#why does everything end up stupidly long
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❦ ON MY DESK BY MIDNIGHT
“your professor was a strict asshole and you were failing the class. the only thing to do was go to him for extra help, unfortunately, he’s not a patient man.”
cw: teacher/student relationship, age gap, spanking, unprotected sex, sir kink, hate fucking (?)
KINKTOBER MASTERLIST
If looks could kill, your laptop would be six feet under.
You glared at the 29% on your screen as if it would change under intimidation. If it were any other class, the right thing would be to drop, but you needed this credit for your major, and you weren't gonna let your asshole professor stand in the way of your degree. So you closed the tab and opened your email.
Hi, Professor Geto,
I just received my mark on the last test, and I did not do as well as I hoped. Is there any extra material you recommend that I study in order to get a better grade next time? Or are there any tutoring opportunities I could use?
Thank you,
Y/N
Within a couple minutes, you received a response.
Sure.
Office hours tomorrow.
Sent from my iPhone
Besides the fact that he didn't answer your questions, the complete lack of tact from this man plus the shitty grade he gave you just pissed you off, and you ended up slamming your poor laptop closed with petty rage.
God, you hated him. He was always so haughty, acting as if everything around him was boring. You've caught his dark eyes glancing over at you with a condescending smirk more times than you could count. The thought of seeking tutoring opportunities from someone like him only made your blood boil even more.
You hated his stupidly long hair and how it always framed his face and looked so soft. You hated how, when it was warm, he wore short sleeves that showed off his tattoos that you couldn't take your eyes off of. You hated how his deep, velvety voice made you shift in your seat as you imagined him whispering things in your ear.
You hated him.
And you hated thinking about him right now, so with a huff, you turned over and went to sleep.
The next day, you went to his office. Looking through the open door at him, you were reminded of your thoughts last night. He had his hair tied up, those stubborn bangs falling out effortlessly like always, and his buttoned shirt was rolled up around his forearms, a glimpse of inked skin peeking through. Professor Geto was shuffling through some papers when he looked up from his desk and met your eyes.
"You coming in?" He drawled, and you blushed slightly from being caught.
You shuffled inside and closed the door behind you before your fingers started playing with the hem of your skirt. Professor Geto stood up and placed your test on the desk.
"So you don't like your mark." He said and you shook your head. "What do you plan to do about that?"
You frowned. "I emailed you yesterday about tutoring."
"It seems like you don't listen to what I say during lectures; why would you listen now?"
"I do listen to you! Maybe you just suck at teaching."
"Maybe you're a shit student." He retaliated, and all thoughts of his attractiveness went out the window.
You started seething. "I'm there for every lecture!"
"Then maybe if you didn't eye-fuck the boys in class and actually paid attention, you'd have passed."
Your eyebrows shot up to the sky as you seethed, "Excuse me?"
But he just blinked at you.
"Why does it matter if I'm eye-fucking someone?" You blurted.
"It gets a little distracting in class when my students keep talking about who you blew on the weekend instead of working." His sharp gaze cut you down, and you felt bare. But you didn't back out of the challenge.
"Oh, so you're just upset 'cause you're a 35-year-old virgin who can't get any." You surmised, and he smirked.
"Yea? And why are your panties soaked every class?" He took a step forward and towered over you, leaning down slightly and lowering his voice. "Next time you spread your legs under the desk, I like the lacey white ones you wear."
The heat in your face felt like a wildfire, but you refused to let him see your vulnerability. "Who says it's you that gets me wet?" You retorted, standing your ground.
But with one more step toward you, your knees nearly buckled. Almost chest-to-chest with the man, he trailed his fingers up your arm, leaving goosebumps along your skin, before dipping under your skirt. You shuddered at his cool hands, frozen in place as he curled two fingers along your pussy. It took all your strength not to moan at the simple touch.
Retracting his grip, he lifted up his hand in front of the two of you and admired the slick covering his fingers. As he spread them, your stringy juice connected each digit, proof of the lewd thoughts you have for your professor. But then he brings them to your mouth, and you don't know why, but you habitually open your lips and suck your fluid from his fingertips, not breaking eye contact with the man.
"You expect me to believe that wasn't meant for me?" He spoke in a dangerously low voice that caused you to whimper softly around his fingers.
Geto smiled—a sight you had never seen before but could tell was downright sadistic. His eyes gleamed with a mix of satisfaction and power as he watched your submissive reaction. It was clear that he enjoyed having this control over you, relishing in the knowledge that he could make you succumb to his desires without question.
Then he turned away from you, taking back his fingers and casually wiping them on his pressed shirt as he looked down at the graded test. You were confused.
"So, you're not happy with the mark." He repeated. You could sense a hint of amusement in his voice, as if he found your disappointment entertaining. It was evident that he took pleasure in exerting his dominance over you. As he continued to speak, his condescending tone only further emphasized his sadistic nature. "Why don't we go through it?"
After a couple of dumbfounded blinks, wondering if what just transpired actually took place, you nodded and stepped towards the desk.
Your professor moved away for a second before appearing behind you and holding out a pencil. Not knowing what was going on, you took the utensil from his grasp, feeling the rough skin of his fingers—the same ones that were just in your mouth. You looked down at the test.
"First question..." You trailed off as his large hand came to rest on your ass. You froze for a second at the touch, but then he pulled away and landed a harsh smack against you.
You yelped and looked up at him with wide eyes.
The condescending gaze was back. "Did I tell you to stop?"
Your heart raced as confusion and arousal washed over you. The shock of his actions made it difficult to comprehend what was happening, but the slight stinging sensation on your ass had you bowing your head back to the paper.
"No," you said.
"No, what?"
"No, Sir." You corrected, and he hummed softly, his hand coming back to massage under your skirt.
You continued reading the question, trying not to falter at the reminder of his touch. But when you began your answer, his hand drew back and landed another harsh spank.
You gripped the desk in front of you.
"Wrong." Was all he said.
You whimpered but tried again.
Another slap.
"Sir..." You whined.
"Keep going."
You wiggled under his touch, your legs pushing together for a fraction of friction where you really needed it. Taking your time, you slowly worked through the answer, voice trembling at each graze of his rough fingers toying with the edge of your panties. When you finished, his hand dipped under the fabric and rubbed your clit, causing you to buckle under him.
His other arm came around to hold you up, pressing your body back into his sturdy chest as he chuckled darkly.
"Good girl," he mumbled. "Next."
"Sir, please..." You didn't know what you were asking for, but the lewd sound of his fingers against your soaked lips and the pleasure that came from them had your mind fuzzy.
"Are you already fucked dumb?" He asked rhetorically. "Haven't even taken out my dick yet."
At that, you whined and pushed yourself back against him, feeling his hard cock through his dress pants. He let out a hiss at the sensation, letting go of you in favour of undoing his buckle. As your arms fell on the desk in front of you to hold up your body, you couldn't help but anticipate the impending release of pleasure that awaited you. The air in the room grew thick with desire as he finally freed himself from his pants, and you could feel your own arousal burning with each passing second.
Geto didn't warn you when he entered. The sudden intrusion of his hard length inside you took your breath away, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body. The intensity of the moment overwhelmed you, heightening the pleasure and leaving you craving more.
He wasn't gentle with you, treating you like a vessel for his own pleasure, but your wanton moans told him you liked it just as much as him.
"Do the little boys in the class fuck you like this?" He grunted, and you shook your head defiantly.
You bit your lip, trying to regain some confidence as you said, "T-they do it better."
"Oh?" He hummed and pulled out.
Your professor slipped out of you, grabbed your hips, and flipped you over. He pushed you back onto the desk, laid you down atop all the messy paperwork—including your forgotten test—and pushed your legs into your chest before you thrust inside again.
You let out a moan at the newfound spot he could reach, and Geto slapped a hand over your mouth.
"You want everyone to know this 35-year-old virgin is fucking you?" He mocked your inability to speak.
Every glide and thrust of his hips against yours sent shockwaves of pleasure throughout your entire being. The rhythm between you two was intoxicating—a perfect dance of lust and appetite. With each movement, you found yourself surrendering completely to the overwhelming pleasure, losing yourself in the euphoria of the moment.
"God, how are you so fucking tight?" He groaned, his voice filled with a mix of desire and disbelief. The intensity of the sensations overwhelmed you, making it hard to form coherent words. You could only moan in response, your body responding to his every touch and movement. Then he brought his thumb roughly against your clit, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. The pleasure intensified, causing your breath to hitch and your heart to race even faster. Every nerve ending in your body felt alive, consumed by the sting of ecstasy that seemed to have no end in sight.
"You like being used like this?" He asked. "Seems to be the only thing you're good at."
As the words left his lips, a mix of desire and humiliation washed over you. The intensity of the moment heightened, and your mind raced with conflicting emotions, torn between the raw pleasure coursing through your veins and the sting of his degrading words. It was a twisted dance of dominance and submission, leaving you yearning for more while questioning your own desires.
But as your orgasm washed over you, your mind was filled with nothing but pleasure, and your professor's cock was still buried deep inside you, pulsating with each wave of pleasure that rippled through your body. The illicit nature of the encounter only fueled your desire further as you surrendered completely to the intoxicating sensations for just a moment. As you lay there, spent and breathless, a newfound sense of liberation washed over you, leaving you craving more of the man in front of you.
He pulled out of you.
Your eyes widened with confusion and disappointment as you watched him retreat, leaving you feeling empty and unsatisfied. The sudden absence of his presence left a void within you, aching for his touch once again. So when he sat in his chair and motioned you back to him with a single curl of his finger, you willed your aching legs to carry you into his lap.
As you settled atop him, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. The intensity of his gaze and the heat radiating from his body reignited the desire that had momentarily been extinguished. You lined yourself up with his cock and slowly ground yourself onto it.
His hands stilled against you when you tried to bounce, however, and kept you trapped against him as he looked down at you.
"You do this to all your professors?" He asked, and you shook your head violently.
"Only you, sir." Your once-confident voice was now soft and laced with lust, and you let out a soft moan as you felt his dick twitch within you at the mention of his name. "You like when I call you 'Sir'?
His glare darkened, hips thrusting up harshly to elicit a yelp from you.
"You like when I make you cum on my cock?" He retaliated, and you bit your tongue. "Make me cum, and I'll give you a passing grade."
At the proposition, a mix of excitement and hesitation washed over you. The power dynamic between you and your professor was intoxicating, but the thought of trading sexual favours for academic success was never something you thought you'd do. However, the allure of achieving a passing grade in his class was hard to resist, and the thought of making this man you despise come undone was too good to pass up.
You leaned in, nipped his ear, and, in your most sultry voice, said, "Anything you want, sir.”
As those words left your lips, a rush of adrenaline coursed through your veins. The line between right and wrong blurred in that moment, and when you lifted your hips, only to fall straight down on his aching cock, you felt nothing but pride.
The intensity of the moment consumed you as you revelled in the power you took back. As the pleasure intensified, a sense of satisfaction washed over you, fueling your desire to get what you want. You bounced on top of him, riding the wave of control and dominance. Every movement was deliberate, and every moan he uttered was a testament to your newfound liberation. With each thrust, you could feel the balance of power shifting in your favour, solidifying your position as the one in charge. The exhilaration of getting what you desired fueled your confidence, leaving you hungry for more.
When his grip on your sides tightened and his eyes screwed shut in pleasure, you revelled in the satisfaction of knowing that you had brought him to this point. As Geto reached the peak of ecstasy, a sense of fulfillment washed over you, knowing you had finally made this man crumble.
You jumped off his lap, making his cum squirt into the air, only to fall and soil his pants. The pathetic stature of the man in front of you, coming down from his high, made you grin, eyes flashing to his glaring ones.
Wordlessly, you grabbed your crumpled test and pushed it in front of him, smirking down at the soiled man.
#kleftiko’s kinktober#jjk x reader#jjk smut#geto x reader#geto smut#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru smut#suguru geto x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#suguru geto smut#getou suguru x reader
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The order of things
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader
Warnings: mild angst, masturbation, oral sex (m receiving), grinding
Word count: 3k
Taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @arcielee @credulouskhaleesi @bunbunbl0gs @alphard-hydraes-blog
MASTERLIST
There is a raven that flies towards the rookery as soon as the sun is high enough to bathe the Keep in orange. It always comes at the same split minute, Aemond sees it every day, because it is the same split minute in which his training ends. Sometimes he even manages to get the better of the bird, then looks up as he sheathes his sword and awaits him. As soon as it crosses the sky he leaves the courtyard.
His day is like a prayer, devoutly tenacious and unchanging. A bath, breakfast, a flight on dragonback, a book. A visit to Helaena and the twins if the reading bores him.
Someone might say that even his walk is always the same. Rigour and order, to be everything Aegon is not.
This time, he disarms Ser Criston well in advance, so much that the raven has yet to show itself, and when it does, Aemond will be blind to his passing.
"Mother," he says curtly as the Queen passes by. She goes to pray as she does every morning, always at the same time. She too is a creature devoted to rigour, and duty; she has seized her days and clutched them in her fist to prevent them from floating through her.
She pauses to greet him, her voice as mellifluous as ever and her eyes just as warm, and then suddenly, he turns to look at her as if he is looking at a stranger, as if she is speaking a language he does not know. "I wanted to tell you that I'm going to see some girls today, to choose your new maid."
"What's wrong with my maid?"
"Well, I figured she might ask for a leave as the wedding approaches."
He blinks, he stalls, he bogs, unnaturally, the sand stops in the hourglass. The raven glides over the towers, unnoticed.
"Yes, of course." he says, sheathing his sword, and the sand flows again, grain by grain; the funnel shrunk.
Everything in his life is part of that rigour, even people, even her.
She has been in his service long enough to know without asking when the scar pulls to the point of requiring medication. She has been in his service long enough to know that a slight frown in his eyebrows is enough to make her close the curtains and prevent the light from worsening the pain in his head, to know that he likes his venison rather raw, that he hates that doublet because the sleeves are puffed and he feels like a court jester. And she tacitly made it disappear.
She does everything without uttering a word. She doesn't need to ask, she moves when he moves, she has adapted to him like a second skin, and she doesn't seem harmed by the edges.
Yet he is harmed by something, as she pulls off his boots in front of the fireplace. He sees a flat sea where he would like to see a storm. He sees grains flowing and wishes to crash the glass.
"Do you need anything else my Prince?" she has a seraphic expression on her face, and he sees deception. She speaks in a firm, devoted voice, and he hears betrayal.
He stares at her with the eye that looks like a needle, feels like it, then shifts his gaze to the fire and says "I will be in need of your assistance tomorrow, for the whole day."
"The whole day?"
"Yes. Why? Do you have something better to do than the duties you are paid for?"
She is no novice to his bitter tongue; somehow, stupidly, naively and recklessly, she is able to imbue it with treacle when it enters her head. It doesn't matter anyway, her foolishness will end as soon as she takes her vows.
"No. Of course not. I'll be at your service, my Prince."
"Hmm, until?"
"Until?"
"You should be the one to tell me. When is the wedding due?"
Her eyes widen like two large moons and she seems to crumple in on herself, on the floor she is kneeling on, under the Prince's unwavering, iron eye. She feels her throat tighten and yet his hands are steady along the armrests. She feels her lungs crackle against her ribcage. "I—"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Why didn't she?
"My prince, I thought your Grace should not be bothered with such trivial matters."
"I decide what to be bothered about." He says in an imperative tone. "When would you have bothered to inform me? Is this how you show loyalty to your prince? Keeping things from me?"
She glues her eyes to the floor, she cannot hold the Prince's gaze, not when he is like this, even though he has never been like this. He looks angry, he looks outraged? As if he has been wronged. That look makes her blood run cold, and then it melts in red down her cheeks and neck. It would be too easy to blame the chimney behind her back, easy but necessary, to keep things in order. Prince and servant, nothing more. What else is there?
There are heavy sighs falling in the dark, stranded between the sheets as his bones boil and tense at the climax, desire spilled, wasted. But that's fine. To not be all that Aegon is. This too has become rigour, part of the order of things.
It is the order of things to watch her kneel at his feet and wish to spill his desire into her mouth. As is seeing her nails always neat and tidy scratching the floor as her back arches against him, as is seeing the blood reddening her cheeks and neck, and wanting to lick it as far as it goes.
Someone else will do it. An ordinary man of no consequence in the order of things, the real one.
"You may go." he says coldly, hoping the frost of his tongue will cool the feverish blood under his skin.
She rises from the floor with a bowed, desolate head. "I bid you good night, my Prince."
The next morning he asks her to change the sheets, and he turns his back on her, ashamed, as if she knows she is in those sheets.
He takes a bath while she does her chores, finishing exactly when he does, because she moves when he moves. She helps him put on a dark green robe, unperturbed by his nudity, because that is her duty and it no longer makes her blush.
There's never been clumsiness in her hands, but there is today. Aemond feels her hands heavy as boulders when she prepares the ointment for his eye, when she leans over him to remove his eyepatch. She doesn't speak to him as she always does, oozing that glimmer of amusement when she brings up the servants' petty feuds and wars.
"You're rather quiet today." He asserts later, as she buttons his doublet "Has the armistice been reached in the kitchens?"
She opens in a brief smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I don't know, Your Grace. I find myself spending a lot more time outside the Keep these days."
"Is that so?” He retorts, narrowing his eye “Hmm, is that why my books are still on the desk?"
She finishes her buttoning and ties her hands on her modest skirt. "I am sorry, Your Grace. I will see to it that they are put in order at once."
"I have no use for your apology. Why didn't you do it when I told you to?"
"Your mother gave me a leave for a few hours yesterday."
"And why did you ask my mother and not me? You are in my service, not hers."
She keeps looking down like a suspect on trial and swallows. "I went to Flea Bottom to buy some fabric for my wedding dress. I was ashamed to ask you for a leave for something so frivolous. As a woman, I thought your mother would understand."
