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just-some-random-blogger · 2 days ago

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IM CRYING IM CRYING MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY HAS BEEN ALTERED I AM NOT THE SAME PERSON I WAS 1 FIC AGO THIS WAS SOOOOOOOOO INCREDIBLY WELL WRITTEN ITS TERRIBLE WHY COS WTF DO YOU MEAN IM NOT YN I HATE HER SHUT THE FUCK UP THAT SHOULD BE ME LOBOTOMY RIGHT FUCKING NO

I feel like I just watched a movie. I don't smoke I don't want to promote any form of smoking whatsoever but I need a blunt. That's the only way I can describe this feeling. I'm devastated

I fucking hate it here. Except that's a lie I don't BUT I DO COS THAT SHOULD BE MEEEEE.

The way you write is exceptional phenomenal amazing incredible it's so vivid I can taste it my brain will never recover I am marked with insanity the way you describe everything is amazing like THE SMALL DETAILS THE PINING THE YEARNING THE SMUTT 🫦🫦🫦🫦 THE SMUTTTT FUCK SHIT FUCK SHIT I NEED TO BE PUT DOWN

You sighed, ignoring the way the Gryffindor common room fireplace made his brown eyes almost golden, freshly brewed espresso with nutty foam.

Like thiiisssss wHAT DO YOU MEAN ITS SO GOOD I WISH I COULD ABSORB YOUR BRAIN CELLS. ALSO *snaps fingers* EARTH TO YN???? mama hello u good u are in love stfu eat him or move over so *I* CAN YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT

But George was your friend, as you often repeated to yourself in moments like these, when that mischievous smirk softened to a smile just for you.

DENIAL IS A RIVER IN EGYPT

You tried to reimmerse yourself in your studies, but can’t seem to fall back into the reading, losing track of each sentence before it’s finished.

🙄✋ be fr

George had been pestering you for weeks to spend a portion of the upcoming holiday break with him at the Weasley household, and up until now, you’d successfully resisted. But then he found out your grandparents were going on a trip to Spain for two weeks and became unbearable.

Like honestly girl be so fucking for real HO IS U BLIND ❓❓❓ HE CLEARLY HAS THE HOTS FOR YOU I MIGHT HAVE TO BREAK A FUCKER HELLO?????

It was unnerving, exhilirating, and by far the most important relationship in your young life. Which is why you squashed any wandering thought about his freckles, his jawline, the way his forearms flexed while he read, or the way his chest heaved after a Quidditch match, his hands spidered with veins after hours of gripping the Beater’s Bat.

She's ravenclaw but the stupidest broom in the closet *walks out*

“Not a date!” You tossed over your shoulder as you stepped through the portrait.

BE SO FUCKING FOR REAL YOU IDJIT UGHHHHHHHH *SHOOTS LASER BEAMS IN UR FUCKING FACE*

“I do,” he murmured, ushering you inside and into his mother’s waiting embrace.

... Bestie I'm not even gonna lie to you I don't remember the context of this but I'm sure the correct response is HES SO UGHHH BARK BARK HAHAAHAH LOL

He coughed something that sounded an awful lot like ‘incendio’ into his elbow, wand hand flicking under the table at the same moment. Percy leapt up, the crotch of his trousers igniting with flame.

RAW. TIL THE SKIN FALL OFF. NO HE WAS SO HOT FOR THIS... BADUM TSS UGH HES SO FUCKKKKINNGGGGG RAAHHH I DONT EVEN KNOW EHAT TO SAY IM JUST BARKING

“Could’ve been a little more subtle,” Fred chastised George with a smirk.

“I wasn’t going for subtlety,” George replied. “I was going for ‘burning his bollocks off’.”

YOUR HONOR I LOVE THEM WHAT I CANNOT

You found yourself searching for his eyes across the room, smiling at silly things he’d said hours prior, ghosting your fingers over the places he’d brushed against you while passing by. You’d even take a whiff of his coat when he’d come in after a walk with Charlie and tossed it onto the banister.

...............I'm eyeing this low IQ bottom of the barrel brains moron NASTY. MY LOOK AT YN IS SO NASTY RIGHT NOW WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN *SLAPS HER* GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS AND EAT HIS ASS I WILL BREAK YOUR FUCKING NECK YOURE SO DOWN BAD BUT SO IS YOUR DEPTH PERCEPTION APPARENTLY IDDDDIOTTTTT

George, that bottomless bundle of fizzing energy, seemed even more lively around his favorite people, his heart on full display. And, if you were honest, it was doing funny things to your head and heart.

I would die for him. Girl PLEASSEEE

He caught your wrist in his soapy hand, turning you back towards him. Your heart leapt into your throat at the intensity of his gaze, his jaw feathering with tension as his eyes searched your face. They were so dark, nearly black from his dilated pupils. His dry hand rose slowly, as if afraid you might startle. He dragged the back of his fingers along your cheek before sliding them into the hair at the nape of your neck.

THE WAY MY STOMACH DROPPED GIRL. GIRL. GIRL. GIRLLLL.

THIS WAS SO FUCKING SATISFYING I CANT EVEN TELL YOU I WAS FOAMING IN THE FUCKKNG MOUTH AND I CANT SAY I EVEN EXAGGERATING I FELT MY SALIVA IN MY MOUTH I need to be put down

“Ahem,” someone cleared their throat and you sprang away from George, grabbing a plate as if they hadn’t seen what you were doing. Bill leaned against the doorway, a knowing smirk on his face.

🧍‍♀️😃👋 HI BILL IF ITS ANY CONSOLATION I ALSO THINK UR HOT *RUNS AWAY* FUCKING HELL

Thanks to your distraction, Percy missed an easy move, giving George the first upper hand of the game. You leaned a bit into Percy’s space, and his hands began to tremble. When you walked away, he compensated for his hesitation with a rash move, exposing his Queen.

Oh damn she playing mind games. Respect

You made your move, but didn’t stop dragging your foot up and along his knee, skimming his inner thigh. He sat up a little straighter, narrowing his eyes at the board, and you expected him to make his move, when you feel a hand clasp around your ankle, his touch a brand even through your thick stockings. His eyes lifted to yours, and the hunger in them stole your breath.

🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️😃😃😃✋✋✋✋✋✋✋✋✋ IN FRONT OF THE WHOLE WEASLEY CLAN UHMMMMMM UHHHHH HUHHHHH🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🛑🛑🛑🛑🛑🛑 HELLO??????? I DONT THIS STUPID ASS BIRD BRAIN LIL SHIT SHE WAS DOWN BAD *smokes a blunt* fuckING WHAT WHY

His family laughed, reminding you that you were, in fact, completely surrounded by his parents and siblings, and you dropped your foot. That fucking trickster, he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

✋✋✋✋✋✋✋✋✋✋✋✋ GIRL IM SAYING UHHH U GOT WAYYYY TOOOO COMFORTABLE WAYYYYY TO QUICKLY HELLO POLICE 🚨🚨🚨🚓🚓🚓🚓

You risked removing one hand to show him what a real bird looks like, and he barked a laugh before banking away from you.

WAIT THE PART WHERE HE WAS TEASING HER ABOUT BEING CALLED FEATHERS WAS SUPER CUTE AND THIS WAS SO WITTY AND CUTE AND AHHH

“George,” you cut him off. “Right now, I need you.”

?????????? THE WAY THIS GOT ME SCROLLING BACK TO SEE THEY WERE IN FACT ON A COUCH WHICH MEANS THEY WERE- ARE IN THE LIVING ROOM???? HUHHHH HMMMMMMM HELLO TALK ABOUT LIVING ON EDGE IDK I COULD BE WRONG BUT ALSO I had to calm myself from the idea that someone could walk in on them with the reassurance you wouldn't hurt me and destroy me so ardently. And you didn't. You a real one for that. UGHHHHH. anyway. All of that + BARKING BARKING SO MUCH.

“Shh, baby. You have to be quiet f’me.” George nudged your shirt up with his fingers, kissing along the purplish bruises marring your stomach. “My poor girl.” His thumbs traced the curves of your stomach softly, almost reverent as he gazed up at you. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. so perfect. I’ve wanted to touch you for so long, to feel you beneath me, fuck, hear the pretty little sounds you make for me.” He was rambling now, lost in the act of worshiping your body, his hands and lips traveling gently over your skin.

IM SO NORMAL THIS IS SO VIVID SO CLEAR SO CRISP SO SOFT AND IM SO NORMAL ABOUT IT. GEORGIE GIVING TUMMY KISSES IS INSANE WORK IMMA NEED IT EVERY DAY FOREVER WHAT IF I CRY

“So fucking good,” he mumbled against you, the vibrations of his low voice making your sensitive clit tingle. You tugged on his hair, encouraging him to pay attention to where you needed him most. “I know, I know.” He pressed a kiss to your clit, teasing you for just a moment longer before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking hard.

SLAPPING MY HAND IN MY FUCKING FACE SO HARD TALKING YOU THROUGH IT IS INSANE WORK I WOULD SIMPLY DISINTEGRATE ITS FINE I AM A NORMAL WELL ADJUSTED MEMBER OF SOCIETY I HOPE YOU KNOW EACH LINE IM QUOTING ESPECIALLY THE SMUT HITTTSSS IT HITSZSSSSSSSSSS FUCKKKK

You smirked, bracing your hands against the back of the couch to pick up the pace, your thighs and abs burning from the exertion. But he felt so fucking good, stretching you open, the root of his cock dragging along your clit.

rAW???? I MEAN I SAID RAW BUT SHE STILL HAS ME GAGGGEDDD

I DONT EVEN HAVE A MEME GOOD ENOUGH FOR THIS. THIS MEME IS SUCH LIGHT WORK SO L COMPARED TO WHAT I FEEL.

“So, can I call you my girl without being corrected now?” He teased, tickling your ribs.

You can literally call me tuna salad fool whatchu meannnnn what r u onnnnnn rn

The following morning, you descended from your room to find George at the bottom of the stairs, shirtless, twirling his Beater Bat in his right hand. The same hand that brought you the most earth shattering orgasm of your life.

FERAL SHE US CRAZZYYYY FREAKKY DOWN BAD AND SO IS HEEEEE SHE IS ME AND I NEED TO GET A LOBOTOMY

“What on earth are you doing?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his middle and kissing his cheek, admiring the violet mark you left above his clavicle.

HICKEY❓❓❓❓ ABSOLUTEL MENACE ABSOLUTE INSANE WORK WHAT THE FUCK I NEED A WRENCH

“I just want to talk,” George said, gently moving you aside before prowling up the stairs towards his younger brother.

I'm sobbing im so in love with him (he is a bunch of lines)

“I'll let ‘im get a good whack in,” Molly said, smiling at you. “Since you're his girl and all.”

GAGGED. MS MAAM I- MRS WEASLEY MAN I....

BESTIE LET ME MAKE ONE (1) ☝️ THING STRAIGHT IF IT ISNT ABSOLUTELY CRYSTAL CLEAR. I ABSOLUTELY LOVEEED THIS. I know I went off on YN and read her to filth but again let me be clear I don't hate her. I've read some yn's that are like 😬 oof you know like that is not me that's is Y/N no ma'am I am not substituting my name there. This is not that at alllllll. I'm just a hater MSJSJSJS now that I have the space to be one on the reblog HAHAHAH BUT AGAIN I DID NOT HATE HEE AT ALL. I DONT HATE HER except I do cos 🤽‍♀️ THAT 🤽‍♀️SHOULD🤽‍♀️BE🤽‍♀️ME🤽‍♀️

I actually loveeeeeee the way you unfolded everything. It was really beautiful and it made me miss reading so much cos I have spent an awful lot of time writing. Ughhh it's so good I cannot express it enough. Literally changed my brain I am so happy to find such an amazing George fic because I keep seeing more of Fred when I look up fics for the twins.

Ugh I can't stop speaking praises. 1000000000/10 I would give you my kidney if you asked

A Weekend at the Weasley's

| George Weasley x ravenclaw!reader

summary: you and george become best friends after a poorly timed prank. george has been pestering you for weeks to stay with him at the Burrow for a weekend over the holidays, and you finally cave.

cw: smut (MDNI 18+), dead parents, pining, Percy being a weirdo, quidditch injury and bruising, george still has two ears and a twin, lots of dirty talk and petnames, equal parts fluff and smut

an: george and reader are over eighteen in this fic. timeline is def wrong. but who caaaaaaares bc it's not me!

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“C’mon, feathers,” George begged, shifting from his place on the couch to kneeling on the floor in front of you. “I promise you’ll enjoy yourself.”

“George, I don’t—”

“Would I ever put you in harm’s way?”

You scoffed. “Well, there was the time you lit my potions homework on fire, and the time you transfigured my chocolate frog into an actual frog. Or the time you and Fred—”

“Besides that!” He huffed, resting his chin on your knees, blinking up at you with round eyes. “Pleeeeaaasssseee, y/n? Come to the Burrow with me.”

You sighed, ignoring the way the Gryffindor common room fireplace made his brown eyes almost golden, freshly brewed espresso with nutty foam. You couldn’t deny George was handsome, most girls at Hogwarts fawned over him or his twin, or both. But George was your friend, as you often repeated to yourself in moments like these, when that mischievous smirk softened to a smile just for you.

“Bloody hell. Fine!” You shoved him off of you to escape his puppy-eyed trap.

“Yes!” He whooped, jumping to his feet. “It’s about time my mum meets my best girl—shit!”

You chucked your Potions books at his head. “Not your girl,” you huffed.

“Says you,” he teased, returning the book to you before flopping back down on the red couch, legs draped across your lap.

“Read the damn pages, Weasley.”

You tried to reimmerse yourself in your studies, but can’t seem to fall back into the reading, losing track of each sentence before it’s finished. George had been pestering you for weeks to spend a portion of the upcoming holiday break with him at the Weasley household, and up until now, you’d successfully resisted. But then he found out your grandparents were going on a trip to Spain for two weeks and became unbearable.

When George set his mind to something, he was stubborn as an ox.

And, despite yourself, you wanted to spend a few more days with him. You loved the Weasley siblings you’d met at school, and heard countless tales of Molly Weasley’s unbelievable Sunday roasts. It couldn’t be that bad, could it?

You were reserved by a nature, a studious and creative Ravenclaw from a muggle household. All things that stood at odds with one, ginger-haired George Weasley. But when a prank in fourth year set for Professor Snape backfired on you, his top student, and ruined your robes, the twins felt so awful they’d taken you to the Three Broomsticks for what George dubbed a “Butterbeer of Forgiveness”.

An unexpected friendship bloomed, and you’d been close with the twin’s ever since, George in particular. You loved Fred, and had countless memories with him, but you and George connected on a deeper level. From the moment you’d met, it was as if you’d always known one another. You could read him almost as well as Fred could, and George could read you better than anyone.

And when he called you things like his ‘best girl’, it turned your knees to jelly, your mind inside out. There was no way you’d finish your work now.

“I’m going back to the Tower. I have no idea how you Gryffindor’s get any work done with all this gold.” You stuffed your books into you back and stood, adjusting your robes.

“I’ll walk you,” George said, tossing his book aside. It looked like he hadn’t made any progress either.

“No, no. Finish your work. I’ll meet you in the Great Hall for breakfast, bags packed.”

“It’s a date!” He called as you walk away, and you can practically hear the grin on his face.

“Not a date!” You tossed over your shoulder as you stepped through the portrait.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“My darlings!” Molly cooed, collecting her youngest two children into a massive hug at the train station terminal. You hid behind George, hoping somehow that she’d overlook your presence entirely. But of course, George wasn’t having it.

“Mum, this is y/n!” He grabbed you by the shoulders and thrust you out in front.

“George,” you hissed, but Molly was already upon you.

“Oh, y/n! I’ve heard so much about you! It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you. We were absolutely delighted when George’s letter arrived telling us you’d be accompanying him,” she chirped, fussing with your h/c hair and blue and bronze scarf.

“It’s lovely to meet you too, Mrs. Weasley,” you said, smiling at her and her quieter husband, who was busy chatting with Harry and Ron.

George slung an arm over your shoulder, wafting his cinnamon-y cologne over you. “Shall we?”

You scowled up at him as he dragged you along behind his family, oblivious to your hesitation, or willfully ignoring it.

The crowded car ride home was chaotic, with everyone speaking loudly over one another, George and Fred the loudest of all in either ear, and by the time you arrived, you heart was thrumming loudly in your head, your chest tight with anxiety.

All you could think about was throwing yourself out of the car door and running back to Hogwarts on foot.

Everyone poured out of the car, bounding across the lawn and up to the slightly crooked, red-roofed home, smoke buffeting cheerfully from the many chimneys.

“Y/n?” George said, pausing when he realized you weren’t in step beside him. Something in your expression gave you away, and his smile fell. “Hey, what is it?” he asked, jogging back towards you and placing his hands on your arms.

“I, it’s…” words failed you as emotion pinched your throat.

“Too much?” he asked, giving you a sympathetic smile.

You nodded, shame scorching your cheeks as you looked down at your feet. The tips of his boots were touching yours, so much larger, a worn brown leather juxtaposing your shining black.

“It’s going to be alright, love,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to warm you up. “It means a lot to me that you’re here, even if it’s a bit overwhelming. But, hey—” he tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at his handsome, wind-bitten face. “They love you already.”

“You told them about me?” You asked, your nerves alchemizing from wasps to butterflies.

“Of course I did.” He chuckled like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “They’re probably sick to death of hearing about you, honestly.”

“Like how I’ve been tutoring you in Potions for two years?” you taunted.

“I’m sure they assumed after I told them your were the brightest witch in our year.” His eyes twinkled with mischief, ginger hair falling across his brow, and your heart gave a new sort of thump. One that made you a bit queasy with it’s intensity.

“I don’t know about brightest,” you argued as he tucked you under his arm once again, leading you toward the open front door.

“I do,” he murmured, ushering you inside and into his mother’s waiting embrace.

“C’mere, sweetheart. Help me with these rolls.” She tugged you down the hall, leaving George to be ambushed by his brothers.

“Who’s the eagle?” You heard what you assumed it be the eldest ask before you were whisked into the hearth-like kitchen.

Twenty minutes later and you were back at George’s side, sandwiched between him and Ginny at the dinner table, while everyone fought for a foothold in the conversation.

