#which is understandable I don’t like cups much either

[azullumi]

trying different types of kissing with scaramouche?💔 like forehead, neck kisses, hand or anything at all....

“say yes to heaven” ; wanderer/scaramouche

summary — ultimately, he really does just want to be loved, behind the many layers of him to hide all that yearning and longing. but how can he say it when love, for him, was a synonym to forgiveness; alternatively, different kisses with him, with each one signifying a progressing relationship.

pairing — scaramouche/wanderer (w/ gender-neutral reader) ; could imagine this with either but i wrote this with wanderer in mind

tags — established relationship, fluff, a little bit of angst, not proofread, 1.1k ; ficlet

note — i needed an excuse to write a fic that is just all about kissing him and also comforting him (but still, i hope u like this nonnieee!!)

i. hand

You hold his hand and press small kisses on his knuckles, a little bit ticklish it was for him but he doesn’t retract. The feeling of it makes something in his chest ache with an unfamiliar sensation, and he knows it’s not his heart because he never had any.

You kiss the back of his hand, an intimate gesture, like devotion, like he was something—or someone—that should be adored.

“I am no god.” He was no deity to be worshiped so why are you so gentle to him? He wasn’t made of glass nor is he fragile; he was born from ashes of a burned home, he was carved out of war and winter storms and everything that you could ever pray against, he was a symphony composed of nothing but bad luck and conflicting melodies—he was not the kind people would choose to be around, much less adore.

And as if you bear a part of him in your mind, you understood what he was trying to say, could hear the questions that tormented him, could see the conflicted look on him as he looks at you with a gaze that seems to scrutinize your being when only he is looking for an answer. He tries to look for a crack, a gap in your expression, so that he can look through it and see what you’re really thinking.

“You don’t have to be one to be loved.” You press one last kiss on his hand just as you finished speaking, looking up to him. Indigo blue orbs met yours in a gentle gaze, eyes filled with affection only for the other to drown in. If he could put all that he was feeling, all that he was asking and seeking an answer to, into a simple word, it all condenses to: why?

“Do you still have doubts?” You ask, despite knowing the answer. He opens his mouth only to close it again, looking for the words that he should say but chose to be silent instead. And you smile—not a beaming grin nor a subtle paint on your features, but something gentle and comforting as if you’re assuring him: it’s okay, I understand you. I know you.

“You’re not unloveable.”

Loving him wasn’t the hardest thing to do, it came to you naturally as if breathing but the man thinks otherwise. A burnt child who loves the fire will only hear the fact that he is loveable, people just choose not to.

“How do you know that?” You know him well enough to hear the way his voice trembles at the effort to allow himself to be vulnerable. Long was the fall of the tall and formidable walls that he built around him.

“You’re not unloveable.” You repeat, taking hold of his fingers to kiss his hand once more. “Am I not enough proof of that?”

ii. forehead and cheeks

You cupped his cheeks and kissed his forehead, an unspoken language of tenderness in which he took a long time to understand. When love and affection has finally been given to him after decades of yearning, he’s unsure of how to hold it in his hands—does he gently hold it with both? Every bit overwhelms him to the bone, the gratifying yet intense feeling seeps through his being and settles inside of him in a way that it slowly consumes the crevices of his mind, until all that is left of him is nothing but a starved man who only longs for the feeling of your skin against his own.

There was a flicker of warmth in his expression and he closed his eyes as he relished in your kindness, your hands cradling his cheeks with warmth that coaxed his entire existence, your lips pressing against his forehead softly. Then, you started to pepper his face with small kisses and the man could only surrender to your touch, a dance of vulnerability and intimacy as he crumbled into your hold.

No one has ever come this close to him (a closeness that was a stranger to the pages of his past, a tender note composed solely for him), no one and nothing.

You spoke, murmuring against his skin and close to his lips: “Sunshine.” Humor weaves through your tone, teasing the absurdity of the mismatched title and the man who wears it with subtle grace.

“Don’t call me that.” He snarks yet no bite. It’s ironically funny how you use that nickname on him despite him being the complete contrast of it; he stands as the living paradox of the word itself.

The sound of laughter bubbles up in your throat and you answer, “Why not? It suits you perfectly, don’t you think?”

What else should you call the man who grasps the warmth and tender light in his chest only the sun could give? To be with him was to sit in the autumn sunlight, to sleep in the comfort of your sheets when the rain patters against your window, to walk barefoot on the sand even if it feels like shards of glasses against your sole, to be with him was to simply exist; you’ve never met anyone who had the sun for a soul and he has never met anyone who had the stars in their eyes, and while you had the universe etched on the palm of your hands, he has your name engraved on his.

iii. lips

Your lips ghost against his own, albeit in a tantalizing manner, teasing and quite slow—but he wasn’t a patient man.

“Are you going to kiss me or what?” He whispers and you don't waver at his straightforwardness, having been used to this note. There was no hostility in his tone, just pure and raw desperation and desire to feel you.

You could imagine the eye roll he would give you had he not had his eyes closed at the moment, could imagine the frown on his expression while he spoke and could imagine it faltering soon when you finally kissed him, slow as if to savor the softness of his lips and how it reminds you of spring; he could not properly express the warmth on his chest at the thought of how you love him when he still tasted of heartache and war.

You part from him but remained close, foreheads pressed against one another, breathing heavily, and looking into each other’s eyes. You wanted to tell him that you will find him in every lifetime, but the silence between you two was enough to convey such strong affections that you could hear him respond: And I will love you in each one.

(And he somehow finds himself thinking at the same, this is what he deserves. He’d do these, these vulnerable moments where he lays himself bare for you to touch and hold even if you’ll see the scars and cracks on his skin, the falling and getting hurt despite the fear, the burning and constant searching for something, he’ll do it all over again—if it’s you.)

If someone were to ask him what forgiveness tastes like, he would utter your name—everything that he has ever longed for came in the form of you. And he fears that this longing will last forever even while you’re here, that this longing will grow even when he crumbles to dust, that this longing will outlive this body and weave life into the earth that swallows your existence.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche x you #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche imagines #scaramouche x reader #wanderer scaramouche #genshin wanderer #genshin impact wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer fluff #wanderer genshin #azul.writes

[moonstruckme]

“Wow,” Morgan sighs happily, “I don’t know which one of you is more whipped.” 

i'm so obsessed with this line from one of your recent spencer reid works and i would loooove to see more of this dynamic if you're interested in doing it 💗 maybe more moments of them being soft/whipped for each other and the team noticing it? thank youuu!!

Thank you lovely!

cw: mention of kidnapping (more a backdrop than anything)

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 1k words

Spencer really wishes he’d remembered his gloves. The air is biting, fresh powder glistening on the deep green spruces whose boughs stoop under its weight. It’s picturesque, and yet the snowfall couldn’t have come at a worse time. It’s impeded their search party by hours, potentially dooming the kidnapping victim they’re all braving the weather for. Spencer keeps his hands stowed in his coat pockets. 

“Hey.” 

He turns as you and Emily come up behind him. You’re both dressed better than he is, actual winter wear as opposed to the tweed coat he’d worn into the police station that morning. Even so, your cheek and nose are look chilled as you smile at him. You carry a disposable coffee cup in each hand. 

“Hi,” Spencer says, taking the one you extend to him. His numb fingers are grateful for the warmth of it. “I thought you guys were interviewing the uncle?” 

Emily’s shaking her head before he’s finished speaking, mouth pulling in discontent. “That was a dead end. He and his sister have been estranged for years. He doesn’t know anything.” 

A frown tugs at your features as Emily talks but you perk up quickly when you feel your boyfriend’s gaze. “We figured we’d be more helpful here,” you say brightly, “and also that you might want some liquid reinforcement.” 

“Thanks.” He does a little toast with his disposable cup and regrets it immediately, but thankfully you smile. Spencer isn’t sure how he got so lucky; it seems like he can get away with any number of weird things and you’ll find them endearing every time. “There hasn’t been much progress here either. If they left any sort of tracks, the snow covered it up. I’m not…” he lowers his voice, angling his head away from the others in his group. “I’m not sure we’ll find her alive in this.” 

“We’ve still got eight hours,” Emily points out. 

She’s right, he tells himself. There are eight hours left in the forty-eight hour window. But that’s also just a statistic. And as someone whose brain is packed full of statistics, Spencer knows that they’re not always reflective of reality. The eight hours his team has left might be more for hope than anything else. 

Emily drifts ahead of you in the group and you bump your shoulder lightly into his, forcibly derailing his train of thought. He looks over at you. Your lips are tipped up, just a little. Not faking anything, but understanding, a quiet promise that regardless of how today turns out, you’ll be in it together. He finds it easier than expected to return your smile. 

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Your hair curtains your face as you look down, unzipping your jacket to dig something out of the interior pocket. “You left your gloves at the station.” 

“Yes.” You laugh at his eagerness as he takes them from you. “I can’t believe I forgot them, thanks so much for bringing them.” 

“Of course, it was no problem.” Your eyes skim the trees. Spencer suspects that if your face weren’t already so pink it’d be coloring now. “I figured you might need them, so.” 

“You were right.” 

Your gaze flits to his as you grin, then falls to where he has his gloves held bunched with his coffee cup. “Oh, do you want me to take that so you can put them on?” 

“That’d be great,” he says, relieved. 

He holds the cup out to you. You reach for it, but when your fingers brush his in the transfer, you gasp, covering his hand with yours. 

“Spence,” you say softly, remonstrance gentled. “Your hands are freezing!” 

“They’re not as bad as they were before. What are you doing?” 

You’ve taken one of his hands in yours and appear to be inspecting it closely. “Checking if your fingernails are blue.” 

“They’re not,” he laughs, though he lets you finish your perusal until you’re satisfied. “I would know if I had frostbite. I’d be able to identify the symptoms early on.” 

“They’re just so cold,” you fret. “I’ve never felt skin that cold before.” 

The tops of his hands are still freezing, but his palms and the pads his fingers have warmed from the coffee cup. “I’m not sure they’re colder than your face,” he says, pressing his free hand to one of your cheeks. 

Unsurprisingly, your skin is cool to the touch, but you smile warmly as you push your cheek into his palm. 

“Okay, you two,” Emily says without turning around, “less fraternizing on the job. 

You straighten immediately. “We were just—”

“Being cute and coupley?” Uncannily, Morgan appears on Spencer’s other side. He has no idea when his nosiest coworker had drifted back from the front of the group. “We know. But could you save it for the hotel later? Even all the sparks flying off you two can’t melt all this snow, and I want to get out of here sometime before dark.” 

Spencer suspects his face is about as red as yours as he looks down to pull on his gloves. Morgan relishes in it, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“And don’t think I didn’t notice that you brought pretty boy here a coffee and not me.” He tsks. “I didn’t expect such blatant favoritism from you, sweetheart. I’m disappointed.” 

“I was carrying yours,” Emily says, her tone conveying an eyeroll so effectively she doesn’t need to follow through with the action. She pushes a disposable coffee cup into Morgan’s chest. 

He doesn’t look one bit sheepish as he takes it, though Spencer notices you trying to repress a grin that’s bordering upon smug. 

“This has lipstick on the lid.” 

Emily shrugs. “I finished mine in the car.” 

“So you started on mine?” 

“I sampled.” 

“You’re lucky I exhibit such blatant favoritism,” you say quietly to Spencer under their bickering. “I finished mine in the car too.” 

He raises his eyebrows, and you shake your empty cup as proof. Spencer takes your hand, wrapping it around his coffee cup. “We’ll share.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x bau!reader #bau!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook loves to see you smile and you are the god of mischief.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff / word count: 2.6k

content/warnings: mention of childhood insecurity, mention of biting during s*x, jk is very touchy, they watch a movie and the guard thinks they’re doing sumn nasty bc they’re both a menace honestly 😭, jk accidentally bites his lower lip and bleeds

> in which masterlist!

note: hi !! this is a repost of a drabble i wrote two (?) years ago but accidentally deleted lololol so if you’ve read it before that’s why! but this is now an edited version with a new title <3

—

“baby,”

jungkook calls your attention out of nowhere, pausing the movie playing on the tablet you’re holding. the frown painted on his face is difficult to miss.

“i have a question.”

“so randomly?” you raise an eyebrow. “ask me then.”

“why do you cover your face when you’re happy?”

the wide-eyed look of genuine curiosity on his face is identical to yesterday’s, when he asked you what the word ineffable meant after hearing it in a song.

the question prompts you to take a glance at the screen, where a sophisticated woman has a hand over her mouth as she giggles with her elite acquaintances about an old but classic rich husband joke.

“it’s not that it bothers me, i just- i’ve noticed it lately and i-i wish to see you smiling and laughing more freely, you know?” he tries his best to choose his words carefully, offering you a kind smile as he lovingly caresses your head. “it makes me happy when i see you happy.”

“oh,” you blink at him, mind going blank as you attempt to form an answer in your head. his touch isn’t exactly helping you either— you just want to melt into him and not think of anything at all, float on cloud-nine and stay there forever.

however, seeing as he asked you the question out of the blue, he must’ve been thinking about it a lot. you’ve only been dating for a few months, so it’s understandable for him to eagerly seek the answers to his curiosities and observations. if anything, it feels nice to learn he gives this much attention to you— possibly notices things you don’t even know about yourself. for a split second the thought crosses your mind, that beyond a consciousness, you are tangible and real.

“it’s a habit i guess? when my teeth were falling out for the first time as a kid, i became insecure, so i decided that i’d just smile without showing my teeth from then on. like this.”

you demonstrate by lifting up the corners of your lips.

“and yeah-”

as if he’s helplessly pulled by the magnet of attraction, he leans down to kiss you and interrupt your sentence.

“i’d cover my face when i couldn’t contain my smile or laugh. and even when they grew back, it felt weird. like my smile didn’t belong to my face? if that even makes sense.”

“yah, that’s not true! you’re very pretty whether you’re smiling, or crying and-” his warm hand cups your cheek, and he stupidly grins as he’s about to say something cheesy. “even when you’re just breathing.”

the corners of your lips rise again. this time, it’s genuine.

“oh? how romantic.” you scrunch your nose cutely, and his heart flutters.

you hold onto his wrist, revelling in the way his thumb softly traces shapes on your skin.

“i’m over that, though. it was so long ago. i don’t think about it obsessively anymore at least. it’s really just a habit i haven’t gotten rid of.” you reassure him, meaning every word that you say.

we all have our secrets and fears that we keep only to ourselves, that much is understood between the two of you. there are circumstances in which withholding information is necessary. however, the one big promise you made to each other is to never lie. honesty and trust. ease and consolation. every word, every syllable hanging from your lips an addition to the naked history of your love. passed down stories. confessions. blurry memories. shutter sounds. curses. laughter. song dedications. that much is true.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you bite the inside of your cheek to conceal a smile, beguiled by his love drunk eyes seemingly stunned by your mere presence beside him.

“like what, baby?”

you shy away from his gaze. “like you’re either thinking that i hang the stars on the sky every night… or that you want to eat me alive.”

to confirm your words true, he takes your hand and sinks his teeth on the flesh of your palm where your thumb is connected. his wide doe eyes peer at you innocently, sparkling like of a little kid eating the fluffy pancakes he’s been craving since last night.

the latter might sound like a joke to others, but jungkook does eat you alive. almost. basically. you’re not even shocked at the act anymore. soon enough, you’ll memorize the mark of his teeth carving their mark on your skin, both in sexual and non-sexual setting.

“babe,” you send him a bewildered stare. “i really don’t think i taste as good as you make me out to be.”

he parts away with his eyebrows knitted in disagreement. “not true. you’re yummy.”

“oh, shut up!” you burst into a fit of giggles. your hands automatically attempts to fly to your face, but he has your wrists bound with his secure grip. you don’t resist. you only laugh harder when your sight lands on your hands tangled together.

“there’s ____’s beautiful smile.” he coos, proceeding to pepper your face with appreciative kisses.

and you fold. your back lands on the soft mattress, and your belly starts aching from laughter when he purposely blows on the spot on your neck where you’re most ticklish. hot tears gather at the corner of your eyes, and jungkook watches them fall down your temples as his lips graze your skin and your body shakes underneath him.

tears of joy and pleasure are the only tears you’re going to shed, he promises himself. you’re going to smile and make flowers bloom everyday, he promises you and the earth.

—

your teeth chattering from the cold is a shy away from your awkward smile, he notices the endearing resemblance as you shiver beside him.

“hmm, what did i tell you about cinema one?” he teasingly asks as he draws back the armrest that serves as a divider between the two of you.