"You will do no such thing in the future. Hide things from me and leave the Keep without my permission, or I'll have you punished. Am I being clear?"
"Your Grace, I…” she pauses, she looks down, she swallows, but it’s now or never. “You should know that I will no longer be here after the wedding. I am going to formally resign my position. Your Mother has already-"
His eye goes wide, and wild, and he breathes loudly until he is snarling. "Are you deaf or dense? Did you not hear me? You will not leave my service."
The moons in her eyes are full now. She looks at him, begging him to let her go, because that is the natural course of things. She will marry a common man, give him a couple of children and live a quiet life in the country, where her groom has a smallholding of land, their only source of wealth if they do not want a life of misery in Flea Bottom. And she is fine with that. She has accepted it. She is like any other common girl, she cannot dream, her blood is only red, there's no castle nor crown waiting for her.
She has accepted her fate with the calmness of a stream that lets itself be carried along by its current. She is happy like this, because as far as she could, in that silly way in which all ordinary girls dream, she dreamed, even though her dream is made of flesh and blood.
She had shivered when he had leaned over her when he taught her to read. She had breathed in deeply to know what he smelled like. She had felt ice in her stomach under his gaze when she read a few pages to him. And that is more than dreaming.
She cannot remain in his service, because she is an ordinary girl and more than dream, she cannot want.
"Your Grace..." she begs, going down to the floor "I beg you. Let me go my way. I believe I have always served you to the best of my ability and if I’ve ever failed you in something, name it. I will do anything to make it right."
Aemond bogs again, but in something far more paralysing and at the same time overwhelming than all his rigour. Perhaps it is the sight of her on her knees again, her head bowed and devoted, and the fact that he wants to touch that devotion, wants to taste it and swallow it.
Slowly, he lifts her chin with two fingers, eye blind to everything else; his thumb moves over her lower lip as if to know its edges, as if he has wanted to do this all his life.
"Anything?" he asks in the voice of another, the one stranded in the sheets.
She nods slowly, and the movement rubs his thumb against her teeth for a moment, forcing him to swallow, to give himself control, not to push his finger in. He is not Aegon, He is not Aegon, he is not Aegon.
"Would you be willing to please me?" he asks, and his question reaches some remote place in her, that place where a girl can dream and want freely. In that place, if he had asked once, twice, a hundred times, she would have bent to his will, not to the duty of the servant who must please her lord. Sure, that too. But first of all to her will. It is a question that need not be asked, for there is but one answer.
"Yes..."
Blood flows into her cheeks, breathing out fire from her lips. "How...? How do you want me to please you, my Prince?"
"With this..." he replies, pushing his thumb over her lip.
Her hands move fluidly over the belt and buttons of his breechers as if she had done this countless times before. She helps him dress, she knows his body even though she has never touched him. She has never touched a man in her life, not like this. Aemond reads the embarrassment on her cheeks and he basks in it with a glimmer of pride, because he will be the first.
Gently, he places a hand behind her head, tilting it a little, and looks at her with his heavy, clouded eye, enthralled. "Open your mouth..."
He knows she's never done this before, but the hot alcove of her mouth is enough to make him open his mouth and let out air in a broken cadence. She raises her eyes as if to ask if she is doing something wrong, and the sight, real and not the outcome of some delusion hidden in the dark, smothers his breath. He begins to thrust into her mouth slowly, hardening quickly as she continues to look at him and welcome him into her mouth with the devotion with which one kneels to the Seven.
"Gevie..." he pants hoarsely, brushing his fingers through her hair "You look more beautiful than I thought like this..."
His hand in her hair never tightens, though his hips move faster and the wet sound is the only one that keeps his panting company.
"Your cheeks..." he instructs her "Hollow your cheeks..."
And just as when he was teaching her to read, she listens , sucking agonisingly slowly. “Fuck—” he curses, threading his long fingers through her hair and pulling at the roots; he thrusts faster so that she has to grip his waist with her hands but when he senses she can’t breathe, he lets of her head and slips out of her scorching lips, hissing at feeling the cold air of the room.
She’s panting hard, with her mouth open and slick with him. But she has little time to catch a puff of air. He thrashes her on the carpet, with a rough kiss full of teeth and growls, and his hands move like talons, pulling her modest skirts up to her waist.
“No—My Prince—” she muffles on his mouth, pleading but desperate all together “We can’t—”
“I won’t ruin you, I promise.” he says rummaging through her garments “Just let me feel you this once—”
He finds her core with his large hand, hot and slick, and she whimpers loudly in his open mouth. “Do you get this wet for your groom, hmm? Or just for your Prince?”
She unconsciously bucks her hips against his hand and he smiles, delightfully, against her neck, licking a stripe down her throat. “I’m in need of an answer, my sweet girl…” he says raising his head, the leather piece is about to fall behind his disheveled hair. “Have you touched yourself thinking of me?”
Shame washes over her as well as pride does him. “You did, didn’t you?”
His retrieves his hand and licks her off his fingers as if he was waiting for nothing else, staring at her with his eye pitch black.
“Do it.”
“M-my Prince?”
“Touch yourself. Now.”
She looks away, reddening even more, but he grasps her chin and forces her to look at him. “Do you want that permission to leave my service?”
It takes her a minute to swallow her shame, and then her hands is slipping between them. He pulls himself up on one arm to give her space to spread her legs some more, to watch closely as she starts to move her little hand on her bundle of nerves. “Look at me.” He commands, and she flutters her eyes with a bit of prudery before obliging.
Her breathing becomes heavy, just as his, slowly touching himself to mimic her, as he has done countless of times before but this is different. This is like the first time. He can watch her chasing her pleasure because of him, with him. He can watch the sweat beading her neck, her lip trembling. He can hear the sweet lewd sounds she makes for him.
She grows more desperate by the moment, swaying her hips on the carpet, grabbing his shoulder and neck until he falls on her. He groans upon feeling her cunt against his cock and by now they’re both too close to need hands anymore. He starts to grind against her, his hard flesh slicking ever so easily on her wetness, swallowing her whimpers and moans as he pants and rasps on her lips “Go on, sweet one. Come for me, hm?”
She does so, gripping his shoulders until digging her nails on the fabric, moaning with her mouth slack open.
He keeps grinding against her, frantic, panting, the eyepatch is somewhere on the ground and she watches him in the stupor of pleasure, like she’s experiencing a vivid dream, but the weight of the prince on her is real, his cock rubbing against her core making it twitch for more, his coarse voice as he rasps “Gods—‘M so close…” and then the jolt of warm seed on her belly.
He falls on her breathing hard, making her wince, but she can't find the strength to slip away, to pull down her skirt or move the long silvery lock that has gone into her mouth. She must leave everything as it is, and then leave it to be the ordinary girl without dreams.
For two days, her presence around the Keep is rather scarce, barely traceable in the Prince’s chambers. But his breakfast is always ready on his desk, his clothes always clean and well folded on the chair.
Aemond does not send for her nor does he seem to care where she is. He returns to his rigour, to his books, to his training as soon as dawn breaks.
One of the Kingsguard shows up in the courtyard and stands there to watch, waiting for the Prince to finish his duel.
"My Prince, I've done some research after our last conversation."
"Well?"
"Just as you said, your Grace. A modest cottage and a piece of land near Duskendale."
"Good." He says, sheathing his sword and glancing up upon hearing a distant caw. "I want you to send two city guards there, and burn it all down."
The guard blinks, widening his eyes. "My Prince?"
"You heard me."
The guard leaves and Aemond hears cawing again, closer this time. He glances up and the raven greets him, flapping his wings in the newborn sun.
Everything is in order.
#liv(in la vida loca)#aemond targaryen x reader#ewan mitchell#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen fanfic#house of the dragon#hotd fic#aemond fic#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x reader#aemond x you#aemond smut#dark aemond smut#dark aemond targaryen#the order of things
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if you still have your 1k words of kissing satoru pls bestow it to me 🧎🏽♀️i’m grabbing him by the back of his blindfold and making out with him fr
pairing. high schooler!gojo satoru × gn!reader
content. fluff + one kiss, implied that reader is shorter than gojo, somewhat proofread (i hate everything) read slowly!!
sticky-note. IM CRYING the way u worded this ask made me want to write an entirely new thing of making out w gojo 😭 ty for sending this in leeee 🫶
it is no secret that gojo satoru looks like a good kisser.
he’s attentive; one large hand on the small of your back to hold you steady while the other rests on your hip, eyes on you to see if you’ll make the first move. to both his and your dismay, you don’t move a single inch.
“i can’t do it,” you finally say, exasperated, pulling away to quickly hide your face in your hands. you awkwardly twist away from his figure, unable to stand the way that you’re able to see his stupidly pretty eyes through his sunglasses. it infuriates you to no end. “i give up. this is too embarrassing.”
“that’s so mean of you to say,” gojo whines not unsimilar to a toddler, but there is only amusement in his tone as he lightly tugs on the waistband of your pants, trying to get you to turn back around. “shouldn’t you be honored to kiss the one and only gojo satoru?��
“shutupshutupshutup,” you chant, mostly to yourself than to the obnoxious boy behind you. you swat weakly at his hand while trying to ignore the demonic voices in your head.
it is no secret that you’ve liked your classmate for a long while now. as cute and funny (and hot) as gojo is, he is twice as annoying and unpleasant. you swear he makes it his daily goal to get your blood boiling every chance he gets. that is the sole reason why you don’t plan on professing your love anytime soon: due to the fact that shoko will forever be disappointed in you and will never let you live it down if she knew. you don’t even want to think about what utahime would ultimately think of you.
he continues to bug you, “c’mo-on...” you can practically hear him sporting his signature smug grin. “do you really wanna go back to jujutsu high like that and kiss suguru instead?”
at that, you spin around in an instant—a mortified look on your face that further urges you to stab an accusatory finger at his chest. “y-you’re a damn liar! there is no way that there is an actual curse who’s goddamn antidote requires you to kiss someone when you get hit.”
sneakily, he wraps a palm around your wrist but makes no move to push your hand away. “but you just got touched by that cursed spirit, right? doesn’t your skin feel all sticky and itchy, like i mentioned?”
as much as you hate to admit it, you know that he’s right. before the two of you had gotten into the fight in the first place, he warned you not to get hit and the symptoms you would have to face if you did. your skin does feel like you just took a swim in poison ivy, and your head feels dizzy with a sudden migraine that should not be there, since gojo had instantly caught you the moment you faced a hit from the cursed spirit.
“b-but it doesn’t make any sense,” you sputter out, a weak last-minute resort. you really do not want to kiss gojo satoru—at least, not because of a measly curse—and have to hear him blab about it later on to your friends. you rant on, “if such a technique exists, then why didn’t you just kill the thing right away? aren’t you the strongest? why am i even on this mission with you?”
“hey!” he feigns an offended gasp, “are you saying that you don’t like hanging out with me?” he groans and dramatically lays an arm on his forehead, reminding you of a mistress in distress. you stare blankly. “how cruel of you. and besides, just because i’m the strongest doesn’t mean i can kill a first-grade so quickly.”
you keep staring at him with a disapproving look, but he only looks back at you with a joyous glint in his eyes. “...you’re insufferable,” you finally huff out, your hand still in his. but the both of you can hear the undertone of surrounder in your voice.
you stand awkwardly still in front of him for a few solid seconds, narrowing your eyes as he returns your defeated glare with a sheepish smile. you can’t help but sigh to yourself—you’re going to have to prepare yourself for a mouthful from shoko when you both head back.
you let him pull you closer when he tugs at your hand, your other palm moving to rest on his chest to steady yourself. but even then, you don’t get to kiss him until he leans down from that freakishly tall height of his— gently meeting his lips with yours.
it isn’t a quick peck. in fact, it’s a sweet and slow kind of kiss that makes your heart skip a concerningly amount of beats. a free hand of satoru’s moves up to softly cup the back of your head to deepen the kiss. nothing about his movements show that he’s in a rush to get the whole ordeal over with—and as much as you would like to lie and say that you hate it, you can’t help but step forwards to reach him better too.
your mind is in so much of a daze that you don’t even realize that satoru turned his limitless infinity just for you.
when you finally step back into reality and—reluctantly—pull away, gojo is grinning brightly with his sunglasses tucked into his hair. you didn’t even notice that he pushed them up to make the kiss more comfortable for you. however, you do notice that your skin still very much feels uncomfortable on your body and your head is pounding (whether it be from the symptoms or the kiss, you don’t really wanna know).
“you’re so cute,” gojo chuckles unabashedly, laughing again when you avert your gaze with another huff and a warm face. you are more than used to his flirty remarks and his more-than-platonic habits, but somehow it feels more... genuine this time around.
“and gullible,” he suddenly adds, the out of blue comment making you turn back towards him with a raised eyebrow. you squeak out a sound of surprise when he unexpectedly, but gently, pushes your head downwards, his other hand now in your line of sight. you feel more confusion swirling in your head when you see him holding a small vial with some clear, greenish liquid inside of it.
“here’s the real antidote,” gojo casually cheers, and he does not have a single shame in the world. a whole minute seems to pass by until you connect the dots, and when you do, the first thing that pops up in your mind is the thought of absolute murder.
“are you serious?” you practically screech. “you made that whole kiss thing up?”
#i hate him (he deserves to be happy and have everything nice in the world)#gojo x reader#gojo fluff#gojo drabble#im gonna cry#gege when i find you#🤬
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it’s a bad idea, right? - rhett abbott x fem!reader
pairing: rhett abbott x fem!reader
summary: mixing tequila and calls from your ex. what could go wrong?
warnings: 18+ only. smut. rough sex. drinking. bad decisions. mentions of a breakup. p in v. a lil choking. dirty talk. yearning. love confessions.
a/n: this is for my dear abby’s (@mothdruid) writing challenge. i have been thinking about writing a fic with rhett and this song since i heard it and abby gave me the perfect reason to do it 🥺💜
“Come over.”
You couldn’t help but scoff as you took another sip of your Long Island. It’s been nearly three months since you heard from Rhett. Nothing but radio silence since the day he left town. He was chasing his dream of riding professionally, you needed to focus on your career. You were on different paths and you grew further apart with each month until the end when it was nothing but slamming doors and heated arguments.
Your friends warned you about him. Told you he’d chew you up and spit you out in a heartbeat and you didn’t want to believe them at first. You fell hard and fast for Rhett and you couldn’t have stopped it.
Another message came in. And then another. All of which went ignored while you ordered another drink. Eleanor was talking about her coworker, the one she so desperately wanted to fuck she could hardly stand it. You felt bad for zoning out but your mind kept going back to the man texting you.
“El, I’m sorry. I gotta- I gotta get some fresh air. Save my seat?”
You hopped off the bar stool and headed towards the door, taking a look over your shoulder before walking out into the crisp autumn air.
Your thumb hovered over the call button. You knew it was a bad idea. You knew you’d regret it tomorrow. But between the tequila shots and the memories of Rhett’s hands, your phone was ringing before you could change your mind.
“Hey,” his gravelly voice muttered on the other end of the line and it sent a white-hot fire through your veins.
“Hi,” you stuttered out, pressing your cool hand to your heated face. “Why are you texting me now?”
“I miss you.”
“Bullshit.”
“I do! And I just moved into a new place. My place,” Rhett said, a little breathless. He sounded like he was pacing the floors, or he had been running, or he was- No. Don’t think about that.
“That’s nice. What does that have to do with me?” You questioned, a snarky tone escaping you.
He smirked at that. It had everything to do with you. He needed you. And he knew you needed him.
“I just wanna see you. Friend to friend,” he said playfully.
“I don’t know... I’ve been drinking and I’m out with a few friends and-“
“Please, darlin’. Just for a little bit,” Rhett pleaded. God, he sounded so pretty when he begged. You shook your head at the thought. “I’ll send you the address.”
You sighed deeply before hanging up the phone, a text coming in not a second later with his new address. What were you going to tell Eleanor? Lexie? You really didn’t want a lecture. You just kissed them on the cheek while grabbing your bag and called for an Uber.
Passing street lights and the light hum of the engine was enough to make your brain turn static. There was nothing on your mind but Rhett. The way he smelled. The way he kissed. The way his fingers would curl just right when he-
“We’re here, ma’am,” the driver notified, pulling you from your thoughts.
“Oh. Thanks.”
Your hands trembled slightly as you ascended the stairwell to the second floor. He was already standing there, hand braced on the top of the door frame. When did he get a tattoo on the inside of his bicep?
Rhett had a smile on his face. That crooked grin that always meant trouble. You wanted nothing more than to kiss it off his stupidly handsome face.
“There you are,” Rhett said proudly, knowing the hold he still had over you.
“Shut up,” you commanded as you pushed him through the door, tugging at the hem of his white t-shirt. He pulled it off with one hand, tossing it haphazardly onto the side table’s lampshade.
You were tripping over your feet as he pulled you towards the bedroom, hands pushing down the straps of your dress. They were calloused as ever. You couldn’t wait to feel the roughness of them rubbing against your chest, your thighs, your hips.
“God, you taste the same. I wonder if that’s everywhere,” Rhett muttered, mostly to himself but his words never failed to make your thighs clench.
“Less talking, more undressing.”
One second passed and then you heard a loud rip! before the cool air hits your back. Rhett had torn your dress right down the zipper, shoving his tongue in your mouth once more before you could protest.
Once you made it through his bedroom door, he took a moment to stop and take a look at you. You were standing in the middle of the room in nothing but your bra and panties. You should’ve worn something more fancy, more lacy like he liked. But he looked at you hungrily as his eyes roamed your nearly naked form. A low growl released his throat as he stalked forward, grabbing handfuls of your breasts roughly.
“Fuck, baby. Such a gorgeous thing. I’ve thought about you every night for the past three months,” Rhett confessed. He sounded genuine but you couldn’t be for sure. You were here to fuck. Nothing more.
