#i could find SOMETHING that would be the place you'd draw the line | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

livinginshambles · 6 months

Text

I thought you'd be different | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: A cinderella story (maybe a little romeo and juliet while we're at it) but Hogwarts - Enemies-ish to lovers. You find an enchanted parchment through wich you anonymously talk to a stranger (James). When you meet him at the Yule ball, he is not who you expected, but you give him a chance. When you realise that was clearly a mistake, you flee cinderella style.

Probably part one of two again.

Notes: Not proofread, grammar mistakes. Discrimination issues, themes of bullying. Regulus is our friend. James is an idiot, but we knew that already. Sirius sucks.

Masterlist. Part two. Part three

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

You could still remember the moment vividly, as if it was engraved in your memory. That moment when the sorting hat placed you in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor like your two older sisters had been sorted. You could still see the look of surprise, concern, horror and then eventually disgust, every time you close your eyes.

“Now we finally know your true colors,” is what your sister Alyssa had hissed coldly at you. You had pleadingly looked at your other sister, but Marla had supported her twin sister, disregarding the confused and scared look in your eleven-year-old eyes.

“Don’t talk to us, don’t look at us and don’t mention us at all,” she sneered down at you and for a moment you wondered how she hadn’t been the one to be sorted into Slytherin instead. But you had cast your eyes down and agreed.

But years passed and you had become the very stereotype of a Slytherin student, completely leaning into the cold, distant, quiet but calculating persona that your sisters had created for you. Might as well, you figured after your parent’s dismay at the revelation of your house.

You were making your way down the corridor, long strides as you passed your sisters while looking them straight in the eye. They grimaced at the sight of you, but without their entire group of classmates, they didn’t dare make any comments. A feeling of victory erupted inside of you, and you couldn’t help the small smirk that crept up your face.

“What poor soul suffered for you to look so satisfied?” You turned your head to look at the person who called out to you. James Potter and Sirius Black were both leaning against a statue in the open yard. “Did you get rid of Regulus or something?” Sirius taunted. “Finally had enough of him following you around, did you L/N?”

��Go die in a ditch, Sirius,” you retorted with an eye roll, but seemed unphased.

“Why so much hostility,” James unpleasantly remarked, and you halted in your step. “10 points from Gryffindor for loitering,” you pettily decided.

“If you have nothing to do, other than insulting students, I would love to recommend you to Professor McGonagall for detention. Heard she was still looking for the person who made all the pumpkins explode last week during Halloween, and you guys are terrible at getting rid of the evidence.” With a last glance up and down, you continued your way towards the room of requirement.

When you entered the sober room with a sigh, you noticed the small scrolled up piece of parchment in the middle of the room. You frowned. This was your space. The room didn’t open this space for anyone else, you made it specifically as a safe haven.

You cautiously approached the parchment and rolled it open to reveal nothing. It was completely blank. You shrugged. If the room left this here, it was meant for you, and so you took a seat and started drawing on it.

James sat in an empty room, his invisibility cloak hiding him from plain sight as he pulled the now folded paper from his back pocket. He inspected it closely, almost pressing the paper to his glasses in a curious manner. He had gone to the Room of Requirements earlier that day and found a piece of paper floating in the air.

James unfolded the paper, and his eyebrows flew up. Lines were appearing on the paper by itself, and a beautiful portrait of a weeping willow with a girl, crying on a bench under the tree appeared.

James fumbled to find his quill and ink. Then he started to write something on it, in a handwriting that he only ever used for written exams. Credits to Professor McGonagall, who had announced that she would not be grading anything she couldn’t read. And she had looked over her glasses at him while she said it.

It’s beautiful.

You dropped the parchment at the words that formed right under your drawing. You traced it with your fingers. Then you decided to write back.

Thank you, I’ve been dreaming about this for the past two days.

You frowned at yourself, unsure why you would disclose such information, but figured no one would be able to trace this back to you anyway.

James blinked at the response he got, mouth open in surprise. He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised. It must simply be a spell of some sort after all. He stared at the sad drawing and the sentence, and then he made up his mind, writing back.

It must be lonely for that girl to cry by herself under the weeping willow.

Your eyes followed the words that formed in a trance.

If she ever feels lonely again, she can always pour her heart out on this parchment. I’ll be the mighty guardian wizard that will make all her worries magically disappear.

A grateful smile made its way up your face and when you scribbled back a response, James couldn’t help but smile as well.

Maybe she will.

You doodled a wizard sitting on the bench next to the crying girl, a consoling hand stretched out.

That's how you became James’ best kept secret. He learned that you were indeed a student at Hogwarts, but that you felt lonely. That you enjoyed butterbeer, but never got to enjoy it on a Hogsmeade outing with friends, because you rarely had any. He learned that you felt inferior to your siblings and a disappointment to your parents. He noticed how you would draw a circle as the dot on your ‘i’ and learned, when he asked, that you did that because you had once seen Professor McGonagall do that when you were in your first year, and had practiced mimicking her handwriting, should it ever come in handy.

In return, he had told you that he felt pressured by the reputation that he had to maintain. He loved Quidditch and absolutely despised Ancient Runes, to which you had replied, “who doesn’t?”. He told you that he had illegally learned to become an Animagus, a stag, and that he wasn’t sure yet what the future would hold for him. He even revealed to you that he desperately wants to protect his friends and sometimes had nightmares, which usually resulted in a sneak around the castle at midnight. When you had asked him if he’d ever been caught, he responded with, “never”, and had explained to you that he had an invisibility cloak.

Two months passed and before you knew it, you were explaining Transfiguration through the enchanted parchment. You did conclude from this that your pen pal was most likely in a year or two higher than yourself but decided not to comment on it. James on the other hand, was under the assumption that you must be from his year, as you managed to help him study for his exams.

But now, it was almost 12 o’clock midnight, and James chewed his lip while he looked at the parchment. He hesitated for a moment. Then he decided to ask you the one question he had been yearning to know the answer to.

Who are you?

You looked at the paper sadly, and sighed.

You’d be disappointed.

I understand if you don’t want to reveal yourself. But know that I could never be disappointed by you, Willow.

James sighed when you didn’t answer anymore. He waved away the light that emitted from the tip of his wand and took his glasses off. He went to put the parchment under his pillow as usual, when he saw the scribbling movement that he’d gotten so accustomed to.

He scrambled to grab his wand to shed light on the paper but accidentally nudged them off the nightstand and onto the floor, where it rolled under his bed. James’ eyes flickered back to the paper in his hand, and he managed to catch the first letter of your name as it was written in capital letters.

But your cursive handwriting, the dark and lack of glasses made it impossible to read the rest of your name. When he finally reached his wand and put on his glasses, he heard the clock strike twelve and he cursed as he grasped the parchment tightly, hurried ‘lumos’ and saw that the parchment had reset itself to a blank page again, just as every night at 12 o’clock at midnight.

Wait, please! I didn’t catch it before it erased itself. Please write it again?

You let out a sigh in relief after you had internally bashed your head against a wall.

No, it was stupid of me. I’m glad you didn’t see it.

You leaned back into your armchair with a racing heart. You couldn’t believe you had done that.

“Regulus,” you acknowledged as you pulled the chair back to sit next to him in the library. “Y/N,” Regulus quietly responded without looking up from his book, and if you didn’t know any better, his straight face would indicate annoyance. Luckily, you did know better.

“You smile any brighter, the sorting hat will transfer you to Hufflepuff, you know,” you teased him.

His face distorted in a grimace and without missing a beat, he replied, “do kill me before such a thing occurs.” You shook your head and finally sat down. Then you pursed your lips in thought.

“You know how I’ve been working all summer to earn galleons?”

“No.”

“Well I did.”

“So it seems.”

“Anyway, I rented a small flat,” you blurted out. Regulus finally looked up at you, surprise almost evident on his face. Then again, you didn’t have the most amazing home situation either. You often opted to stay behind at Hogwarts for the holidays. It is how you two had befriended each other, especially ever since Sirius left him to his own devices at home. Parents, it was a trauma bonding thing.

“Congratulations,” he nodded, his voice trailed off as he tried to see how this would concern him.

“So I thought you might want to stay with me over the Christmas holidays? Your mother doesn’t hate me, so I thought it might be possible. Gives you a chance to get out once in a while.” You tentatively brought up the sensitive subject.

“And what makes you think living with you will be any more bearable than living in my own mansion?” Regulus snarkily remarked.

You squinted your eyes at him in a scowl. “A simple ‘no’ would suffice don’t you think?”

“Do I have to pay rent?”

“Depends on whether or not the answer impacts your decision.”

“So not then.”

You huffed.

“Fine, I suppose I could join you in your small flat.”

“Merlin, don’t go doing me any favors Reg, I wouldn’t want to owe you.”

Regulus shook his head in amusement.

Satisfied with your rather successful attempt to invite him over, you got up. The chair you sat on screeched loudly as it was being pushed back. You could feel the librarian’s furious eyes on your back and rolled your eyes at her as you made your way to the door. “Alright, alright, I’m leaving,” you waved your hand in the air and exited the room.

You made it approximately two steps when you spotted your sisters again. “Of course you would cause a disturbance in the library,” Marla spat at you. You raised your eyebrows but remained unimpressed.

“I see you’ve got your buddies to back you up now?” you commented and tilted your chin slightly upwards. Your eyes flickered to your other sister, their closest friends, and the marauders.

For a moment, you considered walking away, but there was just something about that twitching lip of your sister that had you irked.

You stepped forward, narrowing the gap between you and your sister. You leaned in slightly and then, “Boo.”

It took your other sister, Alyssa about one second to have her wand pulled out and pointed at your throat.

James watched the interaction with a small frown on his face. He didn’t really speak with the fellow Gryffindor twins, but their friends and Lily were friends, so the marauders had joined them on their way towards the courtyard.

His mind flickered to a conversation he had had with ‘Willow’ about her sisters, and he wondered if you felt the same sadness and inferiority as his pen pal. And with that in mind, he pulled Alyssa back by her robe with one harm, the other lowering her raised wand.

“Let’s not,” he shrugged, when she raised her brows in question at him.

“She clearly threatened my sister,” Alyssa defended.

You scoffed at that. “I said ‘boo’. That’s hardly a threat,” you rolled your eyes and glanced at James who tried to offer you something that resembled a smile.

Was he mocking you? “Fancy yourself a hero, don’t you, Potter.”

“Hey, I was just trying to help,” he raised his hands in defense.

“Cause you’re such a good soul,” you sarcastically remarked.

“Yeah, actually. At least better than you. That hostility is so uncalled for,” Sirius mumbled under his breath, and you shot him a glare. “Right, better than me. Let me ask the two-dozen tormented Slytherin students you’ve bullied this past year. Bet Snape will buy your self-proclaimed ‘kindness’.”

You were already walking away when Sirius opened his mouth to call something out to you, but James kicked his shins in attempt to shut him up. Your words resonated in his mind.

Maybe he was a twat.

Am I a twat?

What the bloody hell are you on about?

Someone called me a twat today. Now that wasn’t necessarily true, but the implications were there.

Did you deserve it?

Sort of.

Sort of?

I mean, I am only an asshole to people who are assholes themselves and deserve it. But I guess that makes me an asshole too.

You hesitated for a moment and decided to write your opinion on the matter.

Maybe you being an asshole to people makes them assholes. And then it becomes a vicious circle. Self-fulfilling prophecy and all that bogger.

You reckon?

Wouldn’t have written it down if I didn’t.

On a brighter note, do you have a date for the Yule ball after the exams?

If you’re asking me out, I already promised my friend that we’d go together.

Oh right. But would you save me a dance? Maybe at midnight under the main crystal chandelier?

James bit his lip again in suspense. The Yule ball is a masked ball anyways, if you don’t want to reveal yourself.

Midnight, main crystal chandelier. You decided to leave it at that. Besides. You could enchant the mask a little extra, so you’d be even more unrecognizable. You wondered who would be behind the kind words of the parchment.

It felt strange to you. Really looking forward to something to the point you could feel jitters in your stomach in anticipation. But it was having a certain effect on you that even the younger Black couldn’t help but miss.

Regulus squinted his eyes and moved his jaw in thought. When he had had enough, he pulled you aside.

“Out with it.”

You deflated. You knew that he knew what he was talking about, so you shrugged. “Someone asked me to save a dance next week,” you mumbled.

“And you want to?” Regulus’ tone shifted to an incredulous one.

“I found an enchanted parchment in the room of requirements and it’s connected. I’ve been using it to have conversations with a mystery person.”

It felt great to be able to share this with your friend and you leaned against the wall behind you. “So yeah.” You finished the confession with an awkward hand gesture.

Regulus took a moment to register what you said. And then, as if it was the most normal thing ever, he responded with, “I see. And you have no idea who?”

You let yourself slide down the wall and tiredly put your head on your propped up knees. “Probably a Gryffindor.”

Regulus started laughing. You snapped your head up and scowled at him, not that he was used to anything else from you.

“As long as it’s not a mudbl-“

You kicked his legs and made him lose his balance. You shot him a warning glance. “You know my opinion on that.”

Regulus sighed. You had once confided in him about your home situation, including that time when you had overheard your parents argue when you came home for the first time after having been sorted into Slytherin. Your father had addressed the matter as soon as you walked through the door.

“You’re no daughter of mine.” He had said with disapproval in his voice. It wasn’t meant as a figurative insult. It was a statement. Your father believed that you could simply not biologically be his daughter. The words had you avert your eyes to the floor in shame.

“My entire bloodline has been sorted into Gryffindor.” He had looked at your mother. “Your family does have Slytherins. She’s most likely the result of your affair with that muggle a decade ago. It is possible.” And just like that, he had practically disowned you.

“Okay,” Regulus relented. “We’ll see who it is next week.”

James was nervously looking around, standing partnerless in the middle of the dancefloor. He had long forgone the mask that he had chosen because it prevented him from using his glasses. He looked at the great clock just above the table with drinks and pulled a hand through his hair.

It was time, so where were you? Hopefully you hadn’t chickened out yet because he was absolutely dying to meet you.

There was just something about you. It sparked something in him that he hadn’t felt since Lily. He’d look forward to your messages all the time. Every morning, he practically jumped up in anticipation and excitement as he reached under his pillow to read your ‘good morning’ message for the day. A smile would pass his lips each time.

James was ripped from his thoughts when a hand was placed on his shoulder blade. It tapped twice. He stopped breathing for a moment before turning around. And then the breath was knocked out of both of you completely.

For two different reasons.

James stared in awe at you. You wore a white and silver dress, covered in diamonds. A delicate white mask covered the upper part of your face, and he stared intently at your eyes, but somehow, he still couldn’t pinpoint who you were.

He could see all of your features clearly, but as if he was in a dream, he somehow couldn’t piece everything together to identify you. A charm, he realized. He was disappointed but shook it off. If you felt insecure, then he wouldn’t push it.

James’ face broke out in a grin, and he stepped forward. He couldn’t help but reach out to your face. But you took a step back. His hand fell and he frowned at your reaction, suddenly scared. He wasn’t wearing a mask after all. Compared to you, he was completely vulnerable.

Before he could say anything, you cut him to it. “No,” you hoarsely managed. “This was a mistake.” You turned around and escaped from the center of the dancefloor. James chased you.

“Wait, please. I’m sorry!” He called out after you.

You slowed your pace when you reached the corner next to the staircase. Then you shook your head with a sight, and you pinched your nose. James could see your furrowed brows.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. But my intention wasn’t to dance with James Potter. It was a mistake. Sorry for wasting your time.”

James shook his head in his turn. “Don’t say that,” his eyes pleaded. “So you know who I am. Am I..” He hesitated. “Am I that bad? I don’t know if you’ve heard any rumors about me, or what made you have a bad impression of me, but I’m the one you’ve been talking to for the past months.” He looked at you desperately. “Give me a chance, please. I only ask for a dance.”

Your eyes flickered over his sad face. You knew James from all the pranks that he did, mostly committed towards your house. You knew him from the banters you had with him, and from crying students that you undid hexes for. You knew him from pushing him out of the way as he purposely blocked your path to throw insults at you.

But you also knew the boy from the enchanted paper. The one who listened to all your worries. Who offered advice and indulged into your hopes and dreams for the future. You knew the boy who confided in you all his deepest secrets and own insecurities. Who made your day and cheered you up with his jokes and positivity.

“I can give you a dance,” you caved, and you offered him your hand, which he scrambled to hold.

James was a fairly decent dance partner, you soon discovered as he guided you with grace. “So I suppose you dance often?”

“I just practiced a lot,” he sheepishly admitted. “I had to impress you somehow, you know. Someone like you had to be crazy out of my league after all.”

Your lips twitched. “I think you’ve got it all backwards, Potter.”

“You know you can call me James, right?”

“Well, James,” you enunciated his name. It felt weird on your tongue. You had only ever spoken his last name in contempt. “I’m not very liked by more than half the students of this castle.” You motioned towards your mask. “Hence the enchantment,” you added halfheartedly.

“You don’t have to tell me who you are,” James immediately assured you, and you did relax at his words. “I’m just really happy that you’re real.”

You let out a laugh. “Why would I not be real?”

“I don’t know,” James whined. “Maybe I was just talking to really sentient paper or something?”