“that it’s fucking cold in there-” you surrender, tone sounding annoyed. “here. whatever!”

“and who still decided to wear their smallest pieces of clothing?” he continues to taunt you while he pulls you into his body’s natural warmth.

you sigh, whether it’s in relief or annoyance, you’re not quite sure.

“i just wanted to wear my new cute clothes.” you whisper-shout.

the giant screen is still playing trailers of the upcoming movies this year, and you’re already mentally updating your calendar to accommodate them despite your hectic schedule. a two-hour vacation, you would always describe films.

he chuckles, and more shivers run down your spine at the deep and raspy sound being so close to your ear. “you do look cute today, baby.”

he catches the cloth of your skirt between his fingers, and somehow, he ends up squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh. you swallow thickly, unconsciously closing your thighs together and trapping his hand in between them.

“thank you, handsome.” you grip his wrist to move it away. you tut. “no silly business, though. i really want to watch this movie.”

his shoulders drop dramatically in disappointment. “okay… want to sit on my lap so i can keep you warm then?”

you look behind you to see that there’s no people sitting on your side, so no one’s view would get blocked if you were to agree to his proposition. the room is practically empty, with a few scattered people sitting on the sides.

you spend the first fifteen minutes of the movie in comfort and bliss, with your boyfriend’s arms wrapped around you. he took off his jacket earlier, and he splayed it over your lap as to not neglect the goosebumps rising all over your freezing legs.

“so stubborn,” jungkook muttered under his breath while he was taking off the jacket, an amused smile etched on his lips. you would’ve felt bad, but you knew he likes doing these things for you, so you only playfully stuck your tongue out at him.

look, to be fair, it is your first time in this cinema. you’ve been on many dates at this theater with jungkook, but for some reason, you’ve never watched a movie in cinema one until tonight. it’s cold in the other three cinemas as well, the kind of cold you’ve gotten comfortable with, so when jungkook booked the tickets last night and told you ‘it’s really cold in there, wear something warmer,’ you thought he was just being ridiculous.

hah, how cold could it possibly be? right?

fine, jungkook is right. you are stubborn.

and you prove it once more when a flashlight shines over your face. the security guard holding it approaches your seat- wait, no, jungkook’s seat. jungkook is your seat. what?!

“i’m sorry, but only one person can sit on the chair. please comply.”

you trace the direction of her eyes to find jungkook’s hands tucked underneath the jacket on your lap, resting on your inner thighs to steal their warmth. you send him a sharp glare, but it doesn’t affect him one bit. he only shrugs, obviously hiding a smirk as he pretends to be the most innocent person in the room.

you pull up the armrest next to you with a pout, slipping back into your original seat against your wishes.

“he was just warming up his hands. i promise!” you whisper not so subtly to the guard.

she only clears her throat and awkwardly nods in response, walking up the stairs to observe the rest of the movie watchers.

you bury your face in your hands as your body vibrates with mirth mixed with humiliation, and jungkook’s jaw nearly falls on the floor.

“sometimes i can’t believe you’re real. how do you never get shy?”

“i was just clearing things up!” you whine, hitting his arm using the side of a closed fist, which he massages with a squeaked ‘ouch.’ “you’re the one who put me in a compromising situation!”

“well, nobody told me taking care of my girlfriend was a crime!”

you carry on with watching the movie after that embarrassing scene, and you’ve forgotten that you’re cold until you’re uncontrollably shivering again. you begin rubbing your arms in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the goosebumps, but you eventually abandon all hope.

you sadly look over at your boyfriend to plead for help once more, but he has gotten too engrossed with the film to feel a pair of shaking pupils beseech him intensely. he finally opened the box of popcorn he’s been saving for the climax.

and he was the one who wanted to do something other than watch the movie.

you grimace.

you are no stranger to his confusing attention span.

after carefully studying the room to ensure the guard is no longer in sight, you unceremoniously climb on jungkook’s lap again. your actions cause some pieces of popcorn to fall from the box, and he scrambles to stuff them all in his mouth before the powder stains any of your clothes. yours are new, after all.

his face displays a puzzled expression, screaming i thought this was supposed to be a compromising situation?! and his soft rosy cheeks on the other hand-

“you look like a chipmunk who got caught in the headlights stealing food with its mouth full.”

the screen flashes a frame of the clear, blue sky in the aftermath of a ferocious storm. it sends the fleeting sunlight to shine on your face— just long enough for him to capture the image of how pretty you are when you giggle, and most of all, how your hand moves to cover your face, but drops on his arm before it could reach its intended destination.

he recognizes it as a conscious effort, and he feels a tug in his heart. his sweet, precious lover. you will never do anything wrong in his eyes, he thinks to himself as he hugs you closer for a kiss. the feeling of your smile against his lips might just be one of his most favorite things in the world.

he pulls away with a toothy grin to match yours, offering you the box of popcorn. the beautiful smile you claimed to not belong on your face lingers as you turn it down and sip on the lemonade instead. and then it simmers down to your usual mellow smile, to a deep frown, until your lips quiver as the resolution of the film reduces you into a puddle of tears.

jungkook likes to keep mental notes about you.

an excerpt from today:

1. how to make ____ smile? act cute.!! :)

2. how to make ____ cry? watch a son and mother reunite after eighteen long years.

p.s. i think i cried harder, but quieter ????

3. how to make ____ angry mad furious? kill off the said mother unnecessarily at the end of the movie for the sake of shu shock value.

the lights turn on all at the same time as the credits start rolling down on the plain black screen. your body slumps back on your boyfriend, drained by the series of overwhelming events that transpired in the past two hours. he waves his hand infront of your face, but your eyes remain unfocused and unblinking.

“this is the worst movie i have ever seen in my life. four out of five stars.”

he snorts at your unseriousness. “that is the most stars you’ve given this month. and it’s the 29th.”

“see? it’s the worst! i’m going to have nightmares!” you cry out with an exaggerated shudder, grabbing his forearms to envelope yourself in his embrace.

“honestly, pushing her off the cliff was a bit too mu-” his sentence gets rudely cut off when your shoulder accidentally hits his chin. you scrambled to go back to your seat, and this escalated to him accidentally biting the inside of his lower lip. the unusual mix of the bitter and salty taste of metal permeates his tongue as an unexplainable expression spreads across his face.

on the other hand, you’re too preoccupied with mischievously smiling at the guard standing down on the floor. she measures you up with a displeased look worse than earlier’s, but much to your relief, she proceeds to walk out after scanning the room one last time.

“baby!” jungkook yells in pain to grab your attention, jutting out his bottom lip to show you the wound that you inflicted.

“oh my god- shit, shit, shit-” you curse, digging your hand in your bag in search of your handkerchief. “i’m so sorry!”

you press the cloth on the bleeding, profusely apologizing to him with a wince. “i panicked! i’m sorry, i’m sorry!”

he pushes your wrist away for a moment, doe eyes squinting at you accusingly. “you just wanted to play around with her, didn’t you?”

you chew on your bottom lip, the sight of blood that has stained the handkerchief sends a pang of guilt across your chest. “sorry… her face- she was just so funny.”

“fuck, why are you like this?!” he throws his head back with a bright laugher that echoes throughout the theater. “ah, you’re so adorable!”

“come back here!” you scold him, holding his face in your hands to crane it back down.

he juts out his bottom lip again, but his body continues to vibrate with lighthearted chortles.

“does it hurt?”

“it hurts…! i think i might seriously cry!” he answers despite his high tolerance for pain, distorting the truth so that he could drown himself in the gratifying feeling of being doted on by you.

he writes another mental note as you inspect his wound, repetitive bloopers playing in the background of the love bubble the two of you share.

4. ____ likes playing games with strangers. must protect with my life.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

[rileyslibrary]

Ghost is training you on interrogation techniques and thinks you’re a lost case. He’s wrong.

———————————————————————

He unfolds a case of what looks like surgical equipment on the wooden table.

“Are you going to check my teeth for cavities, Lt.?” You joke, but he doesn’t laugh. He never does.

He picks up something that looks like a wrench and shows it to you.

“What’s this for?” He asks, to which you reply, with the utmost confidence that it looks like that tool your grandfather used when you were a kid to break the bathroom door because you locked yourself in there.

He shuts his eyes and holds his breath.

“See, I didn’t want to eat my vegetables, and-”

“Enough.”

“That’s what I told them; no more veg-”

“Stop with the focken veggies.”

“You don’t like them either, huh?”

He lets out a long exhale and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t think you’re fit for this.” He finally says.

But you are. There's a reason why you are here, and it’s because you’re damn good at your job. Sure, you never learned how to conduct an interrogation the way Ghost understands—in a physical and rather brutal manner—but, you had your ways.

“I beg to differ, Lt.” You oppose him.

“You can beg as much as you want, soldier,” he replies, “but you’ll never be able to make someone beg for mercy.”

You look at the interrogation tools on the table and point at them. “These are unethical, by the way.”

“These,” he says, “serve a purpose for the job and are perfectly legal.”

“So is farting in an elevator,” you reply. “Totally legal to do, yet sorta sucks for everybody else.”

“You should have gone to law school if you’re so passionate about ethical matters,” he says, “but you’re definitely not fit to be here.”

“The captain thinks otherwise.”

“The captain is wrong.” He mumbles under his breath.

“What’s that?” You ask, cupping your palm over your ear, “Are you defying the captain now, Lieutenant Riley?”

“No, I’m jus-”

“That’s against the Army Leadership Code,” you state and shuffle through your bag to get the rulebook. You open it up and clear your throat. He looks at you with that tool in his hand, eager to start plucking your fingernails one by one. Instead, he chooses words.

“I know what the guide says-”

“PAGE 45, PARAGRAPH SIX,” you shout like you’re reporting for duty, “IF AN OFFICER DISOBEYS THE-”

“Stop this instance!” He cries, but you hear none of it. You carry on undisturbed by his roaring voice. You’ll recite the entire book if that’s what’s needed. He leaves the tool on the table and approaches you, posing as an authority figure and yelling in your face. You stop for a minute and turn to look at him, explaining that what he’s doing right now is also against the code, and continue reading out loud.

“FAILURE TO OBEY A MILITARY ORDER BY A HIGHER UP-”

He throws his head up, closes his eyes, and raises his hands up to his temples.

“For the love of god and all that is holy, soldier,” he cries, “please stop talking.”

You close the booklet and throw it on the table. There’s dead silence. You approach him with a smug face and lower your gaze—but not your head—to the ground.

“Well, guess what, Lt.” You ask, and he opens his eyes to look at you.

“You just begged,” you whisper, “and I didn’t have to use any of your,” you gesture with a sneer at the tools on the table, “cheap cutlery.”

He keeps looking at you, confused. You pick a scalpel from the case.

“I thought you didn’t like my tools, soldier.” He says.

“I don’t,” you reply and pull an apple out of your bag, “but I need to cut my fruit.”

He throws his hands to his sides and looks at you, defeated, as you peel the apple.

You stop midway.

“Is the scalpel sterilised?” You ask.

“Of course, it’s sterilised!” he shouts, “we always sterilise our tools as per the rulebook!”

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost call of duty #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #ghost cod #cod ghost #cod mwii #ghost cod mwii #cod mw ghost #ghost cod mw2 #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley fanfiction

[inuyashaluver]

can you write a jessie x hockey!r, where r gets into a fight during one of her games and jessie is watching from the stands with some of the chelsea players? thx

cheeky - jessie fleming

jessie fleming x reader

description: in which your girlfriend brings her friends to her cheeky girlfriend’s game

warnings: jessie still plays for chelsea!! let’s pretend ucla offers women’s hockey 🫠 swearing, mentions of a fight, suggestive

a/n: you guys don’t understand how much this request has infiltrated my tiny brain, thank you you so so much, my love, enjoyyyyy

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, jessie were quite literally some of the nicest people alive. every time someone was around the two of you for either a short or long time, they came out feeling lighter, happier and all round just more positive.

you and jessie just radiated love, a special bond between the two of you that was just undeniably beautiful.

—

you and jessie met at a college party years ago. you both went to ucla yet never crossed paths until this party. you weren’t really a party goer and neither was jessie, you both found refuge in the backyard of the house you were at.

both of your friend groups had unknowingly ditched you and you both wanted some air, away from all the drunk frat boys and sorority girls.

“sorry, do you mind if i sit here?” you ask the brunette where she sat on a small bench. her head snapped up from her phone at hearing a familiar accent. canadian.

“oh, yeah, go ahead!” jessie stutters, scooching over a little and patting the spot next to her. you smile at her gratefully, sitting down with an exaggerated huff.

jessie lets out a laugh when you sat, both of you looking at each other with bright smiles. you both thought the other was breathtakingly gorgeous, feeling like the party was a little worth it at this point.

“you sick of seeing people basically fucking each other everywhere too?” you ask her with a shake of your head, your eyes falling on a couple making out in a way that should definitely be behind a closed door.

jessie chuckles, looking down at the cup in her hand and nodding while taking a sip of it. “that and my friends ditched me” she rolls her eyes, you nudge her shoulder with yours, “mine too, don’t worry” you grin, making her return one shyly.

“i’m (y/n) by the way” jessie smiles, repeating the name in her head that she would surely never forget.

“jessie” you smile at her, pink cheeks a little evident on the both of you when you made eye contact again.

“sorry if this is weird but are you from canada?” jessie asks nervously, your eyes widen comically, your face brightening at the girl's question.

you didn’t really have many friends from back home who came to the states for college. sure there was a bunch of canadian girls at college but none of them were this pretty. or this easy to talk to.

“i am! don’t tell me you are too?” you question, jessie smiled at your excitement, her heart beating quickly at your glistening eyes. she nods, making you start rambling with where she was from.

you both continued to chat and it was scary how much you had in common.

the conversation was full of laughter, shared jokes and most definitely a shared attraction. “so, jessie, what do you do besides being an environmental warrior?” you say cheekily, the girl scoffs, slapping your thigh gently and rolling her eyes,

“i play soccer” she mocks, you give her an impressed smile as she explained how good she really was, “mhm, i should come and watch you sometime, superstar?” you flirt, giving her a charming smile that had butterflies swarming in her stomach.

you’d both gone far from friendly conversation, the flirting taking over after about 2 hours of you familiarising yourself with each other.

“yeah, maybe you should, and you? miss number solver?” she teases back, referring to you doing an accounting degree.

“i play hockey” you move a little so you could face her better and she does the same, although, her face has a shit eating grin on it.

“what’s so funny?” you narrow your eyes at her, “you’re so canadian” she laughs, you shake your head as she throws her head back in laughter, clearly enjoying how you’re not even defending yourself.

she encourages you to talk about your sport and to say she fell in love with you there was an understatement. you spoke with so much passion she really loved to see and hear it.

you also admit you fell in love with her when she talked about her sport, but even more with how intently she was listening to you, soaking in every word you said and clarifying things she didn’t understand.

you both felt something bubbling under the surface as you talked, so much so, when the party started to filter out, she asked if you wanted to get some ice cream and who were you to decline?

the teasing and the flirting throughout the whole night was so unbearable, you asked her out on a date without a second thought, smiling brightly when she accepted without any hesitation.

you both began to date after a few months, becoming one of the ‘it couples’ around campus when everyone could truly tell how much you were in love with each other.

you went to each other’s games with bright, adoring smiles, wearing each other’s jerseys with pride.

you had study dates together, most of the time getting distracted but neither part was complaining.

you were there for each other throughout all the ups and downs, talking and listening to one another for hours and somehow feeling not enough when you were with each other every second of the day.

you’d both established a career before you even graduated college, star athletes in the making in your respected sports.

you’d do anything for each other, so much so you moved with her to england when she signed her contract to chelsea.

—

while jessie played for chelsea, you still continued to play hockey in england also. it was hard being away from home but jessie made it all better.

your continual support for each other offering a sense of security that nothing else could. it also helped that you both represented canada nationally, often getting the opportunity to go home together.

—

the chelsea girls knew you too well, you came to every single game without fail with a bright grin on your face in the ‘fleming’ jersey that was almost worn as much as your own.

“your wife’s here” niamh teases as she warmed up with jessie before a match, the two of you weren’t married, or engaged even, not yet at least but this didn’t stop niamh from wishing you were, knowing how much her best friend adored you.

“where?” jessie grins, stopping all movement and frantically looking for you, niamh directs her head to where you were sitting in the friends and family section and her heart swelled with pride.

you wave at her brightly and she returns it instantly, her face growing warm at the smile you sent her, snapped out of her trance at niamh’s laugh. “such a sap” she smiles, jessie just gives her shoulder a little shove, continuing to warm up.

when the match was over after an easy win, jessie bounded over to you without a second to waste. “hi, baby” you smile as she walked into your arms, the barrier making it a little difficult but you both didn’t care.

