#and when you look up at the sky what you're caring about is whether or not pluto fits into an arbitrary definition of a word?

[andromeda3116]

also like. they found so much stuff out there that it was like "okay, either pluto isn't a planet and we have only eight* planet-planets in the solar system, or there are an uncountably huge number of planets in our solar system, which stretches out to ???? billions of miles away and perhaps even as far as a light-year"

like rewriting the definition of "planet" to exclude pluto was by far the lesser evil, and so by the updated definition of the word, pluto simply wasn't ever a planet to begin with. we just didn't know enough about the outer solar system when we discovered it to know that our definition was inadequate

*something something planet nine??? probably exists? maybe exists? maybe just weird math in the model? absolute hair-pulling nightmare to ever actually confirm or image?? may have been a rogue planet whose own star died billions of years ago and left it still hurtling along in the interstellar void? maybe small ice giant, maybe super-earth that got flung out to the fringes of the solar system by that regina george-ass planet jupiter? something possibly beautiful hiding in the math and invisible against the far stars, or a flaw in our math that makes it all just a fool's errand?

wow pluto reclassification discourse is exhausting. here I thought doing a poll that highlights some of pluto's cool lesser known dwarf planet friends would put things in a context where it can't possibly go in that direction but nope a bunch people really do just hold a hard stance against a classification system entirely out of a sense of nostalgia

[just-a-ghost00]

The reason why they fell so hard.

Images found on Pinterest. Each spread consists of 5 cards. The messages will be written as if it were from the POV of the person you were asking about.

Group 1

9 of pentacles, queen of swords, 9 of swords, 5 of swords, the Sun

You're so freaking addictive. Every time you push me away, I can't help but to love you more. I was just raised that way. I was taught to work hard for what I wanted. I was taught that love should be deserved and was not to be messed with. I was taught that caring was fighting. Fighting for the sake of those you love. Fighting against those you love. I know, I was not raised in the best conditions. I know, I may not know what love is. But I know that I want you. And that, neither of us can deny. I fell for you because you never let me have my ways. You call me out and push me to be better. You never need me. You never wait for me. You just are. And you are perfect. Everything about you is rock solid. I don't have to worry whether you're gonna make it out. Because I know whether I'm here or not, you'll make it to the top. You did not wait for me to be who you are and that won't change. Whether I'm around or not, you're still gonna slay. And to know that someone so strong cares about me fills me with pride and desire. You got under my skin. Even if I wanted to push you away, I couldn't. You're everything I see. All I think about. Every decision I make is tainted in your color. Your warmth has penetrated through the cracks of my walls and now I cannot help but to seek for their comfort. I was alone. I was cold. I felt scared and misunderstood. I was tired. So exhausted of having to work so hard only to be met with silence. I struggled so hard to be where I am. The road to success is lonely, I've been told. Though I knew it, I couldn't help but to hope that I would find people along the way who would be there through thick and thin. But there were none. And then you came in. And everything changed. My sky is clearer because you chased the storm. How could I not fall for you after all?

Complementary information : this person is first and foremost attracted to your mindset as proven by the fair amount of sword cards in the spread. They may be a sapio sexual. If you tend to be considered the brains of your friend group, then this is one of the reasons why this person is head over heals for you. Another thing I'm strongly picking up on is sarcasm. You may not hold your tongue in presence of this person. You may tease them a lot or downright mock them when they're being rude or acting silly. There may not be a lot of people around this person that dare talk back to them. But you do. Somehow this shows this person that you are someone they can count on. Another important factor is your independence and your abundance. If you have your own business or you are a very active person, you make your own revenue and are able to provide for yourself and your family, then this person is in awe of your success. Even more so if you happen to be popular among your peers. You leave a very good impression on this person because of how serious and dedicated you are to yourself, your work, of how straightforward and fair you can be with others. You have a very strong moral code that gets this person weak in their knees. Your generosity may also touch them deeply. If we're talking about physical aspects of you, what stands out to me is that you may look very youthful and bright compared to other people. That may be true especially if you have a style that is a stark contrast from the rest of your circle. Or at least you're very different from what this person is used to. You represent some kind of extraordinary factor in their life. For instance, if this person has always lived in one city and in this place they only see very skinny and pale people but you are a bit chubby and of a darker skin tone, you will automatically strike this person right away. This person seems to be attracted to what is different from them. You represent the unknown, adventure. That may be very electrifying to them. There may be a bit of fetichism hiding under all that attraction.

Group 2

Ace of pentacles, Wheel of fortune, Magician, 3 of cups, 2 of cups

You took my breath away. The moment I met you, I knew I had to have you. You became as essential to me as oxygen in a matter of seconds. It's not just because of your beauty, your grace, the way you talk or cary yourself. It's about how perfect our meeting was, how in a heartbeat you became the answer to all of my prayers. I didn't know I needed you until I laid eyes on you and God do I feel thankful for being able to experience this. I feel so lucky being with you. It's like you're every one of my dreams come true. You're smart, patient, kind, loving, generous. You never bring me down. You never ask of me more than I can give. You never give me more than I can chew. You're always so fair and just. You just have that magic to you that I can explain. It's like someone has casted a spell and now all I can see and think of is you. To be honest, I wouldn't mind you casting a spell on me if that meant that I got to be with you for the rest of my life. You're so fun to be around. So chill. I just feel so good with you. Our dynamic is perfect. We match like to puzzle pieces. Made for each other. I'm sure fate has a lot to do with this. You were my destiny. I'm sure of it. Our meeting was no coincidence. I mean, you came in at the perfect time and the perfect place! If that's not destiny, I don't know what is.

Note from reader : this person's energy is so sweet omg they're just in awe of you. I get a very flirty energy from them. I got the message that they were especially drawn to your lips and hips. I heard "hips don't lie" lmao They think you're their Shakira. This person likes to tease apparently. For some I'm getting that you're a witch or you're into the occult arts like tarot and such. This person may tease you about this but they have nothing against it. It's just something they find hard to believe. But when they see you they can't help but to question everything they think they know. They legit think that you put a spell on them because of that. This person is aware that you use tarot as a way to manifest. They feel intrigued by that. You intrigue them more than you will ever know. I get a lot of sexual energy coming from this person, though the cards don't show it as much. However, I'm picking up on the fact that your person may be in a third party situation. Or at least, they were when you first met. What could have contributed to their attraction for you was the fact that you represented a way out.

Group 3

The Emperor, 3 of cups, The Empress, The Lovers, Judgement

Babe, can't you tell? How could I not fall for you? My princess. My love. You are gorgeous. Gorgeous in every way, as if God himself made sure that your creation would be a success. You are wife material. You are THE woman. Everything about you makes me go crazy. I want to protect and love you with all my might. You are my equal. My other half. The Yin to my Yang. Even if I wanted to hate you, I just couldn't. We're so good together. There isn't even a need to question or doubt it. It makes perfect sense to me that we should be together. You are an absolute queen. You are fierce, strong, independant. You value yourself without bringing others down. You stay true to your word and your principles. You've never been disrespectful to any body. You've built yourself up so brilliantly. You are smart and observant. You always know what to do, what to say, when to talk and when to remain silent. You are perfectly balanced and mature. Your life and accomplishments are the solid proof of your authenticity and worthiness. You are popular, admired among your peers. I always hear such good things about you. How could I not love every part of you? How could I disregard such a gorgeous being? That would be foolish of me. To me, our love is as obvious as the sun rising each moring and the moon shining in the night sky.

Note from reader : if this person hasn't asked you out already, I think they're going to do so soon. And let me tell you, they're no joke. They want to wife you up ASAP. My appologies to gentlemen and non binary people, as the channeled message mainly mentioned women. I feel like even though the message was written this way, the general content still applies to you. If you or this person is a Taurus or an Aries, this is your sign that you picked the right group. Gemini and Scorpio could also be relevant. What this person loves the most about you is your body. I'm hearing Ed Sheeran's song in my head. This person feels a strong magnetic pull towards you that they just cannot resist no matter how hard they try. They've expressed the fact that your personality and ethic is what got them going, but I think what drew them in first were your looks. I'm especially picking up on your curves overall and your sense of fasion. You looked very balanced to this person. And very mature. From first glance they thought "this person knows what they're doing". It's like they thought you purposefully matched certain clothes together because you knew how good it made you look. And looking at you they thought that you would make a good team. After all, this person is represented as the Emperor and you are the Empress. So they may be into fashion as well. Maybe they're the kind to wear couple outfits. And when they met you they immediately pictured you together because your style matched theirs.

[alloftheimaginesblog]

first love {e.m}

plot: you were eddie's first love and you never forget your first love.

character: eddie munson x reader

Everyone knew about you. A day never passed without Eddie mentioning you and your name whether it be a passing "(y/n) loved that" or a more in depth conversation about you or a memory but Eddie always spoke about you. You and Eddie were high school sweethearts. You'd been friends for years and everyone thought that you'd eventually end up together and they were right.

Eddie was your first. First boyfriend, first kiss, first love. You were the same for him and everybody knew it.

The way Eddie spoke about you made everyone smile. He spoke so highly of you, always complimenting you and telling the craziest stories. The two of you were the perfect couple; the 'it' couple as they say. The pair of you together were free, no cares in the world and just happy. God, the two of you were just so damn happy.

"Well, where is she?" Dustin asked with that toothy grin after Eddie had finished telling him a story about the time you and him broke into the school and ended up catching two teachers making out, "You're always talking about her but where is she?"

Eddie's face fell and it was in that moment that Dustin knew he'd fucked up.

Around the room, everyone who knew the truth's eyes widened and stared at Dustin then Eddie then Dustin. Eddie's eyes glazed over face unreadable as Dustin frowned and looked around the room, "What?" He asked, "Did I say something I shouldn't have? I was only asking where (y/n) is, you all look like you've seen a ghost- Oh."

With a horror filled expression, Dustin turned to Eddie and his suspicion was confirmed, "Oh fuck," Dustin whispered, "Eddie, I'm so- fuck, man, I didn't know- I'm so sorry-"

Eddie shook his head, swallowing hard and forcing a quick smile, "It's fine." He stood and cleared his throat, "I just need to get some air."

The room was dead silent until Eddie left and then Steve whacked Dustin on the arm, "Dude!"

"Why did none of you freaking tell me his girlfriend is dead?!" Dustin hissed to Nancy and Steve, "You- You made me look like an idiot! Fuck!"

Outside, Eddie was on the hood of his car, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket along with a lighter to light it up. He looked up to the darkening sky as he took a puff and closed his eyes. He liked to imagine you up there with all the legends, partying and singing away, just waiting until it was his turn to come and then you'd party for all eternity with each other. It had been almost two years since he lost you and there wasn't a moment where he didn't think about you. Every single decision Eddie made, every thought he had... it was all connected to you. Eddie had bought his new van based on what he thought you'd say about it. Eddie wore the outfits you bought him or at least modelled himself in similar items of clothing to ones he knew that you liked. You were gone but you truly lived on in Eddie Munson's day to day life.

It was a few minutes later when Eddie was pressing the cigarette into the grass under his boot that Dustin came out, "Hey, kid," Eddie said, glancing over his shoulder at him, "Come, sit."

Dustin awkwardly sat beside Eddie on the hood of the car, he was shit scared and Eddie could tell, "Dude, I'm so-"

"S'alright," Eddie said with a half smile.

"No, Eddie, seriously, I didn't-"

"Dustin," Eddie's voice was louder but he wasn't angry, he was calm. This was probably the calmest Eddie had ever been now that Dustin was thinking about it, "It's alright."

Dustin nodded and released a long breath allowing his shoulders to sag. He was silent for a few seconds before he said it anyway, "I didn't know... I'm really sorry."

The older boy dug around in his pocket before he pulled out two things; a photo and his lighter. He handed them both to Dustin, "There's my girl." The smile on Eddie's face when he looked at your picture said it all, "That's (y/n) and that lighter was (y/n)'s. She carved our initials into it, see?" Dustin flipped the lighter and sure enough, yours and Eddie's initials were carved onto the black metal, "I carry those everywhere I go... so that she's always with me."

"Can- Can I ask what happened?" Dustin handed the picture and lighter back to Eddie.

Eddie shrugged, "I lost her, that's the long and short of it all. Got hit by a drunk driver one night when we were stopped at a red light. She was gone instantly. I..." Eddie sucked in breath and released it, "Sometimes I wish I'd gone that night too." Dustin didn't speak, he just let Eddie talk, "She hadn't wanted to go out, she wanted to stay in but I wanted more beer. Had I not wanted it-"

"It's not your fault, Eddie."

Eddie nodded, staring down at his photo of you, "Would you believe me if I said it makes it easier if I blame me? No use blaming the other driver, he died that night in hospital. He's dead, can't blame a dead man but I can blame me... and if I blame me, it means that I can be better; I can better myself for her, for (y/n)."

"What was she like?" Eddie spoke about you that much that Dustin already had a pretty good idea of what you were like but he wanted to hear it from Eddie in this heartbreakingly raw moment.

Eddie's face stretched into a wide smile, "Henderson, you would've loved her. She was fiery, didn't take anyone's shit. She was funny, could make friends just like that. She loved D&D, she was the one that coined the name Hellfire Club. She was... She would've done great things. She would've loved you."

The pair smiled at one another before Eddie's eyes returned to the sky, "S'alright, Henderson. You didn't know, don't feel bad about it."

Dustin nodded, realising that was Eddie ending the conversation, "You coming back in?" He jumped from the hood of the car and looked expectantly at the older boy.

"In a minute," Eddie sighed, "just gonna chat to my girl for a minute."

"Say hi to her from me."

"Will do."

Dustin gave him a small smile before walking back inside. Eddie's eyes closed as he looked up, "I wish you could meet them all, pretty eyes, Henderson especially. I think he would've loved you almost as much as I do... Ah well, I better go back in. Don't want them thinking I've gone all soft, eh?" He opened his eyes and looked at your picture once more before pressing a gentle kiss to it, "I love you."

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (21/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The truth comes under purple skies.

Warnings: angst, but mostly tooth rotting fluff because you deserve it

Word Count: 3.4k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: a little late happy birthday to me! sorry for the wait. I love you.

Although you keep your eyes closed, you know that it is still dark outside.

The air in the room is cool against your face, while your tired body is kept comfortably warm under the heavy comforter. It is just as warm against the free, uncovered parts of your body as Charles' soft skin.

His arm is wrapped around your middle, his fingers are tightly intertwined with yours and his thumb strokes gentle circles over your hand. A tender, loving gesture that you're not sure whether it's meant to calm your nerves or his own. 

You haven't changed your positions in bed since you fell asleep pressed tightly together a few hours ago. Charles's chest is still pressed against your back and if you were to focus on it, you could certainly feel his heart beating hard and steady. But you don't. Your thoughts revolve around breathing as normally as possible so that it still looks like you're asleep. 

You don't want to be awake. 

Being awake would involve thinking, and you definitely don't want to think about the last few days. You don't want to think about how Charles told you that you would jump into bed with Lando at the next opportunity. You don't want to think about Raphael coming to your front door last night and calling you a whore. And you don't want to be reminded that Charles jumped to your side and defended you without so much as batting an eye.

All you want right now is to lie here, in his strong arms, wrapped in his scent and warmth. Deep down, you know you can't be angry with him. Lando's words flit through your head again and again about how you both want to protect each other, and even though you've only known each other for a few days, you can tell Charles so well that it's exactly this part of him that makes him who he is.

But you still don't know why he treated you like that.

You breathe in deeply, take in his scent - a mixture of sandalwood, peppermint and a smell that you can only describe as Charles - and press your face into the soft pillow. Although you had been furious with him, you had missed his closeness over the last few days. 

The thumb that has been tenderly drawing figures on your hand pauses.

"I'm sorry." Charles' voice is little more than a whisper against your shoulder blade. As his warm breath brushes over you, your muscles tighten. "No apology in this world can make up for what I did to you. I betrayed your trust, hurt you, and left you thinking I didn't care about you." When you don't answer him, he continues. "I am so incredibly sorry. And I won't ask for your forgiveness or kindness, because I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you. And I'm sorry I couldn't be better for you."

Your heart beats so fast against your ribcage that you fear it will break your bones and jump out of your chest. His touch feels like your skin is burning. When you open your eyes, you see purple clouds in the morning sky through the window. 

Carefully, you turn in his arms, whereupon his embrace loosens a little, but his arm remains on your hip. His eyes are closed, as if he doesn't dare to look into your face. His eyebrows are furrowed and there are a few wrinkles between them that you would love to smooth out with your fingers.

You decide to run your fingers over his bare shoulders. His muscles twitch under your fingertips. "Why did you do it?" Charles remains silent, so you tentatively place your hand against his cheek. You feel his stubble scratch your skin as he exhales deeply, as if he hasn't taken a decent breath in a long time.

He opens his eyes and there is an anxious gleam in the otherwise beautiful green. His gaze searches yours as he nuzzles his face against your hand. "I was jealous."

Jealous?

A small glimmer of hope flares up inside you. Maybe everything you've experienced together - the viewpoint, your movie night, the bookstore, the tiramisu - is based on something other than friendship. On something more. Maybe there was more to every conversation, every look and every smile than just the friendship you nailed down to protect your heart. Maybe you were just talking past each other the whole time. Maybe –

"I was jealous of how well you got on with Lando. I thought that if you got to know each other better and became more than just friends, then we wouldn't be friends anymore. I thought -" He pauses for a moment. "I couldn't bear it if I lost you because of your relationship."

