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fweasleyswhore · 3 years

Note

If you are taking requests for the kinkmas list, can I pretty please get, dry humping & humiliation kink for george 🥺 thank you! If not it’s completely fine, no worries!

Kinkmas Day 1:

Humiliation and Dry Humping

George Weasley - Get Off

a/n: I have already told you but this is so hot and it was really fun to write, thank you for this request <3 I know its a few days late but ofc right after I got excited for kinkmas I got my period and its hard to write when I cant stop crying and hurt hella bad lmao - all good now tho

pairing: george weasley x gender neutral reader (mentions reader wearing a skirt, no pronouns)

word count: 1.4k

warnings: smut, humiliation/degradation, dry humping, p short my b

Fuck. It had been all day. An entire day of purposeful brushes, small touches, dirty words, and then, nothing. Strutting through the halls of the castle I couldn’t deny the burn that spread through my entire body. All-day, all damn day, George had been teasing me. And now I could not find him.

The only thing stopping me from heading to my dorm and fixing the problem myself were his words.

“Hold out for me sweetheart, tonight I want to show you the stars.” The words echoed through my head again making a shiver run down my spine. The words he whispered to me during herbology followed by a light smack on my ass fueled the fire I now felt all over. I had scoured the entire castle after dinner, starting in his dorm and then everywhere else. I even checked the library but to no avail. I decided I would try the last few places before I completely gave up. It was by no doubt after curfew by now, and I didn’t mind disobeying George if I literally couldn’t find him.

Trudging up the stairs to the astronomy tower I played with the hem of my skirt. If I focus hard enough I could almost feel George’s hands raking up my thighs, a feeling that I craved so badly right now.

Making it to the top of the tower I gingerly pushed open the door, a soft plush mattress sat on the floor, covered with an immense amount of blankets and the soft glow from a few floating candles surrounding the area. I felt my breath hitch as my eyes trailed to the lanky ginger boy laying on the bed.

“What is this?” I asked softly. His head popped up at the sound. His eyes were dark but his face adorned a giddy smile that made me weak knowing I was the cause.

“Well, I did say I wanted to show you the stars now didn’t I?” He said in a cocky voice, his head cocked on the side.

I felt my cheeks heat up as guilt panged my stomach. “Oh Merlin, I’m an idiot aren’t I?”

“Maybe, but you’re my idiot.” He said plainly. I couldn’t help but smile at the boy, laying down slightly, propped up on his elbows, legs spread. His school sweater was nowhere in sight, and his tie laid untied around his shoulders. He looked delicious, and I needed him.

“I wasn’t aware I belonged to you,” I said lightly, sauntering over to him I watched the way his smile fell and had to hide my own smile as I plopped down next to him on the bed.

“After everything I did to you today you still want to be a brat?” He asked pulling himself up and looking at me like a predator would his prey.

“I have no idea as to what you are talking about.” I lied cooly. I was thankful for the dark lighting hiding what I assume to be a dark blush coating my features.

He sighed and pulled his tie off of his shoulders. His hands rung the fabric, tightening around it for a moment so his veins popped out ever so slightly. The sight made my desire deepen and I rubbed my thighs together, feeling my wetness begin to pool as the day’s events caught up to me.

“What you are doing says differently sweetheart,” He didn’t look at me as he spoke, opting to continue to play with his tie. “What you are doing is telling me that you’re a misbehaving whore who needs to be put in their place.” He finally looked at me. The tie in his hands now was pulled into an intricate knot that had two loops similar to handcuffs.

“I watched you today, I watched you rub your thighs together in potions like you wanted me to bend you over right there.” His words had my mouth dry and my pussy drenched. I had no words or cheeky comeback as he watched me with dark hungry eyes. Every word sending me closer to the edge. “I watched how after every interaction we had you grew more desperate, you may say you don’t belong to me but your body sure does, and by the end of the night your mind will too.”

I opened my mouth to shout something back but before I could his lips met mine in a wet sloppy kiss. His hands soon found my waist and hoisted me up onto his lap, straddling him. From the new angle, our kisses grew more heated and synced. His hands trailed down my waist to my hips, he pushed me down rutting his hips into mine. I felt his clothed bulge grind straight into my core and I didn’t hold back the moan that erupted from my chest. He took that moment to stick his tongue in my mouth, I didn’t bother fighting him with my own, I continued to grind into him sucking on his tongue. He squeezed my hips and pushed up again in sync with my own rhythm I had set that felt amazing. I pulled back letting out a high-pitched whine.

“Look at you saying you’re not mine but falling apart before I have even properly touched you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were soaking, no one else can do this to you, you’re my whore.” I simply nodded at his words. Too caught up in the pleasure he was giving me to formulate a proper response. “Do you think I could get you off on my thigh? Do you think you could get off by humping my thigh like a worked up whore?” I buried my head in his neck, continuing to rut my hips into him as he spoke I felt my orgasm quickly approaching, and the thought of having to stop to situate myself on his thigh seemed counterproductive.

“N-No.” I barely whispered. “Don’t need to.” His hand trailed up my side and behind my head, until he grabbed a fistful of my hair, pulling harsh enough to pull my head back but not enough to hurt me. I looked at him with half-lidded eyes. The devilish smile plastered on his face told me he was enjoying me falling apart on his lap.

“Gonna cum from this?” He asked pushing his hips into mine with force. I whined, nodding as much as I could with his hand in my hair.

“Yes, god yes,” I said hastily. The knot in my stomach was fraying at the ends, beginning to fall apart or snap any second. “Please Georgie, need to cum, need to cum now,” I begged.

I watched as his smile fell into a more serious expression, the hand on my hip grew a tighter grip as he spoke. “Say it, slut. So eager for me, about to cum without me touching you, admit it. You’re mine.” His voice was a few octaves deeper than normal and slightly hoarse. His words pushed only further at the knot in my stomach which was moments away from unraveling.

“I’m yours, all yours Georgie. Please let me cum, please let your whore cum for you.” I begged, rutting my hips harder. I screwed my eyes shut, willing my every fiber to wait for his permission.

“Cum for me.” I fell apart in his lap. Panting out broken ‘thank you’s, and blinking away tears. He released my hair and my head fell forward onto his chest, I slowed down my hips and soon enough my breath followed suit.

“Yknow, I was joking when I said that I didn’t belong to you,” I said breathlessly. I felt his chest rumble against my forehead as he laughed, one hand running up and down my back soothingly.

“I know, I just wanted you to know you couldn’t get away with that.” He whispered in my ear. I picked my head up gingerly, looking into his lust-filled eyes.

“Can you do something for me?” I asked quietly, trailing a hand up his chest. He hummed in response causing me to let the smile I was trying to hide slip onto my lips. “Prove to me your mine.”

“Oh, you are in for it now.” I couldn’t hold back the giggle that left my lips as he pushed me down onto my back, towering over me.

Tonight would be a long night.

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kookieswan · 3 years

Note

okay okay okay sorry for the spaz, you can absolutely write my other request! But if you don't wanna post it for fluff/angst weekend, here's another option for you...

Seokjin wants to make you feel better after a long stressful day so he cooks for you and cracks jokes to make you smile and cuddles you is all around perfect fluffy husband material (I'm marinating in seokjinnie feels rn if you couldn't tell) 💜🌻🌸

Seokjin x Reader

Word Count: 716

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, Jin’s humor.

Note: lmao not a spaz, this is so cute! Finally, I get to use my arsenal of terrible jokes and puns

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Your Dork, Darling

Walking into your house, you were almost instantly bombarded by your handsome boyfriend. He met you at the door, taking your jacket and bag as soon as you crossed the threshold. After sliding your shoes off, he shuffled you over to the kitchen, sitting you down at the table where a beautiful dinner sat waiting for you.

You take it all in, blown away that he had somehow managed to make both your favorite dish and dessert all in the time you had been gone. Today had been particularly stressful, your boss running you ragged for hours on end. You had mentioned to Jin during your break earlier that the day had been trying, and apparently, he took that to heart.

He had ace timed you almost instantly, on his own break during practice. He looked unimaginably good, a tad bit sweaty and winded, but with a huge smile on his face and eyes crinkling at the corners. He had assured you that he’d be there when you got home, ready to give you all the love and affection you deserved. You’re broken out of your thoughts as speaks up.

“Give it a taste! I made your favorite darling.” He blows a small kiss toward you, and you catch it quickly before picking up your utensils excitedly. It looks delicious, and it’s not long before you’re digging into the food at a pace that’s probably a little quick. Jin wanders over, sitting down a glass of wine in front of you before taking his own seat.

“Well, how is it? Did I do good?” You hum a little playfully, pretending to think about it. Of course, it’s good, anything Jin makes for you is always delicious. Having a boyfriend that can cook so well is a godsend truly.

“It’s fantastic Jin. Thank you so much for the meal, I really needed it.” He smiles at you, your favorite smile where the corners of his mouth turn upwards ever so slightly, and his cheeks puff up. You feel a large urge to kiss him but push it down since you’re nearly starving still. The thought lingers in the back of your mind that you’d like to make him something special too sometime.

He always takes such good care of you. An amazing man even when he’s constantly busy with work, you couldn’t ask for anything more. Looking over at Jin, he waves his chopsticks around, piece of food clenched tightly between them.

“Hey, hey! What do you give a sick lemon? Lemon aid!” He’s not even waiting for response anymore, high pitched squeaks coming out of him as he laughs. The joke was so terrible that it somehow ended up being funny, but what’s really getting you is his laugh. It’s adorably endearing, high pitched squeaks and all.

You continue dinner, Jin telling horrible jokes as you choke on your food in response. You scarf up dessert quickly, giving him a long kiss before he practically carries you over to the couch in the living room. He sits and pulls you down after him, telling you another terrible joke about a couch and the cushion of his ass.

“Woooow, that was a good one love. You should be a comedian” He splutters a little, claiming that he would make a great comedian. He would, he’d be good at anything he put his mind to. He kisses the back of your head a few times, then your neck down to your shoulders stridently. You giggles turn into a shriek as he blows a raspberry against your shoulder. Leaning back into his chest, you’re barely expecting it when he whispers sensually into your ear.

“Why’s six afraid of seven? Because seven eight nine!” Cue the laughter again after he nibbles on your ear humorously. Tilting back further, you huff and lay against him happily as he continues to snicker at his own humor. It’s amazing how he manages to crack himself up so often.

“Man, you are such a dork.” Pinching your sides, he continues to enjoy hearing you laugh, knowing that you were feeling sad earlier had clearly bothered him, and you really appreciate him doing so much to try and make you feel better, even if he’s terrorizing you.

“Hmmm, maybe, but I’m YOUR dork darling. “

#seokjin x reader #seokjin fluff #seokjin oneshot #seokjin drabble #seokjin #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts one shot #bts drabble #bts

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strawberrywritings · 4 years

Text

Personal gratitude.

A/N: I am sorry about not posting, but I promise I’ll try to be more consistent!🙈 so let tell you how i wrote this: I was thinking about making a Bishop smut (long ovedue), but I had no plot… until @spookyboogyuniverse sent me a message. I changed a bit the relationship between the reader and Nestor+Miguel, but the main points of the plot are the same. Emily is nowhere to be seen because that’s how I like it lmao I really hope you guys like it! Xx🍓💖

Warning: mentions of violence, oral sex (female receiving), protected sexual intercourse, dirty talk, shitty plot and probably bad grammar i am so rusty

/ Masterlist

Summary: Alvarez gets kidnapped and you’re with Miguel and Nestor when they get the news: you offer your help, as Miguel calls the Mayans to join the search. After Marcus is found, everyone celebrates and the president has a unique way of showing his gratitude.

When shit went down, you immediately sensed it was something big, especially with the way Miguel and Nestor were looking. Being childhood friends with them, and not being a stranger to this life, you had waited for them to finish their meeting, and had offered to help.

“I know I may not have the same amount of connections you two have, but I know some people. I could call them and tell ‘em to keep an eye out”, you said, and Miguel looked at Nestor, not because he didn’t trust you, but he knew that this situation had to be handled with caution, so he wanted to make sure it would not compromise things even more.

When Nestor nodded, you stepped outside and started making calls, telling everyone only what they needed to know to make sure this whole thing ended quickly. You followed them with your car, making a few stops as Miguel alerted people.

“What the…”, you muttered to yourself as Miguel’s car, with Nestor driving, headed outside the city and towards the desert. You parked the car right behind them, hopping off and about to question what the hell you were doing in the middle of nowhere, but the sound of engines caught your attentions: quite a few bikes made their way to where you were standing, and you immediately recognized their kutte. Everyone knew who the Mayans were, but you had no idea Miguel worked with them. Eight men made their way towards Miguel, as you kept stading off to the side, your back leaned against your car while you waited for them to finish talking.

You might’ve been quiet, but your presence didn’t go unnoticed; you were focused on Miguel and Nestor explaining everything that happened to a man, who was standing a few steps ahead of the others, “probably the president”, you thought, and from the corner of your eye you could see people’s eyes on you, the exchanged whispers.

“What’s she doing here?”, a voice said, and Nestor looked at you as you narrowed your eyes at the tall man who had spoken. “She’s with me, you got a problem with that?”, Miguel said, never taking his eyes off the same man you were watching, and everyone was quick to say “no” and apologize.

Fast forward to the day after. Turns out, your contacts were able to actually help with Alvarez’s kidnapping, someone had seen the people responsible for it and, thanks to that, Nestor was able to track them down and now they were with Miguel in his church pew, he needed answer and he needed them fast. In less than 2 hours, not only did Miguel manage to find Marcus, but he also got everyone else involved in the kidnapping, and you didn’t have to ask what would happen to them. You might not have been completely involved in this kind of life, but you were no stranger to it. After Miguel had taken off his yellow raincoat and changed his suit, he came back home and joined you in the living room.

“I remember when we took that picture, I ate that awful soup she made because it was the only way she would let me go out and play”, he said, you could hear the smile in his face and you turned around, smiling, too. It was nice to be back to “normal” after the past few days, filled with worry, fear and rage.

“I remember how that soup tasted, I hated it, too”, you giggled, tracing your finger on the frame encasing the picture. Placing it back on the shelf, you smiled at him and got your purse from the sofa. “I think I should go, I am glad I was able to help, though”, you smiled, going over to him and hugging him, kissing his cheek. “Hey, there’s a party at that clubhouse, the Mayans. Marcus will be there and he asked me if you could come, he wants to thank you personally”, Miguel said, smiling at you as you nodded. “Sure, just text me the address”, he nodded and you both said goodbye, saying also goodbye to Nestor on your way out.

That night, you opted for a nice dress, still casual, since you knew where this clubhouse was and it was nothing compared to the parties Miguel usually attended, but it was nice to be celebrating something like this. After parking your car next to the bikes, you made your way inside. The Mayans sure knew how to throw a party. Alcohol and girls were everywhere, but you didn’t have time to make a tour of the place because Nestor got your attention.

