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spdrvyn · 1 year

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i'll be lonely with you — MIGUEL O'HARA

SUMMARY: with the passage of time and whispers from your acquaintances at the spider society HQ, you've found out that your boss has a habit of sneaking out of his office during the dead hours of night to eat dinner. completely alone.

NOTES: new formatting for fics !!! do you guys like it? :3 i decided to include summaries that way it would be easier for people to understand the general jist of the plot without me spewing nonsense in the notes. anyways enjoy !!!!! thanks for the support on my recent works as well ^_^

You didn't consider yourself the most introverted person.

Even when it came to hundreds of Spider-people, you tried to get to know who you could and become acquainted with as many of them as possible. How could you not?

However, there were few that you knew on a more personal level. People that you'd keep close to your side whenever you visited headquarters. People that you'd enjoy having an exchange of gossip with during lunch in the bustling cafeteria.

Miguel O'Hara wasn't exactly one of those people.

It's not like you didn't want to develop something more than a boss-coworker relationship. Though, conversations with him were always difficult, to the say the least. Most of the time, he's talking about work and anything that goes past that boundary goes unspoken.

Quite literally. You've forgotten the amount of times that you've built up the courage to mention anything about your other (not deceased) relatives or your friends and the amount of times that the room was filled with a silence so awkward that crickets are on the same volume as missile launchers.

Though, you didn't want to lose hope. You sort of understood where he was coming from. People go through grief and mourning in different ways, Miguel's was probably just isolation and a complete avoidance of discussions of personal life.

He was a leader. A good one. A trait of a good leader is to connect with their subordinates, establish relationships. So it really made you think.

How messed up was he that he missed that one quality?

"Hey. Your food's getting cold." There it goes, the sound of your train of thought leaving the station. Sometimes, you were grateful for Jess being there for you. She could snap you back to reality you like nobody else could.

You mutter an apology before stabbing your salad with your fork and taking a bite, Jess rests her head on her palm. Raising a brow at you, "So, did you want to eat lunch with me for fun or are you just using me to get info about Miguel? Again?"

Nervously, you shake your head. "It's nothing like that!" She leans in a little more, waving her other free hand in the air in a circular motion.

"...But if you have anything that you'd like to share then I'm not going to refuse entirely—"

"Oh my god. Fine, fine. What do you want to know?"

With that question, it felt like your mind blanked. You fidgeted with your fork, twirling a leaf of your salad against the plate as you pondered on what question to ask.

Jess responds with a deep sigh, "If you're trying to find a way to talk to him more, he doesn't leave that office of his much unless it's for work. He's in there most of time. Although..."

"Although?"

"Although, I've seen him come here normally somewhere around midnight to get a very late dinner alone. The place is less crowded, most are just in their own universe or sleeping or working."

Your face falls a little upon hearing that. "So I can only catch a non-serious conversation with him... in the middle of the night?"

"Exactly. Besides, there's a good chance he's going to just— continue talking about work with you whether he's in his office or not. You know that, right?"

You drop your utensil in defeat, burying your face shamefully in your hands. "I know..."

You quickly wrap up your lunch with Jess, as she shares bits and pieces about him. You had really wondered how she was able to learn all of these things about him anyway but before you had the opportunity to ask her, she told you to not.

Respecting her wishes, you keep your mouth shut. Respecting her even further, you decide to pack up both of your plates and wave her a goodbye before picking up those thoughts that you were left a while ago.

Admittedly, you didn't know why you were so persistent for something like this, for someone like him.

Determination was a strength of yours but that didn't mean that you didn't know where your limits rested and you would back off when you needed to.

There was just something. A swirling feeling in your gut that was telling you to keep going.

That it would be worth it.

So, you follow everything that Jess told you. Around midnight, he'd be alone, in the cafeteria, and looking for an empanada to snack on before heading back into his office. A very small fraction of his time left for personal conversation if you tried hard enough!

This most likely wasn't a good idea. You didn't sleep at all through the day but the thrill kept you alive and thriving. You confidently stride up to the counters of the cafeteria, picking out a small bag of chips for yourself and the last empanada for your soon-to-be snack companion.

Now, you wait.

You surveyed your surroundings and as you were doing that, you realize why he particularly emerges during these kinds of hours to eat. There was a significantly less amount of people.

Whenever you came here during the day, it was a miracle to be able to find completely empty seats. At times, you were forced to sit with a group of people.

You weren't entirely ungrateful for that though, you've made a lot of friends that way. Sure, it was awkward at first but the more you were forced to interact with people that way, the more you adapted to making small talk.

Even then, there were a lot of tables that were taken here save for one completely empty one at the far end.

Then, you finally see that navy and red suit.

Deciding to observe him just a little bit more, you watch him curse under his breath seeing the display case for the empanadas empty. Before he walks away any further, you tap him on the shoulder.

His mask was on, his eyes widen a little bit before you hand him the small box. "I saved the last one for you."

With a soft huff, you see the muscles in his shoulders and back grow loose once more, he hestitantly takes the container from your hands. Looking at it then looking back at you, "Thanks."

You two share a few seconds of awkward silence, you felt a little exposed. You decided to unmask for this because you wanted him to feel more comfortable talking to you rather than who you were as a Spider-person yet there's still that same awkwardness in the air.

Clearly without nothing to do and no idea on how to makem something better out of this, Miguel's about to walk off before you stop him once more.

"W— wait," A little piece of yourself dies inside as you hear yourself stutter but nevertheless, you keep going. "Uh, there aren't any other spots so is it alright if I sit you? I don't know any of the people here."

The way that you see the eyes through his masks narrow ever so slightly once the question escapes your throat makes your heart quiver like crazy.

You wanted to get to know him but damn, if you said that he didn't scare you sometimes then you would be lying.

You cry on the inside with sweet victory as he says...

"Fine."

That was it. That was all you got but you gladly take it! You have to catch up to him though because once you're done mentally celebrating, he's already a little bit far from you.

You try your hardest to keep your head straight but you can't help but look up and spare him one glance, the fact that you even had to look up at him really only emphasized your height difference with him.

Another factor that made you just a little bit more intimidated by him, his physique. You considered yourself to be of average height, you weren't the tallest person in the room but you were never the shortest as well. Just average.

The way he practically towered over you, his hand nearly being the size of your head. It made you feel something.

The moment that both of you have a seat, you take your opportunity.

"So, is there anything that you plan on doing after this?"

You get a little distracted once his mask comes off, he raises an eyebrow at you, crimson eyes that feel like they're looking straight into your soul. Though, side-tracked as he bites into the dough and meaty goodness of his empanada, with a shrug— he replies,

"Not really. Unless there's an anomaly I haven't heard of yet then I have no plans. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing. Was just curious is all." Why was this so hard?!

The conversation goes as what you expected. You'd ask a question every moment or so and he'd give you a short response before going back to his food. He wouldn't ask you anything back, wouldn't add any 'unnecessary' comments. Just bask in the silence.

You simply couldn't take it anymore, you didn't know how to express your interest in him without asking him more questions about himself which he seems to avoid trying to answer.

You couldn't ask him about his hobbies because he'll most likely say that he's too busy working to actually spend time gaining and branching out to different interests.

Dejectedly, you sigh. "I'm sorry for imposing— on your alone time, I mean." It was like everything that you wanted to say just kept spilling out of your mouth.

"I didn't want to eat with you at this hour because I pity you or— or I found you lonely or whatever. I just thought that whenever you weren't talking about work, we'd be able to get along."

You stand up from your seat, eyes mindlessly darting arounf the labels of the bag of 'Spider-O's' in your clutches.

"I'll, uhm, let you eat in peace now. Once again, I'm—"

"Wait."

Which ever brain cells died from that interaction certainly reignited now. "Sit back down," It comes off an order. An order you certainly obey.

"I wouldn't have actually said yes to you if I didn't want to talk." He starts. "I know a lot of people but it's not in the same way that you do. I know their names, their faces, their canon events. You know their feelings, their mindscapes, and their troubles—"

"—And those are the exact kinds of things that I can't comprehend most of the time. We understand people differently, is what I'm saying. I still have no idea why exactly you sought out me of all people but I will... try to gain this new perspective of things."

You want to tamp down the smile that creeps up on your lips as you hear those words but you can't. What he said, it all made sense now. You couldn't see the full picture still, but you were willing to find it—

"I understand. It's fine."

"So? Do you have plans after this?"

Together.

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #fluff #romance #kind of #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #atsv #jessica drew #jess drew #spiderwoman #made this one extra sappy for u guys #miguel can be #so hard to write sometimes #hope i did him justice here

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fxrmuladaydreams · 1 month

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Hiii!! For Oscar's weekend could you do a sfw fic where Oscar and reader have been friends for a few years, reader is an F1 journalist, they met when she started working at the paddock, and they compliment each other well, she's really sunshine-y and bubbly, speaks a lot, but also has anxiety, and Oscar is, well, Oscar. They are out or smth and a guy starts bothering reader, so Oscar goes over to her and says he's her boyfriend or something and kisses her. Then I'll let you choose the rest, with the prompt: "There's a reason why I kissed you, you idiot" or smth like that?

Thank you, and sorry if this doesn't make too much sense, it's my first request, thank youuu.

send in requests (sfw & nsfw) for oscar weekend

The two of you were perfect for each other, a match made in heaven. Anyone in the paddock could see it, lord knows Oscar’s had to deal with Lando’s endless teasing about it. Even fans could see it in interviews, though they couldn’t really see you, they could clearly see the lovestruck look on the Aussie’s face as he listened to you ask him questions.

It wasn’t uncommon for the journalists and the drivers to form a sort of relationship, with the overlap of retired drivers that had decided to try their hand at commentary, but an actual friendship was rare.

Even then that didn’t stop a friendship from blooming with the younger McLaren driver. A friendship that often toed the line between platonic and romantic.

You found yourself spending more and more time at the McLaren garages, at first hoping to catch a glimpse of the young Australian, but now because he had mentioned that he’d like to hang out with you whenever you had free time in the paddock.

Photos and videos of the two of you in the paddock had begun to surface. Most of which were of you talking, usually looking down at the ground or your hands that were gesturing around, with Oscar tilting his head down, listening intently to every word from your mouth with a smile on his face.

Fans had begun comparing the two of you to Rapunzel and Flynn Rider, posting side by side photos of the two of you, and Rapunzel and Flynn on the boat. You blushed and waved them off when they were sent to you, positive that people were looking too far into your relationship with Oscar, that he simply thought of you as a friend, nothing less, and nothing more.

You were wrong of course, so very wrong. Oscar adored you. He loved having you around, he felt it was easier to open up. He had been so passive during his rookie season that it had become a label for him to wear. With you around, he felt like he could let his true personality shine through. He could make sarcastic quips and could be more outgoing.

So of course he’d asked you to accompany him to a club Lando had insisted they go to after a race weekend. You agreed, knowing that it wasn’t really Oscar’s scene, nor was it yours but you knew you’d go anywhere if it meant you were going with him.

You made sure to keep close to Oscar while in the club, both of you tucked away in a corner. You tried to ignore the feeling of his arm wrapped around your waist and the heat radiating from his body as you stood pressed against him.

He kept his eyes trained on the crowds in the club, knowing full well that if he were to look down at you he may end up doing something he’d regret.

“I’m gonna get us some drinks.” He leans down to say in your ear.

You nod up at him, giving him a small smile. The smile falls off your face as soon as he steps away. You feel even more crowded than you did when Oscar was there. There are people everywhere, and you quickly lose sight of Oscar as he makes his way to the bar.

“Hey.” A voice says next to you.

It’s a man, a man that happens to be standing far too close for your liking.

“Hi.” You say, taking a step back.

He gives you a smirk, looking you up and down. “What are you doing here all alone?”

You glance in the direction Oscar went, still unable to see him, then at the DJ booth, where Lando stands with a few other people, unaware of anything outside his little circle.

“I’m actually here with-”

“Her boyfriend.”

You turn to see Oscar and let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. He stands tall, his chest puffed out a bit, and his eyes daring the offending man to continue talking to you. One of his arms wraps around you, pulling you into his side.

“You can be on your way now.” Oscar grits out.

“Sorry man, I didn’t realize she was taken.” The man raises his hands as if surrendering and melts back into the crowds.

“Thanks Os, he was making me really uncomfortable.” You tell him.

“I could tell.” He furrows his brows, still looking into the crowd. “He’s watching us.”

One of your hands instinctively holds onto his bicep. “What should we do?”

Oscar could see the man making his way towards them again. He gently cups your face so you’re looking up at him.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

People say they experience fireworks and butterflies when they kiss the person they love. Neither of those is true for your kiss with Oscar.

The club feels silent, or muted. Like everything has gone quiet in your world except for Oscar. All you can focus on is his body as it leans into yours, his hands as they move from your face to the back of your head, how his hair swoops down brushing against your forehead.

You feel dizzy when he pulls away, disoriented. He clears his throat, and turns to look back into the crowd again.

“He’s gone.”

“Good.” You squeak out, trying to compose yourself.

You stand together awkwardly, both of you afraid of what has happened between you.

“Do you wanna head back to the hotel?” Oscar asks.

You nod.

He places a hand on the small of your back and guides you to the exit, making sure to keep you in front of him.

The walk back to the hotel is filled with more awkward silence. You can’t help but notice he’s keeping a larger distance between you than normal.

“Are things going to be… different? Between us?” Oscar asks. He keeps his head down, too afraid to look at you.

“Do you want things to be different?” You ask him quietly.

He huffs out a laugh. “There’s a reason why I kissed you.” He glances over at you, then sighs. “I mean, it was something I wanted to do for a while now. I guess it took some dickwad making you uncomfortable for me to finally get the balls to do it.”

You let out a laugh at his phrasing. “Well, if it makes you feel any better,” you take his hand in yours, linking your fingers together “I’ve wanted that too.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” You nod, pulling him closer.

“Good, then you won’t mind if I do it again? For real this time?”

“Absolutely not.” You grin up at him.

