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d1ner · 1 month

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fwb: nanami kento (18+)

nanami kento doesn't know how to be just "friend's with benefits".

tags: (fem aligned user) (uses y/n) (jealousy) (not proofread also sorry this is my first real smut ive posted on tumblr) (uses the L word (gasp!))

(art for header found on pinterest)

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fwb!nanami didn't know how to approach you, his friend and colleague, about being friend's with benefits. he wasn' the kind of man to just have sex with someone. he didn't fuck- he made love. it wasn't until gojo dug his nose in, asking you if you'd ever want a fwb within earshot of nanami- you saying you wouldn't be opposed- that made him even think to ask.

fwb!nanami who brought a bouquet of roses to your apartment the first time he came over to "netflix and chill," stumbling over his words and acting like an utter fool in front of you. it was cute, and you eased him into the situation as naturally and slowly as your body would allow. his arm was awkwardly placed on your shoulder as you nuzzled up against him on the couch, and he seemed all too focused on the movie that was playing.

"kento, do you just wanna watch the movie and try again another day?" your soft voice cooed, and it made him fall apart, the sweat on the back of his neck rolling down his back. oh god, you were so pretty. he knew he wasn't doing anything right, and yet you still looked up at him so affectionately. this isn't what friends with benefits act like, was it?

"n-no, i'm just.. i've never done anything like this before." he swallowed whatever moisture had stayed in his dry mouth, forcing himself to meet your eyes, only to meet an understanding gaze that tore down all of his walls.

"it's okay, we can go slow."

fwb!nanami who's so gentle with you during your first time together. even though you wanted your brains fucked out, his gentle touch and praise that spilled from his lips as you sunk onto his length was equally satisfying.

"you're so warm n tight, y/n.. i can't, 's too much. you feel so good," nanami groaned, his hands kneading your hips as your lips kissed along his neck, licking soothing stripes along his sensitive skin to ease him through it.

he wasn't a virgin, but still.. this. this was new. fucking someone just to fuck them. to fuck you, his gorgeous friend who had always behaved so normally towards him. would things stay normal between you two? he was already overthinking. how did friends with benefits just stay friends when all he could think about was how pretty your face twisted in pleasure, how soft your skin felt-

"kento," the sound of your sighed moan snapped him into reality, and he whimpered in his low, gentle voice, his head falling back against the couch as you rolled your hips against him. that's right- all he needed to think about right now was how good you felt milking his cock, not how your friendship was gonna turn out tomorrow.

"oh, fuck, y/n."

fwb!nanami who didn't wanna leave you that night when you fell asleep in his arms, your head resting on his chest. carefully, he carried you to bed, tucking you in while stroking his fingers through your hair.

"stay," your sleepy, mumbly voice shot an arrow through his chest just as he was trying to quietly leave your bedroom.

yes, of course he'd stay. you'd taken such good care of him, making sure he was comfortable while taking every last drop of cum he had to offer. he didn't realize how pent up he was until he unloaded into you the first time. but once your lips wrapped around him maybe an hour later, he grew more needy, thrusting his dick down your throat as he gently massaged the nape of your neck.

hesitantly he snuggled into bed with you, your sleeping form molding perfectly against his, your face subconsciously nuzzling into his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist to pull him close. were friends with benefits supposed to be this intmate? should his heart be racing like this?

but as the events of the day weighed heavier on him, he couldn't bear it, trying to find a way to fall asleep. with your steady breaths and warmth as you cuddled him it wasn't hard to get drowsy, but his thoughts consumed him. maybe this was a mistake- him and his bleeding heart.

fwb!nanami who made you breakfast the next morning. and everytime after that. he always brought you an offering like roses or flowers when he'd come over, and treat you like a queen each morning, kissing along your body to wake you up, tasting you before you'd get a taste of his cooking.

it was cathartic for him. no strings attached, just pleasure. it took him a while to understand the point in it, perhaps less stress?

though his heart still raced everytime you sat with him at work or hung out with him- not calling it a date.

"ken, you shouldn't have. we're just grabbing coffee," you whined with your face flushed red. again, this princely man bought your coffee for you and pulled out your chair as you sat at the cafe.

"i wanted to," he would say everytime, shaking his head. and he said the same when he insisted on walking you home from work, fucking you when you got home from work, massaging your muscles from the stress of work, oh lord this man was head over heels-

fwb!nanami who didn't realize he had fallen in love with you until someone at the grocery store asked for your number.

how could someone walk up to you, standing so pretty next to the shopping cart both you and him were putting groceries in, and ask if you were single? as if nanami wasn't standing right there, pushing your shopping cart, guiding you out of the traffic of other shoppers with his hand on the small of your back?

"oh, thank you, but i'm not interested in dating right now." was your response, making nanami's neck tighten. what does that mean? what were you two doing there?

you weren't dating, no. the point is that you were friends with benefits. no strings attached. just fucking, just pleasing each other. this grocery trip was as friends, the breakfasts together were as friends, the sex was as friends-

"ken," again, your voice was like the smooth, untouchable hand pulling him out of a bush full of thorns and pulling him into your softness. "did we get garlic already?"

"mhm," was the only sound to escape his throat. to hell if you were dating or not- he needed you, perhaps even more than you needed him. or at least more than you realized you needed him.

fwb!nanami who pounded you hard into the mattress that night. he was a gentle lover for the most part, always checking in on you, whispering your praises, moaning into your ear as he finished in you.

not tonight. he needed to let out that pent out rage, towards the person who asked you out of course- not you.

"who's this pretty pussy belong to, hmm?" he chuckled as he gripped your hair tighter, pressing your face down into your pillow harder. His free hand was holding your hips with a bruising grip, keeping your ass up as he fucked you into another orgasm.

"k-ken, aagh," you mewled, your hands balling into fists as you held the sheets tighter. "'m yours kento, f-fuck.."

he smiled- it was dizzying, your voice being so broken and yet so his. "that's it beautiful. all mine."

by the time he was satisfied he was dripping sweat, his chest against your back as his breath came out in ragged pants.

of course, ever the gentleman, he slowly slid his cock out from you, watching with possessiveness and satisfaction as his cum dribbled down your folds, and then your bruised thighs. a part of him felt bad for being so rough, but then watching your legs tremble and your pussy pulse around nothing made him feel much less guilty.

"lemme take care of you, pretty," he murmured, helping you stand before carrying you to the bathroom. he was so sweet, sitting down on the bench in the shower, having you on his lap facing him as he washed the sweat and mess off your body with his large yet gentle hands.

you were drowsy from the mix of getting fucked stupid and the heat of the shower, and nanami's soapy hands kneading at your flesh was only making you feel more at ease. you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, arms weakly wrapping around him.

"love you, ken," you murmured into his neck, eyes fluttering to try and stay open.

nanami froze, feeling an intense rush of heat rise to his face from ear to ear. he was sure that he would be the one to say it first. with how he worshipped you, he was positive that the words would leave his tongue first.

but alas there you were, softly kissing his collarbone as you fought to stay awake. his heart swelled, more than his cock as it twitched. god, he could fuck you again just for saying that. but more than that he wanted so desperately to kiss you.

"i love you too, y/n," he hummed, tilting your head up to meet your content smile, pressing his lips to yours, lovingly, as if he had never kissed you before.

#jjk nanami #nananmi kento #nanami kento #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x you #kento smut #kento x reader #kento x y/n #kento x you #drabble #nanami kento smut #kento nanami #kento nanami smut #smut fic #smut drabble

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judithhhh · 3 months

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better team (one-shot)

jude x gf! reader

summary : in which jude's gf is a fan of another football club and he gets jealous

you were sitting on the couch dressed in a psg jersey waiting for this week’s match to start. judes matches were often at the same time as psg’s so it was rare that you could actually watch them. you had been a fan of the french team since forever ; your dad was an even bigger fan than you and you had followed his steps naturally. too focused on the screen, you didn't notice jude walking downstairs.

‘’wearing another team’s jersey? what a betrayal really.’’

‘’shush, the match is gonna start’’

the man sat next to you, his arm around your shoulders. the whistle blew and the first half began with mbappe kicking off the ball. all of your attention was directly focused on the players, your eyes following the balls and exclamations coming out of you. you were really passionate about football, even more than jude sometimes, so it wasn't unusual him to see you yell at the players on the screen. your boyfriend found this quite funny when it was towards his team but seeing you so passionate about other players annoyed him.

‘’ mais putain, pass the fucking ball its not that hard’’ you yelled, already annoyed at psg’s incompetence

‘’they’re a shit team anyways…’’ said jude

‘’huh?’’

jude sighed when he realized you weren't even listening to him. he had no problem with you being a fan of another club but you were a little too passionate about it to his taste. he tried talking to you a few more times but gave up when you gave him no answers. he got up from the couch and went to your shared bedroom. he felt kind of stupid being mad about something like that, but sometimes his jealousy just got to him. the man stayed in the room, his eyebrows furrowing everytime he remembered the sight of you wearing mbappe’s jersey.

an hour and a half later, the match was over with psg winning 9-0. you were over the moon seeing your team win with such ease and was quick to get to your bedroom. seeing jude laying on his back on the bed, you jumped on him and sat on his lap before you started rambling about the game with excitement. you were talking about mbappe's header when jude interrupted you.

"well if he's so good, go date him" he mumbled annoyed

"huh, you jealous or something?" you responded jokingly, doubting that jude could be jealous over such a simple thing

"matter of fact, yes i am"

you burst out laughing before leaning down to kiss him. you frowned when he turned his head, allowing you to kiss his cheek only. you really thought that he was only joking but now you weren't really sure of that. you also knew that jude would continue to sulk until you comforted him.

"well maybe he's better at football than you"

"wow i see how it-"

"but you're sexier, and cuter, and taller, and more handsome and my boyfriend"

"if im all of that, why do u support him more than me"

you looked down at his annoyed face and burst out laughing.

"jude ive been supporting psg since im five, you can't just expect me to stop just because im dating you"

"im not expecting anything, just think you're too fan of this mbappe guy"

"he's the greatest player in the world right now, of course im fan of him" you said, knowing that it would annoy him even more

to your surprise, he just huffed before hugging you tight. his sad face was beggining to make you feel bad for him, even though you knew he wasn't really that mad about it.

"but you're the one i support the most"

"how come you're never as passionate when you watch my team then"

"that's not true and you know that. madrid is the team im rooting for the hardest."

"even if psg go against real in the champions league?" he asked

you were about to say no but stopped yourself when you saw the hope in his eyes. you sighed before telling him that yes, you would support real madrid even in that case. jude smiled and hugged you even tighter. you giggled when you felt his lips softly kissing your neck, signaling that he wasnt upset anymore.

"does that mean you'll throw away your psg’s jerseys?" he said hopefully

"baby i love you really but no, never"

"you're really breaking my heart right now" jude responded jokingly

you looked down at him, amused and pecked him all over his face. jude smiled widely, looking at you with those eyes that just made you fold. looking at him, you thought that maybe you loved psg a lot but you loved him even more.

a few months later, it was time for the final of the champions league. both psg and real madrid had won in the semi-finals meaning that you were about to see your childhood club and your boyfriend's club play against each other for the trophy. jude was nervous yes, but the boy could not wait to play them. he had been pestering you about "proving to you which team was better" for weeks now. you sat in the stands dressed in a real madrid's jersey, and was looking for jude on the pitch. spotting him training next to camavinga and vini, you smiled and sent him a kiss. he waved at you and pointed at the badge on his training kit, "reminding" you of the better team.

the match was intense, both team scoring two goals in the first half. you sensed jude's frustration from the pitch but you knew he was playing his best, he already had an assist to his name and his impact on the game had really helped his team to date. the first 30 minutes of the second half were goalless, both the teams were frustrated at this point and yellow cards were given to too many players. you were stressed seeing the clock reach the 80th minute until you saw vinicius intercept the ball and running towards psg’s goal. he made a quick pass to jude and the supporters expected him to continue running towards the goal. shocking everyone, your boyfriend went directly for the shot even though he was a good 40-50 yards away. the supporters in the stands and his teammates sighed, not even thinking that the ball would go in but it did. the ball was sent directly in the top right corner with such speed, you didn't even see it coming. you jumped from your seat and cheered loudly for jude, your love for the opposite team quickly forgotten. the boy ran towards the stands where you were sitting and did his usual celebration before pointing to you. you laughed seeing him mouth the words "who's better now?" and kissed the badge on your jersey. he smiled widely before turning around and celebrating with his teammates.

the rest of the game went on with as much intensity and a last goal from kroos. real had won the champions league yet again. you waited for the trophy ceremony to finish before going on the pitch to celebrate with your boyfriend. you waited, seeing jude doing a interview until he called you over to him. you were shy at first not wanting to appear directly in front of a camera, but the excitement from the victory gave you the courage to walk to him. as soon as you were close enough, he hugged you tight, lifting you up and kissing you. you giggled and congratulated him over and over again before he turned back towards the camera. seeing the little smirk that appeared on his face, you knew this man was about to say the cockiest shit ever.