“Hey – he greeted you by kissing both of your cheeks – come on, Marcus is eager to thank you”, he smiled, leading you to the man himself. Marcus didn’t look too bad, just a couple scratches on his face, and surely his body, but he was alive. You started talking, him saying how grateful he was that you helped Miguel.

“If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here”, he said, taking a sip from his beer. You chuckled and shook your head, “I doubt it, Miguel would’ve found you anyways, he’s very good at what he does… I just happened to make the right calls”, you said with a smile. You kept talking for a while, until you excused yourself to go get a drink.

Drink in hand, you leaned your back against the bar and looked around, until your eyes caught the ones of the president himself. Bishop was sitting with some of his men around a table, smoking a cigar. He had his eyes trained on you but from the way his lips moved you could tell he was still carrying on the conversation. Something in his eyes was drawing you in, but you quickly shoved your impure thoughts in the back of your mind and decided to explore the place, instead.

You took a stroll in the outside area, the actual scrapyard, the corridors of the dorms and then you ended up in Templo. You didn’t think nothing of it, examining the colorful door up close, and sitting in one of the chairs, finally some peace and quiet, which you had been craving for the past 72 hours.

“You wanna prospect?”, the voice almost gave you a heart attack, and you turned around to see Bishop staring down at you. “No…?”, you furrowed your brows. “Then unless you’re a patched Mayan, you can’t be in here”, he replied, walking slowly until he reached the bigger chair, right beside you, and he sat down. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”, you had no idea there were rules, and you were ashamed of having broken them, you should’ve known better. You made a move of getting up from your seat, but he his hand caught your wrist before you could turn away. Your eyes went from his hold on you to his eyes, his expression stoic.

“I wanted to thank you”, he said, and it felt like he was shouting, the only sound was the chatter coming from the party. “For what?”. “Marcus es mi primo” Marcus is my cousin, he said, and you shrugged. “It’s no problem, really, I was glad I could help”, you gave him a small smile, but none of you talked more. His eyes were still locked with yours when he got up, his hand always around your wrist as he neared you, his body almost touching yours, almost. “Let me thank you properly”, his lips were centimeters away from yours, all you had to do was push yourself forward and your lips would meet. He didn’t move, letting you decide what to do… did you want this? Your eyes looked at his lips, plump and inviting, he smelled like nicotine and beer and something else and it was so manly. You couldn’t help but to give in, letting your body guide you into his, your lips finally connecting in a heated kiss. His hands immediately went to your hips, squeezing them in his hands and bringing you close to him. Everything happened in a blur, one second you were making out and the next you were laying on top of the big wooden table, your panties around your ankle and his head between your thighs, and damn, he was good.

“You sure you wanna keep going?”, you nodded, completely out of breath as he looked for his pants. “Condom?”, you asked him just as he took it out of his wallet, and he smiled at you even as he sat down on the president’s chair, putting on the condom and pumping himself. “Come take a ride, sweetheart”, his voice was like pure honey and you didn’t waist time, situating your legs on both sides of his hips before slowly starting to slide down onto him. Your mouth hung open as he filled you, and his hands returned to your hips, squeezing them to take him mind off the fact that he just wanted to fuck you senseless. You let out a high-pitched whine when he bottomed out, his balls pressing against your ass as he only had shoved his pants down enough to take out his dick. A smack to your right cheek brought you back to reality, “Move, cariño”, he said, his lips ghosting over your neck. You obeyed immediately, “Yes, sir”, you didn’t mean to call him that, it just slipped… this man was made to give orders and you would gladly obey, especially if it meant fucking him on top of his president’s chair.

Your hips bounced on top of him, and you kept going even when your thighs started to ache from the strain: you were determined to cum, and between how good he felt inside you, his groans and moans, you knew it would not take long. One of his hands reached up and grabbed the side of your face, kissing you again before making a trail down your neck, your chest, and closing his lips around one of your exposed nipples. The sensation made you moan and clench around him, your hands now on his shoulder for leverage.

“Get on the table”, he spoke, biting gently on the skin of your breast, and you did as he told you. Spreading your legs wide with his hands, he spit directly onto your lips, spreading the moisture with the tip of his cock, before filling you up again and rolling his hips against yours. “Fuck, just like that”, you closed your eyes as one of your hands went to fondle your breasts, and he smirked. “Am I gonna make you cum?”, you nodded frantically as your moans got louder with every pump of his hips against yours. “Yes, please, please”, you mewled, and he slowed down, making you whine in protest. “Please what?”, he taunted, his eyes switching between your face and his dick disappearing inside you. “Please sir, please make me cum”, you shamelessly begged, your bruised hips rising up to meet his thrusts and your hand reaching your clit, touching yourself. “Así, tócate, touch yourself, cum all over my cock, nena”, his hands gripped your hips as he started to fuck you with wild abandon, not even bothering to try and keep quiet, both your moans echoing in the room.

When you reached your orgasm, it was like a hot flash, your eyes watered from the pleasure and you arched your back. Your pussy pulsated as it milked his dick, his growl ceasing once he was finished, taking a moment to breathe again. when he slid out of you, you let out a sight, you were sure his cock had you addicted and all you could think about was another round. Silence fell over you two as he tied the condom and zipped his pants back up; you had gotten down from the table, fixed your dress and your panties were back in their place.

“I should go”, you stated. “Don’t you wanna stay for the party?”, you chuckled and he smiled. “It’s okay, I already had as much fun as I could”, he smiled and opened the door of Templo for you. He watched as you made your way through the bodies cramped up in the small room, looking at him over your shoulder one last time before disappearing outside.

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#obispo losa x reader #obispo losa imagine #mayans imagine #my writing

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alolowrites · 4 years

Text

A Beautiful Blessing

Summary: Someone leaves a mysterious box outside your apartment in the middle of the storm. Fortunately, no one gets hurt.

Author’s Note: This is my first story for @bnhabookclub‘s Hero Camp Bingo event happening right now! It officially runs from June 5th until August 15th and I received my very own bingo card to fill out. Fun fact, I wrote this story prior to the bingo event happening (lol), so I’m glad it worked out!

I posted my bingo card below. Each time I submit a story for this event, I will cross off the prompt I used as well. The first prompt I crossed off was Adopt a Pet! Please enjoy!

Word Count: 1.5K

A powerful storm rages through your neighborhood.

It is the perfect excuse to stay inside and watch random Netflix movies with your favorite person by your side. You snuggle closer to Shinsou, resting your head on his shoulder; his arm comfortably holds you and acts like a weighted blanket that nearly puts you to sleep. You suppress a yawn as an impromptu lullaby emerges from the raindrops pelting against the glass window.

The movie ends, and you stretch forward, “Pick the next one.”

Shinsou reaches for the remote, moving the bowl of popcorn sitting in the middle. You snatch it before the snack falls, avoiding a great tragedy. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for last week’s popcorn mess; the couch wouldn’t stop crunching up a song that night. Shaking your head, you shove a handful of the buttery goodness into your mouth and check some text messages. Your ears perk when a distinct sound rings outside.

“Did you hear that?” You glance at the window. A ray of lightning scatters across the dark clouds, which looms above the apartment building, “It sounded like a high-pitch mewl.”

Shinsou shrugs, “Probably your thought process at work.”

You whack his stomach. He snickers and continues scrolling through the selection.

“Very funny,” you dryly remark. The wind howls as the storm picks up its strength. A bright, white sheet temporarily blinds the entire sky, followed by a ferocious thunder that shakes the apartment complex. Through your munches, you hear the high-pitch noise return. With narrowed eyes, you stand up from your couch, “I’m gonna go check it out.”

“I’ll start the movie without you if you take too long.”

“Pfft, sure.” You stride toward the door, but regret opening it when the rain rudely greets your face. Groaning, you rapidly scan around until something catches your eye. An odd, medium-sized cardboard box sits near the door, a raggedy shirt flapping on top; you become suspicious.

“Hitoshi!” His eyes immediately peel away from the TV at the sound of your worried voice. You look over your shoulders, “There’s a random box outside.”

Shinsou springs into action, “Don’t touch it and get away from the door!”

He snatches his scarf and rushes to the entrance. Just as you turn around, the same mewl cries from inside the box; it sounds like a baby animal. Your curiosity ultimately wins as you kneel to inspect the package. Shinsou screams out your name, but you ignore him like an idiot. Tossing the torn cloth aside, you gasp at the sight below—it’s a little kitten.

“Oh, you poor thing!”

The frightened animal shivers in the farthest corner from you. It helplessly cries like a broken record, and your hands reach inside to comfort the wet bundle. Shinsou arrives with his scarf ready to protect you from an attack. His defensive stance weakens when he sees a black kitten in your grasp.

You shield the animal from the rain, “Let’s get inside! Find me a towel!”

A trail of water droplets follows you to the kitchen. Shinsou hands you a towel before heading outside again to inspect the box. The kitten meows as they get dried, their head twisting nonstop and body squirming around. You couldn’t blame the innocent feline for being petrified. After a few minutes, you uncover the kitten and scratch behind their ears to calm them down; it works like a charm.

Cradling the fur baby in your arms, you search for a warm blanket and head to the couch. Shinsou finally joins you with a puzzled expression. His eyes land on the kitten comically wrapped up like a burrito. The animal sneezes and owlishly blinks at Shinsou; the hero fights back a snort.

“Was there anything else inside?”

“Nothing. Not even a single note.”

You frown, stroking the kitten’s forehead, “Who the hell left this poor baby outside in that dirty box? Especially in the middle of this horrible storm! What if we weren’t home to save them? I don’t even want to imagine how much this fur ball would have suffered.”

“I’m wondering why they chose our apartment,” Shinsou mutters, his mind trying to remember anyone who might know his address. He tries to keep his personal life under wraps, even if he works more as an underground hero. Only his closest friends know where he lives, but they never would do something like this. Shinsou didn’t find any explosives or deadly chemicals inside the box, ruling out a villain. Maybe a crazed fan? He’s had a few run-ins with them before. Your giggles interrupt his brooding thoughts.

Lilac eyes shift down and watch as the kitten chews on your finger. A small grin curves on Shinsou’s lips at the adorable sight. You loosen the blanket so the kitten can move more freely. Little paws press on your thighs as its button nose sniff your clothes.

Shinsou tilts his head, “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“Good question,” you hum and inspect the kitten’s behind, “It’s a girl!”

“We need to take her to the vet tomorrow,” Shinsou’s hand immediately gets attacked by the kitten’s paws and he chuckles while playing along. The exuberant fur ball distracts him from his thoughts, nipping the hero’s fingers with their sharp teeth. It does not hurt Shinsou one bit; if anything, the bite feels more like a small prick. He then grins, “Got to get this little rascal properly checked out for any injuries and see if she’s a lost pet.”

“I doubt she’s a missing pet.” An annoyed thumb jerks behind you, “This little angel was left outside our doorstep in a wet cardboard box. If anything, I want to find the person who abandoned her like this and kick their ass.”

A meow squeaks below. You gesture at the kitten and chirp, “See? Even she agrees with the idea!”

“Let’s take this one step at a time,” Shinsou smirks before searching for the nearest veterinary office on his phone. You roll your eyes and continue to play with the energetic kitten. Shinsou does not react when you reach for his scarf to entertain your new guest. Dangling the fabric in the air, you squeak when the kitten jumps and grabs it; the scarf quickly engulfs the fur ball’s tiny frame. After a few shuffles, her head pops out, and you laugh.

“Got the address,” Shinsou takes a screenshot of one location. He glances at the kitten who endearingly tilts her head at him; he shakes his own, but a faint smile creeps on his face, “I guess we’ll create a make-shift bed for her in our room.”

“Ooooh, yes! I got some old clothes we can use.” You scoop the kitten in your hands and jump off the sofa. Heading to the bedroom, you cry out, “C’mon! She needs some rest; poor baby has been through a lot for one night.”

Shinsou doesn’t argue with you as he snatches his scarf off the couch and follows closely behind.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

“Well,” the veterinarian does a quick once-over at her patient. You wait with bated breath for the doctor’s results. Shinsou stands beside you with arms crossed, “Despite missing some vaccinations, she appears to be a healthy three-month-old kitten. I gave her a couple of shots, but she will need to come back in a few weeks for the next doses, though.”

You are relieved, “Thank you, Dr. Sasaki!”

“You’re welcome,” she smiles, bopping the animal’s nose, “The kitten also has no prior owner since I did not detect a microchip. She’s all yours!”

The curious kitten almost falls off the exam table, but you grab her with lightning speed. As soon as the doctor leaves, you face Shinsou and slice the air with your hand, “We have to keep her!”

“Huh?”

“I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer. She has no home, and I don’t want her ending up in a shelter. Besides, look at her!” You raise the kitten to his eye level and pout to strengthen your case. Shinsou arches an amused eyebrow. “How can you say no to that itty-bitty face?”

On instinct, the kitten meows and instantly melts the hero’s heart. He scratches the back of his neck while saying, “Okay, fine. We’ll keep her.”

You squeal, cradling the bundle of joy closer to your chest; she purrs softly in your arms. Shinsou enjoys seeing you this happy. Unbeknownst to you, he already made his decision after yesterday’s events. You and Shinsou played with the kitten all night long, laughing as she eagerly swatted a piece of yarn dangling mid-air. Once the mini tigress tired herself out, Shinsou tucked her into her make-shift bed.

Your smile brings him back to the present, “We still need a name for our little girl.”

“How about Emi?”

“Emi…” You test out the name and your eyes sparkle, “It’s perfect!”

Shinsou wraps an arm around your waist and fondly looks at his new child while grinning, “Welcome to the family, Emi.”

She is indeed a beautiful blessing.

Which prompt will be crossed off next? Who knows, depends on what my brain comes up with lmao.

As always, thank you for reading!

