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icallhimjoey · 2 months ago

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Almost, Always

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: it's monday! and fake joe's here for you! he's... not exactly the best, for which i apologise, but, he's all for you, so please, enjoy him fictionally and respect him privately (too much to ask? i hope not?) ok great talk everyone, love you <33 xo

Wordcount: 6.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Four days of silence.

Four days of not looking each other in the eye. Of no physical touch. Of not saying a single fucking word.

You moved around each other in a shared space until you had the thought that you were probably better off avoiding each other completely for a little while.

Joe was convinced he had every right to wait for an apology before he’d speak to you again. You, however, obviously heavily disagreed.

You had just been honest.

Joe had asked for you to be honest and so, you had been, but apparently, you’d done it wrong.

It started with an evening of not speaking after an outburst. A silent night routine where you completely avoided one another. Acted like the other person wasn’t even there. You’d thought then that you’d speak in the morning. That you’d talk things out after getting some sleep, because maybe that was the problem.

You slept with your backs facing each other and dreamed of better moods in the morning.

But then the next morning, Joe had gotten up and only made one coffee.

One singular cup of coffee.

He drank it at the kitchen table, looked at you all bitterly like a disappointed parent would look at their child who was ruining their potential, and then left the empty cup there for you to grow even more annoyed at. More than you already were.

That one evening of silence had slowly turned into four days.

You bit your tongue, though. Kept quiet, because Joe did too. Stored the annoyance away. Swept it under the rug, and even though this metaphoric rug was starting to look really lumpy, you pretended you could walk over it fine still.

You then also ignored that this is precisely what the fight had been about. About you shutting up about all the little things that annoyed you. All the small things that didn’t feel worth the effort to say anything about in the moment, because you didn’t want to be a nag.

Things built with you.

Being bothersome was your worst nightmare, so you wouldn’t say anything for ages until then suddenly, on a random afternoon, a teeny tiny drop made the bucket overflow and you’d fall apart at something so stupidly insignificant which would take everyone by surprise.

Would take Joe by surprise.

And it made sense that Joe’s first reaction to your fire would be to light his own. You’d snap and shout, so Joe’d snap and shout right back.

“Babe, you never fucking communicate! It’s always– I’m always guessing with you! Just tell me when something upsets you!”

“I am!”

“Yea now you are! But you’re telling me about shit I said three months ago! What do you want me to change about something I did three months ago?!”

“I don’t want you to change anything– my God! You asked me what’s wrong, so I’m telling you what’s wrong!”

It was always the same fight. And usually, you’d end up saying something so stupid to your own ears it would break the tension and make you laugh. It’d be easy to apologise in those moments, because you knew this was on you, and the warmth coming off of Joe as he’d turn soft at your laughter would always sort of fix things.

“Stop being so silly,” he’d say as he’d hug you. As he’d kiss you on the cheek until your embarrassed grimace, aimed fully at yourself, disappeared.

“Got some moaning left in there?” he’d ask, tapping the side of your head with a finger, making you giggle despite yourself. “Want to go shout into the air from the balcony? Since you’re here now, this is the time to get all of it out.”

That was how it usually went.

And he was right; you could definitely communicate better. Express feelings in the moment rather than hold on to all the negative shit for ages.

Easier said than done, but at least you were aware that you had to stop saving things for another day.

This time the fight had been different though. There was no eventual humour slipping through any cracks. No secret smiles hidden from each other until you stopped being able to conceal them. No apologies. Zero kind words. Just… anger. And silence.

Joe was waiting for you to break first. For your wrath to turn into something a little softer that he could mould into something more to his liking.

And you were waiting because Joe was waiting. Simple as that.

It didn’t feel fair that every time you’d share negative feelings, Joe would end up calling you silly.

It didn’t feel fair that Joe never apologised for anything.

It didn’t feel fair that, just because you were quiet for a moment as you collected your thoughts, Joe spat, “Silent treatment? All right.” at you.

Four days.

Four days of Joe making a morning coffee just for himself, actively choosing to ignore, and therefore, hurt you.

Four days of his lone empty coffee cup left on the table, which you then didn’t clean, because why the fuck would you, but the sight of it was eating you alive.

You spent four days witnessing petty, childish behaviour from the man who you started believing you needed some space from. A little breathing room. Just until he’d miss you enough to reach out and say sorry, you know?

You wondered if he was thinking the same.

If the silence was also letting his mind wander into those same dark corners yours was exploring.

But then, Joe broke it.

A glass of wine on that fourth night broke it.

It wasn’t exactly an apology, but… it felt like one. You decided it was an apology.

You were sitting on the sofa, tapping away on your phone, talking to Emily about your stupid boyfriend, and she was a good friend, made fun of him effortlessly which really did a good job of making you feel better.

Then, Joe placed a glass of wine down on the coffee table in front of you.

It didn’t fully register at first.

You saw the glass, but assumed it was Joe’s wine that he poured for just himself, and if you were going to want some, you’d have to go and fetch you own.

Mid-typing out a message to Emily about it, you felt Joe sit down next to you, and when you chanced a quick glance, you saw that he was holding a glass of wine himself as he got comfortable and turned on the TV.

Slowly, your phone lowered into your lap, and you stared at that glass of red wine on the table for a moment.

Without warning, your eyes welled up.

He poured that for you.

In the effort to not let Joe notice how this gesture hit you right in the gut, you held your breath until you were shaking, and then a heaving sob burst out of you.

Shit.

You shattered.

Split right down the middle, and burst into pieces with such vigour, you surprised yourself, but surprised Joe more.

He had expected you to pick up the glass and empty it in the sink, or whatever.

Four days was much longer than he thought you’d let this go on for.

His girlfriend was stubborn – he knew that. But four days? Four days was a really fucking long time. And, apparently, four days was long enough for a simple glass of red supermarket wine to make you cry.

The astonishment rendered Joe useless for a moment.

He just looked at you for a moment as you sat with your phone in your lap, head dropped down, and your face covered by both your hands.

This was really fucking embarrassing.

Your legs felt the want to escape the situation before your mind got the chance to catch up. You were up on your feet and wanted to bolt it to the bedroom when you heard Joe put his glass of wine down.

You hadn’t even taken two steps before you got taken hold of by an arm. Pulled into a chest. Held firmly into place.

Going from four days of moving around each other like you didn’t exist to one another, to the very sudden tightest hug you’d received in ages was a lot.

And then Joe placed a hand on the back of your neck and squeezed you gently, making you fucking bawl.

No one apologised.

No one said a word, actually.

But you took whatever that glass of wine was as enough of an olive branch to let yourself be hugged.

Be shushed quietly.

Be gently kissed and softly touched.

It shouldn’t have counted as an apology, but you’d taken it as one, and Joe had conveniently let you.

Saturday night.

You’re out.

Alone.

You know Emily would have come if you had asked her to, but you hadn’t, because she would’ve likely asked a bunch of questions you didn’t want to answer.

“Where are we going?” “That’s not where we usually go...” “Why are we going there?”

Couldn’t tell her. She’d try her best to talk sense into you. Would try to convince you that this behaviour wasn’t serving anyone in the long term.

And she’d be right.

But you currently don’t really care about the long term.

Short term is where it’s at.

Where all the fun and the excitement lives.

So you’re out. Having drinks at a bar by yourself, and you do your very best fending off any trickle of doubt at your life choices until you see him walk in.

Jackpot.

You fucking knew it.

You pretend you haven’t seen him at all, of course. Continue your chat with the girl behind the bar, until suddenly–

“You know you’ve got the worst timing?”

Joe sneaks up on you.

His voice is low in your ear, and you do your very best to sound as surprised as you possibly can when you gasp a small breath, all innocent. You turn your head to see him over your shoulder, both his hands on your sides as he looks down at you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You say it like you truly didn’t expect to run into him.

Oscar worthy.

Well. It would have been, had you not both been very aware that you’re exactly where you are for this exact reason. Wearing what you are wearing, drinking what you are drinking. It’s more than a lucky guess that he’d be here tonight.

Joe’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

“I’m here with a whole group.” Joe’s making excuses he already knows aren’t going to stop either one of you.

“Do I know them?”

“No.” Joe answers as he scans your face from the side. God, you look all… glossy.

“Good.” Would’ve been a bit awkward otherwise.

“You better hang around for a bit.” Joe gives you a face, sort of stern, and it’s so comfortable to frown at him. To act all offended. Like it’s not exactly what you want to hear.

“Excuse you, I’m–” you start all aghast, and want to add, I’m seeing someone, which is a lie, but you get cut off by a strong squeeze into your waist from both his hands.

“I’m not joking. Give me… maybe, like, an hour and I’ll come get you.”

You scrunch your nose at him and he gives a small nod, his grin spreading wide, before he turns around and finds the people he came in with.

You’re alone. Single, and having drinks in a bar by yourself, which has every opportunity to feel a little sad, but instead you feel giddy. You predicted you’d run into him, and then you did.

Perfect.

You’re a genius.

After last time, you kind of want Joe to think that you are seeing someone. Just to make you feel like you’ve got the upper hand. Not that it matters. You’ve both made the same wrong choice in similar situations before. But, still. You just don’t want him to win.

Joe joins his friends, and he throws a quick glance back to see you smile into your drink as you take a sip.

Yea. Glossy is the right word, he thinks. He could stare at you all evening.

Fuck.

A whack to his shoulder by one of his friends pulls him into a conversation and momentarily, he shifts into the evening he had planned to have.

He forgets about you for a minute, but never entirely.

It’s like there’s a constant little buzz in the back of his head, and he keeps wanting to look over. See what you’re doing. Who you’re talking to. Who’s talking to you.

Joe’s in trouble.

You do things to him that he can’t entirely comprehend, and that no one before or after you has ever really managed. He doesn’t know what to make of that most of the time, except that the feelings he’s got for you are sort of… big. And scary.

You’re still devastatingly gorgeous to him, he can objectively look at you and think, yea she’s fucking hot, but you also manage to make him laugh. Manage to him feel heard and cared for. Manage to make him forget about all current worries life has on offer for him.

And Joe is generally, just, doomed.

Whatever he had with you had worked for a while and then suddenly it hadn’t anymore. You’d suddenly wanted out, but now… it feels a little like you both want to start over. Like you both want to forget about that chapter of bullshit. Pretend it never happened.

And what’s the problem with that?

Is whatever you are doing now a problem? If it works?

If it doesn’t hurt people, Joe thinks there’s no issue.

But he knows it actually does hurt people. It’s another truth he ignores. Tries to, at least.

There’s no denying the gravitation pulling the two of you closer and closer together until eventually you end up a tangled mess. Like a pair of forgotten earphones left in a coat pocket, too annoying to untie, so instead someone will pull at both ends until the earpieces reach both ears, leaving the wire tangled up even tighter as it sits under their chin.

Even though Joe appreciates the poetic beauty he can find in all of that, he knows he’s got to fucking stop hurting people all the time.

He can’t help his feelings.

But he can help how he treats others.

If he is going to choose to let the general ache of a bad week be soothed by the balm of your presence, he can at least have the decency to not let others presume they’re dating him. Because generally, that’s always been his problem. Joe’s vague and avoidant and all about surface level fun – he never defines anything if he can help it, and he lets others think what they please.

It’s easier that way.

For him, at least.

It’s both a shame and a godsend that this is a part of him that you know through and through. That you see. He doesn’t have to try to hide it, because he knows that it’s of no use with you.

And apparently, it’s fine, because here you fucking are, aren’t you?

He remembers when he thought you were just the same, and remembers how he felt so lucky at first.

A perfect match.

He’d learnt over time, you’re actually very much not the same. But! You had at least some of the same tendencies, and you showing up in this particular bar tonight was enough proof of it.

Joe’s in his group of friends, and they’re all chatting and laughing, and this was meant to be a fun night out, but he might as well just leave right now. His mind is with the girl at the other end of the bar, sat on her own, smiling and chatting to whoever had the courage to strike up a conversation.

Yea.

He’s got more problems.

Forget not wanting to define anything with anyone.

Joe also has to stop banking his entire future on the idea that you want him too.

There’s… there’s a lot of things to ignore.

It should foreshadow that the path he’s going down isn’t good. Isn’t the right one. But... it’s so fun and exciting, he kind of has to know where it leads.

He sighs loudly, a frustrated grumble originating from sheer defeat, and he gives the glass he’s holding a glance. He’ll finish this, and then he’ll fetch you and leave.

About fifteen minutes later, he’s got you under his arm and is leading you outside. Asks, “Yours or mine?” because there’s no need to act coy with you.

You answer, “Yours.” a little too quickly for Joe not to raise an eyebrow at.

You’re walking together, and you’re still fixing your scarf, but your steps are too determined. Too rushed for your quick answer not to hide at least some secrets.

“What, you got anything to hide from me?”

“No–”

“Let’s go over to yours. It’s closer.” he challenges without the intent to actually do so, footsteps still carrying him in the direction of his own flat.

“No, I–”

“Or has Jasper left all of his things strewn about?” Joe couldn’t finish the question before having to twist his mouth in a bid to hide his smile.

You stop walking for just a second, and give him a dead pan stare that transitions into an eye-roll before you flatly say, “All right, good night.” and pretend to turn around to leave.

It makes Joe throw his head back in a laugh, both his arms grabbing at you and pulling you close.

“Mine, okay. Mine.”

And you fall back into step, smiling into your scarf at how you just made Joe’s laugh echo down the street.

Feels good to make Joe laugh.

It’s quiet for a bit, just a short few seconds. Just footsteps on the ground amongst the noises of the city. Somehow, it feels like it drags on, like every second lasts a whole minute, and you can’t help filling it with awkward chat. “No,” you start. “Jasper’s put all of his things where they’re supposed to go.” And you give Joe a pointed look after.

He bites immediately.

“Wha– I always put my things where they’re supposed to go!”

He doesn’t.

You know he doesn’t.

He knows you know he doesn’t.

It’s impossible to forget all of the little things that made the rug look all lumpy. You’d always keep things under there for ages, which gave you a lot of time to quietly lift up corners to examine all the mess.

So you snort, and he stutters through beginnings of words he never finishes to find excuses that don’t exist until you’re both laughing.

Then he says, “Here. I’ll put this thing where it’s meant to go.” And you think it’s just about the cheesiest innuendo ever, but then he takes your wrist in his hand and lets his fingers intertwine with yours.

You look up at him with a pursed smile, but Joe’s already looking right ahead, making sure you don’t bump into anything.

You’re lucky it’s cold enough to blame the flush of your cheeks on the cold wind.

You hold hands all the way to Joe’s flat.

It’s nice.

You also talk about Jasper all the way to Joe’s flat.

That’s less nice.

Joe asks what else Jasper does that he allegedly doesn’t. If he lets you keep your heating on. If he lets you sleep closest to the door. Every question comes out with disdain, like this loser doesn’t know what he’s fucking doing.

