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kakashisbabymama218 · 2 months

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lol so this ended up being wayyy longer than i expected, just under 3k

Also, not edited so hopefully there aren’t many mistakes! If so I’ll fix it when I wake up cause ya girl is sleepy lol.

You can read part 1 here

you were barely halfway through your shift when you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. you decide to ignore it for now, instead getting back to the task you were working on.

its ten minutes later when you're able to take your break, you head out towards the parking lot, seeing your car parked in the middle of the sea of cars and walk over towards it, unlocking the door and sitting down in the drivers seat.

you pull your phone out from your pocket and open it, noticing a new text message from katsuki. your fingers instantly click on the notification only to see its a video he sent.

you remember he said something about going to a party with eijirou and denki and figure its just a video of the three of them drunk off their ass and yelling into the camera or something like it usually is.

however, when you click play it doesn't take long for you to realize that this is not anything like the normal videos you receive. your eyes widen instantly and your head snaps up, looking back and forth and even behind you just to be safe, making sure no one else is in the parking lot before your eyes are dropping back down to your phone just in time to see katsuki pushing his pants down on his hips and his cock springing free.

your mouth waters at the sight, your legs squeezing together instinctively, eyes glued to the phone. you swallow as he takes his length into his hands, letting his hand drag up and down his dick and your ears perk up at the sound of him groaning softly in the background, hands instantly moving to turn the volume up all the way, wanting to hear each and every sounds that falls from his lips as he pleasures himself.

his thumb rubs at his tip, smearing the precum that dripped from his tip along the purplish tip and you can practically taste him on your tongue.

katsuki lets his dick go, and you watch , eyes moving along with it as if hypnotized, as it bounces up and down softly before settling. movement above catches your attention and you watch as katsuki begins racking his nails up and down his stomach, something you know he loves when you do it to him.

the hand that isn't holding your phone moves down to your legs, rubbing your thighs as you continue to watch katsuki touch himself.

you jump the first time he says something, not prepared for him to talk.

“fuckkk pretty girl—” and shit he already sounds so fucked out and he's barely even started.

your hand begins to slip inside the waistband of your pants, wanting nothing more than to give throbbing clit the attention its begging for when the quiet rumbling of an engine pulls your attention away from the video, your head raising as you see a car pull into the spot directly next to you and you immediately click out of the video, pulling up a random app you have on your phone as your cheeks heat up at the fact that you were really about to play with your pussy in the parking lot of you job.

after a minute or two you glance over at woman in the car next to you, wishing she'd hurry up and get out already so you can keep watching the video, but she's looking down at her phone and you can tell she's not going anywhere anytime soon. you let out a groan and look around the parking lot wishing she parked literally anywhere else.

your damp panties cling to you uncomfortably and you squeeze your legs together to get some sort of friction to your throbbing clit, silently reminding yourself that you are in fact in public so you cant actually make yourself cum.

the sound of a car door opening pulls you from the ache in your pants and you see the woman getting out of her car, closing the door behind herself and walking in the direction of your job.

alone again, you do another quick sweep of the parking lot, making sure there's no one around before your clicking back over to the video.

“wish it was you bouncing on this dick”

and fuck so do you, you wanna feel the fullness you feel everytime you sink down on katsuki's fat cock, the stinging stretch you feel no matter how many fingers katsuki uses to stretch you out or how long he preps you for. he's just so... thick, that it always brings a painful kind of pleasure.

“don’t worry pretty girl, imma come stretch that pussy out when you get off”

at the reminder of your job your head raises. you take your bottom lip between your teeth, debating.

you leaving early wouldn't really be that bad, you guys were overstaffed for it to be such a slow night, and you have complete faith in your coworkers that they can handle the rest of the night without you.

it doesn't take you long to make you're decision, you're completely exiting off of the video and stuffing your phone back into your pocket, not bothering to finish the video, you'll be getting the real thing soon anyway.

you head back inside of your job, going towards your managers office and knocking. after telling her some shitty excuse about having a family emergency and how you have to go you grab your stuff, calling out a goodbye to your coworkers before you back outside and speed walking to your car.

you know katsuki is at his place because of the message he sent you after sending the video.

this party sucks. going back home, come over when you get off.

luckily his apartment wasn't too far from your job and in less than ten minutes you're pulling up to the familiar building. you park and hurry towards the door, using the key katsuki gave you to let yourself in.

you take the stairs up to the third floor, not bothering with the elevator until you're standing in front of katsuki's door. you fumble around with your keys a little before finding the right one and pushing it into the key hole, twisting it until it clicks. You walk inside, toeing your shoes off at the door.

its dark inside, the only light inside coming from the small space under katsuki's bedroom door. you hear him curse before he's calling someone a shitty extra and you figure he's playing his game.

you make your way to the door, pushing it open, flooding the dark hallway with light. katsuki's head turns at the sound of his door being opened and a surprised look crosses his face. he turns his headset off and sets it down before turning back towards you.

he glances up at the clock on the wall above your head and back down at you.

"what are you doing here so early? I thought you didn't get off for three more hours." he says but you don't respond, instead you're taking his controller in your hand and tossing it onto his bed before crawling into his lap.

your hands tangle in his blonde strands as you press your lips into his. katsuki's hands find your waist, pulling you closer as he kisses you back, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip. your lips part instantly and katsuki doesn't hesitate, pushing his tongue into your mouth and slotting it against yours.

he tastes like mint with the lingering taste of weed and you moan at the combination, tugging on his hair as you grind yourself down against his growing erection, groaning at the clothing barrier that separates the two of you.

you pull away to mess with the strands of his sweatpants, untying them before trying to push them down. katsuki lifts his hips off of the chair, helping you pull his pants down enough to free his cock.

"you didn't answer my question" he says, watching you spit in your hand before wrapping it around his length. "what are you doing here so early?"

you don't answer, too focused on pumping him fast, your grip tight as you stare down at his cock.

he takes your jaw between his hands, squeezing your cheeks together and forcing you to look up at him. the hand you have wrapped tightly around his cock pauses as you stare into his red eyes, darkened with arousal.

"don't tell me you left work early just to get some dick. fuckin cock slut."

the words are mean but they're completely true, you did leave work early to get fucked and you were a cock slut— his cock slut.

"i saw your video" you tell him, as you begin moving your hand again, slower this time but your grip still just as tight. katsuki smirks.

"yeah?" he questions, tilting his head to the side. you hear him suck in a breath when you begin thumbing at his tip, smearing his precum the same way you say him do in the video.

"yeah. got so turned on i was ready to finger myself right there in the parking lot. probably woulda if someone didn't park next to me"

katsuki's dick twitches in your hand at the mental image of your spread out in the backseat of your car, fingers pumping in and out of your tight pussy as you watch him jerk off for you.

you let out a surprised yelp when katsuki places his hands on your ass before lifting you both out of the chair, he walks the few steps over towards his bed. he tosses you onto the soft mattress before pulling his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere in the room.

he crawls onto the bed, settling himself between your legs, his head directly in front of your clothed cunt. he drags his finger up and down your slit, feeling the warmth even through the layers of clothes you have.

in one swift motion, he has your legs pushed up with your knees by your head, pulling both your pants and panties down at the same time until they're pooling at your feet, you kick them off the rest of the way, letting the drop to the floor as katsuki takes his place between your legs once again.

the first lick against your sensitive clit was too much, after being ignored for so long the pleasure of finally being touched is almost enough to make you cum right then and there. your back arches off the bed, hands yanking at katsuki's hair.

his eyes are focused on your face, watching as your mouth falls open in a long moan when he takes your clit between his lips and starts to suck and slurp at the bundle of nerves.

"shit katsuki—fuck" you grind your hips up against his face, one of your hands coming to push your shirt and bra up over your chest, freeing your tits to the cool air circulating throughout the room, knowing katsuki likes the cold. your nipples harden even more when the cold air hits them and you take one of them between your fingers, pinching and rolling the nub as katsuki laps at your clit.

it doesn't take long— it never does, not when katsuki is sucking on your clit just right—for you to feel the familiar tightening in your tummy, your toes curling as you moan out a pathetic broken version of his name. two of katsuki's thick fingers plunge inside of you, he doesn't give you time to adjust as he curls his fingers upwards, looking for that spot that'll have you screaming out his name in seconds.

he knows he's found it when you're crying out and trying to close your legs around his head. he focuses his thrusts on the same spot, over and over again until your back is rising off the bed completely and your screaming out his name.

he continues lapping at your cunt, drinking down every drop of slick that gushes out of you as you cum on his tongue. his fingers slow down but never stop moving as he helps you ride out your orgasm. you're panting by the time he moves his head from between your legs, instead moving to lay next to you on the bed, his hand stroking his cock as he spreads his legs.

"cmon pretty girl, want you to ride me" he says, licking his lips and patting his lap.

you swing your leg over his, feeling his hard cock under your cunt and you grind back and forth, hissing and letting your head fall against his shoulder when it rubs against your overly sensitive clit.

you lift yourself up as katsuki lines himself up with your opening. you moan out in unison as you begin sinking down onto his cock. katsuki has to stop himself from wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest and fucking up into you fast and hard.

he'll let you take the lead... for now that is.

your hands find his chest, feeling his muscles under your fingers and you barely have to think before you're dragging your fingers up and down his pecks, letting them slide down to the tiny red marks on his stomach from where he scratched himself earlier at the party.

you lift yourself up on shaky knees, before sinking right back down, still not taking the whole thing inside yet but slowly moving down inch by inch.

"fuck kats', your so big'" you whine out when you finally take him in to the hilt. you feel so full, your tight walls clenching tightly around him as you let yourself adjust to the stretch.

katsuki tisks, thrusting up into you—hard. "thought i told you to ride me" he says with hard slap to your ass. you whine out again at the sting but lift yourself up anyway. you begin properly riding him, sliding yourself up and down on his length, grinding your hips against his, moaning as your clit rubs against his pelvis.

katsuki lifts his head off of the pillow and pushes his face into your chest, taking his lips and wrapping them around you nipple, one of his hands coming up to toy with the other one.

he can tell you're getting tired when your movements become sloppy, so he takes that as his que.

"hold on tight" he murmurs against your chest.

you barely hear him, grabbing onto his shoulders at the last second before your breath is stolen right from your lungs.

katsuki wraps his arms around your middle and plants his feet on the bed below him. he holds onto you tightly as he pounds into you, the sounds of skin slapping against skin immediately bounces off the walls at the pace he fucks you.

"ka— kat-suk-iiii fuckkkkk" you cant even think straight, the feeling of katsuki's cock plunging in and out of you rapidly must have your brain all jumbled because the only thing you can think of is dick dick dick dick dick, the word repeating itself over and over again in your head as you claw at his shoulders hard enough to draw blood, but katsuki barely even notices, too busy using you as a human fleshlight to worry about something as trivial as a few drops of blood.

he's close, dick twitching deep inside of your walls and he can tell by the way your squeeze him so tightly that you're close too. he slows down, dragging himself out slowly, leaving nothing but his tip in before snapping his hips forwards, knocking the wind out of you with each thrust, trying to hang on just a little long so that the two of you can cum together.

he flips the two of you over, laying you flat against the mattress with your head resting on the pillow.

"play with your pussy" he tells you, pulling away from you just far enough to let your hand slip between your legs, fingers ghosting over your clit.

"i'm not gonna last much longer" you tell him as you apply pressure to your clit, moving your fingers in circular motions.

"me— shit, me either" he tells you, hips stuttering a bit as you clench down tightly around him, fingers speeding up the assault on your clit. "gonna cum with me pretty girl?" he asks against your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"mhmm... yeah fuck"

katsuki pulls back, angling his hips and hitting your gspot head on. thats all it takes for you to cum, body convulsing as your orgasm crashes into you, your toes curling as katsuki continues to fuck your through your orgasm.

it doesn't take long before you feel his warm seed shooting deep inside of you, pushing further inside of your walls as katsuki continues to thrust into you until he's positive he's emptied his heavy balls inside of your cunt.

you feel as it begins dripping out of your hole the second he pulls out, flopping down on the bed next to you, breathing hard and sweating. he looks over at you, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

he leans down and pokes your cheek "i can't believe you really left work just to come get some dick"

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xueyuverse · 20 days

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It's ironic to me that part of the fandom insists so much that Hua Cheng's personality revolves around Xie Lian when in fact MXTX created Hua Cheng first and then had to make Xie Lian his ideal type. Like, the truth is that Xie Lian was molded for Hua Cheng. I find this contradiction very funny, I'm sorry.

But they were indeed created for each other.

Hua Cheng has a strong personality, he is firm in his ideals and beliefs, assertive in his opinions, cold in his justice and someone who does not bend the rules just to fit in, he creates a third way instead of adapting to a world that hates him and was cruel to him.

His ideal type would have to be someone as confident as him, who not only does not bend the rules, but also does not get corrupted by difficulties, someone benevolent enough to see people like him with kindness, because only someone faithful in his beliefs would be able to be so different from everything that the world says is right — because the right thing is for you to annihilate people like Hua Cheng, whether they are innocent or not, just because of a supposed curse that they did not ask for.

This meta is based on this excerpt from the afterword that MXTX put in TGCF ↓

When it comes to character designs, the Shou’s were decided on first for the first two novels, but I was torn over the Gong’s for a long time, and needed a run-in period. Hua Cheng, however, was an exception. Inspiration struck and there he was; inspiration struck again, and I blinded one of his eyes.

[...]

It was actually the Shou, Xie Lian, who tortured me for up to half a year’s time. When the novel started serializing, I was still torn over him for a long time.

[...]

But the most important thing is, by my instincts, someone like Hua Cheng will most definitely love someone like this. So, after a good half a year’s worth of qualms, in the end I still typesetted him: It’s you!

Speaking more about this postscript, I found it interesting how for MXTX, Xie Lian was the most difficult character she has ever played. People tend to think that Xie Lian only has two personality traits: (false, for many) kindness and idiocy. The idiocy may even be right lol, but when you stop to think about it, Xie Lian is a really difficult character to create and, mainly, to develop.

For all the layers he has, he could easily be a snobbish prince, a vengeful and bitter ex-prince, a fallen prince who rises again to reconquer his kingdom and reclaim his throne or a spotless saint who is always intelligent and wise and is above things like sadness, anger, lust, etc.

We know that Xie Lian is none of these things, he was not made for these plots. But if he is none of these things, then what could he be? Honestly, I find it very difficult for anyone to come to the conclusion that your protagonist is a "loser" who failed and has no ambition to rebuild his kingdom and become the new king. It's bold to make your protagonist a poor and extremely unlucky nomad, especially with the princely background that you gave him, we can see from the amount of stories out there about protagonists who lost their kingdoms and then have a path of reconquest that it's difficult not to be tempted to follow that path.

Of course, Xie Lian is a god, something greater than a prince or king, but he is a poor god, known as "the joke of the three kingdoms", he has no wealth and for 800 years he only had 1 believer that he didn't even know existed and he is also known as the "god of plague" and "immortal scrap collector", unconventional titles in the literary world lol

He must experience youthful ignorance, overestimation of his own abilities, have been laughable, been foolish, made mistakes, despaired, felt hatred, gone crazy. But he can’t run, and he can’t hide; everything is what it is. All this was killing me. Not just within the text, but outside the text too. My mediation was useless, and I’ve no energy anymore either, so in order not to be affected, I stopped looking at comments altogether. Since I always habitually vaccinate myself before a serialization begins, speculating on all the worst possible scenarios and preparing myself mentally, by the time serialization started I had already expected how all the negative comments would go down. But after much hesitation, I still thought, why not try all different kinds of characters? I haven’t tried writing a main character like this before.

— MXTX

#tgcf #tgcf meta #xie lian #heaven official's blessing #tian guan ci fu #hua cheng #hob #hualian #crown prince of xianle #mo xiang tong xiu #mxtx tgcf #crimson rain sought flower #meta

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joosthead · 3 months

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SMUT PROMPT 2 PLZZZ

just too soft for all of it || j.k. f!reader

₊˚⊹⋆ prompt(s): 2S) crying crying during sex that leads to a pause or early end to comfort and take care of whatever emotions bubbled over & 3F) gently pushing their hair behind their ear to see their face better

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: f!reader, no pronouns, reader gets referred to as his “favourite girl” one time. notfamous!reader lol also does not speak dutch

₊˚⊹⋆ word count: 4.4k

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (fingering, piv), a good amount of negative self thought (i may have gone overboard—feeling inadequate as a partner, reader is very hard on themself and quite sensitive), mentions of anxiety/stress/being overwhelmed, a very fluffy and healthy joost :( aur i love him anyways, pls heed the prompt cuz that in itself is a content warning teehee, 🧀🧀🧀alert i can’t lie!!, a variety of dutch terms of endearment i'm not sure i’m using right but it’s for the sake of no y/n

₊˚⊹⋆ track of the fic: "sweet nothing" by taylor swift

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: i resonate heavy with this 🙃🙃 had the worst last few weeks of this uni year but i’m FREE!!!! thanks for requesting this, i combined this with a few other asks stated above! happy first juno joost fic to meee yippeee

rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it!! you've been warned. please do not repost this on any other platform.

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni.

To say the utter least—it had been a hard few weeks for you.

The whims of life carried you away like a tsunami to your normal routine—work and classes and friends and family and life, life that you couldn’t ignore or get away from like you wanted to do, nothing to do except doing it. And you’d been doing it, just fine for the most part, but one thing led to another, and the last week was a whirlwind of commitments, obligations, your procrastinating on all of them, somehow. You got yourself into a mess of your own making.

It certainly didn’t help that your boyfriend, Joost, was away for his own life: a festival performance in Canada, one in Belgium, one in the Netherlands but not one you could attend easily with all of the work you had for yourself. After that, he worked on the new album in Germany, putting the final touches on his 9th project, filming new content and preparing for his upcoming tour.

He left around the beginning of when your life started getting busier. If you added it up—23 days you hadn’t seen him in person, but it’s not like you were counting (you were counting, and sad the entire time about his absence.). It felt like the same amount of time you hadn’t even seen or talked to him, through the phone, on Facetime, even texting each other.

Voice memos in the bathroom at work, always apologizing for how rushed you had to be; leaving him on delivered for hours as you studied, or had an event you needed to be at, or had a person you needed to talk to, someone else who needed your time more than Joost needed yours, and it was too much. All of it was too much. Too much for you to handle easily, every second taken by someone else.

You felt like a terrible partner, not being able to speak to him as much as you wanted. Seeing all of his messages, the reassurance that he understands how busy you are and that in the end, you'll always make time for each other…his ability to be such a good partner held up next to your perceived inadequacy made you even more stressed.

In the end, it’ll all work out—today, Joost flew back home, though you still had a number of commitments and assignments to get to and couldn’t pick him up from the airport. Your mutual friend picked him up, and you bit your nails at every update given; willing the time to go slower so you could tidy up more, work on that one last piece of paperwork so you wouldn’t have to worry about it, make sure everything is perfect so Joost can have a good welcome back.

In the nick of time, you were able to get everything done, but it still felt as if there was something missing, like you'd be hit with a missed deadline in the midst of your time back together, and it would all come crumbling down.

As you opened the door, right as your friend pulled up to your street, you tried to put it aside, and you did—for now. Late afternoon and you stand at the top of your townhouse steps, watching in nervous excitement as Joost unloads his luggage from the trunk. Your friend closes the trunk and waves at you.

You wave back, but your eyes are on Joost as he gathers the two suitcases and starts rolling them to you in a sort of disorganized frenzy, just as excited as you are; you would come forward and help, but it’s cute to watch him, clumsy and stumbling over his long pants and tote bag and everything—your Joost, finally back with you.

He wears a heavy black jacket, sunglasses, a black cap that he takes off and shakes his hair out of; the sun shines off him, and you can't help but smile at the sight. His hair grew out a little, the darker blonde roots growing in. Those jeans are ones you’ve never seen before, new glasses, new clunky boots that look greatly uncomfortable but perfectly his style. Evidence of the time passed, and for some strange reason, it brings a pang to your chest that you try to ignore as you come down the steps of your house.

“Come here, come here, come here, baby, I missed you,” Joost exclaims, arms open and leaving his bags behind him to come meet you halfway, laughing.

You say as you hug him around his neck, his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t pick—”

“Don’t worry about it, I know you were busy.”

