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sheisjoeschateau · 4 months

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"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART I

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

WHEN THE UNEXPECTED NIECE OF MURRAY BAUMAN GETS THROWN IN THE MIX, THE GANG HAS NO IDEA JUST WHAT THEY'RE IN FOR. SCRATCH THAT - STEVE DOESN'T KNOW. YOU GET ALONG WITH EVERYONE WELL. YOU BANTER WITH THE ADULTS, WHO APPRECIATE YOUR HELP. THE KIDS LOVE AND WORSHIP YOU. YOU'RE HELPFUL ALL AROUND. BUT AS FAR AS STEVE IS CONCERNED, YOU'RE JUST NUISANCE. AFTER ALL, YOU'RE THE REASON HE LOST THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE AND MISSED OUT ON A LIFE THAT "COULD'VE BEEN." IF YOU HAD JUST KEPT YOUR SORRY ASS OUT OF THE PICTURE... IF YOU HAD NEVER GONE WITH NANCY AND JONATHAN AFTER THEY LEFT YOUR WHACK-JOB UNCLE, MURRAY BAUMAN'S, BUNKER? HE WOULD BE HAPPY. SO F*CKING HAPPY. BUT HERE YOU WERE. YOU WERE BASICALLY THE COOLER (...AND SURE, MUCH MORE ATTRACTIVE) FEMALE VERSION OF MURRAY BAUMAN. YOU WERE SARCASTIC, QUICK-WITTED, TOO SMART FOR YOUR OWN GOOD, AND APPARENTLY BUILT FOR THE WAR. SURE, YOU WEREN'T AS BRASH AS YOUR UNCLE. BUT IN STEVE'S EYES, YOU WERE SOMEHOW FAR MORE OBNOXIOUS. HE DOWNRIGHT HATED YOU. HE WILL FOREVER HATE YOU... BUT WILL HE?

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE COPIED AND/OR REPOSTED ON HERE OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR PUT INTO ANY AI PROGRAMS. THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MDNI.

An original fanfiction series, written by Misha St. James.

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

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I did not proof-read this after Tumblr gave me hell trying to share. So pls excuse possible typos. hehe

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Let's just get to the point, shall we?

Once upon a time, a young boy named Will Byers went missing. Later, he was found in an alternate dimension by the world's #1 mom and a cynical cop turned hero. A girl with a shaved head had telekinetic superpowers, befriend's Will's four loyal friends along the way and helping them track down their missing party member. Then, whatever the hell was on the other side - whatever was in this...upside down...took back Eleven. She'd been missing ever since that dreadful winter.

Fast forward to now: you're sitting in your uncle's bunker, looking at his wild display of efforts. Papers, files, whiteboards covered in multiple words, arrows, sketches - all in different colored markers. Murray Bauman was on a mission, and he would be damned if that grumpy, cynical smart-ass known as Jim Hopper honestly thought that he could dismantle his efforts. Nice try, chum. Game on. Thankfully, you'd gone to school with Barbara Holland. That's whose parents had assigned the task of searching for her to your uncle. Murray was asking you tons of questions, and you were glad to help. It meant spending time with the only family member you cared for, despite his wackiness. You guys got each other. Bantered well. Got shit done. Honestly, it was also a great way of drinking safely and not with a bunch of rowdy teenagers at some stupid party. You got along just fine with everyone at school. But damn, they could all be annoying. ...especially Steve fucking Harrington, who was now the topic of conversation. You know, given that his house is where Barbara was last seen. "It just isn't making sense," your uncle huffed, raking his hands through his oily dark hair. You sipped on the glass of vodka that your uncle had poured you, hissing at the strong taste. Leaning across the coffee table, seated on his couch, you tried to connect the dots with him. "I'm telling you, someone in that group of teens knows what's up. Or at least has an idea." Your uncle swigged at his vodka, defeated but ruthlessly trying to piece together his clusterfuck of scattered evidence across his wall. "Well then, guess we better grill 'em."

And that's how you come into the picture. When Nancy and Jonathan came to seek out Murray. And when they arrive, they're surprised to see you. They recognize you from school. Jonathan took several classes with you. In fact, the two of you got along well at Hawkins High. No, you weren't close. But you both were cool. Nancy, on the other hand, didn't know anything about you. Just that you took political science with Barbara, and got straight A's across the board. You could've been class valedictorian. But you were not looking for any sort of title that demanded pressure or attention. At least not in high school. Career wise? Sure. Not here, though. Not Hawkins. "Your timeline is wrong," Nancy is saying, making you and Bauman freeze. Nancy is telling you that the girl with the buzzed hair is not Russian. She is, in fact, from Hawkins lab. And her name is...Eleven? So they do know something. And something turns out to be everything.

Jonathan sits you both down to relay everything to you both. And woof, does it give you guys a headache. Strangely, though... it makes a whole lot more sense than some mundane explanation of sorts. Obviously though, that puts you all in a tough spot where you'll all need to put your heads together. So the two classmates of yours stay, sharing in chilled Smirnoff and having to endure the hilarity that ensues between you and your uncle. You and Murray both banter well with the two of them. Jonathan finds you to be hilarious. Nancy finds you intimidating. Very intimidating. You’re quick witted, darkly humored and independent. But there is a reserved, mysterious sort of feminine energy to you, despite your more masculine strengths and bluntness. Over glasses of stiff vodka, you all come to the conclusion on how to go about exposing the truth about Barbara Holland's disappearance: water it down.

At the end of the night, you're all winding down -- you and your uncle having convinced the two lovebirds to stay. But when you're telling them they can take your uncle's guest room while you take the couch, Jonathan's asking if he can take the couch. You blink. Huh? ...surely Nancy is not still with --

"Okay, I'm confused," your uncle's saying. "What's going on here? Lovers quarrel?"

You cock an eyebrow, leaning back into the loveseat.

But Jonathan and Nancy are then talking over each other with weird, flustered excuses...saying they're just friends.

You and your uncle bust out laughing. And then you're shrinking back in your seat, knowing what's coming: one of your Uncle Murray's lovebird witchdoctor speeches that he barrels into anytime that two delusional people have convinced themselves that they aren't in love. Or at the very least, not into each other.

Uncle Murray is breaking them down, one at a time. He's reading Jonathan like an angsty teen novel, seeing right through him and his brooding, mysterious energy. Trust issues, thanks to daddy issues. Yikes, that makes you sip some more drink.

And then he's onto Nancy, saying that she's harder to read. But he manages anyway. It's the Bauman way.

He's telling her that she's likely like everyone else, "afraid of what would happen if you accepted yourself for you who you really are." He looks at you. "Am I in the right ballpark?"

You nod, swallowing the last drop of vodka in your cup. "That...and afraid of that might happen if she didn't retreat back to the safety of someone familiar."

Nancy looks bewildered. But more than that, she looks caught.

"Name?" your uncle is prodding, snapping his fingers. "Name."

You and Jonathan both say it. "Steve."

Uncle Murray's face is priceless. He feigns adoration, putting on a baby voice as he repeats the name. "Dawh. Steve. We like Steve."

"Yes," Nancy laughs nervously. Eek, you think.

"But we don't love Steve..." Your uncle's words floor Nancy.

And when Nancy's saying something about still being with Steve, insisting that she loves him, you roll your eyes. Even scoffing, getting her attention. Maybe if the vodka weren't in your system, you wouldn't be so bold. But Jonathan's mopey look just gives you more confidence.

"Boom, ladies and gents," you say with a grin. "Second lie of the evening." "The hell was the first one?" Jonathan asks, blinking. "You guys being just friends." You and your uncle say something along the same lines, simultaneously. You both laugh together, clinking glasses. The two not lovebirds just squirm awkwardly in their seats. Finally, you sigh. "Look. You guys don't wanna give up the ghost? Be my guest. I'll happily keep my bed." You stand up, ready to turn in. But not until casting them one last work, pointing a finger. "But if I were you two? I'd cut the bullshit and just share the damn bed." Murray snorts, rising to stand as well. He stretches. "Welllllp. I'm turning in for the night." You begin mounting the stairs, hollering: "Better act fast, kiddos. At least before this poison in my system knocks me out cold. Don't worry, Nancy, I don't snore. So if you do choose me, you're safe." "But that's so lame," Murray adds to that wryly, heading off to his room. You both tell each other goodnight, leaving the two angsty teens to decide their fate. All you know is that Nancy ends up walking out and not coming back, at one point in the night. Yeah, thought so. Breakfast the next morning is even more hilarious. You and your uncle ask every single question that drips with innuendo that you ever possibly could. And it's worth every fucking minute.

Murray's gonna need to keep that couch cleaned. To your surprise, Murray sends you off with Nancy and Jonathan, but given that you want to go and see it all for yourself you don't mind. You’re basically his little spy. Most uncles send off their nieces and nephews with some good advice, maybe a packed lunchbox or snacks, and a warm hug.