His answer only made you laugh more. James’ grin only spread wider.

“Whoever you are, I wouldn’t judge you,” James added quietly. You watched him silently as you swayed around the room.

“That’d be a first,” you joked sadly, remembering your own family.

“What can I say, I’m just different,” James cheekily winked and then twirled you around.

“We’ll see about that, James. You have the rest of the night to convince me.”

The dance ended and you curtsied to each other, out of breath. “But you’ll have to excuse me while I go find a bench because my feet are killing me. These heels are no joke,” you groaned in pain and sort of started to limp your way back.

James quickly came to support you and held your waist as he escorted you back to the side of the room. When you discovered that there were not in fact any benches, you sat down on the first few steps of the staircase. He raised his eyebrows when you kicked off your heels and saw that the entire slipper was made of glass.

“I transfigured those shoes myself, you know,” you proudly stated. James looked at it in disbelief. “This can carry a human weight?”

“Yeah, it took a lot of different enchantments and attempts,” you admitted.

James’ disbelief changed to awe. He took a seat next to you and you two started chatting about random things. You looked at James’ profile as he talked about Quidditch and felt soft towards him. Maybe he really wasn’t so bad after all.

The two of you were deep into a conversation when you were interrupted .

“Who is this, Prongs?” Sirius curiously stepped forward and shook your hand. You couldn’t help but grimace at him.

You politely nodded and explained the situation, but even though you engaged into a civil, nonchalant conversation, you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at the presence of James’ friends.

“Anyways,” Sirius leans in towards James. “Did you see Snape over there?” He nodded his head towards Snape, and you squinted your eyes at the boy in front of you.

“You’re not thinking of doing anything to him, are you,” you sharply asked. Both James and Sirius were taken aback by your new tone.

“Nothing harmful,” Sirius laughed, but it faded when you simply raised your eyebrows at him. Sirius looked towards James for help. James hesitated. He had been reluctant to indulge Sirius’ ideas ever since his conversation with you about being a twat. But Sirius was his friend.

“We’re just having a bit of fun,” James tried to explain. “We’re just joking around, besides, he’s in Slytherin, so definitely a blood supremacist.” Your face fell at his words.

You watched his features contort in disgust and suddenly you were eleven again, and all you could see was your sisters disgusted face.

By the time you had snapped out of it, Sirius was already making his way towards Snape. James had gotten up and his head flickered between you and his friend.

You got up as well.

“I really thought you’d be different, James.” You scoffed to yourself. “You really had me convinced there for a moment. But I understand that you’re really just a bully after all, blinded by prejudice. You really are a twat.”

James’ heart dropped at hearing you say those words. He felt ashamed and shook his head pleadingly as he searched for words. But the thing is, you couldn’t care less, because you were hurt too. So you turned around and fled up the stairs as fast as you could, just in case he would come after you.

“Hey Prongs, you coming or not?” Sirius called out. James looked back at Sirius as he contemplated his next move. He mouthed ‘no’, and then tried to run after you. But by the time he reached the hallway that you had disappeared to, you were nowhere in sight.

In denial, James ran towards the moving staircases and looked up, in hopes to find you there.

Had he looked down, maybe he would have caught the last shimmer of reflection of the diamonds on your dress.

James refused to give up, however and he started to knock on the paintings, hoping that they could tell him where you went. He just had to apologize.

A symphony of protests and yelling echoed within the hall. “Quiet you!” “Have you no respect for the sleeping?” “I will complain to Filch about this, young man!” “Leave us alone!”

When the voices resided, most portraits were empty, their contents having escaped elsewhere.

Defeated, James groaned and hit his head with his fists. “You stupid git!” he yelled out in frustration at himself. James slouched down to sit on the stairs. Then he reached for the parchment and a pen in the inner pocket of his jacket and started scrambling something down.

“Please answer,” he whispered. He almost had to laugh at how pathetic he must look.

You sat on your bed after having made your way to the Slytherin dorms.

I’m sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know why I said that. I’m stupid and I ruined everything. Please let me make it up to you. I enjoy being with you, I don’t want you to think of me like this.

Like I said before, this was clearly a mistake.

James read your words over and over again and he buried his face in his hands in shame. He stayed there for a long while and by the time he returned to the room, the party was over, and people had started returning to bed. On the left side of the staircase were your enchanted glass slippers precisely where you’d kicked the off and left them.

Preview of part two

Part two

Taglist:

@bath1lda @lilianelena39 @quackitysdrugdealer @princessprongs @clumsyassbitch @thecraziestcrayon @themoonofeternity @ttkttt @rentaldarling @handybrownpurse @elsie-bells

@charlie-weasley-is-underrated @dreamingofmarauders @moonyslibrary98 @wildernessflora @hollandweather @queerqueenlynn @locklyebrainrot @thisrandombitch @grac3aph3lion @earfquak3 @venomsvl @middle-of-the-earth @shrekscrustybudassy @bettytaylorversion @littlepoisonmushroom @faumpje @iloveutwice @katelebate @moonysupremacy01 @marina468 @fangirl-kimora @bellesowl @badasswlthafatass @sjprongs @armydrcamers @its-a-ittle-bit-cold @ireallywannasleep127 @sayukoi @jsjcue @cashtons-wife @idllyastuff @severegiantjudgefriend @ivy-34 @moonyunebi @caspianobsessed @kquil @moonys-luvr @mindflay3r @nokkoongie

#james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #james potter angst #james potter x fem!reader #marauders era #marauders #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter oneshot #marauder x reader #young james potter

4K notes · View notes

undercoverpena · 5 months

Text

it means something

joel miller x f!reader | masterlist

summary: compliments don’t fall from his tongue, but they drip from his eyes. They land on your skin, healing scars that don’t show; they make you glow, and feel like something worth choosing.

to @joelsflannel, i took aspects of all your prompts. i tried to make it fluffy, her a little romantic, i tried to give you a quote that i hope you adore, with a man i know you already love. and i sprinkled in a hard day for you, but with some stress-easing fun to unwind with. merry christmas <;3

wordcount: 3.2k warnings: softer!joel, soft sex (p in v), talks of love, jackson era joel, mentions of ellie, joel in a towel (like damn). written for @pedrostories secret santa event.

You’re tired, drained.

Somehow, you find yourself able to drag your feet from the livelier part of Jackson to the quieter, almost more peaceful part. The soles of your boots draw lines behind you, all of which will likely be covered by the newly settling snow within the hour.

It's picturesque, this place. The kind of location you expect would have once been on postcards that people would be sent to loved ones saying 'wish you were here'.

You don't have to wish.

If your eyes weren’t like pinholes, you’d take a second to admire it.

Stamp your boots in one spot, and enjoy the crunch of it under your feet. A thing you’d do on any other day, if not for the fact, that you were so ready to be in the warmth, to be with him—to curl into him and breathe in his scent.

The kind of scent which buries itself into your nose, to your soul. It wraps its fingers around you and digs its clutches into you. Not that you complain. You'd bathe in it if you could, happily letting him smear it over your skin whenever the two of you have the chance.

It’s why you continue to move. It's why you force one leg in front of the other, muscles begging for reprieve.

By the time you’re up the steps, fingers wrapping around the handle of the front door, you realise how badly you wish to shed your layers. Desiring nothing more than to slide out of your coat, unwrap your scarf, remove the hat, gloves and second pair of socks.

Twisting the handle, the door doesn't fight letting you inside. Instead, it welcomes you. Allowing you to move quickly inside, more than anyone would expect from someone so fatigued—removing the layers, hanging each in turn on the rack beside his.

A sight which tugs at something inside you. It loops its fingers around that feeling within, gently pulling—it is all warm, unexplainable; all hard to describe, but the closest word is lovely, nice—welcomed.

That feeling had been born before the end of days, but it had been nothing but an ember then. Now, it was a roaring fire, all lit by him.

You're sure he knows. Not that either of you talk about it. It added to the long list of things you never speak, not for his sake, but for yours.

Even when you first began your… thing with him, you’d found it as difficult as him to know what to call it. Especially, when it had all happened so randomly, with no explanation or sight that it would occur. It just did.

Smiling, you allow yourself a moment to think back to it. How warm it was. How the setting sun smudged an array of shades across the sky, how you'd been bitter about something, mumbling under your breath until a noise cut through your dismay. His laughter. All gruff and born from his throat. It had expelled into the space between the two of you, cut through your bad mood.

Because it had been louder than you’d ever heard it as the two of you walked back, as you did on so many other nights. But that night had felt so different—and it was.

One moment you were staring, and the next his lips found yours, all chapped, but soft. His fingers around your cheek, whispering your name so gently. Stroking your skin, all worn, a bit rough.

Now, the two of you are a habit. A routine.

Nothing has ever been discussed, nothing ever exchanged. Just some nights you ate dinner with him—knee pressed against his. Sometimes your things sat along his in his home, bobby pins and whatever book you were reading.

Some days Ellie let herself into your house, had made a bedroom out of one of your spares, and sometimes she asked if you wanted to come round to theirs.

The only constant thing is that at least once every week, your limbs found themselves tangled with his. His mouth latched itself onto your neck, hand grasping at your breast, fingers pinching the peak of your nipple as he gruffly told you how hard you’d gotten him.

You liked it. Craved it.

Enjoyed the way you took him apart as he focused on making you a mess.

You liked seeing his salt and pepper curls cling to his forehead, liked running your nails through the hair on the back of his neck—back arched into him, feeling fuller than you’d ever imagined you could. Hearing his gruff voice in your ear, saying words he'd never say if he wasn't buried to the hilt inside of you.

But then, you only call him Joel when he's between your thighs too.

"Miller?"

His name rings around the first floor of the house.

Checking the package in your pocket, you sigh as the day drips from your tight muscles. Hand moving to rub the back of your neck, staring at Ellie's half-open comic and the pencils you'd lent her over the table.

You knew she wouldn't reply, not when tonight was movie night. A Christmas one, she'd told you. She had already let it slip she was going, told you as she kept watch on the door so you could continue your surprise for him.

Her request for you to join her faded when you looked up at her, likely seeing the same look which now greets you in the dust-covered mirror.

Kicking off your boots, and removing one layer of socks, you sigh at the way your feet can all of a sudden breathe—even inside his thick socks. Wiggling your toes, you smile as you begin to curl and unfurl them, before your hand finds the bannister, dragging yourself up the stairs until you reach his room.

His empty room.

Heart falling, you consider calling out again. Using his first name this time—letting each of the four letters carry around the house.

But, his bed looks comfortable. It calling to you. Somehow finding yourself lying on it, your face pressed into his sheets, your bones and muscles sighing in relief that you're in a bed.

Eyes wishing to flutter shut, body unwinding against the mattress, the sheets. It’s on the third heavy exhale, do you realise you hear water. It falls in pitters and patters, distantly, likely from the bathroom across the hall.

That’s when a smile curls across your face because you’ve always found comfort in the sound of running water.

Whether it’s rivers or rain, and showers or leaks. It reminds you of calmness, of things fading from reach—washing away, starting anew. Memories of times trying to colour themselves in your mind, fading before they do as sleep tries to coax you away.

The only thing which displaces the grip sleep has on you, is the comforting sight that comes to a stop at the foot of the bed.

Steam swirling around him, all broad shoulders and still damp skin—the hair on his chest, arms, and stomach, clinging in half-swirled curls and straight lines, the towel clutched at his hip.

The first time you saw Joel Miller naked, you’d almost lost the function to speak. All man—all soft and muscle simultaneously. Something constructed from fantasies, made in real life, carved and moulded by hands you think never thought he’d be real. You were close to not being able to speak all over again now.

Eyes tracing, outlining and shading—squirrelling away a sketch of him you’ll think about when the other side of the bed is cold and not filled with him.

“Didn’t hear you come in.”

You hum, lifting up onto your elbows, admiring him, finding him doing the same—even if you suspect you’re not half as good-looking right now as he is.

Least of all when he takes your ankle in hand, moving you sideways with him as steps between your legs now hanging off the bed, the fabric of his towel brushing over your jeans, his palms coming down on the mattress on either side of your neck, staring at you with a look of concern.

“Y’not been sleepin’?”

“Just been busy,” you reply, arms looping around his neck. “Not lots of time to rest.”

You suppose at some point between summer and winter, things became soft—less about need and company, and something along the lines of real.

In another world, one not ridden with fungi and death, you suppose it would have been labelled, added something which tied the two of you together—something meaning more to others than it likely would do to you.

Smiling, you force your eyes to open properly. Watching that look of hunger slowly bleed out over the concern, vanishing entirely when you smirk. If the two of you were different, you suspect you'd tell him you miss him. Tell him you've thought about him.

Instead, you whisper, “Want you, Joel.”

Even more so when you trace the words over his mouth. Aware of his hands on your jeans, and how he's popped open the button, how he's dragging down the zipper. The fabric freely slides from your skin as your hands slide down, dropping to the towel at his waist—thumb digging over it, all ready to pull, unravel it. “Need you.”

His eyes narrow swallowed in darkness. “Yeah?”

Nodding, you roll your lips, dragging your fingers to the tuck, undoing it, not taking your eyes off him. Seeing something in his eyes that is more than just reciprocation of the words spoken, but the ones left unsaid.

“You want me?”

However, you’ll have me.

You’re not sure you speak it, but you're sure he hears it all the same.

For how aloof people think he is, he’s a man who listens—not just to the crunch of branches and the rustle of trees, but to the things people don’t say. He hears their secrets and pulls away their lies. Skills he told you one night he levelled up in when the world tried to keep taking more than it had already.

You suppose it’s how he knows you, your body, what you want and what you crave.

More so as he tangles his tongue with yours, all heady—gripping him firm, tightly as his fingers snake between the two of you. Desperation thrumming through your fingers as you push them into his skin, into his muscles—feeling the coil tighten as he moves his fingers with nothing short of precision. Knowing you, having mapped you out, learnt your cues—it’s why you don’t fight it, the incoming wave ready to drench your taut muscles, let him undo you, unravel you out so you’re nothing but spread out for him.

He likes it like that, you can tell. Likes how you surrender to him, how you lay out for him, letting him move you how he needs you.

It used to be rough, desperate—pure carnal. But, it’s been replaced by something else, something not soft or romantic, but you’re sure it’s a distant relative.

Once you’d gotten a bruise on your hip that pulsed, shifted in shades from being nudged against your kitchen table. Now when he leaves them, he traces them with his thumb, hoping to suck out the sting. Because now you’re treated to comfort—too recently washed bedding and his fingers inside your cunt as your body bends into him, practically curls, sings, hums.

“Always so fuckin’ tight for me.”

Compliments don’t fall from his tongue, but they drip from his eyes. They land on your skin, healing scars that don’t show. Each lick of his gaze makes you glow, and feel like something worth choosing, having been picked, plucked—and placed on some mantle you don’t even mind being perched on.

Wrapping your fingers around his wrist, breathing a struggle, practically gasping, you mumble his name—murmur it, almost a whine. “Fuck me now, Joel. Want you inside of me.”

Then, you’re overwhelmed.

Bathed in both the scent of fresh soap, dewy skin and absolute fullness. Your legs wrapping, crossing at the ankles as he slides into the hilt—pausing, just as he always does, fingers brushing over your jaw until he’s tilting your chin.

That same look—the one you first witnessed after the kiss under the dusk.

It doesn’t vanish until you show him, either in a whisper of the magic words or a movement he can read as a spell. Your hips rolling, rocking—please, please.

Your hands take in the feel of him breathing, the way his chest expands, fills with the knowledge, the realisation, nails digging, almost all in order. One he answers, delivers, fucking stamps.

Joel makes your toes curl, makes white noise appear in your ears, and makes you forget every important thing you’ve ever filed away. All hot, scorching against your skin as you grasp him closer, hoping you’ll be smothered in burns—hoping the same when you swallow his grunts, his hisses off your name. His hips pistoning, aiming to send you over the edge before him, hands—riddled with the evidence of his survival and his new hobby keep you rooted, don’t allow you to wander off into bliss without him.

“Too good f’me, sweetheart.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he grunts, right against your pulse, before he licks against what beats under your skin.

You snort amidst your whine, clutching all the strings which keep you whole as you close your eyes—banish him from looking into your soul. He’s seen all there is there, let him in before, provided flashes, evidence of your shattered soul and broken mentality. It comes to the surface easier here, when your walls suck him in, and your body calls for him in a chorus of pleading and begging.

Because you’re close—not needing too much from him tonight, the sight of him is enough. The knowledge of his existence, knowing he’s yours without confirmation.

“There, right there,” you moan, heels digging into the base of his back, feeling the jostle of him, the way he rears and fucks.

He smirks, shifting, just enough to make the head of his cock hit the spot which makes your thighs shake, tremble, fucking quake. His mouth still split open, words there on his tongue, all ready to drape over your skin—

But, you just feel it’s incoming arrival. All white-hot, blinding—too much pressure, yet needing just a little bit more. Your body is not yours, mind empty, gone, faded. You want to sink your teeth into him, bite down, cut into him and leave a mark like the ones he leaves inside you each time the two of you do this.

Because it means something. This. The two of you in this little house in fucking Jackson. Doesn’t it? Doesn’t it?

“Yea’,” he grunts, palm on your face, tilting you up roughly, forcing your eyes to open.

