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siribaes · 4 months

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ANGEL OF MINE (Sequel to Who’s Better Than Me?)

Rio x blackfem!reader (OC - Angel)

“After a plateau in their relationship, Rio sets out to make things right—”

PARING: Exes to Lovers / Past High School School Sweethearts

SUGGESTED TUNES 💿: We Need Resolution by Aaliyah, Best Thing by Usher, Take Away by Missy Elliott & Ginuwine, Think Of You by Amerie, Fallen by Mya, Ella Me Levanto by Daddy Yankee

CONTENTS: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, ANGST, Some fluff, professing of love, cursing, pinv, r*ugh s*x, cre*m p*e, or*l (fem receiving), Semi Redeemed Rio, Rio being a bedroom bully, with a dash of pettiness again lol, slight use of Spanish, a potential pregnancy, etc. (NOT PROOFREAD/UNEDITED)

AUTHORS NOTE: Genuinely I did not think about writing another part, but some ideas popped up in my head and so here we are lol! this part is kinda long but hope y’all enjoy regardless 💖 GIF CREDIT: by me :)

“How I'm supposed to be to you if you keep squirmin'? Be still,"

Angel couldn’t fully register Rio’s instructions over the pounding of her heart. She shivered, squirming in her spot on the bed. Rio lowered his head, placing small kisses on Angel’s stomach. The softness and warmth of his lips spurred her on even more, Angel began to pull away from Rio's touch.

“Don’t move,” Rio ordered, his large hands held her in place, one of them pressed down on Angel's stomach, "You gonna be good and listen, hm?"

“Yes! I’ll be g-good,” Angel whimpered.

Rio smiled down at her, keeping one hand on her stomach, while the other reached for his hardened shaft. He aligned himself with her dripping core, plunging the tip into her wetness, eliciting a soft moan from Angel. He repeated the movement a few times over slowly easing more of him into her. Angel’s whines grew more desperate with each shallow stroke.

With one last stroke, Rio bottomed out, fully, planting his hands firmly at Angel’s waist.

“Fuck, Angel. So fuckin’ tight,”

Angel’s hands snake up Rio’s back, pulling him towards her, as he began rocking into her.

“Angel,”

“Yes, baby?”

“Angel,”

“Hm?”

“Angel!”

With two snaps from her friend, Benny, Angel was pulled out of her reverie and back into reality.

“You good?” Benny asked as he waved his fork in the air.

“She’s fine,” Keke chuckled, “She’s just having a flashback, of Riooo,”

Angel rolled her eyes as she took a sip from her drink. She leaned back into her seat, looking at the passerbyers. It was a beautiful day, the sun shined brightly, casting down warm rays. After being stuck in the office in the all morning, the change in scenery was much needed.

“Have you talked to him?” Benny mused. He twirled pasta around his fork, before eating a large forkful.

“…No,” Angel sighed.

“Seriously?” Keke asked, eyes wide with shock. “I thought y’all hit it off, literally, after the reunion,”

“We did! And the sex was amazing, but—”

“But what?”

“I don’t know, y'all. So much time has passed, and he's changed so much since we were in high school, I feel like he's not the same boy I once knew,”

"I mean duh, Angel," Keke shrugged, "are any of us who we were 20 years ago?"

"She's right, Angel," Benny added, "None of us are the same as we were back then. It's impossible, babe. It sounds like you more scared of what he does not who is,"

Angel leaned back into her chair; arms folded across her chest. Maybe Benny was right. There was never a moment that passed in the day that she didn't want to be wrapped in Rio's arms. To just be with him. Yet, every time Angel wanted to reach out something stopped her. Everything was different about Rio and seeing him at the reunion was a bit jarring. From his clothes to the way he walked, even that damn eagle tattoo itched on his neck. The way he practically had all of their former classmates fawning over him, laughing at all of his jokes. There was a dangerous charm that Rio possessed. Sure, Angel was used to Rio's boy-ish charms after being on the receiving end of it, but this was something entirely different. It was potent, calculated, and completely irresistible. That was developed from experience, an experience that made Angel think twice.

"By all means, I'm not excusing Rio's, nefarious activities," Benny continued, "I just think you should at least talk to the man. The man, you've been in love with most of your life,"

"And from that glow you've been sporting," Keke added, she paused to a sip from her drink, slurping for dramatic affect. Benny and Angel chuckled, "I know that dick was good. So, take a chance! You'll never know what could happen between you too,"

Angel nodded. For the rest of the day, she pondered Benny and Keke's advice. She had to take a chance, she had to try.

----

It wasn't until 10 PM, when Angel pulled to her home. Arms chalked full of groceries, she wanted to stock up on food and other snacks for her much needed staycation. Angel trudged up the stairs, to her humble bungalow, she fumbled with the straps of the shopping bags and her work purse, trying grab her keys. She quickly opened the door, once inside she locked the door behind her and made a beeline for the kitchen.

Angel didn't bother to turn the light on in the kitchen. Her mind was preoccupied with putting the groceries away so she could take a shower and finally relax. So much that she didn't notice a smoldering, Rio leaned against the refrigerator. He watched her as she unloaded the groceries, not wanting to disturb her just yet. He wanted to admire the way her slacks hugged her curves, just a tad bit longer.

With a grocery bag in hand, Angel turned around, immediately meeting Rio's eyes. Her heart dropped to her stomach.

“Fuck!”

Angel quickly crouched down, grabbing the spilled groceries on the floor. Rio crossed the room in quick strides, bending down to help. A quietness fell over them as they loaded the items into the reusable bag.

“…What are you doing here? How did you get here? You know what don't answer that," Angel sputtered. She sat the bag on her breakfast table. She folded her arms over her chest, “No call, no text. I mean, what the hell Rio?”

His expression was indecipherable as Rio peered at her. His eyes continued to trace over her, as if he was trying to commit her features to memory, as if he really needed to for that matter. Rio tipped his head to the side and scratched the light stubble on his chin.

Angel mentally kicked herself, only Rio could look that dangerously good in minimal lighting. She averted her eyes, looking at the calendar tacked on her fridge, before looking back at Rio.

He shrugged. “I could say the same. You didn’t call, you didn’t text. You avoidin’ me?”

Angel scoffed. “First off, I’m not avoiding you. Second, who breaks into someone’s home after not seeing for a couple of weeks—”

“—A month,”

“However, long it was. If you wanted to talk, this isn’t the way to go about it,”

Rio nodded slowly, poking his bottom lip in that ever so subtle way, as he mused over Angel’s words.

“If I called, would you have answered?”

Angel opened her mouth to respond but quickly closed it. Truth was, if Rio did call, she wouldn’t have picked up. Not because Angel didn’t want to, it was complicated. The night that they shared was magical, more amazing than anything Angel could ever dream of, but when the sun rose the next morning and reality set in. They were too different, Angel lived a normal life, she loved her job, her friends, her family, even the “Tinkerbell” car she drove. Her life was routine, with a few moments of spontaneity (hooking up with Rio was one of them). Rio’s life she assumed, was nothing but spontaneity, having to always keep one eye open, always looking over one’s shoulder. Adding Rio into the equation was too much. It was easier when they were younger, it was simpler time. Their love came with no extra baggage, it was pure.

Now, things are much different, Rio was different. He’s a crime boss for pete’s sake, and Angel knew that he didn’t want the same things, as she did. Last time she checked, living the life of a criminal didn’t allow for marriage and kids, not in the way Angel wanted anyway.

“Rio,” Angel began, the dropped her arms, and twiddled with her fingers, “you…we, we are just different,”

A deep sigh escaped Rio. When Angel finally met Rio’s gaze she could see the cracks in his resolve. His jaw was tight, and usual brown eyes carried a hardness in them. Rio ran a hand across her features, rolling his shoulders while doing so.

“You breakin’ my heart, Angelita,” Rio took a few steps forward, now standing only a few away from Angel. He easily towered over her small frame, “what’s so different about me?”

“Y-you’ve changed, I’ve changed,”

“So?”

“So?! This is serious, Rio, are lives are completely different, you don’t want the same things as me,”

“Bullshit. I need real, Angel. Why are you pullin’ away from me?”

“You’re a fucking criminal, Rio!”

A huge wave of embarrassment and guilt washed over her, she quickly buried her face in her hands. She couldn’t bear to look at Rio after saying what she said. How could she react like that? Regardless of her aversion to what Rio does, he deserved more respect than the outburst she just had. This was the man she’s been in love with since she fifteen, he deserved better.

Angel felt Rio gently wrap his hands around hers, and pulled them away from her face. He then tilted Angel’s upwards to meet his gaze. Rio searched her eyes, seeing the guilt in them he softened.

“You scared of me, Angel?”

Angel froze. Her mind traveling back to the night they spent together, and the glimpse gun she saw as she left his place. Her mind drummed up all of the scenarios that could happen, flashes of him in an orange jumpsuit behind bars, and his name across the headstone in the graveyard. A future that she never wanted to see, but in a way already happened. A little into Angel's first semester of college, word got out Rio was going to prison, it broke her. She couldn't bear to see him like that or worse, 6 feet under.

So, to answer his question was she scared of Rio, no. Was she scared of what could happen to Rio, absolutely, Angel loved him too much just to be okay with could happen to him. Or what he could do to others.

"Hey, hey," Rio spoke, pulling her focus back to him, "there you go wonderin' again. Tell me, what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

Angel sighed. “...I don’t like what you do,”

Rio dropped his hand away from Angel's chin. He nodded slowly, processing. A quietness fell over them, as they stared wordlessly at one another. Rio's eyes slowly trailed down towards Angel's chest. She felt the breath hitch in her throat, when he reached towards her. Gently, he lifted the necklace she wore. Rio held the angel pendant between his fingers, the pad of his thumb softly tracing over the figure's wings.

"You kept it," Rio spoke, his eyes combing over the figure with Angel could only interpret as fondness. Her heart fluttered. "You know, I put in mad work tryna get this. Cutting grass, washing cars, all that shit. I wanted you to feel good. I wanted you to know I loved you,"

"Rio..."

"Por siempre y para siempre, forever and always. That's what's engraved on the wings. Angel, you're my forever, you're my always. It's only been you,"

Angel felt tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. This is the most vulnerable she's seen Rio, ever. To hear him speak with such sincerity and conviction, Angel couldn't help her heart swell with love.

"My business is my business, and I can't change what I did and all the choices I've made. But being with you made me realize, mama that shit has an expiration date," Rio brought his hands to Angel's face, and cradled her soft cheeks, "I can't promise that I'll magically become a better man over night, but I want to try, for you will. 'Cause I don't wanna loose you mama, not again,"

Without a second thought Angel leans forward and kisses Rio. Their kiss was sweet, tongues moving in tandem as Angel snaked her arms around Rio, pulling him closer to her. Her fingers caress the top of Rio's head, soft touches rubbing at his scalp. Rio lets out a throaty groan, its vibrations straight to Angel's core. A flush of heat rushes through her entire body. She breaks the kiss.

"I wanna try, Christopher," Angel whispers. She nuzzles Rio's nose. He pulls away slightly, to see her face fully. A smile blooms across his face. He kisses her again.

"Yeah?" Rio's smile grows wider seeing the sincerity in Angel's face.

"Yes, baby," Angel nods, biting her lip.

A flicker of lust danced in Rio eyes. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip, while his hands drifted towards Angel's bottom. Rio's large hands squeezed and palmed her ass. He landed a firm smack on her ass.

"Rio!"

He chuckled. "Go upstairs, and get on the bed, how I like," Rio mumbled against her cheek, before placing a soft kiss there.

Angel didn't waste any time, she raced upstairs to her bedroom, completely forgetting about her groceries in the kitchen. She kicked off her heels, stripping off her slacks and dress shirt. Angel sat on her bed, legs spread out for him, in only her bra and panties. Coincidently, in his favorite color, green.

Minutes seemed to drawl into hours as Angel waited. Her heart rattled against her chest, as Angel's mind raced at the possibilities of what Rio was going to do to her. Another a minute or so passed when Angel heard Rio's footsteps coming up the stairs.

He appeared in doorway with two bottles of water in hand. He smoothly entered the room, eyes glued to Angel, he settled on a spot in front of Angel's vanity. Rio sat one of the water bottles down on the table, while he opened the other, taking a quick sip. His were so heated, so blazed as they roamed Angel's body. It felt like invisible hands were rubbing and caressing her all over.

"You look good, mama. All spread out for me. Shit, lingerie in my favorite color too..."

"All for you, baby," Angel cooed.

Rio's lips tipped into small smile. He took another swig of water. He sat the bottle down, putting the cap back on.

"I'm not gonna lie, you hurt my feelings, when you went ghost on me..."

"Rio, baby, I'm sorry–"

"Sshhh," Rio hushed Angel with a finger to his lips, "All is forgiven, but you got make it up to me. You gonna make it up to me, darlin'?"

Angel nodded.

"Play with that pussy for me."

Angel slowly peeled out of her panties, making a show out of it, she made sure that Rio got a view of her ass. She flung them to the side, returning her previous position. Widening her legs, Angel's fingers found themselves at her core, swiping at the wetness, she began to rub taut circles on her clit.

"Fuck!" Angel whined.

"Damn..." Rio voice trailed, eyes zeroing in Angel's core. He hummed in satisfaction as fingers began to unbutton his flannel. "You, look so fuckin' good. You close?"

"Yesssss, I'm so close! I need you soooo bad," Angel moaned as her fingers continued to rub tight circles on her clit.

"I got you, just keep going. I wanna see my pretty girl cum for me,"

Angel felt the familiar knot in her belly as her orgasm began to build. Her wetness pooled out of her the more her fingers worked her core. She felt her pussy flutter when Rio peeled out his t-shirt, revealing his svelte frame covered in intricate tattoos. Seeing his rich skin practically covered ink, tipped her over the edge.

"Ooooh, shit, I'm cummin',"

"Mhm, let it out for me, mama," Rio egged her on.

Angel shook as her orgasm coursed through her, wetting up her sheets. She laid down on the bed, closing her eyes as she rode out the aftershocks, her skin tingling with pleasure. Quick taps on her thighs, brought her back, she opened her eyes to Rio looming over her.

"On all fours, darlin',"

Angel obliged. She turned and faced her faced her headboard. She adjusted herself, making sure her the arch in her back was damn near perfect. Rio's belt and zipper clinked and clanked as he undressed himself. His hands palmed her ass, the callused pads of his fingers felt good against her skin. Angel mewled loudly, when she felt Rio's soft tongue lick down her slit.

"Christopher!"

"You taste good. Sweet as fuck," Rio groaned. "You ready for me?"

"Yes, baby. Please don't play with it," Angel turned her head to look at him, biting down her lip. She gazed into his stormy eyes, clouded thick with lust. With one hand, Rio's fingers trailed down Angel's spine, pausing for second. Then landed another firm smack on her Angel's ass. "Baby! Be nice,"

"Nah," Rio stated firmly, he deepened Angel's arch. He adjusted himself, inching his dick closer to Angel's entrance, "You still got some makin' up to do,"

With no warning, Rio plunged into Angel, bottoming out completely. Angel's toes curled, at his fullness and the stretch that only he could give her. He circled himself inside her, pulling himself out, then plunging back in. Rio tightened the grip on Angel's hips as began to rock into her. She gushed and clenched around his member, nails clawing at the sheets below them.

"Goddamn," Rio hissed, "I feel you tightin' around me. You close already?"

"Oh my god! Yes, you fuckin' me so good,"

"Yeaaaah, that's right me, only me. Nobody else, right mama?"

"N-nobody else, baby, shit! I love you so much, Christopher,"

Angel felt Rio's hips stutter at her confession. It only served as more motivation for Rio, spurring him on, he pistoned into Angel faster and harder. He reached downwards, grabbing a handful of her coils, yanking her upwards.

"Say it again," He rasped in her ear.

"I-I-I love you, shit,"

"Again,"

"I love you, I love you, I love you, Rio I'm cumming," Angel cried out.

Rio held Angel close, fucking her through her orgasm. Angel shuddered, as she felt her essence drip down her thighs, as Rio continued to thrust into her wildly, kissing and nibbling at her ear lobe. He slowed rhythm of his hips, letting Angel's hair go, placing small kisses down her neck and shoulders.

"You did so good for me," Rio breathed out. He softly patted at Angel's plush thighs, as he slowly pulled out. "Face me,"

Angel shifted around, laying on her back she spread her legs wide. Rio situated himself between Angel's legs. He stroked himself a few times, biting his lip at the small squelching noises he made. In one swift motion, Rio plunged himself back in, fully engulfing himself in Angel's wet pussy.

"Fuckkkkkk," Rio growled. Angel whined in response. At this angle, Rio was hitting her spongy spot way deeper than before, causing waves of pleasure to flood her entire body. "Pussy so fuckin', shit, nena,"

Both her heart and her pussy fluttered, seeing the blissed out look on his gorgeous features. Rio was always so controlled and reserved most of them, so to see him like this, guttural, borderline animalistic, Angel loved it. She began to feel him throb inside of her, he was close.

"Mhmm, I feel you, baby. I want you to cum inside me," Angel cooed as she cradled the back of Rio neck.

"Yeah? You want me cummin', inside you. Careful, now. I might fuck around and give you a baby forreal,"

Angel cupped Rio's face, kissing him deeply. She pulled away, nodding her head in a wordless confirmation. Rio's eyes softened, at the realization. He bucked his hips, in deep, desperate strokes.

"Shit! Angelita, you gonna look so good, belly fully, with our baby, fuck. I love you, Angel," He grunted, as his resolve was wearing down by the second. The midst of his brutal thrust, Angel felt another orgasm hurdle towards the surface. Her walls spasmed around Rio's dick, screaming out as she came. "Just like that, fuck, eres mio, todo mio, baby, shit,"

A few strokes were all it took to send Rio over the edge. He buried himself in Angel's neck as his blasted his cum inside of her. Rio groans were muffled against Angel's skin. He held her closed as he shook from the pleasure, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum inside of her. Angel wrapped her legs around him, she didn't want to miss a single drop.

A calmness fell over them, as the breathed in tandem, hearts following the same rhythm. Rio lifted his head up, resting his chin on Angel's chest. Warms hands rubbed soft circles against her skin. He gazed at her, nothing but love and stardust in them.

"You're gonna be a good mom," He mumbled.

Angel smiled softly, she rubbed at his shoulders. "And you're gonna be a good dad. I love you, Christopher,"

"I love you too, mama. Por siempre y para siempre."

#siribaesfics #rio x reader #rio x blackfem!reader #rio x blackcurvy!reader #rio x black!reader #black fanfiction #poc fanfiction #rio smut #rio good girls fanfiction

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itsonlydana · 1 month

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Find a cure for my heart | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x human fem!reader 👑

On the eve of the battle, you and Thranduil spent a night that spurred a flurry of letters while Dale grew as a city and you both grew too, first apart, then closer again. However, you couldn't bring yourself to burden him with the truth that your health was deteriorating with each passing day.

warnings/tags: sickness, angst, mentions of death (reader is actively dying but only realizes after Thranduil helps) hurt/comfort, happy end

words: 5,6k

an: finally finished this fic after working on it since January. If you are interested in being tagged when I post new fics– comment that under this post or send it to me in my inbox!

+ masterlist + rules

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

Contrary to general belief, the elves did not return to their forests immediately after the battle.

In the stories told, there would be remarks, on how the Elvenking offered his help to the yet-to-be-crowned King Bard once more, bringing aid with however warriors he had left for disposal to search the endless chaos and ruins of Dale for survivors until many sunsets later.

They would speak about the sorrow of losing friends and family and neighbors to a war that had been won at costs no one could comprehend yet, and they would mention how the great Elvenking guided them through the darkest of nights for he had experienced this all before; the grief, the helplessness and the colossal question of What now, who's to say we haven't lost ourselves as well as those we have to bury?

Many had their own experience with the Elvenking, whether it was a hand pulling them off the ground, a loaf of bread delivered to them after days of fighting, or a warm blanket to huddle under to finally lay their body to rest under the watchful eye of Elves that had sworn to protect them.

You had your own story. A different one.

But it wasn't one with the Elvenking, no; the night before the battle, where the air was filled with the sound of blades being sharpened and children crying for their parents, you had met Thranduil, King of the Woodland Elves but most importantly: a set of strong arms that caught you as you stumbled out of Bard's tent.

You needed to run away from the discussions over how to draw the dwarfs out of the mountain.

You'd been a friend to Bard for many long years but standing in that luscious tent, being offered wine as the Wizard, Bard, and the Hobbit pondered over what was about to happen while you weren't sure your mind caught up on what had happened already, there was no room for friendship inside your panic-riddled chest.

Just as you flung open the tent flaps and tried to dash away to get some air, your foot caught on a root, and had it not been for Thranduil's fast reflexes, you surely would've planted your face into the dirt and mud.

Up until now, you had no idea what had transcended between the two of you at the moment where his arms held you up, his softening face looking down at your widened eyes filled with tears and your tongue too tied up and heavy to say anything other than: "Air– please"

Whatever it had been, likely an unspoken wish – by Thranduil or you, or maybe you both; it didn't matter – for someone who would not pass judgment over the urge to disappear from your skin and role and crown for one night, a fallen star flung across the darkened skies at the right time.

It felt as though Thranduil had pulled a sheet over your heads; your world narrowed down to this other soul and how beautiful and divine his body felt on yours as you found a way to survive the night before life as you knew it turned once more and the solid ground beneath your feet shifted and broke.

