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elixirfromthestars · 9 months ago

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A Night of Frights & Delights

Pairing: Athlete!Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader (College AU)

Summary: It’s Friday the 13th and the college kids in town decided to host a weekend camping trip on the outskirts of town. Your best friend convinced you to go much to your reluctance. What could go wrong when the one guy you can’t stand is also there?

Word Count: 7k

Warning(s): slight horror themes / suggestive tones + implications / mentions of a past murder (not in graphic detail just campfire storytelling) / slow burn / suspense + other elements of spookiness / touch starved elements / be prepared for lots of back and forth + tension

Prompt: Campsite + forced proximity + “ It’s not bad enough to have Friday the 13th, we’ve gotta have a full moon too?”

a/n: here’s my entry for @witchywithwhiskey ‘s summer slasher writing challenge. Any chance to celebrate summerween and I’m there 🤭✨ I got carried away with the spooky element of it and this ended up longer than expected. Thank you for reading! 🧡 Feedback is always appreciated!! 🎃🧡

a steamy part two ❤️‍🔥

“ It’s Friday the 13th! Gather ‘round, for some good ol’ scary campfire stories!” Sam Wilson called out to anyone who would listen. A task that wasn’t the easiest thing to ask for when all the college students in the area were trying to have their last bit of fun before fall semester started. Amongst the ones that weren’t already drunk or passed out, a few were trying to find the perfect opportunity to sneak away into the night.

You on the other hand sat near the bonfire, appreciating the warmth it provided on this chilly night. Your back was resting against a log. The scratchy surface grazes against your black sweater at the slightest movement. Camping wasn’t your ideal choice for a weekend getaway, but when your best friend Jane insisted on you coming along it was hard to say no. Especially, since you had already said no to multiple get-togethers throughout the summer.

It’s not like you didn’t want to hang out with her. The issue was that wherever she was her boyfriend was—and wherever he was his friends were. And his friends included one smartass star pitcher for your university’s baseball team who made it his life’s mission to be a thorn in your side.

Needless to say, you couldn’t stand the man.

“ It was actually 1982, not 1985,” Jane whispers her comment to you, nudging your arm lightly. You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at her, your clueless eyes meeting her amused ones.

“ You’re not paying attention to Sam’s story, are you?” She quietly calls you out, leaning slightly closer. You shake your head sheepishly,“ No. Kind of got lost in thought,” you admit. Jane nods in acknowledgment,“ You’re not missing much. He’s just telling the story of the murders that happened here in ‘82,” she explains. You nod slowly, an eerie chill creeping up your spine. Everyone within fifty miles of the town knew of the horrific crime. It was the worst the town had ever seen.

A group of teenagers had snuck off into the woods to party a week before their senior graduation. They brought their camping gear to spend the night under the full moon to celebrate the milestone. They had gone so deep into the woods no one heard their music blasting all night.

No one heard their screams either as their life was taken from them.

You took a shaky breath, your fingers tracing random patterns into the dirt beneath you. Even though you could recite this story from memory it was different hearing it told in gruesome detail. Something Sam was not shying away from doing.

“ Don’t let Sam’s story get to you—here have a s’more,” Thor spoke up, handing you a small disposable plate with a freshly assembled s’more. His way of trying to comfort you.

“ Thanks,” you shot Thor an appreciative smile, taking the sweet treat. Jane’s boyfriend had always been kind to you and you got along well. The mutual friendliness extended to all of his baseball friends.

Well, the friendliness extended to all his friends except for one.

“ He’s telling it wrong anyway, so don’t pay it any mind,” Jane says causing you to let out a small laugh. Leave it to Jane to alleviate your nerves by just being herself.

You try to drown out Sam’s true crime retelling and focus on the sugary gooeyness on your lap. Jane and Thor snuggle into each other beside you and a small smile appears on your face at the sight. You take a bite of the s’more, letting the flavors melt into your mouth.

“ The next morning the cops led a search party into these very woods. Everyone searched day and night for three days straight. Scouting every inch, no stone unturned, to find them. And then one day, one member of the search party found something. That member being my Titi—so listen close,” Sam sets up the big reveal.

“ Wanna know what they found?” A voice you know all too well whispers into your ear from behind. The hairs on the back of your neck stand as his breath fans your ear.

“ I already know,” you grit out, turning your head to glare at him. Bucky can’t help the cocky grin that overcomes him when you look at him like that. He makes his way over the log and sits right next to you. You don’t hide the displeasure on your face.

“ Couldn’t find anyone else to annoy, James?”

“ None worth my time, sweetheart—and it's Bucky.”

You roll your eyes biting back a snarky comment. No matter the number of times he insists on you calling him by his nickname, you refuse to. Only his friends call him Bucky, and you're not friends—far from it. So to you, he’s James and nothing more.

“ We’re not friends, James. Friends don’t make you miss your biology final,” you remind him bitterly. He looks at you with slight disbelief,“ You’re still stuck on that? How is it my fault the party went until four in the morning?” You bristle at his defensiveness.

“ I don’t know. Maybe by not kicking everyone out of your apartment?” you retort, taking another bite of your s’more. Hoping to lose yourself in the sweetness of it before the distaste of his presence taints it.

“ At least the professor let you make it up…” he mutters under his breath.

“ That’s not the point,” you snip, unable to let him have the last word. You pretend to focus on Sam’s story, but really your attention is on the flames in front of you. The way they dance and crackle as if telling their own story alongside Sam’s.

Bucky stares at you, his eyes scanning every detail of your face. His favorite pastime is finding all the ways to push your buttons. There’s something about your reactions that he can’t help but want to see more of. He openly enjoys being the only one who can elicit such responses from you. Hell, you could say he was proud of it.

“ Stop it.”

“ Stop what?”

“ The staring.”

“ Don't want to.”

You turn to give him a piece of your mind but abruptly stop when you see the way he’s looking at you—or more so the way he’s examining your lips. His eyes reflecting more than just the golden flames in the bonfire. There was something deeper and not entirely unfamiliar. He had looked at you this way before, and yet it was still unrecognizable to you. An emotion you couldn’t pinpoint, but that was heartstopping nonetheless.

His hand lifts to your face, his thumb brushing away at something on the corner of your mouth. Your tongue instinctively darts out to lick your lips and remove whatever remnants of the s’more are left. Something unreadable flashes in his eyes. You wonder what he must be seeing in yours when his eyes drift from your lips to your gaze.

“ You had a little something there,” his voice has a deeper cadence to it, contrasting the cheeky grin plastered on his face. That damn grin. It’s all you need to snap out of whatever trance you were just in.

“ You’re insufferable,” you hiss out, getting up from your spot on the ground and stepping away from the bonfire. You hate how he does this—how easily he’s able to mess with you. It’s like it's his second nature to know exactly how to get a reaction from you. Almost as if he knew you better than you knew yourself.

The vulnerability of it all is what ground your gears the most. Bucky was used to this. The flirting, the back and forth, the teasing, and having girls wrapped around his finger. The last time you were in a relationship was your freshman year of college—a few years ago. It had been too long of being touch-starved that the slightest of touches or gazes brought about a yearning deep within you. One that you swore Bucky could see right through and it made you detest the man more.

You hated feeling like you were being toyed with. But above all, you hated how much you actually didn’t hate the attention he gave you.

You make your way over to one of the many trashcans around the campsite and dump the last bits of your s’more in along with the disposable plate. Your appetite for the treat long gone after his little stunt.

You use your phone as a flashlight as you walk over to where all the tents are stationed. It’s not too far from the bonfire, but far enough that the voices of everyone drown out into a low hum. A few people are already in the tents enjoying the night without the warmth of the fire.

“ Y/n! Hold up!” Jane calls out to you from behind. You face her confused expression, “ Everything okay?” You nod, your hands hiding in the pockets of your grey sweatpants,“ Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just gonna call it a night,” you say tiredly. You don’t want her to worry or keep her from enjoying her night.

“ Okay…Are you sure? Because you seemed off after Bucky—”

“ Please for the love of everything don’t mention him.”

Jane drops the subject entirely, “ Okay, okay. I won’t,” she assures you and pauses for a moment before she adds, “ By the way, I’ll be staying with Thor tonight, so you have our tent all to yourself.”

“ Oh? Oh…behave yourself, Foster,” you warn her playfully. She rolls her eyes waving off your tease,“ No promises.” You laugh together—the exchange alleviating the heaviness in your shoulders.

After a light farewell, your best friend retreats to the bonfire. You find your eyes drifting from her figure to the back of Bucky’s head. He’s still sitting in the same spot, right next to where you had sat. He was drinking away at a beer as Sam continues his story. You look away, ignoring the way your heart feels a small pang as it wonders if it would have been so bad if you had stayed.

Only Bucky had this way of infuriating you, but enticing you at the same time. A magnetic push and pull that tugs at you whenever you’re near him.

You crouch down and unzip your humble abode for the night. Gazing up at the sky before heading in. The moon is bright and full amongst the dark hazy clouds.

“ It's not bad enough to have Friday the 13th, we've gotta have a full moon too?” you grumble before entering the tent. The knowledge of being in here alone all night sounds less appealing now. You wish Sam had told a different story to set the mood for tonight.

For the next couple of hours, you lose yourself in your sketchbook. Every corner of the tent became your makeshift desk as the soft scratches of graphite filled the air. A small LED lantern casting just enough glow to guide your intricate curves and shadows across the paper. At first, you were sketching a flower you had seen earlier in the day along a trail. You don’t recognize the species, but the cluster of pretty violet petals vividly lived in your head and you wanted it forever memorialized in your sketchbook.

At some point, however, the petals turn into doodles and then unrecognizable scribbles. The creative flow taking a life of its own. You soon find yourself drawing a pair of eyes on another page. Giving them a space of their own. These eyes you recognize deep down, but they still have the same unreadable expression from earlier. Almost as if you hoped to decipher it by putting it on paper.

Maybe then it would be easier to look at them without being affected—without feeling that pull.

There’s a loud thump that echoes close to your tent. You freeze at the sound. By this point, everyone had called it a night and retreated to their sleeping arrangements. It had been at least half an hour that you hadn’t heard a single sound except for the chirping of crickets amongst a chorus of other creepy crawlers.

When no sound followed the thump you decided to ignore it—acting like you hadn’t heard a thing. And yet, your fingers swiftly moved to turn off the lantern and close your sketchbook, neatly tucking it beneath your pillow.

Another noise rang out—the skidding of dirt. And this time it was closer to your tent. Not directly outside it, but almost. You don’t know why your heart dropped or why your fingertips went cold, but they did. You tell yourself it’s probably just someone going out to use the bathroom or some other related activity.

Your body betrayed your mind as it started to feel enclosed in the tent. Like a prey caught in a trap. Hopelessly awaiting the moment the predator decided to take them out.

You swallow the lump in your throat and with numb fingers, you grab your phone. The tent shrinking around you as your heart pounded in your chest. Going out to investigate the source of the noise wasn't the smartest idea. However, continuing to be a sitting duck in the tent was distressing you more—and that helpless feeling overpowered anything else.

You slowly unzip the tent, trying to make as minimal noise as possible. You slip on your moccasins, putting one foot in front of the other as you step out into the night. Your surroundings are cast in shadows as the moon seems to be hiding behind a gloomy cluster of clouds. You look around and notice no one else is awake. Only dormant tents with sleeping residents inside accompany you in the night.

You scan the area, training your ear to see if you can pick up any noise.

That’s when you hear it—a rustling in the bushes.

You peer into the woods, your eyes narrowing hoping to center on something, but you can’t see anything. There’s a slight fog that encases the lines of trees encircling the campsite obstructing your view.

You take a few steps forward, hugging your sweater closer to your body. The outside air catches you off guard with its falling degrees. The shadows at every corner of the woods become creatures of the night if you stare at them for too long.

Why were you doing this? Why had you decided this was a good idea?

You questioned yourself. An unpleasant shiver goes up your spine at the thought of you walking straight into a creature’s claws. Your footing stumbled, and yet you found yourself walking further in the direction of the sound, the faint glow of your phone illuminating your path. You decided against using the actual flashlight on your phone as it could easily alert whatever was hiding in the foliage of the woods.

You don’t go too far from the campsite. Your legs only take you a few feet away from the perimeter of it before tensing at the way the hoot of an owl cuts through the stillness of the night. Your breath caught in your throat, and you gripped your phone tighter. The edges of it digging into your skin.

“ What are we looking for?” A voice too close for comfort whispers behind you and it causes you to shriek, your phone tumbling to the ground as you jump away from the source. Your eyes zero in on the culprit—your blood boiling when your gaze meets his ceruleans.

James Buchanan fucking Barnes.

A deep chuckle erupts from Bucky at your reaction. Not only at the way you jumped, but also at the way you’re now seething. He stands there in a basic white tee and black joggers, his hair slightly unkempt from lying on it earlier in the night.

“ What the hell is wrong with you?” You hiss, bending down to pick up your phone from the ground. The anxiety from before dissipating into irritation.

“ Me? What’s up with you? Sneaking around in the woods at night. That’s kinda creepy, sweetheart,” he jabs with a smirk. You roll your eyes, exhaling to steady your breath,“ Stop calling me that. And I'm not sneaking around—I heard something.”

“ And you came to check it out?”

“ Yeah.”

“ You have no survival instincts, do you?”

“ And you do? You're out here too.”

Bucky crosses his arms, his eyes roaming over your figure. He’s thoroughly entertained by your attempt to catch whatever is out there in your cozy outfit. It’s not exactly monster-hunting material.

“ I let my buddy have the tent for the night. He’s got a girl in there. Thought I'd sleep under the stars like nature intended,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. A wry smile appears on your face,“ Aren’t you a great friend,” you reply sarcastically. He’s about to give you a snippy retort when a branch breaks ahead of you, causing you both to snap your attention to it.

You both go silent—wondering if you’ll hear anything more. Bucky takes a few steps forward to stand in front of you. Positioning himself between you and the unknown noise.

“ Is that what you heard earlier?” He asks, his voice a hushed whisper. Your eyes drift up his form and the way his arm is slightly outstretched in your direction in a protective stance. He’s looking in the direction of where the sound came from, but then his head turns back to look at you.

It takes you a second to gather your words,“ Sort of. At first there was like a loud thud by my tent and then some rustling—and now this,” you describe the unfolding events thus far.

He frowns,“ Is your tent the one by Wanda’s?”At his question you nod,“ Yeah…why?” He tilts his head slightly as he tries to recollect something.

“ The two-person one with the purple edges?”

“ Yeah…”

His features soften, dawning on a sheepish expression. His protective stance faltering as he scratches the back of his neck,“ The noise was me then—sorry. I tripped over something while looking for a place to piss.”

“ Oh…” Is all you manage to say. Feeling utterly foolish for getting so worked up over nothing. What you had thought was something going bump in the night ended up being Bucky stumbling to relieve himself.

Another branch cracks in the murky fog. Reminding you that although the noises you heard outside your tent were explained, the ones here, not too far from you and Bucky—weren’t.

“ I’m gonna go check it out,” he takes a step forward, but you stop him. Your hand shoots out to grip the hem of his shirt,“ Don’t! Are you crazy? You’re going to get yourself killed or something!”

His eyebrows raise, not expecting you to have that reaction.“ Are you worried about me, sweetheart?” A smirk spreads across his face, a twinkle in his eye.“ As if—screw you,” you deny harsher than you intended, removing your hold from his shirt. This only provokes him more, his smirk turning into a cheeky grin,“ You wanna?”

“ You know what? I hope whatever is out there gets you.”

“ Oh, you’d miss me if it did. But don’t worry—if it gets me, I’ll make sure to let it know you’re the one worth chasing."

Bucky doesn’t give you a second to process what his words really mean. Instead, he takes out a small flashlight from the pocket of his joggers. He turns it on, shining the area ahead of him. A brazen expression is the last thing you see before he wanders into that direction of the woods as if there wasn’t potentially something dangerous up ahead.

You wanted to protest, but you didn’t. Rather, you end up standing there amongst the wilderness, watching as his form gets smaller and smaller until it disappears into the haze of the fog.

You feel uneasy as soon as you don’t see him. Your chest feels heavy with the unknown. You call out to him. Thinking maybe he’s doing this to prove something or to mess with you. When he doesn’t call back you find apprehension in the sinking pit of your stomach.

Behind you, the campsite is still in sight. The smart thing to do would be to go wake someone up—like Thor—to go after Bucky. However, your feet work faster than your mind does, pushing you to follow after him.

This time you use the flashlight on your phone to light your path. The luminescence cuts through the fog as you trudge through it. Leaves crunching beneath your feet, and hands outstretched lightly to use the passing trees as support to persist onward.

You walk for a good few minutes before you finally spot him. He’s standing by a tall pine tree, his right hand tracing over something etched into the bark.

“ James! Come back to the campsite!” You whisper yelled, approaching him. He hummed,“ So you are worried about me,” the smugness in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you. When he turns to face you his eyes tell you he was expecting you. Like he knew in the end your stubbornness and pride wouldn’t matter because you’d end up following after him after all.

You are worried about him. He needs no further proof than your actions.

There was a prickling of annoyance building up in your system. More than anything, you wanted to get out of the woods as soon as possible. The campsite feels like a haven awaiting your return.

“ Can you stop being so insufferably cocky for one second and just come back to the camp before I drag your ass back?” You say through gritted teeth. You wanted to have more bark to your bite, but the inkling dread of what could be out here stopped you from crossing that line.

He stepped closer to you, the glow of his flashlight reflecting in his eyes in tiny glimmers,“ Why? I thought you didn't care if ‘whatever is out there’ got me.”

“ I don’t—but I’d hate to be an accomplice to that thing.”

“ Admit it. You’re worried about me.”

By now Bucky was mere inches away from you. Having slowly sauntered right up to you. His eyes were daring you to speak the truth—his arrogant smile tempting you to do even more.

“ I came to get you back, but if you’re determined to stay here then stay,” you huff, spinning on your heels to storm off.

Bucky’s hand reaches out and encloses your wrist gently. Just enough to keep you from walking away. He sighs with defeated ire.

“ Sweetheart, why won't you admit—” he’s cut off by the swift movement of something dashing past the both of you. He immediately pulls you in closer, his arms encasing you protectively—his body a shield. One arm is wrapped around your waist while the other holds your head. Your own body leans into his as if bracing for impact.

From the corner of your eye, you can see the culprit of the racket. A deer dashing through the woods like it had somewhere to be. You held back a laugh at the revelation.

This is what had you so worried this whole time? A deer?

Even so, your heart races in your chest. And Bucky has you so tightly pressed into his that you can feel the way his own heart is thrumming rapidly. Both of your breaths work to steady from their instability as you realize there is nothing truly to be worried about.

You stay like this for what seems like an eternity. Finding comfort in each other’s arms. The fog dances around your figures as if pushing you closer. The tips of your fingers tingle from where they’re pressed at his chest.

When you finally register whose touch it is, you pull away. Bucky reluctantly lets you go. His arms awkwardly falling to his sides. You don’t know what to say. He doesn’t know where to start.

Why was his instinct to protect you? To keep you from harm’s way?

And why had you felt the safest all night in his arms?

You swallow the questions that desire to escape. There’s a part of you that feels like you should thank him, but then the other part feels stupid for wanting to do so. Knowing how much it would feed his ego to vindicate him as a hero.

“ Guess it was just a deer, huh?” Bucky tries to cut through whatever tension is starting to build.

“ Yeah…silly us…” you reply, half-heartedly. Your mind still reeling from his touch.

You both go quiet again. The silence welcomes you where words fail to.

Out of nowhere, you feel a tiny bead land on your head. Followed by one on your hand and then your cheek. It's beginning to drizzle. The rain cutting through the trees and promising to kiss every inch of your skin.

“ We should get going,” Bucky says, his palm cupped to catch a few droplets.

“ Yeah, that’s a good idea,” you agree, clearing your throat. In other circumstances, Bucky would rejoice and point out how, for once, you aren’t arguing with him. But not right now—not at this moment. Not when the memory of holding each other stirred something within you both.

No, now instead you walk back to the campsite in silence. You’re a few steps ahead as Bucky decides to tow along at a slower pace. Seemingly lost in thought.

When you’re back at the campsite your eyes dart to your tent. It’s within reach. A safety you can hideout in until the emotions Bucky arose in you fade away.

“ Can I chill in your tent for a while? Just until the rain stops,” Bucky surprises you with his request. Until you remember he gave up his tent to his friend for the night.

“ What? No,” your response is immediate. The thought of you and Bucky alone in your tent causes many scenarios to run through your head. You didn’t think you’d make it through the night with him in it. You were barely hanging on as it is.

“ I just saved your life.”

“ You did not.”

“ Did too.”

“ James, you absolutely did not–”

“ Please,” his soft plea tugs at the very part of you that wants to say yes. He’s not the kind of guy to beg, but he’ll do anything to not stand out in the cold rain. You being in an enclosed space with him was just a bonus.

An extremely tantalizing bonus.

“ Fine…but only until the rain stops,” you concede. You weren’t heartless enough to leave him out in the rain.

You zip open the tent and climb inside. You remove your moccasins and leave them by the entrance. The inside is spacious enough for the two of you, but you still find yourself going into the furthest right corner of it. You sit crossed-legged as you turn on the small LED lantern to illuminate the tent with its muted glow. He makes his way inside, his hair glistening from the rain. He leaves his muddied slides by your moccasins.

“ This tent is way nicer than the one Sam and I got,” he comments, running a hand through his hair to dispel the droplets. He’s trying to make light conversation, keeping his distance as he sits in the corner by the entrance diagonally from you.

“ Jane’s family is really into camping so she had this one laying around…” you mention. The oddity of small talk between you fills the space with a foreign dynamic. The rain goes from a sprinkle to a pour. Hitting the top of the fabric cacoon in harsh strokes.

He chooses to pivot the conversation.“ Do you have everything ready for fall semester?” He asks you, maneuvering to sit with his knees bent, his shirt hiking up the smallest bit to expose the skin at his hips. You avert your gaze when your heart does a little flip.

“ Almost. I still have one or two textbooks to get,” you reply, playing with a few loose threads of the blanket beneath you. Anything to not have your eyes wander back to him.

He scoffs lightly,“ You already got your textbooks? There’s no way. I always get ‘em after the first week.” Unlike you, he can’t seem to keep his pretty blues away from you. Your features heightened in the gentle sheen of the lantern. Intricate shadows scattered across your figure that made you look ethereal. The way his heart hammered in his chest romanticizing the sight of you.

“ That's because I’m responsible and you’re not.”