Yours, however, sends you off with a full bottle of vodka, a thick wad of cash and some fun sarcastic banter. But he headlocks you in for a hug, and you cackle. He really is a nutcase, and man you can't help but love him. He is so not the parental type. Yet somehow, he's practically raised you. And in your opinion, you're pretty well-prepared for the world. More than most, in Murray's opinion. So off you go with Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Buyers, and they both honestly enjoy your company. It helps them get past their umm...well...awkward new reality. That new reality that comes post-sex, after a long ass time of playing the tip-toe game. The sexual tension between them is hysterical to you. But you keep your thoughts to yourself for now. The vodka did most of the talking for you last night.

When you both arrive at wherever the hell your destination is, it's dark outside. And if you're being honest, it's pretty creepy. You're somewhere near the woods, and as you all walk closer you're beginning to see lights approaching you...along with a handful of shadowed figures.

Fuck, you literally just got here.

But then, after a tense several moments... Nancy and Jonathan call out to them. You jump, startled at the fact that they do it so confidently. But the name that they call out suddenly makes it all make sense. "STEVE?" "NANCY...?" And that's how you became a crucial part of the most royal pain in the ass, King Steve's, life.

#steve harrington angst #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington smut

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kingtomura · 4 months

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Good Girl

Summary: It’s not your fault that your boyfriend was hard for people to warm up to. God, your parents are so lame. But so were you. So you did what anyone else with strict parents would, and you cut him off.

Bad idea.

Word count: 4k

part two is here!

Content: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader, explicit content, kinda quiet sex, cunnilingus, praise, slight humiliation, unprotected sex, strict parents, toxic relationship with parents, AU - no quirks, no use of y/n, gets a little mushy at the end im sorry

You would rather be anywhere else but here. You would pay to be anywhere else but right here, right now being scolded like some teenager who had been caught sneaking out after curfew. But you were here and you weren’t going anywhere any time soon.

“He’s just not good for you,” your father’s voice stressed. It dragged on, pulling you from your drifting thoughts. “You have so much ahead of you and we even agreed to this gap year so that you could figure out what you wanted to do, not so you could run around with some delinquent boy with no future–”

“He‘s not a delinquent,” You cut off, “you’re judging him without even giving him a chance.”

Your father sighs, knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, but knowing you inherited his stubbornness has never detoured him from taking your objections head on. He’s been on this earth longer than you, butting heads with others longer than you have. “Well, whatever he is, he’s not allowed to see you again. That’s final.” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. False air of nonchalance sending fury through your veins.

There would be no more arguing and you knew it. You desperately look to your mother, who is in her usual stance of resignation and uselessness when it comes to his word. If she saw things your way, she would never say. And even if she agreed with you, there would be no change. It has always been your father’s way or no way.

“I’m an adult, you can't tell me who I can and can’t see.” you try once more, not ready to end things here. It’s suffocating.

He scoffs, bringing a hand up to count his fingers, “You live under our roof, you eat our food, you drive our car, you give me attitude when I agree to give you time to figure out your life when you decided to leave university after two semesters,” his voice is rising and you begin to feel your eyes burn with the threat of tears, your chest tightening as its harder to catch a breath. You can’t cry here, it would only make things worse. “I don’t think it matters how old you are. I am done with this conversation. End things with him now or you won't have a pot to piss in by the end of the day.”

This cannot be happening. You're still sat on the plush sofa of the living room as your father stalks off with your mother in tow. The latter only glancing back with an empty look of pity as you stare at where your father had just been. Words burned into your mind while hot tears finally break and run down your cheeks. This is really happening.

And Tomura was going to be upset.

In a perfect world you could meet up with him tonight, talk it over, or even run away together and leave all this behind, but you know better. You know the two of you haven’t dated long enough to warrant running away together, but it still crosses your mind. You’ve never felt this way about anyone before and it's painful to think you never will again. Tomura just made you feel so.. Alive. There was so much to him and his witty dry humor that keeps pulling you in.

He’s cynical, he’s moody and sometimes he’s mean but god he could be so soft. Touch you in ways that felt like he reached your soul. Quiet nights where you would stay at his house and watch him play video games would turn into late night sessions of making love until the twilight of dawn peeked through the dark curtains of his room. There was no way you could let him go. But you had to. You had to. Your father had given you no other choice. So you take the coward’s way out.

You text him.

You send him a short text that would send you to the bathroom dry heaving, but you didn’t know what else to do. What more could you say other than your father had snapped at you and you both could no longer be together. It would hurt so much more facing him head on. You knew that if you had to speak to him face to face that you would crack, probably throw out your silly idea of running away together and then face the awkward rejection. This was all you could manage. You felt awful for it, finally forcing yourself off of the floor and dragging your feet to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

It had been hours and there was no response from Tomura. You couldn't blame him. What could anyone say to a break up text? You hollowly hoped he would fight for you. Even a little. But the flat Read 14:57 showed you otherwise. This had now become a heartbreak you werent quite expecting. You couldn’t help but second guess every interaction you had with him before. If maybe you read into things a little too deeply. If maybe, some smaller, quieter part of you dreaded your father was right.

There was no use of dwelling on that now. No point in running through what you would never know. So, you sighed, and finished up in the bathroom. Slipping on your silk sleeping gown that stopped above your knees and adjusted the small straps on your shoulder. You had cried for hours after your argument – if you could even call it that– with your father was over and your face ached. The bags under your eyes showing the worse for wear state you had found yourself in. it would be okay, you told yourself. You just have to sleep it off.

And that was your plan and you slid into your welcoming bed, soft comforter embracing you and your worn feelings. You feel more tears begin to sting behind your eyelids before there's a sudden tap at your window.

A trick of the wind, you decide and return to your somber thoughts.

You would have to move on eventually, but tonight? He was the only thing on your mind. His eyes, his hair, the way he would feign annoyance when you were overly touchy, craving closer contact. He always indulged you. Always gave you more, you knew he liked it as much as you did. You were lovesick.

Tap.

There was that noise again. Louder than before as if someone had thrown a rock right at your window. The room was still and quiet so you knew it hadn’t been your imagination.

Jumping to your feet and shuffling towards the window in question you brushed your curtains to the side to see the possible culprit. And when you do, your heart drops and instant regret fills you. Stomach aching as you take in the sight before you.

It’s Tomura Shigaraki and he is pissed.

Tomura, your Tomura leering up at you with another rock resting in his hand, bigger and ready to be tossed at your window if the last attempt didn’t work.

You look around, knowing no one is in your bedroom but yourself and the moonlight, then go to open your window, ducking your head out to get a better look at him. There he was, black hoodie oversized and so soft, red eyes burning in anger but you aren't scared. You’re relieved, it's him. He's here to see you, mouth turned down in a scowl and fists clenched in fury but he was here.

You couldn’t stop your hushed whisper, “what are you doing here?”

“I came to talk.” Was his only reply before he dropped the rock and walked towards your window. It wasn’t terribly high up, but higher than he could reach without a bit of help from you.

Now that he was closer you could see the anger in his posture much more clearly. All tense shoulders and narrowed eyes. It was enough to make your stomach turn. You couldn't help but worry your bottom lip as he pulled out his phone and took a step closer.

“Really? Over a fucking text message?” He hissed, rasp in his voice, uncaring of the time of night or who could hear.

“Tomura, shh, please–” you tried, hands coming up to placate him, if only a little. Your father would have your head if he heard another man in his home, let alone Tomura Shigaraki.

He huffed a sarcastic laugh, disbelief taking over his features, but he obliged, “I don’t care what your father told you. He can’t control who you talk to.”

You shake your head, the all too familiar sting of tears in your eyes threatening to fall, “I know. I told him that, but he threatened to kick me out, to cut me off. I’m sorry Tomura, but I can't.”

“He can't do that.”

You nod, knowing all too well that your father would go through with his threat. “He can. Technically. I'm an adult, so it’s his choice.” The tears fall now, seeing the rage dissipate from Tomura, slight drop of his shoulders showing disbelief and disappointment. It's too much. This is why you didn’t want to see him, couldn’t face him. “I'm so sorry,” you whisper, trying to hold in the sobs threatening to wrack your body and possibly wake your parents up. This could not have ended worse. “I don't want it to be this way.”

“Wow, I didn't know you were such a good girl.”

Your breath hitches, caught off guard, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “I didn't know you did everything daddy says. What a good girl you are.” The tone is one you’re familiar with. Condescending. Challenging. He’s testing you.

Your cheeks flushed. What could you say? That you’re not a good girl, actually. Then what would that make you? A bad girl? You would walk right into his trap. He’s watching, waiting for a response. Something to make you slip up.