And you answer every question with lies. Paint a very pretty picture.

Jasper doesn’t even fucking exist, but you like that Joe thinks you’re taken. That you’re off the market, and that he shouldn’t be taking you home, but still chooses to. You think maybe he wouldn’t have held your hand if he thought you weren’t already spoken for.

However, it doesn’t feel so nice to remember all the things that ruined your relationship with Joe. He just keeps listing a bunch of shit you’d once yelled at him for, and you don’t think he fully understands how it’s bringing the mood down.

Presumably, you’re meant to think it’s funny, so you smile, but all of it sits wrong in your gut. It leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth that uncomfortably sticks to your tongue and sours your mood a little.

The short-term fun with Joe is meant to be just that. Fun. You don’t want to be reminded of all the reasons why you shouldn’t be going home with him right now. If you did, you’d have taken Emily with you tonight.

You refrain from saying anything, though.

You’re still you, after all.

You just smile and tell Joe that Jasper actually does do all the things that Joe never did, and hope it sparks enough jealousy in him to maybe do something about it.

“Hmm,” Joe says when you turn the corner and his building comes into view. “Jasper sounds... he sounds kind of perfect, doesn’t he?”

He does.

You’ve created the image of a perfect boyfriend. One who you know you’d never actually gel with; you need someone who pushes back a little.

Problem is... Joe knows that too.

Just when the thought crosses your mind that maybe Joe knows you’re making everything up, that you’ve been lying this whole time you’ve been holding hands, Joe confirms your fears.

“Almost too um... almost too good to be true, wouldn’t you say?” he narrows his eyes in suspicion, a smile still playing on his lips.

“Yea, well. Some people are.” you shrug, but know Joe is reading your unsteady body language just fine.

“Sure, sure. Yea. I guess so.” Joe says, and then falls silent.

He knows you’re lying.

Well, fuck.

And then, he lets the silence linger.

Joe doesn’t say anything as he fishes his keys from a pocket and lets you into his building. Doesn’t say anything as he pushes the lift button. Just gives you a little smile, like he’s trying to hold in a chuckle, thinking secret thoughts.

It gets in your hair.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s... no, it’s nothing.”

Joe lets his small smile turn into a fat smirk and it’s starting to get on your nerves. The lift doors open, and you assertively step inside before Joe can give you a small ladies-first gesture.

Joe watches you press the button to his floor before he shakes his head a little and follows you in.

“What?” you ask again, and to that, Joe finally lets a barking laugh out.

“What?” he mimics, feeding off of the brooding bit of bite he can sense growing underneath your skin.

“If you’re trying to piss me off, it’s fucking working.”

“I’m not trying to do anything.” Joe patronises, joy very much still visible in the lines on his cheeks.

He knows you’re single.

He knows there’s no Jasper.

“Hmm.” It’s your turn to narrow eyes at him. “Yea, no. Of course not. You don’t have to try to piss me off, you’re right. You’ve got the skills to auto-pilot your way–”

In a lightning-speed quick move, Joe shuts you up by suddenly getting close enough for you to stumble back against the mirrored panel or the lift. He’s got two hands touching your sides over your coat, firm enough for you to feel them through the thick layers of fabric.

It startles you into silence, and makes you audibly swallow.

You can see from up close how Joe smugly pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, eyes roving over you slowly, and, fuck.

Yea.

Yea. Okay.

It shifts.

All of it is shifting.

The annoyance and slight anger transfers into something else.

Into something a little more raunchy.

You feel a sudden rush down your body from the way Joe’s eyes blaze with intention.

Joe knows you. Bit rash of you to forget.

Just before the lift stills and the doors open behind him, Joe lets his body sway forward a bit to press himself up against you entirely. It makes your breath hitch and stutter. Makes you want to grab hold of the large collar of his coat to pull him down enough so you can kiss him.

But then, in a blink of an eye, he’s gone. Pushes himself off, quickly moves away, walks out of the lift, and leaves you there to catch your breath for a second.

Fucking hell.

Oh, tonight is going to be interesting.

You don’t leave the lift until the doors start closing and you have to quickly launch yourself across to get an arm in front of the sensor. Down the hall you see him disappear into his flat, leaving his door open, and you take rushing steps to follow him inside.

You don’t want to waste any more time.

You want to undress right there on his doormat, despite the bitterly cold temperature you’ve just stepped into.

You want find Joe, who you can hear is already opening and closing cupboards in his kitchen, and just... you don’t know. Jump him, you guess.

That lift moment has made you want to devour him. Made you want to be devoured by him.

But then you close his door and step into his kitchen, and find him at the counter. He’s got his back turned, and is super calmly pouring two glasses of wine.

No urgency.

Zero haste.

He knows what he’s just done to you. Knows the effect that likely must have had. He’s toying with you. Fucking playing.

You drop your coat where you’re standing, right onto the floor. Toe your shoes off to make a pile. You cross your arms and grab hold of the bottom of your top, ready to pull that over your head next, but you pause to watch Joe’s shoulders move under his shirt as he carefully twists and pushes the cork back onto the bottle to seal it.

When he turns around, he leans against the counter, one hand on the edge of it, and in the other he’s holding a nice fat glass of red.

Glass.

One glass.

For a moment you just assume that there’s another hiding behind his back, though it doesn’t even fully register.

You make eye-contact as he takes a slow sip of his drink, and then you slowly pull your top off. It reveals a lacy bra you’re convinced Joe likes the look of.

And you’re right.

Joe halts, and openly stares. Mouth in his wine. Hypnotised. Frozen on the spot. Mind slowly turning to mush.

He’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

You take a deep breath, inflating your whole chest, and Joe groans at the sight. The glass of wine gets put back down behind him, and you don’t even think he has taken real sip. Then he takes a few steps to pull a chair from his table.

He holds a hand up that means, one second, and pulls at the fabric of his trousers to give himself a bit more space before he sits down. He shifts a little, settles in, and then leans back with his legs spread wide, both hands behind his head, fingers folded and elbows sticking out.

He takes a deep breath before he gives a small nod that says, carry on.

You bite your teeth into your bottom lip as you smile, because Joe is an idiot, and you let your hands find the button to your trousers to take off next.

Then, suddenly, it lands.

There’s one single glass of wine on the counter.

One.

You stop your movements as you look at it and watch the red liquid inside softly swirl from when Joe put it down.

It takes a second for Joe to follow your gaze, and for him to understand what you’re looking at.

He frowns in confusion a little, looks back at you to see that you’re still staring, and then looks back again, and–

“Oh...”

Your expression has gone cold.

And Joe thinks that maybe he gets it. He isn’t entirely sure, but he’s smart enough to know that the show he had just settled in for is probably going to get cancelled if he doesn’t do anything.

“Did you...”

But he’s not sure what to say. Doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. When you start moving, he thinks maybe he doesn’t have to.

It’s crazy how this feels like it used to feel, before.

But, it’s a little different now, because… there’s nothing at stake. There’s no you to protect. No you two as a couple to preserve.

That stupid single glass of red wine.

You fucking hate it.

And you know it’s sick, you know that you’re not meant to enjoy this, but the feeling of rage bubbling up within you honestly feels kind of good. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to experience full-body resentment, and have the immediate source of it right there to take it out on.

You want to feel this dark, sticky displeasure.

Feels fucking good.

Joe’s been reminding you of what a shit boyfriend he was to you, which was meant to be ha-ha funny. Joe thought enough time had passed. You had gone from no-contact to two people that bickered for a bit, and then would end up in bed together. It had happened twice already, and you had all the right ingredients to keep this going. The recipe had proven itself delicious, and Joe thought he could just... serve the same meal again.

It’s self-destructive, you know it is, but… you are hungry for it too.

You take a few slow steps and walk over to look at this glass of wine more closely. Joe watches you from his seat, entirely unsure of what to do, and then, without warning, you slowly push the whole thing into the sink.

Red splashes everywhere, and the glass clatters loudly, but it doesn’t break.

Next, you take the bottle into your hands. Look at the label for a moment. Pretend to read it. It’s still pretty full.

Too bad, you think. Such a waste.

You remove the cork, turn around to look Joe directly in the eye, and then tip that over as well. The whole sink colours blood read as you drain the whole thing, and all Joe can do is watch on from his seat.

He doesn’t stop you.

Doesn’t say anything.

Just watches you and feels the energy of the room build.

He’d forgotten how things always build with you.

You’re quite the sight, face reading thunder, standing in his kitchen in your bra, breath deepening with every second that passes.

Joe hates what it does to him inside of his trousers.

When the bottle empties, wine clattering in the sink, Joe sees your face change. Something more… calm seemingly overcomes you. You look... pleased.

“Does that feel justified?” Joe asks, eyes blinking at you.

“Fuck you. Yes it does.”

“Do you have any idea how expensive that was?”

You don’t give a shit how expensive that was, but just because you know Joe does, you want to know.

“Tell me.”

Joe scans your body all the way down and then all the way back up.

“Come here.” Joe holds an arm out and reaches for you.

“Shut up. Tell me.” You’re already making your way over.

“That’s a class A premier grand cru...”

You take Joe’s hand and let him pull you to sit on his lap. To straddle him, thighs spread wide, one leg over each one of his.

“That was a class A premier grand cru.” the words mean nothing to you, you know fuck all about wine, but there’s something glorious about correcting Joe.

“Hmm.” Joe hums as his nose nudges yours, and he lets both hands slide up your thighs until he finds the bits he likes holding most. He uses his grip to pull you in closer and continues, “A blend of merlot, and cabernet franc...” Joe’s French accent is awful. “An award-winning Château Angélus from... from 2016, I think...”

That’s fairly recent, you think. Can’t be that expens–

“Cost me over 500 quid.”

Your eyes darken.

Good.

You wouldn’t pay much more than a tenner for a bottle of the same size.

“Should’ve poured me a glass.”

And it’s only then that the penny drops. That he gets it. You can see it in his eyes. The flush of memories suddenly making it to the forefront of his brain.

The silent treatment.

The coffees he didn’t make you.

The wine he eventually did pour for you.

That one glass of red that temporarily had fixed everything.

Shit.

Joe grimaces. Groans. Squeezes his eyes shut. Feels like an idiot.

“Should’ve poured you a–”

You kiss Joe.

Hard.

Breathe him in, and move in enough for it to almost make the chair tip backwards. You’ve got both your arms around his neck, hips moving over Joe’s lap in a desperate grind, all needy and in search of feeling something.

Fire.

You want to feel the fire.

Momentarily, you think it’s working. That something is catching aflame. You can feel how Joe spreads his legs even wider, bucking his hips upward as he presses himself into you.

Joe is straining in his trousers, and he groans as you figure out the right rhythm to make it feel good with every hip roll, with every back and forth.

You break the kiss to let a moan escape you, head dropping back, and Joe’s mouth finds the skin of your neck to taste. His teeth graze before he kisses as you fiercely move against each other. Louder noises escape you when Joe lets a hand curl around and grab you by the back of your neck.

“Yea? That feel nice?” he pants, and all you can do is bob your head in a barely there nod as you keep moving.

It does feel nice.

Feels really nice.

Not exactly fire, though. You’re both in trousers, fabric rubbing together furiously, dry humping each other like a pair of horny teenagers who haven’t passed third base yet.

So, not fire, but nice none the less.

In contrast, there’s a lot of things Joe’s feeling, and he kind of wants you to know about all of them. Needs to speak them into the air in order to fully process what’s happening inside of his brain.

“Did you know I um… I broke everything off, the next day?” Joe starts, and stops to curse under his breath. “Fuck. Yea, keep going. Shit. Ah... A-after you left, I mean, remember? I had a lot of m-missed calls, so I called her back, and I–”

You shut Joe up with a kiss.

Try to at least.

“We could–” Joe starts again after turning his head and pushing you aside with his nose, both hands spread wide over your thighs as he helps you move over his lap. “Remember, how we really were something?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Try to focus on the feelings inside of your body instead of on the words you don’t want to hear.

“We could be something still.”

“N-no.”

You refuse to acknowledge what Joe’s trying to tell you, but don’t stop your movements. You can’t stop, head dropping back. This all feels too good.

It’s still not fire, though.

There’s no stakes.

You’re both single, and every decision you have made this evening turns out to have been inconsequential.

It’s... it’s almost boring.

But it’s good enough.

You just need a couple more seconds, you can feel it building already.

“We c-couldn’t be somethinhgh...” you choke on your words, unable to finish the sentence.

“Yes,” Joe insists, voice low and breathy, your bodies still moving in tandem. He then uses one hand takes hold of your face by your cheeks, tilting your head down so he can make eye-contact with you for a second.

“Yes we could.” He sounds hopeful as his eyes search yours. “Don’t you get it?”

But your eyes are glassy. They flutter and want to roll back.

Joe knows this look.

Know what this means.

And it’s not like Joe thinks his kind words will really fix anything, but, maybe they will, you know? Maybe. He’s glad he has said them anyway, even though you look like you haven’t even properly heard him.

“You close, baby?”

He switches gears.

“Yea? Come on.” He helps you move with strong arms that press you down a little more, and your arms scramble behind his back in your want to hold onto him tightly.

“There you go.” he coos into your ear, and, it’s not fire, but you come anyway.

Joe should have poured you a glass of wine.

Shouldn’t have brought up bad memories, shouldn’t have tried to be funny about it, and absolutely should have simply gone and poured you a glass.

You pretend that a glass of wine would’ve made a difference tonight.

The difference that you had hoped to find.

That would’ve lit the fire.

Deep down you know that’s not it, but still. The empty bottle is right there, watching you come down from your high, Joe still hard beneath you, and it’s easy to use that as the excuse.

You decide on the spot that Joe’s going to have to deal with what resides inside of his underwear by himself.

You’re done.

Sitting up, you look him in the eye for a short moment and softly but definitively say, “Should’ve poured me a glass.” and press a small kiss to his cheek which Joe gladly accepts.

Because he knows you’re right.

“Should’ve poured you a glass.”

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @cowboymcflurry

@demonsanddemogorgons, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevitalifestyle, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson

@emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @ferfan14, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby

@gri959, @hanahkatexo, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns

@keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @loves0phelia, @mandyjo8719

@mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr, @munsonssweets, @nadixq

@niallersfreckles, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @prettiestboyreid

@readergf, @royale1803, @skulliecadaver-blog, @sherrylyn0628, @shizlac

@solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle

@tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @witchwolflea, @xxladymjxx, @yunirgo

add yourself

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #joe quinn fanfiction #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn x you #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn x reader #rpf #almost always

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princessbrunette · 1 year ago

Note

rafe definitely would be the type to get his fwb pregnant, ghost her for a while, and then come back with his stupid shaved head and his hands in his pockets like ‘when’s the next appointment’. he has to take a little panic time to come around to the idea and remember that it takes two to make said child, and then the fear of being like his dad and neglecting his firstborn kicks in and he pops back up ready to sort shit out and attempt to be there to the best of his ability in his own way cause it’s still rafe and he’s not perfect ykwim. definitely could heal him though 🙏. Waddle around in those flowly little dresses cause they’re all that fit in the late stages but cause of the belly it makes them shorter than they already were and he’s a man starved.