#oscar piastri x reader #formula one x reader #oscar weekend

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 3 months

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Before You Go

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: Reader is a grad student in college trying to work hard for her degree, but a certain green eyed stranger keeps showing up and turns her life upside down. Will she push him away? Or will she finally realize that he’s not going anywhere? (I’m so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Tropes: Angst, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Age Difference (Reader is early to mid-20's and Dean is probably early 30's)

Word Count: 5.5K (I have an addiction don't judge me)

Warnings: Some swearing (once or twice), mentions of sex (not explicit at all), implied sex, self-deprecating thoughts (Dean), Dean might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. I’m not going to lie, this one is a little self-indulgent. This is only my second supernatural fic, so please be gentle. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Masterlist

Part 2

********************************************

"Did you understand anything from that lecture?" Tim asks nudging your shoulder.

The sour smell of beer and sweat fades in and out of your nose as you make your way to the Science building through the mass of students on the way to the football game. It was a Thursday night, Thursday night for everyone else meant tailgating, cheap beer, and face paint, but Thursday night for you meant four hours in the anatomy lab surrounded by the oppressive smell of formaldehyde and bent over a table examining the internal intricacies of the human body.

It wasn’t unwelcome, you knew what you signed up for when you decided to go to medical school, but you still wished that the lab was earlier in the day instead of at 6 pm.

The air is filled with the dull throb of energy, pulsing with the music from speakers all over campus, and through the throngs of people that pass you on the way to the stadium. The buzz of excitement in the air vibrated through your nerve endings. If you paid attention to how well the football team was doing, you would have known that tonight was the championship, but the closest you got to pigskin was the bag of pork rinds in your backpack and the occasional football player that asked you for help finding research materials during your shifts at the library.

"Nope." You reply jostling past a group of guys toting a giant stuffed pig wearing jersey of the school’s rival while they catcall some girls up ahead dressed from head to toe in bright red.

"Then why did you keep nodding?"

"Because Professor Drake was staring right at me!"

"You didn't have to make eye contact."

"It's a little late for that don't you think?" You smile up at him. He's taller than you, with dark hair falling forward into his glasses and a lean build. "But it's alright, I'll just binge watch YouTube videos."

Tim laughs adjusting his backpack over his shoulder. You had been lab partners since your first year, randomly assigned and forced to collaborate, but after many late night study sessions and mental breakdowns, Tim was one of your only friends.

“You seem to spend a lot of time on YouTube." He smiles.

"It's free education."

"Seems ridiculous to pay all this money just to learn it on YouTube."

"If YouTube handed out degrees for watching videos I’d be a doctor by now. I’d probably also have a degree in culinary arts.” You look down to check the watch on your wrist. You were both running late for lab. Dr. Welsh hated it when students were late, in fact, he was notorious for locking the door. Each week there was always some poor soul that banged on the door for entry, but Dr. Welsh knew no mercy. One time, you witnessed another student attempt to sneak in through the window an hour late. Dr. Welsh made them go back out the way they came, despite the lab being on the third floor.

At least the student brought a ladder with him.

“Culinary arts?”

“I like pie. Plus baking helps me cope with my stress.” You knock into his shoulder to shut him up. “What? You don’t watch anything weird on YouTube?”

“I usually start watching videos to understand the lectures and suddenly it’s been 7 hours, it’s 3 am and I’m watching a timelapse of metal rusting.”

“We’ve all been there buddy.”

"Hey doll-face!" You hear from somewhere behind you, but you ignore it, believing it to be another group of guys who splash beer over the sidewalk.

You glance down at your watch again.

"We're not going to be late." Jake says sensing your anxiety. "We've got 5 minutes."

"Early is on time, on time is late, late is inexcusable." You sing-song.

"Dr. Welsh embroider that on a pillow for you?"

"No it’s just-"

Someone grabs your backpack and pulls you back a step. What the- You whirl around prepared to cuss out a drunken frat boy, but you weren't expecting Dean Winchester.

"Dean." You say in surprise.

He looks better than you remember. Dean's wearing a red flannel covered by a black jacket, his hair tousled just the right amount to look effortless, his green eyes crinkled around the edges as his mouth pulls into a smile that makes your knees weak.

Your relationship, if you could even call it that, began your first week of classes, two years ago. You had just moved into your apartment and met your new roommate, but instead of going out to the new student mixer with her, you decided to stay in and unpack. It was past midnight when you heard a commotion in the apartment next door and when you opened your front door to investigate, you found Dean in the hallway leaning against the wall. His clothes were torn, he had a knife in his hand, blood was soaked through the front of his shirt, but when his eyes met yours, you weren't afraid. He looked so broken, so small that you had to help him. So you pulled him into your apartment and stitched him up the best you could, while he tried to lie about how it happened and explain why he looked like he'd been through a blender. Dean had never been good at lying to you, not even then. He was also the biggest baby you had ever met when it came to wound care.

In the months that followed Dean continued to show up, each time with injuries less and less life threatening asking you to help him, until one day he showed up perfectly fine and continued to show up. You would spend every minute together for a few days and then he would leave like nothing happened, only to show up again in a few weeks and it would start all over again. Sometimes you thought that he wanted more than just a few days together, but then he would just leave, not giving you any other explanation. You hadn't expected to fall for him as hard as you did, but each time he left it broke you. You found yourself hoping each day that he would show up, only to be disappointed when he didn't. Days would drag by fading into shades of gray until finally Dean would show up and everything went back to color, only to sink back into monochrome when he left. The last time you had seen him was a month ago, when you told him that you couldn't do this anymore and told him not to come back.

But now he was here, again.

"Hey Doll-face." Dean smiles wider.

You try to ignore how your heart stutters in your chest when he smiles at you.

"Do you know this guy?" Tim asks you taking a step forward to put himself between Dean and you.

Dean's eyes trace Tim, smile slipping into confident smirk as he sizes him up. He opens his mouth, but you interrupt whatever thought was about to come out.

"Unfortunately I do." You sigh. "Tim can you give us a minute."

"Sure. But-"

"I know." You say, understanding that he was going to remind you what time it was. "We won't be late."

"I'll be over there." Tim puts a healthy distance between the two of you, far enough to give you space, but close enough that he can see you.

Dean is still smirking at him. "Boyfriend?" His eyes flit to yours, amused.

"Lab partner." You adjust your grip on your backpack unsure what to do.

I said everything I needed to say the last time. I thought that was it. Did he think I didn't mean it?

You think about the last time he was here, when you told him that you couldn't do this anymore and when he finally left, how you skipped all your classes and stayed in bed for two days clutching a pillow to your chest and wishing that it was him. It had felt like the end. The end of whatever the hell this had been. Sometimes you wished that you had defined it the first time you slept together, wished that you had told him you didn't do that ever, that you didn't just sleep with people without feelings because you knew sooner or later it would end up like this.

Then again you knew that you always had feelings for him, since the moment you locked eyes with his the night you met.

"He’s cute. If you’re into that geeky kind of thing. Though you could always date Sam-"

"What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood. Plus I didn’t want to miss the big game.” Dean's eyes flit to the mass of people swarming around you, shouting and singing as they stumble down the cracked pavement. The dark shadows of the buildings stretch long over campus, illuminated by the lamplights that line the sidewalks.

"You should have called"

"I did. You never pick up" He arches a perfect eyebrow.

"Most would take that as a hint"

"Well Sweetheart given my profession you not picking up made me worry."

By now you knew exactly what he did. Despite Dean not acting like he wanted a relationship, when all was quiet and it was just the two of you laying in bed he confided in you, told you things about his life that made you hold him close and wish that you could make him forget all about it. You loved those soft moments with Dean, when it felt like more and you could imagine that Dean wanted to be as wrapped up in you as you were in him.

Your heart clenches in your chest as you try to forget it all, forget the day he walked into your life, and forget how much you like him.

"I can’t do this with you right now, I’ve got a lab in 3 minutes." You turn towards where Tim is standing, prepared to leave.

"Come on you can blow off one lab.” Dean grabs your backpack turning you back to face him. “We can go to the big game. You know I can’t say no to free beer-“ The look in his eyes is joking.

He doesn't understand.

You shake him off. "No I can't Dean. This is important to me. This is my life. I can't drop everything just because you show up out of the blue."

"It wouldn't be out of the blue if you picked up your phone." His smile dips into an attractive pout that makes it very difficult to think.

"Dean why are you here?"

"I told you, I was in the neighborhood-"

"We talked about this. I can't do this anymore."

"I remember you talking about it."

"Yes and I remember you leaving." You snap as the memory of the last time you saw him rises in the back of your throat. You think about the days that followed, when you couldn't focus and flunked a test.

"Y/n-“ Dean sighs.

"Look, I like spending time with you, but I can't keep doing this to myself. You show up, we spend every second together for days, and then you leave. It would be one thing if we were trying to do long distance, but we’re not. All I get is radio silence for weeks and then you show up all over again like nothing happened, expecting to pick up right where we left off, and the cycle begins all over again."

"I don't go radio silent for weeks. It’s you that doesn’t pick up your phone or text me back.”

"Yes you do and I can't do it. I won't do it. Because every time you leave I wonder if it's the last time I'll ever see you and-" You take in a breath to stop the ball of emotion that lodges itself in your throat. "It does something to me. And I'm not saying that what you do is any less important than what I'm trying to accomplish here. I’m not telling you to stop hunting. But this is my life Dean, my future. And I don’t want to put that in jeopardy because you show up every few weeks when you’re feeling restless. I want more than a few days every few weeks. I want more and I'm worth more. And if you can't give that to me that's fine, but please stop coming around and so I can find someone else who can."

The expression on Dean's face shifts, it's no longer the playful smirk or attractive pout, it almost looks heartbroken.

But that can't be right. Dean doesn't see me that way.

You look at where Tim is waiting for you to avoid Dean's gaze. He’s looking down at the watch on his wrist and you can feel his apprehension.

"I've got to get to my lab." You turn away from Dean, but stop halfway to Tim. "It was good to see you Dean. I wish you the best."

As Tim and you begin to walk away, you can feel Dean's eyes on you the whole way up the stairs into the science building, but you refuse to turn back.

"Are you okay?" Tim whispers.

"I will be. Let's just go before Dr. Welsh locks the door." You mutter while pushing down the guilt that rose when you thought of how Dean looked when you walked away.

********************************************

Despite Dr. Welsh’s attempts to lock the door, you were far too angry with Dean to let another man stand in your way, so when you and Tim arrived to lab 10 seconds before the clock struck 6, you shoved your boot in the door before Dr. Welsh could shut it. And by some miracle he let you in. Maybe it was the murder in your eyes.

Tim had been stunned, you were usually more reserved, not quick tempered. But everything that happened with Dean rubbed you the wrong way.

You couldn’t decide if you liked him or hated him. Right now the hate was winning.

How dare he? You thought to yourself, hand clenching on the scalpel so tightly that Tim backed up. How dare he just show up again after I told him not to?

“Y/n, are you okay?” Tim had asked.

“I’m fine. Don’t I look fine?” You’d snapped at him.

Even Dr. Welsh had given you a wide berth through lab.

After you cleaned up everything it was 10:26 pm, which meant you had a little time before your late shift in the library.

“Did you want to go see if that shawarma food truck is still parked around the corner?” Tim asks hesitantly.

“No. I’m just gonna go to the library and study before my shift.” You mumble, shouldering your backpack and ignoring the urge to think about Dean.

Hopefully he took the hint and he’s gone. The thought brought a prick of guilt. Would that be the last time I ever saw him? Would those be the last words I ever said to him? You fight the urge to call him, to apologize, because the one thing you had wanted to say was that you liked him and you didn’t want him to go, you wanted him to stay in your life permanently. Sure long distance was hard, but for him it would be worth it.

“Oh.” Tim pauses for a minute. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Huh?”

“Well that Dean guy. You seemed kinda upset.”

“I was- am. But it’s okay, give me a few hours I’ll be over it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

“Make sure to send the link to that Timelapse of metal rusting.” You try to smile, but the joke falls flat.

“Okay.” Tim watches you go.

The library was only a 9 minute walk from the science building, but it still felt too long. You longed to be lost in your notes, to think of anything else other than Dean, but you couldn’t.

Why did he have to come back? Why couldn’t he have just let it lie? I was doing better- You think about the weeks that followed his last visit, a haze of homework, tests, and work. Well, I was doing okay.

The thrum of music is still in the air, but now less people pass you as you walk down the sidewalk, and the ones that do are holding hands and laughing. Your thoughts shift to Dean again.

I like him, but I have to get over him because it’s not going anywhere. You think about the first time you slept together. Maybe this is my fault, maybe I should have defined this from the beginning. I mean, I know the kind of person he is… That thought makes you pause. Sure the first few times you’d patched his wounds Dean was sexy and flirty, but all the times that followed he seemed, sweet, charming. It wasn’t that you spent every moment in bed, he had taken you out to dinner at the diner down the street, fought with you over the last slice of pie, took you to a bar for drinks where he shamelessly beat you at pool, other times he waited for you to be done with your classes to make sure that you didn't have to walk home alone at night. You remember how mad he had been when you told him you did that, but gas was so expensive and it was easier to walk the four blocks.

Someone grabs your arm from behind, pulling you out of your memories, and you finally snap. Using the only self defense move you knew, besides S-I-N-G from Miss Congeniality, you knock off the hand and flip the offender over your shoulder prepared to spray them in the face with the mace in your pocket.

But then you realize who it is.

Dean frowns up at you from the ground. “When I taught you that, I didn’t expect you to use it on me.”

“Just be happy that I didn’t pepper spray you.” Your eyes narrow.

Maybe I should. It would make me feel better.

“Would have been the highlight of my night.” He stands up from the ground brushing off the front of his clothes with a pointed look.

“Dean what are you still doing here?”

“I want to talk.”

“I’ve said all I need to.”

“But I haven’t.”

“I don’t care. You’ve heard what I need to say and I’m sick of you not listening.”

“Y/n-“

“Fine, I’ll say it one more time, but listen this time. I've never, never depended on anyone else in my life. It's been me, me for a long time.” You poke your finger into his chest to emphasize your point. “Then you just sauntered in and changed everything. You made me care about you, worry about you, and you made me depend on you showing up in my life. Every time you leave it breaks me. Every time I’m in a funk for days. The last time you left, I cried for two days and I didn’t go to any of my classes! I'm trying to be serious about my life. And I can't do that if you show up every few weeks and make me expect something and then leave a few days later and I'm devastated.”