You don't have the chance to respond before he’s taking a step forward, lifting your chin with a finger so that you could look him in the eyes. Even in the dim lighting of the room those crimson eyes looked into your own. Like he was delving deeper, looking for the response that you can't seem to give him. Nothing else matters in this moment. It’s just him and you and the pale moonlight dancing between you. The air is tense and unmoving, like the smallest noise, the faintest blow of wind would ruin this moment.

You couldn’t take it, couldn’t wait another minute before your body moved, leaning forwards onto the tips of your toes to give you more leverage as your lips pressed to his. His lips were still cold and dry from the cool air outside but that didn’t matter. Nothing matters more than knowing you needed more of him and you needed it now. Tomura’s hand came to rest at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer and the kiss deeper. Taking all of you in as his other hand gripped your waist.

Your hands wasted no time burying into his hoodie – so soft and worn– the faint smell of citrus and cedar being a comfort as the intoxicating kiss deepened. Tomura wasted no time, slick tongue entering your mouth, hungry, like it was the last time you would have him this way. It was too much. It was not enough. You broke the kiss, a string of saliva following the short distance you put in between. Air seemed sparse, like you couldn't get enough and Tomura spoke before you could.

“Get on the bed.”

And you did, newfound vigor in your step as you eagerly did as what you were told. Energy ebbing through your veins as excitement overtook your previous anxiety. Tomura was a mere step behind, discarding his hoodie without care and joining you on the bed, caging you beneath him as he dove back in for another kiss, wet and warm, before trailing lower. Open mouthed kisses to your jaw, then neck, his hands, rough and warm gripping your thighs, taking in all he can. After leaving a particularly hard bite on your neck, Tomura lifted your gown up, smooth silk gliding with ease above your ass and resting below your breast. It was only natural for your legs to spread for him, cool air on your bare cunt making you shiver.

“Oh?” An amused huff from the man above you makes your cheeks heat further than before. He’s seen you like this many times before, but he’s always had a way of making you feel shy. “No panties, huh?”

You push past your embarrassment. “You know i dont wear them to b– ah!” you're cut off by the feeling of his finger sliding between your folds, slick making it glide, and rubbing over your clit. The surprise of the motion makes you press your thighs closer together. Tomura grins above you, before bringing his wet finger to his mouth, a mocking shh following the motion, tongue flicking out and licking the digit as his other hand pushed your legs apart again.

He bends down, bulge in his sweatpants pressing against your bare cunt. He’s so hard and that thought only makes you wetter. Tomura’s nose brushes yours, your eyelids fluttering shut as he dives to kiss you again. All open mouthed and wet. You could taste yourself on his tongue as well as feel the pressure of his clothed erection grind against you, rubbing against your bundle of nerves. You are sure your slick is dampening his sweatpants but Tomura doesn’t care. He’s grinding you into the mattress and you’re so close to begging him to get on with it you want to scream. But almost like he’s read your mind, he pulls away.

The kisses he places along your body set your nerves on fire, anticipation eating away at your patience as he takes his time. Once he’s reached his destination, right between your thighs, he places one wet kiss onto the plush of your inner right thigh. Another teasing move. Another way to make you squirm in excitement. He looks up at you, ruby eyes gleaming in the moonlight of the room.

“Be quiet for me, yeah?”

Tomura huffs a laugh at your eager nod, grin growing wider. So quick to please. Dedicated. “Good girl.”

The praise makes you falter for a second, embarrassment threatening to make its way to the surface once more. There was no time for it now, Tomura enjoyed catching you off guard. Loved surprises. He wastes no more time, tongue licking a wet strip between your lips. The action causing you to moan louder than you intended. Your hand rushes to cover your mouth. If you were to be caught in this predicament by either of your parents it would be horrendous for the both of you.

This doesn’t stop Tomura, though. If anything you were starting to think it encouraged him, because his relentless pace on your cunt was driving you wild. His long stripes simmered into just the tip of his tongue flicking your clit and sending jolts of pleasure roaring through you. You were already close, pleasure and pressure building and building until you were so close to tipping over–

Knock knock.

“Hey sweetie. I know it's late, I just wanted to talk for a second.”

It was your mom. Holy shit it was your mom and there's a boy in your bed with his head buried between your legs and holy shit. If she opened the door, if she barged into your room in the familiar way she always had a bad habit of doing, you would be done for. With wide eyes and accelerated breaths, you clamped down harder over your mouth with both hands. Even Tomura stopped in his tracks, gaze lazily focused on the door with curiosity bleeding into his indifference.

Your mother must have taken the silence as a sign of slumber, yet she continued. Voice muffled by the door between you both.

“Your father... was harsh today. And I’m sorry for that.” She pauses, long enough for you to believe she would be giving up and going back to her bedroom. You aren't so lucky, surely at this point you were very unlucky and you dreaded whatever else she had to say. “I just want you to know that he just wants the best for you.” your heart drops as she carries on, unaware and unconcerned of the other pair of ears listening in to her words. “We don’t know him that well. We can't risk you getting involved in something you're not ready for and throwing your future away.”

At this, Tomura rolls his eyes, interest clearly lost and goes back to his earlier movements. The sloppy kiss to your clit catches you off guard and forces a whine out of you. It was small, but still a noise. Squeezing your eyes shut you prayed this would be written off as an odd sleep noise. Wishing to the sky that it wasn't noticeable and Tomura would stop. He didn’t. It was in that moment he decided pressing a finger against your entrance would bring out more noises. The digit slipping in with minimal effort and adding more pleasure to this mix as he sucked your clit.

If your mother heard anything, she didn't make it known. The floorboards outside of your door creaking with the shifting of her weight. “Well, maybe we can get ice cream or something tomorrow. Have a little girl’s day?” The silence is palpable as she waits for an answer that won't come. “Okay well, goodnight sweetie. See you in the morning.”

You don’t know what you're more grateful for; the sound of her receding steps or that fact that Tomura wasn't cruel and waited until the telltale sound of a door opening and closing rang through the air before adding another finger and curling them. This time you couldn’t bite back the moan that escaped you, hands gripping the cotton of your duvet.

“Aw, how sweet,” Tomura started, sitting up while adding a thumb to your sensitive nub and rubbing slow circles to replace his mouth. “She wants to have a little girls’ day with you.”

His mocking tone would have gotten a reaction out of you any other time, but right now you were so close. On the precipice of an orgasm that’s been drawn out for far too long. You could only look at him with half lidded eyes as his fingers worked like magic sending you closer and closer, your breath hitching as you finally, finally reached the climax. Body shaking pleasure cascades over you like a tidal wave.

“There we go,” Tomura whispers, giving your cunt a playful tap after letting you ride the sensation out. He pulls away completely to take off his sweatpants and underwear, cock already hard and leaking. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips at the sight and you hear his breathless chuckle. “I’ll let you have a taste next time, but right now, I can't wait any longer.”

It was only when he began to line up with your entrance that you absently wondered about the lack of condoms you owned. You look up at him, question burning on your tongue but he only grins at you, and you swore in that moment he was a mind reader. “I didn’t bring any with me, sorry,” his voice was far from apologetic as he stroked his cock, rubbing the head between your folds and against your clit, slick soaking the head. “But don't worry,” he continued, leaning forward and you felt the pressure at your entrance, excitement buzzing through your veins. “I’ll pull out.”

Whether you believed him or not didn’t matter, you had no time to process a thought as he began stretching you to the limit with his size. A gasp escaped your parted lips as the sickeningly sweet feeling of being stretched too far too fast took over. He gave you a minute to adjust, even as his cock twitched in anticipation of movement. The grip he had on your hips was tight enough to bruise and you knew it was taking a lot of his self control to wait for you.

He pressed on, figuring it had been long enough and bottomed out with a sigh. Your walls clenched around him and swore you could cum from the stretch alone. After giving you a second to breathe he pulled back, almost pulling out, only to snap his hips back forward into you. Your head lolled onto the pillow, hand coming up once more to mute the moans dragging from your body. Tomura hoists your legs onto each side of his shoulders,bending them forward and successfully folding you like a lawn chair as he started his aggressive pace, forcing your tight heat to clench around his cock.

“Oh, fuck…” you couldn’t help but mutter as you struggled to hold off your already approaching orgasm.

Tomura saw this as a challenge. “What? You gonna cum on my cock?” he mocked, pace wild and rough, leaving you gasping as you shut your eyes, not ready to admit how right he was. “It's okay,” he continued, leaning closer and allowing his dick to press deeper inside you. The drag hitting the bundle of nerves inside and nearly sending you over the edge. “Come on, cum on my cock like the good girl you are.”

