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daechwitatamic · 2 days ago

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Cinnamon || KMG {teaser} - coming Feb. 7!

(banner by @sailorsoons)

Written for the Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab!

Cinnamon mingyu x fem!reader (nicknamed Sunny for Reasons), reader x male oc for a while fluff smut angst best friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, idiots to lovers all apply NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: You finally decide to try and move on after years of waiting for Mingyu to return your feelings. But when you start bringing your new boyfriend around more often, things with Mingyu get... difficult.

WC: 19k teaser wc: 900

Warnings: language, recreational drinking and overdrinking, a brief mention of throwing up from a hangover, angst and hurt feelings, not miscommunication but definitely refusal to communicate, kissing (some with mg and some with a male oc), arguments, reader and mingyu are both imperfect people who make mistakes and do things wrong... theyre not bad or toxic people but their choices can be hurtful... theyre humans who mess up have to just do better going forward, quick and prosey piv smut

teaser warnings: language, angst, drunkenness

a/n: beta'd by @sailorsoons and @eoieopda smooch smooch love yall

Mingyu is an avalanche. Rushing, rolling, thundering over and through you until there’s nothing left but a glinting field of ice and silence. Nothing else matters - nothing else exists - in his wake.

“You better watch out, Mingyu,” Jeonghan says from the couch, and your blood runs as cold as that field of ice, because you know he’s about to start some shit. “Sunny got flowers from her lover today. That guy’s coming for your woman.”

You’re opening your mouth to reprimand him - tell him to shut up, or something - but Mingyu beats you to it.

“Sunny’s not mine,” he says simply.

All that ice evaporates in an instant like it was never there.

“My lover,” you echo with a frown, when you can speak again. “Don’t say it like that, you weirdo.”

“Well, isn’t he?” Jeonghan asks innocently.

You head for your bedroom with a roll of your eyes. “Goodnight, Jeonghan.”

“That means yes,” he sing-songs, and you slam your door shut.

Wonwoo’s voice floats through the door. “Who pissed off Sunshine?”

Mingyu responds with a growl, “Who do you think?”

–

You and Mingyu lay side by side in the grass, a late spring night unspooling with cricket song and a smattering of flickering stars above you. His arm touches yours and you can feel his chest shift as he breathes deeply.

You feel content - you feel infinite - you feel like one of those blinking stars. You feel like you could lay here next to him in silence and be happy until your light goes out, just like theirs.

“Mingyu,” you say, turning to look at him. The grass tickles your cheek.

He turns to look at you, too. It’s dark, here behind the university’s main hub, most of the lights on the far side of the building. Still, there’s enough light to see his eyes, steady on you, his gaze serious.

“Sunny Baby,” he responds, voice low, like he’s telling you a secret. “I love you.”

You startle awake, heart pounding, and you’re immediately furious.

“Fuck,” you hiss, punching your mattress once.

The pathetic truth is you dream about that night in undergrad all the time - you and Mingyu on one of the last nights before summer break, leaving a party together and laying in the grass behind the advising department building watching the constellations rotate above you.

The pathetic truth is the dream never follows the script, always turning the scene sideways, making it something different than what it was.

The pathetic truth is that Mingyu had been blacked out, more fucked up than you’d ever seen him, and you’d laid in the grass because you physically couldn’t keep him upright any further than that and you’d had to text Wonwoo to come help you.

You hadn’t said anything to Mingyu - at least not something meaningful. You might have said please don’t puke on me, or god, you weigh a ton, or how many jaegerbombs did you do?

He had said he loved you - had slurred it, eyes closed.

You had laughed, even though it had sent a dagger through your chest. “Okay, Romeo,” you’d teased, and checked your phone to see if Wonwoo was on his way to help.

“I do,” he’d insisted, one hand patting the grass next to him like he was trying to find you. “Sunny, I love you.”

You didn’t know how he meant it - still don’t know, to this day, because you don’t think he even remembers saying it and you’d been too afraid to bring it up.

What were you supposed to say? Hey, when you were blacked out last night, you said you love me… do you mean like… platonically… or…?

God. The idea of it is just as humiliating now, years later, as it had been in the weeks that followed that night. And though he’s said it regularly since then, he never said it like that, and you never pushed it.

Now, awake and furious and sad at three in the morning, you grab your phone and climb out of bed.

You know you shouldn’t. You know it’s only making this worse for you. But you make your way on light steps through the dark and silent apartment to Mingyu’s door and push it open.

Is it mithridatism, this thing you do? Microdosing on the poison so that a full dose won’t kill you? No, that isn’t right. A full dose of Mingyu won't kill you. It’s an absence of Mingyu that you need protection from.

You climb into his bed and poke at his calves with your toes until he grunts as he wakes. Then, as he gathers his senses, he rolls to look at you over his shoulder.

“Bad dream?” he asks, voice kind of breathy with sleep.

“Mhm.”

He rolls the rest of the way, lifts his arm so you can scoot a little closer. You breathe easier immediately. It makes no sense that the thing that hurts you is also the only thing that makes you feel better.

“Won’t your lover object to you getting in bed with me?” he asks, and you can hear the edge in his voice as clear as day.

You let out a single, wry ha. He’s got a point, but Daeyoung isn’t your boyfriend, you aren’t exclusive, and what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“Nah,” you say easily. “I’m not his.”

Welcoming to the world the fic I have lovingly dubbed Cinnamingyu!!! Coming Friday, February 7th!!!

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aureatelys · 17 hours ago

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adore you

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader w.c. 3k a/n: written for @mggslover's 1k celebration event, congrats baby! i initially wrote 5k, hated it, and basically rewrote all of it but i swear i still had fun writing this. i hope you enjoy <3

summary:

Weird. You're acting like my boyfriend. - God Is a Freak, Peach PRC Your boss has essentially become your best friend. What the hell does Derek mean he looks at you a certain way?

c.w.: fluff! friends to lovers, age gap ofc, feelings realization, reader is oblivious and tipsy but is a consenting party

read below or on ao3 here <3

“So, you and Hotch, huh?”

You had just finished putting your coat up, stepping through the massive entryway of Rossi’s mansion, when Derek approaches you with that familiar shit-eating grin and hands rubbing together like he’s scheming something.

You blink up at him, confused. “Yeah… he gave me a ride.”

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head but still wearing that smile that made you want to lovingly punch him. “Yeah, I saw that. I meant, you and Hotch aren’t…?”

You squint at him, because you really aren’t sure what he’s hinting at. Also, a glass of wine has been calling your name since you started getting ready and Derek is very much in the way of that. Hotch was always annoyingly punctual, and today was no different because you were honestly about to open up a bottle when you heard his car pull up in the driveway. “We aren’t what?”

“Sweetness. You’re really trying to tell me you and Hotch aren’t together?”

You choke on your spit, coughing so loud in your fist that it echoes down the entryway and gathers the attention of Rossi and Hotch at the end of it. You wave them off when they both give you equally alarmed and concerned looks while Derek laughs heartily, like the asshole he is.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you hiss at him, slapping him on the shoulder as he nearly makes himself tear up from laughing.

Derek puts a somewhat apologetic hand on your arm as he steers you to the kitchen and pours you a glass of red, finally. “Hey, I see the way he looks at you, I just wanted to make sure I’m up to date on everything.”

And that catches your attention.

Your chest still aching from your coughing fit, you give him another perplexed look. “What? He looks at me the same way as he looks at everyone.”

Derek’s face morphs into a nervous, almost uncomfortable one as he starts slowly backing away into the living room, as if you were an unpredictable dangerous animal. “I think I’m gonna… look for Garcia.”

And then he turns on his heel and is out of the kitchen before you can blink, leaving you with your lone glass of wine and the sounds of laughter emanating from the patio.

You’re still so fucking confused, because you and Hotch were only friends. In fact, you can almost consider him your best friend with the way you two are spending so much time together, even on the weekends.

One late night spent in his office to work on reports that were due the next day that you had procrastinated on and ordering Chinese food eventually turned into a habitual thing, now spending the last hour of the workday every night in his office. Then, he started inviting you to the park to play with Jack who had apparently been asking for you, then staying for dinner because Hotch was not eating the way he should’ve been and him and Jack didn’t deserve to eat pizza rolls with mac and cheese every night.

It's been a couple of months and now, you can honestly say you two are nearly attached at the hip. You’ve tried to tone it down for the office, because you knew you would get teased, and clearly you were right.

But dating Hotch? Honestly, the thought had never occurred to you.

You’ve been single for over a year and you were okay with that, because at least the job kept you busy. And you know for a fact that Hotch hasn’t even thought about dating since Beth moved a couple of years ago.

The sudden thought of Beth, her pretty blue-green eyes and perfect hair, causes a sour taste to form in your mouth. You had never met her, having only technically heard good things about her, but every time you thought of her or someone mentioned her in passing, you felt… upset.

For no reason.

When you glance at Hotch from where he’s talking with the rest of the team on the patio, you catch his gaze for a brief second before he’s turning his head back around to chuckle at something Rossi says.

You feel your heart start to race, your blood rushing through your ears, because what the fuck did Derek mean when he said Hotch looks at you a certain way? You were telling the truth when you said you’ve only noticed him looking at you platonically and nothing more.

Sure, Hotch was conventionally attractive, handsome even. You guess he hit all your boxes in a guy; tall, capable hands, and pretty brown eyes. He was a good boss, a good man, and was always putting other people first before even thinking about himself. He had an intense sense of justice, loves children, and would do absolutely anything for his team and even beyond for Jack.

He has a nice laugh once you break down his walls. For all he’s meticulous at work, his house is absolutely chaotic and it takes you nearly an hour sometimes to get him and Jack ready for a soccer game. He doesn’t prefer to cook but he seems to enjoy it more when you’re in the kitchen with him, laughing at his technique and groaning about the lack of certain utensils.

The sudden realization that you like Hotch, your boss that is older than you by 20 years, hits you like a ton of bricks. You nearly snap the stem of your wine glass, something like panic and mortification climbing up your throat before you could help it.

It’s fine, you’re fine. It’s normal to have a crush on someone you spend time with on a regular basis and is conventionally attractive. You can deal with that.

But the absolute possibility that Hotch doesn’t want you romantically was very real. In fact, it had to be the only possibility. You were younger and less experienced, both romantically and professionally. The only reason that he’s been spending so much time with you was because you needed guidance and reassurance as the newest member of the team.

He doesn’t look at you any differently than the others. That’s it. Derek has no idea what he’s talking about.

You take a shuddering deep breath, quickly composing yourself because, hello, you work with profilers. Which meant you couldn’t avoid or hide from Hotch tonight, no matter how much you wanted to.

When you make your way out to the patio to join the others with a full glass of wine and you spot the only space left in the circle was between Spencer and Penelope, you internally thank whatever God was out there. The sound of them talking over each other about something inane was oddly comforting as your eyes met Aaron’s from the other side of the circle.

His eyes appeared golden from the numerous fairy lights strewn across Rossi’s backyard, making his face appear softer and younger. You’re not sure how it took you this long to realize he was so handsome.

He raises his eyebrows at you, silently asking if you were okay because, somehow, he’s grown to learn your facial expressions like the back of his hand, which means he most likely will catch on to you having a silly juvenile crush on him.

You give him a weak smile, raising your glass slightly before taking a large gulp of it. You’re glad that Rossi is Rossi and that he doesn’t spare any expenses when he throws his parties, the strong cherry flavor refreshing compared to your cheap boxed wine you’re used to. You don’t even remember what you were celebrating tonight, or if you were even celebrating anything at all and this was just another much needed get together after case after case.

You catch something soft in Hotch’s eyes that makes your chest pang painfully as he raises his own glass of whiskey before taking a sip. No one else has noticed, too enthralled by their own conversations, so the intimacy of the private moment doesn’t escape you, in fact making you even more anxious.

It was going to be a long night.

You are absolutely going to give Derek an earful on Monday morning.

It’s entirely his fault that you’re not enjoying Rossi’s party to the full extent, his words swimming in your mind.

Now, you’re psychoanalyzing and second-guessing everything Hotch does.

You had made sure to walk alongside Penelope on the way to the large round table for dinner, somewhat consciously as you continued to avoid Hotch but also because she was rambling about the show you suggested she watch. Spencer was on the other side of you, interjecting whenever he could, and you made a mental note that Hotch was still on the other side of the circle between Rossi and Tara.

So imagine your surprise when, after you tear your attention away from Spencer’s ramblings and back to Penelope, you’re met with Hotch’s pretty eyes and woodsy cologne instead.

“Oh, hi,” you say, hoping he doesn’t hear the shakiness that’s suddenly overtaken your voice as that familiar panic starts to crawl up your throat. This wasn’t going to be good.

“’Hi.” The corners of Hotch’s lips quirk up, eyes softening, and what the fuck is going on. “Can I sit next to you?”

You swear you’re going to have a heart attack. This man cannot be healthy for you. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

And then he’s pulling out your chair for you.

And it’s not anything new—he pulls your chair out for you all the time, in the conference room, in his dining table when you made not-pizza rolls, and even at restaurants the afternoons after Jack’s soccer games. You’ve never thought anything of it, but tonight, after your impeccably timed realization, your brain feels like it’s going to implode.

He’s just being a gentleman, that’s all.

“Thank you,” you manage out, heat starting to come to your face. Before Hotch, no one’s ever pulled your chair out for you. It’s nice.

Hotch doesn’t say anything, because of course not, just scoots your chair in closer to the table before he takes his seat on your right.

And he’s sitting really fucking close to you.

Have you always sat this close to each other before? You must have at least once during those late nights in his office, poring over case file after case file.

Not only could you feel the heat of his body just from sitting next to him, but his arm kept brushing up against your bare one while he ate, because of course you had to sit on the left side of a left-handed person. Every brush of the sleek fabric of his green button-up against your bare arm sent shivers down your spine despite the summer air, making you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

His hand kept brushing against yours as you ate and your eyes are drawn to how large his hands are as he handles his fork and the thickness of his forearms, having had rolled up his sleeves earlier. If you searched closely, you could find scars scattered over them through the dusting of hair, undoubtedly from his time on the job.

You don’t realize you’re staring at his Rolex and the way it glints underneath the lights, until Hotch is suddenly leaning into you. “Are you okay?”

Jesus Christ, hearing that smooth voice speaking lowly in your ear, breath warm as it fans over your cheek, causes all of the air in your lungs to escape. Has his voice always been that smooth, attractive?

When you risk a glance at him, conversations around the table slowly fading into the background, his face is merely inches from yours. His brows are pinched in concern and lips are pressed into a flat line. There’s something dancing in his eyes that you couldn’t quite put a finger on.

You clear your throat. “Sorry, I think the wine is just getting to me.”

He chuckles low underneath his breath. “Good thing I’m driving.”

And then he’s knocking the back of his hand against yours, the briefest brush of skin that causes electricity to zing up your spine, and then he’s back to listening intently to Derek and Emily’s bickering over who cheated at the last game of charades.

At this point, you think Hotch is able to read your mind. Why else would he be touching you, be sweet on you, if not to torture you?

You try to wrack your brain through these past couple of months, trying to find whether Hotch touching his hand to yours has happened before or any other sign that he actually is attracted to you. You come up short.

You chalk it up to him loosening up from his whiskey. He’s already moved onto water, because he was your ride, after all, so maybe this was a fluke. A one-off.

But it’s not a one-off. In fact, you think you’ve honestly died and gone to Heaven after suddenly tripping and breaking your head open in the entryway after Derek spoke with you. If you didn’t know any better, you would think you were actually on a date with Hotch, sans the rest of the team.

He must have noticed your distracted mood, because he’s making sure you’re included in almost every table conversation by glancing at you and giving you a smile that has started to make something flutter in your stomach. He’s participating minimally like usual, content to listen, but whenever he has a comment or thought he wants to share, he’s leaning in and sharing it with you.

He's leaning in to top of your wine, reaching over the table to get more of those green beans you like, and once even knocking his knee against yours underneath the table when you looked especially lost in thought while staring at your plate.

And then when the team has moved into the living room for charades, Emily wanting payback against Derek, it somehow gets even worse.

You’re quick enough to be the first to volunteer to not play due to there being an odd number of players, thus requiring Hotch to play. Everyone cheers teasingly, because Hotch is always quick to volunteer himself out of games, content to watch.

You blame the copious glasses of wine you’ve consumed and the decadent filling dinner, warmth thrumming through your entire body, when you poke at Hotch’s considerably firm bicep. “Show us what you got, old man.”

There are resounding oohs and aahs from the rest of the team. Something fuzzy settles in your chest when Hotch rolls his eyes good-naturedly at you and stands up from where he had sat next to you on the couch to JJ’s team.

You continue to nurse your wine, pleasantly buzzed, as you are thoroughly entertained by your team’s antics. Emily and Rossi argue at least 3 times, Penelope gets significantly close to having a private meeting with HR, and Hotch continues to stare at you.

Or at least, you think he’s staring at you. The alcohol has started making you second guess things even more than you already were. Because for some reason, despite JJ sitting on the other side of the living room and being on a team with her, he moved to sit in the empty spot next to you after the first round.

He’s definitely participating in the game, even in second place behind Penelope and Derek, but you swear you feel his eyes on you now more than ever.

It’s distracting as you try to follow the game and guess along with everyone else. This time, the right side of him is nearly molded against your left side, pressing into you so hard that you’re starting to sweat from how much body heat he’s radiating.

When you glance at him to try and catch his eyes, he meets your gaze steadily. His hair is starting to come undone, a few strands falling against his forehead, and his dimple seems to have made a permanent appearance from how much he’s pretending not to laugh at his team’s antics.

It’s nice to see him enjoy himself—a flush rising up his neck and shoulders relaxed. Although you understand he has a certain image he maintains for his team, it’s become familiar to you.

By the time it dwindles close to midnight, there’s a chorus of yawns around the group. Penelope’s the first to call it, stumbling to grab a hold of Derek’s arm and dragging him with her out the door to drive her home, ruining your initial plans to catch a ride home with her instead of Hotch. After that, everyone starts to say their goodnights and exchanging hugs despite the chance you may get called on a case as early as tomorrow morning.

“You ready to go?” Hotch leans to whisper in your ear, his breath fanning over you again and causing heat to rise to your face.

