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satorisoup · 3 months

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ᰔ CANDY GRAMS ft. rintaro suna

ʚ CW : secret admirer. manager! reader.

ʚ hq valentine’s series mlist ಇ

every year on valentine’s day, your schools student body sets up a booth for candy grams. $2 to send a cute little message to your loved one with little lollipops and candied hearts. the line would stretch all the way down the hall with students eager to buy one, the end of the line grumbling at their time wasted when they heard the shout of “sold out!”. it was a huge tradition that the students never failed to miss, as it would always cause an uproar of excitement along with the funds being donated to whatever cause.

it’s your second year at inarizaki highschool, and you were luckily privileged enough to become the manager of the volleyball club during the second half of your first year, being a new student, despite the insane amount of girls who had applied for the spot. you had made it extremely clear that no, you were not interested in the twins, no, this wasn’t a plan to get one them to fall in love with you, and no, you weren’t a secret spy for a fangirl instagram account trying to gather information. all things accounted for, you were accepted into the position.

now as a second year, you had kept your word on not falling for the infamous volleyball twins who in reality were just dumb teenage boys that talked your ear off with their constant nagging and immature jokes. however, the one who had caught your eye was the middle blocker with the #10 jersey, rintaro suna. they never said you couldn’t have a little crush on him, right? and even despite having quite the interest in him, you would never act on it, as you seemed to be good friends with him along with the twins, not daring to ruin the friendship or break the trust with the club.

suna was a nice person to be around, his sense of humor was infectious and he was a good, more tame break from the rambunctious person known as atsumu miya, even though they did tend to occasionally get into mischief when together. he was blunt in the ways he showed that he cared, and you recall the moment you realized you had feelings for him when you had accompanied him at the store to get a snack before practice. he had asked you if you wanted anything, and you had told him you didn’t have any money with you.

“i didn’t ask if you had money. i asked what you wanted.”

it left you blushing for the rest of the day, walking out of the shop with a cookie in hand and hearing “why didn’t ya pay fer me?!” fall out of atsumu’s mouth in complaint. you knew in your heart you definitely couldn’t deny it now, you had fallen.

the date marked february 14th, valentine’s day, and just like last year, the halls were bustling in delirium as the line stretched from one end of the courtyard to the other. you slung your bag over your shoulder and continued to walk to your designated class, overhearing the cheers of the people who finally made it to the front of the string of students. making your way to class and taking your seat, you prepare to take on the day as if it were any other.

eventually, the period before lunch had rolled around, and the person passing candy grams from each class had reached your door. you could feel the anticipation of your peers as the student began dropping each one off to certain desks. 1 here, 3 there, 5, wow that’s quite a few.

after most of the class had received their special gifts, whispering the notes their partners had left for them to one another, you had expected the deliverer to make their leave and be on with it.

your assumptions hadn’t been correct, when you see that they had made their way to your desk.

“10 candy grams for miss l/n, here you go!”

wait what?

you caught a few quiet gasps and small whispers from some of your classmates as your desk had been filled with a whopping number of 10 candy grams. even you had wanted to gasp yourself, but you really did not want this attention on you.

after everyone had quieted down a little more, you took the gracious opportunity to check the pink slips of paper on each packet of treats.

“to: y/n.”

again, you checked another slip. then another, and another for good measure. to your upmost confusion, every single slip you had was completely nameless. before you could comprehend exactly what was going on with these mysterious sweets, class was being dismissed for lunch.

“buying candy grams for yerself? that’s pretty depressin’.” atsumu bellowed at you when you had walked up to your friends, arms almost overflowing with your gifts.

“im not that cheap, you idiot…there’s 10 here, and ALL with no name.” you scoffed back at him.

“maybe it’s yer stalker.” osamu had countered, eyeing the bags.

“oh yeah, how lovely that would be. quit trying to scare me, osamu.” you deadpanned. “where’s suna?”

“dunno. so, ya gonna share that candy or what?”

“really miya? you’re both holding an entire grocery bag of them. i’ll see you guys at practice.” you walked off, still pondering on the thought of who it could be.

you still hadn’t managed to find suna within the midst of this entire situation, wanting to get his input. despite the so called “thrill” of having a secret admirer, you didn’t really seem to care. you wanted suna, and you wanted it to be him who was sending you stupid pieces of candy and dumb notes. that however, is a wish that could never be granted no matter how bad you yearned for it.

it’s the last half of the day by now, most classes having been visited by the deliverer, disregarding a few. mostly extra candy grams were being passed to the people who didn’t receive them before lunchtime. you practically ignored the lesson your teacher was explaining, too caught up in your thoughts to listen. 10 candy grams, no name, suna has practically disappeared. when class had been dismissed, you passed by your locker in hopes of putting the treats in there for later, but when you opened the latch, you had yet another surprise waiting for you.

10 more packets of candy dribbled out of your locker, a couple landing by your feet as if to mock you. you scamper to pick them up with a huff, and when you start to shove them in with the rest in your locker, miserably failing to fit them all inside, you come to an immediate realization.

atsumu is the only person who unfortunately knows your locker combination, back when you had held his lost textbook for him until he could get it back.

it dawned on you in an instant, of course, this was atsumu’s idea of humour, a perfect valentine’s day prank.

you roll your eyes at the idea of the twins antics, but also began to feel a tinge of sadness when you came to your conclusion, a hint of hope in the back of your mind that maybe, it was the one your heart had longed for who was up to this, but you’re quick to shut it down. with an upset slam of your locker, you head to the gym.

feet that slowly skid onto the concrete stairs was all that could be heard, and your shoes squeek against the vinyl flooring of the inarizaki gym when you enter. as you prepare to tell off atsumu, a voice interrupts you.

“what’s up with you?”

it was suna, his head cocked to the side with a slight furrow in his brow.

“im trying to find atsumu, he’s really done it this time…”

“and what did he do?”

“he thought it would be a funny idea to prank me! on valentine’s day of all days! sending a mountain of candy grams that won’t even fit in my locker…there wasn’t even a name on them. and it made me think…” you interrupt yourself before you accidentally say too much, “it’s just dumb yknow?” you huff.

“i figured you would think something dumb like that.”

“… huh?”

suna starts to dig into his bag, hand reaching in and then back out. one of his arms extended out to you, holding one of the same cellophane bags that had been taunting you all day.

this one held a cookie, the same kind as that day back at the store, and when you open the note, you can feel yourself grow lighter.

“to: y/n.

you’re kind of a dunse.”

and this time, there’s an indicator of the sender on the slip of paper, in the same handwriting as all of the others.

“R. S.”

you look to suna with widened eyes and a growing blush to your cheeks, your mouth slightly ajar when you ask him,

“…it was you?”

suna softly smirks at you, his hidden facade of mischievousness breaking as he replies,

“yeah, you should really think before you trust a miya with your locker combo.”

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art · 7 months

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Creator Spotlight: @jdebbiel

Deb JJ Lee is a non-binary Korean artist based in Brooklyn, NY. They have appeared in the New Yorker, New York Times, NPR, Google, Radiolab, and more. Their award-winning graphic memoir, IN LIMBO, about mental illness and difficult relationships with trauma, released in March 2023 from First Second.

Below is our interview with Deb!

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

That implies I am over my art block, but I’m still in it! I think about Kiki’s Delivery Service a lot and how she had to stop doing a thing, and that you can’t really force it, and you have to let it come back to you. It’s a pretty humbling moment, realizing there is more to life than just drawing. I’ve been trying to consume other content like reading or watching movies—anything that is not drawing-related—and to trust that it will come back to me. I think not being afraid to do the small pieces before committing to the big pieces is helpful. Because big pieces are what I am known for, I dig myself into a deeper hole, thinking that each piece has to be bigger than the last one. So yeah! Relaxing and doing the small things before overcommitting to a big piece is the best way to go about it for me.

Which 3 famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

I feel like these are all artists that I have second-degree connections with! Jillian Tamaki, Victo Ngai, and Tillie Walden would be my picks!

What are your file name conventions?

…What file name conventions? I mean, I don’t have specific file name conventions, but I actually have a public Google Drive archive! But I usually put “djjl_whatever-the-title-is_final,” and I would always know it’s the final and legit version.

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

I did an illustration for the whiskey brand Johnnie Walker. It’s so wild because I only had four days to finish it, and it usually takes me a week and a half if I rush. And honestly, it’s probably one of my best pieces from this year, which is funny. It was for the Mid-Autumn festival, so I made it as Korean as possible.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

I only use my iPad to draw everything now, and if I want to pretend that I have a steady workstation, I’ll use my Cintiq. I still am not as comfortable on the Cintiq as I am on Procreate, but it’s still pretty solid and nice. That’s the good part about technology. The bad part about technology is how AI art has been messing things up for me. I’m currently in a lawsuit about AI art as a class rep. Some of my stuff got turned into AI art late last year, so I have to give a deposition at some point.

What is a convention experience that has stuck with you?

Honestly, they’re all good! I feel like Lightbox Expo has been really nice because it’s truly been a convention for artists. I feel like that’s where most of my audience is, and they’re all around because their purpose is to be better at art. That’s where a lot of original artists do well because they’re getting art they’re inspired by, not so much fanart. I like the Lightbox Expo because it encompasses the pure love of art very well.

Top tips on setting up an Artist Alley booth?

Use a Y axis, not just your X axis! Take advantage of it! Branding is also something to think about. It is definitely something I’m getting better at. Having an assistant is also very important. I’ve also heard that 8.5x11 to 12x18 inches is usually a good size for prints, but I also provide postcard-sized prints because sometimes people don’t want to commit to a larger size.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

You know this is so funny. I’ve been following @alicexz for over a decade on Tumblr and other platforms. I’ve followed her work since high school, and we’ve only recently become peers. I found her, and we met for the first time in real life, and she recognized me. And then I found all my drawings from when I was in my Alice phase, back in high school, and I was like, “Yo, this is when I was trying to be you so badly!” and she was cracking up and was like “Wow, this is so good!” It was such a sweet moment. I wanted to take a picture of her holding my drawing up. It’s really nice because now we’re peers.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Deb! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @jdebbiel.

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #deb jj lee #jdebbiel

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enwoso · 11 days

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Hi can you write a Lucy bronze x reader. Reader is the shy one of the team and during teamnights and interviews reader is very reserved. With Lucy she isn’t as shy. Lucy helps reader slowly get out her shell (some fluff :))

JUST NOT ME — lucy bronze

*i truly apologise for the lack of posts in the past few days, i’ve had a hectic few days and i’ve been focused on studying so sorry if this sucks — posts will probably be a bit inconsistent over the next few weeks but i’ll be as active as i can<3*

"you excited?" beth asked as the car pulled into the entrance of st george's park, the familiar surroundings bringing a small smile to your face. this was your first call up to the england squad in almost a year, having been out with the dreaded ACL injury.

"i guess" you shrugged, beth shaking her head in amusement. you didn't really know how to explain it, of course you were excited, who wouldn't be happy playing for their country but you were almost nervous, what if you weren't up the standard of others in the group.

"always the women of few words!" beth joked, one you had heard many times as the arsenal girls loved to tease you about how quiet you were but that's just how you were cause not everyone was her.

they didn’t know that you needed a chance to warm up to people before you let them into your bubble, they didn’t know that even though because you don’t say a lot that you aren’t paying attention as you notice every persons small habits they have. cause not everyone was her.

you were a listener and not someone who could sit and chat someone's ears off for ever more than a day like the likes of beth mead and ella toone could do so effortlessly without even realising.

but maybe that's what lucy liked so much about you.

you and lucy had been together just nearing two years now, the two of you had known of each other for a while it wasn't until a night out in london with the lionesses that leah had dragged you to after you had said for days on end that you weren’t going, that you and lucy spoke to each other.

you sitting in the corner of the club, drink in hand as you watched millie and rachel on the karaoke a small smile on your face at their singing which was not the slightest in tune at all.

lucy spotting you sat alone slipping in the booth with you before asking you why you weren't doing karaoke like everyone else, you shrugging at the girls question before she asked you if you wanted to do it with her.

you face going red as you almost immediately shook your head, but lucy being lucy had her mission for the night and that was to get you to do karaoke, and to which she succeeded after sitting and having a few more drinks with you.

and from that night, the rest was history.

you rolled your eyes at beth's comment as she chuckled to herself getting out the cab first, getting her luggage as you followed close behind her, thanking the driver as you headed into the entrance of st george's park.

taking in the familiar surroundings, as you looked around noticing the few changes since the last time you were here.

"i'm not holding these doors open for the good of my own health, hurry up!" beth pointed out, her thick northern accent bouncing off the walls as she was stood in the doorway of the lift, pulling you out of your trace as you hurried to get into the lift. pressing the buttons on the side of the wall for the floor you needed.

you and beth getting out of the lift on the same floor, you noticing your girlfriend as she had her back turned the opposite way, a smile appearing on your face.

beth nudging you, "go on!" she whispered as you said a small bye to the blonde as she walked the opposite way.

"your here!" a voice cheered which you knew all too well, lucy stood at the end of the hallway in front of her room door as you stopped your suitcase at your own door.

you smiled seeing the girl, your smile getting bigger with every step she took closer to before engulfing you in a tight hug. your whole body relaxing in hers, the smell of her perfume that you had missed.

“of course i’m here?” you smiled confused at her reaction to seeing you stood in the hallway. “well the media was saying you were gonna withdraw because of an irritation in your knee” she admitted a small frown on her face at the mention of your knee, knowing how hard and the amount of hours you had put in just to get back to the level you were at just last year.

“baby, you do know i would tell you before i even told sarina if i was going to withdraw don’t you?” you asked her, your hands finding their way up the back of her training top, your girlfriend having been here since early as she’d had an early flight to catch this morning.

“yeah”

"anyways, i've missed you" you mumbled into her neck, nestling your head as her hands fell to your lower back you feeling her smile against your forehead as she kissed it.

"i've missed you too love" she smiled as you looked up with a lovesick smile on your face. lucy pressing small kisses to your cheeks, nose and chin before finally pressing a soft kiss to your lips — which you would be dammed to say that you hadn't missed.

it was hard at times being away from your girlfriend for weeks on end as she played in barcelona and you were playing in north london at arsenal. having to schedule weeks in advance of when you would next be able to see each other.

but it made moments like these all the more worth it.

when you would finally be reunited and be in her arms again. sometime you think the distance made the two of you closer in a weird way as you felt as though you cherished you time together more.

"you coming down to lunch?" your girlfriend asked as she pressed your foreheads together, the smile never leaving either of your faces. you nodded, "yeah, let me just put my bag in and chance my shoes"

lucy hummed as she let you go from the hug, grabbing your suitcase for you as you rummaged around your pocket for your room key, the green light flashing as you pushed the handle down.

the door shutting with a click as you opened your suitcase finding your sliders to slip on, “baby, you got another pair!” lucy whisper yelled, pointing to your pink crocs that you were pulling out of your suitcase as she sat at the end of the bed watching you.

“yeah?”

“so what? that makes it seven pairs you’ve got now!” lucy said exaggerating the amount, as you huffed rolling your eyes as if she didn’t have trainers lined up on her bedroom floor.

“three actually” you sassed standing up and checking your hair in the mirror as lucy pulled a face at you, you doing one back to her.

“now quit your complaining, i want food!” you smiled sweetly at your girlfriend grabbing her hand and pulling her up from the bed as she pecked your lips quickly before you left your room not before checking that you had your phone and key card to actually get back into your room.

walking down hand in hand with lucy to where food was being served, as you filled each other in on the journey here. lucy’s sounding a lot more exciting then your two hour car journey consisting of views of trees and beth chatting your ears off about anything and every.

saying a small hello to others that you hadn’t seen since arriving before grabbing something to eat and sitting on a table just the two of you.

"on sunday, i went for breakfast with my mum and you know all she spoke about was you!" you complained as lucy had a smirk on her face as she put another forkful of food into her mouth, nodding alone to what you were saying.

"that's because i'm her favourite" lucy laughed as you rolled your eyes. “clearly, it’s so annoying-“ you began before being cut off by two blondes joining you at the table.

"how do you do that?" leah asked, directing her question more at lucy than you, as she sat down beth following behind the captain. as the two sat down at the table you and lucy were sat at.

"do what?" lucy asked, confusion taking over her face as she looked to you who shrugged putting another forkful of food in your mouth.

"get y/n to have a conversation!" leah pointed to you as you felt your cheeks go a little red as a small smile appeared on your face, as lucy looked back to the blonde and the two others still not really understanding what leah was trying to get at.

"we always have a conversation?" lucy shrugged as if it was nothing, cause to her it was. you had never really spoken to lucy until she had brought you out your shell. lucy knew you were more reserved when it came to talking to others, you would speak but it would be very few words.

but she wouldn’t change it for the word cause even if you didn’t say anything back she knew you were always listening and taking in everything she was saying.

beth and leah began to recount all the the times they had talked to you and you only ever gave them a one word answer, the two pleading with lucy to tell them her ways.

"really? y/n over here is a little chatterbox!" lucy smiled over to you as you awkwardly smiled at the two not really knowing what to say.

"she's not at shy as she likes to let everyone think she is!" she bumped your shoulder, as you rolled your eyes the sound of your fork tinkering against the plate in front as beth and leah’s mouth hang wide open in shock.

"no i refuse to believe it, how!"

"your just not me" lucy joked, the four of you beginning to laugh as you nodded your head in agreement, "i mean your not entirely wrong"

liked by lj10 and 736,250 others

lucybronze no one compares ☺️

comments -

youruser awh how cute

-> lucybronze no i meant no one compares to me?

-> youruser your ego is sickening at times.

#lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #woso community #woso #woso blurbs #woso imagine #woso x reader #arsenal women #awfc #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #barca women #visca barca #lionesses #england wnt #england women #england

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arthenaa · 6 months

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blurred lines — mizu x f!reader

synopsis: your relationship with your roommate often threads the lines between friends and of something more.

content: fluff, suggestive themes, modern! au, roommate!mizu one jumping off a cliff joke mentioned, taigen, ringo, and akemi being great friends, mizu uses she/her pronouns, she/her pronouns for reader as well, mizu and you call each other bon/bonnie as an endearment, mizu is ur bf but not rlly your bf yk, mutual pining

song will be later mentioned in the story but listen to it while you're reading <3

It isn't to anyone's surprise that more often than not, people mistake you and Mizu as a couple. It's gotten bad to the point that it's already counted as an inside joke in your little group of five.

Taigen was the main culprit of the joke (as usual). He often lets his tongue run loose in the most random of situations. Whatever piques his interest, he always has something to say about it. You're not sure if it's because of Taigen's natural person magnet trait but surely, you think this is somehow his fault.

"I just want to say how adorable of a couple you two are!" A person from your year—someone you had met in passing during your Ethics class for sure—gushed as she sat down on the empty seat in front of you. You stare at her, mouth slightly agape in shock at the sudden intrusion, Akemi chortles from her seat while Mizu's starting to look like she's about to commit homicide. It was currently your free period, hoping for a time to relax and wait for your next class, you sure weren't expecting to be bombarded by a series of questions about your love life. You're hoping that both of your unwelcomed stares would drive this person away, but the gal continues off on a tangent. "Not to be like—a real gossipy person, but like, I heard from Sanchez that you guys were dating, and I had my suspicions back then during Ethics class but I just HAD to confirm it, y'know?"

You lock eyes with Akemi seated beside the girl as she hides her grin behind her drink. You're so going to wipe that smile off her face soon.

"I'm pretty sure that's none of your business," Mizu deadpans as she stares at her under her tinted glasses. She taps her index finger on the surface of the table, a telltale sign of her impatience. The girl remains oblivious.