Your eyes rolled back when Rhett pulled one cup down, bending slightly to wrap his lips around a peaked nipple. He suckled and tugged with his teeth, moaning loudly when your fingers tangled in his hair and pulled harshly.
“Bed. Now. Now!” You whimpered, pushing at his chest until the backs of his knees knocked against the mattress.
Rhett pulled you on top of him, his hard cock nestling perfectly against your clothed cunt. It caused you both to let out desperate noises, his hands finding their way to your hips and guiding you to move over the denim.
“Condom?”
“Drawer,” Rhett exasperated, eager hands tearing the flimsy cotton of your panties until they ripped as well.
“Rhett! Jesus, stop acting like a fucking caveman! I have to go home tomorrow, you know,” you fussed as you jerked the button open on his jeans.
“We’ll see about that,” he proclaimed proudly. That damn smile is back on his face. You rolled your eyes and ripped the foil with your teeth, causing a winded sound to leave Rhett. Good. You had the upper hand now.
He wriggled out of his jeans, hastily kicking them off the end of the bed and tugging his black boxers halfway down his thighs. He hissed as you gripped the base of his erection, slowly rolling the condom down while biting your lip. The head was red and leaking and your mouth watered at the sight. No time for that. You needed to feel him inside you.
“Quit lookin’ at me like that, woman. I ain’t a piece of meat,” he teased, then groaned wantonly when you positioned him at your dripping hole. You were going to regret not prepping yourself in the morning but you couldn’t wait another second. You gasped loudly as you slowly descended his length, nearly hissing at the stretch.
“So desperate for my cock, sweet girl couldn’t even take the time to stretch herself,” Rhett tutted, bracing his heels against the mattress and sliding his hands behind his head. You didn’t know if you wanted to smack him or kiss him. You eyed the black ink that lined his inner bicep. It took you a moment for your mind to process what the words were but your heart seized in your chest when you realized it was song lyrics from yours and his favorite song. You used to sing it in the truck all the time.
“You gonna ride me or are you gonna keep staring?”
“Do you ever shut your mouth or does it just keep running?” You retorted as you settled against his lap. You wiggled your hips and squeezed your thighs, grinning proudly when a pinched whimper came from him. You took your time slowly sliding up and down his cock, savoring the feeling of him hitting that spot inside you just right.
“I like you better when you’re not talking,” you said, picking up your pace ever so slightly.
“And I like you better when you ride my cock like you mean it,” Rhett growled, bucking his hips into you, causing you to fall forward and brace your hands on his upper torso. You snarled at him and his witty comment. Fuck him.
Your right hand slid across his collarbone and toward the column of his neck, bracing your hand there.
“Do it. I know you want to, baby,” Rhett responded, looking up at you with his crystal blue eyes wide and thin bottom lip tucked between his perfect teeth.
Everything became a blur after that moment. It was all nails and hands and moans. The headboard knocked against the wall as you bounced desperately on him, your hand wrapped tightly around his throat. He grunted loudly as he chased his release along beside you, the sound of skin slapping filled the room. It was filthy and feral and you could feel your thighs trembling uncontrollably.
“Come for me, sweet girl. Fuck, like a fucking vice. Come. M’right there with you,” Rhett begged, voice raspy.
Stars exploded behind your eyelids as you reached your peak, nails digging into Rhett’s pectorals. A sound escaped you that sounded like a near scream, disregarding whatever neighbors Rhett may have. He was not far behind you, even with the condom on you could feel his release.
You collapsed forward onto Rhett’s sweaty chest, trying to catch your breath. His heart pounded against your ear and his chest rose and fell rapidly, moving you with it. You heard a car horn down below, pulling you from your post-sex haze.
You winced when Rhett lifted your hips, a slight sting radiating from between your legs. He grunted deeply, grimacing at the feeling of his oversensitive member. You rolled over onto your back before rolling onto your side and propping yourself up on your elbow, watching him throw the condom in the wastebasket beside the bed and making his way toward the en suite bathroom.
You took the time to look around the room. It didn’t look much different than the room that he had at his parents' home. The same posters decorated the walls; his record player in the corner on the old table with the records stacked beneath it. His bed was bigger, that much you noticed.
Another tug at your heartstrings occurred when you saw a picture framed tucked on the back of his dresser. You couldn’t see the entire thing but you knew the picture all too well. It was a picture of the two of you at the lake the previous summer. It was your favorite picture. You couldn’t believe he still had it, still displayed it. Not that you could judge. It still sat proudly on your desk at home.
You blinked the tears away as Rhett emerged from the bathroom, still naked but now carrying a damp cloth. He cleaned you gently, awkward silence swirling around you. He placed a small kiss on the inside of your knee, stubble tickling you slightly.
“Thanks,” you whispered softly, earning a hum in response.
Rhett tugged a pair of sweatpants on and crawled into bed behind you, strong arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you tight to him.
“Rhett… we need to talk,” you spoke into the darkness.
“In the morning,” he said, soft snores escaping him not but a couple of moments later.
Birds chirped outside the window and the smell of french toast and fresh coffee flooded your senses. Your head pounded and your mouth was dry but you grinned at the familiar scent of Rhett. You didn’t get to enjoy the moment long before your phone buzzed on the floor in the pocket of your shredded dress.
You wrapped the sheets around you and bent to pick it up, groaning when you saw that Eleanor had called you twenty times. An incoming call making it the twenty-first.
“Don’t yell at me,” you pleaded, waiting for the berating to begin.
“Where the hell are you? I tried coming by your place this morning for our usual morning after brunch and you’re not answering. I’m worried!”
“Sorry, I was asleep.” Not a total lie.
“Where are you?” El questioned.
“Not at home…”
“Hey, honey. You want cream in your coffee? I got a fresh pot going.”
You smacked your forehead and cringed at the sound of Rhett’s voice filtering through the room.
“That’s not- Oh my god. You didn’t-”
“Love you, El! I’ll talk to you later,” you rushed to hang up the phone, throwing it across the mattress and letting out a frustrated noise into your hands. Rhett was standing at the door with a tray of food.
“Hungry?” He asked as he made his way towards you, taking a seat next to you on the bed. He sat the tray to the side and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.
“Starving, actually. Look… about last night. I- I don’t normally do that,” you confessed.
“What? Come to your ex’s house in the middle of the night and fu-”
“Yeah. That.” Rhett laughed at your sudden shyness. He always knew his crudeness flustered you. “I just- these past few months have been hell without you. And I guess I got a little too excited when you called me last night. But I don’t think I can just be a late-night booty call for you.”
“I don’t want you to be that,” Rhett said.
“Oh.”
“I want so much more.” Rhett’s large hands cupped your face, tilting your head up to make you look at him in the eyes. “I was a damn fool to let you go, sweetheart. And I’ll be damned if I make that mistake again.”
Tears prickled the corners of your eyes as you surged forward and wrapped your arms around his neck. He kissed your temple and held you close.
“Now eat up. I learned to cook this just for you.”
It may have been a bad idea last night, but now you’re thinking it was the best decision you’ve ever made as you shared a piece of french toast with Rhett.
tagging those who may be interested: @lewmagoo @withahappyrefrain @laracrofted @whisperofsong @damrlova @arctvrvs @bobgasm @mxgyver @ryebecca @nobody7102 @sebsxphia
#rhett abbott#rhett abbott x reader#rhett abbott smut#rhett abbott fanfiction#SOURGUTS#SOURGUTS writing challenge
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omg bella angst with a happy ending, they're good friends, reader likes him, there's rumours about bella with a girl, she's upset and keeping distance, bella trying to figure out what's wrong, something like this if possible?
ty for the request!!!! this is a little longer than i expected but who cares! enjoy some bellaaa:)
-hurt/comfort, bit of angst, pining, cliche confession lol, fem reader
it hurts you to ignore her this way.
she’s your friend.
best friend. for god knows how long.
and best friends are supposed to be there for each other. to help, and support, and care for one another when no one does. it's the principle — and you shouldn't want for more.
(you shouldn't want to hold her hand when you'd walk side by side. you shouldn't want to push the stranded curls off her forehead and stare deep into the umber of her eyes until everything dissipates and you're both left floating into this void; you shouldn't want to kiss him suddenly when he smiles. and you definitely shouldn't want to wake up beside him every morning and tell him that you love him.)
the thing is, they're normalized now. everyone does it when they know everything remains platonic. but you don't want to hurt yourself that way knowing he didn't feel the same. you couldn't bear the heartbreak.
so when you dawned upon that realization, or maybe when you've come to terms with the fact that the devil on your shoulder was right—that you're in love with him—you'd gone insane. your mind filled to the brim with possibilities of what might happen if you told him the truth. and each one increased the anxiety in your chest even more.
you tried to act like everything was okay. you acted normal around them . you talked like you used to. hung out like you used to. bella would hang an arm around your shoulders, rub her knuckle on your hair and laugh with you like you used to.
up until last week.
the picture of him with some girl on social media and articles. bella with a smile so bright it's familiar, and you realize that she’d only smile that way when she’s with you. and god, she’s laughing with a girl. a pretty girl; it's mind fucking to be hurt this way by just staring at an un consented image.
you drowned in unreasonable jealousy. because why should you be jealous if he's not yours? why should you be jealous in the first place? you fool yourself. you're only jealous because he didn't spend time with you, not because he was with some girl.
some girl.
some pretty girl.
and while you wallow in self-pity, you ignore them. for both your sakes. before you do something that could ruin everything.
bella does their nightly texts — hey! how are you? and you'd respond curtly than go on a long rant. obviously he'd wonder what's wrong, but he'd let it go on the first night.
hey, what's up?
hey can we talk?
hey i miss you :(
until three nights later when you flat out ignored her and it had gotten to the point she started texting your friends. and the same reason was used: you're busy. you're asleep. your phone died. you're out of town for work.
you're in love with her and got stupidly jealous at the sight of her someone else.
so it brings her here.
a week later, outside your door with nothing but questions formed from his confusion and frustration. bella knows you're by the door looking through the peephole by your shadow beneath the minuscule gap beneath the door. you see her sigh heavily, holding back an eyeroll.
"i know you're there, (y/n),"
"fuck," you whisper, standing back on your heels and let your hands fall and raise between your side and the doorknob.
"just— let me in, please? i just want to talk." you hear him sigh faintly. "please?"
you take a huge deep of breath, hand shaking as you twist the doorknob. you're first greeted by the cold air from the hallways, before your eyes land on bella’s hunched figure. covered solely in a pair of blue sweats and a white shirt, her chain hung on her neck.
"hey," he exhales, relieved. "thank god you're alive. thought someone might have kidnapped you and pushed you off a cliff.
you frown. "well, that's specific."
bella comes in when you step aside to make way. he removes his shoes, placing them beside the door as he wipes his feet on the mat. "i was worried." he says. "until i saw you hanging out with our friends while you were ignoring my texts."
it's amusing how quick her tone changed, almost as if she hadn't been worried in the first place as she quickly returns to being irritated by your ignorance. you shrug. "i- i was busy."
"busy with what?" despite the irritation, their voice remains soft, their patience speaking for them.
"work," you laugh a little, tone pitched as you hand waves in the air. "i was busy with work. and- and catching up with others. that's all." bella furrows his eyebrows. "sorry if i ignored your texts. i'm...i'm sorry."
"that's okay," he murmurs. "just wished you would have told me. i thought that i might have done something to make you mad. i was worried."
he's only saying that because he's my friend. best friend.
"sorry," you say again. "just got caught up with things,”
"yeah with partying," it's obvious that he's bitter. and somehow, it pisses you off that he's pissed off for being ghosted. "didn't even bother to invite me,"
you scoff, turning around. "why would i invite you if you're with some girl?"
it was a sarcastic remark, your mouth speaking before you could think. your voice meant to fool her into thinking that it meant nothing. but bella knows what's up—especially with the strain in your voice as you said the last word that was followed by a sardonic chuckle. her face falls, furrowing her eyebrows at you.
"what are you talking about?"
you clear your throat, scratching your forehead. "i dunno. it's social media bella. one day you're in a famous show and the next people with cameras follow you around."
bella frowns. "what?"
"come on," you spin around to face him again, laughing incredulously at him. "people saw you with a girl. who you've been with for the past week. so why would i invite you?"
"because i'm your friend!"
"you were with some girl!"
"that doesn't even make any sense!"
their voice raises, but not loud enough that it hurts your ears. your face wrinkles, throat swallowing your words that the only thing that leaves your mouth are defensive scoffs as your hand drops to your side, turning back around to walk somewhere. "you- you were busy."
"bullshit—hey!," bella pivots his way in front of you, blocking your way to your bedroom, hands on either side of the doorframe.
"don't lie to me, (y/n). look- if i did something that hurt you, or made you pull away from me, just tell me. please?"
she’s desperate now, affliction in her plea. a heavy rock rises to your throat, hands to a fist on your sides. bella’s eyebrows raise, leaning down slightly as if to encourage you to speak. confined with the difficulty to choose between the truth or not, and you sigh heavily.
"you did nothing, okay?" you shrug his hands off, your index finger picking at the skin beside your thumbnail. "everything's fine. it's my fault. "
"then talk to me," he adjures, his hands clueless as to where it should be. "please? if—if you want some space for whatever it is that happened, fine. just tell me, and i'll give you that space.”
her patience makes your heart ache, because you feel guilty for lying to the person so tolerant and understanding. you hear the desperation in her voice. loud and sad as it yearns for your truth to feed his clueless mind, worried of the wrong she didn't do. you look away from bella, at the wall where you trace its small bumps, and you huff.
"it was because of the girl,"
bella’s back straightens, his bottom lip jutting out slightly as his eyebrows return to its place. and suddenly he's perplexed. "oh. why?"
"i—"
"do you not want me to hang around her?" he asks. "are you jealous that i spent the week with her...?"
"no! no, i don't want to be telling you who you should hang out with. and no, why would i be jealous?" the white face paint's beneath the sink, and there's a red wig in your closet, 'cause you look like a fucking clown.
bella scoffs. "then what is it?"
"god, okay, maybe i was a little jealous," you quip, throwing your hands in the air. "maybe- maybe i got upset that my best friend's with another girl. but not because she's taking up his time, but because she's pretty! pretty enough that i'm jealous of you? no, but could be 'cause she is hot. but yes, i could be if i didn't like—“
you pause, your brain telling you you've been talking too much, because bella’s got her head ducked and eyebrows raised to listen. and if you looked closely, her lips are twitched up slightly in bemusement. you close your mouth, glaring at her.
"if you didn't like?" he smirks. "you like someone."
"no i don't."
"yes you do."
"what makes you say that?"
"you said it."
"like can mean anything. i mean, i like your mom because she's nice. i like you because you're my friend. like doesn't mean like like, because i like anyone. and liking anyone doesn't mean i like like them."
"what?"
"fuck!" there's a boulder in your throat, hard and prevents the air from slipping through. you don't find his amusement entertaining, and you're trying to swallow that rock down your throat while he's looking at you like that.
— all innocent and happy, eyes wide as they stare at you like, like you're important.
like they’re in love with you.
they’re not.
bella’s smile falls, noticing the tears at your waterline that makes your eyes all glossy.
"hey. what's wrong? is it something i said?"
"no," you push him aside, stepping into your room and sitting on the bed right in the middle. "it's not your fault. it's never been your fault," the heel of your palms are pressed against your eyes. you hear him shuffle until you feel him kneeling in front of you, gentle hands wrapping around your wrists.
"then what is it?"
you whimper. and when she tugs your hands off your eyes and replaces it with her own thumbs, letting your fat tears wet her calloused skin, it makes your heart hurt even more, with the fact that she’s so gentle and caring.
"i like you,"
three words. something he's heard before but not in the way that he thinks. "yeah, i know. i like you too."
"no, bel," you close your eyes, nails lightly scratching at the bracelet on his left wrist. "i like you."
there's a soft sigh that leaves them that begins the silence between the two of you. the way their hand stays on your face but weakens in the slightest; the way her eyes narrow in anxiousness as they waited for your confession. you mistake this his silence as disgust — that you'd liked your best friend as something more. and you wonder what would have happened if you told her that you loved her.
you didn't have to. because you spoke again. "i...love you."
it's what makes him fully remove his hands on your face, feeling the burn his touch left behind (or maybe it was just the sudden sweat on his palms). he sits down on the carpet, cross legged, a soft thump of denim to wool. bella breaks his eyes away from you to look at your knees in a quiet state of shock. his lips parted in the slightest.
"oh..."
"you know what," you sniffle, licking your lips as you stand up, wiping your tears with the side of your hand. "i'm just gonna go."
bella, who's still processing everything, looks up at you. "you live here."
"i didn't say i was gonna leave for good, dumbass—"
you're startled with the sudden feeling of her lips on yours, befuddled with her speed from sitting to standing. bella holds your face in his hands, flesh rough but touch gentle as he keeps you close to him. and your eyes are open, sense of touch heightened that you can feel every fibre of her as she pressed her mouth harder against yours that it renders your eyes shut and your hands on the softness of her hair.
his mouth opens to part yours, his breath fanning on your face and some into your mouth, his forehead resting against yours. bella’s thumbs drag across the dark circles beneath your eyes, his eyebrows furrowing before he lets out a chuckle.
"i'm sorry," they murmur. “i just kissed you,"
you open your eyes. "it's alright,"
your hand drags from his shoulder to his chest, watching as he slowly looks at you.
dark eyes bright with glee, a ring of doting arousal on the corner of their irises. bella angles your face back, neck straining slightly so they’d get a better view of you. "i like, well, i love you too."
they chuckle when a slow smile comes to your face. "really?"
"fuck yeah" he wrinkles his nose. "i've loved you since that first chemistry read"
before you respond, she kisses you again, a deep inhalation of your scent as her nose dig on your face. her lips are soft, cherry, hot and feverish when they move with yours and break in a soft click.
