#is it sometimes the only way to get stubborn people to stop for a bit? perhaps | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angelwonie · 1 year

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X + Y = YOU AND I || jeon wonwoo

PAIRING: academic rival!wonwoo x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 8.6k

GENRE(S): smut, fluff, rivals to lovers, college au

SUMMARY: you wish jeon wonwoo would sometimes act like an insufferable prick instead of the perfect guy, because then you wouldn't have to feel your head spinning each time he looks at you.

WARNINGS: SMUT [unprotected sex, fingering, use of petnames (baby, good girl), praise, some degradation, sex in an empty classroom] wonwoo is so in love

Class discussions where both Wonwoo and you are involved never end well.

Partly, it’s because none of you possess the ability of backing down from a fight, but mostly it’s because of Wonwoo’s annoying tendencies of having read all the books in the world, which allows him to criticize every word that comes out of your mouth.

Which again leaves you with no choice but to get angry and argue even more vividly — though Soonyoung claims that’s just your own stubbornness making matters worse.

He doesn’t get it, though. The desire to beat Wonwoo at his own game each time he opens his mouth. It’s something you can’t entirely explain, but it keeps you grounded, and so you don’t question it too much. The adrenaline that comes along with it is enough for you.

And that’s exactly what keeps you going today — Wonwoo’s annoying takes on social anthropology.

“I just don’t think cultural differences are the root of conflicts.”

He says this and shrugs, eyes subconsciously drifting to the side to look at you. As expected, you’re already raising your hand to comment on his statement and he has to fight the urge to smile. Despite coming in tired, eyes drooping, you’re eager to partake in a discussion with him. Always. It’s a little too reassuring to think about, so he stops, and instead focuses on what you’re saying.

“That’s a baseless claim to make,” you scoff, and again, he feels his lip twitch, almost forming a smile. “Of course they are. No differences means nothing to fight about.”

“Yes, in theory,” he says, and his eyes crinkle with the smile he offers you. A smile you can’t seem to tell if is cocky or genuine. “But cultural differences aren't everything. If we don’t have culture, people will still form opinions. And those opinions will still become the roots of conflicts.”

With those words, he crosses his arms over his chest, his elbow bumping into you.

You’re not sure who came up with the idea of the two of you sitting together in the classroom, but moments like these make you want to find that person and rip their hair out. Because in what universe should you have to argue with Jeon Wonwoo while his shoulder is literally touching yours?

It’s stupid, unethical, and every other derogatory term you can come up with, but most of all, it’s making it hard to focus. Obviously, it’s not about him, it’s about the closeness itself. You think. Probably.

You lean a bit to your left so you can actually think of a response, but end up sighing and asking a question instead.

“So you’re saying conflicts are inevitable?”

He tongues his cheek – a sign that he’s in deep thought – and bumps his elbow into you again. An accident, probably, but it catches your attention nevertheless.

“I’m saying disagreements become conflicts because we can’t handle our emotions. It’s not differences that are the problem, it’s our way of handling them.”

And there it is — that twinkle in his eyes that signalizes he knows he’s won. You know it, too, from the way he leans back into his chair and your words die down in your throat and the professor nods his head approvingly. Still, you wish he wouldn’t be so fucking happy about it.

“Asshole,” you mumble only loud enough for him to hear as you sink back into the chair.

He chuckles and you feel your insides turn. God, he’s annoying. Super annoying.

Especially when he leans a bit to your side of the desk, face a lot closer to yours than it needs to be when he whispers, “Good job.”

You glare at his soft expression, your own face heating up in something resembling embarrassment.

“No need to gloat about your success, dickhead.”

“I’m not gloating,” he frowns, the smile slowly fading from his face.

“Sure you aren’t. You’re just kindly reminding me that you’re better than me.”

“That’s not what– That’s not true.”

His voice falters, and he leans back in his chair and taps his pen against the desk. You scoff at him, but it’s nowhere as threatening as you’d like it to be — thrown off by the quiver in his tone.

“It is true,” you whisper, more to yourself, and avert your gaze from him.

The professor picks up where he left off, and you let your thoughts scatter and eyes drift closed. It’s been a long day, you think. Thankfully, the professor’s got you and Wonwoo placed in the back, and so he doesn’t notice it when you manage to fall asleep in your chair, head falling to the side.

Wonwoo notices, though. Your cheek squished against your shoulder, hair in your face. It’s not the first time you’ve fallen asleep in class, and he should probably start scolding you for it, but seeing your under eye bags and hearing your tired voice makes something turn unpleasantly in his stomach. And so he lets you sleep.

(It’s all because of his perceptiveness.

You know about this trait of his, and it’s awful. How he hands you a pen when you’ve forgotten your own without you having to ask for it. How he knows when to shut up during an argument, because your face tells him he’s won. How he never feels the need to embarrass you, or anyone, for that matter.

He’s a good person in and out, and you hate him for it.)

It’s not before the class is nearing its end that Wonwoo decides to wake you.

“Y/N,” you feel a hand on your shoulder, shaking you awake, and then a deep voice hits your ears. Wonwoo’s voice, you realize instantly, and then criticize your heart for jumping at the thought. “You might wanna wake up for this.”

“Huh?”

Wonwoo’s smiling at you softly, and you sit up straight, confused. At least until you see your professor clutching his phone against his ear, muttering aggressively.

“His wife called,” Wonwoo explains in a hushed tone, leaning towards you so you hear him better. “I feel kinda bad for the guy. She doesn’t seem to like him very much.”

You rub your eyes and yawn, then realize Wonwoo is sitting right there, and clear your throat.

“Maybe he’s an asshole.”

“Maybe,” he turns to look at you. “Girls like assholes, though, don’t they?

Your breath hitches in your throat involuntarily. You’re not sure whether it’s from the question or from the way he’s looking at you – like he’s already got you all figured out – but it’s making you nervous. All of it, him. And now that you’re discussing a topic you’re not certain about, it shows.

You chuckle nervously, “Where’d you get that from?”

“You, mostly.”

“Excuse me?”

He offers you a smile, one that you subconsciously accept by feeling your insides turn to mush. This has got to be the longest you’ve spoken to him without mutual friends around, and without arguing. Truthfully, you don’t hate it. You’d never have thought that this would be the topic of your first ever civil conversation, though.

“Minghao? Seungkwan? Your type’s pretty obvious.”

“Do you spy on me or something?” you ask, a little baffled he knows the names of your previous boyfriends. You weren’t hiding it or anything, but Wonwoo’s never shown much interest in you outside of class. “Plus, that was months ago.”

He fixes his glasses and tilts his head to the side.

“Yeah? And what type of guys do you like now?”

You open your mouth to answer, but the words die down in your throat. Not assholes, you could say. He’s sparked your curiosity, though — what type of guys do you like now? Because you know for a fact that you’re done with assholes, which is why you’ve been trying your hardest to classify Wonwoo as one up until now.

“I–”

You’re saved from answering his question by your professor, who’s successfully hung up on his wife and is now announcing that class is over.

A sigh of relief escapes past your lips — another thing that doesn’t go unnoticed by Wonwoo, but he doesn’t push. He simply gathers his stuff, his pen that you borrowed included, and slings his bag over his shoulder. You smile at him, softly, a little hesitantly, because it feels right to do so.

His glasses rest at the tip of his nose as he stands up and says, “See you around, Y/N.”

Then, he walks off and you no longer fight the smile that makes its way to your face.

—

“Okay, so I think we all know why this meeting is being held.”

This is the first thing Soonyoung says as he sits down by the round table in the cafeteria, latte almost spilling out of his cup. You and Minjeong perch up in curiosity, and she puts her phone away in favor of commenting Soonyoung’s poor word choices.

“Meeting? It’s our lunch break, dude.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he rolls his eyes at Minjeong who snickers. “This lunch break is being held because–”

“–Because we need to eat?” you raise a brow.

“Y/N, you are literally in no position to act all smart right now. It’s you that we need to talk about.”

“Me?”

You look to Minjeong, but she only shrugs, meaning that this is a Soonyoung thing. You try racking your brain to find what the hell he might want to discuss, but nothing comes to you. Not even when Soonyoung offers you one of his signature smirks that signalize he’s up to no good.

“You, and hot nerd Jeon Wonwoo.”

Your mouth falls open in genuine shock. “Wonwoo?”

“Did you just call him ‘hot nerd’?” Minjeong slaps her hand over her mouth as she laughs, but stops when she sees you glaring at her. “Damn, okay, someone’s defensive.”

“Yes, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung leans over the table, hands together on the table like some sort of Hollywood detective. “What’s the deal with you and him?”

“What deal?” you look to the side for some help, but all Minjeong offers you is a smirk. She’s enjoying this a little too much for your liking. “Why are you looking at me like that? There’s no deal. We don’t get along, that’s all.”

“You sure looked like you got along yesterday,” Soonyoung giggles like a little schoolgirl, and you feel your face heating up. Of course he noticed, even though you barely talked with Wonwoo for three minutes. “Also, have you seen how he looks at you?”

“Like he wants to kill me?”

“Like he wants to kiss you. You’re mistaking passion for hate, babe. Or maybe you’re just pretending, because there’s no way you’re not seeing how cute you are together.”

“Me and Wonwoo?” you ask again, incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding. There’s no way.”

“You have to admit, he’s pretty hot,” Minjeong cuts in. “Plus, you guys have, like, undeniable chemistry.”

“The only chemistry me and him share is the class. Which already sucks enough.”

“You know what they say, denial is a river in egypt.”

“Nobody says that, Minjeong,” you glare at her, deciding that it’s better to get out of here before you start doubting yourself. “Anyway, I gotta go to class, so get those Wonwoo delusions out of your heads, okay? Because that’s what this is — delusion.”

“Funny you had to clarify that.”

“Just because you’re insufferable,” you send them a painfully fake smile and grab your things so you can walk away, almost missing the words Soonyoung mutters under his breath.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

—

Usually, you can’t be found in the university’s backyard ripping your hair, but usually, you also don’t fail your chemistry exams.

You might be acting a tad bit dramatic, running out of class and sitting down on the grass with your back pressed against the stone cold wall to cool off, but that’s something to worry about later. Right now you’re just focused on feeling sorry for yourself. Which you are. To a very high degree.

“Are you okay?”

You jump at the sudden intrusion to your self-wallowing, turning around only to be met with a familiar face. His glasses are high up on his nose and his hair is neat, smile lines nowhere to be seen.

“Wonwoo?” you ask, a bit embarrassed that he’s seeing you in this state, especially when he looks so put together. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I read here every free period,” he says, frowning. “It’s you that should be in class right now.”

“Do you have my schedule memorized or something?” you look at him accusingly, pulling your legs closer to your chest for comfort. “Anyway, I’m just sitting here.”

Wonwoo’s silent for a moment, pondering on what to do, and then he takes a step in your direction. You don’t run away or protest, so he takes another one and another one until he’s close enough to sink down on the grass next to you.

“You look more like you’re drowning in sadness.”

“Yeah, well, I failed an exam, so,” you say and hand him the paper your hands gripped just a moment ago — your test with every mistake highlighted in red. The whole sheet might’ve just been red at this point, you think.

He examines it, brows furrowed, then hands it back. “Chemistry? I thought you were good at that, though.”

Your heart falters in embarrassment.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. That’s why I’m fucking sad.”

You don’t mean for it to sound so angry, but it comes out harsh and bitter. It’s nothing like Wonwoo’s used to hearing you speak. And what comes after shocks him even more — the tears that well up in your eyes and then fall, he can see them even as you turn away from him, perhaps in fear of judgement.

“Wait,” he says, a little dumbfounded. “Are you crying?”

It’s a stupid question, but his tone isn’t judging. Still, it doesn't ease anything — you feel like you’re about to explode. And what’s worse is that he’s here, Jeon Wonwoo, of all people, watching you cry over something so miniscule that he probably can’t even relate to. You’re not sure why it bothers you so much that he’s seeing you in this state, but it does, it really does bother you, so much you feel like you might die.

“Yes, I’m crying, Wonwoo,” you say, wiping your cheeks to your best ability. “Jesus christ. I did badly on a test, so I already feel like shit, and then you always have to come up to me with those stupid comments of yours.”

He blinks in surprise from behind his glasses, and even through your bitterness, you think to yourself that he looks cute like that — confused, for the very first time. At least it’s the very first time you are seeing him like this. But, to be fair, this is his very first time seeing you like this, too.

“I thought you liked it when I'm mean to you, though,” he says finally, and you look at him in disbelief.

“Wonwoo, are you seriously just here to imply I have a degradation kink?”

He remains silent for a minute, hesitating.

“Great.”

You laugh through the tears that have now stopped falling, and Wonwoo exhales in something that resembles relief. His gaze is still set on you, unrelenting, like he’s still trying to put together the puzzle. Does he want to leave?

A part of you hopes he won’t. Because despite that it’s a bit embarrassing, you could use someone to talk to right now. Even if it’s just so you can get your frustration out somehow.

“What I’m trying to say is,” he starts, choosing his words carefully. “I didn't mean it like that. I never do.”

You meet his gaze – soft eyes that remain otherwise unreadable – and let out a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah, whatever.”

You kick one of the stones in front of you, and watch it bounce a couple of times before it settles a little further away. Wonwoo doesn’t leave, even though you’re giving no signs of continuing the conversation. He just sits there, shoulder a centimeter or two from yours, and listens to both your breaths. Both uneven — his is nervous, while yours is upset.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he says finally, catching you off guard just enough for you to turn in his direction again. “If I ever cross the line, tell me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He bites his lip awkwardly as you feel your heart dropping to your stomach. It’s silent for a while, the back of your throat burning — threatening that you might start crying again if you say something now.

He pushes his glasses further up his nose, and that’s when you decide to take the leap. Leap meaning that you lean forward to engulf him in a hug, your head coming to rest on his shoulder.

It catches him off guard, you can tell. His muscles tense, breath caught up in his throat and your own heart beats so fast you think you might die. But it feels nice, hugging him. And it feels even nicer when he wraps his arms around you, too, albeit hesitantly.

You stay like that, bathing in his scent – peach and jasmine with a hint of something you can’t quite identify – and somehow, you feel at peace. The test is still at the back of your head, obviously, bugging you, but it’s faint compared to Wonwoo and his hand that begins to slowly stroke your hair.

“Thank you.”

The words are whispered into the crook of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

They’re so quiet he barely hears them, might’ve mistaken them for a hiccup hadn’t he paid complete attention, but he is. He is paying attention. To how your muscles loosen up in his arms and there are no longer tears soaking through his shirt; how his own heart beats a little faster than usual; how he’s so painfully aware of the fact that talking to you only makes him like you more.

More meaning that he’s afraid he might be advancing from the useless crush he’d developed watching you argue with him during class. Advancing into uncharted territory that he’s never even intended exploring. Though he supposes he sabotaged himself by approaching you today.

“It’s nothing.”

But it’s a lie. It is something — the butterflies in your stomach or the warmth spreading across Wonwoo’s chest. Whatever you want to regard it as, it is something.

And that something settles in the very depths of your mind and his mind alike.

—

When Soonyoung announces that he’s bringing Wonwoo to come study with you and Minjeong in the library, your first instinct is to tell him you’re not coming.

Obviously, you’re embarrassed. And scared. And a million other things you can’t even begin to describe with words. He saw you crying, after all. Jeon Wonwoo, top of the class, saw you crying over a bad grade. It really doesn’t get much worse than that.

