#ramblings of a mad woman as usual. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skzdarlings · 1 year

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05. sharing a bed series ; skz ; han

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 5/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: han jisung/reader content info: dom!reader. sub!jisung. sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. past misunderstandings, grudges, bickering. femdom feat: face slapping, face sitting, hair pulling, choking, riding, denial-n-cumming-anyway, kneeling, more pussy eating. this one is a little longer. teehee :)

“Hey, I hope you had a good flight…”

Chan’s voice message crackles through your phone speaker but you can barely hear him over the bustling airport. You wait until you are outside in the pick-up zone to try listening again. It is marginally quieter out here, cars coming and going, light snowfall brightening the winter night. With your luggage at your feet, you replay his voice mail.

“Hey, I hope you had a good flight. Something came up at work and I’m not gonna be able to pick you up. I’m really sorry ‘bout it, mate. Jisung is on his way to get you. I know, I know, but he’ll get you home, yeah? If you’re still mad tomorrow, I’ll take you to lunch and you can kill me there. Buh-byyeeeee!”

Oh, that son of a bitch.

The message ends just as a pair of headlights flash over you. You can see through the front window but despite the direct eye contact Jisung still feels the need the honk the horn not once, not twice, but three times.

You stand there with your arms hanging helplessly at your sides. Snow falls on your head and a frown darkens your whole face. Jisung just smiles and waves like an idiot, honking the horn again.

I am going to kill Chan, you think to yourself.

Jisung loves putting you in situations where you are the unrepentant supervillain of his life, so ignoring him and getting in a cab would just play into his horrible little hands. He might look unassuming in his puffy coat and backwards cap, might look soft and friendly with his fair hair and plushy pink smile, might look innocent with his big brown eyes peering at you with cartoonishly saccharine enthusiasm, but in reality none of that is true.

Han Jisung is the worst.

Han Jisung is your nemesis.

Han Jisung honks the horn again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you shout. You roll your eyes and heft your luggage over your shoulder, stomping with an incredible degree of petulance for a woman of your age. You toss your bag in the trunk then slide into the passenger seat.

Jisung honks again.

“Hello, hello, welcome to Flight H.A.N with Jisung airlines, this is your pilot speaking—”

You turn on the radio to shut him up. You are not in the mood for his shenanigans.

Jisung cringes with theatrical chagrin.

“Yikes,” he says with a bubbly laugh. “Tough crowd.”

“Just drive.”

“Yes, mistress, right away, mistress, Jisung lives to serve his mistress, please don’t hurt Jisung or leave him out in the cold tonight—”

You thunk your head against the headrest, glaring ahead as Jisung smoothly joins the traffic flow despite his nonsensical rambling.

You vaguely remember a time when Jisung was shy, back before he made it his life mission to send you hurtling into an annoyance-induced death. You also vaguely remember a time you liked him, him and his quietness, him and his quirky humour, him and his big, stupid, brown eyes.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Jisung sings along with the radio so you flip the station to one with talking. He strums his fingers on the steering wheel, lips pursed and eyebrows lifted. He casts you a few side glances that you pointedly ignore. When you see him open his mouth, you hold up a finger.

“Do not even think about it,” you say. “Whatever you were about to say or do… Don’t.”

He presses his lips together and makes an obnoxiously loud pop.

“Kk,” he says. “This should be a fun half hour.”

The airport is outside of the city, a half-hour drive to your downtown apartment. Usually. The weather has traffic horrifically backed up. Half an hour comes and goes and you are barely out of view of the airport.

“We could play a game,” Jisung says, looking at you sideways. “I spy with my little—”

“Nope.”

“Okay, cool. Cool, cool, cool.” He nods, strumming the steering wheel again.

The radio blathers on, you barely listening. You scroll through your phone until there are zero notifications, then you scroll through your photo album just for something to look at. Jisung hums to himself and you try not to get annoyed all over again. You exploding at something so inconsequential would give him way too much satisfaction.

The snow comes down harder. It pulls your attention from your phone to the blustery world outside. Everything is a harsh grey, the dark night foggily illuminated by the white snow. Even Jisung is concentrating now, his brow furrowed as he stares through the front window.

“Shit,” he says.

He changes stations to catch a road update. Your jaws drop in unison when the reporter mentions a thirteen hour delay on the main bridge into the city.

“Thirteen fucking hours?” you say. It comes out wheezy. “It’s winter! Why are they always so surprised by the fucking snow! God! What the hell are we gonna do?”

“We’re not going anywhere near the bridge, that’s what we’re gonna do,” Jisung says, flipping the car into reverse and immediately changing course.

“How else are we getting downtown?”

He looks at you like you’re so stupid that he can’t believe it, his eyebrows jumping up his face.

“Uh, hello, welcome back to town, it’s snowing here,” Jisung says. “We’re going downtown tomorrow when it won’t kill us or trap us in a car—”

“I want to go home—”

“Do you want to spend thirteen hours in a car with me?” Jisung asks. “Because that’s what going home will involve right now, k?”

He sounds terse. You feel a little better when he acts short with you too, more justified in your own rudeness.

“Fine,” you say. “What are we doing then?”

A ten minute trip turns into an hour long drive with traffic delays, but eventually you are rolling into the snow-covered parking lot of the only motel with a vacancy sign. You and Jisung do not speak, stepping out of the car and crunching along the snow in silence. The motel parking lot is washed a golden colour, the yellow balcony lights beaming over the white snow. It holds the promise of warmth. You hurry inside.

You shake yourself off in the tiny entryway while Jisung dings the desk bell. Someone appears to check you in.

“You’re a lucky couple,” she says. “Lots of folks have stopped because of the weather. We have exactly one room left available. It’s a nice cozy double bed. Sounds good?”

“Ummm…” You join Jisung at the desk, a million frantic thoughts running through your brain. “Hold on, we’re not—”

“Did you hear that, baby?” Jisung says with exaggerated fondness, because he can’t help but taunt you. “We’re a lucky couple. Isn’t that just our luck the only room available has one bed?”

You step on his foot deliberately and he yelps.

“Is there really no other option?” you ask the attendant with some degree of desperation.

“No, sorry.” She gives you a funny look but shakes her head. “I doubt you’ll have better luck finding a room anywhere else tonight. You can have this one or enjoy a car nap.”

“My beautiful wife and I are happy with a double,” Jisung says, already holding out his credit card. “Right, baby?”

You smack his ass, hard and swift. His eyes widen. You smirk.

“Right, baby,” you say with a snarl.

Tonight’s only saving grace is the hot water; you enjoy a long shower before changing into sleep shorts and a camisole. You join Jisung in the room, finding him sprawled on the double bed with air pods in his ears. He tossed his hat somewhere and is laying there in jeans and a t-shirt – remarkable, as you thought he might strip to his underwear just to be annoying. But no, he lays there peacefully. His fair hair is darker at the root, neatly framing his unfortunately handsome face. He has one arm flexed under his head, the muscle more pronounced than you remember it being. His eyes are closed as he nods along to the music.

You grab a pillow and thwack him in the gut. It startles him to attention, a strangled sound leaving his throat.

“You stay on that side of the bed and you do not move, got it?” you say.

He sticks his tongue out at you.

“Very mature,” you say.

You lay down with your back to him. After twenty minutes, he still has his bedside light on so you snap at him. He whines like a little baby but turns it off, leaving just his phone beaming at his face. You can hear his music but say nothing.

You can’t sleep. You want to roll over but you absolutely refuse to face him.

His phone screen finally goes dark after god knows how long and he puts it aside. There is a long stretch of silence in the dark. You swear you have never been so uncomfortable laying on this side in all your life. Knowing you will not be able to sleep without turning at least once, you decide to roll over. You figure Jisung laid down with his back to you anyway.

He didn’t. He is staring right at you, his big eyes making him look like a pathetic little lemur gawping at a human in the dark.

“Why don’t you like me?” Jisung says.

“Oh no,” you say, immediately rolling onto your back. “Absolutely not. We are not having a heart to heart.”

“Oh come oooon, please,” he whines. “This is the time and place—”

“It really isn’t—”

“It’s a classic story, a boy, and a girl—”

“I don’t like stories—”

“Forced to share a bed and share their secret feelings—”

“Those feelings are disgust, hatred, and revulsion—”

“Opening their hearts and—whoa, wait, what? Hatred? You hate me?” Jisung pushes himself up on one elbow, staring down at you with a completely horrified look on his face.

You try to ignore him and his stupid expressions, glaring at the ceiling as if it can do anything to save you. Your heart is beating fast but it doesn’t feel good. The pounding is coupled with a nauseous turn in your gut.

It is open knowledge that you do not like Han Jisung one bit, but you seldom vocalize it so explicitly. Certainly not to his face. Certainly not beside him in bed.

“That can’t possibly surprise you,” you say.

“Well, it does actually!” Jisung says. “I knew you didn’t like me but hate me? How could you hate me? I’m delightful.”

Even now, the clown is trying to joke. Because that’s all it is to him, isn’t it? Everything is just a joke all the time. Everything and everyone is a punchline waiting to happen. But you aren’t laughing. Your hands close into fists and you dig your nails into your palms to keep your frustration in check. Your neck feels hot and your stomach is still turning. You feel embarrassed about things you haven’t even said yet. Your tongue feels swollen somehow, your throat lined thickly. It takes several deep breaths before you can speak.

“Well,” you say bitterly, “I guess I just can’t help being a massive bitch. The worst you’ve ever met, right?”

There is a beat of silence, then Jisung flips on the bedside light.

You slap your fists down on the bedcovers and glare at him.

“Turn off the light,” you say.

“No way, you were just talking in a voice. What did you mean? Why do you--”

“Jisung, I swear to god, if you don’t turn off that light—”

“Look, can we just—”

You shove the covers down and climb on top of him without thinking, trying to reach the light yourself. He grabs you by the arms and pushes you back. You end up tussling ungracefully, you wriggling around like a worm and Jisung clearly in control but just as clearly trying to go easy on you. It puts you at an impasse. With an angry huff, you push away from him.

“If I said something—” he starts.

You laugh, a joyless cackle.

“If,” you repeat. “You’ve said a lot of somethings over the years, Jisung.”

“I—I didn’t mean it if I—I don’t even know what I—”

You look at him. He seems to be genuinely confounded and more than a little miserable, his eyes darting around as he racks his brain, his brow furrowed with obvious upset. His hand is frozen on his head, a clump of hair feathering through his fingers.

He meets your gaze and you roll your eyes. You feel hot and uncomfortable again, the source of your nausea climbing up and up and up until it is clawing its way past your lips and—

“The day we met,” you say, finally, after years of stamping down the humiliating memory, “you said I was a massive bitch, the worst you had ever met. And it—”

You are not sad. You refuse to be sad. This pain is years old now and it does not hurt you anymore. But you are angry – with him, with yourself, with this whole shitty circumstance, and the angrier you get, the more tears stab at your eyes.

You swallow down a lump in your throat and take a steadying breath. You stare at the wall because his attentive, earnest gaze is too much to bear.

“I know I’m a little awkward when I first meet people,” you say. “I’m shy and weird and sometimes… sometimes people think I’m a bitch when really I’m just quiet. Chan introduced me to you because he said that you were kinda the same, and that we had lots in common, and he thought we would get along. And then we met and—”

“We did,” Jisung says softly.

Your vision is blurry now. You sniff hard, wiping your arm under your nose.

“Yes,” you say. “We did. We got along amazing. We were quiet for a second and then it was like… like we were already friends. As if we always knew each other. I’ve never spoken like that to someone so quickly. It’s like I just forgot to be shy. I was so happy and then—”

“I remember all this,” Jisung says, still sounding confused. “I don’t get it. It was Changbin’s birthday, right? We were talking all night and it was great but then you just left without saying bye. Then the next time we met you already hated me—”

You finally look at him, hitting him with the full force of your emotional expression. He clearly was not expecting the tears because he literally jumps at the sight of you.

“I left after overhearing you talk about me in the kitchen to one of your stupid friends,” you snap. “’That woman is without doubt a totally massive bitch. The worst I’ve ever met.’ And you were laughing. Just… just standing there laughing about it, about me. And I had no idea why. Why? What had I said or done? It was humiliating. And it hurt, and the reason it hurt so bad was because it came from you.” You jab him in the chest, trying to sound angry because your tears are falling now and it just makes you feel pathetic. “It hurt, Jisung,” you say, “because it was you. From anyone else I wouldn’t care. But you were the one person I expected to understand me. The one person who got what it was like. So to hear you saying those things—god. I never wanted to see you again, but then you and Chan started your stupid projects together and I couldn’t get away from you. And you just got more and more in my face no matter what I did—”

“Oh my god.” Jisung slaps both hands to his head. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, as if he can’t believe what he is hearing. “Hold on,” he says, abruptly getting out of bed. “Just… just hold on.”

He runs away. You sit there more confused than anything, your face wet, your breathing uneven. He is gone long enough for you to get angry again, glaring at him when he gets back in the bed.

“Here,” he says, giving you the tissue box he evidently retrieved from the bathroom. “Just… here.”

He takes a tissue and awkwardly dabs at your cheek. You snatch it away from him, frowning.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says. He gets off the bed again, hovering awkwardly at the side while you wipe your face clean. He waits until you are composed, swaying where he stands, clasping and unclasping his hands. When you stop sniffling, he lets out a huge exhale. “Okay,” he says. “Look. I’m sorry. I’m… I’m really, really fucking sorry. And I want to explain, I really do, but… but if I explain, I think it’s only gonna make you upset.”

You give him a very sarcastic look.

“I’m already upset, you stupid jerk,” you say. “Just spit it out so I can go to sleep.”

“Right.” He runs his hand through his hair again. It falls softly down and flutters when he exhales. “God. Okay. This is gonna sound so stupid. But, yeah, okay, I do remember saying that actually. I didn’t know you heard me but… but that’s not an excuse. I know. I shouldn’t have said it at all. I totally do know that. But also… I said it, but I didn’t. What I mean is, what you heard me saying, I was not actually saying.”

You stare at him for a long moment.

“What,” you say, “the fuck?”

He waves his hands around defensively.

“What I mean is,” he says, “and stay with me… but… I actually meant it as a compliment.”

“A compliment,” you say. “A compliment? You called me a massive bitch as a compliment?”

“Yes.”

“Do you seriously expect me to believe that?” you shout, grabbing a pillow and hurling it at him.

His reflexes are fast. He ducks and the pillow sails over his head, whacking the blinds with a clatter. He looks there then looks at you, just in time for you to throw the tissue box. He dodges that too, ducking down again. The box hits the radiator and thunks to the ground.

“Okay, listen—” he says.

He is not fast enough when you chuck the second pillow.