And you swear he smiles when they flash open. You swear it.

“Means somethin’, sweetheart. This—fuck—us.”

The words grind into you. As though he's the pestle and your mortar. Your breath is lost, unable to be grasped, your body hanging, pleasure a bigger force—swallowing the room, casting you in shadows and misting over you—until you cry out. Squeezing, fluttering.

Not able to see anything but his face, the look on his face—the twisted expression of his lips and the deepness of his eyes. More black, than brown—but they’re somehow still soft, still full of something you hope is pleasant and full of emotions.

It only vanishes briefly when he spills inside of you.

When he collapses on top of you—his heart hammering against your ribs. And, even if it isn’t the first time, you feel yourself still—pause, no rash movements, because this is nice, this is something you want without asking for it.

“Can’t believe I can hear y’brain already.”

Snorting, you roll your eyes, glancing over—finding his lips have slid into his cheek.

It gnaws at you, the reason for your lack of sleep. The thing which you've traded hours of rest for. That dormant part pushed to the edge by exhaustion, now awake and very much worrying.

“Got you something,” you whisper, biting your lip, watching his brows furrow and lines appear between them.

Standing up, you steal the dressing gown from the back of his door—the one you’d traded for months ago. The one which is far too big, even for him, making it only cosier when you borrow it. Shooting him a smile, you almost disguise it, worried it's far too soft, too normal, before you mumble about being right back.

It's a hurry to the front door, all feet hammering down on wooden steps before your hand digs in your coat pocket, retrieving the wrapped thing you’ve lost shuteye over.

When you enter, he’s under the sheets—hair at odd angles, looking both a mixture of energised and fucked out that you wish you could paint with your fingers, so you'd forever have it.

“Didn’t wanna give this to you on the 25th—just in case you popped a vein trying to figure out what it means.”

Kneeling on the bed, you take a levelling breath, before handing it to him. His eyes travelling from you to it, fingers taking it—all delicate, measured. Before he unpeels the ribbon, undressing it with more care than he often shows you, before it rolls free of the paper you managed to find. It catches the ceiling light, glinting, gleaming, the handle looking even more detailed in this light than under the candles you’d had to use to remain discreet.

In your hand, the knife had appeared large, and menacing. In his, it looked right.

Yet, his face looked as though it was anything but.

Enough for you to prod, needle. To nudge closer on your knees, to smooth out the sheets and then flick your lashes up, finding him already staring, weighing it up—whatever coated his tongue, had been written in his mind.

“Sweetheart… I don’t… I don’t deserve this—”

More words fall in silence, not quite spoken, yet somehow loud.

Enough for you to say his name, to rest your knee on the bed and deeply sigh.

“You…’m not a good man.”

You almost laugh, but you don’t. Crawling up, placing your hand on his chest, you take a shaky breath. “I’m not sure I care.”

And you don't.

Because it's easy to feel something for him, to love him. It's natural, there one day and the day after. It wasn't hard or difficult, but very fucking easy.

Your mouth even opens to say as much, but you close it again before a syllable is muttered.

Wrapping the gift, he moves it from between the two of you, to the bedside table. His fingers linger, hovering over the carved wood—the one which caused splinters and made your eyes almost cross over. “Y’should. M’not an easy man to love.”

“I disagree,” you whisper, fingers having slid up to the base of his neck, your fingers teasing his curls. “Since I’m pretty sure I already feel those things for you.”

His brows lift, and you smile—letting it speak the words you can’t say, and you’re sure he’s not willing to hear.

“Don’t sweat it, alright? You’re mine, I’m yours. Yeah?”

Nodding, he bites his cheek, placing the knife back into the packaging—moving it, replacing what he’d been holding with your wrist as he pulls you close.

“Got you somethin’ too.”

Nose bumping his, you shift closer, thighs finding themselves on either side of him—his hands finding a place on them, sliding up, callouses grazing on your skin, before squeezing.

“But y’gotta wait until the 25th. Like a good girl.”

Smirking, you cup his cheeks. "Okay, Miller. I'll wait."

an: merry christmas, i hope you love this <3

#pedrostoriesgift23 #pedrostories #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x female reader smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou joel x reader

1K notes · View notes

bonny-kookoo · 6 months

Text

Jungkook

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Intro🔞

Unrequited love can be oh-so painful, especially as a hopeless romantic like Jeon Jungkook. You're supposed to just momentarily soothe his aching heart and take his mind off of things- but something about you just draws him in...

Tags/Warnings: Punk!Jungkook, strangers to lovers, Stereotypes, description of Unrequited love, romance, accidental flirting, some angst, major fluff, smut

Length: 2k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: this was supposed to be an angsty oneshot. Thanks to @euphoricfilter I decided to make it a softer series instead.

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook doesn't really know you.

He knows that you don't like wearing pants, which is why you wear a simple cotton dress tonight despite the weather outside. You layered a sweater over it, and you wear fluffy overknee socks and boots- everything cute, a little oversized, giving you an overall soft appearance. He also knows that you don't really want to be here, that you accompanied a friend but that she went to make out with some boy she had her eyes on the entire night. And he knows your age, your name, and that you have a very nice voice.

A voice currently whimpering against his ear, as he holds your thighs to keep you propped up against the wall while he thrusts his hips into you. He didn't really think much of it when you suggested this, and he definitely didn't think much of it when he agreed- after all, looks are just looks, down the line, and just because you don't look the part doesn't mean you can't be a little wild.

What he did not expect was for you to turn out to taste so sweet- the entire ordeal of just a quick fuck feeling like something much more than he's used to. You're supposed to just take his mind off of his long time crush currently probably getting railed in the car outside- and you're doing much more than that.

It’s like you’re giving him something entirely new to think about. Like you’re someone capable of filling her place in his head.

Your hands on his shoulders, fingers digging into his leather jacket. The warm skin of your thighs, feeling just so good in his hands. And not to mention that clench of your core around his length, making him feel sensitive even despite the condom he wears.

"What if you just find someone else, too?" You'd wondered at him at the bar earlier, cheek a little squished as you rested your face on one of your hands, looking at him. "She clearly doesn't want you from what I can tell. So stop pining after someone who doesn't see you." You'd boldly stated, throwing the bucket of cold water over his head- shaking him awake, in a way, because no one's really put it out in the open like that to him up until you. It's tough to hear it, but it's the truth- and you're right.

He needed a distraction. And you seemed to be the perfect opportunity.

Lucy had always kept him close- dangling him from a string in front of her heart, never letting him reach it- because it had always been closed off, her interest more in what she could gain from him, and not what she could give him as well. She clearly only really kept him close so he could do things for her- help her move, build up furniture, take care of her cat multiple times a week, even buy her things. Jungkook paid for her rent for half a year- simply because he wanted to show her that he was in it with a full and honest heart.

He wanted her to see him. But just like you said, she doesn't. Because she doesn't want to see him. She doesn't want him.

"And where would I find someone else?" Jungkook had asked, eyes finding yours as you'd shrugged.

"Can't promise you a mind-blowing experience-" You'd told him, one of your legs moving forward to playfully kick his boot. "-but I'm right here."

And right here you are.

You smell really nice- he realizes that as he rests his head in the crook of your neck, your skin flushed and hot against his lips. He's not sure why he feels almost guilty taking you like this- you seem more like someone who deserves a romantic date night and then a good long slow-fuck in an actual bedroom, not some underground club storage room. You're currently single, and he knows that from you as well, but he's sure that you won't have any trouble finding someone in the near future.

Though the thought of it makes him a little.. Upset, almost. Jealous?

"You close?" He growls into your neck, and you simply nod in response, making him chuckle. You seemed so nonchalant about the whole thing, but you're actually kind of cute in this moment. He's, despite his looks, not one to usually do these kinds of things- he's a romantic, even if it's more of an unconventional one. He craves something real and authentic, something that knocks the breath out of his lungs and swallows his heart whole.

Huh.

Maybe under different circumstances, you could've been just that for him. He can imagine falling for you if you'd met sooner, or in a different situation- you seem very nice, with a laid back personality added to it. Your pretty face and pretty body is just an added bonus- and he feels a bit disappointed knowing he'll never see you fully nude.

What could you be hiding underneath those clothes?

For sure something to be worshipped, a body meant to be made love to and not this right now. But you're already at the end, as he bites his lips and pushes you over the edge, your fingers clawing at his leather jacket as you weakly whimper out in pleasure, his own high a lot softer than yours. That doesn't mean it's any less fulfilling- in fact it's a pretty damn good one, drawn out, making the muscles in his thighs stutter a bit as he holds you up for a bit longer, before he slowly sets you back down to your feet.

You avoid looking at him now. He wonders if you regret it.

But is that really any of his business?

"Okay?" He asks, much to his own surprise as he helps you stand, music dull, bass almost the only thing you can both hear as he strips the condom off and finds some tissues to clean himself up- giving some to you as well. You take them silently, and clean yourself up, watching him throw everything into a trash bin nearby. It's only now that you seem to take a look around the small storage room you're both in, before you pull up your underwear, cringing at the odd feeling in your legs. "You good?" Jungkook chuckles- but you still don't look at him, simply nod before you seem to adjust yourself. How do you really feel about this?

It's none of his business. So why does he feel like it is?

"Do you.. I don't know, do you want me to drive you home?" He wonders. "If your friend isn't back, I mean." He adds, and you shrug.

"Yeah." You tell him almost indifferently, before he nods, and leads you back outside, music suddenly loud and clear again. "but.. I think I can see here over there." You mumble, as Jungkook adjusts the back of your clothes for you, something he didn't even notice doing until his hands were already on you. There's something.. odd about you. A strange attraction, almost.

He's not sure if it's just post-sex-attachment, or if it's genuine interest.

“She seems awfully... occupied though.” Jungkook chuckles, watching together with you how she pretty much doesn’t seem to care that she’s basically getting undressed by the guy on the dancefloor. “I’ll wait with you at the bar if you’d like.” He suggests, and you shake your head, visibly disappointed.

“No.” You deny. “Just..” You pull your little bag a little tighter over your shoulder. “..I changed my mind. Take me home, please.” You ask without looking at him, and he nods quietly, a hand on your shoulder leading you outside.

His car is a little old, but the interior is clean and smells nice. He instantly turns the heat on, making sure you’re comfortable, radio playing quietly in the background while you click your phone into the holder, the navigation app having started to show him the journey to your home. “Oh? We don’t live that far apart.” He notices, as he pulls out of the parking lot in front of the club. “I live near the subway station, where that weird store is. The one where that old lady sells healing crystals and shit like that.” He attempts to smalltalk, and you nod.

“Yeah, I know that one.” You answer. “My mom used to be friends with the woman that owns the shop..” You shrug.

“Oh, cool.” He offers. “I don’t really believe in that stuff, but each their own.” He tells you.

“I don’t believe in it either.” You admit. “But my mom does, so I just.. Pretend I do. I don’t like to fight with her.” You say, looking out the window to see it starting to rain a little.

“You seem like someone who doesn’t like arguments.” He chuckles. “Which is a compliment, by the way.” He makes sure to underline. “Can I ask why you.. Seem so sad right now?”

“Sure you can.” You say, before you look back at your hands in your lap. “It’s.. She does it a lot. My friend, I mean.” You admit, before you sigh. “I feel like she’s just.. I don’t know. Like I’m just a placeholder, good enough when there’s no one else around.”

“Hm, I get what you mean.” He answers. “Some people are shit like that. My mom used to marry and divorce like she was aiming for a world record.” He laughs easily, stopping at a red light. “Some people just can’t be alone. It eats them up- so they take whatever company they can, and love too easily.” Jungkook explains.

“But where’s the love in that?” You mumble almost too quiet for him to catch, looking out the window again where two children run through the rain after what you believe might be their mother holding a yellow umbrella.

“For some, that’s love.” He shrugs. “It’s different for anybody. My definition of love probably is different from yours, and that’s fine too.” He offers.

“I don’t even know.. What it is.” You sigh, defeated in your tone. “I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like.”

“You’ll know when it happens, trust me.” He tries to lift your mood. “Maybe we can.. I don’t know. Stay in touch, hang around together. I promise I might look like it but I’m not involved in any drug-related drama.” He laughs. “But all you need might just be a good friendgroup, a nice social circle. And I promise my friends are all cool, even though they’re all guys. They’re all in relationships- well, apart from me, but you know why that issue exists.” He chuckles.

“You shouldn’t let her use you anymore, you know?” You say quietly, as the surrounding area outside the car becomes familiar. “You’re.. Too nice for someone like that.” You say, as he parks in front of the apartment building your phone exclaims is your destination of choice. You reach over to take your phone from the plastic holder, when you notice Jungkook watching you intently, before he speaks.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, and you look at him with wide eyes, interior lights of his car reflecting in them, making him even more eager to find out how it’ll feel like if you gave him the chance. You shrug, before you nod, visibly confused, while his eyes roam around your face, as if they can’t decide what feature of yours to focus on.

Everything looks too magical right now. Like some cheesy romantic drama.

He’s not sure if he likes it or not.

But as his hand reaches out to help angle your face right to place his lips against yours, he’s surely enough made his decision, sweet lipbalm of yours fruity on his tongue as he fails to keep his cool, leaning over further, both of your eyes closed as you get lost in the whole action- though he finally has to break free, the moment enough to cut the spell you both have been under.

“Well fuck me.” He starts to laugh. “Now I’ll definitely need your number.” he jokes, as he takes out his phone to do just that, your fingers typing in the numbers of your phone, your heart still racing in your chest.

All while his words keep repeating in your head.

'You'll know when it happens, trust me.'

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fanfic

924 notes · View notes

httpdwaekki · 2 months

Text

soothe | h.j.

summary: you were well aware of jisung's anxiety, but you notice he takes a certain interest in the ink on your skin.

wc: 966

warnings: brief mentions of anxiety, mentions of the reader having tattoos. not proofread at all. lowercase intended.

a/n: i used to color and trace my tattoos when i got anxious so i was just thinking about ji doin the same thing. also it is very late and i'm running on a solid 4 hours of sleep but i wanted to write something so now we have this LMAO. anyway i hope u enjoy and as always, drink water, eat something, and take ur meds. <3

my library

(pictures are not mine! credit to owners!)

you were well aware of jisung's anxiety. you yourself suffered from it so you understood, the feelings and frustrations that came along with the sinking feel.

you weren't always sure what would trigger the uneasy feeling in the boy, but you were there no matter what. you knew sometimes you just had to put on an anime and hold him until he felt better.

other times you'd sit and listen as he voiced this thoughts running rampant in his head.

however there was something new that you noticed you would lay with him. he'd trace the ink along your skin, drawing every line and every shading etched into your soft skin.

you noticed it when you were laying on your bed one day when the ugly feeling settled in his tummy once again. jisung was in front of you, his back to your chest, yours leaning against the head board, arms wrapped loosely around his torso, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on his stomach.

jisung was barely paying attention the show lowly playing on the screen. not that you were either, hyper focused to gage any change in his demeanor, making sure he was relaxing.

that's when you felt it, the soft brush on your arm, right where your favorite flower was inked into the skin of your forearm. you glance down, watching for a moment, as he traced the lines one by one before moving on to the next section of art.

you couldn't help the heat the rose to your cheek, as he careful recreated the marks so beautifully etched onto your skin. as you watched you had an idea. you place a soft kiss to his hair before lightly tapping his tummy.

"get up for a second bub, i'm gonna grab something quick." you felt him tense, turning his head towards you, hesitating for a moment. "i'll be right back jagiya, i promise. less than 2 minutes." he slightly nodded before sitting up. you place a kiss on his shoulder as you scoot out from behind him.

quickly making your way to your office, you find exactly what you were looking for. you quickly grab it, making your way back to your room. you find jisung in the same place you left him, expect he looked zoned out, toying with the strings of his hoodie.

you sit beside him, placing a gentle hand to his puffy cheek. you looks up, boba eyes shining with worry. you could practically see the thoughts clouding his pretty mind. you give him a smile before placing the bag of colorful markers in his lap.

he looks down at the bag and back to you, confusion now present in his eyes. "so you could color them in if you want." you shrugged, getting up, kissing his forehead before moving to lay behind him once more.

you lightly pull him back into your embrace, arms finding home around him once more. his head positioned on your collarbone, under your chin, relaxing into your touch.

a few moments later you hear the sound of plastic rustling and the familiar sound of markers clashing against each other. once he found the color he was looking for, quietly taking the top off, and begin carefully coloring each one in.

you had a perfect view at his art from above him. your other hand continuing the soothing circles on the skin of his stomach. you smile and you watch him go from coloring to watching the tv. you place a kiss to his hair once more, as he finishes coloring in your ghost. he caps the marker, placing it back in the bag, before carefully setting the colorful ink on your bedside table.

he turns around as he makes his return to you, his turn to wrap his arms around you. you gladly take him into your arms as he shoves his face into your neck. you stay there for a moment before he places a kiss in the junction of you neck and shoulder.

"you okay, ji?" you asked softly. he nods, "i'm okay baby, thank you." he gives you one more squeeze before pulling back.

"what would i do without you, hm?" he asks, placing peck to your lips. your lip turn upwards slightly, "i'm just helping you, jagi, you deserve to be happy." he kisses you once more, this time with a bit more passion.

