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heart2beom · 1 year

Text

cliché

pairing: bsf!yeonjun x reader

genre: fluff, best friends to lovers, crack, little angst

synopsis: after yeonjun hears you referring to him as someone who's like a brother ...he tries his hardest to make you see him as a potential boyfriend.

or in which you're perplexed at all the movie hangouts your friend has been initiating.

warning: mature language, reader is assumed to be fem

notes: honestly, i always try to cut down the word count to make it more available for people who only read drabbles/blurbs but i just CANT. so here's another short oneshot T-T and as always, reblog to help the algorithm pick up on this :D

yeonjun was confused walking back home -- no, the whole day, he was disturbed. the reason for this was yesterday...when he went to get drinks for both you and him at a frat party.

the crowds were insanely hard to get through (and it didn't help that people kept on stopping him to 'catch up' or whatnot) so it took him more than fifty minutes to come back with the drinks he promised to get.

but it looked like it was too late because the people you were surrounding yourself with when yeonjun was there...disappeared. instead, you're bundled up, alone in a corner, with a guy he does not know. which was already weird because yeonjun knew everybody, and that was enough reason for him to hurry his ass up through sweaty frat drunks and make sure the unknown guy isn't some sleazeball.

that time he wasn't aware that he rolled his eyes but he did conciously plan to squeeze himself into the conversation...and technically cockblock.

but when he neared you...that's when his world shattered...on more dramatic terms. it was more like his confidence was shot down to the deepest depths of hell.

"oh, yeonjun? pfft, he's like a brother!"

even though it was almost barely audible due to the blasting music, 'brother' to his ears were magnified -- the word circling through his head.

brother. brother?!

and as a result of this baffling situation, he had backed himself in an opposing corner with your cup in his right and his cup in his left, way further than you now, thinking of where did it go wrong?

he's never had someone friend-zone him -- for heavensake, he's yeonjun, he's aware of how attractive he is. but brother-zone? that was even worse of an attack!

it doesn't matter that you said it -- come on, that's barely the case. it's the fact that someone was so unattracted to him that he was seen as a sibling.

sure, you and yeonjun were a sort of bunch that have been together since... forever, really. seriously, you were friends since elementary -- when you joined the school, fourth grade, mindlessly kicking rocks at recess he approached you like the social butterfly kid that he was, asking you if you wanted to come play with his friends.

once he took another sip of the red cup in his right hand, the fruity punch being way too overbearing (just how'd you like it), he furrowed his brows together.

he definitely doesn't see you as a sister.

he'd have to admit that when middle school hit and his puberty was acting up around ...the seventh grade? he was convinced that he would eventually marry you like the way his parents were. a brother wouldn't have felt that way about his sister! normally that is...

granted, he mostly blamed that on the first strikes of puberty because right after middle school, he moved on from the thought -- completely abandoning his pre-puberty dreams, but that was besides the point!

he was getting nauseous from the sweetness of his drink and the further he thought about the way you thought of him, he felt that he would ruin the party by vomiting on someone.

his night was officially ruined. absolutely, fundementally, literally ruined.

and thats how he found himself unfocused on everything around him the next day, finally making the decision to consult with his roommates about this frankly, very big conundrum.

"you can't just purposefully leave out important details? like, how am i supposed to diagnose you properly bro?" beomgyu asked as he spammed the keys on his controller.

"you're not diagnosing me--" yeonjun exhaled, wanting to to keep the banter to the minimum in respect to the issue he's facing. "literally what do you think we're doing right now?"

"i'm going to be completely honest and say ...i have no idea-- shit, what the fuck are you doing heeseung? jump! jump!" he yelled towards the big screen in front of him.

yeonjun groaned, turning his head to behind the couch. "soobin, it's not too late to help out your only friend!" he yelled out in hopes of it reaching the guy's bedroom.

and with no response, he turned back to watching the game beomgyu was playing. "god, you know how many times i gave that guy life changing advice on women?"

"and this is how he repays me?"

beomgyu nodded along to whatever yeonjun was mumbling about until the brunette magically connected dots and euphoric realization hit him. beomgyu almost scrambled around to completely face him this time, "hold on, hold on. yeonjun you lost me, are you having girl problems?"

to that, yeonjun rolled his eyes. "i wouldn't call it 'girl problems', that sounds like a problem soobin would have."

"uh-huh ...uh-huh. no, no yeah." beomgyu said nodding mindlessly to save the guy some face. "heeseung i'm logging off dude, yeonjuns got girl problems."

yeonjun just deadpanned to the back of the guys head, having no will to correct him.

he wanted to get the pending issue out of the way first.

it was more situated a few minutes later. instead of beomgyu sitting on the floor criss crossed, leaned on the couch yeonjun was sitting on, beomgyu was now sitting on the chair next to the couch, his elbows on his knees, brows deeply furrowed.

and not to forget yeonjun's pen and paper in hand.

"so... you're trying to get a girl to like you?"

"not like. i want her to see me as someone she would want as a boyfrie--" when he saw beomgyus brow raising up as to say 'whats the difference' he cleared his throat. "yea, basically."

"don't you know how to do that though?"

he shrugged, "it's different this time."

"how?"

"trust me, it's very different."

"okay but how?"

"you'd be the last person i'd ask for an interrogation beomgyu, that'd be a task for like... taehyun or something."

"i'm sorry that i need to understand my client first--"

"i am not your client" yeonjun said, rolling his eyes.

"what's going on here?", yeonjun turned his head to see soobin behind the kitchen island, scooping himself some icecream.

"dude, where were you when i needed you?", yeonjun asked.

"me and yj are holding a dating therapy session."

yeonjun turned his head to beomgyu, "again, it's not a therapy sessio--"

"you're getting dating advice from beomgyu?" soobin asked, his face scrunched up doubting if it really got this bad.

and back to soobin. "when you say it like that.." "soobin can you please leave yeonjun alone? he's in a very vulnerable state right now"

then beomgyu again. "i'm seriously going to beat you up." he said, biting his bottom lip and raising his fist against his roommate. beomgyu immediately jumps dramatically, shielding himself with his arms up.

"see? he's getting violent!"

soobin finally plopped on the couch next to yeonjun with his cup of icecream. "explain it to me, maybe i can help you out."

"i'll save you the trouble, he's not explaining for whatever reason--"

"a girl said that i'm like a brother to her." yeonjun reluctantly mumbled.

a wave of silence hit the dorm, for a minute yeonjun thought they just didn't hear him and to be completely honest, he was about to thank the gods because he regretted saying anything the moment he did, but that thought was immediately shot down when both sides of his ears were being blasted by humiliating laughter.

soobin got up, patting yeonjun's shoulder as reassurance, still laughing. "yeah, good luck with that hyung."

"okay, it's not even that bad--"

"dude, not even cha eunwoo would survive the sibling zone." beomgyu said, a hard reality check for yeonjun. "though hyunbin might.." he mumbled to himself. yeonjun caught it though, but it didn't matter. yeonjun was no hyunbin.

"fuck." he breathed out, the utensils he was holding had lesser grip on them as he just stared into nothingness. beomgyu was right. he's forever stuck as a brother in your eyes.

but then a ring of his phone snaps him out of it.

when he checks the id, his ambition is restored almost immediately for whatever reason; it was you.

"yo why are you smiling?", beomgyu said trying to peep at yeonjun's phone, but yeonjun reflexes took over, and he immediately turned his phone off.

"beomgyu, don't you think i kind of resemble hyunbin?" he said with a head tilt and an overconfident smirk, talking like he just had an epiphany.

"the one from crash landing on you? uh no."

yeonjun jumped from the couch a new man, his pen and paper in one hand and his ringing phone on the other. he finally faced beomgyu as the man he was, choi motherfucking yeonjun. "i gotta answer this call...and also, if you ask anybody who my celebrity doppelganger is, everyone would proudly say its hyunbin dumbass."

then yeonjun left with a smile and a surge of new confidence overtaking his face as he spoke away on the phone with you, while beomgyu was left in the living room more than confused as he looked up the actor on his phone.

instead of finding the difference, beomgyus brain was tasking him into finding the similarities...which, there was one to yeonjun's credit.

black hair.

"when are the others coming?" you asked looking around the crowded floor as yeonjun was buying popcorn and drinks. "the movies about to start.." you mumbled, checking your phone for the hundredth time.

"oh, i guess its just me and you again." he said with the popcorn and bottle of coke finally in his arms.

"again? don't you think this is getting suspicious?" you said as you walked alongside yeonjun, not noticing the way yeonjun just gulped.

you stopped in your tracks, in turn yeonjun bumping into your back a little, a few popcorns dropping on the floor.

"hey...you don't think.." you furrowed your brows, in deep thought. this has been on your mind for a while now. "you don't think they're trying to set us up or something do you?"

after the third time your friends stood you and yeonjun up, you were starting to think they were pushing, what they called, the 'ynjun' agenda..but it was the first time you'd ever bring it up to yeonjun, so you just laughed it off -- scolding your friends will come on a later date.

"nevermind, lets go inside the movie theatre jun."

"ya' y/n, wait."

you turned around to an awkward standing yeonjun at first, but he immediately straightens up and clears his throat, with a smile you've grown so attached to -- the smile that reached his eyes. for something so simple, it made your heart beat a little quicker than normal.

"can you hold the coke for a sec? i'm trynna--i'm trynna do something."

you break into a light laugh, "um, okay." that snapped you out of it because you remember who he was again -- your platonic best friend.

you took the cola bottle off his right arm, expecting him to take his phone out of his pocket to check something.

but as you stared at your sneakers, checking if they're untied, you felt his hand on top of your head, which startled you.

you looked up to meet yeonjuns eyes, a brow raised.

before you could say anything, he ruffled the top of your hair gently, leaning towards you a bit, to shorten the height difference.

"y/n, let this be our first date." your platonic best friend's voice, so warm and gentle you thought you would only hear in dreams, said those words...to you.

"so you asked her out on a date but you don't even like her...? that doesn't make any sense." soobin said, sitting on the couch watching beomgyu hog up the tv screen, his use time running out.

"bros an asshole..but i feel like we knew that already-- fuck you heeseung. you fucking suck ass you need to get off my team." beomgyu yelled.

"okay, first of all, it's not that bad. she doesn't like me at all, plus the date was how we would usually hung out anyway."

soobin just shook his head -- being the only guy with a functioning moral compass amongst the people he called his friends was exhausting.

as soon as he was about to lecture yeonjun, the tv timer goes off -- and that makes his plan a fleeting thought.

"it's my turn now, throw me the remote."

"bro give me a second, let me finish this gam--"

"no! unplug your console." soobin yelled impatiently, he knew better than to let beomgyu go over the timer again.

beomgyu groaned, abandoning heeseung in the game and unplugging his console. when soobin got control of the tv and opened up netflix, beomgyu stood up to sit next to yeonjun -- who had gotten a notification from you.

"yj, who's the chick? you never told us."

"uh, you don't really know her." he mindlessly answered, focused on the messages from you.

[y/n, 9:16 pm] that serenade ..as cringe as it was.. [y/n, 9:16 pm] like lets be serious, there was NO reason for u to get on top of the cafeteria table lol

he hadn't yet told his roommates what he did this morning, thinking that he'd get a longer lecture by soobin.

but he had took inspiration from the movie you guys were watching the other night at the cinema. you talked his ear off about how romantic it was, how you would fall at the feet of dicaprio if he did the same to you..

he was no dicaprio, but he could try is what he thought. and though you forced him to get down half way through, he could still enjoy sharing the laughter, your laughter, that was ringing in his ear.

[yeonjun, 9:17 pm] as cringe as it was...? you're in love w me ;)

he typed it as a joke, a smile tugging on his lips waiting for your reaction to his teasing.

but beomgyu hovered over his phone out of boredom again, and out of instinct yeonjun threw his phone -- the three chois looking at the phone on the floor in shock.

"bro, why are you being so secretive? were you sexting?" beomgyu yelled, accusatory.

"can we collectively have some decency in this house, jesus fucking christ beomgyu." soobin muttered.

"shut up church boy, yeonjun's hiding something for sure."

"or maybe he just wanted some privacy dude?" soobin retaliated.

yeonjun jumped up pointing at soobin, "exactly! exactly! listen to soobin, you were invading my personal space. so not cool beomgyu."

"yeah, okay. you've never agreed with me with this much enthusiasm before. he's hiding something. quick, check his phone." to soobins order, beomgyu was prepared to run to the phone when he made eye contact with the owner -- but yeonjun was quick.

"good god, wait wait. what do you want beomgyu--fuck, if you wanted her name it's y/n alright? the chick's y/n!" yeonjun doesn't do well under pressure, at all.

"what are you talking about--" beomgyu's face morphed into shock with his mouth agape. "--oh my fucking god. yeonjun, y/n's the chick? the one who brother zoned you?" beomgyu yelled.

"yeah...?" he said hesitantly.

"i can't--i just can't. soobin knock some sense into him." beomgyu turned away dramatically, shaking his head.

"yeonjun--" soobin started.

"dude, y/n has been in love with you for like a decade!" beomgyu blurted out, turning to face yeonjun again, interrupting soobin.

"uh..no? guys, i literally told you that she said she sees me as a brother. i saw her telling some guy that at the frat party last week."

beomgyu walked towards yeonjun, grabbing both of his shoulders, shaking him, "she. didn't. brother. zone. you. you stupid fuck!"

"she's been saying that to people because its so obvious that every time she tries moving on, she still likes you." soobin added in.

yeonjun, with his brows furrowed, tore beomgyu's hands off his shoulder -- walking towards his phone.

and it felt like a million thoughts were racing around his head the three seconds it took for him to get his phone, like a storm, a big tornado clouding his mind. but the most heavy was...how long? a fucking decade? and he never noticed?

he found it hard to swallow, almost nervous...that it was true.

the two other chois were staring at him, exchanging glances.

and when he picked up his phone, it was like he feared.

his text was left on read.

yeonjun's roommates were right for once.

all the secret glances he'd catch, a smirk twitching on his face as he pretended not to see, all the times you'd practically asked him out -- he shot it all down subconsciously thinking it was nothing more than coincidences on top of coincidences.

"you know, i was thinking it was weird you freaked out so much about the brother thing. yunjin told you that right to your face like last month and you didn't say anything." beomgyu said as he let himself fall on the couch.

beomgyu was right, he didn't care when yunjin said it.

yeonjun looked at beomgyu, eyes confused. "so...what are you trying to say?"

"maybe you feel the same way...? god, do i have to spell it out for you every single time?" he said dramatically, groaning.

"okay yeonjun. drama's over, go do your walk of shame to your room." soobin said, getting comfortable on the chair again to watch the premier of his show.

"and reflect!" beomgyu shouted out as yeonjun went over to his room, obeying soobin with his phone tight in hand.

"what are we watchin?" beomgyu finally asked, soobin giving him a side eye in response.

"we? beomgyu, i'm not watching another show premier with you again."

"just because my commentary is too good doesn't mean you have to get all jealous--"

yeonjun bursts out of his room through the narrow hallway that lead to the main door, a coat hanging on his right arm as he hurriedly slipped on his sneakers.

it startled both of the guys on the couch, looking over at him with brows raised: what is yeonjun doing?

no one could get a word in, not even beomgyu, before he was totally out of sight.

only adrenaline was rushing through his veins as he shut the door behind him, putting his arms through his padded coat, and sprinting to the elevator -- frantically spamming the button to make him falsely hope the elevator would reach his floor any faster

it wasn't like he had to do something in the ten minutes his head thought he had left, no, it was the realization that had him acting in urgency he never thought he'd have for a girl. all of his stupidity dawning on him -- for fucksake, of course it mattered that you said he was like a brother, it was you.

and as he ran out the building -- his head felt dizzy, not because it was overwhelmed with thoughts, no, this time he only had a few but those were harder to manage his head.

did he ever give up on you in middle school?

did he ever move on from you in highschool?

did he really dump a dream, you -- the dream he had as a boy, with all the other dreams he never thought would happen?

when yeonjun was finally in front of your family house, the one you still chose to live in through your college experience, he moved to where'd he guess the window of your room was.

"y/n?" he shouted out with all the energy he could muster up. he had to bend over his knee to catch his breath, because he would shout your name again.

again, and again, and again.

blood rushed up to his cheeks, not because of the cold, because he was embarrassed -- what if you weren't even here?

he waited, staring up at the window which showed no sign of your room light being on.

but he wouldn't give up, he'd have to try something else.

yeonjun looked down at his feet, the absence of the sun being harder on his vision. there were no rocks, the only thing visible to his eyes were branch sticks which only made him hope that his aim was good enough to get your window a few times.

it wasn't.

when the last stick that he found hit a window that wasn't the one he was trying to aim at - he cursed under his breath, defeated. yeonjun concluded that this was a bigger fail than the fucking time he found out that he was flirting at a family--not a class, reunion.

he could just go back to his dorm and call you is what he thought as he exhaled, a fog escaping his lips into the cold, feeling even more of a loser.

"yeonjun?!" he turned around at the familiar voice calling out for him and his eyes widened, lighting up as they set on your face, finally out of the window, with your room light making it a little easier for him to see your features.

"y/n?" he shouted back, ecstatic.

"what are you doing out here?", you shouted the words slowly so he could pick it up. then add, "it's fucking cold!"

"i just wanted to know" he inhaled, the cold air burning his nostrils, "why you didn't answer my text!"

it was silent, yeonjuns lips agape waiting for a response.

"you're fucking insane!" you said laughs slipping between your words, yeonjun scoffs lightly, a wide smile on his face.

he put his hands up as walls to his mouth to echo his words louder, "for you!" he shouted out in response.

"shut the fuck up!" it was a distant yell, one you both assumed, as you met eye contact, was y/n's neighbors. and then you laughed again at the untimely part of it all.

when you turned away from the window, yeonjun found himself yearningly waiting for you to come back. hands that were in his pockets felt a vibration -- his phone.

he took it out just to see a notification from his, quite frankly, favorite person ever.

[y/n, 10:26 pm] lets talk on here lol

he looked up and saw you at the window again, with you waving your phone at him -- it earned a smile tugging once more, on the ends of his lips.

just how did he manage to ignore overwhelming feelings about you, of you, for the past decade?

[yeonjun, 10:27 pm] come down. i'm not gonna tell u this thru text [y/n, 10:27 pm] why not? [yeonjun, 10:27 pm] don't wanna [y/n, 10:28 pm] youre asking me to get out of my cozy ass room just bcs u dont wanna??

"yeah! basically dumbass!" he shouted, startling your poor self out of your focus on your phone. you glared at him, yeonjun most likely missing it.

[y/n, 10:28 pm] STOP DONT DO THAT THOSE PSYCHOS ARE GOING TO CALL THE COPS ON ME [yeonjun, 10:29 pm] ok then come down before i freeze my fingers off

when you slid your window closed, closing your curtains, he immediately turned to quickly run towards the front of your house. yeonjun leaned on the fence of your porch, smiling with thoughts of you clouding his mind, as he looked up at the moon.

it was all so cliché -- the type of scene his roommates would squeal over and one that he would roll his eyes to, but if he were to watch this part of his life, again and again -- the moment you opened the door, the moment you both exchanged looks that communicated 'we feel the same way don't we?', a short awkward laugh that was shared, the moment you hesitantly opened your mouth to say something -- and then, the final moment of his longing lips crashing onto yours, his cold hands warming up the moment he cupped your face, the repocracy from your side making him smile into the kiss, the euphoric realisation that he wasn't late, you didn't stop loving him yet, and when he cut the kiss short, both your lips barely apart, yeonjun whispered an i love you, and to it you smiled, pulling him into your house, to finish your kiss -- he would too, squeal over the scene, kicking his feet like a highschool girl.

ending a/n: YOU FINISHED IT YAY :D yeonjun was lowk an asshole for wanting to lead on mc at first for his own benefit, but hes such a cutie im sorry, its easy to forgive T-T let me know what you feel about this piece, it was so fun to write!!

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rafeandonlyrafe · 3 months

Text

under the influence

words: 1.4k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, blowjob, dubcon, blackmail, mentions of forced sex, throwing up, drunk!reader

your head pounds as you stumble towards whatever light source is in front of you. your vision is glazed over, only amplified from how tired you are.

“y/n?” a voice calls out.

you open your mouth to respond but your feet trip over a crack on the sidewalk and you fall forward, barely catching yourself with your hands.

“ah, shit.” rafe groans, rushing over to check on you. he turns you over so your back is now against the pavement. “what happened to you?” “was at a party.” you manage to get out before turning your head and throwing up. rafe gathers your hair for you as you vomit onto the sidewalk. “got really drunk.” you say when you finish, spitting to get the taste out of your mouth.

“yeah, i can tell.” rafe scoffs. “want me to take you home?” “no-” you shake your head, looking up at rafe with tears in your eyes. “my parents would kill me if they found out.” your mind reels, tears suddenly falling which quickly turns into sobs.

“hey, hey, shh.” rafe tries to comfort you, his hand coming to rub over your shoulder. “shit, shut up. you can stay at tanneyhill.” “really?” you squeal, mood instantly turning around, a smile replacing your frown.