“hi, gorgeous” jessie says breathlessly, pulling you into a sweet kiss with her hand on your cheek. you smile against her, your own hand on the side of her neck, your thumb brushing against her skin gently.

“my superstar” you say as you pull away, brushing away some stray hairs from her face before pulling her into a tight hug.

“gotta impress my wag, baby” she says cheekily, kissing your cheek repeatedly to make you giggle, working successfully like it did every time.

“i’m definitely impressed, baby canada” you smile, pressing another quick kiss to her lips as you pulled away slightly.

her hands make her way to your waist, rubbing up and down gently as you chatted, only lasting for a couple of seconds before you ushered her to interact with the fans.

“i’ll see you at home, beautiful” she winks, pecking your lips before running away, shouting a quick “i love you” over her shoulder that you quickly returned before leaving to drive home.

—

you had an upcoming game, an important one at that. you’d been nervous about it all week, jessie frequently having to calm you down so you could breathe. you were the captain, both for this team and the canada team so a lot of pressure fell on your shoulders.

the only reassurance you had was knowing jessie would be there, even inviting some of her teammates to come and watch you since they had the day off.

jessie wasn’t one to miss an opportunity where she got to ogle her talented girlfriend and show you off at the same time so she was extremely excited.

the morning of, let’s just say it was extremely difficult to get you out of the house.

“what if i fuck up?” you whine, turning from the door and walking back to jessie who was watching you from the doorway. “you won’t” she assures, pinching your cheek softly before turning you around and giving you a soft push to the door.

you turn back around, “what if something goes wrong?” you say nervously, “baby, you’ll be fine, we can deal with it” jessie chuckles, you throw your head back in annoyance.

the people who only knew you from hockey would be shocked to know you did this before every game. they’d be shocked to know how soft you were when it came to your girlfriend.

“i don’t want to go” you groan, jessie draws you in by your waist, her arms wrapped around them securely, “baby, you’ll be amazing, like always” jessie says earnestly, her brown eyes looking directly into yours so you knew she wasn’t lying.

“but you don’t know that” you pout, jessie quickly smiling before pulling you into a sweet kiss.

“i’m your girlfriend, i know everything” she says cheekily, pecking your lips a couple of times and managing to pull a small smile out of you.

“you go do your best, that’s all i want from you” she smiles, her hands now cradling your face as your arms wrap around her. “okay” you breathe out, determined.

smiling before pulling her into a breathless kiss that made both of you feel dizzy, sharing a quick i love you before she had to physically push you out of the house, knowing you’d convince her to stay.

—

jessie made her way to the arena in your jersey, your number written neatly tiny on her cheek. she was accompanied by niamh, zećira, aggie and hannah.

to say jessie got teased the entire time was an understatement but she didn’t care, she had no shame with the amount of love she had for you.

when you skated out on the ice with the ‘C’ over your heart, you had no ounce of nervousness at all. a complete contrast from the morning.

the truth is, on the ice, you were ruthless, completely contradicting how you were off the ice.

you carried yourself with complete confidence, expecting nothing but the best. you were a little rough but one of the best players and everyone knew it. you didn’t take any bullshit.

you were strategic, smart and calculated. you knew what you were doing and you were the captain both in this league and nationally for a reason. a team leader without fail. a role model, a borderline legend.

jessie and her friends cheered loudly for you when your name was announced on the loudspeaker. jessie watched as you waved around the arena before locking back in, skating around the ice in preparation for the game.

jessie was on the edge of her seat the entire time watching you, scoring 2 points in a short amount of time. you were playing exceptionally well, jessie’s heart swelled with pride but she was extremely nervous how this one player kept trying to rile you up.

she knew you didn’t take any disrespect and knew this girl was about to get her ass handed to her.

the girl was being overly physical with you and you would counter it every time. she was the other captain and knew she’d get thrown into the box if she tried anything too much. her behaviour was surprising.

but the girl continued, having the nerve to be near you every time with something to say every two seconds.

you’d ignore it, having dealt with people more annoying than this but it flipped when she started talking about jessie. your jessie.

she started with the insults about you until she said, “is your girlfriend some sort of puck bunny?” you fucking lost it.

you dropped your stick and both of you break out into a heated fight. fists flying before you grabbed her by her shirt, slamming her into the glass and spitting out words that we’re definitely not family friendly. jessie’s eyes were so wide in shock, never really seeing you in a fight like this before.

“talk about my girlfriend like that again and i’ll shove the puck down your fucking throat” you exclaim, getting pulled back by the referee and getting told to go to the penalty box.

you send a glare to the girl and she falters almost instantly before you skated to the box. you sat down with a huff, arms crossed over your chest as you watched your team dominate the other.

jessie shook her head while she looked at you, niamh and zećira cheering you on throughout the fight and even more now that you were in the box.

when your ten minutes was up, you played the rest of the game with passion, finishing with an easy and well deserved win. jessie ran down to where the change rooms were, her teammates waiting nearby.

jessie watched as you skated off the ice, catching your breath as you quickened your pace to jessie. her face was etched with worry as you approached, watching as you took off your helmet hastily and took out your mouth guard.

“hey, baby” you say brightly, bounding over and wrapping jessie up in a hug, your face instantly tucked into the crook of her neck, your cold nose brushing against her warm skin.

“for someone that just beat the shit out of someone, you’re very happy” she says amusingly, her arms wrapping around you without hesitation.

“she deserved it, trust me on that” and jessie did. you pull away from her at arms length, a cheesy smile plastered on your face as you looked at her.

“are you okay?” she asked, her voice clearly laced with worry, you nodded, kissing jessie’s cheek tenderly as you drew her a little closer.

“i’m fine, love, especially since my biggest fan is here” you grin, “you should see the other guy” you laugh as jessie slaps your shoulder lightly, “cheeky” she chuckles, pulling you into another tight hug in absolute relief you were okay.

you could tell she was on edge because of the circumstances, the hug telling you everything you needed to know. you hugged her tightly, letting her find solace in you and honestly calming you both down.

you wave over at her teammates when she pulls away and chat with them excitedly. you held onto jessie’s hand the entire time you all chatted, thanking them for coming and watching.

“what does that say on your stick?” niamh questions, you smile, moving your hand to show that you’d written jessie’s name with a little heart next to it on your tape, a tradition for you ever since you’d started dating.

“good luck charm” you grin, both of you getting teased for your bright pink cheeks. you say goodbye to them before they leave, turning back to jessie with a sweet smile. this is the side of you she knew the best. an absolute softie.

before you get changed, you draw jessie into another kiss, unable to stop yourself from smiling against her when she whined against your mouth.

you give her an amused expression, seeming as though she was a little riled up about the whole situation. “shut up” she groans, pushing you away by your chest slightly but you came right back, pressing a sweet peck to her lips,

“i didn’t say anything” you mumble against her, squeezing her hips gently before you ran to the change room, wanting to get back home as quick as possible.

let’s just say violence is never the answer but is excusable only for the way your girlfriend reacted to you when you both stepped through the door of your shared apartment.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

liked by niamhcharles17 and 44,232 others

_jessflem: you wouldn’t know she beat someone up 10 minutes before this but here we are

view all comments

yourname: so worth it

↳ _jessflem: really was actually

niamhcharles17: your girlfriend’s got a crazy fist on her but is SUCH a softie

↳ yourname: watch it niamhy

↳ _jessflem: biggest softie ever

↳ yourname: you’re supposed to defend me

↳ _jessflem: i love you?

↳ yourname: yeah. whatever. i love you too.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming

[simpforsoap]

Monsterous Lovers- Part 3

Here is par three! Little bit of a warning as there's some suggestive comments and drinking.

Tag List: @nightriver99 @ssc7514 @chickenn-soupp @royaltysuite @jadeloverxd @callsign-pyro @batw3nch @evolutionarry @dan-delionn @rafaelacallinybbay @whitetiger846 @werschitz @mangotaitai @adrastalofnjordergarrten @gabriellathegreat @icryat2 @thyfluffyduckling @illyanam1011 @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @zoruxsblog

Part 1 and Part 2

Vampric Protection Association. 

The stamp was large on the paper Price held in his hand. He had explained to Laswell that he needed a background check on someone he met, though he didn’t go into much details. Laswell was insistent to know why he needed the background check, but Price told her it was a house he was looking at and was on a need to know basis. 

Ghost stood over his shoulder, looking at the paper in Price’s hand. Laswell having dropped it off 15 minutes ago, but Price couldn’t get past that first page. The stamp took up the top right of the paper and after skimming it Price realized there wasn’t much else on it. No convictions, no criminal records, and nothing mentioning anything on you bring a hybrid. Though they knew the last piece of information already, between your scent and they way you carried yourself, they knew you were human. But it begged the question, just why was there the stamp on your background check? 

Price and Ghost stared at the paper in silence, a silent debate on whether or not to openly ask you about it while they moved in or should they wait until you were more comfortable before bringing it up. 

“Wouldn’t it be better to ask directly out of her?” Ghost’s tone was filled with indifference, an untrusting look in his eyes. 

Price knew it was too easy for Ghost to view his life as himself against the world, everyone a natural enemy to him. Price shook his head, leaning back in his chair with a cigar in his mouth, “I understand what you’re thinking, but it might be best to let her open about it to us before we bring it up. We don’t want to scare her off…without knowing what exactly happened it’s safe to assume there was an attack of some sort or something among those lines that caused it.”

Ghost only offered a small grunt in a reply. There was a silent agreement that they liked this little human, it seemed almost a bit too easy for them to trust her, but Ghost felt opposite. Though not given a reason not to trust you, there was no explicit reason to trust you either. 

But that sigil was a sign that there was a secret you had.

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

It was difficult during the first week with them in your home, though you made it a point to remind them it was their own home as well. Every little crack or footstep in the house gave you a small sense of panic at first, too used to living on your own that mixing in four others into the home gave a small bit of panic. Soap and Gaz were quick to warm up to you and you them. They made it easy to get along with, which was exactly where you sat now. 

Soap had all but begged you that morning to join him and Gaz outside to watch them 'in action' as Soap called it. You smiled at your spot on the porch swing, blanket curled around your legs and cup of coffee in your hands. Soap and Gaz were in the field out front, the two of them playfully fighting with one another. 

Soap was a tad bigger than he usually is, you had watched him partially shift. His stature was larger than his usual frame, fangs dripping with saliva, the ears on the side of his head coming to a sharp point. You were a little surprised when you watched the slight transformation, the sound of bones cracking causing the hairs on your arms to rise. You watched Gaz’s quick movements, using his large and powerful wings to propel him up and over Soap every time Soap tried to tackle him down. Despite the growling, Soap had a large smirk on his face.

As you sat there watching, a small smile on your face hearing Gaz’s taunts and Soap's growling, the main door opened behind you. Looking up you gave a smile to Price seeing him walk out, “come to join?”

Price chuckled sofly, walking over to where you sat on the porch swing, taking a seat next to you, “surprised to see you up this early. They didn’t wake you right?”

You shook your head a bit, taking a small sip of your coffee as you adjusted in your seat, “no they didn’t. Though they did find me in the kitchen this morning, Soap all but begged me to watch them. Have to say, not what I was expecting.”

Price leaned back, his left wing hidden under his skin, an small habit he formed when around you. “Not surprising. He’s been asking me all week if it was something you’d be open to.”

You shook your head slightly, “this is your home as much as it is mine. You have a right to be comfortable as well.”

Price glanced at you, taking in the small details of you. Your hair slightly messy and pulled back from your face, the blanket tucked around your legs, the tired look in your eyes despite the content air you seemed to give off as you watch Soap and Gaz ‘train.’ He was quiet for a moment too long as you looked up and over at him, “you okay?”

Price gave a small smile, nodding, “yes, though I do want to say thank you.”

You shook your head, playfully rolling your eyes, “and like I told you the several times before, you don’t have to thank me. If anything, I should be thanking you. You’ve been a huge help to me.”

Price watched you for a moment more before shaking his head slightly and lighting up a cigar, “you’re a different human than we’ve ever met before.”

“Just because you can’t help the skin you’re born in, doesn’t mean you’re all that much different than me.” Your tone was soft, a smile on your face matching the words you spoke as you looked up at Price.

For the first time in a long time, Price had to swallow back a rumble in his chest, the beast under his skin lighting up at your words, “thank you, love. You have no idea what that means.”

You smiled, going back to watching Soap and Gaz in the field, drinking your coffee. Price felt his shoulders relax watching you out the corner of his eye.

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

“You wanna what?” You stood there, blinking in shock up at Soap who smiled down at you.

Soap chuckled, “I want to take you out for dinner and drinks. Tonight…please lass?”

You blinked a few more times, glancing back at your messy room behind you then back at Soap, “when do you want to go?”

Soap tapped his chin, his tail swinging behind him with excitement, “how about in an hour? Gives you time to get dressed and whatever you girls do.”

“Okay..I’ll uh-I’ll get ready then.” You watched the smile spread across Soap’s face before he nodded and bounced off down the hallway. 

You stood there for a few more minutes before getting your ass in gear. Taking a quick shower, getting dressed and popping just a touch of make up on your face. You nervously slid a hoodie on, biting the inside of your cheek as you stood in the middle of the room before heading out and down the hall. 

Soap stood at the front door, watching as you walked down the stairs with a large smile on his face. Having already gotten approval from Price, without your knowledge of course, to take you into town for a few hours. It took a bit of convincing on Soap’s part, having to get past Price’s natural protective instincts over you, which only seemed to amp up since your interaction that morning. Soap promised to have you home by 10:30 and he didn’t dare plan to make a mess of the situation. 

Soap’s tail wagged behind him, a smile on his face as he held his clawed hand out to you, “ready to go? I got the car warming up for you.”

You took his hand, checking your pockets one more time for your wallet and phone before nodding, “yeah, I think so.”

He lead you out of the house, holding the door for you to go through first, giving an enthusiastic thumbs up to Gaz and Ghost who sat in the living room, watching the both of you exit the house. Ever the gentleman, Soap opened the car door for you, helping you in before running around to the driver’s side. You had sure to buckle your seatbelt, nerves dancing in your stomach as Soap peeled out of the driveway and down the road. 

You had a death grip on the door handle and Soap’s erratic driving, wide eyed as he looked over at you with a laugh, slowing down to a normal pace, “relax. Gotta keep captain on his toes somehow.”

You hesitantly let go of the doorhandle after a few moments, “right. Giving me a heart attack in the meantime.”

Soap laughed, shaking his head, “nah, I’d never do anything to hurt ya lass. Care too much for ya.”

You looked over at him, eyebrows furrowed, “care for me huh? Think you’re getting a bit soft there, soap.”

He smiled, relaxing in his seat, his grip loose on the steering wheel, “Johnny. You don’t have to call me soap. And yeah, I do care for ya. You’re apart of this pack now,”

“Johnny, huh? And here I thought you looked like a Michael.” You smiled laughing when he playfully growled.

“Ain’t no michael. Sheesh lass, you lost your marbles.” Johnny shook his head, a smile on his face despite his falsely grumpy tone.

You only laughed at that, shaking your head yourself. The ride to the bar was filled with soft music and playful banter between the both of you. Johnny took you to town, the bar he brought you to was one of the more hole in the wall ones, and you smiled at the familiar logo on it.

Johnny helped you out of the car, your arm looped in his as the both of you made your way inside. Johnny moving you both to the back corner boothe, the one shaped like a U, smiling cheekily at you when you gave him a playful glare, “had to get ye close to me now.”

You slid in the boothe, sitting in the back against the wall, Johnny nodding once you were settled, “now, I’ll get us drinks, what would you like?”

You set your phone face down on the table top, thinking about it for a moment before smiling at him, “how about one of their coconut margaritas?”

“You got it!” Johnny smiled excitedly making his way over to the bar letting you sit there for a moment.

Johnny wasn’t gone long, walking back over to the boothe, sliding in beside you setting your drink in front of you, beer in his hand, you gave him  a small thanks, taking a sip from it.

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

The night was going great, filed with jokes and laughs. Johnny telling you all about his stories during missions, of course leaving out all the gruesome details and the pieces that were classified. In turn you told him a bit of your home life, how your parents left when you were three, leaving you to be raised by your grandparents. 