"Oh, come on! We were groupmates last semester! I'm pretty sure we're already close enough to know stuff like this," She sends the both of you a wink to which you wince as Mizu stiffens beside you. You're sure it was taking a real toll on her to prevent her from committing a felony and so you've decided to step up.

"I-I'm sorry," You give her a sheepish smile, hand raised to provide a calm reassurance of not being hostile. "I'm sure you mean well and everything but we're really tired. Whatever you're thinking, it's a no."

You give her your best award-winning smile with the hopes that she'll leave you both alone. You see her slightly pull back, finally reading the room but she pauses at the last second as Mizu wraps an arm around your waist. You're not sure why the girl gives you a cheeky grin as she adjusts her bag on her shoulder but your resolve is soon starting to waver if she doesn't get her ass off your table.

"Alright, whatever you say," She coos, eyes squinting playfully as she gathers herself off your booth. "I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. See you around!"

The three of you watch as she makes her way out of the shop before your shoulders release the tension you've both been holding over the past few minutes. Akemi chuckles at your expressions

"Oh my god, If you hadn't done that I would've gone off the rails," Mizu groans as she rests her head on the table.

"You should've, to be honest, might make this whole debacle a lot more interesting than whatever you have with Y/N," Akemi snickers from her seat as Mizu sends her a glare. "Funniest thing I've seen all semester. Keep it up."

"You're full of shit," Mizu grumbles from her seat. Akemi flashes her her middle finger. You roll your eyes at their banter.

"I don't get what's the big deal," You cross your arms over your chest. "I mean people do the things me and Mizu do all the time."

Akemi gives you a blank stare. "I mean this in the best possible way but if I didn't love you and you said that to me, I would actually slap your face."

"I can slap your face for free, right now."

"Not now, Mizu," You nudged her knee in retaliation as the blue-eyed girl grumbled in response. "Also, bullshit. That's unfair."

Akemi rolls her eyes before slamming her drink down on the table. "That's unfair? You two are basically me and Taigen if Taigen grew the balls to actually court me instead of parading his biceps like a damn himbo. That honestly felt like I'd lost 20 years of my life. She's at your beck and call and even fucking ditches our hangouts just because you had a little cold. That's what's unfair."

You stare at her with furrowed eyebrows as she huffs and takes an angry sip of her drink. You slowly nod, trying to get a sense of her reasoning. Well, you and Mizu had developed a natural sense of service-giving to each other. After all, your deep friendship was only a resort of living together. Wouldn't anyone be that considerate to their best friends?

"I swear to God," Akemi places a hand in front of her mouth as she looks between the two of you. Mizu had already tuned her out, opting to hug you close by the waist and leaning her head on your shoulder as she took the time to rest. "I'm so close to throwing myself off the cliff figuratively and it's both of your fault."

You roll your eyes at her, crumpling a tissue paper before throwing it towards her. The gal dodges it with ease before scrunching her nose.

"You're overreacting."

"Sure," Akemi squints her eyes. "Whatever fits your story."

You're not sure when it started but somehow Akemi's words started to get to you. You knew, for sure, (you think?) that she was just bluffing. Your relationship with Mizu was yours and yours alone, anything between the two of you must be kept between the two of you only. It wasn't as if the comments of other people had affected you—you often tend to brush them off, treating some of them as either praises of your close bond or jokes due to their easygoing nature. You're not sure if it's because of Akemi's short-tempered personality that you've started to notice things too.

"Here," Mizu's voice startles you out of your focus. You turn your head to see the raven-haired gal, hair down and cozy in a black hoodie and sweatpants. You had been studying and getting things done at your uni's library as finals were nearing. The desk at your dorm and the familiarity of your room seemed to mess up with your productivity and so you decided to change venues. Mizu, being the good-hearted angel that she is, drops a cup of coffee beside you and a bag of your favorite food. She then tucks her hands into the pockets of her hoodie.

You look up at her with a pout, eyes softened. "You didn't have to."

Mizu pats your head before gingerly pulling the seat next to you. She sits down and leans her head on her arm perched on the table. "It's the least I could do. You're working hard."

You smile at her praise, glancing at the worksheets sprawled on your table. It wouldn't hurt to take a break, no?

Mizu gives you a raise of an eyebrow as you turn your body towards her, copying her form. Your lips pull into a small smile as you reach out to brush her loose locks. "It's way past your curfew. You should've just slept."

Mizu snorts. "You say that like I'm a child."

You reach out to pinch her cheek causing her to swat your hand away. Letting out a few giggles as she scrunches her nose at you. You would've continued to act normal afterward, there was nothing to freak out over but then Mizu started staring at you with that gaze of hers. Usually, you would either jokingly stare back or playfully ignore her but somehow this time, you're suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. You let out a cough as you turn back toward your worksheets, unable to handle the intensity of her gaze.

Not sure if she noticed it or what, you make quick haste to get back on track with your studying. About 15 minutes in, you hear shifting beside you. Thinking that it's her cue to go, you turn toward her with curiosity but then your chair moves swiftly to her side. You let out a yelp as she moves your chair with one arm, closer toward her.

"Mizu—!" You squeak at the sudden movement as she lets out a few chuckles at your reaction. Soon enough, a deep flush bursts across your cheeks due to the sudden proximity. She's faced toward you, legs spread to accommodate your figure, and her other arm perched on the back of your chair.

You feel your heart speed up as she leans close and smiles. "Get back to studying, Bonnie."

You obediently follow her orders as you lower your head to get back to answering the worksheets in front of you. You hear Mizu chuckle beside you as you willed yourself to continue writing and ignore her very existence.

Heart? Speed up? What the fuck?

There's a moment of reprieve before you feel the sudden thump of Mizu's head against your shoulder.

"What's up?" You hum gingerly, your free hand moving up to gently pet her head. Mizu shifts her body close, the arm at the back of your chair pulling your shoulder and body to her.

"Do you want Italian or Chinese?" She asks out of the blue, eyes watching you write down equations and numerical formulas on your paper. Your heart softens as you feel her other hand envelope over your stomach, pulling you into a side hug.

There weren't many people around the library at this time of the night besides the occasional suffering computer science major seated at the far end of the library and the librarian herself. Mizu allows herself to be vulnerable within your care. You eye your worksheets, debating finishing them or giving your cute roommate dozing off on your shoulder attention.

Nah, fuck it.

You gently close your notes before cupping Mizu's cheek, softly pulling her up from your shoulder.

"Hm?" Mizu hums as she slowly blinks at you, face leaning towards your touch as you cup her face gingerly within your palms. You give her a soft smile, thumbs running softly across her cheeks.

"Ordering takeout might be a bit too much right now," You quietly whisper to her, eyes crinkling playfully. She lets out a few chuckles at your response. "Although, I recall having a waffle mixture back at our dorm and we still have your dad's waffle maker. What do you say?"

Her gaze darts over you face before she pulls away from your touch. You look at her curious as she scoots to the edge of her seat before pulling you into a hug. The raven-haired girl burrows her face on your neck, letting a loud sigh of relief as she encased you in her arms.

"Alright," She mumbles on the collar of your shirt, breath tickling your neck. You flush at her proximity, opting to rest your head gently against hers. Just as the two of you would continue to bask in each other's presence, a cough alerts the two of you to pull away.

Your eyes dart toward the culprit as the librarian raises her eyebrow toward the both of you.

"You can take your couple date elsewhere if you both have nothing better to do here." The old lady deadpans, fanning herself with her foldable fan. The both of you stare as she gives you one last judgmental look before walking away. Mizu wordlessly helps you pack up your stuff, leaving the library with you trailing behind with your ears flushed red.

"Listen," Taigen takes a deep breath before continuing. "We're only choosing your dorm because Akemi has their annual dorm parties, Our kitchen broke so Ringo can't cook, and we know Mizu is a loaded motherfucker, alright? It's absolutely not because we want to see your icky mundane domestic life."

Mizu leans against the doorframe, staring Taigen down as he finishes his piece. You, on the other hand, can only smile from your spot behind Mizu. It had been your scheduled movie night with friends and originally, it was Ringo and Taigen's turn to host but due to unfortunate circumstances, the duty of hosting befell on your shoulders again. Albeit, a bit rushed this time.

Akemi rolls her eyes beside Taigen before stepping up towards the doorway and pushing her way through Mizu's defense (Mizu let her in, she didn't do anything wrong). Ringo smiles gleefully from his spot beside Taigen before sliding his way inside and pulling you in a hug (again, Mizu let him in, he's the only person who can actually cook).

"Y/N!" Your tall bubbly-bear looking friend cheers as he swings you back and forth in his hug. You giggle as you return the gesture, slightly pulling away and patting his cheeks. Ringo grins. "I missed you!"

You playfully roll your eyes at him. "Oh come on Ringo, I saw you last week."

"Too long!" Ringo whines as he rests his head on top of yours. Your heart warms at Ringo's affections. Your dear friend was a walking talking incarnation of a life-sized teddy bear. The two of you continue to giggle at each other's presence, not noticing the pair of blue eyes trained on you.

"Oi, Ring," Mizu calls out from her position by the doorway, eyes pulled into a glare. Ringo stiffens beside you at her tone. You could only blink your eyes at her with a curious gaze. "Get your ass in the kitchen."

"On it!" Ringo makes no haste and eventually bolts to your dorm's kitchen. You place your hand on your hips as you stare at her with a raised eyebrow. Mizu only looks away before catching a sneaking Taigen trying to move his way inside. The raven-haired girl slams her hand on the doorframe preventing Taigen from entering.

"Where do you think you're going?" Mizu asks with a threatening glare. Her eyes squint as you watch Taigen sweatdrop.

"C'mon, man! I just want to fucking watch Ryan Gosling, can you let me in?!" Taigen whines, stomping his foot. Mizu's face stays blank, hand clutching the doorframe. Taigen resorts to plan B and looks up at you from his spot with the most disturbing try of puppy eyes. "Y/N, please I'll treat you all the fucking bobas you want just please pull your war freak of a wife away from me."

You chuckle as he clasps his hands together, ignoring Mizu's pointed glare. You knew that Mizu would let him in either way. After all Mizu says, and you quote, "It's like leaving a fucking dog outside with all that yapping."

Finally deciding to help Taigen, your eyes gaze at Mizu's back with a smile. "Bon, c'mon leave him be."

There's a pause of silence before Mizu eases up on the doorway and eventually side steps. Taigen lets out a noise of victory before making quick steps toward you and places a kiss on the side of your temple.

"This is why you're my favorite," Taigen crinkles his eyes playfully. You roll your eyes, slapping his arm.

"You said that to Akemi 3 days ago."

"The past is past, what matters is the pre—"

A loud smack on the head propels Taigen forward causing your eyes to widen. You turn to Mizu who looks at him with disgust.

"I let you in and you still yap like a dog. Do you want me to kick you out again?" Mizu stands next to you with a menacing glare. You watch in amusement as Taigen frowns, rubbing the back of his head.

"Goddamn, just fucking marry this emotionally constipated motherfucker please so that I may find peace," Taigen makes a pointed look towards you. "I hate that I'm always at the receiving end of your punches when Y/N doesn't give you a bit of her atten—AGH!"

You let out a few giggles as you watched Mizu try and kick him away from where the two of you were standing. The poor man cowers behind Akemi who elbows him off her figure as she tries to browse through you and Mizu's shared Netflix account.

Your eyes glance toward Mizu who grumbles under her breath before turning towards you.

"Never let him in our dorm ever again please." Mizu deadpans prompting soft laughs from your lips. You then watch as Mizu walks toward you, eyes squinting at the side of your temple before grabbing your face with one hand—cheeks smushed.

"Mijuuuu," You whine as she tilts your head to the side. You notice her gaze on where Taigen kissed you. Your eyebrows furrowed as Mizu reached you with the sleeve of her hoodie pulled over her fingers. She then makes harsh wiping movements on your temple causing you to groan.

"Ow." You sob playfully as she finishes her ministrations. Mizu then turns your head towards her, the corners of her lips slightly upturned as she squishes your face within her grasp.

"Cute." She mumbles before leaning down to place a chaste kiss on your forehead. Your heart thumps against your chest—eyes wide as a deep flush rises to your ears. Whether Mizu noticed it or not, she only pulled away and walked over to where Akemi and Taigen were—both too busy fighting each other for the remote (Akemi wants horror but Taigen insists on a Ryan Gosling marathon).

You stand still in the hallway, breath hitching as you try to calm yourself down.

Unfair.

There's a nagging thought at the back of your head that you think that you might've been a little bit too lenient with Mizu.

Your friendship and current situation as roommates didn't start off in a good footing. Having met Ringo and Mizu during freshman orientation, you had no choice but to stick close to them due to the unfamiliar environment. Ringo welcomed you with open arms while Mizu didn't care if you joined or not. Apparently, she didn't really care about Ringo or you.

It was safe to say that your first impression of your roommate with her ever-perpetual stone-cold glare had not been the best. After all, she had ignored you most of the time and tended to stray away from your group of three.

It was during that time that she had issues with her current roommate who always tried to bring people in as a one-night stand that the two of you decided on common ground.

You were out that night, going on a quick walk break from midterms when you saw Mizu complaining at the front desk. Still considering her your friend albeit a bit hesitant due to her off-putting nature, you hear Mizu complain to the landlord. You overheard her issues with her roommate and decided to offer your space up as your previous roommate had shifted courses, was transferred to a farther building, and therefore had to move to a closer dormitory. She seemed awkward but grateful enough to accept your offer.

Then things are where they are now. After knowing and living with each other for at least 2 years now, your closeness with Mizu didn't really bother you. It was nice being comfortable enough to just be authentic in front of somebody without the fear of getting judged. Mizu tends to be quite direct with her words and doesn't like to bluff around. That's what you kind of love and hate about her.

Love because she's upfront—what you see is what you get. She gives you thoughtful advice, the most rational between the two of you, mature and level headed enough to tell you the truth when nobody else would. Hate because sometimes she's too direct. Direct about your mistakes and wrongdoings but also direct about what she feels.

Like this instance.

"Mizu?" Your feet cladded socks thump loudly against the wooden floor, waddling your way toward your roommate who is busy mopping the living room.

"Yeah?" She calls out, hair tied in her usual bun as she continues to clean. She hears you enter the area, turning towards you with her hand outstretched. "Careful. Floor's wet."

"Yeah, yeah." You grab her hand, watching as she puts the mop away to the side. Finally having her undivided attention, you swing your hands back and forth as you come to say what you went for in the first place. "So y'know how Akemi got her internship at that company she really worked hard for?"

"Mmh."

"Then she was offered like a position right?"

"Mmh."

"So like, as a reward for her great performance, she got tickets for us to watch Laufey next week."

Mizu's eyebrows raised in recognition. "Really?"

You nod your head with enthusiasm, smile brimming from ear to ear. Mizu's eyes softened as she lets you continue.

"So I was wondering," You bite your bottom lip as your hand shifts to wrap around her index finger—still swaying it back and forth. "Can you help me find an outfit, please?"

Mizu hums as you peer at her with an excited grin. The raven-haired woman glances at her unfinished work before sighing.

"I suppose cleaning can wait." She responds before getting pulled in a hug.

"Thank you! Thank you!" You make careful tiptoes around her work as you walk back to your room.

It takes Mizu about 7 minutes to finally reach your room with a soft knock on your door. You tell her to come in as she gently opens the door to walk inside.

"Options?" Mizu sighs in relief as she plops down on the bed. You tell her your options and Mizu nods for you to try them on.

It takes a while for both of you to decide—eventually having to stick with two dresses. Finally trying the last dress on, you twirl in front of the mirror, examining the way you look before meeting Mizu's eyes on the reflection.

"That's the one," Mizu says with a soft tone. There's something about the way she eyes you up and down with a gentle look in her eyes paired with the soft tone of her deep voice. You pause, turning around to see her on the edge of your bed, arms resting on her knees—hands interlocked with her body leaned forward. Those hues of blue peer up at you with half-lidded eyes. Your cheeks heat up.

She breathes a heavy breath before motioning for you to come over with a come hither motion of her fingers. "C'mere."

You make slow steps toward her form, a couple of inches away from each other. You look down at her as she eyes you up, an unreadable look on her face before she suddenly stands up from her seat. Suddenly you're reminded of Mizu's height, albeit only a couple of inches taller than you, you still had to crane your neck at a distance as close as you were now. Suddenly the air seemed thick and constricting.

There's a sudden tension filling the air as the two of you only look into each other's eyes. You find yourself unable to blink as you admire her features. A mix of handsome and pretty—a face you've seen countless times and yet still be in awe of.

Just as the moment had started, Mizu suddenly ends it with a flick on your forehead causing you to blink.

"Hey!" You whine at the sudden gesture, hands reaching up to touch the spot she flicked at. Mizu smirks, chuckling.

"You blinked, I won."

You scoff at her. "Unfair."

She then fixes the fabric of your dress, making sure that the pleats and the flow is positioned nicely. Then the next few words stun you.

"You look really beautiful, Y/N." She says with such a genuine tone that it leaves you speechless. Seeing your reaction she lets out a few laughs then pinches your cheek. You let out a chuckle at the sound of her laughter.

"Favorite Laufey song?" You tilt your head in curiosity as you look up at her with a smile. Mizu softly blinks with a gentle smile.

"Serendipity."

Your hands slam against the wooden surface of the desk inside the library's discussion room. Three pairs of eyes—one filled with curiosity, one with indifference, and one with annoyance. You breathe heavily as you lock eyes with each one.

"I think I like Mizu."

Suddenly Taigen stands up from his seat and applauds you—Ringo, ever the sweetheart he is, smiles at you and waves his arms for a little celebration dance.

"Congratulations, Sherlock," Taigen smiles sarcastically. "If I had to watch the two of you in an eternal battle of who's the most oblivious, I would already have a degree in Bachelor of No Communication, Major in being a pussy and a minor in having mommy issues."

Akemi gives him a disgusted glare. "Can you shut the fuck up or is being a yapper your honest profession?"

"Alright," Taigen raises his hands. "Chill."

Akemi rolls her eyes before looking at you with her lips upturned. "Happy that you're finally realizing it, hun."

You groan as run your palms over your face. "That's the problem!"

"Why's that a problem?" Ringo asks innocently. You pull yours hands down with a huff.

"It's Mizu."

"So?" Akemi raises an eyebrow.

"Mizu's my best friend," You whine. "I can't risk it when I don't know if she feels the same."

"Be fucking for real right now." Akemi deadpans as she crosses her arms over her chest. "The damn woman looks at you as if you've just given her the stars and the moon. Y'know know how much I envy that?"

Taigen nudges Akemi beside him with a pout. Akemi glances at him with a sigh. "I was just making a point. You'd have to be dumb stupid to not notice anything at all, Y/N."

You purse your lips as you sheepishly look at Akemi like a child being punished.

"You did, didn't you?" Akemi squints her eyes with a smile. "Precisely why I favor you over that emotional catastrophe of a woman. I suggest taking the chance. It's not every day that you find someone that's a complete fit for you."

Akemi gives you a soft smile. You purse your lips as Taigen gives you a thumbs up.

"You can do it, Y/N." Ringo smiles at you from his seat. "If there's anything I know about Mizu, it's that she cares for you a lot more than you think."

You nod, encouraged by your friends' advice and reassurance. While Mizu's someone you didn't want to lose, you'd rather take the risk on giving her the love she deserves rather than keeping it buried within you.

Finally, your resolve is built and strengthened. It's just Mizu, it should be alright.

To put things simply, it had been 3 weeks since your talk with Taigen, Akemi, and Ringo.

