#Like it just blocks it all out and I forget until it happens again an I have to face the harsh reality

[forlix]

· . ˚ 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

— the moments in which the members of stray kids realize how they truly feel about you.

words・1.4k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / warnings・depictions of conflict and anxiety in hyunjin's and han's / genres・domestic fluff, smidges of hurt/comfort, established relationships

a/n・thought i'd try out a new fic format :-) i had so much fun writing these and hope you like reading them just as much. any and all feedback is appreciated, as always!

chan is in a heated staring contest with his notepad when the door opens, and he knows that it’s you who comes in, but his head is miles away, tangled in an amalgamation of syllables and rhythms. he goes on to forget that you’re here for a short while, poring over the unfinished lyrics in front of him with undivided focus. that is, until he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder.

you’ve just pulled a chair up next to his desk. “lemme see,” you say, gesturing to the notepad. there’s a surprised pause, and then chan places it in your hand, scoots closer to you.

you spend the next two hours talking him through his block, but there are periods when you fall silent to brainstorm or to write something down, and chan takes those quiet opportunities just to look at you: wearing one of his old t-shirts, your hair still damp from your shower, completely concentrated. and he knows, then, that he wants to marry you.

minho doesn’t realize he loves you in a singular moment. rather, he has a faint inkling for some time, and then the rug is randomly pulled from beneath his feet, and all of a sudden he can’t remember a version of his world that didn't have you at its center.

there are times when he’s especially aware of his feelings, though. like when he throws a witty remark in your direction and your retort comes back twice as sharp. when your eyes and smile light up like lanterns as you talk to him about your passions. when one (or all) of his cats hover at your side as you go about your day. when he returns home after a grueling practice and you’re there to offer him your comfort, no matter his withdrawn demeanor or sweaty skin.

he is a quiet lover, and sometimes he worries that he’s too quiet, that you have no idea what’s going on inside him every time he looks at you. but words have never really been necessary with minho. you know. you just do.

changbin is greeted by a chilly breeze when he emerges from the gym, and he silently chastizes himself for forgetting to bring an outer layer yet again. but the temperature moves to the back of his mind when he spots you, waiting on the sidewalk, as you said you would. a familiar grin breaks across your face when you see him, and he feels its shape against his lips when he runs over and kisses you, in lieu of hello.

“what are you feeling for dinner?” you ask once he’s pulled away, and he realizes that you’ve pressed something to his chest: one of the hoodies that he keeps at your place, still soft and warm from just coming out of the dryer. and boom—the epiphany hits him, instantly and unequivocally.

he is dumbfounded for a moment, just processing the newfound discovery; and then, out of nowhere, the two of you say the name of the same restaurant at the same time. he swears he never believed in soulmates until he met you.

hyunjin has always held so many emotions in his heart so fervently, to the point that they sometimes overflow in the form of words that he doesn’t believe, in a tone that he doesn’t intend. and it happened again today, when he spoke to you the wrong way in a moment of pure impulse, and the surprise on your face morphed into poorly-disguised hurt.

a few hours later, the weight of his actions sits heavily on his shoulders. when he lifts his phone to call you, his hands are shaking a little, and a breathy apology spills from his lips the moment he hears you on the other end: “i’m sorry, angel. i’m trying, i promise. i really am.” to which you answer, “i know, hyune. i forgive you. we’ll keep trying together, okay?” and your words pull his heartstrings in a new direction entirely.

he asks if he can come over, you say yes, and he tells you he loves you as soon as you open the door. he’s done hiding his heart from you.

jisung’s contagious grin and raucous cackle come easily to him for the most part, but there are times when he forgets how it feels to laugh or to breathe, times when he wants only to hide from the world and all of its scariest parts. and when you see his figure in the doorway tonight, his face cast in a nameless shadow, his shoulders sunken in quiet defeat, you understand immediately that this is one of those times.

“do you wanna talk about it?” you ask as he approaches you. silently, he shakes his head: not tonight. but his body language asks for what he cannot verbalize. you extend your arms toward him, and he buries himself in them the second he’s close enough to, his face nestling the crook of your neck, the tension in his limbs melting at your gentle touch. you stay there for a long time, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades, coaxing him back to the ground, back to you.

wherever he chooses to hide, he thinks he’d like to take you with him.

when felix opens his eyes, the space in the bed next to him is empty, and the faint scent of flour and sugar wafts through the gap beneath his door.

he gets to his feet, throws on some clothes, and wanders in the direction of the smell, rubbing the sleep from his eyes—and the sight that awaits him makes him wonder if he’s still dreaming. you’re standing at the stove, still in your pajamas, hair slightly disheveled from your rest, and there are pancakes in the frying pan before you; sliced strawberries on the cutting board next to the stove. and the look of sheer focus on your face, as if staring at the pancakes will cook them faster, absolutely destroys him. (and he knows in that moment that he wants to wake up to you for the rest of his life.)

with an enamored smile, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulls your back to his chest, and presses a light kiss to the nape of your neck. “morning, beautiful,” he mumbles sweetly. “how fucking lucky am i?”

being around you makes seungmin feel like a kid with a crush. he smiles brighter and laughs louder. he opens like a lotus in bloom when you say his name. the floaty sensation he gets when you kiss his cheek or hold his hand persists for hours afterward—and none of it makes any fucking sense to him. it’s not that he doesn’t believe in love, but he’s never believed that love could feel like this, straight out of a sonnet.

now, your head is on his shoulder, your body rising and falling in your slumber. seungmin looks at your interlocked hands where they rest on his knee, and at the current track displayed on his lockscreen: “still” by day6, a song about losing and loving, about regret and reminiscence. those bright days between us are over, the lyrics go, and he makes a silent promise to your sleeping form that the bright days between the two of you will never end.

the word "love" still doesn't cross his mind, but it is etched all over his face, and carved into his soul.

you and jeongin are telling each other about your days over dinner when your phone lights up with an incoming call, and he nearly spits out his mouthful when he sees who it’s from. for a few seconds, the two of you just stare at each other in flabbergasted silence. but then, you raise your phone to your ear: “hi, grandma! to what do i owe this pleasure?”

and the voice of his grandmother comes back through the receiver. she tells you that she’s just gone on an evening walk and found herself thinking of you, so she wanted to see how you’re doing; if you’re taking care of yourself. you rush to thank her, looking entirely flustered, and a bit like you’re about to burst into tears.

with that, the two of you launch into chatter about everything under the sun: grocery store discounts, the recent humidity, jeongin’s bad habits, you name it. and it finally dawns on jeongin how inextricably embedded in his life you have become—and that he doesn’t want it any other way.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #k-labels #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #skz fluff #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #jisung x reader #lee felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #*writing #*headcanons #i wrote this whole thing in under three hours it's like i'm on a roll or wtv #need to go lie down this destroyed me #sorry i made hyunjin’s so sad for no reason #he is too too fun to write angst for

[loveinhawkins]

There’s a table in the school library that’s nestled in the corner, right by a radiator; Steve has claimed it ever since his double block of ‘private study periods’ began.

Not that he’s planning on doing any studying: it’s the last day of school before the winter break, and while his face has healed up from the whole Billy Hargrove Incident, he still finds himself feeling wiped at random—like his body’s having a delayed adrenaline crash ever since he pulled Dustin out of that freaky vine-infested tunnel.

So really, this spot should be ideal for a couple hours of not having to think.

And it would be perfect, if his eyes weren’t instinctively drawn to movement at the front desk.

Because for the past god-knows-how-long, Eddie Munson has been in a back-and-forth with the librarian.

It had started when he ambled up to the desk with a healthy pile of books in his hands, placed them down neatly, all ready to be stamped. Flashed a charming smile.

Steve was too far away to hear the words, but he got the gist that whatever the librarian had said amounted to no, absolutely not, because Eddie scooped the books back up, dumped them on a table a little distance away from Steve’s, then hemmed and hawed before returning to the desk with a more modest pile than before.

He was sent away again with presumably the same refusal, and so the pattern repeated until this very minute: he’s returning with just one book in his hands, his smile less charming now, more desperate.

But… no luck.

Eddie slouches back to the table in defeat. Just stands there, staring down at the books.

And goddamn it, Steve thinks, now he’s invested.

“Hey. Munson,” he says in an undertone. “What’s up?”

He doesn’t miss the weird kind of double take Eddie gives him, but at least Steve knows it’s not because of his face being a mess this time—seriously, drawing looks from students when all he wanted was to get in line for crappy cafeteria pizza had not been fun.

“Nothing,” Eddie says with a shrug, and he flashes another wide smile that makes Steve think bullshit. “Apparently I racked up a mountain of late fees. Who knew?” He sighs, glancing at his wristwatch. “Guess I’ve got enough time to just read the—oh. Um. Hey?”

“These books?” Steve confirms, having already stood up to look at them.

Eddie blinks a few times. “Yeah, these—uh, Harrington, what the fuck do you think you’re—?”

Steve heads over to the front desk with the books. It’s not all that difficult of a decision to make; he remembers Tommy H had his own library late fees in freshman year, but got nothing more than a simpering, “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again, sweetie,” just because his mom knew someone on the school board.

“For checking out, please,” Steve says, not bothering with a smile as he hands over his library card.

The only resistance he gets is a raised eyebrow from the librarian before all the books are stamped.

“What the fuck,” Eddie says, voice flat; he doesn’t take the books when Steve tries to give them to him, so Steve just shrugs and goes back to his seat, sets the books pointedly on the edge of the table.

“Look, man, it’s up to you, but I’m not gonna take them. They’ll just be sitting here.”

Eddie huffs. He goes over to the books, his hand twitching towards them before drawing back, like he’s at war with himself.

“You—you didn’t have to do that,” he gets out as if it physically pains him to do so.

Prickly, Steve thinks.

“It’s no big deal,” he says. “My account’s gathering dust, so someone might as well get the good of it.”

At hearing that, Eddie looks a little less defensive. He chews on his lips for a few seconds, then says, his tone serious, “Harrington, I’ll—I’ll forget. Like, with the holidays… like, I guarantee you, even if I write a million fucking reminders, I’m gonna take these books and forget to bring ‘em back for months.”

“Oh, no,” Steve says dryly, “lemme go alert the press, I just heard a blatant confession to a crime. Dude, just take them, what do I care if your homework takes you months to—”

“It’s not even for school,” Eddie interrupts through gritted teeth, “it’s dumb, it’s just—”

“Jesus Christ. Lemme call the press again, sounds like you’re reading a book for fun.”

Eddie stares at him. Steve raises an eyebrow in challenge—he could do this all day; just the other week, he’d beaten Mike in a brutal staring contest that felt like it went on for hours.

Eddie breaks first. “Fine,” he says with another huff, but he’s less agitated when handling the books—lingers thoughtfully on their titles, puts a couple in his backpack. The rest he opens at seemingly random parts, but it looks like he knows what he’s searching for.

And then it seems as if he’s just going to pick up the remaining books and walk away—Steve expects him to, honestly—but he ends up staying where he is, gives Steve a look of consideration, almost like he’s a book worth reading, too.

“You stole my table, you know?” Eddie says.

“Uh, no,” Steve says automatically, then adds with more confidence, “I was definitely here first.”

Eddie snorts. “Nope. My senior year, uh,” he shrugs self-deprecatingly, “the first time around. That was my spot. Was pretty possessive over it too, think I signed the table, like, underneath.”

Steve’s eyebrows rise in interest; he runs a finger along the underside of the table and soon feels it: an E.M scratched into the wood.

“Huh,” he says. “Guess you’re right.”

A pause.

And then Steve surprises himself.

“There’s, um, room here, if you want? I’m not gonna use the whole table.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. There’s a long enough silence in which Steve considers just telling him to forget about it, but then—

Eddie sits down opposite him.

It’s not as awkward as Steve was expecting: Eddie seems focused enough on his books, on bringing out a battered looking journal with sheets of paper that look like they’re hanging on by a thread. He roots around his backpack some more, retrieves a ballpoint pen with a quiet, triumphant, “Aha!”

He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that Steve isn’t even making an attempt to look busy; his own side of the table is bare.

“Didn’t know you were left-handed,” Steve says after a moment.

Eddie looks up from his note-taking. He smirks, waggles his eyebrows briefly. “Fitting, huh? Spooky.”

“Oh, I’m terrified.”

And Eddie actually laughs—hushed, but it still counts as one.

He soon returns to being absorbed in whatever it is he’s writing, which means Steve has less of a distraction when the familiar wave of tiredness washes over him.

He tries to sit up as well as he can, conscious of the fact that he’s not alone, but the radiator is the perfect temperature, and the steady scratch of Eddie’s pen has a soporific effect. He’s distantly aware of the fact that his head is nodding down with dwindling energy to try and stop it—hears Eddie’s voice, as if from very far away, rising in question.

Steve sniffs sharply, jerks his head back up and blinks hard. “What?”

“Oh, sorry,” Eddie says quickly, and he sounds genuine. “Didn’t know you were sleeping.”

“I wasn’t,” Steve says.

“Uh, okay,” Eddie says. His lips twitch. “That was an awfully long blink then, Harrington.”

“Shut up,” Steve retorts mildly. He stretches slightly, hides a yawn behind his hand. “Did you actually want something or—”

“Nah, wasn’t important.”

Steve frowns, unconvinced. The side of Eddie’s left hand is covered in ink, and Steve can see where his pen has started to die on him as his writing gets more faded across the page.

Steve puts a hand in his pocket, brings out another ballpoint and throws it at Eddie.

The pen bounces along the table, and Eddie manages to catch it one-handed.

“Good catch,” Steve says.

“Thanks,” Eddie says. He sounds almost uncertain.

Silence falls. It only takes another minute or two of hearing Eddie writing away for Steve’s determination to stay awake to waver again. He slumps forward with a mumbled, “M’just gonna…” and lays his head down.

Eddie stops writing.

“Hey, man, are you… okay? Like, if you feel… if you wanna go home I could take you to the nurse? Or—”

“I’m fine,” Steve says into his folded arms. “S’just… the aftermath of… stuff. No big deal.”

“Oh?” Eddie says tentatively.

Steve lifts his head up a bit, squints dubiously. “C’mon, Munson. You must’ve heard the rumour mill.”

Billy Hargrove had spread it all over the school, how he had ‘taught King Steve a lesson.’ In all honesty, Steve hadn’t cared all that much about how he himself came across in whatever story Billy created, was just relieved that at least Max and Lucas’s names had been kept out of it.

“I don’t put much stock in rumours,” Eddie says carefully. “Folks can say… all kindsa things.”

Steve nods faintly. Fair point.

“Okay, but you can take a little bit of stock in this one. Like, a smidge.”

Steve demonstrates with his thumb and forefinger.

It’s only when Eddie doesn’t smile in response that Steve realises he’d been hoping to make him laugh again. Maybe.

“Huh. Well. For what it’s worth… I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Steve says tiredly.

“Harrington. I’m not stupid, y’know? That was more than a… a stupid fight after school or something. Like, I can remember what your face looked like.”

“Gee, thanks.” Steve sets his head back down, closing his eyes.

“I didn’t—I just meant whatever it was, it… it went too far. Way too fucking far.”

Steve yawns again, doesn’t bother hiding it. “Yeah. Something like that.”

He’s resigning himself to the thought of waking up with a stiff neck before Eddie sighs and says, “If you’re gonna sleep, Harrington, don’t be an amateur about it.”

Steve looks up in time to see Eddie reaching underneath the table with one leg, hooking his ankle round the empty chair next to Steve and shoving it closer to him.

“Three or four’s probably the best amount for stretching out on,” Eddie says. “Uh, speaking from experience.”

Steve smiles. “Noted.”

He manoeuvres himself until he’s lying much more comfortably across the seats, using his backpack and coat as a pillow.

Frustratingly but predictably, despite his fatigue, sleep doesn’t come easily, so Steve looks underneath the table and asks, “What’re you writing about, Munson?”

He can see Eddie’s boots, how one foot is tapping away, as if in time to a song no-one else can hear.

“Um, I was just… getting inspiration for… it’s kinda like. Like a story, but—”

“Don’t hurt yourself, dude,” Steve says, “I know what a campaign is.”

The foot tapping stops.

“Aren’t you just full of surprises?” Eddie says.

He sounds a bit far away again, though Steve knows that’s just in his head; he can feel his eyelids drooping.

“You’ve got…” He sighs, voice trailing off as he finishes, “No idea…”

Eddie launches into a speech; Steve can follow it well enough for a little while, Eddie rambling about the kind of decisions he thinks his players will make in the game, but eventually the words become a blur, and he drifts off just like that, into an unexpectedly peaceful sleep.

He wakes with the lightest of touches to his shoulder, a soft, “Steve?” that nevertheless makes him jolt to full alertness in a blink, reaching for a bat he doesn’t currently have.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie yelps, almost falling back against the table. “What the hell kinda military training d’you have, Harrington?”

“Just have good reflexes,” Steve says, hopes it sounds casual enough as he breathes through his suddenly racing heart.

“Yeah, that’s one way to fucking put it. Anyway, uh. Sorry, didn’t mean to, like, startle you, but you slept right through the bell, man.”

Steve sits up; the library is empty apart from them, the librarian shooting them a not so subtle glare. And he realises that while everyone else was rushing out of school, eager for the holidays to start, Eddie must’ve stayed. Waited for him.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, quickly puts on his coat.

“God, sorry, you didn’t have to—if I’ve made you late, I’m—”

“Nah, don’t sweat it.” Eddie puts his backpack strap across one shoulder. “I wasn’t in a hurry. Um, are you… like, good to drive? I can give you a ride, if—”

“I’m okay,” Steve says, struck by the consideration behind the offer. He means what he says though; he feels pleasantly refreshed. He smiles self-effacingly. “Think I need one class where I can just sleep, and then I’ll get through the day.”

Eddie gives a playful scoff. “That’s already a thing, Harrington, it’s called first period.”

They walk out of the library together, and Steve finds that it’s kind of… nice, honestly. He keeps waiting for some awkwardness to creep in again, but it never does.

“Big holiday plans?” Eddie asks, smalltalk that should be stilted, but it just sounds like he’s sincerely interested in the answer.

Steve shrugs. “Not really. Oh, I’ve got—you know the Snow Ball thing tomorrow, at the middle school? There’s this kid I know, I’m gonna give him a ride there, but—”

Steve breaks off with a fond shake of the head, knowing that there’s this kid I know doesn’t really give it justice, doesn’t say the full truth: that Dustin Henderson has somehow wormed his way into Steve’s goddamn heart forever.

“His mom’s invited me over for dinner tonight,” he continues. “Think he wants, like, a dress-rehearsal of his outfit or something, which is probably the closest he’ll ever come to admitting he’s nervous. I kinda feel for him, honestly. God, do you remember being thirteen? Everything seemed to matter so much, and most of it was just… stupid shit.”

They’ve reached the parking lot, and Eddie gives Steve a sideways look with a bemused smile.

