#I don’t know if I should comment on the one part in the middle or the ending part so I just. won’t

[holdinbacksecrets]

lake house — l.dh

situationship to almost lovers. short, sticky, and hopefully sweet. suggestive, 18+ wc: 1.2k

he’s the only one awake when you head downstairs for a glass of water.

moonlight paints the walls, brushes the end of the couch, and fails to give away any part of his tall frame sitting at the dining table.

he watches you walk past him wearing a t-shirt and nothing else. your braids fall down your back with a scarf wrapped around your head to prevent frizz. the sweet, familiar notes of your perfume linger in your wake.

he watches you stand on your tippy toes as the t-shirt clings to your curves while you reach for the highest shelf. when you’re about to climb onto the countertop, he speaks up.

“i don’t think you should do that if you aren’t wearing any underwear.”

the volume of donghyuck’s voice is quiet, just loud enough for you to hear, and he’s right. you aren’t wearing any underwear. you don’t bother commenting on the silence he existed in until this moment as it sets in he was likely watching you.

you fall back on your heels, motioning to him and then nodding to the displayed dishware out of reach. he runs his fingers through his hair before rising from the seat to help you. donghyuck extends a glass in one hand and a mug in the other—take your pick.

in the next moment, you’re filling the glass before he places the mug beneath the flowing faucet, standing so close that his warmth softens the coolness on your skin. someone left the window open, but it’s above a sleeping friend. there’s no use trying to close it.

you’re side by side, and it’s natural to rest your head against his frame in between sips and the necessary gulps. you want to know what he thinks about you. if the reason he was excited about this weekend has anything to do with seeing each other again.

the two of you are good at waiting and hoping the other will finally bend, wondering how long it’ll take before a give in. secretly, he never plans on waiting longer than four days. perhaps the fifth day once midnight strikes. you haven’t figured that out yet, giving in by day two or experiencing the relief when he calls on the third day. perhaps he’s lying about his little rule.

he sets the mug in the sink and brushes his thumb across the side of your neck, just above a constellation of moles. he’s kissed the spot more times than you can count, and the craving for his euphoria slithers beneath your skin, starting in your chest before coiling down your body.

you lift your glass again to fill your cheeks. he smiles at the sight. you’re adorable yet so incredibly sexy in this moment. donghyuck doubts you have any idea how easily you exist in the middle of his favorite venn diagram.

your glass joins his mug, and you look up at him. your height difference is exciting and comforting and leaves you feeling safe as can be in his presence. you daydream about the feeling of his chin on the top of your head, wondering how much time would pass before he’s kissing your hairline.

“come to bed with me?” his eyes widen for a moment, and you feel a wave of his vulnerability mist you in the darkness. the glowing light from the stove is all you have to work with. he’s nervous.

you nod, interlacing fingers with his and walking backwards for a moment before you turn to lead the way.

at the stairs, he walks beside you, hyper aware of your chosen pajamas and not wanting to see something you haven’t given him consent to view. it’s been two weeks since he’s seen you naked.

donghyuck’s bedroom is three doors past yours. he got lucky with the window seat and angled ceiling. he feels so far removed from the rest of the house with a beautiful view of the water.

his bedding is plaid, and the room feels rustic in comparison to the delicate details within your own, accompanied by pastel blues and yellows.

you can see him much clearer in the soft glow from the nightstand’s lamp. he’s wearing black joggers you recognize and a white t-shirt. his hair is still damp and stubble peppers his chin. in an impulsive moment, you’re touching his face, tracing the shape of his nose, the contour of his cheek, and the arch of his brow before brushing your thumb across his lips. they part beneath your touch. you smile, existing in this feeling donghyuck always creates for you and remembering how unnatural it used to feel—surprised by the comfort despite your still short time in each other’s lives.

now, months have passed of getting to know—unraveling without judgment. his secrets are kept securely in your mind. vulnerable memories are cherished in your heart. the way he makes you feel is savored by your soul and replayed in your dreams. intimate explorations you’ve experienced together are reminisced in quiet moments when you’re alone, admiring the new, golden hues in your reflection.

he’s indulging in these wee hours of the morning with you. he hasn’t said anything since his hopeful question, and you’re ok with that. you feel like all the words are out in the open anyway. you believe they are when he leans forward to kiss you.

donghyuck pulls you against him. your chest meets the base of his sternum. you moan at the feeling of your mouths moving together, missing these soft collisions, but the kiss remains gentle and slow without urgency. his tongue is a ghost, barely meeting your own. his hands stay on either side of your face while your own grip his shirt.

donghyuck pulls away to explore your neck and jaw before his lips touch your eyelids. he smiles then. your heart is about to burst, and you wait for the final kiss that’s bound to find your lips.

and it does.

“i’ve missed you,” his words pass through an exhale.

he’s sitting on the bed while you stand between his legs with your fingers in his hair. your lips continuously meet his forehead, filling the void that grew during your time apart. donghyuck asks about your journey up and how the trip went. he tells you you can drive home with him—he insists you do.

when he rests his face against your stomach, you wonder if he’s ok. “hyuck?”

“mmm?”

“is something wrong?”

“just missed you. didn’t know if you’d be here. wish i would’ve asked.” he’s been in his head about you.

“you can always ask.”

“i know that.” if he picked up the phone, he would’ve told you he’s in love with you.

“we have the whole weekend together.”

“how long will it be before everyone is sick of us?” he had to kiss you. of course he wanted to, but the words were bubbling up again. every time he thought to pull away, they danced on his tongue.

“i’m in the clear—making banana bread in the morning. join me?”

“as long as you’re wearing pants.”

he feels your stomach tighten as you laugh, and it’s heaven. he squeezes your hip and leans back, rearranging the pillows so you can join him.

“i didn’t expect to run into anyone downstairs tonight, and i’m so used to living alone… but i’ll wear pants. don’t worry about that.” you lean in and kiss him as a promise, tucking your legs beneath the covers.

you fall asleep talking about the sky—you’re so excited to see the sunrise in the morning over the lake. donghyuck sets an alarm so you don’t miss it, traces i love you against your forearm to see what it feels like and falls asleep too.

#haechan fic #haechan oneshot #haechan imagines #haechan scenarios #haechan x reader #haechan x black reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream blurbs #nct fic #donghyuck x reader #donghyuck imagines

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Called to Duty 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You’re tired. You’re always tired these days, but you gotta do what you gotta do. That’s going to be your life from now on. Not what you want, but what you need.  

You wait in line at the grocery store. Their in-store sourdough isn’t as good as the bakery but you can’t spare the extra dollars. You have your essentials; chicken, rice, some broth for those days when you can’t quite keep solid food down. Some fruits too for the mornings, and a sneaky pack of cookies. 

The woman behind the counter packs up here bag. She rubs her hip as you swipe your card, as if she can feel your pain. You suppose she has few aches and pains from years of standing behind that till. She hands you your receipt and asks if you need help. It’s two bags, nothing too heavy. You slide them into the rolling bag you dragged down with you and head out. 

You’re almost breathless as you get through the front doors. You get dizzy spells but the doctor says it’s just a dip in your blood pressure. You sit on a bench outside the grocery store and rub your stomach as you wait for it to pass. 

As you close your eyes against the springtime sunlight, a familiar tone nestles behind your ear. The timbre sends a shiver up your spine and your hug your middle out of instinct. You don’t look over as Thor’s rolling baritone wafts through the air. 

You stand and pull your bag in the other direction, as fast as you can. The wheels hit a line in the pavement and twists, the handle falling from your hand. It clatters to the ground and you hurried scramble to pick it back up as an apple rolls close to the top. You squat halfway and lift the handle, glancing over as silence pervades. 

Your eyes meet his and you cringe. You quickly turn away as he pulls the phone away from his ear and tilts his head. You touch your stomach again. Did he notice? Did he care? He hadn’t before. 

“Eh, been a while, kitten,” he purrs after you as his footfalls quickly descend, “where are you off to?” 

You ignore him, turning towards the curb as you look up and down the street. You need to get out of here. He stands beside you and you flinch as he puts his hand on your lower back. 

“Why’re you running away?” He says. 

You scoff, “don’t tell me I’m the one running away.” 

You drop your arm and drag the bag off the curb and across the street, as quickly as you can move yourself. You know he’s following. You know him better than he thinks you do. You turn down towards the pharmacy. 

“You look good. Healthy,” he remarks, “you’ve... filled out.” 

“Get away from me,” you hiss. 

“Don’t be rude. I’m just checking in on you, as any good person should.” 

You stop short and face him defiantly. His cheek dimples and reflects a memory back at you. The day you told him. The day he asked who you thought the father was. The day he shrugged off his responsibility on the back of rumours. 

‘Couldn’t possibly be mine. How could you know for sure? How could anyone?’ 

That grin. That taunting grin. 

“You shouldn’t be worried about being a good person, you should be a good father,” you sneer, a crack in your voice. “And you are neither.” 

He laughs, “you always were dramatic, kitten, but the way you meow for me... I hear the hormones make you wild--” 

He reaches to touch your cheek and you swat him away, “don’t.” 

“One last time, for old time’s sake,” he coaxes. 

“You are so gross,” you snip. 

“You can’t be mad at me because you opened your legs--” 

You push him. Stupidly. You shove him in the stomach with one hand. He barely reacts as you turn and stomp away with your groceries rolling at your heels. 

Your eyes sear hotly as you swallow back the protest. It was only him. There was no other possibility. No one believes. Who knows who she slept with? She was always down at the bar, wasn’t she? 

“I miss those claws, kitten,” he calls after you. 

You grit your teeth and storm towards the brick facade of the pharmacy. You shake as you try to fish out your keys. You let go of the rolling bag in frustrating as you dig down in your purse. The cart falls over again and your keyring jangles out onto the pavement with it. 

You let out a grunt and stand, staring at the catastrophe as the apple rolls out of the bag. You lower your head and steel yourself for the reach. Even at four months, with just a bit of belly, everything is so uncomfortable. 

A thick hand scoops up the keys then the apple. Sy hooks two fingers around the handle of the bag and stands. You look at him, lip quivering, and quickly bat away your tears. You dab your eyes with your knuckles. 

“Here,” he stands the bag up and drop the apple inside, then holds out your keys. 

You sigh, “you.” 

He frowns as you take the keyring, “me? I was only helping--” 

“Yeah, because you feel bad for me. Please,” you shove your keys in the door, “don’t.” 

“Feel bad? No. That’s not why... I... people should help each other. Especially those in need.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I need to close my legs. I need to figure it out,” you huff and pull the bag through the door and shove it through, “thanks. I’m good.” You take a step inside and stop, angling back to him, “you forgot your stuff at the pharmacy. They’re holding it at customer service--” 

“It’s yours--” 

“Stop,” you put a hand up, “okay? Just stop. You can go get your money back then.” 

His thick brows draw together and he grazes his hand over his buzzed hair, “I saw you talking to Thor.” 

You snort, “yeah, I ran into your buddy. So what?” 

He crosses his arms and shifts his stance, his works boots dragging loudly, “you’re mad at him.” 

You close your eyes and suck in a breath, “I don’t want to talk about this, especially with you. Fine, go back to him, tell him how pathetic I am--” 

“Why would I do that?” He sounds genuinely confused. 

“I’m not stupid. You were always down at The Horn together. Whatever this is, I’m not falling for it.” 

He squints then looks past you. Your turn and inch the door towards the frame. He steps forward and slaps a hand against the other side, holding it open. 

“He is not a man or a friend if he’s done this to you,” he says. You arch a brow as his blue eyes meet yours, “you deserve better.” 

He eases the tension in his arm as you lean on the door. He lets it snap shut and you wince at the click. You grasp the latch but don’t turn it as you listen through the wood. The friction of his hand drags down the wood. 

“I will give you better,” you barely make out his mutters as the tread of his boot scrapes on the pavement. You twist the lock and fall back against the wall. What is he doing? It has to be a trick. It has to.

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #drabble #series #au #backwoods au #sandcastle #called to duty

[fckoffjakegyllenhaal]

regina’s puppy (1)

// regina has a soft spot for you, but when she refuses to accept why, someone else might swoop in and take your attention away from her. //

warnings: mean!regina (not to reader), protective!regina, oblivious/innocent!reader, pinning, mutual pining but reader thinks it’s one-sided, use of “y/n”.

regina george definitely has a soft spot for you. if you ask her, she’d refer to it as a weak spot; resembling more like an invisible bruise inside of her that only you could see. you’d push and push it, til it bruises some more. until she’d sickly do just about anything you ask. it wasn’t a secret either; regina could be in the middle of being the worst human being on campus, and you’d just walk up to her with those big eyes of yours.

“hey gina!”

“did you see the new shake flavor at sonic? wanna ditch and go?”

“i stayed up all night reading the bell jar!”

regina would shift her undivided attention onto you within a millisecond, and you didn’t even realize it. you were so obliviously innocent. you didn’t have an underlying reason for getting close to the queen bee, you just caught her reading a book one day and started talking her ear off about it. the blonde, who got pure joy out of making girls like you cry, for some reason didn’t have it in her to tell you to fuck off or call you a dork. there was something about you that regina couldn’t quite place; it was something that made her heart flutter in her chest.

maybe it didn’t fully hit regina just how bad she had it for you until junior year. it was the middle of fall, and you had rushed up to her with a pair of sad eyes. “hey gina.” you greet her, but it isn’t your usual eager greeting. regina looks away from the mirror in her locker, looking at you. her brows furrow and a wave of concern washed over her, as she realizes you appear upset. “what’s wrong?” she demands, not even bothering to say hi back. “stacy matthew’s said i can’t be in debate club. she says i’m really nice and that’s not what they’re looking for.” you admit, and regina can feel the rage course through her before she slams her locker shut.

“where the fuck does stacy matthew’s get off telling you that you can or can’t be in debate club? she’s a fucking dork. come on.” she grabs your wrist and your eyes widen, shaking your head in protest but the blonde is already set on giving the raven haired girl a piece of her mind. nobody was going to make you sad and get away with it. “gina it’s okay i—“ you try but regina is already turning down the hallway, making her way up to a random group of students. they all go quiet as soon as regina is near. “where’s matthew’s?” regina questions demandingly, causing one of the students to nearly begin to tremble.

“st-stacy? she’s in the library i think—“ regina doesn’t even let the poor girl finish before she’s dragging you in the direction of the library. you weren’t really sure what you were expecting when you told regina about why you got rejected from the debate club, but this certainly wasn’t it. you weren’t expecting her to storm into the library. “everyone out.” she commands, and just like that, every student in the library is scurrying out. “not you.” the blonde hisses as she glowers at stacy who was in the middle of gathering her belongings. you watch the girl tense up, freezing, and a part of you feels guilty because of how terrified she looks.

“so it’s come to my attention that you think your dorky little debate club is too good for y/n…” regina trails off, and stacy’s eyes widen as her gaze flutters over to you. “don’t look at her for help, look at me.” regina snaps her fingers in stacy’s face; her behavior should cause you to be horrified, yet you can’t deny the heat at the bottom of your belly that comes from watching regina defend you. “it’s not— i didn’t say we were too good, i said she was too nice, regina. you know it too, that’s why you’re here debating for her.” stacy’s comment causes you to look down at your shoes, knowing she isn’t wrong.

“y/n is smarter than you will ever be. her gpa is higher than yours, and she had better exam grades last year. she doesn’t need to be a cunt to debate, she just has to be right… and she always is. you didn’t deny her a spot in your club because she’s too nice. you’re afraid she’s better than you.” regina hits her right where it hurts, and the way stacy’s face morphs into an ugly angry expression causes your eyes to widen. you had actually believed stacy when she said you were too nice for debate club, but now as you watch her react to regina’s accusations, you realize she only said that because she didn’t want you in the club at all.

“i’ll give you the rest of tonight to reconsider giving her a spot on the debate team. if you don’t, i have no control over whether or not the club gets banned… i mean, considering my parents are the ones who fund it.” regina puts on her best falsified sorry expression, and it causes stacy’s eyes to widen at the threat. her eyes lock with yours before regina clasps a hand around your wrist. she drags you out of the library, muttering angrily as she does so. “ugh, the nerve of that fucking bitch.” regina sounds genuinely upset, and you frown.

“you didn’t have to do that…” you whisper, barley being able to find your voice. she comes to a stop, turning around to face you with a deadly serious expression etched onto her features. “i did because you would’ve just let it go. she can’t just act like the queen of debate club; even the cheerleaders started being inclusive!” regina rambles a bit, and you can’t stop yourself from giggling. “yeah but i’m pretty sure debate club is all stacy matthew’s has. it’s fine. i mean, it’s not fine, but it’s clearly more important to her.” you shrug easily and regina huffs in clear frustration.

“that’s exactly why people think you’re too nice! you can’t just let people do or say whatever they want to you, and just let it go! just twelve minutes ago you wanted to cry about it.” regina points out, and you press your lips together. “if i held on to it every time someone upset me, i’d be a really sad person.” you confess lightly, but this does nothing to ease regina’s anger. “well, i’ll hold on to it for you. she’s going in the burn book.” regina mutters the last part, making you a quirk a brow at her. “the burn book?” you question, and she purses her lips tightly, realizing she might have said to much.

“it’s just this thing the girls and i have been working on…” regina’s demeanor shifts, and your brows knit together. “you and the girls? as in gretchen and karen? can i see?” you ask hopefully, and regina shakes her head quickly “no way.” she answers, and as soon as she sees you deflate, a look of disappointment taking over your features, she relents. “it’s not finished yet, and it’s kind of a secret…” she trails off, “i promise i won’t tell anyone! at all! not even riley.” you promise, mentioning your best friend who’s being home schooled this year. regina chews on her bottom lip; she’s well aware the burn book is just a harsh joke her and her friends came up with. but she isn’t sure whether you’d think it’s funny or not.

though regina can’t seem to be able to tell you no. “okay, but most of it was gretchen.” she lies as she begins to lead you towards the exit of the school. karen and gretchen furrow their eyebrows in clear confusion as they watch their best friend leave with you. even though school ended almost half an hour ago, usually regina would opt to hang out with the plastics. sometimes she even just stayed after school to “ogle” the football team during practice. but here regina was, leaving school with you. sure, her friends knew about her weird tolerance of you… but now you were hanging out?

“wait are we going to your house?” you ask uncertainly as you both approach her expensive car. she flashes you a look that says “duh”, “that’s where the book is.” she states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “shouldn’t you call your mom and ask her for permission for me to come over?” you inquire timidly, and although the butterflies in her stomach flutter due to how adorable you are, she rolls her eyes feigning annoyance. “she doesn’t care. get in, loser.” she commands, and you immediately obey; getting into the passenger side.

regina’s car smells like her perfume, and the backseat is messy. “your moms so cool for letting you drive by yourself with just your permit.” you say out loud and regina shrugs, “she’s alright.” she mutters as she hands you her phone. “pick a song.” she insists and your cheeks flush. “o-okay.” the way you stutter causes you to mentally facepalm, but regina finds it hard to stifle a smile at how cute she finds you. you put on a taylor swift song, and she snorts, “so cliche.” she says, her eyes unusually soft, as the sky and your heart does this pathetic little lurch at the sight of her smiling. regina looks so beautiful when she smiles; it almost makes you forget how she almost made stacy matthew’s piss herself a little while ago.

regina’s house is even bigger than you imagined. you knew her family was rich, but you didn’t think they were this wealthy. your eyes are as big as dinner plates as you look around the house. as soon as you walk in you can hear regina’s little sister in the living room; practicing dance routines in front of the tv. “ignore her that’s my sister kylie. everything she does, i did it first.” regina retorts simply, and you raise your brows as you follow her through her house. “hi honey! i made lunch— oh, who’s this?” a woman who you assume is regina’s mom comes out of the kitchen.

she’s wearing tight leggings and a top that barely covers anything. regina grimaces at the sight of her mom, “this is my friend, y/n. we’re gonna be upstairs for awhile. don’t bother us.” she warns harshly, and you offer the older woman a bashful smile. “it’s nice to meet you, mrs. george.” you let out before regina pulls you up the stairs, and towards her room. “your mom seems… nice.” you say as nicely as you can, and she scoffs. “she’s totally embarrassing. she lives vicariously through me.” she deadpans as you both walk into her bedroom.

her room is exactly how you imagined it. it’s pink and girly; there are various posters of celebrities on the walls. her bed was huge. “your room is so cool!” you exclaim, and she tries to fight the grin tugging at her lips. “it’s okay. i’ve been meaning to redecorate it, but i’m gonna make gretchen do it.” regina snickers and you giggle. “that’s mean.” you halfheartedly respond, and she tenses up. she wonders if you’ll laugh that way when you see the burn book. even though you aren’t in it, she isn’t sure if anyone you know is.

