#threw those choices together off the top of my head

[funnyexel]

what if your stalker loses the remaining piece of human decency he has left

okay.

he was scaring you, acting extremely scary and out of character in your eyes. even if that's who he's always been under the mask...

"no. stay longer." he demanded said.

"it's getting late, and I've been with you for a few days." you replied back, still trying to be polite and understanding in some way. you kept a comfortable smile on your face as you continued, "remember what I said about having time to miss me?"

he didn't want to hear that shit. you said this so often that it actually made him not want to hear your voice. even with the rampant thoughts of wanting to grab the nearest fabric and shove it in your mouth to shut you up, he brushed his hair back to express mild frustration with your words.

and with all this conversation, you still didn't make a definite move. you didn't get up, you didn't sternly say you were leaving and you definitely didn't get up to automatically pack up your things.

"stay." the shorter his phrases got, the shorter his temper got as well and your patience was getting worn too. you try to be a patient person but when he acts so entitled and childish, you can't help the awkward yet strained laugh that comes from your chest.

"I can't do it. I need to go back to my house." you were stern and here comes the attempt the remove yourself from the premises.

you got up from your laying position on the bed and closed up your already packed bag, you planned this, you planned to leave today and you were executing it.

you could feel the adamant stare on your back coming from him. you rolled your eyes and shook your head. you have a minuscule understanding of what's going on in his head, quite minuscule compared to what is actually going on.

"I won't say it again." you look over to him and tilt your head, you were perplexed by his word choice.

"oh, don't be so dramatic." you utter as you put on sweatpants and you thought he was simply trying to intimidate you with his harsh tone and odd wording. but you were naïve to the obvious signs.

he considered letting you go but the way you looked in those sweats, his sweats. he couldn't. not this time.

he grabbed you by the neck, his thumb on one side of your jaw while his four fingers are on the other side. with his chest pressed up against your back, he pushed the bedroom door closed. he was breathing heavily.

like breathing uncomfortably down your ear.

you mistakenly utter his name and his thumb that was fitted on your jaw, pressed your lips together firmly.

he was clicking his tongue as you felt his head shake next to yours. as your chest was raising and falling noticeably, his icy hand slithered up your shirt and you felt a chilling sensation from your sternum to the top of your esophagus.

you felt your resolve shattering under him as he ripped the bag from your hands and spun you around. he couldn't even began to forge together any words as he brought your face close to his. your scent intoxicating him once more and he feels that certain emotion snap inside of him.

something that held him back from taking in all of you.

pushing you down onto the bed, it didn't feel like how it usually did, soft and welcoming, it felt hard and stringent. he grabs your wrist harshly and you couldn't take your eyes off of him. but his actions were still full of intent as you felt your wrist binded to the bed.

you don't know how to feel. one moment you are protesting loudly and kicking at him and the next you are moaning when he so much as squeezes and twists your nipple through your shirt.

he refused to prep you and give you that sense of pleasure, like this was supposed to be pleasureful, it wasn't. as he had you on your back—right wrist tightly tied onto the bedframe—he made you put your feet on his chest. sadistically, wanting to feel you push away from him as he pushed into you raw. it hurt. like hell.

your free hand pushed your hair harshly out your face as you threw your head back on the bed and in this specific moment he felt your resistance the most. but at the same time he felt the way you were desperately pulling him in and in. like you were just begging him to touch your cervix.

he was pushing in slowly, slow and shallow thrusts into you and rubbing your clit ever-so-often even if you obviously didn't deserve it. he wants to hear those sweet moans, even if those whiny pleads are ruining the experience.

he can't focus on your walls suffocating his dick when all you're doing is crying your heart out. with a clear irritation he pushes down on your stomach as he leans over to get a piece of tightly woven rope. you didn't get a moment to slap him away as he was already looming over you, forcefully putting the rope over your mouth and around your head. tying it tight enough so it won't come off and it will effectively muffle those loud and annoying cries.

"I don't want to hear you speak."

you were expecting a quaint 'understand?' from him but the question would've been a waste of breath because of the way your body forced itself to relax under him.

at this moment he straightened your bent legs and put them on his shoulders, folding your body in half as he stayed at an acute angle. the tears and snot running down your face shouldn't have egged him on into ramming into you harder, faster, and dry especially.

but by the time he was leg up and full on pounding into you, you were wet enough for it. you were turned on by this, by him and his authority.

at least.

that's what he was getting from this.

you bite down on the rope as you whine through yet another orgasm and you sniffle up the snot as your free hand claws into the bed. its like you were scared to touch him. and that did hurt him a bit when he realized but the warmth. the look of vulnerability in your eyes as he does nothing but bully your gummy walls, is as addicting as drugs to him.

panting like a dog above you, he completely stops for a moment. clearly getting lightheaded as he puts one hand next to your head for stability. your eyes shoot open at the suddenness of his movements and as your eyes lock, he gives you such a conceited smirk.

pleased with his actions.

even when he's clearly overexerting himself from how pussy drunk he is.

he takes a huge breath, sitting upright and running his fingers through his hair. yanking your lifeless legs to his chest, he shifts his technique to quick and shallow thrusts. your body jolting violently against your will. but this is what he wants.

against your will.

this is his will.

this is what he wants from you.

he wants you to cum, over and over and over again until you get it into your thick head.

you have no will.

and because you have no will to control your bodily functions, your bound hand clenched in a tight fist as you cum again.

you had a wicked imprint across your face and your wrist was blood red. you couldn't didn't leave. not until he said so. and he didn't say so.

not yet.

leaning down to your ear, his hand squeezes your arm tightly as you sat in his suffocating embrace. stiff in his arms as you didn't want to engage in any touch with him. it angered him.

"do I need to use the rope again."

the dead tone he used in combination to his slow pace of words sent a sharp shiver down your spine.

with a soft exhale of a shaky breath, you hesitantly shake your head and his draped arm tugs you impossibly closer to his side.

"good." he gave you a small belittling pat on your forearm as he kissed your forehead and he's quite proud to call himself

your boyfriend.

a/n: someone pls take this trope away from me. anyway thats all for now, literally can't stop thinking about the possibilities for this. thanks to the anons that were asking for more! honestly made me more incline to post.

more writing

[wherethefireliliesgrow]

Make You Remember

Yoo Jimin (Karina) x Reader

GENRE: angst, fluff

TYPE: One Shot

Inspired by: Make You Remember - Lazy Weekends

A/N: i’ve been in a writing slump this year, but every now and then, i’d come here to read. recently, a few pieces caught my attention and reignited my urge to write. so, here we are! while revisiting my 2018 spotify playlists for a dose of nostalgia, i stumbled upon one of my favorite songs from back then—it felt like the perfect way to ease back into writing. (a little shoutout to 2cool-2die, her stories were what got me back into writing). anyway, hope you all enjoy the story!

“Stop staring at her like a creep,” Minjeong whispered, her large eyes narrowing in a protective glare.

Jimin couldn’t help herself. She had been watching you for the past hour—watching the way you threw your head back in laughter at something your friends said or carefully picked the tomatoes off your sandwich to hand them off to someone else. Her fists clenched at the sight.

You used to pluck off tomatoes and feed them to her, letting her play your knight in shining armor against your sworn enemy: tomatoes. It should’ve been her.

Oh, how she missed that smile you used to reserve just for her.

“Dude, I’m serious,” Minjeong hissed again, this time throwing a balled-up tissue at Jimin’s face. “This is getting out of hand.”

Jimin grunted in annoyance, lazily stretching her long arms overhead before sprawling out on the metal bench. Her head landed on Aeri’s lap as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“I can’t help it. I miss her,” she admitted quietly, closing her eyes as Aeri absentmindedly began combing through her soft raven-black hair with her fingers.

“Well, you should’ve done better,” NingNing said flatly, taking a deep drag from her Juul. “She really loved you, you know.”

The girls expected Jimin to snap back, as she always did. Instead, they watched her deflate entirely, burrowing her face into Aeri’s stomach for solace.

“I know.”

.

.

.

.

Jimin had always been sure of herself. She was proud of her decisions, every one of them. After all, she had transferred from one of the top universities in the UK to pursue her passion for dance in Korea—a choice that went against her parents’ wishes. They had warned her about the instability of a dance career, but she’d proved them wrong.

She had met Minjeong, Aeri, and NingNing shortly after her return, and together, they formed a dance group. Now in her third year of university, Jimin was part of AESPA, a group that had skyrocketed to fame after winning first place in a national competition.

With a growing fanbase, a promising future, and an upcoming performance in front of the president at the annual ceremony, Jimin had every reason to be proud of her choices.

Every reason—except for letting you go.

She had met you during her first year back in Korea. You were the university’s student ambassador, tasked with introducing new students to campus life. Since she was the only mid-semester transfer at the time, Jimin had the luck of spending the entire day with you, just the two of you.

You captivated her immediately. Your soft, angelic voice, dry sense of humor, and those big brown eyes that lit up with excitement over the smallest things…like the library. Jimin had thought you were the lamest, cutest little thing she’d ever met. And from that moment, she was hooked.

Jimin made it her mission to sweep you off your feet. Surprised but not surprised, you had plenty of admirers. You were popular, down-to-earth, and undeniably beautiful, the kind of person who effortlessly drew others in. That only made Jimin's task harder, pushing her to work tirelessly to win your heart.

To everyone else, you were the classy student ambassador, smart, athletic, and poised. But Jimin knew the truth: beneath all that polish, you were a total nerd. 

So, she went out of her way to prove how much she cared. She’d pick you up from class with your favorite snacks, even when her schedule was packed.

She once secretly drove across state lines to attend an anime expo, just to get you those rare Pokémon cards you’d been obsessing over…though she swore she lost at least a million cool points doing it. But every second was worth it when she saw your face light up. Jimin even sat through every Avengers movie, biting back sarcastic remarks just to see you smile. 

Before long, you were hers and she was yours. You found yourself snuggled into her arms during late-night movie marathons, or cheering from backstage as she started entering dance competitions.

You were her there to support when she doubted herself after losing a dance battle, always ready with a hug and soft kisses. You were AESPA's unofficial fifth member, helping them set up for street performances and cheering louder than anyone else when they won.

And when AESPA skyrocketed to fame, you stood faithfully by her side, despite the growing distance you felt creeping in. 

But fame did something to Jimin. Slowly, the girl who once drove hours for Pokémon cards began to lose sight of the things that mattered. You were the first to notice the changes. Jimin started craving the spotlight more than anything else, and you quietly faded into the shadows.

You stopped bringing up your hobbies after a fan on her livestream mocked you for being childish. You stopped asking her for late-night drives when her excuses became more frequent. And you stopped waiting for her to notice how tired you looked, how empty you felt. 

She didn’t notice when you began packing up your prized Pokémon collection, throwing it all away as if erasing a piece of yourself. She didn’t notice when you started leaving events early, hiding the hurt behind a polite smile. Jimin was so caught up in her world of adoration, flashing lights, and applause that she failed to see you slipping through her fingers. 

She didn’t notice until it was far too late. By the time she turned around, desperate to hold onto what was left, you were already gone. She had lost you. And in losing you, she lost the part of herself that had once felt complete.

.

.

.

.

“C’mon, Jimin. Get out of your head.” Jimin slapped her forehead in frustration as she stumbled through the routine once again.

The sound of sneakers squeaking on the polished floor was followed by a collective groan from the rest of the girls, who collapsed onto the studio floor in exhaustion. AESPA was under pressure. They were supposed to perfect a dance routine for a massive ad collaboration, a career-defining moment. But with finals looming and the team juggling school and practice, their patience was wearing thin. 

“I’m really sorry, guys,” Jimin said quietly, glancing at her exhausted teammates sprawled on the floor.

Aeri’s pink hair stuck to her damp face, and Minjeong lay flat on her back, staring blankly at the ceiling like she’d lost her will to live. 

“It’s been three months, Jimin.” NingNing sighed, rubbing her temples. “When are you going to get over her? This isn’t like you.” 

“I’m trying,” Jimin muttered, her gaze locked on her scuffed sneakers, her throat tight with unshed tears. “But at the same time…I don’t want to.” 

“Well, what do you want, then?” Aeri asked, sitting up with a tired glare.

She was drained. She was tired of practice, of exams, and most of all, of watching her leader spiral into a deep abyss of self-hatred and regret in front of her. 

Jimin hesitated, her dark brows knitting together as if weighing the weight of her answer.

“I want her back,” she finally admitted. “I want Y/N back.” 

“Absolutely not,” Minjeong snapped, suddenly sitting up and joining the conversation. Her arms crossed, and her expression was livid. “You broke her, Jimin. You fucking broke her heart.” 

Jimin lowered her head, guilt weighing heavy on her shoulders, but her she had already made this decision days ago. After finding one of your old LEGO pieces buried under her bed, a reminder of simpler, happier times, she had cradled it in her hands and cried like a baby.

That night, she spiraled into a social media stalking session, scrolling through your photos, searching for any trace of the love she had destroyed. That was when she decided she’d do whatever it took to make things right. 

“I’ll treat her right this time,” Jimin whispered, her voice trembling.

“I’ll do anything to make her happy.” 

Minjeong stood abruptly, storming over to Jimin, her smaller frame radiating fiery anger. Despite the height difference, Jimin instinctively cowered under Minjeong’s glare. 

“Do you know how many times she came to me crying in the middle of the night because you couldn’t even show up for a date? How insecure you made her feel? How your stupid fangirls tore her apart?” Minjeong jabbed a finger into Jimin’s chest with every accusation.

“She’s my best friend, Jimin. I won’t let you hurt her again. She gave you everything. She gave you so many chances, and you let her down every single time.” 

The room crackled with tension as Jimin’s lips parted to respond, but no words came out. Sensing a fight about to break out, NingNing and Aeri hurriedly stepped between the two girls. 

“Hey, now’s not the time to fight,” NingNing said gently, wrapping her arms around Minjeong’s shoulders to pull her back. “We all care about Y/N, okay? Let’s take a second.” 

“Please,” Jimin pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. Tears rimmed her eyes, but there was an earnestness in her tone that softened her hardened edges.

“Just give me a chance. I swear I’ll never hurt her again.” 

“No. No fucking way,” Minjeong snapped, her voice firm. 

“How about we let Y/N decide herself?” Aeri suggested cautiously, flinching slightly under Minjeong’s searing glare.

“Jimin can talk to her. If she says no…then that’s it. Jimin walks away and never bothers her again.” 

The blonde hesitated. She knew how deeply you had loved Jimin and how much it had cost you when things fell apart. Letting Jimin reach out could undo all the progress you’d made. But at the same time…if she stopped this, would you resent her for it? 

With a heavy sigh, Minjeong finally relented. “Fine. Just one sentence. If she reacts badly to whatever you say, you stay the hell away from her. For good.” 

Jimin’s lips curved into a genuine smile for the first time in months, a smile full of hope, the kind that crinkled the corners of her eyes.

“One sentence is more than enough to make her remember.”

.

.

.

.

They say the easiest way to someone's heart is through their stomach, so Jimin threw herself into her first mission with relentless determination. The five-hour drive to Busan and back didn’t faze her—this was for you. She needed to remind you of the small things, the little joys you used to share.

The memory of your trips together flooded her mind: your hand in hers, your voice belting off tune to whichever K-pop song was stuck in your head, and your infectious laughter filling the car. She prayed to the gods to hear that laugh again. 

By the time she returned to Seoul, the darkness of the night had already cloaked the streets. Armed with the pink box of macarons from your hometown bakery, Jimin’s heart raced with anticipation and dread. Aeri had passed along a tip (reluctantly overheard from Minjeong, who would never willingly disclose your whereabouts to Jimin) that you were working a shift at the local bistro. 

When Jimin walked into the cozy bistro, the soft chime of the bell drew attention from other patrons. Murmurs rippled through the room as people recognized her, AESPA’s leader, a rising star. But Jimin’s focus was on you. Only you. 

You stood behind the counter, your hair tied up in a messy bun, concentrated on preparing a tray of drinks. You weren’t as put-together as you are in school, with your crisp white shirt bearing faint creases, but to Jimin, you were as breathtaking as ever. 

She made her way to the counter, sitting directly in front of you. She waited, patient and quiet, as you prepared another Long Island, your tongue sticking out in concentration. 

“Hi, sorry for the wait. What can I—” You froze mid-sentence as your eyes met hers.

Recognition flickered across your face, followed by a flash of pain. Your expression changed into something cold, guarded. 

“No.” Your tone was flat, final. “Please leave.” 

Jimin didn’t flinch. Her gaze softened, a melancholic smile tugging at her lips. She didn’t respond, she couldn’t. Not yet, she only had one chance. All she knew was that seeing you here within an arms length, was enough to momentarily soothe the ache in her chest. 

As much as you tried to suppress it, your heart betrayed you, fluttering at the sight of her. Jimin looked effortlessly stunning, her leather jacket rolled up to reveal familiar tattoos snaking down her forearm. She was exactly how you remembered and yet entirely different. 

She stared at you for another moment, her silence unnerving. Her eyes brimmed with emotions you couldn’t understand. Finally, Jimin rose to her feet, placed the pink box on the counter, and lightly squeezed your arm before turning to leave. 

You stared at the box, stunned, your mind reeling. It was from your favorite bakery in Busan, the one she had driven hours to visit countless times when you were together. Your chest tightened as you realized the lengths she must’ve gone to for this gesture. 

But you couldn’t let yourself fall for her again. Not this time. 

“I’ll be right back!” you yelled to your coworker, grabbing the box as you stormed out of the bistro.

The cold November air bit at your skin as you scanned the street for her. 

You found her leaning against a lamppost, a cigarette dangling from her lips. The sight stopped you in your tracks. When had she started smoking again? Fury flared in your chest. You strode toward her, plucking the cigarette from her fingers and tossing it to the ground. 

“What the hell, Jimin?” you snapped, glaring at her. “I thought you quit.” 

She continued to stay silent, her dark eyes fixed on you as if trying to engrave your face in her memories.