“Woah, Harrington, we’re still in school, remember? Don’t think we’re meant to sound so world-weary yet.”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah.” He gestures at Eddie’s get-up. “Bet you’ve never once cared about the stupid shit, though.”

What people think.

Eddie’s smile turns more knowing. “Shockingly, Harrington,” he says, “I didn’t come out the womb like this.”

They both hesitate; they’re at Steve’s car now, Eddie’s van parked in a space that’s further away. There’s no reason, really, for the conversation to continue any longer.

But Eddie still lingers.

“Uh, enjoy your dinner, I guess. If the… dress-rehearsal goes shit, just tell the kid it’s good luck for the real night.”

Steve laughs. “He’s in the Drama Club, so that might work, actually. Thanks, Munson.” He opens the car door as Eddie nods, starts to head off to his van. Seized by a sudden impulse, Steve calls, “Happy holidays!”

“Yeah, you too.” Eddie turns, tapping at his temple exaggeratedly. “Won’t forget about the books, I promise.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You better not,” he says, tongue-in-cheek.

He starts the car and heads for Dustin’s house, honks the horn when he drives past Eddie’s van, catches Eddie waving.

Steve thinks he quite likes the idea (regardless of whether it’ll put his library account in jeopardy), of the books finding a permanent home at Eddie’s place. Briefly imagines Eddie writing with an ink-stained hand, curled up safely in a world of his own—where the only monsters are the ones that live in between the pages.

#i’m forever in love with ‘first’ meetings i cannot help myself. can’t help writing about winter in spring too apparently #pre steddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve and dustin

[spideyhexx]

Once you became Billy’s girl and he became yours, he promised that no matter what, he would always kiss you goodnight. 

It was routine and he kept that promise to your surprise. It felt like such a little gesture, but when he’d find you, at your home, walking through town with friends or cuddled up in the blankets of his bed, he’d give you the sweetest kiss of your life with a sleepy expression across his face. 

That is until he eventually is very late to give his kiss. You’re pacing around your room, wondering where he is. Too many scenarios would pass through your head about him being hurt or even with some other woman. You tried to block it out, tried falling asleep but all you could think about was his kiss. At some point you decide to just get dressed again and go look for him. Worry turned into anger and you feel determined to go find him and give him the kiss to show you’re just as serious about it. 

That is until there is a muttered curse from outside your window. You peak out of it and see Billy, his nose a little bloody. Once he locks eyes with you, his words are falling out of his mouth, “ ‘m so sorry, honey, I couldn’t leave the game at the saloon and then some guy got mad I won and well,” he gestures to his nose and you nod, staying silent. He senses your apprehension. 

You help him into your room and grab a cloth, wetting it and start to clean his nose without a word. His blue eyes are looking deeply into yours. It’s a bit nerve wracking under his gaze. He won’t break it. You know so many thoughts are going through his head. 

“I didn’t forget about our kiss, honey,” he finally says just as you finish cleaning up his nose. 

“And I wasn’t with anyone else, just the guys.” Your eyes meet his and your cheeks flush. 

“How did you know I was thinkin’ that?” He chuckles a little and watches as you sit down on your bed, taking your boots off. 

“Don’t know. Maybe it’s cause I could see it on yer face, honey.” You nod and he sits next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. 

“Don’t like seein’ you hurt, Billy,” you mumble and you feel him shift to face you. His fingers nudge your chin up to look at him. 

“I can’t promise it’ll never happen, but I’ll be as safe as I can for you, alright?” He caresses your jaw before cupping your face in his hands, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

#billy the kid #tom blyth #william h bonney x reader #billy the kid 2022 #william h bonney #billy the kid x reader #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x you #tom blyth fanfiction #billy the kid smut #billy the kid x you #billy the kid fanfiction

[enhaheeseung]

Here to stay - L. Heeseung

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader!

Warning: mentions of sex, angst, heartbreak, fluff, crying.

Genre: fuck buddies, smut, mdni!

WC: 2,881k maybe a little more

Continuation of “Come & Go”

It's been one month since heeseung blocked you.

One whole month.

It was weird not hearing from you. It felt even more weird not getting up at two in the morning to run to your place and pleasure you.

Because he had cut all ties with you, he was sleeping earlier these days, but funny enough. His body was still waking him up at 2 in the morning, the time you'd usually call for him.

He felt pathetic cause his body was betraying his willpower to move on from you. Even if he was fighting for his mind to be occupied elsewhere, his heart still ached for you.

He was currently lying in bed, his phone clutched in his hand tightly, thumb itching to unblock your number.

"Fuck” he curses out loud and shuts his phone off, trying his best to respect the deal he made with Jay and ultimately trying to get over you, but it was so damn hard.

After nearly a year of being with you, it felt impossible to forget you. It felt impossible to move on with his life and find someone who would respect and love him for who he is and not just his body.

But fuck if he had to choose between you and true love, he's definitely picking you. Yeah, it hurt to be cast aside after being used by you, but it hurt so good that he'd always go back for more and more until you finally had your way and were done with him.

"Laying in bed all day isn't going to help" Jay opens his bedroom door without even knocking.

"Yeah, I kinda figured that out after the first week." heeseung rolls his eyes and sits up against his bed frame.

"The guys and I are going out. Do you want to come?" Jay fiddles with the lock on the doorknob.

"I'll pass." heeseung runs his fingers through his messy hair, sighing deeply.

"Well, the guys were hoping you could come so…" Jay murmurs.

"I'll make it up to all of you later. I still just need some time," Jay nods in understanding.

"Take your time." Jay slowly backs out of heeseung's room and closes the door silently.

"I just need some time," Heeseung quietly repeats to convince himself that all he needs is time, but even when he says it out loud, something in the pit of his stomach just doesn't feel right.

-

You sighed as you sat down at your desk at work, completely stressed out of your mind.

You could already tell you were going to have a headache when you got home tonight cause today has been nothing but a shit day.

It's one of those days where, just a month ago, you'd already be planning to call heeseung over so he could work his magic on your body and take all your stress away.

But no, because he blocked you cause he wanted more from you, and when he saw he wasn't getting it, he knew when to walk away.

You hate how you took him for granted. He was a great guy, amazing at sex and even better at cuddling you, and he also wasn't shy about making his like for you known.

You were just a piece of shit that disregarded him as a person with feelings and only saw him for what he could give to you, which was mind-blowing sex.

If you could have a do-over, then you surely would, one where you confessed to him and realized your feelings for him a whole hell of a lot sooner.

But you let your fear of being lied to and cheated on get in the way of your true happiness.

But could you even be blamed? Every man you were with did that to you, hence why you gave up on relationships and only had sexual transactions now.

But even you have to admit that Lee heeseung wasn't like Every Man. unfortunately, it took you too long to figure that out, and now here you are, heartbroken again because you let the past ruin your future. You did your best to stop that from happening and it still wasn't enough.

At least now a great guy like him could find someone who cared about him and loved him the way he deserved instead of someone like you who hid your feelings and was only going to confess after a whole year of practically using his body.

It hurt, but you hope he's happy with someone that's his equal and not a total piece of shit like you.

Who are you kidding?

It's not that simple; you wish it was, but you were going to be feeling this pain for days, if not months. Yeah, it was selfish of you to still want him around even after you played with his feelings for years, but it couldn't be helped.

If only you could have realized that he was worth taking a chance on months ago, maybe he'd be your boyfriend, maybe you'd be living together, maybe you'd be married and planning to have a family and live happily ever after.

The thought brings tears to your eyes, so you push your fairytale ideas to the side, focusing back on work before all your co-workers notice you shedding a few tears.

-

Another week had gone by, and heeseung felt the same. He knows they say it takes three months to get over someone, but how could he stay away from you that long? It was impossible, and that's why he's sneaking out of his and Jay's shared apartment to go to your place; being away from you was killing him inside. Even if you'd only use his body for sex and kick him out, it was still better than not being able to see or touch you at all.

He arrived some odd minutes later and jogged up the stairs to your building, heart racing in his chest, and he just hoped you wouldn't turn him away. He hopes you still at least just want him for sex. That'd be enough for him. Just knowing that you wanted something from him would be enough. He knows it's pathetic. He knows he deserves better, but he wants you, and he doesn't care if that makes him a loser. All he cares about is you.

The clock had just hit 2 in the morning, and you didn't know why you were holding your phone as if you could call him still, but you were. Maybe it was muscle memory, or maybe it was the only thing holding your emotions in check.

You laughed at yourself pathetically, but deep down, a part of you felt like you deserved this pain, and with that thought, you set your phone aside as the silence crept up on you, and instead of wallowing in self pity you were just going to go to sleep and wait for tomorrow so you could feel all these emotions again just this time it'd be a new time and a new date.

The knock on your door stops you in your tracks on your way to your bedroom you shake your head in disbelief because now you were even hallucinating the familiar sound of his knock.

You continued to walk to your bedroom until you heard it again and again, and there was no way that was just a hallucination, especially when the knocks became more frequent.

Heeseung was relentless outside your door. He wasn't going to stop until you let him in. He's sure you probably saw him outside the peephole by now, and he's not sure if you still even care to answer since he was the one who blocked you but fuck it, he was here now, and he wasn't taking no for an answer he needed you, and he needed you tonight.

He heard a soft click, the same one he always heard when you unlocked the door for him. His knocks came to a halt when he saw a faint light peaking through the crack of your door, and within a second, he stepped inside and slammed the door shut behind him, closing any type of personal space you once had. "Heeseun-" he doesn't even let you speak before he's jumping your bones, hands squeezing your waist as his lips met yours in a rushed kiss.

"Sorry I blocked you," he breathes out against your lips, still holding you tightly so you can't slip through his fingers. "Sorry I stopped coming, sorry I didn't answer," you moan into the kiss, hands strongly gripping his shoulders as you try to grasp what's happening.

You were shocked to see him, but you couldn't comprehend anything before you were making out with him, and right now, nothing else mattered but your lips working in perfect sync with each others.

"It was my friend's idea" he started trailing kisses down your neck, his large veiny hands cupping your tits roughly, causing you to arch your back and press yourself closer to him. "Said I should stop seeing you." he nibbled the skin of your neck as you moaned quietly. "But I couldn't. No matter how much you use me, I still want you," he whispers in your ear, his hot breath leaving a tingle running down your spine.

"Wait," you tell him breathlessly and push his shoulders, creating some distance between the two of you.

"Can't." he steps closer, lips pressing roughly against yours until you push him back again. "Please, I'll do anything. Please, just don't kick me out," he begs in a whiny voice. "I don't care if you only want me for sex. As long as you want me, that's enough."

"Heeseu-" he leans into you, his voice wobbly as he says the words he's been wanting to say for what feels like forever.

"I love you." he presses his face against your neck, inhaling your scent as his arms naturally wrap around you.

You hear him sniffle softly, and your heart breaks because none of what he was saying was how you felt, maybe in the very beginning, but definitely not now. "Hey," you cup his cheeks, making him look up at you, his watery eyes boring into your own. "I don't just want you for sex, okay, you're so much more than that, and I can't believe I'm saying this cause I never thought I'd utter the words again but fuck heeseung, I love you too. I love you so much," you whisper, hands running along his neck soothingly.

That's it. Lee heeseung had finally broken all your walls and infiltrated your heart. You thought they were impenetrable, but it turns out all you needed was someone who actually truly cared about you and not someone who was just using you for their own satisfaction.

He looks back and forth between your eyes, obviously confused by your words, and you laugh lightly because of his cute expression. "You don't have to say that just because I di-" You shut him up with one long-awaited meaningful kiss.

He was beyond happy to hear you saying those words to him, but this couldn't be real, could it? He must still be back at his apartment, dreaming of this moment that he had dreamt of a million times.

But your next words proved otherwise. "I know it's sudden, baby, I know, but I love you," You peck his cute pouted lips. "I just couldn't bring myself to tell you how I truly felt. I've been hurt so many times in the past, and I was just scared to move on with you, but I should have seen you were different from the start. I should have never strung you along and played with your feelings. I'm so sorry for everything, and I'm just so happy you're here now, and I can tell you how much you mean to me. You're so perfect, Lee Heeseung," you told him sincerely while stroking his soft cheek with your thumb, eyes full of nothing but love. "And I would be the luckiest girl on the planet to have all your love, and if you're willing to give me another chance, I want to give that same love back to you."

He's grinning from ear to ear, elated by the three words you just confessed to him.

He expected this to go so much differently than it has, but he wouldn't want it any other way. He can't believe you loved him back, like you actually felt the same way for him as he felt about you, and that was absolutely mind-blowing. And now that he thinks about it, he needs to have more than just a few words with Jay, but that could wait till later. Right now, he's gonna enjoy this surreal moment with you, the love of his life.

"Can you say all that again? You lost me at I love you," he chuckles, squeezing you in his arms tightly.

You giggle while nodding and repeating every single thing you said, and he listens very, very intently, his eyes sparkling as he looks at you with so much love.

"So maybe you can prove it to me in your room on your bed. How does that sound?" He scrunched his face up, laughing softly as you nodded your head shyly. "Yeah?" He grins.

"Yeah, I'll prove that and so much more, my love," you whisper seductively, and he visibly goes red, causing you to bite down on your lip to hold back your smile, and you can't help but think he looks so good all shy like that.

How did you ever get so lucky for him to give you another chance?

"God, I'm so happy," he sighs dreamily, staring at you with nothing but pure love in his eyes, and you felt so full knowing that he cared about you so much and was never shy to express it.

He picks you up in his arms, carrying you to bed. "I love you." he pecks the tip of your pretty nose, laying you down gently on your bed and hovering above you. "So much," he adds while leaning down and connecting your lips with his.

"I love you more." You smile so hard your cheeks start to hurt. "And for the record, you make me happier."

"Hey!" He whines cutely. "You make me the most happy."

And who were you to argue with that? Especially when his soft pink lips were colliding so perfectly with yours.

-

It was the morning after you and heeseung were lying down in bed together, his arm around you while your head rested on his bare chest. "Morning," you whisper, looking out the window and tickling his chest with your fingertips.

"Hmm, morning lovely," he chuckles and wraps his other arm around you. "Love you," he says with his raspy morning voice.

"Love you too." You kissed his chest all over, hearing him giggle from below you.

It's funny how it had been years since you said those words to a love interest, but with him, it just came so naturally, like you had been saying it for years.

"I gotta make it up to you, hee," you pout, tracing the faint line between his pecs.

"No baby, this is enough. Just you and me here now is all that matters," he assures you, but that's not good enough. He deserves the world.

"I know, but I want to do something for you," you tell him seriously.

"You don't take no for an answer, hmm?" He smiles.

"Not this time," you say matter-of-factly.

"Tell me what you want to do for me, baby. You were already amazing last night; I don't know what more I could ask for." You blush, hearing his words and feeling little butterflies erupt in your stomach. No one has ever talked to you as sweetly as he has. "Plus, you told me your side, and I understand it's hard, but I promise you I'll treat you right love, be the man you deserve."

"Oh, hee." You looked up at him, and your eyes started to water.

"It's only what you deserve" he taps your nose, making you smile, and now you want to give this man the whole world.

"That's it get ready," you tell him and hop off the bed. You were going to take him anywhere he wanted, buy him whatever he wanted, wine, and dine him the whole nine yards. Whatever he wanted, it was his, no questions asked.

"Okay, baby, but first, come take a picture with me so I can send it to Jay." You hop back in bed and take a cute picture of you both hiding under the sheets, with only your eye smile showing he sent it. Caption it: my girlfriend and me.

"Girlfriend?" You ask him.

"Don't act surprised. You know it was coming sooner or later," he laughs.

"Boyfriend!" You cheer after a few moments of letting this set in and tackle him in the biggest hug ever.

"I like the sound of that. Say it again, baby." you both smile, looking at each other completely lovestruck.

Heartbreak comes and goes, but this love is here to stay.

[END]

Thanks so much for reading! Please leave feedback. I love you all and hope you enjoyed it since everyone was asking for a lot.2 lol🖤

Anyone who wants to be on the perm tag list or regular just lmk cause I keep forgetting.

#enhypen heeseung #enhypen #heeseung #lee heeseung #enha heeseung #engene #heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung angst #lee heeseung smut #heeseung angst #heeseung fic #heeseung fluff #heeseung x reader #heeseung fanfic

[pillowspace]

Fnaf au ramble yada-yada

New thought that's stuck on my mind. One of those time travel fix-it Michael AUs, except Charlie also time travelled after Pizzeria Simulator. Neither of them knows the other remembers everything, and both are too distracted trying to comprehend the sheer normalcy of their own realities to really process how different the other person's acting.

Henry's very concerned as to what's happened to his daughter, as Charlie's suddenly become much more still and quiet, lacking her typical innocent cheer. She forgets to eat or drink until Henry reminds her to, and she won't tell him why she suddenly seems so on edge all the time. She was in terrible conditions as the Marionette for years, she has no idea how she's meant to be a person again. She sits in the same room as Michael and just stares at him, and whenever she's not looking, Michael's staring at her, thinking about a strange history that no longer exists but has put a massive barrier of tension between them both.

But there's also one issue with the time travel.

Neither Charlie nor Michael can remember when any of the deaths are to happen until they're happening.

So one day, Charlie gets locked out of the pizzeria in the rain. At first she pounds on the window, but then she stops. She backs away from it. There is a powerful, suffocating dread in her chest that is so much more than just her aversion to rain, demanding her attention. Something is very, very wrong. Now becoming even more nervous, she tries to recall how she had gotten back inside the building that day.

And she realizes.

She does not have a single memory past this point.

And before a car can even turn the block, Charlie runs.

At the same time, Michael was also running. He had regained the memory of this being the day Charlie dies, and is determined to make it to her before his father can. Only to turn the corner and, sprinting as fast as he can, crash directly into Charlie who had been doing the same. Michael barely has time to regain his focus on the sidewalk before Charlie is already scrambling back up and running past him to gain more distance.

So... life successfully saved! By... herself. What changed? And why had she been running so scared if, when Michael asked, his father hadn't even seen Charlie that day...? And as time goes on for even longer, Michael slowly starts to pick up on Charlie's oddities. Out of everything, it sticks out to him that when her birthday arrives, a birthday that she had never had the chance to see before, she only makes one request:

She wants a music box.

Eventually it'll have to fall into place.