“so where’s the book?” you ask curiously as you take a seat on the corner of her bed. regina’s smile falls as she keeps her back to you, she reluctantly disappears into her closet, only to reappear with a big pink book in her hands. your eyes light up as she makes her way over to you, and sits by you. “you have to promise you won’t leave after reading this.” she states stringently, making you pause. you look at her in confusion, “it’s just… this book is like a fucked up version of the year book. we make fun of all the girls from school in it.” she admits hesitantly, and your face falls.

“am… am i in it?” you quietly ask, and regina shakes her head rapidly. “no! no, you’re not.” she promises and you nod. “okay, so why would i get mad?” you question, and regina sighs as she opens the book. you begin to read all of the cruel things her and her friends write about other girls. when you get to the part where regina makes fun of becky martin for getting a bob freshman year, you involuntarily giggle. suddenly there’s this lightbulb that lights up above her head.

“y/n, you should sit with me at lunch tomorrow.” she says, and you tense up, prying your eyes away from the burn book to look at regina. “you mean with you and the plastics?” you ask uncertainly, and regina rolls her eyes. “why does everyone call them that?” she mutters, and you shake your head. “because you’re all perfect like plastic barbie dolls.” you answer simply, and this causes the blonde to quirk her eyebrows to her hairline. “you think gretchen and karen are perfect?” she asks with a scoff, and you nod quickly. “duh! you’re all so… pretty. everyone knows girls like me don’t sit at the “it” table.” you half joke, and regina rolls her eyes.

“i decide who sits at that table, and i’m deciding you’re sitting there with us from now on.” regina stringently states, her tone indicates she’s up for no debates. “we’ll start by giving you a makeover.” she declares, as she gets up. “come on, we’re going to the mall.” she adds, and you throw her an “are you serious” sort of look. “gina… i really don’t think that’s a good idea.” you try, but she pulls you off the bed, and onto your feet. “i’m already picturing how cute you’d look in bellbottoms.” she says, as she drags you out of her bedroom, the burn book long forgotten.

“i can’t buy bellbottoms! they’re like forty bucks a pair!” you stress, as regina leads you down the stairs, never once letting go of your hand. “i have my dads card, relax.” she assures you easily, and you frown, but don’t protest. you know better than to try and argue with regina, especially when you’d let her get away with anything and you think she knows it.

regina ends up spending over four hundred dollars on you, much to your dismay. no matter how much you protest, or try to secretly put items back, she was hellbent on giving you a makeover. thankfully regina claimed you had flawless features that didn’t need makeup, so you avoided the makeup stores altogether. when regina drops you off at your house, you have a hand full of shopping bags and you have to rush to your room in secrecy. fortunately your brothers are too transfixed with some horror video game, and your older sister was nowhere to be seen.

as soon as you’re in the privacy of your bedroom, you let out a little breath. today was the strangest day ever. you were used to your strange friendship with regina, but it was usually only a few meaningful conversations here and there. regina george was never full on “queen bee” around you for some reason, but she had never defended you like she did today. a part of you felt bad about telling regina what stacy did, but the way the blonde threatened the debate teams captain for you made your heart flutter.

tomorrow you were having lunch with regina and “the plastics”; you had to pick an outfit before you went to sleep which was out of the ordinary for you. you’ve never been the type to get ready for school, but there’s this insistent need to impress regina that you suddenly have. the way she ogled you when you had tried on the out of character outfits made your stomach tingle. the nerves in your body only increase as you think about it. as you stare at the various shopping bags, you know there’s no going back now; you feel indebted to regina george.

#regina george #regina george x fem!reader #regina george x reader #regina george mean girls #renee rapp x reader #renee rapp #renee rapp x fem!reader #regina george x reader angst #mean girls #regina george x y/n #regina george x you

[nathaslosthershit]

The Truth Behind It All

Summary: Charles didn't cheat on his ex with his current gf, but due to not wanting to cause further issues with his ex, he can't really come out and give the true story.

The speculation had started to get out of hand. Suddenly, comment sections became bombarded with the most disgusting and hateful things she had ever heard. But Charles’ comment sections remained fine, as long as he didn’t post her. Sure, his pr team was most likely deleting anything on there that wasn’t positive, but compared to his girlfriend’s page, he still had tons and tons of love. 

She understood it, somewhat. She knew she would never support someone who cheated on their partner. But that isn’t what happened with her and Charles. After his unexpected break up with his ex following her own affair, he went out drinking that same night. Charles had always said it was a blessing that ‘his darling found him then’, when he was at his lowest, and had been his saving grace. There was no cheating on his part.

Charles hadn’t noticed the change in behavior coming from his girlfriend. He had been away for the weekend for some work related events. Her texts didn’t particularly seem off, but they were only words, it was easy to fake enthusiasm through messages. He should have checked in sooner given what he had seen on twitter.

The house was dark and quiet when Charles got back. It seemed to be unoccupied until he made it to their shared bedroom and saw his girlfriend under the covers. 16:00 was an unusual time to be asleep, but he soon realized she was awake as sniffles became audible in the once silent room. 

“Darling, what is wrong, huh? I thought you would be happier to see me” He teased, trying to get a feel for the situation. 

She didn’t respond. She didn’t even sit up.

“Honey? Come on, what is bothering you?” He cooed as he knelt by her side.

“As much as you say it, you aren’t stupid, Charles, you know what's wrong.” He finally got a good look at her tear stained eyes as she pulled the covers off slightly. He knew then should have checked in.

“They are just comments. Rude ones, I know, but simply comments. I have gotten bad ones before. It will all go away, honey, this isn’t the end of the world-”

“It feels that way.” She said as she sat up. “Charlie, do you see the comments I’m getting on instagram? The more comment sections I disable, the farther back people go. Someone was just commenting on my middle school graduation post that they hoped I was bullied. What kind of insane person does that?”

He hadn’t realized they had gotten that bad. Seeing how swollen her face was from crying, he felt tears threatening to fall himself. 

“I just want to be enough, Charles, but I don’t feel like I ever will be as long as you let the media dictate how you feel. I want you to love me because you love me, not because the media does. As much as it is unfair and as much as it sucks, you are a public figure. You aren’t just an athlete, you are a brand. You need to be in the spotlight and be loved by fans to sustain yourself long after you retire. You can’t have both me and your fanbase, they have made sure of that.”

“Honey, we can just go private. Make it seem like we broke up until they stop caring.”

“But we shouldn’t have to! I know you don't want to bash your ex but having people think that we were the ones cheating when it was her is unfair. Plus, you're not the one getting harassed, they act like this is only my fault.”

“It is unfair sweetheart, I understand that very much, but they will forget and move on.”

“They won’t Charles, so long as you are in the spotlight and attractive, people will love you and care about who you are dating. I-” She cut herself off from what she was about to say. She really didn’t want to say it.

“What, love?”

“I cannot continue like this. If we are going to be together, we can’t keep letting the public think what they currently do. Either address it or I am done.” With that she walked out of the room, rushing down the stairs to grab her keys and put on her shoes as she left a stunned and silent Charles still in the bedroom. 

—

Hours passed with no hint of when his girlfriend would be back. He left message after message until he decided to let her be for the time being. He got on a call with his PR team to assess what could be done but didn’t like the answer he got.

A tough conversation was waiting to be had and both of them knew it.

Finally, around midnight, he heard the front door open. Immediately standing from the couch, he walked over to hug her.

“I was so worried. I didn’t know when you'd be back.” He whispered into her hair as he rubbed her back.

“I know, Charles, I needed to clear my head, and I think you did too.” This was it. Both felt their stomachs sink as they sat down. Both were silent as they waited for the other person to speak up.

“I had a meeting with PR. Honey, they said there is nothing I could say that wouldn’t have large consequences. To talk about everything that happened after all this time would be petty, and defending you is wrong.” “It’s wrong? Defending me for something I didn’t do is wrong? God, Charles, do you even hear yourself? How are you letting your team call the shots and ruin our relationship like this?”

“I am not ruining our relationship, you are the one who is giving me an impossible choice. And that isn’t what I meant. It would just look bad-”

“Defending me from getting death threats wouldn’t look bad. You are being so stupid right now.”

“Don’t talk to me like that. Weren’t you the one earlier saying I wasn’t stupid? But now I am because I won’t let you call the shots on making decisions that would have large impacts on my career?”

“If defending your girlfriend is going to tank your career then what kind of fucking fans do you have, Charles? Clearly not ones you would want to keep around.” “Enough! I won’t talk about this anymore.”

“Then we are done. I won’t settle for continued harassment over something I didn’t do, and if you won’t defend me then I don’t know what I am even doing here.” Charles remained silent at that. What could he even say in this situation? In his mind, his hands were tied.

Oh how unfair it all was.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x you #charles leclerc

[rene-spade]

miss louisiana i | c. leclerc, a. saint mleux | chase landry

poly! | fem! reader x obsessive! exes! charles leclerc, alexandra saint mleux (+chase landry and f1 grid)

synopsis. your obsessive exes refuse to accept your new relationship with a man completely different from them. maybe they should move to louisiana? jk!. . . unless?

note. ok so reader is from louisiana and has cajun roots for context. chase landry is from swamp people 😭✌️ I loved that show when I was younger & I rewatched some recently and it reignited my crush on him sorry

WARNING(s); obsessive/possessive behavior, toxic/creepy exes (I make is as fluffy as I can tho trust), ooc Alex and Charles being a rich and out of touch, a spec of classism, stalking oops, (everyone Loves you)

miss.y/n📍belle river, la

liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, jacoblandry, carlossainz55, and 1,006,349 others

miss.y/n back where I belong ☀️🌷🐊🐝🐍🌿🐠

view comments

mariene.y/l/n be safe in the water my baby 🤗

miss.y/n yes maman 🤞😊 you know I’m protected

user oop who’s protecting you miss ma’am

user omgggg how did Charles n Alex fumble so baddd 😩😩🙏 I’ve needed y/n’s cajun french baddie ass since DAY ONE 🗣️

charles_leclerc so beautiful mon ange 😍 but that water is dark and might be dangerous. ta maman a raison!

see translation | your mom is right

user stopp didn’t y/n break things off with them???

user2 currently losing it my fav throuple might be back 💪🗣️

carlossainz55 hope you’re doing well mi dulce ❤️

alexandrasaintmleux yeah no this isn’t happening

user carlos sweetie delete this comment while you still have hands <3

user SHE’S BACK IN LOUISIANA RAHH

user2 how did I not know she was from the middle of nowhere 😭 what is pierre part??

user3 how didn’t you know!!! her dad literally used to hunt alligator before he died and her mom remarried and moved back to France . Her dad was cajun

user this might be a reach but y’all think she knows anybody from swamp people? Love that show 🤣🤣

liked by miss.y/n

♤ ♤ ♤

♤ ♤ ♤

Alex’s leg bounced up and down nervously as her call went to voicemail for the 7th time in a row. She’d been calling your phone nonstop since hearing the news, anxious to know if it was true or not. It was always something that ate at her; her and Charles’ inability to relate to your childhood in Louisiana. They’d grown up among a higher class than you and in foreign countries. You would just giggle and wave off her concerns, insisting that even though they couldn’t understand your upbringing, that at least you could understand theirs.

“No answer.” She muttered, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip. It was a habit she’d had as a child, one that you disapproved of and had trained out of her before you left them.

“She left us for a swamp man.” Charles pathetically finished Alex’s thought as they sat in his car, waiting to meet some other drivers and wags at the high-end restaurant Carlos chose.

“Don’t say it like that!” Alexandra turned her body towards the passenger window, “She didn’t leave us— not in that way! I told you she was homesick!”

Your father was a Cajun man who definitely took his culture to heart, doing a lot of hunting and fishing before he passed away suddenly when you were 12. Your mother was from France originally, and she remarried a rich Frenchman who’d ended up funding your modeling career after your success in pageantry. You moved straight to France at age 14 and found yourself in a completely different culture from how you grew up. You’d visited France before during summers with your mother, but it wasn’t home to you like Louisiana. You’d met Alexandra when the two of you were 19, and instantly bonded. Despite only really meeting briefly, it was love at first sight on Alex’s part and she supported you all the way to when you won Miss Universe after starting out Miss Louisiana.

When Charles had come along and had the same feelings that she did for you, it felt perfect, like everything had finally come together.

“With us is her home.” Charles replied, sucking his teeth.

“I can’t even—” Alex didn’t have to finish, the two had the same thought. They can’t even fathom the idea that you were with someone else.

x

Daniel was practically cackling in joy while Carlos at least tried to hide his amusement by covering his face. It was no secret that most of the f1 grid was praying for you to leave Charles/Alex so they could get a chance— but this wasn’t what they were expecting.

Bickering around the table ensued, only a few seconds before Alex was rolling her eyes with a groan and putting her face in her hands, “He doesn’t have any recent social media so I can’t even stalk him.”

“So we will just go there!”

“And what? Become swamp people?” Daniel was laughing so hard he was tearing up.

“Cha, that’s so ridiculous.” Alex mumbled.

“It is—!” Kika agreed suspiciously fast, “I just mean the split was recent, so maybe me and Pierre should visit her before you guys?” It’d only been a few months, but that had been enough to drive Charles and Alex a bit off the rails.

They’d only ever been apart from you for just over two days in the last year, up until you ghosted them. Well— it wasn’t technically ghosting when you left a note; a very brief letter in your familiar handwriting that told them you needed some space. They didn’t take it as a break up, although they did panic. Their numbers weren’t blocked, so they naturally took that as a good sign. This was probably because you wanted their attention since all their calls and messages were going through. The finality of it didn’t hit until it reached two weeks of no-contact from you and their photos were removed from your Instagram. The public noticed and so did the rest of the grid despite Alex and Charles’ now 3-month-long denial stage.

“le lieu s'appelle Pierre Part, yeah?” Pierre grinned and Charles sneered at him. (the place is called pierre part)

“They might have a point,” Daniel winced with a wide grin, “I think you’ll just look crazy if you show up. At least, one of us would just look like a friend who misses her, ya know?”

“None of you are visiting our girlfriend!” Alex frowned.

“Ex,” Carlos gently corrected into his fist with a cough before straightening up, “She jus’ is homesick maybe so give her some space and she will come back in no time.”

“I knew this would happen.” Alex slumped with her chin in her hand, “cet endroit est sa maison.” (that place is her home)

“You’ve never heard ‘if you love something, let it go’? If it’s meant to be, she’ll come back.” Daniel tried to reassure, but his face was almost a wince.

“We just wanted her close to us is all! We travel so much, we didn’t mean to take her away from her home—”

But Daniel gave them a look, knowing about their behavior with you. As in love with you as they are, Alex and Charles are intense about it. Endearing on one hand for awhile, but then the jealousy got worse and they were pretty delusional about their tendencies. He could understand it honestly— you were lovely. He imagined he’d be in the same state as Alex and Charles if you were his and you left him. Which is why he cut them so much slack, the rest of the table too.

“I don’t understand why she ran away like that!” Charles finished with a huff, running his fingers through his hair. He was starting to sweat. This felt like a cruel joke on your part— a mean way to get their attention.

“His ears are a little big.” Alex whispered, staring into her phone with a pout.

“et cela! regarde nos oreilles!” (and that! look at our ears!)

Pierre lost it at that; Charles pulling at his ears to make a point, “Maybe he’s just a nice guy, man!”

“We are nice!”

“Let me see.” Carlos walked around the table to see Alex’s phone.

She’d googled the name of your alleged new boyfriend— Chase Landry. He had starred on some Southern US reality show ‘Swamp People’; it mainly surrounded cajun alligator hunters in Louisiana. They had known you liked the show, but had never seen it themselves.

“Eh,” Carlos shrugged, “his ears aren’t that big. He is a little old for her though, no? 34?”

“Exactly! He is a pervert! I’m calling her again, actually.”

♤ ♤ ♤

♤ ♤ ♤

miss.y/n 📍pierre part, la

liked by jacoblandry, carlossainz55, francisca.cgomes, danielricciardo, and 1,014,108 others

miss.y/n me and my dirty swamp man foreva 🤞💛🌷🦆

view comments

user STOPPP SHE SAID THAT’S MY MAN N IMMA STICK BY HIMMMM

user2 stfu 😭✋ the fact that this man most likely has no idea that this is going on

user3 his brother liking her posts and filling him in

miss.y/n jokes on y’all Jacob doesn’t know what’s going on either

bellahadid beautiful lily faery and her dirty swamp bf <3

miss.y/n <3 literally

user BELLA⁉️

arthur_leclerc beautiful view of the water, ma sœur!

see translation | my sister

user THEY SENT Y/NS FAVORITE LECLERC BROTHER IN TO PLAY DAMAGE CONTROL

user2 not “my sister” 😭😭😭 leclercs let her go challenge

user y/n’s harem coming to her defense like the mighty morphin power rangers 😭😂🤣

x

this is part 1 of perhaps 3. I plan on making part 2 much longer and more writing than social media like this one, just for some balanceee

taglist; @alliwantisadonut @splaterparty0-0 @charizznorizz

Ren

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #dark! f1 #f1 grid x reader #obsessive f1 #charles leclerc x reader #poly f1 #f1 oc #obsessive charles leclerc #ex! charles leclerc #Charles leclerc fic #carlos sainz x reader #alex saint mleux x reader #alexandra saint mleux #f1 reverse harem #swamp people x reader #chase landry x reader

[augustinewrites]

based on this

your frowning face appears in the mirror as wriothesley fixes his hair for the third time that afternoon, admiring how the gel he’d borrowed from clorinde was surprisingly adept at slicking back his unruly hair. 

“we can’t be late,” you remind him, fiddling with the collar of your dress. “father despises tardiness…”

“awe, are you worried i’ll make a bad first impression?” he asks, finally turning to face you. “don’t worry, sweetheart. parents love me. well, maybe not my foster parents. but i’m always a hit with other people’s.”

the comment about his…colourful past  goes right over your head. you really are worried. “it’s not you i’m worried about. father can be…intense.”

“i work in a prison. it can’t get more intense than that,” he reminds you, grabbing the gift bag sitting by the door. “besides, once we pull out this bad boy, he’ll be so impressed that he’ll ask me to join you for lunch next week too.” 

of course, he had no actual idea if the wine navia had chosen was any good. though his wallet had come back significantly lighter, so that had to mean it was halfway decent. 

“wriothesley,” you say, still looking deeply concerned. “you do know that father is–”

“intense, babe. i know,” he sighs, cupping your face in his hands and placing a kiss between your furrowed brows. you try to wriggle out of his hold, but he doesn’t let you, gently keeping your focus on him. “don’t worry, alright? i’ll shake his hand, we’ll talk about safe topics like the weather and how great the aquabus is. i’ll even use my best table manners when the food comes.” 

his thumbs gently brush your cheeks as you sigh, shaking your head slightly. “i just really want you two to get along.” 

“i can be plenty charming when i need to be,” he says, only letting you go to pull the front door open. “besides, who wouldn’t want a duke as a son-in-law?”

______

business at café lutece is unusually empty today, wriothesley observes. all of the tables are reserved, but remain empty at the height of the lunch rush. 

you don’t seem to notice this, fingertips drumming the surface of the table 

“quit fidgeting,” wriothesley murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“i’m just nervous,” you mutter, knee beginning to bounce. wriothesley chuckles, stilling it with a firm hand. 

you look up at him, smiling as you place your hand over his. “thanks.”

the waiter comes back with the tea he’d ordered earlier, leaving a teapot and two small jars of sugar and milk. he’s in the middle of pouring you a cup when you suddenly sit up.

“father!”

“oh shit,” the duke mutters, quickly getting on his feet. he glances down at his outfit briefly, making sure his buttons are done up properly and his sleeves are rolled neatly before holding out his hand. “it’s nice to finally meet you–”

wriothesley’s open stance shifts into a protective one, immediately putting himself between you and the knave. 