You nod as he moves his arms around your neck and you go around his waist, Joost pecking your cheek several times and making you laugh. “I still feel bad I couldn’t pick you up.”

“Never feel bad, you’d still be the best even if you left me on the side of the road.” You give him and his compliment a weak smile as you pull away.

—

The first time you get a moment to yourself in a month: Joost’s head lays in your lap as you both watch some cartoon on the couch together after eating.

You cleaned most of yesterday and some of today; you cooked most of last night since you knew you had more time, preparing Joost’s favorite meal—it was the best you could reasonably do, considering all of the other obligations you had in these last two days.

As he ate, you pushed around your own food; would’ve made it fresh, could've had a nice table setting for dinner, should’ve prepared more for all of this. You still gave him a sheepish smile as you watched him happily eat the microwaved meal you warmed up for him, no indication at all that he’s disappointed or unhappy like you are with yourself. You shouldn’t feel like this, but you do. It’s getting increasingly difficult to shake.

The colors and lines dance across the TV, spouting raunchy jokes that you can half understand with the few years of Dutch you have under your belt; the air conditioner is on, and you can finally rest. Joost is changed out of his airport outfit and into some shorts and a shirt. He’s home, and you did the best you could do, and now he’s in your arms again.

You don’t even mean to, but you sigh, perhaps louder than usual, because Joost looks up at you from your lap, brushes a lock of your hair out of your eyes, says, “You’re the best, you know?”

It catches you off guard enough that you shake your head almost instinctively, not fast enough to hide…whatever feeling this is you’re feeling. “I don’t feel like it, Joosty.”

“You don’t?” He gets up from your lap, sitting next to you, and brings his face close to yours. “You should, because you are.”

Your noses are brushing, and even in the midst of your racing thoughts, you can't help but smile at him. His face grows into a smile, and you come forward and kiss him, deeply; you know it takes him by surprise, how he takes a little to kiss back, like trying to learn each other again. Nonetheless, he kisses back, holding your face in his hands, grinning into it—he's so pleased, so content, you know it by how sweetly he holds you.

The TV becomes background noise to you, the air conditioner no use with how hot you feel when you move to sit atop him in his lap, one of his hands on the small of your back, the other on your ass as you grind down on him, licking into his mouth.

“You're so tense,” Joost says when you pull away, thumbs rubbing into your back where there are sure to be knots in your muscles.

You roll your eyes. “Can you blame me?” you snicker and he smiles.

“I’ll relieve some tension for you, then.”

Nothing but a few layers of clothes separate you—he smells so good, tastes so good, feels so good that you pull away, run your hands underneath his shirt, feeling his warm body, his stomach. You move to take it off of him, and he’s a step ahead of you, taking it off himself and attaching his lips to yours again, like a magnet.

“You’re not wasting any time,” he says as you rest your hands on his chest and kiss down his stubble covered jaw to his neck, on top of Lola Bunny and back up again.

“I need you, Joost,” you breathe in between kisses, and he pulls back and groans which makes you giggle, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You can't just say that, oh my god,” Joost whines, looking up at you pathetically, pupils blown and lips swollen from yours. “That’s so hot,” he laughs, and it makes you laugh too, how ridiculous he is. “Fuck, I love you.” He comes back in for one more kiss before he shifts so you can lay down on the couch, and he's on top of you, kissing again. He helps you shimmy down your shorts, your underwear, and in no time—his hand is between your legs.

“I would have taken it slow but—I’m too excited,” he breathes. You palm his hard cock through his shorts, coaxing a sigh out of him. Joost hovers above, leaning on one elbow and using the other hand to run his fingers through your slit, wetting them with how aroused you are. Involuntarily, your legs twitch, your breath catches in your mouth, and Joost gives you a soft laugh. “You’re so sensitive, schat.” Fingers still touching you so gently, he noses at your cheek—you’re a hairpin trigger, how reactive you are to him. “Has it been that long?”

Breathless, you nod as he presses his thumb to your clit, petting at it. “Too long, I was waiting for you.”

“I could say the same for you.”

You sit up, pushing up against him, still kissing like you can’t bear to be separated from him, but he pulls back from you—brings two fingers to his mouth, wetting them with his spit, and the sight brings your heart to your stomach with how arousing it is.

Sure, Joost sends videos; yes, you have…homemade…videos of your own between the two of you; his deep voice through the speaker in your late night Facetimes, talking you through it or his incessant compliments when you send him some pictures of your own.

Nothing compares to the real thing—the smell of his cologne on his collar even after he’s taken a shower; his blonde hair in your eyes as he kisses you; holding onto his strong arms as he fingers you, the wet sound music to your ears though normally, it would make you sheepish at how filthy this all is.

Sometimes it makes you laugh that the random guy you met with a Crazy Frog tattoo on his forearm is now your boyfriend, but it feels so serious now more than ever. You realize now how much you’ve missed him, and how much you’ve pushed down that feeling in favor of everything else.

Joost crooks his fingers inside of you and you moan into his mouth, which he smiles at. “You like it?” he asks, both of you knowing the answer. He knows you so well, inside and out. Knows that spot inside of you that renders you unable to speak, how to hit it just right like it’s muscle memory to fuck you with his fingers. He rubs your clit at the same time, using his spit and your wetness to do so, and God—you wish never leaving this spot was an option.

Your climax fast approaches you; Joost kissing at the side of your lips, your chin because you’re too lost in your pleasure to kiss back. With a few more pumps of his fingers, he brings you there, a choked moan tumbling from your mouth as you cum, almost falling into him as he takes you through the last waves of your orgasm. “Thank you,” you breathe, pressing a deep kiss to his lips again now that you have the ability to.

“Thanking me? Nothing to thank me for,” he says, but you shake your head.

“I disagree,” you say quietly, palming over his erection once more now that you’ve gathered yourself. “I have everything to thank you for,” you think, but can’t say out loud. You move so you can be on your knees on the ground in between his legs. It’s been quite a bit, enough so that the program on the TV is completely different now, the AC has turned off—he’s still so hard, still hasn’t been taken care of.

You're about to lower his shorts, take him into your mouth, but Joost takes your hand and says, “Can we skip it? I wanna be inside of you, lieverd.”

Almost a whisper, you reply, “Whatever you want,” nodding, and he cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“You’re so quiet today. Is anything wrong?” He can read you like a book, the furrowing of your brow at his suggestion an easy giveaway.

“Nothing’s the matter,” you lie, but he still looks disbelieving. “I just wanted to give you something back.”

“This is something back and more, baby. Lie down.”

You do, too tired to argue for your side—the side that wants to give Joost everything you have and more, pay him back for the time you’ve been so absent, so distracted from your relationship and all the things Joost had been doing in the time away. It’s not as if you don’t want to lie down and have him fuck you—it’s just that you feel that you haven’t earned it yet.

Your body language gives you away—“Still so tense, lieverd,” he says, squeezing your shoulder as you adjust, legs on either side of his thighs. “You sure you want to do this?”

“Of course I do,” you purr, because of course you do, reaching into his briefs—Joost Klein branded, of course—and pulling his cock out, jerking it a few times and making him groan with the sensation. “You're so sensitive,” you quote him from earlier. “Has it been that long, schat?”

The pet name makes his cock twitch; a month away, hard work on his album and music videos, content and marketing, coming back home to his favourite girl gazing at him starry-eyed with a hand around his dick and ready to take him inside. If you peered into his mind, this is what he’d be thinking. No thoughts match your worried thinking about how you may or may not have let him down—you didn’t. That would be impossible, at least to him.

“Much too long.”

You rest your head on a throw pillow that Joost has laid for you, and he lines himself up with your entrance. Fingertips on his stomach, you stop him for a few seconds from coming forward, and you wrap your hand around his shaft, swiping it through your slit a few times, collecting your wetness and his pre-cum on the head of his cock.

Loudly, he swears in Dutch, and the latter half sounds more like a strangled whisper than any real word. “You…fuck, my god…you are evil,” he laughs, even though he’s now rubbing the head of it against your clit, making you mewl.

“You ready for me?” he asks, and you nod, licking your lips, trying to control your breathing. Your initial apprehension is long gone, though it could creep back every second—who cares? You’re finally together again. “You’re so wet,” Joost breathes as he eases the head of his cock into you. The stretch is something to get used to after so long away, but he gives time for you to adjust—seems like he might need it more than you do, how he sucks a breath in through gritted teeth, the snail’s pace he's going at. “I might cum right now.”

“You promise?” you tease, watching the slow slide of his cock inside of you, watching just like he is.

“I might have to promise with how this is going.”

“You can do it,” you giggle and then moan because he's managed to fit half of his length into you. “I believe in you.”

“Yay,” Joost smiles as he bottoms out in you, then gives you a kiss. “We did it!”

He holds his hand up for a high-five and you laugh—”I’m not high-fiving you while you're inside me.”

“When has that ever stopped you before?”

Rolling your eyes, you give him the high-five he so desperately wants and he beams at you with a toothy grin. “Never, I guess.”

“Never,” Joost repeats, and then straightens up. You look up at him through your eyelashes—his mullet is mussed from the tangles of your fingers through his hair, his chest moving steadily up and down with the exertion of this all. He moves your legs so your left ankle rests on his shoulder, the right wrapped around his hips.

His hand creeps up your shirt, and you do the rest, exposing your tits to him. Joost is normally so clumsy, so heavy-handed—what a contrast that he can be so calm dragging his fingertips around your nipple, making it pebble in the cold.

He cups your cheek after you moan, then runs his tattooed knuckles down it, slips his thumb between your lips and hooks it on your teeth momentarily—you chase it, but he continues down your chest and to your belly until his thumb is finally back on your clit and circling it slowly.

The drag of his cock out of you is wonderful, so wonderful it makes you shudder when he does it, combined with his terribly slow treatment of your clit.

“My baby, did you miss me?” Joost says softly, kissing at your calf, your ankle as he sinks back into you. The sensation robs you of a response, a sigh tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop it, but he takes it as a response enough. The smile on his face—the beauty mark under his lip, those deep dimples so prominent—you could never tire of it. “I missed you more, schatje.”

It feels so good, it feels like heaven being with him again. He comes back from such a busy time in his life, where you’ve done little, and all he has is praise and warmth and affection for you—fingers you within an inch of your life and doesn’t even ask for anything in return, just takes care of you in the way you need most.

You know that he benefits from this just as much as you do—this isn’t so one-sided. But your brain is so frazzled from this last month, the nerve endings fried and in want of a fuck up to cling to like they have been whenever you’ve made a mistake at work, in class, in your relationship.

Joost interrupts your thoughts: “I was so happy to see you on the steps, I could’ve sprinted to you if I wasn’t wearing those damn shoes.”

All of the times that you forgot to reply to Joost, getting a text saying your name and a sad face right after; the times where you were too distracted to give him your full attention and could only hum your acknowledgement to him, having to be reminded about what he said later; that one time just a few days ago you fell asleep on call with him in the middle of him excitedly speaking about a breakthrough with a bridge on the most important song of the album.

The pleasure you felt earlier is now overshadowed by your racing thoughts.

“I wrote a song about you, you know?” Joost says, his voice so gentle. I was only going to let you know when the album came out, but I can’t keep a secret.” Rocking against you, his pelvis rubs against your clit and it makes you cling to his shoulders. “The voice memo I sent you earlier—it was my first draft, just me. Did you like it?”

“You…you wrote a song about me?”

Only now do you remember the voice memo Joost sent you in the morning when you were still cleaning, the one that you saw and made a fleeting mental note to reply to later on, which you promptly forgot as you vacuumed, dusted, folded.

Such misplaced priorities, and now you're paying the sad price.

“Joost,” you say, eyebrows screwing up, that all too familiar pulling feeling behind your nose and eyes—you realize quickly that all of the emotions bottled up inside of you from the past month have come out with vengeance at the new knowledge of Joost’s song about you. The knowledge wouldn’t have been new if you just paid more attention.

You try to hold it back, pushing down the feelings again, but it just won’t work. All of it spilling over at the worst possible time, tears streaming down your face before you even know it. You fail to wipe the wetness from your cheeks—Joost stops his movements, asks in a panicked and concerned voice, “Oh my—are you crying, schat?”

Attempting to pull it together once more, you cover your face with your hands and shake your head silently, but your already sniffly nose sells you out. Your shoulders shake with your crying. Too far gone now.

“I wanted—“ you sniffle, and he hands you a tissue from the side table for you to blow your nose into as he stumbles out and off of you. “I wanted to be with you tonight, but I just—so much—I never—I never listened to your memo, I couldn’t, I had to finish so much before you got here and I couldn’t and I feel so bad, like, you wrote a song about me and I didn’t even have the time to listen—”

“Shh, shh, shh, shh,” Joost coos, brushing your hair out of your eyes as you sob. “Baby, please.” His expression is so concerned, eyebrows furrowed as he pats your back. “Wait, shit,” he says, getting up from the couch and looking down at his still bare bottom half. “Let me put everything back on, I’m sorry schatje, give me—“ In a hurry, he puts his underwear and shorts back on, tripping over himself and almost falling over. “I just can’t do this naked, I’m sorry.”

That brings a laugh out of you and a laugh out of him, and you start explaining as he sits back down next to you, rubbing your arm. “I don’t—I don’t deserve you.” You shake your head, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands. “I should’ve listened to what you sent me, I should’ve been there more.”

“Bro,” he deadpans, beckoning you to come and sit on his lap.

You do, still trying to get the tears out of your eyes as you settle into his arms. “Shut up, don’t call me bro while I’m crying,” you laugh, voice weak but lighthearted.

“Bro. I will do it again.” Joost gives you a second to let it out more, to breathe as he smooths his hands back and forth on your back. “You did everything perfectly, lieverd. Perfectly. We were both so busy, and you still made time to call me and text me. I would have been lost without you, I know for certain.”

You shake your head. “I forgot to reply and pick up your texts so many times, Joost, I felt like such a bad person for doing so.”

“You did? I didn’t notice. All I cared about was that you replied. You’re not a bad person at all,” Joost says, and the sweetness of his words just make you want to cry more. “I appreciate more from you the effort that you put into everything, into what we have. Not what you couldn’t or didn’t do.”

“You’re so nice,” you whisper, sniffling. You can’t think of a better compliment with how overwhelmed you are, so you kiss him, instead, and he kisses back. Even with this, you can tell how gentle Joost is holding your cracked pieces back together.

“I’m nice?” he asks, smiling. “Best compliment I’ve ever gotten.” For a little, you both sit there in the silence together. “How about this—tomorrow, we can have a day to ourselves. You can lounge and study by the pool, and I’ll be your little butler or whoever and we can just relax for a bit, hm? Order food, drink, smoke, whatever.” Pausing, he grins. “We can even listen to the whole album, if you want.”

“You finished it?” you ask, sitting up more and incredulous. That’s complete news to you.

“This morning, right before I flew back here,” Joost says, nodding proudly. “I also texted you, but duty calls, no?”

“You texted me?” He texted you? And you missed it?!?!? Again, the new information makes you cry, and he holds you tight as you do. “You should be mad that I didn’t see it,” you say in between dry heaves into his shoulder. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I could never be mad at you, lieverd, and I’m sorry I made you cry again,” he says, rubbing your back, petting your hair. “I just wanted to let you know when I did it—it was just a timestamp, that doesn’t mean you needed to know right that second.”

“But I wanted to know.”

“You know now, and I know how proud you are of me. That’s enough, that’s even more than what I wanted.” You trust him and his words so fully, every passing second with him is another way to help you feel better. “I love you,” Joost says your name so seriously, a punctuation to his love letter. “I mean it.”

“I love you too.” You kiss him, deeply, moments passing that you use to thank everything you can that he’s so good with your worries, your anxieties. “I’ll take you up on that offer for tomorrow, Joost,” you say, finally calmed down enough. Your eyes are incredibly bleary—you didn’t know that was possible. But at least you aren’t actively crying anymore. “Thank you for everything.”

“Thank you for giving me something more to look forward to, schat. Now—let’s go run a bath together and listen to my song for you.”

#joost klein #joost klein smut #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #joost x you #joost klein x you #joost #joost smut #joost fanfic #joost klein fanfiction #juno's fics #answered prompt #smut prompts #juno’s smut

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joszns · 11 months

Text

miss you ✭

college!ellie x reader

content: sexting, nudes, first sexting experience, vibrator usage (reader), masturbation, pet names (baby, good girl, babe)

summary: ellie misses you a little too much on a late night and decides to text you…

part 2!!!

ellie bit her lip, laying on her bed. a still-lit joint rested in the ash tray next to her, the drug affecting her greatly as she tried to ignore the growing arousal between her legs. she rolled to her side, grabbing her phone and checking the time.

11:30…

reluctantly, she unlocks her phone and hovers her fingertip over your contact. whatever. it’s not weird of her to text her own girlfriend, regardless of the time.

e: hey, u still awake?

she looks at the message, before leaving her phone on the bed and deciding to finish off the joint.

a ping quickly steals her attention, however.

y/n: i am, why? miss u.

she quickly takes one last hit, bursting out into a coughing fit. ellie grabs her phone, typing a reply.

e: nothing, i just miss u babe. what are you doing?

ellie gets back into bed, eyes glued to her phone.

y/n: thinking ab you, silly

she blushes slightly.

e: aw, what about me??

ellie watches you type, then disappear. ugh, was that cringe?? she rolls onto her back, nervously chewing her nail.

y/n: im thinking about ur kisses…

she feels her heart skip a beat. her thighs reflexively clench against eachother, barely relieving the desperate need for touch between them.

e: my kisses? what about them?

ellie pulls the covers over her, feeling a little exposed in her dimly lit room.

y/n: i miss them. i need them

her breath catches slightly, typing a response quickly.

e: yeah? need them where?

she bites her lip nervously, scared at your response.

y/n: want me to show you?

no fucking way.

ellie blushes furiously, her heart beating rocket speed as she stares at your message.

e: show me baby

she hopes her response comes off as cool and collected. you can’t tell tone in text after all, right?

a minute passes, and she starts to get anxious. what if that was too far?

[Y/N ❤️✂️ sent you a snap!]

ellies eyes go wide. nevermind to that. she opens the notification, getting more and more turned on.

the image was absolutely breathtaking.

you were lying on your back, shirt off, neck exposed. your skin was highlighted perfectly by your bedside lamp, jawline in the corner of the image. she could see you were biting your lip, your fingers lightly placed just above ur collarbone.

right here pls?

the text on the image read. ellie took in a deep breath, her free hand slipping beneath the covers and teasing the hem of her shirt.

e: i wish i could my love

id kiss more than just ur neck

she waits for your response, still looking at the photograph. ellie could picture it, feel you whimpering softly as she marked your neck.

y/n: how about….

[Y/N❤️✂️ sent you a snap!]

ellie quickly opened the picture, dipping her fingers below the waistband of her boxers. she was extremely turned on by you, her thighs clenching again at the picture.

you had angled the camera lower, showing your bare chest as your hands covered your nipples, the text reading:

…here? ;P

fuck, ellie thought, starting to rub her clit over her boxers. she stared at the image for a moment, taking in your beautiful tits and trying her best to remember what was behind those fingers of yours. she remembered how your boobs felt up in her face, growing more aroused at the thought.

e: fuck baby you’re so hot

i miss u

i love ur boobs

she shoved her hand beneath the fabric of her boxers, desperately needing more friction.

y/n: they love u too baby

what are you thinking about?

oh god. she can’t answer that honestly. what do I say…she thought, pausing her movements. herr heart pounded in her chest, she was so close to finishing.

e: everything about u. ur so perfect. i miss the way u taste sm

y/n: yeah, you miss my pussy? ur so cute lol

ellie blushed furiously at your message, tossing her phone to the side momentarily before quickly rolling back over to grab it once again.

e: shut up.

she bit her lip, returning to the photos you had sent. she began touching herself again, thinking about your hand in place of her own.

e: what r u doing rn..?

ellie’s finger hovered over the send button nervously.

y/n: typing witg one hand

she rolled her eyes back, imagining you touching yourself, thinking about her. ellie did the same, getting off to those dirty thoughts.

e: proof?

she pressed send, half joking but half wanting to see. im such a perv…

[Y/N❤️✂️sent you a snap!]

ellie blushed, quickly opening the snapchat notification.

this time, it was a video.

it showed your hand, working away at yourself underneath your underwear. you were moaning softly, letting ellies name slip towards the end.

jesus. she let out a whimper. the video looped, and with each replay she got wetter and wetter.

e: goddamn. i need u so bad y/n

need to be all up in your pretty pussy

ellie opened snapchat, recording a video of her getting off as well. she pictured you, your perfect moans in her ear as she fingered you relentlessly.