"you're amazing," she murmurs. "beautiful," a kiss, "smart," another, "unfathomably lovely," and a last. "i love you. that girl you saw? she's just a friend. she's nothing compared to you."
you shake your head, laughing. "christ in hell, bella."
"i love you," he repeats. "yeah? i'd post it on instagram or whatever. i love you."
"i get it—"
"i love you."
"i know," you kiss his nose. "i love you too."
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Mizu headcannons
Warnings: panic attacks, nightmares, mizu being a dick in the beginning
a/n: every day I wake up and check tumblr to see if anyone has posted a new mizu fanfic so I have stupidly decided to take it into my own hands 🥲/j
- ⚔ - enjoy my lovelies - ⚔ -
• mizu is definitely very distant during the beginning of yalls friendship/relationship, mostly because she doesn't want to be hurt again (m*k*io)
•she also will try to push you away later on like, showing you her scars, revealing she's a woman, and js showing all her flaws (not all of them all of them but most) in an attempt to scare you away
•you both still love each other in a friendly way like when her clothes get cut up you sew them together, when she's hurt/sick you'll do everything in your power to heal her/protect her until she's better and vice versa
• while she does try and scare you away with her flaws she also tries to show you she doesn't care abt you by kinda being a bitch
As I walked behind her, I wasn't aware of the hole in the ground covered by snow and leaves, I ended up tripping falling into her back.
"Watch it!"
She said in an angry tone, glaring at me as I looked up to her from the snow.
"Get up, we don't have any time to take naps"
She sneered.
"I clearly wasn't taking a nap, I fell, you don't have to be such a bitch about it"
I said under my breath.
"What did you say?"
She said, almost seething.
"Didn't say anything"
I shrugged... she simply glared at me before turning back to the road, mumbling about me under her breath.
• she definitely becomes more bitchier once she realizes she has a crush on you
• when she realizes she has a crush on you she kinda freaks out, telling herself there's no way you would ever like her back because you were both women
•she tries to push you away even more when she realizes but you don't budge, mostly because you know why she's trying to push you away (I mean cmon, girl can't hide her feelings for shit tbh 😭)
• once you realize 'oh shit she likes me' you DEFINITELY tease the ever-loving shit out of her but in a low key way
I walked beside mizu into the crowd of people, we had just arrived in a town near kohana, mizus old village, after visiting her sword father. The crowd seemed to basically part once mizu stept through, making way for the 'man' but the second mizu passed all I felt was shoulders bumping me and pushing me away from her.. at least that was my excuse.
I grabbed her hand as to stay near her, pulling myself towards her and wrapping my arm around hers.
"What are you doing?" She said in a low angry tone, though the subtle blush creeping onto her cheeks proved her tone other wise.
"Trying to stay on my feet without being pushed down, why is there something wrong?" I said with a slight smirk, raising my eyebrow at the 'samurai not samurai'
•you are definitely the first to confess feelings for mizu, but mizu is the first to initiate the kiss
•she's taken of guard by you telling her how much/long you love her
•her eyes kinda brimmed w tears when you confessed because she was so used to the feeling of never being loved
•when you fist kissed she was definitely very passionate when it came to it, being the touch starved woman she is 😌 for ex: she would push you down onto the cot (small bed) and make out with you like you were her last meal, she would definitely leave marks but it would stay at that, nothing nsfw....... yet.
•when you too finally become a 'couple' mizu is like 1000% more protective of you, always has to have her hands on you, whether it be in a crowd, the forest, a brothel, or even a tea house, if any danger comes the first thing on her mind is to protect you and vice versa
• she's definitely a cuddler, like she has had damn near no loving touch in her life so when she finally dates you, she can't keep her hands off
•she isn't big on pda since she has to protect her identity and being vulnerable in any way in public is js asking for danger
•but she would still keep her hands near you, whether it be around your waist, your arm, or your hand
•she has a few nicknames for you. Ex: honey, baby, love, and doll or dove bit that's only special occasions 😌
• she's also definitely the type to get jealous, she can't stand when your around taigen because of his flirty nature, ofc if you wanted to be friends with him, she wouldn't stop you, she doesn't want you to feel controlled or stuck
•but she'll get kinda petty abt it like she'll start ignoring you and kind of avoiding you, but you'll talk it out and everything will be fine (ik ik lazy writing don't judge 😔)
•it takes awhile for mizu to open up about her past, like allll of it, but when she does your right there holding her, stroking her hair as she tells you everything
•when mizu sleeps she tends to have nightmares alot due to her past and present (girl cannot catch a break for the life of her) so some nights she'll wake up screaming with her chest pounding, flying to her feet into a defensive position, but once her eyes adjust she'll sink onto the ground holding her chest. You'll shoot out of bed, slowly coming towards her, whispering every move your going to make to her so you don't frighten her more, once she catches her breath she'll fall into your hands, letting you pull her back to bed.
Ladies, gentlemen, and absolutely everyone else thank you for reading this, my asks are open for art reqs and any little oneshots or headcannons or literally whatever else I haven't written in ever 🥲 I hope you enjoyed, reblogs r highly appreciated!! I love yall tysm for reading 😊
-rowan
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Eddie dating Steve Harrington and being so stupidly in love from the very first moment that no one has to tell him he’s being mean for always ragging on Steve’s taste in music, films, hobbies, and that he should try giving Steve’s interests a go.
Eddie getting home from their first date (a lunch date a the newly reopened Benny’s diner) and immediately turning the TV onto whatever baseball game he can get to first.
Wayne watching him from the table where he’s drinking coffee and now ignoring the newspaper with a gobsmacked expression until Eddie very quietly asks him what the fuck is going on, and Wayne thinks he’s the one that should be asking that question. But Wayne slowly goes over the rules, who the players are and what all the jargon is; then turns the channel over to watch Chicago instead.
When Steve starts coming around it suddenly starts to make a bit more sense. But Wayne doesn’t say anything because he’s enjoying the time with Eddie where they get to share an enjoyment of something, and they haven’t been able to do that since Eddie was being navigated through adolescence by the Union music Wayne liked to listen to.
Eddie spending hours on end in the listening booth at the record store with Tears for Fears, Wham! and ABBA until he knows the records back to front and can start trying to remember the cords long enough so he can write them down at home. He can’t afford to buy all the albums he wants to learn, so he annoys (and confuses) the store clerk until he’s banned from the listening booth for a week.
Eddie answering Steve’s questions about DnD and his guitar and Dio’s discography with such a big smile on his face that his cheeks hurt. Then being so worried when Steve gets cagey about answering Eddie’s questions about his interests.
Eddie doing everything in his power to show Steve that no he’s not trying to tease him, that he would never do that because he thinks Steve has great taste. Sure it’s not what Eddie would pick himself, but Steve picked Eddie and Eddie thinks that Steve’s taste can’t be all bad if it landed him multiple dates and a smoking hot boyfriend.
Steve slowly starting to allow himself to enjoy the things he enjoys in front of Eddie. Rambling tristes on why Steve thinks The Breakfast Club was one of the greatest films ever made even though it doesn’t really have a plot, and launching into tangents about whatever his brain jumps to next.
Eddie choosing cheesy romcoms to watch for their film nights because he knows it’ll make Steve smile and Steve choosing camp slasher horrors because he knows they’re Eddie’s favourite.
Just Eddie doing things for Steve before anyone has to tell him to because he’s so in love with Steve and wants to see him smile all the time, wants him to know he’s loved.
Eddie having grown up knowing he was gay and thinking he’d never get to have a relationship like this, thinking he was destined for nothing but hookups in dirty club bathrooms. He’s not so self-centred to think Steve will be with him forever (even though he desperately hopes for it) so he has to make the most of this relationship while he has it.
Their friends being shocked when they catch Eddie humming The Winner Takes It All under his breath or when he name drops a basketball player he shouldn’t otherwise know, and Eddie just shrugging and casually saying stuff like “Steve likes it” or “Steve was talking about him the other day”.
The Hellfire guys very seriously asking Eddie if Steve had him under a spell because the Eddie they knew would never be interested in pop culture or sports. And Eddie laughing, saying “He’s definitely cast a spell on me but nothing malicious. I’m just in love.”
And the party knowing not to bash Steve’s interests when Eddie was around because he’d threaten their DND characters lives and their backup characters lives until they got the hint.
Eddie apologising to Lucas because he didn’t get it before but he does now.
Eddie and Steve being obnoxiously in love and utterly unbearable sometimes but no one could say anything because they all just wanted the best for each other in the end.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#my fic#kinda#Steve and Eddie cramming themselves in the listening booth together to listen to whatever new album either of them is excited about#and sneaking kisses when the store clerk isn’t looking
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THE SERIES
: THOUSAND YEARS
Gun Park x Fem!Reader
A/N : this is my first EVER writing and my first language is not english, so if it's bad I'll try to fix it as much as I can, but for now this is what I got. If a lot of you guys like it, I'll make sure to keep writing.
Starting with 14 years old Gun (with no UI) to 20 :)
This? Just a Prologue. Gun is a bit ooc sry
—
Yamazaki Yuzuru.
The man that got feared by all. Who knew he would have such a soft spot for a simple woman like you?
You were his everything since the beginning.
The Yakuza clan of his back in Japan, always been the villain in everybody eyes. Sometimes he hated how all the eyes were looking at him while he's walking down the hallway of the school.
God, how he just wanted to snap at them
But you.
You were . . Different
Since the day that you came into the school, looking all innocent. All those soft smiles and those sweet laugh of yours when all the others kids making friends with you, and complimenting you.
Since the day you sat down next to him in the class, trying to make friends with him. Not knowing who he is. Like really? Does this girl knows anything?
" I already tell you my name " You said, still trying to make friends with him for the last 10 minutes.
" Yuzuru " is all he answer.
But when you gave him that stupid gorgeous smile of yours. He couldn't help but glance at you once more, admiring thoes innocent eyes.
He knew you'll stay away from him when the rumors about his clan spread across the school. Why? Because everybody does.
What he didn't expect is that even all the rumors of the Yamazaki Clan spread all around school, into your little innocent, peaceful mind. You still talk to him.
He was surprised, and impressed even though he didn't wanted to admit.
You still sitting next to him in class. Offering him your pen when he forgot his. Wanting to sit together while having lunch. Even fixing his tie when he was too busy focusing on you something else.
Eventually you became friends.
Both you and him don't remember how long but. .
Long enough you make him fall in love with you.
His first thought, was that it's was just a simple crush, nothing much really! There's nothing wrong with how you offering him your pen and giving him that smile of yours. There's nothing wrong with how you laugh when he tries to help you with your works but ended up forgetting to done his. There's nothing wrong with how his heart skipped a beat when you walk side by side with him and your fingers lingering with his.
There's nothing wrong, right?
Hah yes. Yes, there's something wrong.
All of those feelings were gettig stronger at that one evening that he decided to walk you home after school again.
He wasn't worry oh yes he was, he just thought maybe he could do a little walk before going home.
But when you reach your home and you turn around to give him a little pecks on his cheek, whispering those three words into his ears. He freezes.
Even when you went into your house, closing the door shut. He's still standing there, thinking what just happened.
And when he got home. He couldn't stop thinking about you. He knew in the morning he needed to ask you about the kiss that you gave him that evening, but for now he needs some rest.
The sun rises and as usual he was waiting for you at the gate. Waiting to see does innocent eyes light up everytime you see him, or those stupidly gorgeous smile of yours when he walk into class with you.
But instead, you never came.
He was worried. Did something happened? Did you wake up late? Were you called in sick? He needed to check on you.
So, he decided to walked to your home, where he left you yesterday evening.
And when he went there. .
His heart breaks in to millions pieces.
There were police officers everywhere, all the neighbors around the streets freaking out, and your mother and father . . are on their knees crying.
And you were.
You were dead.
The report said there's a robbery happenedat midnight, your parents were working all night that they didn't have time to check on you.
Of course you did locked all the doors and windows but. . Criminals these days aren't stupid.
His fist clenched with rage. Anger fills in his chest.
He didn't have time to confess. Why did you have to leave so soon?
God pray for those men, cause he'll hunt down those fuckers who messed what was his.
All he wanted to do was to walk up to your now colded body and wrapped his arms around yours, not wanting to let you go.
But real eyes, realize.
If he really did love you, he'll let you go.
So, he did.
He turned around, and walk away from the scene. Fuck the school. He was going to find those fuckers first.
Before he could go anywhere further, he stopped. Glancing back at your body. Opening and closing his mouth, before he finally speaks.
" I love you too "
Before walking off, completely. Fading away into the shadow.
– ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ6 YEARS LATER ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—
It's was another boring days that he needed to accompany Charles's daughter, Crystal. As her bodyguard.
There's a school festival going on. Crystal wanted to see the concert, but when they got their and Crystal seem to get upset with something about the school she ended up wanting to leave.
Not before a young man who came up to talk to her. She told him that she didn't like the school, that everybody only looks on the outside more than the inside.
But when the young man tries to touch her, his hand came up wrapping around his weist tightly. " She already has enough of all of you, step aside pretty boy " He said.
Before the young man snatched his wrist out off of his. " You little– " His cursed, before the fight was about to begun.
" Daniel! " A female voice shouted out, a very familiar one. His obsidian eyes shot up to see a young woman.
Who look exactly like you.
" I'm sorry! Whatever happened really! Just let him be " You said, trying to calm both of them down. Standing between two of them but your eyes we're lock with his.
His eyes were blocked from his glasses, the light of the sun shines on it just right, but that's doesn't make his body language any harder to read.
He supposed to fight back, he supposed to say something and threatening both of you, but instead. He freezes.
As you gently tilt your head to the side waiting for him to say anything.
Before Crystal came up and accept the apologies, and also apologize for saying something mean to Daniel, she was just a bit upset from what she sees.
You nodded, and accept her apologies as well. You were about to open your mouth and say something in return, before a man voice shot up.
" Tell me your name " The man who was just attacking Daniel before asked.
You gave him a questioning look before you gave him your name.
And he freezes even more.
Aren't you. . Aren't you're dead?
Before he could ask you anything more you were already walking off with that young man, Crystal was trying to asked if he was okay but he only gave her a simple nodded.
But when he glances at you once more, admiring those gorgeous smiles and does innocent eyes that he missed so much.
He knew he still has his chance.
He just need to make you remember him. Needed to make you remember everything.
Even a thousand years, he'll always wait for you.
He'll always love you.
( It's bad, I know. I'M SORRY! IT'S MY FIRST FIC AHHHHH )
#gun park x reader#park jonggun x reader#yamazaki yuzuru x reader#gun park#park jonggun#lookism x reader#lookism
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jealousy, jealousy || Felix x f!Reader
Summary: Felix knows that he's no good for you and would do better to stay away, anyone could see that. When he's spent the night seeing you with an asshole, is it really all that surprising that he ends up snapping though?
Word count: 3.7k
Genres: college AU (implied), friends to lovers
Warnings & Tags: maxident trailer!felix, kinda bad boy!felix (but also not), jealousy (duh), kissing, bad language, kinda toxic situation?, reader feels pressured due to someone having feelings for her
series masterlist
Felix knows it’s not healthy to stand there and stare from across the room. He knows that he has no right to, knows that even if his fists itch with the urge to fight when he sees the way Noah totally-not-casually stretches his arm over the back of the couch to put it around your shoulders, there’s nothing he can or should do. He tells himself that the only reason why it pisses him off so much is because he knows you’re not interested in the guy — fuck, he wishes that were true. It would make him the good guy in this situation, instead of just some jealous asshole watching from the sideline.
He takes a swig from his beer, but he’d need much stronger alcohol than that to take his mind off you. He’d be better off leaving the party and wandering into some bar in search for another body to numb himself with for the night, problem is that he doesn’t even want to do that. He might have, if you’d been alone, but right now, seeing Noah being fucking oblivious to everything, from your body language to your fake smile, there’s some protective instinct growling in his chest.
He doesn’t do anything though. All of your friends — yours, Felix’s and Noah’s, that is, ‘cause things would be much simpler if you weren’t all in the same friend group and you can’t have that, can you — think you and Noah would be ‘so cute’ together. They say that it’s ‘just a matter of time’, they assume that you’re just oblivious and that Noah’s just shy, they believe, no, they know for sure that you’re meant to be.
They’re vaguely aware of the fact that there’s something between you and Felix, but that’s easy to shrug off. Felix isn’t a bad guy, they say, but he’s not the type you date. He’s always there for his friends, and he’s good to have around if shit goes south when you’re out clubbing, but the girls he fucks are there for a good time, not a long time. And you, well, you’re a good girl, the type of girls that think they can fix him, the type he doesn’t even hook up with anymore because he ends up breaking their heart a little too much.
Finally, he pushes himself away from the wall and walks to the drinks table to get a refill. He inspects the drinks available to him. Shots would do, but it’s still a bit early and the last thing he needs is to have to answer some stupid fucking questions. Then he might actually let some violence out.
It should be concerning that the idea that he could go out and just look for a fight is more tempting to him than getting laid.
Then he feels an arm brushing against him, and he doesn’t need to look to be able to tell that it’s you, pouring a stupidly small amount of punch in your still half-filled cup.
“You were staring,” you say.
It doesn’t surprise him that you noticed. You both know that you’re a little too aware of Felix for your own good.
He leans over, reaching for a bottle of vodka that he doesn’t really want, and as he does, he comes close enough to you that he could kiss you, if he chose to. His long black hair comes to brush your cheek. He sees your eyes widen, sees you swallow, sees you press your lips together. He can’t hear your heartbeat, but he still knows it just went up. Shit, he wishes you weren’t so easy to read, he wishes he didn’t like seeing all the ways he affects you so much.
“Wanted to know if you’d said yes to that date yet,” he says, pulling away.
