#The comments on this are… actually all okay for now?!?! Will wonders never cease?

[a-solitary-sea-rover-backup]

The Comet Class: Tackling the Sport’s Misconceptions

#The comments on this are… actually all okay for now?!?! Will wonders never cease? #sailing #Bermuda #Comme un seul homme #SailGP #Youtube

[updownlately]

if you’re gonna waste my time (let’s waste it right)

| leah williamson x reader | hurt/comfort | 3.3k | disclaimer: mentions of anxiety, self loathing, negative thoughts, and depression -this delves into some slightly heavy topics so please read at your own discretion! | a/n: got this ask a while back and an idea struck to me while driving! first fic in a while that i've written in one sitting so let's see how this goes! honestly started off really strong but then idk where we went. anyways, not proofread as usual, but happy reading! take care amigos! and just know that each of you are loved, cared for, and cherished by those around you, even if you don't know it! 🫶

~~~

Fight, flight, or freeze.

They say that every human has these three survival instincts built in.

Instincts meant to protect, to escape, but most importantly, to survive. 

Responses meant to make sure that one would make it out of harm’s way, preferably unscathed. 

Fight, the mechanism that evoked adrenaline. That helped you battle your way through the toughest of encounters. 

That did its best to make sure you were well equipped to tackle any scuffle, minor or major, to the best of your ability.

Flight, the mechanism that helped you run- escape before you couldn’t anymore. 

The one that ensured that you got out before you could be attacked- before you could be hurt.

And then of course, freeze. 

Rooted to your spot, immobile as harm directed itself towards you, one only praying that you could be so still that harm skipped right past you, practically avoiding you as you let it pass. 

Freeze, that left you with a pounding heart, blood rushing in your ears.

Freeze that meant you couldn’t move, body rigid, feet planted, mind stopped in time.

Freeze that kept you stuck. stuck in an endless loop of agony, of shaky breaths, of paralyzing fear.

Freeze, considered the weakest of the three. 

So as you stood there, eyes wide, muscles tense, body frozen, you cursed your mind and body with all that you could, wondering why of the three instincts, freeze was what you had done in order to try and survive.

~~~

There’s something terrifying about the voices that ring in your head.

How they so scarily sound similar to the people in your life, past and present.

Voices reminding you how you aren’t good enough. How you’ve let them down. How maybe if you weren’t there, the world would be okay. That it would move on without a hitch, without a second thought, because when it came to it, at the end of the day, maybe, just maybe, you didn’t really matter anyways.

Voices that sounded like your mother, reminding you of dark nights of you hidden in your room, the harsh words ringing in the four walls of your bedroom, what was supposed to be your safe haven, now tainted with feelings of regret, of disappointment, of outright disgust.

It’d be better if you didn’t exist.

Voices that sounded like your father, angry yells late into the night, enough smashed dishes that left your hands littered with scars that’d never cease to remind you, enough nights spent under your covers silently wiping tears as you prayed that you were quiet enough.

What a waste of air.

Voices that sounded like past coaches and management that knocked you back with each word spoken, each push forward sending you feet yards back, support that felt like hindrance more than anything.

You’d be lucky if you got to play past the little leagues. It’d be a miracle that’s for sure.

Voices that sounded like fans- people that were meant to support you- but you couldn’t force them to. Hundreds if not thousands of comments left, each asking for you to be traded. Hell, they’d take a sack of potatoes if nothing else. 

I can’t believe that we wasted our money on this. Can’t we just, I don’t know, get rid of her? She’s the reason we suck. Maybe if she was half a decent player we’d actually be somewhere in the league.

Comments that repeated your worth. Ingrained it into your mind. Over and over and over again. 

You weren’t good enough.

Sentences that etched themselves into the forefront of your thoughts, always ready to haunt you at the slightest notice. 

You weren’t good enough.

Not now, not ever. 

Not for your own mother or father, never mind your siblings. 

Not for your teammates, nor the fans.

It was a miracle you were even playing professionally in the first place.

God if they took one good look at you maybe they realized how poorly they fucked up by signing you. 

You weren’t a good footballer, barely even a decent one. How you managed to play for this long was a miracle.

They’d notice soon enough though. They had to. They always did.

They’d notice soon enough that you weren’t good enough.

And then?

Then you’d be left with nothing, as you always were.

~~~

You didn’t know when you were led inside to the locker rooms- when that absolutely terrifying moment of being in front of the opposing team’s stands had gone from you taking a corner to being absolutely pelted by random junk. 

From empty bottles (plastic thankfully), to empty food containers, balled-up programs, signs, merch, all being hurled your way, never mind the onslaught of assaults- the stands only repeating everything your mind ever told you, every, single, day. 

You didn’t hear when the ref blew their whistle, nor when the rest of the girls dressed in red crowded you, some chastising the fans along with the away team, others wrapping around you protectively, quickly leading you towards the benches. 

You weren’t there as you were subbed off, your mind still frozen, much like the rest of your body. 

All you knew right now was that you could smell the familiar scent of your girlfriend’s perfume as the heel of your palms pressed harshly into your eyes in an attempt to cease the uproar in your head. 

Breaths getting heavy, you tried your best to calm yourself down.

You weren’t a stranger to panic attacks, and even in your hazed state, you could very well recognize the oncoming situation.

Bringing your arms to wrap around your own stomach in a futile attempt to bring yourself some sort of comfort, you felt your breathing pick up as the sharp lights of the room seemed to get darker. 

Room spinning, the voices in your head louder, you could only bring your knees up to your head, body now practically in fetal position as you rode out the attack.

Even with the hundreds you’d had by now, you hadn’t been able to come up with an effective method to deal with them. 

So you sat there, huddled into a ball, body shaking, mind louder than ever as Leah stood above and watched helplessly.

The blonde had been there in the stands to watch you get abused, immediately making her way down to the pitch because ACL and league rules be damned, that was her girlfriend for fuck’s sake. 

She stood by the sidelines, ready to receive you as the obvious substitution occurred, an arm coming to wrap around you as she led your ghost of a body to the locker rooms.

She watched as you mindlessly sat in front of your locker, not a single word uttered from you, not a single response to the quiet comforting words the blonde had whispered to you gently in an attempt to rouse you from your clearly distressed state. 

She itched to reach out and touch you as she saw you slowly curl into a ball, you getting ever so smaller as she could only helplessly watch, you unknowingly  flinching the second she touched your shoulders in an attempt to comfort you.

It was only when your heavy breathing died down every so slightly, nearly fifteen minutes later if the blonde’s perception was right, that she tried again, slowly coming to sit beside you as she gauged your reaction. 

Seeing your shaking start to slow as well, she slowly wrapped an arm around your shoulder, her own body tense as she watched you stiffen up before you relaxed slightly, letting her pull you into her side as her other hand came to hold your left one.

And long after you had buried yourself into her side, body defeated with the rollercoaster of emotions you’d just experienced, too tired to think of any of the consequences of your actions, you let Leah led you- helping your pull on a hoodie and your jacket and change out of your cleats as she gathered the rest of your gear.

Helpless except able to nod in agreement as the blonde suggested you leave early from the game, you followed her quietly, not a word said from you, as she led you out of the ground and to her car, where you fell asleep within seconds.

It was only when the car pulled up to her house, a place you’d been to many times, your relationship long past new to the both of you, did you rouse, mind still not present and following the blonde.

Leah was good. You trusted Leah. Leah was safe.

The words repeating in your head, you believing they were true like all the other words that crossed your mind, you let yourself sleepily be led up the stairs and up to the ensuite. 

Standing there awkwardly as you slowly came to the situation, the lights in the washroom waking you up, your shoulders sunk as the embarrassment from earlier set in. 

God you were an embarrassment. First a panic attack in front of the English skipper, and now this- you stood helplessly in her bathroom like you were broken, waiting to be fixed.

You watched in dread as the blonde flitted around the joint closet, quickly gathering a change of clothes for you before she stacked them neatly on the countertop, handing you a towel and starting the shower, not meeting your eyes.

What you didn’t know was that she didn’t want to scare you off, intimidate you as her heart ached at the shameful look in your eyes.

“Take a warm shower, yeah? We’ll get you some food after, and then how about a nap?”

Unable to do anything but nod in response, your fear of upsetting the blonde, of anyone really, making itself known, you followed her instructions, locking the door as she left and starting to remove your sweat covered kit. 

~~~

It’s nearly twenty minutes later when you emerge from the shower, your dirty clothes held precariously in your hands, your eyes wide as you see Leah sprawled across her bed, scrolling aimlessly on her phone. 

A small smile unknowingly escapes you as you watch her nearly throw her phone, very much caught off-guard at your appearance.

Smile tightening quickly as you realized it rested on your face, your eyes met the ground, ears sharp as you noted the footsteps headed towards you.

Before you knew it, the mess of dirty clothes was swiftly taken from your hands, your gaze snapping up as you watched Leah take your dirty kit and toss it into her own hamper before turning to you. 

“Alright. I’d rather you eat, but I’m not going to force you to, yeah? We can take a nap, maybe just reset, or if you wanna sit down and watch a movie or a show we can do that too…how’s that sound?”

Feeling your eyes water at the blonde’s gentle tone, feelings still overwhelming from earlier, your sights met the ground again as you meekly nodded. 

Blood rushing in your ears, you felt the vibrations as Leah stepped towards you again, her hands gently taking yours. 

“Nap?”

Taking her chances at guessing which you preferred, the tender tone in her voice had you easily nodding again, tears you’d been trying to hold back now escaping. 

And as the blonde led you to her bed, you winced as the voices in your head picked up once again, mind baffled at why someone was treating you with this much kindness, this much care.

Choosing to ignore them for now, you smiled shyly at the sight in front of you, Leah having rounded the bed to go on ‘her’ side, the skipper tucked into the sheets, arms wide open as she shot you a soft grin, eyes sparkling with glee as she waited for you to join her. 

Gingerly approaching the bed, you hesitantly pulled back the covers, eyes meeting Leah’s every few seconds to make sure you were okay, before entering, unsure of whether you were allowed to hug the blonde (even if a part of you so desperately wanted to do so). 

Your question was answered for you, however, Leah was unable to see you lying down in such a stiff manner, taking matters into her own hands and hooking an arms around your waist and pulling you into her.

And as you slowly got comfortable, moving millimetres every minute until you finally found yourself resting with your head on her chest, arm wrapped around her midsection as her hand came to wrap around your waist, one running through your hair, you let yourself sink into her hold, brain quietening every so slightly as the familiar presence and scent had you relaxing.

It was only when you were on the verge of sleep, minutes later, did you hear Leah’s voice whisper into the air between you two, her lips pressing a tender kiss to your forehead as an apology as she realized her mistake of rousing you from your sleepy state.

“There’s a lot that goes on up there,” with a small nod towards the top of your head, she continued, “but it doesn’t have to stay there y’know?”

Holding her breath as she felt you shift slightly, you turning your body to listen better, she spoke again.

“I’d be more than happy to stay here and listen to you when you need it. Really, any of us would. All of the girls love you and care for you, and despite whatever people might say, you add to the team, yeah?”

Feeling you nod hesitantly at the words, Leah waited as she sensed your jaw move, anticipation killing her as you sounded out the words silently before they left your mouth- and even then, you winced slightly.

“I don’t want to be a burden…don’t wanna waste your time…”

There was something in the way the words quietly rolled off your tongue, no doubt said many times before, the sincerity behind them proving you meant them wholeheartedly- that you believed you were an inconvenience, that broke Leah’s heart.

You weren’t a burden. You weren’t.

She wondered if you’d ever seen yourself the way other’s saw you. If that coloured glass that you saw yourself through was tainted any other colour than black. Whether it was ever yellow so you’d see just how much of a ray of sunshine you were on the stormiest of days, often cheering up your shared teammates with just a single smile as you’d skip into the change rooms.

Or if you ever looked at yourself through the rose coloured glass, the same hue that would coat your cheeks as you’d interact with fans post-game, giving each and every one your undivided attention, making them feel special, and loved, and cared for.

Or whether you ever saw yourself through green, breathing life to even the dullest moments, standing tall, unwavering, as players would try to take you down on the pitch over and over again, you getting back up each time, a force to be reckoned with, one that not even the rainiest of days nor Mother nature could defy.

You weren’t a burden, and the blonde needed you to believe it, because it was the truth and nothing but the wholehearted, honest-to-god truth.

It’s why her honest admission just tumbles out, the words spilling before the defender could stop them.

“If I could hold you all night and all day, I would, without a single doubt or any hesitation.”

Her grip tightening on you as the words are spoken clearly and strongly, her placing a gentle kiss to your temple before continuing.

“If you think you’re gonna waste my time by talking to me when you aren’t doing well, then just know, that listening to you as I try and comfort you and get the chance to hold you in my arms? It’s the best waste of time I’ll ever have in my life. It’s one I’ll cherish till the end of time, because it’s never, and I mean never, a waste.”

Taking a deep breath in, the blonde felt you nod at her words, your own grip tightening around the blonde as you pulled yourself closer into her, closing your eyes in an attempt to believe her the best you could.

Leah could sense your struggle though, not ignorant to the way a small, trembling breath escaped you, frustration clear.

“You don’t have to believe me now, or any time soon really, but just know, it’s the wholehearted truth- and I’ll spend as long as you need reminding you, because you’re good enough. You’re more than good enough, and worthy of love, and a good life, and good things. You deserve love, even though your brain tries to tell you otherwise, yeah?”

When you didn’t say anything, it clear to the blonde that you were silently taking in her words, contemplating them, doing your best to believe them, she let you be, revelling in the silence as took in the feel of you being in her arms, one of her favourite feelings in the world.

The blonde could almost feel you turning her words over in your head, examining them from top to bottom as you inspected them for any indication of a lie, surprised when there wasn’t one.

Content with the way you hadn’t spoken out yet in disagreement, Leah decided to take her chances and bite the bullet.

Proposing her next idea, the blonde held her breath in anticipation, heartbeat slowing dramatically as she hoped you’d agree to her words.

“I’ll always be here to hold you, but I think it might just help if we see a professional, yeah? You and me, both of us, we’ll go, and just give it a crack?”

Feeling your hesitancy this time, the blonde pulled you closer to her gently, turning onto her side as her eyes met yours. 

One hand now carefully resting on your cheek, she placed a loving kiss on your forehead, then your nose before continuing. 

“Three sessions is all I ask. If you don’t want to go after that, then I won’t ask again, ever. But, just give me three sessions, and I’ll be there for each one if you want, and if nothing changes, then you’re off the hook, deal?”

There was an audible sigh of relief that escaped Leah’s lips as you hesitantly nodded in agreement.

Deciding that that was good enough for the time being, Leah smiled softly to herself, more than happy with any baby steps of progress being made.

“Just want you to love yourself the way the rest of us love you. The way I love you…”

The words were punctuated with another gentle kiss on your head, this time her lips lingering as you both basked in the touch, the blonde well aware that physical touch was your love language. 

Nodding to yourself as your girlfriend’s arms wrapped around you at the end of her sentence, heart feeling just a tad bit lighter as her embrace sucked you in, you let out a sigh of relief at the quiet in your mind and warmth in your chest.

Snuggling further into Leah’s hold, you let out a shaky breath as the emotions of the day filtered out of you, you weren’t going to lie, you were terrified for the future- absolutely scared shitless for what it held. But, with Leah by your side, on your team, cheering you on, a spark of hope nestled quietly inside you, filling you with a refreshing breath, a new goal to work towards.

Not now, not soon, but slowly and surely, you’d work your way through this. You wanted to. for your sake and hers.

After all, with your girlfriend to remind you that you were human, someone that could live and not just survive, maybe you could finally teach yourself it too.

#not proofread as usual #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso community #woso #my writing #fic #fic req #hurt/comfort #iygwmt

[fortheloveofexy]

🕯️ 💥 💞 (@stabbyfoxandrew's main)

I just noticed there are two 🕯 questions on the ask game. Not sure which one you meant so I will just answer both!

🕯️how do you think engaging with each other through tumblr, twitter, comments, kudos, creates healthy fandom experiences? How do you deal with that if you're not a social person/experience social anxiety?

I think that positive engagement with fandom can really be a powerful motivator. Part of it is the dopamine hit you get from making something good that a lot of people like, but I also think that even just the smallest positive interaction with others can really build friendship and community.

I have friends whom I've known for years now, and our friendship started because we both agreed Andrew is beefy and got very loud and passionate about it! I have friends whom I only got to know because I was a new fandom author in need of beta readers. Hell, I've made friends with people because we were excited to talk about the omegaverse!

I think the important thing with fandom interactions is to remember that there is a full and complete human behind every username, and that fandom-related stuff is only as serious as you want it to be.

🕯️was there a fic that was really hard on you to write, or took you to a place you didn't think it would take you?

Of all the fics I've written, More Than Words has been the hardest by far. I decided going into this fic that I wanted to incorporate a lot of elements and experiences from my own childhood into it, and that includes both good and bad experiences.

It has required that I examine memories and emotions I've long since tucked away, and that has been both deeply painful and extremely cathartic. Each chapter is emotionally exhausting to write, but it feels necessary to do so, both because I think it will help me process some shit and because I feel like it's a story that needs to be told.

💥find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it.

I'm gonna narrow this down to least kudos'd completed fic because I know there are some people who hold off on leaving kudos until a work is finished. So let's talk about And Baby, I'll Shut Up.

I'm actually quite happy with this one. It was a gift for my dear friend @halfpintpeach. I've never tried to write a fic based on a song before, so it was an interesting challenge to try an incorporate the lyrics and shape the themes of the song into a workable plot. In the end it's a very simple little fic, but I like the imagery and the prose quite a bit, so I'm happy with how it turned out.

💞what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language

For me, it's the characters, always. I find that things like plot, worldbuilding and grammar cease to matter if your characters are not relatable, if not loveable. I love it when characters feel like fleshed out, real people, like friends I've never met and yet deeply know.

My technical writing is merely okay. I don't get too stressed about things like grammar - so long as it's readable and not distracting, I don't much care. I could spend ages perfecting it but really, it's not a big deal. The only thing I am really particular about is spelling, but that's because I personally find it distracting.

In my opinion, my prose is more serviceable than beautiful, and I'm okay with that. It's something I'd like to get better at in the long term, but honestly I think my prose being on the simpler side sometimes works in my favor, bc it means my writing is really approachable and easy to read.

It might not have the most interesting or stimulating turns-of-phrase, but I do think it lends itself to telling a story that just sucks you in. If prose is a window through which a story is viewed, then my window is floor to ceiling glass - its simple and unobtrusive, it does not stand out so it does not get in the way.

#asks #ask crow

[pankowperfection]

So Many Choices (Rafe x reader)

Summary: You innocently make a comment to the kook boys about using toys in the bedroom. Rafe takes that as a suggestion.

Warnings: Smut, bondage, sex toys, 18+

A/N: If I tagged you its because you have interacted with my other posts. Hope that's okay!

As most people probably would guess, Rafe is very adventurous in the bedroom. Any fantasy you had, he was willing to give it a try just to please you. He also enjoyed being very dominant, and you loved when he took control.

One evening while you were sitting by the pool with Rafe, Topper, and Kelce the topic of sex toys came up. "Man, I don't use any toys in bed, why would I need to?" Topper says, which causes you to roll your eyes and snort. "What, y/n?" he asks, all three sets of eyes turning to you. "That is such a man thing to say. Just because you can get your girl off, or maybe you just THINK you can, doesn't mean its not fun to incorporate toys every now and then." "Why though?" Kelce asks. "Why not is the better question. It's fun to see how many different ways you can make someone cum, figure out which toys they enjoy the most. Plus its less work for you guys or a good way to catch your breath if you need a break." They all sat in silence, probably overthinking what you had just revealed. Rafe looked particularly deep in thought at your confession, toys not being something you had tried yet in the bedroom.

A few days later, you came home from work to be greeted by a romantic bubble bath. Candles covered almost every surface in the room, bubbles smelling of your favorite scent. Rafe was sitting in the tub, waiting for you to join him. "Care to join me?" "What's all this for babe?" "Oh just thought it would be nice for us to relax together for a bit, that's all." "You never cease to amaze me Rafey," you say as you begin to strip. You slowly sink down into the tub with him, sitting down between his legs with your back touching his front. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer as he nuzzles into your neck. When his nose brushed over your sweet spot, you let out a whine. "Feeling needy, aren't you kitten?" he mumbles against your shoulder as he starts trailing wet kisses up to your ear. You let out a moan as his hands slide down your body, cupping your breasts and starting to roll your nipples between his fingers. The sounds you were making mixed with how you writhed against him had his cock hardening behind you, pressing into your back. "As much as I would love to fuck you in the bathtub, I actually have something else planned." "Why don't you go ahead and finish washing up, then come meet me in the bedroom when you are ready," he all but commands, already slipping into his dominant role. "Yes daddy," you answer as he climbs out and dries off. The view of his sculpted back and round ass enough to have you desperate with need.

You walked into your shared bedroom, rounding the corner and coming to a stop when you saw what was waiting for you. Rafe stood by the bed with an array of sex toys spread out on the sheets, as well as a four point restraint system. Your eyes darted to his in disbelief, heart pounding and breathing increasing just at the sight of him. "Babe...what did you do?" "Well, after your little speech the other day, I got the idea you might like something like this. I thought we could try out your theory and see how many ways I can make you cum. What do you think?" he asks you hesitantly, wondering if he took it too far. You walked over to him and immediately connected your lips in a hungry kiss, trying to convey with your actions how badly you wanted this. "Words y/n, I won't do anything without you saying yes." "Yes daddy, please tie me up and make me scream for you."

His lips were instantly back on yours, walking you backwards until your thighs hit the mattress. "On the bed, now." You obey, crawling up to lay down on your back, anticipation causing your heart to beat faster. He slowly climbed over you, sitting on your hips while securing your hands in the restraints. Rafe kissed down your neck, over your breasts, and all the way down to your ankles before securing them as well. "Fuck, you look so hot all open and ready for me." You let out a whine at his words, wondering what he was going to choose to start with. He picks the little bullet vibrator, situating himself between your thighs before turning it on. He slides it up your soaking slit, circling your clit a few times while watching to see your reaction. You let out a groan, back arching off the mattress, finally getting some pleasure after all the build up. Your eyes slide shut, vibrations sending pleasure through your veins. He took advantage of you no longer watching, burying his face in your pussy and fucking into you with his tongue. "Fuck! Rafe you're gonna kill me." He laughs against you, still pushing his tongue inside you while holding the vibrator against your clit. "I'm gonna cum daddy." "Come on baby, let daddy hear you." You came with a scream, soaking his face and the sheets with your first orgasm of the night.

While giving you time to recover, he crawled up your body, kissing you with his tongue sliding into your mouth so you could taste yourself. "Can't wait to watch you fall apart over and over again y/n." You watch him get up and return to the pile of toys before picking up nipple clamps and a vibrating cock ring. "What do you think babe? Think you can handle this while I fuck you?" "Yes Rafe, please. I need you." He got back onto the bed, sliding the ring over his hard cock, tip already leaking from watching you cum earlier. He gave himself a few pumps before sliding into you slowly, making sure you felt each inch disappearing. You both let out moans, savoring the feeling. He leaned down and took your left nipple into his mouth, sucking on it and giving it a few flicks of his tongue. Kissing his way over to the right, he repeated his actions before attaching the clips. He leaned back to admire his handy-work, your neck covered in bruises from his mouth, nipples hardened in the pressure of the clamps, his dick stretching you out. He was almost entranced by how beautiful you looked like this. "Please Rafe, need you to move," you whined out. Your words snapped him into action. Immediately he started thrusting into you and it instantly was almost too much pleasure to take. His cock stretching you out, the ring pulsating against your clit each time he slammed in, the clamps providing just the right amount of pain to feel good. "I can feel you clenching around me already my needy girl. Are you gonna cum for daddy?" "Mmm yes, oh fuck, please don't stop." Rafe released the nipple clamps. Seconds later you came harder than you ever had, vision going black and letting out a pornographic moan. Seeing you cum so hard did him in, spilling inside you with a groan.