“Okay, okay, I deserved that,” he says, holding the offending pillow up in surrender. He tentatively approaches the bed with it, eying you as he gently lays it back down.

You glare.

“I promise I can explain,” he says. “And you’re gonna love this explanation, because it is going to completely and totally humiliate me and you will have something to hold over my head for the rest of your life.”

“I’m listening,” you say. You feel embarrassed about crying so the least he can do is embarrass himself too.

“Thank you,” he says. He gets back on the bed, kneeling and tipping his head back. It looks like he’s praying, gathering the strength to admit whatever he is about to admit.

You cross your arms. You are annoyed he is taking so long and also annoyed that you genuinely want to know. Han Jisung has no problem blurting every stupid thought that crosses his mind, at least when it comes to you, so you cannot begin to imagine what dark secret he can’t bring himself to speak out loud.

You are halfway convinced he is trying to come up with a lie when he finally throws his arms out as if in supplication.

“I’m a fucking freak!” he says, with all the verve and jubilation of hallelujah. He closes his eyes and nods his head. “I’m a pervert and I think with my dick like ninety-eight per cent of the time. The other two per cent of the time I am honestly probably thinking with my prostate, though I haven’t really worked that one out yet completely—”

“What?” Your whole face screws tight with bewilderment. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I love bitches. No wait.” He shakes his head. “That came out wrong. Hold on. I love… well, yeah, no, bitches. Mean girls. Bullies. Catwoman.”

“Catwoman.”

“That whip… t-cha.”

“Jisung—”

“Look I was telling my friend about you because Minho’s an even bigger freak than me. He’s the only one who knows my secret and—”

“Your secret,” you say slowly. “That you… like bitches?”

“That I love bitches,” he says. “When I told him that you were the biggest bitch I ever met, it was because we both knew that what I meant was: holy shit dude, I just found my soulmate, she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, I’m getting married tonight, and if she asked me to tattoo her face on my butt right now I would do it.”

You hate that you laugh, but the comment is so unexpected that it sputters out of you.

Jisung smiles, releasing a pent-up breath of relief.

“You were… are… funny, and smart, and yeah a bit quiet but you still don’t let it stop you from defending yourself or someone else when something is wrong. Remember when you told off that creep at the party? The one who was bugging Felix? You don’t take anyone’s shit and then you just move on quietly like it was nothing. I was obsessed with you from the second we started talking. Then I was a stupid horny pervert and opened my big stupid mouth and now you hate me.”

“I’m still not sure I really get it,” you say, admittedly flustered at his admission. You had no idea Jisung saw you that way. The woman he’s describing does sound pretty amazing, and he sounds sincerely infatuated. When your heart starts skipping beats again, it feels different than before. “Explain,” you say.

He slaps his thighs in a motion of surrender.

“Yup,” he says. “Okay. Fine. Cool. I like when women boss me around. I like when they are mean to me. I like when they hurt me and make me cry. It… it gets my dick hard, okay? I love bitches. I LOVE BITCHES—”

You reach out to slap a hand over his mouth, remembering it’s a motel in the middle of the night.

Jisung’s shoulders jump and he laughs into your hand, clearly embarrassed as he remembers where he is. You laugh in spite of yourself, lowering your hand.

“Oops,” he says.

“Oops,” you reply.

Oops, you misunderstood your eavesdropping.

Oops, Jisung never hated you.

Oops, you find yourself staring into his eyes for way too long.

“So just to clarify,” you say. “You’re into, like, female domination stuff, and you called me a bitch as the highest form of compliment in your crazy brain, and then you spent the next two years being as annoying as possible because…”

“I thought you were just, like, crazy edging me or something,” Jisung says, making you laugh helplessly into your hands. He laughs too, even while looking a little pained. “I did! I was like shit, she’s so nasty, she’s really taking me for a fucking ride. I would have kept doing this for the rest of our lives if this conversation didn’t happen. I would’ve been at your wedding like damn, she’s really got me going this time—”

“You’re so stupid,” you say, pushing at his chest without any real animosity.

“I know, I really am,” he says. He draws an X over his chest. “But cross my heart and hope to die, everything I have told you is the complete truth. I’d tell you to slap me because you definitely deserve it but honestly, it would give me a boner and I don’t think either of us wants that since we’re stuck in the same bed all night.”

He says it jokingly, of course. But you can hear the twinge of flirtation and truth under his just kidding.

And maybe you’re still on an adrenaline kick. Maybe your emotions are right at the surface. Maybe you hated him so much because deep down you liked him, and you hated that you liked him because of a misunderstanding.

And maybe, just maybe, those big brown eyes have drawn you in from the second you first saw him.

“Slap you,” you say, as if in deep contemplation. “Slap you where? Your face?”

This clearly catches him off guard. He opens his mouth and a garbled sound comes out. He thumps a fist on his chest.

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “Sure. Whatever, you know. You know.”

“Mhm.” You move so you are kneeling too, facing each other. You watch as he swallows hard, the gulp going down his throat. All the adrenaline you built up earlier is suffusing into the race of your bloodstream. Heat simmers below the surface of your skin. “And you like that? Getting slapped when you’ve been bad?”

“Oh my god,” he says. “Are you.. are we… is something happening right now? Oh my god. Hold on.” He says that but then all he does is stand up and sit back down again, rekneeling in the exact same position. “Right, okay,” he says. “Slap away.”

You snort, rolling your eyes but smiling. You lift your hand but he is staring at you so expectantly that it just feels weird, not sexy, and you laugh giddily with amusement.

“Aww, come oooon,” he whines, but laughingly too. “Don’t get shy. You were so good at it.”

“I’ve had years of bitchy practice, I guess,” you say with a quirked eyebrow, making him grin. You shake your head. “I dunno. Just. Do something to earn a slap I guess. It’s too weird to just smack you out of nowhere.”

“Do something?” he asks. “Uh, I dunno. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve never done anything in my life to earn a slap. I’m seriously the most charming and funny and perfect guy ever and I—”

Your slap him across the face. The sound startles you because it sounds harder than it felt, ringing out loud with only the faintest sting on your palm.

Jisung looks genuinely surprised. His head turned with the impact of the slap, his jaw falling open. He blinks himself back into focus and you are about to ask if he’s all right, then he looks at you in a way he has never looked at you before. The desire and desperation of his gaze moves right through you, gathering hot in every intimate place.

“Did you like that?” he asks, his voice a little gravelly as it drops low.

“I don’t know,” you say softly. You reach out to touch his chin, a delicate touch that makes him shiver. You turn his face to look at the faint redness on his cheek. “Can I try again to be sure?”

He nods and swallows again.

You don’t ask for build-up this time. You pull your hand back and bring it down sharply on his cheek.

This time it makes him whimper. It flushes you with heat.

“Oh my god,” you say. “What else?”

“Uh, oh, fuck, um.” He touches his cheek and sucks in a breath. He pushes his hair only for it flop back in place. “Um,” he says. “Choking. F-fingers? Fingers in my mouth... Um, haha, I can’t think. Bondage? Yeah. Erm, denial. Overstimulation. Puuussy… yes, um, pussy. On my face please. Uhh… Punishment. Pulling my hair… Oh, hello.”

You take hold of his shoulders and push, guiding him to lay on his back. He is already panting when you straddle him, his eyes wide when you lean down.

“Do you still hate me?” he asks when you are millimetres away from his mouth.

You pretend to think about it.

“Hm,” you say with obvious theatricality, stealing a page from his book. “Yeah. I hate you so much. You’re my worst enemy. Sorry, baby.”

“That’s hot,” he says with a nervous little giggle. “You’re hot. You know I think—mmmf.”

You interrupt whatever long-winded joke was incoming. He does not protest this interruption as it involves a kiss, a good kiss, a deep kiss, one that pushes his head into the plushness of his pillow, one that has him moaning into your mouth. He lifts his hands to touch you, fingertips barely grazing your bare thighs when you seize his wrists. You shove them into the bed, pinned on either side of his head. He bucks under you, his mouth opening under your kiss. You bite at his bottom lip and drag your teeth, making his hips move even more.

You break away quickly and just as quickly slap him. It knocks a surprised breath out of him, his eyes a bit watery when he looks up at you.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, baby,” you say. “I’m just getting started.”

“Oh my god.”

You try not to smile but Jisung makes it hard. You feel flushed with excitement, hot with power and anticipation. You squeeze his hips between your thighs and push the hem of his shirt up and over his chest. He whimpers again but doesn’t move, his eyes closing when you hold down his wrists and duck your head.

“Fuck, oh god,” he murmurs, a constant stream of mumbled expletives as your mouth runs over his chest, kissing and licking and biting, teasing him until he can’t help but buck his hips for friction. When you feel him fully hard in his jeans you lean back, smirk, then climb off him. “Oh god, you’re too good at this,” he says, keeping his hands where you left them and gazing at you with wanting eyes.

You blow him a kiss and shimmy out of your shorts and underwear. Thoughtlessly he swings a hand down to touch himself, squeezing his dick through his jeans and groaning.

“Did I tell you that you could—” you start, but he puts his hand back beside his head before you can finish. His smile is far too innocent. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you say.

“Am I?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up,” you reply, getting back on top of him. “I still hate you.”

“Oh god, yes,” he says. His hips buck into the air as you scoot over his chest. “More.”

“I hate you,” you say, moving until your legs are on either side of his head. “ I hate you so much, Han Jisung. I’m going to ruin you.”

“Fuck.”

He already has his mouth open when you lower onto his face. You grip the headboard and rock yourself over his tongue, back and forth until he finds your rhythm and takes over. What he lacks in precision he compensates with eagerness, licking at you without any care for the mess it makes of him, wet and sloppy and hot as his tongue moves inside you then up and down your pussy, circling your clit, sucking, flicking, back and forth, around and around—

“Oh my god,” you say, looking down at where you can see the top of his face, his eyes closed as he works, as he moans, as he squeezes your thighs in his hands and drags his tongue all over you. You grip the headboard tight when you come, throwing your head back and grinding down against him.

You lift your hips off his face, hovering above him on shaky thighs. You shuffle back and sit on his abdomen so you can see him, his eyes wide and wet mouth open as he pants. He licks his lips and murmurs please, please, please in a hoarse voice.

“Please?” you repeat, a little out of breath as well.

You swirl your fingers over his bare chest and fiddle with the t-shirt still bunched under his chin. He moves his face wherever you push it, tipping his head back, tilting it to the side. He goes cross-eyed when your fingers dance in front of him, touching his lips. His mouth falls open and his eyes close when you slide two fingers inside his mouth.

“Please what, Jisung?” you ask, slowly finger-fucking his mouth. “What do you want?”

He can’t speak around your fingers so he just whines, digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs.

“Oh,” you say. Your giggle is filled with genuine delight, even while your voice is rough. “I see. You want to put your dick inside me, baby? Hmm? You wanna say you’re sorry and that you’ll be good and let me ride you?”

“Good, so good,” he says, drooling around your fingers when you slide them out. He swallows hard, choking on nothing, then nods his head. “Please, please. Yes.”

You lean down and kiss his wet mouth, a chaste peck. You rub the corner of his lips, smiling at his closed eyes and wrecked expression.

“Okay,” you say. “Get ready for me then.”

You have a string of condoms in your luggage, always tucked in the pocket in case of emergency. Emergencies like a snow storm trapping you in bed with your former worst enemy turned lover.

When you get back to him, Jisung is laying there completely naked, flushed and stroking himself as he watches you. He lets you take his hand off his dick, holds you obediently when you guide his hands to your waist. He kisses you when you lean down, a hot and heavy kiss as you straddle him again. It ends when you push him flat and sit back, already grinning because you know you are about to short-circuit his brain.

“Wanna see a trick?” you say, and proceed to put the condom on him with your mouth. You laugh when you see his face after, his mouth hanging open as he blinks at you.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he says, but laughs a little.

His head thunks back into the pillows when you guide him inside you. You put your hands over his, holding them to your hips as you rock over him. His chest lifts and falls and his eyes close as he concentrates on not rushing your pace. He keeps holding your waist firmly when you slide your hands over his chest.

“Look at me,” you say.

He blinks his eyes open. You smile.

“Good boy.”

He makes a noise that sounds more pained than when you slapped him. It lights up inside you like fire and you move faster, take him deeper. You get a bit dizzy with how good it feels, his dick curving up to drive against the softest, most sensitive part of you, sending you hurtling towards another orgasm. You rub yourself at the same time, looking down at him as he gasps and moans, as he holds your hips and fucks you back.

You bring your hand to his neck and gently circle it, rubbing yourself harder when he whines with chest-deep desperation.

“I—I’m gonna—oh god—” he says, squeezing your hips so tightly that you think it might bruise.

It feels so good, his rough hands coupled with his dick hitting perfectly inside you. Your whole body draws taut for its crest.

“Don’t,” you say, laughing a little, not even to be mean but because it feels so good that you feel giddy. You squeeze his throat and his hips get erratic under you. “Not yet,” you say. “Me first.”

“Oh my god,” he says, looking up at you with frantic eyes. “I—I can’t—I’m gonna—”

“Jisung,” you say, squeezing his throat harder so he makes a choked-up sound that goes straight to your pussy. “Are you gonna be good or bad?”

“I’m—I’m—oh god.”

You stop touching yourself because you know he doesn’t stand a chance outlasting you. You ride him through his orgasm, choking him as he spasms and moans and cries out. His head lifts for a second, his eyes closed and brows furrowed, then he flops back down with an exhausted heave.

His eyes open again, watery and huge.

“Oh fuck,” he says, voice like gravel as you release his throat. A deep breath shudders out of him. “Oh… fuck,” he says, dreamily, smiling, then pouting. “Oh! Fuck!”

You giggle at him managing to say the same thing in three different voices.

You slip your fingers into his hair and tug, yanking his head up. He follows with a gasp.

“I should hit you again for that,” you say.

You slide off him, carefully. He sucks in a ragged, tearful breath when you touch his dick to deal with the condom. After, you rub your palm on the oversensitive head of it, making him grab at you and cry out. It squeezes a tear out of him and you kiss it away.

“Come on,” you say, grabbing him by the hair again. You get off the bed and drag him to follow. “I’m not done with you.”

He is a little shaky and boneless from coming. His footing is unsteady from the moment he touches the ground, moving with thoughtless obedience. He thumps down heavily onto his knees. When he sways, you straighten him. He blinks up at you, on his knees, already nodding.

You put your leg over his shoulder and draw him in. For the second time, he gets you off with his mouth, his hands on your ass and his face buried in your pussy. You sink your fingers in his hair and let it wash over you, humming happily when you are finished.

You lower your leg off his shoulder. Jisung slumps backwards, leaning against the bed and breathing hard, his face and hair a mess.