A few nights, while unforgettable and brooding with feelings neither of you admitted to, did not change that you had to move on somehow.

Although the Elves did not depart for Mirkwood immediately and Thranduil and you were given time in the aftermath to find the other in the cover of the night and under the pretense this was nothing more than mere distraction, a wishing star could only do so much shining before dimming out.

The day you awoke to a sunrise bathing the debris of Dale in a pinkish and warm light, pillars being rebuilt dipped into molten gold, and the cracks glued together, Thranduil's strong arms were wrapped around your middle as if he wanted to hinder you from sneaking away, you knew it was him who would leave you before the day was over.

And so he did.

Sunrise came and went and soon enough all the tents were packed up on horseback and wagons, leaving flattened grass as the only reminder they had been there at all if and there were goodbyes, political between Bard and the Elvenking who parted from the weary man and his children with the promise of support, and between you and Thranduil in the form of a slow nod.

Thranduil sat high on a dark stallion, dressed in silver and long robes that hid fingerprints that spoke of an attempt to cling to transience. His chin lowered, though his eyes were fixed on you.

You knew that nod carried the conversation you had whispered into the morning mist.

And it was all that wasn't said that motivated you to step away first and turn your back on the caravan that took away a King and a Lover.

There was much to do, the looming task of building up Dale needed everyone's full attention, and that included you.

Especially you.

There were houses to plan, accommodations to be made so that no one needed to sleep under the stars.

No one could ever pry the reason why you were keen on getting a roof under everyone out of your hands; a lonely part of you wanted the stars to remember you and Thranduil lying in the grass. And no one else.

The first letter arrived a few weeks after you hadn't had the heart to watch him go and threw yourself into one task after the other, dismissing even the smallest hint of sickness, like the heaviness inside your chest every time you lifted something heavy, or tiredness crashing down onto you in moments to catch your breath, to continue working, that you wouldn't find a moment to admit how much you missed him.

That utterly ridiculous mindset stopped as soon as the messenger Elf rode into the city and hand-delivered you the first of many envelopes with the nearly indecipherable handwriting of Thranduil.

Or the Elvenking.

Because the first letter, despite being addressed to you as well as Bard, who wouldn't have been able to read it in the first place, was a list of things the King would send and a question of what else was needed that he could provide.

"It's fine," you said to Bard through a smile that didn't reach your eyes as you read aloud the letter twice, from the greeting to the last paragraph that was signed 'the Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion, Lord of Mirkwood and friend of Dale'.

In the flickering light of the candle dripping wax onto the table between you, the dark circles under Bard's eyes were all the more prominent than when he was running around the city and there was a bottomless pit in your stomach that wouldn't want to add to the many things he was already worrying about.

"It's totally fine," you said to Bard when he asked if you had skipped over a private note from Thranduil or if there truly wasn't one (there wasn't, you had turned the letter over and over in your hands until the edges became soft and wrinkled) and you both knew that to be a lie.

You answered the letter in the same professional manner because even though you wanted to, you couldn't send a letter to a King helping however he could and expecting nothing in return with a smeared "I wish for your heart and our nights and for your voice to tell me we are alright" written under tears in another sleepless night.

The next few letters follow the same pattern, Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion would inquire if there was anything Dale needed and answer Bard's question on leadership and share his knowledge of what was fundamental for a new King, and you would write for Bard on the other side.

The weeks passed and so did the hope of rekindling that fire you had thought to burn in the both of you.

That Thranduil didn't see the need to reach out was a punch to the gut that left little room for anything else but disappointment of putting your effort into pulling on a rope that wasn't attached to something on the other end.

Why waste the dwindling energy of your exhausted body on someone who would live longer than the memory of you?

Every time a new letter arrived by messenger you would find Bard until one late evening you opened the letter by yourself and saw your name written in that beautiful sharp handwriting, not Bard's added in front or behind; only your given name and not your title.

Your hands shook as you stood in the frame of what was to be your house and the ink glued together the cracks of your heart.

'Forgive me for not writing to you sooner and for how sentimental I must sound. It has been weeks since I last saw you and every time I wander through my familiar halls, I find there is no soul around that could understand me how you did, whom I could tell what plagues my mind. The time we spent together has not left my thoughts. Neither has the promise to not grow apart too much and I apologize for not contributing to that. Now, if you would still have me, I would like nothing more than to hear how you are faring. As for me…'

Nothing had the power to stop you from running off that giddy feeling that spread through your chest as Thranduil, finally Thranduil, wrote about the happenings in Mirkwood; not even the cough that sat deep where suppressed laughter spilled into the grass you fell into– the letter clutched into your hands.

Thranduil and you fell into a routine then, one that was no obstruction for the many tasks at hand but made room for each other to hold on to the promise.

You would send out two letters, one on behalf of Bard whom you taught his signature as well as a few more words every fortnight you sat down together, and one addressed to Thranduil, filled with all the thoughts that ran through your mind that you wanted to tell him.

It was by no means as precious as the talks you had now many weeks ago, not when there were days you had to wait for a response instead of seconds.

You appreciated them all the same, every bit of himself that Thranduil wrote into his messages was countered with a confession of your own.

When he said he wished to know where his son had disappeared to or rather if he followed the direction Thranduil had given to him, you admitted to the nightmares that still plagued your mind, the dreams of fire and a monster that still rested in the lake.

You offered piece after piece, chipped bits of your heart into every letter that you sent away, and after a few weeks had passed, and Dale was taking shape with its houses raking their roofs to the sky and its people planting seeds and flowers, rooting themselves into what now was theirs, there was not much left of your heart that was completely yours and not Thranduil's and the letters of his proved that the same could be said about him.

What you did not mention, not with one drop of ink, was that the nightmares were no longer confined to the few hours of sleep you fell into.

There was a dragon, not just in the cold lake where your old home lay in ashes and was drowned in the ruthless darkness, but by the heavy weight on your chest, it felt like there was one inside you as well.

You were coughing as if there was smoke blocking your lungs, blackening out what little air you heaved for when a coughing fit took over your whole body.

It started small, a cough then, a sleepless night there; both accumulated to an uncountable amount and it got only worse as the season changed and the autumn winds lost their last warm touches and the trees bared their wooden arms.

You waved it off as a common cold, nothing that would hinder you from your tasks to becoming a liability the city didn't need in its time of growth.

Then, the coughing got worse, rougher, sometimes taking your voice for a moment until you found some water although that only helped for a small moment, like trying to extinct a burning building with just the water your bare hands could carry.

The worst part was the blood that stained the cloths, the sweats that not only held you awake at night but weakened you at day as well.

"I'm better!" you promised Bard on a night when he had to sit next to your bed, wringing out the cold cloths that lay on your fevered forehead.

His voice was a low whisper when he dabbed away the sweat, pushing your wet hair back with hands that were far too gentle for what you deserved for rotting in bed and not pulling your weight, "You're not, an' that's clear for everyone but you. Did you tell him?"

"Yes," you lied through your teeth, eyelids dropping close from exhaustion but you knew sleep wouldn't come, "he said it would pass, nothing to worry 'bout."

Three days later you were on your legs again, if not a bit shaky and needing more breaks than ever.

You sat in Bard's kitchen, a warm bowl of soup in front of you that tasted like ash and firewood, and ignored the silent pleading in his eyes to tell him what was going on and why you could barely lift the spoon of a soup that you clearly did not enjoy.

Winter wore your body down like rough sandpaper on soft oak, the cold winds and dark hours an enemy far worse than what you had to encounter on the battlefield. This had no logical explanation, nor was there an enemy you could see.

Your own body betrayed you and you had no idea what you had done to deserve it.

You knew that somewhere was a solution to it all, that was the string of hope leading you through the snow outside and the fire in your blood and bones, singing down what little fight was left on the days when the sun pushed away gray clouds and you felt normal and healthy.

The sole reason why you lied in letters filled with otherwise honesty as pure as heaven's snowflakes was that you did not want to be a bother.

Thranduil wrote how much of his time the dwarfs and their trading demands swallowed; he did not need another burden and you would be damned if he came because you had a small cold you couldn't get rid of.

You had promised Thranduil to visit him in spring when the soil was rich enough for the seed to take and the livestock could roam the meadows. If you weren't better by then you would ask him.

Until then work demanded all of you. Even if that was through a white knuckle grip on the last bits of health in aching bones.

⸺

Spring brought forth daffodils pushing through the cobblestone streets. Tilda, the youngest Bardling and a wonderful distraction on the days when getting out of bed was the hardest bounced excitedly beside you and pointed at the flowers.

"Like stubborn trumpets proclaiming winter is finally over!" she said as you followed her outside. "Spring is finally here!"

You disregarded the pain echoing through your body, the weight of guilt forcing you to spend the day with the girl.

She had been knocking on your door every morning, angelic eyes asking if you wanted to come and play with the lambs that she had taken too and this morning, you couldn't disappoint her.

"Aren't they just so pretty?" Tilda crouched down, gently cupping one of the blossoms in her small hands.

Lowering your gaze from the burning brightness of the sun you got a short glimpse at the yellow dots decorating your doorstep.

Then, suddenly, black spots appeared on the edge of your vision, taking you by surprise though they have been your companion for the better part of the last few days.

"Tilda–"

You tried to hold on to your doorframe, bruised hands frantically searching for a grip on the warm wood but they slipped and caught only the edge.

The last thought that crossed your mind was that you should bring Thranduil some of those flowers before you blinked and crumbled to the ground.

⸺

You woke up to the confusing taste of grass on your heavy tongue and the dizzying realization that you were not spread out on the street but tugged inside your bed.

Above you, moonlight fell through the opened window in the slanted roof above your head and you immediately closed your eyes again.

This had to be a dream.

Though your dreams had not been like this in a long time.

Peaceful. Comfortably warm. Silent except for the croaking of toads, the buzzing of insects outside, and the laughter and clattering of your neighbors probably enjoying the night more than you.

A groan passed your lips as you tried to sit up; a seemingly impossible task with the heaviness of your bones as well as the mountain of blankets that covered you.

"What do you think you are doing?" a voice you knew all too well sneered.

For a second you thought it to be a hallucination, a projection or your dazed mind still lulled in the fog of unconsciousness.

The bones in your neck cracked as your head snapped to the other side. There was no way you did not imagine the tall figure that should be across the woods in his palace; not in your bedroom.

"What are you doing here?"

"Merely strolling through the neighborhood," Thranduil's voice dripped with sarcasm, yet a subtle tension marked his stance beside the bed. "Now, enlighten me. Did you conveniently forget to mention this sickness in your letters?"

Ah, straight to the point.

"It's trivial," you waved it off, attempting to assert yourself by sitting up.

Naturally, consciousness promptly slipped away once more.

This time you were not that surprised by the sharp taste of grass on your lips when you came to your senses once more, pushed back into the pillows that had never felt this stuffed. You were still unable to move your leg more than from one side to the other under the blankets and Thranduil was still there, glaring at you through dark furrowed brows and hardened eyes.

You wanted to say something to break the heavy silence but all that passed your lips was a giggle that was more desperate and closer to insane than amusement.

One brow lifted. "Oh, how glad I am you are entertained by this," said Thranduil. He was as rigid in a frightening calm way but all of that was overshadowed by the cloud of confusion that muddled your thoughts.

"Noo," you drew out the word and continued giggling. This had to be insanity. "You jus' look very out of place here – wait. Turn around? I need to make sure you're really here."

He didn't fit into the cramped space of your house, his fine clothing stood out against the poor backdrop of crooked furniture, used towels hanging over stools, and the small layer of dust that covered the areas you hadn't been able to clean in a while; which was most of the bedroom and you didn't dare think about the state of the kitchen.

Where he deserved a throne out of gold you could only offer the chair next to your bed, the one that was crooked and leaned heavily to one side.

That being said, nothing took away the sheer amount of power he radiated.

It easily filled every nook and cranny or tight corner of your humble house, his voice as well as the image of Thranduil, King of the Elves, towering over your bed in long robes and bathed in the light of the night sky, glittering silver like the moon knew the importance of the Elf in front of you.

Thranduil remained stoically still. "I will definitely not do that," he said. "I am here. Where I should have been a while ago."

The accusation would have hit harder if you weren't drugged up on whatever medicine he had apparently fed you while you were out cold.

You shrugged your shoulders as well as you could with your arms bundled under the blankets. "I saw no reason, it was just a cold. Nothing I couldn't manage."

Well, you hadn't managed to handle it, that was the worst realization of the whole lie.

"Clearly," Thranduil said sarcastically and ground his teeth against each other. His arms were behind his stiff back and the way he tilted his head down to you made you feel like a child being admonished for bad behavior. "Do you know how much despair I felt when Bard's letter arrived this morning?" His voice was even but there was a resonance in it – a deep rumble akin to the ominous approach of distant thunderstorms over the sea. "Nearly indecipherable scrambles where he begged me to come; telling me that you have been asleep for two whole days?"

A crack in the form of a small tremor broke through the mask of the all-mighty Elvenking.

"This morning?" you asked, caught up by the first part and ignorant of everything that followed after, and you huffed while running the calculations through your head. "Thranduil, this can not be, the journey is not manageable in one day."

"Is this truly the point you consider most important?" He closed his eyes as a pained expression passed over his face. "You deem it impossible, yet I assure you, nothing could have hindered my arrival here; the boundaries of possibility, for once, were not a barrier but an aid. It reveals your scant regard for your circumstance if your worry fixates on my journey through the land. Not on the sickness that nearly stole you from this world. Two days –" Thranduil took a deep breath, "two whole days where those around you had no idea if you would ever awake again."

"But –"

"No, you can speak when I am finished," he commanded sharply. "You were reckless. Ignorant of your health as if your life was not precious." Thranduil spat the words out cold yet they burned. He was blind to the way you flinched and lowered your burning eyes to the blankets.

You shrunk deeper into the pillows, a hollow ache inside your chest that had felt empty from the pain ever since you awoke the first time.

"But –" you repeated helplessly. This time, he allowed you to continue and you did so in a whisper: "I didn't want to be an inconvenience."

"An inconvenience?" he sneered back at you, the flickering lights of a few burned-down candles casting shadows over the creases of anger edged into alabaster skin.

He took a step toward the bed and you saw a twitch in his lips that had you blanching.

The fury brooding inside him was not new, you had seen it on the battlefield before. In ice-cold cuts of his sword as he flawlessly executed the most brutal movements while his face resembled a mask of the most dangerous kind of rage – stillness.

Now, there remained little of that stillness.

"You were a greater inconvenience by nearly throwing away your precious mortal life, all because of your unfathomable stubbornness!"

"There was lots to do!" you snapped back. Shortly but surely, you were fed up with his anger and the insults he was throwing at you. "This town was suffering far more than me and don't you dare tell me I'm wrong," you had to bury your teeth into your lower lip to stop it from shaking. "Dale needed me!"

The pale skin was flushed red around his heaving chest and delicate ears. "And I do not?" Thranduil road and his voice boomed through your little bedroom loud enough for the cicadas outside to fall silent.

Immediately, your eyes watered. You felt trapped under his gaze, engulfed in pure heat hotter than any dragon fire.

You searched for a response inside you but found none.

All there was was chaos – the loud beating of your heart against your chest like iron being beaten and shaped though all that was formed was pain sharp like a sword edge; cutting through the layers of protection you had wrapped around your heart.

Thranduil slightly lifted his nose, staring down at you through thick eyebrows and a clenched jawline. "You were dying," he said and his nostrils quivered. "I can not fathom how you through that would not have been a greater inconvenience.

His expressions made up in sound for the lowered voice he'd used to speak about what you previously refused to acknowledge.

Never before had you seen him this out of control of his emotions, not even on the nights he had bedded you where he still had a hold on himself.

The way he stood before you, dressed in fine robes not fit for riding, the hem of them stained by dirt, his boots muddy, and his face full of anguish, it was as if he could have been kneeling at your feet.

You ignored the tears slipping silently down your cheeks. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"It was indeed, and far beyond that."

The tears made it impossible for you to continue looking at him and your head dropped down as a sob broke through you. "I didn't know," you panicked, "It didn't happen fast so… so I thought it'd pass but – and then it got worse and worse and I was so afraid to speak to anyone about it." The words tumbled into your lap, where, under the blankets, your hands were balled to fists now that the strength to do so had returned to your body, "I – I couldn't," the night air stung as your breaths turned into gasps, "They – Bard was exhausted and –"

Thranduil's face softened ever so slightly, pushing away the furious frown. "You are too pure for this world," he said quietly and – dealing a fatal blow to your ever-fragile heart – slowly went down on one knee next to the bed until you were eye to eye and his cold long fingers could gently caress your wet cheek.

He stopped, most of his fingers covered in the glistening tears he'd freed you from and his thumb rested on the plushness of your lower lip. "The world would have lost its sunshine had you perished," his robes rustled as he drew closer, silver hair falling onto the blankets like stars flying across the skies, "You must promise me to be more careful or darkness shall be my companion from that day on."

How could you do anything else but break into tears once more?

They flooded your face too fast for Thranduil to catch them with his hand and he did what seemed more reasonable yet utterly out of character: he rose to push away some of the blankets and sat down on the mattress.

While his face showed some revelation of his thoughts at the meek bed of hay that surprised him, he said nothing except for a lowered: "Hush now, shh." while his arms found your shaking body and pulled you into his side.

He cradled you until there were no more tears to cry, until your cheeks hurt and your lashes clung together awfully damp, and then some more, his hands on your back, cooling down the firing heat that spread through you and the other in your hair. With tenderness, he massaged his fingertips into the areas where your head throbbed uncomfortably.

You cried for all the nights where you had suffered, drawing closer to a death you hadn't seen coming.

You cried out of relief that this was finally over, that you could breathe and inhale only the rich scents of Thranduil instead of smoke.

You sobbed uncontrollably long into the night, not caring one bit that by the time the wailing grew quiet and exhaustion rendered you weak enough to fall into his chest even more, Thranduils robes needed to be padded dry.

"Thranduil?" you asked and burrowed your nose into a spot of fabric that wasn't salty. "Can you tell me what was happening to me?"

He didn't start directly. Thranduil waited, his heart stuttering for a second that made you marvel that the muscle was affected by you at all despite the many proofs he had laid to your feet.

Were it not for the pounding headache you fostered and tried to push away by shutting away all the lights and leaving your eyes closed, you would have looked at his face to check for those minuscule expressions he only showed to you.

"At first I could not figure it out," Thranduil admitted at last and his previously stilled hand continuing the circular movements against your scalp, gathering hair between his fingers, "and that frightened me more than anything else. There was not a scratch or a wound, nothing that explained why you were hardly–" he flinched and his other hand held your waist tighter, "hardly breathing. Bard was the one who explained how much you fought against this illness all winter, ever since autumn to be precise. He spoke of the meals you denied, the coughing and shaking, the blood-soaked cloths, and how.. how you rarely slept and if you did, he told me he heard your whimpers and sobs whenever he passed your door."

"He noticed it all?"

"He loves you," Thranduil said, "He loves you just as much as his offspring."

You shut your eyes even closer, turning your head more into his chest as another layer of protection against the feeling of pain that flinched over your face like a stone skipping on water, leaving ripples of agony at the memory of the many times Bard had pleaded you to talk to him. "I never wanted him to hurt at my expense."

"He is aware you thought it to be better this way," Thranduil lovingly stroked your hair – and it was love, soft and beautiful like the elf who abandoned his kingdom to race to save you – "To go against his word to you declares him a strong man and leader, Dale will flourish under his guide and your gentle hand will provide your people all they will ever need."

"So what was it?" you asked the question eating away at you, "This sickness?"

Thranduil's fingers twirled a lock of hair as he hummed lowly, "The beast in the lake is at fault," he said, "and its body infesting the in any case dirty water that you used to still your thirst."

You lifted your head at that, staring up at Thranduil whose gaze was already on you. "The dragon?" you repeated perplexed, "I got sick because of that damned dragon?"

Thranduil nodded, "I sent out the order to have its carcass removed this instant, so no one else has to suffer this fate."

You drew your eyebrows together, the hard crease between them immediately found by Thranduil for him to smooth the frown away with his thumb and a soft click of his tongue.

"So I was the only one?" The conclusion was confirmed by another nod that sent you down another spiral of confusing thoughts and loose threats of a riddle that made no sense to you.

"A mystery," Thranduil said as if he could read your thoughts, "There is no explanation as to why you solely were affected and quite intense at that. I was glad to have brought Asëa aranion with me – although you required more than a handful until your heart finally calmed."

In a moment of contemplating silence, you barely managed to stifle a yawn.

Now that your body seemed to be fine again, all your muscles yearned for the sleep that had evaded you for the longest time.

Thranduil's pleasantly warm body around you lulled you into a state of calmness, his body heat and the memories of his touch you replaced with the feeling of his strong chest in your back, and his hands threading hair through his fingers.

He was curled up in your bed, in your home, not some tent under the stars though you could see them if you looked up and through the window.

As you did so, your eyes didn't travel further than Thranduil and the watchful look on his face.

"You're as beautiful as the day you left," you remarked in a whisper like a slip of your tongue but you meant every word.

While your body ached and wore new scars his hands and mouth hadn't explored yet, he could've been away for a day or less.

You lifted a hand to stroke over his left cheek, over the faint scarred muscles that you knew by whispers hid what he deemed hideous.

Thranduil caught your hand before it reached his cheekbones and his lips pressed a light kiss against the calluses, the signs of hours of work.

"Rest, meleth nîn, you need it."