Hero Camp Bingo Masterlist

#shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou x reader #shinsou imagines #bnhabookclub #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #hero camp bingo #adopt a pet #fluff #kittens are ADORABLE

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icyharrington · 5 years

Text

Is It Wrong?- The Epilogue (Michael Langdon X Reader)

HELLO ALL!!! here is the long-awaited epilogue to finally finish the is it wrong series. i sincerely hope y’all enjoy this, and i am SO sorry for taking forever to write this!! i had some kind of mental block stopping me, but i finally forced myself to sit down and JUST DO IT. i wanna thank every last one of you who’ve supported this series of filth, especially the ones who’ve been here since the beginning. when i published that first chapter, i never realized just how much joy this fucked up little story would bring into my life. y’all are the best.

plot: it’s been 5 years since your whirlwind fuckfest-turned-romance with your stepbrother, michael langdon, came to its angst-filled end. life is good, but there’s just one thing missing.

warnings: fuckboy michael, fem!Reader, post-high school au, fluff, some angst, cursing/talk of sexual shit/yanno the deal lmao. no smut..... IM SORRY LOL IT JUST DIDN’T FIT INTO WHAT I HAD PLANNED!!! but i hope y’all still like it regardless lmao

word count: 4k

tag list*: @alicecooper19 @wroteclassicaly @ritualmichael @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @trelaney @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @kissydevil @sloppy-wrist @michael-langdon-appreciation @ccodyfern @sojournmichael @starwlkers @theinevitableprophecy @divinelangdon @maso-xchrist @space-princesssss @ahslangdon101 @isabellaserpentiawesson @stupidocupido @bademliimagnum @nana15774 @urlocalgothb @hexqueensupreme @gold-dragon-slayer @pr1ncessd1e @langdonsboots @langdonstrash @isoldedax @fckinsupreme @hisgirlwonder @venusxxlangdon @obsessivenostalgicbaby @noelle525 @kleinegamerin @lambofcairo @kiiteiru @littledemondani @beriveri @dcvilrising @grossgayartist @featherpool-852 @discocalico @cryptid-coalition @nu-tt @diamcndscarred @chocolateandhorror @michaelsfrenchtoast @ms-mead @sarcasticbxtch20 @ringpop-poppy @coollangdon @s7venwonders @imjustasadhoe @melodylangdon @bahsasblog @codycrazy @sojournmichael @perfect-ginger-maniac @baphomet-wears-gucci @bigstudentpatrolbonk @langdonsgothgf @jazzcowgirl @a-n-t-s @blind-daydream @langdonsblood @ritualmichael @myluciferiscody @fentycoven @gracebtw @bongwaternation @fckinsupreme @thewalkingtrenchcoats @king-of-mischief-and-bitchez @hoseokchild @witchywcmans @satanicbimbo @mallorys-winter @langdonskillerqueen @anantarora @aradevil @anemia-doll @muralskins @funtomimagines @mrssgtjamesbuckybarnes @our-mrlangdon @lotsofhunny @sevenwonderwitch @horrorstreet @kpopmademedo-it @naughtygranger @codyshands @krazycags01 @skullag

*if you asked to be tagged but aren’t on my tag list, i apologize!!! some blogs just can’t be tagged for some reason :(

You looked out the window and onto the rain-slick city streets, captivated by the way the rows of glowing neon signs reflected in the puddles, and you smiled.

Everything was as it should be.

Sandwiched between your two best friends in the back of the Uber, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride at the thought that you’d made it. You’d graduated college, managed to land your dream job, and, most recently, you’d finally been able to get yourself a spacious apartment in the city you loved most. It was the first time in your life that you’d ever felt truly in control of things.

Tonight was a celebration of those accomplishments; you and your friends had arranged to go to the bars by your new apartment that night and get shitfaced like you were college freshmen again, just enjoying each other’s company. You could already feel the warmth of the shots of Fireball you’d pregamed with earlier that night, cheeks flushed and rosy. Life was good.

The Uber screeched to a halt in front of the bar, your friends’ resulting drunken squeals drowning out the rap song that drifted loudly through the speakers. You grinned, waving a quick goodbye to the bored-looking driver before dispensing onto the street with your group, one by one.

Through the glass windows, you saw a lively scene; it seemed as though you’d chosen the perfect night to go out. The bar was dim, lit with overhead lights that shifted from color to color, a band stationed at the stage in full action. People danced, drank, sang; you could see couples making out sloppily in booths. This was going to be a fun night.

Outside the bar stood two skinny boys, dressed casually in ripped jeans and band t-shirts, who you were nearly certain were underage. They chatted as they smoked cigarettes, seemingly unfazed by the chilly breeze and light drizzle coming down over their mops of overgrown hair. One of them, the lighter-haired one of the pair, almost reminded you of…

“Hey ladies,” said one, blowing cigarette smoke from the corner of his mouth with a smirk. You could feel his alcohol-glossed eyes travel up and down your body, drinking in your fishnet-clad legs and prominent curves, accentuated in a maroon leather miniskirt. “You trying to have some fun?”

At this, you and your friends erupted into giggles, long fingernails gripping at each other’s forearms as you fought to balance yourselves.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” your friend said, resulting in a fresh wave of laughter.

Ignoring the boys’ scowls, you continued inside, sighing in relief at the warmth, which was only reinstated by the slew of sweaty bodies flowing throughout the building. The music was loud- perhaps not the most accurate in terms of pitch, but it was certainly good enough to dance to, and, luckily, you were in a dancing mood.

“You shoulda gave them your number,” your friend joked as you made your way to the bar, her voice raised so you could hear her above the noise. “When’s the last time you’ve gotten laid?”

You rolled your eyes. Ever since you’d broken up with your ex a year before, your friends had been nagging you to engage in causal hookups to help you get over him- they’d tried setting you up with any single man they could get their hands on, and had even gone as far as creating a Tinder page in your name. In all honesty, you had no interest in men at the moment; you were far more focused on your career, which was your top priority for now. Sure, you got horny sometimes, but wasn’t that what vibrators were made for? You were twenty-two. You had your whole life ahead of you to find some good dick.

Besides, most men you’d been with in the past could hardly satisfy you, so it seemed almost better to do things on your own. The only man you’d ever actually enjoyed being with was…

You flinched, pained by your second reminder of a certain blond-haired fuckboy that night. Even now, nearly five years since the last time you’d seen him, it hurt to think of his name.

“Three Sex on the Beaches, please,” your friend said to the bartender, before turning back to look at you. “Sounds like something you’re in need of.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, drumming your fingers on the wooden surface as you turned to watch the band, which seemed to be some kind of punk-pop-rock hybrid, the members decked in leather and chains.

“You know I’m right,” your friend shouted, running her manicured fingernails through her hair as she craned her neck to look at the bartender over her shoulder. “Hey, the bartender’s pretty cute. And he even kind of seems like your type.”

You glanced back disinterestedly, hardly breaking your attention from the band to look at the man in question. Right now his back was to you, and he appeared to be talking to some drunk girls as he fixed your drinks; his blond hair was slightly outgrown, fraying out in unkempt curls at the base of his neck, toned bicep flexing under the thin shield of his form-fitting white t-shirt as he reached for a bottle of peach schnapps.

From what you could see, he did seem like your type- almost too much so, it almost starting to creep you out how similar this guy looked to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You looked away.

“Oh yeah, he is cute,” your other friend said, leaning her elbows back on the bar. “(Y/n), you should pull some moves on him.”

You groaned. “Why are you guys so obsessed with getting me fucked?”

“Because, (y/n). You’re gonna get cobwebs down there if you don’t get your shit clapped soon. Eventually you’re just gonna forget how to fuck altogether,” your friend said, her voice earnest.

“Yeah,” agreed your other friend. “Your vag is gonna close up like a pierced ear when you forget to put in earrings for too long.”

“Three sex on the beaches?” came an amused-sounding voice from behind you, and within the first few syllables of the man’s sentence, you could feel your throat start to close up. You knew that voice anywhere, raspy and rich and warm, even five years since you’d last heard it. But… how? Michael was in California. It had to be some kind of doppleganger working behind the bar. But damn, that was uncanny…

You were almost afraid to turn around, doing so reluctantly, too nervous to care about the fact that you were gnawing all your vampy lipstick off your bottom lip.

“Yeah, that’s ours,” said your friend brightly, accepting her glass, and you decided to rip the band-aid off, forcing your body to turn all the way around.

“So you ladies like sex on the be- (Y/N)?”

Holy ever loving mother of christ. It was him. It was actually. Fucking. Him.

There behind the bar, with plump lips agape and saucer-wide baby-blue eyes, was Michael Langdon, looking almost exactly the same as you remembered. Now, though, most of the baby fat had gone from his face, with one silver earring dangling from his left ear and stubble shadowing his even-more-defined (if that was even possible) jawline. Your mouth went dry, opening and closing as you racked your brain for something to say, heart racing so quickly in your chest you thought you might drop dead at any moment.

“You guys know each other?” your friend asked after several seconds of silence, stretching past you to exchange a glance with your other friend, an immaculately-drawn eyebrow poised in concern.

“Uh- yeah. We, um. Michael, why are you here?” The words didn’t come out exactly the way you’d planned for them to, but his presence had you tongue-tied. In a matter of seconds, you felt like you were eighteen again, broken-hearted and in love and overflowing with red-hot hormones all at once.

“I- (y/n), why are you here?” You could tell that Michael’s lips were beginning to creep into a smirk, and your stomach dipped.

“I just moved to the city,” you said, gripping the edge of the bar and breathing slowly to try and calm yourself. You’d fantasized about finding yourself in this very situation so many sleepless nights before (not that you’d ever admit it), but never had you really expected for something like this to happen. This had to be some sort of profound universe-aligning moment of fate or something, because this was all way too fucking weird to be a coincidence. “I got a job near here. I thought you were in California?”

Michael shook his head with a shrug, sliding your drink across the bar towards you as your friends watched on with quiet fascination. “Haven’t lived there since- damn, has it been three years now? Yeah, I kind of dropped out of college.”

Not really surprising, you thought, relaxing a bit as you lifted your drink to your lips. Michael never had really struck you as a college type.

“So how’d you end up here?” you asked through a wince. The taste of vodka was strong on your tongue even despite the compensating ingredients of your drink, and you still hadn’t managed to get used to the taste of hard liquor even after four years of college.

“Well, I ended up meeting this girl at a party and we became like, boyfriend and girlfriend or whatever,” he said with a half eye-roll, as if he was too cool to admit to something as sensitive as being in a relationship. “But she was in college and I was like, in a band, which didn’t really end up working out, and then she graduated and got a job offer here in the city.”

You licked your lips, picturing Michael as the front man of a rock band, pushing sweaty strands of blond hair back from his forehead as he gripped a microphone with one calloused hand. If only he’d had the talent to match with the look.

“So I was still living with my mom and I needed an excuse to move out, so… I moved with her.” He gave a nonchalant shrug, shirt pulling up slightly at the hem and exposing a sliver of his smooth, firm torso; you were almost ashamed that your mouth began to water.

You tried to ignore the inkling of- jealousy, was it? No, not jealousy, that word was far too harsh for what you were feeling- surrounding the idea that Michael had moved here for a girl, and you went to wash it away with another sip of alcohol. It’d been years. You needed to get over yourself.

“So you live with her now?” you asked coolly, or as coolly as you could manage, looking down into the muddy-organgey abyss of your Sex on the Beach. Your friends, having apparently picked up on the fact that you were in the middle of a very important conversation with a very important person, had taken it upon themselves to join the small crowd surrounding the stage, leaving the two of you alone.

“Fuck no. She ended up fucking my best friend. But I already had this job and I liked the scenery so I stuck around. Wasn’t like there was anything better waiting for me in California.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Now you know how I felt when you fucked (b/f/n).”

“Oh come on, give me a break. I was eighteen. And she had great tits.” He was leaning forward on his elbow now, resting his chin in the palm of his hand and grinning at you. “Admit it. You were just mad ‘cause you wanted to be the one to get the pipe.”

You snorted, trying not to think too deep into the warm, fuzzy feeling that was starting to flourish in the pit of your stomach and travel up towards your fluttering heart. “Oh, please. I used to fucking hate you.”

“Yeah, but you definitely didn’t hate fucking me,” he said with a wink, pink tongue darting out to wet his full bottom lip. “Though I definitely don’t blame you. I was a huge fuckboy.”

“Was?” you joked, taking another sip. Your eyes fell to a small tattoo on his inner forearm- a simple four-leafed clover, which you secretly thought looked sexy on him.

“Still got that smart mouth, I see,” Michael said, pale eyes glinting with a familiar mischievousness that you hadn’t realized you’d missed until right then. “There must be a lucky guy on the receiving end of all that attitude.”

“Nope,” you said flatly, flipping your hair over your shoulder and leaning forward, perhaps subconsciously hoping for your cleavage to become a bit more pronounced. “Men bore me these days.”

“Men? Or just all men who aren’t me?” He flashed you a devious sideways grin, and your mouth fell open at his boldness. “You’re looking pretty good tonight, baby sis.”

“Hmm. I don’t think that title is quite accurate anymore,” you retorted, hoping he couldn’t tell how flustered his usage of the old pet name had gotten you- apparently he still had that particular talent intact. “But you don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Yeah?” He glanced down at his shirt, which you only just now noticed was stained with some kind of brown liquor. “Not exactly the kind of thing you’d want to be wearing when running into your first love.”

Your heart stirred in your chest, and you could see Michael’s cool smile fade into a panicked wince. First love. You were Michael’s first love.

“First love, huh?” you said softly, tilting your head to one side to regard all of Michael’s handsome features at once. There’d always been some semblance of hope, deep in your belly, that Michael’s feelings for you all those years ago had surpassed simple lust and teenage hormones, but you’d of course had your doubts.

“Well, I mean. Not love, but like. You know.” Michael lifted one hand to scratch the back of his neck, and you could almost swear you saw a dusting of pink cross his porcelain cheeks. “Actually, I mean, yeah. You kind of were my first love. Kinda fucked up that my first love was my stepsister, but…”

“Well, you were my first love too. Unfortunately. You put me through hell, you know that?” You were only half-joking, idly twirling a strand of (h/c) hair around your finger, shifting your weight onto one leg to jut out your hip.

“God, yeah. I know. I suck.” He shook his head, loose waves falling to obscure his hooded eyes, and quickly he tucked it back behind his ears. “I really am sorry, you know.”

You shrugged. “We were just stupid, horny teenagers. It’s all good.”

“Yeah, I mean, but I never really stopped feeling guilty about the way I treated you. You gave me so many chances that I never deserved,” he said, leaning in close so he didn’t have to scream for you to hear him. “You were the perfect girl for me and I took you for granted.”

“Well, like I said…” you paused to take a swig of your drink, nursing your light intoxication, which had affected you to the point where the flavor of alcohol no longer made you cringe. “We were stupid teenagers. And I was very stupid to keep taking you back. Especially after that god awful Applebee’s date.”

He laughed, and your insides warmed at the sound, a light giggle that you only ever reserved for crushes unintentionally passing your lips. Why did this all feel so right?

“Look, I was broke, okay?” He moved in a little closer, crystal blue eyes locked with yours, and for a fleeting moment you thought- or, rather, hoped- that maybe he’d kiss you. Of course, you knew that such a prospect was only wishful thinking, but still you felt a sting of disappointment when he didn’t. “But I can promise you that if I took you out now, it wouldn’t be to Applebee’s.”

You took a second to respond, your clouded mind trying to figure whether or not that’d just been a proposition of sorts. Fuck it. “You might just have to prove that to me.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiled, this time a little softer than his usual devilish smirk. “A girl like you really wants some loser bartender to take her out?”

