#i may have gotten a bit ticked off there
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We're Getting Married Now?
Requested Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!LAPD!reader
Summary: When Tim finds out you need a fake boyfriend to take to your cousin's wedding, he steps up and offers to go with you. After a night in his arms, you learn that his "boyfriend act" isn't just an act.
Warnings: I referenced a few lines from The Rookie (no spoilers though), a few vague mentions of insecurities and rude family members (they apologize). lots and lots of fluff!! one bed trope?
Word Count: 4.3k+ words
Picture from Pinterest
Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List
When your phone rings on the way to work, you don’t expect to see your aunt’s name on the caller ID.
“Hello?” you greet.
“Hey, sweetheart. I was going through the seating chart for your cousin’s wedding and seemed to have misplaced your RSVP,” she explains.
“I, uh, I didn’t get an invite. She’s getting married?”
“Of course. You lot aren’t getting any younger, as I’m sure you know, and when she met her fiancé, well, I think we all knew. Anyway, you say you didn’t get an invite? Must’ve gotten lost in the mail, those incompetent kids aren’t as reliable as they used to be. I suppose that explains your lack of congratulations, though, which I’m sure everyone will be relieved to hear.”
“I bet,” you mumble before asking, “So what do you need from me? Sorry to interrupt, but I’m nearly to work.”
“Oh, yes, I’m sorry, I suppose the wedding planning is making me a touch scatter brained. All I need from you is a confirmation that you are attending. It’s at her fiancé’s family orchard, I’ll send you the address. Everyone is coming out Friday evening and the wedding is Sunday afternoon.”
“Uh, yeah, I have this weekend off. I may be a bit later on Friday, but I’ll be there.”
“And I’ll assume you’re still single, so no plus one. Although, sweetie, you really shouldn’t let this discourage you. I’m sure you have plenty going for you and the right man is out there somewhere,” she says, lowering her voice as pity laces every word.
“Actually, I’ll be bringing my boyfriend. If there’s room for one more, of course.”
The words come out before you can stop them, and after you slam your gear shift up and set your brake, you grip your steering wheel with both hands.
“Boyfriend? Well, good for you, sweetheart, I didn’t want to seem insensitive before, but your clock is ticking! I will put you down for two then. Oh, one more thing-“
“I’m actually at work and can’t be late. I’ll see you Friday,” you rush out before ending the call.
Hitting the back of your head against the headrest, you wonder who you can ask on such short notice. Getting a fake boyfriend is entirely avoidable, of course. You’d have to tell another lie about him being sick or dumping you or call your aunt and explain that her constant jabs at your lacking love life pushed you to speak without thinking.
“That would go well,” you murmur as you gather the strength to get out of your car.
She’d probably say something like, “Well then he just wasn’t the one,” before telling everyone that you did something to get dumped, or she’d remind you that you’re running out of time, it’s practically too late, so you should stop trying. You don’t mind being single, but she rips you apart, finding a way to make it your fault for being too busy with work, unwilling to compromise, or “looking too chubby in red.” (Her words.)
As you walk into the station and change into your uniform, you are struck with the perfect idea.
“Nolan!” you call, rushing to his side before he can enter roll call. “I need a favor.”
“Uh, yeah, I’ll do what I can,” he answers kindly.
“Long story short I need a fake boyfriend to go to my cousin’s wedding or my aunt will expose me as a dirty rotten liar who can’t get a boyfriend.”
“Wow,” Nolan responds. “Does she really- never mind. When’s the wedding?”
“This weekend.”
“Bailey and I are going to San Diego to meet Henry for a few days. I’m so sorry, I’d help you if I could.”
“Yeah, no problem. Thanks anyway,” you tell Nolan while looking for someone else you can ask. “Aaron!”
Aaron turns in the doorway, stepping back toward you and Nolan with raised brows.
“What’s up?” he asks.
“I need a date, a fake boyfriend for a wedding this weekend.”
“I don’t do weddings.”
“Aaron, please,” you plead.
“Look, I’d love to help you, but my family’s got a big dinner thing this weekend and they rarely end well, so I’m booked.” He pats your arm and adds, “Hope you find someone who can help.”
You nod as he walks inside. Looking around the station, you realize your options are very limited.
“Think Angela would let me borrow Wesley for a few days?” you ask Nolan.
“Why don’t you just find someone to actually take as a date?”
“Because that’s the entire problem, Nolan. I can’t get a date.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”
As you follow him into roll call, you whisper, “I’m going to have to ask Smitty.”
Nolan stifles a laugh, shaking his head as he takes his seat. You tune Wade out after receiving your assignment for the day, glancing around the room as you try to find someone else you can ask. Maybe you should just cancel, tell your aunt that you’re the one who got sick, and now neither you nor your boyfriend can make it.
Standing in the bullpen, you have your aunt’s contact pulled up on your phone but can’t seem to press the call button.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Sergeant Bradford,” Nolan says. “I need some advice.”
“I already don’t like this, but go ahead,” Tim replies, resting his hands against his belt.
“If a fellow officer, a close friend, was going to cancel going to a family member’s wedding because she couldn’t find a fake boyfriend to keep her controlling aunt off her back, would you help her?”
Tim doesn’t answer, turning away from Nolan. As he walks toward the bullpen, Nolan raises a fist in victory, hoping it works out for you and Tim. It’s clear to everyone that you have feelings for each other, but neither of you seems eager to do anything about them. Maybe this is the push you need to take the next step.
✯✯✯✯✯
Tim’s hand covers your phone screen before he takes it from you, holding it by his side.
“You need a fake boyfriend?” he asks.
“Who told you? ... Nolan, I should’ve known not to trust him and his big mouth.”
“Who’s getting married?”
“My cousin,” you answer, pursing your lips in confusion about why he’s interested.
“The cousin from the aunt that manipulates and belittles you every time you see her?”
“I’m still sorry for calling you that day, I shouldn’t have. Just didn’t have anyone else to cry to.”
“She lied to you, told you things about yourself that couldn’t have been further from the truth. So, now that you have lied to her, what are you going to do about it?”
“Cancel,” you whisper. “If I can just press the button to call her.”
“I’ll call her,” Tim offers, raising your phone. “Or I can go with you.”
“Tim, I can’t ask you to do this- to lie for me and spend your weekend off at a wedding, around people you don’t know.”
“You’re not asking,” Tim reminds you. “Which one? I make a call, or I go with you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.” Tim smiles while assuring, “We’re friends, and we’ve been on vacation together before. This is just like that.”
“I don’t want to go…”
“But you don’t want to deal with the grief you’ll get if you don’t. I get it, but I’ll help in any way I can.”
You nod, taking your phone from Tim. “Thank you.”
“When do we leave?”
“Friday night. The wedding’s Sunday.”
“Two days before? Why?”
“I don’t even want to think about that right now.”
Tim raises your right hand, pushing a bent paper clip over your finger as he promises, “I will make sure you survive this weekend.”
“And I… will apologize in advance.”
✯✯✯✯✯
When you get out of the shower Friday night and get dressed, all you can think about is the weekend ahead. If you or Tim get uncomfortable, you could put your relationship on the line to look like a happy couple in front of your family.
Tim’s knock draws you from your thoughts, and when he takes your bag from you, you realize something: Tim already acts like your boyfriend, so he really is boyfriend material. Your crush on him is bound to be affected over the next 48 hours, but he agreed to this, so maybe there’s a chance he feels more than friendship, too. Shaking the idea from your head, you accept Tim’s help as you climb into the passenger seat of his truck. He waits until he’s on the freeway to ask you about the wedding and your family.
“What’s the fiancé like?” he asks.
“I haven’t met him. Didn’t even know they were getting married until a few days ago.”
Tim nods, laying his elbow on the center console and moving closer to you without thinking.
“I- I want to go ahead and tell you that you don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. My family can be a lot-“
“I’m not here for them. I’m spending the weekend with you, and nothing more. Remember that, okay? So, if you need an excuse, a buffer, anything you want or need, that’s me this weekend.”
“I can never repay you for this.”
“I’ll give you a call next time I need a wedding date,” Tim suggests.
“Deal,” you reply with an easy smile.
✯✯✯✯✯
Someone squeals your name, and Tim grips your hand when you flinch.
“I’m so glad you made it!” the woman says, pulling you into a hug.
“Of course. And congratulations!” you reply. “Sorry about the invitation confusion.”
“Oh, no worries, I get it. Stuff happens. My mom said you were bringing your boyfriend?”
Tim steps forward, wrapping an arm around your waist as he offers his other hand. “I’m Tim, the boyfriend your mom mentioned.”
“Oh,” your cousin says, shaking his hand. She looks between you and Tim, and as you begin to expect a sarcastic comment, she says, “Nice to meet you, Tim.”
“That wasn’t so bad,” Tim whispers in your ear.
“I guess I could’ve been overthinking it,” you admit.
“You’re in chateau Sauvignon Blanc,” a man says, passing a key to Tim. “Follow the white path and you won’t miss it.”
“The chateaus are named after wine,” Tim muses. “Must be nice to be marrying into a family of nepotism.”
You laugh at him, and when he refuses to let you carry your bag to the chateau, you fall into easy conversation on the short walk. Entering, however, you stop in the doorway.
“What’s wrong?” Tim asks quickly, stepping forward so his chest presses against your back.
“Nothing, just- there’s only one bed in here,” you say quietly.
“I think we can make it work. There’s always the floor if you want to treat your fake boyfriend like that,” Tim jokes, closing the door and tossing your bags on a nearby chair.
“I- why’d you agree to come?” you ask him.
“You needed a date.”
You don’t quite accept that. It’s not enough reason for someone as logical as Tim Bradford. You don’t have time to question him further, though, as you receive a text that dinner is being served in the main tasting room in just a few minutes.
“Hey,” Tim says, laying his hands on your shoulders. “We’re two people on vacation together. It doesn’t have to be awkward.”
“Sorry. It’s just, this isn’t what I was expecting.”
“That’s okay, but we’re going to keep moving. No one knows me here, so I’m whatever-“
“I need you to be,” you repeat. “Thank you.”
Tim smiles, and you take your bag into the bathroom to get ready while he changes. When you exit, wearing your favorite outfit and hairstyle, Tim stands, offering both his hands.
“You look stunning.”
“Clean up pretty nicely yourself, Mr. Bradford.”
“Oh, so you’re a flirty girlfriend?”
You roll your eyes, attempting to pull away from Tim. He tightens his hands around yours and pulls you into a hug, hooking one arm around you as he leads you back to the white path.
✯✯✯✯✯
Sitting beside Tim, your hand stays in his until the food is served. So far, all of the attention has been on your cousin and her fiancé, and you’re more than happy to listen along to their chatter rather than talk yourself.
“What about you two?” your grandfather asks. “How’d you meet?”
Tim moves his hand out of yours, patting above your knee as he answers, “We met at work; different divisions, but we joined forces for a narcotics bust and I just couldn’t get her off my mind, so I had to ask her out.”
“How long have you been together?” someone inquires.
“5 years,” you and Tim say together. You add, “But we’ve only been serious for what? 6 months or so?”
“Since you finally agreed to my begging, you mean?” Tim asks, sending you a comforting smile. “Yeah, about that.”
“Cute,” your cousin comments before the conversation returns to her.
You close your eyes and release a breath, leaning toward Tim when his hand covers yours again.
✯✯✯✯✯
“How are we doing this?” You ask, standing at the side of the bed with your arms wrapped around your waist.
“It’s a bed,” Tim says, blinking at you. “Seems pretty straightforward.”
“Well, yeah, but… what if I, like, snore more or something?”
“I’ll live. Just get in the bed.”
You crawl under the covers, murmuring, “Thought you were gonna call me boot there for a second.”
“I still may,” Tim responds as he turns the light off, lying beside you. “Is this okay?”
“Yes. Thank you, Tim.”
“No problem.”
✯✯✯✯✯
When you wake up, it’s a few minutes before dawn, and a strong arm is holding you against the mattress. When you try to move, Tim pulls you closer before tucking you against him as he relaxes again.
“Friends on vacation,” you remember, pressing your cheek against his chest as you get comfortable.
Suddenly, you remember you have to survive another night by his side. The idea makes you want to pull away, but his touch and heartbeat lull you back to sleep before you can.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Your cousin is here,” Tim whispers, shaking you gently. “She wants to talk to you about dresses.”
“You’re a snuggler,” you mumble as Tim pulls you out of bed.
“No one will ever believe you,” Tim says darkly.
“Is she really here?”
“I wouldn’t lie about that. This isn’t a horror movie.”
Nodding, you pick up a change of clothes and move into the bathroom. Tim’s voice is muffled through the wall, but you can tell he’s being civil even as his patience wears thin. Straightening your outfit, you open the door and smile at your cousin and Tim.
“You’re wearing that?” she asks.
“You’re beautiful,” Tim says, smiling at you.
“What exactly are we doing?” you ask.
“I wanted to see the dress you’re planning to wear to the rehearsal tonight and the wedding and reception tomorrow. If you need something different, we can-“
“I won’t need different dresses,” you interrupt. “I like the ones I brought.”
“As do I,” Tim adds. “But I’ll leave you two to talk about dresses.” He stands, kissing your temple and pausing by your side to whisper, “Call if you need someone to save you.”
Smiling, you tell him to be careful. Your cousin waits until he leaves to sit on the end of the bed, waiting for you to show the dresses you packed.
As you hold them up, you remember Tim's compliments this morning as you hide your smile at her surprised reaction. And his arm around you last night. He’s taking his fake boyfriend duties seriously, and you’re unsure if your feelings can survive another night beside him.
“They’re pretty,” your cousin says finally. “I have a few more things to do before the rehearsal this evening, but I’ll see you around.”
“Congratulations again,” you call, exiting the chateau behind her to look for Tim.
When you round a corner on the white path, you run directly into Tim. His arms come up to catch you, holding you against his chest as he raises his eyebrows in surprise.
“Did it go okay?” he asks, rubbing a hand down your spine.
“Yeah. She said the dresses were pretty, so that was unexpected.”
“Wait ‘til she sees them on you,” Tim replies. “Can’t imagine getting upstaged at my own wedding.”
“What do you want to do for the rest of the day? The rehearsal isn’t until 5 and then most of the wedding party is leaving for bachelor and bachelorette parties.”
“You could model the dresses.”
“Stop,” you plead, laughing as you press against Tim’s chest.
“It’s my duty as your boyfriend.”
“I knew I should have asked Smitty.”
Tim narrows his eyes, shaking his head. “Don’t make me think about that.”
✯✯✯✯✯
“Where do you think the red path goes?” you ask.
“Are you asking me on a treasure hunt date?” Tim replies.
“Maybe. Care to follow our own version of the yellow brick road? See if you can find your usual personality on the way back to Kansas?”
“You don’t like my new personality? The one I created just for you?”
“Tim,” you warn. “Red path, yes or no?”
Tim takes your hand, leading you out of the chateau and back toward his truck before turning onto the other path.
“If we find a crime scene or something,” you begin.
“What?” Tim interrupts dramatically.
“If we find something unexpected, what then?”
“Wait,” Tim calls, gently pulling you back toward him. “What is this about?”
Glancing down, you say, “Last night.”
“Look, if I made you uncomfortable-“
“No, not at all. The, uh, the unexpected part was how much I liked it,” you admit quietly.
Tim taps his knuckle lightly against your chin, smiling as you raise your head to look at him.
“Just tell me what’s bothering you.”
“I don’t want to ruin anything. We’re friends, and I care about you, but this weekend could ruin everything if I make one wrong move.”
“You said it yourself, we’re friends, and we’ve been friends for years. Walking on eggshells around me all weekend is unnecessary, not to mention more dangerous than just telling me you like being cuddled.”
“You like being cuddled.”
“Never say that aloud again.”
You chuckle, taking Tim’s hand as you begin walking again. After a few minutes of walking in silence, you stop.
“The red path looks exactly like the white path,” you point out.
“Not true. The red path is red, and the white is white.”
“Wow. You should have been a detective.”
“Are we on the same page?” Tim murmurs.
“Yeah, I’ll be myself with you this weekend. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Nerd.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry, Dorothy.”
You roll your eyes, walking away from Tim. He laughs before taking a few long steps to catch up with you. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, Tim apologizes, and you lean against him, trying to remember what he said about being honest.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Hi, sweetheart,” your aunt greets you as you enter the venue for the rehearsal dinner. “You are at table 2, and your boyfriend is at table 9.”
“You didn’t seat us together?” you ask.
“Well, it was late notice, learning you were bringing a plus one. Sorry.”
“Uh, okay. Thanks.”
Tim lays his hand on your lower back, leading you to your table.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, reaching over the table before leaving.
You watch him walk to his table, switching a nameplate before returning to your side. He sets his nameplate on the seat beside you, sighing as he sits.
“Have I told you recently that you’re the best?”
“You don’t have to, I know,” Tim answers smugly.
“What do you want to do when this is over?”
“Planning ahead, aren’t we?” Tim smiles as he leans toward you.
✯✯✯✯✯
Exiting the venue, you take Tim’s hand, wrapping your other hand around his forearm as you walk beside him. He tugs you closer, keeping you close until you’re back in your chateau. After changing quickly and washing your face, you collapse onto the bed.
“I thought my family was tiring,” Tim jokes.
“Still up for cud- lying closely on the same piece of furniture?” you correct.
Tim leans over you, smiling as he says, “Since you asked so nicely.”
You stare at the ceiling until Tim returns and pulls you into his side as he lays beside you. Rolling against him, pressing your ear to his chest so you can hear his heartbeat, you accept that things are changing.
“I don’t think we can go back to how things were before,” you mutter.
“Me neither,” Tim agrees softly, moving his hand to your upper back.
“Did I ruin everything by letting you come with me?”
Tim rolls onto his side, facing you rather than holding you.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow? Does everything get awkward after the wedding?”
“You didn’t ruin anything,” Tim answers. “I offered to come because it was an opening to spend time with you.”
“But-“
“We’re friends, right? That’s what we say but that’s not how it feels.”
“How does it feel?” you whisper.
“Like more. Tell me you’ve been pretending, and I’ll let this go, but nothing I’ve said this weekend has been a lie or an act.”
“I have feelings for you,” you confess. “I have for years, but I didn’t know how to tell you or what you’d think. So…”
“We both did. Stay quiet to preserve a friendship that could have been much more.”
Inhaling deeply, you move forward, closing the distance between you and Tim.
“You asked what happens after the wedding,” Tim says. “I’d like to keep going from here.”
“I’d like that too.”
Tim smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist as he rolls over, pulling you with him. You laugh against him, falling silent when you look into his eyes.
“Can I-“ Tim begins.
“Kiss me,” you demand.
Tim cups your cheeks as he pulls you down against him, kissing you softly. You slide your arms over his chest, holding his jaw as you reciprocate his every move. Tim’s arm tightens around your waist before someone knocks on the door.
Pulling away, you sigh before getting out of bed, cracking the door open to see who it is.
“Hi,” you greet, surprised to see your aunt outside.
“I moved your seats for the wedding and reception,” she tells you. “Since you seem inseparable.”
“Thank you.”
“Sorry for earlier, and for interrupting. I’ll see you at the wedding.”
After you close the door, you press your hand against it and take a few breaths, surprised by her apologies.
“Are you okay?” Tim asks, sitting up as he watches you.
Walking back to his side, you lie down and move against him, smiling as you answer, “I’m great.”
Tim holds you close, both of you falling asleep on the same side of the oversized bed. When you wake up the following morning, you chuckle at the sight of it, with one side still made after a night in Tim’s arms.
✯✯✯✯✯
“You’ve been in there for a while,” Tim calls, tapping his knuckles against the bathroom door.
“Maybe she was right,” you answer. “I mean, the dress looked great on the mannequin, but…”
“Open the door,” Tim demands.
“No.”
“I will kick it down. You know I can.”
You pull the door open before he can do anything, and Tim’s eyes widen when he sees you.
“You look…”
“I know.”
“Perfect.”
Furrowing your brows, you look down at the dress.
“How do you feel?” Tim asks. “In the outfit, in general?”
“I feel good, really good.”
“Well, you look even better. Don’t let whatever someone said make you think otherwise. And I was right.”
“About?”
“You’re gonna look better than the bride.”
Tim’s smile, accompanied by his kind words, makes you smile, wrapping your arms around his waist as you hug him tightly. Your relationship with him has changed this weekend, and you’re still giddy because you can tell him you love him whenever you want.
“I love you,” you say against his suit.
Tim pulls back quickly, looking into your eyes as he asks you to repeat it. After you do, he smiles and replies, “I love you. I’ve loved you for years.”
“We’re going to be late,” you remind him, narrowly dodging a kiss.
Shaking his head, Tim offers his arm, keeping you close as you walk to the wedding venue entrance. Finding your seats, you sit beside Tim, pulling one of his hands into your lap as you look at him.
“Those bouquets are really bright,” you say.
“Our wedding will be much better,” Tim agrees.
“We’re getting married now?” you ask, smiling.
Tim looks at you from the corner of his eye, shrugging as he says, “Why not?”
“I love you, Tim Bradford.”
“Thank you for letting me be your boyfriend this weekend,” he replies. “I love you.”
“Oh, you’re going to be my boyfriend for a lot longer than this weekend.”
“And after that?” Tim asks, interlacing his fingers with yours.
“That part is up to you, I think.”
You stand, keeping your hand in Tim’s as the wedding procession begins.
“Then, yes, we’re getting married,” Tim whispers. “But it will be perfect.”
Keeping your attention on one another throughout the ceremony, you fall in love with Tim again. After the bride and groom walk down the aisle together, you pull the paper clip ring from your dress pocket. Tim stands, and when he turns to you, you raise it.
“Tim Bradford, will you be my boyfriend?”
Tim chuckles, pulling you up to kiss you before you slide the ring onto his finger. He had nearly forgotten about giving it to you before leaving the station but seeing it on his finger makes him even more eager to marry you someday.
#tim bradford x reader#tim bradford fluff#tim bradford imagine#tim bradford x you#tim bradford the rookie#tim bradford#the rookie#the rookie abc#requests#fem!reader
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Karma Rules (Mechanic Harry Part 6)
Summary: A phone call from Niall and its aftermath changes your perspective. Can a fairytale be fixed?
Warnings: alcoholism, drunk harry, over drinking, unhealthy coping, miscommunication, angst, mentions of alcohol abuse, hangover.
Please do not read if these trigger you.
Wc: 8k
A/n: Please keep in mind that this is just fan-fiction and some bits about the hangover may not be 100% true, as every individual is different than the other and deals with it in an another way.
Rereading part 5 is good for refreshing your mind!
This is also the final part!
Part 5
When it came to receiving good and bad news, people generally preferred getting the bad news first so that the good ones would soothe them. You followed that preference as well, but you didn’t always have a choice.
Not when you moved away from home, not when your car broke down, not when you discovered the truth about your “job”.
And certainly not right now.
The phone was still pressed to your ear, Niall’s voice was coming out muffled and incoherent. Your heart was banging against your ribcage, and still, the blood barely reached your other organs. You couldn’t move, or put two and two together. Not even ask him what happened.
The room was suddenly dark despite the lit light bulbs in every corner, the clock necklace that you didn’t even get to thank Harry for was ticking around your neck. It was the only sound you could hear as if it was torturing you on purpose.
Tick tock.
A reminder that whatever happened to Harry was your fault. Maybe if you had stayed—
It wasn’t an ideal timing for your brain to taunt you and make you feel pathetic. Niall’s voice was calling for you, asking if you were listening but you were simply trying to pull yourself back to the present.
Your body fell against the sofa, and you dug your nails into the cushions. The clock was still piercing your ears because you could grab it right now and reverse it but you won’t go back in time to change whatever had happened.
What did he get himself into?
“Are you listening to me?” Niall’s panicked voice urged you to focus. You were obliged to ignore the nausea and the guilt your brain was throwing already. Because that’s how things went every time, you only needed a simple situation for your brain to torture you.
“Can you repeat what you said?” Your throat was as dry as the desert. You thought about standing up and getting a glass of water, but you’re not sure if your hands would be able to hold it.
“It’s Harry! He’s fucking drunk—way too drunk. He doesn’t drink Y/n, he hates alcohol.” His tone told you all you needed to know. It pained Niall to say it like he was on the verge of tears.
Was he talking about the same Harry that drank herbal teas and scolded your food choices? You were somewhat worried that he might have gotten into a car accident at a race, but he didn’t. So why does this feel worse?
“I—what?” It wasn’t the best you could say in a conversation like this, but it was better than the radio silence.
“Listen, he’s in a really bad state. He’s lucky that he’s a bit conscious.” He sighed, clearly worried about his friend.
It was nearly nine, not so late in the evening. For how long was he drinking to get to this state? You never saw him drink nor did he open the subject. Your legs moved before you processed what you were doing.
“I’m coming.” You spoke as you headed toward your bedroom.
“I didn’t want to stress you, and I know you’re wondering why I chose to call you but he’s been mumbling things about you.” You stopped in your tracks at his last sentence, your fingers placed at the light switch, too numb to move.
“What did he say?” You whispered in a shaky voice.
“I—don’t know, it was all weird and—“ His voice was cut off as his attention turned to Harry. He mentioned some things about drinking water and lying back. The last thing you expected was for Harry to speak.
“Did ya know that she smells like strawberries?” It took him longer to say the sentence than normal. It came out slurred with hiccups, and a small laugh.
“Shit—drink water H.” You could hear Niall pouring him a water cup.
“Sweeettt. Y/n is sweet.” Niall didn’t have to answer your previous question, you were witnessing it yourself.