"would you believe me if i told you this girl was all about psg a few months ago? look at her now huh" he said proudly

"nevermind, im putting on mbappe's jersey" you said faking annoyance

"don't you dare"

"watch me" you responded smiling

he lifted you up on his shoulder before smiling at the interviewer

"ignore her, she's going a bit crazy"

"JUDE PUT ME DOWN I SWEAR"

the footballer listened and put you down before wrapping his arm around you. you kissed his cheek and the two of you walked away from the cameras towards the pitch, ready to properly celebrate his win.

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REAL DESTROYED BARCA TODAY HALA MADRID BARCA VOUS PUEZ LA MERDE 😛😛😛😛

#football #football imagine #jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude x reader #football x reader #jude bellingham x reader #hey jude :)#psg

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awkwardarmadildo · 1 year

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to add on to the humans are space orcs/earth is the universe's australia, sensing. my therapist has recently explained that its not normal the way i know who and where someone is by their footsteps. not just the sound, but the vibrations. if someone isnt purposely walking on light feet, i can tell who and where they are, even with headphones blaring. imagine a human on a ship and the awe-filled terror itd earn from their non-human crewmates.

edit: ive realized i wasnt clear enough in my intentions. im not saying "if you can tell peoples footsteps apart, youve been ✨️ T R A U M A T I Z E D ✨️ d-(^♡^)-b ". its about the inherent panic in Not hearing the steppies and therefore Not having the time to prepare yourself for whoever might be approaching and essentially being ambushed. also, being able to tell if someone is normalTM, happy, sad, et cetera. the combined terror of not being given time to make oneself "presentable" for whoevers coming, And Also whoever has just seemingly teleported is fucking pissed, which is never good. Anyways, enjoy!!! ＼(^o^)／

Gilith enters the library, searching for Human Raven. They seem to be found most often either here or in one of the many gardens on the ship. Human Alex said he'd likely find them here today.

Gilith pokes his head through the doorway, not seeing Human Raven, but before he can move on, a voice calls out from one of the high-backed chairs decorating the library.

"Hello Lithy, what do you need?"

Gilith sputters, "Wha- Human Raven, how did you know it was me?" Gilith makes his way over to the chair that held Human Raven in a twisted knot that, when Human Raven stood up, would surely leave a horrifying crunch Human Alex had likened to a human candy that exploded in one's mouth.

"You've got some loud stompers, Lithy."

"I do not know what that means, Human Raven."

Raven stands, causing Gilith to flinch at many snaps and crackles of their bones settling into place, and smiles up at his towering form.

"What did you need?"

Gilith notices more and more Human Raven's greetings. He thought maybe they could hear him coming, but they greeted him while wearing ear speakers, the volume so loud, Gilith could hear it from a few feet away.

Humans did not have psychic skills, and the only other human who seemed capable of a preemptive greeting was Human Alex. The two seemed to share all of their off-hours, so maybe that was where he could find his answers.

Gilith scoured the many gardens, stopping just outside of the doorway. He could hear Human Alex and Human Raven chattering to each other, but neither seemed to notice his presence.

In an attempt not to disturb them, he walked with what Human Bea had described as "tip-toes". A challenging feat, considering his round flat feet, but he managed.

Both Human Raven and Human Alex had their backs to him, so he coughed in the same way Human Bea often did to get everyone's attention.

The reaction he got was unexpected when both Human Raven and Human Alex flinched so hard their shoulders seemed to lock.

"My apologies! I didn't mean to startle you," he rushed over, but stopped short when they both flinched again. He recoiled his hand.

"It's ok, Lithy," Raven says, voice slightly choked. "Just give us a sec."

"Oh. Okay." Gilith turned his eyes down.

"What-" Alex started, his voice sounding as though it was rubbed raw. He cleared his throat and tried again. "What can we do for you, Gilith?"

"I did not have anything specific to talk to you about. I wanted to..." he trails off. "I wanted to inform you of the new plants we are picking up at the next trade planet."

Gilith feels his face twist with the lie, but now didn't seem like a good time to ask.

His desire to understand, however, doesn't fade after the incident. It only makes his hunger grow.

Instead of bothering Human Alex or Human Raven, Gilith decides to ask Human Bea, who does not sense him before he greets her.

"Hello, Human Bea."

"Yes, hello, Gilith. Is everything okay?"

"I have question."

Bea tilts her head. "Ask away."

"Are you- humans- able to detect someone before you see them?"

Bea's face softens into an aching sort of frown. "Not naturally."

"What do you mean?"

She takes a breath, seemingly preparing herself. "Well, most people are able to live in a relatively safe place. But some people aren't as lucky. Some people have to memorize the falls of others' feet. It's a learned survival tactic."

"I don't understand," Gilith says, his face wrinkling in confusion.

"Some people aren't safe, so for the ones who weren't born with the good luck of a safe home, they have to know who and where someone is. They have to know if they need to hide or prepare themself. They have to know if they're in danger or not."

Gilith feels his whole body go slack as a wave of sadness washes over him at the memory of Human Raven and Human Alex's reaction to his sudden appearance.

"I have loud stompers."

Bea's face scrunches up as though she's trying not to laugh. "You do. You have safe stompers, too."

#humans are weird #humans are space australians #earth is space australia #humans are space orcs #poor gilith hes just a skrunkily little guy #his skin is a kinesthetic mood ring lmao #space orcs

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yyoraely · 9 months

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★:sleeping in class, but you sat beside the housewardens — your boyfriend.

☆: HCS + FLUFF + SMALL BITS OF CRACK

. . . established relationship

★: r. rosehearts, l. kingscholar, a. ashengrotto, k. al-asim, v. schoenheit, i. shroud, m. draconia x gn!reader

☆: honestly bro this is a work ive written w/ the most number of characters

R. ROSEHEARTS

Did you really just think that you could get away with sleeping in class when Riddle is beside you? Think again. He’d shake you by your shoulder or poke you at your sides so that you’d wake up.

If you do complain about how boring Trein’s lessons are, Riddle would be baffled and lecture you about how important Trein’s lessons are to magic, whether you have magic or not.

Riddle is in denial once he realizes that his lover would be so against the idea in the importances of history in magic.

A poke at your side and a small grumble, you wake up to your boyfriend, Riddle, with a grumpy face on, poking your side until you wake up to his scolding.

“Regardless if you’d want good grades or not— you’ll be listening to Professor Trein’s lecture, either you’ll fail or pass, it won’t be my problem once you realize the importance of history.”

Once you get back to taking notes and listening, Riddle takes glances at you to make sure you aren’t dozing off again.

But back at Heartslabyul, he’ll confront you about what he was lecturing you about, and ask your reasons on why you’d doze off in class. Whether it’d be lack of sleep, overworking yourself, you have a small fever, you have a headache, or even if you just feel dizzy— he’ll do his best to make you feel better and rest, maybe with him telling Trey to make your favorite pastry, or if you don’t like pastries, he’ll get Trey to make or buy your favorite drink.

L. KINGSCHOLAR

He can relate to that problem. He can’t help himself by sleeping in class, so why else did you think he’d have someone tall sit in front of you both? To not cover him up sleeping?

Leona found himself get a little bit surprised when he saw you fall asleep before him during Trein’s class. He thought that you’d be the kind to stay awake to do his notes, but once he hears your reason, like if Crowley overworked you, or you overworked yourself, or maybe because you feel lightheaded or you didn’t eat breakfast, he won’t argue to that.

Speaking of falling asleep before him, Leona just joins you in on sleeping, probably with his arms crossed and his head down, he’ll somehow find a way to lean his body closer to yours, or atleast just have a body part of yours press against his. Like your thigh, your arm, maybe even your head.

“Tsk. This is borin’ me out. Hey, herbivo—“

Leona clicked his tongue, his arms crossed as he leaned his arms over the desk. He was about to ask if you would be able to stay up and do his notes like a good significant other, but no, you didn’t.

“Racin’ me to sleep, is that it?” With a grin, Leona put his head down on his arms on the desk; admiring your face for a moment before yawning and slowly scooting his spot closer to yours, just to bump his upper arm and head with yours.

Back at Savanaclaw, he’ll find ways to sneak in how “You’re starting to become lazy like him” once you talk about Trein’s lesson from earlier.

A. ASHENGROTTO

I’m gonna be honest here. Azul does NOT know what to do (at first). Let’s say that first, he’s thinking about letting you rest, since you’ve talked about your workload the other day, but he’s also thinking, if he does let you rest and you get caught, it’ll all be his fault!

Being a good boyfriend he is, he only lets you sleep for only a few more minutes, 5-10 minutes at best, then, he’ll wake you up so you don’t get caught by Trein. Azul will be very considerate, and calls this a “once-in-a-lifetime” chance where he lets you catch up with his notes.

Expect only a little scolding about you not being able to wait until Trein’s lesson ends so you can get a little nap, but he won’t push it too far to his scolding. Just a little strict reminder to get yourself some proper rest and not spend an entire night on a workload.

“My dearest (very sarcastic tone), do you thin—“

Azul checked his notebook, asking if you catched up on the last thing Trein said, before he saw your sleeping figure, head down on the desk. He couldn’t blame you for being you, being a sleepyhead and an overworker at the same time, Azul won’t push it to wake you up for now.

For a few minutes, that’s when Azul wakes you up with a gentle pat on your back, his voice in a whisper with his face a little too close to yours.

“Got some rest, sleepyhead?” He teased for only just a moment before shifting back to his chair and putting the half of his notebook beside you so you can copy his notes.

“Make sure you catch up, alright? I can’t have you flunking.” If you looked closely, there was a little grin on his face due to his successful attempt to wake you up.

K. AL-ASIM

Kalim, being a very nice man but also somewhat clueless, whispers (not really) in your ear and shakes you awake like an earthquake was happening.

At this action of his, though, Trein thought he was chattering with you and immediately scolded Kalim for his lack of listening and talkativeness.

Once Trein slammed his hand on the desk, that’s only when you wake up, clueless and a bit scared to wake up to see Trein’s as usual strict face.

“This lesson is sooo boring.”

Kalim pouted, his cheek resting on his curled fingers into a soft ball of a fist.

“Hey, hey, [Name]—“

He slowly turned his head, just like the beam of sunshine he was, a grin plastered onto his face, but slowly faded into just a little smile.

“[Name]..?” Kalim panicked, for an honest moment, he thought that you fainted or died (LMAOOO). With two hands on your shoulder, he shaked you awake, a sheepish expression on his face. “[Name], wake up!”

V. SCHOENHEIT

Did you really think Vil would let you rest your head down on the dirty desk? Don’t be so clueless. Vil, being your boyfriend, he only wants the best for you, and he doesn’t want any trouble with you being overworked, then attending class the next day.

He is aware of you being a sleepyhead, but he’s dissatisfied by the fact that you’d prefer to lay your head on the dirty desk, rather than his shoulder.

Slowly, Vil would lift your head from the desk and lean it against his shoulder instead. If Trein catches you? Don’t worry! Vil would defend you by saying you were overworked and you couldn’t sleep well, and if that doesn’t buy out, he’ll resort to more creative plans.

“Huh… so that’s how it was explained.”

Vil mumbled to himself, taking down a note before glancing at you to check if you were okay— if you could catch up on the notes.

Once he took a glance at your slumbering state, he smiled softly to himself before putting a hand under your head to place on his shoulder.

Vil got all the more focused on notes so once you’d wake up, he’ll let you copy or review the notes you’ve missed while you slept.

Back at Pomefiore, he will urge you to rest more whilst he might do a livestream or catch up on his notes while watching over you the same time.

I. SHROUD

Just like Leona, Idia can relate, but not in the tired kind of way. He relates in the more “bored” way where he really just wants to go back to his dorm and play games while you rest beside him, on him, or even with him.

Idia is a firm believer of that students should rest after doing something tiring and not attend classes, just because he’s defending his lover.

He doesn’t put his efforts in waking you up since he knows you need to rest, but was kinda upset you didn’t fall asleep on his shoulder like in the animes he watched :(

Idia, being quiet, was resting his chin on his palm, elbow propped onto the desk. He glanced at you, his lover, for only a short moment and went back to the lesson. He turns his head back again to make sure, just to realize you fell asleep in class.

He mumbled a little comment about you being cute or about you being a sleepyhead before slowly rubbing his fingertips along your scalp very gently so you could rest some more.

Idia isn’t very used to waking someone up, so if you manage to sleep till the end of class, he’ll only whisper a few mentions of “wake up”s and your name.

M. DRACONIA

Malleus is okay with letting you rest in class, especially if you’re a sleepyhead, or if you feel sick, or maybe even after pulling an all-nighter after a workload, but he also fears that you might flunk and not catch up on the lesson, so he does his best to wake you up.

He tries to be as gentle as possible with how he wakes you up, especially with his voice, but no, bro wakes you up like quandale dingle.

Malleus attempts his most quietest, gentlest, and sweetest voice, but oh, he couldn’t. He isn’t used to attempt in soft voices, but for you, his lover, he always tries his best, whether it’s his not very good talents to some attempts in his smiling or habits, he’ll always do his best, just for his lover.

“Child of man.”

With a hand on your shoulder and a small grin on Malleus’ face, he watched as you jolt awake by his voice. He got worried for a second that his voice surprised you too much to make you scared or something, but then again, that was just how he was.

“I believe it is time for you to wake up. You may not be able to catch up on the lessons if you keep on your slumbering.”