The three have tried their very best to allow you to confess but somehow Mizu always has something to do or something keeps ruining the moment. Confessing in a cafe? Suddenly a random NPC interrupts. In the library? Librarian follows you everywhere with that judgmental gaze of hers after your previous altercation. Campus garden? Mizu's getting called for org duties. Your own dorm? Mizu's asleep.

You're at your wit's ends and while you can tell that all of this isnt intentionally done, you can still feel the frustration.

It's this night where you reach your final straw.

You had just gotten home after a day of requirements, finals, and activities. Mizu's schedule was moved a bit earlier causing the two of you to be quite busy due to the gap in the dates for your finals. When you're free, Mizu's taking an exam. When Mizu's got nothing to do, you're working your ass off in the library.

The finals season has completely ended and you're walking home with a fleeting mind and relieved sigh.

As you make the turn toward your dormitory, you notice a familiar head of black crouched over the sidewalk. Your eyebrows furrowed as you see Mizu busy with whatever caught her attention. Just as you reach at least a meter away from her, you see a fluffy white cat perk its head behind Mizu's figure, blue eyes sparkling with curiosity as it mews at your figure.

"Huh?" You hear Mizu hum before turning to face you. A look recognition passes her eyes. "Oh. You're home."

You fall silent as you continue to watch her pet the cat. You hear its purrs as it leans its head to Mizu's touch.

"I cooked hotpot upstairs," Mizu says, eyes still looking at you. Her hair is down, only pinned back by her glasses worn over her head. That little frail bang escapes with ease from it as she looks down to see the cat on its back, paws demanding a belly rub. She's wearing the black sweater you gave her with its sleeves rolled up to her arms.

Fuck. Why does she look so—

"I can tell you're spent," Mizu softly smiles at you. There's a slight breeze that gently ruffles her hair. "You did so well, Bonnie."

Then it's as if something snapped within you and there's nothing that could stop you from unleashing the pent up frustration of not getting a moment with her.

"Oh my god," Your gaze is unwavering as you stare at her figure. She raises an eyebrow at your response. "I'm so fucking in love with you."

Mizu stops her ministrations with the cat, figure tensing as the light breeze of the wind fills in the void. Your heart thumps as you breathe heavily, watching any sort of reaction for her shocked face.

Then it is as if you could hear a pin drop then a change in the atmosphere. Mizu is flushed deep red, eyes blinking as she stares at you with mouth agape.

Your eyebrows raise in amusement.

"Huh?"

"I love you." You repeat taking a step closer to her crouched form. She furrows her eyebrows, blush spreading up to her ears. Oh?

"I-I don't—"

You grin as you crouch in front of her, eyes trained on her shy features. "I said I love you."

"Y/N." Mizu grumbles as she tries to glare at you.

"What?" You shrug, smile brimming from ear to ear. The emotions on her face are clear as she stammers and stutters in front of you.

"That's not fair." She grits her teeth.

"What's not fair?" You tilt your head in amusement.

"I wanted to say it first." She mumbles as she looks down at the cat purring between the two of you.

You let out a soft laugh at her whining.

"Well, I'll pretend I didn't say anything and that I just walked back from school," Mizu eyes you in confusion as you stand back up and run a few meters away from her—back from where you previously stood. You clear your throat as you straightened yourself up. "Oh my god! Finals is so hard, if only there's a hot tall masculine woman to declare their love for me."

You end with a dramatic touch of the back of your hand against your forehead. Mizu chuckles, shaking her head before standing to her full height. She reaches you with ease, lips turned to a smile as her hands make their way to cup your face.

"You're an idiot," She grumbles with affection before pulling you in a kiss. There's no time wasted as you kiss back, clutching the fabric of her sweater as she tilts her head to deepen the kiss.

You squeak as you feel her tongue intertwine with yours. You feel yourself get lightheaded, melting in her touch as your arms wrap around her neck while hers takes hold of your waist. She pulls you closer with no distance left to break you apart. You whine as you feel her bite on your bottom lip, gently pulling it before pulling away. Heavy breaths are what fills the space between your bodies, eyes still trained on swollen red lips while want and need courses through your veins.

She lets out a grunt as she dives to taste more of you, pecking your lips once, twice—thrice before finally breaking off.

There's a moment of silence before hushed giggles errupted between the two of you—Mizu swaying your bodies as you both bask in each other's presence.

Hushed whispers, sweet nothings, wide smiles, and stolen kisses are all that's seen between two idiots in love. Before you can further enjoy your moment with Mizu, a loud meow interrupts your moment. The two of you look down at the cat licking its paw as it stares up at you both.

It swishes its tail back and forth, tilting its head before stretching. You and Mizu look at each other with a smile.

"You up for another roommate? Might be severely in love with you too." You tease as the cat leans its body against Mizu. Your girlfriend rolls her eyes. You giggle.

"Oh, shut up."

a/n:

you: *sees mizu w a cat* marry me

mizu: ?

projecting ken tendencies in taigen mb. akemi is a mood tbh.

#arthenaa #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #the blue eyed samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #Spotify

1K notes · View notes

ashwhowrites · 5 months

Note

Love your older Eddie!

Picturing him working somewhere with a sweet, sunshine-y younger woman. Maybe a restaurant or store? He’s got a crush on her, but she’s always getting hit on by the younger, flashier guys who work there so he never thinks he’d have a chance. To hide his feelings he’s been a standoffish grump, so he can’t believe it when she reveals she has a crush on him at the work holiday party.

Angst/fluff/smut whatever you like - I know anything you write will be amazing! Thank you ❤️

I love older Eddie! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting <3

Work crush

Working at a small restaurant that focused more on the younger crowd, wasn't the exact job Eddie pictured for himself. But after his car shop got shut down, he just needed anyway to make cash. In a way, it was like he had to start over.

He didn't enjoy how much older he was than everyone else who worked and dined there. He worked with young twenty-year-olds who needed cash throughout college and served bratty teenagers. Other than the cook, he was the oldest one there.

His older looks and charm got him good tips. Younger girls enjoyed the flirtation and teasing games. Eddie delivered that as much as he did their food.

He hated the younger guys he worked with. They were loud, annoying, and sucked at their job. Eddie had to cover their slack as they snuck out back for smoke breaks. But there was one worker that Eddie secretly adored, Y/N.

She was also young, part of a group of annoying guys. But she was polite, hard-working, and sweet. She brightened the restaurant up whenever she walked in. She made Eddie feel butterflies and he loved watching her happiness rub off on everyone. Many people requested her, she was one of the best. And she was damn beautiful. Which sadly, everyone noticed.

Eddie lost count the many times he overheard her being asked out, by customers and the employees. Eddie couldn't help but compare himself to the guys that asked her out. They were all young and looked like they'd be on the cover of a magazine. Eddie was nothing like that, he didn't stand a chance.

When she turned down Beck, even Eddie was shocked. Beck was the heartthrob of the restaurant, almost every girl signed their number with their receipts. He was tall, and fit, with blue eyes and dirty blonde curly hair. He was sweet and polite, and Eddie hated to admit he was perfect. If perfect Beck couldn't get her to say yes, Eddie knew there was no hope for him.

With that realization, he didn't tease himself with the thought. He kept his space and didn't get to know her. He knew if he learned about her, he'd fall for her even more. It was safer to not know who she was. He just admired her from afar. He smiled to himself when he heard her sweet laugh. And he tried not to punch Beck across the face when he flirted with her his whole shift.

~~~

Tonight was the holiday party and Eddie didn't plan to go. He didn't want to party with a group of kids, he felt too old for that shit. The party was at a bar, and the owner had the dumb idea of everyone wearing Christmas sweaters. Eddie didn't own anything like that and he wasn't going to spend a dime to wear the ugly thing once.

Eddie cleaned up his last few tables, the restaurant closed early for their event. He pocketed the tip, ignoring the lipstick kiss and number written on the receipt.

"Poor girl, she was probably hoping you'd call." Eddie jumped as a voice came from behind him. He quickly turned to see Y/N standing there. A teasing smile on her face.

"I think she'll be fine," Eddie said, scooting into the booth to clean the table. He watched as Y/N took a seat across from him. She silently watched as he worked. Her eyes were on his arms and hands.

"Any numbers for you today?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, but not interested." She shrugged. She patted the table, a hint for Eddie to sit down. Eddie threw the towel on the table and took a seat. He didn't want to be that rude to her face.

"Never are." He teased, she smirked and moved on.

"Are you going tonight?" Eddie tried not to roll his eyes at the question.

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Why would I?" He argued back

"It's a work party, you work here and you're invited." She said, pointing out the obvious.

"Nah, it would be like a dad hanging out with college kids. It's embarrassing. And I'm not wearing an ugly Christmas sweater."

"Yeah, but it would be like the hot dad you secretly want around. The kind where you go to your friend's house every weekend just to see her dad shirtless in the morning." Y/N said, a certain look in her eye. A look Eddie got from many of his customers. She was flirting....with him. "I have a bunch of my dad's old Christmas sweaters, I'll bring you one!" She stood up excitedly. Like she declared he's going.

"You think I'm hot?" Eddie asked, he couldn't help a tiny smirk that crossed his face. Everyone flirted with her, and she picked to flirt with him.

"I do and I know you'll look hot in the sweater. See you tonight." Eddie stared at her ass as she walked off.

"I'M NOT GOING!" he yelled after her. He heard her sweet laugh and the bell on the door.

~~~

Eddie groaned as he pulled up to the bar. He was two hours late. Mostly because he was debating if he was going to come or not.

He walked into the bar and scanned the room. He found a few of his coworkers scattered around. A few at the pool table, a few at the bar top, and a few in the back booth. He walked to the bar, at least he got to drink through it.

He held his drink and looked for her. He didn't want to make it obvious, but he knew he didn't care who was there, he came for her.

"EDDIE!"

Eddie turned to see a tipsy Y/N, her hands in the air as she raced into his chest. She crushed him in a hug. Eddie slowly hugged her back.

"I knew you'd come!" She said as she pulled back. She was decked out in Christmas wear. An antler headband, that he'd hate if anyone else wore it. But of course, it looked adorable. Red eyeliner and dark lashes. Her lips were red and Eddie stared at them for too long. Her Christmas sweater was full of printed-on lights. A few real lights that flickered. She had a black skirt, tights and black boots. She was glowing.

"Did you know?" Eddie teased, smiling down at her as she leaned on the bar for support.

"Of course. I knew once you found out I wanted you to come, that you would come. " She explained. She grabbed his hand, slightly tripping on her feet.

"Woah okay. Maybe you should sit." Eddie laughed, he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"No! We gotta go to my car for your sweater!" She argued, she didn't move away from his touch. She loved the feeling of his arm wrapped around her and the way she could smell his cologne. "Just help me." She said and began walking.

After a few stumbles and many laughs, they made it to her car. She unlocked it and grabbed the sweater from the seat. She slammed the door shut and leaned against it. Eddie removed his touch from her as he grabbed the sweater.

"Put it on!" She said she looked so excited and Eddie didn't have the heart to say no. He gagged on the inside but sucked it up.

"I gotta change my shirt so let's go inside." He said but she didn't move.

"don't be silly. Just change here. I'll cover my eyes." She threw her hands over her eyes, a giggly smile on her face. She was somehow even more adorable drunk.

Eddie didn't fight on it. He took off his jacket and placed it on the top of her car. He took a deep breath, preparing for his skin to hit the cold. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt with one hand and yanked it off. He let it drop to the floor as he put his arms in the sweater, as he pulled it on over his head, he heard a small squeak.

He could see Y/N's fingers split open, allowing her to see through. Eddie felt his cheeks warm at the thought of her peeking.

"Did you just squeak?" He asked, trying to hold back a smile.

"No" she mumbled, embarrassed.

"I can see that you're still peeking." Eddie laughed, she groaned and dropped her hands.

"I couldn't help it! You can't be this hot older guy that I want to ruin my life and expect me to just not stare at you." Sober her wished she'd stop talking.

"Ruin your life? That sounds like a bad thing." Eddie said confused.

"It means I have this huge crush on you. I see you flirt with those young girls and I hate that you never did it with me. I hate that everyone flirts with me, and you haven't." She pouted, she crossed her arms as she sighed sadly.

Eddie let out a small smile, moving closer. He lifted her chin with his finger and leaned down.

"I didn't flirt with you because everyone else got shot down. I didn't think I'd be different. But now that you are loose with your lips, I can admit I've been attracted to you since your first day."

Y/N felt her heart skip multiple beats. She couldn't believe the words he said, but the reality of his lips pressed against hers made her believe. She uncrossed her arms and wrapped her arms around him. Her palms were against his back as he deepened the kiss.

She wasn't sure if the alcohol or the kiss made her dizzy.

~~~

"Where the hell is Y/N? She got sat like ten minutes ago!"

"Where is Munson? His table has been waiting for the check for an hour!"

"I think we need to get back to work," Y/N whined, her hands against the door.

Eddie stood behind her, his hands gripping her hips as his cock pounded inside of her. The harder he went the more she cried. She felt her legs go weak as she tried to keep herself up.

"Not until I cum." Eddie grunted.

~~~

"Anything else I can get for you?" Y/N asked the pen smacking against the notepad. She tried not to seem annoyed with the rowdy group of male teenagers.

"You on the menu?" She tried not to roll her eyes. An unpleased look on her face.

"No, but my boyfriend serves up a delicious knuckle sandwich if you want to try it." She said with a glare.

The boy whistled, almost like her attitude made it more fun.

The second she felt the boy's hand touch her thigh, she snapped.

"EDDIE!"

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut x female reader #ashwhowrites

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formulaforza · 9 months

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💐 hi my wonderful birthday girl !! so i was thinking about a dress coded lewis blurb (because i was born a lewis and ts girl) where they just get drunk together and there’s teases flying and stuff. keep it as brief as u wish <333

—you can take it off

lewis hamilton x merc!reader summ. thank you stephy i love u bad <3 inspo from... ur never gonna believe it... this. hope it's up to your standards my love. 2.7k (kind of got out of hand)

You were half-asleep and half-drunk the night of the Belgium Grand Prix. The air was cool, recycled like all air seems to be in hotels, smelled of too-strong perfume and was filled with the dull noise of elevator jazz. What had begun as a before-we-go-to-bed night cap in the hotel bar with Bono had turned into a seemingly never ending addition of guests.

Valtteri was first to join—never could pass up the opportunity to give you shit, to offer you job postings at Alfa Romeo that weren’t job postings at all—and with him around, there’s no casual drinking. You don’t try to keep up, not really, because you know you don’t stand a chance, but also because he would never let you. After all these years of being just a few months younger than him, he still calls you kiddo, still promises to call your parents when you’re out after dark, and always sends you a text after a race with some… questionable strategy decisions you’re catching flack for online.

A brief appearance from Toto and Susie, just long enough for them to know they had no business trying to go drink for drink with Valtteri, and then they’re wishing all three of you a wonderful summer break and retreating to whatever room is considered prestige enough for Motorsport’s it-couple.

And then there was Lewis, the last to arrive, who never called you kid, who never viewed you as one. He sits adjacent you in the red, high back leather booth and takes up a seat and a half, the toe of his shoe brushing against the side of yours, flashing you apologetic puppy dog eyes every time he bumps against yours.

It’s somewhere between drink number five and six that Lewis gets his first, insists on a toast to the summer break that officially began… six hours and fifty-three minutes ago. For a long season this and a too-short summer break that, you lot had a mouthful of things to complain about, but a million more to be grateful for. “To not having work for a month,” Lewis proposes, clinking his glass against yours, offering a quick wink and holding it up properly over the table.

“To no racing-talk for a few weeks,” Bono adds, clinking his glass against Lewis’.

“To summer-fucking-break,” Valtteri chimes in, laughing at himself before the rest of you get the chance to match it.

“To summer fucking break,” you repeat because you know there’s no better way to sum it all up.

Unlike the other two, you slowed down when Lewis joined, wanted to give him time to catch up, to give yourself time to meet him somewhere in the middle. A glass of water and a virgin rum and coke and another water and the night is still young.

“First summer break as the big boss, kiddo,” Valtteri remarks, and you have to squint to hear him through the alcohol-induced thickening of his accent.

“That’s right!” Bono laughs. Your cheeks run hot at their mention of your title, of your promotion following James’ departure earlier in the season. Lewis smiles against the rim of his glass, bumps his foot against yours and doesn’t give you apologetic eyes. No, he raises his brows so slightly you think you’re the only one that notices, which is probably exactly the way he intended it to be. “Little miss queen of strategy is making the big money now, got any big travel plans?”

Lewis clears his throat, and your eyes dart over to his almost instinctively. “You’re staying in London, yeah?”

He’s right. Your summer-break plans consist of four weeks of trying to remember what it feels like to do nothing, failing at that task pathetically, and spending the rest of the time meticulously picking apart every call you’ve made all season and imagining the million and one things you could’ve done differently and their billion and two outcomes.

You pick apart the drink napkin, tear it into tiny little pieces. “Yeah, yeah. Just staying home, catching up with friends and family,” you clarify, try not to sound as pathetic as you feel. It’s hard not to when you’re sitting next to the guy who spends his offseason snowboarding in Antarctica with his celebrity friends and his weeks off traveling to Paris fashion week for front row seats next to supermodels. Anything you say would sound pathetic to someone who makes thirty-five million a year.

“I love it,” he nods, stares right through you and into your soul so you know he’s being genuine. “That’s awesome.”

You nod, swallow hard, purposely angle your body away from his, to the rest of the group. “What about you guys?”

Lewis laughs, soft, quiet, completely under his breath. The kind of laugh that deserves to be bottled into a jar and kept on a shelf for safe keeping. You know he’s always laughed like that, even before he knew you, but in the last few months it just feels different. Good different, like he’s laughing just for you now instead of everyone else too.

You know you’re crazy, that he’s just Lewis being Lewis and you’re just single for the first time in a long time and also drunk. Not half drunk anymore, just drunk—even if you do think you’re meeting him in the middle, you’re not. He’s just chasing after.

“Back home, too,” Bono concludes. “Take a breather, might head up to the country with the family.”

“You’ll take pictures, yeah?” Lewis asks, starts to pick up the pieces of your napkin tear pile and move them in front of him like a kid who isn’t patient enough to share or destructive enough to rip up his own. You watch in your peripheral, the way he fiddles with the wet paper, gets it stuck to his fingertips. You can’t laugh, so you don’t, but you want to. You think he knows you want to.

Bono scoffs, nods while swallowing a sip of his drink—something dark, something pungent. Not what you would have pegged him for ordering, even after knowing him as long as you have. “So I can compare with the likes of you lot and,” he turns to Lewis, leers around you to emphasize the eyeline, “your million dollar vacations or,” and then the other way, back to Valtteri, “your olympic cycling events?”

Valtteri smiles, swirls his drink—gin, you think. Expensive. “Yes.”

“No chance.”

“I’ll be sure to send you a picture of me having a meltdown when I think about our side pods from the beginning of the year,” you chime in, because it’s not like they all don’t know you well enough to know exactly what you mean by spending time with friends and family at home.

“What sidepods?” Lewis chuckles.

“Fucking exactly,” you add, mirror his mannerisms without even realizing it, all the way down to readjusting in your seat when you’ve had your laugh.

“Could be worse,” Bono offers. “Could be last year.”

Lewis nods, holds his drink up in the direction of Valtteri across the table. “We never should have let you leave.”

He smiles, weak, lips pursed. “I could have told you that.”

The night continues on, all drinks and laughs and yawns, occasional remarks that it’s about time I head up, followed by another round, another joke, another comment about this, that, or the other thing.