Cassidy could have also time travelled, but I'm hesitant on that because the AU might just end the second they find a fatal weapon. Then again, I could give Cassidy the added bonus of not remembering who their killer even was, so one day they just grab Evan by the shoulders like "Evan. Evan, there is an imposter among us and I have no idea who it is, I'm going to explode. Tell me if you see a murderer" and he's like "there's a WHAT?? D':"

#ramble #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #michael afton #charlie emily #charlotte emily #henry emily #cassidy fnaf #fnaf cassidy #evan afton #crying child

[blackhairedjjun]

rebound and restoration

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem reader | genre / tropes: angst -> fluff, friends to lovers, post-breakup, non-idol au; ft. soobin + mentions of the rest of txt; reader is yeonjun's age (soobin calls reader "noona") | word count: 5.4k | warnings: post-breakup heartbreak, profanity, food, kissing

additional note: fic is mostly written but contains a few texts

summary: with his heart still aching after just getting dumped, yeonjun turns to you, one of his closest friends, for comfort. that is, until he kisses you - and your friendship starts to change.

author's notes: honestly i feel like if i don't post this soon i'll be dissatisfied with it forever and edit it endlessly and it'll never get past my drafts LOL perfect is the enemy of done!! anyway i wrote this while i was feeling stressed and insane during the holidays and wanted... an angsty kiss for whatever reason. lmao yeah

(support by reblogging banner by @cafekitsune)

when yeonjun arrives at your apartment, it’s still early in the evening; the two bowls of pho you ordered for takeout are still hot, and you’ve left your laptop open at a selection of cheesy netflix rom-coms. perhaps the selection is a bit ironic, but you mused that the feel-good escapism is just what he needs.

he pulls you into a hug and you give him an extra squeeze and a few pats on the back. you can’t help but ruffle his hair a little as he pulls away. 

“hey, jjun...”

“y/n!”

“how are you feeling?”

“ah, a bit better, i think.”

he gives you a slight smile, and you’re too relieved to notice that it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. it’s a miracle to you that he’s even smiling again two weeks after his breakup. you still remember the cracks in his voice when he called you after it had happened, the rims of his eyes red with crying when he finally crashed at your place half an hour later. that night you held him tight as he told the story to you in between sobs: hana had broken up with him over a call that lasted less than a minute. she was bored and tired of him and just stopped caring, she said, if he were a toy she could throw away if she didn’t want to play with it anymore.

you swallowed back the anger in your throat back then, though you couldn’t help the tears of your own that fell. now you push the anger back down again as you lead yeonjun to the small table at your kitchenette, one of the bowls of pho steaming in front of him. now is not the time for indignation; your friend needed comfort, and it’s comfort you will give.

yeonjun’s eyes light up at the sight of the pho. your heart swells, and you don’t hold it against him when he sits down ahead of you and picks up his chopsticks, ready to dig in. in between slurps he grins like he’s just received the best present of his life. “this is so good!” he said in between mouthfuls of noodles. “it’s been way too long since i had this.”

“i know! feels like we haven’t had this in ages.”

“remember when we tried to make our own?”

“oh god, not that!” you laugh, dropping your chopsticks. “we got impatient and that broth tasted like nothing.”

“your kitchen smelled like ginger though,” yeonjun recalls with a giggle. “it was nice visiting for a while.”

“my kitchen smelled like ginger more than the actual broth, jjun.”

“maybe we can try again one of these days? and if we mess up, at least you’ll have a nice-smelling kitchen again.”

all you can do in response is laugh, and for a moment you forget that you stopped having pho nights together when hana entered his life.

he fills you in on video game night with soobin and kai, shopping with beomgyu, and his so-called revenge gym day with taehyun; he beams with pride while describing his new weight record just as much as he does when talking about managing a hard-earned victory over soobin at tekken. you laugh along with him, knowing that his friends blocked out their schedules just to comfort him for a day. and when you talk about your new project at work and the new books you bought yourself as a treat, his eyes fill with that indescribable look you’ve seen before. you can’t quite place what it is, but it reminds you of afternoon light, of summer days, of lingering hugs after a long day together.

you don’t need to ask for yeonjun to help you clear out the table and pick up the snacks you set aside for your movie, and you make no effort to resist. there are no words exchanged: he simply places all the disposable pho bowls and chopsticks together, and you reach for a clean garbage bag and put them all in. the only communication between you is a shared look and a nod.

perhaps it’s just your imagination, but that look lingers a little longer than you’re used to, and you can’t help but give him a satisfied smile.

you’ve seen him look at hana that way, too many times to count, especially during that early-dating phase when the thrill of emotions was still high. you wondered what it was like to be on the receiving end of that gaze, for yeonjun to look at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. and you wondered if hana really was that precious 一 if she were just as precious to him as you, his best friend, if not more so.

you let yeonjun select the movie. at first you doubt your idea to present him with rom-coms, of all things, but you let out a sigh of relief when he happily chooses one of them. both of you have seen this one many times over, but you don’t mind. there’s comfort in knowing that a happy ending is guaranteed to happen.

the two of you are slouched on your couch together, the laptop balanced on a pillow between the both of you. yeonjun sits close to you, an arm around your shoulder, a gesture that he hasn’t done with you since he started dating. you let yourself lean against him (so that you can see the screen better, you tell yourself). the two of you start a running commentary on the movie 一 “why would he say that?!” “aww, they look so cute together,” “oh god, that was so stupid!” 一 and both of your laughter fills the apartment, the sound like a duet in harmony.

it’s so easy this way, you think 一 just you and your best friend in your own little corner of the world. you steal a glance at yeonjun while he’s absorbed in the final confession scene, a soft smile on his lips and his eyes gleaming with anticipation for the big kiss. a string of memories flash before you before you can help yourself.

“she said yes,” he says, his whole face flush with excitement. “she said she’ll be mine.”

his hands are on your shoulders and he gives them a gentle squeeze. “there’s no way hana can’t like you. you’re one of my best friends, i’ll make sure you get along.”

“i think hana’s mad at me,” he tells you as he fiddles with the beanie in his hands. “but don’t worry about it, we’ll talk it out, i promise.”

his head is in his hands as you sit across him from a restaurant booth. “i don’t know what i did wrong, she looked so bored through the whole date...”

you hold him close as he sobs in your arms, his whole body shaking. “sh-she said she’s... tired of me…”

“y/n?”

you snap back to reality as yeonjun glances at you, his head tilted. the ending credits of the movie have started to play. “are you okay?”

“i-i’m fine.” you reach out to touch his cheek, then hesitate. “are you okay?”

“i’m fine, y/n.” he picks up on the meaning of your words. “i know i looked really bad that night, but i’m getting better, i promise.”

“good.” your eyes meet his, and your cheeks grow warm. “we can have nights like this as many times as you want until you feel better, okay?”

“yeah, i know. i missed having nights like this, actually.”

“me too. i really liked it when we did this all the time...”

“i know. i’m sorry. hana didn’t like一”

“hey.” your hand comes up again and this time, you gently hold on to his cheek. “it doesn’t matter what she thinks anymore.”

“y/n... i’m really sorry. i feel like i neglected you, and you’ve been my friend for so long...”

tears form in his eyes, and you feel them warm against his cheek. you wipe them away with your thumb as you move closer to him. he continues to ramble as you do.

“i feel like an idiot. like a total dumbass.” the pitch of his voice begins to rise. “god, i was so convinced that hana and i were the perfect couple, that we’d be happy. i-i thought about her more than she d-did about me, y/n, and i stopped hanging out with you一 when you’ve always一”

“jjun, please don’t apologize anymore,” you say, your voice trembling. “i’ve never been mad at you over her, not even once. i just want you to feel better, okay? i... i just want to see you be yourself again.”

you want to see the yeonjun you’ve always loved.

you’ve lain awake at night wondering if he’s ever sensed your feelings for him, and if he’s ever felt the same way. on the day he told you that he and hana were officially together, you spent that night sobbing in your bed, convinced that your friend would never see you as a lover. and yet you said nothing of that night, and of other nights similar to it, because you told yourself that if hana made him happy, then you would be happy too.

and now you want more than anything to see him happy again.

yeonjun says nothing, but instead places a hand on top of the one you have resting on his cheek. you feel it trembling, but you don’t resist as he grasps your hand to intertwine his fingers with yours. he swallows hard to push back the rest of his tears, and his eyes soften. once again there’s that indescribable look of his that makes you feel light.

“y/n...”

he says your name softly, as if in reverence. his face inches closer to yours and you don’t pull away; instead you feel lighter than ever, your gaze falling to his lips as your eyes flutter shut. everything that follows feels slow, gentle; his nose brushing against yours, then your lips on his.

he kisses you slowly at first, but as you kiss him back you fill with a new fervor, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him wrap his arms around your waist to pull your body flush against his. warmth blooms in your chest, and every movement of yours betrays your feeling: your lips moving against his, your hands making their way into his hair. you want to kiss him until the pain he feels has been replaced by the love you have for him 一 i love you, i love you, i love you.

you’re completely absorbed in him and let out a soft sigh when yeonjun snaps out of it 一 he breaks apart from you, breathing hard, eyes wide as he’s hit by what he’s just done.

“shit, y/n一” he gets off the couch, one hand running through his hair over and over again. “i’m so sorry. fuck, i shouldn’t have done that一”

you’re snapped out of your trance as you stand up to chase after him. “jjun, hey, wait! listen to me—”

he’s picking up his bag from the foot of your couch. he can’t even look at you, instead occasionally letting out a shit or two under his breath.

“yeonjun, please一”

you stand in front of him to block his way from the exit. at first his head is bowed, avoiding your gaze, but when he finally looks up his expression is solemn.

“you are not a rebound to me,” he says at last. “please don’t ever think that i just used you to make me feel better.”

“i never accused you of that! look, i’m sorry too, it was my fa一”

“i’m really sorry, but i can’t stay here anymore. i’ll make it up to you, y/n, i promise.”

“wait一”

yeonjun walks past you and before you can protest any further, he’s out your door. you push it open and try to chase after him, but after a few steps you stop, thinking better of it. what would stopping him even do?

you walk back inside and slump back down on the couch. the screen of your laptop faintly glows, and a half-eaten bag of chips has fallen to the floor. all at once the reality of what happens sinks into you: the kiss, his words, his departure.

you are not a rebound to me. the words echo in your mind.

a strange tension fills you, and you can’t even tell what emotion it’s supposed to be from: confusion, frustration, anxiety. with your whole body seemingly on edge, you grab a throw pillow from the opposite side of your couch and press it into your face.

you sob into it the tension crashes down on you in full force.

一

for the next few nights the scene replays in your dreams: yeonjun leaning in ever closer towards you, your lips meeting his in a fervent kiss 一 each night’s dream-kiss more fervent than the last 一 and him suddenly pulling away. you awaken each time just as he breaks the kiss, the shock and confusion coursing through you again, and immediately after you reach for your bedside table to check your phone.

still no text from yeonjun.

you consider texting him again, but each time you type a new message you erase it, the blinking cursor driving you mad. how would you even know what to say? do you want to apologize? to beg for his forgiveness? to ask if you can still be friends?

you hate to admit it, but every morning you lie in bed for a few moments more to allow the dream to sink in. the look on yeonjun’s face appears vivid to you, from his eyes blown wide to his mouth slightly agape. your mind travels back to the moment he breaks the kiss, as if a sudden force pushed him away, the shock of it hitting you. then it wanders to the kiss itself, the feeling of his lips soft against your own, his arms warm as they hold you by the waist…

you shake the memory away, drag yourself out of bed, and continue on with your routine: breakfast, shower, get dressed. you resist the urge to check your phone for as long as you can. you stare at the little contact photo you set of yeonjun and remind yourself: you’re his friend. you need to help him heal. 

you recount your worries to soobin over snacks one day.

“i feel like i’m being selfish,” you say in between munches of potato chips. “he hasn’t even moved on from hana”— soobin winces at the acridity you mutter her name with—“and now one of his closest friends kisses him like she’s madly in love. how is he supposed to move on? he’s hurting enough as it is.”

soobin sets aside the bag of chips you just finished. he rubs his face with his hands as he tries to choose his words carefully.

“you’re not being selfish, noona. you sound like you’re trying to be careful so that you don’t hurt him,” he says at last. “and yeonjun hyung feels just as bad about it. he feels bad that he even started the kiss, and for making you feel like a rebound. you two sound like each other, to be honest.”

“i know he feels bad, it’s just 一 i don’t know how that will fix...” you wave your hands wildly in the air, “this.”

“you can start by talking to each other?”

“he didn’t reply to my last texts. and i… i don’t know if i should text him again.”

a moment of silence. soobin opens a pack of candy and chews on it, just to give himself time to think. he fiddles with his phone as he does, absentmindedly scrolling through his old texts, when one of them catches his eye.

“so, there’s this new restaurant that beomgyu wants to check out.”

“really, soobin, what does this have to—”

“he was thinking of inviting all of us there to hang out,” he continues. “including you and yeonjun hyung. we can plan for it a week or two from now so that you have space? and then you can get used to talking to him again there. if things get awkward, i can ask beomgyu to fill in.”

you purse your lips. “i dunno, i might cry if i see his face again.”

“if you don’t feel like it, just call in sick.” soobin’s mouth twitches into a small grin as he says it — you know he’s used that excuse to get away from social situations he doesn’t want to be in. now you’re starting to see the appeal of it.

“okay. i’ll think about it.”

—

ultimately you do decide to go, and two weeks later you’re the first to arrive at the restaurant. you can feel your hands trembling as you push the door open and your heart hammering in your chest. in your head you’ve prepared what you want to say to yeonjun and you mentally rehearse your words for the hundredth time.

you slide right into the booth and take a deep breath. you check your phone to keep yourself busy, letting yourself calm down until your hands have stopped shaking. as you’re scrolling through your camera roll looking at some memes beomgyu sent you, someone slides into the booth seat opposite yours.

“hey, y/n.”

yeonjun gives you a shy smile and the nervousness in your stomach kicks into overdrive. he looks much better now; the bags under his eyes have lessened, and his smile seems genuine. still, you can’t help but remember the last time you saw him, and you shudder.

he sees your reaction and winces, averting his gaze. when he speaks, his voice is soft. “y/n... are we okay?”

the question breaks you and whatever words you have prepared fly out of your mind. as you try to grasp at them again, tears prick at your eyes.. “yeah... yeah, we’re okay,” you say. you take a gulp of water to hold back the tears. “i was never mad at you, jjun, i’ve been worried out of my mind一”

“i’m sorry i never replied to your texts.” he places his hands atop your trembling ones. “i just felt so ashamed that i didn’t know how to face you.”

“and i’m sorry i never tried texting you again, i just didn’t know what you thought of me, and i was so scared that i lost you...”

“i was so scared that i lost you.”

you sniffle. “that makes both of us then. god, we were so stupid.”

“i missed you, y/n.”

“i missed you too, jjun.”

you let out a laugh of relief and he laughs too. with the sound of his laughter melding with yours, everything else seems to melt away: the tears in your eyes, the other noises of the restaurant, the baggage of the last two weeks. sitting before you is your old friend, holding onto your hand to comfort you, laughing together with you just like you always have. 

and just as always, you want nothing more than for your friend to be happy.

“so,” you begin, giving him the most reassuring smile that you can muster, “let’s start over?”

yeonjun glances down at the table, but you can see his eyes crinkling as they usually do when he smiles. “yeah, let’s do that.”

when beomgyu enters the restaurant right afterwards, all it takes is one glance at the scene before him to understand what happened. he turns his head towards you, meeting your gaze, and you give him a nod.

it’s going to be okay.

一

the kiss becomes an unspoken part of your history together, never mentioned and never acknowledged. you stop searching for hidden meanings to it, and instead settle on the explanation that it was simply a spur-of-the-moment reaction from pent-up post-breakup emotions. it doesn’t matter to you whether or not this explanation is true; it’s the explanation that gives you the most peace of mind, and that’s what matters. as the days pass, you think of it less and less, and eventually it is filed away in your memory, like a book never checked out of the library collecting dust. 

in the meantime, you pour your energy into rebuilding both your friendship with yeonjun as well as his fragile heart. the first few hangouts with just the two of you are awkward with a tinge of melancholy, with conversations feeling a little too short. fortunately, your shared friends are there to help: you and yeonjun are invited to video game nights at soobin’s, or a cute new cafe that kai wants to check out, or just a walk around the park. the silences feel less awkward when it’s quickly filled by a joke from beomgyu or witty remark from taehyun.

from time to time you see the shine in yeonjun’s eyes disappear, even for just a moment, when he encounters something that reminds him of “the ‘h’ word” (as beomgyu refers to her): a park bench where they had a date, or a dress on a passerby that looks a lot like something she would wear. sometimes one of his friends would recognize it and quickly divert his attention elsewhere. soon those diversions occur less and less often as fewer and fewer things remind yeonjun of her.

but things don’t truly feel normal to you until a month and a half later. your project at work has gone well, and yeonjun has completed the first draft of a mixtape he’s making. just as you muse to yourself that a reward would be nice, your phone buzzes.

that afternoon you and yeonjun stroll down the shopping district a few minutes away from his house, trying on this and that. it isn’t long before you find yourself spending over your budget; it’s hard not to when yeonjun is constantly egging you to buy something you really want. “c’mon, y/n,” he whines as you put back another cute button-down on the rack. “you deserve it! you can wear it to work for the next phase of your project!”

he giggles when he sees your eyes light up at his words. “we do have another presentation for it,” you muse.

still, you draw the line when you spot an elegant tan jacket worn by one of the storefront mannequins. you stare at it longingly as if you’ve found your soulmate, and yeonjun sweet-talks you into entering the shop and trying it on. but when you see the hefty price tag on it, you sigh.

“i can’t justify this, jjun…”

“but you look great in it! and you want it so much. you’ll feel worse if you don’t get it.”

“maybe…” you glance down at the shopping bags in your hand. “i dunno, i’ve spent so much already.”

you sigh in defeat and turn back to the store exit before you can second-guess yourself. yeonjun doesn’t follow immediately, but instead watches you go as he lingers a bit longer.

later that day, the two of you sort through all the things you bought (mostly clothes and accessories, but also a vinyl for yeonjun and a novel for yourself) in between giggles and wide eyes and a shower of compliments. yeonjun puts on a completely new outfit for you and struts down his apartment like a runway model, and he pulls you up from the floor to do the same. soon you’re laughing and clapping at each other’s performances, and yeonjun even whips out his phone to take photos of each other’s best looks.

as you rummage through your haul for one more outfit to assemble, your eyes land on a familiar spot of tan fabric. your mouth falls open when you pull it out and see that jacket — the one you’re pretty sure you didn’t buy. you glance up at yeonjun and he licks his lips before forming a mischievous grin.

“jjun, is this...”

“it’s yours.”

“you didn’t have to一”

“i saw the way you were looking at it, y/n. i just had to get it for you. c’mon, put it on.”

hesitantly, you take off the jacket you’re already wearing and put on the new one. it fits perfectly, just a little loose to let air flow in, and you love how it frames your figure. yeonjun is still smiling at you, but it’s a different smile. he looks at you as if you’ve transformed in front of him.