Your anger wavered. You shouldn’t care. You couldn’t care. Not after everything. Shoving the pink box back into her hands, you hissed, “Don’t ever come to this bistro again.” 

The words tasted bitter, and regret coiled in your stomach the moment they left your lips. But you couldn’t take them back. Not now. 

Jimin nodded wordlessly, her lips curling into a soft, bittersweet smile—one that inexplicably cut deeper than any argument could. With that, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the cold night. 

.

.

.

.

It seemed after that night, Jimin had made it her mission to claw her way back into your life, whether you wanted her to or not. She didn’t speak, didn’t push, but her presence was always there, an unspoken reminder of everything you’d once shared.

You could feel her eyes on you during lunch, lingering from across the cafeteria as if she thought she could will you to look back. Even on your way to work, you swore you’d catch her silhouette in the distance, leaning against a lamppost or sitting on a nearby bench, always careful not to cross any boundaries but still there.

The weekends were no escape either. When AESPA was invited to perform at the school fair you unfortunately was in charge of organizing, it felt like fate, or perhaps Jimin, was mocking you. She stood front and center, capturing attention with her effortless charm, but every so often her eyes would search for yours in the crowd, a desperate glance that left you feeling raw and exposed.

What annoyed you most, though, was her silence. She never spoke to you, never tried to bridge the impossible gap between you. And yet, as much as it infuriated you, you hated to admit how much you missed her voice.

The way it would rasp slightly in the mornings when she whispered sweet nothings into your ear, or the confident drawl she carried when talking to others.

This Jimin, silent and unsure, almost timid, felt like a stranger. It was disarming, and you weren’t sure if you hated her for it or if it broke your heart just a little more.

As much as you tried to build walls around yourself, Jimin had a way of chipping at them, bit by bit, with gestures that felt achingly familiar.

One evening when you finally left the library, you found a gift on the hood of your car, neatly wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, was a book you had mentioned loving once, years ago before you got together with her, a rare edition of poetry that you never got the chance to buy.

Tucked inside was a small card with her unmistakable handwriting:

For when you need an escape.– J

Your heart twisted painfully, remembering how she used to surprise you with little things like this, whether it was a book, a drink she knew you loved, or a random trinket that reminded her of you.

Another day, on your way home from a long shift, you found her waiting by the campus fountain. She didn’t approach, didn’t say anything, just held out a single stem of a sunflower, your favorite flower, the kind she used to bring to your dorm every time you aced an exam.

You wanted to yell at her, to demand why she was doing this now, but instead, you took the flower silently, clutching it tightly all the way home.

The memories came rushing back. The way she used to sit with you for hours in the library, pretending to study but really just stealing glances at you over the top of her books. How she’d wake up early to walk you to class, even if it meant cutting her own sleep short. The nights she stayed up late with you on the phone, talking about nothing and everything until you both fell asleep to the sound of each other's breathing.

Jimin knew exactly how to unravel you, and she was relentless in her quiet persistence.

Another day, after a particularly stressful day, you find yourself staring at a box left outside your apartment. Inside was a Slowpoke doll (you used to call her your SlowPoke because she was always running late and had a knack for falling asleep in random places) and a note: 

I know how these made you feel like you weren’t good enough, but these are the things I love about you. All your interests, your little habits…don’t stop.

You shoved the box under your bed in a haze of shame and anger. You’d given up your obsession with Pokémon long ago, sacrificing that part of yourself just to appease her fans and their cruel remarks. But as the days stretched on, your resolve wavered. You caught yourself glancing at the box more often than you cared to admit, the memories flooding into your mind. 

Eventually, you couldn’t help yourself. With a reluctant sigh, you pulled the Slowpoke doll from the box and placed it on your bed. That night, you held it close as you drifted off to sleep, comforted by a piece of the past you thought you’d lost. 

Each gesture tugged at the guarded heart. You hated her for how easily she slipped back into your life, even as you found yourself clutching the flower she’d given you, rereading her notes late into the night, and biting your lip to suppress the warmth spreading in your chest.

You hated her, and yet, you couldn’t deny your feelings for her. You never could.

.

.

.

.

You wrapped your scarf tightly around your neck, shielding yourself from the brisk evening wind as you waited for Minjeong outside the movie theater.

The newest Marvel movie had finally been released, and although you’d downplayed your excitement, your heart raced. Your lame obsession with Avengers had always been a sore spot, especially since Jimin’s fangirls used it to mock you mercilessly.

Over time, you tried to bury that part of yourself, to hide how much you still adored superheroes. It was easier than facing the ridicule—or the memories tied to it. 

When Minjeong, your best friend since elementary school, asked if you wanted to see the movie, you hesitated at first. But her easy acceptance of your quirks had always been earnest, so you agreed.

The sound of tires crunching gravel pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked up to see a sleek black Mercedes pulling into the parking lot. Minjeong stepped out, her face drawn in a disgruntled scowl. She spotted you and quickly brightened, crossing the space in a few brisk strides before pulling you into a warm hug. 

“Hey, Y/N-nie. Have you been waiting long?” she asked, her voice light, though her body was stiff against yours. 

You shook your head, but something about her demeanor made you pause. Your gaze drifted back to the car, the sleek black exterior gleaming under the parking lot lights. A pit formed in your stomach as realization hit. 

“Was that… Jimin?” you asked cautiously. 

Minjeong froze. Her jaw tightened, her grip on your arms faltering slightly before she let out a resigned sigh. She avoided your eyes as she nodded.

“Yeah,” she admitted reluctantly. 

“She’s the one who asked me to bring you here,” Minjeong added after a pause. Her tone was careful, measured, as though she were treading on thin ice. “She even bought the tickets beforehand.” 

You blinked at her, stunned. 

“I didn’t want to do it,” Minjeong continued quickly, frustration in her voice. “I told her this was a bad idea, but…” She trailed off, biting her lip as her gaze dropped to the ground.

“She was persistent.” 

Your heart did a strange flip at that. You could almost picture Jimin sitting across from Minjeong, stubborn as ever, insisting that she take you to the movie. She must have known showing up herself would only push you away, so she found a way to make sure you’d still see it. It was so… Jimin. Thoughtful in a way that made your chest ache. 

“She’s been doing things like this for weeks,” Minjeong muttered, almost to herself. “Little things. She thinks they’ll fix everything.” Her round eyes flickered with an anger she didn’t bother to hide.

“I told her to leave you alone. I told her you didn’t need her messing things up again.” 

“She hasn’t been bothering me,” you said softly, reaching out to squeeze Minjeong’s hand in reassurance when her voice grew sharp.

“I promise, Jeongnie. She hasn’t done anything. Don’t worry.” 

Minjeong’s shoulders sagged slightly, but her lips pressed into a tight line. “Has she talked to you yet?” 

You shook your head. “No. Weirdly, she hasn’t said a word. Just… left some gifts every now and then.” 

At that, Minjeong’s eyes widened, and she groaned, slapping her forehead.

“I’m so stupid,” she muttered, half to herself. 

“What?” you asked, confused by her sudden exasperation. 

She shook her head quickly, waving the question away. “Nothing. Come on, let’s go inside. The movie’s about to start.” 

As she guided you toward the theater, her arm looped protectively through yours. Though Minjeong was close friends with the leader, it was clear she didn’t like Jimin trying to worm her way back into your life.

You could see it in the tightness of her jaw, the subtle furrow in her brow. She didn’t trust Jimin. Not her promises, not her intentions, and certainly not her ability to heal the wounds she’d caused. After all, it had been Minjeong who had patiently helped you piece yourself back together, bit by bit.

And yet, the fact that she’d brought you here today, using Jimin’s tickets, betrayed the tiny sliver of hope she held for her.

.

.

.

.

This was the fifth time that day Jimin walked past the bistro, casually peering through the windows with her hands stuffed in her leather jacket pockets before walking away.

You watched her each time, fidgeting, kicking the ground with her boots, looking like she wanted to step inside but was holding back. It was endearing, not that you’d admit it. But every time, she chose to walk away, opting to follow your words from before instead.

It had begun to snow, and you couldn’t stop yourself from worrying.

“Stupid oaf,” you muttered, before slipping outside to call out Jimin’s name.

She was already on her sixth round of circling the bistro, her slender figure blending into the gray snowfall.

“Yoo Jimin!” You called, your breath forming a cloud in the cold air.

The raven-haired girl stopped in her tracks, her shoulders stiffening before she slowly turned around to look at you. A nervous grin tugged at her lips, and your heart fluttered involuntarily.

“Just…just come in.” You sighed, avoiding her gaze.

Jimin’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling with glee like a little kid as she quickly made her way over.

You led her through the busy bistro, past the tables full of customers, to the counter, exactly where she had sat the first time she came. You couldn’t help but feel self-conscious at the way she was staring at you, her face resting in her palms, eyes wide and starry.

Sighing, you pushed the menu to her. “What do you want to order?”

Jimin merely looked at you, a silly smile gracing her lips. Your eyes flickered to it, momentarily lost in the soft curve of her mouth and her luscious lips, before quickly looking away.

“Fine.” You mumbled, quickly pouring her a cup of warm coffee.

Fortunately, you were distracted by the steady stream of orders. It was a Saturday night, after all, and that meant people were coming in for drinks. You were busy making drinks, serving them, but with Jimin there, it felt different, lighter, happier.

That was when Joon, a usual customer and a tall, blurry figure, stumbled over to the counter, clearly drunk. You tensed instantly. Joon was always handsy when he drank, more often than not, and you always tried to stay out of his way.

“Y/NNNNN,” he slurred, leaning way too close for comfort, his breath heavy on the counter.

Jimin’s eyes narrowed, and you saw the muscles in her jaw clench.

“I missed you,” Joon continued, leaning forward, his gaze lingering in a way that made your stomach churn.

“How about we go on a date? My place is just around the corner.”

“I’m not interested, Joon.” You pushed back, trying to create some space. “Please, leave me alone.”

Joon’s expression twisted into something more sinister, his hand suddenly reaching over the counter to grab your arm, his fingers digging into your skin. You winced at the pressure, red marks forming on your arm as he held you tight.

That’s when Jimin had had enough. She stood up, towering over him, her height equal to his, but with a quiet strength that commanded attention.

“Get. Your. Hands. Off. Her.” Her voice was cold, and before you could react, she pushed Joon off, sending him stumbling backward into the wall.

Joon recovered quickly and swung at Jimin, narrowly missing her face by a hair. You stepped forward, panic flooding your chest, quickly pulling Jimin away from him.

“Let it go, Jimin,” you urged, your voice shaky as you tugged her close to you. “Please, stop.”

Jimin hesitated, her eyes softening as she looked at you. She reached down and gently cradled the arm that Joon had grabbed, her cold fingers brushing over the tender skin, sending a shiver up your spine.

“I’m okay,” you said, trying to reassure her.

She looked like she was about to say something when a yell from your coworkers snapped your attention back to the scene. You turned just in time to see Joon charging forward, having managed to break free from the grip of your coworkers. His fist collided with Jimin’s temple with a sickening crunch, and she crumpled to the floor.

You screamed, panic rising as onlookers rushed to contain Joon. Jimin lay motionless, and you immediately knelt by her side, heart racing.

“Jimin?” You screamed, rushing to her side. The blood had already begun to trickle down her temple, and a bruise was swelling rapidly.

You knelt beside her, panic clawing at your chest. “Jimin? Baby? Please, wake up.”

You cupped her pale face in your trembling hands, her skin cool against your palms. She was so still, and it terrified you.

After a few moments of desperate attempts to rouse her, her eyelids finally fluttered open, and you let out a shaky breath of relief.

“Oh thank god,” you sighed out in relief, your chest tightening as her eyelids slowly fluttered open.

“Jimin? Can you hear me?”

Her cheeks were squished as your hands cupped her face. You might have found it cute if you weren’t so worried. Her dazed expression and the way her chubby cheeks puffed out only made your heart ache more.

“Am I dreaming?” she asked, a dopey smile still lingering on her lips.

You leaned back, running a hand through your hair in relief and exasperation.

“No, Jimin,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You just got punched. This is very real.”

Her grin faltered in realization. Her eyes widened in horror as she scrambled to sit up.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered, groaning in embarrassment, her hands shooting up to touch her tender forehead.

“Please forget I said anything. Please.”

She couldn’t believe that she wasted her only chance, her only sentence, just to ask her if you were real.

You reached out, gently stopping her from touching her injury. “Don’t touch. You’re bleeding.”

Your manager let you leave early after apologizing repeatedly to Jimin. After all, one of the biggest rising stars had just been injured in his bistro.

Jimin smiled good-naturedly and shrugged off his apologies, clearly not phased. She had refused to go to the hospital for a check-up, and unable to stop yourself, you found yourself driving her back to your apartment.

You promised yourself this was a one-time thing, that you were just being a caring, responsible friend. Anyone would’ve done the same for her, right?

As you led her into your room, she glanced around, the familiar space tugging at something in her heart. Her eyes landed on her sweatshirt that she had lost so long ago, still draped casually over the chair.

She noticed the absence of the photos on your vanity mirror, ones that once captured all the memories of the two of you. But, then, her gaze softened as it settled on the SlowPoke doll still sitting on your bed. Her heart skipped a beat. You had kept it.

You still cared, even if you seemed so distant, so far away.

Maybe, just maybe, you hadn't forgotten her love.

You paused in your tracks as you saw Jimin poking at the SlowPoke on your bed. You turned a brilliant shade of pink, flustered, before quickly ushering her to sit down so you could tend to her wound.

"Don't move," you muttered, your voice softer than you intended as you reached up gingerly to disinfect the cut on her temple.

She winced and hissed in pain but didn’t pull away, remaining still, her dark eyes never leaving your face. The closeness of your bodies was unnerving, her skin so warm under your touch, and that tight white shirt she wore, showing off her tattoos, only added to the flurry of thoughts rushing through your head.

Why did she have to be so damn beautiful?

Jimin, on the other hand, couldn’t take her eyes off you. The softness in your eyes and the gentleness of your touch, was making her heart race. She wasn’t sure if she'd ever have this chance again.

"Why are you doing this, Jimin?" you asked, your voice coming out a little more strained than you'd planned, your hands trembling as you applied a thin layer of medicine.

Jimin’s brows furrowed in confusion. "Doing what?"

"All this," you said, motioning between the two of you. "Not talking to me, but following me around... giving me gifts..."

Jimin paused, taking a deep breath, before saying, “I wanted to make you remember.”

“Remember what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you finished applying the medicine.

She let out a small breath, trying to steady herself. "Remember us."

She looked down at her hands, then back up at you, her voice growing quieter, more vulnerable. "And... make you remember my love for you."

You froze, your hands retreating from her face as your heart pounded in your chest. You searched her eyes, so open, so full of regret and hope.

And in that moment, you knew you still loved her too.

"Jimin..." You tried to form words, but your throat was tight, the emotions threatening to spill over. “I-“

Before you could finish, Jimin quickly knelt beside the bed, gently cradling your hand in hers and placing it in your lap.

“Please, give me another chance, Y/N,” she begged, the tears she had been holding back finally breaking free.

"These past few months without you have been... miserable. I know I hurt you. I know I lost myself, but I promise, I won’t let this happen again. I love everything about you, your softness, your quirky obsessions... everything. I’m sorry I didn’t reassure you when you were doubting yourself, or protect you from the hate.”

She took a shaky breath, and in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “I don’t think I could ever love anyone as much as I love you.”

Your heart clenched, the weight of her words crashing over you. The pain you had felt for so long, the loneliness that had settled deep in your soul, began to break. You missed her, but you're scared, so scared. Scared of trusting her again, scared of the hurt she could cause, scared of how much power she held over you.

“You hurt me, Jimin. So much,” you said softly, unable to keep the pain from your voice. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Jimin nodded, her face softening with understanding, though the sadness in her eyes remained. But she wasn’t giving up.

“I know,” she said, her voice steady. “But I will spend the rest of my life earning back your trust.”

And in that moment, with everything on the line, you finally gave in.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Her eyes widened, and that smile, so hopeful, so full of warmth, spread across her angelic face.

“Yes, Jimin. One chance.” You whispered, your heartbeat thudding loudly in your ears.

“Yes!” Jimin punched the air lamely, her eyes sparkling as she grabbed your hand, pulling you up effortlessly.

Before you could even react, she spun you around in a twirl, making you let out a small scream in surprise. The sudden rush of laughter filled the room as you both stumbled and collapsed onto the bed, her arms immediately wrapping around you.

.

.

.

.

The soft thud of Jimin’s heartbeat was lulling you to sleep, a comforting rhythm that calmed your racing thoughts. You gently traced the ink on her forearms, each line and curve filled with her memories. Her steady breathing was a lullaby, peaceful and steady, as you cuddled up to her.

After tending to her injury, you had given her a change of clothes, and let her stay the night. She refused to let go of you, her arms wrapped tightly around you, her lips pressing soft, affectionate kisses to your forehead. It was a strange feeling, like nothing could go wrong in that moment.

For the first time in months, your heart felt whole again, free of the old pain that had lingered too long.

But then, a thought crept into your mind. Gently, you pulled away slightly, your eyes meeting the beautiful dancer’s.

She whined, unhappy at the space between you. You laughed softly, seeing the playful pout on her lips. Outside, she was fierce, confident, and intimidating even, but here, in front of you, she was just a clingy baby.

“I wanted to ask,” you began, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, “Why did you want me to forget about what you said at the bistro? When you told me to forget it?”

A faint pink blush spread across her cheeks, and she shifted uncomfortably, not meeting your eyes.

"It was because..." she trailed off, her voice hesitant, and you gently cupped her chin, forcing  her gaze to meet yours.

“Because of what?”

"Because Minjeong said I could only talk to you once. One sentence. If you reacted badly, I would have to leave your life for good," Jimin admitted, looking away in embarrassment.

"I couldn’t believe I wasted that one sentence on asking if you were real. I was scared Minjeong would beat me up if you got mad."