You’ve always liked Lewis when he’s a little tipsy. He lightens up a bit, you can actually watch the stress drip from him like sweat, all the titles and the wins and the losses, they all just fall away when he’s relaxed like this. You’ve always liked him like this. Always. Before he was king of the world and before he was the prodigal son and every moment in between.

After every joke he makes—or, after every comment he makes that he thinks could be considered a joke—you find yourself laughing, because it’s Lewis and you have a crush on him and of course you do. And, without fail, everytime you laugh, he winks, like you’re in on some inside joke even though he’s making it to the whole table, like there’s some double meaning to all of his words that are meant just for you, just for the two of you to understand.

Somewhere in it all, it comes back to Lewis, because, well, it always does. “Is your back still bothering you?” Bono asks, and you think you already know the answer. You think you know, because you can’t remember the last time you;d seen him take careful consideration of his posture when he sits. Not even now is he sitting up straight, with his legs perfectly spread a shoulder’s width apart and his feet flat on the floor. Instead, he’s taking up more room than he needs to, all relaxed and comfortable on the leather booth bench.

He swipes his thumb over the condensation of his glass, looking up from the action at you, and then to Bono. “No, no. All good there.”

“All good?” Bono prods, because he was on the receiving end of a year and a half of complaints from Lewis.

Lewis nods, clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “No Paracetamol in a month.”

Across the table, Valterri chimes in. “None?”

“None for my back,” Lewis says, and the whole table laughs. You just watch him, though, because who laughs better than he does? You could wax poetic about it without a second thought, the way that his lips upturn and his cheeks round and his eyes crinkle and go soft in a way that makes you feel like you’re the funniest person in the world even when you’re not making a joke. The way that his smile is brighter than anyone’s you’ve ever seen, and the way that if you look at it for too long, you think about how it would feel to run your finger along the gap in his teeth.

“That’s what I thought,” Valtteri mutters off the end of his laugh. “You're getting old.”

“Not too old to make half a million.”

The entire table’s heads fly to him. You gasp, an embarrassingly wide smile on your face. “You didn’t!” You almost yell, smacking his upper arm with a weak hand.

He mocks your gasp, makes it somehow more dramatic and over the top and laughs sweetly, shrugging your hand off his arm and letting his hand fall to your leg, bumping your foot with his again. “I didn’t.” The table chuckles, you pout, and then you realize that his hand is on your thigh, that it’s staying there quite comfortably, and that you mind it less than he does.

“Don’t be a tease,” you sigh, take a swig of your drink. Your knees are suddenly weak, like you know you wouldn’t be able to stand up if you wanted to. It’s like he can sense your change but can’t quite read it, because then he’s moving his hand back to his own lap, interlocking it with the other and resting it there.

He nods, suddenly shy, suddenly guilty. “It’s as good as done.”

Valtteri laughs. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.” You hear what he says, but you’re not listening, not really. Lewis stares into you like he wants to look anywhere else—apologetic eyes and a fear he’s taken a misstep. He hasn’t, you want to tell him. You haven’t, put your hand back, please. Silently, you try to convey what shouldn’t dare be spoken. “I’ll believe it when pen is on paper.”

He snaps his eyes away from you, back to Valtteri. You don’t follow suit, stay fixed on him, on trying— hard—to get your message across. “I’m telling you, they’re announcing it after the summer break.”

“Whatever you say, Mate.”

Bono nods around a mouthful of alcohol, sets his half-empty glass down with an incidental thud. “Who’s to say we still want your geriatric ass?”

Lewis raised his interlocked hands from his lap, to the tabletop, resting his elbows on the wood grain and rattling the empty glasses when he does it. He leans in towards the center of the table, even though the only person separating him and Bono is you. “Would you tell Schumacher ‘no?’”

“What was that?” You ask, your words a convenient excuse to lean in closer, to settle into a spot that much closer to him without raising any brows. To brace for the shift, you leave your hand on his thigh with less subtly than your original movement, but it’s okay. It’s okay—only Lewis knows where your hands are, and you don’t want it to be subtle, don’t want anything to be lost in translation. “I can’t hear you over your ego,” you smile, and your fingers dance up his leg just a few, careful inches.

He drops back into his seat, drops his hands back into his lap. Under the table, he grabs yours and laughs, but it’s stifled, stunted, not quite relaxed. “Very funny,” he humors, and moves your hand back. His stays too, though, and he crosses one leg over the other under the table. His thumb moves over the fabric of your slacks in shudder-worthy circles.

“Someone’s gotta check you,” you smile, nod in the direction of your tablemates without ever looking away from him. “These two won’t.”

Bono scoffs.“Are you kidding?”

Your smile grows. “How do you want me to answer that, Peter?”

“Damn,” Lewis laughs so hard he coughs. “She Peter-ed you. That’s cold.”

“You’re the one comparing yourself to Michael fucking Schumacher,” Bono scolds.

“I didn’t say that, but,”

“But!” You interject.

“But,” Lewis laughs, threatens to continue even though all at the table know he won’t, knows that no matter how often the media and the girlfriends and the friends and the family tell him he should put himself up there with the greatest, he’ll never quite see himself in the same light. “But it’s about time I head up, I think.”

“Ah, see,” Valtteri chuckles. “Old man Hamilton can’t hang.”

“No, he can not,” Lewis remarks, pulling his phone and his hotel keycard from his pocket, setting the latter on the table and if you were feeling a little crazier than you are, you’d swear he nudges it ever so slightly out of his bubble and into yours. He types away rapidly at his phone, and you try to pay attention to the jokes Bono and Valtteri throw around, the pokes at Lewis they make, but suddenly you’re feeling like it’s a good time to head up, too. You try to shake the crazy, to leave it with your backwash in the final sip of your drink, and you do. You do.

You do, but then he’s slipping his phone back into his pocket. He’s leaving his glass just beyond his keycard and telling you to feel free to finish it. He’s saying his goodbyes while he moves out of the booth and his hotel room key is still sat on the table next to you. It stares at you—the hard, thin plastic. Stares at you in its white paper pocket with the intricate printing of the hotel label and dares you to look at him when he walks away.

You do, begrudgingly, subtly, and his eyes are already on yours. They’re expressionless, and yet, say so fucking much. You hold the remainder of his drink in his direction before downing it in a single gulp and then he winks at you. He looks at his keycard on the table, and then to you, and then he winks, and you’re sure you’re absolutely crazy.

You swallow.

“Oh, fuck,” Bono says, reaches over you to grab the keycard from the table. It’s like you were zoned out and he snapped in front of your face, the way it pulls you from Lewis to the table. “He forgot his key.”

“Oh,” you squeak, and then louder, “I can take it to him.”

“No, no, It’s okay,” Bono says, and he makes you stand up to get out of the booth. “I should be heading up anyway.”

“Really,” you half-insist, trying to convince him you can handle it without letting him in on why you’re convincing him. “It’s no problem.”

Bono pulls out his wallet, flips through the pockets of it and fiddles with his bills. “Our rooms are right by each other,” he insists, tosses his share onto the table. “I got it.”

“Okay,” you nod, accept your defeat. “Yeah, I should be heading up, too, I guess.”

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blackhairandbangs · 5 months

Text

That's What Friends Are For

Seo Changbin x Reader

info/masterlist

word count: 2.8K

genre: smut smut!! but its a little fluffy in the beginning

summary: you head to the studio to return bestfriend!changbin's hoodie and end up talking a bit about your friendship

warnings: smut! minors DNI, oral (f recieving), unprotected sex (don’t do it!) maybe a little choking? Reader is called “baby”, “baby girl”, and “bunny” Let me know if I’m missing anything!

a/n: this is currently unedited... i was too excited to post this and haven't given it a second look-through yet.

reblogs are MORE than appreciated <3

You and Changbin had been friends for years. Chan had introduced the two of you just pre-debut and you both had been inseparable since. From late nights over at his dorm, to early mornings at the studio, he just seemed to get you in a way you others didn’t.

Him and Chan were spending another evening in the studio, finishing up songs for the next comeback. The booming of bass flooded out as you opened the soundproof door.

“Hey,” you started to speak, giving the boy a small wave. “Hope I’m not interrupting, Binnie, you left your hoodie at my place last night and I know how cold the studio can get so I figured I would come run it by.” You saw the blush fall on his cheeks as you walked over to where he sat at the mixing table to hand him his tan hoodie. Truthfully, you had planned on stealing the hoodie, wearing it around the house, but you two were just friends and that didn’t seem like the appropriate “friend” action. A good friend would wash the hoodie, fold it up nice, and bring it to the owner’s place of employment, right?

“Oh my goodness, you are so thoughtful, thank you!” He takes the hoodie, slipping it over his broad shoulders. “Come have a seat! I was just finishing up this new mix before Chan gets back.” You nod your head, happy to have a chance to hang out with your friend. You loved watching him work. Something about the way his eyebrows furrowed when he was deep in thought, the way his hair would get ruffled underneath the booth headphones, the way he would bite his lip trying to get the audio effects just right, the way he… But all of the things you noticed couldn’t be anything more than platonic… You just loved to see your friend passionate about the things he enjoys and is good at. All friends love to see that!

“Do you want to hear a bit?” Changbin asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. You whip your head to look at him, taking the headphones he held out in his hands.

You give him a sincere smile, “I would love to.”

He leans over the table, pressing a few buttons before leaning back in his chair to get a clear view of your reactions. You get engulfed by the sound, taping your hand on your leg as the beat carries.

“Oh my God, Binnie, this is amazing!” You say, removing the headphones as the cut comes to an end. “My best friend has to be the most talented person in the world.”

Changbin gives a shy laugh at your praise. He is so grateful you enjoy his work, but the word “friend” hits him in his heart every time you say it. “I’m glad you like it,” He tries to hide his disappointment with a smile, just happy to have you here with him, even if it’s not in the way he wants.

“How has everything been going for you today?” he continues. You two saw each other the night before but were used to talking multiple times a day. However, his studio schedule left him with no free time to do so all day.

“Oh you know, the usual,” You start. You look down at your lap, twiddling your thumbs a bit. “Just another failed date, I really need to get off these apps.” You give a small chuckle, hoping to move on from the topic. You had met a really nice guy through one of the many dating apps on your phone and had planned to meet for coffee earlier in the day. You waited at the shop for an hour before realizing he was not planning on showing up and went home where you threw yourself on the couch until you could muster the strength to get up and bring Changbin his hoodie.

“I told you, you need to try meeting people in different ways!” He laughs. This was a conversation you two had often. You would constantly complain about all of your failed dating app dates. The dates you went on to clear your mind of the crush you had on your best friend. Your best friend would then suggest you meet people in person rather than on your phone. “Maybe you can find dates through hobbies, or maybe your friends?”

You give a small laugh before leaning closer to him. “You know, thats not a bad idea…have any friends I can date?” The question wasn’t serious, just a little joke to get a reaction out of him. You knew you didn’t want any of his friends, just him.

Changbin laughs, scratching the back of his head. “Well, there’s me-” he starts before realizing what he was saying, “and Chan, of course.” His original comment was muffled and flew right over your head. “But, I don’t think you want to date Chan, hes practically married to that sound booth,” he says, gesturing to the open booth in front of the desk you two sat at.

“Hmm… I don’t know, Chan is pretty cute…” You tease, avoiding eye contact with Changbin. What were you doing? Sure, Chan was good looking, but definitely not who you have been pining after. Actually, the guy you were into was sitting right next to you and you just told him you found his friend cute!

“Oh come on, I am not allowing you to date Chan,” Changbin says, playfully hitting your arm.

“Ow!” you laugh, rubbing where he hit, even though it wasn’t even close to actually being in pain. “I’m only joking, Binnie.” You take the opportunity to lean your head on his shoulder, the contact making your ears hot. “Besides, I’d choose you over Chan any day.”

Changbin moves his shoulder so you pull your head up to look at him. He gives a small smirk, “Oh, really? Hm, well you know I’d have to think about that,” he says to tease you. He wasn’t sure where this confidence was coming from. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but he was having a hard time keeping his feelings in tonight. He lets himself come back to the moment, remembering who you are. “You’re quite interesting, but our friendship will always come first,” he says, hoping you couldn't read the sadness in his eyes.

“Right,” you speak quickly, looking away, leaning back to your chair. The space between you grew back to what it should have been. “And we are really good friends.”

“Yes we are, and I am so happy about it,” He gives a fake smile and places his hand on your knee. “You’re really special to me…” his voice trails of as he sees the blush growing across your face. He rolls his chair closer to you reaching his other hand out to gently cup your cheek.

“I might have been teasing you earlier about Chan, but I mean it when I say you’re special to me. I..I like you, you know?”

Your blush goes deeper, feeling his warm hand on your face. Sure, you two had spent many nights cuddles up watching a movie, but something about this contact felt different. It felt intimate.

“Binnie, please don’t play with me like this…” You look down, not wanting to show the disappointment in your eyes. “You like me as a friend, right?

Changbin turns his head the other way, pulling himself away from you. “Yeah,” he nods, “As a friend, I promise. I’m just messing with you,” he says, trying to cover his tracks, hoping none of this is making you uncomfortable. “Friends do that, right?” He asks, turning his attention back to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder pulling you into almost a sort of side hug.

You give a small laugh, “Yeah, totally! Friends can do a lot of things.”

He releases his arm from you, meeting your eyes. “And what kind of things can friends do?”

You look down once again to hide the color of your cheeks, which you are almost certain are about as red as a tomato at this point. “Oh you know…” you trail off, trying to think of an answer. “Friends can cuddle, and…” you don’t allow yourself to finish the thought, feeling the tension sitting in the air.

Changbin leans in, placing a small kiss on the top of your head, sending a shiver straight down your spine. “Well then, friend,” he says, placing an emphasis on that last word, “How about we cuddle for a bit? I could use a break from this song.” He pats his lap, motioning for you to come over. Without hesitation, you are straddling his lap, head resting in the crook of his neck.

He smiles softly, feeling your warmth against him. “Good friends,” he sighs, reaching a hand to stroke your hair. “I’d say we make quite the comfortable pair.”

None of this was feeling real to you, you had to bring yourself back to reality. You lift your head from his shoulder, “How much is left to finish on the song?”

He gives a small chuckle, feeling your breath on his neck. “Oh not much, actually. We’re almost done, just a few more lines,” he starts to rock you gently, feeling your hearts beat in sync.

“That’s good,” you reply, looking up and leaning close to him. “Binnie, just out of curiosity, is there anything else you think close friends could do?” You run a hand through his hair, loosing control of your brain. The words came out without a thought.

Changbin’s heart races slightly over the close proximity and your question.

“Well, good friends can share secrets, and support each other…” he trails off feeling the warm breath of your lips above his. “But were just friends, remember”

You look him up and down, “Binnie, if we’re just friends, why can I practically feel your heart jumping out of your chest right now?” You let yourself be bold, knowing you need him in ways he will never understand.

He swallows hard, unable to meet your eyes. “Friends…um friends…do that…we’re um…just really good…” He struggles to get the words out, reaching out to touch the side of your face.

You decide to just go for it, letting all rationality leave your brain. Your hand comes up to grab his chin, turning his head to look at you. “Now, as a good friend, does this do anything to you?” you ask, practically feeling the heat of his cheeks radiating into the air.

His breath hitches, your faces inches apart. “Well, um… a good friend might be curious about the feelings of another close friend.”

“I think this good friend has maybe had strong feelings for the other good friend, bit was too scared to ruin anything.” His heart races even more, wanting nothing more than to say the words he has been waiting to say for years now.

“A good friend might have those sorts of feelings too…maybe..” You cut him off before he could finish, finally bringing your faces together, letting yourself lean into the kiss, your arms snaking around his neck.

Changbin moans softly into the kiss, gripping your hips as he leans back in the chair, allowing himself to be pinned against it by your weight. He pulls away momentarily, looking you up and down.

“Your lips, feel so soft against mine, I’ve always wanted to taste them.” A shiver sends through your body, feeling his grip tighten on your hips, leaning in to take more of his lips in yours.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Changbin’s tongue sweeps against your lips gently, begging for entry as he deepens the kiss. He is completely lost in the moment, his mind blanketed by the desire to have all of you.

Your lips part, allowing him access inside. A small moan leaves your throat as the kiss intensifies. You pull away for air, your mouth still lingering close.

“Baby, when was Chan supposed to get back?”

“Not for another hour at least,” he starts, peppering your neck with kisses as you through your head back. “He had some things to take care of.”

“Perfect,” you lean in to take him into another string kiss, this one feeling different. It lingered with lust and need.

He pulls your hips closer, his tongue gliding against yours. A small whimper escapes the back of his throat as his hands travel up and down your back. You grind softly against him, feeling his hard grow underneath you.

“Fuck, yes…” he moans, kissing every part of your lips, down to your jawline and neck. He growls low in his throat as his hand moves down to grab your ass. “Tell me what you want, baby”

You moan, continuing to grind your hips, wanting to feel more. “Anything please, I just want you.”

He takes this as an invite to stand up. You allow your legs to wrap around his waist as he carries you to lean against the back wall.

“Binnie,” you whimper, feeling the contact of your head against the wall.

“Fuck, that name,” Changbin breaths out, his hands exploring every inch of you. He tugs on the hem of your shirt and you lift your arms, allowing him to take it off in one swift motion.

“You are so fucking sexy like this. All needy for me,” He starts to speak, lowering himself to his knees as his hands grip your thighs.

“Binnie, please” you moan out, desperate for his touch. He takes this as an invitation to swiftly remove your pants, leaving you in nothing but a bra and panties.

“Let Binnie make you feel good, baby” He says, brushing against your sensitive folds, pushing your underwear aside to leave kisses on your clit. He licks a stripe down you before inserting a finger inside of you, thrusting with precision.

Your head hits the wall as you moan. “Fuck, how are you so good at this?” Your words come out as jumbles as he continues to please you.

“Come on, baby. I’m not stopping until you cum all over my fingers,” Changbin murmurs, picking up the pace of his fingers inside you, working you up to the edge.

Your hands reach down to grip his hair, feeling more pleasure than you’ve ever felt before.

“Go ahead, cum for me baby. Let it all go,” he whispers against your clit, sending your legs shaking above him. He feels your walls clench around his fingers and presses his mouth against your clit one last time before standing up and sucking everything off his fingers. His breathing is ragged as he watches you come down from your high.

“Fuck, youre incredible, bunny.” You pull him into a needy kiss, moaning as you taste yourself on his lips. Changbin hums into the kiss, running up and down your back as he holds you close, “I could do this all night.”

“Please,” you whine, “Binnie, I need you to fill me up.” He laughs, picking you up and throwing you down on the couch that lays in the back corner of the studio. Changbin gets on top of you, leaning down for his tongue to invade your mouth once more. Your hands reach down to tug on the waist band of his sweatpants, pulling them and his boxers down.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, pulling away from the kiss slowly. You nod your head, looking at him, the hunger in his eyes making you flutter. He takes his cock in his hands lining up with your entrance before pushing himself in slowly.

“Tell me when I can move, baby”

“Please, Binnie, I need you,” You whimper, needing to feel him take all of you. With a hum, he starts a steady pace, hitting every spot inside of you. You throw your head back in pleasure, moaning out his name, his cock hitting places you never even knew about.

“I’m not gonna last much longer, you feel so good,” He whines, reaching a hand up to snake around your neck, squeezing gently. “Come on baby, cum for me, you can do it.”

You feel your stomach tighten as you reach your high, trying to use your hand to muffle your screams, remembering where you two were. You clench around him as his body shudders in pleasure as his seed fills you up completely. He reaches down, planting kisses down your neck, not yet pulling out from inside of you.