“you look really pretty,” he says. “let me take a few pics, okay?”

he snaps a few photos of you and you pose for the camera, and a comforting warmth settles over you. if this happened a few months earlier, you would have blushed and your heart would be doing somersaults, but now all you feel is a light flutter. everything feels fit in, like the final piece of a puzzle slotting into place.

you lock eyes with yeonjun as he takes the last photo and puts his phone away. as you whisper “thank you” to him, the gleam in his eyes is reflected in your own. there it is, that indecipherable look of his that makes you feel warm.

you still love him 一 there’s a part of you that still knows that. but over the last month and a half you’ve simply learned to live with your feelings, letting them fill you with lightness for a few moments and then letting them go. feelings or not, you’re just glad to have yeonjun in your life again. even as a friend, his presence is a soothing balm against the stresses of life.

一

months later, yeonjun is sprawled on your couch again, his head on your shoulder as you scroll through your list of rom-coms on your laptop. at one point the two of you resumed your pho and rom-com nights, and you’re glad for it; few things give you as much comfort after a long week of work.

after scrolling back and forth a few times, you pause on the same movie you’ve always watched together and give him a quick look. he simply smiles.

“don’t you get sick of this one?” you ask.

“not really, the ending always feels nice. are you… tired of it?”

“no no, i— i was worried that you’re tired of it.”

“me? never.”

“perfect, ‘cause i’m not either.” you give him a knowing grin and press play.

at this point you both know this movie so well that you recite along to every line. you do the female lead’s lines, yeonjun does the male lead’s, and you even sing along to the soundtrack. yeonjun stretches out on your couch even more, his head ending up in your lap, and in the movie’s quiet moments you find yourself playing with his hair. when the big confession happens you can feel him holding his breath and then releasing it in a laugh when the two leads finally kiss.

the credits roll and he glances up at you, smiling in satisfaction. you smile too and hum along to the end credits song. as the movie ends, you let yourself bask in it: you stretch out your arms, yeonjun sits up to lean on your shoulder again, and you lay your head atop his. the two of you remain like that for a while, sitting in comfortable silence.

“don’t you ever get jealous of them?” you ask.

you feel his head shake a bit as he chuckles. “i hate to admit it, but yeah. rom-coms always make getting together look so... fun.”

“right? i wish my life was like that.”

“god, me too.”

“i swear, it drives me insane,” you huff. “every time i watch this i want to start dating again or something.”

a few more moments of silence. yeonjun lets out a soft exhale and you feel his body grow tense. the air in your apartment seems stuffier.

“speaking of which, i have to tell you something.” 

“me...?”

you’ve never heard yeonjun sound so solemn. his head weighs down on your shoulder. “y’know, i’ve been uh... thinking of dating again.”

“oh... where are you dating this time? did beomgyu set you up again?”

he shakes his head, looks up at you for a split second, then looks down at his hands. you see the tips of his ears turn pink.

“actually, i... i have someone mind. someone i want to ask out, i mean.”

with those words the feelings you’ve brushed aside for so long come back in full force. your heart beats so hard it feels like it’s slamming into your chest. when you speak, your voice shakes.

“oh... who’s the lucky one?”

“i-i’ve known her for a while. she’s sweet and fun to be around... we’ve been hanging out a lot more often these last few months. we get along really well, at least i think we do...”

“sounds like you have chemistry with this special girl,” you say, the words heavy on your tongue. the hammering of your heart floods your ears. “so what’s stopping you from asking her out?”

yeonjun sits up to face you fully. you sense the effort it takes for him to look at you 一 has he ever been like this around you before? 一 and you reach for his hands. they’re trembling, and his ears go from pink to red.

“a long time ago,” he starts, voice shaking, “i kissed her. i kissed her after my last breakup. and i wasn’t thinking straight, i was just so lonely that i wanted to be loved again 一 but i can’t do that to yo— to her, she’s one of my best friends, i don’t want yo— her to be a rebound 一 but then you said we could start over so we did and i dunno, at one point i started liking you, i fell so hard i don’t know wh一”

you interrupt him with a kiss, your lips gentle on his. you feel him kissing you back, his movements gentle as his hand comes up to hold your head in place. you find yourself pressed against him and he’s even warmer than you remember, warmer than those dreams you had so many months ago.

when you break apart, his eyes are glazed over in a look of pure admiration. 

“y/n...”

“jjun, i...” heat spreads across your face. “i’ve loved you for years.”

“then why didn’t you say anything?”

“how could i? what if you didn’t feel that way and it ruined our friendship? and with all the other guys too?” your heart is still beating fast but you let out the words while your boldness still has a hold on you. “and then you dated hana and i cried but i wanted you to be happy 一 then you broke up and you kissed me and i liked it, and i hated myself for liking it because you were 一”

yeonjun pulls you into him, arms encircling you, and as you keep rambling into his chest he soothes you with one hand combing through your hair. his other arm grips you firmly, and your own arms find a firm hold around his neck.

“i love you too, y/n,” he whispers into your hair before leaving a kiss there. “it’s okay.”

“i love you, so much...”

he pulls apart to get a good look at your face. as he sees a few tears start to roll down your cheeks, he brushes them aside with his thumb.

“so this girl,” he says, affection lacing his words, “after we kissed, she said we could start over. and we did. and i’m really glad we did, because i fell for h一 for you so hard.”

you lean your head forward so that your forehead touches his. “really?”

“really. and i...”

“do you want to kiss her again?”

yeonjun’s breath hitches and his eyes meet yours. there it is 一 that same look of his that makes you feel light. the one that, you realize, makes you feel loved.

“can i?”

“please,” you whisper.

he closes the gap between your lips and his, and this time you feel only relief and bliss.

#txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #txt x you #yeonjun x you #choi yeonjun x reader #kpop x reader #txt imagines #kpop imagines #yeonjun imagines #txt angst #txt fluff #yeonjun angst #yeonjun fluff #tomorrow x together imagines #txt fic #txt fanfic #bhj originals

[pandorafairy]

Secret Cove (Part 3)

Neteyam x Metkayina (oldest daughter of Tonowari, the chief)

Neteyam is 18

Contains: new character & secrets, Neteyam fluff, Neteyam jealousy

I break the surface of the water with a fish flapping around in my net. The Sully children, all except Neteyam, study the way I hold it. Kiri frowns slightly, like she’s unhappy with the killing of the fish. I paddle up to the ledge where they all sit, their toes brushing against the waves. 

“It’s our dinner Kiri.” I smile at her and pull myself out of the water. A few villagers whisper from a nearby pod, their eyes following my movement. Rumors about Tonowari’s eldest getting in trouble have spread rapidly. I act like I don’t see their stares. 

“Yea, I know,” Kiri replies in annoyance. Tuk stares off into the horizon, lost in her own world. Lo’ak stares at Tsireya and she pretends not to notice. Everyone seems fine but lessons feel wrong without Neteyam here. Lo’ak had said their father took Neteyam out hunting with the other men. Aonung and Rotxo had looked at each other with shared jealousy. I hadn’t said anything but I know it’s more than just a hunting spree. Guess Jake and my father really do want us to stay apart. 

“That’s it for today,” Aonung says. Kiri immediately jumps up and skips off, Tuk hurrying behind her. Lo’ak pats Aonung on the back before following after his sisters. I sigh. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to see Neteyam again. What if he doesn’t return to our lessons? Should I sneak out again? Risk being caught?

“Sister?” Aonung asks. Rotxo peers curiously at me from beside him. “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” I smile at him, it hurts my face to do it but I do. I haven’t told him anything that happened. I just said that our parents freaked out over nothing. That he had nothing to worry about. That I’m fine. I know he didn’t fully believe me but he knew better than to push me. 

Aonung shrugs before challenging Rotxo to a race. They dive in the water and disappear under the waves. I should return to my pod where my parents are expecting me. Eclipse is soon, and after the trouble I got in, I can’t risk being late. But my rebellious streak still burns through me. I keep hearing Neteyam’s voice in my head, We already broke two rules, what’s a few more?

I’m so lost in thought that I don’t realize someone’s walked up beside me until he speaks. 

“Hey.” I whip my head to the side to find Issak standing beside me. He’s tall with light blue skin and a spear in his hand. His black hair curls around his temples. Issak and I were friends as children. Always swimming after each other and exploring. Our parents used to say that we were destined for eachother. Before everything happened. Before– no. I can’t think about that. 

“Issak,” I say, surprise evident in my voice. “What is it?”

He laughs, the sound rumbles from within him. A familiar sound, one I’ve heard many times before. “I’m just saying hello. Can I not say hello?”

I don’t respond and he tilts his head at me. “How is training the forest kids?”

I roll my eyes and start walking towards my pod. That’s what he wants to talk about? A million memories flash through my mind, mostly of things I want to forget. His footsteps vibrate on the path behind me. 

“Wait,” he says as he places a hand on my arm. “I didn’t mean that. I just want to see how you’re doing.”

“You care now?”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been busy and I… well I heard something about you.”  Dread curls in my stomach. I already know what he’s about to say. He keeps his hand on my arm. His four webbed fingers feel so different from Neteyam’s five soft ones.

 “Did you steal the special alcohol? The ones we use for celebration?” 

The whole village really does know. I try not to groan. “No, I didn’t.” I move to push past him but he places his other hand on my shoulder, blocking me. 

“I’m not judging. We did things we shouldn’t have back when…” he shrugs. “Anyway, can you grab some alcohol for me? Who knows when the Tulkun will be back and we can have a celebration.” 

I freeze. Things we shouldn’t have. I can’t deal with Issak right now. I forcefully shove his hands off me. “I can’t and I wouldn’t,” I reply sharply.

He tries to grab me again. “Wait, that not why I wanted to–”

“Don’t touch me!”

Someone clears their throat behind me. Issak’s apologetic face turns into one of concern. Neytiri stands behind me, her eyes narrow on Issak. He gives her a curt nod before turning and leaving me. 

Neytiri watches his retreating back with distaste, as if she can sense his energy, before stepping toward me. Did she seek me out? My mouth goes dry. “Is Neteyam okay?”

Surprise flashes through her eyes. “He is fine. Out with his father.” 

Relief floods through me as Neytiri cocks her head to the side. “Are you alright?” 

I nod. It’s an easy lie– I’ve been telling everyone that I’m okay. That I’m not bothered by the clan spreading rumors and talking about me. And now Issak; is he going to bring up the past? On top of it all, is the deep ache in my heart, my longing to be with Neteyam. Just to speak with him and see his playful smile. Neytiri studies me, her intelligent eyes looking right into me. I’m convinced she can see my every thought. 

“I was looking for you,” she begins and drops her voice to a whisper. “Up on shore where the trees grow taller, three hours after eclipse. A good time for a ride.” 

What? I’m about to ask her a question but she walks away immediately, disappearing into the village as my people get ready for dinnertime. I look at the sky, eclipse has already begun, sending orange rays of light across the ocean. Three hours after? A ride? 

~~~

I feel stupid. I’ve walked further and higher than I ever have before; I went past the mangrove and palm trees until the ground began lifting up, towards the mountain. And there has been no sound other than my own footsteps. Maybe I misunderstood Neytiri. Maybe she was just sharing some random tidbit with me? I mean there is nothing up here to ride. 

Not that I would know, my people never come up here, everything we need is in the ocean and on the shore. I’m starting to get cold, the night sky glistening above me as I stare at the unfamiliar treetops. The ground feels strange between my toes. That’s it, I misunderstood, and I’m going home. 

I’m about to leave when the ground crunches behind me. I whip around, suddenly scared in this unknown territory. Neteyam stands in front of me and pushes a wooden woven headband onto his head.

“Neteyam,” I breathe, feeling the air rushes out of my lungs. He takes two steps towards me and I run at him, throwing my arms around his shoulders. He stumbles backwards at the force of my embrace but quickly recovers. His strong arms encircle me, warming my chilled skin. He buries his face in my neck and inhales. 

All my worries and anxieties disappear, they vanish right from me, as they always do when I’m with him. Neither of us speak, we simply enjoy the other’s presence. After a few moments, we pull out of our embrace. 

Neteyam grabs my hand. “I wasn’t sure she would do it.” 

“Do what?” 

“My mom. I implied that I didn’t want to be alone tonight but I wasn’t sure if she understood. Definitely wasn’t sure if she would tell you.” 

I squeeze his hand. “She told me. Guess there’s one person who supports us.” 

“She likes you.” 

I hold back my surprise. Neytiri, badass warrior, likes me? I laugh in disbelief. “I think she just wants you to be happy.” 

A playful smile grows on Neteyams lips and he nudges my side. “Oh, you think you make me happy, huh?”

“As a matter of fact,” I nudge him back, “I think I do.” 

He laughs, his shoulders jiggle with the motion. It’s a sweet sound, almost addicting, like a perfect melody you just want to capture and listen to over and over. His whole face changes when he laughs, he seems so relaxed. I’m staring at him, I know I am. He notices and smiles at me, no playfulness— just a genuine smile. 

“You make me very happy,” he whispers. I shrug and make a face that says, I knew it. He rolls his eyes and starts rubbing his fingers in small circles on my hand. “But, my mom does like you. She said you have a strong heart.” 

I’ve never heard that expression. “What does it mean?”

“It means…” He leans towards me and kisses me cheek. His soft lips brush my skin as his scent fills my nose; saltwater and something muskier, like the wood of a forest. “You are brave.” He pulls away and moves to my other cheek. “And kind.” He kisses me again, causing heat to rise to my face. He inches his face up to my forehead. “And full of life.” His lips brush my forehead and I lean into him. I close my eyes as his arms wrap around me. He puts his head down so his forehead meets mine. 

Our breath mixes together in front of us. I open my eyes to find him looking at me, drinking in every aspect of my face. “And beautiful. A beautiful soul.” 

My breath catches in my throat. No one has ever said anything like that to me. I stare back into his eyes, feeling my heartbeat ferociously in my chest. I can’t believe how amazing he is. My mind goes quiet when I’m around him, like it’s finally at peace. A million words stumble through my mind but all I can say is, “That’s not me. That’s you.” 

He shakes his head, his forehead rubbing against mine. “It’s us.” 

I grin, my first real smile in awhile. Neteyam’s pupils widen as he looks at me. He pulls his forehead away and tugs my hand. “I want to show you something,” he says before tightening his grip on my hand running deeper into the mountainside. 

We run for a little until we reach a cliff. Palm trees cover the side of it but in the center, is an ikran. I gasp at the sight of it. It’s colorful wings, a strong neck, and beady eyes. The ikran grasps the side of the cliff, its beak beckoning to Neteyam. The ocean glistens from below. 

Neteyam watches me absorb this sight, his hand never leaving mine. After a moment he says, “I want you to meet someone.” 

Neteyam walks up to the ikran and makes a sound. The ikran behinds their head, rubbing against Neteyam’s strong chest. He rubs the ikran’s head lovingly before motioning for me to join him. I walk slowly closer to him, nervousness spreading through my body. I’ve never been so close to an ikran before. 

Neteyam grabs his hair and connects it to his ikran, making tsaheylu. The ikran’s eyes focus on me as they bend their head, inviting me to pet. I reach my hand out steadily and stroke Neteyam’s ikran. His ikran looks at me curiously as I continue to run my hand down his scales. 

Neteyam smoothly jumps onto his ikran’s back, settling his foot into a grove on the side of his saddle. He sticks his hand out to me. “Come on.” 

“No, no,” I say unsurely. “I’ve never flown.”

“It’s amazing. The view is…” 

“You go, I’ll wait here.” 

Neteyam looks at me, a smirk growing on his lips. “Are you scared, ocean girl?” 

I stand up straight. “No, I’m not. I just prefer not to be way up in the sky.” 

He laughs and shakes his outreached hand. “Come with me. I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

I swallow, doubts swarming in my mind. What if someone saw us? Neteyam’s hand glows in the dark, that gorgeous blue. Screw it. I take his hand and he pulls me up onto his ikran with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. I settle in behind him, my legs straddling his hips. 

“Not too high, forest boy,” I begin as Neteyam shoots his ikran straight up into the air. A scream hurdles out of my mouth as I throw my arms around his waist and hold on as tightly as possible. The wind whips against my face, causing my eyes to water. My heart beats wildly. We are flying completely straight up. “Neteyam!” I yell in his ear. 

I think he’s laughing but I can’t hear him over the roar of the wind. His shoulders shake rhythmically, as if he’s really enjoying this. I squeeze my eyes shut. I shouldn’t have agreed to this. His ikran goes flat. It happens in an instant, one moment we are skyrocketing upwards and now we are smoothly flying in a straight line. 

Neteyam pats my thigh. “You can open your eyes,” he says softly. 

I open them slowly and observe the view. The ocean looks like a dark blanket from up here. I can see the surf like white glaze across the sand. Our village looks so small. The night sky seems so close and the glow from it seems to radiate into my soul. I breathe deeply, feeling the beauty and magic of Pandora. 

Then I notice Neteyam staring at me. I take my hand off his waist and smack him in the arm. “You skxawng!” I yell. “You could’ve killed me!” 

“You wouldn’t have died… maybe just fallen in mid-air for a little…”

I smack again causing him to laugh. “I said not too high!” 

“But then you wouldn’t see this,” he replies and motions to the beautiful view beneath us. “Besides, I would’ve caught you.”

“Mhm,” I mumble as I lean my head forward and relax it on his shoulder. He continues to fly his ikran. We circle high above the village, over the cliffs, and past the reefs. His body warms mine against the wind as I absorb the feelings of flying. It feels like true freedom. I’m glad he showed me this. 

“Hey,” I whisper to him. He turns his head over his shoulder and looks at me. “When the Tulkun come, I want to introduce you to my spirit sister.” 

His lips break apart into a wide smile. “I’d like that.” He places a kiss on my forehead. I wrap my arms tighter around him, enjoying the feeling of my body pressed against his. He places his hand on my leg, his fingers wrapping around my thigh. I wish I could stay just like this forever. 

~~~

I sit on my ilu, absorbing the daylight as the ocean water skims my legs. The Sully kids, my siblings, and me, all sit on our ilu’s in a circle. Our lessons had begun early today but I didn’t mind. Neteyam is here. I had a feeling Neytiri said something to Jake about letting him come. I owe her so many thanks.

He’s right next to me, his skin reflecting the light from the water. I try not to stare. We’ve been keeping us a secret, especially from our families. But it’s hard. I find myself always gravitating towards him. He always looks at me from the corner of his eye. Or he’ll playfully try and grab my tail when no one is looking. Except, Lo’ak and Tsireya saw him this morning and they shared a knowing look. 

“What should we do next?” Aonung asks the group as we float on the surface of the water, the village behind us. 

“Let’s keep diving!’ Tuk cries from her ilu next to Kiri. 

“Argh, not again Tuk,” Lo’ak says and rolls his eyes.

“You never want to do what I wanna do,” Tuk pouts. 

“You always want to do lame things. That’s why you always follow us around.” 

“No I don’t!” Tuk says angrily. 

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam’s stern voice comes out. “Don’t start.” 

Lo’ak grumbles something under his breath as the others begin talking about other things to do. I giggle softly. Neteyam’s voice is so much deeper when he is trying to be stern. He looks over at me, hearing my laugh. He narrows his eyes at me like he knows what I’m laughing about. 