Still, you go. Mostly because you know staying at the dorm would spark questions from your nosy friends, but also because you don’t want Wonwoo thinking you’re avoiding him. Or else he’s going to think you care — which, essentially, you do. But he doesn’t have to know that.

“Do you think Wonwoo will laugh at me if I get the questions wrong?” Minjeong asks as you stand outside the door to the library, her hand on the handle.

“No,” you say. “He’s not like that.”

She opens the door, and you walk inside, met with the smell of books. Soonyoung and Wonwoo are sitting by the chess boards, talking, and you feel something turn in your stomach. Is it too late to leave now? Judging by Minjeong’s worried face, she isn’t so keen on being here either. Maybe you could both just go home.

Yet when she bites her lip and asks, “Are you sure?”, you can’t bring yourself to lie just so you won’t have to face him.

“Yeah. You should ask him to teach you if you don’t understand something, you know. Better to feel a little embarrassed than to fail an exam.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Just as she says this, Soonyoung catches your gaze and waves eagerly, urging you and Minjeong to come closer. He whispers something to Wonwoo, and he, too, turns to smile in your direction.

“Guess there’s no backing out now,” Minjeong giggles and you nod your head. There really isn’t.

The two of you make your way to the table where the boys are sitting and pick your chairs. Minjeong’s quick to sit next to Soonyoung, so you’re left with no other option but to plop down on the chair closest to Wonwoo. Normally, that would’ve only mildly annoyed you, but now, three days after he saw you bawling your eyes out, you can feel your heartbeat speed up vastly.

“Hey,” Wonwoo says and you almost jump. You’re not sure why, but you hadn’t expected him to speak to you first.

“Hi,” you reply and try smiling at him. Thankfully, he smiles, too. “What are you guys studying?”

“Chemistry,” he says, and upon seeing you wince, he’s quick to add, “‘Cause Soonyoung’s struggling with it. He asked me to teach him.”

You have to bite back a smile at his worried tone. “Ah, I see.”

He fixes his glasses, and clears his throat.

“It’s a really tricky subject, though, so I understand why you– uh, he, finds it troublesome.”

“Right,” you nod your head with a giggle, and you can almost feel Soonyoung’s stare burning into your side. It’s fine, though, because now, Wonwoo looks the slightest bit more relaxed.

You pull out your notebooks and textbook along with a coffee you’d made earlier, and when Wonwoo says your notes look pretty, you can’t help but grin. You kind of wish he weren’t so nice to you, but it doesn’t make you feel awkward, so you suppose you don’t have much room to complain.

It’s probably just reality catching up to you that’s making you nervous — the fact that he’s not so argumentative outside of class, and that you definitely felt something pull at the very bottom of your heart that day you failed the exam. That, and how the feeling isn’t giving any signs of leaving soon.

You let those thoughts wander as you start making notes, and soon enough, even Soonyoung goes quiet, occupied by his own stuff. It stays like that for a while, and at some point, Wonwoo’s knee bumps into yours. Warmth spreads all across you and you look at him.

“Sorry,” he whispers apologetically, retracting his leg, and the warmth subsides. In return you send him a smile in which you hope he can’t glimpse your slight – and unsettling – disappointment.

“It’s okay.”

And then it’s silent again, your body painfully aware of the fact that if you lean your leg a bit to the right you’ll touch Wonwoo. It’s not like you want to touch him, at least you don’t think you do, but the awareness is slightly nerve-wracking for some unknown reason. Everything about him is.

“Wonwoo,” Minjeong says, breaking the silence, making both his and your heads shoot up to look at her. “Y/N told me you could help me if I asked, so… I was wondering if you could explain biomolecules to me.”

“Of course.”

A quick smile flashes in your direction and then he’s leaning over the table to help Minjeong. His fingers follow the illustrations in her textbook and he starts talking — something about structure, you think. You listen intently, and it makes sense even though you’ve barely started the chapter, but you can’t bring yourself to take notes of what he’s saying. Can’t bring yourself to take your eyes off of him.

You wonder silently if he always was this handsome. You try to think of the times you spoke to him in class before, but it’s hard to recall his face in any other form than what your eyes meet now — focused gaze, lips moving to the rhythm of his voice. His glasses are slowly sliding down his nose, and you feel an immeasurable urge to push them up, but he beats you to it.

“Basically, they’re essential for cell division to happen,” he says, and you lean forward to look at the picture he’s pointing to.

Your shoulder bumps into his and he turns to the side. You notice, but don’t react in fear that you’ll just end up giggling like a schoolgirl. Instead, you pretend to read some of the text in the book.

Wonwoo picks up where he left off, voice a little hoarser than before, but you don’t move. Neither does he.

“Can you say that again?” you ask after he says something you don’t understand.

He repeats with his head turned in your direction, and your eyes drift down to his lips. You don’t want them to, it just happens, your stomach tying into a tight knot. You’re almost entirely sure nobody is supposed to look this hot while talking about biomolecules. Or was it morphogenesis? You honestly don’t know.

You don’t know why you feel like this with him of all people. Truly, there could be a lot of factors playing into it. The fact that he’s a smooth talker; the fact that he’s both intelligent and knowledgeable; the fact that you’ve grown to know him — what makes his blood boil and what makes him chuckle; the fact that he’s a constant in a sea of variables.

Maybe that last point especially. That even when everything else goes to hell, the moment you step into social anthropology class, he’s always there. Always willing to entertain you with, albeit sometimes pointless, banter.

You don’t even know what this is, though. Feeling your head spin when you look at him, having mini heart attacks when he says your name — are these the signs of you going insane? It could very well be that, you think. Insanity feels like the right word to explain your state right now.

“Y/N,” he says, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You listening?”

Your eyes drift back to his own, and you swear you see a glimpse of amusement playing in his gaze when you mumble a quiet “Yeah.”

Suddenly very aware of Soonyoung and Minjeong’s presence, as well as Wonwoo’s burning stare, you stand up, dusting off your clothes.

“I just need some fresh air,” you offer as an explanation.

“Mind if I join?”

You look at Wonwoo in disbelief as he asks the question. What the fuck? You don’t mind – at least in the sense that implies you don’t like his company – but it’s the same issue again; he makes you nervous. Goodbye to going for a relaxing walk, you suppose. And goodbye to whatever left there is of your sanity.

After what seems like hours of overthinking, you decide to get your shit together and send him a smile paired with a nod. Minjeong raises a brow in your direction, but doesn’t inquire further and internally you thank her for that. You’re not sure what you would’ve told her if she asked.

You and Wonwoo leave the library together, shoulders close together just like when you were sitting, and you swallow the lump in your throat.

“Everything okay?” he asks as you leave the building. “You seem a little dazed.”

The air is still cold, though winter is nearing its end and spring is slipping through the cracks. You pull your jacket closer to your body in hopes of both warming yourself up and slowing down your heartbeat, but it only fulfills one of those wishes, leaving you to deal with the latter yourself.

“I’m alright,” you respond with a soft smile. “Thank you for helping Minjeong, by the way. You’re a great teacher.”

Wonwoo’s smile lines shyly make an appearance. “Thanks. I’ve been thinking about becoming a real one, actually.”

You stop walking and turn your head in disbelief. Somehow, you didn’t expect that answer. Wonwoo was always a diligent student, but now that you come to think of it, he never really talked about his plans for the future, or what he wanted to do with his degree in chemical engineering.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” his cheeks redden ever so slightly. “Teaching chemistry honestly doesn’t sound that bad.”

You take a moment to think it through — him, in a suit and those glasses that fall down his nose, teaching kids about biomolecules. The idea is foreign, and yet, it fits just right.

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Professor Jeon, huh? It would suit you.”

He lets out a snort of laughter that sounds nothing like the small chuckles you’d hear from him during class. But it sounds nice, this loud laughter and you bathe in it for as long as it lasts. You’re starting to enjoy this whole ‘being kind to each other’ thing. Suits you better than yelling about something stupid in class. It suits him better, too.

Content with everything, you begin walking again and he follows suit. The grass is a little wet from yesterday’s rain and outgrown as it is, it tickles your ankles. It might’ve been mildly annoying if you weren’t so stupidly happy for whatever reason.

Whatever reason being Wonwoo, of course. You might be bad at chemistry, but you like to think you’re not dumb — at least not in an oblivious way. It’s become quite obvious, you think, that you like him.

The thought partly makes you want to kick your feet in the air and partly, it makes you want to rip your hair out. You like Wonwoo. It’s something so unexpected it makes you feel very bare as you stand there on the grass outside of your university, with your cold hands buried in the pockets of your jacket and Wonwoo’s eyes glimmering in the faint sunlight.

You like him. God, it feels weird to admit.

“About that day…” Wonwoo’s voice brings you back to reality, and you take a second to register what he’s saying.

“I freaked you out, didn’t I?” you ask.

“No, no, it’s not that,” he looks away and sighs softly, only to look directly at you the next second. “I just wanted to make sure you remember that one mistake doesn’t make you a failure. I should’ve said it earlier, but that day I was a bit… taken aback, I suppose. Not by the crying, obviously, but by the whole situation. And you.”

“Me,” you repeat, tasting the word on your tongue. Your heart starts beating a little faster, despite your best efforts at staying calm. He’s just talking after all; it’s not like this is some sort of love confession.

“Not in a bad way. Just in a new way,” he’s quick to assure you and you feel your heart swell in your chest.

“New. You make it sound so pretty.”

You laugh a bit, looking down on your hands. It. Does he even know what you mean? Does he know you’re talking about the fact that you’re slowly but surely starting to fall in love with him? Or is he just talking about seeing you vulnerable the other day?

“What would you call it?” he asks and you can’t stop your gaze from drifting back to him.

“I don’t know, confusing? And kind of insane.”

You swear his eyes drop to your lips for a mere second at that. He doesn’t say anything, just walks by you in silence, and it drives you crazy. You wish he’d say something – anything – just so you’d know if you’re even on the same page, but you don’t rush him.

Finally, he smiles at you.

“If insanity is losing control, then yes, I suppose I’m going insane. But it doesn’t feel all that insane to me.”

His eyes crinkle, soft streaks of sun painted across his face and you almost sigh. In delight, relief, or maybe fear, you’re not sure, but it’s those words, you think, that will linger. Those are the types of words to never abandon your mind, you’re sure of it.

“Did you rehearse this in front of the mirror or something?” you scoff at him, heart heavy in your chest.

He only laughs, and the sound stays in the air for a long time after you’ve left.

—

To say you were shocked to see Jeon Wonwoo sitting outside of his dorm with his head in his hands would be a major understatement.

You had grown closer to him in the past weeks — walking shoulder to shoulder around campus; him helping you with your homework — it all would’ve seemed unlikely had someone proposed the idea to you a month prior, but now, you had grown to truly enjoy his company. And he enjoyed yours, too.

In some ways, it stayed normal.

Comments and half-mean, half-endearing remarks remained untouched; what didn’t was your heart. It seems to be working against you at all times, beating too quickly when Wonwoo unexpectedly smiled in your direction, and dropping down to your stomach in fear whenever you saw him tippling over in emotion, only for the feeling to fade to the sound of his laugh.

This time, though, it doesn’t fade, only intensifies as you hear him curse under his breath.

“Wonwoo?” you try, and his shoulders tense ever so slightly.

You watch as he sighs, rubbing his eyes, then sits up straight, back against the wall. He doesn’t respond, even as his eyes, frail as ever, look into yours. They’re a bit darker than usual, and his lashes flutter as he blinks up at you.

There’s no one in the hallway, as if this part of the school emptied just to grant you a moment of privacy; a deciding moment, something in your stomach tells you.

“What’s happened?” you ask softly, quietly, unsure of what else to do with this obviously unhappy Jeon Wonwoo that’s sitting on the ground in front of you.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbles in response, leaning on his arms to stand up. “Just some school stuff.”

The corners of his mouth lift in a small smile, but you call his bullshit. You don’t necessarily doubt the genuinity of his smile, but the way he said it makes you think there is something that happened.

Taking a step in his direction, you nudge him with your elbow.

“What, the golden boy failed a test for the first time in his life?”

His eyes change at that — soft crinkles appearing at the very edges of them. His shoulders relax, too, and though it’s barely visible, you see it clearly. The air feels a lot lighter when he tongues his cheek and nudges you back.

“You sure run your mouth a lot, Y/N,” he grins and you feel butterflies flapping around in the very pits of your stomach. Then the smile fades to be replaced with a faux scolding look as he says, “I suggest you stop.”

You move to stand right in front of him, arms crossed over your chest. He’s taller, and you have to tilt your chin to look him right in the eyes as you giggle with a hint of playfulness in your gaze.

“Or what?”

He sees the smile playing on your face, the giddiness in your tone, and his heart bangs loudly against his chest. You look gorgeous today — well, that’s nothing new but it never ceases to amaze him how you can look prettier for each day that goes by.

Is this it? Is this when he’s supposed to make a move, like Soonyoung told him to? What does even ‘make a move’ mean, exactly?

He supposes it varies — just like the value of variables in the equations he solves so often.

Then how come he can’t solve this one?

You’re still standing there, looking at him without a care in the world, and he thinks that he’d never forgive himself if he screwed this up. At the same time, it doesn’t seem like you’re ready to run away from him, and so perhaps making a move doesn’t sound so stupid right now.

“Or,” he starts, and lets his eyes glide down to your lips for a moment to test the waters. You don’t scream in fear, and he takes it as a good sign. “I’m gonna have to make you.”

You giggle. “Yeah? And how exactly are you gonna do that, big boy?”

He feels his stomach turning upside down, squeezed by some invisible force and he has to remind himself to breathe. Is he really going through with this? Don’t start something you can’t end, Soonyoung would probably tell him. For once listening to his advice seems reasonable.

“Like this.”

And before he can even think of backing out, he brings the palms of his hands to cup your face and leans down, placing his lips against yours.

Taken aback, you let out a startled noise, eyes growing wide. He hesitates upon seeing your reaction, about to pull away when you finally kiss him back, tongue swiping over his lower lip ever so slightly.

A groan. Then, he’s bringing his hand to the back of your head and pulling you towards him, kissing you until your head starts to spin, and kissing you through that, too.

Your arms hold onto his shoulders for support, cheek leaning into his touch. Your noses touch clumsily; teeth clash when you open your mouth to let him explore it. Still, it feels like heaven and you can’t bring yourself to pull away for a breath.

Wonwoo, though, the more sensible one of you two, pulls back after a while, a smile on his lips and breath ragged.

You look at him — waiting for him to pick up where he left off, but he doesn’t move.

“That’s it?” you ask, and for a brief moment, all color drains from Wonwoo’s face. Did you not like it? Did he do something wrong?

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just going to leave me hanging like that?”

Your lip pulled between your teeth, you look at home expectantly, heart still hammering against your ribs. Truly, it’s not just about wanting more – though that plays a part in it, too – it’s also about whether this was a one-time-thing.

“Was it not enough for you?” he asks, tilting his head to the side after he’s calmed his racing heart.

“Considering I’ve been waiting for this, like, a month,” you say. “not really, no.”

He smiles down on you — that same smile that makes you weak in the knees, and you know there’s no turning back now. Not that there ever was.

“I think you’re a bit greedy,” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you shiver in anticipation. “I’ve been waiting for half a year, and yet, I still have some self control left.”

“I never had any in the first place.”

And with that, you pull him close for another kiss.

He doesn’t protest, opening his mouth and sucking on your tongue. His hands move down to your waist this time, pulling your body flush against his. You’ve never experienced being in such close proximity with him, and yet, you don’t feel all that nervous. It all slips away with his soft touches.