He unhooked your wrists, pulling them up to his face to place soft kisses over your red skin. Next he released your ankles, giving you time to stretch out your joints. "How ya feeling baby?" his blue eyes were waiting for your answer, hoping it hadn't been too much. "Mmm, very satisfied. Possibly a little too wobbly to stand right now though." With a laugh he laid down beside you, pulling you over to snuggle. "Do you want to do that again?" he wondered out loud. "Oh definitely, and maybe next time I can tie YOU up." 'We'll see about that sweetheart." "In the mean time, I think there a still a few ways I can make you cum," he says, already starting to harden again, pulling you in for a kiss.

@adventuresinobx @starkeyobx @absolute-fcking-chaos

#rafe smut #rafe cameron #obx smut #smut

[idy-ll-ique]

The Perfect Wingman.

Pairing: Single Dad!Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, tiny bit of Angst

Warnings: mentions of injuries, blood

Requested: Nope

Summary: Felix, Sebastian Stan's five year old son, is the perfect matchmaker (with the help of Uncle Anthony, of course!)

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Another matchmaker fic lmao there's just something about that trope where kids play matchmaker for adults that's just... 💞 anyway enjoy!

---

"Buddy! Hi!"

Y/N glanced at Chris Evans as her boss spoke to her, seeing him running towards somebody. After her boss left, she turned around and smiled when she saw him chatting with Felix, Sebastian Stan's five year old son. The kid was literally sunshine in a bottle, making everyone around him happy. Guess that's another thing he got from his father.

Aside from looks.

Then she looked around, but couldn't see Sebastian anywhere. "Boo!" Startled, Y/N screamed and held a hand over her chest as she whirled around to see Sebastian doubled over in laughter behind her, clutching his stomach. "Oh my God!" she groaned as several heads turned to her at her scream. "You should've seen your face," Sebastian wheezed.

Y/N pouted at him and swatted his chest. "I could've had a heart attack!" Y/N wasn't an actress, she was just an assistant on set. Her only work was to make sure that all the actors on set were hydrated, which in turn led to her becoming good friends with all of them. They were all very friendly people, the Marvel cast. "But you didn't. Felix!" Sebastian called out and his son looked up.

Running as fast as his little feet could carry him, Felix jumped into his father's open arms, giggling. Y/N watched them with a smile on her face; Sebastian was a great father. "Meet Y/N," Sebastian introduced her and she waved at the kid. "Hi Felix," she grinned but Felix was mesmerized. Wow, she's so beautiful.

He simply blinked at her a few times, his jaw dropped. Y/N raised a questioning but amused brow at him, her eyes flickering to Sebastian who was watching his son with an exasperated look on his face, all too aware of his shenanigans. She laughed at Sebastian's expression and Felix snapped out of his thoughts. He raised his arms and leaned forward; a silent request of please pick me up.

Y/N gathered him in her arms, his tiny arms going around her neck as she held him on her hip. "Hello!" He had surprisingly clear speech, he did not mispronounce his L's and R's much. "Hi! How are you today? Enjoying yourself?" Felix nodded excitedly. "Yes!" Sebastian simply watched them with a soft smile as the girl he fancied talked to his son.

Sebastian had had a crush on Y/N ever since they began filming, and at this point, 4 months later, the only person who was oblivious to his feelings was Y/N. Everyone knew, and everyone heartily teased him for it. He had always wanted to ask her out; seeing his son get along so well with her only fueled his feelings. "Are you… are you an actwess too, Y/N?"

"No, darling, I'm a helping hand. I help everyone stay hydrated."

"What does that mean?"

"I give everyone water when they ask for it," she explained and Felix nodded, eyes the same colour as Sebastian's blinking at her in wonder. "Water is impowtant," Felix stated matter-of-factly making Y/N giggle. Felix decided he wanted to hear that sound much more frequently. "Felix! Is that you?!" Y/N, Felix and Sebastian turned to see Anthony making his way towards them.

"Uncle Anthony!" Felix squealed and Y/N put him down on his feet, smiling at the way he ran to Anthony Mackie. "Your son is so cute," she commented, turning to Sebastian only to see him already staring at her, a soft smile on his face. "It seems as though he has taken a liking to you. I wouldn't blame him." Y/N rolled her eyes at his flirting but blushed.

He did flirt with her a lot, but come on, that was just a part of his personality. Surely he didn't have feelings for her, he couldn't. Oh but he did; very strong feelings, on top of that. "Cheesy," she jabbed back and Sebastian clutched his chest with a pretend hurt look on his face. "You wound me," he pouted and Y/N grinned at him.

What they didn't see was Felix and Anthony staring at them, eyebrows raised in an identical manner. "Uncle Anthony, can I ask you something?" Anthony smirked but nodded. "Does papa… does papa love Y/N?" Anthony laughed loudly, realising that the adorable kid was the perfect wingman for Y/N and Sebastian. So he said, "Yes, yes he does."

"She is really pwetty…" Felix confessed, his own cheeks turning pink. "Aw, look who's blushing," Anthony teased, pinching his little cheeks. Felix blushed more and slapped his hands away, pouting. "Do you want your papa to go on a date with Y/N?" Anthony asked the child. Felix thought for a moment before nodding.

"Yes. If he likes her, he should just tell her!" Oh, bless his innocent heart. If only it were that easy in real life. "He will ask her soon, we'll make sure of it. Here's what you can do to help…"

---

2 months had passed since Felix visited the sets and Sebastian was getting impatient. If you thought his flirting was too much then, you should see him now. He flirted with her every chance he got but Y/N used to brush him off each time; he possibly couldn't be genuinely interested in her. She didn't think herself to be worthy of his affections, so, as much as she liked his flirting, she never reciprocated.

As Y/N gathered a few bottles of water in her arms, she heard a screech behind her. "Y/N!" Smiling, she turned, dramatically faking an 'oof' as a tiny body collided with her legs. "Felix, honey, hi! Didn't expect you to visit the sets today," she grinned as Felix let go, smiling broadly up at her.

"His babysitter couldn't make it, had to bring him down."

Her smile turned nervous as she saw the father of the cute kid walking towards her, a suave smile plastered on his face. "That's okay, papa, I can just hang out with Y/N!" Felix assured him before frowning at the dozens of bottles in her arms. "Do you need help?" Ah, ever the gentleman. One more thing he gets from his dad.

"Thank you so much, sweetie," she cooed as she handed him two bottles. It wasn't much, but seriously, how much could a little child carry? That was enough for him. "Can you go give these to Scarlett and Chris?" she requested, pointing to the spot where Scarlett Johansson and Chris Hemsworth were standing. "Okay, Y/N!"

She grinned when he left. "Seriously, how did you manage to birth the most perfect kid in the world?" she commented, turning to Sebastian. "Look at me," he said unabashedly, wiggling his eyebrows. "Seb," she huffed and nudged him, raising her eyebrows in shock when he took the bottles from her arms. "I have some time before my next scene."

"That's my job—"

"Nope, can't have you carrying all these bottles, sweetheart. What if you drop them?" She pouted as she followed him through the busy set. "Do you think I'm clumsy?" He glanced at her, worried that he actually offended her, but smiled when he saw her playful look. "Nope, but I don't want you to trip over the fallen bottles and hurt yourself."

"Now that was a good line," she whistled and Sebastian laughed. As Sebastian and Y/N chatted more, they heard a loud wail coming from a few feet away. Freezing up, both of them turned to see Felix sitting on the floor, surrounded by Elizabeth Olsen and Chris Evans as he moaned in pain. Y/N's eyes went wide with fear when she saw the cut on his knee.

Talk about hurting oneself...

Forgetting the world around her, she quickly rushed to the child, Sebastian hot on her heels. "Bub, stop crying," Chris tried but Felix wouldn't listen. The moment he saw Y/N, though, his tears ceased. "Y/N," he whimpered and reached towards her, finally content when she took him in her arms. "Oh, honey bun, you'll be okay," she whispered, kissing his forehead.

"It hurts," Felix insisted. "I know, darling, let's patch you up." Without any word to anyone, Y/N led him away from the crowd, sitting him down on one of the chairs littered across the place. Sebastian, Chris and Elizabeth watched her; Chris and Lizzie were smirking but Sebastian was beyond shocked. The worry on her face the moment she found out he was hurt, the way she cradled him…

The way his son had stopped crying when he saw her, as if she were his mother. The way he reached out to her instead of him. "Just ask her out, pal, look at her. She's perfect for you. And for Felix," Chris told him, patting him on the back before leaving with Elizabeth.

Sebastian stayed where he was for a few more minutes, heart racing and mind in an overdrive, watching as Y/N took care of Felix. Be mine, please.

"All okay, bub?" Y/N crooned as she tied a bandage on his knee after cleaning the blood off. "Thank you, Y/N!" Felix threw his arms around her neck and buried his face in her neck, smiling widely. Y/N returned the hug ardently, rubbing his back. "Felix?" Felix looked over Y/N's shoulder to see his dad standing there, a small smile on his face. "Papa!"

He made no point in moving out of Y/N's arms and Sebastian took the hint, merely ruffling the boy's hair. "You doing okay? Y/N take care of the boo-boo?" Felix nodded eagerly. "It doesn't even hurt now," he said proudly and Sebastian smiled. "Did you say thank you?" "He did, Sebastian," Y/N assured him.

"I wish Y/N took care of my boo-boos all the time!" Felix pouted. Sebastian froze again, his eyes darting to Y/N when he saw her stiffen. "How is that possible, sugar?" Y/N joked nervously as she stood up, Felix still in her arms, holding him on her hip like before. "Papa can date you! And then you can get married and then you'll be my mama and then you'll take care of all my boo-boos!"

Sebastian and Y/N stared at each other as Felix innocently looked at Y/N with a huge smile on his face. "M-Married? Bubba, I don't think your papa likes me in that way…" Sebastian suddenly found his voice. How dare she? "Y/N, I do like you, why do you think I flirt with you all the time?" he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Y/N's eyes went wide. "Wait, I thought you were joking—"

"I wasn't. Will you go on a date with me?"

"Sebastian, I-I… I'll be honored."

"Oh please, iubi, the honor's all mine," he chuckled and, not caring about who was watching (including his own son), leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers in a sweet kiss. Y/N's heart fluttered at the term of endearment as she kissed him back. Felix groaned loudly in Y/N's arms, covering his eyes. "Yucky!"

Sebastian and Y/N had to break the kiss because they laughed too hard. Felix slid down Y/N's arms and ran towards Anthony, who was watching them with a small smile, proud of his best friend for finally making a move on the woman he liked. Anthony smirked when the pipsqueak stopped next to him. "Good job, bud."

"Thank you, Uncle Anthony." And Felix gagged again as he and Anthony turned to Sebastian and Y/N, only to see them in another liplock.

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Leave a like if you enjoyed, reblogs will be accepted and appreciated too <3

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan characters #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

[yeojaa]

come over, pt. i

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  this is pwp.  smut in the forms of:  kissing, oral (m/f), fingering, deepthroating, hickeys, protected sex.  use of the pet name shy girl.  wc. 6.2k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif and @snackhobi aka the loves of my tiny life.  author note.  this is an adaption of an rp with my beloved @velvetwicebang​.  while the writing is all my own, i owe so much to loma for inspiring me and being such a wonderful partner. 💛 if you enjoy this, feedback goes a long way.  tysm for reading!  (and yes, there will be a second part.)

You’ve been friends for thirteen months, classmates for another three before that.  You’ve worked on countless projects together, watched him fall off a roof, and have had to bail him out of campus security’s grubby little hands. Your friendship is easy, based on mutual suffering in Professor Kim’s class and long study dates spent in the library.  He smuggled you chocolates in his pockets and you brought iced coffee to the 8 a.m. lecture you shared.

You’re not sure why you’re riddled with uncertainty now then, every nerve ending shot, lit up bright like the still-up mini Christmas tree sitting in the corner of your dorm room.  (You know you should take it down but it’s so cute, slouched ever with a tiny gold star-shaped bell hanging from the end.).  

Spending time with Jungkook was normal - a part of your weekly routine - but then again, you hadn’t somehow developed a weird little crush on him until recently.  

(If you think hard, you could probably pinpoint it to a night a few weeks ago when he looked particularly good, fluffy powder puff of hair stripped of shadow and gleaming gold beneath the warm lecture lights.  You’d never had a thing for blonds but he made it look good - surprising you when he’d dropped into his seat beside you and winked in response to your surprise.) 

(It’s something you can't tear your thoughts from now, that infuriatingly charming smile burnt into your retinas.  It sits at the forefront of your mind, stealing your attention from the movie that's playing on the television hung across from your bed.  One of those blockbuster flicks, because who didn’t love gratuitous action and lens flares?)

A hand reaches for the chip bowl propped between you - homemade chex mix, because you’ve been obsessed with the recipe since discovering it a few weeks ago - and you flinch away when it brushes the hand that's already in there.

"Sorry!"  You squeak before coughing, a quick-witted (but not altogether believable) attempt at hiding the sudden heat that flares across your cheeks.  The same hand disappears between your knees, fingers curling into the soft throw laid over your legs.  You tell yourself to relax at least three times before speaking, peeking at your companion from beneath a fringe of sleep-tousled strands.  “Stop stealing all my chips.” 

The boy beside you only grins, tosses that lazy smile in your direction before turning his attention back to the explosion on the screen, entire expression lit up by the fireworks that explode in flashes of colour.

You think you’ve gotten away with it - that he hasn’t noticed - and then he’s speaking again, pointedly staring forward, seemingly unbothered.  (You know better though.  Jungkook’s infuriating like that, picking up on all the little things despite the fact that he’s a dumb boy, too good at reading between the lines when he barely studies.)

“You’re blushing.”

The callout is, well, uncalled for. 

You choose to ignore him at first, opting to shove two chocolates past your lips.  They’re unbearably sweet, minty and cold - your favourite - and the richness spills across your tongue, eliciting a soft hum as your teeth buzz from the sugar.  (Note to self:  thank Jungkook for the chocolate later.)

“You’re blushing,”  you retort once you’ve swallowed, cheeks puffed out and a dent gathering between your brows.  “I’m just—“  Hand waves wildly - nearly hits him in the face with how wobbly it is - and you pretend-glare at him, faux affront laid in spades.  “—hot.”

It comes snappier than you mean it to, spoken in something close to a pout.  You aren’t actually.  The campus is notorious for having garbage heating, floorboards more akin to packed snow in the dead of winter.  It’s just annoying.  You refuse to be another one of those girls.

(Not that there’s anything wrong with said girls.  It’s more an issue with Jungkook, stupidly handsome and charming and far too popular for his own good.  People already told you all about Jungkook’s escapades - even though you often heard them from him firsthand and in gruelling detail.  One of the downsides to being friends with someone who, for all intents and purposes, carried the title of campus heartthrob.) 

“Pay attention to the movie.”  The same hand reaches for the mix again, careful to avoid brushing his this time.  You think you’ve succeeded, snatching up a piece of pretzel, morsel halfway to your mouth when it drops to your lap.

The same lap that suddenly has a hand on it, palm warm over your knee.  

If you’d thought your nerve endings were shot, now you knew they were.  Every inch of skin was on fire - heat shooting up your spine and over your neck the moment his hand comes in contact with bare skin.  Damn your need for comfort, damn your choice to wear shorts, damn his freaking hot tattooed hands—

You almost yell at him.  The sound’s on the tip of your tongue when you bite down, stare trained wholly on the movie and the blood that splatters across the screen..

Really, you shouldn't be surprised.  You’ve known Jungkook for nearly two years - okay, not quite.  You’ve heard all the rumours about him, the whispered words that sound something like playboy and flirt and be careful.  You know and yet you’ve found yourself in this situation, desperately trying to figure out what the hell is going through his mind as you stare straight ahead, refusing to move a muscle.  

His profile is picture perfect from your periphery;  he's focused too, acting like he's done nothing wrong.  Sly as a fox, as always.

“Still blushing,”  he repeats conversationally, as if he’s commenting on the colour of the sky or how cold it is in your room.  Not as if he’s got a hand where it shouldn’t be, ink spilling over his skin in pretty patterns, burning the shape of it where he touches.

"I didn't blush.”  It’s a retort made for only argument’s sake and even then, without weight.  Feather soft and feeble in an attempt to keep your voice level.  It's hard when you’re burning up, a livewire settled where you feel him.  "I'm not blushing."

It's a lie - you can feel the flush, embarrassment flooding from your cheeks all the way down over your chest.  It’s an inferno beneath your skin, lava coursing through your veins.  

It spreads further and further, blooms somewhere new when his hand drifts lower, tracking across the soft inner of your thigh.  Doesn’t cease even when his hand does, palm firm over your leg, the ghost of a touch passing so close to your core you can’t help but jolt.  It’s as if he’s rearranged your pieces, mixed them all up.  A brush of his finger over your clothed entrance feels like it hits you right in the chest, snaps your heart to attention.  It roars to life, thundering madly, pulse erratic when he repeats the gesture, with that much more pressure.

You’re dripping, you realise to your horror, cotton of your thong sticking to your skin, grey of your shorts made darker by the arousal that spills over the one not-so-innocent digit. 

A part of you wants to run from the room.  Nearly do, heart hammering in your chest when Jungkook's face is suddenly too close, the warmth of his breath stifling against your neck.  It feels good, anticipation and desire fizzing in your stomach like fountain pop.  (The movie theatre kind, that’s somehow flat and too bubbly all at once.)

"Kook."  You mean to say it reproachfully, with a hand pushing his wrist away.  Instead it comes out like a whisper, a soft sigh of his name that sounds almost needy, laced with worry and anticipation that makes you want to tear your own hair out.  Fingers remain locked around bone, other hand digging into the blanket and the linen beneath it, searching desperately for some form of composure beneath the material.  

For the first time, you hazard a glance - know it’ll be bad for your own well-being - dropping your stare to where his hand rests.  (You have to admit - you like the sight of those tattoos, a stark contrast to the unblemished softness.)

Like it almost as much as his kisses, the first of which lands exactly where you want it most.  Delicate, polite, right on the junction of your jaw.  A sigh escapes before you can help it.  "Shy girl,”  he coos, teasing in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. 

“I’m not shy,”  you huff - try to, anyway, around the kaleidoscope of butterflies that are threatening to choke you.  "We're watching a movie."  You’re trying to redirect his attention, even as you’re desperate for it, even as you think you’d give your whole heart for it. 

You’re this close to combusting, eyes widening the moment he extracts his hand and tucks it back into the bowl of chips.  A part of you wants to yell at him - for starting this in the first place but mainly for leaving you high and dry, turned on and soaking through your underwear. 

(It’s not fair, but then again, you’d never expected them to be.  You’ve seen the rules Jungkook plays by - namely those of his own creation.  Term paper due the next morning?  He’d somehow pull it out of his ass that night.  Break something at a house party?  He’d be let off with a smile and a wave, those doe eyes of his utterly lethal when paired with his pout.)

“Watch the movie then.”  He sounds almost bored, utterly unbothered as he seamlessly slips back into the proper role of friend, classmate, study partner.

"Let's."  Without tossing another glance in his direction, you stare straight ahead, own hand delving for snacks.  So what if you very purposely brush your fingers against the pieces he's just touched, popping the pieces into your mouth before slotting your thumb against your tongue, cheeks hollowing around to suck the last bits of salt and butter off.

Despite your nerves - you’re hoping he's watching - you readjust, bringing knees up, crossing legs until one is resting atop his own thick thigh.  The full of your bottom lip disappears between your teeth, worried to within an inch of its life as you shift beside him, seemingly manoeuvring your shorts into their rightful position.

(You’re not.  They’re hitched higher than they were, barely worthy of the title of shorts, more akin to a belt.  So revealing it’s almost uncomfortable, wet of your arousal sticking them to your skin.)

(Two could play this game.)

(Maybe him better than you, but still.)

You know what you’re doing and yet you’re somehow surprised when he’s suddenly disappeared from your side and situated himself in front of you, eating up too much of the space on your small double bed.  “What’re you—“  The question disappears in the same moment he does, unable to track his movements when Jungkook slips forward, pressing his mouth over yours.

You’ve kissed a lot of people.  (Okay, not a lot, but enough.)  You were a senior in college, where kissing was like talking and fucking happened more often than dating.

You’ve never kissed Jungkook before.  

Why hadn’t you?

His lips are terribly soft, pink and pouted, slanting across yours as if he’s trying to devour you.  There’s no semblance of delicacy, nothing gentle and sweet like those brushes against your neck.  They’re forceful, demanding payment in full when his tongue glides over the seam, seeking entrance despite the fact that you think he might’ve slipped in anyway.

There’s not a single wall he couldn’t break down, not a lock he couldn’t pick.  Not with how he moves, purposeful and reassured, tongue sliding over yours, sucking it into his mouth as if it’s something he does every day.  (Which it very well could be - just not with you.)

“Shy girl,”  he repeats with a mouth filled with affection, praise that pours over you honey sweet and sticky.  “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

The thing is, you’re not pretending.  You’re half-afraid this entire moment is going to explode into a thousand pieces, a dream shattered by reality.  You hope it doesn’t.  Couldn’t bear it when he feels so nice, hand spanning your waist, tucked beneath the safety of your shirt and the fleece blanket between you.  

“I’m not.”  

“Oh?”  There’s something in his eyes, something that coils heat in the pit of your stomach.  You swear you can see the devil sitting on his shoulder, gleeful little smile rearranging his features.  “Do I make you nervous, ____?”

Did he?  Of course he did.  Had, even before you’d known him.

(You’d grown comfortable, though.  Found a way to separate the popular heartthrob from your friend.)

But you’ve lost your marbles, gone certifiably insane when you make a noise that sounds nothing like you.  Because you’re once again far too interested in the way Jungkook’s touching you, manhandling you as if you’re some sort of puppet.  It really shouldn’t turn you on so much, slick coating your bare thighs when he guides you onto your back, pushes you back against your too many pillows.

He’s your friend and he’s told you all about the way he fucks girls until they can’t walk.  

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want the same treatment, though. 

The moment Jungkook’s mouth finds your skin - sensitive and soft and so close to your soaked core - you keen, hands immediately flying into his silky head of hair.  It threads between your fingers like fine silk, filaments of gold overlaid in colour by the movie that still plays.  

“Oh my god,”  you gasp, entire body arching off the back of the bed in an effort to bring some form of  relief.  You can’t help the heat that burns your cheeks or how you sound, begging and pleading as you tug gently at his blond roots.  “Don’t tease me.”

You’re not asking very nicely but you figure Jungkook will give in.  It’s his fault, after all.  

His fault - which you don’t mind when he hooks fabric aside and drags his tongue across your slit, the flat of his tongue arching your back from the bed.  Can’t mind when he does it again, rounded nose bumping against your clit.  You’re trying to stay just a little bit decent, moans soft and caught between your teeth.  You’re practically biting a hole through your lip in an effort to stay quiet, hands curled into fists.  Gold spills between them and you imagine it hurts but he doesn’t stop, only works harder to drive you crazy.

Of course he’s good at this.  Too good, if you’re being honest.

You’re dripping, legs trembling in his firm, unyielding grip.  There's molten heat building in your stomach, creeping up your spine, and with each pass of his tongue over your sensitive core, it only expands.  You want more - need it - and almost beg when he catches your clit between his teeth.  A breathy baby spills out on accident when your eyes meet, gaze half-lidded.

It’s bad for your health, how good he looks right now, chin slick, lips rubied and pretty like jewels.  “Shy girl sounds so pretty.”

There's something about his praise that completely ruins you, the words dragging a delighted, sexpot moan off your tongue.  You want him to tell you how pretty you are now and later, over and over.  

You want to be his pretty girl. 

"I want you.  I need more,"  you whine, hips rutting desperately, slick messy across your thighs and shining across Jungkook's mouth.  He smiles then - brighter than the sun, utterly radiant, so devastatingly handsome you swear your brain short circuits - and then he’s doing exactly as you’ve asked. 