His ilu swims into mine causing me to jerk forward. I gasp and look up at him. He shrugs with a look on his face that says, I didn’t do it. I accusingly shake my head at him before telling my ilu to swim into his. Just before our animals connect, he dodges away. 

“Too slow, ocean girl,” he says confidently, an arrogant grin sneaking onto his face.

Oh he’s gonna eat his words. I’m just about to tell my ilu to swim right into his when an all too familiar voice speaks. 

“Hello.” 

My stomach drops. I turn around to see Issak swimming right up to us. Aonung and Tsireya wave at him. If only they knew… 

Kiri and Tuk watch him curiously as he joins our circle in the waves. Lo’ak and Neteyam both assess him, trying to figure him out. Issak greets my siblings before turning his gaze to me. 

“Can I speak to you?” 

“I’m busy.”

He smiles at me, his charmer smile. “It will only be a moment.” Neteyam’s gaze sharpens at Issak’s expression. 

I nod. I can’t turn him down without getting questions from my siblings. Issak motions with his head for me to follow and turns from the group. Neteyam watches me, his eyes guarded. “I’ll be right back,” I say. 

As I swim out of the circle, Lo’ak’s voice floats after me, “Yo, he looks badass. Better watch out, bro.”

“Shut up,” Neteyam responds, an edge in voice. 

I shake my head. Issak is far from badass. He waits for me a little ways from the group, his head bowed down as he pats his ilu. Every nerve in my body is telling me to turn around. Issak is a reminder of too many things. Things I don’t want to remember. He looks up as I reach him, his blue eyes twinkling dangerously. 

“Two visits in one day,” I say flatly. 

“You’re a lucky girl,” he smirks. 

I roll my eyes and look back at the group. Neteyam is watching us. I can see the tension in his shoulders from here. He asks Aonung a question. Aonung turns and looks at Issak before beginning to respond to Neteyam. Great, who knows what he’s telling him. 

“Got a thing for the tree lover?” 

I snap my gaze back to Issak, anger brewing in my gut. “What do you want?” 

Issak sighs and looks at the sky. I bite my tongue to keep from saying something rude. I look back at the group, Aonung is still talking to Neteyam. Lo’ak inches closer to them, straining to hear their conversation. Tsireya watches me worriedly. Neteyam’s eyebrows clench together and his eyes never leave me. 

“I don’t have all day,” I snap at Issak. 

“I miss you.” 

My jaw drops open. Issak reaches his hand out and puts it on my shoulder. I’m completely frozen. I can’t believe the nerve of him. He starts to rub my shoulder, his webbed fingers feeling foreign on my skin. 

He swims closer to me on his ilu so his face is right next to mine. I don’t move. Too many thoughts swirl through my head. He leans forward and says, “There’s things I want to talk to you about. About the Sully’s and the sky people. They—”

“Hey,” a stern voice says. My head snaps up at the familiar sound. Neteyam. He straddles his ilu, leaning forward slightly with a certain sharpness to his features as he stares at Issak’s hand on me. “What’s going on?” 

Oh, no. I shove Issak’s hand off. “Nothing we were–”

“Just chatting about the past,” Issak cuts me off with a smirk. He slowly places his hand back in his lap. “Our history.” He looks at me and winks before saying, “I’ll see you around.”

He leaves, dipping beneath the surface of the water, before I get a chance to respond. Lo’ak and Aonung watch from a distance, surprise coating their faces. Neteyam swims in front of me, his ilu greets mine. He raises a faint eyebrow at me. “So, who’s that?”

“No one,” I reply, not wanting to talk about Issak. 

Neteyam looks at the empty space where Issak had sat. He turns his head towards me, his golden eyes a darker shade than usual. “I don’t like him.” 

I laugh. The sound escapes my lips before I have a chance to stop it. Neteyam’s eyebrows turn downwards. “I’m serious. He has bad energy, ocean girl.” 

“Jealous?” 

Neteyam scoffs before glancing at me shyly. “No.” 

I nudge his shoulder. “Mhm, so if I went to see him–”

“No.” Neyetam closes his eyes like he cannot fathom the thought. 

“You are jealous!” 

“I’m not! I just looked over and saw his hand on you and…” He trails off, a small blush creeping onto his cheeks. I find his hand from beneath the waves and slip my fingers through his. 

“And what?”

“And I wanted to rip his hand off.” 

“Neteyam!” 

He sighs and squeezes my hand. “You can do anything you want. I’m not jealous.” He stares at me, his golden eyes growing darker by the second. “But if he lays a hand on you again, I don’t care who I have to go through or what rules I break, I will make sure it’s the last thing he ever does.” 

My mind goes blank. Neyetam’s gaze is so intense, I know he isn’t kidding. Something flutters in my stomach and spreads throughout my whole body. 

I struggle to find my voice and my words come out in one breath, “Sounds intense.”

He leans into my ear and whispers, “You can’t even begin to imagine.” 

I’m breathless as I stare into his darkening gaze. I’m not even sure what he means but his husky voice repeats over and over in my mind. I want to kiss him, reach out and grab his shoulders. But we’re right in front of the village, anyone could see us. As if he read my thoughts, he says, “Tonight. Same spot, same time.” 

I immediately nod, causing a curly strand of hair to fall in front of my face. He reaches out slowly and twists the hair around his finger before tucking it gently behind my ear. I can’t help but smile softly at the gesture. His fingers slide across my skin longingly. He pulls away and smiles before swimming towards the village. 

I watch his retreating back, how his dark blue skin glistens in the daylight. He’s so beautiful it makes my heart ache and makes my mind go blank. My stomach flutters at the thought of seeing him again, of flying above the ocean, and kissing him. 

Later that night, we went flying. I sit on the back of his ikran and allow myself to get lost in the sky and in his arms. And after hours of flying, we settle into the sand and whisper to each other. We share kisses beneath the night sky. His body keeps me warm and protects me. I feel so safe with him. His shoulder relaxes and my favorite smile of his spreads across his face. It’s a lazy smile, his most relaxed expression. 

He tells me things he’s never told anyone before and I do the same. Our noses touch as we laugh at each other and with each other. I feel like I could let all my walls down. And I almost do. Each time he gives me that smile. Or our lips collide. I want to tell him everything. Even what happened back with Issak. All the things we found out. But each time I open my mouth, ready to spill, nothing ever comes out. 

Neteyam holds me on top of the sandy cliff as we lay on the ground, his ikran settling in beside us. Neteyam’s breathing begins to slow and his eyes drop shut. I watch his calm face, so serene in his sleep. Everything will be okay, I tell myself but each time I close my eyes– I see Issak’s face with a lethal look in his eyes.

Thank you for all the support!!

I tried some different things with this part so let me know what you think. I'm not sure how I feel about it

Part 4 there will be: Tulkun returning, a celebration, and secrets revealed.

Do you guys like fluff or more angsty type scenes with Neteyam? Let me know what you want to read!!!! Also let me know if you like new characters or not (be honest lol) Thanks again<3

#neyetam #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam fanfic #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam sully #avatar 2 #avatar fanfiction #avatar 2 fanfic #neteyam imagine #neteyam fluff #neteyam x you #neytiri #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak sully #jake sully #sully family #aonung #tsireya

[stars-for-circe]

Student teacher!Abby Headcannons

Part 1, Part 2

tags / cw: AFAB reader, reader has a sister, fluff, making out, swearing, smut, mentions of tribbing, mentions of oral sex, mentions of fingering, carnival date, student teacher!Abby

Student teacher!Abby who spends the next fortnight absolutely enthralled with the image of you - butterflies in her stomach that she had met you once, and storm clouds over her head that she had met you once. God, how the fuck could she forget to ask for your number like that? I mean what was she, some shy middle schooler confronting her crush??

…Pretty much.

Student teacher!Abby who tries her hardest to keep on teaching despite the fact, distracting herself with making activities for each science class and staying later than usual to mark books each day. But Abby who, upon noticing the students trail out of the class as the main teacher packs up, realises she had once again stayed until pickup, could now only think of you, and of how the two of you had met.

Student teacher!Abby who realises that this is how you two met, and holy shit this is how you two could need again. And just like that, 2 weeks of distracting herself break down, you now on the forefront of her mind once more. And she thanks whatever god is up there that your little sister happens to be the student she is closest and talks with the most, because trying to find her solely to ask when you may be picking her up again will hopefully seem less suspicious and fruity than she thought.

Student teacher!Abby who wastes no time darting out of the building and to the cul-de-sac next to the school - work be damned - as she tries to find your little sister. If she’s fast enough, she’ll be able to catch her before she gets picked up by her dad.

Student teacher!Abby who freezes when she notices what car the girl gets into, belonging not to some random middle aged man, but a woman - you. And initially, Abby contemplates turning around and heading back into the classroom before anyone sees her. But then she watches as your head turns in her direction, following where your sister is now pointing at, and she has no choice now but to walk up to your car and talk to you both.

Student teacher!Abby who walks up to the drivers side while calling out your name and is met with a shocked but seemingly happy look from you (and on your end, you’re just all giddy that your sister’s smoking hot teacher remembered you)

Student teacher!Abby who doesn’t know what to say after finally meeting you again and groans internally because fuck, she didn’t think this far, trying to save herself by engaging in small talk - the traffic, how your sister is going on class, the goddamn weather even-

“-A Date”

“…..what?”

“We-” you clear your throat.

“We should go on a date, Abby”

Student teacher!Abby who agrees entirely too fast (much to your amusement) thankful that you interrupted her with your proposition. But then she realises that you hasn’t decided on where and when. Nervously, her eyes flit around for any ideas - because there’s no fucking way she’s taking you on a boring coffee date - and she noticed the Ferris wheel in the distance, about 7 blocks away.

Student teacher!Abby who asks if you like carnivals, to which you let out a breathy laugh at what she’s insinuating before nodding. She leans over the side of your car, resting her arms against the roof while smiling.

“Uh, is Saturday good for you?”

“Mhm. I can meet you there at around 6”

“You got it, babygirl”

Student teacher!Abby who smirks at the reaction that gets out of you as she stands back to let you drive out, noticing your sister giving her a thumbs up from the backseat (that makes her laugh) and once you’re a ways away she drops the whole “cool” facade and panics because holyshitshejustscoredadatewithyou.

Student teacher!Abby who spends the rest of the week thinking about what she’ll wear and say and what the both of you will do at the carnival.

Student teacher!Abby who keeps bugging your sister during recess on your favourite food and favourite stuffed animals in the hopes that she can win you those prizes, to the point where the poor first grader gets so fed up that she rolls her eyes at her teacher’s antics.

“I heard my sister say to her friend that she’s ‘really gay’ for you or something. I dunno what that means but I don’t think you need to worry that much, Miss Abby”

Student teacher!Abby who chokes on her coffee at that.

Student teacher!Abby who waits for you at the carnival entrance, checking the time every other second and nervously shifting her stance until you arrive. And when you do, it takes a moment for Abby to remember how to breathe because of how beautiful you look.

Student teacher!Abby who makes a joke about how you got all dressed up for her and you playfully push her away while laughing as the two of you walk into the carnival grounds.

Student teacher!Abby who takes you to the food stands first, asking what you want to eat & drink before buying it for you - there’s no way she’d let you pay for anything tonight and she makes that quite clear, much to your protest.

Student teacher!Abby who find you both a spot to sit down at before setting down your food and locking eyes with you from across the table.

“Nice view?” She jokes.

“Yea, actually” Abby lets out a huff of laughter before shaking her head. You join in before repeating what you said.

“I’m serious! Abby you’re like, really pretty”

“Yea well, your sister already told me you thought that”

Student teacher!Abby who breaks down into an even bigger fit of laughter as she watches your face turn into one of shock and embarrassment as you promise that your sister won’t ever see the light of day again.

Student teacher!Abby who really enjoys talking to you as you both eat, hanging onto every little thing you say. You share that your sister is actually adopted, and that you moved to this city only a couple years ago, and she shares that her full name is actually Abigail, and that she wants to teach in a high school later on.

Student teacher!Abby who keeps on talking with you long after the food has been eaten, until you both agree to check out all the rides and games.

Student teacher!Abby who lets you drag her to the high striker game, where you have to hit the hammer down as hard as you can to win the prize. She lets you go first, and watches as the puck makes it fairly high up the tower before falling again, winning you a small rubber duck.

Student teacher!Abby who goes right after you, hitting the hammer down hard. But this time the puck rises all the way to the top, winning her the biggest prize. She looks at the staff member who stares at her incredulously before handing over the giant stuffed teddy bear.

Student teacher!Abby who immediately gives it to you, promising that this is only just the first thing she’ll win you.

Student teacher!Abby who plays almost every other game and goes on all the rides with you that night, and walks out of the carnival with you while you’re holding the largest stuffed animal collection on earth.

Student teacher!Abby who follows you to your car and helps put all of the stuffed animals in the trunk. And holy shit, she tries not to stare at your ass as you bend over to place them inside. She helps you close the door before leaning against the car, looking at you in thought.

Student teacher!Abby who doesn’t speak at first, the only noises being from the carnival and the crickets chirping in the car park. She traces your features with her eyes - still adjusting to the dark night compared to the bright lights of the carnival - before asking softly if you had fun.

Student teacher!Abby whose gaze sinks down from your eyes, lower, lower, as you match her tone and say that yes, you did, and that you’d love to do this again.

Student teacher!Abby who is too busy glancing at your lips to realise that you’re doing the exact same thing, until you whisper a soft “c’mere” as you pull her by her shirt and kiss her hard, lips moving in tandem with eachother as her hands trail up and down your back, drawing small noises out of you.

Student teacher!Abby who pins you against your car and pulls away to take a breath, before kissing you once more.

Student teacher!Abby who groans as she feels you tugging lightly on her braid, moving her kisses down your jawline and to your throat. And in between every kiss and suck and mark she leaves there, she asks lowly, her place? Or yours?

Student teacher!Abby who can’t for the life of her keep her hands off of you as she drives your car to her apartment, pinning you to the car, and the elevator, and her front door as you make your way in. And when you pin her to the wall of her hallway, she lets out a surprised gasp into your mouth before telling you to jump up.

Student teacher!Abby who waits until your legs are wrapped around her waist until moving her hands to your ass and walking to her bedroom. And maybe she was a little rough when she slammed her door shut and threw you on her bed, but Jesus Christ did it you on.

Student teacher!Abby who made sure you came so many times that night, until you couldn’t feel your legs afterwards. Making sure that you would remember how her tongue and fingers felt in you, against you, on you.

Student teacher!Abby who let you take the lead after she had her way with you, letting you touch her just as much. And the sight of you, all beautifully fucked out and breathy as you rubbed your clit on hers, would now be forever imprinted on her brain.

Student teacher!Abby who made sure to clean you both up afterwards, and then pull you on top of her to sleep. Well, not before sleepily making out with you again, but cmon, it’s not like she could resist.

Student teacher!Abby who wakes up before you, watching how the early days of sunshine scatter across your face. She traces circles on your naked back until you wake up. Groggily, you regain your bearings and remember where you are as you look at Abby and smile

And finally,

Student teacher!Abby who thanks the fucking lord that she got moved to the elementary school to teach.

#the last of us 2 #abby anderson the last of us 2 #tlou2 #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #the last of us #abby anderson x you #abby anderson smut #historians say they were roommates #wlw #sapphic #lesbian #bisexual

[magicfootballstuff]

Dirty Little Secret - part 6 (leila ouahabi x reader)

Summary: A love story about secrets, flirty messages, football rivalries, and useless lesbians who don’t know how to communicate. And it all starts with one badly timed challenge in the Champions League.

Leila Ouahabi x Arsenal!reader

Part 6/?

Read other parts here.

———

You’re a European Champion.

You don’t really know what to do with that information.

To be honest, after the first twenty four hours that pass in a hungover blur, you end up on a bit of a downer. You should be delighted, riding the high of being the first England team to win a major trophy in fifty-six years, but after two glorious months in camp with a group of girls you’re now bonded with for life, returning to your hometown for a couple of weeks before pre-season is a dose of reality that’s just a little bit too big to swallow.

You’re happy to see your family, of course. You’ve spent most of the summer away from them with only limited visits while you were in camp. But after the best summer of your life with a football at your feet, it takes all of about three days for you to be itching to get back on the football pitch again.

A few days into your two weeks off, a few of the girls get together for what is part post-Euro reunion and part farewell dinner for Georgia, who departs for Munich the next day. It’s a mixed group - a few Lionesses and some of the girls from Manchester City - but it’s the familiar dark hair at the end of the table that catches your eye, deep in conversation with somebody else you don’t know.

You’re surprised to see Leila who, apart from having her own Euro hopes dashed by Georgia’s extra time winner, has no reason to know Georgia.

You take a seat next to Lauren, who notices you looking at the two girls at the far end of the table.

“Oh, that’s Laia and Leila,” she explains. “I invited them. They’re still settling into the team and there’s so many City girls here, I thought it would be nice for them to get to know people a bit better.”

Leila must feel your eyes on her because it’s at that exact moment that she looks up and her dark gaze meets yours. There’s no change to her expression, no giveaway to anybody else that you know each other except for the fact that her eyes linger on you for longer than they would if you were just strangers who happened to make eye contact, until she finally turns back to her conversation with Laia.

You feel a rush of giddiness go straight to your head, blocking out all the sounds around you as you continue to look at Leila, admiring the sharp angles of her side profile. It almost feels like the Arnold Clark Cup all over again, having this secret that nobody else around you knows. You enjoyed your time in Barcelona with Leila and getting to be all coupley with her in front of her old teammates, but you’d forgotten how much of a turn-on the thrill of secrecy could be.

———

As the evening goes on, you don’t forget about Leila - how could you, when she is right there and looks so damn good - but you get a little distracted by everything else. There are enough Lionesses present that means you spend a lot of time talking about the Euros, reminiscing over the best summer of your life, then because tonight is about Georgia leaving, you end up talking about old times at City. It’s been years since you played for them, a scrawny teenager playing alongside Keira and Georgia, all three of you with big dreams and no idea that you would one day become European Champions together. But even as you reminisce, there’s always a part of you that’s aware of Leila’s presence at the other end of the table and you can’t help but glancing at her throughout the night.

“All us OG City girls are gradually leaving the nest,” Georgia says, smiling fondly at you and Keira. “I wonder who’ll be next.”

You notice that Keira is suspiciously quiet and has suddenly taken a deep interest in the ice cubes at the bottom of her empty glass. With the performances she’s just put on at the Euros, you wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got interest from other clubs too.

“City’s got some new blood now though,” you say, your eyes wandering to Leila once more. “Not that it’ll matter, Arsenal will still beat City this season.”

Predictably in a room full of mostly City players, your comment causes outrage. Arsenal and City are due to play each other soon for the first fixture of the new season and you always enjoy the rivalry against your old club. And with Leila on the other team, you’ve got extra incentive to go out there and put on a show this time.

You let them banter with you for a moment. Even Georgia, technically no longer a City player, takes great joy in slandering Arsenal. 