“So, when they died, I got to take over their property. The house we stay in now is actually a new build. I sold off their house, too many memories it was a bit painful to stay in it without them..a really lovely bunny couple bought it and had it moved to the east coast, and I took the money from the house, rented a small apartment here in town while they built it. Once done, I moved in with my ex.” You had a small sad smile on your face, your cheeks slightly flushed from the several drinks you had, Johnny’s arm sliding over your shoulders as he pulled you into his side.

“Must’ve been tough. You’re a strong human that’s for damn sure.” Johnny’s clawed hand rubbed your shoulder a bit, holding you close to his side, trying to ease up the scent of sadness on you.

You smiled shaking your head slightly, “didn’t feel very strong when he turned.”

Johnny’s head tilted slightly, looking at you, “turned?”

You looked up at him, blinking at the idea of spilling it so quickly before shaking your head, “yeah..my ex, Alex, he was a human like me. Worked at one of the construction sites here in town. We had just gotten engaged, went into the city to one of the fancy restaurants there to celebrate…dinner was great and all that but…at the end of the night there was some fight in the parking lot..he tried to break it up and…well turned out those people where vampires. One bit Alex and he went….crazy…attacked me in that parking lot…if it wasn’t for one of the couples inside coming out when they did I would’ve been dead…EMT’s took me to the hospital, wound up getting patched up there…bastard tried to rip my ribs out…but, I survived got enlisted under the vampire protection association…he’s spending life in jail now…”

“Oh, lass…” Johnny frowned, setting his beer down on the table as he turned to face you, hugging you close to his chest, despite the awkward angle, you leaned your head onto his shoulder, “you--”

You sighed, realzing at that moment you had tears on your face, “worst part of it was I had to show in court…bastard told me it was my fault for tempting him…to think I was gonna marry that asshole.”

Johnny was quiet for a moment before his hand cupped your jaw, having you look up at him, “none of that now, lass. You’re damn strong and it was never your fault.”

You looked up at him, leaning into his touch as your eyes fluttered, feeling his clawed thumbs gently brush the tears off your cheeks, “it’s been over a year now since then but…some times my sides still hurt…the memory still fresh..”

Johnny’s touch was soft, his ears slightly tilted back giving off his worried mood, “the thing about scars is they do fade…the memories get easier to deal with and eventually you don’t remember them in vivid detail..but now you have us. A badass harpy…a silent wraith…a huge dragon…and the biggest baddest wolf in the world by your side.” 

You smiled, a small chuckle leaving you as you looked up at Johnny, “thank you, Johnny…you have no idea what that means.”

Johnny smiled wide, “it’s no problem at all, lass. Now cheer up, I say we have another round!”

You couldn’t stop the laugh from leaving you seeing his enthusiasm, all to easy to relax with him around, “sure, whatever you say wolfie.”

Johnny laughed at your comment, shaking his head.

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

The both of you stayed out far later than either of you planned to, the bar having to kick the both of you out. Both of you were drunk, sharing too many drinks between the both of you. Though the owner of the bar was nice enough to call you a taxi to get the both of you home. You laid on Johnny’s shoulder, smiles on both of your faces as you rode back to the house, Johnny tried talking with the cab driver, but after ten minutes of listening to Johnny’s drunken ramble, he shut the little window between the both of you. You could only laugh at Johnny’s pout, placing a sloppy kiss on his mouth to cheer him up, laughing when Johnny licked your cheek.

 As the both of you tumbled out of the taxi, you froze seeing Ghost standing on the porch with his arms crossed. Johnny looked up as you stopped pausing with a sheepish smile on his face, “Lt, what are you still doing up?”

Ghost sighed, walking down the steps and over to us, “you told him 10:30 Johnny. It’s three in the morning.”

You looked at Ghost with a small frown and before you could say anything, Johnny beat you to it, “I know I know, but she was having too much fun and we lost track of time. You sound like her dad, loosen up a bit”

Ghost sighed, shaking his head, you had to bite you lip to stop yourself from laughing at Johnny’s comment. You yelped when Ghost picked you up and over his shoulder and as Johnny laughed, Ghost did the same to him, “shut yer lot the both of ya.”

Ghost ignored Johnny’s whining and weak attempts at rebuttal as he carried the both of you in the house over his shoulders. Ghost dropped Johnny off at his room first, dropping him on his bed and throwing the blanket over him, “bed, Johnny.”

Johnny grumbled but was fairly quick to settle in bed, giving you a cheeky smile as he watched Ghost carry you out of Johnnys room and down the hall to your own. You were a little surprised when Ghost laid you in bed, a lot more gentle with you than he was with Johnny. Ghost took your shoes off and threw a blanket over you, “sleep. You’re gonna have a nasty hangover in the morning.”

You smiled drunkenly, sitting up in bed for a moment, cupping his masked cheek as you placed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “thanks, Ghost.”

You stared down at you, watching as you rolled over and covered back up with your blanket. He stood there silently, listening to the way your breathing evened out before leaving your room, making sure to close the door softly behind him.

Ghost paused in the hallway, seeing Price standing there with a tired smile on his face, “thank you, Simon.”

Ghost said nothing walking to his room, only stopping when Price stretched his wing out to block his path, “it’s nothing, captain.”

Price smiled at him, looking at him quietly for a moment before putting a hand on his shoulder, “it’s okay to trust her simon…”

Ghost only sighed, looking at price, “I’m working on it.”

Price smiled taking a step towards him, pushing Ghost’s mask up and over his nose, rubbing his clawed thumb over Ghost’s lower lip, “nothing will change with us Simon.”

Ghost said nothing, but allowed his lips to partially part at Price’s touch, a silent invitation for more, “sir…”

There was always a silent exchange between the both of them, more words spoken in the soft touches than the words themselves, Price nodded motioning to his room, “come then, Simon. Let me help you.”

Ghost didn’t hesitate but more than a split second, allowing Price to lead him into his room, taking his mask off after the door shut behind Price.

#captain john price x reader #john price x y/n #john price x reader #gaz x reader #ghost x you #john price x you #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick #simon riley #tf 141 x reader #poly 141 x reader #monster au #call of duty #cod mw22 #modern warefare ii #cod

[ddarker-dreams]

a little fluff blurb for bladie from my google docs !! reader here is fem.

Blade almost took it personally when you failed to notice him. 

His presence in your room certainly stands out. Everything about him contradicts the soft pastel colors, abundant flora, and cute finishing touches. Nothing in the universe aside from your kitchenette registers. You hum along with the song playing in your ears, waiting for your tea’s timer to go off. 

He walked in when the countdown read five minutes. Presently, it’s at two. 

You’re wearing dangerously short pajama shorts and an old t-shirt, the band’s logo faded out from years in the wash. He’d considered making himself known, but watching you frolic about proved too tempting. You have your back turned toward him, entirely oblivious, stuck in a little world of your own making. 

Creepy as it may be, Blade considers it soothing to stare at you. Therapeutic, even. A way to unwind from the blood-filled jobs that beckon his mara out to play.

A wicked idea forms in his head. Going without you for so much as a day is enough to seriously dampen his mood. Normally, it’s his enemies that reap the consequences. He’ll miss their vitals just enough that they’re left to go into shock and bleed out, rather than a swift, merciful death. What can he say? It’s their fault for existing and cutting into his time with you. That’s on them.

He stalks over, movements akin to a mountain lion that’s located its unsuspecting prey. 

You’re lifting the teabag out a few moments early. He’s close enough to double as your shadow, the corners of his lips twitching upward from anticipation. 

The second your timer goes off, he strikes, large hands settling on either side of your hips. This unexpected contact earns immediate retaliation. You actually squeak, much to his surprise (and amusement). Your response doesn’t end there. From instinct, you twist your torso around, ready to ward off the threat. 

Maybe it’s because you have an object in your hand, or maybe it’s because your subconscious knows you’re in no real danger, but you don’t materialize your weapon. 

Instead, you try thwacking him with your dripping teabag. 

He easily catches your wrist, thwarting your assault. It takes you all of a millisecond to understand the situation. You use your free hand to slowly remove your in-ears. He can’t help it — your pinched-together eyebrows and scrunched-up nose makes him chuckle. This worsens his crimes from your perspective, which you make evident by a non-threatening glare. 

“Nice weapon,” he drawls. 

“Hey, that’s— that’s unfair,” you complain. “I wasn’t expecting an ambush.” 

Blade raises an eyebrow. “Is it an ambush if you expect it?” 

“Yes? No. Maybe. Quit looking at me like that, I didn’t sleep well last night.” 

“Mhm.” 

He plucks the teabag from your grasp and throws it away. Meanwhile, you remain frozen in time, only moving enough to cross your arms over your chest. The wrath you try directing his way is largely ineffective. Your miffed countenance is akin to a bunny scowling. 

“I was looking forward to your return, but I’ve since changed my mind.” 

“Mm.” 

He hoists you up onto the kitchenette’s countertop. The way the soft flesh of your thighs expands against the marble tempts him, but he knows he won’t be getting anything until your faux frustration is appeased. It won’t take much — or long. He just gazes into your pretty eyes, his bandaged hand cupping your face, the pad of his thumb massaging your cheekbone. You melt for him almost immediately. 

“Everything alright?” You ask, your arms finding their place around his neck. 

To Blade, everything’s more than ‘alright,’ because you’re here. Treating him with care he doesn’t deserve, and love he deserves even less. He used to worry he’d taint you, like clear waters turning opaque from filth. However, it’s as Kafka once said, likely pitying his lovelorn self. 

“Shouldn’t you let her decide that for herself?” 

For reasons genuinely beyond his comprehension, you decided he was worth the trouble. 

His gloved hand settles on your thigh. The irony of how he caresses you with the same hand responsible for hundreds, if not thousands of deaths isn't lost on him. Since regaining a semblance of consciousness, that's all he thought he was good for. Bloodshed and slaughter.

He observes how you shudder through lidded eyes.

You don't look at him as if he's a monster. You should, he often thinks, because he is. There's no sugarcoating the truth. He's become everything he once swore to eradicate. Mad, vengeful, immortal. A product of the Abundance's perversion of the lines separating life and death.

And yet, all those centuries, all that suffering led him to you.

You aren't the light at the end of the tunnel — you're light in its entirety.

Blade is greedy when he slots his lips against yours. He's greedy when he pulls you closer, his bandaged hand tilting your head up, allowing him to devour you with ease. Your scent, your taste, your little laugh at how unabashedly eager he is, everything blurs together and threatens to leave him breathless.

How can he pull away when your legs wrap around his waist? When you thread your hands through his hair, reciprocating his ardor like he's worth even an ounce of your affection? He isn't, he's nothing compared to you, a ghost of a man who can't cross over into the afterlife.

Sometimes, he no longer wants to. Not if you're on this side of eternity.

"Well?" You pull back a few inches from him to ask. As pretty as your smile is, he likes your lips best when they're against his. "You gonna answer my question?"

He furrows his eyebrows together and tries kissing you again. Talking about emotions in any context isn't his forte, you both know that. He's always preferred to express himself through actions than words. However, when you deny him the pleasure of your lips a second time, impatience coils inside his chest.

He huffs.

"The best," he deadpans. You roll your eyes yet laugh anyway.

"You almost pout more than I do," you tease. For this infraction, he gives your thigh a pinch, enjoying the feeling of your soft flesh a little too much. "I just worry, y'know? You become such a sourpuss when we're apart for any length of time."

You aren't wrong, but he'll keep that to himself.

“Okay, okay, stop glaring. C’mere.”

You don’t need to tell him twice. He takes you up on your offer the second you’ve finished making it.

Blade might not know how to tell you how much you mean to him, but that doesn’t mean he can show you.

#blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade brainrot #my stuff

[borathae]

“Yoongi joins you in your bath and you talk about your days.” 

Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x f.Reader 

Genre: established relationship!AU, Fluff 

Warnings: casual & intimate nudity, Yoongi being the cutest bean in love 

Wordcount: 1.3k

a/n: I lose a lil bit of my sanity each time I write fluff. I can handle anything, but fluff always ruins me 😔 i love them so much 😔

You spent the day working in the gardens. It was a very rewarding day and left you feeling utterly content.

Content, but also very exhausted and very dirty. So you hopped into the shower for a quick rinse off and while you did, let the bathtub fill with the hottest water. You used  some of the lavender oil you made with your flowers and then lit some candles to set the mood. Ten minutes later, you were boiling in your little lavender soup, getting rid of all the tension in your muscles.

It is another ten minutes later when a faint knock on your door rips you out of your relaxation.

“Yes?”

“It’s me”, Yoongi says.

“It’s open.”

The door opens and in steps Yoongi. 

“Oh? Sorry”, he gasps, turning around, “why didn’t you say something?”

“Why are you turning away? You’ve seen me naked a million times before.”

“I don’t know, just don’t wanna be rude.”

You laugh, “you’re so weird”, you chuckle, “what’s up? Do you need help with something?” 

“No it was…no it’s fine, it was dumb”, he dismisses you. 

“No, it’s okay. Tell me.”

“It’s nothing, I’m dumb, just wanted to ask for, you know…”, he lowers his voice to a whisper, making it unable to understand him. 

“I didn’t get the last part.”

“I just wanted to…”

“Yoongi, you are talking too quietly. I can’t understand you.”

Yoongi whips around, “I just wanted to ask for cuddles!” he blurts out and pouts, “it’s dumb, okay?” he adds in a shy mumble and his eyes flitting to his feet.

“Aww my love, it’s not dumb. You’re so cute”, you coo, resting your chin on the edge of the bathtub, “do you wanna hop in here? The water’s so nice.”

He rubs his tummy, inspecting you with his head tilted to the side. 

“Mhm?”

“I guess”, he mumbles, “if you’re asking.”

“Yeah? That’s so awesome. Hop on in here then.”

“Look away.”

“I’m even closing my eyes. See?” you say, closing your eyes with a faint smile on your lips.

You listen to him get undressed. Silence follows where he walks to you. You are aware that his nature helps him stay quiet. A soft knock against the tub makes you open your eyes. 

Yoongi is looking down at you with his hands gripping the edge of the bathtub and one leg pulled up. 

“Don’t look”, he whines.

“I’m not, I’m looking at your eyes.”

He mumbles something, which is most definitely a shy complaint. Then he finally steps inside. 

“Oh geez", he gasps, lowering himself slowly, "what the fuck’s wrong with you? Why would you wanna boil yourself like that?”

“What do you mean? It’s not even that hot”, you say in a laugh. 

He lowers his butt into the water and tenses up.

“Yes it is”, he complains, “you’re gonna get cooked ballsack for dinner, like fuck.”

He cracks you up to the point where you snort ungracefully. In the time you spend laughing your ass off, Yoongi lowers his own ass into the water, submerging himself in the lavender warmth. 

“Don’t laugh”, he nudges you with his foot, “if I knew Imma get boiled, I’d have declined.”

“Oh you dramatic baby”, you snicker, closing the distance between you and him, “and yet here you are. You just like to complain”, you say, cupping his cheeks even if your hands are wet. 

Yoongi doesn’t mind, leaning into your touch.

“I guess. I’m getting used to it”, he smiles boyishly, “and I thought that I take hot baths.”

“You gotta admit though, once you’re used to it, it feels amazing.”

“Yeah, it’s nice. Relaxing. That’s nice.”

“Yeah right? And your ballsack isn’t boiled either, is it?” you tease.

Yoongi snorts and chuckles. 

“No, it’s good. It just expanded twice its size.”

“Oh you”, you laugh. Yoongi does too. “Don’t talk like this, it’s nasty.”

“Why? It’s natural”, he laughs. 

“I guess, but it’s so weird", you tease.

“You regularly tell me about your shits. I don’t ask for these kinda updates either, but you tell me”, he throws back, making you laugh.

“I guess, yeah”, you snicker and then lean in to peck his cheek, “you’re wonderful.”

Yoongi leans in for another kiss. One you give him gladly. He returns the favour afterwards. Two kisses on each cheek. He ends all of them with a soft kissing sound. It borders the sound of “mwuah”, just shorter and tinier. It feels so good to receive.

“Did you scrub yourself already?” he asks afterwards, massaging your waist gently.

“Yeah in the shower. I took a shower to wash off the day. I wanted the bath to be solely for relaxation.”

“Mhm, I see. That’s good.”

“Why? Did you wanna scrub me?”

“No, it’s fine. Just thought you needed help.”

“You can still touch me, you know? I like it when you do.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do. Your touch is gentle and loving. I stopped being touch starved because of you.” 

Yoongi lowers his eyes shyly.

“Me too”, he confesses, “yeah. Your touch is nice too. I like it. It feels good. Yeah.”