Your hands in his hair — it feels foreign, but he likes that feeling, gets drunk on it. But it’s some kind of reversed intoxication; he doesn’t feel faint; if anything, he’s feeling more sober than ever before as he bathes in your taste, your scent, you. This must be what love feels like, he thinks. This must be it, or else he’s certain he’ll never know love. If this isn’t it, he doesn’t want to know love.

He hopes you’re at least feeling a fraction of what he’s feeling as he pushes you gently against the wall, hands roaming your body. You do the same, holding onto him like he’s your lifeline, tugging at the strands of hair available to you.

So caught up in this feeling of bliss, you don’t even notice how you’re not alone with Wonwoo anymore until you hear laughter from a group of bypassing students.

“Get a room,” someone says and you pull away from Wonwoo immediately, face hot with embarrassment.

He doesn’t appear shaken, though — rather, you glimpse the shadow of a smile playing on his lips as he urges the students to leave. Just as you’re about to ask what he’s smiling about, his fingers close around your wrist and he pulls you along the hallway. He’s all rushed steps until you reach the nearest classroom that turns out to be empty, and he walks inside, dragging you with him.

Upon closing the door behind him, Wonwoo drags you into his chest. You look up at him, his inquiring gaze that asks for permission, and smile.

“Are you sure?” he asks and your grin turns teasing.

“Sure about what, Woo?”

He tongues his cheek, unsure of what to say. You’re just plain teasing him – that much is obvious – so he supposes he can give the same energy back.

“Sure that you want me to fuck you.”

You’re taken aback, though perhaps you shouldn’t be, considering how you set yourself up for this with your question. Still, your breath catches in your throat and your hand holds onto one of the nearby desks for stability as you face him. Wonwoo looks different now, to some extent; maybe it’s the lighting that gives his eyes a different glow, or maybe it’s how the air has suddenly become swollen with tension.

Whatever the cause, it excites you to no end, the way he’s looking at you when you take his hand in yours. Like you’re the only thing that matters.

“Yeah,” you say finally. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

At that, he pulls you impossibly closer. He takes off his glasses in a manner that you in a drunken state would’ve most likely called seductive, and throws them away somewhere you can’t see, too busy kissing him back when his lips crash into yours for the nth time today. He kisses you so hard it knocks the breath out of your lungs, and all thoughts out of your brain.

Mouth open, you let his tongue explore it and simultaneously, you allow him to walk you further into the classroom, until the back of your thighs hit one of the desks. Standing between your legs, he pushes your shirt up so his fingers can graze the bare skin underneath, and you sigh in content.

Before you know it, he’s pulling away to peel off your shirt and bra, leaving you bare in front of him.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to yours again.

You smile into the kiss, goosebumps spreading over your skin with the touches of his fingers that glide further up your thigh, until they slip under your skirt. Knuckles running over your soaked panties, he bites your lip and you let out a delighted moan.

“You’re so wet,” he comments as he slips a finger under your panties, running it through your folds. You can already feel another flood of arousal approaching just because of his words. “Won’t even need to prep you, huh?”

You desperately shake your head no, and he chuckles.

He lays his palm flat against your clit and you squirm until he retracts it. Playfulness in his gaze, he smears your arousal all over your cunt, ignoring your whines. This takes him at least half a minute before he finally – upon hearing you whimper his name in a way that makes his pants a whole lot tighter all of a sudden – gives in and slides one of his fingers into your pussy.

You throw your head back with a whimper, holding onto his shoulder as he starts pumping it in and out of you, noises caused by the movement filling the air.

“Oh my god,” you breathe as he adds another one, your cunt tightening around his digits endlessly.

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder which is an immense contrast to how he curls his fingers inside of you, hitting that one spot that makes your toes curl. He plunges his digits in and out of your hole as his thumb circles your clit, until you’re moaning loudly — despite how little time has really passed.

It’s in utter shock that you watch him retract his hand completely, sucking the arousal from his fingers with a smile.

“Wha–” is all you manage to say before he flips you over, bending you over the desk.

You’re painfully aware of how bare you are in front of him — your naked cunt on display, because your skirt doesn’t do much to cover anything at all, and your tits pressed against the wood of the desk. Plus the fact that the locked door won’t do much good if someone is to have class in this room next period. Which would be in about thirty minutes.

Not that you care. Or, essentially, you do care, but now it doesn’t really matter — besides, you’re certain that Wonwoo would’ve managed to come up with some sort of excuse had you been forced to open the door for some frustrated professor.

Amidst your thoughts, you almost fail to hear the sound of Wonwoo unclasping his belt. Almost. But when you do hear it, something turns pleasantly in your stomach.

“You gonna be good for me and stay quiet?” Wonwoo asks and you feel his hands move to hold your hips, cock positioned at your entrance.

You mumble something in affirmation, something you’re not even sure you can hear yourself, and spread your legs to urge him on. You feel his cock prod at your soaked cunt, run through your folds languidly; again and again, until you’re whining his name in protest.

He only chuckles at your behavior, and asks, albeit teasingly, “What did you say?”

Gathering your thoughts, you try your best to ignore the way he’s dragging his dick over your pussy, occasionally rubbing over your clit.

“Yes, I’ll be good for you, Wonwoo.”

Pleased with this response, he finally enters you — cock stretching you open and making you cry out, holding onto the desk for support. He’s big, you realize, tears prodding at your eyes as he bottoms out.

“Yeah? Gonna be my good girl?”

You nod and nod, fingers turning white from how you’re gripping the wooden desk once he starts moving — in languid strokes, he manages to turn your moans louder and louder.

His hands hold onto your hips, pushing them against him so you’re further impaled on his cock with each thrust, and you swear you feel him all the way in your stomach. It’s a good feeling, one you can barely register fully with the way your mind’s gone hazy.

You hardly notice it when one of his hands lets go of your hips and comes up to your lips, fingers tapping at your chin as a signal to open your mouth. When you do, he slips two digits inside and you suck on them obediently, tightening around his cock.

Wonwoo smiles.

“Thought I told you to be quiet, baby.”

In all honesty, he loves the nosies you’re making, but he can’t risk someone starting to bang on the door before he’s got you falling apart completely. Besides, the sight of you sucking on his fingers is just as pleasing; just as effective in making his cock twitch in your cunt.

Your walls suck him in perfectly, the sound of him gliding in and out of your pussy loud in the empty classroom. His thrusts grow gradually harder; the desk starts moving in rhythm with them, and you can’t help letting out moans and whimpers that his digits in your mouth do a poor job of concealing.

He realizes this, and decides on removing his fingers so they can grab at your hair instead, pulling your back closer to his chest. Your tits bounce with his movements, and he plays with them briefly, groaning as your pussy clamps down on him especially hard at that, but then his hand moves between your legs to tend to your clit.

He rubs it in circles, granting you an occasional pinch or slap that makes you cry out, and you feel the knot in your stomach grow tighter and tighter.

“Feels so good, Wonwoo,” you sob, tears streaming down your cheeks as his fingers abuse your swollen clit.

“I know, baby.”

Barely coherent, you beg him not to stop, and he wonders whatever even prompted you to think that he might want to stop. He only fucks into you harder, hand on your hips to steady the thrusts that bring you closer and closer to coming.

“Wonwoo,” you say. “So close.”

“Yeah? Gonna come for me, baby? Gonna come all over my cock like a slut?”

You nod, though he probably doesn't see, and he pulls you even closer, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sight in front of him. And to think he could’ve had this earlier had he taken the chance. You in the shortest skirt he’s ever seen, moaning his name like you don’t care if anyone hears — he honestly thinks he might be in heaven.

“Good girl,” he groans, and that’s what sends you over the edge, your pussy clamping down on his cock as you reach your orgasm. “Good fucking girl.”

He comes less than five seconds later, buried deep inside of you as his cum coats your walls. You whimper at the overstimulation of his last thrusts, collapsing on top of the desk when he pulls out.

He’s careful not to hurt you, but you still wince slightly, which prompts him to ask you if you’re okay.

“Never better,” you reply, and as soon as you say it, you realize it’s true.

Wonwoo smiles. He helps you clean up – repeatedly apologizing that he’s wiping you clean with the paper by the classroom sink, even though you tell him it’s fine – and puts his glasses on again. It kind of makes you wish he’d never taken them off, but there’s no way you’re telling him that. Your opinion about his beauty is something you’ll keep to yourself for now.

You get ready to leave just as someone knocks on the door, and Wonwoo opens it for a very flustered professor that tells you he’s sorry for interrupting. Wonwoo tries telling him it’s not like that – though it definitely is like that, and the blush coating his cheeks does nothing to hide it – and finally, you’re in the hallway, free.

“Poor guy,” you comment, a smile playing on your lips.

Wonwoo sighs. “Tell me about it. And here I was, thinking we’d gotten lucky.”

“I think we did get lucky, though.”

You say this without thinking it through, but from the way Wonwoo’s eyes light up, you’re glad you didn’t.

Suddenly, the doors to all classrooms in the hallway open and out come tired students, marking the start of the next period. Which you’re supposed to spend in biology.

You sigh, and Wonwoo seems to get it, because he tells you to leave for class.

“By the way, Y/N,” Wonwoo says just as you’re about to leave. Something in his gaze tells you this isn’t just a ‘by the way’ thing. “In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m really in love with you. And I’d like you to be my girlfriend.”

“Well, you’re in luck, mister,” you kiss his jaw with a grin. “Because it so happens that I’m in love with you, too. And I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

TAGLIST: @just-here-to-read-01 @syn-hhj @nikkell @dollyji

#wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #wonwoo x reader

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goldustwomun · 5 days

Text

bags (s.h.)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: you'd loved steve since you were fifteen, followed him wherever he went. so when you were finally over him, stumbling home with another man clinging to your side, why was he waiting by your doorstep?

warnings: (unedited) angst angst angst, best friend robin and nancy but also lovers <3 robin and nancy <3, swearing, drinking, clubbing/partying, self-deprecating thoughts and a stubborn reader, steve is kind of an asshole despair and dread lol, this went a route i hadn't expected but i'm feeling achey and sad tonight so :) enjoy :) and don't hate me!

wc: 2.2k+

note: i hope this isn't entirely ass lol i just want steve harrington to break my heart but like i cant put my ideas into words and its SO FRUSTRATING but whatever :’)

Can you see me? I'm waiting for the right time I can't read you, but if you want, the pleasure's all mine Can you see me using everything to hold back? I guess this could be worse Walkin' out the door with your bags

You should’ve known it’d end up this way. His back, coloured shades of blue and purple as dusk kissed at his skin, retreating into the distance and down the very road you’d just stumbled up only moments earlier. Maybe if you had listened a little closer, noticed a little more, the way he grabbed at your waist, squeezed your palms, held you close, you could’ve avoided it all. The shock and heartbreak and unbearable yearning only to turn up empty and desolate all over again.

Because you loved Steve Harrington, in more ways than he would ever know, but it had taken days, months, years, even, to get over that initial infatuation and belly flutter you’d been plagued with as teenagers. He was King Steve and you but a peasant, a shadow, one of many, that flocked to his side when he waved or smiled or tripped you up.

You loved Steve Harrington, but you hated him for waiting so long to work up the courage to just say it. I love you; I’ve always loved you, you wanted to say, but the words refused to pass the seal of your lips and instead you were left gaping at an empty spot on the ground, a Steve-shaped hole in your heart.

It’d been days since you’d seen him last, mourning his absence but refusing to sit around like you might’ve done if you were still seventeen. But no, you weren’t seventeen, you were a twenty-something independent that went out and did things and met people and kissed them if you wanted, maybe even take them home to your one-bedroom that would be otherwise empty without Steve plastered to your sofa, a hand stuffed into the popcorn you kept around because he once said he didn’t entirely hate it.

And that’s what you had done, convinced Nancy and Robin to leave the haze of their never-ending honeymoon phase to take you dancing. The drinks hadn’t stopped coming. Every time you gulped down a shot, another would be shoved into your hand before you’d had time to comprehend the reality of what you were going to do. To sleep with a stranger in the same space you’d watched Rocky with Steve only days earlier. You’d called and asked and begged him to come over, to join you, Nancy and Robin, but he’d bit at you in that way he sometimes did. The harsh edges of his teenage-self making itself known in ways you’d have liked to forget.

“Stop it, babes. I know what you’re doing,” Robin scolded, frowning at the dip between your brows and the lost look in your eyes. You forced a smile then, and she scoffed at the minimal effort you put into hiding your feelings, always having excelled at letting them take over your features even when you didn’t mean them to. Of course, every knew, everyone could see it in the way you trailed after him, like a lost puppy begging for an ounce of attention. Steve was cruel with the crumbs he handed you, but he didn’t know any better.

Everyone knew and everyone could see but Steve had always stood out, the most handsome, the most fit, the most clueless. And maybe that’s why you were perfect for each other because you hadn’t known either, had you.

“Come on, up you get!” Robin urged, pulling you from your chair with Nancy already clinging to her side, shuffling the three of you with what little sobriety she had left in her to the dance floor, pulsing lights and thrumming bodies none-the-wiser to the way you heart was cracking open.

So, you jumped and danced and bounced to the beat in ways you didn’t know you were capable of. Free and without regret and it wasn’t until someone was staring at you from across the room, watching your every moment with a fascination you’d never been subject to, that you stopped, pressing past Nancy and Robin with a tip of your head that assured them you’d be back.

He, whoever he was, surged into action, coming behind you at the bar where you were busy asking for a glass of water. You turned and smiled, stomach dipping, because he was attractive and strong, and he had these kind eyes and soft lips that looked like they’d be otherworldly against your skin. He introduced himself but the music obscured his words, so you nodded and pretended and wondered why you were dreading this conversation when it had only just begun.

He pulled you into a somewhat quieter corner after you’d gestured it was alright, and really, he seemed as surprised as you were when you all but pounced, mouth meeting his, open and desperate. He hadn’t complained, had probably seen it coming in the quiet desperation of your eyes. Of course, he didn’t know it was because of the way you wished it was someone else kissing you into the wall and not some all-consuming lust you were fueled by.

The next thing you knew you were huddled into the backseat of a cab, then stumbling across the gravel to your front door.

And that’s when you saw him. Sat on the bottom step of your apartment’s front door, gaze focused on the way whatever-his-name-was smirked into your neck, having probably thought you had stopped for a smooch and not because the man you had loved, unrequited, for close to a decade was staring at you like you’d stabbed him right in the chest, and twisted.

“Steve?” you whispered, loud enough to prompt Harrington off the step and marching across the short distance to you. “What are you—” but you never had a chance to ask him before he was swinging a left hook right into the guy’s jaw.

“Steve!” and you were shouting now, pushed to side as the stranger retaliated out of instinct, socking him in the nose. Steve looked like he was grinning, blood dripping into his mouth, like he was enjoying the feel of getting the shit beat out of him. “Stop it! Steve! I said—” you yanked him back, shoving him behind you as you rushed forward to-- fuck. You still don’t know his name.

“I’m sorry— Jesus Christ—” you swore when you noticed how his eye was already bruising as he shook you off. “I don’t know why he did that. I—I’m—"

His words were bitter when he responded, shooting daggers at the looming figure you were keenly aware was still behind you before meeting your pleading eyes. “It’s fine. It’s fine,” he assured you, squeezing your hip as he moved past you to leave. “You should talk to your boyfriend, you know, before you bring anyone else over.”