George’s thigh was warm against your own, familiar and grounding, and you resisted the urge to lean into him fully for shelter. Dutifully, he started filling both of your plates as dishes went by, allowing you to sit and take it all in. He snagged the bowl of garlic potatoes from Ron and added a giant scoop to your plate, knowing they were your favorite.

“Thank you,” you mumbled to him, and he gave your shoulder a light bump in response.

“So, y/n. George mentioned you’re a Potions whiz?” Arthur asked through a mouthful of roll.

Heat crept up your neck as everyone’s attention swiveled to you. “It’s my favorite subject, yes sir,” you answered sheepishly.

“She passed her Potions O.W.L. in fourth year,” George said proudly, beaming down at you. “She’s onto custom lesson plans with Snivelus now.”

“George!” Molly corrected, but he only laughed.

“That’s impressive,” Percy said, nodding at you from across the table. “Brilliant and beautiful.”

“I, uh, thanks,” you stutter, stuffing a forkful of potatoes into your mouth.

George stiffened, but his smile never wavered. “That she is.”

“So, what do your parents do? Were they in Ravenclaw as well?” Arthur asked.

The blood drained from your face. You had so hoped this wouldn’t come up.

George’s hand fell onto your leg, his long fingers looping around your pinky and twining your hand with his. “She lives with her grandparents. Muggles,” George said, the finality in his tone ensuring there would be no further questions.

Arthur stuttered an apology, and the rest of the table looked away nervously. But Molly smiled proudly at her son, a slightly flush to her round cheeks.

Again, your heart gave that brutal pang, and your hand squeezed his a little more tightly.

The meal continued on, and you blessedly fell into the background while the other’s talked about their work and the school year. Or, you at least thought you fell into the background, but every time you glanced up, you found Percy’s gaze lingering on you, hawkish.

You had met the third eldest brother on many occasions, as he often escorted you from the Gryffindor common room to the Tower when curfew struck. But he’d never looked at you like that. And frankly, it made your skin crawl.

You weren’t naive. You knew you were beautiful, intelligent, witty, all of the things that drew a wandering eye. But Percy was far from someone you’d be interested in. And you were here with George, after all, even if it was for purely platonic reasons.

You shifted a little when Percy’s gaze lingered a fraction too long, and accidentally alerted George to your discomfort. He leaned down towards you, his height ensuring your head barely reached his shoulder.

“Okay, feathers?” He murmured, but caught Percy flinching his gaze away at the same moment. “Percy bothering you?” he whispered, and you shook your head no. An obvious lie by the way you shifted marginally closer to George when Percy’s gaze returned. “I’ll handle it.” George straightened, slipping back into his ongoing conversation with Fred and Charlie, but you felt his hand skim past your leg, brushing against your calf as he reached for his wand.

The contact sent a tremor through your muscles, your nerves stretching towards every point of contact with him until it was all you could think about.

“George, what are you—”

Everyone but you and the twins scrambled up, Molly quickly tossing the cauldron of water at Percy’s pants.

“Could’ve been a little more subtle,” Fred chastised George with a smirk.

“I wasn’t going for subtlety,” George replied. “I was going for ‘burning his bollocks off’.”

You hide your snicker behind your hand, the last of your anxiety unraveling. George was with you, you were safe.

Once the fire was out, dinner was disbanded with the twins being sentenced to dishes duty, since it had to be one of them that set their brother’s trousers on fire. You were whisked off on a house tour by Ginny, who eagerly showed you the in’s and out’s of the Burrow until you were dragging your feet, eyes heavy with exhaustion. But you had to admit that you were feeling more at ease, the Burrow and it’s residents wrapping around you like a favorite blanket.

You collapsed into bed just after midnight, a flickering glow in your chest, and a red-haired trickster in your thoughts.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Two more days passed at the Weasley residence, filled with games, oversized meals, books, and antics. There was never a dull moment with the twins and Charlie around.

But the best part, by far, was watching George’s mischevious walls come down, and seeing the softer, more relaxed version of him step forth. He was a devoted brother and son, often forgoing his own needs to help his mother reach something in the kitchen, or offer Ron a bit of girl advice. He spent many hours in deep conversation with is father and older brothers, speaking to a wide breadth of subjects you had no idea he had any knowledge about.

He seemed older somehow, more mature than you’d ever given him credit for, and it was undoing the years of resolve you’d cultivated to preserve your friendship.

It didn’t help that he constantly referred to you as ‘his girl’, and any number of tooth-aching pet names. Could he really mean it? You always assumed it was part of some joke you were the butt of, but now…

“George and y/n!” Molly called across the dinner table, breaking you from your thoughts. “Dishes, please!”

Your heart skipped a beat. You and George hadn’t had a moment alone since you’d arrived, and you were eager to soak up some undivided attention.

“Yes, ma’am,” George said cheerfully, rising to start collecting the plates. You hopped up to join him, and everyone else filtered out of the kitchen, arguing about what game to play that evening.

You scrapped while he scrubbed, and fell into easy conversation about the past few days.

“My mum really loves you, y’know,” he said, dunking a plate under the soapy water. “Dad too. He was raving about your thoughts on electric kettles yesterday.”

“I like them a lot too,” you replied, turning to hide your blush while tossing a half-eaten roll in the bin.

“Yeah?” he asked, glancing down at you. “I really hope you’re enjoying yourself. I know I sort of forced you to come, and then you were so anxious. And I know the house is loud and drafty, and the meals are a bit chaotic, and fucking Percy can’t keep his damn eyes to himself—”

Not knowing how else to soothe his worries, you stood on your toes and pressed a kiss into his cheek, derailing his rant into stunned silence.

“I’m really glad you brought me, Georgie,” you said, holding his wide-eyed expression for a moment before reaching for another dish.

“Tell me if I’ve misread this,” he murmured, tilting your head up towards him, his lips close enough that you could feel his warm breath across your skin. “Tell me to stop.”

Your heart galloped away, your mind turning to goo as the full scope of his longing came into focus. Heat unspooled through you at the way he angled your head to accommodate his towering frame, in complete control, but giving you every opportunity to stop him.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you gave a small shake of your head. No, please don’t stop.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his nose brushing against yours as he drew you closer. You pressed your body to his, desperate for his solidity, his warmth, as you trembled with anticipation. He guided your hand to rest around his neck, and you dug your fingers into his hair.

“George,” you breathed, his name a plea, a desperate prayer.

He closed the last millimeter of distance, caressing your lips with his, a delicate, wishful kiss. More cautious than you’d ever seen him. You tightened your grip on his hair, rising onto your toes to kiss him back a bit harder.

You felt the tension in his body unwind and his hand grasped your waist, his tongue sliding along your lower lip, teasing, promising, and your bones turned to mush, your lower belly fluttering with excitement.

“Ahem,” someone cleared their throat and you sprang away from George, grabbing a plate as if they hadn’t seen what you were doing. Bill leaned against the doorway, a knowing smirk on his face. “Father has requested that y/n joins him for a cuppa before the chess tourney begins. Something about doorbells?”

“Oh! Of course!” You replied, dropping the dish into the sink and drying your hands on the towel over the stove. “Thanks, Bill!” You hurry past the eldest Weasley son, cheeks absolutely flaming.

You could barely hold a conversation with Arthur, to fixated on the way your body hummed in the wake of his son’s touch. You were eager to finish what you’d started, but by the time you and Arthur emerged from his study, George was wrapped up in a game of Wizard’s Chess with Ron.

George’s eyes tracked you as you moved into the room, perching on an armchair by the fireplace. Bill shook his head, elbowing Charlie, who chuckled into his whiskey.

“Y/n, want to play against me?” Fred asked from his spot on the floor, crisscross in front of a chessboard on the coffee table.

“Sure,” you said, happy for the distraction.

“Losers rotate out until the winners from each table play one another,” Fred explained as you sat across from him. “Percy always wins, but he’s sulking in his room.” Fred winked, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

Quickly, you lose yourself in the game, and it doesn’t take long before you have Fred’s Queen cornered, a path to victory clear. In a final move, you take Fred’s Queen and win the game in ten minutes flat.

“Merlin, she kicked your ass!” Ron shouted, and the room bursts into laughter.

You flushed under the praise and start reorganizing the pieces. Despite yourself, your eyes flicked toward George, but found he was already looking at you, a warmth in his dark eyes that made your hands quit working, and you knocked over the piece you just arranged.

“My turn!” Ginny said, shoving Fred out of the way.

“Anyone need anything from the kitchen?” George asked, rising to his feet after swiftly defeating Harry.

A chorus of no’s rang out, but you’re already absorbed into the game, finding that Ginny was much better at chess than Fred. You started to make your third move, finding an opening, when you felt a calloused hand brush along the side of your neck, sliding beneath your hair to rest heavily against your skin.

“Need anything, love?” George whispered in your ear, and the blood rushed from your head, leaving you vaguely dizzy, eyes sparkling when you blinked up at him.

“N-no, I’m fine. Thank you,” you stuttered.

“A tea would be nice, darling brother!” Ginny said, jerking you back to the present, and the move you forgot entirely.

“Coming right up.” George’s hand squeezed your neck lightly before falling away, and he disappeared into the kitchen.

The rest of the night carried on like that, lingering glances and scalding touches, the heat between the two of you bordering on incendiary.

You were taking a small break from kicking Weasley ass when Percy emerged from his room, leveling a challenging glare at George. “I’ll take next round,” he said, fixing Charlie with a look.

“Fine.” George made his final move, knocking over Charlie’s queen. “Have a seat.”

Charlie vacated the spot, muttering something about ‘fucking dorks’, and Percy sat across from his younger brother. The energy shifted in the room, going from jovial and teasing to almost hostile. Weasley’s were competitive by nature, the twins in particular, but the tension heightened considerably beyond that as they sized each other up.

Piece by piece, they started moving around the board, an even match as far as you could tell. But based on the murmurings of the family, Percy was off his game a bit, and you had a feeling it had something to do with the way his eyes kept drifting back towards you.

Interesting, you thought, rising from your place on the couch to circle their table, feigning curiosity in the game. Percy visibly tensed, his eyes darting from you to the board and back again. George, however, relaxed, his typical cocky demeanor easing back into his body language.

You knew George noted it but he opted for a subtler move, then leaned back in his chair to watch Percy squirm, a slight smirk on his face. When Percy realized what he’d done, he flushed with irritation, his shoulders squared and tight.

And for my final move…

You leaned down to George, nearly resting your chin on his shoulder. His spiced cologne greeted you, tinged with the cinnamon punch of the firewhiskey he’d been sipping on throughout the games. “I didn’t know you were so good at Wizard’s Chess,” you murmured, close enough that your lips grazed the shell of his ear.

His smirk grew as Percy fidgeted, unable to pick a move, struggling to not stare down your sweater. “I have many talents you’ve yet to experience,” he replied, voice low enough that only you could hear him. A thrill rushed through you, so you bowed out before you took things too far, leaving George to deal the killing blow.

Shortly after, you won your final match against Bill, who you suspected threw the game in your favor, and suddenly it was you sitting across from George, the whole family crowded around the table, watching with bated breath.

“Hello, darling,” George cooed, smiling.

“Weasley,” you clipped, all business.

His eyes flashed at the challenge, and he took a slow sip of whiskey. “Ladies first,” he said, setting the glass down.

You started him off easy, confident that you had this in the bag. George was smart, but most of his skill came from his ability to disarm, not his ability to play chess. You, as it so happened, were skilled at both.

It didn’t take long for George’s cocky smirk to fall, his brow to knit together with focus as you guided him slowly into a trap of your own design.

His brow suddenly quirked up, the corner of his mouth lifting, you knew you’d been caught.

“Clever girl,” he purred, moving his Rook and collapsing the trap you’d spent ten rounds constructing. “Almost had me,” he taunted, leaning back in his chair. His legs reached all the way across to yours in his languid position, his sock feet tapping absently against the legs of your chair.

You only hummed in response, crossing your legs. While searching the board, you stretched your stocking-covered foot towards him, sliding it along the inside of his calf. His muscles tensed for a moment, his eyes widening a fraction, before he settled down, watching you with heavy-lidded eyes.

You’d never seen your sweet, good-natured friend look so menacing.

“I should know better than to play chess with a Ravenclaw,” he said, making a weak play with a pawn. “Starting to feel like I don’t stand a chance.”

“I don’t know,” you said, stealing the pawn and trapping his King. “You’re doing better than I expected for a younger twin.”

A chorus off oooh’s met your dig, and George huffed a laugh before freeing his King. “You’ll regret that,” he warned with a devilish smile.

“And you’ll regret that.” George fell right into your trap. You skirted his King, stealing his Queen right out from under him. His jaw dropped, and the family erupted into cheers.

“We have a new champion!” Molly cheered, hauling you up to celebrate.

You grinned, allowing them to parade you around. George smiled up at you, a real, proud smile, and it made your stomach somersault. Then, the grandfather clock chimed midnight, rattling the house on it’s structure.

“Alright, enough excitement! Everyone off to bed!” Molly ordered. George’s eyes locked on you, gauging what you would do next. For the first time, you cursed sharing a room with Ginny, and cursed Fred for being born.

As everyone grabbed their things and scattered off to bed, George managed to catch you at the second stair landing before Ginny’s room, startling you.

“Well played, feathers,” he said, brushing his fingertips over your forearm as he looks up at you.

“You were a formiddable opponent.” You shivered under his touch, the heat from earlier instantly flaring back to life.

He stepped up a stair, bringing himself a head taller than you, close enough that you could smell the fire whiskey on his lips.

Could I taste it too?

“Goodnight, love.” He pressed a quick kiss to your temple before breezing past you and bounding up the next set of steps to his shared room with Fred.

You leaned against the wall to catch your breath, heart pounding in your chest. This was not the turn you expected this trip to take, but you couldn’t pretend that a part of you hadn’t wished for it. That it wasn’t why you tried so hard to avoid the trip all together.

But now that you and George had crossed that line, you couldn’t imagine what you’d been so afraid of. You only wished you’d done it sooner.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The following morning, you’re one of the last to drift down to the kitchen, having spent most of the night tossing and turning, too worked up to sleep properly. You rounded the corner and come to a stop, surprised to find George alone in the kitchen.

“Morning,” he said with a lazy smile.

“Good morning.” You padded towards him, accepting the coffee cup from his outstretched hand. “How’d you sleep?” you asked, blowing gently on the steaming brew.

“Didn’t,” he said, shifting closer to you. His hair was still a little messy from sleep, or lackthereof, his expression soft and voice gravelly.

“Why not?” You asked, taking a tentative sip before setting the mug down on the counter.

“Couldn’t stop thinking...” He dipped his head towards you, his nose brushing your temple.

“About?” The word came out breathless, the coil of want you'd been battling all night tightening with a vengeance.

“What it would feel like to kiss you again,” he murmured, kicking your heart into overdrive.

“And why don’t you?” Your hand creeped along his t-shirt, feeling the muscles along his abdomen sculpted by years of Quiddtich.

“Gotta set up the pitch. We’re playing this afternoon.” His demeanor shifted, all playful and energetic innocence. “See you out there!” He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, then hurried outside, leaving you wet and bewildered in the overheated kitchen.

An hour later, you were perched precariously on an old broom, knuckles white from gripping it so hard. Ginny rocketed past you with ease, nearly throwing you off balance.

“I think you need a new nickname,” George teased, steadying you. “Feathers may not be apt.”

You risked removing one hand to show him what a real bird looks like, and he barked a laugh before banking away from you.

Soon, the game was in full swing, with you, Ron, Fred, and Charlie against George, Ginny, Harry, and Bill. You had only ever ridden a broom in first year, so you were massively out of your depth.

You were given the role of Seeker, opposite Harry, and had no hope of accomplishing a damn thing. Harry was like lightning on his Firebolt, and you bobbed around like a lame pigeon.

Thankfully, none of them seemed to be taking the game very seriously. You were content to float around the property, occasionally remembering that you we're supposed to be looking for something small and golden.

After awhile the boys started to get rowdier, pushing and shoving and bludgeoning.. You tried to steer clear, watching George whack the hell out of any bludger that dare cross his airspace. You would not want to be on the other end of one of those.

“Y/n, watch out!” Ginny cried.

You looked back from where you were staring off into space, just in time to see George barreling towards you, a bludger about five feet in front of him.

You tried to move, to steer the broom literally anywhere, but it wouldn't cooperate. At the last second you managed to pull up, but not far enough. The bludger hit you square in the stomach, knocking the wind from your lungs and nearly forcing up your breakfast with the power of it. Stars danced behind your eyes, your grip began to slip from the handle as darkness raced towards you.

Something else slammed into you, wrapping itself around you—

“Y/n? Baby, are you alright?” George. You could tell you were moving, but couldn't seem to make your eyes focus, keep your body from trembling. Your cheeks were wet, the breeze frigid against your damp skin. Am I crying?

Then you were on the ground, blessed ground, and then you were up again, cradled against George's chest.

He was shouting at someone you couldn't see. “I swear on fucking Dumbledore, I'm going to beat you bloody with that fucking bat—”

“George!”

“Get her some ice,” he barked at someone else. “I'm right here, love, you're okay. Just try and breathe.”

You clung to his dampening shirt, the shock and pain keeping you teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. You could hear other people talking, but your whole world narrowed to two points: George's heartbeat and the blinding pain radiating from your stomach.

“It hurts,” you whimpered, barely recognizing the pitiful sound of your own voice.

“I know, love. I know. I’ve got you, I promise.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, soft and trembling. A moment later, he laid you on the couch, careful not to jostle you more than necessary.

Molly passed something into George's hands. “For the pain,” she whispered.

George crouched down next to you, holding the edge of the cup to your lips. “Take a sip, sweetheart.” You shook your head, your Potions safety training overpowering your reason. “Please, y/n. Let me take the pain away.”

You took a small sip, the tea pungent and floral, but immediately the edges of the pain began to soften. But the relief was short-lived. Exhaustion followed close behind it, dragging you down into a dreamless sleep.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

When you come to, the Weasley house was dark around you. The only light came from the moon spilling through window panes and the smoldering fire across from the couch.