“Wow,” he says. He looks up at you. “That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You laugh, feeling hot and flushed but satisfied.

“Me too,” you say, making him smile.

You help him back into the bed because his legs seem a little numb. You lay beside him, rubbing the inside of his thigh as he kisses all over your face. You giggle then fall into a proper kiss, winding around each other affectionately.

“I’m gonna send Chan a gift basket,” Jisung says, making you snort. “I am! Thank you for having a family emergency, your timing couldn’t be better.”

You tip your head and look at him with confusion.

“Family emergency?” you say. “He told me he was working?”

“Working?” Jisung furrows his brow. “Huh? We don’t have anything coming up at work. He phoned me from the road and said he was heading out to visit family? He said he wouldn’t be back all week-end.”

“He told me he was stuck working and would see me tomorrow,” you say, your eyes narrowing as you slowly put two-and-two and together.

“I didn’t even know why he was asking me and not Changbin or something,” Jisung continues to muse aloud. “He said you were wanting to talk to me, though, so I figured—”

“I never said that! I mean, I’m glad we did but…” You sit up, glaring at the wall.

Jisung bursts into laughter, covering his mouth as he looks at you.

“Did Chan hustle us?” he asks.

“He threw us together in a snow storm so we’d be forced to reconcile!”

“I don’t think Chan can control the weather—”

“Oh, he definitely can. I bet he delayed the bridge himself—”

Jisung laughs some more, kissing the side of your face lovingly while you continue to glare contemptuously at the wall.

“Well,” you say, looking at him. You kiss him sweetly on the nose and he smiles at you. “That’s fine,” you say. “A vacancy for my sworn enemy just opened up. Looks like I found a replacement.”

“I’m good with that,” Jisung says. “But… you’re not allowed to enemy-fuck him like that. That’s just for me, right?”

You settle in his arms, forgetting about Chan for the time being, forgetting to glare, forgetting about everything that happened before tonight. You smile at him, brushing a bit of hair off his sweaty forehead. He is still flushed and beautiful, his hopeful eyes locked on yours. He smiles back.

“Yeah,” you say. “It’s only ever been just you, Jisung.”

He visibly melts, his laugh a breathless thing. He leans in and kisses you and you hold his face, kissing him back. You can feel him smiling against your lips and you smile too.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #han jisung x dom!reader #sub!jisung x dom!reader #skz x reader #sub!skz x dom!reader

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lovinpelova · 5 months

Text

prove them wrong | j. fleming

summary; the chelsea girls believe jessie is too innocent to fuck you, she proves them wrong. [SMUT]

🎵 private landing - don toliver

jessie had always acted differently around you. around others she was quiet, shy and reserved with a blush adorning her cheeks out of embarassment alongside a soft tone of voice you could listen to all day. she made sure to keep herself toned down even around her best friends. when it was just the two of you she grew confident, louder even, and although she still reserved a quiet side for you sometimes she was mainly a completely different person.

that's what led you right here, your arm around the canadians shoulders as she pushed her body further into yours whilst you watched your teammates dancing drunkenly and sat with some others. you were in a comfortable silence whilst listening to the conversation, jessies hand finding yours as she smiled up at you and you kissed her forehead in response, content in your own little bubble until guro popped it with her tipsy rambling.

"speaking of people who don't have the confidence to do things, what do you reckon jessie doesn't have the confidence to do when it involves y/n?"

sam sat with her in silence for a moment, erin also joining in on the thinking as you and jessie readjusted yourselves to listen properly, interested in where drunk guro would be taking this next.

"definitely doesn't tell her when she's mad at her."

"no, she definitely does everything y/n tells her to."

jessie blushed at the comments as you snickered, knowing only half of them were true whilst sam and guro bickered back and forth with erin joining in to share the occasional opinion, her eyes suddenly lighting up to break apart the two sad beside her.

"i got it!"

sam and guro stopped arguing, the drunk norwegian taking another sip of her rum and coke as you all listened to what the scot had to say.

"you can't tell me sweet little jess has the confidence to top someone!"

"holy shit you're so right! she's way too shy."

the three of them agreed in laughter as you joined in, chuckling and refusing to confirm or deny it whilst they continued bickering about how they strongly believed jessie was a pillow princess. the canadians hand found its way to your thigh, making you look at her and smile like usual, thinking she just wanted some form of physical contact to ground herself from the embarassment- only to find her eyes blown out and staring back at you lustfully.

the midfielder made sure the others didn't see, turning towards them with a blush on her face and sinking back into her chair with the occasional argument when she was called 'too precious' to even think about having sex. as much as jessie loved the girls and the way they spoke about her timid nature it could get annoying sometimes, they thought just because she was quiet that she wasn't a grown woman with needs and her own experiences. when they first found out you were dating they were shocked, understandably, but they were even more shocked when they learned jessie wasn't a virgin.

i mean, she's a twenty-five year old grown woman, why do they act like she's never had sex before?

the thoughts made jessies hand tighten on your thigh quickly, feeling herself grow more furious by the second at the constant misinterpretation from her teammates (and sometimes public eye) before she excused herself and headed towards the toilet without an explanation. the four of you looked up in shock at the sudden movement she used to back away, your instincts immediately figuring out she wanted you to follow her as you excused yourself to check on her.

as soon as you opened the door an inch and peeked your head in to check if she'd actually gone to the toilet a rough grip tugged your wrist and pushed you against the sink, not bothering to wait for the door to close as you felt your lover push her lips onto yours in a needy manner. it took you a second to kiss back due to the unexpected action but you eventually gathered your thoughts, feeling jessies hands move to your waist as she picked you up and placed you on the counter before standing between your legs.

as soon as you started wondering why jessie wanted to do this here and now it clicked like the final puzzle piece. you had no doubt in your mind she was going to fuck you until the girls heard you moaning her name out- not the other way around. she wanted to prove their assumptions wrong without having to argue, she was going to give them an undeniable piece of evidence and shut them up.

before you had a chance to even think about slowing jessie down her hand slipped into your underwear as she bit down on your lip roughly, slowly sinking her digits into you with a smirk at the needy moan you let out. your fingers found purchase in her hair with a tug, relishing in the groan that fell from her lips for a moment before she started moving her fingers at a rapid pace.

"jess what if they hear?"

you whispered against her ear breathily as your hips grinded in time to her thrusts, the canadian grunting in response whilst leaving sloppy kisses along your neck and curling her fingers. she was eager to get you to your high and she wanted it now.

"get louder."

she demanded gruffly, one hand holding onto your hips to keep you still before she started abusing your g-spot, not even needing to search for it because she remembered everything about you so well.

"but-"

"i said, get. louder."

she emphasised, watching you nod in response to her sudden rough aura before you started to really focus on how good she was fucking you. not long ago she was curled up into your side and in awe of the way your fingers looked laced together- now she was demanding you moan out her name with her fingers pistoning in and out of your pussy at a god-like pace.

"feels so good jess, keep going. 'm almost there."

"gonna scream my name like i want you to? gonna be a good girl and let everyone know who makes you feel this good?"

"yes, jessie! yes- fuck baby! keep going jess!"

she hummed in content at your response, continuing to push against your g-spot until your fingers tugged at her hair one final time as you let out a guttural moan the girls outside definitely heard, your release spilling all over her digits with your thighs shaking around her waist. she held them open with her hips whilst slowing down her thrusts and eventually pulling her fingers up towards your mouth, watching with dark eyes as you sucked them clean without her even having to ask.

"good girl."

she mumbled, leaning in to kiss you softly and continue doing so until you'd fully recovered from your orgasm. the canadian helped you down and out of the bathroom after you both fixed your appearances, a smug smirk on her face whilst your cheeks grew bright red at the amount of eyes you now had watching you.

"have fun in there you two?"

erin asked sarcastically, the girls who heard bursting out into laughter as jessie wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to kiss your forehead. the team were never gonna let you live this down.

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eat-limes-bitches · 1 month

Text

Take A Chance

PAIRING: Female Reader x Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY: Who knew one look could calm the raging storm of his mind.

SONG Be Brave by Owl City

WARNINGS: Angst, (Bucky's self-loathing, anxiety, mention of nightmares, hinting to PTSD) Fluff!!!

Word Count: 1212

A/N: Hi! Here is the 2nd part! Sorry, it took so long! If you haven't read the first part yet you can click HERE to read it first, but you don't have to, you can read this as a stand-alone. I've already started part 3 so be on the lookout for that!

Enjoy! <3

Divider by Rookthorne

Bucky stood outside Joe’s coffee shop a little before nine, fiddling with the bouquet in his hands, tracing his eyes over the colored petals. He had asked the little old lady at the flower shop what would be best. She had looked him over thoughtfully before producing the bouquet with a smile, shooing him off insiting he not pay, as he was a regular there and had never bought flowers for a special someone before. He stuck the cash he intended to pay her in the tip jar and shuffled out the door and over to Joe’s where he was now standing.

Was this too old-fashioned? Do girls even like flowers anymore? What if she doesn’t even show up? I’ll look like an idiot.

He began to question himself, starting to become nervous. He rubbed a gloved hand over his thigh as he began to spiral, but a sweet voice pulled him out of it before he descended too far into madness.

“Hi, Bucky!”

Bucky froze and turned around to look at the speaker. Sure enough, there was the woman from the movie theater the night before. She smiled sweetly at him, her eyes bright and warm, chasing off the chill of the January air. Bucky shook his head and cleared his throat,

“Oh! Um- Hi, Y/n.” He offered her an awkward smile as he handed her the bouquet, “These are for you.”

She gingerly took the flowers from him, eyes wide as she looked at them before shifting her gaze up to his. The longer she stayed silent, the more dread he felt building up in his stomach.

“I-I’m sorry, it was probably stupid and old-fashioned but my ma woulda killed me if she knew I went to meet a pretty girl without flowers a-and I didn’t know what to get so the lady at the store told me-”

His rambling was cut off when Y/n waved her hand.

“No! I love them! It’s just, no one has ever bought me flowers before.” She said shyly, looking down at her boots. Now it was Bucky’s turn to be surprised, how had no one ever bought her flowers, he would never understand. He made a silent vow to himself to buy her as many flowers as he could.

“Oh, well, I’m glad you like them.” He said softly, the corner of his lips turning up in a small but genuine smile as he motioned to the coffee shop. “Shall we?” Y/n smiled and nodded and the pair made their way into the shop. As soon as Bucky opened the door, a sense of comfort washed over him along with the smell of fresh coffee and pastries. The pair shuffled inside and up to the counter. The kid who worked behind the counter on Saturdays came over and took their orders, saying that he would be bringing it over to their table shortly. Bucky motioned for Y/n to pick a seat and she picked the booth in the back of the shop.

“I hope you don’t mind,” She said as Bucky began to sit down, “I like to be able to see everything, makes me feel a little more at ease.”

Bucky smiled, he didn’t mind at all, in fact, he felt much more comfortable at the back of the shop. He was no longer the Winter Soldier but some of those habits are hard to break, like making note of every exit and entrance of a place, keeping a head count on everyone that entered and left, double locking doors, and many other little tics.

“No, this is fine,” he said with a smile, “This is my usual booth.��

She smiled brightly at him and seemed to relax a bit before asking, “So do you come here often?”

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows as he thought about his response, trying to decide how to say it without giving away who he was all at once.

“Uh yeah, a friend of mine brought me here when I was trying to find myself after coming back from a hard time in life.” He internally cringed at his explanation gauging Y/n’s reaction as she thought about his words. She gave him a soft smile and nodded before she spoke;

“Yeah, Steve was a great guy like that, I’m sure it’s been hard on you since he left.” Bucky felt his blood run cold Shit, she does know who I am, she thinks I’m a monster. How does she know Steve? Is she from HYDRA? I knew this was too good to be true, no one would ever want someone like me. His thoughts began to spiral out of control until Y/n tapped on the table to get him to look at her. She gave him a sheepish smile;

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have dropped that on you like that. It wasn’t fair of me. I’m sure you think I’m a spy or something but I promise you I’m not. I was neighbors with Steve for a time. He spoke very fondly of you, even after all of the fighting and horrible things that happened to you and I’m sorry about that. No one deserves what you went through.”

Her words were soft and gentle as if she were talking to a frightened animal. Bucky blinked in surprise, staying quiet for a few moments before speaking again,

“You don’t think I’m a monster?” Her rasped out.

She gave him a sad smile as she placed her hand on top of his, “You’re not a monster. You’re a mirror, a thing that shows the reflection of the real monsters, with the cracks to prove that you lived through it. There is good in you, there always has been. It was the one thing in this century Steve was 100 percent certain of. I trust him and his judgment. I don’t care what anyone else says.”

These words triggered some sort of visceral response in Bucky. His racing heart slowed down, breathing coming back to normal levels, and his thoughts, for the first time in a while, stilled. The incessant hurricane of toxic thoughts and poisonous memories dissolved, leaving clear skies instead, something so beautiful it almost brought tears to his eyes. He looked down at the table and took her hand in his, looking back up with a soft smile.

Y/n gave His hand a gentle squeeze. She knew what he was trying to say, and she didn’t need to hear the words to know what it was. Their orders were brought out and so they shared small talk, which seemed to come so easily but he was taking little notes of each of her responses, not wanting to forget a single detail.

Favorite color? Bue, but not bright blue. Soft, like worn denim.

Dogs or cats? Both are great, but she currently has a dog.

Favorite time of day? Early evening. The world starts to darken and you can just see the stars poking through the colors of the sky.

The longer they talked, the more the storm was tamed in Bucky’s mind and he realized that he could get used to this kind of peace that he hadn’t known in a long time, only if she was there with him.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes x you

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jqnehr · 3 days

Text

❝ 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧'. ❞ | boothill.

boothill x fem!reader.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and boothill meet in a bar, and have a very nice chat (aka, you flirt like mad).

𝐜𝐰: SFW!! no use of y/n, alcohol consumption (it's a bar come on now), bar banter/flirting. (pathetic attempts at) funny haha humour, and ermm well inspired by old 1950s western films (my dad adores john wayne i cannot escape them HELP), but like in the hsr universe yk. this one was meant to be funny because i had a BALL playing around with boothill's CANONICAL censor oh my god i love him. imagine calling him a fucktard and the only thing he can clap back w is "you son of a biscuit-eating bulldog" (what the french toast?) or something idk. can he say that? or can he only say nice things—anyways enough rambling 😔

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: (continuation from above basically) this man i tell you. i can't sleep. can't eat. he plagues me. day in and day out. i do not have the funds to pull for him. how dare he look at me with that sexy smirk? ain't got no money pal sorry. anyways here's a lil thing i wrote in honour of this man making my chronic fatigue worse <3 NOT PROOF READ. it is currently 12:44am as im posting this so there will be MANY typos haha im going to sleep now.

masterlist.