“ I am responsible. As captain of the baseball team—”

“ Spare me the team leader speech, please,” you groan, stopping him from continuing. There’s only so much you can take for one night. And hearing Bucky light up as he talks about the one thing he’s passionate about—the one thing that humanizes him to you beyond his usual cheeky self. It would do more to you than just make your heart do a little flip.

You’d end up saying or doing something you wouldn’t be able to take back.

“ Look, Y/n, I’m just trying to make conversation here. You don’t have to be so difficult all the time. Just talk to me,” Bucky brings you out of your thoughts not only by his exasperated tone, but by the way your name rolls off his tongue. He so rarely calls you by it. He’s called you sweetheart endlessly—and he’s even slipped a few sunshines in the mix—but your name was foreign to his vocabulary.

Bucky is usually good at dealing with your constant back and forth. Some days it's the only thing he looks forward to. However, right now it was irritating him how much you pushed back. He wanted you to give in. To what, he wasn’t sure. But he wondered what normalcy felt like with you—what just a damn friendly conversation felt like.

You sigh, meeting his eyes.“ I don’t want to talk. Sorry, I think I’m just tired. Maybe we should go to bed,” you suggest, hoping that if he says yes you can sleep away the bubbling of emotions in your chest.

You can see the way he contemplates something, biting the inside of his bottom lip. Now he’s the one holding back. A beat passes and you nervously wonder if he’ll turn down your suggestion.

“ Fine—it's late anyway. But only if I get to sleep next to you. I promise I’ll keep my distance. It’s just there’s water leaking through the zipper at the entrance,” he mentions, his hand motioning to the entry. Your eyes dart to where he’s pointing and sure enough there’s a small puddle of water pooling by it. Not knowing how long the rain would continue, you knew you had to deal with the issue.

You grab Jane’s camping gear that holds numerous amount of supplies in all of its various pockets. She always came extra prepared no matter the occasion. You take out a washcloth, scooting over to the entrance to soak up the forming puddle. You decide to leave it there neatly tucked underneath where the water was finding its way in.

“ Alright, but if you snore I'm kicking you out,” you warn, but it’s more playful than serious. Something to lighten the mood before you go to bed. A way to dissipate whatever tension’s built up so you'd be able to fall asleep.

It’s hard to cut through the tension and alleviate its symptoms when your shelter from the storm seems to shrink the more you chat with Bucky. And now sitting right next to him—shoulder to shoulder—it seems like a damn near impossible task.

" I’ll take my chances. But just so you know, I don’t go down without a fight,” he winks at you, your shoulders brushing. Your heart rate picks up and it takes everything within you to stare into his eyes and not focus on the way that simple contact sent a shiver down your spine.

His eyes drift to your lips causing your breath to hitch. The implications of where this could go are enough to pull you away from his spell.

“ Goodnight,” you choke out. Subtly rushing over to your sleeping bag and settling into it. You don’t see when he shakes his head, but you do hear how he chuckles lowly. He mumbles something under his breath, but you can’t pick it up.

He makes his way over to Jane’s sleeping bag, but lays on top of it instead of nestling into it. Choosing to cover himself only in the maroon fleece blanket that was draped over your body too.

“ Goodnight,” he finally says, his body turning to face away from you. You respond by turning off the lantern. The space is now engulfed by darkness. Only the faintest of light shines in from the outside, letting your eyes trace the outlines of objects.

You turn to your side. Your back facing his. You take a deep breath, concentrating on the sound of the rain to hopefully lull you into a slumber. But the air felt too thick and your body was burning up from the heat radiating under the blanket. There was a good foot or so separating your body and Bucky’s. And yet, you could feel the heat radiating off of him as if he was pressed up right against you.

It was too much. You swore you started sweating, so you shuffled under the covers and out of the sleeping bag. Every movement slow and deliberate as if to not snap the rope keeping the palpable tension in place.

When only the plush fleece covered your body, the heat radiated less. But the fluttering of the blanket caused Bucky’s cologne to waft your way. A pleasant scent of musky woodiness with a hint of something that was entirely him. You gripped the cover tightly and counted to ten in your head. You were going mad.

“ Would you stop hogging the blanket? ” Bucky muttered from beside you. There were a lot of things he wanted to tell you to stop doing. Because you and your constant fidgeting were driving him crazy. Every fiber of his being holding back from doing something to snap that rope.

You didn’t realize you had been pulling it your way until he mentioned it. Your grip on it loosened,“ Sorry. I wasn’t hogging it though,” you argued for no reason other than to fill the silence.

“ Yes, you were.”

“ No, I wasn’t.”

There was something about the proximity of your bodies that made the blanket seem smaller. Like there was no possible way it could equally cover both of your sleeping forms. Maybe this is what caused you to then tug at it, however, he holds it firmly to himself too.

Persistently you pull at the blanket again. He pulls back—a tug of war ensues between you. You can hear him huff in the darkness, but you're not letting up. Bucky couldn't care less about the blanket. He only cared about not letting you get the upper hand. His competitive streak showing.

While you solely really didn’t want to let him win.

You wrap the end of the blanket around yourself—almost like a cacoon. The delicate fleece encases you. Leaving the bare minimum amount for Bucky to cover himself with.

“ You have got to be one of the most stubborn people I have ever met in my goddamn life,” he practically growls as he yanks forcefully on the blanket. A tiny yelp escapes you as you get pulled along with it.

You underestimated the strength of the star pitcher.

You end up on top of him. The blanket now an extra cushy barrier between your bodies. In the dim light, your eyes lock, and you can faintly see the outline of a boyish grin on his face. You don’t move away. There’s like an invisible force that keeps you there. Your body pressed against his feeling his warmth tenfold. You can’t tell if either of you are breathing because all you're aware of now is how his heart beats in time with yours.

“ You’re insufferable you know that?” you swallow hard, your voice lacking its usual bite.

“ You sure about that, sweetheart?” he challenges, his voice barely above a whisper. His lips brushing against yours with feather-light contact.

When had your lips gotten so close?

You don’t know who leans in first. The one who finally breaks the standoff because your lips seem to meet at the same time. The kiss is sweet, but with a slight hesitance to it. As if neither of you are completely sure the other wants this. Or more like neither of you believes this is happening. However, when his hands grip the back of your thighs, sliding your legs from on top of him to his sides so you straddle him—you believe it. And when your hands find themselves threading in his hair—he believes it.

One kiss that tests the waters turns into one that slowly sinks into the feeling. Until the two of you fully submerge into the depths of whatever has been simmering between you for what seems like too long. Delicate kisses that get more heated—more intense as your lips continue to meet. Bucky beams at the fact that you’re no longer pushing, but pulling into him. His craving for you only increasing now that he’s had a taste.

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, slow and gentle. Asking for permission to deepen the kiss. Bucky Barnes isn’t the type to be slow and gentle—but when it comes to you he finds himself wanting to relish every second he gets. Not knowing when he’ll get another moment like this with you again.

Your lips part enough for him to slip his tongue in to truly kiss you like he wanted to. As soon as you grant access he takes full opportunity to explore every corner of your mouth. His tongue molding with yours in fervor. Your fingers lightly tug at his hair while his hands roam your body memorizing every curve and dip. Wherever he gripped and caressed, his touch left heat in its wake.

A heat you had to contain before it consumed you both.

“ If you think you’re getting lucky tonight—think again. This is the most you’ll get,” You say breathlessly, pulling away to help your lungs remember what oxygen is.

He groans, breath panting, the outline of his pout evident in the dim light,“ Don’t do this to me, sweetheart. Can’t leave me like this.” His voice a desperate whine that allured you to keep going.

“ Too bad. You're dreaming if you think this is going any further.”

“ God, you don’t wanna know what I've dreamed about.”

“ Shut up,” you cut off his groan with another kiss. Fierce enough to silence him immediately. He hopes you shut him up like this more often.

Your lips meet again in a hasty lock. No hesitation now as your tongues meet quicker. You seem to be obsessed with his hair as you run your fingers through it again. He shivers at the touch. His hands slide under your sweater to trail along your soft skin. Keeping his hands along your back and waist. Teetering around the boundary you drew, so he didn’t get carried away. But it was hard when kissing you felt as good as throwing the perfect game—maybe even better.

He realizes the emotions you bring out of him are worth a lifetime waiting for.

He pulls away this time to catch his breath, his hands sliding up your body to cup your face,“ I’m in no rush, sweetheart. I’ve got all the time in the world to take it all the way—make you fall for me.”

You hum, leaning into his touch,“ You seem sure of yourself. ”

His voice is rough yet affectionate when he speaks,“ I’m sure of you, sweetheart. You’re worth every second, and I’m not stopping until you see it too.”

He gives you one final tender kiss. One that's full of promise for the future. You weren’t sure if it was his words or the meaning in the kiss that stole your breath away.

After a few seconds, you both pull away. Separating your bodies from each other to provide that much-needed space before lines were crossed.

“ Goodnight, Bucky,” you say, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how you would keep your hands and lips to yourself come tomorrow. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat when you called him by his nickname. Bringing a genuine smile to his face, loving the way it sounded coming from you.

“ Goodnight, Y/n.”

Even after saying goodnight, the two of you can’t fall asleep immediately. You try to, but there are small moments in the night where you drift back to each other. Where in the darkness your lips meet again and again—satiating the tension in parts. Where your hands find themselves under the covers and layers of clothing. Flaming the fans of desire just enough so it doesn’t completely burn out, but smoldering to be reignited at any moment’s chance.

You don’t realize when you fall asleep. Your eyelids growing heavy at some point tangled up in his body under the covers. Your face in the crook of his neck. His head resting on top of yours. Your bodies fit like puzzle pieces like they were meant to be connected in every way.

It’s not until that morning when you wake up and find yourself in his arms, snuggled into his side, that the events of last night sink in. You pull away the tiniest bit. Merely enough to be able to get a look at him. The brown strands of his hair tousled and clinging to his forehead. The slope of his nose, his dark lashes fanned delicately against his skin, and the tiniest parting of his lips. He looks peaceful—almost angelic as he slumbers.

You’re itching to sketch the image in front of you.

You can’t stop yourself from reaching out to touch the strands at his forehead. It’s enough to have his eyes flutter open, their color brighter in the daylight. He gives you a lazy smile the instant he realizes last night wasn’t a dream and you really were here, nestled in his arms.

No words were exchanged, but both of you were conscious of the line you had drawn last night. And yet, you both also knew that in time, that line would be crossed again and again. Until the line blurred into oblivion.

#slashersummerwc #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky fluff #bucky imagine #college bucky barnes #bucky college au

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brattyspence · 5 months ago

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hellllllllooooo! i've had this idea for awhile and nobody else has done it when i've requested it ? pretty much spencer is super old fashioned (as everyone has seen in the show) but he kinda takes it to the next level by making a sex tape with reader on a video camera because he doesn't wanna use his phone!! and it could start off with spencer taking pictures of reader on a polaroid camera because she's wearing pretty lingerie and he wants to capture the moment :)) have a great day !!

take a picture, it'll last longer | s.reid

summary: spencer is welcomed home from a case by reader's new lingerie set, and he decides to take a picture to capture the memory.. tags: suggestive fluff, reader wears lingerie, uhhhhhh. taking nudes. not beta read a/n: hi anon sorry this took 12 years to publish and also sorry that it sucks and only hits part of your request. i'm not ready to write actual smut again idt but were getting there. love u and thank u for requesting! word count: 700+ masterlist

You were only half listening to his ramblings as you stepped backwards into the doorway of the bedroom.

“You wouldn't-” kiss “believe how-” kiss “rare this-” kiss “kind of case is,” he rambled. His fingertips pressed against your hips, guiding you backwards. With a final step, you felt the back of your knees brush the bed, and with practiced ease, you found yourself suddenly hoisted up, falling back against the comforter.

“Mhm,” you mumbled. He swiftly kicked off his shoes, and then removed with watch with a single motion, tossing it somewhere on the nightstand. You felt the bed dip underneath you as he climbed over you, his nose brushing yours to encourage you to tilt your head back.

“And it was truly-” kiss “a complete improbability that-” kiss “we caught him when we did.”

You were growing impatient with his ramblings. Spencer had been away for four days, somewhere in rural Ohio, and you'd had ample time to clean the apartment, wash the bedsheets, shop for a new matching set, and then finish the day with the longest shower you'd had in recent memory. You were scrubbed and lotioned and done up just for him, and he was taking his time.

“Yeah?” You replied, linking your arms over his shoulders.

“Yeah,” he nodded, this time trailing his kisses down your jaw and along the side of your neck. “Because statistically-”

“Spence,” you whined. “Come on.”

“I'm getting there,” he chuckled. He let his fingertips trail up and down your thighs for a moment.

“Taking too long,” you huffed.

“And when-” kiss “have I ever not made that worth your while?”

“But there's a surprise,” you huffed. You looked up at him, a hint of a pout on your lips, which was only met with another soft chuckle.

His fingertips trailed further up your side this time, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake, stopping when they met the lace edge of your bra. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly in acknowledgment. The palms of his hands warmed your skin.

“This surprise?”

You nodded emphatically, pulling your lower lip between your teeth as he thumbed over the fabric for another moment, his eyes still locked on you in thought.

In an instant, he drew your shirt over your head, letting the fabric fall to the floor somewhere. His hands settled back into their spot against your hips, his touch still warm and possessive.

“You don't want to see the bottoms?” You asked.

After a moment, his fingers looped around your waistband, gently tugging away the fabric of your shorts and again discarding them somewhere to the abyss that was the bedroom floor. He watched you carefully, studying eyes working to remember every detail as he always did.

“I don’t want you to take them off,” he said, lazily looping his fingers into yours.

“That’s no fun,” you smiled. “The whole point was that you would take them off.

“Yeah, but… you look so pretty like this,” he replied. He looked away for a split second, and you saw a hint of mischief in his gaze. It was a rare sight for him.

“What’re you thinking?” You asked, tugging his hand.

He leaned over you one more time, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before stepping away.

“I had an idea.”

You watched him make his way across the bedroom, where he quickly sifted through a drawer. He returned a moment later, instant camera in one hand, quickly configuring the device as he stood at the foot of the bed.

It was a gift, one he’d accepted reluctantly. You’d insisted that he needed something to capture moments with, especially if he would continue to refuse a smartphone. He had always insisted it was useless to him; an eidetic memory could work just the same.

“That was not why I bought you that,” you giggled, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“So?” he replied. “Lie back down.”

You huffed, falling back into the comforter. You tossed an arm over your face as he raised the device, angling it towards you, quickly snapping the picture.

“You're ridiculous.” You giggled. “I thought you didn’t need a camera.”

You listened as the camera dispensed the picture, which he quickly put away for safe keeping.

“No one needs anything. I’m not allowed to take pictures of my beautiful girlfriend?”

“You can do whatever you want,” you smiled, watching him climb up onto the bed. You took his face in your hands as he hovered over you. “I just want you to admit that I was right.”

“You were right,” he sighed. “But you know what they say. Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

#spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid #criminal minds #fluff #smut #asks #requests #my things!

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itoshiierae · 10 days ago

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omgg i love ur writing so much 😭😭 can you write how the bllk boys will react when theyre jealous??

with isagi (AGHHH HUSBAND), rin, kaiser, nagi, and ur favss?

how the bllk boys will react when they get jealous

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

ᡣ𐭩 ft: isagi yoichi, rin itoshi, michael kaiser, nagi seishiro, sae itoshi, otoya eita

ᡣ𐭩 notes: hii!! and thank you 🥹<33 ..anywayyy, so like i know some of them might be repetitive but let’s be so fr right now… kaiser is literally the only one i can see being openly upfront when he’s jealous 💀😭 the rest??? oh they’re subtle about it. sulking, brooding & silently spiraling in the corner. but to say it out loud??? mhm prob not HAHAH

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

✿ ISAGI YOICHI ✿ (THE SILENT SPIRAL)

isagi doesn’t mean to take it out on you. he really doesn’t. but when he sees you talking to some other guy who he deems is a little too suave, laughing like you don’t notice the way that guy keeps leaning in & trying to flirt with you — something bitter twists in his stomach. and then he immediately goes quiet.. but he’s not necessarily mad at you, he’s just wondering if maybe that guy’s cooler, taller, more interesting — someone you’d actually pick if you weren’t already his.

he keeps it bottled until it slips out later in a low, too-casual murmur: “did you have fun talking with him?” and it stings — not because he’s accusing you, but because he’s scared he’s not enough.

✿ RIN ITOSHI ✿ (THE PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE SOFTBOY)

you can always tell when rin’s jealous. not because he mentions anything about it, but because his whole body starts to tense — his expression darkens, his eyes narrow, and he starts pulling his sleeves down almost as if they’re armor. another guy accidentally brushes against you and he stiffens almost instantly, eyes flicking down to where his hand lingered too long.

when you ask what’s wrong, he just shrugs and mutters, “nothing,” but you know him better & you’ll never fail to notice the storm brewing behind his silence.

✿ MICHAEL KAISER ✿ (THE OBVIOUS AND BOLD ONE)

kaiser doesn’t hide it. his jealousy is bold, vocal, and immediate. he gets possessive fast — not in a controlling way, but in a “choose me, now” kind of desperation masked as arrogance. he’ll call out the guy you’re talking to — challenge him for your attention, and when he pulls you closer, it’s not just to show off infront of the guy, it’s to reassure himself that you’re ALWAYS his.

he’s basically the type to cut through the conversation with no absolute shame in the way he asserts himself, not even an attempt to mask the possessiveness curling in his chest.

✿ NAGI SEISHIRO ✿ (THE SECRETLY HURT SWEETHEART)

he won’t say a word, but his silence will say everything. nagi seems unbothered on the surface, but jealousy hits him where it hurts most — in his quiet sense of belonging to you. he won’t confront you straight on or lash out infront of you. instead, he’ll grow distant, a little quieter, a little colder — and you’ll notice because he always used to be clingy around you, always used to reach for your hand first — so the moment he pulls away without a word, that’s how you know it got to him.

“it’s fine. I mean… if he makes you laugh like that, who am I to say anything?”

✿ SAE ITOSHI ✿ (THE EMOTIONALLY DISTANT AVOIDER)

when sae feels jealous, his natural instinct is to withdraw. he won’t confront the feeling or immediately cause a scene. instead, he’ll become emotionally distant — quietly removing himself from the situation before it touches a nerve he doesn’t want to acknowledge. he convinces himself it’s better this way. that if he steps back, this feeling will eventually fade on its own. but deep down, he hates that someone else could make you smile the way that he makes you smile.

“you’re free to do whatever you want, i just thought I meant a little more.”

✿ OTOYA EITA ✿ (THE FLIRTY OVER-COMPENSATOR)

he turns the charm up to hide the ache he refuses to name. otoya is the type to cover his jealousy by being extra clingy with you infront of the other guy. he flirts with you harder, starts being extra touchy & he says your name with just enough weight to make it feel like a claim & so that the other guy understands his place — “wow babe, so that’s your type?? should i start dressing like that now? wanna see me in a floral shirt and boat shoes?” — but beneath all the teasing, he’s actually afraid. he doesn’t know how to ask if you still want him. so he keeps pretending, hoping you’ll still choose him before the facade he puts on cracks.

#bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock #bllk x you #blue lock headcanons #blue lock x female reader #blue lock x reader #bllk headcanons #blue lock rin #rin itoshi #sae itoshi #eita otoya #otoya eita x reader #rin itoshi x reader #nagi seishiro #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader

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eunnieboo · 7 months ago

Text

IYHM ask replies! (2/3)

🌸 @csevet asked:

hi my copy of iyhm just came in and my fiancee and i snuggled up and read the whole thing cover to cover and CRIED!!! i love when lesbians 💕💞💝💗💝💗💘💞💖💗💝

AHHHHH thank you SO much!!! OMGGGGG 🥺 live laugh lesbian..... 💞💗💖💕💖💞💕💖💗

🌸 @chrysalis-the-butterfly asked:

I read If You'll Have Me a few months ago and I loved it! Your art is so pretty and Momo and PG are such cool characters! 🥰 If you're okay with sharing, I'd be interested to hear what inspired you during the creative process? Were there any pieces of media or any other characters which influenced the formation of Momo and PG? Or did you do your own thing?

oh my gosh! thank you!! i really love character interactions and relationship dynamics, so i wanted to depict two girls who seemed like opposites - one cool and laid-back, the other soft and sweet. after a while they started to take on a life of their own, and i thought it'd be wonderful if their story could evoke the feeling of a shoujo romance!

i had a lot of things on my mind when i wrote the script... friendship, intimacy, communication... communication can be so hard! sometimes it's harder with someone you're close to because their opinion is so important to you. and what happens when you've got a character who's non-confrontational and has low self-esteem + someone who prefers actions over words, and would rather burn bridges than admit to feeling vulnerable? how would they get past that? i wanted to write their flaws as believable, and how their life experiences have shaped the way they think about themselves / the way they respond to personal conflict... but also how they learn from each other and grow ❤️ tysm for the question!!

@bisexualgoof asked:

Hi Eunnie! I just finished reading “If You’ll Have Me” and let me tell you, it was spectacular! I saw it in a local bookstore the other day and it was a no brainer to grab. The characters are so fun, the story is beautiful and heartfelt, and honestly every character is attractive… I especially fell in love with the pages of the books without words, especially 312-313, it made me cry. Such beautiful art! I related to PG’s annoyance with her long hair, I felt very seen with her comments. I’ve definitely said “I’d like to forget” so many times myself, right to my butch heart haha. Thank you for sharing this story with the world, and thank you in particularly for your acknowledgment at the end of the book, it made me feel seen. What an amazing love story, hope to see more of this adorable couple in the future!

oh my goodness!! this is so lovely and wonderful and ahhh T_T thank you so very much. it's such a dream, having these girls be out in the world with their personalities and backstories revealed at last! and i'm so happy to hear about the cast and side characters, i love designing people hehe ♥ i'll definitely keep drawing this couple, alongside more sapphic couples that are to come 😍 thank you!!