You cocked your head. “A girl like me?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, look at you.” He sighed, dragging his gaze up and down your body, which you had to admit looked pretty bangin’ in the outfit you’d chosen for tonight. “I mean, it goes without saying that you’re a fuckin’ ten. But you’re also smart. And successful.”

“How do you know I’m successful?” There was a tiny part of you that was eating this up, having the once-big-and-bad Michael Langdon practically crawl at your feet. “I never even told you what I do for a living.”

“I just assumed, since you said you just moved here, and we both know this city ain’t cheap. But I always knew you’d be successful. I mean, you’ve always known how to go after what you want.” he said. “Plus that outfit looks expensive as hell.”

At this, you struck a dramatic pose, having drank enough that you didn’t really care about making yourself look stupid. “Well, I wouldn’t say it was expensive as hell, but it definitely was worth a few paychecks.”

Michael clicked his tongue but chuckled, a longing expression apparent on his sculpted face. “You’re out of my league.”

You scoffed, slurping up the last of your drink. “I don’t believe in leagues. I mean, I pulled you when we were in high school, didn’t I?”

“You were out of my league then, too.”

“Oh, please.” Such a statement was enough to make you laugh out loud, perhaps a bit too loudly, but you thought that might’ve been propelled by the fact that you were pretty damn drunk now. You shoved the now-empty glass towards Michael, settling your hands on your hips. “You were like, the hottest guy in school.”

He raised a brow, a cocky half-smile stretching across his lips. “Oh yeah?”

You hiccuped (you always had been a lightweight). “Duh.”

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, picking up your glass and bringing it off to the side to be cleaned. When he returned, he was brandishing a bottle of Windex and a stained washcloth, which was draped effortlessly over one broad shoulder. For a reason that could not, for the life of you, be explained, this view of Michael compelled you to squeeze your thighs together.

“You know,” said Michael slowly, spraying the wooden surface of the bar with chemical blue, “it’s kind of creeping me out how weird this all is. Like, us both ending up here. After five years.”

“I know, right?” Your eyes fell onto Michael’s veined hand, gripping the cloth that was now being used to rub down the bar, and you fought back the sudden urge to run your fingers over it. “I mean, it’s like, everything is aligning so perfectly. It has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

“Didn’t we say that to each other? That night on the beach right before our parents split? That if things were meant to work out, they would one day.” He sucked his lips into his mouth, taking in a sharp inhale and letting his head fall back towards the ceiling.

“It’s like everything’s finally fallen into place.” You breathed, allowing the amalgamated scent of liquor and cigarettes and cleaning chemicals to consume you, hips swaying back and forth to the mellow cover song the band was playing, imperfect but beautiful. “We’d be stupid not to try things again.”

“We would, wouldn’t we?” Michael said, tossing the rag off to the side once he’d finished his cleaning, the surface of the bar now so shiny you could practically see your reflection in it. “I promise this time, if you really want to give me a second chance, I won’t fuck things up. I’ll treat you how you should’ve always been treated.”

There was something about the look in his eyes that made you believe him.

From the crowd by the stage came a chorus of voices, most off-key, as they began to sing along to the band’s cover song, which you were certain you’d heard before, but couldn’t quite place when.

And all that is now

“Hey, I love this song,” Michael said suddenly, as if it hadn’t just been playing for the last several minutes, “fuck, this brings me back to high school.”

You wondered if he still chewed cinnamon gum, remembering the sweet spicy scent of his hot breath on your throat, late at night in the back of his cluttered sports car, the dashboard lights illuminating your half-dressed bodies. You wondered if he still played video games with those ridiculous oversize headphones, if he still liked to take midday naps, if he still fell asleep to South Park reruns.

Most of all, though, you wondered about the things you’d never witnessed, all the things you’d missed over the past five years.

And all that is gone

“Do you still chew cinnamon gum?” you asked abruptly, too drunk to worry about whether or not such a question was weird to ask.

He wiggled his eyebrows, reaching into the back pocket of his torn black skinny jeans (god, he’d always looked so good in those) to retrieve a crushed pack of gum, CINNAMON printed in red lettering across the front.

“Hell yeah,” he said, pulling out a piece and tossing it to you. “That shit beats mint by far.”

You unwrapped the gum and popped it in your mouth, immediately flooded with memories the moment you began working into it with your back teeth.

And all that’s to come

He reached out to flip the foil wrapper over, smoothing out its creases before grabbing a black pen from next to the register. You watched through your dreamlike haze as he jotted down a series of numbers in crooked, loopy handwriting, his tongue poking from the corner of his mouth in concentration. Underneath the phone number he wrote something else, in bold capitals, turning the paper around and sliding it towards you with a wry grin.

666-425-0493

LET’S TRY THIS AGAIN

You took the paper, folding it up and shoving it deep into your skirt pocket, inadvertently sinking your teeth into your lower lip. “Maybe I’ll call you sometime, big bro.”

For a fraction of a second, he landed a glance on your chest, lips twitching upwards just slightly at the corners. “Oh, I’ll be posted up until you do.”

“How about another Sex on the Beach?” you said, even though you were drunk enough on Michael’s presence as it was; it felt like you were floating in the blackness of outer space all while rolling with the soft, turning waves of the ocean, and you couldn’t help but want to feel this way forever.

And everything under the sun is in tune

“Coming right up, ma’am,” came Michael’s teasing reply, making you squirm; your eyes fell shut as you allowed the band’s blaring drum and bass to swallow you whole, swaying aimlessly to the rhythm, your head lolling back and forth.

The music was loud enough to drown out your thoughts, and the sound only increased as the song came to its powerful end, your teeth chattering with adrenaline as an electric chill made its way up your spine.

But the sun is eclipsed by the moon

When you opened your eyes, Michael was back in front of you, and all but the colorful overhead lights had dimmed; the entire bar was potent with color, Michael’s angular features appearing so much softer now, cast with bright purple, then blue, then a shade of pink so vivid it looked almost otherworldly.

Your eyes connected with his for what must’ve been the thousandth time in all the months you’d known him, but you felt, deep in your bones, that this was really only the first.

You had a good feeling about this.

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon smut #cody fern #american horror stoy #ahs apocalypse #apocalypse #high school au #ahs smut #ahs fanfic #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon fanfic #ahs fanfiction #mine

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jasminau · 4 years

Text

Patient 0801

Ledger!Joker

@ezziesworld @ridiculousnerd

this is honestly just word vomit. i haven’t written anything creative in like a month so i needed to do smth lmao. there’s no plot or purpose i just wanted to practise his voice.

details: 1k words, post-tdk, joker arriving at arkham

read on ao3

The clothes are rough, scratchy against his skin. He keeps playing with the hem, needing to do something with his hands as he tries to suppress all of this energy inside him. It feels a little odd with his nails cut down, he can’t even remember the last time he had cut them himself, but apparently it was a little precaution for any potential future events after he got a few swipes in, though the dried blood at his fingertips only adds to this particular giddiness he was feeling.

That’s right, he felt giddy. So happy he could bounce off the walls.

His plan had gone perfectly in a way he didn’t even anticipate. Everything had fallen into its designated place, coupled with a few drums of gas, some bullets, and sprinkled with a little — a lot — of chaos and violà! The whole city finds out the truth about its soul. And better yet, Batman had done a little orchestrating himself.

And the look on his face when he found out Harvey Dent was Joker’s ace in the hole was enough to send him into a spiral of manic glee. He just couldn’t stop laughing, not when the SWAT team had dislodged Batman’s fancy little grapple gun from his foot — he was sure that’d get infected soon —, or after they had thrown him into the back of a SWAT van, or even when they had wheeled him into the famed Arkham Asylum. In fact, he was still giggling to himself now. His cheeks were starting to hurt, lips cracking from the constant laughter.

This one pudgy doctor didn’t look very appreciative of that, — well, none of them did — but this one was particularly unimpressed. At least, Joker thought that was the expression the doctor was going for. He couldn’t really tell. Y’see, the doctor was sweating bullets that soaked the collar of his button-up shirt, and his face was about as red as half of Harvey Dent’s face — hah. Not to mention, he nearly passed out right on the spot when Joker pretended to lunge at him. The restraints on the chair made it hard to move even a little bit, and the sudden movement resulted in getting tazed by 3 of the guards, but seeing the look on the doctor's face and the high-pitched squeal that left that pudgy mouth was worth it.

All of it was worth it. The Joker never really had any regrets, didn’t need to, but Gotham’s descent into pure chaos was his most prized achievement yet. Even all those vials of sedatives, or whatever they had injected him with couldn’t keep this high away from him. It had attached to his bones, fed into his muscles and he couldn’t tell if he was twitching in excitement or if it was just the residual effects from the delightful shocks of electricity. Though tasing him wasn’t the only thing they had done to him. Unfortunately, while they were hosing him down, they had cranked the temperature close to boiling. Now, he wasn’t afraid of pain. He liked it, a lot. But burns wasn’t in his list of favourites — nope, not at all —, his skin felt like hot coal, it tingled in a way he couldn’t find any pleasure in. What he could find pleasure in was beatings, and they had done plenty of that. He thinks his cackling displeased them a little, especially when they found he was getting more hysterical with every kick and punch, so much so that they made sure he was nearly choking on his own blood.

Well, he was choking on his own blood. Must have a broken rib, too.

But after all of this, he couldn’t even get mad, couldn’t even feel a slither of anger. The dark walls that caged him were painted with the events of the last week, deafening silence filled with sounds of screams, terror, gunfire, and explosions and he could still smell all the gasoline. It made him happy.

And so he sat in this dark, cold room — certainly not by choice —, playing with the hem of these cute pajamas with blood-dried fingertips. Pajamas that were bright orange and had a little sticker that said ‘PATIENT 0801’.

Custom-made just for him.

He couldn’t help but let it hit him right in his ego. Sure, it was scratchy and chafed against his burns in a way that was just… uncomfortable, but these doctors knew exactly how to make ol’ Joker feel special.

Provided, he had to show them how special he was in the beginning, that he wasn’t just some low-life criminal looking to bathe in money like the rest of them. No, he was what Gotham needed. A catalyst to show them all who they really were, what they were all so desperate to hide. And he got there—

Look at how well Harvey Dent turned out.

—he just knew it might take a little more… encouragement to get Gotham exactly where he wants them.

Call it an encouragement to get out of here as well.

But this place would provide ample time to make a few detailed plans. He just had to make his limbs work better first, though he was too caught up on the pure ecstasy of the week's events to even think about how he’d get out of here. Of course, he wouldn’t forget about the already-forming plans on how he’d pay respects to all the doctors, nurses, and guards who’d stuck needles in him, wiped the makeup from his face or even looked in his general direction. He kept all their faces running like a slideshow in the back of his head, but he left the main event dialed up to ten that made it feel like he was at the theatre.

He was enjoying the show, too, and didn’t think his plans could’ve played out better if he tried. Everything had fallen into place. But the most entertaining, the elements that made his job so enjoyable were the things he wasn’t expecting. Batman made sure of that. And the Bat had proven they were meant for each other. Polar opposites fighting a battle for Gotham’s soul, and as much as Batman wanted to win, as determined as he was to keep Gotham from itself, the Joker had won.

Nevermind that he was stuck in Arkham, he had planted the seed and now he’d watch it bloom. Even if he didn’t get front row seats. He was the puppeteer, not the audience, not anymore.

#fic #ledger joker #ledger!joker #yeah this is a little bad and shows how bad i am at staying on one line of thought but dont blame me lmao #my fic

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ticklishpeter · 4 years

Note

do you think you can do some headcanons on the siblings top funniest or most adorable reactions when being tickled?

luther snorts SO much omg and he kicks like crazy!!!! it’s just rly funny to see bc he’s like a big ol t-rex??? he usually just,, cannot reach his most tickly spots (legs n feet) when theyre getting attacked so he just is kinda waving his arms and flailing his head off tbh lmao

a few times,,, when someone gets into diego’s belly button, he’ll start out w these precious lil giggle squeaks,,, BUT they stay in for too long, he will SCREAM like a serious, honest to god scream and he’ll go “GET THE HELL OUT” and he will just,,, keep screaming like i think someone nearby has probably called the police bc they thought somebody was getting murdered fkjdh,, and he’s also nearly broken allison’s nose bc she was teasing him too much and he could NOT take it

on the topic of screaming and violence, five kicks everything in sight and has just,,, such a high pitched and loud initial screech and then he’ll like,,, blush at himself for making such a noise???

allison scrunches up her shoulders n squeezes her arms to her sides and it’s so so precious bc she like,, squeals too but her laugh is so sweet and happy uwu

one time klaus,,, HURT himself bc he arched his back too much when ben squeezed his hips from behind in juuuust the most deadly way. like he had to lay down for awhile and ben laughed at him lowkey fbhjdk

and when klaus got ben back, he tickled him for so long and so ruthlessly that one of ben’s tentacles came out and slapped klaus across the face LMAO

vanya gigglesnorts ALL THE TIME. like she snorts so SO SO MUCH like,, way more than luther

#sdbh sorry this took so long!!!!#Anonymous

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chrysalispen · 4 years

Text

a very rough bit of sappiness from a WIP i have on the back burner, just so y’all know i’m not dead LMAO

====

Standing frozen before her bedchamber door all but vibrating with anxiety, trying not to grab handfuls of the Doman dressing robe that had been a nameday gift to herself last year, Aurelia found herself wondering what in all the seven hells she was thinking.

While still a student at the Valetudinarium she had attended a bridal shower for a young woman whose mother had been a friend of her aunt's. The majority of the gifts bestowed upon the bride had been of the practical variety, but she recalled in particular one carefully wrapped box passed amidst the flurry of gifts and foods and the nigh-unending flow of Dalmascan merlot. It had come with a knowing wink and a "to be shared with your husband."

That message had been as cryptic to her as an Allagan hieroglyphic, until the moment the box’s lid had been removed and a chorus of piercing shrieks had erupted in scandalized delight at its contents: a sheer lacy black corset and a matching scrap of fabric that barely qualified as smallclothes.

A maid of seventeen winters not long in the capitol, she had never seen its like before. Her shocked reaction had prompted a fresh wave of laughter and not a few mutters about "rustic sensibilities" as the giggling bride placed the box on the hearth along with the piles of other gifts. She still recalled her own wide-eyed stare and the embarrassed heat in her cheeks, as she'd caught sight of both in the reflection of the mantelpiece mirror.

Over ten years later, peering into a hallway mirror to view the results of painstaking preparation, she felt the same distressing sense of acute self-consciousness. This set covered far more skin than that remembered bridal gift, but the delicate-looking straps of the garter belt supporting her thigh-high silk stockings somehow seemed every bit as salacious as that bare scrap of cloth. They peeked slyly beneath the hem of her robe like a half-revealed secret, no matter how snugly she wrapped it about herself for some semblance of modesty.