You stared at her in disbelief. "That was why you refused to speak to me?"

Jimin nodded, her lips twisting into a sheepish smile.

"You’re so fucking stupid, Jimin," you muttered under your breath, shaking your head, though a fond smile tugged at your lips.

"Thank god you’re good at dancing, or else I’d be worried about your future."

"Hey!" she whined, pushing you playfully. "I’m not stupid! It’s just... Minjeong is scary when she’s mad."

Unable to hold back your endearment for this stupid lovable girl, you finally leaned down to press your lips to hers.

Jimin froze, marveling at the feel of your soft lips against hers. She had been dreaming about this moment for so long, and she quickly kissed you back with just as much enthusiasm. The kiss was soft at first, tentative before it deepened following the quickening of your heart beats.

When the air between you became a problem, you both pulled away, gasping for breath, but neither of you made a move to break the closeness. Your foreheads rested together, and for a moment, you just smiled into the space between your lips.

“What did you plan to say then?” You whispered, still breathless from the kiss, “The sentence.”

“Oh, I was going to say: Look at this cool tattoo I got.” She said mischievously, before sitting up and pulling off her shirt, leaving herself in nothing but a bra top.

You blushed immediately, eyes instinctively flicking to the defined muscles of her abs as she twisted to show you the back of her shoulders. For a moment, you couldn’t help but be distracted by the way her muscles flexed before your gaze landed on a small patch of ink on the corner of her right shoulder.

“You got a tattoo of a Charmander?” you sputtered, almost disbelieving.

“Yeah, it’s cute, right?” Jimin grinned, proud of herself.

“It reminded me of you. You have the same eyes as Charmander. And also, it’s your favorite Pokémon, so it’s a win-win.”

“Jimin, my favorite Pokémon is Chikorita…” you sighed, shaking your head in exasperation.

“Chikorita.” She repeated, her lips pursing in thought. “Not Charmander?”

“Not Charmander.”

She thought for a second, then shrugged with a grin. “At least it looks like you.”

Unable to contain yourself any longer, you grabbed the collar of her top and pulled her into another kiss, one that made her remember that you were definitely hers.

got a bit carried away so some scenes kinda dragged out 😬

but hope you all enjoyed this loserish version of jimin!

[n0tamused]

Will you stay?

A/n: save me sad dragon general, save me... sad dragon general you better get ready cause I'm sending happiness your way whether you like it or not

Content: Jiyan x Reader (fem implied, but no pronouns used), angst undertone but it all turns to fluff, Jiyan referred to as a husband, word vomit, non sexual nudity implied, not proof-read, maybe a tiny bit ooc? Feedback is appreaciated

Moonlight cascades through the open window in silky streams, showering the white sheets with silver and shimmer. The world is at peace, and quiet prevails all around, much unlike the main battle front. For only a few hours he spends here, Jiyan feels as if his lifelong wish is fulfilled. A facade it is, a dream, but it is comforting in all its delusion. Maybe one day it will come true, and he won't be forced to abandon your warm embrace for another month, and more, to fight.

His eyes move from the window and down at you where you have nestled yourself against his chest, your arms draped around him. It’s well into the depth of the night, yet both of you are denying sleep that so obviously hangs heavy over your eyelids - as any hour more means longer time spent together. And up until that point he has been listening to you talk about your days in the city, your fingertips tracing his chest and the occasional scar that paints itself thin and textured, different from the rest of his smooth skin. When you trailed off, he was quick to notice. His chin dipping slightly down to look at you.

Your finger neverending in its work of drawing him out, feeling him in all his warmth, living warmth - and your eyes lost themselves in images your mind conjured of what the battlefield looked like now. Red skies and twisted lands soiled with blood of people from the same city you were in now, the same people that were once someone’s little boys and girls, daddy’s girl and momma’s boys. Only now they were decades older with heavy bags under their eyes, lying in the desolate lands under trees for cover. 

“Don’t think about it.. don’t.. let that plague your mind, my dear” Jiyan spoke up, his hand coming up to cup yours that had begun to shake over his chest, fingers curling into your palms. Jiyan wished he could take this worry away from you, he wished he could protect you from the horrific unknown and all the terrifying images of your imagination, but such a task was an impossible one. Your bare body can only share his warmth and hold on to what is currently there.

“(Y/n).. “

“Tell me about your days..” you whispered, cutting him off as timidly as a petal of a flower. You pick your head up and place it on top of his chest, gazing into those golden eyes you had dreams of when he was gone. Pretty in all their glory, even as they regarded you with worry and question. Jiyan sighs softly, his eyes wandering to the ceiling and the small swirly patterns that show up with the moon. That was your choice to put up there, little swirls and dots and constellations..

“Days are long and tiring. I often miss the smell of the city while out at the front, and your cooking. The ingredients and supplies are scarce but we are alright, we are holding together, my dear” his words resonate softly in your ears, and to an extent they bring you comfort. His thumb is rubbing the inside of your palm, massaging the soft skin until the shakiness subsides, and furthermore. “During the down-time, when there’s no danger to confront, the soldiers always seem to find new ways to entertain themselves” at that a small smile broke over his solemn and tired features, prompting you to smile as well. He has told you before how men would jest and play, little children stuck in bodies of adults, chasing one another after one of them threw a boot at someone. It was a reminder all of these soldiers were people and that they were alive, but most importantly they still held onto their humanity and hope. So much hope that one could feel it from a mile away. 

“The other day, before our departure towards here, they were bold enough to attempt a small jest about me and it backfired, well it was unintentional frankly, I just happened to walk in on them. I suppose a new rumor broke out how I dismiss people from the military after I give them  medical assistance”

“What? That’s ridiculous.. You wouldn’t send anyone home unless they were really badly behaving or injured”

“Yes. But that doesn’t quell the rumors, especially among the new cadets, which makes me think this is some ploy of the more experienced bunch as to scare the youth But..as I was walking by the tents and corners I ran into this group huddled under the lamp, talking about this rumor. I’m not sure what came over me, but I just marched up to them and coldly began to question them, about what they were doing and such” A stupid smile came across his lips now, a childish one you relished in seeing and it make you physically perk up to hear the rest of the story. Your leg came over his waist as you tried to comfortably lay on his chest.

“One of those men had a pretty bad leg wound from the day prior, but nothing life threatening. However, he has been quite snarky with Captains and other soldiers, so I gazed at his bandaged wound, then up at him, and then I asked if he wanted me to take a look at it. The team went silent as a grave, my love- I..”

“The rumor had so much effect on them? Pfftt-” “Yes! I was quite shocked too, I had to hold back my surprise, but he went pale, I can’t even describe it to you. Whoever created this rumor really was creative, I need to give them that, but I really couldn’t play so long afterwards. I had to clear it up..”

You giggle at his words, forehead pressing against his collarbone as your chest flutters with warmth, just imagining this scenario was silly - has your husband become such a menace in the army? Him? Sure, he was skilled beyond belief, but the way he laid beneath you and the way he touched you could never make you believe he was scary. You know him, for crying out loud! And due to that, this was all the funnier.

Jiyan joined your fit of giggles, other hand rubbing and holding your back, pushing you up against his chest that jumped with cackles. “Goodness- now you’re laughing at me as well” he comments lightheartedly.

“Apologies, apologies, I can’t help myself” you respond and slowly come back to your composure with a long sigh of relief. “Those poor souls, scared by my precious husband. Perhaps I should start scolding you at home more often” Your hand sneaks from his hold and pinches his cheek teasingly, causing  him to click his tongue and pull away, reminded of the way his mother would do the same action when he was younger, although not so teasingly or playfully. His arms squeeze around your shoulders, his other arm soon joining its pursuit of keeping you still against him.

“Perhaps you should not. I missed you too much, but then again.. If scolding me is the way to hear more of your voice, I could get used to it..” Jiyan says as he releases his tight hold of you, letting you slump against his chest with a small exhale. “But now..” his lips found your forehead, pressing a lingering kiss to it before pulling away. “You must rest. I know how little sleep you got the last few days..” he says and reaches for the covers that were pushed down in your small tussle. The blanket covers your back and you instantly feel warmer, nestled here against him.

The thought of him leaving makes a pang settle in your heart once more, heavy and sharp. “Jiyan.. will you be able to stay for breakfast at least?” you ask him, hoping, wishing, praying.. just an hour will do.

“.. I will. I’ll wake you up, aright? We’ll cook something together..” There’s promise in his voice and it is undeniably prevalent and true, otherwise he would not be saying these things. Jiyan kissed your forehead again, hugging you against him and closing his eyes.

The upcoming morning suddenly became something to look forward to.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[leonw4nter]

So High School

RE4R!Leon x GN!Reader

You’d think that you would’ve learned a thing or two from making bets while tipsy and buzzing with liquid courage while intoxicated during your time in university, stupid decisions with their stupid outcomes ingrained in your head every time the tequila started to taste like water, which meant that it’s probably time to pay the tab and try to head home in one piece. A drunk man’s words really must be a sober man’s thoughts, the alcohol doing the final push to make the first move you’ve dreamed of doing towards your mysterious roommate, Leon. Him being gone for most of the time and for uncertain lengths of time gave you plenty of time to get it together and rehearse asking him for a coffee but whenever he was around, in the same space as you, it’s as if you never gathered the courage to talk to him.

“Basketball?” Leon echoed, slight confusion on his angular features as he nursed a glass of whiskey. “You sure?”

“‘Course,” you confidently respond, shooting him a sure grin. “Jus’ because I’m built like this doesn’t mean I don’t know how to ball.”

Leon chuckles, nodding before he shoots what remains in his glass. “That’s a bet. Loser buys the winner dinner, right?”

You throw him a clumsy thumbs-up. He inches closer towards you and holds his hand out for you to shake. “Gotta make it official.”

A handshake seals the deal, along with the fate that will befall you a few days later after he’s finally free from whatever work kept him occupied.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Now you’re digging around your wardrobe, looking for any sports-friendly clothing. You rarely work out or take some time off, very much out of shape so you’re already at a massive disadvantage with Leon. The man probably works out every single day, carrying the heaviest weights they have in the gym. Maybe even Leg Day’s golden boy, seeing how his thighs bulge within the confines of his pants and the way his calves looked sturdy as hell. If he somehow doesn’t know the nitty gritty of basketball and only knows the basic dribbling, you’re still going to be on the losing side because he’s got stamina and endurance that would last him hours, days even. He’s got height advantage too and it’s not that you’re tiny, it’s just going to be impossible to shoot with a skyscraper blocking the ball. Then again, it’s not like the ball will make it inside the ring even if he wasn’t doing anything to block it.

“Why’d I make that stupid, stupid bet?” You hiss to yourself as you finally snag a pair of black cotton fleece shorts. It still seemed to fit you so you threw it on the bed, moving to look for a top and some shoes to pair it with. “I’m going to lock myself in my room if I’m going to drink with him around.”

Taken over by indecisiveness yet still determined to look good while sweaty in terms of outfit choice, you decide to phone your friend for some advice. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. What’s up?”

“I’m going to play basketball in… 15 minutes and I don’t know what to pair with my shorts.” You show it off inside the frame, twirling around as your friend looks on.

“It’s just shorts, you can pair it with anything. Why’s it so hard for you?”

“You don’t get it, man. I need to look perfect, even when I’m sweaty and smelly and tomato red–”

“Are you seeing someone?!”

“What? No! Well, I mean… I think they look good and ya know, I might have to buy him dinner because there’s no way I’m winning this.”

“Buy him dinner? Oh wait, this is the bet thing right–”

“Yeah… I’m never going to drink again, actually. This is the dumbest, stupidest decision of my life.”

“You’ve said that a million times but still drank and got drunk. Look where we are now.”

“Hey! I’m serious this time! And help me plan out an outfit!”

“Well shit, I dunno! A v-neck tee and a pair of Converse sneakers, simple but you’ll look cute. Right! Make the sneakers high cut.”

“Oh my god, thanks! I think I got those–”

A few gentle knocks tap against your door, Leon on the other side. You quickly skip to the door, not opening it too generously in order to block out the sight of your clothes lying everywhere on the side of your dresser.

“I hope you didn’t forget about the deal you made,” he says with a confident smirk. “I’m looking forward to dinner actually.”

You wanted to tell him that you were in the process of getting ready, having picked out what you’ll wear. You wanted to tell him that you’ll be ready in a few, bag loaded with a spare shirt and towels slung over your shoulder but the response stays frozen in your mind, unable to escape your mouth; if you tilt your head down and dare to look somewhere south, you’ll first be greeted by two blocks of solid square muscle straining through the black, short-sleeved shirt he wore, the color slightly faded with the amount of times he must’ve worn it. The real magnet, however, was the gray sweatpants he chose to wear. Nasty, filthy images flashed through your head as soon as you caught a glimpse of gray, shaking your head to clear your brain. He topped the look off with a neat pair of gray high top Converse sneakers, the shoes not worn that much since it looked newly bought.

“You didn’t back out, did you?” Leon chuckles, sending you back to Earth. “It’s okay if you did, I don’t wanna–”

“Naw, of course not! I was just about to get ready, sorry for keeping you waiting.”

“Great, I’ll be waiting in the living room. I’ll fill up our bottles while you get dressed, also got the ball ready. Borrowed it from a friend,” he says as he points to the ball kept in the nook of his curled muscular arm.

You give him a thumbs up, closing the door as he turns around to head to the direction of the living room. Skipping to your phone and seeing that you haven’t dropped the call yet, you quickly explain what happened to your friend and end it, chucking it inside your bag as you get ready.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“This outfit has got to be a distraction tactic,” you think to yourself as you walk to the outdoor court alongside Leon, occasionally dribbling the ball. “This man knows that gray sweats are a distraction and I’m going to end up focusing on the ball that is definitely not on his hand!”

If Leon did in fact decide on his current choice of clothing as a form of distraction, it might just work on you and you dislike the fact that it’s already working before the game even began.

“I like your shoes,” he says as he gestures to the pink sneakers you chose to wear in order to contrast the white and black of your upper clothing. “It suits you well.”

You mumble a thank you, also complimenting him. “You look good in sneakers too, I think you should wear it more often.”

His twinkling laughter kicks you in the back of the knee, weak from how fuzzy it made you feel. He nods and takes a mental note before he looks back down at his shoes, glad that you noticed the influence of your fashion choices on him. 10 minutes later, you two reach the court. Chucking your bags to a quiet corner of the court, the two of you head to the middle of the court; Leon passes you the ball, giving you a headstart to try and score your first point.

“I take it that you know the rules?” He asks as he moves into a defensive stance, crouching down slightly with bent knees.

“Yup,” you respond before not wasting any time and running to his side of the ring to shoot the ball. To no one’s surprise, the ball does a little twirl right at the rim before falling back down only to be snagged by Leon’s large hand without warning. “Hey!” you squeal, running after him. He waits for you to catch up with him before he makes a jump shot, sending the ball flying and into the ring as a satisfying thwoop follows the ball's entry in the net.

He easily gains four points ahead, dodging, turning, and expertly dribbling to trick you into thinking that he let the ball out of his sight. You can’t even be frustrated that you haven’t gotten a single point ever since the game started, too delighted in the genuine laughter and giggles coming from Leon; his smiles were sparse, blue eyes an ocean storm each time he came home. A rare smile would leave just as quick you caught one on his face, his face returning to look troubled but this time, he looked free and happier than you usually see him. Now, he gained an additional 3 points and grew even cockier with the wide gap of scores, along with the non-existent possibility of you winning over him. Despite your glee at seeing Leon look relaxed, you wanted to at least end the game with a point to your name. Leon didn’t mention anything about playing dirty and although he didn’t mention it because he assumed that you knew the rules and playing dirty was automatically out of the cards, you couldn’t help but feel a little devious.

Just as Leon softly nudged you, you over exaggerated a bent ankle and fell down, most of the impact centered on the heel of your palms. Though it hurt, it didn’t hurt too badly but Leon still let go of the ball and rushed to your side, the smile disappearing as he saw you sat on the ground.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he assessed your ankle, knee, and hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to–”

You got up and ran after the ball, pushing down the guilt that started to bubble up when you saw the hurt and fear that crossed Leon’s face. Finally, you caught up with the ball and dribbled it as you ran towards the hoop, jumping to shoot it. You expected an effort in vain, the ball to simply dance around the ring before dropping down but fortunately for you, the ball went inside the ring. Satisfied with ending the game at a single point for you, you flop down to the ground as you catch your breath. Leon skips up behind you, sitting by your side before he lays back on the dusty ground alongside you.

“Hey,” he pants as he catches his breath. “That wasn’t fair.”

“Didn’t say anything about playing dirty,” you quip as you tilt your head to face him.

“Played dirty but you still didn’t win, that’s a damn shame.” He says as he also tilts his own head to face you, a small smile dancing on his lips. He seems to have smiled a lot that day, you note. “I won, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Oh shut up, don’t let it get to your head… and, uh… um… thanks for being concerned for me, when I faked falling earlier. Felt kinda bad to be lying to you.”

“Hey, no biggie. I’m thankful that this one’s fake, most people on the ground that I see at work are beyond helping so I’m glad that you’re fine.”

Your eyes widen, his words triggering concern from you. Work? People on the ground beyond helping? Just what is this guy’s job? He doesn’t explain more about his job so you don’t pry for more, waiting for the time that he’s a lot more comfortable around you to share if he wishes to.

“So,” you say to change the subject. “What kinda dinner do you want? Nothing too expensive, though.”

“A dinner with you,” he smoothly responds. You sit up, resting your weight on your arms.

“Huh?”

“I want dinner with you. Anywhere, just take me out to dinner. A date, if that’s what you want to call it. Please.”

You stay silent, taking the time to process his words. He hasn’t shown a sliver of attraction towards you so his words take you by surprise but you’re pleased– very pleased.

“A date,” you quietly echo. “Sure, sounds nice.”

“When are you free?”

“On the 20th.”