“Absolutely,” you exhale, clutching the water bottle that Hotch retrieved for you in the middle of the game, hoping the breathiness in your voice could be blamed on how late it was.

When you get to Hotch’s car, heart full and warm after spending another wonderful evening with your makeshift family, he opens the passenger side door for you.

You think you’re going to lose your mind if he keeps this up. How are you supposed to stop having a crush on Hotch when he keeps doing things that justify that crush?

“Do you need to stop anywhere for anything? Are you hungry?”

You blame it on the wine despite the fact you’ve been drinking nothing but water for the past hour, thanks to Hotch silently getting you and only you a water. Your body and tongue feels loose, inhibitions naturally decreased, and it’s not your fault. It doesn’t matter if the soft lights of the driveway highlight the sharp angles of his face or the way his woodsy cologne has infiltrated your senses.

“Weird, you’re acting like my boyfriend or something.”

The silence that ensues is deafening. Your brain takes forever to catch up with you, but then you’re suddenly struck with humiliation and dread. You mind starts to race, as best as it could, when you realize that you may have just royally messed up the best job you’ve ever had and the best group of people you’ve ever met.

Before you can backtrack and say that you were just joking, Hotch carefully says “Do you want me to be?”

“What?” Wow, you really can’t hold your alcohol well, why did you drink so much wine?

And then Hotch is stepping closer, into your space, and you’d be worried that the rest of the team was going to see if the car door wasn’t shielding you from view from the front of the house. You get a whiff of whiskey on his breath again, but when you meet his eyes, there’s not a hint of the same full body dizziness you feel.

“Was I not being direct enough?” There’s amusement sparkling in his eyes, eyebrows raised. He looks like he’s politely trying to hide a fond smile. He’s teasing you.

This Hotch is the one you’ve grown to become familiar with over the past several months. Charming and unafraid to tease you when you’re away from prying eyes. Hotch is a private person, always has been, so it’s not a surprise that him essentially torturing you tonight was his version of being direct.

“You’ve been flirting with me?”

Hotch ducks his head bashfully to chuckle. It’s ridiculously endearing and you want to tug him closer and touch him all over. “I’ve been trying to flirt with you all month so I’m guessing I didn’t do a very good job.”

You stare at him as if he grew a second head, suddenly feeling much more sobered up than 5 minutes ago. Clarity sluggishly comes to you. The various invitations to spend the night or go out to dinner without Jack comes to mind. The touching had steadily increased, but you had assumed it was just due to Hotch getting more comfortable around you.

For a profiler, you weren’t very good at noticing what was happening right in front of you.

Hotch may be a ridiculously patient person, clearly since he’s been content to flirt with you for apparently a month while you didn’t notice, but you were not. You knew what you wanted. The wine still thrumming through your veins just gave you that little extra push.

You place your palms on his chest, relishing in the subtle firmness you can detect through his shirt, and you wonder if that’s his heart you feel thumping erratically or your own. “I promise I’m not that drunk and am fully aware of what is going on right now.”

Hotch hums and places his hands on your hips, the heat of him searing through the fabric of your dress. His eyes briefly flit to your mouth before back up at you. “I’m not sure if I believe you.”

Instead of providing a snarky response, and because you know Hotch wouldn’t make the first move since you did have some to drink, you finally lean in to close the distance between you two to kiss him.

It’s soft, chaste in a way that makes you feel pleasantly warm all over, the barest tendrils of electricity tugging at the pit of your stomach. The intensity of how much you like him, how much you adore him, nearly barrels you over, but Hotch’s grip on you tightens, steadying you. His lips only slightly move against yours, as if briefly testing the waters, but it does nothing to quell the sudden desire slowly twisting inside of you.

When he pulls back, chest only marginally heaving, you instinctively chase after him. He chuckles again, low and comforting, as his hands come up to hold you still by the shoulders. It shouldn’t feel as nice and soothing as it does. “I should take you home.”

“Are you coming with me?” You sincerely hope that Hotch doesn’t question you and your boldness tomorrow. Again, not entirely your fault.

“I’ll walk you to your door, how about that?” As if he already wasn’t going to do that.

On the drive back to your apartment, the tight ball of panic and uncertainty in your chest quickly unfurls and is replaced by affection, tenderness, and promises of the future. Hotch’s hand, large and protective, doesn’t leave your thigh the entire way home.

You make a mental note to send Derek a gift card and thank you note on Monday.

#posting this and immediately going 2 sleep gn #lovers1kevent #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #mine #criminal minds fic

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lucygraysboy · 2 days ago

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“yeah? thank you! i mean, that’s a very useful skill, you know? if you know how to knit, you can always knit yourself a sweater or a scarf or a blanket, and stay warm throughout winter and out on the prairie when the nights get cold,” the cowboy muses, not even trying to hide his excitement and straight up beaming at the kind songstress. he already knows she’s a great student, highly intelligent and curious, but he wonders what kind of teacher she is — patient and kind, is his bet, but it will be fun to swap places and see. “you’re bein’ way too sweet, lucy gray. that means a lot, comin’ from a girl as smart as yourself.” blushing when he realizes she remembers little details about him, his heart skipping a beat. how adorable is that? means she truly cares about him and listens to what he has to say. “you think so, too?” his features light up all at once, feeling as though they’re connected by some invisible string, sharing thoughts. not many people are fascinated by poems. not everyone can read to begin with, let alone understand the meaning of poetry. lucy gray is just so extraordinary. “oh, right! resistin’ arrest! one of my many talents. changin’ names, that’s another one,” he laughs, nodding in agreement, amusement brimming in his eyes. “well, first of all, i prefer the word strong-willed, sounds more like a compliment than an insult. but i was a very stubborn child, wouldn’t listen to no one but my ma. always bossed my little brother around, but that was just ‘cause i wanted to take care of him best i could.” mr. antrim couldn’t even dream of telling him what to do, stopped trying after a few attempts. “kind of, yeah. i like to get things done my own way, but… i would never try to boss you, lucy gray. you’re my partner, a lot smarter than me. i’ll listen to you.” god, he despises men who try to rule over women and vows to never become one of them.

“no, not yet.” the cowboy shakes his head, frowning briefly but the sound of lucy gray’s laugh is enough to have him smiling again. “but she could have, alright? bet she wanted to, just didn’t want to get on your bad side.” he explains awkwardly, looking over his shoulder and finding the goat still glaring at him menacingly. she hates him. maybe no amount of dandelions will change it. “i ain’t ever milkin’ her.” he’ll shovel horse shit for hours, but he won’t get anywhere near that grass-munching demon. his fingers curling around lucy gray’s, feeling safe enough to triumphantly stick his tongue out at shamus. “thank you for savin’ me.” running to the safety of the porch, billy can’t refrain from laughing, squeezing his friend’s hand and letting her be the hero while he’s clearly the damsel in distress. jesse would be laughing his ass off if he could see him now. “alright, that’s a lot of taters.” he picks up a small kitchen knife before taking the potatoes from her, he’s just waiting for her to grab some carrots, lingering in the threshold.

“oh, i’d love to.” that comes as a sweet, endearing little surprise that he wants to learn how to knit. voice chipper because she’d love to be his teacher in showing him how to knit, that’d be fun and he’d learn something knowledgeable. “i remember you sayin’ you liked poetry. people who like to read, are always people who are smart. and that proves it.” smiling widely, going around with a sense of pride for him for some reasoning. above getting in all this trouble, he seems to have his head on right. she’s always proud of people who seem down to earth and smart— mentally and emotionally. especially young fellows, since tender-hearted and smart ones doesn’t come often. “and that’s right, poems are a lot like that. i find it fascinatin’ you’ve pointed that out.” brunette tells him, endearment staying etched softly across her olive visage. “i can tell you’re stubborn in resistin’ arrest,” words amusingly spoken, “but i don’t know in what else.” he’s been pretty lenient with her, but she has only known him for two days now. “you’re sayin’ you’re bossy? well, you met your match, you won’t boss me. i’m bossi-er.” lucy gray playfully adds, clearly— with her deep stubbornness.

turning to check his reaction, it doesn’t fail to have her belly laughing, giggles pouring out of her. never going to get this image of what she sees out of her head now, the way he looks so panicked and then takes off so quick from the barn to come to her for safety. “what is it, darlin’? did she already get you on the rear end?” more laughter spilling over, hand reaching out to take hold of his. “i’ll save you, don’t worry.“ pulling him the rest of the way to the porch, running them to it like shamus is so terrifying. she’s just a tender soul, even though she could bite him— but lucy gray’s sure she’d have to feel provoked. laughing all the way into the house, she lets his hand go once she pushes open the screen door and leads them to the potato box in the kitchen. opening the lid, digging in, scooping out a few and placing some into his hands while her face still hurts with amusement after playing little goat tricks on him.

#billysgirllol #BIG BAD OUTLAW SCARED OF A LIL TRAUMATIZED GOAT #no but you know what's gonna break our hearts? when billy and shamus finally begin to form a bond and then he and lg will have to run #and leave her behind :((((

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leqonsluv3r · 23 hours ago

Note

hiii!! May i ask for a first date with Leon with a fem reader? Thanks!

bed chem

—re!4 leon kennedy x fem!reader

—a oneshot (request)

warnings: MDNI, 18+, some swearing, readers ex being a dick, leon charming it up on the first date, sweet but passionate seggsy time bc i say so, unprotected pnv, nicknames; baby, sweet girl, honey, heavy making out on the first date (it happens), reader being a horny mess over leon (relatable honestly), and a bunch of other shit.

“she had been weighing the pros and cons of doing this for the past three days. it was the nerves of getting back out there after being in a shitty relationship, that were getting to her. she wanted to move on from that. but still…was this the best idea? she couldn’t just forget about her ex? right? she needed to but something — maybe anxiety — was clawing at her guts. she sat in the restaurant again that they were supposed to meet at, a blind date of all things. she was never this…bold. never this much of a risk taker. but she needed this, she cant remember the last time she had — “is this seat taken?” she is snapped out of her thoughts as she looks up and sees the most handsome man she’s probably ever laid eyes on. her ex boyfriend didn’t even compare by a long shot. she looked at him like a gaped fish, “uhm…no…it’s not…” she blubbers out. she was in for it.”

— or reader meets leon on a blind date and thinks maybe her ex breaking up with her wasn’t such a bad thing

masterlist taglist prompt game

an: i’m sorry this took me so long to get up. hope this is what you had in mind, anon.🩷🩷

she didn’t think this was a good idea.

not in the slightest, she had been single for only three months. she wasn’t waiting to long right? no, she wasn’t. she could do this.

even if her gut was screaming at her to do something differently, to run out of this restaurant and away from her blind date that was setup.

she wanted to run.

she stared at her wineglass of water, taking a small sip of it. she sighs softly, looking at her phone. he was five minutes late. did she get stood up? did he see her then turn around and leave? she swallowed and tried to not jump to conclusions. that probably wasn’t the case.

she hated that she was back to square one, if only her ex hadn’t dumped her right before christmas. she felt like she was stuck, having dated her ex for two years, she felt so out of the game with flirting. she was just going on this date to humor her friends, they said she was moping, said she needed to stop eating ice cream in her sweats on friday nights.

she had to agree, she needed to start going on dates…but blind ones? set up by her friends? not the smartest idea.

but they had told her to trust them. so she was, even though she felt like her heart was beating out of her chest.

she couldn’t do this, she was going to get up and leave, go right back to her apartment and —

“is this seat taken?” she hears a voice drawl from behind her shoulder. she swallowed, her insides melting like jello just at the four simple words this man had uttered. she tries to find words as he quickly rounds the table and sits down opposite from her. it’s like her eyes and brain are working faster then her mouth is, taking him all in. he was so beautiful, so…god, she didn’t even have a word for what he was.

she finally found some words and opened her mouth, “uhh, your…uhh…” she takes a deep breath and tries again, “your my blind date?” she finds herself saying. it came out more quiet and feeble then she would’ve liked but in this mans presence she’s lucky she wasn’t a puddle on the floor already.

he nods with a small subtle quirk of his lips, “leon kennedy.” he says as he grabs the menu, his eyes scanning over her for a quick second then averting to the specials on the sheet in front of him. she ducked her head down to look at her own menu, trying to seem focused on it when in hindsight, she wanted to ask where the cameras were. she was obviously being pranked. right?

she looks up from her menu and chances a look at leon again, she smiles softly and nervously when he catches her stare. he puts his menu down slowly against the table and looks at her. “are you going to tell me your name?” he says with a small teasing brow raise. she chuckles softly, averting her eyes and then looking back at him before saying her name softly. he hums in acknowledgment, his lips quirking up again. “cute name.”

jesus, fuck the dinner. she could just jump his bones right now.

the waiter doesn’t giver her a chance though and comes by to take their orders for drinks and appetizers. leon looks back at her, his blue eyes burning deeply into her soul as if trying to read her from across the table. “so why are you not on the dating apps?” is the first question he asks her. she blinks at him dumbly for a moment, trying to process his question. “uhm…i just got out of a relationship in december. i didn’t really feel like joining when all guys on there are all looking for the same thing.” she manages to say with a surprisingly confident tone.

he nods slowly as if understanding, “i get it.’ he says as he sips on his own glass of water. “so your not like a commitment-phobe or anything?” he says as he looks at her, folding his hands on the table. she chuckles and shakes her head, her eyes briefly darting down to his hands on the table and then back up to him. “no, i’m the opposite. me and my ex were together for two years.”

he shakes his head, “must’ve been an idiot to let someone as beautiful as you go.”

she feels her cheeks heat up a little under the dim lighting of the restaurant, “he just…wasn’t feeling it anymore.” she says with a small nervous smile, “it happens.” he scoffs and his blue eyes darken for a second. “if he was really for you, sweetheart, trust me. he wouldn’t just stop feeling it.” he says with a small grimace. almost looking in pain for her, like he hated what he was hearing.

“why are you on a blind date then?” she says softly to him, trying to desperately change the subject. he sighs and leans back in his chair a little, looking at her, “i’m sick of bouncing around.” he says as he looks at her, his tone less teasing and more serious. “going from girl to girl…its not what i want. im not happy that way.” he says with a small glance at her.

she nods slowly in understanding as he talked, acknowledging his words. the waiter came and sat their drinks down in front of them, putting a brief pause on the conversation. his drink — a whiskey on the rocks, hers — a simple dr pepper. he notices the lack of alcohol but decides to wait until the waiter is done taking their orders. once, the waiter walks away, he nods towards her soda, “a dr pepper? no alcohol?” he says with another raise of his eyebrow.

“i doin’t like drinking on the first date.” she says as she looks at him then his drink, “you obviously don’t mind that.” her tone and edge of sarcasm as she sips on her drink pepper again. he chuckles lowly and shakes his head, his ash blonde hair moving with him, “giving me shit now for my drink choice?”

“yeah, you gave me shit for mine. don’t think i didn’t notice.” she says as she sits back a little in her own seat across from him, crossing her legs beneath the table.

they continue talking for hours, eating their food and sipping on their drinks as they talk. this was going better then she had planned, learning more about leon then she intended. he didn’t seem like the talkative type but when they started discussing jobs, past pets, family, really anything. he seemed to open up and tell her pretty much whatever she wanted to know.

after they finished eating, she went to order dessert but he stopped her. “i have dessert at my place.’” which made her stop, the rush of butterflies and nerves at his words was enough to make her nod, close the dessert menu and request the check.

which he paid, in full, with…a platinum credit card.

she knew he was working for the government but jesus, he just whipped out the platinum to pay for their meal. she felt measly with her silly little plastic card in her purse, letting him escort her out the restaurant. they walked down the sidewalk until they get to a sleek black escalade. “did you drive here?” he says as he digs his keys out of his jacket pocket. she looks at him and then the car, “yeah, i did.”

“how about…at the risk of sounding too forward, you come home with me? stay the night, you can take the bed if you want and…i’ll drop out back off at your car in the morning?” he says with a small tilt of his head, his blondish hair flopping by his ear as she looks at him. a small smile graced his features, she let out a small breath, turning the thoughts of potentially doing this in her head.

she nodded with a small smile on her face, “i would love too.”

he nods towards the escalade, “cmon,” he unlocks the escalade and opens the passenger door for her. she hesitantly moves forward and slides into the passenger seat, looking around the interior of the car. she was in awe, shed never been in a car this…big before. also, it made her wonder.

leon wasn’t flaunting his wealth, he didn’t even seem to mind that he was somewhat wealthy. it made her have even more questions about him. they didn’t seem to end the more she spent time with him. was he not aware of how fortunate he was?

she was torn away from her thoughts when leon got into the drivers side of the car. looking over at her with a small smirk, “what?”

“you drive an escalade.” she states with a small blink, he shrugs and chuckles a little, almost finding it humorous. “so?”

he doesn’t realize this does he? good god, he’s a humble guy. why is that such a fucking turn on?

“it’s just…the escalade, the platinum card…?” she says with a small blubber as she looks at him, “your rich.” she states with little to no care for how it sounded. he chuckles and shakes his head, “yeah? im not too bad, i’ve got money.” he says with a small flush of his cheeks as he puts the keys in the ignition. she rolls her eyes, of course he’s not going to admit it.

he starts the car, carefully pulling out of the parking spot. she swallows as she watches his hands from the passenger seat, the way his large hands encompass the steering wheel and turn it. she’s watching, almost drooling at how his veins in his hands. she sees him look over at her and she quickly darts her eyes away from basically eye-fucking his hands.

they were just…fuck, the things she would let those hands do to her.

he smirks in her peripheral vision, sliding one of his hands over the console and to the exposed knee of her dress, slowly squeezing it. she swallows, the touch was somewhat innocent but causing a herd of butterflies to swarm her stomach. she felt her underwear get uncomfortable already. she lets out a small shaky exhale, trying to act nonchalant.

she was so fucked.

she surprisingly made it back to his apartment in one piece. he was acting like a gentleman, even with his hand on her knee, keeping a steady hold on it as he drove. he didn’t raise his hand higher, a part of her wished he would’ve.

but he kept it on her knee, his whole hand practically engulfed that skin on her leg. she watched him drive out of the corner of her eye, studying him like a painting.

he was so gorgeous, even in the dim light of the streetlights. she was fully focused on him, his eyelashes, the way his eyes carefully and precisely watched the road.

the way he kept his lips — pink and full — pressed together as he studied every other car around them. he wasn’t afraid, he was focused. she wondered if he always focused on things like this, or if he was just like this when he drove.

but his attention seemed divided, one hand on her leg, his thumb even moving in small circles on her knee. she didn’t know how he did it all at once, all with ease. it was like he was handcrafted by some god, some amazing grace. she just couldn’t figure him out.

but it intrigued her.

even when he made it to his apartment, parking outside the building and pulling the keys out of the escalades ignition.

he moved with such precision and confidence, like he knew his next move before he made it. like he had a plan for every step he took. she wishes that she had that grace about her, she was clumsy and not put together at all.

but when they get out of the car, making their way to the doors of the lobby, he was holding onto her hand tightly. his hand engulfing hers as they walked. she liked the way his hand fit into hers, like it belonged that way. like it was meant to hold hers. she tries to fight the butterflies and the very obvious tension as they make their way to the elevator in the lobby.

once the elevator dings and they make their way into the elevator, she feels hotter, like the sexual tension of what’s to come is taking up all the air. she squeezes his hand a little, she feels his blue irises travel to her and stay there. he must’ve lived on the top floor, because they stood there for a moment. his free hand traveling up to her hair, pushing it away from her face.