“fuck….” she groaned.

anxiously, she sent the video, however she was too lost in her own arousal to put much worry or thought into it.

y/n: omfg ellie

i want u to fuck me so bad, your moans make me go insane baby im so wet

ellie let out a moan, rubbing her clit much more intensely now.

e: r u using that vibrator i know u have?

she could picture you, hair messy and tangled as your back arches, whimpering as the vibrator massaged your clit perfectly.

y/n: howd you know?

[New audio message from Y/N❤️✂️]

ellie excitedly played it, nearly orgasming on the spot as she heard your delicious moans.

you were whimpering her name, the faint hum of your vibrator barely heard over your cries of pleasure.

she felt herself get close, playing the audio over and over again until she was on the brink of cumming.

e: gonna cum….fuck your moans are so hot…i wish i was the one causing them

y/n: i wanna see u cum to the thought of me baby

ellies breath sped up as she began to record her touches, rubbing away at her clit and occasionally dipping her fingers inside for more slick.

“oh fuck…y/n…” she moaned, picturing your perfect tits bouncing in her face as you rode her strap. her hips bucked into her hand as she came, whimpering your name over and over again as well as several curses. she sent the video, replaying the audio you had sent as she rode herself through the orgasm.

geez…i haven’t cum that hard in a while…ellie thought, feeling her clit pulse and twitch beneath her fingers as she regained her breath.

[Y/N❤️✂️ sent you a snap!]

ellie quickly opened the video, still touching herself.

this time, you were the one cumming all over your fingers. it was truly a show, your tits bouncing as you moaned her name, the dual vibrator massaging your clit and filling you up simultaneously. you turned the camera and rested it slightly above your collarbones, giving ellie a full view of your tits and thrusting. you whimpered as you turned up the speed, cumming hard on the silicone toy and moaning ellies name into the mic repeatedly.

she almost came again, her arousal quickly growing at the sight of you.

e: hooly fuuckkk baby. i wish i could be with u in person rn. i wanna put my face all in your perfect pussy.

y/n: come over ?? lol

still horny :(( i miss you pretty girl

that was enough for her to decide.

she got up, reading the time as 12:10. whatever, anything for you.

e: on my way baby

im gonna fuck you so good

ur not gonna be able to walk tmr

y/n: can’t wait <3

a/n :3 this is my first ever fic…if u have any suggestions or constructive critics let me know lol i hope u enjoyed!!!

edit: THANK U SM FOR ALL THE LOVE😭😭❤️working hard on another one!!!

#ellie williams smut #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #tlou2 #ellie williams fanfic

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nnight-dances · 1 month

Text

ONE KISS, ONE LOVE

PAIRING: park wonbin x fem!reader

GENRE: fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive dialogue but nothing explicit

TROPES: established relationship!au, idol!wonbin, age gap vibes but no real mention, reader babies wonbin like he deserves to be, texts at the end, just sickening sweet stuff

WATCH: wonbin's night routine

NOTE: inspired by the video above! once again, these wonbin fics write themselves ... he might be my favorite boy to write rn or maybe that's just my way of coping!! anyway don't be surprised if i just start spamming u with the wonbin fics i just have too many good ideas. but they're all gonna be set in this same established relationship style, he's just so bf coded lol... anyway, enjoy <3

you've been in bed for a good twenty, clad in cream pyjamas and skincare intact, when you hear the frontdoor open – signalling your boyfriend, wonbin's arrival. you pause the video you're watching on your phone and sit up to greet him, "bin? welcome home." his heavy footsteps stop where his figure finally comes into your view.

wonbin looks wiped out, no doubt, eyes shadowed by his somnolent lashes. he stares at you for a moment before humming, the sound halfway between a thank god you're here and i could die right now. he peels his layers off with speed, black leather jacket hung up on the tree-shaped rack near your closet and his other outerwear finding its place on the small cabinet next to it.

you watch fondly as even in his fatigue, he patiently makes sure no outside clothes pollute the bed. as soon as he's in nothing but his white tee and boxers though, he jumps onto you, deflating the air out of you like a body pillow.

"hello," he mumbles, face disappearing into your chest where he snuggles closer.

"hi, love," you welcome him warmly, fingers carding through his hair as a force of habit. you breathe against his limp body, letting him unwind on top of you as he often does. it's a silent activity, a night routine of sorts for wonbin on his longest days. he'd trudge home and settle close to you, wordlessly like a cat looking for soothing.

sometimes, you talked to him about your day and he'd hum along, eyes on yours telling all you needed to hear. other times, you would go back to doing whatever you were doing – watching a show, playing a game, or talking to a friend – while he recharged. he even insisted it worked best when you were just doing your own thing.

today, you do neither. setting your phone aside, you occupy yourself with wonbin himself, first meandering through his charcoal hair and then trailing down to his neck, tracing hearts and stars into his skin. you can feel him relaxing under your touch, his face finally coming back into your vision.

"tired," wonbin says, voice coarser than ever. "need to sleep."

"i know, baby," you croon, "wanna wash up first?"

he shakes his head adamantly, "no. sleepy."

you laugh softly, "angel, i'm sure you are but you can't sleep with your makeup on, can you?"

"had a few drinks with taro hyung," he murmurs as if that explains his behavior.

"really? you had time after practice?"

"he snuck it into practice. beer after all that sweating was nice."

"wow, look at you," you muse, hand brushing his bangs out of his eyes, "you sound like an old man."

"i am," wonbin pouts, "let the old man go to sleep."

"sorry, love, i can't do that," you say.

"rude."

"say what you will," you sit up fully, pulling your sluggish boyfriend with you. ignoring his groans, you kiss his nose, "wash up, okay? can't have my rockstar breaking out because he was too lazy to wash his face before bed."

he groans again but this time it's an endearment, his kiss on your cheek disguising his smile. "but i can't move, y/n. please."

"i'll help you," you snake out of the sheets, squatting as you heave wonbin out as well. he stands up unwillingly, head wilting like a sad flower. you laugh, pulling him toward the washroom, "will you listen if i do all the work?"

that gets the job done alright because two minutes later, wonbin's settled against the sink with you between his legs. you crane around his tall limbs to reach for his products, having memorized his night skincare by now.

cleansing balm in hand, you carefully cover every inch of his face, the makeup turning into oil gradually. "okay, babe, now rinse your face for me."

"you said you'd do all the work!" he complains without missing a beat.

you glare at him, "i can't possibly wash your face without making a mess of both of us."

"sounds like an excuse to me."

sulking, he turns around, washing the balm off. next, you go in with his foam cleanser, gently circling his cheeks and forehead. despite all his earlier declarations, he watches you attentively, his hand loosely clasped around your waist to keep you in place. you have to scold him midway at one point when he gets cheeky and sneaks a hand down your pyjamas, feeling the hem of your panties.

eventually, you dry his face off with a hand towel. "there," you peck his cheek, "all clean."

when he doesn't let go of your waist, you raise a brow at him. "you only love me when i'm clean," he scowls, "don't you?"

you narrow your eyes at his tantrum, "i think you're forgetting how i'm sacrificing my screen time before bed to clean you up right now."

he looks unconvinced as he tails you out of the bathroom. he's about to throw himself back onto the bed when you stop him by his hand. "change first," you explain, pulling out fresh pyjamas and throwing them at him.

wonbin stands idly and it's only when he starts raising his arms up that you realize he wants you to do it. you sigh, "bin, you're such a baby today." but you smile as you pull his shirt off, disregarding the way he instantly flexes when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. slipping his pyjamas on, a piece at a time, you clap when he's done.

"i would make a great mother," you pat yourself on the back.

"you can adopt me if you want," he shrugs and you snicker, "i don't think i need to."

"you want anything to eat before you sleep?" you ask as if you hadn't quite literally brushed his teeth. "chocolate," he says without any conviction and you roll your eyes at him, watching as he launches himself at the bed.

"quick, come here," wonbin whines. you pad over to your side of the bed and join him, giggling when his body curls around you instantly. his nose finds its indent against your neck this time, cold and fresh.

for a minute, you think that's all you'll hear out of your boyfriend for the night. but it's just as you're about to reach for your phone when he speaks up again, "sorry if i'm boring."

you're not sure if your ears hear right, "what?"

but his voice is solemn, "...i'm probably kinda boring lately. so i'm sorry."

you turn on your side to face him completely, hand coming to rest against his cheek. "bin, you idiot. you coming home is the best part of my day."

"really? even though i'm too dead to do anything?" he perks up but his eyes gloomy, "we don't even fuck anymore. or go to the movies. or go out at all."

you laugh, "you're making us sound like an old couple on the verge of divorce, baby. you're just busier because of your comeback! i'm so excited and you should be, too."

"i am. but i don't want bore you."

"you don't, though. i'm lucky enough i get to see you at night and take care of you when i can. plus, it's not like you won't have more time after your promotions, right? we can do everything you want then."

wonbin blinks at you, his cool hand finally coming to meet yours where it was still caressing his cheek. he kisses your palm, "thank you. i'm glad."

"of course, love. now, go to sleep or you'll regret it tomorrow," you chirp, rolling over and shutting the lights off quickly.

"...you really would be a great mom," wonbin laughs at your behavior.

"good night, wonbin."

"good night, mom."

you hit his arm at his brazenness but when he just laughs again, the sound is too sweet for you to even pretend to be mad. so instead, you hug him closer, hand on his bicep and his legs tangled with yours.

–

bin: I AM FREE AT LAST

bin: FROM THE SHACKLES OF IT

you: …

you: how would ur fans react if i leaked our texts

you: so much for being mysterious

you: "shackles of it" boy have you ever touched a book

bin: okay so you're rude today

bin: i miss y/n mom version

you: ew?? if u have a kink i dont think this is gonna work

bin: because…?

you: is sungchan still single

bin: i was kidding! haha!

you: ok.

bin: seriously tho let's do smth fun 2nite

you: i get off work late today :(

bin: whatttt you have a life outside of me :0

you: do you WANT me to break up with you???

bin: what i meant was i will be there to pick you up <3

you: wtv man idgaf anymore

bin: noooo

bin: i'll do anything you want don't be mad

you: anything?

bin: well other than leaking our texts ofc

you: i want to live together

bin: ???

bin: we alr do

you: wonbin

you: baby

you: you just always come over to my place

bin: i sleep there it's my home wdym

you: and you still pay the bills for your place?

bin: i don't make that bag for nothing

you: ok so what if we lived together instead

bin: but i really like your place!!

you: i do too

you: let's make it our place

bin: shit

bin: i just actually blushed irl

you: :)

you: is that a yes

bin: i want to marry you

you: okay well let's calm down

bin: did u just reject me

you: i'm telling u that you're gonna regret proposing through text

bin: i love u and i want u to be my wife

bin: omg i just shed a tear at the thought of calling u that

bin: wife…. im changing ur contact name

bin: or should i change it to fiancée? since we havent yet tied the knot

you: park wonbin

you: we are 20 years old

bin: untrue

bin: im 22

you: i am not marrying you right now

bin: … is there someone else

you: i'm not marrying anyone right now

bin: ok so i'm not husband material

you: you are

bin: i'm not father material? you: no comment

you: but we aren't ready babe

you: let's take it slow k?

you: just move in first

you: we have so many memories to make

bin: you're such a flirt

you: ??? u just asked me to marry you but sure

bin: i'll be moved in by the time you come back home

you: i thought you were picking me up

bin: that was before u asked me to move in

bin: now i have to bring all my stuff over

bin: which side of your closet can i use? bin: also thoughts on letting me keep my rock collection next to your figurines?

you: right side and no

bin: wow u didnt even think about it

you: imagine we get into a fight

bin: i refuse to

you: i'm just saying i would be tempted to throw them rocks at u

bin: you would do that????

you: depending on what u do

bin: why are you expecting me to do anything at all????

you: …experience

bin: wow

you: to be loved is to be known

bin: you can't flatter me now

you: i love you

bin: …

bin: i love you too

346 notes · View notes

vanilladove · 4 months

Note

hiii hello vani<3 may i request smt angsty with dazai and reader in which he’s acting neglectful/unfaithful as a partner and you just deal with it? but you don’t hate him or anything you’re just really sad about it hehe tysm ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

☾⋆.ೃ࿔* ghostin

gif creds fybugoustraydogs | divider creds benkeibear

₊ ⊹☁ pairing: dazai x gn!reader

₊ ⊹☁ genre: angst :,)

₊ ⊹☁ content warnings: distant/neglectful relationships; canon mentions of double suicide bc dazai lol...i couldn't bring myself to write a cheating dazai i'm sorry T~T inspired by ghostin + better off by ariana grande!

₊ ⊹☁ word count: 1.9k

You shivered under the cold sheets when your alarm had woken you up. The space next to you was empty, your lover nowhere to be found.

It had been like this for months now, but it was nothing new due to the nature of his job. Dazai always became distant right before handling a new enemy for the Armed Detective Agency. He only disclosed vague details to you, explaining that withdrawing himself was a way to protect you since he didn’t want enemies knowing about you. Before leaving, he’d muttered something about keeping you away from “the demon”.

But you had to admit, the feeling of being 'safe' from a far away, unknown enemy didn't compare to being wrapped in your lover's arms, the soft kisses on your forehead, gently running your hands through his brown fluffy hair, and whispering sweet nothings to eachother. You missed his corny jokes and the nights you two would have together after drinking too much sake, giggling on the floor and watching the stars on your open balcony—Dazai always pointing out the constellations and telling you the stories and lore behind each one.

He had been staying at a secret location far from your shared apartment, so the sheets didn’t smell like his musky, warm cologne anymore. The space felt ghostly now, and hanging out with your friends barely helped. Stirring a sugar cube and cream into your morning coffee, the things they said repeated in your head.

“Just break up with him..."

"You don’t deserve someone who ignores you—especially if he puts work above you…”

"He's definitely cheating on you with all the travel he's always away on..."

Your friends didn’t understand though. They didn’t understand the depth of your relationship or how Dazai loved you. He was a reserved man; he didn't let anyone into his heart, always putting on a flamboyant front to mask his true self. Even becoming his partner and finally moving in with him was a feat in itself and was something he'd hesitantly accepted. You knew he had a traumatic upbringing and that the ones he cared for eventually left his life, often in a tragic way; the last thing his broken heart could take was losing you.

Which was why you put up with the cold sheets in the morning, the single serving meals, and all the sad movie nights alone—because deep down, you knew he cared about you. Your lonely conscious couldn't handle any other explanation.

You tiredly shaped the triangular onigiri filled with snow crab and placed it in the wooden bento box, along with some tamagoyaki and salad, savoring the momentary heat in your hands. It was Dazai's favorite lunch—something you used to pack for him everyday. You forcibly dragged yourself out of bed to make it for him after receiving a text—from an unknown number, of course—that he was stopping by the apartment to grab something. You knew it was futile waking up early; it wouldn't stop him from leaving with no explanation, from not being targeted by the port mafia, the hunting dogs, or "the demon". How silly and lovesick you were.

Closing the lid, you put the dishes in the sink and placed a piece of bread into the toaster, staring intently as you waited for it to finish, which seemed like forever. You took a sip from your mug, cringing when the lukewarm liquid touched your tongue. Shit, your coffee had gone cold. That never happened when he was still there.

The lock clicking snapped you out of your somber thoughts, and you turned your head around to face the self-inviting visitor. Gaze softening, you admired the tall man in front of you, wrapped in a tan trench coat, which you instinctively slipped off from behind him, his tense shoulders relaxing under your fingertips as you draped the coat on a nearby chair. Wordlessly, you both exchanged melancholic glances before Dazai made the first move, stepping forward to close the space between you two. His slender fingers slowly came up to caress your face, the foreign touch making your cheeks heat up. Leaning forward, he closed his eyes and placed a soft kiss on your cold lips, "Hi, bella."

Forcing yourself to open your lids again and not overindulge in the much needed contact, you smiled at your lover, but it didn't quite connect back to your eyes, "Welcome hom—errr—back...You needed something from here, right?" You replied, choosing your words carefully so he couldn't hear your evident desperation.

Dazai blinked carefully, "Yeah, a flash drive. It's in one of the kitchen cabinets. Is it fine if I look around for a bit?" You nodded, looking down at the tiled floor and smiling at nothing. Dazai was always like that, hiding important things in the most impractical places as a precaution. As he fished through the cabinet, he turned his head briefly to look down at the abandoned mug sitting on the counter, "Is that for me?"

You wiped the nostalgic grin off your face, reaching for your coffee, which you'd made in Dazai's usual mug, "A-Ah, no. It's mine, sorry," Dazai raised an eyebrow at you, "I made it earlier this morning, but it's cold now. I'll make you some more." You offered, trying to brush off his suspicions and the strange looks he was giving you.

He sighed, stroking your hair lightly, "It's fine, darling, brew yourself a new cup, and I'll drink this one." He gave you one last reassuring pat before picking up the mug and slipping away into your shared room to look for something else, giving you no time to protest. What seemed like a sweet gesture really had a double meaning: I'm not staying long enough for a new batch of coffee, so I'll just take the cold cup.

A pit formed in your stomach as you dumped out the used coffee filter and reached for a new one. Your vision started to blur, stopping you before you could open the lid of the coffee grounds. Wet drops falling on the back of your hands made you realize you were crying. Instinctively, you brought your hands up to cover your mouth and block any sobs from Dazai, who was still next door in your bedroom.

Stop it.

You tried to coerce yourself, but you couldn't help it. The despair was too agonizing; to have the one you needed most close to you but not being able to tell them to stay, to hold you, especially since you knew how precious you were to him—if you asked, he'd drop everything to stay the night with you. Everyone at the ADA was aware of that, which was why they'd sat you down and conveyed that you couldn't dote too much on Dazai. You understood that and had stayed by his side anyways, knowing that being with him sometimes was better than never. Even if it broke your heart in the process. Even if it meant crying silently in the kitchen while your lover was in the next room, oblivious to the tears wetting your sleeves.

Deep down, you wished he would notice the pain you were in. You wished he would text and call you more or at least take you out to dinner and do special things when he'd finally come back, but he always resumed your daily routines almost like he'd never left. It made your heart ache, feeling like he disregarded his long leaves and their effects on you. You sniffled quietly and quickly wiped your tears away upon hearing rustling from the bedroom doorway signaling that Dazai was almost done grabbing what he needed.

Inhaling deeply, you breathed in and out slowly to calm your frantic heart and turned to the side to face the counter as your partner walked back into the kitchen.

"Found what you were looking for?" You asked, trying to cover your face with your hair and sneakily wipe away any residual tears.

Dazai swiftly passed by you, going towards the chair to slip his trench coat back on and grab the lunch you'd made him. "Yeah, I found it. Thanks for the bento and coffee by the wa—" Your eyes widened as he trailed off mid-sentence, all of a sudden feeling his presence next to you. He bent down to peer over at your face, evidently still swollen and a bit red from crying.

He rotated your body towards him and pushed the stay hairs from your face, intently observing your features. "Bella, have you been crying?" He stroked your cheeks delicately, "And your eyebags are so dark...have you been getting enough sleep?" He looked genuinely worried, peering into your eyes for any sort of insights, but it was too hard to maintain eye contact with him.

"I'm fine...I—" You muttered, words trapped in your throat.

Tell him you miss him. That you don't want him to leave you again.

No, don't! Let him walk out as usual. Your sadness isn't worth letting a countless number of innocent people get harmed or killed.

Thoughts conflicting and wearing your tired soul out, you only mustered a weak smile, placing your cold hands on top of Dazai's. "If I died now, would you still die with me?"

"What?"

"You promised we'd commit a double suicide together. Would you still—" Dazai's arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him, his warmth and comforting scent making tears fall again, not knowing the next time he would be back. You cursed yourself internally for breaking down in front of him, but you couldn't hold your emotions in any longer. He only held you silently, running his hands through your hair as you sobbed into his chest. You felt lightheaded, crying for several minutes, the only condoling things being the scent of Dazai's cologne and the way he held you to remind you he was still with you.