You try to suppress the punch in the pit of your stomach and swallow the frog in your throat. "You hurt me and pushed me away because you didn't want to get hurt yourself?" Your heart breaks a little for him. You finally smooth out the wrinkles between his eyebrows with your thumb. His arm wraps around you tighter and presses you together. His fingers stroke your back and goose bumps spread across your body. 

That's exactly what Lando said. That Charles pushes the people he cares about away to protect himself. Something you can well understand, after all, you were planning to do the same to him. Only not so drastically. 

But Lando also told you something else about the Monegasque. "But that's not all, is it?" An image flickers in your mind's eye of Raphael holding out his hand to introduce himself to Charles. "You didn't just want to protect yourself. Or am I wrong, Charles Leclerc?"

As you say his name, a shiver jerks through his body, as if he's suddenly cold, and his hand freezes against your spine. "You're not." His tone is cooler, more distant than it was a few moments ago, and the tension in the room is palpable despite the purple clouds and morning calm as you place your hand on his bare chest. His heart is beating fast and strong.

"I - I think we both rushed into this friendship far too quickly." You try to put as much warmth into your whisper as you can, even though deep down your heart has caught quite a tear. "We've known each other for five days. And so much has happened in that time that takes some friends years. Our trust in each other went from zero to one hundred." You run your finger over his collarbone, your gaze following him.

Panting, he sucks air into his lungs at your touch. "What do you suggest?"

You purse your lips. "Maybe - maybe we should get to know each other better first. Get to know each other properly so that this doesn't happen again. So that our living together is easier."

Charles tightens his grip around your middle, his legs tangle with yours. "Living together? Does that mean you're staying with me?"

You nod slightly, but grab your arm with your hand to pull away from him. Something flits across his face, but as quickly as it came, it's gone again as you place his hand between your faces on the pillows. "But maybe a little distance will do us good. So we don't mess this up."

His fingers interlace with yours. "I'll do everything I can to make this work."

"That makes two of us," you smile, missing his touch on your body. You miss the warmth pulsing through your veins under your skin. But it's the right thing to do. At least that's what you try to tell yourself. You take a deep breath. "I - I'm unemployed, by the way." You look down at your hands. "I was fired from this magazine before we met. I'm looking for a new job so that I can continue to live in Monaco, because my savings won't last forever. That's why I'm so grateful to you for standing up for me with Joris. About the rent. I can't thank you enough for that."

"But you don't have to," he replies quietly. "Friends help each other. They're there for each other. I can understand why you didn't tell me. Nobody likes to talk about the fact that they've recently lost their job." 

"Thank you," you whisper back. You feel a weight fall from your shoulders. You suddenly find it easier to breathe. But now it's something else that's plaguing your thoughts.

And no one but Charles can give you the answer. "Can you please explain to me what happened yesterday? With - with Raphael?"

The Monegasque briefly lets go of your hand so that he can play with your fingers. He doesn't look at you. "Do you remember the night we watched Cars together?"

You nod. How could you forget that night? The wine, the movie, the flirting that apparently wasn't flirting. Ouch. 

"We talked about Formula One and how you used to watch it with your grandfather when Michael Schuhmacher drove for Ferrari." His gaze is literally glued to your fingers. "When we first met, I told you that my work had something to do with cars, and I wasn't lying."

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. If he's a mechanic or engineer for one of the racing teams, that woiuld explain why he has to travel so much for work. "Is that where all the cool photos on your phone come from? Because you fly across the globe with Formula 1 to work on the cars?"

Your flatmate purses his lips. "I don't work on the cars. I - I drive them." He licks his lips once. "I'm a Formula One driver for Scuderia Ferrari."

"Don't fuck with me," you reply, wanting to pull your fingers out of his grasp. But he holds on to them and when he lifts his gaze and looks you in the eyes, you know he's telling the truth. And his confession makes you see the last few days from a different perspective. 

The conversation between Charles and Joris, shortly after he suddenly appeared in the apartment, pops up in your mind. "When we met, that night - you were on the phone with Joris. You said something about headlines."

He nods slightly. "A few weeks ago, the season ended and Annika and I broke up. I stayed away from here as long as I could because I didn't want to be confronted with it. And when I got to my apartment for emergencies, there you were. With a valid tenancy agreement. I couldn't just throw you out the door. You could have gone public and then it would have made the headlines. Something like "Charles Leclerc throws poor woman out of rented apartment". It was a risk I couldn't take." He furrows his eyebrows again, but this time you hold back.

"You have a nutritionist."

Again he nods. "For the races, I have to follow a strict diet to make the car go faster. Unfortunately, pasta and thick sandwiches aren't part of it, so please don't tell him." 

Fragments of the last few days appear one after the other in your mind's eye, which you try to sort out and work through. "The bistro you went to after the bookshop had already closed, hadn't it?"

"Yes. But when do you ever have a Formula One driver on your doorstep who needs two sandwiches?" He shrugs. "One photo and we've had our dinner."

You lick your tongue over your lips and you don't miss the way Charles' eyes twitch to your mouth. "We went everywhere in my car. Why?"

"You've seen my car." He's referring to the fancy Ferrari in the parking garage. "With its stripes, it's not exactly inconspicuous. Especially since everyone knows the car is mine." He runs his thumb over the side of your index finger. "As soon as the car rolls down the street, everyone knows it's me. And everyone takes photos of it. I couldn't risk you getting caught up in all this because of a stupid car. And especially not because you couldn't choose it until now. Your sweet tin can was the only way we could get around the city together without attracting attention."

You clench your jaw. "The meetings in Italy. What about it?"

"The headquarters are there, in Maranello. Before the winter break, the team wanted to get together again and discuss what went wrong this season and what we can improve."

"And you could just leave like that?" you ask him.

He shakes his head. "Not really. But in my opinion, there wasn't much to talk about either. The season was a throwaway." He shrugs his shoulders. "I was actually a little relieved when Lando called and asked me to go home."

So you were right. The Brit did call Charles. "And what did he say?" 

"Exactly what I needed to hear." He smiles slightly. "He threw a lot of swear words at me and made it clear that I'd be the stupidest idiot in the world if I screwed up this friendship."

You don't know what to do with this information. The fact that Lando called Charles and made a slug out of him doesn't bother you much, because the Monegasque needed the push. But there's also something about the fact that Charles didn't come up with the idea of straightening things out himself. That one of his friends had to step in for you first so that he would get off his butt and stand up for this friendship. That Lando -

"What about Lando? And Pierre? And Kika? Are they part of Formula One too?"

Charles purses his lips into a thin line. "Lando and Pierre are also drivers. Kika is a model."

Bile rises in your gullet as you release your hand from his and turn onto your back, closing your eyes. Everyone knew, they even work in the same field, and no one thought to let you in on it. The whole thing could have gone down the drain. People could have recognized you both, taken photos of you and spread the word. 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I -" Charles exhales. "I was just scared."

"Scared? Of what?"

"My job - my name - brings a lot with it. A lot of good things, like seeing the world, getting to know cultures and not having to worry about things like money. But there are also negative things, like a lot of pressure, fake friends, no privacy." He also turns onto his back. "I don't want you to choose something you don't want because of my name. I thought - I thought if we stayed in our little bubble, our little world, that - I don't know. It was just nice to have someone as a friend who wanted to be friends with me because I'm Charles. And not because I'm Charles Leclerc."

You have to smile. "Actually, I'm only friends with you so that I can live with you and save on rent."

"Haha."

You clasp your hands behind your head. "I can understand, I think. That you have to be careful who you surround yourself with. And that there are a lot of people who only use you because you're you. It sounds very lonely."

Charles snorts softly. "It can definitely be lonely."

"Then let me assure you that I don't want to be friends with you because of your money or your name." 

"But?"

"Do you really need reasons?"

"It certainly wouldn't hurt my ego," you can practically hear his grin. 

"All right," you reply. "I want to be friends with you because you're kind and considerate of your friends' feelings. Because you trusted me with your favorite place, even though you didn't know me. Because you introduced me to your friends because you thought it was inevitable anyway if our friendship strengthened." You take a deep breath and exhale. "I want to be friends with you because you're funny and make me laugh. Because you have a big heart. Because -" 

A feeling bubbles up inside you. You've felt it before - the day after your movie night, when you were reviewing the evening. In the not entirely innocent dream you had about Charles. And when you shared the bed after the bookshop.

It's warm, like a warm blanket, strong like a good hug and bright like Charles' eyes when the sun shines on his face. Charles is not just your roommate. Or your friend. Charles is so much more. Charles is your home.

Before you can complete the sentence, the Monegasque interrupts you. "That's good. That's good enough for me, thank you." He smiles. "It's nice to have you as a friend. Even if I don't deserve it, the way I've treated you."

"Mm-hmm." 

"Maybe you should sleep on it one more night and then decide if you really want it. There's so much more that comes with a friendship with me." When you yawn, he has to laugh. "You see? Maybe you're not even able to think straight right now. And then I push you into a friendship that you don't even want."

"I'm sure," you reply tiredly and you notice how your eyes get heavier. 

"But -"

Before he can finish his sentence, you reach for his hand and interlace his fingers with yours. You try to ignore the fact that this makes your heart beat faster. "I'm sure of it. Believe me." 

When you gently squeeze his fingers twice, he replies with the same gesture. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Then it's a good thing you don't have to find out," you smile and as you yawn again, Charles pulls you closer to him. Like a magnet, you slide across the bed towards him, unable to resist as your face finds its place against the crook of his neck. 

He lets go of your hand, but only to wrap his arm around you. His hand rests on the bare skin of your hip, while his other hand pulls your leg over him so that you're half lying on top of him. You are enveloped by him, fully and completely, and as you place your hand on his bare chest, you feel his heartbeat under your fingertips. 

You try to convince yourself that it's not beating for you, but as you snuggle even closer to him and your lips touch the soft skin on his neck, you feel it skip a beat. But maybe you're just imagining it. 

"I'll be better from now on," he whispers and tentatively presses a kiss to your forehead. Goosebumps spread all over your body, but not because you're cold like he thinks, which is why his arm presses you even tighter against him. "I don't want there to be another moment when you doubt how important you are to me, mon amour."

"You can teach me a little French," you reply. "Then you can hide less from me if I speak your mother tongue too," you joke. 

Charles feels your smile on his neck and he is glad that you can't see the blush on his face. 

"Anything you want. I'll go to the other side of the world for you if I have to."

"But not until tomorrow, all right?" You gently caress his chest with your fingertips and Charles draws in a sharp breath. "Now it's time to sleep. And don't you dare steal my blanket in the night."

Charles would love to pull you on top of him, kiss you and promise you that you're safe with him and that he won't let anything happen to you. But he holds back, just lets his fingers dance over your skin. 

He promises in the purple morning light. "Deal."

next part

[strangerstilinski]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: reader with breasts and a vagina, lil bit of established-relationship domesticity, eddie being a goofball, barely-there smut at the end (0.9k)

𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚢 @strangergraphics

It's late.. Or maybe technically it's early, if the birdsong that's begun to drift through the open window is any indication. The sky is already starting to bleed from inky black to a deep blue, with purple and orange threatening to creep over the horizon any minute.

You've got a leech in the form of your boyfriend draped over your sweaty body, one of his hairy legs thrown over your own, his arm curled around your waist. His cock is still softening against your thigh, your combined spend slowly drying on your skin while your breathing re-regulates following an energetic late-night romp. His pale skin is still flushed pink in the dim lamplight of the bedroom, black ink of his tattoos seeming to stretch beyond their usual shape with the help of dark shadows.

"Soo," Eddie drawls, his voice soft when his face presses to the side of your throat. He leans back, propping himself up on an elbow so he can waggle his eyebrows playfully at you, "How many times was that? For you?"

His teeth nip at the soft flesh of your shoulder between the questions, a bid at playing up his innocence, no doubt. Because he's clearly not at all looking for a little something to boost to his ego. No way. Not your Eddie. Never.

You indulge him all the same. Giving in and playing along with his little over-dramatized bits was all just par for the course of dating him. Not that you minded in the slightest. Honestly, you found his vivacious spirit to be a special kind of intoxicating, and his dedication to it was nothing short of admirable.

You hum as your mind runs back over the last half hour or so, going back and forth with yourself on the exact number as you ponder whether at least one of those ninety second almosts counted — where you'd been clinging onto a truly earth-shattering, brain-dumbing peak that hadn't been meant to be. You debate whether it counted despite them never quite teetering over into orgasm.

Your hand strokes softly along the length Eddie's arm draped across your stomach, the hairs tickling along the pads of your fingers. After much deliberation you tell him, "Three and a half."

His outrage is immediate.

"Half?!" Eddie's voice goes high in disbelief, pushing back a little farther to give you a wide-eyed look to pair with his shock, "When was the half?" He demands, just shy of shrill. The hand on your hip kneads lovingly at the doughy flesh to soften the sheer lack of tact in his delivery.

A smile pulls at your lips at the genuine upset in his hushed tone, a small eyeroll born of nothing but fondness as you try to explain your reasoning, "Well there were a few times, at the end there-"

"No, nope." Eddie's voice only rises in volume, far too loud for the hour but he can't make himself care.

He is well and truly affronted. He can't believe he didn't notice a goddamn half-orgasm — it was horrendous. He's meant to know your body better than anyone else in the world. The thought of you settling for a half-orgasm without saying anything, of you just accepting a half because Eddie busted too quick to get you there again? Maybe he was being a bit dramatic about it all, but, no. It was not acceptable, not in his book.

He says as much.

"That's preposterous. Won't do." Eddie says matter-of-factly as he shuffles up onto his knees again in a rush

"What are you-" You're words cut off with a squeal when Eddie's clumsy sex-weakened limbs give out for a moment and he nearly collapses on top of you. Laughter pushes its way up from your chest, your fingers curling around his biceps to offer him a bit of stability as his head dips so that his nose can brush the tip of your own, "Eddumf-!"

He cuts you off with a kiss, nosing at your cheek until you go pliant underneath him and your mouth opens enough for him to stroke his tongue along your own for just a moment.

He still tastes like sex, the essence of you a little stale and lingering at the back of his mouth, but he kisses you with everything he has. His passion and excitement are as infectious as always and you're keening into the kiss before a minute has passed, your spine arching up off the mattress just a bit to bring your naked chest flush with his.

Your fingers are forced to fall a little loose on his arms when he pushes up onto his hands and shakes out his curls with dramatic flair. There's one stubborn strand sticking at the spit-slick corner of his mouth and a stupidly endearing, crazed look sparkling in his eyes as he begins to backpedal tellingly down your body. His kiss-swollen lips mark a path, kissing his way past your belly button and between your thighs. The round tip of his nose drags lightly up the length of your cunt and you can't help the way your hips jump when he catches your clit.

"Down we go-" Eddie's voice is thrown deep, a ridiculous animated thing that sounds like it's been pulled straight from the table at one of his campaigns. It's a voice that decidedly did not belong fanning out over your cunt while one of his knuckles softly parted your slick folds.

"God, Ed, if you're gonna do it just do it," You speak around a sigh as his finger collects a bit of your combined cum and he swirls it gently around your clit a few times. "I-if you get all goofy on me I'm gonn- oh."

But then his lips are wrapped around your clit and he's sucking like his life depends on it — Three and a half very quickly turns into seven.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Dragon Blood

Chapter 4: You claim a dragon! But as luck would have it, you are found and dragged back to Rhaenyra's court, where Jace is assigned as your mentor in dragon riding.

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Dragonseed (f) reader

The weeks had slipped by, and you found yourself settling into your new life in the Reach. The tavern was busy, townsfolk were generous enough, and the pastor's lessons had become a happy spot in your days. The books he lent you filled your mind with new knowledge— of dragons and their riders.

And yet, no matter how content you tried to be, there was a part of you that always seemed to drift back to Dragonstone, back to the sharp blue eyes of a certain prince.

One afternoon, while running an errand for the tavern, you ventured further than usual, the path winding through a dense forest.

There was a shift in the air that made you stop in your tracks. The forest had gone eerily silent. No birds, no wind, nothing.

You took a careful step forward, your heart beginning to pound in your chest. And that’s when you saw it.

A massive, scaled form lay in a clearing just off the path, hidden among the tall grass and trees. Its body was the color of the night sky, dark blue. The dragon was still, its great head resting on its wings, its eyes closed as if in deep sleep.

You stepped on a pebble, and the sound was too loud. The dragon’s eyes snapped open—huge, molten gold orbs that fixed on you.

You froze, unsure whether to run or stand your ground. Every tale you had read, every nightmare about Vermithor came rushing back.

But the dragon did not roar or take to the skies. Instead, it watched you, its gaze unblinking and oddly calm.

Slowly, you took a step forward, your hand reaching out. The dragon’s eyes followed your every movement, but it remained still, almost... curious. You were close enough now to feel the heat radiating off its body, to see the intricate patterns of scales, each as large as your hand.

"You're beautiful," you whispered, voice barely audible over the sound of the wind in the trees. The dragon's eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for a moment, you could have sworn it understood.

You knelt in the grass, your heart still hammering, and for a moment, it was just you and the dragon in the world. You felt its bond in your veins.

After what felt like an eternity, you slowly stood, your gaze never leaving the dragon’s. It didn’t move, didn’t make a sound as you backed away, your footsteps careful and measured. Only when you were well out of sight did you finally turn and run, your heart racing not from fear, but from exhilaration.

As you made your way back to the tavern, the encounter played over and over in your mind. You couldn’t help but feel that the dragon had recognized you.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The visits continued, each one bringing you closer, the bond between the two of you growing stronger. You would bring food, a fish you'd stash away from your own rations from that day's batch and the dragon would accept it, allowing you to sit by its side, to pet it, to feel the heat of its breath. Occasionally, the dragon would growl, below, or hum. It was as if the dragon was trying to communicate, to reciprocate to you.