“Me too.”

“So… that’s a date then?”

He nods, grinning. He gets up first, extending a hand to you as you both begin the walk back home.

NOTE - Not rlly sure on how to end this so it ended on a meh note 😭🙏 Writer's block got my ass, unfortunately. Anyways, I think I need to get my jaw checked bc the left side of my jaw clicks and hurts when I open my mouth widely to yawn or brush my teeth so yea :3 Almost forgot to mention that the title is based off of "So High School" by TS. I gotta feed my DMC readers in AO3 too so I'll dedicate some time to cooking something for them before returning to posting more Leon fics :3 Found out Laufey has a boyfriend and I fell to my knees as if I had a chance with her in the first place but I'm still very happy that she's finally found love and trusts someone enough to treat her well. Anyways, thank you for reading my fics!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I <333333333 UUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!

The dividers (the ones with the heart and star) are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[nymphomatique]

You know, I really like your nerdy!Miguel and slutty!reader💅 Chef kiss💯

May I request a drabble where reader is going to meet her parents and she's really not happy about it? (Basically they are emotionally abusive towards her)

How would Miguel react if she just, you know, cries in his shoulder instead of fucking him like she always does?

(I'm just really into agnst sometimes, my apologies ⊂(・﹏・⊂))

P.s. English in not my first language, so I hope I wrote everything clear.

Thanks for you work!!

yes baby! and your english is perfect 🫶🏾 i hope i did ur request justice!

cw: feelings, reader going through it, emotionally neglectful parents, just a lot of feelings fr. brief mentions of sex i think, erm and barely proofread. enjoy!

you sat at your vanity in your dorm room, simply looking at yourself in the mirror. you felt like your stomach was going to drop out of your ass. you take a deep breath and hold it for a moment, hoping, praying, it grounds you.

within the reflection of your mirror, your eyes couldn’t help but focus on the figure sitting on your bed, nose buried in their laptop screen. you called miguel over with the intention of letting off steam at first, but the more you thought about it, the less it sounded like a good choice to make. so, you told him to make himself comfortable and keep you company, not without some snark of course. you feel bad sometimes, for snapping at him, letting out your anger on him, knowing he will take anything off your shoulders to bare upon his own. it crushes you inside to think about how you treat someone you care deeply about, even if you deny it to yourself.

your eyes meet in the mirror and miguel catches you looking, offering a warm smile in exchange. the moment is brief, and he returns his focus to whatever he was doing on his laptop, but as minuscule the moment, the more you feel yourself unraveling. a burning feeling crawls up your nose and you bow your head down, your face pulling downward. fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. please don’t leave me. i need you. your mind feels overwhelmed, and you can’t help the tears from falling down your cheek. you let them fall one by one, shame, guilt, and anxiety building up the more your tears spill.

your ears are ringing, you can’t. you can’t feel, you can’t see, you can’t breathe. a sob from deep within you leaves your mouth and you drop your forehead to your vanity, letting your emotion take over you. you can’t hear the soft lulling of music that you were playing while getting ready anymore, not the typing of keys from miguel. you’re so disoriented. when you feel something, someone strong and stable lift you up and bring you down onto your bed, your chest to its chest, you don’t question it. you know what it is. who it is. you let thick arms hold you, keep you together as you burst from the seams, the soft cooing and kissing lull your tears into a soft hiccup. the soft circles miguel rubs around your upper back make you realize what just happened and you’re embarrassed.

“i- i don’t- i can’t believe i-” you begin, but you’re interrupted by a soft squeeze from miguel.

“s’okay, baby,” he says softly, kissing the top of your head. “talk to me? please?”

and you decide you owe this moment of vulnerability to him, and yourself. and so, you take a shaky breath, and tell him why you panicked the way you did.

“my- my parents.. they..”

those words open a floodgate of bad memories and feelings. you tell him about everything. you tell him how your father and mother were emotionally absent. how they threw money at you when you needed them the most. how even at your lowest, your parents never cared for what they can do for you beyond the monetary.

you tell him about one moment in particular. where you were in first grade, you remember clearly. it was a day where you had to put together a career project based on one of your parents and have them sit and watch you present. and you remember being there’s, so little, so young, so expectant. watching everyone go one by one while you begged your teacher to wait for your parents to come because they promised! and you sat, and you watched the classroom door, and you waited until it was your turn. even as you presented, shaky voice and mispronounced words, you still held onto hope that they would come see you present even the last word to leave from your mouth.

but nothing. you sat back down and went through the rest of the day feeling sad and upset, but moreover lonely. you wish you had your parents.

“i remember asking them why they never came,” you sniffle, and miguel hugs you tight in his strong embrace. “straight up told me that it wasn’t worth their time.” the wounds of the old memory still feel fresh as you reminisce on them, years later.

“i will always be there when you need me. you’re forever and always worth my time,” miguel says, kissing your head. you’re silent, but you soak in his words. you know how you feel about him. i love you so fucking much that i hate you.

“m’supposed to meet them for dinner,” you breathe out, sitting up from miguel’s embrace. still, you reach to hold his hand tightly.

“you’ll be okay, baby. i’ll pick you up, and drop you off. anything happens, you call me and i’m there, yeah?” miguel whispers, running his hand up and down your thigh affectionately.

“yeah.”

when miguel drops you off, you take a moment to look in the fancy restaurant they’re both sat in. you look back at miguel and he reassures you once more, that “i will always be here when you need me.”

you lean in across the dash, pulling him into a deep kiss. “thank you.”

you finally get out of the car, but miguel watches you the whole way through, waiting until you walk in. your heart starts pounding but you remember when he said. i will always be here when you need me. i will always be here when you need me. i will always be here when you need me.

a reassuring breath calms you only slightly, but you walk in. your eyes flit to and fro in the dinning room, but when you hear boisterous laughter and haughty conversation in a booth ahead of you, you know they are your parents. you walk over to the table, not faulting when the mood fizzles, and a stale expression crosses both your mother and fathers faces.

“mother. father.” you sit across from them, your heart beating out of its chest. and you’re ready to take on your parents, knowing you have someone, miguel, who will always be there when you need him.

[kyeomkuppie]

Friends.

Pairing: Lee Chan x gn!reader

Genre: angst

Synopsis: You get stood up by your boyfriend for the nth time, which leads Chan to get frustrated and finally confess (in the rain).

Chan wasn't exactly in his right kind when he ran out of the practice room, without an umbrella when it was raining just because you called, only saying one thing

"Chan, come pick me up."

It was the nth time your boyfriend promised you a date, only to "forget" and leave you hanging. He wasn't exactly the best boyfriend either, and that's what chan has been trying to tell you for the past year and a half.

He never treated you like how you deserved (in Chan's opinion) and always seemed to prioritize anything but you. And today was one of those days where you were left crying on the street because, yet again, you were left alone.

Rain was seeping through your clothes and the fact that you were wearing white wasn't exactly pleasant either. You had your arms to your chest and your head down. You were also in a daze, you wanted to get to the nearest store to buy an umbrella, but you also wanted to fall down and cry.

A few weeks back you found out that your boyfriend started dating you for a dare. But it didn't make sense be the asked you on a date and maybe he wanted to fix things. Explain maybe? Yeah, what a fool.

And now back to the present on the day of said date, you tried calling your boyfriend multiple times but you were only directed to voicemail. He finally picked up 15 minutes after, only to yell at you and tell you to stop being too clingy and to top it all off, he broke up with you, on the phone, with no explanation.

Yeah, not the best choice of a boyfriend.

Your knees were clanking together as you were waiting for Chan, your best friend who has basically been the light of your life. When you felt like the whole world turned their backs on you, he didn't. He always stood by your side, even if he could barely bear the title of "friends".

"[name]!" Your head shit up as you heard a familiar voice, he was running to you, all wet and soaked but with only you on his mind. He didn't mind the possible cold he'd catch the next morning, or how sore his body would be from all the running. All that mattered was you.

He had an angered expression you'd never seen on him before. It was scary, and yet, when he was right in front of you it felt like everything was starting to make sense again.

"Didn't I tell you to stop hanging around that bastard! He has done nothing but make you cry." He was breathing heavily and you didn't have the heart to talk back to him, because he was right.

"And why are you standing there so pathetically, when you should go and punch him in the nose this instant." He quickly took off his jacket to cover you, despite how mad he was, he was never truly too mas to care for you.

"You'll get cold..." you mumbled as he was giving you his jacket.

"God...what will I ever do with you," he threw his head back in frustration "why are you concerned about me right now, it's you who's suffering, it's you who has been wronged. Worry about yourself, please." He pleaded you.

It was the first time he sounded so desperate, why?

"Chan, I understand you're worried but you shouldn't care so much, it's all because—"

"It's all because of your poor choice-making!" He yelled "I've told you dozens of times to break up with him and find someone who'd treat you better, but you never listen!"

"Exactly," you said quietly "it's my fault, why would you care?"

"God, you're too frustrating..." He grabbed you by you shoulders and looked you in the eyes. "I can treat you better, [name]. I will, I promise I will, but please, for your well-being, break up with him!" He was now full-on yelling. This seemed to have woken up something within you. All the pent up frustration was now making it's way on the surface.

"What are you talking about Chan, treat me better? Chan we're friends and I get that you're worried but I don't understand." You yelled back.

"I don't care about what's right anymore, I care about you [name]! You shouldn't do this to yourself. Not when there are tons of people who're better than whatever piece of trash you picked up to date." He exhaled sharply "I love you so fucking much, and it's driving me insane to see you like this."

You wanted to tell him about your break up that happened minutes ago before before you found yourself grabbing his face and smashing your lips onto his.

You were both cold, shivering, but the sensation of both your lips together spread warmth all through your body.

His hand snuck to your waist as he pulled you closer to try to deepen the kiss. It was desperate and emotional, like he was waiting for this moment for years (he has).

You decided to break the kis to whisper "I'm sorry...I got carried away." But he only pulled you back, but this time more aggressive.

You were now both breathing heavily looking into each other's eyes.

"You know...he broke up with me 10 minutes ago. Before you gave me that lecture." You said, embarrassed.

"Now, I take it that you're all mine." He said shyly.

"All yours."

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[waddlewaddlewaddlewaddle]

ᵤₙfₒᵣₜᵤₙₐₜₑₗy ₛₘᵢₜₜₑₙ ₍ₘₐfᵢₐ bₒₛₛ! Gₒⱼₒ ₓ ᵣₑₐdₑᵣ₎

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Summary: Life leads you to treacherous roads after deciding to enter the dangerous life you knew well not to follow.Having gojo by your side inviting you deeper and deeper into all that’s wrong in the world, inciting you to be selfish and carefree wasn’t supposed to be to your liking, so why do you shiver with adrenaline every time he decides to be the devil on your shoulder?

Contents: Mafia boss gojo x secretary reader.(civilian au ig)

-Secret crush!!

-Yandere Gojo.

Gojo being an egocentric bitch! Wealthy gojo! X no nonsense reader.

Tags<33333:

Warnings: Simp Gojo ig, trigger warning if you’re not interested in anything mafia related. The narration of this story is inspired by Latin and Asian mafia.

*　　 　　✦　　　. *　　 　　✦　　　. *　　 　　✦

The car was slightly quiet, besides Gojo’s occasional replies to his phone call. The chauffeur seemed to have his mouth taped shut, only focusing on taking you to the warehouse where your boss's jets are stored.

The 3 a.m. breeze passing through the window and kissing your face is starting to make your cheeks cold to the touch. The night’s temperature makes you kind of regret your outfit choice, but what could you say? Leaving the drugs and mafia behind, it was your first time visiting China! You were so excited for every new experience there was to offer. You may be there on a “business trip,” but considering all your expenses are paid, you might as well make it memorable. That led you to go all out when choosing the first outfit you’d wear when flying private. Your chest was adorned by a burgundy sleeveless turtleneck top, a black miniskirt that hugged your waist, and some below-the-knee leather-heeled boots that combined with your top.

You quickly shook the regret away. Your priority is to progress on this week's worth of work, taking advantage of the current free time you have. Your soft fingertips quickly tapped the warm computer resting on your thighs. Unbeknownst to yourself, the tall figure with fluffy white hair scratched his undercut with one hand while the other lazily held the phone close to his ear. He couldn’t help but dare to take a peek at your smooth legs. He tried to contain himself, which he really did, but his eyes couldn’t help but wander up your thighs. The phone call is now long forgotten, only working as a background nose for his shameful fantasy, where he lies his head on your cushiony, soft thighs while your long nails trace figures along his scalp.

-“Whatcha looking at doesn’t like my outfit or what?”-You question catching him off guard after finally noticing his burning stare.

Gojo’s eyes widened in surprise, but his ego wasn’t going to let him keep quiet and possibly seem embarrassed in front of you or anyone. So he quickly fixed his posture and struck back.

-“Are those the boots I gave you for Christmas? It's the first time I’ve seen you wear them. They don’t look completely hideous on you.”

Gojo thanked whatever god still had mercy on him for giving him the perfect excuse to look your way.

-“It is the first time I’m wearing them!!! How did you notice?” - You giggled at him shamelessly, flashing him your pearly whites. How could you do this to him? Now he wanted to buy every pair of boots in the world just to see your smile as you showed them off to him and blushed at him.-“ I wish I was as easily observant as you. You’re once again correct. I just wanted to save them for a nice event.”

-“You've never been on a plane before?"

-“Not a private one.”

Poor you.

So your first time is going to be with me, huh? How sweet.” Gojo joked proudly, wearing a smug smile.

You threw some sticky notes at his head that��you had in your purse, to which he just responded with a low and slow cackle.

The chauffeur looked back in surprise, wondering how you still had all your extremities together after disrespecting the boss like that.

You now rest your chin on the window as you approach the warehouse. After passing various checkpoints with armed men in the middle of nowhere, you finally arrive at his warehouse.

Geto ordered around the employees as they packed something onto the jet. You couldn’t continue snooping since one of your guards opened the door to signal you to leave the car.

As you get off, you feel the rough concrete make friction with your boots. As you start to explore the view, you see like five warehouses surrounding the pathway. As your assistants grab the luggage in the trunk, you look around for familiar faces.

You promptly see your boss appear from the side of the train and shortly walk over to you. 

-“Ladies first.” -He points with his head to the open silver jet door.

You glance back at him in a distrusting manner and soon head into the aircraft. The cabin smelled sterile, the hallways were wide and decorated with cashmere white seats adorned by cedar walls with floating tables and big round windows to your side was a twin bed with feathery pillows and cushiony covers.

-“Can i sleep here? If I fall asleep right now, I might avoid jet lag.” - You ask this question while settling down on the bouncy bed, you avoided giving any compliments to your boss, you didn’t want to seem easily surprised by his extravagant wealth.

-“Tired already? I thought you wanted to spend the night with me.”-He banters as usual.

-“As if you could offer me a good night.”- You joke back, and he simply raises an eyebrow.-“I’m feeling a little groggy, but if you need me up, I’ll be charging you a nighttime fee in USD of course, since we are traveling internationally.”

Gojo opens his mouth to respond but is shortly interrupted by his godmother.

-“Gas tanks are full; flights starting in 5.”-Comments the raven head while serving himself and Gojo a cup of whiskey from the bar.

-“Want some?” -He asks, looking toward your direction.

-“It’s 3 a.m.; what type of question is that? Pass the bottle, bro.”-You respond while tying your hair for a fun night.

 

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

 

Your knocked-out body is seen slugging on the before mentioned bed, neck in a creepy pose and your cheeks painted red. Your skirt is slightly riding up on your thighs,barely noticeable to the untrained eye,but still too much for Gojo's liking.

Gojo and Geto are sitting down in the seats in front of you, enjoying the spectacle of your drunken self. They’re still completely sober from their third glass of whisky.

Gojo takes his phone out and is about to take a picture until Geto grabs his hand.

-“Better not; what if she gets mad and fucks up our taxes.”- His best friend intervenes.

Gojo quietly nods and reincorporates himself into his seat, spreading his legs as far as possible , sliding his Ferragamo shoes across the carpet to touch your boots with the tip of his footwear.

After strutting back into the cabin from speaking with the pilots in the cockpit,Geto  let’s gojo know that they’re landing in Sanduzhen in about an hour, just to later disappear into one of the rooms on the jet. Meanwhile, Gojo is still staring at your freshly run-over deer pose.

You look so uncomfortable.

You may even wake up with neck pain.

He wasn’t very content with the thought of you waking up hungover and with neck pain.

He sat up and looked around to see if anyone was looking at him, then strategically hooked his arm under your knees while grasping your arms with the other hand. Once he had you in a bridal position, he crouched down a bit and grabbed your leather purse to later stand back up again. He was so tempted to just stand there and hold you in his arms like a big baby and feel your hot breath tickle his neck, but he recognized you both have a busy day ahead of you, so he simply had to ignore your sweet cotton candy perfume and lay you to rest. He swiftly headed to the back of the cabin, where his bedroom is located, to next effortlessly open the door and shut it behind himself.

He laid your limp body cozily on the comforter, and he then proceeded to carefully sit on the bed while side-eyeing you to see if you would flutter your eyes open and catch him red-handed. Once he confirmed you were out like a light, he gently unzipped your boots and put them aside to then cover you with the thickest, softest blanket he could find.

He just as carefully stood up and was just about to walk off and do whatever shady shit he usually does when he realized he deserved a treat for being such a gentleman, right?

He crouched down to your face level and took his big, cold, and scarily pale hand and tamed the wild hairs that cover your face. His pointer finger then started to trace all your factions. He could feel his cheeks burn as your soft skin met with his finger tips. As if he weren’t already testing the limits of his self-control, his gaze faltered at the sight of your pink, rosy lips, slightly agape. He was better than this; he knew better than to fantasize about locking lips with his secretary. But he needed to get something out of it, something that was worth the agony he experienced at the thought that he couldn’t just lay next to you and cuddle away the cold, something worth his jagged breaths as he tried to ignore your intoxicating scent or worth making him hate himself as he acted like a teenage boy around you, like he wasn’t beheading some messengers from a rival gang then sending some of their parts to their boss and their families.