You looked up from his chest, gazing into his chocolate brown eyes, which were swirling with uncertainty. A pained expression was on his face, no doubt from your actions. "I'm sorry, my love. I'm so sorry..." He lifted your face up to kiss your lips gently and kiss away your salty tears before pulling you back into his chest. "I was selfish to think you wouldn't be hurt by me always being away. I tried to turn a blind eye to focus on work, but..." He exhaled shakily, "...somehow I always hurt the people closest to me...even the one I love the most."

Dazai squeezed you tighter in his arms, "I love you, and I know we'll get past this, darling. I don't expect you to forgive me, but please, please don't think of resorting to that." He cradled your face, forcing you to look up at his broken eyes.

This was the power you had over him. Prison, criminals, and even the mafia couldn't break him anymore, but your tears could melt his gaudy, confident facade instantaneously and bring him to his knees. Exactly what everyone warned you about.

You nodded slowly, the last of your cry session being wiped away by Dazai's thumbs. You hugged him back, listening as his rampant heartbeat went back to normal, staring off to the side.

"Listen, bella, I'm going to be gone for a few months. I suspect I'm going to be arrested and sent to a high-security prison...probably somewhere overseas. We won't—we won't be together for a while." You heaved, holding your breath, "But," He turned your head to face him, "I'm going to stay here for a couple of days until then. Is that okay?"

Before you could think, you crashed your lips on his, and Dazai only happily kissed back, smiling, grateful to have cheered up his love again.

"Y-Yeah, that's fine. I love you, Osamu." You sniffled back. He could stay forever if he wanted to, but you'd take a few days.

"I love you, too, bella. I always will, even when I'm not with you. Enough for the both of us."

#vanilladove #vanilladovebsd #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader angst #dazai osamu bsd #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd angst #bsd x reader #bsd x reader angst #yes i added a nana reference and what about it #i added comfort + good ending bc i'm a sad bitch at heart

340 notes · View notes

jobean12-blog · 9 months

Text

A Place Made for Love

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (No-outbreak Joel)

Word Count: 5,081

Summary: You're new to the small town Joel's lived in all his life and just the sight of you has him feeling a certain way so when he learns that you've bought the old bookshop and you're moving into the apartment above, it turns his familiar world upside down.

Author's Note: This one got away from me. I love the idea of Joel just living his life and doing construction and being grumpy and then reader comes along and really gives him a run for his money. Had to include a bookshop for this because along with Joel, it's one of my favorite things. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always!❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics Thank you Daisy! 🥰

PS Bold font means texts and anything italics is like an inner thought lol

Warnings: grumpy Joel, sassy reader, tension, flirting, softness and smiles, fluff and sweetness

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

You trudge down the canned food aisle feeling completely indecisive but hungry and growing more aggravated by the second.

As you round the next corner you’re sifting through the contents of your basket when you walk headfirst into what feels like the wall.

“Ow!” you yelp as you stumble back.

A strong arm wraps around your waist to steady you and you look up, blinking.

“Better watch where you’re goin’ there darlin’.”

Your body tenses at the feel of him pressed against you and you mutter something inaudible under your breath before slipping from his grasp.

“Not even a thank you,” he muses as he turns to follow you.

“Weren’t you going the other way?” you shoot back.

“Just realized I forgot the pasta,” he says, leaning over your shoulder to whisper the words close to your ear.

You force your betraying body to remain calm at his proximity and then ignore the comment.

“What the hell are you gonna make with that mish mosh?” he asks as he peeks into your basket.

“Why do you care?” you counter with a brittle smirk.

He shrugs as the corners of his mouth turn up into a grin.

“Maybe something to poison you with…that would be nice.”

Your sassy remark makes his whole face light up with a smile and it momentarily roots you to the spot.

With one last disgruntled glance you stomp off in the other direction. “Since I’m new here you’d think you’d be a little more neighborly!”

“Fuck,” Joel mutters as he follows you.

“Ok darlin’.”

“Ok what?” you ask as you turn to face him.

“Maybe…” and he paused, studying you. “I could be a bit more friendly.”

He looks back down at your basket.

“You know if you grab some beans and a pepper you’ll be well on your way to making a great chili.”

“Chili,” you repeat.

You look between him and the basket. “That works. Although…”

“You’ve never made it before?”

At his question you fight back a sigh.

“No. I haven’t. But I’m capable of looking up a recipe.”

“Or I could just tell you about some good take-out places.”

You roll your eyes.

“I can manage to cook my own dinner, thanks!”

At the sarcasm in your tone his grin widens before he starts to step around you, his arm brushing yours with the motion.

“Great darlin.’ Just don’t burn the place down or anything. It’s the only bookshop in the neighborhood and we all love it.”

He winks and saunters off.

The urge to turn around and watch him is almost overwhelming but you square your shoulder and keep your chin up. “I can make chili,” you assure yourself.

Joel sits across from Tommy and sips his beer, waiting for his brother to make a dinner choice.

If Tommy notices Joel glancing too many times at the small bookshop across the street, he doesn’t mention it.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Tommy remarks as he drops the menu and leans back. “What’s on your mind?”

Joel grunts before looking across the street again. “Work.”

“This new job we have is a big one. I want it to go perfectly so they hire us for the rest of it.” Joel continues.

Tommy nods in agreement but he’s battling a smile.

“Somethin’ you wanna say brother?” Joel asks.

Tommy grins. “I might have somethin’ to say.”

Joel grinds his teeth and tightens his grip on the beer bottle.

“Heard you had a little exchange with our new bookshop owner at the grocery store this mornin’.”

“Who said?” Joel asks, pinning Tommy with dark eyes.

“No one of importance,” Tommy shrugs. “You’re starin’ a hole through the window.”

Tommy’s eyes glitter. He’s clearly enjoying himself. “Heard she didn’t back down and run off over your…charm.”

“You’re worse than a school girl. Spreadin’ gossip around.”

That makes Tommy laugh and he takes a swig of his drink.

“Still,” Tommy says. “I can’t blame you…she’s real nice to look at and probably a lot of fun when you get her goin’…which you seem to enjoy doin’.”

“Tommy,” Joel warns as his jaw tightens. “Don’t go sniffin’ around any of that and don’t ask me to explain why.”

Tommy dips his head in understanding, his mouth tight in a straight line but his eyes bright with amusement.

“Not a single sniff. You’ve got my word brother…”

Tommy’s head swings around and his attention settles on something happening in the street. “What the hell…?”

Joel jerks his head in the same direction and in matter of seconds he’s out of his chair and charging through the door.

Without thinking he runs toward you and let’s out a breath when he looks you over, the large pot between your fingers and a garbage bag over your shoulder.

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” you breathe, staring at him. “Where the hell did you come from?”

His relief at the fact that you’re unharmed is obvious even as he takes the pot from you and grabs your wrists, turning your hands over to check.

His skin is warm and his fingers are calloused. The sensations cause your mind to go blank and you stand there motionless.

Once he’s satisfied he looks down at the pot and the black contents inside. He’s still holding your wrists.

“I burnt it,” you say quietly. “The whole upstairs apartment smells awful so I thought I’d better get rid of it quick before the shop started to stink.”

“I can take care…” Tommy begins to speak and Joel whips his head around just now realizing he was even standing there and glares so Tommy snaps his mouth shut.

Joel looks back at you and slowly releases you, the loss of his touch something you instantly feel.

Tommy covers a cough and you drag your eyes away from Joel to glance at his younger brother.

“Hey,” Tommy says and extends his hand.

You reach out and shake it to introduce yourself.

“I was saying I could help you out with that but I think my brother here has it under control,” Tommy quips.

“Damn right I do,” Joel says, hands on his hips.

“Thanks Tommy, I appreciate the offer,” you smile.

Tommy tips his head and walks back across the street to the bar.

Joel’s hard eyes turn to you in an assessing way but he remains silent.

“Aren’t you going to make some shitty remark about my cooking skills,” you snip.

His broad shoulders slump and he holds out his hand.

“Here, give me the bag.”

You hand the bag over and watch as he empties what he can of the contents and then stares down at it with pursed lips.

“Might have to…” he starts.

“You can just get rid…” you say at the same time.

He drops the pot into the bag with a laugh.

It catches you off guard and when he meets your eyes again the surprise is evident in your wide-eyed expression.

“No shitty remarks darlin.’ Just glad you’re ok…and you didn’t burn the place down.”

The last part of his comment trails off into quiet mumblings but you still catch it.

“Couldn’t help yourself huh?” you say but you’re fighting back a small smile.

The two of you stand there on the sidewalk for what feels like forever until Joel clears his throat and you look up at him through your lashes.

“Guess your dinner’s ruined,” he states.

“You could say that. I’ll have to go aimlessly walk around the grocery store some more in the hopes of finding food.”

His large hand runs through his already mussed hair before it settles on the back of his head and he shoves his free hand into his jeans pocket.

“Hey uh, listen darlin’…I’m sorry if I was rude earlier…at the store…and the other times before that. It was wrong of me.”

Your expression softens.

“Thank you, I accept.”

Joel hums and flicks his head toward the bar. “I had just ordered dinner before you came running out. Go in and eat it.”

When you stare at him he plays back his words and realizes they came out as a demand.

“If you want to,” he adds. “Join me. For food.”

You smile and slide past him. Your distinct and soft scent wafts up to his nose and he instinctively inhales, his eyes closing briefly before he starts to move to follow you.

He motions to the small table and pulls out your chair, waiting for you to sit before he does the same. His thick fingers wrap around the fork, making it look comically small, before he hands it to you and pushes the plate closer.

You stab a French fry and pop it in your mouth.

“So Tommy…you guys work together?”

“Yeah. Construction. We actually have a big project coming up in the city. Working on one of the new fancy hotel buildings.

“That sounds exciting. I guess it’s not really a 9-5 job then?”

“Nah, not really. Some days we spend doing small, odd jobs around the neighborhood and other times we’ll be on one job for weeks or months.”

You nod. “What do you do in your spare time? Besides follow women around the grocery store and make snarky comment on their food choices.”

“Gonna hold that over my head for long?” he asks.

You look him over and pretend to think about it. “Not sure yet.”

“Fair enough,” he sighs, noticing you stopped eating and nudging your arm with his elbow. “Eat.”

“Are you always this bossy?” you ask as you chew.

His eyes drop to your mouth and the way you lick the salt from your lips.

“Maybe,” he replies, the sides of his mouth twitching with a smile.

“Fair enough,” you tell him, mirroring his earlier words.

The whites of his teeth appear with his lopsided smile

“You plannin’ on trying to cook chili again?”

“Maybe,” you answer, loving the way his eyes crinkle at your repeated and mocking words.

“So now that you know a little more about me why not tell me why you’re here in our little town?”

He settles his forearms on the table and leans in, watching you with intense eyes.

“Well,” you start with a sigh. “I’ve always wanted to run or own a bookshop but my job in the city was keeping me so busy I barely had time to read and of course it’s easier said than done. For a while I didn’t mind…the work that is. Sure I was busy but I figured my life was just what it was supposed to be. Had a nice apartment, steady job, steady boyfriend…until I didn’t. He broke up with me over a text and then refused to answer my calls and explain why. After that, my job became less and less appealing as did living in the city so when his opportunity came up I had to jump on it as scary as all the change is.”

You wait and hold his gaze. “What are you thinking?” you ask.

“I’m thinking a lot of things,” he says quietly before stealing a fry off the plate.

“Like?” you ask.

Like where I can find your ex-boyfriend so I can give him a proper beating.

When he still doesn’t speak you continue talking. “I’m thinking about the renovations I want to make to the bookshop. It’s nothing crazy. Just some minor changes to make it more of a cozy space.”

“That sounds nice,” he answers. “It could use some upgrades.”

“Definitely. And the door to my apartment upstairs doesn’t even lock! I need to get that fixed first.”

Joel’s eyes narrow at your statement. “That’s not safe.”

You smirk and steal the next fry that’s dangling between his fingers as they hover over the plate.

“Maybe I’ll look up some cute contractors online to come help me.”

He sits back, crossing his arms over his chest and spreading his legs wider under the table. Your gaze moves to the way his biceps pop under the tight fabric of his shirt.

“You could. If you wanted the job done poorly.”

“Are you saying you’d be able to do a better job?”

“Damn right darlin.”

Was this still about renovations to the shop?

With that thought still floating around in his brain he watches you stand and pop one last fry into your mouth.

“Thank you for sharing your dinner with me,” you say before rounding the table. “I like it when you’re nice.”

And I even like it when you’re bossy. Maybe too much.

You kept that last thought tucked away and lean down to kiss him on the cheek before lightly brushing your hand over his shoulder and walking out the door.

Tommy drops into the now empty seat, grinning ear to ear.

“How’d that go boss?” he asks.

“Shut it,” Joel growls.

Later that week with the sun just peeking above the horizon you hear a knock at your door. It startles you into alertness and you sit up with a gasp, dropping your book to the bed.

Your feet hit the cool floor and you ask, “who’s there?,” hoping to keep the shakiness from your voice.

“It’s Joel.”

“Oh,” you whisper, now suddenly even more alert but much less jumpy.

Before you open the door you quickly run a hand over your face and scrub away the sleepiness. You turn the knob and have it halfway open before you realize you’re barely dressed, the only thing covering your body is the old tee shirt that hits way above your knees.

You stop and peek through.

“I’m um…I’m not really dressed. I was in bed reading.”

“Shit,” Joel mutters. “Sorry darlin.’ I didn’t even realize the time. I can wait till you’ve put somethin’ on.”

He doesn’t move away from the door and you open it a little wider before slipping away to grab shorts.

“Fuck,” he mutters quietly but not quietly enough and your lips turn up into a triumphant smile.

When you return you open the door invitingly and then notice the toolbox at his feet and meet his eyes.

His cheeks are dusted with pink and not even the scruff lining them can cover it. It’s hard to hide your smug satisfaction but you do your best.

“What’s that for?” you ask.

“I came to change the lock for you,” he explains hoarsely.

“Oh,” you answer, feeling your stomach erupt with nervous energy. “Why?”

“I’m leaving this morning. To go to the city and start on that hotel job. Won’t be back for a few days. I just…”

He kneels down and starts rummaging through the tool box, metal clanging against metal so you can barely hear him when he adds, “wanted to make sure this place was safe and secure.”

Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your old shirt.

“That’s really nice of you.”

“Well.” He stands and starts working on the door. “I saw you hadn’t done it yet and I didn’t want you calling any random guys.”

“Because you can do it better. Right?”

He doesn’t look up from his work and just grunts his acknowledgement.

You take the opportunity to move toward the small kitchen area and start making some coffee.

“Coffee?” you offer.

He looks up at you as you lean against the counter with your bare legs on display. His eyes drag down the length of them before he shakes his head no.

“Already had a cup thanks.”

He finishes the lock and puts his tools away before approaching. His hand moves to his back pocket and he pulls out some folded papers, setting them on the counter.

“I brought some take out menus.”

“It’s probably too early to be insulted.”

“This isn’t me telling you not to cook. These are just in case you don’t want to cook.”

“Ah,” you answer. “I could have just looked this up online.”

“Yeah well I don’t have your number so how would you know the best places to get take out.”

You stare at him from over the rim of your steaming mug.

“Maybe you should take it,” he says abruptly. “My number…in case…”

“I need cooking advice again?”

He makes an affirmative nod and smiles.

“Ok, what’s your number?” you ask as you reach for your phone.

The relief on his face doesn’t go unnoticed by you and he recites the digits as you punch them in.

When you hit dial on his contact his eyebrows draw together as if he’s trying to figure out where the sound is coming from.

“That’s you. Now you’ll have my number too.”

You giggle and the corner of his mouth lifts a little. “Right.”

You set your coffee down and push yourself up onto the countertop.

With one more almost imperceptible sweep of your legs he coughs into his fist and turns toward the door.

“Thanks Joel!” you call after him.

He waves with barely a turn and flies down the steps.

The rest of your day is spent figuring out the renovations for the bookshop space downstairs. You clean, declutter, and really start to map things out in your head. By the time the late afternoon sun is setting you realize you’ve missed lunch and you’re starving.

“I should try chili again,” you say to yourself.

After a quick and much less exciting visit to the grocery store you head back with a bag full of Joel’s recommended ingredients and get to work.

Two hours later you have a large pot of bubbling and unburnt chili on the stove.

Without thinking too much into it you snap a picture of the food and send it to Joel with the caption, “I did it! And it smells amazing!”

Before you even put your phone down his response dings in.

“Wow darlin.’ Looks amazing. Save me some.”

You’re about to reply that you definitely will when another text comes through.

“And I’m hoping you didn’t burn anything down?”

He follows it with a silly smiling emoji and you answer with, “nope! Everything and everyone is intact,” including your own smiley face emoji.

“Perfect. And I meant it. Save me some.”

“Please…” you type and then send another message saying, “so bossy!”

He responds quickly. “Save me some. Please.”

He adds a kissy smiley face and you giggle before sending one back with a thumbs up.

It’s easy to flirt over text. You aren’t overwhelmed by his masculine and sexy presence. By the smell of him. Woodsy and spicy. And his hands aren’t there teasing to touch you.

All you can think of while you enjoy your bowl of chili is how you can’t wait for him to come back this weekend.

When Joel returns from his trip he rushes home to shower and change. It’s already late but he needs to see you and you should have a bowl of chili waiting for him.

When he pulls up to the bookshop and parks his pickup he frowns at the darkened space.

Maybe you’re out? With someone…

Pushing the invasive thoughts aside he gets out and walks to the large windows, peering inside.

Nothing.

The scuffle of feet pulls his attention away and he catches sight of you sitting across the street by the park, your feet dangling along the pavement.

He approaches slowly, making noise so you don’t get scared. You look up and tense but instantly relax at the sight of him.

“Was wonderin’ where you were,” he murmurs.

“You’re back,” you say. “I have chili for you.”

You half smile but your eyes fall.

His chest tightens.

“Darlin’?” he asks before sitting down next to you.

His thigh brushes yours and his arm is close enough that you feel his warmth.

Your sniffle and hug your arms around your body.

Hesitantly he lifts his arm and rests it lightly across your shoulders.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

When you don’t pull away and instead lean into his strength he tugs you closer.

“I tried to start doing some work on the bookshop. I just wanted to take off the old and peeling wall paper but I think I fucked things up. I’m not sure how to fix it and really I have no idea what I’m doing. It’s a mess.”

Your confession softens him and he runs his calloused fingertips along your smooth skin, sneaking them under the sleeve of your shirt.

“I’ll take a look at it. I’m sure we can fix it.”

You were so soft. It took everything in him not to pull you even closer and wrap you in his arms.

“It’s a mess. I’m a mess. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing!”

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t put yourself down. It pisses me off.”

You look up at him and gasp. “You? Pissed off? That’s new.”

The corner of his lips lift and his eyes sparkle. “I deserve that.”

You wipe your nose and give him a smile.

“Maybe. But only a little.”

You lean your head on his shoulder and sigh.

“We’ll sort it out,” he assures you.

You look at him with soft eyes full of gratefulness. His gaze moves lower…to your mouth and his lips part as if to speak but the sound of a loud car horn makes you jump apart.

“How about that chili?” you ask as you start to stand.

“Sounds great darlin’.”

You walk toward the building, tensing at his side the closer you get, knowing he’s going to see the disaster you’ve made.

He stops you with a hand over yours.

“For what it’s worth,” he whispers. “I think you’re really brave for comin’ here to start over.”

The tension slips from your shoulders and you take his hand, giving it a squeeze.

“You did it,” you murmur. “I’m still upset but…I feel better. More hopeful.”

He smiles before you turn to unlock the door and your hyperaware of the feel of his hard body behind you. It takes everything in you not to turn around and throw yourself at him but you manage to get the door open and offer him some chili.

The next day, being Sunday, should be a day of rest but your new-found determination has you up and out of bed bright and early, ready to conquer the wallpaper debacle and then some.

You’re saved from wondering where to start when the front door of the shop opens and in walks Joel with a tray of coffee and a bakery bag.

“Hey there darlin’,” he says. “Thought you’d be up and ready to work.”

“Hey back,” you wave.

He fills the doorway with his body and you try to focus on the smell of fresh coffee and sugar.

“That for me?” you ask and point to the tray in his hand.

“Yeah.”

He crosses the small distance and places the tray down on one of the old tables. You reach for the coffee and open the top, inspecting the contents of the cup.

“You know how I take my coffee?” you ask, raising a brow.

“I pay attention,” is all the answer you get.