Dean’s eyes widen in surprise. “I didn’t know that.”

“I have to get over you Dean, and I can't do that if you keep showing up. So please just go.” You turn away from him.

His hand comes down on your arm again to turn you back to him. “I don’t want you to get over me.”

“What?”

“Do you think I like leaving you? Do you really think it’s that easy for me?” He looks hurt.

“It certainly seems to be when you walk out after a few days with a smile like it means nothing! Like I mean nothing-“ You fight the tears that burn against your eyes. You wanted to be something for him just as much as he was something for you, but you were afraid. You hadn’t depended on anyone since you graduated and moved away from home. You weren’t used to needing someone in your life this much.

"You mean everything!” Dean shouts grabbing your shoulders. “It’s me that means nothing."

You blink your eyes for a second, not comprehending what he’s trying to say. "Dean what are you talking about?"

"I didn't think you wanted that-" He looks down.

Your eyes trace the slump in his shoulders, the frown on his handsome face, and the way he won’t meet your gaze.

What is he talking about?

You try to think of a time that you’d seen him look so vulnerable, but the only time you imagine was the night you met.

"Wanted what?"

"Me.” Dean’s voice is a whisper.

"I'm confused."

His eyebrows are furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line. “I’m nothing like you.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You’re a little younger than me and you’re smart and you’ve got this bright future ahead of you. You don’t need someone like me dragging you down-“

“Someone like you? Dragging me down? Dean what are you talking about?" You can't comprehend what he's saying. You reach up to cup his cheeks, but Dean pulls back from you, glancing away.

“I didn’t go to a fancy college, I barely finished high school. I’ve spent most of my life in motel rooms committing credit card fraud and trying not to die. And then I met you. You’re funny and caring and so smart, and I just thought that you would like it more if I came by every once in a while to relieve some tension. I didn’t think that you would want me to stay.”

He didn’t think that I would want him? That can't be right. Dean is so confident usually. You search his face and see the genuine vulnerability behind his green eyes.

“Are you serious?” You ask him.

He doesn’t say anything.

“Dean, you are smart-“

“Not the same way you are”

“Dean.” You can’t help but take his hand. Dean’s green eyes focus on yours for a second, wide and open. “You don’t have to go to college to be smart. You’re resourceful and you know more about supernatural creatures than anyone else. Even the top scientists and doctors in the world don’t believe in them and they went to stuffy old colleges and fight with one another over who’s smarter. I don’t care that you didn’t go to a fancy college. What you do is important, probably more important than what I’m going to do. You protect people, you’ve saved the world more than once, and sure maybe it’s not glamorous to some people but it is to me.”

His eyes widen in surprise.

“Have you thought that maybe I like spending time with you because you’re so different than the people I see everyday?” You ask him softly, squeezing his hand.

“No.” Dean mutters.

“I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I don’t have lavish wealthy parents bankrolling me. My dad is a mechanic. I work two jobs and send him money so I don’t have to worry about him. Sometimes I feel like a fraud. But when you show up I don’t feel like a freak. With you I feel like I don’t have to pretend, I can just be me. And I like you, a lot. This has never just been about relieving tension or sex for me. Ever. I mean it’s nice-“

“Just nice?” Dean raises an eyebrow.

You flush bright red. “I like spending time with you without that too. All the times we spent laying in bed or went to a bar or went to get food, and we talked were equally as wonderful for me. I like talking with you. I like hearing about your life. I just assumed that you had someone in every state that you visit when you’re feeling restless and that you didn’t want a relationship.”

“There’s no one else. Hasn’t been since I met you.”

Deans eyes lock with yours as you comprehend what he just confessed.

“Really?” Your voice is only a whisper.

“Fuck I’m not good at this romantic comedy shit-“ He mutters to himself shaking his head. “I like you too. I wish that I could be here all the time. I hate leaving you. It’s too quiet. When I’m not here all I do is think about you, what you’re doing, how your day was.”

Your entire body explodes with his words, heart beating so fast you think it’ll grow wings and take flight.

“When I was younger I used to laugh at Sam because he wanted a normal life, but with you I understand. You’re so different than anyone I’ve ever met and it hurts me when I’m away from you.” Dean continues with a soft smile that makes you lose all feeling in your legs.

He takes your other hand. “I understand that what you’re doing is important and I’m not asking you to quit school. All I’m asking is that you give me a chance. I want to make this work. I know that long distance isn’t easy, but I want to try.” His eyes search yours, begging for a answer, but you can barely breathe let alone speak. You watch his face fall as he takes your silence as your answer. “But I understand if you don’t want to, because you are worth more. You’re worth more than a few days, than a phone call or a text. You deserve someone who can be here with you all the time. You’re worth more than what I can give you. And you shouldn’t have to settle-“

You grab the front of his flannel because you can’t think of anything to say and pull him down to you for a kiss. Pins and needles trace down your spine as his soft lips move against yours. He smiles against your mouth, folding you into him, his large hand on the small of your back just under your backpack causing warmth to shoot down your spine. You lose yourself in the way his body fits around yours

“I’m not settling.” Your hands cup his cheeks as you look deep into his eyes. “I never want you to feel that way, because you are worth a hundred of any man I have ever met in my life. And if it’s my cross to bear to make you understand that every day of my life, then so be it. Because I would be lucky to spend any amount of time with you. I don’t want anyone else. I just want you, Dean. I’ve wanted you since the day we met and every day after. And I’m yours as long as you want me.”

Dean’s smile breaks open something in the pit of your stomach and goosebumps scorch across your skin. “I can’t imagine not wanting you.” He presses his forehead against yours.

You stand there with his warm hand pressed into your back trying to think of another time that you felt even a fraction of what you feel for him. You think about your high school boyfriend, about a few of the guys you dated in during your undergrad years, but you come up with nothing. Because you can’t compare him to anyone else you’ve ever met. And it hurt you to think that Dean thought so little of himself in the grand scheme of things.

He leans down to kiss you again, pulling you against his chest so tight that everything blissfully falls away.

“Are you hungry?” He whispers against your lips after a minute.

“Yes, but my shift at the library starts soon. I’m there til 2.” You tighten your hands at the back of his neck, not wanting to let him go.

“Okay. I’ll go with you.”

“Dean it’s okay if you just want to go back to my apartment and sleep. I can give you the key-“ You notice the dark circles under his eyes, but you know that Dean wasn’t one to complain about being tired.

“It’s worth being tired if I get to see you.” Dean smiles. “But I’ll go get us some food, because I’m hungry too.”

“Don’t forget the pie.”

“Have I ever?” He brushes his lips to yours one more time, but you don’t remove your arms from around his neck. “You’re going to have to let me go doll.”

“Just 5 more minutes.”

********************************************

You spend the weekend together in your apartment. All those blissful moments together solidify the thought that this is real, that this time it’s going to be different. Every night going to bed with Dean tucking you against him and waking up every morning with your head on his chest feels like a dream, and you never want to wake. Every kiss and intimate moment between you feels like more, and you have to keep reminding yourself that it isn’t just sex, hasn’t ever been just sex. Dean wants to be there with you all the time, hold you close to him and share things with you. And this time you finally understand that you do help him forget and know that you do bring him as much comfort as he brings you.

When Monday comes and Dean has to go, you try not to think of it as the end.

Dean leans back against the door of the Impala, his hands on your hips, green eyes blazing in the sun, but it’s his eyes that warm you more than the sun’s rays.

"Sweetheart-" Dean begins, sensing what you’re thinking. His thumbs rub smooth circles against waist where your t-shirt rests.

"I know." You press your face into his flannel, inhaling the scent you ascribe to Dean. He smells like oil, leather, and the spicy scent of the soap he uses that tickles your nose.

"Hey." His free hand comes under your chin to raise your gaze back to his. "I promise I'm gonna come back. I promise that we're going to make this work. It’s going to be different.” He cups your cheek, eyes soft and understanding.

“I know, but you’re still leaving.” Your tighten your arms around his chest.

“I wish I didn’t have to. But Sam called, he needs me-“

“I know.” You breathe.

You don’t want Dean to feel any worse than he does about leaving, especially when you remember what he said to you a few days ago, about you deserving more and about how he wished he could be more for you. Deep down you know that both of you are determined to make this work, so you put on a smile.

“It’s okay.” You gently rub his back. “You’ll be back in 2 weeks and I’ll be on spring break in a month.”

“Does that mean I’ll get to see you in a bikini?” Dean grins.

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

“Hmm. Well until I see you-“ He raises his right hand from where it rests on your hip to remove the large silver ring from his finger. "Don't panic, it's not an engagement ring." Dean's smile breaks you a little. "Just me promising that I'll come back, that I'll call and text you so much that you'll be sick of me." He slides the ring onto your thumb, the weight comforting.

"I could never be sick of you."

“Just you wait.” He winks, holding your hand to his chest. “I bet I can prove you wrong.”

“I welcome the challenge.”

The kiss goodbye is bittersweet, but you hold yourself together, refusing to cry as Dean gets into his car and leaves. You watch the Impala disappear around the corner, taking your heart with it, but just as it does your phone rings.

“Hello?”

“I miss you.” Dean’s voice fills the line and this time you can’t stop the tears.

“I miss you too.”

“I promise I’ll be back in two weeks.”

“Okay. Please be careful.” You remember all the stories he's told you over the time you’ve known him, all the horrible things that happened to him and Sam. Sometimes you wish he hadn’t, because you can’t help but worry.

“I’m always careful.” You can hear him rolling his eyes.

“As the person who has spent the past 2 years patching you up, I can say with certainty that you are not always careful.”

“Then I promise to be more careful than usual.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” The wind picks up, pulling your hair from the ponytail at the back of your head.

“I’ll call you when I make it back to the bunker.”

“Good.”

“Bye y/n.”

“Bye Dean.”

Your gaze drops to the heavy ring on your thumb and you hold tight to the hope and belief that this time is different, allowing the memories of the past few days to brush away any doubts that threaten the thought of what the future will bring.

********************************************

Thank you so much for reading! I am considering doing a series with this reader and Dean, but let me know what y’all think!

#spn #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #spnfandom #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fluff #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fic #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #soft dean

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fashion4standusers · 10 months

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FFSU’s Fan Fashion Week!

*ETA: Works posted to AO3 can be tagged as "FFSU Fashion Week"!*

I’ve had the concept for this in my head for AGES but never got around to posting it. I originally planned to run it as an event during a certain time period, but I found that making it an event intimidated me out of actually making the idea happen. I just think that I’m a lot more confident in my ideas when I don’t overthink it! Therefore, instead of running an event, I’m just putting this challenge out into the atmosphere for people to take it and run with it.

REBLOGS GREATLY APPRECIATED!

Everything you need to know is in the graphics, and here’s a plain text version as well:

Fashion For Stand Users’ Fan Fashion Week Challenge: a 7-day art and/or fic-writing challenge!

Art Prompts:

- Day 1: Runway

Draw your chosen character(s) in an outfit from a designer runway! Check the blog archive or Vogue Runway for references and modify the look however you want.

-Day 2: Subculture

Draw your chosen character(s) in the fashion of a certain subculture: goth, raver, scene kid, etc.

-Day 3: Style Swap

Draw two or more characters swapping their canon outfits, or simply wearing outfits more suited for the other person's vibe and aesthetic.

-Day 4: Historical

Draw your chosen character(s) in the fashion of another era.

-Day 5: Redesign

Redesign, reinvent, or modify the canon outfit(s) of your chosen character(s).

-Day 6: Formal

Draw your chosen character(s) in gowns, tuxedos, and other fancy clothes.

-Day 7: Free Space

Draw any kind of outfit(s) you'd like for your chosen character(s)!

Writing Prompts:

- Day 1: Character Study

Write about why a character dresses or looks the way they do. Why do they like the clothes they wear? Do they wear something with personal significance? How do they want the world to see them?

-Day 2: Makeover

Write about a character getting a makeover from another. Are they getting new clothes, a new hairstyle, new makeup? Is it just for fun or a sign of a bigger change?

-Day 3: AU

Write about an alternate universe where the characters are models, fashion designers, hairstylists, makeup artists, etc.

-Day 4: Disaster

Write about something going horribly, horribly wrong: wardrobe malfunctions, makeup mishaps, over/underdressing, etc.

-Day 5: Shopping Trip

Write about characters going shopping together and all the shenanigans that ensue.

-Day 6: The Event

Write about a character getting ready for or attending an upscale event. Who are they going with? What are they wearing? How are they feeling?

-Day 7: Free Space

Write about any scenario you'd like, as long as it's about clothing or fashion!

Rules:

Have Fun!

This is obviously a JJBA blog, but feel free to use this challenge for OCs and other fandoms! If you plan to modify the prompts, make different graphics, or make your own version of the challenge for a different fandom, be sure to credit this blog or link back to this post!

Mention @fashion4standusers in all your posts to give credit! You can also tag your posts with #ffsufashionweek, and if your work is about JoJo, I would love to share it on the blog. If you post outside of Tumblr, include a link to this post!

Don't think you can do it in a week? Want more time to write longer fics, make more detailed art, or just develop your idea more? No worries, just work at your own pace! The concept of the challenge is a reference to the various Fashion Weeks that happen around the world, but by no means is it restricted to any real time frame!

Only want to write or draw for a few of the prompts? Maybe only one? Wanna work out of order? Go ahead! This is a challenge of course, but if you just aren't connecting with some of the prompts, don't force it!

Feel free to use the ideas you come up with for this into more in-depth works!

It's never too early or too late to give it a shot, and I'll always keep an eye on tags and mentions for new additions!