"You look like you should be in a saloon."

The gun-slinging Galaxy Ranger glanced up at the woman who just took a seat beside him from beneath the brim of his hat, drawn from his thoughts. She had taken a seat that was a respectable distance from him, two bar stools down, the message clear that she wasn't here to chat him up and lead him off to somewhere secluded and have some 'fun', but was only here for small talk and a drink. Good thing she wasn't coming onto him, too. Saved him having to turn down yet another woman looking for a fleeting one night stand.

He went back to absentmindedly swirling the malt juice around in his glass. Car oil, basically. He let out a small chuckle. "Ain't the first time I heard that one."

"Yeah? Makes sense. Fit's cool, though." She nodded to his cropped jacket, his spurred boots, his pants with their sides unzipped. She didn't seem to be bothered by the sight of his belt lined with ammo and a holstered gun. "What's that your drinking? Looks like engine oil."

"Malt juice," Boothill humoured her. "Can't drink nothin' else. Perks o' bein' a machine."

"Machine?" The woman lifted a brow, taking a sip of her beer. "Ah, gotcha. You're a robot?"

"Cyborg, yeah." It didn't matter if he divulged in her what he usually wouldn't. It was just tedious small talk, a nice weight off his mind, and he wouldn't ever see her again, anyway. "Got its pros and cons."

"I see." He was starting to become rather surprised at how...nonchalant she was about this. She lifted her beer jug to her lips once more. "So, what do you do for a living? Go around cosplaying as a cowboy?"

"Heh. If ya like, sure." Boothill was getting curious. It was once in a blue moon he came across someone as relaxed as this woman. "Let's say, it's my...signature look. Across the galaxies. Helps people remember me."

"You're starting to sound like a criminal on the run," she laughed lightly, only out of politeness, really. "Considering the people I've come across around here, I wouldn't mind getting you've got a bounty on that pretty head of yours."

"Uh-huh." He swigged the last of his malt juice. "Perceptive of you, sweets. You a local? Frequent?"

"Pretty much." She shot him a glance. "And it seems I was right. Eh, don't worry. I don't care enough about ya to turn you in. How much you wanted for, anyway?"

"A lot." Boothill grinned impishly. "Those IPC cuties keep bumpin' the ‘prize money’ up, if ya like." He made air quotation marks. "Yer'd be set fo' life if ya got yer hands on that money."

"I'm sure I would be." She really didn't seem to care. "If you don't mind me asking, what's your name?"

"Boothill," he answered, inclining his head towards you. "What about you, darlin'?"

You gave him your name, downing the last of your beer, before hailing the bartender over for a refill. "Nice to meet you, Mr Boothill."

"D'aw, shucks, haven't been called 'mister' in a long time!" Boothill flashed a toothy grin, showing off his shark-like teeth. He noticed how you didn't recoil, barely even blinked, at the sight of them. "Makes me wanna buy you a drink, sugar."

"By all means." You're never one to pass such a offer up. "And you like to flirt, too, huh?"

He watched you rummage around in your purse for something. You finally pulled out a compact mirror and checked your appearance in its tiny mirror. He leaned forward, took your free hand, and placed a kiss to the top of it, winking at you from under his cowboy hat's brim. "With such a lovely lady as yourself? How could I not?"

You laughed in a rather unladylike way—you, more or less, gaffawed—before retracting your hand and tipping his hat right down over his eyes, disorienting him. Your cheeks burned. "You're a funny one, Mr Boothill. You sure know how to woo a lady."

He adjusted his hat, huffing, leaning back in his seat. "I wasn't bein' funny. I like ya. I don't just kiss any old woman's hand."

"Got a little crush now, have you?" You raised your beer jug up in his direction as a friendly salute of sorts, grinning. "Cute of you. I like you, too, but I'm not letting you take me home."

"Ain't got one to take ya to." Boothill shrugged, not noticing how your smile suddenly vanished and you were looking at him. "Sons of biscuits made sure I couldn't have one no more, 'cause I wasn't about to let 'em get away with shady things they keep nicely under wraps."

"'Sons of biscuits'...?" You echoed, puzzled. You were also suddenly feeling quite sorry for the man. He was a roamer—a nomad of sorts, never stuck in one place for very long. That, you were instantly able to tell once you first laid eyes on his broad back.

"Someone had a little play around with my Synesthesia Beacon, so now I can't say nothin' mean—I'll try to say honey, honey, ugh. I'm tryna say honey." He tsked in frustration. "See? Can't say it."

"You can't swear?"

"Yep. Very aggravatin' at times. Whenever I wanna yell the s-word in combat, I just say somethin' ridiculous like 'terrific!' or 'groovy!' I sound like a right looney tune."

You chuckled. "I can tell that if you didn't have that censor on, you'd have the mouth of a sewer."

"Heck yeah. I'm goin' to town with all 'em bad words right now in my head," Boothill scoffed. "Love 'em, love 'em, love 'em—see what I mean? Hopeless. Wanna drop the f-bomb real bad."

"Perks of being a cyborg, indeed," you laughed, patting his shoulder. "It's rather funny to see such a tough-looking guy like you run around without anything else to yell but 'unicorns! Cotton candy!' when someone jumps you."

He snorted. "That's about right. Had one cutie pie try to mug me once and I was gonna swear his ear off, but all that came out was "look at this angel!" instead of 'punk', but it's a way more colourful word than that."

"Gotcha." You leaned your elbows against the wooden top of the bar. You opened your mouth to continued, but a sudden commotion at the other side of the bar cut you off. Glancing over also, you and Boothill watched as one drunk mountainous guy versus a scrawny little weasel of a man went tooth and nail at each other.

"How's the skinny one still alive?" Boothill amusedly remarked, leaning his cheek on his fist. "Looks like a cartoon."

"Happens all the time." You watched on rather boredly, almost wincing when the small guy very narrowly missed getting his face flattened by his opponent's massive fist. "Those two baffoons are too drunk to think of anything other than settle this scrap with punches. Makes for a good show, though."

Boothill hummed, before turning back to face you. "Can you fight?"

"Me? Well, I know basic self defence, and when to tell someone's spiked my drink." You pushed the beer jug around on the bar top absentmindedly. "This environment's dangerous for a woman. Gotta look out for myself around here. I should stay away, but I like my alcohol."

He chuckled, gazing at you. "Glad to hear that. You ain't some damsel in distress. You're really somethin', you know that, sugar?"

You blushed at his stare and words. "Oh, get off it. It's something every woman's got to know in life. We shouldn't have to, but we do. It's sad."

"Sure is." He pursed his lips, suddenly grave. He may have been a vagabond in a way, but that didn't mean he didn’t have morals. And then he playfully nudged you. "Ya know, seeing an independent, badass lady like you is real attractive."

You grinned. "Boy, if you were anyone else, I would've slapped you for that. That is an instant red flag for any woman in a bar."

"Well, I'll tell ya right now, I'd never harm a woman unless I had no other choice." Boothill stared at you. "Especially not for my own gain. Hurtin' people ain't fun, even though it's my lifestyle."

You shrugged, trying to ignore his intense gaze and the way your heart rate picked up. "A sad reality, but it's nice to come across a man with manners." You finished off your beer and stood, slinging your handbag strap over your shoulder, giving him a kind smile. "Well, thanks for the talk, Mr Boothill. You're a gem."

He stood after you, the spurs on his boots jingling with the movement, before he took your hand and pressed another smooth kiss to the top of it. Then he winked once more, just as a finishing touch, and your cheeks flared. "Any day, darlin'. Say, how about I give ya my phone number? Have another drink sometime."

"You sure? Your vigilante habits wouldn't get in the way of it?"

He laughed goodnaturedly. "Oho, that's funny, sugar. Nah, I'd always make time for you. Here, hand me ya phone."

So you did, and he swiftly typed in his number, before returning your phone to you. "There ya go. Send me a message so I'll know yours." Then Boothill stooped down to eye level with you, staring at you from beneath his lashes and hat, lifting a hand to ruffle your hair affectionately. "Till we meet again, sweetheart."

With that, and a lingering stare as he strode by, the cyborg cowboy left you stunned, heart pumping, phone limp in your hold. He was gone in a blink, giving you no room to wish him farewell also, so you did it by text.

you forgot to pay the bill for your drink

so I covered it for you.

you owe me one, cowboy

His reply didn't take long, and it made your face burn hotter.

Oopsies 🤭

How about I pay you back by taking you to dinner huh?

His emoji usage made you laugh. And so you accepted his offer.

Alright then

I want steak

Can you even eat?

You liked how he always replied fast.

Nah

But that's fine

Your company's better

Suffice to say, you liked the man's suave manner and flirty compliments. It made you feel exhilarated.

Maybe it was because of his classic cowboy moves. Tipping his hat to you in respectful greeting or goodbye, a gaze much too human for a cyborg, and his smooth gestures that made you hot all over.

Yeah. Maybe it was. But, either way, you couldn't wait to see him again.

#i saw somewhere that apparently boothill was mostly illiterate?? oh well if he this then that last part was ooc ig #anyways this was so fun to write OMG #boothill honkai star rail #hsr boothill #boothill x reader #boothill x you #boothill #boothill x y/n #boothill hsr #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #boothill x female reader

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murdockparker · 1 month

Text

Paralyzed

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: She walked in on a Friday afternoon. Steve needed nothing more than to get to know her--if only he could find it in himself to speak to her.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: just pure fluff, mentions of murder (but not frfr)

A/N: no this isn't based on a big time rush song you're crazy anyway!! I think this is my first real Steve fic? The first real one I got around to posting I guess. Cheers!

It was a Friday afternoon.

Correction, it was a terribly busy Friday afternoon. Family Video was seemingly the place to be, people swarming the building in hopes of renting new releases for their perspective weekends. Steve usually loathed his Friday shifts for this exact reason, countless questions about the new tapes, a dozen or so mothers berating him when a certain movie is out of stock—as if Steve Harrington himself is the reason behind the madness.

But, this afternoon was different.

This afternoon she walked in.

He had enough of the madness, leaving Robin all alone to deal with the wolves for a mere five minutes—he needed to get out of there. With his head in his hands, he sat on an unopened box filled to the brim with different assortments of candy—candy he needed to stock sometime today, a fact he surely couldn’t have forgotten even if he tried. Only two minutes into his escape, Robin came bounding in the backroom, a wild look grazing her eyes.

“Steve,” she nearly panted. “You gotta take over for a minute. This woman is just—ugh—not taking no for an answer! I told her we don’t have The Breakfast Club in stock, but oh no, why trust the employee who rented all ten copies earlier today? Huh? How about we give the girl who makes a little over three bucks an hour a hard fucking time!” Robin was rambling at this point, the words falling deaf on Steve’s ears.

“Robs,” Steve groaned, finally looking up at his friend. “Give me another minute, I have a nasty headache—”

“Me too, Harrington,” Robin sighed, plopping down on the box next to him. “Her name’s probably Debra and she’s a beast in fake leopard print.”

Steve snorted with laughter. “Fine, I’ll head back out there,” he stood up, dramatically dusting off his jeans. “I just don’t know why the hell our help wanted sign hasn’t brought in more folks, we’re dying out here.”

“No one wants to work for Keith,” Robin said simply.

“Damn straight,” Steve pointed, pushing his way back onto the sales floor. The leopard printed demon was nowhere to be seen, much to Steve’s utter relief—he didn’t have the energy to fight her off anyway. Finding his way behind the counter, the doorbell rang out, a pavlovian response nearly spilled from Steve’s lips. “Welcome to Family Vid—”

His heart stopped.

She was gorgeous, like she just stepped out of a magazine ad—the one’s his mom bought, not the trashy shit they sell down at the gas station. Sunglasses adorned her temple like a crown, her hair perfectly falling around the pink lenses. Steve didn’t know what to say, it felt as if he simultaneously forgot all the words in the English language and stuffed seventeen Saltines in his mouth—he was tongue tied.

“Uh, hi,” the girl said softly, waving towards the frozen spectacle behind the counter. “I saw you have a help wanted sign outside?”

Steve could only nod, making a good effort to keep his jaw from falling on the floor.

“Well,” she smiled, the kind that would make babies giggle at the sight, “I just moved here and sorta need a job so…” A resume was placed on the counter before him. It looked professional—way more than what Family Video could ever hope to ask for from an applicant, anyway. Steve couldn’t stop reading it. She was literally an angel, an answer to his very prayers—every one of them. If he had the power to hire her on the spot, he’d be tossing her a green vest from the back without a second thought. Part of him was cursing the fact Keith wasn’t here to interview her this very second, he needed to get to know this girl.

“I-I…” Steve tried to speak, feeling his cheeks grow inflamed with embarrassment. He wasn’t used to being so… foolish around a girl.

“Steve, is it?”

She knew his name.

Of course he knew she read it off his name tag, he wasn’t that thick, but hearing it come straight from her lips? He could have melted directly into the floor and no one could have stopped him.

“Yeah, this doofus here’s Steve, I’m Robin,” Robin appeared by his side, seemingly in the knick of time. “Don’t worry about him, we’re getting him the help he needs.”

The mystery girl giggled. “Ah, I see.”

“You want to apply here?” Robin asked, prying the resume from Steve’s—reluctant—hands. “Oh thank God, we’re dying for more bodies around here.”

“I love movies,” she explained quickly, noting how intently Robin was reading over her simple paper. “A-and I used to work at a movie theater back home before moving here, so I know a lot about the recent releases—”

“I’m gonna be honest,” Robin said, leaning onto the counter, voice dripping with secrecy. “You’re probably too good for this place, I mean, way too good for this shit-hole—”

“I need a job,” she repeated, almost desperately. “My folks forced me to move here and I’m trying to save up to get my own place back in Chicago, I’m not built for this small-town bullshit.”

This made Robin explode with laughter and Steve shrivel in despair. She had an expiration date—a way out of Hawkins.

“Well, I’ll make sure to pass this off to our manager—with a glowing recommendation, of course,” Robin winked.

“I appreciate it!” She smiled again, the sight nearly had Steve wishing he had his own pair of sunglasses to wear—it was blinding. “Well, I hope to see you guys around?”

“We’ll be here!” Robin called out, watching the girl walk back towards the door and out towards her car. A hand smacked across Steve’s bicep.

“Hey!” He finally responded, rubbing the aforementioned spot. “What the hell?”

“I should bring that whiteboard out of retirement,” Robin arched her brow. “You’re positively hopeless, Steve Harrington. What the fuck was that all about?”

“I don’t know, Robs,” Steve sighed. “She was just—I didn’t even know what to say!”

“Clearly,” she snorted. “You looked like a gaping trout—”

“I did not—”

“This was worse than the girl who asked for a Mint-Choco Deluxe and you handed her a straight scoop of ice cream—no cone. I had to practically chase her out with a stack of napkins and a thousand apologies.”