Malleus admired your face as you sat up and shifted whilst you rubbed your eyes. He adored the sight of his sleepy lover, but for some reason, he doesn’t get why he loves that sight of you so much.

“But you may rest in Diasomnia once this class is over. I will get Lilia to excuse you in class.”

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bippiti · 2 months

Text

catalyst clc16 x rockstar! reader

after the release of your new album, life has been hectic as you've been running around doing shows. only problem is you seem to have only one person on your mind. little do you know he's having the same issue

an part two! any feedback is appreciated and please like + rb!

if you want a visual guide for the band .

part one next part

tags @bloodyymaryyy @guiseppetsunoda @maxverstappendefender @charizznorizz

yourig

liked by king, charles_leclerc and 42,836,364 others

yourig thanks for coming out london! nyc see you soon x

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user ughh i wish i couldve come :((

yourig next time lovee💜

user sounded so good

user anyone else gonna talk about the album afterparty???

user who cares bro😭 theyre adults and tbh they would be a power couple

user right?! ive been thinking the same thing, shes not a good influence on him

user im sorry do yk y/n??? how would u know that lmfao

king looking good!

liked by yourig

user where is the fit from???

user i think vivienne westwood!

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you sighed, scrolling through your comments. it had been almost a month after your albums release, and some people still were bringing up the hug with charles. i mean, seriously it was just a hug. it wasn't like you guys had made out or anything.

both your label and ferrari were sponsored by celsius, and your management had met with one of ferraris pr heads. they had agreed to work together to promote the new album, and had picked charles because he was a fan of your music.

you clicked instantly on the first day of set, but it also helped that you spoke fluent french (you had an obsession with indila when you were younger and forced yourself to learn it) the lack of a language barrier, coupled with the fact that you guys had similar interests made it inevitable that you both would become friends.

after the album launch party, you were exhausted. you had woken up at 4am for promo shoots, and had been running around all day before singing your whole album (which was around an hour long) to the attendees. it was fun, and you wouldnt trade your career for the whole world, but man you were tired.

as you were heading out, you spotted charles and you both stopped to talk

"tu as bien fait là-dedans" he said, smiling as he pushed his hands into his pockets (you did good in there)

"merci! les heures de pratique m’ont aidé. je pense que je pourrais oublier les paroles si j’essayais" you smile as he laughed (thanks! the hours of practice helped. i dont think i could forget the lyrics if i tried)

"en pratiquant son art on devient artisan" (practice makes perfect)

you nod, turning as you hear your bandmate siobahn call for you

you look back to him, saying your goodbyes and quickly hugging him before running after her.

that was it. just a friendly hug. it's not like he liked you, and if he knew you liked him, you doubt he would still be friends with you.

charles_leclerc

liked by yourig, pierregasly and 305,387 others

charles_leclerc i won. maybe next time @/pierregasly 😘

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user just realized pierre had a chance to fork the king and the rook in

user not y/n liking this...

user so cute😍

pierregasly i almost had it

charles_leclerc of course you did

user my fav french men

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after having checkmate charles sat back, smiling smugly as he looked at pierre try and fail to make a move. giving up, he raised his hands in defeat.

"quand vais-je jamais te battre?" he said sighing as he chuckled (when will i ever beat you)

"peut-être dans une autre vie" (maybe in another life)

scoffing, pierre changed the subject.

"so i heard you're with some rockstar these days"

"i most definitley am not"

"sure, sure. you might not be dating her but i can tell you like her"

charles paused, having a mini crisis. ok. so maybe he did like you. he couldn't help it, honestly. throughout filming ,and even after he had grown to really admire you. not only just as an artist, but as a person as well. he honestly hoped you'd be able to meet up afterwards, but he hasnt been able to see you since. between his preseason training and your concerts, you both are rarely free, let alone in the same country.

he told all of this to pierre, who listened quietly, nodding along before telling him his masterplan. he was gonna help him out, what kindve friend would he be if he didnt?

hearing the notification sound go off on your phone, you picked it up. your eyebrows raised as you read it

part 3??

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #scudia ferrari #charles leclerc x yn #f1 x reader #f1 smau #charles leclerc smau #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic

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moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

happy new year lovie!!!! i feel bad for requesting this bc just thinking ab the volume of ur inbox is a little overwhelming and ive gone a bit overboard 😭

but..... bodyguard!james finds out his mum is quite sick right before his shift one day and leaves to take care of her after letting reader know. he has to take the week off and reader is visiting and bringing them their favorite homecooked meals everyday (which she has memorised bc, bless him, james loves to talk abt his mum) and james is LOVEEESTRUCK. she's there, bright and early every morning (with a different bodyguard bc god forbid she leaves the house with no protection right in front of james' own two eyes!!!) with muffins and flowers and bags of food in hand :( james is enamored and so sweet on her!!!!! and reader is obsessing over how vulnerable and emotionally in tune james is at a time like this!!!!! i'm thinking maybe confessions are getting pretty hard to hold back by the end of the week ☹️🩷

thank you! (if you do decide to write this or if you dont for letting me ramble on in your asks x)

Don't feel bad my love! Thank you for requesting :)

cw: sick family member

bodyguard!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

No matter how many times James has visited home throughout his adult life, he always manages to discover something he’s forgotten about living there. Like how particular his mum is about the way the dish towel is folded, or which drawer the scissors are kept in, or the ungodly amount of door-to-door salesmen that come by on a daily basis.

Lately, he’s being plagued by the last. He recalls them being vaguely annoying when he was younger, but James’ family is currently going through a difficult time that leaves one with somewhat frayed nerves. He very nearly snapped at a particularly tenacious primary school student selling chocolate yesterday. Not one of his finer moments.

So when the doorbell rings while his mum is trying to sleep down the hall, James has to make an effort to reel his wrath back in before he’s even answered it.

Funnily enough, any negative emotion completely evaporates when he sees you on the front steps.

“Hi,” you say, looking apprehensive.

“Hi,” James echoes. He opens the door the rest of the way, nodding to the fill-in guard you’ve brought with you. “Hey, Singh.”

Singh nods in return.

“I hope it’s alright that I just came by.” You give him a sheepish sort of smile. “I didn’t even realize I don’t have your phone number until now. You’re always just…there.”

James laughs, the mood that’s descended over him since getting the call about his mum lifting slightly. “Yeah, I suppose I am. What brings you out, sweetheart?”

You hoist the bags you’re carrying a bit higher in your arms. “I brought some stuff for you and your mom, if that’s okay.”

A tiny hand fists around his heart, squeezing pleasantly. “Course it is,” he all but coos. “Come on in. Singh, you alright to stay here and keep watch?”

Luckily, the other man doesn’t think to remember that James is currently on leave, and so defers to him with a curt nod. James shoots him a smile as you come inside, closing the door behind you.

“They put Singh on day shift?” he asks, taking one of the bags from you and leading you into the kitchen. “He’s barely finished training.”

“He seems fine,” you say in your good-natured way.

“He took you to a location that’s never been reconned without even bringing another guard to post outside.”

“It’s your mom’s house, Jamie.” The smile is evident in your voice, sweeter even than the smell wafting out of these bags. God, he’s missed you. “I doubt he suspects either of you are going to try and hurt me.”

“He should be prepared for the possibility,” James says, but he can’t manage to work any menace into his tone even to tease you. You tilt your head at him, mouth curving up to one side like you’re well acquainted with his particular brand of silliness, and he lets his grievances go instantly. “You didn’t have to bring us anything, angel face.”

You flush a bit at the endearment, directing a soft smile down at his family’s old wooden table (which is great, because now James is in the position of being jealous of a table). “I wanted to do something,” you reply simply. “How’s your mom?”

“She’s alright.” Not great. Not worse, which is always good. If the only thing he accomplishes in a day is that she doesn’t get worse, James can feel good about that. “She’s sleeping in this morning.”

“Oh, shit.” Your voice drops to a hush like the breeze blowing through leaves. “I haven’t woken her, have I?”

James grins. “No, you’re good. She can sleep through anything.”

You lose a breath. “Right, well I brought some meals to last you a few days,” you say, digging some containers out of the bag. “It can all be heated up whenever you’re ready to eat, and—oh, also some flowers. I know it’s stupid, but I thought they might brighten things up for you two.” James doesn’t think it’s stupid at all, but you go on before he can tell you so. “Can I put these in your freezer? I brought some muffins for this morning too, if you want them.”

“Yeah,” James says, the word leaving him on a breath. “I mean, yeah to both. Thank you.” He grabs several of the containers as well, showing you to the freezer. You both start cramming them in between things, wherever they’ll fit. He takes note of the food as it goes in, a heady warmth growing in his chest. “Did you make all of this?”

You hum in brisk affirmation. “I had plenty of time on my hands yesterday. Turns out things are pretty boring without you around.”

“How’d you know what to make? This is all—these are our favorites.”

You turn to him, a tenderhearted sort of smile curving your lips. “You talk about your mom a lot, Jamie,” you say. “I know all her favorites by now. And the things she’d make that were your favorites, too.”

James hadn’t realized he’d spent so much time rambling about his mum. It hurts his chest a bit to think of it now, worse to think that you’d been listening so intently.

“This is only really enough to get you through a few days,” you go on, oblivious to his yearning, “but I figured I’d come back with more if you’re both alright with it.” You look at him as you pack the last of the food away, your gaze careful. “I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“You could never intrude.” James isn’t sure how he gets the words out, his heart ballooning until it’s nearly cutting off his airflow. The cool air breezing onto one side of his face stops, and he realizes you’ve shut the freezer. “This is just…so, so kind of you. I don’t know what to say.”

“James.” Your voice is soft. Your smile has faded, and now you look at him with an unabashed, steady kindness. “You don’t have to say anything. I can’t stand the thought of you and your mom going through this. I wanted to help, somehow.” One of your shoulders comes up in a sheepish half-shrug. “Even if it’s really small.”

He wraps his arms around your shoulders, and you hesitate only a second before bringing your arms around him too. You squeeze him tight. James lets himself relish the feel of it, lovelorn. “It’s not small,” he says fervently. “It really…it means a lot, sweetheart.”

You only squeeze tighter in response. When he lets you go, your gaze is sad. Worried. You ask without prelude, “Are you doing okay?”

James gives you a half-smile. The truth of it. “Yeah, we’re alright over here. It’s hard to see her like this, but I think everything’s going to be okay.” You nod, solemn in your understanding. “Sounds like I might be doing better than you, actually, if your company’s bad enough that you’re entertaining yourself in the kitchen all day.”

You crack a smile at that, and James’ heart lightens. “Yeah, Singh’s no you. He doesn’t seem to like to chat.”

“Ahh, so that’s why you’ve really come out here, yeah? You just missed me.”

“You’ve caught me.”

It’s said like a joke, but James’ pride inflates foolishly nonetheless. “I hate that I can’t be there,” he says. “Especially now that I know they’ve put Singh on my shift.”

“He’s not so bad,” you laugh, heading towards the table. You fold up the bags. “Anyway, it’s more important that you’re here. And I’ll be back in a couple days to restock you.”

James fixes you with a look as you start for the door. “You really don’t have to.”

“I’m going to,” you say breezily. “Don’t forget to put the flowers in water, and the muffins are strawberry chocolate chip.” He grins. His mum’s favorite. “I’ll tell Singh you were raving about him.”

“Oh, please do.” He rolls his eyes, feeling lighter than he has in days. “Thanks, angel.”

You shoot him a smile worthy of the moniker as you go out the door. “See you in a couple days, Jamie.”

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redstarwriting · 10 months

Text

his girl | iv. what can make me feel this way?

earth 42!miles morales x fem!reader | miles morales x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: language, spoilers (!), probably bad spanish, mentions of stab wounds, mentions of death, Miles negatively talking about himself

a/n: ok so sorry about the wait on this chapter, i was really in a drawing mood and was hyperfixating on it and couldn’t do anything until i finished my hobie drawing and my new avi, but here she is, chapter 4. i hope y’all enjoy! it’s gonna get wild around chapter 7 so 👀 enjoy it while it’s calm(ish) lmao

his girl masterlist

previous chapter: iii. all the riches

now reading: iv. what can make me feel this way?

next chapter: v. a sweeter song

───────────────────────────────

Miles really doesn’t know what he did to end up in this situation. Talking to you, but not his you, about why his you hates him now. He walks away from your side, walking over to the wall and making that his seat. He leans against it, and then pulls his other leg up, just chilling like a spider does. You make a ‘huh’ noise, and he swears he hears you whisper ‘So that’s why he calls himself Spider-Man.’

“Ah… well, to make it a long story short, I’m stupid,” he says, and you smile softly. “That tracks. Dumbest genius I’ve ever met,” you say, and he scoffs. “Good to know I’m like that in every universe.”

“Maybe not every universe, but in the ones that matter. I’m only into idiot geniuses,” you say, and he smiles a bit. “Yeah. Well. You’re not into this one, I can promise you that much,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “I probably am. What did you do this time, dummy?”