#ffsufashionweek #jjba #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #jjba fanfic

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bellaxgiornata · 18 days

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Honestly I cannot believe that I've been on tumblr for just over a year now and somehow there's already so many of you wonderful people here that are reading, enjoying, and supporting my silly little fics. When I jumped over here from AO3, I had not anticipated how much fun I was going to have getting to chat with all of y'all while also sharing my stories with those of you who aren't on AO3. I've definitely made some wonderful friends this past year because of tumblr and I just want to say thank you to everyone for the support. I always mean it when I say y'all are the reason I keep writing these stories 💖

I could certainly get sappier but instead I'll just invite y'all to join me for my first ever celebration! There's a few fun things below the cut that y'all can pop up with in my ask box starting today May 3 through Wednesday May 8! I tried to think of some interesting things that I could realistically make time to do with everything currently going on in my life, especially because I'm also still trying to stockpile rough drafts for many of my stories so that I can still have updates during my upcoming "writing hiatus" (that I'll explain more about later). My plan is to answer things as they come in and hopefully have them all finished shortly after the celebration ends. And once the celebration finally ends, I'm hoping to give y'all an update to a story or a one shot!

Hopefully this will be fun for everyone!

Let's Chat! - Feel free to send me an ask about anything at all! No, seriously. You want to tell me about your day? An upcoming vacation or exciting accomplishment of yours? Do it! Or maybe you want to ask me questions about one of my stories or my writing process? Hell, feel free to ask me about myself, chat about coffee, music, books, pets, whatever!

Discuss Headcanons with Me! - Have any headcanons about Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, or Michael Kinsella that you want to chat about or share with me? Send them in! Or are you interested in a headcanon I might have about one of them in a certain situation? Feel free to ask! We can chat about the boys!

Send Me Fake FFTD Installment Titles! - Create a title name for an installment for my Falling for the Devil series (ex. "The [insert title]") and I'll write a couple of sentences about what I could picture that installment being about! You win bonus points if you can actually stump me on coming up with a plot for your title. But also who knows, maybe some title suggestions could spark an idea for future updates...

Let's Play a Game! - We can play would you rather, have you ever, or fuck/marry/kiss (or kill). For the record, f/m/k can be with anyone from Daredevil, Punisher, Defenders, Kin, or even any of Charlie's characters that I'm familiar with (Matt, Michael, Owen, Henry, Tristan, or Adam) or those of Jon's that I'm familiar with (mainly Frank, Shane, or Julian). If you can think of another game feel free to play it with me!

Ask the Boys! - Do you enjoy my weird internal dialogues with fictional characters that probably make me sound crazy? Great! Feel free to send me an ask to either one or all of the fictional men that live in my head (Matt, Frank, and/or Mikey) and I'll relay whatever they respond with in something of a short internal dialogue!

Request a Sneak Peak! - Since I have been stockpiling quite a few WIPs and rough drafts for a couple of months now, I am open to y'all just requesting a sneak peak. If you do, I will share a snippet from a fic I choose at random from something that's either a fully finished rough draft or still a work in progress!

**You're more than welcome to participate multiple times, but all I ask is that you (1) send things in separate asks, (2) are not rude to me or anyone else, and (3) are 18+ to discuss anything spicy (this is an 18+ blog anyway so I'd hope everyone here already is).**

#bellas 2.5k follower celebration #ive never done one of these before!#let's have some fun!#follower celebration #matt murdock #frank castle #michael kinsella

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namazunomegami · 2 months

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Atonement

Pairing: Geto Suguru x gn!reader

Synopsis: How can you cleanse yourself from the sin that has been tainting you since your attempt to escape? The answer is easy: walk on barefoot for him, suffer some misery, risk your health for him, open yourself up for him and you can earn his forgiveness.

CW: canon compliant, established relationship, toxic and complicated dynamics, religious symbolism, porn with feelings, Geto is a manipulative ass how surprising, gaslighting, m!receiving oral, fingering, non-consensual edging, good old unprotected sex + creampie

WC: 5.3k

Credits: my lovely @notveryrussian who worked so hard to get this fic proofreaded. Ngl they deserve all the praise and respect because we lost literal pages from the already edited draft because windows is crap and they had to start over again. Take one big break darl, you deserve it 💕

Song rec: mythical creature by pregnant whale pain was my main inspiration during writing but i think tumblr dot com is not ready yet to listen to an unknown hungarian avantgarde metal band while reading porn lmao. Maybe i'll drop the acoustic version later.

A/N: Here is part 1 in case if you missed it. I think you need to know what happened to completely understand the buildup and have a general idea about their relationship. This fic is probably my fave I’ve written so far, a special lil brainchild of mine. These two are living in my mind rent free with all their lore and they'll never let me go.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated 💕

Minors don't interact unless you want me to stand outside your house at 3 am with a pitchfork

It was very hard to explain to your family what happened to you. The worry which they approached you with, especially Mimiko and Nanako just stirred a weird sense of guilt in your chest. The twins even offered to help you out with chores, eagerly telling you to rest, let your body heal. Your heart shattered to pieces in that moment, weeping endlessly with fat, salty tears. Your precious darling girls, so considerate of you, so caring, their hearts filled with everlasting gratitude. And you wanted to leave them. You felt like a piece of shit of a parental figure, obviously.

Days passed as if nothing had ever happened. Even in your private moments with Geto, the issue was never brought up. He took care of your wounds, of course, but your escape attempt wasn’t a topic of conversation at all. You swept it under the rug.

Which means it was only a question of time until he was going to wield it against you.

“Leave the scabs alone.” he reprimands you softly, dragging your wrist away from them. The hot water softened your scars, making them itchy, easy to pick away at them. But Geto is so thoughtful for looking after you like some kind of crazy mother hen, right? Even sitting in the tub behind you.

He takes hold of the edge, stepping out of the tub swiftly. The water suddenly drops around you, goosebumps dot your skin from the sudden touch of the moistened air as he hides that broad, sun-kissed form of his beneath a bathrobe. You ache for a bit of peace, a bit of me-time, but since the so-called “accident”, he just couldn’t stop himself from keeping an eye on you constantly.

Your hand dances along the surface of the water, bunching the bubbles together into various shapes, like they’re islands. Like you’re a young god, decorating the plane you’ve created. But his outstretched palm appearing in your vision disturbs your creative process.

“Come, I’ll take the stitches out.”

Compared to when your wound was sutured, cutting out the thread is a relatively quick process. Especially with his competency. The tweezer lifts and holds the knot, as he severs the thread with a pair of scissors and pulls it from your flesh before he moving on to the next. It’s uncomfortable, not in a way that it hurts, but it makes your skin crawl and your bones bend. An overall disgusting feeling. But when it’s over, it does feel better. And knowing him, you wonder if it’s purposeful or not.

“Must you make it painful?” you complain, thumb pressing down on the closed, marred skin. For the wrong reasons though, but you can freely complain.

“I didn’t intend to hurt you.” his voice is soft like silk, but not without a sharp edge in it, slowly unfurling, like the jaws of a venus flytrap. “I just wanted to teach you a lesson.”

You glare at him, your eyes piercing him like a dagger.

“Me? I wanted to teach you a lesson.”

This… was a bit too far, you must admit.

You storm out of the bathroom, like you could get away from the conversation.

“Go on, speak.” his words echo through the walls of the bedroom, making your movements halt immediately. You glance up at the window, faced with his reflection as he leans against the doorframe. “What should I learn from you? That you’re not afraid to run? To put your life in unnecessary danger?”

A long sigh leaves through your nostrils.

“If it comforts you, then yes, I realized that I had made a dumb decision.”

You don’t have to turn around to know he’s standing right behind you. Looming over you, shrouding you like an evil trickster spirit.

“I must admit I enjoyed your little attempt…” his palms are heavy on your shoulders, just like his words echoing close to shell of your ear. “Catching you, watching your resolves crumble, the raw terror plastered on your face…” the way his voice caresses you is just like the way he would hold a blade right against your throat, pressing down on the pulsing veins that could be cut open so easily. Like needles slowly being inserted into your ear canals. Eventually it softens, getting more serious and chiding. “But you did scare me. Have you ever thought about what would’ve happened if I didn’t go after you?”

You’d die, you would definitely die. Bleeding out amidst the leaves and grass, letting the frosty night bite you tense and weak. All alone in the dark.

Hold on…

You wouldn’t be injured if he hadn’t frightened you in the first place.

Did he just… no, it can’t be.

He slowly walks away from you, and you hear the bed creak under his weight. The choking feeling finally lifts from your throat. You turn towards one of the incense burners, already filled, it merely needs to be lit. But you do it slowly, just for the sake of appearing busy, to not feel obligated to carry on with the conversation.

But you should make peace with him before he does. He’ll make you face all of your mistakes and their consequences, if not outright making you suffer because of them. Rub all of them into your face until you have no choice but to plead for forgiveness.

It’s not easy, but you open your mouth. The scent of sandalwood lowers your guards, helping you be honest and brings forth the thoughts you’ve been trying to hide for a long time.

“Sometimes I wonder if we’re doing the right thing. And I wonder even more about that if we’ll fail before reaching our goal. Fail spectacularly. Because we want to do the impossible.”

“What is exactly the right thing? Being selfless? Forgetting all about our grudges and letting the world trample all over us? Or being selfish and crushing anyone under our feet to keep each other safe?”

Like an elastic band being strained for far too long, you snap. Luckily, the bronze lid of the incense burner holds out under your grasp.

“It’s too fucking late for moral arguments! Can’t you speak to me more directly for once? Instead of hiding behind your… carefully crafted scenarios that only prove your point.”

You should have avoided looking at him. At your serpent, who made you sin, who was cursed alongside you, your serpent who devoured your beloved Adam. You yearned for the remains, sitting in the bottomless pit of his stomach.

But you swore those remains spoke to you, through layers of flesh, scales, and deception. Soft and calm like a light summer breeze.

“Do you have doubts about me, darling? Are you giving up on me?”

The question breaks you, evaporating all of your anger and resentment in a flash. Devoid of any playful tone or hidden meanings, so raw that it takes hold of your heart and squeezes it so tight that it couldn’t possibly beat anymore.

You know how he twists the truth, striking right into the softest parts of you. He feeds you poison – yet you swallow it right down every single time.

“Faith has no zenith, my dear.” you answer, low and sweet, like you wanted to comfort him. The lid on the incense burner closes, giving you enough time to build up the courage to approach him. You weave your words carefully, in such fashion that it can be interpreted in multiple ways. If he switched just one little word, he’d immediately gain more insight into what’s really been weighing on your heart. “There’s no such peak we can reach on which we can stagnate forever. Faith sometimes wavers, sometimes we question our beliefs. Sometimes we’re unsure if our prayers are heard.” you get down on your knees before him, taking his hand into yours, giving him a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “But I do want to have faith in you.”

His features visibly soften. Heavy lids close in relief, and you feel his thumb brushing along your knuckles.

This is your chance! Go on, there’s no time more perfect than this to try to convince him.

“We should really get away from the temple.” you start with an almost resigned sigh, but your excitement soon starts to show. “Just for a few days. Manami will handle the followers while we leave for the countryside, or an island. We can bring the girls even.”

A faint glimmer in his eyes tells you his answer is going to disappoint you.

“They don’t know about the girls, but they certainly know about you.” he reminds you sternly. “The higher ups want us dead and the last time I offered to protect someone, they ended up getting killed.”

His voice is faint, almost shaky. He rarely talks about the death of Riko. And if he ever brings her up in a conversation, you know he means it.

The heavy lid above his eyes drops, violet irises hiding behind his lashes, averted from you. The words coming out of him are barely above a whisper, like his lips are made from lead, like forming the words is a tiring task because they’re so heavy, and filled with something violently torturing him.

“This is a risk I’m not willing to take again. Not even for you. Especially for you.”

You feel something pooling on your waterline. Translucent pearls of tears appear so involuntarily when you see him like this. Sometimes you do want to hurt him, but when you see him in pain, it torments you even worse.

“I’m not asking you to take risks for me. I never did. But you should take some for you. You could use some respite.” you lace your fingers with his. It brings you a strange kind of comfort how your hand just loses itself in his, but it’s yours that looks more lively and powerful. Like it’s you what keeps him together. As if without you he would shatter into pieces. “You take on an awful lot of responsibilities, I think sometimes more than you’re capable of handling.”

Affection sweeps through his features as he caresses your head, from the roots of your strands to the thick bone of your jaw. A lonely thumb brushing along from your cheekbone to the lobe of your ear. And there’s nothing you can do, only stare at him, wide-eyed with reverence, like he’s an ethereal being.

“This is not your cross to bear.”

He wanted to ease your concerns, but you’re much more stubborn than that. You won’t stand there, at a safe distance, watching him drag himself to his Calvary, whipped and crowned with thorns. You’ll push through the crowd, smash them to bits just to reach him and offer your veil to wipe his face. A thousand times, as many times as he needs.

“Of course it is, what do you expect from me? Unlike…” No, don’t say names, do not compare yourself to certain figures in your past and the way they treated him. “I’m worried about you, for no other reason than I genuinely care about you. That’s why I want you to put our plans to aside - let’s unwind a little, recharge. Before all of this drives us insane.”

He deliberately avoids answering, your concern grows and grows like vicious vine. Is this too much to ask for? A small moment of normalcy can’t be granted to you? What are the two of you really? Idols of worship, if not gods at this point because your sheep do regard you as such. But can’t gods long for a visit amongst mortals? Can’t they shed their divine status? You could, but maybe, before he’d let you leave, he’ll feed you pomegranate seeds.

Would you eat them again? Of course you would. Even if you fight and snarl a little beforehand. Because love is the death of duty, and of a peaceful mind, of comprehensive decisions. Love is so mystified, shrouded in the illusion of an immortalized existence, just like death. Love is, indeed, death.

Your palms cup his face, his skin radiates warmth through you. The warmth of the evening sun that makes the sky bleed with the prettiest colors you can imagine. Your touch slowly encourages him to look into your eyes, finding a strange kind of determination and care mixed with your obvious worry. A Magdalene dwells within your gaze, who already washed her prophet’s feet with tears and dried them with her hair before he starts his last journey to Golgotha.

“I told you a million times, if you fall too deep into your misery, when you feel like you can’t come back to the surface on your own, let me know, so I can pull you out. Or let me know so I can go after you. And we’ll drown together.”

All those little pacts and vows you made during the years echo through you. Even the first one, the most ancient of them all, when it was still easy to hide your concerns behind your techniques.