A light snore drew your attention, and you looked up to see George above you, his head lolled onto the back of the couch, sleeping soundly. Your head was resting in his lap, his sweater piled under your head as pillow, and his large hand was stretched across your stomach, fingers splayed from your ribs to your hip bones.

God, your stomach. You moved to sit up, memories of earlier filtering through the fading grogginess of the Potion Molly gave you, but surprisingly, your stomach was only a little sore. More like an overexerted muscle than rearranged organs and cracked ribs.

George stirred, lifting his head to peer at your through half-closed lids.

“What are you doing down here?” you asked, sweeping a strand of red hair from his brow.

He came fully awake then, straightening. “How do you feel?” He asked, caressing your cheek, then running his hands over your arms, your ribs, the swell of your hips.

“The Potion did its job, I feel mostly fine,” you said, catching his hands to stop their exploration, and the buzzy desire they coaxed to life.

“Are you sure?” His features softened with relief, his fingers twining with yours.

“I'm sure. Thank you for saving me.” You leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, ignoring the slight protest in your abdomen muscles.

“Always,” George said, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “I'm sorry I wasn't close enough to stop it from hitting you in the first place. It happened so fast—”

“Love, it wasn't your fault,” you shushed, reaching out to cup his face and stroking your thumb along his cheekbone.

“I just…” he trailed off, leaning into your palm. “I always want to be there to protect you. Or for whatever you else you might need. Do you need anything now? Water, tea? Are you hungry? You missed dinner—”

“George,” you cut him off. “Right now, I need you.”

Desire eclipsed the worry on his face, his eyes shading. “Are you sure you're not in pain? No fogginess or headaches—”

You leaned in and kissed him, a light, floaty peck, silencing his incessant questioning. You appreciated his concern, but there were other parts of you that needed his attention far more. He immediately took charge of the kiss, shifting his weight to lay you back onto the couch. His body rested heavily between your thighs, his mouth devouring yours in fervent, searing kisses.

His tongue lapped at your bottom lip and you opened for him, allowing him to take everything he sought. He kissed you like he didn't know if he'd get another chance, like he'd been waiting his entire life for this moment. It stole your breath, made your toes curl and your pussy pulse with excitement, slick already collecting between your thighs.

You nipped at his lower lip, earning a soft grunt in appreciation. His hips canted forward a fraction, though it seemed he was holding himself back. His lips traveled along your jaw, down the valley of your throat with teasing licks and love bites and you arched into him, a moan spilling from your lips before you could stop it.

“How long?” you asked, breathless, raking your fingers through his hair while he nursed a mark just under your right tit.

He looked up at you through is lashes, his lips leaving your skin with a pop. “Since that night at the Three Broomsticks,” he said, shifting upwards so he could look you in the eye.

“The ‘Butterbeer of Forgiveness’?” You mouth fell open, shock rocking through you.

He snickered. “Of course, why do you think I kept sending Fred to the bar?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You ran your fingers over his jaw, feeling the rough stubble against your skin.

“I—” his voice caught, his gaze averting from you. “I loved you too much to risk losing you.”

Elation soared through you, and you couldn’t stop the smile that split your face. “George,” you said, bumping your nose against his. His eyes flicked back to you, watery and rimmed with red. “I love you too.”

His smile was like the first sun after an endless winter, and he kissed you like the first torrential rain of spring. The heat of summer came quickly though, and soon you were gasping for him again, your hips pressing against the hard ridge in his pants.

“Need you,” you whined into his mouth.

“I’m here, love.” He kissed down your throat again, pausing for only a moment to nip at your taught nipples through your shirt before continuing his downward decent. “Lift up for me.” You lifted your hips, allowing him to tug down your jeans, exposing your sodden red panties to his greedy eyes. “Gryffindor red, huh?” he teased, and you threw your arms over your face to hide your blush. “All for me?”

You nodded, your heart in your throat.

“It’s a shame I’ll have to ruin them.’

“What—” Riiiip! The cold air lapped against your slick pussy, chased by the heat of George’s tongue as he dragged it through your folds. “Oh, fuck—”

“Shhh,” he warned, before flicking his tongue against your swollen clit.

You bit down on the back of your wrist to keep from crying out when he switched from licking to sucking, the walls of your cunt fluttering around nothing. He moved down, flattening his tongue against your entrance and collecting the wetness that pooled there. He gave a light hum of pleasure that had your eyes crossing, his tongue delving deeper in search of another taste.

You very nearly cried out, having to clap a hand over your mouth to stifle the sound. Pleasure shot through you, singeing your nerves and liquifying your muscles. So quickly you were unraveling for him, going stupid under his ministrations.

A long digit prodded at your entrance, collecting some wetness before easing inside of you. Your cunt welcomed him gladly, clamping down around his finger.

“Merlin, baby. You're so tight,” he panted, shifting to watch you take another one of his fingers, slick already running into his palm. “Relax, love. Shh, “ he soothed, curling his fingers to pet the inside of your walls, making your mind go blank as bliss washed through you. “That's it, darling. Just like that.”

The knot in your stomach began to wind tighter, burning through you as you fought to relax, to be good for him. But your orgasm was so fucking close, just a little more—

His lips found your clit again, sucking in time with your racing heart as his fingers coaxed you open, and the knot severed. Your peak slammed into you, stealing your breath so you couldn't even cry out to warn him, to sing his praises the way he deserved. Your muscles locked, your cunt bearing down as him as pleasure tore through you until you could do nothing but shiver beneath him.

“Shit, y/n. That was fucking beautiful,” he cooed, easing his fingers out of you and lapping up the release coating him to the wrist. “You alright?” He shifted upwards, kissing your bruised abdomen before pecking your lips, your eyes still glassy and unfocused.

“I've never come that hard,” you pant, throwing your arms around his neck and raining kisses over his slick-soaked face. “What the fuck.”

He chuckled, flushing under your attention. “Happy to oblige.”

You caught the last word in your mouth, kissing him deeply, desperately. Your body was already keying itself up again, and by the twitching length against your hip, he was desperate for you too.

He hooked an arm under your back and hauled you up to straddle his lap, his back pressed against the couch. “This okay?” He asked, sliding his rough hands under your shirt to skate along your skin.

You nodded, rolling your hips to drag your bare pussy along the bulge in his jeans, a skitter of pleasure making your breath hitch.

“Fuck, y/n,” he hissed, hips bucking up against you.

“Yes, please fuck me.” You kissed along his jaw and nibbled at his ear lobe, reaching between your bodies to find his zipper.

He did the same, helping you undo the button and tug down the zipper, his cock springing free from his boxers. The head nudged against your clit, hard and heated, and you whimpered.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he lifted you slightly, guiding the head to your dripping entrance. Slowly, he eased you down into him, your pussy more than ready to accommodate his length. A rough groan resounded from his chest, and you silenced it with another kiss. His cock stretched you open, hitting that spongy, sinful spot before sliding deeper until he bottomed out, the head nudging your cervix.

“So fucking tight, baby. Bloody hell,” he whispered, voice strained.

“Feels so fucking good,” you whine, grinding your hips against his.

George buried his face into your neck, stifling a moan. His grip loosened, allowing you to start lifting and lowering yourself, riding him slowly, savoring every inch of his cock as it dragged through you.

“M’not gonna last long if you keep doing that,” he warned, mouthing at your neck with sloppy kisses.

His lifted up again only to snap his hips against yours, his hands a vice on your waist as he started pounding into you from below.

“Oh, fuck, Georgie—”

“Quiet, love. You don't want the whole house to hear how good I make you feel, do you?”

You nodded, a whine escaping through your teeth. One of his hands came up to cover your mouth, silencing the sound and infringing on your air supply, callouses rubbing against your kiss-swollen skin.

“I’d love nothing more than for Percy to hear you screaming for me, but this is just for us,” he whispered, breathless as he fucked into you. “Gonna come for me again?”

Your fingers dug into the couch, another peak racing towards you. You bounced with his movements, desperately chasing your high, the ache in your abdomen long forgotten.

“That's it, love. Fuck, m’gonna come.” He threw his head back, a strangled groan accompanying the kick of his cock inside you, stretching your further before pumping you full of his release.

The hot surge of his orgasm sent you flying over the edge, ecstasy pulling your under while your cunt milked him dry with vicious pulls. You muffled your cry into his shoulder as he fucked you through it, until you both collapsed onto the couch, thoroughly spent and panting.

His lips found your forehead, your temple, his hands gliding along your spine, over your hips, soothing you as you trembled against him.

“I love you,” he breathed into your hair. “I can't believe you're here with me.”

You grazed the racing pulse under his jaw with your nose. “I love you, too.” It was exhilarating to say, almost as thrilling as the orgasm you just shared, a massive weight was lifted off your shoulders.

“So, can I call you my girl without being corrected now?” He teased, tickling your ribs.

“I suppose.” You giggled, pecking the corner of his smirk.

“What on earth are you doing?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his middle and kissing his cheek, admiring the violet mark you left above his clavicle.

“Waiting for Ron,” Fred supplied from the kitchen.

“Who’s waiting for me—oh fuck.” Ron stopped dead at the top of the stairs, still dressed in his pajamas, staring wide eyed at George, or more specifically, the bat in his hand.

“I just want to talk,” George said, gently moving you aside before prowling up the stairs towards his younger brother.

Ron took off up the stairs, their steps thundering through the house as George gave chase.

“George! Shit,” you huffed, glancing at the rest of the family who'd come to see what the fuss was about.

“I'll let ‘im get a good whack in,” Molly said, smiling at you. “Since you're his girl and all.”

Your cheeks flamed, but they only met you with warm hugs and laughter, like they'd been expecting this from the beginning.

Crack!

“Ow!”

"That's for hurting my girl, you git."

Fin. 🐦‍⬛

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Thank you so much for reading!

If you enjoyed, you can check out my published work here.

Much love,

Allie

#LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE #EXPLODING SO MUCH WITH LOVE #george weasley x reader #george weasley smut #george weasley fanfiction

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missarchive · 2 days ago

Text

preview - american jesus, spencer reid

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

just a little taster for a sugar daddy!spencer series im cooking up ;)

Link to full fic

this will be a smut!!

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind. What did you want? Money was the obvious answer—wasn’t it? That was why you were here in the first place. But now, with him, it didn’t feel so simple.

You: That depends, what are you offering?

The pause before his response was agonizing, each second stretching longer than the last. And then it came:

DrReid: Time. Money. Attention. Answers, if you’re brave enough to ask the right questions.

Your breath caught, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy cloak. He wasn’t offering material things, at least not yet. He was offering something far more valuable—and far more dangerous.

You swallowed hard, your palms damp as you considered your next move. He’d shifted the power dynamic yet again, pulling you deeper into a game you weren’t entirely sure you knew how to play.

You: And what do you want in return?

His response was immediate, his words a quiet, commanding echo in your mind:

DrReid: Exactly what you’re willing to give.

The simplicity of his answer hit you harder than any declaration of wealth or desire could have. It wasn’t just about money or power or control—it was about you. Your choices, your limits, your willingness to engage in this careful, intoxicating dance.

And that realisation sent a shiver down your spine.

For a moment, you stared at the screen, your pulse thrumming in your ears. You could walk away now. Close the laptop, block his profile, and pretend this never happened. But the truth was, you didn’t want to.

Because for the first time since you’d joined this site, you felt seen. Not as an object, not as a commodity, but as a person.

His words clung to you, each syllable daring you to define what you were prepared to offer. He was turning the mirror back on you, forcing you to confront not just the situation but yourself.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure of how to proceed. He wasn’t playing by the rules you expected, and that made him unpredictable. Dangerous. But it also made him irresistible.

You: That’s a clever way of saying nothing

You: Ambiguity suits you.

The reply came quickly, almost as if he’d anticipated your deflection.

DrReid: Clarity can be earned, if you’re willing to play the game.

Your breath hitched. There it was again—that quiet, assured confidence that pulled you in despite every warning bell ringing in your head. He wasn’t offering platitudes or empty promises. He was offering a challenge, one that was as maddening as it was magnetic.

You: And what game is that?

The pause before his answer felt deliberate, a calculated silence that only heightened your anticipation. When his message finally appeared, it sent a shiver through you:

DrReid: The one we’re already playing. You just haven’t realised it yet.

Your pulse quickened, your palms damp as you stared at the screen. He was toying with you, but not in the way you’d experienced before. This wasn’t about cheap thrills or transparent power plays. This was about control—subtle, seductive, and entirely in his hands.

You: I don’t recall agreeing to any rules.

His reply was swift, the confidence in his words cutting through the haze of your thoughts:

DrReid: You didn’t have to. You agreed the moment you responded.

The audacity of his statement left you momentarily breathless. He was right, of course, and that infuriated you. But it also thrilled you in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

You: You’re awfully sure of yourself.

The response came almost immediately:

DrReid: Confidence is the privilege of knowing what you want. Do you?

Your chest tightened, his words striking a nerve you hadn’t expected. What did you want? It was supposed to be simple—a means to an end, a way to solve your financial problems without complicating your life. But now, with him, it felt far from simple.

You hesitated, your mind racing. This wasn’t like the other conversations you’d had on this site. He wasn’t just offering money or gifts; he was offering an exchange of a different kind. One that blurred the lines between power and vulnerability, control and surrender.

You: I think you already know the answer.

The reply came almost instantly:

DrReid: Good. Then we’re getting somewhere.

You exhaled sharply, the tension in your chest both exhilarating and suffocating. He had you cornered, and he knew it. But the worst part? You didn’t want to leave.

You: And where exactly is that?

His response sent a chill down your spine:

DrReid: Where we figure out if you’re ready to trust me.

The weight of his words settled over you, heavy and inescapable. Trust. It was a loaded word, especially here, in a space where every interaction felt transactional. But with him, it didn’t feel like a demand—it felt like an invitation.

You swallowed hard, your fingers trembling as you typed your response:

You: Trust is earned, Dr. Reid. How do you plan on earning mine?

The pause before his reply was excruciating, every second stretching longer than the last. And then, finally, his message appeared:

DrReid: Patience. Honesty. And just enough mystery to keep you coming back.

Your breath caught, the sheer confidence of his words leaving you momentarily speechless. He wasn’t just playing the game—he was rewriting the rules, pulling you deeper into his orbit with every word.

And despite the warning bells ringing in your head, you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting more.

You: Then I suppose we’ll see how well you play.

His reply came quickly, the final twist of the knife:

DrReid: We already are.

The message lingered on the screen, a challenge and a promise all at once. And as you stared at it, your heart racing and your mind spinning, one thing became clear:

Here’s the continuation, intensifying the emotional and psychological stakes, as well as the power dynamics:

You could feel it in the way your heart raced, in the way your mind struggled to pull together coherent thoughts. It was maddening. Dangerous. And yet, some part of you craved the thrill of it.

You: What makes you so sure of that?

The reply came quickly, like he’d been waiting for you to challenge him:

DrReid: Because you’re still here.

Your lips parted in a soft exhale, the truth in his words sending a shiver down your spine. He was right—you were still here, still engaged, still drawn to him in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

You: Maybe I’m just curious.

His response was immediate, his confidence unshaken:

DrReid: Curiosity is the first step to surrender. And you’re closer than you think.

Your pulse quickened, his words striking a nerve you hadn’t realized was exposed. Surrender. The word hung there, heavy and intoxicating, pulling you deeper into his web.

You: Surrender isn’t in my vocabulary.

His answer was slower this time, deliberate, calculated:

DrReid: That’s because no one’s ever taught you how to do it properly.

The breath left your lungs in a quiet rush, your body betraying you with a thrill that raced down your spine. He wasn’t just confident—he was audacious, pushing boundaries you didn’t even know you had.

You: And you think you’re the one to teach me?

His response was devastatingly simple:

DrReid: I know I am.

Your throat tightened, his certainty pulling you further into the undertow. There was no pre-tense with him, no fumbling for the right words to impress or seduce. He spoke with a quiet authority that was impossible to ignore—and even harder to resist.

#missarchive #spencer reid x reader #bau x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds

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777heavengirl · 1 day ago

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Bless the Telephone ; ##02

James Potter x f!muggle!reader

word count: 1,511

warnings: i dont think theres any? lmk...

a/n: :) i hope yall like it, at the rate im pumping these out i might do two updates per week but we'll see how that goes..."

series masterlist

main masterlist

You sighed as you opened the door, the various bags of food, toiletries, clothes, and whatever else you had picked up during the day made your arms feel like they might fall off, cutting into your skin and your circulation. Your fingers had gone numb two stops away from your apartment, you could feel the relief as you dumped half the bags on the kitchen counter.

You dumped the other half and the backpack that hung heavy across your back in your room.

“Hey, darling-” your roommate popped her head up from where she lay on the couch, wild curls practically floating around her. “Yer phone’s been ringing nonstop for like an hour-”

You groaned, glancing at the clock briefly while putting your shopping in their rightful places.

7:30 p.m.

“D’you know who it was?”

“Why would you ever think I’d get up to check?” She popped some chips into her mouth with a laugh

You turned, hands on your hips, a small smirk playing on your lips

“You mean to tell me you’d rather put up with the ringing than get up?”

“Yeah- why not? Turn up the telly and boom- can’t even hear a thing mate” She said, smiling from the couch. You couldn’t help but laugh along with her-

The phone rang, not as violent as that morning two days ago, sound muffled by the wall and your closed door. It was loud nonetheless.

Your roommate turned up the volume of the television.

“Talk of the devil!” she screamed through the roaring sound of whatever trashy game show she was watching.

You dragged yourself to your room, closing the door behind you. You could still hear the exaggerated volume of the telly. The phone kept on ringing, the red light angrily flashing at you to go pick it up already-

“Hello?”

“Where’ve you been?” it was teasing, you wanted to say it was his voice. The mysterious voice on the phone, one Mr James Potter. You weren’t sure. You didn’t know how to feel about it either.

“Who is this?”

“Woah, one day and you’ve already forgotten me- you’re breaking my heart here sweetheart” the voice crackled through the static of the receiver. Oh it was definitely Mr James Potter calling again

“Potter?”

“James- But yes”

“Ah! That one- to what do I owe the pleasure?” You bit your lip slightly, excitement turning in your stomach. You grabbed the base of the phone, moving the machine as close to your bed as the cable would let you, the rest of the stretch between your bed and the telephone could be covered by the curled plastic cord. You sat on the mattress.