“I… wouldn’t stop comparing you to another girl…” he mumbles, and you scrunch your nose. “Ew, Miles, what the hell?” you say, and he sighs. “I know, I know. It’s stupid, I’m stupid, I know. I just…”

“Do you like her or something?” you ask, and Miles groans. “Yeah, I did. A lot, actually, but… it didn’t work out,” he mumbles, and you raise your eyebrow. “Okay… well when you say compare…” He sighs, putting his head in his hands. “Everything, man. I would compare everything. At the time I didn’t see anything wrong with it, but now…”

“Yeah. That’s not a good move, Miles. Especially because I can almost guarantee I like you,” you say, and he shakes his head. Even if his universes you did like him, he ruined that. The way you walked away from him is still burned in his mind. The small, defeated voice you would use when you would tell him to stop talking to you when he was trying. The way you stopped showing up to classes, and how he barely was seeing you at all. And when he did, he could tell something was seriously wrong, but you would ignore him every time. He missed you. He missed you even more now that you were in front of him, and it wasn’t you. “Yeah… well, not anymore you don’t.”

“Do… you like me? Like, you called me hot down there, thank you, by the way, but do you actually have a romantic attraction to me?” you ask, and Miles hesitates. He never really thought of you in that way, per se, but this last month has been hell. Actually awful. He can talk to Ganke about anything, and he does, but Ganke just… Ganke isn’t you. He thought it was just because he was missing his absolute best friend in the entire world, but honestly? It might have been deeper than that.

It is deeper than that.

“If you have to think about it for that long, I’m gonna take it as a yes,” you say, and he glances over at you. “Yeah… I guess so. I didn’t realize I liked you like that until–”

“Until just now?” you ask, and he nods. “You really are the most oblivious person in the world, Milesy,” you mumble, and he sighs. “Yeah, yeah…”

“Your mamá didn’t catch on?”

“I’m sure she did, but… she didn’t say anything,” he says, and you frown. “That’s weird… Ms. Morales notices everything and always tells you in this universe…” Miles shrugs. “Guess she’s a little different on my world then,” he says and looks down at the floor. Honeetsly, his mom probably does know. That’s why she would give him sympathetic smiles when he would talk about you, and always encourage him to try and talk to you after giving you some space. What he wouldn’t give to be with his mom right now. And his dad. Both of them. “Hey, (Y/n/n), I haven’t heard any of you mention my dad at all,” he says, looking over at you again. You frown. “Well, uh…”

“Is he… on this world is he…” he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence, but you understand. You nod. “He is… I’m so sorry, mi amor,” you mutter, and Miles’ heart flips for more than one reason. “I’m not your Miles,” he says, and you give him a small smile. “Yes, you are. The two of you are more alike than you think,” you say softly, and he lets out a little laugh. “Yeah? How?”

“Well, for one thee both of you would do anything to protect the ones you love and care about,” you say, motioning towards your broken body. “Anyone would do that,” he says, and you shake your head. “Not here, Miles. That’s rare in a place like this,” you say, and he frowns. “What is with this place anyways? Why is New York like… destroyed?” he asks, and you frown. “The Sinister Six Cartel took over everything after your dad passed. He was the last hope the city had to retaining any kind of normalcy. And the Cartel knew that… so, they targeted your mamá,” you say, causing Miles to snap his head in your direction, “Of course, Mr. Morales ran to help her. And he did, he saved her, but… he lost his life in the process” Miles’ eyes are wide as he hears you tell an abridged version of the story. “Was he the captain?”

“Yes, he was. It was the day he was sworn in, actually. He was the only officer in the city to have the cajones to stand up against the Cartel. So, they got him out of the way. And then the police force was corrupted, and everything went to shit,” you explain, and Miles stares ahead.

A canon event.

He was supposed to be Spider-Man on this world. And he’s still going through the events that all Spider-People go through. If the spider was supposed to bite this Miles, does that mean that before the spider, he was destined to become the Prowler? Would he still lose his dad even if he didn’t have these powers? Because this Miles did. You notice he’s gone quiet. “What’s that big brain of yours overthinking now?” you ask, and he looks at you. “I’m gonna need you to stop knowing everything about me, (Y/n),” he jokes, and you giggle. “Impossible.”

“It’s not important what I’m thinking about right now. How are you feeling?”

“It is important, but fine. Honestly, I’m not feeling great. But talking to you is definitely keeping my mind off of… things,” you say, glancing at thee knife sticking out of you before looking back at him. “Tell me more about myself. About how we’re alike,” Miles says, and you smile. “An excuse to talk about you? Say less.” Miles smiles, but it slightly wavers when he realizes that he could have had this. And if he just wasn’t a fucking idiot… he might have this. “You’re both strong. Stronger than anyone could imagine, and I’m not just talking about physical strength. You both can handle anything thrown at you emotionally… and yet somehow, you’re both idiots when it comes to your feelings. It took my Miles a near-death experience to confess to me. Said that while he was lying on the hospital bed the only thing that was keeping him on this world was me. That’s when he realized he loved me. Even after Ms. Morales told him that he did. I’m assuming you don’t listen to your mamá, either?” you tease, and Miles rolls his eyes. “I do! I do… for the most part.” He side-eyes you as you finish the sentence with him. “Always for the most part when it comes to listening to the women in your life,” you joke, and he rolls his eyes. “Alright, fine. I could listen to her a little more.”

“A little more? You’re a lost cause,” you tease, and he shakes his head. “How is she…? On this world, without my dad…?” Miles asks, and you give him a sad smile. “She manages. It’s hard. She works overtime at the hospital to provide for my Miles. And it’s still barely enough.”

“Wait, is it safe for her to work there? I mean with it being under this Cartel and all?”

“It’s fine. They think have some kind of moronic claim over her knowing that they killed your father. They use her as an example and look down on her, but they think that your dad was the outspoken one about them. If only they knew…” you mumble, shaking your head, and Miles laughs. “I can’t see her staying quiet about something like this unless she had to,” he admits, and you nod. “She doesn’t. Unless she has to. Which she has to a lot now to protect you,” you say, and Miles shakes his head. “They don’t know I’m the Prowler?”

“No. They don’t. I’m sure they have suspicions since you’re seen with your Tío all the time, but they don’t necessarily believe a 15-year-old would do the things you do. Besides, you mainly work with them instead of against them. Not by choice, if you had a choice you’d fight back,” you say, causing Miles to shake his head. “There’s always a choice. Especially when it comes to this. No one should tell you how to live your life or how it’s supposed to go,” he says, thinking back to the fight he just had with Miguel. Seems there are people here trying to tell other him how to live his life and telling him exactly how it should be, too. ‘Is everyone telling me how to live another one of your stupid canon events, Miguel?’ he thinks to himself. “I agree with you, but… he’s doing his best,” you say, and Miles nods. “Have I ever mentioned anything about fighting back?”

“To me, yes. All the time. But never to your Tío. He wouldn’t get it. Wouldn’t agree on it. So, he does what he can,” you say, “He just doesn’t need someone so close to him telling him his ideas and what he does is screwing everything up.” Miles nods. “I know that feeling,” he says. “That’s another similarity. You both are underestimated by everyone else,” you say.

Miles feels his chest tighten up. You’ve said that to him so many times in his world. After losing the science fair in 7th grade, after how he was feeling right after he first transferred to Visions, after he told you he was Spider-Man, and how he almost wasn’t good enough to be called Spider-Man by other Spider-People. So many times, you were there to reassure him he was enough, and that it was three other people underestimating him in the wrong. “How did I not notice this before?” he asks aloud, and you smile softly. “There’s another similarity. Heard you say that so many times,” you say, and he sighs. “I need to get home,” he mutters, and you nod. “I agree. You shouldn’t be stuck here like this. Especially if I’m waiting for you over there.”

“Not only that, but my dad is about to die in three days. And I have this really difficult villain I have to beat because he’s gonna try to take away everything I care about, and instead, I’m stuck here. I mean don’t get me wrong, it’s nice talking to you, it always is, and I’m really happy I was here to help myself save you, but I need to be home. I can’t let my dad die knowing I could do something to stop it,” he says, and you nod. “I’ll convince him. Don’t worry, Miles can and will help you. But… how do you know your dad is about to die?”

“It’s… it’s a Spider-Man thing. Apparently. Dad’s gonna be captain in three days and… dad’s gonna die in three days,” he mutters, and you raise your eyebrow. “Sounds like Miles was supposed to be like you, then,” you say. You’re so smart. Took the words right out of Miles’ mouth. “I know. Could have prevented him a lot of pain,” he mumbles, and you shake your head. “Do not blame yourself for getting bitten by a spider, Miles, you couldn’t control that,” you say, and he shrugs. “Still. Took his whole life away from him.”

“And what would that have given you?”

Miles looks at you, and you cock your head to the side. “If you never got bit, what would that mean for you?” “Well… it would probably mean that you and I still talked. And that Uncle Aaron would still be alive,” he says, and your eyes widen. “Your Tío died?”

“Yeah. He died… protecting me,” he mutters, “of course, he did try to kill me until he knew it was me, and then Kingpin shot him. And killed him. In front of me.” You stare at him with wide eyes. “Miles, mi sol, I am so sorry,” you say, and he shakes his head. “It… it's not fine, but it is. It has to be. He was the Prowler, so… guess it was better for him to find out then instead of later on down the line after he would have tried to kill me even more times.” He frowns. This is really weird. This Miles still has Aaron, and he still has his dad… but Miles is about to lose his dad, so… does that mean this Miles is about to lose Aaron? He hopes not. This universe shit is confusing. “Always trying to find the positive, I see,” you mutter, “the two of you really are the same.”

“That guy tries to find the positive in situations?” Miles asks, in a little bit of disbelief. You laugh. “Sí, it’s why I call him mi sol,” you say. “And I take it you have a tendency to be negative like my (Y/n)?” he asks, and you huff. “I’m not negative–”

“I’m realistic,” Miles finishes your sentence with a smile. “Well, I am!” you exclaim, causing him to laugh. “I know, and I’m not just saying I know because you’ll get mad at me if I don’t,” he teases, and you throw the pillow your head is on at him. He catches it with ease, laughing. “Damn, pissed you off enough for you to try to assault me, huh?” he jokes, hopping off the wall and walking over to you. He gently lifts the top of your body up, placing the pillow underneath of your head. He helps you lay back down, and you place your hand over top of his. “I definitely like you, Miles. It’s hard not to.”

He smiles slightly. “Thanks, (Y/n/n),” he whispers. You pat his hand before he pulls away from you. “Do you think you’ll accept my apology?” he asks, and you nod. “I’d do anything if it was for you,” you say. Miles feels his heart skip a beat. He knows you feel the same way about him as this world’s (Y/n) does. Or he at least as to believe you do. For his sake. He just needs to get his head out of his ass and apologize before it’s too late. Hopefully, it isn’t too late, yet. “I’m… I’m so sorry,” he admits to you, and you give him a sincere grin. “Save your apologies for your (Y/n), Miles. And tell her you saved her life. Again,” you say, and he nods.

At that moment, other Miles comes through the window, his mask coming off as he walks over to you, completely ignoring Miles. “Rude,” he mutters under his breath, as Aaron follows Miles inside. But at the same time, he gets it. He’d do the same if you were hurt like this. “How do you feel, baby?” he asks, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Trying not to panic because there’s metal in my arm but other than that, okay, I guess,” you say, “Miles was keeping me distracted from it.”

42 Miles looks at him, giving him a nod. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem.”

“Oh, one more thing, Miles,” you say, and they both look at you. You smile at him, leaning up and placing a little kiss on his nose.

“You’re helping him get home.”

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『 his girl tag list 』

@agustdeeyaa @akemiixx01 @angeli-fucking-cat @dani111* @darlingdontwe @duckyduck25* @eitaababe @fiannee @gwennesy @hana-1235 @hana-yuri @imaginarydreams @inluvwithneteyam @jonathanthor @kaaylvst @kdbsr-h* @kezibear @kikookii @kingsmanperfecthartwin @korehiiime @laurszd @laylasbunbunny @lazyotakuofficial @mama-2001 @miggyoharaswife @mividaasi @nightshxdex @notplutos* @papichulo120627 @po55um @ptsmplekaramele @realityshifter111 @rksses @silly-norman @simp4miguell @shoyofroyoyoyo @snixx2088 @soy-garbage @sp1derm4nluver @staravity @storm-enika* @tanchosanke @tenaciousduckpoetry @thatonehjpstan @unforgettble420 @violettathewriter @whoisgami @yasfrommiles @yourfavstalker25789* @zenxvii

『 itsv/atsv tag list 』

@1eonk @autismnation @briannaxox* @februarybluues @fennecspage* @hearts4hobie @kitsunna4 @parkerpresentz @smuuchies* @soseoulol @stoic0utlaws @tes-conscience* @zombie-catz

*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue

if you wish to be on either tag list, reach out and let me know! thank you to everyone for the support!🖤

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#miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #earth 42 miles morales x reader #prowler miles x reader #spiderman x reader #spider-man x reader #spiderverse x reader #atsv x reader #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales #spiderverse #atsv

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delimeats-000 · 6 months

Note

HANDS OBSESSED READER WITH CHRIS ‼️ like shes always caught looking at his hands, messing with them, etc. and chris finally does something abt it 😼

YESSS, ofc. hope you like it!