He eats you out like it’s an art form, flicking his tongue over your clit with practiced precision, sucking the pearl between his lips.  When he grazes his teeth over it - just the lightest pressure - you jolt, the feeling of a finger sliding into you stealing the breath from your lungs.

He’s always had nice hands, big broad palms and long fingers.  They reach places you could never hope to, stretching you deliciously when he sinks another in alongside the first, exploring you with ease.  The sting is slight, the fullness overriding any pain, further dulled by the suction of his mouth on your clit.  

He even hums when he finds the spot he’s been looking for, hooking his fingers against it and pressing.  (You swear you see stars;  you know you feel him smile, lips spread like butter over your skin when you sob.)

You can’t help yourself, writhing and moaning, trying to ride his face with a desperation that has your chest heaving.  It feels so good to have him between your legs.  You almost miss the appearance of his other hand - in view for but a moment before it disappears past the waistband of his sweats.  Dark as they are, pitch black like most of his clothing, it’s impossible to miss the way he touches himself.  It has you even needier, pussy clenching at the thought of him fisting his own hard cock.

“Do you want a hand?”  You ask as if you’re doing him a favour and not salivating at the prospect, eyes wide, blinking down at him from behind thick lashes.  

“Fuck.”  He’s sin incarnate, undeniable when he sheds his sweats, kicks them off with just one hand, other still slotted snug against your pussy.  He never ceases his movements, fucking you on his fingers even as he sits upright, leaned back on his calves.  “You want a taste?  Shy girl wants a big fat cock in her mouth?”  

There's something about hearing him so turned on, the expletive shooting a dizzying bolt of desire straight between yours legs.  You’ve seen Jungkook worked up - he was awfully competitive, after all, dominating most intramural sports, breaking PR records in the gym - but it's something else completely when he's making you drip cum all over his hand.

"Wow.”

Jungkook's cock is pretty, flushed and glossy from the pre-cum he spreads with his thumb, massaging over the tip like it owes him something.  

You want to taste it.

A contented hum rolls off your tongue at his question, though you don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer.  His ego's big enough without it and you’re much more interested in stroking something else.  Still, you lean into his palm, nuzzling your cheek against the warmth of it when he threads his hand through your hair, gathering it in his fist.

Then without looking away, your mouth falls open, tongue peeking past your lips to lick a fat stripe up the length of his cock, from base to tip.  It's hot and heavy on your tongue, the salty taste of his pre-cum better than candy.  You hum again, swirling your tongue around the head, and keep your gaze locked with Jungkook's, almost smirking when you drag your tongue over his fingers, gently grazing the edge of your teeth against the pad of his thumb. 

“Please.”  You’re usually far more reserved, not the kind to ask for more until you’re three months into dating and certain of where you stand.  You simply can’t help yourself now, the feeling of your own wetness painting your skin, making you clench around nothing.  "I need it."

The groan that comes sounds more like Christmas, a gift given by Santa Claus himself.  It filters into your ears and has you grinning up at him, not even bothering to hide the pride that flutters your lashes and has you pursing your lips around the head of his cock.  

When he speaks again, it’s dangerously quiet, low in his throat, laced with whatever same emotion that seems to shackle your limbs.  “Open up, ____,”  he instructs, though he offers little time to adjust, guiding his cock forward, stuffing your mouth full.  “Show me how bad.”

You don’t mind.  If you were to speak, it’d practically be a prayer, tongue tracing the veins that run the length.  A chorus of yes please more when he takes just as much as he gives.  You love the power that comes with Jungkook speaking so filthily, drunk on it when he continues, spewing filth in time with each rock of his hips.

Lips seal around the swollen head each time he withdraws, cheeks hollowing around the tip.  Tongue passes over his fingers again before your hand rises, fingers curling around his wrist to pull his own away.  (You probably shouldn't - it's too romantic - but thread your fingers through his in the same instant you sink down upon his cock, taking him halfway before pulling off with a pop!)

"Do you think you'll last long enough to fuck me?"  You’re pushing his buttons on purpose, just like he had yours during the movie. 

Something close to a snarl comes, a growl that reverberates out of that big cavernous chest of his, and he grips your hair tighter, tries to hold you still as he grins down at you.  The expression is so at odds with the warmth in his eyes, the boyish tilt of his head.

You repeat the motion again and again, taking him a little bit deeper until the head brushes the back of your throat, reflexively swallowing around the intrusion.  He's still so long and thick you haven’t even taken him all, drooling around his length, breathing through your nose and pushing past the desire to gag.  Then you relax your jaw just a little more, humming when your nose brushes the neatly groomed patch of hair at his base.

Your free hand slinks across his thigh, nails digging into the meat, delighted by the flex of muscle and sinew beneath your hand.  He's so hard, both on your tongue and beneath your touch.  It prompts you to shift forward just a bit more - you can feel the slick on your thighs, dripping down onto the sheets with each movement - and trace across his thigh to gently palm his balls.

If you could speak, you’d probably ask for more.  For Jungkook to use and abuse your throat as much as he wants.  As it stands, you can only moan around him, spit and his pre-cum smeared over your lips.

“Look at you.”  He’s talking to himself, lost in his own world as he fucks into your mouth, soothes the pad of his thumb over your cheek.  You adore the way he sounds now, dazed and a little messed up.  “Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, ____.”

You can’t do much more than look up at him, batting your lashes when he compliments you, dragging your tongue everywhere you can reach as the head of his cock batters the back of your throat.  It's not an easy feat, drool all the way down your chin, trailing down your neck and staining the silk of your camisole.

At some point, you’ll need to pull off - get a proper breath of air - but not now.  Instead, you swallow around him, savouring the feeling of him filling your mouth, and squeeze gently at his balls.  When you wink up at him, it's half-hearted and with moisture in your eyes, lining lashes in the form of little gemstones.

You do it again and again, moaning lewdly around his cock before it gets too much, pulling off of him with a gasping breath and tears down your cheeks.  “Is it my turn yet?”  You’re only half-joking, made needier by the soreness in your throat, the same you want to feel so desperately between your legs.  Pressing a sweet, chaste peck to his head, tongue dipping into his slit to gather the pre-cum that leaks out, you offer the sweetest smile you can, saccharine sweet and soft.  

“Your turn?”  The way Jungkook snorts is derisive, playful.  It pulls straight off his tongue - which finds yours, swapping spit as he guides you back to the bed.  Teeth collide, lips grown swollen by the intensity of your kiss, and you startle when he nips hard at the bottom petal.  “I thought you were shy.”

“I am,”  you retort, returning the gesture, biting into the curve of his jaw with surprising repose.  Colour blooms beneath the edge of enamel, a smattering of colour that makes you smile, eager to leave more.

Which you would do, if Jungkook weren’t stripping before you, peeling his shirt from his front, tugging it over his head in that weirdly hot way that somehow all boys did.  It reveals skin in a single fluid pull, clothing discarded to the side before he levels you with a smile of his own, one that stirs to life the dimple in his cheek, eyes squinting with the intensity of his delight.  He looks deceptively sweet this way, nothing like the demon who’d just stuffed his cock down your throat.

You’re not sure which version of him you like best.

Seeing him now, dressed in nothing but that absurd, devilishly handsome grin of his, you’re not prepared.  You’re unsure where to look, gaze bouncing between the tattoos that crawl up his arms and span over his left pec, down the neatly defined ridges of his abs, and all the way back to his swollen, shiny cock.

“You’re drooling.”  Of course it’s something he’d say - because he always knows what to say, plucking perfect words from thin air.  The casual banter calms the rattle in your chest and refocuses it on his face that’s too close, looming over yours as his hands make quick work of your clothes, shedding the fabric from your form with deft, measured movements.

You’re ready to say something teasing - anything to distract from the fact that you’re still ogling him - when he catches you in another kiss, softer this time, infinitely sweeter.  Suddenly, you’re shy - which really makes no sense, given what’s transpired.

"Don't make fun of me,"  you mumble, as bashful as you were during the movie, embarrassment burning across your cheeks.  Arms rise to cover what little of your chest you can, folding around his broad palms that encompass them whole, tweaking at the straining buds.

“I’m not,”  Jungkook reassures against your lips, face dropping into the crook of your neck.  He nuzzles against you, sucking affection into the column of your throat, shamelessly laying a wreath of lust into the delicate skin.  You wonder whether he can hear the stutter of your pulse, the reaction his next words elicit.  “You’re pretty when you do it.”

You can’t quite pull your eyes away from his face, shrouded in lemon tart, so good-looking it’s unfair; his broad back and the muscle that threads it, undulating with each movement;  or the way his thighs flex between your spread knees.  You’re dragged through heaven and hell by the brush of his lips, each glide overstimulating your senses to the point of no return.  You’re still burning up, all the foreplay leaving your legs like jelly, cunt dripping with need.  "I bet you say that to all the girls."

Probably not the best thing to say with the position you’re in but the reality of the situation is hitting you and you’re feeling a little vulnerable.  Want an answer that’ll soften the sharp edges of his teeth, the intoxicating glint in his stare.

“No, just you.”  Whether it’s true or not, you can’t say for certain.  You hope it is - wish upon a star for it, laying all your hopes and dreams into the constellations in his eyes.  They’re lovely, winking down at you from the darkest depths, guiding you home.  

You don’t mean to scoff - really, you don’t.  It comes of its own accord, spilling forth like a glass too full.

“You don’t believe me?”  He sounds almost offended, the picture of innocence when he reaches down, hand scrambling about for pooled black fabric.  Comes back up with a packet between his index and middle finger, held aloft like a prize.  

How can you when he’s ready to devour you whole, primed to feast as he rolls the condom over his length, stroking himself once, twice, gaze never wavering from where it rests between your legs.

“Always prepared.”  It’s scathing but somehow tender, too mesmerised by the way he fucks into his loose fist.  You’d say more - maybe make a flippant comment about his reputation - but can’t find the words when he’s teasing you, swollen head tapping teasingly over your core.  It feels like too much, leaves you breathless when he hikes your legs up and nearly folds you in half. 

When he presses into you, the sound you make is sinful, a moan you can’t help.  Jungkook’s so fucking big you’re sure you’re about to split in half, pussy clenching tight around the sudden intrusion.  “Oh my god,”  you whine, hands coiling into his hair, trying desperately to relax, the sting of the stretch battling the pressure that builds as he sinks further in.  “You’re so big.  I c-can’t—”  You’re starting to babble nonsense and he hasn’t even begun moving yet, lips hot over the sweat-slick column of his throat when he bows, burning his presence into the grace of your neck.  A hickey of your own creation blooms right where your mouth is, right over his shoulder.  The salt of his skin distracts you, makes it easier to accommodate the fullness.  “You feel so good, Kook.”  You rock experimentally beneath him, clenching tight as if to draw him deeper.  “Please, move,”  you beg, aiming to form another bruise beneath his skin.

The first thrust chases all the breath from your lungs, a gasp ricocheting off your tongue and into the minimal space between you.  He's absurdly big, stretching you out so well that every stroke feels like heaven.  When he pushes back in, snaps his hips in that easy, effortless motion of his, you’re making the most obscene noises, words lost to his hair as he lavishes your tits with attention.

B-big! is all you manage to squeak out.  It sounds like that, anyway.  With how he's filling you, it's hard to speak coherently;  you can practically feel him in your throat.  (Or maybe that's just from choking on him earlier.  You’re not really sure.)

Hands find their way around his neck, over his shoulders, periwinkle-painted nails leaving light etchings in their wake.  They bloom colour over his back - not too hard, careful still, motor skills barely functioning - before you tangle your fingers in his hair, holding him recklessly close as the pressure builds and builds, flooding your abdomen in heat. 

There’s slick all across your thighs.  You can hear the wet sounds each time Jungkook slips almost all the way out and then rocks back in.  It's terribly messy and so hot but you’re greedy, drunk off the feeling of having this Adonis break you in half.  "Harder, p-please."  Eyes wide, you tug gently at the soft strands at the nape of his neck, meeting his with a flutter of your lashes.  "Please?"

He acquiesces without hesitation, fucks you harder, deeper, like an animal in a rut.  Grinds against you with each thrust, pushing you to your limits.  Even has the audacity to push further, until the strain in your hips conflicts with the pleasure skipping up your spine, melting you into a boneless mass.

You’ve never felt like this, stretched out and used.  You’re used to gentle lovers, sweet - if not boring - lovemaking.  The way Jungkook's pounding into you is unheard of and you’re loving it, his name whimpered on a feedback loop.  A steady Kook, Kook, Kook that twinkles in your ears, inarticulate and pleading as you rock shamelessly against him.

“You like that, ____?”  It’s a question for his own ego, something he knows but asks anyway.  (It’d be impossible not to know the answer when your cunt’s sucking him in, coating his cock in a pretty sheen.)

You’re nodding dumbly, breathless, eager to meet him each time he snaps forward.  (It’s not easy like this, practically prone beneath him, twisted into a pretzel.)  "Like it so m-much.  Feels so good.”  You can’t stop smoothing open mouthed kisses over his fluffy hair, basking in the sunshine that radiates off him. 

There's an ache starting between your legs, pussy swollen around his thick length.  You’re grateful for your natural flexibility, the hot yoga sessions you’d entertained on-and-off for years.  You’re sure you’d feel it in your legs too, knees pushed all the way up by your ears, if not for that.  

But still, you’re defenceless, made to experience each and every thing he has to offer:  every vein and ridge, the head of his cock reaching so deep it's almost too much.  With each stroke, Jungkook’s brushing against the sensitive spot that has pleasure skyrocketing, blossoming like a rose garden in spring.  "R-right there,"  you manage, rolling your hips purposefully, nearly crying each time he brushes against your g-spot.

“Right there?”  He parrots it back, infuriating and adorable, the teasing tenor dripping over you like raindrops.  They settle beneath your skin, sinking into your bones as he rears back just enough, enough to steal a kiss that’s far more tongue than it needs to be.  

It’s almost as if he’s trying to drown you, sink you beneath high tide.  

Spit descends down your chin, trails over your neck and it’s a little gross but you don’t care.  The attention he’s giving is shameless, passed over your cheeks, your throat, your breasts.  He gives and gives, both with his lips and the praise that comes unfettered.  “Perfect,”  he hums, sucking your nipple into his mouth, worrying the bud until it’s straining and puffy, too sensitive when he kisses you again and your own thigh brushes against it.  You whimper at the feeling, pulling softly at his hair, unsure whether you want less or need more.  “So sensitive.  Such a shy girl.  Such a pretty girl.”

Every word of praise has you beaming, nearly purring with delight despite the pain that comes when he puts you through the same once more, laving over the other bud with abandon.  He's sweat-slick, beads of it running down his neck, over the mosaic of bruises you’ve left behind.  It's almost embarrassing how dark his throat is coloured, a dozen reminders left all over his skin.

(You wonder how long they’ll last, how many days will pass as the colour shifts, changing like autumn leaves.  Whether they’ll still be there at your next lecture, if he’ll wear them with pride or cover up beneath one of his big baggy sweaters.)

(You hope it’s the latter.)

(Maybe he’ll let you give him more.)

(Maybe he—)

There’s a change of pace and you’re crying out, hiccupping with each thrust, the head of his cock finding your g-spot with unbearable, unrelenting precision.  Clawing at his arms, long nails digging into the firm muscle of his biceps, something between a sob and a plea rolls off your tongue, over and over.  "So big.  It's too m-much.”  And yet you don’t want him to stop, punch drunk from the way he reaches deep and pulls you tighter against him, hips risen off the bed. 

You’re begging again, eyes rolled so far back in your head you can hardly focus, the coil in your stomach pulled so tight you know it's about to snap.  When Jungkook laughs - a sweet giggle that proves his duality - you clench almost painfully, tears finally spilling over. 

One last brush against your most sensitive spot, one last thrust of that monster cock, and you’re peaking, coming so intensely you feel as if you’re soaring. Everything's suddenly so much more wet, release soaking into the linens beneath you, coating your thighs and his legs and dripping between you.

You’ve never come like this before, without some sort of direct stimulation on your clit.  It’s pleasurable in a different way, severing all your sensibilities, explosive in its magnitude.  It tingles beneath your skin, flooding all your senses. 

"Kook—please—come for me.”  You’re rocking up, forward - trying to, at least, folded as you are - singing his name, pleading for him to fuck his cum into you (momentarily ignorant to the fact that you’ve been responsible, a thin wall of latex separating you from your fucked out fantasy).  

Despite the sensitivity, you’re clenching around him, eager to bring him to his own high.  You want to feel him come apart above you, eroded into a mess like you are.

He’s just as pretty reaching his peak as he is at any other time, handsome face screwed up as if he’s reached nirvana, bliss slacking his features the longer he rides it out, bucking into you as he fills the condom and still doesn’t stop.  It’s almost unbearable, oversensitivity spilling into pleasure until he leisurely grinds to a halt, stops the inconsistent pressure against your bundle of nerves, the assault on your fluttering walls.

When he collapses against you, whole face squished between the valley of your breasts, you can’t help but laugh, the sound breathless and endeared.  “Are you okay?”  You don’t mind where he is, weight comforting, skin sticky on yours.  He’s unbelievably warm - a blanket fresh from the wash and yet so much better, lulling you into a sense of security.

“Better than okay,”  he murmurs against your chest, smothering open-mouthed kisses over skin, snickering when you jolt at the feel of his teeth over your nipple one last time.  “You’re welcome.”  It’s an indulgent, facetious expression of gratitude, one that you haven’t asked for.  You laugh all the same, ducking your head into the crown of spun gold atop his head.  

“You too.”

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @codeinebelle​

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #ficswithluv #magicshopnet #thebtswritersclub #networkbangtan #heartsforbts #bts #bts au #bts imagine #bts drabble #bts oneshot #bts fluff #bts jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you #work.zip #drabble.zip #jungkook.doc

[wannabe-fic-writer]

WandaNat x Reader : Inhale pt. 2

Summary: She never ceases to surprise you.

Warning: Smoking, Cursing, One Suggestive Joke

Word Count: 1,998

Part 1

* * * * * *

The white paint stares back at you as you lay on your bed. Your view of the ceiling is obscured by the red ball you toss up into the air. It gets slightly smaller as it moves away from you, then larger as it falls back down. 

Your hand catches it and throws it back up into the air, repeating the same process as the tv plays on monotonously from the corner of the room.

Boredom has been washed over you for the past few days. Your girlfriends went on a mission last week. You were able to pass the time during the first week, keeping yourself distracted by hanging around the team, training with Steve, going for a run every time your fingers twitched towards the cigarettes you had hidden in your closet. All of that was failing to work right now.

It seems, though, that you don’t have to suffer through it much longer. F.R.I.D.A.Y chimes up after hours of quiet with an alert that Natasha and Wanda were back and heading to the room. 

You instantly perk up, pushing yourself to a sitting position on the bed and glancing at the door frequently, ready for your girls to walk in. Except they don’t.

The gleeful, happy to be home, response you were expecting is replaced by their clearly upset demeanors. A frown sits on Wanda’s face like you’ve never seen and Natasha’s expression remains neutral. 

They don’t acknowledge you save for a glance in your direction. Both of them go into the closet and quickly change into more comfortable clothes. In an instant afterwards they’re leaving out. And you’re left beyond confused.

With the possible reasons for their behavior and clear attitudes in your head, you don’t take offense to it. You give them some time to cool off, going back to tossing your ball in the air and catching it as you watch tv. 

Around an hour or two later you decide they’re fine now, or at least fine enough to talk to. So you get up, heading first to the kitchen to grab a bottle of cold water and then to the general training room. 

The sound of familiar huffs and the pounding of fists against a leather bag let’s you know your assumption was right. Your redheaded love is off to the fair side of the gym, headphones in her ears as she beats on the punching bag. 

You smirk at the sight of her. Not only do her yoga pants and sports bra look great on her, you always find her focused and slightly aggressive expression kind of hot. She glances at you as you approach and you know she can hear you despite her headphones.

Stopping behind the bag, you lean on it, showing off your smirk to the woman.“ If you really want to work off your frustrations I can think of a good way to do so.” Natasha grunts, rolling her eyes and focusing on punching the bag. 

With a sigh, you move to her side, gently taking her taped up hands and moving in front of her. Forest green eyes look into yours and you give her your best encouraging smile. She knows what your silent question is and sighs.

“The mission went south. We suffered a civilian casualty and others got hurt.” Her expression and tone remain neutral but obviously she’s upset about this. It isn’t her first time dealing with this kind of thing from a mission but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t hate every bit of it. 

“I’m sorry to hear that baby.” You raise your hands to her arms and gently rub them, squeezing a little in between.

Natasha’s heart warms at your soft comforts.“ I’ll be okay. Wan is more torn up than I am. She-” The woman shakes her head,“ she blames herself.” 

You frown, prepared to ask for more details. Then you figure you can ask the girlfriend who’s more deeply affected by it. 

“I’ll go talk to her.” Natasha nods at your words.“ You gonna be okay?” A teasing smile forms on your lips.“ I know you’re my super tough ex-assassin but I’m here if you want to talk.”

Her lips tug up in the corner at your teasing words, but it quickly becomes a sincere smile when you offer your ear. Slowly reaching up, she runs the pad of her thumb along the apple of your cheek.“ I’m okay detka. I’ll let you know if I need to talk. Or your other services.” 

You chuckle softly and nod. Leaning forward, you press a soft, quick kiss to her lips and part, heading off to find your other girlfriend. The not so tough witchy one you love just as much. 

Finding the woman proved to be a little harder than you thought it would be. She wasn’t in any of the places you thought she would be in: the library, the theater, the common room. You wrack your brain for ideas as to where she is and when the last place pops into mind, you can’t believe you hadn’t thought of it first.

It’s a quick jog to the elevator and an even shorter ride up to the top floor. From there you take the stairs up to the roof. 

She’d stolen this spot from you a few months after you started dating. She and Natasha found you up there smoking once and through the year and a half she would find you up here, sometimes sneaking a smoke when you shouldn’t be. 

Her long brown tresses fall down her back freely, the rest of her beauty hidden as she faces away from you. Though you still find her insanely cute that she’s in your hoodie and some stretch pants. 

The long slow straightening of her form clues you in on her deep breath, her body relaxing as she lets it go. You only get a little confused when she pauses and does it again. A thought that you’re unsure of, but the physical cues make you curious. The familiar movement of her arm, the deep breath, the pause. 

“Wan?” You call with an indescribable look on your face. 

Your brunette girlfriend’s shoulders drop and she turns to you. Immediately your eyes focus on the small cylinder in between her fingers, watching as it rises and rests between her lips. 

She takes a quick pull, pauses, let’s a little smoke go, then it all comes out in a straight shot that disperses in the air. It’s such a smooth combination of actions that leaves you wondering if she’d done this before. 

Deciding to hold your comment on that until after she’s completely calm, you take a different route. Approaching her still pacing form, you cross your arms and ask,“ was it that bad?” 

A snort leaves her lips and she takes another drag.“ Worse.” 

“Tell me.” Your hand reaches for her free one and you pull her towards you as you sit on the ledge of the roof. 

Her hand squeezes yours. Your eyes drop from her green ones to her lips as they wrap around the cylinder again, cheeks caving a little, then her lips puckering slightly as she pushes the smoke out. 

“I heard Natasha get hurt,” she starts, fingers once again tightening around yours,“ I looked away for a split second and he got away. We caught him but not until after he shot the tires out on a car. It flipped and crashed into another one.” Her jaw clenches, eyes glossing with tears.“ He hurt a man and his son and- and killed a woman.”

A heavy sigh leaves your lips and you stand, pulling her a little closer to your form. You’d been down this road a number of times. Being on the Avengers team since the beginning almost, you know exactly what it’s like to make a mistake and have others pay for it. It was a deep hole that never ceased to make you hate yourself. But you didn’t want Wanda feeling that way. 