GODDDDD this makes me go crazy😀

you’re by no means a pogue but your place is still just small enough to make rafe turn his nose up at it if you remember correctly, proving his disapproval of it when he shows up after a few months, a few shades tanner, buffer, with a buzzed head. he looked older, more mature— but the way he stood with his hands shoved into his pockets, staring unabashedly at the bump that had only just broken into vision, it was clear he was the same old rafe.

“so uh, y’know if it’s a boy or a girl yet?” he wanders, slowly pacing your kitchen whilst you brew him a coffee.

“no, rafe. i’m keeping it as a surprise.” your voice is quiet, untrusting. it makes him resist a sigh, scratching at his cheek with a look of discomfort. he just wants his girl back. he wants his family.

“right, right.” he nods, watching you for a moment. he supposes its true what they say about ‘pregnancy glow’ because you look fucking stunning. “baby, i’m really sorry.” he drawls and you flinch a little at the nickname. it’s been a while since you heard that. you turn to him, giving him a chance to explain himself.

“i freaked. i’m— i’m a fuckin’ coward and if you hate me, cool— alright i get it. but whether you like it or not, that’s my baby in there. and, and i’m gonna be apart of it’s life. just… let me take you out of here. we’ll start again. tanny hill’s all mine now, can set up a nice little baby room, paint it any colour you want, n’you can stay there too, with me—” he pauses, watching your unsure expression, not quite knowing how you feel about sharing the bed with rafe cameron once more. “…or sarah’s old room. up to you.” he adds reluctantly but gives you the option anyway. he does seem to really want this, and whilst you were mad he just up and left, leaving you to deal with the start of your pregnancy alone you could never resist him. you didn’t want your baby to grow up without a dad, not one bit.

“what’s wrong with my place?” you frown at your shabby little apartment your parents had set you up with.

“this place… tanny hill.” he holds his hands out mimicking a tipping scale, a cheeky smile growing on his face, voice still being gentle with you. that was the rafe you liked.

with his baby inside you, and the two of you spending all that time together, you didn’t stand a chance. you’d wondered how the two of you had ever commit to just being friends with benefits when it’s clear you had great deals of love for one another. he constantly doted on you, spoiling you and buying you whatever, if anything annoyed him he’d remove himself from the situation instead of getting mad like he used to, didn’t let you even walk anywhere alone despite telling rafe it was fine, jumping up to guide you with an arm around your waist once you got more swollen. he was treating you like you were made of glass, even showing reluctance to fucking you when you’d begged him, telling him how the pregnancy hormones were driving you mad and you missed his dick, the blue eyed man furrowing his brows in concern asking whether this could hurt the baby.

once he was passed the concern though, rafe couldn’t help sate his arousal almost every time you’d walk around in stretched out little nighties, swollen tits practically falling out of the top. he’d still be real gentle, don’t get it twisted— opting to grind his cock into you instead of thrusting like a madman remanent of your past with him. he’d stroke your clit with his thumb, your legs spread with his cock burrowed inside you, panting. “its true what they say, pregnant pussy is wetter. didn’t think you could get any better, baby.” he groans, your walls clamping down around him, crying out at his vulgarity.

“get used to this life, sweetheart, ‘cos i don’t think i’m ever gonna be able to stop fucking babies into you.”

#anon #babydaddy!rafe #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble

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kyyupidz · 1 year ago

Text

CUPID IS SO DUMB!! >:( (g/n reader x ace trappola) ★ ace trappola is familiar with romantic relationships, but actually factoring love into it is a whole different equation. love is boring. it ruins friendships, makes everything awkward, and is just plain annoying to deal with! it's better if he just ignore it all entirely. right? ★ slight angst/comfort. ENDLESS PINING. too much denial. ★ SIX THOUSAND WORDS. IVE BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR MONTHS. also as you can tell by the first sentence, there is a Lot of Cursing!!! y/n is the prefect in this fic However grim does not appear in this fic at all. Sorry grim lovers :(

ace trappola is in deep shit.

and that’s saying a lot, considering that he’s been in tricky situations before. possibly trickier than the one he’s in right now. sevens, he’s survived an overblot more than once, so compared to that, this shouldn’t even be that big of a deal.

and yet here he is. lying in his bed at 5 in the morning, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what went wrong. sevens know how many times he’s mentally traced over the small crack in the ceiling that’s somehow gone unnoticed by riddle, caused by deuce miscasting a spell which went just a bit too high.

...this is pathetic, he thinks to himself glumly. rolling over onto his side to get more comfortable, he tries distracting himself by any means necessary. reminding himself of that math test that’s coming up that he still hasn’t studied for, how to improve his basketball shots, new card tricks... and yet his mind keeps replaying that dumb moment in history class.

that stupid, absolutely aggravating moment in history class.

it really shouldn’t be that big of a deal. in fact, he recalls just how unimportant that class was up until the moment you so rudely interrupted and somehow made it important.

the memory plays in his head again, him mindlessly twirling his pen around, blankly staring out the window. the essay he was supposed to be writing laid unfinished in front of him, with only a few words lazily scribbled down. in stark contrast, deuce was very furiously writing down words at record pace, his brows furrowed in concentration.

in short, history class had been boring, as always. boring and normal and totally irrelevant to ace, until you had reached over with your red pen and crossed out the “your” on his paper and jotted under it “you’re.”

ace had let his jaw drop in betrayal, watched as your hand quickly shrunk away from view. but the damage was done. offended, ace turned towards you, ready to give you the worst stink-eye of your life.

“what’s the big deal?” he hissed out, before immediately trailing off and feeling the irritation dissipate into thin air.

oh, sevens, the way you were covering your mouth with your hand, trying (and failing) to muffle your laughter. your eyes were upturned, crinkling at the edges with mirth. and great seven, the sun was hitting you just right, highlighting all your features and ace just had to admit, you were really pretty.

ace groans with frustration as he recalls how effortlessly flawless you looked in that moment, so flawless you just had to make it his problem because you’re incapable of not being a pain.

thankfully, professor trein did one good thing in his life and told the both of you to get back to work, saving ace the embarrassment of having to deal with you and your stupid attractiveness. and while he’s slightly frustrated that he got into trouble, he’s even more frustrated that he has to deal with the fact that he may or may not be in love with his best friend.

he remembers kicking you under the desk after that, partly for correcting his spelling error, partly for making him feel butterflies in his stomach. he also had to write his 8-paragraph essay in the last 10 minutes of class, and perhaps he’s upset about that too. how dare you distract him from his studies in this way?!

but alas, ace isn’t as stupid as he makes himself out to be. he can make all the excuses he wants, but he can’t deny the truth. he definitely has feelings for you. he’s not someone to deny the obvious.

...the only problem is now what?

the last time ace was in a relationship was when he was in middle school. and he abhorred the whole thing. their date at the amusement park was more of a chore than anything, and she vetoed anything remotely fun. hell, ace wasn’t even sure if she knew what fun was. if that was how all relationships were going to be like, then ace would rather not be in one at all.

and in any case, he rationalizes, he doesn’t want to go through the hassle of being “serious” with you. he would rather die than play the role of a devoted, sappy, disgustingly cheesy lover who tells you how beautiful you are every day or something. he just doesn’t fit into the prince charming category! if anything, deuce would be a better contender for that role than he is.

and he couldn’t stand having your expectations for him rise higher than they already are. you expect him to do enough already, for sevens sake!

all in all, he’s just not the type of guy to commit to such a thing. he’s already told you once that he doesn’t have one romantic bone in his body, and that’s final. being all romantical and sweet just isn’t his thing.

...and suddenly he recalls your stupid face again, and maybe, just maybe, you’re worth all the trouble of being in love again.

ace slams his face into his pillow to try and block out his thoughts.

forget it, he thinks, face still buried in the pillow, you probably don’t even like him back anyway. no point in ruining a good thing, right?

ace trappola likes hanging out with you, and while he wouldn’t admit it to your face, he would very much like to continue hanging out with you. if he told you that he likes you, like, really likes you, then you’d probably stop talking to him. and, unfortunately, that would kind of hurt his feelings.

so obviously he should just suck it up and forget that he ever considered you beautiful. he should give up the idea of ever confessing to you.

...but what if he did and you said yes?

another groan of frustration slips through his mouth. great sevens, what is wrong with him?

he doesn’t know why it’s just now that he’s feeling like this. occasionally, he slept beside you when he crashed at your dorm, and he didn’t feel anything then. he’s held your hand once or twice, and his heart hadn’t raced then.

he mumbles incoherently into his pillow, why is he feeling like this?

and he had this all happen to him in history class? of all times to fall in love, why history class?! if he had to have some mind-boggling revelation that he was in love with you, he’d rather it be in some magical fantasy place where it feels special and not... underwhelmingly normal.

no, he thinks firmly, it doesn’t matter where it happened. he’s not going to let it change anything. you guys are friends, and nothing more.

the image of your face resurfaces again, and he fights the urge to punch himself.

when the sun rises and he’s forced to continue with the endless charade that is college life, ace trappola realizes he’s had approximately one and a half hours of sleep. it's not the worst thing ever, but to add insult to injury, his alarm didn’t wake him, and he woke up to riddle threatening to collar him if he didn’t wake up this instant.

so on top of having to think about what he’s going to do when he sees you again, he got yelled at by the housewarden. because of you.

just another reason why love is more trouble than it’s worth!

“did you stay up again?” deuce asks, interrupting ace’s thoughts, “you know it’s bad to stay up. us students need sleep to function throughout the day.”

“what? pssh. this student is functioning just fine, thank you,” ace scoffs out a little too quickly, “come on. you know i’ve got my full 8 hours.”

a beat of silence. ace grins nervously as deuce’s gaze falls on the painted heart located on ace’s left eye. it’s quite obviously the product of someone who was in a rush.

“are you... sure?” deuce says slowly, looking at ace skeptically.

“totally sure, man! when have i ever lied to you?”

“yesterday,” deuce sighs, shaking his head in exasperation, “whatever. just don’t come to me if your lack of rest comes back to bite you.”

ace breathes out in relief. while he knows he just spit out the flimsiest excuses known to twisted wonderland, he’s just glad deuce didn’t push it further. sevens knows how he was going to get himself out of that situation if he did. now, just to somehow avoid you for the rest of the day and...

“good morning!” you yell out brightly, slowing to a stop behind them and flinging your arms across both of their shoulders.

great.

“prefect!” deuce greets back, turning to face your sunny grin with a small smile, “good morning. you seem awfully chipper today.”

ace watches as your grin grows, and he thinks, oh he is so doomed.

what’s with you and your dumb smiles? he fumes to himself quietly, why do you have to smile so damn much? and why do you always have to be smiling around him? can’t you go smile somewhere else, where he can’t see you- wait no, he still wants you to be around, he means-

“oh, deuce spade, let me tell you!” you sigh wistfully, letting your arms drop from the two heartslabyul students’ shoulders, “i heard through the grapevine we’re finally doing another hands-on alchemy assignment, and you know what that means, right? i finally get to do something actually magical!”

wow. you’re practically glowing, ace thinks, and he kind of wishes you weren’t. not that he’s wishing on your downfall or anything, but you’re distracting him, dammit! he likes to be able to use his critical thinking skills, thank you!

“really? that’s great,” deuce says, “i just hope i don’t have to do any remedial classes this time... that always seems to happen to me. alchemy's just not my strong suit, i suppose.”

“nothing’s your strong suit, man,” ace sighs, hoping to the great seven his ears aren’t red, “except maybe throwing around cauldrons. not to worry deucey, i’m an expert at alchemy! i’ll help you out, no problem.”

deuce glares at him, entirely unamused. in contrast, you seem very amused, still warm smiles and cheery laughter. it takes all of ace’s willpower to keep his cool and triumphantly smirk at deuce’s expression, pretending like he’s not about to combust if you so much as say one word toward him.

we’re just friends, he reminds himself, don’t let this affect you any more than it should. continue pretending you’re unaffected and totally, 100 percent normal. you may be in love with your best friend, but who cares? it’s not that big of a deal. you can do this. you’re not going to let love ruin a perfectly good friendship.

“in any case,” you hum, snapping him back to reality (the reality where he has to admit that you are extremely attractive), “i’m just excited to do anything remotely magic related that isn’t just writing essays about how the magic pen changed the course of history or whatever. let’s hope we don’t have to do any remedial classes!”

“like i’d be caught dead in one of those,” ace retorts, “not sure about deuce, though.”

“you just watch!” deuce huffs, “it’ll be different this time around, you’ll see!”

ace grins, watching you out of his peripheral.

see, he thinks, he’s perfectly fine, see how he can still joke around with his best buds? absolutely zero need for anything romantic. we can stay friends. we’re better off friends, even. he’s not letting any romantic attraction ruin the friendship he has with you.

it’s better this way, he thinks resolutely, isn’t it?

ace is even more sure that love ruins everything after the disaster that was alchemy class.

to his absolutely horrible luck (or great, depending on who you ask. ace still thinks it’s horrible luck, though), he just had to be paired with you. professor crewel must have something against him for being too great of a student or something to wrong him in this way!

this is fine, he tells himself as he watches you gather materials for the potion with that same stupid smile still plastered all over your face. it hasn’t disappeared since this morning, and it’s really getting on ace’s nerves. how is he supposed to focus if you’re smiling like that, huh?!

again, he’d never pray on your downfall, but great sevens, show him some mercy. he’s already in deep, and you just seem hellbent on pushing him down even further.

“okay,” you say, excitement evident in your tone as you snap on your gloves, “first, the grounded-up wings of an aurora moth, then the entire bottle of mermaid tears, and finally the cap of an amanita verna. mix until it turns white, and then we tell professor crewel we’re done. easy stuff, right?”

you turn towards ace, who’s thoughts seem to cloud his ability to listen to anything anyone is telling him. you snap your fingers in front of his face, and he jolts.

“hello? twisted wonderland to ace?” you huff, “are you even listening? come on, half the class is already getting to work. don’t drag down my alchemy grade, please.”

ace grins clumsily at you as he readjusts his position.

“if anything, you’d be the one dragging my grade down,” he quips back, praying to the seven that sounded natural, “just sit back and relax, i’ve totally got this. what’s first, mermaid tears, right?”

he picks up the bottle of mermaid tears, popping off the cap and getting ready to tip the contents into the cauldron.

...until you suddenly reach out and grab his wrist.

ace feels his mind blank.

you’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine, everything’s fine, everything’s fine...