“well, isn’t this sweet,” the harbinger says, clearly more amused than threatened. 

wriothesley looks back at you, incredulous. “your father is a fatui harbinger?!”

“all children of the house of the hearth refer to me as such,” she answers, gracefully pulling out and taking a seat across from him. “sit, your grace, and prove to me why you should continue to be allowed to court my child.”

_____

sitting face to face with the knave was equal parts exhilarating and nerve-inducing. exhilarating because she was the knave. skilled in combat and espionage and one of the highest ranking harbingers.

nerve-inducing because she was your father. and as much as he wanted to engage her in a battle of wits and fisticuffs, that was not something one did with their father-in-law. 

“i trust business at the fortress is going smoothly, your grace?”

wriothesley casts the harbinger a wary look over his teacup. “you can read about childe’s status in the report i had sent over last week.”

“well, you know better than most that information from inside sources is much more valuable.”

both their gazes drift to you, and you send him an apologetic look.

“oh, relax,” the woman across from him laughs. “i was simply making conversation. since i’m short of time, however, i will make the point of our visit quite brief.”

she leans forward, clasping your hand in hers across the tabletop as she fixes wriothesley with a paragliding glare.

“if you ever hurt my child, or she comes to any harm whilst in your care, there is not a corner of the ocean dark enough for you to hide.”

“father!” you gasp. “you said you wouldn't threaten him.”

it’s almost eerie, how easily the dark expression slips off her visage. “that wasn’t a threat. c'était une promesse.” 

#wriothesley x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #wriothesley fluff #genshin x you #fem!reader

[rafesaddiction]

It's still not cheating when he's your best friend – Rafe Cameron x Reader (Part 2)

See here for part 1

Summary: You're excited to see your favorite band live. But a fight with your boyfriend threatens to cancel the trip, until someone you don’t expect to see, saves the day: your best friend Rafe Cameron.

Concept: best friend, only nice to her

Warnings: mdni! – smut, fingering, public, (kinda) dubcon, cheating (reader cheats on boyfriend), hints at a toxic relationship, name calling (reader is called slut), protective!rafe

Word count: 3.1k

a/n The past weeks have been really hard for me due to health issues. But I've finally been able to write again. I had fun writing this and I hope you won’t be disappointed reading it. Please let me know your thoughts.

Taglist @dream-pink @dope-trope-105 @rafeinterlude @baby19sthings @yootvi @aaronhotchswife @lilo7sworld

He almost ruined it. For months, you had been looking forward to seeing one of your favorite bands at the beach festival. The day before the concert, your boyfriend told you he didn't want to go and he didn't want you to go either. You had a fight that started over something stupid and ended with him accusing you that you just wanted to go to the festival so you could run around naked and fool around with guys, like the slut you were. You cried when he stormed out and shut your dorm room’s door with a bang. You cried all night.

Your boyfriend was supposed to be the driver. And now on top of all the personal pain you were feeling, you had to explain to your friends that you no longer had a ride to the festival. Neither you nor one of your friends owned a car. You tried to get your parents' car, but they needed it themselves. In the group chat you discussed all kinds of possibilities, until one of your friends wrote that he had organized a car. Everyone cheered at that, and even you, despite of all those tears that kept running down your face, were relieved that you and your friends could make the trip. You not only wanted to see the band play, more important to you was to get out with your friend and forget about the argument you and your boyfriend had.

Your friend also mentioned that the car's owner would join us to the festival, to which everyone naturally agreed and was excited. You even promised to bake cookies for the mysterious hero.

But you didn’t expect it to be him. You could have guessed because that friend also went to high school with you and they had been friends then. Still, it was kind of a shock and you froze when you saw a familiar car on the parking lot next to the dorms. The Cameron family SUV.

You hadn't talked to him since that one night. That one night that should have never happened. That one night that had been the best night of your life. That one night when you had had the best sex of your life with your best friend, Rafe Cameron.

Rafe wasn't much of a texter, but he had texted you. You had written six different replies and never sent one. You had wanted to write him or call him several times. Like last night when your boyfriend had made you cry again. Suddenly you were very aware of how you must look. Your eyes all puffy from the crying.

Rafe was at the back of the car, loading bags into the trunk with the friend who had invited him to this trip.

He hadn't seen you yet, his back was turned towards you, and you were glad about it, because you didn't know what to say, didn't know how to feel. So you were more than relieved when one of your friends arrived shortly after you, pulled you in a hug and decided that you two could already get into the car which was much cooler than standing around in the burning sun, while you could leave it to the guys to load your stuff into the car.

You sat in the middle of the backseat, your friend to your right. She started chatting right away and you felt somewhat relieved that she didn't comment on your boyfriend's absence nor your puffy eyes. Shortly after, the rest of your group arrived, you were six altogether, and luckily the SUV was really comfortable – more comfortable than your boyfriend's old minivan.

Rafe got into the driver's seat, and for a moment, he looked at you through the rearview mirror, before you turned your attention to your friend, as you felt your heart skipping a beat at that moment. You were unsure whether you saw a smile flash over his face, and you didn't dare to look again to check, afraid your face might reveal too much of your inner turmoil.

Though the drive took several hours, time flew by quickly. You had been right. It was good being with your friends and having fun. Everyone was in a good mood, the music was good, there was lively chatting and laughter, there was drinking and snacking, and even stupid car games were played. You might have been a little quieter than usual, but no one seemed to notice – no one except Rafe, who again and again looked at you through the mirror, but never directly spoke to you.

The parking lot of the festival site was already quite full, but Rafe managed to find a good spot for the car. When you got out of the car, you stretched your arms and felt the sun on your skin. It was a very hot day and the car had been nicely air-conditioned. Since it was so hot and the festival was on the beach anyway, your friends and you decided to just wear your bathing suits. You got out of your jeans shorts and shirt, as you were wearing your bikini underneath. You saw Rafe take off his shirt, and one of your guy friends commented that he should put it back on as it would make them all look like total wimps compared to him. There was laughter and Rafe smirked as he casually flexed his chest muscles. It was true. Rafe did look fitter than most guys. It wasn't too much muscles, but he was big and looked strong. Sometimes you thought he looked too good to be real, like a statue of some Greek god… Rafe had caught you staring at him and you quickly averted your gaze, feeling heat crawling to your face.

Since everyone was hungry, your friends and you decided to get some pizza and drinks, and after that more drinks. Everyone was relaxed and had a good time. You smiled a lot – except when you looked at your phone and saw the notifications. Your boyfriend had sent you several texts and voice mails. You didn't open them, you had already seen in the preview window what those texts were about. Obviously he hadn't calmed down. If anything he was even more angry, even more hurtful in his messages.

When looking at the phone, you also saw the time. The band you wanted to see was about to play soon. You asked your friends to go with you closer to the stage, but no one really wanted to move. They said you could hear the music perfectly well from their current spot, besides the booze was here. To that everyone cheered and raised their cups. Everyone but Rafe.

“I’ll go with you.”

“You don't have to. You can stay here, enjoy yourself. I'll just go on my own.”

“Quit that bullshit,” he said and came closer, he had put his cup away. “I'm going with you. So you won't get lost in the crowd. Besides, I know how much you want to see your third favorite band live.”

“You remember,” you gazed up at him, who stood now directly in front of you. You had to shield your eyes since the sun was shining so brightly, but you could definitely see a smile on his lips.

“Of course, I remember,” he said in a low voice, almost whispering and you couldn't help it, you gasped for air.

The smile on his lips turned into a smirk as he continued, “How could I ever forget you dancing to that one song for like all of junior year, hm? You're gonna do that dance again? Wouldn't wanna miss that.”

And he started moving his hips and his arms in a weird clumsy rhythm, imitating what was supposed to be you dancing. It looked ridiculous and you had to laugh.

You punched his shoulder. “Stop that. That's not how I dance.”

He kept on moving in that awkward way and you tried hard to stop laughing – suddenly feeling lighter and more relaxed than you had in weeks – since that night.

You crossed your arms in front of your chest and pushed out your lips, pouting, but couldn't fight the giggles, as Rafe tried some elaborate pirouette which caused him to stumble, but he stopped, directly in front of you. All of a sudden he was calm and there was something so soft in his features which you knew he rarely ever showed anyone.

“Let's go,” it was almost a whisper, then he added in a louder voice. “We don't want to miss that song and that dance.”

You punched his chest, your hand almost hurting as it hit the hard muscle – and felt his hot skin. But you let him take your hand and lead you from the group of your friends who were engrossed in some conversation of their own. His strong hand holding yours felt good, it felt right. Rafe was your best friend. He was the one you trusted most, he was the one who made you laugh, no matter what.

Rafe walked towards the stage and tugged you along with him. When there were more and more people around, he pulled you close to his body. Still holding one of your hands, his palm touched your back as he walked behind you, keeping you very close. He made sure you didn't get lost in the crowd. His body shielded you from anyone bumping into you or spilling their drinks on you.

The place got more and more crowded and he had to slow down. You turned your head to look at him.

“This is okay,” you said.

Rafe frowned as he looked at you. “No, it's not. We're going to the front row.”

“No, Rafe, this is totally okay. I can see enough from here.”

His frown deepened. “No, you can't. You're too tiny.”

At that comment you frowned. “I’m not tiny. You're just a giant,” you said and wanted to punch him with your free hand, but you didn't have enough space to move your arm, so you just ended up placing your palm on his chest. Feeling his hard muscle, feeling his hot skin, and his heart beating. He placed his hand on yours and your breathing hitched.

Rafe held you even tighter to his body as he proceeded to walk to the stage. His strong arms held you, protected you. And despite all these people around you, you only felt him, his presence, his closeness, all around you. Your skin tingled where it touched his, and that tingling grew stronger and became something else. Something that went so much deeper. And you felt a too familiar pulsing in your core.

Some people complained and pushed and shoved, but one look at Rafe’s face and stature and they made room for you and him. He really managed to secure a spot in the front row for you, right in the middle and you got the perfect view of the stage, standing directly behind the first barrier. Only a few feet of empty space separated you from the stage. Rafe was standing directly behind you, his hands to both sides of you, resting on the rail, his arms caging you in – shielding you.

You wanted to turn and thank him, but in that moment the band entered the stage and started playing their first song. You were captivated by their performance and the great atmosphere their music created. There was cheering, singing, dancing all around you. People were pushing and shoving, but you only felt a fraction of that as Rafe's body pressed closer to yours. He was shielding you from all the crowd's wilder movements, while you could enjoy being part of this experience safely.

You even danced a bit, your back rubbing against Rafe's front. When you craned your neck to look back at him, you saw him grin. And you felt a grin on your own face.

The set list was great too. They played all your favorite songs and the lead singer managed to put some kind of spell on the audience when they played a couple of slower songs. Or that spell was just on you, and not caused by the singer, but by something or someone else.

You leaned back a little, your head resting against Rafe's broad chest, feeling his heart beat. You closed your eyes and your hips swayed to the slow rhythm of the song. Your skin touched his skin. And you didn't mind the thin film of sweat covering his body from the heat of the bright sun and the crowded place. You smelled his scent so intensely, it made you almost forget where you were. It just made you feel.

Your eyes opened, your upper body leaned forward, resting your arms on the barrier. You watched the singer putting all his emotions into each and every note. Goosebumps crawled over your skin. But it wasn't from the singer's raspy voice. Rafe's hand touched your hip. Your back arched a little as your butt was pushed back. You gasped. Rafe's hand rubbed over your butt cheek, you felt the rough palm, the long fingers, the cool metal of his ring on your skin. The touch was light, too light, too gentle, too soft. Your mouth opened, but all sounds were drowned by the music and the noise of the people.

His fingertips, just his fingertips, tenderly touched the back of your thigh, moved to the inside of your leg. They moved up and one finger rubbed over the fabric of your bikini bottoms. It was like scratching and you flinched, but that didn't make him withdraw his hand. Instead, the finger pushed harder, pushed to part your folds, pushed to tease you, while the layer of clothes still was between you and his digit.

You felt heat rushing through your body, neither caused by the sun nor by the heat of the people moving around you. You did not perceive any of them. You just felt him, while your eyes were directed at the band on stage performing their emotional song.

Rafe’s finger moved along your slit with pressure. Through your bikini panties his fingertip was able to find your most sensitive spot at once and he began teasing it mercilessly. No one heard it, but you were sure, Rafe felt that you were moaning. You felt a growing need that threatened to take over all your senses. As if he knew that, felt that, perceived that, Rafe pushed the fabric aside – tantalizingly slow. And his fingers found you wet and yearning for his touch. A mewling sound escaped your lips as a finger pushed inside you. You felt your walls clench around the digit. And you felt Rafe tense behind you and you were sure you heard a groan.

The song had changed, you only now realized, its rhythm was faster, wilder. And so was Rafe's touch. His finger thrust into you, stretching your tightness, pushing deep, making you squirm. Your hands gripping the metal of the barrier for support. Your legs started shaking as Rafe added a second finger and began fucking you with his digits. He curled them inside you and your head went back to your neck as you moaned shamelessly. He pulled his fingers out completely, just to push them into you even deeper. Again and again.

The song grew louder, harder, fiercer – and so did his finger-fucking you. Your body trembled, your voice was hoarse and you were whining now. He pushed you further and further, closer and closer to the edge.

Then, all of a sudden, he leaned over you – maybe he was pushed by the crowd jumping about, maybe he needed to feel you closer too – and you could feel his hardness press against your back. You pressed your eyes shut as your climax hit you, hit you hard. The wave swept you away and carried you to another place, where all you did was feel, feel this, feel him.

His fingers fucked you through your orgasm. He had wrapped his arm around you, was holding you close to his body, and thus was also keeping you from falling, since your legs were shaking and you feared you no longer could trust them to support you.

Slowly he pulled his fingers out. And even though you still felt echoes of your high, this also left a feeling of emptiness inside you. A longing that was always there if he wasn't inside you.

You felt his breath close to your ear and heard him say something, but the music drowned his words. You turned your head, looking at him with hooded eyes and saw him lick his fingers.

The rest of the concert felt like in a haze. Rafe kept his arm around you, holding you close, while you watched the band play but could only listen to his heart beat, as your body was still shivering.

When the show ended, people started moving and Rafe took a step back to give you room to turn around to him.

“Thirsty?” he asked you, and you just nodded, not trusting your voice.

His hand on your back, Rafe guided you through the crowd back to your friends, and you had to admit to yourself that you wouldn't have found them on your own.

Rafe ordered something to drink for you at the nearby bar while you stood with your friends. One of them commented that you were glowing and that you looked totally blissed out. You touched your cheek and felt the heat, and felt that smile on your face. She asked if the show had been that good and you replied that it had been amazing. Your voice was hoarse and she suspected it was from you singing along with the band so loudly all the time. You didn't comment on that, just felt another wave of heat going through your body. As you turned, your eyes met Rafe's. A little smirk on his lips as he put a cup into your hand and took a swig out of his own.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #outer banks #obx #dark rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe fic #smut fic #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x you #rafe fanfic

[astonmartinii]

hi!! i dont know if you're still taking requests but if you are, can you please do a max verstappen smau with fem reader, where reader is a huge max fan and they like end up together in the end. i love all of your work and i've probably reread most of your work!! your doing great and i hope you have a good day 🫶

worlds biggest fan | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x reader

y/n is the president of the official max verstappen fan club, but nothing can come of that, right?

(this'll probably just be part one so let me know if you want a part two)

maxverstappenarchive

liked by maxverstappen1, victoriaverstappen and 31,239 others

maxverstappenarchive: max took the win at monza this weekend after a late safety car. the dutchman once again showed he’s a mentality king ignoring all the boos from the tifosi. they hate what they can’t have.

view all comments

user1: max verstappen the man you are

maxverstappen1: 🧡

maxverstappenarchive: super max 🏆

yourusername: jealousy is a disease get well soon xoxo

user2: i love how she comments like we don’t know she runs this account

user3: SHES THE ADMIN???

user4: i personally love when maxverstappenarchive gets sassy with it like the caption didn’t have to serve so hard

yourusername: someone has to defend him and it’s got to the point i no longer need to argue with people over the internet i need a GUN

liked by maxverstappen1

user5: we can see you by the way max

yourusername

liked by victoriaverstappen, maxverstappen1 and 3,429 others

yourusername: the library knows my face way more than it should :(

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user6: she’s almost too cool to be the literal president of the max verstappen fan club

user7: no i need her to be this cool cause it makes us 10% cooler by association

user8: she single-handedly covers us from the embarrassment from the middle aged drunk men in the orange army

user9: she’s so chill about the fact that victoria and max are just constantly in her likes

yourbff1: i can assure you she is not chill about it

yourbff2: like at all

yourbff1: wow i wonder who takes these lovely pictures of you at the library and conveniently only takes them when you’re not having a meltdown

yourusername: i love yewwwww xxx

yourbff1: you can repay me when you become a wag

yourusername: PLS don’t say that i shan’t abuse my position as president

yourbff1: shame

maxverstappen1 liked this comment

f1

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 552,895 others

tagged: maxverstappen1, georgerussell63

f1: it all got a little much in the baku sprint race as george russell made contact with max verstappen on the opening lap giving the red bull damage for the entire race. the two came to blows in parc ferme with verstappen sending a number of expletives russell’s way. what do you think?

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user15: is mad max back?

user16: he never left he’s always been a big whiny baby, lewis would never

user17: no need to call russell a dickhead, crashtappen can’t handle someone actually racing him for once - just like his dad

maxverstappenarchive: max has never been a “whiny baby”, he may have been a little hot-headed and someone who always spoke his mind but he could never be categorised as a whiny baby. if you have such a problem with drivers calling other drivers dickheads then you should take it up with hamilton who did the exact same a few seasons ago. you simply have a problem with max’s success which is a you problem and there is no reasonable reason for you to bring jos verstappen into this argument, it immediately invalidates your argument.

user18: period oh my

user19: she spilt so hard here

user20: ignoring whatever domestic just happened in this comment section to say that i don’t care who is in the right - i just live for the drama

f1wagsandtea

liked by pierregasly, user22 and 21,341 others

f1wagsandtea: meet y/n y/ln, the president of the max verstappen fan club. she’s a student at UCL studying english literature and french and unapologetically defends max at all times. however people have been taking notice of how she’s never actually been to a race and how max has been subtlety liking comments about their relationship potential. what do you think about y/n and max?

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user23: kinda creepy that she literally runs his fan club but also it’s kinda cute idk i’m having a crisis over this

user24: i need this not to happen cause i’ll become so delusional and think i can pull charles

yourusername: some people are broke i’m working to go to a race but unfortunately i need food and a place to live first

user25: speaking for the broke queens i love you

maxverstappen1: it’s a bit too late to sort tickets for this weekend, but i can do dinner next week?

yourusername: time and address and im there

user26: bro the dms are there for a reason

maxverstappen1: noted

user27: why did you say that i wanted to witness max verstappens rizz :(

yourbff1: i usually hate these accounts cause y’all too nosey for your own good, but you got my bestie a date with her dream man so you get a pass just this once

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, yourbff1 and 6,199 others

yourusername: slow weekend

view all comments

user30: she's playing it too cool i'd be a literal puddle on the floor rn

yourbff1: rest assured that she's been screaming about it for at least the last three days

maxverstappen1: 🧡

yourusername: amazing race maxy 🦁

user31: she's so cool but also CAT

user32: my spidey senses are picking up cat play dates with jimmy, sassy and ... the orange one yourusername: his name is moose user32: not what i was expecting but seems fitting user33: was half-expecting his name to be max maxverstappen1: me too yourusername: guys i'm not that bad yourbff2: her old goldfish was named max yourusername: STOP EMBARRASSING ME

maxverstappenarchive

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 47,831 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

maxverstappenarchive: max won the belgian grand prix to take his win tally to 35 career wins! congratulations max 🧡

view all comments

user34: so like when is he legit going to be in the goat conversation?

user35: genuinely this dominance is so so impressive

maxverstappen1: see you in a couple days 🧡

user36: leave the flirting to the personal accounts verstappen yourusername: i'm so excited you wouldn't believe

redbullracing: in max we trust

maxverstappenarchive: generational talent

user37: i know they won't but can someone livestream this date cause i wanna watch maxverstappenarchive lose her literal mind

yourusername: no mind will be lost i am a grown woman yourbff1: sureeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

yourusername added to their story

[caption: hot summer nights, mid july]

maxverstappen1 added to their story

[caption: no one tell brad]

note: i nearly got to the photo limit so i'm gonna leave this here but i have a lot of ideas for this scenario so let me know if yall want a second part !! also hope this actually fulfilled the original request ??