You roll your eyes, heaving a long, painful sigh and he feels tension leaving his body. It’s hard to feel jealous when he knows he doesn’t even have to touch you to send you in ebullition when Noah leaves you so profoundly indifferent.
Still, Noah does get to touch you. He gets to be around you without people coming up to him to tell him that that’s ‘not a good idea’. Fuck, he knows for a fact that your friends have been trying to arrange an ‘accidental’ date with him.
“I don’t know why he hasn’t gotten the hint,” you mumble. “I’ve said no so many times.”
“You’re being too nice,” Felix shrugs. “Gotta get meaner.”
“Well, I’m not programmed that way.”
“Can still be rewired.”
Your eyes meet, and he knows what you’re thinking about. You’re remembering what Felix used to be like, back in high school, warm and smiley and soft. If he could change from that into what he is today, everyone can.
Wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to though.
“They really need to stop encouraging him,” you say. “I’ve told him I didn’t want to go on a date with him, you know? But everyone thinks I’ll just realize some day that he’s been there for me all along.”
Speaking of, Felix risks a glance in Noah’s direction. He’s chatting with some people, but every now and then he looks at the two of you. He is more subtle than Felix was, he’s got to give him that.
“Have you thought about going on one date with him?” Felix asks, even if the thought of it makes him want to tear his own heart out.
There’s a moment of silence, before you look up at him. There’s an eerie calm to your eyes, and it’s an expression he knows all too well. Every single time he’s seen it, he’s felt like you could see straight into his soul.
“Would you like it if I went on a date with him?”
Fuck.
He looks away, clears his throat, but he knows you’ve caught his expression.
The fact that he has some type of feeling towards you is an open secret between the two of you anyway, but he’s not supposed to— Fuck.
You shake your head.
“I don’t want to go on even one date with him,” you say, clearly annoyed. “If I did, I’d probably be dating him be now. I think not going out with him should make that clear enough.”
Then you’re walking away, and Felix notices Noah jumping to his feet, following in the same direction as you. He also gives him a nasty glance, and in any other situation, that would be a good enough reason for him to beat the shit out of him. Right now, though, he holds back.
Fuck it. It’s late enough for shots.
It’s 4 am when he sees you again. Your conversation happened over 6 hours ago, basically a lifetime. Felix’s gotten wasted and he’s well on his way back to feeling sober again, significantly helped by the two pizzas he’s scarfed down. He might also have slept an hour on the couch at some point, he can’t say for sure. His head hurts, but he’s definitely had worse.
He’s out on the balcony, smoking, when you step out. You shiver in the cold air of the night, but you endure it and take your spot next to him, leaning against the railing. It’s kinda your thing, at this point, you joining him when he’s out smoking, but there wasn’t so much tension hanging in the air before.
Or maybe there was, he can’t tell all that well anymore. He could see in your eyes, even back then, that you were interested, but you were a friend, kinda, a distant one, and he didn’t hook up with his friends. It probably means it’s his fault for changing the status quo. It usually is, even if he’s not too sure what he’s done wrong this time.
Ultimately, the dead end you’re both stuck in is no one’s fault. He doesn’t do relationships; you don’t do one-night stands or friends with benefits. Anyway, you probably know him well enough now — as he is now, that is, not the kid he was when you first met— to know that it’s a bullshit idea.
“Got rid of the dog?” Felix asks, blowing out a puff of smoke.
“Don't call him that,” you say, though your tone isn’t particularly upset. “He went out with some of the guys to get drugs for the hangovers.”
How considerate.
“You had a good time?”
A silence.
“I really need to stop agreeing to come to these.”
“Or you could just ditch him once and for all.”
He sees your fingers tighten around the railing.
“If I do that, I’ll make it awkward and I’ll be an idiot who doesn’t know what's good for her. If I don’t, I’m leading him on and I’m a bitch. No matter what, the issue comes from me, and not from the fact that he refuses to hear what I'm saying.”
You’re shaking. It might just be the cold, might not be. Either way, Felix knows he shouldn’t be doing anything about it. Give you his coat, maybe, or go get yours. Instead, he steps behind you, wrapping his arms around you, pressing his chest against your back. Goosebumps form on the back of your neck, but you don’t move away. He feels a trembling breath going through you, before slowly, ever so slowly, you lean back against him.
It’s late anyway, no one’s there to see it, no one’s going to lecture you. You both know it’s not for the best, but in the last hours of the night, it doesn’t seem like such a terrible idea.
It seems like a why not.
You’re cold, he knows that for sure now, but he doesn’t reach for your hands so he can warm them in his. That would be crossing the line. He’s toeing it now, for sure, but he can’t go that far.
You move your head, and your cheek ends up pressed against his. He’s the one to freeze this time. He hopes you won't cross the line — not because he’ll have to stop you, but because he knows he won’t. He’s too selfish for that.
“All I’ve done is not want to date him,” you say. “I don’t have to want to date him.”
“Why d’you not want to?”
In the moment, he’s not sure why he asks, or maybe he is. He is sure that he doesn’t like that it leads you to tear yourself away from him, though.
“You know why. Don’t be a dick, Felix,” your quiet voice loud against the night sky, and you’re looking right into his eyes, with intent. The breath is almost knocked out of him then as things unsaid fill the air, but one thing remains: it’s because of him.
Lots of things go through his mind then, things he doesn’t dwell on. The one he’s the quickest to dismiss it the happiness. He’s hurting you right now. It’s so fucking selfish that there’s even a tiny part of him that’s happy about this — and if he was honest with himself, he’d admit that it certainly isn’t that tiny. He buries his hands in his pockets, clears his throat.
“That doesn’t have to be an issue.” It isn't for him.
“It is for me.” You let out a brief laugh, only half-amused, and your eyes soften. “We’ve established that, haven’t we?”
Yeah. He supposes you have.
“Want me to walk you home?” he asks, because he doesn’t know what to say anymore. His voice sounds thick. He knows it’s a bad idea to offer, you know it’s a bad idea to accept. Yet you nod.
“That might be smart,” you say. “It’s way past my bedtime anyways.”
You smile, and the whole world becomes softer.
“C’mon. Get your coat.”
He can’t give you what you want, but he can make sure that you get home safely.
It’s still cold when you walk outside, but this time you’re engulfed in a big coat and you don't need him to warm you up anymore. Still, you grimace and bury your face behind your scarf. He wants to boop your nose, holds back, but he does turn away from you because the big smile the sight brings to his face is embarrassing.
“Are you making fun of me?” you ask, not sounding very threatening from under all those layers of clothing.
“I would never,” he lies. “You ready?”
You shrug, but follow after him. You never seem to hesitate when you’re walking through the city late at night with him. He knows you wouldn’t do it alone, would probably not do it with a bunch of other people, but you’d said, once, that he made it look easy, and he supposes that’s true. He’s used to the late nights, and though he’s made his fair share of bad encounters around that time, it doesn’t really scare him anymore, hasn’t for a long time actually. Before he met you — or, well, met you again anyway.
Maybe it worries him a little bit, but he makes up for it in confidence. You can see it in his walk, the long strides, the way his shoulders fall back, the hands in his pockets. The black leather jacket also helps, gives the vibe that he’s not someone you want to fuck with, and he isn’t. He’s gotten in — and won — enough fights to ensure that. That’s the kind of thing people can tell, if they know what to look for.
You don’t know what to look for. You don’t seem to have ever regarded him as a threat, which he’s maybe a little peeved about. He thinks it’s mostly because you know him from before. That probably makes him lose a shit ton of credibility.
He doesn’t completely hate it, though. Sometimes, surprisingly, the softness is even… welcome. Sometimes, you put your hand on his arm or his shoulder, and he’s reminded of how much he craves that touch, and he knows you know that, because you used to know him.
Shit, he needs to stop that. He always gets sappy before sunrise.
“Thank you for walking me home,” you say.
Yeah, well, he likes that better than letting your friends push you into the arms of fucking Noah once again, so…
“I drank too much to drive you,” he shrugs.
“And he’s responsible,” you sigh dramatically. He can’t help but grin. Damn, he’s really ruining his reputation every time he’s with you.
“Shut up.”
There’s no animosity in his voice. You fall in step next to him, both of you silent. Your shoulders brush sometimes, but your hands, like his, are resolutely buried in your pockets. Seems like you’re both trying to be on your best behavior tonight.
It’s for the best, obviously, but he’s still kinda disappointed.
Then someone shouts your name, and the night suddenly goes from not great to pretty fucking terrible.
Of course you’d run into Noah and the rest of the group, coming back from the nearby store. Why the fuck wouldn’t you.
“Hey,” you say as Noah rushes across the street to you. You’re smiling genuinely, but that smile tightens when Noah looks at Felix suspiciously. He acts like he believes Felix put a fucking gun to your head to make you come out with him.
“Hey,” he says, “are you going home? If you give me a second, I’ll—”
“It’s okay, Felix is taking me,” you interrupt him.
If that isn’t music to his ears, he doesn’t know what is.
“But I can take you,” Noah says.
See, that’s what Felix doesn’t fucking get. Sure, you didn’t say “Felix is taking me because I want him to and also I would never ever fuck you”, but he has to have realized that by now, right? You’ve declined every time he’s tried to go on a date with you, you’ve never initiated anything… And, yeah, he’s heard that technically Noah’s never called them ‘dates’, so from his perspective, maybe you didn’t know but— Come on.
He also suspects that Noah knows very well that you’re much more interested in Felix than in him. He wonders if — believes, lowkey — that feeds into some weird, deluded savior fantasy in which he makes you realize that he was the good guy that was there for you all along.
Okay, he might be a bit cynical on that one.
“It’s all good,” you shake your head. You’re clearly not sure about how to get yourself out of this situation without outright telling him that you don’t want him to take you home. It would be much simpler if you did that, but to you, hurting someone’s feelings, even for good reason, is basically a cardinal sin.
Unfortunately, Felix understands that feeling a little too well.
He throws an arm around your shoulders, shoots a grin at Noah. Ha, it’s payback, dickhead.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get her home safe, man. Just enjoy your night.”
Noah clearly hesitates to add something, but you don’t move away from Felix, and he eventually lowers his gaze, visibly dejected.
“Alright. You guys stay safe. Text me when you get home, okay?”
“Sure,” you chirp, and Felix can tell, from that one word, that you already feel bad for the guy.
Ugh.
“Are you mad at me?” he asks you point blank once Noah’s gone.
“It would be shitty if I was when you’re helping me out,” you sigh. “I just— sometimes I wish I liked him, you know? It would be so much simpler.”
It feels like a bucket of ice has been dropped down his back, but he doesn’t let it show. Yeah. He’s a pretty terrible choice of person to like, he’s well aware of that.
“Then why don’t you just go on that date?” he asks, maybe a little more aggressively than he’d like. “Maybe you would like him.” Eventually, anyway.
He knows he’s thought about you doing that. The idea keeps him awake at night sometimes, terrifies him. Isn’t it so fucked up of him, to refuse to start anything with you but to still want you to like him better than the other options?
“I wouldn’t,” you just say. “I’d be miserable.”
And you’re probably right.
“Hey,” Felix says as the silence grows and you look more and more upset every second that passes, “wanna see the sun rise on the Han river?”
“See, that wasn't so hard,” he says when you drop on a bench. You glare at him, but you look somewhat amused. Distracted, at least. That’s what happens when you hop in the first subway of the day, where you’re surrounded by workers going to their honest job and then rush through the park all the way to the river to find a good spot. Takes your mind off things.
“I like it here,” you comment quietly.
You’ve seen a few people running in the park, probably trying to get their morning jog in before going to work. There are also one or two old people, walking with their hands clasped together behind their backs, here for the same reason as you perhaps. It’s quiet, unusually so for Seoul. The sky is starting to lighten, pink on the horizon, and the birds are starting to chirp shyly.
There are worse ways to start the day.
Your eyes keep fluttering shut though. Your head nods forward, before you jerk it up, blink yourself awake, and then rinse and repeat. It’s cute, but Felix can’t have you fall asleep here.
“Hey.”
He's mainly trying to get your attention when he leans over you, setting one hand on the back of the bench on either side of you. But then you blink, and he meets your eyes, and he still leans closer, even as your eyes widen and your lips part. He grins.
“Breathe,” he says, and he doesn’t move away.
You take in a slow breath, eyes not leaving his once. You’ve mentioned before, in passing, that you liked his freckles. He wonders if that's what you’re thinking about right now. Even as the seconds stretch, you’re still not making any movement to get away from him. He knows he should, fuck, you both know you should, but you make bad choices when it comes to him and he’s a piece of shit with no self-control.
When he kisses you, you let out a soft noise, almost like a sigh of relief, like you’ve been waiting for that all night long. He forbids himself from touching you, knuckles turning white with how tightly he holds on to the bench, knows that’s a slippery slope he won't come back from without hurting you, and he doesn’t want to hurt you, for fuck's sake.
You don't have that issue though, and both of your hands come up to his face. You touch him like he’s precious, fingertips oh so softly tracing his jaw, one hand cupping his cheek as your thumb brushes over his cheekbone. The other one runs trough his hair, settling against his neck. Your cold nose brushes against his and he can feel your lips curving into a smile.
He feels your tongue against his lips, and really, it’s without thinking that he parts them. If he did, he’d realize that it’s just a bad idea. Instead, it doesn’t hit him until he leans a little more into you, hungrily kissing you back. You gasp softly into him, hand coming to his shoulder, but in no way pushing him back. It’s when he hears you whimper that he pulls away. It seems that knowing how you sound is about the worst thing that could happen to him. His imagination already supplies him with enough suggestions when he’s alone to torture him plenty.
He lets himself fall on the bench next to you, probably closer than he should be. You collect yourself, breathing a little too quick, and clear your throat awkwardly, putting your hands back in your lap like a good girl. You look around, seem somewhat relieved to see there was no spectator. Both of you are clearly attempting to act like nothing’s happened, like you always do after a slip-up.
“Oh,” you laugh after a few seconds. “We’ve missed the sunrise.”
He doesn’t mind.
okayyyy, sooo, there is kinda lore™ for this story because I've had an iteration of that in my mind for so long because i'm obsessed with maxident trailer!felix and i wish we'd gotten more of him, so if you want me to talk about it (or if you would have liked for felix to have punched noah in the face), feel very free to tell me i'd be happy to talk about this. ideally i'll see you tomorrow for han's part, but more likely it'll be out in 2-3 days. as always, if you liked the story it would mean the world if you reblogged or commented ❤️ thank yo for reading!
#stray kids#felix#lee felix#lee yongbok#felix x reader#lee felix x reader#stray kids imagine#stray kids angst#felix angst#felix imagine#skz imagine#skz fanfic#stray kids fanfic#felix fanfic#candywrites
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Oh Chute // Bob Floyd
Summary: For some reason you’d never know, yours and Jake personal Heaven becomes a check point for the friends you left behind. One by one the Daggers come through on their way to their forever life after death.
Warnings: Mentions of death. Blunt force trauma. F-18 accident. Bob Floyd Angst.
Word Count: 2.5k
Author Note: This is a spin off Series to Bruises. Masterlist Tagged below.
Bruises Masterlist | Life After Death Masterlist
Name: Robert Floyd: Age: 36 Cause Of Death: Blunt Force Trauma sustained via fall.
***~***~***~***~****~***~***~**
“Where the hell am I?” Robert Floyd had no idea where the hell he was. One minute he was in the cockpit, sitting behind Phoenix like he had done for years, and then? He was in a field somewhere in the middle of nowhere. His head hurt, a lot. But when he came to with a mouth full of dirt he knew something had to be wrong. Very wrong.
“Oi.” Jake Seresin loved golden hour. It was his favorite time of the day. When the sun would kiss the horizon and leave a beautiful golden hume across the fields that seemed never ending. Rolling plains of green lush fields that were all his, all yours. Your own silence of paradise.
“Hotshot!” Jake snapped at the Boxer whose hair stuck up along his spine. His bark was just that, all bark and no bite. “I’m gonna get your vocal cords clipped if you don’t cut it out man.” It’s an empty threat that the Boxer dog has heard a billion times before—and it always seems to fall on deaf ears. Hotshot kept barking in the direction of where he’d sensed danger looming. “Dammit—!”
Jake stood from where he was crouching to fix the broken wire on the fence that bordered what he could only assume was another property. Someone else’s slice of heaven. He hadn’t ever seen what was beyond the rolling hills, but he didn’t care all that much. He already had everything he ever needed and more.
“Hello!? Is anyone here!?”
“Huh?” Jake frowned when he saw it, a figure dragging a parachute across the field in his direction. “Ain’t no way—“ Jake shook his head and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. He pocketed the gloves he’d been wearing and took a few cautionary steps closer to the figure that grew closer and closer. Until he knew for sure who he was seeing:
“Floyd?” It comes out a little bit questionable and albeit hesitant because Jake isn’t sure why exactly he was seeing Bob on his property. “Bob? Is that you?” He calls out again. “Oh fuckk—this can’t be good.” Jake says that last part to himself, he knows that the only people here are already dead or figments of his imagination.
Bob freezes in his tracks, it had been a few years since he’d heard that unforgettable voice. It’s Jake, it’s Hangman. Bob can only just make out the blonde hair and the stupidly symmetrical physique, but regardless of the distance he knows it’s Jake Seresin. Oh crap. He’d fallen asleep before training hadn’t he? He was asleep in the red room right this very second, dreaming of a friend he lost not too many years back.
“Hangman! Oh my god! What are you doing here?” Bob asks all the while he’s back on track, walking towards Jake as he makes his way over. Hotshot is already a mile ahead and at Bob's feet in no time, wagging his tail and licking Bob's hand. A welcome fit for an old friend. “Hey buddy, hi!”
Like Jake said, all bark, no bite.