“Hey,” you reach a hand up to cup her cheek, looking into her eyes,“ I know that it hurts. And it’s easy to blame yourself. But it’s not your fault. He made the choices that resulted in that woman losing her life, not you.” 

“But I’m supposed to be the hero. I’m supposed to save people. And I didn’t.” Her accent thickens as she gets choked up, eyes glossing over.

You sigh, taking the cigarette from her hand and putting it out on the ledge, then pull her into your arms. Her head rests on your shoulder and her hands slip up to your shoulder blades.“ You are a hero. A great hero. However, you’re not a perfect one. None of us are. It sucks in situations like this but you can’t save everyone no matter how much we want to. It doesn’t make you a bad person or any less of a hero.”

From the flicker of emotions in her eyes, you can tell it’s still going to take some time for her to cope with this. Still though you see a glimpse of that soft look and you can also see that she believes you to a certain extent.

Raising your hand, you gently push the corner of her lips up. She whines and turns her head away, noncommittally pushing at your side. It makes you laugh and she presses her forehead against your chest.

“Wanna tell me where you got that cigarette from?” You ask. 

She pulls away, producing a pack of cigarettes. Brows furrowing, you flip the top up and count the cigarettes inside. There were four missing.

“Did you smoke four whole cigarettes before I got up here?” An incredulous tone laces your words, disbelief flooding your system. 

Has your habit rubbed off on her? You know she and Nat found it attractive but did that lead Wanda to try it? It’s a terribly unhealthy habit, which is why your girlfriends wanted you to stop, and you certainly didn’t want Wanda getting into it.

“No, I didn’t smoke four. I got these from your boot in the closet,” she tells you.“ Which means you smoked them.”

“I-” you try to think of what to say.“ That was over the course of a few weeks. I haven’t had one in months though.” You know you didn’t need to give her an explanation but you wanted her to know you were still doing well. 

Wanda and Natasha were very well aware of your progression towards quitting. They could even tell the difference in your behavior. Both women were incredibly proud and admittedly you were proud of yourself as well. You had confidence you would be able to completely quit in the fairly near future. 

The younger woman smiles softly at you,“ I know you haven’t. And you don’t have to worry about me starting. It’s actually very nasty and I didn’t feel it did anything for my stress.” 

“Good. I don’t want you forming an addiction and I don’t want to die if Nat found out you’d started by smoking my cigarettes.” 

“She knows now.” 

Nearly jumping a foot in the air, you turn around to see your other girlfriend smirking a little at you. A nervous chuckle leaves your lips and you scratch the back of your neck. 

Rolling her eyes, Natasha steps to the side to stand beside you and Wanda. Her hand slipping into yours, the other held up towards Wanda. 

Wanda sighs and places the pack of cigarettes in Natasha’s hand. The redhead pockets them then takes the younger woman’s hand.“ Neither of you smoke again.” She states plainly. 

Looking at Wanda, you both nod.“ Never again Miss Romanoff.” You and Wanda say simultaneously, bright smiles shown to Natasha.

It’d be harder than that for you but not impossible. Especially not with the support and encouragement of the two women you loved and needed the most.

* * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows​ @natasha-danvers​ @blackxwidowsxwife​ @yumusak-yastik​ @b-5by5​ @fayhar​ @lostandsearching​ @iliketozoneout​ @ecruzsalaz

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat #wandanat fic #wandanat x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #reader insert

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

Graveyard Siblings (4)

I am sorry for not posting in a while. School is a total bitch. Here is part 4 of a fic that is not a fic.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 3)

-------

Tall Marinette.(I admit I might be projecting a little here.)

One day, she took out something from someplace high and the whole family realized that ‘holy shit when did you get so tall?’

Bonus if Jason comes back from a long mission and had a wtf moment because she was wearing 6-inch-heels and met his eyes with them on.

“Pixie?!”

------

You know how Bruce has the identity of Matches Malone to infiltrate the Gotham Underground.

While Jason does the drug deals more street crime stuff, Maria uses an excuse of being the representative for Red Hood excuse to mingle with the rich people who does crime on the side (Penguin), she uses it to go to black market auctions and buy some of the lost miraculouses which got into the hands of black market dealers.

Jason knows about it and acts as her ‘bodyguard’ anytime he can or sends one of his henchmen to be one with a death threat if she gets a single scratch on her.

Bruce is unaware of this. Or is he?

------

Mari helps with running WE since she is a little less busy with the vigilante side of things.

It started with Tim panicking about deadlines and Mari offering to help, to Bruce and Tim bullying the board to have her as co-CEO.

She has to be that and head of Afterlife. So she is very busy. Doesn’t know about what comes next….

------

Somehow the class comes to Gotham for a trip. It has been 3 years since her death.

Mari has changed her appearance since the day she left Paris. She has highlights in her hair after a ‘sibling bonding day’ with Jason. Her hair is kept short for convenience and not in pigtails. Along with her tall height and more confident aura, she is almost unrecognizable.

She rides a motorcycle too.

The class waits in the lobby for the tour and in walks this badass woman with aviator sunglasses, leather jacket and designer clothes which was all MT brand, making a lot of people swoon.

She takes off her glasses and walks past the class. Checking stuff on her phone and sipping coffee in her other hand.

She seems familiar but they couldn’t figure out why. (All except Chloe, Alix and Felix who are snickering in the background.)

Lila sees her and comments on how she must be a criminal with the way she dresses. (Lila internally freaks out because were her eyes messing with her? Because she looked a little like Marinette. Also jealous of the new arrival for stealing all the attention.) Alya takes the bait and calls security to ‘arrest’ her.

They just laugh. The class doesn’t understand, speaking in confused French.

-------------

“I am Maria Todd-Wayne, also known as designer MT. CEO of Afterlife and co-CEO of the very company you are in. I am allowed in here. Don’t judge a book by its cover.” she said in perfect French.

“But Lila told us you can’t speak French.”

“Who?”

“Lila Rossi, your friend. She told us that you and MT were dating.”

“Me dating myself. Okay I love myself because self-love is a thing but that is a whole other level. MT are my initials. Anyone who has a brain could have figured that out or at the very least do a Google search. I am not sure where your friend got that notion.”

“Hey, Bean, come on. We have a long day ahead of us.” Tim reminded her.

“Goodbye but cease the rumours or you would be escorted off the premises.”

As they rode up the elevator, “Tim, why are they here?”

“They are the lucky winners of the Wayne Enterprise Young Prodigies Contest. Why, Maria?”

“Lucky, huh.” She muttered under her breath. She might as well tell him. They are the Bats and they will find out anyway. “They are from my old class, the one you know…”

“Oh. Want me to send them back? I can do that if they are making you uncomfortable.”

“Nah. Too much to deal with. And it is unfair to send them back over a petty grudge. Besides, I could have some fun.”

“Anything that Bruce and I should be worried about?”

“I swear no killing. Just because Jason came back from the dead, hell-bent on killing. Doesn’t mean I am too.”

“Cool, just don’t do any property damage or traumatize our employees.”

“I might need you to erase some footage later and tell Bruce about this.”

“Some brownies, my favourite coffee cake, the ‘special’ brew and you have yourself a deal.”

-----

So basically she just showed up around where the class was ‘by coincidence’.

Talk to a few people and take them out of earshot of the rest of the class.

End the conversation by saying a few things only they and her would know. Insides jokes and secrets. (I pick her old childhood friends like, Nino, Kim and maybe Sabrina)

Uses Trixx to turn into a walking dead version of her 15-year old self and disappears as they freak out about how she knew that secret/story.

Freaks them out further by appearing again in front of the whole class and pretending not to know their previous conversation.

Mari manages to get Lila alone.

I should also say that Lila thought that her curse was making her see MT as Marinette.

It terrifies Lila when she finds out that MT is actually Marinette, not dead but alive after all this time and apparently living the high life she wanted. This fact made the Italian swell up with jealousy.

“I hope you are not lying about me again, Lila Rossi. Like you always do.”

“What do you want with me? I swear I didn’t say anything else about you.”

“Aw, Lila. Don’t recognize me?”

Maria flickers and Ladybug is in her place and later, the Marinette that appeared in her bedroom and back to normal.

“You! How? Why are you here? Why can’t you leave me alone?”

“Why not? I mean you did take away nearly all my friends, my parents and made my life a living hell. If you think about it, I am just repaying you the same favor. How are the others? Treating you well?”

“What did you do to me, you bitch?”

“I just put a curse on you. The ghosts of your past will haunt you until you stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop Lying, Liar. They all feed and grow in power from your lies. I wonder what would happen in a few years if you kept this up.”

“You think you can get away with this. This is war and I have already beaten you once.”

“Oh Rossi. This isn’t a war. It’s a death sentence.” With that she disappears.

Lila tries to tell her class that MT is actually Marinette. She is met with crazy looks. Some of them look like they want to believe her but don't because they don’t want to look crazy too.

Oh. Adrien wasn’t on the trip because his mother didn’t want him to go to the crime capital of America although the crime rate has gone down a little due to Hellbat curing some of the city’s bad energy..

Right after Lila told the class about MT, Scarecrow came to steal some Wayne tech and the class got caught in the crossfire. So later, it was brushed off as Lila seeing things due to the fear toxins.

-----

Joker made the mistake of kidnapping her. Once was enough to never try that again.

(It involved the use of nearly all of the Miraculouses, old and new. He was thoroughly humiliated at the end of it and his picture by the time Hellbat was done with him was on the Batfam’s Christmas Card. Like I said she doesn’t kill but making them beg for death was okay.)

It coincided with Jason’s Birthday and the video of the incident was ‘the best birthday present ever.’ The uncensored version was watched at the next undead siblings bonding day. Damian included.

After hearing a few rumours about what happened, most criminals were glad for Hellbat’s rare appearances. (which happens once a month and during really busy time of the year)

There was a time where Penguin was carrying out one of their plans and when Hellbat showed up, all of their thugs surrendered instantly. (No Batman did not pout at the fact that this French girl was more imitating than him.)

Scarecrow used his newest batch of fear toxin on her during the first year after she died.

He was astounded to see her still standing and she later proceeded to beat the crap out of him while being under the toxin’s influences.

He has tried to stay out of her way since then.

She saw Scarecrow as Hawkmoth and said a lot of things in French which scared everyone because she said it with so much hate, anger and in a very menacing tone that everyone is like ‘I am not touching this.’

It took Red Hood and Nightwing to restrain her from further beating Scarecrow up.

He was one of the people who sympathised with the Joker after the Incident.

The next was Riddler being so arrogant in his plans and managed to get Hellbat and Spoiler into a death trap.

“You know I have a few regrets in life. And my final one is that I got captured and am now going to get killed by a walking fashion disaster.”

“Hey! I made this myself. I will have, you know.”

“You have a brilliant mind but no sense of fashion at all. When I get out of here, I am going to burn that thing with you in it, for your crimes against fashion.”

“What is wrong with it?”

Cue a lot of roasting of Riddler’s costume and Spoiler adding more fuel to the fire.

They manage to escape while Riddler is crying on the floor, having an existential crisis.

The thing was no one knows why Riddler was silent the entire week after encountering Hellbat and crying when anyone mentions it.

They now think Hellbat is the scariest one in the Batfamily, second to Batman and tied with Black Bat/Orphan.

The few who find out what really happened in the warehouse that night. Blackmail material on the Riddler.

Three ( four if you count Penguin) of Gotham’s biggest villains of the Rogues Gallery scared of Bats’ newest addition. Hellbat was not someone they wanted to mess with.

---------

Magic crisis stuff. Like a world ending event thing. Dr. Fate says they need the Miraculous jewels but the last mention of them had been in Paris a few years ago and had vanished since then.

Costantine looked at Batman. “You know who you have to call.”

Batman calls Hellbat. Who hasn’t been introduced yet to the JL.

“Ah. Bats. Not that I question your authority or anything but how can your newest ‘ward’ help us?”

She takes off her helmet and reveals her face and more importantly, her earrings.

Tikki comes out of her hiding place.

“I am the current Guardian of the Miracle Box and wielder of the Ladybug miraculous during Hawkmoth’s reign in Paris a few years ago. Any other Questions?”

“Oh great Guardian. Tikki. It is an honour to meet you.”-Wonder Woman, who else.

“You too, Princess Diana. Pass on my regards to your mother.”-Tikki

A huge face-off and the big evil is defeated.

WW asks abt HM and gives a horrified face at the end of her story. Nearly everyone who eavesdropped on the conversation was.

"Forgive me, Guardian for not aiding you in your hour of need.”

“It’s okay. I understand that there are other crises, world-ending ones that JL have to take care of. I am better now. Mostly.”

“I doubt it with those revenge schemes I found lying around. But she is getting there with her therapist.”-Batman

“I hate you, Dad.”

“Did you just call him Dad?”

“No….”

“Do you see me as a father figure?”

“I see you as a nuisance with how nosy you are with my personal business. So you are more of a bother figure.”

“I see you as part of the family too, Daughter.” (Got that reference anyone?)

“Jason was the one who adopted me.”

“Legally you are adopted by me.”

Maria with Pikachu surprised face because nobody told her that. “My life is a lie.”

-------

(Part 5)

#graveyard sibling #platonic jasonette #maribat #mlb x dc #platonic daminette #platonic timinette #some class salt #lila salt #lila bashing #joker doesn't look good here either #platonic! jasonette #siblings jasonette #platonic timminette #marinette and stephanie teaming up to rip into Riddler's costume

[221bshrlocked]

i. Initiation

Stirring Sensations Masterlist

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2325

Warning: lots of really inapropro thots all because of that.fucking.chain.

A/N: I’ve had a really bad week and it only got worse last night and I almost had to go to the ER but crisis averted everyone and I’m about to fuck up this presentation but I needed to write this because wow we’re all so horny for this man and that chain he wore during the D23 Expo 2019. Also, this tiktok didn’t help. There might be a second, more NSFW part. Depends on if yall like this :)

You couldn't stop staring at it. Lord knows you tried your hardest to be aware of the conversation going on but it was impossible.  It wasn't even anything special, just a shiny little chain, and yet you were absolutely hypnotized by the way it hung around his neck. Why you found it absolutely mesmerizing with that shirt you would never know but there was something about the way he carried himself around, especially today, that had you wishing you were bold enough to say something. But no, he was a friend. And he was kind enough to invite you to an after-party with his colleagues whom you still tried your hardest to act naturally around. 

But fucking hell this was hard. It kept on swinging around with every little movement he took, whether he was motioning dramatically with his hand as he explained something about one of the scenes or was simply leaning over and laughing over something Jon said. It was just...there. Taunting you. Begging for your attention. Any kind of attention. 

You kept on staring at it as you drank your wine, occasionally nodding along to pretend you weren’t imagining biting down on the chain and tasting his sweat on it as he fucked you into the mattress. It was getting difficult with every passing moment though, especially when he had to nudge you a few times to ask your opinion on something and furrowed his eyebrows when you apologized and told him to repeat his question. 

You thought you were being subtle enough but then Pedro leaned over and whispered something in your ear and you all but lost control, the sharp intake of breath making him lean away and ask if he’d done something wrong.

“N-no sorry I- god, I think I drank too much. I just need...some fresh air. Be back in a minute.” Pedro stared at you as he nodded, and you watched as his hand slipped under his shirt to scratch at his clavicle, the action forcing your eyes to the chain yet again. Before you could stop yourself, your tongue was peaking out and licking your lower lip, wishing it could lick across the shiny necklace if only for a second. Once you realized what you’d just done, you raised your eyes and met his, finding the usually umber brown eyes dilated and unforgiving in their gaze.

And then he mirrored your actions and licked his lips and you knew you needed to get away from him before you made a fool out of yourself. 

“Excuse me,” you smiled at everyone and walked to the balcony of the restaurant, finding a quiet and private spot in the corner overlooking the awfully busy street. Taking a deep breath, you shut your eyes and leaned against the wall, finally allowing your mind to give into the pathetically filthy thoughts involving Pedro’s fucking chain of all things. You thought of what it would feel like to pull on it as he kissed the air out of your lungs. Wished you could twirl it around your fingers as he licked and nipped down your neck before slipping his hands beneath your pants. Fuck, what you would give to just bite down on it, maybe lick it and his skin as he used you to get his cock off. Would he let you suck on his neck, that glorious fucking neck that was somehow always glistening and smooth and so fucking inciting? Would he moan when you tell him how sexy you found it, especially with that floral shirt? Goddamn that shirt. It was so loud and yet he pulled it off. And with those light brown pants that were positively tight and almost left nothing to the imagination...

But none of that compared to how captivating he looked with that chain. It was very rare for Pedro to look unattractive in whatever clothes his stylist picked out for him. Actually, that wasn’t true. Pedro never looked bad in anything, even if it was a worn down sweatshirt or jeans. He just always looked nice and you weren’t sure if it was because you’ve had these feelings for him for so long or if it was because he was an honest-to-god sex symbol. 

You rubbed at the base of your throat, thinking of worshiping him and kissing down his neck before he forced you down on your knees and fucked your face. And to hear that voice, that beautiful, deep, hoarse voice as he moaned and swore and growled at you as you pleasured him. What a sight he would be. 

When you took longer than he anticipated, Pedro excused himself and walked past the balcony doors, surveying the large open area and almost walking back in when he didn’t find you anywhere. But then he noticed you in the corner near the edge of the railing, tilting his head to the side when he saw how hard you were breathing. He approached you carefully, his eyes taking in the way you were rubbing at your neck and harshly you were biting down on your lower lip. 

So busy imagining the touch of his hand on your heated skin, you didn’t notice Pedro’s presence until he broke you from your haze with a concerned question.

“Are you okay?”

You jumped and grabbed at your chests when you heard Pedro, rolling your eyes when he started laughing and apologized before rubbing your arms to calm you down. 

“Jesus Christ you scared the fuck out of me. God, how many times did I tell you not to do that?” You gulped before turning to the railing, trying to calm your heart rate so he didn’t suspect anything.

“Not my fault you’re so jumpy.” You shook your head at his teasing comment, taking in a deep breath to try and forget what you were just thinking about before he interrupted you. “You were gone for a while...is everything okay? Did something happen and you don’t want to tell me?”

“W-what? No no nothing...nothing happened I promise. I just needed some air. It was getting a little intense back there. Sorry I’m just not used to being around so many, you know-” You trailed off and hoped Pedro wasn’t offended by your words because the last thing you wanted him to think was that he was bringing you to anxiety-inducing gatherings. 

Your smile faltered when you finally glanced at him, finding it near impossible to not shift your attention to the unbuttoned collar and the godforsaken inanimate object hanging around his neck. Pedro was taking in your changing expressions, trying his hardest to figure out what was going through your mind and hoping it mirrored what was going through his.

But he didn’t have to wonder for too long because all of a sudden, you were reaching up and pushing his shirt apart, and he felt his heart skip a beat when your fingers lightly trailed across the chain he was wearing. He didn’t dare to say anything, afraid you’d break out of whatever trance you were in. He hoped to whatever higher power existing out there that he wasn’t misreading the situation because he wasn’t sure how much more he needed to control himself. You continued to stare at him as you traced the outline of the cold metal, slipping your hand beneath it to touch his skin. Pedro shivered when one of your nails scratched at the hollow juncture just below his Adam’s apple and he all but lost it when feather-light touches skimmed over the cartilage moving down his throat. Your fingers descended down his throat again, and he ceased to breathe when you twirled his chain around your index finger before tilting your head to the side in interest. When you licked your lower lip and began to lean forward, Pedro couldn’t hold back anymore. 

“Fuck…” The growled expletive snapped you out of your haze and you snatched your hands away, about to start apologizing to him and begging him to pretend that you weren’t just pretty much assaulting the man in public.

Pedro regretted the way he responded to you when he saw sheer panic and fear etched on your beautiful features. He didn’t think of what he was doing as he pushed you further into the wall and cornered you between his arms. Pedro wanted to make sure you weren’t about to run away from him because now that he had you here, with a pretty good idea of what you were thinking of, he wasn’t about to let you go. 

You watched as his jaw muscles clenched tightly, unable to look away from his dark eyes as he stared down at you.

“I thought I was imagining things...the entire day. You’ve been...you kept on looking at me like...like you were- like I was-” Pedro gulped to try and contain his thoughts, not wanting to scare you by what he’s been thinking of when he caught you looking at him like you wanted to devour him. “Every time I looked at you, you would either look away or pretend you were talking to someone else. But fuck baby I didn’t think- didn’t think you’d ever...fuck. I can’t stop thinking about you sweetheart, and if I’d known that it would take me wearing this fucking chain...goddamn, I would have worn it a long time ago if it meant you’d look at me like you were imagining...that I- that we- Please...I- I...shit, are we on the same page here baby or am I completely misreading this entire situation?” Pedro stuttered through his admission and you weren’t sure if you found it cute or sexy that he was trying to hold back from telling you what he’s been thinking about. 

“Pedro-”

He wasn’t sure who leaned in first, and he couldn’t care less if he was being honest, because you were in his arms, devouring his lips and fisting your hands in his shirt as he snuck his tongue into your mouth and kissed you with every ounce of his being. You sighed into him as you felt his hand slip into your hair at the nape of your neck and pull on it. You were thankful that he had his other arm wrapped around you because you felt faint with every little moan he whispered into your mouth. Nothing could have prepared you for the intensity of his kiss. You would never tell him but watching his on-screen kisses did something to you and you always thought he would be generous with whoever he was with but this, this was something else. It was a cliché but this must have been what it felt like to watch a shooting star fly through the sky. It had to be. It was magical, intimate, and absolutely breathtaking. 

When Pedro pulled away and looked down at you, he couldn’t help but push himself flush against your heaving chest, once again swearing when he felt your shivering hands slip beneath his shirt and pull on the chain. He followed your lead and molded his lips with yours, this time more carefully and with less desperation. You smiled against him, and let out a deep breath when you felt him smile into the kiss. Pulling away from him, you rested your head on his chest and let go of his shirt, trailing your hands across his back to try and somehow pull him closer to you.

“I- I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” His voice was soft, exuding calmness and joy. But you could hear his heartbeat and you knew he was just as nervous as you.

“Me too.” 

Pedro grabbed your shoulders and pushed you away so he could take a look at you.

“This isn’t a- I’m not...I’m all in baby. I’m all in, if- if you want to give us a shot. Please.” Silence enveloped the air around you and you looked into Pedro’s eyes, finding nothing but love and hope and happiness in them. You’d always wanted to make him happy, he deserved the world. And now that you knew you could, it was indescribable. 

“I’m yours Pedro.” 

You smiled when you noticed the familiar dimples take over his expression, sighing in relief when he pulled you against him once more and tightened his hold on you.

“Let’s get out of here.” He grabbed your hand and moved towards the restaurant. 

“What? No wait Pedro this is your day. I’m not- we could figure this out after tonight. I’m not about to ruin your night. It can wait.” Your eyes widened in surprise when he stepped towards you and grabbed your cheeks so you could look at him.

“Baby...I waited to hear you say those words for too damn long. I need to have you all to myself tonight. Please. I’m- I’m begging here. They won’t mind I promise. I just- I want you in my arms. I want to touch you and kiss every inch of you and hold you until you get tired of me. I want to whisper sweet things in your ears and show you how much I lo- how much I care about you. I want you. And I can’t wait anymore. Please hermosa.” Pedro noticed the small gasp emanating from your lips at the last nickname, and he raised an eyebrow when you turned away from him to look at something else.

“Oh, good to know.” He laughed when you narrowed your eyes at him in annoyance.

“Come home with me hermosa. Please.” He knew he had your undivided attention when you looked up at him, barely holding back from smiling because you could never refuse anything when he used that tone with you. 

“Ok.”

Pedro leaned in one last time and kissed your forehead before taking your hand and walking back inside. Well this was going to be interesting. 

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal/reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #d23 expo 2019 #chain #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #not beta'd

[layniapetrovnaaa]

Kinkmas Day 6 (cockwarming): Five Hargreeves

Five is physically aged up to 17/18 in all my works. Also, I am 18, so this is not like some creepy cougar situation.