You stood dumbfounded for a moment until you remembered that you had made coffee the other morning when he fixed the lock on the door upstairs.

“Thank you.”

Your gaze travels to his and there is some kind of silent communication between you. You can’t believe how much he can convey without actually speaking. Your breathing becomes shallower as he continues to look at you and you know, by the determined set of his jaw and confidence simmering in his gaze that things have really shifted.

When he finally pulls his eyes away you let out an audible breath and take a sip of your coffee.

“What’s happening here?” he asks as he looks over the mess of a wall. “You want to get rid of this?”

He moves closer and toys with the wallpaper.

“Yes and then I want to…”

You start rattling off your ideas in a long run-on rambling sentence without taking a break and when you’re finally done you find him eyeing you with both an amused and thoughtful expression.

“Right,” he said. “Well I know a good place to get lumber and all that so we can shop later but for now let’s get this cleaned up.”

He turns and strides for the exit, passing your trash bag from yesterday that was too heavy for you to lift.

“You want this out for pick up?” he asks.

“Yes, please,” you respond.

With zero effort, he tosses the bag over his shoulder and walks out. When he returns he’s carrying his toolbox.

You peer through the window and see his pickup truck and one trip at a time, he brings more supplies and tools.

Grabbing the back of his sweatshirt he drags it up and off, bringing his tee shirt underneath along with it, and you catch a glimpse of what’s beneath.

“Shit,” you mutter.

Now that he’s only in a tee shirt you can see the deep cut of his triceps and forearm muscles every time he lifts or handles something.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“You alright there darlin’?” he asks when he hears your quiet reflections.

“Huh? Me? Oh yeah, just fine thanks. Um…I want to help so just tell me what to do…you know be bossy. You’re good at that.”

He steps closer with a sideways smirk, his warmth coasting over you, and his gaze falls to your mouth, taking it’s time before finding your eyes again.

“Keep ripping that wallpaper down. I know it looks a mess but you’re doing it right.”

The words themselves hold no sensuality at all but the way he says them, the way he leans in close and whispers them along your ear…it sends a shiver right down your spine.

As the days pass you continue to work and make progress on the shop. Some days it’s just you and Joel and other days Tommy joins you both to help. On the days when Joel has to work he gives you detailed instructions on what to do and how to do it. You’re proud of how much you’ve accomplished together but also on your own.

At the end of the week, with the late afternoon sun already making it’s way toward the horizon, you notice the shop is oddly quiet. No sound of the saw or hammer.

“I have something to show you.”

His low and gravelly voice pulls you from your current task of polishing the small table tops and your nerves fire up.

When you stand and walk closer he looks you over from head to toe. You’re covered in dust and your skin is glowing with a light sheen of sweat.

You look down at yourself then back up at him.

“Is it that bad?” you ask with a halfhearted smile.

“You look beautiful.”

He holds his hand out and you take it, letting him pull you toward the back of the shop.

You step behind the last row of bookshelves and stop short.

“Joel…”

The large bay window is now framed by two brand new floor to ceiling dark shelves. The polished wood gleams in the setting sun and every beautiful accent swirl and grain is highlighted.

“It’s amazing! I just…I love it. Thank you!”

He takes the rag from his back pocket and cleans his hands while he watches you from under the dark strands of hair that have fallen over his forehead.

“Glad you like it darlin’.”

“No. I love it Joel. How can I ever thank you.”

“Have dinner with me…and not here…on the floor of the shop like we do some days. A real date.”

You suck in a small breath and curl your fingers together. “Did you think you needed to build me this to convince me to go on a date with you?”

“No,” he says as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “I was workin’ up the nerve to ask you and this was a good distraction.”

“Oh…” You say the words and your mouth forms a little ‘o’ shape. “I…I mean…of course. I’d love to have dinner with you.”

He looks down at his feet and nods firmly, a smile playing on his lips. “Alright then.”

He starts to gather and pack up his tools. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six.”

You shake your head yes and realize you’re not speaking and as he turns to walk away you move forward while calling his name.

One second he’s holding the tool box and the next it’s on the ground next to him and he’s turning toward you. Your momentum brings you right into his chest and his arm wraps around your lower back.

He waits for you to speak, his eyes wandering over the features of your face before focusing in on your parted lips. His fingers splayed along your lower back dig into your skin and he tugs you closer as he dips his head.

Your palms land flat on his hard chest and slowly dance upward along his broad shoulders.

“Thank you.”

The words are just a whisper but you manage to get them passed your lips and he looks like he’s about to speak but instead covers your mouth with his.

The kiss is worshipful but you can feel his restraint in the tense and flexing muscles of his body and your fingers find purchase at the back of his neck and comb through his hair.

His hand slides up your back and he presses you closer as he lifts the other to cup your jaw. The callouses on the pad of his thumb scrape deliciously across your soft skin and he moans like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted.

When the need for air finally takes over he releases your mouth just long enough to look into your eyes before he dives back in, stealing your breath all over again.

The door to the shop opens, the newly installed bell atop it ringing loud and clear through your kiss filled haze.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Tommy says sheepishly when he appears by the window.

Joel breaks the kiss, his chest heaving with harsh breaths and he stares at your mouth for a few long moments while you cling to him. His hand eventually drops away from your back and his fingers trace along your jaw and then down your neck to pull your ear to his lips.

“Tomorrow night,” he murmurs. “Six.”

@hiddles-rose @lorilane33 @lizette50 @littleseasiren @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal x reader #bookshop

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jogetsobsessed · 8 months

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Always an Angel - Paul Lahote

Ok, I've been obsessed with the lyric “Always an angel, never a god for a few days now. I don't know why all of a sudden but it's been all I can think about. I know there are a bunch of literal interpretations but I look at it as a version of “always the bridesmaid, never the bride”, always the side character, never the main character. So I hope this comes across how I want it to lol.

Also, the timeline is kinda messed up in this, just live in ignorant bliss and ignore it pls, and thank you!

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Always the option, never the priority.

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.

Always the lover, never the loved.

Always the fighter, never the fought for.

Always an angel, never a god.

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

You were used to being sidelined, looked right through.

No matter what you were doing, or who you were with, you were never the main focus.

Growing up boys never spared you a glance, your best friends being the main targets for their glances and flirty remarks. You were never the one asked to dance, always the one asked to hold a friend's purse or bag. If the car was full on the way to get ice cream, you were always the one that was going to be left out. You never learned inside jokes and standing alone at parties, you didn't even know why you went, it's not like anyone would notice if you left anyway.

At night when you would break and confide in the one person you knew truly loved you she would always question why you remained friends with the people that caused you so much pain. And through your blubbering, you would look at her like she was crazy. Explain to your mother that it must have been too long since she was a teenager. Because that's not how it works. Living in a small town the pool of potential friends is small, and having friends that treat you horribly is better than having no friends at all.

You would apologize to her years later, after maturing, and realizing that the remarks you directed towards her were uncalled for. The anger you threw her way was misguided and unfair. She didn't deserve the way that you treated her.

When Bella Swan moved to town you thought everything was going to change. She was from a big city, you didn't know much about Phoenix but you knew they probably didn't harbor the same small-town mindset that Forks did.

She had no clue who you were. She didn't know the unspoken reputation that hung above your head like a storm cloud.

And at first, you were right.

The two of you became friends quickly, Bella taking a liking to your quiet demeanor, such a drastic change from Jessica and her goons.

Your friendship appeared surface-level, to everyone but the two of you. In school, you both kept to yourselves and didn't talk much, even to each other. You would drag her along with you when you gathered the strength to hang out with your old friends. But you didn't do that often, seeing as they saw her as a shiny new toy and didn't treat her as a second-class citizen.

But after school the two of you would talk, your friendship would come alive in the comfort of your own homes, and you two would look like actual teenage girls and not two seventeen-year-olds who should be on the highest dose of Lexapro.

She was the first person that you saw as a true friend, that was until she committed, in your opinion, a cardinal sin.

Bella had gone off the deep end and you hadn't seen her in days. But that was normal, she would spiral, skip school, and then show up as if nothing happened. So you weren't concerned, sent her a few texts checking up on her and getting one-word responses back. Then the following Monday came around. You were waiting by your truck, lazily twirling your hair, eyes glazed over as you dissociated waiting for the bell to ring.

But amid your dissociation, you were pulled back to reality when a shiny black Volvo came to a screeching halt a row over. You knew who drove the expensive car so you tried to be as nonchalant as possible as you peered over your shoulder to get a good look at the owner.

You wished you hadn't.

Because getting out of the passenger seat was the person that you considered your best friend. Your best friend was sitting in the passenger seat of the car of the guy you had a crush on since he arrived at Forks High School.

She knew about your long-standing crush on Edward, she was the only person other than your mother who you had told. It came tumbling off your tongue one late night about a month after she had arrived in town. And you had sworn her to secrecy, begging her to never tell another soul.

But now it seemed to not matter, she had broken your trust and your heart.

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

The next year drug on. With Bella being completely infatuated with Edward you were left to crawl back to your old friends. They accepted you with barely open arms, reluctantly saving you a seat at the lunch table, sometimes sending you the location for Friday night activities.

When the Cullen clan abruptly left Forks Bella did to you exactly what you had done to your friends months earlier. Part of you didn't know why, but you let her back in, although this time keeping her at an arm's length away, never fully trusting her,

Eventually, however, Edward came back. First making his appearance walking hand in hand with Bella in the dreadful hallways of Forks High School after she had disappeared yet again for a few days with not even a courtesy text.

This time seeing them together didn't feel like a hot knife was piercing your skin. How could it, you no longer felt the same that you had for Edward. Because he had proven himself to be just like everyone else. He made you feel invisible.

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

The heat of late spring had arrived and you took in all the warmth that you could as you walked down the small rocky path to the mailbox. Graduation had come and gone and you found yourself in isolation. The people you had forced yourself to be friends with in high school no longer mattered. You didn't have to play the uncertain game of high school politics anymore. Starting university was on the horizon and while you dreaded leaving the comfort of home you were excited, this was going to be your chance to reinvent yourself. You were no longer going to be the person no one cared to look towards.

Pulling out the various envelopes you felt your heart stop beating when the light lilac envelope was pulled to the front. You knew what it was, you didn't even have to open it. But you did, ripping it open, praying that you hadn't torn apart the coveted invitation. Sure enough in bold letters, you read “Edward Anthony Masen Cullen and Isabella Marie Swan request your presence…”.

The phone call with Bella that night was awkward. You haven't talked much since graduation but she assured you that she wanted you to be at the wedding. You had wanted to push and ask her why she was rushing to get married. I mean you along with everyone else knew that they had only known each other for a year and hadn't been dating for the entirety of said year. But she sounded happy, the happiest she had ever seemed. So you didn't say anything, instead prying for details about the impending nuptials.

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

Thousands of flowers cascaded down creating a custom perfume in the air. Your eyes darted between the bunches of wisteria and sweet peas and you were in awe. The wedding had snuck up on you. So much had happened over the summer leaving you feeling unprepared to start school in the fall. Leaving you to make one of the hardest choices that you had ever made, deferring your acceptance into your top school to the following fall quarter.

So when you got a reminder on your phone that read “Bella and Edward wedding tmr” you were at a loss for words. I mean you had everything you physically needed, a dress, a present, the right pair of shoes. But you had forgotten one important thing, a date.

It wasn't going to be the first time you had shown up to an event without one, but it was probably going to feel the most embarrassing.

So here you were, standing next to your group of “friends'' from high school as they gossiped about the possibility of Bella being pregnant. “What do you think?”Erik asked you, giving your arm a soft nudge with his. “I don't know guys '. Jessica of course had a counter, pointing out that out of the group you were the closest with her. Luckily before you had to come up with an excuse of why you didn't know for certain the music began, signaling that it was time for everyone to turn their attention to the altar.

A few tears managed to slip down your cheeks as you watched your sometimes best friend say “I do”. In that moment all the turbulent times the two of you experienced didn't matter. You were just happy to be in the presence of two people who were madly in love and confessing it to each other, permanently sealing their love with a dramatic kiss.

The reception area was decorated equally as beautiful. You were grateful that Bella, or more likely Alice had set you close to the dance floor. That way you could watch people without feeling like a total loser, hanging out in the corner by yourself. At least this way you could still enjoy the happiness of the other guests without feeling the gross amount of body heat from the dancing bodies.

The ice was melting quickly in your lemonade, the night had not been rewarded with a cool late summer breeze so you were appreciative of the cool drink. The night had seemingly been going according to plan. Your ‘friends’ had migrated to another table across the dance floor with the excuse of wanting to talk to some of the other guests, but they had not returned in almost two hours so you were holding your breath.

Mentally you were planning your escape plan, glancing at your watch. Waiting for an acceptable time to leave, not too early into the night but not too late that you were leaving only minutes before the bride and groom's big exit. As you granted yourself yet another glance at the heirloom watch you wore and looked back up a gasp unwillingly left your lips.

The mystery man, who looked almost familiar, chuckled at your surprised look. Confidently he took the empty seat next to yours, turning his body to give you his full attention. “May I help you”, you didn't recognize your own words, your tone was a bit rude and you didn't even give him a second to introduce himself after she sat.

“I’m Paul Lahote”.

Once he gave his name to you your eyes moved up to meet him and the electric shock that you felt in your veins almost felt real. There was no doubt blush forming on every inch of your face and you were praying that the low light of the Edison bulbs did a good job at protecting some of your dignity. You gave him your name, barely squeaking out your last name.

Things like this didn't happen to you. A man that looked like him didn't talk to you. A part of you wondered if Jessica or someone like her had already turned him down, because let's face it, you were always the option but never the priority.

“I think you should share a dance with me, no pretty girl like you should be sitting alone at a wedding”. The flare in your cheeks was visible now, you were sure of it. No matter how low the light was you could have sworn a red glow was emitting from your body, like an accusing halo.

“Paul…you don't have to dance with me, I was just getting ready to leave”. Gathering your belongings as you begin to stand up. “No!”. He said, eyebrows raising to the top of his forehead once he realized how loud he exclaimed. Sheepishly he looked around offering small smiles as an apology to a few of the guests who looked at him like he had three heads.

“Please, I noticed you when I walked in before the ceremony and I haven't been able to shake you from my eyeline all night. I don’t think I can take no for an answer”.

The fact that your heart was still caged behind your chest was an act of god. Because at this point it should have flown away due to how hard it was beating. You were at a loss for words. The thought that someone was putting you first, taking interest in you was unbearable. And you were crumbling at his gaze.

His outstretched hand found yours that you slowly had begun to uncurl from against your body. Swiftly he whisked you out onto the dance floor, pulling your body flush to his.

Clumsily your feat matched his falling into routine with his steps, your body swaying in unison to the light melody. He hummed along softly to the quiet music as he kept a firm grip on you, almost like he was afraid to let you go.

The song ended and awkwardly you looked around not knowing what to do. Paul however looked happy as can be, letting go of your hand but keeping the one on your lower back in place. He led you back to the table where you had spent most of the night, pulling out your chair before you could even react. You thanked him as you sunk into the back of the chair trying to ground yourself.

“Man, I feel like the luckiest guy here at this whole damn wedding I got to dance with the prettiest guest of them all”. He said matter-of-factly triumphantly, taking a sip out of the glass he abandoned when he first approached your table. You scoffed, there was no way he was being for real, the alcohol had to have been getting to him now if he was saying such an untrue statement.

“I think you've had enough”. Your voice was shy and your eyes barely peeked through your almost closed eyelids. The embarrassment you hadn't felt earlier had returned and you were suddenly hyper-conscious of everything happening around you.

“Doll this stuff doesn't make me feel anything, you, however, are making me feel alive for the first time”. His drink was abandoned yet again as he scooted his chair closer, invading your bubble, and causing you to squirm under his gaze yet again.

“Paul, I'm flattered but again I think your choices are impaired. There's no way you feel anything like that for me”.

Paul was out of his chair before you could continue your babbling, cutting you off by capturing your lips in his.

After he pulled back for air his forehead rested against yours, the two of you matching your breathing. You were yet again at a loss for words, kissing the hottest boy at your best friend's wedding was not on this year's bingo card. But as per usual it seems Paul had the perfect thing to say, “My angel forgive me if this is forward, but l you need to let me love you, I have a feeling that you're gonna be stuck with me for a long time”.

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dazed--xx · 8 months

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SKZ Reaction: He Hurts the Reader II (Maknae Line)

A/N: this is for @skz-codeeee lol 😂 im glad I got someone like you in my comments that will keep me on point 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 so thank you ☺️….But Damn it’s been a while since I came back here lol 😂 anyway I apologize for the long wait for this. I promised it a couple days ago but life and kids got in the way for a bit. BUT I hope this makes up for it. Requests are open!!

Masterlist Part 1 Hyung Line

Jisung:

“We’re sorry but the caller you have been trying to reach is not available please—“ you sigh as you press the end button. It had been 2 weeks and no word from Jisung, and while you were mad the first day or two the anger quickly dissipated and dissolve into the longing to fix things. But as things may have it he’s been avoiding you. Your calls go unanswered and your texts ignored. It broke your heart that the result of your previous argument would be this but you couldn’t seem to reach him. Your visits to the dorm have been less than fruitful and you can never find him at his studio. You’d think he’d all but disappeared if it weren’t for Chan, who’d messaged you the start of the second week to make sure you were okay. It was clear he was sent by Jisung to check on you and report back what you said; so with a heavy heart you began telling him about the pain you’ve been feeling whilst being left alone in a country you barely knew and a boyfriend who abandoned you. You explained with tears cascading down your cheeks, how you felt like moving back home to America since you felt like your relationship was over anyway. What you didn’t know was, instead of waiting for a progress report from Chan, Jisung sat watching over his shoulder as his leader messaged you. His heart sank at your confession prompting his legs to act before his body even knew what was happening. He ran.

He ran and ran until it felt like his lungs were going to give out but he continued to speed to your apartment. His fist pounding on the door rapidly, his voice boomed throughout your apartment as he pleaded with you to open the door. You take a heavy breath as you peel yourself off your couch and pull open the door. You stare at Jisung blankly as he takes in your tear-stained cheeks and red eyes. His breath hitches in his throat for a few seconds before he pulls you into his arms. “I’m sorry…d don't leave I'm sorry” he cries. “Please stay here… our relationship isn't over I'm sorry I'm such an ass” his sobbing left him a-quivering mess as he held onto you tightly. “Jisung let me go…” you sigh as you try to pull him off you “At least Come inside it's cold” you growl as you take a small step back allowing him entry. Without releasing you from his hold he sniffles “I couldn’t face you…t-that’s why I—but I never wanted to break up!” he exclaims. Your hands came between you trying to have the conversation face-to-face but Jisung had other plans as his grip grew tighter at your fight. “I’m an asshole, I’m a jerk, and I don’t deserve you. I hurt you then had the nerve to avoid you like you wouldn't want answers” he admits as he cries, you continue to struggle in his hold as you manage to turn away from him. His cheek brushed yours his arms still firmly around your waist “Jisung, if you know all this why are you here?” You argue, as you try to stop your heart from beating out of your chest. “Because I love you…” His words are just above a whisper, his lips brushed against your ear. He pressed himself against you deeper “and I can’t let you go…” you pout as you stare at the ground. “What you did that night was an accident…” you start “But you avoiding me and ignoring me for two weeks? That was deliberate…” your voice cracks “I wanted to fix things and you made me think you moved on—How could I?! How could I move on from you?” He cuts you off, finally releasing his grip on your waist to turn you to face him by your arm. Your face now in his hands “I’m sorry okay I’ll spend everyday making up for what I did but you can’t leave me…” He pouts “You left me!” You snap childishly crossing your arms across your chest “I hurt you!” He exclaimed “it was an accident! I JUST MISSED YOU AND ALL I WANTED WAS TO HEAR FROM YOU AND YOU JUST DISAPPEARED! I love you and you abandoned me!” You cry Jisung takes your face in his hands connecting his eyes with yours “I’d never abandon you. I was taking some space I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, it I hated myself for hurting you and I needed that time.” You nod frustratedly. While you were pissed that he disappeared, this level of communication was the entire basis of your relationship. As much as you hated it, Jisung was communicating and while you felt it was a little later than you had hoped. You could see this as the beginning of a more meaningful relationship between the two of you.