Those words push you over, hips convulsing as your legs shake and it takes Tomura slapping a hand over your mouth this time to quiet you. You couldn’t focus on anything else, let alone keeping quiet. Your body felt light and Tomura fucked you through it. His pace grew more erratic as his grinning face became one of focus, brows furrowing as his eyes shut and he focused on his pleasure. Your pussy squeezing around him making it harder for him to stave off his own nearing climax. You were worried that at this point you were both too far gone. The silence of the home would leave the messy noises between you both loud and clear for the entire house to hear. Tomura was great at keeping his composure but the soft groans coming from your lover only showed how much he was losing his grip.

“Can’t– fuck, sorry–” you didn’t have time to decipher his strange words, your curious eyes meeting his face to gauge his expression before you feel it.

His cock twitches inside you, seed painting your insides white as his thrusts didn't slow. He was hammering away at your insides, only pumping his cum further into you. You feel so full, the warmth spreading over your body like a blanket. He came in you. Even though he said he wouldn’t, he did. The worst part about it? You don’t care. It's invigorating. You feel even more attached to him. Even closer. You want more.

Overstimulated and weak, you whimpered, thoughts swimming as Tomura finally came down from high. Slowing his thrusts and panting heavily. Your heart is drumming against your chest as he removes your sore legs from his shoulders. Shuddering as he slips out of your tight heat, feeling the cum dripping out of you and onto your sheets.

The bed dipped as he took his place next to you. Out of breath and eyes focused on the ceiling. Your ears were ringing with the sudden quietness of it all. Things felt different, heavy.

“You could always just not tell them.” It was Tomura who broke the silence first. “Act sad, mope around, and then come see me at night.”

You glanced over, vaguely registering the sweat cooling on your body. You would need to get up and get cleaned up soon. “Yeah, but if they catch me–”

“They won't. I’ll teach you how.” he turns towards you, bringing a hand to your chin to make you face him. There’s a fuzzy feeling turning in your chest and the familiarity of heat rising to your cheeks is starting to drive you mad. His grin is enamoring, red eyes almost glowing with mischief in the moonlight. “I’ll show you the ropes.”

There's an ache that tugs at your chest as you nod. “Okay.”

You are so fucked.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my works #tomura shiragaki #tomura x reader #mha tomura #shigaraki smut #fanfic #my hero academia

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lovebugism · 8 months

Note

Spoooooky request, what if the gang went to a haunted house and everyone made fun of reader for being scared, but Steve holds her hand and walks with her 👻

thanks for requesting angel! i switched it up a bit and did a sort of second part to this fic! you def don't have to read it but it'll give some context :D — you're still getting used to the world post-vecna, but it's easier with steve holding your hand

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

The haunted house off Fifth Street looks strangely familiar. Two stories, faded cornflower paint job, boarded up windows. It looks like a dollhouse from hell. It looks like the goddamn Creel House. It’s like some kind of sick joke.

It didn’t take Hawkins very long to recover from last spring. Mostly because it was just an earthquake to everyone else. No one died, nothing was ruined beyond repair. To the rest of the town, it was just a minor natural disaster — an inconvenience more than anything.

No one knows that a thirteen-year-old girl killed the monster trying to end the world. No one knows that the local freak nearly died saving a bunch of teenagers. No one knows that one song, one heavy metal guitar, and one good memory just narrowly saved your life.

It’s secrets all of you are gonna have to keep for the rest of your lives. It weighs you down accordingly.

“Am I crazy, or is that…?” Robin trails off, freckled chin tilted towards the velvet blue sky as she gapes at the artificially rotted house. It glows a sickly green color on the outside. The windows light up red every now and then, in time with the screams echoing from the upper story.

“Yeah,” Nancy answers, breathless and equally dumbfounded. “I think it is.”

A beat of silence falls over the group of you. It doesn’t feel so heavy with the surrounding chatter. The crowd continues to bustle around you on the street, falling over themselves with laughter and lingering fright. They have no idea the ghost story they grew up with nearly destroyed the world.

The bitter realization makes your chest ache. Steve seemingly understands this and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. You wonder if he can feel the way you tremble.

Eddie scoffs a cynical laugh from the other side of you. A pink, sadistic grin tugs at his lips, almost as wild as his curls billowing in the autumn breeze. “It’s basically kismet then, huh?”

Steve shoots the boy a half-hearted glare, then deflates because he realizes he can’t really be mad about it. Those damn demobats might’ve taken a pound of flesh from his stomach, but it’s nowhere near the feast they made out of Munson.

“C’mon on, dude,” he murmurs quietly with a subtle nod down at you.

“What?” Eddie snorts. “If I don’t laugh bout it, I’ll start crying, so… Take your pick, man.”

Steve wants to tell him that there’s no shame in crying. That he’s done it plenty of times since the fall of ’84. He’s cried for you, for himself, for the kids who will never get to be kids again. He figures it’s better than letting it all build up until you damn near explode.

But now’s probably not the best time for that talk. Or any time, really. He’ll get you to get all serious and sappy with Eddie about that another time, just like you did for him.

“I’m gonna, uh— I’m gonna go get the tickets,” Jonathan murmurs with his usual Byers mumblings.

He wasn’t around for the whole Vecna ordeal — just the weird shit in California and the secret lair thing in Nevada. He feels like he can be a bit braver about the whole thing for the four of you.

Nancy brushes a kiss to the boy’s cheek before he leaves. She does that a lot now, with Jonathan and all the rest of you. She always feels like she needs to say a proper goodbye and I love you whenever someone leaves. Just in case the world decides to end again.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Steve mutters to you, gaze twinkling with sincerity but stern still. “You know that, right?”

He knows that you know, but he feels the need to say it anyway. Mostly because he knows you were already scared of most things before everything went to shit. You’ve always been delicate, tender, like an open wound. Now, you can’t step outside without shaking. You’re always shuddering with the distant fear that the curse might return and no one will be there to save you.

Steve knows this, too. That’s why he holds so ardently to your trembling hand. It’s a silent reminder that he’s there, that he won’t let anything happen to you again, that he’ll always be around to save you when you need him.

“Oh, my god,” Robin groans, eyes wide and head tilted back. “Leave her alone, Steve! She’s fine!”

You know she’s just trying to be supportive. She thinks Steve’s coddling you because you’re quiet — that he’s sticking up for you because he thinks you can’t stick up for yourself.

He is. And you can’t. But still, she’s only trying to help.

Steve looks to his left to glare at her. They seem to communicate telepathically for a moment. His eyes soften again when he turns back to you. His deep cinnamon gaze swims with a honeyed concern, a silent “Are you fine?”

You nod. “I’m okay,” you tell him, mustering a soft smile that wavers at the edges.

He doesn’t believe you, not completely, but he doesn’t press it any further.

Jonathan returns with the ticket stubs. They’re black and blood red. You take the one he gives you with hesitant, clammy hands. He seems to notice how terrified you are without you having to say a single goddamn word.

“I’m not a huge fan of these things either,” he confesses with a thin-lipped smile. A light-hearted way of telling you that you’re not alone in the fear you keep hidden (very poorly hidden, you figure).

You smile back at him, but it doesn’t quite meet your eyes.

Your fingers fidget with the paper stub — maybe a distraction for yourself or maybe to hide how you’re too anxious to stay still. Steve figures it’s a bit of both. ‘Cause he knows you too well and not a thing gets by him. There’s nothing about you that he doesn’t notice.

He turns to face you completely while everyone else gets their ticket. He keeps his wedged between his middle and forefinger as his hands curl around the outsides of your elbows. He’s serious, but still soft — gentle, but still firm.

“Babe—”

“Stevie,” you interject with a similar tone. “I’m okay.”

“You heard her, Stevie. She’s fine!” Robin retorts, curling her maroon-tinted lips into a smirk. She scoffs out a laugh and gestures up to the fake haunt across the street. “This shit is basically for kids. No one’s dying here, alright?”

You know what she’s doing. She’s sticking up for you and taking the piss out of her best friend at the same time. It’s nothing new — hell, it’s her favorite hobby. She’s got your back now the same way she had it in that house last spring.

But still, her words sting a little.

Because she’s right. This place is for kids. And you still feel a bit like you’re dying.

Steve knows this, too. He knows everything about you. Even the stuff you wish he didn’t.

His sneakers scuff against the pavement when he turns to Robin. His eyes narrow in a challenging squint as he crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn’t look quite as intimidating as usual in his fluffy, cable-knit sweater.

“Well, you know what? I’m scared, actually. I don’t wanna do it, okay? You got me, Rob.”

The girl grins something cynical. She shakes her head all slow, like she’s just caught him in some kind of lie. “I knew it. You little baby.”

Steve lets her tease him. It’s not like he isn’t used to it by now. He just rolls his eyes and bears it, lets her laugh about it with the rest of the group as they head towards the haunted house.

You watch with an attentive gaze while they head inside, flinching softly when you hear a thunderous boom and the sound of their screaming a second later. It leaves you secretly grateful that you hadn’t gone in behind them.