“I’m not—He’s not—” but he was gone, and you were still reeling from what had just happened, what Steve had just done. You turned, anger coursing through you so violently your hands were shaking. “Fucking hell—Steve! What the fuck are you doing here? And what the fuck was that?!”

“Were you going to fuck him?” he asked plainly, bluntly, shirt pulled to his face as he tried to stop the bleeding. There was still that wild look in his eyes, a flush to his skin, like he too was dazed and confused.

“What—I--- how is that any of your fucking business?” you answered back, shoving a finger against his chest. He was immovable though, only grabbed at your hand and held it until your palm was flat against the front of him. You could feel, now, the reckless thrum of his heartbeat, and you asked yourself how you’d gotten here in the first place, pushed up against a bloodied and bruised Steve Harrington.

“Just tell me. If I hadn’t been sat here, would you have fucked him?”

And you didn’t completely understand it, didn’t know what answer he was looking for—the one that was acquiesce him enough to explain himself or at the very least go inside and forget about all this ever happening—so instead you answered honestly. “Yes,” but your voice cracked at the end, so you snatched your hand back, cradling it to yourself like an injured bird you hoped to keep cocooned in your warm. You cleared your throat and tried again. “Yeah, I would have slept with him. And if it hadn’t been him, I would have found someone else.”

He nodded, looking as if he were pained but you were certain, now, it wasn’t because of the punch he’d taken to the face. “And if I had answered your call, met you there, got drunk and kissed you, would you have fucked me, too?”

You reeled at his words, feeling entirely as though you were the one in the midst of a fight. “Where is this coming from, Steve? Why are you saying these things to me?” you begged, pleaded, tired of whatever back-and-forth the two of you had gotten into the habit of.

“Look—” and he was determined now, steely gaze pinning you to the ground. His bruised knuckles brushed through his hair, scattering the strands across his forehead so that your fingers tingled with the urge to brush them out of his eyes like you’d always done. “—I should’ve said this ages ago. I just—I never could because it was never the right time, and I didn’t really see you in that way, not when I knew you did—” and really you wanted to stop him there, let the Earth swallow you whole and spit your bones out to be buried far from here. “I knew you had this—this thing for me but I ignored it but then we became friends and we—I mean, we watch movies, and we cuddle on the couch and sometimes I think I’d like to do that with you all the time and—

“Steve, please,” you whispered through the tears flooding past your irises, looking anywhere but at him, cheeks flushed with humiliation. He’d always had this tight grip around your heart and maybe he didn’t know that with every word he spoke that grip tightened, and tightened, and you were sure your heart was going to burst if he didn’t shut up right then.

“Just listen—I want to do those things with you always, sweetheart, I really do. I could’ve—I mean, I should’ve communicated my feelings earlier, I know I should have, but I didn’t want to lie to you. Not when you mean so much to me and I couldn’t give you what you wanted.” He looked at you then, expectantly, reaching forward to pull you into his embrace but you stumbled back, wanting out of the hold he had on you in more ways than one.

“Am I meant to thank you for looking at me differently now?” you bit out, exhaustion coating your syllables like rust on a nail.

His face fell as he stuttered over his own words. “I mean—no, sweetheart, no, of course not, I just thought—”

“You thought because I’m pathetic—because I’ve always been fucking pathetic to you—stumbling after you since high school that I’d just be, what, waiting for you? That I’d welcome your change of heart with open arms and gratitude?” you scoffed, gaze narrowed as you watched that wall of his build itself back up. Your ego was bruised and you were too stubborn to admit it, because you thought he had been clueless, and that thought had kept you safe all these years as you curled into his side every weekend.

“I don’t think that. I’ve never thought that” he cautioned, temper rising. If Steve Harrington was anything it was beautiful, and if he wasn’t beautiful, he was angry, stubborn, a pot ready to boil over.

“Come on, Steve. You said it yourself: I’ve had a thing for you since freshmen year. I followed you after we graduated, and I’ve followed you again, here, now. It took me years—fucking years—to get over it, to accept that I’d never be more than a friend, if that, and now, after you’ve been dodging me for days, you turn around and confess some sort of miracle feelings for me?” You were panting, out of breath from the way the words spilled out of you, thoughts you shouldn’t have kept to yourself all this time.

“Well what should I have done!” he roared, and a few curious lights blinked on from the building behind him. “Should I have not befriended you when you turned up to the same college? Should I have, instead, fucked you ten years ago when it would have meant nothing to me?” And you flinched at his words.

“You should have let me be, Steve,” you sighed, defeated. Because he was right, but you hated him for prodding at wounds you were still trying to heal. “You should have kept it to yourself and let me be.” But really what you wanted to say was you’ve been lying to Robin and Nancy because you weren’t over him. You loved him; you’d always love him, but you were afraid, if you told him the truth, that he’d slowly fade from your life until he wasn’t a part of it anymore.

He nodded, face slipping into that mask of his you’d dreaded seeing. “Right. Got it.”

He pushed past you, and you wanted to thank him for the slight brush of his skin against yours, but you kept quiet, like you always had.

as always, please comment and reblog if you enjoyed <3

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve x you #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #bags

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levenlike11 · 9 months

Text

a little lovesick satoru drabble after that horrible suna one, i really hope this is better.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"oh god, here he comes." shoko sighs as gojo is nearing you, geto following close behind. you look over your shoulder and quickly turn back when you see the white haired, extremely annoying male.

"y/n-channn!!" gojo sings and throws himself on you, giving you not an inch of space to breathe with how he pushes his head and hair on your nose.

"hello satoru," you push him but fail to make him move so you pull his hair.

"OUCH! why would you do that to meee!?" gojo whines and stands up, turning around to look at geto who's grinning, amused by the situation.

"don't laugh at me! i'm suffering here." he pouts and shoko lets out the laugh she had been holding in.

"it couldn't have possibly hurt that much. stop overreacting." you say which only seems to make him sadder.

"now you announce me a drama queen, how will my heart ever recover?" he raises his hand to cover his face dramatically, contradicting himself. he never misses to give you an oscar worthy acting, so talented they would hire him to play in a shakespeare theater if he applied.

"you'll be fine." you mutter and open your book again, mumbling a curse under your breath when you realise you lost the page you were on.

"see, now i have to go through all the book to find my page." you sigh but gojo doesn't seem to care, still busy whining about how rude you are towards him.

"you never act this way with shoko, or geto. he's much less handsome than me- no offense bro." he turns at geto, who doesn't seem to mind the comment enough to argue back. it's just gojo and his usual dramatic-ness after all.

"because shoko is my best friend and geto is a really nice guy, who is definitely more handsome than you by the way." satoru quite literally throws himself on the ground after hearing those words come out of your mouth.

"i'd rather die than hear those words again coming from the love of my life." he closes his eyes. he looks like the people playing dead to fool a bear.

"i told you to stop calling me that, and it's the truth, he's much much more handsome, and cool, and strong.." you start counting but gojo cuts you off.

"i'm gojo satoru, mind you! the one with six eyes and stuff you know. i'm literally the coolest and the strongest."

"this is why they don't like you back." shoko chuckles and you sigh, putting your book down again. he doesn't look like he'll let you read at all.

"gojo-" "satoru, please. i want my love to call me by my name." "i am not your love, satoru, please leave me alone. i already told you i don't like you." he has called you a sadist multiple times. even 'the cruelest person on earth'.

"you do, actually." he smirks, "you looooove me. how could you not?"

"i currently do not feel anything positive towards you. i might start hating you if you don't get up soon." you'd be surprised how quickly he gets up after that.

"no, please don't! we still have to marry and buy a house with pets and raise kids together-" he gets on his knees and hugs your legs in front of him.

"slow down satoru, we don't even date yet." you laugh at this antics. he's the most stubborn person you've ever met, dedicated to get you to like him romantically. it's not like you really hate him, you sometimes even think you might like him back. just a little bit. but it's fun seeing him like this, so desperate for you. (it makes you feel nice.)

"yet?!" he springs up, grinning from ear to ear. "so we might date in the future?"

"not if you keep doing this."

"what if i take you out to dinner?" you act like you're thinking about it.

"maybe if you also take me to the bookstore later and buy me ice cream."

"GETO, DID YOU HEAR Y/N? we might go on a date!" he jumps on geto, hugging him tight. shoko and you are practically dying of laughter at this point.

"get off of me." geto pushes him away but also smiling, seeing how excited satoru is and happy since two of his close friends are finally about to get together. he's also glad he doesn't have to suffer while watching these moments on first row with shoko. (they don't know it'll be much worse and annoying after you start dating though.)

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

☆ hope you enjoyed reading! please feel more than free to leave feedback and have a great day/night!🫶🏻

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ancientgoddessofegypt · 3 months

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ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT.8 PLANET PLACEMENTS 101

Aries Placements - Have the ability to drive anything into fruition. They can have a goal and see the plan through with an interesting amount of imagination and practicality in place. These aren't the type to sit down and 'wait' for things to come to them, they will simply be stubborn enough to do it themselves. Everything may not have gone as planned on the first go, but with time and stability they will come out greater and gain a sense of self-mastery in their craft.

Venus Placements - People with venusian aspects like sun/moon/rising have a gift that contains a higher amount of charm then most. These individuals can utilize their personalities in a way that will get them favored. Like their gemini friends, they can be a lil tricky to figure out. It is because they are able to use their beauty as a shield (as well as an illusion) to get what they want in life. It is only when they are self aware of this gift, they can use it to get whatever it is they desire.

Neptunian Placements - Neptunians have a gift in being the muse of creation. They are splendid in their craft of creating safe spaces for their imagination to dwell in. Whether its through art, fashion or just simply existing, like their aquarian buddies they have this gift of connecting to the stars way before everyone can catch up. They can come off a bit crazy to others, but in hindsight they are deeply aware of self and have a mass amount of empathy that allows them to read reality the way it is, and share that insight with the rest of the world.

Pluto Placements - Plutonians can undergo a lot of stress when they allow things to fester without bringing attention to the matter. These are the individuals to suffer in silence and by not saying a word they can cut out any forms of emotional support if they are not aware of themselves to escape the astro-cities that can sometimes be the danger of their own mind. (Moon/Pluto Placements - Outlets for your emotional expression is a necessity.) When there is no guidance for your emotions to thrive you will end up rageful and continuing to feel the lesser dense emotions hiding in your body. It will eventually way on you and it'll take a toll on your spirit. The power beneath this placement is to hold on tightly to that powerful entity you know is divine no matter what they tell you.

Plutonian Individuals may find themselves in the arms of people who are testifying their gifts right in front of you. Some wish to belittle and do harm to you because in the mirror they do not see the same light or dark power that you continue to see in yourself. So these people will always try to bite you to get a piece of it themselves, but in the end it never turns out the way they think. It turns sour.

Sun Placements - So I noticed the more sun placements an individual has, the more difficult this energy can be to surrender to. A person with sun/neptune may have a difficulty with expressing their empathic nature because the world isn't connected to their astral body like they are. When they express themselves, its like their connecting to their soul that feels out of the human experience. They have a different connection to the world then most, so they'll be often misunderstood. But in general, sun placements can feel a bit off in society because the world is always saying their cocky or arrogant when really they are free of the world and its restraints. Sun placements (no matter how big or small the aspect) have to deal with a lot of people taking themselves for granted. When they are sent to be a light, others are horrified by their shadows being shined on (sun/pluto). The more placements (especially conjunctions you have) the more you'll be tempted to stop the light since others will attempt to bring you down with them. It's a path that builds for a leader to take ship, not to dim down.

Uranian Placements - Ahead of their time but mostly because the world isn't ready for change. When these individuals get a hand on how society operates, they become powerhouses who are the tyrants ready for newness.These brainiacs are capable of being connected to the cosmos where receiving divine information on how to move and where to go gives them great benefit. They only thing I can say to them is, you have to be mindful of the company you keep. Because not everyone can see the vision. Do not allow any and everybody to take up space for whatever it is you claim as yours. Just because THEY can't see it doesn't mean its not real. Again, the things you see come through in your mind is a gift that the cosmic connections of space gave to you. You know the true concept of time more than anyone else, and with that you are able to gather up the right information, make your abilities/skills stronger than ever and than boom. The big bang. It all works in the end, dont force yourself to know everything. Just focus on the stars.

#astrology thoughts #astrology #astrology theories #tropical astrology #astrology observations #neptune #uranus #pluto #venus #aries #sun #moon #pluto moon #ARIES PLACEMENTS #astro thoughts #astro observations #astrology knowledge #deja's astro observations

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lady-ashfade · 2 months

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On Your Nerves

Day 18 of celebration marathon

Percy Jackson x Gn!Reader

-♡ ask: Percy jackson x reader enemies 2 lovers maybeee? Perhaps things get spilled after an injuryyy..?? up to you :)

-♡ words: 800

-♡ warnings: short, enemies to lovers, cursing, bloody wounds, fighting.

“Don’t touch it,” you hiss in pain and push away the hands that pressed down on your lower stomach. Of course for the fight you got paired with Percy, the most self centered boy you knew. Whenever you saw him you wanted to smack the smirk right off his face.

“Do you want to bleed out?” He snapped and his eyes looked down at you in a harsh glare. You leaned against a tree with your t-shirt slashed on the side with blood leaking on the material. Some asshole got a low hit and pushed underneath your armor.

“I’d be happy to if it means you’ll leave me be.” You roll your eyes and let out a groan as you move to take off the leather armor. Percy had to watch and try not to help you since you didn’t want him too.

His eyes turn away when you lifted up your shirt to expose the slightest bit of skin and felt his cheeks heating up. He hated you. You were rude, and hot headed. So why did you have to be so attractive when you hated his guts?

“Never seen a little skin before Jackson?” You chuckled and grabbed ahold of a little tin container from your pocket and pick up the gel from inside.

“Clearly not.”

He turned his gaze on you as you tease him but find himself look at your wound while you apply the gel on your cut. He hated the small pained noises you made while you bite your lip.

He never knew why you got under his skin, or why he got under yours. His body tightens when he’s around you and sometimes he can’t stand the sound of your voice. But now, seeing you hurt and in pain almost all of that leaves his body. So he watches as the slash on your side closes together and heals completely and the only thing lift is dried blood.

“All better. So you can stop looking at me like a kicked puppy,” you nagged him, “it’s weirding me out.” And there he was again. Back to being annoyed by you.

“What’s your problem with me?” He finally snapped. He had no reason as to why you could possibly hate him. You exhale through your nose and stand up on your feet. Maybe you could walk away from him without him chasing you like he always does.

“That’s a easy answer. It’s because you’re annoying.” You whip off your hands and pick up your weapon and walk away from him without a care in the world.

The son of Poseidon didn’t take that kindly and pushed himself on his feet and jogged behind you with anger in his chest.

“What did I do to annoy you so much?”

“Oh please, don’t acted so high and mighty.”

Percy grabbed hold of your wrist and pulled you back to a stop, then you swing around with fire in your eyes. He hated how beautiful you looked.

“Tell me what I did to make you hate me?” You both stood so close as your eyes stared into each others. There was a tension between you two and you couldn’t bare the feeling pulling you together.

“You never spared me a glance! You took my place in captured of the flag and didn’t even look at me. Then, when you needed my skills you acted all buddy buddy?” You use your other hand to point at his chest.

“All you do is use people, and I hate the way I fell for it.” You try and blink away the thoughts in your head or the dripping feeling in your stomach.

“That’s funny. Because I remember taking you to the infirmary that day you passed out when I hit you but you decided to hate me?” Percy continued to hold onto your wrist but his grip loosened with a new emotion in his eyes.