“you really weren’t listening, were you?” you scold him, totally oblivious to the raging thunderstorm that is occupying ace’s head, “the wings first, dumbass.”

it wasn’t even skin-to-skin contact, and yet you’ve still got him absolute putty in your hands, ace thinks, what the hell is wrong with him? no, what the hell is wrong with you? why are you doing this to him?!

“of... of course i knew that!” ace sputters, placing the mermaid tears back onto the table. his hands aren’t shaking, right? they definitely aren’t?

“i was just messing with you, you hear me?” he continues rambling on, sevens, he’s a wreck, “i was totally listening. mhm. that’s right. i would never make such an amateur mistake.”

“right. whatever you say,” you tease, rolling your eyes in amusement, “the aurora moth wings, please.”

“you think so little of me sometimes,” ace grumbles, face feeling a little too hot for his liking. he reaches for the small vial of powder next to the mermaid tears, before dumping it into the cauldron.

“see?” he huffs, “everything’s fine. nothing’s going wrong. i mean, how could it when you have the great ace trappola on your side, huh?”

you make a ‘pfft’ sound, your smile widening as your eyes crinkle at the edges, and great sevens ace has never heard a more beautiful sound in his life. immediately, his eyes flick down towards the cauldron so that he can save whatever bit of dignity he has left.

everything’s fine, everything’s fine, everything’s fine, he repeats to himself mentally, just make it to the end of this period, and everything’s gonna be okay. you will not let love win. you are better than this, ace trappola! you can do this!

“okay!” ace says hastily, in a desperate attempt to minimize the amount of time he has to spend with you, to hurry this class up so you don’t see how red his face is, “what’s next? the mushroom cap? in it goes!”

“wait- no, ace!-”

the cauldron explodes.

to say professor crewel was mad is an understatement. no, professor crewel was pissed.

“you pups should know better than to just throw things in willy-nilly!” he shouts, “it seems you mutts just never get tired of being disciplined, huh? remake the potion by the end of the day, understand?”

and so now ace has to be stuck with you and your aggravating, totally annoying and frustratingly pretty face. he’s starting to think he angered a deity in a past life and this is his retribution.

“you’re an idiot,” you tell him as you reach up on a shelf to grab a new bottle of mermaid tears, “i told you not to drag down my alchemy grade!”

“hey, i already know riddle’s gonna be all on my case after this,” he quips back sharply, glaring at the back of your head, “i don’t need you mad at me too! listen, we’ll just do this potion over and then everything’s gonna be a-okay. let’s not get upset, yeah?”

“you’re just trying to deflect your guilt,” you sigh, placing the vial onto the table, “don’t mess it up this time, okay? i don’t want to find out what professor crewel will do if he finds out we exploded another cauldron.”

“listen, it was a one time thing! a one time thing, you hear me?” he insists, watching you as you pop open the bottle of ground aurora moth wings, “i won’t do it again, promise.”

“uh-huh,” you say, entirely unconvinced. you mix the powder into the water-filled cauldron, watching as it dissolves. eventually, you both fall into a comfortable silence, with ace simply examining your features as you focus on making the potion. occasionally, you ask him to pass you something, but otherwise he’s left to just stare at you.

your brows are furrowed, knit together in concentration, and normally ace would think you look silly so focused. eventually, he’d probably find a way to ditch, and then laugh at your exasperated expression when you somehow manage to find him. and yet here he is, willingly staying in a remedial class because you are the most ethereal thing he’s ever seen in his entire 16 years of living.

at the same time, he also thinks you’re the most troublesome lump of flesh he’s ever encountered.

people make love out to be this great, totally stupendous thing, and yet all it has done for ace is ruin his life. it’s gotten him with barely any sleep, in trouble with his housewarden, in trouble with his teacher, and most importantly, it’s gotten him a hurt ego.

and yet, ace almost wants to think that all of it is worth it if he manages to get a laugh out of you in the end. maybe all this trouble would be worth it if he manages to stay with you.

he’s being stupid, he thinks to himself, he’s being delusional, even. love is doing nothing but ruining his life. he can’t fall into its whims like this! he isn’t going to fall for that trap again, no sir.

“ace, look!” you say excitedly, snapping him out of his trance. the liquid inside the cauldron has turned a milky white, and while ace wants to tell you good job, he can’t.

you’re grinning at him, waiting for him to say something. the sight is comical, you look like a puppy waiting for approval from its owner. it’s almost endearing. it may be too endearing.

ace trappola realizes for the one-hundredth time that he is wholly and entirely enamored with you.

okay, just tell them good job. tell them something witty, something funny. tell them you’re surprised they managed to do that all on their own. don’t say anything you’re gonna regret, don’t say anything you’re gonna regret-

“i’m in love with you,” ace blurts out.

fuck.

you gape at him, the grin on your face replaced with a dropped jaw. a heavy silence falls between you, only interrupted by the quiet bubbling of the potion in the cauldron. you continue staring at him like he’s grown three heads. he stares back.

fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“kidding, i’m- pfft- did you fall for it?” ace adds-on quickly, laughing to fill the overwhelming silence that threatens to swallow him alive, “prefect, i thought you were smarter than that.”

you don’t respond. ace swallows, his smile starting to become strained. sevens, he’s really fucked up now.

“i think i might love you too,” you say back softly.

what the fuck.

now it’s ace’s turn to stare at you, eyes wide open. he knows this should be all that he wants. or at least, according to the occasional, cringey romance movies he’s watched, he should be the happiest man in the world right now.

but all he feels is conflicted.

your face falls slightly at his silence, and his stomach twists. there’s a burning feeling in his chest, everything in him is screaming at him to say something. anything. does he keep the charade up? does he cheer and celebrate? does he sigh with relief? does he vomit?

everything he’s told himself up until this moment, every denial that he used to push himself away from his feelings is crumbling at his feet, his walls that he so carefully built around his heart are falling away faster than he can repair them. he wants to be with you more than anything, and yet what if everything goes wrong? what if he messes it all up?

the silence is deafening. what does he even say in this scenario? the scenario that he’s been trying to avoid the entire day?

the solution comes to him suddenly, and he stands up abruptly. he decides to do what he does best, a magic trick.

one where he hits the ground running and sprints as far away as he possibly can.

you think you just got rejected.

after ace unceremoniously left you at the cauldron with the potion still brewing away, yet to be poured into a glass bottle, you felt yourself at a loss of what to do. with every step you felt like the ground was threatening to swallow you whole.

who the hell bolts for the door after they tell you they reciprocate your feelings?

somehow, you had managed to turn in the potion to professor crewel. when asked where ace was and why he hadn’t turned it in with you, you had frozen up like a deer in headlights.

“he’s... uh, picking up drinks for the both of us,” you sputter out hastily, “you know, for a job well done! we didn’t blow up the cauldron this time, so, you know, this is a cause for celebration, haha!...”

crewel eyes you suspiciously, and you try to stop the obviously strained smile on your face from falling and opening the gates to an ocean’s worth of emotions you’re not sure you’re prepared for.

eventually crewel sighs, eyes fluttering shut as he rubs his forehead in exasperation.

“i hope you aren’t covering up for that pup,” he mutters, “in any case, the potion seems to be of good quality and seems to be actually properly crafted this time, so fine. i’ll accept it. next time though, if you dare blow up my cauldrons again, i won’t treat you both so leniently. understand?”

“i understand,” you respond a little louder than necessary, nodding your head slightly in affirmation before high tailing it out of there.

now what?

do you run back to your dorm crying? do you weep helplessly at the foot of your bed as the ghosts of ramshackle try their best to comfort you? do you indulge in ice cream and eat your sorrows away? do you call a friend to vent all your frustrations? do you simply go on with your day and pretend like it never happened?

or do you chase after him, demanding an explanation?

screw it, you think, what do you have to lose? he’s already technically rejected you, might as well track him down and force him to give you verbal proof to break your heart even more. and besides, even if he does tell you he doesn’t feel the same, you can just say you were playing along with his joke. the joke that is currently the cause of all your problems right now.

you take out your phone, pulling up the text messages between you and ace. the last few messages you sent to him was only a few hours ago, sending him the answers to the math test you had today.

your fingers hover over the keys uncertainly, staring at the last message you sent. maybe texting him would seem desperate. maybe you should just let him come to you first.

you sigh, shoulders slumping as you consider your options. what do you even say anyway? that you’re sorry? that it was a joke, and you didn’t mean it? or that you meant what you said with your entire heart, and you really want him to affirm that he likes you too instead of passing it off as a joke?

well, what’s the worst he could say over text? you think to yourself, having someone run away when you tell them you like them stings a thousand times more than any insult. might as well just do it, right?

you slowly type out your message, overthinking every letter and erasing the whole thing more times than you’d like to admit.

“i’m sorry,” your message reads when you finish, “didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything. can we at least talk it over? i turned in our potions btw.”

you wait a few seconds before a small ‘read’ appears from under the message.

you wait a little longer before realizing that is all the response you will get.

as it turns out, there is something that can hurt more than having someone run away when you tell them you like them.

your friendship with ace trappola is totally wrecked. you’re never going to be the same around him ever again.

the phrase repeats itself over and over in your head, unrelenting and ruthless. it drives the knife further into your heart, twisting it until you feel like you can barely breathe.

you don’t know how you managed to drag yourself throughout campus, scouring the academy for any sign that ace has been around. maybe the fact that he left you on read should be evidence that he doesn’t want to talk to you, but you want, no, need answers. your pride, dignity, and feelings be damned. you just need one verbal response that he doesn’t want you around, and then you’ll leave him alone.

it’s only a shame that ace trappola is much better at hiding than you originally thought.

you visited heartslabyul first, and unsurprisingly, he wasn’t there. you asked riddle if he had been around, only for him to say he hasn’t seen him since classes ended. deuce said the same thing, saying that he thought ace had been with you this entire time.

“has something happened, prefect?” deuce asks you, and you’re not sure how to tell him that you’ve been trying not to scream for the last hour. so you tell him that he ran away from his remedial class, and that you’re now looking for him.

“need any help?” deuce offers, helpful as ever, “i can put him in his place- ahem... teach him a lesson he won’t forget.”

“no, thank you,” you respond quickly, “thanks for the offer though.”

you checked the cafeteria next, to which all the ghosts residing there said that they saw him sprint past them towards an empty classroom. but when you had gone to the classroom, the place was all but deserted. a painting of a man in a very fashionable suit eyes you as you visibly slump in defeat.

“looking for something?” he asks, and you flinch in shock. after all your years in night raven, you still haven’t gotten used to the paintings talking to you.

“ah... yeah,” you say quietly, staring back at his oil-paint eyes, “a heartslabyul freshman about this tall, fluffy red hair that looks like it’s never seen a hairbrush, red heart on the left eye. have you seen him?”

the painting hums in contemplation, a streaky hand coming up to rub his chin slowly.

“i may have seen him, i may have not,” he says eventually, “what do i get in return for telling you?”

damn these paintings and their conniving nature, you think, why can’t anybody in this academy do a good thing solely for doing good?

what can you even offer a painting anyway? it’s not like they need money, material possessions are kind of useless when you’re affixed to a wall and can’t touch anything out of the frame you reside in.

“...a new paintjob?” you offer, “i can hire an artist to paint you a new suit.”

“the nerve!” the painting gasps loudly, “are you calling me aged and unpleasing to the eye? you disrespectful humans with no sense of-”

“i’m sorry,” you say quickly, cutting him off. sevens, you don’t have the time for this, “that’s not what i meant. you’re a very... handsome painting, i promise.”

“hmph,” the man huffs, “apology accepted, i suppose. i’ll tell you where the boy went if you put in a good word for me to the painting in the classroom over. she’s painted with watercolors, and she has the most beautiful raven-like hair i’ve ever seen-”

“put in a nice word to the watercolor painting,” you interrupt again, exasperated, “got it. now where did he go?”

the painting grumbles at your interjection, but points you towards the courtyard. you express your thanks and bolt out the door of the classroom.

“and remember to tell her that i have the most magnificent color palette she’ll ever see!” the painting yells as you sprint away. you make a mental note to get somebody else to do it.

you skid to a stop as you arrive at the courtyard, looking around for any sign of a 16-year-old, 172-centimeter, red-haired heartslabyul student.

“ace trappola!” you call out, continuing your search, “come on, don’t avoid me!”

unsurprisingly, but just as disappointingly, there’s no response. you groan and sit on a bench near the apple tree. only to hear a squeak from behind you.

you turn, and there he is, ace trappola, trying to hide behind the large apple tree that shades you.

how did you not notice him?

“ace,” you whisper, “uhm. hi?”

silence. and then, ace begins to scramble to get out of position and run as far away as he possibly can once more.

“hey!” you yell, running into motion after him. sevens, you think, he’s fast. guess he’s not on the basketball team for nothing.

thankfully, to your relief and his horror, you manage to catch up and grab onto his arm. he stumbles backwards before slowly turning to look at you.

he’s breathing heavily, and the moment he makes eye contact with you, he looks away. he chews on his bottom lip nervously, fists clenching at his side.

“why are you running away from me?” you ask, breathing heavily from all the running, “just- tell me what’s going on and i’ll leave you alone. do you not want to be friends anymore or something-”

“i do!” he says suddenly, and he winces before adding on, “i still want to be friends. i’ve just... i just have to think.”

there’s a beat of silence, and suddenly the questions you prepared for when you found him slip from your mind. ace still doesn’t look at you, and you feel your resolve start to crumble.

“...do you not like me the same way?” you say slowly, letting go of his arm, “i get it. i can take rejection. i’m not afraid of honesty.”

“no, that’s not...” ace groans, running his hand through his hair with frustration, “i do like you. i like you a lot.”

there’s a thread of hope that you don’t dare to follow, but your heart still leaps at his words of sincerity.

“so why did you run?” you ask.

“i don’t know,” ace says, desperation starting to show on his face. “i just... i’m scared.”

“scared of what?” you probe, exasperation mounting, “are you ashamed of me? do you not want to be with someone magicless, is that it, ace trappola?”

“no, no!” he exclaims, “i’d never be ashamed of you, i mean, i’ve poked fun at you a few times for being magicless but- come on, you know i don’t actually mean it!”

“then what is it?” you almost beg, “what are you so afraid of?”

“everything!” he blurts out, the tips of his ears going red, “i’m scared that we won’t be enough, no- i'm scared i won’t be enough. i’m scared of not treating you right, i’m scared that we won’t work out, i’m scared that i don’t love you enough to make everything turn out okay. i’m scared that i can’t give you what you want, and you’ll realize just how much of a screw-up i am, and then i lose this. i lose us.”

ace takes in a deep breath, voice shaky. he looks up at you, eyes frantic. desperate.

“i don’t want to lose us,” he murmurs, “you’re... you know. who’s going to bail me out of detention if i lose you?”

you blink at him, once, twice... before bursting out into a fit of laughter. and tears. you double over, hiding your expression away from ace’s view.