I’ll keep an eye on you.

It’ll keep an eye on you.

You lean closer, foreheads and the tips of your noses touching. Eyes closing in almost perfect synchronicity.

“Promise me, Suguru. Promise me again.”

You wait and wait, until his warm breath brushes your skin like fine silk, like a feather.

“I promise.”

You sigh in relief. It hurts, it hurts so much. There’s so much place in your heart for him to dwell in. He owns it and he won’t give it back. Ever.

You only wanted a chaste kiss, but a special type of hunger wakes deep below your navel. You taste his words, you swallow them down, nipping them from his lips. You look for the rest of them, his thoughts that hadn’t been formed into words yet, the rest of the sentence, you search for it with your tongue inside his mouth.

You grab onto the sheets, trying to push yourself up. Like you could overpower him, like you could battle against him. To have him laid out on the mattress, defeated. But he stops your advances with a palm resting on your shoulder, gently pushing you away.

“You’re not healed yet.” he whispers, truly concerned.

“Then I’ll be on top, I don’t care.” you oppose breathily, your fingers trying to pry his robe open.

“The cut on your hand could re-open if we’re not careful.”

Oh, how you adore him when he’s so tender with you, but now, this is the last thing you want. You want to bare your teeth and go right for the throat.

“Then you’ll stitch me up again.” There’s a playful edge in your voice, and you kiss him again with the same curve of a smile while he lets you crawl on top of him.

And he smiles against you too, delighted by your eagerness. You, trying to eat him up, digest him - he’s just enjoying you and the feast you’re having. Taking everything from you. He only wants to capture you, to cage you in his hold. He’s kneading your flesh leisurely and humming into your mouth contently, almost lazily.

In the crooks of his body, you find your religion.

The sharp line of his jaw, the tendons of his neck, the hollow caverns around his collarbone. But your mouth carefully avoids the scars slashing through his chest, after all those years, it still pains him when the lightly coloured, textured skin gets touched. As if these lips of yours and your aimlessly trailing fingers were the same blades, penetrating the flesh again and again.

There’s not a morsel of him that you weren’t intimately familiar with. In a way that rivals how much you know about yourself. And what you know even better is that how can you venerate them, dote on them, adore, and idolize with such devotion you could anger all deities created by man and make them scream blasphemy on you.

You take his cock in your hand, teasingly working your palms around him. Pumping it, stroking your thumb along the underside to make his breath hitch. His dick grows beneath your hands, getting harder and heavier. The first beads of precum get smeared along the length by your skillful fingers.

“You know you don’t have to- “but you cut him off while settling between his legs.

“Just relax and let me do all the work.” your response comes out a bit more deadpan than planned. “You deserve it once in a while.”

And with that, you wrap your lips around him, enveloping him in warmth and wetness, your tongue slowly swirling around the head. His thighs twitch, more precum oozes into your waiting mouth as the muscle between your teeth works eagerly. You give him a few, gentle sucks, slurping up the mixture of your own saliva and his arousal. Between ragged breaths, he reminds you to breathe through your nose as you take more and more of his length. You relax your jaw, your fingers tense around the base of his cock and you’re trying as hard as you can to defeat the urge to gag. When you fit all of him inside your mouth, you empty your lungs and give him a harder suck, hard enough to make you cheeks hollow and his chest heave. As your free hand is occupied with kneading his balls between your fingers and knuckles, a moan bursts out of him.

The sound boosts your confidence, filling you with a wicked kind of playfulness. The kind of wicked that makes you pull back your tongue a little, as to not keep your teeth hidden. You drag them along his sensitive, pulsing underside, balancing the pressure between pleasure and pain. Like you could prove to him that you’re ready to bite back, that this is the only moment when he can’t control you, that he shouldn’t underestimate you.

And just as if he could read your thoughts, his hand goes for your head, fingers getting lost between your strands. But he’s not as cruel as to push you down on him, instead he guides you, increases the rhythm that you’re working with. Steady and firm, but not too fast. You earn yourself his praises, soft curses pitched higher than his normal voice.

This is what real worship looks like.

When you feel the muscles in his thighs and stomach tensing up, you stop. You emerge from the space between his legs, wiping your lips clean and admiring your work. All that flushed skin blooming in pink on his chest and face. You move, trying to get into a new position, settling your calves right next to hips. You start aligning yourself with his cock to finally start grinding on him.

He sits up and traps you with an arm coiling around your waist.

“Since when were you so reckless?”

His hand creeps around the apex of your thighs. A finger barely brushes along your slit. By adding another digit, he spreads your folds, finding hot, smooth, slippery flesh.

“I would’ve prepped myself.” that’s all you can say in your defense.

Fingertips circle your hole, applying a bit of pressure, checking how much you’ve loosened up. He invades you slowly as your lungs empty, the hardened skin on his fingers stroking and massaging your sweet spots before he starts working you open.

You wrap your arms around him, slowly undoing his bun to have something to grab onto as you jolt, as your bones melt, as your brows furrow in bliss. The moans coming from you are breathy and tender, and you hide them in his strands. He twists his fingers inside you, stretching your warm muscles further, making your back arch and you press your hardened nipples to his chest. Your essence engulfs his knuckles, clear and sticky like honey.

The heel of his palm settles right against your clit and you shamelessly grind on it. Your mewls pass over his ears as he’s nuzzling into the crook of your neck, nipping at the skin of a faint scar. But you resist giving in, you stop him, telling him that’s enough, but in reality you just want your control back. Take back the lead and revel in it.

And somehow he obeys, laying back into the sheets.

You slip out of your robe, showing yourself fully. The bruises on your skin can finally bathe in the dim lamplight, painting the complexion of your sides, shoulders, and upper arm in different shades of blue and purple, like paint on bare canvas. Like the night sky carrying storm clouds, like you’re rotting, decomposing. You find a twisted, perverted joy in the fact that he must be seeing them for the whole time.

“Slowly, slowly.” he murmurs softly as you’re pushing the head of his cock inside you. “There’s no need to rush.” Trimmed nails trail up and down from the flesh of your thighs to your bruised sides. Tender and slow like a ghost, goosebumps pepper your skin from the tickling feeling. “I’m already yours.” He purrs and your heart flutters.

And there’s so, so much pride in you that only you can render him to this state. Too powerful for the world to bear him, capable to burn this plane to ruins, defying the barriers between a mortal and a god - or something way worse than that. Maybe you should receive twice the respect from your herd, for being the only person who can enslave him in this way, that only you can have this sort of power over him. Only you can overthrow him. Because you’re just too dear to him, too close to his burning heart.

Maybe it’s your time to warn him. Tame him like the monster he is.

You move with your own rhythm. His hand caged between your fingers and pressed down against the sheets. You give him no other choice but to venerate you back and he does, with pleased, low rumbles coming from his throat. Only a singular hand is allowed to roam your form freely. On your back tracing the shallow line where your spine lies beneath skin and flesh, wandering towards the inner part of your thighs, then to your stomach and chest. And you reward him with a prayer of your own, encapsulated in deep, long sighs.

But you’re too trusting of him. You let your guard down too easily.

You’re holding onto his kneecaps, leaning towards them a little, allowing every inch of you to be seen. You want to give him a show, but your knees are too worn and tired.

He takes hold of your hips, helping you guide yourself along his length. His pelvis moves along with you in synced rhythm. Your teeth are pressing down on the soft skin of your lips, but you can’t keep your whimpers in. You’re getting close, your muscles and nerves are st tight and pulsing, your walls are pressing down on his length. His name mindlessly slips out of your mouth.

Maybe you can say you love him before you shatter.

But his fingers clench around you, strong and firm, stopping your movements. Lifting your hips up so high that his cock is barely inside, robbing you from your incoming orgasm.

You’re shocked, eyes staring into the nothingness, open wide. Your stomach drops, stirring up all kinds of feelings dwelling in you. A chill races down your vertebrae as you glance down at him.

“Suguru..?” Your voice is weak, shaky.

Fear courses through your being, primordial and all-consuming.

And when he speaks to you it’s all dark, shrouded in malevolence.

“You forgot one thing, darling. After I brought you back from the forest.”

No, no, no, he can’t do this to you! He can’t hold your orgasm hostage for the sake of toying with you! You should puncture his flesh your nails, scratch him, tear him up, but you can only grit your teeth. Your features twist from bliss to rage.

“You…” boiling anger swims through your voice. It’s like it’s not even your voice - more like a hiss, a growl.

There’s an undecipherable mixture of pity and amusement in his eyes. He twitches inside you but you’re too upset to notice.

“Apologize.” he sneers - almost commands.

His words cause anger to bubble up in you.

“Oh, you piece of shit…!” you seethe, but sob and moan when he slams you back on his cock, stretching you around his length again. Wanting to quench your rage with the sensation you crave the most right now.

“I hope, for your sake, I don’t have to repeat myself.”

It doesn’t matter how much you try to squirm, fuss and wriggle, he forces you still. His behaviour frustrates you to no end when you’re so desperate for a bit of friction, the horribly hollow and burning feeling of your lost peak torturing you seemingly endlessly. To the point where you’re too tired to put up a fight, when you’re teetering on the edge of breaking. You know you must swallow your pride, you have let him have it his way.

“I… I’m sorry.” you apologize meekly, teary-eyed, your voice a pathetic mewl. He finally starts lifting you up and easing you down, building you up slowly. But it’s not enough. You need more but he won’t give it to you just yet.

“You do?” he asks you in a way that it cuts deep into your marrow. It’s not even close to a loving tease – no, he’s outright mocking you.

Vicious bastard. You should grab his throat and squeeze the air out of him.

“Yes, I do!” you cry out without thinking. “I’m sorry for running away from you.” you push the words out through your whimpers. He increases the pace, making you yelp and shake, you end up closing your eyes reflexively. He robbed you from the sensation for so long that you became sensitive, it’s easier to make a mess out of you. Your face is red with shame, so much so you can’t look him in the eyes. The humiliation is like an invisible rope tightening around your neck.

“Promise you’ll never do that to me again.”

He pushes your hips further along his length this time, shifting you a bit towards his thighs. Creating a perfect angle, he uncovers a sweet spot inside you that makes you almost incapable of forming coherent words. And he eats the sight right up.

“…I promise… I promise...” you manage to get your answer out in the form of a choked hiccup. Your vision blurs. Everything is too intense for you to handle. You swear that the very shape of you could dissolve at any given moment.

Faith is desperate. Gods are hungry for despair. So they deliberately make you suffer and only then reveal themselves to you.

His fingers dig into your waist so hard it burns. You feel the world shift with you and then you collide with the sheets. Your bruised back ripples with pain. You’re unsure if he did it out of spite or not. You don’t know if he’ll completely shatter your dignity, or if he’s fine with just enforcing the feeling that you can never be above him, that you can never defeat him.

His weight on top of you is overwhelming. The midnight dark locks of his hair spread around you like spilled ink. And through the thick fog of your mind, too far gone in twisted, masochistic pleasure, you lock your legs around his waist. You don’t want him to go away. You might as well cease to exist if he does.

“And what do we say when we apologize?”

The soft plea coming from you is more instinctual rather than deliberate.

“Forgive me.”

You ache for him to move, you’re starved for the incoming high. Like a ravenous beast, all devouring. When he finally gives it to you, his thrusts make you feel possessed, make your back arch, your head falls back into the pillow as if you were offering your neck to him (maybe one day he won’t be able to resist the urge and will bite down on the jugular, through your trachea, putting you out of your misery) - you don’t dare to beg for anything else.

Maybe just for a little blood. A mark he can wear, just like you wear your bruises. Your nails somehow acquire a will of their own, your scratches have him excited and pleased.

His fingers meander around your jaw, gently coaxing you into letting him guide your gazes to meet again.

He’s imitating you, admiring his work like you did with him. And what he sees is a being stripped from any likeness of a dignified human being. With eyes so blown he can see the bottommost pits of Hell in them.

And he’s satisfied, rewarding you with a soft kiss on your temple.

“I forgive you.”

Your release crashes over you like a tide, submerging you, burning you to cinders on the inside. Tearing you apart. And when he collapses on top you after filling you to the brim, you feel like a festering wound.

He’s a disease, miasma, a flesh-eating parasite crawling inside you.

“You’re…” you huff. “You’re awful.”

“I know. But you love me all the same.”

You wonder what you should have done to earn a different outcome, but you give up soon. Looks like he already had plans for your atonement in mind. After all, gods are impatient creatures. They’re dependent on your reverence and servitude. And you’ve waited for too long to make things right.

Why, why, why - it echoes inside your head.

But if you think about it… he’s your serpent. The vilest, most horrendous creature created by God. The one who charmed you, tempted you with sin and has now sunken his fangs into you. Of course he did, and instead of trying to heal from his venomous bite, you want to catch him - to find out his reasons, to prove to him that you didn’t deserve that.

And yet you could never, ever prove him wrong. Your serpent will always think it was right to bite. It’s in his nature afterall.

“Is your hand alright?”

He makes it up to you with spoiling you again. He cleans your wounds so sweetly, so thoughtfully, looks after you in a way that nobody could, which confuses you even further.

He cherishes you, destroys himself for the sake of keeping you safe - not like it’s a choice, but a must - just like a mother would. He scolds you, reminds you not to make the same mistake again, collars you, keeps you on a tight leash, only loosening it (just a little) when he succeeded at making you play by his rules, just like a father would.

And somehow, he excels at both. Way better than those two ever did when it came to you.

You wish your glare could pierce right through his skull when you hand the empty glass back to him. You don’t have it in you to play nice. You don’t even attempt hide that you’re sulking, he probably finds it funny - adorable even.

“Go to hell.” you spit and lay back into the sheets, your bruised back facing him.

“Oh, darling…” he coos, but the surface level sweetness of his tone hides a sharp edge of condescendence. He crawls into bed, right behind you, caging you in his embrace, forcing you to feel the warmth of his body. The warmth that you’re so used to, the one you can’t sleep without it. Nobody has ever made you feel this safe, and the fact makes your heart ache and your stomach twist.