You returned to the familiar spot in the forest, a small basket of fruit in hand. Each time you visited the dragon, it felt like entering another world, one where you weren't just a lowly servant but something more—something awesome.

But today, the clearing was empty.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows through the trees. You looked around the area, waiting for the familiar rush of wind, the shadow that signaled the dragon’s arrival. But none came. The clearing remained still and silent.

You walked around the perimeter, softly calling “zaldrīzes” the High Valyrian word for dragon you had read in the pastor's books. But there was no answer, only the rustling of leaves from your scraped up boots. You waited for hours, growing more anxious with each passing minute.

Eventually, as the light began to fade, you sighed in defeat. Perhaps the dragon had found better hunting grounds, or maybe it had simply tired of your company. You picked up your basket and turned to leave, feeling a pang of disappointment as you made your way back through the woods.

The journey home was uneventful, your thoughts lost in worry over the dragon’s absence. The town was quiet when you arrived, the streets nearly empty as the sun had set. As you walked down a narrow alley toward the tavern where you worked, a sense of unease crept up your spine.

You tried to walk faster, but it was too late. A group of men stepped into your path. They were rough-looking, with dirty faces and the smell of ale on their breath. Bandits.

“Where’re you off to in such a hurry, pretty girl?” one of them asked, his eyes raking over you with an ugly grin.

You clutched your basket to your chest. “I have no money,”

Another one, taller than the first, chuckled. “We’re not interested in your money, pretty girl. But you... now, you’re a different story.”

They closed in around you, their hands reaching out to grab at you. Panic surged through you as you tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. Your mind raced, searching for a way out, but all you could think to do was scream.

“Help!” You screamed desperately.

The men laughed, mocking your fear. “Scream all you want, little girl. No one’s coming for you.”

A deafening roar split the air. The sound was so powerful that it shook the ground beneath your feet, sending the bandits stumbling in shock. You looked up just in time to see a massive shadow descending from the sky—a dragon, your dragon.

With a mighty sweep of its wings, the dragon landed on the two rooftops framing the alleyway, its jaws snapping with a terrifying snarl. The bandits cried in terror, scrambling to get away as the dragon unleashed a strong of flames.

The men tried to run, but the dragon was on them in an instant, its claws tearing through them with ease. You stood frozen, unable to look away as the beast defended you with a ferocity you had never imagined.

The dragon turned to you, its eyes glowing with an intense, primal light. You trembled under its gaze, your heart racing as it lowered its head to meet your eyes.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

The dragon huffed, a puff of smoke escaping its nostrils as if to say it was nothing. You couldn’t help but smile, a sense of awe and gratitude swelling in your chest. You reached out to touch the dragon’s snout, your fingers brushing against its warm, leathery skin.

The sound of footsteps reached your ears. You turned to see a figure emerging from the trees—a knight, his armor gleaming shining in the light of the fire.

His eyes widened as he took in the sight before him, the dragon and you standing together. He didn’t speak, but the look on his face told you everything—you had been found, and there would be no hiding now.

He drew his sword. “You are to return to Dragonstone,” he said, his voice commanding. “By order of the Queen.”

The knight hesitated before answering, “The dragon will be cared for. But you must come with me. Now.”

Your heart sank, but you knew there was no arguing. You nodded, glancing back at the dragon. “Will my friend be safe?” you asked quietly.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jacaerys stood at the top of the stairs leading to the Great Hall, a frown etched on his face. He had been in the middle of a strategy meeting when the commotion outside the castle had caught his attention. Now, as he looked down into the courtyard, his breath caught in his throat.

You were there. Your once neat servant’s attire was torn and dirty, your hair disheveled, and your face pale with exhaustion. But it was the dragon standing beside you that seized his focus. The questions in his mind were staggering.

His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. You were surrounded by guards, led by Ser Robert, one of his mother’s trusted knights. The knight spoke to you in hushed tones, his hand on the hilt of his sword as he walked you toward the Great Hall. Even from this distance, Jace could see the way you trembled.

His thoughts twisted with jealousy as he imagined what might have happened to bring you to this state. Had someone hurt you? The thought of another man laying a hand on you filled him with anger.

But he buried those feelings deep as you were brought into the hall, forced to stand before his mother.

Her eyes were sharp as they fell upon you. She motioned for you to come closer, and you hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, your head bowed.

“Who are you?” Rhaenyra’s voice was cold and demanding. “And how did you come to claim this dragon?”

“M- my name is y/n, your grace.” You struggled to respond, your voice shaky. You spoke of your journey, leaving out Vermithor's claiming and your fear of Rhaenyra, your time in the Reach, and how you had come across the dragon by chance.

Rhaenyra’s follow up questions were relentless, pressing you for details, for proof of your bloodline.

But it tore at him to see you like this, to see the fear in your eyes and know that you were searching for him, hoping for his protection. It was ironic that he, a prince, was powerless to help you in this moment.

Jace stood nearby, his hands clenched at his sides. He could see the way you looked toward him, your eyes pleading for some kind of help. But he knew better than to intervene in his mother’s questioning.

Rhaenyra’s gaze went to him briefly, as if gauging his reaction. He kept his face impassive, giving nothing away. And he hated that he cared as much as he did.

He turned away from the hall, the echo of your voice still ringing in his ears.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The warm water felt amazing as it soaked into your skin, washing away the grime of the road. The servants—girls you had once worked alongside—moved around you, scrubbing your skin and washing your hair the way you once had.

You struggled to sit still as they worked. The sensation of being on the receiving end of servitude did not sit well.

You tried to catch their gaze but they were cast the the floor.

“Alys, Katelynn.” You wispered their names. “Please look at me.”

Your old friends' eyes widened, and they obediently glanced up at you before exchanging sideways glances.

You took a relieved sigh, admitting, “I've missed you.”

“We missed you too!” Alys spoke first.

Katelyn was more timid, and slowly opened her mouth to ask. “Is it true you claimed a dragon?”

Finding no use in hiding information from them, you told the whole story, leaving out a few parts. You had been brought before the Queen, forced to answer for something you didn’t fully understand yourself. The dragon had come to your aid, and now you were bound to it.

“I knew it!” Alys flashed a smile. “It's those purple eyes of yours. You have to have been one of them."

You cast down your eyes, resenting the idea that that was how your friends now saw you now, as “them”.

As they helped you out of the bath and began dressing you in a new gown, your hands trembled slightly. The fabric of the corset was rich and luxurious, a deep black that clung to your body in a way that made you feel exposed. You had never worn anything like this before.

You cought a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The person staring back at you was unfamiliar—she was beautiful, but there was a hardness in her eyes, a reflection of the fear and uncertainty you had been carrying.

When they were finished, you looked down at the gown, running your fingers over the material.

The girls left, leaving you alone in your chamber. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but it wasn't easy. The pressure made your temples hurt, and you let out a frustrated groan, taking off the bracelets decorating your arms and discarding them on the table, then pulling your hair out of its intricate braids. You walked towards your window, the gown rustling as you leaned out to look down. Breathing heavily, you tried to measure the distance going down from your window to the dragon pit.

Someone cleared their throat behind you. You tensed and turned to the entrance of your chamber.

Jace stood at the door, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. He looked as composed as ever, but there was an accusation in his gaze—making you feel guilty for being caught on your second attempt to escape.

He didn’t speak as he approached you slowly, but the silence between you was heavy with unspoken words.

The gown had its intended effect. You felt both beautiful and vulnerable, aware of the way it accentuated your figure and the way Jace’s eyes lingered on you. The room was dimly lit, the torches casting long shadows along the stone walls.

Before you could react, you were pressed against the cold stone wall, Jace’s body pinning you in place. The breath was knocked out of you, your heart racing as you craned your neck to look up into his face.

“Leaving again, are we?” His expression was unreadable, a storm of emotions that you couldn’t begin to decipher.

“Jace,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “It isn't what—”

“Do not address me so casually,” he interrupted, his tone sharp, commanding. “I'm not a fool, Dragonseed." Sneering the cruel title.

His words stung, and you flinched, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “I apologize, my prince. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

He didn’t release you, his grip firm as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. His voice was low, almost a growl. “You may have a dragon now, but do not mistake that for power. You are still beneath us, and I will not tolerate any illusions you may have of free will. That includes escape, y/n.”

You swallowed hard. The proximity of his body, the force of his presence, sent a shiver down your spine.

“I never asked for any of this.” you said quietly, your voice shaking. “I never wanted to be anything other than what I was.”

“Then you are a fool,” he snapped, his hand tightening on your arm. “You don’t get to choose your fate. The blood in your veins, the dragon that saved you—they’ve chosen for you.”

His words cut deep, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You wouldn’t show weakness, not now, not to him. “And what do you want from me, Jacaerys? To obey? To bow down and accept whatever fate you and your family decide for me?”

His eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous crossing his features. “I want you to know your place,” he hissed, his voice like ice. “The queen has deemed it so that you are to train under my guidance. You belong to me now. Your loyalty, your obedience—you, are all mine to command.”

You were silent, your breath coming in short, shaky bursts as you processed his words. His dominance was overwhelming, and yet, there was something in his eyes—a flicker that hinted at the turmoil raging inside him.

Finally, he released you, stepping back but still blocking your path. “You will report to me in the morning,” he said, his tone hard and unyielding. “We will begin your training. And you will learn what it means to serve House Targaryen.”

Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you trembling against the wall, your mind a whirlwind of confusion. You had wanted to be close to him, to learn from him, but not like this.

And as you lay in bed that night, your mind replayed the moment over and over again, the warmth of his body against yours, the intensity of his gaze, the weight of his words, the heat of his breath against your skin...

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Tag list:

@staarflowerr

@zizouu23

@alessiaparigim

@ericasabe

@jacaeryvardaddy

@dracaryxzs

@rav9n-16

@alwaysdaydreamingoffiction

[ch6sos]

more nanami headcanons (but as your bf !!!)

a/n: hey everyone! thank you for all the support on my last headcanon post. i never really expected it to go far, but somehow it did. it was my first time ever posting a "fic" you know? i was cringing the entire time but it was worth it, for you guys :) since it did well, here is some more!

i used third person by the way so you're referred to as his partner. tried to make this as gender neutral as possible cuz i love you guys

cw: slight suggestiveness (ooooh... but it's not extreme you sillies)

Extreme gentleman. He respects their wishes all the time. If they want space, he will give it to them. He will give them whatever they ask for.

Pays on the first date. He forbids their significant other from doing anything. He will pay because he wants to. He truly wants to, not because he feels obligated to.

Would be kind of shy about doing anything at first, especially Teen!Nanami. Even after a long period of dating, he would always ask before showing affection because he does not know if they feel comfortable or okay with it.

"May I please hold your hand? Are you okay with that?

"...We've been dating for a month."

"I know, but, I must ask, you know? In case it makes you uncomfortable.”

When he (as well as they) grow comfortable, the affection begins to become more "intense." Not intense, but he does it more frequently. He holds their hand more, gives more kisses, more hugs...

He would give the best hugs. He is a cuddle machine. He appears to hate them, but does he truly? Exactly. No, he does not. He loves them so much. He wishes he could give up his job to spend the entire day cuddling with his partner.

"Stay close to me, please."

"I don't plan on moving."

"Good. I wish life were like this every day." He hums, squeezing them gently.

Kisses with him are never short; even if he is late. He never leaves his significant other hanging. He craves and desires to kiss them. He enjoys giving his partner a passionate kiss, drawing them near to his chest, and placing his hand behind their head, leaving a memory of the kiss that is warm, tender, and unforgettable.

Genuinely feels like he could share his emotions with his significant other. Yeah, he is still serious, because it's who he is. He was raised in a family surrounded by serious people. Though, throughout the relationship, he learns how to express his emotions better. He feels like he genuinely could reveal all the emotions he has stored in him already around his significant other. If he's feeling upset, he would genuinely express that to them. If something ticked him off, he would sit down and talk to his partner about it.

Despite all of that, he still is more of a listener than a rambler. He prefers putting others first before him, and that also goes for who gets to talk. He enjoys looking at their partner with a loving gaze, as they talk nonsense. Whether it is about the new show they picked up, their day, or the latest gossip, he loves listening.

He would write love letters. I do not care if you find that corny. He is corny. He will write love letters. Nanami is romantic. I don't care what anyone says he is a romance god who does not get to show it off as much. He loves writing lengthy letters, showing the love he has for his partner. Describes their personality and how much he cherishes them, how much he thinks they're beautiful, and how he thinks that they are the stars in the night sky that stand out.

Playing with his partner's hair is (one of) his favorite ways to show affection. If they have long hair, he loves to try styling it and ruffling it. If they have type 4 coily hair, he starts learning how to take care of it so he can try protective hairstyles on them.

Another thing is lazy Sundays. He loves Sundays. Even though he has to go to stupid work the next day. The sensation of them being in his arms when he wakes up, his arms encircling their bodies firmly, the sheets covering them. He enjoys gently leaning in to kiss their shoulders, the top of their head, and the back of their neck. When they began to stir, he pulled them closer— not wanting to get out of bed. All he wants is to spend Sunday morning in bed with his lovely partner.

Gets flushed at compliments, but it is not as obvious. When their significant other says he is handsome, he smiles softly and thanks them, but on the inside, he is freaking out.

Cooks breakfast in bed for them. Always. He loves getting up just to make his significant other the tastiest breakfast ever; it is his specialty. He prepares a warm beverage and some fruit-flavored crepes topped with Nutella and whipped cream.

Before meeting them, Nanami was kind of an insomniac. He would not sleep; hence why he has dark circles. But after meeting them, he started sleeping more. Despite everything, he continues to get up before his partner to prepare breakfast for them.

Not only that but when he was stressed, he would drink his sorrows away rather than confide in someone. Since the fan book claims that he enjoys drinking, I think that, unfortunately, one of his coping mechanisms is doing exactly that. However, since meeting them, he has kept everything under control. He learned to express himself more freely and genuinely strives to avoid suppressing his emotions.

Bro is a simp. His mouth drops when he sees his partner dressed. His jaw falls to the floor. He is stuttering a bit too. I know he is supposed to be calm and collected but he would NOT be calm and collected around his significant other, people. He would go feral and be a simp for them.

He says I love you first. It was quite unexpected and seemed to come out of nowhere. He just blurted it out without waiting for the perfect moment or anything else. It was probably a simple morning, cuddling with him on the bed as usual, looking at each other fondly, and he said, "You know how much I adore you, right?"

When he realizes what he is saying, his eyes widen slightly, but then crinkle up when they tell him they love him as well.

He will do whatever his partner says. They could be 5'2 or around his height; he is a certified simp who immediately attends to their partner's needs.

Even if that includes forcibly doing silly TikTok trends. He pretends to hate it but he doesn't. He is a munch or whatever Ice Spice said.

He enjoys nuzzling his partner. Guys, I do not care. This man is a bundle of love wrapped up in a stoic-looking man. He enjoys sneaking up behind them, entrapping them in his arms, and nuzzling their neck and the top of their head. Wherever he wants, whenever he wants. And he utters sweet nothings. And leaves tiny, delicate kisses. He also wraps his arms around their waist.

He sometimes becomes overwhelmed, so he requires his own space. However, he does not simply distance himself from his partner. He properly expresses that sometimes he needs his own space. He still adores them but also needs some space. He does not want to cause conflict or misunderstanding because he is not that type of person.

Will be there for them when they are sick, even if they believe they look disgusting. He does not care; he believes they are the most beautiful sight he has ever seen in his entire life (which was cut short) (sorry, I am still coping). He will be there to care for them whether they are throwing up, crying, or whatever.

He cooks for them, he gives them medicine, he cuddles them even though he knows he may get sick...

And he does. Every single time. And he acts like a baby too.

Adorable tall, strong man Nanami acts like a baby when he's sick. He needs to be looked after completely. He starts off coughing (like a grandfather or a father). So his cough is obnoxious and loud, and he frowns. He then looks up at his partner, his expression reminiscent of a puppy who has been denied treats. It is an adorable sight. It's a turnaround from his usual chill demeanor. He then spends the entire day in bed, despite his attempts to do his routine tasks like cleaning and cooking for them, which they forbid. And he pouts about it like a big baby.

"Please let me take care of you. You took care of me, so now it's my turn."

"No, you're sick, Kento."

"That doesn't matter." He frowns.

“You always take care of me anyway.”

“But it is my honor to take care of you, my love.”

and then they end up having seven mental breakdowns

If they bring home a stray one day, he is reluctant on taking it but you know damn well he'd be like one of those dads that is hesitant about taking it at first but then ends up cuddling it the next day and then begging for them to not take it to the shelter.

Genuine sweetheart. Holds the door for their significant other, makes arrangements for them when they can not find the time, prepares meals for them, and if they come from a different culture, he starts to learn about it, particularly if they are involved in it.

...This guy is in no way aggressive. I have seen people mischaracterize him as a dominant "daddy" or whatever because he is serious, and Mappa blessed us with the hair-pulling scene. That scene was primarily caused by rage at Haruta's thoughtless harm to those around him and the fact that the man was going against two young girls. He would never act in such a way toward their partner, particularly when they were in bed. He is more of a gentle lover and is afraid of going too far.

Needs are needs, so if they ask, he will comply with some hesitation. He never seemed to get into it, so he tells them that.

That does not mean he is not into some stuff. Bro be praising. He praises hella and talks them through it.

"My love, doing so well for me."

"So beautiful, so gorgeous, all sprawled out for me like this."