There was no denying that the elvish words had meant something important, that was clear by the way his tongue had wrapped around the words and breathed them out like a kiss but his lowered lashes and downturned lips hindered you from asking what he had said.

This was not the time to question what was probably just for him.

Later, when you were not falling into the depths of sleep cuddled against Thranduil's chest, when you would step outside your house with his looming presence in your back ready to help you with every foot you set on the grounds, there would be stories awaiting you.

Stories of the Elvenking storming into the city on horseback and all alone, the wind seemingly carrying him faster than possible and the fury and worry on his face lowered all citizens to the grounds as he yelled for their King.

They would speak about the way he nearly broke down Bard's door and how he carried your unconscious body in his arms to your house, demanding for the crowd to make themselves rare before he had them all seized and locked into his halls for obstructing his path; and even though he had no authority, Bard was close on his heels and no one dared to object.

You would hear about the day he sat by your side, caring for you and barking out orders for more water, not the one from the lake but from the springs, and how Bard and his children were the only ones allowed to visit – explaining the yellow flowers that took up every single glass your house had to offer.

Thranduil would tell you the meaning of the words he had said that first night he had spent in your bed, fully awake and watching your sleeping form in his lap until the birds woke you up in the morning; and he would say these words on all the nights that followed.

With him in Dale, or you in Mirkwood – never apart from then on.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #thranduil #thranduil oropherion #king thranduil #king of mirkwood #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit fanfiction

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nhlclover · 1 month

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𝐒𝐎 𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 | 𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐂𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘

word count: 1.35k

summary: on your way to the spend a weekend at the lake house with his teammates, you think about your future with rutger

warnings: british reader!, mentions of some other umich players (nick, duke brothers), brief sad thoughts

notes: based on 'so american' by olivia rodrigo. who am i if not writing fics based on songs.

The morning sun was beginning to rise, casting a golden hue on Rutger’s jeep that rumbled down the highway, its tires humming against the asphalt. Rutger sat in the driver's seat, his left hand holding a loose grip on the wheel, while you sat comfortably in the passenger seat, your feet were propped up on the dashboard. Rutger insisted you hit the road early to get to Jacob’s lake house around mid-morning. You felt that was a little too early, but he was excited to spend some spare time at the end of the semester with his friends and girlfriend, relaxing on the water. To make up for the early start time, Rutger bought you an iced coffee and promised that you could sleep in the car on the way over.

However, you couldn’t find yourself able to fall back asleep, instead taking over aux, the early morning air that flowed through the cracked windows helping to rejuvenate you. You tapped your fingers against the door handle, matching the beat of the song you’d selected. Dirt On My Boots by Jon Pardi filled the space, a contented smile gracing your lips.

“You’ve turned so American.” Rutger says, pulling your brain out of its brief daze.

“What?” You ask, your brows furrowing.

“I mean… look at you,” Rutger says with a chuckle. “You’re sitting there with your feet on the dash, you’re listening to country music, and you’re repping USA merch.”

Rutger motions to one of his hoodies that you’d thrown on as you were leaving. It was one given to him by the world juniors team he’d just played on, the letters U-S-A largely displayed on the chest.

You turned to him, adjusting your position in the seat. "Oh, please, don't say that. I'm still very much British, thank you very much." You retort, rejecting the idea that you’d become American in any way.

When you applied for an exchange to the University of Michigan, nothing could’ve prepared you for what would’ve come. On your first day of classes in the new country, you met Rutger. When a pretty girl sat next to him in one of his classes, he knew he had to talk to her. It didn’t take long for the two of you to develop feelings, Rutger soon being the ‘dreamy American’ that your friends had jokingly told you you’d fall for. And fall for him you did.

It was unfair of Rutger to make you feel this much when you both knew your future was uncertain.

“Hey, there is nothing wrong with being American.” Rutger points out.

“Yeah says the American.” You tease, rolling your eyes. “Thank god I’m going home soon. I need to reconnect with my roots if you think I’ve become American.”

Despite that being a joke, you couldn't shake the underlying sadness that gnawed at you. In just one week, you were leaving Michigan and returning to the UK. The thought of leaving Rutger and the life you’d established in Michigan weighed heavily on your heart. You knew that the bond you’d established with Rutger would withstand the miles and borders, however the prospect of being separated from him felt like tearing away a piece of you.

Rutger, sensing the shift in your demeanour as well as knowing that the inevitable move was weighing on you, reached over, taking your hand in his. His cold fingers lacing between yours quickly drew you back to reality.

“Hey,” He said softly. “Try not to think about it for now. Enjoy this weekend. We’ve got ages to figure it all out.”

You squeezed Rutger’s hand drawing comfort from his touch. With a gentle smile, you met his gaze, gratitude shining in your eyes. “Thank you, Rut.” You said softly.

Rutger returned your smile, turning his attention back to the road while keeping your hand in his. You continued the drive, doing your best to expel the thoughts of leaving from your mind.

Three hours later, Rutger pulled down a laneway that ultimately led to a large house on the water. Rutger’s teammates were already outside, eagerly awaiting your arrival.

“Hey guys!” Rutger called out as they stepped out of the car. Rutger’s teammates come over, greeting the two of them.

“This place is beautiful.” You comment, admiring the glimpse of the water you could see past the house.

“God, I will never get over the accent.” Nick said. Rutger shoved his shoulder while you playfully rolled your eyes.

You considered yourself lucky that you’d become friends with Rutger’s teammates. From the moment Rutger introduced you to them, they’d welcomed you with open arms. And as you spent more time with them, they weren’t just Rutger’s teammates, they were your friends as well.

“Alright, now go get changed, we’re hitting the water.” Luca said, ushering the two of you inside.

You headed up to your room, changed into the swimsuits you’d brought, and then headed downstairs to meet the rest of the group. The rest of the afternoon, you guys remained on the water. You all took turns on the tube, as well as some of the boys deciding to test their water skiing skills. When the sun began to descend towards the horizon, a golden hue being cast on the water, you headed back to the house to start dinner, which was a full team activity in which everyone was put to work doing something. You and Rutger were put in charge of the barbecue on the back patio, teaming up with Dylan and Tyler to grill the burgers and corn.

After dinner was demolished, you headed down to the fire pit, relaxing in the Adirondack chairs, talking about whatever came to mind. The flames cast flickering glows on everyone's faces as you discussed sports, your exams, and random childhood anecdotes whether relevant or not. After a while of drinking and chatting, both you and Rutger hit your limits and decide to call it a night.

The second that Rutger’s head hits the pillow, he’s out like a light, the day’s activities catching up with him. After a full day of tubing and waterskiing, combined with the drinks they’d consumed throughout the day, everyone was wiped. You, however, lay awake, the moonlight reflecting off the water and into the open window.

You traced your fingers through Rutger's hair, watching his bare chest rise and fall with steady breaths. With the tranquillity of the room enveloping you, you find yourself lost in a maze of thoughts, your mind swirling with visions of Rutger and the future they could share.

England was home. England was where you grew up, where your family and friends still resided. The thought of leaving them to be in North America made your heart tense. However, lying in the sheets and staring up at the ceiling, you couldn’t help but imagine moving to North America to be with Rutger. As you look over at him, still peacefully asleep, you imagine the prospect of uprooting your life for the American boy you fell in love with, of bridging the distance to be with Rutger.

Your thoughts continue to wander, picturing what could come of life in America with Rutger. Your mind entertains the notion of marriage, a distant yet possible milestone. That might be a little presumptuous of you, with your relationship still being in its infancy, but you practically couldn’t help it. The way he’d made you feel in the past 8 months was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. Every moment with him felt like a moment torn from a romance book. Every moment with him was filled with laughter and stolen glances, creating an undeniable intimacy and connection.

You had to eventually force those thoughts out of your mind or else they would’ve kept you up all night. You rolled over, curling into Rutger’s side, and placing a delicate hand on his abs. Rutger stirred momentarily, instinctively wrapping his arm around you, drawing you closer. For now, you were content to simply be in this moment with him, cherishing the time you had left before you had to return home.

#rutger mcgroarty #rutger mcgroarty imagine #rutger mcgroarty x reader #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #umich hockey #umich #university of michigan

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centrally-unplanned · 4 months

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Have seen 3-4 "death of culture at the modern university" posts on my dash, so lets address the forces being missed in those posts. People today are not less cultured, they are not less creative - hell that is actually hilarious, due to radically lowered barriers of entry a good deal more people are creative in some way today. The average 21 year old is as awash in hot takes or avant garde art or crazy political movements as they ever were, give-or-take the zeitgeist fluctuations of any given year.

What has changed is that the university is no longer as necessary a lodestone for that culture. The primary cause is of course the internet of it all; in the same way people just have less friends now because they can be entertained otherwise, if I want freeform poetry readings I can go on Youtube, I can *post* on Youtube. I don't need to be a part of my uni's zine, I can just write for...any zine!! Anywhere!! Colleges used to solve the coordination problem of bringing disparate people together to participate in distinct hobbies all in one place; the internet does that better. College for some is a little obselete.

Meanwhile, universities themselves have changed, and a lot of it is that stifling, bureaucratic stuff you see in those posts. But supply meets demand; those schools changed for a reason, and one of the big ones is that how undegraduates spend their time has pretty radically changed too. The "have fun majoring in ~whatever at uni" idea that peaked in the 1980's is pretty dead; if you are at a top school you are planning out your internships for freshman summer, because you need multiple as part of your four year plan to max your odds of getting into med school or a slot on the marketing consulting team at Deloitte. The competition for entry-level jobs has escalated dramatically since the late 90's; companies both lost faith in the "liberal arts" stamp as a universal smartness indicator, the complexity of jobs legitimately went up and demand more skills at entry level, and enough savvy students were building comprehensive resumes that they didn't need to settle any more, they had their pick. And these all feed on each other through competition; once enough students are doing it, everyone has to do it.

So college is just "about" career prep more and more now for people. Which just isn't fun and not the place you stick your creativity in; it doesn't vibe that way. These transformations are structural, and even sans the bureaucracy things like Greek Life would be fading. How is that boosting your organic chemistry grade again? Who has the time for that shit.

But people are still doing all the creative edgy art weird stuff. Just not within the confines of the college quite as much. And of course many still do; its all margins in the end.

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dontwantnoneunlessyougotmunson · 1 year

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I have a request for ya! Just thought of this (sorry for the long entry 🫣)

what if Reader has been harboring a MAJOR crush on Eddie forever, and maybe they're friends, maybe not, maybe just acquaintances, I'll leave that up to you, but the Reader is this stereotypical shy, quiet, nerd girl who loves fantasy novels and (though no one would guess it just by looking at her) heavy metal and D&D and she's always been way too scared to tell Eddie how she feels (and she also knows he has a crush on Chrissy Cunningham and how could she ever compete with the Queen of Hawkins High? The Perfect Girl?). But then one day a group of bullies (maybe Carver and his Goons, maybe somebody else, again, I'll leave that up to you) somehow get a hold of her diary and read out the entry where she talks about how much she's in love with Eddie, out loud in the cafeteria during Lunch! Eddie's there, Chrissy's there, Reader is there, everyone, all of their friends are there, and of course the Reader is MORTIFIED and takes off running and hides somewhere else before anyone can say anything.

How it ends I will leave up to you 🙌 (but preferably fluffy 👀)

Vulnerability (Eddie X GN Reader)

Ehehe I’ve been writing this all morning and I love this request so much! *The diary entries are in bold italics. Also this was typed on mobile, so sorry for any typos!!

The entire table erupted into cheers as they won the battle and finished the campaign. You smiled, glancing over your book and grinned even wider as they congratulated each other. You were tucked away in the corner, engrossed in the plot of your latest novel. You’d only pretended to read in the past half hour because you had been trying to pay attention to what was going on at the table.

You and Gareth had been friends since childhood and went everywhere together. You often watched the Hellfire campaigns, but had been trying to finish up your book since it was due back soon.

“So, what did you think of my campaign?”

Your heart jolted in your chest and you pretended to find a place to stop in the story before looking up to see Eddie hovering over you. Eyes widening, you tried to laugh normally, but it just came out strangled. He patted your back, concerned, while you begged whatever higher power was listening to just take you away. Tears leaked from your eyes and you glanced to him to see he was waiting expectantly.

“It was really good, Eddie.”

He flushed and rocked on his heels.

“Your storytelling was so creative and I had no idea that side character was going to have such a big role!”

He flourished under your praise and sat beside you, rambling eagerly about his strategy and how he was inspired for the campaign.

~~~

In short, I absolutely have a crush on Eddie Munson.

You groaned and flopped your head down on the table. The library was especially quiet before school and was often the place you divulged your most private thoughts to your diary. The five-minute warning bell rang and you scooped up all your things and dashed off to class, not realizing the diary had slipped out of your grip.

The day passed in a blur. Tests were coming up for all your classes and you could barely keep all the information straight in your head. You huffed as you sat down at the lunch table and pulled your book out. Gareth sat next to you and opened his mouth to say something, but you waved a hand dismissively.

“Just a few minutes, Gare. Almost done.”

The last few pages flew by before you closed the book with a thud.

“Good?” He asked.

“Amazinggggg,” you sang back.

Your table descened into a mess of conversation that stopped abruptly the moment Jason Carver walked up to you. Encountering Jason was never a good thing, especially up close.

He smiled at you, sending shivers down your spine. He waved a familiar small blue book at you. “I think this is yours.”

Your eyes grew as you turned to dig in your bag, confirming what you already knew. You turned back to him, face heating with embarrassment. “Give it back, Jason.”

His grin turned more antagonistic as you stood up and reached for your diary. He held it above your hands, opening it to the most recent entry.

“Ahem, everybody? Can I have your attention?”

You bristled as everyone turned your way, hands balling into fists at your side. Of course nobody could miss what stupid Jason Carver had to say.

Gareth stood and held out a hand for your book. “Hey, man. Just give it back to her.”

Jason pointed a finger into his chest, moving him back. “Hang on a minute, nerd. Gotta read something real quick.”

You darted around the table and surged toward Jason, groaning as you slammed against two of his goons that had stepped into your path. It was too late. Tears pooled in your eyes as he started to read, exposing your heart to the world.

He cleared his throat before starting in. You had written snippets of campaigns you would run if you were a DM and he skimmed over them, reading the romantic bits aloud and laughing cruelly as he continued to flip.

“Boring, boring. Yadda yadda. Oh! Here we go. This looks good.”

He slowly turned to Eddie, his grin spreading wider. Eddie glanced to you, confused and your stomach lurched as he started reading. This whole time he’d been working toward this grand finale of embarrassment and damn, it was working.

“Eddie is by far the cutest guy I know. He’s always so nice to me. I don’t have many friends and he has always been so welcoming. Ugh. Skip the gooey stuff. Aha! In short, I absolutely have a crush on Eddie Munson. How sweet, the freak and the lonely loser!”

By this time, you’d practically melted into the floor. You snatched your bag up and turned to Gareth. He saw your face crumple and started to rise, but you put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“I’ll see you later.”

The words came out in a rasp and you took off before you allowed yourself to breakdown. You burst through the library door, startling the librarian who shot up from her seat.

She tilted her head in concern and motioned for you to come behind the desk. She opened the door to her office, which you sped into, dropping your book on her desk as you went. She guided you to the small couch in her office and quickly brought you a cup of hot chocolate before stepping back out to the media desk and closing the door behind her.

You curled up against the cushions and sobbed, barely able to take sips of your drink. Your afternoon teachers would just have to wait to see you until Monday. Or maybe never if you decided to move out of the country.

~~~

You woke a while later, low voices murmuring outside the door.

“Have you seen her? I know she comes here a decent bit.”

“Mmm. Nope. Haven’t seen her since this morning,” the librarian retorted.

You pulled one of the blinds down to see Eddie standing across the counter. His eyes flicked to yours, drawn by the motion and you gasped, letting the blinds snap shut.

You began gathering your courage to step out. Meanwhile, Eddie’s mouth curled into an amused smirk. He spoke slightly louder, ensuring you could hear him.

“Alright, well if you see her, let her know I got her diary back from that jerk.”

You opened the door and poked your head out, bag slung over your shoulder. You looked to the librarian and nodded at her.

“I’m okay. Thanks for the hot chocolate. I’ll be back for more books next week.”

You offered her a grateful smile, which she promptly returned, patting your shoulder kindly. You stepped around the desk, arms crossed protectively over your chest as you looked into Eddie’s eyes. A gasp slipped out as you noticed his swollen split lip. “Hi,” you mumbled.

“Hello,” his voice lit with a smile. “Walk with me?”

You nodded and turned, brushing past him as he held the door open for you.

“Need a ride?”

“Probably,” you sighed.

It was just late enough in the day that all the buses were gone for the day, student parking lot almost emptied out.

He strolled at an easy pace beside you and you kept your eyes lowered, determined not to acknowledge the cafeteria incident. He paused right outside his van on the passenger side and pulled your blue book out from under his arm, passing it to you before he pulled the door open for you. You searched for a way to say thank you, I’m sorry, and never bring this up again, but instead gaped when you saw the other book he was holding.

“Why are you reading that book? I just turned it in.”

“Well. I thought it could help my campaigns.”

You turned away, embarrassed. He reached for your arm, taking hold of it gently.

“No no I’m not teasing you. I really liked your campaign ideas and thought that if you could write something like that after reading this, then maybe I could too.”

Your heart fluttered and you bit back a smile as you climbed into the van. Eddie shut the door once you were in and circled around to the other side, climbed in and started up the van.

The drive started off quiet until you couldn’t handle it anymore and blurted out, “I’m sorry!”

He chuckled, “What are you sorry for?”

“I just… I know he’s not above embarrassing people, but I feel like his main target was probably you, so I’m sorry. I know you like Chrissy and-“

You were cut off by him laughing and you shrank back into the seat. You trembled with frustration before saying, “Alright. If you’re gonna laugh at me, let me out. Stop the car.”

He rolled to a stop on the side of the road and you reached down for your seatbelt. He caught your hand in his and your breath halted in your throat, eyes tentatively rising to meet his. His bangs had grown a bit longer, landing right above his eyes. Your hand twitched, wanting to brush them aside. He squeezed your hand and your eyes drifted back to his.

“I like Chrissy. As a person. She’s very kind and we knew each other when we were younger. But I haven’t liked anyone else in a long time. No one besides you.”

Your thumb brushed his palm as your brain processed his words.

“Me? You like me?”

“That would be what I said, yes.”

“But why? Why didn’t you say anything before now?”

“Why didn’t you?” He grinned as you blushed under his gaze. “I didn’t say anything because you’re Gareth’s best friend. He really cares about you. And about Hellfire. I didn’t want to start anything between us that could get messed up and make things awkward for him.”

You smiled at his consideration for your friend. Your diary poked at your side from where you’d tucked it next to you in the seat.

“Can I read something to you? Jason read a lot but somehow missed the best parts.”

He nodded enthusiastically and his eyes lit up as you opened your diary, stopping when you found the entry you were searching for. You kept holding hands, shivering when his rings brushed over your skin.

“Today was a bad day. I didn’t do so well on a test and the bus was late and it was pouring down rain. When it finally got there, Eddie ran up behind me and held his vest over my head until I got on. It happened so fast, I’m surprised I remember it. But I’ll never forget looking out the window and seeing him standing there in the rain. His fingers were hooked into the collar of his vest and it was slung over his shoulder. God, he looks good in the rain.”

You blushed but continued flipping to the next entry and began again, emboldened.

“Today I realized that my crush on Eddie isn’t just because he’s cute and kind to me. He’s good to everyone. It sucks seeing people mess with him. He’s somehow gotten so amazing at laughing it off and continuing about his day. He defends the kids in Hellfire. He takes care of everyone. I just wish he had someone to take care of him. I wish he knew how special he is.”

You closed the diary, your finger still tucked in. Fingers tenderly slid under your chin and lifted your face. He was waiting for you, his sweet smile already painted across his face. He groaned and blew out a puff of air.

“I wanna kiss you so bad, but could I take you out first? Where do you wanna go?”

You thought for a moment. “Well, I like ice cream.”

“Ice cream it is, then! Cone-gratulations on being the cutest person in Hawkins!”

“Oh, my God, Eddie.”

He snorted and your laughed filled the car as it started down the road again. He turned the volume up, one of his tapes in the player, and hit the dashboard in excitement when he caught you singing along.

“No way, you know this song?”

“I started listening because of you and as it turns out, I like metal music.”

“You are absolutely perfect.”

He pulled your joined hands to his mouth, kissing yours, careful of his injury. He set your hand down gently in your lap and his hand curled around your knee, determined to keep you close.

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson hurt/comfort

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shygirl4991 · 4 months

Text

A shout out to @cody-the-cat enjoy seeing the idea come to life! All art is by @alianarepasa do not repost! A Four Chapter special as thank you for all the support you guys have given me! Next Chapter

Summary: SMG3 just wanted to make himself a nice cup of coffee before the work day began, but when he takes a sip from his freshly brewed coffee and passes out he will wake up to a huge surprise. Three other versions of himself now run wild in the mushroom kingdom and he has to stop them before the world learns all his secrets.

Tags: Love Confessions, Enemies to friends to lovers, Romantic comedy, fluff and angst,

Bob was running for his life as he hears the crowd of angry mob members after him, he looks at the vial he stole from them. He knew it would sell for a lot on the dark web but he wouldn't be able to sell it if he ended up in the bottom of the ocean. Looking around for a place to hide it he sees Three’s coffee and Bomb, he nods dashing in the cafe. A victory for Bob no one was around, he dumps the vile into the coffee machine then runs out “I'M TELLING YOU I DON'T HAVE IT!” he dashes off hoping no one will find his money maker.