“yeah just… just get up, come on.” rafe helps you stand up, annoyed that you're ruining his plans for the night, but not wanting to leave you out here to fend for yourself.

you know rafe mostly through your families, both being prominent members in the outer banks. you've grown up around each other, and while you’ve been kind of flirty in the past, in never progressed into anything.

rafe loops an arm around your waist, helping you walk towards his house. rafe had planned to walk to a party, probably the same one you're leaving from, before he came across you.

“are your parents home?” you ask, knowing that you'll have to sneak past them, as they will definitely tell your parents if they saw how obviously wasted you are.

“no. it's just me at home. ward, rose and wheezie are gone for the weekend and sarah is who knows where.” rafe rolls his eyes at even having to mention his sister.

“probably john bs.” you comment, before throwing out a snide remark. “dirty pogue.”

it makes rafe smile, remembering that you harbor the same feelings towards the other side of the island that he does.

rafe leads you inside his house before having to basically drag you up the stairs. he leads you into a guest room before letting you flop down onto the couch.

“you know i had plans for tonight, and now i gotta stay here and make sure you don't die of alcohol poisoning.” rafe says, wanting to make sure you know how much of a pain in his ass you are being.

“im sorry.” you pout, and it stirs something in rafe, seeing you laying splayed out on the bed, sorrowful look on your face and big doe eyes looking up at him.

“you know, you could do something to make it up to me.” rafe offers.

“like-like what?” you ask, blinking up at rafe.

“suck me off.” rafe says, watching you process and then react to what he just said.

“but-but! we are friends rafe you don't want me to do that!”

“i wouldn't ask if i didn't want it.” rafe shrugs. “besides, i was definitely going to hookup with a girl tonight, so im settling with just a blowjob, unless you want me to fuck you too?”

“no, no.” you shake your head quickly. you think about leaving, about walking out of tanneyhill, but you're not sure your legs can carry you that far. “ill suck you off.”

“good girl.” rafe says, rubbing over his crotch as you reposition yourself, flipping to your stomach and moving yourself to the edge of the bed.

“you're gross for this, rafe.” you say, even as you swat his hand away and rub over his length through the layers of fabric.

“we can always stop and i can take you back to your parents. tell them what a naughty girl you've been, getting drunk then rubbing at my dick.”

“no, no.” you shake your head. “im gonna do it just give me a sec.” you unbutton rafes pants slowly before tugging the zipper down, trying to force your mind to sober up as he tugs his pants down, taking the underwear down at the same time, revealing his half hard cock.

“oh my god, you’re so big.” the words slip out of your mouth before you can help it, making rafe chuckle.

you cautiously reach for his cock, wrapping your hand around the base and slowly beginning to stroke up and down, waiting for him to fully harden before you even attempt to put it in your mouth.

“come on, y/n.” rafe encourages you, stepping closer and pressing his thighs into the edge of the bed. you open your mouth and cautiously take a lick over the head of his cock, eyes sliding shut when you realize how good he tastes on your tongue.

you quickly take more of him, mouth swallowing his cock as you bob your head. rafe moans, tangling his fingers in your hair as you work on his cock, all apprehension gone the second you actually felt him.

“fuck, if this is how good you are drunk, i can’t imagine you sober.” rafe groans. he never really thought about you in a sexual way before, always just a background character in his life that he’d joke around and flirt with, but it was never serious until now.

“yeah?” you smirk as you pull off, taking a deep breath, your hand immediately beginning to stroke him to make up for it.

“we’ll see if you even remember this.” rafe laughs, tugging on your hair, forcing you to retake him in your mouth. you choke slightly before regaining composure, sucking his cock deep into your mouth, managing to go all the way down and pressing your nose into his skin. you credit the alcohol flowing through your veins as the reason for your gag reflex not playing up, along with the confidence you have managed to muster up.

“are you sure i can’t fuck you?” rafe asks.

you shake your head no while still swallowing around his cock. you know you’ll wake up and regret this, but the regret is a million times better than the punishment you would face from your parents.

“maybe in the morning.” rafe grunts, hands tightening on your hair as he begins to snap his hips forward, keeping your mouth in place, not caring that drool is dripping down your chin and that your hands are fisted on the comforter, gripping it so tightly that you can feel your nails digging in to your palm through the fabric.

“so good, baby. keep sucking.” rafe commands, knowing he isn’t going to last much longer.

rafe lets out a groan and you feel him swell inside of your mouth before releasing, cumming straight down your throat, his hands keeping you pushed down on his dick, even when you try to pull away and take a breath.

rafe makes sure you stay on him for his entire high, throat constricting around his dick until he pushes your head away, cock flopping out.

you cough, wiping at your mouth. “i can’t believe you made me do that.”

“aye, chill out, y/n. you were certainly acting like you enjoyed it.” rafe laughs, tapping your cheek as you recoil. rafe tucks his cock back into his pants, redoing the button.

“yeah, whatever.” you roll onto your back, moving so your head is back over the pillow. your eyes close,

“scooch over.” rafe commands, making you furrow your brow and look at him.

“what for?”

“i like this side of the bed.” he explains.

“you’re not sleeping in the same bed as me, fuck off.” you wave your hand.

“nah, you’re too drunk. gotta make sure you don’t puke all over the sheets.” rafe explains, hand coming to your hip, pushing so you have no choice but to roll to the other side of the bed.

“too drunk to sleep alone but not too drunk for me to suck your dick.” you roll your eyes. “make it make sense.” “hey.” rafe glares at you. “don’t make me wake you up with my cock inside you. shut it.”

he reaches over and shuts off the light, casting the room into darkness. you let out a sigh to show your disapproval of the situation but don’t say anything more as the silence stretches out a few minutes. “rafe?”

“what?”

“can you hold me?”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart

#rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron one shot #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction

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basicinstnct · 6 months

Text

spoonfed / suguru geto

word count: 1,181

tags: yandere, drugged sex, non-consensual drug use, forced orgasm, bath sex, vomiting, implied kidnapping, aphrodisiacs, established relationship (LOL)

a/n: “have you ever read sharp objects?” me:

summary: After a night spent at Suguru's, you find yourself in poor health.

It’s all very funny, mostly. You’d felt anxious, but fine going to sleep last night. Then when you woke up, the first thing you did was run for the bathroom. You’d hoped sheepishly to return to bed unnoticed, but naturally when you walked back into the bedroom Suguru was awake, waiting with a glass of water for you.

You’d tried to play it off, but then you threw up again, and again. After, Suguru held you close, told you not to hide your whimpers. He said something then, almost blurted it like he couldn’t help himself.

“I guess you won’t be able to make that work trip.”

That was right, wasn’t it? You’d had a trip, one you were supposed to leave for today, but you didn’t have one anymore, it seemed. Suguru had slid out of bed for a moment, grabbing his cell, telling you there’s nothing to worry about, he’ll take care of it.

Now, you feel like a frail Victiorian child. It aches to stand, to breathe even. You’d hoped to find your clothes, to get out of Suguru’s place once you’d gained a bit of strength. You couldn’t imagine yourself willingly letting him see you like this in a million years, but now it’s happening and you’re hating every second of it. If you could only leave, you’d be able to take an extended break to recover, so you’d be at your best the next time you saw him, if he’d want to see you again.

“You should get back into bed.” You hadn’t even noticed his arrival, which wasn’t surprising. However, instead of being amused, you feel pure dread.

“Um, thanks,” you find yourself trailing off. Has it ever been this hard to put one word in front of the other? “Actually though, I should probably go home. I’ve been here too long and… I don’t want to get you sick.”

“I’ll be fine,” Suguru sighs. He seems to glide across the room until he’s right in front of you, wrapping cold hands around your arms to fold you back into his sheets. You were shaking in the frigid air of your boyfriend’s bedroom but swallowed in fabric you suddenly start to burn. It’s not long before you’re hurling yourself over the side of the bed, desperate to preserve some measure of self control, of decency.

There’s already a trashcan there for you, and Suguru holds your hair back as you empty the contents of your stomach. It’s liquid and bits of apple. You’d been so weak he’d had to feed you himself, bits freshly chopped into small pieces. His hand on your shoulder, moving softly over and over on the same piece of skin.

“I feel sick,” you raise your head as much as you can, ashamed of your condition. It’s Suguru who grabs your chin, lifts your head so you can see his face (or so he can see yours). You find yourself surprised that he looks so… kind.

“Maybe the hospital–“

“Don’t be silly,” he says, smiling, “Like I would let anyone else take care of you. Now, into the tub.”

He carries you there, and against his chest, you can hear his heartbeat through his robe, feel it too. You think it’s racing, but it’s equally as possible that your sense of time is just distorted.

He says nothing as he strips your nightgown off you. It doesn’t even make you blush at this point, and he hums softly at your display of reliance.

The water is hot, so much so that you panic and try to escape, but Suguru’s there to push your shoulders down. Instantly, you sink until the water is just below your breasts. Stagnant, waiting for his next move.

He drops to his knees behind you, probably so you can’t see what he’s doing. It takes more effort than it should, but you turn your head. You’re barely able to see as he pulls out two capsules from what seems like nowhere, and inside are two yellow pills. You hold out your hand, but he gently pushes it away and holds the first one to your mouth. You don’t fight it, or the second one which comes moments later. Then, there’s another glass of water to drink. All the while, he strokes his other hand through your hair. You’re embarrassed that the gesture works to comfort you.

Suguru scrubs your flesh with a soft brush, using the soap you have at your place. You realize that he must have bought it for his. He washes your hair, your face. He treats you with care, but at the same time it feels a bit like a checklist. Once you’re done with one thing, he’s moving on to something else. Still, it’s all routine procedure, until he surprises you.

“Open your legs,” he tells you, and when it takes you too long to comply he does it himself. Then you feel his fingers cup you there. Suguru doesn’t move them; he only applies a bit of pressure you can barely manage. Precise like a surgeon’s hands.

“What are you doing!” You try to be stern but it comes out like a weak moan. You’re so overwhelmed by the illness, by shame of being like this in front of him, that the slightest bit of something pleasurable stuns you.

“Taking your temperature,” he says with no shame, and you’d never believe that’s really what he means to do. “You’re hot.”

“I bet,” you manage to mutter. When Suguru smiles, you realize your lip is trembling.

“In fact, I think I should cool you down.”

He thumbs at your clit, kisses your neck. It takes barely that to wind you up. Quickly, you find yourself panting for him, out of breath doing nothing at all. You’re worried how reactive you’ll be if he makes you come, but Suguru isn’t scared to push you there.

His fingers tease at you, stroking softly, but you whine as he presses harder on your clit and begins rubbing it with soft strokes. Your instinct is to writhe, to shake, but you feel too dizzy with pleasure for any of that.

“This is good, right?” you’re asked, like he doesn’t know. “It makes you feel better.”

“Suguru,” you plead, but it falls on deaf ears.

He leads you towards your orgasm with commands, stay still even though you aren’t moving. Don’t fight, when you haven’t the strength to try. He tells you to kiss him, and you lean your head back to meet his lips. You feel his moan in your mouth, and he coaxes your tongue to touch his. The hand not working you holds your jaw so you’re stuck to him.

You come like that, with his fingers on your cunt. The feeling is hot and muffled. Suguru kisses you the entire time, whispering words in between. He tells you he’s being gentle for you, that it’s nothing you’ve haven’t taken before, probably a hundred times. He’s not wrong, but you still feel worse than ever when he finally opens you up and slips a finger inside.

#my writing #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #suguru geto smut #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto #jjk smut #jjk x reader #smut #if you saw this before no you didn’t!#yandere suguru #yandere geto #yandere

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scar-crossedlvrs · 10 months

Note

All hail ID! Leon!!! I’m wondering how he would reacts when his Reader! young gf got kidnapped or been taken as hostage. Let’s just say maybe she got at the wrong place wrong time? Chris and Leon partnered up to save her 🫢 (I don’t want Leon go thru this alone, he got enough shit already tbh)

(I don’t know if you’re gonna write this up or not but whatever it is, stay safe and take care of yourself gorl 🩵)

Leon S Kennedy - Help Me

ID!Leon is my favorite Leon no questions about it. I have this headcanon that ID!Leon is the one with the most confidence in his skills & second most optimistic Leon era just due to his successes ( saving ashley and the ‘dozens of successful missions’ that shen mei references ). Anyway, watch me rip that all away in one fell swoop.

cw for : f!reader, kidnapping, swearing, blood mention, implied age gap (up to you tbh), reckless driving, chris redfield, it’s mostly just a mess of angst and anger.

gentle reminder that all of my works sfw or not are intended for 18+ audiences.

The inbox is open for requests.

How many times had he told you to lock the goddamned doors?

Fingers drum against the steering wheel as he weaves in and out of traffic. His phone trilled in his ear as he drove and the longer it rang, the more his gut bubbled with anxiety.

“Pick up the fucking phone Redfield.”

The scene was still vivid in his mind. Your front door slightly ajar as he pulled up to your house. Leon had immediately been put on edge by this. The overwhelming feeling of panic however, didn’t set in until he noticed the bright red smear across the white painted wood.

Inside the house wasn’t much better, turned over from top to bottom. Every single one of your meticulously placed photos and knickknacks were strewn smashed on the floor, broken glass, plastic and porcelain everywhere. All decorated with a spattering of red. The same scene played out in each and every one of the rooms. It didn't seem to be a run of the mill robbery though. Nothing of value was missing, nothing besides you.

The worst part was the way your phone went to voicemail every single time he called.

“Hello?”

Leon’s torn from his thoughts at the sound of the voice on the other end of the phone. Chris Redfield.

“Answer the phone any slower?” he’s snappy, frustrated, scared.

It must have been obvious, with the way the concern laced into Chris’s words. “Leon? Is something wrong?”

“She’s gone, Chris. The house is a mess and her phone just goes straight to voicemail. Someone was there, and I think they took her.”

The word vomit just spews from his lips as he switches lanes again, white-knuckling the steering wheel as icy eyes dart around. He’s not sure where he’s going, what he’s looking for. He’s not sure of anything anymore.

Had he gotten too cocky, too lax in his security? Everything had been going so well since Ashley. He had been saving people. What the fuck went wrong? Fuck, he should have pressed the issue harder when he asked you to move in with him. At least there he could have kept a better eye on you, kept you safe. This wouldn’t have happened.

Leon was spiraling.

“Are you still with me, Kennedy?” Chris’s voice broke through the haze again.

"Yeah." Barely.

"You sure she was at home? She's probably just not answering your calls."

Chris didn't know you, didn't know that you didn't just ignore phone calls, especially not his calls. You weren't just ignoring him.

"I wouldn't have called you if I thought she was just ignoring my calls. The place was torn up Redfield. Whoever it was, was looking for something. There was blood fucking everywhere." His words came out more aggressive than intended.

They had to, he needed to get his point across.

“Okay, yeah that’s bad. But I can’t just get clearance to do anything..”

“I’m not asking you to deploy the BSAA. I’m asking you to help me” Leon cut him off.

The silence that hangs makes him regret calling Chris. Had he made a call to the wrong Redfield? He should have just called Claire. She wouldn’t have hesitated so much, wouldn’t have wasted so much time. That was if she even picked up the phone.

Either way, for once, he couldn’t do this on his own. Not like this.

"Go home. I'll meet you there. We'll figure this out okay? Don't do anything stupid Leon."

"Yeah."

---

Your head is aching, forehead damp with sweat or blood ( you're not sure which ), feet sore and bloodied from stumbling through the shattered glass on your living room floor. Eyes are covered with a thick blindfold, and the room is dark and quiet.

All alone with your thoughts. Thoughts of how you ended up here. How you had been so distracted, unable to notice the men coming in through the unlocked front door. One snatching you up as the other set out to look for something, smashing everything in his path. Your screams fell on deaf ears, feet being dragged through the mess on the floor as you struggled to break free.

Until a sharp pain to the back of the head forced you into unconsciousness.

There's the sound of shuffling, metal clinking, and there's something pressed to your ear. A phone? There's a few moments of trilling rings before a voice answers with a panicked "Hello?"

"Leon?"

Your voice is hoarse from the screaming earlier, and tears sting at your eyes.

"Baby where are you?" You've never heard him sound like this, scared.

"I don't know, Lee. Help me. I don't know where I am. It's dark and I'm scared."

Before he can respond, the phone is pulled from your ear. The scream ripped from your throat as his voice was cut off by the phone being hung up. A sharp laugh caused a shiver to course through you as you struggled against your bindings.

"Think that got his attention, hm princess?"

________________________________________________

uh i don't know where I was going to go with this, meaning cliffhanger!!! one person says they want more & i'll plan out more <3

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy angst #tea writes things

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fatale-distraction · 4 months

Text

BG3 Companions Social Media Headcanons Part 1

I was bored at work and couldn’t stop. 🤣 I’ll make another post with Halsin, Minthara, Jaheira, Minsc, and some NPCs!

~~~

Astarion - Pre-Tav, Astarion's social media is mostly thirst-traps for some kind of nefarious, Cazador-related money-making plot. They barely scoot past the TOS on lewd content. Very little real personal content, anything that isn't a thirst trap is heavily doctored lifestyle content to make it seem like he's living a much more luxurious life than he actually is.

After meeting Tav and getting rid of Cazador, he deletes all of his old accounts and opens up new ones. They're not exactly private, but he's much more careful about who he follows and who can follow him back. The posts become much more genuine. Still a lot of selfies, but they're sexy in the way of a guy just finally living his truth and being comfortable in his own skin. There's more shots of his daily life; waking up with his partner's obnoxious pets strewn across the bed, morning coffee and his current favorite book, new outfits that make him feel more himself. Tav features heavily in most of his posts, and there are probably as many pictures of them as there are of himself.

Karlach - chaos. No rhyme or reason. Lots of parkour and Jack-ass parodies. Constant flood of pictures of her stuffed animal collection. Stupid filters abound. There's several videos of her just flexing. Lumberjack videos. Seven hundred pictures of Tav, tons of selfies together. Videos of her literally sobbing over some cute stuffy she found or a dog she got to pet. "How many times can I say the fuck word before I get suspended." Memes. Memes everywhere.

Lae'zel - She follows three accounts and never posts anything, but somehow she's constantly scrolling through. What does she even do? Her profile picture is still the default. She doesn't have any profile information filled out. It just says "No." Her screen name is just Lae_zel. Every single item in her favorites is a cat video. She has One photo and its a gym selfie. All of her comments seem really mean at first, but they're all weirdly supportive things along the lines of "your teeth are sharp and your visage terrifying".

Shadowheart - total E-girl influencer vibe. Everything is #nofilter. She doesn't need filters. She's god's most perfect princess. You can't even be mad because it's not vanity its just how she Is. Ends everything with Prayer-hands-emoji hashtag Shar'sblessings or Selune'sblessings depending on where she is in that journey. Hairstyle and makeup tutorials and she makes it look so damn easy. "Dye my hair and cut my bangs with me." "Get ready with me" videos nearly every day. Every picture has a comment from Astarion that just says "oh fuck off" because even he can never hope to be as perfect as she is. Or at least that's what her forty-five thousand followers think.

Wyll - The official Blade of the Frontier social media account(s). Fencing videos and promos. "How to polish your horns for newbies" video that's been taken down twenty-seven times for lewd content even though it's literally for polishing actual horns. Accidental thirst traps because damn. Lots of disability advocacy, especially for visual impairments. Weekly Demon/Devil PSAs. Constantly featured in Karlach's vids and vice-versa. Buddy selfies. Once in a while a pic of him with his dad. Pics with Tav are rare, but when he does post them they're the sweetest pictures and he gushes about them for paragraphs. It's a little gross how gushy they are. Astarion comments with vomit emojis and Wyll just replies with an angry face emoji. The purest content. He's so wholesome. Not a swear to be seen. Lots of gentle hype videos. "You've got this. You can do this. I believe in you."

Gale - oh my god he has the most pretentious social media accounts. He's worse than Astarion. "Well, actually" videos with multiple parts because they're too long. Tea and bookshelves. Tara. So many pics of Tara. Tara napping on a book. Tara swatting a fly. Tara in the window. Tara on the kitchen counter. Tara laying in the sun. Tara doing nothing. He has one of those fancy cat terrarium backpacks. Magic tutorials. Mystra simp. Surprisingly few selfies but the ones he has are IMMACULATE. Pretentious book reviews. His only saving grace is that he is HILARIOUS. He's the only one with a reasonable about of pics with Tav as opposed to almost none or way too many, but the captions are always really sweet.

~~~

Part 2 here!

Part 3 here!

Part 4

#baldur's gate 3 #Baldur’s gate 3 Headcanons #bg3 #bg3 headcanons #shadowheart #astarion #wyll ravengard #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #astarion ancunin #lae'zel #karlach

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hyperfixiation-station · 5 months

Text

Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Information

A Study in Torture

TW: Blood, Gore, Torture, graphic depiction's of violence Summary: Reader was caught on a mission and has been in the clutches of the enemy for over a month...

Apprehension, Rescue, Rehabilitation

You wake up sputtering, freezing cold, and drenched in water.