🌸 @skittles-rainbow-cat asked:

HI HI HI!!! you’ve been one of my fave artists forever and i just got done with iyhm and it’s sooooo amazing im in love with it. also i think strawberry blonde by chloe moriondo fits mono and pg very well :] i hope you’re having a good day and thank you for all your art it heals me in many ways <3333

HIIII omg!!! thank you so much! this song is so cuteeee oh my gosh this line:

Takes my hand in hers when the lights aren’t on Smaller than mine and oh god I am gone

it's so sweet ;_; thank you forever, i hope you're having a wonderful day!! <3 <3 <3

🌸 @lord-of-the-froggies asked:

Howdy Eunnie! I know you're probably swamped with work right now, but I just wanna let you know that I got my copy of your book today!! I'm gonna start reading it right away, it looks and feels amazing. From a fellow Washington artist to another--congratulations on such a huge achievement!

yay hello fellow washingtonian! and fellow artist!! thank you so much for your kind words 🥺 and i'm so glad the book got to you safely! wishing you a happy read~

🌸 Anonymous asked:

I just found your art today and after scrolling through your stuff I went and pre-ordered your book. I'm so excited!!

omggg thank you that means so much!!! ;_; <3

🌸 @ddooyoung asked:

I got my (signed!) copy of the book, and I love it SO MUCH. It's everything I was hoping and more. I love finally getting to know them, especially Momo. Since the first time I saw them, I thought Momo was a lot like me and now I have confirmation 😆 Thank you so much for writing such a wonderful story!!! I'm excited for everything you do 💗

WAHH thank you so much!! yesss i'm so overjoyed to finally share their story after so long! i hope the signature turned out okay, i was very nervous signing books for the first time (shaky hand and everything) 😱 i think next time it would be fun to make a custom stamp and stamp a doodle next to my signature hehe. thank you again!!! 💕

🌸 Anonymous asked:

I somehow missed the news about your having created a whole damn book?? was just flipping through yu & me books's holiday gift guide and did a double take when I saw priscilla and momo!! zoomed in and sure enough, there was your name at the bottom! congrats on ihym and congrats on being featured on rec lists from shops as cool as yu & me 🎉😍

omggg thank you thank you!! 🥰 AHHH yu & me books looks so amazing! i've been to new york just once but if i ever get to go back i have to visit them... i'm always looking for indie bookstores to throw my money at 😤

🌸 Anonymous asked:

1. Will there be an “if you’ll have me” sequel? 2. Is Momo her full name or a Nick name? If it’s a Nick name what is her full name? Thank you i love your work! ❤️😊

ahh there's no sequel planned as of right now! but i'd love to make one if i get the chance... i have some ideas that i think would be fun <3 and momo gardner is her full name! i liked gardner because it made me think of flowers ☺️❤️ thank you so much!!

🌸 @upsidedown-shadow-dreamer asked:

Hello, long time fan here. If You'll Have Me was delivered an hour ago and I've already finished my first read. OMG it's AMAZING. I love the story, the beautiful art, the inner thoughts, the pacing, the page color changes for back story… Just major WOW. I hope you are so proud of this work. I'm already looking forward to reading it again. Thank you!!!

this is sooooo AHHHHH T_T i'm in tears. i can't tell you how happy and thrilled i am to hear this!!! it's so encouraging and uplifting and ahh!! i want to make more stories... and just knowing that this book will be read by the same person more than once, omg! it's truly the highest of praise. thank you from the bottom of my heart <333

🌸 Anonymous asked:

Hello!! I just remembered I could borrow graphic novels as e-books from my local library, found IYHM, devoured the entire thing in one sitting, then went through your tags so I could look at all your other IYHM art, and I was wondering if you'll make more stories about Momo and PG because I can't get enough of them! Absolutely obsessed with these two and I love seeing them so happy together 💖💖💖💖

hello!! oh i'm absolutely over the moon about this! i can definitely see myself making a follow-up book if i'm so lucky 🙏 but i'll keep on drawing more minicomics and illustrations no matter what!! thank you so much for this wonderful message 💕💕💕💕

🌸 Anonymous asked:

hi!! love love love your art!!! do you think we can expect to see another graphic novel about momo and priscilla in the future?

🌸 Anonymous asked:

I’ve read IYHM so many times already and I absolutely loved it!!!! Are you planning on writing another book with Momo and PG? Is is there a way we can buy more of your stories?

thank you both so much!!!! <3 a sequel is actually one of the ideas i pitched for my second book! my editor cautioned against it in case IYHM didn't perform well, so i ended up going in a different direction - but my fingers are crossed for future opportunities 😤 realistically, it will probably depend on sales... but for the record, i'd want to do one regardless of the numbers...

i have one more book coming out, which i'm working on right now! the timeline is a bit up in the air atm but i'll try to keep everyone posted. making a book is so slow but i'm so grateful to you all for waiting 🥺💛

🌸 @randomqueernoun asked:

Do you make webcomics for other apps/websites? If yes where can I find them and what do I search in them to find your comics?

ahh not at the moment! but thank you SO much for the interest! one of my biggest goals right now is to set up a website where i have all my work in one place, and that would definitely be the place where i post future webcomics 👀

also, just as an aside... i want to make webcomics so bad. i think after my next book, i might take a break from traditional publishing to do that. sometimes i can't believe i'm drawing hundreds of pages i can't post... i'm like, how are people supposed to read this if i can't show them? how will they know?! ahh it kills me... but yes... someday!!!

part 3 to come~

#iyhm #replies #csevet #chrysalis-the-butterfly #bisexualgoof #skittles-rainbow-cat #lord-of-the-froggies #ddooyoung #upsidedown-shadow-dreamer #randomqueernoun #anon

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velarisdusk · 14 days ago

Text

The Force That Binds

Azriel x Reader

Day 3: Fate / Choice @sjmxreaderweek summary: Under the glow of Starfall, fate calls—but you don't answer. Azriel reaches for it, the bond thrumming between you, waiting. But the night is long, and you don't reach back. word count: 4.9k content: [ explicit language, alcohol (drinking, intoxication), verbal conflict, physical conflict (grabbing, restraint, mentions of bruising), emotional distress, toxic relationship dynamics ] author's note: this doesnt have anything to do with the main point of this fic but like,, man i'd LOVE to go clubbing with the IC they'd be so fun bruh especially drunk like come on (oh also i know they dont have speakers and subwoofers in prythian but suspend your disbelief for a bit pls thank u)

The night hums with life, thick with the scent of spiced wine and citrus, undercut by the faint acrid bite of burning cedar. Laughter spills through the streets, and the sky glows with distant light, only hours away from the celestial dance of spirits streaking across the heavens. Feyre’s laughter is bright as she spins beneath the starlight, the fabric of her dress catching the glow, shimmering like mist scattered in the wind.

It’s the kind of night that’s meant for forgetting. And maybe, just maybe, for a little while, you can forget, too.

But the air around you isn’t only filled with laughter. There’s an unmistakable weight pressing at the edges of your awareness, thick and inescapable. A presence that lingers, that clings to your skin like an unseen touch.

Azriel.

His shadows shift with restless energy, moving with a mind of their own, as if mirroring the tension coiled within him. Even when your back is turned, even when you’re wrapped up in conversation with Feyre or Mor, you can feel the weight of his stare—unwavering, unrelenting.

The bond hums between you, a quiet, insistent thing. A tether neither of you asked for. It’s been like this for months, this fragile, volatile limbo between what you are and what you refuse to acknowledge. And you hate it. Hate the way it’s changed everything. Hate the way it’s changed him.

Azriel was your friend. Once. The one who would stand beside you in silence when words weren’t needed, the one who knew you better than you knew yourself. There were no expectations, no need to define what you had. He was your constant, your anchor in all the ways that mattered.

But now?

Now, he’s your mate.

And you never wanted a mate. Never wanted to be bound to anyone, least of all him—someone who deserves more than what you’re willing to give. You’ve tried to push it down, bury it, ignore the way it pulls at you in quiet moments, but it’s always there. A whisper in the back of your mind. A weight in your chest. A force neither of you knows how to handle.

Feyre’s fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you into the crowd, into the music thrumming through the courtyard. “Come on,” she urges, her smile wide, breathless from laughter. “You’ve been in your head all night.”

The music vibrates beneath your skin, the press of bodies around you a blur of movement and heat. Mor twirls, golden hair catching in the glow of the lanterns strung high above, her eyes flashing with mischief as she winks at you.

You lift your drink to your lips, the golden burn curling through your veins, smoothing the jagged edges of your thoughts. You let it anchor you here, in this moment, where nothing exists beyond the steady pulse of the music and the warmth of your friends at your side.

For a little while, you let yourself believe it’s enough.

You dance. You laugh. You feel the weight of the night wrap around you like silk, thick with starlight and the taste of freedom. But even as you move, even as you lose yourself in the rhythm, you feel his gaze like a phantom touch against your spine.

Watching. Waiting.

You exhale, tilting your head back, willing the weight of him away.

Mor slides an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. “You’re thinking too much again,” she teases, voice loud over the music.

Feyre laughs, nudging you playfully. “Don’t tell me you’re getting all broody on us. That’s Az’s job.”

It’s meant as a joke—harmless, lighthearted—but something in your chest tightens anyway. You force a smirk, shaking your head. “Please,” you scoff, taking another sip of your drink. “I’d sooner let Cassian style my hair.”

Laughter rings out around you, bright and easy. Mor says something that gets lost in the music, but you catch the tail end of it before she walks away—something about finding someone to take home tonight.

And then—

“Did I hear my name?”

Cassian’s voice, warm and amused, cuts through the haze. He steps into the circle, the starlight catching on the sharp planes of his face. His shirt is undone at the collar, his hair mussed like he’s already spent hours reveling in the night’s festivities. He looks every bit the warrior at ease—grinning, easygoing, utterly in his element.

He arches a brow, smirking as he rakes a hand through his hair. “For the record, I’d do a fantastic job with your hair.”

Feyre snorts. “You’d have her looking like she flew through a storm.”

Cassian gasps, appalled. “I’ll have you know, my braiding skills are unmatched.”

“Oh, that’s true,” Feyre muses, tilting her head. “You did do a great job on that doll’s hair for Nyx.”

You blink. “Wait. You braid Nyx’s dolls’ hair?”

Cassian glares at Feyre like she’s betrayed him. “That was classified information.”

Laughter spills from your lips before you can stop it, warmth spreading through your chest, untangling something tight within you.

Cassian lifts his drink, swirling the deep amber liquid. “Wanna try?”

You nod and eagerly take the straw between your lips, pulling a slow sip. The smoky burn lingers on your tongue, and you hum in approval. But the moment it settles in your stomach, something shifts.

Not around you—within you.

A sharp tug in your chest. Low, insistent. A flare of heat threading through your veins.

Not yours.

You don’t have to look to know. You can feel it through the bond—the taut pull of something dark and possessive tightening like a vice.

But you don’t react. Don’t let it show.

Instead, you grin at Cassian, nudging him with your elbow. “Okay, that’s really good. You have to take me to the bar and order me one.”

Cassian throws an arm around your shoulders, steering you toward the glowing bar across the courtyard. “Let’s get you properly set up, then.”

You glance toward Feyre, to ask if she’s coming along, only to find herself wrapped in Rhys’ arms, moving in a way you’ve never seen her dance before. He stands behind her, hands splayed low on her hips, guiding her in slow, teasing movements that match the rhythm of the music. Feyre’s head tilts back against his shoulder, her parted lips curving in a breathless laugh—one Rhys claims in an instant, pressing his mouth to hers over her shoulder. It isn’t sweet. It isn’t chaste. It’s the kind of kiss that makes the world shrink to a single point, one that burns low and deep.

You smirk, shaking your head as you turn back to Cassian. “Never mind. I don’t think she’ll be joining us.”

Cassian follows your gaze and groans, exasperated. “Every damn year.” He gestures vaguely at the display. “Like clockwork. I swear they do this just to remind the rest of us that we’re single.”

You snort, letting him lead you through the crowd, where the air is thick with heat, laughter, and the heady haze of alcohol. The energy is electric, a pulse thrumming beneath the revelry. You should be caught up in it, thinking only of the next drink, the next joke, the next dance.

But that pull—that dark, furious thing—only tightens.

At the bar, Cassian leans an elbow against the counter, signaling the bartender with an easy flick of his fingers and ordering before turning to you. “I’m surprised Mor hasn’t dragged you onto the dancefloor yet,” he muses, swirling his drink. “Must be waiting for the right moment.”

You huff a laugh, pressing your back against the bar’s edge. “Oh, she’ll get her turn. I just needed reinforcements first.”

Cassian grins as the bartender slides a drink toward you. “One for the troublemaker,” he says, lifting his own glass in a mock toast.

You take a sip but hesitate as a better idea takes hold.

Glancing at the bartender, you nod toward the rows of bottles behind her. “Four shots, please. Dealer’s choice.”

Her brows rise. “You sure?”

Cassian chuckles, giving you a pointed look. “You sure?”

You scowl at both of them. “Absolutely.”

The bartender just shrugs and starts pouring. Four shots—each different, each unknown. One a deep amber, another crystal clear, the third an ominous shade of red, the last dark as ink. You slide two toward Cassian and keep the safer-looking ones for yourself.

He eyes the red one warily. “That looks like something that should be in a cauldron, not a glass.”

You smirk. “Only one way to find out.”

He shakes his head, laughing. “Well, at least Mor and I still have a reliable drinking partner.”

You raise your glass. “Cheers to that.”

You each tap your glass to the bar and knock the first shot back. It burns, coiling deep in your stomach before unfurling through your veins. Cassian curses as he slams his own back, shaking his head like a dog ridding itself of water.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “That one had a bite.”

You barely pause before reaching for your second. This one is smoother—almost sweet. You hardly have time to process it before Cassian downs his own, grunting at the taste.

You reach for your mixed drink to chase it down, but before you can take a sip, Cassian’s hand closes around your wrist.

“Whoa,” he laughs. “Take a second. Can’t have you dying on me yet.”

You scowl, but he only grins, nudging your shoulder as the warmth spreads through your limbs like honey.

And gods, you feel good.

Weightless. Buzzing with something electric and bright. The music shifts, fast and reckless, and suddenly—

“I gotta go,” you announce, setting your drink down with an unceremonious thunk.

Cassian raises a brow. “Uh, go where?”

You don’t answer, already turning away. “You can have my drink!”

It takes only seconds to find Mor and Feyre, arms raised, their laughter lost in the pounding bass. You launch yourself into the fray, draping yourself over Mor’s back and squeezing her shoulders.

She shrieks, spinning to face you. “There you are!”

“There I am!” you echo, throwing your hands up like you’ve just made a grand entrance.

Mor cheers, lifting her drink, while Feyre yanks you in and presses a loud, exaggerated kiss to your cheek.

The beat surges, and you move together, limbs loose, movements wild. Mor twirls you beneath her arm, and you take the opportunity to swat at her ass, grinning when she gasps in mock outrage. Feyre cackles, spinning around you both, her golden hair whipping in the night air.

Somewhere in the blur of laughter and bodies, Rhys appears, smirking as he steps into your space, catching your hands and pulling you into the rhythm. It’s effortless—playful, nothing but a game between friends, yet tinged with the same untamed energy coursing through the revelers. His grin is infectious as he twirls you like it’s some grand, gilded affair.

Behind him, Feyre and Cassian spin like fools, bumping into people, laughing like nothing exists beyond this moment.

And gods, you are so fucking drunk.

The world blurs, bright and dizzy, your body weightless, your limbs slow to follow your mind’s commands. The music isn’t just something you hear—it pulses through you, surging like it’s in your blood.

The ground tilts slightly as you throw your hands up, spinning beneath the lights. When you stumble, Mor is there, steadying you.

And then, somehow, you’re in Cassian’s arms.

Feyre twirls away, laughter ringing like a bell as she falls into her mate’s waiting hands. Rhys pulls her close, hands sweeping over her waist, guiding her in an intimate, languid sway.

Cassian’s hold on you is far steadier, his wide palms bracing you against him as you slump into his chest.

“Woah,” he chuckles, adjusting his grip. “I think you might be done, sweetheart.”

You laugh, the sound loose and uninhibited, tipping your head back to grin up at him. “No way. I can totally keep going.”

“Sure you can,” he drawls, guiding your movements with steady hands, keeping the momentum alive between you—more importantly keeping you upright. And you let yourself sink into the moment, losing track of time, losing yourself in the reckless abandon thrumming through your veins.

You are free.

You are untouchable.

And you don’t give a single damn about anything else.

Not the spirits that will streak across the sky at any moment.

Not the jealous, burning gaze you can feel searing into you from across the courtyard.

A warm hand slides around your waist, and suddenly, you’re moving.

Cassian is leading you out of the sea of bodies, his grip firm but careful as he steers you toward the courtyard’s edge, where the night air is cooler.

“Come on,” he says, steadying you. “Let’s get you some water before you end up passed out in some stranger’s lap.”

You roll your eyes but let him guide you, inhaling deeply as the cool air rushes over your skin. “I wasn’t that bad,” you argue, still grinning.

Cassian snorts. “You were a second away from needing me to carry you.”

The air shifts. Thickens.

It’s not a shadow that moves first—it’s silence. A weighted, oppressive thing slipping into the space between you and Cassian like a tide creeping in unnoticed.

Then, a familiar presence steps into your periphery.

Azriel.

He doesn’t speak at first. Doesn’t rip you away. Doesn’t bare his teeth in anger. He simply stands there, dark and unmoving, his expression unreadable.

And yet, there’s something in the way he looks at Cassian—at the arm still braced around your waist—that makes the moment stretch too long, too tense.

Cassian notices it, too. His body tenses, just slightly, though his face remains neutral. He doesn’t let go. Not yet.

Azriel’s gaze flickers to you, then back to Cassian. And when he finally speaks, his voice is calm. Deceptively so.

“I’ve got her.”

A simple statement. No heat, no open challenge. Yet it lands with weight.

Cassian’s hand lingers at your waist for a heartbeat longer than necessary, his eyes locking with Azriel’s. There’s no mistaking the silent exchange between them, an unspoken language of veterans. It’s brief, but it speaks volumes.

Then, with a small sigh, Cassian lets go, his hand sliding away and bracing you by the arm. But as soon as he steps back, Azriel’s hand is there, firm but not harsh—just…certain. Like he’d always known he would be the one to hold you up.

Cassian’s jaw tightens, his eyes softening only slightly with concern. “You good?” he murmurs, looking down at you with a mix of protective affection and something unreadable.

You blink, the fog of alcohol clouding your senses. “I—yeah, I’m fine,” you reply. It’s Azriel. He wouldn’t hurt you.

Cassian doesn’t look entirely convinced, but his lips curl into a tight, reassuring smile before he shifts his gaze to Azriel. A silent assessment takes place—measuring, weighing, understanding. Then, with a reluctant nod, he turns, walking back into the crowd.

For a long moment, it’s just the hum of music in the distance, the cool air against your skin, and the press of Azriel’s hand, still firmly around your waist. The sound of laughter fades as he leads you away from the revelry, his pace unhurried, but purposeful. No words. Just his presence, a steady force pulling you in the direction he chooses.

There’s no urgency in his movements—no dragging or forcing. He isn’t trying to control you. Azriel’s simply walking, taking you with him.

Whatever is simmering beneath that unreadable gaze of his, it’s not meant for anyone but you.

Azriel’s grip is unyielding as he walks you away from the lights, the laughter, the chaos of the celebration. The street grows quieter with each step, empty save for the occasional flicker of lanterns overhead. The cobblestones beneath your feet are silent, untouched by the madness of the party.

You stumble slightly, your world tilting in a way that has nothing to do with the ground beneath you. Azriel steadies you, the small action somehow grounding in its quiet steadiness. You want to say something—maybe apologize, maybe thank him—but the moment is too heavy, and the words never come.

That is, until you hear the sharp inhale through his nose.

“You think I don’t see it?” His words hang in the air, sharp with a simmering tension you can feel winding tighter by the second. The frustration—no, the fury—carries through the bond, evident in every syllable. You’ve felt it all night, a tension brewing, waiting to explode.

You blink, fighting to focus. “What?” you ask, your thoughts still muddled by the alcohol fogging your mind.

Azriel stops walking, the sudden stillness of the moment sending a jolt through you. His hand tightens ever so slightly at your waist before he releases you, stepping back. His wings flicker in the air behind him, a brief, irritated flare before they tuck back in.

“All night,” he says, his voice quieter now, but no less sharp. “You’ve been avoiding me. Running to Cassian. To Rhys. To Feyre. To Mor.” He clenches his jaw, a muscle jumping beneath his skin. “Anyone but me.”

You stare at him, disbelief flashing through you. The accusation is absurd—entirely misplaced. Before you can stop it, a laugh bubbles up from deep in your chest, not out of humor, but out of sheer confusion. “Azriel,” you start slowly, shaking your head as you try to make sense of it, “they’re my family just as much as they are yours.”

His eyes darken, anger flickering beneath something pleading. “And what am I?” His voice is dangerous now—low, thick with the weight of his question.

You falter, something in your chest tightening at the way he says it, at the way it makes everything inside you recoil. But you’re drunk, and you’re tired, and this is not the fight you’re willing to pick right now.

So you roll your eyes, dismissing the entire conversation with a flick of your hand as you step back. “You’re being ridiculous—”

Before you can move further, he’s in front of you, close—too close. The shadows at his feet flare, as if they, too, feel the surge of his frustration. “Am I?” The words are quiet, lethal, his gaze burning into yours. “Because it sure as hell looked like you’d rather be with anyone but me tonight.”

Your frustration flares up, finally breaking through the haze of alcohol. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Azriel,” you snap, the words coming out sharper than you expect. “I wasn’t with Cassian to avoid you. I was having fun.”

His nostrils flare as he takes a step closer. “You were draped over him.”

“I’m fucking drunk,” you retort, barely able to keep your balance. “And he was making sure I didn’t fall on my ass. And even if I wanted to drape myself over him, why do you care?”

That muscle in his jaw tightens, but this time, there’s a flicker of something dangerous deep within his eyes. He looks at you like he doesn’t know whether he wants to argue or shake you, whether he wants to step closer or disappear altogether.

“I care,” he grits out, “because you’re mine.”

The words land like a blow to the chest, hard and raw. Suddenly, you don’t feel so drunk anymore. The fog of alcohol clears, and the weight of his words presses down on you—crushing. You open your mouth to respond, but no sound comes.

Before you can gather your thoughts, Azriel is closing the distance between you, his presence looming. “You don’t get it, do you?” His voice is quieter now, but it burns with the intensity of something long buried. “You’ve been avoiding me all night, and for what? Because you don’t want to acknowledge that we’re meant to be together? Because you think this—” He gestures forcefully between the two of you, fingers twitching before curling into fists, “—this bond means nothing?”

You flinch, the sharp sting of his words cutting through you. But even in your intoxicated state, a part of you knows better. You weren’t avoiding him. But now, everything about his anger—the way it wraps around you, suffocates you—makes you want to shout back. So you do. You force the words through your lips, your voice shaking with a mix of confusion and indignation.

“Azriel, I don’t want to be fucking owned,” you say, your voice shaking with confusion and indignation. But your words are firm. “I’m not some possession to be paraded around just because we share a bond.”

Azriel’s eyes darken, and the shadows at his feet stir—then rise, twisting around him, around you, curling over his shoulders and slipping past your skin like a phantom touch. They coil in the air between you, restless, untamed, a mirror of the storm in his voice. “I would treat you well,” he says, voice rough with conviction. “We were family before the bond snapped into place. Just imagine what we could be now.”