“You’re mine. Until the end of time, angel.”

“God. My love, my everything. You drive me wild, you know that?”

“Eyes on me, sweetheart. Want to see how breathtaking you are from here.” All in his deep, ragged and needy voice.

that made me cringe

help I'm crying at the cringe so sorry

His favorite dates with them involve going to a restaurant. Nanami knows some hidden gems, so he enjoys taking them to restaurants where they can eat delicious food. Being a food enthusiast, it goes without saying that he is aware of the good and bad places to go. Because of Nanami's exquisite taste, they have never had to worry about their food.

As I previously stated, he prefers traditional nicknames such as sweetheart, my love, darling, angel, and beloved. I do not see him calling his significant other "baby," "baby girl," or whatever; I believe he finds it cringe-worthy. This is self-indulgent oops.

Sings softly to them while they are sleeping. He sings a song while they are sleeping because he is too ashamed of his singing. His vocals are not bad; he is just shy. (Little did he know, they had several recordings of him singing in secret...)

He will sacrifice his blanket in bed just to wrap it around his partner if they're cold. Bro would give them 90004868787893 pillows, and 8 blankets if they said they were cold.

He exaggerates things. And when I say he exaggerates, I mean he goes to great lengths to win his partner over. If they enter a new niche, he buys *everything*. On date nights, he gives them large bouquets if they like that, and he treats them as if they were royalty.

"You didn't need to get me this entire figure collection from *series*... I feel so bad."

"Well, do not worry, I enjoy buying these things for you. I see how happy you are, and it immediately warms my heart.”

Arguments with him are not bad. He truly never gets upset to the point of yelling because that is not who he is—he is not a guy who yells and he does not want to cause trauma to people in general. Again, though, he seems composed, and it might be frightening. But he then does something right away that causes his partner to instantly give in. Bro could just breathe and they're like "OKAY" and yeah. I understand. I would fold so hard bro.

His love languages include quality time and acts of service. He loves spending every single second with his partner and is immediately angry at the world when he has to work overtime and can not have more time with them. He enjoys taking them on dates or simply staying at home on lazy days. He loves spending time with them. Furthermore, he expresses his love by doing things for his partner, such as assisting them with their work (if he could), giving them massages when they are stressed, cooking for them all the time, washing their dishes even when they beg him not to, eating the olives off of their plate if there are any... He is the king of acts of service.

He is not good at taking pictures. His large thumb keeps covering the lens, so they have to force him to take the pictures repeatedly. Despite this, he never becomes irritated because he gets butterflies just watching his partner pose in their gorgeous clothes.

Speaking of photos, he already had an Instagram account beforehand. (As much as he hates to admit it, Gojo is sometimes the one who takes the aesthetic photos on his page.) He was not active, but he has a few posts on it, but as soon as they got a partner, oh lord Jesus. Bro will post on his Instagram story every single second.

Even though this happens, he prefers to make his relationship private. Private but known, you know? He wants the world to know that he is lucky enough to date them, but still not reveal information or talk about his relationship to anyone. So he would take those private but not secret type relationship photos.

Captions are always complimenting them and are extremely poetic. He's just that guy.

"saw a breathtaking sight. the beach is also there."

“every aspect of you captivates me, body and soul.”

"we are all floating around with the stars and the universe, and it somehow led me to you."

cringes again

Off-topic but not, Nanami would NEVER, and I mean... NEVER, go for his student if he was a professor, even if their relationship is legal. I can't stand it when people do that. He understands that there's a power dynamic behind it and it's low-key creepy how much people enjoy it.

Along with stepcest. Why do so many of you like stepcest? Nanami is not touching any of his family members. I'm scared to say this and this is probably hella controversial for this app but he's not touching anyone even if they're not technically related.

Age gap too. He would not date someone extremely younger than him. He is not going to be 40 and dating a 19-year-old. I just can't see it.

Other than that, he does not have any preferences when it comes to appearance. He has turn-offs, but not in terms of appearance. He could care less about what someone looks like.

In terms of personality, he dislikes negative people. He despises that. He would feel guilty if he became involved with someone unconcerned about the world. He also dislikes immaturity and pettiness.

He prefers people who bring positivity into his life, you know? Someone much more outgoing than he is, but still a mature person with whom he could relate. The more extroverted they are the more they bring out of him. As long as they're not so overwhelming to him.

Even so, he simply enjoys people for their kindness and consideration. How willing they are, how passionate and motivated they are. He simply wants someone who is driven by their goals.

Texts them dad memes he found on Facebook.

“Look at it, it’s funny.”

“...lol”

“You laughed at least a little bit right?

“...No?”

“Okay. I apologize :(“

LAUGH AT HIS FACEBOOK MEMES PLEASE. THEY ARE NOT THAT BAD PLEASE.

When he met their family, he appeared calm and collected, but he was nervous. He was fidgety on the way to their house, something he had only ever done in high school. He experiences anxiety about whether he would be accepted by them or whether he would be good enough.

“Wow, I have never seen you this fidgety before.”

"I apologize. It’s just… What your family might think worries me. I am not sure if I will meet their expectations. I simply want to let them know how much I genuinely adore you for who you are and how much I want to be yours forever."

And they are like ??? because this man is perfect? He is the dream man anyone could ever ask for.

Do not take this man mini golfing bro he sucks ass… I know you guys think just because he is partly white he will immediately be good at golf but no. He sucks ass.

He would be protective, but not excessively so. He is devoted to his partner and will intervene quickly if someone upsets them, intimidating them with his composed demeanor.

"I advise you to distance yourself from them before I regretfully have to take action, okay? We wouldn’t want that, right?” Dumbledore says, calmly. While puffing out his chest. And mewing. And mogging. Whatever that means.

Okay fine, he will watch Jersey Shore, The Real Housewives, Love & Hip-Hop, etc with them. Pretends to hate it but he is invested.

Imagine just going to the bedroom and just seeing him in his reading glasses, sitting up against the headboard, immersed in the book in front of him. The only thing he has on is a simple white tee that does justice to his figure and pajama pants.

Yup feral.

Tries to get into the things their partner likes just so he can understand when they yap about certain things. He just wants them to talk about everything to him. He finds it adorable.

Allows their partner to give him a skincare treatment. He then begins to do it himself. Well, he would only use one product—a cleanser. That being said, he started using toner, serum, and other skincare products. And, yes, he allows them to put ridiculously cute facemasks on his face. And the cute little star pimple patches.

Do not take that man ice skating or rollerblading either. He would be so hesitant on going because he sucks at it. He just goes because his significant other told him to. He fell immediately.

“This sucks.”

“Stop sulking and hold my hand.”

“...You don’t even need to ask.” He says, all giddy.

Please show him the love and care he deserves.

When he works out he will flex on them on purpose. He thinks it is all funny to be all yummy. It is NOT funny.

Yup, he does push-ups while they’re underneath, each time he goes down he gives them a peck.

Yeah so imagine that with him in his compression shirt and shorts…

I could read your mind, people. You are not slick.

This man will not let his significant other have insecurities. He is the type to leave notes all over the bathroom, and every mirror, with encouraging words. Praising their looks and more. Plus he shows in…other ways (wink) how much he appreciates how beautiful he thinks they are.

If they are unhappy, he will truly be devastated. He is miserable when he sees them upset, so he does everything in his power to cheer them up. Whether that’s cooking something for them, taking care of them, trying to make them laugh, getting them something from the store, or sitting down and talking to them about their problems, he needs to make them feel happy.

When he drives, he would not put his hand on his partner’s thigh. He would much rather grab their hand, and put it on his lap, as he listens to them hum along to the radio. He purposely moves the mirror slightly toward them, just so he can see how pretty they are through the mirror. He also looks at them with a slight smile at every stop-light, occasionally leaving small pecks on their face.

Does not mind if they steal his clothes. Go on then silly. He could care less. He thinks it’s cute as hell.

Would teach them how to do things. For example, he will teach them to play an instrument if they do not already, especially if he knows how. He looks like a lovesick fool as he watches them replicate what he did. Unable to resist the urge, he kisses them without reason.

“What was that for?”

"I could not hold back. You are very tempting."

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yes. You are everything I think about and want."

Butterflies all around people.

His only red flag is that sometimes he may prioritize work over his relationship. He unfortunately gets into the stress of work and begins to grind more at work. Call him out and he gets back into his senses.

Buys more storage space for his Samsung S24 Ultra to retrieve more pictures of them. His camera roll is nearly full. Just because of his significant other, his camera roll increased from roughly 150 images to over 13,000 images.

When he comes home from work, he immediately collapses on the couch or their shared bed, on top of them. He then looks like a sleepy puppy.

“Someone’s tired.”

“I hate overtime.”

“I know you do. I cooked something for you.”

“I could have just cooked for the both of us…”

“But I knew you’d come all tired from work. So no.”

“That doesn't matter, you know? I love taking care of you. Just to see that pretty smile on your face.” He pouts, once again.

He ends up making it up to them. You can interpret that however you want.

As soon as this man sees them in formal attire (or in general) it is OVER. His jaw is on the bottom of the earth, his eyes are slightly widened, a blush on his face.

“I have no words. God, I don't know how someone could get even more impossibly perfect, yet here you are, darling. No matter how many times I see you, you still manage to take my breath away.”

yup heart attack

Prepare for so many compliments daily. He talks like a true romance book. None of that Colleen Hoover stuff.

Talks about his partner like a true gentleman. He's not like those types of guys who just talk about their significant other as if they're his property. No. He talks about them as if they are an art piece.

Overall, he just loves his partner so, so much. He expresses it in a variety of ways, from taking care of them—to telling them every single second of the day. In his own words,

"Your presence in my life is like a breath of fresh air, keeping my heart full and content. I love you more than anyone could ever fathom, and I promise you, you have my heart for eternity."

i love him </3 NANMINPLEAEE BE RELALRHABADHDJSKDHSNEB

[grimesproperty]

“ FRIENDS “

where you're a new kook at the boneyard. the pogues end up finding you all alone, especially a blonde-blue-eyed hot-tempered one.

jj maybank x reader

—

You're a kook, new to the outer banks, checking out the boneyard--littered with Pogues, Kooks, and tourons alike-- for the first time.

In the distance, JJ's busy surfing and hanging out with his friends, maneuvering along the crashing waves like it's second nature to him. Rays of the afternoon sun high in the sky are reflected onto the shimmering water, and the scent of seawater wafting by.

"Dude, check it out,' John B says to him, nodding over his shoulder in your direction. "A newbie."

"Looks like a tourist," Pope mutters. "What makes you so sure?" Sarah asks.

"Tourons always look lost. That's how you can tell them apart from Kooks and Pogues,' Pope responds crossing his arms. Meanwhile, JJ's gaze flicked over where you stood, his curiosity piqued as he observed you with a tilted head.

You were sitting on the sand, lying on top of your towel, a book in your hands and your bag placed next to you.

JJ watches you briefly, intrigued by your composure as you sit quietly, reading your book. He can't help but be intrigued by your arrival. "Hey, I'm gonna greet the new fish," He suddenly speaks up.

"Be careful," Kiara murmurs, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "I'll be on my best behavior," He replied with a cheeky grin.

Without wasting any more time, JJ stands up, patting the excess sand from his shorts. He approached with a casual air about him, his blue gaze fixed on you as he saunters up until he was just a few feet away from where you are sitting, hands in his pockets.

"Hey, you're new around, yeah?" He says conversationally, his eyes raking over you, "First time at the boneyard?" He stops a couple feet from you, a charming smile on his face.

You look up from your book, JJ's smile grows when you look up, his gaze taking in your facial features and your choice of clothes, mentally deducing whether you were a pogue, kook, or touron.

"Is it that obvious?" You said to him, jj cocks his head to the side, a flicker of humor in his eyes as he says, "Well you're not a kook, I can tell you that much. You look too... how'd I describe it.... too authentic. Which leads me to think you are either a pogue or a touron."

"Neither?" You answered confusingly, jj quirked an eyebrow at your response, perplexed by your answer. He glances around at his friends, who watch your conversation with curiosity and interest before looking back at you.

"Neither?" he questions, skepticism lacing his voice. "So, what are you then? A lost soul?"

"Nah, just moved here from New York." You replied to him with a small smile.

JJ let out a low whistle, a smirk on his lips. "From New York? What, did you get bored of the East Coast and decide to check out the south instead?"

You let out a laugh, and said to him "It's not so fun over there." JJ hums in response, shoving his hands in his short pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.

"I can't admit it's any better here," He admits with a shrug, his smile growing sly, "Although it's bound to be with me and my friends around."

"It doesn't seem all too bad, even though I just moved here I don't really know anybody besides my family." You say to him, JJ's expression softens a little at your words, his eyes flickering with recognition--

"Yeah, that can't feel too great," he says, crossing his arms, "but what kind of person would I be if I let a new face be lonely around here?"

You shrugged at him with a smile. JJ returns your smile with a grin of his own, amused by your nonchalance to his remark. He glances at his friends, their eyes still on the two of you.

"Why don't you join us then?" He suggests, "I'm JJ by the way, and I can guarantee there's never a dull moment with the Pogues."

"I'm Y/n, it's nice to meet you JJ, short for??" You questioned, JJ chuckled at your question, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. "Short for Jackson," He answers his smile still in place. "But JJ's more badass than Jackson, don't ya think?"

"Agreed." You replied, "You got a decent taste," he comments, his eyes sparkling with approval. "So, what do you say Y/n? Ready to meet the crew?"

"Are you sure they won't mind me you know..." You said looking over to where the group of pogues were standing in the water with their surfboards.

"Nah, they won't mind," He reassures you, waving a hand. "They'd be idiots if they did anyway," He gestures towards the group with a nudge of his head. "Come on, let's go. I'll introduce ya."

"Alright, I guess..." You said as you got up.

--

Over time, you become an integral part of the pogue group, spending countless hours laughing, joking, and exploring the beaches with them. You feel a strong bond with each one of them, and they consider you one of their own now. They tell you everything and include you in all their plans and shenanigans.

Meanwhile, you had gotten a job at the wreck which has become a second home to you. You've made good friends with everyone there, including regular customers.

Throughout your time as Pogue, you particularly grew close to jj. The two of you quickly became best friends, spending more and more time together, and sharing secrets and confiding in each other.

Behind the scenes, you harbored secret feelings for him, though you kept it to yourself, not wanting to ruin the strong friendship you'd built.

Jj on the other hand, seemed blissfully unaware of your hidden feelings, his actions consistently sending mixed signals. His casual touches which seemed intimate, the way he always found excuses to be near you, the subtle flirting--

all of it seemed genuine and unintentional, yet it only served to confuse your emotions even more.

Every time he touched you, smiled at you or made flirty comments, your heart would pound, and butterflies would flutter in your stomach, but you tried your best to keep your cool and maintain the friendship. As much as you wanted to show some concrete interest, you also feared rejection.

You found yourself caught in a constant battle between holding on to the precious friendship you shared and securely hoping for it to turn into something more.

Things then suddenly came to a halt when you found yourself in a new relationship with a kook. Despite your lingering feelings for jj, you chose to move on and give this new relationship a chance.

However, JJ wasn't thrilled about it. He made it clear he didn't approve of your kook boyfriend, but he never outright said why.

As you began dating him, you noticed a growing distance between you and JJ. He wasn't as friendly or casual with you anymore, and he often seemed grumpy and irritable around you.

This shift in your JJ's behavior only confused and hurt you even more. You had no idea why he was acting this way, and you missed the closeness and comfort you two once shared. As you grew distant from jj, your feelings resurfaced, and your new relationship--

paled in comparison to what you felt for him. You couldn't help but wonder if there was more to JJ's reaction than he was letting on.

--

As you approached the Chateau, the sun was beginning to set, casting a beautiful glow over the surroundings. You could see John B and jj on their boat, which was tied up at the dock.

They were both sitting in the boat, deep in conversation. not noticing your arrival yet.

You paused, uncertainty and nervousness coursing through you. You didn't know if it was the right time to approach them. Maybe they needed some time alone, or perhaps you were intruding.

Your mind buzzed with conflicting thoughts, causing brief hesitation. Thats when you finally got the courage and made your way over to them onto the dock. "Hey you two!" you called out.

John B and jj, in the middle of their conversation, looked up as they heard your voice. John B flashed a friendly smile, while JJ's expression remained stoic and unreadable, his usual grin nowhere in sight.

You couldn't help but feel a pang in your chest as you saw JJ's stoic expression. It was different from his friendly grins and casual banter he greeted you with. A small part of you hoped to see his familiar smile, but alas, it was no where in sight.

"Kiara told me to meet you guys here," You said to them. John B nods gesturing for you to come closer. "Yeah, we were just talking about the party tonight."

Meanwhile, JJ remains a bit distant, his arms crossed and his expression still lacking the usual warmth.

"She's not here yet?" You asked John b, he shook his head, a slightly annoyed expression on his face. "No, she said she was on her way. You know she's always late."

You made an 'oh, I know.' expression on your face, "yeah, you're right about that," you said agreeing. John B chuckles, clearly used to Kiara's tardiness by now, but JJ remains quiet. He seems a bit withdrawn, his hands clenching the edge of the boat slightly.

"So boneyard tonight, huh?" you said trying to make conversation. John b nods, his eyes looking out over the water.

"yeah, most likely, just the usual crew and other people," John B says, jj remains silent, but there's a tinge of irritation in his eyes. He seems uncomfortable with this conversation for some reason.

"Your boyfriend gonna be there tonight with his slick back and kook friends?" John B teased you, his comment about your boyfriend only seems to further irritate jj and he scowls slightly.