“Good morning little bird. Thought you would like a bath.” Your captor stands above you, rolling you onto your back with his foot, “You are pretty filthy.” You squirm slightly, and he steps on your arm to pin you in place. He crouches over you, gripping your face with his hands.

“You know how I feel about you sleeping without permission, little bird. Why’d you have to go and break that rule? Now I have to punish you.” He says sadly. He gets off of you, only to yank you up by the collar wrapped around your throat and let go. You teeter, vision swimming as your broken body tries to compensate for the change in position.

The room you are led to is mostly bare, with just a tub of water in the center. Your heart sinks, fear pooling your belly. You’ve been here long enough to know that water is your least favorite method of punishment. When you first were brought here, the goal was to extract information from you, but now it seems more like your captor gets off on you being in pain.

“You know how much I love water Little Bird.” He laughs, dragging you forward.

“Kneel.” He murmurs, standing you in front of the tub.

You drop to your knees without hesitation.

“Aw you can learn something. I’m so proud.” The man says happily, petting your hair. Despite yourself, you preen under the praise.

“Unfortunately, you did break rules this morning, soooo.” He grabs your hair, twisting so it's balled up in his hand, “Deep breath little bird.” He shoves your head under, digging his knee into your back to hold you in place.

For the first minute you sit still, waiting, but as the seconds tick by with you not being allowed up, as your lungs begin to burn and scream for air, panic sets in and you try to fight your way up.

He lets go, allowing you up. You sucks in ragged breaths, coughing and vomiting up water as your body shakes. He gives you another second before grabbing your shoulders and forcing you back down. He does this again and again and again, until you are a shivering, pathetic mess.

He cups your cheek, running a hand through your hair. “It doesn't have to be like this little bird. All you have to do is listen to me. It’s really not that hard.”

You shiver violently, staring at the ground, still kneeling in front of the basin. The man frowns, yanking your head up.

“Look at me when I am talking to you.” He snarls, “God, why are you so stubborn? I don’t want to do this, but you just. Won’t. Listen.” He wraps the chain attached to the collar on your neck around his hand and pulls, yanking you up.

You let out a startled yelp, vision going black as your body screams for you to rest.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper. The man growls, yanking you toward him and slamming your face into the wall. “You will address me by Sir.” He screams at you, “Is that really so hard? It's three little letters you stupid, worthless slut.”

You sink to the floor, sobbing. Blood runs down your face, getting in your eyes, in your nose, in your mouth. Your head throbs, your lungs burn, and your ears ring, but you can still hear him screaming at you over the sound. “Say it.” He screams, each word sending spikes of pain through your skull, “Say you are a stupid, worthless slut.” You won’t. You may have lost every scrap of dignity, may kneel at his feet like a dog, but he had not broken you so completely that you would desecrate herself like that.

“You. Fucking. Worthless. Whore.” He snarls, foot connecting with your body with each word, “It's no wonder no one has come to save you. No one wants a disobedient bitch. You won’t tell me what I want to know, and now you won’t even listen to me. I saved you from death and this is how you repay me?” You shriek in pain as he brings his heel down on your wrist, shattering it. He kicks you again and again and again, bones crunching, skin breaking, the sheer agony of it dragging you into the blessed depths of unconsciousness.

The video ends there, your body so bloody and broken it's almost unrecognizable. The conference room is completely silent, save for the dry heaves coming from Gaz’s direction.

“We have their location Captain.”

LMK what you think and if you want a part 2

#cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #cod fanfic #angst #ghost fanfiction #call of duty x reader #dead dove do not eat #i love torturing my OCs #enjoy the writings of a deranged lunatic #cliffhanger #whump

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katasstrophy · 1 year

Note

Bruh Nagi being buff as hell after Manshine's training 🥰🥰🥰

sammy you deadass bout to make me objectify this man on main SO BAD this has been running something of a small marathon in my head so 😵‍💫😵‍💫 pls accept my humble word vomit

cw. [n]sfw. mdni. pro player! nagi + aged-up characters. bit of body worship(?) you ride his abs. nipple play (m. receiving). subby nagi (but he's actually a switch >:) + some fluff bc he's so baby :(

note. a bit rambly oop soz it’s bc i went insane. i describe how he looks like to ME (re: hot as fuck) but i guess y'all can read it too hehe<3

1.4k words -> how could you ever hope to keep your hands to yourself when nagi's body looks like that.

i feel like unless you have prior knowledge of the fact that nagi is a pro athlete, from a cursory glance, your first thought upon seeing him wouldn’t be “hmm i bet that dude is built like a brick house.” it doesn’t help that nagi’s basically the unofficial king of athleisure — his closet’s chockfull of loose-fitting hoodies and sweats. he barely owns anything else besides those monochrome hooded tracksuits (and sportswear for practice, i guess he’d need some of that too lol) because he claims it’s the only outfit that gives him unlimited access to just lounge about basically anywhere he pleases. it’s what he genuinely finds to be the most comfortable style for him as well. but if you’re fortunate enough to get a peak underneath the layers of baggy clothes? dear god nagi’s built like a fever dream. amen you’ll eat so good then he’s a whole ass feast.

i’m gonna brazenly speak my truth here so don’t come for me >:( but! from what you’d consider to be “a typical footballer’s physique”, purely from that perspective, nagi’s legs are… not that impressive. his stagnant motivation has much improved ever since he committed to making a career out of soccer, but that doesn’t mean his slacker tendencies haven’t followed suit. don’t get me wrong, he still puts his all into every game so his legs are still very much capable of making your mouth water, but you won’t catch him sprinting up and down the field at full speed if he can help it. packed with lean muscle, his thighs are thick, calves well-defined with a few bold veins thinly zigzagging down the taut skin like a lightning strike on the occasion you happen to catch him after a particularly gruelling conditioning session. but compared to some of his teammates whose legs seem to be carved from iron, he’s a bit.. overshadowed.

it’s a fairly similar story with his arms. (i promise i’m not just talking shit lol i could NEVER my poor meow meow it’s gonna get so hot in a second i swear just bear with me!!!) again, it’s most definitely a drool-worthy sight. the stretch of his arms is long and sinewy, rolling with a set of generous biceps that flutter under the gentle scrap of your fingerpads and nails when he (totally intentionally) flexes the swell of muscle there. in his profession, he mostly uses his arms for balance and to create distance between himself and his opponents. buried in his private nook back home, he has a tendency to hold his phone above his head while playing mobile games — that blissfully only rarely come crashing down on his face — but his unrivalled favourite will, of course, always be enveloping you in his arms <3

nagi’s not the most expressive person, but his subtle social cues become much easier to pick up on whenever he’s sleepy, which let’s be honest is almost always. he’s in dire need of a snuggle in those moments and not only loves, but craves being close to you physically, his face a canvas of huffy evidence of what a Big Deal this is to him if you learn to read the hidden hints (it’s a pursed, pouty frown nine times out of ten he ain’t slick lmfao). he kind of regards your presence as his “recharging station” what a cringe fail soggy loser man i adore him with my whole heart 🥹 his lanky limbs will snake around you with the security of a vine until you’re all cosy and wrapped up in each other, his hold bearing enough strength to not budge against any playful escape tactics you might attempt — at least not until he decides he’s had his fair share of quality snuggle time with you.

nagi’s a practical man, however — the world doesn’t call him a lazy genius for nothing. for these, albeit lovely, purposes, he determined there’s absolutely no need to overexert himself by lifting weights to buff up his arms. he can get by just fine! there are definitely more jacked arms out there i’m sorry :(

but here’s the kicker. nagi’s tall. you could even say he’s huge — he’d tower over most people if he actually straightened his posture for once. so his muscle mass kind of stretches out a bit… unevenly throughout his body. he does have muscle mass though, plenty of it, actually, and he needs only to do one tiny little thing to remind you of it: lift his shirt up.

it’s a subconscious, everyday thing for nagi to toy with the hem of his cotton tees. his fingers often grow restless if they’re just lying about, so playing with the material of his clothes is not only stupidly ready at hand but also helps to soothe the itch brimming along his fingers to do something with them. in the process, you’re rewarded with glimpses of his stomach often when he involuntarily ends up exposing the skin clinging to those hard planes. but what’s objectively worse for your sanity is when nagi comes trudging into the kitchen to ease his thirst. he never bothers with a glass from the cupboard, just swoops down to drink from the open tap, his adam’s apple bopping rhythmically as he swallows. there’s water coating his lips when he rises, a few droplets still running down his chin that he tugs on the ends of his t-shirt to lazily wipe away. it’s an innocent endeavour to him, but a sinful display for you, as it essentially shows off his entire, deliciously shaped midriff. nagi might slack off in other areas, but his core strength is insane. his torso is like a gift from the heavens, chiselled after the image of their gods and heroes. don’t even get me started on his abs.

because i cannot stress enough how perfect nagi’s abs are for grinding your sweet, drooling little cunny on :( the ridges of muscle packed together at his abdomen are firm, but twitch almost uncontrollably when you slowly drag your cunt up and down the sculpted slabs of his stomach that bump against your poor, swollen clit in a way that makes you delirious. your thighs bracket his waist as you move, his waist that is so trim and almost tiny compared to the broad stretch of his shoulders. you can feel the coarse, light hair of his happy trail graze against your bare ass, leading to his heavy, stirring cock still confined in his sweats for now as you continue to leisurely rut your pussy down his abs, leaving a slick mess behind. the hard cut of his v-line is so prominent a thin contour of shadow clings to the underside of it.

nagi wishes desperately that he could help you, that he could sink his fingers into the plush of your skin and push you down along his abdomen to accelerate your high, dictate a more intense pace for you by his hands and make you take it, but he’s too busy being a moaning, blubbering mess underneath you to take initiative. his large palm lies dormant at your waist, the other tangled in his snowy, sweaty bangs so he doesn’t miss even a blink of the intoxicating vision you present above him. he’s drunk on every salacious sound that comes tumbling from your lips, every wanton contortion of your gorgeous face as the lewd squelching of your pussy fills his ears. his defined chest is flushed red from arousal, shuddering with shaky exhales as he all but devours the sight of you — he thinks you using him for your own pleasure is so fucking hot.

if you want to turn him into an utter wreck, whining like a bitch in heat, please please play with his nipples :( paw at his pecs all needy first, ‘n don’t be afraid to grip the flesh with the blunt of your nails. he’ll mewl about it, but you only need to shush and praise him, tell him how good he looks like this for you and he’ll behave. pinch at the pretty pink of his pebbled nipples, gently circle his areola with your tongue, sucking on the bud and nagi will lose his mind, might even cum untouched :( but that’s okay because he’s so turned on his refractory period is barely an issue, he’ll sink into your tight, sloppy walls in one go and fuck you absolutely senseless on his cock. it’s all you can do to scramble for purchase with your trembling fingers, marking up the milky expanse of his broad back and mouthing at his collarbones to stifle your near pornographic keens and cries as he mercilessly splits you open.

in conclusion nagi seishiro is built like a wet dream and i want him carnally </3

#i rewrote this like three times so i’m just releasing it into wild now bc i’m sick of it lol!! i retain my right for this to be sucky hehe #haven’t written anything in a hot minute but if this causes at least one (1) person to short circuit my job here is done #nagi smut #nagi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut #—bllk.thirsts!#—riv.fic!

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catsfor2 · 1 year

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hit me, pt 1

word ct.: 2.3k, largely unedited gen: boxer!ellie x med student!reader au!!!, reader is a barista, ellie is mean (she has her reasons), reader is a pretty princess femme because i said so, also ellie says dyke (because i said so)(but not in this chapter lol) warnings: swearing/language, age diff (reader is 19 ellie is 23), drug use (alcohol), eventual smut, angst

a/n: this chapter is a kinda slow start, i mostly just wanted write some establishing dialogue type stuff. i want this to be a medium length ish fic. definitely nsfw in the future. i’m also going to (attempt) to have a more organized pov switching order? idk maybe each part switches between ellie and reader or maybe 1 switch per part? idk. lmk what u think. if you like my writing pls interact on this post or even visit my blog to submit a hc, drabble, or fic idea! requests are open

a/n 2: also, thank you sm to everyone who voted on the poll!!! will totally be doing more of those in the future

part 1.5

You were so drunk. Like, so fucking drunk. Legs wobbling and cheeks flushed, an idiot could notice how intoxicated you were. Hanging off of your friends and approaching strangers. A mess, is what you looked like. You'd learned to restrict yourself over the years, as your friends have informed you of all of the humiliating behaviors you exhibit drunk.

You weren't too worried about anything, though. It's your first night drinking in a while—you're up at university now. Rarely do you get to join Dina and her friends by actually consuming the alcohol—you usually just pass. However, tonight, you wanted to get fucked up. You wanted to forget. Fortunately Dina's a good host, and an even better friend. If anyone was going to be holding your hair back at the end of the night, it would probably be her.

The very first thought you had was holy shit, this is not Dina holding my hair. You shouldn't say 'holding', really. Whoever's hand was in your hair was gripping, hard.

"Shut up, you're fine. Here—drink. No, not sip, drink." A voice directs, bringing a cold cup of water to your mouth.

The first sip is disgusting, the stale tastes of alcohol on your tongue washing down your throat.

Oh Christ, is this one of Dina's friends? How do I not remember her? And her...huge shoulders?

"Seriously—fuckin' drink or I'll make you." The same voice says, meaner and harsher. This person talked to you like you were an animal.

The hand that clutches your hair lets go, and surprisingly gently, rakes over your head a few times to smooth it out. You absentmindedly lean into the touch, too far past the threshold to stop yourself.

The hand moves to your nape as you start to drink, cradling. Her fingers just barely reach around the sides of your neck.

You hesitantly gulp about half the glass of water before the brunette puts it back on the counter.

"Ewwww, is that sink water?" You whine, your face scrunching.

"What, it's not good enough for you? You want Fiji? Fuck is the problem?"

Her tone sobers you up for a moment, locking your eyes to the tiles. You couldn't look at someone while they yelled at you.

Slouching on the floor while she hovers over you, you pull the edges of your dress over your folded legs, only just now feeling the bareness. Your hands stay clutched in the fabric.

"Are you done now?" She says. Rudely, you think. She could've meant 'done' with your vomiting or with your complaining, you weren't quite sure.

"Yeah...I think so. Thank you. Um, really, thank you." You try to say, still feeling stuffy and weighted from all the liquor in your system. She looks at you so intensely you turn your head to escape her gaze.

"Dina asked me to." She takes a damp towel and wipes around your face. "Plus you're so drunk it's a fuckin' liability."

"I'm—m'sorry. Who are you? I've never seen you at one of Dina's...things...before, I don't think."

Her hand stills, wet rag still in it. Her eyes hold yours for a moment, closely and intensely, before darting away again.

“Yeah, you haven’t.”

She rolls up her sleeves before wiping over your collarbones and you spot her tattoo. It takes your gaze up the length of her arms, and you simply let your eyes wander over her figure for as long as you want.

"You should probably throw that dress away. Y'got shit all over it now." She states.

Well.

You look down and see that the moisture on your dress has made it completely see through. Your arm moves to drape across your chest to cover your vibrantly patterned bra and your breasts awkwardly spilling out of it.

"Come on, that's jus mean," you complain. "...ignoring me like that. Please, please, pleeease tell me your name..." Your voice is drunken, high-pitched, and definitely annoying. The woman in front of you grimaces.

"No."

"Why not?" You giggle a bit. "I'll tell you mine."

It was kind of your specialty. Annoying people. Her eyebrows shift downwards. No response.

"Hm, ok. I'll ask Dina." You say, a tiny smile trying to break through your face.

"Do it. See if I give a fuck."

"Woooaahhhh, somebody's got a bee in her bonnet! Who peed in your wheaties?"

"You did. And you're at least sixty-fucking-years-old for even saying that," She tosses the rag behind her and puts her hands on her knees to stand all the way up. "y/n."

Your face lights up an in instant. You scramble to your feet.

"How--how do you know mine? But I can't know yours!?"

"Just how it is. I have to go now." She says, throwing her khaki jacket on her back.

"But--hey, hold on, I don't have a ride home anymore! Everyone's left by now!"

"Not my problem. Call your fucking boyfriend or something." She barks, hands now defensively in her pockets.

A laugh promptly bursts out of you, and you impulsively reach out to grasp her shoulder. Your fingers brush over the collar of her jacket.

"O-kay," you quip, "hold on--cause, I don't have a boyfriend, silly," Her eyes bore into yours as your face draws even nearer. "I'm a lesbian..." You whisper giddily, as if it's something only she gets to know.

Her eyes flit away from you as her mouth purses and flattens, like she's contemplating on how to deal with you. In a moment her pupils are locked with yours again.

"Wow, so fucking special, aren't you, princess?" Her last word is a little less bold, less certain than the rest, like it wasn't entirely intentional. You blush, full body and wholeheartedly.

Princess. Princess?

Your grin widens uncontrollably, and you feel yourself giving in to the hazy pleasure of the alcoholic buzz in your blood. Your hands palm your own thighs as you speak.

"Oh...princess? I like that. I've never—I've never been...called that, before. Before now." You breathe out, eyes fluttery and tired.

She didn't snap at you immediately this time. No, instead, she begins to smile. A lazy, smug, confident smile that burns your stomach.

"You're gonna be real fuckin' embarrassed when you remember this tomorrow. Fuckin'—prissy bitch like you acting all shameless."

“You don’t know who I am,” You mutter, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. "and this? This is not shameless. Do you wanna see shameless? What that actually looks like?" You ask, voice quiet on purpose.

"...No. Fuck no." She denies, that microscopic crack of a smile still evident on her face.

She's very pretty when she smiles. Sooooo pretty.

"You swear way too much, you know that?"

"No, I didn't fucking know that."

Her eyes don't leave yours, like she's waiting for something. Finally, something breaks.

The hand that was resting on the doorknob jiggles it open and she stands in the frame for a moment, just staring. Her compelling eyes force your words out.

"Ok but before you go. One question. Just—just one question.”

"What."

You freeze. What did you want to ask her? You remember it being something about her age.

“Well fucking spit it out. I’m trying to leave.” She urges.

Before you can even recall, another thought appears in your head.

"Okay, okay. Call me princess again? Pleeease? Just once before you go. I don't even want a ride anymore.” You take a glance at the bathroom. “I'll just...sleep… here." You whisper, a little upset thinking about how after this woman leaves, you'll be standing in this bathroom, alone.

"..."

She steps forward, mostly expressionless, pulling up the straps of your dress to cover some cleavage you didn't realize was showing. Your face heats shamefully.

She lets out a sigh.

"Dina has a pull-out in the basement. There's another bathroom down there too if y'need it. Go to bed," Her eyes scan you up and down so quickly you almost miss it. "and finish that glass of water."

With that, the door shuts behind her.

And she's gone.

_____________

You did end up talking to Dina about the person you met last night. Around noon, of course, as you both had slept through the entirety of morning.

"Wait...that's Ellie? Are you fucking serious?!" You clamor, barely comprehending what she’s saying.

The person who helped you out last night knew you, and it also happened to be Ellie. You wanted to hit yourself. Knock yourself out. Be unconscious.

"I thought you knew! She doesn't look that different."

"Dina. I haven't seen her in four years, cut me some slack. And she has like—a whole new energy now. It's....different."

She smirks at you. "...Different?"

"I—yes, different. I know I'm not wrong. I'm not."

The last time you saw Ellie, she was 19 and you were 16. You hadn't come out yet, and hung off of your asshole boyfriend's arm for as long as you could when he was around. Ellie hated the guy. You were insufferable, but Dina must've seen through it enough to befriend you. You’re eternally grateful.

Ellie is a family friend of Dina's, so naturally your paths crossed pretty frequently back then. Until two days before her 20th birthday, when she ran away only with plane tickets and a plan to 'elope' with her girlfriend of three months. They broke up a month later.

You haven't seen her since—excluding last night, of course.

"Oh—oh, fuuuuck. Dina, I know why she was so mean to me last night." Your hands reach up and you drop your face into them.

"She was mean? You didn't say that, the hell?"

"Yes—she was mean, Jesus Dina, keep up. Listen I didn't even recognize her. Like, at all. I kept asking for her fucking name, like, over and over and over again! Oh god, she probably thinks I'm such an asshole." You sulk, rerunning the things you said and did last night in your head.

"Yeah, she totally does."

"No! shut up! You're not helping. How was I supposed to--? She has these arms now, she didn't have those three years ago! And her shoulders? They're so much...wider!" You exclaim, bewildered by this entire situation.

"Hah, ok--"

You cut Dina off.

"And the tattoo, oh my god the tattoo! She's basically unrecognizable!"

"Calm the fuck down, perv. She got a new job three years ago and it just changed her a bit. She does a lot of...physical stuff, now. But she's basically the same, I swear."

"Yeah? Ok. That's...reassuring, I guess..." You say, half truthful. Dina looks at you with something you can't identify. "so...what job."

"Uhhhh—well, not my place to say. You'll...definitely have to ask her. Yourself." Dina winces, trying her best to not let out more info than she should.