Unknown to him by tossing the vial in the coffee machine it cracked, the liquid spilling in the machine getting mixed with coffee beans and gunpowder creating something new. SMG3 walks out of the elevator still waking up as he ties his hair up ready for another day, he turns on the coffee maker ready for his morning brew. He hums looking outside noticing SMG4 was hanging out with the crew, seeing the man's smile made his heart flutter. He rolls his eyes at the dumb emotion, sometimes he misses the days he would plot against Four trying to kill him and take over his channel. Hearing the coffee making go quiet he walks over picking up his cup of coffee, still being half asleep the man didn't notice the drink was glowing a strange color.

Sitting down he sips his coffee as he opens his journal and starts writing, he pauses and stares at the drink “The hell? I don't have cherry coffee here…” his eyes went wide, finally noticing the strange color the drink was. He leaves the cup on the table shaking, he gets up feeling strange as he looks at the strange color drink “What…the..fuck did i?” he falls to the floor feeling weak. He coughs as his vision starts to get blurry, as he blinks he starts to see colors. Three shadows, Pink, orange and lastly dark blue.

He passes out hearing a soft giggle from a voice that sounds similar to his own.

He doesn't know how much time has passed as he gets up rubbing his head, looking around an orange blur catches his attention. He turns his head staring at the person in the cafe “Oh…i'm dreaming!” The person in the cafe with him was himself. The orange SMG3 looks up from his journal fixing his glasses as he smiles at him “Ah original your awake finally!”

He slowly stands up staring at the other him, getting a closer look while they do look the same. The other version of him had subtle differences, the man's violet eyes look into his ruby eyes before they close as he sighs “I apologize, you have awoken and i haven't told you who i am. Ahem I am Supermemeguardian3 in charge of your logical thinking, a pleasure to finally meet you.” He fixes his glasses as he walks over to Three to shake his hand, he slowly reaches grabbing his hand “Oh god this isn't a dream…”

Now that the other him was closer he noticed the skull on the hat was different and had an appearance of a book, his hair was loose free from any restraint not to mention his hair was more wavy then his was. Taking a step back, the orange version of himself let out a soft chuckle “Yes this isn't a dream, we don't know how we got here. I have been waiting for you to awaken in order to work together to get to the bottom of this!”

SMG3 shakes his head feeling himself ready to scream “What…what do you mean your my logical side?

With a hum he starts to twirl his hair thinking “Whatever happened caused a split, your three strongest personalities at the moment in time turn into us?” SMG3 slowly nods as he turns and takes the elevator down to his room, Orange Three stood there confused until he heard loud screaming “Ah i had a feeling original would react like that.”

After a few moments Three comes out of the elevator looking drain “We need to name you, no way in hell we are going to call each other three it will get confusing.” His orange version nods watching Three checking him out. As he examines the outfit the one thing that stood out the most was the skull shaped book logo on the hat and shoes, with a nod he has decided “Given your logo looks like a book, how about we call you book3?” Book nods and smiles at him “Perfect i accept the name.”

Now that the name part of the conversation was over SMG3 had one thing that was bothering him “You have mentioned three of you guys got out…where are the other two?” Book opens his mouth then frowns awkwardly looking to the side “uh well those two ran out of the cafe so fast…i couldn't stop them and they are currently outside in the mushroom kingdom,” he lets out a sheepish smile as SMG3 glares at him.

“Oh my fucking ugh come on book we need to find the other two!” he grabs books and as he storms out of the cafe. Currently his logical side is out in the open, he takes a deep breath trying to remember what emotion he could have been feeling at the moment this happened. He was drawing blanks as he walked around holding Books hand, this was strange he stopped looking at their hands. Holding hands with Book made his mind buzz, he closed his eyes to focus on the feeling. His mind became more clear, Book became worried that SMG3 stopped walking. He let's go out of his hand “Original are you okay?”

SMG3 opens his eyes seeing a concern Book “Yeah…holding hands felt odd not like with Four this was different,” Book nods “It must be due to the fact I'm you, maybe it's our meme power trying to take me back but something is preventing the fusion from happening?”

They both hum thinking over it, suddenly a huge explosion happens catching their attention. They exchange looks before running to the sound of the explosion, there they see a dark blue SMG3 on a roof of a restaurant “LISTEN UP FUCKERS I RULE THIS PLACE!” Three stares in shock at his other personality. He was dressed similarly to his old design, looking at the hat the logo was a skull in the shape of a spade.

Spade looks down, noticing SMG3 and Book “Well look who it is! Sup loser finally picking to be fun, also saw you brought original with you what up!” he smirks showing off his spikey teeth. SMG3 climbs the ladder nearby to get closer to his other personality “Alright, mind explaining why the hell are you throwing bombs around?” Now that he was closer he noticed the small difference that was on Spade also, the personality had brown eyes and it turns out his hair was in a spiky ponytail. How the hell can someone just scream edge lord this hard core “Uh duh Original we are a villain, come on we rule the graveyard why not rule over this fucking place that would teach that loser SMG4.”

Three sighs walking over and lifting up Spade “What the fuck?!” without a second thought he throws Spade off the roof making Book run and catch Spade “You have some learning to do scrub, but before we can learn we need to figure out where the last one of you guys are!” Spade pouts making Book laugh. Noticing he is in Books arms Spade blushes “HEY PUT ME DOWN!” Book keeps laughing as he puts Spade down. SMG3 climbs down “Alright Book, Spade let's go!”

Spade looks at him confused “Wait.. am i Spade?” Book nods before following Three, Spade rolls his eyes and walks after them.

As they walked down the road he started to think about the last personality, he was drinking coffee before it all happened “I bet the last one of you guys has to be a coffee mix with bomb!” Spade lets out an evil cackle “More like a bowl of fruit loops!” Three looks at Spade confused, before he could ask Spade gasp running up to a store his eyes sparkling. Three follows and sees a paintball competition happening, Book sighs as he now has both Spade and Three glued to the window of a paintball store “Guy’s we are looking for the last personality remember?” Spade waves his hand “Yeah yeah but one game couldn't hurt!”

SMG3 agrees as they both giggle running into the shop, Book awkwardly looks around before stepping into the store. Shroomy turns smiling at them “Oh hey SMG3! Uh, who are your friends?” he blinks noticing how they looked similar to three “Oh they are my er twins?”

Shroomy gasp “Oh gosh i didn't know you had brothers Three!” SMG3 nods, acting annoyed “Why do you think my name is SMG3?”

Spade stomps to the counter smacking the table “Listen we are here to shoot shit, and all I'm hearing is talking so shut it and let me shoot shit!” Shroomy nods, handing Spade and Three paintball guns, Book takes a step back not interested in the distraction “No point in being scared of yourself,” hearing this Three turns rolling his eyes “Scared? Please im SMG3 why would i be scared of myself?”

Book walks up to Three “Because you know deep down who the last one is don't you?”

Three glares at Book, how would he know who the last one is? Spade was about ready to knock out Book for getting in the middle till he catches a pink blur, he chuckles “So that's where you went.” He slips out of the store while the other two are fighting. They hear the bell of the shop and turn to see Spade leave, in a panic Three runs out catching the attention of the last personality. His eyes go wide as they look into pink SMG3 teal green eyes, nervously he looks at the hat getting his answer on who this personality may be. He swallows as he stares at the Skull in the shape of a heart, he gets a huge smile from the personality and shakes the bags in his hands “Hey guys! I was just shopping for our Blue!”

SMG3 slowly takes a step forward “Blue?” Heart giggles at his confusion “SMG4 duh, i mean how can you not have a nickname for our future boyfriend!” Heart smiles as Book chimes in “Logic, Evil, and Romance guess we are now all here right original?” Three felt panic grow as he hurried to grab the personalities hands, he attempted to focus on the buzzing feeling. But nothing happens, he lets them go and stares at his hands confused. Book frowns seeing how upset Three looked. “If I may, I think the reason it didn't work is because you won't let us in.” Slowly he looks up and stares at heart. His hair looked so fluffy and had his bangs heart shaped, this man screams valentines days. Heart gives a soft smile to him “Don't worry we will figure it out! Now who wants cookies, I made them in the shape of our love!”

Seeing the cookies and the loving eyes was enough for SMG3 to take a step back and scream. The worst thing to ever exist is standing in front of him and its Romance.

#smg4 #shygirl4991 #smg34 #smg3 #smg4 smg3 #smg43 #smg34 fanfiction #alianarepasa #split into threes #fluff and angst #humor

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here4kpopfics · 2 years

Text

Leave the Door Open | JJK

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Pairing: neighbor!Jungkook x reader

Genre: smut, a dash of fluff, humor

AU: Strangers to lovers. Or Strangers to fwb? Up to you.

Wordcount: 7,367. oops

Summary: Based off this request. Your neighbor loves to sing karaoke in the middle of the night. You finally get fed up and confront him about it. Except when he opens the door, you realize you’re screwed. He’s gorgeous.

Warnings: Language. All the warnings are smut warnings.

Smut warnings: Explicit sex. Protected sex. Light choking/breath play. Pet names (Sparkles and baby) 69ing oral (both receiving). Light anal play/rim job. Spanking. Biting. Bulge kink. technically cum eating at the end? multiple orgasms. He makes her cry it feels so good. I feel like I’m missing something else. This is just porn with a very baseline plot

Rating: M / 18+

AN: How did we get here you ask? Well @here2bbtstrash made a request and I was just clocking off work and decided “yes. I wish to suffer. I have an idea” and spent the next 24 hours writing porn. Literally a day after posting my first smut. This is for M, but I hope you all enjoy. And as usual, thank you to the oh so beautiful @jjkeverlast for beta-reading for me. and @chryblossomjjk for enabling me with some of these kinks. 🥵 Banner and Divider made by the beautiful @classicseffects

and as usual, please leave feedback. Either with a reblog or send me an ask. It’s greatly appreciated. 💜

It’s been a long day. You had three sets of parents chew you out about the store you work at being out of stock of a specific item. No matter how many times you calmly tell them you have no control over the store’s inventory because you are just an associate, a cashier that never works the floor and couldn’t even begin to tell you where to locate said items. Not your department, not your problem. If your managers really wanted it to be your problem, they should pay you more. But they don’t, and instead schedule you at ridiculous hours and expect the world from you in return.

It’s finally 9PM which means you get to clock out and bolt home. You’re already planning the instant ramen pack and what to add with it from the convenience door next to your apartment building as you walk out the doors of hell. You want the spicy one. Should mix in an egg or something to bring the spice down a little bit, though. Maybe a bottle of soju as a treat? And absolutely some snacks and it’d be a crime not to get ice cream.

The whole bus ride home all you can think about is making the food, settling on the couch and watching the most recent kdrama and judging the couple’s miscommunication issues. Maybe a nice bath too. Oh that’d be nice. You’d light some candles, bring the soju in with you, and just stay in the tub with a nice bath bomb. You pray your neighbor isn’t home so you can have some silence.

You’ve never met your neighbor. He’s literally the apartment next to you, your bedroom shares a wall with what you assume is his bedroom as well. You’re not sure, but going off on the layout of the apartment complex and how similar every unit is, you assume it’s the bedroom. That and the few times you’d heard him bring a friend over and had been able to hear every moan and grunt from both parties. Although you could’ve sworn you heard three at one point. But it was always done on the weekends so it was fine. You weren’t too bothered by his sexcapades. Who were you to judge? If given the opportunity, you’d be bringing people home left and right. But the idea of all that flirting for just a one night stand seemed like too much effort.

Your problem with this mystery neighbor, however, is his karaoke habit. He has the voice of an angel and can sing anything with little effort. You actually enjoy listening to him sing, even softly singing along with him during the day. However, it’s not that often that it happens because he would usually carry out his karaoke escapades after 11PM and continue well into the night, usually around 3 or 4 in the morning. And always on weekdays, when you need the most sleep. You tried to work up the courage to confront him one night, but right when you left your apartment, he stopped and his place was silent. Another night, you just pounded the wall begging him to stop. He did eventually. But not until your thumps on the wall got lighter from you being too tired.

You finally enter your apartment, with the results of a successful quest for sustenance in your clutches. You slip off your shoes at the door, Toss your purse on the counter and begin preparing food. Mission: eat and drink everything and feel no regrets is a go.

While the water is boiling, you head to your room to change. You rip off your bra and your pants and grab a giant t-shirt that you’re pretty sure you accidentally stole from a one night stand years and years ago and have been too afraid to contact him again. So it’s yours now. It’s soft and not too thick. And it’s huge, which you love because it makes you look super tiny. You take note of how quiet it currently is on the neighbor's side. You wonder if he’s even home. Not your problem. You remind yourself as you return to the kitchen and get back to food prep.

It’s now close to midnight and you have eaten all the ramen, grazed across all the snacks, had a good amount of the ice cream, and gone through two and a half bottles of soju and were feeling pretty good. You grow bored of the kdrama and decide it’s time to take that super relaxing bath you daydreamed about on the bus. Your neighbor still makes no noise on the other side, so you take this moment to enjoy some peace and quiet.

You run the bath, light the assorted candles, and toss the bath bomb in before easing into the slightly too hot water full of oils, pretty colors, and an obscene amount of glitter. You put your hair up and slide down the tub in pure relaxation mode. Trying to erase the horrid customers from earlier. There’s no sounds save for the water dripping out of the tap and any movements you make against the water.

The problem with relaxing like this in your tub is your breasts aren’t fully submerged in the water. They could be, but then the water would overflow. The cool air hits your sensitive buds, causing you to clench your thighs together. After a few more breezes tease your nipples, you say screw it and reach your hand down between your legs, looking for any kind of friction. Your fingers find your bundle of nerves underwater and begin moving against it in a figure 8 motion. You whimper softly, entering two fingers past your folds, using your palm and the water to continue to work against your clit. Your other hand is massaging a breast, twisting and pulling the nipple every now and again. You could feel the knot in your stomach begin to burn, already so close to release. So close. Just right there. Right there, oh god right the - !

“Give me your, give me your, give me your attention, baby. I got to tell you a little something about yourself. You're wonderful, flawless, ooh, you a sexy lady. But you walk around here like you wanna be someone else.”

What. The. Fuck?

The sudden sound of your neighbor singing and the music blaring through every crack in the walls sends your hand flying away from your center, killing any chance at an orgasm. Your sudden movement causes the water to slosh over the edge and you hastily make to get out of the tub. You get one leg over onto the floor but it lands on a puddle of water and sends you flying forward. You brace your hands in front of you to catch on the countertop before you slam your face into it. Your other leg doesn’t go the right height to get over the tub and instead slams into the side of it. You let out a sudden cry or pain, finally steadying yourself against the counter.

You give yourself a few seconds to assess what the hell just happened. You were masturbating. It was great. You were so close to coming. And then your stupid neighbor decided right then was the time to sing Bruno Mars. And you almost died getting out of the tub. Fan-fucking-tastic.

You catch your breath, until you realize he’s still fucking singing. “That’s it. I’ve fucking had it.” Your voice is laced with hatred as you grab a towel and wrap it around your damp body, not giving a shit about the way you look. You need to give him a piece of your mind and you need to do it now while you have courage, amplified by the soju. You don’t even bother putting on your sandals as you march out your door, turning 90 degrees left and again until you’re facing his door. You take a deep breath and begin pounding on the door, mentally preparing which vile words would come out first. The music stops and you can hear footsteps approaching, but you keep knocking away until the door finally opens.

“You don’t have to keep knocking ya know, I heard the first three.” He has the audacity to sound annoyed with YOU making too much noise? Seriously? You open your mouth to retort back such thoughts when you finally catch a glance at the beautiful sounding singer with horrible timing that you want to strangle to death.

Fuck, he’s gorgeous.

He’s slightly taller than you. Black hair cut almost like a mullet. With his bangs split down the middle. A lip ring attached to his bottom lip. Big round eyes and a nose you immediately deem the cutest nose to exist. A few freckles scattered across his face and neck in the best places, you decide the one under his lip is your favorite. He’s leaning against the door wearing a matching pajama set of black silk with gray rectangles lining the entirety of it. His sleeves are rolled up and fuck he has a tattoo sleeve. You're ruined.

Your extremely attractive mystery neighbor just stares at you and you’re staring back, lips parted, still trying to find the words you were going to say before you knew you were going to say them to the prettiest man ever. Finally you just grab whatever words you can find so that it’s not silent.

“Fuck me…” his eyebrow quirks up and he crosses his arms across his chest.

“Sure, but at least tell me your name first.”

“What?” You frown.

“Unless you want to stick to nicknames. I’m down with whatever. You can be Sparkly Towel Girl. Though it doesn’t really roll off the tongue as well…” He smirks and it finally clicks in your head what just happened.

You’re in a towel. Only a towel. Your hair is a mess. You have glitter from the bath bomb glued to your skin that is actually still wet. And you just told him to fuck you. Your cheeks heat up and your eyes go wide. “No! No no no not what I meant.”

“You mean you don’t want me to fuck you?”

“No!” You scoff trying to sound offended. “Why would I want to have sex with you?” He shrugs.

“I don’t know, baby. You’re the one at my doorstep at 12:30 in the morning sopping wet in a towel sparkling like a fairy saying fuck me.”

“No I don’t. That’s not.” You’re very hyper aware of the towel now and tighten it around your chest, praying he both does and doesn’t see the way your cleavage pushes up. You cover your face, trying to rewind back to when you were angry. What were you angry about?

OH. The karaoke!

“I was taken aback. That’s why I said what I said. But that’s not important. What’s important,” you huff, welcoming back your anger with open arms, “is your constant need to sing in the middle of the fucking night on weekdays only. Do you have no consideration for your neighbors who work late nights and early mornings every day? I can accept you having obnoxious sex on the weekends, but keep the singing to day time hours, yeah? I’d like to get a good night’s rest at some point in my life.”

You rush your words, trying to put emphasis on you needing sleep, because you do. You were tired of sleeping only a few hours a night. Even then, it was constantly interrupted by this man’s beautiful voice. You look him in the eye, looking for any form of acknowledgement, until he silently nods. “Okay. No more singing at midnight. I’m sorry.” He almost sounds sincere and you’re willing to accept it and move on.

You make a small enough curtsy that your towel will allow and mutter a thank you before turning to leave. Just as you get back to your door, Sexy Neighbor speaks.

“You gonna tell me your name though, or am I going to have to call you Sparkly Towel Girl every time?”

You turn back to him with a softer glare this time. “Depends. You gonna tell me yours or am I going to have to call you Attractive Pajama Man?”

“So you think I’m attractive.” The most obnoxious grin forms on his lips.

“You know you are.” You roll your eyes and turn back to the door handle.

“Could say the same about you, Sparkles.” He’s having fun teasing you. But his tone turns more serious when he finally looks down at your leg. “Hey you okay?”

You look back at him, eyebrows raised in question. “Yeah, just a little traumatized and embarrassed but I’ll live” you joke, trying to make this as fast as possible so you can get back inside.

“No, I mean your leg. It’s bruised. And swollen.” You look down and gasp. Somehow in the span of you falling out of the tub and stomping over here to give me pleasant conversation has resulted in a gnarly bump forming on your shin as well as a deep bruise.

“Oh. That’s. That’s nothing. Ignore that ever happening. It didn’t.” You turn your door handle as he steps away from his door.

“You should probably go see a doctor. Or at least some ice packs. I have some in my freezer.” He actually sounds concerned as he starts stepping closer to you, eyes still honed in on the bruise.

“No, it's fine. I’m fine. Goodnight, stop singing in the middle of the night please, that's all I ask. Okay goodbye.” You open the door, swiftly rush inside and close the door before he can get to you.

Once you lock your door and head back to the bathroom to rinse off the glitter, you realize that glitter is just a way of life. No matter if you want it or not. It’s going to be stuck to you for days and follow where you go. You take a look at your leg and wince as you lightly touch it. It doesn’t feel broken, thank god. It’s just deep and super painful. You change back into pajamas and crawl into bed with an ice pack, pain relievers, and extra pillows to elevate your leg. You take the pills and settle in, scrolling through your phone until you fall asleep. Sexy neighbor man didn’t sing the rest of the night.

He actually didn’t sing the rest of the week.

He couldn’t. The sexy towel girl at his door looked exhausted. He genuinely had no idea you could hear him. He never heard you make any noises from your shared wall. Originally he was going to just keep singing. One cute girl wasn’t going to tell him what to do. But when he saw the bruise on your leg, he felt overwhelmed with guilt. He could only assume you got it when you rushed to knock on his door by how fresh it was.

So instead of singing around midnight. He had a hard cut off time at 10:45 and then switched to headphones where he would only sing as softly as he could as far away from the shared wall as possible.

What bothered him the most was he still didn’t know your name. He could easily go down to the mailbox room and find your number and therefore your name. But he didn’t want to do that. He wanted you to say it. And for you to say his name. He just had to find the right moment. Which was difficult when you seemed to always be out.

Five days later, he’s working out in his living room. Yes, it’s midnight. Yes, there’s a gym in this building. But he’s got to stay just in case. He’s beginning to lose hope in ever seeing you again, ignoring how ridiculous that sounds when you literally share a wall with him. And it’s only been five days. As he finishes a set of push ups, hope is restored. You’re home. And you’re loud? He freezes, trying to imagine what you're doing just by listening. You’re actually laughing but it doesn’t sound genuine. It almost sounds painful, like you’re angry? A few moments later, he hears music. It’s loud, and he chuckles to himself.