She was, if she were entirely honest, about two seconds away from hiding in her closet for the rest of the night.

Oh, for the gods' swiving sake, Laskaris, you can face a bleeding legatus on the battlefield but you can't be seen in some frivolous Thavnarian frippery? Gird your loins - with that ridiculous robe if it please you - and get on with it.

Unclenching her fists, Aurelia quickly opened the door- and paused, lingering small and shy and hesitant at the threshold. Nero still sat in her chair at the writing desk where she kept her journals, awaiting her return. His normally straight and exacting posture was a relaxed forward slouch, the laces of his fine shirt loose and open, chin braced upon his knuckles and his elbow upon the desk's well-worn surface.

She could follow that characteristically hawkish gaze of his through the gap in the gauzy curtains of her bedroom window to their idle contemplation of the night sky beyond, if she cared to do so. She might have done in truth, were she not so charmed by the look of him in the moonlight, strangely serene and for once quite untroubled by the workings of the world.

A peasant's face, her aunt would have sniffed: its features were what the aristocratic sensibilities of the capitol would call ‘coarse.’ Broad and strong and quite often haggard- although as he sat lost in whatever thoughts held his attention in that moment, the angles and lines of his face were nearly smooth, and the watery light lent an almost dreamlike cast to high cheekbones and strong nose and square jaw. Even his ever-present shadow of a beard seemed lovely to her eyes. It gleamed in soft shades of aurum and auburn upon alabaster, deliberate suggestions of a painter's sponge upon a canvas.

No matter the time of day, it was a face she privately loved to look upon, especially when he seemed to be happy- or, at the very least, content. She wasn’t all that certain she had ever seen him genuinely happy, and the thought was both saddening and sobering.

But, she thought, it was accurate. Nero was possessed of a quick mind, a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue. He was also an intensely private man - as secretive about his true self as he was his personal junkets - and so unguarded instances like this one were so few and far between that she had learned to appreciate them. He’d notice her silent perusal quickly enough, of course; he would let fly some witticism or other and she would respond in kind. This soft window would fall shut before her eyes like all the others and perhaps it might resurface at some later date and perhaps it would not.

It was all very predictable- and probably, Aurelia thought, also for the best. She feared these moments as much as she cherished them, for she was always afforded the briefest glimpses of a man she knew it would be possible to love were he ever to allow it.

And were you ever possessed of sufficient courage to wish for it.

--but tonight was not the night for such somber considerations. She had made a promise, one she intended to keep.

The sound of the falling latch at her back wrested his attention away from the window, and the moon's spell was broken.

Even so, he nearly returned to his quiet contemplation for all of a brace of seconds before her sigh caused him to snap sharply upright in his seat, startling at her presence in a double take that might have been comical were the entire situation not so nerve-wracking.

She offered an uncertain smile, arms still folded over her chest. "Did I interrupt?"

"Not at all. You were on that call for quite some time." She didn't have to see his smirk to know it was there; she heard it in the teasing note of his voice. He was humoring her, knew she was dancing around some subject or other, simply wasn't sure what or why. "I was half-minded to send a search party."

She was very aware of the thin silk of her robe's hem whispering against flesh, perhaps an ilm or two higher than the lacy tops of the hosiery. The straps on her thighs and the metal clasps that braced her stockings would be visible the moment she stepped into the golden corona of light cast upon the floor by her lamp.

Anxiety nearly overwhelmed her again and she froze in place, uncertain how to proceed.

"I-..." Her mouth felt as dry as the dunes of the Sagolii. "Yes, I suppose I was. I..."

She made her slow approach on near-silent feet, hands clutching at her silk: staring at the floor, at the window, at the wall, anywhere but his face. Above all, she was afraid to see the sardonic amusement that must surely be writ large in his eyes. She knew she could not possibly be the least bit enticing, stammering and sweating mess that she was. She didn't need the reminder.

She drew up short when her shin struck the lip of the chair.

He'd shifted his knees, spreading them apart to allow her space. One of his hands settled over one of her white-knuckled fists where it grasped a handful of silk and curled so tightly into the weave that her fingernails had distended the fabric (a distant part of her mind fretted over it; she'd probably ruined the godsdamned thing).

"....I had something to give you," she began. With a deft touch his fingers wound into the curl of her grip as if it were a piece of malfunctioning machinery and gently divested it of the silk she'd clutched. "It's... it's a surprise, so..."

"Not the robe, I assume."

There it was again, that smile in his voice, the one that put her in mind of a cat playing with a mouse it had caught. She paused, an idea blossoming to life in the back of her mind.

"No, not the robe. It's- actually, can I borrow your hands for a moment-... oh hells." She'd caught the unintentional innuendo a moment too late to take it back, and as if on cue, she saw the white flash of that toothy grin in the heartbeat before Nero began to cackle. "Damn it, no! I meant-"

He was openly laughing now. His hands had dropped to brace her hips, squeezing affectionately through thin silk.

Aurelia was so annoyed at her own clumsiness that she quite forgot her anxiety, and released a loud and irritable sigh, her posture drooping with disappointment like a wilting flower. "This was not my intention, I shall have you know."

"I am quite aware. Were you attempting to seduce me? Gods know I'm flattered, I'm just trying to figure out why the deuce you're acting like a bride on her wedding night." Playfully he tugged at the now quite rumbled panel over one of her breasts. "Are you naked under there or are you hiding contraband? Is that it? Diamonds? The imperial crown? A very small basket of coeurl kittens?"

Hells below, now she was laughing, hard enough to make her legs wobble. The whole mishap was too bloody ridiculous not to find humor in it.

"I'll keep guessing if you don't tell me," he warned. She swatted at his fingers, tried to scowl, ruined the effect by shrieking with laughter when he began to tickle her sides. "Is this some sort of extremely specific roleplay? Am I meant to be punishing you for a smuggling infraction-"

"Smuggling infraction," she chortled, gasping with laughter, "Scaeva, you pillock-"

"Oh, Tribunus, I've been a very naughty girl," he trilled, "perhaps if you would let me go I might show you the kitten in my pocket-"

She took the opportunity to attack his sides, cackled when he yelped and tried to grab her wrists. They mock-wrestled for a handful of moments, until her legs gave out beneath the force of her own mirth. Nero caught her as she pitched forward and buried her face against his chest, howling with the absurdity of it all.

It felt good, cathartic even, and all her low-level terror vanished.

Mutual accord came about when each abandoned their efforts in turn. Aurelia sat upright to see the other Garlean smiling at her, his hair already tousled, still chuckling.

"Contraband," she scoffed aloud. "Honestly, this robe barely covers my arse let alone aught of substance."

Put at her ease and amused by the night's misadventure despite herself, Aurelia paid little heed to the fact of her modest weight seated astride his long legs- until the friction of warm, rough palms skimming over the tops of her stockings served as a sudden reminder. The lower hem of her robe had slipped out of place during their tussle; the Doman silk sat bunched nearly at her waist, leaving her thighs exposed to his perusal.

Deft fingers continued their lazy exploration, pausing just long enough to catch in the garter belt's suspenders and give each ribbon a cheeky little tug, until their owner was bestowed with two generous handfuls of backside, neatly wrapped in soft lace and satin.

He gave a slow and experimental squeeze, and any retort she might have made died upon her lips before it could form.

"Contraband," the one-word observation was delivered with such a deadpan blandness that it would have been simplicity itself to miss the avaricious gleam in his eyes. His smile had turned from playful to wickedly speculative.

A soft laugh, this one ever so slightly tremulous, spilled forth from her throat - not nervousness, but anticipation.

His hands gave her rear another squeeze before retreating: calloused fingers tracing patterns in the lace and dragging against plush smoothness, coming to rest upon the tops of her thighs. She could hear her heart hammering in her ears. His eyes were the color of a clear Coerthan sky, wintry and bright.

"May I?" He leaned forward until he was close enough to rest his head against hers, the soft heat of his breath whispering against her cheekbone. She could feel the slight indent in her skin: his third eye pressed carefully against the smooth ridge of her brow. It was a gesture as intimate as any kiss. At length, she was able to whisper: “I was rather hoping you would.”

#chrysalispen writes #just some sappy shit with idiots in denial

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yukheii · 5 years

Text

off white.

+ pairing :: husband!seokjin + reader

+ genre and warnings :: fluff, wedding au, guk isn’t the token little shit character bc jin took his role for this one

+ notes :: this was partially inspired by a drabble by miss etheralmins/a concept from her blog (what’s new lmao) tumblr still doesn’t have it’s shit together so i can’t link it here rn, but shoot me an ask and i’ll redirect you! also if you wanna read it before you read this (you should), it’s the drabble titled “my wife” under her husband!jeongguk au :’) shoutout to hannah for letting me mooch off of her concepts owo

Honestly, if you had to pick one, you’d have said that Taehyung would be the one to have the most extravagant wedding.

It would be over the top, but classy; extreme with the right amount of humble, just like Taehyung. You could picture it: everything white and gold with a regal tint to every accent, a guest list to rival the Oscars. Fresh flowers from a tiny farm in Daegu, white doves, and a strawberry at the center of everyone’s appetizer plates.

Imagine your surprise when Taehyung was the one to elope in secrecy, and then have a wedding in the backyard of his childhood home, with only his close friends and family two months later. Imagine your surprise when it turned out that Park Jimin was the one to host the wedding that rivaled a ceremony for modern day royalty.

There had to be at least five hundred people at reception—from business men to old high-school friends—and it’d be a stretch to say you could name at least thirty of them outside of your friends. You always knew Jimin and his wife were social butterflies, but never to this extent.

Thus, a good portion of your evening was spend introducing yourself, or rather, listening to Jin amuse himself in introducing the two of you to Jimin’s guests.

When you leave the bar with two flutes of champagne in either hand, you spot Jin talking to his next victim. He’s standing next to Jeongguk, who had only gotten married the month before, and his spouse, talking to a man whose face is unfamiliar to you.

“—and this is my wife,” you hear Jeongguk finish, just as you enter the sphere of the conversation and hand Seokjin his glass. The younger boy wraps a firm arm his partner, the widest, dumbest, lovestruck grin on his face as the last syllables roll off his tongue.

You were sure that there wasn’t a soul in the lower region of the country that didn’t know Jeon Jeongguk had recently gotten married, and that he very much so loved being married to his wife. It’s kind of disgusting. It’s kind of cute.

Seokjin extends his free hand to shake next, the stranger reintroducing himself as Minseok, one of Jimin’s college friends, to the two of you.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Seokjin,” he says. He pulls his hand back with a grin, wrapping it around your waist to mimic Jeongguk’s actions, and gently tugging into his side, “And this is my ex-girlfriend, ______.”

And just as quickly as your in his arms, you’re pulling yourself away, rewarding him with a slap to the chest. “Will you stop introducing me as that,” you hiss—but your chiding is futile. Seokjin is already all smiles and high-pitched laughter that makes his shoulders shakes despite the roll of your eyes.

You shift your glass to your non-dominant hand, extending the other to shake Minseok’s hand yourself, “Hi, I’m ______, his wife.”

“So... you’re married?” Minseok questions, confusion evident as Seokjin giggles away in the background.

“Unfortunately,” you sigh, sipping your drink briefly, “Unlike with Jeongguk’s introduction, you probably wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“Oh come on,” Seokjin interjects, “It’s so much more fun this way.”

“Maybe it was funny the first three years,” you counter, “You know I’m pretty sure Chanyeol really thinks we’re broken up.”

“Well, Yeol’s never been the sharpest pencil in the box,” he grins, “Come on, it’s funny! Look at Minseok’s face!”

“Keep it up and you’ll be introducing me as your ex-wife.”

Seokjin tilts his head to the side, “But... there’s no upgrade from wife?”

“I think she means a divorce, hyung,” Jeongguk whispers.

“Oh,” Seokjin hums. It takes a second before he register’s Jeongguk’s words, and sees you heading towards Yoongi and Hoseok’s table—the table for singles, “Oh! Wait! Baby!”

#bts fake texts #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts wedding au #bts college au #seokjin scenarios #seokjin smut #seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #taehyung smut #yoongi smut

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har-rison-s · 5 years

Text

Love Of My Life

Freddie Mercury x Reader

Request: Also, a Freddie x fem! reader where he proposes to her and sings love of my life? Sorry for so many.

A/N: I have this and another one (or two, idk) with Freddie + LOML. Yes, it's a lovely concept, I love it. A one-shot!!! I'm thinking of changing the way my works look, let me know if it's any different to you if the picture is right before the writing or before the plot and a/n :). You can choose whichever Freddie, I felt more comfortable with Rami's (no pressure, your choice ;)). Hope this meets your standarts, I've only written one proposal before. I also chose a bit different personality for reader this time, hope that's okay. I hope I'll finish this tonight. Lmao, that's something that never happens. Happy reading!

It is eerily and strangely quiet today in Y/N and Freddie's house, considering their location in London, which is Kensington. And the loudness of them both. Perhaps it's only because it's the midst of Sunday and a hot day at that. Britain rarely gets those, so when there is one, everyone leaves town to enjoy the lovely weather. However, Y/N and Freddie are not one of those people and decided to stay home. Actually, it's a perfect day for what Freddie has been thinking of for weeks on end.

Y/N's in the kitchen, right across the piano bed, making something on the stove and singing. Her hair is in braids that are put up in a beautiful but messy—taking that she slept with the hairstyle—braid crown, and there are ribbons here and there. Her bum is covered by pink pyjama shorts and her feet are warmed by her fuzzy socks. She wears one of Freddie's textile shirts with a decorative print, and she likes to think it looks the best on her of all his shirts. But really, she looks perfect in any of his clothes.

Freddie watches her, sitting on the edge of the bed, his chin rested in his hands. It's a Beatles tune she sings, and he recognises it being “I'll Follow The Sun”. Her voice is very high-pitched, reminds him of Roger's chicken squeak voice, but she knows how to sing. She's been singing since she was a kid, and it's a natural, but loved thing for her to do. Anytime and anywhere, she sings what she knows and what she wants. And sometimes Freddie likes to join in.

He hops off their bed and graciously walks over to a small bag he always carries around on tour, in his clothes bag. It lays on a top shelf that Y/N is too short to reach, so it's a good hiding place if anything needs to be hidden or surprised with. Freddie reaches his left arm up, which causes his robe to slide down to his shoulder, and takes the little bag in his hand. It's a beautiful almost-wallet with sewn-on flowers and birds, it's the one Y/N brought him from Spain. It's Freddie's favourite. Inside the bag—as he opens it—lays an even smaller velvet box. It contains a ring that will officially and on paper would unite them both, hopefully, soon enough, as husband and wife.