"you're gonna make me start crying." he mumbles against your plush lips. "okay well don't do that, cause that'd make me sad." you shake your head. "how about i order us some take out and we just stay like this for the rest of the night?" you offer, staring into his boba eyes.

"and if you wanna talk later, i'm here to listen okay?" he nods, falling back into your embrace. "i love you okay? i'm always here, whenever, where ever, you say the word i'm there." you place a kiss to the side of his head.

you feel his breathing start to become uneven, panic arising in your chest. "ji? hey, hey, talk to me baby." you pull him back to look at you. big eyes now brimmed with tears. "what's going on in that head of yours, hm?" ask, rubbing his cheeks.

he shakes his head. "nothing, i just really fucking love you. i don't know what i ever did to deserve you." he says, tears slowly making their way down his face.

"you're you, you deserve everything i can give you and more, okay?" he closes his eyes, nodding his head. you place kisses over each eye lid and finally his forehead.

you pull him back to you, and that's where you stay for the rest of the night. wrapped up in each other, eating ramen before falling asleep in each other's arms.

p.s. new username ah !! i used to be voidreams but i wanted a change hehe. but i hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are always appreciated but never expected :3

#han jisung #han jisung x reader #han jisung fic #han jisung imagine #han jisung fluff #stray kids #skz #stray kids imagine #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids fic #hurt/comfort #tw: anxiety

495 notes · View notes

hwajin · 11 months

Text

— look at me, look at me. you're looking?

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ✦ :: — lee minho | 4k follower event

genre: smut

pairing: minho x gn!reader

req

send me a request!

"Yeah, keep your eyes on- on me babe, look- look at me."

Struggling to find his voice yet he attempted to keep his composure. Minho would never admit to have lost control long ago, over his body, over his mind, over the entirety of the affair he had initiated.

"Touch yourself while watching me jerk off."

Words had cut deep into the air, had emptied your lungs off any oxygen. They had come so casually, so without remorse and you grew shy, embarrassed in Minho's place, him seemingly missing any sense of shame.

His hand, now visible, now not hidden within the confines of his jean but on full display for you, wandered up and down his length, slow and torturous strokes you knew had him breaking sweat, had him seeing stars. Knew he needed more than what he was giving himself and knew you could provide it, though you stayed in your place, back against the headrest of the bed, legs spread sinfully wide before him — if you'd been embarrassed before you sure weren't now, despite the situation surely called for it. And yet, watching your boyfriend's breath hitch in his throat, watching him pull up the hem of his shirt, reveiling tensed up v-line and spasming torse, watching him throw his head back into his neck, against the rest of the chair, delicate veins painting his skin in purple and blue. You wished to paint that neck in yet brighter colours, wished to claw your teeth into silken skin, breaking the barrier, bruising the body.

Your head lulled sideways, own thoughts overwhelming and your eyes rolled back, fingers on your heat quickening in pace, chasing a high, or chasing more, or chasing the touch of another, of him, altogether. Long forgotten about his order, eyes neither on his own nor on his body now, sheer inability to keep them anything but closed stroke through you like buzzing lighting. You were close, dangerously so, chasing and chasing after something you knew only he could give you. Only he could truly provide you.

You sensed shuffling from across you, heard nearing steps and a muffled curse beneath breath, felt hands on your body, finally, eventually, like sweet release in itself, like salvation only he could grant. Your eyes opened momentarily, catching his in surprise, surprising further at the darkness laced within them — he wasn't angry yet determined, grip on you a solid one, all ten cups of his fingers digging into your skin, leaving dents and marks and possible bruises to awe at the next day. Erection prodding against slit, against filthy wetness, eliciting sounds you shyed away from — maybe you did find yourself embarrassed after all, with the newfound touch of his on your skin, with the newfound realisation of your utter neediness, of your desperation, pathetic, almost. Skin blushing, cheeks red and Minho's hand found a place on them, holding your face steady, puckering your lips slightly in the process.

"Told you to look at me, d- didn't I."

Tip prodding at your entrance before he pushed into you, slowly though unexpectadely deep that you nothing but arched into his body and whimpered out in longing, in oversensitivity, in pleasure overwhelming. Receiving a chuckle in response, thrusts of his hips against yours, faster now, more urgent — he was as impatient as you, as egged up, as eager, as edged; he needed release nearly as much as yourself, any plans he'd planted beforehand thrown over board, instincts taking over instead. He wasn't normally one to lose himself, so only drawing a reaction more needing, more wanting out of you — he did lose control now, due to you, because of you and your body, and you clawed onto him, hands on his shoulders, eyes on his ones, his grip never allowing you to convert gaze.

And your faces were contorted. Brows scrunched and eyes frantic, lips laced in sweat and bitten red, bitten bloody. And it didn't take much longer for you, clenching around him in butterfly flaps, voice pitching higher, pleas foaming off your mouth — you had nearly reached what you'd chased, and you could only hope Minho to bring you all the way towards the finish line.

"That's it baby, look at me while you come around me— fuck. Look at me."

Complying though it was a harder task than given — your eyes dared to lose themselves if you didn't focus enough, and you nearly closed them when your high hit you like a loaded truck, weight on your shoulders and pressure in your stomach releasing, body contracting against his own, eyes hooded and milky, thoroughly fucked out as you kept your gaze on him, obediently.

And if he hadn’t lost control already he had now, surely, watching you, watching your eyes lace in pleasure, in satisfaction greater than anything you’d ever known before him, his own thrusts grew static, lowest grunts rolling over and past his lips, and you felt him fill you moments later, hot release within your stomach, within the depths of you, daring to spill out, to stain thigh and sheets and mattress. Panting the both of you, hand yet on your jaw, gazes yet connected – not planning to separate any time soon.

@felixinameadowandthesuniswarm @es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @lix-ables @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut

#lee know smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #lee know imagines #lee know x reader #lee know scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader

1K notes · View notes

lingeriae · 10 months

Text

DEEP

synopsis - being fuck buddies with geto suguru has got to be one of the worst(best) decision you have ever made, especially since you have feelings for said man. ( inspired by deep by summerwalker)

warnings! - cursing, smut, use of n-word, fwb to lovers-ish, angst, fluff, happy ending (or it there?).

parings - geto suguru x black! reader

You try not to make eye-contact with the male infront of you, his arms crossed over his chest as he slouched spreading out his long legs infront of him. From the eyes glaring into your skull, you could tell he was staring at you and he couldn't care less if anyone noticed how hard he was staring.

He looked good, and you had no doubt he smelled good either although you hadn't been all up on him to know if that was true or not.

But Suguru always smelled good, you knew that and you'd bet that bitch who was rubbing all up on him knew it too. She had on a neon-green tube top, with a black leather mini-skirt to match it, her sliver nose stud glistened under the lights as you watched her move closer to your man-

'huh?'

You immediately ended your train of thoughts there, deciding to get up and find yourself a drink because of how delusional you sounded.

"Ima go get me something to drink," you tapped Shoko on her shoulder before getting up, leaning up to whisper in her ears so she could hear, "be right back."

She nodded, turning back to a blushing Utahime which made you giggle knowing Shoko was defininetly gonna hit that tonight. As you walked you pulled down the shorts that was riding up your ass, sucking your teeth as it just rode back up.You finally made your way to the kitchen, opening the fridge to look for something strong that would make you forget the thoughts you had from earlier.

Bending over to open the draw at the bottom, the feeling of someone coming up an pressing into your ass causing you to gasp and stand up straight, your plump lips immediately set to cuss out the bitchass who thought that was a bright idea. Turning around, you immediately sucked your teeth at the person looking back at you,

"I know your mama taught you better than that." you said, turning back to the fridge to grab the beer you wanted and trying not to make the warmth from the male behind you cloud your judgement. Suguru grinned, his eyes creasing around the corners and his smile lines appeared causing you to clear your throat at the warmth that spread inside of you unexpectedly.

"And I know I taught you better than to ignore me." he replied, grin still on his face as he looked down at you watching how you fiddled with the top of your beer nervously and twisted your glossed lips. Something he noticed you always did while being confronted. You rolled your neck, and Geto mentally prepared himself for the attitude you were about to give him, placing his hands inside the pocket of his sweatpants as he watched you fold your arms as if to intimidate him.

The thought made his lips tilt up for a spilt second,

"Well, im sorry ian wanna interupt you and your little 'friend'."

Suguru paused at your comment, tilting his head to the side his eyes narrowing at you. "If your jealous, say that."

You almost broke your neck because of how fast you looked up at him, your eye twitching as you repeated the word jealous over and over in your head. Sucking your teeth you looked Geto up and down,

"Nigga please, jealous? You aint even my man talking bout some 'jealous'." You side stepped him, your eyes rolling as you continued to cuss him out under your breath. "Dick aint even that good, witcho bitchass."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you immediately regreted it. A sinking feeling appeared in your stomach as you prayed he didn't hear what you said only to curse under your breath at his response.

"Oh, word?" you didn't know what made your face heat up, the tone of his voice, how close he was to you, or the look in his eyes. Sun-kissed skin almost feeling like it was turning red because of how hot it was getting, and you subtly tried to press your thighs togther as you kept eye-contact with the black haired man, biting your plump lips at the expression on his face.

Suguru leaned in closer, his hair that was out of it's usual bun brushing causing the strands to brush against your cheeks, his lips so close to touching yours. He placed one hand on the counter behind you, while the other moved to push you up against him, his hands feeling up your ass as he had you right were he wanted you.

"You're being so bratty, but don't worry i'll fix that shit soon enough." and just like that he backed away from you, checking you out before turning and walking away leaving you with your chest heaving and your thighs pressed tightly together as a ache started to form between your legs.

For the rest of the night you were anxious, wondering what Suguru was going to do and making sure to constantly dodge him for the rest of the night, and it was working, mostly.

"Hey guys, m'gonna head out now I got things to do in the morning and I be damned if I wake up with a headache." you said, waving goodbye to everyone as you walked out of the house preparing to call an uber.

An arm wrapped itself around your waist, briging you into a firm chest.

"Where do you think you're going?" you tensed, not looking behind you as you tried to keep your straight as you swiped through instagram.

"Im going home Geto."

Suguru licked his lips as he looked down at you, his chest vibrating as he laughed before grabbing your hand leading you towards his car.

"W-what the fuck? bro, let me go. Geto im not playin with you right now, let me go." you struggled against his grip, feeling as his hands tightened around your wrist but not tight enough to hurt you.

He opened the door waiting for you to get in while you stood there staring at him with your arms crossed and your plump lips turned down into a scowl. Sighing, Suguru rubbed the bridge of his nose becoming irritated with your behaviour.

"Get in the car, Y/n."

"Fuck you."

"Later, baby." he flashed you a grin before his face got stern again, "Now get in the car, before I haul your pretty ass in myself." you stared at him for a good minute before sucking your teeth and rolling your eyes, moving inside of his car with a huff as you sat down. Smiling the male closed the door beore jogging around to his side of the car.

The car was silent as Suguru droved you home, you stared out the window refusing to look or talk to him while he drove with his hand place firmly on your thigh, herefused to move it even after your attempts at pushing it off, and the other one on the wheel. He sighed as he stopped at a traffic light, turning to look at you who stubbornly refused to look at him.

"Wanna tell me what the fuck I did?" He said, rubbing circles in your thighs you turned to look him up and down, "Nothing."

Suguru sucked his teeth, glaring at you. You could see he was becoming fustrated with you, which made you even more upset because how dare he.

"If it's not nothing why the fuck are you acting like this?" Turning to face him more you returned his glare, your eyes begining to water as you look at him. "Why the fuck you care so much? You aint care when you was with that bitch declining my calls."

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked at you, his chest hurting as he saw how hard you were trying to hold back your tears. "What the fuck are you talking about, Y/n?" You kissed your teeth at him, shaking your head. "Ion even wanna talk to you right now."

"Nah, what the fuck are you talking about?"

Forcing yoursel to laugh, you turned yourself back around no longer facing him. "I just find it funny how you feeding me all this fake shit, just to be up in other bitches faces. Having me calling you just for you to be up in some randoms pussy and having me look like a clown."

The car got silent as Suguru looked at you, waiting for you to show any sign that you were joking. He sighed opening his mouth to answer you only for a car horn to interupt him making him realize the traffic light had turned green again. As you reached to your house you were immediately out of the car, slamming the door as you got out and trying to walk fast so that the male behind you couldn't catch up.

You stopped halfway as he grabbed your wrist, refusing to turn towards him so that he could see the tears in your eyes.

"I don't know what somebody said to you, but baby, I promise that the only pussy I been in is yours and all this shit im feeding is not fake."

Sniffing you turn towards him, unlocking your phone before shoving it in his face. "How you gon explain this then?" He took the phone from your hand, staring down at it with a crease in his eyebrow. Shaking his head SUgur looked back up at you, "Mama this picture is old, where did you get this?"

"Some bitch sent it to me on instagram, thought I should know what you get up to when you tell me your busy." You say, sass evident inyour body language. "How I know your not lying?"

"I can't prove im not lying you just gotta trust me on this," he releases your wrist to hold unto your waist, bringing you closer to him only to be stopped by you bringing your palms to his chest.

"What about you declining my calls?" you feel your core heat up because of the way the way Suguru was looking at you. Eyes low lidded and a little glossy, roaming your figure ever chance he got his held unto your wrist as you lay your palms against his chest feeling how fast his heart was beating from your touch alone, he licked his lips as he noticed your eyes on him before the turned up into a lazy grin. "My phone was dead because I forgot to charge it. You would've know that if you didn't block me."

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarassment, allowing Geto to bring your wrists up to his lips placing a kiss on them, before drawing you in closer by your hips. His kissed the side of your neck causing you to grip his shirt, without having his touch for several days you were now weakened by it no longer touch-starved because of his lack of touvh. Suguru drageed his lips against the side of your neck, smirking at how sensitive you were, he brought his lips to your ears and you suddenly felt hot all over at his next words.

"You were being so mean at that party tonight, think you should make it up to me, don't you?"

"W-wait! Sugu-aah!"

The brutal thrust that the man behind you were giving could almost be desrcibed as animalistic. The grip he had on your hips never letting up as the other forced you to keep your arch.

"Wait on what baby? You keep my pussy away from me, and what me to wait? taah must be fucking crazy."

"m'sorry, s-swear jus-fuck! hold on!" Geto yanked you back into him, a squeal leaving your lips at the feeling, "Where you going, baby? Thought the dick wasn't that good? Why you runnin from it?"

"m-m'sorry da! i am-i am! mmm, best dick I ever had I swear!"

A grin stretched across Suguru's face at your words, giving your plump brown ass a smack before giving you a thrust that definetly hit the spot, "I know baby, just needed this dick to fuck some sense into you." Nodding your head in agreement, you repeated the male's name over and over mesmorized by how good he was making you feel.

"Keep on forgettin that t's your dick, and your's alone. Just like this pussy is mine." He brought his hand to rub at your clit, a whine falling from your lips as you held his hand,

"y-yeah, it's your's a-all your's papa."

There was no use begging for him to take it slow, only to submit to his brutually fast a deep strokes. Your hands are now held above your head because of you trying to get him to slow down but to know avail.

you fucked yourself back on him, listening to the groan he let out and feeling how he tightened his grip on your hair before pushing your face down against the pillow, watching how his cock drilled in and out of you in a fluid motion the sight almost making him dizzy. As he felt himself about to cum he turned you over, wanting to see your face.

He watched how your titties bounced up with each thrust, then to your face and how it was screwed up due to pleasure a little drool passing your lips as you out moans, telling Suguru how good he's fucking you and not to stop.

You came first, and Geto followed right after placing a kiss on your lips as he pulled out. "Suguru, I love you."

He froze up, looking down at you through his hair, which you had pulled out of the makeshift ponytail he put up. A smile soon took over his face as he kissed you again, humming against your lips.

"I love you too."

#writtenbyjae🧘🏾‍♀#jjk🌟#x black reader #jjk imagines #jjk x black reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto x black reader #geto suguru x reader #jae.thirsts☆

889 notes · View notes

highhhfiveee · 7 months

Text

safety net [p2] (pornstar!mike schmidt x reader)

part one: 💸 | part three: 📹

are we excited???? prepare your hearts cause the feels kinda took over

tags: fluff, lots of internal pining, porn mentions but nothing graphic. mike and reader are both genuine people and that draws them to each other. should be error free bc i actually proofread this one but if there are any, my sincerest apologies

“you have to be, like, evading taxes or something.”

mike chuckles behind you as he closes the door to his apartment--sorry, penthouse.

you're stood with your jaw unhinged, eyes scanning over the wide, sweeping space of his open concept living room and all of the furniture that decorates it, expensive-looking but cozy in a way that you wish you could replicate in your own place. you stalk over to tall windows that line the farthest wall, creating a corner that allows for you to see the bustling city below; all of the flashing lights, people drunkenly stumbling around street signs, and cars zipping and weaving through traffic.

you'd never seen anything like this, just a girl used to the urban suburbs on the south side of town, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment when you feel mike's presence behind you. you don't turn to him, dropping your shoes and purse to the ground and keeping your eyes trained on a street corner below.