“You..” you whispered and take a deep breath in disbelief. “You took me to the infirmary..but Luke said-” the dark haired boy cut you off.

“And you think luke told the truth?” After everything he was right. Castellan lied to you often.

“I fell for your charm before that, you just were to stubborn for me to realize it.” Percy’s words make you swallow your doubts and hate for him. And suddenly his lips looked perfect as his eyes stare at yours.

“I might be a bit to blame.” You inch closer slowly.

Percy let go of your wrist and placed his hand on top of your hip. He couldn’t help but to curl his lips in a small smile before leaning in to kiss your sweet lips. It was shameful to admit but he realized he wanted to do this since he first saw you.

“Getting on your nerves was fun.”

Taglist: @maria699669 @purplerose291 @itzmeme @ravenmedows @repostingmyfavs

#percy jackson x you #older percy jackson #Percy Jackson x reader #percy jackson x fem!reader #percy jackson x male reader #percy jackson x gn!reader #older percy jackson x reader

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folkloresthings · 9 months

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seb + reader are in the car and they get in a fight. reader gets out of the car, it starts raining, and seb can’t find her and starts freaking out. when she finally gets home he’s super relieved and apologizes and they make up

vaguely inspired by the all too well tv (10 min vers.) music video but less toxicity 👍

BOILING POINT. ❨ sebastian vettel x reader ❩

the space between you had never been so tense. sebastian’s hands were gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, your nails nicking at the hem of your dress. it was almost dark out, and you were headed back from a fancy dinner with some of sebastian’s colleagues.

it was your first time meeting most of sebastian’s work friends. people higher up in red bull, bosses and executives and what not. you’d been nervous, but sebastian didn’t seem to think he needed to help ease your nerves. for the most part, you spent the night in the corner of the room, cradling a wine glass and making awkward small talk. sebastian was laughing and making jokes and brushed you off any time you tried to speak to him.

“so, you’re not speaking to me now either?” you mumble, hating the silence.

“you’re being dramatic,” sebastian sighs, head falling back against the headrest as he turns another corner.

“you barely said a word to me all night!” you exclaim, sitting up. you look over at him, his eyes fixed hard and cold on the road. “it was embarrassing!”

“i was working,” he hisses, glancing over at you briefly. “i didn’t have time to talk to you, because i had to impress those people if i want to keep my job. you know, the job that pays for your dresses and holidays and—”

“stop the car.”

sebastian looks over at you, cheeks red with frustration. “what?”

“i said, stop the car.” you can feel the tears stinging your eyes, sebastian’s words pulling at the wrong heartstring. he got like this sometimes, all hot and harsh, but he was never mean. not like that.

he laughs a little, under his breath, but pulls the car over anyway. he doesn’t expect you to actually get out, only to make your point and shout at him a little more and then go home. but you click the door open as soon as the car rolls to a halt and slam the door behind you.

“y/n!” he calls, rolling down the window. “get back in the car!”

you don’t listen, arms crossed and legs moving quickly. sebastian’s used to your stubbornness, and he’s still to caught up in his anger to apologise. “fine! i’ll meet you at home.”

about halfway there, the heavens open and it begins raining heavier than sebastian had anticipated. the rain seems to clear his thinking a little bit, turning the car around with a sharp sigh. he follows the exact same road he took, but you’re nowhere to be found. he tries some other back streets, and still nothing.

panic rises in him. you’re out there, somewhere, cold and wet and sad — and it’s all his fault.

thirty minutes of looking and no avail, sebastian heads back to the house in hopes of finding you. he could have cried when he sees you there, stood at the door, drenched. you spot the car pulling in, watching as sebastian switches off the ignition and climbs out.

“you’ve got the keys,” you tell him, justifying why you were simply stood on the doorstep. your cheeks are red and blotchy, eyes swollen from where you cried the whole way home. sebastian sighs, hurrying over to unlock the door and usher you both in.

“come on, take these off,” he’s quick to help you remove your coat, your shoes, every piece of clothing that’s soaked through. fetching you some pyjamas, he helps you put those on too. when you’re sat at the end of the bed, still not speaking, hair towelled dry and mascara staining under your eyes, sebastian caves.

“i’m sorry,” he mutters, kneeling between your legs. begging for forgiveness. “i should have been better tonight. i should have kept you by my side, showed you off. i shouldn’t have said all of that stuff — i’m an idiot.”

you sniffle, letting his hands wander over you, lips pressing apologetic kisses to your thighs, your stomach, your hands.

“i’ve got the perfect woman, and i act like a fool,” he admits, reaching up to brush your hair out of your face, kissing your cheeks. “i’m so sorry, liebe. you can hit me, if you want.”

it pulls a small smile from you, one he celebrates with a kiss to your lips. swiftly and easily does he lift you from under the arms, switching positions so he’s sat on the mattress, you on his lap.

“what can i do to make it up to you?” he gives you a suggestive smirk, fingers dipping under your waistband. “give me the word and i’m yours, baby.”

you can’t help but smile, shifting a little in his lap, pulling a small groan from your boyfriend. “hm. don’t think you deserve that tonight — but some hot chocolate would be lovely.”

he groans again, this time in despair, falling back into the mattress and taking you with him. you giggle, tucking your head in his neck as he attacks you with kisses. eventually giving up, leaving you to curl up under the duvet as he drags himself to the kitchen. when your hot chocolate comes, it’s a work of art, topped with cream and marshmallows and chocolate shavings.

“only the best for my love.”

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k!#🌙 ﹐ drabbles.#formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #sebastian vettel blurb #sebastian vettel drabble #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel x reader

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moonsaver · 2 months

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Consider... Dr. Ratio getting a (yandere?) crush on a student from a different department. Not one of his students. Meet-cute without his stone head on so the student doesn't know he's *that* professor. Poor student has no idea who their new friend is they're opening up to

My favorite request thus far! Im gonna try my best, anon.

I imagine it happens when student reader is running an errand and has to go to the different department for it, and Dr Ratio is someone they meet along the way in a bit of a secluded corner, tapping his foot and thinking deeply, maybe even saying things out loud to himself when student reader chimes in and asks about it. One thing leads to another and you actually end up getting along.

I imagine it happens again, once in a while, every two weeks or so, and Dr. Ratio doesn't quite introduce himself – he probably assumes as a student you're well aware of things, and just doesn't feel the need to, since both of you just talk enough to problem-solve and share opinions and facts. It only starts to dawn on him that you probably don't know him until you bring up one of your classmates who transferred departments talking about their professor with an alabastor head that has no mercy at all. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed as he contemplates whether he even wants to tell you.. but he likes the arrangement both of you have. It's enough that both of you are meeting like this, no? You don't need to know who he "really" is.

And by that time, he doesn't realise just how much he actually likes your company. You open up to him in a leisurely manner, and he's.. pleasantly surprised. Considering Dr. Ratio, I imagine he doesn't actually have people confiding in him, or talking to him normally, since his mind is constantly racing. This change of pace with someone who actually understands him is enough to keep his attention.

Of course, he needs to tone down his own prodding and pushing. Technically speaking, even "if" he's taken a "bit" of a liking to you, you're still not his student.. it's a pity.

He knows the exact classes you could thrive in, the course material he's sure you would devour, and the exact assignments he's recently sent out to his students that he knows you'd accomplish well. Sometimes during your conversations, he throws in a few topics and suggests that.. ahem, Dr. Ratio's course covers thoroughly. It feels weird to refer to himself in third person, but he adjusts naturally, and he has to stop himself from immediately getting on the defensive when you point out your own issues with his infamously rigorous course.

Of course, it has nothing to do with the fact he wants to see you more often, even if it means you'll recognize him as a professor with his alabastor head on instead of your new friend that's a bit eccentric. He would love having you as a student, just the potential you have is enough to excite him. The smile on your face after you solve a difficult problem, your rambling about the amount of homework your useless professors have drowned you with, the chirp in your voice as you call out to him in greeting, still unsure of what his name is.. surely, management won't say anything if Dr. Ratio himself takes matters into his own hands and transfer you into his department?

And when you turn up to his office, his alabastor head is on as he effortlessly shoots down any of your protests.

But.. if you continue being uncooperative, fine. Go back to your own department. It doesn't take much to sabotage, Veritas has learned. Just a bit of setting up is enough to ruin your assignments, destroy some of your projects, tarnish your reputation among your professors.. it's simple. Now, now.. instead of trying to problem-solve, why don't you just listen to that eccentric, strange friend of yours and join his department instead? He'll help you out thoroughly.

It doesn't take long after you've shifted departments, and you find out your strange new friend was your stubborn, unhearing professor.. now, it's a pity, but you'll have to stay after classes. Hm? No, no. He won't bother listening to you. You have a lot to cover, and now that he's not keeping any secrets from you, he wants to hear everything about you in thorough detail. Don't think about getting away, either. He'll talk with security and management to allow you to stay much further after hours. No one's willing to help you escape. Now.. there's so much material to cover, so let him teach you on a personal level. That should get you going more easily.

He decides on keeping his alabastor head aside, staring intently at you as you scribble away the mountains of assignments he's just given. You're not allowed to get distracted. If you even so much as lift your head to look aside from him, or your homework, he's quick to guide you by his fingers on your chin towards him, a scowl on his face. For goodness' sake, at least look at your professor if you want to stop writing. He's still your little friend, isn't he? How about you tell him all about that classmate you were getting so chummy with? Don't lie now – he saw everything. It doesn't matter that he's in a different department, it's better if he knows. You're both.. close,no? This is just something friends share with each other. Or do you need an extra lesson taught by him personally?

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geeky-politics-46 · 7 months

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Kinktober 2023 - Day 6

Sex Tape with Doctor Stephen Strange

"A Picture Is Worth 1000 Words"

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Summary: You are feeling self-concious & down on your appearance, but Stephen has an unconventional idea of how to make you realize how sexy & beautiful you really are.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - body image issues, voyeurism & exhibitionism via photo & video, dirty talk, swearing, pet names, oral sex, creampie, vaginal sex, slight daddy kink, a bit of fluff & a little angst.

You weren't even sure what had triggered your self-image issues at the moment. Honest to God, you were just sitting in bed watching a YouTube video, pursuing the sidebar recommended videos when you started comparing yourself to other people.

It didn't matter if it was just a random ad or a promo for a TV show. You started sizing yourself up to all the actresses, models, and even some normal people. No matter who it was, you felt you couldn't compare.

Your stomach was too big. Your butt was too small. You were too short. Too plain looking. Hell, sometimes you weren't even sure how you compared to average. You didn't think you were hideous, but you forever felt like the ugly duckling. Like the potential to be beautiful was there. It just never blossomed. Or, like you sabotaged being pretty by not having enough restraint to eat better or lose weight.

For once in your life, you wanted to be the bombshell. You were too weird to be the girl next door. You always fell into the quirky/cute and funny category. People fell for you once they got to know your personality, but you knew that never once had you stopped a guy dead in his tracks across the room.

In an effort to make yourself feel smaller, you dug around for your massive old sweatshirt. The one you wore whenever you were feeling sad. The material had piled up in places, and it was starting to get holes in others, but the super stretchy material still felt just as big and cozy as if it was brand new. The dark eggplant purple color was also somehow soothing compared to the mostly blacks and grays of your daily wardrobe.

You had settled back in, deep in your own thoughts, when your partner entered the bedroom. You had been with Doctor Stephen Strange for a while now. Long enough that you had more or less informally moved into the Sanctum. You got to spend more time with Stephen and didn't have to pay rent. It was a win-win. The only downside was that you couldn't hide from him when your inner demons reared up.

You didn't even realize he had been talking to you as he changed out of his sorcerer's robes and into his sweats for bed. It wasn't until he sat down in front of you and lifted your chin up to look directly at him that you realized you weren't paying any attention to a thing he was saying.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

You hated the genuine concern on his face. He spent his days literally saving the universe, and here you were trapped inside your own spiraling thoughts.

"Nothing is wrong."

You said it while staring down at your hands. You were never good at hiding things from Stephen when you were face to face.

"Even if I wasn't a brilliant doctor, MD, and PhD, I know that's your 'I'm sad' sweatshirt. So something is definitely wrong."

You closed your eyes and shook your head, trying to jiggle loose the thoughts that were waying you down. Not wanting to waste Stephen's time with your shallow worries. Yeah, he was your boyfriend, but he had plenty more vastly important things to do than talk you off a self-image cliff.

"It's stupid, Stephen."

"Don't care. You've listened to me say stupid stuff plenty of times. This just makes us one closer to even."

You rolled your eyes at him, and you knew he wasn't about to give up. Stephen was the most stubborn person you had ever met. In fact, his stubbornness was part of why he pursued you for so long before you finally agreed to go out with him. If he was set on finding out what was bothering you, nothing would stop him until you told him.

So after another moment of trying to get him off the topic, you finally relented and told him what had you feeling down. Shrinking down farther into your sweatshirt as you spoke, fumbling for the right words. Letting the cozy fabric serve as its own kind of armor.

"I don't even know what got me thinking it, but I'm just feeling down on myself. That there just isn't anything about me physically that is special. I don't think I'm ugly, I just don't get why you bothered to even give me a second glance. Let alone what keeps you interested. You are the great Doctor Strange. You are so hot, Stephen, and I'm just me. I'm just plain. I'm chubby with stretch marks. You are gorgeous. You could literally be with the most beautiful women in the world."

You could see him almost flinch when you called yourself plain and that you doubted how enamored he was with you. Even if he knew it was only a passing thought, he never wanted you to question his love for you. Ever.

When it took a few moments for him to say anything in response, you immediately started to take it all back. Not wanting to drag him down into your funk with you.

"See, I shouldn't have said anything, I'm just having a bad night and -"

Stephen cut you off with a passionate kiss. The kind of kiss that could make you forget your own name. Cupping your face in both of his hands before pulling away from your lips to place several more small kisses on your forehead and in your hairline. Gradually adjusting so he could pull you closer and wrap his arms tighter around you.

"First of all, I love you so much you don't even know. So don't think for one second I would rather be with anyone else. Second of all, I know that you don't necessarily see what I see when you look in the mirror, and you don't even have to believe me, but you are gorgeous. Do you not see that half the other guys practically trail you around like puppies? Rogers turns bright red when you smile at him, and it's a wonder Barnes and Wilson haven't followed you home like strays yet."

That made you laugh. You did know Steve had harbored a crush on you before you started dating Stephen. Tony had let that spill one night after a party. Both Sam and Bucky were such flirts all the time with everyone. Of course, they always acted sweet on you. You assumed it was just them or their way of being nice. You would have to pay better attention next time you saw them, though. Just to see.

"If one of them does follow me home, can I keep him?"

You squinted your eyes and pouted your lips at Stephen. You loved giving him a hard time, and he loved giving you one right back.

"Absolutely not. Even if they scratch and howl at the door all night long. I'm the only one who gets to keep strays, and that only applies to America. On a good day, maybe Parker."

You giggled and shook your head in agreement. America was definitely a great addition to your little family. It did lift your spirits a little thinking about all of that, but it still didn't leave you feeling better about yourself.

Stephen could see the way you were picking at the skin on your hands. Like you were trying to pick away the self-consciousness or what you felt were imperfections. It was a habit he noticed you fell into when you were extra hard on yourself. So, in an effort to distract you and stop you from picking at your skin, he took one of your hands in both of his.