Your heart aches at his words, at the rawness in his eyes, but something else rises in your chest—a knot of confusion and frustration too tangled to sort through.

“I’m not afraid,” you say, though even to your own ears, it sounds thin and uncertain.

Azriel doesn’t respond immediately. His gaze remains fixed on you, and for a long moment, the two of you simply stand in the quiet, the only sound between you the distant hum of music, the breeze stirring the air.

When he finally speaks, his voice is softer, but no less intense. “You’re afraid of what it means, what this bond means… what we mean.” His throat bobs with a hard swallow. “And that’s fine. But don’t think for a second that it doesn’t gut me.”

A slow breath shudders through you. “I know it hurts.” The admission barely carries past your lips. “I’m sorry, Azriel. I never wanted to hurt you. But I don’t—” A breath. Then, quieter—“I don’t see you the way you see me.”

His body goes rigid. The flickering shadows at his feet recoil, the lash out, mirroring the sudden storm in his expression. “You don’t see me the way I see you?” His voice is taut, fraying at the edges. “You think I wanted this? That I asked for it?” His wings shift, the tension coiling through him visible in every sharp line of his stance. “But you—you’re the one who can’t even acknowledge what we are. You’re the one who keeps pushing me away.”

He steps forward, his hands flexing at his sides. “You’re being selfish,” he spits, the words sharp like daggers. “Ungrateful.” The word lands heavily between you. “This bond—this mating—it was decided long before either of us had a say. It’s the Mother’s will. And you think you can just ignore it? You think you can treat me like this and I’ll just stand by?”

The air tightens as he takes another step, crowding the space you have left. His scent—leather, cold steel, and the sting of smoke—clings to the air, sharper now with the unmistakable bite of alcohol. The realization slithers through you too late.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to protect you,” he murmurs, his tone turning something bitter. “The one who’s meant to be at your side, to be with you. And you—” His gaze hardens. “You’ve been treating it like some kind of fucking joke.”

Your breath comes unsteadily. “Azriel—”

He doesn’t let you finish. “You think I’ll just let you walk away from this?” His voice is quiet, lethal in its certainty.

Your instinct flares—too much, too fast. You take a step back.

His hand closes around your wrist before you can move any further. Not gentle. Not cruel, either. Just—unrelenting.

“You’re not going to walk away,” he says, as if speaking it aloud will make it true. His fingers tighten when you try to pull free, his grip firm as iron. “Not when we both know what this is. What we could have.”

Your pulse jumps. “Az, stop.”

He doesn’t. “I care about you,” he says instead, his voice fraying. “I always have. And you—” He exhales sharply, his free hand catching your arm now, holding you in place. “You don’t get to pretend this doesn’t exist.”

Before you can react, you’re being yanked forward—too fast, too rough. His strength is undeniable, unrelenting, as he pulls you up against him with such force that the breath punches from your lungs. His shadows stir, restless and volatile. The sudden impact sends your already unsteady world reeling, your hands shoving at his chest again, but he doesn’t let up. One of his hands leaves your arm only to grab your jaw, his fingers pressing into your skin, forcing you to look up at him. His grip isn’t just firm—it’s bruising.

“You don’t get to stand there and pretend this means nothing,” he grits out, voice shaking with something too tangled to name—anger, desperation, something else. “Not after everything.” His fingers tighten, his thumb barely skimming your throat. “You think you can just ignore it? Ignore me?”

Your pulse thrums wildly beneath his touch, fear threading through your veins. “Azriel, stop,” you breathe, trying to jerk your head away, but he doesn’t let go.

“You have no fucking idea what this feels like,” he snarls. “To have something that’s supposed to be yours, something that the Mother herself decided—and to have it ripped away because you refuse to open your goddamn eyes.”

The pressure of his fingers against your jaw makes it hard to breathe, panic clawing up your throat as his body cages you in, his wings stretching wide, his presence all-consuming. This isn’t Azriel. Not the one you know.

With all the strength you can muster, you shove at him again, twisting in his hold. “You don’t own me, Azriel!” The words rip from your throat, sharp and furious. And for the first time, a crack forms in his expression, raw and wounded. His grip falters just slightly, and you take the chance—ripping your face from his grasp, twisting against the hold he still has on your arm as you pant through the fear gripping your chest. “You’re hurting me,” you whisper, your voice shaking. “Do you even realize that? Do you even care?”

Azriel stills. The shadows recoil.

It takes a second—one breath, then another—before his fingers loosen the slightest bit, before the haze in his expression clears enough for recognition to settle in. The realization of what he’s done, of the line he’s already crossed.

And then—

“Azriel. Let her go.”

Rhysand’s voice cuts through the night, even and quiet, but sharp as a blade.

Azriel doesn’t turn. His free hand flexes at his side, his breath unsteady.

Another voice follows—low, warning. “Az.” Cassian.

You see the moment it truly hits him. The realization. The horror. His grip loosens, his hands falling away from you completely, as if burned. His breath comes fast and uneven, his shadows trembling at his feet.

You stagger back the moment you can. Your arms sting where his fingers had pressed, but you resist the urge to cradle them, to rub away the lingering sting. Your breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing you recoil. You hold his gaze instead—and Azriel stares at you like he doesn’t recognize himself. His chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, his shadows still writhing at his feet like they don’t know what to do without his command. His lips part, but no words come.

You take another step back. Then another.

“I can’t do this,” you whisper. The words are quiet, but they cut through the space between you like a final severing. “If rejecting the bond wasn’t enough, why would I ever choose to be with someone who thinks they own me? Someone who—who does this?”

Azriel flinches, the words striking deeper than any physical blow. “I don’t—”

“You don’t get to justify it.”

The silence that follows is suffocating.

You turn away.

Azriel moves.

It happens in an instant—his wings flaring, his body surging forward, a last desperate attempt to reach you.

But Cassian is there first. He shoves a firm hand against Azriel’s chest, halting him mid-step. The force of it is enough to make him stagger, his teeth bared, his breath coming hard and fast.

Rhys steps in beside them, fury carved into every sharp line of his face. But the authority in his voice is clear. “Enough.”

Something in Azriel’s posture locks. His hands curl into fists at his sides, his shadows writhing, twisting around his feet, but he doesn’t fight. Doesn’t move.

Rhys doesn’t look at him when he speaks again. His attention is on you. “Go find Feyre.”

He’s already reaching for her through the bond. You can tell.

You don’t hesitate. You don’t look back.

Each step away feels heavier than the last, the adrenaline fading, leaving only the bruising weight of everything that has just unraveled between you. Your pulse is still too fast, your skin still stinging where he touched you, but you keep moving.

And then—

You see her.

Feyre stands near the edge of the festivities, scanning the crowd. The moment her eyes find yours, something shifts in her expression. Concern, then something worse.

Pity.

Your throat tightens, and suddenly, the weight of everything crashes down on you all at once.

The last thing you see before the world blurs is Feyre moving toward you, reaching out.

And then, finally—

You let yourself fall.

#sjmxreaderweek #sjmxreaderweek2025 #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #acotar fic #acotar fanfic

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thewulf · 1 year ago

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Don't Cry || Dallas "Dally" Winston

Summary: Request - In that, you mentioned Dally and Two-Bit walking the reader home and I had a request idea I wanted to send you. Could you write a Dallas Winston x reader where reader is a little younger than him but he’s really protective of her??... Read Rest Here

A/N: Ahhh these Outsiders requests are so much fun! I'm writing them so quick. Fresh inspo is so much fun. Thank you for the request and hope you enjoy! @fluentmoviequoter

Pairing: Dallas "Dally" Winston x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.0k +

TW: knifes, knife cutting, blood, crying, yelling

You’d known Dallas Winston for a long time. Not your whole life but it felt like it. He was always a constant in your life. Your relationship was always a weird one with the Winston boy. You could joke all day long in the confines of the house but as soon as you left it he wanted nothing to do with you. Like he was embarrassed of you. Little did you know he was just trying to keep your squeaky-clean reputation intact. For you might’ve hung, lived with and been around greaser’s but you weren’t one really. You were a greaser by association. Dally always said you were far too kind, too pure for this lifestyle so he tried his hardest to keep you as far away as he could.

It wasn’t easy when you gave him those pleading looks outside the Curtis residence to just acknowledge your presence. He tried his best not to cave. Not even when all he wanted to do was laugh about something stupid Ponyboy or Sodapop did. But you couldn’t be seen with him out and about so casually. Then the Soc’s would start to target you. He didn’t know what he was quite capable of at the thought of somebody hurting you. As he got to know you and the Curtis after moving to Tulsa he swore he’d protect you day and night. He wouldn’t let a pretty little hair on your pretty little head get touched.

He'd decided early on when he met you, he was ten and you were eight, that he was going to get you tough. He was going to be hard on you, not too hard though. If you were going to grow up a greaser then you needed to know how to defend yourself. He spent the next eight years teaching you, training you, protecting you. He didn’t realize when it happened but slowly he stopped looking at you like a younger sister. Those protective feelings went far deeper than familial love. No, he actually loved you. He’d fallen in love with the one person he really shouldn’t have fallen for. Darry would skin him alive if he knew. Soda would beat him into oblivion. Pony would tell him how disappointed he was in some sort of poetic way that went over his head. He knew he just had to keep these growing feelings quiet. For your sake. You didn’t need to deal with him or his endless amounts of baggage. Even if he could see how attached you had grown to him too.

To say your relationship had grown confusing and chaotic over the years had been an understatement. Even Darry had picked up on some of the awkward tension that seemed to pop up out of nowhere when the two of you were left alone. Soda caught onto the longing gazes Dally would throw your way. He even caught you a few times doing the same to him. Pony wasn’t blind either. He was your very best friend and confidant. Whenever the conversation of Dallas Winston came up you shied away. Scared of letting something loose on accident. All the brothers knew there was something there they just didn’t know if and what would happen.

After your parents had died he’d been there for all of you but especially you. You’d taken it the hardest. Your mom was your favorite person and she just disappeared one day. You were lost and had to rely on teenage boys to guide you through it all. Your parents had nobody they could fall back on to take care of you. Thank goodness for Dally. He’d quite literally pulled you out of the depression you’d slipped into by just being there. Helping you. Asking for nothing in return. That’s when you fell in love. He’d shown you his true colors under the layers and layers to Dallas Winston. Under it all he was there for you and promised to never leave. And you knew he'd keep that promise, you just knew it.

Slowly the months ticked by and you’d gotten back to normal. Going out with friends and boys. Dallas watching you like a hawk whenever you went on dates with guys he knew were nothing compared to you. But he decided not to say a word and let you live your life. It was worth seeing the smile come back to life after seeing you so sad for too long. Seeing you happy was worth it all.

So, when Ponyboy asked you to accompany him on a Paul Newman special at the movie theatre you couldn’t refuse him. He was so excited about seeing the film you could hardly imagine saying no to him. You’d always enjoyed the movies too so it was hardly a tough sell on his part.

You couldn’t imagine a better way to spend a Saturday. Maybe if Dally was there to accompany you. But you couldn’t admit that. If you did then everything would change. Who knows what Darry would do to Dally. How Soda would treat him. This could get weird, and you hated weird. You’d rather keep it normal even if it meant having to keep him as a friend.

“Which one did you like better?” Pony asked once the two of you had left the theatre. He placed his hands in his pockets giving you a quizzical look. The two of you waked slowly along the cracking road that needed some serious repairs. Your head spun towards the street seeing a car full of Soc’s roll up chipping at Ponyboy about something, ignoring you completely. Even though you were over a year older than him Pony stood much taller than you. He pushed you behind his back as he yelled back at the boys. You tugged at the back of his shirt letting him know it was time to go. It wasn’t smart to get chippy with five of them in the car. They outnumbered the two of you and you were rather useless in a fight.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you across the street. After a moment of walking along the residential road you answered him, “The Hustler was far better Gidget Goes to Rome. Paul Newman really is a mastermind.”

He smirked bobbing his head in agreement, “Thought you’d say that.”

You feigned offense at that statement, “Am I that predictable Ponyboy Curtis?” You raised your eyebrows as you walked along the dirt path. The theatre wasn’t far from home thankfully. Maybe just over a mile. A twenty-minute walk or so.

“No. I just know you I guess dear sister.”

You smiled at your younger brother. Even since your parents had passed you’d taken on the nurturing role for him and even Soda more recently. Darry had none of it though. You’d grown close to your two brothers since their death’s. Darry kept his distance trying to do his best to raise you instead of letting you help him. He was trying to take on the role of your father without even asking if that’s the three of you wanted. But you didn’t dare question him.

You gave his hand a soft squeeze, “That you do Ponyboy. You know me better than anybody else.” You spotted a vehicle fast approaching from behind the two of you as you went in for a hug.

Your eyes widened seeing the same Mustang before barreling towards you, “We gotta run.” You grabbed his arm and started sprinting down the road. Pony was faster, so much faster than you, so he tried to drag you along only ending up tripping you in the process. They caught up in their Mustang an instant. He stood in front of you as you scrambled to your feet.

You gulped as the five boys got out of the car walking towards you, “Get out of here.” Pony tried to sound tough, but you heard the waver in your younger brothers voice.

One of them flipped a blade open. Your eyes shot wide open as you grabbed his shirt trying to tug him away. But they were faster as one of them tugged on your arm pulling you to the ground in front of Pony. You let out a scream trying to draw the greasers attention a few houses down. Hopefully they were hanging out outside like they usually were. Drinking beers or some shit.

“Darry! Soda!” You yelled as Pony as was taken down to the ground with you. He tried to let out a few calls for help but was muffled by something being shoved in his mouth.

“Shut her up.” One of them said, Randy maybe? You’d recognized him as the one with the redhead from school.

And before you knew it that same blade was placed right to your throat, “Pretty little things got a mouth on her huh? Maybe this’ll quite you down.” The overly-cologne scented Soc smirked as he pressed the blade across your throat drawing yet another yell right from you. He cut you. He really cut you.

Before you knew it they were running away. Your brothers and friends had heard you and Ponyboy yelling and came running right to your defense. It was only a little over a minute you were down on the ground, but that minute made you tremble. You’d never been so dominated like that in your life.

You looked down shocked at everything that had just happened. You’d felt the blood trickling down your neck more so than throbbing of the slice the Soc had given to you. Darry pulled you up from the ground, so you were sitting at eye level with his crouched form. After a moment of him holding the handkerchief up to your neck he finally spoke, “They didn’t hurt you too bad, did they?” His voice was low. He was pissed. You knew you were in trouble later on once everything had settled.

You shook your head afraid to look at your older brother, “No, I’m fine.” You whispered afraid of what he might say next.

Ponyboy made his way over to you, crouching down next to Darry, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t…”

You stopped him, “It’s fine Pony. I’m okay really. Just a cut.” A small smile wavered over your face trying your best to reassure him.

Darry scoffed hating how you were playing this off so casually. Like his kid sister hadn’t gotten a knife pulled on her. Like you hadn’t gotten cut by that very same knife. It was every nightmare he had coming to light right in his backyard. At least the two of you had gotten that far before being attacked.

“Hey, Y/N.” Soda spoke after running up. His face dropped seeing the blood running down your neck, “Did they pull a blade on you?” He put his hands on your shoulders so he could get a better look.

Your face flushed with embarrassment seeing all of your brothers eyes right on you. Turning away you couldn’t take Soda’s intense gaze, “Yeah.”

He pulled your head back towards him, “Hey kid, they ain’t gonna hurt you no more. Come on.” Grabbing your hand, he hoisted you to your feet with ease. Darry gave you one last quick look before he grabbed Pony by the arm. You gulped knowing Darry was going to have it in for him. You needed to talk to your older brother about being so hard on Pony. It was just an accident after all. It wasn’t your fault the Paul Newman films kept the two of you in deep conversation not seeing the Mustang until it was too late.

Dally only interrupted you and Soda once Darry had pulled Pony ahead. He needed to make sure that his favorite Curtis sibling was okay. A minor wave of panic rang through his body seeing you pushed to the ground next to Pony with those boys had their filthy Soc hands on you. Rage washed over him as he kicked the side of the fancy car when they fled away from the scene.

Dallas’s eyes scanned over you with concern only stopping when he saw the trail of blood rolling down your neck, “What the hell is that? Did they cut you?” He took a step closer, grabbing at your face with a delicate touch. Almost as if he was afraid he’d hurt you further if he grasped on too tightly.

“Jesus, Curtis. What’d I tell you about defending yourself?” He gave your cheek a soft squeeze before dropping his hand. He spotted the already bloodied Handkerchief turned rag in Soda’s hand and held out his own to ask for it from your brother.

You looked down, “It was five on two Dally. What were we supposed to do?” You asked back earnestly wondering what the hell you were actually supposed to do. Run? Pony was faster and you’d only slow him down so that wasn’t an option. You’d already tripped trying to keep up with him. Try and fight? Well, you got a blade pulled on you so that wasn’t great either.

He bit his mouth trying his best not to snap at you. His adrenaline was high, and he was scared at the thought of you actually getting hurt, “I don’t know Y/N. Fight back? You were just lying there!”

You stopped walking abruptly, brushing Soda away knowing he didn’t need to hear the conversation about to go on between you and the hot-headed man beside you, “Can you go make sure Pony’s okay?” You asked him.

Soda gave you a curious look before finally handing Dally the handkerchief, “You sure?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” You gave him a quick push before turning back to Dally, “What is wrong with you?”

He stepped closer so your brothers couldn’t hear ahead of you, “What the hell is wrong with me? I’m just trying to keep you alive Curtis. I should be asking you the same! Why are you out walking alone with Pony this late on a Saturday anyway? You two know better. Those no good for nothing assholes only want to fight.” He grumbled before dabbing at the semi-dried blood on your chin.

You let out a huff of irritation. He was being so caring yet so damn frustrating, “What? I can’t go anywhere without a damn chaperone now? I’m confined to my brothers house? Is that how it’s going to be Dally? Pony isn’t enough now?” Your voice was snappy as you pushed and pushed and pushed him. He was already feeling on edge from the whole thing and your attitude was about to be his breaking point. There was nobody on this planet that could get under his skin like you could, nobody except for you. You’d found a way to weasel your way into his ice-cold heart and sink a burning ember into it. For Dallas Winston would do anything for you. But man, did you frustrate him to no end.

“Jesus, you know that’s not what I mean! Stop putting words into my mouth Curtis.” He put his hands up in the air in frustration, raising his voice just a tad. Darry turned back observing, making sure you were fine. He knew Dally would never hurt you. He could see the way the Winston boy looked at his younger sister. He wasn’t stupid. Dally had always been soft on you. Except he wasn’t. He pushed you harder than he pushed anyone. He wanted you to know how to defend yourself. With your hands, a knife, a pipe whatever. He was going to teach and push because he needed you alive. You were the only thing grounding him to this planet at the moment.

Your eyes narrowed on his, your voice raising as well, “Then what do you mean Dallas? Go ahead. Say exactly what you mean. I can take it.” You’d only used his full name when you felt like being patronizing.

He looked like he was contemplating everything before he turned back to you, “You need to be more careful!” He snapped. He didn’t raise a hand on you but instead yelled right at you stopping you in your tracks. Dally had never yelled at you before. Scolded sure. Disappointed yes. Angry, of course. But yelled? Never.

Your brothers must’ve seen the look in your eyes as they all stepped in. Darry pulled Dally away telling him to cool off. Soda grabbed your arm pulling you back towards the house. And Pony happily chatted away trying to take your mind off it.

“Dally’s just an asshole, you know that!” Pony’s final ditch effort to get you to smile came up miserably short.

You gave him a solemn nod, “Yeah, I know. Never to me though.” The sadness in your voice must’ve been evident because that had him quiet down the remainder of the short walk home. You brushed them all away telling them that you were ‘fine’ and going to take a nap.

They left you alone for a few hours but when you didn’t come out for dinner all three brothers grew worried. Soda knocked on your door lightly, “Hey kid. Supper’s getting cold. Darry made one of your favorites, spaghetti, and meatballs.”

It was sweet how much they cared on you when you were down, but damn was it suffocating sometimes. It was times like these when you wish you could run to your mom and ask her advice on it all. Boys were… boys and they often didn’t have a clue what ran through your head.

“I’m not hungry Soda. Maybe later, I’m working on homework.” You heard him sigh before walking away. You’d thought you would have gotten rid of them but another, much louder knock broke you away from the essay you were committed to finishing.

“Pony said you both skipped lunch to go to the movies. Come on down and get some dinner kiddo.” Darry’s much deeper voice spoke through the door. He tried twisting the knob but stopped when it wouldn’t budge. As much as he wanted to knock your door in he knew better. You weren’t like his brothers. No, you were so entirely different. He couldn’t treat you the same or you’d most likely find yourself a foster home instead.

“I had popcorn. I’m still full from that.” It wasn’t a lie. You weren’t hungry. You were uneasy and nervous. And wanted to finish the damn easy that you’d been staring at for the better part of three hours now.

“Alight kid, I’ll save you a plate.” He grumbled before beginning to walk away.

“Thanks Dar.” You hummed ignoring the lump forming at the back of your throat. You were so lucky to have your brothers who cared for you so deeply. You just wished they’d give you the space you needed.

And you thought they did before, yet another knock came to your bedroom door not thirty minutes later. With a huff you set the pencil down, “Go away Pony. I’m not in the mood.”

A laugh so distinct came from the other side of the door. That was certainly not Ponyboy, “Try again, sweetheart.” Dallas. Dallas freaking Winston. What had your brothers done?

Your palms began to sweat as your heartrate sped up rapidly, “What are you doing here?” It came out colder than you meant but Dally just found it amusing. He knew you couldn’t hurt a fly much less hurt him words. Albeit you might be the only person that could actually hurt him with words if you wanted to. Dally was soft for one person. You.

“I’m here for you.”

You sighed, “Go away. I’m not hungry. I don’t know who went and got you or called you or whatever. I’m not in the mood Dally.”

He put his head on your door knowing your mood was stemming from the argument earlier. He had snapped at you, and he felt bad. Especially after Darry of all people came knocking at his door pleading with him to come back to his place and talk to you.

His voice was low but he knew you could hear it, “You and I both know I’m not going away little Curtis. So, you can open that door and we can talk about it, or I can sit here all night waiting. Those are the options.” You heard his stubborn ass slide down the door. You knew they could most likely pick the lock or break down the door. But Darry wasn’t stupid. He knew it’d cause more harm than any good. You needed your safe space away from all the madness of being a greaser. A place you could lock yourself away from.

“Please,” Your voice cracked as fresh tears flowed down without you even noticing, “Just go away.”