"the view's what sold me on the place. i'm able to watch the sunrise on that side," he points to the windows on the other side of the kitchen, offering a view of the green space nestled in between skyscrapers. "and the sunset on this one."

"must be nice," you reply, backing away from the glass and observing the rest of the space. it was the size of, like, three of your apartments combined, organized and free of mess. "i only have a view of a corner store, and a really really busy bus stop. it's super annoying."

"where do you live?"

you give him the name of the neighborhood you'd known your whole life. you didn't recognize any of the area's flaws when you were a child. it was never a red flag to you that the street off of the one you grew up on had two storefronts of the same fast food chain on either end, or that the closest supermarket was twenty minutes away. you hadn't even batted an eye when some of your school “friends” would tell you about visiting gourmet cupcake restaurants and vintage consignments stores. you just went along with it, saying, "that's so cool. the fanciest place by my house is the $7.99 buffet." they all laughed at you.

it wasn't until you were older, freshly graduated from high school and looking to be on your own that you realized the disparity across the region. only people with certain attributes got the nice things, and you'd been conditioned to be grateful to have a daycare in a plaza with a smoke shop and tax preparation office.

"it's just too expensive for me to move anywhere else. i can barely make rent now, with the way they keep raising it every year. kept the tag on this dress just so i could take it back." you look down at yourself and mike can see the longing in your eye, the twinkle in them that wishes you could hang it up in your closet tomorrow.

after tonight, you kind of wish you hadn't bought it at all. you thought that simon would’ve found it insatiable, wining and dining you before taking you back to his place for a night cap, but all you think about now is the embarrassment of walking back into the luxury department store, handing them your receipt for the item you wore once and couldn’t keep.

it fills you with distaste and you find yourself desperate to peel the item off your skin. “is it okay if i shower?”

mike nods furiously, apologizing for not offering. he’d just been staring at you while you talked, admiring you. he was used to people with perfect appearances around him, done up by professionals that costed $200 an hour, but you were different, uncaring about your unruly curls and smeared eyeliner. you were unbothered and carefree, and that fascinated him.

he leads you down a long hall, coming to a stop once it forks into three different directions: left, right, and slightly diagonal right. the walls are lined with paintings and photos of mike and people that share his features, and at the end of the diagonal path is a giant trophy case, filled to the brim with plaques and trophies of various sizes, shapes, and finishes.

“jesus,” you murmur, abandoning your escort. mike’s walked ahead of you, but he makes his way back when he notices you’re not behind him.

“everything okay?”

you point to his trophy case, letting out an incredulous laugh. “are all of those for you?”

mike nods, and you laugh again, shaking your head in disbelief. “okay, so you’re obviously some sports star because no way someone living like this wouldn’t be.”

mike goes rigid next to you. he never knew how to bring up his career to new people he met, sometimes ping-ponging between “i work for a world-renown production company” and “i’m an entrepreneur”. he had no problem lying to other people, his guard all the way up from years of rejection and disgust at the mention of “sex worker” and “pornstar”, but something felt wrong about lying to you. he swallows hard, racking his mind for a semi truth.

“not sports, but definitely still physical.” you scrunch your nose at this, blinking at him in confusion, but you stop when he grabs your hand and nudges his head in the direction of the bathroom. “didn’t you want to shower?”

you nod, allowing him to pull you down the hall but not without a second glance at the case. what other physical career presented you with that many awards?

the bathroom is a star in it's own right, modern in a way that you fawn over when you're watching hgtv. the gigantic, complicated looking shower invites you from the corner, nestled in between the gadget-rigged toilet and garden bathtub.

all of the decor in here was clean, pale blue, a nice offset to all of the white tile and gold-accented appliances.

you're half-listening, your conscience replaced with static as mike explains where everything is. "so...towels are over here..."

his shower had a rainforest head and a small, handheld one clipped into a holder, with a screen embedded into the wall. there was a bench and railing to hold onto, a speaker on the back tile....your eyes cut to the toilet, and the smaller one next to it. a bidet??????

"...and, the bidet remote's right next to the soap. i'll lay some clothes out for you on the hall table, but let me know if you need anything, okay?" you react a little too late, raising your hand and squeaking, "wait" right as mike's backed out of the room.

"fuck."

you try to look around for things, eventually finding the towels in a closet concealed as a part of the wall and, as a bonus, a knob to turn on the heated floor?????

you strip down, completely bare under the dress, and fold it up, retail employee coded, delicately placing it by the sink with the tag on top. it was exactly how you'd return it, with a shitty excuse and plastic smile. you do the same with mike's jacket.

you throw your hair up before wrapping yourself in the towel, delicately cloaked in what had to be egyptian cotton, and pace on over to the shower. you tap the daunting screen, and it lights up with a flourish, displaying the date, time, weather, and a host of different icons.

you don't know why it's so hard for you to turn the shower on, scrolling and bumbling through a collection of options that weren't simply turn on. why did you need to use a screen anyway? why reinvent the simple wheel that was a faucet lever?

you decide you need mike's help after a bit, though self-conscious about having to ask after he probably told you earlier. you splash cool water on your face before leaving the room, attempting to wring the anxiety out of your body.

you're at the fork in the hallway again, the view of you obscured from the living room by a wall, and you turn your attention to mike's trophy case again. you're too far to see any of the engravings on anything and you're so curious to find out what they say.

you feel your muscles attempt to pull you down the lonely hall, but you halt, reminding yourself that mike was a kind person who'd invited you into his home, and you were supposed to be showering, not snooping. still, even with the moment of morality, untrustworthy interest prodded at your brain.

mike's exiting his room with a handful of clothes for you when he catches you, arms wound around yourself to keep your towel up. you haven't seen him yet, your gaze fixed on something down the hall. he gulps softly, unaware that he would see you like this so early in your connection. your long neck cranes forward to see better, and he prematurely wonders if you're sensitive there, mind swirling with musings of bites and marks.

"something wrong?" you jolt, blinking and stammering and damn near jestering as you attempt to defend yourself. mike doesn't look at you with malice or cynicism, simply stepping closer as your eyes flitter around. "i, uh...i need help with the shower. i don't know how to turn it on."

mike huffs, squinting his eyes at you jovially. "that the only thing?" fuck.

you drop your shoulders with a deep sigh, throwing a pointed finger down the hall. "i also wanna know why you have all those awards." there's a small, almost undetectable change in mike's face, his eye twitching. you watch him shrug it off, placing a hand on your shoulder to lead you back to the bathroom. "i'll explain after you shower."

you're puzzled as to why he's so cagey about it, but you don't question it, accepting his statement and finally listening to him as he explains what to do

you're alone again after he sets the clothes down and leaves. he took your dress, easing you with "just going to hang it up. no worries" and a sheepish smile, and you're eager, ready to hear about what he does and how he's able to afford all this, including this shower that provides you with the best shower you think you've ever taken.

you're able to get the water to the perfect temp, scalding, with the perfect amount of pressure to sting your skin and make you feel clean. you wash away all of your worries; thoughts of keeping a roof over your head, being okay, and finding a genuine connection extinguished with the hum of soft jazz and lather of ylang ylang scented soap.

you lotion yourself with one of the various creams on mike's counter, soothed by the powder smell, and slip into the clothes you're provided--a pair of soft, heart-covered boxers and a university t-shirt, faded into burgundy from countless washes.

mike's sitting on the couch, scrolling aimlessly on his phone when the the demure pitter patter of your feet sounds against the floors, and he swears he almost dies when he sees you.

maybe it hadn't been totally random when he chose the clothes for you, deciding to give you two of his favorite items so he could see how they looked on you. the shirt, very lived in and from his alma mater, skirted your thighs and covered up his boxers, draping over your lithe body in a way that made his mouth go dry.

"okay," you call, dropping beside him on the couch. the wispy hairs around your hairline frame your clean face, guiding his attention to the smattering of dark moles around your eyes and temples. "tell me. what are all of those awards for?"

"do you want some water or something?" he interrupts, and while you accept, you furrow your eyebrows at him. he gets up with the swiftness of a nascar pit crew, and you hold your gaze on him, pivoting your body as he moves.

"mike, c'mon, what gives? you can trust me."

his back is towards you, filling a glass with water from the filtered water faucet. he hunches at your baffled tone, your voice all soft and downcast.

he wants to scream because it's so easy to just come out and tell you what he does. you didn't say anything at the restaurant, but maybe you'd put two and two together when he finally told you truth, remembering a thumbnail from the porn site of your choosing. he wasn't ashamed---nowhere near that. he'd been in the industry almost a decade, moving past the internalized and societally-imposed scrutiny he felt for his career. it was other people that were ashamed, other people that turned their nose up at him because of what they assumed he was; sleazy, devious, a player. he'd had so many connections blow over because of it, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to handle that happening with you.

you just stare at his back, watching it rise and fall with every laboured breath he takes. what was so bad about what he did that he couldn’t just tell you? he was obviously good at whatever it was, and you wondered if it was a front for something. maybe he disarmed you with his nice guy act, and he lured you here to kill you an—-

the clink of glass on glass brings you back to reality. mike is beside you again, staring blankly ahead while he wrings his hands.

“i’m a pornstar,” he utters plainly. he squeezes his eyes shut, expecting you to make a noise of disgust or get up and leave, but you don’t.

he opens one eye, and then both. you’re staring at him with no concrete expression, lips pursed. he closes his eyes again, counting in his head before opening them once more.

you’re still there, and it almost makes him cry.

“that checks out,” you muse. you’re fairly non reactive, but not because his admission freaks you out. you’re thinking back to the awards, the sheer amount of them in that case, and how good he really must be at what he does. “why didn’t you want to tell me?”

he runs a hand through his hair, melting into his couch with boyish reserve. his eyes are a mixed bag, bouncing between relief and despair. “people run every time i tell them. lots of them act like i just told them i killed their childhood pet and it's just so...disheartening, y'know?

"i just don't get it because it's just like any other job. you work, fucking hard, because you want to perform at your best, just like anyone else. the stigma around it never goes away, no matter how hard you try to convince people. they think you get around outside of it, having sex every second of every day, or that you're gonna mess around with your coworkers and give them something. it's like the trust level is in hell before you're even able to prove yourself." you scoot closer to mike without a word and place your hands over his. his rings are cold against your palm.

it's a gentle gesture. the airy smile you give pacifies him and he swears he's never felt anything like what he feels now.

"i'm not here to judge you, mike. i never will. sex work is a completely valid career, just like anything else. i'm sorry about all those shitty people who made assumptions about you."

"no need to apologize," he whispers, adjusting his hands so that they cradle yours now. you tilt your head down bashfully, lashes fluttering. "all those times led me here."

you two chat for a long while. mike tells you all about the production company he works for, how he got into the business, what his work schedule's like, the community of other stars that he works with, his stage name. you can tell he's passionate about it, lost in his rambles and talking with his hands. certain words segue your convo into other topics, like books and food and pop culture. you two have a lot more than coffee in common.

"i was surprised you didn't recognize me, honestly. not in a douchey way, but just because everyone does. it's usually the first thing they come up to me with." you could only imagine, being approached with "i've come to all of your work" in the condiment aisle at the grocery store.

"i don't watch professional porn really. too staged for me."

"i get that. i think you'd like our content. we really found a good balance between professional quality and ethical, genuine, safe fun."

you try to stay nonchalant, not wanting to betray the fact that you're itching to watch something of his work. "that's really nice. i bet you have quite the catalog."

"almost ten years worth so, yeah, i'd say," he chuckles, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth. "enough about me though. what do you do for work?"

"nothing as exciting and well-paying as porn. i type letters and numbers into a computer in a cubicle. it barely pays the bills, but i've worked in too many customer service jobs to ever go back." mike agrees. you're about to say something else when you're interrupted by a yawn, unhinging your jaw like an animal. you quickly cover your mouth, muttering, "jeez. sorry." you didn't realize it, but you were tired, exhausted from the night you had.

"it's okay, it is pretty late." he checks the time on his phone and turns it to you. 2:23 am. had you two really been talking on this couch for 3 hours? "i can show you to the guest room if you're tired. i have a shoot tomorrow anyway so i should get to bed too."

"sure," you whisper, grabbing his hand when he extends it to you. he pulls you to your feet like you weigh nothing at all, and you tail behind him like a lovesick puppy.

you're feeling that tingly ball of warmth in your stomach, the one you've felt with every person you thought you'd marry. you usually indulge in it, but with mike, it scares you. why do you feel like this after one night with a man you barely even know?

it's rash and inappropriate, you decide, and you're still convincing yourself as you slide under the black satin sheets and duvet on mike's king sized guest bed. you recline on the satin-covered pillows, sinking into the memory foam. it's a nice departure from your noisy childhood mattress back at home.

"do you have work tomorrow?" you shake your head, and mike claps his hands together with a cheer.

"yay. i'll be leaving around 8 or so, but feel free to sleep in and hang around as long as you want. the remote for the blinds is right there, i'll put a toothbrush out for you, and there's all kinds of food in the kitchen. help yourself. just let me know when you're leaving so i can lock the door."

your eyes squint. "you're gonna lock the door after i leave?"

mike nods, smiling excitedly and geekily diving into his rationale. "mhm, i have a smart lock. i can do it from my phone."

you're so tired that the words just foolishly tumble out of your mouth. "you must have great dick."

mike lets out a laugh that's a blend of flattered, nervous, and amused and you're both red-cheeked and flustered. "i am so fucking sorry, i, uh..y--" you stammer over all of your words, finally able to wrench out, "a smart lock just sounds expensive."

mike stares you down with fascination, backing towards the door. "watch the videos and find out for yourself, yeah?" he winks at you, and you gulp so loudly you're sure he hears. "goodnight, y/n. sleep well.”

"you too,” you croak.

you're out like a light once he leaves, but not before telling yourself to put up a new sticky note at home: “watch mike's porn."

you awake what feels like days later, refreshed and made anew. you click on the remote for the curtains, and they rise slowly, flooding the room with rich early afternoon sun. the clock on the nightstand reads 12:38 pm.

you hop to your feet and make your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face before stalking to the living room. it's filled with light, and you think about how you'd probably never be depressed living in a place like this.

a box, red and moderately sized, sits upon the kitchen counter. you think you should ignore it, but as you get closer, you see a paper with your name scrawled across it. you like your name in mike's voice and handwriting.

you pull up the lid and inside is your dress from last night with the tag missing, two fat wads of hundred dollar bills, and another note that reads, “you deserve to feel beautiful and pay your rent <3 call this number when you're ready to go home. -m”.

in this moment, you're 100% positive that you're falling in love.

wow wow wow wow. they are so fucking CUTE! i love themmmmmmm <3 hopefully this tides y'all over for a bit because i need to outline the rest of their story, and i wanna work on some other stories for a little bit 💜 more parts are definitely coming, have no fear!

i'd also like to say that while i use y/n in my stories, reader is typically a character that i'm inventing. using your own name and likeness while you read is totally fine, of course! i just use y/n as a placeholder name for my reader character bc i don't feel like coming up with character names all the time <3 sorry if that doesn't make sense 💔

i hope you all enjoyed! happy reading my seedlings 🌱💜

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtsss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt fluff #fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf fic #faire is writing stuff #faire's (pornstar) mike schmidt <3 #they are so fucking cute #like omg #i get the feels from them and they're my characters #rooting for them fr #josh hutcherson

499 notes · View notes

torialefay · 15 days

Note

dear tori, do you have a minute to talk about our lord and savior christopher bang, and more specifically these videos from the met gala?

https://twitter.com/backsdoors/status/1787611418755285267?t=XkWEPIdkxCvncRqTISp_3A&s=19

https://twitter.com/backsdoors/status/1787621386053189754?s=19

thank you for your time.

—🧸

hi 🧸 anon!!!! i hadn't seen that second link you sent me and oh my god 😭😭😭😭

here's the thing: i am delusional. and all of these clips make me think about what it would be like to be chan's girlfriend at the met.

you're in the crowd at the met waiting nervously for all of the kids to arrive. and when they do, you feel like the proudest parent in the world. they way they look and behave is giving you the biggest sense of fulfilment. they all look scared shitless, but a proud mom moment nonetheless.

and then, you look over and finally lock in on your boyfriend. how fucking beautiful he is. his cape falling off of his body to reveal a suit that had been tailored just for him. his big, broad shoulders highlighted along the line of the jacket.

and the way that he'd secure his jacket inward to make sure it looked perfect. he knew he had to be perfect tonight with so many eyes on him.

and you'd watch in awe as they did what they do best. charming everyone. your group of boys, now looking like grown men. you couldn't contain yourself. before you knew it, tears were starting to well up in your eyes as you smiled and covered your mouth. this was all just too perfect.

when you'd focused in on your boyfriend again, that's when you really lost it. you couldn't believe he'd made it here. your fucking man. at the met gala. the shine in his eyes looked like it was made for him. and everything about him was made for you.

as you started releasing a few tears, you couldn't help to yourself but mouth the words "my baby" while looking in awe. grasping your hands to your chest, you took deep breaths, admiring him for all he was. "so perfect," you'd mouth again.

you watched again as the boys went up the stairs for their interviews. although you couldn't hear them, you were sure that they were doing great. chan was holding the mic the entire time, and your heart raced, looking at the emotions going across his face to clue you in to what they were talking about. others may not be able to notice, but you knew that he was nervous. he showed it in his own, hidden way. your perfect boyfriend.

your eyes would continue to follow as they finished their interviews. you could see the relief on chan's face once he realized that the hard part was over with. he was so excited and so giddy to know that he could now freely enjoy himself for the rest of the night. he'd gotten through it, and he'd done a good job. while waiting to go into the museum, he looked out to see if he could find you. he craned his neck in all directions and squinted harshly until he could make out your face. you smiled as hard as you could, waving and giving him small excited fist bumps into the air. he perked right up, following your moves.

when they were about to enter the huge building, a panicked look came over chan's face as he was told that they needed to do something with the members' phones. they only had a couple of staff near them, but they offered to take care of it. while the members handed chan all of the phones, he was struggling to hold him in his two hands. instinctually, chan turned his body around to find you in the crowd, motioning for you to come up and take the phones for him. he knew you'd keep them safe in your purse.

a bit embarrassed, you knew that this is what it meant to be the mom and dad of stray kids. always having to take care of the kids. trying to draw the absolute least amount of attention, you shimmied up the stairs and to the boys waiting patiently.

you threw your hands out, almost in a panic, to retrieve the phones so that the boys could get back on schedule. you placed each one quickly in your purse before zipping it up and resting it snug to your hip.