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen instagram au

[steddietogo]

So. This is my own take on Steddie meet cute at the Grammys (gets a little thirsty in the middle for a second so warning I guess??)

———

The buzzing in his veins feel too much to contain in Eddie’s body, his cheeks ache from grinning too hard. He grabs Jeff by the shoulders to shake him and Jeff takes it without complain, too busy floating in his own cloud nine to do anything about it. All four of them are.

They’re being carted off from one interview to another, it’s all hazy in his mind, all he can think of is that they won a fucking Grammy.

“We’re here backstage with Corroded Coffin with their first ever Grammy from the best rock performance category,” the interviewer is saying, then he turns to face the band, and shit. Eddie has to sling an arm over Gareth to keep himself upright. “So how are you guys feeling right now?”

“It feels very validating to get the recognition for all our hard work—” and everything else Jeff says barely registers. Eddie is staring, he’s distantly aware of it. But he should hardly be blamed. The man before him is dressed in a deep caramel suit, jacket cinching around a trim waist and bubble gum pink lips stretched in a smile as he diligently listens to what his band has to say.

“— and Eddie, he’s really put his heart and soul in this song in particular,” the mention of his name unceremoniously drags him back to the land of the living where his bandmates know him too well and are actively trying to sabotage him before the sexy interviewer. Gareth is innocently blinking up at Eddie with his I’ve-never-done-anything-wrong-in-my-life eyes, urging him to speak.

“Um,” Um? Seriously? “Mob Mentality is an especially significant song to me personally—” Eddie’s given this spiel a hundred times, not that any word of it is untrue, but the practiced response lets him zone out just the right amount to fully drown himself in the shade of hazel of the interviewer’s eyes, imagine them looking up at Eddie from between his thighs, full of tears— goddamnfuckstopit.

The man must notice, because there’s a gorgeous smattering of pink dusting his cheeks Eddie could swear wasn’t there before.

After, Eddie is pretty much bodily dragged away from there, legs refusing to carry him away. He twists even as he’s walking, desperate to keep the man within his sights for even just a second longer. To keep him looking at Eddie, which by some miracle, he still is. And like an idiot Eddie waves, wiggling his fingers at him.

The man raises his own hand in return, and then he’s turning away, leaving Eddie to mourn the loss of his attention. But then he hears it— Steve. The camera guy calls him Steve. Sexy interviewer’s name is Steve. That in itself would be enough to sustain Eddie’s daydreams for some time.

———

Predictably, its all over social media the very next day. Or more accurately there’s one particular clip circling the net like there’s no tomorrow.

Eddie Munson simping for hot guy at the Grammys.

The comments were the worst (best) part. Eddie hasn’t dated since coming out to the public. And the fact that most of the comments people have about him openly showing interest in another man is just nonchalance or excitement makes him feel much better about it.

Eddie’s heart skips as he sees the face from last night in the clip, looking even more gorgeous than in his dreams if it were even possible. And then there is also Eddie in those clips, practically undressing him with his eyes, right there in public. He looks like he wants to open him up and lick him like melted chocolate in a wrapper.

Eddie was so screwed.

———

Top comments:

user 80085: that man is stronger than me because I don’t think I’d survive Eddie Munson looking at me like that

CorrodedFC: Eddie Munson Rendered momentarily speechless? by an interviewer?? More likely that you think

you_call_me_munson: they need to date. Right this second or I’m stealing one of the hotties for myself

———

Part II

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #famous eddie munson #steddie Grammys edition

[ellemj]

Time & Temptation - Roommates w/ Benefits Pt. 1

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Summary: While the compound is undergoing a security system update, the team is moved into an apartment complex. You were initially set to room with Wanda, but Bucky makes you an offer that you don't even consider refusing.

Warnings: profanity, wet dream with unprotected sex and teasing, alcohol consumption, use of y/n, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: Okay, I'm super nervous about throwing something out here after Needs & Wants BUT we're doing this. It was now or never lmao. Don't forget, if you want to be notified when new parts are posted, you can add yourself to the tag list using this Google doc. It's a bit easier to add yourself vs. commenting to be tagged, because I don't always see comments before posting other parts. As usual, I have to give extra thanks to @littlemiss-yeehaw for being such an encouraging friend and for continually saving my ass by telling me what warnings my fics need.

You had been drinking. That’s the excuse you’re going with. You’d both been drinking. But is that really a valid excuse when one of you is a super soldier who’s completely unaffected by alcohol? You decide to blame Bucky Barnes. He should’ve been thinking straight. If he had been, you wouldn’t have ended up as roommates.

         As you rub the sleep from your eyes, you fight to quiet the thoughts rushing through your mind at warp-speed. You didn’t drink enough to be hungover but you’re definitely feeling the effects from the number of beers you had just a few hours ago. Your overthinking only intensifies the headache that’s currently pounding behind your eyes. Ibuprofen. You need ibuprofen. You can see that the sun hasn't come up yet, which means it’s still either very late or very early in the morning, so you try to be as quiet as possible. You don’t want to wake your new roommate. Of course, you wouldn’t have known since you've barely ever interacted with the man, but he doesn’t sleep much. When you stumble out into the hall, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of black panties, you fail to notice the way Bucky’s door hangs ajar, signifying he's not in bed. You run your hand along the wall of the hallway, feeling your way to the kitchen so you won’t have to make your headache any worse by turning on a light.

         “Jesus, Bucky. What are you doing up?” You ask in a whisper, after being startled by the figure of the six-foot super soldier lurking in the kitchen. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of gray sweats and his dog tags, as he leans back against the edge of the countertop in near-darkness. As your eyes adjust, you let them linger over his defined chest and abs a little longer than you should have, and he notices your momentary ogling.

         “Why are you whispering?” He questions, stealing a look of his own. And why the fuck are you walking around without any pants on? His eyes trail down your body, taking in the vintage t-shirt that barely skims the tops of your thighs and your toned legs that are on full display. You’re rubbing your temples with the pads of the middle finger and thumb of your right hand, so you don’t notice his gaze. Fuck. If you’re going to share an apartment, he may have to set a ground rule about pants. Though, he didn’t initially take you for the type to prance around half-dressed, otherwise he might’ve proposed the rule before you ever went to bed.

         “What kind of beer did you give me last night?” The question rolls off of your tongue a little more accusatory than you intended as you take a few steps further into the kitchen and wave Bucky away from his place in front of the sink. He moves around the island and takes a seat on one of the barstools there, watching as you rise up on your tippy toes to pull open the medicine cabinet that sits high over the sink. Your t-shirt pulls up with the movement of your outstretched arm, dangerously close to revealing your ass to him. He clenches his jaw and looks down at the mug that’s gripped tightly between his two hands. He's dangerously close to breaking it into a hundred tiny pieces. Jesus. He’s definitely going to make wearing pants a ground rule, but he’ll wait until you’ve fully awoken to bring that up.

         “It was just beer.” He mutters, taking a sip of his hot tea. He’s not usually one to drink tea, but he’s had a particularly sleepless night and sometimes it helps. It might’ve helped, if you hadn’t waltzed in here half-dressed and woken up his entire lower half.

         “Beer from hell.” You grumble, retrieving the bottle of ibuprofen from the cabinet and shaking two of the little pills out into the palm of your hand. You put the bottle back in its place before fixing yourself a glass of water and downing the medicine. Bucky’s eyes follow your every move, but you aren't paying attention to him. “Did I really move in here?” You have to ask. You know it’s true, you know that you and Vision switched rooms last night. But still, you need to hear it from someone else.

         “Yeah.” Bucky answers dryly. You don’t remember him being so short with you when he proposed the idea a few hours ago. You let out a deep sigh before taking another sip of water.

         “There’s probably no chance Vision will switch back with me, is there?” You also know the answer to that one, but still, you ask.

         “Throwing in the towel already?” Bucky taunts, raising an eyebrow at you. Is he really challenging you over this? He was the one that suggested you and Vision switch rooms, you merely agreed to it because there was no way you could survive practically being a part of a throuple in yours and Wanda’s apartment for the next three months.

         “No, I’m just wondering if this was a good idea.” You retort, narrowing your eyes at him. Why the fuck isn’t he wearing a shirt? If you had known that he walks around like that, you definitely wouldn’t have moved in. He’s always been frustratingly attractive, even with his signature frown and reclusive nature. You really weren’t thinking straight when you rolled your suitcase in here, set your duffel bag and moving boxes down in the second bedroom, and decided to call this your new home.

         “It was either this or you were going to have to knock on your door and ask Wanda and Vision to wrap it up so you could get some sleep. The choice was yours.”

         “I was…influenced.” You claim, setting your glass on the countertop and crossing your arms over your chest. Your t-shirt once again rides up a bit and this time you catch Bucky’s eyes flitting down to your thighs. It’s fleeting, but you notice it. You know you weren’t really influenced. Bucky’s right. He simply offered a solution to your problem, and you took him up on it.

------------------ 7 Hours Earlier -------------------

         It took Bucky less than ten minutes to unpack. He really only needs his clothes, a few weapons, and a decent book when he moves from one place to another. Vision, however, didn’t unpack a single thing. He quickly settled his suitcase and boxes into his bedroom before hurrying back out to the parking garage to help Wanda with her things. Bucky imagines he probably would’ve fared well with the ladies in the 40s, though the synthetic body and infinity stone might’ve scared a few off.

         Once Bucky’s alone in the new apartment, he takes his time walking around and checking it out. It’s more spacious than he expected. When Tony said he was moving everyone into an apartment complex for at least the next three months while the tower undergoes a hefty security system update, Bucky definitely didn’t picture being moved into a luxury complex. The floor-to-ceiling windows on one side of the living room offer a stunning view of the city a couple of miles to the south, and the open floorplan makes the space seem that much bigger. Though, the kitchen being so open to the living room makes it so that the only privacy Bucky will ever have here will be behind his bedroom door. Not that he plans to hang out outside of his room very much. He didn’t do that very often back in the compound either.

         Bucky’s gaze is broken away from the view when he hears the elevator ding in the hallway, followed by Wanda and Vision whispering back and forth.

         “She’ll probably be out for at least an hour since she’s meeting Fury, but we might have even longer than that.” Wanda’s hushed tone is one that Bucky has heard plenty of times before. He’s heard it most often when it's late at night, and she and Vision are sneaking around together. They always think they’re being so stealthy, but honestly, the rest of the team has heard them getting it on on more than a handful of occasions. Tony should have just let them share a place, but Bucky understands why he didn’t. You would’ve been stuck with one of the guys. Tony thought he was doing you a favor by sticking you with Wanda, especially since the two of you are such good friends, but he failed to realize just how attached Wanda and Vision are lately. Bucky feels for you in this moment, he truly does. Though he’s never really been on your end of something like this, he was in Vision’s shoes often back in his early army days. He always had a pretty girl on his arm and he knows he made his fair share of people uncomfortable with his public displays of affection. He can’t imagine how much a roommate would’ve hated him if he’d had one back then.

         He listens as Wanda and Vision pass by his apartment and continue on down the hall. The apartment immediately next to his is going to be empty for at least a few days, since it belongs to Clint and Sam, and neither of them were in town today to be able to move in. Yours and Wanda’s apartment is the next one over. However, even all of that space between your apartment and his is no match for Bucky’s heightened sense of hearing. It’s always been more of a curse than a blessing to him, and that proves true again now, as his ears are assaulted by the sound of Vision and Wanda tearing each other’s clothes off.

---

         Your meeting with Fury was a lot shorter than usual, but he did send you back to your new apartment with an abundance of Chinese food from the hole-in-the-wall place that he chose to meet at. As you make the trek from the parking garage to the building, carrying an over-filled plastic baggy of food, you wonder if Wanda’s already started unpacking her things. Maybe she’s been working on setting up the apartment since you left and she’ll be ready for a food break. You glance down at your phone and see that it’s nearing 8 pm. You’re envisioning an evening of good food and friendly company in your new apartment, but of course, that’s not what you’ll find once you make your way upstairs.

         As soon as the elevator lets you out onto your floor, you feel like you’re in college again, making your way down the hall of a dorm building. You probably shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up about the nice little roommate dinner. You’re not even three feet away from the door when you hear the distinctive sound of a headboard slapping against the wall and it freezes you in your tracks. Shit, you can’t even go into your own apartment. You stand there like a deer in headlights for about five seconds, horrified by what you’re listening in on, before you start backtracking to the elevator. You can enjoy the food from the comfort of your own car, even if it’s fucking freezing outside. As you start walking back down the hall, you catch yourself stopping outside of Bucky’s door. Surely, he’s home. You don’t know him as well as you know the rest of the team, but you do know that he spent a lot of time in his suite back in the compound. It’s unlikely that he’s out tonight. For a brief moment, you imagine yourself knocking on his door while he sits inside and completely ignores you. Is he the type to do that? To pretend he isn’t home? Hell, forget it. You’ll just go with your original plan of eating in the car.

         Bucky heard the elevator ding when you arrived a couple of minutes ago. He probably should’ve stuck his head out into the hall and warned you, or even reached out to Sam and asked for your number so he could’ve texted you some kind of warning. He had every opportunity to spare you, but instead he sat in his apartment with some random documentary playing on the TV and a cold beer in his hand. He expected you to leave as quickly as you’d arrived, so he was surprised when he heard your footsteps stop short outside his door. If you’d had a sense of hearing anything like his, you would’ve heard him rise from the couch and make his way over to look at you through the peephole in the door. He stares at you now, seeing your nose and cheeks flushed pink from the cold weather, a bag of what looks to be takeout clutched in your left hand while your phone and keys are in your right, and an imperceptible expression written across your features. Why does he feel the sudden urge to invite you in?

         Bucky doesn’t give the situation a second thought. His hand is tugging the door open before he even realizes what he’s doing.

         “I…” You’re about to explain what you’re doing standing outside of Bucky’s door, but you don’t really feel like saying your roommate is fucking my roommate and I have nowhere else to go, so you simply hold the bag of takeout up and offer him a weak smile. “I’ll share.” You feel exposed as his eyes narrow and travel down your frame. He’s analyzing you, or maybe he’s judging you, you really can’t tell. Normally you’re someone who stands tall and holds their own, but in front of this man, you always seem to feel small. You’re about to cut your losses and ditch when Bucky pulls the door open a little more and tilts his head, inviting you in. No fucking way.

         That’s how you ended up a few beers deep on his couch, feeling more comfortable around him than you’ve ever felt in your 6 months of living across the hall from each other. In fact, you felt so comfortable, that you were actively giving him shit about not finding a way to warn you about what you nearly walked in on in your apartment earlier.

         “You knew they were going at it and you were just going to let me walk in there.” You accuse him, clutching your third beer bottle to your chest as you feign a look of offense. Bucky sits on the opposite end of the couch, his gaze feeling heavy on your face. He has this way of looking at people like he can see straight through them, and if you were a little less buzzed, you’d probably feel naked under his stare.

         “How was I supposed to warn you? Leave a sign out in the hall?” He asks, taking a long sip of his sixth beer of the night. He’s far ahead of you, yet still, you’re the only one that’s feeling any effects from the alcohol. You wonder why he even drinks if it has no effect on him. Maybe he just likes the taste.

         “You could’ve texted me, called me, sent a damn carrier pigeon, I don’t know.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you realize that he most likely doesn’t even have your number. Not once has he ever had a reason to call or text you before, so why would he have your contact? “Give me your phone.” You say suddenly, sitting up straighter and setting your near-empty bottle on the coffee table. You hold out your hand and wait patiently as he eyes you closely. He contemplates brushing you off, but he’s finding this new side of you surprisingly amusing, so he decides to let the moment continue. He grabs his phone off of the arm of the couch and unlocks it before placing it in your open palm. You quickly create a contact for yourself, putting in only your first name and phone number. “Text me next time and tell me to stay out longer.”

         “They were going at it for nearly three hours, where would you have hid out?” Bucky wants to know. With the compound off limits, he can’t imagine anywhere else you’d go to waste that much time. Though, he doesn’t know you very well. Maybe you have friends in the city, or hell, even a boyfriend you could crash with.

         “The parking garage, Sam’s house, anywhere but here.” It seems like it’s safe to assume there’s no boyfriend if one of your first choices was Sam’s house, which is forty-five minutes away. Not that he cares. “I guess I should work on finding a good hideout for next time.” You click Bucky’s phone off and lean over the center cushion of the couch, gently setting it on his leg. Once you lean back to your side of the couch, tucking your legs in beside you and grasping your beer in your hand again, you notice Bucky staring. The look on his face is indecipherable, but you can tell that he’s deep in thought. You stare right back at him, tracing the rim of your bottle with your fingertip as you wait for him to say something. What he decides to say though, catches you completely off guard.

         “Maybe you and Vision should switch rooms.”        

-------------------Present------------------------

That’s how you ended up here. Standing in your now shared kitchen while a very shirtless Bucky Barnes continues to wonder why the hell you’re not wearing any pants. You watch him carefully as his sips something from a white mug. It looks so tiny in his hands, so fragile. You’re amazed that he can handle such a delicate item without shattering it. Your eyes begin tracing the veins that decorate the back of his flesh hand, traveling up his forearm until you reach his bicep. God, he really never misses a workout, does he? Wait, why the hell are you looking? You shake your head to clear your mind of whatever thoughts were about to enter and then grab your glass of water from the counter again.

“Goodnight, roommate.” You say somewhat sarcastically, passing behind Bucky on your way back to your room. He catches a whiff of your scent as you pass him. It’s something sweet, maybe vanilla? Whatever it is, he likes it. He rarely ever stood close enough to you before to find out that you smell so damn good. Where is his mind tonight? He’s starting to wonder if something really was off with those beers that you both had earlier.

---

         “Bucky…” His name leaves your lips as a needy moan while you arch your back and focus on his touch. His hands are alternately cold and hot, each sliding up along the outer sides of your thighs at a tantalizingly slow pace. You want to lean back against him, you want to reach between the two of you and line his cock up with your entrance yourself, you want to beg him to fuck you already. “Please.”

         “Shh, be patient, Y/n.” He coos, pressing his lips to your left shoulder. You feel his hard length slip between your legs and brush against your wet folds, teasing you relentlessly. You can’t help the way your hips grind into him, your cunt searching for friction wherever you can find it. He’s quick to grip your waist and still you, ghosting his lips up the side of your neck before they graze over the shell of your ear. “Try that again and you get nothing.” He warns. You’re trembling and he’s barely even done anything to you yet, while you stand right there on display for him, nearly bent over the kitchen sink. You let out a shaky exhale as his right hand leaves your waist. He wraps that hand around his cock and guides the head to glide back and forth along your pussy.

         “Oh, god, please, Bucky.” You’ve been reduced to a quivering, begging mess before him.

         “Tell me what you need.” He demands, continuing his teasing actions between your legs. You let out a whimper as you grip the edge of the kitchen counter.

         “You, I need you.” You say breathlessly, hoping it’s what he wants to hear.

         “You can be more specific than that, Y/n.”

         “I need you to fuck me.” That’s what he needed to hear. He begins slotting his dick into your entrance. You feel the tip just barely stretching—

         You wake up suddenly in a cold sweat, your t-shirt sticking to your heaving chest and your thighs clenched tightly together under the covers. Holy fuck. That’s new. It takes you about a minute to recover and calm your mind enough to fully realize what you just dreamt about…having sex with Bucky Barnes. The man you barely know, who you now share an apartment with. The man who is currently right across the hall from you, probably still shirtless, and in his own bed, and fuck.