“Do you know any other Potters?”

“Just the one- but to be fair, I don't really know you either”

“Mhm… fair enough, I think I only know one other person with your name-”

“Really?”

“Yeah, nasty woman really- called me daft two days ago,” he said, tone serious as if recounting a deeply wounding moment… you let out a laugh “You wouldn’t believe how rude she was to me”

“Oh was she really? That’s terrible news, maybe it was because you called her— a stranger by the way, at four in the bloody morning”

“You got me, wasn’t on purpose though— you still haven’t answered my question by the way” You could hear that little smirk on his lips again

“What would that be Potter?”

“James- but where were you?”

“What’s it to you? Trying to stalk me or something?” you could feel your heartbeat quicken,

“I just tried calling earlier-”

“Yeah, my roommate said, the phone rang a ton— were those all you or should I check my messages?”

“I wasn’t sure I was hitting the right number okay? pissed off a few other people too”

“Oh so this is the norm for you-”

“Hey! It isn’t my fault, I just didn’t know how to do the little- you know…” had this guy ever used a phone before? “call the previous number thing- ugh I don’t know what it’s called but whatever I didn’t know how it worked” he huffed

“Potter, are you a ten-year-old boy? Scratch that, my cousin knows how to do that- maybe you are daft”

“If I say yes will you tell me what you were up to?” he said, you laughed again

“I was running some errands, nothing special… why’d you wanna know?” you raised an eyebrow, you curled the cable around your index finger, the rest of the cool plastic wrapping around your hand.

“Was just wondering…”

A beat.

“I realize now that me calling you back might be strange-”

“You don’t say- only took you about ten minutes of conversation, you didn’t think about that before you called?”

“Not really- my mum says I lack impulse control,”

“I can tell you have zero of that-”

“she blames Dad but we both know she’s the one I got it from” he chuckled, and you couldn’t help but mirror it.

“You still haven’t answered my question, Potter-”

“You really not going to call me James?”

“No- I don’t know you-”

“I guess that's fair enough- what was your question?”

“Why’d you call?” he stayed quiet for a couple of seconds, almost as if thinking deeply about your question before his voice broke through the static again.

“Honestly?”

“Obviously-” you retorted, another chuckle left his lips.

“I don’t really know… I don’t really have a reason I just wanted to talk” you mouled over his answer, strange but not bad.

“You don‘t have friends for that already?”

“You’ve never made new friends with complete strangers?”

“Not like this-” you traced a pattern onto your sheets as you spoke,

“Well, I can be the first! so how old are you?” he sounded giddy “If I say I’m sixty five will you leave me alone?”

“It would be worse- I love old ladies, but they love me immediately so I suspect you aren’t one”

“because I don’t immediately love you?”

“obviously” he mirrored you “I’m twenty-“

“What a coincidence, so am I” you whispered, he heard you nonetheless

You pursed your lips to suppress a smile as James asked questions and explained things about his life that you didn’t ask for. You felt quite silly- talking on the phone with a boy you’d never met, you didn’t know what he looked like, nor if he was really who he said he was.

His tone and his rambles seemed genuine enough, he was a very peculiar boy- talking about how he was mildly scared of the tube but my mate Sirius loved it.

“Is this Sirius one of the voices I heard last time?”

“Yeah- he asked if you were pretty which looking back might’ve been a little rude”

“Eh- maybe, I’d feel terrible to disappoint him though”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know if he’s expecting some striking supermodel to be answering the phone…” you trailed off slightly, James went quiet “I reckon I’m alright though”

“You’re probably selling yourself short doll,“

“Anyway- what do you do?”

“What do you mean love?”

“Like are you in Uni? or something else?”

“Oh! umm- something else for sure”

“What?”

“Potter- like what do you do? you know… with your life”

“I just live? I don’t know- d’you mean like occupationally?”

“Yes occupationally idiot-“

“Okay okay don’t yell at me— you’ll break my little heart babe come on-“ he cleared his throat a couple of times “I kind of work for my father I guess? What do you do?”

“I go to Uni- I also work at a little coffee shop on weekends… what does your father do?”

“he makes hair potions-“ he said, almost choking on his words. you raised an eyebrow

“like hair gel and shit?”

“y-yeah that’s what I meant like… conditioners and s-styling… gels… and shit” you laughed out loud, not being able to conceal it this time. a short series of giggles that delighted James ever so slightly. You could hear him get quiet briefly, almost as if he was running out of words “What do you do in this Uni of yours?”

“Administration… not the most thrilling field I fear”

“I’m assuming you’re not the fondest of it then”

“not particularly, but it’ll do… do you like working for your dad?”

“he’s made a ton of money with his products- I’m very proud of him for it… to be honest probably not what I wanted to do with my life but it’s not… difficult, so I can focus on other things, more exciting things so I really can’t complain…” he was about to continue, rambling about the silver linings of it.

you interrupted “What did you want to do?”

“Pardon?” he asked,

“With your life James- what did you want to do with your life?”

You thought he had stayed quiet, maybe thinking, searching for the words until the dial tone rang in your ear— he had hung up. You stared at the phone as you put it back on the base.

Peculiar boy wasn’t he?

tags ; @ilovejamespottersomuch @ravisinghs-wife @hidontmindtheintrovert @stella-thestars @caspiankingofnarnia @lovelyteenagebeard @starkluvrr @hisparentsgallerryy @leilani13gc

permanent tag ; @laufeysvalentine

pls send me an ask if you wanna be added!

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #marauders #the marauders #the marauders era #marauders era #james #james x reader #james potter fic #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter x reader #james potter #james fleamont potter #james f potter #james f potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you

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elizaleclerc · 3 days ago

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it was all by design 🌟

"what if i told you none of it was accidental?"

summary: hunter!reader starts to realize their feelings for xavier, but he's felt this way the whole time...

song: mastermind by taylor swift

word count: 2.1k

author's note: my first l&ds fic everyone cheer! / mostly fluff / workplace romance (i mean this is canon) / im new to this game don't judge / cheeky makeout sesh / he falls first and hard / sarcastic smug xavier (he's a freak) / sweet talk - nothing too spicy / barely proof read oops

It was simple day at the arcade. You and Xavier decided to take the day off from missions and relax with some fun at the colorful arcade machines. You had won more stuffed plushies than you could feasibly carry in your arms, so Xavier held one in his hand delicately, as if he knew how much those little stuffed creatures meant to you.

“Well I better call it a day, I don’t think I can carry any more of these little guys.” You chuckled as your arms began to grow sore, even with the stuffed creatures’ light weight.

“Yeah, you’re supposed to be resting your muscles and instead here you are.” He gestured towards your arms filled with plushes. You laughed to yourself, refusing to admit he was right.

The two of you walked back to your car and you dumped all of the plushes in the backseat. As you looked at all of the adorable creatures, a realization hit you. You had no more room at your desk in the office for all of these plushes to fit.

“What are you thinking about? Or are you just admiring your growing collection?” Xavier spoke from beside me. I turned to look at him for a few moments. The Xavier during missions was so different yet the same as the Xavier outside of work. You had come to know him as a close friend, and even shared some flirtatious moments. Most of the time, you pushed those moments aside and decided to see him only as a coworker. But flirtatious fantasies sometimes danced through your mind.

You envisioned his desk at the office. Completely barren; no pictures, no decorations. A piece of furniture completely devoid of any color or personality. You grabbed one of your plushes. This one was a particularly round tomato plush. “Here,” you started, “this won’t fit on my desk, so you can have it.”

Xavier took the plush in his hand and examined it for a moment, “What am I supposed to do with it?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I dunno, it’s up to you.”

For some unknown reason, after the day at the arcade you spent the entire next day thinking about Xavier. During random moments of the day, memories between the two of you kept flashing back into your mind. You would be folding laundry and suddenly think back to his arms brushing against yours like they did during a mission in the forest. You both had heard and felt fluctuations and were on guard. He held your wrist in a swift movement to keep you close. You snapped out of it and finished folding your clothes.

Another memory flashed while you were cleaning dishes. It was a particularly risky mission, and Xavier’s Evol was dwindling. His life was at risk, but he was still willing to put himself in the face of danger in order to keep you safe. When you tried to resonate with him, at first he hesitated. He wouldn’t dare you spend any of your energy or power on him. But in the end, your decision to resonate saved his life. You both thought you’d end up losing the other that day, and the silent air of the aftermath sat heavy. You held each other close, your heavy breathing mixing together.

After your days off were over, and you thought you had finally gotten over yourself, you walked into the office prepared for whatever mission Jenna was going to send you on. But then, you saw Xavier across the room. He was standing talking to another hunter, and you just about lost your mind. He was standing with his arms crossed, clad in his hunter uniform, his head cocked slightly as he listened to whatever his coworker was jabbering about. God, he looked amazing, you thought. Why were you thinking of him in this way all of the sudden?

You had gone over every small interaction, every side conversation, every slight touch that the two of you had ever shared. Was there really something between the two of you, or had you actually gone mad this time. You walked over to your desk, placing one of your newest plushes on the shelf to complete your set.

Your eyes glanced over at Xavier’s desk, not expecting anything to have changed. You did a double take when you noticed something new. A small tomato plush sat next to his computer. That wasn’t the only thing either. A square photo was stuck to the hang wall that every worker had.

Trying to be inconspicuous, you squinted at the photo. It was one the two of you had taken before one of your most recent missions. You were both dressed in your uniforms, and he had his arm around your shoulder as you held bunny ears behind his head. He was smiling, and you were sticking your tongue out. It was the only photo the two of you had ever taken together.

Your head was reeling. This couldn’t be real. You were convinced you were trapped in some Protocore induced dream. “Do you like the new decorations?” Your body jolted as Xavier spoke next to you. You turned to see a smug smile on his face, his arms still crossed.

You were too shocked to speak, but finally decided to say something as Xavier waited for an answer. “Yeah, yeah…it’s nice.” Your voice sounded more exasperated than you’d like. Xavier seemed to read you like a book. Did he know the realizations that you were having?

“Are you alright?” He asked with a slight smile. He didn’t actually seem too concerned.

“Yeah- no, yeah, I’m fine.” You stumbled over your words, refusing to make eye contact with him. You saw a slight twitch in his bicep as he adjusted his stance by his desk. Your entire face went hot. “I think Jenna wanted me to look at something in the Archive room, I’ll um…be right back.” You hurried through your excuse to leave the main office.

Your breath had quickened, but you found solace in the empty archive room. Only tech workers were really needed back here to retrieve old files on specific Protocores or important history of Linkon. Thankfully the room was empty, the only sound being your heavy breathing. You sat yourself on one of the empty counters, the space usually used for examining documents. You put your head in your hands, get it together.

You heard the handle of the door slide open, and your heart sank. In walked Xavier, still appearing smug and moving like he rehearsed all of this. “Are you following me now?” You huffed, just needing some time alone to sort through your thoughts.

“Are you done lying to me?” He retorted, moving closer to you, now standing only a few feet away.

“What are you talking about?” You scoffed in a hushed laugh.

“You’re clearly not fine. What’s going on?” He still held that dumb smile on his face, and your brows furrowed.

“Are you actually concerned for me? Because you’re smiling. Do you know you’re smiling right now?” You asked in a rushed tone; you’ve never seen him behave this way.

He let out a deep sigh, his eyes rolling in exasperation. "Do I have to explain everything to you?" He took a step closer, his body now towering over you as you sat perched on the counter. He leaned down, his hands planted firmly on either side of your legs. Your faces were mere inches apart, and the intensity of his gaze sent shivers down your spine. “Do I have to explain why your face flushes when I get close like this?”

Gently, he reaches out and places his warm hand on your knee, caressing it with gentle strokes. With a slow and deliberate movement, he begins to trace a path up your thigh, his fingertips leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. Gradually, his touch becomes more confident and sure, sending waves of desire rippling through your body. “Do I have to explain how your breath quickens when I do this?”

He leans in, his breath warm on your neck as he speaks in a soft whisper only meant for you. You can feel the heat radiating from his lips, and the gentle brush of his words sends shivers down your spine. His breath carries the scent of mint and musk, enveloping you in a cloud of desire. The closeness between you is palpable, and every nerve in your body is electrified by his presence. “Or can you put the pieces together yourself?”

“Xavier…” Is all you can think to say. Your breathing was quickening, and your face was flushed.

He sighed, his lips just barely grazing the start of your jaw, “I’ve waited and waited for you to finally feel what I’ve felt for so long.” You take your hands and slightly push his chest away.

You analyze his face and his brows furrow ever so slightly. “You mean- you’ve felt this way about me all this time and never told me?” You brought one of your hands up to the side of his face, your thumb lightly tracing around his cheek.

“Of course, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I knew you didn’t feel the same way- if you would never feel this way…” He starts, and before he can continue, you speak up.

“But now you know…”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, “Exactly.” He brings a hand up to your jaw and slowly moves it to the back of your neck. “Can I kiss you now?” Your eyes felt dazed as you gazed down at his lips. He brushed a thumb over the bottom of your lip, waiting. “Please, your eyes are saying yes but I need to hear it from your mouth.”

You nodded, snapping out of the haze you were in. “Yes, yes, please.” As soon as the last word was uttered Xavier brought his lips onto yours. He started slow, his soft lips moving in rhythm with yours. He was still leaning on his hands, but he moved them to wrap around your lower back. You never thought he would feel this good on your lips. You let out a slight whimper, and that sent Xavier spiraling. Like a man starved, he quickened his pace and kissed you as if he’d never get the chance again.

“Wait- we can’t do this here.” You took a moment in between kisses to center yourself and remember you were at work.

“Ugh, I don’t care,” Xavier breathed out and went back to kissing you again. Once his lips found yours for the second time you didn’t care anymore either. You wanted this feeling, this burning desire for him to last forever.

You smiled into the next kiss, “Okay,” You moved your hands into his hair, your fingers tugging on the strands slightly. He moaned lightly into your kiss, causing your back to arch.

You almost missed the door handle opening again, and you immediately pushed Xavier off of you. He stumbled back, partially in shock until he realized why. Andrew walked in, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment from walking in on the two of you. “Um- Jenna is looking for you. The mission assignments are about to be handed out.” He cleared his throat and walked out of the room.

Your own face was flush pink, and once Andrew left the room you put your head in your hands. “Oh my god.”

“Okay, you were right. Maybe we shouldn’t have done that here.” Xavier laughed to himself. You had no choice but to laugh, really.

You hopped off of the counter, your legs feeling weak. You couldn’t even think about going on a mission right now, nonetheless with Xavier. “Well,” You straightened out your uniform, “I guess we should head back.”

“Yeah,” Xavier chuckled to himself, “until next time.”

Your face flushed at his words, because you knew there would be a next time.

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dollyhyuckii · 2 days ago

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၇୧ ENHYPEN AS YOUR BOYFRIEND ˖ ་.

CONTENT — wc • 1.4k fem!reader. lowercased intended. established relationship, boyfriend enhypen 𐔌͡ㅤׅㅤㅤ✿ written with love by autum!

秋のメモ… ︵︵ ིྀ first enhypen story on this blog!!, likes and reblogs are always appreciated!, hope you enjoy!!

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི 、HEESEUNG

˖ ་. AFFECTION : heeseung would be a playful blend of playful and romantic, he’d would often tease you with his little remarks, laughing when you get flustered, but he’d also know when to shift into his serious, caring side. when you’re upset, he’d hold you close and he would always try to make you feel better “im here for you baby, always. don’t forget that”

˖ ་. ACTS OF LOVE : he’s the type to know the smallest details about you, your favorite snacks, the way you like your coffee, or the littlest things that make you happy. everyday you always find a handwritten note tucked in your bag that always reads “good luck today!, you’re amazing baby, I love you!”

˖ ་. MUSIC BONDING : late at night, he’d pull out his guitar and start playing softly. “wanna hear something ive been working on pretty?” he’d ask, singing lyrics that seemed to be written just for you. those private concerts would make you feel like the most special person in the world.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི 、JAY

˖ ་. PROTECTIVE : jay would always make sure you’re safe, whenever it’s walking you home or ensuring you’re eating well. “text me when you get there okay princess?, i just want to make sure you’re alright” he’d say, his voice filled with genuine concern

˖ ་. FOOD ENTHUSIAST : jay would thrive in the kitchen, cooking you your favorite meals and teaching you some of his family’s recipes. “no, no like this princess” he’d say, guiding your hands as you tried to cut the vegetables. even when the dish doesn’t turn out as perfectly as you wanted he’d laugh and say, “baby.. it’s the effort that counts yeah?”

˖ ་. THOUGHTFUL : you always find small or even big thoughts gifts waiting for you, like roses on your doorstep, taking you out to dinner, or even having a playlist full of songs that reminded him of you. he would also have a beautiful journal with a heartfelt note inside. “i saw this princess and i thought of you” he explained, smiling warmly.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི 、JAKE

˖ ་. GOLDEN RETRIEVER ENERGY : jake would bring you so much positivity and support into your life. “pretty, you know you’re incredible, right?” he’d say, his eyes sparkling with pride, whenever you accomplish something, or every time you talked. jake was so in love with you, and would do anything for you.

˖ ་. CLINGY : jake always wanted to be near you at all times and was always ready for whenever you two cuddled after a long day. “c’mere pretty girl, you look like you need a hug” he’d say, pulling you into his arms and holding you tightly. whenever it’s holding hands while walking or resting his head on your shoulder, he would constantly seek that physical connection

˖ ་. BEING TOGETHER : jake wants to be with you all the time, which makes him plan adventures or little dates just to be with you, like midnight drives to watch the stars or little picnic at the park when it’s nice outside. “you know pretty, life is much more fun when we’re just together?” he’d say , snapping a photo of you to capture the memory’s

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི 、SUNGHOON

˖ ་. COOL BUT SOFT : at first, sunghoon might seem reserved and quiet but that’s really not him, as he opens up, you’d see his sweet and thoughtful side of him. “i-i .. wasn’t staring m i was just.. you look nice today baby..” he’d say as he looked away, as he got caught staring at you.

˖ ་. SUBTLE AFFECTION : sunghoon would sometimes quietly show his love in actions rather than words. lending his jacket without being asked knowing that your cold, or fixing something you mentioned in passing would be his way saying “i care about you” sunghoon is always listening, even if you don’t realize.