“woah- woah! don’t cry, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it,” ace says hurriedly, “we’re cool, right? we can forget all of this ever happened, it was my bad, don’t cry-”

“you fucking idiot,” you yell at him, hitting his shoulder with your fist. he winces, but you keep talking. “you absolute dumbass. you made me run across this stupid college and you’re worried you won’t be enough? goddammit, trappola, i love you. i am in love. with you.”

you breathe out. you look up to meet ace’s shocked expression.

“no, trappola, we are not cool,” you say, “not at all. my legs hurt from running, and i made up an excuse for why you weren’t there when i turned in the potion, and i owe a painting a debt for telling me your location. if you think we’re cool, then you’re dead wrong.”

“...oh,” he responds back dumbly, “sorry?- wait, no, i didn’t ask for you to chase after me!”

“but i did!” you quip back loudly, “you know why? because i have the biggest, fattest crush on you. and hell yeah, you’re a screw-up, but i’m still in love with you. maybe i even love you because you’re a screw-up. who the hell knows at this point? ace trappola, i’m rejecting your rejection! try again!”

“what- you can’t reject a rejection!”

“i so can!”

ace blows out a frustrated breath, but there’s amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“i’m rejecting you because you’re really annoying. also, you snore when you sleep.”

“i do not!”

“you so do!”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. you miss the way ace smiles fondly at you.

“...sorry for running,” he murmurs, “dumb decision in retrospect. can i try again?”

“try what again?” you ask. now it’s ace’s turn to laugh at you.

“my confession.”

“oh,” you say. you nod. he takes your hand in his.

“i really, really like you. more than a friend,” he whispers, trying and failing to look you in the eye, “and it sucks because you’re an idiot and annoying and you get on my nerves sometimes-”

“hey!”

“shh! but, you know, i guess i like how annoying you are. disgusting, i know. and just to let you know, i’m not going to buy you roses every other thursday with a handwritten card in cursive-”

“you can’t even write in cursive.”

“i can! just- shh! i’m not gonna get down on one knee and promise to be someone i’m not. but i really do mean it when i say i love you, and your stupid smiles, and the way you think about me even when you’re mad at me, and i think i’d probably jump in front of a bullet train for you- and sevens, i hate how you’ve made me so cheesy, but seven be damned if i didn’t mean everything i’m saying right now with my entire heart.”

“so- uh,” ace trails off, embarrassment tinting his face red, “yeah. i like you. can we, uh, kiss and make up?”

a silence passes between you. ace rubs his thumb against your knuckles subconsciously, and it’s only then do you break out into a grin.

“not sure about the make up part,” you say, cupping his face with your hands, “but the kiss part? i can do.”

yeah, you think as your lips collide with ace’s, you’re still in love with ace trappola even after he made you take a remedial class and almost made you cry in said remedial class. you’re still in love even after he made you run like your life depended on it. you’re still in love even after he made you have a mini heart-attack.

you feel ace smile against your lips, his arms snaking around your waist, and you think,

yeah. you’re still in love with him.

note: sorry for disappearing i was on tumblr but i actively ignored by tumblr acc :3 whoopsies! apologies if this fic came off weird or has typos OR uses dashes/commas/ITALICS... I THINK I ABUSED MY ITALIC PRIVELEGES.../literally any grammar incorrectly i literally gave up by the end because it was getting too long and i wanted this off my hands IMMEDIATELY!!!! there are only so many times you can proofread a 6k word fic.... (two times) i love love love the idea of pathetic ace tho like that man is NOT!!! the cool guy i see him as!!! bro is a freshman!!!!!!!!! bro is a 16 year old!!!!!!!!!!!! so here he is. pathetic ace in all his glory. i hope i did him justice ^^;; ty for reading this far if u did! <3

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bloatedandalone04 · 3 months ago

Text

Bets & Bargains - Part 13

Series Masterlist

➪in which you go to bradley’s party and instantly regret it, but he manages to get you to talk to him long enough to tell you what really happened between him and briana.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 4.9k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Fratley ❤️❤️: Hey, I know you don’t want to talk to me right now, and that’s fine, I get it. I just wanted to let you know that I’m having a party tomorrow night and I’d love for you to come. I promise I won’t annoy you or try to get you to talk to me. I just wanted to invite you. Maybe it will be even better than the last one, but not likely since that’s when I met you. Anyway, I hope you can come. I’m sorry.

You were debating on whether or not to go to the party at Bradley’s place.

You really had no reason to, but for some reason you kind of wanted to. It had been a few hours since you stopped crying, and instead of feeling sad, you were now feeling rather pissed off. You wanted to go to the stupid party and yell at Bradley for making you feel so good about yourself, then hurting you so fucking bad.

Maybe that’s exactly what you’ll do.

You were laying on your bed on Tuesday evening, rereading Bradley’s text over and over again, but you have yet to respond. You decided that you weren’t going to, because he didn’t deserve a reply.

Swiping off his contact (after looking at his stupidly cute picture for a few more seconds), you were about to switch to another app when your thumb hovered over a different contact. One you never planned on reaching out to ever again.

You clicked it and read the last text she sent, and you pressed your lips together as a feeling of embarrassment washed over you.

Sammy: You’re so immature, walking away like that yesterday. I really thought that you would’ve realized by now how wrong you were for what happened with Luke and now with this Bradley guy. You ruined any chance with Luke, Y/n. And for what? A hookup with a hot guy? Fucking crazy.

Instead of feeling more and more worked up, you just leaned back on your bed, your thumb hovering over the red button that would ensure that Sam would only get to talk to you face to face. You’d already blocked Luke, with the help of Bradley’s encouragement, and you felt better after you did that. You’d probably feel great if you were to add his sister to your blocked list too.

You didn’t know how long you had been sprawled out on your bed for, but it was nearing nine when you finally pulled yourself together and threw on a simple outfit; jeans and your floral crop top.

Since you weren’t planning on staying long, you didn’t bother with putting on anymore makeup, instead leaving on the natural look you wore to your class earlier.

As you stepped out of your room, you passed by Sam’s door and felt a wave of anger wash over at how fake of a friend she’s been this whole time. Was she ever really your friend? Or was she just pretending for her brother’s sake? Whatever it was, it left you in a bad mood, and you decided to focus that energy onto what you were going to say to Bradley.

Technically, he was still your boyfriend. You never broke up with him, you just asked for space, but as soon as you see him tonight, you’d break it off. You knew your worth now, and sadly it was mainly because of Bradley since he was so sweet to you about your confidence issues you got from being with Luke, but still. It was kind of all his fault.

Since Bradley’s frat house was right across the campus from your dorm, you made it to the bricked structure in less than ten minutes. You were sure if you looked hard enough, you could see the walls literally shaking from how loud the music was inside, and you were now a bit hesitant, because you had just gotten rid of your headache from all the crying, and you did not need another.

But, you wouldn’t be here for long, so you just took a breath and walked into the house you had a stupid amount of fondness for, even now.

Inside looked as packed, maybe even more so, as it did the first time you ever stepped foot in the house. Almost instantly, you felt uncomfortable and overwhelmed, and you crossed your arms in a form of self-protection as you maneuvered your way through the crowd.

Instinctively, you were already looking for Bradley, for comfort or confrontation, you weren’t entirely sure at this point.

The smell of booze and smoke filled your nose as you found yourself in the dining room that was slightly less crowded than the rest of the house, and you pressed yourself against the wall as you sighed.

What were you doing here? This was dumb and you were out of your comfort zone right now, but you just wanted…what, closure? Is that what you wanted? Is that why you were standing in your soon to be ex boyfriend’s dining room?

No. No, you were here to tell him how fucking stupid he was for throwing what you and he were building away, and how pissed you were at him for making you believe he was different from every single fuckboy to ever exist.

But, the second you turned your head to the right and saw his pretty brown eyes staring back at you, everything you had planned to say to him left your mind, and your body heated up in the way it always did whenever you saw him.

Suddenly you had no fucking clue what to say to him, so you just kept your mouth shut and turned to face him as he began walking towards you.

Bradley hoped you would come tonight.

After fucking it up with you, he was desperate to make things right. How? He had no idea. You were under the impression that he slept with Briana, but you ran out before he could explain, or even come up with a way to explain that it wasn’t what it looked like at all.

You never actually answered his text that invited you to this party, but he knew that you read it, and he hoped that he would be able to find you eventually, because you were the only good thing in his life right now. He missed you, even though it had only been a day.

Bradley wandered around his packed house completely sober, a red cup full of beer held loosely in his hand as he subtly looked for you, hoping to anyone listening that you did come, and that he could hopefully get you to talk to him.

When he walked into the dining room, he spotted you almost instantly, tucked away in the very corner he met you in. His heart leaped a bit as your eyes met his, and you looked so small and vulnerable, Bradley felt terrible for putting you through this, but he couldn’t deny how fucking and relieved he was that you showed up.

He could tell that you had already put walls up around you as he made his way through the crowd, and he hated it. “Hey,” he said softly, and he wasn’t sure you even heard him over the loud music, but it didn’t matter. You were here. “I’m so sorry, babes.”

He knew he told you that he wouldn’t try to get you to talk to him, but how could he not? He knew he was losing you, and he had to at least try to stop it.

“Can we…can we go somewhere private? Or quiet at least?” He nearly begged as you crossed your arms and huffed. “Please? I’ll let you yell at me for as long as you want, but only after I explain things to you. Properly.”

“Why? So I can watch you cheat on me again?” You muttered, looking up at him with guarded eyes, and Bradley fucking hated it, because you had never looked at him like that since he met you. “I thought you said you wouldn’t bother me, Bradley.”

He furrowed his brows, knowing that he needed to be extra careful with his words right now because you clearly didn’t trust him at the moment, and he needed to change that. “No, baby, that’s not what I meant at all. I promise you, I would never cheat on you, let alone with Briana. What you saw is just a big misunderstanding, I swear,” he murmured, his voice genuine and sincere. “I want to talk, just the two of us, please? I don’t want to lose you, Y/n. I don’t want to lose us.”

You looked away when he placed one hand on the wall next to your head, your voice barely heard over the loud music. “A misunderstanding? She was in your bed, Bradley, I-” you cut yourself off with another huff. “I don’t see how that can be a misunderstanding.”

Because you’re not letting me explain, he wanted to say but was afraid it’d just make things worse.

Bradley closed his eyes, collecting himself for a few seconds before opening them again, and he was starting to sound a bit desperate. “I get that it looks bad, but I swear, I promise you that nothing happened. Briana passed out in my bed and I slept on the couch. That’s it,” he said, feeling a headache forming from both the loud thumping and from how terribly this was going. “I know I messed up by not explaining it to you better or sooner, but I’m telling you right here and right now that I did not cheat on you.”

You looked at him with a conflicted expression on your pretty face, and he had a flicker of hope that maybe, maybe, he could convince you to let him explain it better than that.

“Please, Y/n,” he mumbled as he leaned in closer. “Let’s go somewhere and talk properly. I need you to understand.”

“Bradley,” you trailed off, and he felt his heart fall. But then you sighed and nodded. “Okay. Fine.”

He perked up at that and it only took him a few seconds to process your words before he was giving you a grateful smile and gesturing for you to follow him. “Let’s go to my room where it’s quiet, and if you still want to leave after I explain everything…then at least you’ll know the truth,”

When he started walking after handing his untouched cup off to a random person, you thankfully went with him and followed him up to his room. His door didn’t block out all the sound, but it did muffle quite a bit of the loud music, leaving only a faint thumping.

Bradley closed the door behind you and moved to sit on the edge of his bed, but you stayed by his desk instead of sitting next to him, which he understood. Still, you had never been this closed off with him before, and he hated it. “I’m sorry for making you doubt me. That’s the last thing I wanted to do, okay?” He started, but you were barely looking at him, and he didn’t know how to fix this. “Babes…come here, please?”

When he called you by your nickname, you quickly looked over at him and crossed your arms, a conflicted look on your face before you gave in. You sighed and moved to sit next to him, but not nearly as close as you usually do.

He ran his hands over his face, because the distance between you and him wasn’t even just physical at this point, but emotional too. “Briana called me Sunday night a few hours after you left, and she was going on and on about all this random shit, and I was two seconds away from hanging up on her and blocking her number, then she started talking about a guy that wouldn’t leave her alone, and I didn’t know what to do,” he said, putting it out there right at the start that he had no intention of ever letting Briana back in his bed. “She sounded drunk and like she was on something, so I picked her up from this party across town and brought her back here so she could crash on the couch and leave in the morning, but she went up to my room and passed out on my bed before I could get her back downstairs.”

Your gaze softened just a bit as you processed his words, your brows coming together as you looked away, and he had a small feeling of hope that maybe he was getting somewhere, so he continued before you could say anything.

“I slept on the couch and went to wake her up to get her to leave, and I thought she did when I was getting ready for class in my bathroom, and that’s when you came in and saw her in my bed,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck that still kind of hurt from sleeping on the couch with no pillow. “You should’ve never seen that, and it should’ve never happened, but I didn’t want anything bad to happen to her at that party.”

You looked back at him and slumped your shoulders. “Why did she call you?”

Bradley let out a humorless laugh, shrugging. “Because she misses fucking me and thinks that I’d throw away what you and I have for a forgettable night with her, which didn’t happen and will never happen,” he answered. “I know I should’ve pushed harder to get her out of here sooner, but I was exhausted and annoyed, and I didn’t even want to be near her, let alone talk to her. You have to believe me, Y/n. Nothing happened between Briana and I.”

He watched your eyes soften even more before tears gathered along your waterline, and you looked down at his bed. “Bradley, I feel so embarrassed about everything…walking in here and seeing her in your bed, in this bed, it just brought everything back. I feel like I’m not good enough or that I don’t give you enough,” you whispered and Bradley narrowed his eyes, but you continued, “Nothing happened? Nothing at all?”

“Nothing at all,” he confirmed quickly, moving a bit closer to you. “And you’re more than enough for me. Everything about you is more than enough. You make me a better person just by being in my life.”

The look you gave him was one he’d seen many times before, your eyes no longer guarded and distant. “Really?” You mumbled, reaching up to gently caress his jaw, and he nearly groaned in relief.

“Really, baby,” Bradley whispered, leaning into your touch. “There’s nobody else I want, only you. Tell me what I can do to prove it to you.”

You shake your head and give him a small, shy smile. “There’s nothing to prove, Bradley,” you murmured, waiting a few seconds before letting out a sigh. “So…you don’t want to get back with Briana? And you and I…you don’t think we’re rushing this? We’re okay?”

The thought of ever going back to Briana made Bradley’s whole body cringe, and he shook his head. “With Briana and I…there’s nothing left between her and I but bad memories and regret. No, I don’t want to get back with her. Why would I? I have you right here,” he reached up and stroked your bottom lip with his thumb. “And no, I don’t think we’re rushing anything. I feel like I’ve known you for years, that’s how much you’ve impacted my life already.”