You heard him click his tongue, “No can-do sweetheart. I gave you the options. Your turn to pick.” His voice was smug. Was he relishing in making you squirm? Neither was really an option. Both forced your hand. But then again this was Dallas. He got what he wanted.

You tried to turn back to your essay all you could think about was Dallas freaking Winston sitting on the opposite side of your door. You knew his stubborn ass wouldn’t leave either and that drove you nuts. You’d never be able to finish the essay or go to bed knowing he was sitting there just waiting on you.

With a heavy sigh you got up, walked towards the door, opened it without so much as a second thought and found him sitting right next to your door, “Go away.” You tried in your meanest voice, but it came out as a whisper.

He shook his head as he stood to his feet, “That’s not going to happen sweetheart.” He leaned against your doorframe pushing you back inside your room.

“Why can’t you guys just leave me alone for one night? One stupid night. That’s all I’m asking for!” You’d hardly ever raised your voice, but you were tired. Exhausted. Scared of the Soc’s that pulled a freaking knife out on you. Frightened because when you needed a helping hand all you got was a scolding voice.

“We’re worried about you is all. You got attacked. A knife pulled out on you…” He lowered his voice hoping it’d help settle down the rage he saw in your eyes. It was weird. Different. He was used to such a sweetness about you. He’d never seen you angry. Upset sure. But this was something entirely different.

Your eyes bugged, “You think I don’t know that? That maybe I just need some alone time away from all of this?” You didn’t hate being a greaser, no. That would never be the case. You loved your life with your brothers. You were just so damn tired of always being alert these days. Being a girl put you in a weird position with the greasers. The Soc’s never laid hands on you until today. It was startling. You’d always heard how dangerous the life was but today laid it out in front of you how truly dangerous it could be if you were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

He put his hands up in defense, “You need to calm down, Y/N.” His eyes shifted from one of a confident gaze to one that filled with concern

You wanted to slap him across his pretty little face, “You saying that is definitely not going to calm me down!” You were beyond frustrated now. You didn’t want to talk about it. You wanted him to leave you alone.

His eyes downturned as he saw your frigid stance. You were, for the first time he had recalled in his life, angry. Like angry, angry. Like you looked like you wanted to rip his head off angry, “Hey, I’m sorry. But I need you to relax a little. Sit down for me?” You were struck by his apology. Dallas Winston saying he’s sorry? You thought you’d so sooner be struck by lightning than hear those words come out of his mouth. The rage in your body calmed at that.

With an icy glare you sat down on your bed. You weren’t sure why you were listening to him. You were angry with him. He yelled at you when you needed sympathy. He’d scared you when you were already terrified. You thought the world of him, but that world came crashing down oh so quickly. You knew of the Dally he had hidden so well from you. Pony, Soda, and Darry would tell you stories all the time of how menacing he was. How he was so fearless in the face of it all. How could you not love on the man?

“Are you okay, Y/N?” He asked after shutting your bedroom door behind him. He knew your brothers were listening in, but it at least gave the illusion of a private conversation. Not that it mattered. They’d get the damn conversation out of one of the two of you eventually anyway. There was no privacy with the greasers.

“I’m fine.” You snapped at him, clearly not fine.

He shook his head giving you that damn chuckle that meant he knew you were lying, “I’m going with you’re not. You wanna tell me what’s the matter?” He asked once more. Stubborn.

“I want you to go away. That’s what I want.” The word weren’t as harsh this time. More like a soft rumble.

He sighed, “Come on Curtis. It’s just me. I know you and I know you’re not okay or fine or whatever word you wanna use. You can talk to me. It’ll be okay.” He grabbed for your hand that was nervously clutching the edge of your mattress giving it a comforting squeeze when his fingers locked with yours.

You felt the words coming on before you could stop them and soon you were rambling, “I’m overwhelmed Dally! I’m scared. I’m nervous. I don’t know if I’ll feel comfortable walking down the damned street anymore! And none of you will leave me alone to think about it!” You fired back exasperated. The building rage inside your eyes quieted down at the admission. You were terrified of what happened next. Everybody was always on edge these days. Life went from easy to hard in what felt like a night after your parents had left.

He opened his arms up, “Alright, come on. Come here pretty girl.” It didn’t take him much effort to pull you right into his embrace. In another instance you’d probably have fought him, but you were terrified and exhausted and his warm embrace was everything you needed. He pulled you closer before resting his head on yours, “It’s okay to be scared.” He whispered knowing that your nosey as hell brothers were likely sticking their ears to your door.

You closed your eyes letting the scent of his cologne mixed with the long day wash over you. So much more refreshing than the scent that washed over you earlier. Dally was always your comfort. No matter how harsh a day or words that were spat you knew you could count on him. No matter how mean you were to him either, “You yelled at me.” You felt another wave of tears come on. God, you felt so pathetic in his arms crying about being yelled at. Some greaser you were.

“I know.” He sighed giving you another reassuring squeeze, “You scared me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just let out my frustration out on you. I shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve been there to protect you.” He sounded a bit angrier not that he was getting it off his chest.

You pulled your head back gaping at his with a confused expression, “Is Dallas Winston apologizing?”

He gave you that soft smirk that you’d come to love, “If you tell someone I did, I’ll deny it.” He brushed the stray tears away with his thumb, “I don’t like it when you cry.”

You laid your head back down on his chest, “Don’t make me cry then.” Quipping back, you knew that wasn’t entirely fair. He wasn’t the sole reason you were in tears. But he was the reason you were crying then.

He leaned down whispering in your ear, “I’m sorry. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect. You know I’m a fuck up. But I’ll try. I’ll always try for you.” There was no chance your brothers could hear him for you hardly could. Or maybe that was the rough pounding in your ears. He wanted it to stay between the two of you. He knew Darry would flip if he tried to make a pass at his sister. So, he’d keep his distance from you, for now. But he couldn’t promise to restrain himself if you made advances on him, he’d fold in an instant if you did.

“I believe you.” You fisted his shirt in your hands, grasping onto him. This certainly wasn’t what friends did. But it felt right to cling onto him. To mold into his touch and his embrace. Dally felt so incredibly meant for you the thought of not being with him hurt you.

He held onto you for just a bit longer before pulling back, “It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out. You’ve got me. Your brothers. All those friends. You’ll be just fine.”

You gave him a quick nod brushing the fogginess out of your eyes, “Thank you Dally.”

“Always. Now come on, let’s go eat before Darry force feeds you.” He stood, unwrapping himself from you, holding his hand out for you to take.

“Darry would, wouldn’t he?” You smiled taking his hand in yours happily.

He gave you that look, “Let’s not find out.” Before pulling you out the door. To nobody’s surprise were all three Curtis brothers not even subtly eavesdropping in on the conversation right outside your door.

“All of you. Unbelievable.” Your laugh let them know they’d called just the right person to brighten your spirits. Darry knew it was only a matter of time before you realized that he was your person. The thought terrified him. The older you got the closer the two of you grew. But time and time again Dallas had shown Darry just how much he loved you too. His actions and his words showed just how much he actually did care for you.

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nina-ya · 11 months ago

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Hey! I love the 3 times you tried to confess and the time it finally works. The story you did for Sanji. I'm interested in how it would go with Zoro. Please and thank you 😁

Three Times You Tried to Confess to Zoro and The One Time That You Did

A/N: HIIII i had so much fun writing this i hope you love this just as much as i do!! And thank you @tetzoro for letting me bounce my ideas off of you!! Pairing: Zoro x reader CW: Mild onigashima spoilers in the last two chunks. WC: 1.8k

You had spent the entire day psyching yourself up to confess to Zoro. Another serene day at sea had finally come and it seemed that nothing could ruin this moment. You were sitting in the crows nest, accompanying Zoro as he worked out.

As he completed another set, Zoro paused to catch his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow. He looked at you, curiosity evident in his features. “You’ve been awfully quiet today.,” he remarked.

You smiled nervously, feeling the butterflies in your stomach start to flutter. “Yeah, just thinking,” you replied, the nervousness accidentally peeking in your tone.

Zoro nodded, picking up his water bottle taking a swig from it. He placed the water bottle down before asking, “What’s on your mind?”

You took a deep breath as you tried to steady your heart. Now was your chance. This was your moment to say what’s on your mind. “I uh…” you trailed off, words evading you. He was staring at you at this point, wondering what you had to say. You decided to just rip off the bandage and say it. “Zoro I l-”

The hatch to the crows nest swung open and Sanji's head popped up, that beaming smile on his face interrupting your words. “There you are!” he exclaimed, climbing up with a tray in his hands. He waltzed over to you, flashing that charming smile of his before declaring, “I made a special treat for you. Thought you might like something that’s just as sweet as you are.”

You glanced at the tray, which held an intricately made dessert, made specially for you. You took the treat off the tray, thanking him. “Oh, thank you, Sanji. That’s very kind of you.”

Sanji’s smile widened and you swear you could see heart eyes forming by the second. “Anything for you, my dear,” he said with a wink.

You felt your face heat up; not from the behavior from Sanji, rather from the frustration of your confession being interrupted. You still smiled at him, hiding your displeasure. Before you could say anything, though, you noticed Zoro’s expression darken. He scowled at Sanji, his fists balling up.

“Oi, curly-brow,” Zoro growled, “we were in the middle of something.” Sanji straightened up, his eyes narrowing. “Is that so, marimo? I didn’t notice anything important.”

Zoro took a step forward. “Yeah, well if you weren’t always butting in where you’re not wanted–”

Sanji bristled, taking a step closer to Zoro. “And maybe if you-”

The tension in the room escalated rapidly as the two began to bicker and go head on. You quietly backed out of the crows nest, leaving the two to their argument. You’d find another moment, you told yourself. One where you could have Zoro’s undivided attention, without the interference of well-meaning crewmates.

- - - You had been waiting for the right moment to confess your feelings to Zoro. The shared moments, the silent understandings, the ephemeral glances had all accumulated to this built up courage. Now seemed more perfect than ever– the waters were calm, there were no signs of danger approaching the ship, and you’re sitting right next to the man who you hope to call your lover.

“Zoro,” you began, your voice quiet, but steady. He turned his head slightly, acknowledging you with a grunt with his gaze focused on the gorgeous orange golds of the sunset that painted the sky as the sun made its descent. You took a deep breath, collecting your thoughts and more importantly, your courage. “There’s been something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

You glanced down at the deck below, eyes following the patterns of the wood with your eyes as you attempted to remain calm. The words you had rehearsed so many times in the mirror seemed to just turn into mush, and your throat suddenly felt dry. You glanced back at Zoro, only to see him still looking at the sunset.

“I…I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while now,” you continued, your voice carrying a tremor. “It’s just that… spending all this time with you, I’ve come to realize how much you mean to me.”

You could feel heat rising to your cheeks, and your eyes darted around, refusing to focus on him in fear of possible rejection. Your heart was running a marathon, and the anticipation nearly killed you. You had imagined this moment so many times, but now that was happening, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anxiety and you could only hope that he felt the same.

“I… I think I lo–”

A soft sound interrupted your words. You paused, not daring to look up to confirm your suspicions. That sound can’t possibly be… You looked up and saw Zoro sitting beside you, his head tilted slightly forward, eyes shut and a peaceful expression on his face as he snored. Your heart filled with an immense disappointment that his need for sleep had stolen your moment, but you couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of relief knowing that the pressure of the confession was momentarily lifted off of your shoulders for another day. - - - Zoro lay unconscious, his body battered and bruised from the fight with King. Chopper was working frantically, his small hives moving quickly to stabilize Zoro’s injuries. You were right there by his side, your heart heavy with worry.

You couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down your face as you watched chopper tend to him. His face was pale and his breaths came in shallow uneven rasps. The sight tore at your heart. “Zoro,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “You have to pull through. You always do. You’re the strongest person I know, and I need you to keep being that strong.’

Chopper glanced up at you, his eyes filled with concern, “He’s tough. He’ll make it. He’s just got a lot of internal injuries that I need to focus on,” he muttered in concentration.

You reached out and gently took Zoro’s hand, your own fingers trembling. “Zoro, I love you,” you said, your voice cracking. “And I need to say that to you while you’re awake and can hear me, so you better pull through, goddammit.”

Chopper’s hands faltered for just a moment, his eyes widening in surprise. He looked up at you as he said, “W-well, it’s about time you admitted it.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle through the tears at Chopper's comment. “Was it really that obvious?” you asked, your tears dripping off your chin and falling onto yours and Zoro's clasped hand.

“Yes, it was.” Chopper started. “It’s also obvious how he loves you too. So I’m going to focus now so that I can get him conscious for you.”

You nodded at Chopper, and you shifted so you were by Zoro's head. You leaned down, resting your forehead against his as you declared in a whisper, “I love you, Zoro.” Your tears mixed with the sweat, blood and grime on his skin as you continued, “I should have told you sooner. I should have told you a thousand times. But I’ll tell you now, and I will tell you again when you wake up, and I will tell it to you until it is my dying words.” - - - The days following Kaido's defeat were filled with joy and celebration by everybody on Wano. Everybody except for you. Your heart was filled with anxiousness as you waited day by day, hoping that Zoro would wake up. You had taken on the task to spend most of the last couple of days by Zoro and Luffy’s side. This was just your excuse to be close to Zoro so you would be right there the moment he woke up.

You noticed a slight movement. Zoro’s fingers twitched, and his eyelids fluttered. You leaned forward, your heart racing. “Zoro?”

His eye slowly opened, a groan escaping his lips as he adjusted to the light. He blinked a few times before his gaze settled on you. “Hey,” he croaked, his voice hoarse from days of disuse.

Tears welled up in your eyes as relief flooded you. “You’re awake,” you whispered, a smile breaking across your face.

He tried to sit up, but you gently pushed him back down. “Take it easy, you’ve been through a lot.” you said softly. Zoro’s head turned and his focus landed on Luffy, who was still unconscious besides him. “Luffy?” he asked, his concern evident. “He’s still resting,” you replied. “Chopper says he’ll be fine. You both just need some time to heal.” Zoro nodded, his gaze returning to you. “You stayed here?”

“Of course,” you said, your voice trembling. “I couldn’t leave you. Not after everything.”

There was a moment of silence, and Zoro shifted slightly to get more comfortable. “You look exhausted,” he said. “Have you been getting any rest?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Not really. I was too worried about you.”

A smirk tugged at Zoro’s Lips. “You know you don’t have to worry about me so much. I’m tougher than I look.”

You gave him a half hearted smile, running your fingers through his hair. “I know. But it doesn’t stop me from worrying.”

Zoro's gaze softened, and he reached out, taking your hand in his. Your heart pounded at the gesture, and you took a deep breath, feeling the words rise to your lips. “Zoro, I…” He looked at you, raising an eyebrow as your demeanor suddenly shifted at your own words. It was then that you finally ripped off the band-aid. “I love you, Zoro,” you blurted out, unable to contain it any longer. “I love you so much, and I should have told you a long time ago when I first realized it. But now I just need you to know how much you mean to me and how much I care about you.”

For a moment, Zoro was silent, his eye searching yours. Then, a slow smile spread across his face, the kind of smile that you could only hope to pull out of him more in the future. “You took your time,” he said, his tone teasing yet tender.

You laughed through your tears, the sound a combination of relief and joy. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

Zoro's grip on your hand tightened, his eye never leaving yours. “I love you too,” he declared. “I always have. I just… didn’t know how to say it.”

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Well, now we both know.”

A content sigh escaped his lips, and that teasing edge made an appearance once again as he said “you missed, by the way.”

You looked at him confused for a moment before you realized he meant the kiss. You chuckled and leaned in, brushing your lips against his as you whispered, “I love you so much.” His eye fluttered closed as he kissed you back, his lips soft and warm against yours. In that moment, you knew that your heart had chosen the right man to be the love of your life.

#nina responds~✦#nina writes~✦#one piece x reader #one piece fluff #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro #x reader

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jarvewrites · 4 months ago

Note

hi! I'm sorry for not being specific on my last ask! Could I request genin Gaara developing a crush on genin female reader? Like how would he act and/or adjust to this new feeling?

🏵️

genin!gaara crush headcanons!

hey there 🏵️ anon, glad to see you again! no worries about that, thanks for your request ^ ^

characters : gaara

female!reader

(love this header)

— genin!gaara was a menace and that would be an understatement

— as we all know he had a rough childhood, being isolated from the other kids and getting treated like a monster simply because he was a jinchuriki(my boy didn't deserve this)

—so he grew up into this cold - blooded person, who never showed any signs of kindness or care even towards his own siblings, threatening them and making they obey his very command(as shown during the chunin exams)

— so let's say he met you during the chunin exams, i can see two scenarios. either you pick his interest right way(perhaps some unique looks or out of ordinary behavior) or he doesn't really acknowledge you(common for him)

—his crush would develop slowly, but surely. at first it would simple interest in your abilities, just like with sasuke, or being impressed by lee's skills, that's the first one

—especially if you were good with taijutsu or any other type of jutsu that could easily counter his sand attacks. he would he intrigued to find out how you were gonna fight during the exams

— but it was the kindness blended with courage that intrigued him the most. he saw how you took care of your teammates, wholeheartedly trusted them and never backed down, especially when a much more stronger team tried to take your team down. gaara thought to himself that this was stupid and just annoying

—but soon he thought of you more, which annoyed him that itself resulted into him snapping at temari and kankuro much more easily than before

—i don't think that genin gaara is smooth with small talk, so even if he gets a chance to stir up a conversation, he would say something that almost sounded like a threat

—even if gaara doesn't realize at first, his siblings definitely would notice his subtle change in behavior. temari and kankuro were worried that gaara was just blood - thirsty as ever, so that's why he acted this way

—soon gaara would look at you frequently, though his stares were giving "resting bitch face", it made you feel weirded out especially after knowing his reputation of cruelty

—the idea of having a crush on you wouldn't even cross his mind at first, or at second..

—only when kankuro slightly made fun of the way gaara was that interested in you he thought of this possibility.

—«it looks like our little brother has a crush on someone!» temari looked at kankuro as if he doesn't appreciate his own life. gaara, surprisingly didn't snap this time, he simply hummed in return while his thoughts wandered around his head

—after realizing his crush gaara would try to deny it, but soon it angered him, he stopped believing in love, care or anything remotely like that after his uncle's betrayal

—so he would take it out on you, during the forest round of chunin exams he would say remarks at you, how ninja shouldn't be so trustful with teammates as they just disturb the work.

—in the final round of the exams gaara would approach you, saying how thrilled he is to find out your abilities. you didn't know if that was another threat of his or he is just trying to scare you off with words.

—you know what happens next, orochimaru attacks, sasuke chases gaara, naruto saves him and completely changes his views of this world. only after that gaara starts to change and finally understands your perspective of the world.

—when sasuke leaves, gaara with his siblings help out konoha. after the mission failed gaara came back to the village to apologize to you for acting this way during the exams.

—with white tulips in his hands gaara wanted to make amens with you. kankuro and temari were all near while it happened, you could hear kankuro giggling, saying that «my little brother changed a lot, don't you see?»

—kankuro's words flustered gaara, as he shook his head disagreeing «i still have a long journey to take. once again, forgive me for my past behavior. i hope this would mark new beginnings in our interactions»

—gaara seemed so nervous during this conversation, so when you told him that he can stop worrying about it and that it's all in the past he cracked a little smile

—so even though in the begining gaara never thought of ever feeling love himself and getting a new friend, life had other plans for him!

— by the way, white tulips mean new beginnings and forgiveness. gaara definitely asked temari for an advice on how to apologize to a girl, which surprised her, but she was happy to help.

—«since when he apologizes?» kankuro tilted his head before temari scoffed «have some faith in him! he changed!» «temari, i think he has a crush..»

— after those events you would see gaara on missions the sand or when he would come to konoha for diplomatic reasons as son of the kazekage. those white tulips never disappoint, they did spark a new path in both of your lives!

thanks for reading this far! as always, if you enjoyed the post make sure to like and reblog. thank you for your support, i appreciate it! 🌷

#j☃️#naruto headcanons #naruto imagines #gaara #gaara x reader #sabaku no gaara #gaara headcanons #gaara of the sand

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 9 months ago

Text

It Was Only A Kiss

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: unprotected sex, hand job (kind of) cockwarming technically, creampie- this is relatively tame

Genre: smut, kinda fluff

Summary: Just another story of a very touch starved man

***

You take a deep breath and knock bravely on the door of your brooding neighbor's apartment. It takes a moment but eventually the door swings open and you're face to face, well more face to chest actually- he's much larger than you were prepared for- with your mysterious across the hall neighbor.

"Can I help you?" He asks flatly.

"Hi. You're Logan, right?" You ask and his eyes narrow at the question.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'm y/n, I live- well above you actually." You point up towards your apartment.

"You live above me?" He quirks an eyebrow up.

"Correct." You nod.

"And how do you know my name?" He's still regarding you with a level of suspicion.

"We live in the same building I make a point to know as many of my neighbors as I can if there's an emergency and the cops show up asking me about the man that lives below me I wanna be able to at least say who the man that lives directly below me actually is."

"Cut the shit. I didn't tell you my name. So who did?" He asks. You glance down and watch his fist clench.

"Cool it hothead. I help out in the lobby sometimes, you learn a lot that way."

"So you're spying on me?" He glares.

"Are you always so paranoid?" You frown.

"Excuse me?"

"It's a simple question, I told you I help with stuff at the front sometimes you think I'm spying on you? That's a rather extreme assumption, can you reach those heights all on your own or do use a trampoline to help you jump to such wild conclusions?"

"You showed up at my door for reasons you still have not explained I have every right to be skeptical."

"A package of yours ended up at my door. I thought I'd bring it down for you but hey if you think I'm spying on you never mind I'll just keep it. Hope you got something fun in there!" You say, tapping the package tucked comfortably under your arm.

"Give me that!" Logan swipes at the box but you twist the box just out of reach.

"You have terrible manners, the least you could do is acknowledge you jumped the gun here."

"You know it's illegal to steal someone's mail." Logan crosses his arms.

"I'm not asking you to grovel just a simple 'my bad, thank you' would be sufficient. Plus I didn't steal this it was delievered to MY apartment."

"You're being pedantic." He rolls his eyes.

"And you're being difficult. You want your package? Try a little hospitality."

"You're a stranger unannounced at my door. I'm not hosting you."

"Now you're being pedantic. And a hypocrite." You shake your head. Logan tips his head back and sighs in exasperation. You have to restrain from smiling as you realize you've definitely wore him down.

"It is more than reasonable to be skeptical of a stranger knocking on your door with information you didn't tell them but your motives were altruistic, I misjudged. Thanks for bringing my package. Can I have it now?" Logan forces out. You flash him a smile and hand the package over.