“Let’s see what happens, Sparkles.” He heads to the bathroom, removing all of his clothes and stepping in the shower to briefly wash off the sweat. He steps out and wraps a towel around his hips. He leaves the shoes just like you did and heads straight to your door, pounding on it in the exact same manner you did.

You’re dancing around the kitchen, clothes strewn about the floor as a result of you rushing to change into the giant shirt again with just your underwear underneath. You just got to the chorus, brand new bottle of whiskey in hand and are about to go hard into the dance when someone starts pounding on your front door, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin. You swing the door open, not caring that your legs and hips were on full display, and are met with you could only assume a hallucination.

You both eye one another up and down, unable to speak. Your eyes are locked on the towel, specifically the corner of the towel that’s tucked into itself to stay attached to his hips. You’re not sure if you’re drooling from your mouth, but you know another place is. Finally, he clears his throat and grabs your attention away from the towel.

“I think I see what you meant. It’s a bit hard to focus when that’s what I’m greeted with.” He tries to hide the devilish smile he gestures to your legs. You hum, not really sure if you’re agreeing, and if you are, to what. Your focus is back on the towel and the abs above it. You want to scratch them. You want to mark any part of him you can. He tilts his head, trying to get your attention a second time. “Sparkles? You okay?”

You finally make eye contact with him. “Sparkles?” You question in a whisper, suddenly remembering the last encounter. “Oh…right…” You hum in response again and then look at the bottle of whiskey in your hand and then back to him, his mouth specifically, down to that damn towel, and back to the whiskey. You shrug as if someone made a good point and put the bottle down on the side table next to you. You smile something sinister and reach out for the towel, tugging him inside, with him closing the door behind himself.

“This is a better option than whiskey.” You let go of the stubborn towel still attached and reach up to wrap your hands around the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to meet yours in a needy kiss. His eyes widen, hands going for your waist, pulling away from your lips

“What is happening right now?” He sounds so serious and you hate it, so you reach back for his lips when he shuts you down again. “First of all. You’re drunk. So this is not happening.”

“I’m not drunk…I was going to. Brand new whiskey. See?” You pick the bottle back up, showing off its perfectly unbroken seal. “You can even smell my breath. Not a lick of liquor. Very sad. But now you’re here. That's way better.” You pull him back down to you and capture his lips again, this time he returns it in full, gripping your waist and pulling you flush against him.

“As much as I appreciate being considered better than alcohol, and glad you can consciously consent,” he smiles into the kiss, “there’s one more thing, Sparkles.”

“Hmm?” You moan out. He kisses down your chin, across your neck, and buries his face into the crook of your neck, biting and leaving marks along the way.

“I need to know your name, sweetheart. And you need mine.”

“I don’t need yours.” You mumble back. He laughs, pulling away from your neck to see your face.

“You will need it if you’re going to be screaming for me.”

He can actually see you process this thought, mentally going through every scenario where you don’t know his name. Finally settling on him unfortunately being correct. You don’t want to be called Sparkles during sex and you need a better name than Sexy Neighbor. You lock eyes, suddenly very aware of what's going on. You let fears and anxieties walk out the door and you nod.

“It’s Y/N” you practically whisper. You let your fingers toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, leaning forward to kiss his nose. He smiles at the soft action, tipping his nose up to capture your lips again. This time, slow and methodical, but still as desperate. He only pulls away enough to say his name against your lips.

“Jungkook, baby. It’s Jungkook. Now let’s get out of your hallway. I have a girl in front of me who had a very specific request last week. I need to fulfill it.” He lowers himself just enough that he can hook his hands behind your thighs and lift you up and return his lips to yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, subtly trying to take the stupid towel off with your feet, but failing miserably.

You’re not sure how you ended up on your bed. You didn’t tell him where to go. You mindlessly confirm your assumptions were correct and you had the same floor plan so he just knew where to go.

He lies you down on your back, legs still hooked around him and he awkwardly crawls over you, mouths staying connected until he rolls his hips into yours. That stupid towel still attached and rubbing against your covered core. You whimper at the friction, but it’s not enough.

You let your legs go from around his form and reach down, finally tugging the towel away and tossing it across the room like it was poison. “Finally” you accidentally huff out loud, causing him to burst into breathy laughs on your lips. You ignore him, reaching down for his length which, though you haven’t seen it yet, feels overwhelming. He’s hard and you can feel the precum on his tip as you slide your thumb over it. You bring your hand down his length, twisting your wrist as you bring it back up, thumbing his tip again. His lips part as he lets out a groan.

“Fuck, baby. Be careful, I’m embarrassed to say I might not last if you keep touching me.”

You whine. “Want it. Want your cock.” You sound so needy and desperate, the complete opposite of how you usually are in bed. Usually in control, usually a brat that needs to be punished. You’ve never been truly submissive like you feel right now. You can’t bring yourself to care.

“And you’ll have it. But first, let me taste you and get you ready.” He moves to sit up and push you further up the bed when you mutter out a “No.” He stops everything and looks at you. Your eyes are trained on his member. “No? Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?” You just shake your head again.

“Wanna taste at the same time.” You mumble, pulling yourself up, pushing the still confused man to be the one that lays back. You peel your underwear off, leaving the shirt on, and crawl over him, hovering your center just above his chest while facing away from him. You lean forward, grabbing his erection and giving a long lick from the base to the tip, wrapping your lips around the tip and sucking. You can hear his guttural reaction and suddenly two hands are violently tugging your hips closer to his face. You stop sucking long enough to reposition your knees on opposite sides of his head. He brings your hips down when you feel settled and dives into your sopping wet center.

“Shit. That feels so fucking good.” You moan, leaning back down, slowly easing his cock down your throat. He bucks his hips up unintentionally and you gag slightly, but he doesn’t hear. Instead, you brace both hands on his meaty thighs and bob your head up and down, taking him all the way each time and gagging around him before coming back up. You rut your hips against his face as he continues fucking his tongue into you, sucking on your bundle of nerves in intervals. He brings two fingers into play, sliding them against your entrance a few times before easing them into you, letting you fuck yourself with them.

Feeling close to his own release, he glances up at your rim. He runs a thumb along it, adding the smallest pressure possible, yet still earning a pleased reaction from you. He takes that as a yes and brings his tongue to your hole, licking flat against it before dancing his tongue around the rim. You keen, your head falling against his cock that you’re subconsciously still stroking. “Don’t stop. I’m so close. Please, Jungkook. Keep going.”

You find a strand of energy in you, determined to make him come at the same time and wrap your mouth around his tip again, hands working the shaft while you suck mercilessly. You both let out a series of loud moans, groans, and cries before you feel your hips spasm against his mouth, coming hard. At the same time, his hips snap up, ramming his cock even farther into your mouth, shooting the bitter white liquid down your throat. You swallow proudly, resting your head on his pelvis to take a breath.

“What the hell was that…” was all Jungkook could mutter, still processing what just happened. After a few moments he pats your leg where your bruise was starting to fade. “Wait.” He raises his head, a little shocked. ”Did you swallow?” You smile and nod, rubbing your cheek into his skin, humming out a yes and kissing whatever skin was there. He can barely see what you’re doing, but the feeling alone is enough to make his member come back to life. You feel it twitch and move to sit up again and grab it. But he catches you in time, flipping you around and over so he is now facing you from above. “No no. Not again. You specifically said ‘fuck me’ last week. I intend on doing that.” You groan at the change in positions and mope. You look tired and he’s still thinking about your frustrated laugh from earlier.

“But first,” he grabs both of your wrists in one hand, sliding them up above your head while holding himself up with the other by your head. He leans down, leaving a soft kiss on your lips. “First, I need to know why you decided to blast music at midnight, and why you were about to crack open a bottle of whiskey by yourself. Are you okay?” his face softens, no longer full of lust. It’s still there, hiding behind his concern and obviously pressing up against your stomach. But he clearly has more important needs right now. Like making sure he’s not about to make a mistake.

You get lost in his eyes for a moment before nodding slowly, supressing the emotions building up behind your eyes. “Yeah. Just had a bad day. But I’m fine, I promise.” Your smile doesn’t fully reach your eyes and Jungkook doesn’t know if he believes you.

“No bad breakup or fight with a guy or girl I should know about? I don’t do rebounds and I don’t condone cheating.” He’s very serious. You just laugh, this time it’s real and he can tell immediately.

“God, no. No exes or currents. Haven’t had that in years. No no no. Just…I got fired from my job and want to have something good before having to deal with the impending doom of reality, okay? Just make me forget for a moment, please?” Those stupid emotions are on the brink, threatening to spill from your eyes. You shut them tight, fighting against the feelings you want to let go. He sighs, leaning down to kiss your eyelids, moving up to your forehead.

“Okay, baby. I can do that. Do you want it rough or gentle?” You puff out a breath, trying not to laugh at the question.

“Either is fine. Rough would be better…” you mutter under your breath. He just nods, kissing your forehead again, trailing down to your ear.

“I’ll make you forget, baby. Just focus on me and how I make you feel, okay?” You nod, moaning softly when he licks the shell of your ear. “Where are your condoms, y/n?” You gesture with your head to the left nightstand and he lets go of your wrists to briefly move off you to grab one. He comes back, foil unwrapped and rolling it down his length. He gazes down at you and you can see a weird shift in his face. His tone suddenly becomes darker as he slowly pumps himself.

“You’re gonna be good for me, right babygirl?” You nod enthusiastically, mentally making fun of yourself for switching to full submissive for a guy you just learned the name of.

“I’ll be good, I promise.” you sweetly respond, lifting and spreading your legs open for him to crawl in between. He sets one leg on his shoulder, leaving the other to rest on the bed as he lines himself up to you, smirking as he rubs the tip against your clit for a moment, watching you squirm before fully entering you without hesitation.

“Oh fuck” is all you can let out as you lift your hips to meet with him. He lets out a low groan as he pulls out everything but the tip, pushing your hips back down, keeping them there, and slamming back down into you. You arch your back, one hand grabbing onto the bed sheets and the other reaching out for any part of him. He notices, smiling as he leans back down, giving you better access. You find his waist and dig your nails in as he continues with his relentless pace on your pussy. He grunts loudly, fully leaning down over you, both knees over his shoulders.

You grab his neck and pull him into a sloppy kiss, teeth crashing together as you try to breathe through the pounding. “You feel so good, Jungkook. So big. Stretching me out perfectly. Fuck me just like that please. Don’t ever stop.” You cry out mumbling for him to not stop over and over.

He finds his new favorite spot on your neck and bites down before sucking, ensuring you’d be marked, and moving on to another spot. You mewl at his little art project on your neck mixed with the feeling of him fucking into you over and over until you come without warning. His hips stutter at the noise and feeling of you clenching around him and he has to still himself inside you before he finishes. “I’m not done with you yet, baby. Flip over. All fours. Now.”

You oblige, albeit slowly. Your legs are shaky and you don’t know if you can hold yourself up very well, but you try. The moment you think you can keep yourself up, a hard smack sound fills the room as his large hand meets your ass. Your arms give out and you almost face plant into the pillows before a tattooed arm slides around your waist pulling you up to your knees.

“No, you don’t. No resting, baby. On your knees, I’ll keep you up.” His hand slides up your chest, under your shirt, creeping out of the neckline to wrap around your throat, holding you against his chest, letting you rest your head back on his shoulder. You’re panting and whimpering against him. He kisses your temple, quietly asking if you were good to continue. You nod and whisper a yes as he slips himself back inside you and continues his pace like he never missed a beat.

“Baby, you’re so tight but you take me so well. You feel like fucking heaven.” He pants in your ear, the hand not around your throat sliding down between your legs to your pulsing center. You whine and struggle as he starts rubbing in big lazy circles. It’s after a particularly deep thrust he feels something under his palm. He does it again to confirm and grins.

“Give me your hand, baby.” You lift it up without thinking too much, unsure where he wanted it. He grabs your wrist and places your hand flat against your lower stomach just above where he’s ruining you. He does another deep thrust and you feel it. Your eyes widen and he chuckles. “You feel that? Feel me all the way inside you?” You’re silent, in shock at the bulge you feel. “How about now, baby? Feel it now?” He gives another sharp thrust, lessening his clutch around your throat, forcing you to cry out.

“Yes I feel it!” You feel the knot inside you coil up and ignite. “Please. Jungkook. I can’t. I can’t take it anymore. He eases you back on to all fours and you grab a pillow, clutching it for dear life. To compensate for not being able to be on all fours, you put all your strength into raising your ass to meet with his hips perfectly. He groans at the view, slapping your ass again. He uses both hands to grab to give it a massage, separating your cheeks to get a better view. He sees a perfect opportunity to make you see stars and keep your mind off anything troubling you.

“You wanna come for me, baby?” His voice is low. You nod into the pillow. “Remember what I did with my tongue earlier?” His thumb softly grazes over your hole and you nod, letting out a whiny moan, pushing your ass back for more. “Do you trust me?” You nod again. “No, y/n. I need to hear you say it. Do you trust me?” He asks again.

You frown, lifting your face out of the pillow just enough to force out the words “Yes, I trust you. Please, let me come. Please.” And tuck your face back into the pillow.

“Thank you, baby. Relax for me. Just enjoy it.” He pulls out momentarily, chuckling as you whine at the feeling. He sinks his thumb past your folds, gathering up any arousal he could before inserting his cock back inside, eliciting a low moan out of both of you. He smears his thumb across your puckered hole a few times, adding more pressure each time. Once he feels you relax more, he presses his thumb past the tight ring of muscles at the same time as he thrusts his hips deeply into your cunt.

You suck in a breath and hold it, toes curling, and you bring the pillow even closer to your face, biting down on the satin pillowcase. He holds his position with his free hand on your hip, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. “Breathe, baby. It’ll feel better when you breathe.” He whispers, slowly pushing deeper until his knuckle slips past the muscles. You let out a guttural moan, pressing yourself back towards him, helping him get the rest of his thumb in. “Can I move again, y/n? You’re okay?” You nod into the pillow almost shouting a yes into it.

He resumes thrusting, starting slow, eventually building back up to his rapid pace curling his thumb with every thrust. Your moans are deep, cut off by trying to catch your breath every other moan. “Jungkook. I’m coming. Please. Let me. Say I can come.” If he wasn’t so close himself, he’d be chuckling at you begging, teasing you and edging you. But he needs his release just as much as you do.

“Come for me, baby. Let go. Come all over my cock.”

And that’s all you need to hear before you’re screaming his name and varied obscenities, clenching around him as you enter a state of euphoric bliss. You see stars and in the background you hear him groan deeply, coming inside of the condom deep inside you. He eases his thumb out of you while you’re out of it and just takes in the view below him, face still in your pillow, back shivering and rising and falling in time with your rapid breathing. How the hell did he just have the best orgasm of his life with a girl he literally met twice even though you’ve been neighbors for who knows how long? His hand on your hip tightens a little as he moves to pull out of you. A small whimper coming from you in the pillow.

Once he’s fully pulled out of you, you fall on your side, freeing the pillow from your face, ignoring the drip of saliva coming with it and watch him begin to remove the condom. You’re exhausted. You don’t want to keep going. Yet your body moves of its own accord and you hold yourself up enough to reach out to stop him from doing it. “Let me” you choke out. He removes his hands, watching you carefully as you slowly remove the condom, hissing slightly at your touch.

You hand him the condom to tie up and toss aside and gently hold up his length covered in his release and, locking eyes with him, lick up his length. “What the fu-uck?” He groans out, tossing his head back. You clean up every inch of him, ending on his tip and he has to softly push you away before he gets hard again. “No. Baby, stop. No more. I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I am spent.” He whispers into a laugh.

You grin up at him, launching yourself backwards, spreading out on the bed. Your shirt riding up your stomach. He’s not sure what to do next. Should he leave? Ask to use your restroom first? But why do that when he lives next door. You can see his confusion, you pat the space next to you, gently moving yourself over, wincing all the while, so he has room. He smiles, laying down on his side next to you. It’s silent for a moment. He reaches out to play with the bottom of your shirt.

“Is there a reason you kept this on?” He questions, mindlessly running his fingernails across the hemline.

“It’s too big. Makes me feel small. And you haven’t earned the right to see this divine pair of tits.” You smile at his gaping reaction.

“After all that?! And I still don’t have the privilege?” He drops the fabric and waves his hand around the both of you. “Literally ruined you and I don’t get to see the goods.” He whines dramatically. You giggle, sleep fast approaching.

“Next time.” You mumble.

“Oh there’s a next time?” His eyebrows raise and he smiles.

“You think after all that,” you mimic his gestures, “I wouldn’t want a next time?” You both burst into a fit of giggles. He stops first, reaching out to remove a strand of hair from your face.

“Well I surely look forward to next time then.” He whispers softly, moving a bit closer at the same time.

“Who knows? Next time could be in the morning.” You say it so confidently. You had expected him to fuck you and bolt. But him staying has to mean at least a little something, right? Except his happy expression falls into that of worry and uneasiness.

“I actually have to go out of town tomorrow.”

“Oh…” you frown, trying not to look too devastated. He cups his hand around your face, gently smiling.

“I’ll be back in like three days. I’ll let you know. Then we can have as many ‘next times’ as you want, okay?” He grins as your expression perks back up, leaning across to give you a few soft and sensual kisses. “I’m going to stay here until you fall asleep. But I have to pack, so don’t think I just got up and left in the morning, okay?” You nod your head, shuffling closer to tuck your face into his chest and drift off to sleep immediately.

When you wake the next morning, he’s gone. As he said he would be. And thus began three days of complete silence.

On the day of his alleged return, you stayed home all day pampering yourself. You put on one of your favorite lingerie sets that really enhanced your already marvelous chest and curves and put the same big shirt back on over you.

You were ready by midday but you had one problem. You had no idea when he was coming back. You two didn’t swap phone numbers or socials. He didn’t tell you any details. So you spent the rest of the day on the couch moping about being fooled. Which didn’t make sense in the first place. You two weren’t anything. You had a crazy intense one night stand and that’s it. There was no date offered. No deal made. Nothing. So why were you getting dressed up for a one night stand? You tried to reason with yourself until you fell asleep on your bed around 8PM, figuring he wasn’t going to come back, and if he did, he forgot about you either on purpose or accident.

You’re jolted awake by loud music and the beautiful voice of your stupid sexy neighbor at 11PM.

“What you doing? Where you at? Oh, you got plans? Don't say that. I'm sipping wine in a robe. I look too good to be alone. My house clean, my pool warm. Just shaved. We should be dancing, romancing in the east wing and the west wing of this mansion, what's happening?”

He sounds like he’s directly on the other side of the wall and you both hate him for doing this and love that this is how he’s waking you. He continues on as you check yourself in the mirror, convincing yourself you still look good and not to get too excited and eager.

“I ain't playing no games. Every word that I say is coming straight from the heart. So if you tryna lay in these arms, I'ma leave the door open.”

He belts out the last line and you can’t help but laugh. After a final once over, you head out of your room. He’s still singing as you put your slippers on and head out the door.

“And I'm hoping, hoping that you feel the way I feel. And you want me like I want you tonight, baby.”

You turn to his door but it’s already cracked open. You roll your eyes at his ridiculousness and open the door to a reverse layout of your apartment. You take your slippers off and follow the sound of his beautiful voice to a room with the door closed. You knock and he answers, finishing the song as your eyes meet his.

“Girl, I'm here just waiting for you. Come on over, I'll adore you.”

The song ends and your smile turns to one of annoyance.

“You didn’t tell me when you were coming back. I waited all day wrapped up like a gift for you and honestly the least you could’ve done is write down a flight numbe - “ he shuts you up with a greedy kiss and you melt instantly as he pulls you closer.

“What’s the gift? Do I get to see this divine chest I’ve heard rumors about?” He grins into the kiss, and you hold the laugh in. You step away from him and remove your shirt, showing off the extravagant set underneath. He lets out a strained groan. “You just don’t know how to warn a guy, do you? Get on the damn bed, Sparkles.” He snaps, pulling you into the room and shutting the door. The start of another intense night.

AN: yay open endings. Decide how it goes. Fwb? Lovey dovey? Have fun. Thank you for reading, I love you! 💜💜💜💜💜

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pink-princess-pussy-pop · 1 year

Text

Roomies - Edmund Pevensie x Reader Modern AU!

Word count: 4.2k

I just had a glorious idea about a modern Narnia AU. I'm not British so lmao. Football in this means Soccer. slay

Fem identifying reader. Mention of having long hair.

Summary: Edmund is an asshole AND your roommate. But he also happens to be a really attractive asshole roommate. And apparently, a really possessive one too.

Warnings: Language, smut, mutual pining, SO SWEET at the end!!

I'm down bad for him

"What time will you be back today?" You and Edmund were in the kitchen, eating breakfast before your day of classes began.

You glanced at him, shirtless in all his glory, eating a piece of toast. He was leaning on the counter, watching you butter your own.

"My writing class was canceled so I will be back around 1." Edmund audibly sighs, a sign that he will definitely have company over at that time. "Don't ask me to stay on campus. Just because you can't keep it in your pants doesn't mean I should be exiled from my own home."

Edmund pushes himself off of the counter, chuckling to himself.

"I wasn't gonna ask you anything. I just didn't think you'd be one to listen though." Before you could respond, he was gone.