You speak out, breathless between kisses, “You should probably finish that song before Chan gets back…”

“Mhm..,” he hums, pulling out and sitting up on the couch, his breathing finally stable. “Come here, baby girl,” he says as he pulls you up into his arms, nuzzling his nose against your hair. “You’re amazing.”

Your head falls in the crook of his neck, taking in everything that just happened.

“I take it we’re not good friends anymore, huh?” you ask, giving him a small laugh and placing a kiss on his cheek.

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before returning a giggle to your question. “Definitely not,” His voice is soft as he leans your foreheads together. “You're mine now, and I promise I’m never letting you go.”

A/N: there ya go! this was my first time writing smut in years so I do hope this turned out okay! my requests and asks are open if anyone wanted to pop some hot takes, suggestions, comments or anything else you may want to say. Thank you for coming along with me as I finally return from my 3 year long fanfic hiatus. Happy Holidays guys!

#changbin x reader #bangchan x reader #felix x reader #han jisung x reader #hyunjin x reader #jeongin x reader #lee know x reader #seungmin x reader #skz #stray kids x reader #changbin smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids #stray kids smut

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licorice-tea · 3 months

Text

The Object Of All My Desires

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: so much angst, unrequited feelings (or so law thinks!), pining, yearning, (verbal) fighting, cursing, reader refers to law as a “stalker”, which is valid tbh bc he’s being a little weird, but not really, strawhat reader

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: oh my god i spend so long on this and i just kept hitting mental roadblocks! but then, tonight i got the inspiration to write like ~500 words and finished it up. there were only meant to be 2 parts, but similar to the second season of bridgerton (which it’s inspired by) there will be a 3rd! (the 1st part is based on the first meeting of kate/anthony, this part is based on that entire pinning phase+the confesssion, and the last will be shorter and basically be a resolution of everything.) also, im looking for beta readers! pls dm or comment if you’re interested!!! and if you’d like to be tagged in the next lmk! thanks for reading <3

Part 1 • Part 3

The second time you and Law were around one another long enough to have to face the other and, god forbid, speak, would come 2 years after your first meeting. After all your training apart from your crew, you had finally united and started traveling together again. You and your nakama took on all the challenges Fishman Island had thrown at you and soon moved on to the next adventure: Punk Hazard. It was there you met the standoffish Captain of the Heart Pirates again, and he proposed an alliance to Luffy between your two crews. So here you are; in an alliance with a captain you’d managed to piss off 2 years ago, and who clearly still carries that grudge with him.

Law already doesn’t like being part of the alliance with Straw Hat- but you only make it 1000 times worse. It’s unbearable having to be on the same ship as you, let alone sit at the same table over meals or pass each other in hallways. Not to mention, you seem to make everything a competition. And he doesn’t want to be in as childish a feud as the one that the swordsman and the love cook have, but you’re forcing him to act that way. You’re absolutely insufferable, and how he ever found you remotely intriguing or pretty to begin with is beyond his comprehension.

And yet, Law can’t pull himself away from you, nor you from him. He lingers in dark hallways just to pass by you as you go about your errands on the ship. He stares long enough to burn holes through you, then turns away milliseconds before you catch him (or so he thinks.) But every time you approach the reserved man, he exudes an air of annoyance.

It all makes you wonder, “What’s his deal?” Besides your little tiff back in Sabaody 2 years ago, you’ve never done anything to offend him in his time on the Sunny… Maybe you just need to clear the air. Yeah, that’s it; confront Law and ensure there is no bad blood between the two of you. No grudges, just goodwill.

You hope.

The Strawhats and co (Law) are docked at a small island, just for a day or so. Frankly needs supplies, Sanji; ingredients, Chopper; medicine, Zoro; booze, etcetera. And since most of the others have something specific they’re in search of, you have a free day to explore and shop!

You bid Brooke goodbye and thank him for watching the ship, then make your way up the dock and into town. It’s a quaint area, but the market near the entrance of what resembles a town square is overflowing with interesting bits and baubles.

Though you are happy to have this time to yourself, you’re not alone. Law is a mere 20ish feet away. He doesn’t greet you or even make eye contact, instead choosing to lean into shadows and stand behind vendor booths. You can tell that he’s trying to go unnoticed, pretending to be interested in whatever wares the shopkeepers have for sale every time you turn back to check for him.

And it’s fine, for a while. This could be a good opportunity to try and talk to him and ensure that the two of you are on good, if not neutral terms. It’s a little strange that he’s following you now after the two of you have had close to no interactions during his week or so on board the Thousand Sunny, but you don’t mind.

You cannot, however, pass up the opportunity to harmlessly scare him when he gets momentarily distracted by one of the little shops. While Law is reading titles of comic books (how strange…), you double back so that when he looks up, he can’t find you. He scans the marketplace, but to no avail- you must have run off somewhere.

Then you tap his shoulder, and the man nearly jumps out of his skin as he whips his head around to see who it is.

“You really like stalking me, huh?”

“…I’m not stalking you.”

“No? Well, whatever you want to call it, it’s the second time it’s happened.”

“What are you-“

“Sabaody, 2 years ago.”

“I wasn’t stalking you then, either.”

“Fine; following me through at least 3 groves while trying to be quiet and stay out of sight.”

Law scoffs. “Whatever.”

“Hm…” You lean to the side to see what’s behind him; display shelves with various comic books. “What were you looking at?”

“Nothing, I wasn’t even looking here.”

“Ah, so it’s ok for you to lie to my face, but not me to you. Got it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

You nearly laugh. 2 years ago, after proceeding to follow you through several groves of the Archipelago, Law had insisted on knowing if you were a pirate or not, and the conversation had somehow escalated into an argument. It was a stupid little thing. But, you find it funny now, which is why you’re attempting to make jokes about the encounter and ensure him there are no hard feelings reserved over it. “Again, Sabaody.”

“Well… maybe you should stop carrying a grudge over that.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I only bring it up because I think it’s funny.”

“I think it’s childish.” Law doesn’t know why he says this, to be honest. He wants to come off as smart and witty, though he might not have executed it very well.

With a scoff, you cross your arms. “Law you’ve refused to even look at me in your time with my crew. When I try to talk to you, you act like you don’t hear me or straight up ignore me. Then you go and stare at me from across as if I can’t see you. And I’m childish?”

“Yeah, you are, and I don’t like you. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Better than you being an awkward asshole with no explanations as to why.”

“I’m not fucking awkward, shut up.”

“Oh no, you just follow people around for the better part of an hour without talking to them. Very charming.”

Law huffs, unamused, and storms off without another word.

You sigh and continue browsing the stalls. “Ok, so, maybe there is some bad blood between us….”

Things are awkward between you and Law for the remainder of the evening. Not only is he avoiding you, but you’re also avoiding him. And though you still try your best to be at least a little friendly, he straight up ignores all of your attempts. Whereas before your little confrontation in the marketplace, the stoic man would have at least responded with an eye roll.

When it’s dinnertime, you take your seat next to Robin as usual. Casual conversation and laughter flow around the table easily and seemingly endlessly… until Law walks in. He sits in the only empty chair, next to Chopper’s, and nods at Sanji in thanks for the food. And you, foolishly, try to incorporate him into the conversation. Maybe you do it to try and heal the small rift between the two of you, or maybe you simply want to provoke him further (though you'd never admit it.)

“So, Law, how was your day?”

Everyone pauses their conversations to not-so-discreetly listen in. They had also recognized the growing tension between you and the ally captain, for seemingly no reason at all.

“Mind your own business.”

“Hard to do when you’re always in mine.”

He nearly spits out his drink.“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m starting to get sick of your behavior, y/n.”

“So sick that you just can’t seem to leave me alone?”

“Watch the way you speak to me-“

“My apologies Law, I’m so used to being watched by you rather than having conversations, I must have forgotten my manners-“

“Shut up!”

“Fuck you!”

Now that both of your voices are raised, the crew sees it fit to intervene.

“Watch how you speak to them, Trafalgar-“ Sanji warns.

Similarly, Robin tries to talk you down. “Y/n, he’s our ally-“

The attempts to calm what had nearly turned into a screaming match prove futile, as Law storms out. You scoff and cross your arms. He’s so infuriating, it makes you sick to your stomach.

Silence passes as your crewmates look between each other, none wanting to be the first to… console you? Admonish? Give advice.

“You two should talk, y/n.” Says Robin, ever so mature.

“If he wants to talk, he can come to me instead of constantly staring at me from across the deck without saying anything.”

“Well, he’s clearly not very good at showing it, but you realize that he likes you, don’t you?”

You blink and turn to look at her. This must be another one of her dark jokes. “Very funny, Robin.”

“Oh, y/n, come on!“ Usopp groans; he’s had enough of the yearning and tension. “You seriously didn’t know?”

“No! Because he doesn’t like me. He’s been holding a stupid grudge against me since the first time we met back in Sabaody-“

Nami backs up Usopp’s point; “A crush, y/n. He’s had a crush on you and he’s too shy to talk to you normally-“

“So, what, it’s ok for him to just watch from afar but then act like a jerk when I try and talk to him?”

Surprisingly, Chopper speaks up next. “…Maybe your intentions came off different than intended?”

This makes you bite your lip in thought. Perhaps they had.

Nami pats your shoulder, “Now, go work this out so the rest of us don’t have to deal with all your unresolved tension.”

You unintentionally pout; the last thing you want is to talk to Law right now. But, your crew urges you on, and all but pushes you out the door.

You find him pacing back and forth on the starboard deck of the Sunny.

“Law?”

He whips around and you swear you see his scowl become even more pronounced than usual. The crease between his brows deepens, as the corners of his lips turn into a borderline pout. “Not done tormenting me?

“Tormenting? I just… I came to talk to you.“

“I find that hard to believe. From the moment we met, you have been nothing but rude and a nuisance to me.”

You scoff, all plans of reconciliation forgotten. “Believe me, Law, the feeling is mutual.”

“Fuck off.”

“This is my ship, so why don’t you fuck off? Jump overboard for all I care.”

“Maybe I will if it gets me away from you.” Law turns on his heel and storms off the open deck and into a hallway.

“Good luck swimming, asshole!”

Your rebuttal brings him right back to his former position, face to face with you so that your screaming match can continue “I hope you know that every moment I have to spend on this ship is torture, y/n, all because of you.”

“I haven’t done shit to you, Law.”

“Then whose fault is it that I feel this way? Go on, name someone else so I can take it out on them instead.”

“It’s your fault if you feel any type of way about me besides amicably. I’ve been nothing but kind, and-“

“Bullshit. Whether you know it or not you’ve done… something to me, I can feel it.”

“Oh yeah? And since when do you know anything about how you feel, all you do is brood.”

“I don’t brood. And I know that you are the bane of my existence.” He spits back, making sure to emphasize the word bane.

You hold your breath, refusing to play into this childish argument any longer. Or maybe it’s because, even if it’s just a little, his words genuinely hurt. You realize then, that you don’t want to be the so called ‘bane of his existence.’ He takes your silence as an opportunity to continue, though at a much lower volume than before.

“… And the object of all my desires.”

After a moment of disbelief, your scowl turns to a raised brow. “Excuse me?”

“Every one of my waking hours is plagued by thoughts of you. It doesn’t help that I can’t go anywhere on this goddamned ship-“

“Don’t you talk about the Sunny that way-“

“- without seeing you!”

“Well you must enjoy being around me if you’ve decided I’m,” you create air quotations with your hands, “the object of all your desires.”

You feel so out of your depth now. All you know to do is to bite back with witty remarks, even when he opens up to you. And he seems to do the exact same.

“It’s a nuisance.”

Your lip trembles, but you refuse to cry in front of Law while he plays this sick mind game with you. “I didn’t know liking me was such an awful fate.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “There are so many other things I should be focused on, but all I think of is you. It’s not awful, but it’s making me weak.”

“You’re such a prick, Law.”

He’s bewildered, mouth gaping as he tries to understand what could’ve been wrong with what he’s just confessed to you. “I’m saying I like you, y/n, I- Do you hate me that much?”

“No, I don’t hate you, idiot! But you- when you started traveling with us, you made me feel like I had done something to offend you, and then when I confronted you about it in the market you started to really hold a grudge, then you - I just- that’s not how you treat people!”

“Y/n-“

“Are you messing with me right now, Law? Is this another play to try and gain the upper hand in this… ongoing thing we have?”

“No, I wouldn’t…” He trails off and shakes his head. He probably would, if he weren’t so enamored with you and on the condition he possessed the social skills to pull off such an elaborate scheme. “It’s not.”

You’re silent again, but both you and Law are refusing to break eye contact. He must notice your still watery eyes and trembling bottom lip because he steps forward. His hand travels to your arm, then your chin. Forced to look at him, you are pained to see a similar unhappy look in his eyes. Minus the tears. You could almost take him for sorry if it weren’t Trafalgar Law, of all people. So instead of falling into his arms like you suddenly feel a desperate need to; you step backward.

You fold your arms over your chest as you look off somewhere- anywhere besides his eyes. “Law, nothing good can come of this.”

“This? What is this, y/n?”

“These.. feelings.”

“You feel the same?”

“I didn’t ask to feel this way!” You bite back, “But… yes, I do.”

“So what should we do?”

“We aren’t going to do anything, Law. You just stay in your lane, and I’ll stay in mine.”

“I thought you didn’t like that I was avoiding you?”

“Well now that I know why, what else can be done? Nothing can happen between us, Law. And we can’t allow feelings to complicate this alliance. I can’t allow that, at least; it’s too important to Luffy.”

He searches for reasoning that will trump yours but comes up with none. And so, with a heavy heart, he concedes. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Nothing happened.” Law confirms.

“And nothing will.”

You nod and start walking away. “Goodnight, Law.”

“Goodnight, y/n.”

And once you’re back safely in your room, the tears start to spill. You hate this- you hate him. You hate the way he makes you feel. You hate that you’re in love with him, and it took you this long to realize.

The tears don’t stop until you’re knocked out, and by the time you wake up, they’ve stained your cheeks.

Taglist: @augustanna @lavanderdreamve @pinksaiyans @khaleesihavilliard @jennapancake

#fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x you #x reader #law x reader #law x you #law x y/n #trafalgar d law x reader #law angst #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #straw hat reader #straw hat pirates

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rileysluvr · 1 year

Text

cliché jealousy trope except i suck at dialogue and ghost is a manchild in this but i still love him anyways!! nsfw <3

“Gaz is about to set the rack, if you’d like to join, Lieutenant.” You leaned one hand on his table and twisted your pool stick in the other, bending down to be heard over the loudness of the building.

Something about the way his title rolled off your liquor-smoothed tongue in that syrupy, almost meddlesome tone, had him swallowing thickly under his balaclava. He leaned back against the wall, toying with the glass of a thin line of bourbon in his gloved fingers. He made sure nobody got a peak of his face when he lifted the fabric for a drink, and despite your efforts and lingering eyes on him throughout the night and years that you’ve known him, he would continue to remain a mystery on that end.

“You really enjoy playin’ that nonsense with them?” he glared over at Soap and Gaz, downing shots and flipping the glasses upside down on the table as they waited for your return. You looked over your shoulder, and Soap threw his arms up to ask what was taking you so long. You returned to Ghost:

“I do. No harm in celebrating, Sir.”

“I’ll consider, but try not to make a scene out of it, Sergeant. You know those boys ‘ave got a hard-on for you.”

“Is that such a bad thing? Maybe tonight one of them will get lucky,” you smiled. Your words were uncharacteristic of you, and he was drawn back a bit in a mix of amazement and bitterness. He looked past you once more and Soap and Gaz were beginning to grow impatient.

“Don’t let me hold you back. Go on, I’ll watch.”

You pushed yourself from the table with a toothy smile, and returned to the game. You went up against Gaz, while Soap helped you to position yourself as you claimed to be relatively new to the sport. ‘Ladies first,’ and you broke the game, the end of your stick striking the white ball. Soap hovering behind you to guide your hits, and you got stripes, leaving Gaz stuck with solids. With each turn, Soap leaned heavier into you, hands staying on yours and your hips for longer to adjust you. You’d be a dirty liar if you said you didn’t enjoy his big arms around you, and his Scottish accent whispering tips directly into your ear. In full transparency with yourself, he had you worked and shuddering, and if your Lieutenant wasn’t already fuming with the last words you left him with, he would be sure to rub them in your pretty face later and have you gasping for air as the thought of another man, let alone member of Task Force 141, touching you had surely slipped from your memory.

You sent the white ball rolling into the black ball, pocketing it with the help of Soap and you dropped the stick on the table, both leaning up and cheering, embracing each other in a hug. You squeezed his waist as he praised your victory in your ear. Gaz was emulous, not so much because of his loss, but of the way you celebrated with Soap. Though, it was short-lived when you were pulling away from Soap and making your way over to him. You walked around behind him, placing your hands on his shoulders and massaging them lightly. You leaned up on your toes to whisper, “Good game, Garrick,” and he sarcastically crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. You dropped with a residual hand on his bicep, and you spoke to the two men, “You two play another round, I need to speak with the Lieutenant.”

Gaz mourned the loss of your hand as you walked across the bar and back to your Lieutenant. You clocked that he hadn’t touched his drink, or barely moved an inch since you were last there, as you slid into the booth opposite of him.

“You made quite the show.”

He spoke up before you could, an obvious change in his tone; disappointed and dropped down a notch from his already impossibly intense voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lieutenant,” you teased, but he was clearly not in the mood. His brows pulled together, distraught. How could you not know what you fucking did? To him?

He immediately relaxed his face. “Drink this, we’re leaving.” He pushed his glass towards you, the small amount of brown liquid sloshing with the movement, and he stood from the booth.

“We’re leaving?” you nearly scoffed out loud. Eyes staring down at yours when you caught his attention, he towered over you with the new dynamic. “I’m having fun here, Sir.”

“I noticed. Practically givin’ ol’ Johnny a fuckin’ lap dance over there.”

You definitely weren’t, and you took offense to his crudeness, but you also wouldn’t argue with him, a superior, and mentor - the only reason you were where you are. “And what am I supposed to tell them?” You nodded over to the pool table you came from.

“Make somethin’ up. Or don’t say anythin’ at all.”

He abandoned you at the table and walked to the bartender. As he pulled out his wallet, you watched in worry, knowing you had fucked up. You weren’t just going to leave without saying goodbye. You downed the little remaining bourbon in his glass with a wince before standing to tell Soap and Gaz you were leaving. Some bullshit reason and apology that you yourself could barely understand, your mind being everywhere else in that moment. Ghost paid cash for the drinks the three of you had racked up, plus some more for the boys to have a good rest of their night. He shoved his wallet in his back pocket and met you at the door without as little as a nod to the others.

“We’re stayin’ at the hotel across the street. You got a problem with that, Sergeant?”

He spoke to you like you were a little kid. You shook your head, and followed him out the door when he muttered a quick ‘good’ and nothing more.

The walk to the hotel was dead silent, and the ride up to the room was ten-times worse. You disrespected your Lieutenant, and while you couldn’t tell if you were actually in the wrong, or if everything was being blown out of proportion, the consequences would remain the same, whatever they may be.

The elevator dinged, doors opening up to the modern suite that the Captain had rented for the Lieutenant. The Sergeants never got rooms nearly as luxurious, on the rare occasion of being stuck in a different city for the night. Ghost’s palm landed on the small of your back, walking you both into the room as you gawked at the tall ceiling and fully glass walls looking down on the city. You stopped in your tracks to admire the view, though Ghost’s form passing you quickly snapped you back to reality. He began taking his jacket off when you finally broke the silence.

“…I’m sorry, Sir-”

“You disrespected a direct order.”

He tossed his jacket over the back of a chair, along with his wallet onto the table that went with it. He could barely face you, now unhooking his gun holster from his belt.