Summary: Reader and five go to see their past selves with Luther at the pub. Trouble ensues, and you decide to then try and help Five relax.

Warnings: Language, suggestive banter, name calling, fighting, smut, cockwarming, light praise kink, hints of premature ejaculation. 

This is pretty long because it was not originally a kinkmas fic.

***

A cold layer of sweat covers your entire body as you make your way to the pub that your past self was currently occupying. 

You knew the dangers of paradox psychosis-- having been part of the commission for many years. Yet, here you were, about to try and negotiate with your two weeks younger self and significant other. 

It wasn't you that you were worried about, however, it was Five. 

You had been partners for quite a few years before you got together, that being said, you knew Five very well. You knew it would be unlikely that he would react kindly to himself

If the first four stages of paradox psychosis were any indication, he was already fumbling this task. 

“You alright, Five?”

“Fine.” he says sharply, but in an unconvincing tone. 

“Here we go.” Luther mutters as he swings open the door, holding it for you and your counterpart.

Upon entering, you catch a glimpse of you and Five at the bar, you turn and laugh at something he says, flirtatiously placing your hand on his arm. 

What you would give to go back to those days, the ones where you weren't constantly worrying about the apocalypse, when you and Five could have a casual drink at the bar, then find each other in one of the empty bathrooms later to... blow off some steam before returning to your jobs as hitmen. 

“Well, there we are.” you breath out. 

Five’s eyes almost bug out of his head as he peers around to get a good look at the two of you together, Luther as well. 

Despite the fact that you were also just as susceptible to paradox psychosis, you seemed to be the most level headed.

“How come [Y/N] looks the same?” Luther asks, stupidly.

“I told you already, I don’t age due to my regenerative healing factor, I’m like you guys.” your growl.

Maybe you weren't the most level headed, blame it on nerves. 

“Huh”

He glances over at Five, who was anxiously rubbing his hands together and looking as if he just saw a ghost, before asking another stupid question. 

“Why don’t we just grab the briefcase and run?”

You scoff, and Five answers him, almost hurt by his words.

“Luther, I would never let that happen. We’re trained to guard these briefcases with our lives.”

“Right.”

“Plus, it’s the inherit paradox where this gets tricky.We’re endangering our existence just being in the same room with our former selves.”

“Huh-- What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes.

“C’mon Ape-man, try to keep up.” you scoff out, biting your thumb nail anxiously. 

“If the old me doesn't travel back to 2019 like he’s supposed to, the whole thing unravels itself. I cease to exist. Same goes for [Y/N], here.” Five explains to his brother, making exaggerated hand gestures as he does. 

Luther nods, and Five keeps talking.

“So our best chance is to talk--reason-- with them. Usually, I would count on [Y/N] to keep me grounded in situations like this, but given that fact that she might experience psychosis as well, I’m not really sure how this is gunna go.”

“Ah” Luther lets out, a bit apprehensive. 

“He’ll understand.” Five mutters to himself, itching his neck.

“You just itched your neck! That’s stage two of paradox psychosis.” Luther whisper shouts.

“Luther, don’t be ridiculous.” you speak, wiping the sweat from your forehead as you do so.

“No, I didn't. I didn't itch my neck.” Five says defensively. 

“Well, denial is stage one, and you’ve both got it. “

“We are fine, Luther.” You say harshly and leaning in dramatically.

Five huffs and shakes himself out a bit before he starts towards your targets.

“Wait-” Luther says, grabbing his arm.

“What?” Five hisses out, still put off by his brother’s most recent comments.

“Maybe I should go first. I mean, the two of you will freak them out.”he explains before turning to your lover.

“Bumping into your own tiny doppelganger? He will lose his shit.”

You all turn to look at yourselves-- the couple-- at the bar.

“Just let me brake the ice.” he continues.

Five looks over at you for approval and you give him a nod. This seemed to be the first time Luther actually had a decent plan.

As you prepare to meet yourself, the three of you take a few deep breaths in. 

As Luther saunters over to the couple , you put a hand on Five’s back, rubbing soothing across his lean frame. 

“This will all work out fine.” you hum, more to yourself than him.

He looks up at the ceiling, then back down at his hands, continuing to fiddle with any of the imperfections on them.

“Whaddya say, after this we’ll go home, finally have some alone time, release all that pent up stress?”

He looks into you eyes, and for a moment, his anxiety stops.

“That would be wonderful.” he pecks your lips quick before you turn around the corner of beam, hearing Luther introduce you.

“Hey there, stranger.”

***

“Well...this is nice, isn’t it? The five of us, together like this.”

You put your head in your hands as your lookalike glares over at Luther because of his unfitting tone and comment. The Fives are the only ones who respond verbally.

“No.”

The physically older five speaks. 

“Somebody explain to me how I am having a pint of Guinness with my younger self and my girl.” 

“Older, actually. I’m you, just 14 days older.” Five clicks.

“I have pubic hair smarter than you.”

And that was your cue to start and finish off your drink in one go. 

“How is that possible?” the only other female at the table asks. 

“I can explain. You see, one hour from now, on the grassy knoll, before the president is killed, you two will brake your contract with the commission.” he says, his eyes flicking over to the other version of yourself, and you noticed his eyes soften slightly. 

“I already know you’re thinking about it. All those years in the apocalypse, we never stopped worrying about our family. Well, today, you are going to do something about it. Today, you are going to attempt to time travel forward to 2019. However you are going to screw up the jump and end up in this twip of a body, trapped forever, small, pubescent.” Five says, starting off soft at first, then becoming more vicious. 

“Okay.” the other Five says nervously.

“How come I look the same then?” You-- well, not you-- speak. 

“Because we don’t age, moron.”

Younger you sits back and scoffs, never breaking her glare. 

“See! It’s a reasonable question!” Luther shouts rather obnoxiously.

“Ah yes, the burden of being young and sexy forever.” the white haired Five speaks, it’s meant to be humorous, but everyone is to stressed to acknowledge it properly. 

Luther chokes slightly on his beer, whereas the Five that you are sat next to reaches for his and gulps it down rather quickly. You just roll your eyes.

“Look, we’re getting off topic.”

Regaining his wits, the man that sits across from you speaks.

“Even if I was to believe you, what am I supposed to do about it, not jump?” he says aggressively, with a hint of fear.

“No, no. I--We need you both to jump.”

“If you two don’t jump, we cease to exist.” you elaborate on his behalf. 

“What I need from you is to jump correctly.” 

“I’m listening.”

“The first time through, we got the calculations wrong. That’s how I ended up in this body. But now, I know the correct calculation.”

“What is it?” the other Five whispers sharply.

“I’ll be glad to tell you... in exchange for that briefcase you’re holding under the table.” the physically younger Five states, a bit too cockily.

“What do you think?”

It’s silent for a moment, and in that moment you hold your breath.

“I think...I need to piss.”

You let out a sigh and hold your head in your hands as he gets up and heads towards the back of the pub, Luther following shortly after. 

“You’ll have to excuse me as well.” [Y/N] says and gets up. You recognize the slight mischievous gleam in her-- your-- eyes when she gets up and heads towards the bathrooms. Your suspicions are confirmed when you see her slip into the men’s bathroom instead of the women's. 

You quickly turn to Five, who is bouncing his leg up and down anxiously and not looking away from the bathroom doors.

“They’re planning something, and they’re trying to get Luther in on it.”

He shakes his head before speaking.

“I know. I bet they’re gunna kill us.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” you say, a bit shocked at his accusation.

“Homicidal rage is stage seven, [Y/N], and all four of us are already exhibiting symptoms of stage six. Besides, that’s what I would do if I were him, and I am him.” he says very matter-of-factly, which makes you gulp, given the fact this he isn’t wrong.

A minute later, the three of them appear. 

“We good?” Five asks cautiously.

“You got a deal.” The other Five speaks. 

“We gotta hurry, Kennedy’s en route. Less than an hour till showtime.” the other version of yourself says, pulling her bag onto her shoulder. 

“Why are you so anxious to get going all of a sudden?”

“Relax. Your getting paranoid.” The mustache donning Five lets out a scoffing chuckle, itching his chin on his shoulder immediate after.

“Oh, am I?”

They glare at each other for another moment before exiting the pub. 

***

“What are you looking at?” Five asks the random stranger aggressively.

You try to push him along, but he continues.

“You see somethin’ funny?” he shouts even louder.

You notice that the other three members of your party are talking among themselves in front of you. Trying to focus hard on what they are saying, you miss Fives next insult, which was along the lines of “Something, something, asshole!”. 

“Mind your business!-”

“Five!” you scold. “-Or I’ll give you something to stare at!”

 “Stop it!”

“You wish you could pull off these shorts!”

You just roll your eyes and try to move him along. 

Luther falls back and you immediately know something is up.

“Hey, lovebirds. How you guys doing?”

Five takes a look at Luther, then a deep breath in before descending the stairs and speaking.

“They’re gunna kill us, aren’t they?”

“What?” Luther lets out a nervous chuckle.

“What, him, her? He’s gunna kill you? Yeah, right. That’s ridiculous.” he chuckles again.

“Luther?”

“Yeah, hm?” he perks up too quickly when you speak. 

“Promise me you will never go into acting. Because you’ve got to be one of the worst liars I’ve ever met.” and Five hums in agreement.

“You’re a worse liar than you are a spotter.”

At that, Luther drops his act.

“Okay, who’s fault is that? What good is having a spotter if you won’t even listen to him?” 

“So you admit you’re all conspiring against us?” Five says, whisper yelling. You scoff.

“Do--Do you admit that you’re suffering from paradox psychosis?”

“Nuh-uh, don’t try and turn the tables, Luther.” you seethe. 

“She’s got it too!” he points at you.

Five ignoring the both of you and instead defends himself. 

“All I’m suffering from is bracing clarity about you and your murderous intentions.” his voice is like venom as he itches his chest.

“Look, it’s not like they’re gonna “kill you” kill you. They just want to kill a, um... version of you two.

“But I am that version of me!” 

“Hey, I don’t love it, either, but he’s actually got a pretty good plan.

“You’re really not helping your case, Luther.” you say, your voice agitated.

“What? The one where you guys off us, then jump to 2019 to save the world?” Five asks, aggressively pushing his hair back. 

“Yeah, wait, how’d you know that.”

“Because, Luther, we are the same people, we think the same way, and that’s exactly what we would do!” you spit, muttering “imbecile” under your breath. 

“Okay, all I know is that we’ve got one of you too many,-- and you’re the mean one and this Five is a maniac.”

You clench your fists and try not to hurl yourself at the monkey-boy. 

“Maniac? Luther, you have seen nothing. If you want a maniac, I will show you maniac.” Five growls. Maybe Luther was right.

“Okay, as your spotter,-” you and Five both scoff.

“I think the best thing I can do for you right now is put you out of your misery.” Luther says in a matter-of-fact tone, and that’s when Five’s had enough.

“Okay, Luther, listen,” Five starts, turning and grabbing Luther. You make sure to watch the show from a safe two feet away. 

“I know your feeble mind only responds to age and authority, so listen very closely.” Five starts, and you got a feeling from the way that he was gripping Luther’s arms-- this would most likely end in an outburst.

“Yet again, you are experiencing daddy issues. This time with your own brother, which is honestly making me a bit crazy.”

“But remember this:” he says, and its the calm before the storm.

“I’m 14 days older than him. I have seniority here. So it is me you should be listening to, Luther.”

...and here it comes...

“I’M THE DADDY HERE!”

Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner.

“Five, you need to calm down.” you finally intervene. 

“What, I thought you liked it when I play daddy.” he says with a veil of smugness, coating his paranoid ticks. 

Before you can huff out a retort, the Five that was walking in front of you alerts everyone that you all had reached your destination. 

And, to say the least, things didn’t exactly go according to plan. At least you survived!

***

When you arrived home you knew your tasks were not yet finished.

Ah, yes, the trials and tribulations of trying to help Five relax after stopping an apocalypse...twice.  

Five heads straight to the kitchen, ignoring his siblings, to get a cup of coffee.

You and Luther filter in behind him slowly, exhausted from the day you’d had. 

Five hands you your own cup of joe and you place a hand on his arm, giving it a small squeeze, and offering him a sweet little smile-- as if to say “thank you”. He returns the look before taking a sip from his mug. 

“Where the hell have you three been?” Allison asks, her voice sharp, but at the same time, caring and concerned. 

“Doesn’t matter.” Five says bluntly before walking away, pulling you with him into Elliott’s old bedroom. 

Allison just scoffs and shakes her head, walking away, Luther following quickly after her. 

You set your mug down on the desk as Five closes the door. 

He goes and sits at the desk immediately, muttering about how you all still had to find a way to get back to 2019. 

“Five.” you say, your tone that of a parent who is correcting their child.

He looks up at you cautiously before determining that he wasn't in too much danger, continuing his scribbles. 

“[Y/N] you know just as well as I do, we can’t stay here.”

“I’m not asking to stay, I’m asking you to take a break for 30 minutes and-” you walk over to him, standing behind his chair, starting to trail kisses up his neck, your teeth grazing the shell of his ear. “spend some time with me. Hmm?”

“I--” he stutters, trying to weigh his options as your hands start to massage his shoulders lightly.

“I need to finish this equation I just started.”

You huff and make your way around the chair to sit on his lap. His hands immediate rest on your hips. And, although he has and exasperated look on his face, you can tell he is enjoying this.  

“But, I want you.” you whisper, your breath ghosting over his lips.

You grind yourself down on him unexpectedly, which makes him release a loud, and slightly high pitched moan.

You grin like the cheshire cat.

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Mmm, but how can I not be when I make the great Five Hargreeves moan like a horny schoolboy.” you mock, your eyes trailing down his sweater vest covered torso. 

“Oh, shut up.” he says just before kissing you feverishly. 

Soon, he is lifting your shirt, throwing it across the room, and groping your breasts. 

You let out a content sigh at his actions, continuing to swish your hips back and forth. 

“You’re so beautiful” he mutters and he leans in to kiss your neck.

You let out delicate moans as he sucks a hickey over your right jugular.

“I love those pretty noises you make, sweetheart.” He says, and you hum.

“Five,” you plead. “I need you.”

“Fuck” he curses at your words.

You get up to quickly take your bottoms off. he lifts his hips, sliding his shorts down to about mid-thigh.

You get back on his lap and start stroking him a bit before eventually lining him up at your entrance, and sinking down, letting out a heavy breath. 

“Oh, that’s a good girl.” Five sighs. 

“You always feel so damn good.” he hums, and you let out a soft moan at his words.

“Just-just let me finish this one problem and I’ll fuck you properly, okay?”

“Okay.” you sigh, sultry.

“Good girl.” he says, looking at you admirably, running a knuckle down your cheek softly, giving it a quick peck. 

Any small thing, any move of his hips, made you let out small gasps and breaths. 

It seems like forever before he is finished, but when you hear the sound of his pencil on the desk, you know he is finally finished. Ready to ravage you.

You start to move up and down slowly, trying to enjoy your first real moment of peace with your other half in a a long time.

Unable to take the slowness any longer, he orders you to get into the bed.

You comply and lay down.

He stands at the foot of the bed and grabs your ankle, dragging you closer to him before he lines himself up at your entrance again. 

His hands rest on the undersides of your knees, pushing them forward so that they are near your shoulders

“You look so beautiful like this” he murmurs, taking in your appearance.

Despite occupying a body that he hadn't possessed in a long time, he still knew exactly what to do to make you a blubbering mess. However, that being said, this version of himself seemed to be...sensitive to more sexual things. Reaching his climax quicker than he intended, he lets out a string of curses.

He seems slightly embarrassed, but makes no note of it when he tucks himself back into his shorts and gets on his knees. 

You let out a moan when he finally puts his mouth on you, a cocky grin forming on his lips.

“Who’s the cocky one now?” you ask rhetorically, breathless, and he dives back in. Your hands thread through his soft and thick hair, tugging on it ever so slightly when you feel a particularly pleasureful jolt. 

And its not long before you reach your glorious climax as well. 

“HEY, GUYS? WHEN YOU TWO ARE DONE BONING YOU MIGHT WANT TO COME DOWN HERE AND SEE THE NEWS.” Diego shouts, and you blush, knowing that everyone now knew what you and Five were up to-- that is, if they didn’t already.

“We should probably go down there.” Five says, helping you to get up and giving you back your shirt.

You agree and go downstairs, only to find that you and the Hargreeves siblings were currently America’s most wanted.

#five Hargreeves x reader #Five Hargreeves #five Hargreeves smut #five is always aged up in all my fics #the umbrella academy #kinkmas

[lostinthewiind]

Forget Me Not: Part 1

Ushijima Wakatoshi, Sawamura Daichi, Bokuto Kōtarō, Oikawa Tōru, Kuroo Tetsurō - Haikyuu

Synopsis: five years after graduating high school, you're invited to Kiyoko and Tanaka's wedding and find yourself back in Japan. Surrounded by your old classmates and volleyball buddies once again, not only are old friendships rekindled, but old feelings start to resurface as well. Did five years change you and your friends too much, or did it change you all just enough?

Rating: PG13

Warnings: none

Next → Part 2

Being back in Japan filled you with a familiar, comforting feeling that spread throughout your entire body. The country where you had lived most of your life and been educated from kindergarten to high school in brought back childhood memories that you had not thought about in nearly five years.

And now, here you were, attending the wedding of one of your best friends, whom you hadn't seen in way too long, and surrounded by people who shaped your elementary and teenage years.

It wasn't until the reception that you got to actually catch up with your childhood friends, but the ceremony had certainly gotten you thinking. With the beautiful decorations strewn all over the venue and Kiyoko's breathtaking dress—and the way Tanaka teared up after seeing his future wife coming down the aisle—you had begun to wonder, as one who is still single would, if that would ever be you; all dressed to the nines and ready to devote the rest of your life to one person.

The fact that you were deep in thought must have been visible on your face because it wasn't long after that Kiyoko made her way over, gently placing her hand on your shoulder and asking if you were all right.

Startled out of your internal dilemma, you assured her that you were fine and just caught up with your own thoughts. "Sorry," you apologized with a lighthearted chuckle. "I didn't mean to make you worry about me at your wedding."

Taking a seat beside you at the rather empty guest table—more than happy to get off of her feet after Tanaka had been swinging her around the dance floor for hours—Kiyoko sighed contently and brushed off your concern. "Oh, please, make up something if you must." Kiyoko glanced over her shoulder at her new husband, who was currently preoccupied with something Noya was saying to him. "I need a break. If this is any indication of what the rest of my life is going to be like, I'm going to be eternally exhausted."

You laughed, having completely forgotten about what you had been thinking about. "You chose to marry the boy who spent all three years of high school chasing after you and you're surprised that he's over the moon 24/7?" You cocked a brow at her jokingly. "Don't say you weren't warned."

Kiyoko giggled at that and before long you and your best friend were laughing together just like when you were teenagers. It was like nothing had changed; like the two of you had been transported back in time five years.

"In all seriousness though, are you happy?" you asked her as you grabbed for your champagne flute and took a sip. "Because that's all that matters."

A light dusting of pink rose to Kiyoko's cheeks. "I'm ecstatic." She beamed as she looked back at Tanaka again. "I mean . . . that's my husband!"

"Good. I'm happy that you're happy."

Kiyoko nodded in agreement before turning back to you. "So, when is it going to be your turn?"

You thought about asking her what she could possibly be talking about but there was no fooling Kiyoko; she already knew that you knew. Not a week had gone by since you had moved away where she hadn't asked you if you had found yourself a man yet.

You just rolled your eyes. "I would have to be dating someone first in order to start thinking about getting married."

"Okay, so we start at the beginning." Kiyoko started surveying the gorgeous outdoor reception venue as if you didn't already know pretty much everyone who was there.

You scoffed. "I'm sorry, we?"

"You act like I haven't always been invested in your love life." She waved you off, never taking her eyes off of the bustling crowd. "Anyway, back to what I was saying . . . you need someone with a stable career, handsome, and, most importantly, someone that I approve of."

"Yes . . . most importantly." You took another sip of your drink and let your eyes scan the crowd as well, mostly because there wasn't much else for you to do. Eventually, your gaze settled on a table in the back corner where five men sat, engaged in a conversation with one another. It took you a few minutes to make out the face in the dim lighting, but when you did, you were immediately hit with a wave of nostalgia.

There, in a convenient group, as if they had all collectively been waiting for you to spot them, were five of your dearest friends from high school: the captains from the various boys' volleyball teams. Since you had been the captain for the girls' team at one of the rival schools, the six of you had started as acquaintances who bonded over being captains and soon grew into an inseparable friend group. The only person you had been closer to in high school was Kiyoko.

Sawamura Daichi, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Bokuto Kōtarō, Oikawa Tōru, and Kuroo Tetsurō.

They all looked just like how you remembered and yet you couldn't help but notice from afar the ways that they had matured over the past five years. You had been given a brief chance during the ceremony to say hello to them, and during that brief moment, you weren't ashamed to say you would admit they had all grown into handsome young men (not that any of them had been hard on the eyes in high school by any means.)

"Oh, so we're going for the classic 'high school reunion' trope." Kiyoko's face was suddenly right next to yours, startling you once again. "Which one are you looking at?"

Ripping your eyes away from the group of men who had thankfully not noticed your staring, you shook your head. "It's not like that," you sighed.

"Oh, yeah . . . okay." Kiyoko's tone was dripping with sarcasm. "That's fine, you don't have to choose right now. You could probably have whichever one of them you wanted anyway considering they all had a crush on you in high school."

It had been a big mistake to try and take your final gulp of champagne right then. As soon as you had heard what Kiyoko had said, you jolted in surprise and the alcohol went down the wrong way, causing you to begin coughing and sputtering rather loudly and aggressively.

Of course, that was when the five former captains turned to look at you after hearing the commotion. To be fair, a lot of eyes were on you then as you frantically reached for a napkin to dry the champagne that had spurted out of your mouth and Kiyoko patted your back comfortingly.

"Jesus," you managed to choke out. "Warn someone before you say something like that."

Kiyoko grabbed another napkin and began dabbing at the little wet spot on your dress. "You act like you didn't already know."

"I didn't already know."

Kiyoko looked up at you in shock, her hand ceasing all movement. Thankfully, she had pretty much dried your dress completely by then anyway. "What do you mean you didn't know?" she inquired quizzically, almost like she suspected you of lying.

"What do you mean they all had a crush on me?!" You remembered to lower your voice at the last second to avoid screaming such a personal conversation.

"How could you not have known?!" Kiyoko retorted with another question. "It was so obvious!"

"We were all just friends!"

"Just friends?!" A deep voice from behind you interrupted before you or Kiyoko could say another word. "You aren't talking about us, are you?"

You could pick that voice out of a lineup and consequently, your face turned bright red and you swallowed hard. Had he heard what you and Kiyoko had been talking about? How long had he been standing there?

Turning in your chair, you looked up at Kuroo, who was standing behind your chair, and the four other guys standing behind him; all of whom had apparently made their way over after witnessing your struggle with the champagne.

Before you had the chance to work out a suitable answer and attempt to explain away what you and Kiyoko had been discussing, Kiyoko stood from her chair and offered it to Kuroo, motioning for the group to sit down with you at the same time.

"Well, I'll leave you guys so you can all catch up." She smiled wide, throwing you a quick wink when no one else was looking. "I'm sure Tanaka will start searching for me soon anyway. I can only leave his side for so long before he starts causing chaos."

"Looks like the chaos has already started." Oikawa pointed to the head table where Tanaka was pouring liquor straight down Hinata's throat while Noya and Tendou counted the seconds out loud at the top of their lungs.

"Oh, good God." Kiyoko excused herself without another word, rushing across the room to put an end to her husband's antics. The six of you were left chuckling and watching as she snatched the bottle out of his hand and made quick work of reprimanding the men.