"Hm. This is getting...less and less reassuring as you go on. But, thank you Dina."

"So you want her number?" She grins, holding up her phone.

"Are you kidding me." You reject. "I do not text first. You know that."

“You freak, not for that,” Dina shakes her head. “but so you guys can fucking make up and not hate each other, maybe?”

She laughs before getting right on her phone and looking for Ellie's contact.

"I'll just send your number to hers then, jeez."

"No, don't do that either. If Ellie's all upset I couldn't tell who she was, she can be a big girl and tell it to my face. And I don't even care if you tell her I said that. Honestly."

Dina looks up at you. Eyes unmoving and apathetic.

"Both of you are so fucking dramatic. Don't think I'm on your side or her's at this point. I’m completely out of this.”

She throws her phone on the couch before tossing her whole body on it as well. She grabs the remote to turn on the TV.

“Oh shit,” Dina laughs.

“What?”

“Ellie’s gonna fuckin’ flip when she finds out you’re gay now,” Dina says with an acute smile.

I already, accidentally, drunkenly told her. Problem fucking solved, you think.

“Ok? Why’s that?”

“Oh, no reason. Just, pure shock, probably.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” You respond lightly. “…I guess she still pictures the me from highschool, right?”

“Is that your way of asking me if she still hates your ex-boyfriend? Cause yeah, trust me, she does—”

An impeding stream of knocks cut her off. You both whip your heads towards the sound.

The door swiftly opens and in steps Ellie.

Nobody speaks for a few seconds.

“…I have coffee. Thanks for leaving the door unlocked, morons,” Her leg kicks backwards and loudly shuts it. “I hope you get fuckin’ robbed one of these times.”

She walks ahead and hands a hot cup to Dina, and then, to you.

Her thumb rubs along the inside of the carabiner clipped to the loop of her jeans. There’s a smidge of silence before she looks up, only really looking at you.

“I need to show you something.”

And that’s all she says. No context, no elaboration.

“Uh—now?” You question, still in the beat up makeup from last night and hair sticking in all different directions. You couldn’t go out in public like this.

“Uh, yes, now.” She unclips the carabiner and spins it around her pinky. “Let’s go.”

“But what if—what if I have plans?”

“Do you?”

“Well no, but I’d like to at least—”

“Jesus Christ both of you are like this? Here: your hair looks great, your makeup is perfect, your boobs are huge. Can we fucking leave now?” She tells you, completely causing you to forget anything you were saying.

In a moment of panic, you glance at Dina.

Her eyebrows and shoulders only give a limp shrug, as if to say, ‘I don’t know what this is about, but you’re on your own!’

Naturally.

“Yeah, we can leave,” you take a sip of your coffee. “…Ellie.”

The second you say her name, her head is turned to you. Her eyebrows creasing and eyes unwilling to break your gaze. So now you know what the stare was about.

You wonder if your cluelessness last night genuinely hurt her. Made her feel unwanted. Unknown. You felt like shit. You just hope she doesn’t feel similar as you do right now.

She says nothing.

And in that silence, with Ellie cutting in front to get the door for you, you leave.

#ellie x reader #ellie fic #ellie tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #lesbian #tlou fic #tlou #tlou part 2 #catsfor2

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cdragons · 1 month

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Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 4

Previous Chapter, Masterlist

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. ...Well, maybe you also hated Annabel Williams as much - but you'd be damned before you let a drunk girl out in the hallway without helping her.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Sex, Felix doesn't make an appearance (but still mentioned), Reader is a girl's girl, Annabel has an epiphany, Michael hates everyone BUT Reader, Farleigh is Farleigh, alternating POVs between characters, and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic. Also Oliver is barely in this chapter, but who cares about that asshat?

Author's Note: I am so sorry for the prolonged hiatus! It was not intentional! My classes have upped the ante in how much HW they gave me, and I got distracted by reading my old GOT fanfics and got ideas for it. BUT - thank you all who've been reading this fic and sharing wonderful comments! They really help push me to become a better writer!

You were caught in a bit of a pickle – granted, it was a voluntary pickle, but a pickle nonetheless.

…Okay, so quick recap of the events that transpired this week:

Regularly-scheduled Annabel tormenting you

Got sexually-harassed by Catton

Had a self-pity session at Bowin

Got found by Mikey Gravy

Olly, the psychotic backstabber/bootlicker, tried to pimp you out to Felix Catton.

You almost committed aggravated homicide of said pimp before Michael dragged you away.

You went to the movies to drool over Johnny Depp.

You and Michael decided you would crash in his dorm room for the night…leading to your current predicament.

Right now, you were dragging an unconscious Annabel, who was drunk off her ass, with one arm flung over your shoulder as you tried to make get any information of where her dorm was out of her. It was a sad picture – mascara running down her cheeks, vomit from her mouth, and lipstick messily smeared across her face. The smell of vomit mixed with cheap booze was almost enough to make you want to drop her on the ground and leave her there if you hadn’t pitied her so much.

When you realized that you weren’t going to get anything out of her that didn’t involve projectile vomiting, you just decided to bring her to rest up in your dorm.

“I still don’t understand why you’re helping her,” Michael grunted.

Oh, yeah…and Michael was helping you, too.

“Because girl code, Gavey–” you grunted, lifting Annabel’s arm higher when you felt her slipping “–no man left behind – or well, no woman left behind in this case.”

“That’s the Geneva Code.”

“Same difference,” you groaned out. Fuck, how was this girl so heavy?

Michael’s face was getting flushed from the sweat running down his forehead. “So, girl code dictates that you have to help the bitch who’s been making your term hell?”

“Girl Code,” you huffed, “wait, hang on - she’s slipping - okay, there we go. ‘Girl Code’ is more of an honor code expected to be followed by all sisters on their journey to womanhood. And one of the most sacred rules in that honor system is that – fuck, she’s heavy – that if you see a sister drunk and unconscious, you make sure she gets home safe.”

“Or your matchbox dorm room, in this circumstance,” your friend grumbled.

You tiredly nodded. “Exactly! Besides, regardless of how heinous she is, it’s the right thing to do.”

“(Y/N), you realize she won’t be getting hypothermia, right?” Michael frustratingly groaned. “It’s late spring.”

“But that doesn’t mean there aren’t people out there who won’t take advantage of her in her current state. They’d say, ‘Oh, she was asking for it,’ or ‘she’s just imagining things, do you remember how hammered she was?’ And then it’ll be their word against hers.”

You went silent for a bit. “I don’t want that to happen to her. No one should have that happen to them – girl or guy, bully or friend.”

“Well, in any case,” Michael started as the two of you finally arrived at the beginning of your dormitory. “It’s lucky that your dorm is so close to mine. Are you sure you want her in there? There’s still the chance she’ll vomit all over your carpet if she misses the bucket or even your covers.”

You opened the door with your ID card. “I’ll just have to take that chance, I guess. Look, I’ll try to wake her up long enough to see if she remembers any of her friend’s numbers. If any of them pick up, I’ll tell them to pick her up.”

Michael looked at you with heavy doubt in his eyes. “And if they don’t? Pick up, I mean?”

“Then I guess we’ll be having a sleepover,” you sighed as you reached your room at the end of the hallway. “And then we’ll never have to see each other ever again when morning comes.”

Michael loudly snorted while you clumsily reached into your back pocket for your keys. “Don’t jinx yourself. With your bleeding heart, you’ll probably end up donating your liver to her if she doesn’t die of alcohol poisoning first.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, come one. Have a bit more faith in me – SHIT!” you exclaimed after you dropped your keys.

You quickly scrambled to the floor while Michael guffawed at your misfortune. You shot a quick glare at him to get him to shut up. The bespectacled bastard didn’t stop laughing until…like, three minutes passed. In response, you dropped Annabel’s arm from your shoulder to focus on finding your room key. You chuckled to yourself when you heard Michael curse to himself as he tried to balance the drunk girl’s weight without getting her too close to him. When you finally found it, you inserted it into the lock. You sighed in relief when the door opened. You were even more relieved that your roommate had decided to spend the night at her girlfriend’s dorm. You really didn’t want to have to explain to her why you were voluntarily helping the vile witch bitch who was actively trying to make your college years hell. Meanwhile, Michael grimaced and groaned as he held Annabel away from his body at arm’s length.

“Is sluttiness contagious through touch?” he asked.

“Unless pre-Sith Anakin suddenly pops into this hallway, I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that,” you snorted as you opened the door to let Michael drag the unconscious girl into the room.

Michael scoffed at your choice of Star Wars beefcake. “Bitch, please. Young Obi-Wan Kenobi was far superior.”

He went to the center of the room and released Annabel from his grip to let her unceremoniously fall on the floor, and her body made a soft ‘thump.’ You wrinkled your nose and grimaced at the pathetic nature of tonight. She looked less like the glamorous Oxford party ‘IT’ girl and more like one of those sad groupies who OD’d in their favorite rockstar’s pool from a house party. You didn’t know what the hell her story of tonight was – but it still didn’t mean she deserved to be left alone, slumped against a wall in a dirty hallway with vomit all over her.

You turned to Michael. “Okay! Off you trot!”

Your favorite bespectacled blonde nerd gave you a look of complete bewilderment.

“Seriously?” he asked. “Not even a thank you? I literally dragged her body here from my dormitory and risked being the first victim of a new STD contracted through skin contact.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics – if he weren’t such a numbers genius, he would have been the perfect theater kid.

“Don’t be such an incel,” you admonished. “It’s not a good look on you. And I carried more of her body weight than you, dumbass. If I left it up to you, we’d never get anywhere with your twiggy arms.”

You poked his arms in emphasis and snickered when he pouted. He crossed his arms and was about to leave when you pounced on him. A bit of Annabel’s “Britney Spears Fantasy” spray perfume soaked into his shirt, but other than that, he still smelled like himself. The scent of fresh laundry, freshly mowed grass, and spearmint toothpaste made you feel safe. His scent, combined with his body heat, enveloped you in comfort.

“Thanks, Mikey,” you whispered. “I know you didn’t have to help me, but you did anyway.”

Gavey wrapped his arms around you as he rested his chin on your head. He usually hated contact with anybody save his family, but you were always the exception. Michael should probably have warned you that the rotten and acidic odor from Annabel’s puke would ruin your shirt, but he just let himself replace her cheap perfume with your fragrance. The scent of your favorite honey and jasmine conditioner in your hair mostly covered the faint traces of turpentine and linseed oil on your skin.

“Of course I did,” he softly replied. “With your shit sense of direction, you would have ended up in the bottom of the ditch.”

You gasped and lightly pushed him away. “Uhhh, way to ruin the moment!”

Michael snickered at the way your jaw had dropped in shock and betrayal. You then resorted to mockingly punching him in the stomach as he did nothing to stop you. He couldn’t help but look at you in total and utter fondness as he continued to ‘beat him up.’

But in all honesty, Michael didn’t mind helping you. He loved it. He’d rather get Crucio-ed than say it, but you were his favorite person in the whole world. In a desert of fakes and masks of insincerity, you were like gentle rain with your genuine vibrance and rare honesty. He loved how endlessly kind and empathetic you were to others. He just hated it when you granted acts of kindness to the plebes unworthy of you. You’d give the benefit of the doubt to the worst of the worst on campus – Annabel being a case in point.

Remembering the drunk elephant in the room, Michael grabbed your fists and stared at you thoughtfully.

“Seriously, though,” he began, “why are you helping her? I know you told me about ‘girl code’ and all that. But is that seriously it?”

You thumped your head against his chest. “Look, I get it. Annabel is a horrible person, and with how awful she treated me – she doesn’t deserve my kindness, my help, or my pity. But that doesn’t change that it was the right thing to do. And if not us, who knows who would have picked her up? If another guy other than you ‘helped’ her…you do the math.”

A groggy voice broke the two of you apart. “Are you two going to shag? Because I can leave.”

You and Michael jumped apart as you watched Annabel lift herself from the floor and stagger to her feet. Her legs wobbled briefly before giving out, and then she fell to the floor. You turned to Michael and gave him one final hug before seeing him out. He looked disgusted at the girl sitting on the cheap carpet before turning to you, concerned. Mikey asked if you were confident you didn’t need him here to help you.

“I’ll take it from here,” you reassured him. You flexed your arm – 80s jock bully style. “I’m a tough girl. I carry my canvases and textbooks and everything, after all.”

“Okay,” he dragged out the last syllable. “But if you end up putting her down, give me a call, and I’ll help you bury the body.”

“Um,” interjected Annabel, “you know I’m right here, you arse.”

“Hey,” you admonished, “he did help carry you here. He could have left you in that hallway alone.”

“Whatever,” she scoffed. “Probably did it so he could cop a feel, the slimy wanker.”

“Please,” Michael sneered, “as if I’d ever willingly touch someone with a higher body count than Dahmer and Bundy combined. I’m only here because I wanted to help (Y/N) – she’s the one who was worried about your sad self.”

Ugh, this was going to be a long night. You turned to Michael with apologetic eyes and reassured him that he wasn’t a wanker. You promised you’d make it up to him by buying all the Crunchie bars he wanted. Mikey’s eyes softened at your sincerity as he began to walk down the corridor to make the trek to his dorm.

You softly closed your door so as not to cause any further disturbance. When you turned around, you were startled by the dead stare Annabel was giving you. You looked down at your feet as you shifted uncomfortably in your spot. You cleared your throat to try and break the tension.

“Um, soooo…I’m glad you’re awake. You were sitting so still in that hall, I was worried you OD’d,” you nervously joked. But all she did was continue to stare at you. “So, do you have your phone with you? I figured it would be best if you called one of your friends. I’m sure they’re really worried about you. I know I’d be going out of my mind if one of my friends–”

“What kind of fucking game are you playing here?” she snarled. Her large, doe-brown eyes narrowed in anger as you stopped talking.

“Uhhh,” your mind was coming out blank. “Wait, I don’t – I don’t know what you mean?”

Annabel rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t play stupid. Why’d you help me? Did you want to take pictures of me drunk and unconscious?”

Your jaw fucking dropped. “What?! NO! I just–”

“I’m sure that would’ve made some fucking good blackmail material,” ignoring you and continuing, “I can see it: ‘Annabel Williams drunk in the hall after trying to shag fucking sad Ollie.’ You’re so obvious.”

You tried to explain yourself. “Okay, look- I think there’s a big misunderstanding here–”

“Or maybe you want to show the pictures to Felix, not that he’d care or anything. You got him all wrapped up in your little Yankee finger, you know that? It’s so pathetic and sick – it makes me want to–”

“HEY!” you yelled – finally making her just shut UP. You closed your eyes and took deep breaths to calm down. “Look, Michael and I were walking to his dorm when we saw you were sitting in the hallway. I tried to ask you if you had your phone on you and if you wanted me to call anyone, but you were out cold. And I couldn’t just leave you there, okay? That’s dangerous! And I didn’t know where you lived – you know, considering that you hate me–” you cut off your rambling with a deep breath “–so he and I dragged you to my dorm.”

The silence that followed was so stifling you wanted to open a window. Maybe if you let some fresh air in, it might calm the girl down. It would also help diffuse some of the puke odor stinking up your room.

“…Anyway, if you don’t have your phone on you right now, I can always call them myself. Do you remember their numbers? I know you and India are close. Do you think she’s available right now?”

More silence.

You began fidgeting. “I mean, you can stay over if no one is available? I don’t mind since my roommate is sleeping over–”

Annabel interrupted you again. “You’re so full of it. You just wanted to help me? For what? For the sake of being the goody-two-shoes kiss-ass, you’ve always been? Did you want me to bow and worship you?”

“Annabel,” you groaned, “it’s been a really long night, okay? And I don’t feel like arguing when you aren’t sober and in your right mind.”

“Oh yeah,” she bitterly laughed. “Be a pushover, and get everyone to love you. Tell everyone how much of a ‘heinous’ bitch I am. Play the victim – that’s all you’ll ever be. Just go back with your pathetic little nerd friend and be invisible and boring like the goody-goody who thinks she’s better than the rest of us.”

The quiet in the room was surprisingly loud. Shock and disbelief morphed into fury as your fists clenched so hard that your nails left red welts on your skin. Your body trembled in anger as your tongue felt too heavy to express everything you wanted to say.

‘Pushover’ she called you? ‘Play the victim,’ she said?

Who the hell was she to have any right to judge you? Did she have any idea what you’ve sacrificed? How much have you suffered and left behind? Could she even have the slightest decency to understand what you’ve been through? Of what she put you through?

…You know what? …Fuck her. Fuck Annabel Williams and all of Oxford’s elite. They were proof that Michael was right – that doing the right thing meant nothing to them.

Your voice was cold, and your eyes were numb. “…I’m going to take a shower,” you grab a towel and your shower buddy. “I want you to get the hell out of my dorm by the time I get back. Call your friend or don’t? Do whatever the hell you want. I don’t care.”

You slammed the door on your way out.

“Finally,” Annabel thought with some relief, “she’s gone.”

When you left, the room felt ten degrees colder the way the door slammed, and Annabel felt goosebumps form on her arm. This was the worst night of her life. She had never felt so humiliated.

Her mummy told her she was just born blessed because God knew she was exceptional, and she always believed that to be true. For her entire life, she was the girl every boy wanted to bed and the girl every girl wanted to be. She never had to fight for anyone’s attention. Her parents gladly bought her the latest versions of top-of-the-line technology. Her closet here and at her parent’s townhouse in Kensington was filled with designer-brand exclusives and limited-editions. She had everything.

For people like her, life was supposed to be easy. She was born at the top, so she would be there till the day she died.

So why was she losing to you?

When she came to Oxford, she figured it would be as easy as most of her life. She’d spend her time partying and networking with the right people. If she had to blackmail a nerd to take her classes or blow a teacher to give her an “A”? Who would say otherwise?

But then she met Felix Catton and finally felt she had met her match. Finally, there was someone who checked all the boxes: rich, tall, handsome, and fun. That part made Felix the golden sheep who stood above the rest of the flock – he was fun. Not only did he know how to have a good time, he knew how to properly fuck a girl, too.

She was so drunk off the taste of his lips and the feel of him around her – so much so that she broke her golden rule.

“Never fall first.”

Annabel felt herself falling hard for Felix Catton. She thought they were exclusive. He was her boyfriend, and she was his girlfriend. But then…he became distant. He stopped calling he and ignored her when they returned to campus after the break. But then he and she left the bar at Kings’ Crossing, and she was so happy! She wanted to cry when he kissed her hard and ripped her 100 quid top in half.

It didn’t matter if she wasn’t wet when he entered her. It didn’t matter that he didn’t wait for her to adjust when he started to thrust. It didn’t matter when she tried to moan his name; he would cover her mouth with his giant hand to shut her up. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t close to finishing when he came inside her. It didn’t matter when her windpipes were almost crushed when he fell on top of her after finishing.

They were together. He chose her! Annabel and Felix – Mrs. Felix Catton, she could see it now. They’d have a wedding in his house at Saltburn. She would have to meet his parents, but she wasn’t worried – all her flings’ parents loved her! They would be together forever, and nothing would ever–

“(Y/N),” Felix whispered above her – and Annabel’s world completely fell apart.

She immediately shoved his body off hers and hurriedly dressed before getting the hell out of his room. Annabel didn’t bother putting on her shoes before running with tears down her face to her dorm. And when she returned to her single, she flung herself to her bed and cried to sleep. She didn’t bother attending class that week – not when her heart broke.

Felix had been thinking about you – you. He called out your name after finishing. Was he imagining your naked body when hers was under him? Had he been imagining you every time he fucked her?

Annabel smelled Felix’s aftershave and wanted to rip the skin off her body. God, she never felt more like a whore in her entire life.

“God,” she thought, “I was so pathetic! How could I be so stupid to fall for Felix Catton? Why did I trick myself into hoping that we would be together?”

Felix wanted a good girl—like you—the American scholarship student who wanted to paint pretty pictures and was at the top of her classes. The lovely New Yorker who hung around losers and still held your head up high despite every professor thinking you were in over your head to come here. Some pushover bitch who was so pathetic and actually–

The door slammed open again, and Annabel’s pretty sure she’d scream if she weren’t so fucking tired. You came storming in with your towel and shower caddy in your hands, and your eyes were a raging storm while your lips were pursed like you had sucked a lemon. Your nostrils are flaring as you angrily breathe through your nose. Annabel was about to open her mouth, but you menacingly pointed at her with your pointer finger. It felt like forever until you finally opened your mouth.

“Look! We don’t have to be friends and I don’t expect us to be friends – but you know what? YES, I WOULD LIKE A THANK YOU! I dragged your unconscious ass across campus, and you REEKED of vomit and bad perfume! And not to body shame, but you are WAY TOO SKINNY to be healthy to be as heavy as you were when I carried you!”

“Excuse me?!” Annabel sputtered. “Who the fuck–”

“Oh! I’m not done!” you shouted. “I don’t know if you being horrible and a bitch is supposed to be some power trip or some shit, but it’s so cliché! Are we in Mean Girls? Are you Regina George? No, am I Janice from Lebanon? NO! And on that – I have a few bones to pick with you…MISSY!