Freddie's been thinking about where their relationship is going for a while now. He and Y/N have been a couple for three and a half years, but friends with hidden feelings long before then. And it's about time something changes in their relationship. They've moved in together, of course met each other's parents, Y/N's been on tour with the band, been in the public eye at events and parties. They've been official and public for a long time. And he wants to be even closer to her in any possible way. Engagement and marriage seem like the exact thing he has to go for.

Freddie takes out the little box and hides it in his palm, walking over to Y/N. She's making an omelette with cheese and ham and herbs and whatever else she finds suitable. The song she sang has ended and Y/N looks at Freddie over her shoulder. He gives her a smile.

“Would you like to sing a different song?” He suggests and Y/N smiles wide, her eyes growing smaller and her cheeks rounding and becoming rosier.

“With you?” She asks and Freddie nods. She smiles wider and gives him the same response. Freddie walks up to her and stands next to her. Y/N keeps doing what she's doing, waiting for Freddie to start—since it was his idea to sing together seems only fair he starts to sing.

“Love of my life...” Freddie finally starts, and she hears the unfamiliar melody is sung by his shaky voice. Y/N waits for him to sing more, ready to hear the full melody of the new song. It's probably that song which he's been writing recently, sitting at the piano or in the corner of a room or at the kitchen table, scribbling down lyrics and scratching out the ones that don't seem necessary or well-fitting. “You've hurt me.”

Y/N turns off the stove and looks at Freddie, a bit curious, wondering if the song's about her. There's nothing she thinks that she's done to hurt him. A strand of her hair falls off her right ear, where it was resting, and the sun gives her skin a magical glow through her hair. Freddie smiles and looks down, a bit shy from her still. After all this time.

“You've broken my heart,” he continues to sing and Y/N chuckles.

“Oh, have I?” She presses a light hand on her chest, faking shock and it only makes Freddie's smile stretch wider.

“And now you leave me,” he sings on, and then turns to her, resting against the kitchen counter with his side. The box hides between his fingers, and he places it on the counter. Y/N looks down at it and furrows her eyebrows. His hand looks a bit strange, “love of my life,” Freddie leans closer to her, and takes her chin between the fingers of his left hand, which naturally makes Y/N look at him, “can't you see?” He sings and Y/N puts her hands on Freddie's shoulders. “Now this is the part you know very well.” He tells her and she gives him an uncertain nod.

“Bring it back, bring it back,” they both sing and it makes Y/N's heart full, and she giggles once the line finishes. She doesn't know what comes next. Freddie hasn't told her yet. He slowly lifts the hand with the box up to her face and backs away a little so that they'd both have space. The box is opened and Y/N can only guess what's about to happen, “don't take it away from me, because...” Freddie sings, and his voice is no louder than a whisper. Y/N admires his vocal range and skills, he can still sing, even with very little volume, “you don't know,” he pops open the box and she gasps almost immediately, “what it means to me...” Freddie whispers.

Y/N gulps and looks between Freddie and the humongous shining ring in the box and tears appear in her eyes. This must have cost him a fortune. She doesn't know what to say, nothing comes to mind. It's completely blank. Proposal? Engagement? Marriage? YES!

“Will you marry me?” Freddie whispers to her. Y/N nods and lets out a sob. She jumps onto Freddie and he staggers back a bit. Her arms around him feel so tight, and he keeps her up by holding onto her as well, his arms around her waist. The box still in his hand.

“Yes, yes, YES!” She shouts and squeals, and it makes Freddie so, so happy. He's going to marry the most beautiful and unique and understanding woman in the world. There's no one else he could want. Only the love of his life.

Permanent taglist:

@v0idbella @inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs @works-of-fanfiction @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @stfxlou @ur-gunna-h8-ths @one-taylor-one-vision@empressdreams @betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie@deardeacy @fvckyeahbenhardy @thewinchesterchronicles@mavieesttriste16 @mrsmazzello @benhardyseyes @langdonzvoid

Freddie taglist:

@lordofthebutterfliez @bisexuwhale69

If you'd like to be added to any of these, let me know! :)

#freddie mercury #freddie mercury imagine #borhap!freddie mercury #freddie mercury imagines #queen imagine #queen imagines #borhap imagine #borhap imagines #borhap!freddie mercury imagine #borhap!freddie mercury x reader #freddie x reader #freddie mercury x reader #rami malek!freddie mercury #queen request #rami malek!freddie mercury imagine #freddie mercury request

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mintsugacandy · 5 years

Text

Next to you

Pairing- Park Jimin x Reader

Genre- Angst, eventual fluff

Warnings- Quite some negative thoughts in the middle. Oh, and it’s pretty long. Thought that should be a warning too?

A/N- A friend to whom I showed my drafts told me to post this, it’s been there since as long as this blog has been lmao. idk I just don’t feel satisfied with this piece of writing? please tell me how it is!

You had finally reached home. The five hours of overworking nearly killed you. They made the whole situation you were in, worse.

Your mind had lately been engulfed in dark thoughts. You thought those days had slowly faded away since you had started dating Jimin. But if you’ve ever had depression at some point in your life, that doesn’t stop you from being a victim again.

And this was such a wrong time. Jimin was touring. The man who managed to heal most of those scars wasn’t with you. Your fingers itched to speed dial his number and just hear his voice, hear his whining, or his soft giggles. Or how poetic he sounds when he tells you he loves you. But you held yourself back, because a part of your toxic thoughts made you feel like you were too clingy a girlfriend. You don’t want to be a burden on him when he’s miles away, you thought to yourself.

The past week had you reflecting on your past- your broken self from a few months ago, and the start of your relationship with Jimin. And then came the negative thoughts; had Jimin started dating you because he pitied your shattered self? Haven’t you been so dependent on him? Aren’t you always crying about your sorry self to him? Isn’t that so selfish of you? What have you done for him?

You threw your bag on the couch and trudged towards the bedroom. Don’t you think you’re pulling him down? Weighing him down? You opened the bathroom door and leaned on the sink. Isn’t he missing out on so much because of you? You stared at yourself in the mirror for a few moments. Who are you, really? Clearly, you’re way out of his league. Or anyone’s, for that matter. No wonder they all left you. Why don’t you stop trying?

You backed out into the bedroom and slumped against the wall. You were sad, you were frustrated. You knew why, but didn’t, at the same time. The tightness that remained in your throat throughout the day was slowly going, because you finally let it all out.

You began to sob uncontrollably, and your frustration made your hands want to claw at something. That something soon turned out to be your own arms. Your nails left bright red lines along your arms, and they slowly began to burn. Your face ended up with those lines too. Your face was burning, and the tears made it worse.

You bitch, no one’s going to love you! The memory of the last thing your ex said flashed before you. It made the tears come faster. It made you feel small and worthless in this big, big, world.

But at some point, exhaustion took over you and you fell asleep.

You were sitting on the floor with your knees hugging your chest. The place you were was so narrow, that it wasn’t even a room. You couldn’t even spread your arms and legs. But the ceiling was so high that you couldn’t even see it, all you could see was blackness.

You grew restless with suffocation and looked around for an exit.

And then water started to pour over you from the top. You couldn’t even see where it was coming from. But it was slowly filling the small place you were trapped in. When the water level reached your chin, you flailed around to prevent yourself from drowning.

It had reached your eyes now, the water. Your eyes were burning and your lungs ached as they filled with water. You tried to swim to the top, only in vain. Everything around you was sickly grey, the colour of the walls, and it slowly turned black as your vision disappeared...

You woke up in cold sweat, tangled in sheets, gasping for air.

You didn’t realise you were choking on tears till you let out a sob.

And soon, your crying escalated to a point where you couldn’t breathe. You gasped for air but your cries made you feel suffocated.

You don’t know how, but you found yourself dialling Jimin’s number. You couldn’t even think of cutting the call instantly, because he picked it up in a single ring.

“Y/N! I just clicked a picture and was sending it to you!” And then he paused. “Wait. Isn’t it like 2 am there? Why are you awake?” He added. His voice was high-pitched, trying to speak over the noise in the background.

When you didn’t reply, he said, “Y/N..?”

“Jimin” You managed to gasp.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong, baby?”

You tried to say “nothing”, but, you know those times where if you try to speak, you’ll end up crying even more? This moment was the best example.

“N-no...I-” Your voice quivered, but you couldn’t. So you began to cry your breathless ones.

“Oh god, Y/N. Calm down or you won’t be able to breathe!”

“Shhhh. Breathe as I count, okay?” Now his voice was softer, probably because he went to a quieter room.

You tried to take long breaths as he counted slowly. You could hear the tension in his voice and hated to be the one to make him worried for you like this. You really are no good, are you?

Your breaths came out shaky but you felt better.

“I don’t know what made you break down like this... I wish I did. I wish I was there next to you right now... Shit, I feel so useless. Damn this tour and-”

“N-no! It’s not your fault! I just, haven’t been myself lately, that’s all. And I should be sorry! You were probably busy with everything and-”

“All that doesn’t matter when you’re crying so much that you can’t even breathe! I couldn’t care less about practice if it’s anything with you involved.”

“I love you so much, Jiminie. I’ll...try to sleep now? Sorry, again.”

“I swear, Y/N, if you say sorry again-”

“Fine, sorry, sorry!”

“Y/N.” He said in a fake angry voice.

“Okay, well, then, I apologise for that.” You giggled.

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“Can I sing you a song while you try to sleep? Okay wait, that wasn’t a question, I am.”

You always found his voice beautiful. You liked all of his band’s songs, but his voice especially. You’d repeat his parts all the time and never get tired of it.

But in this moment, it sounded so much more beautiful, so much more melodious, and so much more emotional, and you didn’t think that was possible.

You woke up at the sound of your phone ringing. You tried to ignore it at first but it rang again. The screen said BOSS. “Oh shit.” You groaned.

“Um, hello?” Your voice sounded hoarse with all the crying so you were praying that asking for a sick leave would work.

“Y/N, why aren’t you at work yet?”

“Uh, sir...I came down with a fever last night. Is it okay if I stay at home today?”

“Hmm. Fine. But I need you here tomorrow no matter what, okay?” And he cut the call.

You sighed. Well, at least you did something good in the past few days, you thought. Maybe you aren’t as worthless as you thought.

Wow, it hurt to even blink. You really did cry a lot last night. You felt so tired to move that you just lay there for who knows how long, and drifted to sleep again.

You woke up to the sound of the doorbell this time.

Doorbell? Wait, who could it be?

You, in your dishevelled state, somehow managed to make it to the door and opened it without a second thought.

“Jimin” you gasped, this time in surprise. There were tears in your eyes, this time because you were happy.

He ran to hug you so hard you thought you’d be crushed. And then he stepped back to admire you. And then worriedly took your face in his hands. “What’s this? What’re these red marks on your face? Did you fight with someone while I was gone?”

“No...” You faltered. “I think it happened when I was crying yesterday...”

And to your surprise, there were tears in his eyes too. He led you to the couch, made you sit at the edge and kneeled before you. “Now, I need you to tell me what happened.”

“It was nothing.” You said with a sob.

“But you’re crying again.”

“And so are you.” And then you both giggled. But it didn’t last for long.

“Y/N...please. I need to know.” He pleaded softly.

“I don’t know... I’ve just not been myself lately.” You said again, like last night.

“That’s not a valid reason. You know you can’t hide anything from me. Tell me.” And then he took your hands in his. “Or I won’t let go of your hands.” He added.

He took a sharp breath when he saw the scars on your hands.

“Have you...been hurting yourself again? Like before?” He asked. His voice was dangerously soft.

“No! I-I didn’t do it on purpose! It’s just something I can’t control...My hands just... scratch whatever they find...” You trailed off, realising how stupid that sounded.

“Your own arms? Your own face?” He asked, trying to understand where you were coming from. You could only shrug in response.

“You’re having those thoughts again, right? About you being worthless, and selfish, and not good enough, and whatnot?” His fingers made air quotes for worthless, selfish, and good enough.

At that, you couldn’t look at him in the eye.

“Just like the time we started dating. You were like this then, too. I...I thought being with me changed you. That you forgot all those thoughts of yours and moved on. And I guess it was my fault for forgetting about your past.” He said. “But tell me, do you not believe me when I tell you I love you?” He added, a moment later.

You tried to blink the tears away but you couldn’t. You cry so damn much, Y/N.

“It’s just that...I feel like I’m such a bother! I’m tying you down when you should be having the time of your life...and then there’re times where I just keep weeping about my pathetic self to you...I feel like I’m such an attention seeker? I only talk about my problems, and you do everything to cheer me up and ask for nothing in return...It’s no wonder my ex left me, and I’m scared you will, too, and I don’t know what I’ll do then-”

He put his finger to your lips.“Okay, first of all, stop badmouthing my girlfriend. Secondly, he’s your ex and he’s not a part of this discussion. He and I don’t get along even in the same sentence.” You always found it cute how he got worked up over your ex and you couldn’t help but smile this time either.

“Thirdly, I have no clue why you think you’ve never done anything for me. The reason I even feel alive is because you’re in my life. You find my voice beautiful, don’t you? I sing with all I’ve got because you’re all I’ve got.

“And lastly, I won’t ever leave you, Y/N. I knew I wouldn’t, the day our eyes met across the room. Sounds cheesy, but I mean it. And I want you to tell me everything from now on. No holding back.” And then added jokingly, “Because I don’t think I’ll be allowed to come back on such a short notice while I’m on tour, and I need to be convinced that you’ll be fine on your own for a while. How will I sing my best, otherwise?”

And you realised with a start that he wasn’t even supposed to be here.

“Oh my god, why did you even come back?” You asked worriedly.

He put his hand on his heart as if hurt. “Ahh, Y/N, that sentence wounded me. Do you not want me to be here?”

“Of course I do, but I feel like shit for making you ruin your routine on tour.”

He laughed his soft laugh. The one you love. “Nah, it wasn’t such a big issue. We had a two-day gap between our concerts. And like I said before, it doesn’t matter if it’s you.” He bopped your nose, and you both burst into giggles.

“But I’ll have to catch the first flight tomorrow morning and head back...” He said. “Are you sure you’ll be fine? Do you want to come with me?” He added worriedly.

“No!” You said all too suddenly. You lowered your voice and continued. “I mean, no, I shouldn’t come with you on tour. I can’t ditch work, anyways.” You said. “And I wouldn’t want to distract a certain someone” You added flirtatiously.

“Oh, you already did. And he flew all the way to see you.” He pushed you down on the couch, you between his arms.

Your smile faded at that. “You didn’t need to! I’m sorry that-”

He leaned down and kissed you deeply.

“I told you not to say sorry, didn’t I?”