“If there’s a Hell, I’ll see you there.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru x y/n #getou suguru x you #jjk x reader #suguru geto x reader #meesa writes #DAAARLING GUESS WHOS COME BACK FROM JAIIIIL #Idk what kind of deep psychological issue of mine is in that fic but now its your job to decipher #just please dont bring Freud into the picture I hate that man

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zzoguri · 25 days

Text

[TEASER] finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ ji changmin

ji changmin x reader

with an unexpected reunion, you and changmin relive the memories of cheongju—and confront what could’ve been between you two.

inspired by ➵ "seasons" by wave to earth, the last five years

general genre/warnings ➵ friends to almost lovers, angst, fluff, the last five years story-telling method aka present will be told going backwards while past will be told moving forward (i hope that makes sense), missed chances, unexpected reunion, keeping secrets & lying, hurt/comfort, jealousy remains but love triumphs, tiger parents, journalist reader (u kno i had to do it), reader is a nerd and changmin is a student-athlete, kms jokes from jongseob (all /lh), finger traps aren’t efficient after all

word count ➵ est. 10-15k

playlist ➵ end of beginning by djo // high school in jakarta by niki // i know it won't work by gracie abrams // no big deal (i love you) by dodie // keeping tabs by niki // no one knows by stephen sanchez & laufey // so what now by renee rapp // i wish i hated you by ariana grande // the 1 by taylor swift // seasons by wave to earth

a/n ➵ shhhhhhh.... i know that i'm still writing this but a lil motivation and accountability goes a long way SOOO !!! this is just a lil teaser for the upcoming jichang fic for the deoboyznet event <33 thank you again to my lovely @hcuyk for beta reading !!! (i've only written 1/4 please understand.) but i'm dedicating this to my lovely @sungbeam whose love for changmin is one i'll forever feel even to my ribs and @wavesmp3 who forever remains an inspiration in the way i write </3 plus, i've posted these snippets anyway so :P if ure interested in this fic, feel free to ask to be part of the taglist for this! and dont forget to always leave feedback <3

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlists

it’s a late night on a tuesday, about to be a midnight wednesday, and you’re in a convenience store as you scout for your dinner. all hauled up in the newsroom, the idea of ordering food during a time where restaurants would still be open slipped your mind. now, you’re left to scan through the same options you’ve eaten for the past years since you started living in seoul.

the convenience clerks are familiar with you, both kim jongseob and kim jiwoo. with your constant late-night meals at the store, you’d talk to whichever one had a shift. jongseob is saving up to upgrade his setup at home to record more music. with all the stories he shares about his time in underground rap battles along with the short verses he’s performed for you, you’re positive that he’ll get signed to a label soon. as for jiwoo, this is one of the many jobs she has in order to save enough money for fashion school. you’ve seen her sketches and outfits she’s put together and you’re hoping that she’ll get accepted.

a sigh leaves you. you didn’t have a problem with eating the food here but you were craving for something new in your life in seoul. the perpetual cycle of eating takeout food and unconsciously skipping meals for work needed to be disrupted just for a moment. but you weren’t seeking michelin-star food—all you wanted was home cooked, something from home.

the spice of tteokbokki, the burn of freshly fried hotteok, and the sweetness of homemade peach iced tea—mr. kim’s convenience store had it all.

your tastebuds long for cheongju.

“planning to beat your record of spending 23 minutes on deciding what to get?”

you roll your eyes before looking to your right, seeing jongseob stocking up the drinks in the fridge. “i hate you.”

“what? i’m just saying, you’re taking a lot longer to decide today.” he chuckles before placing the last bottle of sweetened probiotic milk in the fridge. “none of the options look good to you?”

“sort of,” you hum before you scan through the aisle of packaged meals. “i think i’m craving for something different.”

“i get it. the food here can get boring, which is why i’m planning to order pizza if you want to split the costs.”

your eyebrows shoot up at jongseob’s suggestion. “really? you’d share pizza with me?”

“yeah, as long as you pay for your share.” he shoots you a smile before grabbing on a trolley carrying empty boxes. “unless… you want to pay for the whole thing.”

you bite back a smile as you shake your head. you should’ve known the guy would ask you to buy him food, but you knew that he needed the money and you at least had a stable income to keep you comfortable. “fine,” jongseob’s smile grows as you fish out your wallet from your pocket and pull out a couple of bills. “just order enough for us two.”

“of course,” he says as soon as you hand him some money. “i’ll make sure to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

you scoff at his joke. “just make sure to treat me to something.”

the bell by the door chimes. “sorry, can’t hear you over that! need to attend to a customer!” jongseob quickly runs away from you while dragging the trolley. that little shit just knew how to press your buttons, but you love the kid, anyway.

still, you stand in the middle of the mart and your heart longs for home.

then, you shut your eyes, and you’re transported back in front of the familiar aisle filled with bags of potato chips and sweet corn. the noisy fan along with the soft sounds of mr. kim’s korean drama fills your ears. a mix of yellow and orange hues paint every corner of the mart, including you—and you’re not alone.

your best friend stands on your right, wearing the unbuttoned school uniform polo over a tank top along with jogging pants. he’s lost in thought as he scans through the options of snacks you two can have for today’s afternoon. he starts to giggle to himself, probably from a silly thought he’ll share with you in the next second or a memory involving you, and the dips in his cheeks appear—your heart thumps in your ears.

and just like how quickly you were transported back to cheongju, your surroundings transformed into the cool-lit convenience store found in seoul. all you have left is the image of him bathed in the sunlight.

but he fades away like the ink on old receipts, never gone, because the glowing image of him warps into a different version who stands next to you in the cold mart. he’s grown a few inches taller and his hair doesn’t get in the way of his line of sight. while he wears a green sweater, you notice that he’s gained some muscles. his eyes scan through the aisle behind you filled with different brands of instant ramen.

but he bites the inside of his cheek, and his dimples appear.

it’s a tornado that brews within you, enough to uproot trees and displace buildings, all because of an unexpected reunion with changmin. why did the universe decide to bring two ex-best friends on a random tuesday night? what brings him to the convenience store at the same time you’re there? and why did it have to happen a day before the interview?

you weren’t going to commit the same mistake; keep your eyes off of him and make your way out of the store. it didn’t matter if you had an empty, growling stomach, or gave free money to jongseob. you need to leave without the distant, familiar face noticing.

your feet act fast, and you're almost certain that might’ve caught his attention, but it didn’t matter as you see jongseob standing behind the cashier with his phone out. “i just ordered the pizza. it should arrive in about… 20 to 30 minutes.”

“yeah, about that…”

“don’t tell me you’re taking your money back.”

at the sight of jongseob’s pout, you roll your eyes. “no, keep it. i just—i need to go.”

“what? why?”

you peek behind you. it seems like he didn’t recognize you, after all. “i’ve got… work!”

“but don’t you only have your interview with the bo—”

“hey!” your fingers snap at him. “you cannot—i mean, you just… just take the goddamn money.”

“but we’re supposed to share the pizza. you haven’t eaten.”

an exasperated sigh leaves you. “jongseob, just treat me next time. i can eat at home.”

and you’re ready to leave the convenience store, bid farewell to jongseob and a delicious pizza made for two, and never greet or say goodbye to the living fragment of what you last know of cheongju—

“y/n?”

and the plan failed.

when you meet his gaze, you’re able to take in the different version of him. he’s grown so much—it’s such a pain that you weren’t there to witness it. his eyes are a pool of emotions; you can’t identify them.

all it takes is one breath from you. “changmin.”

a beat passes.

“i’m just gonna… go through the storage,” jongseob points his thumb at the back of the mart, “and maybe kill myself afterwards. i don’t know.” before you can protest, he’s already gone. (and he still has your money. that fucker.)

taglist ➵@winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @mosviqu @vernyangel @stealanity @deobi0412 @blue-rainydays @maessseongs

#the boyz x reader #ji changmin x reader #ji changmin angst #ji changmin fluff #the boyz imagines #ji changmin imagines #the boyz scenarios #ji changmin scenarios

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pluto-supremacy · 3 months

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YOUR VI JAIL FIC WAS SO GOOD AND THE HEADCANONS WERE SO SO ACCURATE. :'( IF POSSIBLE, CAN YOU MAKE A P2 TO HOW THEIR LIFE IS OUTSIDE OF PRISON WHEN THEY MAKE IT OUT? or an angst with caitlyn being blackmailed by the warden to only let one prisoner out? :3 said one being vi, and vi having to abandon reader?

Vi Fic: Bye Bye Bun

➼ Aaaah thank you so much! I'm so glad so many people liked the Stillwater headcanons^^ I was afraid my Vi was going to be soooo out of character. I decided to write some angst first >:) if this fic does well or I get another ask I'll also work on life after Stillwater, give you guys some fluff after this

➼ Continuation of Vi Headcanons: dating f!reader at Stillwater

➼ No beta we die like Claggor (I'm running out of people who die in the series-)

➼ Warnings: None! Bit of a longer fic for you guys today, enjoy!

GIF does not belong to me! All credits to the owner

The sound of knuckles meeting hard concrete echoed throughout the cell block, small grunts following close behind. "You know we don't get clean bandages for another two weeks Vi, your knuckles are going to get infected at this rate." you called out. Suddenly the pounding stopped and a small chuckle was heard. "Don't worry about me bun, just trying to blow off some steam," she said, pacing around her cell instead of beating up a wall. "You should really get some sleep. Long day tomorrow"

"No such thing as a short day here." you groaned. Carefully you laid down on the ground of the cell. Vi's was only a few doors down, close enough to talk just above a whisper but way too far away to see each other. Both of you always slept against the walls that faced each other. It was the closest thing to sleeping next to each other in this shithole. Aside from whenever you two napped during free time of course. Even then Vi stayed wide awake to ensure you were okay.

"Goodnight Vi, wake me up if anything happens, okay?" "I will Y/N, I promise"

That was nearly two hours ago. You were sound asleep by now, the cold, hard floor no longer keeping you up. It was something every prisoner in Stillwater had to get used to. Mattresses weren't provided. The few that did get a thin mat to sleep on at night only got one after a lot of medical visits and several notes stating they needed one for medical reasons. You and Vi weren't so lucky to have any notes. Still, there were worse things here. Like the food. That's why any food or snacks that were smuggled in were high value items. Currently you had a packet of chips hidden under a loose brick right where you slept. You scored them a few days ago and wanted to surprise Vi by sharing them tomorrow.

The elevator dinged as the doors opened, the clack of heels filling the halls. Caitlyn stopped in front of Vi's sell, her hood still up. "What the hell do you want?" Vi asked, glancing over at the taller woman. "Your help. You beat up an inmate, I needed to question him about a crime scene from yesterday. Why did you break his jaw?" "Because I wanted to." She responded with a small shrug, disinterested in whoever this enforcer was. "Why are you in here?" Caitlyn tried again, looking over the file in her hands. "For my sunny personality." Vi shot back immediately.

Caitlyn shook her head, sighing. "This was a waste of time." she closed the file and her journal, starting to walk off. Maybe she could find away around a broken jaw, pen and paper perhaps. "Couldn't have said it better myself. Give Silco a kiss for me on that winning eye of his." that was what caught the enforcer's attention. Turning around she walked back to Vi's cell, getting a bit closer to the bars. "Silco? The industrialist?" "Hardly what I'd call an industrialist." She scoffed, leaning against the bars. That's when the other woman held up something that caught her eye.

In Caitlyn's journal was a picture of a spray-painted monkey. Just like the ones Powder used to make. "Where did you get this?" Vi asked, desperation creeping into her voice. "My question first. The inmate worked for Silco?" "Everyone in here does. You of all people should know that. Now where did you find that?" "It was at the crime scene, this is evidence" Caitlyn responded. She had the upper hand here now. "If I'm to believe you about Silco, I'm going to need proof."

A way out. Vi could get both of you out of here. "I can provide you proof. Just, not from in here" she gestured to the bars around her. "And," she began to add on "I need another inmate. Inmate 381. I'm not leaving without her." Caitlyn seemed to consider this for a moment. Then she turn and left without a word. What that meant, Vi had no clue.

Caitlyn had ran off back to the warden, forging papers along the way for the release of two inmates. She needed Vi's help to track whoever this person was down, so if someone else had to come along, so be it. As she put the papers down on the warden's desk, he seemed to lazily look over them. "I have orders to release inmates 381 and 516." she spoke up. He hummed in thought before shaking his head. "I can only release one." "What? It says right there-" "I can read. But I'm only releasing one. Pick." "..inmate 516."

So when Caitlyn returned and opened Vi's cell, she immediately ran to your cell. Or at least tried to. The enforcer stopped her a few steps in. "The warden only let me release one of you. You understand that-" "No I don't! This wasn't part of the deal!" Vi went to grab the collar of Caitlyn's dress, the other wrapping her hands around Vi's wrists as she was pressed against the wall. "You will-" "If you try anything I will make sure you're put back behind bars and you never see that other inmate again." Cait rushed out. It wasn't what she wanted to resort to, threats, but it seemed to work.

Almost instantly Vi's grip loosened, slowly setting Caitlyn back down on the ground. Leaving you...

"Once we're done, you let her out. Immediately. No excuses, exceptions, or delays. And I get to say goodbye." Vi demanded. That was fair, anyone could agree to that. Thankfully Caitlyn began nodding, dusting her dress off. "Go ahead then. Afterwards we need to get going to the Undercity."

This was going to hurt.

Vi walked over to your cell, kneeling down at the bars. You were still all curled up, dead asleep. She gently knocked on the bars. "Bun..bun you gotta wake up." That was odd. Vi's voice sounded so close...as you opened up your eyes you saw your girlfriend just on the other side of the bars. There was no quicker way to wake up than seeing your lover free from her cell. "Vi! You escaped! How-" you were cut off by seeing Caitlyn standing behind Vi.

"Who is that?" "Y/N, I can explain." "Vi, who is that!" you were shouting now. You didn't even fully realize it. "She's the one that got me out-" "So now you're going to get me out?" you interrupted. Seeing the pain flash on Vi's face told you everything that you needed to know. "You're leaving me.." your voice was barely audible, but Vi caught every word. She could feel her heart shattering as she saw the tears form in your eyes. "It's only for a little bit. The warden wouldn't let us both out, once I'm done helping Caitlyn we're coming right back for you, I promise."