"See how simple that was? Although I should come clean it wasn't purely altruistic. The package gave me the perfect excuse but I've been dying to meet the brooding mystery man in apartment 632. Thank you mistaken delivery driver."

"Yeah we're done here." Logan says closing the door.

"I'll see you around Logan!" You call just before it's shut.

"What an odd woman." You hear through the cheap wood and you giggle as you return to your apartment. He's rugged looking, imposing, no wonder he's such a mystery to your neighbors. You're sure he scares them shitless. He'd probably scare you too under different circumstances.

"You did what?!" Henry blinks at you as you recount your interaction with Logan.

"Why are you looking at me like that? I had to get the guy his package." You say.

"You're insane, you know that?"

"Why? He's just some guy. He's- very attractive but he's just some guy." You shrug.

"Quick question darling do you- understand the concept of fear? Do you have any sort of survival instincts that tell you not to poke sleeping bears?"

"Nobody died." You scoff.

"I cannot believe you forced this man to apologize to you for being rude when he opened the door to a stranger!" Henry shakes his head.

"Well somebody ought to teach him some manners. His mom would be very disappointed in his habits." You shake your head.

"What does he sound like?" He rests his head on his hand.

"Oh now it's fine that I 'poked the sleeping bear'? I thought I was insane."

"You are but since you did it already might as well learn something from it. Now answer me what's he sound like?" Henry gently shakes you with his free hand. It seems he hasn't noticed the subject of your conversation walking up to the front door.

"Let's see if you get to hear it yourself." You say with a smile.

"What?" Henry follows your line of sight just as Logan pulls open the door to the lobby.

"Hi Logan!" You call out. He looks at you and rolls his eyes. "Don't be rude or next time I get one of your packages by mistake I'm just going to keep it!" You warn.

"Is this going to become a regular thing?" He asks gruffly as he waits for the elevator.

"You lose absolutely nothing by being kind to your neighbors."

"I gain absolutely nothing as well."

"There's no need to be such a grump Logan." You shake your head.

"There's no need to be such a nuisance Y/n."

"You remember my name." You smile.

"Goodbye." Logan huffs out stepping into the now open elevator.

"Now you know what he sounds like." You tell Henry.

"You are unbelievable."

"Yeah sure we've covered that already, moving on now, how can you hear that voice and not do everything to keep him talking?" You sigh.

"He sounds like he'd eat you." Henry says.

"Oh I wouldn't protest that."

"Not in the fun way you psycho I mean like he'd murder you." He shakes his head.

"Well that I'd have to argue against."

"I sure fucking HOPE you would!"

"God that man is fine, the things I would do to him."

"I've lost you haven't I?" Henry's exasperation with you is obvious in his tone.

"No! Of course not! Okay maybe a little bit but in my defense you're the one that brought up him eating me." You toss your hands up.

"I meant he sounds dangerous, like he'd kill somebody you're just unwell!"

"Two things can be true! He can be hot and dangerous- shout out to Kesha- people watch all kinds of movies and shows about criminals and villains!"

"Look just don't push your luck too far okay? Some people shouldn't be messed with and I would guess he falls into that category."

"Oh please we get along great!"

"I don't even know what to do with you at this point." Henry says, concerned confusion colors his expression, making you laugh a bit. Honestly you think he's freaked out over nothing. Logan's no more dangerous than any other man you don't know that well living in this building. You're not going to put yourself in harm's way but he's fun to sort of wind up.

You sing along to your speaker as you drag your couch across your apartment, in all the commotion you barely hear the fevered knocking at your door and almost trip over your table trying to answer it once you realize someone's here.

"Logan? What're you doing here?" You blink at him in surprise when you find Logan in your hallway.

"What the hell are you doing in there?" He asks.

"Moving around some furniture. Why?" You frown.

"Well stop it. Or get people to help you carry things because the sound of you dragging shit around is unbearable." He grits out.

"Are you going to help?"

"Excuse you?"

"My apartment is a wreck right now and I can't exactly just stop and wait for someone to be able to help me finish this up so unless you plan on helping me you'll have to suck it up and wait for me to be done." You say. He stares at you for a moment, his jaw tightening a moment before he lets out a harsh breath through his nose.

"Fine. What needs moving?" He grits out.

"You'll help?" You blink at him, you didn't expect him to offer that. You expected him to stomp off back to his place to brood or whatever he spends his time doing down there.

"At the very least it'll be quicker if I help."

"Alright, well, I need the couch against that wall first." You say. Logan walks over to your couch and before you can help him, he lifts the couch and moves it to where you asked him to.

"What next?" He turns to you, barely acknowledging the baffled look on your face.

"Uh the coffee table, needs to be put in front of the couch." You point, watching in awe as again Logan lifts the table like it's a down pillow and lowers it where you directed.

"What else?"

"Can you move the bookcase? I need it next to the television. I can take everything out of it first so it's-" he doesn't give you a chance to finish the sentence, he moves the entirely full bookcase from one side of your living room to the other with ease. You spend a little while longer dictating for Logan what needs to be moved where and no matter how many times he does it you're astounded by his displays of strength. It's like every piece of furniture in here weighs less than the average toddler to him, he's barely breaking a sweat by the time you've run out of tasks to watch him do because he truly doesn't need your help with any of it.

"Everything's where you want it to be?" He asks.

"Yes."

"So I won't hear any more insufferable scraping of furniture against the floor then?"

"You won't. Thank you for helping. I'll make you lunch." You suggest.

"Don't bother." He rolls his eyes.

"No no no all that work you just did for me I have to at least feed you."

"You don't." He shakes his head.

"Logan you moved like 20 pieces of furniture by yourself, let me pay you back." You insist.

"You pay me back by not scraping things against your floor slash my ceiling."

"Sit. Eat. Then you can leave." You say, wrapping a hand around his wrist to drag him into your kitchen to sit on a barstool at the counter.

"This isn't necessary y/n, really."

"Yes yes you've made that clear. I'm doing it anyway, so stop protesting. Do you have any allergies?" You look at him over your shoulder as you pull things out of your fridge.

"No." He scoffs as if it's a crazy thing to even ask, you won't bother asking why. It's a good thing you have no sense of portion control and always end up making more than one portion of anything you cook anyway. Logan doesn't say anything while you fix lunch and you're not sure how to break the silence so you don't. You cook, and hum, and let Logan sit and watch or daydream or whatever brooders do when they're not interacting with the world. Lunch takes just over 20 minutes and soon enough you're placing a plate in front of Logan.

"What is it?" He asks.

"It's a bufflo chicken sandwhich wrap thing."

"Sandwhich wrap thing?" He quirks an eyebrow up at you.

"Oh just eat it." You roll your eyes taking a bite of yours. Logan looks as if he's going to retort but seems to decide against it as he picks up the wrap and takes a bite. You watch intently as he processes the food, his eyes widen at some point while he's chewing.

"Oh wow this is good." He says eventually.

"Thank you." You smile at him as you take a seat next to him at your island counter. You and Logan eat pretty much in silence and it isn't until you drop the plates in the sink that he speaks again.

"You're a very odd woman you know." Logan says.

"So I've heard. My downstairs neighbor is very vocal about how strange he thinks I am." You wink at him.

"He might be onto something."

"Maybe. But I must be doing something correct because he still talks to me." You lean against the counter beside him.

"How much of choice does he have in that really?" He scoffs.

"Well you came up to mine today so- you tell me." You say softly, moving closer to him.

"I came up here because you were being disruptive." Logan says lowly.

"So you said." You hum. You're not quite sure who closed the gap between you but the next thing you know, your lips are pressed against his and his hands are around your waist pulling you towards him. You hands settle on his shoulders as his kiss practically devours you. You hear the sound of metal against metal that you're fully prepared to ignore but it seems to snap Logan out of things as he practically leaps away from you.

"I- I have to go." Logan says abruptly. You notice him clenching and unclenching his fists as he looks at his hands.

"Hang on a second what- what just happened?"

"Doesn't matter it won't happen again." He says before leaving your apartment.

"Logan!" You call but you're sure he's already at the elevator at this point. "And he calls me the odd one." You sigh. Part of you wants to go after him but why should you? He's probably not going to answer you if you go down to his place now anyway. You'll let him cool down from whatever that was and deal with it later.

A few weeks go by without incident. If you didn't know any better you'd think Logan was intentionally avoiding you, but he hardly leaves his place anyway so it's not like anything has really changed. However today one of his packages has ended up at your door again. Weird. You wonder briefly if Henry has anything to do with this but it's not really his style. Regardless of how it got there, you have to take it down to him now. So you get in the elevator and go one floor down to Logan's apartment knocking on the door firmly. You hear some shuffling on the other side and eventually Logan pulls the door open.

"What are you doing here?" He asks.

"Are you okay?" You tilt your head. He looks a little flustered for some reason.

"Don't answer my question with another question."

"Technically, I'm not answering your question I'm just asking a separate one you look flustered and I wanna know if you're okay."

"I'm fine, y/n. Why are you here?" He says sharply.

"Don't be a dick."

"Excuse me?" He blinks at you.

"I got a package adressed to you again and I'm being nice by bringing it down to you. Look I didn't realize you'd be so up in arms over a kiss, sorry it bugged you so much, but you don't just get to be an asshole whenever you see me."

"I'm not-"

"Whatever your problem is, why ever you ran out of my partment like I burned you, I didn't kiss myself so don't take it out on me like it's all my fault."

"I didn't say it was your fault."

"Here. I'll try not to get any more of your mail." You shove the package into his chest and he scrambles to get it before it drops.

"Y/n hang on-" Logan grabs your wrist before you can even turn to leave.

"I'd rather not do this I just wanted to bring your... thing."

"No I owe you an explanation. Come inside, please." He says.

"Fine." You say entering Logan's apartment. It's pretty minimalist. All the basic furniture you'd expect in a living room plus a bookcase that's about half full of stuff and a trunk in one corner. Logan tosses the package onto the trunk and clenches his fists. You gasp and jump back as metal claws protrude from Logan's knuckles. "You have knives coming out of your knuckles."

"Kind of."

"Why are you showing me them?" You frown.

"This is why I ran out like you burned me, as you put it."

"I need more information."

"These are- obviously dangerous and I usually have incredible control but- while we were in your apartment that day I- they came out without me doing it. It's been a long time since I couldn't control them but something about you- it's risky." He says, brows furrowed.

"We kissed and your claws popped out like an erection?"

"Don't phrase it like that."

"I'm just trying to understand. Are you implying that kissing makes you like lose control of yourself?"

"No. Maybe. It's hard to know I-" you cut Logan off by kissing him. Easiest way to confirm the theory is to test it. His hands are on your waist right away and moments later the sound of metal sliding against metal grabs your attention.

"Well- I'd say that answers that." You say.

"You can't do that." He says.

"You didn't stop me." You shrug.

"I could hurt you, you know. I can't- there's no-"

"You could sure but I don't think that you will." You say.

"You shouldn't have such faith in me." Logan shakes his head.

"Why not?"

"I am... in pain trying to keep it together here."

"Don't bother." You say kissing him again. His hands on your hips tighten, and he's doing what he did last time, kissing you so ferociously you feel as if he's going to consume you whole. Eventually, he pulls away with a groan.

"You need to go. Please." He grits out.

"You'll have to let me go first." You say, he's still holding your waist rather tightly.

"I know that." Logan says but he makes no move to do so.

"Logan, stop trying to be such a gentleman. I'm not a china doll, you won't break me." You say pushing him onto his couch and straddling him.

"Wait y/n-"

"If you tell me one more time that you're going to hurt me so we can't keep making out I'm going to throw a fit." You roll your eyes.

"No it's not that I- this is much more embarrassing than that." He mutters.

"Embarrassing?"

"I'm too... high strung, if this continues I- I'll end up looking like an inexperienced teenager."

"Don't worry I know you're not an inexperienced teenager." You hum kissing his neck.

"Y/n-"

"Logan." You drawl. Logan closes his eyes and blows out a heavy breath that makes you giggle.

"You're trying to kill me, I'm sure." He says.

"Not at all. Necrophilla isn't my thing." You shrug and Logan chuckles. Finally a break in his unnecessarily serious disposition.

"You're impossible."

"Well yes, you've said that before I'm pretty sure. Look if you really want this to stop Logan I'll leave." You make a move to get off of his lap and Logan's hand on your hip stops you.

"Don't."

"Still concerned about your... percieved overexcitement?"

"Just kiss me." He rolls his eyes using his other hand to pull you in for another kiss. You let your hands trail down his body slipping under his shirt to feel the hard muscle underneath. Clothing comes off hastily as you switch between kissing his lips and covering his throat in hickeys. Logan's hands are roaming wildly across your body, gripping here and grabbing there, his mouth exploring your skin with the same fierceness, nipping and sucking anywhere he can get. When your hand slips between your bodies and grabs his dick the sound he makes is pornographic and damn if you don't want to hear him make it again. Logan is all groans and harsh breaths as you move your hand against him. He doesn't let you get away with it for long, his hand quickly grabs your wrist.

"You sure you're not tryna kill me?"

"I told you I'm not into fucking dead people." You wink at him. "You can die when I'm done with you if you're that determined to do so."

"Well that's not the worst way to go." Logan chuckles.

"No but there's a lot more I could do if you stayed alive." You whisper, lining him up with your entrance and slowly sinking down onto him. You'd guessed he'd be big but your fantasies definitely were not doing him justice. His moan as you settle fully onto him is deep and long and makes you clench around him. Using his shoulders to brace yourself, you set a steady pace riding him. He's thick and you relish in the way he stretches you.

"Fuck you're so wet." He groans, head tipping back against the back of the couch. His hands are on your sides but his hold is loose, either to allow you control or because he's busy trying not to embarrass himself. You keep your rhythm, nails scraping against his skin as you chase your orgasm. Suddenly, Logan's grip tightens, tight enough that you feel there may be bruising tomorrow, like a beast suddenly woken from sleep he growls low in his throat as he takes over the situation. Without warning, he's fucking up into you furiously and all you can do is moan as you claw at his arms and chest. Logan's release hits him first but he doesn't stop, not until you're spasming around him.

"That was not the performance of an inexperienced teenager you know." You say after you've caught your breath.

"Oh shut up." He scoffs.

"I'm just saying." You shrug.

"You're insane."

"Ooo new adjective."

"That's all you got from that?" He asks. You sit up and smile at him.

"You can call me abnormal in whatever way you'd like you're still into me so it makes no difference to me." You say.

"Try not to move too much." He groans when you shift in his lap.

"Sorry, am I hurting you?" You ask.

"Quite the opposite, but I wanna give you time to recover from-"

"You're still treating me like a china doll." You poke his chest.

"You implying you're good to go again?"

"Refractory periods are way longer for men than women you know."

"I don't really have one so I try to remember other people do."

"I bet I could tire you out first."

"That's a bet you're definitely gonna lose." He scoffs.

"Care to prove it?" You ask. Logan smirks at you.

"I hope you've got nothing planned for the next few days." He says as he carries you to his bedroom. "First things first I'm dying to find out if you taste as good as you smell." The promise of a thoroughly pleasurable experience is clear in his eye and you're only too thrilled to find out what he can really do.

***

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #xmen #logan howlett #wolverine #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut

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blackenedsnow · 8 months ago

Note

I love ur writing so much could I maybe request p1 slowly learning to love and be loved 💔

p1 dude learning to love and be loved ; headcanons

WARNING: Emotional detachment, slow emotional healing, and mental health struggles.

PAIRING: Postal (1) Dude x Reader

NOTE: Thank you so much for your kind words! This is sooo sweet and I had so much fun writing this.

At the beginning, Dude is incredibly distant.

He’s been hardened by everything going on in his head, unable to trust anyone, and it takes time before he even acknowledges your presence as something more than just another person in his life.

He avoids eye contact, rarely speaks, and his body language is closed off.

He flinches at touch, even a casual hand on his shoulder can cause him to stiffen.

He’s not used to physical affection and struggles with it, associating touch with pain or vulnerability.

You notice this and take things slow, giving him space while offering gentle reassurances that you’re there for him.

The first step to breaking through his walls happens in small ways.

You notice that he tends to neglect himself—skipping meals, isolating for days, or losing himself in his own thoughts.

You leave food for him, make sure he has a clean place to rest, or leave a blanket for him when it gets cold.

Even though he has that coat on all the time.

He doesn’t thank you at first, but you notice him slowly accepting these gestures, even if he doesn’t show it outwardly.

There are rare moments when you catch a glimpse of his vulnerability.

Maybe it’s late at night when the weight of the paranoia becomes too much, and you find him staring out into the darkness, lost in thought.

You sit next to him, offering silent company.

He doesn’t say anything, but the fact that he doesn’t push you away is progress.

Trust comes slowly for him.

The first time he starts opening up to you, it’s not in the form of deep conversation but in subtle actions—he lets you sit closer to him, or he allows himself to relax slightly in your presence.

It’s a process of him realizing that not everyone wants to hurt him, and you’re someone who’s there to help, not judge.

Dude doesn’t know how to love anymore, not in the traditional sense.

But with time, he starts showing his affection in his own way—he might fix something for you, stand by your side, or give you something meaningful to him, even if it’s small.

He’s not one for grand romantic gestures, but his love is shown in quieter ways.

If you’re having a tough day, he’ll sit beside you in silence, offering his presence rather than words.

His touch remains tentative, but over time, you notice him reaching out—a hand on yours, or resting his head on your shoulder when he feels safe enough to do so.

His biggest fear is losing the one person who has stayed by his side.

The thought terrifies him because he knows how fleeting happiness can be.

When you notice him getting more protective, it’s not out of possessiveness but fear.

He doesn’t know how to express it, but the idea of losing you is unbearable to him.

It takes time for Dude to fully accept that he deserves love.

Even after he begins to care for you, there’s still a lingering doubt in his mind—why would anyone want to be with someone like him?

But as you continue to show him patience, understanding, and unconditional support, he starts to believe that maybe, just maybe, he’s worthy of love after all.

There’s a moment when the emotional walls he’s built start to crack.

Maybe it’s after a particularly difficult day, or when his fear catches up to him, but he finally lets his guard down in front of you.

He doesn’t say much, but he leans into your embrace, allowing himself to be vulnerable, if only for a moment.

It’s then that he realizes just how much he needs you.

Slowly but surely, Dude learns that love isn’t about perfection or being strong all the time.

It’s about support, about being there for one another, and allowing someone to care for you, even when you don’t feel like you deserve it.

You’re the person who teaches him that love can be a healing force, and while it’s not a magic fix, it’s a step towards a brighter future.

Dude may never be the most emotionally expressive person, but he’s learned how to love and be loved.

He starts to accept that it’s okay to rely on someone else, and while he may never fully leave behind his paranoia, with you by his side, he begins to find peace in the idea that love doesn’t have to hurt.

#postal dude #postal #postal 1997 #postal 1 #postal dude x reader #postal 1 dude #headcanons #x reader #ask #request #fanfic #postal x reader

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jungkoode · 3 months ago

Text

死 KKANGPAE | #07 死

† sunshine †

"Meandering around the castle late at night wasn’t supposed to take you to Jeon. Nor was he supposed to be the one training you. But here you are."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 5.4k

rating: mature

content: AM encounters, outside of the cafeteria spot, smoking, cryptic messages, begrudging acknowledgements, takama appearance (my kiwi boy), training that somehow seems like foreplay

☠ author's note ☠

Alright, you thirsty little monsters, I knew you'd be STARVING for some action so here are some CRUMBS. Bon appétit! Don't say I never gave you anything (￢‿￢ )

Fun fact: Takama literally didn't exist until I was hate-eating a kiwi at like 2 AM after a terrible day. Just popped into my brain fully formed like Athena from Zeus's forehead but considerably more polite. I don't necessarily intend for him to have a massive role but... well, characters have a way of hijacking the plot when I least expect it.

But he's just??? So nice??? I don't know why I'm surprised by my own creation, but here we are. My little kiwi-inspired shaved-head cinnamon roll. Too pure for this gang. Too pure for this fic, honestly.

ACTUALLY, I love all my characters—even the ones who make objectively terrible life choices. It's like watching your disaster children set things on fire and being like "well, at least they're applying themselves." But I also have WAY more information about them than you do, so my attachment makes sense I guess (•̀ᴗ•́)و

So that leaves me wondering... which character is your favorite so far? And which one makes you want to throw your phone across the room? I have my suspicions about the general consensus, but maybe you'll surprise me. I read all your comments so let me know!

And before anyone asks—no, I will not be giving you more than crumbs. The slow burn tag exists for a reason, and that reason is I enjoy chaos. Your tears sustain me. Stay mad!

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tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

You don't see Jeon for two weeks after the ankle incident.

Not that you saw him much before, mind you. Your paths barely crossed even when you could walk properly. But his absence feels... noticeable. Like missing a storm cloud that usually hovers at the edge of your vision. You wish you could say it's a relief not having him around, but maybe you've just gotten used to being the target of his general disdain.

It's 5 AM and you're wandering the castle halls like some restless ghost. Most people would say roaming a gang headquarters before dawn is asking for trouble, but they don't understand the appeal. Everything's quiet at this hour—no footsteps echoing off stone walls, no voices carrying from common areas.

Just you and your thoughts and the soft hum of the heating system.

Besides, what else are you supposed to do when sleep keeps dodging you? Your legs are itchy with the need to move, to do something. And it's not even about your ankle anymore.

That's actually healing pretty well, thanks to following J-Hope's instructions to the letter. Two weeks of medical training turned out to be more interesting than you expected. You learned how to stitch wounds, dress injuries, even set a broken bone (though hopefully you'll never need that particular skill).

J-Hope's... different than you thought. You wouldn't call yourselves friends exactly—there's still that whole "he's on the Council and you're basically a grunt" thing making things weird. But under all that cranky exterior and constant complaining, there's someone genuinely reliable. The kind of person you'd want patching you up after a mission gone wrong.

He actually cares about people, even if he shows it by threatening to revoke their medical privileges. Which is more than you can say for some people.

l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶c̶e̶r̶t̶a̶i̶n̶ ̶s̶n̶i̶p̶e̶r̶

At least J-Hope's grumpiness comes with a side of actual human emotion. Unlike Jeon, who seems about as caring as the brick walls you're currently stalking past.

Maybe that's not entirely fair though.

You've caught glimpses of something else beneath all that ice he wraps around himself—little cracks scattered across that stoic shell he wears so well.

Whether that something counts as actual human emotion is still up for debate.

These past two weeks without him have been... easier.

You hate admitting it, even to yourself, but not having to constantly watch your step around Hurricane Jeon has been a relief. No more walking on eggshells, no more bracing for the next storm.