Felix:

“I’m at the point where I want to call the cops and tell them I have a stalker…” You growl as you stare at your ex, who sat in your section of the restaurant you had managed to get a job at. He stared up at you, a look of longing and sadness in his eyes as a pout sat on his lips. “Babe….” He whispers as he takes in your appearance “Can I get you anything else tonight sir?” You question prioritizing professionalism, pretending you didn’t know him. “No..” He stammers, you nod definitively and place an awkward smile on your lips “then I will be back with the check” you state as you turn to make your way back to the register, your movements are halted as you feel your wrist encased. You turn to face the culprit “Sir? Is there anything you need?” You ask professionally, taking deep steadying breaths. “I-I need to talk to you…” His voice cracks as he speaks “P-please…I can wait until you get off..just please talk to me” you finally look him in his eye. His appearance has you in shock, his adorably freckled cheeks stained with ghost trails of tears. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was a mess. He still looked absolutely angelic but you could tell depression had definitely hit him hard. Though you swore youd never speak to him again, he is still someone you love and it pains you to see him so hurt. You give a small sigh of defeat before nodding “I get off at 8, you’ll have 10 minutes and nothing more okay?” He nods almost excitedly, his eyes lit up at your agreement. He gives you a hopeful look as he releases your wrist “I’ll see you then..” he waves you off.

Why oh why did you have to tell him you’d talk to him? Now you were truly regretting your words, the rest of your shift was hectic and you were exhausted. When you exited the restaurant and saw him leaning against a car, hands in his pockets as he stared at the ground. You could tell even from your distance he was nervous, and scared about how this conversation would go. You trudged your way over to the man you had once grown excited to see every night. “Hey…” he calls sadly; taking in your demeanor “Is now still a good time to talk?” He questions as he notices the exhaustion on your face. You nod swiftly “it’s fine. It’s not like this will take too long” you comment offhandedly. Those words truly hit Felix deep in his chest like an arrow. “C-can I bring you home then? I’d rather you be comfortable even if you don’t think this will take long” you stare at him for a moment before agreeing to his proposal, a small satisfied smile forms on Felix’s heart shaped lips. He quickly pulls the passenger door open gesturing for you to take a seat. You pull yourself into the car and stare at your ex crossing over to the drivers side. You notice how much weight he’d lost, his hair still messy as his face looked as if a fresh batch of tears painted his cheeks. The ride back to your place was awkward and silent, you weren’t sure what to do when Felix pulled into your driveway as he’d said nothing the whole way here. You sat in silence for a few minutes waiting for something, anything to be said.

When it had remained silent Felix looking at nothing but his lap you move to exit the car. Pulling on the handle you hear a slight click then the door doesn’t open. You stare back at Felix, his finger pressed firmly on the lock button. You were puzzled, he said he wanted to talk but didn’t say anything and now he doesn’t want you to leave. “W-wait…” He stammers in a panic “Sorry, I just—I don’t know what to say right now.” He confesses as he stares at his lap once again. Running his hand through his hair for what you can assume to be the millionth time “So what did you want to talk about then Felix?” You question stoically. He sighs “I hate how easy this is for you…” his voice cracks as he tries to meet your eyes “I know I royally fucked up—but you didn’t even give me a chance to fix it…” his hand reaches for yours “please…just give me a chance to fix this…” You stare at him quizzically, a look of disbelief on your face before you scoff at his audacity to blame you for his own actions. “I mean do you blame me?” You snap, your anger building in your gut. He stared at you puzzled “Wha—Do you even know what you did? WHY we’re no longer together?” You growl at him, his mouth hung open not knowing what to say. His eyes searching your face for some clue some hint as to why you didn’t want to talk to him anymore. Before he hung his head and shaking it ‘No’ “Of course you don’t you were absolutely fucking blasted.” You scoff shaking your head to yourself. “Does it matter if I remember what I did or not? I just want to fix this” He cries grabbing ahold of your hand. You stare at him sadly “yes Felix it matters, because what you did is unforgivable…” He shakes his head in denial “Don’t say that…” Tears well up in his eyes as his voice cracks and you try to stare anywhere but at him. “Y-you don’t mean that..you can’t, right? You’re just mad at me, right? Please tell me you’re just mad at me and I can fix this—y-yeah I can make things right again. We love each other we could work through this together right? I’m sorry if I hurt you or anything I did. Im sorry for not making time for you. I’m sorry if I got mad and scared you. Im sorry I’m so fucking sorry for all the mistakes I made and if I knew why you’d left me then id probably agree you’re doing the right thing. But I don’t know and I don’t know what to do…. all I remember is waking up one day and seeing all my stuff in the dorm and Chans girlfriend telling me how much an ass I was and that you never wanted to see me again. I tried calling—I tried everything to see you and fix us but you just disappeared on me I’m sorry okay I’m so fucking sorry.” He rambled his tears flowing down his cheeks as he held your hand tightly against his chest “Please tell me you still love me…just give me once chance I won’t ruin it I don’t care what I did in the past because it won’t be like that going forward I’m sorry I’m so sorry please” He cried placing his forehead on your connected hands as he sobbed.

Your heart ached at the sight, you knew Felix wasn’t the type of guy to continuously harass a woman nor was he the kind that would physically hurt you. Which is why you were surprised that night in the first place but seeing him here, with the same amount of guilt and regret he’d have if he’d remembered that night has you wavering. You could hear his gasps for breath as he struggled to keep himself calm. “Lix..I do still love you please calm down..” you soothe. Freeing one of your hands from his grasp, you rub small circles on his back. You hate how much this hurts, he’s the one that hurt you in the first place and here you were feeling guilty because you made this angelic ball of sunshine cry. “Lix please calm down” you plead as you stare at him the sobbing growing harder and harder his body completely trembling. Tears well up in your eyes “Please…I’m gonna cry if you don’t stop crying” you say your voice cracking as a tear strolls down your cheeks. The sound of your sniffles has him looking at you panicked “I’m sorry, I’ll calm down. I’m sorry” he whispers wiping your tears away. You stare at him, you missed him too. You missed the way he’d hold you when you were upset whispering soothing words and kissing your forehead every once in a while. Felix was your safe haven for so long, since your break up you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel the true pain of the whole situation. You’d thrown yourself into work to the point you’d come home and pass out the second you got to your bed so you didn’t have to think about the pain of losing Felix. But now that he sat infront of you all you wished for was to be in his arms once again. “Please just let me fix things…one chance that’s all I ask.” He stares at you with longing in his eyes. Your heart rests as you place a soft kiss on his cheek. “One chance…”

Seungmin:

The sound of the practice room door being slammed open has your manager cutting the music off as you and your group members jump in your positions for your latest choreography. “Hey!” The youngest exclaims. Her eyes growing wide when she notices who came storming in. You stood in shock as you saw Seungmin barreling into the room straight to SooHee, a scowl embedded on his face as SooHee stood up from her place on the couch she was sitting to ‘observe’ the choreography. She looks up at him and away from her phone, a bright smile on her lips “Hey!” She cheers not noticing the glare on his face. Seungmin aggressively snatches her phone from her hands and throws it harshly on the floor. You and your members stood in shock watching the sight as Soohee stares wide eyed at her phone then back at Seungmin. “Dude! What the hell did you do you do that for?!” She growls Seungmin places himself inches from her face “Keep fucking lying on what kind of relationship you and I have and me breaking your phone will be fucking minor” he growls. “And what are you doing sitting down while the rest of your members are practicing?!” Her eyes widen at his sudden scolding “Who risked their neck to fucking get you here?!” SooHee didn’t know what to say she stared at Seungmin bewildered “Y-you..” her voice is just above a whisper. “I wasted my fucking time! You’re an embarrassment! You’re fucking lazy do you think you can just get by using my name?! A NAME I WORKED MY ENTIRE FUCKING CHILDHOOD AND LIFE TO FUCKING BUILD!” You felt bad for the girl, while you do know Seungmin is doing what almost everyone has been telling him to do. You could tell he’s also blaming SooHee for the argument you both had yesterday. “Min…” you start. Your word goes ignored as the two begin arguing back and forth.

The pair are lost in their own world spewing venom at each other. your team not sure exactly what to do in this situation as Seungmin was saying something almost everyone wanted to say but you felt the second hand embarrassment for the girl. “Yah! Kim Seungmin!” You growl.

He whips his head toward you ready to chew off the head of the person who is interrupting his conversation, before he was met with your menacing glare. His anger quickly dissipating and he stares at the ground. “Who do you think you are to come in here and scold MY member?!” You growl. While you didn’t like SooHee, you were this groups leader and you’ll be damned if anyone but you scolded her. His eyes widened, knowing your level of protection toward your members was almost equivalent to his own leaders. “Y-Y/N I’m—no I don’t need to hear your apologies.” You cut him off before turning to Soohee “SooHee practice with Minji actually learn the steps this time. You” you point at Seungmin gesturing for him to follow you out the practice room. “Y/N I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have—Like I said I don’t care. Don’t come in and interrupt my practice sessions. When I told you to talk to your friend I meant outside of my practice hours where she can actually learn something. You came in there and fucking embarrassed her why?” He scratches the back of his neck looking at the ground “Jisung told me the him and Chan helped you guys record last night and that SooHee was giving me a bad name. Even to my own members she was saying she didn’t have to listen because she knew me. Then I just thought about how she kept causing problems for you and how you’d probably never want to see me again because of what I did because of her and I just—I lost it okay?!” He confesses. You stare at the boy a pout on your lips “Minnie I love you why wouldn’t I want to see you again? Tension was high we were both stressed we got into an argument but that’s all…” you confess. He stares at you with a small hopeful pout “Really? But SooHee—Lied? I knew she was lying Seungmin. You’d never cheat on me okay? I know that” you cut him off wrapping your arms around his neck “it’s been only one night and you just lost your mind without me huh?” You chuckle pressing yourself against his frame. His responds by wrapping his arms securely around your waist holding you in his arms as if he’d lose you if he let go. “That’s not funny, I don’t even like thinking for one second that you’re not my girl anymore let alone a full night” he whines. “You have quite the attitude but you’re such a softie” you tease petting his head gently. “Only for you baby. Don’t tell me to leave you alone again okay? I might truly lose my mind” He places soft kisses all over your face. “You’d never have to worry about anything like that, Min. You’re stuck with me” you smile taking his face in your hands pressing a kiss firmly on his lips “By the way, if you wouldn’t have embarrassed SooHee I’d have told you good job…” you smirk.

Jeongin:

“W-what are you doing?”

Your heart sunk when you heard the panicked tone of your ex boyfriends voice. You silently cursed to yourself as you had made sure to come on a day you knew he had practice. Choosing to ignore the boy you continue to make your way through the apartment toward the door with another box of your things. “Y-Y/N..You can’t be serious..I—I—how—please stop!” He cries as he struggles to find something to say. Ever since that night you had been staying at a hotel and for you to be coming to get your things must mean you had found a new permanent place to live and that absolutely scared him. How he wished he had controlled himself even just a little more, then he wouldn’t have fucked up so badly and you wouldn’t be packing up all the you he had left to cling onto. The idea that you would come back is now being ripped away from him and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He rushed into your once shared bedroom seeing two more already filled boxes. He quickly begins pulling it open and unpacking everything as tears streamed down his face. “Jeongin stop what are you doing?” You ask stoically. He stares at you with tears in his eyes “You want time away from me and space?! That’s fine but you’re not leaving me!” He sobs.

You sigh tiredly “yes I a—No you’re not! Please! I know how badly I fucked up! I shouldn’t have said all that shit to you, I-I shouldn’t have hurt you but please I’ve been trying for weeks now to make it up to you. To just see you again, but if I didn’t come home early by chance then I would have come home and you would have been completely gone…? How is that fair!? I want to fix this I want to be with you, I love you and I’m sorry I’m so fucking sorry. I’m pathetic and insecure and disgusting for what I did. You were right to slap me I don’t blame you for it I’m a piece of shit and I deserve this okay? I know I deserve this but I don’t want it! I want to fight for you—I want you to know how much I love you and I would never do it again.” He cut you off as he began to rant. His tone is panicked and fear laced through it. He continued to pull your stuff out of the boxes. Your heart ached for the breaking boy in front of you. You slowly grab the other box and go to make your way to the door in Jeongin’s movements. Your halted as the box is ripped from your arms “No! You can’t!” He exclaims as he drops to his knees wrapping his arms around your waist. “Please…don’t leave” his breathing is growing heavier and heavier. You could tell he was on the the verge of a panic attack. Tears cascaded down his cheeks as he stared at you with wide pleading eyes.

“Jeongin..”

“Please, I’m sorry I’d never do anything like that again. You know me..you know that I’m not like that” he begs. “I thought that I knew you once but I don’t—don’t say that. You don’t mean that please tell me you don’t mean that..” he cut you off. His tone was heartbreaking, he sounded so unsure; about what to do, where to turn, how to fix this. He couldn’t figure out how to keep you with him. He wanted you to stay he’d chain himself to you if that’s what it took at this point. Anything to keep you from walking out that door and not coming back. “Yang Jeongin! This needs to st—I love you!” He cuts you off hesitantly “I love you so much and I’m so sorry but I can’t let you go. I need you to give me another chance even if it’s to talk. So I’m sorry, I love you and I won’t let you go. I’ll give anything to keep you with me so if you want to leave you’re going to have to kill me before I let you go” he state’s definitively. “You sound fucking crazy” you scoff crossing your arms over your chest. “You not being here with me drives me crazy” he states matter of factly. You roll your eyes at the boy. He damn sure was persistent. You could remember how terrified of him you were just a few weeks ago, but to see the same man ugly crying so disparagingly in the ground it made your heart waver. The eyes that once shot daggers at you are now pleading for you to connect with them. The lips that spewed venom in your direction were now begging for you to never leave and his hands that once gripped your hair and chin so harshly were gently caressing your waist holding you against him as he sobbed. You weren’t sure what you wanted to do, you weren’t sure where you could turn for answers.

You stare down at the fox like man, he pouted up at you. You could feel the tension around the room building. You placed your hands on his shoulders, taking a deep breath. Your breath feels shaky and your throat felt as if it was closing in on its self

“Please..” Jeongin whispers

Taglist: @yangbbokari @justjxnniie @imjustme-things @slayhyunjin @aurora1115 @lolareadsimagines @conwunder @myexolady

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striveattemptfail · 1 year

Text

in prime earth canon, jason todd (NOT red hood) was* publicly known to be alive

red hood: outlaw (2018) #32 (ID in alt text)

considering that jason todd was the official owner of the iceberg lounge during this time, it's likely he acquired the lounge legally and thus can be inferred that he had to be declared legally alive to do so

which brings me to my point:

i've seen a lot of people writing/speculating the difficulties and limitations jason experiences bc he was declared legally dead after ethiopia, which is all well and good, and is fantastic fodder for angst

but i've been wondering if this was bc people are actively ignoring canon (valid) or simply didn't know that at one point* jason was publicly alive (also valid, bc following comics is a shitshow lol)

please reblog to increase visibility! the whole point of this poll is to gauge how many people know this, so i'd love to see this post reach as many people as possible. thank you~! 😅🙏

(* big disclaimer under the cut!)

note: all of this info is as of may 2023. i am only one human so it's impossible for me to read every comic jason has been in since rhato (2016) and remember every single thing that happened. if anything i said above the cut is incorrect now, i apologize! /o\

for reference, as of creating this poll i've read:

red hood and the outlaws (2016) #1-26

red hood: outlaw (2018) #27-52

task force z (2021) #1-12

batman: urban legends (2021) #1-6 – cheer pt.1-6

the joker: the man who stopped laughing (2022) #3-5

i haven't read a lot of other important runs like death metal (2020), three jokers (2020), robins (2021), etc. if jason (NOT red hood) was declared dead once again in any of those, that is the reason why i used "was" in the very first sentence of this post and reiterate that he was alive at least for a limited period

my bad that i missed his second legal death tho LOLLL

i'm also aware that red hood (NOT jason) was known as "dead" by others after task force z (even though he clearly didn't die). that said, in the little i've read of tj:tmwsl, it seems that 1) not everyone knows red hood is actually alive, and/or that 2) red hood died at all. again, if red hood is generally known to be alive after tfz, that's on me

if there's anything else i've missed, let me know!! i'll update/reblog this post for as long as the poll is up (-u-)b

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msnameless · 3 months

Note

I dont know if u write dubcon but can you PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE write a reader who’s self esteem is so low that she decides to break up with gojo only for gojo to aggressively ruin her insides + body worship hehe

I'm not sure if I captured the vibe but i tried lol.

feel free to send asks as alw

❍ ࣪⁎⁺Insecurity⁎⁺˳ .

Gojo Satoru x Reader

You try to break up with Gojo Satoru due to your insecurity but he's having none of that.

(1.5k words, oneshot)

"I can't do this anymore."

"Do what anymore, sweetheart?" Gojo cocked his head and grinned at you mischievously.

"Us, I don't...I just can't. I'm sorry," you stood up and began leaving much to Gojo's alarm.

"Woah woah, hold your horses, little missy," your wrist was tugged back by your boyfriend-turned-ex. Gojo was upon you in a flash.

"Where do you think you're running off to?"

A pair of electric blue eyes burned into yourself as Gojo peered at you intensely. His gaze scanned over you as if trying to uncover a conceivable reason why you'd want to end the relationship. You felt your hairs prick up and shoved him away, mortified.

The silence that hung between the both of you stretched into forever, though in reality, it lasted for merely 3 seconds. Gojo looked astounded, all traces of playfulness now gone.

"What do you mean?" he asked concerned.

"Look, if this is about your leftovers that I-"

"Gojo, please just leave me alone," you begged earnestly, hoping your voice wouldn't break and lead to a meltdown.

You wanted to leave before it could happen, stumbling out the door, heading straight home.

The truth was you had always noticed the sheer gap between you and Gojo in all aspects possible, whether it be in terms of physical attractiveness or power. Everyone knew Gojo Satoru, the most powerful Jujutsu sorcerer in the world, the only one to have been born with the Six-Eyes and limitless technique in the last 400 years. He drew eyes whenever he walked into a room, that confident stride promising an easygoingness that came from knowing you would always be far above everyone else.

You knew what people must've thought when they saw you as his girlfriend. You were a mere wallflower, not even deserving of a second glance. You hated it whenever people stared at you for a second longer than you thought necessary, imagined their withering judgement as they took you in with disdain. You felt your clothes tighten, and every flaw on your body became more noticeable than ever.

You compared yourself with just about anyone. Gojo was surrounded by plenty of attractive people such as Shoko Ieiri, and you felt like an ugly duckling amongst them. But you had to hide it. After all, you were Gojo Satoru's girlfriend.

Thus, you began trying to change yourself in a desperate hope that you'd be happier with yourself, going on diets, and working out rigorously.

Nothing ever lasted. You would always go back to your normal self. Disgusting self, was what you thought. The mirror was a dreadful reminder of what you were when you glanced into it every day, and soon that got covered up, too, like your body. All the while, you acted your usual on the outside, keeping up the mask that served to hide your self-loathing.

Things escalated when you feared physical contact with Gojo, thinking that whenever he hugged you from behind, all your rolls of fat could be felt. The insecurity became so crippling that you were utterly miserable until you finally decided to end your relationship with him.

For the next 2 days, you kept to yourself at home, ignoring the incessant texts from Gojo before you blocked him. You thought things were finally over until your door got broken down, blasted open on its hinges by Gojo.

"Oops, didn't mean to be so rough," he shrugged as he strode in.

"Now then. Enough is enough."

The next second, you were lifted up and set in front of Gojo.

"What's your problem, lady? You thought you could just break up with me without a reasonable explanation?" he scoffed.

"Tell me why or I'm not leaving," he demanded.

You tried to speak, but a lump in your throat left you mute. How would you begin to explain the inferiority you felt compared to him? Gojo waited for you patiently, but your voice had vanished.

"If this is about thinking you're not good enough, you'd better stop now," Gojo warned.

He snickered at your questioning look.

"I'm more observant than people give me credit for. Did you think I wouldn't see the way you shy away from my hugs?" he pouted before sighing dramatically.

"This is an emergency, I can't have my sweetheart hating herself, now can I?" he mumbled, hand holding his chin in thought.

"Got it! I guess I'll just have to drill it into you then," he smirked, eyes darkening as he pressed feather kisses from your forehead to your eyes, cheeks, lips, neck, making his way down slowly. Compared to his kisses, his rough hands caressed your body urgently, kneading and stroking all the places where you used to allow him to do so before growing insecure.