         While you were working on coming down from your wet dream, Bucky was lying wide awake in his bed. It was only an hour and a half ago that the two of you exchanged a few words in the kitchen. You scurried off to your room and fell asleep pretty quickly after taking your ibuprofen, but Bucky laid awake, as he usually does. He was actually just starting to drift off to sleep when he heard something coming from behind your door. Great, you talk in your sleep. Or at least that’s what he was assuming, until he strained his ears a little harder and realized he couldn’t make out any fully formed words, only sounds. And the sounds you were making…fuck. They sent all of the blood in his body rushing straight to his dick. You were moaning. You were fucking whimpering. He wanted to write it off as nothing. Hell, maybe you were having a nightmare and those are the sounds you make when you’re scared. But who was he kidding? You were obviously having a sex dream, and his fucking insomnia was keeping him awake to hear it all. Every filthy sound that slipped past your lips was like torture. Bucky found himself squeezing his eyes shut and gripping his quilt in both hands, trying to use all of his willpower to redirect bloodflow away from his lower half. It was wrong to be so turned on by this, by his roommate being unconsciously aroused. When you suddenly went silent, he knew you’d woken up. He thanked every entity he could think of for that.

         He seriously fucked up when he invited you to move in. Little does he know, he will soon be paying for his lapse in judgement, even more than he is right now.

Next Part

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu #bucky barnes x you #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier #bucky barnes smut

[fatuismooches]

principiis amoris.

synopsis: In other words, five times Dottore swore he hated you and the one time he realized it was the opposite.

includes: dottore w/ gn! reader

notes: I wanted to try my hand at these 5+1 fics, and Dottore seemed to be the best candidate. Behold, 6k+ words of fluff. Reader and Dottore are complete menaces (and not very good people) and you also throw a book at someone.

I. blindness

Much to anyone’s surprise, Zandik was having what he would call a good day. Today was the last day of all of his especially boring and easy classes, the illegal parts he secretly ordered came in, and he would be able to stay in his dorm for a while before classes started again. A break from these all these so-called scholars would be much appreciated. He was growing rather tired of them and was greatly looking forward to the much-needed retreat of progressing his research. He could feel it already - the sweet sensation of tinkering with the new parts quickened his pace.

What he was not expecting was his door to be open, voices and rustling noises coming from inside. Immediately a frown appeared and his good feeling was lost. Quickly, he entered the room and saw an unknown figure donning the Akademiya’s robes, and an academic counselor he recognized standing in his room. Now he was glad he made sure to put his tools away. Ones that were totally not prohibited.

“What is the meaning of this?” He didn’t try to hide the loathing in his voice.

The counselor shifted in place, clearly not wanting to be here anymore due to his presence. You, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care. In fact, Zandik could see that you were smiling.

“Ah, hello Zandik. Good to see you are doing well,” she lied through her teeth. “This here is [Name], your-”

“Your new roommate!” you chimed in. The counselor shrunk in her place even more, probably regretting all her life choices now as Zandik’s laser gaze was on her now. 

“I thought I made myself clear when I informed you that I did not want anyone in my dorm?”

“Yes, well, as per the rules of the Akademiya, every scholar should try to have a roommate for the purpose of cooperation…” Her voice became progressively smaller as Zandik continued to burn his gaze onto her, “a-and collaboration. Regardless of your thoughts, [Name] has to try to dorm with someone, and that someone happens to be you.” You nodded your head in agreement as the counselor spoke.

“So please, um, try to get along!” She quickly excused herself and scurried out of the room, leaving the two of you alone. You smiled at him yet again, sticking your hand out for a handshake, to which he only spared a glance and turned away.

“Pleased to meet you! I’m excited to live with you!”

“We’ll see about that,” he scoffed. You’d be out of here in less than a week, just like the few other roommates he had. But to think he had to spend his break with a nuisance in his room now? That irritated him to no end. Though what confused him more was your sunny disposition. Quite literally everyone in the Akademiya knew him and acted the complete opposite.

“Hehe, sure. By the way, I call the top bunk bed!”

It was from that moment he knew.

Zandik hated you.

II. relentless

Zandik had been giving you the cold shoulder since the moment you stepped into his (now yours too) dorm. You knew this would be a tough journey, but damn. At least he was good eye candy and wasn’t loud. (If you excused his eerie laughter in the middle of the night.)

On this particular night, Zandik was at his makeshift workbench tinkering with Archon knows what, as usual. Unfortunately, even though you found it to be interesting, you were unfamiliar with all of that mechanical stuff. You always would look at him while he worked, and while he would sometimes snap at you to stop staring, he never actually did anything about it. Today was one of those nights.

“You’ve certainly been at that for a while,” you commented. Zandik showed no sign of reaction.

“You don’t want anything to eat? Or drink?” you continued.

“Don’t have time,” he responded with no hesitation, far too interested in his new play toys, and also wanting to shut down this conversation immediately. But, you didn’t think these were the ones he usually used. You think he kept the deadlier ones hidden away in case you reported him or something.

“To consume something?”

“To make something right now,” he corrected.

“Well, yeah, I know. That’s why I’m going to make it for you,” you clarified, kind of surprised (but also not) that you needed to say it directly. This managed to make your roommate pause.

“So you are offering to cook for me?” he clarified your statement yet again.

“Yes?” This time he freed his hand of items completely and looked you dead in the eye.

“Explain.”

“E-Explain? Well, I mean, we’re roommates and all, habiting the same space. It only makes sense that we do things we each other once in a while.”

“So you expect a transaction.”

“A transaction…? Huh? No! This isn’t some kind of business deal or whatever. No, I do not expect anything back from you. I am doing this for you because I want to. There’s nothing more to it.” There was no response from Zandik, and he was silent as if he was trying to process what you just said, which was rather cute.

“I do not understand.”

You mentally sighed. “That’s fine, for now. I’m gonna whip something up anyway.” Before he could protest further, you disappeared into the tiny kitchen the Akademiya’s dorms provided.

You had to think of a suitable snack. He probably wouldn’t eat it if it was too cumbersome and distracting from whatever he was doing. He needed some kind of finger food… and you had just the idea. You believed that when you were a struggling Akademiya student, it was only natural to have some good recipes up your sleeve.

Samosas. Delicious bite-sized pieces of goodness. Although they would take a bit to make, you didn’t think Zandik would care. He hardly realized the difference between minutes and hours when he was in this kind of scientific state. And you were glad you stocked up the pantry with your own products because you really had no idea how Zandik lived in these conditions.

Soon enough, you had made a portion for him (and secretly snuck a few for yourself) and you had also made a piping hot cup of coffee, a student’s best friend of course. You then plated it and brought it to your roommate, setting it down in front of him wordlessly, to which he seemed surprised.

Zandik did not realize you were even still doing that. He thought you were bluffing. But now that such aromatic food was right in front of him, his stomach came to life and he noticed the dryness of his throat. With squinted eyes, he tentatively picked up one of the samosas and inspected it. (Did he think you poisoned it or something?) But then he popped one into his mouth and began to chew experimentally. His face did not betray his emotions, but your questions were answered by his next actions.

“Hmm,” he said matter-of-factly, before nomming on another samosa. You peered at him from the top bunk bed as he polished off the bowl of samosas rather quickly. Now, he was waiting for the coffee to cool.

“Sooooo, how was my cooking?” you questioned, already internally knowing the answer even if he didn’t admit it.

“It was convenient,” he admitted. Most of the time, Zandik did not cook for himself, as he found the process a waste of time when he could be doing other things. 

“I’m glad. And the taste?”

“It was fine.” Actually, it was far more than fine. The constant consumption of the easiest food to make had dulled his taste buds and made him accustomed to bland food. Though your food was quite tasty, Zandik was not about to let you get a big head now.

“Just fine? Seemed like you scarfed them down pretty quickly,” you teased.

“The quicker I eat, the quicker I am able to devote my full attention to the research,” he corrected you. You pouted but still felt pleased.

“Then I’ll make something for you every day.”

He felt on guard again at your kindness. “Why?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t I already say? ‘Cause we’re roommates and all, and also soon-to-be friends. And friends usually help each other out, yeah? And also because I’m kind of worried how you eat the same thing over and over.” 

He immediately frowned at your proposal. “I am not your friend. And never will be.”

You shrugged your shoulders and moved to lie down instead, pulling the blankets over you. “Ehe, we’ll see. I have a way with words, you know!” You smiled and winked at him, to which you received a deadpan glare. “Good night, Zandik! Oh, and make sure to clean up afterward!”

“Hmph.”

Friend. He toyed with the word and idea in his head, mocking it internally. Friend… friend, as if that could ever be feasible. Of course not.

Zandik hated you.

III. possessiveness 

It had been a while since you moved in with Zandik, and he stopped treating you with disdain. Though, Zandik was Zandik, so you still got a tongue-lashing from time to time. (But you could never take him seriously anymore, which irritated him.)

Lately, though, he had begun to show you some of his research, and even begun to let you tinker with some of his stuff! Only while he was present of course, but you were elated. Though, he seemed to be enjoying this more than you somehow. You could ask one question and suddenly he’d be on a tangent. But you were just happy he was talking to you.

You had been upgraded from hated stranger to tolerable stranger to okay acquaintance in Zandik’s eyes. You had insisted on calling him your friend, to which he still did not understand, but for some reason he allowed it. Perhaps it was because it felt nice.

Actually, you were a helpful, okay acquaintance. You frequently looked over his notes for him, correcting spelling and grammar errors from when he scribbled so fast. Tidied up his bed and work space too. The best part was that you had begun to run errands for him so he didn’t need to leave the dorm himself. After these series of events, you had declared yourself his assistant without even asking him first, but he supposed that was okay. He valued usefulness. And maybe your company a bit, too. And although he enjoyed silence the most, maybe he liked how nice your voice was in the background.

Today was one of those days where he waited for you to get back from an errand. It was quick and easy, and the seller wasn’t too far away. Like always, he occupied himself with his work and awaited your return, which proved to be fruitful as usual. But after a while, something did not feel right.

Zandik could not put his finger on it. Why did he have this feeling in the back of his mind? He was quite irritated at this itch he could not reach. Perhaps you would have-

That’s right. You. You. You. Where were you? That’s when he realized that you were gone longer than you usually were. To think that his body and mind would get so accustomed to your presence. He wasn’t sure whether to feel disgusted or not by this feeling.

He wondered what was the holdup. But there was naught he could do except wait. And wait. And wait. Until the jiggle of the doorknob drew his attention and you stepped through the door with the items he requested. 

“Hey, Zandik,” you greeted, locking the door behind you and dropping the bag on the table. He didn’t respond, but you didn’t think that was anything strange since he never cared much for greetings. “Got your stuff,” you continued your normal routine, kicking off your shoes and shedding your sweater, expecting the silence to continue.

“What took you so long?” You almost did a double-take when he spoke.

“What?”

“What took you so long?” he repeated.

“Oh, on the way back, some students stopped me and asked if I could explain some stuff to them. I guess I did take a bit longer than usual. Why?” you questioned. Did he really notice the difference? It hadn’t even been that long, maybe ten to fifteen minutes extra that you took. And plus, it’s not like you two were doing anything together. Just sitting in silence with metal clanking as usual.

When you did not get any response, you raised your eyebrows and tip-toed your way over to him to get a glimpse of his expression. It was mostly empty if you ignored the eye twitching and the downward curve. You had to dig your fingernails into your palm to control the chuckles. 

“Could it be… did you miss little old me, Zandik?”

“Perish the thought,” Zandik immediately interrupted before you could even finish your sentence. “Your whereabouts are not my concern,” he vehemently denied.

“Mhm, alright then.”

“I simply do not see why you need to talk to those so-called scholars. They are not worth the time or energy to even look at.”

Ah, there it was. So he was jealous. You understood now.

“Well, I was just doing what a normal, nice person would do.”

“The fact that you are still living with me proves you’re not normal. As for the nice part, you don’t need to do that for anyone.”

“Oh really? So what should I do, turn a blind eye to everyone else and save the sweet words for you?” you joked.

“Yes. Were you not the one who declared yourself as my assistant? Assistants always follow their seniors,” he stated matter-of-factly.

You were completely surprised at his mini confession, that if you spoke carelessly, you knew you’d stutter. But you weren’t complaining. You ignored the heat on your face, and matched his words.

“Hmm… I would say in that case, you can’t speak to anyone either, but it’s not like you do that anyway,” you said simply, biting down on your lip to prevent laughing. Zandik immediately scowled at your statement.

“I don’t need, want, or care to speak to anyone. But since you clearly need to be around these low-tier scholars, you can get out this instant.” You couldn’t help but double over with giggles now at his defensiveness and landed on Zandik’s bed. He huffed. You loved when he acted like this.

“Ah, I’m so glad I asked to dorm with you,” you giggled with a dopey grin. Zandik paused his work, taking in what you just said.

“You… what?”

You turned to lay on your side and propped yourself up on your arm. “Hmm? Did I say something strange?” you questioned.

“You chose to live here? With me, of your own choice? I knew it was strange when the counselor chose me of all people. Surely there were others available?” Zandik was utterly baffled as he had now temporarily abandoned his tinkering to gauge your expression.

“Yes! Shall I recount the exact events for you?” Without waiting for an answer, you prattled on. “Okay so, I went to the counselor lady and she wanted me to dorm with this random guy, and I was like okay cool, but then I got this little sneak peek of the list she had and I saw your name in fancy handwriting. And then I was like, hey, that’s the smart cute morally dubious guy that I hear people talking about! So then I said, nah, give Zandik to me instead please- hey, why is your face kind of red?” 

You ended your little rambling and sat up straight, leaning into your roommate’s face. “Hey, are you embar-” Before you could finish your sentence, he quickly spun back around to face his desk, trying to block out your incessant giggling.

“Shut up,” he hissed in reply, quick to defend himself. “No one in this school would willingly live with me.” And how dare you call him that? That… c-word.

“Well,” you clutched your chest to prevent any more laughter, “That’s clearly not true anymore, because I’ve been here for quite a while! But wow, your face!” You toppled back onto his bed grinning. He swore you were brain-dead. 

Zandik hated you.

IV. like-mindedness

Zandik did not like being in public. That was something you came to realize and understand rather quickly. For the most part, you had no qualms with it. You were quite content with bantering with him in the privacy of the dorm or in the desert or forest looking for whatever specimens he wanted. There were no distractions, no other people to give you weird stares or looks.

It was another normal day for you, and you came to realize that you’d actually been living with Zandik for quite a while. You liked to think that you two were rather close now. The time had flown by quickly for you, but apparently very long for others. To say people were baffled was an understatement. 

People were shocked, fascinated, intrigued, fearful, any word you could think of, at how you managed to dorm with Zandik and still be alive, mentally and physically. Many people even applauded you for managing to live with Zandik for so long. You had people coming up to you asking for tips on how you confronted your fears so easily. The crazier ones even wanted to write a paper on your mental fortitude. (Thankfully your roommate hadn’t found out about that yet.)

Today, however, the two of you decided to stop by Puspa Café after class. It was a nice day to dine outside, and the coffee and food there was excellent. You had no complaints, especially since this was your first time doing this kind of thing with Zandik. It was going quite well, as the two of you read over your notes in silence until whispers began to penetrate the tranquility.

“Hey, look over there. Is that Zandik?”

“Oh wow, you’re right! This is my first time seeing him outside of class.”

“Really? This is my first time seeing him in general.”

“Well yeah, he only goes to class and then back to his dorm. Everyone knows he’s a freak.” Their blathering continued and you twitched your eye, unable to concentrate. You peaked at Zandik but he looked unbothered.

“We’re right in front of them and can still talk about you like that?” You were simultaneously shocked and impressed at their audacity and stupidity. Zandik simply shrugged his shoulders, his uncaring attitude shining through as he was practically immune to these kinds of scenarios now. You huffed and flipped a page in your book. Sometimes you wished you could borrow some of his ability to not care what people think.

But there was only so much you could take. And Archons above, these scholars and their incessant talking were annoying. You had no idea how Zandik could continue to read so intently with this racket. At least he was more pretty when he was quiet.

Slowly you stood up, and Zandik glanced at you, a bit confused but not too interested, still absorbed in his own book. His eyes returned to the text, but then he heard a loud thump from the side. Now more of his attention was on you, as he saw you now closed the thick book shut.

“[Name]?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow. You were now retrieving some Mora, probably for the bill, and laying it on the table. “Do you have business to attend to?”

“Business? You know what, yes, yes I do,” you chuckled a bit eerily. “But it’ll only take a couple of seconds.” With that, you picked up the textbook and lifted it up and down like a weight. Finally, you positioned yourself properly and raised your arm toward the direction of the student.

You threw the fucking textbook.

It was a sight that Zandik would never forget. A heavy book that would hurt anyone’s arm from lugging it around, flew through the air, and with uncanny precision, knocked the scholar right in the face.

It was dead silence for a few seconds.

And then chaos.

Screams erupted from the other students at the table at the sight of their fallen friend. A commotion was born as people scrambled to the boy. Zandik was having a bit of trouble comprehending what just happened. Yes, he just understood that you just threw a textbook at a guy, but he did not understand at the same time. Even he knew not to harm someone in public. (Private was a different case.) And you did it with no hesitation, no logical thought process of what would happen. It was an activity far from what most scholars did.

While he was in a little stupor, you quickly pushed your papers into your bag and slung it over your shoulder. “Hey! Teyvat to Zandik! Don’t just sit there! We have to leave the scene!” you scolded him, taking initiative and stuffing his work into his bag as well. He wasn’t the most pleased with how you treated his precious research material but that was only a fleeting thought compared to what just occurred. You threw his bag over your shoulder as well and cursed at how heavy his damn textbook was. But what he did not expect was what you did next.

Rolling your shoulders back to prepare yourself for the weight, you then grabbed his hand and started pulling him away. 

Zandik then had no words to describe his emotions. He could only focus on the prickles that arose from all over his body at such prolonged and close contact with you. He was used to your teasing - running your hands through his hair on occasion, or leaning in close to his ear to whisper something, but this simply broke his scale. He felt as though he was moving unconsciously, feet moving in sync with yours, and he had no idea how to feel or even understand this phenomenon. 

“Hey, I know you can walk faster than that!” Your voice snapped him out of his unfamiliar sensations, and that’s when he realized what was happening. You had actually managed to drag him so far along that you were both probably halfway through the city looking like complete, bumbling fools. And you were still holding his hand, and that’s when he realized again how lovely you looked in this moment. He quickly discarded those thoughts.

“Release me this instant, [Name],” he threatened, immediately putting his vexed look back up. He could feel your warmth penetrating his whole body just from your hand.

“Sure, sure~! Let’s turn into this alley to hide,” He could tell that was a complete lie because your laugh was so loud it probably rang out all the way to Port Ormos. Zandik scoffed and bit his lip to prevent a smile.

Soon enough, you both reached a secluded part of the city, away from all the hustle and bustle and caught your breath. You slid down a wall in relief and closed your eyes while Zandik had his eyes trained on you for what you just put him through.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he raised an eyebrow at your crazy behavior. You peeked at him and put your hand on your chin, in a thinking position.

“Hmm… well, that was quite fun, was it not?!” you tried to keep a straight face but you could not help but laugh at your friend’s incredulous expression.

“You- we, we are going to get in trouble with the dean you know. And the counselors,” he said, trying to bite down the smile that kept rising when he remembered the expression on the assaulted student’s face.

“We’ll be fineeeee,” you shrugged your shoulders and stretched your letters. “Haven’t you gotten into more trouble with the head administration with your little controversial experiments? Besides, if we’re lucky, he’ll be too scared to report the incident,” you laughed, completely nonchalant about what you just did.

“Hmph. The blame is on you if anything happens,” he attempted to speak in an irritated voice, but he could not help but be amused. A bit elated, even. There were many people he wanted to see get chucked with a textbook. And do worse things too.

But a bit of the thrill came from how you did that with no hesitation. It was a… strange feeling to have someone do that for him. Actually, this whole relationship was strange. You were strange. Even he felt strange. He was honestly a straight-up asshole to you sometimes, like he was to everyone else. But that didn’t drive you off. You still did things for him. You still spoke to him. You didn’t want anything in return, not money, not knowledge, not relics, but perhaps what you did want was-

Zandik stopped that line of thoughts in its tracks, trying to ignore how his hand was all tingly from you holding it. Things were fine this way, he declared. He could not admit he was enamored with you. Nothing needed to change. He had to maintain his view of you, otherwise… 

“You know, I’m surprised I even got you to do that. Did you hit your head too?”

“Shut up.”

Zandik hated you.