Hands

summary: chris makes your dreams, of his hands, a reality

warnings: smut, language

pairing: chris sturniolo x reader

key: chris - y/n

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“fuck chris keep going. chris im gonna-“

“Y/n?”

chris’ voice snaps me out of the trance that only his hands can put me in. fuck, those hands, what i wouldn’t give to have them wrapped around-

“Y/n? Hellooo?”

fuck.

“Yeah?”

“Did you hear me?”

“No.” i say smiling.

“I asked if you’ve seen this movie before.”

“No, looks good tho.”

“It is, imma put it on.”

“Sounds good.”

his eyes focus back on the tv, mine move back to his hands.

his big, veiny, strong, rough-

“Ok, whats up?”

“Huh?”

“You keep spacin out.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Yeah.” he nods his head, “Why?”

i dont know if i should tell him. if i do maybe he’ll finally use them on me.

“My hands?”

fuck i didn’t even realize i was staring again.

“I- well yeah. But not-” his finger lands underneath my chin lifting up my head to face him.

“What were you thinking I do with these hands?”

“I don’t- I dont know.” i didn’t know what to say.

“How bout, I give you some options?” he says slowly with a slight smile.

i nod my head.

his right hand remains on my chin, while his left lands on my waist rubbing back and forth.

“Does that jog your memory?”

“No, I think you should keep trying.”

“What about this.” his right hand moves toward the nape of my neck and pulls me closer.

him and i nearly inches apart. my breath hitches and i try not to look in his hunger glazed eyes, he scoffs at me.

“Aww, poor baby. It’s ok, we’re gonna make your day dreams come true.” his hand moves to my face once more, this time resting on my cheek as he leans in and kisses me softly.

his left hand moving further down my back reaching to my ass then the back of my thighs then he stops.

“How am I doing, baby?”

“Good, great. Consider my memory jogged.”

he kisses down my neck then stops suddenly.

“Oh yeah? I’ll just stop then.”

“No no no, please.”

“Please what baby?”

“Please keep going.”

“Ok.” he shrugs.

his hands lay in the same places, but he slowly moves down, positioning them to lift me up and into his lap.

i breathe in sharply and i can feel my eyes widen with every small movement. as soon as he noticed he begins grinding his hips against me. placing his lips on mine rough, and starving.

he flips me onto my back getting on top, his left hand meets my throat.

“Can I keep going? I’ll make you feel good, promise.” he says leaning in towards me.

“Yes, fuck chris. Keep going.”

he kisses me again, one time before then untying my sweats and pulling them down toward my knees.

his right hand moves down my stomach and up again to massage my boobs before then going back down to reach my panties.

he moves further downward fingertips meeting my wet folds.

i shudder under the touch i’ve only ever dreamed of.

“You ok?”

“Yeah. Uh could you, could you just put them in me already.”

“Manners baby.” his voice lowers while his fingers rub my clit just barely. “Then, maybe ill finger fuck you. That’s what you’re focused on right?”

i let out a moan, more of a whimper really. “Chris, please. Stop teasing.”

he shoves his fingers inside of me abruptly. “Good manners.”

two of his fingers move in and out of me, curling with every send. he then rubs my clit with the pad of my while leaning over and kissing right on my pelvis

“Shit, Im really close, chris. Right there.”

“C’mon baby, cum on my fingers for me.”

“Fuck fuck, CHRIS.”

then i feel it. the knot in my lower stomach coming completely undone all over the hand ive fantasized about since the day i met chris.

he takes his fingers out bringing them to his lips and licking them clean off.

“Oh beautiful, you taste amazing.” he groans over the cream covering his long slender fingers. “So.” he stands up, lifting me to sit up and get comfortable.

“How was that, just like you imagined?”

“Better.”

“Good. Let’s watch my movie now.”

“No no. It’s your turn now.” i say pulling up my pants and getting on my knees.

he sits down on the bed where i was. “Oh, yes please.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

pt. 2??? lmk, love you🫶🏼

edit: pt. 2 out now

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #requests are open #new writers on tumblr #reader insert #fanfics #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris girls #sturniolo x reader #x reader #sturniolo smut #smut

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runningfrom2am · 5 months

Text

leveling the playing field IV

summary: you didn't meet the requirements for the plinth prize, only to find out that you're not just missing out on that- you're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime. your friend wants to help, because maybe you can help each other.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.5k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and discussion of abuse, so read with caution!!

masterlists // nav // requests

join my taglist here

a/n: im just hammering this out at this point-

next part

The following days were full of a new routine. Every morning, take pain medication for your now neverending migraine, gather food for Lucy Gray and the Snow's, check in with Jessup and redress his bite as best you can, go to the hospital and be denied visitation to Coryo, go to class, and then start the cycle again that afternoon. You were getting burnt out, and quickly- your parents were displeased that you weren't home as often. Their patience was wearing thin.

If you were honest with yourself, your patience was also wearing thin. You were catering to Lucy Gray, which of course you agreed to do, but in the case that she wins the games, the Plinth Prize would not be going to you. It would still go to Coriolanus- and he was in the hospital doing nothing but recovering. Which was good. You remind yourself several times a day that you are happy to help because at least he isn't dead.

The sun is setting when Coriolanus wakes up again, this time feeling less groggy. He's been in and out the last few days, most of it as a blur due to the pain medication that has been pumping into his system through an IV for the last few days. He does vaguely remember waking up to eat as much as he could stomach, talking to Clemensia, maybe, unless he was hallucinating, and telling a nurse to stop letting you in when he kept seeing covered plates and glass containers showing up with more food. It had to have been you, and while he was grateful for it, he loathed the idea of you pitying him.

Tigris and Sejanus were both present, now, and despite telling the staff to not let you in, he's more than a little disappointed you are not there. He furrows his brow, attempting to pull out the tube from his hand. "Hey, hey-" Tigris stops him, shaking her head out of confusion. "What are you doing?"

"I'm fine. I'm better." He insists, pushing her hand away.

"I need to go check on Lucy Gray..." He mumbles, shaking his head.

"Y/N is with her. She's fine." Sejanus tells him, standing by the end of the bed.

"Now? What time is it? How do you know?"

"Well, the interviews will start in an hour or so." His friend explains.

"An hour?" Coriolanus asks, now more frantically pulling out the tube with a hiss. He has to be there, he has to go introduce Lucy Gray. He didn't even consciously realize time was passing while he was there.

"No, Coryo, you can't go. Y/N can handle it." Tigris says, trying to calm him.

"Sejanus, are you going?" He asks, ignoring his cousin completely.

Sejanus looks down, shaking his head and twisting his fingers out of nervousness. "No, uh, Marcus escaped. He's gone."

Coriolanus was disappointed- he was hoping he would be able to hitch a ride with him. He'll have to run- though it isn't too far.

"Okay, well, I'm going." He insists, grabbing a pile of clean clothes that Tigris had brought for him the day previous.

Tigris gives up on trying to stop him, and Sejanus hasn't really attempted to. He knows that you would be happy to see him if he is feeling well enough to go. Watching you in class, constantly jittery and even a little pale, made it evident that you needed Coriolanus, or you were worried, at the very least.

Thankful for the morphing he still had in his bloodstream, he makes it to the studio in time for Lucy Gray's interview, even with a few minutes to spare. As soon as he sees you, he can tell that you've been struggling. The bags under your eyes couldn't be hidden by makeup, nor could your healing bruises from the bombing that were now turning a shade of green that would typically make him ill. Scattered as well among them were some darker ones, purple ones, around your elbow and on your wrist. Regardless, you're smiling- talking in a hushed tone to Lucy Gray.

You're opening your brother's guitar case, carefully lifting it out of the velvet that surrounded it when you see Coryo walking toward you, and you're immediately abandoning your effort to stand up and greet him. "Coryo? What are you doing here?" You ask, excitement fading into worry.

"I wouldn't miss it." He smiles politely, adjusting his cuffs.

You sigh, finding the effort to match his smile. "You made it." Lucy Gray grins at him, brushing over her face with a cloth you offered her, a small effort to clean up the dirt and grime that clung to her skin in the zoo.

"Well, I got her a guitar. It's my brothers." You quickly move on, already feeling comforted by his presence alone. You grab it, holding it out to him as Lucy digs into the makeup that you had brought for her to borrow, hoping to add some life back into her face.

He takes it, looking over the polished wood and the brand-new strings. "Thank you. And it's tuned? Working order?"

"Tip top shape." You promise with a nod. "I had it professionally looked over this morning."

"You're a dream." Coryo praises you, making you blush. "Thank you, Y/N. Truly."

"It's my job."

Lucy Gray did amazing in her performance- and everyone loved it. She received the most donations by a long shot, which will allow Coriolanus to help her in the arena. As much as he can without changing her abilities to defend herself or fight, anyway.

You had made it home shortly after, returning your brother's guitar and having a shower before practically crawling into bed. Finally, you feel like you may be able to get a good night's sleep. Coryo is home, and even though you have an early morning, you'll be able to relax enough to rest.

That is, until you hear something snapping against the window next to your bed. You try and ignore it, covering your ears with your pillow, but the tapping persists.

You flick on your lamp and hesitantly pull back the curtain, peeking out to track the source of the noise. It was only a moment before your eyes landed on Coryo, who waves when he can see you in the window. You rub your eyes, squinting from the light and sliding the window open.

"Coryo?" You ask, confused as to why he's here.

"Come down, bring your notebook." He whispers loud enough for you to hear, but his voice is still soft enough to not wake anyone else in your house. "And a coat, it's quite cold."

You sigh. "Okay. Give me two minutes." Apparently, rest isn't a part of your evening plans.

You follow alongside him all the way to the arena, already set up to host the Hunger Games in the morning.

"Woah..." You gasp, walking into the same clearing you had just days before, but now it looked like a whole new place. "Okay. This we can work with." You smile a little to yourself, not noticing Coryo training his eyes on you.

He watches as you walk ahead of him, immediately toward the center of the large room as you scribble in your notebook. You wanted to get down as many details as possible, every new pile of debris or hole that could offer a place of refuge for Lucy Gray. Coriolanus wants to focus on the task at hand, but this is the first time he's been around you without the prying eyes of classmates or adults in a long time. You were never alone, he almost always was outside of school.

Walking up next to you, the light from the moon hits your hair and the side of your face as you look around, hardly glancing at the book in your hand. "Are you..." He starts, being reminded of what he noticed on the walk over but wouldn't dare to mention.

"Hm?" You prompt him to continue, drawing your attention to the boy in front of you now and lifting your pen to your mouth, biting onto it while you shake out a cramp in your wrist.

"Are you wearing makeup?" He asks, leaning in slightly to get a closer look.

"Excuse me?" You laugh awkwardly after grabbing the pen once more, taking a small step back. "Certainly your grandmother taught you its unbecoming to ask a lady such a question."

He chuckles slightly, looking away from you. "Bold of you to assume I consider you a lady." He jokes.

You gasp in mock offense, playfully smacking his arm. "How dare you!" You can't help but laugh. Now you remember why you were friends. Or why you considered him a friend, and why he believed that he was merely tolerating you. In reality, he didn't have to bring you. He could have come on his own, but why should he when you would be willing to accompany him? You're known for your attitude, your brashness, and he admired your unwavering ambition- whatever you wanted you would get. Not just because of your family name, either. You were willing to work for it, to fight for it.

Coriolanus was walking a fine line between desiring your presence and his own indifference. Now, surpassing a mere tolerance of you, this change scared him. "I know what you look like, you know. It's the middle of the night, there was no use wasting our time with putting on makeup." He says, not wanting to let on his own intrigue on the topic.

"I would argue that you don't, not since we were fourteen, anyway." You reply, dipping your head to get back to your sketching. "It's more of a force of habit."

His closeness allows him to grab your chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently but firmly lifting your head back up to get a better look at you. Your eyes widen, your heartbeat increasing with a mix of fear and embarrassment.

His eyes bore into you, into every part of your face as if your skin would somehow tell him the full story. You can't bring yourself to speak, just waiting for him to find the answers he wanted.

"Is it your father?" He asks, looking into your eyes now, his grip loosening on your chin.

You take a quick step back. You were aware that he knew something, he was the only one who tended to stare too long at your skin wherever it was exposed ever since you were thirteen and he asked what happened when you came to school with a bruise on your cheek. Notably more so after your essay last year that rewarded you with only a B.

"I won't tell anyone." He says, and your own voice echoes in your mind after telling him the same thing just the other day at your house. "I would have by now if I was going to."

"Why do you care?" You bite back, defensiveness being your go to weapon in a war of self-preservation.

He wants to spit at you that he doesn't, but that's a lie he couldn't even dream of in this moment. You'd storm out, probably never talk to him again, and that idea hurt him. "I want to help you."

"Well, not much anyone can do now is there?" You reply, attempting to move on. "Let's look around." You try and change the subject, give yourself an outlet to walk away, but this doesn't work as Coryo is grabbing your wrist, stopping you from taking another step.

"You can help by ignoring it." You sigh, his blue eyes just staring as he scrambled to find the right thing to say. "By not treating me like I'm going to break at every turn. How does that sound?"

He opens his mouth to speak but he doesn't, slightly shaking his head. He wants to release his grip on your wrist, tense and tight with urgency, but how could he without giving you the idea he thinks he's hurting you? He slides his hand into yours, holding his breath. "I apologize. It's not what I intended."