˖ ་. ICE SKATING DATES : a trip to the ice skating rink will always be a regular date for you two. he’d patiently teach you blow to skate , even if your paranoid ever 2 minutes about falling, or him not holding you tightly. “baby.., don’t worry i got you okay, im not going to let go” he’d say, smiling as you nervously wobbled on the ice.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི 、SUNOO

˖ ་. SUNSHINE IN HUMAN FORM : sunoo would always know how to cheer you up and make you feel better. “don’t be sad.., your to beautiful for that, let me make you feel better beautiful.” flashing his pretty smile at you and pulling you into a big hug, just trying to make you feel better.

˖ ་. AESTHETIC: he’d take you out to the most beautiful cafes and parks that he would find, always ensuring every date or outing you two go on it felt magical and you had the most wonderful time. “this place is so pretty.., just like you beautiful” he’d say, as you smack his arm playfully calling him cheesy for his words.

˖ ་. GREAT LISTENER: sunoo would be the person that you could always go and talk to, you go to him when you need advice, your sad, you need someone to talk to, or when you just want to be near him. “go on beautiful, im listening.” he’d say holding your hand and offering advice that made you feel comfortable and understood

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི 、JUNGWON

˖ ་. NATURAL LEADER : jungwon would naturally take care of you, always making sure you’re healthy and safe, you always come first before anything and everything. “have you eaten something today baby? no?, let me order something for you” he’d say, his concern evident in his tone.

˖ ་. PLAYFUL : jungwon would always love to tease you in a lighthearted way, always aiming to make you laugh, and of course you always did. “oh?, you think your funnier then me baby?, that’s cute.. i guess we’re going to have to see who’s more funny yeah?” he’d say with a cheeky grin.

˖ ་. DATES : he’d always enjoy spending quiet nights with you. it could be such as building blankets forts together or cooking meals together, whatever it was it would build your bond closer. “did i ever tell you, these are my favorite dates” he admitted, holding your hand as you two continue to watch the movie together.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི 、NIKI

˖ ་. PLAYFUL AND FUN : you always had fun around niki, he would always bring out his endless energy and laughter to your relationship. “you’re so bad at this game, it’s almost impressive baby” he tease, but you and him both know he’d always let you win in the end, just to see you smile.

˖ ་. GAMING BUDDY : playing video games together would always be a regular occurrence. “you wanna team up or battle baby?, either way you’re going down” he’d joke with you, loving ever moment of your competitive side.

˖ ་. SOFT SIDE : despite his playful side and always teasing you, he would also have a tender side that he would let out when he’s see something is wrong. “hey baby.., are you okay?, you know you can talk to me about anything” he’d say softly, his usual energy shifting into genuine care whenever you needed it.

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marvelousels · 2 days ago

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oh fuck you! | 2

authors note — (if u wanna read pt 1 here) meh no one asked for a continuation but its my most liked post so im doing a lil part 2!! also i find it so difficult trying not to use y/n but i NEED to somehow use something to name the reader like...do u guys get me??

pairings: caitlyn x fem!reader

cry baby - the neighbourhood playing!

Caitlyn stood there, frozen, as if the rain had locked her in place. She couldn’t chase after you—not yet. Her feet refused to move, weighed down by guilt and the crushing weight of what she’d just let happen. Her hand lingered in the air where you had been, now clutching at nothing but cold, empty space.

The rain was relentless, soaking through her clothes and dripping from her lashes, but she barely felt it. The only thing she could feel was the absence of you. And, gods, it hurt more than any wound she’d ever endured.

“Fuck,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of it all.

She wanted to go after you, to make you stay, but what could she even say now? Every word she’d tried had been a nail in the coffin. Every step closer to you had been a step closer to losing you for good. And the worst part? You were right.

You’d been there for her through everything. Every scraped knee, every sleepless night, every time she doubted herself or the weight of the Kiramman name. You were her anchor, her constant in a world that often felt like it was spinning out of control.

But Vi… Vi was a storm, unpredictable and wild. She was everything Caitlyn had never been allowed to be, and that scared her as much as it thrilled her. She was drawn to Vi like a moth to a flame, even though she knew it might burn her—and now, worse, you.

She finally managed to take a step forward, the puddle beneath her feet rippling as if mirroring the chaos inside her.

“Y/N!” she called out, her voice raw and desperate. “Please—don’t go!”

You didn’t stop, your figure disappearing into the misty haze of rain. Caitlyn felt her chest tighten, panic clawing at her throat. Was this it? Was this how it ended?

“Dammit,” she muttered, running a hand through her drenched hair. She didn’t care about the mud splashing onto her polished boots as she sprinted after you, her heart pounding louder than the rain.

When she finally caught up to you, she grabbed your arm—not harshly, but firmly enough to make you stop. You turned to her, tears streaming down your face, blending with the rain, and it shattered her all over again.

“Just listen,” she pleaded, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry, alright? I’m so sorry for making you feel like you’re not enough—because you are. You always have been.”

You pulled your arm away again, this time with less anger and more exhaustion. “Then why, Cait? Why do you keep doing this? Why do I feel like I’m always the second choice?”

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re not second choice. You’re everything. I just… I don’t know how to make sense of all of this, and I hate myself for it.”

Her hands trembled at her sides as she looked into your eyes, her own brimming with tears. “But losing you? That’s the one thing I know I can’t survive. Please, Y/N, don’t let me screw this up. Don’t let me lose you.”

You hesitated, your lips parting as if to speak, but the words caught in your throat. For a moment, all that filled the space between you was the sound of the rain.

Then, quietly, you asked, “What do you want, Caitlyn? Right here, right now, what do you want?”

Caitlyn’s heart stuttered. She stepped even closer, her voice barely audible but unmistakably certain.

“You,” she said, her voice cracking. “I want you.”

The rain drummed steadily around you both, a symphony of chaos that somehow made the world feel still. Your eyes locked with hers, searching for any hesitation, any lingering doubt. But for once, Caitlyn’s gaze held only certainty—no broken compass, no wavering. Just you.

Her hand moved slowly, trembling as it reached up to cup your cheek. You didn’t pull away this time. Her touch was tentative, almost afraid you’d shatter beneath her fingers, but when you didn’t, her thumb gently brushed against your damp skin.

“Y/N…” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rain. It was laced with so much—apology, longing, love.

And then, she closed the distance.

Her lips found yours softly at first, almost hesitant, as if asking for permission. But when you didn’t resist—when you leaned into her instead—the hesitation melted away. The kiss deepened, urgent and raw, as though it could somehow undo all the hurt, all the unspoken words that had lingered between you for so long.

The world around you faded—the rain, the cold, the ache in your chest—all of it dissolved into the warmth of her lips, the way she poured every ounce of herself into the kiss. Her other hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, as if she were afraid you might slip away again.

You finally broke apart, just enough to catch your breath, her forehead resting against yours. Both of you were panting, rainwater and tears mingling on your faces.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, her voice hoarse but sincere. “For everything.”

You shook your head, your hands clutching at the lapels of her soaked jacket as if anchoring yourself. “Just… don’t make me regret this,” you murmured, your voice breaking slightly.

“I won’t,” Caitlyn promised, her voice firm now. “I swear, Y/N. No more doubts, no more running. Just you.”

And then, with a small, tentative smile breaking through the tears, you pulled her into another kiss, this one slower, softer, as if savoring the moment. For now, the storm didn’t matter.

All that mattered was this—her, you, and the fragile, beautiful hope blooming between you.

#arcane #caitlyn kiramman #fanfiction #caitlyn defender #caitlyn x reader #oneshot #angst #light angst #caitlyn arcane #fem reader #caitlyn kiramman fluff #fluff #kisses #girls kissing girls #reunited

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kawoala · 2 days ago

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DRIVEN BY ADRENALINE suna rintarou. chapter 008 ; sick.

< previous ; masterlist ; next >

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 (446)

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 (again its short im sorry lol, more angst HAH, mixed smau/written, apologies, once again runa x terushima, idk why i like runa + terushima its just the vibe here i guess)

The knock at your door comes at approximately eleven o’clock at night. Runa is gone, probably somewhere with Terushima. They’ve been hanging out a lot more. When you’d asked about it the other day, she had turned red and giggled like a little girl. For a brief moment, it was cute. After that moment was over, it just made you think about how you no longer had that with Rin.

You’re sitting at the shared desk, one leg pulled up to your chest as you try to focus on your homework. Usually, you would have headphones in, but tonight you’re punishing yourself by sitting in the silence. You’re not sure why.

When the knock comes, it startles you. The pencil you’re holding nearly flies out of your hand— you’d been in The Zone. You spin around on the office chair and stare at the oak for a long time.

Another pair of knocks. “Y/n, I know you’re in there.”

You’re not sure of how you’re supposed to react to his voice. There’s a part of you that wants to get up, open the door, and kiss him again. The other part of you knows that the aforementioned part is insane.

“Can we just talk? I know you were there last night. I saw you.”

You almost scoff at him. He saw you? Did he also see the way he was flirting with that girl right in front of you? You still don’t make a move to get up. You’re not going to open the door— even if it kills you. You spin your chair back around and try to focus on your homework again.

“Y/n, I’m sorry.” Your hand stops writing. “Runa said she talked to you. She said that you understood. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for fucking ignoring you, I’m sorry for kissing you back, I’m sorry for ever letting you get in that fucking car with me.” There’s a pause and then a thudding sound on the door. “Open the door, Y/n.”

You swallow hard. This is proving to be a lot harder than you thought it would be. Once again, you pick up your pencil and continue writing notes. For a long, long time, it’s quiet again. You think he’s gone until there’s a sound outside. You almost turn around, but resist.

“I’ll… I’ll call you, okay? I’m gonna call until you answer me. I’ll probably show up here again, too. I’m sorry.”

And, once again, you’re left in the silence. A punishment to yourself. You’re still not sure why. There’s that feeling again, though, festering in your stomach, spreading to each of your limbs. It makes you sick.

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@sahrii , @cherrysurf , @heartmaddie , @jpegarchives , @vertejay

@tiramizuloz , @gumims , @mybelovedvi , @chaotic-neutral-ig , @usbrous

@iheartamora , @iluv-ace , @xavlyzn , @reocidal , @mysticstrawberryballoon

@h0n3y-l3m0n05 , @aethersluvrr , @smiithys , @rriwyu , @twiishaa

@kissunday , @ilovejeansosomuch , @anqelkoz , @yiooobb37 , @renardiererin

@pookalicious-hq , @massacremars

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darlingdreadwrites · 1 day ago

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Scary? My God, You're Divine

pairing: Ticci Toby x GN!Reader

summary: Toby's been feeling insecure all day, and you snap him out of it.

contains: toby being insecure, fluff

word count: 1.1k

masterlist

a.n: this is the first thing ive gotten myself to write in weeks oml.... and yes im still alive LOL just been depressed and coping horrendously

The forest is quiet, save for the occasional chirp of birds in the distance and your conversation. The evening air is cool, carrying the scent of earth and pine. The fading sunlight paints the horizon in hues of amber and rose. You sit cross-legged on the slightly damp ground, absently brushing aside a twig as you chatted away. Your voice carries an easy, lighthearted cadence as you recount a ridiculous moment from earlier today. The punchline slips from your lips with a chuckle, and you glance at Toby. Not even the faintest sign of amusement. Just what was going through that head of his today?

Toby sits a few feet away, legs tented with his arms draped loosely over his knees. His hoodie is pulled up, the shadows of the fabric obscuring a full view of his face. His head rests against his left shoulder – angling just enough to keep you out of his peripheral vision.

He’s not even listening, you sigh to yourself.

You had noticed that he was uncharacteristically quiet for hours. And yet – whenever you would ask if he was okay – he would brush you off with joke. It seems that now he doesn’t even have the energy to fake not being upset. Unbeknownst to you, Masky’s voice is still echoing in his head – cruel and biting.

“I don’t know what they see in you, ugly as you are.”

The words had clung to him like burrs – twisting into his thoughts sharply. He hates how easily it got under his skin. He never gave a fuck about his appearance before, why was he so worried about what you’d think of him now?

Toby barely registers your voice anymore – or the fact that you had even stopped talking. It was a soft and familiar hum that would have soothed him on any other day. But right now, he feels undeserving of even that—your presence, your attention. What could you possibly see in him?

He shifts, a quiet tic jerking his arm upward before he forcefully presses it back down. The clicking of his tongue follows, barely audible because of his painful restraint. He lets out a sharp exhale, his jaw tight under the hood’s shadow.

He’s so distant. The way his head is hung – as if the weight of his thoughts is too much to bear – makes your chest ache. Fuck this, I can’t take it anymore.

Scooting closer, you lower your voice to a concerned tone. “Toby… are you okay?”

He stiffens, his fingers tightening around the sleeves of his hoodie.

“I’m f-fine,” he mutters, but the crack in his voice betrays him. He keeps his gaze fixed on the ground; the corners of his mouth tight.

You sigh, leaning in. “No, you’re not. Talk to me. Please.”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. His silence stretches long enough to almost make you ask again. He lets out a sharp exhale, his fingers fidgeting with a loose thread.

“Wuh-why do you ev-even… care?” he mumbles.

“What?” You blink. “Why wouldn’t I care?”

He looks up – just for a moment – before averting his eyes again. His jaw works like he is chewing over words he doesn’t want to say, but something inside him cracks.

“Look at me-me.” His words are bitter. His hands gesture to the scars lining his face, at the deep gash cutting into his left cheek that exposes his molars. You swear you catch him flinch when you follow the movement. “I cuh-can’t even—how can, can you st-stand to look… at me?”

His voice wavers when he forced out the last words as if it pained him to even voice his thoughts. His hands drop to his lap, clenching into tight fists. His head is bowed like he expects you to agree and run away screaming.

You reach out instead, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

“Toby,” you say softly, waiting for him to look at you. When he doesn’t, you squeeze. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, his eyes meet yours. A storm of doubt and shame swirls in them.

“I adore you,” you begin, your voice steady. “Every single part of you. Your scars, your tics, even the things you think make you unlovable—they don’t. They’re part of you. And I think you’re beautiful.”

Toby simply stares at you, his breath catching audibly. His throat works as if he is trying to swallow the lump rising there.

“You… you d-don’t mean that,” he whispers.

“I do,” you insist, your hand sliding from his shoulder to gently cup his cheek. Your thumb brushes over the rough texture of his scarred skin.

His lips part, but no words come out. He just stares up at you – eyes wide with a blend of disbelief and yearning. He almost doesn’t know how to process the sweet words you’ve offered to him. You hold his gaze, and let your affection speak louder than any of the words you’ve spoken.

Toby is quick, pulling you into his lap in one fluid motion despite the way his hands tremble. His arms wrap tightly around you, and you’re surrounded by his warmth.

His face buries itself into the crook of your neck, his warm breath uneven against your skin. He clings to you to keep himself grounded. His shoulders shake, and you feel the slight tremor of his tics. There’s a small jerk in his arm, a subtle twitch in his fingers. But Toby refuses to let go.

“Y-you don’t—” His words catch in his throat. He presses his lips to your neck instead. The kiss is soft but almost desperate.

“I-I need y-you,” he murmurs against your skin. His breath hitches as he moves up to your jawline – leaving a trail of featherlight kisses. “Don’t… don’t leave m-me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You run your fingers through his messy hair. Your other hand traces gentle patterns on his back. You let him hold you as tightly as he needs – offering him every ounce of reassurance he craves.

It feels like he can’t decide where he wants to kiss more – your neck or your face. Each one lingers, a quiet hum escaping his throat. He tilts his head to brush his lips on the corner of your mouth before turning his attention to gently suck on your neck briefly.

His hands roam – not with any intention beyond connection. One squeezes your hip, while the other slides along your arm and back. He needs the physical reminder that you are here – with him, loving him. And he loves you. Oh, he fucking loves you.

The hand on your back pulls you closer into his lap. His body twitches again – accidentally causing him to squeeze you hard enough to make you yelp. He lets out a frustrated – and apologetic – huff, but you hold him tighter.

“’S okay,” you whisper, your lips planting a kiss on his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

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noirsdoll · 2 days ago

Text

inspired by this anon ask!!

-> pretty please? part two

all aboard! | the dinner party

pairing: curly x wife!reader

words: 3.0k

tags: dubcon, referenced rape, baby trapping, semi-public sexual stuff, mentions of jimmy’s abuse towards anya, anya gets an abortion, reader is the worst person alive, there’s an actual smut scene this time, no crash au

notes: wasn’t planning on writing a second part but the brainrot got sooo bad uh reader gets even worse imo… writing the anya part caused me physical pain IM SORRY also i need to walk all over curly he’s so…

read it on ao3

Mrs. Grant Curly.

It sounds just as good as it feels. When Pony Express became fully automated, you lost your job just like everybody else. You were lucky that, when the dust settled, you’d made your mark on Curly.

Walking down the cargo ramp, displaying your fresh baby bump, courtesy of him, you've never felt more secure. Sure, Curly proposed to you more out of necessity than want and you got married at the courthouse, but you don’t care. That white picket fence dream you’d been chasing is now a reality.

Of course, you’re the one that cooks and cleans around the house— you didn’t expect anything less, you were sure that Curly had a housewife fantasy rolling around somewhere in that empty head of his. It’s nice, it keeps your hands busy and your mind free, because while he might be the one ordering you around, you’ve never felt more in control in your entire life.

You’re having the former crew over for dinner at your shared house, tonight. Fortunately, Jimmy got locked up for what he did to Anya quickly after the Tulpar’s touchdown, so you won't be seeing him for half a year, at least. The attendees are you, Anya, Daisuke, Swansea, and your lovely husband, Curly.

You cling to Curly’s arm, beckoning everyone in. Your guests crowd around you, admiring the ring Curly wrapped around your finger. A glittering diamond, so heavy it weighs down your hand. Curly smiles awkwardly.

“Wow, it’s gorgeous!” Anya says, with a clear hint of jealousy. You got a ring out of that trip and she gets an abortion.

“Damn, the Captain must be loaded!” Daisuke exclaims, tugging your hand closer for a better inspection.

Swansea nods. “It’s a good investment. You seem like a hard worker.”