"I love you here, here, here..." he whispered sensually, starting to life your shirt over your head but you stopped him, afraid of being bared.

"Don't-"

Gojo silenced you with a kiss, biting harshly on your lips.

"Uh-uh, let me work my magic and make you feel real good, kay?" Gojo grinned maniacally.

You didn't dare to speak under his feral gaze and he took it as a sign to continue.

The air hummed with electricity. You felt your body flush as the room turned stuffy, becoming indescribably hot. Gojo's touches burned your skin and you could feel a raw desire pooling in your stomach as his fingers danced all over the curves and dips of your body.

You were helpless under Gojo's ministrations and soon laid under him in all your glory.

It had been too long for Gojo since he was allowed to admire you. After all, you had distanced yourself from him and it was now time to make up for what he missed out on. Gojo paused his teasing and looked down at you before opening his mouth.

"Buckle up, sweetheart."

All you remembered of the next few hours was pure bliss as well as you and Gojo chanting each other's names like a mantra. He slammed into you over and over again, never faltering, all while whispering sweet nothings into your hair. Your body was stretched to its limits and the sensations made you see stars in your vision. It was too much yet never enough at the same time.

His long and slender fingers constantly prodded in and out of you, swiping and circling where he knew it felt irresistible. Impossibly quick, tantalizingly slow; over and over again in a vicious cycle, to the point where it had you begging for his sadistic torture to end, granting you release. Gojo knew your body better than yourself, and could rely on his deft fingers alone to strip you of your defenses.

Gojo worked himself to the bone, playing you like an instrument expertly as you tried but failed to stifle noises that would make a sailor blush.

You almost came multiple times, just for Gojo to stop after driving you to the edge and pulling you back again. He frowned at you in mock disappointment.

"I don't like it when you cover yourself," he taunted derisively. From then on, Gojo made sure your mouth was free to make any noise he wanted you to, unless of course he chose to fill it up himself personally.

The taste of salt and passion permeated your senses, prompting you to understand exactly what it meant to be claimed by Gojo.

Ruffling your hair, Gojo kept praising you, coaxing climaxes out from your body time after time. It was almost too much and you trembled from the insistent stimulation.

"Just like that, one more time? You're doing so well," he cooed. Even if you couldn't, you had to. Gojo never halted his actions to let you catch your breath. In and out, in and out, Gojo moved at a speed that was more beast than man. You howled his name, unsure if you were pleading for him to cease and desist or continue.

As the moon shone and sparkled in its obsidian tapestry that was the peaceful night, you and Gojo danced the devil's tango, with Gojo leading. Bodies colliding, breaths mixing, hands entangling, your eyes never dared to leave Gojo's as he demonstrated personally his affections towards you.

He had you enchanted with the way he looked, groaning at the sight of you and kissing anywhere he could on your body. Saliva and sweat pooled together, glimmering on your skins.

Gojo's eyes sparkled brighter than the stars as he stared down at your body ardently, raking over everything. Bodies still connected, he clasped your hand and linked your fingers together, bringing them to his mouth. His eyes never leaving yours, Gojo kissed every single one of your knuckles.

"You're so pretty, y'know that?" he sighed.

"I never want to stop loving your body."

The next morning, your body was littered with black and purple marks, a reminder of what went down the night before. You stumbled getting out from bed and was caught in Gojo's embrace. He chuckled amusedly, hair tousled from slumber.

"Woah there, looks like someone had too much fun last night. Your legs still working or nah?" he teased.

You shrieked and whacked him in response.

"Seriously, I love you just the way you are. You're gorgeous in my eyes and that's all that matters," Gojo mumbled, head lying above yours.

Gojo's voice then took on a more lethal edge.

"Or do we have to start this ritual of worshipping you every night?"

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk oneshot #jjk x reader #msnameless

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ppushable · 2 months

Text

two ibuprofen

jean kirschtein x gn!reader / oneshot / wc: 7.3k

part 1 of rose tinted hours

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Sunday morning. What's the best way to spend a Sunday morning?

Craned over the plaguefest of the guy I'm dating-not-dating, trying to shove two ibuprofen down his throat?

(It works the second time.)

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ao3 tags:

ok here we go / Alternate Universe - College/University / Sickfic / Sick Character / Fluff / Kissing / Alternate Universe - Modern Setting / Texting / Vomiting / Not at the same time / Winter / gender neutral reader / i dont know how to make tea / mentions of sanrio / mentions of bagged milk / slight angst? i guess? if you squint? / reiner texts like a boomer and im sorry / POV First Person / Present Tense

i live in a special part of canada so excuse the bagged milk. (just kidding bagged is better)

reader is gn! if anything seems off please lmk. (do that if the text names are confusing too!)

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Bzzz.

The darkness and warm comfort of sleep cracks as my eyes peel open to the vibration of my phone. My blurry wall is bathed in orange light and the cold draft coming in from the open window carries the swoons and trills of birdsong. Pretty…

Holy shit I have class I’ll be late—

With effort, I blink until the shapes around me become clean and defined. Am I late? Sunlight on the ruffles of my quilt like a Renaissance painting. Coats and bags hanging from the hooks on the back of my bedroom door. Clothes from the night before, still on the ground from when I dropped them there, dead-tired. My phone buzzes again, causing an internal jolt that spurs me to snatch it off the nightstand and expel the charger in one swift movement.

mr. handsome: emergency alert! 🚨 alert! god-level threat!

mr. handsome: One image attachment

Oh, it’s a message from Connie.

Oh, it’s 8:19 AM.

Oh, it’s a Sunday.

The glowing numbers on the screen indicate the next minute and I toss the phone somewhere on the bed before re-curling myself into my nice warm quilt in this nice cool morning. Sorry, Connie, the grocery run to 7-11 for more sushi will have to be done by someone else. This is probably the happiest I’ll be all day, provided I stay sleepy enough not to feel guilty for doing nothing. The world goes black.

Bzzz.

This time, my eyes peel open on their own.

Fine, Connie, you win.

Trying to ignore the bitter taste of morning in my mouth, I grope for my phone and lift it above my head.

sashacado: BAHAHAH GOOD LUCK WITH THAT ONE BALDY

Another message pops up.

mr. handsome (replying to @/sashacado): 🖕

mikachu: you need to get out of there, connie. like rn.

lainah: Run while you still can! LOL! 🤣

Although the last text pains me on a metaphysical scale, I open up the groupchat. It’s getting fishy now: first of all, Connie’s never up this early, least of all on a weekend; secondly, he said ‘god level threat’ (which is apparently the worst level of threat), and third, Mikasa rarely speaks in the groupchat. Sure, she lurks, but she only ever emerges when something big is happening.

Some more people are active now and I have to scroll up to find Connie’s image.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Blurry and off-centre as the picture might be, it clearly depicts the ugliest green-and-white striped couch I ever laid my eyes on (“It’s an antique!” Connie had argued) that belongs to Connie and Jean’s shared dorm in which the latter of the two is curled up in (yet he still scrapes the armrests with the top of his head and toes). Littering the stained carpet around him — they prefer eating on the couch than on an actual table, so spills are inevitable — are wads of crumpled-up tissues. To really top it off is the Cars blanket that Jean won at a festival that’s seemingly in the process of being violently torn from his form, clinging to the armrest closest to the camera and pulling beyond. A message banner pops down from the top of the screen.

jean: i’m fine. and give me my fucking blanket back. i can hear you giggling from your bedroom. connie.

grammar police: connie give his blanket back

lainah: Haha!

grammar police: i swear things like this only happen when I’m gone

Right, Marco usually goes home for the weekends.

ymi: Lmfao that thing prolly gave you a disease in the first place

ymi: Have u even washed it once

mr. handsome: cut the ccrap Ymir we wash it more than you wash ur hair

sashacado: LMAOOO

ymi: At least I have hair

sashacado: AGAHAHH CONNIE

grammar police: you guys

grammar police: missing the point here

mr. handsome (replying to @/ymi): and its sad cuz mine is still better than youres

mr. handsome: like girl tf is up with the shaved sides

mr handsome: jojo siwa looking ass

sashacado: LMAOOOOO CONNIE EAT HER UP

Smiling, I return to the main chat screen.

ymi: Count your fucking days springer

ymi: At least I still have a girl

grammar police (replying to @/mr. handsome): ^yours

mr. handsome: ok nerd

grammar police: I’m taking away your Netflix

mr. handsome: I sincerely apoligize for my words.

grammar police: it’s the effort I guess

grammar police: back to Jean though

jean: i told u im prrfectly fine. just give ne back my blanket i’ll sleep it off

grammar police: do I need to come back to campus for the weekend?

mikachu: im stopping by the store. can grab some medicine

jean: ffs IM FINE GIVE ME MY BLANKET CONNIE OR IM TELLING THEM ABOUT THE GRATER THING

grammar police: Jean you need some medicine at least. I heard there’s a nasty flu going around and you’d be the type of person to catch it

grammar police: did you call your mom? I can call her if you want

jean: IM

jean: FINE

jean (replying to @/grammar police): DO NOT DO THAT

Poor Jean. He doesn’t have anyone to take care of him. Connie’s a mild germaphobe, believe it or not, at least when it comes to sickness (he nearly went crazy during Covid) and is probably keeping a safe distance from his roommate. And it’s not like any of his other friends are willing (or able) to help out, with Marco out of town. He doesn’t have any siblings here; the closest relative he has might be his mother all the way back in Trost. Not even a significant other.

Well. I mean.

There’s me.

But we’re technically not dating. Not yet. We’re still trying to figure things out — hell, I don’t even know if he likes me back.

Well, okay, there was that time we kissed. But it’s just a kiss. And it was an end-of the year party, and everyone was feeling it. And it’s January now and we haven’t done it again so it’s nothing. It’s nothing!

But that doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at my foundations like a tiny, evil beaver.

Wow. So you’re willing to let a guy suffer just because you’re unsure? Now that’s selfish. While you’re sitting here muttering to yourself he’s probably burning with fever and wishing he were dead. Real classy.

Shut the fuck up, beaver. It’s weird to just barge into someone’s house like that. And we don’t know each other that well.

You’ve known each other for a long time. He’s sick. At least take care of him. You don’t need to be his lover or whatever. Just be a good friend, huh?

I guess…

And you know Connie, too, don’t you? You’ll be doing him a big favour by getting this plaguefest out of his living room. He needs to finish off Breaking Bad so he can look at the memes without being spoiled. You’re not helping dear old Connie out, either.

Fuck, you do have a point.

Besides, everyone knows what happened between you and Jean at the Christmas party. They’re probably waiting on you to—

With great effort I manage to unfocus my eyes to see if anyone mentioned me but Connie and Jean have devolved into another stupid somewhat one-sided argument. So they aren’t saying anything outright. But they’re probably thinking it.

They’re definitely thinking it.

Okay, that’s enough from you.

I swipe off the groupchat to see all of my chats and open up my DM with Jean — right near the top — and start typing.

me: hey. sorry if this is weird, but i wanted to check on you bc ur really sick apparently

No, that won’t do. I purge the message.

me: hey fuckass. did you go out without a coat again? do i need to come and take care of

No, not that, either. Hopefully he isn’t looking at our messages or else he’d see me typing like an idiot. I tap the side of my phone as I think, stringing together ideas and words and different ways he could perceive me based on how I put them together.

I go back to the main groupchat.

me: @/jean @/mr. handsome im coming over. be there in 15

me: also @/mikachu could you pick up some lozenges and cough syrup? ty i’ll pay u back <3

I zone out at the screen until someone starts typing and throw the phone down on the bed again before scanning the ground for something wearable. Goodbye, sweet air and Renaissance scene and birdsong. After assembling myself and brushing my teeth, I check the mirror attached to the back of the shared bathroom door that Sasha decorated with some Sanrio stickers from Amazon. She had a phase.

Matching socks, jeans, campus sweatshirt, T-shirt underneath big enough to splay out underneath like a fan. Hair a mess. Face a mess. Good enough. It’s not like Jean will look much better. It’s not like I care that much about how I look around him.

I pull the door aside and collect my belongings — phone, bag, coat — before whisking through the door, full sail for Connie’s res building. I hit the stairwell running.

Do I know how to take care of sick people? I mean, more or less. It’ll be fine. All you have to do is feed them and make sure they don’t puke all over themselves. Right?

On the way I stop by one of the cafeteria atriums, one of the smaller ones I frequent for its souped-up coffee counter with every additive known to man. I scan the containers on the counter — milk, cream, nutmeg — until I find the packets of honey and shove one into my bag while trying not to look guilty to the few people that dot the room. I more than paid for it just by attending.

Now on the main floor by the parking lot, I struggle to untangle my keys from the mess in my bag and, without looking, push the unlock for my car. It beeps faithfully in the same place I left it and I hurry to the sound like a moth to flame.

It’s a smallish car that’s starting to rust near the top. I open the drivers’ door and toss my bag in the passenger seat before throwing myself in and shutting the door, shutting out the world, disturbing the rubber Kuromi keychain hanging from the rearview mirror. My breath comes out steamy. The car comes to life on the third try — best to let it warm up a bit before I go.

Inhale, exhale. I open up the groupchat.

jean: you will do no such thing

jean: @/me

mr. handsome: so THATS what it takes for u to finally visit

mr. handsome: ive been keeping it nice and clean just for u 😙

mr. handsome: until mr covid came and ruined it

mikachu (replying to @/me): dw about it babes xx

sashacado: mika get me chocolate

mikachu: maybe. driving

Mikasa and I, weirdly enough, were the first to get our full licenses. A smile pulls at my face and I duck down to look at my lap. Jean had nearly begged us to give him driving lessons, and of course, I agreed. Days of close calls, driving under the speed limit, getting honked at, constantly checking the mirrors, nearly rear-ending people at stop signs, elbows touching on the armrest…

Of course, now Jean can drive without a hitch. Maybe not good enough yet that I’d sleep while he does it, but that’s a personal thing.

I almost put my phone down before noticing I have a few more private messages.

jean: seriously you dont have to come. im fine

jean: its acc not a big deal

jean: i had colds like this before. im not ur responsibility

Something about that last line stings. I guess he’s right, technically. We’re not that close. Who am I kidding?

But I already announced to the world what I’m going to do. And I already decided on it.

me: im coming whether you like it or not. watch connie for me

When I can’t see my breath anymore I start driving.

Stohess is a big campus. And while I’m not a huge fan of carbon emissions, I’m also not a fan of 20-minute walks in blistering, dry cold (or wet cold, for that matter). Also, I don’t want to keep Jean waiting. The eco society is going to kill me.

I pull in to the all-too-familiar parking spot, the one Jean pulled into a hundred times in preparation for his driving test in his new, expensive car his parents bought him because “he was doing so good with his driving!”

He’d thanked me profusely for helping him out, which, in hindsight, was mildly out of character for a broody, arrogant guy like him.

But then again, so was kissing me at that party. Not so much the kissing part. Just the me part. And the gentle-tight way he held me, the way he looked into my eyes…

I suck in a sharp breath. But I’m doing this as a friend. Not because of whatever we might be. If Connie was the one who got sick, I’d be here, too.

Steeling my nerves, I take my bag with an iron grip and make for the dorm.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

The door is already open when I arrive, propped open by a deflated volleyball. Weird. Some music that sounds like it was taken straight from Fast and Furious plays from inside. Knowing Connie, it probably is.

Nothing stirs when I open the door, but it is a pretty quiet door. The living room is right in front of me, ugly antique couch and all, but it’s completely empty. I didn’t walk into the wrong room, did I?

“Connie? Jean?” I slip off my shoes — Connie is insistent (I think shoes in the house is a crime anyway) — and creep through the dorm. “You guys?“

My voice rings through. Nothing. Peals of dread condense in my stomach and I pick up the pace, nearly barreling to a stop in front of the bathroom. I knock; first on the bathroom, then Jean’s bedroom. Connie left his door open.

“Jean? You in there?”

No response.

“I’m gonna— I’m opening the door, okay?”

And without time to think about what might be on the other side, I twist the knob and push.

Nothing. I even look behind the shower curtains.

Who even closes an empty bathroom?

Next is Jean’s room, but it’s also empty.

Where the hell are they?

I check my phone again and text the group chat.

me: @/mr. handsome @/jean where are you guys?

Waiting…

lainah: Gym

What.

me: are you sure.

lainah: One image attachment

Sure enough.

I should have noticed when his parking spot was empty.

me: dont let them leave. omw now

Sasha starts typing something but I throw my phone in the bag. I should have known they’d pull some bullshit like this. Well, not they. He. Something blistering and boiling threatens to spill over within me, but I take a deep breath. I’ll deal with him when I get there.

Jean’s a smart man, but not when he’s being stubborn.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

The car ride, despite being short, gave me a chance to cool my nerves.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. I grip the steering wheel in front of the gym. It’s fine. And step out.

Anytime Fitness is a strange and marvellous place full of people you might not see anywhere else. I don’t care about them. I scan the machines and see Reiner on the treadmill, and he meets my eyes a moment after. He nods in a different direction and I follow his gaze until I see the unmistakable bronze and shaved hair combination. I mouth a thank you and he smiles.

I must look completely out of place here, weaving between sweaty and half-naked bodies in my coat and jeans like I have a demon on my tail until I’m standing behind the chest press.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Connie’s saying and by the way Jean grunts it’s definitely not the first time.

“Let it go. I’m fine, and I’m going to the gym like I always do.” Jean’s voice is thick and nasal. “Buzz off.”

“Look, I already left the house with you. I can’t let you die here.”

“I said I’m fine—”

At the end of Jean’s rep, I slip the pin out of the weights. Jean nearly lunges over as the heaviness suddenly decreases.

Both look at me.

Connie looks normal. Jean is already slick with sweat, hair askew, red-nosed, with a slight wheeze lining his breath as he sits on the edge of the seat. Not normal. Not fine.

“Jean. My car. Now.” I point at Connie. “You take his back.”

A slight smile cracks his visage and that’s all I see before whipping around like an army man and making my way out.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

There’s a lot of things I could be saying, but I don’t, because there’s too much. So we drive home in silence.

Now that we’re closer, I can really hear the struggle with Jean’s every breath, the occasional cough, the mucous-laced sniffs, as much as he might try to hide it. He just sits there, going on his phone, staring out the window, until:

“Pull over.”

And his eyes are closed, head tilted up, pained look on his sweat drenched-face. I move to the side of the door without question and he scrabbles for the handle — I unlock it for him — before opening the door and half-falling over as he pukes.

I pinch my lip between my teeth and look the other way as the smell hits right after. Fine my ass.

Ever since I was young, the sound of heaving has always unsettled me. Even fake gags. Like it flips a switch in my heart to induce a sudden thrill of terror as if someone horror-movie screamed. And yeah, it’s just throwing up, but I hate it.

My heart races as he unloads again and I just want to plug my ears. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t sit here.

When the coast is clear I hop out and walk around the back. Jean is squatting on the pavement right before it hits the grass where his vomit lays, poking up through the stiff shoots. Though we’re outside, the smell is even worse. I try not to look at it as I hand Jean a bottle of water and set a stack of napkins I filched from Wendy’s on the passenger seat beside him.

“Thank—” he manages to croak out before pitching over again.

He’s been growing out his hair. I guess I didn’t notice it before, but now it’s long enough to get in his face in this position.

I gather the strands in my hands — soft as that day before the turn of the year — and hold them on the crown of his head as he retches.

When he’s done, I consider rolling down the windows, but decide against it.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Jean hardly notices when I pull in (again). Weirdly enough, his car still isn’t here — either Connie drives like a grandpa or he’s gone off somewhere.

“Jean.”

He inhales through his mouth, sucking up the new, pukey scent of my car, and opens his door with half-lidded eyes, leaning hard. It bumps against the campus van I’m parked beside and I cringe. Parked too close. He’s in no state to stand up on his own, let alone walk.

“Let me help you.”

He grunts in something like disagreement and I shut my door on him, going around the back again. Soiled napkins are shoved into the door storage and the water bottle is half-empty and crushed on the floor. Well. I offer a hand and after some hesitation he takes it, clasping my shoulder, and when I help him stand the added weight nearly crushes me. Jean is big, maybe not muscular like Reiner, but tall. Even through my coat and his too-thin sweater he radiates heat and he grunts a sickly air into my ear as he finds his footing. There’s barely enough room for the both of us between the car and the van so I shuffle us sideways, around the other side of the car and to the front. I gently lower Jean so he leans against the hood.