So he said, Fuck it, and submerged his head between your neck and hair as he inhaled your essence. After getting drunk on your scent, he backed off and planted a chaste kiss on your bare shoulder. He wishes to plant many more, but one is all he can afford for the moment.

Then he decided to finally leave before doing anything crazy, and to his luck he managed to withdraw from his room a few minutes before Geto left his own.

-“Satoru.”

-“Yeah?” The white-haired man replied, concealing his previous high adrenaline rush.

-“Do you think she’ll find out?”

After his best friend muttered that sentence, every drop of joy drained from his system.

-"What’s done is done.”

The godmothers face winced before an announcement was heard on the cabin speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s your pilot speaking; we have arrived in Shanghai, mainland China.”

*　　 　　✦　　　. *　　 　　✦　　　. *　　 　　✦

A/n: Hello my beautiful angels , I hope you enjoyed this chapter. What do you guys think gojo is hiding from the reader? Did you like the secret one sided romance going on? I’d like to remember y’all that suggestions and request are open. Once again comments are appreciated, until next time, kisses.💋

Poll for funsies

[rainydayathogwarts]

Ron weasley - Opposite teams

Summary: You play a match against your boyfriend, who's a very sore loser. wc: 2k

Seeing him on the pitch shouldn't have had such an effect on you, especially considering you were playing for the opposite team. The gear looked good on him, and confidence was beaming off his skin, but you were one of the best chasers at Hogwarts, priding yourself on how rarely you missed a shot. "Pull yourself together Y/N!" Flint yelled at your frozen form, still in shock of what had happened. It was all because Ron had flashed you that stupidly gorgeous smile when you were about to score that you hesitated - hesitated enough for him to read your body language and predict your next move, easily catching the quaffle when you threw it. Even your boyfriend had been surprised, well aware of how good you played from years of watching you on the field.

"Wow! It seems as though L/N is too charmed by her boyfriend to get a good shot, this is a new one folks!" Begins Lee, rousing up those in the bleachers. "And it looks like Slytherin Captain Flint is calling for a time out! Good choice I'd say!" It was already embarrassing enough that the entire school knew the time out was being called because you were too hot and bothered by your boyfriend, but your face flushed a dark red the second the Slytherin team turned to look at you in disappointment. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I don't know what got into me, he's just so- I can't be the primary shooter I'm sorry!" The entire team looked back at you as you rambled and you felt your face get impossibly warmer realising you were gushing about your boyfriend to six teenage boys. "I'm sorry." You muttered.

"Y/N's right," Starts Flint again, "She shouldn't be the primary shooter for this game..." His voice trails off and your gaze drifting to where to Gryffindor team stands. You can see them laughing for a moment, and Harry pats Ron on the back - the reason you missed literally couldn't have been more obvious and they were having a field day about it. "Got it Y/N?" Your head snaps back to Flint, looking at you with raised eyebrows. Your face goes blank, your mouth opening as though to say 'what' but nothing comes out. "You'll switch places with Nott as secondary." Malfoy says quietly to you, and you perk up "Yes, got it!" Flint doesn't look convinced, but calls time out to be over anyway, and everyone gets back on their brooms.

"Stay focused or I'll knock your boyfriend off his broom!" The remark is clearly aimed at you, but is loud enough for both teams to hear and you glance at Ron, whose face has blanched at the comment. You turn away from him, trying not to smile, and the whistle blows. Nott scores time after time after time, and you can see your boyfriend's confidence decreasing while his anger increases. Nott passes you, high-fiving you on the way back to his post. "Good strategy change by the Slytherin team, it seems that they're back - OHH AND MALFOY CATCHES THE SNITCH, GAME OVER EVERYONE!" You're relieved to be off your broom when the game end and you sigh deeply, rolling your head in a circle to try and stretch a kink in your neck out.

You finally join your team, earning pats on the back by them, and teasing comments "Well he's not gonna be happy about that one." and "Good luck getting laid tonight." The comments follow you all the way back to your dorm since Pansy walks with you back to the common room. "I don't even know how that happened though! You never miss! Like you can't be so attracted to someone that, well that happens. He's going to be in such a prissy mood, good luck with that."

The party in the common room is in full blow when you finish showering and getting dressed. You're clad in a tight black mini-skirt with a red crop top, something your boyfriend will hopefully appreciate. "I see what you're doing." You're interrupted by Draco, who eyes your outfit once before handing you a drink. "I think you underestimate just how capable I am of getting my boyfriend in bed, Malfoy." He grins, shaking his head "Well if you have the effect on him that he had on you, I doubt it'll take much." You scoff in amusement, the jokes will never end. "Hey if Marcus asks where I am, don't tell him I'm sleeping with the enemy." But Flint is already beside you, muttering "Cheers" under his breath, so you scurry away quietly, starting your trek to the Gryffindor common room.

The Gryffindors' party is completely different. The music in the background is quiet, and the Gryffindor Quidditch team sits together, each player with a drink in hand while they talk. Others seem to be having more fun than them. When Ron spots you walking towards him, he rolls his eyes, clearly upset. His teammates, on the other hand, greet you kindly, some even joking about the slight incident on the field. You stand in front of Ron, putting a knee on the couch between his legs to support yourself when you put your hands on his shoulder, leaning into his body.

Despite Ron's free hand coming to the back of your thigh, he still mutters "I'm not in the mood." though he leans into your touch when one of your hands comes up to play with his hair. You tilt your head down so your lips barely graze his ear "You're so hot when you're angry." Ron stiffens, looking up at you, but your head is already dipping lower so you can press kisses on his neck. He shivers at the cool touch of your slightly wet hair on his collarbone, and his eyes flutter close for a moment. When he opens them back up, Harry is grinning at him and wiggling his eyebrows. Someone wolf whistles, but he doesn't know if it's directed to you. He feels your teeth graze the spot you've been sucking on right below his ear and he sighs, trying to disguise his pleasure as annoyance, pushing your hip away from him.

Yes, he wants you, but he has to at least pretend that he doesn't for a while longer because he's still angry, and wants you to feel as though you need to try a little to win him over. You've played his game before, and you know what follows. When Ron nudges at your hips one more time, you separate from him, tilting his chin up so he can look at you. He's putty in your hands, but you like to give him the illusion of being in control, so when you kiss him, it's a soft, almost desperate kiss. "Ronnie," you plead "Please." And that soft whisper is enough to make him begin to stand up. You back away, pushing your bottom lip forward and making doe eyes at your boyfriend to stop yourself from grinning in accomplishment.

His shoulder brushes past you and he begins walking up to his dorm, but when you catch up with him, snaking your hand in his, he only holds your hand tighter, so you know you've won. Ron's door slams shut behind you, and immediately, hands are on you, pushing you against the door and groping your ass while he kisses you aggressively. The kiss is filled with angry passion, and Ron's tongue is fighting against yours for dominance. Both your arms are thrown over Ron's shoulder in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer to you so your tits are pushed up into his chest. The hands on your ass move to your front, sliding up your crop top and cupping your tits, while Ron pulls away from the kiss to attack your neck.

Moans are immediately escaping your mouth in soft breaths, your back arching into Ron's hands, pulling and massaging at your breasts, teasing your nipples. His teeth bite at your neck, and one leg comes to shove itself right between your thighs and you jerk up, an electric shock being sent right through you. At your loud gasp, Ron looks down to where his leg connected with your cunt, and his hand immediately pushes your skirt up to find that you're not wearing panties. "What a little slut. No underwear under a mini-skirt? You're practically begging." He grunts, and you whine, grinding your pussy against his thigh. "Just for you, Ronnie."

The comment seems to make him happy, at least happier than he was before since he starts working on taking your top off. "Get this skirt off now." He mutters, his attention back on your tits the second they're exposed. Your bra drops to the floor at the same time your skirt does. Ron pulls away from where he was leaving hickeys on your tits, and takes a moment to oggle at your naked body. You falter under his stare, a hand coming up to grab the material of his t-shirt. "Ron?" At the sound of his name, he looks back up, taking an impossible step closer to you and pressing his lips to yours in a slow kiss. "You're so fucking amazing." He mutters between kisses, all of his previous anger seemingly gone "Don't deserve this. Don't deserve you." Before you can react to his words, his hands are wrapping around your waist and carrying you to his bed, where he immediately shuts the curtains of his four-poster.

He wastes no time pressing his clothed cock against your naked, which has you moaning his name, bucking your hips up for more friction. "Take it off, take it off." You beg. He complies, chuckling at the sight of your hips bucking up, but takes his time stroking his cock once it's finally freed. His demeanour completely flips the second he pushes into you; his hips snapping at a faster pace than you can keep track of, his hands grabbing both your legs to pull over his shoulders. The angle is perfect and with the way his cock is hitting the right spot with every stroke, you're sure you won't last ten minutes.

You're tightly gripping the bed sheets and you're almost positive that your eyes are going to get stuck at the back of your head because of how hard they're rolling back. "Mmph, bloody hell you feel so nice." The compliment only spurred the pleasure inside you and you moaned louder, bucking your hips up for something more - anything more. Ron's hand comes down to your clit in a harsh slap, and quickly starts putting pressure on it, watching as you squirmed underneath him at the extra friction. His pace sped up and your legs started to shake on his shoulders, a sign that you were clearly close. Ron's hand begins rubbing quick circles on your clit and hips start erratically jerking into you as he releases his load into you, triggering your very own orgasm.

Ron rides out both your orgasms, stilling his movements when you put a hand on his chest. He pants, his chest heaving with every breath he takes as he takes your legs off his shoulders. "Christ, that was too much exercise for one day." He mutters, looking down at you when you open your arms wide for him. He falls into your awaiting arms and mumbles "Can't sleep. Need to clean you up." You moan, shaking your head at him. "Just five minutes."

[forthelostones]

inna good way ─── ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🍸 fem!reader x college!ellie 🍸⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡

" 'cus you make me wanna cry in a good way"

synopsis: it was the day before graduation and your ex-best friend threw a party. you visit and see if there's something left.

warnings. 18+ (mdni); soft ellie, fluff(?), suggestive language, jealousy, abby ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of insecurities, & grinding. sfw!!!

an: hi everyone, thanks for all the love on my other works! that means a lot to me, make sure if you like my writing to make suggestions! (p.s. i'm drinking wine & missing uni sooo)

(no y/n)

♪ playlist: palace/curse, i. the party, in a good way, 2 AM . ♪

#normalgirlsyndrome

wc: 3.1k

you were staring at your phone at the edge of your mattress in your college apartment. boxes had been packed, the bed once in a frame on the floor, and your gown hung over your closet door. you knew ellie was throwing a party tonight at her house and you couldn’t refuse the opportunity to go. although you didn’t have a choice because your roommates insisted you had one last night together. so, before you taped up your boxes, you pulled out your traditional going outfit, ready to hit it one last time. you were already tipsy from the four glasses of white wine you inhaled while doing your makeup. you tapped through ellie’s story ferociously over and over. she had been posting videos of her smoking a joint and playing beer pong, waiting for people to show.  you couldn't help but smile at her sweet face.

you felt a twist in your stomach as you thought about seeing her again. of course you had seen her around campus and waved, but things had gotten more awkward than you’d both admit. the relationship turned dry but you remember the touches of her hands on those random “dates” that she refused to acknowledge. they were so sweet and soft, you yearned for more, especially the nights when you were alone touching yourself in your bed wishing it were her. she refused that she had any feelings for you after a seldom walk near the lake where the stillness of the water was louder than her lack of words. “I just thought we’d be better as best friends lovey,” she told you. her mouth said one thing but her eyes said another, you were sure she was lying. you saw her around with dina, her on-and-off girlfriend, wondering what she had that you didn’t. you picked yourself apart one random date ago while you cried and stared at her photos on instagram. you found yourself reopening those wounds as you began to head for the door. 

the smell of sweating bodies and weed cause your lungs to tighten, forcing a cough out of your throat. your heart became tight at the thought of seeing her, you couldn’t quite place why. so many memories flood your head — remembering the sound of her guitar trilling through the night on her back porch, where she sang your favorite songs to you. her fingers meticulously tracing the guitar's neck, making it perfect for you. you fell into the corner you typically shove yourself into, as your friends handed you a red cup with a clear liquid that smelled like tequila. 

you took it straight, not caring about the consequences. your throat burned with sweet satisfaction, once the liquor dropped into your belly, you felt sweat bulb to your top lip. they handed you another, this time with a lime, and you noticed abby, the captain of the rugby team eyeing you. this wouldn’t have been the first time you caught her staring. you flutter your heavy lashes in her direction as you bite your lower lip ever so slightly. abby was attractive, she was fit beyond belief and you could imagine the type of positions she could put you in with no effort. she started making a stride towards you in her all black ensemble. 

a text hits your home-screen, it’s ellie.

come smoke. 

you ignore the message as abby comes beaming with a smile. 

“hey pretty.” she muttered. 

i know you’re here come onnnn. 

ellie knew you only smoked with her, she wouldn’t ask you otherwise. so, you grab abby by the hand and grin right back at her. “you wanna come smoke with me?” you ask, not really giving her a choice. 

was your intent to make ellie jealous… no… but yes, because you were only just friends. abby follows your lead naturally towards the back patio glimmering brightly ahead. you both slip past the kitchen, through the sliding doors where ellie is chatting with her roomates, and you wave at her. she’s not blitzed yet, so she has a smug look on her face when she sees abby. her twisted face is illuminated by the fairy lights gleaming softly around the perimeter of the porch. 

“hey els," abby says. 

“hi you.” you said, reaching directly for the blunt in her hand. 

her eyes scan your body, she loved when you wore that outfit, as you bent down she snuck a look at your breast, clearly spilling out of your top. abby sits in the wooden lawn chair just parallel of ellie and you perch yourself in her lap, her hands automatically coming around your waist. they were bigger than they seemed and you felt a heat patch warm your core. ellie could never hide her facial expressions, she attempted to not turn to look, instead, she turned her chair. 

beer?” she asks abby. 

“yes please. thanks.” abby replies. 

“make me something.” you demand. 

ellie sets her jaw and moves slowly into the kitchen past a herd of people. you bring the blunt to your lips, sucking in, holding, then exhaling away from abby’s face. she was watching you intently, noticing how your lips puckered. you turn to her and place it between her lips, she coughed violently as the smog entered her lungs.

“aw. sorry, I didn't—“   

“nope it's,” she said with her thick throat. “never got to smoke because of rugby.” 

you just hit her with an understanding face as you shift on her lap. her left hand moves to rest on your inner thigh and her other just at the curve of your ass as you perch closer into her. you face the joint and grab her cheeks, blowing smoke into her mouth, she inhales softly, both of your lips practically touching. you’d never give her the satisfaction as you noticed her hips pressing your backside.

ellie stood behind you both, holding a can of beer and a cocktail glass filled with your drink. you handed off the joint and took both in your hands. ellie noticed how close abby’s hands were to your crotch and became red with jealousy. ellie looked you in your eyes as she pushed out smoke from between her lips. as you sipped your Ellie concoction, abby’s hands trailed up your back under your top, she pulled you in closer to her chest as she whispered in your ear. “you’re so fucking hot.” 

you giggle at her praises but feel a knot form in your stomach as you keep unwavering eye contact with ellie’s as Abby continues to spout praises. you press down harder in her lap where she thrusted upwards into your ass. 

“so, you guys ready to graduate?” ellie interrupted, seeing how flustered you got. 

you sipped to avoid speaking as abby turned her head to answer ellie.

“yes. i’m thinking about backpacking around Asia for a bit.” 

“really? i’ve always wanted to do —“ 

“since when?” ellie cuts you off in a fiery spit. 

abby coughs and sips her beer in a gulp, finishing it all. 

“need another?” you ask. 

abby nods kindly and gently pats your ass as you get up. ellie passes the blunt to abby and follows you inside to go to the drink fridge in the basement. you know she’s following you, you can practically feel her breath on your neck as you zig-zag toward the steps. you reach the bottom of the basement stairs and see ellie’s silhouette at the top. you try and reach for the string near the lightbulb but can’t find it, your heart beats loudly in your ears as ellie’s converse tap towards you. she stands right in front of you, without saying a word, you can smell her shampoo mixed with weed, and she reaches up to turn the light on. you look at her light pink eyes, and furrowed brows, and notice her heaving. 

for a moment you both just stand in thick silence. 

“i have to get abby a beer.” you felt your feet become heavy and your mind drifted. 

before you could even open the refrigerator door an inch, she slams it shut. her eyebrows raise in curiosity. 

“speak.” you demand. 

taken aback, she gasps at your boldness. “well—I— what the fuck?” 

you shove past her and take another beer in your hands ignoring her dropped jaw. 

“you come to my party, rubbing up on that bitch, sitting in her lap… wha-when has that ever been like you?” 

“are you the only one allowed to have fun?” 

she froze, as abby called out.

“hey, you okay?” 

her voice was so protective, you felt her gaze down at the top of the stairs, making sure ellie didn’t do anything stupid. 

“i’m fine, ellie was helping me with something. i’ll be up.” 

you tried to convince abby, but she still stood watching, which made ellie twitch with anger. 

“i’m going to go to the bathroom pretty.” abby finally says leaving. 

“okay!” you yell out. 

“if you go, please don’t…” she babbled. 

you liked seeing her so weak for you, but it wasn’t enough. you stood your ground and dared to move past her, but she stopped you by grabbing your wrist. “ellie get off of me.” 

you felt the wine and weed settle in, you were sweating, panting, and fingertips buzzing. her touch felt so good, you couldn’t deny that. 

“pretty.” she mocked. 

At least someone sees it, you thought. 