I–” You pointed to yourself “–am NOT a pushover, okay? I fucking beat your stupid manwhore boy toy like it was goddamn ‘Whack o’ Mole’ for ruining my painting! Pushovers don’t do that! FURTHERMORE – me calling you a ‘horrible person’ or ‘heinous bitch’ isn’t me ‘playing the victim’! You HAVE been a HORRIBLE person to me, alright? And what’s worse – I don’t have the slightest idea why! Was it something I said to you last term? Or were you born a spoilt princess who never had to work for anything in her life because mommy and daddy will always give you everything you want so you could forget that they would probably instead work than deal with their brat? Seriously – what is it? Because you’re driving me CRAZY!”

When you were done, Annabel sat on the floor, completely silent, and stared at you unblinkingly. She hadn’t expected you to come back so quickly – let alone to scream at her. She stared at your huffing and shallow breathing in awe and slight amazement. Your hair looked frazzled from your outburst, and your (e/c) eyes were bright with wild impulse.

Annabel felt her bottom lip quiver and stared at an ugly stain on the carpet. She didn’t want to show any more of herself than she had already. But what the hell? You already saw more of her than most of her so-called ‘friends.’ What was a little more? If she had to show more of the ugliest parts of herself, why not show it to someone she already hated?

Before she could stop herself, Annabel felt her shoulders sag and shake as sobs tore through her petite frame. Tears and snot were running down her face as she furiously tried to wipe them away – if nothing but to try and save some shred of dignity. Annabel was crying so much that she didn’t see the surprised look on your face morph to slight guilt since you thought you may gone too far with your rant. You reached out to tap her shoulder when you heard her speak.

“Why doesn’t he want me?” she sobbed. “What do I have to do to get him to love me?”

If you were taken aback by her crying, you were completely caught off-guard by her questions. You walked over to your desk and grabbed a box of tissues before crouching on the ground. You handed her a few tissues from the box and waved to her face to present them. Annabel noticed how you tried hard not to see how much her hand trembled when she reached forward to grab the tissues from you.

“Who?” you softly asked her. “Are you talking about Felix?”

Annabel blew her nose into the tissue hard. “Who else?! I mean…look at me! Everyone wants me! Everyone – boys, girls, teachers! Do you know how many of my past flings gladly emptied their pockets so I might wank them? But he wants you! What do you have that I don’t?”

Concern and pity shifted to confusion before realization kicked in, and you were so done with this conversation already. Maybe you were a slightly horrible person for this, but you felt so disappointed when Annabel told you that her entire drama with you had been over Felix Catton.

“…That’s why you’ve been tormenting me this entire term so far?” you flatly asked. “Because of Felix Catton?”

“He called out your name–” she gasped a heavy sob “– while he was fucking me! Do you have any idea how that feels?”

“Okay, wow,” you thought, “that’s actually really shitty – fuck.”

“Do you know how humiliating that was for me? He was still inside me, for fucks’ sake! I felt him shrink!”

Okay – that was so much more information about Annabel’s and Felix’s sex life than you ever wanted to know.

You coughed into your hand as your face flushed red. “Oh, um–I’ve never really…done it before. So…I wouldn’t really don’t know how that feels.”

“Ugh, of course, you’re a virgin,” she groaned. “Don’t tell me you don’t drink either.”

When you remained silent, Annabel let out a bitter laugh. “Damn, you think you’re hot shit and everything. But you really are a goody-goody. What – you saving yourself for God or some shit?”

“HEY! Just because I like to keep my head down and not a party and get plastered every five minutes doesn’t make me a goody-two-shoes. I just don’t like the taste of alcohol, and increased chances of lung cancer doesn’t exactly spell out ‘fun’ for me.”

But Annabel ignores your outburst and continues to dismiss you. “Yeah, right. I bet you call your mommy and daddy every night. Do you tell them that you miss them and want to go home? Or do you wish to bake cookies with your mummy as daddy watches the telly?”

Annabel’s taunting is only responded to with silence as she grows confused by your melancholic expression.

“…I can’t call them at all,” you respond. “International calls are too expensive. The best I can do is email or Skype. And planned calls can hardly be reliable since my parents’ schedules are always all over the place with their jobs.”

“When–” Annabel’s voice cracked “– when’s the last time you saw them? In real life?”

“I was supposed to see them during Christmas Break,” you bitterly explained, “but then Felix crashed into me when I was on my way to deliver it. He ruined my painting, and I had to redo it completely, not to fail and completely flush my parents’ money down the drain.”

“I thought you were here on scholarship? Doesn’t that mean you don’t have to pay to come here?”

“I’m here on a partial scholarship,” you explained. “It covers a good part of my tuition, but not all of it – and definitely not for housing and meal plans. Travel expenses alone were so expensive, so I had to leave alone. Mom cried so much at the security checkpoint, and Dad almost didn’t want me to go. I didn’t even want to go. But they wanted me to experience more of the world while I still could.”

“…Do you miss them?” Annabel asked. She felt silly asking a question with such an obvious answer. But, hearing how you talked about your parents crying their goodbyes to you compared to the simple wave she got hers after they dropped her off campus made her feel a deep longing.

You let out a shaky sob. “More than anything. You never realize how much you miss your home and family until an entire ocean separates you.”

Annabel uncomfortably shifted in her spot as she noticed your eyes getting misty. She couldn’t remember the last time she cried over missing her parents and felt that you were being overdramatic. Annabel spent her entire break with her parents at their house, but she couldn’t remember the last time they ate at the same table unless it was for one of her dad’s dinner parties. What did it feel like – to miss and love someone so much after not seeing them for a year?

What did it feel like – to have an entire lifetime of that kind of love?

Does having that kind of love make you?

“…Why did you help me?” Annabel finally asked. She couldn’t bear the tension anymore. “You could have just left me there. Why help me and bring me here of all places?”

“…Because it was the right thing to do,” you explained and shrugged. “You were drunk and vulnerable. Maybe it was fear of being a potential bystander if someone tried to take advantage of you – but I was scared something was going to happen to you. Regardless of my feelings toward you and yours toward me, no one should ever find themselves in a position where if they’re telling the truth, it’s someone else’s word against theirs. I’ve seen it too happen many times already.”

“What do you say in response to that?” Annabel thought to herself – shocked by how genuinely you answered her question. Since you were honest with her, she figured she could at least be honest with you.

“If it were you,” she began, “I wouldn’t have done for you what you did for me.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “you probably wouldn’t – but that’s neither here nor there. Because I’m me, and you’re you.”

“…Are you really not interested in Felix?” Annabel asked. She was surprised by your disgusted groan.

“Oh my god–” you put your face into your hands and loudly groaned “–I don’t understand why everyone has an obsession with this guy.”

Annabel raised her brow. “Seriously?”

“Yes! He’s so gross – I studied in an empty classroom last week. He sat next to me, basically propositioned me, and then put his hand on my thigh! Does that sound like someone I would want to date?”

“You know he’s just doing it to get your attention because he likes you, right?”

You scoffed at her input. “Pffft– and that makes it alright of him to invade my personal space via sexual harassment? I hate how everyone makes excuses for him – and why? Because he’s richer than God and has an ‘alright-looking’ face? So what?”

“Oh, believe me,” snickered Annabel, “he’s more than just ‘alright-looking’ and he fucks as good as he looks.”

You sagely shook your head. “A person like that has nothing to offer himself. He desperately clings to his family’s wealth and the benefits of his status so tightly – and he pretends not to enjoy it, but he’s the type of person to love leeching on someone’s misfortune to feel better about himself.”

You shuddered as you remembered Felix’s constant leering at you since the term began.

“He’s like a vampire – I’ve seen enough of them in high school to recognize them from miles away.”

Annabel was utterly silent at your analysis of Oxford’s Golden Boy. She never considered the possibility of someone out there who didn’t absolutely covet and revere him. She assumed that you were purposely playing ‘hard-to-get’ to get his attention, but maybe you were sincere in his disgust by him.

“Plus, he looks like the type to be absolutely shit at foreplay and only knows how to stick it in.”

Annabel was so caught off-guard by your statement that she immediately burst out laughing. You were surprised by her reaction and started to laugh, too. She was laughing so hard that tears started rolling down her cheeks, and her stomach started to hurt.

“HE IS!” she agreed while nodding. “He does the bare minimum! I’ve been giving him constant blowjobs, and I can count the number of times he’s eaten me out with one hand! The only type of prep he knows how to do is finger me!”

“Oh my god! EW!” you guffawed. “Why did you put up with him for so long?!”

Annabel shrugged. “He’s the most popular guy on campus – even the upperclassmen adore him. I was always the popular girl throughout primary and secondary prep. It just made sense.”

“My parents told me college was all about discovering new things about yourself,” you said. “Maybe…you could do that for yourself.”

Annabel looked wistful before nodding. “Yeah…you know this doesn’t mean we’re friends, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “Please, tonight’s the last night I’m willingly dealing with a demon like you. I’ll stick to forcing Michael to watch my favorite Johnny Depp movies—thank you very much.”

Annabel watched your eyes soften at the mention of your friend…Michael Gravy? Was he the guy who left the two of you together after snarking at her?

…Oh god, it all made sense now.

“Are you and Gravy fucking?” she bluntly asked. She huffed in amusement at how red your face became as you began to sputter.

“WHAT?! No-NO! We’re friends!” you exclaimed before getting all shy.

“You were awfully protective of him a bit ago to be ‘just friends,’” Annabel countered. “Spill it – what’s going on between you two?”

“He’s my best friend,” you explained to Annabel. “He let me stay with his family after I finished repainting my assignment – which was really amazing of him.”

She watched how you smiled when continuing to talk about him.

“I know he can seem a bit odd and rude at first,” you continued. “But Michael is one of the best people on campus. He can be really sweet when you get close to him – especially when he talks about his family. His little sister, Lily, is so adorable! He’s a total nerd but a complete sweetheart when you get to know him.”

Annabel bemusedly watched as you gushed about your ‘best friend.’ It was almost sweet how gone you were for the nerd. You didn’t even realize how gone you were for him. For a bit, Annabel could see why Felix was so enamored with you.

“Well,” she interrupted as she stood up, “I guess your obliviousness to your feelings isn’t any of my business or whatever. Thanks for…helping me – it was really nice of you.”

You warmly smiled at her. “Sure! Do you have to meet anyone tomorrow morning?”

“Uh, no?”

You walked to your closet and grabbed a towel, a worn T-shirt, and old sweats. You handed them to her as Annabel looked at you in confusion.

“Since you’re here,” you began, “and it’s already like…3 a.m. – you might as well shower and stay over since tomorrow’s Saturday.”

“…Why?”

“You still have puke all over you,” you explained, “and it’s getting really hard pretending it’s not extremely gross. Plus, I can’t imagine you’re comfortable right now.”

“What’s with the clothes?”

You shrugged. “Well, I can’t exactly have you sleep in your dress and ruin my sheets! You can shower and sleep on my bed while I sleep on my roommate’s. Now, are you going to take them?”

Annabel hesitated before she took the bundle from your hands. You then opened the door. While holding it, you looked at her as if expecting her to follow you. What confused her most was the way she did exactly that.

While in the shower, she didn’t even mind that you didn’t have any of her usual hair products. Your conditioner looked like it was bought at a cheap dollar store – you didn’t even have a loofah. But when she exited the shower stall before drying herself with your towel and changing into your baggy clothes, she felt calmer than she had these past few weeks. As she crawled under your sheets and comforter, you turned off the night and wished her good night.

Annabel stared at the ceiling for about an hour before she grabbed her phone. She managed to find it while digging through her dress pockets. She was going to wash it when she got back to her dorm. Opening it, she rolled down at the dozens of messages from India and their girlfriends. Her eyes slightly widened at the soft *ping* her phone let out when she got a new message to show it was from Felix.

To her surprise, she didn’t feel anything. She didn’t care he messaged her that he had forgotten their plans. Staring at her screen, she just felt…nothing. So she did the very thing she should have done weeks ago.

She deleted Felix Catton’s number from her contact list.

Annabel slept better that night than she had all term.

After that night with Annabel, life simply went on. She and you weren’t ‘friends’ per se, but she no longer went out of her way to torment you like she had done before. She even told off some of her friends when they talked about you behind your back.

You two weren’t friends, but you hoped that there was at least some fraction of mutual respect. If you couldn’t be friends, then at least you two didn’t have to be enemies – you were happy to settle for being a ‘frenemy.’

You found yourself sitting by yourself at one of the tables in the library. Michael had to meet with one of his teachers about an essay but promised to meet with you as soon as he finished. You were repeatedly listening to Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats” when you heard the chair next to you being pulled out.

Fully expecting it to be Felix, you were ready to tell him to fuck off and bother some other poor soul that needed saving, but you were surprised to find that the person sitting next to you was his cousin, Farleigh Start. He introduced himself by stating his name and giving you a firm handshake. There wasn’t much you could do but reciprocate.

“Quite the save you gave our Annabel,” Farleigh grinned. “Very magnanimous of you, especially considering how she treated you.”

“What do you want from me?” you blurted out. “I’m busy, and I would appreciate it if you just left so I can continue studying.”

You weren’t normally so rude, but this was Felix Catton’s cousin – and if this was a ploy to get you in his pants, you wanted no part of it. But your skepticism only seemed to please the boy sitting beside you more. His wry grin curled into a wide Cheshire Cat smile as he continued to stare at you with eager fascination.

Farleigh started to lean toward you, and you instinctively leaned away from him. You eyed him with extreme caution as if he were a mad scientist and you were a paralyzed specimen. And his eyes looked like he couldn’t wait to cut you open.

“I like you,” he stated. “Let’s be friends.”

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @aemondsbabe, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindno, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss, @immyowndefender, @ilovemydinoboi, @ahristata, @cxp1d, @jinsoulorbitzen12, @temptation-waits, @bollzinurmouth, @jcngw0ns, @seababehh, @destinydestnation, @lankyboi4, @mindless-rock, @cassavacakes, @paradisepoisons, @pansexualpamandabear, @erikasurfer, @lissamans, @cookielovesbook-akie, @thesmutconnoisseur, @izzyisstuff, @lariisouz

Reblog if you liked reading this chapter and want me to continue! Also please comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

#saltburn x reader #saltburn #saltburn crack #saltburn au #michael gavey x reader #felix catton x reader #farleigh catton #farleigh start #venetia catton #oliver quick #michael gavey #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie

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nejiverse · 9 months

Text

LOVE IS FOR FOOLS

Scaramouche

In which scaramouche proclaims he doesn’t care until he does

cw: noneee, mostly word vomit

wc: i forgot

"Do you like me?".

"No".

"Do you have a crush on me?".

"No".

"Will you ever have a crush on me?".

"No".

"You're really mean", you frowned.

You were always annoying him, why would he ever consider you his friend let alone have a crush on you? You always followed him around, ate with him when he ate alone, and lastly you always picked him to do projects with. He didn't understand it at all why you were so infatuated with him.

Scaramouche was a person who enjoyed being alone. Whether that was because he grew accustomed to it, he wasn't sure.

But he found it unusual today that you didn't come over to him during lunch time. In fact, it's been 15 minutes since lunch started and he hasn't seen you, telling himself that he didn’t care, it was just strange.

He irked when he saw one of his classmates he had deemed 'the most annoying' approach him with that look that always seemed to piss him off.

"Hey, Did ya hear?", his classmate poked at him.

"Leave me alone".

"B/n's gonna ask Y/n out!", he wiggled his eyebrows.

As if Scaramouche should care. He folded his arms to further emphasise the fact that he didn't give a shit. Hell, he even slouched back on his chair.

"And?".

"Well....doesn't it bother you?".

"Why should it?", he scoffed. "I couldn't care less".

Scaramouche stood up and left the classroom. He needed some air, and time away from his irritating classmates.

From his peripheral, the purple haired boy saw you talking to some dude who was a year ahead of you two if he remembered correctly.

He furrowed his brows at the sight.

His eyes fell down to the pen poking out of the pocket of your school shirt.

Was that his pen? The same pen he told you to give back when you were done with? He had to get a closer look.

Yes, that was the only reason he went all the way outside and closer to you two.

You averted your gaze from the boy standing in front of you who looked quite eager to hear your response.

I...I don't know what to say", you admitted as your gaze was at your feet. You could see his own feet shuffling closer to yours and you didn't like it one bit, neither did a certain eavesdropper.

Said person scowled. Love was stupid, so so stupid.

"You don't have to say anything Y/n", he spoke softly, a hand coming to your chin forcing you to make eye contact with him.

He didn't even get the chance to lean in when Scaramouche yanked on your hand without uttering a single word, only grumbling under his breath.

B/n was left speechless at the purple haired boy's sudden act and so were you.

You gazed at Scaramouche's hand wrapped around your wrist and raised a brow.

"Why'd you do that?".

"Cause I don't care".

You blinked once, twice. "Huh..".

He looked back at you and stopped in his tracks. "I don't care that he asked you out and I don't care that he was about to kiss you", he huffed.

You snickered. "Oh? Then why did you yank me away?".

You laughed and hugged him, albeit him barely allowing it.

"You do care Scara!".

"Stop abbreviating my name and get off of me!".

If love was stupid like he said it was, then he was a fool.

masterlist :)

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kometqh · 3 months

Text

𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

501st x F!Jedi!Reader General Skywalker clearly wasn't a reliable source of intell, having pointed you and Rex's squad into the icy tumbra of a long deserted planet, however, it was due to his calculated mistake that the Clones were able to reveal your deeply hidden desires. Being stuck in a cave with numerous handsome, attractive men was not on your to-do list, yet you weren't complaining. Word Count: 3028

Warnings: Unedited, random brain rainbow vomit I had whilst practicing writing techniques <3 It's somewhat (quite) spicy towards the end. There is a lot of fluff throughout most of it! A/N: This is mostly just Tup, Rex and Fives x reader as this was a very spontaneous fic T_T pls forgive me.

"General Skywalker said this would be an easy mission," Fives hissed under his breath, the deep, reverbrating sound of his voice lost underneath the wolfish howling of the wind, clusters of snow beating at his helmet. This was supposed to be a quick and easy diplomatic trip, but where did he and the 501st Legion find themselves? Somewhere on a deserted, icy, snowy planet. "My toes are about to fall off!"

"Yeah, he promised us there'd be clear blue skies and hot weather. A beach even!" Echo added on, shrugging his shoulders in defeat. Rather than being on a hot, sandy beach, the brothers had found themselves treading through waist-deep snow, their fingers and toes turning into icicles, their blasters heavy in their grasps.

"I thought this was supposed to be a diplomatic trip, Captain," Fives continued, his voice becoming white noise as Rex all but ignored his brother, gracing him with an occasional hum or grunt, to let him know he was listening. But he wasn't hearing. Rex was also unhappy with the circumstances, but it was his job to do this kind of thing. It's not like the clones could refuse not going on a mission, not going head-first into a battle, so he definitely would have appreciated General Skywalker's honesty, over trickery.

The weather was only getting worse, the wind and snow beating at the men cruelly, the blue paint on their armour completely disappeared under the clusters of snow that had latched themselves onto the clones.

He paused in his tracks, scanning the area through his optical goggles. He spotted something. Something dark, something round. His men stopped behind him, eerily silent as they anticipated their Captain's next words.

Rex, turning to face his brothers, couldn't help the way his shoulders visibly relaxed as he relayed the news, "I see a cave entrance just a couple yards ahead, boys! We will seek shelter there!" He exclaimed, waving his arm, signalling for them to keep going, to keep following him.

In the very back, just behind Tup and Jesse, a lone, female Jedi guarded their backs, one hand hovering protectively over her weapon, the other shielded away in the pocket of her coat. A backpack hung onto her shoulders, the leather material soaked and cold, receiving most of the onslaught of the weather.

Her mind was wandering, body craving to feel the heat of a hot sun glazing against her bare skin, just as Anakin had hinted to. But instead, she was stuck walking through a blizzard, her body cold and tired.

She had also been excited to spend some quality time with the boys from the 501st, whom she had been recently often paired with for missions. The sight of them all relaxing and enjoying their time on the beach, with their tops exposed, tan skin glistening under the sunlight.. Yeah, that would have been a sight worth seeing.

A sudden, much harsher gust of wind jolted her from her thoughts, clumps of snow quickly settling against the icy skin on her face.

Her robes, too, were soaked, struggling to maintain the warmth in her body as she did her best to follow the path created by the clones, snow crunching under her winter boots.

She too wasn't made aware of the true conditions of the mission. She couldn't tap into the force either, to predict or to feel some kind of warning of the mission ahead. What was Skywalker thinking? He was lucky none of her men had fallen! The moment she'd get back, the moment her eyes would land on him, he would be wise to run for the hills. She could imagine the fear in his eyes as she comically choked him out, swaying the male back and forth in a fit of anger.

Relief flooded the squad as one by one, they made their way into the cave, it being cleared by their Captain and medic, Rex and Kix.