Shaking his head, Daichi sat down across from you while the other men took their seats as well. Having been the team captain of Karasuno and on a volleyball team with Tanaka for two years, he knew all too well what it was like to have to keep him in check constantly. "I will never understand how he suckered her into marrying him," he commented.

"Because love." You shrugged. "It makes you do stupid things."

Just then, a waiter came by and placed a fresh glass of champagne in front of each of you. "Ain't that the truth." Kuroo rose his glass and encouraged everyone else to do the same. "To love and other stupid things."

"To love and other stupid things," the remaining five of you repeated before clinking your glasses together and taking a sip of the bubbly alcohol.

Bokuto, who already seemed a little too tipsy for his own good, downed all of his in one go before scooting his chair closer to yours and throwing an arm over your shoulders. "So, tell us, what have you been up to?!" he chirped happily. "We all missed you when you left, you know."

After assuring Bokuto about four or five times that you had missed him as well, you gave the group of eager listeners the short version of what you had been up to since graduation. You explained your boring job and the fact that you played volleyball as often as you could. They asked about other aspects of your life as well, and when the topic of significant others came up, you shyly admitted that you were, indeed, still single.

"Hey, it's not like any of us can judge you for that," Ushijima told you. "None of us have anyone in our lives either."

Oikawa scoffed. "You make it sound like I'm hopeless."

"You are hopeless," Kuroo laughed. "You spent how many years in Brazil and still couldn't find a girl to date you? You moved to Argentina and still nothing. Doesn't that say anything?"

"Leave it to Oikawa to make it all about him," you commented, mindlessly taunting the setter like you used to do all the time when you were younger.

Your jab earned a few amused chuckles from the others and even Oikawa cracked a smile; and just like that, it was like you were back in high school with five of your closest friends, shooting the shit like you always did.

Before you knew it, the six of you were talking, laughing, and drinking the night away. Even Ushijima, who was usually the quiet one of the group, was participating more than you ever remember him doing so. The awkwardness from the first few minutes of interaction and the burning embarrassment of what Kiyoko had told you had melted away so seamlessly that you didn't even notice; suddenly you just found yourself comfortable and feeling rather at home.

Daichi told you about how his job as a cop was going and even shared a few exciting stories—stories that the others had clearly heard many times before if their bored expressions were any indication.

Kuroo talked about his job at the Japan Volleyball Association Sports Promotion Division, which he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying. You were kind of envious of him for managing to stay in the world of volleyball without actually having to keep playing.

Then, of course, Bokuto, Ushijima, and Oikawa discussed what it was like playing for the MSBY Jackals, the Schweiden Alders, and Club Atlético San Juan in Argentina, respectively. Oikawa, much like Daichi had been, was very excited to have someone new to tell his stories to—although his stories were about Argentina and not being a cop.

It made you feel a little sad when you realized just how distant you had grown from your friends and how much of their lives you had missed, but you had to admit that getting to play catch up was extremely entertaining.

After what felt like only twenty minutes or so, but was probably closer to two hours, the reception started winding down and guests started heading home for the night.

Pulled from the happy little bubble the six of you were existing in by the sudden realization that the party had a lot fewer people than you remember, you checked the time and noted that it was rather late.

Daichi, who had been oblivious to the rapidly passing time as well, muttered something about having to work the next day as he reached for his suit jacket that he had draped over the back of his chair at some point and started putting it back on, indicating that he was getting ready to leave.

Bokuto began to pout jokingly and tightened his hold on you, his arm never having left your shoulders the entire time. "You're not going home right away, are you?" he asked you, his wide eyes ready to guilt-trip you into staying longer should he need to. "You're staying in Japan for a while, right?"

"I'll be here for about two weeks or so," you told him, patting his cheek lightly and chuckling when his expression changed on a dime and he smiled wide. "Don't worry, I'm not abandoning you again so soon."

"Then we will have to get together for dinner or drinks or something," Kuroo suggested as he too stood from his seat. "Have you changed your number since high school?"

You shook her head. "Nope, it should be the same one you all have."

"Excellent!" Oikawa cheered. "I've got to head back to Argentina in a week or so as well so we definitely have to get together soon. I have first dibs!"

"Y/N is a person, not the last piece of food," Ushijima huffed. "You can't call dibs."

Oikawa just scoffed. "Sure I can, Toshi. I just did."

"I told you not to call me that."

The two professional volleyball players glared at one another and you wondered how it was possible that they stayed friends for so long, let alone became friends in the first place, considering they were always at each other's throats.

"Okay, you two, don't make me escort one or both of you home in a cop car tonight," Daichi warned. "I'm not in the mood to babysit."

"If I promise to behave, will you promise to use your handcuffs?" Oikawa winked, earning a few hushed chuckles and an obviously disappointed look from Daichi.

"Well, that's my cue to call it a night," Daichi announced as he made his way over to you and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. "It was lovely seeing you again. I'll call you and we can do dinner sometime, yeah?"

You smiled and nodded. "I'd love to."

With that, Daichi took his leave and the others were soon to follow. Bokuto, who was the last to leave your side, had somehow swindled you into promising to play a volleyball game with him at some point before he bid you goodnight as well and left you to collect your thoughts before catching a cab and heading back to your hotel room.

On your way out, you thanked Kiyoko for inviting you and congratulated her and Tanaka on their marriage. They too insisted on getting together with you once more before you left and you happily agreed, already dreading having to leave your friends again.

As you climbed into your cab that evening, drunker than you had been in a long while and filled to the brim with joyous memories and content feelings after being reunited with so many old friends, you couldn't help but linger on one thought in particular . . .

The fact that all of your former captain friends had grown into handsome men with stable jobs, they were all single, and the startling new discovery that they apparently all had crushes on you in high school.

Did they still feel the same way? Or, more importantly, did you feel the same way?

#haikyuu #lostinthewiind #forget me not #part 1 #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima #sawamura daichi #daichi #bokuto kotaro #bokuto #toru oikawa #oikawa #kuroo testuro #kuroo #sexy time #haikyuu smut #x reader #reader insert #reader imagine #fanfiction #series

[shoichee]

Can you do a scenario with Murasakibara, Hanamiya, Imayoshi and Kagami where their S/O really wants a lot of attention like cuddles etc? Do you mind making it fluffy as hell? I just finished finals and I’m so drained mentally. Good luck with your finals I hope you do well luv! 💗

My rules are 3 characters max for requests (GoM requests are the exceptions), but it’s been a looong time, so I’ll do them all as a treat! I RLLY HOPE YOURE DOING OKAY, FINALS SUCK SO MUCH :(( I think i did my finals alright heh // these are more formatted as fluffy (within their character LOL) reactions more than anything, enjoy! IM SORRY I TOOK SO LONG PLS FORGIVE ME ANON 

Murasakibara Atsushi

“Hnn?” He looked away from his plate on the table in the living room to see you fidgeting with the hem of your shirt after asking to cuddle. Your shirt had been slightly stained from all the messy cooking you both did together earlier for lunch in his home. “Okay.”

Murasakibara immediately goes back to eating his shrimp tempuras, delicately picking each one to pop into his mouth despite his large hands. He didn’t need to look at you to see how flustered you were in hearing such a casual response from him. Normally, he would be hesitant to agree, he knew that, but sensing how you were too antsy in wanting physical touches from him, he didn’t mind to indulge you. Besides, who’s to say that this isn’t also a treat for him, as well? Not like he would admit that so readily though.

“What are you standing for, (y/n)-chin?” he slightly frowns with an averted gaze before opting to stare at his food on the table instead. “Hurry up already…” At his words, you skipped to sit on the floor next to him with a happy flush, sitting close to him and watching him finish his meal before you can pounce on him. Murasakibara eyes you swaying side to side with anticipation, and he immediately sighs with closed eyes before he gently puts down his chopsticks. Your questioning gaze immediately morphs into one of surprise when he swiftly picks you up and places you on his lap, with your back against his chest and his chin on top of your head.

“Hm? Why do you look surprised? Didn’t you wanna cuddle?” he drawls, moving his chin off your head and tilting your head back by nudging your chin upward to gently kiss your forehead. The languid giant then picks up his utensils again to pick up the last shrimp on the plate to place it against your lips. “Hurry already, food doesn’t taste good when it gets cold, (y/n)-chin…”

As you were chewing, he put the chopsticks on the cleared plate and pushed it away towards the center of the table, all while nuzzling his own face closer to your hair and temple.

You also didn’t miss the way his spare arm was slowly sneaking around your stomach to pull you tauter against his own warm body.

“Hm…” he hums with a deep rumble from his chest. “You feel nice… Oy, stop moving around, (y/n)-chin… what are you doing?” He curiously stares at your fingers carding through his moppy hair, wondering why you’re so drawn to it. When you tell him that you simply want to appreciate every part of him, he merely smiles like a satisfied child before he takes that same hand running through his hair to place a chaste kiss in the palm.

“Hm?” He slyly smirks at your flustered expression. “I want to appreciate every part of (y/n)-chin too, obviously.”

Hanamiya Makoto

Most would be very afraid to be in the near vicinity of Hanamiya Makoto. You’re one of the very few who would approach him so unabashedly, let alone be direct about what you want from him. Even still, Hanamiya raises a thick brow at you before loudly scoffing at the question of you two possibly cuddling together because you “missed his touch.” He ignores you completely and turns his attention back to analyze his teammates practicing on the court, reclining his back further on the bleachers with a stretch. Yet, he’s inwardly ticked yet somewhat touched that you knew that he had no objections to you cozying up to him, without him needing to say anything. Ah, but the ever so “Bad Boy” wouldn’t easily let you approach him like so, and he knew from the way you were standing there expectantly, you knew too. After all, Hanamiya would never pass up an opportunity to potentially savor the sweet taste of misfortune of others, no matter how menial.

“Come over here, darling~” he coos with an open grin as he continues to relax with his arms behind his head, saccharine tone oozing with his dark, rich voice. “I can’t stand a moment without you by my side.” Of course, he once again feels conflicting emotions of subtle pride and irritation in being unsuccessful in embarrassing, flustering, or even provoking you in the slightest. When you settled yourself by his side with a casual scoff of your own, he immediately shot out his arm around your shoulders and cradled your head closer to lay on his shoulder. But he leans in close to your ear to hiss with his usual infuriating sneer, “Like I’d ever say that, dumbass.” You only respond with a customary retort before snuggling closer against him, pulling his arm around your side for more optimal cuddles.

Even despite the harsh rebuke, his touch is gentle, reverring, protective one would dare say, even if his eyes are currently more occupied watching the court than you.

“... Hey,” he curtly calls out after some minutes later, flicking your ear with the hand around your shoulders to ensure you are listening to him. He gets a small sense of satisfaction seeing your dismayed expression. “You’re being awfully damn clingy lately. Are you actually that fucking touch-starved?” Yet again, his actions betray his words, the same fingers that harshly flicked your ear were now softly toying with your hair near your temple in a clumsy, nonverbal attempt to soothe you.

He hates how you somehow knew yet again how he meant that he was only curious about your recent actions, the way you cheekily replied back how he’s actually reciprocating the cuddles with a raspberry tongue to try to provoke a reaction from his end. And he hates it even more when he willingly lets you reciprocate the soft touches when you tuck his shoulder-length hair behind his ear.

But all he could do to save face was to click his tongue arrogantly. Even still, you somehow see straight through him.

Imayoshi Shoichi

“My, my, those are quite some puppy eyes you’re shooting at me, hm?” Imayoshi relaxes his posture and lays back against the couch to give his signature closed-eye smile. “To think you were this needy.” He simply cocks his head innocently, but you knew something ulterior simmered behind that grin. Even without opening his eyes, his “stare” was still overwhelming in intensity that you couldn’t help but squirm and debate to take back your request.

“Ho? What’s with that look, my dear (y/n)? Don’t mind me darling, keep doing what you were doing before… Hm? I’m being mean?... I’m only graciously doing what you asked me to do. You wanted my attention, correct? You have my full attention now…” His smirk only grows wider when you huff at his comments. “You meant that you wanted to cuddle when you asked for my attention…? Now, now, (y/n), you know that greed is the greatest vice… Still, how cute of you to try to monopolize all of me so.”

Before you can either utter a single comeback or simply leave the room, he abruptly wraps his arms around you and immediately encloses you between his legs. You look up to try to scold him for being so difficult, but all words are caught in your throat when his eyes are slightly open in relishing your figure in his embrace. He merely smiles at your stunned silence, although he knew that you could tell that it was a genuine, affectionate one.

As you begin to relax, Imayoshi rubs gentle circles on your arms, occasionally giving a goading comment or two that elicited eyerolls from your end. Eventually, when you fall into a light snooze from his therapeutic touches, he stares at you fondly for quite some time before an idea crept into his mind.

“My dear (y/n)...” he purrs into your ear. “Am I really reduced to a body pillow for your convenience, my love? I’m hurt.” When you slightly jolt awake from the unexpected closeness of his voice, he merely chuckles at your reaction before hugging you tighter and settling his head atop your shoulder. “Well, I must admit, you’re quite lucky that I’m just as greedy for your attention, darling. In fact, if you’re not careful, I might just end up becoming greedier if you end up forgetting about me… eh? You wouldn’t…? Really now… you’re insisting that I can also ask you for attention, any time?...

… how cute, (y/n), but I must warn you to be careful about what you say, yes? Hm? You really do mean it?... ‘only for you,’ you say? Hah… you really are adorable… quite beyond my expectations.”

Imagine his actual, shell-shocked surprise when you suddenly turn around to face him to nuzzle into his neck with a sneaky kiss attack. He stiffens up, his eyes fully blown open to process the sudden sensation his body just experienced, and he could do nothing but chuckle with a slight chagrined blush.

“... You really never cease to amaze me, hm?”

Kagami Taiga

When you mentioned how cold today was, he already knew since that morning; his body has always had an aversion to the cold, and unfortunately for him, he just happened to be more sensitive to lower temperatures than the average person too.

“Well, yeah… I guess it’s been cold,” Kagami mumbles, scooting himself closer to the kotatsu in an attempt to absorb more of the brazier’s heat. And he’s been sitting there almost motionless for nearly an hour, closing his eyes and breathing softly to conserve his body heat.

When he finally opens his eyes again, Kagami turns to you to invite you to a seat next to him, but he nervously gulps when he sees you standing there with a mischievous look on your face. Who knows how long you’ve been observing him?

When you open your mouth to suggest cuddling to stave off the cold, he erupts a cherry red, knowing full well you were taking advantage of his tendency to get cold extremely easily. But you didn’t stop there. You teased him that he ignored you the entire time, and so, cuddles were only appropriate to make it up to you.

Kagami suddenly felt warm from the rush of blood rising to his face and neck.

“C-C-Cuddle?!... well, yeah… w-we’ve done this before… No! I’m not thinking anything more out of it…! It’s just… I—well, no! It’s not that I don’t wanna cuddle! It’s just…” He sputters, but stops when he realizes that he just admitted to not objecting to having a cuddle session, and he merely sweatdrops when he sees a victorious grin growing wider on your cheeks. “Fine… you must be cold too, right?—Wha, where did that blanket even come from?!”

You immediately plopped the weighted fleece blanket over his shoulders like a cape and tackled him with a hug, making sure to tug the blanket over your own body too. Kagami can only react by catching you while trying to break both of your falls, and he topples from his criss-cross sitting position to end up laying next to you, face-to-face.

“S-Stop squirming… how else are we supposed to cuddle if you keep moving under this heavy-ass blanket…? Pfft, well, it’s pretty warm now, huh? Come closer, yeah?” He nudges your head up against his chest, and his breath fans over your head as you sling your own arm over his waist.

“I dunno about you, but I wanna stay like this for a while… if that’s okay with you.”

#knb #kuroko no basket #knb x reader #knb scenarios #knb fic #knb fics #knb fluff #knb reactions #murasakibara atsushi #murasakibara #murasakibara x reader #murasakibara atsushi x reader #hanamiya makoto #hanamiya x reader #hanamiya makoto x reader #imayoshi shoichi #imayoshi shouichi #imayoshi x reader #imayoshi shoichi x reader #kagami taiga #kagami x reader #kagami taiga x reader

[certified-dumbass02]

Gold Rush (pt.1)

A college AU.

Yelena is a playgirl….but really she’s just a huge flirt who’s been too chicken to really do anything for the last year because she’s secretly just as in love with you as you are with her.

Inspired by the always excellent @peachbear88 and Taylor Swift’s gold rush. Split into two parts because I thought it was getting too long.

~*~

Yelena Belova will be the death of you.

To be fair, she’s the death of pretty much everyone she crosses paths with on campus. Her prowess has, unsurprisingly, earned her several flattering - to her, since she laughs and preens at them - nicknames: Russian Assassin, Femme Fatale…Black Widow.

With her devastatingly gorgeous good looks, frustratingly charming personality, and annoyingly enduring popularity as one of the star athletes at the university, Yelena is never short of admirers.

What’s worse is she’s fully aware of her affect on others; men, women, everything in between - they all flock to her in a crowded room, clamoring to hear the Russian lilt she inherited from her immigrant parents glide silkily over a sarcastic quip or flirtatious comment.

Being around her is like being underwater, or being sucked into a black hole; reality just doesn’t seem quite the way that it normally does. People seem to lose their sense around her, trip over themselves just to try and impress her for the night, or grab her attention.

It is for this reason that you steadily avoid Yelena.

The idea of being enamored with someone to the point of foolishness has always left a bad taste in your mouth, and eliciting that behavior just happens to be one of Yelena’s specialties.

You want no part of it.

As appealing as she is, and you can’t deny that she is, you’ve never seen yourself entering what would surely be an ill-fated endeavor with someone that everyone wants. The stubborn part of you that has always gone against the grain, that prides itself on individuality and refuses to jump on any bandwagon, will not permit you to step into the Widow’s web as most others do.

Unfortunately, despite your vow to steer clear of her, you always find yourself in her orbit. It’s not your fault, really, and it’s not a problem - at least not at first. It begins with a forced partnership, a group project for a class you share, and when she isn’t being an obnoxious, terrible flirt determined to get a rise out of you, you get along really well.

She’s intelligent, observant, and she makes you laugh - internally, of course. You won’t give her the satisfaction of knowing that you actually enjoy her presence rather than just tolerate it; your other group members stroke her ego enough. When the project is over, you’re overcome with the startling realization that you might miss bantering with her. You let out a sigh of relief to be done with it, because you already know that further exposure to Yelena Belova will be the death of you.

Naturally, you are further exposed to Yelena Belova.

You two have always run in similar social circles, connected loosely by mutual friends and choice of hangout spot, but previously you’d managed to duck her prowling green gaze, at least as long as it would take her to find her toy for the evening. After you’d been placed on her radar, however, it becomes impossible to hide.

Any room you’re in, no matter how crowded, she finds you.

Time and time again, she seeks you out, her mob of admirers following. You find it amusing how ironic the situation is: they clamor for her attention, and are ignored while she clamors for your attention and you ignore her or coolly brush her off.

You know you have no business humoring her because the second you give in, you’ll just be the latest in a long line of people that she’s loved and left. You refuse to be taken for a ride.

(If you privately admit to yourself as you watch the sway of her hips and the flex of strong arms over the swell of her chest that it would be one hell of a ride, that’s nobody’s business but yours.)

The problems arise when she ceases flirting mercilessly and instead shifts into something resembling an actual human being, wiggling her way into conversations and debates with you that last throughout the night. She still flirts, of course, but you’re accustomed to it now. She grows on you and grows on you, and the moment she begins to be your friend you groan knowing you cannot stop the inevitable.

Yelena Belova will be the death of you.

~*~

It’s been almost a year of being friends with Yelena, and you are miserably, ridiculously in love with her.

If there’s one thing you’ve learned after countless conversations, shared drinks and laughs, it’s that she’s annoyingly easy to fall in love with and annoyingly difficult to fall out of love with.

Your stupid heart beats faster whenever you see her stupid gleaming eyes and her stupid glossy blonde hair that always, always falls perfectly into place around her stupid pretty face; you feel like one of Pavlov’s dogs whenever you hear that raspy Russian drawl roll over your ears and you absolutely cannot stand it.

It’s stupid- she’s Yelena, and everyone still wants her. You’re stupid because you thought you could avoid joining that statistic, and it frustrates you to no end; it’s bad enough to develop feelings for Yelena, known playgirl, but it’s even worse when you develop feelings for Yelena, your best friend.

In an effort to get over her, you let your other best friend set you up on a date with one of their friends, hoping that it can turn you into something resembling your old self, because then you can get back to acting normally around Yelena instead of…whatever this is.

You meet up with your date at your favorite bar. It’s familiarity brings you comfort because you’ve always been awful at dates, and even if you don’t know this girl, you still feel nervous.

She introduces herself as Kate as you two settle into one of the more isolated tables in the corner of the bar, and you’re grateful she seems to make conversation much less anxiously and awkwardly than you do.

Kate is pretty and seems really nice; she’s bold when she flirts with you, which catches you off guard because you’re used to how Yelena flirts. You can’t really bring yourself to flirt back, because somehow it feels like a betrayal, but Kate is patient and takes it in stride. You find yourself not resenting your best friend’s pick as much as you thought you would, and an hour and two drinks pass by rather painlessly.

Kate gets up to go to the bathroom as you thumb the wet ring around your third drink, and consider the pros and cons of replying to the text Yelena sent you hours ago.

It is truly unfortunate that just as you sit your phone down without answering, determined to leave it alone, she walks into the bar.

Yes, you know this for sure: Yelena Belova will be the death of you.

~*~

You will be the death of Yelena Belova. She knows this.

You do not.

You are everything that enchants her and frustrates her; from the moment she’s partnered with you, she can’t stop thinking about you.

Yelena is both a complicated and a simple girl.

(“I’m an onion. I have layers,” she tells you one night early in your tentative friendship, and startles because it’s the first time you’ve ever laughed aloud at something she’s said; she decides immediately it’s her favorite sound and endeavors to elicit it any chance she gets.)

Yelena is both a complicated and a simple girl, but she knows when she wants something and she always pursues what she wants.

(“It sucks!” She laments one day to her sister. “I’ve never wanted anything as much as Y/N, and I can’t even do anything about it!”

Natasha glances unimpressed at her sister dramatically plopped onto the couch beside her. “You could always, I don’t know, ask Y/N out.”

Yelena grabs a pillow and shoved her face into it with a groan. “I’ve tried that, don’t you think I’ve tried that! Every time I flirt, I’m brushed off. I’m not taken seriously!”

“Well you do look like a clown, of course it’s hard to take you seriously.”

Natasha easily dodges the pillow flung at her head as Yelena scowls at her. “Not helping, Natasha.”

“Okay, okay,” Natasha holds her hands up in surrender. “What if you tried a different approach? Maybe ease up on the flirting and try acting like a friend first.”

“But I want to be more than friends,” Yelena pouts childishly, and Natasha blinks.

“I feel like I’ve just slipped into an alternate universe. Yelena Belova wants to enter a committed relationship,” Natasha deadpans and dodges another pillow aimed at her head.)

Yes, Yelena wants you and has wanted you for a very, very long time, but she’s got no clue how to tell you she loves you without you thinking she’s joking or misunderstanding her entirely.

(“Y/N, I looooove you,” she drawls one night, drunk as you ease her into the back of your car. You don’t know it, but it’s the first night she’s turned down a convenient partner because she just couldn’t get you off her mind. Afterwords, she wasn’t sure if she got so trashed in mourning or celebration and called you because you’re the only thing solid in her vodka haze.

You answered, assumed she’d needed a DD - which she did - and rushed to take her home.

She falls in love with you even more with how quickly you come to get her, how dependable you are even in the middle of the night.

So she tells you she loves you, over and over again, and you furrow your brow at her in your rear view mirror in confusion.

Then, you giggle because she starts singing loudly.

She pouts at your laugh, and you wonder what is going on in that pretty little head, completely unaware that the only thought running through it is you.