“Wait here.”

He doesn’t object as I shut the passenger door and lock the car before going back and offering my shoulder once again and I nearly fall over once again and we huddle together into the building. He’s never this quiet. Never so agreeable. Never so willing to take the help that’s offered to him.

This is a side of Jean I’ve never seen before. A side that I surely was never meant to see.

I swallow thickly and shuffle our bodies forward so I can push the button for the elevator. His head bumps against mine as it droops but he quickly straightens. “Sorry. Sorry.” His voice is gravelly and small, so small, as if it came from another person entirely.

I stare at the side of his face, but he’s focussed on something far away. “You’re okay, Jean.”

The elevator dings open and we go in. Seventh floor button. The door rolls shut.

Beep. Our knees buckle as the elevator accelerates and the screen above the button panel indicates that it’s going up. It usually smells of antiseptic unless it’s been raining.

Beep. The elevator’s always been slow which is why most people take the stairs instead. Connie calls it the ‘hellevator’ because he swears it almost dropped him once.

Beep. Jean’s trying to steady himself; hold himself up.

Beep. We haven’t been this close together since the party.

Beep. Jean takes an unusually large, wheezy breath and holds it. “Sorry.” His voice is hardly a rumble against my side.

“Why are you sorry?” I ask, quietly.

Beep. “For making you do this.”

Beep. The door retracts and muffled hip-hop fills the air. We walk off the hellevator and stand in front of the dorm. 704. An opaque plastic bag hangs off the handle and I take it in the same hand I hold my bag — thanks, Mikasa.

“You have your key?”

Jean grumbles and taps his pockets, pulling out a key ring. A rubber charm — Badtz-Maru, the little angry penguin — hangs from the ring. Sasha gave all of us one in her Sanrio phase. Keroppi for Connie, Charmy for Mikasa, Pompompurin for Marco, Cinamaroll for Eren, Kuromi for me. I (was forced to) help her choose.

The key retracts and Jean uses his free arm to turn the handle and shoulder the door open. He clears — tries to clear — the phlegm in his throat. “Alexa,” he gurgles. “Alexa, stop.”

The music immediately ceases and we stumble to the couch where Jean unceremoniously drops and tucks his head between the armrest and cushioned back, looking utterly uncomfortable.

“Get up, Jean.”

He sniffs.

“Come on. Bed.” I drop my bags on the coffee table. “Not couch.”

“No.”

“Connie will throw a fit. And so will I.”

“Just—” he tries clearing his throat again— “go.”

“I’m not leaving until you get better.” I blink. No, I’m not leaving him here alone. Why does that surprise me?

“I’m fine. I told you. Done it before. I’ll get better.”

“Done it before?” I giggle falsely. “What, you used to rawdogging colds all by yourself?”

A car passes outside, a familiar rising and falling sound against the unfamiliar silence of the dorm.

“Jean?”

“Go…”

And I swear he’s never sounded so… vulnerable before. Like he’s laid out all his organs on a big table and I’m holding the scalpel. Just waiting for the incision.

A little softer, I tell him, “I’m not going anywhere, Jean.”

And I take the goodie bag and head for the simple kitchen — that is, an inlaid fridge, stove, and pantry cramped behind an island counter with a sink. I hold the electric kettle Reiner got for Jean’s and Connie’s fifth anniversary (he thought they were together at first) under the sink and let it fill to two cups just in case before setting it back and switching it on.

Then I rummage through the drawers and cupboards until I find an old, strangely moist box of tea packets. Yuzu mist or Cheerful Citrus? I opt for the latter.

Tearing open the package, I glance at Jean who still hasn’t moved. The teabag I dump into a printed mug that Jean likes to use.

NUMBER 1 COUGAR

I wonder where he got that.

The kettle clicks off when the water boils and I fill the mug. Oh. Honey would be good. I return to the couch and sift through my bag, shifting my keys in the process. Now Jean stirs.

“Are you leaving?”

“No, Jean.”

I keep rummaging. I know it’s in there. Might be in deep, but—

“Please don’t.”

I pause, emotions — affection? concern? — swirling like particles of tea in water. “Okay, Jean.”

I finish making the tea in silence with an almost-empty bag of milk left in the fridge. How do these boys even survive? All that’s in there are cold cuts and a bag of only bread butts, among some other, strange things. Including a pair of boxers.

“Can you sit up?”

Jean sighs into the cushion and braces against the armrest to push himself into somewhat of a sitting position.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

His eyes cast down. I swallow the silence that suddenly envelops us. Nothing weird. Just a room. I’m just a caretaker. “Come on, Jean.”

“Can— can you help me?”

I fall into the little divot in the couch where Jean sits and let him wrap an arm around my shoulder. “Ready?” I say. “One, two…”

We stumble up and pass through the already-ajar door to Jean’s bedroom and I nearly stop to take a better look. He has blackout curtains, currently drawn, painting the room in a dark blue light except for a thin bar of sunlight from between the curtains that propagates as a glowing line on the carpet. The walls are plastered in posters, sketches, paintings, sketches. Half-finished drawings on his desk and swivel chair and a few on the ground. A small compartment shoved into one corner with every art supply imaginable.

Still taking in the view, I (we) back into the bed, butt-first, and Jean unwraps himself from me.

“You won’t… do anything weird… to me?”

I smile. Conversational, that’s good. “Not unless you want me to.” And I wish I had shut up before the first word even came out of my stupid mouth. Standing, I look over my shoulder. “I’m getting the medicine.”

“Wait. Don’t.”

Under the doorframe now, I pause. “I’m not leaving. I’ll be right back.” And I go to the goodie bag.

I should just work on keeping my mouth shut. Mikasa had picked out some ibuprofen, NyQuil, and lozenges. Pills should be good. I take the mug and the box and head back.

When I get back Jean’s sitting against the headboard, trying to uncrumple his blanket to get underneath.

“Let me help.”

He watches me then, helpless — Jean fucking Kirschtein, helpless! — as I set down the pills and mug on his glass nightstand and unfold the mess he’s got on the mattress. “Pull your legs up.”

He obeys. I pull the quilt over him.

I try not to stare. “You can put your legs down now.”

He obeys.

“Sit up, Jean. You need more pillows.”

Eyes glued to me, he leans forward so I can take his other pillow to prop him up more comfortably, leaning back when I touch his warm shoulder. Then I take the mug and offer it to him. “Drink some of this.”

Painfully quiet, he takes the mug with both hands and takes a tentative sip, lips curling around the brim of the ceramic to slurp up the soothing drink. He’s doing good. Until he hits a bump and starts sputtering.

Immediately I take the drink as he coughs up whatever went down the wrong way. When he’s done I realize I’ve been rubbing circles into his back so I take my hand off.

My phone buzzes in the living room. Shit.

“I’ll be back.”

Jean stares at his knees under the blanket and doesn’t move when I come back.

sashacado: omg yall

sashacado: theyre gonma be killed💯

armong us: What’s going on?

sashacado: @/lainah what did u do

lainah: One video attachment

sashacado: ONG LMFAOOO

sashacado pinned a message

mr. handsome: @/me im headed to urs with sash for a while. hope thats cool w you and all lmk if u need anything

jägermeister: are u fr leaving those two alone

mr. handsome: well good morning to u too pricness

Deleted message

jägermeister: oh right

sashacado: connor springer delete that message rn @/mr. handsome

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

mr. handsome: ok ok jfc im sorry

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

sashacado: ok good

Whatever the hell they’re up to now.

Jean thrashes slowly and I feel a little guilty for staring down at my phone the whole time. “Are you okay?” I breathe, sticking to his beside like a magnet. “Are you in pain?”

“Hot,” is all he says.

I peel the blanket off. He is hot. Really hot.

Not like that. He’s feverish.

“Can you… help me?”

“Yeah?” I stare at him — help with what? — until he raises his arms over his head.

Oh. A few circuits in my head switch off. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m can help.” Idiot.

Like touching something radioactive I grasp the edge of his sweater and slowly raise it, catching the shirt underneath for a fleeting second before it falls back down. Deep breath. Yes, I am helping out a guy I’m dating-not-dating who I’m definitely not attracted to to take off his clothes in his bedroom in his empty dorm. Because he’s sick. No problem. Because I’m a good friend.

The neckline catches on his jaw and I unhook it, delicately trailing the scruff on his jaw in the process.

And it’s off and on the ground. Holy shit. Jean’s been sweating. And I know all that dampness on his shirt, clinging feebly to his attractive sick form, didn’t come from his 10 minutes at the gym.

He doesn’t lower his arms. Oh, so we’re doing it like this.

Okay.

I come forward again, within earshot to the rattling in Jean’s chest with his every breath, and quite literally peel the thin white shirt off. This time it’s impossible not to touch his incredibly warm and damp body, not to scrape my nails against the softness of his skin, from his waist to his broad shoulders all the way down his arms. Now he puts them down.

I almost forget he still smells like puke.

“My pants…”

Ohoho. No way, buster. You’re on your own. I’m calling Connie. Nooo way.

“Okay, but unbuckle yourself.”

He does without question, fumbling first with his belt, which I help slide off, and then his jeans.

What in the ever-loving fuck am I doing? This sounds like a smut setup. No. I’m just a friend helping out a sick friend, two friends who have never done anything even slightly romantic together.

“Sit up on the edge, okay?”

He heaves his sweaty self to the edge of the bed, palms leaving wet marks on the sheets, and, staring at the ceiling, I grasp at the hem of his pants (skirting his boxers or whatever he’s wearing because I’m not looking) and pull them (he lifts himself at first to help) all the way down. In one smooth movement I turn back around.

“Put your shirt over your… yourself.”

I wait a good few heartbeats before turning back around and lo and behold, he’s done as told. Frankly, it looks even worse now, like he’s lying in bed completely naked with just a shirt covering him. (But that’s only true if I think it’s true!) The jeans I’m still clutching for some reason I deposit on a chair.

“Jean, I’ll be right back, okay?” I wait for a response I should know isn’t coming before going out again, this time in search for a facecloth. Which I do find, shoved in the corner of the linen cabinet. I should be grateful they even have some, but then again, it might’ve been another gift from Reiner they didn’t have the heart to throw away. I rinse it under some cool water and announce my re-entry.

“I’m back. Sit still.” Folding some of the damp cloth over two fingers, I carefully dab at the sweat on his forehead. No, I need to… I pick off some strands of his sandy hair from his face, holding his hair back against his scalp, and try again. Better. “Jean?”

He opens his eyes halfway, and they raise lazily to meet mine. He’s sweaty everywhere and too late I catch myself stroking his head. I wipe his cheek next.

“Drink some tea, okay? I need you to take a pill.”

“Pillk?”

“Yes,” I say encouragingly, like training a puppy. Neck next. “Just a pill.”

He takes in a deep mouth breath. There’s a portrait stuck to the ground on the other side of his bed.

Is that…

“I can’t.”

My eyes snap back and I pause, dabbing at his collarbone. “What’s that?”

He shakes his head, furrowing his brows as if the action took too much effort. “Can’t… swallow. Can’t swallow pills.”

I blink. “You can’t take pills?”

A fleeting smile meets his lips. “Vitamin gummies. Not. Vitamin pills. Might get stuck in m’throat.”

I fold up the cloth into a rectangle and smooth it out onto his forehead. “Just take some tea with it.”

“Tried. No.”

Who knew? For a guy with such a big mouth, he sure has a small esophagus.

“Jean, it’ll make you feel better.”

“No.”

I pop open the box and break open the tinfoil seal to take out a single pill.

“Noo…”

“Jean, you’ll be fine. You’re a big boy now.” And I vow never to speak again.

When I push the little oval against his mouth, I find it won’t open. Jean is breathing laboriously through his 90 percent clogged nostrils.

“Open up.”

He purses his lips, further preventing entry, and I swear he’s smiling a little.

“Very funny. Take your pill. You’re gonna suffocate yourself.”

Still nothing. I pinch his nose. He makes a muffled noise but otherwise doesn’t react.

Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. At thirty-three I let go. “Are you really willing to kill yourself over a pill?”

“Don’t want. Don’t need.”

“Yeah, and I ‘don’t need’ you choking over your own puke in your sleep.”

“No…”

“Jean.” I feel terrible already for doing it like this. “Try. If you don’t at least try, I’ll leave.”

I bite my lip, awaiting his response. I really shouldn’t have said that. I’m such an asshole. Fuck.

“Okay.”

Deep breath. I push the pill against his bottom lip and the soft tissue yields against my fingers for a moment before he opens. The mug is to his lips not a moment after; he gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing, and the tea in his mouth suddenly explodes out and sprays warmly all over my face.

All. Over.

I peel my eyes open after impact. Jean looks more awake than he did before, and with a discernible expression, too: terror.

Okay. Good!

Slowly, he reaches for the sweat-soaked cloth on his head and offers it to me. I shake my head.

“Be right back.”

Bathroom. Cold water. Cold water against my face. There’s two razors on the sink and the edges of the white surface have some hairs on them. Face hairs, I’m sure. I pray.

If whatever Jean has is contagious, I sure as hell have it now.

I turn the tap off and swipe the water from my face. Great. Okay. I bunch up my now-wet sweater. I can do this.

I re-enter the bedroom. Jean sits up a little straighter now, sipping in small increments. “Sorry.”

I put my sweater on the chair. “It’s okay.”

“I— really—”

“Jean, it’s okay.”

“I’m fine. I’ll get better.” Which is about the most complete sentence he’s said in a while.

“I told you I’m not going anywhere, didn’t I?”

He doesn’t say anything. Almost unconsciously, I gravitate to his bed.

“You already did too much for me.”

“Nonsense.”

“Why do… you do this?”

Now that gets me thinking. Because you’re sick. Because I’m a good friend. Because you’re my guinea pig for Hospitality 101. Maybe all three.

My eyes trace back to the scribbled portrait on the other side of Jean’s bed and I take the cloth from his forehead.

Thousands upon thousands of excuses, and a singular truth.

“Because I like you.”

And I take my time going back to the bathroom.

Cold water. Cold water against my hands.

“Coming in.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” Jean clears his throat, almost inaudible against my beating heart. “Back at the party. Wasn’t… nothing.”

“Wasn’t all that much, either,” I say dryly. Hopefully he doesn’t notice how shaky my hands are. How shaky against his pallid skin.

Jean inhales and I can see the movement through his chest. “No. Wasn’t a lot.” He tilts his head up at a minuscule angle to scan my face, and maybe it’s the perspective, or the weird lighting, but I could swear he’s never looked at me like this before.

Except for that time.

“So I’d…” he swallows. “Like— like to have more.”

For a few seconds, it’s silent. For a few seconds, all that there is are his dim eyes and mine. For a few seconds, we fall into each other and tread water, sinking, fading…

I break our gaze and tremblingly pluck a tissue from a box on the ground; hold it to his nose. “Blow.”

He takes a shaky breath and obeys.

Fold. “Again.”

He shuts his eyes and blows.

“Again.”

He blows until his air gives out. I drop the spent tissue.

“Again?”

He shakes his head.

“Let’s try the pill.”

He nods and stares as I open the foil for a second time and pop the new one in my mouth.

He watches, confused, until a wave of realization seems to hit him.

He stays statue-still as I lean in, put a hand on the headboard on either side of his head.

His heat, like a barrier, raises the hairs on my skin. He cups my jaw. I cradle the side of his neck, and his pulse beats at a million miles a minute. The pill begins to dissolve.

Our mouths barely touch, and I make the final connection.

Jean is tall. Jean is arrogant. Jean will laugh at you when you fall.

But Jean has the softest lips, the sweetest mouth (even when he puked out a buffet no more than half an hour ago). Jean will melt like soft butter under your touch. Jean will accept your tongue, no questions asked, and retaliate with twice the vengeance.

Like I’ve been dreaming of since that brief moment at the party, I let my hand run insouciant through his hair. No eyes watching. No social boundary.

He gasps softly for air and I do the same, pulling his scalp so he tilts to meet me better with a small grunt. God, I fucking love his hair.

Now both of his iron-hot hands are on me, hooking under my shirt, running up and down, claiming every square inch, and I let mine fall from his neck down to his slick chest down to his stomach down to his abs. Other still planted firmly in his hair, pulling, twirling, pulling, and when I tug again Jean squeezes so hard, doubling down, suddenly hungry, suddenly a starving man. Wrapping his arms around my back and pulling me closer, I oblige, hooking a leg onto his bed, between his knees, and my thigh brushes against his still-damp T-shirt, and he groans softly into my mouth—

and swallows with an ulp!

and it’s over.

I stroke his throat as the pill goes down and he stares hollowly at me until it’s gone. I recline and smile.

“Is that enough for you?”

Unblinking, he pulls me down again.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Connie kicks the asphalt with his definitely real Gucci slides. “Are you done?”

“Shh!”

He shoots his friend a withering look — that is, as withering of a look that he can muster.

“This is creepy. And I’m cold. Can we at least—”

Sasha puts down her binoculars and shows him what a real killer glare is. He rolls his eyes and scans his phone. Eren’s sent a message to the matchmaker groupchat.

emo king🖤⛓️: are u sure this plan of urs worked out

emo king🖤⛓️: excuse me if this is harsh, but it’s probably the dumbest shit of ur dumbshit ideas

me: yeah try telling Sash that

sharmin ultra soft: Eren’s right. Chances are Jean puked and turned everyone off

intimidating woman: i think there’s a chance

emo king🖤⛓️: are u fr in on this mikasa

sashami: you guys shh the star coming

Sasha shoots him another look before putting her non-stalker scope away in preparation for the star of the day’s arrival.

“Whad’d I do?”

As far as he knows, Connie is doing everything right. He’d told everyone that he was sleeping over at Sasha’s. (Her idea.) And now it’s Monday, and it’s time for the star’s (code name) first class (and also Sasha’s), and now they’re sitting out in the cold like a couple of dumbasses watching the stairwell windows. (Also her idea.) What the heck?

“I’m going in the car,” Connie grumbles. He doesn’t wait for the inevitable retort and climbs in to the drivers’ seat.

The car. The one silver lining to this whole ordeal. He’d eaten, put his feet up in, and used up every last drop of gas on this baby and Jean couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

But the person coming through the door isn’t their star. It’s Jean. Huh?

Connie pops out of the vehicle and joins up with Sasha.

“Oh— you’re here, too?” Jean’s brow furrows deeper. “What’s going on?”

“Well, hello to you, too,” Connie grins. “Looks like you‘re doing a lot better.”

“No thanks to you lot.”

“Where are you going?” Sasha pipes in, and he knows what’s coming next. She’s using her interviewer voice.

“Just… going to class.” Jean smacks Connie’s shoulder. “Keys?”

He produces them with a flourish and a jangle and the taller takes them, unlocking the car.

Beep beep!

Sasha casually tails him, twisting around to block the driver’s side door.

“Sash.”

“Were you a good host?”

“I mean, I was really sick.”

“You have actual, proper food, right? Did you feed your dear caretaker?”

“Uh…” he smirks. “Yeah.”

“Is your room clean?”

“It’s fine!”

“Did you sleep together?”

He rolls his eyes and wedges a hand between his car and the girl. “Okay, get out.”

“Answer my question!” Sasha cries as she stumbles back and Jean hops in. Without another word, the car backs out. Jean turns and comes forward so he’s perpendicular to the parking spot before lowering his window.

“Connie! You owe me 20!” And then he’s gone.

Dumbfounded, the boy looks to Sasha, finding her staring at her phone. “What’s wrong? You on your period?”

“Oh, fuck off. Look.”

star: sorry sash,, not coming to hospitality. i got sick :(

star: jeans staying home for me tho. dont wait up <3

And the mastermind screenshots the fruits of her labour.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

would you look at that. more kissing. *throws tomato* i did 80% of this in one day. no regrets!! (said eren.) (ill shut the fuck up now) i hope you enjoyed! it actually turned out a lot less gross than i originally planned (they were gonna do it with the nyquil ewwwww) but this is fine. right? i never actually kept a pill on my tongue like that for so long so for my sanity's sake let's pretend this is how it all works.

this started out as a oneshot. however,,, i decided to add more parts to it because i'm a sucker. check it out if you like! <3

byebye

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

masterlist part 2 - low tide

#jean kirschtein fanfiction #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein fanfiction #jean kirstein x reader #aot fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #pushable #pushs oneshots

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