                                                                                  — 

you officially lost Abby, she must’ve left or found someone else to caress. you didn’t mind, deep down you knew that’s not who you really wanted anyway. as you sipped a lone beer and wandered around the house your high was kicking in and the music entered your ears in a blur. no words were clear, just the bass booming on the hardwood creating a vibration under you. you reach the end of the hallway, where ellie’s room door stood. it seemed taller than usual, more daunting, stretching several feet upwards. you actually had never been in her room before; you saw it on her stories, or on facetime, but never in person. as you reached for the cold, gold knob you pause. 

you hear ellie’s laugh boom from behind you, so you follow it like sonar. you see her taking shots with her bandmates and you watch as her t-shirt lifts up ever so slightly to expose her naval. you wanted to know what it tasted like. her feet wobbled underneath her, and she was tipsy. you blink your eyes several times as you find a wall to lean on, and your hand travels back down the hall to open the big, scary door. you creep inside, it’s dark, but in the corner is a small desk lamp that illuminates a yellow hue onto the room. her bed was on the floor, room unpacked, shit was all on the floor, and her guitars were perched in the left corner of the room. to the right was her bathroom, you saw your reflection and had to focus to see your face. your eyes pink, lips wet, and body warm. you sipped more beer as you turned to her shower, you imagined ellie’s naked body, the way she rubbed the bar of soap around her neck, nipples, and in between. 

you went to sit on Ellie’s bed, you began to roll yourself in her messy, undone bedding. her smell was so thick, bruising your nostrils, filling you up. you remember how she treated you when dina was around and you became more pissed off. you swallowed the last drops of your drink and threw the bottle on the ground. warm tears began to bud and then you realized how your mascara would run down your cheeks. you pulled out your phone to check the damage. 

lets talk, im sorry. 

ellie’s message from two hours ago, you freeze, it’s been two hours? you bring your palms to your forehead and let out a soft sob. 

“i’ll be back, yea!” ellie hollers from the hallway. 

you straighten up immediately, she walks in hand in her hair, surprised to see you. 

“oh.” she says softly. 

you couldn’t help but sigh. you set your phone down on the ground and look up at her, she had a slight smile on her face seeing you like this, not knowing you were on the verge of tears just now. she closes the door behind her, bends down, and lifts your chin up. 

“you’re gone.” she giggles. 

you push her hand away and turn your face. 

“let me take care of you, come on. it’s the least I can do,” 

the softness in her voice shook you. 

“did you get my text lovey?” 

all you can muster is a nod as you begin to scoot towards the head of her bed.  

“why don’t you just, get comfortable, i’ll get you something to throw on.” 

she rummages loud through her boxes, which makes your head pound, and tosses you a clean, grey zip-up. she leaves the room quietly, flicking on the light in the bathroom and closing the door after she clicks off the table lamp. you remove your jeans and top, leaving you in your lace panties.

your head is pounding as you become more intoxicated by the scent of her earthy shampoo lingering on her pillow. you inhaled the familiar scent, imagining your hands running through her hair, pulling her closer to your neck. the door opens and you jolt as you remember you never put on the zip-up. 

“I’m sorry— I,” ellie gulps as she spills the glass of water she brought for you onto herself. you roughly zip yourself into the warmth that smelt like her laundry detergent. 

“i’m good.” you mutter. 

you both share a familiar laugh, and her gaze becomes shifty as she thinks about your body. she hands you a half-full glass of cold water with a nervous smile. 

“glass half full, right?” 

you sip and chuckle. 

stupid, fucking stupid Els, she thinks. 

she sits beside you at the opposite end of the bed, she ignores the fact that she can see your thighs unhindered by any fabric not obstructing her view. even though it was dark, she could still see you illuminated by the bathroom light. 

“good, urm,” she peered down at her now sheer shirt. “i will go and get ready for bed.” 

her nipples were suddenly erect from the cold water spreading onto her chest. You couldn’t help but notice them perk from under the thin, wife-pleaser material. she stood up to grab her night clothes and head for the bathroom, leaving you smothered in darkness. you couldn’t tell if your eyes were open or not, but the four walls that you imagined around you spun. 

you heard the water from the shower turn on and your fantasy brightened, thinking about ellie’s body. you became more drunk on the image of ellie touching herself in the shower because of you. knowing how intently she was watching you grind against abby, not only did it make her furious, it turned her on. she knew she made a mistake, picking dina over you all these years. you push your hips upwards, riding the mattress, inhaling ellie’s scent.

you found her name leave your lips softly, Ellie.

Ellie. 

you couldn’t tell the difference between your voice and your subconscious desire of moaning her name. you began to imagine her holding you.

Ellie. 

“lovey, you okay?” she said frightening you. 

you paused, realizing she opened the bathroom door, drying her hair on a towel. Her grey boxers clung to her body so sweetly. she wore a distressed band tee that sat just above her belly button. you had formed sweat around your hairline and your body perfectly contoured into the mattress. 

“i’m okay. yea, thanks.” 

she sighed as she bent down to sit at the edge of the bed. as she dried her hair she was thinking of the next move to make. you were bunched up under yourself, warm from embarrassment. her hand wrapped around your ankle gently, which shocked you, but your reaction time was too slow. she leaned over to kiss your leg, kisses feeling like a pure electric shock, you groaned at finally feeling her touch. 

“els.” you managed to say.

“what?” She said in between kisses, finally coming up the side of your thigh, with her left hand coasting up your backside. 

“no. i can’t.” 

your body pushes her hands away, startling her. she looked at you in pure shock, as if you were the one who was wrong. she crawled towards you with undeniable lust in her eyes. 

“why not?” she asked dumbfounded. 

“you rejected me all this time. you… dina…” you say attempting to jog her memory. 

“dina and i so what.” she moved an inch on all fours. 

“you chose her over me, so that’s that.” 

“baby,” she groaned. 

you melt at her voice, you couldn’t help it. 

" okay, i was scared. scared to disappoint you, I’m not… I’m not sure how to be in a relationship. dina was fun, easy, she didn’t care. I wanted you, I just- 'm so fucking dumb,” she rambled.  

you grimaced at her name, you had grown so spiteful of her that even the mention of her made you tense. ellie was now in your bubble, she laid her head on the pillow beside you, and sincerity filled her eyes. 

“you could’ve told me that. you know that I was your best friend ellie.” 

she flinches at her own name. “I know, I know.” she muttered as she tucked her hand behind your neck and leaned in to kiss you. her lips were pillowy and wet, better than anything you’ve ever felt. she swiped the bottom of your lip entering her tongue inside your mouth. you groan at the taste of her and her huffing as she pushes deeper into your mouth. your hands drift to her waist and you pull your leg up over her body, pulling her closer. 

your hands travel up her back into her scalp. she pulls away and pierces your pupils, she meant everything she said, you saw it. “i’m sorry lovey, i was just scared.” she added. 

you could only force out a hmm.

"please forgive me?" she says, pecking your neck slowly with staccato kisses.

her tongue swirls up the side of your neck and wraps around your lobe as she pleads, "please." desperately pushing up against you.

and for a moment you consider forgiveness.

[cherrycola27]

daylight

Series Warnings: Mature Content 18+. Language, drinking, and allusions to smut. Eventuallyfull smut. Military inaccuracies. Minors DNI. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

Masterlist Next Part

...........................................

Chapter 1: I'll Tell You the Truth but Never Goodbye

Loving Bradley Bradshaw was the easiest thing you had ever done in your life.

Leaving him was the hardest.

You hadn't planned for it to go this way, truly. You'd never, in all the years you'd known each other, especially in the three years the two of you had been a couple, thought you would have to leave him.

It wasn't by choice. No, you didn't want to do this. Because who in their right mind would want to break up with Bradley?

He was the perfect boyfriend. Kind, caring, attentive. The two of you were so happy together. All your days together felt happy and warm. Like basking in the glow of the California sunshine.

But fate, and your careers, never failed to roll the storm clouds in.

You still remember the look on his face when your uncle called you into his office to personally deliver the news to you.

"You can't be serious, Uncle Beau!" You almost shouted at him as you tried to hold the tears at bay as you threw the envelope with your new orders back at him.

"Birdie, I'm sorry. You know I wouldn't do this if there was any other way. I promised your mother. But the orders—the came from over my head. I'm sorry, sweetheart. Truly. But you need to get your affairs in order." You uncle sighed as he slumped down in his chair.

You couldn't be angry with him. It wasn't his fault. But the news still hurt coming from him.

You knew that you were a good pilot. But you never dreamed that you'd be good enough to be summoned for a top secret mission. One that would have you spending five years in Asia with no contact from the outside world.

That meant no phone calls to your dad or friends, not even Uncle Beau would know much. But the worst part was, you wouldn't be able to contact Bradley.

A sour feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. You knew what you had to do.

This was one of those missions that you didn't know if you'd ever come back from. It wouldn't be fair to ask Bradley to wait for you for what might be forever. You loved him too much to do that to him. To ask him to hang on. To keep him in the dark.

You drug your feet as you made your way to the parking lot. He was there, next to his Bronco, leaning against your door.

He had his caravans on and a smile so bright it rivaled the sun.

He beamed when he spoke your name. You tried to pretend that everything was okay. You hoped he couldn't see through the charade you were putting on.

Later, when the two of you got home, he asked if you wanted to go out to the Hard Deck that night with everyone. You shook your head before turning to him with a desperate look in your eye.

"Bradley. What if we just stayed in tonight?"

He didn't hesitate to agree with you, knowing exactly what you meant when you said that. He scooped you up in his arms, holding you tightly—unable to shake the feeling that something was off.

You and Bradley had known each other for years. You'd officially been a couple for just over three of them and had lived together for most of that time.

He seemed to know you better than he knew himself. So when you kissed him like you were never going to see him again, the same kind of kisses you gave each other before a deployment, he knew exactly what was going on.

Bradley didn't hold back because of it, though. If this was going to be the last time you were in his bed—in your shared bed—in his arms—he was going to make it count.

He laid you down reverently against the sheets. Taking his time to work you up, gently undressing you like you were a priceless piece of art.

Bradley took you apart little by little, kissing every inch of your skin before tracing over it with his fingertips. He wanted to memorize the way you felt beneath his calloused hands. He wanted to memorize the intoxicating scent that was uniquely you. Salt air like the sea breeze, freshly laundered sheets, and warm vanilla. He wanted to remember how you tasted when you came apart on his mustache or when you pushed your tongue into his mouth.

But most of all, Bradley wanted to remember how you looked at the height of pleasure as the waves of euphoria only he could give you washed over your body.

He wanted to remember how you sounded crying out his name, or how you practically glowed when he pushed you over the edge.

So, every push of his fingers into your hair, every sweep of his tongue over your skin, every thrust of his hips, every pull, tug, and caress was calculated to commit not only you to his memory, but him to yours.

If this was the end, he wanted you to remember how his strong body felt pressed against yours. How he sounded crying out your name. How he begged you to cum for him over and over. Taking until he had nothing left to give.

With every moment he spent with you in the golden glow of your bedroom lamp, Bradley tried to be the best for you one last time.

When the two of you were finished, both sweaty and sated, you didn't cuddle into his side. You turned away from him, unable to face him. He pulled you flush against him, hands absent mindedly drawing patterns on your skin. Your voice failed you as you spoke.

"Bra—Bradley I—"

"I know. I know, and it's okay." He replied softly before you could even finish.

"How?" You stutter out, still facing the wall.

"Birdie, I've known you and loved you for years. I know you probably better than I know myself. You kissed me like it was the last time. You've been on edge all evening. You wanted to stay in. I knew the moment I laid you down that this was going to be breakup sex." Bradley tells you.

"I'm sorry, Bradley. I didn't want it to be like this. I can't even tell you why. This isn't my choice." You start to cry before getting up.

He pulls you back down to him. "Stop, Birdie. If this is the end for us, at least let me hold you one more time." Bradley breathes out.

You don't argue with him. Instead, you curl into his warm embrace. You press yourself so close to him, hoping that you could just melt into him. He tucks you under his chin and kisses your hairline.

"For what it's worth." He beings after a long while. "If I had the chance to go back and do it all over again, I would. Even though I know we break up in the end." Bradley assures you.

"Me too." You whisper before letting his heartbeat lull you to sleep one last time.

It's early when you wake up the next morning, still wrapped in Bradley's strong arms. The sun hasn't even crossed the horizon. Moonlight still fills your bedroom.

You carefully extract yourself from Bradley before grabbing your duffle and packing a few essential things and some things you don't need, but want to keep with you.

Daylight is just breaking through curtains as you look back at Bradley one last time. The sunrise casts a perfect golden halo around him.

You press one final chast kiss to his lips before slipping out the door without telling him goodbye. You couldn't. That meant that this was permanent, and you couldn't accept that. As you pulled out of your driveway, you let the tears you'd been holding fall.

When you go to board the carrier, your uncle is waiting for you.

"Take care of him for me Uncle Beau." You whisper to him as you hug him one last time before climbing on and leaving behind the life you once had.

—————————Five Years Later—————————

You took a deep breath as your shoe made contact with the ground. It had been ages since you smelled the salt air of the west coast or felt the California sunshine on your face.

Fightertown was different since you'd last been there, but then again, so were you. I'm more ways than one.

But that didn't matter now. You were back and home to stay. You'd settled into your uncle's pool house for now until you could afford your own place, even though he and your aunt told you that you could stay as long as you liked. You assured them that it would be a few months, tops.

After unpacking, you inquired about your old squadron and were pleased to find that they were a permanent fixture at Top Gun, where you would be starting on Monday.

After learning that, you asked Uncle Beau if the Hard Deck was still the place to go. He told you it was, and you were glad that some things never changed.

So, you put on a nice outfit and grabbed the colorfully decorated wooden box that had been halfway across the world with you and loaded up into the passenger seat of your car.

You sat down in the driver's seat and traced the neatly painted letters of Bradley's name that ran across the top of it before opening the lid and thumbing over all the letters you wrote to him but never got to send. You saved every one of them.

A smile crossed your face as you pulled onto the highway to go to the Hard Deck.

You were ready to see him again, to love him again. And you hoped that by giving him these letters, he would realize that you never forgot about him.

Tagging those who might be interested: @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @desert-fern @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hecate-steps-on-me @na-ta-sh-aa @katieshook02 @beyondthesefourwalls @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @diorrfairy @eli2447 @xoxabs88xox @djs8891 @roosters-girl @rosiahills22 @dempy @callsign-magnolia @alchemxx @gretagerwigsmuse @lt-spork @beccaanne814-blog @bradshawsbaby @seitmai @kmc1989 @bcarolinablr @roosterisdaddy36 @itsdesiree86 @waywardhunter95 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @whatislovevavy @inkandarsenic @mak-32 @tomanybandstolove @jiminie-08 @dingochef @laracrofted @skipchat @princess76179 @schoollover @cheyrenee @angelbabyyy99 @bobfloydsbabe @sunlightmurdock @sebsxphia

[minecraftbookshelf]

Life Series Scarring Headcanons: Part 1

I'm going in alphabetical order by player handle, so this one is BDoubleo100, Bigbst4tz2, Ethoslab, and GoodTimesWithScar

The concept at hand is that during each game, every death leaves a scar, after the game, those are gone, replaced with scarring from their final death.

I did take some creative licence with the deaths, mostly in the sense of figuring out ways to handle Fall Damage in a slightly more RL based context, as well as figuring out approximately where final blows would fall based on the respective positioning of the players in question. (I did both a lot of video watching and also pointing at and posing myself figuring this out.)

Related to that Content Warning for general blunt but vague descriptions of varying injuries and ways to die, including but not limited to shattered bones and impaling.

Disclaimer that I did make all these diagrams in paint so they are hardly the pinnacle of artistic reference, but I think it gets the point across. Xs indicate arrow kills and i used the spray paint mode for fire/lava/explosion damage. All scars are color coded by series.

I forgot to mark it on the diagrams themselves, but light green is for scars left from the death of the Double Life soulbond partner. The soulmate who died second has phantom scars from their partners death, fainter and sometimes smaller, but still there.

Pink scars are the ones that, while not final deaths, had a significant impact on the story, the cubito, or both.

This project has also has shown some interesting patterns in how some of them tend to die.

On with the show!

BDubs

Third Life: Scar chased BDubs down and killed him with his sword before heading off with Grian to have Their Moment at the cactus ring. He turned around to fight Scar at the last minute, so the killing blow came from the front.

Last Life: BDubs was shot and killed by Grian as he fled after he betrayed the Red Pack and killed Lizzie so that Etho would give him a life.

Double Life: Pearl chased BDubs down and killed him (I believe with an axe) after Tilly died. Like in Third Life, he turned and fought at the last minute, so the killing blow came from the front.

Limited Life: Bdubs' final death was from a TNT Minecart dropped by Impulse, it landed slightly above and to the right of him, so that is where the damage is localized.

BigB

(You see what I mean about trends in the way that some of them tend to die?)

Third Life: BDubs shot him as BigB, the last surviving member of the Red Army, tried to escape from him and the Desert Duo. I placed that scar a bit lower than the others because BDubs is short.

Last Life: Cleo shot and killed him in a river. He was also poisoned from a potion she threw in the skirmish prior, so his health was very low. Reflecting that, my choice for that arrow was that it skimmed the side of his neck and he probably would have survived it had he been in better health at the time.

Double Life: Grian dropped a dripstone stalactite on Ren's head in Box, killing both Ren and BigB. His scar from this is a bit smaller and fainter than Ren's due to Ren being the one to actually receive the injury.

Limited Life: Smajor shot and killed him while he tried to escape through the woods. From what I can tell Scott came at him from the side, so I put the scar for that one reflecting it.

Etho

Believe it or not this is not the worst that it gets.

Third Life: Etho died to fire damage dealt by Impulse during the Battle of Dogwarts. I chose the location for it based of the direction the attack that initially caught him on fire came from.

Last Life: Joel killed Etho before dying himself when the later-game red lifers banded together to take out him and Grian. Etho struggled with his shield during that confrontation, which let Joel get enough hits in to kill him before being killed immediately after by Scott. I placed that injury as a glancing blow off the top rim of his shield.