Several hours later, you pulled into your parking spot in front of your and Edmund's apartment. You had since forgotten about your earlier conversation until you opened your front door to hear the oh-so-delightful noises of Edmund's newest friend moaning at the top of her lungs.

You have to stop yourself from gagging.

"Jesus." The time was 1:30. You had given him thirty extra minutes. "I fucking hate him." This was untrue, as you really did not hate the handsome man who you lived with. Underneath your facade of disdain and disgust, lay your actual feelings toward your roommate. Ever since he took his sister Lucy's spot in the lease for her year abroad, you developed a minor, (major!!!), crush on him. And your feelings of disgust? Totally not jealousy!

You had spent the better half of the last five months trying not to listen to him and his lady friends in his room and pining over him from yours.

How could you not be attracted to Edmund Pevensie? A pre-law major with dark hair and dark eyes, and a dashing smile. Not to mention the spatter of freckles that covered his body, toned from years of playing football. Jesus, you were down so bad for your flatmate.

You set your stuff down on the couch in your shared living space and turned to the sink where his dishes lay, unclean. Still able to hear the actions of the lovely people downstairs, you turn your music up all the way to drown out the noise before unloading the dishwasher and loading it again with his dishes.

Minutes later, the front door opens and closes, signifying that Edmund's friend has left. You turn your music down and focused on the plate you are scrubbing, dried mac and cheese would not come out in the dishwasher, as Edmund walked up the stairs.

"Ah. So you are home." His accent makes you smile the slightest bit. You can see him in your peripheral, shirtless with grey sweats low on his hips. You move your eyes away quickly. "Did you enjoy what you heard, darling?" Rolling your eyes, you look at him, not giving into the flutter of your heart when he called you darling.

"You're a pig, Pevensie." You weren't anticipating his next move and were startled when his lips were suddenly on your cheek.

"You love me."

"Ew!" Glaring at him, you wipe the wetness from his lips off of your face and then wipe your hand on a paper towel only to find him grinning at you. You do a once-over of his uncovered torso, which you could now see was adorned with scratches and bruises. "Go put a shirt on." Edmund glances down, smile widening, before looking back at you.

"And cover up the view? Nah." You move to put the plate you had been washing away in the cabinet and then suddenly, Edmund is behind you, his body only inches from yours.

You try to ignore the heat radiating off of his bare skin and how his fingers brush yours when he reaches above you to grab a bowl. He steps away quickly and if he noticed a change in your demeanor, he didn't bring it up. You left the kitchen area, grabbed your backpack, and went to your room.

How in the world did he have this effect on you? As soon as your door was closed and you were safe in the comfort of your bedroom, you let out a sigh of relief. A buzz pulled your attention from your feelings toward Edmund to your phone.

r u going to the party tn???

It was your friend Alyssa, whom you had met freshman year in your Intro to Psychology class.

You know I don't like parties.

You flop on your bed, awaiting her pleading response. In truth, you didn't hate parties, you just didn't see the point in going out and getting drunk with strangers when you could get drunk in the pleasure of your own home.

im coming over at 8 and we are getting ready together

You knew there wouldn't be a point in fighting her on the topic since sooner or later she would have convinced you to go.

Hours later, after Edmund had left for his evening classes, and also the party you presumed, Alyssa knocked on your front door and seconds later walked into your room.

"Is he here?" You sit up on your bed, your book falling onto your comforter beside you.

"No." Alyssa had gone straight into your closet, pulling out an outfit for you to wear.

"Good. That way he won't know you are going tonight." Your eyebrow quirks up.

"What does that mean?"

She turned to you, a smirk gracing her tanned face.

"We both know that if your roomie knew you were going tonight, he would have texted all his little friends to keep away from you."

This was true and it was annoying, but one night while drunk, you had let it slip to him that you were a virgin. Since then, Edmund had made sure that no guys would talk to you at parties.

You made no effort to argue and reached over to pick up what she had chosen for you to wear. It was simple, a pair of faux leather pants and a black lace corset. (the urban one iykyk)

"Alyssa, I haven't worn this top out-"

"All the more reason to wear it tonight! C'mon! It will be fun! Besides, maybe Ed will finally take notice of your feelings and how hot you are."

"Alyssa!" She smiles.

"Ok fine. But maybe you'll meet another guy. Since our good friend hasn't had time to scare anyone away."

The idea intrigues you, maybe you'd have a good time tonight.

You notice what she is wearing, a pair of straight-leg jeans and a black tank top. She looks amazing, as always. You get up to sit at your desk to begin applying your makeup.

"So what do you suppose he will do when he sees you looking all sexy?"

"Nothing?" Your reply earns you an eyebrow raise.

"Nothing? You don't think he's gonna react at all?"

You shrug, leaning forward to perfect your winged eyeliner.

"There is nothing he can do now. If he wants to try and ruin my night, he can go ahead. If I'm going to this party, I intend on having a good time." Alyssa giggles.

"Maybe even get laid?" You whip around in your chair to glare at her.

"Seriously?" Her laughter grows.

"Hey, if not by Edmund, you're bound to find someone at this party!"

Your heart beats faster at the thought.

...

You and Alyssa arrive at the party at around eleven. It has been going on for about an hour so it had grown quite large. The other girls around you are dressed similarly to you, bringing some comfort into the oddness you felt about your appearance. Alyssa had requested you wear your hair down and straight and you obliged.

To be honest, you did look amazing. The corset had been a perfect fit, makes your chest look fantastic, and the pants fit you like a glove, hugging your ass so well that when you saw yourself in the mirror, you were surprised. The look was completed with your dark green platform converse, which somehow made you feel comfortable.

While walking through the crowd of people, you keep your eye out for a certain raven-haired boy, but couldn't seem to find him.

"Hey, don't think about him. Just have a good time." Alyssa nudges your arm and you nod, disregarding the looming thought of Edmund's reaction to your appearance at the party.

"You're right. I'm gonna go get a drink." You leave her in a room filled with sweaty university students to find the kitchen, where you presumed the alcohol to be.

To be honest? You felt great. You looked great and with no Edmund around, you had nothing to worry about. If you wanted to flirt with a cute guy, you would.

You round the corner and spot the kitchen, and a pack of Trulys, and made a beeline for the drinks. As you fish a black cherry seltzer out of the box you hear someone call your name.

"Y/N!" You turn abruptly and came face to face with a familiar face.

Sam, a friend of Edmund's from football, smiling at you.

"How are you?" Sam is very attractive, with blond hair and sparkly blue eyes, he's the complete opposite of Edmund.

"I'm alright." You smile at him.

"I didn't expect you to be here."

"Yeah, it was kind of a last-minute decision." You take a swig of your drink as he smiles down at you.

"Well, I'm glad. I was hoping I would be able to speak to you at some point. Ed's always telling the team to stay away from you." You roll your eyes.

"Sorry about that, I don't know why he does that. Is he here tonight?" Sam nods.

"Yeah, he's somewhere around here." Sam glances around, as if nervous that he'd get in trouble for talking to you. "Do you wanna dance?"

"Sure!" Sam takes your hand and leads you back into the room where you left Alyssa, back to the loud music and dancing. It is then that you see Edmund for the first time.

He's walking down the stairs holding hands with a pretty blonde girl who is dressed in a dark green slip dress. You wrap your arms around Sam and pull him into your body. His hands settle on your hips, fingers hooking onto your belt loops and pulling you closer.

You make eye contact with Edmund and his eyes widen and then narrow at the sight of you with Sam. You can see him mouth something to the girl he is with but instead of paying attention to him, you focus on Sam.

The two of you dance to the music and you forget about Edmund. You realize you have run out of your drink and tap Sam's shoulder.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I just need another drink! Give me like fifteen minutes. I need to check on my friend, too." You smile at him before returning to the kitchen, where you happen to find Alyssa.

"Hi!" Lord, she is drunk. "I've missed you! Where have you been?" You giggle at her antics, pouring yourself a shot of vodka, the burning causing you to make a face as you take it.

"I've been dancing! With a guy named Sam from the football team!"

Her eyes widen in shock and she grins at you.

"OMG. Fucking finally!" She takes the initiative to pour you, and her, another shot.

...

Ten minutes later, and maybe 4 more shots later, you and Alyssa are drunk off of your asses.

"So you're telling me that if Sam wanted to take you home tonight, you'd say no?" Her arm is clasped around your forearm.

"Yes." You can't contain your giggling.

"But why? He's so hot and obviously into you!"

Your face flushes as you think of the real reason you don't want to spend the night with Sam.

"You know why." You take a sip of your newly opened Truly and glare at her.

A deadpan look blooms on her face.

"I forgot." Your eyes roll.

"Because I like someone else!" Alyssa gets really excited at this news.

"WHO?" You shush her, her voice well above the other chatter in the small kitchen you are in.

"You know who!" Her face contorts into confusion.

"No, I don't."

"It's..." You look around, suddenly very aware through your drunken haze, just to make sure there aren't any lurkers to hear your conversation. "It's Edmund!" You whisper.

"Oh! I did know that!" She giggles and takes a sip of her drink. "Yeah, I remember how you said you were jealous of all of the girls he fucked and how you wished he would-"

"Jesus Christ, Alyssa! Shut up!" She continues.

"just fuck you already!" Your face is red and you are mortified. Anyone passing by could have heard what you had been talking about. "Don't worry babe. Everyone here is way too drunk to even remember this conversation. I'm too drunk to remember this conversation!" A small smile graces your lips. "So, how do you want him to do it?" You hit her arm.

"Alyssa!"

"What? I wanna hear about your Edmund fantasies!" Your blush deepens. "C'mon!"

"Fuck- fine. I've always imagined him..." You cannot believe you are speaking your deepest secret aloud, at a party nonetheless. "I don't know. Cornering me in the kitchen." Alyssa squeals.

"Counter sex!" The girl is fucking giddy at the thought of you getting some action in your kitchen. You roll your eyes but nod.

"I guess..." Suddenly, you remember the nice boy you had been dancing with. "Shit! I have to go find Sam! He probably thinks I ditched him. Will you be ok?" She smiles and nods at you.

You trek back into the masses to find the blonde guy and he's right where you left him. You catch his eyes and smile.

"Hey! I'm so sorry. I found my friend and we ended up talking for a bit. I didn't mean to leave you here." He doesn't respond right away and looks away from your eyes, glancing around. "Is everything ok? You look uncomfortable."

"Listen, you are really nice but I don't think this is gonna work out." Confusion wipes across your face.

"What the hell? We were just dancing!" You don't understand what you could have done to make him act this way.

"It's not you, really. It's just-" You cut him off, suddenly very aware of what was happening.

"He told you to leave me alone, didn't he?" Sam looks apologetic as he nods.

"I'm sorry, I really like you." You run a hand through your hair.

"I'm so fucking done with this." You leave Sam and look around for the dark mess of hair you know so well. You're pissed. Even though you weren't going to do anything with Sam, you were still glad to have the option. You decided then and there that you were done with Edmund deciding things for you.

You found him in the kitchen, drinking a beer and laughing with some of his football mates.

"Edmund!" His head turns to you and he grins. "Stop fucking with me!" You somehow have the courage to get all up in his face. His stupid, Goddamn handsome face. "Stop telling any guy I see to stop talking to me. It's my fucking life. Stay out of it."

Edmund licks his lips and his gaze rakes down your body, making you very aware of the fact you are in lingerie in front of your roommate.

"Whatever you say, darling." His friends laugh and you leave before Edmund can see your face heat up. You find Alyssa dancing in the other room and pull her aside.

"I'm ready to leave whenever you are. I can't be around him right now." She nods frantically.

"Omg. Ok. Yeah, let's go!"

The two of you leave the party and begin the, thankfully short, walk to Alyssa's place.

"Do you wanna stay the night?" You thought about what would happen if you went home, would Edmund be home tonight? Would he not? You remember the blonde from earlier.

"No, I'll get an Uber home. I don't think he's going to be home anytime soon and I'd like to sleep in my own bed." Alyssa nods and the two of you talk until your Uber arrives.

"Text me when you get home." You nod and hug her.

"I'm sorry for making you leave early."

"No! If one of us wants to leave, we leave. That's the rule." She ushers you out of her door. "Sleep well!" A grin appears on her face. "With visions of Edmund dancing in your head!"

"Fuck off!" You glare before getting into the car.

As you expect, Edmund is not at the apartment when you get back and you are able to go to your room without him and blondie interfering. A small bubbling of jealousy and anger blooms in your gut when you think about what he is probably doing right now. With her. Shaking it off, you brush your teeth and slip into bed before falling asleep.

...

You wake up the next morning with a splitting headache. Groaning as you roll out of bed, you close your blinds to make your room dimmer. As you go upstairs you listen for any movement in Edmund's room, praying he isn't home yet. You breathe a sigh of relief when you're greeted with silence on the other side.

As you walk up the stairs, you halt in your tracks as you see him sitting on the couch. Clad in grey sweats and nothing else, he makes your heart flutter, even though you are pissed at him. You don't engage with him at all, avoiding his gaze as you walk to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water.

While opening the bottle of Advil you hear Edmund move from the couch. You take the meds and open the dishwasher to put your glass inside. When you stand, Edmund is behind you, his hands set on the counter, effectively caging you in. Your breath catches in your throat.

"So, is this how you imagined it?" His voice is right next to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Me fucking you in the kitchen?" Your eyes widen in shock. His lips graze your neck as he murmurs... "Answer me." Your words are stuck in your throat, thoughts going wild in your head.

Had he heard you and Alyssa last night?

You are brought out of your thoughts when Edmund dips his head further down and kisses where your neck meets your shoulder. "C'mon hun, let me make make you feel good." His lips travel up to your throat and you melt back into his body. He whispers in your ear, "Please?"

His hands leave the counter to rest on your waist, his fingers just slightly touching your bare skin where your shirt had been riding up moments before.

"Don't make me beg, love." He turns you around, bringing his body closer to you. You don't reply, too flustered with his actions to say anything. He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Ok, fine. I'll beg." He grins.

Edmund's hands reach down to pick you up, setting you on the counter. He steps in between your legs, setting his hands on your thighs while his thumbs draw circles on your bare skin.

"Do you know how many times I've thought about surprising you in the shower? Just so I could see you naked?" His gaze is still trained on your eyes. "Do you know how many times I've heard you touching yourself in your room? Wishing it was me who was making you feel that way?" He looks down at your lips and then back up to your eyes. "Do you know how many times I've thought about this moment? Last night? After I saw you dancing with Sam in that outfit... You looked stunning, my love." He moves to be right above your face, his lips so close they could touch yours. "So many Goddamn times, baby. So please," He pouts the slightest bit. "Let me make you feel good."

Kiss me.

As if he could read your mind, he does. Your hands fly to his hair and pull him into you even more, his lower half fully against you.

And oh.

Oh.

You pull away, looking down at his hips with wide eyes. Edmund laughs.

"Darling this is what you do to me. Every." He kisses your shoulder. "Bloody." Your neck. "Day." Your jaw. He pulls away so you are able to see him. His perfect hair, and his perfect smile, and his perfect freckles.

And the fucking devil in his eyes.

"So are you going to let me act on your fantasies? Or are we just going to go back to you thinking about me when you touch yourself at night and me pretending not to get off on it?" You lean forward to kiss him again and he leans back, running his tongue over his lips. "Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N?" A deep blush blooms on your cheeks.

"Yes." It's barely above a whisper but it's audible. When he hears your response, he smiles again.

"Fucking finally."

His lips return to yours and his grip on your hips tightens as he pulls you against him again. You tighten your thighs around him, reveling in the taste of his lips.

"Oh my God." He murmurs against your lips. Your hands travel down his neck and to his bare shoulders and your nails dig into his skin just a bit, making him hiss in sweet pain.

"Fuck." His hands start to pull at your shorts. "Off. Now." You lift yourself up so he can pull them down, along with your underwear. He groans as he looks down. "Bloody hell." One of his hands wipes over his face, taking you in. His bottom lip pulls in between his teeth as he looks into your eyes again. "Darling, I'd absolutely love to taste you but I'm afraid I'll explode if I don't fuck you soon." His fingers find his waistband and he pauses at your wide eyes. "Do you want to do it?"

Holy Hell you can feel the effects of his words on the surface below you. He gently grabs your hands, setting them on his hips. "Go ahead." You do as your told and push the fabric down his thighs. You look away, not quite ready to take witness to your roommates dick.

"I need you to say it one more time. Do you want this?" You look into his eyes.

"Yes." He smiles, his lips on yours and brings himself to your core.

"Take a deep breath, my love." When you do, Edmund pushes into you. The pain takes you by surprise and you let out a grunt of pain. He catches your lips with his and draws patterns on your skin with his free hand. Your nails dig into his back once again and he groans into your mouth when he bottoms out. "If you keep doing that I'm not going to last long." He begins moving very slowly. The pain slowly becomes pleasure. "I wanna make this good for you."

You drop your head to his shoulder.

"Oh my god, Ed it's-." His mouth is close to your ear making you hear all of the sounds he's making. "Fuck!"

"Holy shit."

"Ed-" You gasp, hands on his shoulders, as he stops moving.

"Please don't make me stop. I've been wanting this for so long." He lays his forehead on your shoulder and you can tell it's taking every ounce of his self-control not to move.

"No- I was just gonna ask if..." You pause to catch your breath. "if you could go faster.

"Jesus. You're perfect." His breath on your skin makes you flush again and then, the wonderful sensation you had felt moments before begins again.

"You're doing so well, love. So well."

Edmund begins to pick up his pace and you whine into his neck.

"Oh-" Edmund's fingers are suddenly on your clit, forcing your thighs to tighten around his. Your hips rock into his as you feel yourself begin to near your high. With his fingers on your clit, his bruising grip on your thighs, and his fucking dick inside of you, it takes only a few more seconds before you are releasing around him. Edmund moans after feeling you squeeze around him and it's the sexiest thing you've ever heard.

"You're so fucking perfect."

He releases soon after and he catches his breath.

He pulls away, looking at your face.

"Are you ok?" You smile.

Despite his asshole actions of the past 24 hours, Edmund does truly care about you. He's always taken care of you. He always made sure you had dinner, would always cover you with a blanket if you had fallen asleep upstairs, always made you tea and soup when you were sick.

"I'm perfectly fine." You grin at him.

You remember all of his comments to you, all of the pet-names he's called you.

"Ed, how long? How long have you wanted this?" He grins back at you.

"My love it was you the moment Lucy brought you home to visit during Christmas."

"Edmund that was three years ago!" His smile grows.

He dips down to kiss you.

"I'm a patient man."

Wait i heart them

I hope that was enjoyable l o l.

#narnia #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund x reader #king edmund the just #edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie x reader smut #narnia smut #tvotdt #tvdt

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sailor-aviator · 8 months

Text

Singing in the Sanctuary: Prologue

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw is a simple man. Well, as simple as one can be while living a life of crime. The notorious outlaw has never been interested in settling down and having a family, but will that all change when he meets a shy, new teacher who just moved into town?

Warnings: Pressure from parents, use of y/n, other than that I don't think there are any, really.

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: I am equally excited to be writing this one as I am my Hangman series. I think y'all will like this one too. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated. You can find this and my other works on AO3 under sailor_aviator. 18+ only!!!

Series Masterlist || DGU Masterlist || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Tag List

Women weren’t meant to have careers. Woman were meant to cook, clean, have babies, and make sure their husbands were taken care of. Then you became an old woman and one day you’d be buried next to said husband. At least, that’s what your parents had always told you. When they found out that you were pursuing a career as a teacher, they tried everything in their power to convince you otherwise.

“It’s just not proper for a young lady of your background to have a career, y/n” said your mother.

“I’ve had suitors asking for you hand for years now. Why don’t you get married and then think about continuing your education?” your father had coaxed. You couldn’t be swayed, however.

It had been your dream from a young age to become a teacher. You had always admired the ones you had growing up, and learning had always come easy to you. You wanted others to experience the joys of learning like you had, and that’s how you found yourself ignoring your parents’ wishes.

It had certainly been hard work, but it was work you were proud of. When you graduated, your parents had been more relieved than proud.

“Surely you’ll find a husband now, darling,” your father had said hopefully. Your mother nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh, sweetheart! My friends have the most dashing sons who would just love-”

You let out a heavy sigh. “Mama, Papa, please-”

“We just want what’s best for you,” your father said hurriedly. You grimaced, but in the end you had allowed your mother to set up several luncheons with your would-be suitors. They hadn’t been horrible. No, in another life, perhaps you would have even been excited at the idea of marrying one of them. Settling down in a spacious, white house with blue shutters. A white picket fence encompassing the yard, and little ones running around joyfully while your husband and you looked on. And it’s not like that wasn’t your dream. No, in fact, you wanted all of that. But your dream also included teaching.

It was hard finding a job in your hometown in Missouri. And that’s why you had jumped at the chance to move west. You hadn’t told your parents about the opportunity, and for good reason. They would have stopped at nothing to keep you from going. You had stumbled upon this chance of fate when you had stopped by the general store to by ingredients for supper that evening.

“Maverick’s not a city, mind you,” said the old man as he dropped the box of fresh produce onto the counter by the clerk. “But it’s got character, and it’s growin’ every day! The mayor is even talkin’ bout buildin’ a school here soon. Told me to spread the word that we’re lookin’ for a new teacher.”

“Excuse me,” you had interrupted. Both men turned to look at you. “Could you tell me more about this job?”