"thank you baby," chan huffed out, a sigh of relief on his face.

you'd fully expected to grab the phones and dash, but instead, chris pulled you in for a quick peck on the lips to say thank you. you blushed incessantly as you pulled away, locking your eyes on his. for one fleeting moment, it was just you and him.

you had to break the eye contact to quickly get back downstairs. you told the boys they did great and to have a fun time. that you'd be waiting with their phones as soon as they were done.

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

the next day would be filled with photos of you at the gala. a quick snap of your kiss with chan of course. and a shot of you "to the rescue" and taking up the phones. but there was a video you didn't expect as well. in the crowd, you could be seen with your big watery eyes, mouthing the phrase "my baby... so perfect" while you stared with so much love at chris.

comment after comment was speaking your praises. captions like "if my future partner isn't like this, i don't want them" and "literal goals. they are so in love." ... and they weren't wrong.

you'd be dubbed as the "mom and dad" of kpop. everyone would be able to see AND feel the love you'd have with your little stray kids family. and to be honest, even the members themselves saw you that way too.

#bangchan soft thoughts #bangchan scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #bangchan imagines #bang chan #bangchan x reader #bangchan x female reader #bangchan x you #bangchan stray kids #stray kids #skz scenarios #stray kids met gala #skz met gala #bangchan met gala #christopher bang

191 notes · View notes

virginsexgod69 · 22 days

Note

Hi!! I love ur work for Daryl. I was wondering if you could write a daryl dixon oneshot where maybe him and the reader find an abandoned tattoo parlor while out on a supply run and reader gives him a tattoo and eventually that leads to smut! 🩷

❝ Inked ❞

pairing Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

cw established relationship, smut, unprotected p in v, pet names, pussy eating, needles (for tattoos), idk how to do tattoos so i apologize in advance for any inaccuracies

note omg i had a jolly good time writing this! tysm for the request =] i did lowkey tweak it slightly, but nothing major, i pinky promise

2.1k words

“I don’t think there’s anything else we can get outta this place,” you commented as you placed the only can- a can of cranberry sauce from who knows how long ago- into your backpack. You looked around, only seeing more bare shelves and Daryl. You smiled, a natural reaction you had whenever you saw him. He wrapped his strong arm around your shoulder, pulling you close before placing a kiss to your hairline.

“We should take a look a’ these other stores ‘fore we start headin’ back,” he suggested as he guided you out the store, arm still wrapped snugly around you. You nodded your head in silent agreement, following beside him. It was hard to tell what most of the other buildings were since they were all dirty with broken or boarded up windows, but one in particular caught your eye.

“Hey, look! A tattoo shop,” you pointed at the building, “Let’s go check it out!” You hurried toward it, semi-dragging Daryl with you.

“The hell we gonna find at a tattoo shop?” He asked, seeming genuinely confused at why the hell you’d wanna go.

“Hopefully more than some nasty ass canned cranberry sauce.” He couldn’t disagree with you there, so he fell in line with your fast paced steps toward the shop.

You both entered the shop with knives drawn in case any walkers decided to stumble out of the shadows. Nothing came when the two of you made noise in an attempt to draw them out, so you sheathed your knife and went all the way inside, Daryl in tow. The shop was small, which allowed the sunlight shining through the window to fill it. The walls were covered in framed pictures of tattoo designs, although they were covered in dust. The shop itself was in fairly good shape, considering. You and Daryl split off in different directions in search of anything that could be brought back to the prison. You couldn’t find anything that wasn’t tattoo related, which wasn’t surprising since this was a tattoo shop. What you did find, though, was a lot more exciting. Everything that you would need to do a tattoo was all there, right in front of you.

“Find anything?” Daryl asked once he found you again.

“Yes and no?”

“Wha’s that s’pose to mean?” He asked.

“There’s still everything here to do tattoos with, isn’t that cool?”

“We gon’ get matchin' tattoos or somethin’? He teased.

"Not a bad idea, Dixon," you mused. You patted the seat and he sat down after setting aside his crossbow and got comfortable. You thought about what to put on him. You had so many ideas that you may as well have had none.

"Wha's goin' on in there?" he asked. It was something that he'd say whenever he noticed you deep in thought.

"I don't even know what to put on ya," you admitted as you traced lazy lines on his bare arm with your finger, "or where to put it." Your face brightened when an idea finally passed through your head. You grabbed his arm and turned his hand to face upward before wiping a spot on his wrist clean with the alcohol wipe you got lucky enough to find. You unpackaged a needle before dipping it into the ink cap. Since there wasn't any power, you'd have to do a stick and poke. You were vaguely familiar with them from a time of experimentation during your teen years. With your non-dominant hand, you stretched his skin before getting to work on your design. You could feel Daryl trying to take a peek at what you were doing, but you purposely blocked his view with your head each time. You worked slowly and carefully, doing your best to make something cute despite not even being an amateur.

“Okay, you can look now,” you muttered timidly as you handed him back his arm. You weren’t sure if he’d like it or not and were starting to regret not finding a pen and making a sketch to run by him for approval first. But, it was too late now and all you could do was hope for the best. He brought his wrist closer to his face to get a better look. It was simple, a small love heart with his first initial plus yours. It looked like something a girl would doodle in her notebook while daydreaming about her crush.

“S’cute,” he said as he admired the tattoo with a small, but genuine, smile on his face. His bright blue eyes looked up at you, filled with all the love and adoration in the world. “I love it.” You couldn’t help but smile at him. “You wanna gimme a matching one?” You joked, referencing his earlier comment. He glanced out the window, the sun was setting and it was likely you and him would have to spend the night here if he and you stayed for one more tattoo. Some privacy with you, alone, away from everyone at the prison sounded like heaven, and matching tattoos were a bonus.

“Sure.” He got out of the seat and you got in.

“You wan’ it in the same place?”

You thought about it for a second. “I want it somewhere special, in a place for only you to see.” The rosy tint that blossomed on his cheeks wasn’t missed by you. You found it endearing how he sometimes grew flustered at your flirtation, despite it being nothing new.

“Yeah? Where’s that?” He asked.

“I dunno, Daryl. You pick,” you insisted with a smug look upon your face. He made quick work of unbuttoning your jeans and you lifted your hips to assist him in pulling them down all the way to your ankles. He stepped away and grabbed a new needle and ink. With another alcohol wipe, he cleaned a spot on your inner thigh before comfortably situating himself on his knees between your legs. You felt the small, frequent pokes of the needle as he got to work on the tattoo. Seeing him on his knees between your thighs made your stomach flutter. You knew that was his favorite place to be and having the tattoo there seemed like he was marking it as his own. As he was working, his hand accidentally brushed against your clit, eliciting a whine from you. He paused his work and glanced up at you, struggling to hide the smirk that tugged at his lips. You avoided his eye and he got back to work, but his hand bumped your clit more often. Each time left you desperate for more. You so badly wanted to close your legs and rub your thighs together or reach down and get yourself off, but you had to stay still. His hand brushed against you once more, causing you to squirm a little.

“Keep still.”

You glared down at him. “I’m trying to, but you keep-” He did it again and this time you were one hundred percent sure it was on purpose. Grumbling under your breath, you leaned back against the seat and did your best to keep still as he finished up. Once he was done, he wiped off the excess ink.

“We should probably secure the place since we’re gonna be spendin’ the night here,” he suggested.

“But Daryl,” you whined, “you can’t just leave me like this. You knew what you were doing earlier!”

"Wha? Givin' you a tattoo?" You huffed and rolled your eyes and reached down to pull your pants back up, but he stopped you.

"I'm jus' playin' darlin'. Sit back." He gently pushed you back into the chair before getting back on his knees. Slowly, he pulled your panties down to your ankles with your formerly discarded pants and yanked them both off over your shoes. He firmly gripped your hips and pulled you to the edge of the seat and placed your legs over his shoulders. Feeling his hot tongue lick up and down your soaked slit had you gripping the arm rests for support. With his thumb, he rubbed slow, teasing circles on your hard clit. His tongue was a welcome intrusion in your soaked entrance. You gasped and moaned out his name and your hands flew to his hair, your fingers getting tangled in his soft locks. This motivated him to rub faster circles on your clit, earning more gasps and moans from you. His tongue thrusted in and out of your dripping cunt as he tasted all of your juices, refusing to let any go to waste. You tugged his hair as your thighs involuntarily clamped around his head and he moaned unexpectedly, the vibrations from it bringing you closer to the edge. Your walls clenched around the pink muscle as he focused it on that one spot that always did things to you.

"Daryl, please! I'm so close," you whined, desperate for him to bring you to your orgasm. If he weren't trapped between your plush thighs, he would've talked you through it, but instead he moved his lips to your clit and started sucking on it while prodding the bud with his tongue. You squeezed your eyes shut as the white hot waves of pleasure overtook your body. Daryl worked faster once he felt you tense up and your thighs convulsing around his head. Your fingers tightened in his hair as your toes curled. You could the vibration of his pleasured grunts against your soft flesh.

"I'm gonna-" your back arched and head fell back as he pushed you over the edge, immersing you in a world of pleasure. He continued to lap at your pussy as you rode out your orgasm. Once you came down from that high, you relaxed and slumped against the chair. Daryl reluctantly freed himself from between your thighs since he needed to catch his breath again. His dick was straining against his pants with how hard he was just from hearing your sounds of pleasure and tasting your pretty pussy. And now, just seeing your fucked out face made him want to cum in his pants.

In one quick swipe, he cleared a nearby table of all its supplies. He picked you up from the chair with ease, tossing you over his shoulder before gently laying you onto the table. He made quick work of freeing his erection from his pants and stroked it a few times, causing precum to bubble up on the angry red tip. He lined it up with your slit, rubbing it up and down your slick folds teasingly.

"So wet fer me, baby," he groaned as he lined himself up with your needy hole. You wrapped your legs around his hips, desperate for him to fill you up. Your body welcomed him as he slid in easily.

"Yer takin' me so good, sunshine." He leaned down and connected his lips with yours. You moaned as you tasted yourself on his tongue. His tongue danced with yours as you kissed each other passionately. Large, rough hands palmed at your clothed tits as he started thrusting into you. Frustrated with your shirt, he hurriedly pulled it over your head before attaching his lips to your neck, roughly sucking and biting your skin. His tongue slid over your carotid artery, feeling how fast your heart was beating. You clumsily tugged at his shirt and vest, a silent plea for him to take them off, which he did. When he was with you, his insecurities were non existent. You tightly gripped his shoulders, nails digging hollow indents into his skin as he increased the pace of his thrusts.

"Feel so good," you slurred. He kissed open mouthed kisses down your body, occasionally leaving marks in his wake. You squirmed and moaned beneath him, your second orgasm approaching fast. He was close too, you could feel it in the way his cock twitched inside you and his pace became slower snd less rhythmic.

"I'm boutta cum, baby," he groaned. You wanted to tell him you were, too, but your mind was a jumbled mess that was drunk off his cock. When your second orgasm came, your walls tightly hugged his shaft, squeezing him closer to his own climax. He quickly pulled out and stroked himself the rest of the way. His mouth fell open and eyes rolled back as he shot white hot ropes of cum all over your naked body.

He collapsed into a nearby chair, panting for air. You slid off the table and joined him in the chair by sitting on his lap. Both your bodies were coated in the thin sheen of sweat as you held each other close as exhaustion took over your bodies.

Join the taglist?

Masterlist

Taglist @banquetwriter @eternalrose81 @the-dixon-effect @dilfsandmartinis @millybaby @daryldixmedown @theoraekenslover @aeriean @lesbian-horror-fan @in-this-minute @paintlavillered @zhannamustdie @thegeorgiahuntsman @bigbaldheadname @Lumi362 @lettersfromyourlover-blog @princesssparkel2024

257 notes · View notes

whump-imagines · 29 days

Text

Lightning and Panic

I swear I will write for other characters too... I'm just currently deep in Buck and Eddie brain rot.

Buddie x reader

Wc: 1300 ish

You pinched your arm, flinching at the sensation. There was no way this was real. This was your worst nightmare. You just needed to try harder and you were sure you would wake up.

Pinching the same spot once more, you realized that you were likely going to have a bruise soon.

Yet again, you were sitting in this awful waiting room. It felt like you had just been here waiting for news was after Eddie was shot.

Now, it was Buck.

It had been two days of waiting. Two days of worrying. Two days of desperately trying to convince yourself that he was going to be okay.

You knew they had a dangerous job. You thought you'd been prepared for that. You expected burns or maybe smoke inhalation. Not a sniper and a freak lightning strike.

Truthfully, you'd only prepared for minor injuries. Not near death experiences.

Suddenly, Eddie was kneeling in front of you. Why did he look so concerned? Something went wrong. Buck was gone.

He was talking. Why couldn't you hear him? Why are your ears ringing?

Eddie squeezed your hands almost too tight. He was trying to ground you. He took a slow exaggerated deep breath then finally, his words broke through your haze. “Breathe.”

It was then you finally realized you were barely wheezing air in and out and much too quickly. Your heart was racing. You gasped. “I-I–” more gasping. “C-c-can’t.”

Eddie moved your hands to his chest. “Yes, you can. Just follow me.” His fingers dug into the pulse point at your wrist as he took another slow beep breath and counted the pattern for you.

Tears rolled down your face as you desperately tried to calm down. You yanked your hands away from Eddie to pull at the collar of your shirt. It suddenly felt like it was strangling you.

Eddie turned toward Bobby and said something to him about a doctor. Had he whispered? Maybe. Your ears were also ringing more intensely again.

Now, you were grabbing at your chest. “H–hurts,” you panted out the word.

“I know, sweetheart,” Eddie soothed. “Just try to breathe.” He pulled your hands back down to your lap and once again pressed his fingers into your pulse point. You could see the worry in his eyes despite trying to stay calm for you.

You desperately tried to draw in more air but failed. Before long, black spots started to appear in front of your eyes. Then there was a doctor. He had to be there about Buck. You tried to back away, you couldn't handle any more bad news. “No.”

Eddie moved to the chair beside you and pulled you against his side. “It's okay, sweetheart. He's here to help you.” He pulled up your sleeve then nodded to the doctor.

There was something cold on your shoulder then a pinch and a burning sensation. You couldn't move away from it as Eddie had you held firmly in place.

Almost immediately, you felt calmer. You relaxed fully into Eddie and finally drew in a deep breath. A nurse you hadn't noticed placed an oxygen mask over your face.

You felt Eddie’s sigh of relief. “You're okay.” You weren't sure if he was talking to you or himself. “The doctor is going to run a few tests just to make sure that was a panic attack and nothing else, okay?”

You tried to snuggle further into him not wanting to leave his side. “‘m tired.”

“I know. Just relax. It's okay if you fall asleep,” Eddie soothed. He stood and lifted you into his arms bridal style. You dozed off with your head against his shoulder before he made it to the exam room.

When you opened your eyes, you were alone in a hospital room. As the grogginess started to lift, confusion set in. Why were you here? Why were you alone? There were no monitors or IV lines and aside for being tired, you felt okay.

Then the memory hit. Buck. You jerked upright. “Oh, no.” You would have stood to go find out how he was but you were suddenly dizzy. So instead, you pressed the nurse call button on the bed rail.

The dizziness mostly cleared and you were considering going to look for Eddie and check on Buck when the door swung open and a doctor entered. You vaguely remembered him from the waiting room earlier. “How’re you feeling?” he asked.

“How is Buck?” you asked, ignoring his question.

Before he could answer, Eddie came in and was by your side a moment later. “How are you?”

You huffed. “How’s Buck?”

Eddie smiled. “He's breathing on his own. He's getting better.”

Tears slid down your face as the relief washed over you. You finally felt like you could breathe again.

“Now, back to you,” Eddie redirected. “Are you feeling better?”

Shrugging one shoulder, you thought about it. “Honestly, I'm still tired. I was dizzy but that's passed. How long was I out?”

“Almost five hours,” said Eddie.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Holy crap. Wait, I thought I heard something about tests.”