You nodded slowly, then gave him a guilty look. “I’m sorry that I said I wasn’t over Luke,” you whispered, moving towards him and settling down on his lap. “I swear, I’m over him. He doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. He was just my first boyfriend, that’s all.”

Bradley smiled, because he didn’t believe for a second that you weren’t over that asshole, you were just saying that in the moment. “It’s okay,” he mumbled, pressing his lips to the side of your head as his hands gripped your waist, holding you firmly against his chest. “I know you’re over him, and I’m over Briana. I’m all in with you, alright? Just because you had some doubts for a bit doesn’t change anything between us.”

Thinking about it, Bradley probably would’ve lost his mind if he walked in and saw Luke in your bed, and there’s no telling what he would’ve done once the initial shock wore off, so he didn’t blame you for a single second for reacting the way you did. He trusted you, and he wanted you to keep trusting him.

“Okay,” you said quietly, “I didn’t want to doubt you, Bradley. And I’m sorry I did, I should’ve listened a lot better.”

Bradley grabbed your hand and laced your fingers together, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “It’s okay, baby,” he rasped, “Let’s forget about Luke and Briana, alright? They don’t matter anymore. Only we do, right here and right now. Can we move past this and just start fresh?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips, and Bradley couldn’t believe how much he had missed this feeling in so little time. “Let’s take it slow tonight? Just…stay in here with me.”

Bradley grinned and nodded, resting his forehead against yours. “Sounds perfect,” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss you again as he cradled your face. “Just you and me.”

There was no way he’d go back to the party, not when he had you back in his room and on his lap after being convinced that he’d fucked things up with you beyond repair.

“You and me. We’ll keep it PG tonight, okay? But tomorrow…” you trailed off with a teasing smile before you looked down at your jeans and your pretty crop top he’s seen you wear a few times now. You always managed to look so stunning every time he saw you. “Got anything more comfortable for me to wear?”

Bradley hummed and nodded, giving your hips a firm squeeze before setting you beside him on his bed. “Actually, yeah,” he answered, walking over to his school bag and pulling out the UVA hoodie he had bought this morning after class. “How’s this?” He asked with a grin as he held it out to you.

“You have one?” You asked in shock, taking the brand new hoodie from him with wide eyes.

“I do now,” he answered, crossing his arms as he leaned back against his desk. “Though, I’ll probably never get that back now, huh?”

You shook your head as you tugged off your shirt and pulled the hoodie on, and Bradley bit his lip. It was big on you and it fell to your mid thigh, and you looked really fucking hot in it.

He couldn’t believe he had managed to save his relationship with you.

“You’re never getting this back,” you confirmed, standing up and shrugging off your jeans before stepping towards him. You reached out and unzipped his jeans, pushing them down his legs until he kicked them off, leaving him in just his t-shirt and boxers. “Comfy?”

“Very,” he replied, smirking down at you as he tried to respect your request of keeping it PG tonight. “Suddenly I can’t wait for it to be tomorrow.”

You grinned, leaning up to press your lips to his before taking his hands in yours and pulling him with you as you crawled onto his bed. “Me either,” you laughed, kneeling next to him while he leaned back against the headboard and grabbed his laptop, the party downstairs now completely forgotten about by both of you. “Thank you for explaining things…I missed you.”

Bradley smiled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you down against his side as he placed the laptop between your bodies. “Thank you for letting me. Thanks for giving me a chance tonight,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your coconut shampoo he had a large amount of fondness for. “I missed you too, babes.”

You hummed quietly, cuddling close to him as if he hadn’t accidentally made you cry yesterday because of a total misunderstanding. “Wait,” you mumbled, looking up at him before down at his sheets. “You…washed these, right?”

Bradley snorted and nodded, “Of course I did,” he answered. “Briana made them smell like beer and her nasty fucking perfume. I’m still mad about that, because they used to smell like you.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his jaw as you tangled your fingers with his. “Well then…guess I’ll just have to stay with you tonight,” you whispered, then you were kissing him deeply, and Bradley kissed you right back.

Just when he was about to forget about the movie that was playing on his laptop, you pulled away and pressed your cheek against his bicep. “PG, remember?” You teased, and Bradley let out a laugh, because he would gladly let you get away with things like that if it meant he got to hold you in his arms like this.

The next morning, Bradley woke up to the feeling of your lips on his neck, your nose brushing against his scars as you slipped your hand under his shirt. “Baby,” he mumbled, blinking slowly when he opened his eyes. “What time is it?”

The sun hadn’t slipped in through the curtains yet, so Bradley knew it was still a little early. “It’s seven,” you answered, pressing soft kisses along his jaw as you hiked your thigh over his waist under the sheets.

Fuck, he didn’t need to be in class for another three hours, but he couldn’t go back to sleep now, because your knee had brushed against his cock, and he felt it spring to life at just that brief touch.

He was so gone for you already, it was almost pathetic.

Bradley had no idea what the state of his downstairs was, but he didn’t even care, because you had fallen asleep in his hoodie and on his chest, and now you were slowly grinding yourself against his thigh.

“What do you want, babes?” He groaned, his hands grabbing your hips when you crawled onto him and straddled his lap.

“I want you,” you answered, gripping the sides of his face as you ground your body against his.

Bradley hummed, his hands sliding down to your thighs as he leaned up to press his lips to the side of your neck. “Tell me what you need, baby,” he murmured, “I’ll give it to you.”

“I just need you,” came your whimpered response as you reached down to pull off his shirt. “I need to feel close to you.”

Even though you and Bradley had only gone a full day without talking or touching, it was clear that it felt like way longer to both of you, because Bradley needed to feel close to you right now too.

“I’m right here,” he mumbled, tugging at the bottom of his hoodie and pulling it off your body. His hands instantly went to your chest, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as he guided your lips to his in a deep kiss. “You’re so beautiful. Every inch of you is perfect.” He muttered against your lips and earned a soft moan from you.

“Bradley, I want you to fuck me,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair as you pressed your bare chest against his.

He pressed another kiss to your lips before nodding and sitting up, his hands reaching for your hips to guide you off him. “Okay, I’ll go get a-”

But then you shook your head and stayed on his lap, your eyes hooded and filled with lust and a hint of nervousness. “I want you to fuck me without a condom,” you added, and Bradley’s hands tightened on your hips.

Fucking you without a condom was a serious step for the both of you, and he had never personally had sex without one before, so of course the thought of doing it with you had him harder than the wall behind him.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his thumbs running along the edge of your panties. He wanted to make sure that this was something you wanted, and not a heat of the moment kind of thing, because the last thing he wanted was for you to regret anything with him. This would be only the second time you and he had sex, so he wanted to ensure that you really wanted this.

With that being said, his cock was aching in his boxers at the thought of taking you completely bare.

“I want to feel you. I’m on the pill, so it’s still protected,” you said, reaching down to palm him through the tight material that covered him. “If you don’t want to, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay if I don’t want to, because I want to so fucking bad,” he said quickly, lifting his hips when you began to tug down his boxers. “I just need you to tell me again that you want to.”

“I do,” you mumbled, pulling down and kicking off your panties before settling back down on his lap with nothing covering your sinful body from his eyes. When your core brushed against his cock, his hips jolted and an embarrassingly loud groan left his throat, but you just grinned at him as you slowly guided yourself down onto him. “Have you done this without one before?” You asked, bracing your hands on his shoulders while he had to hold off on coming right then and there, because holy fuck this felt unreal.

You felt unreal, and Bradley tightly gripped your waist as he shook his head. “Nope,” he answered through his teeth as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Never. Only with you now.”

The look you gave him was so sweet and sexy, he had to bite down on his lip as you slowly began to ride him. “I haven’t either,” you confessed, tangling your fingers in his hair. “But I’m happy you’re my first.”

Fuck, he wanted to be your only. You felt so fucking good, Bradley guided you to go a bit quicker as he pressed kisses along your neck. “Me too, baby,” he grunted, “Faster, babes.”

You moaned quietly, gripping the back of his neck as you lifted your hips and then dropped them, making Bradley groan rather loudly. “Fuck, it feels so good,” you gasped, burying your face against his neck.

“Do you like it like this? Just you and me with nothing in between us?” He rasped, his fingers digging into your skin as you rode him so good and nodded your head in response. “You feel fucking perfect.”

“Bradley,” you whined, pulling back to kiss him deeply as he started to thrust up into your soaked pussy, the lack of a condom making you feel like nothing he had ever felt before. How he went from not knowing where he stood with you last night to fucking you bare this morning, he didn’t know, but he also wasn’t about to keep questioning it.

He was already impossibly close, and he was actually surprised he lasted this long since he nearly came when you just rubbed against him. “Fuck, you’re going to make me cum embarrassingly fast. You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, sucking a mark onto your neck. “Do you want me to pull out?”

You bit your lip and nodded, bouncing on him a bit faster. “Maybe for this first time,” you answered, and Bradley groaned again.

First time? So this was maybe going to happen again? And if it did, you were going to let him cum inside you? Fuck, he was in heaven.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, rocking your hips against his, and Bradley had to force himself to hold back so you could get there first before he had to pull out of your addictive body.

Your eyes rolled back as you pulled hard on his hair, and he felt you become even warmer around his cock as you came, loud cries leaving your lips as you lazily rode him. “Goddamn, babes,” he grunted, waiting until the very last second before he lifted you off him and came all over your stomach and thighs with a deep groan. “Fuck…”

You moaned softly, watching as he painted your skin white, a sheepish grin on your face as you ran your fingers through his hair. “That was a lot,” you murmured and Bradley let out a hoarse laugh, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his.

“Yeah, well, if you could feel what I just did…” he muttered, not caring at all that both you and he were now covered in his mess. He was just so fucking happy that you were still with him. “I’m sorry for what happened on Monday. I promise, I’ll never do anything to break your trust again.”

You hummed, draping your arms around his shoulders. “And I’m sorry for overreacting,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his scarred cheek. “From now on, no more running away instead of listening to the full story, and no more having your ex in your bed.”

Bradley laughed again and nodded, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “Deal,” he agreed, then rolled you onto your back and kissed you again.

#babes and fratley #bets and bargains #bets and bargains au #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster x y/n #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw smut

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yuri-is-online · 9 months ago

Note

ruggie to (unknowingly) his kid: imma flirt with your mom and potentially erase your existence, sorry not sorry

*cracks knuckles* nothing but the best for my favorite hyena.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, for context on the fyuuture kid au can be found here and here.

The entire Yutu situation gives Leona a headache. He sees the portal, takes a sniff, rolls his eyes, and goes looking for the only hyena he (or to be more accurate Yuu) knows. He doesn't outright say “congratulations you're a dad” because he doesn't know if that would be too much to believe but Ruggie takes the whole "time traveler related to Yuu" idea fairly well. I mean, Yuu’s from another world and Ruggie was pretty convinced that was impossible until . What bothers him is Leona's saying Yutu is a beastman. That can only really mean one thing, but Ruggie doesn't want to bug Leona for any more details because what if his first thought is wrong and all his hopes are crushed? I mean he never said that Yutu was Yuu's kid... just that they are related. Maybe it's an ancestry thing and he can just adjust the streams a bit?

Meanwhile Yutu is thrilled to see what a great partner to his parent his dad is. It makes him feel very warm and safe, something Yutu hasn't felt in a very long time.

Ruggie! Yutu is a bit oblivious to certain things. He tries to socialize with people, really he does but things always just sort of come out wrong and leave him upset, lonely, and embarrassed. He doesn't have Ruggie's charisma or ability to schmooze, but he does have his laugh. Something that endears him to Yuu which is all he really cares about at the end of the day. Hyenas tend to be more solitary and stick to their clans/family units, and while he might not have his ears and tail in your world he still has his instincts.

Yuu remembers Ruggie as someone who took care of them and took a great deal of pride in that. They tell him about how Yutu shares his laugh, and how they know in their soul he would have loved Yutu to bits. Ruggie has a voice line about how he used to make flower crowns for the neighborhood kids back home, and I can see him teaching Yuu how he made them when they were preparing for Yutu so they "could make some for the kid when they get here." Yuu might not remember that's why they know how to make the little crowns Yutu loves so much, but it makes them nostalgic to watch their little dandelion prince run around their backyard in his crown.

Dandelions are his favorite flower from how often Yuu uses them to make flower crowns, and he quite likes making wishes on them. When he was a child he used to bring them up to Yuu and insist on them making wishes too, he never told them but he was convinced that one day Yuu's memory loss and pain would go away if they just kept wishing on them. He still makes wishes on them sometimes, but he feels very silly about it now.

He likes being useful, especially to Yuu, and is surprisingly good at negotiating for someone who isn't as unflappable as his dad. People tend to think he comes off as a bit stupid, so they're very blindsided when he knows all his figures and what to charge for his work. He doesn't fully realize this which tends to annoy people, which he does pick up on but he's too stubborn to let that affect negotiations. He needs that money more than whoever is dunking on him.

What does he use that money for? Well he wants Yuu to use it on bills, but you keep saying no so he spends it on fabric and yarn. If he's going to spend so much time alone he might as well be able to clothe himself. And you always praised him when he made you something new. Like I said, he wants to be useful.

As described here upon being transported to Twisted Wonderland, Ruggie! Yutu found himself transformed into a hyena beastman. His hearing is overwhelmingly sensitive, Crewel has to speak to him in whispers for the first few weeks, and still finds himself doing it sometimes. Losing Yuu clearly struck a massive blow to Yutu's sense of self, and now Crewel has to tell him about what happened to his dad.

Yutu really likes the idea that the dead in Twisted Wonderland become stars. He starts stargazing to cope with missing his parents, even picking out where in the sky he thinks you and Ruggie are watching over him. It evolves into an interest in stargazing that he keeps up when he travels back in time.

Now Ruggie. Ruggie. When Yutu meets him he's surprised at how accurate Yuu's memories of him were. He loves showing off how good he would be at taking care of Yuu while providing them the room to take care of themselves too. Ruggie has so much respect for what Yuu can do without magic it makes Yutu a bit teary eyed, he had always worried about Yuu feeling alone in Twisted Wonderland since he knows first hand mages can be very judgemental so seeing one not like that-

"Well it's just nice to see." His father can't see it but his tail his wagging underneath his hoodie. For some reason, Ruggie doesn't seem proud of himself though, he's just staring at the ground long and hard like he's thinking about something.

"Are you sure you should be thanking me?" Yutu thinks that Ruggie sounds sad, and he's instantly worried that he's said something wrong somehow but has no idea what it could be or how to explain himself if he had.

"Um- is is there a reason I shouldn't?" Please don't make him guess that's his least favorite game and he always fails-

"Well I mean I'm flirting with your parent ain't I? That could potentially erase your existence." Ruggie is so serious about it that it shocks Yutu out of his spiral.

"Oh. I don't think that will be an issue."