“I didn’t think you were serious.” Your voice was minuscule compared to his, but still held on to some confidence.

“‘Course I’m bloody serious, _____.” He brought his handgun down onto the table harshly, noise lining up with the peak incline of volume in his words.

Your name through his teeth struck your heart like a dagger, never sounding dirtier. He walked closer to you, watching his space.

“You think I wan’ t’watch another man touch you? Let alone Soap? And you fuckin’ let him?” he pried, allowing his tone and the likely apologetic answers in your mind to lecture you for him. “Bloody hell, _____, you’re testing me.”

“I said I was sorry, alright? It won’t happen again.”

He scoffs, turning away and back to his stuff on the table. He wouldn’t let up. “Bet it fuckin’ will.”

His words replayed in your mind. ‘Another man’? As opposed to who, himself? And his demeanor the entire night, practically screaming at you to focus. You relaxed in your stance, your next words coming off a little too straightforward.

“You’re jealous.”

“What?” he snapped, trekking towards you in an instant. For a man who appeared as unbothered as himself, he tended to pace quite a bit when he was angry. He halted once you were faced with his chest, dark squinted eyes set on your devilish ones.

“You don’t want ‘another man’s’ hands on me, you just said.” You pried, and pried back, trying to get a reaction. “That’s why you’re doing all this?”

He stayed silent. You took a risk and snaked your hands to the sides of his waist, tugging at the fabric and looking up at him.

“It’s called jealousy, Sir.”

“M’not jealous…trying t’teach you a goddamn lesson.” He lied; he was all sorts of jealous, and possessive with you, but he’d never admit it to you or himself. He stared down at you, dumbified by your actions.

“So you don’t like me?”

“I don’t appreciate it when you act like anyone knows you better than me.”

“Well, you know me best,” your hands trailed up his chest, to the base of his neck, where the fabric of his balaclava ended. “Wouldn’t’ve brought me to your room otherwise.” His skin was on fire under yours, and his mind abandoned all sense of reasoning once you called him out. “…But I barely know you.”

“You’re really goin’ to make me do this?”

“If it’s what you want.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, giving it some time. His choice was obvious—not even close to needing any deliberation—but he relished in the sight of you biting down on your lip, heels rolling back and legs flexing in anticipation.

“Oughta be the death of me, Kid… Take it off.”

He shocked you with his sudden leniency, while his voice did remain the same amount of gruffness and authority.

You tilted your head, “Really?”

“If it’ll help you sleep at night. Don’t make me regret it.”

With a smile, you slipped your fingers under the fabric and dragged it up his neck. Gently pulling it over his jaw, unveiling his dark stubble and pinkish lips. His eyes stayed on yours as you scanned every detail on the lower section of his face. The end reached his nose and you folded the fabric over the bridge of it when he suddenly grasped your wrist with his gloved hand and muttered a breathy ‘stop’. He didn’t give you much time to think before he was leaning down, pulling you in with his other palm on the nape of your neck. He kissed you deeply, and you moaned on his tongue out of stupefaction. You couldn’t say exactly how long you two stood like that, drunk on the released tension and few sips of alcohol from earlier. You pulled away, and your eyes met.

“Thought you were going to let me take it all the way off, Sir.”

“Always been a greedy girl,” he dragged, before drawing you into another kiss, much hungrier than the previous. He began to walk you back towards the bed, and you trusted his path and blindly went with it. You giggled, stumbling over your feet and, consequently, words.

“Can’t help it. Wanna see all of you,” you smiled.

The backs of your knees hit the mattress, and he pushed both hands lightly on your shoulders to get you to sit down. He got on one knee in front of you, and you swooned over the view.

“Go on.”

His words were simple, but you grinned dumbly at them. You reached your fingers out and slipped them under the fabric of his balaclava once again to pull it all the way off, discarding it to the mattress beside you. You’ve seen him without it a few times throughout the years, but his strikingly good looks always took you aback. Short hair that matched his beard in color, and the bump on the bridge of his nose. Dark circles under his eyes he usually had covered with the black greasepaint of Ghost’s look, a half-inch, horizontal scar right in the middle of his eyebrow that complimented the one on the opposite cheek. You’d never gotten to examine his face this close-up, so you couldn’t help but stare. You pulled him back up for one more kiss before he was back to his knees.

He untied your boots for you, throwing them to the side before he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your cargoes and harshly pulled them off from under you. You gasped at the cold air hitting your thighs, mostly in pleasure from his uncaringness for the formalities, and roughness with your plush body. You could even consider it desperation, manhandling you like you were not but a feather in his grasp, still, more valuable than any prized possession a man could own. He soaked in every inch of your skin he uncovered before you were only left in your panties, black, and laced as if you wore them for him, and the long sleeve, wooly shirt that matched his, and he absolutely reveled in the sight of you.

He really shouldn’t be doing this; you’re still young, and his responsibility, and he’s your superior - it’s wrong, written out in every language. Even a blind dog could see it. But he needed it. He needed you, so bad, he couldn’t even recognize himself in his thoughts. And you were just so fucking pretty, and witty and smart, a perfect soldier. He’d end up dead if he were to ignore it any longer.

He rolled up his sleeves before pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, simultaneously lifting your legs to hook over his shoulders. Your stomach was lit aflame, sweet butterflies and lively, strident sparks on burned wicks fighting for dominance. The eye contact this man held, you swore you would be a giggling puddle on the ground if it weren’t for your profession; still, it showed through in your blinding smile, painfully obvious, and it struck him with something he could only describe as a longing infatuation, so incredibly uncharacteristic of him it almost made him sick.

His beard against the bare skin of your thighs already had you squirming under his hold, and his bourbon-tainted breath only made it worse when he spoke.

“Such a pretty, little cunt of yours, Love.” He looked you in the eyes, “Are you gon’to let me taste it?” he hummed, and you leaned back on your elbows. His dirty words sounded native on his tongue, in that gruff, Manchester accent of his, the same one that had you dizzy when he was barking commands over the comms device in your ear.

You couldn’t have been more attracted to him than you were at that moment. You always admired his maturity, the experience he had over you, so you could only learn from the best. His strength and confidence in the field had you head over heels, and seeing it carried over to the bedroom, his prioritization and utter devotion to you, was a sight for the history books. While he saw his age as a flaw, you knew he’d be the only one to treat you right, and you wanted nothing more than for it to be mutual.

“Please, Sir.”

“Please, what?”

“Just- eat me out, please,” you whined. “Taste me.”

His lips pulled tight and curved at one corner. “Atta girl.”

He left messy kisses all up and down your inner thighs that encased his head, some leaving behind marks that would be there the next morning, as a reminder. His heavy palms, cold against your natural warmth and with bruised knuckles, massaged at the plush fat of your hips and below, and he finally landed his lips on your soaked-through panties.

You gasped at the first contact of his mouth with your clothed cunt, followed by the sweet moans and swears spilling from your swollen lips and slack jaw from the feeling of his rough tongue and the heat of his mouth painfully close to your center. The bump of his nose relentlessly teased your clit, and after one-too-many pleas from your breath, he wasted no time in slipping your panties down your legs and to the floor next to him, and shoving his tongue where you needed him the most. You watched on with dazed eyes, utterly drunk on the sight, while his couldn’t decide on what to focus on, your pretty sex-face or the messy cunt in front of him, wanting both engraved in his mind forever.

You tasted better than what would be described as heaven, and he could be like this for hours if he wasn’t so badly off, further straining his jeans with every noise you made, every second his eyes were on you. He had to take care of you first, warm you up for his taking, because he actually cared.

His tongue worked at your core like any task given to him; effective and efficient, and with the same rigorous aptitude he carried through the most important parts of life. You came apart under his mouth and grasp, the air filled with a mix of your pointless begging and sweet praises as to how well he made you feel, along with his occasional groans and hums from your taste and attempted grinding in search of more. He fed you everything you needed, but you couldn’t help but want more. More of him, his touch, the feel of being his.

As if he could read you, he granted your wish by bringing a hand to your cunt, and he slid two of his fingers in you without warning, maximizing your pleasure and overwhelming your every sense. Unable to hold yourself up anymore, you fully leaned back on the mattress, hands coming up to your chest to grope yourself through and under the fabric of your shirt. A heavy, tattooed arm on your lower belly weighed you down as you fought to arch your back, to find more within his mouth, cum faster, anything, as his two fingers slid in and out of your tight cunt, matching the pace of his tongue.

“You think any’ve those mutts could do this to you?” he mumbled, about the soldiers back at the bar, vibrations of his voice having you feeling more depraved than ever.

“No. Never,” you panted. “Only you, Sir. It’s only you- shit…I’m your girl.”

Your hand flew to the back of his head, the other finding his on your belly. He laced his fingers with yours, squeezing tight as those beautiful, soft moans spilled from your lips, uncontrollable and needy.

“That’s right, Love…you’re mine, and I’ll be yours here soon enough…just cum on my fingers for me, yeah? Can you do that, Sweetheart?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, nodding an “mhm” as you rolled your head back against the mattress, attempting to find solace with the pressure in your head growing stronger by the minute. With labored breathing speeding up, the thick rope in your lower belly finally tore, and you came hard on his fingers like he asked you to, pleasure intensified by the heavy weight of his hand on your gut. Your nails clawed at the nape of his neck, the pain combined with the warmth of your cunt pulling guttural moans from his throat as he helped you through your high. You whined when his tongue left you, a smug look on his face you couldn’t even see, and again when he pulled his fingers from your cunt, humming in satisfaction.

“Look at that, Love.” He stood from his position on the ground, eyes scanning over your body, height towering over your form. “Fuckin brilliant. You want t’taste yourself?”

You sat up and leaned back on your palms with straight elbows, a wave of dizziness hitting you despite your leniency as you moved, and you nodded, with big eyes and a fucked-out expression from just his fingers and tongue alone.

He brought his soaked hand to your face and shoved the digits between your lips. You opened graciously for him, and he pressed the pads of his fingers down against your tongue, your lips tightening around him. You moaned around him at the tangy taste of your messy arousal, and the overbearing space just his fingers took up in your mouth.

“You like it?” he asked, almost mocking you. He pulled them out of your mouth once your tongue had sufficiently cleaned them, and a short-lived string of your drool followed.

You stood from the edge of the bed, a stupidly-bright smile on your lips. “Mhm. And I like you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Your fists locked onto the front of his sweater, leaning into his frame and spinning him one-eighty.

“How much?”

“Can I show you?”

You pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed, and he more than complied.

“You may.”

You gave him a sweet grin and climbed onto his lap, thighs encasing his much larger ones as best you could. His palms immediately found your waist, and he hummed. You littered his face and jaw with kisses as you reached for the bottom of his sweater, pulling it up and over his head and discarding it to the floor, leaving him shirtless and you speechless. Broad shoulders and frame built of muscle naturally obtained through his line of work, scars ranging from all sizes and causes scattered across his torso. Abs still prominent even when slightly slouched and not flexing, and the squishy pectorals you knew you’d be falling asleep on tonight, wrapped in the blanket of his big arms.

You engulfed each other in another kiss—deep, sensual, and downright desperate—as your hands trailed down his neck and chest, finding the buckle of his belt and pulling the leather apart. The sounds of metal clashing together rang heavily in your ears, and his breathing was jagged. You eagerly undid his jeans and finally pulled his boxers down far enough to pull out his hard cock, shamelessly gawking at the size. His desperation showed through his sighs and strengthened grip on your waist as you wrapped your smaller fingers around his thickness, his brows knitting together and eyes prying shut at the limited touch. You swiped your thumb over the wet, swollen tip of him, and he just about lost it right there, grumbling a quiet swear and tensing his shoulders.

A distraction, or his downfall, he curled his fingers under the hem of your sweater. He asked with his eyes, and you answered by raising your arms and letting him take it off, his cock falling against his stomach. You sat perched on his lap, in nothing but your bra, and for once, taller than him. His lips connected with the flat area of your chest above your breasts as you held the back of his head, and he looked up through his eyebrows. He didn’t have to ask for you to reach behind yourself and undo your bra, and it fell and you pulled it to the side, allowing it to join the shirts on the floor. His mouth was immediately on your sensitive bud and after a moment, the other, and you felt the phantom of cool liquid pour down your back once the cold air of the room made contact with where his hot mouth was. You held him close, something of a motherly instinct washing over you for this behemoth of a man, dominating killer and all suddenly gone. You had Simon Riley, rather than the Ghost you were familiar with.

You took his cock in your hand and raised your hips, sinking onto him, letting him feel you in full, pulling a long and loud moan from each of you. You adjusted to his size for a moment, catching your breath, and he latched his lips onto your neck when you started to move, marking you as his. The stretch burned wonderfully; you had never had anyone even close to his size, and your belly fluttered fiercely because you knew he could tell.

You rode him sweetly, like you were the one taking care of him this time - the insatiable feeling of being on top of a man of his making, the same man you’ve seen snap bones and necks like they were twigs, ruthlessly torture an unfortunate accomplice with no complaint, and end the lives of helpless soldiers of the opposition with no remorse. Nothing could beat looking down at his agape lips and furrowed brows, twisted in the pleasure that only you were giving him; you relished in the explicitly nurturing power, and you’d do it til the day you dropped, if he would allow you.

He consumed every inch of you with his eyes and hands what his lips couldn’t reach, enthralled by your entire being, on him, with him, after knowing you for so long. He wondered if you’ve wanted this for as long as he did, and for a moment, he had completely forgotten about his responsibilities, his soul focused entirely on you, and your needs only. Those needs of yours, being to fulfill his, and just finally be his.

You took his right wrist in your hands, dragging it up your waist and chest, and brought it to your neck. He rested his calloused fingers on your skin, loosely wrapped just under your jaw, and you urged him to be harsher, to squeeze. A craving look in your eyes, virtually screaming at him, ‘go on, punish me.’

punish me for misbehaving at the bar, disrespecting your wishes even if they were unfair and selfish. punish me for not seeing it earlier, for thinking anyone else could have me in any way. show me whose girl I am, and will always be.

He would never turn you down, nor would he deny that he wanted it just as much, despite the gut feeling of guilt clawing at him through skin and muscle. He tightened his grip, feeling the throaty vibrations of your moans amongst the pads of his fingers, and you smiled with the small victory over him.

“Fuckin Christ, Sweetheart. You enjoyin’ this?” he taunted, panted, almost, and you saw right through his words; he enjoyed it, too, supported by his flexing muscles, labored breathing, and willingness to comply with the dynamic in the first place. You nodded feverishly, whimpering under his weakening gaze.

The sight had him crumbling; his hand dwarfing your neck, rough skin and veins and all, having yours appear to be the silkiest, most fragile object one could lay their hands on. While he wouldn’t, he could, so easily squeeze tighter, strip you completely of your breath and blood flow, crush you, and the idea had him lightheaded, hungrier, and you squirming around him. Needy, and desperate to redeem yourself.

He wanted to gain his control back, be the strong mentor you always knew him to be, the one to never give a second thought to his actions, think too long or get attached, compromised. But by God, did it feel good to let you take him, take care of him, and the needs he tried so hard to suppress. Deep whimpers faltered in his throat, unruly in their attempted and, only partially failed, escape.

“This is what you wanted, right, Sir?” you nearly pouted, small hands doing their best in grasping onto and clawing at the thick arm that led to your throat. You felt your thighs becoming weaker, shaking as you tried your best to keep going, make him proud. “Make sure I’m yours for good? Fuck some sense into me I needed so bad? ‘Cause it’s working…I’ll be yours for however long you’ll have me, Sir,” you devoted, eyes big and innocent.

“Fuckin hell, Darling,” was all he could muster up, stuttering slightly as your cunt took him so well, squeezing vigorously in addition to your already there tightness.

With his hand at the base of your throat, his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist, continuing to aid you in riding his heavy cock, back and forth with the lazy raising of your hips a mere inch or two from his lap. He brought you down and his lips engulfed your swollen ones, tongue bullying yours as the hand on your neck kept you in place to his liking. Rougher, meaner than before. Ravenous, desirous and aching, and you fed into his craving like the good girl you were, wanting nothing more but to please him.

He pulled away to rest his forehead on your shoulder, eyes glued shut and hot breaths fanning your skin as he could no longer control the groans emitting from deep in his throat. You were so good, your small body on top of him, riding him, and he knew he wouldn’t be lasting much longer.

He twisted his body, and yours with his, held tight to his chest, and he laid you down on the bed, pushing you further up and situating himself above you; like you were not but a featherweight toy, made to be molded into any position of his liking. He hungrily slid his cock back in your cunt with a groan, you a moaning mess, and he buried his head in the crook of your neck, hot breath having you struggling and failing to keep still. Your hands found his back, nails digging into the skin encapsulating pure muscle, moans amplified with the new angle at which he was rutting into you. His hand had abandoned your throat to grope at your breast, momentarily pinching the painfully sore bud between his rough fingertips.

Your moans became more unraveled by the second, blindly nearing your second high of the night as he continued to hit the deepest point in your womb, the friction of the stretch of his cock and pelvis against your cunt driving you up the wall in ways you never had experienced before. The tightening of your cunt around him, combined with the dragging of your nails down and between the blades of his shoulders, had him seeing galaxies, with you at the center of each of them. He twitched inside you, leaving you drunk on him, and him only.

“Cum inside me, please, Baby- whatever you do, don’t stop. Please, wanna feel you,” you whined, and he raised his head slightly to look you in the eyes, hips slowing.

‘Baby,’ you had called him, unintentional but undoubtedly sounding right in your voice, and it sealed the case of your dynamic, future and present. He was so used to Sir, Lieutenant, Ghost…he’d forgotten what it was like to be addressed as an actual person - a lover, with whatever names you would assign him. And to let him cum inside you? He would’ve never imagined it, actually being able to claim you as his own, or allowing himself to do something so risky. Funny, considering his job.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, just trust me, Baby- fuck, m’so close!”

“Fuck- call me that again, Love,” he unwinded, damn-near begged. He resumed his pace, wanting nothing more than to please you, gut feeling dizzier than ever.

say it again, please, say it again. i’m yours, i’m your baby- christ, how the fuck are you doing this to me?

You smiled at the request; the older man, stronger than the meanest bull on riding day, wants to be babied by his junior. Simon Riley — possessive and deadly, was actually a man who wanted nothing more but to be held, be had, by the willing girl he knew so well.

You would’ve started much earlier if you knew.

“Of course, Baby, making me feel so good,” you said through shaky moans, and he groaned against your shoulder, movements becoming sloppier. “Gonna make me,” you choked, “…cum on your cock, Sir…and I want you to cum with me, please? Give me everything you have, Baby- fuck!, you’re so good for me.”

Your hands moved to cradle his head as you spoke, his groans uncontrolled against your soft skin, almost whimpering, and your whines erratic as he hastily rutted into you with shambolic thrusts, refusing to cease. The zipper of his jeans grinding against your inner thighs drew to you pain, but you couldn’t be bothered whatsoever, so consumed with him, and reaching both of your highs, and nothing more - you’d be lying if you said a part of you wasn't enjoying the pain, and wanted more, as long as he was at the other end to deliver. He mumbled incoherently in your ear, back muscles flexing and his cock twitching inside you every time you squeezed around him, until the coil in your stomach finally snapped, washing over and you came quickly on his cock with a pornographic moan. His arms and pace weakened, the tightness of your overworked cunt and voice sending him spiraling into his own high of the night, and he spilled his warm cum deep in your pussy, there to stay. Nails clawing down the sides of his torso only making it all the more pleasurable, shown through the choked moan directly against your ear, having your entire body shivering under him. It all hit you without a moment to think, leaving you both winded, catching your breath, actually smiling, as he could barely hold himself up on his forearms above you.