“You did.” Eddie looked to the doctor to let him explain.

“We ran an EKG and blood tests because you were having some chest pain during your anxiety attack,” he explained. “Everything came back normal.”

“So then am I captive here or can I go see Buck?” you asked.

“You're free to leave,” the doctor said. Then he left the two of you alone.

“I'm sorry,” he started. “I should have been paying attention. I should have noticed you hadn't really slept or eaten. Or at least that you hadn't taken your meds.”

You just shook your head. “It's not your fault. We were both focused on Buck.”

“I still should have noticed.”

“You noticed when I was having an attack and got me help. That's all that matters.”

He just nodded, not seeming convinced.

“Can we go sit with Buck?” you asked.

“Maddie and their parents are in with him right now,” Eddie started. “How about we just go look through the window so you can see he's okay and then we go home so you can get some more rest?”

“I don't want to leave him. What if something happens?” You felt yourself spiraling. “What if something happens and– and we're not here?”

Eddie took your face between his hands and forced you to look at him. “Breathe.” He demonstrated a deep, calming breath for you. “He is stable. They don't expect anything to change overnight. And even if it did, we're not that far away. Okay?”

You took a few deep breaths. “Mmkay.”

“Besides, you know Buck would want you to rest and take care of yourself rather than sit around here.”

“Ugh. Fine,” you conceded. “Can we not tell him about my panic attack earlier?”

Eddie shook his head. “We can wait until he gets home. Unless he asks directly because I won't lie to him.”

You agreed and the two of you made your way towards the ICU. It really did help you to see him doing better. Leaning your head on Eddie’s shoulder, you were content to just stand I'm that hallway until Buck woke up but Eddie wouldn't go for that.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“No,” you told him truthfully. “But we can anyway.”

A week later, Buck was finally coming home. You were practically vibrating with excitement.

Walking into the house, you tried to lead Buck towards the bedroom but he stopped you and attempted to head toward the couch. “You need to be resting,” you scolded him.

“Are you going to rest?” he asked.

“Me?” You asked, confused. “I'm fine. I didn't die a few days ago.”

Buck frowned. “The doctors ran tests to make sure you weren't having a heart attack because you nearly passed out from a panic attack.”

You scowled at Eddie. “When did you tell him?”

Eddie just shrugged. “He asked while you were loading up the car. I told you I wasn't going to lie to him.”

You sighed. “Regardless, I'm fine.”

Eddie shoved you and Buck towards the bedroom. “I think we could all use some rest. Let's all go take a nap and then we can watch a movie and eat take out in bed.”

“Sounds amazing. Except, when do we need to pick up Christopher?” you asked.

“Carla is keeping him overnight so we can get Buck settled in,” Eddie explained.

Buck nodded. “I vote pizza.”

“Deal,” you and Eddie agreed in unison.

#eddie diaz x reader #buddie x reader #evan buckley x reader #9 1 1 x reader #911 fanfic #911 reader insert

234 notes · View notes

d34dxr0ses · 1 year

Text

|| Everlasting Ink ||

TattooArtist!Boyfriend!Xavier Thorpe x Fem!Reader -- Summary: You've always been Xavier's muse, inspiring and motivating his work, but right now he wants nothing more than for you to be his canvas for his most recent design. Warnings: MDNI/18+/Tattoo artist Xavier AU/Aged Up characters/Spice/Xavier giving reader a sternum tattoo/Kissing/Pet names (Angel;Babe;My love)/Pinch of Possessive!Xavier A/N: This is the first fic I'll be posting here, so I hope you guys like it! (Also this was written at 1am so apologies for any mistakes)^^

It had been 15 minutes since Xavier started looking at you, still cleaning and sterilizing his tattoo gun, and he has yet to look away. You were reading a book you had picked up from the library before you met up with your boyfriend in his art shed, that was hidden in the woods on Nevermore's campus. Though you were deeply invested in your book, you couldn't shake the feeling of his gaze, so you glanced up to meet his adoring eyes.

"What?" You laughed out, inspecting his face. He looked like a kid who was scared to ask his mom for some candy, but his eyes were much wider (lost in thought, clearly), and his cheeks slightly more red.

"I uh.." He cleared his throat and looked down at the cloth and tool in his hands, that he had been thoroughly wiping every inch for the past several minutes; before continuing "My love, and you can absolutely say no, but well- I finished a design that I've been working on, and I was hoping to tattoo it on you?" He placed his tattoo gun on the desk before quickly rummaging through all his papers before finding his sketch book.

You stood up from where you sat and approached his chair, wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind as you stared at the drawing he flipped open too. You already knew you would probably have let him the moment he asked in such a sweet tone, but you were stunned by the piece. It was a fairly larger sternum tattoo, that would wrap around your chest and peak in between your boobs. The drawing had such intricate details, and little parts that made it appear that he had designed it just for you. Even the chest model he had drawn matched yours damn near perfectly.

"Xavier.. That's beautiful, I'd be honored to be you canvas." You said the last part in a fake, more proper sounding accent. His eyes lit up and his head snapped back so he was facing you. You could've swore that if he had a tail it would be wagging.

"Wait seriously? Like now? Can we do it now?" You could only imagine how long a piece like this would take, and it was already pretty late, but you had enough caffeinated drinks that you really didn't care, with the look he had stuck on his face you'd probably let him cover every inch of your body in his drawings, hiding your skin away in the ink.

That's where you sat now. Lying on your back, topless and staring at the drawing of your tattoo in his book. Your page. Sure, he had a lot of drawings of you, but this was different. It wasn't your face, your body, your hair. No, this was you. This was something that clearly showed that he took a great look into who you really were. Each line told its own story; then you noticed it, scattered throughout it was letters, unnoticeable unless you were specifically looking for it, letters that spelt out his name. A grin climbed onto your face, as closed the book, setting it on the desk closest to you. You looked down at the boy with long brown hair, who's bangs had now been tied back.

"Your name huh? Claiming me now?" Blood now rushed back to his face. It was a part of the design he had completely forgotten about. A part that he sketched out while thinking about you with his name stained onto your body, showing that you were truly his, and his alone.

"I forgot about that, babe I promise I wouldn't try to tattoo my name on you without perm-" but you cut him off. He was almost frantic, which was cute, but always led to him rambling on nervously for at least 10 minutes.

"I like it, its not like its in bold, neon ink, keep it. Please?" You added the please with a small whine for good measure, to make sure he wouldn't feel bad about it. He just nodded and started prepping you for the stencil.

This was your first tattoo, so you weren't exactly prepared for the cold liquid to be sprayed on your body, but when it was you couldn't help but flinch, which made your usually gentle boyfriend, push down slightly on your chest.

"Angel, I know you've never had this done, but for this I'm gonna need you to stay perfectly still once I get the gun out." His voice was stern and dry, a huge change in pace from the timid boy from a moment ago, but not an unwelcome one. You found it quite attractive the way he could switch back and forth like that. You just nodded, and went back to admiring him at work.

It had been several hours since he started the tattoo, it was decently painful, but at the same time felt really nice. You had finally adjusted to the way he was doing it, when he suddenly lifted the tool and stood up, readjusting himself. You thought he was just stretching after sitting uninterrupted for so long, but instead he moved onto the table where yo were, positioning his knees on either side of your hips, squeezing you gently to keep you in place. How flustered you were must've been clearly shown on your face because, still keeping the machine away from you, he leaned down and kissed you, you could feel his smirk in the kiss. He was loving this. You'd been watching him the entire time, not his work, but his face and body movement, and he knew it. He himself had a hard time keeping his eyes on his art. Your breasts were completely exposed to him, and he loved knowing that he was the only one allowed to see you like this.

He finally broke the kiss, giving you a moment to fix your breathing, and stop moving before returning to the tattoo.

It was nearing sunrise when the tattoo was done and yet you both still felt wide awake. He hadn't moved from his spot straddling your waist since he got there, ,but he did have to pin down your shoulder every so often when it tried to move on it's own. He was surprised that you didn't ask him to stop for a break at all. You were in a trance like state watching his every movement, but at the very least it kept you still. He brought his phone out and took a photo of "the tattoo" He told you, but you knew exactly why he was so precise with his angles.

#xavier thrope imagine #xavier thorpe #xavier x y/n #xavier x you #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe wednesday #wednesday fanfiction #xavier thorpe AU #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier x reader #percy hynes white #wednesday characters x reader #wednesday netflix #xavier thorpe x fem!reader #percy hynes white x reader #minors dni

2K notes · View notes

roronoacherries · 5 months

Text

𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐞 𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐞 | roronoa zoro

913 words

content: fem. latina reader, fluff, post time-skip, zoro watches reader dance and sing while she cleans the sunny.

notes: i miss rbd... yo digo r, tu dices bd, rbd, rbd!

zoro loves to watch you clean. he likes to stay back with you while the others explore a new island, knowing that you like to take advantage of the time alone. he’ll make himself scarce to let you work in peace but he's always there, keeping you company.

sometimes he closes his eyes to rest, enjoying the comfortable silence of the empty ship, hearing only the sound of you humming or singing softly; although most often, all he does is watch. it doesn't really matter to him; so long as he's near you, he's content.

there’s something endearing to him about the way you zone out, moving from one thing to another as if all the chore work came naturally to you.

she’d make a perfect housewife, he thinks to himself, knowing full well that if he ever uttered those words aloud, you and your tiny frame would make sure he hurt (and that thought is only further proof to him that you would be).

he likes it most when you play your loud latin music and sing along to it, almost always sounding terribly though he's convinced if you bothered to try you'd sound like an angel.

you hold the broom like a mic, singing each syllable like you feel it in the depths of your soul and zoro wonders what the hell you could be singing about; he rarely asks anymore, knowing well enough that it'll likely be a feeling you've never actually felt before.

you're dramatic and loud and he's certain that you wouldn't act this foolishly around anyone else. something he couldn't be more thankful for.

"y aquí estoy rendida a tus pies." you drop to your knees in front of him and the swordsman raises a brow, silently wondering how long it'll take you to sweep the room this time.

"y sé que no hay nada que perder..." you stand, stepping closer to him and your hand rests on his cheek and he thinks it might take at least another ten minutes for you to be done.

"pensando en ti," you lean in close, your hand falling into his and all that's left on his mind is that he could kiss you for those next ten minutes instead.

but you pull away before your lips can touch, fingers slipping from his as you sing the next line. "hasta que no me dejes ir."

you sing the chorus as you twirl around the room, picking things up from the floor, your eyes meeting zoro's enough for him to know that this time the song is about a feeling you know.

"no quiero vivir sin tu amor jamás..." you take a seat on his lap, your legs on either side of him and zoro's hands find their place on your waist, deciding not to let you stand up again.

"what're you singing about this time?" he grunts, his thumbs drawing circles into your skin.

"nothing special. just loving you and needing you and never wanting to let you go..." you say, pressing kisses to his face between every few words.

"what was that last line?" zoro questions, somehow knowing that whatever it was, you'd left it out. a part of him thinks he deserves a nice little treat for the spanish he's inadvertently learned from you.

you think about the line for a moment before translating it, "i don't want to live without your love, not ever."

and there's something left hanging in the air when you've said it. a twinkle of uncertainty in your eyes. something left unspoken.

"you won't."

it's the kind of oath that is rooted in regret. the kind that feels certain — set in stone, despite the impossibility of it. like he's promising you the stars and there's nothing you can do but believe him. it's not up to him whether you get to be at his side forever or not, but you believe it when he says you will.

"i missed you a lot." you can't help but say it and it feels pointless to mention, but you can’t put it out of your mind either. those two years taught you what eternity can feel like.

"i know," zoro’s lips brush yours without kissing you. instead, you feel his breath, the warmth coming from his body, and you wish you could get to know a different kind of eternity with him. closing the gap between you and him, you think this is the next best thing — the little taste of eternity on his lips.

"‘m going to love you for a long, long time…"

zoro doesn’t mean for the words to come off as romantic, doesn’t intend for them to make your heartbeat stutter, and you know that as well as you know him but they do regardless. the swordsman doesn’t even realize the sweetness of his blunt sincerity and you couldn’t love him more for it.

“i love you,” you utter the words in a faint whisper, pressing another gentle kiss to his lips before resting your head on his chest and listening to the music still playing. you could sit there in his arms forever, you think, until a familiar rapid beat meets your ears.

"da-ddy yan-keh..."

and zoro doesn’t fight it when you leave the warmth of his arms to dance again. he still has an eternity to hold you and to love you, anyway.

─────────────────────────────

taglist: @zorobraun @maaarshieee @lyriczhou @tinkywinky27 @dimimyth @gaby-chwan @tk6uro @zoros-4th-sword @idiotlittleme @zoronnoa

masterlist | taglist

#୨⎯ sol escribe ☼#zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece x reader #zoro fluff #one piece fluff #everybody say thank u josh andrés rivera for inspiring zoro's last line in this #love him mwah

264 notes · View notes

luvring · 2 months

Note

hi!! I’m not the anon who rq’d the ais falling in love with reader/mc but I would love if you could do a similar post for vere! big fan of when smooth talking pretty boys catch feelings and get mad about it…

VERE FALLING IN LOVE

gn!reader | here we go everybodayyy!!!

gaining vere's genuine affection and trust is tricky. you can entertain him, you can flirt, he can help you out or make deals, but seeing the 'real vere' takes work

so more than the others, there's a big danger of it getting messy. you could think it's going fast, but it could all be undone just as quickly if you step over a line or push him too far too fast

anyway. a lot of distrust in the beginning. obviously. he isn't surprised by this either. somehow, he says, you'd be just as dumb to trust him as you are not currently trusting him. you might think this doesn't make sense but it does

take him somewhere new, or try something new. he knows the city much better than you, so you have to think outside of the box. you aren't going to wait in a long ass line to get into that restaurant, you're going to make the meals yourself or sneak your way in. take him to a place that he's never gone because he thinks it looks and smells like shit, just because you heard a band was going to perform. go around daring each other to do things. maybe it all ends terribly, but vere tells you that it was enjoyable anyway (but let him pick the place next time, he's really questioning your taste)

if you're not much of a daredevil or thrill seeker, more just someone whipped going PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE that's fair. it works for softer or fluffier ideas too because he's not used to that, is he! say Let's go on a picnic with what few things i can afford, and we can draw each other, sit down and enjoy the sun on a roof or something. just ask him if he wants to grab dinner. nothing crazy or weird, you just want to go get ? pasta

^ with your luck something crazy happens, probably because of the guy you're with. vere apologizes after (doesn't really mean it) but, maybe to his surprise, finds himself endeared by your exasperation and looks forward to next time

scratches head. i was like why do i feel like i've thought these thoughts before. Um. my vulnerable vere headcanons. everyone feel free to check those out. truly because they fit here and i don't want to repeat them all LOL.

some other moments... standing up for/protecting him. he says he doesn't need you to help him, but you roll your eyes and say you want to, so shut up. no one should talk to him that way, y'know.

giving vere a genuine compliment too. saying his hair looks especially nice when the sun hits it, or that despite being an annoying asshole, you really enjoy his company and you're grateful you know him. he doesn't know what to do. he glitches a little. know that he'll be thinking about it for a While.

vere falling in love is threats growing empty, taunting pet names growing endearing, letting you touch him rather than the other way around, helping you when he gains nothing in return, sudden serious reassurance or advice, secrets and vulnerability he hates all exposed to you

like in the vulnerable hcs, whatever sets your relationship off the deep end for a while is probably some involuntary exposure. fear, regret, dread, an expectation of such.

the messiness of it all.....vere is avoidant, but he can be more aggressive, and won't falter as easily as someone as mhin for example. (sorry mhin. both of these guys may want genuine connection but mhin's emotions feel... more raw? more willing, more hopeful)

^ if he mocks you for thinking it meant anything, you need to say more than a "fuck you, you liar," to catch him. his walls are higher, he's been here longer—you have to hit hard. but also ?? Somehow not Too hard. he can kill you in the demo after all. and you're too close now for him to think of killing you (which is incredibly annoying to his avoidant brain), but he might do some (emotional?) damage he'll come to regret later.

the others notice quickly when they see both of you in bad moods and avoiding each other. i don't put it past leander to try making a joke like Where's vere? The both of you usually show up together, lovers' quarrel? and then going ...! Ah.

you might want to talk to ais, honestly. he already expects you when you walk in. and you try to ask for help and he's like. ? you sure you need my help, sparrow? i'm pretty sure you know what he's doing just as well as i do.

so kind of fruitless but hey you get a complaint buddy who fr gets you! he wishes you luck (you'll need it)

if/when vere falls in love it's Serious. he doesn't just open up to anyone. You are Not Just Anyone. This is it. he didn't think he'd let this happen, think it could happen, yet here you are. the level of trust and loyalty he has with you is .??!?! off the charts.

if you doubt how much he cares about you at this point, vere is genuinely confused because ?? After Everything? He knows you're smarter than that.

he really isn't trying to invalidate you though. he does his best to reassure you and remind you of all the things he'll only do for/with you!