“Uh, I—“ Jake knows he should probably approach this conversation carefully. If Bobs here then there’s only one real explanation as to why. He’s dead. “I live here.” Jake rubs at the back of his head as he assesses Bob's reaction. There’s hardly a flinch. “This is my home man, and you’re a long way from yours.” It doesn’t make sense, why was Robert Floyd in Jake's own personal afterlife? He didn’t understand the lore as well as you but even this was making his brain itch. Surely you’d know why?
“What do you mean you live here?” Jake can see the confusion all over Bob's face when he finally does reply. He can also see the blood creeping out of his nose. Something had gone wrong, terribly wrong. “I just ejected, my chute got tangled—“ Jakes standing there with his arms crossed just waiting for the lightbulb to turn on. Bobs a smart guy, he should be able to connect the dots. “Hang on, you died.” Bob's frowning while he looks up at Jake once again. “You died years ago. Does that mean?”
“Dead doesn’t mean done Bob.” Jake just smiles, he still wasn’t sure why Bob was here or what happened to bring Bob here, but he was thankful to see an old friend. “You might of—“ Jake doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Bob is cutting him off. Nope. Nope this can’t be happening. Bobs not dead. He’s just asleep.
“I need to get back.” Bob just shakes his head in disbelief. “I uh—I’m dreaming, yeah.” It’s his way of processing what’s happening. “I’m dreaming, yeah, yeah no I fell asleep in the rec room didn’t I?” There’s a silence that lingers in the field while Jake just looks at his old colleague, god he didn’t look a day older than the last time Jake saw the WSO.
“Sure pal.” Jake just sighs while the two men hug for what feels like the first time in a lifetime. He can feel how fast Bob's heart is racing. “Why don’t you come up to the house? I’ll fix you something to drink.” It’s the only thing Jake can think of to help settle the clearly distressed soul. Bob nods, he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s tried to wake up a few times now but damn this dream really feels real.
“Jake, is this real?” Bob nearly sobs while the two men walk back up to Jake's truck. He’d driven up to the border fence a little while ago. “Am I dead?” Jake contemplates how to handle this situation, but he settles on a little humour to take the edge off. He always did love fucking with Bob.
“As a doorknob dude.” Jake chuckles softly all the while Bob just stands there in disbelief. “You probably hit the ground hard too.'' Jake can see the colour draining from Bob's face as he takes his helmet off in the passage's seat. It’s then he sees the blood pouring out of Bob's ears. Damn. The ground must have been really hard. Jake remembers that feeling all too well. The thud, the snow. But for Bob it must have been so much worse.
“Oh god.”
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**
“Honey!” You heard Jake's boots against the hardwood floor before you saw him. He’s got that all too familiar walk that lets you know it’s him. Not that it would ever be anyone else, but right now it did sound as if there were a few extra footsteps present. “You around?”
“I’m in the kitchen with Ellie!” You cooed back. Bouncing softly while you waited for your tea to steep. “She’s just gone down for a—“ Before you could even say that your daughter had just fallen asleep against your chest in her wrap, you were rendered speechless by the scared silhouette behind your husband. “Bob?”
“Hollywood?” Bob was in more shock than you were. “Oh okay yeah now I’m definitely dreaming.” He steps past Jake and into the kitchen to give you a hug that was all too welcomed. You send your husband a frown of concern over the WSO’s shoulder and Jake confirms what you think you already know.
Robert Floyd was dead. He’d recently died or was dying as you spoke and he was in denial about it.
“Uh—Bob honey I’d say it’s good to see you but I don’t think you belong here.” You cooed with a soft expression plastered across your face. As much as you loved seeing an old friend you knew for certain that if Bob was dead he needed to get to his own forever home before he got stuck between the land of the living and the land of the dead. “What happened? What’s the last thing you remember?”
“I’ll get you a drink man.” Jake adds all the while you and Bob sit down at the dining table in the kitchen. He finishes making you your cup of tea while he listens to Bob explain the last thing he remembered before he was waking up in the middle of Jake's back paddock.
“It was just a simple training session.” Perhaps the denial was beginning to wear off, you could see how shaky Bob's hands were while he played with his cuticles and looked around the kitchen. “Something was wrong with our altitude gauge, Phoenix couldn’t keep the nose and before I knew it we were punching out.” It all happened so fast. “I pulled my chute.” Bob explained all the while his heart began to race as realisation set it. “But it wouldn’t untangle—“ Your heart just broke, Jakes too. He couldn’t imagine free falling from the sky like that—even though he kinda did. “I think I hit the ground before I could pull my secondary.”
“Bob, do you know where you are?” It was the softness in your voice and the love you held in your eyes that made Jake fall a little more in love with you. He did everyday. Not a day went by where he didn’t fall more in love with you. “Do you hear anything? See anyone?”
When you had died, all you could hear was Jake begging you to stay. The sunset was so beautiful and the homestead was so peaceful and nothing seemed to hurt, you just couldn’t stay. As much as it pained you to turn your back on the faded image of the love of your giving you CPR, you had to see what was inside the home you now shared with that very same man. He’d come racing up the driveway not a few months later.
“I think I’m in a hospital somewhere?” Bob could hear a beeping sound, like a heart monitor reading his pulse. “I don’t remember it hurting, dying that is.” Bob let his chin fall as Jake handed him a glass of water, remembering that the weapons system office didn’t drink in life so he probably wouldn’t in death. “We all missed you, both of you, so much.” It was a beautiful thing to hear, even after all this time. You knew Jake missed his friends and hoped they understood why he did what he did. He had to be with you. If he couldn’t in life then death would have to do.
“For what it’s worth?” You looked to your husband with an all knowing smile before you rubbed your thumb on Bob's hand to sooth his worried soul. “We know, but we’ve been happy this whole time.”
“I understand why you both did it, you know.” Bob added as he sniffed. “Rooster was so mad for so long but I always understood.” It made Jake's heart sink into his stomach, but hopefully he’d get the chance to say he was sorry one day. “Am I really dead?”
“I’m sorry Bob.” You didn’t know what else to say. “If you wanna come into my office with me I can probably help you figure out where you’re supposed to go from here?” You offered. “I’m not even really sure why you’re here and as much as I’ve really enjoyed getting to see you again, but, you can’t stay.”
“Where do I go then?” Bob asked softly and all the more confused. “I don’t know what I’m doing?”
“What’s your perfect world man?” Jake asked as he leaned back on the kitchen countertop. He had his, you were all Jake Seresin ever needed. “Your idea of heaven? Your forever home?” Your little girl was his forever dream. “Surely there’s something—“
Robert Floyd was silent for a moment, he thought about where he’d want to spend the rest of his forever life.
“I had this old drum set when I was a teenager.” You caught the glint in Bob's eye, he could hear the music playing. “My dad owned this old instrument shop that had pretty much everything you ever needed in it, drums, electric guitars, pianos, even clarinets.”
“If that’s where you wanna go Bob then I’m sure that’s where you’ll end up once you step outside our door.” You could see the gears turning in your husband's mind, he was trying to figure out why Bob was even here. It was so random, so out of the blue. Were all his friends going to come through one at a time? Was this how things worked? Did they all miss him so much they couldn’t pass on without saying goodbye?
“I’m not ready to go yet.” It was as genuine as ever. Bob was just scared, he didn’t know how to feel or what to say. All he knew was that he just needed a minute to figure out if this was real or if he’d just fallen asleep in the rec room. “Could I maybe just sit here for a while?”
“Yeah Bob.” Oh how you’d missed your friends, the people who cared the most. “Yeah, take all the time you need.”
“You can go, if you want—“ It was the softest of voices, the most calming of lullabies. Bob could hear her right in his ear. “I’m right here, you aren’t alone, so if you need to go, you go, okay?” Phoenix cried as Bob turned around in his chair to look over his shoulder. He saw the image clear as day. He was in a hospital room being kept alive by machines and tubes.
“Who is it?” You asked as Bob saw his final moments play out right before him. He never wanted that, to end up on life support. Bob had always told the people who mattered most to him to pull the plug if he ever got to that point. Phoenix must have listened.
“It’s okay, you go, say hi to Hangman and Hollywood for me.”
“Nix—“ Bob smiled at the thought of his front seater. He hoped wherever his heaven was that hers wouldn’t be far away. “She says to say hi.”
It felt all too real when you looked over to your husband. These were his people more so than they ever were yours. He’d known them for years and left them all without saying goodbye. Now was his chance.
“I really did miss you Bob.” Jake sighed as he walked across the kitchen with heavy steps. His hand came to rest on the WSO’s shoulder, bringing a comfort Bob didn’t know he’d missed so much. Jake loved you so much, that was clear to everyone who knew him once he lost you. For some it was easier to accept than others. Bob only hoped that if Rooster got a chance to stop by on his journey into the forever that he wouldn’t hold his grudge. “But I couldn’t say, every breath I took since she left felt like such a waste on me.”
Bob looked at you, and then looked back up at Jake. The blood from his ears had begun to fade. There was no more pain. Bob was simply Bob. And he could hear the drums as clear as day just outside the front door. It was his time to go.
“I’m just glad that you guys got your happily ever after.” Bob chuckled to himself. “Even if it was in death.”
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***
Tags 🏷️ @americaarse @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @athenabarnes @imaginecrushes @whyareallnamesgone @mjmaximoffbarnes @amiets2 @mads-weasley @gabbyella @ephemeralninon @xoxabs88xox @pedrohoe04 @starkleila @je-suis-prest-rachel @clancycucumber230 @maisie-rebloging-blog @callsign-barbell @obiwankenobis-lap @some-lovely-day @paperbag333 @callsign-magnolia @jhiddles03 @hardballoonlove @shanimallina87 @seitmai i @abaker74 @missemrose @starset21 @kmc1989 @phoenix1388 @emma8895eb @tsofo26 @itsmytimetoodream @angelbabyange
#bruises // jake seresin#life after death //#robert bob floyd#bob floyd angst#Robert Floyd top gun#top gun fandom#top gun fanfiction
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ik this is supposed to be sharing MY headcanons, but im curious myself to see if u have any first kiss headcanons for staticradio yourself?
who would initiate it? would it be on accident? THINK OF THE POSSIBILITIES
My friend if you give me a prompt I will come up with headcanons whether I previously had any or not
It takes a long time. Like, a really, really, stupidly long time, and it's not because they don't want to but because they're both stuck in their own heads thinking too hard about it. Vox knows how old fashioned and traditional Alastor is about everything, plus not being quite as accustomed to constant physical affection in a relationship like Vox is, so the last thing he wants to do is rush into things and screw it up. Alastor is mostly staring at a flat screen and wondering if it's even actually possible, because yes he's seen Vox eat and drink coffee but also what?
Because that's about 90% of the reason for Alastor's hesitations, he shows that type of affection in other, similar ways. Like the whole holding your partners hand and kissing the top of it? He does that shit all the time, because it's fancy and gentlemanly and a good substitute in the meantime
It probably gets to the point eventually where Vox had to stop being so patient and just ask if there's a reason it hasn't happened yet to which Alastor responds with confusion because he'd long since come to the conclusion that it was an impossibility of their relationship. Cue Vox being confused as well because if he thought it was impossible, why would he even stay in the relationship to begin with?? But it's something that matters little to Alastor, because as nice as it would be he cares a hell of a lot more that they're together at all and it wouldn't have been a dealbreaker because at the end of the day it's still Vox
Anyway miscommunication cleared up and it's an emotional kiss (probably initiated at this point by Vox) to solidify their relationship even further and cross a barrier of being more comfortable around each other
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I was hoping I could get a Professor Chaos x (captured) reader? Maybe leaning towards nsfw? But ofc not if you’re not comfortable with it. Hope it’s not to much to ask for!
I’m hoping you won’t be upset if I do straight up nsfw, I’m sorry!!! Let’s all thank Hannah for helping me because my brain was empty and I wanted to sob 💕💕 @hannah-h-pleb
TW: Stalking, probs dub con or something?? I dunno just be scared 😍😍
NSFW CONTENT
Professor Chaos x reader
• When Professor Chaos first kidnapped you he wanted info regarding Freedom Pals and good lord he was getting desperate. Or at least desperate enough to kidnap someone
• Soon enough he targets you because not only are you new to the team, you’re an easy target too. Plus it just so happens he finds you stupidly pretty
• He’s honestly been stalking watching you for a good while too so it’s a win win for him, he gets to gain info about his sworn enemies AND capture the pretty lady he’s been stalking he’s obsessed with
• Professor Chaos probably captures you during a battle between the Freedom Pals and Cartmans group, they were all too busy and full of themselves to notice you were gone
• Honestly he was kinda hoping that maybe the Freedom Pals would notice and he could get a nice ransom out of you but they never came for you
• I suppose it’s just the universe telling you that y’all are meant to be, or at least that’s what he kept telling you
• He definitely has you tied to a chair in his lair while he questions you about everything you know, which honestly isn’t much. Not that he’d know what little you know right now, turns out you’re more loyal than he thought
• It’s almost funny because as he interrogates you he can feel his pants getting tighter and tighter as he paces around his lair
• He just can’t help but get a boner with how pretty you look when you’re all tied up and scared!!
• But the sick thing is, you don’t JUST look scared, you’re enjoying this just as much as he is
• It doesn’t take long for him to act on his desires, and it doesn’t take very long for you to give in either
• Professor Chaos starts off more slow and passionate with soft neck kisses, palming your boobs, slowly fingering you, the works. He def wants to take his time with you to get you all worked up
• Professor Chaos fucks a lot differently than Butters does. Prof Chaos fucks, Butters makes love and all that
• And when he fucks you, he gets rough. The feeling of power completely takes over. He’s the type to pull your hair, spank you, and whisper utterly filthy things in your ears, maybe even chokes you
• That man completely ruins you in the best way, leaving your poor ass red with hand prints and your pussy practically stuffed to the brim
• When he’s done with you, you’re more than willing to tell him all you know now that he’s fucked you stupid and he ends up keeping you around
• Now it’s like you’re his little spy, observing anything and everything you can before you can come back to Professor Chaos and tell him everything and get fucked but that’s besides the point
• Somehow this goes on for a long time and the Freedom Pals were none the wiser to how you and Professor Chaos were getting busy behind scenes
• Within time the two of you fell in love, you learned to be just as enamored with him as he was with you
• I suppose the Freedom Pals really never really cared enough to see who was the rat among them, let alone see why their newest recruit had been going missing days at a time?
#h harleybaby needs help#harley won’t shut her mouth#mom come get harley she’s rambling#harley’s anons <33#south park x reader#south park x reader headcanons#south park x y/n#butters x reader#butters smut#butters x y/n#butters x you#butters stotch x reader#butters stotch x y/n#butters stotch x you#butters stotch smut#butters scotch x reader#professor chaos x reader#professor chaos x y/n#professor chaos x you#professor chaos smut#tfbw x reader
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LittleSnack
a/n:ive been eating a lot lately, and getting a little insecure about it.. so here’s some comfort♡
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦
“You packed way too much food again!”
Your friend said in an appalled tone.
Atsushi Murasakibara’s ears perked at the mention of too much food, immediately lifting his head up from his previously sleeping position. Looking over at you right away, he stared down your loaded bento.
His mouth watered. Grilled beef, a side of fragrant pan noodles, dumplings, and … leftover Bibimbap. Now his mouth was watering ….
Of course, Murasakibara had finished his lunch long ago. Now that it was lunch though, he was sort of regretting it. No matter how many times he regrets eating his lunch too soon, he always does it again the next day…
“You eat like that everyday y/n… pretty soon, you’re gonna start gaining even more weight…” your friend continued with a judgmental overlook.
You laughed off her rude comment. “You know I’m not worried about that kind of stuff. I just have a big appetite.”
Your defense fell on deaf ears as your friend sighed. “Can’t you just use a normal excuse, like ‘I accidentally made too much!’ And offer the rest of what you shouldn’t eat to someone you like?”
You paused eating upon her words, annoyance prickling your good mood. “I don’t need to make an excuse for my eating habits… I’m happy just the way I am.” You replied calmly, continuing your lunch with a bit more attitude.
Murasakibara, overheating the entire thing, smirked. He’d always had a little bit of an admiration towards you and your large appetite. It was rare to find a girl who ate as much as you. But since he was never all that interested in girls, he made no effort in learning more about you than that.
Seeing this new side of you was nice. He liked the way you stood up for yourself, and took pride in the way you were. Not to mention, the food you brought in always looked homemade. He couldn’t help but wonder if you made it yourself.
“Whatever, just trying to look out for you.” Your friend shrugged, and kept silent about the subject.
Murasakibara glanced at you, instead of your food, and noticed a weird look on your face. Even after you finished the entirety of your bento, you still looked unsatisfied.
The food looked great, and he couldn’t imagine you’d still be hungry. Maybe you were; he was often still hungry after any meal he had too. That’s why he snacked so much, anyway.
That had to be it, you were snacky. No matter how delicious the food you had was, it was true you had nothing sweet.
Dessert was the most important part of a meal, after all.
Without realizing the meaning behind his actions before acting on them, he began searching his snack-school bag for what he had on him.
Four bags of different chips, three mambo sticks, two rice cakes, a few handfuls of Sakura mochi candies, a bag of hi-chew, and two red bean buns.
Looking at the assortment made his mouth water. He was definitely going to indulge in some snacks as well. Reaching in, he pulled out a bag of chips, a mambo stick, four Sakura mochi, a handful of hichew, and a red bean bun. He honestly had no idea what kind of food or snacks you liked, so he just grabbed a little bit of everything.
Hauling the load in his stupidly large hands, he quietly walked over to your desk. You were sitting alone now with your bento neatly put away, since lunch was only a minute from ending.
“Y/n-chin…” your classmate said in a deadpan tone, before laying the snacks out on your desk. Your eyes bulged wide in shock. Your mouth fell open, confused. Speechless, you craned your neck up to look at your tall classmate. “M-Murasakibara-kun…?” You asked.
He nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You looked hungry… teach yells at me if she catches me snacking during class though, so careful not go get caught…” he looked away after catching your glistening gaze.
Why was he suddenly embarrassed?
“Y-you didn’t have to! I couldn’t..” you tried to offer the snacks back, but he already started walking away. “Eat them all y/n-chin~”
And just as he sat back in his seat, the class bell rang to start lessons. Crap, he was gonna have to sneak-snack again.
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Murasakibara was putting away his school materials, careful not to squish any of the snacks inside. “M-Murasakibara-kun…” you said quietly while standing over his desk. With an unimpressed glance, he looked at you, practically at each other’s height even though he was sitting.
“Thanks for the snacks today… they were really good.” You smiled at him. “I don’t have anything to repay you though, so…”
You looked down at your fidgeting fingers. “I-if you don’t mind, I’d like to cook you something. I-I always accidentally make too much food at home, enough for an extra bento or two… so, if there’s anything you’d like, I’d be happy to make something for you.”
As if buffering, Murasakibara sat unmoving in silence. Well, this was a surprise. He wasn’t sure how he should respond. He didn’t offer you the snacks to get something out of you, but he’d be lying if he didn’t want to eat your cooking.
“Really?” He asked.
You nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely!”
“You’re sure?” He asked again.
You laughed heartily at this. He wasn’t sure what was so funny, but your continued laughter was making him feel some type of way. It made him smile, like he was happy or something.
“Yes I’m sure! Do you have any requests?” You asked after finally getting your giggling under control.
Murasakibara looked up, and hummed in thought. “Anything I want…. That’s a dangerous question y/n-chin, since I like everything…”
You hummed in unison, and thought. “Buttered chicken?”
“Sounds yummy.”
“Sautéed carrots?”
His nose wrinkled. “Hate carrots.”
You giggled. “No carrots. Pork dumplings?”
“Sure…”
“Muchim?”
“As long as it isn’t too spicy.”
Satisfied, you nodded, and pulled your bag over your shoulder in preparation to leave. “Look forward to it, then!”
Murasakibara wasn’t sure why, but he felt the urge to call out for you when you began to walk away. He didn’t though, remained sitting while he watched you leave.
“What was that about?” Himuro asked suddenly, scaring the purple giant half to death. “Nothin’” he huffed in reply.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦
The next day, Murasakibara almost forgot about yesterday’s events. He forgot things pretty easily. As he put his shoes away, he began thinking about if he’d have enough time to eat his bento before the beginning of the day bell rang.
“Murasakibara-kun,” he heard his name call out to him from behind, halfway down the hall. He stopped, and looked back to see you with two large furushiki wrappings in hand. “I might have went a little overboard, sorry.” You laughed quietly.
Oh yeah, you promised to bring him lunch today. He wasn’t sure how he forgot that.
“Thanks,” he accepted the purple furushiki, surprised by its hefty weight.
“I hope it’s to your liking!” You grinned up at him. Caught up in surprise, he only just realized how fucking short you were. Everyone was short compared to him but, well, he could have easily missed you if he didn’t actively look down.
Before he had the chance to reply, you were jogging off to your shared classroom, carefree and greeting friends along the way.
…
The hours seemed to pass agonizingly slow between then and lunch time… Despite being successful in scarfing down the lunch his mom packed him for the day (as per usual), he was eager to finally enjoy the food he’d been wishing he could eat from your bento from afar.
…
Finally, the heavenly sound of the lunch bell ended morning lectures. Immediately, he pulled out the wrapped bento box, unwrapped the furushiki, and popped open the first of three boxes.
He wanted to eat slowly, savor each bite for its amazing flavor. But that was just impossible. He barely had enough time to chew between each bite, he was eating so fast.
Too distracted by the food in front of him, he hadn’t noticed you staring at him. “He sure is eating fast,” you chuckled to yourself, making your friend cock an eyebrow at you. “Why the sudden interest? Wait… isn’t that one of your lunch boxes? No, that’s definitely your furushiki on his desk. Y/n, did you..?!” She asked, almost choking on her own lunch.
“W-what can I say… I-I accidentally made too much…” you looked away from her suspecting squint. “Oh my god.” She whispered, looking back to Murasakibara. “Never for a thousand years would I have guessed… you and Mu—“ she tried to tease you, but you cut her off with a sush.
“Not out loud..!” You whispered red faced.
Glancing back again, you spotted Murasakibara seeking you out, mouth full and giving you a big thumbs up. You almost gasped, his approval earning a much deeper blush out of you.
Once he’d finished, he wrapped everything back up. Though, when he handed it back to you, it was much… lumpier than you remembered.
“It was good.” Murasakibara reported back to you in his usual dull tone. “Just good?” Your friend huffed. “That’s it?”
Murasakibara narrowed his eyes, not sure what she meant. It’s not like he was very fond of her anyway, given her attitude toward the way you ate in the first place. Was she trying to get on his nerves?
“She went out of her way to make extra food for you? Can’t you act a little more grateful for her kindness?” She asked, pulling her own finished dishes away from your desk.
“S-stop.!” You hissed.
Your friend shrugged, unfazed. “Just sayin’.” She said just before walking away, leaving you two in shock.
“D-don’t worry about—“ you tried to laugh off the poor attitude she left behind, but Murasakibara got the idea.
“The Muchim was a little spicy, but i really liked it. The rice you made was fluffier than how my mom makes it, so I liked it better. The sauce you put on the chicken was also different than I’ve had before, so I really liked that too… I also liked the way you fried the dumplings on the bottom…” he tried thinking of different ways to compliment your exceptional cooking, but he wasn’t really that good with words. Hell, he wasn’t very social in general. Talking to you at all was out of his normal behavior.
Nevertheless, his kind words struck a cord in you. “It wasn’t too much?” You asked.
“I could have thirds.” He admitted.
“I have some leftover from my own lunch, if you-“
“Nah, that’s your food y/n-chin. You should finish it.” Murasakibara pointed at the lunchbox wrapping he handed back to you. “I also left some snacks in there for you as thanks, make sure to eat those too.”
That explains why the wrapping was lumpy. You couldn’t help but laugh again. “That’s thoughtful of you, thanks.”
Murasakibara nodded, and started walking back to his desk, but felt a tug on his sleeve that made him stop and look back.
“Sorry… but, do you mind if I call you by a nickname? After all, not only do you call me by my first name, but it’s also shortened…”
He looked down at you silently for a moment too long to feel comfortable. “I-I just mean, Murasakibara is a bit of a mouthful, you know?”
Crap, were you overstepping? Nervously, you averted your gaze. He liked seeing this shy side of you too. Atsushi smiled, and sat in the seat your friend left open. “Sure. What’d you have in mind?”
Happily surprised at his change of tone, you unfolded the lunch cloth, and pulled out a red bean bun.
Til the end of lunch, you both sat and chatted with one another.
#kuroko no basket#kuroko no basuke x reader#knb#knb x reader#knb murasakibara#murasakibara atsushi#atsushi murasakibara#murasakibara x reader#the basketball which kuroko plays
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alright, that's fair. so angst with a happy ending, they're good friends, she likes him, there's rumours about him with another woman, she's upset and keeping distance, him trying to figure out what's wrong, something like this if possible?
you know, i was actually thinking about this! thank you for requesting <3
— hurt/comfort, very very slight angst (i'm sorry), two idiots in love, unknown mutual pining, cliche confession while in an argument
it hurts you to ignore him this way.
he's your friend.
best friend. for god knows how long.
and best friends are supposed to be there for each other. to help, and support, and care for one another when no one does. it's the principle — and you shouldn't want for more.
(you shouldn't want to hold his hand when you'd walk side by side. you shouldn't want to push the stranded curls off his forehead and stare deep into the umber of his eyes until everything dissipates and you're both left floating into this void; you shouldn't want to kiss him suddenly when he smiles. and you definitely shouldn't want to wake up beside him every morning and tell him that you love him.)
the thing is, they're normalized now. everyone does it when they know everything remains platonic. but you don't want to hurt yourself that way knowing he didn't feel the same. you couldn't bear the heartbreak.
so when you dawned upon that realization, or maybe when you've come to terms with the fact that the devil on your shoulder was right—that you're in love with him—you'd gone insane. your mind filled to the brim with possibilities of what might happen if you told him the truth. and each one increased the anxiety in your chest even more.
you tried to act like everything was okay. you acted normal around him. you talked like you used to. hung out like you used to. joseph would hang an arm around your shoulders, rub his knuckle on your hair and laugh with you like i used to.
up until last week.
the picture of him with some girl on brainrot social media and articles. joseph with a smile so bright it's familiar, and you realize that he'd only smile that way when he's with you. and god, he's laughing with a girl. a pretty girl; it's mind fucking to be hurt this way by just staring at an un consented image.
you drowned in unreasonable jealousy. because why should you be jealous if he's not yours? why should you be jealous in the first place? you fool yourself. you're only jealous because he didn't spend time with you, not because he was with some girl.
some girl.
some pretty girl.
and while you wallow in self-pity, you ignore him. for both your sakes. before you do something that could ruin everything.
joseph does his nightly texts — hey! how are you? and you'd respond curtly than go on a long rant. obviously he'd wonder what's wrong, but he'd let it go on the first night.
hey, what's up?
hey can we talk?
hey i miss you :(
until three nights later when you flat out ignored him and it had gotten to the point he started texting your friends. and the same reason was used: you're busy. you're asleep. your phone died. you're out of town for work.
you're in love with him and got stupidly jealous at the sight of him with another woman.
so it brings him here.
a week later, outside your door with nothing but questions formed from his confusion and frustration. joseph knows you're by the door looking through the peephole by your shadow beneath the minuscule gap beneath the door. you see him sigh heavily, holding back an eyeroll.
"i know you're there, (y/n),"
"fuck," you whisper, standing back on your heels and let your hands fall and raise between your side and the doorknob.
"just— let me in, please? i just want to talk." you hear him sigh faintly. "please?"
you take a huge deep of breath, hand shaking as you twist the doorknob. you're first greeted by the cold air from the hallways, before your eyes land on joseph's hunched figure. covered solely in a pair of blue jeans and a white shirt, his chain hung on his neck.
"hey," he exhales, relieved. "thank god you're alive. thought someone might have kidnapped you and pushed you off a cliff."
you frown. "well, that's specific."
joseph comes in when you step aside to make way. he removes his shoes, placing it beside the door as he wipes his feet on the mat. "i was worried." he says. "until i saw you hanging out with our friends while you were ignoring my texts."
it's amusing how quick his tone changed, almost as if he hadn't been worried in the first place as he quickly returns to being irritated by your ignorance. you shrug. "i- i was busy."
"busy with what?" despite the irritation, his voice remains soft, his patience speaking for him.
"work," you laugh a little, tone pitched as you hand waves in the air. "i was busy with work. and- and catching up with others. that's all." joseph furrows his eyebrows. "sorry if i ignored your texts. i'm...i'm sorry."
"that's okay," he murmurs. "just wished you would have told me. i thought that i might have done something to make you hate me. i was worried. felt like i was going to explode."
he's only saying that because he's my friend. best friend.
"sorry," you say again. "just got caught up with things,"
"yeah with partying," it's obvious that he's bitter. and somehow, it pisses you off that he's pissed off for being ghosted. "didn't even bother to invite me,"
you scoff, turning around. "why would i invite you if you're with some girl?"
it was a sarcastic remark, your mouth speaking before you could think. your voice meant to fool him into thinking that it meant nothing. but joseph knows what's up—especially with the strain in your voice as you said the last word that was followed by a sardonic chuckle. his face falls, furrowing his eyebrows at you.
"what are you talking about?"
you clear your throat, scratching your forehead. "i dunno. it's social media, jo. one day you're in a famous show and the next people with cameras follow you around."
joseph frowns. "what?"
"come on," you spin around to face him again, laughing incredulously at him. "people saw you with a girl. who you've been with for the past week. so why would i invite you?"
"because i'm your friend!"
"you were with some girl!"
"that doesn't even make any sense!"
his voice raises, but not loud enough that it hurts your ears. your face wrinkles, throat swallowing your words that the only thing that leaves your mouth are defensive scoffs as your hand drops to your side, turning back around to walk somewhere. "you- you were busy."
"bullshit—hey! oi," joseph pivots his way in front of you, blocking your way to your bedroom, hands on either side of the doorframe as he hovers over you. "don't lie to me, (y/n). look- if i did something that hurt you, or made you pull away from me, just tell me. please?"
he's desperate now, affliction in his plea. a heavy rock rises to your throat, hands to a fist on your sides. joseph's eyebrows raise, leaning down slightly as if to encourage you to speak. confined with the difficulty to choose between the truth or not, and you sigh heavily.
"you did nothing, okay?" you shrug his hands off, your index finger picking at the skin beside your thumbnail. "everything's fine. it's my fault. "
"then talk to me," he adjures, his hands clueless as to where it should be. "please? if—if you want some space for whatever it is that happened, fine. just tell me, and i'll give you that space."
his patience makes your heart ache, because you feel guilty for lying to the man so tolerant and understanding — has been since you were teens. and you hear the desperation in his voice. loud and sad as it yearns for your truth to feed his clueless mind, worried of the wrong he didn't do. you look away from joseph, at the wall where you trace its small bumps, and you huff.
"it was because of the girl,"
joseph's back straightens, his bottom lip jutting out slightly as his eyebrows return to its place. and suddenly he's perplexed. "oh. why?"
"i—"
"do you not want me to hang around her?" he asks. "are you jealous that i spent the week with her...?"
"no! no, i don't want to be telling you who you should hang out with. and no, why would i be jealous?" the white face paint's beneath the sink, and there's a red wig in your closet, 'cause you look like a fucking clown.
joseph scoffs. "then what is it?"
"god, okay, maybe i was a little jealous," you quip, throwing your hands in the air. "maybe- maybe i got upset that my best friend's with another girl. but not because she's taking up his time, but because she's pretty! pretty enough that i'm jealous of you? no, but could be 'cause she is hot. but yes, i could be if i didn't like—"
you pause, your brain telling you you've been talking too much, because joseph's got his head ducked and eyebrows raised to listen. and if you looked closely, he's lips are twitched up slightly in bemusement. you close your mouth, glaring at him.
"if you didn't like?" he smirks. "you like someone."
"no i don't."
"yes you do."
"what makes you say that?"
"you said it."
"like can mean anything. i mean, i like your mom because she's nice. i like you because you're my friend. like doesn't mean like like, because i like anyone. and liking anyone doesn't mean i like like them."
"what?"
"fuck!" there's a boulder in your throat, hard and prevents the air from slipping through. you don't find his amusement entertaining, and you're trying to swallow that rock down your throat while he's looking at you like that.
— all innocent and happy, eyes wide as they stare at you like, like you're important.
like he's in love with you.
he's not.
joseph's smile falls, noticing the tears at your waterline that makes your eyes all glossy. "hey. what's wrong? is it something i said?"
"no," you push him aside, stepping into your room and sitting on the bed right in the middle. "it's not your fault. it's never been your fault," the heel of your palms are pressed against your eyes. you hear him shuffle until you feel him kneeling in front of you, gentle hands wrapping around your wrists.
"then what is it?"
you whimper. and when he tugs your hands off your eyes and replaces it with his own thumbs, letting your fat tears wet his calloused skin, it makes your heart hurt even more, with the fact that he's so gentle and caring.
"i like you,"
three words. something he's heard before but not in the way that he thinks. "yeah, i know, bub. i like you too."
"no, jo," you close your eyes, nails lightly scratching at the bracelet on his left wrist. "i like you."
there's a soft sigh that leaves him that begins the silence between the two of you. the way his hand stays on your face but weakens in the slightest; the way his eyes narrow in anxiousness as they waited for your confession. you mistake this his silence as disgust — that you'd liked your best friend as something more. and you wonder what would have happened if you told him that you loved him.
you didn't have to. because you spoke again. "i...love you."
it's what makes him fully remove his hands on your face, feeling the burn his touch left behind (or maybe it was just the sudden sweat on his palms). he sits down on the carpet, cross legged, a soft thump of denim to wool. joseph breaks his eyes away from you to look at your knees in a quiet state of shock. his lips parted in the slightest.
"oh..."
"you know what," you sniffle, licking your lips as you stand up, wiping your tears with the side of your hand. "i'm just gonna go."
joseph, who's still processing everything, looks up at you. "you live here."
"i didn't say i was gonna leave for good, dumbass—"
you're startled with the sudden feeling of his lips on yours, befuddled with his speed from sitting to standing. joseph holds your face in his hands, flesh rough but touch gentle as he keeps you close to him. and your eyes are open, sense of touch heightened that you can feel every fibre of him as he presses his mouth harder against yours that it renders your eyes shut and your hands on the softness of his hair.
his mouth opens to part yours, his breath fanning on your face and some into your mouth, his forehead resting against yours. joseph's thumbs drag across the dark circles beneath your eyes, his eyebrows furrowing before he lets out a chuckle.
"i'm sorry," he murmurs. "i just kissed you,"
you open your eyes. "it's alright,"
your hand drags from his shoulder to his chest, watching as he slowly looks at you. honey eyes bright with glee, a ring of doting arousal on the corner of his irises. joseph angles your face back, neck straining slightly so he'd get a better view of you. "i like, well, i love you too."
he chuckles when a slow smile comes to your face. "really?"
"fuck yeah, bubs," he wrinkles his nose. "i've loved you since you kicked that asshole's bum for breaking my glasses when we were twelve. how could i not love you?"
before you answer, he kisses you again, a deep inhalation of your scent as his nose dig on your face. his lips are soft, cherry; cigarettes, hot and feverish when they move with yours and break in a soft click.