“there’s those beautiful eyes.” he whispers, it sounded like he was saying it more to himself rather then her. her cheeks flushed all the same, connecting her own with his, a small smile sliding onto her lips. “i have beautiful eyes?” she whispers to him, almost afraid to break the spell, the tension that was slowly building as they got closer to his apartment.

he smirks slowly to himself, saying a little louder, “your eyes aren’t the only beautiful thing about you.” he says as he pushes more hair away from her face with his free hand, sliding his hand into her hair and holding it there. a small breath leaving her lips, letting them part as she looked up at him from under her eyelashes. this man was something else, making her act out on the first date. which she never did.

“look at you,” he whispers, “such a good girl, you look so pretty.” he praises lowly, still holding her hair at the base of her skull in a tight fist. he was forcing her to look up at him, she didn’t even hate how her underwear flooded with need for him — for his hands. she just accepts the praise with a small embarrassed smile. she didn’t know how else to react, no guy had ever praised her so openly, called her beautiful.

her ex, he took her out on dates and the sex wasn’t too bad. but he never showed her off, loved her openly, made her feel special. that was the ultimate lead up to him leaving her for some girl he didn’t even know.

and it broke her, she never thought she’d feel that way again.

but here, with leon, she felt that familiar want. that need to be his and his only.

and god, was it terrifying. he was such a good guy, so attractive. she was so afraid that she’d screw it up in some way.

but it’s better to say she tried and failed rather then give up altogether.

the elevator dinger for his floor, pulling her out of her thoughts and snapping her eyes back up to his. she felt his h=free hand slowly leave her hair and his hand with hers, pulling on it towards the hallway outside the elevator. her stomach was a mess of knots and nerves as she followed him. her eyes taking in the surroundings around her, letting him practically drag her to his apartment.

and as soon as she was inside of his apartment, his lips were on hers and she was getting pushed up against a door. the first thing she registers is how amazing his lips are and how they feel against hers. she feels like her legs are going to give out under her, her lips meld with his. everything is happening so fast and her brain doesn’t have time to catch up to all of it.

before she knows it, he’s carrying her into his apartment, kissing every inch of her neck and jaw with his tongue and teeth. she lets out small sounds as he kisses her in spots that haven’t been touched in months. he puts her down onto the bed, hovering over her as his blue eyes meet hers. he looks so haunting in the moonlight. his sharp jawline and features, the way his cheekbones reflect in the moonlight thats streaming through the window.

“i normally don’t do this on the first date but your just…” he runs his fingers over the side of her thigh, making her dress pool up to her hips, “so fucking beautiful.” he whispers between them, like its a secret. she feels her cheeks flush nonetheless. she feels his hand slide up her thigh to the edge of her underwear, lace that she put on and didn’t even anticipate this happening. she feels her breath quicken and her spine straighten under his touch.

he’s so methodical with his movements and it makes her think, the contrast difference between her ex and him. he’s so gentle, like she’s made of glass beneath his fingertips. her ex never had that, rough and demanding movements. she draws the difference as leon’s fingers slowly pull the lacy fabric down her thighs. she keeps wondering why his fingers and hands seem so calloused, she should have asked earlier at dinner, not when he’s exposing her to the cool air of his bedroom.

she exhales as her lacy underwear are tossed to the floor, suddenly his jacket is coming off and he’s rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. she can only let her eyes trace the way his biceps are practically straining underneath the confines of his dress shirt, the way they flex when he grabs her ankles and drags her to the end of his bed. she feels her heart beat almost entirely out of her chest.

she can’t help it, she’s a soaking mess by now and the fact he can see that by looking in between her thighs is enough to make her cheeks heat up. she closes her thighs, pressing them together. he chuckles low in his throat as he looks down at her, “don’t hide from me. cmon.” he says as his blue eyes seem to darken under the harsh moonlight coming into his bedroom.

he gently opens her thighs, letting himself glance at her glistening arousal. “so wet already?” he says it as if its more of a statement, rather than a question. she nods under his gaze as if he has all the power over her right now and in a way, he does. and he knows it. “this all for me?” he says with an almost haunting smirk on his features that it causes her to sharply inhale. she nods again and feels her chest rise and fall beneath her dress.

“your boosting my ego too much, baby.” he says as he crawls over her, his hands bracing on either side of her head, he leans down so he’s nose to nose with her. his blue eyes almost blown out with lust for her, she recalls never being looked at this way by her ex. even when they had sex, he refused the intimate side and made her go face down in the pillows. but leon, he’s devouring her with his eyes right now and it almost makes her cry, but she doesn’t.

“what’s wrong? did i do something wrong?” he asks when he sees her eyes become glassy, surely he knows. he has a feeling that he maybe rushed it. should’ve let you go home after the date but…you looked sad. he cups her chin, looking down into her eyes. that action seems to make it harder for her to speak but she forces words out of her mouth. “my ex…he never…” she swallows more tears down her throat.

he watches her expression so closely — so methodically — that he’s afraid if he blinks, he’ll miss something. but he lets her speak, his hand slowly cupping her cheek, rubbing his thumb over cheek in a soothing gesture. even though he’s hard as steel right now and her pussy is out in the open, he is solely focused on how she feels right now. she notes in her brain that this is another reason why she likes leon so much already.

but she forces herself to finish her thoughts, “my ex never…he never…” she chokes on the words again. she realizes that it sounds stupid coming out of her mouth now, she almost wants to push it to the side and jump leon’s bones. but he’s not going to let it go until he knows she’s okay. “he never looked me in the eye, never…he wasn’t gentle.” she whispers as she looks up at him. she feels choked up and she hates how silly she sounds. like a hurt little girl who skinned her knee.

he sighs softly against her lips and brushes some tears from the crevice of her eye. he understands what she’s saying, her ex wasn’t intimate. didn’t take his time with her, didn’t put her needs first and that just doesn’t sit right with him one bit. in fact, it bothers him beyond recognition. how could someone just abandon their partners needs, the need to be validated and be intimate? he couldn’t change that for her but he could show her that he wasn’t like her exes.

“im not like that, princess. you know that by now don’t you?” he whispers against her lips as he gently brushes some hair out of her face. she nods almost immediately, “i know.” she says against his lips, solidifying that she knows. he could not even be compared to her ex, not even close. leon was far better than him and she’s only known leon for like five hours.

“good. now, im going to fuck you now. but listen,” he gently grabs her chin, a firm but soft hold as he angles her eyes to his. “i am going to take my time with you because you deserve that. you deserve to be loved and cherished.” he says softly with a small hint of compassion in his blue irises as he strokes his hand up and down her dress clad side. “and i am not going to let you look away, your going to look at me the entire time.” he says with a firm but rugged gentleness that suited him down to his very core.

she just nods slowly in his grip, that being the only thing she can do with his grip on her chin. he smiles — a little twitch of his lips — making him seem ten times more softer then he actually is. he leans back on the bed on his knees, looking down at her. “off.” he gestures to the dress thats still covering her. she swallows and sits up on his bed, slowly and methodically shimming the dress off of her frame.

once it’s gone and on the floor with her discarded lace underwear, she plays with the strap on her matching bra. he puts his large and calloused hand over hers, stopping her. “let me.” he mutters as he moved on his bed behind her, his fingers slowly tracing along her shoulder and going to the bra strap. he hovers his mouth over neck, his other hand brushing her hair away from her back, pressing his lips to her neck with such delicacy. she feels like she would miss it if she couldn’t feel his fingers slide down to the clasp of her lacy bra.

and once it’s discarded, he finds himself hoisting her backwards onto the mattress again. his lips finding hers in a sweet but delicate kiss that says — i have you, trust me. and she does, she finds herself trusting him as his hands hold her gently but firmly, a strong hold that weighs on her heart and mind.

she looks up at him through lustful eyes two moments later, her gaze locking on his as he strips off his pants and shirt, discarding them all on the floor. the body of a greek god, yet littered with small scars that catch in the moonlight. she thinks that maybe he has his own demons, the ones that haunt him when he goes to bed at night.

but she doesn’t have time to wonder, his cock, if not perfect like the rest of him. is now out, his hand slowly stroking the hard shaft for some semblance of relief. she gnaws on her bottom lip as she watches him, she was completely and utterly soaked now.

she didn’t know how much longer she could last. she needed him.

he didn’t wait long to lean over her body, his elbows on either side of her head, much like before. his nose brushing against hers and she was bare as him. it should’ve made her nervous, made her scared beyond anything. but she didn’t have it in her to be scared, not when he was eyeing her like she was the holy grail.

he pressed another kiss to her lips, a little more rough this time, his tongue prodding at her mouth. begging for him to be let in. and how could she not oblige him? she let him in and he swirled his tongue with hers, her brain on autopilot and the conversation about her ex was long gone. the furthest thing from her mind at this point.

it was just him. his mouth and hers, the way his cock barely brushed against her soaked folds. she parted her knees more for him, accommodating his wide frame as he let a hand drift down to her hip, squeezing it as they sloppy made out.

a small moan slipped past her lips and onto his, his large hand kneading the extra fat of her hip and thigh and slowly he moved his hand in between them, brushing over her clit slowly. her breath caught a little and she couldn’t find words, she was wrecked already.

he chuckled lowly against her lips, words not exchanged as he guided his bulbous tip though her folds. soaking his tip in her release and making her tremble, small squeaks of arousal leaving her parted lips.

he found it amusing, if the expression on his face was any indication.

he silenced her again with a smooth press of hiss lips against her’s, soothing her worries and the small amount of anticipation she felt. he slipped just the tip inside of her, breaching her entrance. she gasped against his lips, he was big. it was just the tip and she was keening. practically clawing at his bare back. he pressed his lips more firmly against hers, sliding in another inch, his thumb rubbing circles at her hip.

as he eased in inch by inch, she tried to focus on his kisses rather then how much he was stuffing her full inch by torturous inch. it felt like her body was buzzing, it was too much and not enough at the same time. she moaned softly when he slid in the rest of the way, she opened her mouth against his. she couldn’t handle it anymore. she lets out a shaky breath.

her hands held tighter to his back as he slowly moved his hips against hers. his hand squeezing hard at her hip enough to bruise but she couldn’t find it in herself to care as he slowly moved his hips, moving in and out of her. she bit on her bottom lip, almost drawing blood as his head dipped into her neck. she choked on moan after moan as he groaned and grunted against her neck, matching her noises in his own ways.

she let her nails sink into his back as he pumped his hips a little faster. her head fell back against his sheets, her lips parted, eyes shutting in ecstasy as he started hitting that spot within her repeatedly. she wasn’t going to last long if he kept it up, his harsh groans and breaths echoing along her neck and up into her ear. his lips pressing harshly to the skin. every time her nails dug into his bare back, he bit a little at her skin.

the pleasure and pain was intoxicating as he kept moving his hips, making her whimper and whine. she tried to speak but her words were caught and mumbles of pleasure were the only things to leave her parted lips. her expression wiped and dazed with lust as she took everything he gave her. never in her life had she felt this way with sex. she felt like she was floating and grounded at the same time.

she felt her stomach coil, knowing she was close to climax. she wordlessly moved one of her hands from his back into his dirty blonde locks, pulling his head out of her neck and pressing her lips to his. he just smirked against her lips and moved his hips a little faster, seeming to understand what she meant without words. she moaned louder against his lips as he pumped faster and faster, her head felt dizzy. her head dropped back against his sheets again, not enough energy to keep her lips locked with his.

“thats it baby, come for me. c’mon.” he growls as he nips at her neck, his hand sliding from her hip to her clit. rubbing it with small brushes of his thumb, she squeaked as she looked up at the ceiling. her eyes glazed over as the coil in her belly finally snapped. “fuck, your…squeezing me like a vice.” he muttered in a groan. he felt her spasm around him, his hips slowing as he fucked her through it.

he fucked her through it until she was squirming, he moved his hand off her clit. determined to chase his own release as he moved his hips again. he pressed his chest against hers and gripped her hip again. she let out a shaky gasp as he started moving again. her eyes watering at the overstimulation she was feeling in the moment. “shh, its…i’m close, baby. just hang on.” he grunts against her collarbones as he keeps moving his hips. she squeezed him a little again and he hissed.

she nods with a small whine as he pumps a little faster, practically shaking his bed. she was wondering if it was going to break but it didn’t seem like it would. his hips stuttering as he bit into her collarbone, she gasped in pleasure as she felt his spend fill her up and fill her belly. she blinked at the ceiling as he sighed against her collarbone. letting himself be vulnerable for a moment in the aftermath of their bliss. he just kept her filled with his cock, rubbing a hand up and down her side. his mouth gently pressing a kiss to one of her breasts. “your amazing.” he whispers as his eyes shut and he breathes some air into his lungs.

she felt his words deep down to her very soul as he pulled out of her, a small noise of loss as he removed himself from her snug walls. he laid down on his side next to her, sliding a hand down her stomach and to her entrance again. his spend mixed with hers was leaking out of her abused hole, his finger scooped up the fluid and pushed it back inside of her.

his eyes flaring with that possessive nature. he drifts his blue eyes to her blissed out face. he removes his finger from her entrance and traces it up to her jaw. he gently cups her chin and smoothes his thumb over her bottom lip. “good?” he whispers gruffly as he scans her expression. she smiles dazedly and nods as she looks up at him. it wasn’t how she imagined the night going but getting to here, it was good. leon unintentionally was making her move on from the slump her ex put her in. she couldn’t be more grateful.

he smiles crookedly, almost shyly, as if he didn’t just fuck her raw into his mattress.

“stay the night. i make good breakfast.” he says softly with a small chuckle, the boyish charm peeking out from his hard facade he had up. she nods with a small giddy smile, “only if you make me pancakes.” she whispers as her eyes stay locked on his blue ones. he was truly a sight to behold. every part of him was and she didn’t know how he could be single. she had to wonder if maybe he chose that for himself, for what reason? she didn’t know. he was a great guy.

an amazing kisser. funny, great in bed. the list kept going.

but he was nothing like her ex, that was the best thing about him. he wasn’t selfish, conceded and rude. maybe leon was the perfect one for her. maybe he wasn’t but she was trusting her gut this time. and her gut was telling her to stay, to let herself be coddled and be held like something precious. she was letting herself be happy for once and only time would tell if they were meant to be.

even if it was the first date, she was in love. silly, but true as she gently cupped his cheek and pulled his lips to hers again. she felt connected to him in more ways then one. she was diving headfirst into him and she didn’t even care. she was happy.

and thats all that truly mattered.

screw it only being the first date, she was his now. and that was a comforting thought as she slipped her arms around him again and breathed him in. this is what love was, or close to it, she was sure. his arms already felt like home, no matter how dangerous that was, it was hers.

and his, as it should be. forevermore. wrapped in each other, no matter what.

exes be damned.

taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @adollrable @leonkennedygvrl @squazmine @spfoah @jmivenus @rcttendolly @yakamozhoez (if you would like to join my taglist, visit the link at the beginning or the one linked on my blog!)

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ficsbyrike · 3 days ago

Text

Your Possessiveness Will be the Death of Me

pairing: caleb x reader

TW: graphic descriptions of blood and injuries, toxic relationships

Summery: caleb won’t let you go to the hospital

Word count: 3,833

Notes: I promised someone that my next Caleb fanfic would be fluff but apparently I am incapable of writing anything happy 😭😭 might be a little ooc

A wanderer. Claws. The stinging feeling on your abdomen. The rest was a blur.

The city had recently become more dangerous with an increase of wanderer sightings. You thought—foolishly—that because of your hunter training, this wouldn’t affect you in any significant way. More on site work, perhaps, but nothing more than a minor inconvenience. It never occurred to you that you could become a victim of a wanderer yourself.

You had been walking down the street when out of nowhere, in a cruel sneak attack, a wanderer had jumped out and ambushed you. Rendered defenseless for a few moments, it was able to leave a pretty nasty gash on your abdomen before it was promptly dealt with.

It stung badly.

It felt as if the sky was very low. It was cold as shit out. You could see your hot breath rise up in puffs of white through the inky black sky, and as if the universe conspired to spite you even more, it had begun snowing.

Your blood glistened brightly in the neon lights of the city.

It was around 2:30 in the morning. You have to be up early tomorrow. God…

You raked your brain for a moment. The warm blood seeping between your fingers made it hard to focus.

Linkon Hospital was too far away for you to walk to without collapsing half way through. And, in some cruel joke, your phone had been smashed on the pavement while you were fighting the wanderer so there was no way you could call anyone for help.

You only had one option. But it was your last resort.

Caleb lived close by, but he didn’t want to see you. It wasn’t just a hunch or a feeling, you knew. Although he didn’t outright say it, you ended on pretty bad terms last time you saw each other. Regrettable words were thrown, tears were shed. Even though Caleb tried to explain himself—why he left, why he lied about being dead—you called the conversation there, saying you weren’t in the mood to fight anymore. Since then, Caleb has sent you countless text messages in hopes of staying in touch. At first, he would apologize continuously. Then, when he perhaps realized that his attempts were futile, he resorted to simply sending short messages about how his day went, what interesting things he saw today, and good morning good night texts. You pridefully ignored all of the messages. They angered you, even. You felt as if he was trying to guilt you into forgiving him by using his status as a long-time best friend and pretending like nothing was wrong.