Yelena babbles more at you, love pouring from her lips over and over because she’s desperate for you to understand that you’re the most beautiful thing she’s seen as the moonlight glances off your cheekbones in your car and she’s never met someone who calls her on her shit and you make her laugh and-

“Alright, comrade. Let’s turn you on your side. There’s a trashcan right here, and a couple of water bottles and ibuprofen right there,” you say gently as you guide her into her apartment and into her bead. She clutches at you as you slide her shoes off, tries to tell you again, but you just shake your head with a smile.

She goes quiet, stunned by the sight of it.

You pat her on the head, pull the covers over her, and turn out the light. She makes a sound of protest as you say goodnight, but stirs no further, and you leave silently back to your apartment.

Yelena wakes up with a dry mouth, a headache, and a text from you that says:

Are you alive, comrade?

She furrows her brow because you’ve never called her that before and dials your number as she guzzles down her pills and water.

As it rings she remembers telling you everything, but can’t recall your response; it makes her heart beat more rapidly than when she runs.

“Good morning, comrade!” You chirp smugly, practically hearing her wince.

“Morning. What’s with the comrade, comrade?” Yelena asks, her hope tentatively rising because you don’t sound like someone totally disgusted with her for confessing her feelings.

You laugh, and she automatically smiles in response.

“Well, you were very chatty last night.”

Her hope blooms further in her chest, because finally, finally you understand she’s serious about you.

“But you were absolutely committed to your mother tongue. I don’t think you said one word in English the whole ride back to your place, besides my name.”

It is only then that she is overcome with the crushing realization that she spent the entire night professing her love to you in Russian, which you do not speak.

Yelena feels like the wind has been knocked out of her, but she forces a choked laugh out anyways as you go on. She’s thankful you do, because she’s not sure that after all the words she’d said last night uselessly that she has any words left in her.

“You know, you kept saying something, it sounded kind of like this,” you mimic the phrase, stumbling a little over the pronunciation but it’s almost perfect. It is perfect to her.

Those green eyes you adore so much well up in tears to hear you say “I love you” to her, especially to hear it in Russian. But it’s so, so cruel because you have no idea what you’re saying, no idea what she meant when she said it to you first.

She laughs again hopelessly, quickly changes the subject and lets you rant on and on about what you have to do that day.

When you get off the phone, she sighs and falls back into bed, playing the way you said I love you over and over in her head.)

Yelena loves you, and she knows you’ll be the death of her.

She becomes especially aware of this recently, when you start acting odd. You’re distancing yourself a bit because you’re in love with her so much it hurts, but she doesn’t know that and she’s bothered like never before.

So she finds herself at her favorite bar, which is also your favorite bar, to ease her nerves. She’s both surprised and thrilled to see you sitting in the corner table there, if a little confused. Still, she’s pulled to you like a magnet, like she’s been for the past year, and she approaches you with a grin.

Pt.2:

#yelena belova #yelena x reader #yelena belova x reader #yelena x you #Taylor Swift inspires gay thoughts #we love dumbasses who can’t communicate #black widow #natasha romanoff

[rkived]

━ CHASING PAVEMENTS 04 │ JJK

↳ PAIRING: dad!jk/married!jk/bff!jk x reader 

↳ GENRE/TAGS: f2l, angst, unrequited feelings, cheating, future smut

↳ WARNINGS: (for this chapter) angst as per usual what’s new, jk is sad, reader is sad, sunhi is sad, everyone’s just SAD

↳ RATING: (for this chapter) PG

↳ WORD COUNT: 4k 

↳ SYNOPSIS: Jungkook’s been feeling a little weird lately. Maybe it’s got something to do with his crumbling marriage and the way you seem to care for his daughter more than his own wife.

↳ A/N: ehem let’s pretend like i didn’t ghost this story for like half a year aha i’ve written more than this for cp but i decided to just divide it and leave the juicy stuff for the last chapter !! sorry for making u wait so long </3 anyway hope u enjoy still n i’ll see u in a couple months for the final chapter of cp!! (i’m jking…..or am i?)

01 02 03 04 05 (coming soon)

Minji thinks you’re starting to get better. 

Well, she hopes you are because it’s been two months since you broke the news on her and anyone would think that’d it be long forgotten by now. She tries to stop as often as she can to check up on you, even though you assure her that you’re fine and that a simple text would suffice instead of having her come over every day in between. 

Which is why she’s unsure if giving you the invitation Jungkook had handed her about two weeks ago was a good idea, considering that it’s been a few days since you had last even mentioned him to her like you usually did before. In fact, today you look like you’re at peace for the very first time.

‘‘I did yoga!’’ You explain when she mentions that you look different, ‘‘I still can’t face going back to Namjoon’s class, but I remember a ton of positions he taught us!’’ 

Minji has to force herself to smile, her hand lingers inside the purse she’s carrying as her fingers fiddle with the cardstock paper waiting patiently to be handed. 

‘‘And then I stopped for some yogurt at the place down the─’’

‘‘I need to give this to you,’’ Minji stops your ramble and you’re taken aback by how urgent her voice sounds, very unlike her. ‘‘I promised I’d get this to you, so…’’ 

You’re about to ask her what she’s on about when she abruptly hands what you could make out to be a colorful piece of paper. Your eyebrows furrowed at the sight, completely confused until it suddenly hit you what it is that your friend’s talking about.

‘‘How did you─?’’ 

Minji gives you half a smile and shakes her hand so you can take the card instead of just staring at it, ‘‘Just─take it.’’

Your hand reaches out to grab it from her and your eyes quickly focus on the unicorn and sparkles themed birthday invite. It reads that it’s Sunhi’s birthday and that you are invited! You recognize the handwriting that filled the party’s information details, you always thought he had really nice penmanship. 

‘‘I think you should go,’’ Minji’s voice sounds like she’s faraway, but she’s just a few feet away from you, ‘‘for Sunhi.’’ 

You’re still staring at the invitation, memorizing every single detail. There’s so many unicorns, when did she start liking the mythical creature? She had never mentioned a liking towards them to you ever. You assume it must’ve happened during these few months of your absence.

How many moments have you missed? How many unanswered questions must Sunhi have by now? How many new toys has she had to wait to show you? How many kindergarten stories has she been saving to tell you? 

You’ve been counting. Sixty days have passed since you last saw Sunhi. It’s been seven Fridays since you last had her in your arms. 

Sixty days and seven Fridays since you kissed Jungkook. Fifty-nine days since you blocked him. 

Minji is still waiting for any sort of reaction from you. You’re stoically analyzing the piece of paper and she wonders what is it that you’re thinking or feeling. Is it good, bad or all in one? Whatever it is, her small deed is done. 

‘‘Y/N?’’ She calls out, you slowly nod and take your eyes from the invitation from the first time since she gave it to you. ‘‘Do you mind if I go? I have some stuff to─’’

A small gasp escapes your lips, ‘‘Yes Minji, of course!’’ Your friend smiles slightly and you proceed to escort her out your apartment. She actually doesn’t have anything to do, but she thinks it’s best if you get some space to take everything in. 

Minji notices how you’re still holding on to the birthday invite and she has to suppress a chuckle because she knows you’re most likely doing this absentmindedly. 

Before you’re able to thank her for coming, she stops you to say one last thing. ‘‘If you don’t want to go, then don’t,’’ she begins and your eyebrows raise at your friend’s comment. ‘‘Whatever it is that you decide on doing, I’ll support you either way,’’ Minji offers you a genuine smile and you can’t help but hug her tightly.

You’re alone again. Loneliness has come in waves as of lately. You’ve lived alone for years now, you’re used to being the only person present in your apartment ─ but that fact hasn’t felt more obvious than since you shunned Jungkook out. 

Good days eventually turn sour. The times where it seems like you can go on about your life without thinking about him and what he might be up to quickly change because your mind makes you feel bad about feeling good. 

Why did you cut him off knowing his daughter idolizes you like no other? Why did you selfishly decide to block him when you could’ve just talked it out? Why didn’t you stop him that night if you knew things would change between you two? Why did you let him kiss you knowing it was going to hurt in the end?

You know Sunhi’s fourth birthday is coming up. It’s one of those dates you can’t simply forget, it comes naturally to you. You had settled with the idea that you weren’t going to be invited this time around, it would’ve been okay since you think it’s what you deserve anyway. If Jungkook had taken you off the guest list, he was in his total right to do so. 

You want to be mad at him right now.

Why would he invite you? Why couldn’t he just leave things the way they were? You wish you were angry, but you’re not. You feel slightly comforted with the fact that he had decided to include you even with everything that went down. In fact, not inviting you would’ve been selfish knowing that Sunhi must want you there. 

And if the invitation wasn’t enough of a sign that you should go, two days ago you got an email that the gift you had preordered for Sunhi some time ago was on its way to your place. Just in time for her birthday party. 

That’s life for you. 

You’re quick to remind yourself of Minji’s last words to you. You’re not obligated to go and if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to. But you’d be lying if you said that because you really want to go, but there’s still some things that are holding you back. Your brain starts breaking down the pros and cons of going. 

The pros: You’d get to see Sunhi again, who you missed terribly and a tiny part of you was wishing that she didn’t hate you for suddenly leaving. It’s too much to ask for, but you do hope that Jungkook had come up with something instead of telling her upfront that you had left. 

The cons: You’d have to see Jungkook. Having to face the awkwardness of knowing you had blocked his number, prohibiting him from contacting you and discussing what happened like adults would do. 

Oh, and you’d see Jiwoo too and pretend like you didn’t have any romantic feelings for her husband. 

Whatever decision it is, you’d only have two days to decide.

Jungkook smiled warmly as he looked at Sunhi twirling in her green and purple dress in front of the long length mirror in his bedroom. Ever since he got the garment in the mail, he had to hide it from her curious hands because if it were up to her she’d be wearing it day and night. 

‘‘Daddy, I look so cute!’’ Sunhi said with an excited tone, hopping in her place. The tull of her skirt followed her movements, making the glittery details sparkle brightly caused by the natural sunlight slipping through the curtain cracks. 

He chuckled, ‘‘You do, Pumpkin, but you need to settle down.’’ Jungkook placed his hands on her tiny shoulders, making his daughter’s bouncing cease. ‘‘You gotta be fully energized for the party, alright?’’ She nodded quickly, but he could still feel the excitement radiate from her. 

‘‘Gramma will do my braid, daddy.’’ Sunhi let him know once she noticed her father take a brush in his hand. The little girl much rather have her hair tangled in knots than having him attempt to do any sort of hairstyles on her. 

Jungkook pouts, but nods understanding. He’s thankful that his parents had made the trip from Busan this year. He knows his mother knew he would have a hard time setting everything up by himself this time around. His parents would normally miss Sunhi’s parties due to the distance, but he’d make it up to them by visiting the following weekend and doing a smaller gathering at their house instead. 

Things feel different. One could say that this time, everything is exactly where it should be. Sunhi’s growing older, his parents are here and not far away like usual, Jiwoo’s no longer in the picture, he’s picking back up the things that used to make him happy. There’s just a missing piece that doesn’t allow him to declare the puzzle’s finished.

And his daughter hasn’t really been helpful in allowing him to forget about it either. 

‘‘Daddy, is Auntie Y/N going to come?’’ She asked for what seemed the thousandth time that week alone. The younger girl only wanted to make sure you’re coming even though her father had reassured her that you might be making an appearance. 

Jungkook hummed, pursing his lips together, ‘‘Well, I don’t know if Auntie Y/N will manage to catch her flight in time for your party, but hopefully she’ll come,’’ he painfully lied and Sunhi nodded with a pout, she was hoping she’d get a different answer this time around, but still settles with her father’s explanation. 

Ever since you left, it had been part of her daily routine to ask about you and your whereabouts. Jungkook hated lying to his daughter, but he knew that even if he were to explain the ending of your friendship, she wouldn’t be able to understand. He had foolishly hoped that after telling her, repeatedly, that you had been out of the country because of your job, Sunhi would get the clue that you showing up at her birthday party was very unlikely. 

He can’t blame her because he’s also been hoping that you’ll show up for whatever reason. Jungkook’s aware that Minji had made no promises of you attending, but that little bit of faith he still had, clung onto you tightly. 

He’s let go of so many things recently, but he refuses to add you to that painful list. 

‘‘I miss Auntie Y/N,’’ Sunhi mumbled to herself, but Jungkook heard her clearly and his heart shattered at the longing in his daughter’s voice.

That’s why he’s relieved that she’s now running around the yard with her friends from the kindergarten she attends, screaming in glee as they all chase each other around the grass. The PinkFong playlist he had put together earlier that week has been a hit with the children, who danced and sang along to the lyrics; although some parents might’ve gotten tired of hearing the infantile music after a while. Jungkook himself is part of the people who much rather listen to something else, but it’s worth it if it means he catches Sunhi humming along to the tunes every once in a while. 

Having to entertain the parents has taken his mind off of knowing you’re not there. The party started two hours ago and you’re never late for anything, especially his daughter’s birthday celebrations. He’s settling with the idea that you’re no longer coming while he dabbles in serving food and refilling drinks, all the while having to make conversation with the parents of the invited kids. 

He can feel just how bad they feel for him, the word’s gotten around the PTA committee that he’s in the process of divorcing while taking full custody of his daughter.

‘‘Jungkook, how are you doing?’’ One of the invited moms asked him with a tactful tone, accompanied by a gentle smile that made him feel like a child for a mere moment. With a smile that could put anyone’s worries at ease, Jungkook assured her ─and the rest of the worrying mothers─ that he was doing just fine. 

It’s Sunhi’s day, it’s her party, a few more hours and you can cry all about it when she’s sleeping, had become his mantra as the party goes on.

‘‘What’s with the long face?’’ His mother suddenly asks him after he finishes placing the candles on Sunhi’s unicorn themed cake. 

Jungkook furrows his brows, ‘‘The unicorn’s face looks pretty alright to me,’’ he comments looking at the fondant shaped mythical creature at the top of the cake. 

Mrs. Jeon rolls her eyes, shaking her head slightly at his son’s obliviousness, ‘‘I’m talking about your long face. Is everything alright?’’ She asks in genuine concern, making him sigh as he scratches the back of his neck. ‘‘It’s not because of Jiwoo, right?’’ The woman cautiously asks, afraid the mention of her son’s ex partner might be too sensitive.

The news of the divorce had surprised his parents, but they weren’t completely heartbroken about it. They had known her for years, but it had never been a close relationship at that. His mother had made a couple of comments here and there before concerning his ex partner’s behavior, but were always overlooked by Jungkook.  

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise in surprise and he quickly shakes his head no, ‘‘I’m fine, mom. I’m just kinda tired.’’ 

For someone who hates lying, he’s been doing it a lot recently. 

His mother doesn’t seem so sure about his answer, but decides not to interrogate him any further since she knows her son has been dealing with too much recently and she didn’t want to add her nagging to the list. 

Eventually the party guests all sing happy birthday to Sunhi as she sits behind her cake clapping alongside them, mumbling the famous song as she waits for everyone to finish so she can blow the four candles out and make a wish. She closes her eyes with force, putting her hands together as the guests watch her silently mouth words out. 

‘‘What did you wish for, Sunhi?’’ One of the kids excitedly asks her, fingers curling around her arm as he waits for her to answer. 

Sunhi hmphs and turns her face away from him, ‘‘If I say it out loud it won’t come true!’’ 

Jungkook can only hope his daughter had asked for something he’s able to buy. The newest Barbie doll, a trip to the zoo, that pretty tutu she saw at the store. Anything that is at arm’s reach from him to give her. But Jungkook knows his daughter all too well, those things don’t really matter to her right now. 

Sunhi’s wish is something he can’t obtain ─ someone that’s no longer a call away from him. His daughter doesn’t know, but he’s wished for the same thing too. 

You to come back. 

The small pieces of confetti on the ground, paper decorations pasted on the wall and hanging from the ceiling of the house are enough to give away that a party had happened the day before, and that someone had been too tired by the end of it to even attempt to clean up. 

Even the thought of having to deal with all of the mess that his living room currently looks like is already making Jungkook regret not accepting his mother’s willingness to help after the party had ended yesterday, assuring her that she had done enough that day and that it was only fair he took care of the cleaning. 

Sunhi’s birthday had gone smoothly for the most part.

And as Jungkook scrolls through his phone’s gallery, smiling warmly at the small clips he managed to capture of his gleeful daughter running around the yard with her friends and the multitude of pictures his mother took of her blowing the candles of the cake out, granted, majority of them blurry, he is reminded that, although the party had been a success, the aftermath hadn’t been as pretty.

The party was over when he started hearing the first goodbyes and thankful comments of the parents for inviting them over, wishing Sunhi a final happy birthday before they took their sleepy kids in their arms. He had hoped his daughter would be drained too, despite the amount of sugar she had a few hours before. 

‘‘Auntie Y/N didn’t come.’’ Sunhi had stated, a pout on her trembling lips as she looked up at her tired father. ‘‘Why didn’t she come?’’ She asked in genuine curiosity as her eyes started glossing with tears.

Jungkook sighed, ‘‘Pumpkin, I told you she’s not in town. I’m sorry she─’’ It didn’t matter what excuse he had given her, the waterworks had begun. He hadn’t seen his daughter cry like that in a long time and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do to get her to stop. 

Even if he tried to coax her with distractions, like the number of gifts she had received from the guests or telling her he’d let her have another slice of cake if she stopped crying. He knew that what his daughter wanted wasn’t toys or food. She wanted you. And as much as Jungkook wants you just as much, he’s lost on ways to make you come back. 

Sunhi cried for what seemed like hours, his parents had even tried to cheer the little girl up by promising to take her to their house the very next morning for the rest of the weekend, to which she merely nodded as she fell asleep from exhaustion on her father’s chest. 

He envied her as he remained awake for most of the night, tears streaming down his face as guilt ate him away for his daughter’s heartbreak. 

It’s his fault after all. 

Jungkook isn’t upset you didn’t show up, you didn’t have to. Not even Sunhi could make you come back. Selfishly kissing you that night had changed the course of your relationship forever and that meant that his daughter would have to pay for his wrongdoings. 

With the absence of Sunhi, he’s reminded of just how big his house feels when he’s by himself. Ever since Jiwoo moved out, the only company he’s had is that of his daughter and it’s more than enough. With her dancing around the hallways and singing songs to the top of her lungs, Jungkook doesn’t feel as lonely.

He must’ve missed the knocking at the door or the ringing doorbell ─if there even was one─ because of the earphones he had on while he swept the confetti paper scattered on the hardwood floor of his home because by the time he opens his door to get a run around the neighborhood, he notices there’s a gift placed in his front doorstep. 

Jungkook’s brows furrow with confusion, unsure of why it was there in the first place. He’s sure Sunhi had opened all of her gifts last night, lazily and not very excited about them after her big cry, but she had made sure to leave them all unwrapped.

The medium-sized box is wrapped with a white and pink polka-dot paper, a cute golden ribbon placed right in the middle of it. Jungkook picks it up, bringing it closer for better inspection. Maybe it was from one of the kids that couldn’t make it? Although, they could’ve just gave it to Sunhi when they saw her at school again.

His eyes widen and his heartbeat races up when he reads the sticker tag with the name of the person responsible for the gift. 

‘‘To: Sunhi ♡

From: Auntie Y/N’’

His eyes scan the tag over and over again, just to make sure he’s reading the name correctly. When he manages to take his attention away from it, he looks around the street in hopes that he’d find you. 

How long has this been out here? Could he have caught a glimpse of you had he been less distracted? 

Although it feels wrong to open his daughter’s gift without her consent, he feels the urgent need to peek at what’s inside. His mind even tries to reason with himself, telling him it’s probably only a doll or a clothing item, like the other gifts Sunhi had received from the birthday guests yesterday. 

With a click of his tongue, he forgoes doing the right thing and tells himself that he’ll just wrap the gift again before Sunhi comes back from his parent’s house. 

The cute wrapping paper is thrown over his shoulder carelessly as he quickly unveils a white cardboard box, tilting his head slightly at what could possibly be inside. When he takes the top off, a soft gasp escapes his lips. 

A pink and white digital camera aimed for children lies inside, there’s decorative paper placed around it and a note inside. Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, taking it delicately in his hand as he reads the words written in the familiar handwriting that hasn’t changed from all those years back in college. 

‘‘Happy 4th birthday, Sunhi! Since you’re growing older, I wanted to gift you something different this year around. Your daddy loves taking videos and I thought you should start doing it too, maybe he’ll pick his camera back up again haha. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to see you blow your candles out, I hope all your wishes come true! I love you and miss you so much, 

-Auntie Y/N’’

Jungkook blinks back the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes. He places the note back inside the box and breathes in deeply, exhaling slowly as he stares at the gift. No one but you could come up with an idea like this. It hurts him, but he smiles slightly at your thoughtfulness. 

A different feeling arises inside him as he holds the gift in his hand, looking at it like this is the sign he had been sent from above. The last thread of his string of faith. He doesn’t even think twice, placing the gift gently inside and rushing to step outside to close the door. 

He’ll go on that run, just not around his neighborhood. 

As he runs past rows of houses and stores, the voice inside his head tries to tell him that he should think rationally. There’s a reason why you didn’t show up yesterday and another for you dropping the gift in front of his house without a sound. You don’t want to see him and yet he’s running straight towards you even if he knows this is hopeless. 

He manages to shut that voice off as he maintains his rapid pace, rushing past the rows of buildings he’s familiar with and the street names he’s memorized by now. It all feels so different when he’s not behind the wheel, he usually always has to depend on his GPS to help him reach places. Your address, though, is one he proudly knows by heart. 

As Jungkook stands outside your apartment building, he stares at it with the sound of his heart drumming inside his ears. Catching his breath, he’s reminded of the many times these past few months he’s been here, with Sunhi fast asleep in her car seat at the back. 

He always pictured going up, knocking at your door, and begging for forgiveness, all for you to turn him down in the end with a gut-wrenching I don’t want you in my life anymore and a door closing on his face. That’s why he always drove away, deciding that uncertainty is better than hearing you reject him.

This time, though, nervous and unsure as he usually is when he comes here, Jungkook breathes in deep and ignores the familiar knot formed inside his stomach. 

He decides that uncertainty isn’t a feeling he wishes upon you.

#heartsforbts #bangtanhq #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #btsghostie #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine

[tooweirdforyou]

I-I very much enjoyed your fic with the S/O having a mean & horrible ex. I-I was wondering if you could do one with Law, Shanks and Crocodile?? (It’s cause I too had a very horrible ex and it was very comforting to read your lovely fics) thank you so much and I hope you stay safe and have a lovely day 🥺💖💖💖💖💖

Law, Shanks + Crocodile And A S/O With A Mean Ex

A/N : I’m sorry this took a while, I really hope you all are okay, with having to experience and deal with exes like that :/

note : mentions of abuse / harsh words / names

no mention of specificity so I varied scenes.

Summary : these boys reacting to your mean ex coming by and talking to you.

Zoro, Mihawk, Ace » Here!

-

Law

Law is harsh. He is sadistic. He is angry. But yet, he remains calm. Though, he is quite the provoking type. He’s almost a Yandere.

It starts off on just coming onto an island in hopes to pick up some supplies. As much as the others focus, Penguin and Shachi are easy to get distracted and immediately made friends with a particular someone, while you were out with Law.

Once the crew regrouped at the coast, you and Law find Shachi and Penguin laughing with an unfamiliar person and your eyes widen at the sight.

“[ Ex Name ]?”

Almost immediately, laughter ceased and your ex turn to you with wide eyes before a sneer was seen, shocking everyone else once again.

“[Name]? What the hell are you doing here?” Your ex scoffs as they roll their eyes. “Everywhere I go, it seems it always links back to you, I swear.”

Your brows furrowed as you unintentionally took a step back, Law quickly noticing the said action as he narrows his eyes at the person.

“Who are you? What business do you have with [Name]-ya?”

“What business? Who the fuck are you?” Your ex then snaps in realization. “Ah, you must be the surgeon of death, captain of the Heart Pirates.” They began to cackle.