“Yeah? Should we touch each other, my love?” you suggest.

He nods his head and opens his arms, scooting closer. You understand. You close the distance and allow your bodies to connect in an intimate hug. No barriers of clothing between your skins, hot water to warm you up and the relaxing scent of lavender in your noses. The hug feels especially wonderful like this.

Yoongi hides his nose in your neck while you nuzzle your cheek against his shoulder. His arms cradle you just as much as yours cradle him. Your middles are touching, your chests are melted together and your legs are never breaking contact. It’s so utterly vulnerable and yet healing. To be able to hold him like this is medicine to your heart. You don’t even need to be sad for him to heal you. His hug is so powerful that it will heal even the parts which were never broken. 

“This is so nice”, you whisper, having your eyes closed. 

“Yeah”, he sighs, enjoying your hug with closed eyes.

“Did you have a good day, my love?” 

“It was okay”, he says.

“Yeah? Did you manage to finish the song?” 

“Not yet. I got stuck on the bridge. I don’t know what to do. So I stopped and did something else.”

“Mhm I see. I bet you’ll get it soon.”

“I guess. Can you help me with it tomorrow? Can you listen to it?”

“Of course my love, I’d love to do that”, you say, rubbing circles into his back, “can you help me with the garden? I need to carry the palm trees to the terrace, but they’re too heavy.”

“Of course, I’ll help”, he says, drawing senseless patterns on your back. 

“Thank you, my prince.”

“It’s fine yeah”, he says and nods his head. Then he nuzzles closer, kissing your neck gently, “you smell so good.”

“It’s the lavender oil.”

“No, not the oil. You smell nice. Happy.”

“I am happy”, you say, “and you? How are you feeling?”

“I’m happy too”, he says. 

You shimmy back so you can look at him, but he whines and pulls you back. 

“Don’t do that, it makes me sad.”

You snicker, “forgive me for wanting to kiss you.”

“You can do that later. I wanna hug.”

“Okay, fine. I can very gladly live with this deal.” 

“Good. I wouldn’t have let you leave either way.” 

You laugh, “oh wow okay, I see how it is.”

He snickers and nods his head, kissing your neck afterwards. 

“My love?” he whispers.

“Yes, my love?”

“Can I keep going?”

“Mhm?”

“Can I keep kissing your neck?”

“Of course you can. You don’t have to ask.”

“Okay. Mhm, you’re so perfect”, he whispers and begins kissing you, purring quietly as he does. 

You watch a movie once you finish the bath, relaxing on the couch with cups of tea and your bodies snuggled close. Yoongi falls asleep with his head on your chest, but denies it once you wake him up. Then later in bed you kiss his face until he falls asleep and you follow him seconds later.

#yoongi fluff #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi scenario #yoongi oneshot #yoongi drabble #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts scenario #bts oneshot #bts drabble #bts x reader #bts x you #bangtan fluff #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fanfiction #bangtan oneshot #bangtan scenario #bangtan drabble #bangtan x reader #bangtan x you #fanfic: sanguis duology

[suzukiblu]

updated/expanded "Kara gets to Earth on-time with baby Kal" AU excerpt:

Kara doesn’t understand the aliens’ language, which is fine. She didn’t expect to. She watches them interact and listens as they speak, familiarizing herself with the cadence and pitch and rhythm of their voices and doing her best to pick out individual sounds and patterns. She likes languages well enough. She did pretty well with Daxamite dialects in school last year, anyway. 

The aliens are kind, at least so far. They found her and Kal curled up in the remains of their smashed-up ships in their ruined field and brought them into their home despite the mess. Kara thinks they’re farmers, probably? So probably Laborer Guild, or whatever this planet has instead of Laborers. The House of El is mostly Thinkers, but Kara isn’t worried about that. She’ll figure something out, as soon as she figures out how to communicate with the aliens. Pantomime has not been all that helpful, at least not so far. 

They gave her a warm, unusually sweet drink that might have some kind of milk in it, with soft white pellets in it that are even sweeter. It’s not quite like anything she’s ever tasted before, but she likes it. Kal really liked it, though the aliens seemed to think he shouldn't have too much and gave her a little cup of just milk alone for him instead. Or she thinks it's milk, anyway. 

It's white. And very thick, and almost creamy? Though it tasted good too, when Kara stole a sip to make sure it wouldn’t upset Kal’s stomach if she gave it to him. 

"Pye," the alien that Kara is assuming is female announces in their weirdly simple-sounding language, putting a round plate with a slice of something on it on the table in front of her. Kal reaches for it from her lap with a burble. Kara peers at it too. The slice is triangular, with a crisp crust and an oozy red filling. She wonders why the plate is round, if the "pye" is meant to be sliced and served triangularly. It seems a little disrespectful to the cook–or baker? Or at least the artisan who made the plate, which was clearly painted with very dedicated care. Painted by hand, even, not a pre-programmed design reproduced by a machine. That’s very luxurious for Laborers to be offering unexpected guests who just destroyed their field, even being the wrong shape for the "pye". 

Maybe they’re overcompensating, Kara thinks. Or maybe the aliens are really just that kind. 

Maybe. 

She thinks they’re little flowers, the designs around the edges of the plate. Or at least they look like they could be flowers. They’re flower-<i>like</i>, if nothing else, and all the weird colors of them might just be a stylistic choice. 

They’re pretty. 

She wishes she could show her mother. 

Kara crushes down the grief for the thousandth time and smiles at the aliens. They smile back. 

It helps, almost. 

Almost. 

The “pye” tastes very good. 

.

.

.

It takes some effort, but Kara learns the aliens’ names after she and Kal finish their “pye” and she cleans up his sticky little face. The possibly female one is “Ma Mar-Tha”, and the possibly male one is “Pa Jona-Than”. So . . . maybe they're both female, actually? Going by their names, anyway. They both identify themselves as “Kent”, too, though she’s not sure if that’s another name and they’re either married or related, or if it’s the local word for “farmer” or “Laborer”. It’s unclear. 

They don’t look related, but she doesn’t really know how “related” this species would look to her eyes anyway. The colors of their skins are close, although their hair, though similarly textured, doesn’t really match–Ma Mar-Tha’s is an oddly neutral brown, and Pa Jona-Than’s is an even more oddly dull blond. Kara’s never seen hair in such faded colors. Her own is as bright as this planet’s strange sun, and Kal’s is as black as the space between stars. And both of their eyes are the El blue, of course. 

Pa Jona-Than’s eyes are blue too, but a washed-out shade of it. And Ma Mar-Tha’s are brown, which is so exotic and unusual that Kara has a little bit of trouble not staring too much. They’re very warm and very soft, though, and she likes how they look. 

They’re both middle-aged, she thinks, or at least strongly resemble the Kryptonian version of it. Their clothes are soft and shapeless, with very little structure or sign of formality to the garments, though Kara supposes they might be some sort of sleepwear? She and Kal did crash very early in this planet’s morning, from what she can tell. 

She tells them her name and Kal’s, though they pronounce them a bit oddly. She’s sure she’s pronouncing theirs oddly too, so it’s not as if it’s an insult. They say their names all at once, though, as if they’re singular words–"Karazorel” and “Kalel”, almost. She manages to get them both down to “Kara” and “Kal”, and they get her down to “Ma” and “Pa”, so she supposes “Mar-Tha” and “Jona-Than” are their surnames, and “Kent” does mean “Laborer”. Kal isn’t verbal enough to get to any of it, of course, but laughs sweetly and claps as he listens to them all exchanging names and sounds back and forth. 

Kara crushes down the grief again and wonders how long it’ll be until he cries for Aunt Lara and Uncle Jor. He’ll miss them soon, she’s sure. He’s a sweet, good-natured little thing, but he’s not even old enough to walk properly yet. And they’re his parents. 

She only hasn’t cried for her own because she doesn’t have the room to. Not until she’s sure they’re somewhere safe, and that Kal is going to be alright. That she can take care of him here, however she has to. 

Who knows, maybe this farm needs some more “Kents” on it. 

.

.

.

Ma gives Kara clothes: a strangely soft knee-length dress patterned with more pretty alien flowers and clunky, heavy boots with actual laces in them and a sturdy blue jacket with a surprising amount of pockets and a thick, warm, fleece-like lining, accented with flat metal studs and an odd metal trim with a tag hanging from one side of it. It takes Kara a moment, but then she realizes the trim actually seems to be some sort of fastener. 

Huh. 

The clothes don't fit quite right–Kara thinks the dress is probably meant to be a little longer, from the cut of it, and the jacket is a bit too big and the boots are a little loose too–but she does appreciate them. She's been in her own clothes since . . . 

Krypton died while she was in these clothes. 

Everyone she's ever loved, everyone she's ever known, everyone she's ever seen . . . 

Kara appreciates the new ones. 

. . . although, do clothes on this planet just not have house crests? Or are Ma and Pa just not from families that have house crests? 

She supposes they might not be. They are Laborers, so . . . maybe. But they also served her on a hand-painted plate, if with strange manners, so she's not sure what to think. 

Maybe she just doesn't understand the specific signifiers in their clothing, or maybe their house signifiers are just in their jewelry. Ma is wearing tiny gold hoops in her(?) ears and a thin gold necklace and Pa is wearing a thick leather bracelet with a glass and metal circle in the center of it, and they're both wearing gold rings on the third fingers of their left hands. Pa's is just a single plain band, but Ma has two–one just plain like his(?), but thinner, and one with a trio of little clear gemstones set in it. Diamonds, maybe? That would make sense, for a Laborer's jewelry. Diamonds are pretty, but they're both reasonably common in nature and simple enough to recreate under laboratory conditions, so they're certainly affordable enough for a farmer to wear even day-to-day. And they're sturdy, too. Gold less so, obviously, but maybe the rings are just gold-plated or an alloy.

It's something to think about besides the end of the world. 

. . . their world, anyway. 

As far as clothes go there's nothing that'll fit Kal at all, so Kara just keeps him wrapped up safe and secure in the bright red El crest blanket Jor and Lara sent him here in. Though she knows he'll need more diapers soon, obviously, and something he can actually crawl around in too. He can't stay in her lap forever. 

She wishes he could, right now. Even letting Ma hold him while she changed was . . . stressful. 

A little too stressful, maybe, but Kara tries not to think about it. Not right now, at least. 

She needs to protect him. Needs to take care of him. Needs to–

Kara exhales. Wraps Kal up in his El crest blanket and her borrowed jacket, and smiles at Ma and Pa. They smile back at her. 

Well, that's a start. 

#kara zor el #supergirl #ma and pa kent #clark kent #superfamily #superman #rinfic #long post #wip: kara gets to earth on time

[lucyandthepen]

last young renegade | jjh

summary: your valentine’s day plans with jaehyun may have gone down the drain just a little. (okay — a lot.)

pairing: jaehyun x reader verse: canon, idol!verse rating: t warnings&tags: reader & jaehyun are in an established relationship, quite frankly there is nothing too out of the ordinary in this fic which is a shocker, it’s a rewritten fic so pls excuse any errors I may not have caught! word count: 5.02k

a/n: happy 2024 friends and family !!!!!! and advanced happy birthday to the man who created valentine’s day, he who is perhaps my first love in nct, jaehyun! this is actually just a fic I’ve been hoping to re-write a bit from before, and since it’s valentine’s themed, what better time to post it!! Enjoy enjoy, and may this year bring more fun, laughs, love (and debauchery) to this blog!

Yᴏᴜ sᴀɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ sɪᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ᴏғ ɪᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ, ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀʏ.

♡ jaehyunnie ♡ I know I said birthday dinner but practice is running so late ㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie ♡ Can we meet after? I’m sorry ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ How about I call you when we’re done? Maybe 11:30?

At times like this, you often wonder if it’s all worth it.  

You know thinking that way is counterproductive, not to mention a little unfair. You knew exactly what to expect, getting into an under-wraps relationship with an idol, and so far, it’s lived up to most of your assumptions, and then some. It doesn’t help that Jaehyun, even just by name, tends to attract an unbelievable amount of attention. You know you can’t blame him; it’s not like he wants to be high on the radar every time, either. For some reason, though, you seem to be looking for something or someone to blame, which you also know is a dead end. You have no one to pin the blame onto apart from yourself by frequently generating doubts that keep your mind running around in circles.  

It’s not even the sneaking around that gets tiring; it’s the waiting — waiting on calls, waiting on free time, waiting on a good opportunity to do something that doesn’t involve him suddenly getting pulled out to attend to one of many of his celebrity responsibilities. Over the last few years that you’ve dated, NCT has only ever gotten more popular; with that popularity came the fact that the public eye was trained on them, focusing on every microscopic detail of their lives. Jaehyun hates that more than anything, which is why he’s given up on trying to avoid it by practically escaping it altogether, locking himself up in the dorm with you when he has his precious few days off. 

While it’s true that you definitely don’t miss having to play espionage when going out for a cup of coffee with him, you’ve also managed to memorize every single inch of Jaehyun’s room, which isn’t good for your mentality, you’re pretty sure. You have to keep reminding him to open the window whenever the both of you are in there, because all you do is stay in and watch English movies without subtitles to see who can understand the most without asking questions (obviously, he always wins) while eating food he runs up and down the stairs to get every other hour. And while him trying to imitate the British accents on these shows is genuinely funny, you’re starting to suspect even he’s starting to get tired of watching Harry Potter over and over again. Twenty hours sounds like a long time unless you spend every twenty-hour period you have together marathoning the exact same films. Much to both of your disappointment, your suggestion to watch it totally out of order did not make it cooler.

Still, you suppose it’s not all bad. Jaehyun also taught you how to play Fortnite on a couple of his days off back to back, and while you hadn’t been as good a player as you both had hoped, he’d still patiently waited for you every time you got lost on the map. He’d even given you his account’s password with the sentiment that this was him ‘taking things to the next level with you,’ and you get to log into his account and play whenever you want; he doesn’t even get mad when you’ve wasted all the stuff he’s farmed on your subpar gaming skills. And, well, the bigger picture was that you loved him. Based on how much effort he put into the relationship, plus the bonus of his trust in you when it came to his Fortnite account, you could at least be confident in that he returned the sentiment.  

Except, sometimes, you still wonder if it would be easier for the both of you if he flew solo and didn’t have a girlfriend that tanked all of his player’s ammo and health kits and generally made a fool out of his cute little avatar while he was out breaking his back onstage.  

You aren’t sure if Jaehyun’s been noticing the turmoil in you; you’re not that good at hiding how you feel, anyway, but if he has, he hasn’t said anything thus far. You do observe how much more he texts you when he has free time, which makes you feel doubly bad, because you know that he’s spending precious minutes he could be resting with on talking to you instead, which isn’t the best trade-off for someone who’s constantly busy — and thereby constantly tired — like him.  

♡ jaehyunnie♡ ___________ I’m going to practice again, okay? Wait for my call ㅠㅠ You I’ll wait for your call ♡ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ I love you ㅠㅠㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ You love me too — a lot, right? I’ll keep my phone now, but I’ll make sure to check that you said so. ㅋㅋㅋ You Right! ㅎ I love you a lot! ♡

When the clock hits 12:01, and your phone is silent, your mind starts working on overtime again. It’s only when the special ringtone you’ve set for him comes to life at half-past midnight that you break your train of thought and put on your socks so you can meet Jaehyun at your front door.  

You’ve made a rule — sort of like a deal — between the two of you that apologies aren’t necessary when work holds you up. You’ve cashed in on that deal a couple of times, but you’re both aware that it’s more for Jaehyun’s sake than anything else, and he keeps to his word on that much when you open the door and duck into his car. All he does is smile at you, and you smile back, and for the rest of the car ride, everything seems okay.  

He always asks you about your day — unfailingly, at any chance he can. It’s never an off-handed question, either; Jaehyun takes great pride in his memory, and the sweetest thing about him is that he’s dedicated a good deal of it to knowing almost everything about you. Right now is no different. He asks you about your team manager, what you had for lunch; he grills you on if you took your vitamins today and if you got to break in the new shoes you bought online — the ones you’d been pining over for the last three months. He even asks you about the guy from the neighboring department who keeps asking you out for after-work drinks.  

“He wanted to go to Hongdae tonight,” you tell him as he slows for a red light. “There’s some new pub of his friend’s doing a soft opening there tonight.”  

“You could have gone.” He keeps his eyes on the road. “I wouldn’t have minded.”  

“I didn’t want to.”

“Good.” He glances at you, a grin slowly spreading on his lips. “Because I lied. I might have minded a little. Or, you know, a lot.”  