(You two did get into trouble. The Akademiya assigned you an apology essay which Zandik refused to do so you had to write two separate essays for each of you. With some begging, he did your homework for you in return, and somehow managed to get the blood stain off of that textbook you had thrown. You didn’t question where he learned that.)

V. kindness

It had been years since that fateful day, the time when you first moved in with Zandik. The Akademiya was a long and arduous grind, but that was to be expected. Your friendship with Zandik was one you cherished more than most things.

To say the two of you were close was an understatement. You still remember the counselor’s expression when you told her how well the two of you were getting along, and that there was no need for you to ever switch roommates. You think she became afraid of you too after that.

Tonight was a relaxed night. Zandik and you were not doing any work, simply laying side by side on his bed. (Even though he always threw fierce words at you, you knew he liked your touch.)

In the beginning, you would never be able to tear him away from that desk, but with time comes new things. You were just happy he was getting more hours of sleep.

The two of you lied in the dark as usual, simply enjoying the cool Sumeru breeze and the muffled noises from the city. You learned to grow content with these simple moments. But tonight you felt like talking.

“Hey, Zandik?”

“Hm?”

“Remember when you met me?” You could feel his head shift to look at you, probably for asking such a dumb question.

“Yes, I do. Too well, actually.”

“What was your first impression of me?” you questioned, realizing you never actually asked him that.

“That you were quite annoying and a thorn in my side.”

Anyone else might have been hurt by these words, but you did not mind. He made it pretty obvious that was how he felt in the beginning anyway, so it was no surprise. “But what about now?”

“You’re fine.” Even in the dark, he could feel your pout and pleading eyes. “And your intelligence and helpfulness deserve to be praised, I suppose.” And then he could feel your smile grow as your face was partially on his shoulder. From then the conversation flowed through many things. That research paper you two were working on, some kind of experiment he wanted to do on you (he swore it was painless), about that one scholar who was always annoying during the lectures.

The more you spoke, the more you realized how much of your life centered around being with Zandik here. You didn’t know if you ever wanted to graduate. To ever be apart from him.

“You know, I’ve been thinking. How long do you think we’ll live here?”

“Hmm, it’s hard to say. The benefits the Akademiya provides are far too good to let go of now. Speaking of that, there’s somewhere I want to visit.” 

“Oh, you mean those hidden ruins you think are connected with Khaenri’ah?” How nice it would be if you could just drape your arm over his chest.

“Yes. Though I don’t know if the Akademiya will let me make another trip back to the desert as of right now,” he pondered.

“Are you referring to how you’ve been on the Matra’s watch list for years? So they started following you everywhere?” you giggled.

“Not just me. You too, [Name],” he rolled his eyes. “At least I never threw a book at someone in public.” You pouted and playfully punched his arm.

“C’mon, that was so long ago! You can stop bringing it up!” you whined. He would never let that go, huh? The conversation died down from there, but it was a comfortable silence, which you loved. After that little banter, your eyes began to droop and you yawned. Zandik glanced at you.

“Tired?” You nodded and blearily rubbed your eyes.

“Sleep, then,” he commanded, and you had no qualms with following that. Soon enough, Zandik was the only one left awake, staring out at the open window. He had found these little resting sessions of yours good for clearing his mind. He closed his eyes too. 

Two people, on the same tiny, college-sized bed, arms brushing each other and talking nonchalantly. Totally, two good friends.

Friends. Friends, friends, friends. Long ago, the word left a distasteful feeling in his mouth, and it still did, but not for the reason he originally felt. Now, what he desired was more complicated.

Zandik hated you.

VI. endless

Zandik knew he would be expelled from the Akademiya soon, for the crimes he committed. And yet, instead of preparing for any future plans, he found himself following the directions of a note you left on his workbench. Meet me at our usual spot, 8 PM.

He was a busy man, more so in soon-to-be exile. He didn’t have time for your frivolous games. But for some reason, he found himself heading over to the cliff anyway. It was dark outside, but the stars illuminated your figure, and that was when he noticed the basket next to you as well. You noticed him and sat up eagerly.

“Hey, you made it! I was worried you wouldn’t come, to be honest.”

“...What is this?”

“Eh? A picnic, of course. The weather is real perfect for one.”

He was so astonished that the laugh building in his throat could not come out immediately. Surely you were aware of what he had done? Practically everyone in the Akademiya knew. You couldn’t walk for five minutes without hearing rumors floating around. Or perhaps you were that oblivious?

“Oh really?” His familiar, eerie laugh that you loved finally rang out. “Did a Ruin Guard finally toss you around well enough? Only an idiot wouldn’t know what I’ve-”

“I mean, do killers not like picnics anymore?” You replied so nonchalantly, he was actually a bit shocked. 

“You’re… you’re frustrating,” he murmured.

The way you managed to make him so tongue-tied all the time made him itch to put you in your place, to snap back somehow, but he found himself unable to lately. Actually, he struggled to do that for a while now, and he despised how you made him feel like a bumbling fool.

“Heh, perhaps some of your unhingedness rubbed off on me,” you shrugged, patting down the spot next to you. “Look, I made samosas for you again.”

The blanket was soft and comfy, and though he didn’t care much for the flavors of food, he did enjoy your cooking. You continued to polish off your meal before you spoke again.

“So, I hear you’re going to be expelled soon.”

“Correct. Though I care little for this place, it’s a shame to lose a suitable environment for my research.”

“Have you decided where you’re going? I’m sure you’re not planning to stay exiled in the desert for the rest of your life,” you hummed. “Leaving this country, perhaps?”

“That seems to be the most logical action. There is nowhere in this nation that would fund my research.”

“I see. You’re going far away from here.” Zandik nodded in reply, but the more he thought about it, the more irritated he felt. Far away from here meant far away from you.

To think he felt no remorse for murder but he felt a tingle of emotion (sadness? regret? anger?) at no longer being with you. Whatever it was, it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He loathed to admit it, but he enjoyed your company. He enjoyed dragging you out of bed in the morning, and he enjoyed you dragging him to bed at night. He enjoyed your bantering, your inquisitive nature towards his work. He enjoyed being the only person you’d treat like this and having one person to himself. Zandik enjoyed you, thoroughly and fully.

“Well, keep me updated. I already got my bags packed and ready to go.” 

“What?” A quirk of yours, he realized, was being able to leave him surprised at the most unpredictable times. Although scholars must plan for every possibility, he found it difficult to prepare for yours.

“I’m coming with you, of course. You’re gonna need your number one assistant with you. Hey, why’d you stop eating? We still need to get through the Padisarah Pudding.”

“You? Accompany me?” All of a sudden, everything made perfect sense. Yes, of course! You were right, he thought, as a fit of laughter overcame him. It was a splendid idea, one that pleased him immensely. Having you with him would be a great asset for his research. No one suited the role better than you. And you, in general, were… nice. You didn’t grate on his nerves like everyone else.

“Ha! Good! Amazing, even! I shall be sure to tell you when we depart from this nation of fools.” You raised your eyebrows at his sudden enthusiasm, but witnessing Zandik’s bursts of inspiration was nothing new to you either. 

“Well, glad to see you’re so keen on it,” you chuckled. “But I have a request. Actually, it’s more like something I have to say to you before we embark on this. It’s crucial, really.”

“Oh? Do tell.” He wasn’t rich, but he had the ability to procure a wide variety of items. The Nation of Wisdom was more corrupt than one would think. But he did wonder what you would ever want. You didn’t chase after material goods like the majority of humans.

“To be frank, I like you,” you declared, looking right into his eyes. At that moment, it felt like the world had gone silent. The wind stopped blowing, the animals lied low, the grass no longer rustled. “I like you. I want to be more than just friends with you,” you stated bluntly. You felt that getting straight to the point was the best course of action with Zandik, since many things besides his research and manipulating people tended to go over his head.

“So, what do you say?”

There was no response. You attempted to build your case.

“By the way, did you think I’d go through all this trouble if I didn’t want to be with you? I didn’t dorm with you for no reason, you know.”

“...”

“For such a smart guy, you aren’t very good at this, are you? Well, I can’t be too mad. I’ve been dealing with the denseness for a few years now. You know, I’ve been making the first moves this whole time.”

“...” 

The lack of response was beginning to make you nervous. You preferred the maniacal laughter of rejection at this point. “H-hey, I’d like a reply, you know. You don’t need to accept-”

Zandik thought. And he found that the words he spoke next were genuine.

“I find you… agreeable as well.”

You couldn’t help but throw your head back and laugh, shoulders now relaxed. “Why, such an amazing compliment from the high and mighty Zandik has me even more lovestruck!” He wanted to be mad, he really did, but it was at this moment he understood what it meant to be mesmerized by another person. He had found himself mesmerized by ancient machines, ruins, texts, his research. But he truly found you beautiful, your giggles echoing through the night.

“I’m agreeable, yes?” You turned to face him, your body leaning in closer to his. “Am I agreeable enough to do… this?” You tentatively glided your fingers over his hand, gauging to see how far Zandik would let you go. He stiffened at the foreign contact, clearly unused to it, but let you continue.

“What about this?” You slid your hand up and down his arm, keeping your eyes on his face the whole time. He tried not to show any emotions, besides a half-hearted scowl, but you could still see the red tips of his ears. He was so cute.

You scooted closer to him and let your other hand rest on Zandik’s thigh. “I think I’m much more than agreeable in your books,” you teased, cupping his cheek. He scoffed in response but did nothing to refuse your advancement. You leaned in and connected your lips with your lover’s. It felt damn good. Zandik had no idea what he was doing, but it was endearing nonetheless. You kissed him again, and again, and he reciprocated, albeit a little awkwardly. Your heart soared as you pulled away, and placed a few final kisses on his cheeks.

“Now, how did that feel?” You already knew the answer to that, of course. You knew Zandik for a long time, and could tell when he was in a shitty mood, a bad mood, a grumpy one, an excited one, a happy one, and much more. This mood was one you haven’t seen until now, but it sure was a good one. Completely flustered was a great look on him.

“I… I cannot come to a definitive answer as of now. I would say that I need to carry out some more experiments to reach a conclusion.”

“Oh? Then I’m a willing participant for however long as you want,” you smiled, finding comfort in his soft, teal locks. 

And that’s when Zandik truly realized. You were more tolerable than the rest. You were bearable enough to want to keep you around forever. Smart enough for him to desire to hear your honeyed voice. Soft enough to want to feel your skin against his. Ah, he would never say it though, as he brushed his lips over yours once again.

Zandik loved you.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #dottore fluff #il dottore #genshin il dottore #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui x reader #dottore angst #zandik x reader #genshin impact dottore #genshin impact zandik #genshin dottore #genshin impact il dottore #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines

[muniimyg]

8.5: exiled 》 series m.list

note: hi.... bye..... lol

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//

“Get off of her!” 

All eyes are on you as you shove a drunk guy off Mina. He's probably twice your size, but it doesn't matter. Her eyes widen as you take her by the arm and hide her behind you like a child. She almost trips over her own feet, but finds balance as Yuna catches her. Yuna stands behind Mina, keeping her in the middle. Automatically, Mina feels safe.

The man puts his hands up and feels all eyes shift to him. 

Poorly, he tries to take a step towards you. Glaring at him, you don’t back away. Yuna tugs your arm to do so, but you ignore her. Instead, you stay as you are. Why would you back down? Why should you be scared? The man chuckles, unable to process what’s happening. He slurs his words, “I was just trying to talk to her.”

You find his ignorance ridiculous. Coyly, you call him out. “Since when did 'trying to talk to her' involve your hands on her ass?” 

His crooked smile drops at your words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Without much thought, you take a step towards him. Angrier than ever, you want to yell at his face, slap him, and tell him he’s a sad excuse of a man. You hate him. He boils your blood and you love the idea of swinging at him. It takes every ounce of strength for you not to.

It's not such a bad idea, right?

The moment you move your feet and raise your hand, Yuna calls for Taehyung. 

It's a little annoying how in moments like these, it’s difficult to deny that they just might be a match made in heaven. Like magic, Taehyung makes his way through the crowd and places himself in between you and the drunk man. 

Taehyung eyes the guy, steadily with an intimidating gaze. His tone is cold and irritated. He has never been the one to entertain drama—especially the kind that involves his friends. 

“You bothering my friends?” He asks. "I'd suggest you don't."

The man huffs at him before deciding this isn't worth it. He backs off, not bothering to look back or utter another word. The crowd parts for him as his friends help him out of the house. By the time he disappears, Taehyung yells: “Ayo, what the fuck is everyone on? Since when did we let creeps in? Since when do we let each other be treated like that?”

“Taehyung—”

“No, Yuna," Taehyung pauses only to raise his voice. "That was so fucking weird! Since when do we stand around and let them do stupid shit—“

“Tae,” Yuna grabs his arm, and she attempts to calm him. “Everyone is drunk. No one is going to listen to your speech. It’s okay. Nothing escalated and you came right on time.”

He has a difficult time accepting her words.

“Just because it’s okay this time doesn’t mean it’s okay next time,” he huffs. Yuna hushes him and pulls him in a hug. Taehyung rests his chin on top of her head and murmurs, “You’re okay, right? Did he touch you?” 

Yuna shakes her head and proceeds to tell Taehyung to relax. She explains that it wasn’t even her that needed the rescue—it was Mina. Though it was a concerning matter, Taehyung doesn’t care. He takes any and every opportunity to protect Yuna. To him, only Yuna mattered. He pouts, feeling sulky at the fact that she was almost caught in an uncomfortable situation. 

The two drift into their own world, leaving you and Mina. 

Turning to her, you ask, "Are you okay?"

Mina nods, taking a breath in. She can't believe all of that happened within 5 minutes. It was all so fast. Hastly, she answers you. "Y-yeah, I am. Thanks for that..."

Simply, you offer a small smile and nod. Just as you're about to take off and find Yuna, Mina reaches for your hand. You hesitate, not knowing what to do. Although that doesn’t matter, The alcohol in her system gives her confidence as she takes your hand and tugs you in for a hug. By now, it’s clear that her state is well past tipsy.

Mumbling, she reveals, “My friends would’ve just stood there. The last time something like this happened, Jungkook swooped in to save me—”

“Why do your friends just stand there?” you ask rather angrily. That's annoying. Shouldn't girls stick together? Shouldn't friends do more than let bad things happen? Mina's words make you upset and lead you to a protective point of view. You pull away and look at her sternly. “You need new friends.”

She laughs, trying to play it cool. “They’re just shy…”

“That’s no excuse,” you tell her. “If that shit happens again, text me. Yuna and I will come to your rescue. I literally hate it when guys are—”

“You’re nice,” she says softly. Mina says it like it's the newest discovery the world needs to know of. She says it like it's mindblowing. You can't help but crack a smile at her as she continues. “L-like, I knew you were nice… But this is your first time being nice to me.”

You pause for a second.

Were you intentionally mean to her? You never meant to be (aside from the blowjob thing). Seeing her alone and in distress makes you feel like the most horrible person in the entire world. You want to say sorry. You want to beg for forgiveness and hope for a reset with her.

Let's be real.

Rebuilding or restoring—whatever the fuck you need to do to fix things between you and Mina—can't happen overnight. No flowery words or protective action can make up for the strain in your potential friendship with her.

You opt for the most rational path.

Baby steps.

“I guess I just never had the opportunity to be your friend,” you almost stutter.

Your words catch her off guard. 

Mina blinks at you. “I thought you didn’t like me. Why would you be my friend?”

You chuckle, a little taken back by her honesty. “Who said I didn’t like you? Jungkook?”

She shakes her head profusely. “N-no… No one really.. I just assumed. And, speaking of which…. Let’s go this way.”

By now, the crowd had already forgotten and moved on from what had happened 5 minutes ago. Everyone takes their place, occupying the house, and leaving you and Mina no choice but to move out of the way. Even though she’s drunk and stumbling through the crowd, she remembers where she last saw Jungkook. 

As she leads you to the backyard, she pauses at the sliding door. Outside, you can see Jungkook sitting on the grass with a drink in his hand. Yuna and Taehyung are sitting on the patio deck, talking to each other and watching over Jungkook. 

“I don’t not like you,” you admit to her. Your wording is confusing, especially to a drunk girl trying to comprehend your attempt at warmth. “Not liking you… versus not liking the fact that you like Jungkook are two different things… I think I was insecure. I was immature about it. I didn’t mean to be mean. I’m sorry I was selfish. I’m sorry if it ruined what you and Jungkook had.”

“You’re sorry about ruining my one-sided romance with him?” Mina frets, holding back tears. 

With no words to give her, you stay quiet. 

Breaking the silence, she asks with a sad smile: “What if I still like Jungkook?” 

It would be a lie to say that her words didn’t frustrate you. Truth be told, the entire idea of her still being into him makes you feel uneasy. Given that your fight with Jungkook blew up at the mention of her name—it’s not easy to move past. 

But you figure… Maybe you should. Maybe pushing through all the insecurity, ache, and pettiness is what needs to be done. There are so many good things in life and friendship is one of those things. She doesn't need to be your best friend or anything—but maybe she could be a good friend. At least, someone you could wave at as you cross paths.

Playfully, you nudge her. She reacts just as playfully and helps you unlock the patio door. 

“Then I guess you’re right,” you laugh, trying to sound as lighthearted as possible. “I don’t like you at all.”

For the first time, Mina throws her head back and laughs for real. 

You join her and laugh a little harder. Her reaction makes you feel a sense of relief and in that, for a split second, it felt comfortable and easy between you two. Like you had been friends all along. Like there was no bad start. No bad blood. When your laughter dies down, Mina takes a deep breath and makes a final confession. 

“I really wanted to be your friend,” her teary eyes give in. She lets a tear roll down her cheek as she continues. Sniffing, she admits, “I really wanted you to like me… You’re so pretty and you and Yuna have this nonchalant bestie behaviour that I'm honestly jealous of—“

“You’re so pretty too,” you say in awe. You can't help but feel flattered at her words but also a little bad that her luck seems to be quite the opposite of yours. “Let's put a pin on your friends for now... You’re really drunk, babes.”

“I know!” she cries with a smile. Mina throws her hands in the air like an overdramatic child. You've always known her to be cute, but this was the cherry on top.

She's cute! You don't want to rip her head off too! Progress.

Sighing, you ask, “How are you gonna get home?”

Mina shrugs.  “Dunno. Friends ditched me.”

You frown. 

“I’ll get Yuna and Taehyung to take you home… Is that okay? I'd do it myself but I think Jungkook needs my attention right now. Also, I don’t really trust the people at this party around you.” 

For the second time tonight, your words touch Mina. 

Oddly enough, your concern for her only makes her even more sad. It only makes her even more angry at the universe. In a sick way, she wishes you were mean. If you were mean, maybe it would be easier hating you. Instead, your honesty with your words pushes her into a dilemma. Should she hate you out of spite? Should she like you just because of this one good moment? Does she give it all up and let her growing resentment go? 

You look at her fondly and her mind is made up. 

You were forgiven. 

“I get it,” she sniffs, as she makes the connections in her mind. You tilt your head at her, eyebrows knit together.

“Get what?”

“I get why Jungkook wants to be loved by you so bad."

Mina doesn't continue her sentence. Puzzled, you aren't sure if there was more to it. You aren't sure if she was just that drunk. You aren't sure what it even means... Regardless, you're thankful.

One thing about Jungkook is that he’s good at drinking. 

In every beer pong game, every drinking game, and ice challenge—he has never had an issue getting drunk. He always had fun too! Drinking was easy for him. At least, it was easy until you. 

Drinking and having feelings for you all at once is not his favourite mix. 

God, he hates this so much. 

It feels like no drink is enough. No amount of shots or refills in his red cup will ease how he feels. Every shot he takes, as he shuts his eyes and throws his head back, he dedicates to you. How could he not? You’re the reason he’s drinking so fucking much anyway. 

He can’t think straight anymore. There isn’t a single thought in his head that makes sense and even counting is difficult now. Jungkook doesn’t know how many drinks he’s had. He lost count of the amount of shots he took by himself and with others. At one point, he thought his alcohol was water and chugged it.

Then, when he realized it wasn’t water… He threw up on Taehyung.

But that was minutes ago. For a good 10 minutes, he was left alone outside in the dark. Oddly enough, it was the first time in two weeks that he didn’t feel alone. His usual emptiness wasn’t consuming him.