Saying I love you? ............. guh

vere thinks about how he dealt with his feelings before, and he realizes he needs to get himself together because he doesn't want to project and hurt you again. < feels guilty for ages if he knows it hit deep

.. i just remembered his blushing smiling sprite while talking about ais and the luvring in me wants to think about vere taking that step before you. R U JOKING really go look at that sprite again. R U JOKING.

sigh. yeah yeah feels ooc leave me alone. ok. he's scared Because of what happened with ais. you tell him you love him and you stare at each other and his tail is unnaturally still and he tries to play it off. you tell him he doesn't have to say it back and he laughs because of course you're being annnoyingly (/affectionate) understanding even now

moving on. what if . established relationship with vere where you say "i love you" and he says "of course you do" and when you hit his arm and complain about him hating you he rolls his eyes and kisses you and says of course he loves you too.

and it's with a nickname like love you too, darling. love you too, hon. whaattt who said that ?!

what if vere is actually sooo whipped and gets mushy when he feels super safe and happy and while he's being doted on. his tail wags and his ears flick when he hears you and he can't believe you were gone all day, leaving no one around to give him attention Guys let's think about this. you compliment and kiss him and he tries to act annoyed but leans in because Who is Vere to Reject Attention From You. vere who's so endlessly amused by and in love with you that he keeps grinning while you banter with each other. who blushes when you kiss his nose and tell him you love him before finally getting out of bed. RAAHH!!

well. whatever. btw feel free to hold whatever he said and did during the messy break over his head. Fair Shot. like oh, might i remind you that you trapped me against a wall and pointed out a deep insecurity i shared with you because you were scared and angry, vere. You're going to deal with putting on these stupid matching outfits or else i'm getting back-up.

guys i'm being so serious about the affectionate vere thing. Walk with me. please. somebody walk with me....

new tag list form! can't tag :( | @theloststar @pelicanpizza @causenessus @chickenfingerswithasideoffries @priv_rose @ur-local-simp @respitable

#touchstarved x reader #vere x reader #vere #touchstarved #touchstarved game

160 notes · View notes

actual-changeling · 8 months

Text

i cannot resist a piece of good, painful angst, so have a little something inspired by this post by @quoththemaiden and the tags i left on it

Aziraphale returns to heaven in a haze of heartbreak and fear, his lips still tingling with Crowley's kiss, his fingers twitching with the urge to reach for him. The white sterility welcoming him only encourages his mind to drift further, allowing him to tune out the Metatron's words and focus on simply setting one foot in front of the other. If heaven has not changed in the last few thousand years, and he knows very well that it hasn't, there will be more than enough paperwork detailing anything and everything he is being told.

"Any questions, Aziraphale?"

They have stopped in the middle of a long, empty corridor, his eyes stinging with the bleach-dry air, and Aziraphale blinks, the smile on his face never wavering; it is a mask he knows he will not be able to drop for quite some time.

"Do I have an office?"

"You can make yourself one if you deem it necessary. I will leave you to it, then."

With a small flash of light, he is gone, and Aziraphale is alone. Right.

A few hours later, he has an office no miracle in the world could make cosy, enough paperwork to last him an eternity, and a persistent itch in his left hand. It is more irritating than bothersome, an anchor keeping him from floating away into the land of celestial regulations and legal frameworks, and he is trying (and failing) to keep himself from thinking about Crowley.

He needs him to deal with this, that much is clear without knowing anything at all about how exactly the second coming is going to transpire, but for the first time in six thousand years, Aziraphale finds himself wondering if Crowley will be waiting for him when he reaches out.

Absently, he scratches the back of his left hand, the itching seemingly working its way to the surface, and picks up the next folder.

'Re: The matter of opening a direct communication line between the Department of Miracle Accounting and the Department of Miracle Archiving.'

"You'd assume they'd done that ages ago," he murmurs, opening it with a sigh and squeezing his eyes shut when he sees the first document dates back to 3076 BC. A sudden wave of sympathy for Gabriel washes through him, which disappears rather quickly when he remembers he is probably having the time of his life on Alpha Centauri.

(Even if this all ends up in a puddle of burning goo we can-- go off together.)

(Go off together?)

Aziraphale slams the folder shut and pushes it to the side, creating a new 'unimportant/for later' pile since the other one is already structurally unsound and he'd rather not have to reorganize it when it inevitably collapses under its own weight.

He scrubs a hand down his face (I could always rely on you) and forces himself to take a deep, steadying breath (You could always rely on me) before reaching for the next one, halting when a shimmer of gold draws his attention.

(And I would like to spend-)

On his left hand, in the exact spot where the itch is… was Aziraphale corrects himself, and in its place, curled around his ring finger and weaving its way towards his wrist, is a golden snake. No, not a snake, he slowly realizes, it's Crowley's snake in all its glory, uncurled and with wide open, unblinking eyes, staring up at him.

"Fuck," he breathes, his right hand rapidly furling and unfurling. After not spending more than an hour or two in heaven at a time for millennia, he had completely forgotten about his angelic markings, which had looked very different before Eden. The exact images are hazy, washed out by time and apparently a fundamental change in his essence, because the snake lazily sliding around his wrist and closing its eyes as if to nap is both new and strangely familiar.

(Listen. Do you hear that?)

Tremors run through his body, fine and yet strong enough to keep him from opening the file, from reading, thinking, planning, his mind filled with fire-red hair and golden eyes and the taste of love on his tongue.

(I don't hear anything.)

Aziraphale cradles his marked hand against his chest, pressing his knuckles to his lips and trying to recall the few seconds during which he had felt whole. Happy.

(That's the point. No nightingales.)

The snake hisses quietly, or maybe he is already starting to lose his sanity, and its glittering scales provide what little comfort he can access in heaven, missing the white noise of London, the dusty quiet of his bookshop, missing Crowley, Crowley, Crowley.

#alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #supreme archangel aziraphale #angel markings #*gods voice* and they were soulmates #*satan's voice* oh my god they were SOULMATES

313 notes · View notes

profound-imagination · 1 year

Text

Something That We're Not - Xavier Thorpe.

Y/N has a secret, she also has feelings for a boy that doesn't have feelings for her but she's prepared to sacrifice everything for him and her friends, as well as revealing her secrets.

A/N - Maybe a little angsty, but I don't think there's any trigger warnings, took some liberties with Y/N's powers.

W/C 2.5k

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

How you'd ever been allowed to attend Nevermore you weren't sure, a school full of Sirens, Werewolves and Vampires but no Fae, no one like you. No half breeds. Books and films would depict your kind as light and goodness but in reality it was much darker, there was no ethereal glow that you carried, no beautiful wings like an angel, wings yes, but you could will yours in and out of existence and they were hard and leathery, like a bat. When you use your powers your eyes would turn black, your front teeth would elongate into fangs and the veins under your eyes would darken, much like the depiction of vampires in the popular show Vampire Diaries. No, there was nothing beautiful about being Fae. So you let them all think you're a witch with the magic you possess.

You had settled into Nevermore well enough after the school had reopened and had been taken in by an unlikely group of friends. None of them knew what you could do, what you were capable of, so the focus of everyone's attention remained on Wednesday Addams. A morbid girl who never had much to say, unless she had something to say, you liked that about her. Her best friend Enid had bounced up to you on the first day and announced you were adopted by their group. Her boyfriend Ajax was nice enough, always shared his joints with you and looked at Enid like she'd hung the stars just for him, you liked that for her. Xavier Thorpe was a bit of a mystery, he could make paintings and drawings come to life but there was something about him that convinced you he was capable of much more, he and Wednesday flirted between the lines of friendship and something more so you settled into life as a fifth wheel.

As the weeks went on, a tiny little spark of something started in your chest when you looked at the artist or when he smiled at you, or when he silently handed you a book he'd just finished that he thought you'd enjoy. The spark caught on fire when he'd taken you to his art shed and showed you the corner he'd set up just for you, fairy lights hung around it, a big comfy chair and fluffy blankets and all the books you could ever ask for. "I get the feeling sometimes the school is too loud for you, I see you flinch away from the noise, I thought you'd like some quiet place to escape to." He was right, the school was too loud for your sensitive hearing but you weren't about to tell him why. You smiled at him and nodded. "Thank you, Xavier." He smiled back and nodded as he handed you a key. "You're welcome here anytime, as long as you don't mind me painting here as well." Your fingertips brushed his as you took the key from him. "It's your place, Xav. I won't ever complain about you being here."

It wasn't long after that when the Normies started disappearing, you knew the signs, you knew what was taking them, the Fae, but how could you tell your friends without telling them how you knew, Wednesday had jumped headfirst into the investigation and so you laid clues for her to figure it out, left books where she'd find them that would give her the information she needed and you stayed quiet, playing the dutiful friend, listening to her theories while silently pining for the boy that was pining for her. You spent your evenings in the shed with Xavier, pretending to read at this point while you watched him over the top of your book, he'd caught you staring more than once and smirked back at you.

It was a Friday evening and he was practically bouncing when you entered the shed. "Two things to tell you!" Was how he greeted you, you laughed at him and placed your bag down next to your chair. "Okay! Spill it Thorpe!" He beamed down at you. "The first one I need to show you!" You nodded and smiled at him as he walked towards a covered canvas and pulled the cover off. Your breath caught in your throat. It was you, sat in your cosy chair, hair in a messy bun on top of your head, much like it was now, a book in your hand and you had a small smile on your face looking at the pages, the yellow lights of the room bathed you like an angel. Then it hit you, he'd used colour, he'd painted you in pastel colours, his usual style being charcoal drawings or earth tones. Movement dragged you out of your trance as he came to stand behind you, his hand bringing the painting to life, you turned a page, and looked up, the small smile on your face turned into a brilliant grin, you assumed that was you looking at him. Tears filled your eyes as you turned and threw yourself into his chest, your arms wrapping around his neck. "Thank you, Xav, it's beautiful, you made me look beautiful." You sniffled into his chest. His long arms wrapped around you. "I just paint what I see." He murmured into the top of your head.

"So what's the second thing you had to tell me?" You asked as you pulled yourself away from him. He grinned down at you. "Wednesday let me ask her to the Rave'N and said yes!!" You felt your smile falter for half a second and your heart that had just been soaring crashed and burned. You plasted a fake smile on your face. "That's great, Xav! I'm so happy for you!" He was still grinning like a fool. "Who are you going to ask?" You shook your head. "I think I'm going to give it a miss, I'll probably just sit here and read, too loud." He opened his mouth to argue with you but Wednesday burst through the door and the pair of them were off to investigate some lead she had found for her investigation. A lone tear slid down your cheek as you looked at the painting of you one last time before you covered it with the sheet again.

A week had passed since the shed and Enid had tried dragging you and Wednesday dress shopping, this year's theme being "Royal Ball" meant the girls would be in need of ball gowns. Enid was outraged that you'd decided not to attend, even Wednesday was unimpressed. "You mean I have to endure this particular form of torture alone?" She'd asked you. "You'll be with Xav, Wednesday, you'll be fine." You sighed at her and she didn't meet your eyes. "Actually before we head into Jericho I have something to show you both." You told them as you dragged them towards your dorm room. The two girls stopped in their tracks when they saw the two dresses on mannequins in your room. "Where did you get these?" Enid gasped, you shrugged. "I made them…for you." Enid to a step towards the dress that was clearly made for her, a pale pink gown with a silver snake that twisted up the bodice and around the neckline, an ode to her boyfriend. "You don't have to wear them or anything, I'm sure there will be nicer ones in town." You filled the silence, it was Wednesday who broke it. "No." You turned to look at her, you'd been too busy watching Enid to notice that Wednesday had moved closer to the black gothic gown you had made for her. "It's perfect." She breathed, a look of wonderment on her face.

You'd caved and sat with the girls when they got ready that weekend, helping them both into their gowns. "Have a wonderful night, you both look resplendent." You told them before you left. "Don't you want to see Ajax and Xavier?" Enid had asked innocently, you smiled at her and shook your head, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in your chest at the thought of Xavier turning up for a date that wasn't with you and headed out to the shed.

You fumbled in the dark for the light switch in the shed. The first thing you noticed was the canvas in the middle of the room, it was another painting of you, this time you were in a gown of sage green, spring flowers embroidered all over it, your hair was cascading down your back and over your shoulders, a beaming smile on your face. Then you noticed the big white box on your chair, two smaller boxes sat atop it, and a note.

"Enid and Wednesday told me you made them dresses, you deserve a dress too, even if I didn't make it. I'll save you a dance. Please don't leave me hanging. Xav."

You placed the two smaller boxes next to you and opened the biggest one, the dress from the painting was sitting in it, it was more beautiful than you could've imagined. He bought you a dress. He wanted you there. You opened the other two boxes, in one sat a pair of delicate heels, the other was jewelry and a pair of ear plugs that looked like another piece of jewelry it all perfectly complimented your dress, so you caved and there in the shed, you got ready to go to a ball, using your magic to do your makeup and tidy up your hair.

You stepped into the Rave'N about an hour after it had started, it was beautiful, you felt beautiful, all you wanted was to find Xavier and thank him for the dress and for always seeing you. You'd done two loops of the dance before you realised he wasn't there, neither was Wednesday. You found Enid and Ajax making out in a dark corner and left them to it without interrupting. Your heart felt like it was in your throat. He wasn't there, he'd left you hanging. Your hand subconsciously rubbed your chest where that uncomfortable feeling settled again and you headed towards the lake to sit in peace and feel sorry for yourself, you'd made it halfway when you ran straight into Xavier, Wednesday close behind him. "Y/N?" He asked, his eyes looking you up and down, you watched the realisation hit him, you'd put on the dress, you'd gone to the ball, for him and he wasn't there. Wednesday pushed him to the side before he could say anything. "Have you ever heard of the Fae?" She asked, the question took you by surprise and you shook your head. "It's the Fae that are taking the Normies and I think Xavier and I just caught their attention." She told you as she headed back towards the school, leaving the two of you behind.

"Y/N" Xavier said your name again as he reached out to grab your wrist. "Please don't." You asked him weakly, tears were filling your eyes. "I really need to stop believing in boys who paint me pretty pictures huh?" He flinched at your words and you sighed, wiping the tears from your face. "It's fine Xavier, don't worry about it." He pulled you back to him. "I hurt you." He stated and you shrugged. "Not intentionally, it's my fault really, I caught feelings and I shouldn't have." His eyes widened. "Did you really not figure that out, Xav?" He shook his head dumbly. "It's okay, honestly, I was never planning on acting on it or telling you, I see how you look at Wednesday. I got caught up in the dress, the ear plugs and the paintings and I read them wrong, you were just being a good friend." You pulled your wrist out of his grip and walked away as he called your name over and over.

Something had gone terribly wrong. Well several things. There was no comfortable friendship with Xavier anymore, you'd ruined that by telling him how you felt, you no longer went to the shed, he no longer made flirty comments at you or had the easy banter that there was before and all of your friends had picked up on it. Then the worst of them, the night the Fae attacked. You were woken by Bianca barging into your dorm, telling you to leave and explaining what was happening after you refused. You had assured her you would but instead you dressed quickly and clambered onto the balcony of your dorm. You willed your wings into existence and stretched them, flapping them a couple of times after having them hidden for so long and took to the sky, if you knew your friends, if you knew Wednesday, they'd be in the center of all of this, meaning Xavier would be in the middle and in danger. Your ears strained to hear your friends over the commotion as you flew closer to the quad. "Wednesday!" Your blood stilled, that was unmistakably Xavier calling for her, panic evident in his voice.

Perching on the roof overlooking the quad you saw your friends all but backed into a corner, all beaten, all bloody, Xavier stood in front of all of them, one arm cradled to his chest, clearly broken. Wednesday was less than a step behind him, Ajax covering Enid with his body. They wouldn't survive this, they didn't know how. This was it, they were going to see you for who you truly were, you didn't have a second to think as the Fae raised the bows they were armed with and took aim at your friends. You dropped from the ledge and landed In front of them, back to the Fae, wings flared, eyes locked onto Xavier's as one by one the arrows found a home in your wings and your magic pulsed out from you, knocking the Fae back and down, you'd bought only a few minutes, it would have to be enough.

"You all need to go." You told them as calmly as you could. Xavier was staring at the blood dripping down the wings he didn't know you had, Wednesday looked like she was piecing two and two together, Ajax was the only one who listened, dragging Enid with him. "Wednesday, break the arrows and take them out of my wings, quickly!" She nodded once and got to work. "Xav-" you started and he shook his head. "You're one of them?" He knew the answer but he asked anyway. You didn't get the chance to answer. "She's a filthy half breed!" One of the Fae spat from the floor, desperately trying to pull itself up. You met Xavier's eyes again. "I'm not wanted anywhere." You flinched as Wednesday was making quick work of removing the arrows. Xavier tracked your hand as you moved it to place it on his broken arm, he watched as his healed and yours broke. He watched as your hand pressed against the deep gash on his head and one opened on yours, Wednesday came back into view and you did the same for her, taking the worst of her wounds. "Go!" The Fae were on their feet again. "Wednesday!" She got the message, grabbing Xavier's arm and dragged him with all her might the same way Ajax had gone with Enid.

The last thing Xavier saw before Wednesday dragged him out of view was you, turning and limping towards a battle he wasn't sure you'd survive.

#wednsday addams #wednesday #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #ajax petropolis #enid x ajax #enid sinclair #wednesday netflix #xavier thorpe imagine

2K notes · View notes