He knows what he did. And you couldn’t forgive him that easily.

With those thoughts in mind, you promptly blocked his number until further notice. Although sometimes you wondered whether he was still sending you messages despite knowing they weren’t getting through to you.

If you showed up at his door now, would he turn you away? Even if he was angry at you, he wouldn’t turn away a shivering, injured woman. Right? But even if he didn’t, it would be so awkward to confront the issue with him again. Perhaps you just won’t say anything unless he brings it up himself. Still, he could simply shut the door in your face and leave you on the street. And he had every right to do so, with the way you’ve been treating him. You probably would have done the same in his situation. Probably.

Swallowing your last bit of pride, you began shuffling over to Caleb’s residence, your hand pressed tightly against the fresh wound. He had sent you his new address during one of his routinely text messages, and you had unconsciously memorized it because it was a part of town you always passed by to get to the train station.

With every step you took, you felt pressure in your wound. It would open up again and again and fresh blood would seep in between your fingers. This only made you more antsy and you felt your heart speed up.

After what felt like an excruciatingly long walk, you finally stood at the front door of Caleb’s house. It was cute. A townhouse surrounded by similar looking buildings in the middle of the city. Even though the others had distinctions about them—flower beds hanging out windows, chairs and fairy lights dotting the balconies—Caleb’s house was the one with the least character. It stood there, gray with no lights in any of the windows, as if he had only just moved in a few days ago.

You brought your hand up to knock on the door, but then you hesitated. You were angry at him, but that was fine because you knew that sooner or later you would forgive him. But you couldn’t have the same assurance that he would forgive you.

You shook your head, eracing the image of Caleb’s darkened eyes from your mind, and knocked.

Whatever happens happens.

For a few moments, there was silence. It would only be natural if he had gone to sleep, considering the deep hours of the night. But then, to your surprise, you heard the noise of shuffling coming from the inside, followed by another short silence. Just as you thought that he was ignoring you, the door swung open, revealing Caleb’s tall frame in the doorway.

He was a bit paler since the last time you saw him. And a bit thinner too. You guessed it was just in your nature to worry about him, as you had done so many times in the past.

It was still cold as shit out. Your thin hunter uniform is doing little to protect you from the chilly air. But somehow, your skin still felt hot. Snowflakes still slowly glided down into your hair.

You cleared your throat, “Caleb.”

Just as the words had left your mouth, you wished for the earth below you to open up and swallow you whole. You come to his front door in the middle of the night looking like hell—exhausted, dirty, blood pouring out of your side and your nose—and the only word you can manage is his name? Were you stupid?

You scanned Caleb’s eyes for any emotions. Was he angry? Or at least disappointed in you?

He didn’t speak for a moment, his gaze falling onto your wound. You shifted self consciously.

“What happened to you?”

His question caught you off guard, prompting you to look up at him again.

“I got into a fight.”

“Yeah, I can tell. You look like shit,” he said, and you sighed.

Surely this was the same Caleb you knew. He wouldn’t just leave you out here.

“Does it hurt?” He asks.

You swiftly shake your head.

“It's minor. I’m not crippled. I’ll live,” you lie through your teeth, “can I crash at your place? I’ll be out of your hair by morning. It’s really cold out here.”

You dragged your one of your hands against the bottom of your nose, smudging the blood pooling there.

Caleb stepped aside, a familiar smirk decorating his face, “be my guest.”

***

Caleb’s residence was just as barren inside as it was outside. Only the bare necessities scattered his living room. But it was warm.

You tried taking off your shoes, but with your wound, it was a little hard to do. Once Caleb saw you struggling, he quickly leaned down and helped you.

“Thanks. Do you by chance have any disinfectant? And some gauze?”

“I thought you said it didn’t hurt.”

“No. It seriously doesn’t.”

“Don’t lie to me missy. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Go sit on the couch.”

You did as he commanded, stumbling over to the couch before sitting down. Momentarily, there was the sound of running water and soon enough, Caleb came back with a clean, wet towel. He tried to gently lift up your shirt, but your hand stopped him.

“I’m fine. Really. Can I sleep on your couch? I’m really tired.”

Caleb’s worried eyes met yours, “you are not fine. You’re bleeding all over my floor. Stop being so stubborn and work with me here, yeah?”

He spoke in that same friendly voice, but it was obvious that there was concern in his expression.

You gently let go of his wrist with some hesitation, biting your bottom lip as he pulled your shirt over your head, discarding it somewhere on the couch next to him. Your wound was now completely exposed, along with your bare stomach. You knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, but just having the wound out in the open was enough to put you on edge.

He inspected your injury. His brow furrowed before he brought the damp towel to your skin. You hissed and recoiled slightly. Caleb flinched, but held the towel gently in place.

“Sorry pipsqueak. It’s gonna hurt no matter what. Just… squeeze my arm if it gets too much.”

You didn’t say anything.

Caleb’s touch was warm. You felt his soft fingers on the tender skin of your side. It almost made you shiver.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? Any later, and you would’ve bled out on the goddamn street,” he murmurs, and for a moment, you didn't know how to reply.

“My phone broke,” You say dumbly.

Then there was silence for a few moments. It was quiet. The only sound was his steady breathing and the clock ticking as the seconds slipped by.

“Are you angry?” You ask when he didn’t say anything.

Caleb shook his head, “no. You have every right to want to avoid me,” he sighed, “I just wish I wasn’t your last option.”

Silence again. Tik-tok… tik-tok…

“I thought you might turn me away,” you finally admitted.

“You know I wouldn’t let you bleed out on my doorstep. No matter how angry I get at you.”

“No, I don’t know that,” you whisper, “I feel like I don’t really know you anymore…”

Caleb finally looks up at you, a hint of hurt betrayed in his eyes, “Do you think… you think I changed that much?”

“I don’t know. But the Caleb I knew would never pretend to be dead for a whole year, leaving me by myself. So, yeah… I guess I don’t really know you anymore.”

“You had other people to turn to for help.”

“Sure. But in the end, who’s taking care of me?”

Caleb sighs again and turns back to your wound. Although he is trying to seem preoccupied, you can tell that he has a lot on his mind.

“We’ll continue this conversation later,” he finally says, “for now, let’s take care of your wound, yeah? The bleeding hasn’t stopped yet. I’ll need some water to wipe you down and see how deep your injury really is. Let me take you to the bathroom. It’ll be easier to do this there.”

Caleb helps you up. Then, he helps you walk over to the bathroom, his arm wrapped around your upper torso firmly but gently. Then, when he’s sure that you are able to stand upright on your own, he meticulously picks out the temperature of the water, making sure it’s not too hot or too cold.

He soaks the towel under the thin stream of water. Your old blood dyes the sink red, leaving a gruesome sight.

You feel dizzy from the blood loss. And slightly sleepy too. You grab onto the edge of the skin in an attempt to pull yourself together. The dim, buzzing light and the splashing of water continuously lull you to sleep.

Finally, when Caleb decided that he got most of the blood out from the towel, he wrings it, and brings it up to your wound again.

You take a sharp breath, colorful curses spilling out of your mouth unchecked, “haah… Caleb…”

He gently wipes away at the edges of the wound, trying hard to be as tender as possible. Despite this, he cleans up your wound with practiced efficiency leaving you to wonder how many times he has patched himself up during dark nights like these.

“You’re doing well,” Caleb says, running the towel under clean water again.

The cycle repeats a few times. By the time Caleb deems that he had cleaned the wound thoroughly enough, you are standing there, subtly trembling in pain. The sink, the floor, and both yours and Caleb’s hands are covered in your blood. You hope that it looks worse than it actually is.

“How is it?” You ask finally.

Caleb rustles through one of the storage compartments, and takes out fresh white gauze. However, your blood on his hands stains it as soon as he touches the bandages.

“It’s pretty deep. You’ll need to take it easy for a while,” he says.

Gritting your teeth as he wraps the gauze around your abdomen, you hold your breath.

“Relax,” Caleb utters, “the worst part is over.”

He wraps the gauze around you a few more times before securing it with a little bow at the end.

“There. Good as new.”

He lets out a sharp sigh, dusting his hands off like a mechanic, and straightens out to look at you again.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. But I’m worried. Should I go to the hospital?”

“No need. I’m here to take care of you, right?”

You nod.

You didn’t know what came over you then, but your body acted faster than you could think. You placed your hands on either side of his face and planted a small kiss on the edge of his lips.

He seemed stunned for a minute.

“You know I missed you, right?” You whisper, your fingers gently running through his raven hair.

“I thought you hated me,” he breaths.

“I do. But I can do both at the same time. These two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“I missed you too.”

“I hope you never leave again. Because I won’t forgive you a second time.”

Caleb’s eyes flicker before he leans in closer and presses a firm kiss to your lips.

God, it was as if you were made for each other.

All of these years of yearning to the most recent worries that plagued your mind came bubbling up to the surface until they finally exploded like a volcano.

He wraps his arms around you. The need for him to be closer to you became stronger, to the point where it was almost animalistic. Your exhales became his inhales as he pushed you up against the skin, deepening the kiss. Your fingers tangled within his hair, and his hands slowly mapped out the bare skin of your back. You couldn’t help but shiver.

You hated him so much. But God… it was impossible to stay away. You were drawn to him like a moth to a flame, knowing that nothing good was going to come out of this. Maybe he would hurt you again. Maybe you were stupid to come running back to him at the first sign of affection. But that didn’t matter at this moment. Right now, you only knew him. He was your world. And you were his.

“Wait, wait. Caleb,” you gasp suddenly, “fuck.”

Caleb immediately steps back as if he was burned.

“What’s wrong?”

You look down at your wound. It was still bleeding. A faint dark red color peaked out from behind the bandages, a signal to it probably opening up again.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s okay. It’s very late. We’re both not in our right mind,” you say, heart still hammering in your chest.

Caleb hesitantly nodded. His face and t-shirt was smudged with the blood that undoubtedly came from your hands.

“Maybe I should go to the hospital,” you say again.

A dull throb pulsed over where your wound was, and although you trust that Caleb did a good job of cleaning it, you knew that he wasn’t a medical professional. Maybe you needed stitches. It would be a shame if you bled out in Caleb’s apartment for no reason other than your own carelessness.

“Damn it,” He curses, “I should’ve been more careful, you’ll bleed through these bandages too.” Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re probably right, but I’ll be honest, I’m not really comfortable with letting you out of my sight just yet. I just… just let me try to add a few more layers of gauze, yeah? And if that doesn’t work, we’ll figure things out from there.”

Caleb takes out more gauze and wraps it around your lower torso again, a bit more tighter this time. He steps back to inspect how much of the gauze has already been bled through, his brow furrowing.

“Damn it…” he mutters.

You put your hand on his arm to stop his continuous fidgeting, “Caleb. Calm down.”

“You’re right. No… I just… You’re bleeding. How are you still bleeding? I’ve never seen you be this chill about an injury before. You remember when you were learning how to ride a bike when we were kids? You would cry so hard when you so much as scraped your knee against the pavement and would run to grandma so she could comfort you.”

“I remember. You were not the best teacher. It’s a miracle I haven’t gotten my front teeth knocked out.”

“You were sensitive as a kid.”

“I grew out of it.”

“Apparently.”

There was another pause. It seemed that every time you and Caleb found a common ground, there was something that would always bring you back and remind you that everything had changed. He was not the reckless little boy from your childhood that you remember. And, in turn, you were not the sensitive little girl that he remembers.

When did everything become so different?

Caleb’s apartment suddenly became cold again.

Caleb shook his head before speaking, “never mind. Have you had dinner? Are you hungry?”

“I don’t know if I can stomach anything right now.”

There was a beat of silence again, as if Caleb was choosing his words carefully, “not even rice? Or maybe some broth?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on. I’ll order you something. Whatever you want.”

***

Caleb lended you one of his shirts since yours was stained with blood.

As promised, he ordered you takeout from a place that worked late and forced you to eat dinner. Even though you felt a little sick, you still made yourself eat.

He didn’t have a dinner table, so you sat on the couch while Caleb fed you.

“Why don’t you have a dinner table?” You inquire, “haven’t you moved in months ago?”

“I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

It was nice to catch up with him, even though it was a little awkward at times. You would talk for a few minutes before falling into silence again. Then someone would say something and the conversation would strike up again.

No one mentioned the kiss from earlier.

The familiar and slightly domestic atmosphere was almost enough to make you forget your previous worries. Almost.

There was a slight buzzing in your head, and then a wave of dizziness overcame you, harder than before.

You calmly, although wobbly, got up from the couch, and looked down at Caleb.

“Caleb, take me to the hospital.”

Caleb followed you up, “Hold on. Wait.”

You started walking towards the door, feeling like you could collapse at any moment. Caleb beat you to the front door, blocking it with his body.

“You’re not in the condition to go anywhere. Look at you. You can barely stand!”

“Then you take me!”

“Listen. I’ll take care of everything. You can’t go anywhere, even with my help.”

“But—“

“Don’t argue with me on this, pipsqueak,” He grabbed your arm a little more forcefully then he intended, “You’re not leaving in this state. No one will take better care of you than me.”

You bite at your bottom lip. What has gotten into him? Was he really just willing to let you bleed out just because he didn’t want you to leave?

Mustering up your last bit of courage and strength, you forcefully tug back on your arm that Caleb was holding, causing him to stumble forward a few steps. The plan was to get around him when he was caught off guard, however, when you retreated your arm in such a sudden motion, the muscles on your abdomen contracted, causing you to shudder in pain.

You collapse onto the floor, unable to put up a fight any further.

“Damn it, pipsqueak. I told you not to argue with me on this.”

Caleb gently helped you up, not minding your little stunt. He helped carry you to his room, tucking you into bed, bringing the covers all the way up to your chin even though you were hot. His scent enveloped you.

He planted a gentle kiss on your forehead, “you know I only want what’s best for you.”

You nod.

You realized that perhaps you should’ve seen this coming from the very beginning. The way he clung on to you when you first came, the way he never let you out of your sight. He wouldn’t let you go now. No matter how much you struggled against him. And you couldn’t say that you hated the idea. This was the person you loved the most. The person who knew you best. The person who would take care of you better than anyone.

He was the person you turned to at the end of the day.

Caleb respectfully sat down on the floor across from you, resting his head on the edge of his bed. Lost in thought, his fingers met yours. Then he brought them up to his lips and placed a gentle kiss.

“I’m mad about you,” he whispers, “I think I’ll die if you ever continue to ignore me like you did.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. Sleep tight, pipsqueak.”

It was four in the morning and the door was closed and Caleb's breathing gradually evened out. The light sound of cars passing on the street below was the only sound. In the haziness of the deep hours of the night, you were back in grandma’s house for a moment. You had snuck into Caleb's room again because you were scared of the sound of cars outside and the shadows on the wall of your room.

The pain in your side is unbearably excruciating. You carefully peel the blanket up to see Caleb’s sheets covered in blood. Your shirt had completely soaked through, and there was no doubt that your gauze had done little to prevent the blood flow. You felt unbearably hot, and your heart was thumping out of your chest.

Without thinking much further, you covered yourself with Caleb��s blanket and turned to the side, scumming to deep sleep shortly after.

At least you were with the person who knows you best.

At least you were with the person who loves you the most.

Masterlist

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idcbabyialreadylostmymind · 1 day ago

Text

•Disease

Viktor x God/ess!reader

Synopsis-Viktor is in the verge of death, only a forgotten god can bring him back; what’s his fate?

cw- character death, bad writing, god!reader, writer watched what if when she started this, sexual undertones, kissing, reader is referred as ‘you’, uhhh I gen don’t know what else to put 😭

“I could be the doctor, I can cure your disease…”

Mortals. Primitive, selfish beings, they take so much but give so little. They don’t know it always comes back to bite them in the end.

Jayce eyes shoot open taking in painful gasps of air, delirious he stands up on wobbly legs. Looking around he’s horrified by the carnage that surrounded him. Where the council room once stood only rubble and mangled corpses of the councilors take its place. His breathing quickened, Mel. He searched frantically finding her incoherent, he helped her to her feet before his heart stopped. Viktor.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Jayce cursed himself before he realized he found his best friend, his partner's body; broken and bloody. Jayce ran towards the dying man. “No, no Vik come on stay with me.” The Talis boy cried, ripping Viktors dirty button, pushing up and down on his chest, hearing the crack of a rib with every compression he gave. His vision went blurry with tears. Viktor couldn’t die, Jayce wouldn’t let him. This isn’t working. I need to get to the lab. Was all Jayce could think, lifting Viktor off the floor racing to their lab.

He threw Viktor down, going through everything he possibly could to save him. There was nothing. How could this be? All those endless nights in the lab, countless nights gone with sleep, how many times they had to run over their morals for the greater good. How could this be? Jayce slammed his hands down on the stretcher Viktors body lies. He hadn’t realized he began crying again. And this time he couldn’t stop. “Please, please, anyone save him. Save my partner. Save Viktor.” He cried out into the air, it was insane, he knew nothing could hear him, help him. He was alone.

•

“Save him…. Save Viktor.”

Your ears rang over and over, the same phrase repeated over and over and over again until it was scorched into your brain. “Fine. Fine, Fine!” You grimaced walking up the invisible stairs into a room unlike any other; a room full of mirrors all differing in shapes and sizes.

You could see into any universe through these mirrors , anywhere anytime, everywhere all at once. You flowed through time and space, keeping the contingency in balance; but the punny little mortal kept disturbing you. Looking through one of the mirrors you touched the middle of the portal closing your eyes focusing all your energy to find that one little speck. Your terrestrial energy hummed around you; your plane of existence shaking all around you as if a glass ball under pressure about to shatter. Gotcha.

The fog of the portal disappeared and in it replaced a beautifully devastating scene, where one single action could create a new branch of reality. But this man doesn’t seem to be doing anything, but cry.

He was quite pitiful. The other man, the one he cried over, close to death if not already there. An essence radiated all through his dying body, you could feel the power he could hold. What a waste of potential.

You listened closely as the male pleaded and pleaded. “Save him,” he wailed. “I’ll do anything, give anything.” But it wasn’t him you wanted.