When the conversation finally moves on, your eyes wander back to Leila, and you tune out the voices around you as you stare, mentally trying to figure out if there’s a way you can subtly change seats to be closer to her without alerting the entire group to your motives.

There isn’t, and Leila chooses that exact moment to meet your gaze while her lips are still wrapped around the straw in her drink. She lets the straw slip out of her mouth but you still get a glimpse of the pink tip of her tongue and there’s no way in hell you can pay attention to whatever conversation is going on around you now.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom, anything to give yourself a chance to get away and recompose yourself, and thankfully they’re all too busy laughing at something Georgia is saying to pay any attention to the flush of your cheeks, nor the way that Leila’s gaze follows you as you go.

You hear somebody else enter the bathroom as you flush the toilet and when you exit the cubicle Leila is standing at the sinks checking her appearance in the mirror. Her dark eyes find yours in the reflection, and her mouth twitches in a smirk of recognition.

“Hi,” she says.

You glance around the bathroom, checking that all three stalls are empty, before you approach the sink to wash your hands and reply, “Hi yourself. How are you finding Manchester?”

“I like it. It’s a nice city.”

“At least the weather’s been nice since you got here. Just wait until it rains every day.”

You walk over to the paper towel dispenser to dry your hands and Leila turns around, leaning back against the sink to look at you.

“Everything is always about the weather to you English people,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Too hot, too cold.”

“What can I say - we like to complain.”

“Are you going to complain right now?” Leila asks.

The air in the bathroom suddenly feels a lot thicker, the way that Leila is watching you as you dispose of the balled up paper towel, coupled with the teasing lilt to her tone, reminding you of just how attracted you are to her.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Actually, there is one thing I want to complain about,” you say, taking a couple of steps closer to Leila.

“What‘s that?” Leila asks, her eyebrows crinkling together in a frown.

“I want to complain about the fact that we’re alone in this completely deserted bathroom and you haven’t kissed me yet.”

“You haven’t kissed me either,” Leila points out.

“Is that an invitation?” you challenge her.

Your words have the desired effect of provoking a reaction from Leila, because her eyes flash in defiance and she retaliates, “I want to complain about how annoying-”

You don’t give Leila the chance to finish her complaint, because you grab her by the lapels of her jacket and pull her in for a kiss. She lets out a surprised little grunt when your lips collide with hers, but melts into the kiss quickly, her hands finding your hips as her lips settle into a familiar movement against your own.

You only realise now that you’re here, kissing Leila in a secluded bathroom like your life depends on it, that it’s actually been months since you last did this. In all your focus for the Euros, the hard work and the euphoria, you’d sort of forgotten that you hadn’t actually kissed Leila since you bid your goodbyes to each other in the departure lounge of the Barcelona airport after your brief visit at the end of last season. Not even after your game against each other during the tournament did you kiss.

And with the way Leila kisses you, stealing the air from your mouth with such hunger, you vow never to go another three months without kissing her again.

“I’ve missed you,” you mumble against her mouth, when you have to draw back for breath, to save yourself from passing out from sheer lack of oxygen caused by Leila’s kiss. “I’ve missed this.”

Leila’s hand finds the back of your head and she uses it to pull you closer, not for another kiss, but to rest your head against her shoulder as she wraps her other arm around your back. You snake your own arms around her waist, burying your face into her neck and savouring the feeling of her arms around you, not wanting this moment to end.

“I’ve missed this too,” Leila murmurs, her fingers stroking through your hair.

She’s right, it’s this that you’ve been craving. Not the kissing or the sex, though you’ve spent more time thinking about that in the nearly three months since you last slept together than you’d care to admit, but everything else too. The intimacy of being held, of having somebody to share the little moments with, the ability to go from teasing each other about the weather to making out against a sink to cuddling like this, with each of those things feeling just as natural as the last.

And maybe, just maybe, all of that will be easier to facilitate than it was when you lived in different countries.

“Stay with me tonight?” Leila asks, feeling her voice rumble beneath your cheek as much as you hear the words.

You’d been planning on getting a taxi back to your parents’ house on the outskirts of Manchester, or maybe crashing with Lauren or Keira if it ends up being a late one tonight, but that was before you knew that you’d see Leila tonight. Now that this offer is on the table, there’s nowhere else you want to spend the night.

“Of course.”

———

Waking up the next morning, there are two things that you feel. The first is comfort, Leila’s warm body wrapped around your own with your hips nestled back against her own, feeling happy and well-rested after a night of good sleep in her arms.

The second is the desperate urge to pee.

You try to extract yourself from Leila’s embrace without disturbing her, but Leila only tightens her arms around you to stop you from leaving and mumbles words that you don’t understand in sleepy Spanish.

“Leila,” you murmur, trying to wriggle free. “Leila, I need to pee. Where’s your bathroom?”

Leila reluctantly lets you leave her arms and mutters in Spanish again, before she says in English, “Left.”

You slip out of bed and leave Leila’s bedroom, following her directions by finding the bathroom through the next door to the left.

When you’ve been to the toilet and freshened up a little with some cold water to your face and running your fingers through your mussed hair, you exit the bathroom and immediately stop in your tracks when you see somebody sitting at the dining table eating breakfast and drinking coffee. You think you recognise her as one of Leila’s new City teammates, though her name slips your mind, but you wonder if you really walked right past her without noticing her on your way to the bathroom.

“Hi,” she greets you, an amused smile gracing her lips. “I’m Deyna.”

You glance at Leila’s bedroom door, which stands slightly ajar as you left it, then introduce yourself to Deyna.

“Arsenal, right?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you nod. “And you’re at City with Leila?”

“Teammates. Roommates.” Deyna pauses, then adds, “Just regular mates.”

“Cool,” you say, unsure whether you’re supposed to continue to make smalltalk with Deyna out of politeness, or if it’s acceptable to make your excuses and return to Leila’s room.

Luckily you’re saved at that exact moment by Leila herself, who emerges from her bedroom with sleep-tousled hair to investigate what’s going on.

“Oh,” she says, when she sees Deyna. From the expression on her face, she’s as surprised to see Deyna as you are. She turns to you, then says, “This is Deyna.”

“She knows that already,” Deyna grins. “We were just getting to know each other.”

“Coffee?” Leila asks you, as she walks over to the kitchen units and grabs a couple of mugs out of a cupboard.

“Yes please,” you reply. At the table, Deyna’s attention is now on her phone as she eats, and you say to Leila, “You didn’t mention that you had a roommate.”

“Don’t worry, I’m a deep sleeper,” Deyna interjects, glancing up from the screen of her phone with a smirk gracing her lips.

Your cheeks burn red and Leila retaliates with what you can only assume is a string of Spanish expletives. 

Deyna apologises, mostly directing it at you, before she asks, “So how did you two meet?”

“Champions League,” Leila answers, busying herself over the coffee again.

“We played each other twice in the group stage last season,” you elaborate.

“I beat her twice,” Leila says, glancing across at you with a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“Leila got a yellow card for trying to break my legs.”

“I didn’t … it was an accident,” Leila insists. “It was passion.”

“Strange way to flirt, but okay,” Deyna teases Leila.

“That’s what I said!” you exclaim in agreement.

Leila wanders over with two steaming mugs of coffee, one of which she offers out to you, and she leans in to press a quick kiss to your lips as she mumbles, “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

You thank her for the coffee, bringing it to your lips and taking the tiniest sip from the mug, letting out a satisfied hum.

The only other time Leila has made you coffee was when you went to visit her in Barcelona, but the coffee is perfect, like heaven touching your tongue.

“You remembered how I take my coffee?” you ask.

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Thank you, it’s perfect.”

The domesticity of it is nice, as if you’re existing in a bubble where only you and Leila matter.

Until Deyna interrupts your moment.

“Go and be cute in your room,” she tells Leila, dismissing you both with a wave and a roll of her eyes. “I’m trying to eat.”

Leila nudges you back towards her bedroom and you soon find yourself nestled against Leila’s side again, propped up against the headboard with steaming mugs of coffee cradled in your hands.

“You promised me a tour?” she says.

“Of Manchester?”

Leila nods eagerly.

“You’re gonna have to wait a bit longer,” you tell Leila apologetically. “I can’t hang out today.”

The disappointment that flashes across Leila’s face is almost enough to have you reaching for your phone to call your agent to cancel your plans for the day.

“I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be going back to my old junior club today. Helping out with some training, taking photos with the kids, letting them see my medal. Inspiring the next generation and all that crap.”

“It’s not crap,” Leila assures you. “Well, maybe for me if it means we can’t hang out.”

“Didn’t know you were so clingy,” you tease her.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet,” Leila replies flirtatiously.

You smile across at her.

“And I can’t wait to find out.”

———

You return to London a couple of days later, regretfully without having seen Leila again since that morning at her flat, but you start to message each other more often. Not quite every day, but a few times a week, little things like talking about your days. It’s more familiar than it’s ever been before, with most of your conversations prior to the Euros being laced with flirtatious pictures and suggestive messages. But this is different - you talk about mundane things like training, or what you’re having for dinner, or the latest English slang words that Leila has learned from her new City teammates. 

But that doesn’t mean your relationship has lost any of its spark. It’s still flirty, especially because Arsenal’s first fixture of the new season is away at City. It reminds you a little bit of those first couple of encounters in the Champions League last season, bantering about the upcoming contest in a way you hope leads to sparks on and off the pitch.

And then the game gets cancelled. 

All that build-up, the jokes about yellow cards, the promises that you’d let Leila do whatever she wants to you if she let you score past her, falls away into nothing the moment that the game is called off.

You feel empty. And not just because football is your life and you’d been looking forward to the league starting up again, but because once the season starts you don’t know when you and Leila will both get time off at the same time. It might be months before you get to see each other again.

———

Two things happen when the season finally begins and September morphs into October.

The first is that you pick up a hamstring injury. It shouldn’t surprise you too much, given that you pretty much went straight from last season into the Euros, straight into pre-season. You’re in your prime as an athlete, but you’re not invincible. You work hard on your recovery, even if you’re a little bummed to be spending so much time in the gym and staying on the sidelines as the Champions League group stage begins.

The second thing that happens is that fifteen Spanish players, including Leila, step back from their national team in protest of their working conditions. You don’t know the details but you remember Leila alluding to some problems during the Euros, when she pointed out that talent alone doesn’t win Championships.

You don’t really know what you can do to support Leila, especially from London. The story blows up in the football media world and you imagine it must be particularly hard for Leila, being so far from Spain and away from most of the other girls involved, but you don’t know if there’s anything you can do or say to make it easier.

You eventually settle on messaging her a few hours after the story hits the headlines.

You Proud of you for standing up for the right thing! Always here if you want to talk about it or if you want a distraction instead?

Leila likes your message after a few hours but doesn’t reply.

The red heart that taunts you from the screen of your phone is something you’ll come to realise is probably the beginning of the end.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #leila ouahabi imagine #leila ouahabi x reader #dirty little secret

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

dbf!jake x innocent!reader (maybe who's still a virgin) and finding out he has a corruption kink i can't ...

i let this sit in my inbox untouched for so long because i couldn't decide whether or not i'm into it - but currently i'm experiencing something of a writer's block, soooo. i've decided to give it a try lmao

tw: dbf!jake has a corruption kink, reader is VERY innocent, it's not explicitly stated she's a virgin but it's very much implied, dom!jake, this is less smut and more talk actually but anyway, mentions of oral sex, also good girl

top gun masterlist | top gun blurbs

You pull back from Jake with wide eyes, panting - embarrassingly so - and clutching at his shirt, angling yourself away. He's turned on, you can feel it, can feel him, pressing into you, pressing against his jeans. And you're wet, you're soaked, you can feel that, too.

It hadn't even been supposed to go this far. It had been a kiss, just one, all sweet and intimate while you'd watched tv. And then there had been a second one. And a third. And somehow, you'd ended up in his lap, pulling at his hair and whining into his mouth. But the moment you rock against him and feel his bulge... You have to pull back.

"There's no rush, darling", he mutters, trailing his fingertips down your cheek and tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "I won't do anything you don't-"

"What if I do?", you breathe, clenching your hands into his shirt to keep them from trembling. You don't even know just why they're trembling - maybe because you're so nervous, or maybe because you're so turned on.

"You do?", Jake asks with raised eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

You bite down on your lip and nod.

"Are you really sure?", he asks again. "Because if you're not-"

"Fuck me, Jake", you breathe, your cheeks heating up, your breath quickening. God, had you really just said that? Had you- Holy shit, you'd really just said that. You'd never said anything like that. Never. You'd barely even come close to thinking it.

Jake's eyes widen. Then his hands tighten around your waist, so hard that you gasp out a breath.

"What did you say?", he mutters, dragging his fingers down to your hips. You chew on your lip and stare at the air next to his head. Anywhere else but at him. Anywhere else but at his eyes. There's no way you can repeat yourself. No fucking way. You can hardly believe you said it in the first place.

"I asked you a question, darling", Jake repeats, and even though you try your best not to look at him, not to see that grin tugging at his lips, you can hear it in his voice. "What did you say?"

"I-", you start, stop, and then take a deep breath. No, there's no way. Absolutely no way.

"Come on, speak up", he urges, his hands trailing lower and lower until his fingers circle against the bare skin of your thigh. His thumbs draw below the hem of your dress, then away again. "I know you can."

You dig your teeth into your lip and let your eyes flutter shut, trying to forget absolutely everything at all - the way his fingers feel, how hard he is, how wet you are - to ignore that this is really and truly happening. Pretending it's your imagination makes it a tad easier. A lot easier, if you're completely honest.

"Fuck me, Jake", you whisper, your breath catching.

His fingertips trail up, up, up your thighs-

"And now look at me", he says, his voice so low he's basically growling, not an ask, not even close, but a command, an order. If this is how he sounds at work, barking instructions left and right... "Look at me while you're asking me to fuck you."

"Jake-", you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut even harder. You can feel yourself growing wetter by the second. Fuck, his tone is sinful. And the way he's ordering you- But you just can't, you can't do it.

"Look at me", he repeats as he hooks his thumbs into your panties and tears another little gasp from your lips. Goddamn, you're so sweet. And there's something about your embarrassment, something about how you're unknowingly, unwillingly rocking your hips into his, something about how hard you're trying to not show your desperation, something about how at the very same time, you've already asked him to fuck you twice now.

You need him. It's obvious. And it's so fucking cute, it's adorable, how you both want and don't want to act on it. You're so unsure. And still-

Still, even despite all of your nervousness, you blink open your eyes and look at him, parted lips and flushed cheeks and all, your hands fisting his shirt. Because he's given you an order. And you follow his orders.

"Fuck me", you whisper, so quietly that he can just pick up on it.

His grin widens.

"Good girl", he rasps.

A moan tears from your tongue. Good girl. Holy shit. You'd only ever imagined hearing that, you'd never thought you'd actually get to. Which is why you never could have prepared for how hard it hits you - your legs clamping around his thighs, your eyes fluttering shut again, your hips bucking against his. Fuck.

Jake grunts as you rock so openly against him, his thumbs circling the bare skin below your panties, staggering into the inappropriate. It'd take him less than a moment to find out that you'd shaved this morning.

"Fuck me", you repeat, a little more confident now, and something about it steals his breath. "Please, Jake."

It takes eating you out and teaching you how to suck him off for him to understand just what about you affects him so much. He admits it in between desperate kisses a minute later - you deserve to know, to decide for yourself whether or not you've got a problem with it. You don't, of course, and he finds out a second later as you rock back against his hard-on and whine into his mouth. No, you certainly don't have a problem with it in the slightest.

#x reader #jake seresin x reader #dbf!jake seresin x reader #top gun #top gun x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun hangman #dbf!jake seresin #jake seresin smut

[lyomeii]

a familiar face

❁ warnings: yandere themes, platonic relationships, manipulation, reader doesn’t really care about people other than daniel and co., blood (but nothing to drastically)

❁ synopsis: after successfully getting out of the game, you thought that you would live a normal life after spending so much time struck inside that place. however, after years, something brought you back to lookism and this time, things appear to be more dangerous.

❁ request by anon! Hello! this is gonna be a Iong request. can I request platonic yandere dg with isekai sister? Lookis has a game that follow the arc and then for some reason she has to finish the game mission in order to get home the game give her a fighting ability too so after she finish the mission she'll leave the body and the body died after she goes back home she think all that experience was a dream and forget the game but to dg his sister the only one family that he have in this world has gone passed away a few years later she found the game again and get isekaid again and meet Daniel , because Daniel is nice boy he let her stay with him this is when Daniel moved out to his new school. Daniel is the first yandere she meet. Btw reader haven't read the webtoon and skip the storyline in game so can you imagines in the idol arc reader come to visit Daniel then there's this pink haired guy who for some reason creep her out so every time they meet by accident she always run the other side away from him, but it's not really accident because dg keep secretly watching her and his very pissed with the yandere men that she keep attracting ( basically all the looking men )

❁ a/n: this take longer to post :/ but here it is. sorry for being an inactive in recently days, I got a writing block and still having to finish some worlds related to college. and im not so proud of this one, I admit that, I got a little disappointed with this but I finished this since I catch up with lookism, so enjoy it.

❁ could be a dream, but the sensation of the blood running down your nose speaking different. turned out that your biggest fear has happened and now, you’ve been throw inside the world of lookism once again.

❁ this happened a few years ago as you’ve taken the role of a younger, but skeptical sister of james lee and lets say you life wasn’t easy back then. not only everyone knew about your existence and tried to attack you, but james himself brought you along to his meeting with his bosses and coworkers. you become a popular person by many gangs because of your older brother, becoming a living target.

❁ luckily, james and some of his allies were there to help you to getting out of those trouble that he got yourself into. one time, he took off a man’s eye who flirted you and another time, that blond friend of his beat a gangster who tried to pick on you while smiling at you. aside from the typical violence, everything was going fine if you only focused on your school life. well, you do have the capability of fighting others, but you are too lazy to do it and whatever you are ready to join a fight, james lee shows up from nowhere to fight in your place, so it’s really rare when you have to fight someone with a brother like him.

❁ with that in mind, your life was pretty easy. that’s why you live a ‘normal’ life as a high schooler until you got back to the real world. after concluding all the missions and extra stuff, you simply died. it was a painless process (thank god) since it happened once you were sleeping at home. and once you opened your eyes, you were back to your original world, where things went back to normal, at least for you since you expected this to just a dream or something else.

❁ what you didn’t expected is this whole experience was indeed real for the characters. james found your lifeless body once he returned home with goo and gun with food, this whole situation almost made him lose his mind and almost destroy everything in his way, but he keep it himself and requested time to be alone for a while in order to grieve and also to take care of your body. it’s took years to him finally get over it, yet he keeps visiting your grave almost weekly with flowers in his hands alongside foods that you once enjoyed.

❁ he still grieving despite the many years that went by, even becoming a famous idol didn’t change how much he misses his younger sister and would do anything to bring her back. but then he sees someone that is almost a replica of his past sister, you.