Quickly setting camp, the clones hovered around their makeshift fire, some huddled close together, others snuggling under individual, soaked blankets. The snow had penetrated all of their supplies; food, water, tents and blankets. All they could do was hope that the fire would last long enough for the storm to pass, for their blankets to dry out and warm up.

"What the hell was the General thinking?" Fives muttered, his eyebrows furrowed. He rubbed his bare hands together until they were warm enough, and then he shifted closer to the fire.

His feet stung, the feeling just barely coming back to him after that gruelling tread. He was sure if his feet didn't fall off yet, then something else soon would.

You exhaled a heavy sigh, a blanket resting over your shoulders as you extended your palms out towards the fire. Rex had been kind enough to lend you his blanket, noticing that your robes and skirt were practically drenched from the weather. Sure, you weren't dressed for the beach, but you also weren't dressed well enough for a blizzard.

You were lucky to have been warned, or rather told, by Master Kenobi of the true conditions of your mission. If you hadn't been, your troops wouldn't have had enough time to prepare for the weather.

Looking over your squad, you made eye contact with Tup. A worried frown ghosted over his rough features, the creases that you hated so much appearing on his forehead.

Slowly, you made your way over to the trooper, one hand outstretched.

"Tup? Are you okay?" You asked, resting your hand over his shoulder. As if startled, the man looked to you, his brows quirked in surprise.

"G-General? Why do you ask?" He questioned, gaze flickering down to your hand, before coming back up to stare into your eyes. A soft, pink hue dusted over his cheeks, and your heart fluttered at the sight. Sure, he was sweet and kind, he was the shyest of your men. He was almost like a puppy, his chocolatey brown eyes so deep, so sweet, you had lost yourself in them again.

He was the only man who gazed into your eyes long enough for you to drown, a soft smile erupting on your face as you fought your best to not reach up and caress his cheek in your palm.

"General? Are you listening?" He asked, his gloved hands reaching up to shake at your shoulders, gently.

Your lashes fluttered over your eyes, taking in a deep exhale, you shrugged. Were you really okay?

Taking a moment to respond, your gaze flickered up, noticing how wet his hair was.

"Tup, d'you want me to dry your hair?" The words tumbled from your mouth before your brain could finish processing their meaning. Tup's eyes widened into saucers as he stood there, frozen. You had never been so caring to your men, at least, not like this.

Remember that pink hue that dusted his cheeks just a moment ago? Yeah, now that's turned into a beetroot blush, the colour painting his ears, his face and neck in a deep shade of reddish-purple. Would it be okay for you to display such blatant acts of affection? Wouldn't that be against the rules and regulations of the Jedi council? Against the regulations of the GAR? If so, would his brothers snitch?

"S-Sorry, I didn't mean to-" You started, your mouth quickly dropping into the shape of an 'o' as Tup interrupted you.

"General, I would love for you to dry my hair." He said with a soft smile, scratching at the back of his nape.

Realising it was too late now to back out, you gave a small nod of your head before taking his gloved hand in yours, the leathery material scraping nicely against your soft skin, as you led him closer to the campfire.

Motioning for Tup to sit down, you stood directly behind, and, above him, reaching to remove your dry blanket from your shoulders. You didn't have a towel, so a blanket should be a good enough substitute. Your hands reached to remove his hairtie, sliding it over your hand to rest on your wrist, your fingers quickly making their way to masssage Tup's scalp.

As he leaned his head back into your soft hold, Tup couldn't help the relieved sigh that escaped his lips. Your fingernails grazed softly against his skin, tugging gently at his soft curls, sending eletric shivers down the male's spine.

But it was when your hands slid from his scalp, over to his nape and shoulders, applying soft but firm pressure against his tired muscles that the involuntary groan escaped his lips, rumbling deep from within his chest.

Your body stiffened, stopping your ministrations as a familiar spark shot through your heart, right down to your abdomen.

Your eyes, wide and unblinking, stared into Tup's as the colour red flushed his cheeks once more. His eyes searched yours, a worried glint dancing across as he waited for your reaction. His lips stuttered as he was about to apologise, provide an excuse, tell you it was okay if you didn't want to continue.

But the words fell short on his tongue as the corners of your lips tugged upwards, your hands applying the slightest bit more pressure to his sore muscles.

A grunt was stiffled in his throat, his eye fighting hard to stay open, looking anywhere but at your face. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable, give you the wrong idea-

None of his brothers did.

Though a lump formed in his throat as Tup looked around the cave, noticing the numerous lingering gazes of his brothers as they sat there, watching your movements. He could almost feel the jealousy vibrating off of Rex in waves, his gaze hardened as the corners of his lips fought to stay straight.

A smirk tugged at Tup's lips, as he noticed Jesse squint his eyes at him. Deciding to add fuel to the fire, Tup groaned again when your hands pressed against a particularly tense muscle in his shoulder.

"Woah, General, where did you learn this?" He asked, a familiar warmth blooming in his abdomen as your nimble fingers danced across his shoulders, tugging at the black suit he wore, exposed now as his armour rested beside a sleeping bag nearby.

"Oh, you know, just learned bits here and there when I was stationed with Commander Wolffe," You chuckled, wetting your lips with the tip of your tongue, "That man was full of knots in his shoulders." You added, feeling Tup's shoulders relax more and more, until you had mentioned Wolffe. That's when his posture straightened, from a relaxed lean, to a pin-straight sitting up position.

He tilted his head back to look at you, a curious yet worried glint in his golden eyes.

"Were you and Commander Wolffe close, by any chance?" He questioned, his breathing paused.

If you were Wolffe's girl, then he knew the 501st couldn't, wouldn't pursue you.

Or, if you weren't, then they knew at least they could ask the Commander of his previous.. Experiences, with you.

Slowly, you caught onto Tup's drift, and your gaze travelled around the room. Some of the men were fully facing the two of you, legs spread, eyes laser-focused as they listened to your conversation, the cave suddenly, and eerily silent.

A shiver travelled down your spine, and a gentle smirk tugged at your lips.

"Oh, just you know, the occasional date here and there.." You said, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. Your smirk threatened to grow as you heard someone scoff, and you looked up to see Rex rolling his shoulders, a scowl on his face.

"Date? Isn't that, like, forbidden?" Fives questioned across from you, leaning over curiously, his eyebrows raised, resembling the blue markings on his helmet.

A giggle escaped your lips as your hands returned to Tup's hair, suddenly remembering why you were giving him a random shoulder massage. You reached over to grab the blanket Rex had given you, placing soft curls between the two valleys of softness created by your hands, which were hidden underneath the soft cushion.

Your hands brushed through Tup's soft hair, gently dragging the strands through the dry, fuzzy material of your blanket.

"I don't mean a romantic date, Fives, though I wouldn't be opposed to one." You mused, softly tugging at the locks. "I don't particulaly agree with the 'No Attachments' rule. But that doesn't make me less of a Jedi, or does it, do you think?" You questioned, your gaze softening, a small scowl now tugging at your lips.

"Of course not, General," This time, it was Rex who spoke up, albeit too fast for his liking, "You're one of the most dedicated Jedi I've had the pleasure of working with," He stated, soft footsteps making their way closer and closer to you, "Plus, it is human to wish to form attachments." He whispered that last part, now standing directly above you as you twisted Tup's hair into the towel.

Your heart fluttered at the proximity, warmth enveloping your pinkening cheeks.

"Is it now, Rex?" You asked, looking up at him. Your heart palpitated at the close proximity, your hands gliding down to caress Tup's shoulders. Your gaze stayed unwavering, unbreaking as you looked into Rex's deep, honey-gold eyes. The Captain suddenly shifted, breaking eye contact as he stepped back a little.

"I-I believe any of us s-should be able to form attachments," He paused, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips, and back to your eyes, "Romantic ones, especially." A chorus of 'Yeah's' and humms of agreement followed, catching your attention as you looked around.

The atmosphere in the cave seemed to have completely shifted, the sound of howling wind drowned out underneath the loud beat of your heart. You swallowed a forming lump, looking between Rex and his brothers, Tup now stood by your side, sandwiching your body between his and Rex's.

Gloved hands came up to softly caress your shoulders, fingertips lightly tugging at the edge of your collar, grazing the skin underneath.

"What do you think, Commander?" He whispered into your ear, hot breath fanning over your skin.

"Of?" You prompted, turning your head lightly to look at Tup.

"Of close relations between Jedi and their Clones?"

Your eyes widened, feeling a familiar heat rush over your body, and you took inhaled a slow, deep, shaky breath. As you looked between Tup and Rex, the latter had made his way closer to your body, his hands making their way to your hips.

The sound of soft footsteps reached your ears, and you saw Echo, Fives, Jesse, Kix, Dogma and Hardcase making their way closer to the three of you, looking completely entranced by the conversation. You hadn't casted any spells on them, have you?

Your breath hitched in your throat, shivers overtaking your body as someone nuzzled their nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, exhaling with a shaky sigh. As they spoke, your heart fluttered with recognition.

"General, answer the question." Fives whispered, his voice gravelly and deep, one gloved hand gently grasping your chin, twisting it to face him. His gaze flickered to your lips, just mere inches from his own. He could almost feel the taste of you on his tongue. Oh how he wished to kiss you, right then and there. He was so sure you'd let him, too.

Sure, maybe you did fantasise about the men from time to time, when your thoughts weren't preoccupied by ongoing battles and Jedi duties. How you wished to be allowed to form a connection deeper than General and Trooper, but did they?

"I- I.. I don't k-know?" You questioned, a soft whimper escaping your opened mouth, before you knew it, his lips crashed against yours, his hands latching themselves into your hair, pulling you closer, if physically possible.

The kiss was, to simply put it, sweet. His goatee rubbed nicely against your chin, his lips melting together with yours, as if they were always meant to. His tongue prodded at your bottom lip, asking for permission. Slipping in, it danced with yours, hot breaths mingling together as you felt something press up against your front.

Rex.

You had almost forgotten you were trapped between Rex and Tup, too engulfed with the sudden kiss Fives had engaged you in.

The smell of pine and smoke invaded your nostrils, their scents overwhelming, flooding your senses as Fives became rougher, his hands tugging at the roots of your hair. With one hand, you grasped the side of his face, thumb rubbing soothing circles into his rough skin, your breath hitched as a groan escaped his lips.

"Okay, that's enough I think." Kix spoke, the kiss abruptly interrupted as he pulled Fives away by the scruff of his neck.

"General? Are you okay?" Rex's voice was soft as he neared you, his breath fanning over the sensitive shell of your ear.

Inhaling a shallow breath, you grasped his biceps with both hands.

"Call me Y/n.." You whispered, hazily meeting Rex's stare, his eyebrows raised, eyes wide.

"R-Right.. Y/n, d'you want us to continue?" He questioned, bringing a hand to gently clutch your chin.

Your eyes widened as you took in the situation around you; eight men surrounded you, watching. Waiting. Ready to pounce, the moment they received your permission.

And receive it, they did.

With a brisk nod, you allowed your eyes to flutter shut as Rex closed the gap between the two of you, his lips rough but warm as his body pushed roughly against yours, your back meeting Tup's chest in a close embrace.

Your hands rested against Rex's chest, feeling the soft material of his shirt underneath your thumbs. His chest was warm and firm under your touch, the feeling of his heart racing beneath your hand had your own chest swelling with joy. A sigh left your lips as you felt a pair of lips press open-mouthed kisses against the expanse of your neck, a new pair of hands rubbing up and down your hips, encouraging you.

You weren't dreaming, were you? You weren't about to wake up, were you?

Your questions were answered as you felt Rex bite your bottom lip, his hands tugging at the roots of your hair.

No, this definitely wasn't a dream.

And if it was, it wasn't one you wished to wake from.

#star wars clone wars #star wars fanfiction #captain rex x reader #fives x reader #echo x reader #clones x reader #clone wars fanfiction #captain rex #clone captain rex #501st legion #501st x reader #fluff #spice #star wars fluff #star wars fanfic #star wars spice #star wars prequels #jedi

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daycourtofficial · 6 months

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Everything is Not As it Seems - Part 3!

Summary: You’ve been abducted, and the inner circle have to find you as quickly as possible.

Author’s note: Part three baby!! There will be one last part, I really just want to draw out the ending a bit.

(Part 1) (Part 2)

Rhys’s words ring in your ears.

“No that’s not.. that’s not… possible.” You say, thinking about the past month with Azriel. “I’m really good at seeing through glamours, I would have seen.. I would have seen something.”

You back away from them, not knowing what to think. Was this some cruel joke? Some initiation as Azriel’s bride-to-be? Some payback for the two of you keeping them from wedding planning?

Feyre grabs your hands, removing the bracelets and rings from your wrists and fingers. “We believe Eris had Hybern custom make these, to block out your power. We also think he put faebane in your food to keep your powers down.” She pauses, keeping a hold on your hands, gently stroking them with her thumbs. “We also think the faebane was laced to make you more accepting of things - so you wouldn’t question too much.”

Feyre speaks to you so softly, so gently. She knows what it’s like to be disillusioned from the one you love most, but she can’t begin to understand how embarrassed and used you feel.

You look between the two of them, not knowing what to believe. Why would they lie to you? Then again, why would Eris go through all this trouble to marry you?

“I think seeing these might help,” Rhysand replies, pulling out a massive stack of opened envelopes. They were all addressed to you from Eris. “None of them say much - mostly just pleasantries, asking how you are, that sort of thing.” Rhysand hands the stack to you, “but he’s been sending them weekly for a few years now. They stopped arriving the week you were taken.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” you tell Feyre, and Rhys winnows you into your bathroom. You spend the next several hours vomiting, the two of them at your side as you process this.

The entire time you begin to tell them things in-between waves of nausea. They find out you haven’t seen anyone else in the time you’ve been captive, other than seeing the occasional servants and wedding planner. It seems Eris kept you a well-hidden secret.

You tell them about how Eris saw you every day, sleeping in your bed every night. He ate dinner with you every night, telling you how much he adored you. He spoke of his excitement for your wedding, your future children, when you realize something.

“I could never say his name.” You whisper, as you lean against the porcelain toilet, “I would try to call him Azriel but it would never come out.”

You stare at the wall in the bathroom, still digesting that none of it was real. “It all felt so real,” you whisper, the admission making your heart ache. “I feel like a fool.”

“Mother above,” Cassian says, standing in the doorway, a mixture of horror and anger overtaking his features. “I’ll kill him,” he says, coming to wrap you in his arms. He sits down on the ground next to you, letting you crawl into his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck, and just sob.

“Does he know?” you choke out later on, voice hoarse from crying and vomiting and your voice muffled from burying your face in Cassian’s neck. The question had been at the forefront of your mind, but fear keeping it from your lips.

“No, he just knows you were engaged.” Rhys replies, his tone betraying the cool exterior he’s trying to show. Truthfully, all of your friends were heartbroken at this event, heartbroken knowing that they’d bring you home, but that you would never be the same again. Heartbroken that this might keep you and Azriel away from each other.

“I can’t see him,” your voice barely a whisper, “at least not yet. I- it’s - too embarrassing,” you say, looking away from your friends, but still seeing a sliver of pity cross all of their faces at your words.

Azriel had no idea why Rhysand wouldn’t let him visit you, going so far as someone always being on post outside if your door. It was, quite frankly, starting to piss him off. All he wanted was to see you, to make sure you’re okay. As okay as you can be, in these circumstances. He hadn’t even caught a glimpse of you, for mother’s sake.

Not catching sight of you was the only thing keeping him from tearing Eris limb from limb. He just needed to catch a glimpse, then he could tear Eris apart.

Azriel had kept shadows posted to watch the guard change outside your door, and, although he isn’t proud of it, maybe he laced his brother’s meal with some sedatives so he would fall asleep at post outside your door.

Azriel slips into your room, quietly shutting the door behind him, trying not to disturb Cassian slumped outside of your door. He comes to sit in the chair next to where your head lays, waiting for you to wake.

“I do,” he says.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant tells you two. He pulls back your veil, his beautiful hazel eyes turning quickly into amber, his features sharpening. He laughs, the sound dissonant across your ears.

“Oh little fox, if only there was a little shadowsinger who loved you.” Azriel began, his hair turning bright red, his skin paling, his wings shrinking. “It’s too late for that love story, but now ours can truly begin.”

“Eris?” You ask, as the male before you has shifted completely. “Where’s- what happened to Azriel?”

He puts his hands around your face, “he was never here,” and he leans in, kissing you.

You jolt awake, breathing heavy at the dream. You start taking in the room, and someone’s sitting in the chair next to your bed, his wings ducking to appear smaller.

“No no no,” you say, scooting away from him. You look down, seeing the black bed sheets, your black nightgown, and you stop. You look around the room, breathing heavy.

Azriel hears you muttering, “I’m in the night court, I’m here, this is real,” on a loop before he hesitantly approaches.

Your breath hitches, and you hold out a hand, stopping him in place. Your hand is shaking, gods what happened to you? “Tell me something only the real Azriel would know.” You say, with pure conviction on your face, despite the tremors across your body.

He pauses, considering this. “On solstice this past year, Rhys won the annual snowball fight. Cass and I think he cheated, but we have no proof.”

You let your guard down a little. “You’re here right now, visiting me, Azriel. You’re Azriel, spymaster, shadowsinger, my friend. Real or not real?”

Azriel didn’t think his heart could break more, but he just heard it shatter again. What did Eris do to you?

“Real,” he states, hoping that’s the right answer.

He realizes that you can’t keep eye contact with him, but you keep looking at his forehead.

He cautiously sits on the bed, a few feet away from you, extending a hand if you wanted to take it. The nature of your relationship was incredibly friendly, the two of you often seeking out the other’s touch, whether it’s holding hands, an arm around your shoulder, or even late night cuddles. You two have always been incredibly honest and open with each other, which is why Azriel starts speaking.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

And the sob that tears from you pierces his soul.

“Az-“ you choke out, “I have to tell you something. I don’t want to tell you, but I have to.”

He watches you, looking like a cornered animal, afraid that he’d pounce on you the moment he saw an opening.

“Eris, uh,” you say, pausing when you hear Azriel’s growl at the name, “wanted me to marry him.”

You look down at your hands, trying to extend the moment for as long as possible, because everything will change. It’s not just the pain of the rejection that will hurt, but you know Azriel. He’s always so soft with you, and the softness he’ll use to let you down gently will feel like a stab to the heart.

“To get me to do that, he uh. He changed his form,” you say, hands shaking, not wanting to tell him this. “He glamoured himself into someone that I would marry. Someone I wouldn’t question why we had to get married so quickly.”

Azriel was following along, afraid of what you were going to tell him, who you would possibly marry in less than two months given the option.

“We stayed in a cottage I own in Autumn, I haven’t been there in decades, I should have seen a connection, but I didn’t.” You take a large inhale, hoping the words will come out strong and steady. Rip off the bandaid, you think.

“Eris glamoured himself into you, because he knew I’d say yes. He glamoured himself into you because he knew I wouldn’t question a fast engagement and I would marry you, no hesitation.”

Azriel reaches a hand out onto your calf, trying to ground himself in anyway possible. His breath hitches, hoping he isn’t mistaking your words.

“You would marry… me?”

You nod timidly, embarrassment shining through. “I almost did,” you squeak out.

“But that wasn’t me!” It’s a sentiment you’re familiar with now, but it still stings. You physically flinch, your worst fears coming to the surface.

“But I thought it was! Now I have all of these fake memories of a relationship with you that never happened!” Your voice starts getting louder, “I feel so embarrassed! He played me like a fiddle! It’s so obvious how in love with you I am someone pretended to be you and I fell for it! If Feyre didn’t come when she did, I’d be married to Eris right now!” You pause, your voice going soft when you say, “I’m so blinded by you, that I never once thought to question it. I’m embarrassed because I know you don’t feel that way for me, but I fell for the illusion anyway.”

The tears were streaming down your face, now. Azriel was frozen at this admission. The words he so desperately wanted to hear, but not in the context he wanted them. He was stuck in his own thoughts when he heard you say, “can you please leave now? I’ve been uh humiliated enough these past few months, I don’t need it furthered by watching you contemplate how to let me down gently.”

“Sweetheart, I-“

Rhys barges in the room, having heard the commotion. He starts speaking mind to mind with Azriel, telling him to leave or he’ll make him leave. Azriel wants to listen to his high lord, but he quickly grabs your hands and tells you, “I would have fallen for the same trap. No matter the warning bells or questionable signs, you could ask me to marry you right now and I’d find a priestess.” He paused, about to leave, “if you want to call yourself a fool for falling for it, you’d have to call me a fool as well. You could hold a dagger to my heart, and I would say yes.”

Rhys’s power over Azriel finally won out, Azriel’s form folding into this shadow. Now that he got access in, he left a few shadows to keep you company and to send for him when you want to talk again.

Rhys comes over to you, and holds you while you cry. “Rhys, I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

#acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #ahhhhh!!!! what do we think???#azriel angst

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multi-fandomfuckboy · 4 months

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Stranger Than Fiction

Part 25: Merry Christmas

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

Part 1,... (Masterlist)...Part 25, Part 26 (Coming Soon)...