You bargained with yourself, if you saved the dying man you could have another soul, another disciple. But then your oath, if you broke then who knows what the Watchers would do.

“But, the Watchers haven’t been heard from in millenniums. I’m sure one life does not matter.” You mutter to yourself taking in a deep breath before you reach into the mirror grabbing Viktors hand and pull his soul from his body and bring him into your realm.

Viktor awoke gasping for air, he looked around panic feeling out his nerves. There was nothing, actually nothing but white, he was in a blindingly white room with no doors apparently. He looked down and saw his body, that was definitely not his. Where his metal protected body once was a white void takes his place, it didn’t feel like his body but a replica of what once was. Just as he went to find a way out a voice caught him. “Finally you’re awake I was wondering when you would—“

“Who are you?” Viktor cut you off from giving your gracious welcome speech, he studied you as you gathered yourself from his rude barbaric homosapien ways. You were indescribable, you went above all meanings of magic or logic he has ever known. Your body was like his but different. Colors of deep hue swished through your glorious temple, unlike his body yours blended with the void as if you bent it to your will. You floated around him ten times his size, terrifyingly beautiful.

“I am everything and nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

You don’t answer him, only swaying back and forth studying the statue in front of you, having truly forgotten how little human bodies can be.

“I heard your mortal man beg for your life, pleading for your soul's salvation.. I can give you salvation, Viktor.” You hummed only bringing Viktor deeper into your symphony of madness. “I can cure your disease.”

“What disease.” If all he can say through all this lunacy. “The disease of death.” You continued voiced strained almost as of this was exciting you, the longer you went on the clearer everything became, the blast killed him and this must be his hell.

“If I am to live again there will be a logical– a right way to do it.” Viktor tried to rebuttal your divine interference.

“Nothing can save you, no medicine, nor any human magic. But I can be your anecdote” You moved so fast Viktor couldn’t even catch your face as you moved back and forth.

“What.. I don’t– I don’t believe this.”

“I can make you believe.” You suddenly disappeared just for Viktor to feel a hand drag down his back.

“You are the flesh maggots adore,” you whisper into his ear, hands feeling his body up. “But I can make you so much more.” Your voice entranced him, enchanting his soul. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ll transcend any and everything you’ve ever done on that little speck of a planet of yours.”

“How?”

Gosh the questions have mortals always been this annoying?

“I’ll merge the smallest piece of my soul and I'll exchange and you will give me yours.” You explain an exaggerated smile stitched on your small, your face muscles strain he was concerned for you, they would surely cramp if you continued.

“My what?”

“Oh my— your soul. What else?” You look at him as if he was an insolent child and to you he was.

Viktor, well he was calculating whether or not this could be real or not. How out of 1 million probabilities this is the afterlife he was stuck with and if he was lucky this is all a dream and he’ll awake in a hospital, maybe a little sore, but definitely not survived by a forgotten god. As if hearing his thoughts the creature before him pushed him on the ground, straddling him.

“Forgotten’s a harsh word, I’d like to think of it as temporarily disposed of. And like I said before,” you spoke softly, hands caressing his shoulders and face, Viktor’s stomach clenched an unfamiliar and unwelcome warmth filling his body. “No human medicine will work for you. Only I can help you, so let me cure you.” You looked into his eyes, no deeper. It was as if you were connecting with his very being, so he definitely wasn’t thinking with the next words he uttered.

“Fine.”

He gave in way quicker than you thought, you smiled delighted. Getting off of him quickly and lead him to another place of whatever plane of existence you were on. This time there was one thing, a huge pitch black temple, the sculpture looks as if made at the depths of Tartarus. It made one quite unsettled how off it looked compared to the heavenly light that could burn one’s eyes out blazing behind it.

But one thing Viktor was thinking, was how big this place is.

When you two reached the temple and he looked back to you, you had a much more serious expression, your angelic features scrunching up to make an unnatural scowl. He could tell you were never meant to be unhappy.

“Kneel.” Your instruction cut through his ears, slicing his eardrums. Your demand was quite painful. You looked back remorse painting your eyes. But you had to remain in control.

As you knelt beside him you dipped your hand into a golden dish filled with water as pitch as the temple. He hadn’t even realized what was in front of them. An altar. Dawned with candles that never melted, flowers that never wilted, fruit that would never rot. Unfamiliar Oil aromas mixed into his nostrils. Four cups each different in size and style sit on their own corner on the altarpiece. Who knew immortal beings have their own gods?

“Please ancient gods, forgive us for our mortal sins…” you whispered an unintelligible prayer, dipping in the gold dish four separate times kissing your hands in between the dips. You poured all different elements along with the water into a different golden cup. Then you grabbed each chalice and poured blood-like tar out of each speaking what Viktor assumed were names, that even he couldn’t pronounce.

“As you have sacrificed for us we shall for you.”

That caught his attention. He couldn’t even speak when you grab his hand and without a knife cut his hand open with the tip of your fingernail. “W-wha…” He couldn’t even speak as you did the same, your blood pouring out the same as he. He held his hand hissing at the burning pain and you just groaned, snatching his hand back. “Stop being a baby.” You say healing the cut with a wave of your hand over his.

“Now drink.” She said, bringing the golden chalice to his lips deaconing him on. His lips touched the liquid gulping four times, it was bitter and tasted like death.

He watched you as you downed the rest, the red drink dripping down your chest. You look back at him, a new ferocity freed from your soul, grabbing the sides of his perfectly aligned face and smash your lips into his. Viktor was taken aback, he tried to push you away but you were too strong and suddenly he found himself falling into the kiss. Your warm muscle found his lips parting them biting his lip so hard he bleed the metallic taste feeling up your mouth and before he could try and push away it felt as if something was being shoved down his throat. It was excruciating, excessive, euphoric.

As you merged yourself using all your will to not consume his entire being, Viktor felt as if he was at the top of the world. His eyes rolled back in ecstasy, never having felt this much pleasure before it was unreal, unnatural and he needed more.

He grabbed your arms pulling your inhabited body closer, his body sparked a new energy, a powerful energy all through your body, it made you lust for more. Your soul's powerful emergence created a light, The light that was both of you, burned brighter and brighter until it combusted stabbing the white voided room into a black hole.

And then Viktor was gone.

•

“They broke the oath.” A deep, dark voice spoke.

“This cannot be.” A jittery one shuttered.

“An act of rebellion I tell you. Who knows any deity now will think they can do whatever they want no respect—“ An old shriveled on spouted on and on.

“Quiet.” Said the fourth voice, all falling silent . “They will be dealt with accordingly, but first let’s see what they are planning…..”

Mortals are not the only ones who take things and never give back, Gods are the only real selfish ones; but they never know until the very end.

#arcane jayce #arcane viktor #arcane #arcane x you #god!reader #goddess!reader #viktor x reader #viktor x you #arcane x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane league of legends #viktor lol

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utopiastri · 1 day ago

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25. Showing up injured at their enemy's house for Osc/Charles, please? 🙏

hi anon!!! thank you for the prompt dear! i've never written choscar before and this was an absolute delight to put together!!! (cw for descriptions of major injury)

(prompt list here)

Oscar’s doing his best not to yawn through Ryan’s work story when the doorbell rings.

He smiles apologetically, standing up from the table. “Sorry, let me just get that.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Ryan says, smiling politely. Oscar inwardly grimaces at the pet name but smiles back.

A horrible feeling in his gut makes Oscar close the door to the dining room on his way to the front of the house. This gut feeling is proven correct when he opens the door to find Charles Leclerc on his front doorstep.

“What are you doing here?” he hisses.

Charles gives him a pained smile. “Oh, believe me, I wish I were anywhere else but here currently.”

“Then, why are you here? Go somewhere else!”

Charles gives Oscar a pleading look. “I need your help.”

“Charles,” he says exasperatedly, scrubbing his hands over his face, “I am literally the last person you should expect to help you.”

“Please.”

Oscar swallows. He hears a sound from behind him.

“Uh,” Ryan calls from a few rooms away, “Everything ok, sweetheart?”

Charles shoots him a look. “Sweetheart?” he mouths.

“Shut up. I was on a date before you came barging in here,” he whispers.

“A first date?" Charles asks, eyebrows raised, before correcting himself. "Ah, no, a second date but the first one was already pretty shit, hm?”

Oscar hates how perceptive he is.

“Yes,” he admits reluctantly.

“So second date. And you are letting him call you ‘sweetheart’?”

Oscar glares at Charles, but doesn’t get a chance to retaliate before Ryan’s made it to the front door.

“Oh. Ah. Who’s this, Oscar?” he asks.

“Pierre Gasly,” Charles lies smoothly, extending a hand to shake, “I’m a friend of Oscar’s from work." He shoots Oscar a defeated look. "I was just stopping by to drop something off, I won’t take up any more of your evening.”

“Wait,” Oscar says, before Charles can even start to run off. He hates himself for what he's about to do but his decision was made the second Charles said ‘please’. He turns to Ryan: “I’m so sorry, Charles actually came to tell me there’s a problem at work we’ll need to sort out – he offered to deal with it himself but I think I’ll have to lend a hand.”

Ryan shakes his head. “No, that’s ok, I’ll, uh, leave you guys to it?”

“If you would,” Charles answers, smiling in a way that would alarm anyone who knows him, but tends to charm complete strangers.

After a couple of minutes of Oscar saying his goodbyes to Ryan (and suffering through the worst goodnight kiss of his life), Oscar turns his focus to Charles, who is…

No longer in the hallway.

“Charles?” he calls.

“Kitchen!” is the response he gets.

“You know, when I offered to help you, that wasn’t me offering you to give yourself a…tour.” Oscar freezes in the doorway of his kitchen staring at the mess of wounds that was once Charles’ chest. “Charles,” he says hoarsely.

Charles smiles wanly, even as he continues to try to clean out his injuries a little. “Like I said,” he hisses as he pokes at a particularly nasty-looking wound, “I need your help.”

“You didn’t think to maybe mention the fucking life-threatening injuries you had, rather than standing on my doorstep teasing me about my date,” Oscar chastises, kneeling down on the tiles and swiping the first aid supplies from Charles’ hands.

“Oh come on, Oscar. You deserve better than a man who,” Charles cuts himself off to groan as Oscar starts methodically trying to close up Charles’ worst injuries, but he swiftly continues speaking, “A man who calls you a pet name on the second date. And god, the least he could do is call you ‘baby’.”

“Do you think teasing me about pet names whilst I literally hold your life in my hands is the way to go?”

Charles smiles lazily, even as his eyes squeeze tight with pain. “Perhaps not, baby.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Oscar says, taking a grim delight in the sharp inhale Charles takes as he starts stitching a large cut together, “You lost the right to call me ‘baby’ three years ago.”

“Was that when I tried to kill you in San Diego or when you tried to kill me in Beijing?”

Oscar gives him a wry look. “That was when you decided to skip our wedding to go meet with an arms dealer.”

“Ah, yes, my mistake. I promise he was an ugly arms dealer, if that makes you feel any better.”

For a few moments, the only sound in the room is Oscar trying to deal with Charles’ injuries as best he can. Oscar wants to say something. He wants to ask so badly what Charles is doing here, but he knows Charles knows he wants to ask and he refuses to give him the satisfaction.

He gives in in the end though.

He always does with Charles.

“Why did you come here? Why come to me?”

Charles looks at him and, for the first time tonight, Oscar truly registers the deep devastation in his eyes.

“You were the only one I trusted not to hurt me,” he whispers.

#listen. this isn't a mr and mrs smith AU but it's like #mr and mrs smith adjacent #just. exes to violent enemies to. whatever relationship you have with the guy stitching you up on the kitchen floor??? compelling #thank you anon!!!#choscar #drabbles #asks

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emsdevs · 2 days ago

Text

The Return

Bear and Bug 🐻🐞

a/n: surprise!! kirby talked me into splitting this part up, so you all get one more part of the main conflict after this!! enjoy!!!

masterlist | NHL Masterlists | Bear and Bug Masterlist

Three weeks had passed since you arrived at Cole’s place, and he’s been trying everything under the sun to get you to return to the lake house with him. Today, after getting out of bed, you find out he’s pulled out the big guns. When you walk into the living room, you’re met with not only Cole but also Trevor and Alex. Apparently, Cole had filled them in on the situation, and they changed their flights to Montreal to come help.

“C’mon. It can’t be that bad. I know for a fact Jack misses you,” Trevor is currently trying to encourage you to come with them, your packed suitcase sitting beside him. At some point during the night, they had snuck into your room and packed your bags, leaving you with no “good” excuse not to go with them.

“You talked to him?” your head shoots toward Trevor, hope filling your eyes. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as you thought.

“...No,” he looks toward the ground as he speaks, “but! I know Jack, and I know he’s probably falling apart at the seams if you two haven’t talked in three weeks. You’re his person. He’s probably dying right now.”

“Oh, great. I’m killing my best friend! This is exactly what I was worried about when Quinn and I got together. He’s been having such a tough time, and I’ve made it a hundred times worse. I’ll be lucky if he ever talks to me again.”

“You’re right. She is being dramatic,” Alex whispers to Cole before stepping forward to try to comfort you. “Look, sweetheart, the only way to make this any better is to bite the bullet. I know you’re scared, but you can’t keep running away from it.”

You were silent for a moment, shocked by the wisdom from Alex. After gathering your thoughts, you spoke, “You’re right. Let me go be sure you all got everything, and then we can head out.”

“No way that worked,” Cole couldn’t believe their plan worked in their favor.

“Bro, when did you become a shrink?”

The tension at the lake house was higher than ever. Ellen and Jim had given up on trying to help their sons work out their issues, so they drove back home for a while, letting the boys stew in their anger. The boys had done nothing except that. Quinn and Luke silently shared an alliance while Jack either ignored them completely or began picking fights.

“Hope you two are ready to go running back to your precious Bug,” Jack told the other two boys as he walked to the kitchen to grab a snack.

“What do you mean?” Luke answered, sass written all over his question.

“Trev just texted me. He, Alex, and Cole just boarded their flight. With Bug.”

“She’s coming back?” Quinn couldn’t hide the hope in his voice. He didn’t care how Jack felt anymore. He was miserable, and he needed his Bug.

“Don’t get all excited. That doesn’t mean she’s getting back together with you,” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you think she’s coming back for you,” Luke doesn’t even attempt to hide the sneer in his voice.

“She’s my best friend, Lukey. Of course, she’s coming back to get in my good graces.”

“Are you kidding me? Look at how you’ve been treating her, Jack! We’re all lucky she’s even coming back at all!” Quinn is angry now. You’ve probably been hurting more than he has for the past three weeks, and Jack is acting all high and mighty like you’ll come crawling back to him. As far as Quinn is concerned, you don’t need to come crawling back to anybody. If anything, the three of them owe you an apology.

“Of course, you’re sticking up for her! God, she has you wrapped around her finger! You’re so whipped you can’t see that she’s the problem here!”

“No, you don’t get to do that. You know Quinn is right. You’ve been horrible to her, and she deserves an apology. From all of us, honestly. Jesus, I mean, she even put you’re feelings above her happiness. She and Quinn could have been so happy, but you were complaining about how horrible the NHL is every night, so her main concern was protecting you. Mind you, you are not one of the two people in that relationship, so the fact she took your feelings about it into account at all is a kind of grace that you obviously don’t deserve. Why don’t you get down from your high horse and think about everything Bug has done for you? Then, you can tell us if she’s the one that needs to apologize or not,” Luke doesn’t give Jack time to answer, walking off as soon as he finishes his speech. Quinn doesn’t hesitate in following, only giving Jack a sharp look before making his way to your room once again. He found Luke already there, so they sat on your bed together, putting on a movie and soon falling asleep.

Jack, now alone in the living room, takes the time to do as Luke said. He thought back to when he knew you’d be his best friend forever. You two had silently agreed to have separate friend groups at school, but when you saw Jack’s friends had left him alone one day at lunch, you left your friends to go sit with him. They stopped talking to you after that, but you were fine with it because you had Jack. He thought about everything you had sacrificed for him, even skipping out on joining an afterschool club because it would conflict with some of his game times. How many times had you put Jack first, even when you could’ve had something really good for you if you had put yourself first? He could think of at least one: Quinn. He’s a horrible best friend.

Jack lost track of how long he sat there, losing himself in his thoughts that were slowly becoming more and more self-deprecating, but before he knew it, he heard the front door opening. Moments later, he jumps to his feet when he sees you walk into the living area.

“Hey,” he says, slightly out of breath.

“Hey.”

taglist: @heartsforjh @devilinpradaheels @coldheartedmar @juxmi @puckmedude @alexxavicry @dancerbailey3 @hockey43 @madebyhappymeals @ccomandercody @kirajessie @beenucks @iamspeed6

join the taglist

#em's writing #bear and bug au #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #qh43 #vancouver canucks #canucks hockey #nhl #nhl x reader

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thefrontmanscockwarmer · 7 hours ago

Text

My Best Friend’s Brother (Part 5)

Player 001 x reader

Masterlist <- comment on this post to be added to the tag list

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

You, Jun Ho, and In Ho walked to your apartment, grabbing clothes, your favorite throw blanket, and stuff for your cat.

“Why do you need so much shit?” In Ho, who seemingly had something to say all the time, spoke. He rolled your suitcase.

“She’s gonna be staying with us all month, dim wit” Jun Ho replied.

“Well that’s stupid. Don’t touch my shit while I’m at work.”

“Our room, our stuff” you said cheekily before you shot a look at him.

“No. My room, my stuff” he said.

“Wellllll I am staying there for a whi-“

“Whatever. Don’t touch my shit.”

“She touched your shit yesterday…” Jun Ho said.

“I dont give a fuck, i gave her permission to touch my shit.” In Ho snapped back. “Now, im telling her not to touch my shit when I’m not home”

“I don’t want touch shit at all”

“You literally scoop cat shit” Jun Ho says. In Ho snickered.

“Good one” he gave a fist bump.

“Can we stop talking about shit?!” You ask heatedly. The boys shut their mouths before In Ho whispered:

“Someone’s losing her shit.” Jun Ho laughed loudly, In Ho following suit.

“Seriously, In Ho? You’re literally older than us, get your shit together” they both snorted before laughing even louder. Making you laugh too.