❁ once back to this familiar word, you’ve taken a completely different role. now you are a teenager girl who share the roof with daniel in that small house. the two of you have a quite close relationship since you know about his two bodies and the whole deal, making you someone important to him. the two of you attend the high school together while you work at a daycare that your family owns in the center of the city.

❁ life is going great, well if you don’t count the fact that you are struck again inside lookism and this time things are crazier than before. why are teenagers entering gangs and fighting each others in class? back in your original world, teens were less problematic and in meanwhile, you also find out that one of your colleague is a single teenager father, now you babysit for daughter at the daycare for free since she is a cute baby. eli jang tried to convince to you to get a feee haircut in return, but you refused after seeing his previous victims clients.

❁ as times goes on, things get more crazier. more fights, more gangs and now Daniel is a training to be an idol? you really don’t understand how things are taking so fast, but you are willingly to support him at any time as long isn’t legal stuff. and that is why you meet that famous dude, DG. there is a familiar sense around him, but yet you can’t really tell what since you barely spend time around his presence as you have to work and babysit the children at the daycare.

❁ DG thought it was just a dream or a hallucination when he first saw you when handing daniel his keys since the boy forget it. you are a copy of his late sister, the same behavior, personality, appearance and even the same name. he had to hold himself to not hug you out of nowhere, remembering himself that his true sister died years ago and that you are a completely different person despite the circumstances.

❁ noticing how DG might be suspicious of your existence, you talked with daniel about getting an extra job in order to pay to help with the rent, but the boy didn’t let you overworking and promised to help you with anything if needed. he knows how much you work during free hours and how much you care about the others, often ignoring your own health and self-care, that’s why he promised himself to take care of you even that cost his life.

❁ and as more times goes on, you met even more people that you consider to be too dangerous for your lifestyle. the workers, big deal, hostel and the white tiger job centre! you didn’t ask for anything like this and now some members of those groups are becoming more prominent in your life, making you a little anxious as DG has start calling you almost everyday in order to learn more about you.

❁ not counting DG and Daniel, there are guys who often show up either on your job (like eli jang, who spend way much time at the daycare isentas of going home with his daughter) or just appear out of nowhere during your free days (jake kim and jerry kwion, both headaches that are more than willing to help you out and introduce you to the big deal). this two situation are the best if you count of all the many encounters you had with the many gang members that you are aware of.

❁ honestly, you just wanted to experience a peaceful and calm life before returning to the real world. but with the current situation happening, you are sure that will be struck in the lookism world for a couple of years.

#yandere headcanon #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male #manhwa x reader #yandere manhwa #yandere lookism #lookism dg x reader #lookism x you #lookism x reader #dg x reader #yandere manwha #yandere manhwa x reader #yandere platonic #lookism headcanon #lookism headcanons #x female reader #female reader #females y/n

[tripleyeeet]

MY LOVE IS MINE, ALL MINE (15)

SUMMARY: Astarion insists that you rest.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,987

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of death and dissociation, a whole lot of fluff and comfort as an apology for all the angsty chapters. :^)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ha-ha, hey do people still care about this fic? (Sorry I went MIA, my brain got bad)

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST

-

It feels odd having Astarion around.

For days, his hands are almost always attached to you in some way. Gripping tightly onto your arm as he guides you out of the bed, drawing patterns into your back each night he quietly lays next to you —anything to make you feel like he’s some sort of extension of you. As if he’s another set of limbs there to help you heal. 

It’s nice, at first. Comforting. And for a while, as you exhaustively lay amongst the sheets and pillows, tucked against the side of his torso, it helps you forget about the world around you. How just beyond this realm of soft looks and tender touches, there’s a war raging on, developing day by day as you tirelessly drift from bed to bath and back again, trying your best not to get too restless.

Which is easier some days than others. 

For example, the first few felt like a breeze. Nothing more than a collection of hours that quickly whizzed by before you could even blink. With Astarion there to distract you, time seemed to slip from your grasp entirely. Exiting your mind in the form of lengthy naps spent latched onto your partner’s frame. 

It was blissful. A much needed break from all the chaos but it was obvious it wouldn’t last. Nothing more than a blip in an otherwise more momentous event, you could feel the restlessness of the future seeping in. Taking hold of your mind, ripping through the cavernous well of missing information that occurred during your death. You couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. How the group managed without you —how Astarion managed.

Based on the lack of space given during the healing process, you assume badly. Considering he’s never touched you like this —like you’re the most fragile thing he’s ever placed his hands on as if at any moment one wrongful slip of his fingers might shatter you all over again— it’s apparent something within him changed. Shifting in a way that, even now, nearly a week later his presence is still stagnant.  

And for the most part, it is nice. A welcomed change amongst all the bullshit. Having him there with you —seeing the lengths he’s willing to go to make sure that you’re safe is unparalleled to anything you’ve ever felt. A dream within a plague of nightmares lulling you to sleep each night he holds you close, telling you that everything’s fine. At least, until it isn’t. Then it feels like suffocation. Like his once-loving hands are now wrapped around your throat, reminding you of what little time you have left. Forcing you to realize that, instead of lying around living in ignorance of the task at hand, you should be helping —working alongside the rest of the party to complete your common goal. 

“I need to move, Astarion,” you tell him. Almost angrily, you press your hands to either side of his face, narrowing your eyes, watching the way he rolls his own and frowns.

“Zamrie said—“

“Oh, my Gods, forget what Zamrie said!” Before he can even protest you’re on your feet and moving towards the door, ignoring the way he huffs in response. Blocking out the sounds of his angered protests as you begin to pull on your boots. “I swear, if I don’t get out of this room I’m going to go insane!”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t do anything other than try to talk you out of it. Relaying each point of criticism with facts to back up his claims, watching the way your face twists in annoyance the longer you realize he’s right. 

Because despite mentally feeling alright aside from the lack of stimulus, you’re still exhausted. A feeling you hadn’t anticipated to take so long to recover from. Assuming you were under the hindrance of any other common illness, you figured you’d be back to normal in a few days tops. No longer feeling numb or shaky. But then again, you were dead. And for a while too, so unfortunately it makes sense as to why as you finish tying your first boot you’re already out of breath. Heavily panting against the warm air of the inn’s top floor as you glance to see Astarion’s smug look. 

“You know I’m right,” he says, and all you do is awkwardly walk back to the bed with your boot still on, collapsing face-first into the mattress with a groan. 

“I’m so bored.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?” 

In response, you merely grumble, feeling him roll you over so that he can untie the laces of your shoe, kneeling at the edge of the bed for better access as you let out a huff, unsure what to say.

Because really, there aren’t very many options left. Already you’ve read every book your party has and then some thanks to Gale and his lengthy trip to Sorcerer’s Sundries, as well as exhausted all your conversation topics. At this point, there’s nothing left but card games and sleeping and Astarion frequently cheats which leaves you with the most boring option. The one you’d rather suffer through the pain of activity than submit to, prompting you to look at Astarion with pleading eyes, praying that just this once he’ll give in. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” 

You narrow your eyes and wiggle your foot as he eventually discards your boot, quickly moving to kick his face in annoyance only to have him catch it before you make contact.

“If you don’t stop I’ll cast hold person on you,” he threatens then, moving to grip your knee and pull you towards the edge of the bed. Smirking at the sound of you squealing in amusement at the sudden shift in position. 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” you tease, but all he does is slowly maneuver himself above you, slotting his hips between your already spread legs. Ignoring the way your face contorts to showcase the sudden nerves that erupt. 

“I would because then you’d actually rest.” 

“But I am resting.” 

“Hm, are you?”

“I’m laying down aren’t I?”

“That’s different than resting, my love.” 

“Is it?”

Somehow he’s managed to distract you with conversation long enough for you not to notice he’s looming above you. Pressing his palms against the spaces next to your head —shifting the lower half of his body to lightly press against your own. 

Upon noticing this, you swallow hard and try not to smile. Forcing down the anxiety of Astarion’s mischievous gaze exploring your features —taking in the obvious temptation that’s begun to surface. 

“You don’t seem very tired,” he tells you. Teasing you in a way that has you rolling your eyes, allowing it to happen because, while you’ve exhausted a lot of options to entertain yourself, sex isn’t one of them. Considering the two of you have been too busy reuniting and making sure everything about your resurrection continued to go smoothly, the thought really hadn’t occurred to either of you. 

Far too lost in the simple touches of each other’s company, up until now it felt more important just to coexist. To relax and monitor rather than jump into something that could only result in complications. 

Which is a thought that sits at the back of your mind. Even as he leans down, nudging your nose with his —saying something flirtatious that you completely miss due to the passing thoughts that stroll through your head— you can’t help but wonder if it’s a good idea.

“Are you sure we—“

He cuts you off with a gentle kiss. One that lingers for a couple of seconds before it’s over and he’s grinning above you, moving to glide his thumb along your cheek. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.“

“No, I just —is it right?” 

He scrunches up his face, looking at you in confusion. Making you realize how offensive your words probably sound. “Sorry, I don’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it?”

You take a minute to put together your thoughts, ignoring the way he longs for your answer. Feeling him shift slightly backwards in anticipation of your inevitable rejection. 

“Is this the right time to be doing this?”

He raises his brow and sort of laughs. “Do you mean that morally or?”

“Kind of?”

“Kind of?”

All you do is scoff in embarrassment, moving your hands to cover your face. “I just mean that… should we be having sex while the others are doing all the work?” 

Astarion really laughs at that, his voice practically rising a full octave as he swats away your hands, watching your annoyance only increase at his actions. “Seriously? That’s what you’re concerned about?”

“I feel like it’s a valid concern.” 

“Well, it’s not.” 

“Okay but I think—” 

He steals another kiss, ignoring the groan of protest that hits his lips. Opting to instead grab your cheek again, gliding his fingers against your skin. Feeling the way you almost immediately settle into his touch the moment he pulls away. 

“Darling, you and I both know the other’s don’t give a shit what we do. So long as it’s somewhat legal and doesn’t disturb their sleep.” 

Moving your hands to his torso, you practically sigh in defeat, pinching his hips with frustrated fingers as you lean up and kiss his chin. “I don’t know. I think Gale might be jealous if he comes back and sees us.”

As you fall back down he chases you instantly, enveloping your mouth in his a third time, knowing then that you’re surrendering. That instead of fighting the urge to make excuses, you’re allowing yourself to enjoy what he’s offering. To experience that connection without the added baggage of not knowing whether or not there’s feelings involved. 

Because now that you’ve admitted it —now that both of you have said those three little words, it feels completely different. After travelling and talking and experiencing that unfortunate blip of separation there’s a whole other dynamic that takes place.

For example, somehow his touch is gentler. And not because of your current physical setbacks. No, there’s something tender about it. As if the care he has for you has extended from his heart to his palms, guiding them in ways that make your chest tighten with newfound anticipation. Against your flesh, his fingers are delicately placed, slipping to grip the back of your neck, sprawling out to cover as much surface area as possible. 

Sighing into him, your thoughts wander to different positions. Imagining all of the ways the two of you might end up, you can feel your stomach twist with excitement. Your mouth curling up into an empty-minded smile, unaware of the joy that radiates between you. Too distracted by the happy sound he makes when you grip the waistline of his pants. 

“Does this serve as a good enough distraction for your boredom?” 

You hum and kiss him, eventually pulling back to nod. “Only if it’s okay.” 

For a moment he pauses, his expression turning from playful to serious. His eyes softening at the weight of your words, realizing that you mean it. That for once in his life he’s in control of his own pleasure. 

“I promise you, I wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t,” he eventually tells you, and all you do is beam. Moving your hands to his face, you look at him with affectionate pride, running your thumbs along the highpoint of his cheeks —pressing down as you pull him back to rest his forehead against yours.

“I love you so much,” you say, closing your eyes, hearing him softly hum in a way that rips the air right out of your lungs. Feeling the way he stiffens before he ultimately melts beneath your touch, allowing the full weight of his body to press against yours. 

“You mean the world to me,” he responds, moving to kiss your cheek before moving to the other before you open your eyes again to see him hovering above. “When I lost you I—“

You don’t interrupt him. Instead, you just press your lips together and offer a nod, watching his mind work through the blockage. 

“Losing you felt like losing hope. Like I was being shoved back into that blasted mausoleum all over again.” He pauses to swallow, watching you stare into his eyes, refusing to break the contact even though it’s obvious he wants to. “I don’t want to feel like that ever again. I can’t —I won’t.” 

Your hands move towards his shoulders, slowly weaving their way around his neck to pull him close. To let him feel the pounding heart inside your chest and how its pace quickens because of him.

“I know it may seem like I’m ungrateful a lot of the time —that I’m brash or unkind but don’t think for a second I take for granted what you feel for me.” His lips press against yours for a second before they’re separate again. “I love you and I won’t let anything more happen to you.”

As soon as he finishes you can’t help but pull him against your chest, placing a kiss to the crown of his head before resting your chin on top of it. “Mm, you really have a way with words don’t you?”

All he does is chuckle. “I would hope so after all the mindless chatter I’ve done over the last two centuries.”

“I’m sure you’ve swept your fair share of feet with that beautiful voice of yours.” 

He cranes his neck to look up at you. “My voice is pretty beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It’s like music to my ears, darling,” you tell him, partially mocking him as he scoffs in response and reaches for the nearest pillow to smother your already giggling face.

 “Don’t mock me.” 

Awkwardly moving to shove the pillow aside, you feel him shift against you as he sits up, grabbing both of your wrists and pinning them above your head. “Actually, you know what, I take back what I said —I actually hate you.”

“No you don’t.” 

You scrunch up your face in fake annoyance as he leans down again, giving you a chastising look. “I do. So much so that I don’t want to have sex with you anymore.”

“Oh, really?”

While nodding your head, you try your best to get him to release your wrists but to no avail, eventually sighing in response. “Yeah, I’d rather take a bath instead, I think. Get you to wash my hair or something.”

Without even protesting he just kisses your nose and rises from the bed, readying the bath. Taking it upon himself to focus on the task at hand rather than your lingering eyes staring at his dishevelled hair and the way his clothes have shifted out of place thanks to your roaming hands. Something that shouldn’t annoy you but does as you crave his attention. Finding yourself wanting desperately to keep him connected any way you can. 

Because despite knowing he’s here with you, sometimes he isn’t. Instead, sometimes he’s lost in far-off lands, travelling by himself in fear, trying desperately to get back. Behind his eyes, you can always tell when he’s absent because his eyes sort of shift out of focus, dismissing whatever’s directly in front of him in favour of relieving whatever awful memory’s been triggered. 

It breaks your heart. Ultimately spurring you to stand and move behind, wrapping your arms around him as he finishes up the bath. 

“C’mon, get it before it gets cold.” 

Despite wanting to playfully protest, you listen. Taking a reluctant step back while releasing his frame, you slowly begin to peel off your clothes, feeling his fingertips reach for your stomach as you throw your tunic over your head.

“Can I help you?” 

Looking down at his hand, you see his fingers draw patterns into your flesh. How they practically dance their way down to your waist before his other hand slips to the buttons of your trousers. 

“Other way around.”

You look at him, confused, prompting him to laugh. 

“Figured you could use a hand with these.” He tugs the button through the hole with one quick swipe, causing you to bite back a smirk and roll your eyes, allowing him to slowly drag the fabric down your legs. Watching as he moves to his knees along with it. 

Once there, he motions for you to step out of each pant leg, discarding the fabric entirely. Grinning up at you once you’re left only in your underwear. 

“Gods, you’re…” He doesn’t finish. Instead, he just kisses the inner portion of your thigh as he plays with the edge of the fabric, looking up at you with pleading eyes. The kind that you merely nod at, suddenly feeling nervous.

Because it’s been a while since he’s seen you like this. And even so, it continues to feel different. More intimate somehow as he moves at a leisurely pace, kissing your skin while exposing your sex. As it happens, you have to look away and take a breath, feeling everything shift past your thighs and knees, eventually moving to your calves and feet before there’s nothing against you. No fabric or hands or lips —only the suffocating air of the inn hitting your bare skin, forcing you to uncomfortably squirm as you look down. 

“Beautiful,” he mutters, and suddenly it feels like your heart is bursting against your chest, watching as he leans forward to pepper a few kisses along your upper legs, reaching for the scars that line your stomach —ignoring the way they twitch beneath his fingertips as he traces over them. “How about we get you into the tub before the water gets cold, hm?”

Almost nervously you nod, feeling him grip your hips for support as he moves to stand before guiding you into the tub without another word. 

-

TAGLIST:

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @bluestuesday @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @sanscas @spammypasta @leighsartworks216 @rose-gold-blue @p1ssmagg0t @hellish-writes @ghostinvenus @otayz @sexysquatch @sleepyeclair @colorful-anxieties @alina-exe @lillifer @girlwiththepapatattoo @acelin-ginsberg @pinkuranium @catrad0rable @scarletrosesposts @qwnamidala @itsrosebabe @bunnyperi @queenofcarrotflowers-s @tatumadams20 @spkyxszn @chlort @f3v3rs @awkwardwookie @joy-the-reader @warm-milk-with-honey-blog @vertigocrime @iyis @wildpiper @pebblethestone @tillywasneverhere @bex-03 @revemiya @staticspouse @itzagothamcitysiren

(taglist continued in reblogs)

#my love is mine all mine #astarion fan fic #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #a lover's folly #summer writes

[hanrinz]

KATSUKI BAKUGOU : OUR WAY HOME — katsuki doesn't wait for anyone, but if it's for you? you are worth all the time he has.

ᜊ FLUFF, mutual pining, just bkg being his usual self, i couldn't help myself this has been sitting in my drafts for a long time.

some might say that the blond haired boy will never be waiting for anyone, time was very precious for him. every second counts, and it's true — it really does matter to him.

every passing minute without the thought of doing anything pisses him off, cursing you in his mind as he stands idly outside the campus gates. his bag on the side of his shoulder as he kicks rocks under his feet, with his usual frown etched on his face. a little pop sucker keeping his mouth company.

already grumbling under his breath how you take so much time leaving the school.

but, who is he kidding? it's not that he's obligated to walk you home on afternoon fridays. always bitching about how he also walks the same way as you and you're just being delusional. even though he lives on the opposite side of the city.

THE katsuki bakugou walking you home? tsk, as if! he wouldn't be caught lacking and have the extras thinking he's gone soft, definitely not.

because katsuki bakugou is afraid of being vulnerable.

what's worse is that you know. you know that he lives in the opposite direction of your home, you know that he waits for you every friday after school, you know that the katsuki bakugou was harboring some feelings for you, but you kept quiet.

you kept quiet about it, not a single word and it's like you're challenging him — between the two of you who will be brave enough to say it.

he hates it, the time where the two of you dance around beckoning for the other to break, to just tell the unsaid truth. the flowers blooming in his chest that you have planted in his heart so carefully, the times you showered it with your sweet words and smiles making it grow like a garden — your garden.

and he is so afraid to pluck it out and give it to you, like a bouquet that holds the secrets of his heart.

katsuki bakugou who's never afraid of anything, now hides behind a facade. to keep the artifacts of his heart away from breaking.