Your feet carry you to the cafeteria's outer corridor before you really think about it. The same spot where you had that lovely second chat with Jeon—the one where he made it crystal clear just how much he enjoyed talking to you.

The memory still stings, which is stupid because why should you care what he thinks?

But the universe, it seems, has a sick sense of humor.

Because there he is.

A shadow against the night sky. Sharp angles. Quiet intensity.

The cigarette between his fingers glows like a dying star, smoke curling into the darkness. Something in your chest does this weird little flip that you choose to ignore.

"What are you doing here?" The words slip out before you can stop them; and as soon as they leave your mouth, you realize how dumb they sound—like you have any more right to be here than he does.

He must think the same thing because he doesn't even bother turning around. "And you?"

"Has anyone ever told you it's rude to answer a question with another question?" You lean against the wall opposite him, trying to look casual.

You study his silhouette against the window—the slight hunch of his shoulders, the way his forearms rest on the ledge. The cigarette looks natural between his ringed fingers, like it belongs there. You catch that familiar scent of pine and mint mixing with tobacco smoke.

Part of you expects him to ignore you completely. That would be classic Jeon—pretending you don't exist unless he needs bait for paintball practice.

But another part hopes he won't.

Because there is something different about him in these quiet hours, something less... hurricane-like. You wonder what keeps someone like him awake at this hour. What ghosts chase sleep away?

"You're really not going to answer my question?" You push a little, testing how far this almost-civil moment can stretch.

"Couldn't sleep." His voice comes out low. "That's all."

"Makes two of us." The sigh slips out before you can catch it.

He makes this soft sound—not quite agreement, not quite dismissal. More like a hum. It nearly gets lost in the pre-dawn quiet.

"Why not grab coffee then?" You can't help asking. The sun's barely thinking about rising.

"Cafeteria doesn't open until six." He says it like it's obvious, like everyone should know the castle's breakfast schedule by heart.

You tilt your head, curious now. You've been doing the early breakfast routine for weeks, chasing those fresh croissants, but you never knew there was an actual schedule.

"How do you know that?"

"Common knowledge." The words come quick, almost defensive. But there's something else there, like maybe he knows the schedule because he's spent his fair share of sleepless nights waiting for that first cup of coffee.

"I see." The words come out quiet, almost lost in the pre-dawn air. It's like something about this hour that makes conversation feel... heavier. Still, curiosity nags at you. "Why not try going back to sleep?"

His jaw clenches—just slightly, but you catch it. "Cafeteria opens in an hour anyway. Might as well wait."

"For an hour?" You can't help the disbelief in your voice. "You must really love that first cup of coffee."

He finally turns to face you, though his hand stays outside, cigarette smoke curling into the darkness. Those dark eyes study you like you're a puzzle he can't quite solve, picking apart every micro-expression.

"So you knew?"

"What?" Your eyebrow arches of its own accord.

"That morning, few weeks back. Same spot." His gaze doesn't waver, like he's trying to read something written on your soul. "You got there first. Took the first coffee."

"I... did?" You frown, trying to remember. Because seriously, who keeps track of stuff like that? Is he actually holding a grudge over coffee? "Oh. Well, I didn't know then. Just found out recently that was your thing."

Something in his expression shifts, those storm-dark eyes softening just a fraction. But instead of saying anything else, he turns back to the window, leaving you to wonder what exactly just happened.

"Second cup's not terrible," he mutters, the words almost lost in the air. "Just doesn't hit the same as the first."

You study his shoulders, the way tension sits there like there's an actual dumbbell; and you can't help but think that seeing him like this—guard slightly lowered, existing in this quiet moment—makes him seem almost human.

"Why's that?"

You don't know why you ask. You don't know why you're curious.

He takes another drag from his cigarette, the ember burning bright against the darkness. Smoke curls from his lips as he considers your question, his ringed fingers tapping an absent rhythm against the window sill.

"It's routine now." His answer comes after a silence that stretches just long enough to be uncomfortable, and the words feel heavy, like they carry more weight than he's letting on.

"Routine?" A small huff of amusement escapes your lips—trust Jeon to make something as simple as coffee sound like a military operation.

But there's something about him that makes you want to dig deeper. Maybe it's the way he almost looks peaceful at this hour, or how the soft pre-dawn light catches on his silver chain. Whatever it is, you find yourself wanting to understand the storm that lives behind those dark eyes.

He lets the silence build again, but it feels different now. Less like he's ignoring you. More like he's actually considering his words.

"I just..." He hesitates for a second, and it's weird—because you haven't seen him hesitate, ever. "I like knowing exactly where things stand when my day begins. Everything else might go to shit, but at least that first cup is always exactly what I expect."

The confession hangs between you, oddly vulnerable for someone who usually keeps his emotions locked down tighter than the castle's security system.

You wonder what it costs him to admit even this small thing.

"I get it." The words come out softer than intended, gentle in a way you didn't mean to be. "Control matters. Especially here."

Your heart does this weird skippy thing that you choose to ignore. Because empathizing with Jeon? That's definitely not part of the plan. t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶l̶o̶o̶k̶s̶ ̶k̶i̶n̶d̶a̶ ̶h̶o̶t̶ ̶w̶h̶e̶n̶ ̶h̶e̶'̶s̶ ̶v̶u̶l̶n̶e̶r̶a̶b̶l̶e̶

It's almost like the night is wrapping around you both, filled with the kind of silence that feels too heavy to break. His scent is stronger now that he's turned to face you properly, and why the fuck are you noticing stupid shit like that?

He flicks his cigarette out the window, the ember trailing through the darkness like a falling star. When he looks at you again, those dark eyes hit like a physical force.

Suddenly, something storms behind them.

Something you can't quite read but definitely feels dangerous.

"You think you understand?" His voice is rough. "Trust me, you don't know shit about control or lack thereof. Not here."

The words slam into you like a door being shut in your face. Like the moment you thought you'd almost glimpse something real, his walls went up again.

"Maybe I don't know everything about control." You meet his gaze head-on, refusing to back down even though your heart's trying to crawl up your throat. "But I see enough. This isn't just about coffee for you, is it?"

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you know you've pushed too far. You probably don't know anything about what control means to him, about why he needs that first cup of coffee like he needs air. But something about Jeon makes you stupid brave, makes you want to push at his walls until something breaks.

Maybe it's the pre-dawn air making you reckless. Maybe it's the way vulnerability looks on him, rare and fascinating. Or maybe you just never learned when to shut up.

A muscle jumps in Jeon's jaw as he studies you. Those dark eyes narrow like he's trying to dissect your words, find the hidden meaning behind them.

"And what exactly do you think you see?" The question comes out sharp, wrapped in cynicism.

"I see someone who needs their first coffee before dawn not because they love the taste." Your voice drops without you meaning it to, like you're sharing a secret neither of you is ready to acknowledge. "But because they need something certain when everything else isn't."

Silence falls.

But Jeon doesn't look away.

That storm that usually rages behind his eyes goes quiet, replaced by what you think is understanding, or maybe just resignation.

"You're reaching." His smirk doesn't quite land, missing that usual bite. There's a pause before he says it though—just long enough to make you wonder if you hit closer to home than he wants to admit.

"Maybe." You hum. "Or maybe I just pay attention."

Jeon stares at you like he's seeing something new, something that doesn't quite fit with whatever image he had of you before.

"Or maybe," he whispers, eyes dark and tinged with slight amusement, "you just like pushing buttons to see what happens."

"I prefer 'tactical engagement.'" You tilt your head, matching his tone. "Sounds more professional, don't you think?"

He turns back to the window, but not before you catch the ghost of what might have been a smile. The sky's starting to lighten, painting everything in soft greys and blues. When he speaks again, his voice has gone quiet, thoughtful in a way you've never heard before.

"Professional or not, it's still dangerous territory."

"You say that like it's supposed to scare me."

You don't mean for your words to come out that light, almost teasing. But then again, everything about Jeon is uncertain. It's weird how each conversation with him feels like carefully picking your way across thin ice—reckless indeed, but kind of thrilling too.

The scoff he lets out in response sounds almost fond. Almost. When he faces you again, he leans against the windowsill, and you notice how the early light catches on his eyebrow piercing.

"If it doesn't scare you yet..." His voice drops lower. "It should. You can never be too careful around here."

The way he says it makes you think he's not just talking about coffee anymore. Like he's implying something darker. Something that hints at experiences you probably don't want to know about. But instead of making you want to back off, it just makes you more curious about what lies behind all those walls he's built.

You study him for a moment, trying to read between the lines. Everything in Kkangpae has double meanings—even warnings about coffee, apparently.

"I'll keep that in mind." You respond. "And don't worry, your precious first cup is safe from me."

"Aren't you just a ray of sunshine." His lips twitch, and for a second you catch something that might almost be a smile—gone so fast you could've imagined it, but the memory of it lingers like smoke.

"Also..." The words stick in your throat for a second, but fuck it. Here goes nothing. "Thanks for the croissant."

He stiffens. A blink follows—one that lasts a heartbeat too long. If you weren't watching so closely, you might have missed it.

"Don't know what you're talking about." His voice goes flat, dismissive—like you're crazy for even making such assumption. But there's something in his eyes before he turns away—something that colors his reaction. You don't know what color, though.

Maybe Yunjin wasn't so far off after all.

Silence descends again between you two, and so you take that as your cue to leave, pushing off from the wall with a small nod. Your footsteps echo down the hallway as you head for the elevator, each click against stone counting down the seconds until dawn.

Then his voice catches you mid-step, low and quiet like he's talking more to himself than you:

"Glad you liked it."

You freeze, caught between wanting to turn around and knowing you shouldn't. Because this feels oddly like something fragile; perhaps vulnerability he didn't mean to show. Like catching a glimpse of something wild and knowing any sudden movement might make it disappear.

So you stay there, suspended between one step and the next, letting that quiet admission settle in the pre-dawn air.

But you don't turn around.

Jeon deserves that small reprieve.

Takama turns out to be nothing like you expected.

You'd figured Jeon's second-in-command would be a mini-version of him—all stormy eyes and cynical sarcasm, ready to freeze you with a glare. That's what would make sense, right? Deputies usually mirror their leaders, picking up their habits like cats picking up fleas.

But Takama? He's about as similar to Jeon as a gentle breeze is to a hurricane.

Sure, he's quiet and precise—you've never seen someone demonstrate a low kick with such mechanical perfection. But that's where the similarities end. There's nothing cold or distant about the way he corrects your stance, nothing harsh in how he points out your mistakes. Even when you mess up the same move for the fifth time, his patience doesn't crack.

The training room feels different with him here. Less intimidating, somehow, even though Takama commands respect in his own way. His shaved head and slate gray eyes give him this intense monk-warrior vibe, but without the whole "I could kill you with a glance" energy that radiates off Jeon.

You'd been low-key terrified when you first walked in here. Your brain had conjured up all sorts of scenarios—because you didn't know what or who to expect. So the walk to the training room had felt like heading to your execution, each step heavier than the last.

Then you'd pushed open the door and found... just Takama.

No thorny roses. No brewing storms. Just a bald guy in training gear, looking about as threatening as your high school gym teacher.

Relief should've been your first reaction. But honestly? You had been more confused than anything. Yunjin's endless fountain of gang gossip had barely mentioned Takama beyond "he's Jeon's deputy."

Which begs the question—why is he the one teaching you?

The answer came to you a bit later.

After your injury, Jeon disappeared on some mission, and by the time J-Hope grudgingly cleared you for training, he still hadn't surfaced. V stuck around during your recovery, but naturally, the universe had other plans—he got sent out right when you were supposed to start training with Assassination.

So you had ended up assigned to Takama. Which honestly? Might be a blessing in disguise.

That first day, you'd been a nervous wreck. Two weeks of lying around while everyone else trained? Not great for the confidence. You'd walked into the training room expecting to get chewed out for falling behind.

Instead, you got... this.

This half-japanese (according to what he's told you) guy, who is nothing like his boss. Where Jeon fills a room like an incoming storm, Takama's presence is more like early morning fog—quiet, steady, impossible to pin down. No hurricane winds trying to knock you off balance, just... calm.

"Ready?"

His voice pulls you back to the present. The way he asks makes it sound like an actual question, not a challenge or a threat. Like if you said no, he'd actually wait.

You nod, watching as he flows through another set of combat moves. There's something almost peaceful about how he fights—each motion precise, purposeful, no energy wasted. Like watching someone solve a complicated math problem with perfect handwriting.

Your first attempt at copying him is... less graceful. Your body feels clumsy, still remembering two weeks of forced rest. But Takama just watches, gray eyes taking everything in without judgment.

"Your balance is off." He steps closer, adjusting your shoulder with careful hands. "Try shifting your weight here instead."

The training room door creaks open and you freeze mid-movement, that familiar scent of pine and mint hitting you before you even turn around.

Oh.

Jeon stands in the doorway like some drama lead making his entrance, gym bag slung over one shoulder. For a second, surprise flickers across his face (guess he wasn't expecting company). His fingers tighten on the bag strap like he's considering turning around, but then he steps inside anyway, letting the door click shut behind him.

The room feels smaller suddenly.

You catch that slight shift in the air that always comes with his presence, like the pressure drop before a storm. Takama doesn't react beyond a quick glance, probably used to Jeon randomly showing up to brood and punch things.

Those dark eyes sweep over you and Takama, something flashing in them before he looks away. He heads straight for the boxing area, dropping his bag with a thud that echoes in the quiet room. He seems to be starting his prep routine, and it looks almost meditative—like he's done this a thousand times before.

You look at Takama, wondering if you should... what? Leave? Apologize for existing in Jeon's general vicinity? But Takama just gives you this tiny nod that clearly means 'ignore him, keep working.'

So you do. Or try to. Because—easier said than done.

Your rhythm's all off now. You keep catching glimpses of Jeon as he methodically removes his rings, setting each one aside carefully. You don't mean to look but... The way he wraps his hands is almost hypnotic. Years of practice, you bet.

He doesn't look your way once, completely absorbed in his own thing. His brow's furrowed slightly, that little crease appearing that usually means he's either concentrating really hard or plotting someone's murder. h̶o̶p̶e̶f̶u̶l̶l̶y̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶s̶

And honestly? The contrast is almost funny—you and Takama over here doing your best sensei-student routine, while Jeon radiates 'don't fucking talk to me' energy from his corner.

"Focus." Takama adjusts your stance again with gentle hands.

And the thing is... You're trying, really trying, but your attention keeps drifting to the other side of the room like a compass finding north.

Because Jeon's started his shadow boxing routine, and it's... distracting. Each punch flows into the next like water, and you catch yourself wondering how someone who radiates such raw strength can move with such precision.

Then your eyes meet his in the mirror for a split second. Something flickers across his face—maybe surprise, maybe something else—before his signature aloofness slides back into place. His usual scent is stronger now that he's working up a sweat.

You force yourself to look away, taking a deep breath that's supposed to help you focus but just fills your lungs with his scent. t̶h̶a̶t̶'̶s̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶h̶e̶l̶p̶i̶n̶g̶

You try to concentrate on Takama's instructions, but your body won't cooperate. Every movement feels wrong, awkward, like you've forgotten how your limbs work.

"Keep it fluid," Takama reminds you, adjusting your elbow. "You're too stiff."

You nod, but 'fluid' feels impossible right now. Your movements are wobbly, hesitating, nothing like the smooth precision you're aiming for. Against your better judgment, you steal another glance at Jeon.

He's moved to the punching bag now, each hit echoing through the room with a thunderous rhythm. The way his muscles move under his shirt is... d̶i̶s̶t̶r̶a̶c̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ completely irrelevant to your training.

You try again, but your next sequence is even worse.

The sigh that escapes you is pure frustration.

You can feel Jeon's eyes on you sometimes, brief glances that burn like touches, and it's making everything harder.

This would be so much easier if he'd just stayed in his room cleaning sniper rifles or whatever he does. But no —he has to be over there looking like some kind of combat god while you fumble through basic forms like a newborn giraffe.

"You're being too soft, Takama." Jeon's voice cuts through the room like ice.

The steady rhythm of the punching bag has stopped, and suddenly the air feels thunderous.

Takama just nods, that zen master calm never wavering. But before he can resume the lesson, Jeon's already moving toward you both, rolling his shoulders like he's getting ready to pounce.

Your stomach does this weird flip thing as he approaches. The scent of pine gets stronger with each step, and you try very hard not to notice how his tank top shows off those tattoos crawling up his arms.

"Let me show you." His voice drops low, almost a growl, and yeah—that's not helping your concentration at all.

Takama steps back, clearly recognizing when to bow out, the traitor.

Jeon moves behind you, and suddenly breathing becomes an advanced skill you've forgotten how to master. His hands wrap around your wrists—warm and steady and way too gentle for someone who looks like he could break you in half.

"Like this." The words ghost across your ear, and you suppress a shiver.

He adjusts your stance, every touch feeling deliberate, calculated. You try to focus on the actual instructions, but all you can think about is how his chest is barely inches from your back and how he smells like mint and forest and leather.

"You need to relax."

Easy for him to say. You're pretty sure 'relaxed' isn't even in your vocabulary right now, not with him standing so fucking close.

His hands guide you through the movement again, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse racing under his fingers. If he notices how your breath catches when his thumb brushes over your inner wrist.

t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶t̶o̶r̶t̶u̶r̶e̶ This is training. Just training. Nothing else.

"Come on. Hit me." Jeon immediately drops into a defensive stance in front of you, those tattooed arms raised like living art.

You blink at him, caught between t̶h̶i̶r̶s̶t̶y̶ surprise and uncertainty. Those dark eyes watch you through the cage of his hands, waiting. Patient. Testing.

When you finally throw a punch, it's half-hearted at best. Not because you think he can't take it—you're pretty sure Jeon could stare down a freight train until it apologized—but because you're too busy trying not to notice his fucking biceps.

His eyebrows draw together, disappointment written all over his stupidly perfect face. "Are you trying to dance tango with the enemy?" The scoff in his voice hits like a slap. "Again."

The criticism stings, but it also lights something inside you. That familiar spark of fuck you that Jeon seems particularly good at igniting. You reset your stance, squaring up to face him properly this time.

"Didn't know you danced." You can't help the smirk that tugs at your lips. "Though tango does take two. Unless you're scared to lead?"

His eyes narrow, and the temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees. He doesn't move an inch, but somehow his stillness feels dangerous. Like a storm gathering strength.

"I always lead." His voice drops lower, rougher. The words feel like fingers trailing down your spine. "Question is, can you keep up?"

You know he's talking about fighting. He has to be. But there's something else in his voice, in the way his eyes track your movements, that makes your mind go places.

You throw yourself into the next punch with everything you've got. No more half-measures—if he wants a fight, he'll get one. Even if you know he'll probably dodge it because he's t̶i̶n̶f̶u̶r̶i̶a̶t̶i̶n̶g̶l̶y̶ annoyingly good at this.

Sure enough, Jeon deflects your fist like he's swatting away a fly. The movement is so smooth it's almost insulting. His eyes catch yours as you follow through, and you swear you see a spark of actual amusement breaking through.

"Maybe you should try leading better."

You don't know what you expect when the words fly out your mouth.

Maybe a disbelieving laugh.

Maybe a reprimand.

But then something weird happens.

Because Jeon smirks. Actually smirks, like the ice sculpture suddenly remembered how to have human expressions.

It's so unexpected you almost miss your next block.

"And maybe," his voice drops lower, teasing in a way that does funny things to your stomach, "you should follow instructions better."

You've never heard him sound like that. Playful. None of his usual arctic blast. It's... h̶o̶t̶ distracting.

"Can't when the instructor doesn't know how to give them." You fire back because apparently your mouth has a death wish and your heart's racing, and you tell yourself it's just from the exercise.

"That's why you're here getting lessons, and I'm here teaching them?"

The condescension in his voice should be annoying.

It is annoying.

But somehow it's hot too.

You're suddenly very aware of how close he is, how his eyes haven't left yours, how the thin fabric of his tank top clings to his shoulders.

"Guess seduction skills don't translate to combat," Jeon says, and god, you want to wipe that smug look off his face.

"Good thing I'm not trying to seduce you then." You quip, heart pounding against your ribs fighting a mix of exertion and something else you'd rather not examine.

He scoffs, circling you. "Good indeed. Because you'd fail miserably."

"Don't flatter yourself, Jeon." You mirror his movements, keeping your distance. Your muscles tense, ready to dodge. "You're just a man. My division's bread and butter."

"Is that why you keep dancing around me instead of landing a blow?"

"Maybe I'm studying you. That's what we do—find the cracks, the weak spots."

"And have you found mine?"

"Still working on it." You fake left, but he reads you like an open book. Bastard.

"Keep trying." His lips quirk up, just barely. "You might surprise yourself."

Fuck it. You're done playing defense. You lunge forward, aiming for his left side. Your movements are sharper now, more deliberate. The countless hours of training are finally starting to show.

Jeon blocks your attack, but there's a slight nod—the closest thing to approval you'll probably ever get from him.

"Not bad." He steps back, giving you space to reset your stance. "You're learning."

You drop your arms and watch him. He seems to smile now, head tilting. He looks less hostile now, more... huh?

"But don't get too comfortable, sunshine." His voice drops low, and what the fuck is that nickname supposed to mean? "In both seduction and assassination, the moment you think you've figured it all out is the moment you've lost."

You barely have time to process the s̶t̶u̶p̶i̶d̶ unexpected nickname before he's moving. It's a feint to the left—you can tell by the way his weight shifts. You dodge right, proud for reading him correctly, but he swipes you off your feet with a low kick.

Oh shit.

You're going down, but your seduction training kicks in—never waste an opportunity. Your fingers grab his shirt, pulling him with you.

If you're eating mat today, he's joining the menu.

His eyes widen slightly—ha, bet he didn't see that coming. His perfect little training session just went off-script.

Your back hits the mat with a loud thud, and he catches himself on his forearms, caging you beneath him. A strand of his black hair falls forward, and god, it's unfair how he manages to look good even when you've just ruined his whole flow.

Your heart hammers against your ribs, and you tell yourself it's just the adrenaline from the fall. Nothing to do with how his dark eyes are locked on yours, or how the scent of pine and wood seems stronger this close.

Your fingers are still twisted in his shirt—you should let go, but you don't. The fabric bunches under your grip. He doesn't move, but his muscles flex. It's n̶i̶c̶e̶ irrelevant how solid he feels.

The silver chain around his neck dangles between you, catching the fluorescent lights. You focus on that instead of his face, watching it swing with each breath he takes. Better than meeting his eyes or thinking about how his minty breath fans across your cheeks.

But your gaze betrays you, drifting up to his face anyway, and the way his dark eyes are slightly wider than usual... makes him look—

A throat clearing shatters the moment.

Takama.

Great. You forgot he existed.