Jun Ho left almost as soon as you guys arrived to the house.

In Ho pushed you against the door, barricading it shut. Breathing heavily in your ear, his cock leaking in his pants.

“I’ve been wanting to get ahold of you since you got out of bed this morning.” He growled in your ear. “I shouldn’t have let you go”

“No, you shouldn’t have” you reply, helping him out of his pants. You dropped to your knees. In Ho pulled your hair up, as you licked his tip. The feeling making him throw his head back, a low grumble from his chest accompanying it. You took his length, putting his cock deep in your throat. In Ho grunted primally as he pushed his cock in deeper. Forcing your head to hit the door. He pinned your hair up, thrusting into your mouth.

“Oh god, (y/n), why does your mouth feel so fucking good?” He coaxed in a low tone, fucking your throat. “I almost want to cum right now, fuck” the foreign feeling of his cock in your mouth was a long awaited day dream, you began to gag and choke on his thick member. The vibrations sending him into overdrive. He sped up, chasing his orgasm now, continuing his brutal assault on your throat. He braced his hand against the door, his hips stuttered. His body tense and convulsion with every thrust into your mouth. A low grumble”oh god” was uttered in the most sinful groan as he released cum down your throat. Thrusting slower now to fully empty himself inside you before putting himself back in his jeans.

“Your cum tastes almost like whiskey” you giggle.

“Well, according to last night… you really fucking like whiskey” he said. Your watery eyes looked up at him. “Ready to go pick out a new mattress your-annoyingness” he joked. You slapped his shoulder as you stood.

“Shut up.” You squint at him.

“Sorry” he kept laughing. “Mom, tell your son to stop laughing at me” you said as you walk into the kitchen.

“I would but, I haven’t heard him laugh this hard since he was younger.” She giggled lightly.

“Where Mr. Hwang?” You ask. “we might need his help.”

“He’s out betting on the horse races. Just have them deliver it to the house, the boys can do all of that.”

“Okay.” You shrug. You hear a loud groan as your cat emerges from In Ho’s room.

“Come back! I wanted more cuddles!!” He shouts chasing after the animal.

“Awww he’s so precious!” Mrs. Hwang exclaims. “What’s his name?”

“Wiseuki” you say aloud. The cat rubs against her legs as she repeats his name, looking at you knowing why you named him that… after her whiskey drinking son.

“Come on (y/n), let’s go pick that mattress” In Ho says pushing you out the door.

As soon as you entered the mattress store, he threw himself onto a bed. Immediate disgust etching on his face. You could tell this was going to be a long trip.

Taglist

@christinamadsen @sebbymybaby21 @nakiio5775 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @player279achlys @watasinekoru @galaxygurlll @angelofthorr

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wordsofelie · 1 day ago

Text

🔭mars

part of my observatory event, requested by @dearru <3

iwaizumi hajime x f!reader

summary: you have the biggest crush on your neighbour—turns out he goes to the same gym as you.

content warnings: time skip setting, fluff, iwaizumi hajime is too beautiful for this world

words count: 1.3k

“I swear I’ve never seen something so magnificent,” you say in a fierce whisper.

Your best friend groans on the other end of the call. “Are you talking about that guy again?”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“What is ridiculous?” she asks, already exasperated, hoping you’ll finally change the subject.

“His awesomeness. This morning, he was on his balcony, hanging out the sheets and still he looked so cool and-”

“Oh god, I’m hanging up now.”

She should be used to it by now. For weeks, your not-so-subtle (and maybe slightly overdramatic) crush on your new neighbour has been the only thing on your mind—and on your lips. But you’re not the one to blame. The man is a pleasure to your eyes—in an unfair kind of way.

You first noticed him when he moved in two months ago.

His arms were stacked with cardboard boxes, his short hair was tousled from the summer heat and a few strands were clinging to his forehead. You were heading to the lift when he walked past, barely glancing up as he unlocked the apartment right next to yours. His brows were knitted in a frown, but the moment he noticed you, a quiet smile tugged at his lips. And you swore you’d never seen such beauty before.

You mumbled something like “good morning”, although you don’t even know if it reached his ears since you hastily turned your gaze away and stepped into the lift.

Then, you started noticing him everywhere.

In the hallway, where he nodded politely but never said much. At the mailboxes, where he always grabbed his letters with an effortless coolness. On his balcony, where he stretched after runs, wearing nothing but a tank top and shorts that should probably be illegal.

His balcony isn’t directly aligned with yours—it’s angled just enough that, from your couch, you can see straight into his living room. So really, it’s not your fault if you watch him sometimes. And yes, on the rare nights when you let curiosity get the best of you, you find yourself peeking through your window, catching glimpses of him under the soft glow of his apartment light. Tapping on his laptop. Making coffee. Just being there.

Not that you’re spying. That would be creepy. You’re just—observing.

The gym is the one place where you can let go. Since work has been demanding, you figured exercising might help you find some balance. Physically, maybe—but mentally? Not a chance. Because ever since you laid eyes on him, your mind has been an absolute mess.

Which is how you find yourself, mid-run on the treadmill, calling your best friend for the fourth time this week just to talk about your hot neighbour.

“Wait! Please, don’t leave me alone in this crisis,” you whine into your earphones.

Your best friend sighs. “Crisis? You’re staring at a hot guy and refusing to do anything about it. That’s not a crisis, that’s just cowardness.”

The thought alone makes your heart racing faster in your rib cage. “I am not refusing. I just- I don’t know where to start.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe by asking his name?”

“No, no, no. I could never.”

“Come on, you’ve been eating, sleeping, and breathing this guy for weeks, and you don’t even know his name. I told you—coward.”

You step off the treadmill and catch your breath. Your voice hovers somewhere between a whisper and a complaint as you wipe your forehead with a towel. “Excuse me, but I am not—”

“Hey,” a deep voice interrupts.

Your heart stops.

Your best friend is still talking in your ear, but you don’t hear a word. Slowly, so slowly, you turn your head—

And he’s there.

Right in front of you.

All lean muscle, sun-kissed skin, and olive-green eyes that are even more stunning up close.

Since when does he come to your gym?

“I, uh-hi,” you stammer, yanking out an earbud.

He nods toward the treadmill. “Are you still using this?”

"Yes-I mean no. I-I…"

The corner of his lips turns upwards. “Yes or no?”

Everything in your head seems to come out scrambled, in the wrong order. "No! I mean-I'm done! It’s all yours!"

“Is it your neighbour?” Your best friend, still very much on the call, says. She doesn’t wait for your answer to add, "Ask his name."

"Shut up!" you blurt out and you feel heat scorching your face when you realise what you said out loud. You wave your hands in panic and rush to explain, “Oh my god, not you. Sorry”

Your neighbour looks somewhere between amused and mildly concerned. "Uh… right. Thanks." He still remains polite, almost too kind even though you just made a fool of yourself.

And just like that, he steps onto the treadmill, setting up his workout while you remain frozen in pure, undiluted mortification.

You spin on your heel and flee.

And for the next week, you avoid the gym like the plague and close your curtains.

It’s late Friday evening when the universe decides to ruin you again.

You step into the apartment complex’s lift, pressing the button for your floor. Just as the doors begin to close, a hand shoots out, stopping them.

You don’t even have time to react before he steps in.

The hot neighbour, whose name still remains a mystery.

He barely spares you a glance as he enters—until his eyes flick toward you, lingering just long enough for a smirk to tug at the corner of his mouth.

"You quit the gym?" he asks after a moment of silence.

You nearly choke. "What? No! I’ve just been… busy. With work. I work a lot… these days."

His smirk deepens. "Right. Then that’s even more reason to go back. It's good not only for physical health, but also for mental health.”

You clear your throat, grasping for composure. “You talk like a true professional.”

His eyes widen, you’re not sure why but he suddenly seems uncomfortable. He scratches the back of his neck and his eyes fall to the ground. “Sorry, that sounded like I’m mansplaining or something.”

“Not at all.” You smile a little. “But I guess I don’t have much of a choice now, do I?”

He immediately lifts his eyes and there's relief on his face, the frown that had formed a few seconds earlier, go away. You can see him tilting his head slightly, considering you.

"I’m going tomorrow morning. You coming?"

You swallow. "I-yeah. Sure."

"Cool," he says easily. Then, after a beat, "Wanna grab a coffee after?"

Your heart stumbles.

"Like… together?"

He huffs a quiet laugh. "Yeah. I mean, no pressure, you can totally say no."

You open your mouth, then close it again. A week ago, you were a coward who wished to never bump into him again. And now—now—he’s standing in a lift, casually inviting you for coffee like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"I-yeah. That’d be nice."

The lift dings. He steps aside, letting you go first. It only takes a few steps to reach your door, but somehow, it feels incredibly long. You finally turn to wish him a good night, but his voice cuts through the quiet first.

“Oh, and I’m Iwaizumi, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

You take a second to breathe in his words, his name.

You say yours in return—and you swear you see his cheeks redden just a little.

"Then, see you tomorrow, neighbour." He exclaims, throwing you one last glance over his shoulder.

And just like that, he disappears into his apartment.

While you stand there, staring after him, pulse thudding in your ears.

You finally know the name of your hot neighbour.

And he just asked you on a date.

You call your best friend that night to tell her everything. “What should I wear? More like casual? Or classy?” You ask her at some point.

Though she’s away, you can sense the smile on her face. “Gosh, I really should get paid for this.”

a/n: writing for iwaizumi hajime 27 athletic trainer is the best therapy

special tag for @sahrii im glad i can share my iwa obsession with you <3

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tsumuus · 2 days ago

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Ahhh hooray and congrats on the 1k!! Your valentine's event is so so cute, I love all the ideas! Could I please request a box of chocolates for ushijima? ❤

Valentine’s Day had always been one of those days you admired from afar- watching classmates exchange gifts, witnessing the blush of first confessions, and relishing in the general warmth that came with the occasion. This year, you had decided to contribute in your own way, spending the night before carefully crafting homemade chocolates for your entire class. Each small bag was tied with a delicate ribbon, each filled with sweets you had put time and effort into making.

You arrived at school with a tote bag full of the individually wrapped treats, excited to hand them out during the break period. As planned, you walked around the classroom, placing them gently onto each desk while greeting your classmates. Laughter and delighted murmurs filled the room as your friends and peers discovered their treats, thanking you with smiles and teasing remarks about how dedicated you were.

Among the many little packets, there was one that differed from the rest. It held the same chocolates, but nestled inside was a handwritten note- a playful confession meant for your best friend, meant to be nothing more than a joke. Something silly, something lighthearted. A harmless Valentine’s prank. You had intended to hand it to her personally, grinning as she opened it. But in the midst of distributing your gifts, you must have mixed up the bags.

And so, completely unaware of the mistake, you spent the rest of the day in blissful ignorance.

It wasn’t until the final bell rang that the atmosphere shifted. Most students had already left, filing out into the hallways to continue their Valentine’s Day plans. You remained at your desk, gathering your belongings when a shadow loomed over you.

Wakatoshi Ushijima stood before you, his towering presence as imposing as ever. His expression was unreadable, but there was a certain softness in his gaze that made your stomach twist in nervous anticipation. You barely spoke outside of school-related discussions; you were acquaintances at best. He was admired by many, respected for both his talent and sheer presence.

“Thank you for the chocolates,” he said, his voice steady and deep.

You smiled, pleased that he had enjoyed them. “Oh! Of course, Ushijima. I’m glad you liked them.”

For a brief moment, you wondered why he had sought you out just to say that. But before you could think too much about it, he continued.

“I feel the same way,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I would like to go out with you sometime.”

Your mind short-circuited.

“…Huh?”

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked down at his hand. There, between his fingers, was a very familiar piece of paper- the confession letter. Your confession letter. Your joke confession letter.

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and panic surged through you like wildfire.

“Oh my god,” you breathed out, hands flying up to your face. “Oh my god, oh my god-”

Ushijima’s brows furrowed slightly. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, then immediately regretted it when you saw his expression falter just the slightest bit. “I mean- no! I mean- Ushijima, I think there’s been a mistake.”

He glanced down at the note. “The confession was not from you?”

“Well- no, it was from me,” you admitted, rubbing your temples, trying to piece your thoughts together. “But it wasn’t- it wasn’t meant for you. I mean, not that I wouldn’t-” You groaned, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “It was a joke. I wrote it as a joke for my best friend, but you must have gotten the wrong bag.”

Silence stretched between you two as Ushijima processed your words. You half-expected him to retract his statement, to walk away and pretend the whole thing never happened. But he didn’t.

Instead, he nodded once, a firm sort of conviction in his movement. “Regardless, I meant what I said.”

You blinked. “…What?”

“I have liked you for some time now,” he stated bluntly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I just never found the right moment to tell you. This seemed like an opportunity.”

You stared at him, feeling as though the ground had shifted beneath you. “You… have?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears. The idea that Ushijima Wakatoshi- stoic, composed, admired- had been harboring feelings for you all this time was nothing short of surreal. And yet, looking at him now, seeing the honesty in his expression, you realized that he was serious.

It wasn’t a joke to him. It had never been.

A part of you wanted to scream into the void. Another part of you, the part that had always admired him from a distance, felt an undeniable warmth spread through your chest.

You exhaled, trying to steady yourself. “I- um. I don’t really know what to say.”

“Then take your time,” he replied, his voice gentle in a way you hadn’t expected. “I will wait.”

You swallowed thickly, staring at him, at the quiet patience in his eyes. The reality of the situation was beginning to settle, and for the first time since the conversation started, you felt yourself relax.

“…Okay.” You met his gaze with a small, genuine smile. “Then… maybe we can start with getting to know each other better?”

He nodded, a subtle curve to his lips. “I would like that.”

As you gathered your things, preparing to walk out with him, you realized something strange about fate- that even with all your careful planning, life had a way of leading you to unexpected places. Perhaps, just this once, a mistake had led you exactly where you needed to be.

valentines event | masterlists

a/n ty for the request :) this is the first fic ive ever written for ushijima🙃 hope you liked it

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edward-munson · 22 hours ago

Text

I don't care | S.H.

Summary: Taking care of Steve after he was attacked by an army of demobats seems like a lot of work, only because apparently he doesn't like you.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of injury, allusion to smut

Word count: 2.2k

☆°•○♡

"You want them spicy or not?" You ask Steve as you make nachos for dinner for both of you.

He's lying on the couch, on his back. He still recovers from the attack of the demobats. His neck is almost fully scarred, but the bites on his stomach and his sides are still painful. You've been laying low together for close to two weeks.

Your friends didn't want to make you team up with them to find Vecna and kill him. Not that you're not brave or strong enough to do so. But you're still pretty new to all of this and someone had to stay with Steve. So you didn't even bother opposing the idea, even though he's not your biggest fan.

God knows why, he never told his reasons. And your friends didn't know either. Maybe Eddie did, but he wouldn't open his mouth about it.

"I still think this is really unnecessary. I'm not a fucking child" He complains as he walks past the kitchen door, leaning against the sink.

With crossed arms, he looks at your food. You made chilli beans, guacamole and cheese sauce for the spicy nachos. You look up at him, trailing your eyes on his neck for an instant before raising an eyebrow to him.

"You can't even hold your own weight, Harrington. Stop being a crybaby".

Steve scoffs at you, but doesn't move an inch from his position. "Jesus, I wish we had another plan".

You drop the spoon you were using, turning your face to look at him. "I'm only doing this because they asked me to. Get off your own ass".

You leave the kitchen, walking out to the bedroom you were sleeping on. You were staying at his house. It's not like there were other options, but you couldn't refuse to stay there when he's alone and barely walking. Well, he can walk. The worst part is that he needs rest because of his wounds.

The past two weeks you've been quite getting along. Not that much, really. It's not like you were friends. Probably more like close acquaintances. Because obviously, he was the one pushing you away.

You didn't leave your room for a while, you were too annoyed to eat, and since it was dinner for the two of you, it didn't feel like you should eat anymore. You decided to spend your time watching something on the TV, which would easily make you get bored.

And then you would read books, or write stuff. It's been pretty tough lately since Vecna appeared. Max almost got killed and now she was staying at Dustin's house. The other kids were coming back to Hawkins to help, maybe Eleven might be able to do something about that.

You actually wished you were doing something fun. Like, taking a trip to the beach or snowboarding since it's fall and the weather has been cold. Your thoughts were pushed back by a knock on the door. Steve didn't open it and you didn't mention doing it either, so he just stayed there.

"Sorry I was an idiot" His voice came out muffled through the closed door. "I know I've been cranky and annoying".

You only opened the door after a couple of minutes, not exactly sure if he was still there. But he looked up from the floor at you. "You used to be nice. I mean, way before this curse happened".

He stayed quiet, because you were right. But what else can he do if the world was turned upside down (almost literally) again? And you almost got them killed once, not on purpose of course.

You were also the one to get too close to Robin and he hated seeing his best friend sharing her friendship with someone else. Because up until then, he was the only one she was the closest he had to a friend, even though he had a strong relationship with Eddie too.

None of it was your fault, but he grew annoyed over you. He couldn't lie to himself and say you weren't too kind and helpful. But he started to become extremely unenthusiastic over you through the year.

"A lot has happened since then. I'm trying to live up to the fact that we're against another monster again" Steve leans an arm against the doorframe, but refuses to keep his gaze at you.

"Which isn't my fault, by the way. Not to mention I'm the one who pulled you out of the watergate before you were eaten".

Another few seconds of silence, which was followed by a sarcastic nasal laugh. He shook his head and hung it low to the floor.

"Oh, you want a prize for that? Because I remember clearly when I didn't ask for your help!" His words were harsh, even if not intended.

But now you were the one who didn't know what to say. Until you feel the bitter taste on your tongue.

"Guess I should've let them rip your skin apart, then".

He saw the door shutting in front of him, cursing himself for being extremely idiotic and insensitive. He almost felt like punching his own face for that.

Steve heard you talking to Eddie that night through your walkie talkie. It was a little bit hard to hear because the reception was static for you. But you could listen to Eddie and God, you missed him and the others. It started to become unbearable to live with Steve. He heard you lament the whole situation, complaining about the way you were treating each other.

He was bitter about the things they were going through. He was angry he couldn't have done more. And he was taking it out all on you. He couldn't face another apology on the same day, because he knew he didn't deserve to be forgiven. Not right now.