It is said that a drunk mind speaks a sober heart, and that scared you more than it comforted you. Niall was trying to soothe Harry, and get him to have that cup of water but to no avail.
“I’m not nice. She deserves nice.” His words weren’t as coherent but you caught some stuff through the speaker as you put on a random jumper and sweatpants.
“I’m coming Niall.”
“You don’t have to—I’m here.” He moved away from Harry whose voice got distant but was still mumbling stuff.
“No, I’ll be there shortly.” You hung up before he could object.
It would take you around 15 minutes on your bike, normally you avoided going out when it was dark but you didn’t have any rational thoughts swimming in your head.
Your mind was consumed by him the entire road. Why would he do that? Just because you left? But again—you were no one to him. Just an employee. So why did he mention you and blurt out weird stuff?
He might have kissed you and let down his guard a couple of times but that didn’t mean anything, right?
It’s surely not a big deal, everyone probably knew that your hair smelled like strawberries, that you’re sweet, and deserved someone nice. Or did they not?
You had nothing in mind on what to expect, you didn’t even know what you were planning to do—but you weren’t going to sit around at home while he was in this state.
All the overthinking kept you busy until you reached his house. The little yellow home that reminded you of warmth, is now radiating coldness. You dreaded going inside, fearing what would be awaiting you.
Was it your fault? Did that mean that you mattered to him?
You got off your bike, grabbed your bag, and headed slowly towards the front door. Niall must have left the door slightly open for you, but before entering—something jumped at your legs.
You looked down to see an antsy Snowbun circling around your feet.
“What are you doing out here?” Per your knowledge, he should be asleep in his small bed by now. You picked him up and cradled him in your hands.
“Are you running away from Harry or Niall?” The latter was his sworn enemy. Snowy replied by twitching his ears, earning a smile from you.
“Let’s get inside, shall we?” You scratched the top of his head before turning the doorknob and entering.
The once vibrant house filled with music sounding from the record player, and the smell of home-cooked meals was now dull and cold. It could be the open windows allowing the night breeze to sneak in, or the absence of Harry’s energy.
Everything was a mess.
The living room was untidy, and there were broken shards of glass around the floor with the smell of whiskey lingering in the air.
It wasn’t necessarily dirty, but it somewhat reflected Harry’s state, as his house could mimic his inner feelings. Snow Bun jumped out of your hand and headed towards his bed in the corner.
For a hot minute, you thought that Niall left considering how empty the house felt, until you heard his voice coming from Harry’s room.
“Hey—just lay here.” Niall seemed like he was trying to convince Harry to rest. You sneaked a glance inside the room, only to find Harry attempting to get up and walk—towards you.
“Not dreaming.” He let out a small laugh upon seeing you.
Niall sent you a soft smile before directing his attention back to Harry.
You have never seen him in such a state. His face looked like he had aged a hundred years, his eyes were tired and hollow, and he was barely conscious.
You stood motionless, trying to process his situation, what he had done and most importantly why.
You wanted to step forward and assist Niall who was lifting him to the bed, but your body was stuck in its place. You have seen your fair share of situations and were always unaffected, but Harry had an unusual effect on you, and maybe—you did too.
“Shortcake.” He hiccuped again, accepting the cup of water this time. He took two sips only and rested his head against the headboard.
You were aware of his direct stares, but you didn’t speak or move. You bit your nails as Niall tucked him under the duvet. He was slowly dozing off by the minute, with less mumbling that you didn’t quite catch.
The room went silent except for the sound of crickets coming from the window. You stole a glance at Harry who sounded so relaxed while sleeping despite his disturbed state.
You let out a sigh of relief once you were sure that he slept, at least he would get some rest.
“How much did he drink?” You whispered to Niall with a scratchy voice.
“The whole fucking bottle.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and motioned for you to leave the room.
You closed the bedroom door and followed him into the living room. He began picking up the shards of glass, so you kneeled to help him.
“How did you know that he was drunk?” Niall was visibly upset with what went down, he was his close friend after all.
“I didn’t… I just happened to pass by. I haven’t heard from him in a while.” He shook his head in disbelief, so you assumed that whatever this was, it wasn’t common.
You picked up the remaining pieces and disposed of them in a bag. You arranged the rest of the living room silently with Niall, but the silence was just too loud.
“Niall?” He turned his head to you.
“Yeah?”
“Most people get drunk—like it’s not right but it happens. Why did you freak out?” Your curiosity was getting the best out of you. You weren’t dismissing Harry’s state—it just didn’t make sense.
Niall dropped the broom to the ground and took a seat on the couch.
“Harry has had a rough past y’know? It wasn’t ideal.” You sat down as well, giving him your attention.
“He had an abusive alcoholic father. It’s not my place to say much, but it left an impact on him.” He spoke as if Harry was his biological brother. It was clear that he cared for him deeply.
You swallowed down your throat upon Niall’s confession. He hated alcohol. It must have reminded him of darker days. He barely opened up about his childhood to you, but many things clicked for you.
“I’m sorry that I troubled you. I was just shocked because he never got drunk, let alone drank in the first place.” He clasped his hands together and spoke with sorrow.
“He was in the worst state ever. I couldn’t understand why he kept talking about you.” He swiped his hand through his hair and gulped down a cup of water.
“What did he say?” Your voice was timid and small like you were dreading to know the truth. It may deny or confirm something.
“Stuff about you being an angel, that he messed up?” He shook his head, trying to remember some details.
“Also that you were too delicate or something.” He scrunched his face at his lack of memory, unaware of your expression.
Is that what Harry thought of you? It was so overwhelming to find out all of this within a short time frame when his actions did not reflect what Niall was saying.
You didn’t doubt that Harry was a good man, not at all. But to hear these words so casually, as if they weren’t the sweetest things you have been told—
“Sorry—I didn’t know he had feelings for you.” Niall broke the silence.
“Feelings?” You questioned, attempting to control the tears that were threatening to fall.
“I mean—the way he spoke about you…it was emotional. I called you because I thought he’d need you.” He scratched the top of his head, rethinking what he had done.
“It might have been something destructive because he never drank—“ He didn’t complete his sentence, and stared at the wall instead.
He must have caught on to your cluelessness and took a step back. You were picking at your nails with your head lowered down. Everything hit you like a rollercoaster and you needed space.
“You don’t have to stay Niall. I can manage.” You assured him.
“I can stay, I don’t mind.”
“You’ve done a lot already. You’re a good friend.” You tipped him a smile and he understood the cue.
“If you need anything, just call me.” He stood up and walked towards the door, before giving you one last glance and leaving.
Conveniently, Snow Bun ran in your direction as soon as Niall was out of the door. The little bunny jumped on your lap and got himself all cozy.
You instinctively patted his head and cradled him. A few tears fell down your cheeks against your will. You pushed back everything you were thinking of and walked to the refrigerator.
“Are you hungry? Harry probably couldn’t feed you.” Just the thought itself made you incredibly sad for no reason. Perhaps, it’s the fact that underneath it all, Harry was just a guy who loved his privacy and spent time with his bunny.
The more you recalled nice gestures that he did, the more tears fell. You weren’t sobbing, but everything was hitting you all at once. Whatever you processed this evening was hard to consume, even in small doses.
Snow Bun immediately began nibbling at the strawberry you offered him. You couldn’t help but recall when Harry fed him in front of you, it was a happier night.
You’re glad that he feels safe to take food from you. Was he able to sense Harry’s mood?
You offered him another strawberry which he ate comfortably like a baby. You placed two more for him in his bowl and cleaned up around the house to pass the time.
There wasn’t much to do, a few dirty pans, messy pillows and blankets all over the place, and a bit of Snowy’s dry food that fell out of his plate.
You opened more windows and lit a candle to allow the whiskey smell to fade. Thankfully, the broken glass was the first thing you and Niall cleaned up—but you were still skeptical about it.
You picked up the broom that Niall dropped earlier and cleaned under the couch to make sure that there was no glass left.
You felt a sharp pain in your chest upon wondering how it shattered. Did he lose his balance and drop it? Or did he do it out of frustration?
Your train of thought was interrupted when the broom collided with something. You could feel that it wasn’t glass, so you pulled it in your direction and reached your hand under the couch to grasp it.
It was a notebook.
It was already open, and your eyes landed on what was written. You flinched, feeling disrespectful for taking a glance despite not helping it. You wouldn’t want someone to look through your journal—but your eyes were glued to the words.
A few lines were scribbled at the top of the page including your name with Harry’s handwriting that you memorized so well. Yet, these lines were blurred out due to the scribbling—but you could make out the word ‘apricity’.
Underneath them were the clear unscratched lines that made you let out a silent gasp.
Starry haze, crystal ball
Somehow, you’ve become some paranoia
Just like a nepenthe
But your gift is wasted on me
You allowed your fingers to touch the paper, to make sure that this was real and that you weren’t hallucinating.
You quickly moved on to the lines under them and your knees nearly buckled.
I was thinking about who you are
Your delicate point of view, I
Was thinking about you
The last line ended on a whim and was more of a question than a sentence.
Just you?
You closed the notebook and threw it on the couch like it was poison. You were breathing heavily and your legs carried you straight to the refrigerator for the cup of water you’ve needed since Niall called.
You gulped down two cups frantically as if it would help you process or erase what you read.
Finding out that Harry most likely drank because of you, and might have had feelings for you was enough. But to see that he wrote lyrics about you?
Maybe it was scary because it was a concrete confirmation. It shut down the overthinking and the endless questions just with a glance at a piece of paper.
The suffocation was threatening to close up your chest, not caring about the soft night breeze and the lit candle that smelled like Harry.
It seemed as if his secrets were unfolding with any action that you took. There’s only so much you could handle in one night, so you laid down on the couch. You will sleep here, you won’t leave him alone.
You covered yourself with a blanket and were soon joined by Snow Bun who made himself comfortable next to you.
You contemplated grabbing a book from your bag but even that doesn’t seem to work anymore.
You wondered what could soothe a person if not books.
Still, there wasn’t much you could do. It was close to eleven and you would soon fall asleep—but until then your mind would get the chance to torment you.
What will you do when he wakes up? Will you have the courage to ask him about everything? Does he even want you around?
These questions and many more went through your head as you shifted on the couch. Though, that seemed to annoy Snowy who was trying to sleep, unaware of all the troubles.
Being a bunny is quite easy.
——————————————————
Harry struggled to open his eyes. His brain didn’t aid him and was not functioning properly, the same way car engines fail to roar. A tiny grunt left his lips, he was attempting to regain his consciousness, despite being overwhelmed.
A sharp pain stemmed from his head, the one people get from being beaten with a bat. He felt out of place as if he switched bodies with a completely different person who neglected themselves.
His bones and muscles didn’t ache—but the fatigue was embedded in all of his atoms.
Another grunt was elicited, followed by a hiss. The morning sun sneaked through the window, casting its light on his tired figure. It burned his eyes and worsened the pounding headache he felt.
His mouth was dry like a man who hadn’t taken a sip in days, he could feel it with every grunt as he swallowed down his throat in an attempt to hydrate his system.
“What the—“ He mumbled, forcing his eyes to open again as he collected the energy to raise his hand and shield his face from the sun.
The neurons in his brain worked hard to transmit signals. He needed just one memory to recall—a reason even to understand what led him to this state.
He buried his face in the pillow, relieving himself from the sting of the morning light. He groaned as the headache became unbearable.
What did he do last night?
The few cells that got to work urged him to connect things and conclude a reason—the headache, fatigue, and memory loss all pointed towards the unthinkable.
But no, he wouldn’t. Right?
He possessed great self-control, confided his sister in when he felt suffocated, and would never allow himself to resort to a destructive outlet.
No matter how torn he felt, how maimed and beaten his heart was—he prided himself in needing no one and repressing his sadness.
Right?
His muscles worked together to lift his body slowly. He supported himself on the mattress with his hands and observed his surroundings with squinted eyes.
Everything seemed normal, nothing was out of place. The bedroom was tidy and neat, the way he always maintained it.
Yet, his attire had him confused. He never went to sleep with his work clothes, he either slept shirtless or with a clean tank top.
He couldn’t help but bring his hand to his temple. The pain was unbearable, flashing like thunder and echoing in his skull.
Attempting to piece some bits of information together was a tough task, let alone when he couldn’t quite remember whatever went down the previous day.
His senses gave him a push until his brain connected some dots and realized what his mouth felt like besides dryness.
It was Whiskey.
“No—“ It would be a reasonable justification. His body warned him when he first opened his eyes, but he was in denial.
Fatigue, muscle aches, headache, thirst, and in his case— feeling like absolute shit.
“What did I do?” He groaned, in response to his pain and stupidness.
He’s had his fair share of atrocious headaches and fatigue, yet he was never subjected to immense emotional maim that led him to this state. Not even in his younger years. He vowed to never touch a bottle in his life. He had a few beers as a teenager, but that was the extent.
He never wished to become a spitting image of his sperm donor or inflict harm upon others using alcohol.
Something that he must have done.
Recalling the cause of his ache was effortless; not because of its intensity or his functioning memory. But because he simply could never push someone like you out of his mind, even when he was in a foggy state.
“Y/n.” He whispered under his breath.
He was in shambles upon reading your letter. He needed an outlet to empty his pain. A pain that he inflicted upon himself and you.
It was an internal battle; treating you like shit to push you away, when all he wanted was to hold you and kiss your soft lips.
How could he even dare to have you? The most delicate being he ever met. You were an angel that fell on earth accidentally. Maybe god was searching for you, but Harry wanted you selfishly to himself.
He didn’t deserve you, well no one did actually—but a boy could dream.
Your soft aura and charming personality would never fit in a million years with his dark heart and destructive thoughts. You were so delicate that he feared breaking you, and if that ever happened, he’d never forgive himself.
He was a weak man when it came to you. Your contagious smile, books, warm personality, and kind manners. Love was never on his agenda, he didn’t even have any vision for his future. Nothing but his career maybe, but of course, you’d tip his scales over.
You became his dream, someone that he wished he could have. He didn’t realize that his heart was betraying him, leading the tide against his rational thoughts.
In some way, he was a prisoner of your presence. You simply had to walk inside the room he was in, and all his problems would evaporate.
Even when he first met you, despite his cold tone and expression, he was deeply enamored by you. He never wanted to find out information about a person this bad, he needed to know who you were.
He didn’t consider himself a dedicated reader, sometimes a book here and there but—a philosophy he once read stuck with him.
The philosophy of Descartes, his dualism, and the notion of mind and body being distinct, yet intimately related. It was logical to him to a certain extent but as of late, Harry created his philosophy.
The mind and body were foes; often joining together to set up a scheme. This scheme was to torture Harry. His body belonged near you, but his heart kept him up at night. They were allies for once, simply to dismantle his sanity and imprint invisible bruises on his body.
And so they managed to trap him, render him a fool in front of you, and destroy any small chance he might have had.
He gathered all the energy left in his fatigued body and got up from his warm bed. The sun’s rays burned his eyes yet embraced his skin lovingly.
He wondered why Snow Bun wasn’t next to him, it was against his habit but maybe he was just roaming around the planted strawberries again.
The first thing up was brushing his teeth, getting rid of the awful smell was essential. He hoped he wouldn’t have to do this again.
The sight of his tired face in the mirror had him double checking. When did it get so unbearable?
For most people, this was barely an issue—but for Harry, it tipped his life upside down.
He doesn’t go well with emotions, communication or even figuring out what the other person wants.
“Shit.” He splashed cold water on his face before grabbing a clean cloth and drying it.
He would need a while to feel better again, to accept what had happened, and avoid leading himself to that state.
He had a quick cold shower to give himself the illusion of being clean, even when his system wasn’t. The fresh set of clothes and cologne elevated his mood, and the sting of the water helped with his headache.
He needed a nutritious meal despite the nausea bubbling in his stomach. Besides, where the hell was Snowy?
Harry reached for the doorknob as wet droplets from his hair fell on the ground. He barely advanced a few footsteps before stopping in his tracks.
He had an inkling that his feelings toward you, and the letter you left influenced his actions last night. But, seeing you asleep on his sofa with his bunny cuddled to your chest was not on his list.
He stood in the doorway with barely a few breaths coming in and out of his nose. As if a time traveler somehow arrived at this moment and froze his body.
Could he still be dreaming?
He wasn’t worthy of your presence, not even in his dreams.
He didn’t even deserve the wasted sun rays that hugged him earlier. They should’ve poured their focus on you, just like they were doing this instant. Your skin was covered with gold, somehow glistening more than any other human being. This is how an angel sleeps, he thought.
He was so jealous of the sun, envious even. It got to kiss every inch of your skin and keep you warm, unlike him.
The golden color stretched to your perfect hair, shut eyelids, and soft raspberry mouth. Your chest rose slowly, even your breathing was delicate.
He didn’t blame Snow Bun for liking you one bit, even a bunny knew how pure you were.
He didn’t mean to stare like a creep, but funnily enough, his pet blew his cover. Snowy awoke from his peaceful sleep and disrupted you in the process.
You peeled your eyes open and looked down at the moving bunny who had enough sleep. It seemed like you did too as your body felt satisfied with the hours you rested during.
The room was bathed in sunlight and warmth, and surprisingly to your right—was Harry standing motionless.
“Harry! You’re up.” Your legs moved before your brain processed anything. You were up on your feet in no time, facing a confused yet tired Harry.
“H—hi.” He swallowed down his throat.
“How are you feeling?” Your hair was all over the place and you couldn’t tell what your face looked like, but you had to check up on him.
The night went by quickly, and the next thing you knew, he was standing next to you, hopefully sober.
“Pretty shit.” He pressed his lips together, ignoring Snowy’s thumbing on the floor.
For an unknown reason, his response elicited a tiny giggle out of your lips. One that eased his headache.
“I—“
“Do you remember anything from last night?” You beat him, feeling way too curious.
You had a plethora of things to say and discuss, stuff you should’ve said long ago.
“Just a bit. Not the entire picture.” He bit on his tongue, feeling the blood drain from his body.
Standing in front of you, seeing you, and hearing a question that was brought up yesterday triggered a sudden flashback.
How Niall dragged him to bed as you stared at him with fear and worry.
So he fucked up again.
“I’m sorry.” He blurted out before you managed a response.
“What for? You barely remember what happened.” You shrugged.
“Everything.” He averted his gaze downward in shame.
It was out of a movie scene, two individuals facing each other in a sunlit room, way too stuck in their heads to see right what’s in front of them.
This moment was ageless. Your torn expression and his sorrowful face. Your sympathy and his regret. A powerful duo indeed.
Only in instants like these was silence positively uncomfortable. The silent eye contact back and forth, uncaring for the ticks of the clock, or what lies behind the eyes. The invitation to open your hearts broadly for one another, without shame or hesitation. Just two young beings diving into each other’s souls, passing control over to their bodies and hearts; even if they betrayed them.
He offered you an immense amount of vulnerability that he’s never given to anyone, simply by eye contact.
As if your souls had a secret language that they used.
“I—“
“Well—“
You spoke at the same time before stopping in shock.
“You speak first.”
“No. You talked first.”
He gestured for you to speak, and you swore you have never seen him this polite and held back.
“Hmm. I know this isn’t an ideal timing and that it’s quite rough for you right now. But how about breakfast and a mature conversation?” You asked with your bottom lip hidden between your teeth.
“I’d love that.” He nodded with a weak smile. The only one you managed to get from him for what felt like ages.
You refreshed in the bathroom while Harry prepared breakfast. It was similar to when he cooked you lunch. The same aroma drifted in the air with the sound of the oil sizzling and the same warmth that radiated from the house.
But this time, it was more awkward knowing that a conversation awaits. What were you supposed to say, and should you take the initiative of starting small talk?
You washed your face with water for the second time, dreading the return to the kitchen. You offered to cook since you knew he wasn’t feeling well, but he insisted saying ‘It’s the least he could do’.
Snowy managed to follow you to the bathroom (after he had his breakfast), and you smiled at his excited thumping.
“Let’s go.” You cradled him and returned to where Harry was using his chef skills.
He looked up the moment you walked in, offering you a gentle smile. Your heart ached at his gesture for no reason.
“Are you feeling okay now?” You cleared your throat as you sat on a stool near the counter.
“Somewhat…My headache is a bit better.” He scratched his head, avoiding eye contact.
You nodded, moving your attention to Snowy who was clueless and happy in your lap.
“I remembered some stuff.” He mumbled rather quickly as he flipped chocolate chip pancakes.
“Oh?” It was a good sign because you didn’t know how to tell him that he randomly mumbled stuff about you.
“Um, yeah…” He remained silent for a few seconds and checked in on the delicious scrambled eggs he was preparing.
“I’m sorry you had to see that last night.” His words reeked of shame and guilt. There was a sense of vulnerability in what went down, and for a man like him, it would be a hard pill to swallow. After all, someone else had seen his weakness.
“Harry, I—“
“No, just let me say a few things.” You hadn’t expected him to begin talking now. But, it seemed that you were too busy admiring his tired face to notice the plate he slid in front of you.
“Eat please.” He gestured to your plate with concern when he was the one who should be fuelling his body.
“You need it more.” You argued, with signs of worry flashing over your face.
Sweet sweet shortcake, Harry thought. Always putting others before you.
The look of determination on your face was evident. Besides, could he ever say no to you?
“Look, I’m eating.” He grabbed a pancake from his dish and took a bite.
You swallowed thickly and joined him in taking small bites of food. He felt more full just by watching you eat contently. He tried to ignore the whirling thoughts in his brain, whether or not you had dinner last night.
“I’m sorry again.” Harry gathered his courage and looked into your kind eyes.
“It wasn’t your responsibility to help me, nor Niall’s.” An undertone of pain was hidden in his voice.
“And it was all very immature of me.” You could tell that it was hard for him to maintain eye contact, you’d struggle too if you were in his place. So, you averted your gaze away to relieve him.
You didn’t interrupt him, it was clear that he had many things to say.
“I ruined your evening, made you worried, and had you sleep on an uncomfortable sofa.” He swallowed down his throat, with his fingers digging crescent marks on his palm.
“I’ve put you through so much just because I do not know how to communicate.” He shook his head in disappointment.
“We’re humans, we kind of designed to miscommunicate.” You shrugged.
“Not to this extent shortcake.” His eyes held the key to everything. You used to think of him as an enigma, or impossible puzzle. But now, he was like a flowing river that held all of his thoughts that had been pressing to come out.
“I—It’s not an excuse but I’m not a fan of alcohol and I’ve never been drunk.” He swiped his hand through his hair, finally caving into his anxiety and averting his gaze.
Going with the flow and confessing that you knew was not an option. You wanted him to open his heart out instead of making him feel like he was already exposed.
“And my father was an alcoholic—“ He took a deep breath and remained silent for a few moments.
“Harry, you don’t have to push yourself to talk.” You whispered despite being alone in the room.
The signs of tiredness on his face were somehow getting worse, and a single tear slid down his cheek. Your hand immediately reached out to wipe it, making him stare lovingly.
He didn’t reply verbally. Instead, he softly grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles with his eyes shut as if he were pouring something into the kiss.
“Sweet shortcake.” He gave you a hint of a smile as he gazed into your eyes.
“A fly wouldn’t dare to hurt you, yet I did.”
“Stop blaming yourself.” You grabbed a strawberry from his plate and brought it to his mouth. He accepted it contently and went back to silence.
The staring was not unpleasant like you thought it’d be. It was a continuation of standing in front of each other in the living room. Just two souls speaking in a different language.
He caught you off guard by breaking the silence with a shocked yet joyful expression.
His hand reached out to your neck where the necklace was dangling beautifully. He ran his fingers over it, before turning it backward and smiling at the engraving.
“You wore it.”
“Of course, might be my favorite necklace so far.” His smile was so broad that he seemed as if he had forgotten all about life’s worries.
“It suits you.” He couldn’t take his eyes off it.
“Because it’s special. Uncle George gave it to me and told me all about it after I left your garage.” You unintentionally broke the joyful bubble by reminding Harry of the awful events that led to this moment.
His expression slowly fell until his hand retracted away from the necklace.
“Harry—about that letter, it was immature of me. I should have faced you—“
“It’s completely your right. I’ve been so fucking shitty. I didn’t even deserve an explanation.”
“Don’t say that—“
“I’m serious. You wasted your kindness on me.” His hands were under the counter, but you had an inkling that they were shaking.
“I have a lot to explain and—“ He continued to ramble vigorously.
“H, breathe.” You stepped off the stool and went to his side.
He was rushing to tell you everything, not giving his body or mind a chance to process because he needed to explain himself. He’d go on his knees if he had to. His anxious rants and fast train of thought were nothing but an outcome of fear.
Fear of losing you.
A small part of him still believed that no matter what he said or did, you would still leave. Even if he ripped his heart out and gave it to you as it leaked black blood on the kitchen floor.
So he fired with everything that made him vulnerable, just to keep you, or at least the thought of you if you allowed.
And you knew that, god you knew. It had you fighting back tears as you faced him.
“You’re still very tired. And we don’t have to talk about every single detail right this instant. You need to rest, we both do.” Your hand caressed his cheek softly, and his face unconsciously leaned in.
“We need time to think, feel, and process what happened. I’m not going anywhere, Harry. I just won’t work for you anymore.” You weren’t the best confronter, but judging by the look in his eyes, you weren’t doing so bad.
“And—when the time is right, we’ll talk about many things.” It was your turn to tear up now, and of course, he mimicked what you did earlier by wiping your tears away.
“Can I say one last thing?”
“Yes.”
“You have bewitched me, body and soul.” He took pride in saying it, his eyes raking all over your face to save your reaction in his memory.