AN: I'm alive. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I hope you guys like it! Word Count: 4,362 Warnings: alcohol, vomit

It takes you more than 5 minutes to collect yourself enough to leave the bathroom. When you do finally leave, it feels like you're still in a fog of dream, nothing really feels real. It isn't until you’re seated in the library with Nancy, reading the same line in your textbook for the 10th time, that her question finally snaps you out of it.

“What is that?” She asks, her eyes narrowed on the skin peaking out around the collar of your neck. She extends a hand, moving to pull the collar of your shirt away from your neck.

“What?” you ask, instinctively pulling away, your hand moving to cover the sensitive bit of skin you know Billy had in his mouth earlier. Nancy’s eyes stay on you, her investigative brain working through something.

“Did you bump into something or…” Her eyes widen in realization. “Oh my god is that a-” Your eyes bulge in panic.

“Hush! Lower your voice!” you hiss, pressing your palm harder to your neck as if that will make the blemish disappear. You glance around the library that is mostly empty except for one or two students minding their own business.

“Is that really a…” Nancy glances around as well, leaning in closely and mouthing the word. “Hickey?” You don’t know what to say. Is it? You didn’t think to look at yourself in the mirror before exiting the bathroom. It’s not like you’ve ever been in this situation before. You don’t think they make a handbook for this type of thing that would give you tips like ‘always check for hickeys’. Nancy must take your silence as confirmation, her surprised expression shifting into a wide grin.

“Oh my god! You have to tell me everything! I didn’t even know you were talking to anyone!” She gushes, closing the book in front of her and leaning in. You wish you could just disappear. “Who is it? It must have happened recently. Is that why your face was all red when you got here?” Your heart skips a beat, why did she have to be so observant?

“I- uh-” you stammer, struggling to think of anything to say that isn’t the truth. You can’t tell her what happened, or who it happened with. “I can’t say.” you blurt out, lowering your eyes from her bright smile.

“Come on!” she pleads. “I promise I won’t tell anyone, I’m just surprised you are actually talking to someone.” She explains. You feel a stab of indignation at that. Why is it so surprising? Are you so undesirable that it seems impossible someone would want to press you against a bathroom stall and-

“It’s really nothing Nance, just drop it.” You bite back, some of your frustration leaking into your voice. You keep your eyes on your textbook, buttoning your shirt up to ensure the skin is covered. She seems to take the hint, sighing but leaning back in her chair.

“Okay, you don’t have to tell me.” You’re relieved that she’s stopped pushing. “But at least let me cover it up for you. Your mom will have a cow if she sees that on your neck.” She tells you, reaching into her purse to pull out her compact.

You let her cover the mark. When she’s done she offers you her mirror to admire her handiwork. You can barely see the purple mark under the light sheen of makeup, to anyone else it would just look like a shadow.

“Thank you Nancy.” You tell her genuinely, handing back the mirror. You try to ignore the pang of guilt you feel having to keep things from her. But it really is for the best.

“It’s no problem.” She smiles, packing away her things. “I got a lot of practice when I was with St-” She catches herself, her smile falters and she keeps her head down. You clear your throat, not wanting her to dwell on the memory.

“Are you going to Tina’s tonight?” you ask, moving to pack up your own things. Her eyes dart to you, once again surprised.

“Yea. Are YOU going to Tina’s tonight?” she asks, her brows drawing together. You shrug, trying to look nonchalant.

“I was thinking about it.” you tell her, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“Alright, who are you and what have you done with my friend?” she asks, grabbing you by the shoulder and giving you a playful shake. You can’t help but chuckle. “I thought I was going to have to kidnap you to get you to go. I basically had to bribe Jonathan to get him to agree.” she explains, linking her arm with yours as you both head towards the exit. “Do you need a ride? I can get Jonathan to-”

“No, I have a ride.” you tell her, purposely leaving out the fact that it’s Steve. You don't want to make things more awkward. She glances at you out of the corner of her eye.

“Would your ride happen to be the mystery man who was sucking on your neck earlier?” She asks, causing you to let out an embarrassing sound while shoving her away.

“Oh my god, Nancy!” you exclaim, the heat returning to your face. “It’s not like that.” you insist, giving her a glare. Nancy only smiles to herself, continuing down the hall.

“I’m just a naturally inquisitive person, you should know this by now.” She chides you, a slight skip in her step. You have to roll your eyes. She truly was too nosy for her own good.

“I swear that curiosity is going to get you in trouble one day.” you tell her, pulling your jacket closer around you as she opens the doors, a gust of winter air bursting in.

“But today is not that day.” She says with a smile, offering you a wave as she rushes to Jonathan’s waiting car. “I’ll see you tonight!” She calls, climbing into the car. You wave to both of them as they pull away from the school.

You hesitate for a moment, but it's long enough for thoughts of Billy to fill your mind. You shiver at the memory as well as the chill in the air.

“Fuck.” you grumble, slinging your bag from your shoulder to pull out a slip of paper. You quickly scribble a note for Steve explaining that you are going to walk home and that you would see him at 8 to head to Tina’s, wedging it in the door on the driver side.

You walk home in record time. Your stride hurried, moving quickly, your sneakers eating up the pavement. It’s still not enough to chase the thoughts of Billy from your mind.

When you get home you busy yourself with cooking and starting on the laundry, anything to keep yourself busy. You tell your mom that you’ll be going out to a party with Steve tonight, earning a raised eyebrow and a knowing look. You don’t have the energy to scold her for her obvious thoughts about you and Steve. It’s really only gotten worse since Nancy and Jonathan officially started dating. Your mom is convinced that the two of you are just waiting a respectable amount of time before making it official. You really can't blame her for thinking that, he’s quickly become one of your closest friends and most of your time is spent together. To anyone else, it makes perfect sense.

8 o’clock rolls around and you’ve come to the conclusion that hiding a pistol under your christmas sweater won’t work. You settle on strapping a knife to your ankle, the little voice in your head not allowing you to leave unarmed… just in case.

Steve is in high spirits when he pulls into your driveway. He leaps out of the car to show you his obnoxiously decorated Christmas sweater. You pretend to shield your eyes from the gratuitous amounts of glittering tinsel adorning him, the light from his headlights reflecting off the multiple ornaments dangling from him. He chatters the whole way to the party. You’re thankful for the distraction, it’s harder to worry with Steve explaining how he made his sweater with the old Christmas decorations he found.

But, it’s impossible for you not to think about the last party Steve dragged you to. It’s crazy to think that was only a few weeks ago. Your chest tightens at the memory of Nancy drunkenly accusing you of killing Barb. The pain and guilt stab at the wound in your heart, reminding you of its permanence.

“We don’t have to go, you know?” Steve's voice jolts you from your memories. The car is parked on the street across from the already bustling party. Steve watches you, his eyes filled with concern and understanding. He offers you a small smile. “We can always rent Rudolf or something and-”

“I’m good Steve.” You cut him off, placing your hand over his and giving it a light squeeze. He immediately turns his palm into yours, interlocking your fingers. “And I desperately need a drink.” You smile, only half joking about that. Steve returns your smile, bringing your hand to his mouth placing a quick kiss on your knuckles. Your heart leaps.

“Now that’s the Christmas spirit!” He lets go of your hand before your blush can spread. He’s always doing things like this. You know it’s just how he is, always touching, playful, flirty. You sometimes can’t help your immediate reaction though.

The two of you climb out of the car, crossing the street. The house is filled with what seems to be the majority of the upperclassmen, upbeat Christmas music pouring from every window. Steve slings an arm across your shoulders as soon as you step inside, keeping you close to his side as he navigates to the kitchen.

“Merry Christmas!” He yells over the noise, pressing a cold beer into your hand. He taps his can against yours before popping the top and chugging. He finishes his drink before you’ve even taken a sip immediately reaching for another.

The two of you talk and drink, Steve finishing his drinks far faster than you. It’s impressive, he finishes three in the time it takes you to work through one. By the time he tosses away his 7th empty can it’s stopped being impressive and started being concerning. He’s still smiling and laughing, giving a lively (but tone deaf) rendition of ‘Jingle Bells’.

Then Nancy and Jonathan arrive. Steve pretends not to notice but between drinks you notice his eyes flickering to them. His drinks start coming faster, his laughter louder, his eyes glazed with a distant look. At one point he stops completely, he’s hazy eyes drifting over the crowd until they find what they are looking for. Nancy and Jonathan stand against the far wall, tucked away from the jostling crowd, whispering to each other like they are the only two in the room.

All the joy leeches from Steve’s face, his eyes falling to the half finished drink in his hands. You see the muscle in his jaw tick before he brings the drink to his lips, draining the remainder.

“Hey, do you want some water or something?” You ask, setting down your own drink. His gaze turns to you, struggling to focus.

“I’m fine.” He slurs, tossing away another empty can. He sways slightly with the motion, you quickly grasp his shoulders to steady him.

“You don’t look fine, Steve. I think you should take a break.” You tell him firmly, keeping your hands on his shoulders. He drunkenly smiles down at you.

“You’re so nice. Such a good friend.” he coos, swaying closer to you. “You’re the best.” he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug, lifting you off the floor.

“Whoa!” You exclaim, your fists gripping his shirt tightly. He beams up at you, still smiling stupidly.

“You should come to Colorado with me. We can both go! My parents won’t even care, they never do.” He says excitedly. You know he’s talking about his family’s annual ski trip. He told you that they go every year for ‘Family time’, joking that it only lasts about a day. He’s been dreading it for the past week.

“Steve come on, you’re drunk.” you say, pushing on his shoulders slightly to see if he will set you down. His arms stay firmly locked around you. Glancing around you notice a few pairs of eyes on the two of you, causing your cheeks to burn.

“I can teach you how to ski! We can build snowmen and drink hot chocolate!” He continues, spinning you around a few times causing your heart to leap in your chest.

“Steve! Put me down!” you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you as he spins you again. He loosens his arms slightly, allowing you to slide down him until your face is level with his. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, his nose only an inch from yours.

“I-” Steve opens his mouth again but quickly closes it, a shudder running through him violently enough you feel it. He finally lowers you all the way back to the floor, his complexion suddenly looking pale. “I think I’m gunna-” he’s cut off by a heave, his body doubling over. You jump away, grabbing his arm and hauling him to the bathroom. You get him to the toilet just in time for him to empty the contents of his stomach into the bowl.

Kneeling next to him you place a comforting hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles up and down his spine. When it feels like he’s gotten it all up, his body sags one arm on the toilet seat, his head pressed into the bend of his elbow.

“I’m going to get you some water and then I’m going to take you home, okay?” you tell him. You only receive a grumble in response. Slipping out the door, you close it behind you. The party continues outside, chattering, dancing, drinking.

You move through the crowd, retrieving a red plastic cup from the kitchen and filling it at the sink. You pause for a moment, you're not sure why, but when you glance around the room of gyrating teenagers that's when you see him. Billy.

He’s across the room, his normal crowd of acolytes surrounding him. You’re not sure why you thought he wouldn’t be here, a small part of you is stung that he didn’t say something earlier. He smiles, flashing his perfect teeth as he talks to Tommy and Carol. You see the people around him laughing at whatever he’s saying.

Like he can feel your eyes on him, he glances up. His eyes meet yours, sending a jolt through you. What happened this afternoon in the bathroom flashes through your mind with vivid clarity. You can almost feel it, his body pressed against you, his hands in your hair, his mouth… Your hand drifts to the spot on your neck where you know his mark still resides, hidden under the high neck of your sweater. His eyes track your movement, something like hunger flickering across his face.

A girl standing next to Billy slings her arms around his neck, pressing her chest against his as she grins up at him. Billy’s gaze breaks from you, his focus turning to the girl hanging on him. He smiles at her, his hand going to her waist.

Right.

You hate the sting you feel at the sight, immediately turning back to the bathroom. You silently curse yourself for even entertaining the idea that you and Billy… You stop that thought before it can even form.

“Is he okay?” Nancy’s voice startles you. You hadn’t noticed her standing next to Jonathan in the hallway until she had spoken. Glancing towards the closed bathroom door you know she’s worried. Jonathan places a comforting hand on her shoulder. For some reason it irritates you.

Steve is sick, drinking himself into numbness because of them. He manages to hide it so well normally but you know it hurts him. Is hurting him.

“He’s fine.” you say with your best approximation of a smile. “I’m just going to take him home.” you tell them.

Nancy nods, glancing to the bathroom again then up at Jonathan.

“We could help you get him home.” she offers, Jonathan nods to confirm.

“No, no, that’s okay.” You say. “I haven’t really been drinking so I’ll drive him in his car.” you explain. You don’t think Steve is ready to accept help from the two of them, yet. You smile sadly at Nancy. You know she wishes things were different, you do too. Maybe one day it will be, when Steve’s heart has time to heal.

“I’ll see you around Nance.” You say, offering her a reassuring smile. She nods in understanding. “Enjoy the party. Merry Christmas guys.” You tell them, Nancy pulls you into a quick hug that you carefully return trying not to spill the water. The two of them return to the party as you break away.

When you get back into the bathroom Steve has slumped back to sit against the wall, his head hanging between his knees. He’s pulled off his Christmas sweater and thrown it into the bathtub, leaving him in a plain white t-shirt.

“Hey champ, you feeling alright?” You ask, walking to stand over him.

“I feel like shit.” He grumbles, leaning his head back against the wall, his eyes pinched closed. “I got vomit on my sweater.” He tells you. You can't help but chuckle at his childish tone.

“I got you some water.” You tell him, offering him the cup. His eyes squint up at you as he takes the water, closing them again as he drinks.

“Thanks babysitter.” He mumbles, setting the empty cup down next to him.

“You’re welcome. Now come on, I’m taking you home.” you tell him. He doesn't protest as you grab his arm, helping him to his feet. He tells you to leave the handmade sweater despite your attempts to pick it up. Eventually you agree to abandon the monstrosity because it would be too hard to clean vomit from the tinsel. He sways, leaning heavily on you as you lead him out of the bathroom. You manage to get him to the car, helping him into the passenger seat. You swipe his keys from his pocket before buckling the seatbelt across his lap.

“At least buy me dinner first.” He manages to slur, a crooked smirk on his lips. You roll your eyes at his drunken attempt at flirtation.

“Alright lover boy, settle down.” You tell him, earning what you assume was supposed to be a wink but looks like a facial spasm. You laugh lightly, closing the door.

Looking back to the house you notice a lone figure standing in the shadows along the side of the house. You can see the glow of a cigarette burning in the darkness. You know it’s Billy. It’s alway him. It's like your gut has a 6th sense when it comes to knowing when he's around. Gripping the keys tightly you turn on your heel walking around the car to climb into the driver seat. Ignoring the feeling of his eyes following you.

The drive to Steves’ is uneventful. Christmas music playing softly on the radio, Steve humming drunkenly along with them. It gives you time to think. Unfortunately, you immediately think of Billy. You grit your teeth, your hands tighten around the wheel causing the leather to creek. You force yourself to take deep steadying breaths. For some reason the hole in your heart feels especially big.

Pulling into Steves’ driveway you put the car in park, hopping out and heading to the passenger side to help Steve. He groans when you open the door, letting the cold air in.

“Come on buddy.” you say, unbuckling him and trying to pull him from the car. Stve pulls back, resisting.

“I don wanna.” he slurs, curling away from the frozen air. You pull him harder, finally getting his legs out of the car.

“Steve, if you get out of the car, I’ll make hot chocolate.” you try to bribe him. He perks up slightly at that.

“With marshmallows?” he asks, looking up at you with the most heartbreaking puppy dog eyes you have ever seen. You note to yourself that alcohol makes his big brown eyes even more pitiful.

“Of course with marshmallows.” you promise him. He smiles happily, finally allowing you to pull him from his seat, slinging one of his arms over your shoulders to guide him to the house. You practically drag him up the front steps, unlocking the door with his keys. There is no way you are getting him up the stairs to his room like this, You settle for the living room, helping him settle on the couch as gently as you can. His head flops to one side, mumbling something under his breath.

You head for the kitchen, filling the kettle on the stove with water and turning on the heat. You gather your hot chocolate materials and grab two mugs from the cabinet scooping nesquik powder into both. You stand at the counter, bracing your hands in front of you as you wait for the water to boil.

You hear Steve’s shuffled footsteps coming from the living room, into the kitchen,

“I’m just working on the hot chocolate.” you say, keeping your back to him grabbing the bag of marshmallows.

You jump slightly when you feel him at your back. His chest is nearly touching you, his arms braced on either side of your hips. Most likely to keep him from falling over but effectively trapping you against the counter. His breath tickles the back of your neck as he lowers his head to rest on your shoulder. You wonder briefly if he can see your scars sticking out from the neck of your sweater.

Your heart leaps into your throat and you swallow past it, focusing on the bag of marshmallows clutched in your hands. You wait, unsure of how to move with him this close. If you push back even an inch your back will be pressed flush against his chest. Finally he speaks, barely a whisper.

“What did I do wrong?” His voice is thick, heavy with emotion. You see his hands shaking as they clutch at the counter. Your heart constricts. “I loved her so much. What’s wrong with me?” He asks, his voice cracking. He presses his forehead harder against your shoulder, you feel his tears soaking through your sweater, his shoulders beginning to shake.

“Oh Steve.” You say quietly, finally turning to face him. Your hip brushes against his, your lower back pressing against the counter as you look up at him, taking his face in your hands. He keeps his head bowed, his chin quivering as fresh tears well up in his eyes. You lean forward, holding his gaze, wiping away the tears racing down his cheeks. “Hey, listen to me. There is nothing wrong with you Steve.” you tell him firmly, willing him to believe you. He leans into your touch, his breathing shallow as it ghosts along the inside of your wrist. He sniffles gently, both of his hands moving to your hips gripping you tightly like you might slip away if he doesn't keep hold of you.

“I think you’re my best friend.” He mumbles, turning his face slightly into your hand pressing a light kiss to your palm. Your heart breaks for him. You once thought Steve Harrington had a million friends and you couldn’t possibly be one of them. But here you both are, broken, damaged, scared, and together.

“You're my best friend too.” You reply quietly, gently brushing his hair from his forehead. He holds your gaze, his brown eyes warm and kind as they watch you. You hate seeing him like this. He hides it so well but you know that this part of him is always there, in the back of his mind, whispering, doubting, telling him there is something wrong with him. Never good enough.

One of his hands comes up to take yours, pulling it from his face down to his chest. He holds your hand there, flat against his chest where you can feel his heart beating. He watches you, like if he holds your hand there you will be able to feel the cracks in his heart. The beat is strong and steady, despite how broken it is. He leans in slightly, lowering his head to press his forehead against yours. You both stand there for a moment, in the silent kitchen, just holding each other.

The sound of the kettle whistling breaks the two of you apart. You quickly pour the water into the mugs, mixing them, before adding the marshmallows. You ignore the slight shake in your hands. Steve doesn't seem to notice when you hand him his mug, slowly shuffling back to the living room. The two of you settle onto the couch, Steve pulls your legs over his lap, slouching down into the cushions as he blows on his coco. The two of you sit in comfortable silence sipping on the warm drinks. After a few minutes, Steve sets his drink down and lays down horizontally on the couch, his head resting on your lap.

Without thinking you gently brush your fingers through his hair. He sighs, leaning into your touch. His breathing evens out and he’s soon asleep. You are the furthest thing from sleep. When you finish your hot chocolate, and Steve is quietly snoring into the couch cushions, you stand from the couch and put on your shoes.

As quietly as you can, you fill a glass of water and leave it on the coffee table next to some tylenol for Steve. Then, borrowing one of Steve's large winter jackets, you bundle yourself up and step outside, making sure the door is locked using the spare key hidden under the mat.

Taking a deep breath of the cold night air, you exhale into the darkness before heading towards the street.

AN: Hope you guys enjoyed that! Another party ending in tears, these idiots just don't know how to have a good time.

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helloalycia · 2 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑

two / masterlist / wattpad

summary: when you break your arm in the plane crash, Jackie seems to be helping you out more than usual and you're left wondering why.

warning/s: mentions of a plane crash, amputation, broken bones.. the usual warnings that come with Yellowjackets lol.

author's note: this has been ready for a while now, as have a few other things whilst i work on some old requests. sorry for the delay with everything - i’ve been very busy, but i hope you like this two part jackie imagine :)

I could hear screaming and shouting, there was smoke everywhere and, despite my confusion, I knew I needed to get out of here before the smoke suffocated me.

Clipping off my seatbelt, I scrambled out of the aisle and briefly looked around, unable to make sense of anything, and then my head was spinning and I couldn't stay here any longer. Fresh air. I needed to breathe and then I could work out what was what.

Following the sound of screaming seemed counterproductive, but that was the way out, so I dragged my body – which felt like it had been thrown around in a blender – out the back of the plane and to... the middle of the forest?

The team. Some of them were running around, doing all sorts I couldn't seem to focus on, whilst others were bent over, catching their breath, appearing dazed and confused like me. I didn't get long to think about how I'd ended up here when, suddenly, someone shoved into me from behind and I fell forward, landing right on my outstretched arm.