The next day, he made breakfast by himself. It took you by surprise, but by the time you were up, he had already eaten. And you wouldn't want to eat with him either. You remember Nancy saying the bickering was just "sexual tension" but you knew it didn't have anything to do with that.

Even though you felt your ears burning from the thought, you couldn't deny to yourself that he was pretty charming. And seeing him shirtless whenever he would change the gauze made you feel weird. God, his hair was always pretty while yours looked like a bird nest after waking up.

The day seemed to have lasted longer since you haven't exchanged a single word to each other. He was focused on watching movies, playing video games and listening to music. He was getting bored out of his mind, but there wasn't much he could do being injured.

You, on the other hand, went out to do some errands. In fact, you didn't care you left him alone. You were getting tired of staying inside. So you went to see Max, and invited her to eat at Burger King. She seemed to feel better to do something like that too. Everything seemed pretty fuzzy lately.

Will, Mike and Eleven were pretty close to Hawkins. Thanks to Argyle who thinks he's a speed racer, and Jonathan who encourages him to drive long hours so they can arrive as soon as possible.

It was almost 7 PM when you came back home. You've finally had some fun after a week. You obviously couldn't be going out since they still haven't found Vecna and he knows about you too. The man in front of you seemed pretty pissed that he didn't see you were out until he woke up two hours ago.

"What? Don't give me that father look" You dropped your backpack on the floor and followed upstairs.

He's got a whole show prepared and he wasn't feeling like he would regret it this time.

"You know you can't just fucking go out and yet, you still do" He walked behind you, like a mother scolding a child.

"Yeah, dad. I know so. But here I am, back in pieces" You turned on your heel to look at him before closing your door.

Much to your dismay, he was faster this time, holding it with his right foot and right hand. Even injured, he was still stronger than you.

"No, don't push it. You can be an easy target for him, you know that?"

You huff, dropping your arm to your side. "Look, Harrington. I'm an adult, and I'm very aware of what I do or don't do. So please, just stop making a scene and leave me the fuck alone".

Steve couldn't even stand arguing with you anymore, it was so tiring. But he knew he would blame himself if something ever happened to you out there. He couldn't let this happen to you, even though you've been annoying him for whatever reason.

He took a step towards you, his hands balling into fists. The way your eyes were boring into him in an unamused face irritated him even more.

"Look, honey" His tone was purely sarcastic and you felt it not only in his voice, but in his demeanor too. "You know you're putting yourself at risk doing that. If I'm not fucking sure you're safe as well, I won't live with that".

At each passing second, you could feel him walking to you, but you couldn't walk back. You couldn't run from him, you couldn't get away from him. You wouldn't, you didn't feel like you wanted to.

"And not just because of my friends, they sure would kill me. But because I couldn't lose another person" You feel his breathing hitting your face, his eyes flicking as he looks at you.

He looks down at you with such intensity, it's crazy how there's a magnetic pull towards him.

You hold his gaze, feeling a cold shiver down your spine. He didn't look like he was about to snap at you, even though his tone was a bit loud.

He furrows his brows when he sees your lip curling into a smirk. "Well, Steve" His fingers move by the sound of his name, you always call him Harrington. "I thought you didn't care if I died or not".

This time, he was the one to smirk at you. "Honey, I don't remember saying I never cared about you".

Your stomach sank at that. Because now as you think of it, it comes crashing down as a realization that he never really said anything related to that. He truly never spoke about it.

"Doesn't seem like it"

"You see, this is why you annoy me so much" His nose bumps into yours, but he still gazes at you like he doesn't mean to avoid eye contact.

"Yeah? Then you should–" He doesn't let you finish your sentence.

Steve crashes his lips against yours, his hands flying down your hips. He feels your immediate reaction as you don't correspond right away. For a few seconds, he thinks he's done the wrong thing and almost regrets it, until you grab him by the neck with both hands. You wrap your fingers around his neck, your fingertips grazing the nape of his hair.

Your lips are smacking his lips in a hurry, while he runs a hand to cradle your face. He slips his tongue into your mouth and holds his breath when he feels your tongue moving in sync with him. He doesn't want to admit this is what he wished he could've done before.

Steve has been so stressed lately that he could only think about defeating Vecna. He didn't realize how much you were willing to take care of him these weeks. All he knew was that he also had to take care of you. And this is why he became so angry when you left without him knowing.

Especially because if something did happen to you, he would feel the regret of being an asshole to you.

He rips a low whimper from you when he gently grasps your lower lip by his teeth as he heaves against your mouth. You're both too absorbed into your own feelings, leaving grunts and gripping each other everywhere.

His fingers were digging your skin every time you would kiss his jawline and he was growing eager. He didn't want to look like he was trying to take advantage of you, only noticing now how much you also wanted this.

He then roughly pulls your shirt off, watching as your chest is quickly rising and falling. And his eyes sparkled when he saw your cleavage for the first time like that. Your bra perfectly hugging your round big breasts.

Steve didn't wait any longer, holding your waist and pushing you back against your bed.

That night, he pounded on you just like you dreamed about. He slapped his hips against your ass just like you wished someone would one day. The air was filled with sounds and lust.

You didn't even notice when your friends arrived right after he had an orgasm. You didn't have time to get dressed, only getting caught when Robin opened the door to you both naked. He didn't have time to remove his condom. She saw you naked. And worse. She saw her best friend naked.

And you thought it was going to be awkward, until Eddie turned the awkwardness into "I knew these idiots would fuck".

The night was all about this. They decided to leave the Vecna subject for the next day.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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28harryssunflower · 11 hours ago

Note

Could you maybe do an angsty one with a happy ending? Harry is mistreating/ not putting y/n or the relationship first. He gets defensive at first when y/n brings it up

I didn’t know what era you preferred, so I chose the 2017-ish era. Hope that’s fine! But in the end you can imagine whatever era lol. It’s just about the picture at the top!

Hope it matches your expectations xx

Gone but not forgotten

It wasn’t always like this.

There was a time when Harry made you feel like you were the most important thing in his world. He used to text you first thing in the morning, send you little voice notes throughout the day, and surprise you with coffee when he knew you had a long afternoon ahead. He used to come home and pull you into his arms like he needed you, like you were the best part of his day.

Now? Now, you felt like an afterthought.

It started slow - plans canceled at the last minute, phone calls ignored, messages left on read. Then it became days without a word from him. Nights where he barely acknowledged you. Excuses that felt emptier every time he spoke them.

And it wasn’t just the silence. It was how he treated you when he was home.

When you tried to talk, he barely listened, nodding absently as he scrolled through his phone. When you reached for him, he’d pull away, muttering that he was tired. He didn’t touch you the way he used to, didn’t look at you the way he used to. You felt invisible, like he had already walked out of the relationship but forgot to tell you.

And you tried. God, you tried.

You made his favorite dinners, hoping he’d sit and eat with you instead of disappearing into the bedroom. You asked him about his day, even when he never asked about yours. You pretended it didn’t hurt when he came home late and went straight to bed without so much as a goodnight.

But tonight, something inside you snapped.

It was nearly 2AM when he finally walked through the front door. You sat curled on the couch, staring at your phone, your last unanswered message still on the screen: When are you coming home?

He didn’t even look at you. Just sighed, kicked off his shoes, and dropped onto the couch like he was the one suffering.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, voice tight. “You don’t even look at me anymore.”

Harry barely reacted. Just ran a hand through his curls and muttered, “Not now.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Right. Not now.”

“Can we not do this tonight?” he sighed.

“No, Harry. We are doing this tonight,” you snapped, standing up. “Because I am so tired of feeling like I don’t even exist to you.”

His jaw clenched, but he still wouldn’t look at you. “You’re being dramatic.”

Your heart cracked, but you pushed through. “Dramatic?” Your voice shook with anger. “I never see you. You don’t call, you don’t text, you barely talk to me. You’re home maybe twice a week, and when you are, you don’t even fucking acknowledge me.”

“I’ve been busy,” he muttered.

“Busy?” You let out a hollow laugh. “You’re always busy, Harry. But you’re never too busy for your friends. You’re never too busy for a night out. You’re never too busy to go to some fucking fashion event. You’re only ever too busy for me.”

His eyes snapped to yours, irritation flashing in them. “That’s not true.”

“It is true!” you shot back. “Do you even realize the last time we spent a full day together? The last time we had an actual conversation that wasn’t just me asking for your time?”

Harry rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Christ, I can’t do this right now.”

Your whole body stiffened. “You never want to do this. You never want to talk. You just expect me to sit here and accept the fact that I don’t fucking matter to you anymore.”

His expression darkened. “That’s not fair.”

“No, what’s not fair is how I’ve felt these past few months,” you shot back, your voice rising. “You put everything before me. I feel like I don’t even fucking exist to you anymore!”

“You know that’s not true,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Do I?” You scoffed. “Because every single thing in your life comes first. The studio, the tour, your career, your friends. Fucking Christ, strangers get more of you than I do. I don’t even know if you love me anymore.”

Harry’s face twisted with frustration. “Are you serious right now?”

“Yes! I am dead serious! Because I’ve spent months wondering what the hell I did wrong! If I wasn’t pretty enough, if I wasn’t good enough. If you just fucking stopped loving me and didn’t have the decency to tell me.”

His whole body went still.

You swallowed hard, trying to stop your voice from shaking. “Do you have any idea what that feels like? To sit alone every night, wondering why you’re not enough for the person you love? To look in the mirror and hate yourself because you think you are the problem?” Your breath hitched, the weight of it all crashing down. “And the worst part? You let me. You let me believe that I wasn’t worth your time.”

Silence.

Harry just stared at you, his face pale, his lips slightly parted. He looked like you had just shattered something inside him.

And then the tears came. You broke, a sob ripping through your chest as you clutched your arms around yourself, trying to hold it all in. But then, suddenly, Harry was there.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly. You tensed at first, but then the warmth of his embrace shattered whatever restraint you had left. You collapsed into him, burying your face in his chest, sobbing so hard your whole body shook.

He held you like he was afraid you’d disappear. His hands ran up and down your back, his lips pressed into your hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You clung to him, gripping his hoodie, letting out every tear you had held back for months.

After what felt like forever, your sobs quieted. The exhaustion hit you like a wave, and Harry pulled you down onto the couch with him, tucking you into his chest. His arms stayed wrapped around you like he was afraid to let go.

“I never stopped loving you,” he murmured after a long silence. His voice was hoarse, like he had to force the words out. “I was just so caught up in everything, I- I didn’t see what I was doing to you.” He swallowed hard. “I hate that I made you feel that way. That I made you question yourself.”

You closed your eyes, your body still trembling. “You hurt me, Harry.”

“I know,” he whispered. His grip tightened around you. “I swear to you, I’ll fix this. I’ll fix us.”

You wanted to believe him

For now, you just let yourself breathe in his warmth, hoping that this time, he meant it.

The morning after the argument, you woke up to the sound of quiet movement in the kitchen. For a second, you thought you had imagined it. Harry was never up before you. But when you peeked into the kitchen, there he was.

He was standing by the stove, shirt rumpled, hair a mess, clumsily flipping pancakes.

It wasn’t perfect. There was flour on the counter, a sticky bottle of syrup sitting dangerously close to the edge, and from the slightly burnt smell, it was clear this wasn’t his first attempt. But when he turned around and saw you standing there, something in his face softened.

“Hey,” he said, almost hesitant.

You blinked. “You’re making breakfast?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah. I, uh… I figured you shouldn’t have to wake up alone again.”

Your heart clenched.

You wanted to be mad. Wanted to remind him that one breakfast wouldn’t erase months of neglect. But the sincerity in his voice, the way his green eyes searched yours like he was hoping you wouldn’t push him away - it made something in you thaw, just a little.

So you sat down, letting him serve you the most uneven stack of pancakes you’d ever seen. And when he poured your coffee just the way you liked it, remembering exactly how much sugar to add, you realized: He was trying.

That’s what the next few weeks were.

Small things, big efforts.

At first, it was just tiny changes - goodnight texts when he was at the studio late, longer hugs when he came home, soft kisses pressed into your hair when he thought you were asleep. He started noticing you again. Asking how your day was. Actually listening to your answers.

Then, the changes got bigger.

One night, when you were curled up on the couch scrolling through your phone, Harry sat down beside you and nudged your leg with his knee.

“Let’s go out tomorrow,” he said.

You glanced at him in surprise. “Out?”

“Yeah.” He reached for your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “Like a real date. Dinner, maybe a movie after. Whatever you want.”

You stared at him, half expecting him to say just kidding. But he didn’t. He just looked at you with this quiet determination, like he wanted to do this, like he needed to.

So you said yes.

And when the date actually happened, when he held your hand the entire time and kept stealing glances at you like he couldn’t believe he had let himself drift so far away from you - you felt the smallest flicker of hope.

The intimacy was the last thing to return.

It wasn’t that Harry didn’t touch you - he did. But there was a hesitancy now, a carefulness, like he was afraid to push too soon.

One night, as you lay in bed beside him, staring up at the ceiling, you whispered, “Why are you being so careful with me?”

Harry turned his head, his eyes heavy with guilt. “Because I don’t deserve to hold you the way I used to.”

Your chest tightened.

You turned on your side to face him, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his arm. “I still want you to.”

He swallowed hard. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“You won’t,” you murmured. “Not if you keep trying.”

For a long moment, he just looked at you. Then, slowly, carefully, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face. His touch was hesitant, but when you leaned into it, he let out a shaky breath - like he had been holding it for weeks. Then he softly and carefully connected your lips.

And when he finally pulled you into his arms, holding you close, his lips pressing into the top of your head - you felt, for the first time in a long time, like maybe things could really be okay again.

Not perfect. Not yet.

But better.

And for now, that was enough.

#harry styles #one direction #short story #headcanon #one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n

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taelophone · 1 day ago

Text

Oblivion ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝˚.⋆⋆˙⟡ — Luigi Mangione x Oblivious!Reader ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ CWs: Reader is violently oblivious like so clueless . Corny Flirting . Neurodivergence in Luigi . Slight angst ? ── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ I played w the fourth wall a bit lol

What is she doing to me, man?

I mean, wait wait wait—! Before you switch, just listen to me for a second, okay? I’ve been trying to get with this girl I love for the past three years, and she hasn’t even acknowledged any of my attempts!

If she weren’t into me, I'd expect her to at least bring it up later, right? Ask me to clarify, say she doesn’t see me like that, or god forbid say it makes her feel uncomfortable.

But you haven’t! Every time I make a flirty comment, you just giggle and say I’m too kind! I’ve never once thought I was bad at flirting, but are my lines just not hitting like they used to?

Even now, as I’m walking you home, you’ve got your arm wrapped around mine while I talk about a robotics competition I did when I was fifteen that ultimately changed the course of my life and sparked a permanent interest in computer science. But all that seemed to travel through Luigi’s mind was whether or not you liked him back!

You nodded, hanging onto his every word as the hard rubber soles of your pink Jordan dunks step-step-stepped on the thick and heavy slabs of concrete. He seemed to really like telling you about his interests and achievements— not that you didn’t want to hear about them— but you just wondered why he seemed to love talking about academics so much around you.

But anyway, that’s beside the point. You and Luigi have been great friends for around four years now, and things were just amazing!

He bought you little candles, cute room decor, candy, new shoes, pretty rings, necklaces with your initials, and your favorite flowers all wrapped up in pink parchment! He was the best guy friend a girl could ask for, really, but that was a part of the problem.

He was so amazing in ways that other men in your life had never even come close to being before. From remembering little things about your interests to all the many dollars he had spent on spools of plastic for his 3D printer, gifting you elaborate custom-made plastic trinkets and “forever flowers,” as he liked to call them.

He was smart, funny, witty, and left your mind melting in his wake every time he graced your mornings with a random Starbucks order for you to try. Now perfect is high praise, because everyone has their flaws, but if you had to use the word for anybody it’d be him.

There was no way in the world Luigi had his eyes set on you when there were thousands, hell, millions of women out there that could perfectly complete his complex puzzle of a mind. You weren’t dumb or dull by any means, but there were just better options for your best friend.

It’s fine, really. Not sentimental at all, no no really.

“What are you doing this weekend, by the way?” Luigi asked, his voice cutting through the amalgamation of crazed screams in your mind.

You thought, your lips pursed together in a lopsided pout as you flipped through the mental pages of your planner, each page containing some sort of mental note or red ink until you reached this weekend. Free on Saturday, but only after ten in the morning.

“I’m free this Saturday, but I have to drop a friend from college off at the airport. She’s moving to Kansas, so I should be free any time after, like, ten to ten-thirty. Why?” You asked, your attention suddenly being grabbed by a community garden just up ahead full of pretty pink peonies and daffodils.

He watched as your eyes locked onto the garden and its floral inhabitants. He smiled his usual boyish grin, letting go of your arm momentarily to jog over to the garden before you got a chance to even process what he was doing.

“Luigi—? Luigi, what are you doing!?” You called, standing up on your tip-toes and calling out to him right in the middle of Twenty-fifth Street.

You saw him duck down, his cocoa brown curls disappearing amongst the plant life and greenery. You crossed your arms, waiting for him on the sidewalk like a puppy owner would wait for their eager little Maltese or Pomeranian to return from their burst of energy.

When that familiar face emerged again, he advanced towards you with a handful of freshly plucked flowers. He placed them in your hand with a particularly girly giggle, gently brushing his fingers across the general petals like he wanted to get a feel for their genetic material.

When he was done fluffing up each bloom, he gently placed a hand at the small of your back in a silent urge for you to keep walking.

“I’m not sure if that was illegal or not, we should probably start walking,” he beamed, a light pink dusting the apples of his cheeks as he felt you lace your arm around his firm one again. “But yeah, uh…what was I saying…Oh, right, I wanted to ask if you wanted to spend the day with me at my house. We’d have to go grocery shopping but it sounds fun…in theory.”

You nodded, an amused chuckle leaving your lips as you scurried down the street with Luigi. By now you neared your humble little home, sandwiched in between two other townhouses composed of bricks of vermilion.

“Yeah, sure! Why not. I’m not paying for groceries though,” you joked, reaching in your sweater pocket for your keys.

“You don’t pay for anything, girl…” he chuckled, his brows furrowing together with amusement.