“Doctor? You went for a doctor after me?” They continue to laugh, you just gulping as they continue to take step by step closer to you.

Unknown to the group, Law was creating a giant room and his sword was ready to slice your ex apart.

“It makes sense you’d go for a doctor. Maybe he could find what the hell is wrong with your brain for even thinking about leaving me, you little—!”

Shutting your eyes and bracing for another physical attack from your ex, you widen them when you hear Law’s voice.

“That’s enough.”

SLASH!

“You really have the nerve to come to my crew, to walk towards my significant other, and dare attempt to hit them?”

Swinging his sword to rest on his shoulder, his eyes darken dangerously and a cocky smirk was found on his lips, nearly sending chills down everyone’s spine as they stare at your ex that was cut into two.

“What were you saying about them dating a doctor? Oh, that’s right. ‘To fix something in their brain’ was it? It was actually to allow me to heal any disgusting injuries that you both mentally and physically caused [Name]-ya.” Law corrects, pulling down his sword to cut a few more pieces from your ex.

Speaking of which, your ex didn’t say a word, mostly internally panicking at the sight of his limbs apart from each other, since he was witnessing first hand, the Surgeon of Death’s skills.

“Where is that arrogant attitude just now? What happened?” Law hums, tilting his head to the side before he continued to cut them piece by piece.

“Law.. let’s go..”

Law stands up hearing you and with a piercing glare, he sheathes his sword and stepped onto one of your ex’s hands, eliciting a whimper from them.

“Next time, I’ll break off your arms to make sure you can never even attempt to hurt [Name]-ya.”

With that, he began heading back to the submarine, guiding you along with him as the crew silently followed, the room disappearing and left your ex alone, all cut up.

And though you were in public, in front of the crew, Law willingly brought you closer to him. His movement gentle with you. Only for you, was he soft.

-

Shanks

Though Shanks’ looks are quite calm about all of this, his eyes say otherwise.

It would be when you are sailing around the New World, heading out to the Grand Line to meet with Mihawk with Shanks.

However, along the way, it seems something had occurred. A lone sailer, drifting across the water on a small boat passed out.

The kind gentleman he was, Shanks told the crew to pull him up and treat them. You almost didn’t recognize who it was, until they actually confronted you, and it seems someone still held anger within themselves.

“[Name]?”

You’d be shocked for sure, unable to say a word, just speechless that the person Shanks saved, turned out to be your ex that you left after they verbally abused you.

“Why the hell are you on Red Haired’s ship?... you don’t belong here..not on the famous, notorious one armed Emperor.” They were clutching their arm and had bandages all around them.

“I..” Before you could say anything, your ex continued to talk, unknown to the red-haired pirate Captain coming out himself.

“Even when we were dating, you always stood out. Not in the good way. You kept making trouble for me and everyone else, and just never belonged anywhere with anyone. I’m almost embarrassed I dated you.”

You simply look away, ignoring whatever he had to say, missing Shanks silent steps forward.

“You’re just an accident waiting to happen. Oh wait.. it already did.”

Before your ex could continue further, Shanks was already looming over them on the ground, the sharpest glare his eyes could muster. He didn’t even have to use haki to instantly intimidate your ex. You could tell from the fearful and shocked look across their face.

“My apologies, sir/Ma’am. I don’t think I heard you right. Could you repeat that for me?” His one arm would be gripping the hilt of his sword casually.

His face plastered the forceful and harshest grin you’ve ever seen.

“I know you couldn’t have insulted my beloved so casually like that, so I must kindly ask you to repeat your words once more. My dear [Name] is an angel and if you really have the guts to say further unnecessary things to my lover.. well.”

He began to unsheathe his sword and a smirk came over his lips.

“I can make you a nonfamous, one-armed asshole.”

Fully unsheathed, Shanks casually held out his sword, now crouching down to their level. “Would you like that?”

Hyperventilating at the thought of being cut by one of the Emperors, your ex simply screamed and ran over to the railing of the ship, before jumping off for his life.

You were just shocked, not quite sure of what to say or think but Shanks quickly snapped you out of it, his sword now sheathed and hand gently caressing yours.

“Hey, Angel. Let’s continue sailing and once we greet Mihawk, let’s have a party and relax. Okay?”

-

Crocodile

Crocodile is condescending.

He’d just sneer and scoff at your ex.

It’d be when you two are away for a bit, along with Mr. 1, Daz Bones. After Crocodile’s title as Warlord has been revoked.

You two were just together, Crocodile walking with you around the area and occasionally looking at a couple things through the display window, and if you looked at something a little too long, he’d immediately buy it for you, plus more, despite your attempts to stop him.

Now, this time, Crocodile and Daz had to discuss a certain topic that he didn’t want you to overhear, so he gave you some money and told you to wander around and buy yourself some things.

Not wanting to disrupt their important meeting, you agreed, and so you were simply just walking around the town on your own.

Unfortunately, had to bump into someone along the way. Literally.

About to fall on your ass, a hand caught yours immediately. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you! Are you okay?-“

Almost immediately, once the person recognized your face, they let go and caused you to fall anyways.

“[Name]?!” Clear confusion ran across their face as they immediately jumped back at the shock. “Why are you here?”

You barely heard them, feeling pain on your tailbone from the rough fall as you slowly stood up. “I’m here.. for none of your business..”

Coughing slightly, your ex scrunches up their face before rolling their eyes. “I can’t believe I almost saved you. Get out of my sight, [Name]. This town isn’t big enough for the both of us.”

“Why don’t you leave instead?”

Crocodile, making his way over with Daz behind him, stares down at your ex like he was inferior. Nothing more than a pest.

His cigar between his teeth and his giant coat hanging around his shoulders, which he took off and carefully placed around you once he was beside you.

“Tch. An ex-warlord? Pathetic. I can’t believe you’re actually going out with a man like him.” Your ex comments rudely, making Crocodile smirk a bit in amusement, walking towards your ex and gripping his throat with his large hand.

“A man like me, you say? Someone who is strong enough to even become a warlord. Someone with money and power that can easily take you down within seconds?”

Slowly, your ex began to lose all liquid in their body and was becoming wrinkly, due to Crocodile’s sand.

His smirk then drops to one unimpressed as he squeezed harder, until there was nothing left.

“You are undeserving to even be in my nor [Name]’s presence. Get lost, you pathetic waste of space.”

With that, Crocodile dropped your ex’s lifeless corpse and turned to you, with a soft expression. “Let’s go, darling. We’ll find you some new clothing.”

Hand pressed against the dip of your back, he gently guided you away from the scene and let Daz take care of your ex’s body.

-

Sorry for the delay, anon. I sincerely hope this was okay!

#tooweirdforyou #one piece #one piece x reader #op x reader #x reader #op #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile #one piece crocodile #crocodile x reader #red haired shanks #akagami no shanks #shanks x reader #one piece shanks #trafalgar d. water law x reader #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #law x reader

[heyyyharry]

Till Death (a Halloween one shot)

…in which Y/N and Harry share a flat but he cannot see her.

Warning: DEATH, MENTAL ILLNESS, MENTION OF SU1C1DE AND SELF-HARM (inexplicit). There's a happy ending tho 😬

Inspired by Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride and this song.

Word count: 3.9k

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.

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“Oh, you’re home!” she said as he shut the door and kicked off his shoes. His hair was a mess, his eyes dark and weary. He leaned against the wall and released a long heavy sigh.

“Trouble at work?” she asked. He didn’t answer. He never did. But it was okay. She was used to it.

She watched him trudge toward the couch and slump into it with his head buried in his hands. It was so quiet. It was always quiet here, and most of the time, she enjoyed the silence. After all, it was all she ever knew. But she also liked his laugh and his voice when he talked on the phone. He never talked to her. He was a great listener though, and she liked to talk anyway, so she had nothing to complain about. He never interrupted her, never commented; he only listened.

He rested his head on the couch with an arm over his closed eyes. She sat down beside him, her legs together, her hands on her knees.

“Guess what I did today,” she said.

He let go another long breath.

Silence.

“Alright, alright, I’ll tell ya.” She rolled her eyes, suppressing a grin. “I made a new friend. A bird. I saw him on our balcony this morning. I named him Steve. Can you imagine? A bird named Steve. I think Steve likes me as much as a bird could like someone–”

“Oh, shit!”

She flinched as he jumped to his feet.

“Where are you going?” she asked, slightly worried.

“Shit, I forgot,” he murmured, shoving his fingers into his already unruly hair as he reached for his phone on the coffee table. He sat back down and unlocked the screen. His handsome face was illuminated as he typed something into the chat. She rested her head on his shoulder and stole a glance at the screen, just enough to see who he was texting.

It was that name again.

She’d seen him text this person every day for the last couple of weeks. She didn’t know who they were or what they looked like or if they were male or female. All she knew was that they always got Harry’s full attention.

She thought it’d be rude to read other people’s texts, so she never did even though he would never stop her. Still, it didn’t mean she wasn’t dying to know what they said to each other. She would watch Harry as he talked to the person either on the phone or through texts. And he would always look so happy whenever a notification came and he saw the person’s name.

She bet they talked about more interesting topics, not just birds with human names. That thought alone gave a throbbing feeling in her hollow chest.

Sometimes, when she was with him, she forgot about its absence, which was good, because she wanted to forget.

But whenever she saw his eyes sparkle as he talked to this person, she would remember that there was somebody else out there with that thing in their chest, somebody he could feel and see and hear…

...and love.

Then she would remember what he was, what she was, and what they could never be.

After all, she was dead.

She didn’t remember how long she’d been dead. She only knew that she’d been alone for too long. Time didn’t really matter when you stopped growing older. She was stuck like this. Forever 21, as she would joke to herself. She didn’t know how old Harry was, but he had a job that stressed him out every day, so she assumed he was older than she’d been when she’d died.

She’d been trapped in this flat ever since. She’d watched people move her stuff out and other people move their stuff in. She’d forgotten about her loved ones or if she’d ever had them in the first place. She didn’t have any recollection of the life she’d had. She couldn’t even attend her own funeral. If she’d known that she’d be stuck in the place where she’d died, she would have probably not chosen to die here. She missed being outdoors, seeing new people. She wondered if she’d still be in love with Harry if he weren’t the only person she knew.

Honestly, she had never been in love when she’d been alive. She knew that, because even though the memories ceased to exist, she still would have remembered what being in love had felt like. It was funny, actually. When she’d had a heart, she hadn’t been able to use it, and now that she didn’t, she could feel it every day. Could someone love without having a heart? She didn’t know what love felt like to be sure that this was love, yet she knew that she’d rather spend an eternity with this man than to reincarnate into someone else.

They’d been living together for two years. Before him, there had been an elderly couple and a family of four. They’d been fun and lovely. But Harry was...different.

He was alone like her. She felt a deep connection with him in that way, as it was rare to find a person who appreciated isolation and not let it drive them insane. Almost everyone was terrified of being alone. Harry, however, found comfort in being alone. He always knew how to entertain himself. He read books. He sang in the shower. He cooked dinner for himself. He’d call his family to tell them about his day.

Sometimes, as she watched him talk to his mum and sister, she wished she remembered her own family. Would she still want to be alone if she remembered them? Well, she didn’t want to be alone now that she had him. It scared her sometimes. An attachment was a scary thing when you knew that you’d forever be temporary to the people around you. Like the elderly couple and the family, one day, Harry would leave, and she’d have to get used to new flatmates who would most likely leave again.

But that was for the future. Right now, what they had was enough.

.

.

.

“I’m seeing someone,” Harry said one day.

Y/N didn’t want to eavesdrop, but she was sitting by the window talking to Steve while Harry was on the phone with his sister. It was the first time Y/N heard him say the person’s name. He was smiling the entire time as he talked about her. Y/N loved seeing Harry smile, so it didn’t matter what made him smile. She just wanted to see him happy.

He told his sister that the woman he was seeing was coming over tonight. He seemed excited. Harry had only ever looked this excited except for when his favourite show came on. That was how she knew he loved this woman as much as he loved that show, which was a lot.

“Can I join you guys tonight?” Y/N asked him when he ended the phone call.

He put his phone back down and looked right at her. If she had a heart, it would combust right then and there. But what she didn’t expect was him marching towards her, thrusting his hand right through her chest and shutting the window. Steve flew away. Harry turned and left.

The place where his hand had been burned with its absence, leaving her frozen as she watched the bedroom door fall shut. He couldn’t feel her, but she could feel much more than a dead person was allowed to feel.

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.

.

Dinner was nice.

And so was the other woman.

It was funny how Y/N would refer to her as ‘the other woman’ when she’d been the one getting all Harry’s attention. She was sweet, blond-haired, great smile. She sat at Y/N’s spot at dinner. Y/N didn’t mind as she wasn’t eating anyway, yet it saddened her that she didn’t get to tell Harry her boring stories; the other woman was doing most of the talking.

Harry listened to her and laughed at her jokes. He never responded to Y/N that way. She’d been fine with it before, but seeing how he interacted with someone else made her want to vanish into thin air.

It was the first time in two years that she’d seen another living person beside Harry, and yet she had never felt lonelier.

After dinner, Harry asked if the woman wanted to spend the night and she said yes, so Y/N retreated to her spot – the bathroom. For some strange reason, she found comfort there. She would just get into the empty tub and lie there until morning.

Before Harry had moved in, she’d stayed in the bathroom at night while the living were asleep. Since Harry, she would usually spend the night outside his room. He’d always sleep with the door open and a lot of pillows. She didn’t want to be intrusive, but she’d heard him crying one night. His stepdad had just passed away and she’d stayed with him to keep him company, even though he hadn’t been aware of her presence.

She’d sat beside him on the bed as he’d cried. She’d told him that dead didn’t mean gone, that his stepdad might still be around, or have gone to heaven to get a new better life.

To be honest, she didn’t know if heaven existed for she didn’t get to leave this place, but maybe heaven only existed for the ones who deserved it. She was too good for hell, not good enough for heaven, so she was still here.

That night, as she was lying in the tub, gazing at the shadows of objects cast on the ceiling, she couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d seen at dinner. A happy Harry. A truly happy Harry.

She’d always wondered what he looked like when someone made him laugh so hard he forgot about everything else, or when he blushed because of the things someone said to him, or when he looked at someone like they were the only person that mattered. Now that she’d seen it, it felt like torture.

She would never make him laugh. She would never get to hear him call her beautiful or tell her jokes just because he wanted to see her smile. He’d never get to know her. That was the worst part. It hadn’t bothered her before, and now it was too late to undo her feelings for him.

She didn’t have a heart, but as she lay her palms on top of her chest and shut her eyes, she could feel it breaking.

.

.

.

Ever since that night, the other woman would come over very often. It had hurt at first, then Y/N learned to get used to it. It didn’t mean it stopped hurting. She’d still feel invisible tears rolling down her cheeks every time they kissed in front of her. She’d spend most of the day avoiding them. It was hard to do so when she couldn’t leave the flat. She’d tried before. She’d tried to follow Harry outside, but the second she stepped through that door, she was back in the tub.

She was imprisoned in her own home where she felt like a guest. She had no one to talk to, and it had never been a problem before but now it was driving her insane.

Sometimes, she even wished that the other woman was dead. It was bad that love made her blind and envy made her cruel. Whenever that malicious thought crossed her mind, though, she’d think about Harry and instantly felt bad about wanting his girlfriend dead. It wasn’t a nice thing to wish onto anyone, especially when Y/N herself knew how overrated death was.

It wasn’t a solution. Just more problems.

And at the end of the day, it shouldn’t matter if she was hurt. After all, she was dead. Dead people couldn’t feel pain. This was just an illusion. Her pain wasn’t real. If Harry lost someone he loved, that would be real. And she’d take all the hurt just to keep him happy. Always.

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.

.

Tonight, Harry came home alone.

She asked him what was wrong, knowing he wouldn’t answer. He went straight to the couch and buried his face into his hands. She wondered if he’d forgotten to take his pills again. She’d call them his happy pills. He’d been taking them for a couple of months now. He was always so sad and numb without them. Lately, it seemed like he hadn’t been taking them.

“I wish you’d tell me what’s on your mind,” she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder.

Silence sank in. The heaviness in her hollow chest became too much to bear.

Then, his shoulders began to shake.

He started crying.

She’d seen him cry before, but this time she could feel everything he was feeling. And it was even worse for her because she could not do anything about it. When a person cried, they’d feel better afterwards. There was no better for the dead. Just forever numbness. Forever pain. Maybe she hadn’t gone to hell because this was her hell. What had she done to deserve this?

Whatever. This wasn’t about her.

She wished she could wipe away Harry’s tears and tell him things that’d make him feel better. She felt powerless. There was nothing she could do to help.

She sat and watched him cry for what seemed like forever. When he finally stopped, he took out his phone and texted the other woman.

This time, Y/N read.

They’d broken up. The messages didn’t say why. All Y/N knew was that Harry was madly in love with the other woman. He’d sent so many messages asking her to stay, telling her he couldn’t live without her. And she never responded to a single one.

“Harry…” Y/N murmured.

Harry shook his head gently as if he’d heard it. Then, he got to his feet and padded to the bedroom. The door fell shut, leaving Y/N with the uncomfortable silence that could smother her.

She started pacing back and forth outside his bedroom. Her head swam with half-formed regrets. She wished she’d done something to stop him from getting to know the other woman and falling in love with her. But what could she have possibly done? She was dead. She was a ghost, floating around, haunting this place. She couldn’t keep two living people from falling in love. She couldn’t stop the woman from breaking Harry’s heart.

But that was one thing about not having a heart, you’d hurt twice as much trying to protect a heart that wasn’t your own.

Something crashed.

Glass shattered.

The world stilled for a second as Y/N burst into the bedroom.

There he was. Staring right back at her.

But there was also him. On the floor. The real him.

Those weren’t his happy pills.

“Harry!” she screamed and rushed towards the Harry on the floor. His ghost stood there watching in silence as she tried to wake him. She couldn’t touch him. She could only scream and if he’d never listened before, he wasn’t listening now. “Harry, please wake up...Please wake up…”

She lay her palm on his chest. He wasn’t dead. She could still feel his heart beating. His skin pale and his breathing slowed. Half of him was still fighting to live and as long as the other half didn’t overpower him, he might be saved.

“Who are you?” asked the ghost standing beside her.

She looked up. The other Harry was looking right at her, not through her. This one could see her.

“I’m Y/N,” she said, still in shock.

“Y/N,” he echoed.

She’d heard him tell the other woman that he would repeat a person’s name so he wouldn’t forget it. He could hear Y/N, see her and now he knew her name. Her invisible heart swelled for a second, but then she could feel it, the beating of that living thing under his chest. He was still half-alive. But he wouldn’t be for too long.

“You must hold on,” she told his ghost, panting heavily as she started freaking out. “You can’t...you can’t die...you must...I don’t know....get back into your body before it’s too late.”

“I don’t know how, and I don’t want to,” he said, staring at himself, and then at her. She didn’t like the look he was giving her. It was as if she was an exotic animal and he was a curious child going to the zoo for the first time. “Are you a ghost?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, rising to her feet, trying to avoid his gaze. “I-I died here…”

Silence.

“How long have you been here?”

She shook her head. “I don’t remember. When you’re dead, your memories start to fade. Now I don’t remember anything from when I was alive.”

“So there’s no afterlife?” Harry asked, his voice breaking a little. She looked up and saw him staring at his own body with a pained expression that could be regret. “You just...stay here?”

“I don’t know about the other ghosts, but that’s what it is for me,” she said, rubbing her arms.

“Aren’t you lonely?” he asked.

“Well, not really. I’ve got you.”

Her answer seemed to surprise him. He blinked. “But I couldn’t see you or talk to you.”

She raised a soft smile. “But I could see you and talk to you. That was enough.” Harry was giving her an expression she could not interpret, so she hurriedly went on, “Believe me. Death is overrated. You don’t want it.”

“But what if I do? I lost my job and someone I loved. I have struggled every day for the past few months, so why bother?”

“So you think it’s easy for me?” she asked. “I don’t have a heart, yet I still feel things and I can’t cry and the feelings won’t go away. They’ll still be here when everyone else leaves. Dead doesn’t mean gone but it’s the end of second chances. I’ll never get to celebrate my twenty-second birthday. I’ll never get to graduate. I don’t remember my family or if I ever had one. I don’t get to make friends. I don’t...don’t get to be loved…

“And if that doesn’t sound bad to you, just think about all the people you’d leave behind. Your mum, your sister. You won’t remember them but they’ll remember you. And they’ll have to carry the pain of losing you until it happens to them. I didn’t get to see them one last time because...if I tried to leave this flat, I’d just...just keep coming back here. I’d never get to apologise to them for abandoning them. I regret it every single day. And I don’t want it to happen to you.”

The Harry in front of her was quiet for a moment. The Harry on the floor was struggling to breathe.

“If I die,” he spoke, his eyes meeting hers, “you won’t be lonely anymore. Why are you trying to talk me out of it?”

She took a moment to think. Then, “Because I love you.”

His eyes widened as he parted his lips. He didn’t believe it. For the first time, Y/N could see herself in him. She wouldn’t believe it if someone told her they loved her, either. She thought she couldn’t be loved. That was why she’d chosen the easier way out. It wasn’t easy; she knew that now. So she wasn’t going to let him make the same mistake.

“You think no one cares, but I do,” she said, reaching for his hand. She held it, lacing her fingers with his. “So please hold on. If you fully give up, you cannot be saved.”

He looked at himself and then back at her. “Where did you die?”

A pause.

“The bathroom.”

Sadness set over his features. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said, smiling. “I’ve never been better than I am now.”

“Harry!” shouted a female voice as the front door burst open suddenly and frantic footsteps rushed into the room.

The moment Harry saw the woman he loved, hope lit up his entire face. The woman screamed as she collapsed by his body and pulled out her phone to call an ambulance. She kissed his face and told him how much she loved him, that she was sorry, that she’d take back all the things she’d said, that she wanted to spend many more years with him.

Y/N felt herself losing grip of the other Harry. He started to fade. She tried to hold onto him, but it was no use.

And before he was completely gone, he smiled at her and said, “Thank you.” And she thanked him, too. For seeing her. And not giving up.

.

.

.

Harry didn’t remember anything when he came back from the hospital. He got back together with his girlfriend, who finally moved in with him. They lasted for two years and their relationship ended on good terms. After that, Harry, now with the job that he loved, started seeing other people and stopped taking his happy pills. He’d got better. He was happy all the time. He didn’t remember his conversation with Y/N, but sometimes she’d catch him staring at the bathtub. She’d pretend that he could see her and she’d smile and wave. Maybe he could, but he didn’t want to freak her out. Who knew?

He moved out of the flat after a few more years. The last night he was there, she’d lay on the floor beside his bed as he slept.

The ones after him were fun. Y/N liked meeting new people. One couple even had a pet and she finally had someone to talk to. Still, sometimes she would think about Harry and wondered what he might be doing now.

One night, while lying in the tub, she discovered a tiny word someone had written on the bathroom wall.

Hello.

She’d been here long enough to know that it hadn’t always been there. She recognised that handwriting. Though she wished she’d found it sooner, it made her happy as she traced her fingers over it and imagined him thinking of her.

.

.

.

Y/N didn’t know how much time had passed.

But Harry did return.

When he came in, she almost didn’t recognise him. He was an old man in a wheelchair. She’d overheard him talking to his caretaker that he wanted to spend his last days in this flat. He stayed in bed for that whole first week and she’d lie beside his bed and talk to him each night.

He died of old age.

One night, he went to the bathroom and lay down in the tub and fell asleep and never woke up.

She stood in the doorway, watching him.

Then, she felt a tap on her shoulder. When she turned, she saw the same Harry who was young and handsome and wearing the same clothes as the day he’d first seen her.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi,” she said.

Apparently, when you died, you got to choose the age you wanted to be. She’d chosen to be twenty-one, the age she’d died. Harry had chosen to be twenty-four, the age he’d met the ghost girl who had saved his life.

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