The slow appearance of your dimples, the soft furrow of your eyebrows, the realization dawning on your face followed by the most adorable giggle he has ever heard.
“Did you just quote Mr.Darcy!” You covered your mouth with your hand.
“He’s my number one inspiration.” His dimples made an appearance and god you’ve missed them. They brought joy to his worn-out yet beautiful face.
There was a certain undertone to his statement that had you holding back another giddy smile. One of them indicated quite the resemblance between him and Mr.Darcy. How he was cold towards Lizzie at first when he was simply smitten all along.
‘He’s my number one inspiration’
Was your story similar to theirs? Was he your Mr.Darcy? Bitter yet soft when faced with the possibility of losing you?
Another suggestion that knocked the breath out of your lungs was the sentence that would follow.
‘You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, love you.’
He didn’t utter it, but the idea of him even quoting your favorite book ever sparked goosebumps all over your skin.
“How did you even know what he said?” His eyes were glued to your smiling face, and if he ever lost his memory, he begged any existing divine being to only keep this sight of you.
“I read it.” He confessed proudly as if he were an Emperor flaunting his possessions.
The bluebirds have arrived and made themselves comfortable near the window. They would soon begin their orchestra as scheduled.
“You read Pride & Prejudice?!” You gasped unintentionally, causing a faint blush to creep up his cheeks.
He hummed with a grin threatening to break on his face and chewed on some eggs as you admired him.
You ached to ask him why he read this specific book. A part of you knew, but the other part craved to hear it.
Harry read your favorite book.
“Actually… speaking of reading.” You swallowed down your throat and readied yourself for your confession.
He turned his attention to you, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
“You read a new book?”
“No—I’m in a reading slump honestly. My first one.” Your face fell, something that he immediately noticed.
“Oh—“
“It’s fine.” You shrugged, dismissing the issue. It did pain you but that wasn’t your current focus.
“What I wanted to say is that—I was cleaning some broken glass yesterday…” His jaw clenched at the mention of the glass. He didn’t think about the mess he caused, and bringing it up brought the guilt back.
“And I found something.” You were still trying to articulate proper words, but his facial expression saddened you.
Harry couldn’t decide if his brain wanted to pour its attention on blaming him for the broken glass or think about the ‘thing’ that you found.
“Yeah?”
“I did not mean to look—actually that’s a pathetic excuse.” You covered your face with your hands and let out a small groan.
“My eyes landed on some written stuff and I couldn’t stop reading your notebook.” You blurted it out as fast as possible, with an antsy body language.
“Shortcake—“
“I’m really sorry…that was rude of me, but I—“
“Calm down.” It was ironic how he managed to soothe you with two simple words.
“It’s all good, m’kay? Besides, the poem is about you shortcake.” Another proud confession left his lips as if what he said wasn’t so destructively beautiful.
You were always the reader, and never the writer. But Harry canceled both possibilities and made you the muse.
“I meant every word, and I always will.” He whispered as if the bluebirds would hear him and steal his sacred poem.
You could feel your eyes swelling with tears, your left knee was shaking and you couldn’t maintain eye contact with him.
“I’m sorry this is a lot to take in.” You covered your face from embarrassment.
“No pressure, shortcake.” He assured you with a thousand knives going through his heart.
Snow Bun broke the tension by thumping repeatedly until Harry kneeled, and picked him up.
“Someone wants attention…” Harry chuckled before Snowy jumped out of his lap, straight to his plate on the counter, and helped himself to strawberries.
“…or my strawberries.” He shook his head in disappointment for falling into Snowy’s trap.
Your laughter echoed in the room, overshadowing the birds’ songs. A laughter that healed Harry, and reflected his happiness.
“Do you want more food? Are you full?” He gestured to your empty plate.
“Thank you H, I’m all good. I think I’ll head home now.” You got off the stool and grabbed your bag from the sofa.
“Yeah—Okay. Let me dress up quickly to drive you.” He was heading towards his bedroom before you stopped him.
“No, it’s okay. I have my bike.”
“I insist, it’s the least I could do—“
“H, stop saying that. I promise I’ll be fine on my own.” He studied your facial expression to try and figure out if you genuinely do not need the ride.
“Besides, I don’t want you driving immediately after yesterday night, you should rest and I need some fresh air.” You tipped him an honest smile that had his heart pumping.
“Sure, whatever you like.” His hands were in his pockets as he stood facing you.
‘I don’t want you driving immediately after yesterday night’ had him frozen in his place.
It toyed with his heart and messed with his blood pressure. You said it so casually as if it didn’t indicate that someone cared about him—and not just anyone, it was you.
His shortcake, his delicate girl.
You walked towards the front door as Harry watched with intent eyes. After a few steps, you stopped and turned around in his direction.
He was taken aback by your action and straightened his posture.
“I’m really glad that you’re safe.” You blurted out, as you looked into his emerald eyes. He didn’t get the chance to form a response before you engulfed his body in a tight hug.
His hands immediately wrapped around your body, savoring what you offered. You warmed him up in a few moments more than the sun that woke him up.
A whiff of your strawberry shampoo was stuck in his nose and that was all he needed to feel better.
Somehow, his hands were perfectly molded for your waist, and your height was perfect for him to lower his head and lay it against yours.
Despite his wishes and dreams, you pulled away from the hug with a soft smile painted across your face.
“Bye, H.”
“Bye, shortcake.”
It was an easy departure, not filled with heavy weight on your chest or guilt. The complete opposite of your arrival last night.
You weren’t trying to avoid Harry when you said that it would need time, but you knew that some space would do good for both parties. Pondering and reflecting was a necessity, especially for Harry.
The yearning to hear Harry’s explanations remained nestled deep inside you. Your patience would undergo a practice with a small hint of knowing what was coming.
For once in your life, you didn’t jump to conclusions stemming from your anxiety. What you felt, heard, and saw was enough.
You didn’t want Harry to rush everything because you could feel how the sentence was on the tip of his tongue, along with quoting Mr.Darcy.
He had feelings for you, and it was mutual.
You allowed yourself to feel the giddiness and rush while simultaneously acknowledging past events.
What led you to write the letter, Harry’s coldness and ignorance but also his sudden moments of warmth and kindness.
Denial wasn’t an option for you. You felt attracted to him since day one, and rightfully so. As for his feelings, you’re yet to delve deep into that topic.
Time does not heal, but it’s more of a breather. Last night was emotionally charged, but it somehow changed your life upside down.
He didn’t specifically confess his feelings, and nor did you. But you kept going back to those moments of silence when your souls had a quiet chat against your knowledge. Perhaps they confessed then because you really know.
If you were to think deeply about it, Harry did the one thing he vowed to never do just because he thought that he lost you for good.
It pained you to even consider it, but that indicated how much you meant to him.
Drinking to punish himself, his poem, his apologetic sweet face, his urge to spit out every single excuse his heart held, and his body that held you as if he was shielding you from the world.
He was the man you read about in your books, with all of his good and bad traits. In fact, he was better than them because he was real with a beating heart that you listened to when you hugged him.
The past would not be forgotten, it would be vaguely memorized to learn from your mistakes as human beings who were designed and destined to commit mistakes.
The next best thing after sunshine, books, strawberries, bunnies, and poems was second chances and fresh beginnings.
Even with the knowledge that many mature conversations await you, there was something comforting about this morning that carried a whiff of warmth in the air.
Harry liked you, and you liked Harry.
Taglist: @matildasatellite @xxrosebunny @novasblogofstuff @gem1712 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @miasdelicatepov @jessitpwk @tiaamberxx @peacheskiwi @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tbsloneely @20031990s @prettythingsworld-blog @st-ev-ie @slut4marvelmenn @missmielyhoran @a-strange-familiar @wandas-lawyer @cherrycokeslay @blepskies @that-daydream-look @hslt-2809 @ivegotparticulartaste @epidxte @kiwilikesmeow @sagggy @harryssideboob @malwtilda @harrysficreblog @hsonlyangelxo @adachhi @tpwkkkkk @kiwilikesmeow @sagggy @epidxte @indierockgirrl @annesauriol @leenameh @scottisantman @hrryberry @summertime-pills @lhhrryismyhome @marzhshaim @harrystylessslut @nysworld @keepdrivingkisses @rideeonstyles @rueluvsharry @lomlhstyles @infinatetatie @igglepiggle22 @namelesssav
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#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles smut#harry styles oneshot#harry smut#harry styles story#harry styles imagine#harry styles blurb#harry x reader#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fic#harry styles book#harry styles writing#harry styles one shot#harry styles masterlist#harry styles wattpad#harry styles angst#harry styles fluff#mechanicrry#mechanic harry#harry styles series#harry fanfiction#harry fanfic#harry fluff#harry angst#harry x y/n#harry styles au#mechanic!harry#mechanic h
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short and sweet | ghost/soap/könig
sorry to the anon that it took me so long to get out, i've been dealing with some stuff but here it is! thank you for requesting, and as always, i hope you enjoy <3
pairings: ghost x reader, soap x reader, könig x reader
warnings: bigotry, misogyny, people just being jerks, canon typical violence
summary: in which three buff military men become all too aware of your struggles. (based on this request)
simon 'ghost' riley
when the idea of simon having a crush comes to mind, i feel like he's one of those people who prefers to observe them from afar rather than have direct interactions with them
so that paired with the fact you're not in the 141 and you're mute, it's gonna take a very long while until you two start interacting, at least a few months after he realizes he's taken a liking to you
they'll usually be pretty short and sweet, but not in the typical sense you may be thinking of
i'm thinking something more along the lines of giving each other a small nod of acknowledgement when you pass each other in the shooting range; him having already practiced and you just barely walking in to start practicing
and honestly? he's completely fine with this arrangement
in fact he prefers it
he still gets a chance to give you a once over without getting distracted from the things he wants/needs to do throughout the day, he considers it a win
but when your target practice slowly begins to overlap with his, he's a bit surprised to find that he doesn't really mind it all that much
there's something oddly comforting about knowing you're just a few stalls down from him
and of course there's the added benefit of him getting to see you and your signature sniper rifle in action
for those of you wondering, yes, he's become quite aware of your talents
how could he not when soap made himself comfortable at his table during meal time and went on about, "a real cute girl and her impeccable aim."
soap's words, not his
and it continues on like this for a while, you two continuing on with your unofficially official meeting times
it becomes comfortable and familiar, two things simon isn't quite used to, but two things that he's quite content with
so he can't help but feel a little empty when you stop attending your unofficial meetings at the shooting range
he's more frustrated with himself than anything cause, let's face it, he's not the type to let himself get comfortable/familiar with just anyone so he's honestly more annoyed that he let himself get attached when he hasn't even made a move to properly talk to you (what a silly goose)
anyway, in true simon fashion he decides to deal with it by not dealing with it
in other words, he just kinda continues on with his routine because he's become so numb to the idea of people leaving his life (no matter how big or small of a role they played) that he doesn't bother acting out on any emotion he has if it does happen
and i think after a while he'll just kinda end up pushing you out of his mind (despite the fact his eyes are fully glued onto you whenever he sees you around base)
so when you walk into the range and make yourself cozy at your usual stall, he's a bit frazzled
so much so he ends up packing up his equipment and making a beeline for the exit
but it's at this moment he bumps into a particularly bratty group of recruits they'd gotten not too long ago
he has to practically hold himself back from snapping the poor kid's neck when he asks simon if he'd seen you enter the range
call it extreme, but the mocking smile that stretched across the recruit's lips as he said your name just ticked him off
simon is a man of intuition and so he can already tell something's not quite right so, curious, he just gives off a gruff, "yes," before waving them off
he's surprised that he manages to bite his tongue when he can hear of the recruits whisper a small, "what a fuckin' arsehole," as they walk away from him
anyway
cue him silently stalking after the group and being met with the sight of them crowded around you as you lay flat on your stomach, hands still steady on the rifle
he watches as you line yourself up to take the shot before eventually resting your hand on the trigger and pulling it, only to miss when one of the recruits purposefully kicks at your shin
another recruit makes herself comfortable beside you with a grin spread across her lips as her voice rings out in a mocking tone, "aw, poor thing missed her shot again. it's a wonder she's made it this far."
while his eyes narrow in confusion at your lack of response, it only eggs the girl on as she nudges your shoulder
"still can't talk, i see," she lets out a wistful sigh, "that's a shame. i think you'd sound really pretty screaming out for help on the field."
another recruit takes this as their chance to jump in, "guess we'll just have to leave her stranded. better for us anyway, no dead weight."
the girl by your side rolls her eyes, "we probably won't even get the chance to abandon her, she's so tiny. she'd probably get squashed like an ant before we could even try anything."
her remark elicits a laugh from the small group of recruits, but ghost certainly isn't smiling when he approaches the group and stares down at them with his trademark glare
they can definitely feel their souls leave their bodies when they look up and see him standing over them menacingly
it gets even worse when he opens his mouth, "that any way to talk to a fellow soldier?"
they all just kinda stumble onto their feet at his words, not bothering to say anything as their eyes remain pretty much glued to the floor
he's not having it though so he'll repeat his question, tone louder and meaner than before which causes one of the recruits to just let out a meek, "no sir."
too bad it was the one who insulted him earlier cause he immediately steps in front of them and just kinda, "what? arsehole not good enough an insult for ya?"
you, still lying on the ground and watching everything unfold, can't help the small smile that tugs at the edge of your lips as you witness the way the man's face visibly pales
upon receiving no response from him, simon straightens out his posture before point over to you and speaking once more, "you better pray that girl is more forgiving than i am, because if it were me, you'd all be covering your own asses out on the field."
he watches with great joy as they each begin to shift on their feet uncomfortably before dismissing them in a gruff voice
after making sure they left, simon makes his way back over to you who is still lying on the ground with your rifle as you line up your shots once more
he feels a small wave of pride overcome him when you hit your target perfectly
so much to the point where he walks over to you and spills out a quick, "good aim," to which you'll look up at him with those gorgeous eyes of yours and give him a small nod of acknowledgement
his eyes narrow, "you don't talk much, do you?"
you simply shake your head
he'll give you a quick once over before looking down at his watch and realizing the dining hall will be closing soon
tempted as he is to just walk away, he can't help but wonder if you'd already ate
so he speaks again, "dining hall is closing in a bit. you're free to join me if you haven't eaten yet, was just on my way."
you pause for a bit and give it a bit of thought before nodding and packing up your stuff before eventually walking out of the range with simon by your side
you don't have the heart to tell him you already ate
but when you look up and see him quickly avert his eyes from you and onto the pavement beneath your feet, you don't see why you even would
john 'soap' mactavish
when i tell you this man was gone the moment he saw you, i mean he was GONE
he genuinely couldn't believe someone as sweet and lovely as you could exist in the same space as him
but the moment he sees you shoot that gorgeous little rifle of yours with a precision that could only be described as pure, raw perfection? it's over. he's all in.
i'm talking, 'fuck me up and send me straight to heaven. this is how i die.'
he's so down bad for you it's insane
and i imagine soap can be quite confident and charming when he wants to be so best believe he'll have no problem in walking straight up to you and trying to strike up a conversation
i'd like to put emphasis on the 'trying' part of that last bit because it becomes quite clear quite quick that you're don't talk
well
maybe the 'quite quick' part isn't so accurate because it probably takes him a minute or two before he finally catches onto the fact you don't talk
in other words, it takes you pulling out your phone and looking up a volume muted symbol and pointing at it before motioning to yourself for him to catch on
he just kinda makes an 'oh' face before letting out a small chuckle and saying something like, "i see now, why didn't ya just tell me that before?"
and you're just looking at him like ???
but he's looking at you like :)))
yeah he's being a little ridiculous right now, but he just got back from a long mission and he's quite sleep deprived so don't mind him he's just being a silly goose, ok?
but truth be told, that dumb little first interaction doesn't even really matter in the long run because it's the bold initiative on his part that makes it so easy for the two of you to become friends
you spend a lot of time hanging around one another and your once carefully planned, scheduled days turn into unpredictable blurs that are jam packed with soap getting the two of you into trouble
i imagine you've become quite familiar with the stoic face of captain john price
but really, how could you not?
especially when soap catches onto the fact that price is more inclined to let soap off with a warning for whatever trouble he's got himself mixed up in whenever you're around
he may be older than the rest of his team, but he knows that dopey grin soap's got plastered on his face whenever he's around you means he's extra sweet on you
and who is he to stand in the way of his boy's happiness with some extra chores?
he's a total dad <3
anyway
because you spend a lot of time around soap, i think it's fair to say that you sometimes end up pushing off work in favor of hanging around the scotsman
and really who could blame you?
he's got a dazzling smile, a charming accent, and a sparkling personality. you'd be a fool not to soak up all the time you can get with him
but that just means whenever he does end up leaving for missions, that's when you really buckle down and start getting all your piled up work done
it can be frustrating and a bit of a bother, but knowing your schedule will be completely free (at least for a little bit) as soon as he gets back is more than enough to get you through the tedious work load you've allowed yourself to accumulate
only this time it's a bit harder to remember that
and it's all because of your newly assigned CO
he's a bit of an older man, which isn't a bad thing
at least until you find out that his mindset lines up with the ideology of a 1950's working husband
you know, the kind of guy who believes it's a man's job to go out and work a job to provide for his family while his wife stays home and takes care of the children, house, and meal prepping
in other words
a complete and utter bigot
so between trying to complete all the work you'd so foolishly neglected in your time hanging out with soap and trying to stop yourself from snapping your superior's neck every time he grabbed your rifle from your hands with a condescending, "careful! wouldn't a small thing like you hurting yourself with this," it's no wonder you couldn't remember that today was the day soap was returning from another one of his top secret missions
in fact, the thought doesn't occur to you at all until soap pulls up a chair beside your desk and makes himself comfortable while you're looking over some paperwork your darling CO had left you because he, "works too hard and needs a break."
more like a break in his skull, but to each their own
anyway i can definitely imagine soap carrying around a small notebook that you use to communicate with him when you can't be bothered to watch him try and fail to decipher your hand movements
and yes, he totally brings it on missions with him just so he can open it up and trace over your handwriting with a gentle touch and a soft smile and oh my god imagine confessing to him like that (i'm kinda dying to write an imagine based on that now (mute or non-mute reader, i'm down for either tbh) so lmk if you're interested!)
anyway
when the two of you break apart from your usual 'welcome back' hug, he'll slide the notebook over to you as a simple question falls from his lips, "since when do you do paperwork?"
and this just prompts you to let out a huff and roll your eyes before snatching up the notebook/pen combo and writing out all your frustrations on the pages
it's safe to say this man is absolutely floored when he reads through it all
frustrated and angry as he is, he doesn't outwardly express it
he simply grabs the heap of paperwork sitting on your desk and promptly tosses it into the nearest recycling bin before grabbing your hand and leading you off to something completely unproductive and time wasting
it's exactly what you need
the night will eventually end off with him walking you to your room and offering you a sweet hug with a small lil kiss to your head
it's adorable, really <3
what's not so adorable is the way he barges into price's office with the notebook in hand before tossing the pages where you'd detailed your CO's behavior onto his desk
price reads through them and best believe all this man can see is red
as someone who takes pride in becoming a role model for those who work under him, he can barely believe of the things he's reading
he's so ready to throw hands
but he can't sadly
so he settles for the next best thing
COMPLAINTS, COMPLAINTS, COMPLAINTS
with how ruthless price is in his mission to humiliate this man, it's really no surprise when you eventually find out he's been fired
the moment you and the rest of your unit get the news, you practically run all over base to find soap
and the moment you do, you've pretty much tackled him to the ground in a hug
and he simply wraps his arms around you, that same dopey grin price teases him for stretched onto his lips because he knows and he couldn't be happier
he's just happy you're happy <3
könig
so because of his affiliation with KorTac, i like to imagine that you're part of another PMC group that tends to help each other out on missions whether it be due to mission overlap, or just needing some extra support
but despite this, i imagine it would take quite some time before you and könig even meet simply due to the fact that you're almost never assigned to be sent out on the field
and if i'm being honest, i can definitely see not a single member of KorTac having even the slightest clue that you exist until you're randomly brought onto the field one day during a particularly tricky mission
long story short, könig and a few other of his team members got ambushed and they needed all the help they could get which is where you come in
granted they don't actually see you until you all meet back at base, safe and sound as can be
while könig and his team are surprised by the new face, they're even more surprised to learn that you've been part of the team for nearly eight whole months
when asked about why they've never seen you on the field before, the answer is simple; "she's been doing other missions," which you've come to learn essentially means, "she's still in training because we don't trust her to be on her own yet."
and while the other members of KorTac seem to just take that simple explanation at face value, könig can't help but notice the way your face falls and shoulders slump upon hearing it
and it's at this moment he realizes he hadn't seen you anywhere on the field at the time, so where the hell were you?
he decides he needs to be more attentive
so the next time KorTac calls on your group for some extra assistance, he's keeping a sharp eye out there in hopes that he'd see you
but he doesn't
even so, he still holds out hope for next time
and the next
and the next
and the next
okay this is ridiculous
where the hell were you?
he knows you're going on the missions with the rest of the team because you're always there when everyone gets back to base, still dressed in your tactical gear and wiping off the dirt that seemed to cling onto your uniform
so why did he never actually see you?
he's a tall guy so surely, he, out of anyone, should be able to pinpoint your location on the field with a few simple turns of his head, right?
well apparently not
you're practically a ghost (hehe see what i did there)
his frustration with not knowing where you're at on the field has him going mad
he so desperately wants to just come out and ask you directly, but he's convinced himself that you'll somehow take offense to such a question so he decides against it
so he decides to settle on the next best thing
which is pretty much just endlessly staring you down on the field before you eventually disappear off to god knows where
it's not the smartest idea he's ever had if the way you seem to squirm under his piercing gaze is anything to go by, but he just can't seem to help it
especially not when he comes to notice just how pretty you really are
the soft slope of your nose, the curve of your jaw, the way your cheeks puff out so cutely when you're finally able to get your hands on a much needed snack after a particularly long mission
you're stunning, how could he not stare?
yeah he's definitely got a little crush
but he'll never admit it
especially not with the amount of teasing horangi throws his way whenever you enter the room
anyways i think i'm getting ahead of myself here, let's get back on track lol
i imagine it all comes to a head on the battlefield
one moment könig is going at it with no more than three enemy soliders, but it seems within the blink of an eye those numbers have nearly tripled as he sees a sizeable group of enemy soldiers heading this way
he knows he's more than capable of holding his own in close combat, but with this many people? he can't help but feel a little uneasy as he sees the group grow closer and closer
that is, of course, until the unmistakable sound of a rifle fires through the air and the group of soldiers who were previously approaching him steadily begin to fall to the ground, a pool of crimson blood flowing from their heads
könig's eyes catch onto a bright red laser making small patterns on the ground in front of him so, curious, he looks up to find the source of the light coming from under a pile of rubble located on the roof of a building
upon making eye contact with the small area, the red laser pointer goes dead and you quickly poke your head out from your self appointed hiding spot and offer him a small 'ok' motion with your hand before concealing yourself back into your spot once more
he swears his heart soars at the sight
satisfied with himself and your stellar aim, his mind becomes preoccupied with the mission once more, a newly placed sense of vigor in his attacks
but when everyone is cozying up in the common area after the mission's been completed (with the exception of you bc you're taking a shower), könig decides he can't hold himself back from asking a certain question that's been on his mind for a long time
so he simply decides to go for it and ask, "why hasn't she been assigned to our missions before?"
your teammates all look at each other for a few moments before one of them pipes up, "didn't think she was ready."
another one decides to offer their input, "there are times we still don't think she is, but our captain told us to bring her in anyway."
könig and the rest of those present from KorTac's confusion must be apparent because one of the other members of your team decides to speak out, "she was still a bit rocky when she first came to us. we just wanted her to polish up on her skills before we sent her out on an official mission. it's more out of worry than anything."
the explanation calms the small bout of worry that had infested his mind when they first offered their reasoning for not including you on missions, but he can't help but feel a little pit grow in his stomach
so he decides to speak up once more, "well i think they're capable. perhaps it's time you trust them more."
one of your teammates brows raise, "you think so?"
he nods, "took out a whole group of soldiers that were coming at me, i'd probably be done for if it weren't for them."
he finds the look of shock on their faces amusing as they ask, "how?"
könig leans back, "they were hiding in some rubble on one of the buildings. took them out with a sniper."
he watches a look of realization come over their faces as one of them exclaims, "i thought they were running around the field, not hiding!"
horangi decides to pipe in, "you didn't know? she's always running around the rooftops. i see her all the time."
your teammates practically implode on themselves at his revelation before they start hounding him for questions, ones he graciously answers
könig watches with a small smile hidden under his hood before he can see a small movement of the corner of his eye
he turns his head and sees you peering over at him with a small smile and he watches as you sign out a quick, "thank you," with your hands
he sucks in a sharp breath before bringing up his hands and signing back a shaky, "you're welcome"
his hidden smile widens as he watches your eyes glisten with delight, "you know sign?"
he's quick to respond, "since i was little."
horangi is the one to give his arm a harsh nudge when könig all but freezes upon seeing what you sign to him next
"would you like to join me for dinner?"
#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare 2#cod mw2#cod#mw2#mw 2022#cod mw2 imagine#cod mw2 fanfic#task force 141#task force 141 x reader#ghost#ghost x reader#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#john mactavish#john mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#konig#konig x reader#könig#könig x reader#this was a journey to get out omg#hope y'all enjoy tho#:)
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PSA: Just a heads up that @longing-for-rain has been passing off AI art as art that they have made themselves. Which is a slight problem when you have a tip jar and no disclaimer.
This is just a general FYI do not harass them please.
Under the cut is just proof.