You wanted to believe her. Vi had never lied to you before, why would she start now? Maybe it was the fear of never seeing her again. Or maybe it had to do with the enforcer standing behind her. Caitlyn was beautiful, you had to admit, so what if...

"No, no this isn't right. Vi you can't leave me here!" you shouted, crawling up to the bars and reaching out to grab Vi's wrist. "Vi you can't leave me! Please don't leave me!" the tears finally began rolling down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away. Vi's own eyes were starting to gloss over with tears. "I'm coming back for you, Y/N. I swear on my life I'm not leaving you. It'll be a few days tops." "What does she," you nodded your head towards Caitlyn "even need help with, huh? What are you going to do for her?"

That cut deep. Vi tried not to take it to heart as she stood up, pressing one last kiss to the back of your hand. "I'm coming back for you." she repeated, steeling herself to actually leave. To not fall to her knees and tell Caitlyn to find someone else. This was your guy's chance of freedom. Even if this hurt you now, it was better in the long run. Everything would be better when you two could be together outside of Stillwater. "Bye bye, bun. I'll be back for you" and with that she turned around and started walking away. Vi knew if she turned around to look at you one last time, she'd never leave.

That's when the shouting started.

"Vi! Vi turn around right now! You can't leave me here!" you were standing up now, having an iron grip on the bars. Almost trying to bend them out of the way so you could run to Vi. Unfortunately you weren't that strong and the bars weren't that weak. "Violet don't leave me!"

Vi quickened her pace, rushing towards the elevator. Your voice was starting to blend with Powder's the day they were separated. It was all too much. She was going to find Powder and come back for you. Everything would be okay, everything would be right. As the elevator doors closed, she heard one last thing. Yours and Powder's voice were nearly indistinguishable from one another as you yelled out:

"TRAITOR!"

#arcane #vi arcane #vi x fem reader #fem reader #vi x reader #vi x you #vi x y/n

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queer-n-here · 2 months

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hi! It's me again from that Poe request :) I wanted to say thank you very much for doing my request! I loved it so much and you're an amazing writer, keep it up! but if you don't mind again, I have another :")) {you can ignore this by the way if u wanna I don't mind <3}

Same as before with Poe, but reader who very much is affectionate with Poe only than anyone else and only clings onto him and his attention (also reader likes to attach himself to hug Poe from behind when he's talking to someone)

your free to do my request anytime you like! (Keep up the good work!!)

Haiyah, thanks man! It's them compliments that always make my day! And y'all here on Tumblr are like, too nice. I do all the requests I receive y'know, unless they go explicitly against my 'morals' (I sound like Kunikida, hell)

It might take me some time, but if you've sent me a req and I've received it, I'll 100% do it!

Also, MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! NOW IS MY CHANCE TO WRITE FLUFF! YOU SHALL BOW BEFORE MY ABILITY; 'FLUFF ON TOP' MUAHAHAHA-

*Clears throat* Um, sorry. Anyways, here's the fic, hope you like it! It's a little short, though!

Contents: Jealous Clingy Reader x Edgar Allen Poe

Warnings: Fluff, slight (non-existent) mentions of sex.

Fluff HCs for Poe

Poe needs a clingy boyfriend, and you cannot convince me otherwise.

When he's overworking himself in his study, too caught up in his novel to keep track of time, he needs you, who'll go up to him and pick him up from his chair and carry him to the bed for cuddles, making him smile at you reluctantly.

When he's outside, maybe picking up some food for Karl, you go and wrap your arms around his waist, pulling his back up against your chest and putting your chin on his shoulder. He splutters and blushes, hissing that you two are in public, but you remind him what he was talking about before you intervened, and he gets distracted enough to let you enjoy him in your arms.

Sometimes you casually wrap your arms around Poe, even as he's talking to someone else, and bury your face into the crook of his shoulder, nuzzling his neck and planting soft kisses against his pale skin.

Poe acts like he doesn't like it, but even as he tries to pull away from your embrace at times, you can see how red the back of his neck and ears have gotten. It's cute, you think.

And then one day, while you're being even more clingy than usual (if that's even possible) during a date at a park, Poe suddenly raises a hand and waves at someone.

You looked up, squinting to search for the receiver of this greeting, and Poe starts walking away, towards whoever he'd been waving at. You follow, slightly sulking at his sudden shift of attention.

It turns out to be some detective. As Poe introduces you two, you faintly remember that this man, Ranpo, is the very same as the one Poe goes into long rants about.

How... Interesting.

You greet Ranpo with a nod, and Poe strikes up a conversation. Standing just a little behind Poe so that he can't see your expression, you glare down at Ranpo, your face full of black lines.

How dare he interrupt your date?

I mean, sure, it was Poe who reached out, but doesn't Ranpo know how to decline? Does he not have that function in his brain?

But Poe is smiling, talking excitedly and gesturing with his hands the way he does when he's having fun, so you lessen the intensity of your glare, and turn your head away to sulk instead.

It's Ranpo who breaks the conversation in the end, saying that he's out on some 'Agency business' and that he can't stay any longer.

You take Poe back to your shared house, and kiss him till he's aroused and wants to do it.

And that's how your day ends.

I mean, at this point, your clinginess is making Karl's life hell, too.

Whenever the poor raccoon tries to sit on Poe's shoulder, or just go up and get Poe's attention, you're standing right there in his way, arms wrapped around Poe's waist and eyes sharp as they glare at Karl.

How can you be jealous of a raccoon? Make it make sense.

And Poe, damn, he's obsessed with the feeling of your warmth around him, the way you hold him so close it gives him the butterflies. You're so gentle around him, you've got him convinced that he's breakable.

He knows he's the only one who receives this treatment from you. He's seen the way you look at other people, only half glances because they're just not important enough for you to care. He's seen you get angry, too, like that time you two were out to watch a movie and someone tried to cut in line before him. You look scary when you're angry, to put in simply.

And honestly? He loves every moment of it, even if he'd rather jump off a cliff than admit it.

What he doesn't know is that he doesn't need to. You see the way he leans into your touch, even while complaining about how clingy you are. You feel the way he nestles into you, no tension in his body as he can just relax. You perceive how he looks so assured whenever you're there, arms wrapped around him and peppering kisses on his face.

I mean, isn't that the sole reason you do it? Because he loves getting pampered and coddled even if doesn't want to admit it?

#dom male reader #top male reader #dom reader #bungou stray dogs #sub bsd #sub bsd x you #bsd x you #sub bungou stray dog x you #sub bungou stray dogs #sub character #sub character x you #sub poe x you #sub poe #sub edgar allen poe #sub edgar allen poe x you #fluff #bsd fluff

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createserenity · 4 months

Text

Master List of My Fics and WIPs

Been meaning to do this for ages, so here we go. All titles link through to the fics on AO3. Sunlight In Your Smile (M, 12k - wip)

Aziraphale has to attend a family wedding and he may have told a bit of a white lie. Of course he doesn't actually have a boyfriend. So now he needs to find one and in despair he turns to an escort agency for help.

Waking Up With You (G, 1.6k - complete)

Crowley has just left the shop for the night and Aziraphale is locking the door when it hits him out of the blue. Why are they doing this? Why is Crowley leaving?

After six thousand years together and free from Heaven and Hell, Azirpahale realises they need to take the next step in their relationship. Fluffiness all round!

All The Pieces of You (E, 73k - wip)

Aziraphale had known he found Crowley attractive for a long time, but there was nothing wrong with that. The Almighty had done a very nice job when she’d made Crowley and surely appreciating the work of the Almighty was what angels were supposed to do? It was nothing more than that.

Except now Aziraphale knows what lust feels like and that might be a problem.

A mixture of smut, fluff and ridiculous historical adventures.

In The Beginning (E, 8.9k - complete)

In the beginning there was a garden and the Angel of the Eastern Gate and the Serpent of Eden decided that there are better things to do than stand around in the rain getting wet.

Shameless smut, in which Aziraphale and Crowley learn what all the fuss is about sex.

Better Than Today (E, 4k - complete)

Whenever they fucked Crowley said, “I love you.”

It would probably help if they talked about it, but somehow they just keep ending up having sex instead.

Smut with a fluffy ending.

Give In To Desire (E, 4.4k - complete)

Crawley hadn't actually meant for this to happen. He'd thought he'd tempt the angel into eating and the angel would maybe have a few bites and discover that it wasn't so bad after all. He hadn't expected to be setting himself up to be tempted into the sin of lust.

Just another fic speculating on what happened in the basement during the Job minisode, because you can never have too many of those, right?

A Day For Magic (T, 3.4k - complete)

In which there is a bench, a park and a coin, which leads to silliness and fluffiness all round.

Fic inspired by these kisses.

A Time of Wanting (T, <1k - complete)

Crowley wants.

He wants so badly and he's wanted for so long that it's a physical ache in his chest now. Short ficlet that's fluffy and happy, despite how the summary makes it seem. Also inspired by the kiss picture linked above.

Goodnight Angel (E, 14.4k - wip but also works as it is)

Post lockdown-phone-call fic.

Aziraphale had told him not to come over, but he was a demon and obviously he wasn't going to listen. Besides he was going out of his mind with boredom and going to see the angel was a much better idea than a long nap.

WIPs

Apart from my main wip All The Pieces of You I've also got a follow up to In The Beginning in the works and eventually I'll go back to Goodnight Angel as well. Apart from that I'm going to list my wips here and try to keep track of them with tags and get a bit better at posting about them. Some of these will probably never get written, especially since a few days ago there was only 12, then I scrapped one altogether taking it down to 11 and now somehow I'm up to 15. Too many ideas in my head and too many half writtten fics on my computer.

After The Swap

Blind date

Dance for Me

End Times

Entertain Me

Here's to the End Times (yep different to the above fic despite the similar working title)

It's You (This one is a one shot human AU and might be posted soon)

Run Away Together

Sunlight In Your Smile (I've started posting this finally!)

Lockdown Lifted

So You Can Take It Off (Desperately want to finish this because it's different to anything else I've written)

South Downs

University

Run Away Together (very much a working title!)

This Land of Ours (fits in the Pieces of You universe)

Waking Up With You (This is now done and posted!)

Job (This is finished and posted as Give In To Desire - linked above - although technically there are more chapters in the works)

#my writing #all the pieces of you #goodnight angel #in the beginning #all the kisses in the world #good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #waking up with you #it's you #wips #give in to desire #fic list #university au #sunshine in your smile #human au #you are the best thing

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aetherdoesthings · 4 months

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AETHERRRRR. MY BELOVED. HIIII 'TIS I, ENIES LOBBY ANON!!!! :DDDDDDD (also I love hanahaki au fic, I know I said that already, but I just wanted to let you know again)

Came with another request!!! And surprisingly, it's not Robin, even though I love her sm. Feel free to take your time with this one, really, no need to rush! I know you said in your latest post that you haven't gotten the chance to write zoro a lot, so I'll request one for you :))). Also, I don't feel like emotionally wrecking myself, so no angst again, sadly.

Zoro x Reader, where Reader has a crush on Zoro and Reader does a bunch of secret little things for Zoro when she thinks he doesn't notice (like putting a blanket on him when he falls asleep, propping his head with a pillow, slipping the occasional sake bottle next to him, placing a glass of water besides his stuff while he exercises, etc). And I think that Zoro would find out about it but would want to see it for himself, so one day he catches Reader trying to do a secret act of service and it kinda leads into Reader confessing her feelings to Zoro? Anyways, I kinda love Zoro, if you couldn't tell. (but Robin will always be my wife. Unless you're willing to share lol.)

Anyways that was the request, take it or not, this is more for you than me and I just had an idea pop in my head. Thank you in advance!! Again, reminders that I love you and your work and blog are awesome!! :))))))

-Enies Lobby anon :DDD

hello eneis lobby anon!!! robin will always be my wife too 😁 (you can have her during summers)

forethoughts: i just came back from camp!!! i'm so exhausted and my muscles are in pain :,). oh well, life goes on. gonna start writing requests soon. feel free to request if you wish!

notes: gn!reader

From the moment you stepped on board the Sunny as the newest crew member, the sight of the green haired swordsman taking a small nap on deck or working out was enough to make your heart beat and palms getting sweaty.

Roronoa Zoro, the right hand man of the future King of the Pirates, the man who could wield three swords at the same time, and the man who always fell asleep on deck. You were swooned by his camaraderie and bravery in a fight, attracted to those muscles on his arms and back, and even on his legs because he never skipped leg day.

It was safe to say you were completely in love with him, and would do anything to keep him safe and sound.

You knew it was a one in a billion chance that Zoro would even like someone like you, but you didn’t want to simply stay on the side and watch Zoro shift uncomfortably on the wooden planks or shiver from the cold of the night.

Whenever you caught Zoro asleep leaning against the mast, you would put a weighted blanket on his body and a pillow behind his head.

When Zoro was going into the galley for lunch or dinner, you’d occasionally slip a bottle of sake into his hands like magic, to the point you made Zoro believe if he had the power to summon sake bottles.

Whenever Zoro announced he was going to lock himself in the gym until he was done working out, you’d sneak into his sanctuary and place two glasses of water on the floor, extra towels, some fruits and snacks, and a protein drink.

You did all of that as quiet and stealthily as you could, doing it whenever the rest of the Straw Hats weren’t looking. Zoro never noticed your actions; he was asleep after all. Or, that’s what you thought.

One day, as you were about to put the blanket on Zoro, you felt a gaze upon you; someone was looking at you doing this. You looked up at Zoro, and let out a yelp, the stone cold gaze of the swordsman boring into your eyes.

“So you’re the one doing this.” Zoro stated matter-of-factly with a monotone voice.

You recomposed yourself, hiding the pillow behind your back, but it was probably useless since the swordsman probably knew.

“I’m going to guess I’m not really magic, then? I can’t summon sake whenever I want?”

You stayed silent, looking at your shoes.

“Why are you doing all of this?”