Double Life: Etho and Joel died to a lava-trapped nether portal. The scars are from the lava flow. Etho died first, so his scars are a bit more prominent than Joel's.

Limited Life: Etho (like so, so many other people this season) died to fall damage. He was fighting the Mean Gills on the edge of the Bad Boy Manor and fell. The "camera angle" of the ground as he fell is pretty much how i decided where the impact probably was.

Scar

Third Life: I deviated a bit here because for everything else I really just went with "this was the final straw that broke the camels back" when picking scars, but I feel like the narrative and character significance of the Cactus Ring excuses the Death By A Thousand Cuts look. The heaviest concentration of scars from the ring are on his knuckles (from hitting), forearms (from blocking) and back and the side of his face (where he fell into the cacti).These are all small, relatively faint scars, there are just. A lot of them. EDIT: He's going to have some lasting explosion scars from the creeper Grian killed him with as soon as I have the opportunity to update the diagram.

Last Life: He was shot by Ren in a skirmish in the woods, that's genuinely all I have to say about that one, sorry. I decided it was a really good shot on Ren's part that got him right in the eye.

Double Life: So, sonic booms don't really...leave marks. They just liquidize your internal organs. I do think though that he and Grian probably have some faint mark approximating the center of their torsos. Because magic. And Lore.

Limited Life: Grian stabbed him in the back and then chased him down and killed him. The infamous "ultimate betrayal" because someone forgot that they were technically only barely endgame allies this season. Because Grian is incapable both of not killing Scar and not being dramatic about it.

-

Part 2

(There are five posts in this series in total, each of them will have links to the first one, as well as the one preceding and the one coming after)

[ggukkiedae]

pairing: lead singer!taehyun x guitarist!reader (but it's not mentioned)

warning/s: club setting, drinking

wc: 801

notes from cia: something from my drafts! ngl this was very loosely based on something similar i've experienced

The amount of people in the bar was making you feel a lot more uncomfortable than you’d hoped. It certainly didn’t help that multiple different people who you didn’t really know were offering you drinks or pulling you to dance. You loved Yunjin with all your heart, but the parties she threw tended to have way too many things happening at once.

The only reason you even agreed to go was to get your mind off of Taehyun. While you two were in a band together for a year, you and Taehyun never really became the closest of pairs, but that didn’t stop you from developing the slightest crush on him.

He was friendly, and some of your friends would even say he did some things with you that he wouldn’t normally do. Those were the statements that made you wonder if, maybe now that you left the band, absence did indeed make the heart fonder.

Whenever you’d visit rehearsal, he’d walk up to you, talk to you, and really try to keep your conversation running for as long as he could. It almost gave you hope, but you didn’t want to waste your time overthinking over something that could be nothing anyway.

That’s how you found yourself in one of Yunjin’s parties the night before Taehyun’s birthday.

As stealthily as you could, you slipped away from the main crowd of people, stretching your hand out to grab your cup from your table so you could find a quieter place to enjoy your drink, before accidentally backing into someone.

“I’m so sorry!”

“Where are you going?” The familiar voice made you turn and look up quicker. The very person you were trying not to think about was standing right there, and you couldn’t keep the stupidly pleased smile on your face from growing.

Taehyun was looking down at you, an amused smile of his own gracing his cheeks. Choosing to roll your eyes rather than give him a response, you checked your phone. 12:14AM.

“Oh my god,” you wrapped your arms around his waist, “happy birthday! You should get another drink to celebrate!”

He laughed and hugged you back, “Is that how it is? I’m pretty sure the bar is closed, so that isn’t something I can do at the moment.”

“Well, boooo. That’s no fun at all.”

You leaned out of the hug, faintly focusing on how, despite one of his hands safely tucking itself away into his pocket, Taehyun lightly skimmed the other down you back before resting it just above the waistband of your skirt.

Your breath hitched slightly when his hand made itself comfortable there. Maybe choosing to wear a crop top wasn’t your best choice for the night. Or it was the best? A million thoughts ran through your head. Did he know what he was doing? Could he feel you hyperfocusing on his hand on your skin? Did he know what this type of hand placement did?

“You know,” you grabbed your drink from the table next to you, trying your best to play it cool despite the fact that he really just kept his hand on your waist, “We still haven’t done that cover you promised me. It’s been, what, over a week?”

“If you include the period we didn’t actually decide on the song yet, I’d say it’s closer to one month.”

You raised your eyebrow at him, “Hey, you’re the one that’s been super busy this past week!”

“Yeah, okay, my bad, my bad,” Taehyun shook his head looking down and chuckled a little before looking back at you. “This week, let’s do it.”

You frowned a little, “I don’t even know if I’m gonna be in the area this week.”

“No problem. Let’s just say we’ll do it the next time we see each other.”

“Fine,” you blew your hair out of you face in a huff before drinking a little, only keeping yourself from finishing the whole glass when his hand tightened its grip on you waist the slightest bit, “but we have to do two covers now since we waited this long.”

“I’m down! Hell, we can even do three to be honest.”

“All I want is two,” you held up your pinkie to him, “pinky promise you won’t forget?”

An amused smile made its way to his lips while he removed his hand from his pocket and intertwined their pinkies, breaking into a small laugh when you sealed the pinky promise by stamping their thumbs together. The childish promise in the grownup environment surrounding you two was something you both found ironic.

“Good,” you smiled, “excuse me, I have to make sure Sunoo isn’t about to pass out on the table.”

With that, you slipped away from him, the spot where his hand rested already turning cold.

[callsigndragon]

Hold my hand | One

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x OFC / Jake Seresin x Red

Wordcount: 2.3k

Warnings: mentions of cancer, death, more death, someone's mom is a whore, the seresins had a shitty childhood... and then all fluffy and lovey dovey stuff!

Masterlist

If you want to get tagged, comment down below!

Eighteen. Jake was eighteen. Jenn was sixteen. It wasn’t the best idea. Heck, it wasn’t even an idea. It was just a choice. A choice made in a moment of need: Jake protecting Jenn while she ran upstairs to pack her things. 

Jake had been waiting for that moment since he was 10. Since the day their father died. Cancer was a bitch, and the Seresins had a taste of it. Tom, the human shield that kept the siblings safe from their mother, was gone. And for the next 8 years, Jake counted the days left until they could run away from that house. 

The day had come. 

“Where do you think you’re going, Jacob? You are not enough. You don’t know how to do anything!” Janine spat, tumbling around the living room and spilling the contents of her black mug—the one that was supposed to be used for coffee but that she filled with any alcoholic liquid she could find. “Nobody will love you. Nor you or your sister. That fucking whore. She’s a needy bitch, going around begging for some attention, and will end up pregnant like a cow before she turns twenty!”

Jake could hear Jenn running downstairs with tears in her eyes. How could her own mother talk about her like that? “If you hated the idea of becoming a mother so much, you shouldn’t have gotten pregnant in the first place!” 

“We are not the same, mother. Just because you don’t know how to do anything, it doesn’t mean I can’t learn.” Jake replied, taking a few steps back. She was the only person he was afraid of. 

“You don’t have money. You don’t know how to do anything! What are two little pieces of shit like you gonna do out of this house? You might as well give up. Kill yourselves and end my suffering.” The woman threw the mug over Jake’s head, missing Jenn by a hair. 

“I will wait until Jenn turns 17, and then we’ll join the Naval Academy. Like dad did.” Jake clenched his jaw, stopping the feelings flooding his mind at the thought of his late father. 

“You don’t have the guts!” 

“You’re just afraid of ending up alone. But we’re gonna walk out that door, and we won’t have to see your face again.” Jenn cried, choking up on her tears, feeling a mixture of anxiousness and impatience. 

And they did. They walked out. They never looked back. 

They took the reins. 

Jake parks his truck outside the Hard Deck, a bar that used to be the center of his world when he was a student at Top Gun. It’s been a while since those days. 

“Hey, isn’t that Javy’s car?” 

Jenn raises her head and looks at the black Chevrolet Impala parked next to them. “Holy shit, it is his car. Look, the little duck I bought him for Christmas.” 

Jake turns off the engine and gets off the truck, slamming the door behind him. “He came here and didn’t tell us?” 

Jake raises an eyebrow, pointing a finger at him. “Jay, you came here and didn’t tell him either.” 

“Because it’s a secret detachment” 

“And there you have your answer.” Jenn rolls her eyes, getting inside the bar and marveling at the ambience, the smell, and the homely, inviting atmosphere that reigns over the place. She never had called a place ‘home’, but she knows that this could be the closest thing to it. 

“Well, well, look at that! Javy Machado in the flesh.” 

“Valkyrie! Oh my goodness, we’re working together again?” Javy says, leaving his beer at the bartop and hugging the female. “Where’s the ugly Seresin?” 

“Right behind you.” Jake reveals, patting Coyote’s back and chuckling. “Please don’t flirt with my sister, it would be awkward.” 

“I’m not flirting!” Javy fusses, sitting down and gesturing to Penny, the owner, to bring two more beers. “This has to be a hell of a mission if we are here.” 

“Only the best of the best, Coyote.” Jenn raises her beer, the two men do the same, toasting for them and the future mission. 

“Do you think someone else might be joining us?” Jake asks, occupying the seat next to Javy’s. 

“We’re only three, and we don’t have a wizzo… We need another pilot with a back-seater.” Jenn adds, turning to the pool table and preparing the table so they can play. “Maybe Phoenix?” 

Jake thinks about it for a second. “Yeah… You can’t have a special secret mission only for the elite and not call her.” He looks at the flabbergasted expressions of the other two pilots and points at them with his index finger. “Don’t tell her I said that.” 

“She wouldn’t believe us even if we tried.” Javy jokes, grabs a pool cue, and gets ready to play. 

A few minutes pass, the three pilots absorbed by their game, until four more pilots join them, Phoenix at the head of the group. “What do we have here! If it ain’t Phoenix!” 

Jenn smiles when she sees Nat and looks with curiosity at the other three of them. She reads their names on the badges. Fitch, Garcia, and Jenkins. Jenkins kind of rings a bell, but she doesn’t remember why. 

“And here I thought we were special, guys. Turns out the invite went to anyone.” Jake teases, sitting in the pool, watching the newcomers' faces. He goes from Phoenix to the two men, but his eyes stop when they notice Jenkins’ eyes. They have to be the most beautiful eyes he has ever seen. Dark blue irises look at him, but he gets lost in the hazel ring around her pupils. Her eyes look like galaxies, and he fears that he might get lost in them if he stares too long. 

“Fellas,” Phoenix says, making Jake stop staring at the female pilot. “this here’s Bagman.” 

Jenn snorts, and Jake glares at him. “Hangman.” 

“Whatever.” Phoenix turns a bit, looking at the other three aviators. “You’re looking at the only other Naval Aviator on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill.” 

Jake smirks, faking modesty. “Stop. You’re gonna make me blush.” 

“Mind you, the other guy was in a museum piece from the Korean War.” Phoenix adds, looking at Hangman with her head tilted. How much she loves to tease him. 

“Cold war.” Jenn and Javy correct her at the same time. It might be an old plane, but it’s still a kill. 

“Same century,” Fitch says, crossing his arms over his chest. He is not impressed by the man’s achievements. 

“Not this one.” Garcia remarks, and Jenn looks at Javy, wondering what to do. “Red Queen has a confirmed air-to-air kill with a fifth gen aircraft. That’s impressive.”

“You know, I’ve heard a lot about this Red Queen, and yet, I have never seen her. I’m starting to believe she’s not even real, just a product of someone’s imagination to make my work look less impressive. I think someone’s jealous and goes around inventing rumors, guys.” Jake says, turning to grab his beer. 

“I’m Red Queen.” Jenkins announces, moving a step closer to him and smirking. “Want me to show you the report?” 

Jake clears his throat and gets up from his sitting position, as if he were really worried about looking like an idiot. More than he was already. “I am… I’m sorry. I really thought you were a myth. Everyone says you were the perfect student at the Naval Academy and, well, I am… I didn’t picture you like that.” 

“I know I’m short, but that has its benefits, Lieutenant Bagman.” She says, looking at the other two pilots. “My name is Rowan Jenkins. Red Queen. Everyone calls me Red.” 

Jenn, who had been looking at the exchange in front of her, blinks a few times and snaps out of her thoughts. “Oh shit. I’m Jenn Seresin. Valkyrie. This is Javy Machado. Call sign Coyote. And the… Bagman here is Jake Seresin.” 

“Wait, you’re siblings?” Rowan says, looking between the two Seresins, trying to spot some similarities. Yeah, she can see some of them. 

“Unfortunately.” Jenn mutters, earning a smack in the back of her head from Javy. “Who’re your friends, Phoenix?” 

“I’m Mickey Garcia. Fanboy.” 

“Reuben Fitch. Payback.” He says, smiling. “Revenge was already taken.” 

Jenn smiles, and smiles at Phoenix. “Glad to see you here.” 

“This mission can’t work without me, what can I say.” She gestures in the direction of the bar, and speaks again. “Who’s he?”

The friend trio frowns, not understanding her words. “Who’s who?” 

Phoenix motions in the direction of a guy, seated down, eating, and cleaning his lap. He doesn’t seem to realize that he’s the center of attention. Suddenly, he raises his head, and he’s a bit startled by the number of eyes staring at him. 

“When did you come in?” Jenn asks, moving so she can see the aviator. 

“Oh, I’ve been here the whole time.” 

There’s a moment of silence, Jenn and Jake share a look. Jenn knows that look. He’s about to make a joke that can be either the most unfunny thing ever, or really offensive. “The man’s a stealth pilot. Literally.” 

Well, it wasn’t that bad. 

“Weapons Systems Officer, actually.” The wizzo replies, looking at all the faces that are staring at him. 

“With no sense of humor.” Jake’s sister is about to smack him, but he gets up and walks toward the bar. 

“What do they call you?” Natasha asks, interested in knowing the wizzo better. 

“Bob.” 

“No, your call sign.” Payback chuckles, knowing that it’s something that happens regularly. Aviators are more often called by their call sign than by their name, so sometimes you don’t know where the call sign ends and your name starts. 

“...Bob.” He insists, and they all look at each other. 

“Wait, you’re Bob Floyd? From Lemoore? You’re my new back-seater.” Phoenix says, walking closer to her wizzo. Other than herself, the person on whom she will rely the most.

“Looks like it.” Bob answers, smiling a bit. 

Jenn turns to look at Javy. “Dude, have you seen Jake?” 

“Val, you have to be a bit more specific here. I see him a lot. He’s not as good looking as he thinks.” Javy remarks, earning a slap from Jenn. “Auch!” 

“Idiot. How he was looking at Red before he knew who she was? Did you see that?” Jenn reiterates, looking over to the bar to make sure that her brother doesn’t come back. “I’ve never seen him look at a girl like that.” 

Javy thinks about it for a minute, noticing how his best friend keeps looking over his shoulder to look at her. “He’s smitten.” 

Jake’s sister almost has a fangirl moment because, for the first time in years, Jake Seresin might be interested in someone for more than just sex. “I never thought I’d see this day.” 

“Can we emphasize the fact that he has fallen for the only girl that is better than him at his job?” Javy says biting his bottom lip to not laugh. 

“...Holy shit, you’re right!” 

Jake comes back from the bar, having changed the song on the jukebox. “Bradshaw! As I live and breathe.” Jake says, walking over to Jenn and Javy to give them some beers. He gives one to Red and the other to Phoenix. 

Javy’s eyes widen when he realizes that Bradshaw is, in fact, standing right next to Phoenix. “Oh my god.” 

“What the fuck is he doing here? He’s not fast enough for a special mission,” Jenn says, as if that were the only reason she doesn’t want him there. 

“You look good, Hangman.” Rooster says, watching Hangman’s every movement. It’s only then, when he stops right next to his sister, that he realizes that Jenn Seresin is also in the building. Brilliant. 

“I am good, Rooster. I’m very good. In fact, I am too good to be true.” Hangman says, making Phoenix and Rooster share a glance. 

Jenn looks at Rooster, the man who once was everything she ever wanted, and turns to keep talking with Javy. Family comes first, she reminds herself. Hangman might be a pain in the ass, but Rooster is not a saint, either. He talked as much shit as Hangman did back in the academy days. 

“What I wanna know is who’s team leader? And which of y’all have what it takes to follow me?” Jake states, looking at the others. 

“Of course, I’ll be team leader.” Valkyrie says, winking at Javy, who shakes his head. 

“Nah, Jenn. You’re wrong. It’s gonna be me.” Hangman insists, giving the pool cue to Javy. 

“Hangman, the only place you’ll ever lead anyone is an early grave.” Bradley raises his voice, wanting to be heard by all of the present aviators, even those who are having private conversations. Jenn glares at him, body already moving in his direction, but she’s stopped by Javy and Jake before she can say anything that she might regret later. 

Instead, the other Seresin walks to Rooster, slowly but with a smirk on his face. “And anyone who follows you is just gonna run outta fuel. But then that’s you all over, ain’t it Rooster? Snug on your perch, waitin’ for juuuuust the right moment. That never comes.” Jake smirks, tilting his head. “And I’m not talking about your performance as a pilot, only.” 

“Jake.” Valkyrie warns him, not wanting this to become too personal. 

Slow rider sounds in the back, and Jake laughs. “I love this song!” 

He leaves, and Phoenix and Rooster exchange a few words, but Jenn can’t hear him. She’s more focused on Bradshaw and that stupid Hawaiian shirt he’s wearing. One that she knows too well. 

She bought it for him when they were dating. 

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

Taglist:

@shrimping-for-all

@purplevortexx

@emorychase

@xoxabs88xox

[ameagrice]

night changes ; chapter one

obx || topper x fem reader

If you could change it all, would you? Would swapping your beginning with Topper really make anything better? At one point or another, you’d have to make stupid choices and say stupid things with some boy. You hadn’t ever imagined he’d do something like this.