A wavering sigh tumbles from your lips, a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Steve exhales a gentle laugh from beside you. He smooths a wide palm up your spine and down again. He leans over to press the side of his hip against yours.

You cross your arms over your chest to make yourself as small as possible while you glance over at the boy beside you. You look at him so far beneath your lashes you’re basically peering at him from the corner of your eye.

“Thank you,” is all you say. It’s all you need to say.

Steve shrugs with a plush, crooked grin. “’S okay. I know you’re too sweet to say no, so…”

“I wanted to do it,” you confess, clearing your throat when your voice breaks.

“I know.”

“I guess I’m not… as used to everything as I thought.”

“I know,” Steve repeats. His hand curls around your waist and makes a home in the very center of it. He pulls you closer with the urge to melt into you. His brows raise, eyes sparkling when his smile widens. “But that’s why I’m here, though, right? We’re gonna get better together.”

You nod up at him, smiling more sincerely now.

Arms still crossed, your hands ball into fists to fight the urge to smooth a hand through his hair — to push back the rogue chestnut strands hanging over his forehead.

You hesitate, so he beats you to the draw. He swipes a golden hand over his head right before he leans down to kiss you.

He smacks a sweet peck to your smile. A bright light flashes with another thunderous boom a moment later. You flinch and pull back. You swear you hear Eddie screaming, “jesus fucking christ!” from the upper story. You forget to be scared.

You didn’t think it was possible. The whole getting better thing.

Steve makes you feel like could be.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: fictober!

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fbfh · 10 months

Text

rodrick x hyperfeminine reader hcs 2

wc: 1.7k

genre: mutual pining, minor angst

pairing: rodrick x hyperfeminine!reader

warnings: houseparty, madison and heather aren't very good friends, one brief mention of alcohol/underage drinking but no one is obviously drunk, Brent keeps flirting with you and can't take a hint but it's annoying and inconvenient at most, minor miscommunication, sad roddy at the end

summary: after getting all dolled up for your party (which is really just an excuse to see rodrick and his band play) you spend the whole night not getting to do the one thing you want to do - see Rodrick.

song rec: teenage dirtbag - wheatus, and I imagine them playing put your money on me - the struts, basket case - green day, and of course, diper overlode - loded diper at the party

a/n: the long awaited part 2 is here!! and yes there will be a part 3 that takes place at prom lol

tags at the bottom (tagging all the people who asked for part 2 as well lol)

You’ve spent all week planning your party

Now it’s finally friday after school, and Heather and Madison are at your place, taking on the monumental task of deciding what you’re going to wear

You decide on the new pair of heels you got as your inspiration piece

They’re baby pink and strappy, with a butterfly shape made of little diamonds on the front

You’ve been absolutely obsessed with them, and the party seems like the perfect opportunity to break them in

You dig around in your closet, pulling a few of your other pink dresses

It’s not much of a contest when you see them laid out, and you choose the light pink satin one to go with your shoes

You listen to Heather and Madison gossip while you dig through your jewelry and nail polish, finding some coordinating accessories and your next mani pedi color

“Which earrings?” You ask them, holding up two pairs.

“That one.” They say in unison, pointing to the one on your left

You were leaning toward that pair anyway, so you’re glad they agree

After finalizing some details and going over what they’re going to wear, all your party outfits are planned

Heather and Madison leave to get dressed, promising to be back within the hour so you can all help each other with hair and makeup

You’ve practically become their personal beauty guru since you became friends

You always know just what to do to make their makeup look flawless and their hair cooperate when it’s being stubborn

You’re a big ball of nerves while you get the last details set up

Snacks are laid out, drinks are set up

Now all you need is the people

And more importantly

The band

As people show up, Heather drags you around to socialize

You swear, she must make you say hi to every single person there

If you were a little more cynical, you might pick up on the fact that Heather is trying to keep you away from Rodrick

Rodrick, who you’ve been thinking about non stop since you first saw him

You spend the whole time looking around for him and his band

You think you see him across the room once, but it’s a girl with a dark brown pixie cut

It’s hard to tell in this lighting, and you’re glad you caught it before you made a really awkward mistake

You’re sure it would have been a funny anecdote that lead to you being friends after

On your way back, you get stopped by Brad

He insists on pulling you aside to talk, which Heather and Madison encourage

But right now all you want is to find Rodrick

And all Rodrick wants is to find you

They’re almost warmed up and ready for their set

And GOD he’s never been more excited for a gig

He’s so ready to go all out

To impress you

And to avoid all Justin Bieber songs to prevent another Heather’s sweet 16 incident

He fidgets with his drumsticks and looks around again

He still doesn’t see you

Which sucks, because he’s been thinking about this exact moment non stop since loded diper got this dream of a gig

He’s been making the boys practice way more than normal

Much to his parent’s dismay (even though they’re starting to sound pretty good)

To avoid another Heather Hills sweet 16 situation

But more importantly, to impress you

When Rodrick fell asleep every night this week, he had a variation of the same dream

Playing at this party, rocking the house so hard people talk about it for years afterwards, and getting to see you

You’re so beautiful, standing dead center at the front of the crowd, looking up at him the whole time

They barely finish their set when you weave your way through the band, and walk right up to him

His heart is pounding as you start praising him, telling him how good he was, how you want to be his little rockstar’s girlfriend

He usually gets so excited he wakes himself up after that

And now

It’s finally happening

His literal dreams are coming true

His band got a great gig

And he gets to play for you

This is probably the biggest opportunity since battle of the bands

The guys know how much he’s been looking forward to this

It’s all he’s been talking about

He really thinks that if everything goes perfect, he might be able to shoot his shot with you

He just has to focus

Focus on playing a perfect gig, focus on figuring out how to woo you

Once they’re all warmed up and hyped up, they start their set

You can hear the band starting to tune up from the other room, and try for what feels like the millionth time to slip away from Brent

You’ve had to turn him down more times than you can count, and he still can’t take a goddamn hint

“I really have to go check on my friends…” you trail off, finally slipping into the crowd

You manage to find Madison, who signals to Heather, and soon all three of you are hiding in the bathroom

You catch your breath for a little while, touching up your makeup while Heather checks herself out and fluffs her hair

Madison sits nearby, texting someone

After a little while, you sigh, figuring you should all get back

Heather and Madison share a look while you straighten out your necklace

Heather walks to the door with Madison right behind her

She pokes her head out of the door, then closes it quickly

“Brent is right down the hall,” she says, turning back to you as Madison nods, “we should wait in here a little longer

It feels like you wait in the bathroom forever while Heather occasionally sending Madison out to check

After a little while you hear faint music

Your stomach drops

You can’t miss the band, the whole point of throwing this party was getting to see Rodrick and loded diper play

“Did they start already?” you ask, walking toward the door

Heather grabs your arm before you can open it, telling you Brent is still right outside, and sends Madison to go check if the band started yet

Madison comes back a minute later

“They’re still warming up,” she says, sharing a look with Heather

A little while later, the music gets louder and you don’t want to risk missing their show

You leave the bathroom before Heather and Madison can stop you

You’re met with loud rock music reverberating through the house

Definitely not just warming up

You try to get to the other room where they’re playing so you don’t miss the rest of their set

Before you get very far, Brent catches your eye and cuts through the crowd

He follows you around and keeps trying to pull you aside to flirt and talk and get you to go out with him

You manage to get to the doorway of the room they’re playing when he pins you against the wall

He’s going on and on about how you’d be perfect together, you’d be lucky to get with him, everyone at school wants him

But all you can think about is how great the band sounds

They’re like a perfect blend of all the best pop punk and rock groups you’ve ever heard

Right off the bat, you pick out influences from green day, my chemical romance, and metallica

You’re really fucking impressed

You didn’t expect them to be this good, and you didn’t have low expectations to begin with

You just wish you could get away from Brent to really get to see the rest of their set before it’s over

When the song ends, you hear Rodricks voice and stretch up to try and see him as he leans into the mic

“Thank you, we are Loded Diper! Fuck authority!” he looks over at Chris, then leans back into the mic “And the patriarchy!”

Your stomach sinks as you realize you missed most of their show, but you still cheer louder than anyone else in the room

Rodrick lets out a little puff of air when Chris taps his shoulder, getting his attention

“Uh, listen man…” Chris starts, but Rodrick doesn’t hear what he says after that

He looks over to where Chris is gesturing, and his heart sinks

Brent has you pinned against the wall across the room, and you two are looking awfully cozy together

“Shit…” Rodrick says

Once again, he looks like an idiot for thinking he has a chance with you

“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” Ben says, signaling to Ward to help them bring their stuff back out to the van

They wrap it up and leave quickly, and Ward, Ben, and Chris try to figure out how to help their heartbroken drummer

You spend the rest of the party looking for Rodrick

You hope he stuck around, you really want to tell him how great he was

When the alcohol runs out and the party’s over, Madison and Heather sleep over, helping you clean up

Technically Heather makes Madison help you clean up

All they can talk about is prom coming up, but your mind is still on Rodrick

And how you didn’t get to see him

You wish you could have told him how amazing he was

Even if he’s not into you like you’re really, really into him

You just want him to know that you could listen to his music all day and never get tired of it

“...coordinating dates, and-” Heather says, turning to you suddenly, “you’re going to help us pick out dresses, right?”