He kissed from behind your ear and down to your collarbone, soothing each of the red, swollen marks he peppered your skin with. You giggled lightly when his lips grazed the most sensitive parts between your shoulder and jaw, arms coming up to wrap around his neck. He swore if a laugh, or face, could save lives, prevent bloodshed, it’d be yours.

“Can we stay like this for a bit?” you asked, almost in a whisper for the close proximity.

He muttered back, “I’d crush you if I let my arms up.”

“Wouldn’t be such a bad way to go,” you joked. His heart swelled, uncomfortably, and somewhat painfully.

He adjusted to his knees and pulled his cock from your cunt, the loss of his size making you whine into the sex-filled air, and he groaned lightly. The sight of his hot cum spilling to your thighs already had him hard again, and he fought his desires for another round with the sense that you both needed to rest. After a moment, he shoved his cock back in his boxers and zipped his jeans, standing from the bed.

You, too, sat up, bringing your legs together as you leaned on your elbows, shivering with his cum seeping out and staining your thighs. “Will you at least lay with me?”

Oddly, your words struck him like a dagger; something he hadn’t prepared himself for, both the concept and the impact of it.

“Need t’check on the boys at the bar.” He reached for his sweater on the floor, and you frowned. “Y’know what happened last time I left them to make it home on their own.”

You smiled as you recounted the memory; the drive to the police station and back, the relentless teasing and cleaning duties that followed as they clung to their foreheads in hopes of relieving the nasty hangover they endured.

“They’re grown men, Sir. I’m sure they can handle crossing the street and finding their rooms on a few pints,” you quipped.

He spun his sweater in his hands, and you could tell that, deep down, he didn’t want to leave in the first place.

“...I suppose you’re right,” he admitted, ditching the sweater once more.

You smiled giddily as you watched him return to the bed, around the side you were closest to. “I am about a lot of things.”

He got on the bed, slotting himself on his knees in front of yours. His hands on your knees, pushing them apart, just a bit. “Don’t get cocky, little girl.”

“I learned from the -mph- best-! Fuck, Simon!” Your sentence is strangled by your giggles when his fingers are suddenly between your upper thighs, unapologetically teasing your sensitive nerves as he collected his cum on the tips of his middle and ring fingers.

He brought them up as he taunted, “Is that right?” and he shoved his two fingers in your mouth without warning, watching your body jolt and eyes light up in shock. He quite enjoyed the view of you taking in his fingers, a little too much. “Where’s all that bite gone now, Darling?”

You savored the taste of him, paying no heed to his jeering, and instead your doe eyes returned a bashful, surprised look as you moaned audaciously around his thick fingers.

He pulled them from your lips with a pop, smirking at the expression on your face. he’s so pretty when he’s happy.

“You’re an asshole,” you laughed, failing to keep yourself in a serious, scornful manner.

“Is that any way to talk to your superior?” he jokingly ridiculed, and you rolled your eyes. An assertive hand on your jaw pulled you in for a gentle kiss, plump and pinkened lips meeting his.

“Is it protocol to fuck your Sergeant whenever you’re feeling a bit jealous?”

“Only when she doesn’t listen.”

He moved to be next to you, and you naturally gravitated to half-laying on him, head on his shoulder and a palm flat on his chest as he wrapped an arm around you. Softly, as to not break you, or himself, despite you holding him so tightly, trying to be as close to him as you possibly could without actually cracking open his ribs and crawling inside.

“Maybe I should do it more often, then.”

He scoffed. “You’re annoying, y’know that?”

“Yeah, well. You’d hate me if I wasn’t. You like the challenge.”

“That’s true.”

You’d settle for listening to his breathing, and him the same for you, attempting to not think about what was to come next, and instead actually be in the moment, and what just was. An impossible feat, of course, but it wouldn’t change what had happened. And neither of you would want to, ever.

His eyes landed on the balaclava at the corner of the foot-end of the bed, flat and straight and almost like it was placed with the intent to taunt him. Remind him of what he had abandoned, to be with his Sergeant. His Sergeant, who was far too young, and naive for him. His Sergeant, who, unrealistically, wanted him just as bad as he wanted her.

#cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x female reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut

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satoruhour · 10 months

Note

IDK IF U WILL SEE THIS OR ANYTHING BUT! is it ok if i request smth small and it starts off with gojo and the reader having a lil bit of banter by text, and the reader then says “satoru ur so pretty u should start a kissing booth for easy money” (as a joke ofc) and he was like “good idea” and went offline, making the reader freak out for the rest of the day until they came back to their apartment….. and found satoru set up a whole kissing booth in their living room

a/n: this is so cute!!! ty for the request anon <3 in this megumi is under satoru’s and reader’s care, tsumiki never went into a coma, and you’re married too / 1.3k

you loved satoru’s compliance. when you tell him that he should never cook again as a joke, he listens with a wide grin and a face that’s burnt on one side, sweeping the hard charcoal pieces of pancake into a pan. when you tell him you have two left feet, he simply laughs and just plops you onto his own, making you look like a fool waddling around.

a lovesick fool.

you’re left smiling into open space until a notification cuts you out of your daze, smile twisting into a questionable expression as your husband sends a picture of him posing in front of some boba tea shop, a promotional banner stating get spanked by one of our staff and get a free cup of boba tea!

[9:17am, the strongest and handsomest and coolest husband 🩵]: bet i’ll do it

[9:18am, delivered]: satoru. now. youll do it even if i dont bet you???!!?!!?!!

[9:18am, the strongest and handsomest and coolest husband 🩵]: hmm… compelling argument, i’m afraid you’re correct

a few minutes pass and you are confident it’s him asking for a spank with a blinding smile on his face, probably pointing to one of the male staff because i have a wife at home, y’know? she’s so pretty and hot-headed and hot and—

[9:20am, the strongest and handsomest and coolest husband 🩵]: photo attached

boba acquired 😈😈😈😈

[9:21am, the strongest and handsomest and coolest husband 🩵]: oh yeah, one of the staff called me pretty. was a guy btw. had to flash him one of my peace signs and i just know he swooned

the raise of your eyebrows returned, though you stifle a chuckle.

[9:21am, delivered]: he did not swoon i promise you

and another picture comes in, his face all up in the camera with a comical pout on his face and your laughter comes out more freely this time, basically hearing the looks you’re getting from the commuters in the subway, though your eyes are only focused on satoru, on the curvature of his lips and the peek of his baby blues behind the sunglasses you bought for him.

[9:22am, delivered]: joking. you’re so pretty, you know that right

years ago you would’ve told yourself that it’ll only fuel his ego, but that was long before gojo satoru had decided you were everything and more; where he values everything you say, where you’re all he worships. one compliment from you could shut him up forever.

[9:23am, delivered]: you should totally start a kissing booth for like …. $4 a kiss or something

it’ll be easy money ngl and then we can share the gains

[9:23am, the strongest and handsomest and coolest husband 🩵]: woah… good idea baby. alright then!

and gojo satoru goes offline immediately, leaving you left out in the cold, confused and perplexed when the satoru??? where the hell did you go??? texts fail to be read. it’s not often he does it, usually sending you a plethora of hearts or some stupid ugly sticker before the conversation ends. on the way to the school, you’re continually texting him, too, looking way more distracted than you would like to be in front of the students.

“sensei? any reason why you keep checking your phone?” yuji asks after lunch in the classroom, both arms tucked under his head.

“hm?” you answer but your eyes are still glued to the screen, the taunting ‘last seen at 9:23am’ taunting you endlessly and megumi looks like he has half a mind to just blurt it out, but he thinks it’s worth seeing your reaction later as he takes one more look at his adoptive father’s updates, sending picture after picture of his progress and he keeps the device tucked under to avoid any suspicion.

[14:09pm, my terrible father figure i guess]: do NOT !!!! SEND THIS TO MY BEAUTIFUL WIFE . i wll literally humiliate you in training later if you do

megumi sighs.

[14:10pm delivered]: don’t you already? also stop texting me loser she’ll find out

the raven-haired boy later is left to comfort you later when you’re holding onto the phone a little too tightly, and by then you’ve already gone through every possible thought. satoru dying, satoru meeting a curse that’s higher than a special grade, satoru on a rampage to kill the higher-ups, satoru—

“you’re going to die worrying about gojo-sensei like that.” and you roll your eyes, hand fishing around in your bag for the keys to your shared home while your eyes never leave megumi. it’s been like this for as long as you can remember: you being the voice of reason, megumi taking your rambles like he always has, gojo usually just laughs.

“yeah? well? how could i not?” you fumble with your keys and pick out the right one, putting it in the keyhole easily from the many times you’ve done it and you swing open the door, “not when he’s the strongest who has to take care of so many things without any rest! what if he got distracted and took down infinity? what if he—”

and sometimes you hated gojo’s compliance (you’re lying to yourself).

upon opening the door, the living room was full of cardboard boxes and cut out shapes, paint over the floor and on his jujutsu uniform, an all-knowing, but still stunning grin that you wanted to slap off of him. the chaos of the cardboard led to one thing: a small counter completed with a tip jar, his free cup of boba tea and a large sign that said kissing booth: $4 for a smooch!

and a smaller sentence is parenthesis, ‘free for my baby.’ the statement almost, almost gets you but you manage to ask him in a monotonous voice, “what are you doing, gojo satoru?”

“hi…?” megumi smiles secretly to himself before closing the door for you, putting the keys in your outstretched hand and it’s sort of the routine the three of you fall into everyday now. alas, with tsumiki staying in her university’s dorms, it was a little lonely for megumi, but the two of you were enough entertainment for him.

“well i was just listening to you!” gojo gestured to the whole place, which will probably be a pain to clean up, “who can blame my silly little brain for wanting to do a project to make my wife happy?”

you cross your arms in retaliation, but in all honestly, you wanted nothing but to greet the sorcerer with an embrace, something you’ve been meaning to do since your worrisome attitude from the morning. reluctantly, you frown while you make your way to the makeshift counter, immediately leaning forward before satoru puts a finger on your lips with a teasing smile.

“ah! four dollars please!”

bonus

“i was really worried, y’know,” the words are muffled from the way you’re buried in his neck that night, inhaling the scent that you missed all day. it’s summer in japan at the moment, but you find yourself craving his skin more than ever, a hand going up to brush through his stark white hair.

“’m sorry, baby,” satoru pulls away from you, as with you, sending you a small smile before pecking your forehead, “i promise to tell you what i’m up to from now on.”

you lean forward to close the gap, and all the kisses you exchanged earlier were definitely not enough. softly, your arms wrap around his shoulders while a leg goes over his body, gojo sounding out a little surprised hum at your eagerness. smiling into the kiss, satoru only plants more kisses to your nose, your lids, to your eyebrows and your chin, and another gentle one to your lips.

“even if it’s arts and crafts or maybe attempting to make you some strawberry tarts.”

you slap his chest lightly, a faux shocked expression filling your features, “i thought we agreed no more strongest sorcerer in the kitchen?”

“of course, sweet girl,” satoru lands one last deep kiss to show you truly the extent of his love. but even then, he knew it wasn’t enough, so he hoped, at least his words were, “i only ever listen to your voice — none else matters.”

i love him

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temiizpalace · 6 months

Text

☆┊WALKING IN A WINTER WONDERLAND !

SUMMARY: ah, it’s snowing at ramshackle. since there’s so much snow, you should invite somebody over just so there’s something to do. who do you invite, and what do you do together?

CHARACTERS: all dorms (+ grim)

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: cursing

CAN BE READ AS PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC (EXCEPT ORTHO)

reader gender is not mentioned, reader is yuu

snowball fight

he walks up to you, smiling innocently with his hands behind his back. you knew he was faking already. before you could even say anything, he had already chucked a snowball at your face. okay bitch it’s on. you form a ball and throw a snowball back at his head. snowballs could be seen flying left and right, hitting each other almost everywhere. you get the in the last hit before sprinting away and hiding behind the trees.

before you knew it, this was war.

grim, ace, leona, ruggie you forced leona outside

building snowmen

he already brought things to make snowmen in a little baggy before he left. it wasn’t stuff to make ONE snowman.. it was enough to make an entire army of them. somebody was excited.. still, it was fun! rolling the snow into 3 different sizes, stacking them on top of one another, finding sticks for the arms, it was great! you both decided to stop at 5 snowmen cause there’s only so many snowballs you could roll. obviously you named them. if you don’t where’s the fun in that? he loves these snowmen til the end of time, and would protect them for as long as he can. (don’t remind him about spring..)

deuce, trey, jack, kalim, ortho

sledding

there was a small slope at ramshackle, a sled in hand, and two people ready to go down at alarming speeds. he tells you it’ll be okay and that everything’s going to be fine, but as soon as he pushes off it feels like your life is flashing before your eyes. while he’s smiling and laughing, you’re worried about whether you were going to survive or not cause unfortunately you’re sitting in the front. thankfully you lived to see another day, and tell him it’s his turn to be in front. to your dismay, now that he’s in control you’re even more worried for your safety.

floyd, epel, lilia

ice skating

there was a large patch of ice nearby, and you couldn’t help but want to skate across it. finding skates was the problem though.. oh. nevermind, sam has those too! being such a generous person, he purchased the skates for you so you can save your money for more important things. you both stepped onto the ice, nearly slipping and falling right onto your face. it’s been too long since you’ve skated..

vil knew how to skate and glide gracefully across the ice. he looked so much like a figure skater right now.. just deadass elegant. it made you look like a noob.

however, if this isn’t vil you’re thinking of, he has ZERO experience on ice skating. there either was no snow where lived, or he wasn’t allowed to skate on his own. he requires some assistance. you held his hand, guiding him on the ice. almost falling over several times. exchanging smiles and laughter with each other as he learned along the way.

riddle, azul, jamil, vil, malleus

building a fort

you both decided to build a “secret base” together just for the heck of it. you and him were building the wall, occasionally throwing a snowball or two at each other, til finally the fort was complete. he was insanely proud of it and invited you in immediately. he was so excited, he even made some furniture inside. seriously there was a little booth and table when you walked in. it was kind of tight inside but at least you two being close together was keeping you warm.

cater, idia, sebek

walking in the snowfall

snow was falling from the sky as you both walked through the forest of snow covered trees. winter seemed like the only time of the year where ramshackle was a beautiful sight to see. you and him were having conversations about whatever the hell you wanted without any judgment whatsoever. he was also telling you about how beautiful the sky is at night during the winter. how the stars truly shine this time of year. he so graciously invited you to see it with him tonight as you accepted with a joking curtsy.

jade was totally freaking out about every pinecone though

jade, rook, silver

A/N: was thinking about jamil the entire ice skating segment 🫶🫶

date written: 11/26/23

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greenorangevioletgrass · 6 months

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fever pitch (b.b) - prologue

soundtrack: mastermind - taylor swift pairing: footballer!bradley x popstar!reader synopsis: Bradley shoots his shot in public, but will he fumble when he meets you in person? warnings: language, drinking, meet cute notes: my first series in a while! this is shamelessly based on the epic Taylor Swift/Travis Kelce saga currently happening rn, and combine that with my innate love of football (the kicking kind, not the NFL kind) and... voila! I hope you enjoy this. Let me know what you think in the comments, reblogs, and asks. Happy reading! <3 ✨I do not have a taglist. Please follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notification to get the latest update on my fics✨

Soccer Sensation Bradley Bradshaw Fails To Shoot His Shoot With Y/N At Her Concert?

Arsenal captain Bradley Bradshaw may be among his club’s top scorers this season, but even he misses a chance in romance like the rest of us.

The 29-year-old athlete spoke about his missed opportunity with the multi-platinum songstress Y/N while speaking to his former teammate Héctor Bellerín on the latter’s podcast, “More Than A Footballer”, earlier this week.

When asked about any fun stuff he did last weekend, Bradshaw replied,

“I went to the Y/N concert at Wembley [Stadium]... it was awesome. It was pouring rain, but it was amazing. I don’t remember Wembley ever being that electric aside from, like, cup finals. She was sensational.”

Bellerín nods in agreement, having heard great things about the famed singer-songwriter’s live concerts.

Unprompted, the American midfielder then continued,

“If you’ve heard about the tour, there’s this tradition of trading friendship bracelets. And I actually made one with my number on it, hoping I could give it to her after the show…”

The Cockney-raised Spaniard cackled in surprise and teased him, “But she didn’t wanna see you, bruv? [That is] legend!”

“No hard feelings!” Bradshaw raised his hands in defense over the Zoom call. “She needed to dry off and get warm. Gotta make sure she stays healthy, protect those vocal cords. But yeah, I was a bit bummed out about it.”

Bellerín laughed and jokingly addressed the camera, “Y/N, if you’re watching, give my boy a chance, will you?”

Mononymous pop sensation Y/N is hot off of her Kaleidoscope North American Tour, which wrapped in September. Her six-show run at Wembley Stadium this November officially kicks off the European leg of her sold-out tour.

Will they be the next pop royalty and conquer the stadiums with their own crafts, or will this fizzle out as this week’s viral anecdote? The ball is in your court, Y/N.

Y/N’s representatives have not responded for comment.

***

Your Miu Miu heels click and clack against the ground. The pavement gleams after the rain and glistens under the streetlights. Everywhere you look, your eyes hurt. Down, and you worry about slipping into a puddle and falling on your ass. Forward, and a million camera flashes are ready to give you an aneurysm.

All in the name of reporting your night off of work, performing live in front of 90,000 people in a stadium.

In other words, all in a day’s work.

There’s a moment of reprieve, when the silvery white blitzes disappear into the dim tangerine lighting of the lobby. The flight down the stairs is so dark, you’re seeing green. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust, but as soon as they do, the thumping bass line of some dance music hits your ears. Clashing perfumes doused on the dancing, dressed-up bodies that you have to weave through.

You are seriously regretting your girl friends’ invite to a night out. You could’ve just had them over to your hotel, open a bunch of red wine, and you would’ve still had a blast. But no. You had to say yes to going to the Cuckoo Club with Lacey, Amara, and Jo.

And this evening is making you feel quite cuckoo.

There’s champagne at your booth and you’re much too eager to take a glass and start a toast. “Cheers, bitches!” you yell over the music, clinking your glass against theirs before downing the whole thing in one go.

It’s nowhere near enough.

There’s not enough buzz to dull the assault to your senses—not even after the three glasses of wine at dinner earlier. Everything is still too loud, too bright, too crowded, too… much.

“Hey!” you nudge Amara, who is sitting right next to you. “Let’s do shots!”

She turns to you, eyes widening at the slightest. “I thought you wanted to take it easy tonight!”

“Changed my mind,” you shrug, as you get up to the bar.

While you make your way through the crowd on the dance floor, Bradley Bradshaw looks up from his booth and does a double-take at the girl who just walked by. Even in a high-end club full of the well-dressed and well-heeled, people still get starstruck. And why wouldn’t they? You’re about as famous as an iPhone.

His eyes widen and immediately whips out his phone to shoot a text to his oldest and most trusted friend Natasha Trace.

‘Dude, I’m in the club and Y/N just walked in. What do I do??’

Natasha thankfully texts back almost immediately. Then again, maybe being a Communications Director for a major company requires her to be a good texter. ‘Wdym what do you do? Just go talk to her.’

‘You were supposed to introduce us!’ Bradley replies, eyes darting between his phone and you at the bar, conflicted.

Natasha is a mutual friend of yours, too, and when the Bracelet-gate clip went viral, she laughed in his face for a full 5 minutes before deciding to set the two of you up. But the schedule never really aligned, so he hasn’t got a chance to see you. Not even after he went to your concert with a friendship bracelet and a dream.