“Don’t tell me after all these years, you’ve turned into the kind of boyfriend that doesn’t let his girlfriend go out without him.”

“That’s impossible for me, and you know that,” he chuckles. “You can do whatever you want, whenever you want. Just not with that guy from the other department.”

“Don’t worry.” You tinker with the little charm dangling on your phone — half of a flat, metal heart dangling from a gold chain that Jaehyun had given you two years back on your birthday. He keeps the other half, but since he can’t freely attach it to any of his belongings, he keeps it wedged between the back of his phone and its case. You like watching him change the backing because he does it so carefully, like he’s worried the other half of the heart is going to break if he rips off the case willy nilly. “I told him my boyfriend and I were going out on a date tonight, so he backed off. Although he did wonder why I keep talking about a boyfriend he’s never seen.”

“And? What did you say?”

“I said it was none of his damn business.”  

Jaehyun laughs loudly, and you go along with him, but you don’t miss how tired he looks when he sobers down, the green light illuminating all the shadows on his face as he steps on the gas again.

Nothing good is open this late at night — that is, nothing you haven’t seen before. You hadn’t even expected to go out at all, but since it was the day before Valentine’s Day as well as his birthday (or it would have been, if you hadn’t waited until midnight), Jaehyun had wanted to do something special without having to run into a huge crowd of couples on the day itself. Your only option is this from-out-of-town carnival that’s set up in tents and even has a medium-sized ferris wheel by the edge of the metal barricade. The parking lot is practically empty when Jaehyun pulls into a slot; you joke that he should break one rule and park in two slots, which he smugly replies to by saying he couldn’t park badly even if he tried.  

He tucks your hair back behind your ears as he loops the strings of a face mask around them, using another one for himself. Between that and the brim of his cap, you can barely see his eyes. The only knowledge that you have that you’re walking next to the man you love is that he takes your hand in his, slender fingers finding their way between yours.  

The carnival is half-closed when you get to the middle of it; there are still a few stragglers, but half the kiosks have their lights off already. There’s a woman dressed in flashy clothes standing on a patch of dead grass a few feet away, and she’s holding a hoop that a ginger cat is jumping through. Jaehyun steers you to them, and you stand there for a good five minute watching the cat roll on the ground and stand on its hind legs, but you can tell it’s been going it at for most of the day because at one point, it just ignores the lady, opting to weave its way between Jaehyun’s and your legs instead. You do have a pretty good time when he picks it up and cradles it in his arms so you can pet it for a second, but it just hisses when its owner approaches and jumps out of his hold, disappearing behind a row of trash bins.  

Jaehyun doesn’t have anything in his wallet apart from his credit cards and 50,000 won, and the coin machine operator says he only has enough coins left to break down 5,000 won for the games, so you end up having to jog back to his car so you can fish out some coins from inside his glove compartment. You come up with a grand total of 1,500 won, and you have to sheepishly go back to the coin machine operator to change four 100 coins and a couple of 50s just to get the last 500. Jaehyun tells you to hold onto the three coins so he doesn’t run off with them entirely and leave you destitute.  

You learn you can only do three things at most — you dedicate 500 won for the Ferris wheel entry tickets, which leaves you with 500 won each. The both of you agree on choosing one kiosk to play in, and with only about five left that are open, you don’t really have that many options. You end up dragging Jaehyun over to a stall with a pond filled with those magnetic toy fish, but 500 won only gets you one fishing rod. Since it’s your choice, Jaehyun lets you play, but you feel kind of stupid doing it on your own with him just watching you. In the end, he decides to stand behind you, his arms around your waist like he thinks closer contact isn’t even more distracting. You do manage to fish out 10 fish and win a small bear on a keychain. It doesn’t even pass through your hands as Jaehyun takes it from the stall operator immediately. 

“That’s mine!” You whine, reaching out in vain to take it from him; he just holds it high over his head. His eyes are twinkling under the shadow his cap casts over his face. “I worked hard for that.”  

“Let me keep this one,” he mimics the pleading lilt in your voice. “I’ll put it on my bag.”

“You know you can’t! Give it back.”

“I’ll win you a bigger one,” he promises. “Let me keep this one. It’s cute. It reminds me of you. I’ll kiss it goodnight before I sleep.” He starts to laugh softly. “And then you’ll feel this weird spirit kissing you at like two in the morning, and you’ll know it’s me.”  

Your arms aren’t long enough to retrieve it, and you don’t really want to, so you settle with twisting his ear. He takes it in stride even if he over-acts, making pained noises while leading you to the kiosk he wants to go to. It’s a shooting range stall, and he pays his own precious 500 won for a dart gun. He’s barely paying attention when the guy starts explaining how many points are assigned to each balloon color, more concerned with talking to the bear keychain in his hand and pretending like he’s cooing at you. You have to hit him across the shoulder to get him to focus.  

“You need to start picking out what prize you want,” he tells you — the actual you, not the animal keychain version — as he lifts the dart gun.  

“I’ll wait for you to finish first.”  

“No way.” He tilts his head, closing one eye to steady his line of sight. “Pick already. Or just go for the biggest one.”

“You know that Fortnite and dart guns aren’t the same thing, right?”  

“Yeah, but I’m well-motivated.” He grins at you, one eye still shut. He looks like a baby pirate. “Go ahead. Pick the biggest one.”

“Why don’t you just shoot, and we’ll see.”  

“Pick it,” he insists. “Tell me you have faith in me. Tell me you love me.”

“Okay, I love you,” you agree. “But I have no faith in you when it comes to this.”  

“One out of two is fine,” he concedes, taking aim.  

All three of you, including the stall operator, let out a disappointed groan when he misses his first shot. His comes with a sheepish laugh as he reloads, suddenly telling you to pick the second biggest prize instead. You can’t even watch him miss over and over, so you pretend to be interested in a bunch of teenage boys playing a game of cups one stall over, trying not to giggle when you hear him get increasingly more frustrated at himself. When you turn back around, you notice he’s holding two small pieces of gummy candy, offering one to you like a kindergartener. He helps you tug your face mask down so you can eat it.  

There’s a food stall nearby that, thankfully, accepts credit and debit; Jaehyun fishes out his card to get you a corndog — only one because he’s watching his weight for the upcoming concert, apparently. This is information you hate hearing but have no say in, and he knows this; you know he does because he says ‘don’t worry about me’ totally out of the blue, like five minutes after the conversation ceases to be relevant.  

His phone starts ringing when the food comes out, and he takes a tiny bite of it — more bread than hotdog — before he answers. You know it’s Taeyong by the way he answers.  

“Hyung, sorry — can we talk later? I’m out with ____________.”  

Taeyong says something loud but indiscernible on the other end. You piece together that it’s about tomorrow’s schedule when Jaehyun speaks again.

“I know. I’ll be home in a bit; don’t worry about it. I haven’t forgotten.”  

There’s more garbled speech on the other line; Jaehyun gestures for you to keep eating, and you do, but you more concerned with the morphing expressions on his face than you are with the act of chewing. He’s making noncommittal noises in response to what seem to be commands and reminders. You’re pretty much done with the corndog by the time he says ‘Okay, hyung. Hyung — I’ll see you later, okay?’

“Taeyong hyung says hi,” he tells you once he’s hung up the phone. “He says you still need to give back that book you borrowed from him last year.”  

“Oh yeah,” you finish off the last of the food. “I’ll drop it off within the week.”  

“Don’t worry about it. He doesn’t actually mean it.”  

Jaehyun watches you snap the stick in half and toss it in the trash bag.  

“We can go home,” you say finally. His eyebrows shoot up. “You’re busy tomorrow. I forgot.”

“I didn’t forget, and it’s fine.”  

“It’s almost two in the morning.” You check your phone to verify. “You probably have to be up in a few hours. You need to sleep, or you’ll die, Jaehyun. I’m too young to be a grieving widow.”

“Let’s at least ride the Ferris wheel,” he suggests. Before you can protest, he tugs you towards the rickety contraption, digging the 500 won out of your pocket and handing it to the bemused operator. He lets you choose what carriage you want because literally no one is on it anymore, and Jaehyun asks for the best carriage. You’re not sure how it differs from the rest, but he makes a show out of guiding you into it, and you don’t miss the corny ‘my lady,’ he mutters under his breath.   

It’s small, clearly meant for either a tiny group of children or couples who want to be as close together as possible. It’s also not air-conditioned, and only one of the windows is open, so you end up sticking to Jaehyun’s arm on the way up. The view is still great, though, and you feel his hand settle on your knee as the carriage makes it slow ascent.  

The ride up is quiet, and you press your face as close to the glass of the carriage as you dare, but Jaehyun doesn’t move an inch. His hand is still heavy on your thigh, but it doesn’t do anything but lay there. When you’re close to the top, you’re hit with the urge to do something romantic — kiss, maybe, tell him happy birthday, or say ‘I love you’ to him in the most sickening way possible — but when you turn to look at him, you have to hold your tongue.

Jaehyun is asleep, leaning against the corner of the carriage, head tilted down a little. His shoulders are rising and falling slowly, and he’s pulled down his face mask a little so he can breathe better; his lips are slightly parted by the slackening of his jaw. His left hand is shoved in his pocket, like he’d passed out halfway through reaching for something in there.  

He doesn’t wake even when you move slightly so you can lean back next to him, rocking the carriage a little — not even when you reach up and adjust his head so he can rest on your shoulder. He breathes deeply, evenly, and you wonder if his ear against your shoulder allows him to hear your heart plummet unfairly to the bottom of your stomach.  

You have to shake him to rouse him when the ride comes to an end; when he opens his eyes and realizes what happened, he looks mortified. Instinctively, he opens his mouth, but you fling the carriage door open and step out before he can apologize.

You have a deal, and he knows what he shouldn’t be doing.

His grip on your hand is much tighter as you walk back to the parking lot, and he doesn’t let go, even on the road. The trip back is quieter, maybe because it’s late, or maybe because there are a ton of things the both of you want to say but can’t.  

He slows down when he gets to your street, but when he stops in front of your building, he doesn’t immediately unlock the doors to let you out. Instead, he turns to you, licking his lips a little nervously.

“Can you…” he clears his throat because his voice cracks a little on the first attempt. “Can you come back with me? To the dorm?”  

“I have work tomorrow, Jaehyun.”  

“It’s still at eleven, isn’t it? I can bring you home before that. You still have some stuff in my room. You can get ready there.”

“Won’t you be too busy?”  

“Just—” he sighs softly. “Can you? Please?”  

You don’t know how to say no to Jaehyun, and tonight isn’t a night you’re willing to try. It’s why fifteen minutes later, you’re walking through the front door of his dorm. Donghyuck, sitting at his computer in his room with the door ajar, greets you sleepily as you pass by.  

Jaehyun steps in the shower with you; you don’t talk, maybe because you’re worried you might wake the others up if you start a full-blown conversation in a bathroom surrounded by other bedrooms. He just passes you what you need, and you do the same for him, and somewhere in between, he kisses you under the spray of the water.  

Later, he falls asleep with a face mask on, and you have to peel it off for him and toss it into the trash. The tip of his nose is shiny, and you want to kiss it, but you know it’ll wake him, and you noticed he’d set his alarm to go off two hours from now. He’s set out a couple of earplugs for you so that you don’t hear it, but you don’t put them in. You want to see him before he leaves, even if it’s in the deadest hours of morning, so you just crawl into bed with him. A minute before you doze off, you feel his damp skin press against your neck, his form curled up against your back.  

The alarm never wakes you; the sun is out when you open your eyes, and when you check your phone, you see that it’s already half-past nine. You also notice that there’s nothing from Jaehyun on your screen, but you try not to dwell on that, considering that you’d been expecting to wake up to an empty bed. His side of the mattress is cold, which means that he’s been gone for some time.  

You don’t know if it’s just because you’re groggy, but your insides still feel like lead when you sit up. The part of you that nags about this relationship is back at full force when you start thinking about Jaehyun going to a pre-recording two hours after spending the last of his energy on you. You start wondering if you’re doing the right thing if it feels like you’re just dragging him down. Your heart clenches tightly when the worst thought hits — maybe, just maybe, he’s tired of you, too.

But you won’t let him go. More to the point — you can’t. He’s the best part of your life; it’d be a cold day in hell if you decided to leave him.

Even the thought of it makes you feel like dying.  

Then again, this isn’t all up to you.  

You’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes — and maybe a couple of frustrated tears — when the door creaks open. You see two mugs and his hands before you see the rest of him come through the doorway. Jaehyun whispers a careful good morning as he sets the coffee down on his table, making sure to push his keyboard away to avoid accidents, before sitting down next to you. You notice that there’s an envelope next to one of the mugs; the flap is slightly open, and from under it, a flash of red peeks out.  

His hand finds its way back to your knee — it’s his favorite resting place, he’s told you once. Your lap feels like home, he’d joked. Maybe he touches it every so often because it’s like a reset button for him.  

He doesn’t ask if you slept well, or if you want to get ready before having your coffee, or if you’re okay. He just squeezes your knee a little tighter. It’s you that has to start the conversation this time.

“How did it go?”

“It went great. You’ll see it on TV later tonight,” he starts rubbing your thigh idly. “You’ll watch it later, right?”  

“Of course. I’ll call you and tell you how cool you look.”  

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. When you lapse into silence again, it’s because you’re expecting him to say something, but he doesn’t come out with it directly. You try not to let it show that you’re worried, that you’re skeptical, that you’re wondering if he thinks he’s too tired, too busy for this, too.  

You’re expecting him to start how most break-ups start. You know I love you, right? And then the telltale but… would come, and you would have to hold back your tears and smile for him, and tell him you know, and that you understand it isn’t the right time, but maybe one day, someday, when he isn’t everyone’s Jung Jaehyun anymore — only yours.  

“You love me, right?”  

It’s not what you’d been expecting. Nor is it the playful little text he’d sent — no laughs, no jokes. His expression is somber, mouth pressed into a thin line.  

“You know I do.”

“A lot, right?”

“A lot,” you confirm softly.  

“Then whatever it is that you’re thinking about us,” he says quietly. “Don’t. Don’t think it. Don’t do it.”  

“Jaehyun—”

“I know it’s hard,” his fingers dig into your skin a little. “I know I put you through a lot. I know you think that I’m suffering because of this relationship too. I know everything. But whatever you think I’m going to do, I won’t do it — not ever. So if you’re thinking of it too, I’m begging you. Don’t. Please.”  

Maybe he had noticed all this time. A wave of guilt washes over you when you see the pained look on his face; perhaps you were even more transparent than you’d originally thought. You nod slowly to show your understanding, and he continues.  

“I know yesterday wasn’t the best you could have hoped for,” he carefully avoids apologizing, although it’s written all over his features. “For me, too. I… I wanted something different. It’ll be better next time. Do you believe me?”  

You hear him swallow — his nails are biting into your thigh a little, so you have to gently peel his hand off. Your fingers replace it, tightening around his palm as you nod.

“I believe you.”  

“And you trust me, right?”

“With my life.”  

“Then can you put your faith in me right now?” He asks. “Don’t panic. Just — just say yes.”

He pats around his pants, finally deciding to slip his hand into his left-hand pocket. Unlike on the Ferris wheel, he manages to extract something, but he keeps it closed in his fist. It’s shaking a little as he takes your hand in his other one, pressing something small and hard into your palm before he curls your fingers over it. His hold keeps your fist closed as he starts talking.

“It’s not immediate. We’ll figure it out. We’ll tell the right people, and they’ll help us tell everyone else — the public, the press. It doesn’t have to happen right now, or any time soon either— not if you don’t want it to. We can take it slow, or whatever. Anything you want — just as long as it’s with me.”  

“Jaehyun,” you shake your head, a little dizzy. “What are you talking about?”  

He slowly loosens his hold on your fingers, his hand dropping to the same spot on your knee. You’re free to open your fist, and when you do, you can’t help but feel a little stumped.

“I don’t mean now,” he repeats, now sounding doubly worried. “It’s not — It’s just…”  

“You’ll get in trouble. We can’t.”

“I won’t. Not if we do this right. Like I said, we can do it slowly. Months — years, however long it takes to do it well. What it is — it’s just… a promise.”  

“A promise,” you echo. It does have a nice ring to it.  

“That I’m not leaving you. Not ever. And… if you say yes, that you won’t either.”  

Your coffee has probably turned cold. Jaehyun is watching you carefully, looking like he’s trying hard not to bite his lip. You look back down at your hand, and he speaks up again.  

“You know I love you, right?”  

You smile slightly. “No but?”  

“No but,” he agrees.  