Now it's your turn to be speechless, staring down at your hands locked together.

"I just wanted to keep you safe." He explains, dancing around the idea even in his own mind that maybe he cares for you more than he should. "After Arachne, and after Clemensia, and now the Ring twins and Felix still fighting in that hospital bed it's so obvious to me that we are far from safe in this. We always were."

Your brow furrows. "What happened to Clem?"

"Dr. Gaul..." He takes in a deep breath. "One of her experiments, Clemensia has been in the hospital for days and she has these scales growing all over her and I thought I watched her die and then you almost died and-"

"Hey, hey, woah-" You cut him off, stepping closer again and not daring to drop his hand as he begins to crumble in front of you. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

He just nods, attempting to swallow back the fear in his voice.

"Okay. So, we've made it this far. You'll get that prize, we'll move on. Next year it will be someone else's problem. You will be safe." You say, squeezing his hand gently. "We're almost done, just a few more days."

His mouth is dry, and despite his heart racing, he knows you are right. After tonight, you won't be face-to-face with the tributes again. Neither of you will be in harm's way anymore, at least, not due to the games. Life will return to normal for you, and he will claim the prize he is owed and his life will change for the better. You won't be bringing him food every day, and you won't both be stressing over how to best prepare Lucy Gray. The tightness in his chest returns as his thoughts devolve- will he miss you?

It catches you off guard when he pulls you into a hug. Tight, panicked, heavy under the weight of all the tragedy and grief the two of you walk around with day to day. There is no one who gets him quite like you do. This time, he rests his chin on your head as your arms wrap around his waist, hands overlapping on his back. No, it's not enough. He tilts his head down so he can feel the warmth of you on his cheek, holding you tight as he takes in the scent of your hair. It's not roses, not like his mother's powder or what's left of her clothes in the Snow apartment, it's fresh. The smell of whatever soap you use doesn't demand to be noticed and inhaled, it's mostly full of you. Raspberries. That's it- it's raspberries mixed with you.

"We're almost done..." You whisper again, gently rubbing his back now in reassurance. He wonders, could you not feel the weight of everything? Of both of your entire lives barreling toward you all at once? Of course not. You were Y/N Y/L/N, you could only feel the pain of others; altruism drips out of every ounce of your being despite your habit of lashing out. Of course, you couldn't see it. You only saw him right now. Not his fear of losing you.

taglist: @keziahcore, @kitscutie, @annaelise, @serrendiipty, @babyspice6, @fratboyharrysgf0201, @totallynotkaibiased, @stelleduarte, @klplynn, @secretsicanthideanymore, @bejeweledreverie, @gloryekaterina, @andrewgarfieldsbitch, @queenofspades6, @pixiepopz, @pepperonipastas, @ladybug0095, @lunamothwrites, @nhlfs, @sbrewer21, @mus-tbe-a-weasley, @splxtscreen, @unclecrunkle, @karmaswitch, @sunghoonsbakery, @coconut-dreamz, @nekee-lilac02, @ooooglymoooogly, @riddlerloveb0t, @lovedbalances, @notyourwildestdream, @snowlandson-top, @too-lit-for-fanfic, @utopiakys, @@deafeningballoonnacho, @darlingisntit

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#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coryo snow #tbosas #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #thg #thg fanfic #thg fanfiction

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 7 months

Note

AHHHH CONGRATS ON 5k!!! Ok ok, hear me out on this request because I think it might make a good little fic. I can’t decide between Hesh or Price for this one but I got a general idea: stoned Hesh or Price. You know those videos of husbands waking up from surgery and not recognizing their wife right away but knowing they’re the most beautiful person in the world (something like this: https://youtu.be/kV8KyeApBJY). Well maybe it’s something like he got hurt from a mission (hurt enough to require drugs/anesthesia for the plot) but is recovering back at base and imagine their wife is their medic and she’s trying to update his team on how he’s recovering and you just got a stoned Hesh or Price completely hopped up on drugs following his injury, just fawning over her and he just goes bananas when she “reveals” they’re married. The team got a kick out of it

—Keep The Sheets Warm, My Love Is Coming Home

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [If this wasn't enough to prove that you were the only person for Hesh, you didn't know what did.] ❞

You walked around the room, tidying up what you could if only for the simple fact that it could distract you from the unconscious body in the bed. Realistically as a medic, you knew he would be fine—he was in the best hands possible—but Hesh had a track record for being unpredictable.

He’d gotten into some trouble out in No Man’s Land again. Broken arm and ribs; a bullet through his thigh. He was so pumped full of medication and anesthetics from surgery that you doubted that he would be waking up soon.

But then again, Hesh was always surprising you. It was one of the reasons you’d married him, after all. Never a dull day.

Elias’s voice calls from the doorway.

“You’re going to fall over at this rate,” you blink quickly, turning with an extra blanket in hand to spread around your husband’s comatose state.

Your father-in-law has his arms crossed, and Logan slinks his way through the doorway with an arm looping your shoulders, a head pushed into your scalp silently. You sigh deeply, tension that you hadn’t realized was on your face lessening.

“Only if he keeps me from seeing those greens of his.”

Logan huffs a laugh, squeezing you as his father grunts—the stern man’s eyes softening in a way they only would for you and his boys.

“He’d be more worried about you than himself if you did. Put my mind at ease, okay?” Your eyes roll but you nod with a small smile. You don’t argue with his point in the slightest.

So, that was how you ended up here, in a seat by Hesh’s hospital bed—your hand in his and your head nodding back and forth with fatigue. Elias and Logan are casually playing a game of chess from across the room when David’s eyes flutter; his mouth releasing a low groan.

Your lids snap back, spine straightening, but before you can get a word out, your husband is pulling his hand from yours. His green eyes are loopy, pupils blown wide.

He mutters something under his breath, lips grimacing and face pulling in at the sight of you.

“Hesh?” The two men stand as you check his vitals, heart hammering until there’s nothing out of the ordinary and you can sit back down with a sigh and a relieved smile. “Take it easy, alright? You got out of surgery a little while ago—everyone’s here for you—”

“W…Where’s my wife?” His words slur, jaw loose as he rotates it; the unbroken arm with an IV chord stuck in it raises as jerky digits rub at his eyes. You’re left at a loss, blinking slowly in confusion before sharing looks with your in-laws. “No offense, Miss, you’re pretty and all, but…shit, why’s everything spinning?”

A hand covers your mouth, heated embarrassment lighting inside of your veins.

“Hesh, Sweetheart,” your arm reaches to the brunette, trying to grab his wrist that he weakly moves away.

“Stay away from me,” he grunts, head limply lulling on its pillow. “Thought I told you to keep it to yourself. My Wife’ll rip,” Hesh’s voice fizzles, a loud yawn peeling his bandaged face back, “you to pieces.” A pause. You hear Logan trying to hide his loud laughter behind his lips. “Did…the doctor send you?”

Your body turns to Elias, face beaming and expression exasperated.

“Now that he’s awake will you get the other three? It’ll be easier to give the news to all of you at once.”

“Already commed ‘em,” the man states, watching his eldest with a raised brow and a slow smirk. “Least we know he’s a loose cannon on anesthesia.”

Merrick, Keegan, and Ajax all file in, and as you continue to watch over a loopy Hesh, his small noises and babbling continue even when you give the breakdown of the patient sheet. You stand just shy of brushing the bed’s lower frame. You won’t lie and say it isn’t hilarious.

“He needs to keep out of the field for at least two and a half months, boys, and I’m not joking about that, alright?”

Your husband’s slow voice slashes through your speech, and the rest of the Ghosts snicker, sharing knowing looks as Hesh tries to lift the hand currently wrapped to his chest to keep it still. “You’re a real beautiful lady, Doll, y’know that? I’m sorry you like me so much, but I love my wife, you hear? Please don’t be angry with me.”

“Hesh, Darling,” you walk closer and bend down carefully. He blinked owlishly at you, finger coming up to poke at your cheek. Your hand grabs his as you hear Ajax make a quick remark to Keegan about the man being ‘totally whipped even when he’s high.’

“David, hey,” your voice prompts him to smile, perhaps now only realizing the familiarity of it. “I’m going to tell you something, hm?”

“Okay,” he watches, petting your neck with his thumb.

“I am your wife.” The man’s eyes widen comedically as everyone shares a long laugh with one another.

“No way,” Hesh breathes after a moment, awe-stricken. “Really?”

“Really.” There’s a moment of silence, and then the heart monitor begins to pick up its pace to a fast pound. Your face goes hot with love, and you bend your head forward in a long and honest laugh into his shoulder.

Green eyes shift to the men, and Hesh beams, cheeks red and heart racing as he slurs out, “This is my wife?!”

It was safe to say they were never going to let him forget about this.

#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #x female reader #call of duty x you #cod ghosts #cod ghosts x reader #call of duty: ghosts #call of duty ghosts #hesh walker x female reader #hesh walker x reader #david hesh walker #hesh walker #david walker #hesh x reader #david hesh walker x reader

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skzdarlings · 1 year

Text

part i: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the next decade.

Companion series to my sharing the bed one-shot. Follows the relationship between reader&felix from beginning to end. It will be a multi-part series.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: eventual smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending.

One of your father’s disgruntled bodyguards shoves you for walking too slowly. You have enough tenacity to glare at him when you stumble, but even at fourteen years old you are smart enough refrain from retaliation. You know your father will not take your side as you are already in trouble for sneaking out last night. You met with some school friends and attended a house party like a normal fourteen year old, a punishable offence because your life is anything but normal.

You just hope this punishment is a physical one. A few smacks might sting but you’ll get over it, whereas you don’t want to lose your already limited phone or computer privileges.

You walk into your father’s office with the expectation you will be alone, so you stop short when you see the back of a stranger’s head.

Your father’s guests are usually suited old men or pretty young women, not a beanie-wearing teenage boy. He’s kicking his legs like he’s in an ice cream parlour and not in a chair across from one of the most powerful men in the country. Your father is behind his desk, hands steepled and attention determinedly fixed on you. Punishment time is the only time his attention is so rapt.

The door closes behind you, the guard outside slamming it shut. The boy in the chair looks over his shoulder at you. He has a soft face, much too soft for a place like this, his cheeks sweetly freckled and mouth like a pretty pink bow. He has dark eyes, his eyebrows the same shade of dark brown. His hair has been dyed a strawberry blonde, bangs sweeping out from under the beanie. He has to flick them out of his eyes as he looks you over.

You stare at him. A change in routine does not bode well for you and this is a massive change.

The boy just smiles. It is disarming in its sweetness and it petrifies you. You know how to behave when an ugly brute glares at you but a pretty boy smiling is unnerving.

Your father clears his throat. You and the boy both look his way, the boy dropping his gaze in a subservient way while you glare.

“Daughter,” your father says coolly. He gestures to the free chair beside the boy.

Some days, when you are feeling especially petulant or when your father is distracted with his phone even while meting out punishment, you will stomp your foot and refuse him. Maybe it is your stunned bemusement, but today you oblige without argument.

Your gaze drifts to the boy as you approach your seat. The boy does not look at you.

He looks like a normal teenage boy, wearing a hoodie under a flannel and blue jeans ripped at the knee, but you know better. There is always a flaw and this one is immediately jarring: his shoes are army regulation boots, the same as your father’s guards, albeit smaller. You have no idea why he would need them. He looks about your age and is a slender, delicate thing.

“Sit,” your father says. You realize you have standing there, staring. You look at your father and obey, sinking into the other chair. “Good.” Your father folds his hands on his desk. “My loving daughter,” he says dryly, “It has occurred to me that your present circumstances are not the most conducive to your development and well-being.”

You cannot help but scoff. Talk about understatement of the century.

The security teams? The constant surveillance? The knowledge that your wealthy father has accrued so many enemies that you can barely step outside without feeling threatened?

The fact you desperately want something bad to happen, because at least it would be different than the bad in here?

Your father just frowns.

“Don’t test my patience,” he says. “Especially as I have constructed a compromise according to your whims, young lady.”

Your brow furrows. You have no idea where this is going but you know you won’t like it, because you never like it.

“I only want what’s best for you,” your father says. “You’re my daughter, after all. My only child and my only heir. I want you protected but I want you capable, and you can’t be expected to thrive with the company of my men constantly surrounding you.”

Your heart kicks up with hope even while your brain knows better. Your father is not a generous man and he is clever with his words. There is a reason he has reached the heights he has reached. No one is better than your father and your father settles for no less than the best in turn.

You are an agonizing disappointment, but you lash out because you would be a disappointment regardless. Your father does not want a human daughter but a plastic doll that he can lock away until it has use, at which point he expects unending gratitude for your very existence.

This might sound like a concession of freedom but you know him better than that. The vice is tightening, not loosening. You will never be free.

“I have a gift for you,” your father says. “This is Felix.”

You and the boy, Felix, look at each other. Felix smiles again. He has the audacity to wave at you, a little salute and cutesy tip of the head.

Your nostrils flare with a sharp intake of breath. You look at your father.

“What is this?” you ask, so much wrong with this scenario that you don’t know where to start.

Your father smiles for the first time since you walked in the room. He needs to be in the position of highest power and that is obtained through making everyone else small. The more visibly uncomfortable you are, the more at ease he feels. He slouches comfortably in his big chair as he stares you down. You feel trapped in the little seat across his desk.