There’s a stillness under the night sky that simply gives him peace. It lasts for a good 10 seconds before he thinks of you again… Not that he hasn’t been thinking of you every second of every day for the past two weeks—right now, he’s really thinking of you.

He’s thinking of how you laugh a beat after the punchline is said. He’s thinking of how you always hesitate to hold his hand. He’s thinking about the way you always take Yuna’s side even when she’s clearly wrong. He’s thinking about how much he wished he could’ve been that stupid fucking perilla leaf because it meant being close to your lips.

Then, he lets himself laugh.

It’s silly, isn’t it? Aside from being jealous of Eunwoo, he was also jealous of the perilla leaf itself.

How fucking hilarious.

Then, it gets worse.

As he continues to think about you, he swears he can see you making your way to him. Your figure comes closer and closer. Jungkook rubs his eyes, not wanting this to be a dream. Could it be true? Is it really you? Why… How the fuck did you get here? When?

With Eunwoo?

Oh my god.

He feels like he might cry.

“Jungkook,” you rush over to him and take the red cup out of his hand. Without hesitation, you pour out the alcohol and then toss the cup aside. He isn’t sure how, but you have a water bottle. It appears like magic and you open it. You don’t bother exchanging words with him as you bring the water to his mouth and tilt it.

He takes three big gulps before turning his face away.

“You need to drink more water,” you say softly, moving in closer to him. He looks at you weirdly, still not processing that you’re actually beside him. 

It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him.

It feels like a fever dream.

“___? A-are you really here?”

His voice cracks. He sounds unsure and almost afraid. As much as it breaks your heart, you force yourself to put on a brave face.

Nodding, you offer him a smile. “Yeah, it’s me,” you attempt to give him water again. He rejects. “Come on, Jungkook. You need to drink more water—”

He shakes his head, rejecting you. 

“Pookie—”

“Yah, ___!” Jungkook pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “Don’t call me that. Fuck, ___. You should know when to stop.”

You blink at him. His harshness is difficult to be upset over. You can't blame him for feeling whatever he's feeling. It's valid. You've been an absolute idiot. Yet, your face can’t hide the disappointment you feel from being treated like that. 

Jungkook’s stern face suddenly drops. You’ve never seen such emotion. His lips twitch, as he tries to hold in his sobs. He hasn’t cried over you yet. In the span of the two weeks apart—he has just been avoiding his feelings. Avoiding you.

Now, here you are.

In front of him in all your heartbreaking glory and he can’t find it in himself to walk away. He can’t think of a single thing to say or do. Truth be told, he just wanted to look at you because holy shit.

He missed you so much.

“Seriously,” you press, “please… Just drink a little more water—”

Jungkook hits the water bottle out of your hand. It practically flies to the other side of the yard. You stand still, trying to keep yourself calm. It’s not like you were afraid of him or his temper—you’re afraid of what’s going to happen now.

His words.

“Do you honestly think I give a shit about water right now?” Jungkook growls. “Fucking think about it, ___.”

You take a breath in.

“What are you doing, Jungkook?”

Silence.

You continue, “Why are you drinking so much?”

He stares at you with a blank expression. 

Fine. 

You can’t help yourself by saying something that you know will bring out a reaction from him. “Jungkook, why’d you ask for a break?”

The most that happens is that he squints at you. He remains silent. 

Sighing, you make one last attempt. “I’m not good at this, okay? Tell me what to do and I’ll—”

“Say sorry.”

Immediately, you do so. You apologize. “I’m sorry.”

“Tell me you have feelings for me too.”

That’s when you notice his fists are all curled up and his chest rises dramatically from taking deep breaths. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He lowers his gaze, searching for your eyes. Then, Jungkook snaps. He can’t hold it in any longer. There are too many questions flooding his mind and at this point—ruining his life.

“Tell me you hate me then,” he insists. “___, tell me it’s my fault. Please. I’m begging you. Tell me I’ve been delusional about everything going on between us and that I had no right to act like a wuss over a fucking perilla leaf because I don’t mean shit to you. Tell me, ___, w-why don’t you wa-want m-me?”

His voice betrays him. It cracks as his words spill his sadness. A small sob, followed by a real one, escapes his lips. He buries his face into his hands as his shoulders shake from his cries. 

Jungkook is a mess.

He is mindlessly drunk and completely heartbroken. You reach out for him, but he shakes you off. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay? When you’re not crying or this drunk—please, Jungkook. I’m begging you.”

“No! It’s no use.” Jungkook begins to sob even harder. He clenches the left side of his shirt, where his heart is, and hits it once, twice, and then a third time. It’s breaking and in no time, his heart will turn into stardust. He knows it. Even so, he cries like his words are his dying wish. “I like you so much my chest hurts. My words lose meaning because there is no way for me to explain that the answer doesn’t change—it’s always the same fucking answer to the stupidest goddamn question—oh my god, ___! I can’t keep pretending anymore—it hurts so bad. Being with you hurts so bad… Being without you is death. I felt like I was dying."

“Breathe,” you plead, as you search for his eyes. “Jungkook, take a minute.”

It’s devastating.

Jungkook is in complete agony and you don’t know what to say or do to ease his pain. If you say what he wants to hear—will that fix everything? Will he stop crying? Will he accuse you of lying? You don’t know. All you know is that it feels like the sky is falling.

“I think I’ve had feelings for you since the first time I’ve ever made you laugh… And I miss that, ___. I miss making you laugh.” In a sad attempt to compose himself, he reaches for your hand. You let him take it. What else can you do when the guy you’re falling for is falling apart in front of you? You let him take your fucking hand. You hold his hand tight and bite your tongue from letting your stupid words ruin this moment. 

“I remember it, y-you know?” he sniffs, trying to catch his breath. “B-but I don’t remember the joke I told you. In all honesty, I was too busy looking at you. Like, when I made you laugh, your eyes smiled before your lips did… A-and I remember my heart skipping a beat b-because it never did that before.” 

His confession moves you. 

Although, your heart feels conflicted. You don't even remember the first time he's made you laugh. He always makes you laugh. It’s flattering to find out how deeply he felt for you, but it is also extremely heartbreaking watching him go through this. It hurts you much deeper than you’re expressing. You feel frozen and it’s not by choice.

All you manage to say is; “slow down.” 

He does.

This was harder than he thought it would be. Not that ever thought confessing his feelings to you would be easy—he just never thought it would be like this. Drunk. Crying. Already brokenhearted before his actual confession.

He wanted it to happen better than this. He wanted it to happen lovingly, not desperately. If he had it his way, it should’ve happened at the party. 

He should’ve taken your hand as you walked down the stairs together. He should have asked you out as you two got dressed. Jungkook regrets it so much. If he had more time—if Eunwoo had never shown up… Maybe you two would have been together tonight. Maybe he would’ve been happy. 

Instead, he was downing shot glasses of tears and drunk in love. 

Jungkook turns away from you and tries to focus on his breathing. As he catches his breath, you gather your thoughts. You don’t want to lose him. You don’t want him to think that you’re okay with everything that’s going on—you’re not. You have feelings for him, sure, but you aren’t sure if they’re as deep as his… At least, that’s what you think. Then, that’s when it hits you.

They are, aren’t they? 

If they weren’t, you wouldn’t be here right now. You wouldn’t be holding his hand like a fucking bitch. 

Your feelings are just as deep as his. That’s why you’re here, holding his hand, and wanting to talk things through sober. You want it to mean more than a drunken confession. You want him to mean more than what you’ve been downplaying him to be. As you process these thoughts, he lets go of your hands. He takes a few steps away from you and paces back and forth. As much as he hates to do this, Jungkook draws the boundary.

“Do you even think about me?” He asks with a slightly irritated tone. “Because it feels like you don’t. You never texted me once—”

“You asked for the break.” Unintentionally, you say it like a smartass. 

He huffs at you. “Still. You should have texted—”

“Are you actually mad at me, Jungkook? Or are you upset that—”

“I miss you. Every day that passed, I missed you so much. You didn’t even text. You didn’t even hold your gaze when I caught you staring at me… And I had to play it cool, ___. I had to act like I wasn’t fucking dying inside. I’ve been so miserable—and you knew it. You must have known it because the happiest I’ve ever been has only been with you.” Jungkook’s mind spins faster and faster. He has to get all these words out. They’ve clogged up his mind and he’s so sick of it. 

He’s tired of this. How much longer could he live like this? How much longer does he have to wait for your heart to choose him?

“I waited for your text,” he whimpers. “I have waited for you every day. Over and over again. Day after day—and I c-can’t—” Jungkook pauses to compose his final words. “I did it all alone. I caught feelings by myself. I waited all by myself.”

“Jungkook—”

“I got ahead of myself.” 

You can't believe how foolish he sounds. How the only he got ahead of were your words. Honestly, you can't blame him. All you can really do is let him cry. Then, without warning, he begins to storm away.

You run after him.

Before he knows it, you wrap your arms around his torso. Hugging him from the back, you hold him tight. Jungkook is startled and completely moved. He wants to turn around and melt in your embrace... But for some reason, he can't do it. He can't give in this time. He can't stay and wait for you to fucking get it together. That's why, he does it. It's like he takes hold of the knife stabbed into your heart and pulls it out.

Then, you're left there bleeding as he tears away from your grasp.

For the first time, you watch him walk away. As he enters the house and you're left all alone, you try to rationalize everything in your head... But you can't.

You've been exiled.

#bts fanfic #bts fic rec #jk angst #jungkook angst #jungkook smau #jungkook fic

[mydemimonde]

'Cherry Bomb' | Michael Gavey x Reader (Part 2)

a/n: part 2 of cherry bomb is here! i want to thank you again for the likes, comments and reblogs on the first part, it really means a lot and i'm glad you liked it ♡ there will be a third part, lmk if you'd like to be tagged. enjoy!

Summary: After thanking Michael for what he did for you, you can't stop thinking about how much you desire him, how much you want him. And you always get what you want.

Words: 4000ish

Warnings: +18 (minors do not interact!), female reader, no use of y/n, not specific physical description, reader being an absolute menace!, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, handjob, lots of dirty talk, masturbation (f and m), teasing/sex in public, cum eating

And touch yourself indeed you do.

As soon as you return to your dorm you immediately lie back on your bed, hike up your skirt and pull your lace panties aside. You hiss when your fingertips graze your wet folds, sucking Michael Gavey’s dick having this effect on you.

Seeing Michael Gavey squirm under your touch and hearing him whimper and moan has this effect on you.

You rub your swollen clit with your index and middle finger, feeling your entire body on fire. You lazily lower your hand until you feel your cunt practically sucking your fingers in, your arousal making it easier for you to start pumping them in and out of you as whines and soft moans escape your lips.

Your chest heaves with your breathing, you close your eyes as you remember the feeling of Michael’s lips moving against yours, his tongue exploring your mouth frantically, his gaze on you as you lowered your body to kneel in front of him, how beautiful he sounded when your mouth wrapped around his cock, how heavy it felt in your mouth. You can’t wait until having him like that again.

You play with your tits with your other hand, feeling your nipples harden when you pinch them. You never stop thinking about Michael and his large, veiny hands. You picture him caressing your body, squeezing your breasts and maybe even choking you. His long, slender fingers inside your cunt, reaching that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

The room is filled with the wet, lewd sounds of your cunt and your curses and breathy moans. Your walls clench around your fingers, your orgasm approaching as you pump them faster, curling them to reach the most sensitive spot inside you. The heel of your palm presses against your swollen clit repeatedly, making you gasp. You reach your peak with a muffled moan, careful not to be heard.

With your eyes closed you try to catch your breath, wave after wave of pleasure running through your body. You slide your fingers out of your pussy and lick them, tasting your own arousal.

You don’t know what Michael did to you, but you want him. And you always get what you want.

The next day you don’t see Michael until lunch time. He’s sitting alone, like he always does. You sit on the chair in front of him, hoping to be noticed but he doesn’t even lift his head, too focused on finishing his salad.

You clear your throat and with a honeyed voice you say his name. “Hi there, Michael.”

You see how his eyes widen for a moment before swallowing his food hard. “H-hi.” He grabs a napkin and wipes his mouth. “I didn’t see you there, sorry.”

“It’s okay baby” the pet name you give him makes him feel goosebumps. You have your legs crossed under the table, your foot drawing circles in the air. “Are you busy today?”

“Uhm yeah I… I have to study. Have a maths quiz tomorrow” he replies as he finishes his salad and wipes his mouth again.

“Oh, but you don’t need to study, Mikey” you lean in and place one hand on top of his. His hands are significantly bigger than yours, and that awakens something inside you. “You’re so smart.” You uncross your legs and with the help of your left foot, you take your right shoe off.

Michael’s eyes widen when he feels your bare foot creeping up his leg, making its way up. “You should relax a little bit, Mikey. Loosen up, have fun.” You tilt your head as you keep moving your foot, thankful for the long tablecloth. “I have a few ideas, you know?”

He gasps when your foot presses against his crotch. “Fuck” he curses under his breath, fists clenching  as he tries to compose himself. He gives you a deadly look, jaw clenched and brows furrowed. This only adds to your desire for him.

You decide to have some mercy for the poor guy, so you lower your foot and start eating your meal as if nothing happened. Michael lets out a barely audible sigh, shifting in his seat as he tries to hide his obvious erection under the tablecloth. This can’t be fucking happening.

You try to hide a smile, eating your delicious pasta with bechamel sauce while wicked ideas cross your mind.

You eat the last forkful of pasta, letting some sauce drip down the corner of your mouth. “Mmm, delicious” your soft moan catches Michael’s attention, sucking in his breath as you wipe your mouth, looking at him.

He shakes his head and stands up quickly, abandoning the hall. You chuckle and take a sip of water, already planning your next encounter with him.

Michael slams the door of his dorm and quickly gets rid of his pants, cursing when he sees the wet patch near the tip. He rests his head against the door, closing his eyes as he pumps his cock through his boxers.

“F-fuck…” he’s so painfully hard, he can explode at any moment if he doesn’t take care of it soon. His mind travels to the day before, when you were kneeling between his legs with his cock in your mouth. That night, a few hours after you left, he jerked off to the thought of you, again.

He’s done that a couple of times, he has to admit. Ever since the day he saw you for the first time, how sweetly you talked to him and how nice his name sounded from your lips. He should be ashamed of behaving like a horny teenager, but fuck it. The way you looked at him, how you talked to him, straight out of his dreams.

You’re fucking dangerous to him; he knows it, and you know it too.

He takes off his boxers, spits in his hand and immediately wraps it around his cock, whining at the contact. He wishes it’s your mouth though, warm, wet and welcoming. He wonders if that’s how your cunt would feel too, maybe tighter.

His hand works up and down, wet sounds filling the room as he remembers how wet you were from just sucking his cock, how you touched yourself while your mouth was on him. He’s not going to last long, not when he’s thinking about your moans and whimpers.

He speeds up the movement of his hand, chest heaving and gritted teeth, closer and closer to his orgasm.

He even wonders if you touched yourself like you said you would, picturing you pleasuring yourself while thinking of him is what makes him explode. He hisses out your name as he comes, hot ropes of spend coating his lower stomach, cock twitching in his palm.

Michael takes a few moments to catch his breath, looking at the mess he made. When he finally softens, he goes to the toilet and cleans himself, grabbing a new pair of clean boxers to put on. After all, he has one more lecture to end the day. Hopefully, that would keep him busy.

He can’t let anything distract him from his studies, especially not you.

With your books in hand, you enter the library. It’s almost noon, so it’s not too crowded, most of the students in their rooms, most likely.

You’re there to look for Michael, of course, also to study but mostly for Michael. The way he looked at you earlier, that menacing look on his face did nothing but turn you on. You want to unleash the beast that he probably is, you’re not stopping until Michael Gavey is in your bed.

You spot him reading and making some notes on an empty desk at the end of the library, so you take a seat on the other side of the desk.

He notices you immediately, the smell of your perfume invading his nostrils. You see him swallow hard, nodding at you when you say hi.

You open your books and start reading, actually focusing on the written words despite having Michael near you. Plus, you teased him enough earlier, poor chap had to run to his dorm to jerk off, because of course he did.

After teasing him during lunch you felt somewhat… terrible. A tiny voice in your head is constantly bothering you, telling you that what you are doing is wrong. Michael’s not like the guys you typically date or have sex with, and not only because he’s a virgin.

Everyone says Michael Gavey is an insufferable, full of himself and creepy guy, and even though you don’t know him 100%, you wouldn’t say that it's true. He can be complicated at times, but that doesn’t make him a totally awful person. He’s rather sweet when he wants to, adorable too.

You don’t want him to feel used, even though you’re not doing that. You’re just acting on your desires, and you know he craves you as well. He’s just playing hard to get. And that’s what makes him different from the rest, that’s why you want him.

Almost two hours pass by, and the library is empty except for the two of you. You look around, just in case, and close your book with a loud noise. He doesn’t even flinch, too absorbed in his reading as you make your way towards him.

“Hello Mike” he looks up from his book and takes in your appearance. He audibly gasps at the sight of you in your black skirt and black knee high socks, lips curved into a smile. He leans back in his chair when you hop on the desk in front of him, looking up at you like a deer in headlights. “How did the study session go?” You ask as you rest the palm of your hands on the surface of the table, supporting your weight as you lean back and tilt your head.

Michael presses his lips and blinks. “It went well. I’m more than ready for the quiz.”

“I knew it. I told you before, Michael, you’re really smart. I like smart guys” you lean forward again, speaking in a low and feathery voice.

You hear him gulp. “Oh, uhm, I actually have to go, so” he tries to stand up but you press your foot against his chest, forcing him to sit down. He looks at you with a dumbfounded expression.

You frown. “What are you constantly running away from me, Mike? You don’t want my company?” you stretch your leg, pushing him as he shakes his head.

“N-no, it’s just…” he licks his lips, trying to find the correct words. “You’re dangerous to me. You tempt me so much” he admits with a sigh. You smile.

“Well, baby, sometimes we just have to surrender to our desires… as I’m doing with you. I told you, Michael. You have no idea how much I want you…” your eyes never leave his face, watching as his pupils darken with lust. His eyes follow the movement of your hands, caressing your thighs as you open your legs.

“Yesterday, after you tutored me, I returned to my dorm and I touched myself, Mikey…” his eyes widen and he yelps. “I told you I would finger myself until I came, and that’s what I did, baby… I pleasured myself thinking about you… I was so wet and tight” you bite your lip as your hand creeps up your inner thigh, Michael’s breath catching in his lungs. “I’m wet right now, Michael. Would you like to see how wet you make me? Would you like to feel how tight I am?”

Michael can only nod eagerly, mouth watering at the thought of touching your pussy, his already hard cock straining against his cargo pants. When you get his confirmation, you open your legs even more, but he stops you. “Wait. We cannot… I mean, we’re in the library” he whispers, looking at you like you were a mad woman.

You giggle. “Relax, baby. We are the only ones here. No one ever comes here at this hour, right? And we’re at the very end of the library… if someone enters, we’ll hear footsteps and we’ll know.” You reassure him with a warm smile, and he can’t reject you.

“O- okay… but I… I don’t know how to…”

“Shh, I told you I would teach you, remember? And I’m sure you’ll learn really fast. Now come closer, get on your knees.” Michael quickly obeys your orders, and gets on his knees before you, face right in front of your clothed pussy. “Good boy.” You hike up your skirt, giving him a sight of your cotton pink thong.

“Shit…” he mutters when he sees the wet spot, your arousal evident.

“I know… and it’s because of you.” He lets out a soft whine, afraid that your words alone could make him cum in his pants. “Now, take off my underwear.” His hands shake when he does so, clearly nervous and excited to touch you properly. He examines your dripping pussy with his jaw dropped. You move your legs up, feet pressed against the surface of the desk, completely exposed to him.

“Fuck, you’re dripping… what should I do?” he asks with genuine intrigue, eager to learn.

"Give me your hand" you lean in to grab his hand and guide it towards your cunt, his fingers tracing your clit. “Touch me there. It’s my clit”

He marvels at how you gasp when he touches you, his fingers drawing gentle circles over your bud. “Is this okay?” When you nod he continues touching you with his index finger, paying attention to your reaction.