Steve cringed at the memory. “Maybe…”

“When Keith hires her—and you know he’s gonna—you better get your act together. I don’t wanna deal with…this every day.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve waved. “Sure.”

And deal with it, she did.

(Y/N) was her name, Steve had the pleasure of unpacking her new name tag for her first day. He almost wanted to keep it, but figured it would make him look like a crazed lunatic. Patiently, he waited by the front door, hoping to see her pull up in her car, ready and rearing for her first day on the job. Steve begged Robin to allow him the pleasure of training her, given he could somehow speak in her presence, of course. She simply rolled her eyes and agreed to the shift exchange.

A shiny, cherry-red BMW peeled into the lot—Steve noted it looked awfully familiar to his own car, minus the color of course. It seemed a bit out of place in a small town like Hawkins, but the car had suited her just fine. Everything about her suited her kindly, Steve had noticed, especially the clothing she wore. Family Video was no place for a fashion show, Steve could attest to that himself, but with the way she was practically strutting towards the doors? The parking lot was her runway and he was begging to see more.

“Good morning!” (Y/N) greeted cheerfully, pushing the glass door open wide.

“Morning,” Steve managed to squeak out. He pushed the unflattering green vest towards her. “Your uniform.” She easily slipped the fabric over her own shirt, the stark whiteness of her blouse really made the green pop.

“Well?” She spun around, twirling like a princess. “Do I look the part?”

Steve could only nod.

“So what’s the first thing on the agenda? Do y’all have a time clock?”

Steve nodded again, pointing his thumb towards the break room.

“Ok..ay…” She said quietly, walking in the direction she was given.

He could cry—it was so pathetic. The way this girl had him so worked up? How was he expected to train her? No, forget training her, how was he supposed to even talk to her? Steve had been in pickles before, but this one took the cake.

“So you just… don’t speak then?”

She had managed to sneak up behind Steve, who had clearly been deep in thought. Her angelic voice alone made him jump.

“I-I speak,” Steve explained. “I just… have a lot on my plate currently, s’all.”

“I’m sure working at the Family Video is real hard work, superstar,” she giggled, jumping up onto the countertop. “But I’m glad I don’t have to understand your training through charades."

“I’m pretty good at charades,” Steve said, crossing his arms. “O-or so I’m told…”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she smiled. “But seriously, I really thought you just didn’t want to talk to me or something.”

That couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

“So… I should probably show you the computer system for rentals,” Steve tried changing the subject—poorly, but she graciously turned her attention to the computer she so-conveniently sat next to. “Y’know, because that’s like, the entire job.”

The girl leaned in, not daring to remove herself from the counter top, trying to see what Steve was clicking on.

“You seem tense,” she noticed.

“It takes me a while to get warmed up to new people,” he lied.

“What? Like a cat?”

“…exactly like a cat.”

“Well, Steve,” she hopped off the counter, “it’s a good thing I like cats.”

He tried his best to hide the redness flooding his cheeks.

She made Family Video more enjoyable, even after her first shift, Steve thought. He already liked the job enough, spending time with his best friend and getting paid for it was already a huge perk, but now that he got to know her? He might just keep this job forever.

Forever lasted only four months.

“Steve!”

He peeked his head over the horror aisle, finding (Y/N) staring at him expectantly from the front counter.

“Yes?”

“I’m dying over here,” she said dramatically, falling over on the countertop. “It’s so… boring.”

“It’s a Monday morning,” Steve said simply, commanding every fiber in his being to not shrug at the statement. “Mondays are usually boring around here.”

“Everything about Hawkins is boring,” she said, not lifting her face up from the counter. “How do you manage living in this God-forsaken town?”

“I don’t think everything is boring,” Steve scoffed, ignoring the rest of the tapes that needed to be put away. His feet were already leading him towards the counter, as if they had a mind of their own. “I mean, I doubt you’ve run through everything this town's got to offer?”

She lifted her head up from the counter, a red mark gracing her forehead. “In the last four months of living here? I think I have. Hell, the one cool place y’all could have had burned to the ground.”

Steve winced at the mention of StarCourt, the wounds still fresh. “It wasn’t that cool…”

“Fine,” (Y/N) propped herself up, head in her hands, “name one cool place in Hawkins.”

“Skull Rock.”

He doesn’t know why he said it.

“Skull Rock?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve sheepishly said, hand finding the back of his neck quickly. “It’s the go-to for the coolest kids in Hawkins—made popular by yours truly.”

“And what exactly is Skull Rock?” Her arms were neatly crossed by the time he managed to look back at her.

A make-out spot.

“A-an… experience?” Steve squeaked, trying his best to sound cool. “It’s hard to explain, you just kinda gotta go and see for yourself.”

“Huh,” she tutted. “Why haven’t I heard of this Skull Rock until now? Certainly if it was as neat as you say it is I would’ve heard about it by now.”

“It’s underground,” Steve tried to convince her. “Not physically, I mean. It's above ground, I promise. Underground in the sense that only the cool kids know about it.”

She snorted. “Cool kids?”

“Y-yeah,” He tried to double down.

“As in, like, high schoolers?”

“Other people besides high schoolers can be cool kids, y’know,” Steve said, trying his best not to cough.

“Maybe I’ll ask Robin about it when she comes in—”

“I could take you?” Steve is quick to interject. “To Skull Rock, I mean. Tonight, if you’re free.”

A smile crept across her ruby red lips. “Like a date?”

“Pshht, no,” Steve waved. “Like a thing friends do! An activity of sorts.”

“Sounds like a date.”

“An activity,” Steve corrected, feeling queasy at the thought she may actually say yes.

As if mulling over her options for the evening, (Y/N) stared directly into Steve Harrington’s brown eyes, pinning him to the spot with such a glare. “Hm. Alright.”

“A-alright?”

“Do you think I have to change for this ‘activity’?” (Y/N) motioned her hands up and down her body, giving Steve actual permission to fully look at her. Her outfit was already sensible enough—she was here to work, after all—he didn’t ever see a reason for her to change.

“Maybe different shoes?” Steve offered, looking down at her feet, adorned with ruby red flats to match her lips.

“What sort of shoes do you recommend? These are my favorite flats.”

“Sneakers. Something you don’t mind getting dirty—”

“I don’t mind getting these dirty.”

“Something more suitable for the forest,” Steve amended. “Sticks, mud, poison ivy. Would hate for the tops of your feet to succumb to that bullshit.”

“Succumb,” (Y/N) repeated. “Big word.”

“Average word,” Steve mumbled, feeling only a tad bit embarrassed.

“Average is fine,” she shrugged. “I have sneakers in my car. We could go after work?”

—

Six o’clock couldn’t have come faster.

Steve had spent the last few hours of his shift trying to best plan his escape from Family Video—an escape that involved pulling (Y/N) into his car before Robin could tell her what Skull Rock really was. Thankfully, (Y/N) hadn’t had the mind to tell Robin what their plans were after work yet, but he knew it would come.

The minute hand finally ticked to the top of the clock. 6pm on the dot. Steve practically threw off his vest and ran to the wall clock to punch out.

“In a rush?” Robin asked.

“Something like that,” Steve said, not wanting to share much more.

“Well, enjoy yourself Rob!” (Y/N) nearly sang, now standing behind Steve waiting for her turn with the wall clock. “I left the counter nice and warm for you!”

“I know you meant that to sound endearing, but it just sounds gross,” Robin laughed, not even looking up from the book she had been reading. “Get out of here before Keith makes you both work overtime.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” (Y/N) said, pushing her pink sunglasses—which were housed in the tiny locker she used every day—onto her head. “Besides, we’ve got plans.”

“We?”

“Gotta go Robin!” Steve could only shout, pushing (Y/N) out of the small room in the back—it could hardly be called a break room. Containing a small T.V on the wall, a stack of lockers, a small fridge, quaint table and a broken microwave.

“Alright, weirdo,” (Y/N) laughed, “we made it outside.”

Steve hand only blinked, but she was right. Somehow he didn’t recall the jaunt from the break room to the front door, much less the fact they made it out to their cars. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she laughed again, “oh.”

He was sure his face was the near same color as her lipstick—cherry red and probably emitting the heat of a thousand suns. “Are you gonna change your shoes?” Somehow he strung together a full sentence.

“Go start up your car, pretty boy,” (Y/N) said smoothly, “I’ll meet you in a second.”

Pretty boy.

Start up his car, he did. He fumbled through the few cassette tapes he stored in his glove box, eager to find one she’d like. Though a thought like this had crossed his mind a handful of times, he never thought she’d actually agree to go out with him. No, not go out, this wasn’t a date. Right?

She had called him pretty boy.

And he was planning on taking her to the unofficial make out spot of Hawkins.

Maybe it was a date.

“There!” (Y/N) exclaimed, sliding into his passenger seat, showing off her worn shoes. “My well-loved sneakers! Just like you requested. How I allowed you to talk me into going to a random forest is beyond me.”

Me too. Steve thought.

“You’re not going to murder me, right?”

“What!?” Steve had already begun driving to their destination, but her sudden question had him nearly swerving off the road. “No!”

“That’s what a murderer would say.”

“I—why would I…?” Steve was at a loss for words. “If I was going to murder you, don’t you think I’d admit to it at this point?”

“No,” she shrugged, crossing her legs. Her sneakers were red too—her favorite color, perhaps? “I assume you’d admit it right before you kill me, not in transit to the murder location.”

Steve could only laugh. “You confuse me.”

“You love me,” she admonished.

Maybe he did, and if he didn’t? He certainly could see himself, though, sooner than later.

It only took another fifteen minutes of driving to reach their destination, parking his beloved BMW in a spot he knew all too well—part of himself cringed that he could admit that, even to just himself. “We’re here.”

“I’m still not convinced you’re not going to murder me,” (Y/N) hummed, hopping out of the car, a spring in her step.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, popping his trunk to dig for a blanket he knew he had left behind for one reason or another. “Come on,” he ducked his head towards a clearing, “it’s this way.”

“You really have to start explaining the appeal, Harrington,” (Y/N) said, pushing past a rather suspicious looking bush, following closely behind Steve. “This trek is nothing to scoff at.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I thought the murder accusations already confirmed that I did not?”

“Yet you still got into a car with me,” Steve said.

“I still got into a car with you,” she repeated.

As if on cue, Skull Rock, in all of its glory, peeked through the brush and into view—thankfully with no one else around.

“We made it!” Steve exclaimed, nearly impressed he remembered how to get here. Quickly unfurling the blanket he grabbed, he sat on the ground. “Come on, I promise it’s clean.”

“Doubting that,” she said, still sitting beside him. “So, spill it, what makes this place so cool?”

Steve took a deep breath.

“I, uh, may have stretched the truth a bit?”

“How far?”

“Huh?”

“How far did you stretch the truth?”

“Not by much…”

“You’re sweating,” she pointed.

“No I’m not!” Steve said, trying his very best to not look down at his pits, afraid they were betraying him. Looking back up at the girl sitting beside him, her ruby lips were twisted in a wicked smirk. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Nah,” she said, almost sounding honest. “But I also know pretty well what goes on around this rock—sick as fuck, by the way, it really looks like a skull.”

“You know about Skull Rock?” He was nearly dejected, embarrassed, even.

“I do.”

“And you still came here with me?”

“If it meant I could spend some time with you outside of work? Sure,” she said with her brilliant smile. “Though, don’t expect any swapping of saliva.”

“Then why…?”

Her knees tucked under her chin, arms wrapped fully around them. “I don’t have many friends here. You and Robin kind of are it for me, at least, since I moved here. I figured I should try and spend time with y’all before I move again.”

Her big move. The one she was saving up for.

“Back to Chicago, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Though, it’s going to be a while until I do actually move. Who knew trying to rent your own apartment in a big city is stupid expensive? Wait—don’t answer that, that’s a stupid fucking observation.”

“It’s a bit silly,” he agreed, trying his best not to laugh. “But, yeah, way more expensive than Hawkins.”

The sun had begun to set, not that they could see it, through the trees and all, but the sky was now a warm orange. The kind of color that reminded Steve of summer, melted creamsicles and sweet memories.

“What’s in Chicago, anyway?” Steve finally asked, eyes glued to the sky. The question had been on the tip of his tongue since he met her. “I mean, I never really hear you talk much about it—only when you feel the need to dig at Hawkins.”

“It’s where I grew up,” she shrugged. “All of my friends are out there, my life is out there.”

“I mean, you did just say Robin and I were your friends?” He offered, leaning back on his hands.

She narrowed her gaze, pulling her head up from her knees ever-so-slightly. “Most of my friends are out there,” she corrected. “I just… my dad moved out here for work, a job he literally can’t tell us about—my mom is stuck being some bored housewife waiting every night for him to come home, slaving over a home cooked meal, and I’m just his failure of a daughter who works at a video store.”

Steve knows that feeling a bit too well.

“It doesn’t even have to be Chicago,” she chuckled, mostly to herself. “I just can’t stay here. My forward thinking mind is too big for this town. I figure, maybe in the city I can find myself, figure out what this planet has in store for me, you know?”

“I do.”

“You do?”

“I mean, I never had the thought to leave Hawkins,” Steve said, still looking up at the sky—darker now, but still orange. “Especially now with all of the…”

How does he explain the Upside Down? Does he explain the Upside Down? No. She doesn’t need to know. Not yet, anyway.

“…you know, the missing people,” he finally said, finding the right explanation. “But the idea of going to a big city, finding my way and maybe figuring out what this big head is good for?” His self deprecating laugh echoed from under the large rock formation. “I get it.”

“Y’know,” (Y/N) relaxed her grip on her knees, “my mom had hesitations about moving here because of the missing people—afraid I was going to go missing too.”

“And your dad still moved you here anyway?” Steve still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact people would move here willingly, especially all that’s been in the news about their small town.

“I told you, big secret job,” she said, as if that was the only answer. “My dad’s answer to the problem was buying my mom a new kitchen set and me a car.”

“The BMW?”

“Hell yeah,” she snorted. “Though I suppose once I get to the city—any of them, I’ve decided—I’ll sell it. No need for a car if you’ve got decent public transit. I wonder how much I can get for it?”

“Probably less than what you’re thinking.”

“You’re probably right.”

The sun had finally set, leaving a hazy, sort of mystical hue over the rock and clearing.

“You could come with me, you know,” (Y/N) finally spoke up.

“Huh?”

“Get out of Hawkins? Lord knows I’d need a roommate. Rent is gonna be insane regardless.”

He pondered the thought. Moving out of this God-forsaken town with practically the girl of his dreams? It sounded too good to be true. “Huh.”