"Do you remember the day you held my hand the first time? Do you have any idea how terrified I was? I was terrified that you were suddenly going to realize how broken and ugly my hands are. How damaged I am, and realize just how below your own league you were dating. Still are, by the way, so maybe I shouldn't say anything. You are the sexiest most beautiful woman I have ever met, inside and out. Every inch of you is incredible and perfect to me. I thought that before you even said a word to me, and getting to know you, and falling in love with you has only made me more sure. There is no one in this universe I could ever find sexier or more special."

"Tell you what, I have an idea..."

Stephen stood up from the bed, moving over to shut the bedroom door. Throwing the lock, too. Now that you had a teenager running about the Sanctum, it was better safe than sorry. Then, he pulled his phone from his pocket. Setting it on airplane mode as he walked back over to you.

"How about I show you what I see? Give you some actual physical proof of how beautiful you are? A picture is worth a thousand words. I imagine some more revealing, naughty photos would be worth even more."

You chuffed at him and raised a questioning brow at his suggestion.

"Stephen, are you seriously suggesting that I let you take naked photos of me as a way of making me feel better about myself? Are you sure that isn't just gonna make you feel better?"

His signature cheeky grin was plastered on his face, and his bright blue eyes were twinkling with mischief.

"Can't it do both? Besides, you know I've asked before for something I can enjoy when I can't have you with me, and I think you look perfect right now. Already in our bed. Already cozy and dressed for bed. Few layers to take off. This is the you I want to see when I'm not here with you."

He came over to where you were still sitting on the bed. An extra swagger in his step and a grin because of the blush you were now sporting. He started to pull teasingly at the hem of your sweatshirt with the hand he didn't have his phone in.

"Come on, take this off. I want you to see how sexy you are. I promise I will let you delete them if you want, although I certainly wouldn't mind keeping a couple for myself, but I want you to see how you look when it's just you and me. Right here, in this bed. The version of you that only I get to see, at least I do hope it's only me. A woman who puts all those supermodels and Playmates to shame. Even first thing in the morning. A goddess if one ever existed, even with bedhead and morning breath."

Layer by layer, you let Stephen slowly strip off your clothes and arrange you on the bed. His fingers and lips adoring every new inch of skin that he exposed before proceeding to take picture after picture. Lovingly caressing every spot you deemed less than perfect. Letting him talk you through pose after pose. Some were simple and basic, normal poses. Some a bit more sultry with little left to imagine. The less clothing remained, the more bold he got with your poses.

As your impromptu photoshoot went on, he also tried to distract you from feeling self-conscious about your body coming into view. Sometimes, by making you laugh. Sometimes, by getting a goofy look on his face as he just kind of stared at you. Almost awestruck.

"You really have no idea how much I fantasize about you, do you? How much of my day I spend trying not to think about you? How when we first started dating, I felt like a teenager trying to control his raging hormones because all I could think of was this. What it would be like if I got the privilege to get this beautiful, incredible woman naked in my bed. That I swore if I got you here, I would never let you leave. I hate that someone ever made you feel like you are anything less than gorgeous, whether in your ratty sad sweatshirt or all dressed up. Although, this, no clothes at all, is definitely my personal favorite."

You tried not to tear up at his genuine sweetness. You could feel your cheeks blushing at his statement, too. You buried your face into the pillow you were holding before softly turning and peeking out at him from the side. Only to find him waiting for the moment you locked eyes with him to take a photo.

In a sudden burst of confidence, you bit your bottom lip and rolled onto your back. Letting the entirety of your body be on display. Laying back and resting your head on the pillow and stretching your arms up overhead, your legs spreading on their own. You closed your eyes and arched your back as you inhaled deeply. Like you were a cat basking in the warmth of the sun.

Your mind was completely clear of all thought until you heard a stuttered breath from your lover. It was a sound you had never heard Stephen make before. It sounded like he was looking at a priceless piece of art or one of the seven wonders. He sounded like he was in awe. Like he was in awe at the sight of your body and your beauty.

You were about to dismiss his, what you were sure had to be, over embellished praise, but then you opened your eyes. You were rendered speechless by the look of utter wonder on his face as he let his cerulean blue eyes wash over every inch of you. For possibly the first time, you saw him really seeing you, and it melted any remaining self-doubt you had in that moment.

You immediately reached out to pull Stephen to you. Wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him sweetly. Rubbing your nose against his and whispering loving thanks against his lips.

"Thank you, Stephen. I love you, and even though I don't necessarily see what you see, you always make me feel beautiful. Why don't we take a few pictures together, or maybe a video or two? Maybe I want something for when you aren't here too."

Stephen's eyes darkened at the suggestion. You had your suspicion that Stephen had a bit of an exhibition kink. You had sent each other pics before, a short video clip or two, and sexted all the time. You knew the idea of filming the two of you fucking would intrigue him. A wicked smile found it's way to his face.

"Oh sweetheart, you have no idea how many times I've thought of you asking that or that I've thought of asking. Are you really okay with filming us fucking? Of course it's just for the two of us. Sorcerer's honor. "

Stephen started trying to fiddle with the phone, trying to figure out the best way to set it up to film the two of you. Finding it hard to concentrate after you started leaving kisses on his neck. Stopping to bite and suck at the spot just below his earlobe before continuing to whisper his darkest desires in his ear.

"Well, Stephen, actually the idea does get me a little hot. Maybe if the video turns out really good, a few seconds or minutes can get leaked to a naughty site or two. Anonymously, of course. I don't want to share you with any other woman, but I wouldn't mind showing off all the ways I worship you. Let everyone see how lucky I am. Maybe get some outside opinions of how we look together."

Stephen's eyes practically rolled back in his head at the thought. He never would suggest it himself, but he kind of loved the sound of that. Of the world getting to see how good the two of you looked together. Of seeing how well you both fit together. How your bodies were made for each other.

He scrambled off the bed using the pile of books on the dresser to create a tripod to set up the phone. Hitting record and making sure the bed was centered in the frame before coming back to join you in the sheets again. He used his magic to strip himself of his clothes. If you two were going to make a sex tape, he was gonna put some extra showmanship in it.

You couldn't help but giggle as you reach your arms out towards him. Stepben didn't waste a minute before he started crawling up your body. Teasing and nipping at your bare skin and making sure to snuggle and rub his goatee against you. Your hands immediately grabbed in his dark brown hair, loving how soft and full it felt in your fingers.

As your lips connected, you both groaned in pleasure. Your bodies grinding and rubbing. Letting your hands roam all over Stephen's body now that you had plenty of him to touch. You could feel Stephen's cock already erect between you. Truth be told, taking those photos of you had essentially acted as foreplay for him. He was ready to go by the time he was setting up the camera.

You moaned when you felt his hard shaft slide against the crease of your hip, so close to your sex that was starting to ache for him. Your legs reflexively spread even more on the large bed, and your nails scraped down Stephen's sides.

"Is there something you want, baby? Tell Daddy what you need."

A sly smile on his face as he spoke. Loud enough to make sure the camera heard. Descending back on you and starting to kiss your neck. Sucking a patch or skin into his mouth hard enough to ensure you would bear a mark the next day.

Your brain finally coming back into focus when he playfully bit the same sensitive spot. His bright blue eyes met yours, and he gave you a cheeky wink.

"Come on, pretty baby. Don't get all shy on me now. Not after you let me take all those naughty pictures of you. Plus, this part was your idea, after all. So you better speak up."

A soft groan pulled from your throat as you arched your back and ran your hands up his strong arms. Letting your fingernails scrape along his shoulders. Leaving little red scratches marking him as yours.

"Want you, Stephen. Want you to fuck me. Pretty please, Stephen. Fuck me like only you can, baby."

He rewarded you with a deep kiss, letting his teeth nip at your bottom lip before he started working his way down your neck. Stopping to whisper a "that's my good girl" in your ear before continuing down to your collarbones. Raising his voice once again so it would be audible on the video when he started speaking again.

"You know you are the only one I want to fuck right? This is the only body that gets me this fucking hard. Your's is the only pretty little pussy I dream about filling up every chance I get. Want you full of my cum all the time. Want everyone to know you're mine."

You felt over the moon as Stephen started to kiss his way down your body. Stopping and spending a little bit of extra attention every time he hit a spot that elicited a gasp or moan. Making you arch your back to give him access to every inch of bare skin you could.

He momentarily popped back up to kiss your lips. Suddenly taking your hand in his and lowering it so you were cupping his hard length. Letting his hips rut forward as you started to eagerly massage his hard cock. Already moving to sit up, anticipating taking him in your mouth, only for him to push you back down on the bed.

"Nope, I'm not done with you, baby, lay back. Just wanted you to feel how hard you got me. Feel how much taking those naughty photos of you turned me on? And they are all mine to enjoy, just like my cock is all yours to enjoy."

With that, he promptly began working his way back down your body. Coming to rest between your thighs, pulling your legs up over his shoulders. Leaving small nips on the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh and rubbing his facial hair against your skin to tease you.

A soft "Stephen, please!" escaped from your lips as you impatiently waited for his lips and tongue to work their magic on you. Feeling your hips thrust on their own when you felt him blow against your wet cunt. Making your sex flutter and clench. One of his favorite sights.

"Make sure you don't hold back any of those pretty noises darling, want to make sure everyone can hear. Look at the camera as I eat you out, baby."

You followed his instructions and let your head turn to the side. Keeping your eyes open as you stared into the lens. Trying to fight the inkling of self-consciousness tugging at the back of your mind.

Those thoughts vanished completely the moment you felt Stephen's warm tongue make its first pass through your folds. All you could focus on was the feeling of his mouth on you. The scratch of his goatee against your most sensitive spots. He was taking his time. Lavishing your cunt with long licks and sucking kisses.

Stephen was a perfectionist, and that translated into every aspect of his life. Including sex. His photographic memory helping to make sure he knew exactly what way to lick and suck at your pussy to bring you to climax in record time. Only using his fingers on occasion. He could get you there with his mouth alone. Tonight was clearly going to be one of those nights.

Your back arched as he suckled on your clit. Keeping your gaze locked on the camera lens. Making sure to give Stephen the sights and sounds he wanted for your video. A long moan falling when you felt his tongue thrusting in and out of you. Hitching your legs up higher and farther apart so he could go deeper while letting your hips start to rut against his face.

As soon as he could feel you getting close to orgasm, Stephen pulled away and pounced on you once again. Wasting no time before he started to slowly thrust his hard cock into you. His lips biting at your neck.

He growled when you whimpered at the feeling of his cock bottoming out inside you. Holding perfectly still and letting you start to squirm beneath him. Wanting you to beg him to move.

"Tell me what you want. Want you to say it again. Say it to the camera, sweetheart. Tell them why you're whimpering."

Your face now contorted into a pout as you tried so hard to get any sort of friction. Stephen's hips pushed flush to yours, holding you firmly in place.

"Want you to fuck me, Stephen. Need you to fuck me hard. Make me feel good, daddy. Please make me cum. Please."

He smiled and kissed you deeply. Bringing his hands to cup your face and giving you another moment of sweet intimacy before he gave you what you wanted. Pulling away and pulling your legs up over his shoulders. Scooting you just a little so the camera would be able to see his cock stretching and filling you. Once he had you right where he wanted you he began thrusting.

"You asked for it, sweetheart. You turn me on so fucking much. This is just gonna be the first time I make you cum tonight. I'm not gonna stop until you feel like a goddess. My goddess."

You reached up to intertwine you fingers with his as he started fucking you harder. Leaning forward so your ass was slightly lifted up off of the bed and his tip was pummeling that sweet spongy spot on your front wall. Making you clench around him each time he hit it. Your voice coming out in little squeaks and the sound of skin slapping punctuating Stephen's movements.

You could already feel your orgasm building when Stephen moved to bring one hand down to begin rubbing at your clit. Pulling his cock out long enough to smear some of your wetness on the swollen bundle of nerves. Your cunt immediately clenching around him as he started tracing small circles there with his thumb.

"That's it, my love. Can feel you getting close. You better cum soon because I'm not gonna be able to hold on much longer. Wanna fill you up every day. Mark you as mine. Inside and out. Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum."

Stephen's own dirty talk getting the best of him. His head dropping down to watch his cock slamming in and out of your drenched cunt. Your pussy gripping tight around him sending him over the edge. His thrusts getting faster and his fingers on your clit mirroring his hips.

He let out a deep groan as he started cumming inside you. The feeling of his warm thick cum filling you triggering your own orgasm. Your cunt drenching his cock and his cum filling you completely. Your moans mingling in harmony with Stephen's. Your hands that were still clasped gripping each other tighter.

Stephen's body falling onto yours and your lips meeting for slow, sweet kisses as your highs continued to ebb and flow. The sensations slowly fading as you came back down together. The feeling of Stephen's weight on top of you lulling you closer to sleep. All worries and neuroses disappearing and receding back into the depths of your mind.

You were with Stephen, and Stephen loved you exactly as you were. He only had eyes for you, and he would love you no matter what. Even on days when you couldn't see your beauty, you knew he would help you to see it. Even when you didn't love yourself, he would give you enough love for both of you.

Eventually, Stephen rolled to the side and pulled you with him. Settling you under the covers and holding you close. Pressing kisses all over your face as you floated in the twilight space between waking and sleep. Not moving or pulling away until your breath settled into a steady rhythm that told him you were close to sleep.

Then Stephen stood up and went over to the phone. Stopping the recording and bringing the phone back over to the bed. Setting it down on his nightstand and purposely not setting his usual morning alarm. He wanted to sleep in with you tomorrow. He would deal with Wong later.

You were too exhausted to review the products of your photoshoot right now, but the next time you were feeling down or self-conscious, Stephen would be ready to show you just how beautiful you really were. If you still didn't believe him, maybe he would bring up the idea of an outside opinion like you suggested. You would have the world drooling over you, and he would get to gloat that you were all his.

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

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j3llyd0nut · 30 days

Text

Calm husband x Assertive wife headcanons

DI!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

A/N: heavily inspired by safa and fahad’s relationship from dubai bling.

Leon with a wife who is a bit of a firecracker—she's got that bratty streak, a stubborn side, and isn't afraid to speak her mind. But beneath all that, she's also incredibly understanding, compassionate, and fiercely loyal (only to him and her loved ones).

After all he's been through, he's looking for someone who can keep him grounded, bring him back down to earth, or just take charge in the relationship. He wants to be pampered and taken care of.

Leon, who's all about going with the flow, has this "it is what it is" mindset, but you, his wife, are the one who calls the shots on his behalf. As Leon grew older, he stopped giving fucks except for his darling wife.

Take driving, for example. If someone cuts him off, he's the type to shrug it off. But you? You're the one with road rage, ready to give them a piece of your mind. And when his order gets messed up, he'll just eat it, but not you. You'll be marching up to the manager, making sure he gets what he paid for because, hey, it's all about getting your his money's worth.

"Sweetheart, it's fine, really," he said, offering a small smile.

"No, it's not. You specifically said no chilli. And what do they do? Add it in anyway. It's like they're gunning for you," you replied, clearly irritated and a tad dramatic. Poor white man can't handle his spice.

Sometimes you'd push the limit, and he'd have your back. But once you're home and out of the public eye, he'll give you a lecture about where you went wrong. It might take you a minute to actually hear him out because, let's face it, you're stubborn. But he's got his tricks to make sure you eventually listen, if you know what I mean.

People might raise eyebrows at your marriage because you two are total opposites. They whisper nonsense behind your back because of your straightforwardness and confidence, and that's something Leon doesn't let slide. That's when he gives a damn, because nobody gets to badmouth his wife.