There might be a few mistakes in the story. Like I said, it’s a very old post. I feel like it loses its point somewhere along the line? In terms of its genre, I mean. I guess it was the first piece of fanfic I wrote. I don’t remember😂

But please do tell me how you found it, I’d love some feedback💕

Have a lovely day✨

Masterlist in bio~

-zara xx

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bjrdonghyuck · 6 years

Text

Lai Guanlin!Harry Potter Au

Requested by @kw03 ! tysm for requesting

Request: Your Jinyoung and Sungwoon writings were amazing!! Could you write a Harry Potter AU for Guanlin? Like he's a Slytherin and the reader is a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff and they don't get along at first but eventually they start dating? 💕

I decided I would do proper writing for this one so um...sorry if it sucks LmAo

Warnings: swearing, teasing, pranks, I mean, as long you’re okay with cursing then you should be fine :’) idk this is semi angsty ig

Guanlin strode through the long corridors of Hogwarts, his robe billowing behind him. His rounded glasses were perched on his nose while he wore his small smirk on his lips, something that never seemed to go away. As he turned into the the Great Hall, at least fourteen girls let out an abnoxiously high pitched “cute” noise as they rose from their seats and crowded around him.

You, on the other hand, were peacefully enjoying your dinner, your nose stuffed inside a spell book while you used your wand to feed yourself. As soon as you heard the “cute” noise your head shot up, ready to scold whoever dared disturb you. Of course, the moment your eyes focused you were promptly trampled, falling over with your books flying everywhere. Luckily, one of your friends had used a levitation spell to keep the books afloat and stack them neatly again for you. Annoyed, you sent Guanlin a glare from your spot on the floor. You see, Guanlin and you had never gotten along after the two of you were paired as partners in your Defense Against The Dark Arts class. What happened was that Guanlin thought you guys could hold off all the work till last minute and pass, but you forced him to meet you in the library everyday until the project was done. Of course, having Guanlin there slowed your project, but with all the bullshit he was putting you through, you wanted him to suffer.

Since then, you two bickered constantly. He would purposely stand near you so his fanclubs would trample you. You would be extra strict on him as a prefect, not letting him get away with the simplest of things. Sometimes when he felt eXtRa he would spill ink on your papers, or send a raincloud to follow you all day. You would use your title as teacher’s pet to your advantage and get the teacher let you play a harmless little prank on him, like good friends would. So Guanlin would run into invisible doors, walls, and get poked out of no where all day long.

“Guanlin...” you growled, furrowing your eyebrows and making sure your pissed off look was received by him.

“whaaaattt?~” he teased, smirking. “they’re just excited to see me, it’s not like you’re hurt.” he and the girls chuckled, creating a very annoying sound. Of course, you did fall on your ankle, and yes, it felt like a bitch, but you weren’t about to tell him that. Taking your books, you angrily huffed and stomped out the Great Hall, trying not to cringe whenever your ankle hit against the ground. Guanlin just turned back to the crowd of girls, taking in the attention with a smile.

Seeing as the nurse was busy, and you didn’t have enough time to wait around for your next class, you hastily wrapped up your ankle and grabbed some crutches. Looking over her shoulder, the nurse told you to come back during dinner for proper treatment before turning back to an injured quidditch player.

Guanlin anxiously tapped his foot against the Defense Against The Dark Arts floor, staring at your wrapped up ankle and crutches a few seats ahead of his. Due to a new student, you were moved so the girl (per her demand) could sit next to Guanlin and cling onto his arm, pointing out how “scary” everything was every time the teacher mentioned a creature. Slightly annoyed, Guanlin chose to ignore the girl, narrowing his eyes at you. What kind of idiot wizard manages to hurt themselves? He rolled his eyes and sent the girl beside him a small smile, getting her to leave him alone for acouple minutes while he stared at the teacher.

You used your crutches as you struggled to get down the stairs, heading to the nurses instead of the Great Hall. Why’d my last class have to be in one of the towers? You whined inside your head, pouting to yourself. One of your fellow prefects stoped you as you were nearing the end, giggling softly at your distressed state.

“What happened to you?” She pointed to your ankle, grabbing onto your arm and leading you down the stairs.

“Ah, I was trampled.” A force smile appeared on your lips as you bitterly recalled the incident.

Shaking her head, the prefect got you to the nurses, waving you goodbye as she went back to patrolling the halls. The nurse was nice enough to have a meal set up for you by your cot. Thanking her, you ate while she carefully unwrapped your ankle and grimmiced at the bruising. You gripped the sheets tightly in your fists as she poked around, tsking at your poor health.

Hours later, you were layed down in a cot, withering in pain. A bottle of Skele-Grow was placed on the desk beside you, causing you pain. Under nurses orders, you were spending the night in the infirmary, growing back your apparently broken ankle. Of course you had stacks of books next to you, since you figured you weren’t going to get any sleep anyways, you might as well study. It was around 3AM, the large grandfather clock read, when you fell asleep, face planted in a book.

The next morning you woke up to a bucket of water being poured over your face, Guanlin and the girl from class standing over you and smirking.

“Bitch, the fuck do you want?” You grumbled sleepily, rubbing your forehead, feeling your headache come on hard.

“Nothing, just making sure you’re not dead. I need you there for our Defense Against The Dark Arts presentation.” Guanlin smiled, wrapping his arm around the girl before they walked off, the girl giggling about some bullshit.

What a great way to start your morning! Standing and taking very creaky kangaroo steps, you made your way to the bathroom and cleaned yourself up. With a small smile, you thanked the nurse as you left the infirmary, stretching while your books followed behind you. A breakfast was already set out for you by a fellow Ravenclaw when you arrived in the Great Hall. You had never seen this boy before, but his smile made you mega uwu, so you just went for it. Later, you learned his name was Lee Daehwi and that he had been out studying muggles in america. Eventually, you and Daehwi became close in a short amount of time. It seemed the two of you shared many classes together, so you guys talked while you walked through the halls and partnered up in classes, giggling at the simplest of things together.

As the week progressed, you got closer with Daehwi and Guanlin started hanging out with his girlfriend more and more often, leaving you alone. At first his absence bothered you, after all, he did make things interesting. That didn’t stop him from being a bully in gym though.

Gym was the only time when you could interact with Guanlin. Not only did he guard his girlfriend like she was some sort of precious diamond (which she insisted on) but anyone who tried to get her out of games. Dodgeball? Try throwing a ball in her direction and see what happens. Or be Y/N, in which case, you’re going to get wrecked by balls anyways. Daehwi, being the good friend he was, would try to protect you, but he was to small and weak, ending up getting out himself and pouting.

“YaaAH! I can’t pick up the ball, my nails will be in danger!” Guanlin’s girlfriend pouted “cutely” and looked at her ridiculously long nails. Guanling just sighed and went back to guarding her, throwing the dodge balls quite harshly at the opposing team, getting the majority out in record time. Daehwi, who had gotten out early on because he tripped over a ball and proceeded to fall over onto the other team’s side, cheered you on while you tried your best to fight back against Guanlin’s team.

Guanlin smirked, raising his arm to throw the ball. He saw you, distracted while aiming for one of his team mates and decided to take his chance. He hit you in the ribs, causing you to fall over backwards and get the breath knocked out of you. On top of that, you had managed to fall on your ankle that was still healing in a weird way :).

“Wooooo!!! Way to go oppa!” Guanlin’s girlfriend cheered, taking delight in the fact that you had just been hit with a dodgeball so hard that you had fallen over. Daehwi, taking notice of the fact that it’s been 20 seconds and you still haven’t gotten up, rushed over to you, crouching down and trying to figure out what was wrong.

Guanlin sent a smirk towards the crowd of girls eagerly watching him before turning over to you, expecting a harsh glare. What he didn’t expect was you to be... whimpering? on the ground with Daehwi next to you while you desperately tried to blink back tears. He sighed, running his fingers through his hair before he jogged over to you, trying to keep his calm while he felt major regret on the inside.

Keeping his cool guy facade, he rolled his eyes before picking you up in his arms, gently pushing Daehwi aside. He huffed and blew his bangs out of his eyes before plastering on an annoyed face and walking out the gym with you in his arms, sight blurred from the tears welling up in your eyes. You felt comfortable though, and allowed yourself to be carried.

A gentle hand dabbed at your eyes while you blinked, sat on the counter of the medical supply closet.

“The nurse was going to kill me if she saw that I injured you again.” Guanlin mumbled while your vision cleared. Seeing the boy in front of you, you gasped and jumped back, hitting your ankle on a cabinet and letting out a string of curses.

“Chill.” He pushed his bangs out of his face and inspected your ankle, grabbing some stuff from the cabinet above you.

“Daehwi could’ve taken me...” You grumbled, crossing your arms and pouting.

“No offense, but that kid looks like he could barely lift anything more than 50 pounds.” Guanlin looked at you, “how’s your ankle?”

“Would be better if you didn’t smash me with a dodgeball.” You fired back, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Don’t do that, it’s disgustingly cute.” He smoothed out your eyebrows and messed up your pout.

You hissed while he wrapped your ankle, gripping the counter tightly.

“I’m sorry, does it hurt?” He worriedly looked up at you, stopping and gently holding your ankle.

“Whatever, hurry up and stop acting like you care.” You tapped his side with your healthy foot and scowled.

The next minutes were filled with your hissing while Guanlin attempted to wrap your ankle as gently as possible. Once he was finished he shot you a bright smile while happily chirping, “All done!”

Wait what-

Where’d Guanlin go and who is this?

You tilted your head curiously at him while he put away the supplies he had taken out and smiled some more.

“I’m sorry Y/N!” He bowed and helped you off the counter, making sure to keep your weight on him instead of your ankle. You, being the angsty protagonist, pushed him off and hobbled off on your one foot.

“Don’t start suddenly acting all nice and like you care, Guanlin. Go back to your girlfriend and fan club.” You scoffed and left him, using a random mop that was left in the hall as a cane while you went to the Ravenclaw dorms to grab your crutches.

Guanlin watched as you left, sighing and running a hand through his hair. I’ve really done it....

The next morning you heard hushed whispers everywhere, Guanlin’s name popping up in every corner. You headed into the Great Hall for your breakfast, sitting down next to Daehwi. Anxiously, you looked around for Guanlin, hoping your food wasn’t going to have frogs in it or something. However, you were surprised to find that the tall boy was nowhere in sight. This left you wondering, and you spent the entire breakfast trying to figure out where he had gone.

“Hey, Y/N!!!” A fellow prefect called out, waving at you. “Did you hear? Guanlin is single again!” She giggled while jumping up and down, clearly hopeful that she’d get a chance to date him next.

“Oh, maybe that’s why he didn’t show up at breakfast, must be mulling over his loss or something.” You deadpanned, staring into blank space.

“no, I heard he’s been sitting on the roof or something all day. no one can figure out why though.” she shrugged, adjusting her robes. “You should go make sure he’s not breaking any rules, I’m afraid of heights soooo...” she let out another giggle before skipping off.

Sighing, you trudged up the stairs and winced every time your foot had pressure applied onto it. After making it up there you put on a scowl and sat next to the tall boy on a bench.

“You better have a good excuse loverboy, I just had to go up all those stairs and thanks to a certain someone my ankle isn’t fully healed and hurt all the way up.” Grumbling, you inspected your ankle to make sure it hadn’t been further damaged.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking straight.” he sighed, facing you. “You know, I broke up with Soojung this morning.”

“That’s her name? Can’t figure out how I never knew that. Anyways, why?” You looked up at him, tilting your head curiously.

“I was wondering if...maybe you’d give me a chance?” He smiled softly and held your tiny hands in between his to protect them from the cold breeze that swept over the roof. “I guess I’ve just never been good at figuring out feelings, let alone expressing them.” Guanlin smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Meanwhile you were s h o o k. After a few moments of silence while you thought things over, you smiled up at him and let out a small laugh. “I’ll give you a date, if that makes you happy. One rule though, you have to start being a good student.”

You let out whines, protesting the current situation. You see, you and Guanlin had gone out on your date, hecc you’ve gone out on about 28 at this point. Your ankle never really healed though, in fact you just kept injuring it doing stupid things with Guanlin. Recently, you’d accidentally tripped over some random herb in your potions class and twisted your ankle. So now, Guanlin insisted on piggy backing you everywhere, insisting that you’d a) have a better view and b) be less prone to hurting you ankle again.

After settling down, you rested your chin on his shoulder, smiling. “You know, you’re not so bad after all. Not bad at all for a Slytherin.” You grinned.

“You’re not all that bad for a Ravenclaw either, I think you might like me better than your stack of books now.” He teased, pinching your nose.

“Definitely.”

K this is rlly bad qwq. You ever have really good plans for something but they end up going wonky and you just spend forever writing something you’re not satisfied with and feel like you’re just giving out trash? Yeah that’s pretty much what happened here. I apologize to anyone who put themselves through this tourture and waste of time :’). This was my first time experimenting with actual writing instead of bullets sooooo... yeah.

Request status is always up to date in my bio as well as my updated masterlist!

#wanna one #wanna one imagines #lai guanlin #lai guanlin imagines #produce 101 #produce 101 season 2 imagines #harry potter au #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #wanna one senerios #wanna one lai guanlin

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theghostofashton · 6 years

Text

“shouldn’t you be with her?”

this was supposed to be a quick oneshot but somehow 3.1k later i ended up with this pain

i don't have anything to say for myself except i'm sorry lmao

trigger warnings - anxiety, depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts, and self-harm

15. "shouldn't you be with him/her?"

"Hey, I know it's my turn to do laundry, but Ci got off early and asked if we could go get food..."

He bites into his lip as Awsten says the words, doesn't move his gaze from the TV and keeps pressing buttons on the controller in his hands. He tilts it to the side to make the little Mario on the screen veer left to avoid a falling boulder. "Can't you put the clothes in now? I'll get them later."

"I said I'd leave right now." He doesn't have to look up to know the smile on Awsten's face. The sheepish, half guilty but not really, 'I wanna hang out with my girlfriend and don't give a shit anything else' smile. "Sorry, Gee. I promise I'll do it the next two times to make up for it!"

There's a lot of rustling and he hears Awsten swear as something crashes to the floor. A door opens and shuts, and then the front door creaks open. Awsten leaves with a hurried 'love you!'. The door swings shut loudly behind him.

Geoff blinks up at the screen, feels liquid drip off his lashes and settle on his cheeks. He forces down a swallow and looks at the little map off to the right, his blinking icon with all the other characters eons ahead. As if that weren't enough, the little 12 in the corner says it all. He takes a heavy breath in, squeezes his eyes shut and keeps them closed for a few seconds, focuses on just inhaling and exhaling.

This isn't a new development. This has been happening for days, weeks, even. Awsten cancels plans or slacks on his chores or even forgets to pick him up from work because he's off spending more and more time with her.

He remembers that day.