Listen the instant Ruggie learns he can flirt with Yuu to his hearts content without causing timeline issues he gets three times as "insufferable" (Yutu thinks it's cute) with how direct he is to Yuu. He's still more reserved than some of the other boys, he wants you to make the first move, but he's happy that he wasn't misinterpreting your relationship up to this point. Really happy.

He is significantly LESS happy with what Yutu tells him about the future. Ruggie was raised by his grandma and while he loves her to death the last thing he ever wanted for his child was to A) have to struggle like he did and B) have to struggle alone. Don't get him wrong, he trusts Yuu to have given Yutu the best childhood possible given their circumstances but those circumstances never should have existed. It's literally the one thing he has been working for all this time and vowed never to accept failure for.

Very worried about Yutu's health now that he knows he's been a Hyena beastmen all this time under that hood. He uses his new found freedom to take up Yuu's time to keep them away from Ramshackle (until Yutu is ready to tell Yuu) so Yutu can have a bit more time to relax outside of his disguise. he's very impressed by Yutu's sewing skills and takes the time to teach him how to alter his clothes to be more friendly to his tail and ears.

From the bit of reading I did on Hyenas, and some of Ruggie's voice lines, bringing back food for the cubs is very important to them so Ruggie starts being very concerned about seeing Yutu eat enough. He won't even charge for it if he thinks his kid didn't get enough to eat, Rugginald is going to find that boy a sandwich if it's the last thing he does (but not really he's not going to die on Yutu again.)

Surprisingly, Ruggie is more than fine with Yutu's lack of charisma and social awkwardness. It takes all sorts of peoples to make the world go round and Yutu clearly has a good head for figures and a strong work ethic. He knows what his weakness are and he tries to make up for them, what else could a survival minded guy like Ruggie ask for? (One of those sweaters he made Yuu, a matching one preferably he wants to take holiday pictures he's heard rich people do that.)

Ruggie is another one who has no idea how to fix the future, but he's sure Leona will be willing to make it his problem if he learns just how much more work is waiting for him in the future if he doesn't stop things now. In the meantime he tries not to think about the death that could be awaiting him in favor of working to maintain what he has now, and that's you, your not cat, and your star gazing son from the future. Ruggie's never been one to take stock in the idea that a person can be poor in wealth but rich in friends, but damn if he doesn't feel like it every time Yutu asks him to show him something new.

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ruggie bucci x reader #ruggie bucchi x yuu #future kid au

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months ago

Note

AITA for "bragging" about making the deans list?

so I (19ftm) have a sorta complicated friendship with a group of friends. We're all autistic, and we all have different strengths and weaknesses. Specifically, I am very academically gifted. I graduated high school with a 3.9 gpa, consistent honor roll, APs, etc. None of my friends are even close to this. Of the other four of them, two never went to college because they couldn't do it, one is dropping out after this year, and one is a consistent c student. I don't mind this much, although I will admit it gets frustrating sometimes when I'm trying to talk about what I'm doing and they just don't get it. Recently, I found out that I made the deans list, and I was super proud of myself. I texted our gc to tell them, and one person responded saying "wow that must've been hard" in a way that felt sorta sarcastic but I ignored it. No one else responded. I assumed they hadn't seen it and while I was definitely upset, I tried not to take it personally.

Later, while we were on call, I mentioned it again. One of them, the same person who'd made the sarcastic comment earlier, responded by saying that I shouldn't brag about it so much because I knew they were all struggling academically and it was annoying to rub it in their faces that I could do things they couldn't. I got really upset, since I've had a rough year and was super proud of myself, and left the call. No one's reached out to me since.

Some important background info: everyone else has talents I physically can't do. They're all gifted artists or musicians, which I can't be because of my disability severely limiting finger and hand movement. I have never once told them to not talk about their accomplishments in those fields, even if it made me feel a bit sad. I have also gotten told off for bragging before, but I didn't get those times either. For example, they got mad when I vented about being stressed for my midterms then informed them the next day that they weren't super hard and I was sure I did great, because the friend who has since dropped out failed theirs. (If someone who understands social cues could explain how this is wrong, I would really appreciate that). They've mentioned several times that they feel stupid when I talk about the work I'm doing, as I got into a fairly prestigious university and am doing lots of rigorous work that they don't really get, but does that mean I should just not bring it up? I'm not trying to make them feel bad, I just want to talk about this part of my life and the ups and downs

#aita #am i the asshole

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theoriginalkaminari · 8 months ago

Text

Dabi with an S/O that has a bad scar

(that he gave them)

Uh...Dabi with gn!reader and stuff.

Warnings: burns ig, stalking and kidnapping, Dabi is a little bitch, swearing and choking.

Also pls don't reblog my stuff! Or repost shit like that. Anyways enjoy :D

Dabi was never good with showing his emotions.

He tried to avoid talking about anything of the sorts as much as he could.

So when he felt a strange feeling in his chest when he saw you, a hero, he didn't recognize the love he felt. He thought of it as hatred. Which ended up in him attacking you.

At first, you dodged all his attacks and hit him with your quirk at least once. You were doing pretty good for yourself. Until your colleague got attacked by Toga, distracting you.

Dabi took this as an invitation to strike. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a wave of fire towards you, and you weren't able to dodge in time. The fire struck your neck, leaving you with a third degree burn.

Your colleague managed to get away from Toga, and get you to safety.

Dabi felt wrong. He felt a sinking feeling in his chest, like he made a mistake. He didn't know why. After all, when did he ever do anything wrong? He had this deep urge to see you. Maybe it was to finish the job. To burn you alive. Maybe it was to play with you a bit. But eventually, he gave into the urge and tracked your agency down.

You were sitting in you office, unfortunately finishing some paperwork. Rubbing your tired eyes, you lean back in your office chair. Being a hero was a great job, but you hated the paperwork. Especially when Hawks dumped all his baggage on you, ditching you do go do something stupid.

You heard a tap at your window, interrupting your thoughts. Looking up, you see a dark shadow perched on the window seal. You squint to try and see it better, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't scared. You hesitantly step forward, reaching out to open the window.

Dabi gets tired of waiting for you to open the window, so naturally, he breaks it and climbs in. You can see him clearly, and you feel your heart beat faster. Your mind was racing. There was a villain in your hero agency. You ready your quirk, ready to strike first and ask questions later. You raise your hand, when he suddenly grabs it.

The villain tilts his head, looking at your fist in his hand. He feels the strange feeling in his chest again. This annoys him. Deeply. So he breaks your wrist, causing you to yell out in pain. Your secretary hears this, and runs in. She freezes in place, scared out of her mind. You quickly stand up, ready to fight back.

Only to find out the villain has fled.

Weeks pass. No sign of Dabi. Well, to you that is. He keeps getting this...feeling..in his chest. He hates it. And the worst part? It happens any time he thinks about you. So he decides to stalk you.

Watching you in battle from afar, watching you in your agency, he even managed to find your house. Unfortunately for him, you're not an idiot. You close your curtains at night and lock your doors and windows. Damn.

Dabi eventually gets tired of this feeling. One day, he's on a misson with Toga. Toga is rambling about some random girl from U.A, the one that looks like Kirby. The thing that catches his attention, is the way she describes her feelings for the girl.

And everything she says, is how Dabi feels about you.

Toga suddenly mentions that she once considered kidnapping the girl. Dabi stops in his tracks. Thats it. Thats how he can face this fucking feeling in his chest. So he breaks into your house when your asleep, burns it down, waits for you to fall unconscious due to the smoke, and takes you back to the League of Villains hideout.

Only, he keeps you to himself. The others don't even know you're there. Dabi ties you to the bed, and waits. Then he gets tired of waiting after ten minutes. So he pinches your cheek, hard.

You jolt awake, your eyes wide. Dabi looms over you. "Morning." He finally says. You growl at him, and trash in your bonds. Dabi rolls his eyes, leaning against the wall. "Thats not going to work." He says, very unamused by your antics. You continue to ignore him. Dabi walks over to the bed, and grabs your jaw. His grip is firm, and almost hurts.

"Easy, creep." You spit back, trying to squirm away from his grip. Dabi tightens his grip on your jaw, but you won't let him win by wincing. "What the hell do you want?" You growl, narrowing your eyes. Dabi ignores your question, and lets his hand travel down to your neck.

You're wearing a turtleneck that successfully hides your scar. Annoyed by this, he rips your shirt off. Dabi ignores your discomfort.

His fingers lightly trace around the scar, making you squirm, wanting nothing more but to be away from him. Dabi grips your shoulders, making you hold still. He smirks. "Cute scar." He murmurs. "You really shouldn't keep it covered. It makes you look better." His statement makes you glare at him.

"You think I want people to see that? Its ugly." You bite back.

"Ugly? What makes you think that?" Dabi lightly squeezes your throat, making your breath hitch.

"Because you made it." You growl, trying not to let the fear show.

Dabi squeezes again, a bit harder. He leans down to your ear. "Well, personally..." He whispers. "I quite like it." He chuckles, pulling away.

Dabi runs a few fingers down your chest, now sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You're cute." He grins devilishly. "I think I'll keep you."

#dabi x reader #todoroki touya #bnha dabi #Dabi is a hoebag #dabi x gn!reader #gn reader

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muzsmocsing · 7 months ago

Text

MHA headcanons because the show makes me happy: part 2

This turned out sort of Bakugou heavy, I don't even like him that much but alas he's an interesting little guy. Like last time, if you don't like them or it clashes with canon that's okay. I can be wrong about inconsequential things sometimes. As a treat :)

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🌟 Tsuyu is autistic and does not mask at all. If you want a brutally honest opinion without aggression that comes from annoying Bakugou, Tsu is your gal.

🌟 Aizawa hates great danes. He's neutral about dogs in general, not his thing but people can like what they like. But great danes... They just don't sit right with his soul.

🌟 It does kind of bother Ojiro when Denki uses his tail as a fidget toy in class. But it seems to help him focus a bit so Ojiro doesn't have the heart to tell him to stop.

🌟 Thirteen has a program for troubled kids struggling with "villainous" quirks. They want to show people that if literal black holes can be used to do good in the world, so can any other ability.

🌟 Kirishima is a good singer but he only does it when he's alone. His singing voice is much softer than his speaking voice, and he thinks it's not manly enough. Bakugou knows this because he sometimes hears him practice Lemon Boy at night. He doesn't say anything about it though because he'd rather admit to Deku he considers him a good friend than jeopardize that experience.

- Welcome to the Bakugou interlude! One of these have a VERY brief mention of PAST domestic abuse, it's marked by this 💥 if you'd rather skip that. -

🌟 Bakugou got his passion for cooking from Auntie Inko. She'd always let him help with dinner when he stayed over, and taught him that cooking is a way to show love when putting it into words is too hard. Now he makes lunch for his friends every Saturday.

💥 Masaru is actually Katsuki's stepdad. Mitsuri managed to escape her abusive first marriage when Katsuki was four. After all the trauma, she found safety in the kind, gentle man that is now her husband. Masaru is endlessly patient with his son and Katsuki turned out to be 100% a papa's boy. And Mitsuki couldn't be any happier about that.

🌟 Not counting his boyfriend, Bakugou's closest friends are actually Ochaco and Denki. Besides Kirishima Ochaco is the only other student he considers a true equal. And Denki just kind of weaseled himself into his heart along the way.

🌟 When Bakugo is being particularly difficult Denki likes to call him a boomer.

🌟 Bakugou's worst enemies aren't the LoV or even Deku. It's Mina's neon pink and chartreuse zebra print faux fur collar dressing gown and Kirishima's 8-in-1 shampoo.

🌟 Pro hero Dynamight, famous for his smoky eye and sharp liner, has an alt skincare and makeup brand with violent names and edgy packaging but impeccable quality. His most recent release is the 3rd Degree palette, a collab with Shouto.

- That's it for the Bakugou interlude! -

🌟 Fatgum was VERY popular with both girls and boys in high school and all the "nice guys" were seething about it. He was a tall, funny, thick guy and the definition of a dad friend. He always had crackers or granola bars on him in case someone skipped breakfast.

🌟 Yaomomo takes commissions from her classmates if they want something made. She takes payment is in the form of chocolates equivalent to how much fat she has to burn to make the item, or based on how stupid she thinks it is. (She charged Denki 2 whole chocolate cakes for a maid dress.)

🌟 Hatsume is secretly working on a new hero costume for Momo. She overheard her confiding in Jirou that the outfit is cold and makes her feel exposed and vulnerable, so she stole some leftover scraps from Mirio's costume for studying and got to work immediately.

🌟 Even in his true form, Toshinori is freakishly tall. Endeavor, a full time beefcake of almost 2 meters, can just barely look the decrepit old man with turbo asthma in the eyes. And that drives him insane.

🌟 Toshinori thinks of his Allmight form as drag. When he lived in the US he explored all the things he'd missed out on living in a more conservative country and became a regular at the ballroom scene. The queens inspired him to camp up his hero persona to the MAX.

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Thank you for reading!! If you liked this you can check out part 1 here.

#one look at all might and you can tell the category was superhero americana eleganza extravaganza #my hero academia #mha #bnha #bnha headcanons #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #kiribaku #shouto todoroki #tsuyu asui #aizawa shouta #denki kaminari #ojiro mashirao #ochako uraraka #fatgum #all might #yagi toshinori #momo yaoyorozu #thirteen bnha

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mdhwrites · 5 months ago

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Recently, I've been poring over the 'TOH critical' tags and, as someone who wanted to properly watch the show, seeing just how many flaws the writing and characters have kinda turned me off from even starting for a bit. Before I found these tags, I would have assumed Owl House was some kind of flawless untouchable masterpiece. Now, I can see that it is immensely flawed. Not bad, but flawed. It has great ideas that it just spaffs up the walls. In some cases that I've seen, it goes against its own message, which brings me to the point of this.

The show seems to have a message of 'be a weirdo! Be who you want to be and don't let anyone tell you to be something you're not'. This 'be yourself' message is fine in a vacuum, but then there's a character who's treatment in the show goes against this. Hooty! From the moment he's introduced, Hooty is presented as a weird creature. Even other people in the Demon Realm find him unnatural. He's kinda in his own world, and he says and does things that are weird. This would work well for the message, but the problem arises from other characters' treatment of him.

Everyone fucking HATES Hooty! They loathe him! They call him names, they hit him, they put him down constantly, the works! Everyone holds him in open contempt! I wouldn't really have an issue with this at first, but Luz also takes part in some of these actions. It would be one thing for negative/antagonistic characters to be doing this, but the self-proclaimed 'weirdo' main characters? She seems annoyed by Hooty's very existence. Don't get me wrong, he IS annoying, but he's also just being himself. He's a proud weirdo and doesn't let anyone stop him from being who he wants.

Why doesn't Luz love him?

He is exactly the type of person(?) who she should feel connected with. And the fact she joins in on some of the bullying is real shitty. Keep in mind Luz was ridiculed and ostracised for being weird, so her then turning around and being all dismissive and annoyed by someone who is, for all intents and purposes, just like her is shitty.