You nod, flashing her a smile and hoping to disguise your disappointment at how the night went

“Yeah,” you answer as she goes on about finding you all dates

But you know that if you can’t go to prom with Rodrick, you won’t want to go at all

You just hope by some miracle you’ll get to dance with him, at least once

@dustyinkpages @the-snake-pit @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @followingthefanfiction @2220825 @marveldemigod17 @celootaku1 @stay-to-reblog @whos-mixxie @mikulovingtrash @inthemindofaweirdo @b0nes-phobic @myymmeloo @wanderlustingcastaway @debbi3-debaser @lubunnii @imaybewrongbutidoubtit @cloverhasnobrain @bessonasa @strangelysamantha @1-800-starkindustrie @brookeskitty @1ummcalhoody6 @always1s4youbitch-blog @citri-koi @vincentluvr444 @brunnetteiwik @melllinaa @reeces-pieses @mentamaree @jasontodd-artemisgrace4life @jinniy

#rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #doawk rodrick #rodrick x reader #rodrick #rodrick x hyperfeminine!reader #rodrick x girly reader #AWWWGHGHHN I HOPE ITS WORTH THE WAIT

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 4 months

Text

Moving on to You

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: Aaron finally tells his longtime crush about his feelings when he almost loses her (Sequel to Move On)

Warning: jealousy, pining, awkward dates, canon level violence, non-accurate medical stuff

Word Count: 4.5K

Masterlist

A/N I've had this in my drafts for months and I finally decided to finish and publish it per request

Aaron Hotchner is the definition of levelheaded. He’s renowned in the FBI not only for his success rate at catching criminals but also for his professionalism. And snapping a pencil with his fist whilst staring at his subordinate through his office window as she smiled up at an unknown agent was incredibly unprofessional. He knew this wasn’t the first man she had gotten to know over the past year but this was the first time he was forced to actually witness her flirting with another man.

He knew he had no right to be jealous, their relationship had never progressed beyond friendly in the year that Y/N had been on the team. Still he couldn’t help but feel the slight clench of pain in his chest every time he saw her smile at her phone or overheard one of her conversations with another team member about a new guy.

Nonetheless his professionalism prevailed as he began to review potential cases. He noted one regarding a serial killer just outside of DC, setting it aside to pass onto Garcia.

The next morning the team was assembled in the conference room as Penelope relayed the information about a killer who had been targeting strippers. Although Aaron’s attention was on Y/N as he observed her clearly exhausted body language. Probably a date night with that agent, he thought cynically.

Soon enough Penelope was done speaking. “We’ll head out in 30. Meet in the garage then,” he ordered as the rest of the team. He was headed out towards his office when he stopped as he heard Morgan’s voice.

“Up late with the new boy toy?” Derek teased.

“I guess you could say that,” Y/N answered casually. “I’m not seeing him anymore.”

“Wait why?” JJ asked suddenly. Similar to what Aaron wanted to ask.

He was still turned away from the group but Aaron could practically hear Y/N’s shrug. “Just weren’t clicking anymore.”

“What was he into something weird? Like a foot fetish?” Derek asked with full seriousness.

Y/N laughed. “I’m not answering that.”

“So he was!” Derek shouted as she passed Aaron down to the bullpen.

The rest filed out of the conference room as Aaron continued to pretend to be busy with the file. “She’s single again,” Rossi sung quietly.

“I am aware and I don’t see how that affects me,” Aaron tried to deflect.

“Oh come on, I see the way you watch her. I also noticed a broken pencil in your trash can. Did you Hulk-out when you saw her with that agent yesterday?”

“Wait why were you in my office?”

“Doesn’t matter. The point is she’s single, you’re single, and you’ve been in love with her for the past year-”

“No I haven’t,” Aaron suddenly cut in, sounding like a teenage girl. He cleared his throat. “I’m not in love with her. Besides she’s my subordinate-”

“And you don’t want anyone to think she’s on the team for the wrong reason blah, blah, blah,” Rossi finished. “You said that a year ago. Besides, at this point, no one would think that. You deserve to be happy, Aaron. Get out there and get the girl!”

With those words Dave left, leaving Aaron in his thoughts. Could they actually be together? Would she even want him?

He pushed those thoughts aside, getting ready to head out with the rest of his team. Including the girl who consumed his every thought.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, these are SSAs Jareau, Morgan, Rossi, L/N, Prentiss, and Dr. Reid,” Aaron introduced his team to the town’s sheriff.

“We appreciate you guys coming so fast. The people here aren’t used to this type of crime,” Sheriff Osborne explained, leading the feds through the police station.

Aaron tried to listen to the sheriff’s information but rather he was keenly aware of all the police officers stares. Pushing through it, the agents followed the sheriff into a conference room that would serve as their setup.

“Alright, JJ and Reid, head to the medical examiner. We need to figure out what exactly he’s doing to these girls. Morgan and I will go to the clubs these girls were working, see if there was anyone who stuck out to the other dancers. Rossi and Prentiss, head to the most recent crime scene. L/N, I want you to work on the geographical profile,” Aaron ordered.

That last order raised an eyebrow for everyone on the team. “But… Reid usually does the geographical profile,” Y/N suggested gently, a confused twinge in her voice.

“Yes, well since it seems you can’t stop talking about your personal life I figured it’d be best if you work alone for a little while.” The second those words left Aaron’s mouth he instantly regretted them. Y/N looked taken aback by his rude words but having never questioned his authority she just lowered her gaze to the ground. Looking around the other members of his team looked aghast at his words too. Aaron’s soft spot for the newest agent had been noticed by everyone on the team (except of course the agent in question) so seeing him be so outrightly rude was jarring. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, especially not humiliate her in front of the team, but he was so frustrated having to hear the others question Y/N on her love life around the office and in the car.

Seeing that he shouldn’t continue barking orders, Aaron turned to exit the room, the rest following. Unseen by him was every member of the team giving Y/N sympathetic looks.

Once buckled inside their SUV, Morgan began to question his boss. “What was that with L/N back there? We all talk about our personal lives all the time and it’s never affected our work, Y/N included.”

Aaron sighed, really not having a good reason for his outburst. “She brought that agent into our office unauthorized. He shouldn’t have even had access to our floor.”

“So you yell at her a day later in front of an entire precinct?”

“Morgan, drop it,” Aaron said sternly, not wanting to continue this. Seeing as there was no point in continuing, Derek kept his mouth shut but the ride to the club was tense the rest of the way.

“Hey, sorry about your boss,” a voice interrupted Y/N’s intense concentration on the map in front of her. She whipped her head around to look at him, a little startled. Seeing her alarm the young officer took a step back. “Didn’t mean to scare you, just thought you might like some coffee.”

“Hmm? Oh! Thanks,” she said, her brain catching up to his words. She took the coffee gratefully, taking a sip. It was made wrong but not wanting to seem ungrateful she gave the officer a smile.

“Thought you could use it after your boss treated you so badly,” the officer empathized.

Y/N sucked in a breath. “You saw that, huh?”

“I think everyone saw it,” the officer chuckled awkwardly. “I’m Officer Olson, but you can call me Cole.” Y/N took a second to observe the man. He wasn’t necessarily her type, her having a thing for the dark, brooding types, but he was certainly attractive.

“Agent Y/N L/N,” she introduced.

“So what are you working on, Agent Y/N L/N?” he asked, saying her name flirtatiously.

She let out a small laugh at his tone. “Um it’s called a geographical profile. We take every significant location like homes, workplaces, abduction sights, crime scene, disposal sights, etc. to get an idea of these killers comfort zones. Which often leads us to where they will either strike next, where they live or work, or what their holding place might be in cases where victims are abducted.”

“Wow, this profiling stuff is crazy. I’ve heard you guys can tell someone’s entire life story from just one look,” he teased.

“I don’t know about that but yeah, you can learn a lot about a person from just a conversation if you pay close attention.”

“What can you tell about me?”

Y/N looked him up and down. His body language screamed that he was interested in her but she didn’t want to embarrass him too much. “You have the confidence of a youngest son and let me guess, you were in a frat in college?” The officer blushed, surprised she sussed that out so quickly. “You’re here as an officer for glory and you got it, the people here already admire you. You actually got the chance to move onto something bigger, probably DC, but it’s easier to stand out in your small hometown.” Cole just stared at the pretty FBI agent, slightly mortified that she saw through him so clearly. His first instinct was deny it but something about her made him think twice. She just smirked at his silence. “Gotcha.”