“The hardest,” you say with a grin and a coy glance at Curly. “Dinner’s on the table. Pot roast.”

Everyone tucks in, one of the few non-synthetic meals they’ve had since their return to Earth, except for Daisuke, of course. You wonder how much his mom earns and how much it differs from Curly. For all you know, he could be a basement dweller for the rest of his life with no worries.

Curly sits beside you, eating quietly. With your free hand, you trail it up his thigh. You’ve touched him so many times before, but he still freezes up a little. Fortunately, you’ve done it enough that he knows better than to say anything, continuing to eat, albeit stiffer.

Your hand passes over his cock, right over the fabric of his nice suit. He looks so good in dinner formal— that tailored suit hugs his waist and somehow contains his tits. You’re glad you married him.

You hold a conversation with Swansea– something about gas prices and advice about your future kid— all with your hand gently running along the line of Curly’s dick. You honestly don’t care if they see, your cooking is good enough of a distraction.

You turn to look at the side opposite Curly and see Daisuke staring. Not at you, but at your hand— the one on Curly’s cock.

The both of you lock eyes and he looks away, his tan skin flushed rouge. You watch him for a moment, intrigued, slowly pulling away.

Nothing else happens for the rest of dinner, everyone migrates to the living room afterwards. Swansea’s showing Curly something in the garage and Anya’s in the washroom, so that just leaves you and Daisuke.

You lean back on the couch beside Daisuke. “So… what’re you doing now that the Tulpar’s done for?”

He rubs the back of his neck, wearing a suit— an expensive, designer one. “I dunno, Swansea’s having me join his freelancing business— and I think he’s great and all but like, I’m nowhere on his level.”

“I think you’re pretty capable, Daisuke,” you smile. “If not, I’m sure my husband can network you somewhere.”

Daisuke glances down at your pregnant stomach and back up. “So, you and the captain, you’re really like, married and all that?”

“Yeah, why?”

“No, nothing, it’s just— it seems kinda out of nowhere.” He shrugs, looking away. “You really spooked us when you announced it on the ship.”

“We’d been together for a while, it’s only natural that something would happen,” you laugh. You expected it to— you’d have poked holes in his condoms if he had them.

Daisuke swallows. “How long have you been together?”

You think for a moment. “Since maybe about… halfway through the trip? We just couldn’t keep our hands off of each other, really.”

“Oh, wow, that long?” He looks at you with a furrowed brow, contemplating.

“Yeah… is something wrong?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I just feel stupid for not noticing.

“You’re not stupid, Daisuke. I said you were capable, remember?” You grin. “He just likes to keep things private, you know?”

“Private? But you two were…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Is he talking about what he saw at the dinner table?

Daisuke glances past you and you hear footsteps, it must be Curly and Swansea returning from the garage.

You decide to play a game.

“... so then I figured I’d return to my roots. Go back to being a car mechanic,” Swansea says, halfway buried in a cardboard box.

“Right…” Curly holds the box steady for him, watching Swansea root through his spare tools like a raccoon.

Swansea springs up with a new wrench in hand— one that looks exactly like all the others he’s found laying around in Curly’s garage. “The missus wants me back to work already. Can you believe her?”

“It’ll be good for your joints,” Curly says, setting the box down.

Swansea tosses the newfound wrench into the pile of all the other hammers and pliers and wires. It thunks against the dull metal. Curly pats the dust off his suit, Swansea doesn’t seem to be worried about the condition of his own.

“Nah, she just wants to nag. She’s good at nagging.” Swansea laughs, patting Curly on the back and knocking the wind out of his lungs. “Get used to that, huh? You keep telling yourself it’ll end eventually and it never does.”

Curly takes a moment to regain his breath. “Thank you, but she doesn’t nag.” You do something far worse than nag.

“Yeah? Well, it’ll be something or another. It always is with women.” He pops his back, groaning. Swansea gestures to his pile of knick-knacks with his head. “I’ll have these all back to you by the end of the month.”

Curly nods. “Thanks, Swansea.” He’s never seeing those tools again.

After hauling it all to Swansea’s rusty pickup, they head to the living room. That’s where Curly sees you and Daisuke. He hears you too, and he wishes he couldn’t.

“Oh, you’re talking about me feeling him up during dinner? Yeah, Curly’s into being humiliated. He always has me do stuff like that when we’re in public.” You shrug. “I think it’s nasty, but you know, gotta keep the husband happy.”

Curly stops dead in his tracks, unsure of what to do or say. It’s like a car crash, all he can do is watch, powerless to stop the careening vehicle.

“So… you do stuff like that all the time?” Daisuke’s voice is shaky, breathless.

“Yeah, most couples roleplay.” You look so at ease. Curly feels sick. “Have you ever tried anything like that, Daisuke?”

“What?! I, uh, no, I haven’t.”

“That’s a shame. I’m sure if I talked to him, you and I could work something out—”

“Honey?” By some force of God, he’s compelled to speak, walking forward to the both of you.

You turn to him, your eyes lighting up. Curly would be flattered if he didn’t know your true intentions. Time with you has told him one thing— you’re constantly scheming. This is your newest one. But why drag Daisuke into this? Just to spite him?

Maybe you’re switching targets. That could be a good thing, but Curly can’t bring himself to feel that way– especially when it’d just be another person getting hurt in his stead.

He was never hurt. You’re a pretty girl, of course he’s wanted it, he was just confused. That’s why he never pushed you off, that’s what makes it all okay.

“Ah, there’s the man of the hour,” you smile, “we were just talking about you, nothing important.”

Curly glances from you to Daisuke, whose eyes are so wide they swallow up his whole face. “Yeah, had a feeling you were. Why don’t you go check on Anya? Swansea and I have some business stuff to talk to Daisuke about and I doubt you want to be around for that.”

“Of course,” you beam, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him. You leave with a flurry of your dress around the corner.

At least Curly can say you aren’t bad to look at.

“Fuck, fuck, where did I put it?”

Anya rifles through her tiny purse, sorting through makeup and pills and her phone, searching for the one thing she really needs right now. She feels frantic, lamenting not wearing a dress with pockets. Eventually she finds it, pulling out a wrinkled period liner that was shoved to the bottom of her bag.

Getting her period is a reminder of Jimmy, a reminder of the fact that she’s not pregnant anymore, that she’s safe from him now. Anya never knew her period could be so comforting.

Just as she grabs a hold of the pad, she hears a knock on the bathroom door. “Who is it?” Anya shoves the pad back into her void of a bag, trying to disguise the crinkles with her voice.

“Can I come in?” It’s you. One of the few friends she has.

“Yes, of course.”

You enter, baby bump first, and Anya has to look away, wringing her hands. She doesn’t mean for the gesture to appear so rude, but she can’t help it.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, moving your head till it meets her gaze.

Anya nods on instinct. “Yes, I’m fine. Just… parties make me exhausted sometimes.”

“I get it, totally.” You sit on the edge of the tub, with Anya leaning against the counter. Everything in this bathroom is so blindingly white— it reminds Anya of the room where she got her abortion— operation.

“Um, congratulations on you and Curly’s marriage, if I didn’t say it already.”

You smile, “Aww, thank you, Anya. Truly, I’ve never been happier.”

“That’s good,” she purses her lips, debating if she should ask the question. “On the Tulpar, you told me that Curly made you do things. Is everything okay with you and him?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Sometimes people make mistakes, confuse a situation for something it’s not, you know?”

“Ah, really?”

“Oh, all the time.” You say it like it’s obvious. Something winds in Anya’s stomach. “I figured, it was just all in my head, really. You just wanna feel special sometimes. I talked to Grant and apologized for saying a thing like that and now it’s all better.” You gently pet a hand over your stomach. “Plus I get this little guy as a reward for all my hard work.”

Anya swallows. “Right, yeah.” It feels like she’s being crushed from above. She can’t breathe, blurting out each word. “Do you have a pad, by any chance? I only have one and I don’t think it’ll be enough.”

Slowly, you shake your head. “Sorry, I don’t get those anymore. I’m pregnant, remember?” You chuckle. “Will you be okay without an extra?”

She nods. “Yes, I might have to leave early, though.”

“Alright, well, come get me when you want to leave so I can show you out.” You pat her shoulder, smile a warm smile, and leave the way you came.

Anya collapses in a heap once the door closes.

Like all good things, the party eventually comes to an end. You stand at the door with Curly’s hand on your waist, the perfect picture of a couple as you see your guests off.

Once the door shuts and the porch lights click off, Curly reaches for his tie’s knot, loosening it with a sigh. “Did you have fun?”

“So much fun.” You lock the door, heading down the hall to the bedroom. “How was your business talk?”

Curly trails after you, undoing his suit jacket. “It’s boring. It always is.”

You reach the bedroom, standing by the foot of it as you unzip your dress and step out of it. Curly looks like he wants to say something, so you stay silent. Poor thing, it’s like speaking his mind hurts.

He’s halfway down unbuttoning his dress shirt when he strings the words together. “Am I not enough for you?”

“What makes you say that?” You know exactly what he’s talking about. You just like seeing the way he questions himself when you question him.

You unclasp your bra, your tits drooping. You hate the way you look pregnant, you have to avoid seeing your reflection like a fucking vampire. It’s a means to an end, that’s the only thing that’s reassured you.

“That whole thing with Daisuke— you can’t just say stuff like that in front of other people.” He’s gaining a bit of a backbone, it surprises you. “I want this to work.”

“Then we both need to step up, right?” You move closer. “I cleaned the whole house and cooked dinner just for you to spend most of the time hiding in the garage.”

“We were working, it wasn’t like it was on purpose—,”

“No, it was on purpose. You’re being a bad husband, Grant.” You gesture to your belly, the final nail in the coffin. “You can’t act like this when I’m pregnant with your baby, okay? You have to be a father to your child.”

You stand there, fuming and for a moment you actually feel angry. Your performance is so convincing even you believe it.

“Hey, don’t be mad, please.” It’s the best argument he’s got, especially when he tips your grumbling face up to meet his baby blues. “I fucked up today and I’m sorry, okay? I’ll do better, promise.”

Fuck, he’s so perfect. He caves like clockwork, hearing him admit it’s his fault gets you soaked every time. You kiss him, soft and slow. “Could you help me take off my heels, then? My feet are killing me.”

You sit on the edge of the bed and Curly takes a knee, the same way he did in your crew quarters, promising to buy you a ring the second he landed. And he always keeps his promises.

He undoes your heels and you watch on with an easy grin as he peppers kisses along your ankles and the top of your feet. You expected him to do that, Curly’s so predictable. He keeps his eyes on yours, searching for your praise. He kneads your feet a little too, massaging out all the aches and pains.

His mouth trails higher and higher until it reaches its end destination— your shaven pussy. You can never get a good look with the baby bump in the way, so you make him shave it. It’s one of his favourite tasks– like a sensory toy for a toddler.

Curly’s tongue laves over your slit and he eats you out, thick eyelashes fluttering closed as he takes his time with you.

Your orgasm makes up for the fake anger you lobbied at him— it swallows you up and spits you back on the bed with a limp spine. You deserve it, honestly, all this acting really takes a toll on you.

Your favourite part is when he gets on the bed with you, big burly arms caging you in. It feels like the entire world’s been closed out and it’s just you and him. Nothing but his warm body pressed so tightly to yours. Two puzzle pieces that fit.

Curly fumbles a little in the dark, but eventually his fat cock is splitting you open, that same perfect cock that knocked you up all those months ago. It feels just as good as it did the first time and all those subsequent times after.

His eyelids fall to half mast as he looks at you, and that’s how you know you have him. So easily ensnared, what’s the point of an argument when you can just spread your legs and he comes willingly? You’ll have to try it next time, see if your pussy does a better job of speaking for you.

The mattress creaks with every slow movement. Unhurried and hard is the rhythm he always chooses, constantly searching your expression to make sure he isn’t hurting you. Not that you’d mind.

It would just remind you of that night in his quarters, when he’d snapped and he was no longer the Curly you’d grown obsessed with, when you were half sure he might kill you. Since then, you made sure never to push him that far again, to only play games you were certain you’d win.

And Curly filling you up after a long day is a sure bet.

He cums quicker than you’d like, but you’re too tired to berate him. He’s done enough today. Crowded up against his chest, you play with the hair there, winding the short strands around your fingers.

Too fucked out for malice, you both talk for a while. On baby names, on family, on being better. You only care about one of those. You’ve been set on the baby names ever since you scratched them onto the metal wall of your quarters back on the Tulpar— right above the heart with both yours and Curly’s names.

You just tell him you haven’t decided yet.

#🕸️—writing #mouthwashing fanfic #mouthwashing curly #mouthwashing x reader #curly x you #mouthwashing curly x reader #mouthwashing x y/n #curly x reader smut #curly smut

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bamgyuuuri · 2 days ago

Text

⤷ call it what you want ┈ cbg.

sypnosis. ah, choi beomgyu, your best friend. he's always had a habit of keeping you on your toes, but lately, his actions had you second-guessing everything. why does he treat you differently? the more you think about it, the harder it is to ignore—there’s something more behind his sweetness, and you're determined to find out what.

pairings and tags. bestfriend!choi beomgyu x reader (f/m) . unresolved romantic tension . unspoken feelings . playful banter . beomgyu is lowkey (highkey) bad at expressing emotions . oblivious idiots in love

word count. 2.4k

short note … hi !! first ever fic posted on tumblr, kinda nervous … nevertheless, i hope you like it ! do tell me what you think <3

oftentimes, you found yourself caught in the web of your own thoughts, spiraling deeper with each passing day about the enigma that was beomgyu. he was your best friend, your confidant, your partner in crime—but sometimes, he felt like a puzzle you couldn’t quite solve.

it wasn’t just the big things, like the way he always seemed to show up exactly when you needed him, even without you asking. it was the little things, too—the way he’d hold your bag without a word when you struggled with too many things in your hands. the way he would sit through hours of your favorite shows—ones he didn’t particularly like—without a single complaint. the way his gaze lingered on you just a second too long when he thought you weren’t looking.

you didn’t know what to make of it. beomgyu wasn’t exactly a people pleaser. with others, he had a sharp tongue and a knack for playful teasing that often bordered on exasperation. but with you? he softened, like an untouchable winter snow melting under the warmth of spring. he never said no to you, even when he should have. even when you knew you were being unreasonable.

and it wasn’t like he didn’t have boundaries. you’d seen him draw them with others—firm, unyielding lines that no one dared to cross. yet, with you, those lines blurred until they were practically nonexistent.

it didn’t make sense. friends had limits, didn’t they? there were unspoken rules, boundaries that even the closest of friendships respected. but beomgyu seemed to exist in a different realm when it came to you, a realm where rules didn’t apply, and you were left wondering why.

was it guilt? pity? some unspoken sense of obligation? the thought made your stomach churn, and yet you couldn’t shake the tiny flicker of something else—a hope you didn’t dare name.

today, that flicker burned brighter, fueled by the quiet ache in your chest as you (im)patiently waited for his arrival as you sat on the park bench. you had asked him hangout once again just a few hours prior, and like always, he agreed without a second thought.

you clenched your hands together, the words bubbling up inside you like a storm waiting to break. you needed answers.

lost in your thoughts, you barely registered the faint sound of footsteps crunching against the gravel path, growing louder until they stopped right in front of you. a shadow fell over your face, and a familiar voice jolted you out of your reverie.

“hey. you alive in there?” beomgyu’s face hovered close, upside-down in your line of vision as he bent over to peer at you.

you blinked up at him, startled. “you—what are you doing?”

“checking if you’ve been body-snatched,” he replied, his grin wide and mischievous. “you’ve been sitting there looking all existential. do i need to call someone?”

you sat up straighter, huffing in mock indignation. “it’s nothing. i was just thinking.”

“dangerous,” he teased, straightening up and plopping onto the bench beside you. he threw his arm dramatically over the backrest, tilting his head to look at you with an exaggeratedly concerned expression. “don’t hurt yourself, okay? your brain only has so much capacity.”

“funny,” you reply dryly, rolling your eyes.

but his presence, his warmth beside you, already started to untangle the knot of thoughts swirling in your chest. that was the thing about beomgyu—he always had a way of pulling you back to the surface, no matter how deep you were sinking.

“what were you thinking about, anyway?” he asked, nudging your shoulder with his. “was it me? wait—let me guess. it was me, wasn’t it?”

“wow,” you deadpanned, yet trying to hide your surprise on how he was so spot on. “how’d you figure it out?”

“i mean, come on. i'm a pretty captivating subject,” he said, flashing you a cheeky grin. “if i were you, i’d think about me too.”

you snorted, unable to stop the laugh that bubbled up in your chest. “you’re too full of yourself.”

“only when I’m around you,” he retorts without missing a beat, his tone playful but carrying a hint of something deeper.

the words hit you in a way you didn’t expect, and you found yourself staring at him, searching his face. he looked completely at ease, his eyes sparkling with amusement and the corners of his mouth still curled into a smile. but there was something in the way he looked at you—something that made your heart skip a beat.

“you’re so weird,” you muttered, looking away before he could notice the way your cheeks had started to heat up.

“says the person who was just having a staring contest with the sky,” he shot back, leaning closer until his shoulder bumped yours. “come on, tell me. what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

his tone was light, teasing, but there was an undercurrent of genuine curiosity, and you dare say concern, that made your chest tighten. you hesitated, the words you’d been mulling over all day sitting heavy on your tongue.

“it’s really nothing,” you respond, but the words came out too quickly, too forced.

beomgyu raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “liar.”

“i'm not lying!” you insisted, though your voice betrayed you by pitching higher.

“oh, you so are,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “your nose is doing that twitchy thing it always does when you’re trying to cover something up.”

“my nose does not twitch!”

“it totally does.”

“does not!”

“does too,” he said with a laugh, leaning back and stretching his legs out in front of him. “you’re a terrible liar, you know? it’s one of your most endearing qualities.” even when teasing you, he just couldn’t help but let some of his fondness slip out.

you crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at him. “if you’re trying to get me to confess to some made-up crime, it’s not going to work.”

“who said anything about crime?” he shot back, tilting his head with a mock-innocent expression. “i’m just saying, if you want to pour your heart out to me, i’m all ears. i mean, i’m basically your emotional support rock at this point, right?”

you laughed despite yourself, the sound easing the tension that had been building in your chest. “you’re impossible.”