The first thing that ticked me off was the wildly differing art styles all posted under one artist, here's some examples:
The last one's hand is also a dead give away
The most obvious sign however is that this artist has had an impressive development of their skill over a short period of time.
Here is an example of what they were posting before
The second one was posted in May 2023
And then in just under four months they were posting art like this
Some of this stuff has gotten really popular. To be fair numbers like this are not a regular occurrence, but averaging over 100 notes is still a fair bit of people thinking they're seeing someones hard work.
This would be a different story if they put any sort of disclaimer anywhere on their blog . I only felt the need to make this PSA because they allow tips and I think you should be transparent with people when money gets involved.
Now because I know what site we're all on: please please please please don't be an asshole and harass this person. If you are upset, just refrain from engaging with their posts.
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hellooo can you make a kyungjun fic where it is a happy ending😭💢 thank you sm
Hiii! Okay okay okay sorry for the last one here’s a happy one🙏🏻
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Character: Kyung-Jun x fem!reader
Kdrama: night has come
!!: thoughts are in italics
🫶🏻: -
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y/n pov
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I walked thru to corridors making my way to my classmates. Jun-Hee hd told me to come down and meet others.
I arrived down seeing I was the last one there. “Now that everyone is here I think we have a solution how to survive.” Jun-Hee started and many heads were turn to his way.
“We know that if we vote someone dies, but if we don’t it should guarantee nobody dying.” What a stupid plan. We can’t be 100% it would work.
“What do you mean. We can’t be sure no one would vote! What is someone votes in secret!” A girl from our class said and I nodded along.
“We’ll gather the phones so nobody could vote.” “What if the holder changes their mind and votes!”
Some people against Jun-Hees plan and others with him. “Shut up! For once the class president has a good idea.” A voice stopped everyone.
Kyung-Jun walked with his minions following him. He walked in the middle with a yellow dumpster(?) “Be reasonable and listen when I’m being nice.” He told and glanced at everyone his glaze stopping at me.
“We’ll put our phones here so nobody can take then and put the bin in the middle.” He said and started to walk around getting the phones with his minions telling everyone the be quick.
I was the last one and he looked straight at my eyes. “Put your phone here princess.” So annoying.
I sighed and handed my phone.
-
The yellow bin was put on the middle with white clothing around it and nobody didn’t have permission to cross over it.
I could sense everyone being tense and just waiting the clock tick. It was 11.50pm and the ten minute wait would be like hell. I sighed and decided to sit on the ground tired from all the standing.
I eyed everyone, people were quiet no one talking. It was a bit too quiet for my liking, but I didn’t feel like saying anything when everyone was so tense.
11.55pm the five minute wait still there. It felt like eternal waiting for the clock strike 12. I played with my thumbs just waiving them around waiting for the time pass.
The five minutes had now passed even tho it felt like hours. Nobody moved. “We did it!” Someone yelled as the clock struck 12.01am. Now everyone was hugging each others and smiling.
I let out a breath of relief even tho I had a feeling this wasn’t over yet. When people were celebrating the fucking purge sound started again. I knew it.
“Players must identifyand vote out the Mafia!”
“Players must identifyand vote out the Mafia!”
“Players must identifyand vote out the Mafia!”
“Players must identifyand vote out the Mafia!”
People tried to go for their phones but were stopped by the class president telling them it may not mean they would die.
It was before a body fell. And another one.
“For breaking the rules Lee Soo Bia and Park Ji Hoon have been eliminated.”
“Lee Soo Bia and Park Ju Hoon were civilians.”
People were in shock just standing there nobody moving. I had fell into a complete shock, the bodies had fell just few meters from me.
I was still on the ground as I saw the red spilling towards me. Now the purge sound had gotten louder and the lights turned to red.
Everyone were rushing to find their phones to vote. I couldn’t do anything because of the shock. I just sat on the ground.
I knew I needed to find my phone so I used all the strength that I gad and pushed myself off of the ground and started to look for my phone with a wave of people looking for theirs.
The bin had fallen and all the phones were scattered around the ground as people were panicking. I couldn’t find my phone anywhere. I started to panic. More and more people started to get eliminated and some to vote.
I felt a hand tug me. “Haven’t you found phone yet!” Kyung-Jun stood in front of me. “No!” I yelled at him with a slight panic in my voice. “Fuck.” He muttered and started to look for something. I’m gonna die.
I saw as Kyung-Jun motion his minions over and said something to them and they all started to look for something. There!
I saw my phone in the floor but just as I tried to grab it someone accidentally kicked my hand and my phone in the same. “Fuck!” I cried out in pain and watched my phone slide. I held my hand in pain. It was a strong and hard kick.
Just as I got up to get my phone Kyung-Jun was standing in front of me with my phone nodding to Jun-Ha who was standing were my phone hand sled.
“Vote!” He told me and shoved my phone to my hands. I yelped as he shoved it to my hurting hand. “But for whom!” I said I didn’t have tome to think and I couldn’t think straight.
“Vote for me. Now!” Was all he said as he opened his phone too.
I gulped and voted.
“l/n y/n voted for Go Kyung-Jun”
“Go Kyung-Jun voted for l/n y/n”
I felt my heart pounding in my ears with all the ringing from the purge sound. My hand was hurting bad. I used my flashlight on my phone and saw my hand turning a bit purple. Fuck.
Many people had voted and the timer told us it was time.
“Baek Eun-Ha vill be eliminated with the most votes of 10.”
“Baek Eun-Ha was a civilian.”
“I told you it’s not me!” The girl screamed I turned my gaze to her. She cried on the floor looking straight ant So-Mi.
She cried and cried, yelling at people who voted for her telling them she was telling the truth.
I looked back at my hand and saw Kyung-Jun looking it too. “That’s bad.” He said and shook his head with anger. “Yeah.” Was all I could say. “Sorry.” I said and leaned my head against Kyung-Juns chest.
He didn’t say anything but slightly wrapped his one arm around my shoulders. This might’ve looked weird to others. Me leaning on him. But to us it was okay. I guess.
The ‘lullaby’ started ringing and I felt my body going limp and my eyes closing.
-
I woke up the next morning. My hand sore as I opened my eyes I saw Kyung-Jun in front of me with his eyes closed. He looked peaceful. His hand was supporting my head. what a lucky way we fell.
I sat up and poked him. People started to wake up with groans and some sobs. Kyung-Hun sat up and immediately stood up after to go to his minions.
I looked at my hand seeing it purple, it wasn’t broken. But a big bruise on it. It was sore and I couldn’t move it much, but it was good that it wasn’t broken.
- (sorry i’ll skip the morning😞)
I arrived at the cafe after Kyung-Jun had told me to meet him there. Jin-Ha neither Seung-Bin weren’t there. “Why did you wanna meet?” I asked just standing at the door. “Come closer I don’t bite.” He said and motioned a chair next to him.
I sat next to him. “Ah! I never got to say this. But thank you, you saved my life yesterday.” I said and looked at him. He didn’t say anything but pulled a med kit under the table and sat it on the table.
“Show me your hand.” He told me and I did. I showed my hand to him and he gently grabbed it. “You should be more careful.” He said and wrapped a bandage around my hand. He was surprisingly gently.
“Thank you again.” I told him as he was finished with the wrapping. “Don’t fall for me now.” He said and patted my head and left. I just might..
——
End😳
yes yes I know kinda copied the hyun-ho and na-hee scene but it was just so cute😞🙏🏻
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hello! may i say i absolutely love your writing??? so i thought i’d request something :) aaron is readers first actual relationship (like her first serious one?) and her family dynamics have been difficult while growing up (absent father, not a really close relationship with her mother, she always felt like more of a flatmate to her yk?), so she hasn’t experienced what it feels like to be truly loved and wanted and aaron has given her that, which makes their relationship even more special and important to her. he’s basically the only person she fully trusts and vice versa. when they get into their first big fight, she gets overwhelmed and is afraid he’s going leave her and thinks things like “i knew this was too good to be true” etc. of course, they make up and aaron comforts her and assures her he’ll never leave her.
if this is something you don’t want to write, that’s totally fine!!! 🫶🏼
Thank you, sweet nonny, for your kind words and the request 🥹 And sorry this took me so long to post!! I hope you don't mind I tweaked a bit to play more on reader's anxiety than the fight aspect- I hope this is what you were looking for 🖤
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x female reader (angsty angst + hurt/comfort)
—————
Stupid, you chastise yourself for the umpteenth time as the apartment door closes behind your partner. Evidently he’s taken all the air in the room with him because your lungs can’t seem to find any oxygen to breathe in. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl. What did you think was going to happen?
Rather than staring at the closed door in the vain hope that Aaron will walk back through it, you scrub your hands over your face and head down the hall to his bedroom. You stand on your tiptoes to reach your duffel bag in the closet that’s been sitting on a shelf since he first insisted you keep some things at his apartment. Maybe if you just give him space and then apologize, he won’t leave. After your dad walked out, that strategy had worked on most of your mother’s relationships, however short-lived they happened to be.
Your heart breaks at the thought of losing Aaron over something so seemingly trivial. Why hadn't you fought harder, spoken with more confidence in your voice? Why couldn’t you just let it go?
You had planned a quiet dinner at Aaron’s place to celebrate six months of absolute bliss together. All you had told him last week was there would be a surprise waiting for him at home, courtesy of the shiny new key on your ring you had yet to use. You spent the evening cooking the recipe that you had been buying ingredients for when you bumped into him at the grocery store, a smile on your face while the memory replayed in your head. As the clock neared seven, you left the food in the oven to stay warm and went about setting the table, complete with fresh flowers, candles, and Aaron’s favorite red wine. Music played softly in the background, a series of songs you put together that reminded you of your boyfriend that he was never allowed to find out about. You gave the sauce simmering on the stove another taste test, smacking your lips together before adding another pinch of oregano.
Then, you fired off a quick Can’t wait to see you soon! text to your boyfriend and settled down on the couch with your book to wait for his arrival from Quantico.
You waited… and waited, and checked your phone, and waited some more. As the minutes ticked by and the smile on your face faltered, you reasoned with a sigh that the BAU had probably gotten a case, and he was busy briefing the team before heading halfway across the country. You were no stranger to receiving a text or call from the jet, an apology for the untimely case and promise to make it up to you as soon as he was home.
But this radio silence felt different, and you released your bottom lip from its cage beneath your teeth with a quiet hiss when the familiar metallic taste of your anxiety getting the better of you touched your tongue. A thousand and one scenarios flew through your mind, possibilities of Aaron being hurt in the field or succumbing to another one of those fainting spells that his teammate and friend, Dave, had once warned you about.
Or maybe, just maybe, he had grown tired of you and was trying to figure out how to break things off.
Reaching the six month mark was a new milestone for you in a relationship. Most of your other relationships, if you could even call them that, didn’t make it past the third date. Aaron could probably profile you in his sleep, tell you that the absence of your father in your life and your strained relationship with your mother made it hard for you to recognize genuine connection. That you were a serial people pleaser, even at the expense of your own health and wellbeing, convinced that if you said and did all the right things, you would be worthy of people’s attention, time, and affection.
Hell, the person who cut in front of you in line for coffee could probably tell that about you by the way you insisted they go ahead first.
As the digital clock on the stove flickered to 10:00, your nerves over Aaron’s welfare outcompeted your guilt over bothering him at work. You unlocked your phone to find your earlier text to him delivered but unread, and pressed his contact picture to place the call. He picked up on the third ring, and you released a sigh of relief until he answered with an easy, “Hi, honey, how are you?”
Confusion muddled your features, but you kept your voice even as you answered, “Fine, my love. You got a new case?”
“Luckily no, and I’m so sorry I didn’t respond to your text earlier. I just got caught up trying to finish this report so I don’t have to work this weekend while we…” He trailed off with a quiet curse before coming back on the line. “Baby,” he breathed out, a heavy sigh laced with regret. “We were supposed to celebrate tonight, weren’t we?”
“It’s okay,” you offered immediately, not really answering his question as your gaze flicked up to the wax dripping down the half-eroded candles.
“No,” he responded firmly, and you could hear the distinct shuffling of papers in the background. “It’s not okay. It’s late, so there shouldn’t be traffic now. I’ll be home in twenty.”
You had spent those twenty minutes cleaning up the kitchen and convincing yourself that you weren’t really upset, just worried that he hadn’t eaten all day or taken proper care of himself. Then you changed out of your dress, opting instead for sweatpants and one of Aaron's old law school shirts to appear as casual as possible. By the time you heard his key in the lock, you were ready to meet him at the door with a smile.
“Hi, baby,” you purred in greeting, cupping Aaron's face in your hands and drawing him down for a sweet kiss. He practically melted into your touch, pressing his lips to yours between words of apology. “It’s okay, really,” you answered easily with a shrug. “We can just have what I made tomorrow!”
Aaron’s mouth turned downward at that, and you immediately criticized yourself for mentioning the meal at all. “Sweetheart-”
“Aar, baby, it was nothing,” you attempted to laugh it off, but his brows furrowed even deeper at your insistence.
“Why aren’t you upset? You should be upset.”
“Why?” you challenged in return, smoothing your hands along his arms even as your fear that he was trying to push you away reared its ugly head. “I know how difficult your job is. I don’t expect you to remember every little thing we talk about.”
“Y/N, no.” His voice was firm as he gripped your shoulders and dipped his head down to meet your gaze. “This wasn’t a little thing. Just… give me a minute and then we’ll talk.”
And now, here you are, hastily packing your bag and trying to make your escape before he returns to avoid having that dreaded conversation. The trite It's not you, it’s me and It’s for the best and You should be someone’s priority. Aaron had already sighed out the classic You deserve better before walking out the door.
You jump in surprise at the sound of Aaron’s voice rumbling over to you from the bedroom doorway. “Are we going somewhere?”
You look up at him and his heart breaks at the way your eyes are glistening in the dim light. “I thought I should spend a few days at my place. Give you some space to breathe.” And save you the hard part of saying we shouldn’t be together anymore.
His bags fall to the floor unceremoniously, and Aaron crosses the room in two short strides to cup your face in his hands, brows furrowed, eyes searching yours. “Why would I ever want to be apart from you when I don’t have to be?”
You gape at him in disbelief. “You don’t want me to leave?”
His answer is firm, resolute, a simple, “No.”
“And you’re not leaving me?”
“Absolutely not.” He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you down beside him, tucking you into his broad chest. “I’m sorry I wasn’t clear when I left. I just went to get my things from the car, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry for assuming the worst,” you whisper. Your voice is so small and fragile, and Aaron tightens his hold on you. “I just thought…”
“You’re used to people not sticking around?” You nod, his starched shirt brushing against your cheek with the movement.
Aaron pulls back a bit to tilt your chin up, his gaze soft yet determined as he looks into your eyes. “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. You understand?” You nod again, and he dots kisses all over your face until your mouth turns up in a genuine smile. “You-” He takes a deep breath and pulls your hand into his lap, running his thumb over your knuckles before continuing, “You have made my life- and Jack’s- infinitely better, and I can’t picture our family without you now.”
You lift your joined hands to your mouth to press a kiss to the back of his hand. Then, hesitantly, you ask, “Aaron?”
“Hm?”
“Why did you get upset about me not getting upset?”
“Because you deserve the world, angel,” he answers firmly. “And you deserve better than the bullshit I pulled tonight. And…” He trails off, and you can feel the tension mounting in the rise of his shoulders. Placing your hand on his taut muscles, you rub it back and forth in a soothing pattern until he releases a breath and admits, “It reminded me of my marriage, when things started falling apart before the divorce. Haley had gotten so used to my absence or making work a priority that she would just excuse things. First it was little things, like not answering a text for hours.”
“Huh, you don’t say,” you interject, and Aaron’s gaze cuts over to you to find a cheeky smile on your face.
He nudges your shoulder with his own, muttering an apology before continuing, “Then it was bigger things. Holidays and trips and back to school nights. I even- I missed Jack’s first steps, y’know that? I was on a case, halfway across the country, and I didn’t see the video she sent me until days later.”
“Aaron,” you sigh, now tucking him into your chest. “Do you know what Jack’s going to remember? That you were always there when it counted. He’s going to remember the night you went out in the rain to find his special Darth Vader suit for Halloween, and the countless hours you and Dave put in to coach his soccer team to the championship, and the blanket forts and movie nights and walks in the park with ice cream dripping down our wrists until it’s an unsalvageable mess. You’re his hero, you big dummy.”
Aaron shifts until his head is in your lap, looking up at you with a small smile and glistening eyes. “How did we get here?”
“You gave me a key to your apartment and then missed our anniversary dinner.”
“Thank you, you sassy little thing.” He playfully tugs at your hair falling down from your shoulders and framing his face. “I mean, I was supposed to be apologizing and groveling at your feet for my transgressions, but here you are comforting me instead. You really do-”
“If you say deserve better, I’m going to beat you up, Aaron,” you threaten, although the smile on your face says otherwise.
He mimes zipping his lips, then twists his wrist around to glance at his watch. “It’s still our six month anniversary for another hour or so, and the apartment smells divine. You up for a late night meal?”
Leaning down, you nuzzle your nose against his before answering, “Deal. But I’m sitting pretty at the table and you’re serving me, Hotchner.”
“In just an apron and nothing else underneath?”
“Oh, hell yes,” you squeal in delight. “You’re in trouble now, baby. I’m going to milk this for all it’s worth.”
“As you should, my love. As you should.”
__________
AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner @iyv-ray24 @mrs-ssa-hotch @criminalskies
#this is unfortunately how my brain works#ow my feelings#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotchner x female reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#hotch x female reader#hotch x you#hotch x reader#hotch x y/n#hotch fanfiction#aaron hotch x you#hotch imagine#hotch#ssa aaron hotchner#criminal minds fic#criminal minds imagine#reader request#angst and hurt/comfort#hurt/comfort#angst with comfort
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Imperfectly Lovable | Yoon Jeonghan (m)
✦pairing: e2l,mutal friend!Yoon Jeonghan x fem!reader
✦genre: angst, smut (minors pls DNI)
✦wc: ~5.7k
warnings and smut beneath the cut
✦warnings: smut (once again, last warning, minors DNI), no specified pronouns, but reader has female anatomy, is the maid of honor, and wears a dress. Our man scoups is getting married, Enemies? to lovers, reader is a bit emotional and drained, soft dom Jeonghan, teasing, mentions of alcohol, fingering, unprotected sex (as always pls wear protection), deep/passionate sex, creampie – please let me know if I miss anything, my brain hurts.
✦an: this was an impulsive fic that I finished between writing two other fics, and wanted to post per a message I received since I thought some of you may enjoy it. I hope you all like it! Please note that this was lightly skimmed as means of proofreading, so there may be some changes when I get the chance to read through again with a clear mind lol
It felt like hours had passed since you first arrived at this bar, tired beyond belief after spending the whole day running around to help prepare for your best friend’s wedding tomorrow, and tonight’s rehearsal dinner was proving to be more work than one may imagine. You were miserable at this point; eyes heavy with a glass of overpriced vodka grasped a little too tightly in one hand whilst the other was threaded into your once put together, but now disarrayed curls. To be honest, you were counting down the minutes until the shuttle would take you back to your hotel, ready to kick your heels off and fall into bed.
The last thing you needed right now was for Jeonghan to appear, his mischievous chuckle informing you of his presence as he took the seat next to you at the bar, plucking the cherry garnish from your drink and popping it into his mouth. All you could muster up was a glare, tired eyes peering at him, opposite of his toothy grin and twinkling eyes.
He opened his mouth to say something, but you held up a hand, motioning for him not to speak, “please, Jeonghan, I have no tolerance to listen to whatever nonsense you have to say right now.”
Jeonghan had been on your nerve all day, albeit he was helpful throughout all the wedding preparations, but he was a constant annoyance during each task you’d ask him to complete.
Much to your dismay, you two ran in the same circle, both of you being friends of the bride and groom. Leah, the bride, had been your partner in crime all throughout college, and Seungcheol, the groom, was basically Jeonghan’s brother. Your friend groups had merged early on when Leah and Seungcheol started dating, the two groups joining organically due to being similar in nature.
Jeonghan was chosen as the best man, and you were chosen as the maid of honor. However, the downfall was that you two never had gotten along. Jeonghan had teased you incessantly all throughout college, never letting you rest whenever he’d spot you on campus and sabotaging all flings that you’d pursue on nights out. You couldn’t stand him, but you did your best to ignore him, typically brushing him off. To be honest, Jeonghan couldn’t stand you either and he couldn’t exactly pinpoint why. Maybe it was because you were a little too perfect in his eyes, annoyed by your façade that you had everything under control, and he had an unspoken goal to find out what made you tick. Those years were filled with constant bickering, endlessly pushing each other’s buttons until your friends would split you two up.
Jeonghan was really a kind, genuine person, so he wasn’t sure what it was about you that made him act out like this. The only instance he’d ever been relatively pleasant to you was when your situationship had abandoned you at the club, finding him in the corner with his tongue down another girl’s throat, and that led you to drinking a little too much for your own good. You ended up calling Jeonghan; bawling your eyes out from the curb outside the club and begging for him to come pick you up. Leah wasn’t answering your calls, and Jeonghan was one of the only people you knew who had a car on campus. He obliged, quickly driving over, and saving you from your despair. He didn’t utter a word the whole drive to your apartment, only occasionally humming out in agreement as you spewed out insults about the guy who broke your heart. He only spoke up when you had made a derogatory comment about yourself, telling you to never say out such a thing again and firmly stating that you deserved better. It was enough to shut you up until he dropped you off your place, jaw screwed shut and cheeks raw from the tears, heart pounding in shock that Jeonghan would say such polite things to you.
However, that proved to be a rare occurrence, and Jeonghan proceeded to continue with his shenanigans, pushing all your buttons up until graduation. Unfortunately, even after college, you two still frequently saw each other, but you remained civil. Typically, you tried to keep your distance, but this whole wedding has been making it all too difficult, which is why you’re stuck in this uppity bar next to the one and only menace in your life.
Jeonghan ignores you, grabbing the half drank glass from your hand and knocking the rest of it back himself, “don’t jump the gun, Y/N. I was going to ask, before you so rudely interrupted, if you wanted to head back to the hotel. I’m ordering an uber and thought you looked tired.”
You scoff, hating that he pointed out the obvious, “I am tired, Jeonghan. What’s the catch?”
“There is no catch, just a little tired myself to be honest.” You peered around, hoping to spot the special couple, but they were long gone themselves. Leah had bid you goodbye a while ago, avoiding having a hangover on her wedding day, and heading back to perform some selfcare. There wasn’t much keeping you at this bar anymore, and if Jeonghan was offering to pay for an uber, then you were going to tag along.
With a huff you stubbornly grab your purse and hop off the barstool, “I’m only going because you’re paying, and my bed is calling my name. Let’s head out.” Jeonghan can’t hide his smirk, teeth working at his bottom lip as he watches you walk away, hips swaying with each step. You only look back to give Jeonghan a questioning look, wondering what is taking him so long to call an uber. You were infuriating to him, but you were also vexingly attractive.
The ride back to the hotel was silent, the low hum of the car relaxing you as music played quietly in the background. It was enough to make you doze off, your head slowly drooping towards Jeonghan and eventually landing on his shoulder. He tensed at the contact, the soft strands of your hair tickling his neck as you subconsciously nuzzled into him, the sensual aroma of your perfume filling the air around him.
He hated moments like this, moments where he questioned what went wrong with your friendship. What made you two dislike each other so much, and why did you both drive each other mad? There were moments that he realized you weren’t so perfect, noticing today when you broke your calm demeaner upon finding out that the flower delivery would be delayed by an hour. For the first time ever, he feared you, listening rather than fighting back when you ordered him to drive to the flower shop himself and pick up the bouquets and arrangements. He suppressed all emotions of endearment he felt, not liking the way his heart warmed at how much you seemed to care about this wedding when it wasn’t even your own.
The halting of the car is what woke you, your head snapping up from his shoulder to compose yourself before slipping out of the uber, muttering a polite thank you to the driver. Jeonghan hesitantly followed you, joining you in the elevator as you sleepily leaned against the wall. You were both on the same floor due to the bridal party having rooms within the same wing of the hotel, and part of him was relieved that he could make sure you made it back to your room safely.
Before swiping your key to enter your own room, you turned to face Jeonghan, clearing your throat to gain his attention before his disappeared into the safety of his own. “Can we establish a truce, specifically for tomorrow? Let’s please just be actually civil for one day?”
Jeonghan doesn’t have it in him to tease you, reluctantly nodding and holding his hand out to shake your smaller one. You seem pleased by his quick agreement, your face washing over with relief before slipping into your room.
The wedding was ceremony was beautiful, and, thankfully, everything had gone smoothly. Really, Jeonghan could have sworn and argued that it went smoothly because of you. You didn’t let Leah or Seungcheol stress out once, ensuring that everything was taken care of and constantly soothing the bride. You remained composed the whole morning, making sure everything was in place and in tip-top shape. However, Jeonghan knew the effect it had on you when he looped his arm around yours before entering the ceremony, you were shaking like a leaf, nervousness and anxiety wracking your body throughout the entire event.
You would hold it together all day; all throughout the pictures and in between the ceremony and reception. Even giving a stellar maid of honor toast to further celebrate the bride and groom. Jeonghan refrained from any teasing, making sure to help you with any of your duties as much as he could, hoping to take some of the anxiety away.
Even after all these years of pushing you to the edge, Jeonghan realized he hated seeing you in this state. You weren’t perfect, your façade was just a protective shell to prevent concerning those around you, never wanting to burden or disappoint others. You cared all too much for the people in your life, he could see it in your eyes as you watched Leah and Seungcheol have their first dance, eyes watery with admiration and a sadness that he couldn’t pinpoint.