Before Officer Olson could say anything, two other FBI agents walked into the room. “Careful L/N,” Rossi interrupted the pair, “Hotch was pulling up as we walked in.”

“Guess I better go,” Cole said sheepishly. “Nice to meet you Agent Y/N.” She couldn’t help the smile that found it’s way onto her face at the use of her title and first name.

“Damn, already moving onto a different guy?” Emily asked with a chuckle.

“No, he just came in and introduced himself,” Y/N brushed off. Emily and Rossi both just hummed in disagreement.

As the BAU chief walked in he didn’t notice the burning gaze of Officer Olson. What he did notice was the way Y/N seemed to shy away from his very presence. As he stepped into the conference room his heart clenched when she met his gaze but just turned away, busying herself with the board that showed the geographical profile.

After a fitful night of regret, Aaron decided to apologize to his young agent in the morning. But as he opened his door to his crappy motel room into the crappy hallway he could hear two voices.

“Thought I’d bring you some coffee that didn’t come from an old police station coffee pot,” a masculine voice flirted.

“Thank you,” came the giggle from Y/N. Aaron practically groaned to himself. This couldn’t be happening again.

“I was wondering… if you’re not too busy,” the voice changed, gaining a nervous lilt, “if you’d like to get dinner with me on a slower night before you and your team leave? I know you’re actively chasing a serial killer so it doesn’t have to be fancy.” The voice seemed to have caught themselves, changing their pitch. “O-or it can be really fancy! Whatever you want! I’m not picky I-”

“I’d love to have dinner with you,” Y/N’s calming voice interrupted, putting the boy out of his misery. “We can do tonight. Just grab something easy and nearby.”

“Ye- yeah, I’d like that.” Aaron internally rolled his eyes at being able to hear the bright smile in this guy’s voice. “I’ll uh see you then.”

“See you later.” Aaron sighed internally, hearing the door to Y/N’s room close softly. She had been single for what? 24hours? And he had still lost his opportunity? Deciding that his emotions were running too high to talk to Y/N right now, he just let his door fall back closed, deciding to just get ready for the day.

“When I graduated from the FBI academy I was placed in the Human Resources branch because of my psych degree. Obviously, that wasn’t exactly what I wanted to do so when I heard about an opening in the Behavioral Analysis Unit I jumped at it and fortunately my boss, Hotch, was willing to take a chance on me. Agent Rossi and the rest of the team pretty much taught me everything I know,” Y/N explained as her date stared at her in awe.

“Wow, that’s quite the resume you have,” he chuckled nervously, taking a sip of his drink. “I’ll admit it’s been a long time since I went on a date where the girl’s career was more impressive.” Y/N quirked her eyebrow at that but didn’t say anything. “Not that it’s an issue, just not a lot going on around here.”

She just hummed looking down at her food. She tried to covertly push away the peas in her food, not wanting to insult Cole’s food choice.

There was an awkward beat of silence between the two that was fortunately broken up by Y/N’s phone ringing. She felt a sense of relief reading her boss’ name flash across the screen. “Hey Hotch,” she answered.

“L/N, where are you?” his stern voice cut to the chase.

“Um, this place called Vincent's with Officer Olson. It’s like 15 minutes from the station. Why?”

Aaron pushed through the reoccurring pang in his chest. “Some other officers cornered our unsub, James Stevens, in a strip club. He’s holding five girls hostage inside.”

“Where is it?”

“125 North St. 5 minutes east of you.”

“I’ll be right over,” Y/N quickly cut in.

“L/N, do not engage before the rest of us get there. Got it?”

“Yeah, I understand,” she agreed begrudgingly. She hung up the phone, already collecting her things. “I have to go, the unsub is holding a group of girls hostage inside a club 5 minutes from here.”

“Oh shit,” Cole exclaimed, grabbing his things and leaving some cash on the table. The pair quickly jumped into their respective cars, lights and sirens blaring as they headed to the club.

As soon as Y/N jumped out of the SUV several officers flocked towards her. “Scene is yours agent, what do you want to do?” Sheriff Osborne asked.

“Any shots fired? Do we have confirmation the girls are alive?”

“Snipers have eyes on three of the girls and we have no reason to believe the other two are dead. Upon entering he fired randomly, killing a few patrons per witnesses. Thing is, when he took control he let every man leave but held all the girls.”

“Okay,” she acknowledged, trying to figure out what her next move would be. Based on the profile she knew he was negotiable but if he felt any sort of threat he’d go down guns blazing, taking down anyone he could. “I’m going in to talk to him.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Cole’s voice suddenly interrupted. He had grabbed Y/N’s arm, looking at her with pleading eyes. She just stared at him, confused before sliding her arm out of his grip.

“Agent, shouldn’t you wait for your team?” The sheriff’s voice interrupted the awkward encounter.

“This guy’s going to get more agitated and unstable the longer we wait. I’m going in now,” she said, pulling the gun out of her waistband and handing it to the sheriff. “And don’t let anyone in there until I call for it. We could lose a lot of lives if we spook this guy.”

The sheriff nodded as she approached the door.

“Agent L/N is entering the building,” crackled over the radio as Hotch and the rest of the team raced through the streets.

“What?” Aaron’s mind was going a mile a minute. “Repeat that,” he called over the radio.

“Agent L/N has entered the building to begin negotiations,” the police reporter called over the radio again.

Derek stared at the radio in shock from the passenger seat. “Hotch-” he began, wanting to slam his foot on the gas.

“I know,” he said, already pressing the car to go faster than they had been going previously.

They arrived on scene in record time, Hotch barely taking the time to throw the car in park. He was immediately heading for the door, not bothering to get all the information he would normally wait for, too set on getting the woman he was in love with out. “Stop him!” he heard a sudden shout. Several officers flocked to him in an effort to block his path. Whirling around furiously he found a desperate looking sheriff. “Agent L/N said that if anyone goes in there a lot of lives will be lost. And I’m guessing your agent would be one of them.”

Aaron wanted to pull rank and argue but he knew the sheriff was right but he was desperate to get his agent out of there safely.

“I tried to stop her,” an officer interrupted. Aaron recognized the voice from the hallway. All he could muster was an annoyed look before turning his attention back to the sheriff.

“Do we have a line of communication?”

“Yeah, we have Stevens on the phone. No one’s talked in a while though, we’ve just been listening to your agent try to calm him down.”

Soon enough the BAU chief had the phone. “Agent L/N, exit the building, that’s an order.”

It took a second but he got a shaky, “Not gonna happen, Hotch.”

“L/N-”

“You heard the lady,” a new voice cut him off. James Stevens. “She doesn’t want to leave yet. C’mon, let me keep her for a little while longer?” he pleaded sarcastically. “The pretty girls rarely keep their clothes on nowadays. Agent L/N is a breath of fresh air.”

Aaron clenched his jaw at his words. “We can work something out James.” Covering the microphone he leaned over to one of the officers. “Tell the snipers to take the shot of they get it,” he whispered.

“Come on you know there’s no walking out of this a free man, just let us walk out and we’ll talk this out,” he heard Y/N’s voice. There was a minute of silence and Aaron could only imagine what the psychopath inside was doing. “At least let the girls go. I’ll stay, I’ll be your collateral.”

“Agen-” Aaron immediately began to reprimand.

“Shut up!” James shrieked through the phone so loud Aaron had to pull it away. “Fine,” he heard more quietly. “You five, go! You stay.”

Once again Aaron covered the microphone. “As they’re coming out, go.”

All the girls started immediately scrambling up, heading for the door. It happened so fast there was hardly time to register it.

The first girl reached the door, wrenching it open. She was immediately met with a wall of SWAT officers. They pressed inside, guns up as the girls shrieked and scrambled away. “No!” Y/N heard herself shout, going towards them. Mistaking her attempt to salvage the situation as an effort to escape, Stevens was on her in a second.

She felt a sharp pain pierce her abdomen as he tackled her to the ground. She then felt him slump against her before being quickly pushed off, a SWAT officer kneeling over her, calling for a medic.

“Agent down, agent down,” Aaron heard the report come over the radio. He was immediately tearing away from the phone, running towards the entrance of the club. But Rossi intercepted him before he could go inside.

“I know, I know, I heard,” Dave tried to calm down his friend. “But EMTs just went in and you don’t need to be in the way.” Aaron began to protest but was cut off again. “I know it’s hard to watch the woman you love be hurt again but Y/N will be fine.”