You can see his grip on the edge of the boat tighten, his knuckles turning white. "I don't know, I haven't talked to him today, " you replied to John B tearing your gaze away from JJ.

"Yeah, he's probably got more important things to do with fellow kooks, " John B comments, clearly still enjoying teasing you.

JJ lets out a scoff, his irriation growing, he muttered under his breath, "More like he's too busy stroking his ego."

John B grins at jj’s comment, finding it amusing, but you can see it only serves to irritate JJ even more. A tense silence hangs heavily in the air, the awkwardness between you and JJ almost palpable.

You roll your eyes at JJ's attitude, "Hey John B can you give us a minute to talk real quick?" you say turning to him. John B raises an eyebrow, clearly sensing the tension between you and JJ for a moment before nodding.

"Yeah, sure I'll go check on Pope and Sarah." He says before he gets up from the boat and walks away, leaving you alone with JJ. Now you two sitting alone on the boat, jj still has his arms crossed and his face expressionless.

The silence between you two becomes even more intense as the sun continues to sink below the horizon.

You finally speak up, "Okay. Im getting sick of this shit, Seriously what's your problem?!" you say your voice coming out harsher than you expected.

JJ's eyes snap up to meet yours, He looks surprised by your confrontational tone, but after a moment, he lets out a scoff. "What, I'm not allowed to have a problem now?"

"Not if you don't communicate what your deal is with me, then yes!" You snap back at him, JJ's expression hardens further, defensiveness seeping into his voice-

"You're the one to talk about communication. You've been avoiding me since you got that kook boyfriend of yours."

You let out a disbeliefed laugh, "Are you serious right now?" you said to him. JJ's expression remains unchanged, his irritation flaring up. "Yeah, I'm serious. Do you think I haven't noticed how distant you've been since that guy came into the picture? Don't act all innocent now."

You stood up now from where you were sitting, "You've been avoiding me, ever since I started seeing him! You claim you don't like him because he's a kook! But is that really the only reason?!" you paused before finishing what you had to say. "You're my best friend jay. It's not fucking nice seeing you be like this to me for no reason! when I've done nothing but always be fucking there for you!"

You shouted at him, your voice cracking a bit at the raw emotions you let out. "I'm done with this shit." You said as u began to walk off the boat.

JJ watches you as you walk off the boat, his expression wavering between surprise and frustration. He opens his mouth as he wants to say something, but no words come out.

He grips the edge of the boat even tighter, his jaw clenched and knuckles changing colors. The sound of your footsteps grows faint as you walk away, leaving jj alone on the boat.

He lets out a huff, frustrated and conflicted, the boat creaking softly beneath him.

part two here

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You've had a crush on your best friend for years, but you're slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: nice to see ya again!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Thor makes himself as permanent as the layers of sediment. Whether you’re in the dirt or looking over the charts and maps, making notes or sorting through your findings, he appears. Knowing he’ll be there keeps you coming yourself. Despite the short nights and long drives, thinking of him finding an empty site deters you from a day off, even against Sam’s pleas. 

The night before was filled with similar chiding from your friend. Sam is as persistent as ever. He always has a new account of his antics with Bucky and never forgets to tell you to take a break. You can’t stop though. You know if you do, you’ll have to think about everything you’re denying. 

The time away has given you time to breathe but it’s suffocated you in new ways. Along with that weight on your chest that has a name, there’s another you can’t quite understand. The one that sees you spending your spare hours alone and your working hours longing for anything but. You’re desperate to get out but terrified of the very same. 

When he arrives that day, you’re ready to give up. The tension in the air is giving you a headache and the dampness makes your skin feel sticky. You just feel gross. 

“Ah, I didn’t think you’d brave the weather today,” he muses as Thunder hops around his feet. You don’t look up, in a mood as grim as the sky. “You’d do well to stay in tomorrow. Trust me.” 

He’s always right about the weather. It must be the familiarity and yet it’s almost eerie how accurate he is. You might take his advice. You don’t like being wet and you’re starting to go cross-eyed from the hours and hours of concentration. 

Thunder yipes as you use your gloves to brush away clumps of dirt. Thor’s footsteps mulch patches of grass that sparsely carpet the dirt. He hums as his shadows looms in your peripheral. 

“Yes, my darling, I believe you’ve found the perfect spot,” he praises. 

You look over curiously. What is he talking about? You only notice then that he has more than the tiny dog with him. He has a basket on his elbow and a blanket under his arm. You sit up and watch him place down the former and shake out the latter.  

He spreads the blanket over the dirt and Thunder jumps onto it, rolling around on the fabric, digging her nose into the patched quilt as she wiggles across it. You clap off your hands and watch him as he gets down to his knees and flips open one side of the basket. He lays out several containers and two thermos’; one is the very same he brought you tea in.  

“I thought you could use a nice lunch before the weather turns,” he stands and nears the fence, “summer doesn’t last long here. You may as well enjoy it.” 

“Lunch?” You utter. 

“Brunch?” He suggest coyly. “Surely you can take a break. You are only human, you need to eat.” 

“You...” you lean to see around him, “you brought me lunch?” 

“I know it isn’t the most elaborate picnic but I thought it might be a pleasant surprise. I must confess I’ve been rather bored these days,” he admits, “so?” 

“Thor, that’s so... sweet,” you frown, “but...” 

“Work, work, work. Surely they can’t expect you to work yourself to the bone, pardon the pun,” he insists, “it will only be a bit.” 

“Yes, but...” you leave the sentence to hang. You don’t have a good excuse. You don’t know. It just makes you nervous. It’s a whole lot of effort for just you.  

“Oh, I don’t mind if you would rather stay over there. Only mean more for, eh, Thunder?” He asks the canine tramping around the blanket. “More than happy to sit here and enjoy my jelly cookies and hot coffee. 

“Coffee?” Your brows raise. 

“Freshly brewed. Promise, There’s nothing pickled. Though I don’t mind a nice herring,” he grins. 

Thunder bounces over and barks at you. She stands on her hind legs as she paws at the barrier between you. Now, how can you deny her? 

You stand and shed your gloves. You carry them over to the table beneath the tent and grab a wet wipe from the back. You come back under the open sky as you wipe your hands. 

“Sorry about all the dirt,” you scoff as you cross the dirt. 

“I don’t mind,” he assures you. He pulls apart the panels of the fence to let you through. It isn’t something you could ever forget but you can’t help but be stricken again by his sheer size. 

You bend to pet Thunder as she gets between your feet. She licks your fingers and you giggle. She’s cute. 

“Go on, pick her up,” Thor goads, “she loves it.” 

You scoop up the dog and stand. She squirms as she wags her tail incessantly. She swipes your chin with her tongue and you scrunch up your face. You carry her to the blanket and look over the spread. A leafy salad, pasta salad, sandwiches, cookies... There’s so much. Your protein bars and peanut butter and jelly can’t compare. 

“Oh gosh, this... a lot.” 

“Is it? Isn’t too much. We’re friends, yes?” 

“Friends?” You face him as you pet Thunder’s soft head. 

“Perhaps it is rather one-sided. You are obligated to be here, I just sort of haunt this place,” he chuckles. 

“No, no, friends,” you smile, “that sounds about right.” 

You turn away and lower yourself onto the blanket, sure to keep your boots off of it, as you hide your face. There’s a tinge of disappointment. You hear a far off echo in your head. How many times did Steve say the same; we’re friends, just friends, you’re such a good friend. Well, that’s all this is. No need to be so sensitive. 

“Do you ever take time off?” He asks as he gets to his knees. 

You look at him as you put Thunder down. He barely keeps her from chomping down on a rye crust. He lifts her easily and she kicks her legs. 

“Eh, you beast,” he points a finger at her snout, “be good.” 

He sets her back on her paws and she obeys. He tells her to sit and she does so. Her eyes continue to hungrily rove over the food. How can he resist them? 

“Like you said, the weather won’t last. Should get done what I can before the ground gets cold.” 

“Ah, yes, that is a concern,” he tuts, “how would you deal with that?” 

“Heat lamps, tiger torch... jackhammer if I really need but I’d have to put in a request for that...” you hadn’t thought too much into the inevitability of winter.  

“Ah, that’s...” he smirks, “I’m sorry but the idea of you with a jackhammer,” he snorts. 

“Hey,” you pout. 

“It isn’t to be mean but... you’re so gentle. When you dig, you’re so delicate about it.” 

“Am I?” You wonder. 

“Mm, is it a bit weird to say so?” He wonders aloud. “Yes, you are very precise, very cautious.” He takes out a set of plates and offers you one, “please, help yourself.” 

“It must be boring watching. Really, I’m the one digging and it gets dull,” you accept and pluck out one of the sandwiches. Salmon, you think. 

“You make it interesting,” he muses. “You talk to the bones.” 

“I talk to the bones?” You repeat, “what?” 

“Yes, I suppose you’re not aware of it. But your lips move when you’re focused. As if you’re chatting up the dirt,” he chuckles, “sometimes a few words do slip out.” 

“They do?” You blanch before you can help yourself to the salad. 

“You don’t say much. Usually something about the dishes, I’m not too sure.” 

“You never mentioned,” you look away shyly. 

“It’s... cute,” he shrugs. 

“You mean crazy,” you shake your head. 

“I say what I mean,” he counters. “No use in not. We can’t be happy if we’re not honest, not least of all with ourselves.” 

You’re quiet as you turn your attention to your plate. His words feel sharp despite his placid tone. You know it’s only because they’re true, especially for you. If you’d just accepted everything sooner, if you hadn’t been so dumb, if you hadn’t been so emotional, it would never have gotten so bad. No, if you’d just been honest. 

“I hope... I hope that didn’t come off wrong,” he says. 

“No, no, I’m... this all looks so good and I’m starving,” you assure him as you sit back with your plate. “Thank you again. This is... great.” 

“Well, I was thinking, you must miss your friends. I might be a paltry substitute but I thought i might fill that gap, even just for an hour.” 

“It’s really...” your eyes tingle but you push away the tinge of sadness, “it’s really nice.” 

“So tell me,” he scoops up salad onto his plate, “tell me about home.” 

“I...” you begin, surprised by the prompt. “It’s just home. New York. It’s busy and loud. Not like here.” 

“No, not that. Your friends. I want to know all about them. If I’m ever going to come up standards, I’ve got to know the competition.” 

You laugh. He speaks as if he needs to impress you. It’s nice to be somewhere where no one knows you’re not that special. You take a bite of the sandwich and chew, thinking out your question.  

You swallow, “well, my friend Sam, he calls every night to bitch at me. He’s great. Supportive but pushy. He likes to terrorise Bucky. He’s the strong and silent type, you know? Grumpy to boot but they’re... they’re awesome.” You smile without thinking, “before I left, they took me to this cocktail bar...” you blow out between your lips and roll your eyes, “real girly stuff.” 

“Ooh, cocktails. I’ve been known to indulge. I love finding new recipes.” 

“Really?” 

“Oh, yes, I love the sweet ones. I’ve only just perfected my blueberry basil concoction. I’m afraid I can’t share the secret ingredient unfortunately.” 

“Blueberry?” You ponder the flavour, “sounds yummy.” 

“Perhaps one day you can try it,” he suggest. 

“Maybe,” you say evasively. “Anyway, yeah, Sam and Bucky are... characters.” 

“They sound like it. How’d you meet?” 

“Oh, it’s boring. What about you?” 

“It’s not my turn,�� he deflects, “tell me.” 

You don’t know why he cares. It’s as confounding as everything else about him. You still don’t get why he’s here watching you sit in the dirt. It sounds as grueling as watching a golfing tournament, in your opinion. Yet here he is, a man who looks like that, staring at you in your mud-stained khakis. 

“College. We met through a mutual friend,” you explain vaguely. 

“Ah, so you’ve been friends for some time. Yes, I see, I’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” he hums thoughtfully as he toys with the braid that hangs loose by his face, the rest of his hair twisted back as always. 

“Steve,” you say without thinking, your eyes drifting off into the distance, “he was my best friend. We met in art history. We spent almost every day together. Studying, whatever. He was more of a partier than me but... fifteen years, more than, and we saw each other...” You choke on your words and scoff darkly, “sorry, that’s... I’m homesick, I think.” 

You bat away the glaze in your eyes and focus on your food. You take a few bites as he sits quietly. Thunder stands up cautiously and crosses the blanket. She settles against your leg, leaning her head on your thigh. It’s comforting. 

“Yes, I think I would be very homesick as well. I lived in the city for a while but mother and father, they need me. And I love this mountain. It’s home. There was nothing in Oslo for me. I can work from here.” 

“Work? What exactly do you do?” You ask, happy to divert from your own painful past. “Oo, are you like a farmer? Or a shepherd. There must be sheep up here or something.” 

He laughs, “there are some sheep, yes, but those are protected by the government. We’ve not much of a choice where they settle. No, I’m not so savvy as all that.” 

“Hm, you... oh, what could do you here?” You look around, “on a mountain... oh, tours? Do you give tours?” 

He laughs, “it’s not a bad idea, but no. I’m a business owner.” 

“A business. You must sell fitness or something.” 

“Must I?” He narrows his eyes, “and what else do you assume about me?” 

“Oh, it’s only you’re so...” you cringe as you eke out the word, “big?” 

“Genetics,” he affirms, “not that but close, in a matter of looking at it. You recall that tea I brought you, with the cloudberry?” 

“Uh, yeah, it was sweet. Yummy.” 

“I’m happy you enjoyed it,” he smiles proudly, “I make superblends. All Nordic ingredients. There is a demand for wellness and organic products. I found the right niche and I’ve not done too badly.” 

“Must not if you can live all the way up here,” you remark. 

“Yes, but... it’s a reason I moved back. Business is a lonely venture. Now I’ve got it all figured out, I have my managers and my business plan, I break even, I realise how much I put to the side,” he mulls his sandwich and takes a glum bite. It’s the first time you’ve seen him anything but bright and beaming, “I feel like I’ve fallen behind. Like I’m playing catch up.” 

His words sink in and storm inside of you. You crunch on the crisp lettuce and gulp. You wipe your mouth with a napkin and clear your throat. 

“I know exactly what you mean,” you say breathily. 

“Do you? You’re out here, on an adventure all you’re own, how brave,” his voice is wistful and his gray blue eyes reminds you of the clouds above. 

“Yes, I know,” you say, “better than you. Trust me.” 

You smile, a bittersweet tug in your cheeks, and he stares back at you. Your eyes cling to each other and you feel as if the world is moving around you. He smiles and a glimmer of something unfurls in your chest. You make yourself look away. 

“Well,” you push the salad around your plate, “what about you? You must have friends, aside from the girl in the dirt.” 

He hums and scrapes up a bite of the pasta salad. He takes his time chewing before he answers. You scratch Thunder’s nose as she sniffs at your plate. 

“Yes, if you ever come to sample my cocktails, you might meet a few,” he coaxes, “I think you’d get along. Hogan and Vol, and Fandy. All good company. Sif’s not around so often when my brother’s around but he’s as fleeting as the sun.” He tuts, “I would call Loki a friend as well but he does scowl at the very thought.” 

“Loki?” 

“My brother of course,” he explains with , “yes, he is quite the dour one. He might get along with that Bucky.” 

[jolalibrary]

up sky, low high

frankie morales x f!reader | frankie morales masterlist

summary: frankie takes you on a heli-ride. you decide to test his competency and take him for a ride.

word count: 1.9k warnings: smut. 18+. there's mouth to cock action in the sky - new kink for jo? maybe. jo's interpretation of how to fly a heli is deffo a warning in itself. everyone is safe. remember he's a professional, but don't try this in the air bbys. jo’s spelling—written on phone, forgive me. moodboard not reflective of reader. an: this wouldn't be possible without @morallyinept who not only thotted with me, told me to write this, filled me with confidence at the halfway point when i sent it to her but also made the prettiest banner and moodboard for this (see at the bottom). babe ily, thank you so much for this.

It’s not ideal—not even close to safe.

Finger pushing in on the button that releases the elements of your seatbelt as you swallow, staring at him. Gawking, in fact.

Frankie always looks good, a fact not fiction.

Whether it’s first thing in the morning, sleep in his eyes—fingers scratching over his soft stomach as he yawns. Or when his eyes are hidden under the bill of his hat, dark, all mahogany brown pupils blown with lust as the thing on the television becomes forgotten.

And while he does always look incredible, there’s something criminal about the way he looks right now. Piloting, all in his element, wearing fucking competency like he was the one who first birthed it as he keeps the helicopter in the air.

Short flight, he’d said when he’d helped you into the rental.

Now, you could bet on it.

Because you're not even sure how long you’ve been in the air, too busy gazing, hungrily undressing him as he flicks switches and checks gauges. Your understanding of what he was doing lost, barely reaching a basic level.

What you do know is that if he reaches over, slides his hand up your dress and touches the fabric covering your pussy, he’d find them soaked.

But then, he’d also likely notice the way you’re taking shallow breaths, that you’ve been squirming for friction for the past so many instructions—

Because of his voice.

It all low, husky—dragged through gravel when it comes through the headset. Pointing out sights, places, but he’s the only thing you want to gaze at from this height. From any height.

That’s why the thought had arrived, to begin with, the lucrative one. The one so far gone that you try not to consider logistics and just trust in the fact he’d stop you if it was too unsafe. Your voice barely steady through the microphone, asking—layered and wrapped with demand, as your pulse quickens and your palms become slick with sweat.

You know the idea is ridiculous. Yet, somehow, you find yourself moving up onto your knees, digging them into the chair you’d just been seated on.