Rather than watching the bride and groom, Jeonghan found himself watching you underneath the hazy glow of the chandelier, soft skin illuminating in the warm light, and something in him turned fuzzy. He no longer wanted to fight back and forth with you, he wanted to take back all the years of bantering and start over. Jeonghan couldn’t stop himself from rising from his seat the second a stray tear rolled down your cheek, sitting in the vacant bridesmaid chair next to you as people gathered around the dance floor to watch the first dance.
You gave Jeonghan a weary smile, hurriedly brushing away your tears as he gazed at you differently than he ever had before. You felt your cheeks heat up at his expression, his handsome features making you feel a bit flustered as his tender eyes glanced at you, handing you the handkerchief from his front pocket.
You whispered a quiet thank you under your breath, using his handkerchief to collect the tears welling in the corner of your eyes. Jeonghan softly smiled in return, a comforting hand grabbing yours as you both turned your attention back to the bride and groom. Your heart raced at the way his hand felt in yours, the blood in your fingers feeling staticky at the way his thumb gently rubbed up and down your palm. The feeling was foreign to you, and you weren’t sure if you were feeling this way because it was out of character for Jeonghan, or if something had changed.
You weren’t even paying attention to the wedding anymore, the first dance music sounding distant in your head as you tried not to look at Jeonghan, your heart rate and breathing increasing each second his hand held yours. You hadn’t even noticed that you finished your champagne flute, Jeonghan letting out a quiet chuckle when you tried sipping from your empty drink.
Eventually, the first dances had come to an end, and much to your surprise Jeonghan stood up with your hand still in his, asking “would you like to dance with me, Y/N? I think it’s our duty as the maid of honor and best man to do so.”
You weren’t sure you could manage such a request with how fragile your heart felt, but you agreed due to the truce from the other night. Everything felt like a game with Jeonghan, but his intentions seemed innocent today. “How could I deny such a rare proposition?”
Something sour seemed to take over Jeonghan’s face at your comment, but it disappeared as quickly as it came, guiding you out to join him for a slow dance with the rest of the wedding attendees.
As much as you hated to admit it, the way your body molded against Jeonghan’s so perfectly scared you. It was too natural how he pulled you close to him, head resting against his firm chest as one hand remained grasped yours and the other fell to your lower back, holding you against him. Jeonghan prayed you couldn’t hear the pounding of his heart, breathing slowly in hopes that you couldn’t tell how this scared him as well. Jeonghan was questioning everything he knew about you, cursing himself for being so unbearable to you all these years. No wonder you put up with him for so long, you only cared about pleasing those around you, and if it meant hanging out and putting up with him, then so be it. Jeonghan regretted running you thin for so long, but he was unsure how to ever make it up to you.
Jeonghan watched as your eyes fluttered shut, pretty lashes sitting atop your blushed cheeks, swaying you gently to the beat as he really took in your appearance for the first time. He determined that he preferred the way you looked when you looked safe and content in his arms, rather than the way you’d roll your eyes at him and turn away. Jeonghan didn’t want this moment to end, but for now, this was more than he could have ever wished for.
Jeonghan helped you to another glass of champagne once the slow dance ended, the music becoming more upbeat as the night became chaotic, drunken friends and family taking over the dance floor. You two eventually end up joining all your friends at the center of the dance floor, laughing joyously as random dance moves were created and copied within the group.
Eventually, you find yourself pulling away from the crowd, feeling a bit run down and tipsy, and needing some fresh air. It was becoming late at night and soon the venue would be ushering you all out. You found yourself sitting on the stairway outside of the reception area, setting your champagne flute next to you as you looked up to the starry sky.
You felt emotional all the sudden, heavy tears that you held back earlier betraying you and falling down your cheekbones every time you blinked. You’ve never felt so lonely in your entire life, wishing to have a companion like how Leah had Seungcheol, but everyone you’ve ever imagined yourself with has failed you. Were you unlovable? Were you hard to reach? You cared too much about others, but were you bad at showing it?
As if on cue, Jeonghan joins you for the second time that you found yourself crying for the night. Plopping next to you on the stairs, he leans back to evaluate your state. Part of you feels relieved to have him next to you again.
His jaw is slacked open, unsure of what to say this time, tipsier than he was before. Panicking, he utters out the first thing that came to mind, “stop crying, you are kind of ugly when you cry, you know that?” Jeonghan immediately regrets it, he wasn’t even sure why he said such thing, it wasn’t even the truth, you still looked beautiful as ever. He regrets it even more when you snap your head towards him, looking more hurt than he’s ever seen you.
“Fuck,” you choke out, a look of disbelief taking over your features. The space between your eyebrows wrinkled in bewilderment and incredulity, evaluating if he was messing with you or not. “Should have known you’d always be dick no matter what, Jeonghan. It’s like I can’t catch a break.”
You’re quickly standing up from your spot, mad at yourself for ever allowing yourself to feel that comfortable around Jeonghan. Even if he had been agreeable today, you should have known to never let your guard down around him. However, he’s grabbing your wrist before you can rush away.
“Shit, I’m sorry, Y/N,” his other hand is running through his dark hair, voice sounding shaky as he tries to come up with an apology. “I’m not sure why I even said that…it’s not even true.”
You’re trying to break from his grasp, arm desperately shaking him off as his grip tightens around your wrist. You give up, pathetically staring back at him with disdain, “Then why would you even say such a thing? Is it your soul purpose in life to mess with me?”
He loosens his grip, feeling like he’s really fucked up this time. You seem to soften too, noticing how a glint of regret flickers in his brown orbs. “No, not at all,” he’s stuttering out, tripping over his own words as he tries to make amends, “I wish I could start over, fuck, I only ever teased you because you were always too perfect, too untouchable. However, I’m realizing that isn’t the case.”
You become irritated again, wanting to stop listening to whatever he has to say before he can hurt you anymore, but he doesn’t let you leave. “Listen to me, Y/N, I’m not messing with you. My mind has been what’s been messing with me, I regret ever teasing you the way I did, no wonder you’re skeptical of me.” Tears are brimming your eyes again, your lip is quivering as you refrain from saying anything else to Jeonghan. He continues, taking your silence as a cue to keep going, “I don’t want to be that way anymore; I can see how much you care for those around you, how you carry so much burden for others, how you graciously go on even when you’re crumbling. Fuck, all I have to say, is I’m sorry for ever being a burden. And dammit, you’re fucking beautiful, Y/N, and I’m lucky to even have had you in my life all these years.”
It could be the passion of the moment, but you’re wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling your body into his like he had earlier in the night. Your lips crash against his, and Jeonghan wastes no time falling into your rhythm. It’s heavy and messy, noses and teeth clashing as you desperately kiss him. Only do you break the kiss to breathe out, “I hate you, Jeonghan, but fuck I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”
Jeonghan almost whines, hands wrapping around your lower back to hold you closer than humanly possible, “what can I do to fix this? Fix us? How can I make things up to you?”
“Just keep kissing me,” you groan out and he’s biting at your lower lip, “this is so wrong, but, fuck, we can work it out later.” His lips reattach to yours, hands trailing up your sides to cup your face as his tongue slips into your mouth. He tastes like champagne, the flavor all too familiar and memorable just like him.
You feel the impending heat of your arousal in the pit of your stomach, only making you feel hotter when you feel the hardness of Jeonghan’s growing erection pressing into you. You’re hyper aware that you’re outside, fully exposed to the reception taking place inside, but no one seems to take notice of your two bodies pressed against each other in a frenzy. Nor would any ever suspect it would be you two.
“God, Jeonghan,” you moan lowly when his lips trail down your jaw to your exposed collarbone, “I know what you can do to make it up to me.”
Your hands are gripping his suit jacket as he’s humming into your collarbone, nipping gently at the skin, “what can I do?”
“I just need you to fuck me,” you whisper out, gasping as he sucks harshly at the same spot, only doing so crueler upon hearing your request. “Let us work out all these years of frustration, show me how you truly feel about me.”
He’s massaging your hipbones, holding you tightly as he lets out a subdued growl into your neck, “I love the sound of that, but where do we even go, sweetheart?” He’s peering into the reception hall, evaluating a quick route that avoids all your friends, hot breath splaying over your skin as you pathetically hold onto him.
Your brain is running a mile a minute, unable to think straight with the way Jeonghan kisses all over your decolletage so affectionately. “There’s a dressing room upstairs, we can go there,” you’re breathing out, attempting to push Jeonghan off you before you make any other rash decisions, “no one will even see us walk by.”
The wedding party is in the thick of their celebration currently, with most of the crowd on the dance floor or tied up at the bar. Jeonghan agrees, pulling you in front of him to hide his oh-so-obvious erection and leading you inside. You guide him towards the stairway outside of the main reception hall, leading him upstairs towards the spare dressing room. This was used earlier to touch up on all the bridal party’s makeup and drop your bags off, but you assumed it hasn’t been used since.
Thankfully, there was a lock on the door, which Jeonghan was sure to turn upon closing the door behind himself. Jeonghan didn’t hesitate once the door was locked, long fingers wrapping behind your neck and roughly pulling you in for a deep kiss. You were addicting now that he had a taste of you, your plush lips tasting like the sweetest candy.
Jeonghan’s hands reached behind you, deft fingers working at the corset that held your dress up and pulling the bodice loose. Your fingers were quick to unbutton his top and undo his tie, pulling the fancy clothing articles off his upper half. Your hands felt fiery against his skin, nails running up and down his chest as he carefully dragged your dress down your curves.
Both of you gasped at the contact of bare skin, breasts pressed firmly against his chest as he continued kissing you. His hands wandering down to your bare ass, palming firmly at the plush muscle, and coaxing a moan from you at how rough his hands felt on your skin. Your tongues battle for dominance as he continues to grope you, gently snapping your elastic thong against your hips before sliding it down your legs.
His fingers found their way between your legs, hastily touching you exactly where you needed him the most. However, Jeonghan determined he was going to take his time with you in order to show you how he truly felt. He slowed down, running his fingers between your folds and collecting your slick between them.
He groaned lowly, “sweetheart, are you really this wet for me?”
You’re nodding against his shoulder, using his body to hold you up as he teasingly pushes two fingers into your entrance, palm rubbing against your clit at he does so. There’s a lounge chair in the corner of the room, and Jeonghan guides you over to it, sitting you down on the lush velvet surface. He kneels beneath your legs, almost drooling at the sight of you being so open for him, breasts on display and a misty look in your eyes. Your curls are a bit messy from being tousled and your skin is a bit more flushed than usual. Just when he thought you couldn’t be more beautiful, you prove him wrong.
He takes his time, fingers slipping into your wet heat slowly, slightly curling as you gasp out in pleasure. He’s kissing your inner thigh as he does so, innocent eyes glancing up at you as he works his fingers in and out of you. You’re panting, feeling overwhelmed at the way he looks at you and how good he feels just from touching you. Jeonghan can see how your chest rises and falls with each breath you take, lungs sputtering as he picks up his pace.
Experimentally, his fingers scissor inside of you, making your hips buck from the immense pleasure as he strikes a new chord inside of you. His jaw is slack as he learns more about your body, groaning into your skin when a hand of yours wraps itself in his hair, tugging on his wavy locks and pulling him closer as if to encourage him to use his tongue.
He understands your indication, kissing up your inner thigh until he gently sucks at your clit. The moan you let out is like music to his ears when he adds his tongue to the mix, continuing to curl his fingers in and out of you.
Your moans are high pitched, but not too loud, only enough for him to hear. This pleases him, only wanting to hear such desirable noises himself, and thankful you’d grant him permission to hear such a thing.
You’re grinding into his face now, needily chasing your high as his tongue fucks into you, nose messily pressing into your clit. He’s a starved man, and your pussy might just be his saving grace. Jeonghan is only encouraged more when you fall back onto the lounge chair, back arching in indulgence as one leg hooks over his shoulder.
“Jeonghan,” you’re a moaning mess up until he works your first orgasm from you, gasping as your body shakes in pure bliss. “You-your tongue… f-feels so good.”
Jeonghan is smirking, continuing to lick into you as you come down from your high, hips bucking in overstimulation as he presses his tongue flat against your clit. Once he feels like he’s worked you completely through your orgasm, he stands up to quickly pull his pants and underwear off, throwing the garments to the opposite side of the room.
“Now, sweetheart,” Jeonghan coos, kneeling between your legs that willingly stay open for him and welcome him in, “let me really make it up to you.”
Jeonghan takes note of your lust-ridden eyes, basking in how you look him up and down, eyes widening when they land on his cock. He’s so hard, he can’t even wait to run the length between your folds, hesitating briefly to check in with you.
“I don’t have a condom, but I’m clean,” he cursorily explains, panicking upon realizing this moment could come abruptly to an end.
You’re so tired at this point, desperate to feel Jeonghan inside of you, that you don’t even care. Plus, you’re on the pill, and you’re quick to mention that to him. “Don’t care, ‘m clean too, and on birth control.”
He loves how you’re like putty in his hands, immediately moving closer to you upon being granted permission, holding himself over you with his elbow as he runs his head between your folds. You’re arching into him again, his supporting arm sliding underneath your lower back to keep you pressed against him as he prods his length into you. He wants to take it slow, but when you let out a whiney moan, he can’t help but push his cock deeper into you.
The sound you let out is so low, so wanton that he hisses into your neck, biting your shoulder to practice some self-restraint as your walls suck him in. He’s so big, his length gradually filling you up until you’re stuffed to the brim.
You two stay like this for a second, wide eyes staring into each other’s as he gently brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The moment is so tender, that you truly can’t believe you two have spent most of your relationship bickering.
Jeonghan swears he could stay pressed against you like this forever, but the second your walls clench around him, he can’t help but shallowly thrust into you. There are those sounds again, the melodious cries of yours that have his head spinning. He swears he could fuck you all day if it meant he could hear listen to you like this. Jeonghan also swears your body was made for his, your pert nipples pressing into his skin, stomach pressing into his, and collarbones on display for his enjoyment.
“God, sweetheart,” he’s groaning out, cock thrusting into you at a quicker pace now, making sure to fill you up to the max each time. “I meant it when I said you’re beautiful.”
The tip of his cock hits your g-spot every time, slowly and deliberatively, and you’re a babbling mess as you cry out a thank you in response. You’re not even sure what you’re thanking him for, whether it was for the compliment, how good he was treating you, or how amazing he was making you feel. It was likely a thank you for all the above.
You’ve never had someone make you feel so good from fucking you this slowly, his touch set your body ablaze, everything feeling intentional and all too real. His pelvis added extra stimulation, the friction from each rock of his hips rubbing against your clit and making you wail out in pleasure.
However, you were growing needier, even though you appreciated Jeonghan taking his time with you. You needed him closer to you, deeper in you, you needed more, more, more. You push him away much to his confusion, only to flip over and realign your entrance to his cock.
Jeonghan understood exactly what you wanted, filling you back up until his hips were pressed flush against your ass. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pulls you up to press your back flat against his chest, large hands squeezing both your breasts as he bucks his hips up into you. His fingers work meticulously at your nipples, pinching and rolling the sensitive buds as your head lolls back onto his shoulder. You’re helping him by slightly bouncing on his cock, his low groans against your neck encouraging you to keep going.
“So deep, Jeonghan,” you’re crying out, hand reaching behind you to tangle itself in his hair. His lips found purchase on your neck again, sure to leave light bruises this time as he spears you with his cock, hands massaging your boobs harsher as he continues to thrust into you.
“So gorgeous,” he’s groaning into your skin, “you deserve so much love, Y/N. Such a beautiful person. Please let me treat you right.”
You could cry again, you’re sure of it, your vision is blurry from the tears as he sloppily thrusts into you. The feeling is so intense, the arousal pooling in your stomach as he repeatedly hits the soft, spongey spot deep inside of you. You’re moldable against his body, the sound of his hips slamming into yours being the only reminder that you are two bodies and not one.
You’re whimpering out, letting Jeonghan know you’re close to your high. You’re begging for him to cum with you, cunt clenching around his length like a vice as the feeling of your approaching orgasm tenses your muscles like no other. You’re keening for your release, hips desperately grinding back into him.
Jeonghan is here to gratify you, wanting to make up all these years of ceaseless teasing to you somehow. “Tell me where you want me to cum, sweetheart,” he’s barely audible, his usually smooth voice sounding crackly as he refrains from cumming prematurely.
“Inside me,” you’re weeping, tears rolling down your cheeks for the nth time this week, but this time from immense pleasure as your pussy begins to spasm around him. “Please, Jeonghan, I can’t hold it anymore.”
That’s all he needs, grunting as he releases his cum inside of you, the feeling of your walls tightening around him becoming overwhelming as your hands grasp desperately at his arms wrapped around you. You’re holding onto him for dear life as you shake in his hold, the throbbing of your cunt making his hips stutter inside of you.
The satisfaction you both feel is overpowering, the two of you not daring to let each other go as both your breathing begins to slow. Goosebumps pebble your skin as Jeonghan’s thumb rubs gently over your stomach, hot kisses pressed against your back and down your spine as he slowly pulls you off him. He shivers at the feeling, missing the warmth of your heat as he begins to get redressed.
You look striking, laid out on the lounge as if you were basking in the sun. You were glowing, tear-stained cheeks and pouty lips being the only indication of the messy rendezvous that just took place. He takes his time cleaning you up, slipping your dress back on you, and lacing your corset back up.
Jeonghan is sure to keep your lacy panties though, slipping the flimsy garment in his front pocket, earning a giggle from you as you press into his body. You both are hesitant to rejoin the wedding downstairs, knowing how suspicious it may be if you are lovey-dovey, also considering how things will change after what just took place.
“Jeonghan,” you whisper out, your raw undereye from all the tears making Jeonghan feel sick to his stomach. He nods gently, hand brushing through your hair to urge you to continue to speak. “You’ve made it up to me a little, but please tell me you’ll continue. That’s how you’ll really make things up to me.”
Jeonghan pulls you in dearer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “Oh, Y/N, the past few days have shown me that’s all I want. Let me make it up to you for months and years to come.”
Jeonghan is sure to do so, the teasing bone never really leaving his body, but he treats you like the most important person in his life and makes you feel like you’re lovable, caring for you as much as you do for others. Jeonghan regrets taking so long to learn about your imperfections, but he swears he’ll cherish you for double the amount of time. Infinite if time allows him to.
#svthub#seventeen smut#svt smut#yoon jeonghan smut#jeonghan smut#jeonghan e2l#enemies to lovers smut#seventeen fic#seventeen imagine#seventeen scenario
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hi babe hope this isn’t too personal but not having the greatest time right now. therapist did not answer any of my calls today so im kinda a mess 🥲🥲 if you’re willing to write any kind of comfort fic with any character that would be the best 💗💗💗
hi anon! i hope things are going better now! take this eddie munson comfort fic as my attempts to make you feel a wee bit better ily mwah <3
You were pretty good at taking care of yourself most of the time. Eddie always thought your innate sense of responsibility was extremely hot — mostly because it meant that you were even better at taking care of him.
He said it was a perk of being your boyfriend — “one of many,” he’d say, just before smacking a kiss to your cheek.
You were the yin to his yang in that way. Peace in all his chaos.
Eddie, himself, was a being who thrived on mayhem. There wasn’t a single thing he loved more than unpredictability — well, you, of course. Then maybe DnD. But spontaneity was a close third.
He isn’t quite sure how to live his life without the company of total disarray. He isn’t sure he would want to if he had the chance either. The unexpected makes things fun. At least, that’s what he always tells you. You’re not so sure.
When he makes you late to things because of his horrible time management skills, or he can’t find his keys because they’re hidden somewhere underneath a pile of clothes in the corner of his room, it feels a little like the end of the world.
And not just in the oh no, this thing is really stressing me out; good thing I know it’s illogical sort of way. But in the oh fuck, we’re gonna be ten minutes late to this get-together where there are zero consequences whether we show up or not, but it’s inducing so much panic that I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to function properly.
You’ve gotten pretty good at hiding your fear over the years. It’s just that Eddie’s so damn attuned to everything going on in your head that it makes it insanely difficult to wallow in your dread alone.
He knows when you start pacing and talking a million miles a minute that something’s working you up. He knows when you start getting snappy and don’t think his jokes are funny anymore that you’re close to your breaking point. He knows when you stop talking altogether that your entire world is caving in around you.
So Eddie takes great care in getting to things on time and tidying up his room when you're around. He doesn’t even care that he finds it all a bit irrational, he just wants to make things easier for you. Even if it means getting to Steve’s house an hour before everyone else or actually folding his clothes before putting them in drawers.
Eddie knows you use structure like a weapon rather than a shield. Organization isn't a way to keep your life together, it’s to keep it from falling apart. When something is out of order, when there’s one piece out of place, it’s not an easy fix — not for you. It’s more like a ticking tomb.
You’re the ticking time bomb. And the faintest scent of disorder is bound to make you explode.
But maybe calling it a bomb isn’t the most accurate way to describe it. The way Eddie sees it, it’s a lot more like an avalanche.
It starts off small, a little rumble of uncertainty that jostles the comfort of your routine. You blink and suddenly the snowball weighs two tons and you’ve spiraled into a full-blown crisis that threatens to swallow you whole.
You don’t let anyone see any of it. Not even Eddie a lot of the time. You just bury yourself in the landslide until the heavy snow melts and you can function normally again — it may last a couple hours, maybe weeks.
So it’s a good thing Eddie can see all the warning signs before they start.
It’s all the little shit he notices first — the not showering as often, the not keeping things as tidy as usual, the closing yourself off. Eddie Munson knows a depression room when he sees one. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know you’re slipping.
But rather than acknowledge that boogeyman, he pretends like it isn’t there at all. He thinks if he acts like it doesn’t scare him, then it doesn’t have the power to hurt him. That’s exactly how he treats the funks you get into. He knows they’re there but doesn’t let them take over completely.
Eddie comes around whenever he gets the chance and helps you do your self-care routine — even though all you do is complain that you don’t need his help the entire time.
He coaxes you into the bath and tidies up your bedroom while you’re gone. He does all the steps of your skincare for you after because he knows you can’t do it yourself. You’re too tired to, but you feel like shit when you don’t. That’s the same bitter cycle that started this whole mess.
He doesn’t do anything crazy. He just takes care of the little things to make you feel less consumed by it all.
You’re a pouting mess in the middle of your bed after, freshly cleaned and drowning in a too big shirt that smells like the musk of Eddie’s cologne with a towel twisted up in your hair. It’s almost cartoonish, the way you cross your arms over your chest and scrunch your face in displeasure.
“I don’t want you to do all this stuff for me, Eds,” you gripe. “I’m a big girl, okay? I can do it myself.”
The boy shrugs from where he stands at the foot of your bed. “I know I don’t have to. I want to, though. I like doing this stuff for you.”
“You hate cleaning, Eddie.”
“Yeah. I do,” he affirms with a nod, all but flopping onto the mattress beside you. He rests his head on his fist and blinks up at you with wide, twinkling button eyes. A grin pulls at his pink lips as he asks you, “But you know what I don’t hate?”
You huff but entertain him anyway. “…What?”
“You,” he beams and taps the tip of your nose with his pointer finger.
You meet his smile with a grimace.
“Actually, I sort of love you, as it turns out,” he corrects himself in a lilt. “And when you love someone, you do the shit you hate to make them happy, right? Isn’t that what it’s all about?”
You don’t answer him, just shrug.
“Well, either way, I’m happy to do all the boring shit if it means there’s a chance I get to make you feel even a little bit better,” Eddie tells you, pinching his thumb and forefinger together and leaving just an inch or more of space to squint his eye through.
That hand flops down and lands on your thigh. His thumb absentmindedly rubs over the skin there. His smile turns sheepish.
“I will happily fold laundry and do taxes and wash dishes and… all that stupid, boring shit for you for the rest of my life, as long as I can look over and see you next to me…”
Your heart swells with a distant happiness you haven’t felt in weeks.
Eddie helps you until you feel better enough to do it yourself.
Needless to say, when he stops by your place and finds it completely spotless, he doesn’t bother to hide his excitement. He rushes to your room and finds you in bed, flipping through a book. The small radio on your bedside table plays something synth-y.
He realizes you’ve traded in The Smiths for The Psychedelic Furs and that your lavender candle is burning on your desk and that you’ve spritzed yourself in your vanilla perfume.
Those are all staples in your little routine that you borderline can’t live without. You always missed out on them when you got into your funks, but here they are again…
Eddie tries not to smile too wide.
“How’s it hangin’?” he sing-songs when he waltzes into your room.
“Fine...” you murmur, half-distracted by your novel. After a few long seconds, your eyes finally flit up to his. He’s doing a terrible job of hiding a grin. “…Why are you looking at me like that?”
Eddie shrugs as he takes off his leather jacket. He neatly lays the thing over the back of your desk chair and smooths out the wrinkles.
“‘Cause I love the shit out of you,” he answers like it’s nothing, like the words don’t mean everything to you. “And I’m really fucking proud of you.”
“Proud of me?” you echo in a scoff.
Because, to you, crawling out of a three week long funk is hardly something to be proud of. You don’t feel like you should be rewarded for being human, but Eddie knows that getting through the hard shit is a part of being human. And he’s so goddamn proud of you for it.
“Yep,” he nods with pink cheeks and a hopeful grin. “I’ve never been prouder of you, babe. And, like, I’m always proud of you, so that’s saying something.”