"you're amazing," he murmurs. "beautiful," a kiss, "smart," another, "unfathomably lovely," and a last. "i love you. that girl you saw? she's just a friend, lovie. she's nothing compared to you."
you shake your head, laughing. "christ in hell, jo."
"i love you," he repeats. "yeah? i'd post it on instagram or whatever. i love you."
"i get it, babe—"
"i love you."
"i know," you kiss his nose. "i love you too."
something i'm a smidge proud of bc im jealous
reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3
#joseph quinn blurb#joseph quinn x reader#joseph quinn x you#joseph quinn x y/n#joseph quinn fluff#joseph quinn angst#joseph quinn fic#joseph quinn fanfiction#joseph quinn#blurb#eddie munson#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfiction
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a hundred thoughts
john 'soap' mactavish x f!reader (squid!reader)
an: angst, idiots in love, love declarations (to Gaz) and pining | for the anon who wanted to hurt, you’re welcome.
wc: 2k
summary: “i think i’m in love with my best friend”. and now you’ve said it, that the secret had touched the air, it has allowed it to run more rampant through your veins. It throbs in your bones and thumps in your saddened heart. Because you miss him—
john soap mactavish masterlist
Each time he leaves, you hope he leaves a noticeable mark.
Something to cling to. A bruise from the hug being too tight, a pinch from you winding him up, or even a finger mark burned into your skin, from how searingly important he is.
But, he never does—never did.
All you're left with is the lasting image of him walking backwards from you, smirking, eyes twinkling as he points at you saying:
“Don’t get into trouble without m’, Mari. I’ll be back in a few hours and then, we go to tha’ pub and get bladdered.”
It was the last thing—last tickbox.
Price had said it would be quick, in and out. The last loose end that had made its way out of the blistering heat, from where you’d all just been.
It didn’t make a difference that you knew he’d be back before it got dark. From the moment the wheels took off with him, till he would come back, you held your breath.
You longed, chest tight—nerves frayed, frazzled. You had suspected why for a long time, but this time…
It hit you. Knocked you from your axis.
Not like a wave. It doesn’t wash over you, drench you and make you go cold. It both creeps and slams into you all at once. Similar to those small paper cuts you get, the ones you only notice when sanitiser or alcohol touches them, and then it’s all you can think of. Hurting so much the corners of your eyes go a little white and you blank everything out as you hiss from it all.
It’s that thought that threads itself into your mind. It creates pretty, complicated bows that you’re sure only he can undo.
“You alright?”
You look up from your untouched plate.
The scent of ketchup singeing your nose. It mixes with spilled vinegar and the fading scent of Soap’s body wash. The latter being the only smell you really wish to cling to, but it’s the one which dwindles the quickest.
Gaz shouldn’t look concerned—the expression doesn’t suit him. He suits smiling and grinning, half-laughing as you sing a song badly in his face when you’re both five drinks deep.
And yet, you’ve made him look concerned more often as of late. A part of you wondering if it’s why he’s here instead of with Price—to keep an eye on you, to watch you.
Something he’s doing well, irrespective of it being an order. He purposefully keeps meeting your gaze, finding him watching, staring with concern written into his brows, face twisting ever so slightly.
The two of you take it in turns—swapping the expression. Being the rock the other can cling to when the current tries to sweep the other a way.
Parting your lips, the words clunk and stick to the inside of your throat. Unwilling to shift, to be spoken.
Because no, you’re not okay. Not even a little bit.
Those words blow across your mind—almost through it. The rest, the real explanation—the one you’ve kept so close to you—is a tangled mess you’re not sure how to begin unravelling, never mind speaking.
It’s a secret which appears in the night, hovering at the end of whatever bed you’re in. A thing which sits and erodes a hole into your chest. One which both makes you feel heavy and weightless all at once; one which fills you both with happiness, fluttering wings and nervous bubbling, and sadness which dulls everything in its path.
A complete contradiction.
“Oi,” Gaz says, poking you with his stupidly long finger, a brow raised. “Do I need to worry about you?”
Maybe. But, maybe it’s too late.
You sigh, swallowing, chewing the words which are starting to taste bitter and wrong. Having sat there far too long—brewing, festering—
“Mari, c’mon. I don’t see you—“
“I think I’m in love with my best friend.”
Gaz stares, blinking.
And it takes a second, even two before you can even understand why he’s staring. Why he’s dumbfounded and silent. In another situation, you think you’d smile, grin—laugh, even.
“Not you, obviously… Soap.”
And then slowly, you watch the most annoying smirk grow and bleed over his features. “Y’fucking think?”
“Excuse me?”
His hand steals a chip from your plate, brow raising. “We will come back to me not being your best friend, but Mari—I’m sorry, but it’s bloody obvious.”
“It is…?”
He grins.
Not horribly. A grin you rarely see on him when you’re both here. One that is usually reserved for being back home, his head turned on your sofa, staring at him as you make a comment about something on the TV.
“Yeah. It is. Not just because you’re always together or that you seek him out when you’re sad—which I know you do. It’s not because I know you share a bed with him, but because as your real best friend, you can’t keep your eyes off the bloke.”
It should calm you. Ease your tired muscles and broken soul. You should find comfort in sharing this secret, the pain and pressure of carrying it halved.
But, it instead opens the barely held-together parts of you. The marks you’ve left on yourself through determined resolve so you weren’t so easily read, bristles and gnaws.
And then, it strikes you. A bolt which sends shivers through your spine and toes, almost winding you and covering you in bruises.
Because maybe he knows too. Which means he doesn’t feel the same. And, and—
You swallow, pushing the plate closer to Gaz. Feeling a slight twinge as you watch his smile fade, the edges of it drooping and wilting, but not enough to ask him why.
Your mind is too busy to care. Gripping the edges of the seat beside your thighs, hating that you’re on the wrong side of realisation—that now you’ve said it, that the secret has touched the air, it has allowed it to run more rampant through your veins.
It throbs in your bones and thumps in your saddened heart.
Because you miss him—
And, he’s only just gone.
“Shit.”
“Why shit?”
“Because,” you say, swirling your hand as you try to find the words.
Not sure if you can say that it’s consuming—loving him. That wanting him, missing Johnny… it’s taking so much from you.
And, it’s only truly begun.
Before it was held under a perfectly layered tarp with hidden emotions weighing it down. Now, it’s free, rising like a helium balloon, blowing in the space between the two of you. Him and you. You and him…
“Mari.”
You blink, feeling the sting of a tear which hovers between falling and not. “If you can tell, Kyle… then he can too. And he obviously doesn’t feel… he doesn’t feel the same.”
Gaz dips his head, staring at you—almost forcing you to hold his gaze without as much as asking you to. And it hurts to. Because it’s full of pity.
A harder look to swallow, to ignore in his brown eyes.
“Mar, he fucking loves you too.”
“No–”
“Yes. Trust me, alright. As your actual best friend—which, by the way, I’m still fuckin’ insulted you put him above me—but, that man is in love with you. More than Price loves cigars—and he ripped a new arsehole in that recruit the other week because he made him drop one.”
You snort. Force it out.
You hope it’ll pacify him, tell him he has nothing to worry about. But it doesn’t work.
He sees through you, raising both brows to inform you of so as your teeth dig further into the inside of your cheeks—leaving marks the tip of your tongue will feel for weeks. Each word of his landing with no comfort.
Even when he doesn’t say another thing. Even when he lets you excuse yourself—nodding in understanding when you say you’re going to sleep.
Not that you do.
You let time tick on. And it’s hours.
Long, painful hours that feel like they’re spreading and bleeding into eternity. It’s apparent, as the day drags on, how you miss him a little louder. It’s all a little more obvious when he’s not on base.
As though the knowledge that he can't turn a corner and call you lass or pull you into the crook of his shoulder—a place you crave now—makes the longing worse.
You’d suspected it all long before now. Had turned it over in your mind when you’d listened to his heartbeat under your ear. You’d acknowledge it—accepted it—that Soap had become the best part of your day, that you don’t didn’t deserve him and couldn’t let him go all at once.
You hadn’t gone to your room when you left Gaz, you went to Soap’s. Allowing yourself a moment to be with your thoughts and be surrounded by his scent. Then it became too much. It made your eyes sting, your heart heavy and your fingers cramp from clinging to the sheets he’d been laying in hours before.
I’ll be back in a few hours…
But, there have already been a few gone.
The realisation and knot of worry dragging its long claws up your throat as the loneliness peels your flesh back, as the threads around your heart tighten, and tighten.
You miss him.
Miss the way he pulls your neck into the crook of his shoulder, that he calls you lass—that his eyes linger that fraction longer with you, than they do with anyone else.
It’s that which eases you as darkness ebbs in the corners of your eyes. Your eyelids closing, tears awaiting at the edges as you curl further into his pillow—the one the two of you have so often shared.
If you sleep, you can miss him quieter, and love him a little easier—or so you hope. Feeling your legs grow heavy, sleep sliding up your body pulling you under its dreamy depths as you let his scent fill you.
Because at least here, there’s a part of him everywhere—enough to trick you into letting yourself believe he’s beside you. It’s that which relaxes you over the last hurdle, your body weightless as sleep embalms your skin and quiets your brain.
Just for a second.
The briefest relief from it all.
It’s why you suspect you don’t hear him enter. Lost in a world between the sleep and those who are awake—teetering in a wasteland devised only by yourself.
But you feel him.
It’s that which makes your eyes open—those knuckles. His knuckles. The ones covered in scars and healing cuts. The ones which often drag themselves up and down your cheek—running along it just the same right now.
It’s dark in his room—the night having crept in and smothered the day.
But, even without light, you see him all the same.
Your eyes accustomed to seeking him—your beacon, your fucking sun. You have practice at it, staring through a scope to watch him, observe him—protect him.
It’s different here. No danger, no reason—just a need to see him, spot him, drink him all in.
Especially when he’s like this, smiling, almost grinning—and very much alive.
The grin he gives is one he does more when it’s the two of you. One which almost tugs at your lips until they mirror his. Almost makes you spill all your secrets to him, like the one brewing and bubbling at the forefront of your mind:
Kiss me. Kiss me, Johnny, and… just—
“Y’doin’ ‘ere, lass?”
You blink it away. Force it back and stuff it away. Both begging the tears to retreat back and the brutal thoughts which pepper your mind.
You can’t reply, too afraid it’ll all come out.
Instead, you lift your hand from the sheets to his hand on your cheek. Staring, hoping your eyes are capable of burning the words into his mind that won’t stop rolling around yours.
Because you’re tired of fighting it—fighting him.
I love you. I love you, Johnny. I love you, I love you, I love you.
His palm spreads flat over your cheek, head tilting as your fingers slide between his—fitting so perfectly, as if you’re both pieces of the same puzzle.
You keep him there, letting the silence wrap around the two of you as his warmth spreads against the coolness of your skin. Your breaths grow deep, heavy, half-laced with beckoning sleep and still present worry.
“Y’missed me or something?”
He’s not smiling.
Nor laughing.
The air shifting, changing—bubbles of it bouncing more intently around the two of you. The claw back in your throat, your flesh peeling, your heart being suffocated by the threads of ifs and buts and maybes—
It would be easier to say yes. To tell him the darn truth.
Instead, you smirk playfully. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
It would have brought comfort to say yes, to not hide anymore. To then freely wallow at home in sitcoms, chocolate and tissues if he told you he didn’t feel the same. But, you’re too afraid…
Of losing him. This. A friendship and whatever else the two of you have built.
He shakes his head, dragging his thumb back and forward on your cheek—refusing to let go.
Not that you want him to.
You never want him to.
“Yer’ a right one, you. C’mon, the plane is callin’, lass. Need a scotch in me.”
read them not being idiots any more > 'yours to keep'
#soap mactavish x reader#soap x squid#john soap mactavish x reader#cod soap x reader#johnny soap mactavish x reader#Johnny soap mactavish
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"two years was not enough to get over you" (heeseung x reader)
genre: angst word count: 1.2k requested by nonnie <3
warnings: toxic relationship, mentions of cheating, reader got absolutely hammered, swearing
a/n: i know angst is not your favorite genre but i absolutely ITCHED to post this one for you guys lmao 💜 decided to post the fics less often not to drown your fyp with my drabbles!! anyways, thank you guys for all the appreciation i've been given during this event so far!! love you all <33
masterlist
You don't remember the party all that well which should be concerning considering the fact that you've only arrived here two hours ago.
The ungodly amount of alcohol you've been pouring into your body ever since your eyes met your ex's across the room start to take a toll on your system. Hence why you're kneeling in front of a toilet, spitting your guts out into it as the mentioned ex boyfriend holds your hair out of your face.
"Damn, 've never seen you this shitfaced, doll," he murmurs, collecting your locks into a makeshift ponytail.
When the gentle touch of his fingertips starts to make your already buzzing head even more hazy, you turn around and push his hands away from you. Pulling yourself back to your wobbly legs, Heeseung grabs you by your waist to stop you from tripping over your own feet and knocking half of your teeth out.
"Let go of me," you mumble quietly and he does just that, slowly inching his hands away from you.
Trying to leave the bathroom as quickly as possible, you stumble again and have to balance yourself by bracing both of your arms on the sink. Everything around you is spinning so you shut your eyes tightly, not even reacting to the feeling of his warm hand resting over your bare shoulder.
"Let me take you home," he says and you know he won't take no for an answer. When you don't respond, he asks again, "Please?"
He's always been hard to resist even back when you were dating - now, with you in such state, he's practically irresistible. So you nod your head and let him lead you out of your friends' house, hand firmly wrapped around your waist. He puts you in the passenger sit of his car and buckles you up, trying not to lose his mind at the fact that your shameful eyes never met his even once.
You drive in silence. He peeks at you from the corner of his eye every couple seconds, checking up on you that's slouched over the window.
And he just has to talk to you. He can't waste such longed for opportunity, even if that means getting his heart broken by your rejection. "You've always been a lightweight, YN. Did the masochist in you take over your senses tonight?"
You huff, slowly opening your blurry eyes. It's not easy – sitting this close to him, pretending as if everything is okay between the two of you. Like he hasn't broken your heart all those years ago. You've tried to convince yourself you healed yourself out of Lee Heeseung months ago but one stupid smile of his completely toppled down your certainty of it, and now you're not so sure after all.
"'s all your fault," you scoff, finger tracing random patterns on the window. "That's how much just seeing your stupid face riles me up."
Heeseung bites his lip, pulling up beside your apartment and shutting off the engine. He jumps out of the car, then unbuckles your seat belt and helps you crawl out of your seat. You don't even fight him when he asks for your keys, knowing it'll take him three times less to actually fit the key to the lock.
The both of you strip your shoes off and he basically carries your dead weight to the living room. He sets you down on the couch and walks off to the kitchen.
With a heavy sigh, you throw your head back on the headrest and close your eyes. This is probably the worst case scenario for tonight. Getting yourself stupidly wasted and ending up with your ex in the same apartment with you. You fucked up big time.
"Here, drink this," he says and nudges your knee with his.
You take the glass from his hands and empty the glass with three large sips. "Fuck, didn't realize I this was thirsty."
Heeseung chuckles lowly. "That's what happens when you gulp down vodka like it's water."
"What do you want from me?"
With an unamused smile, you turn to him slightly, taking in his face. You don't even try to lie to yourself anymore about how much you've missed him.
And he voices your exact thoughts after couple beats of silence. "I missed you. Two years was not enough to get over you."
You let out a loud scoff, an upset scowl making its way on your features. "You gotta be kidding me."
"I'm not, though," he argues, looking you straight into the eyes, gaze unwavering. "Never thought losing you would leave such an impact on me, you know? I just feel... empty. It's lonely out there without you."
"Should've thought of that before you fucked that chick on your birthday party," you nearly snarl at him, attempting to stand up from the couch but his hand holds you down from doing so.
His eyes are screaming with desperation. "Don't you think everyone deserves a second chance? It's been such a long time – more than enough for me to think everything over. I won't take you for granted again, YN."
"Everyone deserves a second chance, except for cheaters like you."
"I'm sor-"
"I'm tired, Heeseung," you interrupt him, hand running over your exhausted features. You notice how he swallows hardly, so you continue before he can, "Can we just not do it? I'm fucking wasted, Heeseung. Do you really think this is the right time to talk about this shit?"
With a sigh, he nods at end of it all. "I guess you're right."
"I'm always right," you mumble before leaning your heavy head on his shoulder.
The feeling is so familiar that you feel tears beginning to push on your eyes mercilessly. But the both of you say nothing. You sit in silence, eyelids refusing to open from the exhaustion.
And it's alarming how much comfort you still soak from his presence alone after everything he's put you through. One would think that you'd want nothing to do with the one who cheated on you and broke your heart into pieces, ruining every other man for you. Yet you can't help but relax in his touch as his smooth fingers graze over your arms. You just... let him wrap yourself around his finger all over again.
You let the first and the last tear drop down your cheek.
"Please, be gone by the morning," you whisper into the silence with a tight throat, face pressing to the crook of his neck. Just this one last time.
And he listens, like he always does. And when you wake up, the only thing assuring you that last night wasn't a dream is door of the top cabinet in your kitchen left barely ajar yet still not properly closed – Heeseung's habit that used to annoy the living hell out of you.
The sudden flood of memories start hollering in your brain and you close your eyes, pressing your palms roughly to them.
Despite all of the voices in your head telling you against it, you reach for your phone laying on the coffee table. Your fingers automatically dial his number that you had memorized by the time of your fifth date and you dig your nails into the flesh on your thigh as you wait with anticipation to hear his voice again.
No matter how much you hate Lee Heeseung, you're self-destructive enough to love him even more. And as much as it hurt to admit to yourself last night, two years was not enough to get over him either.
permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk
#carly's 1k event ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა#1k event: requests ✎#enhypen imagines#enhypen#enhypen x reader#heeseung imagines#heeseung x reader#lee heeseung x reader
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