"were you waiting for me, katsuki?" tilting your head in question.

raising his eyes to look at your face, he could only let out a scoff, as he stood up properly stealing away your bag from your hands, then walking off to the direction of your home, just so you wouldn't see the redness taking place on his ears.

he often forgets you could be rather annoying, when you want to. though he'll never admit it, it was no secret that katsuki can't resist your charms. it just so happens that you being annoying is one of them.

"oi, are you coming or not? pick up your pace, dumbass," he gruffed, stopping on his tracks as he waits for you.

shaking your head from his aggression, only catching up to him, "ahh always so grumpy!" you said in a teasing tone.

he offers you no words. skipping down to the road you're very much familiar with, a smile making its way to your lips. maybe you'll tell your affections for him someday, maybe not now. but, you can savour this moment with him for now.

"let's go home, 'suki."

katsuki thinks maybe he'll wait for you to say that again, maybe.. just maybe he'll wait for you, until you become his home.

◞♡ writers block is the worst, likes & reblogs are highly appreciated!

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #mha x reader #bnha x reader #roses ‘r rosie

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 31

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: it's the weekend but I got schoolwork so I leave you with this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your sleep is shallow and sparse. You surrender to consciousness as the sky dulls to dim blue. You watch the slow advance of dawn through the slit between the curtain, languishing in the even rhythm of Mr. Laufeyson’s breath. His warmth clouds beneath the covers and makes you sweat, even as you sidle to the edge of the bed.

It isn’t just the blankets that make you swelter. Shame nips at your cheeks and ears as you try to forget the scene in the library. Yet, you know it will likely play out again when you make another mistake.

As the morning hue pales to yellow, you dare to sit up. The covers fall away and you peek back at Mr. Laufeyson. He sleeps soundly, content and calm. If only he could be so placid when awake.

You stand cautiously, certain not to jostle the bed. Waking him would be another sin to tally. You tiptoe around the foot of the bed and flit into the bathroom. You close the door gently, the clasp clicking a bit too loudly in the early lull.

You stop before the mirror but don’t look at yourself. You can’t. You shimmy out of the silky nightgown and fold it on the counter. You shiver and pad across the cold tiles to the shower. You step inside and close the glass door. You can’t wash away what happened but you can start again and do better.

You crank on the shower head and nearly squeal as it pours out cold water. Just as quickly, it turns scalding and you press yourself to the wall of the booth, just outside the umbrella of the deluge. You adjust the faucet and test the temperature with your fingertips. You sigh and step under the flow once more.

You close your eyes and tilt your head back, letting the warmth slake over you. Chills spiral over your skin as water trickles from the swell of your chest. You’re caught in the still moment. You breathe, in, out, deep, slow.

The steam plumes around you, enshrining you in a misty cocoon. Then, all once, the peace breaks and you wince as the glass door opens. The heat puffs out as frigid air washes in and raises bumps on your skin. 

Mr. Laufeyson enters without a word, frightening you. He shuts the door, closing you in with him as he steps behind you. You cower and hug yourself as he reaches to adjust the shower head so it sprays past you. He groans and pulls his arms back to stretch by his head. He looms over your withering form.

He touches your shoulder, startling you again. What is he doing? Is this real or a distorted dream you can’t escape? You’re so tired that everything blurs at the edges.

He grips you tighter and turns you to face him. He doesn’t say a word as he bows, bringing his hand to your chin to angle your head back. He presses his lips to yours and hums, his other arm hooking around to bring you flush to him. He kisses you, a man determined, as his hand trails down your back, groping your bottom until you whine.

The peace fractures completely. Your skin buzzes and your insides writhe. His thumb stretches to caress your chin as he consumes you. His nakedness mingles with your own and twitching prod tickles your skin.

He parts and frames your face with his long fingers. Sleep still weighs down his lashes and pales his complexion. He flutters his fingers down your neck and draws both hands to your shoulders. He follows the lines of your arms and guides your hands to his chest. He holds them, pressing so you can feel the taut muscle.

You're alright with more than the water’s temperature. The firmness, the tension in him plucks inside of you. He terrifies you yet enthralls you. The power he has over you is both suffocating and seductive.

He moves your hands down to his stomach. You feel his muscles clench as you do and he lets out a shuddery breath. You stare at his throat, too shy to watch the descent of your touch. He groans as he trails your hands closer together. He closes them around his rigid length and growls.

“Pet,” he rasps as his throat constricts, “I woke and you were gone.”

You swallow, your tongue sticks before you can muster your voice, “Mr. Laufeyson, I’m sor…”

He hushes you and lets you go. You don’t rescind your touch, you don’t dare. He purrs again and grabs your head with both hands, drawing you into another hungry kiss. He devours you until you're breathless and your grip tightens around him. He gasps and nibbles your lower lip.

“Ahhhh,” he sighs and reaches to pull your hands away from him, “no, no…”

He grips your shoulder again, nudging you to face the shower head once more. You quiver as let his hands fall and trace the curves of your sides and hips. He braces you and pulls you against him. He bows his head, looming over you, encircling you with an arm. He dips his nose down to nuzzle your neck.

“It is a new day,” he snarls between nips, “yes?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you tremble even more as his arousal presses to your back.

“Mmm,” he drags his nose up and down the crook of your neck, biting down suddenly so you gasp.

The arm hooked around you bends and he brings his hand to fondle your chest. His other ventures down your pelvis as he wiggles his own, reminding you of his need. He slips his foot between both of yours and inches them apart. He feels along your folds and delves between them, pushing down on that most tender spot.

You squeak as he rolls your clit. You grasp his hip to steady yourself, extending your other arm to the wall. He tweaks and gropes your chest, your nipples budding beneath the downpour. He pulls you back as his fingers work at your cunt, teasing you until you’re slick.

His teeth pinch down on the muscle along your shoulder. Pressure builds as he tortures your flesh with his mouth, sucking until you can’t bear it. He unlatches from you and stands straight, hooking his arm around your neck to pull your head back.

You reach to his wrist, clasping on as your other hand latches tightly to his hip. He rocks slightly against you as his fingers coil your nerves around him. He swirls and flicks around your clit, embers sparking to a flame.

You babble as your head lolls back and your lips part. Your heart beats furiously as you feel the peak building inside of you. His hand crawls further and he feels along your entrance. You twitch and he bends his arm tighter around your neck. He pokes along your cunt, slowly easing a finger into you.

You moan at the sensation of his intrusion. Fiery and fraught as he sinks past his knuckle and to the next. He slides in and out of you, wiggling and curling his finger to test your limits. He slips out complete and presses two fingers to your entrance.

You gasp as he urges both into you. You arch your back and dig your nails into his forearm. There’s pain this time. A sear that stretches you as you teeter on your toes. He’s the only thing keeping you on your feet.

He pushes the heel of his hand to your clit and rocks his hand. The cluster of pressure of sensations knot together and tangle your muscles. You heave, fighting to catch your breath as he plays with you so expertly. You lean your head back and close your eyes. He presses his lips to your temple as his hand carries its motion.

“Oh, pet, you see how nice I can be? Hm? If you’re good for me,” he rams his fingers deeper, squeezing on your bud as your thighs quake. 

He moves so his dick is firm against your ass, gliding along your lower back as he rolls his hips. He tilts his hand faster and faster, your breath shaky as pathetic mewls flutter through your lips. You can’t take much more.

“That’s it, pet, you’re so close,” he sneers behind your ear, “remember you must obey…” he nearly shakes you with the violent motion of his hand, “cum for me, pet.”

All at once, you unravel. You cry out as the swell within you bursts and spills into his hand. You shake as you succumb to the violent tides gushing around you. He coils you tighter, his bicep bulging against your neck as he straightens. He bucks against your back and groans as the friction turns erratic.

He grunts and a new warmth pools along your lower back. He spasms as he spurts onto your flesh, quaking as he slows and turns you with him as he staggers to lean against the shower wall. His arm falls from around your neck, instead locking across your chest as he keeps you flush to him. He huffs out as you lean into him, clinging to his arm.

“Pet,” he rasps, “you do make as many messes as you tidy.”

✨

It’s Wednesday. It’s supposed to be your day off, but given the nonentity of Monday, you’re not sure you can still claim that time. You’re too afraid to ask, paranoid that it would come across as lazy. Or worse, neglectful.

Mr. Laufeyson hasn’t said much since the shower. He left you in there and dressed before you emerged. Stunned, you hardly remember picking out the light-blue skirt and blouse in a dark shade of the hue. 

Without guidance or permission, you go to the library to tend to the list. Even if it is meant to be your day, you won’t be able to relax so long as there are tasks undone. You peek over at the door to the study, firmly shut, and refocus on the glowing screen.

Your phone, not the touch screen, the flip, chirps. You silence it and check the missed calls. It’s getting worse. The electric, the landlord, and Leslie. You have dozens of unanswered calls. You don’t know what to do. You know you can’t abandon your dad but you feel paralysed to do anything about him.

You shut the phone and hide it away in your bag, sliding it under the desk. Out of sight, out of mind. You rub your eyes and bring your hands to cradle your chin. You stare at the screen, unable to decipher the bullet points as your eyes gloss.

The noise of the door pulling back on its hinges jars you. You sit up abruptly and bat away the haze. You look at Mr. Laufeyson as he fills the door frame.

“Tea.”

Just a single word before he retreats. You furrow your brow and brace the desk, pushing yourself to your feet. You stand and mechanically set off on the task. You need the simple duty to keep you from thinking too much.

In the kitchen, you pace as you wait for the kettle. You fill the pot and arrange a tray. With thee breakfast tea steeped and everything in place, you balance it all and set about the treacherous climb back to the second floor.

You enter through the library, clearing your throat as you pass into the study. Mr. Laufeyson polishes what appears to be a telescope with a cloth as you set down the tray. You step back, folding your hands as you expect your next order.

“I should like it from a cup,” he peeks up pointedly.

You pour a cup and place the pot back down.

“Milk?” You offer.

He shakes his head and his eyes recenter on the telescope. You watch him wipe the edges with the cloth, his finger making a point in the fabric as he traces the finger ridges. You’re hypnotised by his intense attention.

You assume it’s part of his work. From what you know, he collects old things. Maybe sells them too?

“Well,” he stops his work and lowers the telescope, “was there something else?”

“No, Mr. Laufeyson, sorry, I…” you drop your arms straight and push your shoulders back.

You turn on your heel and march to the door. As you reach it, uncertain if you should close it, a chime interrupts that menial concern. You spin and look at Mr. Laufeyson as he arches a brow.

“I’m not expecting visitors,” he states, “I didn’t think the carpenter scheduled.”

“No, it can’t be Ronan,” you murmur thoughtfully.

He sighs, “well, go see who it is.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

You scurry out as your skin speckles with embarrassment. You’re so confused. You can’t get the scene in the shower out of your head but he’s acting like none of it happened. Even as if the night before is just a figment of your own naughty fantasies. You’re starting to think it might be.

You stop at the front door to step into your flats and pad out into the daylight. It’s bright but the sun is crested with pillowy clouds. You can feel a rainstorm brewing in the air. You shade your eyes as you squint across at the gate. You can’t see much beyond it.

You follow the curve of the drive to the control box and peek out through the bars of the gate. You don’t recognise the large SUV on the other side. You push the button to talk through the speaker box.

“Hello?” You utter dumbly into the box.

“Ah, little maid, I’ve come to see my brother,” Thor’s voice booms like thunder, echoing as you hear him both through the speaker and through the gate.

“Erm…” you babble before letting the button go. What do you do?

You turn to look up at the house. You don’t have your phone. You’ll have to run back in and ask. You flee, scrambling back to the door and racing inside without shedding your shoes. Your soles clap up the stairs and you rush into the library, stopping yourself at the threshold of the study. You’re out of breath.

A loud, long honk comes from outside. You gulp as Mr. Laufeyson scowls. His mouth clamps in a tight line.

“Mr. Laufeyson, it’s your brother,” you heave.

He visibly cringes and his eyes flit away in thought. His cheek twitches and he slowly puts down his cup. He stands and rolls his shoulders. He shakes his head as he nears you.

“Stay in the library,” he points you out of the study, “and do not come out until I bid you.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you recite.

“Not even to use the bathroom, you understand?”

A chill ripples over you at his foreboding tone. Once more, you acquiesce. He’s already closing the study door, shutting you in. You go to secure the other one and back up, staring at it as you hear him stomping down the hallway.

As thankful as you are not to encounter Thor again, you can’t help but be unsettled. Why should Mr. Laufeyson be so concerned about his own brother’s presence? Why would he ever need to lock you up away from his own family?

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #dirty work #au #maid au #marvel #mcu #avengers #thor

[cerastes]

can i get other examples of gamepress being wrong about arknights? i've been using them as my main source since i started and now i'm worried i'm missing out on some operators i haven't bothered to upgrade 🙃

We could be here literally all day because it's not like they have one or two outliers, Gamepress is just mainly edited by people that live in an echo chamber and that have authority in their own circle so it's just off-the-hip, all too often wrong biased takes based on their own really reductive metrics. Chiefly, Gamepress ranks characters 1) as if they were the sole unit in the battlefield almost exclusively, and 2) using the single most broken units currently live as the barrier of entry. The unit you are looking up can't clear a chunk of map in one tap? Worthless and sub-optimal, according to Gamepress. Their only metric is Mlynar, Ch'ung the Hung, Surtr, that kind of Press To Win philosophy, and if a unit can't do that, Then It's Bad And Not Worth It.

Now, you may be thinking, "goodness me, Dreamer, you are being awfully harsh to call them complete dogshit at every angle of the game in this manner!", well, see, it's not just their Operator "reviews", they have articles sometimes. And they are god awful dogshit as well, such as "What Happened To Blaze?"

You can't see the comments anymore, but the author was getting reamed. I have one screenie at least:

Comments were mainly of this nature. Because, well, the article is straight up awful, especially since it reduces Blaze to "laneholder" and compares her to "competition" like Thorns, Mudrock, and Mountain, who, yes, they all can hold a lane, but Blaze has her own space of "infinite duration, high statline, healable 3-block with 2 tile range" that has historically allowed for Funny Tricks like clearing enemies through "walls" on tiles that could shred Thorns even with a healer, or, you know, in conjunction with any of Mudrock or Mountain, given you have 12 whole slots for you team. Again, Gamepress editors rate characters as if they were your main in a fighting game and not one of 12+1 characters you can throw in at any time. They also tend to shit on non-specialist characters (generalists; more versatile units that can do a bunch of things without really breaking the game in any regard), which is very interesting because those usually will make up a strong backbone of any competent Integrated Strategies team, so the specialists in role can do their thing while the other needs of the map are being met.

"Ebenholz is nothing special." "Goldenglow is nothing special." These are takes they genuinely held until, you know, it turned out that Eben and GG are the most relevant Casters, up there with Eyja. To be fair, it wasn't just them being wrong on Eben, but how do you look at the global blasting of GG with her numbers and don't immediately realize that's an ICBM button? All it takes is having the game installed.

The biased nature of Gamepress is also blatant:

Imagine rating April as "Really Good" while relegating Dorothy as only "Really Fun". Even before her Module3, Dorothy was absolutely devastating, bringing huge damage multipliers, crowd control, one of the single best class autoattacks in the whole game at 6* stat weight, and a Talent that gives her even more Attack for basically using her as intended. I'm not saying April isn't good, mind you, I'm just trying to highlight how biased the hands behind Gamepress are: They can't figure out Trapmasters? Then surely they are merely "really fun". Can't drop and forget them like April or Surtr, after all.

About the only thing Gamepress is good for is objective, in-game info: Dates, mat requirements, what skills do, that kind of stuff. It's got a good interface and is a good place to just quickly look up what you need to know that can otherwise be found in the game. The moment their personal opinions come into play, though? The most absolute dogshit takes. Unless you are a "unga bunga drop Surtr and Mlynar and win instan-- WAIT WHY IS INTEGRATED STRATEGIES AND RISK 23+ KICKING MY DAY 1 PLAYER ASS...!?" kinda player, then you don't really want to follow Gamepress advice.

Because they simply do not give good advice as a whole.

#corvidthots #arknights #gamepress

[blughxreader]

Damn, the "re-connection session" one-shot was an extremely heavy read in a way I never expected. I’m fully aware that your requests are closed but just wanted to ask; how would Dick and Jason deal with a traumatised omega reader? Someone who gave in to the hormones but once the effect blew over the weight of what happened set in and hit them like a truck, as they re-lived metres of being undressed and touched without their consent, which mimicked a borderline assault?

I'm blown away by the response for this fic omg <3 Thank u to everyone who left comments like this lol. "HORRID. SICK TO MY STOMACH. WILL TATTOO ON MY BODY." yall are the best

As for your questions...

We're all aware of normal trauma responses (mental breakdowns, you could throw up at the smell of Alfred's soup, blocking the memory entirely, throwing yourself into distractions), but ABO has a primal element...

Y'know how women who give birth release this brain chemical that makes them love their baby so it overrides the terror of pregnancy??

Yeah. Maybe finally joining the pack physically/emotionally releases that same chemical.

You're not a slave to your body, but it definitely takes the edge off of a horrific incident. I think you'd 1000% remember it forever and have some level of bitterness and ick about it, but sometimes it's easier to accept things you can't change.

From everyone's perspective, why should you harbor so much hatred when an easy life of love and safety is at your fingertips if you'd just forget a little incident?

It's up to the you tho.

Dick fully stands by his decision unless you try to like, kill yourself. He's used to making hard decisions, and while he'd upset at the circumstances, he feels it was the last solution. Everything else failed, so how we do things the uncomfortable way.

Jason will always feel shitty about it. He's a romantic, and the fact that your entrance into the pack was by force will forever sit heavy on him. If Dick's confidence had faltered even a little during that one-shot, then Jason would have called it off immediately.

Life would carry on normally, save for everyone watching you for any behavioral changes. Dick and Jason would accept your furious anger / sadness with understanding remorse, then would comfort you in their own ways.

Movie night? Your favorite food? Want to sit with Alfred and I in the library? Hey, maybe we can convince Bruce to let us all go to his beach house for a weekend?

And if you stop reacting all together, then they'd take the indication to cozy on up to you again. Fight back and show some emotion, orrrr sit with one of their arm's over your shoulder and let the hormones do their job.

You'll run out of fight eventually, then Bruce will start working on your trauma. At that point, the pack's already got a hold on you mentally so you begrudge them some leeway.

Small privileges here and there (sitting with your thighs touching, holding someone's hand, sleeping in the same bed), until it becomes a slippery addiction.

#yandere batfam #platonic yandere batfam #platonic yandere #yandere x reader #yandere dc #yandere abo #abo yandere #batfam abo