The ring fits nicely on your finger; maybe it’s well-measured from the amount of times he’s held your hand tightly in his.  

“Okay, Jaehyun,” you whisper. “I promise.”  

When you place your hand on his, he twists his palm, slender fingers gently twirling the ring around the base of your finger.  

Minutes later, he hands you your coffee. It’s sweet and milky, the way he knows you like it best. When he settles back down on the bed, you notice his eyes travel to your finger again, a small smile playing on his lips.  

Perhaps, in this moment, you finally learn to ask the right questions — not about if it’s worth it, but if he is.  

And in this moment, where he sits in silence with you, the sunlight pouring in from his window hitting the tips of his hair and the end of his nose, with the knowledge that his heart is as full as yours, you come to realize that there can — and never will be — any doubt of that.  

#jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x you #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun drabbles #nct x you #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct 127 x you #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 drabbles #nct u x you #nct u x reader #nct u scenarios #nct u imagines #nct u drabbles #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #nct fluff #nct angst #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #nct u fluff #nct u angst

[moonmunson]

either way / no doubt

a/n: either way and no doubt by Odie Leigh have been on repeat currently and I relate to them so heavily so I word vomited on a Google docs. its a little rushed but oh well LMAO (I'm also always writing with a plus sized reader in mind)

cw: over thinker fem!reader, autistic coded reader, not knowing how to enter into a first serious relationship, kind lover boy!Eddie, no use of y/n

wc: 2.1k

It is the beginning of Spring when she meets Eddie Munson. Genuinely meets him, not just sees him around town and wonders what it’s like to be in his orbit. Working at the local diner, she sees him and his group of friends often. She’s served them a couple times, and they’re always respectful - albeit rambunctious. They tip well, stack their dishes for the busboys to clear, wave to her on the way out. 

It’s the day Eddie comes in by himself that marks it as different, new. He sits in her section of the diner, glances her way and then averts his gaze when she meets it. That’s odd, but she doesn’t think much else of it. Not until the end of his meal - consisting of a solitary cup of coffee and a slice of apple pie - does he stop her when she checks to see if he needs anything. 

He asks if she’d want to hang out sometime, and she laughs - a forced exhale of nerves. He asks why she’s laughing, and she doesn’t know what to say. After a few moments of awkward silence, she relents and shrugs. What would we do? He says anything she wants. What if she doesn’t know what she wants to do? He says they’ll figure it out together. 

They end up sitting in the back of Eddie’s van, the open doors facing Lover’s Lake. She’s fidgety, and stumbling over her words. He keeps staring at her when she talks and she’s not used to anybody doing this much work to stay focused on her and what she has to say, especially because she’s not saying much of substance. He asks her so many questions, and mundane ones at that. How are classes at the community college? What’s your major? She answers as best she can. 

The feeling of someone looking at her makes her skin crawl. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, she’s uncomfortably aware of the position of her nose on her face, which seems incredibly silly, and then she’s thinking about just how silly that is when he asks her if she’s alright. 

“Sorry?”

“I was just asking if you felt alright. It looked like you went away for a second there,” Eddie ducks his head down to catch her line of sight. Eye contact has always been difficult for her, but this is different - warm - like sunshine. “I know I’m not the most exciting person to talk to, but I hope you’re having a good time. I enjoy talking to you.” 

“I’m here, sorry. I like talking to you too.”

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s okay.”

“Sorry. Oh-” She sucks in a breath and places her hand over her mouth, eyes wide at the realization of her mistake. He giggles, a sweet boyish sound, and it warms his face. She thinks she could love that face, if he let her. If she knew how. She laughs too, despite herself. “It’s a bad habit. I really have to stop apologizing so much.” 

He’s still smiling when he says it’s okay, he understands. 

Later, when he drops her off at her apartment, the sun has gone down. The ride he’d offered her is relatively quiet. It’s a strange thing, to see the way someone adjusts themself around you. The usual loud heavy metal is absent here. The fast driving and sharp turns are traded in for complying with the speed limit, graceful steering and soft brakes. When he looks at her, she directs her gaze out the window - when she looks at him, he is focused on the road. 

He stops her as she takes off her seatbelt and goes to open the door, jumping out of his own and running around the front of the van to open it for her. She leads him to her front door, and he asks if he can see her again, if he can have her number. She nods, and rummages around her purse for a few frantic seconds before finding her waitress notepad and pen. When she rips the page out that she’s written her number on and hands it to him, he clutches it to his chest and smiles.  

“I’ll call you when I get home, if that’s okay. Just to let you know I made it back safely.”

“And if I want to keep talking to you?”

“We can talk for as long as you want to.” 

“Okay.” 

Eddie walks backwards for a few seconds, keeping his eyes locked on hers, paper still against his heart. By the time he’s made it back to his van, he lifts a hand up for a short wave goodbye, and turns to face the vehicle. 

Now or never. 

“Eddie?” In true Munson fashion, he whips around completely at the sound of her calling out to him. 

“Yeah, sweets?” 

“I just wanted to tell you I had a really nice time with you today. I can’t wait for you to call me later.” She tucks her hair behind her ears, needing to do something with her hands to offset the nausea brought about by her impulsive vulnerability. He smiles wider, if that’s even possible. 

“I’m glad you had a good time. I’ve been wanting to ask you out forever, Gareth and the guys kept busting my balls about it. I promise I’ll call when I get home.” 

She nods, her eyes tracking his steps as he makes it to his car. She watches him drive off. It feels so strange, this immediate wanting him to come back, wanting him to come inside and crawl into her brain. To know her fully. It scares her in a way she’s incredibly unused to. When she can’t hear the music blasting from his speakers anymore, she makes her way inside and slumps against the door for a few seconds. 

He does call when he gets home, and they talk until the sun rises. 

__

They spend the next few days talking on the phone. It’s easier like this, she thinks. She doesn’t have to worry about the way she looks when she’s thinking of something to say. She doesn’t have to avoid his white hot gaze, the way she can feel it trail over her face when she’s speaking. If he notices how much more she opens up to him when they’re not actively sitting next to each other, he doesn’t mention it. 

When they’re not on the phone, he clings to her brainspace like moss on a tree. She can’t stop thinking about him, to the point she’s worried she’s obsessing over something that isn’t there. He’d said he had a good time, he said he enjoyed talking to her, so why does it keep bothering  her so much? He feels safe. He does feel safe, but she’s not used to conversations with no expectations. No guise, no hidden agenda. If he notices the way she starts to pull away due to her overthinking, her sentences shorter and stunted, he doesn’t mention it. He carries on as usual, calling her to talk about what he’d done that day. It makes her smile. 

When he asks, unprompted, if he can see her again, she says yes. 

__

They go to the lake again. It is an early March morning, the last tendrils of Winter still grasping desperately for some kind of recognition against early Spring. He brings a blanket and hot cocoa for both of them, and she feels it in her chest - warm and sweet and chocolatey, like his eyes. It’s easier this time, talking to him. She spends less time worried about her posture and cadence - more time really listening to him speak and trying her hardest to maintain eye contact. 

The early morning breeze makes ripples on the otherwise still surface of the water. It’s so beautiful. He’s so beautiful. He’s so expressive when he speaks. She used to think he was careless, jumping on tables and riling up the people he knew didn’t like him. Seeing him up close like this, she realizes it’s kind of the opposite. It’s careful, planned, the way he uses his hands, his eyes. Even when he’s talking about a book he's read a million times, she feels like she's there among the scenery and characters he describes. It’s entirely captivating. She wants to be more like him. Carefully carefree. 

She’s never done this kind of thing - the relationship kind of thing. If that’s what this is, she has no idea how to traverse this new terrain. She can’t find her footing, she doesn’t know what the formula is, what the proper way to go about it looks like. She doesn’t think about sounding weird when she asks:

“What are we doing?” 

Eddie pauses mid sip, brings the cup back down to his lap. 

“Currently? Or like, with our lives?” He chuffs out a little laugh. Not in a teasing way, though it's hard for her to differentiate. “Because currently, from my perspective at least, I’m sitting in my van with a pretty girl talking about our favorite books. What I’m doing with my life is something a lot of people, including me, would really like to know.” 

Levity, she recognizes. 

“Sorry if it's a weird question, I just…” She trails off, breaking eye contact, looking at her hands in her lap. He scoots forward a bit, the side of his thigh touching hers as their legs dangle off the back of the van. He doesn’t push her to say anything, doesn’t acknowledge the unneeded apology, doesn’t fill the silence with his own voice.  He just waits, patiently. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him sit this still. 

“I really like you, and I really like talking to you. I’ve never done anything like this,” She uses her pointer finger to gesture between the two of them, drawing a connecting line between their bodies, “I don’t know how to, if that makes sense. I’m not really a lot of people’s type, I guess.” 

“Hey, look at me,” Eddie sets the cup down next to him and very gently takes her hand, locks their fingers together. When she raises her eyes to meet his, he continues. “There’s no rush, I mean it. You set the pace here, okay? I like you, like a lot. If all you wanna do is sit here and talk, I’m totally fine with that. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”  

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, sweets.” 

“What if you find out how weird I am and decide you don’t want to talk to me anymore?” 

At this, Eddie relinquishes his grip on her hand, hops down from the lip of the back of the van, and stands in front of her. 

“Y’know who you’re talking to?” two thumbs pointed towards himself - eyebrows raised, mouth quirked in a goofy grin, “King of the freaks, misfits, and ne'er do wells. I don’t think you could scare me off, but you’re certainly welcome to try.” 

“So just… be myself?” She scrunches her face up - the idea of being genuine is almost totally foreign to her. 

“Be yourself!” 

“Ew. Yeah, alright, fine.” She sighs in resignation and shrugs a shoulder. Doesn’t think about how convincing he is, or how willing she was to drop some of her defenses. Carefully carefree. She can do it. 

They share a laugh, finishing their luke-warm cocoa together and talking until the sun is high in the sky and the temperature rises too high for them to ignore any longer. This time, the drive home is less quiet. She meets his gaze when he looks over at her from the driver’s seat, she hums along to the sound of the radio, it's nice. Comfortable. 

Just like last time, Eddie hastens to run around the van and open her door for her. He extends a hand to help her down and out, and they stay connected on the short journey to her apartment’s front door. Eddie watches while she digs the keys out of her purse, unlocking the door and leading the both of them inside for a drink. He kicks his shoes off by the welcome mat, and they look like they belong there. 

It is the beginning of Spring when Eddie Munson permanently plants himself in her life, a steadfast source of comfort and nourishment. It is hard for her, and it takes longer than most for her to truly open up. To show him all the nooks and crannies of her mind. He takes it all in stride - her overthinking, her quirks and neuroses. He shows her that it is entirely impossible to trust someone enough to take part in the watering and flowering - that it's not a weight she has to hold alone. She can bloom.

__

if you enjoyed this story please like and reblog!!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson my beloved #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #it is possible to be mentally ill and be in a healthy relationship #it's rotten work #not to me #not if its you #sio writes

[numinously-yours]

Pick a card: From your Soulmate

Happy Friday! Today's reading is a soulmate reading. Your reading includes: Characteristics of your soulmate & a note from them <3

Pile 1: Ace of Pentacles

I’ve been kicked down in life, but each time I get back up the light at the end of the tunnel gets brighter. I have been trying hard to trust in the universe because I know it’s bringing me everything I could want – and that’s you. You are such a compassionate, beautiful, smart, and wonderful person pile 1. You know how they say to never stop dating the person you’re with? That is my plan with you – to woo you forever. You deserve to be wined and dined. I hope to show you each day how much you mean to me. I’ll bring you flowers. I’ll give you shoulder rubs. I’ll tell you silly jokes just to make you laugh. I will spend our time together making sure you never feel unloved. You are my manifestation and I can’t wait to be with you.

Pile 2: The Lovers

Your love is a breath of fresh air. Being with you brings me mental clarity. It makes me understand that the way I’ve been treated in relationships up until now were not an accurate representation of a healthy relationship. Gosh, it is so refreshing! You may find when we begin our relationship that I am hesitant to make big decisions. Because you are showing me something I’ve never known before, it is going to take a little time for me to be convinced that you’re not going away. But let me tell you, once I am shown time and time again that you show up, it is game over (in the best way). The way that we align will take away all the doubts I’ve ever had about love. And I won’t be able to thank you enough.

Pile 3: The Hanged Man

A lot of my life has been about competition; mainly, competition with myself. I have a need to prove myself. I want to be the best at what I do. And I know that that mindset isn’t always the most productive. With you in my life, soulmate, I am reminded to pause. I am reminded that there are more perspectives out there from my own and that I’m allowed to let go of what I think SHOULD be to open room for what IS. You’re really going to allow me to look at my shadow self and understand why I have this need to be better than the previous version of me. You’re going to help me see the restraints that I’m binding myself with. My competitive nature will always be a part of me but I’m looking forward to the time in my life where I can experience joy just being who I am, where I don’t feel like I need to be constantly winning. My life with you is the ultimate prize.

Pile 4: Two of Cups

I’ve held myself back for much of my life with the fear that I don’t have the tools to succeed. I always think that if I just had that one thing – more money, more confidence, more time – that then I can take the plunge. At times, I also find myself wanting to do everything for everyone. If I put effort into one thing, I feel like I am neglecting the other, and then I stop doing either. I want to be the best RIGHT NOW, no matter how unrealistic. And then you came into the picture. My inspiration, my muse, my reminder that each day is a clean slate. Not only do I know we will grow together, but I know that I will grow personally because of you. You never fail to encourage me to follow my dreams. You have a way of reminding me that, even if I “fail”, I can always get something out of a situation which means I didn’t fail at all. I really hope I can do the same thing for you because you deserve the same, if not more, of the energy you give to me.

#soulmate #soulmate reading #letters from your soulmate #tarot #tarot reading #pick a card #free reading #ace of pentacles #two of cups #the lovers tarot #the hanged man tarot

[moonstruckme]

Burnt Out

summary: when you're overworking yourself trying to please everyone, Remus wants you to take some time for yourself

cw: mention of not eating, exhaustion 

Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Remus is reading in your bedroom when he hears the door open, screaming on its hinges, and slam shut. Just that noise lets him know what kind of day you’re having, but he gets up and moves towards the sound anyway, eager to see you.

“Dove?” he calls as he enters the kitchen, where he finds you already surrounded by sandwich supplies, slathering jelly onto a piece of bread you’ve placed directly onto the counter in your rush.

You turn around at his voice. “Remus, hi!” You beam, surging toward him. 

He catches you as you stumble, clipping your hip on the corner of the counter, and a soft, sympathetic hiss escapes him. “Careful,” he murmurs, covering the spot with his hand protectively as you press yourself to his chest, your arms winding around his neck. Remus brings his other hand to the center of your back, squeezing gently, and he wishes he could pour his affection into you this way, through the palm of his hand. 

“Sorry,” you say into his neck, though he’s unsure why you’re apologizing to him. It’s your poor hip that’s been slighted. “I didn’t know you were home.” 

“I haven’t been here long,” he assures you. 

You pull back, brushing your lips against his in a kiss that feels like it’s over before it’s begun, and he tries in vain to hold onto you as you move away. You resume rushing around the kitchen, letting cabinets and drawers bang shut behind you. Ordinarily you move almost silently, always easing the front door shut behind you and moving around the apartment on socked feet, much to Remus’ amusement when he comes into the living room to find you curled up on the couch with a cup of tea and dinner already in the oven, and he wasn’t even aware you were home. But on your busiest days, you turn into this—what he’s affectionately dubbed your Tornado of Productivity—and the time it takes to be your usual quiet, careful self simply doesn’t serve your goal of functioning at maximum efficiency. You’d been in this state for the last few days, never seeming to have more than a few minutes’ break between work and school and the myriad of social obligations Remus suspects you only agree to because of the guilt you’ve associated with the word “no.”

“How was your day?” Remus asks probingly. 

You blow out a breath that answers his question before you do. “Crazy,” you admit, washing a tomato in the sink. “I had a test at noon, and I didn’t study yesterday because I thought I’d have time this morning, but then I had to go in to work.” 

He feels his brow furrow. “Didn’t you work last night?”

“Yeah, but—” you absentmindedly grab a knife from the drawer, then another, until finally you find the one you need “—Mia didn’t sleep well last night, so I told her I could take her shift.” 

“Dove.” Remus tries to keep his reprimanding tone gentle. “You barely slept last night either.”

“I know,” you sigh again, and you sound so exhausted Remus wants to seize you and swaddle you in blankets so you have no choice but to rest. Get you in bed and kiss the crease between your eyebrows until it fades away. Give you the cosseting you deserve. “But she asked for my help, and—anyway, I don’t feel great about the test since I only had a few minutes to study right before.”