“Shut up,” you mutter under your breath. Your attention flits back to your book rather than focusing on the intense gaze Eddie looks at you with. You don’t get through a single sentence before he rips the thing from your hands. “Eddie!—”
You look at him again and find that he’s sterner now, but still so tender — chocolate eyes hardened but soft around the edges. There’s a kind grin on his and an air about him that tells you he’s serious.
Eddie rounds your bed and plants himself at the edge of it. He keeps your book hostage in one hand and holds onto your calf with the other, running his thumb over the soft skin of your knee.
“I’m serious,” he tells you. “Like, I know shit gets hard for you sometimes, but... I don't know, watching you get through it is… really fucking cool, babe.”
He laughs when it makes you laugh.
“Seriously. It’s like you get stronger every day, and… not to be a total sap or whatever, but I feel really lucky that I get to see it.”
You’re not sure whether to duck away from his gaze or revel in its warmth. You manage somehow to do both with a distant pout on your face.
Eddie’s grin widens until the dimple in his right cheek reveals itself. “What?” he laughs. “What’s that look for?”
“‘Cause you’re nice to me,” you mumble like the cutest little storm cloud. “And it’s gross… And also I love you.”
“Well, get ready, babe. You got a whole lifetime of me being nice to you coming your way, so… Be prepared to be sick of me by the time we’re all old and wrinkly, alright? ‘Cause I’m still gonna love the shit outta you then.”
You grumble when he smacks a kiss to your knee.
You hope he keeps his promise.
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#stranger things x reader#eddie munson imagine#stranger things imagine#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie spaghetti drabble#st drabbles
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LESSON 1: BLOWJOBS with MIYA ATSUMU
synopsis♱ ‣ Best friend Atsumu gets the proposition of a lifetime. To accept or to not accept.
cw♱ ‣ nsfw, gn!reader, blowjob (m!receiving), ball sucking, handjob, inexperienced reader and atsumu
word count♱ ‣ 2.3k words
author’s note♱ ‣ Hopefully this makes up for the crimes I have committed against ‘tsumi in the past. I love him so I have to give him a hard time of course. Enjoy!
♱ explicit content! minors do not interact ♱
“I have a proposition for you.”
The words leave your lips before you can draw them back in. This was definitely not one of your best ideas, but you’d already begun, and you weren’t about to give up just yet.
Atsumu pauses his endless swiping and glances up from his phone, giving you his full attention. “’m listening.”
Atsumu has been your best friend since childhood. He’d been there when you’d started your awkward training bra phase and you’d been there for his horrid bowl cut era that had lasted a total of one hour. There was nothing that you two couldn’t talk about or do together, and you were about to test the boundaries of that statement.
“Can I give you a blowjob?”
Years of listening to podcasts and reading novels describing the intricacies of doing the deed had led you to this moment, where you wanted to test out the knowledge you’d acquired before going out into the real world. And since you were both single and bored, what better test subject than your best friend.
Atsumu’s expression had turned from curious to completely dumbfounded in the matter of seconds and you began worrying that he may refuse your proposal. Although, who could blame him? It’s not every day that your best friend proposes to suck you off.
Your cheeks burn crimson as you rush to explain yourself. “I’ve never done it before, and I can’t think of anyone I trust more than you to give me some pointers. I mean you’ve had so many girlfriends over the years that you’d definitely know a thing or two. Or ten.” You joke, hoping to lighten the mood even the slightest bit.
No response.
Your rambling continues. “It will be completely platonic. It’s just that I have all this theoretical knowledge on how to do it and I want to see if it will actually work out before I make a fool of myself.”
As the seconds tick by your hands grow clammy and regret burns in your gut but you refuse to back down now. Maybe a little push would do the trick.
“I could always ask Osamu.”
“No! No!” You’ve finally broken through his dumbstruck expression and his exclamation gives you some form of hope. “Not that scrub. I’ll do it! I was just shocked for a second.” His expression quickly turns sheepish. “But I doubt I’d be of any help though.”
It was your turn to don the quizzical expression. “Why?”
With averted eyes and rosy cheeks, he scratches the back of his neck. “Well… Because I don’t have as much experience as ya think I do in that field. Actually…To be honest, I have no experience in that field.”
Blind shock passes through you, and you immediately look at him in disbelief. “No way. You’ve had so many girlfriends before. You can’t tell me that you’ve never gotten so much as a blowjob before.”
“Said it was degrading to them and I didn’t want to force anything. ‘sides, none of them lasted long anyway.” He admits embarrassedly.
To be fair, the main reason you’d chosen to ask Atsumu was because you had the notion that his past trysts would arm him with some helpful tips. It was definitely not because every time his shirt would rise an inch, displaying his deep v-line and a glimpse of his abs, your mouth would water just imagining your tongue licking from his happy trail to a place you could only envision in the darkness of your room when your fingers managed to drift into the wetness between your legs.
And now, with your best friend blushing like the virgin he was and his consent to your proposal, you were practically ready to pounce him.
You try but fail to hide your smirk as your crawl on hands and knees from where you had been sitting on the bed to where he rests against the headboard. “Guess today is your lucky day then, Mr Miya.”
As you approach him his eyes dart from side to side, never making eye contact with yours, his cheeks still tinted pink, and hands curled into the bedsheets at his side. You slowly make your way between his outstretch legs and place your hands gently on his thighs, feeling them tense in response.
“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to ‘tsumu.” You appease, gently running your palms over his sweatpants absentmindedly.
“No, I want to. Just nervous ‘s all.” He mutters.
You smile brightly at him as he finally makes eye contact with you, albeit reluctantly. “All you have to do is lay back and tell me if it feels good or not. Easy!”
You hear him scoff but your focus is now on removing his sweatpants. With Atsumu’s assistance they make their way to your bedroom floor in a matter of seconds and your eyes are immediately drawn to the half hard appendage resting between his juicy thighs, only covered by the material of his underwear. Drool pools in your mouth and you can’t wait to put it to use.
With as much self-control as you can muster, you try to recall what you had learned before diving in headfirst, literally.
Anticipation is key. Always keep them on their toes.
Your palms find their way to Atsumu’s thighs once again and run over the smooth muscle, squeezing gently as you travel higher. You hear a sharp intake and the change in his breathing to quick shallow breaths only motivates you further.
Deciding to take the plunge, you remove his shirt to reveal his prominent abdominals before you connect your lips softly to the very hairline you had been fanaticising about. A barely audible groan rumbles in his chest and you can barely contain your excitement. Your kisses travel lower until you finally reach the waistband of his boxers, and his breathing audibly quickens. You teasingly trace your fingertips the slightest bit under the waistband as you make eye-contact with your best friend, his pupils blown, and eyes focused intently on your movements.
Slowly, you ease his boxers down his long legs before tossing it to the floor alongside his sweats, never breaking eye contact. Unable to take the suspense any longer, your eyes travel down the length of his torso to his naked lower half.
And there lies something you had only even imagined in your dreams, his fully hard cock lying against his stomach leaking droplets of precum, with enough girth and length to leave your throat and jaw aching for days to come. You had never wanted to put something in your mouth more than in this moment.
The tip and the underside of the penis is the most sensitive. Pay it the attention it deserves.
Gently grasping the twitching member, you settle on your knees between his thighs and place wet kisses to his tip and down the length of his shaft.
“Fuck.” Atsumu groans quietly upon contact as his head droops to rest on his left shoulder.
Lubrication is important and your mouth produces it for free.
Gathering all the spit that had accumulated in your mouth, you hover just above the head of his cock and let it slowly drip down from your tongue to his tip, watching as it trails down his length to your fist at the base.
“Fuck, that was hot.” Atsumu comments and the praise goes straight to your wet pussy.
“I’m glad. Any other words of wisdom you’d like to share?” you joke as your hand begins to coat his length in your spit with each upward motion, squeezing slightly as you reach the tip.
You momentarily lose his attention as his body focuses solely on the pleasure your right hand is bringing him, soft pants leaving his mouth and his abs clenching with each stroke.
“Atsumu?” you try to grab his attention, slowing your movements until his hazy eyes focus on yours.
It takes him a second before he finally responds to your previous question. “Other than for you get on with it, I have nothing to say.”
Glad to see that his sarcasm is still intact, you happily grant his request.
Start off slow and make sure that you are enjoying the process as much as your partner is.
Your tongue flattens as you lick the underside of his shaft, from base to tip, before engulfing the head into your warm and awaiting mouth, applying a bit of suction before sliding it out with a pop. The saltiness of his precum is something you easily get used to, and you find yourself savouring the heady taste.
Atsumu’s back arches as he feels the heat of your mouth envelop him before it disappears all to soon for his liking. His moan resonates through the room and his fists grasp that much tighter on the bedsheets, sweat beading on his chest.
Before Atsumu even has time to catch his breath, your mouth descends once again, and this time you’re able to take more of his length. The combination of your twirling tongue and suctions drives him wild while the incessant rotations of your hand at his base have his head tossing side to side and his eyes rolling back.
With each bob of your head, you’re able to take more of him, but gagging on your best friend’s dick was not in the cards for today, regardless of how badly you wanted him to fuck your throat until you couldn’t speak a word. You decide to take a more throat-friendly approach, one you were the most curious about.
The balls are your friends and not to be feared. Don’t neglect them.
Using your free hand, you trail it up his rigid thigh and carefully cup his balls into your palm, massaging them softly.
The action catches Atsumu off guard and causes his body to jerk unexpectantly, thrusting his cock a bit too close to your throat. You unconsciously retract and gather some much-needed oxygen into your lungs, breathing deeply.
Atsumu immediately reaches for you, eyes wide and frantic. “Shit! ‘m sorry. It felt good I promise. I was just shocked.”
“I’m fine ‘tsumu. I was just shocked as well. Now let me get back to what I was doing.” You push at his chest with a smirk until he’s lying against the headboard once again, returning your focus back to his still hard cock and ignoring his worried glances.
Your right hand continues its strokes while you attend to the heavy sacks dangling between his legs once again. This time, instead of your hand, you place teasing licks and kisses along each sack and Atsumu sighs in pleasure, sinking further into the mattress.
“Feel good, ‘tsumu?” you ask.
“Mmm.” He moans in return, concern long gone.
Satisfied with his response, you drag an experimental lick from his perineum to his balls before taking one into your mouth while your free hand fondles the other. Atsumu’s moans sound heavenly to your ears and only spear you on to drag more out of him. You switch to the other side so that neither go unattended before your attention is drawn to the twitching of his cock.
Wanting to feel each twitch on your tongue, your lips find their way around his length once again, spit dribbling from the corners of your mouth and mixing with his precum that leaks in droves now. Atsumu voices your thoughts.
“Fuck! Fuck! ’m gonna come soon. Ya better pull off.” His fingers tangle in your hair but he makes no attempt to move you.
Reluctantly, you slide off his dick with a pop in order to ask, “Do you wanna come in my mouth, ‘tsumu?”
Due to his unfocused gaze and unrestrained groans, his unfiltered response doesn’t surprise you. “Yes! Please let me come in your mouth!”
With renewed vigour, you swallow his cock once again, using both hands now to focus on the never-ending length that you are too inexperienced to take whole. The wet sounds and groans that resonate around you have only added to the tingling between your legs and clenching your thighs does little to quench the pleasurable burn.
You receive three warnings, Atsumu’s hands tightening the grasp they have on your hair, the relentless throbbing of his cock and a breathless “Comin’!” before the taste of hot and salty cum fills your tastebuds and throat.
You try to swallow as much as you can before the need for air kicks in, the rest coating your fingers and Atsumu’s cock. Since you didn’t want to waste a drop, you lock eyes with Atsumu’s half-lidded ones while cleaning up the remainder of his cum from your body and his, licking your lips and drawing one last unabashed groan from him.
“So, how was it?” you ask cheerfully, in direct contrast to your best friends drained state, both physically and mentally.
“Ain’t no way that was ya first time doing that. My legs feel like jelly.” He admits breathlessly.
His reaction brings a smile to your face, and you’d be damned if you let this end all too quickly. “So, same time tomorrow?” you ask.
The look on Atsumu’s face coupled by his naked state is almost comical. “Wait, what?”
“Well, I haven’t been able to test out all that I’d learned. Did you think this was a one-time thing?” you ask innocently, an obvious ploy but one he falls for, nonetheless.
And when two days, turns to three days, turns to 4 years, and you’re able to wake up next to your best friend every morning, you’re glad you had the balls to go after his balls.
#atsumu#miya atsumu#atsumu x reader#atsumu smut#miya atsumu x reader#miya atsumu smut#hq smut#hq x reader#haikyu x reader#haikyu smut
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could you pls do no. 44 with kanata? thank you 💕
Kanata Yatonokami:
44. Tentative kisses given in the dark.
The dark made it easier.
Kanata had been the one to suggest it which would endlessly surprise you, as you never thought he’d stay over night like this in the first place. And to think he was fine with sharing your bed when you had suspected he’d just take the couch… your getting injured must have bothered him more than you suspected. You had overheard his phone call with Nayuta too, who told him to stop worrying over stupid shit and just spend the night with honest intentions, but you didn’t entirely understand that part.
Must just be a twin thing.
The bed is even more comfortable with him in it, Kanata slipping under the covers like it was a daily routine. You felt your heart flutter at the thought of this being your first night spent in bed together, but there was a slight damper on the mood purely because of the circumstances surrounding why he was here to begin with.
“You never should’ve gotten hurt.” The ‘because of me’ was heavily implied from the pain in his voice, the way the blanket shifted as he moved further away from you. You reached out to stop him, fingers tightly wrapping themselves in the smooth material of his shirt; you winced in pain as your bruised ribs did not appreciate the sudden movement. You heard Kanata’s own sharp inhale, reacting to your pain, slowly rolling back to his side so your arm didn’t stretch beyond its limit.
“I’m okay!”
“Stop sayin’ that when I can hear you’re not,” Kanata hissed back, not wanting you to spare his feelings. His own stupidity had gotten you into a fight, and he should feel sorry for it.
“Okay, so I’m in a little bit of pain, but I don’t blame you. And it’s really pissing me off that you’re pulling away when I already said I forgive you.”
“I’m right here.” He lingered closer, and while it was hard to make out his face, you could feel how much distance had been closed between you. The conversation had died out but neither one of you moved, the silence ticking on so long you almost wondered if he had fallen asleep. He did not, because Nayuta’s use of ‘innocent, honest’ intentions echoed through his head. He had only planned to sleep on the couch, yet when you put up the offer to sleep in the bed together he couldn’t deny it. His mind wasn’t in the gutter yet but with how close you were, how you still hadn’t let him go, how he can smell your body wash that lingered on your skin, it was getting to him.
Kanata’s next move is, again, smothered in innocent intentions even if the location may bring that under review. Kissing was an inherently intimate thing to do, but to kiss while in thin, easily removable clothing, while in bed, just added to the emotion of the moment. He doesn’t think he deserved to kiss you after tonight, but you didn’t allow him to linger on that.
Your noses brushed thanks to Kanata, yet he wasn’t closing the gap quick enough. Perhaps he reached the end of his willpower, or he was filling himself with useless thoughts of doubt, but you could only wait so long. Your kiss is fast, too quick for him to truly appreciate, but it kicked his brain back into gear. The second kiss is led by him, still wary, gentle, like Kanata was holding himself back on purpose. You wanted to knock some sense into him but it seemed he was using his brain again, the kisses growing more confident.
You have no doubt something more would’ve happened if you weren’t covered in bruises, Kanata finding the self control to pull away, albeit very slowly. There was another silence but a much more comfortable one, where you both enjoyed the comfort of the other's warm body before slipping into a restful slumber.
#Paradox Live#Paralive#Paradox Live Imagines#Paralive Imagines#Paradox Live x Reader#Paralive x Reader#Kanata Yatonokami#Yatonokami Kanata#Kanata Yatonokami x Reader#Scenario#Kiss Prompts
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Devil May Cry Boys Dealing With Your Violent, Emotional Breakdown
Parings: Dante, Reboot Dante, Reboot Vergil, Nero, V x Reader (reader is gender neutral but there are some comments that may seem to veer one way or the other)
This is a weirdly specific idea but it came to mind while trying to calm myself down from an emotional dysregulated episode. I’ve never gotten violent with people but I have trashed some things in my blind panic and rage, so the physical attacking aspect might not be too realistic. I tried.
Disclaimer: This story shouldn’t be taken as a serious representation of mental troubles or as a guide on how to deal with someone who is having an episode.
Trigger Warnings: Forceful confinement. Attacking others and (in one case) being attacked. Mentions of wanting to hurt others and yourself.
Dante
“Welcome home.” Dante greeted, fully expecting the glare you shot him considering he could hear your stomping and cursing from across the street.
Something on your mission had clearly ticked you off and Dante intended to stay out of it.
However, things change when he gets up from his desk and starts towards your shared bedroom, hoping to take refuge there while the storm passed.
You start accusing him of abandoning you and not caring about you.
“Hey now, you know that’s not what this is about.” He keeps up his joking tone, hiding the honest offense he took at your claims.
He knows that once this episode passes, you’ll apologize and tell him not to take the things you say in this state seriously.
But he also knew that right now, in this manic state, you do believe everything you're saying. He has seen it and, once upon a time, felt it himself, the overwhelming feeling that the world and every creature in it are against you.
So he stayed, still intending to let you thrash around to your heart’s content. That is until you yank a Devil Arm from the wall.
“Whoa there cowboy, no need for that.” Even in the hands of someone who couldn’t call upon the demonic power within it, a Devil Arm could still cause some serious damage. Dante may be able to handle quite a bit of abuse and any furniture crushed in your rampage could be replaced, but god forbid you hurt yourself.
He grabs hold of the hand guard and tries to pluck it from your grip but you hang on like your life depended on it, screaming, pulling, swearing, kicking, and clawing at Dante in an attempt to make him let go.
His quips and prods come naturally. He teasingly says things like “Feeling feisty today aren’t we kitten?” and “I didn’t know my sweet little kitten had claws” as the only damage you are able to do to him is giving him a few nicks with a jagged nail you had broken in your rage.
Eventually, he lifts the Devil Arm up and out of your reach.
Instead of hanging there you give up on that one. You let go and make a dash for another weapon lodged in the shop’s walls.
“Alright, playtimes over.” Dante drops the Devil Arm he had confiscated on his desk and wraps his thick, strong arms around your waist, pinning your arms down at your sides. “I’m gonna have to put you in time out.”
He lifts you off the ground with ease and carries you to the couch.
You can kick, scream, and struggle around all you want but there isn’t much you can do while in his lap, your back to him.
He holds you tight, only loosening his grip a bit if you start to wheeze, cough, hyperventilate, or any other action that suggested you weren’t getting enough air.
“That’s it kitten, let it all out.” He coos between your incoherent shouts.
When you aren’t thrashing your head around, he places gentle kisses along your shoulders and up the back of your neck.
As you settle, his iron grip transitions into soothing rubbing, messaging your arms and thighs.
When you finally relax into him and start muttering apologies for your actions and what you said his jokes soon come back in full force.
Not quite immediately though as he first assures you that “It’s alright, your fine. I’m not going anywhere.”
I briefly considered writing separate entries for different stages in Dante’s life, but I felt that the only thing that would really change was how moody he got in response. So instead, I made this general scenario and slipped in some angst. Also, I had no intention of having ‘kitten’ be your go-to nickname but the quips I came up with just fit the name so well so I kept using it ^^;.
Reboot Dante
Mocking each other, playfully arguing, and coming up with creative insults were just a part of your guys’ relationship. Being able to take smack talk and throw it right back was something Dante loved about you. And from your two’s bubbling anger came rougher kisses and better sex so it was usually a win-win.
This, along with having anger issues himself and being a generally confrontational guy, resulted in Dante not realizing that your mood was more severe than any other time you got pissy. If anything, he takes this opportunity to toy with you, having fun lighting your short fuse as you worked on a mission together.
“Aww, you didn’t get that? You know, I’d spell it out for you, but that’s assuming you know your ABC’s.”
“Oh ya, you’re totally glowing babe. But I think it’s from the radiation coming off your toxic ass.”
“You're worth every penny babe. That being said, let me show you to the discount section because I found a spot for you.”
It was all fun and games for Dante until you started making crazy claims with an all-too-serious voice.
You screamed about how much you hated the world, the people in it, and yourself. That was all relatively fine. He agreed with a lot of what you said about the assholes in the world, though not about yourself. But then you started hinting at wanting to hurt yourself.
He tells you to chill out in what may seem like his usually cocky tone but anyone who knew him well enough would have caught the twinge of uncertainty and fear that crept out.
Dante turns away from you, whips out a cigarette, and lights it. “Let’s just get this shit over with.”
Once the two of you were done with this mission and out of limbo then he could get you both something to drink to calm down. Or maybe he would hand you off to Kat.
Out of all the moments for Kat to split off to do something else, why did it have to be the time Dante needed her help the most?
He can hear you stomp after him screaming your lungs out but he isn’t in the mood to yell back anymore.
Dante keeps his glaring eyes straight ahead, his shoulders tense up, and the pinch hold on his cigarette grows stronger, denting the filter.
Then, everything escalates all too suddenly.
His shoulder is grabbed. He is spun around. His cigarette snaps and tumbles into his hand where it quickly burns a hole through his glove and skin. You’re screaming in his face, asking if this is what he wants. Theirs a gun between you two. Dante’s fight or flight reflexes kick in and his instincts choose what it always did.
He slams his clenched fist up into your gut, knocking the air out of your lungs. You drop your gun and crumble to the floor, hands wrapping around your stomach as your desperate attempts for air turn into violent coughing.
“Shit! Fuck! I’m sorry I-” Dante reaches down to you but when you, whether intentionally or not, jerk away from his shaking hand his heart drops into his churning stomach.
“Kaaaaat!” Dante turns and takes a few steps away from you. “Kat! Where the hell are you?”
“I’m here Dante.” Kat's white lucid form comes sprinting around a corner at the rare sound of panic in Dante’s voice. “What happened? Are you guys okay?” She quickly notices you curled up on the ground fighting for breath and rushes over.
“Get them out of limbo.” He orders, unable to look at your now crying face out of shame.
“What about you?”
“I’ll stay here and finish the mission. Just get them somewhere safe. Help them.” Because God knows Dante can’t. He’ll just fuck up more than he already has.
I believe that reboot Dante would, by far, be the worst at handling violent emotional breakdowns. This man can’t keep himself in check when walking down the street half the time. There is no way he can navigate someone else’s emotions. But now that he has you, Kat, and Vergil (people that he wants to protect and keep a positive relationship with) he is trying to reign in his anger around them. Bad habits die hard though. That was my thought process.
Reboot Vergil
It started with you and Vergil worrying over something having gone wrong on your recent mission. This includes your own failings, which he will point out and calmly instruct you on how you could have done better.
When he notices that you are getting far more riled up about this than usual his own negative comments lessen and eventually stop when you take on a doomful mindset.
At first, he stays calm, telling you that “things will be dealt with”, “everything would be fine”, and “no need to get so worked up”.
But as you kept yelling and start stomping around, he grows impatient, telling you to go cool off somewhere else as he tries to gently lead you out of the room.
Not taking this well you fight back, getting up in his face and screaming at him.
He doesn’t back down though, standing up straight and glaring down at you. He shouts your name at you like an angry parent trying to assert dominance and instill slight threat.
When you suddenly start physically attacking you catch him off guard and get a single good hit on him, a punch to the jaw. Any attempt after that though he easily blocks or evades single-handedly, his other hand holding his sore jaw.
He doesn’t try to grab or restrain you though, not until you turn your violence onto the objects around you two.
Ungodly amounts of irreplaceable documents were spread around the room. Terabytes of data on encrypted memory sticks. Stacks of incriminating papers. Ancient and fragile books. All were so easily destroyable and it was all the same to you in your blind rage.
So, begrudgingly, Vergil retrieves one of the pairs of handcuffs used by The Order from a draw and wrestles you into a sitting position. He cuffs your hands behind your back and around an unpowered radiator mounted to the wall.
As you thrash and scream Vergil tries to do something to distract himself, some work or making a drink. All the while one of his hands rubs his already-healed jaw as if it could soothe his non-physical pain.
Once your adrenalin runs dry and you are left sitting slack against the wall, Vergil approaches you. He goes down on one knee in front of you, making himself less threatening, though still above your slouched form.
“I’m going to take the cuff off now alright?” He doesn’t proceed until you respond with a quiet affirmation.
He unlatches each cuff separately, taking the time to gently slide each of your hands free, delicately holding your soar wrists which were red and limp from the struggle.
“Would you like something to drink?” He offers as he stands up, still gently holding your wrists, urging you to stand. When you don’t move, he places your hands on your lap.
“I’ll be right back.” He promises, stepping out of the room momentarily. He returns with a mug of water, an orange, and an ice pack.
He lays them in front of you like an offering to a goddess. He doesn’t ask for an explanation or an apology. He doesn’t ask you to leave nor does he leave you. He’ll let you reflect in silence for as long as you need while he works close by.
“If you want to talk, I’ll be here to listen, always.”
This is the first of the set I wrote (though not the first one I thought up) so it is a bit different from the others as I was still trying to settle on a style. He is also the only one in this group that would probably have actual restraining equipment on hand to use on you and would know how to do it. The order does some shady shit so you’re not the first person he has had to tie up. Though you are the only one to get such nice treatment after ;).
Nero
Despite the fact that Nero is guilty of violently lashing out at people and things, he is wholly unprepared for your breakdown.
To him, it started like any other argument you two had. Your voices grew louder, your brows knit together in glares, and baseless claims, threats, and swearing spilled from each of your mouths recklessly. Kyrie was fussing in the background, trying her best to calm the situation with her words.
But then you started to hit things. You punch a wall, breaking through the drywall and knocking things off it. You kicked at tables and shelves, rattling the things on them into falling over or to the floor.