“Well, it’s a real good opportunity, now, miss,” grinned the old man. “The town ain’t that old, and like I said, it’s gettin’ bigger every day. The townsfolk is all friendly and the mayor is offerin’ up a fair wage.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “And where is this town? Is it far?”

“It’s located out in the territory they’re callin’ New Mexico. It’s ‘bout a week’s ride from here to there.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, feeling giddy at the thought of trekking west.

“How long will you be in town, sir?” you ask. The man scratches his chin thoughtfully before leveling you with a look.

“I’ll tell you what,” he began, “I’ll stick around for another day. If you decide you wanna catch a ride with me back to Maverick, you jus’ meet me by the gate leadin’ outta town ‘round noon. How’s that?”

You grinned. “Thank you, sir.”

You had packed your bags quickly, waiting until both of your parents had left the house the following day. You wrote a note explaining why you were leaving and where you were going, and then gave one last look at the house you’d called home your entire life. Taking a steadying breath, you made your way down to the gate the man had mentioned.

“Good timin’!” he hollered upon seeing you. “Was jus’ about to head on out.”

“Thank you for waiting!” you called breathlessly, setting your bags on the back of the cart and rounding to the front. The man offered you a hand as you clambered up onto the seat, and once he had made himself comfortable, the two of you were on your way.

The days passed quickly as you and the man, Hondo you would come to find out is his name, made your way to your new beginning. The heat became more intense the further south you traveled, and luscious green gave way to arid desert. On your second day of being in the desert, you saw the outlines of a town in the distance.

“There she is!” grinned Hondo. “Ol’ Maverick herself!”

“How exciting!” you smiled. About a half hour later, the two of you were riding along the streets of said town. People bustled up and down the streets and went about their business as usual. Joel stopped the cart just outside of a large, wooden building.

“This here is town hall,” he said. “I’ll getcha in to see Maverick, and he’ll getcha situated.”

Your brows furrowed. “Maverick?”

“Pete Mitchell is his name, but most folks ‘round here just call him Maverick or Mav. He founded the town, and it’s named after him.”

“I see,” you breathed, taking Hondo’s hand as he helped you down onto the ground. He walked with you up the steps and through the door of town hall.

“Hondo!” cried a man as you both entered. The man was handsome with dark hair that greyed around his temples. His skin was golden from what you could only assume was hours spent in the desert sun, and his blue eyes sparkled with joy at the sight of your companion.

“Maverick,” smiled Hondo. The man, Maverick, stopped before you two and his eyes glanced over you.

“And who is this here with you?”

“Mav,” started Hondo, stepping back to gesture at you, “allow me to introduce Miss y/n. She’s here to be our town’s new teacher.”

“Excellent!” grinned Maverick, taking your hand and giving it a firm shake. “You’re really helping us out here. I can’t thank you enough.”

“It’s my pleasure,” you smiled. “Thank you for giving me this opportunity.”

“Nonsense! Now, I’m assuming you don’t have a place to stay at the moment?”

“No,” you blushed, looking down sheepishly. “I’m embarrassed to admit that I didn’t think that far ahead.”

Maverick beamed. “Well, until we can get the school and a house for you built, you’ll just have to stay with me and my wife, Penny.”

“Oh, Mr. Mitchell, I couldn’t!” You exclaimed. Maverick raises a hand to stop you.

“Please, call me Maverick or Mav. And I insist. It’s the least we can offer considering you came all this way.”

You smiled gratefully. “I appreciate that, Maverick. In the meantime, where am I to teach the children?”

“For now, why don’t you teach our little rascals in the sanctuary of the church? I’m sure the Reverend won’t mind.”

“That sounds lovely,” you gushed. You couldn’t wait for the start of your new life.

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fieldofdaisiies · 8 months

Text

Cauldron Boil Me

ship: Sirius Black x Reader type: angst word count: 2,8k warnings: none request: @dreamingofmarauders Don't really have a concrete idea but perhaps a Slytherin reader, where she puts up a very rude and cold front, and Sirius is always picking fights with her. One day, he pulls a prank on her, but she was already stressed since she would get branded as a Death Eater when she would go home for the holidays, and she just snaps and cries, unintentionally blurting out what she is going through. Sirius feels bad and just please give it a happy ending! (Only if you want to write the request though)

"Filthy little mudblood."

You send your friend a glower, grinding your teeth so hard, your jaw starts to ache.

It is already bad enough that you and Sirius Black are potions partners, you don’t need your house mate, Evan Rosier, and childhood best friend to insult young Hufflepuffs on your way to the potions room.

Evan either ignores your glower, or he really did not notice, but he just keeps on walking, rather casually strolling through the corridors of Hogwarts. "Are we going to Hogsmead this weekend?" Sofie pops up out of nowhere, she is your best friend, shares a dorm room with you, and you every little secret. So, she technically also knows how you feel about Sirius and what might happen in the summer holidays, but these are all problems for future you, not something you want to be thinking about now.

"I think—"

"It is a great idea. We could go to the Three Broomsticks?" It is Mulciber who makes the suggestion and is immediately supported by Bertram Aubrey and Alecto Carrow.

You only shrug, not really in the mood to go to Hogsmead, knowing how dangerous it could be, and all in all you are not really motivated to do things these days. But you also don't want to let down your friends, and so you somehow have to agree.

"Yeah, why not," you say after Sofie nudges you with her elbow.

"I will be fun," she hums, smiling at you from the side. She wants to distract you, hoping to bring the smile back onto your face these dark times have stolen from you.

You try hard to avoid the groan from bursting out of you when you walk into the Potions classroom and the first thing you see is Sirius Black, the brightest star in the sky and the thickest idiot Hogwarts has ever seen. He is balancing his chair, leaned backwards, his arms stretched wide, holding onto the desk and the back of your chair.

"Good morning, my favourite little snake." Sirius grins, from one ear to the other. But it is not the sort of kind grin, it is wicked, almost a little gleeful and you already feel like slapping him. But obviously you don't do it, you are not a violent person.

You simply ignore him, grab the back of your chair, careful not to touch him and pull it backwards.

"Grumpy this morning?" he comments, and you decide to ignore him again.

"Got up on the wrong foot this morning? What is the problem? You always have a lovely comeback—"

"You are the problem." You turn to him, frowning. "And your face is."

"Because I look so incredibly dashing and stunning?" He wiggles his brows.

"Because you are even uglier than the large squid in the Black Lake."

Sirius dramatically folds a hand over his heat and gasps. "Ouch, that hurt."

"Good if your ego is a little harmed, it got too big for your body anyway." You sneer, and then turn away from him, focussing back on the front of the glass where now your teacher, professor Broomscattle, who already prepares everything for the lesson ahead.

When everyone calms down, and also your anger about Mr Black settles, you relax back in your chair and turn your whole focus onto your Potions teacher.

"Good morning, class, today you and your partners will be brewing a wonderful potion."

He opens his book, closes it, opens it again and flicks through the pages, a testament to his already starting forgetfulness and confusion. "Today we will be working on the Fire Protection Potion, also known as the…"

You rhand shoots into the air and when the professor calls your name you answer immediately. "Ice Potion."

"Amazing, five points to Slytherin."

You smile happily, at least something that is going well. But the smile immediately vanishes from your face again.

"Swot," Sirius comments and you kick your leg out, hoping to hit is shin. When he yelps, you grin in triumph.

"At least I am not as thick as a brick."

Sirius throws you a fake grin, but you are both ripped out of your bickering when the professor loudly announces that you should start brewing now. And so, cauldrons start to bubble, mist rises from the bubbling liquids and shadows are casted upon the castle's walls.

"You need to slice the brusting mushrooms, Sirius, not crunch them," you retort, and instead of arguing back he really follows your orders, but chuckles. "Alright, captain, so bossy," he mumbles under his breath, but once again you decide to ignore him.

Just like the cauldron in front of you does, so does Sirius make your blood boil. He enrages you, his sheer presence does. And your tiny little crush on him, which some happened totally on accident and without you being fond of it, does not make it any better.

"Clockwise. You need to stir clockwise, smartass." Sirius leans over you and the cauldron, his brow raised.

"Now who is the swot."

"Still the teacher's pet who earned herself house points moments ago."

"I dislike you so much," you seethe, stirring the liquid with more fore, it nearly swaps over the edges.

Sirius grins and small laugh escapes him. And despite him looking hella amused, some unreadable emotion that almost edges onto hurt passes over his face.

Next up, after the liquid turned blue, you add salamander blood and this time stir it anti-clockwise. "Anti-clockwise now," you tell Sirius, holding his gaze. "So, our smartass is happy." Your voice drips with sarcasm.

"Very happy, brewing potions with the person who loathes me the most in all of Hogwarts."

"That is not true!" you snap and want to cover your quick mouth with your hand. It is really not true, but…ugh, you curse yourself and quickly say, "I am sure there are many more who hate you even more than I do."

"Snivellus?"

"Severus!" Your voice drips with anger…you don't like Snape that much, but you hate that everyone is always mocking him, and bullying him. He does not deserve it, not at all.

Sirius coos, "Aww, are you two dating. Are you sneaking away to kiss secretly? The slimy git and his little snake."

You throw your head back and groan. "Shut up, Sirius, honestly. Or I'll hex you."

The potion in front of you has turned green by then which tells you it is time to at the crushed Wartcap powder and once again stir it clockwise until it turns red.

The air between you, enhanced by the high humidity and scent of potions, is thick. You are both walking on thin ice, and yet Sirius once again wears his usual mischievous grin. Stupid, silly Sirius Black grin…

"Y/l/N, remind me again why I got stuck with you as a partner. Honestly, I would rather brew with a three-headed dog."

"First and last time that I will agree with you, Black." You narrow your eyes at him, watching how his eyes sparkle at what you said. "But I think you are stuck with me, because it might be your one chance to pass this school year, we all know that in your brain there is not much except for hot air."

Sirius chuckles under his breath. "Well, Y/N, you might discover I'm a natural at this. I am smart, brilliant, intelligent, absolutely handsome looking. I don't need you to help me get good grades, but maybe you need my help?"

"You forgot one thing about yourself." You sneer. "You are also incredibly…insufferable."

In all honesty, you just want to be left alone. Your whole life is already so much to deal with, you don't want to spend your lessons bantering with Sirius. You don't want to think about him at all. You have a crush on him yes, but you are also very aware that nothing will ever happen between the two of you. It is not possible, he is all good and anti-Death Eaters, anti-Slytherin, despite his little brother being in the house. But you are…you are also anti-Death Eaters, anti-Voldemort, anti-war, but you can't escape your family's beliefs. It is not so easy for you. You are trapped and you have no choice. It hurts.

Despite the relentless banter with him, you manage to add all the ingredients together, though with a great deal of unnecessary shoving and bickering. The cauldron bubbles and releases a puff of smoke, making both of you cough.

"Well, done, you are getting us both in detention," Sirius grumbles, acting like it is your fault that the cauldron or potion just did that. You frown, then throw him a glower. "You don't have to talk, you are practically a walking detention. Wouldn't be anything new for you," you retort, your irritation evident in your voice.

You keep on mixing and brewing, silence stretching out between you.

Just as the tension between you and Sirius seems to be easing, he can't resist one last opportunity to stir the pot — or cauldron…

You both stand there, looking at your potion, he slyly waves his wand below the desk and mutters a spell under his breath. Suddenly, the potion changes colour, and bubbles vividly, frothing splashing and flowing over the edges and all over you. You cloak is stained in more than one colour, the liquid slowly trickling down.

Your jaw drops in disbelief, and you can feel your cheeks heat up with anger. "Sirius Black, what have you done?" you demand, voice tinged with fury.

Sirius bursts into laughter, his shoulders shaking. He did not expect the potion to blow up like this, but…

"Relax, Y/N, it's just a bit of fun. You look amazing by the way!"

You glare at him, your fists clenched at your sides. "Fun? This is an important assignment!"

Irritation burns through your veins and you feel how tears start to burn behind your eyes.

You only have school, you only have school were your work is appreciated, where you are seen. And now Sirius messed everything up.

"Relax, it's just fun." He grins but it vanishes immediately when he sees the hurt in your eyes.

"No, it is not. Not always is everything fun!"

You push off the desk, turn and sprint away, desperately wanting to get away so no one can see the tears now flowing out of your eyes.

It was just a silly prank…but it is too much. Everything is too much and this was now the straw that breaks the camel's back.

Unbeknownst to you, Sirius is following after you, not minding at all that your Potions professor is shouting after you, telling you to come back. You don't hear it over the blood rushing in your ears, Sirius simply does not care — there are more important things to deal with now.

Tears of frustration and anger blur your vision, as you try to escape from…everything.

You run through the corridors, not really sure where you're going. The weight of everything—Voldemort's looming threat, the pressure of being in Slytherin during these turbulent times, your parents and the whole situation at home and now this stupid, this absolutely idiotic, prank—feels like everything is going to crush you. You find an empty classroom and slump down in a chair, burying your face in your hands, sobbing.

You're crying, and you can't make it stop. It's all just too much, and you feel utterly alone. You don't even realise how much time has passed when you hear the door creak open. Startled, and with read puffy eyes and ragged breaths leaving you, you look up and find Sirius Black standing in the door frame.

"Hey," he says softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

"Hey?!" you blurt out and wipe away some burning tears with the back of your hand.

He startles, taken aback by your sharp tone. His expression — actually his whole demeanour crumbles— and he takes more steps towards you.

"Leave! What do you even want here?" you mutter, your voice cracking.

Sirius takes a step closer, his expression serious. "I didn't mean for it to go this far. I didn't want to upset you like this. I did not think you would react in this way, it was a silly prank."

You can't help but feel a bit surprised by his sincerity. A lot actually. This is not like him. You've never seen him like that ever before.

You expected him to make fun of you or taunt you further. Instead, he seems genuinely apologetic…

You are torn…should you tell him why you reacted like that? Curse him? Shout at him? Make him leave?

You don't know and you struggle a lot. You wipe away more tears and sniff.

And decide to finally open up a little. You have to tell someone at some point, why not him? Well, there are many reasons for why not him, but the situation is quite fortunate. And he comes from a pure blood family but is against blood purity, he might understand better than some others.

"It's not just about the prank, Sirius. It's everything. The current situation, Voldemort, the Death Eaters, my parents… It's all so overwhelming, and I don't know how to handle it."

Sirius pulls out the chair next to you and takes a seat, his gaze fixed on yours. "I get it," he says quietly. "It's scary. It's all too much for anyone at this moment I think. But you don't have to do it alone."

You look at him, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity, for the normal taunting and teasing glimmer in them. But all you find is warmth and understanding, empathy. It's a side of Sirius you've rarely seen — never actually.

"I just... I don't know who to trust anymore," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Everyone is acting suspicious…Everyone starts to hide things. I don't feel happy anywhere anymore. Except for school and then in school…this stupid prank."

Sirius reaches out and gently places a hand on yours. "I am so sorry," he says, his voice soft but resolute. "This was so idiotic."§

You swallow, the warmth of his palm somehow so soothing and lovely.

Sirius breathes out a long exhale, and throws his head back, dark curls shifting with the movement. "Good Godrick, I care about you. I care about what happens to you. I know it might not seem like it, has never seemed like it, but I really do."

Tears dwell in your eyes again, but this time, they're not tears of sadness. Somehow they are tears of gratitude. For his kind words and the showing you a side of him, he never lets anyone see. You never expected this side of Sirius Black, and it's both surprising and comforting.

"Maybe I also don't hate you as much as it might seem." You meet his gaze again, locking.

"You might think I am crazy about what I will say next…" His thumb strokes over the back of your hand, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I like you, you know," Sirius says, his voice almost a whisper. "I mean, I really like you. More than just a friend."

Your heart skips a beat, and you can feel your cheeks flush. Your eyes widen in surprise. "You do?"

Sirius nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I do. And I know it's a crazy time to say it, but I couldn't keep it to myself anymore. You know, I am a little impulsive, sorry if that was too straightforward."

You can't help but smile back at him, despite your tears. In this moment, the world outside seems to fade away, and it's just the two of you in that empty classroom.

"This might sound even more crazy, but I like you too, Sirius," you admit, your voice filled with honesty. "More than just a friend. Except for the one moment earlier, I really despised you then."

He grins, and without warning, he pulls you into a warm, comforting hug. You bury your face in his chest, feeling safe and cared for in his arms. It's a strange and unexpected turn of events, but maybe, just maybe, there's a glimmer of hope in the darkest of times.

"I am still sorry, and I promise to never ever do something like that again." His hand strokes over your back and you find yourself nodding against his chest.

"Alright," you whisper, a single tear sliding down your cheek. "Alright. Apology accepted."

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #marauders #marauders era #sirius being sirius #sirius orion black

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radioisntdead · 2 months

Note

(To maybe save our hearts from the angst, how about a cuter idea? could be any gender really and be seen as platonic or not just very vague fluffy fun)

A reader who is similar age to Susan and is the opposite type of old person, a gentle Grandparent who has old person candies at all times. Most importantly however is the only one who can calm Susan's feral chihuahua energy, only when they need to of course.

They play cribbage on weekends, and definitely both chat about the youngins- maybe playfully feud on which is better Knit or Crochet

Good evening my dear! This is a little shorter then I wanted but I did write it in a hair salon, where at the time of posting I'm still in.

Bitter and sweet

Warnings!!!

Cannibalism, Reader is GN but gives off old lady grandma vibes, this is written in little drabbles mainly because I wrote them in an hair salon

Susan had a neighbor, she lived to the left of her house, while Susan's house was more stale and strict appearing her neighbor's was more soft colors, with gnomes outside and a lovely garden filled with all types of hell's flora,

You'd think the two would be at odds but they got along well, going out for tea each day, on weekends they'd go to bingo or play a game of cribbage, although they did get into tiffs about what was better between crochet and knitting, like how crochet is easier for some to pick up with the sole hook, or how knitting uses less yarn then crochet, They were dear friends, and this is some tidbits with them.

You and Susan had opposing aesthetics but that didn't stop the two of you from matching outfits in some way or another, she wore her usual pinkish dress? You were two feet away from her in more brighter attire.

"Kids these days are getting more and more foolish each day, fucking crying in the middle of the streets!"

Susan said, sat on a bench looking across the street at some poor cannibal gal sobbing as her dearest assumingly ended things

When you didn't respond she looked over at you only to see that you were gone,

"Where the hell- [Name]!"

You had dashed over to the gal, swatting at her former lover with your handfan, scolding him for breaking things off in the middle of the streets inside of somewhere private or inside a restaurant as the girl sobbed into your arms,

"Shh, it's alright you deserve better, someone with manners!"

You said patting her back, glaring at the unmannered former lover while Susan groaned from her seat, you just had to butt into other people's business didn't you!

Like she didn't do the same at times.

......

"You uncultured, red-40 looking, bad dental hygiene, modern technology radio man!"

Susan raised her cane to the Radio Deer man, you had just entered Rosie's Emporium for a snack,

"Susan! No! That is terribly rude!"

You shouted dashing over quickly before Susan could do anything, pushing down her cane, while apologizing,

"My apologies! I'll escort her out, here buy yourself something tasty"

You said taking the radio demons hand and placing some money and a few pieces of candy into it before linking an arm with Susan and taking her outside while scolding her as she grumbled, leaving the Radio demon lowkey stunned and missing his mother.

You were how he imagined she would've been if she lived to be elderly.

.....

"For fuck's sake! Why are you in my house?"

Susan shouted as she walked into her kitchen only to see you adorned in an old lady apron chopping away at some vegetables while some type of meat simmered on the stove,

"Making us lunch obviously! I have news about that lovely gal we met on the street a few months ago! She's going steady with my nephew, the one with the good job not the one that's married, and I must tell you what her scandalous ex lover had to say-"

You rambled on, mixing up slang from different decades Susan could care less about the gal who was sobbing on the streets but you seemed to hellbent on telling her about the 'tea' as you called it.

.....

"Susie, let's listen to what the princess has to say before booing her off the stage, this is why she called you an old bitch''

You said linking an arm with Susan before shouting over at Charlie as Rosie pulled her aside,

"My apologies!"

You chased down Charlie at a later date to give her some candies for her troubles with Susan,

You paid visits to the hotel after that, bringing treats for the residents.

....

"Knitting is superior, it uses less yarn then your hook, knitting takes far more skill and that little crochet thing seems easier.''

Susan said knitting a scarf as you sat across from her, crocheting a net.

"Susie, you are my dearest friend and I love you, But I can and will surplex you into a wall if you say that again."

Hearing that while you wore the sweetest smile would strike fear into the average sinner.

......

"Are we thinking barbecue? Grilled? Perhaps baked? Oo I recently picked up some new seasonings we could try!"

You shouted over to Susan as you threw a net at an exorcist pulling them down and stabbing them with an angelic weapon before discarding them to the side to harvest their wings later,

"I don't give a donkeys ass as long as they taste good!"

.....

"Susie?"

"Hm?"

"I'm dying again."

"Don't be dramatic!''

She smacked you gently on the head with her cane as you broke out in laughter, angel wing in your hand and gold around your mouth.

Good evening folks! I am actively dangling Susan around like a keychain, I should invest in a Susan keychain, are Susan keychains a thing???