“You obviously don’t have to answer right now,” she said, nearly flustered. Was she flustered? “It was just a dumb thought…”

“It’s not dumb,” he said steadily, truthfully. “Not dumb at all.”

“What? You’re actually considering it?”

“Don’t ask me things if you’re not serious about them,” Steve joked, pointing at her. “I mean, it sounds pretty perfect. Leaving Hawkins, making a way for myself, trying to not rely on my parents… I dunno. Something to think about.”

She only nodded.

“Of course, I can’t leave yet,” Steve corrected, mostly to himself. “I have… unfinished business.”

“Ominous,” she snorted.

“A man has his secrets,” he smirked, turning to look at her. “Not murder-y secrets, I really can’t stress that one enough.”

“Handsome, funny and mysterious, the full package,” she hummed.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“I don’t want to stroke your ego,” (Y/N) said. “Surely you know you’re handsome.”

“I didn’t know you thought I was handsome.”

“I think everyone thinks you’re handsome,” her eyebrow raised. “Especially all those girls who come in to rent movies I know for a fact they have no interest in. Robin says you had a similar effect back at the ice cream place.”

“You’ve talked to Robin about my handsomeness?”

“I’ve talked to Robin about your obliviousness,” she corrected, “I think there’s a difference.”

He felt like his brain was melting. If he had a mirror, he’d check his ears to make sure no pink matter was dripping out. “But you think I’m handsome?” If the lighting hadn’t been as low as it was, he’d probably be able to see just how dark her cheeks had become.

“Irrelevant.”

He found the courage to scoot a little closer to her. “I mean, I think it’s pretty relevant… considering I think you’re pretty handsome too.”

Her head couldn’t have turned faster.

“Beautiful! I meant beautiful! Not that you can’t be handsome,” Steve felt himself choking on his own foot, falling deeper into a hole he knew he couldn’t get out of. “If you’d rather be called handsome, that’s fine by me, but traditionally, you’re stunning—so so pretty and I—”

“Steve—”

“A-and I’m messing this up,” Steve deflates. The crickets around Skull Rock must have been paid actors at this point. Steve made a mental note to bring a can of Raid the next time he came here—revenge of some sorts. “I can’t believe I’m messing this up.”

Something slightly wet touched his cheek.

“I don’t think you’re messing anything up,” (Y/N) said, pulling away from his face. She kissed his cheek. “I think you’re a little silly and overthinking a lot, though.”

“You kissed me?”

“I kissed your cheek, no need to short-circuit,” she smiled softly. “I figured it was a good way to bring you back down to Earth. Did it work?”

He nodded, a bit too fast for his liking. “Uh, yeah. I think so.”

“Good,” she said, so sure of herself. “You were really spiraling there for a moment.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I was.”

More crickets.

“Would you have kissed Robin on the cheek? If she was spiraling like that?”

“No,” she said honestly. “Just you.”

“Oh.”

“You took me to the make-out spot of Hawkins,” (Y/N) gestured to the rock above them. “Did you expect me to not kiss you?”

“You kissed my cheek,” he clarified, feeling bolder. “I don’t think that counts.”

“Hm,” she tapped her chin in faux-thought. “It probably doesn’t.”

“I could let you try again?”

“Oh you’d let me?” She crossed her arms, voice airy, light.

“Or I could kiss you,” he shrugged. “Dealers choice.”

“Oh what endless options I have,” she laughed, getting up from the blanket. It was only a little scratchy. “Come on, pretty boy, it’s getting late. My mom is probably worried sick I haven’t made it home yet. Probably waiting by the front window with some terrible dinner in the oven, I assume.”

She offered her hand, helping Steve up off the ground. “You’re probably right.”

“This was nice,” she said, walking back to the car. “Thanks for taking me out here, Steve. I finally found the one good thing in Hawkins.”

“Skull Rock is just that impressive, huh?” Steve laughed, his smile reaching his eyes.

“Something like that,” her smile was just as big.

BONUS: “Pop your trunk, I’ll put this nasty blanket away,” (Y/N) said, circling to the back of Steve’s car.

“It’s not that nasty,” he snorted, fulfilling her request. Climbing into his car and starting up the engine, he waited for her to throw the scrap of fabric in the back. In the corner of his eye, he could see her through the mirror, staring intently at the contents of his trunk. “How long does it take to put a blanket away?” He sighed, hopping back out of the car to join her, realizing quickly why she was just staring in his trunk.

“Y’know,” she clicked, “this doesn’t really help the whole ‘I’m not gonna murder you’ thing.”

In her hands was his tried and true baseball bat—still outfitted with spiky nails and the very essence of dried blood.

“I-I can explain—”

“You probably can,” she said, throwing the bat back into the trunk, slamming it shut. “How about over dinner sometime?”

He’d be stupid to say no.

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington x Reader #Steve Harrington x You #Stranger Things #Steve Harrington Imagines #okay fine twist my arm this is loosely based on the btr song of the same name #can't blame a girl for finding inspiration everywhere #does it have a plot? no #do I like pining and love-sick steve? yes

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kuromochimi · 1 month

Text

racer bf wriothesley

racer wriothesley x f!reader

♡ Racer bf wriothesley makes you forget about that toxic ex of yours.

Content Warnings: past toxic relationships, fluff!! + my first genshin fic!

Wriothesley always wondered why you’ve never failed to refuse to go with him on rides. To be more specific, you always refused to join him on rides whenever he’d take his race cars for a spin. He just couldn’t put his finger on the reason why. After all, he met you at one of his races which must mean you had at least a little bit of interest in his sport. You had no problem letting him drive you around when it was with his regular cars too. You’d always say that it wasn’t your thing and you just wanted to watch him race anyway. He never pushed you though. It had only been a few months since you started dating and he didn’t want to tip over the balance you both just recently established however, you could tell that it was weighing him down.

Come to think of it, it was ridiculous for you to refuse hopping into your boyfriend’s race car. For one, racing is literally a part of him and his life and of course, any other woman who knew him would probably be willing to fight tooth and nail just for a chance to have the racer wriothelsey drive her around in his car. Overthinking all that, you finally caved and let him take you on a night stroll. He figured that your previous reluctance might be the result of fear because he knew being in a car speeding over 150 kilometers per hour outside of a race… something like that can be terrifying and he won’t deny it. He carefully buckled you up then carefully cupped your cheek with his hand, gently caressing your face with his soft touch before he gave you a quick but sweet forehead kiss. “You don’t have to, you know? If you’re scared.” he chimed almost as a whisper. You shook your head. “No no, I’m okay. I trust you” he pulled away slowly before shifting his grip to the steering wheel. As he was reaching for the gear stick, you grabbed his hand first. “Yes, baby?” He asked in the softest voice you have ever heard him use. “Wait I just.. it’s just that.. the last guy I dated, well he- you know, he’d usually speed off when he was mad and then he’d stop talking to me and not listen when I’d ask him to stop and I know you don’t speed off because you’re mad, I know it’s your job and sport but I’m just “ before you could finish your next sentence of rushed rambles, he gave you a hug. “You wanna just stay in tonight? Or if you still want to have a stroll, we can just go slow like when we go out for groceries or for ice cream runs” like a light bulb popping on top of your head, the thoughts came rushing. Ah. This isn’t your toxic ex. He’s nothing like that. He listens and he understands and loves so gently and warmly. Maybe it’s only been a few months and maybe you’re both far from sure about how you want this relationship to progress but you were sure, at this very moment, there was no need to be worried or scared.

#genshin fluff #genshin impact #wriothesely x reader #wriothesley fluff #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons

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restinslices · 3 months

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I love your stuff so much, could you write something with the reader getting jealous about Smoke? Someone getting a bit too close to him and the reader feels bad about it. And Tomas finds out and comforts her, finding it endearing.

And I love you💕 Idk why this was kicking my ass so bad. I did two drafts and idk if I like this but this is all I got😔

Word count: 1476

Tomas was not entirely stupid.

Sure he had moments where he'd made something that should've been simple, incredibly complicated but he wasn't stupid. He didn't think so at least.

Anyone who's been around him for the past week might disagree though.

Tomas had just returned from a mission along with his brothers, and naturally he was telling you all about it. If you were being honest with yourself, you weren't really listening. Tomas tended to ramble and his missions were usually the same as the last, so it was best to let him go on and on but still add commentary here and there. “Wow”, “Really?”, “No you didn't”, and other side comments would hold him.

Your ears perked up and you started to listen more when he started mentioning women.

It's not that he couldn't speak to other women or he couldn't have female friends, you weren't that crazy. It was just the way he was describing them. Great fighters, moving with the wind, long flowy hair that danced in the sun. It was compliment after compliment, and as much as you hated to admit it, it made your heart squeeze.

“Wanna tell me how they all looked in detail?” You said sarcastically. You expected Tomas to hear your sarcasm, realize what was wrong, apologize and keep telling his story. Instead he just chuckled and said

“Then we'd be here all day”.

Unfortunately for you, the day got worse.

Another woman whose name you hadn't memorized was all over him. Giggling at jokes that weren't nearly as funny as she pretended they are and finding any reason to touch him.

You should've said something. You should've communicated your feelings. That's how relationships are supposed to work.

But you didn't.

On one hand, you thought you had every reason to be jealous and if Tomas actually cared for your feelings, then he would've picked up on this and apologized. On the other hand you thought you were being unreasonable. Tomas couldn't help if some ditzy bitch liked him. Plus, you never told him how you felt, so you couldn't be mad at him for not understanding. In the same breath though, why didn't he tell her to get off of him and why did he feel it was necessary to describe how great these other women he met were?

You were arguing with yourself for a solid week, and each day that devil on your shoulder got louder. After all, if Tomas did care about how you felt, he'd stop entertaining that girl. Everytime she was near, you left. Didn't you absence bother him?

But once again, that damn angel got in the way telling you to just be honest with him. He'd understand. How can you be mad at something you hadn't communicated upsets you?

But communication came with shame. How would you look telling Tomas that you got a little butt hurt about him talking about other girls and a girl that kept flirting with him? He'd either understand, or he'd be upset. That's how relationships fell apart, right?

No. It was the lack of communication.

Maybe?

“I'm gonna throw myself down the stairs” you mumbled.

“Why?” he asked.

You somehow forgot he was there. You and him were in charge of washing dishes for the week, but neither of you had been talking.

“I just hate washing dishes” you said, not completely lying.

It went silent again, the only thing filling the air being the sounds of you washing and him rinsing.

Then that silence was broken.

“Are you ignoring me?” he asked. You didn't know how to answer. You didn't mean to ignore him. You were just in your head a lot.

You didn't answer and he sighed. “Did I do something?”

“No” you answered without thinking. It was a reflex at this point. Tomas over thought things a lot and you'd have to remind him not everything was on him. Telling him he wasn't at fault was natural, but you weren't sure who was at fault now.

“I mean… I don't know. It doesn't matter”

“It does to me”

“Does it?”.

You closed your eyes and breathed slowly. You were being way too harsh and you knew it. Tomas was asking you to share what was going on in your head, and you were saying no?

You opened your eyes again. Your mouth opened a few times, trying to figure out how to put what you were feeling but it never felt right.

“I don't know how to get this out. It doesn't even make sense in my head. It won't make sense out loud”

“Just say it anyway and I'll ask you questions if I'm confused”. You wondered how Tomas was so good and patient and wondered if he learned that from one of his parents. Or maybe his sister. Either way, you mentally thanked whoever he learned from.

“Ok so, I just feel- no. No, I should explain first in chronological order. You came back and then… actually that sounds really accusatory”. You groaned and looked over at him “can you just tell me to shut the fuck up”.

He smiled a little and shook his head. “I wanna hear it. We have all day”.

“It's late at night. That is not true”. He didn't respond and he wouldn't until you confessed whatever you were thinking.

“Chronological order then…”, after some more stumbling and backtracking you managed to get it all out. Why you were jealous, when it started, how conflicted you felt and how ashamed you felt for being jealous in the first place. The whole time he just listened, nodded, and furrowed his brows at some parts. You couldn't tell if it was confusion or anger.

“I didn't mean it that way” he said when you were done. “When I said 'then we’d be here all day’. I just meant there was a lot of them, which I realize now still sounds bad but I didn't mean it in some 'they were just too beautiful’ way. I didn't hear your sarcasm”

“And I just kept conversation with her to be nice. I don't know. I didn't wanna seem rude”

“Being rude can go a long way”

“I guess. And I noticed your absence, I just didn't know why. I figured you needed space for whatever reason, so I didn't bother you”

“I think it's impossible for you to bother me”.

Once again, he smiled and let out a small laugh. You looked back down at the soapy water and that's when you felt like a complete idiot. You were worrying him when you could've been had this conversation.

“I'm an idiot”

“I don’t think so” and you could tell by his voice that he was smirking. “I think you're just really in love with me”

“Ok buddy”. You rolled your eyes, even if he was right.

“It's cute”

“It's embarrassing”

“Loving me or-”

“Being jealous. I haven't been that jealous before with anyone else”

“I'm not like anyone else”

“You're white. You're quite literally like everyone else-” Tomas flicked water your way, some of it getting in your eye.

“I'm gonna kill you”

“You wouldn't. You'd get jealous over the Grim Reaper”. You frowned but he kept smiling that stupid smile that was both loving and antagonistic. Then he laughed. A nice heartfelt laugh that ended up making you crack a smile.

“Are you smiling because I'm laughing?”

“Absolutely not”, you lied.

“You really got a thing for me”

“I've never met you a day in my life”

“That's even more embarrassing then if you're that in love with me”. You went to make another smart comment, but he bumped his shoulder against yours “hey”, he said softly. So soft it threw you off guard. “I think it's cute. You're like a little guard dog”.

“Were you dropped on your head as a baby and now your social cues are scrambled? A guard dog? I'd prefer if you stabbed me. Here-”, you went to grab a knife but he caught your hand. Any other time you would've hated this. Both your hands were soaking and something about the feel of that made you skin crawl, but you guessed you could deal with that.

“I think it's cute that you love me so much. I just wish you'd be more honest about what you feel. I was worried”.

You cringed. You supposed that was your fault. You and your dumb brain making shit complicated, which is something you swore was more of a Tomas thing.

“I'll be better. I promise. I'll start now”

“Now?”

“Now. The texture of you wet hand makes me wanna die. Please unhand me”. He couldn't help but laugh as he let you go, and you couldn't help but laugh as well.

You didn't know what you were laughing at.

You were just happy to be laughing together.

Finally getting back to requests. The crowd goes wild. Tumblr has this big space between lines so I cannot tell if the format is weird and I should add more space or if I’m tweaking. Oh well.

#mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #tomas vrbada smoke #tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas vrbada fluff #smoke x reader #smoke x you #mk1 smoke

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fictionalgap · 4 months

Text

The Heat

(chapter 1)

Pairing: Chef! Abby Anderson x Cook! Reader

Summary: Abby is a chef and you are a cook working for her. You get distracted everytime she wears someting that shows her arms. Abby gets mad at you because you are not focused on your job.

Warnings: 18+ themes, swearing, sexual themes, nsfw, mdni

Song Recommendation: Delicious - Ruby Amanfu

Inspired by @d3arapril 's post

"Jesus! What's wrong with you?"

You took the potatoes one by one from the floor.

"Sorry, chef."

You got up from the floor, potatoes in your hands. You faced with your new chef for a couple of months, Abby.

You gulped as you cleaned the drops on your face with a cloth you usually tuck it in your pocket.

"Really, what's going on?" She raised her right brow.

"Nothing, chef. " You lied.

Abby sighed heavily. It was damn fucking attractive when she looked like 'she was done with it'.

You were even attracted to her breathing and it was getting really pathetic and serious at this point.

You were attracted to her since you saw her the day you came into this kitchen for job interview.

Her face, her voice, her smell, her presence, the determined and harsh look in her eyes…

Her arms…

It was the very first day of work when you first saw her arms. She was wearing a sleeveless light blue shirt that matched her eyes.

You knew working for her would be an honor. You just had to follow orders.

You thought It wouldn't be hard to follow orders If they are coming from her.

You did as she said without hesitation and quickly. She was pleased with you as much as you can tell.

There were times that you came up with ideas and those shocked her, probably in a good way cause she still didn't fire you and agreed on your adjustments on menu. She didn't comment on them in front of others. It was understandable. Jealously in kitchen caused mobbing.

The problem was, your feelings and your attraction started to grow more and more each day.

You would start to drool on job thinking her fucking you in the pantry against the shelves.

"I am sorry, chef! It won't happen again."

"You said the same thing the last time we talked about this. Do you need a break or-"

"No,no. I am good, chef. I promise!" you tried to convince the woman in front of you.

"Hm…" she made a sound that made your pussy cry for help.

It was really hard to work like this.

"Are you avoiding me?"

"What? No,no chef! Never. What made you think that? " you rambled in a breath with widened eyes.

"You turn around whenever I come... "

"No, no. I'm sorry It looked like that chef." You explained in desperation.

It was true though. You avoided her. How the hell were you supposed to work with this hot woman when she was beside you.

"Hm…" she held her own chin while she was thinking.

"Raymond! You take the order five, too." she told your coworker and pulled your hand to take you outside, to the back of the restaurant.

"Cigarette?"

You nodded and she held you a cigarette and you took it between your fingers.

"Thank you."

She lit up her cigarette and turned to you to lit yours up too.

"Y/N. whats going on? " she let the the smoke out to the side and then turned to you.

You wished she blew the smoke on your face.

You sighed heavily. How could you tell her that she should wear something with sleeves because her arms were so fucking distracting.

Every time she lifted her arm to inhale the smoke your eyes followed her arms.

This time it was too fucking obvious.

"What, is there something on my arm?" She asked obliviously. She looked at her arm then looked at you, questioning.

You blinked to her question. You instinctively licked your lips and gulped without moving your eyes from her arm.

"I-I I uhm I I just I, uhm... "

Her questioning, oblivious face turned into a playful smirk. Her eyes got smaller and shinier. There was something else.

Mischief.

No. . . Something darker.

Yet sweet.

She took a step to you as If she wasn't close enough.

"Now, that can't be the reason you were so distracted for weeks, can't it? " She looked like she was having fun. She looked amused.

You felt bad. Were you just a amusement to her? Something that she will tell her friends when they were hanging out.

Like ' Yeah, there was this girl who couldn't function because she was drooling over my muscles. '

You gulped. You couldn't answer. She started to laugh. She moved over and you could feel her breath over your face. You blinked again an again. Her smell was mesmerizing.

Her eyes darted to your lips and your eyes darted to her lips. You licked your lips.

"Chef! We need you inside! " Raymond came from the kitchen but stopped when he saw you two.

"Ugh.. Uhm I-" His thumb was pointed to the kitchen door. He had a shocked expression on his face.

He must have felt the tension.

"Coming! " Abby growled. Her jaw clenched.

He went back to the kitchen quickly.

She looked into your eyes with a smile.

"Don't worry sweetheart. I'll take care of it."

She did something you didn't expect.

She put her thumb on your lips and caressed them with it.

"I'll take care of everything..." she whispered.

You automatically opened your mouth and she took the advantage of sliding her thumb further into your mouth.

She got closer to your ear and whispered.

"That's all you can get right now. " then she left quickly without taking a look at you.

You looked dumbfounded at the door which is slightly moving back and forth because of Abby's entrance.

'What just happened? ' you breathed heavily.

Taglist: @valenftcrush @elliewilliamsgf69 @hayatistirahati @rubycruzsbitch @kyleeservopoulos @d3arapril @scarletchase1989 @chrry1ovr @scarletchase1989

#abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby the last of us #lgbtq fanfiction #lgbtq #sapphic #sapphic fanfic #wlw fanfic #wlw #tlou

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lovearthur · 17 days

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How would Arthur react if reader thought it would be funny to shave half of Dutch's mustache?

𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 (𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒈𝒏!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓡𝓔𝓐𝓓! gn!reader . dating arthur . horseshoe overlook chapter . dutch and molly mention . arthur can not stop giggling and laughing at dutch's failed facial hair

u thought it'll be funny.

well to you, yes, but dutch himself? maybe not...

as the sky changed from pretty orange-yellows to dark blues and black into the darkness of the night and u made sure everyone either turned in for the night or were drunkenly passed out before u quietly made the way to the tent that held in miss molly o'shea and dutch van der linde. molly was in deep sleep by now, sleeping like an angel even. dutch was sleeping as he was sitting on the wooden chair, close to molly. u took a few steps closer to dutch, the floor creaking slightly with each step.

u kept ur touch light and fragile as u angled dutch's face just right. his facial hair was thick, black, and real untidy. u never saw molly offer to help him out, so what if you just tidied it up? aslong as u didnt nothing bad, itll be fine. and u did just that. u carefully dragged the cut-throat razor across his prepped chin and jawline, tidying up the hair on his face. he did move slightly here and there, but u moved just in time so u didn't mess up, but as u continue, it felt like there was a devil on ur shoulder all of a sudden. what if u just... cut off a little more? just a little, no one will notice.

no. u wouldn't dare. he was the dutch van der linde, he should u kindness when he picked u up from the streets. but then again, itll grow back.. but no, u wouldn't.

after trimming his hair, u decided to cut a little extra, just a trim. nothing more, nothing less. u dragged the razor once more. “[name], what're ya doin'?” u flinched as a rough voice asked u. u swiftly turned around that u didn't realise u cut half of dutch's moustache off. “nothin'! i aint doin' nothin'..” u protested in a soft voice while u had the razor behind ur back. a low chuckle left his lips with that smirk on his face. "yer quite the woman, ain't ya?"

u cocked ur head to the side slightly since u didn't know what u meant until u turned to Dutch. his moustache was almost gone. u must have shaven it off without realising. u quickly made ur way to Arthur in case u woke up dutch. "sh-shit, arthur! he's gonna be so mad- i didnt even mean-." he wrapped an arm around u as u panicked slightly, but of course, Arthur found this hilarious. “it's alrigh', darlin'. it's alrigh'.. he ain't gonna be mad. he might not even notice.” he says, trying to contain his laughter at the sight. “'course he'll notice! it's dutch, he ain't gonna like it.” u rolled ur eyes in a playful manner as u nudged him.

u were sitting on Arthur's bed while he was sitting in the chair. his elbows on his knees as he was cleaning his gun with gun oil while listening to u rambling on about ur day yesterday since he was away, doing something for dutch as usual. after a little while, he quickly hushed u. with a nod of his head, signalling to listen to dutch and molly. “dutch.. love, what happened to ya?” molly asked softly as she looked up at dutch. “im fine, my dear.” he replied, softly dismissing her words. “i dunno, dutch.. yer hair on yer face is a little off.” arthur interrupted as he walked over to dutch. he looked in a hand-sized mirror, and his eyes widened slightly. u noticed arthur trying to stiff laugh, and so u nudged him in the ribs, reminding him not to make his laugh noticeable. dutch wasn't impressed, to say the least.

“goddamn it...” dutch mumbled under his breath.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr fanfic #rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #dutch van der linde #divider credit to florietas and chaefilm

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obsessive-valentine · 5 months

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I just adored your mad scientist hc post and was wondering what their life would be like. Like would y/n go to school? Would they be allowed friends? Would the scientist ever seek out a mother figure for his child? (Or make one himself???) I'm srry if this is a ramble I just love platonic yandere fics lmao.

Platonic!Mad-Scientist + Experiment!Reader (PT2)

We love rambling around these parts anon, the best ideas come from conversations ❤️

Some world building of life after escaping the lab with platonic mad-scientist. TW brief mention of murder

Life would be pretty simple in the little terrace house on the quiet part of town, the house is kept clean and homely a very harsh contrast to the office he lived in for most his life back at the lab. He still collects specimens, making his home office like a little museum - he also still fiddles with things making odd inventions from the locals scrap.

In fact that’s how you both have become beloved members of the community, he offered to fix something for a neighbour and did such a good job people sought him out. He also makes things for you, like how you loved music so he’d fix up music boxes or how you loved a certain animal or bug that he made a little mechanical figure of it that swam/flew/walked.

He wouldn’t see the point in letting you go to school though, despite how friendly the people are, mostly because he’s smarter than any teacher they have; he’s practically a genius when it comes to math, science and history. But it’s also because he doesn’t want you becoming to independent.

Despite not going to school you’re still seen by the towns people-very often- when you tag along with the scientist when he’s running errands or shopping. You’re always well dressed, good manners and happy so there aren’t any suspicions, if anything, admiration for such a dedicated father. Most of your ‘friends’ are the older people who run the shops, there’s not many opportunities for you to play with other kids your age and he makes sure of that.

Definitely takes you to the pictures and restaurants often, probably a weekly thing or more. I mean he’s basically retired due to being payed plenty during his days in the government labs, so aside from small favours for the towns people and personal hobbies (dissecting and mechanics probs) he really is just a house father; leaving ample amount of time to take you out on cute little evening dates.

Because he’s so dedicated to your upbringing it’s very unlikely he’ll become romantically involved with a woman and no chance he’d seek it out for himself. He might if it benefited you but truly doesn’t believe you need anyone but him, he’s incredibly smart and not just book smart but emotionally evolved with you, there’s nothing he can’t do that a mother would do for you. He himself isn’t interested in romance but I wouldn’t rule it out completely, just unlikely.

You both spend most mornings doing school work together then he lets you have free time as he cleans or cooks, then in the afternoons he’s usually in his study fixing, building or dissecting and recording in one of his thousands of accumulated note books. He doesn’t mind you sitting with him while he does this or even better helping. After this sometimes you both go into town or if it’s a quiet day you both stay home and cook dinner.

At some point you’re sent to bed, he sticks to a strict bedtime only to be broken on birthdays or holidays. He will tuck you in and read a chapter from the book he bought not so long ago. He doesn’t sleep as much as you, usually he returns to his study or sometimes he sneaks out and gets rid of a certain problem person that’s been a bit rude to you or him, he only tolerates stuff from his darling child who can do no wrong, other than that he does have a bit of a temper. No one will miss a ill-mannered person anyways.

#mad scientist #yandere #yandere oc #+reader #platonic yandere

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the-kr8tor · 1 month

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Hi I love your fics!!! Can you do one for the twins au where Ramona and Billie are maybe 4 or 5 and they start to notice Hobies British accent and start talking like him and saying British phrases. Like he asks them something and they just go “nah bruv” or there are just little instances throughout there day to day lives that reader and Hobie start to notice, where they use his slang at different moments at home, at the store, and it all comes to a head at school (cue parent teacher conference cause they asked a “kid are you mad bruv” and the teacher needs clarification lol). They’re able to watch a recording of their interaction during playtime with the student like you know how some schools have cameras where you can watch your kid now. Him and reader are surprised at how well they imitate his accent and try not laugh in front of the teacher but they tell them they can’t repeat everything daddy says and when readers not looking gives them a little proud wink and they giggle lol!!

Thank you for the adorable request! I changed it up a bit hope you don't mind ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Mom! Reader, Dad! Hobie, Billie and Ramona AU, Twin AU, fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You feel like a kid again sitting on the tiny, clearly not for adults chair. The classroom smells of crayons and glue, the walls are painted in every color of the rainbow, posters of numbers, letters and animals are taped on the walls. Flitting your eyes behind you to check on Billie and Mona, you see them build a house using blocks, mumbling to each other. They're wearing matching sweaters today (per their request,) bees and flowers adorning the thick fabric. And ribbons in their pretty hair. Mona rambles on to her sister about lego whilst her sister listens.

Hobie sits next to you, he doesn't look any better than you. With his long legs and arms, half of his body is the only part of him sitting on the pink plastic chair. Butt half hanging on the side, legs tucked, arms around his legs, back slouched— you bite your lip at the sight, trying your best not to laugh at his state.

Hobie senses your snicker, and you feel like you're back in school again when you quickly turn your head away, pretending you weren't looking at his lanky self struggling to sit on a kindergartener's chair.

He narrows his eyes, taking the teacher's erasure off her desk, flinging it towards your direction– hitting you right on your head. It bounces off and you gasp at the audacity. Faking innocence, Hobie whistles a nonchalant tune, eyes pretending to scan the poster of the alphabet tacked on the chalkboard.

“Really?” You say, smiling through it whilst picking up the fallen eraser.

“You started it.” The father of your children teasingly says as if his girls aren't just behind him playing blocks. Way to set an example.

“Nuh-uh”

“Yu-uh”

You threaten to toss the eraser at his smug face. He shields himself with his arms, chuckling under it. The door opens and you two straighten up, putting back the stationary on the teacher's table like nothing happened.

You definitely feel like you're a kid again.

“Sorry I'm late.” She apologizes, yellow dress swinging as she speed walks towards her table. “Lots of parents, so sorry.”

“That's alright,” you smile at the preppy woman, your hands on your knees, all prim and proper in front of your girls' favourite teacher.

Billie and Ramona had a hard time adjusting to school, but once Ms. Jenkins got them out of their shell, they would always ask you and Hobie if there's school the next day, or what kind of lunch they'll have for recess because their new friends apparently don't like raisins. They love to share, just as long as they eat theirs. So you always pack extras for their friends even though either you or Hobie have to wake up earlier than usual.