“This,” your father says, “is your new bodyguard.”

You look at Felix again. He is once more looking at your father like an obedient little puppy. It’s for the best as you are certain your expression is betraying every single thought. You are angry, confused, frightened. The confusion worsens your other emotions.

“Bodyguard,” you repeat. “He looks like he’s twelve.”

“I’m fourteen,” Felix says, startling you with a deep voice that does not remotely match his face. The rounder sounds are accented with an Australian twang. “Same as you.”

You look at each other again. You hide your confusion under a piercing glare. Felix draws his mouth into a flat line, not quite smiling, not quite frowning. He taps his fingers on the arm of the chair, a mismatched rhythm, some song only he can hear. His leg bounces.

You look at your father.

“Fourteen,” you say. “And short. And skinny. Look at him! I could throw him out a window!”

“You could try,” your father says, drole. “You wouldn’t succeed. Oh, hush.” He swipes a hand through the air when you open your mouth to speak again. “Felix is more than competent, believe me.”

Your father would not hire a second rate bodyguard, but there is simply no way this Felix kid is good for anything. You just can’t believe it. This is a test of some kind, maybe a mind game.

Your hackles are up and they won’t come down. Felix flicks some hair out of his eyes and the motion makes you jump. He doesn’t comment. He clears his throat and sits a little straighter, looking like every goody-two-shoes keener you ever gave a sneer.

“You will no longer require a full security detail,” your father says. “Not at home or at school. No where, barring certain occasions under my discretion.”

This has your heart racing again. Currently, your father has guards posted in several places around your school. No one but the school administrators know they are for you, but that doesn’t matter because you know. You know they are not general security, that they are specifically watching your every move. If you skip a meal or eat too much, they know. If you talk to one person and not another, they know. If you forget to do homework or flunk a test, they know. If you put on more make-up or roll up your skirt, they know. If you fall, if you laugh, if you flirt, if you breathe a little too hard, they know, and they report it all back to your father.

It doesn’t end there. They keep you on a schedule for your “protection” and if you stray from that agenda, they are on you. That means no chatting too long after class, no extended bathroom breaks, no stopping to smell a fucking flower. In the car, out the car, through the doors, at your seat, at your locker, upstairs, downstairs, fuck, fuck, fuck. How you’ve lasted this long, not even you know.

You spend all day suffocating under the extension of your father’s eyes, then you return home, flanked by bodyguards, only to be stuck with supervision until you are finally permitted to go to bed. Naturally, this is the easiest time to escape so you are in the habit of breaking out at night. You’re good at it too. Most nights you move without any detection, having memorized all the chinks in the mansion’s high-tech security armor. Last night was the result of some bad luck.

Now you are here, your heart racing, your breath catching.

It must be a trick. You look at Felix then your father, trying to hide your eagerness and your suspicion.

“In exchange, you will have Felix,” your father says. “He will attend school with you as a classmate. He is in all your classes and extra-curriculars. You are to keep him with you at all times of day. He will accompany you everywhere at all times of day.” Your father leans in. “Do you understand that? At all times of day.”

It does not sound too different from the security team other than the obvious fact there is only one of Felix. Even if Felix is the most skilled bodyguard in the world, he is still just one person. It seems too good to be true so it must be. Your father is waiting until you are comfortable so he can rip the rug out from under you, to put you in your place, which is flat on your back like a stupid, helpless, needy baby.

You will not give him the satisfaction. Curtly, you say, “I understand.”

“Good,” your father says. “I’m having a new bed installed in your bedroom as we speak. It should be ample space for two people without your privacy being overly encroached. When you get home, you will clear a space for Felix to move his things into your room.”

Despite your effort to remain neutral, obvious surprise blinks across your face.

“Wait, what?” you ask, darting forward in your seat. “What are you talking about?”

Your father tips his head as if perplexed with your outburst.

“Did you think you were getting away with something?” he asks. “Constantly sneaking out at night, evading my men. Do you know every time you pull a childish stunt like that, it endangers me and my business just as much as you?”

Your anger bubbles to the surface as quickly as his, cold laughter punching out of you as you say, “Oh! Your business! Of fucking course!”

“Don’t use vulgar language with me, child!”

“Don’t call me a child!” you snap back with as much fervour. “I’m fourteen years old! I’m not a little kid and I don’t need some other idiot kid babysitting me! I don’t need anyone fucking watching me!”

Felix is sitting ramrod straight, his eyes flicking back and forth between you and your father. He says nothing. He just sniffs and scratches a little circle on the exposed skin of his knee.

“You are my daughter, this is my house, and I will do with both as I please,” your father says.

“Then maybe I don’t want to be in this house!” you shout.

“You want to leave?” your father asks. He smacks a vicious hand down on his desk, rattling his computer. “Go ahead. Pick yourself up and walk out that door. Where are you going to go from here? You have no money and no skills and no protection. See how long it takes someone to pick you up off the street. You don’t want to be my daughter? You want me to ignore you when they put a gun to your head? The least they will do is kill you, you stupid little thing. But go on, since you’re so wise and brave and all grown-up. Walk out that door. I dare you.”

You sit on the very edge of your seat, your hands balled into fists. You long to swing them at his smug face but you can only sit there, vibrating with rage.

“Do you have something more to say?” your father asks.

You kick his desk, the adrenaline forcing it out of you. He smacks a mug and it smashes on the floor. Felix still does not react, though his gaze does linger on the broken mug.

“What about him!” you shriek, pointing at Felix. It draws his attention back to you, his eyebrow lifting at your pointed finger. “You’re going to leave me alone with a boy? In bed?” You imbue this exclamation with all the suggestive horror you can. “I can’t share a room with a boy! What if he’s a pervert! What if he takes pictures of me! What if he rapes me! You really trust some random boy to be alone with me?!”

The silence that follows is somehow more shrill than the yelling. Your father stares at you, resolutely focussed with such a cold glare that you shiver.

Felix shuffles in his seat. His mouth opens and he looks contemplative, weighing his words, but your father speaks before he can.

“Felix,” he says, “put your hand on the desk.”

Felix delays only seconds, more surprised by the order than reluctant. He obediently rests his hand on the desk, palm facing up.

Without looking away from you, your father grabs that hand and flips it over. Felix jerks, his feet planting, but he manages to restrain whatever instinct rattled him. He looks at his hand, at where your father pins it to the wood.

You look there too, fuming, then you look at your father. He is still glaring at you, even when he reaches into his desk. Your brow furrows when he retrieves an enveloper opener, a sleek little knife, shiny and sharp. He smacks it onto the table beside Felix’s hand. It makes you jump.

Felix just looks at the knife, tipping his head as if only mildly curious.

“Felix,” your father says. “Pick up that knife.” He leans back in his desk chair and crosses his arms, his expression bland and uncaring as he looks at you. You shake less from fury than fear, looking from your father to Felix.

Felix picks up the knife with his free hand. He looks at it, his expression revealing nothing.

“Thank you,” your father says.

He has not looked away from you even once, asserting his knowledge that Felix will obey without his supervision. You try to be as steadfast as him. You act like you couldn’t care less about the unknown boy and his freckles and beanie. This is between you and your father. You glare just as fiercely.

“Now, Felix,” your father says, “I am going to count down from three, then you are going to drive that knife into your hand. All the way through to the desk. I trust you know the spot that will do the least lasting damage.”

Your gaze whips from your father to Felix, staring at him wide-eyed as the stupid boy doesn’t even flinch. He just turns the knife over. His brow briefly pinches as he rests the tip of the knife against a soft spot on the back of his hand.

Your horrified brain is already several paces ahead, picturing his bloodied hand pinned to the wooden desk. You taste bile and it is only partially for the gore. The rest is for the fact Felix does nothing more than blink at his hand.

“Three,” your father says. “Two.”

You scream, “Stop!” at the same your father says, “One.”

You tackle Felix. The adrenaline flies out of you the same as that kick. The knife clatters to the desk and both your chairs fly out from under you.

Felix is fast. He flips you around so he takes the brunt of the fall, your head pillowing on his stomach when you land in a tangled heap on the floor. His beanie falls off when his head hits the ground. He barely winces, looking down at you.

You stare back at him, breathing hard.

“Are you fucking insane?” you ask. Tears fill your eyes, much to your horror. You try to suck them in because there is nothing you hate more than crying in front of your father. You don’t even know what is prompting the tears. Maybe it’s the forced recollection of how thoroughly his guards have invaded your life, the revelation that you will be forced to share every living moment with another intruder, or the fact he almost maimed a fourteen year old boy just to make a point.

Or, maybe, the fact you fell for it like you always do. Just a stupid little girl, high in her emotions, vulnerable and weak and in need of intervention.

You push away from Felix, directing all your emotions at him.

“You’re a fucking lunatic,” you say, spitting when you talk. “What did you think you were doing? Freak. Do you think you’re brave? You’re an idiot.”

Felix props himself up on his elbows, just staring back at you. His gaze flicks up when your father stands. That awful man circles the desk to look down at you.

You refuse to look up. You wipe your arm under your nose. Tears blur your vision.

“Felix,” your father says, “there is a car waiting outside. Take my daughter home. She is not to leave the house tonight.”

You wrench your arm away when Felix tries to help you up. He says nothing to your glare but at least he’s smart enough not to smile again. He gets up and dusts off his pants, then retrieves his beanie. You clamber to your feet and march toward the door without looking back or waiting. Only when your hand is on the doorknob does your father call your name.

You freeze, wanting so badly to ignore him and storm outside, but once the coldness settles in your veins you cannot move.

“Come here,” your father says. As if under a spell, you can only move when he demands it. You turn, facing him as he approaches. You hold still, your eyes full of tears and fists curled at your side.

Your father walks up and swiftly strikes you across the face. Tears spill over and you grab your cheek, heaving with frightened breath as your useless new bodyguard just stands there and watches.

Your father sighs.

“You’ll learn,” he says. “One way or another. If I have to chip at you with an axe until you take my shape, I’ll do it. You’ll thank me one day. Felix. Take her home. Now.”

You let Felix take your arm and guide you out of the room, too drained to fight him.

You refuse to be accommodating. If you’re unhappy then you will make Felix unhappy too, and if Felix is unhappy then maybe he will leave. Then your father will be unhappy and you finally won’t be.

You glare at the massive new bed taking up space in your room. It is still a big room otherwise, with plenty of space for two people, but your things are spread out everywhere and you have no intention of moving them. Instead, you empty out a single bedside drawer and point to it.

“There,” you say. “That’s yours.”

Felix is standing in the bedroom doorway wearing a backpack. He looks around the room, not sneering at its lacey, ivory princess-ness but not looking too enamoured either. He is passive as ever, quietly receiving his surroundings. He closes the door behind himself and shrugs the backpack down to the crease of his elbow.

“Kk,” he says. He puts his backpack on the floor by the bed then takes off his beanie and puts it in the drawer. He sits on the edge of the bed, hands folded in his lap. He stares at the wall.

What a weirdo.

You stare at him until he looks at you, then you scoff and roll your eyes. You dump your things on your desk and stalk over to your private bathroom door.

“Can I go pee without your supervision, or do you need to hold my hand?” you ask sarcastically.

“I don’t need to,” Felix says, “but, uhhh, I guess I can if you need help. But if you have a problem with doing it by yourself then we should probably take you to a doctor. I know first aid but I can’t really help with incontinence or like the opposite. Lol.”

He says the word lol out loud, a single grating syllable. You do not dignify his weird humour with a response. You stomp into your bathroom and slam the door shut.

There are bars on the bathroom window now. You grab the nearest bottle of soap and chuck it there, furious when tears spring back to your eyes. You feel violated even in your privacy, glaring at those bars as you shower and wash away the day.

You look at your reflection in the mirror, touching where your cheek feels tender from your father’s strike. He usually doesn’t hit your face or anywhere someone could see swelling or a cut. You suppose today’s slap was more personal than strategic.

You put on a thick sweatshirt and sweatpants. When you step back into your room, the weirdo is standing at the window with his hands behind his back. He is wearing just his ripped jeans and a t-shirt, plus those ugly army boots. He looks at you when you open the door, giving you a brief assessing stare before he smiles.

It would disarm someone more naïve. You just glare.

“Where are your things?” you ask.

He tips his head like an inquisitive cat. “Huh?” he asks.

“Your things,” you say venomously. “Aren’t you moving them in here?”

“Uh, I did,” he says. He turns and points to his side of the bed. “You gave me a drawer, remember?”

This kid unpacked a beanie.

Maybe it’s a good sign he isn’t fully moving in. Maybe this whole charade is just your father threatening you. He will torture you with this invader until he thinks you have learned a lesson, then things will go back to normal. Felix probably isn’t even a proper bodyguard, and how could he be? A skinny, pretty fourteen year old boy? He’s probably an actor or model or something.

You give him a derisive smirk and shove past him. He just shrugs and approaches the bathroom door, pausing before entering. He looks back at you.

“Don’t go anywhere, yeah?” he says, then walks into the bathroom and closes the door.

You exhale sharply. You had no intention of going anywhere, honestly too exhausted to do anything but putter around on the computer, but fuck this kid. He’s your father’s paid actor or some other nonsense, so who does he think he is to give you any orders?