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #susan & reader #hazbin hotel susan #hazbin susan #hazbin hotel

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viiiiiiiiiin · 3 months

Note

JAJSJSJDJSD HELL YEAH

Sanji with bff reader who's trying to be his wingman and failing pls (either because sanji is really bad at picking up ladies or the reader is horrendous at wingmanning, heck maybe even both, you decide)

Next Time: Sanji and Wingman Reader

Includes: Sanji , Male Reader , Strawhats

A / N: STOP I LOVE THIS. LOSERS BEING BESTIES FR !!! I hope u don't mind that I chose male reader. I don't write much of them and I want a variety :) enjoy ! Sorry it's short @@

"Cmon Sanji ! You got this ! Do what we rehearsed !" You gave him a thumbs up and a toothy grin. The blonde haired gentleman nodded in return as you took your place behind the door.

Another failed attempt , you assumed by the way his head was hung downwards. You walked over to him and patted his back gently. "It's okay , Ji. You'll get 'er next time !" You laughed and threw your arm around his muscular shoulder.

"Maybe I should try a different pickup line. What do ya got , Reader ?" He asked , grabbing a notepad from seemingly nowhere.

"Ooh ! Ooh ! How about this ! Pretend to spill a drink and be like 'I tripped over my feelings for you . . .' That's gotta win Nami over for sure !" You spun around and grabbed out a poster board.

"What about something about tangerines ? 'You heart is as sweet and sour as a Tangerine' as you kiss her hand. That's gotta make her swoon !" The fact that both of you were so bad at picking up women honestly made the crew feel a bit bad. Why Sanji listened to your advice , the world will never know.

"How about for Robin - Chwan !" He said , spinning as he spoke of the dark haired diva. You placed a finger to your chin , deep in thought. Maybe a dark pun ? Maybe a history pun ? Before you could think , you spoke.

"Ooh ! How about 'you stole my heart like Doflamingo stole Dressrosa . . .' Thats gotta woo her !" You jumped up and down and smiled widely. "What if I gave her something as I said that ?? Or you could help me trip for the pick up line with Nami - Swan !" Sanji rambled as he swirled around , a love tornado of lust was what he was.

"Ooh ! Great idea !! You're so smart !!" Sanji closed his notepad and you both walked over to the ginger. She raised an eyebrow and you pushed Sanji , fake acting like you did it by accident. "Oh no ! I'm sooo sorry Sanji !" You snickered , watching as he fell to his strong knees.

"I tripped over my love for you , mademoiselle . . ~" He spoke smoothly , a perverted grin on his pale face. Nami picked up the book she was reading and smacked both of you in the head.

"That one sucked ! At least be mote creative !" With that , she stomped away and left the both of you with massive bumps on your heads. You both groaned and sat up.

"Fuck , another failure. I'm sorry , Ji. I'll figure somethin' out." You scratched your aching head snd looked sadly at the devastated cook. "Maybe you just haven't met the right girl ! Try flirting when we get to the next island !"

Your suggestion didn't go unheard. As you approached an island to restock supplies , you snd Sanji ran out to the nearest bar. "Try buying her a drink and saying she's as sweet as it ! Or I could spill it on you and you could say your love for her spilled over you !" You suggested as the both of you dashed to the nearest bar.

"Yeahh !! I got this !!"

He does not got it. You spilled the drink and it got ALL over his slacks and the ground. You both ended up being kicked out for causing a disturbance and made all the women laugh at yalls failed attempt at seducing a possible suitor.

You both walked out , dejected at the last failed attempt. You sighed dramatically and fell to the ground. "I'm sorry , Ji ! Next time !"

Next time. How many more 'next time's can he take ? You both were seemingly made to be best friends. One horrendous at flirting and the other horrendous at wingmanning. Next time , next time , next time. Would there be a next time ?

#one piece #op #reader insert #x reader #one piece x you #fluff #vixenwrites #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #sanji #one piece sanji #one piece x male reader #male reader #male y/n #one piece strawhats #straw hat pirates #best friends #vixens100followersspecial

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 4 months

Text

Sickles, Snowflakes, & Sharks

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x Reader

Description: When you find yourself in the hospital fretting over a friend, the last thing you expect is a chance at love. One handsome doctor, some shitty hospital coffee, sickles, snowflakes, and a shark is apparently all you need.

Warnings: Hospitals, Doctors, Mentioned injury to the arm, Mentions of blood

Word Count: 3712

Author Note: Hiya everyone! This is from a request submitted by @emma8895eb. They sent in a gorgeous picture set of Lewis Pullman from Lessons in Chemistry and requested an AU of Bob being a doctor. The gifs of the scene were indeed soft and fluffy, so of course, I had to write a soft and fluffy little fic to accompany them!

Thanks to @horseshoegirl for beta-reading this fic for me!

My Masterlist

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

You haven’t been in a hospital since you were very young. So, it figures your return is due to the fact one of your friends decided to be completely idiotic and stupid in the middle of the night. Who in the world thought it was a good idea to drink in the middle of a snowstorm in a barn?

It's a rhetorical question, of course. Only your friends, your roommates, would choose to do that. As if that wasn't stupid enough, they also decided to jump from the hayloft into the colossal pile of fragrant hay. One of them, Jake, because of course it was him, ended up impaling himself on a still sharp sickle. You were the only sober member of the party, so the consequences had been up to you to handle.

At least you managed to keep him from yanking the blade out of his forearm. You'd run out to the main house in the snow, swathed his arm in towels, and loaded him into your truck. The next step involved booking it to the hospital, of course, but that is easier said than done when it feels like an entire glacier was raining down over your head. The temperature on the dash was edging towards -15°F, and even with the heat blasting, you could hear Jake’s teeth chatter. Something told you he's going into shock. e His eyes were fever-bright, and he hadn't spoken in nearly twenty minutes. If you knew anything about Jake Seresin, the man couldn't shut up if he tried.

So your face is pinched, and it feels like you've got an elephant sitting on your chest when you roar into the Emergency Room drop-off loop with a squeal of brakes and rocket yourself out of the vehicle. You slam the driver's door shut and call for a couple of the nurses in scrubs nearby to help you get Jake out of the truck. Unsurprisingly, maneuvering Jake out of his seat, all six feet of him, is far harder than you think. Also unsurprising is how Jake is laid on a gurney and taken straight away to get some painkillers and X-rays done. Shortly after, while you're pacing the hallway outside the waiting room, a very nice ER Doctor comes out to tell you Jake needs surgery and is being carted away to the OR at that very moment. You can't help but feel a little like a marionette with its strings cut at the news.

When you slump, finally, into a hard-backed chair outside of a surgical suite, you're so tired you could cry. With adrenaline coursing through your system, your hands shake, and you're shivering, too. Of course, given your panic, you also completely forgot to grab a coat or gloves. So you’re sitting in the hospital with snow melting into your hair and soaking into the hem of your jeans. Your feet feel like ice, and you’re so worried you can’t sit still.

“Hey.”

“Hey!”

You blink, and all of a sudden, someone is crouching in front of you. He’s wearing scrubs and a white doctor’s coat. There are wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, and his blue eyes seem to twinkle in the sterile lights.

“Are you okay?” His voice is soft but warm.

When you look at your shaking hands, they are coated in rust, the color staining your skin in streaks.

“I, I don’t know.” Your voice sounds strangled as you choke the words out.

“Do you want to get cleaned up a little?” You nod, a little jerky bobble of your head up and down. His hands are warm as they cover yours, stalling the shivers as they pull you up.

“Truth be told,” He ducks in closer, murmuring into your ear in a way that should not be as sexy as it is, “I'm not supposed to be doing this.”

“But,” His voice makes sparks light up in your chest as he leads you into an elevator and up two floors. He keeps his hand hovering at the small of your back, close enough that you can feel the heat of his skin through your thin t-shirt. “What are the rules for if you can't break them every once in a while?”

The door he opens leads you to a locker room. You’re tongue-tied standing in such close quarters with this beautiful stranger. He turns, and the look of concentration on his face as he tugs out a spare set of scrubs takes your breath away.

“If I didn't know any better, I'd think you made a habit of doing this to unsuspecting girls covered in blood.”

“I, uh… I don't.”

“So why me? You don't even know my name. Nor do I know yours, for that matter.”

“Oh!” His laugh feels like champagne bubbles bursting across your tongue. “I’m Bob. Bob Floyd, I'm a trauma surgeon here at the hospital.”

“Well, Dr. Floyd.” You smile at the slight blush on the apples of his cheeks and introduce yourself. “You seem awfully familiar with breaking the rules for a man of your stature.”

“A man of my stature?”

“Yeah, sweet and kind. Bespectacled.”

“Bespectacled?”

“Yeah.”

His eyes crinkle with the force of his laugh as he tips his head back. A curl hangs over his forehead, and if your hands weren’t covered in blood you’d push it off his forehead for him.

“C’mon, silly girl. Get cleaned up. I’d love to continue this conversation when you don’t look like Carrie.”

Is it wrong to lay the moves on the hot trauma surgeon when one of your friends is in surgery? Your conscious mind is telling you it’s probably not the most moral of things to do. But the other part of you, the part routinely indulging in romances and squealing at the thought of a meet-cute, is begging you to hold onto the opportunity with both hands. You'd truly be stupid not to, you rationalize as you soap up your skin using the bottle of ginger and orange soap Doctor Bob gave you. It smells amazingly, mouth-wateringly delicious, and a part of you wonders if it smells as good on his skin as it does on yours. But you derail the thought before it goes any further and step out of the shower, shivering a little in the cold hospital air.

Goosebumps rise on your arms as you pull on the scrubs before bunching up your soiled clothes. What’s the likelihood Bob’s still out there? He’s probably gotten a call or something and needs to prep for surgery, right? There are probably a million better things he could be doing. You should return to the surgical suites and see if you can coax some information about Jake from a nice-looking nurse.

When you peek around the door, you're surprised to find Dr. Floyd is still there, arms crossed against the broad expanse of his chest, blue eyes narrowed in thought. Your eyes widen, taking in just how handsome this man is. With long legs, made even longer by the slim-fitting scrubs, muscular arms, broad chest, and slim waist, it feels like you're on a roller coaster ride because a flirty stranger shouldn't be this alluring. Of course, your favorite part of him has to be his eyes, navy blue and mercurial, the color seeming to shift depending on his mood and the atmosphere around him. They sparkle in the sterile lights when you step through the door, absolutely dwarfed by the scrubs on your body.

“Thank you for this, truly.” The words trip off your tongue in a futile attempt to stop the awkwardly shy way you've been staring at him.

“I was happy to.” Your breath catches as he steps forward, handing you soft, dark fabric. “Wear this, you look cold.”

Looking at the fine hairs rising on your arms and how your skin textures from the drafty, antiseptic-smelling breeze, it’s an offer you’re only too glad to accept from this sweet doctor.

“Would you, um…” When he drags his fingers through his perfectly coiffed hair, dislodging a curl that falls across his brow, you itch to push it back into place. “Would you like to grab a cup of coffee with me? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m sure you’d rather check on your friend.”

He’s babbling, and you feel bad as you toe at the pristine tile, murmuring, “I should probably check on Jake.”

It’s his turn to toe at the tile. A part of you is tickled to see he has a charm on his crocs in the shape of the blue shark from that Korean baby shark song.

“What would you say, sweetheart, if I told you I set it up so my colleagues would page me when your friend’s procedure is done?”

You’ve got bubbles crawling up your esophagus, popping blithely in your mind as you look up at this tall, broad man with the countenance of a puppy.

“I'd ask if the coffee in the cafeteria was any better than the cups dispensed out of the machine down the hall.”

“It's a little bit better than the machine, yeah.” There's something like a smile on his face as he looks down at you, blue eyes crinkling in joy.

“Then lead the way, Dr. Floyd.” Your cocked eyebrow and broad grin make him smile more, the curve of his lips growing as he tugs you in the other direction when you start walking the wrong way.

He makes you feel a little giddy as he walks you down to the cafeteria with his hand against the small of your back. When there are two cups of coffee in front of you, your confidence falls completely flat. It’s like you’re no longer sure what to say anymore. Dr. Floyd seems to be just as stymied for words as you are.

You sip on the bitter coffee because your hands are fidgeting and restless. He’s right about the coffee. It’s better than the machine coffee, but not by much. You fish for something to say because it’s awkward sitting in silence while staring at your coffee. If you’re not looking at your cup, you’re staring at your fingers, with nails clipped short and calloused with your work around the ranch. You can’t bring yourself to look your fill at Dr. Floyd, so you sneak looks at him as you fidget.

“So,” you smile, the gesture feeling awkward as your muscles contort. “How’d you get the baby shark charm on your Crocs, Dr. Floyd?”

He chuckles, eyes flashing behind his glasses as he sips his coffee.

“Would you believe it if I told you I’ve only been at this hospital for a few months now?”

You grin softly at him. It looks like he’s thinking about how to describe the shark charm best, brow furrowed and lips pursed. All you want is to know what’s going on in his head. So you’re content to sit in silence.

“My first rotation here was in the pediatric surgery ward. This adorable little girl was going in for open heart surgery. She was heart-breakingly beautiful, with the prettiest smile, despite how sick she was.”

“Is she okay now?” The words trip out of your mouth without your permission.

“Yeah, she’s perfect.” He’s smiling. “I kept her calm before she went under and greeted her when she woke up with a big stuffed shark from the toy store.” He grins conspiratorially at you. “They didn’t have any sharks in the hospital gift shop. She was so happy to see me that it nearly made me cry. She begged her mom and dad to get me a shark charm for my Crocs before she was released to go home. I’ve been wearing it ever since.”

You’re smiling now in total, and when you shyly glance up at him, he’s smiling a smile that mirrors yours. “You sound like you love what you do, Doctor.”

“Call me Bob. Please.” He grins, and you shudder when you feel his feet tangle with yours beneath the plastic table. “Dr. Floyd is my dad. I still recoil and fight this urge to turn around to see if he’s behind me when I hear that name.”

“Bob, it is.” You giggle a little as you sip on your coffee. “So, you don’t swoop in like a knight in shining armor for any old catatonic girl covered in blood sitting in the waiting area?”

“I don’t.” He cards his fingers through his hair, “You’re special, believe it or not.”

You giggle a little uncomfortably. “How so?”

“You looked like you could use some help. It’s true what I said earlier. I rarely find pretty girls in the waiting room and show them places to get cleaned up. That seems to be something I only do for you.”

His smile fades a little then, brow furrowing again. If you were bolder you’d reach out to brush the wrinkled skin smooth again.

“You looked so lost. It’s weird because I didn’t even know your name.” When he says it, it feels like he’s tasting it on his tongue - and it looks like he likes your name in his mouth, too.

“I just wanted to make you smile and flirt a little bit, too.” When he lifts his eyes back up to meet yours, he’s smiling shyly. “So, is it working?”

You grin back and slide your hand out until you can take his hand. If anything, it stops his fidgeting.

“What’s the likelihood of a girl getting a nice piece of cake here?

“I hate to break it to you, Sugar, but we’re in a hospital. The only dessert we’ve got in Jello.”

“Sugar?”

He smiles. “Yeah, you’re sweet like sugar, especially when you smile at me like that. Give me a second. Let me see what I can get for you.”

When Bob stands up from the chair and strides over to the long counter, he gives you a little bit of room to breathe. It shouldn’t be this easy to fall for a man you barely know. There’s a reason why you were goofing around with your friends in an abandoned barn in the middle of a snowstorm, after all. You don’t have a lot of time for fun anymore.

You haven’t since inheriting the ranch from your great-aunt three years ago. There just hadn’t been enough time. In between getting the ranch running again and taking care of all of the animals, you’ve barely been sleeping. There was always something you needed to take care of, whether it was patrolling around the herds to make sure the coyotes hadn’t gotten them or spending hours going over the accounts to make sure there was enough money for food and medicine - for the humans and the animals.

The first calving season had brought you Jake and Natasha in the middle of a rainstorm. They’d originally stayed just to help with a breech calf, and you’d asked them to stay permanently when you saw how the herd responded to Jake’s soft Texan burr and how at home Natasha had been on horseback under the cornflower blue sky, the wind teasing her hair out from its ponytail. Since then, it’s been the three of you and more animals than each of you know how to handle.

You don’t know for sure, but sometimes you think there’s something between your two friends. It’s easy to notice when you spend most of your day only with the two of them or with the animals on the farm. Maybe you should have let Nat drive Jake to the hospital. But with Betsie foaling soon and Nat one of the only people she trusted, you had no choice. You fumble for your phone, digging it out of your bag, and make sure you haven’t missed any calls or messages from your friend.

Betsie’s in labor. I’ve called Doc McCoy. I don’t know if he’ll make it out to the ranch in time, but don’t worry. You take care of Jake. I’ve got Betsie. Let me know when he’s okay.

She sounds angry or maybe stressed; her words sound clipped even over the phone. Either you’ll have to do a lot of groveling or plan to get her some time alone with Jake.

“Is everything okay?”

Your smile feels like it’s disappeared into thin air - like you couldn’t find it if you tried. Your light, easy demeanor is gone, and the burdens of your day-to-day life are back. But you still try to curve your lips up in Bob’s direction.

“Yeah, yeah.” You accept the plate of jiggling multi-colored Jello from him. “One of our mares is foaling back on the ranch. When it rains, it pours, I guess.”

“Is everything alright? Do you need to run back there?”

You poke lacklusterly at the jiggling sweet as you ponder how to respond to his earnest query. “No. Nat’s the only person the mare in question, Betsie, trusts.”

He blinks gently at you before nudging the Jello closer. “C’mon. You’ll feel better if you eat something.” His tone is quietly wheedling, and his blue eyes sear into you as you scoop a bite of the jiggling sweet into your mouth.

For several moments, it’s quiet. You can taste the artificial fruit as the Jello melts on your tongue. Inexplicably, it calms you as the sugar hits your stomach and dissipates the shadows brought on by stress.

“How long have you had the ranch?” Bob’s gently warm voice feels like being wrapped in blankets.

It feels like you’re wrapped in a dream, you and this handsome doctor, as you let the story spill into the quiet midnight atmosphere. There’s nobody else in the cafeteria with you, and it feels like there’s nobody else in the world. Maybe you shouldn’t share your struggles, things you haven’t told another soul, with a man you’ve only just met. But the stories spill off your tongue sweetly.

“The ranch is beautiful on winter mornings,” your voice is quiet as you intermittently sip your coffee. “It almost feels like a completely different universe.”

“What’s your favorite part of those winter mornings?”

Before you can respond, his phone rings. In an instant, it’s like the man you’ve been talking to for so long is a completely different person. His face shutters, his smiling mouth going flat as he listens to the voice spilling down the line. He hums and nods, all those little noises people make when they’re listening, spilling out in his rich, lush voice. You find yourself liking this side of Bob too - the doctor side.

When he hangs up the call and stands up, you scramble to join him in collecting the mugs of long-cold coffee and empty plates.

“Your friend, Jake?” Your head snaps up so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash. “He’s coming out of surgery now. They’re moving him into one of the Post-Anesthesia Care Units. My colleagues on the surgical team say he’s going to be fine. He’ll have to stay at the hospital for another couple of days. He’ll also have to be careful of his arm and not lift anything heavy for the next little while. But he’s going to heal up perfectly.”

You nearly crumple with relief as you follow Bob to the recovery rooms and take your spot next to Jake. The first thing you do when you see Jake again is text Natasha. Between phone calls with Natasha and talking to Jake’s doctors, you lose sight of Bob. As the days pass in trips between the ranch and the hospital, in talking to Natasha, in crying when you see your best friend finally open his eyes when the anesthesia wears away, you’re not sure you’ll ever see Dr. Floyd again.

Was he just a figment of your imagination in the dark hours of night?

You’re signing the last discharge forms two days later when you finally see him again.

“Hey.” He looks sheepish, a small grin curling the corners of his mouth up as he tries valiantly to ignore Jake and Natasha, bickering off to the side.

“Hey.”

“They’re discharging him today, huh?”

You grin at him. “Yeah. I’m glad he’s alright.”

“W-would you maybe want to have coffee sometime, again? Or maybe dinner?” Your heart stutters in its steady beat as you process the words. There’s something like hope growing in your chest before reality rears its ugly head.

“I’d love to. But with the ranch, I’m not sure how feasible it would be to drive an hour into town to have coffee.”

The light in his beautiful blue eyes dims. “Oh.”

“Maybe I can come down to the ranch, then?”

You smile and nod. Jake and Natasha have stopped talking in the background, which means they’ve noticed your conversation with this all too handsome doctor who is wholly out of your league.

“I’d love that.”

“Here,” He hands you his phone. “Put your number in, Sugar.”

When you hand the phone back with clammy palms, he wraps his arms around you in a gentle embrace. You think you can feel the brush of his lips across your forehead.

You’ve got a giddy smile on your face all the way home. Nat and Jake are anything but silent, taking turns asking you what happened in the hospital the night you tore into the Emergency Room drop off. Nat’s a little bolder than Jake is, asking,“So, who’s the cute doctor?” as soon as you’re on the road.

You barely manage to avoid their insistent attempts at wheedling the story out of you until you’ve gotten Jake settled into his room with Nat fluttering about fussing over him. You pull your phone out again in the confines of your bedroom, far away from prying eyes and people who know you too well and can read your every facial expression. There’s a message waiting for you.

Hey, this is Bob. I’d love to come by the ranch when I’m free. Just let me know, Sugar. Hopefully, the winter view you told me about is better than my dreams. I think it will be because it’s got you in it. You have to give me my sweater and scrubs back anyway, doll. So I’ll see you soon.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

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@desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32 @thedroneranger @cherrycola27 @kmc1989 @chaoticassidy @shanimallina87

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #bob x reader #bob imagine #robert bob floyd imagin #robert floyd imagine

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