“You have to tell Rafe,” you implored, hands on his forearms, almost chasing his gaze as he turned his head away. “Tell him to tell the truth!”

Topper sighed firmly through his nose, his face hard when he turned back to look at you. “What makes you think he’ll even do it, huh? What’s done is done. There’s no use in getting us mixed up anymore.”

Your mouth gaped. “There’s no use?! There’s so much use! He’s ruined everything between us and he’s ruined my life here! You don’t know how hard it is to constantly be talked shit about—people give me dirty looks and say things twenty-four-seven! You know I’m not pregnant. Why aren’t you doing anything?”

“Why aren’t you doing anything?” He returned harshly, ripping his arms away from your hold.

“I am! I’m trying! People won’t listen to me. I need your help, here, Topper! You’re a boy, and you’re a Kook and you’re popular; it’s so much better for you! You have more power than you think in this situation—”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Oh, don’t give me that crap—”

“If you don’t tell Rafe, for the last time, I will. And I’m starting to lose my patience.”

“You know what, just go. Go talk to Rafe. If you hadn’t come to find me that night this wouldn’t have happened. It’s your fault.”

He’d never be who you thought he was. Constantly switching around you. And it all started on September 3rd, 2019.

“No. Oh just fuck off already…”

“Who?” The positive voice of Mia piped up at your side, forcing you to sigh. “Oh. Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you almost spat, slapping the sheet of paper face-down on the table, hand splayed over it. “Ain’t happening. I’m not doing that.”

“Could be worse,” Mia offered, shrugging. You almost glowered at her. What on earth could be worse than working with Topper Thornton? “You could have Hazel Miriadetchie.”

Topper Thornton was, very easily, a boy everybody knew of but very few knew personally. Unless you were a Kook with thousands of not millions of dollars, you weren’t getting near the guy to so much as breathe. He stayed around his people, was known as a resident class-A jerk and was pretty much your typical ‘popular’ dude. Although why he was popular in the first place was a mystery; nobody liked him.

“I’ll take Hiccup Hazel over tall-ass Topper any day.”

You lifted the paper and turned it over with a heavy heart. The sheet hadn’t even made it over to his side of the room yet, which was probably why he was still laughing too loudly with his friends. Sighing, you read three times the writing in big bold at the very top of the page:

NO SWAPPING PARTNERS.

No. He wouldn’t be happy.

“Hey! Are you gonna keep hold of that forever or?…”

You almost threw it to the girls behind you, who muttered a sarcastic thanks.

“At least your partner doesn’t talk shit about anyone who isn’t mega rich,” you muttered into your hand, resting your chin on it. “You know, those people are dog shit, man,” you imitated quietly. Mia snorted. “Man, I gotta say –”

“Who even is that?”

You paused instantly, tuning in on the boys’ conversations at the back.

“I don’t know. Is she hot?”

Oh, now you were seriously dreading this. Dealing with Topper would have been easy if you had to just talk to him, sacrifice a few hours a week of your time to working together. But you hadn’t thought of how judgemental the type of boy Topper was could be. He’d be judging you on your looks, basing your worthiness of his respect off your features, and you knew it for a fact. Girls who didn’t throw themselves at boys like him were never given the time of day, and would be on the receiving end of backhanded comments. You had felt that hurt personally. If you were normal-looking, averagely pretty, you were overlooked by Topper.

Sometimes you thanked your average prettiness for that.

“How am I supposed to know if I don’t know who the fuck she is?”

A round of snickers and brief laughter started up your nerves. Ughhhhh.

“Alright!” Mr. Vaughn’s deep baritone coveted the other voices in the room. The boys at the back of the room slowly fell quiet. “We have about thirty minutes left, so you need to find the partner you are going to be working with up until Christmas and get started on ideas for your project. As it says on the board, this can be a video, a written paper of a maximum of one hundred pages, or another creative thing you guys come up with. If you wanted you can incorporate everything I just said, but I have to approve of it first. Got it?”

Mumbles agreed around the classroom. It was one of those hot days where the fans only blew humid air, the sunlight was too hot through the roller blinds, and your palms were sticky with sweat that couldn’t be avoided.

The next few moments filled with the scraping of chairs across the floor, the chatter growing louder of people hugging their friends before they moved away, and the reluctant footsteps of people in the same situation as you who were being forced to sit with people they would otherwise never speak to. Your thought process was this: why make people, who have never met, work together poorly, when you could work and complete the work properly with people you actually liked.

Sociology class was always a brain-wringer.

You waited in your seat as people settled, searching for some kind of tell which would indicate that Topper Thornton would not give you shit the second you started heading over.

And you were putting it off.

As Hazel waited beside your desk, looking between yourself and Mia, you had no choice but to stand and move. Your baby-blue dress thankfully wasn’t showing any sweat marks when you stood, hitting your thighs lightly as you leaned over to collect your shoulder bag and oversized denim jacket from under the desk, slinging your bag on to your shoulder and your jacket over your forearms. Anxiety twisted and tingled in your chest as you began walking down the classroom, to the third row from the back, where Topper Thornton’s left side sat unoccupied for once, Kelce Smith having moved to sit with a girl on the other side of the room.

Wordlessly, you slipped behind his desk and dropped both your bag and jacket to the floor, sliding on to the chair Kelce had not pushed in. These kind of desks were a god-send, the kind that could fit two chairs underneath but provided enough space that neither of you ended up squished together. You looked straight ahead, crossing one leg over the other under the desk, and through your peripheral vision, Topper turned his head briefly to look at you. He didn’t say anything—just looked forward again, silent.

Inside your chest, your heart beat away frantically. Was it a good or bad sign that Topper didn’t speak?

Mr. Vaughn, an older man in his fifties with grey hair slicked back and never seen without a shirt and tie, clasped his hands together standing at the front of the classroom. “Great! Okay. So, you guys can go ahead and get started on your projects. I want a title or question relevant to this semester’s topic of environment, again presented however you wish. At the end of the class I need a brie plan written down of yours and your partner’s about your chosen topic and the way you wish to display it.”

He settled back behind his desk as the classroom erupted into excited talk of all things imaginable in life. You turned your head to Topper, to make the first move in this since you knew he just wouldn’t, only to find him turn completely away from you, your eyes drifting across the classroom to the boy he called for.

“Hey, Kelce! So you know how I was saying about it before?”

“Oh, man, I ain’t ever getting over that!”

They rattled on as if you weren’t even there. In a way, you were grateful; maybe this meant it was possible to choose everything on your own and work by yourself. Topper nearly deafened you calling across the room, and eventually he got up and went over to Kelce and his partner. She was fully involved in their conversation, leaving you to yourself. Your eyes drifted up to Mia, who was already looking at you. Beside her, Hazel was talking animatedly and writing shit down. Mia raised her hand and, faking a cough, made a gesture across her throat, sticking her tongue out sideways.

You snickered to yourself quietly, leaning down and pulling your notebook and a pen from your bag. If Topper didn’t want to help you, then you’d get it done yourself.

In capital letters at the title top, you wrote your question and free-handed underlining it.

WHAT EFFECT DOES THE ENVIRONMENT AND ITS STRESSORS HAVE ON HUMAN BEHAVIOUR?

Good enough for a random, off-the-top-of-your-head thought. You supposed you could alter it or rephrase the whole thing later at home if you wanted. But for now, it would do. Displaying it in writing, as a research paper or essay, would probably work best here. You could split it all in sections and maybe add some fancy words here and there…

The chair beside you screeched as someone sat down too quickly on it. You looked up. Topper leaned back in his chair, against the table behind you, one foot on the edge of your desk to hold himself there and his phone in hand. He was smirking, typing quickly. You didn’t even want to know

“So you’re doing the writing, yeah?”

You tried hard not to show on your face the annoyance you felt, but you were pretty sure it was obvious. What could go wrong here if you spoke your mind? Topper not speaking to you? Tough shit. Good riddance. You were eighteen and in your last year of highschool. Who cared.

“Right now, yeah” you answered snarkily. “Because you’re not doing a thing.”

Topper looked up from his phone, shock showing lightly on his features. “What?”

His tone said what did you say to me? While you couldn’t care less.

“Right now I’m doing the work but I am not doing it all by myself.”

He pulled a face you could only describe as disgust; his nose pulled slightly, and his brows frowned. “Whatever. What’s our question?”

You read out what you’d written and were met with silence. “That alright?” it was going to be alright whether he liked it or not. No contribution; no changing it.

“Sure.” His reply was snipy.

This project was sure to suck big time.

-> if you’d like to be added to a taglist, just comment or message!

[stellasfictionalworld]

part 7.

part 8 (out now)

a/n: kinda a filler, but builds out some stuff. already posted the next chapter as well!!

let me know if you wanna be on a tag list <333

reader x andre anderson 

cw: (i mean you’ve watched the show so) negative views of sex, reader seeing sex as a tool rather than pleasure, implied sex, toxic ex's, drugs, drinking, angst, eventual fluff, slut shaming

word count: 2k

You read off the script teleprompter with a forced smile. Your lips were coated in an overly expensive lipstick brand. Then you shifted your eyes to the mirror on the set. You wore a skimpy pink dress with white fluffy white wings on the back. You drew a heart with a bow through it and panned to the camera again. 

Then you blew a kiss at the camera and someone shouted “It's a wrap!” afterward. Your shoulders dropped and you immediately walked off the set. The white lights made you see spots in your changing room. You ripped the dress off and scrubbed off the pink on your lips. You rushed to get into some jeans and a pink top. You were in the middle of tying your laces as you heard a voice. 

“Well, my daughter is a bit overwhelmed. After all, she’s doing so much,” your mom’s voice felt like listening to nails on a chalkboard. Fuck. You sighed, trying to think of some sort of diversion or a plan to get out of here. She called your name outside the door. Fuck.

“Yeah just a second,” you said before wearing a gray hoodie. You took in a deep breath and then forced on a smile. The door unlocked and there was your mother. She stood tall in her black office dress. You were practically a spitting image of her, even your fake smile matched the one she wore.

  “Hi Mom,” you said and looked down at your phone. You fixed your hair as you looked at the camera and walked to her. You both smiled into it and you posted it on your story. Writing, 

done shooting for a commercial, mom came too ♥ .

“What’s up?” you asked and put your phone away. You walked past all the staff and she was by your side. 

“What’s up?” she quoted. “You haven’t talked to me in weeks,” she said. 

“That’s not true. We literally saw each other two days ago,” you glanced at her. She was holding her tongue, the frustration building up. 

“To sign paperwork,” she said. “I mean really talking with you, I’m worried,” her voice was low. 

A pit formed in your stomach, you already knew where this was going. 

“The headlines of me being a slut for a guy? Yeah, I’m fucking fine,” you slammed the door to the exit. You threw up your hoodie as your mom scoffed. 

“Well,” she dragged out the word and you looked at her. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her eyebrows furrowed together. The pit in your stomach grew. 

“God Mom,” you groaned, “I haven’t even fucked him yet,” you said. 

“Jesus, don’t have to go that far into detail,” she said. 

“Well you wanted to know,” you shrugged. You stopped at a vending in the hallway, pressing the numbers. 

“Do you like him?” she asked. 

“I think so,” you muttered as a KitKat got stuck in the vending machine. “Fuck,” your head hit the glass. 

“Oh stop being dramatic,” your mom said. “Anyway, figure it out. It’s good for branding if you’ll stick to a guy. Maybe it’ll finally bury the slut shaming and those pictures,” she said like it didn’t twist the knife in your heart. “Just actually stick with someone this time, I don’t fucking care who,” she added with a snark. You jammed in the number again and the other KitKat fell on top of the other. You then tried to shake the machine but it didn’t budge. 

“Jesus Christ, listen,” she scoffed. “Your image is on the line, so don’t go fucking it up again,” she put a hand on your shoulder. There wasn't a single ounce of warmth in her voice, just the professional boss you knew the day you told her you had powers. You numbly nodded and she patted your shoulder. Nodding like it was your fault those pictures were taken like you had a fucking choice. You bit the inside of your cheek till you tasted pennies. Then a phone rang and she pulled her hand away. 

“Yes, this is her,” she paused, “no we canceled his sponsorship. Yeah just send those pallets to someone else, someone more fucking woke whatever,” she continued for a couple of minutes before hanging up. You were still staring at the vending machine in the empty hallway. Your chest got tight. Your mom sighed. “We were supposed to have this huge sponsorship but the guy had to leave evidence of being a pedo,” she shook her head, “the beauty community is a fucking shit show, so much drama.”

“Mom,” you turned around and she gave you a blank stare. “Do you think I’m a slut?” you asked.

“Oh honey,” your mom frowned and placed a hand on your shoulder, “Young people go through so many phases, it’ll blow over,” then her phone rang. She picked it up. You stared at her blankly, your heart shattered to pieces. Tears welled up in your eyes. 

“Sorry honey, I’ve gotta go,” she said, “take that hoodie off by the way, or get something pink instead,” and then she walked towards the exit. When the door clicked you slid down the vending machine, tears falling down your face. You brought your knees to your chest and let it all out. You’d learned last summer that bottling it up would only make it worse. You stifled back sobs and let it pass. 

When you were done you wiped away the tears, thankful the hallway was dead. Anyway, if someone saw you cry, at least the hoodie protected your face. You wouldn’t want a phone call from your mother, shouting at you for still wearing gray and crying in public. Speaking of people, footsteps slowly made it your way. You stared down at your sneakers, fiddling with the zipper of your hoodie. 

“Cupid?” Luke asked. 

“Yep,” you muttered and wiped away your remaining tears. 

“Oh shit, are you okay?” he asked. You nodded your head up and down, then side to side. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. You shook your head and he didn’t say anything. He walked around you to put in the code for whatever he wanted. The machine whirred and something landed with a loud thud. 

“Fuck,” he said and you looked up at him. “I was gonna share a KitKat with you… but it’s stuck…” he said. 

“Fuck,” you laughed, “the ones under it are mine,” you said. 

“That is so unlucky,” he said and then asked you to move away from the machine. He then shook the machine and all three of them fell. He grabbed them and handed you your share. You thanked him and he sat beside you. You unwrapped the chocolate and took a bite. 

“I don’t want to pry but, are you upset with Andre?” he asked and you whipped your head in his direction. 

“No no, it’s not us,” you said, almost shocked he even thought to ask. He cracked a smile for some reason and you tilted your head to the side. “Should I be upset with him?” you raised a brow. 

“No, not at all,” he shook his head. 

“Good,’’ you sighed. You and Andre had been seeing each other for almost two weeks now. Except for the last couple of days, he had some promotional shit to do with his dad. You two usually hang out in private. Inside each other's dorms usually, or one of his friends' places. It was something your mom suggested, saying you wouldn’t embarrass Andre that way, which she was right. Also no, you hadn’t even had your first kiss with Andre yet. Just small pecks on the cheek and lots of holding hands. He seemed okay with it, never pushing you to be as affectionate as he was. However, you were afraid you’d bore him soon. 

“I’m going to be honest,” Luke started and you held your breath. “You make Andre happy, like I’ve never seen him so… infatuated with someone. He really likes you,” he said. 

Your brows knitted together and you smiled softly. “Really?” you asked, not that Andre never told you the same things. He adored you and let you know every single day. Though you’ve had people in the past tell you the same things and it was all a lie. 

“Yep,” he said with a proud smile. You smiled wider, looking down at your KitKat. Then looked up at Luke with a brow raised. “Infatuated is a pretty big word for you,” you joked and he looked offended.

“That’s rude, after what I just told you,” he playfully said and put a hand over his heart. “I confided in you,” he continued. 

“Not my fault Cate is your chatty tutor,” you said and bumped his shoulder. 

You both laughed softly in the quiet hallway and ate your KitKat’s. Luke then got a text and sighed. Worry lines traced his face but then he plastered on a smile your way. It was so easy to spot, that you sometimes wondered why all of you tried to hide it from each other. You didn’t press it, you two weren’t exactly that close for you to comment. 

“Sorry, I have to do more training,” he said and got up. “But if you ever need a KitKat break, let me know,” he said and you nodded up at him. 

“Thanks,” you softly smiled and he was off. There was warmth in your chest as you finished your second KitKat.

… 

You unlocked your dorm room door and headed inside. You stared at the messy bed across from yours. Ashley and you were not on talking terms recently. It had been almost over two weeks since you told her you needed a break. She begged at first, but when you calmly stated you needed space, she respected it. Sorta. She still did text you, simply about school, trying to get you back. However, you just ignored them. 

You dropped your bag on the floor and collapsed on your bed. You breathed in your lavender sheets and tucked yourself in. You reached for your charger and your knuckles brushed up against some paper. You looked at your nightstand to see a bouquet sitting on it. You sat up in bed and picked it up. 

Your favorite flowers with a couple of others were arranged beautifully. You took in their floral scent and gently pried off the taped envelope. Your name was written with a heart next to it. You opened it and took out the letter. The handwriting was clean and in pink ink. 

Heard you had a rough day, baby. 

Hoping these make you feel better.  

– Andre♥️

P.S. I’m definitely making up for the time I’ve been gone. 

Your heart burst and you smiled stupidly at the card. Immediately you sent a selfie of yourself with flowers. You added every single heart emoji you could find and thanked him. You opened your Instagram account, pulling up the photo to share on your story. Your thumb hovered over the send button, wondering if Andre even wanted to be more associated with you. It was eating you up on the inside, the shame of just being who you were. You shut your phone off and slammed a pillow over your face. Letting out an embarrassing and much-needed scream. 

This guy fucking liked you, a lot. You liked him just as much. He set butterflies in your stomach still and made you feel like you were on top of the world. Seriously, when was the last time a guy cared about so much? Your heart hammered against your chest and you pulled the pillow down to your chest. You needed to stop beating yourself up, eventually everyone would forget.  “Fuck it,” you said and got your phone. You made sure to tag him. You hit send and then put your phone on Do Not Disturb. Your chest felt heavy but you also felt giddy. You tried to sleep afterward, it being 10 pm already, but you were so restless.