“impossible to resist,” he said with a wink, earning another eye roll from you.

but the banter, as much as it made you smile, wasn’t enough to distract you from the weight of the question pressing against your ribs. beomgyu, with all his lightheartedness and teasing, made it so easy to forget, but you couldn’t keep brushing it aside.

your gaze softened as you looked at him, really looked at him. the way his grin reached his eyes, the way he never seemed to run out of things to say around you, the way his entire demeanor shifted when it was just the two of you—more animated, more comfortable, like he could let down his guard.

“beomgyu,” you said, quieter this time, your voice cutting through his playful chatter.

upon hearing his name, he turns to you with a curious expression. “yeah?”

“why do you…” you hesitated, the words catching in your throat.

“why do i what?” he prompted, his tone gentler now, though his eyes still held a spark of curiosity.

“why do you act so differently with me?”

the question lingered in the air, and for the first time, you saw the confidence in his expression waver. his grin slowly faded, replaced by something more cautious, almost vulnerable.

“different how?” he asked, though you could tell he already knew what you meant.

“you let me get away with everything,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “you’re so… patient with me, even when i know i’m being ridiculous. you don’t act like this with anyone else. why?”

beomgyu opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if the words he wanted to say were caught somewhere between his heart and his tongue. his fingers drummed nervously against his knee, his gaze flickering away from yours. “i don’t know,” he said finally, but the words sounded hollow even to him.

“yes, you do,” you said, leaning in slightly. “be honest with me, gyu.”

beomgyu didn’t look at you. instead, his eyes were on the ground, his fingers toying with the sleeve of his hoodie, as if the fabric was the most fascinating thing in the world at that moment. there was something different about him now, something that made your heart beat a little faster, but also a little heavier.

“right.” his voice wavered slightly, but he quickly masked it with a cough. “you know, i don’t really think it’s that complicated.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, sensing his hesitation despite his nonchalant tone. “not complicated?” you almost scoffed, trying to mask the vulnerability creeping into your chest. “well, it’s a little complicated for me. i’ve been thinking about this for days, gyu.”

he shifted uncomfortably, his fingers tightening into fists, his gaze still avoiding yours. there was a flicker in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly you couldn’t catch it. his lips pressed into a thin line. “i don’t know what you want me to say.”

his words were like a soft slap to your chest, and for a moment, you were silent, unsure if you should push further or retreat. but the question, the confusion inside you, was too loud to ignore now.

“i just want you to be honest with me,” you pressed, voice quieter this time. “why are you so... different with me? you’re not like this with anyone else. you just let me... let me do whatever I want.”

beomgyu’s shoulders stiffened at your words, and for a moment, it looked like he might say something, but he clamped his mouth shut. his brow furrowed, and the muscles in his jaw twitched as he fought to hold back whatever he was thinking.

“maybe... maybe i just don’t care enough to question you.” his tone was too light, too dismissive, but it didn’t quite match the storm of emotion brewing behind his eyes. his voice was steady, but there was a nervous edge to it; a trembling hesitation that you could feel radiating from him like heat.

that wasn’t it. you knew it wasn’t it, and it made you press on. “no, beomgyu,” you say, your voice a little firmer now, though your heart was thumping harder in your chest. “it’s more than that, and you know it. you let me cling to you, drag you across the city, and you never complain. you never ask why. you just... go along with it. no one else gets that from you. so tell me why.”

the silence that followed felt suffocating. beomgyu was so still beside you that it almost scared you. his hand clenched, then unclenched by his side, and you could see the muscles in his neck tighten, the pulse in his throat racing. his eyes flicked to you for a split second before darting away again.

"i don't know," he muttered, his voice almost too quiet to hear. "maybe i just... like spending time with you."

it wasn’t an answer, it was a deflection; a weak attempt to hide what he really meant. his words were wrapped in a layer of indifference, but underneath, you saw the flicker of something else—something warmer, something real, but it was buried under layers of uncertainty.

his breath hitched as he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here, with you, in this moment. you could see the conflict in his eyes, the way his brows furrowed as if the words were physically painful to say. the quiet moments between you were the loudest, filled with all the things neither of you were saying.

“i just don’t get it,” you said, voice trembling slightly as you leaned in closer, watching him with wide eyes. “you act like... like you care about what i want all the time, but why? why is it always so easy for you with me?”

beomgyu froze at the question, his expression faltering for the briefest moment. his lips parted, but the words didn’t come. you could almost hear the internal battle waging in his mind—his desire to be honest, to tell you everything, fighting against the fear of what would happen if he did. his eyes flickered to you again, but quickly darted away, unable to hold your gaze for longer than a second.

“i don’t... i don’t know how to explain it,” he finally relents, albeit slightly, his voice distant and strained. “it’s just... you’re... you’re easy to be with. okay? with you, it's like i don’t have to think; like i don’t have to second-guess myself and my actions. it’s simple. simple and... easy.”

you didn’t buy it, but you didn’t press him further. the hesitation in his voice, the way his gaze avoided yours, told you everything you needed to know. he was hiding something, something deep, something that made his heart race whenever you got too close to the truth.

but what? what was it?

for a moment, the silence stretched between you again, and you found yourself leaning back slightly, letting the words settle in the air. you studied beomgyu carefully, noticing how his posture had changed—how his shoulders were tense, how his hands were gripping the fabric of his pants like he was trying to ground himself.

“i just... don’t want to mess it up, okay?” beomgyu’s voice cracked on the last word, and you saw his eyes flicker to yours for the briefest moment before he looked away again, his face flushed in a way that made you feel both confused and oddly warm.

you stared at him, trying to process everything that had just happened. beomgyu wasn’t saying it—he wasn’t giving you the straightforward answer you were hoping for—but his emotions were clear. the way he was avoiding your gaze, the way his heart raced every time you got close to asking, and how his words came out jagged and unsure... it all pointed to something he wasn’t ready to admit.

but deep down, you could feel it—he genuinely cared. you just had to wait. you just had to be patient with him. with the way he held back, with the way he tried to guard his feelings so fiercely, it was clear that he needed time.

"beomgyu," you whispered, your voice softer now, as you took a small step closer to him. "it's okay. you don't have to say it if you're not ready. i... i'm sorry for pushing you too hard."

he finally turned to you then, his eyes meeting yours in a silent exchange that spoke volumes. and though he didn’t say it, the unspoken words hung between you like a promise—one he wasn’t ready to make, but one that you knew, deep down, he was already thinking.

#beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #tomorrow x together #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu x you #beomgyu imagines #txt x reader #txt #txt x you #txt fanfic #txt imagines #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu x female reader #beomgyu x male reader #kpop

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amyispxnk · 13 hours ago

Text

I'd run away and hide with you

Summary - Ellie joins you and Joel on your trek to Jackson. Along the way, your mind gets the better of you, and when you reach Jackson it all comes crashing down.

A/N: i don't have any excuses for why this took so long and im so so sorry guys 😭 2024 was hectic and ive only recently been able to catch up on stuff pls forgive mee

Pairing: platonic/father figure!Joel Miller x f!reader (could probably be read as GN tho?)

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, violence, guns, language, PTSD, abuse mentions, panic attack/mental breakdown

Previous Chapter || Series Masterlist

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

You’re getting bad again; that much is visible to him now. But he doesn’t even know what’s wrong this time.

You never open up to him anymore. At the start, you’d tell him everything that was going on in that little head of yours. You’d let him hold you while you cried. You’d always talk to him.

Now you don’t talk and you practically smack yourself in the face whenever you cry, willing the tears away as you bite down on your lip.

It’s been a few months since you left Boston to visit the guys at Lincoln. It was a good trip. After that hiccup at the start, you had pretty much forgotten about your dad; he couldn’t even get to you in your sleep. You spent a lot of time hanging out with Frank whilst Bill and Joel ‘talked business’, and it was pretty fun seeing the little home they had built for themselves in the town - Frank even let you pocket some strawberries, and it was your first time trying them. Safe to say they were fucking amazing, and you told Joel all about it that night. He'd pretend to be annoyed at your incessant rambling but he liked to see you happy, distracted, somewhat.

When you came back, Marlene was bugging Joel about some new smuggling job in exchange for the car battery he’d been searching for and before you knew it, you were back on the road again to bring this kid - Ellie - to the fireflies.

She was a bright, bubbly kid. Constantly talking and telling you and Joel jokes from that damn pun book of hers.

Joel didn’t warm up to her nearly as quickly as you did, and you obviously knew why. You’d been staying with him for almost half a year now, and had gone through a lot of shit with him, so he’d told you about his past. About Sarah.

So you had a hunch that that was why he didn’t open up to Ellie easily. That was why he’d always just grunt at her whenever she asked a question, why he’d practically toss her food at her when she had to eat, why he would barely even acknowledge her.

You could always tell he never meant it though. He didn’t really hate her. He cared about her - that’s just how he was - and it scared him. He was a protector, a fighter, and, most importantly, a father. He basically took you under his wing and gave you all the paternal love you ached for before, and now he had Ellie to look out for too.

But as time went on, you started noticing things. He started laughing at her jokes, or engaging in conversations with her, even telling her about before. You then realised how much it actually pissed you off.

Seeing them getting along made you incredibly jealous. Joel was your protector, your carer, your da..

You shake your head. It still felt weird when you accidentally found yourself thinking of him like that, giving him that name in your head.

It had been a few months since you all left Boston, for good you hoped, you hated that place and all the unfortunate memories you left there, but now you were in the cold and unforgiving state of Wyoming.

Right now you were all huddled around a fire in a little alcove. Joel had some whiskey which he sipped on.. As he talked to Ellie. Fucking Ellie, who was joking around with him, asking him stupid questions about some sheep farm on the moon.

You weren’t paying attention, you didn’t care. You instead chose to stew in your own thoughts which were drifting back to before any of this. You stared into the fire as you remembered the times you were the one making Joel smile, the one he’d hold and comfort, the one he’d talk with at the end of a long day.

He didn’t do all of that with Ellie, but he didn’t do any of it with you anymore, either.

Suddenly, your thoughts go even further back, remembering your father. Remembering the constant screaming which definitely damaged your eardrums by the time you’d left, the incessant beatings you received - at least that taught you first-aid, right? - and the many, many nights spent crying yourself to sleep. You didn’t get to cry in front of your father, knowing he’d only hit you harder for being weak and useless, so you just waited until you were curled up on the little mattress on the floor, your dad already asleep from the alcohol.

You only come back to the present moment when you taste the metal of blood in your mouth. You didn’t remember biting down on your lip but apparently you had been so hard that it made you wince slightly when you pressed your fingers to it.

Joel didn’t notice. He was still talking with Ellie, his eyes soft as he looked at her over the flames.

Jealousy makes tears sting at your eyes. You’d thought finally, finally, you found someone who would actually care about you.

Now you watch bitterly as Ellie makes him laugh more than you’d done in a while, wondering what you did wrong.

You were clutching your handgun tight, not feeling safe out in the open like this despite not having encountered any dangers for a good week now. It felt like things were too safe, and you didn’t like it.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Ellie blowing air through her lips, and it actually kind of annoyed you, because what was she even doing?

Joel asked that question for you.

“What are you doing..?” He sighs heavily, glancing at her, to which she just smirks.

“I’m learning to whistle.” She replies simply.

“You don’t know how to whistle?”

“Does it look like I know how to whistle?” She huffs.

They go back and forth for a little longer, with Joel ending up defeated as Ellie continues her air-blowing, and you find your heart splintering at the sight of them bickering only like father and daughter would. It might not seem like much, but you’ve definitely noticed how Joel’s gotten closer with Ellie over the past few months. It’s upsetting, seeing his natural paternal instincts coming out with her too now.

The three of you make your way past a big dam and arrive at a river, at which point Ellie unhelpfully chirps up.

“Hey, guys, what if this is the river of death?” She jokes, not realising how poor her timing was, for you hear the heavy thuds of horse hooves almost as soon as she finishes her sentence.

“Hands up. Don’t make any sudden movements, or we shoot.” A gruff voice barks out. You know better than to go against what they’ve said, so you turn slowly with your arms raised, and wait for Joel to do any negotiating.

“We ain't lookin’ for any trouble, we’re just passin’ through.” Joel says, keeping his voice strong and unwavering.

“Drop the gun.” The man spits, and Joel slowly does as he says, his eyes wide with panic and betraying the collected and brave persona he attempts to put on when he realises that this might be it.

Ellie looks equally terrified, and you can’t blame her, especially when the man addresses her directly, telling her to step back and away from you.

“How ‘bout we just talk this through-” Joel starts.

“How about you shut the fuck up?” The man’s gun is now raised, and Joel knows better than to argue now, nodding.

The man asks about if any of you are infected, and you feel the dread setting into your bones. Joel tries to diffuse the situation and ease the man’s (unfortunately correct) suspicions, but it’s no use, as he whistles for the sniffer dog.

He offers you a bullet instead, the easy way out, and you all remain silent, panicking further as the dog sniffs you, then Joel, then makes its way to Ellie.

You don’t know where to look, you can see Joel starting to hyperventilate, you can see Ellie’s eyes shining with a terror you’ve never seen her showing before, and you just decide to not look anywhere. You squeeze your eyes shut before-

She’s giggling. Your brows furrow, eyes opening to see Ellie playing with the dog, her face getting licked, and she looks over at the two of you, giving you a sort of ‘how the fuck am I alive’ look, before petting the dog and smiling.

“You just bought yourself 10 more seconds. What’s your business here?” The man shouts, and Joel tells him that he’s looking for his brother, trying to keep things brief.

A lady rides forward, asking Joel for his name. He gives it, and she’s silent, looking around at the three of you and trying to piece things together, before telling you to come with her.

Maybe something’s wrong with me, you think, picking at your nails absentmindedly as you trail behind the group - Maria, Joel, Ellie, and Tommy on their little tour of Jackson.

No, something’s definitely wrong with me. Because why else would you be so jealous of them? Of Joel finally finding his brother - another person to drive him away from you - and finally growing closer to Ellie.

Not to mention the way you just fucking clam up any time he asks about it.

Not to mention the way you just let it all build up, suffering in silence, waiting and waiting for the inevitable moment where you break.

You all end up in the dining hall afterwards and, while you’re pissed about everything else, you can’t deny some good food. You almost moan at the taste of proper, seasoned meat after all these months, wolfing it down in similar speed to Ellie and Joel.

“There’s more if you need it.” Maria adds after a few moments of watching you all, no judgement in her tone despite your rough actions.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Joel says, looking up briefly before continuing to eat. “Been a while since we’ve had a proper meal.”

“Actually I don’t think I’ve ever had a proper meal,” Ellie chimes in, making you clench your jaw. God, even her voice pisses you off. Nobody asked her to talk. “This is amazing.” She mumbles, food in her mouth.

Joel glances at her for a second.

“Sorry.” He tells Tommy and Maria. “Ellie, let’s mind our manners.”

She doesn’t reply, looking up instead to see a girl watching her behind a pillar.

“What!” She barks, making the girl run away and making you scoff. She glances at you, frowning, before continuing to eat.

You knew she didn’t hate you - you were a good pretender most of the time. Laughing at her jokes, smiling tightly during conversations.. But lately you’d slipped a bit, and she was starting to notice.

“What’s wrong with you?” Joel mutters.

“What about her manners?” Ellie spits, always so defensive.

“She was just curious.” Maria soothes, “Kids around here don’t usually look or talk like you.”

“Right,” she says, nodding her head slowly, “well maybe I’ll teach them.”

It takes everything in you to not scream. She was annoying you so much. And she was getting all the attention because of her boisterous behaviour. You were sitting there, quietly, calmly, and no one batted an eye at you.

“And I want my gun back.” Ellie argues.

“They also aren’t armed.”

Tommy jumps in, sensing the tension growing even more.

“You know what, uh, I think y’all got off on the wrong foot.” He starts, but the two keep bickering.

Eventually, Tommy reveals that Maria is his wife, and after an eager congrats! from Ellie, and the most forced one possible from Joel, the meal ends.

Tommy quickly shows the three of you around the rest of Jackson - Maria chose to stay behind - before leaving you and Ellie in your temporary house, going to have a chat with Joel.

“Soooo.. That was awkward, huh?” She chuckles, trying to joke with you like you used to at the start of all this.

You nod, anger still bubbling up inside of you. You didn’t want to be angry at her, or Joel, even, and you knew if you talked with her for too long you’d just end up yelling at her, so you tried your hardest to keep calm.

She chews on her lip, nodding slowly before starting to ramble about how crazy this town is and how Joel is totally pissed at Tommy.

You keep nodding along, wondering how on Earth she manages to keep going on and on for way too long.

Eventually, she bids you goodbye, going to explore the town.

You wouldn’t want to hang out with yourself either, you think as she closes the door.

Joel came back home in the evening, pissed off. You tried saying hi to him, having decided you were done being annoyed at him, but he completely brushed you off before storming upstairs.

Maybe you weren’t making it up. Maybe he did just.. Start hating you.

Ellie’s been in her claimed room for an hour, and the house is quiet until about 10pm. You’re still on the couch, curled up, lost in your thoughts. About Joel, about Ellie, wondering about yourself, too. You were thinking about how nice this town is, how you didn’t want to leave tomorrow at all, but figured you’d definitely have to. You’d have to return to the wasteland outside these walls, and you’d probably never make it back to Jackson.

You’d had too many close calls already. God, or whatever was out there, had probably spared you enough.

Your thoughts spiralled and spiralled until it happened.

Everything came out.

It started with tears, silent as they streamed down your face, before the anger released itself, making you dig your nails into your skin in some final attempt at self-control, before you were storming upstairs.

You throw the door open to Joel’s room, and he blinks at you, having been in bed, probably trying to sleep while you soaked in your misery downstairs.

He’s such a fucking asshole, is all you can think.

“I’m not coming with you tomorrow.” You mutter, surprised you aren’t yelling already.

His brows furrow and he stands up, trying to approach you.

“What’re you talkin’ about?” He says, voice stern and rough.

“You clearly don’t want me around anyway! I’d just be making your life even harder if I came with you. I’ll.. I’ll just go my own way.” You huff, voice quivering towards the end when you realised you’d have to trek this world alone now.