That’s when you see it. The glimmer, the spark, before he whines out that he’ll maintain altitude as you palm him over his cargo pants. Feeling him harden, pressing against the zipper, all thick, long and delicious as your mouth waters.

Because you need him in your mouth.

A thing you must murmur because suddenly he’s helping—lifting his hips as he whispers an oh fuck, when you drag his layers down and your hand wraps around his cock. More so when you move your wrist, dipping your head to slide your tongue to lick up the bead of want already there at the tip.

Flicking your gaze up, you find hungry eyes staring back—ones lit by the sun, shades a plenty making up the lust-filled gaze that makes your mouth open wider as you take as much of him as you can.

Fuck it’s glorious.

Both the thrum of vibrations through the cushion seat under your knees as he keeps the thing in the air and the feel of his hot length sliding against your tongue. As you take him. As you make him hiss through gritted teeth when you try to take a little more of him than you usually manage—tears springing in your eyes and your throat constricting around him—

“Careful, querida,” he soothes.

Large hand cupping the back of your head, easing, aiding, as his cock rests at the entrance of your mouth, placed perfectly on your lower lip. Breath coming back to you; eyes blinking as he darts his eyes from the world below him to you.

“You okay?”

Until now, you weren’t sure if it was possible to be more in love with him. Then he proved that even up in the air he thought of nothing but what was best for you.

Nodding, spit trailing down your chin, droplets falling to your chest where it pools as fabric meets skin, you smile. Gleam. Grin. Before making him swallow a moan as you take him again, his head falling back.

It’s then, when you hollow your cheeks do you feel him shift, allowing him, as he gently thrusts to slide his length as far down your throat as it allows. Good girl, so good, my good girl—

Humming around him at his praise, a blend of languages as he calls you pretty and perfect. And you can tell he’s close, taste it on your tongue as he begins to rock his hips, as he begins to hiss—teeth biting down on his lip, imagining his knuckles whitening around the cyclic stick.

It’s enough to make you come from the thought—close to ruining your own panties further as you press your thighs together.

Closing your lips around him, sucking and adorning, showing him, etching your love for him with the way your tongue swirls over the tip, hand gripping his thigh as he groans your name. It followed by s’close, m’close baby—

Then he pulls you off him, all with care. Spit connecting your lips to his tip as you stare at him in confusion. The line dropping, snapping—it clinging to the curls at the base of him, soaking his hair like dew on a spring morning.

“Frankie…”

It’s all you manage to croak out. Eyes wide, thoughts barely present, all cock-drunk and adrenaline-fuelled—the scent of him still there, around your nose, musk and engine oil.

“Need to land,” he replies, short, jaw tight—cock angry and throbbing between his thighs as he flicks a switch. “Can’t… can’t fuck you, unless I land.”

You’re not sure he’s ever landed so quickly, never mind so clunky. Remembering stories, how he gloats at his prowess at most of his land landings. But you have no time to question, think, or ask, before he pulls off his belt, headset and hat before reaching to yank you into his lap.

It’s clumsy—a mess of limbs, a tight squeeze as your hands skate around his neck. But you forget about it all when his mouth crashes to yours. Kissing you so hard and hungrily your teeth clash. His breath is hot in your mouth as he pants at the feel, likely tasting himself as he slips his tongue into yours.

And it’s warm, his tongue. Licking into your mouth, large hands around your waist brushing your clothed core against his cock—the hiss reverbing down your throat as you swear you feel him shake. Tremble. So desperate for you that it makes him quiver.

You love kissing him.

Could spend hours doing it. Not caring about jaw aches when you’re tangled up with him. Like right now. In some field, in some place—

“Need t’fuck you, baby. Can I fuck you please?” he asks, voice low, but tinged with a plea.

His hand balls up your dress, the other hand hooking a finger in to pull your soaked underwear from your pussy before groaning at the sight. “Hold them for me, baby.”

Swallowing, smiling—you do. Lifting, nudging yourself closer as your knees screech on the leather as you become full of molten hunger. Hovering over him as he eases the head of his cock to your slick entrance, sliding it through your folds, eyes focused on you.

“Can’t wait.”

“Then, don’t,” you whisper.

Then he hisses as he pushes in, right between his teeth. One that’s born at the back of his throat and makes an entrance into the air. Cuts. Slices. The sound so fucking hot that you clench around him when he bottoms out—mouth open in an O at how full, stretched and stuffed you feel.

“No te muevas—lemme feel you, baby. Fuck—”

Your smile widens—practically smirking. Shifting on him as the hand on your waist tightens its hold. But, you’re not listening. Even less so when you press an open-mouth kiss to his skin as you begin to move, to slowly slide your pussy up and down his shaft.

“Fuck, querida—feel so—good—incredible. Tu perfecto. Made for me, you know that…”

It’s layered—all in a breath; you answer similarly when you say that you do. Practically pressing it into the air as you pant, resting your forehead on his shoulder, as the two of you are quick to find a pace.

It’s almost drowned by how wet you are, how loud it is when he begins to thrust up into you. All aching for one another, practically feral as you feel your slick clings to your inner thighs—likely smudging against his skin as your fist clenches at his shirt. Clit brushing against the tangle of coarse hair, you’re soaking, that makes you dizzy as he begins to fuck up into you.

All deep thrusts. Making you moan—feeling nothing but good. Perfect. Amazing.

Just how he always makes you feel this way. Every, single, time—

“Need you to come, baby,” he strains, rasps, groans as you feel his hand—all expert, calloused in the right places—snake between the two of you.

It’s there, trying to disguise between letters: desperation. Despair. His touch confirms it, finding your bundle of nerves as he makes you gasp, arch, tighten around him as your hand finds refuge on the back of his neck. Your fingers slide into his sweat-soaked curls, smearing against your fingers as you clutch, grip and grasp.

And you’re aware of it now. How the cabin is warmer—windows likely smothered in perspiration—but it’s nothing compared to the heat of your body. It licks at your neck, at the base of your spine, the backs of your thighs that meet your calves.

But you’re lost in it, in him. Wanting nothing more than to come; unable to speak from how much you want to. More so as his hips cant up into you, as you begin to see white in the corner of your vision—as your body becomes more fire than bone.

Tightening around him as he shifts, an angle that makes you see fucking stars as you whine his name like it’s made of one syllable.

“—that’s it, querida. Fuck, s’good for me, I love—“

It building, so near to snapping as you hear him babbling, rambling. Your mouth is just open against his neck, moaning—the noise slipping out of you as it slams into you. His voice fading, the world going quiet as you come undone, all pulsing, all clenching down on him as it crests.

But his hips push you through it. Chasing, seeking. His pace is all sloppy, difficult, lost as you blink your eyes open to see the way his face is scrunched, lips over his teeth. And if you hadn’t just, you swear you’d come against from the sight.

That look of sheer determination, skin bathed in sweat before his eyes find yours—crystallising, glazed over and fucked out—

“Come for me, baby,” you whisper.

And his expression pauses. Relaxes.

Smooths.

His hand tightens on your hip, grunting out your name—burying it into the air as his hips stutter. Then, he whines. Spilling inside of you as he collapses back into the chair, you pressed against him, jaw all slack and his eyes clenched shut.

And you swear you can feel his heartbeat. It is all out of step with your own.

Not that you care.

Smiles painted on your faces as your eyes met his, breaths ragged, your finger wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.

Before his lips slide back over yours, kissing you, writing gratitude against your mouth as the muscles in his neck flex under your palm.

an: look how pretty this issssssss. thank you so much, jett.

[polarisjisung]

BITTERSWEET

synopsis: it's routine— you patch up his wounds and watch them heal, he salts your wounds but doesn't stick around long enough to watch them grow.

wc: 2.7k

pairings: jaemin × fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: mentions of violence, blood, uses of petnames, reader ogles at jaemin for a little while, jaemin gives mixed signals but also not really?

notes: I was supposed to post this last week but the formatting was so off anyways happy renjun day, here's a jaemin fic?

part two

even when he was battered, bruised and most probably broken, na jaemin stared up at you with those shiny eyes, almost iridescent under the moonlight.

you havent seen him in weeks.

you'd like to kick and scream and shout at him for ghosting you all this time, the possibilities of everything that could've happened to him, worrying you endlessly up until now.

you hate him for just showing up like this, out of the blue, you think, but his composure suggests that this isn't as big of a deal as you make it out to be—whether it was weeks or maybe even months later, na jaemin would always circle back to you

like always, there he is stood at your doorstep at an ungodly hour of the night, dripping blood all over the welcome mat that lays on your front porch, his usual carefree self

you know you'll be getting a long scolding from your mother about the kind of company you surround yourself with the next morning, before being forced to rub the stains out of said mat, but in this moment, you couldn't seem to care less

perhaps it's because you swear you've never seen anything prettier, even with cuts littered across his skin, and a swollen eye that would certainly discolour the next morning, he looks ethereal.

for a moment, your jaw hangs low and jaemin holds back a chuckle at the sight, though you wish he hadn't, before you slip to the side and let him in, shutting out the cold as he flings the door to a close behind him, finally turning to face you

there's an unfamiliar sweetness to his scent tonight, his clothes oozing with the smell of cologne and what any sane person could recognise as perfume— women's perfume.

suddenly you find it difficult to keep looking at his stupidly pretty face, almost feeling sick

jaemin however, had always basked in the warm feeling of admiration that came with your look, though it mostly fell straight through his heart and inflated his sky high ego instead, jaemin wonders how despite his cocky nature you seemed to welcome him all the same

admittedly tonight your eyes hold a deeper gloominess to them, bloodshot, because you're tired, he tries to convince himself, but he knows a lot of that redness comes from the purple painted splodges against his skin, the bruises that burn deep inside his being— a burning that seems negligible at the sight of you

"cute slippers" he whispers, the sight of your fluffy pink hello kitty slippers causing the heat to rush to your cheeks

the embarrassment fades just as quickly as it seemed to have taken over your entirety— jaemin had seen a lot worse of you "almost as cute as you" he adds

you brush over the topic like it means nothing, frankly it doesn't, like most things with jaemin

"judging by the state of you" you sigh, two hands on your hips as you look him up and down disappointedly, "you didn't win this fight" and jaemin reels back, far too animated for you to assume he's actually in any pain considering the offended expression he wears, but you know him far too well to fall for his, admittedly convincing, acts

"I won, actually" he says weaving his arms through the gaps between yours to pull you closer, letting then hang at your waist

"sure you did" you nod sarcastically but he only rolls his eyes, following you into the kitchen

he knows what it means when you hold out two mugs, specifically the ones you had hand painted on your trip to the park when you were 5, adorned with the same floral pattern in different colours, and a cheesy quote continued across the two cups— his eyes light up

"hot chocolate?"

and jaemin hates hot chocolate, until its made by you, the sweet, almost childish drink something he could only savour in the dim lighting of your living room

maybe it was because of that specific brand of crazy expensive hot chocolate you used, that tasted a little dark and sometimes too strong for your liking, or maybe, most probably it was the taste of nostalgia that would linger on his lips each and every time

all jaemin knows is he would find himself laughing at the moustache of marshmallow fluff that would undoubtedly form over your upper lip as you carefully dabbed against his wounds with the antiseptic you kept on hand, one reserved solely for him since he was allergic to the regular stuff

he nods, attempting to grin before pulling his lip between his teeth at the sharp pain that strikes across it—hissing.

you laugh, despite the dull ache that takes over your chest seeing him like this

flicking your head over to the sofa is all you can do, worried your voice would give way if you gave the instructions verbatim but jaemin seems to get the memo.

as he takes a seat on your mother's favourite buttoned yellow velvet loveseat— you choose not to read to far into his choice of sofa

you're fishing through the drawers of your freezer to find some ice to help his wounds but all you can find is a bag of dino nuggets and a bag of peas— you decide the dino nuggets have a larger surface area and would probably be a little more help as you emerge through the kitchen door, hoping you made the right choice

jaemin finds the faint look of contemplation on your face far too adorable to hide the smile that reaches his now coloured cheeks, one darker than the other owing to the bruise that blossoms over it

"here" you offer it out to him wrapped in a towel, having learnt from your mistakes the last time you'd accidentally given him freezer burn

"gonna make me do it all by myself doll?" you shoot a questioning look his way "I'm all ache-y"

contrast to his tough demeanor, jaemin looks up at you with a pout and a look of feigned innocence

"yeah? well you should've thought about that before landing yourself in this situation"

you're ready to turn a full 180 on your heels and walk away, until jaemin's fingers wrap around your wrist, bruised knuckles begging for some sympathy

"please?"

ultimately you give in. you knew you would the second he looked at you with those shiny big eyes. you didn't know how to say no, not to him

"fine."

"that's my girl" he beams up at you, you know better than to let his words replay in your mind, his girl, why did that sound so damn good?

as your press the towel to his cheek, the cool feeling against his burning hot skin makes him wince, though you're not sure who's in more pain considering the way you your heart threatens to leap out of your chest

"how many times do I have to tell you to be more careful huh jaemin" you sigh, rubbing circles against his warm skin in an attempt to comfort him, angry eyes latched onto the rough blood stained patches

"don't call me that" his voice drops an octave somehow louder than before despite coming in whispers

"what else shall I call you? is that not your name jaemin?"

his eyes almost flash over completely black as he huffs, "not to you it isn't" and you notice the slither of seriousness that remains unmasked beneath his playful tone— you wonder why jaemin makes no effort to hide the solemnity of his words

but that's who he had always been, hot and cold, difficult to read, even more so to understand, he was confusing at best and so like most things with jaemin, you'd decided putting much thought to it wasn't your best idea, you would only be breaking your own heart.

"oh I didn't know it was different for me" you place a band aid against his wound, reaching to treat the next, your tongue poking out from between your lips causing jaemin to suddenly smile, eyes unwavering from the soft pink skin of your lip

between nights spent in his lousy apartment, cooped up in the illusive comfort of his arms and days spent with tear stained cheeks at the thought of being some disposable little thing in his life, you can't help but find yourself unsure of your place in his life

the acidity rising in your throat should be enough of a reality check for you to know the answer to your question, but self awareness had never been your strong suit.

at times he made you feel like the only girl in the world, most times he made no effort to acknowledge your existence, because jaemin was a man of two extremes

when he cared, or at least seemed to, he did so with his whole heart, and when he didn't— well you couldn't have felt any more worthless

right now his speech is sweet, like his voice is honey and his words are sugar-coated, you're intoxicated by the way his deep cologne overwhelms your senses, making your best attempt to filter out the cheap feminine scent that seems to have blended itself into his

"you know it is doll, everything is different with you" his voice reduces further into deeper whispers, words that hit your mind and soul all at once, heartbeat sounding somewhere in the background as the words echo in your mind

you shake your head.

jaemin had always been adventurous with his words, he was bold to say the least, meaning you knew to take his words with a pinch of salt, or two— however many were necessary really.

honestly speaking, you know you'd believe anything that came out of his mouth— na jaemin could wake up one day and decide the sky was pink and the earth was flat and you'd take it as bible.

you suppose it's just integrated into your genetic coding or something, to be at his beck and call, to let the walls you build around yourself fall down every time, you would protect yourself from the whole world, but the harsh truth was, you couldn't protect yourself from him ,though you didn't mind all that much.

drunk on what little love he gave you, you find a sudden dizziness overwhelm you— the good kind that makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside even if just for a moment.

"one of these days I'll leave you at the door to rot" your eyes roll at his words in an attempt to return to the playful mood, and jaemin knows you would never, but the brief mention of the possibility still makes him gulp, sound resonating in his ears

"never" he whispers, suddenly his eyes are glossy and his grip on the warm mug begins to loosen, the thought of losing you never having been one to cross his mind until now, you however, seem as unbothered as before

similar to most things in life, jaemin took you for granted.

but that was the thing, you were unlike anyone, anything, any part of his life— you were special.

jaemin knew you meant a lot to him, it wasn't a secret he tried to hide, not that he was particularly good at expressing it either, but the way your hair falls over your face as you concentrate on patching up his injuries and your skin glows under the dim light has jaemin wondering just how much you mean to him.

jaemin decides you mean the most to him, more than anyone else.

as a man of habit, he wonders what that would mean for these habits of his that you hated oh so much. very little, most probably. he had you amongst a thousand other wrapped around his finger, cast under his spell, deeply infatuated with him but somehow playing with you felt the most special.

that was the problem, you were special to him and as much as he enjoyed playing with fire, jaemin had never thought he'd find himself getting burnt.

you don't realise the silence that befalls the room, nothing but the soft buzz of the fridge or the flicker of the soon to fuse kitchen light mixed with your soft breaths— he had noticed they grew louder as you became more exhausted, guilt beginning to settle somewhere in the pit of his stomach, knowing he was keeping you awake

he was always a little selfish when it came to you, he knew that

your eyes land on jaemin, his flooding with something you can only hope is a feeling of warmth— anything but his usual sudden switch up before he'd announce he was leaving, only for you to see him the next time he got himself like this, a couple nights into the next week most probably, a routine you can't say you had appreciated, nor condoned

most things with jaemin were like this, short lived, and bittersweet, although the bitter part seemed more overpowering at times

you can't help but hold onto the little slither of hope that tonight will be different

"hey doll" his free hand cups your cheek, forcing your noticeably distant eyes into his—but instead of the icy cold stare you expect, you're met with fire, his eyes burning with promise

"hmm?" your eyes lock, "what's up?"