A scream escaped my lips at the pain that struck, it breaking through the fog of confusion. I squeezed my eyes shut, tears pricking them instinctively, and tried to breathe through the pain. Pushing myself up with my other hand, I grimaced at the slight movement of my left arm, which had to be broken considering I couldn't do anything with it.

It wasn't until after all the chaos, after everybody had stopped screaming and vomiting and crying, that the realisation that our plane had crashed hit us. And by then, I was too preoccupied with my broken arm. Imagine coming out of a plane crash unscathed, only to get pushed down and left with a broken arm. Very stupid, indeed.

Surprisingly, Misty was the only one who could work under pressure, barely fazed by everything happening and instead tending to everyone's injuries as quickly as she could. Upon realising I'd broken my arm, she immediately made me her best attempt at a splint using some sticks and an old ripped shirt, as well as helping me into a makeshift sling using the same ripped shirt. Given the circumstances, it was as good as a cast, but she didn't know the extent of the damage and I couldn't do anything more.

The first two days were a struggle, mainly because nobody knew what to do nor where to go. That was when the horrible acceptance of losing several members of our team, including one of our coaches, hit everyone hard. We all pitched in to bury them, though I wasn't able to do much with my arm, and held a funeral for them.

After the funeral ended, everybody stuck together in the vicinity of the crash. A few lingered away, probably trying to figure out where the hell we were, but I just wanted a sense of familiarity and stayed to open my suitcase which I'd luckily found. Unfortunately for me, the zipper required two hands, and only one of mine seemed to be available right now.

"Hey."

I sighed, looking up to see Jackie Taylor, the soccer team captain, standing there with her arms hugging herself. I hadn't spoken to her properly since before we set off, she'd mostly just stuck with Shauna, her best friend.

"Hey," I greeted, unsure what she wanted.

She nodded to my terrible sling. "How's your arm?"

"Very painful," I admitted, "but coach literally lost his leg, so I can't complain."

She frowned at my words, but it wasn't exactly an exaggeration. Misty had quite literally chopped Coach Scott's leg off when he got it trapped under the wing of the plane, and it wasn't an easy thing to deal with physically or mentally. A broken arm was nothing compared to an amputation.

"How are you?" I asked. She didn't look hurt, just tired and scared like the rest of us.

She shrugged helplessly, and I didn't need any elaboration. I nodded, acknowledging her, and then she said, "Do you need help with whatever you're doing?"

I looked down, remembering the dumb suitcase I couldn't open. "That would be great actually, yes. Can you hold it whilst I unzip it?"

She nodded and kneeled down, acting as my other hand whilst I unzipped my suitcase. It was a relief to finally open it, seeing everything was as I'd left it before we boarded the plane. That felt like a lifetime ago now.

"If you need help with anything else, just ask," Jackie said, making me look up to see her watching me.

Grateful, I offered her a small smile. "Thanks, Jackie."

She returned the smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. She'd been the first to offer her help in the first place, since everyone was preoccupied by their own trauma, so I appreciated it. Truthfully, the last person I expected to offer help was Jackie, since she usually thought of herself first.

"You should get some medication off Misty," she added. "It'll help with the pain."

I swallowed hard, smile fading. "Right. Thanks."

She nodded and left, glancing at me once more as she did. I didn't really question it as I looked back at my suitcase, distracting myself from the pain.

Later that day, Misty found me instead, immediately pouring out the medication she'd collated from everyone's suitcases in front of me.

"Misty, what are you–?"

"I've got some pills for you," she said nonchalantly.

"Oh, my arm doesn't hurt that much," I lied. "Coach needs–"

"There's enough for Ben, silly," she said with a laugh, making me quirk a brow. "Besides, it's not for your pain, though it will help with that, it's for the inflammation. Without surgery, that's gonna take a while to heal and anything we have can help."

I sighed, nodding. "Alright. Thanks."

"I'll give you them every dose," she said, before holding out two pills. "Here you go."

I silently accepted them, knowing they'd help but feeling bad that I'd be taking them when Coach Scott needed them more.

—

Finding the lake and the cabin was a lifesaver, literally. We needed water and somewhere to sleep that wasn't so out in the open, and I was already struggling to sleep as it was so at least being inside made it a little easier.

Oddly enough, over the next few days since moving into the cabin, I'd noticed Jackie staring at me. If I ever caught her eye, she'd look the other way or flash me a smile before awkwardly doing something else. I wasn't sure what was up, and it only became more questionable when she'd help me out if I needed it.

There was one time when I was trying to pull my shoes on, but struggling to tie the laces with my one good arm.

"Here, I got it," she said, coming out of nowhere to lean down in front of me and take over.

I watched her with curiosity, letting her tie my laces. She must've caught me staring as she looked up, eyes bright as they met mine.

"What?" she asked, standing back up.

I shook my head. "Nothing... thanks."

She nodded, smiling a little before leaving me be. And that wasn't it. Other times I'd be trying to carry something and she'd take it from me without a word, or I'd be pulling on a shirt and she'd quite literally help me into it. It was odd, because she'd never paid me any mind before, and wasn't very helpful to others. The other girls aided me when they occasionally saw me struggling, but not as much as Jackie.

Another time, I was struggling to sleep in my makeshift bed on the floor of the cabin. Everybody had fallen asleep hours ago, but my movement was restricted because of my arm and the shuffling I was doing was only bothering me more.

"You move a lot," a voice said in the firelight, startling me.

I looked over the room, past my sleeping team members, and saw it was Jackie laying on her side next to Shauna but facing me.

"Sorry," I mumbled guiltily. "Did I wake you?"

She shrugged, not answering my question, before saying, "Try elevating your arm."

"What?"

"That's why you can't sleep, right?" she asked.

I blinked, surprised she'd even noticed. "Yeah."

She sat up slowly, stretching, before crossing the room to grab what looked like a jacket. My eyes followed her as she moved, then she rolled it up before kneeling down beside me and placing it underneath my bad arm. I winced as she did so carefully, glancing at me apologetically, but then I relaxed my arm on top of the jacket and breathed out slowly.

"Is that better?" she asked quietly. "Won't be touching the ground now."

I nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, Jackie."

"No problem," she said, before returning to her bed. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," I replied, very tired and very confused.

That was when I knew I needed to ask her why she was being so considerate, so out of character, at least to me anyway. The next morning, after I'd done the one thing I could do with my arm which was collecting water from the lake when we needed it, I was bringing it to Akilah who was boiling it over the fire. Unfortunately, I tripped over a stone on the way, almost dropping the bucket. Jackie came out of nowhere, taking it from my hand and leaving it with Akilah before returning to me.

"You okay?" she asked with a raised brow, hand wavering over my arm.

I tilted my head curiously. "I– yeah. I just..."

She smiled with confusion, shaking her head. "What is it?"

I stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "Why do you keep helping me? Checking on me?"

She scoffed playfully, looking away before saying, "I'm still your captain. Gotta make sure the team's okay, right?"

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, but I didn't have anything else to believe, so I gave in with a nod. "Yeah..."

"Take it easy," she said, eyes flickering to my arm before she left me.

—

Since we'd been stranded here, I'd only rinsed off in the lake once. That was a week ago when we found it, but I knew I needed to bathe properly and, after taking my shower gel, shampoo and conditioner, I headed for the lake. Washing my body was a struggle because of my arm, which had swollen so much to the point that even accidentally grazing my body with it sent a shot of pain in me.

I managed to wash my body the best I could, getting my tee-shirt sling wet but unable to do much else, then struggled to wash my hair. It was stupid, the fact that I couldn't even open a bottle of shampoo with one hand and squeeze it out. So much that I got overwhelmed with how useless I'd been feeling lately and threw it behind me onto the shore. Sulking, I stayed sitting in the water, submerged up to my legs in my bra and underwear.

I missed home. I missed my mum and my dad and my sister. I missed playing soccer. I even missed school. But most importantly, I missed having two working arms and not constantly being in pain. The longer we stayed out here, the more we established a routine, the less likely it felt we would be rescued. It was all piling on top of me, my uselessness being the cherry on top.

Staring out into the horizon, I frowned. Ten more minutes must have passed with me giving up on washing my hair when I heard footsteps not far behind me. I didn't bother turning around, but then whoever it was called me.

"Hey!"

Sighing deeply, I glanced over my shoulder, so fed up with everything that even my usual surprise at Jackie's presence didn't affect me.

"You not coming out?" she asked, stood at the edge of the water, hands on her hips.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and ignored her, looking forward again. Maybe she'd get the hint and leave me alone. Of course, she didn't.

"What's wrong?" she asked, and I pulled my knees up to my chest, hugging them.

"Nothing," I said, voice muffled.

I heard her sigh from behind me before her footsteps approached me, her feet splashing in the water.

"I'm bathing," I told her knowingly. "A little privacy would be nice."

She snorted with amusement before I heard her shuffling. Confused, I turned around and saw her pulling off her shorts before throwing them onto the rocky shore with her slippers, leaving her in her underwear and tee shirt.

"What are you doing?" I asked, puzzled.

She ignored me, instead grabbing the shampoo bottle I'd thrown back. Glancing at it and to me, she quirked a brow sarcastically. "This yours?"

I rolled my eyes and faced forward again, not bothering to acknowledge her presence as she seemed to be approaching me again. Only when she stood in front of me, blocking my view, and kneeled down to look at me was I forced to meet her gaze.

"D'you need help?" she asked softly, considerately.

Embarrassed, I looked down to my knees. Was it that obvious that I was struggling? Why was she the only one to check on me? The only one to notice? Why did she even care?

"Will you let me help you?" she asked when I didn't speak, and I finally looked up.

"Why?" I asked helplessly. "What's the point?"

She sat down cross-legged, unbothered by the water that was lapping against the bottom of her shirt. "For one, the smell in the cabin would go down significantly."

Realising she was joking, humour sparkling in her earth-coloured eyes, I scoffed and looked the other way. She began to laugh before patting my knee.

"Come on," she pleaded, laughter fading into a hopeful smile. "Please."

I didn't want anybody's help, especially not hers. But I needed it, and if she was being so kind as to come out here just to make sure I was okay, maybe it wasn't all so bad.

With a reluctant nod, I let her wash my hair for me, glad I wouldn't have to cause an ache in my other arm trying to do it. It was quiet as she did it, other than when she instructed me to dip my head in the water to wash out the shampoo and conditioner. Her fingers were delicate when she worked, massaging my head and putting me at ease instantly. I was still surprised at her aid, considering she'd always been preoccupied by herself or Shauna.

After I was done, she moved back in front of me, about to speak, but then her eyes caught sight of my swollen arm in my cast and widened.

"Woah, that looks painful," she noticed.

"Thanks," I said sarcastically.

"Are you taking the medicine Misty is giving you?" she asked with concern.

I tried not to hesitate as I nodded, lying. Truthfully, I hadn't been taking the medicine since a few days ago, as I knew Coach Scott's leg was at risk of infection if he didn't have enough. Besides, I'd taken some and the swelling had been going down. This was a bad day is all. Kind of.

"Okay, well...," she started, eyes lingering on my arm with an unreadable expression, before she stood up and held out her hand. "You're done. Come on."

I accepted her hand and she led me back to the shore, kindly helping me back into my clothes. After pulling her shorts and shoes on, I instantly hugged her with my good arm, certainly surprising her.

"Thanks, Jackie," I said sincerely, pulling back and seeing her raised eyebrows. "You don't know how good you're being."

She smiled, preoccupied. "Don't. I'm just helping."

I begged to differ, but she wasn't in the mood to hear it and I wasn't going to fight her on it. Instead, I just offered her a small smile before we both headed back to the cabin together.

Later that day, I was sat in the woods for some alone time, perched on a log and reading my book, when suddenly something was thrown right at me, startling me.

"What the hell?!" Jackie shouted, and I looked up to see she'd found me and was furious.

Confused, I looked to see what she'd thrown at me, only to realise it was the medication I hadn't been taking. Oh, no.

"You aren't taking it!" she shouted with exasperation.

I looked up to her, still baffled. "How did you even–”

"I'm not stupid," she snapped, before taking a deep breath to contain herself.

"It doesn't matter," I said calmly. "Coach needs them more. He's literally lost his leg and–"

"Why do you keep belittling your injury?!" she asked in a broken voice. "Nobody needs a hero, Y/N, just take the damn meds!"

The patronising tone she was using was it for me, and I suddenly stood up, unable to let her make me feel bad anymore.

"Why the hell do you even care, Jackie?" I retorted.

Taken aback, she raised her eyebrows before crossing her arms and avoiding my eyes. "I'm the cap–"

"Nobody gives a shit about that anymore!" I cut her off, before glaring at her. "You never paid me any mind before, so what gives now, huh? Did Jackie fucking Taylor suddenly grow a heart?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Seriously, why the hell do you care all of a sudden?" I continued. "Why do you–?"

"Because it's my damn fault!" she said, and my anger was momentarily replaced by further confusion. She continued to ramble, "I didn't mean to, but the plane was on fire and Shauna was going to get hurt and I just rushed out of there without thinking and I didn't mean to push you and then you broke your arm and I feel guilty, okay?!"

Furrowing my brows, I studied her as she took a deep breath. Though she was stressed by her admission of guilt, I was oddly calm.

"That was just an accident," I said, unsure why it mattered to her so much. "If that's why you've been helping me, why you've been keeping an eye on me... you can stop. I'm not dying."

"Yeah, now," she said knowingly, guilt-laden eyes meeting mine, "but when a fucking bear comes out of nowhere and tries to eat you, what are you gonna do with one arm?"

It took me a second to realise she was dead serious, and I tried very hard not to smile.

"If a bear tried to eat me and I had my arm, I'd still get eaten," I said matter-of-factly. "You think I can take on a bear?"

She groaned with discontent. "You don't get it!"

I covered my mouth, struggling not to smile in front of her and piss her off more. She only fixed me with a classic Jackie glare.

"Just take the fucking meds," she said threateningly, in a way that was reminiscent of a cute dog barking, before storming off.

Admittedly, I had to pause and think about what the hell just happened, still a little lost. All this time, she'd been helping me out of guilt? She blamed herself for my broken arm? It was an accident and she couldn't have known what would happen. Tensions were high, it was chaos! I couldn't blame her even if I tried. It was almost laughable how she'd reacted, though at least it explained her sudden interest in my welfare.

When I returned to the cabin after her outburst, she glanced at me once but didn't bother speaking to me. And when I thought it would be a temporary thing, she began to ignore me over the next few days, actively avoiding me. If it weren't to share the cabin to sleep, she'd either completely leave the space I was in or go as far away from me as she possibly could. Could've been guilt, anger or embarrassment, I wasn't sure, but I knew it was extremely childish.

I was filling up a bottle of water from our basin when she rounded the corner and saw me, clearly wanting to do the same judging from her own bottle in hand. One glance my way and she was ready to leave, but I decided to make the first move after a week of not speaking.

"I'm not gonna bite," I pointed out.

She clenched her jaw with indifference. "I know."

A smile ghosted my lips as I focused on filling my bottle, and she surprisingly approached the basin and did the same. It was silent, the sound of our movement filling the air, but she was still tense beside me. It felt all wrong, especially after how supportive she'd been since we got here.

"I'm taking my medicine by the way," I said casually, but I wanted her to know that she hadn't wasted her breath. I'd listened.

"That's good," she spoke after a moment, trying not to sound too bothered.

"Yeah, I wasn't going to, but then this angry soccer player who was crushing under the immense guilt from foreshadowing my improbable yet supposedly imminent death by bear made me feel bad," I continued calmly.

She paused her action, glancing at me with a look of disbelief, and I couldn't hold in my laughter any longer. Her expression was priceless.

"Asshole," she muttered, but she was clearly trying not to smile.

I capped my bottle before saying, "This is awkward. Stop avoiding me, please. I don't hate you or anything. And you don't need to keep checking on me out of guilt. We can just... go back to normal, whatever that was."

She gave me a disapproving glance. "It wasn't just out of guilt."

I raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"Believe it or not, Y/N, I do care about you," she said, surprising me. And then she added quickly, "I care about everyone here."

Heart warming at her words, I began to feel bad for what I'd said to her when we argued. "Thanks," I said quietly. "And I'm sorry for what I said, about you suddenly growing a heart. Wasn't nice at all. Or true."

She shrugged awkwardly, looking down. "It's okay. I've been a bit selfish lately. I know the girls say it. Even Shauna thinks it.”

I looked over at her, noticing the conflicted expression she wore. Underneath her confident, cool girl demeanour was just a normal teenager like everyone else, and right now, she looked more and more like that.

"Not always," I reminded her, hoping she knew that I was still grateful for what she'd done for me since the crash, guilt or no guilt.

She exhaled softly, an appreciative smile on her lips, and I was beginning to question if breaking my arm was worth giving me a reason to get to know Jackie Taylor in a different way.

—

When there wasn't the threat of survival creeping up on us, or the fear of being stranded away from our lives back home forever, there was complete and utter boredom. There was only so many times you could play the same card games or read the same books without wanting to smack your head against a wall.

I realised soon enough that I missed playing soccer and one day when I was having a wander near the cabin, I began to subconsciously kick around an acorn. That was where acorn soccer began. Now, whenever I was fed up doing the same thing all the time, I'd go into a little clearing near the cabin and start kicking around an acorn to have a sense of normalcy.

This time, as I was dribbling the acorn around some sticks, I heard someone approaching and glanced up to see it was Jackie.

"What are you doing?" she asked with both amusement and curiosity.

"Playing soccer," I said like it was obvious, before kicking the acorn in the air towards her. Instinctively, she caught it with her foot, stabilising it and letting it hit the ground gently. I cracked a smile, saying, "Someone's not lost their touch."

She rolled her eyes, a smile threatening to break out on her lips. "So this is where you disappear to?"

I quirked a brow. "Why? You keeping tabs?"

"You wish you were that interesting," she retorted, kicking around the acorn.

"Interesting enough for you to track down, clearly," I teased.

She glanced at me with a glint of humour in her eyes. "Maybe I just needed to make sure the bear didn't get you."

I grinned. "Aw, you do care! Nice to know you have my back."

At this, she finally let out a laugh, teeth showing and eyes sparkling and in such a way that I couldn't help but admire how pretty she looked right now.

"Okay, where's the goal?" she asked after a moment, pausing from kicking around the acorn.

"What?"

She gave me a look. "I'm bored too, now c'mon."

I chuckled and began to explain to her the unimpressive yet fulfilling setup I had, which consisted of me kicking the acorn between two trees as a 'net'. Once she was caught up, we found a bigger acorn together and began to play.

It was almost like we were back at soccer practice, playing and having fun and not having to worry about any impending doom. I'd forgotten how good it could feel to just be, and I'd especially forgotten how good Jackie was at soccer, making for the perfect opponent.

She scored for the third time and raised her hands in the air as she cheered for herself. "Hell yeah!"

"You see, this is why we got to nationals," I reminded her, making her laugh.

"God, I forgot how fun soccer was," she said with a sigh. "Clever idea with the acorn."

I shrugged. "Boredom struck. Creativity thrived."

She snickered, hands on her hips, before nodding at my arm. "Should you even be playing with your arm like that?"

I quirked a brow. "What you gonna do? Rat me out to Misty?"

She snorted with amusement. "She's too busy with Coach Scott to care."

I tried not to laugh, knowing Misty had been enjoying herself a little too much with looking after Coach Scott and his leg. It was clear she liked him, and though he was aware of how inappropriate it was, he had no choice but to accept her help. Yeah, the last thing on Misty's mind was if I was playing acorn soccer or not.

"Okay, you ready for the next one?" Jackie asked, already kicking the acorn into the centre to start again. "I might just take it easy on you this time. Y'know, because you're at a disadvantage."

I glared at her playfully, ignoring the way her cocky grin made me feel. "Game on, Taylor."

—

Since that point, I'd found myself looking out for Jackie a little more than usual. I guess you could say she'd piqued my interest more than she ever had. Back home, she was my team captain and that was it. We never really hung out outside of practice or soccer parties because our circles never crossed over. Now though, with her looking out for me and hanging out with me more, I was beginning to develop a little crush on her.

I would've been insane not to. She was funny, flirty, smart and she always knew what she wanted. And it was probably silly of me to crush on the one girl I could never get, but it certainly made my current situation a bit more manageable. Nothing like a teenage crush to get your mind off reality.

I liked to think I was subtle with it, the whole checking out Jackie every now and then. It was only when she was a fair distance away and there was no chance she would spot me. But one morning, as I was helping Akilah boil some more water from the lake, I spotted Jackie walking out of the cabin with Shauna. It was nothing different, but for some reason, she just looked extra stunning this morning. I wasn't sure what it was – possibly my own delusion – but I couldn't stop stealing looks at her.

And then she glanced my way, catching my eye, and before I could even react, embarrassed I'd been caught out, a knowing smile appeared on her lips and she winked playfully before paying her attention back to Shauna. I swallowed, flustered, and didn't look at her again for the rest of the day. Stupid crush.

#jackie taylor x you #jackie taylor imagine #jackie taylor x reader #yellowjackets imagine #yellowjackets #ella purnell

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