He repeats his previous question and you bury your face in your hands, nails tightening against your fists as you try not to start screaming at him.

“When was the last time we had a proper conversation? Or you asked me how I was doing? Or you hugged me, or anything?! You couldn’t even be bothered to say hi to me earlier, and last night you and Ellie were being buddy-buddy by the fire while I was literally on the verge of tears. You clearly don’t care about me anymore. It’s just her.” You’re shouting now, rage consuming you as you get closer to him, shoving him backwards.

He grabs your arms roughly and you visibly flinch, eyes widening under your furrowed brows as you peer up at him. His face is blurry underneath your tears, and your mind short-circuits.

Your dad is back? Your mind tells you yes. Yes, and you’ve pissed him off now, he’s grabbing you because he’s about to throw you on the floor. You’re always doing something wrong - you should’ve known better than to argue. Only insolent, disgraceful children open their mouths in retaliation. You should respect your father. Now you have to apologise and pray he accepts it.

Immediately you’re cowering. He can’t even get a word out before you start apologising, body trembling as he loosens his grip on you.

“Please, sir, I- I’m so sorry- I didn’t- I didn’t mean to- to yell. I’m sorry, I’ll leave, just please d-don’t- please don’t h-urt me-” you choke out, voice raw.

His expression softens, brows knitted in concern now rather than frustration.

“Baby, come here-” he tries to say, but you’re shaking your head, inching further backward until you press against the wall, whimpering when you realise you’re trapped.

Now he’s going to hurt you. Your apologies mean nothing when he gets this mad.

Joel had only grabbed you. It was nothing like the abuse you used to face and yet it was still enough to make you completely crumble.

You sink to the floor, sobbing, still apologising. Ellie’s awake by now, her eyes wide as she listens to what she can make out. What the fuck did he do to you? She’s about to get up, to go and protect you. She doesn’t care if you’d been giving her the cold shoulder for the past few weeks, she doesn’t care if Joel seemed to be giving her the opposite at last. If you’re in trouble and it’s because of him she didn’t fucking care about anything else.

But then she pauses, just outside the door, hearing him cooing at you.

“Calm down honey. It’s okay, it’s me, Joel. Look at me, please.” He murmurs, crouched down in front of you but still giving you some space.

You had your arms raised in front of your face, legs tucked inward, trying to protect yourself from any potential blows, mind still loud and thoughts jumbled, but his voice suddenly helped to clear some of the fog.

You peered at him through the space between your arms and blinked the tears away as best you could.

“..Joel?” You croak after a moment, and he nods, a small smile blossoming on his lips.

“‘S me, sweet girl. Come here.” He opens his arms for you, and you shift closer, still timid and not making that final step.

He sighs softly, not disappointed or annoyed, just sad that your trauma managed to put you in this state.

“It’s just me, okay? It’s Joel, not.. not him. Look at my face, baby.” He whispers, and you do. Your dad wouldn’t call you baby or speak softly with you. Surely this man in front of you wasn’t him.

When you finally recognise him, you feel the tears blooming again, a small whimper escaping your throat before you’re crawling into his lap, clutching him tight. Still apologising, as always.

“Shh, it’s okay. What’s goin’ on, hm?” He says, voice gentle as ever as he holds you. He doesn’t squeeze you tight, or move in any way, he just lets you cling to him. He doesn’t want to suffocate you, knowing you probably already feel like you're drowning, barely tethered to him for support.

“Y-you don’t like me anymore.” You hiccup, and he shakes his head.

“No, sweetheart. Of course I like you. You’re my.. You’re my girl, yeah? Could never hate you.” He murmurs, brows furrowing. Why did you even think that?

“B-but you get on with Ellie way better now, and- and you don’t even talk to me anymore.”

He sighs softly. Ellie was.. A chatty kid. If she didn’t start all those conversations with him, he doubts he would’ve engaged with her nearly half as much as he did. He had grown to enjoy her ramblings, of course, but he was too stressed, anxious all the time on the road, to ever actually start the chats with her or you. He realises now how that would’ve looked to you, understands the emotional breakdown you’d just had, understands why you’d been so quiet recently.

You thought he didn’t want you anymore.

He gently pulls your head back, tilting it up so you could meet his eyes. His thumb catches a tear before it can fall and he starts explaining.

“Babygirl, I wasn’t not talkin’ to ya as much cuz I didn’t like ya. I was just stressed.. Too focused on gettin’ us across the country in one piece to worry about conversations. Ellie’s.. a bit of a chatterbox so of course I had to be respondin’ with her, but..” he trails off, guilt consuming him more and more as he tries to reason with himself. Yes he was nervous but that’s no excuse for the state his negligence has landed you in.

“Fuck, there ain’t no excuse, really. I just.. Please, please believe me right now. I’m tellin’ ya, I don’t hate you and I never ever could, okay?” He pleads, eyes searching yours for any sort of understanding or forgiveness.

He definitely doesn’t see hatred there like he’d seen when you first stormed up here, no, he just sees confusion, worry.

“You really don’t hate me? Even- even after I gave you so much attitude and I was shouting at you? Surely I deserve.. You shouldn’t be being nice to me…” You whisper, brows furrowing, confused at the fact someone was apologising to you. Normally you were the one apologising. He’d been the only person to ever show you compassion and understanding, and you thought, surely you’ve fucked it all up now.

He sighs again, shaking his head. “I could never ever hate you, honey. Never. No matter what you do or say to me, I can promise you hatred would never even cross my mind.”

You whimper again, nodding. “Okay.” Is all you can get past your lips, your body shaking with sobs again as he finally allows himself to hug you properly, rocking you back and forth and stroking your hair.

He isn’t surprised when you fall asleep like this, curled up in his arms. You’ve exhausted yourself in every way tonight, and you deserve a good, long rest.

He grunts softly as he stands up, still keeping you clutched in his arms as he makes his way to the bed and sets you down. He’ll take the couch, he figures. His back is fucked already.

But then you stir a little, blinking up at him as he watches you.

“Joel?”

“Hmm?”

“Can.. can you please stay tonight? I just.. I’m…” You can’t get the words out, but he understands. He knows what you need.

He gets in beside you, kissing your forehead after you cuddle up to him and drift off slowly, blanketed by his comforting presence, your mind a little less stormy with his reassurances now there instead.

Sleep evades him for much longer, though, distant memories of Sarah swirling within his mind. He wonders what she’d think of him, of you, of the way he’s taken you in like this. Would she be proud? Would she be angry? Would she feel like he’s replaced her?

He shakes his head, knowing that those thoughts would just cause him to distance himself from you again.

He finally manages to fall asleep at 2am, dreaming of Christmas trees and a little girl with curly hair.

Tysm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

Tags - @tbeep @rosierogie @jjlevin @axshadows @pedropascalsbbg @pedroshotwifey @pedrosfanny @s0meoone

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elliereject · 15 hours ago

Text

only ever call me when you’re high

* you and ellie broke up forever ago, and yet you never fail to pick up when her name lights up your screen, only during the early morning, and only when she’s high.

* infidelity (abby my shayla ❤️), phone sex, mention and use of weed by ellie, pussyeating reader receiving, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, use of vibrators by both ellie and reader, angst and possible open ending (?), ellies kind of a jerk lol

* im sleepy but I wanted to get this out tonight, sorry if it’s buns it was supposed to be short 😭..i also suck at writing smut so apologies if that too is buns, i am open to a part 2 but idk what would happen and when it’d come out so pls don’t hesitate to lmk what you’d like to see…hope u enjoy !!

* mdni

* wc ~ 2.4k

Ellie had this terrible, terrible habit. One she told herself countless times that she would quit. But unfortunately, she never could.

You and Ellie had broken up months ago yet for some odd reason whenever she got high, which was frequently, she found herself dialing your number (one of the only ones she knew by heart) because something in her twisted, incapacitated mind craved to hear your voice.

In order to combat this, Dina made Ellie vow that she would only ever get high on the weekends or when she was feeling particularly stressed out and Ellie mostly followed through because she knew that Dina was right.

But tonight, tonight you had posted an especially scandalous picture in which you were at the beach, sitting in the sand with the straps of your bikini untied and your hand holding up the thin material that just barely covered your tits, your sun-kissed face was winking at the camera with a playful expression and she couldn’t fight the jealousy that sparked through her directed at whoever got to take that heavenly picture.

She had to get high, otherwise she was sure she’d end up punching a hole in the wall or throwing her switchblade at it, again.

She dug around in her bedside table until she found her lighter and one of her emergency pre-rolls. She clicked the lighter until the end of the rolled paper crisped up and started smoking, unveiling that familiar earthy scent.

She decided to pass the time between puffs by scrolling through your highlights and the rest of your posts. When she landed back on your beach post, the high finally hit her, along with another pang of jealousy and to nobody’s surprise, anger. “Who the..” She whispered to herself as she narrowed her eyes at the pinned comment,

abs.anderson: i saw these first 😉❤️

You had to be fucking kidding her, Abigail Anderson, that bitch of a friend you told her countless times not to worry about even though Ellie knew she liked you. Irritation overtook her and before she knew it her fingers were smashing in the digits that added up to your number.

It rang once, then twice before she heard the familiar grogginess of your voice.

“Hello?”

“Abby fucking Anderson?” She seethed.

She heard a sigh and the shuffling of your bedsheets before you answered, “Ellie, it’s...3 fucking AM. What the hell are you talking about?”

She rolled her eyes even though you couldn’t see her, “Abby Anderson, the friend I wasn’t supposed to worry about.”

“Yeah..what about her?” You sounded confused, as if you didn’t know exactly what you were doing.

“Are you fucking her?” Ellie asked impatiently.

You sighed again, “Are you high?”

“Answer me.”

“That’s none of your business.”

She rubbed her temples, you had always been so stubborn.

“I think it is my fucking business, I deserve to know.”

“Ellie, for Godsakes we broke up months ago, nothing I do should matter to you anymore. We’re over.”

“Oh yeah? Then why do you pick up every time I call?” She clicked her tongue.

“I…” You trailed off.

She had you there, despite the sour tone of your voice and angry puffs of air, you’d always always pick up whenever Ellie called.

“Does she fuck you better than me?” Ellie asked, taking another puff of the now small and burnt blunt.

“Ellie!” You gasped and she let out a raspy chuckle. “You can’t ask me something like that.”

“Is that a no?”

“It’s a none of your fucking business.”

“Ouch, good one.” She giggled. The weed was unfortunately starting to mellow out her anger and the situation almost seemed amusing.

“Fuck you, I’m hanging up—“

“I miss you.” She blurted out, she’d only just gotten you to answer and she didn’t want you to hang up yet, besides, there was a reason for her calling…

You groaned slightly, “Ellie.”

“I’m serious.” She said, even though you could hear the smile in her voice.

“Yeah, right. You miss me or the sex?” You replied, crossing your arms.

“Can’t I miss both?” She smirked, snubbing out her blunt and laying back on her worn bed.

“No. You can’t.” You scoffed.

“Come on ★, don’t be like that. I know you miss me too.” She’d whispered the last part, as if it were devilish secret.

“Yeah! I miss the dirty socks around my apartment and smelly ass hoodies you left on my bed.” You mocked.

Ellie sighed, “Really? Here I was thinking you were gonna say you miss my hands on you.”

“Ellie..” You were catching onto what she was doing and you hated to admit that it was working. Your lower belly surged at her suggestive words and your mind started to wander.

“Or the way I kissed your thighs.” She whispered.

“Ellie I—“

“Or the way you felt when my fingers were shoved into your pussy.”

Yeah, you were fucked.

Your fingers had found their way past the band of your underwear and toward your aching clit.

Ellie heard your labored breathing through the receiver and immediately registered what you were doing.

“Something wrong, ★?” She teased.

“N-no.” You bit back a moan as you moved your fingers faster around the aching nub, the raspy sound of Ellie’s voice egging you on.

“Are you sure? Cause I’m hearing a lot of..shuffling.”

“Yeah it’s… just moving—around.” You said, through laboured breaths.

“Really? Because if I didn’t know any better…I’d have guessed you were fucking yourself.”

Heat creeped up your neck and face, surely you would die of embarrassment, either at the fact that Ellie knew what you were doing or that getting caught made you gush.

“N-no. Like I said, I was just moving.”

You sounded so tense, she almost burst out laughing. Did hearing her really turn you on that much? She decided to test that theory.

“Well, it’s almost 4..you must be pretty tired. I’ll just hang up a—“

“No! Fuck Ellie, keep talking please.” You begged.

That was more like it, no more snarky responses and aloof comments. She knew she could break you, she always did.

“Yeah? You want me to keep going?” The smugness in her voice pissed you off, yet made your thighs clench at the same time. By now her phone was resting on her pillow and her own hand was shoved past her boyshorts.

You nodded before verbalizing your thoughts, “Yes, please.”

“Then tell me,” Ellie said, her legs spread wide on her bed with her while her long fingers circled her slick clit. “Does she fuck better than me?”

You hesitated, knowing whatever you answered with would open a whole other can of worms that you didn’t particularly feel like dealing with.

Unfortunately, you didn’t answer fast enough for Ellie’s liking.

“Hmm. Okay, hanging up.”

“No!” You blurted, you could feel your climax approaching and as much as you hated to admit it, hearing Ellie’s voice, beginning to sound as fucked out as you were, along with the faint squelch of her playing with herself were the only things that would get you there.

A lazy smile tugged at her face, “No she doesn’t fuck better than me? Or no you don’t want me to hang—“

“No. She doesn’t fuck better than you.” You finally admitted.

While her ego swelled and another gush of wetness left her, Ellie wasn’t sure whether to be upset by the confirmation that you and Abby were indeed fucking or to be joyous that she was better in bed than her.

She decided on the latter when she heard a strained whine come from your end of the line.

“Fuck baby I wish I was there with you right now.” She sighed the callus of her finger rubbing against her clit deliciously.

“What would—shit—what would you do?”

Her brain still hazy from her high sputtered as she tried to think back to when the two of you were together, and what drove you absolutely crazy.

A smirk creeped its way onto her face as she rasped into the phone, “I’d start slow, kiss you the way I know you like while my hands play with your tits.”

Your free hand trailed up to your chest, rolling one of your nipples between your fingers. You scrunched your eyes closed, imagining it was Ellie’s warm, rough hand instead of your own.

“Then,” she continued. “I’d move lower, and suck on those perfect nipples of yours.”

A quiet moan escaped you, you could practically feel her wet tongue glide across your tits. You decided that your fingers weren’t doing enough and reached over to your bedside table to pull out your small blue vibrator.

Ellie heard the faint click and buzz and let out a quiet chuckle at the familiar sound before following suit.

You kept the setting low as you held it against your swollen bud, waiting for Ellie to continue.

She spoke through soft gasps, the incessant vibrations on her pussy making her buck agaisng the toy, she could feel her climax approaching and she was getting impatient.

“Then I’d kiss down your hips, leaving marks here and there so that bitch knows your mine. Then when I get to that slutty pussy of yours I’d take you in my mouth, rolling my tongue against your clit over and over. Until the only thing you could say was my name.”

You upped the setting, practically humping the toy at this point as the image of Ellie, bent in front of you, abusing your cunt with her tongue filtered through your head.

“Ohmygod. ‘m s-so close, Ellie.” You repeated her name like a mantra and the sound was music to her ears as she upped the vibrator to its highest setting, tears pricking at her eyes at the overwhelming pleasure as she circled her needy clit.

She was oh so close, but she needed to hear you say something first.

“Who’s—fuck me—pussy is that?” She all but gasped into the phone.

Your response was delayed from how lost you were in your own pleasure, “W-what?”

“Who’s pussy is that?” She repeated.

She was ridiculous! and if it weren’t for how desperately you wanted to come you would’ve told her so, but you were getting tired and if you didn’t come soon you were certain you would die.

“Yours! Fuck Ellie, it’s yours, always.” You cried.

As soon as those sweet words hit her ears her orgasm crashed into her, her cunt spasmed as she bucked up into the vibrator. Her high tripling the waves of pleasure that rocked over her and tears streamed down her cheeks while quiet moans and slurred curses rolled out of her.

She heard when you reached yours, quiet whimpers followed by loud curse filtered through her speakers and she could practically see what you looked like; your brows scrunched up and eyes half open while your jaw hung slack, your swollen lips slick with salvia and back arched as you twitched against the vibrator before slumping into your soft sheets.

For the next few minutes neither of you said anything, allowing each other to recover. After a while of hearing nothing but her quiet breaths, you were sure Ellie had fallen asleep, and made to grab your phone so that you could hang up.

Right before you could press the red end call button, she spoke up.

“I still love you.” Her voice was small, and the difference between it now and just 20 minutes ago almost made you laugh.

“Ellie…” You sighed, you were so certain of your break up with her. The two of you were on and off for months before you officially broke things off and you’d felt so relieved in the moment.

Abby had been there for you, she’d comforted you and supported you and was an almost perfect lover. But a tiny, twisted part of you still ached for Ellie’s touch.

“I’m with Abby now.” You whispered almost imperceptibly.

“I know,” She spoke softly. “But I know you still love me too.”

You went quiet, uncertainty quelled in your heart. Did you still love her? Or was the high from your orgasm still clouding your brain. You tried your best to remember the lowest points during your relationship with her but nothing came to mind.

Only her gentle hands, soft eyes, and warm kisses.

You scrunched your eyes shut, you couldn’t believe yourself. You were dating another woman, a woman who loved you dearly, and yet here you were, almost ready to admit your love for someone else, for your ex. Could you be any more pathetic?

“Ellie. I think you should stop cal—“

“Baby?”

Your thumb jammed against the end button so quickly your phone slipped out of your hand and fell on the floor with a loud clatter.

Abby peeked her head into the door, her long blonde braid loose from a long shift at the hospital and quick after work gym session. “You’re still up?”

“Uh—yeah, couldn’t sleep.” You lied.

She took in your form, a suggestive smile playing on her lips.

Your heart raced as she approached the bed and leaned down to kiss your cheek, your entire body tensed.

“Looks like somebody missed me.” She nodded at your discarded vibrator, practically mocking you from its place on your sheets.

You gave her a small smile, “I…we need to talk.”

#ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie angst #ellie fic #ellie x reader #ellie au #ellie fluff #ellie smut #tlou

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