You like Ms. Jenkins, she's bubbly and awfully good at her job. One time Billie got sick and couldn't go to school, she personally contacted you to ask how she's doing and even got the entire class to make ‘get well soon’ cards for her. She's a sweetheart really, and most definitely likes your kids. But what has you nervously pick at your nails is that she called you and Hobie in personally for a PTA meeting. Her little note is stapled on the school's notice about the annual meeting, indicating that she needs to talk to you and Hobie.

Said man, scooches his chair closer to yours just to hold your hand while Ms. Jenkins settles on her own chair.

“So Billie and Ramona—” she starts and you hear the girls stand up abruptly from their equally tiny chairs.

“Present!” They cheerfully exclaim at the same time.

Hobie chuckles in his seat, “you run a tight ship, miss.”

“It's alright, my loves, go play.” You say in between soft laughs as you twist in your seat to look at their smiling faces. It all makes Hobie squeeze your hand tight—love overflowing through every squeeze.

Ms. Jenkins laughs, “they love attendance time, I always see them hyping themselves up before I call them.”

“Adorable.” You coo.

“So back to business,” she clasps her hands atop the desk. “Their grades are phenomenal, I know they're still just babies and grades don't usually matter in their level, but they're crushing it.”

Hobie gives you a look, wordlessly telling you, ‘we did that’

You nod, silently replying. ‘hell yeah, we did’

“They’re friends with the whole class.” The teacher continues “Yes, it was quite a hurdle for Ramona but she conquered it with the help of Billie. And when Billie needed help with maths, she helped her there without Billie asking for it.” She smiles and you feel sunshine come out of her. “They're the perfect team.”

“That's brilliant then, why the note?” Hobie asks before you could.

“They are a delight to have in class, but—” she winces. “They have been using some…colourful slang recently.”

“Oh no,” You look at Hobie in the corner of your eyes. He shakes his head innocently at your accusation. “Was it a bad word?”

“Not particularly, uh, it's all fine and dandy, like calling their mates ‘bloke’ or ‘bruv’—”

Hobie lets out a snicker, accidentally interrupting the teacher with his laugh. You glare secretly at him.

“Right, sorry, not funny at all.” He tries to save face. “Continue, Miss.”

“It's alright that they use it but I find that they've been using it more frequently and just last week they disrupted class when they uh…” Ms. Jenkins leans closer, elbows propped on her desk, whispering her words like a secret. “Yelled during movie time to say ‘that’s the dog's bollocks’ in reference to the amazing animation.”

Hobie looks like he's dying whilst trying his hardest not to laugh. Hands clasped on his mouth, shoulders shaking, lungs wheezing and eyes tightly shut. You swear, you even see a tear clinging to his lashes.

You're not the greatest example either as you tightly press your lips together, also trying your darndest to not laugh.

You try to keep your composure even though Hobie's practically losing it next to you. Even Ms. Jenkins hides her grin.

“I'm so sorry—” you accidentally let out a giggle before inhaling deeply to tamp it down. “We'll talk to them once we get home.” Your stomach hurts from restraining yourself.

“That's great!” She clears her throat, doing better at composing herself than you and Hobie. “That's all, thank you so much for coming! There's cookies and juice in the hallway.” Standing up, she holds her hand for a handshake.

You shake her hand while Hobie's still losing it in his seat. “Thank you, Miss, have a great holiday.” You're a bit better at hiding your laughter but if Hobie let out a guffaw right now, you're for sure to follow suit.

“You too!” She smiles, “bye, Bee! Bye, Mona!” Waving her hand, the girls happily wave back.

“Okay, let's go.” You had to lift Hobie up from his seat or else he'll be glued to it while his body wracks with silent laughter.

The second you and your little family settle inside the car, Hobie lets out the loudest laugh, you follow a half second later, the sound echoing in the vehicle.

Billie and Ramona look at you two confused, hands pausing from devouring their snacks.

“I think they're proper bonkers.” Mona whispers, leaning towards her sister, and Billie nods in agreement.

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justanamesstuff · 10 months

Text

The intimacy of being understood

Chapter 1

Matty Healy x f!reader

A/N: I'm so excited and SO terrified about posting this fic. I've fallen for this concept since the first moment I thought about it, I've been having so many feelings writing this sooooo I really hope you guys like it! Let me know what you think, feedback is ALWAYS welcomed!! Happy reading, guys :))

Warnings: breakups, fame, hurt feelings, typos.

Word count: 2 k

Blog Masterlist Series Masterlist

After a quick lunch, eaten at the back surrounded by boxes full of books ready to be sorted out, Kate stumbled in. She was Y/n's friend since kindergarten: one day she pushed some kid –Y/n didn’t remember him– who made her cried and Kate pushed him out of a little chair. Small Kate turned around, offering her tiny hand, and Y/n stopped crying. Nothing came between them since, maintaining a very strong friendship.

Kate didn’t work at the bookshop with Y/n, she didn’t have the money to pay someone else to help her. She did good money enough to maintain the place and rent a small flat not far away from the shop. Even though, Kate constantly showed up wanting to spend time with her, sharing the latest gossip of her office or ramble about one of her ex-girlfriends she bumped into while helping her with the books.

“She looked amazing- Holly fuck!” Kate’s tone drifted from a normal one to a gasped whisper, interrupting herself.

Y/n looked firstly to the front door, leaving the spreadsheet on the counter; checking if someone was happening outside. She couldn’t see anything through the window.

She decided to ask Kate, “What?”

“Look.” it was very rare hearing Kate whisper, she was all out, a true extrovert. Her friend’s finger pointed to the other side from the door.

Y/n turned her head, still hearing the sound of the angel caller she hanged in the entrance as a bell for when a new customer entered the shop. Her eyes finally fell on a very familiar man.

“I’m looking, but I don’t see anything weird.” Y/n copied her tone, looking how Matty roamed through the different categories. She felt strange about him not greeting her as usual. Y/n reassured herself, ‘it must be a reason’. Her eyer returned to Kate.

“Shhh.” Kate startled her best friend with the sound when nothing really happened. Y/n glanced at her as if a new eye showed up in the middle of her forehead.

“What’s wrong with you today?” Y/n inquired. “Sorry, but I’m not following you.” she sentenced.

Kate checked Matty was turned to point a finger in his direction. “That one…” she turned her head like a mad woman. “That’s Matty Healy!” Y/n’s friend said with a hissing voice.

Y/n was so confused, “Do you know him?” maybe he was a coworker, that happened many times before.

“Oh my god!” Kate let his arm fell, rubbing her face dramatically. “I forget how out of this world you are.” she glanced towards the floor as if she was trying to look for answers.

“Still not having a clue over this.” Y/n let eyes returned to the paper work she needed to get done.

“Matty Healy doesn’t ring a bell inside this mind of yours?” Kate tapped her left temple.

Y/n brushed her off, trying to think about it, even when the full name didn’t bring a bell.

“Name plus surname no. Matty comes here all the time.” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Kate stared, trying to decide if she was messing with her or not. “You’re full of shit.”

“No, I’m not. He’s really nice.” Y/n turned the page, writing numbers here and there.

Matty was indeed a very regular, he had been for more than a month by that moment. Y/n fell quickly into conversations with him when he dropped by. She didn’t give the casual friendship too much thought until that moment.

“Oh, really?” Kate folded her arms, smirking with Y/n’s words. “How nice?”

Y/n couldn’t believe what she was implying, so her sight flew to her friend's face, being the one to search signals that told her she was kidding. Kate wasn’t, she really wanted to know.

“No like that!” the bookshop owner moved forward and beyond Kate’s body to check he wasn’t hearing their conversation. Y/n sighed loud watching him so far from them.

“Mmm…don’t believe you.” Kate kept pushing her to talk, only gaining a red tint showing on Y/n’s cheeks.

“He started coming here like a few months ago. He looked stressed as fuck…he excused himself saying someone was following him, I’d thought he was talking about a mugger not- whatever he has…fans? I don’t even know.“ Y/n explained.

Kate nodded. “Crazy fans.”

“Well, he stayed a lot over the back of the shop and after- I don’t remember how long… he came back carrying a children's book. I think it was ‘The very hungry caterpillar’, and I got excited over it.” Y/n tried to avoid her friend’s eyes at all cost.

“Of course…” Kate’s voice full of irony.

“He was buying it for his godson and since then he started showing up here and there…he never explained what he does for a living, I don’t even care.” Y/n admitted.

Kate let her hands fell on top of her chest. “Such a cute story”

“I can’t believe he’s famous.”

“Yeah, you live under a rock.”

“No, I live inside the real world.”

“Liar.” Kate accused her. “You have your nose inside a book every time I open that door.” she pointed to the front door.

Y/n gasped and turned, saying, “Aren’t you supposed to help me arrange the new saga?”

Kate groaned loud. Y/n felt Matty looking their way, but didn’t dare to make eye contact.

“Why I offered my free time again?” her friend asked.

“You own me! Remember how I had to pick your ass at 4 am at that Soho party you chose to tried to get in and got kicked out?” Y/n felt good teasing her back for once.

“Thanks for reminding me that.” Kate eyes’ returned to Matty, who moved to sit at the big sofas adoring the centre of the shop. “I’ll go to the back. Shout when he comes over here.” she begged.

Y/n boobed her head up and down in a dramatic way, pursing her lips at the same time.

“Mhm, definitely going to do that. Be sure I’ll do exactly that.” Y/n spoke to Kate’s back walking away.

“I need to see if he’s really handsome indeed.” she whispered from the door leading to the storage room.

“He is.” Y/n added just to mock her.

“Agh, you’re so mean!”

“Work, now!”

Y/n waited until Grace was far away to focus on Matty. He was still sitting on the sofa, now with a book on his lap but looking at the ceiling. She decided it was a good moment to approach him.

“Hey.”

Matty got startled a little, too deep into his thoughts to acknowledge the sound of her feet approaching him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to…” Y/n felt sorry to scare him.

A big smile showed up in his face, changing all his demeanour. “Hey there. Don’t worry.”

“I couldn’t stop to notice- I mean, maybe you want a moment of quiet, and I’m disturbing you but…sorry.” Y/n grew self-conscious under his attentive eyes. “What I’m trying to ask is, are you alright?”

Matty felt his heart skip a bit, “You’re the first person to ask me today.”

Y/n frowned, checking her clock. “It’s 3 pm.” she stated.

“I know.”

“So I assume this is not your best day.”

“Not at all.” he said, still smiling, contradicting his own words somehow.

Y/n decided to change the subject.“What book you chose?” she pointed to the book resting unread.

“Everything quiet at the front.” Matty read the title.

“Uplifting I see..” she joked, and Matty laughed. The sound reached her ears and warmed her heart.

“‘m sorry I didn’t say hello earlier.” Matty apologized. “Didn’t want to interrupt your conversation with the other girl.” his hand pointed towards the front desk.

“She’s my best friend and personal nightmare…Kate.”

“Where’s she now?”

“At the back, she owns me a few favors so…”

“Mhm.”

“Well, I’m going to stop bothering-“ Y/n started excusing herself.

Matty interrupted, clarifying, “You never bother me, Y/n.” Her name coming from his lips felt different.

“Good to know.” her cheeks were burning. Y/n turned around towards her desk but desist in the middle of the action. “Can I suggest you changing the book?” she asked, looking inside her tired eyes.

Matty gave her a signal, adding, “Which one you say is better?”

“It’s a play in fact…’The Seagull’ by Chéjov. It’s also sad but easier to read, I think.”

“Interesting.” Y/n felt maybe she should’ve kept her mouth shut. “I have to go now, sadly, but I’ll be back soon to read it.” Matty told her.

“I can pack it for you. Have one over he-“ Y/n’s mood lifted a little with the last part, proposing packeting it for him, although she interrupted her again.

“No, I prefer reading it here the next time I come.”

“Okay, suit yourself, Matty.” Y/n looked down, not really knowing what to do now.

“I’ll see you soon, thanks. Say hi to Kate for me.” Matty scratched the back of his head.

“Oh, that nice…for sure, I’m going to retransmit that.”

“Bye.” Matty lift his hand, waving at her from a few meters far from her.

Y/n followed his form, walked towards the door, and once outside get lost between the people coming and going.

Kate showed up from behind the storage door, smiling wide at her friend.

“If I wasn’t so stoked about one of my favourite singer of all times knowing… remotely… who I am, I’ll say that man is sad but down bad for the library girl.” she wiggled her eyebrows.

“Stop bluffing and celebrate a little.” Y/n tried to distract Kate.

“Y/n…”

“I don’t want to hear it!”

They had that conversations for months, almost a fucking year, and Y/n knew it as if was a play she wrote. Kate would insist about her dating again, she would say she’s not ready –which was the truth– and her best friend would be sympathetic about it even though she would keep insisting.

“I saw pictures of that man in love…I know, a bit, how he is.” Kate tried to persuade Y/n.

“Kate, you really don’t know him. I don’t know him far from Matty, the guy that comes here from time to time.”

“Do you want to know more about him?” she took her phone out.

“No.I don’t. I respect his privacy.” Y/n was pushing her away, closing herself. Both friends knew that.

“You can’t wound me with this.”

“Fine.”

“Come on! Forget he's fucking famous…he's fucking hot, and he wants you-“

Y/n closed her eyes tight, “You don’t-“

“He does. I feel it.”

“Why you have to sexualize this?”

“Because it what he exudes, my love.” Kate placed herself at the other side of the front desk, where Y/n was trying to look busy with books and papers.

“I don’t want to hear anything else, okay?” Y/n stared at her eyes briefly.

“Y/n…I know that what you’ve been through is a lot to recover your heart from, but you know he’d want-“ the mention of his wishes angered Y/n, who pushed a book down with too much force.

“No, I don’t. He never spoked about it because we were meant to spend the rest of our lives together, and then…” Y/n felt tears pooling in the corner of her eyes.

“Oh, my love…” Kate ran around the counter. “Come here.” she hugged her friend. “I’m here, I’m here. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t do it.” Y/n said into her shoulder.

“Okay, okay. I understand. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s too soon.”

“Mmm…it’s never too soon to have a new, famous and hot friend.” Kate tried to lift her mood.

Y/n snorted, “He’s hot.” there was no reason to deny it.

“Right?! That’s a start! Baby steps…come on, girl! You can do this.” Kate took Y/n’s face between her hands, staring into her red eyes.

“Let’s get back to work, please.”

“Would you take me as an employee if I quit my job?”

Y/n titled her head, “You love your job.”

“But I’d love to see Matty's butt flying around.”

“Could you stop sexualizing my customers, please?”

“No when they’re Matty fucking Healy!” she shouted while returning to the back.

*****************

Taglist (let me know if you want to be included): @indierockgirrl

#matty healy #matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfiction #miniseries #matty healy x y/n #the 1975 fanfic #matty the 1975 #matty x reader

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