“I’m sorry,” he says earnestly. “I’m sure it went better than you think.”

You flash him a kind, if somewhat forced, smile. “Thanks.” You’ve just finished the sandwiches, of which Remus now notices there are three. Three completely different sandwiches: peanut butter and jelly, ham and cheese, and something involving lettuce and tomato. He can’t imagine what you need that variety for, but he rarely understands what you’re up to when you’re this scatterbrained. Your mission nearly complete, you seem to be short-circuiting in the middle of the kitchen, standing with your hands raised as if prepared for your next task and your features scrunched up bemusedly. 

“Plates?” Remus suggests gently. 

“No, sorry—I need, um—” You shake your head as if chastising yourself. “Tupperware. I need tupperware.” You roll your eyes, seemingly at your own forgetfulness. It makes Remus feel defensive, though to defend you against yourself seems like a conflict of interests. You open the cabinet above your microwave, reaching for the containers. “Marlene and Mary want to meet, but I haven’t had time to eat since breakfast…” You appear sheepish at Remus’ exasperated look, but he doesn’t interrupt. “...so I said I’d make us all sandwiches.” 

You’re struggling to reach the tupperware, and Remus nudges you out of the way, passing them to you. “Dove,” he says, using his new proximity to set his hands on your shoulders, preventing you from dashing off again, “don’t you think you need some time to rest? You’ve had a long day, I’m sure the girls will understand you wanting to meet another time.” You bite your lip, anxious at the idea of canceling on your friends. “And,” he adds lightly, “I wouldn’t mind getting to spend some time with you too. I feel like I’ve hardly seen you the last few days.”

“Oh.” Your eyes widen, so instantaneously guilty he wishes he could take it back. “I’m so sorry, Remus, you’re right. I, um.” Your brow furrows, gaze moving over his shoulder to some faraway place, and Remus can see your overworked gears turning again, your fatigued brain struggling to solve this new dilemma. “I have class in the morning, but I shouldn’t be home too late tonight if—or, I actually have about fifteen minutes before I’m meeting Mary and Marl, do you want to hang for a bit now and then maybe walk with me?”

“I want you to take time for yourself,” Remus says firmly, though not unkindly. “I’m not trying to give you another task, love, I promise.” He lets his hands drop from your shoulders to where your fingers are fidgeting anxiously, easing his own between them. “But you’re spreading yourself too thin. Marlene and Mary love you, and that’s not gonna change if you don’t always have time to meet when they do.” You slouch slightly against the counter, beginning to resign yourself unhappily to the idea of staying in, and Remus kisses the top of your head sympathetically. “You can put your sandwiches in the fridge so they stay ready for you, and I’ll make us whatever you want for dinner. Pasta?” he asks, to sweeten the deal. 

Your gaze meets his again, your interest piqued. “That sounds amazing.”

“Alright, pasta,” he says decisively, smiling at you solely so you’ll smile back. It works, and he’s pleased to note that it looks a bit less strained than before. He begins herding you towards the living room, and maybe it’s wishful thinking, but he imagines he can see the guilt in your eyes slowly fading away as you let them droop slightly, giving into the relaxation Remus is peddling so persuasively. “And we can watch a movie, and cuddle, yeah?”

You hum assent, releasing a little sigh of contentment as you sink into the couch cushions and giving Remus your sweetest, most adoring look as he settles in beside you, covering you with a blanket. “Thank you,” you say, packing the words with enough sincerity to make Remus’ heart ache. “I’ll try to…cut back, a bit.” 

“No one will hold it against you,” he promises, knowing you need to hear it, “and if they do, send them to me for a scolding.”

You grin. “That would be a cruel punishment, I’m not sure I could do that to some poor soul.” You tilt your chin upwards, and he meets you halfway, the kiss lingering and sweet. You brush your thumb tenderly along Remus’ jaw as you pull away, and he knows what you’re feeling before you open your mouth. The same sentiment echoes through his chest. “I love you,” you whisper, like it’s a sacrament. “Promise you’ll still love me back if I meet up with the girls tomorrow and pencil you in for after?”

Remus huffs a laugh, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Alright, love, I promise.” 

#remus lupin #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #marauders era #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin scenario #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin baby blurb #marauders

[littlelostmoon]

könig with a small titty gf ༢ೀ⊹

tags [boyfriend könig x fem reader] smut, mild hurt/comfort, established relationship, insecurities, biting, grinding, spit wc 950 [oneshot]

a/n first real post ♡

you weren’t stupid. you could tell how much könig adored your tits.

it started on your third date with him. it was a rather hot day and you swapped your usual sweater for a lace camisole, a detail that wouldn't go unnoticed. on several occasions he had to tear his eyes away from your chest with flushed cheeks.

you assumed he was inexperienced and his little infatuation would wear out with time. but, no— each time könig gets his hands on you, he’s overcome with desperation.

you’ve lost count of how many times he’s had you straddle his lap while you do something completely mundane (like chatting about your day). if you accidentally brush your chest against his, there’s a good chance you’ll feel the heat of his bulge growing against your thigh. “my fault, prinzessin…”

other times könig is shameless. stressful days on the field often wipe him of all decorum, so he’ll interrupt whatever you’re doing at home by pressing his frame against your back, large hands easily cupping your tits. it makes him breathe heavier in your ear. “missed me, schatz?”

needless to say, you were never insecure. that is, until you’re curled up in his bed, messing with his hair as he plays some shitty mobile kingdom game, phone absolutely tiny in his hands.

he’s had the app for months to de-stress (which is cute) but you haven’t truly sat and watched him play until tonight. all joy evaporates the moment you realize he can’t build new fortresses without watching a long ad— usually of some huge-breasted woman in historically inaccurate armor.

“verdammt ads,” he huffs.

“why don’t you just get the paid version?”

“waste of money.”

you couldn’t help yourself from prodding. “frugal. you like seeing them or something?”

he stares at you for a second before returning to his game, clicking around and updating his armor. “you puzzle me, schatz.”

"le'mme pay, then.”

he raised his brow as if you just suggested stealing from the homeless. "nein."

well, that whole interaction bruised your ego. the man had no problem buying you an overpriced coffee or taking the whole bill on dates, but couldn’t scrape up the cash (or let you scrape up the cash) to get anime tits off his screen? seriously?

you pull away from him and roll onto your side, facing the wall. after a few moments the ambient music from his phone shuts off. must be ready for bed. whatever. no cuddling tonight.

just as you reach a semblance of peace, your eyes snap open at the feeling of being manhandled onto your back. oof.

könig hovers close over you, knees on either side of yours. his raspy voice indicates he's lacking good sleep. “what do you think you’re doing?”

you shrug to the best of your ability. all of your space to breathe is occupied by him. there’s no real venom behind his words or how he handles you; he merely forgets his strength, especially under stress.

“could it be that mein häschen is jealous?”

you shake your head quickly, attempting to wriggle away. könig only braces himself firmer above you. your face grows hot— the scent of his aftershave is intoxicating, and his focused gaze doesn’t help.

“don’t lie to me.”

“fine,” you stutter, and everything flows out at once. “why wouldn’t i be? you don’t give a shit about spending money until it comes to the fucking advertisements of girls with their tits out."

the room is hit with intense silence. you can only hear the air conditioner buzzing and crickets and cars and it nearly drives you insane. he just looks down at you with an emotion you can’t pinpoint. is it disappointment?

no, könig knows you. despite the bite in your tone, he probably understands that you're seeking reassurance. or, that's what you hope. never been on your boyfriend's bad side.

finally, he moves, lips resting dangerously close to your neck. you can feel a breathy chuckle fan across the length of it, pulling you from your thoughts. “want to know what i think, prinzessin?”

you nod nervously still, but the pang of jealousy is wilting and blooming into something exciting.

“you are what is worth money to me.” he then coaxes your inner thighs apart and settles his hips between them, voice coming out strained. butterflies circle low in your stomach when you realize what he wants to do.

“könig…”

“don’t even notice other girls, just want you, always thinking of you, häschen…” his accent is thicker, now. he’s evidently hard as a fucking rock, huge, and it rests right between your legs.

you squirm as he holds your pliant hips, grinding crudely against the wet spot in your panties. you’re dizzy from the feeling, slumped back against the mattress and taking whatever he gives you.

for just a second you miss his hands on you before he pushes your bralette up, exposing your tits to his (now fully blown out) eyes. calloused fingers brush against your nipple and you swear it makes his cock twitch in his boxers.

könig’s free hand finds one of yours, much smaller, and pins it above your head. he grunts at how tight you squeeze when his breath ghosts across your chest, mouthing each of your nipples until they’re slick with his spit.

he might be drooling. you might be, too. you don’t care. 

“pretty, perfect girl…” he says it all with his mouth full, panting, hands splayed across your ribs while he bites and sucks little marks all over. he then passes his tongue in neat sweeps over each bruise, attempting to soothe the pain— but you both know your tits will be sore for a week.

soft noises spill from your lips but the daze of arousal has you practically incapable of being shy.

you assume the same is true for him. he's rambling at this point, vocal as ever, shifting your hips up to tug your panties. “get these off before i cum early and have us both soaked, engel. wanna feel it in your stomach."

#könig #könig smut #könig oneshot #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #call of duty smut #call of duty oneshot #cod oneshot

[marypaol]

Tension in Potion-Making

Draco x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Insecurity, jealously, possessive personality, that’s all :)

Summary: Reader and Draco have been friends since early childhood, and something stirs between them when asked to make Amortentia.

Note: For the wonderful

@just-another-reader1098

I don’t know why I struggled writing this, I deleted so much with the ending and re-wrote a bunch of options. I didn’t know how you wanted angst involved and I’m sorry I didn’t put as much as probably desired. I hope you enjoy it anyways and thank you so much for requesting!

Masterlist

___

The girl couldn’t remember her life before Draco, like he was a person that was meant to enter her life and guide her towards the right direction. Or he just happened to join her life story and happened to impact it so much.

Whatever the reason may be he was always there, either lingering in the back of her mind or by her side to make snarky remarks or complaints. She was used to it by now, however, having dealt with his attitude for years on end that nothing was new to her. If only she could replay their life together like a movie film she would then take the time to recognize what she truly had. She was beyond grateful for the boy, he kept her sane and whenever someone dared to bother her they would quickly realize who they were messing with.

Their friendship was a linger in memory ever since then but it didn’t ever die, nor did it go back to the way it was. They were kids, little mindless kids that didn’t know that being friends who goofed around and shoved chocolate frogs in their mouths would have such an impact on their lives.

She wouldn’t change one thing about it though, oh Merlin no, because it wouldn’t prove the development they’ve had over the years. Development meaning lingering touches and long glances but nothing strong enough to confront each other about.

That was the way she felt until one day in which she thought would be normal. She didn’t expect not only to be sharing Potions with the Gryffindors, but to be making the most powerful love Potion in existence.

“This is ridiculous.” Draco muttered when Snape informed them.

“I don’t see the purpose of this stupid Potion anyway; it’s not like I’m going to smell anything.” He snarled. “Like how does the House Cup have a scent?”

She kept in her laugh, shaking her head. “No, Draco. It’s about love and your deepest attraction… showing your deepest desire for an unknown person…I wonder who I’m going to smell.” She said, not being able to help but think of the possibilities.

Draco scoffed at the dream-like tone she was using, looking over at her from his cutting board.

“You? Smelling anyone? Oh please, I doubt someone would even smell you.”

A normal person talking to Draco would be hurt, but she was used to the teasing and banter that practically flooded from his mouth like water so instead she slapped him on the arm and watched in satisfaction when he rubbed the spot.

“I’m serious; I bet you’re curious about who you’ll smell.” She said back.

Malfoy scoffed like it was the most ridiculous thing he ever heard, but what she didn’t know was that he was more curious than ever. Did all his wants, besides wanting to prove to his father that he’s worthy, come to the idea of someone understanding and loving him? Was there someone already out there and he was about to find out who? Just by leaning in and taking a soft sniff of this bubbling liquid that the cauldron beheld? Yet the smallest sniff would give the strongest scent, revealing who he desired most.

Draco scoffed again to get rid of the thoughts and to prove his point further on how silly it was.

“Me, a Malfoy, wondering who I smell. Stupid and absurd, really, I tell you.” He mumbled under his breath. “I’ll stick my nose in there and smell the copper of the House Cup, that’s for sure.”

He watched as she nudged some ingredients towards him so he could cut them, rolling her eyes at his behavior.

“Really? Your deepest attraction is a cup made of copper?” She tested, scooping something into the Potion, watching as it bubbled and smoked from the addition to the mix.

Draco seemed to be scoffing a lot that day, because that’s what he did just then.

“No, take a joke. Obviously I’ll be smelling my own scent because everyone’s desire for me will be so strong this whole room will be able to smell it.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a little. Draco scowled.

“You think it’s funny do you? The facts are funny now; every girl is drooling over me and it’s absolutely hilarious to think about.”

She shook off the laugh coming up her throat, composing herself.

“What if I don’t smell you?” She tested, watching for his reaction.

His eyes stopped on hers, looking at her face with such intensity that it made her sink into her feet a little. He eyed her up and down, silver orbs seeming to absorb her appearance.

“You better.” He said simply, but it sounded like a threat, vanishing the playful banter in the air that was previously present, replacing it with think fog and tension that surrounded itself between them.

“And why should I smell you?” She bravely asked, staring right back into his eyes. He made a chop with his knife that was harder compared to the others, staring at her harder than before.

“You’re mine, that’s why.”

Hope you liked it! 🫶🏻

#draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #imagines #tom felton x reader #x reader #stories #@just-another-reader1098

[frostbitebakery]

INTRODUCING: Quinlan Vos, Professional Bestie

two IGMHC vignettes

“I— had a friend,” Ben says. “Growing up. At least for a little while.” - Obi-Wan, chapter 2, IGMHC

HUMAN SACRIFICES ARE ONLY PASSÉ WITH THE WRONG ATTITUDE

Fox ignores him. “Cody, I’m this close to a murderous rampage.”

Vos brightens. “Cody! The one who’s fucking a Si—“

“That’s Marshal Commander Cody,” Cody says icily and even Fox needs to suppress a shiver. “Who the fuck are you.”

“How do you even know ,” Fox starts and recoils from the wink Vos throws him.

“Shadow, remember? It’s my job to know more than is strictly healthy for me.” Vos nods his chin to the comm. “ Marshal Commander Cody, tell Obes his childhood bestie would like a hello sometime.”

“You know him?” Fox whispers harshly - yells, but whose narrative is this, thanks - while Cody mutters an incredulous “ Obes ?”.

Read the rest on AO3

TRUTH-INCINERATOR CAUGHT MAKING FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS, MORE AT 11

The past worn like a mask because of how Obi-Wan was is useful to how he now is. And, if the faint rumors are true, spoken so hushed within the confines of the council chambers only, the relicts have turned into goals again. To make what once was true again.

Quin’s head spins from the spirals Obi-Wan has contorted himself into.

“Is that so,” Obi-Wan comments quietly, watching him back. “My heart warms from your efforts. A cup wouldn’t go amiss either.”

Quin inclines his head. “Sorry, we’re not at the best buds level where I trust you with anything that can be used as a weapon.” The preparations for this meeting had been endless and frustrating. No weapons on either their persons so Obi-Wan couldn’t use Quin’s lightsaber against him. A Force suppression collar around Obi-Wan’s neck which doesn’t seem to bother him at all. Thick gloves on Quin, no sliver of skin bare for taking advantage of his psychometry. Master Windu had thoroughly gone over Quin’s shields with him. The Council had left nothing unprepared.

“You don’t fidget as much as when we were younger,” he says. He gotta start somewhere, silence has never been his forte, and suddenly it’s vitally important to understand the line that had been drawn somewhere and cut his best friend out of Quin’s life. “You used to always do something with your hands.” Obi-Wan had needed the stimulation. To concentrate, to expense restlessness, to focus away from anything and everything overwhelming.

Yellow eyes continue to look at him. There’s pity in them now. “It’s been beaten out of me.”

Quin grins, quick, regretful and unsurprised. He can imagine, colorfully, and his heart breaks a little more. “Your words have always known where to cut deepest and quickest.”

“Thank you.”

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#sithy wan cinematic universe in my head #quinlan vos #obi wan kenobi #sith!obi wan #commander fox #commander cody #codywan #quinfox #star wars #my fic #these two vignettes have been sitting in my wips forever #time to yeet!