“You start slowly, then you can add a bit more pressure and go faster… fuck, right there…” you breath, small whimpers leaving your lips. He continues touching you adding more pressure when your whimpers turn into moans. “Oh, shit, yes Michael” you throw your head back, his touches setting your whole body on fire. “Please, put your fingers in me” you plead and he nods again, following your instructions.

“Holy fuck you’re so wet and tight” he moans when he pushes two of them inside your slickness, watching how they disappear in your cunt, coated in your arousal.

“Hmm, your fingers are so good Michael. Move them please, curl them a little b- fffuck, just like that” you gasp when you feel his long, slender fingers find your sensitive spot with ease. “Touch my clit with your thumb… yes, yes, like that” Michael’s a quick study, you realised. He’s driving you closer and closer to your orgasm. “Fuck, you’re so good at this, you’re gonna make me cum.”

Michael smirks proudly, looking at your face contorted in pleasure. He can feel how you get tighter around his fingers, his cock twitching at the feeling.

“I wanna taste you… please, let me taste you” he begs. “Want you to cum in my mouth.”

If that isn't the hottest thing you’ve heard him say. You bite your lip and nod. “How can I say no to that?” You let your legs hang off the desk and proceed to instruct him on what to do next. “You can kiss me there, then you can lick all the way up to my clit, and then- oh!” you throw your head back as Michael’s tongue flattens against your entrance, licking you gently as his hands hold your thighs apart. You watch with mouth open as he devours your cunt, his nose rubbing at your bud repeatedly as he tongue-fucks you. His gaze is focused on you, you bring a hand to his head, pulling him closer as you chase your orgasm. “Yes, yes, Michael don’t stop!”

A moan from his lips sends vibrations to your cunt and you come with a loud cry of his name, the obscene slurping sounds he makes adding to the sensation.

Michael doesn’t let a drop go to waste, licking all your juices eagerly. He moans at your taste. “Fuck, that was so fucking hot, you taste so good.”

You look at him though hooded eyes, his chin shining with your arousal and his glasses all fogged up. He stands up from the floor, and wipes his mouth and chin with his hand. “Gods, Michael… that was amazing…”

“Really?”

“Yes, you learned very quickly” you chuckle and jump off the table, leaning in to kiss him. You can taste yourself in his mouth. You pull back to caress his cheek and he leans into your touch, your heart melting. What’s happening to you?

He hands you your underwear, which you put on quickly. He stays there, rubbing his hands together.

“Uhm… can we do this again? I-I really liked this…”

You grin. “We can definitely do this again… but not here. You can come to my place” you ask as you fix your skirt and stockings.

Again, his eyes widen. “Now?”

“Not necessarily, baby. Let’s take it slow, yeah? But if you want, I can help you with this…” you point at the evident bulge in his pants. He immediately blushes and chuckles, shaking his head.

“Oh, uhm… sorry about that.” He apologises as he tries to cover it, but you stop him by grabbing his wrist.

“Don’t feel ashamed, Mikey. It’s flattering, knowing that I get you this hard.” You look at him into his eyes, you can hear his heavy breathing and notice his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Do I make you this nervous?”

“I told you… you’re dangerous to me.” he breathes and raises an eyebrow. “And you’re also a fucking tease, did you know that?”

You gasp and point at yourself with your finger, feigning innocence. “Me? How am I a tease?” you ask, reaching for his belt with your hands, your eyes fixed on his.

“You know exactly what you’re doing… today during lunch, for example.” He explains, his eyelids heavy as your hands neatly undo his pants, letting them fall with a clicky sound, the metal of the belt hitting the wooden floor.

“What did I do during lunch? I can’t recall” you tease him as your fingertips trace the line of his hard cock through his boxers, biting your lip when you feel a wet spot there.

“You were teasing me, touching my leg and all under the table” Michael’s voice is low and raspy, stirring something inside you.

“Did I? I truly don’t remember doing that” he curses when your hand slides under his boxers, wrapping around his shaft.

“I- I was so hard I had to run and…”

“And?” You know exactly what he’s trying to say, but you want to hear it from his lips. When you don’t get an answer, you stop your movements.

“Fuck, I ran to my dorm and had a wank” He hisses with eyes closed and you continue your ministrations, your thumb stimulating his weeping tip.

“Oh, really? You jerked off thinking about me?” You lean in and start kissing his neck, leaving kisses along his clenched jaw.

“Y-yes. Not the first time” he throws his head back, leaving you more space to kiss and lick.

“No? How many times did you do it?”

“M-many times… since the very first d-day I saw you… shit” he bucks his hips trying to get more friction, but you keep going at your own speed, enjoying how putty he was in your hands.

“Hmm, so you fuck your hand thinking about me, and what do you picture? Tell me” you whisper in his ear, feeling his chest pressing against your tits.

“Oh, fuck… I think about you… your mouth around my cock… your hands all over me” you can already feel him twitching in your hand, a small drop of sweat trickling down the side of his forehead. “I’m not gonna last long, please.” Michael sobs, eyes shut as you continue moving your hand up and down, slowly, torturing him. “Please, I need you to go faster”.

“I won’t go faster until you tell me exactly what you think about when you pleasure yourself, Michael” you demand, making him shiver.

He clenches his jaw, his chest heaving as he tries to speak. “I imagine how your cunt would feel around my cock… I imagine myself fucking you, your moans and whimpers… fuck, fuck, don’t stop I’m s-so close” he begs, unable to hold it any longer. Happy with his answer, you start moving your hand faster.

“Come on, Michael. Cum for me, baby, let go” you watch as he comes with a soft whine followed by a moan of your name, his brows furrowed and cheeks flushed as his orgasm washes over him. Seeing him like that is so hot.

When he finally comes down from his high he opens his eyes, finding your hungry gaze. He looks down and sees his now cum stained boxers. “Fuck” he whispers at the sight of the mess he made in your hand as well, and curses again when you lick your hand.

Then, you lean in and kiss his cheek. “Good job, baby. You did so well for me” you purr, his heart pounding when you praise him. “I should get going. Remember, you’re more than welcome to enter my dorm. I’ll be waiting” you wink at him and gather your stuff, holding your books under your arm, heading off to your dorm.

Michael watches you leave, still not believing what just happened. He puts his cargo pants back and takes his books, putting them inside his bag. He thinks about the cold shower he would have to take as soon as he steps foot into his room.

taglist: @chaotic-fangirl-blog @uh-shyva @coriolanussnowswife @imawhorecrux @yazmunson @ginger-haired-queen @pebblesghost @echos-muses @bellaisasleep

@babysouloperatorsludge

(italics means i couldn't tag)

#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey smut #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey saltburn #saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #ewan mitchell #ewanverse #ewan mitchell fic #mydemimondewrites

[headkiss]

Hi!! could I request a story with Eddie where he goes to the drama room at school to set up for a Hellfire campaign, but finds a girl!reader in the drama room crying? And he gets all protective cause he recognizes her (the shy girl in his classes!), major fluff lol❤️

hi lovely!!! i hope u like it tysm for requesting :D | 0.6k fluff and a pinch of hurt/comfort

Eddie’s always buzzing to set up for Hellfire.

It’s funny, the only part of school he enjoys is the room that allows him to hold his campaigns, to be around the only people he feels somewhat normal around. His hands are full with his notebooks and supplies as he makes his way down the halls.

You were hiding in the first room you passed, your watery eyes blurring your vision. The last thing you wanted was for people to see you cry, to let them win. It was a stupid little comment after all, but it hit you the way they wanted; where it hurt.

The twist of the doorknob has you hastily wiping at your cheeks and eyes to try and lessen the traces of your tears. You shake your hands, breathe deep, and try to make it seem like you were okay.

Eddie’s shocked to see you when he walks in. He’s even more shocked to notice that you’ve been crying.

He doesn’t know you well, but he knows that you’re one of the only people outside of his friends who’s been kind to him, and that you’re quiet with most people. He sets his stuff down quickly.

“What’s wrong?” Is the first thing he says.

“Nothing,” you stand, ready to make your escape. “I’m fine, really.”

He catches you on your way out, blocking your path. Eddie has never really been one to get in people’s business, let alone care about it, but for some reason, he cares about this. He cares about whatever’s making someone as sweet as you cry.

“Woah, stop. I can tell you’re not,” he softens his voice for the next bit, “you’ve been crying.”

“It’s dumb.”

“It’s not if it’s making you upset. Come on, I’ve got time before Hellfire starts.”

“I really don’t want to bother you with it, Eddie.”

He leans on the table, making himself comfortable.

“You’re no bother, babe.”

You’ve never been inclined to talk to people, never wanted to share too much or speak for long, but Eddie makes you feel comfortable somehow. This boy, who you only know from a few classes, is easier to talk to than most people you know.

What’s up with that?

“Just some girls like to say stuff to me,” you shrug it off.

“That’s not dumb at all. You don’t deserve that, nobody does,” especially not you, he thinks. “Want me to go tell ‘em off?”

“Don’t do that.”

“I will, seriously,” he moves towards the door, but you stop him with two hands on his chest.

“I appreciate the thought, Eddie, but it’s fine, really. I’m used to it.”

“Nobody should be used to this stuff.”

“You are, too. I know how people treat you.”

“This isn’t about me, okay? Listen, you’re nice, and pretty, and the people that bug you are idiots. Complete idiots, because who picks on the shy people, huh? Only idiots, I think.”

You don’t know why his reassurance and comfort brings tears to your eyes all over again, but it does. He’s not at all what everyone says he is and it’s never been clearer.

He notices the shine of tears in your waterline, “aw, hey, I didn’t say all that to make you cry again. C’mere.”

He wraps you in a hug before you can even process it. His arms wrap around your shoulders, yours eventually go around his middle. He hugs you until you calm down again, and even then, you don’t feel ready to let go.

“Ever played D&D?” He asks.

You shake your head.

“Wanna stick around and learn?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson story #eddie x reader #stranger things eddie #stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie blurbs

[straykeedz]

𝔅𝔞𝔫𝔤 ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔰 ; #1

𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔬𝔯𝔰 𝔡𝔫𝔦, 𝔰𝔪𝔲𝔱 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔲𝔱

okay hear me out.

just imagine having a bad day - like, the worst day you could’ve possibly imagined. the coffee machine broke that morning while you were making yourself breakfast, work was shit and of course it’d start raining out of the blue when you don’t have your umbrella with you… the fucking cherry on top.

and you’d come home and of course chris is not there yet. but he is when you get out of the bathroom after taking a long, hot shower. and he instantly knows something’s wrong because, come on, he knows you like the back of his hand.

so his arms would instantly find their way around your body as he pulls you closer for a warm hug. “missed you bub, how was your day?”

frowns when you sigh and just tell him - “shit, but i don’t wanna talk about it.”

his heart aches a little, because he doesn’t like to see you so stressed and sad. and just like you’ve been there for him many times whenever he was at his lowest, he wants to be there for you.

“bub, why don’t you let me help you relax, hm?”

“how?”

he just chuckles - “just trust me,” he says.

you find yourself lying flat on the mattress, with chris’ hands tugging at your pajama bottoms. he licks his lips as he drags them down your thighs, and he lets out a deep, hoarse grunt once he realizes you’re not wearing panties.

“you’re killing me,” he bites his lip, heart shaped eyes looking at your most private parts, “‘m gonna treat you so good, princess. ‘m gonna make you feel good, worship your pretty pussy. that’s what you deserve for being always so nice to me, yeah?”

he lies down between your legs, but doesn’t go straight for your pussy. no, he’s a patient man, he likes to take his time with you. so he’d start by kissing your inner thigh. just peppering your skin with soft, open mouthed kisses that get needier and needier the closer he gets to your groin. there is where he’d leave a hickey, maybe even a couple.

“tell me about your day,” he’d say, his voice muffled by your skin.

“what?”

“tell me,” chris repeats “i wanna hear about what made my bub sad. tell me or i’ll stop touching you before i even make it to your pretty pussy.”

“are you blackmailing your own girlfriend, chris bang?” you raise an eyebrow at him.

“wouldn’t call it blackmailing,” he mumbles, his kisses getting closer to your labia, his curly bangs tickling your clit, “more like a fair exchange: you tell me what’s bothering you and i’ll help you forget about it.”

you’re about to open your mouth and make a sassy comment that starts with well, technically… - he just knows you like the back of his hand, i told you, when you suddenly feel his hot tongue on your pussy. you let out a choked moan. he smirks.

“so? should i stop?” he says cockily, pulling away from your pussy - you already miss him there, “or will you talk to me?”

“fine,” you scoff, “for starters, i overslept this morning.”

chris hums, placing a kiss on your clit. your body jolts.

“and our coffee machine broke this morning - we absolutely need to buy a new one by the way,” another kiss there, this time accompanied with a suck on your bundle of nerves. you sigh and kick your head back in your pillow.

“mh-hm, go on, i’m listening,” chris hums as he swirls his hot tongue around your clit.

“a-and then- then my boss scolded me because i-”, you’re cut off by chris’ lips closing around your clit, “right there, please,” you moan, entangling your fingers in his dark, curly hair.

but he pulls away - “because you what? remember, bub, we made a pact. i’ll touch you if you tell me everything.”

you wouldn’t act so cocky if you knew how good your tongue feels, chris bang, you think to yourself.

“because i was late to work,” you huff. he rewards you by licking your wetness off your folds, then his mouth is back on your clit. “but it wasn’t my- oh god, it wasn’t my fault.”

“it wasn’t?” chris asks, and you feel the tips of his middle and ring finger tap your entrance a couple of times, just to tease you.

you shake your head, “no. the bus broke down, i had to call a taxi to get there.”

he pushes his digits inside of you slowly while he teases your clit with the tip of his tongue. he hums as he feels his fingers enter you easily - you’re dripping onto the sheets already. you’re always so wet for him, just like he always gets so hard for you.

“and- and then it started raining. not even raining, chris, it started pouring,” you whimper when he curls his fingers inside of your pussy, looking for that spot he always finds easily and fast. “i didn’t have an umbrella with me so i- there, right there,” you moan when he finds it. “i was completely drenched when i got home.”

“seems to me you’re drenched now, too,” he chuckles. then, his lips close around your clit once more.

on normal circumstances, you’d roll your eyes at him, but right now there isn’t much you can do except for tugging at his hair and moan when he sucks on your bud.

“and you weren’t there when i came home and… and i really wanted to be with you,” you finish.

“i’m here now, bub,” chris mumbles, looking at you from between your legs as he squeezes your thigh with his other hand. “thank you for opening up to me and for trusting me. now just relax - let me eat this sweet pussy.”

chris eats pussy for his own pleasure.

by the time he’s finished with you, you’re always left panting, with your chest rising and falling quickly and your heart hammering in your chest. and ever time, there’s a large, wet patch under your ass - it’s both your cum and his own spit.

tonight is no exception.

he starts moving his fingers inside of you, while simultaneously sucking on your clit. occasionally, he’d pull away just to spit on it or to lick your folds. he likes it filthy, wet and messy. he hums against your pussy when he feels your arousal dripping from his chin, tickling his skin.

he makes out with your clit and lips the exact same way he’d make out with your other lips, the ones on your face.

his tongue is all over you, licking every inch of your skin, paying particular attention to the sweet spot sitting right there in the middle of your pussy.

“chris, ‘m close,” you’d whine, pulling his hair a bit harder.

at his point he just buries his face in your pussy, he doesn’t even care if he’s not being able to breathe. if he dies with his face pressed against your sweet cunt, he dies a happy man. he continues to fuck you with his fingers and doesn’t stop moving them, not even when he feels your walls clenching tighter around him. you arch your back and whine as you come undone under his touch. he hums and grunts as he feels your release drip all over his knuckles and the back of his hand until it reaches his wrist.

he only pulls away from your pussy when you pull his hair and your legs start to shake a little too much. he gives your folds one last lick to savor your taste on his tongue, and you don’t miss the way his eyes roll in the back of his head.

and once he’s done, he’d pull your pajama pants back on.

“feelin’ better now, bub?”

#bangchan smut #bang chan smut #chris bang smut #bang chan hard thoughts #bang chan hard hours #bangchan hard thoughts #bangchan hard hours #stray kids smut #stray kids #skz #skz smut #skz masterlist #stray kids masterlist #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fic #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #bang chan x you smut #bang chan x reader smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan fic #bang chan drabble #bang chan fanfic #bang chan #bang chan skz #stray kids drabbles

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 12 part 1 | part 11 | ao3

ha haaaa, i lied about waiting until monday. cw: angst, gory imagery, implied prescription drug abuse

In his dream it’s raining pills.

Steve is crying in his car as rainbow pellets rain from the sky, and then he’s pounding on the Munson’s door while the pills burst into fine powder against his hair, his skin, his clothes. Eddie doesn’t come to the door but suddenly he’s there, teleported outside of it, apologizing right away when Steve demands to know what’s wrong.

“I don’t understand what happened.”

A flash of eyes, of lips; his face doesn’t fully form, but he sweeps one of those perusing looks all over Steve, sees his frayed edges and invites him in to stitch them up.

They talk and laugh for hours — dream logic where the seconds are minutes are years — letting their knees knock together, letting their pinky fingers brush. All the while little pills plink plink against the siding, pharmaceutical hail storm, and suddenly it's morning; Steve has drifted off; Steve has never slept so well. There’s a throw blanket made of cat fur and the smell of coffee and scrambled eggs, Wayne humming sleepily to himself at the stove, waving a spatula in greeting when he spots Steve getting up.

“Mornin'!” he grins. “Ed’s still sleepin’, but feel free to stick around.”

Outside the rain comes harder, heavy knocks against the roof, and when Steve peers into the pan he sees that Wayne’s frying up dead birds. "Just about ready."

He spears a fork into a wing. The feathers start to smoke. “You take your coffee black?”

—

“Ma, you gotta get a job.”

“Hmm?”

She’s watching I Love Lucy.

Steve's head is in his hands.

His elbows are going numb where they’re propped on the breakfast table, and his temples throb, a steady band of pressure like a giant's palm around the sides and back of his skull, pulsing down his aching neck. He’s been staring at next month’s budget for so long it looks like hyro…hiero—?

Whatever. Egyptian shit.

He can’t tell if he’s shit at math or if the math just doesn’t work, but either way it’s not working, and neither is his fucking mom, and he finds himself thinking about this one time in middle school when they took a field trip to a factory with a big hydraulic press. Got to tour the control room; got to pick which fruits to crush.

He remembers the watermelon most vividly of all: the way the rind groaned under the machine’s steady weight, splintering slivers snaked over striped flesh; slowly, slowly, then suddenly, boom!!

Watermelon guts on the concrete floor.

(That was also the first time he got to touch a girl's butt; all the girl's squealed and jumped back from the explosion, and one of them backed herself right into his hand. It was Liz Collins, and it was one hundred percent an accident, because, like, gross, Liz Collins, but still.

Memorable day for two reasons.

God, he needs a nap.)

“A job, ma,” he sighs, a little louder this time. “I can... I don’t know, I can maybe ask around, see if anybody’s hiring? Or- talk to Claudia. Or Karen,” he snaps his fingers by his ear, “or Joyce! She might— yeah. Yeah, she might be able to call and put in a good word at Melvalds...”

She might also be busy being far the fuck away from here. He taps his pencil against his cheek as envy crashes over him. He should be in California. Should spend his time hitting on beach babes and surfing sunny waves instead of drowning in debt and wondering why he’s on a first-name basis with so many random moms.

His mom still hasn’t acknowledged a single word he's said. "Hello? Ma? What d'you think?"

She turns to look at him finally. Gives him a dreamy, lovely smile.

She always was so pretty. “…I’m sorry; what were you saying?”

—

Steve flushes his mom’s pills.

—

part 13

tagging whoever commented recently if your settings will let me @acedorerryn @ahsokatanoss @annabanannabeth @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awolfstudio @bananahoneycomb @bronwenmarie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @cuips-not-cute @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @evillittleguy @fandomfix8 @grtwdsmwhr @hellion-child @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @lololol-1234 @messrs-weasley @nburkhardt @noodle-shenaniganery @ppunkpuppyy @rani-mayida @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @space-invading-pigeon @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection @teatimeeverybody @th30ra3k3n @thealwithnoname @thestarslittleking @thesuninyaface @trensu @vacantwatchers @violetsteve @wormdebut @yourmom-isgay @zoeweee @zombiecreatures

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