You took a deep breath, as the bottle of emotions you had cramped inside your heart began to flood out. You ranted to Zoro about your feelings about him, that you were scared that he wouldn’t ever like you back and that you were out of his league. So you had resorted to doing tiny acts of service to channel and express your feelings. You kept talking, not once stopping for breath.

Once you finally stopped, you looked at Zoro, waiting for a reply.

“Well, you could’ve just said so next time.” Zoro scoffed, beckoning you to sit down next to him.

You did so, as Zoro pulled your body closer to him, pushing your head against his shoulder. He didn’t say anything after that, and you didn’t dare move. So you stayed there, head leaning on his shoulder as the two of you fell asleep.

#one piece #op #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #aetherasks #acts of service

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v3nomly · 9 months

Note

hiii saw your post abt modern au astarion and how you have requests open🤭 first of all i'm begging you please give us every single astarion thought you have........ kinda obsessed with modern au astarion🤭 could you please give us something about that where astarion still works in the justice system?? i'll never understand why people say he would have a different job, boy is literally born to be a lawyer/judge!! also have a lovely day😽😽😽 if you plan on keeping tabs on your anons may i be a 🍓 anon teehee

Ooo, I love the idea of modern lawyer Astarion. Instantly my brain went feral and threw my mind into the hyperbolic gutter. NSFW additions and a surprise appearance from ascended-adjacent Astarion under the cut. As always let me know if you want me to continue! Either as more thirsty ramble of an actual fic! Also I created a tag for you 🍓 anon! ♡

Astarion is just so charming and beguiling. He has everyone wrapped around his finger in that courtroom. Hanging off every saccharine word he says.

God, he’s just about lying through his teeth, but no one seems to care. He's spinning a careful web of truths and mistruths so intricate and show-stopping that he knows he has the jury right where he wants them.

You’re a bottom-of-the-food chain lawyer. New enough to the scene that you get stuck with all the shitty cases like this one. But veteran enough in the art of assholes to know the type of man Astarion is the moment you see him. The worst type of lawyer, one more befitting the name of a conman. Happy to line his pockets with the misfortune of others.

You couldn’t lie he was captivating. Every utterance of a word was a performance. Every gesture was a dance, and he played the part so well. It is what he does best.

It is when you utter one simple word that he finds his show comes to a halt.

“Objection,” you state voice almost meek, all eyes turn to you, and suddenly the spotlight has shifted.

Of course, the judge dismissed your claims, but it was enough to throw Astarion off his game. Sure, this wasn’t the first time someone had called 'objection', nor would it be the last. Yet, even with your voice as meek as it was your eyes held something he hadn’t witnessed in years. Clarity.

You saw through him, and the revelation almost made him want to laugh. You were refreshing, like an ice-filled cup of water on a sweltering summer day. For the rest of the trial, he gave you a chance to match his dance and god where you beautiful.

Maybe you stumbled or stepped on his toes, but you were merely unpracticed and the thought of you honed, your skills sharpened like a knife, brought a fiery excitement he hadn’t realized he was missing.

I could see him being subtly flirty every moment you were alone during the trail. Something that flustered the hell out of you, but you never let it affect your performance, which only furthered his interest.

When all is said and over, with the defense winning, a very proud and victorious Astarion comes over to shake your hand. Taking the opportunity to pull you just a step closer and invite you for drinks.

You knew better. Certainly knew that a guy like him was trouble, but you didn’t say no. While you wouldn’t admit it, you were somewhat eager to see what else Astarion was capable of. So much so that you had practically brought up the idea of him fucking you in the alley.

Your hands braced you against the wall, allowing you enough resistance to push back into each thrust, allowing Astarion to hit you deeper. His hands held firmly onto your hips, no doubt leaving the imprints of his long fingers on your skin.

"Fuck," you utter your legs wobbling, slowly turning to putty as he brings you closer to the edge. Astarion pauses his hold shifting to better support you. You hear him pant behind you, and you can only assume he's trying desperately to catch his breath. Just as caught up in the steamy exchange as you were. Before he steps back, allows his cock to slip free.

"Turn around, wanna see you, beautiful," the pet name speeds up your already racing heart. They were nothing new, something you had grown used to when his flirtatious remarks had started up, but the cadence of his voice felt more real, intimate.

Turning was a blessing and a curse, and both for the same reason. Astarion was handsome, there was no denying that. An air of royalty surrounded him, so perfectly pristine with so little effort. Now replaced with something just as gorgeous. White curls lay jostled, a few strands stuck to his forehead, pupils blow wide with lust, and lips swollen and bruised with the faintest strain of your lipgloss.

It isn't until he had you in his arms, a leg thrown over each one that you realize how strong he is. In the dim alley, you had only been able to make out the makings of what you assumed were abs, and while you had run your hands along his chest plenty during your initial makeout session you hadn't pegged him to be this fit. Nor did you realize how much you liked being picked up as if you were nothing but a small toy.

Astarion simply asks if you are ready, only waiting for your nod before he's once again buried deep inside you.

He kissed you sloppily, swallowing every breathy moan you let escape your pretty little mouth. Only pulling away to rest his forehead against your own.

There was little regret to be had when you let your gaze linger on him. Even as someone walks past the alleys threatening to expose your rendezvous. You think that you wouldn’t mind having him fuck you senseless again.

Dark Astarion

Imagine being his little Legal Secretary who deals with all his boring administrative issues.

Late office hours where he has his hand fisted in your hair, pulling tight, as guides you to choke on his cock. The deep laugh that would rumble through his chest right before he begins to mock you. Astarion would start off sweet with a little tease about how cute you are. Before his mouth would twist into the cocky smirk he wore so often. He’d make you look at him, mouth still placed around his aching length. You meet his eyes and moan around him. In the light, they almost appear red, like a predator ready to devour its prey. A sly fox and his dumb little rabbit.

You think for a second he’s going to praise you. Tell you how good you make him feel, so you look up at him eagerly with big doe eyes. Ready for whatever compliment would slip from his perfect lips.

“You're my personal little pet. Aren’t you darling? Only good for serving me,” he says, with little room for argument. Demeaning and possessive and the best compliment he could ever bestow upon you.

His smirk grows as he observes you squeeze your thighs together, cock growing impossibly harder when he thinks about how wet you’ll be when he has you bouncing on it later.

#astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion x you #astarion fanfic #reader insert #x reader #astarion #˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ 🍓 anon #˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ ven writes

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luvfy0dor · 6 months

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Hi there! How are you doing? I have a bit of a specific request, so if you feel like it’s too much, feel free to decline (:

May I please request a Fyodor x Male! Reader fluff fic? The reader is a scientist and for a particular experiment, he needs to map out the bones of the human body because the experiment calls for extremely precise work and he doesn’t want to hurt himself. So! Because his boyfriend is Fyodor ‘needs-to-remember-to-eat’ Dostoevsky, he decides to use Fyodor as his mapping system so when he does perform his experiment later on, he can do so without to risk of injury.

Here's where the fluff comes in (coming from an ex-med student who’s had to do this XD). Reader has to mark the bones on Fyodor’s body with a marker in order to see properly. As you can imagine, having a marker dragged across places where your nerves collect is ticklish as hell XD. So it turns into a battle of Fyodor trying not to giggle and move away from the marker while a very very mused reader tries to complete the bone map. Sooner or later the mapping is forgotten and the reader just tickles Fyodor to pieces (and perhaps writes a few teasing words on him) ‘in the same of science’. I speak from experience here, it’s the single most flustering thing in the history of ever.

If you feel you cannot do this, don’t stress yourself, it’s all cool. You can decline the request or alter the plot. Whatever’s easier for you ^^. Have a nice day!

“'Till Your Bones Feel Embarrassed From all The Attention ♡” Fyodor Dostoevsky x Male!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; Soft/Silly Fyodor, only proofread to an extent

Description; Reader is a scientist creating a map of the human body, and his boyfriend agrees to help him. When reader starts tracing his bones though, he can't keep himself calm.

A/n; BYE THIS IS THE CUTEST THING IN THE ENTIRE WORLD I saw this during my gym class and I got so excited ajsjfjej im sorry if any of this is incorrect, I'll change it if need be! I don't know all that much about anatomy and bones and stuff 😞

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For a particular experiment you were going to perform, you would need a bone map. You thought it would be a little awkward to ask one of your work peers to use their body for refrence, and no one was in the immediate area with you, so your conclusion was go home and ask your boyfriend to be your subject! After work, ofcourse. You sat on the thought for a while, occasionally having second thoughts, but at the same time what's the harm? What reason could he have to deny you? None.

So, you drove home confidently, entering the house with a smile and hanging your jacket. "Fyodor! I'm home!" You called out to him, walking through the house. Just as you reached for the handle of your bedroom door, he opened it. "Welcome home." He greets with a familiar soft smile, lifting your chin to pull you into a kiss. You accepted it with open arms and brushed your fingers through some of his hair. You pulled away after a moment, then interlocked your fingers with his. "Can i ask you a favor?" You questioned, tilting your head a bit as you observed his beautiful face. He hummed with a small nod, one of his hands on the small of your back. "Can I trace your bones through your skin?" He raised an eyebrow. "What for?"

"An experiment, I would do it to myself but that would be really difficult and probably hurt. And I'm not gonna ask that of my coworkers." You say, your eyes averting. "Which is exactly why you should let me do it to you. It won't hurt." You say, giving him the most reassuring smile you can muster. He blinks before talking. "Alright, if it's for you I suppose I don't mind." You smile and grab his hand, leading him to the living room. You grab a black marker from the kitchen quickly before returning to you boyfriend who was sitting cross legged on the floor, his ushanka on the nearby coffee table. You sit on your knees next to him, putting the marker down and starting to unbutton his shirt. Once it's completely undone, you toss it onto the coffee table as well. Uncapping the marker, you softly push Fyodor onto his back to lay down, a chill running down his spine as his skin hits the hardwood floor.

"Sorry, Fedya, I'll try to make it as quick as possible." He shakes his head as you bring the tip of the marker to his shoulder. "It's fine, it's for a good purpose, is it not?" He replies. Your legs are on either side of his waist as you straddle him, leaned in for as much precision as possible while one of his hands rests on your thigh. As you drag the felt tip along his skin, he deeply inhales, trying to suppress his giggles. His eyes are closed and his cheeks are tinted red while the ink stains his skin. The further down his chest you go, the clearer it becomes that your boyfriend is a little ticklish. You can't help but grin as you watch his body instinctively try to squirm away from the marker. You go to trace over his ribs and his back arches a little, the soft sound of his snickers make you grin and hold him down by pressing on his belly gently.

"Hey, you can't keep squirming like that! You're only makin' things harder for yourself." You say with a smirk, continuing to press the marker against his skin, drawing the curves of his ribs while his legs tense up with every movement. At some point, his head is thrown back while he tries to not violently shake with laughter. Seeing Fyodor in a silly and more vulnerable light warmed your heart, you truly felt lucky to get this side of him. His face was pretty red when he looked back up at you, seemingly having tears stuck to his eyelashes in suck a beautiful way. You assessed your work with your hands on your hips and nodded. You lifted yourself off of his lap a little and he seemed to have a bit of relief on his face.

"W-We're done, moya lyubov?" He asked while catching his breath. You shook your head, smirking as you twirled your finger in a circle. "No, you gotta turn over so I can do your back; I don't know how quick this marker dries though.." you say, raising an eyebrow and pressing one finger to a line and lifting it, smiling at the lack of transfered ink. "Alright, go on." You say, waiting for him to roll over. He does, resting his head on his folded arms with a small exhale. You return to your spot and push his hair to the side while tracing the top bones in his spine. He immediately inhales harshly and bites his lip, once again attempting to ignore his ticklishness. You notice and grin, deciding to mess around a little to see his giggly side a bit more. You wrote out 'nerd' before his voice finally broke through his giggles. "I don't think that's the shape of my spine, my dear." He says, trying to look at you over his shoulder.

You give him a look of faux confusion, tilting your head and looking at the word. "Hmm...no, no I think that is, actually." Your nose scrunches up in a snicker. Fyodor can't help but smile ever so slightly. "What does it say that makes it so funny?" He questions, propping himself up at his elbows. "It says beautiful." You say, a Cheshire cat-like look on your pretty face. "I can tell you're lying, myshk-ah!" He's cut off by the marker again, his arms outstretching. His forehead is pressed against the floor while his entire body gently quakes with giggles under his breath. His fist pounds the ground quietly once or twice before you reach the middle of the bone structure.

"Is it really that ticklish?" You ask, laughing to yourself. He can only nod. "I think my Fyodor is just a bit dramatic." You say, putting the marker down and starting to tickle his sides. His breath audibly hitches and he tries to scrunch up his body to crawl away, only to no avail. "This was supposed to be for a science experiment! You're getting quite off task." He says through his very rare fit of laughter. Even the softest stroke to his lower back would make his entire body jerk, and it made you smile. He had managed to roll over, and tried to get your hands away from him, but he's not the strongest when it comes to his upper body, so ultimately you got him pinned back down. Through the fit of giggles, you found yourself having such a good time with your lover. It was very rare that something like this happened, but you both never minded it when it did.

Once you calmed down a bit, you peppered feather-soft kisses along Fyodors shoulders, having almost completely forgotten about the mapping. He quietly hummed, running a hand up and down your back. You had made your way to your bedroom and cuddled up next to him while he read a book. You watch his eyes scan the lines of text, your own occasionally reading some paragraphs or sentences. "Thank you fedya, your contributions so science will go a very long way." You say proudly, kissing his cheek. He quietly chuckles and nods. "I'm sure it will, Moya Lyubov. You're very smart after all. I trust that you'll put my utter suffering to good use." He says with a small smirk. "I was right, my Fyodor is very dramatic." You say with a laugh and roll your eyes. He just smiles and continues his reading as you rest your head on his shoulder, sleepily reading along with him.

A/N; Idk if y'all do it too but I rotate through words of the week, this week is "blawg". If someone replies to a msg I sent with a slightly aggressive tone; "blawg did not like that one!!" Also irl I audibly "!!" I'm sorry if y'all don't like "!!" But I can't stop it's ingrained in my blood atp.

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