You storm out of the room with the intention of marching around outside, but you stumble when you enter the upstairs corridor.

The huge house is eery in its silence. You shudder as you look around.

Even when your father is not home, the security team is here. Someone is always awake, at least one person keeping guard in the corridor, the rest of them scattered in the house and guest house. But they’re gone. They’re all genuinely gone. And because it is late evening, all the housekeepers and cleaners are gone too. You have not been in a house this empty your entire life. It feels uncanny, ghostly even. It completely halts your half-baked plan to leave, not that you planned on going much further than the pool-house.

You stand still, suspended in the unfamiliar emptiness.

“Whatcha doin’?” Felix’s freaky deep voice is suddenly right beside you. You jump away from with a startled squeak. He just stands there, his mouth in that stupid flat line, his shaggy blonde hair bouncing when he tips his head.

“Nothing,” you snap, annoyed that he scared you. “I’m just going to the kitchen for a snack. Is that against the fucking law now?”

“It’s not really healthy to eat this late at night,” Felix says, “but it’s not illegal. That would be weird.”

“I hate you,” you say. His even temperament has been driving you insane, so it is satisfying to see a flicker of genuine surprise on his face. “Just leave me alone.”

“Sorry,” he says, recovering quickly. His voice is steady. “Can’t do that. Sort of my job, you know?”

You roll your eyes then turn and stomp all the way down the stairs. Felix trails behind you without protest, not making much noise despite the boots but he is impossible to ignore regardless.

You go to the kitchen and open the fridge. You aren’t hungry but you feel like you have to eat something now just to prove a point.

Felix ambles up to the counter and perches himself on a stool. You look over your shoulder at him. He waves.

“I’m not making you anything,” you snap.

“That’s fine.” He folds his hand on the counter. “I’m not hungry. Thank you.”

You reach into the fridge and grab an eggplant out of the produce drawer. It is a ridiculous response, but you decide to out-weird the weirdo, making eye contact as you bite in the raw eggplant. You try to hide your displeasure, chewing the thick vegetable slowly. Felix tips his head very far then straightens. His eyes narrow.

“I’m pretty sure that’s toxic,” he says.

You stop chewing.

“Yeah,” he says. “Eggplant, yeah. I think when it’s raw it’s like not good for you or something? I think there’s like a chemical in it. Maybe it’s only if you eat a lot of it, uhhh, I don’t know. Just in case, I wouldn’t eat it like that if I were you.”

You stare at him with a chunk of raw eggplant still on your tongue. He could be bluffing. He could be playing mind games. He could be telling the truth, since he delivered each sentence so uncertainly. Maybe he’s just bad at mind games. You’re good at them. You’ve been playing them since you were a child, so you just stare him down, swallow the eggplant, then take another bite.

His brow furrows. You are pretty sure your displeasure is a little more obvious now, your mouth partially open as you chew. Felix did not balk at stabbing his own hand but he looks very scandalized right now. You consider it a success.

“Stop it,” Felix says.

You take another bite, ripping into it with a ferocious tear.

“What are you doing?” he asks. “What? Are you trying to commit suicide by eggplant?”

You just shrug, chewing with your mouth wide open now. His stool scrapes the ground and you brace yourself, shuffling in the opposite direction when he circles the kitchen island.

“Spit it out,” he says.

“No,” you say, spitting eggplant as you say it. You very nearly choke.

“Seriously,” Felix says. “This isn’t funny.”

You chew obnoxiously big in his direction and he pounces, smoothly intercepting your escape. He cages you in against the counter, blocking you when you try to move. You drop the rest of the eggplant and push at him, dribbling mushy vegetable and cursing through your mouthful.

“Spit. It. Out,” he says, putting his hand under your mouth like a mother to a baby. You shove that hand away, then try to shove his face away. He clearly doesn’t want to get too physical with you, but eventually he grabs your chin and holds you still, your face pinched in his hand. You stare at him, breathing hard through your nose. “Stop it,” he says.

The house is empty. The house is genuinely, seriously, completely empty. Your father trusts Felix that much.

Who is this fucking kid?

You spit the eggplant at him. It spatters on his shirt and wins you an eye roll. It’s the first expression from him to make you smile.

“Bed time,” he says, stepping back to brush the mess off his shirt.

You cross your arms and lean against the counter. “No,” you say.

“No?” he asks. His deep voice fractures with a higher-pitched sound of surprise. “Why not?”

Because you hate your father and everything he puts you through. Because petty victories are your only victories. Because there is something seriously wrong with Felix if this is his life situation, and there is something seriously wrong with you for the same reason.

So you shrug. “Make me,” you say.

There is a beat of silence.

Then the world is upside down because Felix picks you up and slings you over his shoulder. You cry out, slapping his back as he marches to the stairs. Where is he even hiding this strength?

“Put me down!” You pound on his backside while he carries you up the stairs. “When my father hears about this—”

He puts you down on the landing, swinging up a step to afford him an extra foot of height over you. He holds your wrist in his hand and looks at you very seriously.

“What?” he asks. “When he hears about me doing my job?”

You try to tug your hand back but Felix holds it tight.

“Are you serious right now?” you ask. You continue to squirm your hand in his grip. “Who the fuck are you? What do you even get out of this?”

“What do you get out of this - this - everything?” he asks.

“I get my life,” you snap. “In pieces and only for a little bit, but mine.”

“Me too,” he says.

A breathless silence follows. You realize you are holding his hand, having twisted and turned so much that he clasped your fingers with his. You both look there then at each other. You abruptly let go.

“Can we go to bed?” Felix asks, softening his voice. “Please.”

Your lower lip wobbles. You look at the stain on his shirt. You think about his hand on that desk.

“And what about my other question?” you ask.

He tips his head again, but his expression is no longer neutral. He wears his confusion openly, briefly but substantially.

“What?” he asks.

“My other question,” you say, blinking back your tears. “Who are you?”

“You tell me first,” he says. “Who are you?”

It’s easier to fight and scream than plainly express yourself. No one ever listens, so you are not practiced. You have Felix’s undivided attention but it suddenly feels like too much. You do not have it in you to glare anymore. You meet his pained gaze with your own and join him on the next step.

“I’m tired,” you say. “Let’s go to bed.”

He goes to check the security system while you get ready for bed. You are already nestled under the covers, shivering despite the thick layers because the house sounds so quiet and you are honestly scared. You jump when the door opens and Felix enters, your eyes meeting in the dim light. He looks away first, going about his own routine. You turn your back to him.

The bed is big but you still feel it dip when he gets inside. You look over your shoulder. He is laying on his back with his eyes closed. He is clearly still awake but the semblance of sleep accentuates the natural innocence of his face. You have seen the flicker of a few deeper emotions, none of them childish, but he looks his age while laying there.

His eyes open. He glances at you. You wonder what you look like to him.

“Good night,” he says, shattering the terrifying silence.

You don’t argue it. You just nod then turn away, closing your eyes, letting the sound of his breathing lull you to sleep faster than usual.

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #bodyguard au

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sainns · 19 days

Text

until i opened my eyes ( nishimura riki )

femreader angst hurt/no comfort & toxic!situationship!riki — why has it taken so long to realize how awful he is?

cw riki is toxic and mean, bittersweet ending imo, no part two ㅤ& 1.4k words

note @nishions hi sorry. anyways this is probs the longest thing ive written in months ☺️ like and subscribe (reblog) please

you always thought that you had a bit more respect for yourself before you got together with riki. maybe it was your fault; you’d never set explicit boundaries or gotten mad at him for anything that he’s done, instead brushing it off as him not being fully ready for a relationship yet.

and that was okay with you, you could understand why he didn’t want to date you. you were content with the small affections he would give you when you were alone, simply ignoring every red flag, no matter how bright they were.

you let him treat you poorly simply because you’ve liked the boy for almost as long as you’ve known him. it was easy to forget about him pretending to not know you in public when he would bring you your favorite foods on days when you were stressed. it was too easy to forget about him only messaging you at atrocious hours of the night when he would watch your favorite shows just so you could talk about it together for hours.

you were fine until you found yourself upset more often than not. all because of him and his actions towards you, it was embarrassing to say the least. the one friend you had told about riki was iroha, and she despised him (with good reason), she was always urging you to get out of this relationship, but you didn’t listen.

eventually, though, you stopped enjoying the limited time that you actually spent together because it somehow always ended up in an argument, him storming out and you ending up alone like you always were when it came to being with him.

“you can’t seriously be mad at me right now. you’re making a big deal out of nothing,” he scoffs, running a hand through his messy hair.

you're used to this. you're always the dramatic one, everything you do is wrong. he's never wrong and if you so much as imply that he is then you're the bad guy. you're just disregarding his feelings and being an awful person.

“i just – i don’t understand why you would do that. it’s like you’re actively trying to ruin my relationships with people,” you’re sitting on your couch as you watch riki pacing in front of you. he stops when you speak, furrowing his eyebrows as he turns his head to look at you.

you can feel a pit form in your stomach.

“i didn’t know you were in a ‘relationship’ with him,”

“it's not like that, he’s just my friend, ki,”

he hums, nodding his head, “uh huh,” he stares you down. it feels uncomfortable, it’s like he’s trying to think of the worst thing he could possibly say to you, “you don’t treat him like a friend. you’re around him all the time, god. you’re, like, almost as clingy with him as you are with me. it’s weird,”

you resist the urge to scoff, knowing that he’ll only use it against you — “wow, so i can’t say what i feel now? you’re just gonna be a bitch about it?” — like he always does.

you guess you’re silent for too long because he mumbles something under his breath, you aren’t sure what, and he speaks to you once again, “yn, seriously. what’s your fucking problem?”

“what’s your problem? you’ve been really mean to me lately,”

“whatever, dude. if i’m so mean then i’ll just leave,”

you don’t bother trying to stop him as he grabs his stuff angrily. he slips his shoes on and his hoodie that was sitting next to you before he took it. you watch him intently, taking note of the crease between his eyebrows and his darkened eyes. you know what he looks like when he’s mad and this isn’t it, you don’t know what he’s feeling right now.

in all honestly, you don’t know anything about him. this whole thing was superficial; you like him but he doesn’t like you. he only likes the attention you give him, the way that you’ll drop everything just for the chance to be in his presence. it boosts his ego and it hurts yours.

iroha told you, she warned you multiple times that the longer you stayed with him the worse it was going to get, but you crave his attention. no matter how hard you tried to stop, you just couldn’t do it. not when he would text you saying that he missed your voice, that he missed hanging out with you.

maybe there’s something wrong with you. realistically, you know that there isn’t, that this isn’t totally your fault, but it truly felt like it was. why doesn’t he like you the way that you like him? what is so wrong with you that he can’t like you back? he used to compliment you all the time in the beginning, he told you everything a girl wants to hear from the boy she likes, but eventually he stopped. maybe it’s because he realized that he already had you hooked, he didn’t need to put in all that ‘extra’ work.

it’s only been seven months since you and him started whatever this is, and it’s been three months of you feeling the most unwanted you’ve ever felt in your life. you can’t believe it’s taken ninety days for you to realize that maybe it isn’t worth it. it never was.

“text me when you fix your shit, alright?” you’re broken out of your thoughts when you hear his voice again. you focus on his figure, staring at him. he wasn’t worth all of this pain, as dramatic as that sounds. you could easily find somebody else, somebody who actually cared about you.

“i don’t want to text you. i don’t want to do this with you anymore,”

you can tell your words surprise him. his eyes widen briefly and you can see him flinch slightly, as if the mere thought of you breaking it off is hurting him. sure, you’ve tried ending things before but this is the first time you’ve sounded so sure of it. this time you really weren’t going to text him, you weren’t going to call him, and you weren’t going to beg for his attention.

“seriously?” his voice is the softest you’ve ever heard it and it almost makes you change your mind, but you don’t.

“yeah,”

he walks back towards you, cautiously, like he’s afraid you’re going to do something to him if he gets too close. once he sees that you aren’t going to hit and scream at him, he kneels down in front of you, his hands resting on your thighs.

“baby, this isn’t even a big fight, what do you mean? are you for real dumping me?”

you laugh bitterly, pushing his hands off of you, “i can’t dump you if we weren’t ever dating, riki,”

“you know what i mean, yn,” you can hear the annoyance creeping into his voice, the sweet and vulnerable tone from earlier disappearing as quickly as it came. this solidified everything for you; no matter how nice he pretends to be, he will never treat you right. his mood changes every time your mouth opens, every time you try arguing your side. he isn’t healthy for you.

“just leave already. i don’t want to do this, i’m serious,” you push him back gently, making enough room for you to stand and walk over to the door, pulling it open, “please, just go. you never had a problem with it before,”

he stares at you for a brief moment, not even having the decency to make eye contact with you as he says, “you’re being fucking dramatic, but fine. don’t text me when you realize you fucked up,” riki stands, finally leaving. he bumps his shoulder against yours when he exits, pulling the door out of your grasp just so he can slam it shut.

you blink, scrunching your nose up at his display of pure immaturity. despite that ending though, you can practically feel all of the tension leaving your body. you feel like you can finally breath again. you’re glad you finally opened your eyes, that you got out of the lovesick haze he had you trapped in for so long.

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