"never stop nagging at me, please" he sucks in a harsh breath, hoping you'll say something to stop him from completely losing control of his words and spilling every thought he's ever held back when it came to you, a lot really

but you only take a sip of the warm drink in your mug, the tones of dark cocoa and the traces of coffee so distinct.

the white foam spreading across your lip as you now decide to tend to the gash beneath his eyebrow, though jaemin sees it as an excuse to take ahold of your face between his fingers, thumb tracing over your upper lip

"cute" your wide eyes make him chuckle, noticing a small speck of white still resting on your lip

"would you look at that, I missed a spot" you find yourself being pulled further into his lap, legs messily sprawled across the couch along with his, you don't mind however, his pink glossy lips the only thing on your mind

you'd like to let him ruin you, make you his puppet, blind you with his warmth and make you his and only his. even if you were his little plaything, it didn't matter, nothing mattered as long as you were his.

"and what are you going to do about it nana, hmm?"

you let your nose rest gently against his, soft vanilla scent mixing with the deep musky cologne jaemin wore, you wonder how it manages to last throughout the day considering your perfumes lasted all of 5 minutes, at best

"whatever you'd like doll, just say the word and I'll do it"

"you promise?"

jaemin nods, "I promise" and he holds you tight, because like all things good in life, jaemin knows one day, he'll lose you too

as you pout your lips at his, a knowing smile in his eyes , the first aid box is long forgotten behind you and your lips fall atop each other, like they'd always meant to.

you can't help but wonder how long jaemin will stick to this promise of his, forever you hope, though you know better.

especially when his hot cocoa flavoured kisses, like the true essence of jaemin, were so damn bittersweet.

[iomoru]

hiii! been a fan of your works for quite a bit now but a little hesitant to request.. anyway, if you're doing reqs then may i please request an asexual (like, wants physical and emotional intimacy but not sexual) reader and kazuha, kinich, scara+ whoever you like? just like, how would they respond/would they be comfortable w that?

Gentle Bonds

A/n: Ofc anon! You can send reqs to me anytime as long as I still keep it open, I tried doing my best so I hope you like it!

Genre: Canon Verse, Fluff, Some of the chars might be a little ooc, Gn! Reader, Asexual Reader, Char! x Reader, Second Person, Proofread

Chars: Kazuha, Kinich, Wanderer (Scara), Ajax (Childe), Diluc, Kaeya

Summary: Intimacy comes in many forms, and when you share your feelings about being asexual, your partners respond with warmth and understanding. Through tender moments, they prove that love is about more than physical closeness─ it's about the bond between two hearts that truly understand each other.

Kazuha:

The evening breeze gently rustled the maple leaves as you and Kazuha sat under the tree, your head resting on his shoulder. His fingers absentmindedly combed through your hair, and he smiled at you with that serene look that always made your heart flutter.

“I love these moments,” you said softly, “Just being close to you like this.” You hesitated before continuing, “But I want you to know that I'm not interested in anything more than this—physically, I mean.”

Kazuha's smile didn't falter instead, it seemed to grow even warmer. “The beauty of a moment lies not in its intensity but in its sincerity,” he said, his voice like a calming breeze. “Your presence, your touch—these are enough for me. I treasure the way we share our thoughts and feelings. There's no need for anything more if this is what makes you comfortable.”

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, grounding you in his unwavering acceptance.

Kinich:

Kinich’s eyes lit up as he spotted you in the garden, a bouquet of freshly picked wildflowers in his hands. He walked over, his expression as warm as the desert sun. Sitting down beside you, he placed the flowers in your lap and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

You sighed contentedly, leaning into his touch. “I love being close to you, like this,” you murmured. “I don’t need anything more than this kind of intimacy.”

He looked at you, his expression softening with understanding. “Being close to you means more than words can say,” Kinich replied, his voice as gentle as a whispering breeze through the trees. “If holding you, sharing these moments, and making you feel loved is what makes you happiest, then that's all I need. You're enough for me, just as you are.”

He pressed a light kiss to your forehead, as if sealing his words with his affection.

Wanderer (Scara):

The two of you sat on a rooftop, the night sky above and the bustling city below. Wanderer was unusually quiet, his hand intertwined with yours as he watched the stars. He was different when it was just the two of you—softer, less guarded.

“I don’t need anything more than this,” you said quietly, breaking the silence. “I just want to be close to you without crossing those lines.”

He turned to look at you, his gaze intense but softened by something unspoken. “You think I care about that?” he scoffed, though his tone lacked its usual bite. “I'm not exactly good with feelings, but I understand boundaries. If all you want is this—just holding hands, leaning on each other—that's fine by me.”

He squeezed your hand a little tighter, as if to prove his words. “You're stuck with me, whether you like it or not,” he added, a small, genuine smile playing at his lips.

Ajax (Childe):

Ajax grinned as he pulled you into a hug, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around in his typical playful manner. You laughed, feeling the warmth of his embrace, and when he set you down, you kept your arms around him a moment longer.

“Ajax,” you said, looking up into his bright blue eyes, “I love how close we are. I just want you to know that I’m not comfortable with anything beyond this kind of affection.”

His grin softened into a tender smile, and he cupped your cheek with one hand. “You know, I never signed up for anything specific when I fell for you,” he said. “I just wanted to be by your side, to see you smile like that. If this is all you need, then it’s more than enough for me.”

He kissed your knuckles gently. “As long as I can make you happy, I’m right where I want to be.”

Diluc:

Diluc set down the book he was reading when you entered the room. You sat down beside him on the couch, curling up with your head resting against his shoulder. His arm instinctively wrapped around you, holding you close.

“I love moments like these,” you said softly, “Just being near you. I want you to know that I’m not comfortable with anything beyond this—just physical and emotional closeness, nothing more.”

He looked at you, his crimson eyes gentle and understanding. “Your comfort matters more to me than anything else,” he replied quietly. “I’m not with you for what you’re willing to give, I’m with you because of who you are. If holding you close and sharing these peaceful moments is what makes you happy, then that’s enough for me.”

He pressed a light kiss to your temple, his embrace warm and reassuring.

Kaeya:

Kaeya pulled you into a slow dance in the courtyard, his hand resting on the small of your back while the other held yours. The night was still, the stars twinkling above as you swayed to a melody only the two of you could hear.

“Kaeya,” you said gently, looking into his eyes, “I love how close we are, but I don’t want anything beyond this kind of connection—just being near you like this.”

Kaeya’s gaze softened, his playful smirk replaced by something far more genuine. “You think I’d trade this closeness for anything else?” he said, his voice low and sincere. “I enjoy being near you, feeling your heartbeat in sync with mine. If this is what makes you comfortable, then I wouldn’t dream of asking for more.”

He twirled you once before pulling you back into his arms, whispering, “You’re all I need, just like this.”

A/n: it's currently 11:20 pm rn and I feel so drained bc of everything (including school) sooo I lowkey used the same words for some of them :3

© ²⁰²⁴ ɪᴏᴍᴏʀᴜ ✰ do not repost, translate, plagiarize, use to train ai, or share my work on other social media platforms.

[luimagines]

Omg requests are open!!! Remember to take care of yourself! And 3 requests per person you are so generous!

Anyways how about.... The chain with a stressed out college modern student lmao (maybe they're studying to become a veterinarian, because that's what I'm going to college for this year lol👀)

Remember to take care of yourself and take your time💕💕💞

Oh goodness, this took forever to get to. Um... So how'd your school year go?! Did you start the second year already?

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

"GGAAHHH!!!" You yell into your hands, rubbing them over your face and into your hair, trying to not pull it right out of your scalp.

"....I guess they're dead." Wild shrugs unhelpfully, walking calmly past you.

Sky picks up your fallen book, giving you an amused, if concerned look. "Problem?"

"It's too much stuff." You groan, taking the book back. "You know, when I chose to be a vet tech I didn't think it would consist of overloading my brain until it felt like it was leaking out of my ears."

"What's a vet tech?" Wind hops to your side, peering over your arm to get a better look at your book. He has no idea what it says but there's a cute picture of a dog on the front. The book is also very shiny and colorful. He has no idea what it's about.

"A doctor." You say, deciding to put your text book in your bag. "But for animals."

"Think you can take a look at Epona at some point then?" Twilight asks from somewhere to your left. you can't even look at him, your head hurts.

"I guess?" You rub your temples. "I'm still learning and there's only so much my textbook has on horses. But I can try. I'd need some experience anyway."

Hyrule stops and calmly activates the healing spell on his hands. Your head ache goes away at once.

You turn to him gratefully. "Traveler, I'd kill to have that ability of yours."

He smirks. "It's rather convenient, but I thought doctors were healers. No killing for you."

You stick your tongue out at him. He remains unapologetic.

Time puts a hand on your shoulder. "If you need more experience with horses, you're always free to take a look at our horses at Lon Lon."

"For free?" You deadpan.

He meets you head on. "We only pay the professionals, not the trainees."

You pout harder. "I hate that. I get it. But I hate it."

He chuckles.

Four rolls his shoulders and checks your hip simply because he can. "So what's that book about? Animals?"

"It's my text book." You say, patting your bag where it sits safely tucked away. "It has all the information I would need for my classes and then some." You rub your eyes again. "I swear I'm going t have this entire book memorized before I get home. I had a test on Tuesday for crying out loud."

"It's admirable that you're still studying though." Four smirks at you.

"Studying, the only words that very blatantly describes the acts of students dying." You grumble.

Warrior laughs out loud an smacks your back, nearly sending you careening into the gravel trail face first. "I remember those days. I couldn't wait to get away from the desk and on to the field!"

"Yeah?" You say, relaxing a little more at the common experience. "What for?"

"Knight training of course." He shrugs. "Had to learn the laws like the back of our hands. Fighting came after."

"I remember that." Sky stretches his arms over his head. "Hated it."

"No time like the present." Legend shrugs. "You're on the field now whether you like it or not. Nothing like learning on the job."

Somehow, you don't feel like that bodes well for you. "Remember, I'm studying animals, not people."

"We're not all that different though." He pops his back. Legend looks at you with an unreadable gleam in his eye. "You might want to give a check up to Wolfie too, while you're at it."

You smile. "Dogs I can do. Horses will have to wait a little more."

Twilight throws something at Legend head, but you don't know why.

[zaephix]

carry me to tomorrow / / xavier , zayne , & rafayel . . .

loving him can feel like a multitude of things

a/n: having severe brainrot over these men, smb save me. rlly random but i got a 96 on my physics test everybody clap!! (can you tell who my favorite is)

loving XAVIER feels like waking up at dawn and watching the sun and moon up in the sky at the same time. with you looking at the view with heavy eyes as the shades of blue and black fade to warm tones of orange and yellow, exchanging greetings with the moon. you're reminded of the sun as you stare at his peaceful face, his grey-blonde hair messy, making his skin look even softer. with a content sigh, you crawl back into his embrace and he welcomes you with a hum.

loving XAVIER feels like staring at the clouds and getting carried away by your daydreams. even when the both of you are on missions, you can't seem to take your eyes off of him (whether it's for romantic reasons or skeptical reasons - your choice). just as the clouds hide the blue sky, it feels like he hides himself as well, choosing instead to appear as a dull blob. you've asked XAVIER about himself more times than you can count, and yet he still chooses to stay quiet. you've nothing but your imagination at this rate. however, both of you know that one day the clouds will fade, revealing the deep, rich, and true colors hidden away. time will tell.

finally, loving XAVIER feels like spring. like the fresh grass and the fresh rain, like the blooming flowers and the bright rays. spring is a new beginning, for the earth and people alike. with XAVIER, everything and nothing feels new. you feel like you've done this with him a thousand times before, and yet you're pleasantly surprised each time. as the song birds celebrate the arrival of spring, you and XAVIER lie in the grass. nothing is exchanged between the two of you - just your time. with each passing second, your eyes begin to close again. and just as your vision was fading, you heard soft snores and mumbles of your name.

loving ZAYNE feels like going home at dusk, wondering what he's up to. the day ends with orange and red hues up in the sky, the moon readying itself for nightfall. you know he has a tendency to get caught up in work too often than not. and you wonder if you're overstepping your boundaries once you're at the doorstep of his office. what you didn't know was that even through the long and boring days at the hospital, he debated with himself on whether or not to call you. loving ZAYNE feels like moments when the sun paints everything in orange, gold hues - short, but sweet moments worth remembering.

loving ZAYNE feels like trying to navigate through the fog. fog feels uncertain, the chill sending goosebumps down your arm. the mist feels as though it's coercing you to join it away from the safety of your car. and in times like these you're reminded of how ZAYNE's morning coffee fogs his reading glasses. the same way you chuckle before taking them off of him and wiping them. you don't notice, but the black haired man now looks at you fondly - the steam from his coffee now subsided.

finally, loving ZAYNE feels like the transition from autumn to winter. the days of colorful leaves and cool wind over with. the beginning of winter marks its arrival through the fragile and stiff trees, the wind blowing through them as though they miss the kisses they'd share with the leaves. the days are getting shorter and the nights are longer. although the beginning of winter signifies hibernation and hiding, you can't help but love it. nights with ZAYNE are spent in bed cuddled in blankets and pillows as you both read books together. you never really cared for the books but rather the man that is clinging to you in a fashion he would never reveal in public. you had no problem with it. you'd love him in private and in public, through the winter storm and the chilly mornings. and just as your vision was fading, you felt a sigh against your skin and hands tucking you in, getting you ready for your dreams.

loving RAFAYEL feels like midnight escapades, brought on by midnight phone calls. the night is pitch black, save for the few street lights on your way from your apartment to his studio and the glowing moon. it's a vulnerable hour, crickets chirping and the white noise of the few cars going down streets the only music of the night. but as soon as you're met with his cheeky smile, you seem to forget the eeriness. your dazed nods as he goes on to rant about his problem or his painting - whichever one it was. it was only when you yawned when he invited you to rest in his too-big-of-a-bed. you had no idea if that was his intention or not, but any intelligible thoughts were hushed as the lights dimmed and the mattress below you dipped from the added weight.

loving RAFAYEL feels like the dew that paints the grass in the late nights and early mornings. you observe from the cover of his patio as he sinks his feet into the grass, seemingly in deep thought about something. you supposed it was his creative process, however odd it may be. the sun is almost blinding as it rises again and tiny rainbows form as if to say hello. he was still rooted in place. you think he invites you over, however you were distracted. the moisture of the air reminds you of how with RAFAYEL moments are quiet, just like how the grass quietly embraces the oncoming dew - an old friend.

finally, loving RAFAYEL feels like summer. like the hot atmosphere and the ice-cream melting on your tongue and fingers. like the never ending sky and the vibrant butterflies flapping their wings. loving RAFAYEL feels like the vigor the waves have for the sand under the hot gaze of the sun. and yet, you can never get a second of peace with all of his exhibitions gaining popularity. loving RAFAYEL means that summer nights is all you can afford to yourselves, the rush of the day still struggling to fade away. sitting on the sand, the white noise of the waves crashing over the earth lull you in a trance. and just as your vision was fading you saw dusky purple hair and violet amber eyes come closer, the feeling of lips against your temple sending you off.

[tomblythismyhusband]

flowers [billy the kid x fem!reader]

[summary]: billy the kid x fem!reader | You and Billy enjoy a sunny afternoon out in the flower fields to get away from the pressures of life.

[warnings]: just fluff :)

[wc]: 890

[note]: little blurb i wrote so it’s kinda short, basically just imagining what it would be like to lay in a field with billy…. sigh….

Sun kissed and happy.

That’s all you were at this moment. Your body in the strong arms of your lover, Billy as you both sprawled out in a vast field of daisies. The warmth of the summer sun danced upon your skin as you laid on the soft grass.

Billy had taken you out early that morning to this little spot out on the prairie. “We won’t get caught here.” He had said with a smile. You trusted him.

Obviously, being romantically involved with an infamous outlaw had its down sides but Billy always made it up to you. Anytime that he could do something for you, he would. Whether it was leaving little gifts by your doorstep or sneaking you out of your Pa’s house, he always worked hardest to make you feel loved.

And now, laying in a field of smiling daisies, you felt at peace. You were often worried about Billy when he was away. At any time he could be caught, killed, or imprisoned, so moments like this - where you were safely in his arms - made you feel like you were in heaven.

You lazily tilted your head up to nuzzle against the crook of his neck. Laying next to him on the warm earth almost felt unreal, like a part of a romance novel you’ve read before.

“You smell good.” You hummed against his neck, taking in the scent of him. He smelled like campfire and whiskey, two things that shouldn’t smell as good as they did.

A laugh puffed out of Billy’s lips as he angled his head down to place his lips on your temple. His lips felt soft against your skin.

“I’m guessin’ you’ve missed me huh?” He said, his voice rough and ragged. You could feel his warm breath against your forehead making your cheeks heat.

You shifted your body so you laid on your side with your face over his as he stared up into the blue sky.

“Of course I’ve missed ya.” You said softly. You couldn’t help but smile down at him, your lashes fluttering over your eyes.

He reached a hand up to trace your cheek. You would never get bored of the feeling of his rough, calloused hands caressing your skin. It was comforting, his touch felt like home.

When Billy touched you, nothing else mattered, only him. Despite his rough exterior he was always soft with you, as if you were a delicate flower that could be crumpled easily.

You picked at the grass below you while you stared into his striking blue eyes.

“I can’t stand being away from you for too long darlin’” He whispered, also shifting his body so he was propped up on his side.

Billy’s eyes couldn’t help but follow the gentle swoop of your hips and waist waist as you laid there. God were you beautiful. Billy felt like the luckiest man in the world to be lounging here next to you.

He stared at you for a while, taking in all of your perfects. He loved the way your hair fell into place on your shoulders, the way your eyes sparkled in the sun, and especially the faint pink of your cheeks.