"I heard Leon's wife is quite controlling. Poor guy can't even make a decision without her approval," someone remarked, their tone condescending.

"Excuse me," Leon quickly interjected. "Let me make one thing clear: my wife is not controlling. Decisions in our marriage are made together, as equals."

“And if I hear anyone disrespecting her again, there will be consequences. Understood?" His tone was firm as he addressed his subordinates with a hard gaze.

"Yes sir," the subordinates replied hastily, scrambling to return to their tasks.

This might have been the only instance he'd wield his authority as the top agent, but it was a line he wouldn't allow anyone to cross.

What really makes your relationship click is the mutual respect and understanding you both share, along with your shared drive and ambition. You get that his job can eat up a lot of his time, with weeks and even months away from home, and sure, it gets to you sometimes. But he's pretty good at making it up to you (material gestures and physical affection).

Leon really appreciates how you get his career demands, and he's all for you pursuing your own career path too. He'd rather see you doing your thing than stuck at home while he's away. However, if and when you decide to have children, he might lean towards the idea of you being a stay-at-home mom, though ultimately, he respects it's entirely your decision.

As for that tracker thing, it's not about being controlling; it's more about being protective. With him going on those risky missions, you like having a way to keep tabs on him and make sure he's safe. At first, he wasn't too keen on the idea, but when you explained how it eases your mind, he kinda got it. Plus, it's kinda fun to mess around with it sometimes, right?

“Hey, where'd you sneak off to earlier?" you asked with a mock sternness, tapping your foot as Leon entered the room. "Your little dot disappeared for a while there."

Leon raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "What are you talking about? I've been right here the whole time."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "Oh really? Because according to the tracker, you vanished into thin air."

A grin spread across Leon's face as he produced a cup of boba from behind his back, "I may have noticed a certain someone was feeling a bit down, so I thought I'd surprise her with her favourite pick-me-up.”

“Aw, Leon!” you exclaimed, jumping on him and nearly causing him to drop the boba and possibly break his back in the process.

#leon kennedy x reader #death island leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy headcanons #resident evil headcanons #death island leon #✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

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angelltheninth · 9 months

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On my way to send a prompt~ (Idia + Either "You need some sleep" or "Sleep is for the weak")

I don't know why Idia is so underrated compared to everyone else.

Pairing: Idia Shroud x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, kissing, cuddles, lack of sleep, mumbling, tired!Idia

A/N: Tired Idia will forever be cute and cuddly and grumpy.

Tired!Idia who is very cute, especially when he's tired and done with every one else but you, can even be bothered to talk to them at the end of the day, he wants to go home and he wants to be by himself. Well you can be there, but only if you're quiet.

Tired!Idia who doesn't stop working until the very late hours of the night or even early morning, not caring how blurry his vision gets as long as he can get things done at his own pace. When people rush him he gets cranky and more tired, which is why he often refuses to go to class and do his studies at home, it's when he's at his most productive.

Tired!Idia who starts to fall asleep on his desk while he does his homework. When you try to get him to go to sleep he won't budge an inch. If you want to cuddle with him that's more then fine with him, he's almost done anyways so he sees no point in stopping now, the work would just be there tomorrow.

Tired!Idia who almost always sleeps in class. He doesn't snore loudly so the teaches can give him a pass if he did everything he was supposed to. You always sit close to him so you can take notes and wake him up if you see the teacher getting annoyed at him.

Tired!Idia who loves to take a nap in his hoodie no matter how hot it is outside. He knows it might seem ridicules but he doesn't feel the hot or the cold like normal people do. His body is already burning hot, it's always at the optimal for him. Taking short power naps helps him stay away when he needs to, as long as he needs to.

Tired!Idia who will never go to bed when you try to drag him to bed. He knows his sleep schedule is messed up, he made it that way after all. When he does come to bed he always cuddles up against you and allows himself to get a few extra hours with you. He would never admit it but he sleeps so much better when you're by his side.

Tired!Idia who mumbles as you pull him from his desk and towards the bedroom. At some point his body does give in to the lack of sleep but his mind refuses to admit so. So he's complaining the whole way you walk him there but falling asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

Tired!Idia who kisses you every time he goes to bed. The kiss always wakes you up, just for a few moments to register him getting into bed with you. You kiss him back in the morning, many more times in fact which he doesn't get cause sometimes he doesn't even remember kissing you when he goes to bed.

Tired!Idia who smiles in his sleep when you kiss him. He rarely ever smiles when he's awake so there was a point where you took a picture of him smiling while he was sleeping to gush about how cute he was. He tried to have that picture deleted, saying how it ruins his image. Now its your phone wallpaper.

Tired!Idia who refuses to admit that he's tired to the point where he will force himself to stay awake longer just to prove his point. He never manages to stay awake for longer then a few hours no matter how stubborn he is. When he's at that stage you notice his flame dimming a bit, your sign to take him to bed no matter what.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #twisted wonderland imagine #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland fluff #twst fluff #idia imagie #idia headcanons #idia fluff #x reader

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strlingsav · 1 year

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Idek if you will see this but i been reading your work and its amazing!! You’re genuenly so talented in writing. but could you maybe do a fic on Ghost and y/n jus having a steamy makeout sesh, don’t matter the context or backstory but just to include a lot of kissing. 🫣🫣

Thank you! 🤍 I can definitely do this!! Steamy make-outs are underrated.

Alone

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— You're left alone with Johnny's friend Simon.

Johnny had offered to help you move over the weekend, offering Simon's help too, in exchange for a case of beer. You were happy to oblige, eager for the extra help and a chance to see Simon again.

Johnny talked a lot about him. It was a given; they worked so closely together, and near-death experiences could really bring people together. You'd grown to know Simon through Johnny, enough to find yourself attracted to the brooding man.

Aside from your developing crush, you were glad Johnny had someone watching his back. Someone that seemed reliable and trustworthy. It was part of the reason why you'd so quickly accepted Simon's help. The way Johnny spoke of him only had you even more intrigued. Every story he told let you piece Simon together, bit by bit. You were starting to take interest in the puzzle of a man.

He was quiet, not much of a talker and his humour was dry. Most people would be off-put by his demeanour, but you liked it. Being so close with Johnny meant that sometimes, a break from the incessant talking was nice. Enjoyable even.

"Just leave it there, I can take it to my room," You said, waving your hand to dismiss Johnny carrying a large box full of sheets and blankets.

"You sure?" He asked, his brow quirked as he lowered it.

"Yeah, yeah," You replied. "It's not heavy. Won't need it tonight anyways."

Johnny nodded, leaving the box on the floor before joining you at the kitchen island.

You handed him a beer, taking a sip of the one in your hand.

"Thanks again," You said.

"Not a problem. Simon's done most of the work anyways."

"I expected as much," You hid your grin.

"Y'can find someone else to move your shite then," He scowled, moving around to sit on the chair. "You like it here?"

"It's not bad. Roomy. Only a few minutes from work."

You sat on the sofa, curling your feet up under you.

"Aye," He nodded. "Better than the last."

Simon stepped out of the spare room, rolling his shoulders before settling beside you.

"'S'all moved in there," He said, lifting his arm to the back of the couch.

"Thanks," You smiled softly. "Let me grab you a beer."

You came back with a beer in hand, passing it to him before sitting back down.

"Cheers," He nodded.

You looked around the room, still cluttered with boxes and random items you'd have to find a home for. Your head fell back, groaning softly.

"I still have a ton of shit to do."

"Wish I could stay an' help," Johnny said, setting down his empty beer. "I've got myself a dinner with my maw. I can stop by after."

"It's alright. I'll stay up and get it done before Monday."

"Maybe Simon could help ya?" Johnny's eyes shifted to Simon, who swallowed a sip of beer.

You avoided Johnny's gaze, knowing he'd be staring at you as your cheeks flushed, suspecting something of your bashful reaction. He'd sensed the attraction between the two of you; you were both too stubborn and proud to admit it.

Simon breathed in, "No plans tonight. If you need the help-"

"You really don't have to," You insisted, your eyes locking with his.

"Don't mind."

Johnny watched the interaction with a small smirk, enjoying the discomfort he created. You sighed, turning to Johnny with wide eyes and an expression that read, 'I'm going to murder you'.

"That's really nice of you," You smiled. "I'll owe you one."

Johnny left not long after, leaving yourself and Simon to unpacking the many boxes left in your living room.

It was silent between the two of you, hardly satiated by the quiet sound of the music in the background. You glanced over every so often, amused by the sight of him hunched over on your floor, rummaging through a box of plates and cutlery.

"Thanks again." Your voice was louder than anticipated, shattering the silence. "For staying to help."

He looked up at you, expressionless, though his eyes softened.

"Not much to do when I'm home," He said. "Beer and company ain't bad."

You nodded- a small smile crawled over you face as you tried not to read too much into his simple statement. You turned back to the box, taking a soft breath in.

"Johnny talks about you a lot," You said.

"He's a good mate."

"Seems to think the same of you."

"You known each other long?"

"Since college."

Silence ascended again, busying yourself with tidying and unpacking.

You blew out a harsh breath, looking over the array of boxes, half-opened around the cluttered living room.

"Don't think this'll be done by Monday," You huffed. "Let's just call it."

Simon smiled, not enough that you'd noticed, but he was amused.

He'd accepted Johnny's offer in hopes of spending more time with you. He despised civilian life. He didn't know how to function in a world without gunfire or imminent death. Despite that, he was okay doing mind-numbing tasks if he could sit and talk to you.

Part of him knew he owed Johnny a thanks for giving the two of you time together, though the other wanted to kill him for putting him on the spot.

You stood up, Simon following, and your foot caught on the nearest box. Simon's hand reached out to steady you, grabbing hold of your bicep before you fell forward.

"Y'alright?"

You nodded. Though inside, you could swear there was a tidal wave of nerves igniting with heat at the touch of his hand.

You stepped around the box, grabbing another couple beers from the fridge.

You rested your back against the island, sipping slowly, your eyes following Simon as he stood across from you. Your fingers nervously tapped the bottle, rhythmic, soothing- it didn't seem to work.

"You- um," You spoke up again. "You like this music?"

He could tell you were grasping at straws, looking for anything to fill the awkward silence. He wasn't one for idle chatter, and he didn't mind the silence, but he could tell his presence had you on edge. He knew you were trying to cover up the nervous habits you had; chewing your lip, bouncing your knee.

"Not bad," He nodded.

"Do you like being in the army?"

He furrowed his brows at the sudden subject change, an amused smile forming across his lips.

"That what you really want to ask me? 'Bout my work?"

"Just making conversation," You shrugged.

"Yeah, it's alright," He tilted his head. "You always so nervous makin' conversation?" He'd struck a nerve; your eyes flashed to his, wide and unblinking.

"Not really," You smiled. "Not really sure how to talk to you," You breathed out.

"I make you nervous?" He set the beer down beside him, moving slowly, predator-like as he inched toward you.

"You make everyone nervous," You teased.

It was a pathetic reach for comfort, for something to ease the building tension in your stomach as he stood before you.

"Don't think that's the case here," His lips were parted, stillness in the air. "You have somethin' else you wanna ask me, sweetheart?" He had his hands planted on the counter, trapping you within the confines of his body.

Sweetheart. The word rolled off his tongue, soft, smooth- it nearly made you melt. Your jugular pounded in your throat- he was flirting with you.

"Do you want another beer?"

He chuckled, low and dry. His head shook, before his eyes landed on yours.

"Would y'let me kiss you?"

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, your heart threatening to jump out of your throat, palms tacky with sweat.

"Yes," You said, barely above a whisper, void of any tone, focused solely on his lips as he brought himself even closer.

His lips touched yours softly, hardly enough to feel, though it created sparks in your abdomen. He was gentle, creating a fleeting touch that made you chase after his lips when he pulled back.

Your eyes opened to find his, searching your face, appreciating the flush on your skin, the lust-filled glaze over your eyes.

He didn't hesitate this time, his lips making firm contact with yours, still apprehensive but savouring how good you felt against him. He let out a satisfied but restrained sigh, basking in the utter pleasure, while his hand mindlessly moved to your waist, delicately holding on, pulling you just a bit closer.

You had to crane your neck, nearly stand on your toes to reach him, your wobbly disposition worsening when forced to balance yourself.

He noticed, pulling away and lifting you swiftly onto the countertop. You parted your thighs, making room for his torso, accepting him closer than before.

Your lips reconnected, feverish and greedy as you devoured the bitterness and surprising softness on his lips. For an army man, he had miraculously smooth lips, addictive and warm.

His hand held onto your waist, the other resting on the top of your thigh, holding you close, aching for the feel of your body under his grip. They engulfed you, swallowed you whole, erased any other thoughts aside from the heat swarming inside you.

Your own hands had travelled around his shoulders, feeling the taught muscles surrounding his neck, your palms gliding up to lay against the nape of his neck. He was solid- strong and authoritative-it made your stomach churn with excitement.

Your tongue grazed his bottom lip, a teasing stroke that made his grip tighten. Your back arched into him, letting your tongue caress his lip until he reciprocated, gliding his against yours.

Like lighting a match, the sparks in your body lit up, creating a burn in your stomach.

His hand slid down past your hip, grabbing a handful of your ass as he pulled you off the counter to his hips. You inadvertently wrapped your legs around him, still moving your lips against his as he walked past the pile of boxes to lie you down on the couch.

He towered over you, removing the restrictive jacket he had on, his biceps flexing as he yanked them from the sleeves. Your gaze moved to see the tattoos covering his arms, the way his T-shirt fit so perfectly over his well-worked muscles.

He, in turn, had his eyes glued to you. Your hair splayed out on the pillow, your swollen lips now red with irritation, your eyes in the dim light of the room, how the baggy T-shirt you wore fell taught against your breasts when you breathed in. He could see the swell of your breasts, your perked nipples through the white fabric, and when you reached to grasp his shoulders, he felt heat travel to his groin.

His hands trailed from your hips, diving beneath your shirt to feel your smooth skin, the dip between your ribs. A bit further up, he ran teasing fingers over your breasts, eliciting a quiet gasp from your parted lips.

"Simon," You whispered, a fleeting announcement of pleasure that echoed in his head.

"Bloody hell," He said, low and guttural. "You been drivin' me mad, love."

You grinned, "That so?" You quipped, eager to learn more.

"Since I met you."

You hummed with satisfaction, sitting up to press your lips against his, to wrap your hand around his neck and pull him into you. He chuckled into your lips, his hand settling above you on the couch.

Your eyes drifted shut, toes curling with the feeling of his lips leaving soft kisses across your neck, before he reached your lips again.

He pushed his torso further between your thighs, unintentionally grinding his pelvis against yours. You moaned softly into his mouth, nipping at the plump flesh of his lip. He breathed out, his hips driving into yours, hitting just the right angle to grind against your clit. Your whimpers against his mouth had his cock hardening against you.

"I don't have any condoms," You said shyly, a blush creeping up your neck.

"Eager, are you?" He leaned in, his nose gently nudging your head aside so he could kiss the smooth skin of your neck. "'S'alright- rather take you out 'fore any o'that."

His body was flush with yours, lips connecting with unbroken ferventness. Your hands pulled against his shirt, forcing him into your body, holding him hostage.

"Y'make it real difficult to wait, sweetheart."

Your eyes brows crested, yearning for him, in his entirety.

"Sorry," You sighed. "Better take me to dinner soon."

A knock at your apartment door made your heads turn. It must've been Johnny, back from dinner.

"Open up, kid."

#cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod mwii #mwii #simon riley #strlingsavwrites #ghost x you #ask strlingsav #aloneseries

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melonmass · 4 months

Text

Here are some sad Trolls headcanons/scenarios that won't leave my head (I try to put them in a timeline order)

Floyd left expecting to come back eventually. What it took to leave BergenTown made him scared of coming back for a long while.

Since Indie sub-genres are basically all also sub-genres of other genres (Indie Pop, Indie Folk, etc) maybe there's a tribe of Indie trolls out there that are just a bunch of trolls descended from the other main six tribes. (I sometimes imagine Floyd spent a lot of time there in the 20+ years he was gone)

Clay used to scratch his arms/wrists when he was mad as a kid. They had him wear wristbands to help, and he actually loved the feeling of wearing them.

Floyd could stop any fight between his brothers by crying. This how he ended up known as "the sensitive one"

One of the bros tried to convince Branch John Dory was actually his dad. He cried, because he didn't want his bros to not be his bros anymore. John Dory was mad about this prank because of how upset it made Branch, and because he never wanted to replace their parents.

This "date" made Spruce feel so uncomfortable, he threw up when he got home. He pretended he was just sick, and John Dory never stopped apologizing for convincing him to go out while he was "sick." (image from Branch's clueboard, cleaned up by @kittyball23)

In general, I think the ages of BroZone at the time of the break-up were Young Adult, Teen, Preteen, Child, and Baby.

Grandma Rosiepuff geniunely expected the other bros to come back after a bit of time. They'd fought before, and they always made up.

Branch went gray not just because Grandma sacrificed herself for him, not just because he lost the only family of his that stayed. But also because he failed her. He failed to keep her safe. And he failed his brothers who trusted him to look after their grandma.

Creek was always manipulative and toxic af. During the big escape, his shoved Branch out of the way. (no one ever believed Branch when he said it was on purpose.

Someone helped Branch get back up and keep going so he wasn't left behind. He never got a good look at who it was. He used to imagine finding them and becoming a sort of found family with them.

It was Clay. He saw Creek shove another kid out of the way (obviously on purpose). But he didn't recognize who the gray troll kid was. He just quickly got the kid up and moving so he could go back and look for Branch and Grandma (this is how he ended up left behind with Viva and the Putt-Putt trolls).

People tried to look out for Branch while he was still a kid. But he liked to keep his distance, so they all did, too. They weren't ever able to help him get his color back, anyway. (Poppy was the only one who never gave up trying to help him)

Everyone kind of agreed to stop bringing up the trolls left behind around King Peppy (and in extension Poppy) because it's cause him to completely shut down. It looked like he might go gray, too.

Clay developed some self-destructive habits after arriving at the golf course. He thought he failed to save his baby brother. He was very good at keeping it hidden. Eventually he improved through sheer stubbornness. He keeps the old wristbands as a comfort, and to cover scars. (Literally no one but him knows)

John Dory interacted with a few other survivalists on the Neverglade Trail. Maybe he had an opportunity to "settle down" with one of them. But the guilt of leaving his brothers behind started eating him up, so he ran. (who knows, maybe he has a kid he doesn't know about)

When John Dory tried coming home, it was a few years after the escape from the Troll Tree. He saw it empty and thought it meant the Bergens had finally eaten every last troll. Maybe some of his brothers escaped. But the way he saw it, the younger the brother, the more likely they didn't make it. John Dory was convinced his baby brother was dead.

John Dory didn't have very much memorabilia when he first left. When he returned to the Troll Tree empty, he took as much stuff as he could carry without being scared of getting caught.

Bruce really wanted to invite his younger brothers to his wedding, but he didn't have a way to contact them. John Dory was the only one he had any way of reaching.

That postcard to John Dory was sent because he was desperate to reach out to ONE of his brothers, but he didn't want to have that reconciliation or fight at his wedding. So it's a mostly blank postcard. (John Dory cried, because it was confirmation one of his brothers was alive.)

Bruce named his daughter Rosie, after Grandma Rosiepuff. (he thought of naming some of his sons after his presumed dead younger brothers, but that felt wrong when he changed his own name to distance himself from them and the band)

Poppy might have briefly had a bit of a crush on Creek. This makes the betrayal all the more devastating.

At some point between the events of the first movie and Floyd getting captured, he crossed paths with Creek. They briefly had a fling, but eventually, Creek's toxicity became too much, and Floyd went left for someplace new. (And Creek might have been arrested in the Indie Mountains.)

None of the other troll tribes knew the Pop Trolls were annually being eaten alive for so many years. Some find their ability to keep so cheery and positive after all that to be actually impressive.

Peppy is doing therapy with Mr. Dinkles because the events of World Tour made him realize he doesn't have a good way of coping with things. (Running, hiding, and keeping secrets aren't actually good in the long run.)

Crimp experienced some major abuse from Velvet and Veneer. Yet she never tried leaving the job as their assistant because it was the only job she could get.

John Dory, Bruce, and Clay never expected to see Branch grown up. They didn't know how to react to/treat him like a grown up when they first saw him again.

Floyd genuinely thought he'd die in that bottle, even if the bros managed to hit the perfect family harmony. At that point, he was so drained, his hair was almost entirely white, and he couldn't even stand himself up. But the idea that the last thing he'd ever see would be his brothers singing and dancing together like old times made him happy.

The perfect family harmony undid most of the physical damage Floyd experienced. But he still feels a sort of phantom pains sometimes. His legs will feel numb and tingly. Stretching helps.

Velvet tried to completely throw her brother under the bus after they got arrested. She tried to blame him for everything, tried to claim she was forced to go along with it. Veneer's confession, Crimp's testimony, and just the way she slowly took more and more of the spotlight away from her brother kept her from getting her way. Veneer even got a lighter sentence than she did.

#dreamworks trolls #trolls brozone #trolls band together #trolls branch #trolls floyd #trolls john dory #trolls bruce #trolls clay #trolls poppy #trolls headcanons

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d1xonss · 3 months

Note

could i request a oneshot where daryl is sick and y/n wants to help take care of him? just super fluffy stuff? thanks😙😙

Chicken Soup for the Soul

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 9

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff

✧ Word Count : 2.1k

AN ~ This request is so cute to me :,( I had so much fun writing it. Not much to update on today, but thank you to whoever suggested this! Hope you enjoy!

Alexandria had always been a place full of safety and comfort. With living behind the thick, tall walls and having some of your favorite people living only a few houses away, you absolutely loved the community you were a part of. The only downside now, was the cold months only getting colder.

Every time without fail during this time of year, it would get much colder than what everyone was used to all the time. Normally it would constantly be warm, almost scorching some days because of how harshly the sun baked your skin. But in the first few weeks of the new year, it felt like it was constantly freezing. Granted the temperature usually lingered in the thirties, it was far more frigid than what everyone around here was normally used to.

Which was why currently you were cuddled up on the couch, a fluffy blanket covering your lap and a book in your hands, reading in the dim light of your living room. You occasionally felt the warmth of the fire next to you creep up to provide even more heat whilst you passed the time, waiting for your husband to return home.

He currently was out on a run that had lasted a few days, though he promised he would be home sometime today at the latest. You were a bit weary of him going out in the first place, warning him that this weather was cold and unpleasant, not wanting him to be miserable out there. But he brushed everything off as the typical stubborn man would do, assuring you that he would be just fine and he could handle it. And though you knew he could, it still didn’t stop you from worrying the littlest bit while he was out.

But a sigh of relief passed through your chest as you began to hear the faintness of the familiar rumble of his motorcycle, signaling he had finally returned as he made his way down the streets. A smile spread across your face as you finished up the page you were on, before finding your bookmark and placing it in the spine, setting it off to the side just as you heard the engine of the bike shut off in your driveway. It felt like only a few seconds passed before you finally heard the front door opening, his heavy footsteps trailing inside.

“Hi honey.” you called softly as you swung your legs over the side of the couch, standing up to peer around the corner at him.

He grunted as he removed all the things from around his shoulders, looking up at you with a soft and tired smile, “Hey.” he spoke quietly, trudging over towards your frame to practically melt around you.

Your smile stretched even wider than before as you held him, rubbing his back soothingly as you heard him exhale deeply in relaxation. Just by feeling his tense and sore muscles around you, it was clear to sense how tired he really was, it was even written all over his face. The two of you stayed in each others arms for minutes in just peaceful silence, taking each other in after being apart for far too long.

But according to Daryl, even an hour was too long to be away from you. Meaning these past three days must've have been torture.

“How was the trip?” you asked softly, your voice being the one to break the silence that surrounded you.

He sniffled and cleared his throat as he nodded to confirm everything went fine, “Good.” he spoke, “Gotta couple crates of supplies.”

You hummed, “That’s good to hear…I’m glad you’re home.” you admitted quietly as you held onto him a little bit tighter.

His deep and vibrating laugh shook in his chest as he instantly seemed to agree, “Me too, baby girl.” he said before finishing his sentence with another sniffle.

You paused for a moment as you heard the small and distinct sound for a second time. Now that you really thought about it, he felt a lot warmer to you than usual as you continued to stay wrapped around him. It might’ve just been you reading too much into things, but something seemed a little off.

So you reluctantly pulled away from him then, seeing in his eyes now that he was utterly exhausted, “You okay?”

He nodded slow as you saw him swallow a bit thickly, “Yeah, just…just tired.” he confirmed.

But you weren’t convinced. Before he could process your next moves, you quickly raised the back of your hand up to his forehead to check his temperature. He sighed in defeat as your hand already made contact with his skin, your eyes widening upon feeling Satan's hellfire burning your hand at the simple touch.

That may have been a little dramatic, but he felt quite warm.

“Honey, you’re burning up.” you said softly as your hand moved down to cradle the side of his face, “Are you sick?”

He scoffed as he opened his mouth to deny it, but instead, he quickly turned his face away and into his elbow to sneeze loudly, the sound practically bouncing off the walls.

Your eyes rolled, “So that’s a yes.”

“I ain’t sick.” he defended roughly as he turned back to face you again, “Maybe yer hand’s just cold.” he tried.

“Uh huh.” you muttered, “Then how do you explain the sniffles and that dramatic ass sneeze?” you asked with a tilted head.

He was silent for a long moment as his gaze stayed on the ground, trying to come up with a good reason other than the obvious. “Allergies?”

You scoffed, “You’re sick.” you concluded as you reached out to tilt his chin up so he would look you in the eye again, “Why don’t you head upstairs and hop in the shower. I’ll get you some medicine and I’ll make-”

“Nah, no, I’ll be just fine. Just need some rest is all.” he interrupted.

You couldn’t help but tilt your head at him a little as you silently knew why he was always so persistent about this kind of thing. Daryl always felt like he had to tough it out his whole life, act as if nothing phased him in the slightest as he carried nearly the weight of the world on his shoulders. The truth was it made him feel weak, asking others for help, having someone else take care of him, he felt he almost didn’t deserve it.

But you on the other hand knew that he deserved everything and more. Sometimes it just took some reassurance to get him there.

“Sweetie, you are constantly taking care of me. Just let me take care of you.” you spoke sweetly and gently, your tone being enough for him to nearly cave right then and there.

Though he still looked unsure for a few more seconds, not wanting you to go through any trouble as he was capable of taking care of himself. He never wanted to bombard you with his needs as he was perfectly content with giving you everything you wanted, pretty much constantly waiting on you hand and foot. But still to this day for some reason, it felt odd to him receiving the same treatment though you had been doing it for years. You alone felt almost unreal sometimes to him. Like a dream.

But then you whispered one word, one single word that caused him to break.

“Please?”

It didn’t matter when or how the word was used, but you and Daryl both knew that if you used that word to coax him into something he was prepared to deny, he would always fall apart instead. You had a certain effect on him that he still couldn’t quite describe.

So with that, he sighed heavily as he felt himself sniffle again, “Alright.” he agreed.

You smiled softly and gently grabbed one of his hands to place a kiss on the back of it, “Good. Head on upstairs and I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.” you promised.

His face broke out into a lopsided grin when he looked down at you, feeling a bit hazy from the illness he seemed to catch, his knees feeling weaker the longer he stood upright. Yet he still couldn’t help but smile at how unbelievably lucky he had gotten with you.

“Yes ma’am.” he eventually spoke, breaking away from you to slowly head up the long and dreaded staircase, preparing to head for the shower as you suggested.

You on the other hand went straight towards the kitchen, picking through the medicine cupboard before finding the right pill bottle to take up with you. After setting it down on the counter, you grabbed a larger pot and placed it over the stovetop, before rummaging around through the kitchen for ingredients. You planned to make him some chicken soup, one of his favorites when the weather got colder. He could probably inhale three bowls if given the chance.

You cut up the fresh vegetables along with the chicken, adding it all into the pot filled with broth to cook before adding the many noodles as well. You seasoned everything thoroughly and made sure to keep stirring it so it would be perfect, knowing he was probably starving from not only coming back from the long run, but from the sickness he picked up along the way. But once everything was done you placed it all on a tray to take up to your shared bedroom, even adding some water and crackers off to the side.

Stepping up the stairs slowly and carefully, you didn’t hear the water running and only assumed he was done by now as you entered the space carefully. And there he was lying in bed, his eyes closed until he heard the faintness of your movements, peaking them open again and seeing the amount of things you had brought up. It was written all over his face that he thought you did too much, but upon smelling the soup you continued to carry, he said nothing as if he suddenly remembered how hungry he really was.

He licked his lips as he eyed the tray, “Whatcha got?” he asked.

You laughed a little to yourself as you placed it down on his bedside table, “Well, the tylenol is for your fever, and the chicken soup is…for your soul.” you said proudly as you handed him the pill bottle first to take.

He huffed out a laugh, “Smells good.” he complimented as he took the medicine you provided for him along with a swig of water to wash them down.

You sat yourself at the edge of the bed, “Did the shower help at all?” you asked as you raised your hand again towards his forehead, still feeling very hot just as last time.

“A little.” he shrugged, “Still kinda warm though.”

You nodded to yourself as you noticed he was shirtless, the blankets wrapped only around his legs as the rest of him was exposed to the colder air. But you then got another idea that would help, telling him to wait momentarily before you trailed off back to the bathroom. You grabbed a washcloth out of the closet tucked away in the corner before running the material under some cool water, bringing it back to gently place on his forehead.

He sighed at the feeling as his eyes temporarily closed again, only opening once more to look towards you and the things you brought, “Ya did too much.” he commented quietly.

You tilted your head at him, “No I didn’t.” you insisted, “In fact, I didn’t do nearly enough. I want to take care of you, I always do. Please just let me from time to time…okay?”

His tired eyes stared at you for a long moment, before he was slowly nodding his head in agreement, “Okay.”

A smile was brought to your face knowing that it was getting to be easier for him to accept the help, before it was replaced with a teasing smirk as you eyed the soup he had yet to touch. “You want me to feed you?” you joked.

He scoffed, “Nah. Then ya would be doin too much.” he said before leaning over and grabbing the bowl himself.

You laughed a little before nodding your head, “Well, is there anything else you need? Anything at all?”

He didn’t hesitate as he spoke his next words clearly, “Just you…can ya stay with me?” he asked as if he didn’t already know the answer.

But he did, he knew the answer quite well. Though a part of him just wanted that last bit of reassurance that you wouldn’t leave his side, wanting to hear you say it.

“Of course.” you promised sweetly, leaning over the smallest bit to place a kiss on top of his head, “I’m not going anywhere.”

~ Thanks for reading!

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