“The hell is your problem?!” He more so accused than asked.
He doesn’t approach you though, yelling back at you from a distance as he felt his right arm flex as the adrenalin in his body was making his arm crave violence, but he wasn’t going to lay a hand on you.
That was his intention, but then you started throwing things. In your blind rage you were just flinging things around randomly, but then you threw a cup in Nero’s direction.
He easily doges with a lean and it sores past him. It shatters against the wall… right beside Kyrie.
She lets out a surprised shriek, jumping back as the broken shards graze her dress though do not cause any damage.
Nero snaps, his protective brother instincts kicking in as he storms over to you.
“Nero, wait.” Kyrie pleads, reaching for his arm but he brushes it away.
“Stay back Kyrie, I’ve got this.” Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do but he had to stop you.
“Please don’t hurt them.” Kyrie cries though she heeds Nero’s demand and backs out of the room, knowing that she would just be in the way.
Of course Nero wasn’t going to hurt you. He could never. And that’s the problem. He doesn’t know how to stop someone’s violence without resorting to it himself.
As he watches you scream and throw things, which he makes sure to catch and drop on the floor, while also crying and shaking he is reminded of an angry and frightened child lashing out. You remind Nero of his childhood self.
As a child… what did people do to stop him?
A distant memory of himself and Credo flashes in Nero’s mind.
Now within arms reach you take a wild swing at him. Nero uses your momentum against you, spinning around you and pushing you forward while tripping you so you fall to the wood floor.
You hear the stomp of boots on either side of you. As you prepare to lift up onto your hands and knees, a massive weight lands on your lower back, forcing you back down.
Nero was sitting on you, pinning you to the ground.
Though not totally understanding what had you acting like this, Nero could tell that you weren’t in your right mind and you weren’t able to communicate coherently until you calmed down. So he kept you under control until you two were able to work things out together.
Though he is unable to use his legs, as they were straddling your hips, his hands are free. He doesn’t want to use them though, worrying about hurting you with his overpowered right arm. However, he will stop you from hurting yourself by tossing any sharp object out of your reach and holding your head steady if you start slamming it against the floor.
He also responds to a lot of your accusations once realizing that many of them were, whether directly or indirectly, self-deprecating.
“Broken? What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’re not a failure.”
“You just need to calm down, you’re fine.”
“Of course I love you.”
Like Reboot Dante, Nero has an attitude problem and is prone to starting/egging people into fights. However, Nero has enough self-control to not hit things he knows he shouldn’t. Like, no matter how pissed off he got at Kyrie (unlikely considering she is a saint) he would NEVER lay a hand on her. I wanted to implant that feeling here.
His solution to this is childish (fun fact I got this idea from a past experience where a family member did this to child me when I was having a tantrum) but he grew up having his anger funneled into combat training for The Order of the Sword so he doesn’t really have many experiences dealing with anger any other way.
V
You leave a scratch on the side of Nico’s van by how forcefully you slammed the door open.
“So you’re gonna bust up my van now dickhead?” She screamed, trying to follow you to continue your guys’ argument but Nero wrapped her in a Nelson hold to stop her before she started a fistfight she wouldn’t win. “How about you shove a tampon in before coming back!”
As Nico thrashed, shouting stranger and stranger insults, and Nero attempted to get her to chill out, V silently slid out of the van.
He had stayed silent through the argument, observing the situation unfold but not feeling the need or right to intervene. This decision had been solidified when Nero tried to interject and had only made things worse.
His lack of action, however, did not equate to a lack of concern for your well-being.
“Are they done yet?” Griffon said wearily as he was summoned, having evaporated to safety the moment his mocking comments had gotten him grabbed by the leg and tossed into the front windshield of the van.
In his defense, according to himself, that attack wouldn’t have worked on him if his master didn’t ban him from hurting you.
“Scout ahead for demons,” V instructed while calling Shadow out from the floor. His eyes stayed glued to your form as you stomped down a dirt path leading away from the city and into a lightly forested area. Though with it being the fall season many of the trees were close to bald of any foliage. “and lead them away from any danger.” V added with a stroke to the top of Shadow’s head.
Shadow darted back into the ground and slid after you.
“Alright lover boy,” Griffon took off from V’s outstretched arm. “but I’m gonna keep high. I don’t feel like becoming Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Oh,” V called Griffon’s attention again who had already risen higher than the sparse trees. “and keep an eye out for anything… derelict.”
“Oh-ho! Now we’re talking.”
And so, you were tracked and led through the woods. Griffon zoomed around overhead, signaling to Shadow whenever your path would lead to a pack of demons while looking for an abandoned structure you could ‘play’ with. Shadow didn’t so much push you into any direction, but more so shepherd you through acts like blocking your current path and making attention-grabbing sounds and/or movements along safer roads. And V studied you from a distance, keeping you in earshot while casually avoiding your line of sight.
Though he was following you out of a desire to watch over you while allowing you the space to vent your frustrations, he also found a sort of fascination in your outrage.
The lover of art in him was attracted to pure, intense, unfiltered emotions. As if he was watching an interpretive dance or a slam poetry performance, V studied your movements, your posture, the words you spoke and how you said them, trying to decipher them to understand the underlying feelings from which they originated from.
By the time you finished tearing apart the remains of what was once a cabin, he had a firm grasp on what had truly set your heart ablaze.
He doesn’t approach you until you slump to the floor in exhaustion. Your head lolls back as your tired muscles surrender to your weight. You start to fall back but are quickly caught by V’s arm sliding around your shoulders and supporting your neck.
He flouts down to one knee as he lowers you onto the awaiting Shadow, the feline’s warmth and silky coat cradling around you as your new support in this almost laying position.
As your body and consciousness fight over whether or not to sleep here and now, you feel a soothing warmth glide up your cheek.
“Rest now love.” V’s fingers glide up the side of your face and into your hair. He could discuss his theories on what feelings deep in your heart had caused you this pain after you had recovered your strength, even if that meant sleeping under the fall sunset somewhere deep in the woods. “I’ll be here to watch over you.”
This was the last one I wrote since I am still getting a grasp on V’s, and his familiar’s, mannerisms. I think I did okay. This one ended up the longest and I blame this on integrating Griffon and Shadow, which I also think I did okay writing.
Also, I debated whether to have Griffon present as you fell asleep, maybe cuddling up on you for warmth, but I feel like he would talk your ear off and not let you rest so I left him out.
#devil may cry#dmc devil may cry#dmc imagines#dante x reader#reboot vergil x reader#reboot dante x reader#nero x reader#v x reader#dante x you#reboot dante x you#reboot vergil x you#nero x you#v x you#dmc reboot#dante dmc#dmc dante#dmc vergil#nero#v#v devil may cry#v dmc x reader#v (dmc) x reader
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Ghost Sex
potential triggers: nsfw, unprotected sex, slight angst, blood, mentions of violence, oral (fem!receiving)
You had been trapped in the Cortez for years. A living hell. The countess had found you, and brought you back to the hotel. Only to kill you, slitting your throat with one of her silver claws. At first you hadn’t realized you had died, and that made things confusing. You wandered the halls, trying to escape the hotel. Then he had found you. Curled up on one of the empty beds on the fourth floor, crying. He had thought you were the most innocent, delicate thing he had seen in years. James March was not a very loving or affectionate man, but he had tried his best to comfort you, coaxing you up into a sitting position as he explained to you exactly what was going on. You were dead, but so was he, and he was positive you two would get on quite well. What else would you have to do for all of eternity?
-Many years later-
Tonight was a very special occasion. He had invited you to dinner with him. It was the day before his annual devils night, so needless to say, he was in a spectacular mood. He had led you into his suite and pulled out a chair for you. His hand brushed your shoulder before he bounded over to his own chair. He lifted his glass of what you only assumed was absinthe. You lifted your own glass in a toast before taking a sip. You were never the first to begin a conversation with Mr. March. So you waited patiently for him to speak.
“You’re very quiet tonight, what is on your mind?” He asked, swirling the strong liquid in his glass, his dark eyes watching you intently. Almost like a predator watching its prey. It was exhilarating.
“Oh, I’m just excited for your special night tomorrow!” You decided to say, and although you were, there was much more on your mind than just that. Being trapped in a hotel for eternity proved to be lonesome.
“I am quite excited as well, dear. But I can sense there is something else nagging you. Speak up, you may tell me.”
You swallowed hard. He always knew when something was up. He seemed to know you like the back of his hand. All those years spent by his side proved very useful for him to understand exactly what made you tick. Did you tell the truth? You should, because god knows what he’d do if he caught you in a lie. He did not tolerate liars.
“I’m beginning to grow rather lonely in the hotel..” you whispered. “There aren’t many people coming in as of late, and…I’m craving relations…” you admitted with a blush. His eyes seemed to bore into your soul as you avoided his burning gaze, looking down instead at the fancy tablecloth adorning the table that he once ate at with his countess.
“Oh!” He exclaimed “why did you not make me aware of this sooner? I never want you to suffer here in my hotel! I must admit I have also grown a bit lonely these days without my dear countess…” he trailed off, sighing a bit before shaking his head. “I am not usually this straightforward. I’m a man of my time, but I have a suggestion that may prove to be enjoyable for us both.”
You tilted your head curiously, meeting his eyes finally, which had seemed to darken impossibly. What possibly did he have to suggest?
He continued, “We are both craving intimacy. I consider you a close companion, so why should we not… indulge ourselves a bit?” He grinned, getting up from his seat and making his way to you.
“Oh Mr. March!” You looked up at him in shock. Was this a cruel joke? An act to make you look like a fool?
“What do you say, darling?” He whispered, having somehow gotten right up close to you, his ghostly breath fanning against your ear as he leaned over your body. You squeezed your legs together in a futile attempt to control yourself.
“I can practically smell your arousal, darling.” He purred against your ear, a hand making its way to your thigh “you are no good at hiding anything from me.”
Your breathing sped up as you looked at him. He clearly wanted this, and who were you to deny Mr. March of what he desired?
You slowly, gingerly pressed your lips against his, much to his dismay. He reciprocated with harsh movements. Teeth and tongue. You could tell he was a very rough man, and if you weren’t already dead, the idea would certainly frighten you. Even now it did just a bit.
“Come, darling. Take off these garments, they are beautiful, but useless to us as of now.” He whispered, taking your hand and leading you away from the table, to his bed. He all but ripped off your dress, a growl coming from low in his throat as he looked over your frame. He did not speak a word as he shrugged off his jacket and undid the buttons on his white dress shirt. He tossed them somewhere on the floor, to be retrieved at a later date.
He sat back on the bed with a wicked grin “are you not going to help your dearest friend?” He teased, hands deftly undoing the buckle of his jeans.
You got on your knees in front of him, gently pushing his hands away as you undid the belt and popped the button on his tight dress pants.
The next few minutes blurred past, full of wet, hot kisses, and discarded fabric, grinding, and breathless pants, until you two were fully naked on the bed, him hovering over you.
“I must taste you darling, then the real fun can begin.” He made his way down your body, his large hands easily spreading your thighs. He bit down hard on your inner thigh, causing a cry to leave your lips. When you looked down, you saw he had drawn blood. The wound instantly closed up, but the crimson coloring stained your pale skin.
“Patience darling. Pain and pleasure are very closely linked, the lines can be blurred between them. It feels good, does it not?” He lapped at the blood, cleaning up the mess he had made.
All you could manage was a nod, a broken moan leaving your lips as the man in between your thighs delved his tongue into your folds, wasting absolutely no time in devouring you. He was a starved man, and you were his meal. He was very skilled with his tongue, but when he added his fingers, it was a whole other level of pleasure. One you hadn’t ever felt before.
“Mr March-“ you whined, hands fisting in the bedsheets
“You may call me James while we are together so intimately.” He said against your core, slipping a finger into your tight heat. He was a gracious man, this was his reward to you for being so loyal to him all these years.
He spent his time pleasuring you. If you weren’t so impatient, he could stay between your thighs for hours on end and be perfectly content.
He had denied you your release, and after your non stop begging, he finally decided he’d teased you enough.
He kissed his way back up your body, cock rubbing between your folds before he slammed into you. He did not give you the mercy of letting you adjust, instead thrusting harshly right from the start.
He licked away the salty tears that fell from your eyes, shaking his head “the lines darling, remember? They are blurred. It feels good, pain is pleasure.” He whispered, pressing tender kisses to the skin of your neck, a drastic difference from his animalistic thrusts. He truly was an animal, there was nothing gentle about the way he fucked you.
You let your body go lax, trying your best to feel the pleasure instead of the pain, and after a while, once you had fully stretched around him, adjusted to the harshness that was James March, that wave of pleasure began to build deep in your core, like a tsunami.
“I am close to my release, darling.” He let out a moan, his hips beginning to lose their harsh rhythm. Much to his surprise, and yours as well, you shoved him back against the bed, crawling on top of him, letting him slip back into you.
“Oh darling- ride me. Ride me as if I was your slave. Use me for your pleasure.” His hands tightly gripped your thighs as you bounced on his cock, which was now hitting even deeper inside of you.
Your release built up quickly, and you could tell James was close as well, his cock twitching inside of you.
Without much thought, you wrapped your hands around his throat and squeezed.
“do not cum until I sa-“
“AGHh-“ you were cut off by a loud moan from James, warmth filling you. He had cum. He came from you choking him. What a sick being he was.
“You’re going to wish you hadn’t done that, James.”
He panted as he looked up at you. He was in for the night of his life, and his only regret was that he hadn’t done this sooner.
#american horror story#evan peters icons#american horror story rp#ahs smut#ahs fandom#ahs fanfic#evan peters characters#james patrick march#james march smut#james march x reader
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Team Stan getting pantsed by their s/o 👖🩲😂😂😗
Bro, random ideas like this just come up in my head for no reason and I can't resist the urge to write about them. 🙃🙃🔫
Warnings: None
Gender: Neutral
💙 Stan Marsh 🌀
Dude...wtf?
You just pulled down Stan's pants in front of his friends and then you started laughing hysterically on the floor at him.
"What the fuck did you do that for (Name)?!?!" Stan glared at you before pulling his pants back up with Cartman trying to hold in his laughter.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA" You and Cartman both bursted out in laughter as Kyle, Stan, and Kenny stared at you both.
"I see, so you set this up didn't you fatass?!"
"Nope! I never told (Name) to pull Stan's pants down at all they did it themselves!"
"Sorry Stanley, I just thought it would be funny" You said trying to look innocent.
Stan glared at you again before walking home.
"hah, what a pussy" Cartman said before a hand smacked him on the back of his head by Kyle.
"Shut up fat boy!".
"Don't call me fat I'm just big boned!!".
You decided to follow Stan to his house hoping that he wasn't too mad at you. After all, you just only pantsed him in front of his friends and nobody else... right?
"Stan! wait!" Stan turned his head around to face you before he could turn the knob to open the front door.
"What the hell do you want (Name)!".
"Wait...are you mad at me?". Stan ignored your question and continued trying to open the door.
You immediately wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into a hug from behind.
"If you're really mad at me then I'm sorry...what do I have to do for you to forgive me?" You clinged to him closer while burying your head into the back of his neck.
"Just...just give me some alone time to think about it alright?" You nodded and released Stan from your arms and watched him open the door and close it behind him.
You frowned as you turned around to walk back to your place.
As you were about to open the door to your house, you didn't hear Stan sneak up from behind and pantsed you right in front of your own house.
"Checkmate!" Stan said as he smirked at your own shock ness of him getting revenge by pantsing you back.
"Stan?!" You said as you immediately pulled your pants or whatever you're wearing back up with your face flustered in embarrassment.
"Sure I was a bit mad that you pantsed me right in front of my friends for no reason, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't get you back for that so now we're both even" :) 💙💙💙💙💙💙
💚 Kyle Broflovski 🌳
You're on thin ice if you think you can get away with pantsing Kyle especially Infront of his friends 😭😭
This boy is extremely pissed, you better start running or hide.
When Kyle pulled his pants back up, you pantsed him....AGAIN!! except you did it this time in the hallways and boy Kyle is 100% embarrassed.
What are you doing reader?😭 I will be praying for your safety 🙏🙏🙏
Pantsing Kyle the first time was him giving you a verbal warning, and then you did it again! If you're organizing your locker you better do it fast and get the hell out of there, Kyle is coming for you 😨
What made you think it was a good idea to pants a red headed jewish kid that has anger issues?
You would most definitely try to hide and evade him tbh. My guy does get pretty scary when he's extremely ticked off.
When that all ends, Kyle is once again for the last time going to ask you to not pull his fucking pants down like that again, what's your problem? >:(
You giggled and gave him a kiss on the cheek out of nowhere. 💚💚💚💚💚
❤️ Eric Cartman 💌
May god save your soul if you ever pants Cartman Infront of anybody....and I mean ANYBODY!
This boy ruins people's lives menacely whenever he has a reason to do so, you better be damn lucky you're his s/o or else you would've gotten the boot like everyone else he's ruined.
If you weren't his s/o...I don't know what will happen to you next after that..😨😨
But since you know better than to pants your big boned boyfriend, you pantsed him right in front of his mom or Mr kitty.
Will Cartman get revenge and pants you back? Nah, he's gotten something even better. 😈
You will be seeing poop and any other nasty stuff all over your drawer where you keep your pants at. Hey, at least Cartman didn't do anything that was extreme towards you for revenge right?
But he won't give up his revenge spree until you apologize towards him and give him loads of cheesy poofs and KFC. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
🧡 Kenny Mccormick 🍔
Out of the 4 boys, Kenny is probably the only one who doesn't get upset at you pantsing him. Even In front of other people, he's seen stuff is that more embarrassing than pulling down somebody's pants.
Right as you pulled his pants down and started laughing, he began to laugh along with you as his friends gave him confused looks.
But this doesn't mean Kenny won't pants you back as revenge, you wanna prank him? Be prepared for prank wars then :)
Pantsing each other back and forth for most of the time until you both get bored or something. 💀💀💀💀💀💀
You both might even come up with the great idea to pants the 6th graders and throw other pranks at them 🤣
Kenny is such a great guy to have fun and joke around with ☺️🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡
HELP WHY DID I WRITE THISSSSSSSS HOW AM I GETTING THESE FUN YET WEIRD IDEAS IN MY HEAD?! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
#south park x reader#south park#stan marsh x reader#kyle broflovski x reader#eric cartman x reader#kenny mccormick x reader#stan marsh#kyle broflovski#eric cartman#kenny mccormick#pantsed#funny pranks#southpark blog#southpark sp#sp x reader#x reader#southpark x y/n#southpark scenarios#southpark headcanons
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𝐂𝚨𝚻𝐂𝐇𝚰𝚴𝐆 𝚻𝐇𝚬𝐌 𝐌𝚨𝐒𝚻𝐔𝐑𝚩𝚨𝚻𝚰𝚴𝐆
ft. kazutora, rindou, draken, yuzuha, mikey
cw: 18+ mdni, fem!reader, dom!reader (kazutora & mikey), dildo riding (kazutora), orgasm denial, handjob, creampie, praise, blowjob, deepthroat, mutual masturbation, cunnilingus, fleshlight, praise
a/n: got inspiration for mikey's when a customer returned a fleshlight they bought from amazon :D anyway enjoy, i wanted to reverse the roles of my other post (i wrote these all in the dead of night, exhuasted from work so i apologize if they're a bit lacking)
❁ kazutora
he knew you told him not to touch himself, to hold off until you got home, and he tried, he really did. but the need grew unbearable as the minutes ticked by. he just wanted you to fuck him. if only you’d been home he could have avoided this—he could have been good for you.
kneeling on the bed, he lined up the dildo with his prepped hole, cock hard and already leaking precum. he couldn't feel guilty as he relished in the pleasure coursing through him as he sank down. if you found out, he'd take the consequence--whatever it may be.
he bounced at a steady rhythm, little whines falling past his lips. he wished you were beneath him, guiding his movements. as if summoned, you walked through the bedroom door. shame coursed through him at the look you leveled on him. he thought he could handle it, but the disappointment on your face was more than he could bear.
he started to raise himself off the dildo, making it only a couple inches before you stopped him with a hand on his chest. when you'd gotten so close, he didn't know. your fingers trailed down the length of his body, stopping to circle the head of his cock. that act made him take in a shaky breath, hips involuntarily bucking into your touch.
"keep going, tora," you said, wrapping your hand around him and giving a single stroke. "i'll even help you."
he whimpered at your words. but as you started your slow strokes, he began to move again, building up to his orgasm once more. it felt good, the combination of the dildo in his ass and fucking himself in your hand. he could feel his orgasm swiftly approaching. his thighs tensing and hands gripping the sheets.
then the hand wrapped around his cock stopped, going slack. he whimpered, attempting to fuck your fist to no avail. "please," he cried, "i'm so close."
oh how you loved to hear his desperation. it sent a heat straight through you. you crooned, "do you think i should let you cum?"
he nodded fervently, long strands of hair flicking about his face. his hips bucked again. one last push was all he needed. one last stroke and he'd be cumming in your hand. you brought your knuckles to his cheek and smoothed them over his soft skin, a soft smile on your lips.
"i'll let you cum when you deserve it."
❁ rindou
he was frustrated in more ways than one. the work piling on his desk was one thing, but then you had to go and send him that taunting picture. he stared at that picture now, hand stroking his cock, intent on relieving a little pent up stress.
yet that picture wasn't enough, no matter how good you looked it just wasn't enough. no, he needed the real thing. he tried to imagine it was your hand, that you were there on your knees between his legs, but despite how much he stroked himself and thought of you he couldn't get off. it just wasn't the same. he wanted you right now.
a knock sounded on the door before it opened, and like a prayer answered you slipped through. you stilled when you saw the state he was in. even though the sight had your panties dampening, you debated on if you should leave and come back at a better time, when he grinned at you. "just the woman i was thinking about."
a blush rose to your cheeks. he beckoned you over with a single finger. the moment you were within reach, he was tugging you into his lap and bunching your skirt up to your hips. his fingers slid over your clothed cunt. "already wet, sweetheart?" he teased as he circled the wet spot.
he slid your panties to the side, guiding you by your hip to line up his cock with your pussy. he swore as you sank down on him. the grip he had on your hips tightened as you began your slow movements. even after all the years you’ve been together, he hasn’t gotten over the feeling of your pussy clenching tight around him.
he released his grip on one of your hips to tug your top down to expose your breasts. rindou dipped his head down, placing an open mouthed kiss to your collarbone before going further. his tongue licked slowly over your nipple, lips then wrapping around the sensitive bud. you gasped as he sucked on it, releasing you with a loud, wet sound.
how he loved the noises you made. his cock twitched inside of you. he ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “make me cum, doll. i know you can do it.”
spurred on by his gentle praise, you gave him everything you could. bouncing on his cock and leaning forward just a tad so he could hear the little moans escaping you. it was just the last bit he needed. thick ropes of cum coated your walls. a groan deep in his throat reverberating against your skin as he buried his head in the crook of your neck.
he lifted his head, eyes boring into yours as his fingers trailed down the length of your body. “can’t let my good girl go without making her cum first.”
❁ draken
there was rarely a time you weren’t on draken’s mind. as he sat in the worn out chair in the office in the back of the shop, memories of the night before flashed through his head. his pants were straining against him. he normally didn't like doing this sort of thing at the shop, but what was the harm in doing it this once. so long as he made it quick.
unzipping his pants, he freed his cock. closing his eyes, he drew up an image of you, memories from the previous night that lingered and wouldn't leave him. that sight of your perfect body was almost enough to do him in. low grunts escaped him despite his best efforts.
he was close already, when someone walked into the office. he hurried to tuck himself back into his pants, thinking it was inui coming to get something. but when he looked to the door, it was you standing there with lunch in hand. he didn't know if this was a better or worse scenario.
his mouth opened to say something as you dropped the food on the desk, but the words vanished when you knelt between his legs. you freed him the restraint of his pants once again. though embarrassment ate at him, he didn't complain as your wrapped your lips around him, looking up him through your lashes.
he loved when you looked at him like that, with your mouth drooling around his cock. he brushed your hair away from your face with gentle fingers. he watched as you tried and failed to take all of him in your mouth, left to use your hand for what wouldn’t fit. you were always so determined even knowing you’d never be able to do it.
you fell into a rhythm. twisting your hand as you stroked him, licking the vein running the length of his cock, swirling your tongue over his head. every little thing you did drove him closer to the edge. his hand found its way to the back of your head. he pushed you to take him deeper, as far as you could. tears pricked your eyes as he hit the back of your throat, fighting the urge to gag.
he swore. “just a little more, baby. i’m almost there.”
the hand on the back of your head guiding your bobbing. he couldn't help himself. the warmth of your mouth wrapped around him was a feeling he'd never get tired of. you made a noise--a moan, a gag, he couldn't quite tell from the blood rushing in his ears. the reverberations of that noise went straight through, it completely undid him. he came in your mouth, pulling out to watch swallow it all. he ran his thumb over your lip, wiping away the drop that managed to seep out.
before you could register, he picked you up and set you on the desk in one fluid motion. getting down on his knees between your legs, he said, “i’d feel bad if i didn’t repay the favor.”