And now, seeing you here in the same room at the same time as him…

‘What do you want me to do, get down there and do it for you?’

‘...Can you?’

He senses the judgment even as the three dots appear on his screen.

‘Stop being a pussy, Bradshaw. Let me Netflix and chill with my gf in peace.’

Bradley scoffs, half-annoyed and half-fond. ‘Asshole. Have fun.’

The dance floor clears up, just enough to see that you’re right there. Leaning against the bar in your dress like a dirty daydream, talking to the bartender, and he couldn’t just let you go without a word. He thought about it, and he simply couldn’t.

“Oi, where are you off to?” His teammate Martin hollers, while the others watch him make his way to the bar in determined strides.

He squeezes past patrons across this jungle of a club, hoping to God that somebody hasn’t beaten him to talk to you yet, or you haven’t ducked out completely. Oh fuck. You’re still there, though. Good. You’re still at the bar, still glimmering under the mirrorball. Just a tap on the shoulder away. You can do it, Bradshaw…

“Excuse me, I—”

You feel the hand on your shoulder just as you turn and stand up, and in a flurry of miscoordination, looks up just as the other person moves in.

In a stroke of dumb luck, Bradley feels the top of your head slamming up against his nose and he groans in pain. “Ohh!”

“Shit! Oh my God…” you gasp, reaching out to the man in front of you. He’s tall, very tall, and you can’t quite see his face with his massive hand clutching his nose. “I’m so sorry…”

“No, it’s okay. My bad…” It really doesn’t seem like it, so he lets go of his nose and smiles sheepishly. Gosh, he must’ve looked stupid right now.

But you see it differently. What you see is a dashing man in a sleek tieless navy suit and a well-groomed mustache, straight out of a Cinemascope flick, ever so handsome despite his reddened nose from the way you just accidentally headbutted him. “No, that was totally mine. Are you okay?”

Your eyes are crystal clear even in the dim light, the concern is palpable in your gaze—and rightly so. It’s just that he’d take the headbutt any day, if it means he can look at your beautiful face. “I’m… I’m swell. Y/N, right?”

There’s a shift in your gaze. First, alert—you’re assessing how much of a potential threat this person is, whether they’re gonna be weird about you— and then it relaxes. Not a threat. Then a slightest hint of mischief, like she wants to know what kind of dynamics they would have. “Have we met?”

And boy, can he.

“We haven’t, actually. But I went to your show at Wembley earlier this week. You were amazing.” He offers a handshake. “Bradley Bradshaw.”

You didn’t quite catch his name over the blaring music, although you shake his hand anyway. “Sorry?”

He leans into your ear, “I’m Bradley Bradshaw.”

You don’t know which one makes your heart skip, the sudden close proximity, the warmth of his timbre, or the whiff of his perfume.

“Right. Nice to meet you, Bradley Bradshaw.” You accept his handshake, hoping he doesn’t see how flustered you are in the strobing purple light.

“Likewise.” He nods with a smile. “And may I just say… you look stunning.”

“What, this old thing?” You brush down the art nouveau-inspired Balmain dress on your body. You’re just being modest, of course; you know you’re dressed to the nines. You have never been much into facial hair, but somehow that mustache suits him very well. “You don’t look so bad yourself. You remind me of a… young Robert Mitchum. Or Paul Newman— or one of those Golden Age leading men.”

His face lights up. It’s hardly the first time he received that kind of compliment, but when it came from you, it feels… different. It feels special. It makes him just a little bolder. “Yeah? Maybe after a few drinks, I’ll be quoting lines from Butch Cassidy. Or would you prefer Cat On A Hot Tin Roof?”

This piques your interest. A man of culture, it seems. But of course, you can’t be too sure. “I’m more of a Paris Blues kinda gal, I’m afraid.”

Gosh, you don’t swoon so easily and he likes you so much for that. “Makes sense.”

“How so?”

“It’s a good underrated musical movie, for the musically gifted… And Sidney Poitier was just fantastic in that.”

“Huh.” You raise your eyebrows. You honestly thought he was just spouting the famous titles. But the fact that he has likely seen this hidden gem might just mean he’s really into it. “Aren’t you full of surprises.”

He leans in to speak in your ear yet again. “If you stick with me for a bit, I might show you another surprise or two.”

The music drowns out your racing heart just barely, and the bartender places a whole set of tequila shots on the bar top, and it snaps you out of your reverie for a moment.

“Wanna get some air?”

He seems surprised, but of course he wasn’t gonna throw away this shot. “Sure. Why not?”

You instruct the bartender to send the shots to your booth, not even spending ten seconds to ponder staying in this deafening hell hole. Not when this man looks like peace. Perhaps an undercurrent of mystery underneath, but his whole demeanor is as calm and comforting as those old-school movies you put on to fall asleep. At the same time, something about this person pulls you in, it’s almost magnetic, and you can’t help wanting to see this through.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #footballer!bradley #footballer!bradley x popstar!reader #top gun imagine #top gun au #ava writes #fever pitch

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my313 · 3 months

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whipped bf!soobin headcanons 🐰

pairing: soobin x gn!reader

tags/warnings: fluff, non-idol au, established relationship, stuff alluding to marriage

a/n: i was listening to pasilyo - sunkissed lola and was like . soobin would be such a good long term bf slash fiance slash husband 😭 help .. insane ass thought... so now we have long term bf soob :3 enjoy!

bf!soobin thinks you look bewitching everyday, but these days, and especially tonight, you have a flush on your face that makes him want to say all the pretty things you read in romance novels and love songs just for your blushing cheeks to grace his sights once again

bf!soobin, who even after all the years you've been together, still asks bashfully, "will you go on a date with me?" each time he wants to spend time with you outside the comfort of your little apartment

bf!soobin lets you sit in the cushioned booth seat always, without any arguments. though, if it was truly all up to him, he wouldn't have you on the other side of the table because he loves being able to sit beside you; feel the skin of your arm against his as a reminder that you're real, you're here, and importantly, you're his

bf!soobin, who looks at you in a lovestruck gaze as you talk and talk about what happened at the office the other day, or how the commute back home was lonely without him on friday; how you missed having your very own personal pole to hold onto when the metro came to an abrupt stop. anyone can always tell when something concerns you, or relates to you in even the most minuscule of ways, because soobin's eyes soften on default.

bf!soobin can't stop looking at your hands as you sit across from him at a fancy restaurant; the one you wouldn't stop seeing videos about on instagram; the one he called every week since your last anniversary to find a slot to reserve

bf!soobin, who makes do with having to be across from you, by taking out his phone and snapping pictures of you each time the warmly-lit candle on your table hits your face at a different angle; or another snap when you take a sip of water; always reasoning with your protests by saying something silly - something about "what if i get memory loss and forget about us? and then i see this fine ass picture of you drinking water and then boom! i remember- why are you laughing? i'm dead serious, babe."

bf!soobin, still sparing a glance at your hands every now and then, while you twirl pasta around a fork or reach out to hold his hand, thinks of how bare your fingers are. he can't stop thinking about how your ring finger would look absolutely beautiful wrapped by a silver band worth thousands; any gem or stone you want; whatever words engraved - they all allude to something he continues to dream about; to celebrate all the sides of your relationship, himself, and you, for the rest of your lives.

#from.313 #313.softhours #soobin x reader #soobin x you #soobin soft hours #soobin soft thoughts #soobin scenarios #soobin fluff #txt fluff #txt soft thoughts #txt soft hours #txt scenarios #txt x reader #txt imagines #313.soobin

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queerbuckleys · 1 day

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LONG MAY YOU ROAR [bucktommy | soft & gentle | 1k] a/n: hi uhh so this randomly popped into my head, and it's the first time i have ever really written in tommy's pov so it's far from perfect but it doesn't really make sense to tell it from another so i tried something new weee. there's some bonus sweet buckley siblings implications <3 title barely has anything to do with the fic/i do not want to be too sad about it, i just love robin from ttpd and it's about childhood so it fit... well enough. tw for mentions of canonical childhood cancer and death of a child

Tommy stands in his boyfriend’s living room, beer in one hand and he takes in the decor. He’s seen it all before but he's still getting to know the man that’s fussing over dinner in the kitchen. And there is something new, resting on the tv stand, is a photo of a boy riding a bicycle, his back toward the camera. It’s the first time Tommy has noticed it. He had never seen any pictures of a young Evan before, it never struck him as strange, not very many people kept baby pictures around their adult home – that’s why this one felt somewhat strange. There were the photo booth strips, Polaroids, and school pictures of Chris and Jee on the fridge or placed in a drawer around the loft, but no other kids were present in this space. Nothing else is so formal. He figures it has to be Evan, and it was special for some reason. So he picks it up and turns to his boyfriend who is smiling and making his way over to him, finally satisfied with letting the lasagna finish baking.

“Who is this handsome young man?” he asks, a gentle teasing lilt in his voice.

And Evan’s demeanor shifts, he’s still smiling, but it turns sad and bittersweet. His whole body sags ever so slightly. Tommy watches as his Adam's apple bobs, he takes a deep breath with his eyes closed and steps closer. He traces the edge of the frame, his eyes transfixed on the back of the bike. “This is my brother. Daniel.” Evan swallows again.

“You’ve never mentioned…Could he not make it to the wedding?” He asks, but there is a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that tells him that there is more to the story.

“You could say that,” Evan responds with a dry hough of a barely there laugh. “He, he um, he died when I was little. Leukemia. I never really knew him. Our parents–” He shakes his head.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“I want to. It’s just, that I haven’t told the story so far removed from finding out. I told the 118 right away, while I was still numb. And the very messy deep personal feelings version to my therapist, but I’m still working through a lot. So, I don’t know. It might be hard for me to explain it all.”

“Well we can sit down to start,” He says gently with a smile. Taking Evan’s hand, running a soothing thumb over his knuckles. Evan nods and follows his lead to the couch.

“I just, it’s hard to know where to start,” Evan sighs.

“What about why you only now have this picture up?”

Evan smiles a little. “Maddie gave it to me for his birthday last week.” he clears his throat, “So, basically I didn’t even know that I had a brother until just before Jee was born.” Evan looks over at him, trying to gauge his reaction. He lets the words flow over him, and his brow scrunches, tilting his head in confusion.

“My parents kept several secrets from me, forced Maddie to keep them too, for thirty years. They all came to light when I stumbled across that picture in Maddie’s baby box. The past few years since then have been busy, and she found it again after her move and everything and had a copy made for me and had it framed. He has the right for his life to be remembered and celebrated after being a secret for so long.”

“Why was it a secret?” He lets the question slip out, “If you want to share that.”

“Well, um,” Buck ducks his head a little, “Have you ever seen My Sister's Keeper?” he asks, looking back at him with a questioning look on his face. It isn’t what Tommy is expecting in the slightest. But Tommy has seen the movie in question, and the dots slowly begin to connect. And Evan has this look in his eyes that tells him he’s right.

“Oh, Evan.”

“It just never worked for him though. Sometimes I still feel like I failed him somehow.” Evan rolls his bottom lip between his teeth. “I was always treated like a disappointment by my parents and didn’t know why until I was thirty years old, I was never going to be absolved of a sin I didn’t even know I had committed. Maddie though, she raised me. She always treated me like any kid would want to be treated. So, now we celebrate his birthday when we can and Maddie tells me about him. She always comes up with new stuff she remembers after keeping it tucked away for so long. Or how I remind her of him and stuff. It’s good for her to talk about him, and for me to hear it.”

Tommy smiles at him at that, “I have never been under the impression that your relationship with her isn’t very special. Thank you for telling me about this part of your family.”

“Well, you knew most of all the other members of my family before me, as Chimney likes to remind me.” Evan laughs and relaxes back into his arms, tucking his face into Tommy’s neck. “Thank you for listening.” he runs his fingers over his hands, “I wanted to tell you. I just never knew how to bring it up, or what base talking about a dead brother was.” He can feel Evan’s small smile against his neck, and he laughs gently too.

“Someday soon I’ll tell you about my family too.” He twists his fingers in Evan’s curls.

“Whenever you are ready. I’ll wait.” Evan places a light kiss on his jaw.

The oven beeps declaring the lasagna to be finished and Evan groans, ungluing himself from his side. Once Evan is back in the kitchen, Tommy lifts the photo up again from the coffee table and gently returns it to its home.

#evan buckley #tommy kinard #911fic #bucktommy #911 #*aj writes stuff

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 8 months

Note

I have request for Spencer Reid x Plus size fem!reader. Maybe her and Spencer are good friends and she gets stood up on a date or her date leaves after seeing her and Spencer swoops in and love confession.

p.s I love you work. <3

༉‧₊˚. 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

― pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

― summary: admitting that you got stood up on a date would be like admitting defeat, too bad spencer's too good of a best friend to let you go through this alone, even if he was the last person you wanted to see.

― warnings: best friends to lovers, getting stood up on dates, a red flag named chris (sorry to all the chris' out there), mutual pining, requited love, love confessions, and implied dates!

― wc: 1457

⋆ a/n: OH, MY GOODNESS IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE WRITTEN AN ACTUAL ONESHOT. i got hit with a random bout of inspiration out of nowhere and i have a bunch of fanfics that already have banners made but they're unwritten and rotting in my drafts so i'm trying to clean them out first. thank you for this and i hope you enjoy some best friend!spencer reid!!

masterlist | AO3

Leave it up to you to be stood up on a date you didn’t even want to go on.

You were even looking for anything with anything else, you just needed a distraction, you needed anything that would help you move on from him. It wasn’t Spencer’s fault that you were in love with him – well, it actually kind of is – but that’s beside the point.

There was no way you could continue to sit there and allow yourself to wallow in self-pity over the fact that your feelings for your longtime best friend weren’t reciprocated. You were a grown woman for God’s sakes! And as a grown woman, it was up to you to make grown up decisions. One phone call to Derek was all it took for you to get hooked up with some dude that he knew.

“He’s a good guy,” He said.

Yeah, right. Good guy your ass.

Not only did you look stupid, but you were left stranded in a sports bar surrounded by a bunch of strangers – no, scratch that! Almost all of the patrons in this bar tonight were men, it was football season. You were practically asking to get murdered! What kind of FBI agent would you be if you allowed yourself to be murdered over the fact that some guy’s team lost.

With a sigh, you gazed at your chat between Chris and you. You had sent him a text thirty minutes ago asking where he was when he was ten minutes late, but even that message had been left unread.

The only reason why you were still here was because you were oh so painfully embarrassed, and you hoped that others around you couldn’t tell that there was supposed to be a second person joining you at your very barren booth that you had somehow managed to score.

Now that you think about it, how in the hell had you allowed this man to talk you into going to a sports bar instead of oh, I don’t know, a restraunt with a calm, and comfortable atmosphere?

Maybe it was the fact that the only person’s face you could see in your mind as you discussed where you were going to go together was Spencer’s. As ashamed as you were to admit, you mostly imagined a disappointed look on his face when he realized you were going out with someone else, but even you knew that was damn near impossible.

It wasn’t your failed date that was the shit show – even though it is a close second – it was you that was the main attraction. How could you have allowed yourself to be this childish? You weren’t in high school anymore, and you hadn’t been in some years, but old habits die hard, you guess?

It didn’t have to be common knowledge to tell that your romantic life when you were in school was very, very sad. You often found yourself alone on most weekends, ample amount of time to study right under your fingertips. You figured that when you had gotten older things would have gotten better but… nope.

You didn’t know who to call.

Would you call Derek and blame him? No, he couldn’t have known, but you could totally get him to beat Chris’ ass. The thought of your favorite and very muscular chocolate thunder roughing the piece of shit up helped to easy your nerves, badly enough. There was just one person you couldn’t bring yourself to call, and that was Spencer.

Calling Spencer meant that you were giving up, that you were waving the white flag, that you were still in love with him and no number of blind dates, good or bad, could change that.

You bit the inside of your cheek in thought, at least you had dressed up in something comfortable.

“Can I sit here?” You heard someone ask over the bustling noise of the bar.

“Honestly, you can just have the thi–” You spoke without looking up, but when you did, your words died in your throat.

There Spencer stood in his full glory; tall, lanky, nerdy, and extremely uncomfortable, but nonetheless, he slid into the sticky seat across from you with an awkward smile.

“Spence? What are you doing here?” You asked in shock, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I uh- Morgan called me. He said that Chris told him to tell you something came up, but I uh- I figured that wasn’t true.” He explained sympathetically. You scoffed, your body slouching along with the noise. “Yeah, no shit.” Your words were bitter and harsh, which caused you to squeeze your eyes shut.

“Fuck, Spence. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to talk to you like that, I’m just… frustrated.”

He reached out his hand, albeit reluctantly seeing as though the table was in the same state as the seat, maybe even a bit worse. You looked down at it then at him before relenting, your full hand slipping into his lithe one perfectly, as if it belonged there.

The fact that this felt so right made your stomach twist sickeningly, fingerings twitching in desperation to pull away. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to stay. You did not have the mental compacity to dig yourself out of another hole.

“No, it’s okay. I understand.” He reassured, his thumb caressing the back of your knuckles gently. “I came as soon as he called,” He then looked around, “Especially after he told me where you were.” You laughed a bit at his concern, your body feeling lighter as it finally straightened.

A soft grin graced your features.

“Thank you, Spence. Really. I know how uncomfortable these kinds of places make you. I just- I really thought tonight was going to go differently.” I thought that things between us were going to go differently, is what you really meant.

“I’m sorry, I know you liked him.”

You grimaced at the word ‘liked.’

“I think ‘liked’ would be the last word I would use to describe how I feel for Chris.”

It was his turn for his eyebrows to furrow. “What do you mean.”

You huffed. “What I meant was that I didn’t even want to go on this stupid fucking date anyways, but I had too… I had too…” You allowed your words to trail off when you had caught yourself about to admit something you had fought years to keep under wraps.

“You had to what?”

Goddamn him and his never-ending curiosity.

“Just leave it alone, please?” You pleaded. You looked up at him from beneath your eyelashes, your gaze soft and vulnerable. “Okay.”

A silence – what was an equivalent to silence – settled over the both of you. The air was thick with unspoken words and feelings, an invisible line was drawn that the two of you were too scared to cross.

“I would’ve never stood you up, you know.” Spencer piped up quietly, his grip that had gone limp in yours tightening. “What?” Your breath hitched. “And I would’ve taken you to someplace nicer than this.” His voice was shaky and forceful, as if he was forcing himself speak in fear that if he didn’t, he wouldn’t say anything at all.

“What are you saying?” You were breathless, the butterflies that fluttered around in your gut making you nauseous. Hope bloomed at a dangerous rate in your chest.

“What I’m saying is that if I were to take you out on a date, it would be a lot better than this.” He had finally gotten the courage to raise his gaze instead of focusing on where your hands were interlaced. “I would take you anywhere you wanted to go, then I would try my best to make it memorable for you because I…” He gulped. “Because I love you.”

Your ears were ringing. There was sweat beginning to form on your hairline.

“You’re being serious?” The question sounded more like a plea. “Because if you’re saying this because you feel bad, I-” He cut you off. “I don’t feel bad.” He lowered his head to where yours was in an attempt to connect your gazes deeper.

“I really do love you. I- I have for a long time.” Spencer confessed.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.” You said through a wobbly smile. His smile matched yours. You could feel the fact that both of your hands were extremely clammy with nerves, but none of you could find it within yourself to care.

“Can I cash in that date now?”

“Now?” He asked incredulously, lifting his free arm to check the time on his wrist. “It’s pretty late.”

You gave his hand a squeeze.

“I’m pretty sure we can figure that out.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @zippertwat @alixwriter

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