His car was in the shop because it'd broken down the day before. He asked Awsten to be there at 5:30, texted him twice during the day to remind him about it. And Awsten texted back with eye-roll emojis, wondering why he had so much little faith in him.

And then the clock on his phone flipped to 6:00 and he was still standing outside the building, rain pouring down on his shoulders and his fringe plastered to his face, listening to Awsten's answering machine for probably the tenth time in twenty minutes.

This isn't a new development.

This isn't new.

The ache has been splattered behind his eyes since he woke up this morning. It's felt heavy, all day. There's this sort of weightedness that's pressing down on his shoulders, pressing the sky further into them. No matter how much he protests and cries and screams at the pain receptors in his nerves going haywire, it only gets worse.

This day is always hard. It hasn't gotten easier. It feels like he's moving through the process in molasses, like he's fighting and pushing and struggling against the thick wave of mush that just keeps trying to swallow him. It's trying to engulf him whole. It's molasses and it's quicksand. It's lethal and he's defenseless.

It's too powerful and he is tired of fighting.

He goes through this every year, has this fight with himself almost exactly, remembers the conversation in his head almost verbatim. One side is ready to move on but the other doesn't want to forget. One side is bounding toward the future but the other keeps getting pulled down by the past. One side is trying to wade through the molasses but the other keeps getting sucked back into the quicksand.

This year has been particularly difficult.

He doesn't know why.

He doesn't know why getting out of bed every morning has felt Herculean, why he's been living in a haze that's surpassed enveloping his body and has absorbed itself into his skin, wrapped around his bones and squeezed, left him awaking the next morning sore and somber and sapped of everything.

It feels like he has nothing left, like the mist has gone from simple smoke to a heavy fog that squeezes his bones and fills his head and sinks its talons into his shoulders. He wakes up to the ache, feels the throb in his muscles, pushes up to rest on his elbows and lets his head fall back and waits there, feels the new layers of pain hit the wall of his skull, wonders, whether it's even worth moving anymore.

It used to be.

Days like this used to be few and far between. He used to know what to do, how to handle it, used to know that waking up on this kind of morning meant forcing himself out of his bed only to crawl into another, wrap his arms around a waist and press nose to shoulder, exhale a heavy breath that almost always contained tears, feel the life move underneath him and come up to curl around his body in an abyss of warmth.

They stayed like that.

With hugs and cuddles and forehead kisses, he stayed there, breathing out into heated skin and resting his face against a tank-top clad chest, letting tears fall as quickly as thumbs pressed into his cheeks to wipe them away.

And days that started like this almost never ended like this.

He knows exactly when it all changed.

He knows when reality started setting in, when these days – the heavy, days, as they nicknamed them – started increasing and pronouncing in their ardor. He knows when her presence became a fixture and his didn't last. He knows day after day, night after night, the bugs crawling behind his skull and sinking their stingers into the bone, the pieces falling down into his chest cavity, the pain manifesting itself into streaks down his cheeks-

But there was no one to wipe them away.

He knows waking up in tears most nights, shifting to his elbows as they poured down his cheeks and clung to his neck, gasping for breaths in a room waning air, stumbling out of his bed and running to the other, scrabbling at the door with panic bubbling up his lips and nausea stirring in his stomach's dips, only to eventually resign himself to the fact that the other bed was perfumed and laden with high pitched giggles, a swell of laughter that traveled across the apartment, poking at him on nights the mist had finally settled, inadvertently stirring it back up again and leaving him helpless.

He knows the gaping hole in his chest and felt it getting bigger ever time, felt the uncaring child grasp the paper tendrils holding him together and rip, tear, until the pieces were falling to the ground and the rest of him was collapsing on himself and everything felt like it was fallingfallingfalling, into a hole he didn't know existed, down a path he'd never traveled, without the one person who shined a light into every one of these dark holes.

He knows when he lost Awsten to Ciara.

...

"So then I was like, 'are you kidding me?' Like, did she really think she could just-"

"Shit babe, one sec." He holds up a hand and pulls his phone out of his pocket. "I gotta take this, I'll be right back." He catches a glimpse of the look on her face as he slides out of the booth and makes his way toward the exit of the restaurant, sliding to accept the call as he does so. "Hey man, what's up?"

"Just checkin' ta see how Geoff's doing." Otto's voice crackles through the speakers at first and grows increasingly stronger. He can hear a door open and shut on the other end. "I wanted to come over but I wasn't sure if it'd be too much for him."

"What?" He pushes off the side of the building. His heart is starting to pick up. What was today what did you miss what are you forgetting about what's going on shitshitshit- "What the hell are you talking about?"

Otto's tone shifts. His voice is lower and considerably firmer when he speaks next, "Awsten, where are you right now?"

"At Chipotle with Ciara?" He phrases it as a question. What did you forget fuckfuckfuck what are you missing what did you forget what are you missing what did you forget what are you missing- "Why?"

"Oh my god." Otto blows out a heavy breath. "Are you fuckin' kidding me right now? Do you seriously not know what today is?"

"No? What the fuck is going on?" What did you forget what did you forget what did you forget what did you forget what did you forget-

"It's the anniversary of Geoff's mom's death, dipshit!" Otto snaps. "He's been-"

He hits 'end call' before Otto can say any more. He turns in the direction of his car and then back to the restaurant car restaurant car restaurant car restaurant GeoffGeoffGeoff-

How did he not know how did this happen how did he forget about this how did he not know how did he not know how did he not know-

Geoff's been quiet all week. He's never been the most verbose person in the world, but now, thinking back on it...dinners have been silent and conversation at the breakfast table is nonexistent. Somewhere along the lines they've morphed into two roommates splitting rent as an efficient financial decision rather than two friends who live together because they enjoy each other's company.

He doesn't know when it happened he doesn't know why it did he doesn't know anything anymore- GeoffGeoffGeoff-

The next few moments feel like a blur. He doesn't register them. He goes from the front door of Chipotle to his car and is almost completely backed out of the parking space before he remembers why he was at the restaurant in the first place, the girlfriend he has that is sitting inside, waiting for him, the girlfriend who, after all of this, is going to kill him.

And then he speeds out of the parking lot.

GeoffGeoffGeoff-

...

He breaks every traffic law on the way home.

Someone rolls down their window and starts swearing as he cuts them off, and some other lady barely misses him with her car. He speeds across the intersection just as she's preparing to turn.

People are mad at him and maybe one of them was a cop maybe there was a camera in one of the traffic lights he ran through maybe someone saw him and reported his license plate he's probably gonna get in so much trouble for this.

None of it matters.

GeoffGeoffGeoff-

How did he forget how did he forget how the fuck did he forget-

Geoff's mom's death is something he's still struggling so much with, years later. She's been gone for a long time. He remembers being at her funeral, pressing himself against Geoff's side and holding him, once the casket had been lowered into the ground and people started throwing handfuls of dirt on top.

He remembers never knowing what it was like to watch a human being literally fall apart, until then.

The tires screech as he comes to a stop in the parking deck. He jumps out of the car, barely remembers to lock the doors before he's off, running to the elevator and fumbling for his keys.

His heart is racing the world is spinning so fast his lungs are in his throat he's going to die he's going to puke he's going to puke or die whichever comes first hurry up hurry up hurry up GeoffGeoffGeoff-

"Geoff?"

The TV is off. The room is quiet. Geoff's car is in his own parking space. He has to be here. Awsten's heart is pounding so fast. He's definitely going to puke once all this is over. He swallows thickly and jogs through the living room and down the hall. "Geoff, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to forget, I swear!"

He's not in the kitchen. He's not in the living room. He's not in his room. He's not in Awsten's room. He's not- fuck.

"Geoff!" He cries. He reaches the bathroom door and pounds on it with his fists. "Geoff, please! Let me in! I'm sorry!"

He tries the doorknob.

It gives.

"Geoff..." He lowers himself to the floor and kneewalks over to where Geoff is sitting. "Give it to me."

Geoff doesn't look at him. His gaze is trained on his arm, sleeve pushed up, dots of blood welling from two open cuts. A slow stream of it is trickling down toward his elbow. There are a couple bloody tissues on the floor next to him, and he's gripping a piece of metal tightly. The broken razor is lying a few feet away. "Go away, Awsten." His voice is low.

"I'm not going anywhere," he replies. His heart is racing. His hands are shaking. "And I'm not gonna sit here and watch you hurt yourself."

He finally gets Geoff's eyes. They're red, bloodshot, but dry. There are no tears on his cheeks. He's not crying. This isn't foreign to him. He doesn't look like he's in any pain. "Shouldn't you be with her?"

He swallows. "No. I should be here. I should've been here all day. I'm so sorry I wasn't."

His heart is constricting. Every second shoots another arrow into the muscle, pierces it in a different place, allows more blood to spill and collect at the base of his chest, a pool of reminder for him to drown in.

He's the worst person alive.

"It's okay," Geoff says. His voice is different. It sounds like he's bordering on nonchalant but the tears are oozing out from the sides. It's too thick to be casual. "You had plans."

"Yeah," Awsten says. His heart feels like it's collapsing. His entire body is giving way into itself. "But none of them are more important than you."

"Bullshit."

"Geoff," he begs. He reaches for Geoff's hand, bites into his lip and presses down. "Geoff, please. Tell me why you're doing this. I wanna help you. Let me help you."

"You left me!" Geoff exclaims. His eyes are wild. At the outburst, the blood leaking from his cuts starts to pour faster. "You got a girlfriend and I didn't matter anymore! And now, 'cause today's the anniversary of my mom's death, you wanna come in here and act like you're shit? You're not! You left! You told me you'd always be there and you left!"

The tears start. They pour down his cheeks and drip onto his lap. Some of them mix with the blood and dilute it. He winces and reaches for some toilet paper, grabs Geoff's fingers and pulls his arm forward. Geoff fights and resists and tries to pull out of his grip, swears at him through gritted teeth as he clamps the tissues on his wounds. "Get the fuck away from me, Awsten. I don't need your help."

He holds firm, keeps the pressure on his arm. "I'm sorry." He forces his voice down, tries to mold it into something resembling calm. They'll get nothing accomplished if he's yelling back at Geoff. "I'm so, so sorry, okay? I know I've been a shitty friend. You needed someone and I wasn't there and that's all on me. It's my fault. You didn't do anything wrong. I was a shitty friend."

He can feel Geoff's breathing starting to slow down a bit. He keeps talking, "truth is, I've been spending a lotta time with Ci 'cause it's been weird with us lately and I guess I just- I don't want her ta break up with me, ya know?" His own throat is starting to close. He can feel the tears, the lump getting bigger and bigger, about to pop. "And I guess I just lost what was really important to me."

"You don't havta lie ta make me feel better," Geoff mumbles. He's crying. He's not fighting anymore. He's still crying, but he's not fighting anymore.

"Hey. Look at me." He uses his free hand to lift Geoff's chin and meets his eyes. "I'm not lying to you. I wouldn't. Ciara, she's...she's my girlfriend. I love her, 'course I do. She makes me happy." She's probably gonna break up with him after today- "But you, Geoff...you're my best friend. You've been my best friend since we were six. Remember that day? I asked to borrow your pencil and you-"

"I gave it to you," Geoff murmurs.

"Right," he says. He slides closer, moves his hand from Geoff's chin to his shoulder. "And then started crying 'cause we had a spelling test and you didn't have a pencil and you didn't wanna fail."

"I was so dumb."

"No," he replies. "You were so selfless. You put everyone before you our entire lives. Like when you gave your lunch to that girl whose mom never packed her anything in fifth grade? Or when you asked the "ugly" He pauses to make air quotes with his hands because she wasn't even ugly; thirteen-year-old boys were just stupid. "Girl in our class to the winter formal in eighth? Or when, senior year, you took me-"

"I took you to prom," Geoff finishes. "'Cause your date bailed."

"Yeah." He leans forward and presses his nose against Geoff's forehead. Tears are still streaming down his cheeks. "You put everyone before yourself. You help anyone who needs it. You give everything, Geoff, and you deserve someone that's gonna give it back to you. I'm sorry I've been sucking at it so much lately."

"Aws, it's-"

"Don't you dare say it's okay," he warns. "It's not. Your feelings are valid and you're not gonna shove 'em away into a little box to hurt yourself with later."

Geoff gives a sigh against him. He swallows. "You help everyone else feel less alone. You try your hardest. Now it's time for someone to do that for you. You don't deserve to hurt like this, Geoff. You don't deserve to hurt yourself, like this. I really want you to remember that. You deserve all the love and happiness in the world and I wish I could give it to you and I'm sorry I've sucked so much-" He pauses and takes a heavy breath. "But I'm gonna be better. You deserve me being better."

"I miss her," Geoff says heavily. "I don't know when I'm gonna get over it..."

"You won't," he promises. "It'll get easier, but you'll never get over it. Over her. She's your mom, Geoff. You'll miss her for the rest of your life."

"That's fine," Geoff mumbles. "I just don't wanna feel like dying anymore. I'm really sick of wakin' up every morning and wishing I hadn't."

He inhales. "That's- that's still happening? Geoff, why didn't you tell me?"

He remembers the days. If he was woken up to Geoff crawling in bed with him, he knew it was gonna be a bad day. He knew he only woke him up on days that scared him, days when breathing inconvenienced him and he knew he wouldn't get through it without someone else there.

"You were busy."

Fuck.

"I love you," he chokes out. "I love you I love you I love you. I'm so sorry. I'm never too busy for you, okay? From now on, no matter what, never."

"I just wanna stop feeling like this," Geoff sighs. "I wanna feel better."

"You will," he promises. He presses his lips against the side of Geoff's head. "I promise you will. I'll make sure you will. It's gonna be okay, Geoff. You're gonna be okay."

...

He finishes cleaning Geoff's cuts, helps him up off the floor and to change into some more comfortable clothes, and follows him into bed. They tangle their legs together like before, like they have been since they were fourteen and trying to figure out their bodies and their hormones, when they didn't give a shit who called them gay because they were best friends and they were happy. Geoff buries his face in his chest and Awsten wraps his arms around him, holds him as tight to his body as is physically possible, presses his nose into Geoff's hair and breathes out.

His chest hurts and his body still feels like it's collapsing on himself. Geoff falls asleep quickly. He knows he's going to lay awake tonight, contemplating exactly how the last few months have gone down and at what point his girlfriend started mattering more than the only person who's ever been a constant in his life.

And in the end he knows, with a weight dragging his heart down to his shoes and an ache behind his eyes as bad as the pierce of a bullet, that this is where he's meant to be.

This is always where he was meant to be.

#i have no idea how this happened #but i love it #a lot #waterparks #waterparks fanfiction #awsten knight #geoff wigington #gawsten #gawsten fanfiction #neha writes #anxiety tw #depression tw #suicidal thoughts tw #self harm tw #blood tw

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