❁ yuzuha
it was one of those days you had to stay at work late, which wasn’t a big deal most of the time, but she saw what put on under your clothes that morning. every time she blinked she caught a glimpse of it. the moment she stepped into the apartment she b-lined for the bedroom, already beginning to remove her clothes.
situating herself on the bed, she leaned over, reached into the top drawer of her nightstand, and pulled out the vibrator she had for moments like this. she settled against the pillows and pressed the toy to her clit. she liked to start low and build herself up.
she lost herself in the growing pleasure with each increase of speed. nothing else seemed to exist in that moment, only herself and the image of you from that morning. she felt it approaching, bubbling up before spilling over.
her head was tossed against the pillows, back arching and moaning as she rode out her first orgasm, when you walked into the bedroom. you stood there awkwardly, hand still on the door handle. yuzuha smiled when she saw you and beckoned you inside. the door clicked softly shut behind you. as you got closer to her, you reached out as if to touch her. she stopped you with a simple wag of her finger. pointing to the opposite side of the bed, she said, "i wanna watch you."
you hesitated for a moment. you weren't used to being watched like that, she always wanted to be touching you, in control of your pleasure. this was foreign territory for you. and yet, it stirred something inside you. you shed your clothes, making a show of it for her. when you went to remove the lingerie you put on that morning, she stopped you.
"keep it on," she said. “i’ve been thinking about it all day.”
heat rose to your cheeks. but you obliged her nonetheless. you climbed onto the bed, situating yourself on the opposite end. legs spread, you circled your fingers around your clit through the crotchless panties, watching her movements. her eyes devoured you.
she followed the way your slicked fingers dipped into your pussy, slowly thrusting in and out of your pussy. your free hand coming up to paw at your breast. she’d forgotten all about the vibrator pressed to her own clit as you tossed your head back, arching against your fingers.
she couldn't hold herself back any longer. she tossed the vibrator aside and dove between your legs. replacing your fingers with her tongue and licked up through your folds. two fingers slipped into your cunt, pumping at a faster pace than what you had done.
she pulled her mouth away only long enough to say, “cum for me. i wanna feel you cum.”
it wasn’t long after she went back to sucking and licking at your clit that you were cumming with a moan. drenching her fingers more and more with each pump, thighs twitching around her head.
so much for trying something new, but she couldn’t be upset. she just wanted to have you right then and there. another time. another time you’d experiment. tonight, she wanted to fuck you until you couldn’t stand.
❁ mikey
his cock had been aching all day, he’d been counting down the minutes until he was able to go home and fuck you. but when he walked into the house, he found it empty. without many other options, he went and dug out his fleshlight from where he hid it and settled himself in the living room. he wasn't thinking clearly, his focus solely on relieving the ache he'd felt all day.
unwilling to waste any more time, he slid the toy over his awaiting cock. he swore under his breath. he rolled his hips slowly, restraining himself. he wanted nothing more than to cum, but he wanted to mimic the way you rode him, always so teasing and cruel.
he did that for as long as he could. but his patience broke. his breathing grew heavy and his core tightened as the speed of his thrusts increased, chasing the high he'd been craving all day. so caught up in his own lust, he didn't notice you stepping into the living room, bag already sliding down your shoulder and ready to collapse onto the couch out of sheer exhaustion when you saw it. the shocking sight of mikey thrusting his cock in a fleshlight, your name falling from his lips. it was as if all your exhaustion drained from you entirely as you walked over to him.
the moment he saw you, he slid out of the toy, dropping it beside him on the couch and full attention on you. his eyes were pleading as he said, "i need you now, i've been waiting all day."
he made to grab your wrist. you moved out of his reach and said, "but you're having so much fun with your toy, i don't want to interrupt."
"it's not the same as you. it doesn't feel as good." he tried to reach for you again, but you took a step back.
"if you wanted to fuck me that badly, you would have waited a little longer." you sat down on the coffee table, crossing one knee over the other. the look you leveled on had his cock throbbing where it lay against his stomach. "why don't you finish your fill-in pussy and then i'll consider letting you fuck me."
the noise he made was pathetic. but you left no room for argument and he didn't want to hurt his case anymore. he picked up the toy from beside him and started up again. he put on quite the show for you. moans of your name slipped in between his heavy pants. your foot slid against his calf, a gentle coax. it wasn't long after that he was cumming in the pussy he wished was yours.
his heavy-lidded eyes looked to you as you crawled next to him, a hand on his chest. "good boy," you said, taking his chin in your hand. "do you still want the real thing?"
tag list: @kazuwhora @aces-high @withlovetengen @amaejiki @renxnana @ta-kuyas @curiouslilbeast @serenareiss @nalyana @slylittlebutterfly
#tokyo revengers smut#tokyo revengers headcanons#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyorev smut#tokyorev headcanons#tokyorev x reader#tokrev smut#tokrev headcanons#tokrev x reader#kazutora smut#kazutora x reader#rindou smut#rindou x reader#rindo smut#rindo x reader#draken smut#draken x reader#yuzuha smut#yuzuha x reader#mikey smut#mikey x reader#mikey sano x reader
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so recently, scar has gotten good at minecraft. like, really good. if you watch his old stuff, it doesn't take much to see that scar's strengths generally used to lie outside of the actual, run-around-without-dying-especially-on-a-pvp-server level of play. and that's fine, it wasn't his jig, and the people he's playing with really are very good and very experienced at this sort of play. so it never needed to be something that scar was good at because his fanbase mostly watched him for other reasons, so that just wasn't something he needed to be able to do.
but for a while now, especially noticeable over the life series, he's been rapidly improving at the sorts of particular skills that the life smp server values (and also certain skillsets involved in MCC, too). The water bucket clutches spring to mind, as well as the hot-guy stuff that make him such a lethal force with a bow. (It's honestly a shame that life smp doesn't have elytra -- he regularly one-shots people from the air on hermitcraft, and it's a fantastic bit.)
And it's just so good to see because like... he didn't have to go and do that! he went and practiced those skills, and got good at them, and then came and showed them off. and it was awesome, but also he made it so creative and entertaining, and he really didn't have to do any of it at all if he hadn't wanted to. people don't play on life smp because they're good at the technical elements of the game. more than anyone else, scar's particular shenanigans and the energy he brings to the server are what make him a great fit for the series. there are plenty of players on life smp who aren't great PVPers but who get by on politicking, or scheming, or storytelling, or just generally being a good time to be around, and each of them makes the smp tick and are valuable in their own way.
not to mention that life smp is made up of such a wonderful group of human beings that they'll do whatever it takes for you to fit in. to make your thing, and your particular energy and abilities, a part of of the series. to make it that you aren't hampered by your abilities and handicaps, whatever they may be. when skizz dies early on to some early misfortune in limited life, people are pretty clearly aware that he's one of the weaker players and it might impede his ability to have a full series. but don't worry, because half the server are tripping over themselves to give him their time and lives and totems and to swear undying oaths of fealty to protect him at all costs. grian, martyn, tango, literally every one of the ties - not to mention everyone who stood around and watched as skizz killed tango - all are working together and giving up things, valuable things, to make sure this one player gets to keep time on the server, and therefore time on the series, just because that's who they are. that's what the server is. friends, playing together.
i'm sure that's also why grain stuck with scar in the first series: to make it fair. they want everyone to have a good time. To be able to do their own thing, whatever that thing is you bring to the server, be it your insane PVP skills or trying to scam players by selling them magic crystals.
which is a long way of saying: scar was under no obligation whatsoever to get good at these player-skill-based elements of minecraft. but it's wonderful that he did! he really said, "look, i know you all think i'm a walking disaster, but i need you to know, it's not because i'm bad at the game. it's because i'm me." and then he went and got crazy good at archery (well, okay, crazy good at one very specific archery move, but also pretty damn good at shooting things overall! and at flying!) and he started parkouring around a bunch and now he's mastered waterbucket clutches (and what a fucking display he got to show off in double life, too) and just all around Got Good at the things that he wasn't previously that good at.
and the best thing was that he's still such an irreverent force of chaos that it hasn't even mattered. he's still just as lethal to himself through his own terrible decisions and random lack of awareness or foresight. or even just his own desire to fun, no matter what. the man really went into a hardcore server and said alright, i'm gonna build my base up high enough to definitely kill me, and also make it out of trap doors, and oh grians here, oops i'm sure that won't go wrong. and then he went and died to his elytra failing. that's just the most scar thing I've ever seen. you can't even fault him because grain also died on that server. only joel properly made 100 hours and there's no surprises there, joel is insanely good. so its no mark against scar that he died. but how he plays it, it's just so him.
and you wouldn't have it any other way because this is why we watch him. he's entertaining because he's totally unpredictable and also predictable and good and bad and competent and incompetent all at the same time. he will waterbucket-clutch INTO an impossible situation to save a bunch of useless pandas that were almost definitely going to die and he'll get away with it. and then also he will die by setting off a trap he's trying to very obviously lure others into. yes also he fell into a pit of zombies, what of it? it's just scar and his wacky hijinks. will he die? lets find out!
scar really said the only thing holding me back is me, and then proved it.
#goodtimeswithscar#good times with scar#limited life smp#last life smp#life smp#long post#sorry for the length lol i just think he's such a bright point#and people don't realise sometimes how good a player he really is#he just hides under a total lack of applying those skills in the situations where they'd be meaningful#his meter is swinging between 'i'm a baby and i will die if you breathe on me' and 'i'm an untouchable god'#and you just cannot predict where it will land
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Threadbare (1)
Steve Rogers x Fashion Designer!Reader
Part One: Yield Strength (see series)
Summary: Steve gets to meet his favorite designer, and you get a surprise visitor at work.
Warnings: none. Maybe a bit of creepy behavior but not from Steve. Yes, I did just want to use the leather jacket gif for shiggles. What's it to ya? WC 3355
Steve Rogers hates stuffy functions. He hates the brown-nosing. He hates trying to convince people who have everything to give scraps to people with nothing. He hates watching the excess and indulgence, even when he knows it ends up giving something to those in need. He hates it. He hates the whole lot of these stupid, asinine—
Steve takes a breath and smooths his hand down the buttery fabric of a double-breasted jacket hanging next to his intended garment.
Ok, fine, he hates the functions, but he actually enjoys the dressing up part.
He didn’t used to. No. The only outfit outside of his Cap suit that ever truly fit him—before or after the serum—was his SSR uniform, and coming from a time of nothing, Steve accepted that as a huge win.
And then he woke up in this world of excess and—what do they call it? Fast-fashion?— realized that what should be easier to acquire was much, much harder to find: room to breathe.
Steve may roll his eyes at Tony’s custom everything, but he admits internally that at least Stark’s comfortable all the time. Steve would settle for being comfortable in his own skin.
This helps though, this gloriously draped, stiff in a supportive way, heavy in a grounding way, and shapely button down. He doesn’t need a whole suit tonight; it’s not that kind of event. In fact, Steve wasn’t specifically invited. He heard Tony talking about the new collection by the designer of this shirt—which happens to be the label for 90% of Steve’s dressier clothing at this point—and Steve outright volunteered himself to go with Tony.
See, Steve Rogers is now a big, broad guy, and it’s been an adjustment, as well as plain difficult, to gather a wardrobe that isn’t custom tailored due to his sheer size and proportions. The team jokes about his tight shirts, but if he buys things large enough for his shoulders, his waist swims in fabric. Steve had to live off of stretchy clothing for the first three years he was out of the ice. He wasn’t out of his Cap suit long enough for the investment to be worthwhile. Then it took another several years before he discovered Tovarich.
The man must know what it’s like to be big and broad, that’s for sure. Steve may not be much for high fashion, but he’s genuinely gotten so much comfort and enjoyment out of Mr. Tovarich’s work that Steve wants to thank him personally. For once, being Captain America is a good card to play to ensure he gets to meet the designer.
Steve adjusts his rolled sleeves a bit in the mirror, smirking at himself for being a bit of a dandy concerning his look right now, but he’s determined to have a good time out with Tony. It’s just a fashion show. How difficult can it be?
Really damn difficult, that’s what it is.
Steve isn’t prepared for the bizarre press interest in who is there instead of what is being shown. He’s used to cameras flashing at him—especially because the bright and loud pops of flashes were much worse in the ‘40s—but Steve’s in awe of the models’ complete indifference while walking a straight line with a straight face in some of the simplest, most magnificent men’s wear he’s ever seen.
If all he had to do was tick boxes on a list to order things, Steve would be in big trouble with a full bingo card and an empty wallet. It’d be worth it though.
Tony tries to talk to him every so often, but the music is outrageously loud. Steve can’t hear a thing.
He gets tapped on the shoulder by some women sitting behind him, and they try to say some more things he can’t hear.
Everyone rises to clap, and Steve joins in, overwhelmed by the fast pace of all the outfits on repeat, when the man on his other side accidentally elbows Steve and drops his program. The paper flutters to land in front of Tony’s feet, so Steve picks it up, hands it back, and the man makes an appreciative face before gesturing vaguely at the runway and mouthing his admiration. Steve nods and smiles, happy he’s not the only one fanboying over clothes.
The lights change in the venue. The photography and clapping stop. Tony starts yammering on about an after party, but Steve wants to meet the designer.
“Oh, Cap, that walk-and-wave was as close as you’re getting today. Tovarich is a hot commodity. I’ll just get you a fitting sometime.” He clamps a hand onto Steve’s shoulder and tilts his head toward the refreshments. “Shall we?”
Darn. Steve should have done more research on how fashion shows work, but he hates how invasive online snooping feels. It was fine when he was catching up on history and historical figures. However, most of the ‘news’ now is not news at all, so he avoids searching for information that way. He doesn’t ask question about Mr. Tovarich because, in theory, it’s none of Steve’s business and Steve may or may not be slightly ashamed at how obsessed he is with something as trivial as clothing.
Fashion is not something he thought about until very, very recently. The most time he’s spent worried about what he puts on is his tac suit, and the main features of that are being blade resistant and bullet proof. Those things don’t exactly interest him so much as they are in his best interest.
So Steve is rather disappointed by the outcome of the evening, but he’ll manage. For once, he’s got a tiny bright light of something to look forward to in the form of a few more dress shirts and a very sharp vest.
He goes on with life as usual.
Months later and they’re doing this thing.
It’s called the Hellfire Gala, and apparently, it’s a big, big deal. Steve’s told everyone goes all out, that he’ll need to be dressed to the nines, and he realizes this is his opportunity.
Tony’s elated to make the arrangements for him with the Tovarich Atélier and plans to go with him. He wouldn’t stop grumbling about how awkward Steve might be, raving that he can’t have Steve getting a bad rap under his clout, so Steve shows up nervous.
Tony sends a text saying he’s running late. Of course he is, today of all days.
Steve shuts his eyes and lowers his head in gratitude that there are only two seamstresses when he first arrives. The ladies—one older and one younger—offer refreshments and ask a few questions about the event and what styles he might be interested in. He explains the getup needs to highlight the ‘Cap’ persona since the gala is a celebration of their work as Avengers, but other than that, it’s the-sky’s-the-limit for Tovarich.
The younger seamstress smiles at that and calls it ‘fun.’
Sure. That’s one word for it. Steve would also call it daunting.
As instructed, he stands on a small platform while the ladies bustle about speaking quietly to each other. Steve hears Tony ring the reception bell before any measurements have started, and he heaves out a sigh of relief.
“In time for the good stuff, am I?” Stark winks.
“Always perfectly welcome, Mr. Stark,” you, the younger woman, say politely. “Would you care for anything to drink?”
“Uh,” Tony smooths his hand down his current suit front, eyes flickering to Steve, “have you met me?”
Your smile widens. “Dominica, please,” you signal to your coworker.
Between your fingers, you’ve folded a scrap of paper, something you scribbled while Steve stood awkwardly on the pedestal (which isn’t to say he has stopped standing awkwardly), and Tony snatches the paper from your grasp, unfolding it to make a challenging, inquisitive face.
Steve huffs and glares, praying his friend doesn’t start hitting on Tovarich’s employee before the man even shows up. Steve isn’t the one to be worried about.
Stark takes Dominica’s proffered tumbler of brown liquor, saying nothing.
You are a ninja with the tape measure, gentle hands sliding over his chest and waist and—Steve swallows—his hips, all while rattling off numbers…which no one writes down. Steve moves his arms and legs when told. When you’re kneeling on the edge of the platform, eye level with his crotch, Steve decides to distract himself and get some answers.
“I’ve been looking forward to my first meeting with Mr. Tovarich. When might he arrive?”
Tony clears his throat, wincing. “Not possible, buddy.”
Steve tenses.
“I thought that—“
“You can’t meet him for the the first time.” Tony holds up a hand before Steve can move. “You already did. She’s measuring the distance between your balls and the floor.”
Steve startles out a ‘what,’ snapping his legs shut with your hand between his thighs.
“Captain Steve Rogers, please meet your favorite designer,” Tony beams, shoving his tongue against the inside of his cheek and hiking up his eyebrows.
Steve shrinks, face burning.
“Hello, Captain Rogers,” you introduce yourself with a lovely smile, “I will…need my hand to make your suit, sir.”
His open-mouthed impression of a fish is cut short by standing at attention, releasing the seal of his thighs. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry.”
“Very polite,” you mutter before turning to Tony. “Mr. Stark, was that entirely necessary?”
“For the look alone, yes. My god, I’ll pay you again just to watch now that he knows.”
You push off the platform and practically skip over to Tony, reading over his shoulder. “How did I do?”
Tony looks at the piece of paper. “Damn it. Spot on,” Tony grunts.
“And that means…?”
“That I leave you alone for the rest of the consult,” Tony whines. “Fine, but make it worth it, buddy. Lady gets paid by the hour.” He snaps his fingers playfully. “Dominica, let’s take room two, my dear.”
Steve’s not sure what to do with his hands and mistakenly remains up high on the pedestal while you pull out a notebook and sit at a small table.
“Oh!” You look up at him with tender, lively eyes. “You may step down now.”
He feet seem to thunder to the floor even against the carpet. “I didn’t mean to—I just assumed that—I’m sorry, Misses—”
“It’s Miss,” you correct him. “And don’t worry. You are not the first, and you won’t be the last. Have a seat, Captain.”
“Steve.”
“Steve,” you correct yourself this time. “I’ll tell you a secret. I prefer that most people assume a man runs this business. You get to see people’s true colors when they finally find out.”
That doesn’t help Steve’s hot flush of embarrassment.
“You are one of the good ones. I can tell,” you add, adjusting to a fresh page in the notebook and marking the top corner.
In the silence Steve asks, “so you already knew my size?”
“You aren’t so different from my standard cut.”
“No,” he allows. Of course, he should have known that seeing as everything he buys from your label fits him so well. He kicks himself internally while trying not to frown at his slip up. It is, however, easy to keep a smile while basking in the glow of yours.
You pop your shoulder up into a shrug, lips morphing into a wry tease. “And I’m pretty good at what I do.”
Amazing, Steve thinks to himself. You’re amazing…at what you do.
Your elbow rests against the table, hand cupping your jaw as you hold Steve’s gaze.
“Some even call me a master of the male form.”
His swallow is deafening, which only makes you happier, and he looks down at his knee, rubbing his pant leg while his face heats.
“But for today’s purposes—“ you lean back in your chair, twirling your pencil playfully, a magic wand in your brilliant hands “—why don’t you tell me what makes me your favorite designer so I can make you my favorite client?”
Why’d you have to be so pretty? Why do you need him for so few fittings?
Steve has to stop himself from spending a Tony Stark-sized fortune on clothing for the pleasure of walking into your store and seeing you alone—well, in the hope of seeing you at all. Dominica is very sweet, sassy in a hard ass mom kind of way, and she’s one of four total assistants you have at the shop. Steve’s met three of them.
There’s just only one of you, and you’re busy.
Between his duties with the Avengers, actually sleeping, and debating with himself about what constitutes looking desperate, Steve is lucky to have caught you in-house only half the times he visits.
And then he tore a shirt. In fact, he tore three shirts, and to his credit, two of them were by accident. The third…uh, there’s a chance that when Steve exclaimed “oh shoot, I didn’t see that nail poking out” that he 100% saw that nail and deliberately brushed himself against that wall. He also may or may not have deliberately done it in front of Tony, faking that it was no big deal, because now he has the excuse that Tony is the one who told him to go see you.
Yeah, Steve agrees, if you say so.
He’s all excitement and nerves again when he rounds the corner of your street, but then the adrenaline shoots through Steve’s veins for a different reason.
A squad car has jumped the curb in front of your shop, lights flashing, doors left open, and Steve can hear lots of tense voices.
It’s a stressful enough day without the uninvited guest. Not many people—who know how you work and are not assholes—would dare to show up within a month of the Spring Show, without an appointment, and demand a rush job.
A rush job on a custom suit that you explicitly said could not be rushed before its scheduled time, mind you, but the surprise visitor doesn’t care.
Richard Fisk is broad. He has dirty blond hair that falls in front of his eyes when he tilts his head to smile. He often travels with a whole team of other imposing men.
The son of Wilson ‘Kingpin’ Fisk, however, is a prime example of personality souring good looks. Where it’s bashful and adorable that Steve Rogers hides his smile, Richard barely bridles his menacing entitlement.
You hate him, but he’s not a person you can outright refuse. He makes all of your assistants uncomfortable. Fisk is needlessly hostile to Tarik, who is thankfully not here today; he’s a creepy dick to Abby, who you insist stays in the fitting room with Anja, your longtime client who trusts you to push the envelope tastefully for a redheaded woman in her sixties; and he almost made Jules quit because he couldn’t follow instructions during a consult. Dominica stands in as the perfect buffer when she’s here, but the eldest of the Tovarich Atélier employees is currently on the other side of the city for a VIP delivery.
Your busy, busy day just got much harder.
His trio of beefy entourage flanks Fisk at the front of your shop.
“Here for my suit, sugar,” he drawls, flicking his used toothpick into a corner on the floor.
He eyes Abby as she shuts herself and Anja away from his direct ire, and although this leaves you alone, it stops your worry for their safety in addition to your own.
“As it stipulates in the commission, we take at least—“
“Those little hands are free now, I see,” he spits, stepping within an few inches of your face. His breath is foul and hot.
The aggression has you stumbling back, smashing into a side table and knocking a box of supplies to the ground.
“How ‘bout you get to work.”
You take in a heavy, fortifying, and quiet gasp. “Per your order, the fabric is manufactured off-site because teal is not a standard color. It takes time to produce. This was made very clear when you signed.”
Fisk flashes that menacing smile. “We can wait. One of these fine men can…keep you focused till you do your job.”
The condescending tone and disrespect of your work ethic spark flames of rage in your gut. Even though terror still simmers beneath, it’s too easy to let an insult fly.
“You’re lucky I’m even making it. The all white one last summer was a stretch, but teal? On you? Not something you can pull off.”
He lunges forward again. “Keep up the cheek, and I’ll lock you in my basement until I get everything I—“
“Ma’am,” a cop bursts through the shop door, “we got a call…” The officer goes quiet after one look at Fisk.
Abby must have phoned after hearing you knock supplies down, and you’re grateful, yes, but police are of little help with this guy. Cops wouldn’t dare ruffle Kingpin’s feathers or his awful son’s by proxy, but if you roll over now, you’ll never get back out from under him.
The only way forward is to put your foot down.
“Mr. Fisk, I wouldn’t make you a black and white striped three-piece if you did chain me in a basement. You’re a spring, and I have standards.”
“Ma’am,” the officer warns, his partner standing nervously in the open doorway.
“What kind of professional would I be if I let you walk around looking like a mental asylum inmate? I’m doing you a favor!”
Richard brandishes another toothpick. “The customer is always right, sugar.”
It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid to taunt him and yell. Being insulted and diminished doesn’t make you want to be smart though; it makes you want to be right.
Your hands ball into fists of fear and rage. “It’s my name on the label,” you bark, “and I could just refund you to get you the hell out!”
Now you’ve really done it.
The boy gangster’s face twists and his oral fixation goes limp in disbelief. No one talks to Richard Fisk that way, least of all women.
His men step between both the cops and their boss, leaving Fisk himself to grab a solid wood tie box from the nearest counter and fling it at your face.
Your arms fly up to block it, but nothing ever connects, nor is there a crash behind you.
An officer’s voice wavers from across the room. “Uh, I’m sure this can all be worked out. No need to…start anything.”
You’re ashamed to say that your hands are shaking when they return to your sides and reveal an entirely different bulky blond.
Steve Rogers casually holds the caught box in his hands, staring daggers as he shifts squarely in front of you to block Fisk.
“This doesn’t concern you, Captain,” the bully grunts. “Piss off.”
Steve strides forward to replace the box neatly and plants himself inches from Fisk’s face.
“Can’t do that. She’s expecting me.” He turns back to you. “Ready?” Steve asks with a tight smile.
You swallow down one iota of your alarm and clear your throat.
“Yes—” the word cracks but you hope familiarity will scare off Fisk for now “—thank you, Steve.”
That seems to be Captain America’s cue to handle everyone else at odds in the storefront. By the time you get control of your trembling limbs, Steve has shown Fisk the door and promised the officers that you’ll be looked after.
Abby peeks out of the fitting room, surprised to see only Steve.
“Did they send you instead?”
She opens the door wider for Anja to see.
The redhead quirks an eyebrow. “Call the police more often, honey. They’ve upped their game.”
The now bashful, broad blond tilts his head, rogue hair falling across his face. His blue eyes sparkle beneath long lashes while he apologizes for lying, but you can’t for the life of you figure out why he’d feel guilty.
“I…” Steve stumbles. “I don’t have an appointment. I just wanted to see you.”
Currently estimating four parts to this grumbling into the ether but who knows. I clearly cannot be trusted to estimate length anymore...
[Next Part]
You can find more to read on my Main Masterlist! For readers under 18, please see the Light Masterlist which contains all-age-friendly works.
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#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers x reader#fashion designer!reader#threadbare#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers fic#steve rogers fluff#captain america fanfiction#captain america x reader#steve rogers x reader fluff#steve x reader#steve rogers reader insert
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