“Well, you don’t let me!” You giggled, patting yourself down from head to toe before you sighed from the depths of your lungs. You left your keys on the kitchen counter.

“I done left my damn keys in the house,” you huffed, shaking your head as if you were disappointed with your laggy mind.

“That’s fine, I have mine,” Luigi added, reaching in his back pocket and pulling out a set of keys attached to a matte-black key fob, a LittleBigPlanet charm, a little heart charm you gave him two years back, and a Ben & Jerry’s discount pendant.

He plucked the only silver key from the jingly set, gently twisting your front door open with a flick of his wrist and a click of the bottom lock.

“Lock your top lock,” he reminded with no real bite in his tone. He raised his brow slightly, a look of feigned disapproval as you giggled back up at him.

“My hero!” You chirped, throwing your arms around his broad shoulders and pretending to swoon over his large muscles. “What would I ever do without you!”

“Stop it,” he chuckled, his sharp canines glimmering in the early afternoon sunlight as your feet hit the ground again. “Get in your house, go.”

You laughed, squishing his muscles one more time before he manually removed your hand from his bicep and turned you around, giving you a playful smack on the behind that sent you yelping into giggles in the doorframe.

“Bye, Luigi,” you mused, leaning against the white archway of your home with a satisfied and impish smile. He chuckled along with you, clipping his keys on his jeans belt loop as he leaned on the opposite side of the door frame.

“Goodbye, culona,” he chuckled, gently pulling your front door closed. “Lock your top lock!”

You smiled, locking both your top and bottom locks following Luigi’s gentle reminder to make sure you’re completely safe when home alone. Once you were sure your door was properly locked, you kicked off your shoes and raced upstairs to your warm and inviting bed.

You stared at the many Polaroids on your white walls; some of them from college or high school, most of them stemming from your solo trips or memories with Luigi. From jumping off of cliffs in Thailand to stuffing each other inside ridiculously small spaces to see how far the other's bones could bend before giving clear warnings of discomfort.

He was the best friend you’ve ever had in a long long time, and you didn’t want to be stupid and jeopardize that. So rather than perusing any sort of connection with Luigi— as tantalizing and coveted as he was.

You sighed, the air rushing in through your nostrils and drying up your mouth as you exhaled. As the tasteless carbon left your lungs, the bitter flavor of unrequited love bit your tongue, the iron taste of heartbreak bringing you back to your sad little senses.

But it’s fine…he’s still around, and after a while, the feelings will gradually fade into sparkles of humor that you’ll be able to sprinkle into daily conversations. A mere powder amongst the storm of dust you would ultimately face later in life— something to laugh about later, and nothing more.

But for now, that wasn’t the main concern. Your goal of the hour was to get your outside clothes off your bed, take a shower, and catch up on some new shows you had been meaning to watch for a while now.

You slipped out of your jeans and top, unclasping the sharp and satanic teeth of your bra and flinging it somewhere around your room before donning a nice soft sweater and shorts. The gentle fleece kissed your skin, bathing you in endless amounts of comfort compared to the cheap polyester-printed textile of some SHEIN shirt you had put on earlier.

You spent the rest of your afternoon through the late evening doing house chores. Folding laundry, doing dishes, sweeping the living room, cleaning yours, and finally getting around to organizing your dresser.

When the house radiated Pine Sol and the scent of Yankee Candle’s Soft Blanket, you took a deep sigh before deciding to take a scalding everything shower that would leave your vision impaired for the next hour. Shave, exfoliate, wash, deep condition, rinse, wash, rinse.

And just like you assumed you would, you stumbled out of the shower lightheaded and dehydrated after battling the demons of self-care. Your baby hairs clung to your forehead, a hot and humid reminder of the war you had won as you wobbled out of the bathroom to slather on some warm vanilla lotion.

You lathered the silky oils across your limbs and soft stomach, sliding on a matching set of blue and white pajamas before settling down at your vanity to do your skincare. No sooner than you sat down, your phone began to ring and chime with your set ringtone for Luigi.

You propped your phone up against the mirror, answering his slightly untimely call as you dabbed gentle amounts of your Curology on your face. “Hey, Lui!”

“Hi pretty,” he sighed, drowsiness evident in his tone.

His face was partially buried in his plush-looking pillow, a singular eye fought to stay open so he could see you on FaceTime. He watched as you slathered your skin shiny with products, serums, eye patches, and deep-moisturizing creams as you smiled at his little comment.

“I literally look like raggedy-Ann and you’re still calling me pretty. You’re too kind,” you chuckled, placing two green brightening eye patches under your eyes. “What’s up?”

“You do…not look raggedy, trust me,” he murmured, a sound that bridged between a scoff and a short chuckle from the front of his tongue. “But I didn’t want anything, I just missed you.”

“Luigi, you just saw me like…five hours ago!” you giggled, checking the time on your metallic alarm clock. “You’re literally gonna see me again in, like, twelve hours.”

“Yeah but I miss you” he frowned, sitting up so his back rested against the black wooden frame of his headboard. “You’ve been gone way too long.”

“Luigi you’re being a baby” you chuckled, placing all your cosmetics, cleansers, and containers in their respective places before grabbing your phone off the vanity and crossing the short distance to your bed.

“See, why are you being mean to me? I call you to say how much I love and miss you and you kick me to the streets?” He joked, his words enunciated by a quirk of his bushy brow.

“I’m not kicking you to the streets, I’m pointing out that you’re being a clingy little pissrat,” you teased, widening your eyes at the camera in faux shock.

“Pissrat is crazy…” he chuckled, a low sigh that drawled from the back of his throat and left his mouth a little drier than before.

You chattered back and forth on FaceTime until about four in the morning, and soon, the daunting revelation that you’d have to be up and out of bed to drive over thirty minutes to the airport and back washed over your brain like cold rainfall. You groaned, throwing your head back in near-violent regret before you exhaled from your nose.

“Are you okay? Hello?” Luigi asked, his brows furrowing together as an expression of slight fear and confusion donned his face. In an effort to placate you, he waved a single hand up and down at the camera in a little “calm down” motion.

“I’m fine, I just didn’t realize it was like…four in the morning. I have to be up in like two hours,” you whined, your eyes screwing shut as you accepted the somnolent fate that awaited you in just a few hours.

“Then get some sleep! Cuz then I have to deal with you in the morning, and you’re gonna be all cranky and irritated, then I’m gonna have to leave you outside…” he sighed, running a hand over his face to mimic genuine distress.

“So charming,” you huffed, flipping him off as your face buried itself into your pillows.

“I charm you every day, you just don’t know it,” he smiled, rolling his eyes in the most disgustingly flamboyant way his muscles could muster. It almost made you gag, both literally and metaphorically.

“Ew, sassy sergeant…” you huffed, flipping him off before blowing air kisses at the camera. “Goodnight!! I’ll see you in like…a couple of hours”

“Goodnight, pretty” he yawned, waving at the camera as his head leaned back against his headboard, the tanned column of his neck on full display.

You chuckled, taking a very obvious FaceTime photo before hanging up and giggling into your pillow. His face was so gorgeous— deep dark cosmos and stardust swam through his eyes, swirling with adoration that could kill you if you got too close.

And when your eyes fluttered shut you dreamed about him and his gentle chivalry. If gallantry was dead, then Luigi would be the very spark of electricity that rose from the ashes.

Sculpted by the clay-sodden hands of a helpless god, desperate to create one last reminder of courtliness in the dawn of decadency. Luigi, the ever-iridescent emerald buried deep in the sediment that aged and preserved his quality, birthing the emerald of Venus— a manifestation of her saintly love.

The slow pattern of your gentle breathing filled the room and slumber soothed the lingering anxiety that sneered and taunted your conscious. In the land of dreams and painless drift, there was nothing that could disturb your mind.

Except for an alarm clock.

The noise was loud, piercing, and obnoxious as your eyes just barely rose, a slow and undead hand reached out for your phone to press the big orange stop button on your phone. With a heavy and half-dead sigh, you arose from your cozy little coffin of a bed and stalked your way to your bathroom to get ready for the morning.

Hot shower, toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, edge brush, and a little bit of warm vanilla perfume were all it took to jumpstart your morning. You grabbed your keys and tossed on some pretty pale blue jeans and a brown zip-up hoodie over a white crop top before you wiggled out the door and headed to your car.

In just a couple of hours, your best friend would be pushing you around a cold supermarket while your limbs dangled out of a near-filthy shopping trolley as you mindlessly knocked things off the shelf that would come crashing on top of you.

The casual intimacy of it was almost domestic— it was like shopping with your life-long partner. The few times you had shopped with him before had usually ended up with you eating ingredients with him on his couch while he word vomited about the nutritional value of the different kinds of snacks you had bought.

But you focused on the now, helping your cousin load her bags into your trunk right after you pulled into her driveway. When you finished, you dusted your hands off on your thighs and shut the trunk with a heavy thud before checking your phone after ignoring it ever since you silenced your alarm.

mario💚

‘ Good morning <3 Have fun driving your cousin. Tell her I said hi! Btw I think we’re gonna go to Whole Foods. ‘

You giggled to yourself, hearting the message before shoving your phone into your back pocket to climb in the front seat.

“Ooh, who got you smiling like that? Is it Luigi?” She asked, poking at your shoulder with a giddy grin.

“Chill, chill…Maybe,” you chuckled, pulling back out of the driveway a little messier than you would have liked to admit.

“Aw shit…we’re gonna crash and we ain’t even make it on the road yet. Lord take us, on her soul we ready,” She teased, throwing her hands halfway up in faux prayer.

“I should’ve left you in the house, on YOUR soul,” you fired back, a half-hidden smirk clawing its way to your face as you set your GPS.

“Didn’t you go to one of those fuck ass frat parties with him a couple years ago?” She asked, pulling out her mascara wand from her purse and touching up her lashes.

“Yeah, it was lowkey trash…like there was no personal space and music was shit. But I was really drunk so it got better,” you nodded, tossing on the radio to hopefully divert her attention from your best friend to something different.

“Man, if y'all don’t get married already,” she huffed, slamming the black mascara closed like the idea of your unattached state irritated her— skin-deep.

“He’s definitely not into me, but go off,” you chuckled, shaking your head at the childish fable she just proposed.

She stared at you, sharp from the corners of her eyes before a small scoff pushed past her lips. “A’ight, girl, whatever you say…”

The rest of the ride was spent jabbering about different topics before it was time to say your goodbyes, watching her disappear behind the glassy doors of the airport. After you confirmed that she had gotten situated inside, you took some time to text Luigi back.

“good morning ! :) omw rn just dropped her off. She says hey”

- Loved by Mario💚

You spent roughly forty-five minutes in your car, driving all the way from the airport over to Luigi’s with your music at a comfortable volume. You barely even had time to pull into a parking spot before the front door slowly came open to reveal your best friend twirling his keys around his pointer finger.

He waved, his sculpted arm flailing with excitement as you pulled up next to his house. You waved back, eagerly scrambling out of the car with a huge grin.

“Lu!” You beamed, jogging over to where he stood on his front porch and giving him a rather grand hug.

“Hi, pretty,” he squeaked, his strong arms wrapping around the small of your back and squeezing you into oblivion. Your sneakers dangled above the pavement, a shocked little chuckle rushing from your lips before he sat you back down on the ground.

“Alright, let’s go to Whole Foods, you can pick out some stuff too. I’ll pay” he smiled, making his way to his car with a very jolly pep in his step.

“I’ve never seen a man so excited about groceries,” you murmured, giggling at his little wiggly walk.

“No, I’m just really excited to see the most beautiful woman in the world,” he smiled, opening the passenger door for you with a boyish glint in his eye.

“Oh stop, I’m not paying for your groceries, Luigi,” you chuckled, giving him a shy smile before climbing into the passenger seat.

“No, that’s not what— oh you’re so…” he chuckled before closing your door oh so gently.

I mean, it wasn’t like his flirting was any type of concealed. He was trying everything! Italian nicknames, food, chivalry, casual compliments, everything!

But you just…didn’t notice. Sigh.

The ride to the grocery store was full of giggles, friendly flirting, and little side remarks about Luigi’s shitty driving skills— those for which he blamed your presence.

“I can’t help it! You keep laughing, and it’s making the car swerve. Siren song…all your fault,” he tutted, shaking his head in faux disapproval.

“I don’t know man…I think you just can’t drive. Might be because you’re Italian,” you joked.

“Okay racism, go off girl!” He beamed, snapping a very homosexual finger with a little face you could only categorize as flamboyant ferocity.

“Mamma Mia!” You sighed, shaking your head in feigned resignation.

“I will crash this car, don’t play with me,” he teased.

“Shocked you haven’t already,” you sighed.

When you reached Whole Foods, you practically bolted out of the car as you charged to find a big shopping trolley that you’d make Luigi push you around in. You hopped over the thin metal bars, the cart clattering underneath you as you boarded it with near-lethal aggression.

“See, look. Crashing carts and all you did was sit down. Lord, take her, she’s ready,” he joked, his hands wrapping around the handle and pushing you into the store as you shifted your limbs to accommodate for the tiny space.

He pushed you through each aisle, letting you lean over and sweep things into the trolley with little regard for what you were even picking. Mango ice cream, tortilla chips, some fancy goat's cheese, pocky, and a bunch of cherry turnovers with golden brown puff pastry.

The various snacks and ingredients began to pile on top of you, your midriff and bust while Luigi read off his little grocery list on his phone. He paused, looking down at you before giggling quietly, bonking your head with a blue box of fettuccine.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he giggled, pinching the bridge of your nose with his middle knuckles on his pointer and middle finger. “I think we got everything…I see you got yourself some snacks…” he mused, his eyes widening slightly.

“I had a moment,” you said, clutching a brown bag of lime tortilla chips that crinkled and crunched under the pressure from your arms.

“I see” he chuckled, pushing you over to check out and ringing everything up— freeing you from your crunchy cage of various kinds of sustenance.

He paid for your things, positioning the four reusable tote bags next to you in the cart as close as he could without squishing you to death. It was more of a task than it would seem, considering the cart was barely big enough to fit all of your being.

But for you, he made it work.

“Alright, let’s go do stupid shit at the house. I think we can try and make like…a vegan cake,” he murmured, rolling you out of the supermarket with an unserious smile.

“Vegan cake? Nah, you were right earlier. Lord, it’s my time, I’m ready,” you sighed, throwing your arms out in feigned disappointment.

“Stop it, vegan food is good for the body and brain,” he murmured, raising a brow at your innocent hatred for his idea of vegan baked goods.

“The only thing that goes into a cake that’s vegan is the flour…yeah nah. We can make vegan parfaits though. Or just eat carrots. Or just not eat?” You smiled.

“Actually, what did you eat today?” He asked, stopping the trolley in front of the car And unloading the bags into the trunk.

“Actually I didn’t eat anything yet,” you hummed, the realization just now setting in as you dangled your calves out of the little cart.

He paused, staring at you with a raised brow like you had just spewed a line of blasphemy. He closed the trunk with a heavy thunk and shook his head before scooping you out of the trolley.

“Yeah, no, that’s not an option…” he chuckled, placing you in front of the passenger seat and pulling open the door for you once again.

You giggled, getting as cozy as you wanted, even propping your heels up on the dashboard. When Luigi found his way to the driver's seat after shutting your door, he tossed a bag containing a cherry turnover at your head with one command.

“Eat. You’re hurting my goddess. You know what that’s called? Blasphemy. Shame on you, depriving a god like that…” he smirked, the engine of his lovely white Toyota Corolla. “How’s your cousin by the way?”

“Oh she’s doing great,” you said in between bites, being extra careful to not get crumbs in Luigi’s car— as eating was something he barely allowed inside of his precious vehicular baby.

“She was a little annoying today though. She said we should get married, but I thought that was weird because we obviously aren’t like that,” you chuckled. “I think she thinks you’re like…in love with me.”

He sighed, long and heavy from the depths of his lungs, his forehead resting on the black and slightly worn leather of the steering wheel as his hands gripped its top. You expected him to be annoyed for you, to pop his head back up and say something that would refute the claim with an uncomfortable chuckle.

“Alright, come on,” he groaned, his head now gently hitting against the steering wheel before he turned to look at you again with furrowed brows and a clenched jaw.

“Am I not your type? Am I too clingy? What is it, love,” he sighed. Wait what? Is he acting…? What is he talking about right now?

“Wait what…Luigi, what are you talking about?” You asked, slowly wrapping up your cherry-tasting pastry back in its plastic.

“Hi! Hello! Look at me, please,” he said, putting the car back in park and cupping your face in his hands. He looked like he was at his breaking point, the blows and slams you had taken to his fragile little heart unknowingly beginning to show on the map of his Sicilian features.

“I love you. So so much. Like, I’ve been trying to throw hints since like twenty-nineteen. I am VERY in love with you, stay with me, now,” he enunciated slowly, letting you mirror his body language as you nodded slowly.

“As we speak I’m letting you eat in my car, knowing it makes my skin crawl! I have a key to your house! You have a key to mine! My call log is literally just you…What is it, please just tell me. Are you not into me? Are you genuinely unaware…?” He whispered, his eyes dangerously close to crossing like he was in physical pain from saying this out loud.

“Oh my god, I had no idea…” You gasped, wrapping both of your hands over Luigi’s wrists, your thumbs flitting over his carpal bones with the gentleness of a newborn swan with their eyes freshly open to perceive the colors around them.

He sighed, a self-pitying chuckle tumbling from his lips before he began squishing and pinching your cheeks. You weren’t sure if it was to self-soothe, or if this was his alternative for shaking you senseless.

“Okay…This is me formally asking. May I have the honor of being your boyfriend?” He asked, a tired smile on his face as he gave you a half-nod.

“Of course, Lu,” you laughed, kissing the tip of his nose with a bright smile.

“Oh thank fuck, I was gonna cry,” he sighed, kissing your squished-up cheeks before settling back in the driver's seat.

And after he pulled out of the driveway of Whole Foods, his cheeks tinted cherry with a fine dusting at the tip of his nose, he could rest easy knowing that he was finally out of the friendzone.

Ignorance is bliss, and you were one blissful woman.

Taglist is coming <3

#luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione thoughts #luigi mangione x you #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione x y/n #luigi mangione fluff #luigi mangione x yn #luigi mangione imagine

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