You felt his eyes on you and blushed. “What?”

Billy’s lips parted as if he was trying to find the words to say.

“You're just so… Beautiful.” He finally said, giving you a soft smile.

You couldn’t contain your joy as you swooped over to him to plant a kiss on his lips. Your arms found their place around his neck as he let out a muffled grunt.

Billy leaned into the kiss, pulling your body closer to his. He put his arms around your waist and moved you so laid on top of him. When you broke apart from the kiss you couldn’t look anywhere but him. You loved the faint freckles that dotted his face, the curls that softly sat on his brow. You loved all of him.

You spent the rest of the day in the flowery meadow, not having a care in the world. You sat and talked for hours about everything and nothing at all simultaneously. You liked the time away from the stress of the real world. You liked being able to live in your own fantasy, even if it was just for a day.

“I wish I could stay here forever.” You whispered to Billy, as your hands worked meticulously on crafting a crown of daisies. The sun was starting to set now, casting an orange glow across the meadow.

Billy smiled down at you. “You sure you wouldn't get tired of me darlin’?”

“Never.” You giggled, placing a finished daisy crown on Billy’s head. Who knew a known killer could look so impossibly gorgeous in a flower crown?

Billy smiled at you, adjusting the crown on top of his messy brown curls.

“Jesse would never let me hear the end of it if he knew I was sittin’ here with flowers on my head.” He joked.

You let out a laugh, scooting closer to him. You cupped his cheek gently.

“I love you Billy.”

He leaned down to kiss your lips, pink and warm. “I love you too darlin’.” He murmured against them. You could feel his words vibrate through your body.

You wanted this moment to last forever.

You and Billy.

And a field of flowers.

[wreckedandpolemic]

won’t fuck unless he famous - matty healy

(mdni) in which you're a serial starfucker, and you finally have a chance at the man who tops your wishlist. part of summer75 2024. 3254 words.

warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), titwank, slightly problematic power dynamic

The energy surrounding you is electric as the final note squeals out of the amplifiers, drawn out as the crowd around you cheers wildly. Fireworks pop and fizz against the inky sky, heralding the end of the evening’s entertainment for so many. Yours, though, is just beginning. As you watch the band leave the stage, your eyes are glued to the frontman with a singular goal in mind: getting under him.

Look. You aren’t famous, by any stretch of the word. Notorious is more like it, a careful balance of easy charm and knowing the right people buying you access nearly anywhere you want. Matty Healy, though, is your white whale, having eluded your grip at every turn, a blank spot in your ever-growing red ledger. You’ve wanted him ever since you first laid eyes on him at 16, screaming along to The 1975 in your bedroom, bars you’d snuck into, the front rows of sold-out arenas.

And you can pinpoint the moment it switched from an idealistic, childish fantasy to a question not of I wish, of if, but of when.

The first time you’d flirted and conned your way backstage at a festival, you were barely legal and making the most of your gap year. It hadn’t led to much, a passing fling with some singer whose album and dick were equally forgettable. The lasting impression of that night was the split-second of eye contact you’d made with Matty as you came — you and the guy hadn’t really tried to hide, just slipped around a corner and backed against a wall. You’ve replayed the memory so many times it’s worn smooth, and you don’t know whether you recall his eyes dilating for a fraction of a second before he stumbled away, or if it was a trick of your mind, imprinted and false.

Either way, he’ll be seeing a lot more than just your o-face if you get your way tonight. Squaring your shoulders and pasting on a blithe smile, fluttering your lashes and describing a nondescript (read: nonexistent) friend who’s crew until the security guard relents and lets you back. By now, you’re an expert in acting like you belong, able not to react when you brush shoulders with celebrities. You know just when to stroke an ego, play up your awe without coming off obsessive, and it’s gotten you under men far more famous than your next target.

The grass is worn through under your feet as you wander up to a bar, carefully scanning for his presence as you scoop up your rum and coke and saunter away. A girl you know is their crew catches your eye, one you’ve met before, the last time you failed to catch Matty’s attention. You wave, and she brightens, dashing up to you like you’re old friends. “Sorry!” she hisses in your ear when she flings her arms around you. “I could not shake that guy.” You laugh, tipping your head back like she said something hilarious, and cast your best disgusted glare at the guy, who thankfully takes the hint. “How’d you get back here, anyway?”

You grin. “Well, you know what they say about lying, right?”

“What, it’s the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off?”

You lean in. “But it’s better if you do.”

She chuckles, eyes alight with mischief. “Hey, you scratch my back, I scratch yours. You want me to introduce you?” Raising an eyebrow, she nods in answer to the question you haven’t even asked. Your eyes practically bug out of your head, unable to hide your shock.

You’d figured that actually getting to him was going to be the hardest part, but clearly it pays to have friends in high places. Steeling yourself, you let your mask of implacable calm fall over your face and follow the girl (whose name you still don’t remember!) as she strolls up to Matty like it’s the most casual thing in the world. He greets her with a smile and a friendly side hug, then lets his gaze flicker over you. He maintains a skilled poker face; if you weren’t so well-versed in what interest looks like on the faces of men like him, you’d miss it entirely, the brief flare of his nostrils, his tongue flickering out to wet his lips, his hand unconsciously raking through his hair.

You let the moment hang for a second, charged as his lips quirk into a half-smile, then introduce yourself. Matty doesn’t remember you, but he recognises you, immediately catching onto exactly what you want. Good. You like it better this way, when you don’t have to play cat and mouse, act coy while they pretend not to want you. As the conversation rolls on around you, Matty starts literally, actually eye-fucking you, gaze lidded as he imagines all the filthy things he’d like to do to you. When there’s a lull, you seize the moment, dipping into your pocket for your out. “Spliff, anyone?”

The others, predictably, decline, so you and Matty wander off until you’re mostly secluded, lights and music fading into the background as you edge towards the tour buses. “I know who you are,” Matty says as you lift the spliff to your lips.

“Then you know what I want,” you say, smirking. The flame from his lighter illuminates him for a second, shadows pooling under his features as he’s cast in an ethereal, golden glow. You inhale deeply, letting the burn in your lungs pull you away from his distracting beauty. You pass Matty the spliff, smoke curling free from your mouth, his gaze glued to your lips. He’s calculating, formulating a response that will give him back his footing. You interrupt before that can happen. “So, why don’t you tell me what you want? You wanna hear how incredible you were tonight? How incredible you’ve been every time I’ve seen you?”

At that, he seems genuinely surprised. “You’ve seen us before?”

The answer comes before you think it through, impassive facade slipping the longer you spend in his presence. “Yeah. This must be, what, the tenth or eleventh time, now?” Matty’s eyes light up, and you thank God for his ego, that his decisions are already being made by his dick and not his rational brain.

“Thought you were just lookin’ for another name in your little black book. But this is personal, isn’t it?” he breathes, voice thick with smoke. “You want me, don’t you, darling?” He leans close, takes a deep pull and slots his lips over yours.

You breathe in greedily, letting the high overtake you, head going hazy with some intoxicating combination of the weed and his hand sliding into your hair. “Yes.”

Matty groans against your lips, the spliff burning forgotten in his other hand. “S’fucking hot. Girl like you, spendin’ all her time looking for a famous fuck, and the whole time you’re just hoping I’ll look your way, right?”

Heat creeps up your spine, warming your cheeks as arousal starts pooling in your belly. You nod, swallowing thickly “Been tryin’ forever. Think about you every fuckin’ night,” you confess, gasping for it as his lips hover cruelly out of reach.

He grins wickedly, backing away to stamp out the spliff. “Why don’t you tell me what you think about, and I’ll decide if you deserve me, yeah? Needy little groupie.” Your thighs clench involuntarily, desire burning in your blood as you search his expression for anything but sincerity.

“Think about waitin’ on my knees for you when you come off stage, lettin’ you take out all your stress on my throat and swallowing like a good girl.” Matty inhales sharply, pupils blowing wide despite his straight face. “Wished you could fuck me backstage, shove your fingers in my mouth to keep me quiet while you just take what you need from me. Knew you’d change my life,” you add, feeding into his ego a little as his smirk grows wider.

Gripping your hips, Matty pulls you in, eyes liquid with desire as your breathing grows laboured. You stumble, crashing into him as his lips meet yours, his kiss commanding. Arousal drips between your legs and you moan into his mouth, knees buckling when he pulls away to mouth at your jaw. “C’mon, darling. Come let me change your life.” His expression is pure arrogance, a man who knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you, wet and needy and made of pure desperation.

You trail after him as he suddenly turns on his heel and strides away, tugging you by the hand and pulling you in for hot, breathless kisses every few steps. Matty knocks the wind from your lungs, pressing you against the outside of their tour bus, kissing and biting possessively at your neck. “Please,” you whimper, writhing under his touch and widening your legs pathetically.

“I don’t think so,” Matty scoffs. “Already bein’ so greedy, baby, gettin’ the dick you’ve been gaggin’ for for so long. M’gonna take my time with you, okay?” You nod frantically, his clothed cock pressing insistently against your core as you soak your panties. Your head is swimming, dizzy and still a little high and disbelieving that Matty fucking Healy has a hand creeping up your thigh. You don’t say a word, not risking anything that could break the spell surrounding you in this breathless moment. “Get your tits out f’me, yeah?”

Thoughtlessly, you obey, tugging your shirt down off your shoulders so your tits spill free, hissing softly at the cold air kissing over your bare skin. Matty groans appreciatively, taking a greedy handful and squeezing hard, a low moan falling from your lips. “You like ‘em?” you murmur, arching up into his touch. “Could fuck ‘em, if you want. S’long as you cum on my face.” His jaw goes slightly slack, suddenly picturing your face painted white and growing impossibly harder against your thigh.

In an instant, your dress is shoved up around your waist and Matty’s tugging your panties down, motioning for you to step out of them when they hit the floor. He tucks them into his pocket with a wicked smirk. “For safekeeping,” he says, kissing his way down your chest until his lips wrap around your nipple. A bolt of arousal strikes in your core at the scrape of his teeth against your sensitive skin, pain flashing under your skin for a second before he soothes you with his tongue. “Such pretty tits, darling. Gonna let me fuck them after I eat you, yeah?”

“Anything you want,” you whine, sliding your hand into his hair to push him back down as he starts to pull away. “Mark me,” you plead. “Please. I need to know this wasn’t a dream when I wake up tomorrow.” You feel Matty smirk against your skin, throwing your head back to allow him access to your neck. He bites a trail of bruises down your neck, collar, over your tits, patches of sore, red skin blooming gloriously under his touch. When Matty drops to his knees, you feel shockingly exposed without his body covering yours, your dress pulled down below your tits and up above your waist so your dripping cunt is bared to the cool night air. Matty’s nails dig into your thighs, pulling your legs further apart so he can slot himself neatly between them.

Your stomach clenches in anticipation. “So fuckin’ wet, baby. D’you get this soaked for everyone before they even touch you, or are you just a little slut for me?” he murmurs, licking a broad, flat stripe across your cunt.  Vision practically whiting out, your answer dies on your tongue, a helpless whine of his name spilling free instead. “C’mon, baby, answer me. Can’t be so dumb already, I’ve hardly touched you,” Matty scoffs, the condescension dripping hot and sticky down your spine.

“Only f’you,” you gasp out. “Fuckin’ dreamed about this, I– oh, fuck,” you moan, his tongue working over your clit in quick, tight circles. You grind down against his mouth, pressure mounting in your belly. You’re on a hair trigger, you can tell, the barest touches already pulling you close. It’s near-Pavlovian, the realisation of all your fantasies exhilarating. Cunt clenching as he tongue-fucks you languidly, you bury one hand in his hair as the other scrambles for purchase against cool metal.

“Close already, aren’t you? So fuckin’ desperate,” Matty croons, fingers coming up to toy with your swollen clit. You buck your hips against his hand, whimpering and pleading incoherently. He laps greedily at you, moaning softly and tugging at your hips so he can drive his tongue ever deeper. He moans into your cunt, the sound vibrating deliciously through you as you tighten your hand in his curls.

Your eyes fall closed, head thudding against metal when you tip it back with a groan. Ecstasy winds tight in your belly, tugging insistently at you as Matty speeds his motions at your clit, every nerve in your body aflame. “Shit, Matty,” you gasp, tense with the effort of holding back. His nails bite into your thighs, the pain at once sweet and grounding, a blissful anchor amongst the night’s unreality. “Feels s’fucking good, Matty.”

Without warning, he pulls away, and you whine pathetically. The sight of him on his knees with his lips and chin dripping with your arousal is almost too much, your legs going weak as you stare unashamedly, cataloguing every second with careful precision. You’re going to fantasise about this night every day for the rest of your fucking life. “Play with your tits for me, okay, angel?”

The epithet makes you hot all over, shivering under his gaze as you obey mindlessly, grasping and pinching at your tits and letting pleasure run over you. You’re helpless against the tide, head thrashing back and forth as Matty makes out with your hole, moaning into your cunt and circling your clit ever faster. Cunt throbbing, you rock your hips, unconscious of anything but Matty’s hands on you, his fingers against your clit, his curls brushing your stomach, his tongue in your cunt. It’s sloppy, soaked with spit and desire, your entire body unspooling under his touch.

“Matty, m’so close, fuck,” you gasp, your words coming out slurred through sick desire. Your heart is hammering, prey caught in a trap you couldn’t escape from if you wanted to, Matty devouring you as you’re pinned, immobile against the pure ecstasy roaring in your ears. “Oh, my fucking God,” you cry, teetering precariously on the edge.

“You gonna cum, darling? Gonna fuckin’ soak me? Go ahead, angel, cum f’me,” Matty murmurs, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking hard. Your knees buckle, your orgasm crashing over you so hard you practically fall out of your body, pure pleasure wiping your mind clean. You can feel it in every inch of your body, your every nerve alive with it, hot and sweet and seemingly neverending. Moaning helplessly, you start to sway on your feet, head swimming in ecstasy that’s making you dizzy and dumb. Matty’s hands are steadying at your waist, electricity jumping from everywhere his skin touches yours.

His lips and chin are fucking soaked, glistening with your arousal, visceral evidence of what you’ve just done. You lick into his mouth greedily when he kisses you, something illicit thrilling in your veins as your bare tits press against the leather of his jacket, the zipper cool against your heated skin. The contrast of him still being fully-clothed while you’re exposed makes you shiver from something entirely separate from cold. Matty steps back, eyes glued to your tits as a smirk stretches across his slick lips. “My eyes are up here,” you scoff.

“Yeah, and your tits are down here.” You can’t find it in yourself to feel shame at the rush of arousal that sweeps over you at his words.

You grab one of your tits, kneading it gratuitously and thumbing over your nipple. “Still wanna fuck ‘em?” His eyes blow wide, shooting you a look that says what kind of question is that? and fumbling to let you into the tour bus. You scramble breathlessly after him, letting him push you down onto a bed and desperately shoving his jacket off his shoulders. He tugs his shirt off, and you drink in the sight of him shirtless from up close, sweat glistening on his toned chest.

There’s a visible wet spot on his boxers when he strips out of his jeans, you notice with a bolt of pride-tinged arousal, your mouth watering as his cock springs free, thudding stickily against his belly. “Shit, got me so fuckin’ hard, angel. Gonna let me fuck those pretty tits, let me cum all over your face?” Matty kneels over you, slowly stroking his dripping cock as he watches your chest heave.

“Please,” you breathe, gazing up at him as he leans down to spit on your tits, the slick, messy slide sending a pulse of heat between your legs. His lips part around a guttural moan as he slides between your tits, thrusting shallowly and groaning out soft praises. You drop your jaw, sticking out your tongue to lick over his head, the salt taste of him intoxicating.

Precum and spit smear across your chest, rhythmic moans filling the tiny, cramped space as Matty fucks your tits. “Doin’ so good, baby. Like a little fuckin’ sex toy f’me, such a good girl. Y’look so pretty, baby,” he coos, your entire body flushing under his affections. You kitten-lick over his head every time he thrusts, his answering moans heating your core, arousal dripping from your cunt. “Such a little cumslut, angel.”

“Mhmm,” you moan, arching your back and pinching a nipple, dizzy with desire. “M’your cumslut, Matty.” His pace speeds, sloppy as he drools precum over your chest and against your tongue. You lap it up eagerly, drunk on him. Pure lust is written across Matty’s face, jaw slack as he watches himself disappear between your tits, awed.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Matty gasps, his cheeks hot and lips wet with drool. “M’getting close, angel. Where do you want me?”

“On my face,” you breathe, the words coming without you even having to think. “In my mouth, please.” With what looks like a monumental effort, he climbs off you, fisting his cock gracelessly. Eagerly, you watch him fuck his fist, jaw hanging open expectantly. With a low moan of your name, Matty spills across your face, ropes of cum splashing hot against your cheeks and on your waiting tongue.

Closing your eyes, you swallow deliberately, moaning at the taste of him and smiling beatifically. “Good girl,” he grins, panting slightly and watching you fondly. “You need anything? Want me to get you cleaned up?” God, you don’t know if you can take him being all sweet with you on top of it all. You’re going to do something embarrassing like beg for his number if you don’t change the mood, and quickly.

“What, you only good for one round, or somethin’? Getting too old to show your groupies a proper fuck?” you taunt.

The glint in Matty’s eye turns dangerous, and you gulp. “Greedy girl’s not satisfied with my cum all over her face, s’that it? You want more?” You murmur out an affirmative, anticipation tense in your belly. “My little cockslut,” he smirks, climbing over you and caging you in with his arms around your head. “Don’t worry, baby. M’gonna give you what you need.”