Jeon tenses above you, jaw tightening as he acknowledges his deputy with a short nod. Less than a second, and his whole leader persona is back.

He pushes himself up in one fluid motion, extending a hand to help you. Honestly, weirdly polite coming from him, but you take it anyway. His palm is warm and calloused against yours as he pulls you to your feet.

"If we're done with the k-drama moments," you say, hoping your voice sounds steadier than you feel, "I'd like to try that move again, thundercloud."

The nickname slips out before you can stop it—petty payback for his "sunshine" earlier. His eyebrow ticks up slightly, and his face is a mix of amusement and deadpan.

But you force yourself to focus. You have a point to prove, after all. You're not some swooning romance novel heroine, and he's definitely not your prince charming.

He's just Jeon��cold, distant, p̶r̶e̶t̶t̶y̶ irritating Jeon. And you're just trying to learn how to fight better. That's all this is.

That's all this will be.

But then, he says:

"Sure thing, sunshine."

And it's pure sin.

next | index

🔪 taglist 🔪

@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @redcherrykook @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @rpwprpwprpwprw @jimineepaboya @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap

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cy6err · 1 year ago

Text

First look — W.S.

Pairings: Actress!Reader x Walker Scobell

Warnings: None! just fluff :) not proofread

Summary: After attending the Percy Jackson event at Disney, you were met by Walker and felt an instant connection with him.

A/N: Hi everyone, this is my first ever post and I don’t know if this will get a lot of attention :( How do people usually do that, by the way? Anyways! I hope you guys enjoy this because this was so fun to make. Also, my writing is a bit rusty because I have not written in almost two years 🥸.

And to come to my conclusion, Percy Jackson has been kind of a big hit lately (Walker scobell)

Note: This is completely made up and decided that you and Leah acted together in a show. (You can imagine whatever show you want!!) also, this is extremely short and a bit rushed 😭.

. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ . .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ . .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

Arriving at the Santa Monica pier for Percy Jackson after being invited by your closest friend Leah Sava’ Jefferies, you took a look around the place.

It had been a long flight and drive but you had a feeling it was worth it. You looked your best that day, with a light touch of makeup, your hair done, and even a cute but comfortable dress.

Leah always talked about the days she had when filming the series over FaceTime, giggling and saying she had an amazing time. She would also talk about her friends, Walker and Aryan. You knew Walker from the movie he starred in with Ryan Reynolds “the Adam project”, so you were a bit stoked to see him in person.

To put it quite simply, you were a huge fan of him. I mean, who wouldn’t? He was an amazing actor and he was definitely passionate about his career.

It was beautiful outside, the weather breezy but not too windy or cold. You were lost in your thoughts when Leah snapped you out of it, “hey, they’re over there!” She exclaimed, grabbing your hand and practically dragging you over to them.

You laughed to yourself at your friend’s energetic self, eventually catching up to her with a smile. “Hey guys, this is Y/n, a close friend of mine back from an old project I was in.” Leah greeted, gesturing towards you.

“Hi, I’m Aryan Simhradi.” Aryan smiled, nodding towards you as Walker also introduced himself. “And I’m Walker. Scobell, Walker. Walker Scobell.” He whispered something under his breath for embarrassing himself a bit.

You chuckle, shaking his hand. “Y/n L/n, pleasure to finally meet you.” He looked at you confused and repeated your words, “To finally meet me?”

“Right, sorry, I probably sound insane.” You laugh to yourself, blushing a bit as you felt self conscious. “Leah would always talk about you and Aryan, and I was a big fan of you since your movie ‘The Adam project’.”

He nods in acknowledgment, “oh, I see. Good things I hope?” He smiled softly.

“Yeah, totally.” You return the smile. “I like your shirt, by the way. Blue really suits you.”

His smile only grew, a light tint of pink covering his cheeks. Someone wouldn’t usually get him like that so he was confused, but he liked the feeling. “Thanks, I like your hair. It’s pretty.”

You haven’t even noticed Leah and Aryan already gone, leaving you and Walker alone together. You guys got to know each other more and even gave a little complimenting back and forth.

—

Later came the time for him to greet fans and take pictures, along with autographs and sign the board. During that time, he also talked to you and fans were ecstatic to see you as well— Mostly because they knew you from the big role you played in (your show of choice).

After the pictures and chats were over with, you guys talked some more. “No way, you were actually into the show that much?” Walker asked meekly, surprised that you watched the show all in one day to catch up on what’s happening.

“I mean, yeah. Its amazing! You played the role well, honestly.” You said, waving your hands to prove your point.

“That’s impressive, actually. I’m flattered.” He laughed to himself. He felt himself drawn to you, your bubbly personality and that killer smile. He loved the way you would talk about your interests and he found it adorable when your eyes would light up on the topic you liked.

You too felt that way, you loved his presence and you instantly felt comfortable and easy to talk to. It felt like you had known him for years. You felt your chest clench, but in a good way— and whenever he would compliment you, you’d find yourself turning red. Everyone’s dream, am I right?

Leah and Aryan were not oblivious, they caught on to you two and noticed your guys’ faces when you looked at each other. They giggled like school girls and talked about you two from afar until it was time for them to go home.

You said your goodbyes to Walker and the others and hop into the car with an exhausted sigh. Turning your head to meet Leah’s smirking face, “what?”

“Oh nothing, just had a great time. You?” She asked, getting comfortable in her seat.

“Yeah, it was great actually. Thanks for inviting me.” You reply, blushing a bit at the fact that you talked to the Walker Scobell and did light flirting.

—

It wasn’t long for fans to pick up on you two as well, videos going viral of you two together at the pier. You were in your room scrolling through tiktok when you found a video of you and walker talking to each other, giving bright smiles.

Your Instagram blew up as well, getting tons of notifications from being tagged and getting new followers. Getting interested in the news, you found yourself tapping on the page and smile to yourself.

Instagram:

Liked by: leahsavajeffries and 12,309 others

Walkersfangirl21: is no one gonna talk about how Walker and Y/n look at each other??

Comments:

User1: RIGHT?? Like, they’re so cute together omg 😔

User2: they def have feelings for each other, fight me.

User3: NOO my man 💔

—> User2: HELP ??? User3

User4: fandom bouta go crazy 😭 they look good tg ngl

Y/nsliver: she’s so pretty 🙁 they compliment each other so well!!

You scrolled through the comments, giggling to yourself like a little girl until you got another notification: walker.scobell followed you. now

Immediately sitting up on your bed, you got a message from him. Your heart was beating to fast it felt like it was about to explode.

Walker Scobell:

Hey! Finally found your insta

I couldn’t get it beforehand because I forgot to ask for it :/

You:

Hey, what’s up? No way you spent your time trying to find my account 😭

Walker Scobell:

Okay.. you caught me. I didn’t actually spend my time to look for it. I went on Leah’s account following and searched your name, who can blame me?

You:

lol, work smarter not harder.

Walker Scobell:

Exactly! Anyways, I had a question for you?

You:

Yeah, what is it? I’m a bit nervous.

Walker Scobell:

Trust me, I am too 😭 but I’d like to say that I enjoyed my time with you this evening and I’d like to know more about you? I like how you are

Hopefully that didn’t sound creepy oh my gosh.

Like, what I meant to say is I like your energy?

You:

Yeah, of course! On text? Or…

Walker Scobell:

We can hang out? Go to an arcade or something. Whatever you want to be honest.

You:

Are you asking me out on a date?

Walker Scobell:

If I say yes is that a yes? Cause if not, I might actually die.

You:

LOL it’s a yes, I would love to go out :)

Walker Scobell:

Great! Text me the details when you figure it out? (I totally didn’t just have a panic attack.)

You:

Yeah, I will! (Same tbh)

Walker Scobell:

Okay awesome… uh, wanna ft?

You:

Ofc!!! Here’s my # xxx-xxxx

Hi guys!! I hope you guys enjoyed it… I’m not sure how to feel about this 😭 please send any requests 🤍🤍 xx

#fanfic #walker scobell #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy series #percy pjo #x reader #fem reader #fanfiction #fandom #drabble #oneshot

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beelinx · 5 months ago

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Hi, how are you? I've a request for Percy Jackson, I just don't know if I want a headcanon or a oneshot, so I'll leave it to whatever you prefer, well, I've been thinking about something where the reader is Athena's daughter, so the reader is kind of a toy for Athena to use, and the reader has a terrible relationship with her father, like, really horrible. And she's having a bad day and all she wants is to hug Percy to know that she's loved, but maybe Percy is busy with something of his own, training or helping a friend of his and the reader doesn't want to be a bother, and she also doesn't know how to ask Percy for affection, so she just stays in Percy's company, following him around like a lost puppy, and eventually Percy realizes that something is wrong, then they hug and kiss and have lots of affection and cuteness.

Thank youuu🤍

a/n: hii tysm for the request ! 🫶 it was lovely and i hope i did it justice <3 warnings: fem!reader though it’s not stated very much. angst w/ a happy ending !! 1.4k words

the grounds of camp-half blood usually served as comfort to many half-bloods. it was a safe haven, a place away from monsters and somewhere to socialize with fellow demigods.

today, though, it felt everything but a safe haven for you.

well, you guess it was kinda nice to have time away from your father. it wasn’t uncommon by any means for demigods to have rocky relationships with their mortal parents. after all, they were mortal. it was incredibly difficult for them to truly comprehend anything their children are going through.

or, sometimes they simply resented their child for how they came to be. because it’s not like the other parent is very present in their lives, so they’re basically a single parent.

your father, it seemed, resented you for that and everything else. all the opportunities you allegedly took away the very day your mother, athena, dropped you off at his door.

every day you spent at his home you seemed to get along worse. it was impossible to have a normal conversation without it ending up as an argument. an argument in which he simply refused to ever hear your side in, always believing himself to be so much smarter and superior. after all, that is why athena chose him.

no matter, you don’t need to give him any thought while you were at camp. here, you had a much bigger problem. a problem in the shape of your mother, the goddess of wisdom, athena.

it seemed that whenever she found an excuse, she would send you out on a quest. whether that is a really important and dangerous one, or a quest that felt as silly as buying groceries, it didn’t matter. because, truth is, you were basically a toy to her, always doing whatever she wanted.

it made you feel horrible, feeling like just a puppet in the grand game of the gods.

but you always had someone to brighten your day – your boyfriend, percy.

whenever you had one of your bad days, he always made sure to kiss you and hug you tightly, reminding you of how important you were to him and how much you mattered. he was always there, comforting you and making you laugh. percy felt like the light in the dark and twisted world of the gods.

today, your mother had given you another likely worthless task or quest for her, so all your previous feelings had once again emerged as strongly as ever.

so, naturally, today all you wanted was to be comforted by him.

however… percy seemed to be pretty occupied currently. with his training and how many campers constantly seeked his aid in training of their own, obviously wanting advice from the percy jackson — interrupting him now felt wrong. you’d feel horrible disturbing him now when he was so busy, especially since he was clearly enjoying himself.

instead, you opted for the next best thing: simply hanging around him.

percy’s company always had a way of cheering you up, even if he wasn’t fully acknowledging you. small comments like “that was fun, right?” and “did you hear what that guy said?” were around the few things he directed at you.

that’s fine, though. it was nice he was at least thinking of you.

still… you really wanted him to hug you.

the longer you spent following around like a lost puppy, the more desperate you felt. you felt so alone, so helpless. but he was busy. and it wasn’t his duty to always be around to help and comfort you. yet it seemed that’s what you always asked of him. his company, his hugs, his warmth.

“babe,” percy’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. you snapped your head towards him and blinked away the tears pooling in your eyes. you hadn’t even noticed you were crying. “are you okay?”

“um, yeah,” you replied, your voice hoarse. “i was just…” you trailed off, not able to find the words for whatever excuse your mind started fabricating.

percy scrunched his eyebrows, worry clearly etched into his features. he turned around and bid goodbye to whatever camper he was helping train now – someone from the ares cabin, you thought you remembered when he first walked up.

immediately after the very grateful camper left, percy returned his full focus back on you. your eyes were trained to the ground, feeling slightly embarrassed now.

suddenly, you felt his strong arms wrap around you. your eyes widened for a second, slightly surprised at the random (but very needed) affection – but then you closed your eyes and hugged him back, welcoming the feeling. the warmth of his hugs was exactly what you were looking for and waiting for this whole day, and suddenly you felt those very same tears you banished less than a minute ago return to your eyes.

you sobbed on his shoulder for what felt like ages. he didn’t say anything; neither of you did. percy silently held you while you cried your heart out. only sign of movement from him was when he ran his fingers through your hair, a silent way of comfort you greatly appreciated. no campers were around to interrupt you. percy and that ares kid were the only people at the training grounds today – a fact you were incredibly grateful for now.

after what was either five minutes or a full hour, you slowly pulled away.

“i’m sorry,” you finally said. luckily, your voice didn’t break, but it was close to. “i shouldn’t have interrupted you. you were busy and i-”

“no.” he cut you off. “i’m never too busy for you.”

“but i interrupted you while you were helping some camper out,” you sniffled.

“i know,” he said, “and i don’t care.”

“percy-”

“you need to tell me when you’re feeling down, okay? i want to be here for you, and i would never ever be upset with you for telling me, even if you think you’re disturbing me,” he assured you.

you were able to squeak out a small “okay” before he tenderly grabbed the sides of your face and slowly brought your lips to his. percy’s kisses always had a way of making your heart feel like it was going to explode, no matter how many times you’ve kissed. he always put all his love in them, towards you.

you only broke away once you were lacking air; your foreheads stayed pressed against one another. your eyes remained closed, it helped you focus and calm down. once you opened them, you found percy was already staring at you. he sighed and gave you a quick peck on your lips before fully separating.

percy placed one hand on each of your shoulders, “i’ll go with you.”

“what?”

“whatever your mom wants you to do, i’ll help,” he said, looking already set on the idea. “or you could tell her you don’t want to, that you’re not a toy for her to mess with. whatever it is you want to do, i’ll be with you. ‘kay?”

you smiled softly at his words, tears already threatening to come back once again. his support made you feel stronger, and while you knew standing up to your mother was not going to be easy, you knew you’d have to do it eventually. you’re glad you wouldn’t have to do it alone, though. you’d never have to face any challenge alone, because he’ll always be there for you – even if all you need is just a quick hug.

your arms wrapped around his neck, bringing him in for another hug. “thank you.”

he laughed softly, hugging you back so tightly it almost felt like you were suffocating, “let’s go get some rest first, though. you look like you need a relaxing nap.”

you raised your eyebrows. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“that i wanna cuddle?” he snickered, “or maybe that you need cuddles.”

you pulled away from the hug and rolled your eyes at him. “you,” you pointed a finger at his chest, “cannot be serious for one second, can you?”

“yes i can!”

“no, you really can’t,” you chuckled softly, “whatever, i like you just the way you are.”

it was his turn now to raise his eyebrows at you. “what’s that supposed to mean?” he said, imitating your tone for earlier.

“it means you’re a dunce.”

“hey!”

“kidding!” you laughed heartily.

he waited a bit for you to calm down from your laughing fit. then, he said, “race back to my cabin?”

you turned your gaze towards him, eyes already determined. well, it seemed he knew you well enough to know your competitive spirit loves a good race.

“you’re on, percy jackson.”

#percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #hoo x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #heroes of olympus #angst with a happy ending #one shot

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thatlotuscookie · 7 months ago

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HELLO I THINK IT WAS MY REQUEST THAT GOT DELATED! So it was something about Dabi x villain member of the lov reader. And he's a dick to her and she always thought he hated her, and she gets super drunk after one mission and calls for Dabi to take her home and when he'd driving her home, she confesses to him, tells him that he's pretty and wants to touch his face, and then giggles and tells him that she always knew he's the lost todoroki and says that she'll be Mrs. Todoroki one day. And then next day she wakes up with a terrible hangover and she doesn't remember half of the things she said, and then he says something and refers to her as Mrs. Todoroki and she gets so blushy and embarrassed 😆😆

I NEED SOME FUNNY FLUFF😂❤️

✧･ﾟ: a/n : hello!! I’m so sorry about your request getting deleted but I’ve got it here now, and I absolutely LOVE the idea! Drunk confessions are always a fun mix of hilarious and heartwarming, and Dabi dealing with it is just chef’s kiss. Plus, the whole “Mrs. Todoroki” bit? I’m living for it! I hope this gives you all the funny fluff you were hoping for. Thank you so much for your patience and for sending this gem again!

✧ Title: ✧ Mrs. Todoroki in the Making ✧ ✧ Characters: Dabi x Fem!Reader ✧ Genre: Fluff, Humor, Romance ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: After a mission, you, being drunk, call Dabi to take you home, only to spill some wild confessions about him being a Todoroki and claiming you'll be "Mrs. Todoroki" one day. ✧ Content/Tags: Fluff, Humor, Confessions, Drunk Confession, Dabi Teasing, Light Angst, Embarrassment, Established Relationship ✧ WC: 1200 words // 6.7k chars

You always thought Dabi hated you. He was all sharp edges and sarcasm, constantly making smart remarks and giving you that signature look—the one that said, you’re nothing but a nuisance. His icy blue eyes would narrow at you, and you'd just know he couldn't stand being around you. The thought didn’t exactly fill you with joy, but you did your best to ignore it.

Tonight, however, was a little different. After a particularly grueling mission, the League decided to relax with a few drinks. You, eager to let off some steam, indulged a bit too much. Soon enough, your vision blurred, and the room felt like it was spinning. The others had already left, and you were left sitting alone, a little too drunk to find your way home.

You didn't even think twice when you picked up your phone and called the one person who somehow always stuck around.

“Dabi,” you slurred, smiling lazily as the ringing in your ear echoed. “You gotta come get meee.”

On the other end of the line, Dabi sighed, but there was no harshness in his tone. “You can’t handle your liquor, huh?”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’ playfully. “Pick me up, please? I—I can't walk straight.”

Dabi didn’t hang up. Instead, with a soft grunt of acknowledgment, he drove over to where you were, and when he arrived, his expression was less irritated and more… patient? He stepped out of the car, walked over to you, and gently lifted you up, one hand supporting your back as the other steadied your legs.

“There you go,” he said softly, guiding you into the passenger seat. He was surprisingly gentle, handling you with a kind of care you didn’t expect from someone who usually radiated indifference.

You giggled, your drunken mind swirling with thoughts you never dared say out loud. As he drove, you leaned your head against the window, turning to look at him with sleepy eyes.

“Y’know…” you started, voice a little sing-songy. “You’re really pretty.”

Dabi blinked, his eyes widening ever so slightly. “What?”

“You heard me,” you said with a soft laugh. “You’re, like, really pretty. I’ve always wanted to touch your face. Can I touch your face?”

For a second, Dabi didn’t answer. He glanced at you, and instead of the annoyed sneer you expected, there was a small, almost invisible twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips. He shook his head slightly, but his voice remained gentle.

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep,” he said, but the way he glanced at you, with a softness in his eyes, gave him away.

“Nooo,” you whined. “I’m serious. You’re so pretty.”

Dabi smirked but didn't say anything. You could’ve sworn there was a hint of warmth behind that smirk, like he wasn’t brushing off your compliment but taking it in. And then, suddenly, your mind latched onto a secret you’d been keeping.

“I know who you are,” you whispered conspiratorially, leaning closer as if you were sharing the world’s greatest secret.

Dabi’s brow arched slightly. “Oh? And who’s that?”

“You’re a Todoroki,” you said, giggling. “I know it. But don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our secret.”

Dabi froze for a moment, his grip on the steering wheel tightening ever so slightly. But then, his gaze softened, and he let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head again.

“Of course,” he muttered. “What else do you know?”

You leaned back, closing your eyes, feeling the world spinning around you as you smiled dreamily. “One day… I’m gonna be Mrs. Todoroki. I’ll marry you, and we’ll live happily ever after.”

Dabi nearly laughed at that, though it wasn’t mocking. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a real smile tugging at his lips this time.

“Mrs. Todoroki, huh?” he mused, his voice soft. “That’s a bold statement.”

“Yup,” you replied, still giggling. “And you’ll love me forever and ever.”

Dabi didn’t argue. Instead, he pulled the car to a stop in front of your place, getting out and walking around to your side. This time, when he helped you out of the car, his movements were even more careful, his hand gently resting at your waist as he guided you inside.

“You okay to make it to your bed?” he asked, his tone almost… caring?

“I dunno,” you mumbled, stumbling a little as you tried to stand. Without hesitation, Dabi caught you, one arm supporting you as he led you to the couch, carefully lowering you onto the cushions.

You blinked up at him, still smiling. “Thanks, Dabi. You’re so nice to me. I like you.”

Dabi just shook his head, crouching down in front of you. His hand brushed your hair out of your face, his touch surprisingly soft. “Get some sleep. You’ll thank me later.”

“Goodnight, future hubby,” you mumbled, already drifting off.

Dabi chuckled under his breath. “Goodnight, Mrs. Todoroki.” ~~~The Next Morning~~~

You woke up to the world’s worst headache. Groaning, you sat up, rubbing your temples as fragments of the night before danced through your mind. You remembered calling Dabi, him driving you home… and then… oh no.

You froze, eyes widening as the fog of your hangover slowly lifted. “Oh god… did I—did I tell him I’d marry him?”

Just then, the door creaked open, and there he was. Dabi, leaning against the frame, arms crossed, his usual smirk firmly in place. But this time, there was something softer in his expression, like he wasn’t here to make fun of you—just to tease you in the most infuriatingly gentle way possible.

“Morning, Mrs. Todoroki,” he said, his voice holding that familiar sarcastic edge but layered with something else—something playful.

You wanted to die on the spot. “No… please tell me I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, you did,” he said, stepping closer, his smirk growing wider. “You called me pretty, said you knew my ‘secret,’ and then declared you were gonna marry me one day.”

Your face flushed a deep red. “I was drunk! I didn’t mean it!”

Dabi chuckled, crouching down to meet your gaze. His hand reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You sure? You seemed pretty confident last night.”

“I—I was… I don’t…” you stammered, your heart racing as his touch lingered for just a second too long.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea, Mrs. Todoroki.”

“I… you think so?” you asked, still flustered but unable to ignore your stomach growling in response.

“Yeah, so get up,” he said, nudging you gently. “You need to eat something before you die of a hangover.”

You finally looked up at him, gratitude flooding your senses. “Thanks, Dabi. Really.”

He smirked, his earlier teasing replaced by something gentler. “Just don’t make it a habit to call me when you’re drunk, okay?”

You nodded, still feeling the embarrassment creep into your cheeks. “Okay. But if I do, just know I really mean it about being Mrs. Todoroki.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t hide the smile creeping onto his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get you some food first.”

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