Personally, I would have had it that Luz really likes Hooty. She admires how he's so unapologetic in his weirdness. You could even still have Eda hitting him and calling him names, which Luz calls out. She knows what it's like to be put down for just being yourself, and she's not gonna stand to see someone else get the same treatment.

Or, another idea, Luz starts out sharing Eda's view on Hooty and being annoyed by him. One time, he does something or shows Luz something he's proud of. She calls him or it or both stupid, and Hooty just....cries. I don't mean overblown waterfalls-out-the-eyes crying, I mean he turns his head down and looks visibly upset.

Luz sees that her words have genuinely hurt Hooty. This could be her realising that Hooty isn't just some weird talking punching bag to hurl abuse at. For his weird actions and appearance, he's a person too. Her being mean to him just for being himself, she realises, makes her no better than her bullies.

Then, to make this even more shitty, the characters DO start being nicer to him later on, but only after he's proven himself useful. So that's a good message, isn't it? 'Love is conditional!' It really makes the 'found family' aspect of the Owl House residents feel all the more forced.

Tl;Dr It's okay to be a weirdo, unless you're Hooty!

(But that's just me! I hope all of this made sense and you can decipher what I'm trying to say😊)

So the short answer to this is that Hooty is essentially character/thematic assassination on... Everyone? Because the show wants to say "Be who you are! Have freedom! Express yourself!" Hooty however is constantly mocked, belittled and literally hurt by others with at best an apology. People treat his portable form as gross despite that letting him experience more of life and the one time people begrudgingly acknowledge he is truly good, they then force him to promise to not repeat the helpful behavior. He is not allowed freedom, expression or to be himself without ridicule, EVEN BY LUZ.

This... However has a bigger problem. Hooty is a bit character after all. If you want to claim he doesn't matter because he's just a joke... There's okay precedent for it. The problem is that then you have to ask what he's mocking. After all, gag characters are all about mocking a certain archtype or the like. King's whole point is to mock children who think themselves as self important and point out how deluded and funny that is, or how funny a deluded sense of self grandeur in general is, at least in the first season. As such... What is Hooty?

Hooty is Sheldon. Not literally but spiritually and this is gonna get kind of rough but here me out. For those who don't get the reference, Sheldon is the main autistic representation in The Big Bang Theory. He is also the most antagonistic force within the friend group. Not because he's evil or anything but because he his own certain ways of doing things and ways he looks at things and as such actually has a lot of episodes about expanding his perception of the world and of others learning to understand who he is and why he is the way he is. The show is actually shockingly respectful in this way, at least most of what I have seen of it, and I can portray this with the best joke I can recall from the series. It also will help me later in why The Big Bang Theory is better than TOH at one certain element people REALLY want to say TOH is great about.

The setup is that the other three main dudes are at a white board, discussing plans to go so see a movie. Every plan they devise runs into a road block because of allergies, time, etc. like that, not even only just because of Sheldon's quirks. However, then the lead, the Ross of the group, stops and goes, "I see it." The others squint and look closer before he adds, "It's the only way." The other two agree... And then they all just leave without Sheldon coming with. Sheldon pauses, looks at the board and goes, "They're correct. It was the only way."

I LOVE this joke... Because it's not mean AT ALL. One might think if they're overly sensitive that it is. I mean, how could they leave their friend behind!? But Sheldon is very honest and up front about his quirks and habits. These guys know him well enough that they know better than to force him out of his comfort zone. That he doesn't function that way. Sheldon KNOWS THIS TOO. As such, when presented with the options of telling Sheldon they can't go because they can't go without him or still having a good night and not making their friend feel bad for being why they couldn't go out, they choose to go out and Sheldon agrees that it was the correct option. They respected him while still living their lives.

And this is because The Big Bang Theory's pitch is not to be offensive to nerds like many online people like to make it out to be (I fucking hate people who call it 'Nerd Black Face') but to just make fun of us like any sitcom would. Sitcoms are parodies of real life. They always exaggerated characters we know are somewhat true. We know a Kramer, we know a Ross, we know a Barney, we know a Lorraine. Are they exactly like this? No, it's cranked up so that it's a comedy, that's the fucking point. But this comedic framing also allows it to be honest about ALL sides of nerd dom.

Sheldon is BY FAR made out to be the most successful, intelligent and wealthiest of ALL the guys. Also, all the guys are doing well in their fields and monetarily. Do they have widespread fame and acclaim? Not really but they're not discredited or anything, they just have interdepartmental bickering. That's accurate from literally every scientist I have seen talk about the subject. It's genuine about the good and the bad of the nerd experience while being entertaining.

So what the fuck does any of this have to do with The Owl House? And especially Hooty? It's actually quite simple. While TOH champions having a nerd protagonist, it presents the 'gentrified nerd'. The convenient nerd. They know about fanfiction but won't force you to actually hear about it. They have interests but not hyperfixations. They don't ever get lost down a rabbit hole because they're passionate about something or just want to tell you a neat fact.

Do you know who does though? Hooty. Hooty just wants someone who is willing to listen about his day. He has some weird quirks to how he behaves and he likes some strange things like bugs. He will talk to you for hours on a subject, randomly and just because he can and might forget that you might have other things to do. To me, those are very, VERY accurate parts of nerd life... And we're supposed to fucking HATE Hooty for these things. Remember the only person, in the ENTIRE SERIES to actually befriend Hooty instead of treating him at best as a convenience is Liltih... At the start of her becoming a joke. The only person who shows him real, genuine compassion... Also becomes 'The Cool Aunt' who hyper fixates on niche architecture and has her trauma of working the EC mocked as just being really bad at her job.

It is, genuinely, kind of gross to me. I've actually talked about this before that the show is so hyperfocused on a very specific, very small set of people for who it approves of, which is essentially whoever fits into Luz correctly, that anyone who felt excluded by the show is extremely valid. And yes, Luz has a montage at the start of silly, over the top and extreme behavior... That doesn't continue. At all. The one time she subjects someone to an Azura rant is to torture Eda enough to go to the Convention and that's only because they were already on the subject because King was interested. She quotes Azura but quickly and doesn't lose the thread. She might say a cute word like 'Snorses' but not even enough to make a break in the conversation.

She is convenient. Gus is only interested in human stuff when it's convenient. Willow will put aside her interest in plants when it's inconvenient. Amity just stops giving a shit about being an intellectual AT ALL post her getting a crush. Hunter wears a wolf t-shirt and gets into Cosmic Frontier enough to cosplay it for Halloween... But only Halloween. These are people who are extremely socially acceptable in every way.

Which... explains why nerds love them actually. See, I think Big Bang Theory does deserve criticism, it is by no means perfect and I would be VERY interested in hearing what the Jewish community thinks of Howard who is easily the most problematic character in the show but not all of the criticism is genuine. I think a lot of it comes down to the fact that we're used to a side, gag character representing the kind worst parts of us... But we're not used to being the focus. We can laugh at all the broke bitches who show up in Sitcoms or the jock failures who are meatheads, etc. like that... But laugh at ourselves? Why would we do that? Why would we allow that? We're better than what this show depicts, even if we're not.

It is inconvenient to the narrative we wish to tell ourselves that we are still the outcasts. That are we not part of the dominant culture and so it is unfair to mock our interests and lifestyle. But like... Marvel movies have been the biggest blockbusters for well over a decade and no one bats a fucking at that. D&D is quickly becoming a household name due to its ever expanding influence. We are not the outcasts anymore. Being into a weird cartoon is not some shocking thing like it was 12 years ago when Bronies first made people aware that this subculture of nerds existed. Times are changing but we still wish to see ourselves as only the victims, even as more and more our spaces show that they are just as evil, corrupt, manipulative and cruel as any athletic superstar or pretty boy actor's club.

A lot of these nerds want to believe they are Luz. Never wrong, never giving anyone a reason to dislike them, and always just passionate about the things they like, never annoying. And you know who those people would mock? Who those people HAVE mocked?

Hooty. Because he's more real. He's the demon they wish they didn't have to face in the mirror. See you next tale.

======+++++======

I really do want to re-emphasize this: FUCK HOWARD. Big Bang is NOT good for the jewish community and I don't think if I watched it nowadays I would be able to tolerate his depiction AT ALL. Also, Raj is also probably all sorts of rough too. I'm ONLY defending the nerd portrayal part of Big Bang.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

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#the owl house criticism #toh critical #toh #the owl house #toh hooty #luz noceda

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creative-caramel-coffee · 1 year ago

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Hello!! I really like your writing, there is always such a nice level of care and comfort to your fics!!

I was hoping to request a wandanat x reader fic, where reader has chronic appendicitis and doesn’t realize it until she has to be rushed to the hospital from it getting so bad.

(Sorry this one is self indulgent because I had chronic appendicitis when I was younger, but I would also fake being sick to get out of school so when I actually had appendicitis my mom didn’t believe me. It would flare up like once every few months and just be the most debilitating painful thing I’ve ever experienced, made even worse when I had to try to walk and sit through school. She only finally believed something was wrong when I eventually had it on the weekend and immediately rushed me to the ER lol)

If you already have a fic like this or don’t wanna write it that’s so completely fine! Thank you and I hope you’re doing awesome!!! 💞

A Steady Decline

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 1.1K

Summary: Reader is in some weird pain. It feels like cramps from hell but its all wrong. What is it?

TW: Cramps, pain, surgery, mentions of injury, mentions of canon typical violence, pain medicine, needles (implied), hospitals, appendicitis

A/n Omg im so sorry this took so long, I have had so many requests and I finally got around to this one. Im sorry to everyone who’s waiting on requests and thank you all for being so patient with me :)

It started after a mission. It was a simple mission, and it went without injury so the pain didn’t make any sense. Maybe your period was coming early? What else would explain the weird cramping feeling in your midsection. But this felt slightly different. It's not where the cramps usually sat.

Walking off the quinjet behind Wanda and steve would normally be great after a mission with no injuries but your stomach really hurt. You plastered on a fake smile and did your best to stand at full height. Once you were clear of the jet Nat rushed over and pulled you and Wanda in for a hug.

“I miss you guys. How was the mission?” She said squeezing tight. You groaned softly and she immediately pulled away. Holding you at arm's length she scanned your body for injuries.

“Baby what’s the matter?” Nat said now in full spy mode.

“Yeah, love i didn’t see or hear anything about any injuries?” Wanda said looking both concerned and annoyed.

“Im fine. Just sore. Pretty intense fight with one of the stupid hydra agents.” You muttered and rolled your shoulders back to loosen the muscles. You winced as it moves your torso uncomfortably. Nat’s gaze narrowed but she let it go.

“If you're sure.” She said and Wanda seemed to dismiss it.

“Come on. I wanna shower before this debriefing.” Wanda said and grabbed your hand and started dragging you back to the shared room.

The pain seemed to settle, with the odd cramp and dull ache that had settled you were beginning to question if this really was your period or something else entirely. You pushed that thoughts away and began to strip for a shower. The heat of the water soothed your aching muscles but did little for the pain in your stomach. Was it your stomach? The pain seemed to almost be shifting to your lower right side. Your uterus didn’t move, did it? You almost laughed at the idea. Dismissing the thought.

After a warm shower you slipped on some tracksuits and a hoodie before throwing your hair into a messy bun and sliding on a pair of ratty old sneakers. They were old but you loved them to bits. Literally.

After brushing your hair, you went down to the briefing room now trying very hard to ignore the active pain that was shooting through your abdomen.

You ran your hands through your damp hair and hurried to your seat at the table. Resting your head on the desk you wrapped an arm around your midsection as you waited for the others to arrive. After a bit you heard footsteps and looked up to see the disapproving face of your redheaded spy girlfriend. Her arms were crossed as she looked you up and down her suspicions confirmed.

“Alright L/n whats going on? I know somethings up. Now spill.” She said.

“Im fine. Just … cramps … or whatever.” You said dismissively.

“Right…” she said slowly. “Cuz cramps make you all pale and sad.”

“Sad yes. Pale. No. Im not pale.”

“Yes. You are you-“ Nat began only to be cut off by your other girlfriend who came in.

“Whats going on?” Wanda asked, freshly showered.

“Y/n/n here is in pain and claims it's just cramps.” Nat said glaring at you with no real heat behind it. Wanda opened her mouth to speak but fury and steve entered and everyone took their seats.

You tried your best to pay attention, you really did but it hurt so bad. So so bad. You were curling in on yourself. And after a bit were fully zoned out.

Fury must have asked you something because there was a pause before Nat jabbed you in the ribs to get your attention.

However instead you curled in on yourself further, crying out and falling out of your chair. You didn’t really hear them tell Jarvis to get Bruce, you weren’t really present enough to remember the trip to the med bay. Or Bruce examining you while your girlfriends stood nervously by the door. You barely remember counting back as you breathed in the anaesthetisa. You just remember it hurting so much. Wanda and Nat were the last faces you saw before fading into darkness.

It was a soft darkness, kind of like an ocean. You floated around a bit and it felt nice. Spacey and soft. After a few seconds your conciseness faded all together and you drifted into a dreamless drug filled sleep.

But the next thing you knew, you woke in a white hospital room. There was a soft beeping of monitors as they measured your vitals. Based off the obnoxious sized poster of Ironman on the wall you knew you were in the tower's recovery ward. I mean of course it had one, with a team of superhero’s injuries were almost endless.

However, it was amusing Tony chose this room, or you assumed it was tony. This was the room where you met your girlfriends for a real introduction way back when pigs flew. It had been after a heat battle when you had stepped in and saved Wanda’s life. Who would have thought all these years later you would be back here. With them by your side again, but this time a whole new dynamic.

As you took stock of your surroundings you faintly realised the pain so much more tolerable. An IV was placed in the crook of your elbow with what you assumed was only the good stuff based off how buzzed and spacey your felt. Nat and Wanda were asleep either side of your bed each holding one of your hands. When you woke so did nat. Who immediately stood and brushed the hair from your eyes.

“Hey baby girl. How are you feeling honey?” She asked and you grinned back goofily.

“I feel great!” You slurred. Nat chuckled softly still carding her hands through your hair.

“Im sure your do love. Bruce has you on the strong stuff.” She said and Wanda made a noise as sat up rubbing her eyes.

“Morning sweetheart.” She said with a yawn “when did you wake up?”

“Natty woke me up.” You grinned and nat playful slapped your arm.

“No i didn’t you ass.” She said with a snort, and you gasped, clutching your arm in mock offence.

“Wands, she hit me.” You pouted and Wanda chuckled.

“Baby you kind of deserved it.” She said.

“Nooo. You're all ganging up on meee.” You whined and the two women chuckled.

You were stubborn as an ass and maybe the biggest flirt on the team. But Wanda and Nat would love you regardless, with or without an appendix.

MASTERLIST

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