Before Aaron could continue arguing he caught sight of Y/N being rolled out on a gurney. Dave let him go as he followed the EMTs to the ambulance. But before he could climb in the same officer from earlier ran up. “I-I’m her boyfriend,” he explained as he tried to climb up into the ambulance.

With those words Aaron nearly snapped. Despite his insecurity in his place in Y/N’s life, he knew that was a complete fallacy. She would never move that fast with a complete stranger. “Officer,” he caught the young man’s attention.

Cole visibly paled seeing Y/N’s boss. “A-agent Hotchner.”

Satisfied with the boy’s scared shitless expression, Aaron turned back to the EMT’s. “SSA Aaron Hotchner,” he introduced, pulling out his badge. “This is my agent and I will be accompanying her to the hospital.” And with that, he sent Officer Olson one last glare before climbing in.

Upon entering the ambulance the EMT stepped out, shutting the doors. As he took a seat, he realized his agent was still awake, albeit in agony. “Y/N? I’m right here,” he said, taking her blood soaked hand. Her shirt had been removed, allowing him to see the stab wound that had been tightly wrapped with blood soaked bandages. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault, Aaron,” she said through gritted teeth, her face twisted in pain as they hit a bump in the road. “I’m so cold an-and tired.”

He couldn’t help but notice the way she said his first name. It was refreshing, almost a relief, to hear his name come from her lips. “Hey, no just stay awake for a little while longer. We’re almost to the hospital.” Y/N just nodded, tears of pain and fear running down her cheeks.

“Why’d you come?” she suddenly asked. “I thought you hated me.”

It physically pained Aaron to hear that. “I’m so sorry I’ve been treating you the way I have on this case. I just couldn’t help but…” Aaron hesitated with the next words. He didn’t want to be vulnerable but she deserved the truth. “…be jealous.”

That took Y/N’s mind off of the pain. “Jealous?”

Aaron hung his head. “Yes, I-I’ve had feelings for you ever since you joined. I understand if you want to take some time away after this or even transfer to another team of your choice. I just thought you were owed an explanation for my behavior.”

“Y-you’ve had feelings for me for that long?”

Aaron squeezed her hand again. “Please don’t make me say it,” he asked but inside, he’d humiliate himself a million times to make up for what he did and earn her affection.

“Just this once,” she requested, tears pricking her eyes, whether from pain or emotion. “I need to be sure it’s not the blood loss.”

Aaron sighed softly, admiring her face. “I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you for the last year.”

“I’ve felt the same about you,” she confessed.

“Say it,” Aaron pressed, his other hand now clutching onto their already joined hands.

“I love you, Aaron.”

A smile tugged at Aaron’s lips. He hadn’t realized how much tension had gathered and with Y/N’s confession it all dispersed. Reaching a hand up to her face he cupped her cheek, tangling his fingertips into her hair. “You’re gonna be okay,” Aaron promised. “You have to be okay.” But he could see her eyes slipping closed and he could feel how clammy her skin was. “You gotta stay awake, sweetheart. C’mon.”

“It hurts,” she groaned through half closed lids.

“I know, you’re almost there.”

It took a few hours of surgery and another couple days of rest in the hospital but Agent L/N was finally discharged to go home. Unfortunately, she had to have a caretaker for that period of time. Fortunately, her boss/the man who was in love with her, was more than happy to take responsibility for his agent.

“Almost there,” Aaron tried to soothe a very tired and pained Y/N. Taking a few deep breaths, she found the strength to hobble over to her bed with a lot of support from Aaron.

She let out a groan as Aaron helped settle her on the bed. As he gripped her hand, he couldn’t help but see flashes of blood, remembering that night in the ambulance. “I’m gonna grab your bag from the car. Be right back,” Aaron promised with a peck to her lips.

While grabbing her bag was a legitimate excuse, he really just needed a minute to calm himself down. He needed to remember that Y/N was safe, not lying on a surgical table or in the back of an ambulance bleeding out.

He quickly hurried back into her apartment after grabbing her bag, re-entering the bedroom. “Here you are,” Aaron said, leaning the go-bag up against her dresser which was placed next to the bed. “I guess I’ll um let you rest,” he murmured out awkwardly. As much as he’d rather stay over she probably wanted some time to relax. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Aaron,” her voice interrupted him as he turned towards the door. Pivoting on his heel, he looked back at her. “Can you… um… just stick around for a little while? Every time I closed my eyes when I was alone in the hospital all I could see was him.”

That surprised Aaron a bit but it felt as if his entire being melted. She wanted him to protect her?

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed. There was no place in her bedroom to sit so he settled on the end of the bed. “‘M glad you feel safe with me,” he murmured.

“I do,” she confirmed. “You’re like my personal bodyguard,” she said, recalling memories of him barking orders at doctors when she was in pain or when annoying officers came to visit.

“I’m glad,” he smiled. He helped her settle into a lying position before resuming his place at the foot of the bed, regretfully letting out a yawn. After all, being a personal bodyguard was exhausting.

She noticed his yawn and immediately began demanding he lie down too. “You’ve been up helping me for days. Help me by sleeping now, please.”

“I really don’t want to intrude,” Aaron excused. “You don’t need me accidentally hurting you.”

“You won’t,” she swore. “Please. I’ll feel better knowing you’re resting too.”

Sleeping with her did sound nice. An irrational part of him thinking he could keep her nightmares away by doing so. So he complied, sliding under the covers she had pulled back for him. As he settled, she scooted closer to him as much as her surgical wounds would allow. Until she ended up tucked under his arm, head resting on his shoulder.

“Sleep,” he murmured the order, thumb stroking her cheekbone. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Masterlist

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #x reader #bau #bau x reader #hotch #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader

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9800sblog · 11 months

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pick a card tarot reading - which version of you will meet your forever person?

what's your character development before they come along? or have they already arrived?

from left to right, up to down: red nails - pile 1, yellow helmet - pile 2, kitty - pile 3, pool - pile 4

pile 1

cards: knight of swords reversed, 7 of wands, ace of swords, ace of cups, 10 of cups

this is one of your happiest chapters, the end of a book that has a sequence, a teenager in the end of a coming of age movie. you're not prepared for your whole life or done developing, but you have gone through rigorous moments already. this is a new beginning, you're stronger, smarter, happy, but irresponsible or scared. you think you're better than everyone, you have better ideas and values, you might be right, but there's no need for a fight, you're a rebel in a small idle town. you are unique, you bring freshness into the world with your talents and experiences but you may not have the exact type of support you need to succeed with those right away, your person will be that support, you're gonna have to rely and trust on them to be the backbone of your newest story. you're a little cynical, sarcastic and defensive. you may be very into a specific social fight but not know enough about the subject to actually take part in it. you know this is your person because they're gonna go against tradition to take care of you and make sure you're safe and happy.

gilmore girls vibes! the whole show and all characters fit this description, if you see yourself in them at some point in your life, that might be when ;)

pile 2

cards: king of wands, 2 of cups, 5 of cups reversed, 2 of swords reversed, the hermit

introspective, experienced and major respect to the elderly, understands the value of interchanging informations and respecting others' boundaries. probably a loner tho, you have accepted your fate as the old neighbor with 5 cats, whatever these cats may represent for you. ironically, you're so comfortable alone that you're attracting many people to you. you're someone that others are curious about, you're different than the rest and they wanna hear your opinions on different things, you may be the quiet kid that somehow got friends without saying 2 words. you're seen as wise and confident, you feel like it's a lie, that you ain't nothing special, you're just different from this batch but there are others similar to you out there; that's your person. your person has these same life experiences and you'll know it's them because you've never met someone as similar to you before. they'll probably surprise you because you're so used to being alone you plan a whole future of loneliness.

pile 3

cards: page of wands, the emperor reversed, the world, page of pentacles reversed, the devil reversed

childlike wonder, you're almost crude, if this word can be used for people. someone who refuses to grow up and be an adult for whatever reason. you're probably focused on inner child healing - that may be as simple as watching childhood movies, playing on an inflatable bed or more thoughtful as allowing yourself to make mistakes and exist as a regular person. this is giving me the feeling of summer, so this may be a version of you who knows how to have fun and forget responsibilities or goes to your family's for a while and allow yourself to be taken care of. you engage in worldly behavior without any shame, it's literally harmless in this case, it's good and healing to your soul. if you have a position of power, you'll have stepped down from it because it's too much pressure and you wanna enjoy life more. you'll know you wanna be with them forever because it'll feel easy, they are perfect, an angel sent from above and you may feel a little inadequate at the time, but you'll get over it because you're cool as fuck.

pile 4

cards: the magician reversed, 4 of cups, queen of swords reversed, judgement reversed, the star reversed, 8 of cups reversed

your whole life is upside down, this is probably a depressive episode. you don't have patience, energy or hope even for the near future, you may be physically sick too. you know you're worth more than this, you wanna change but you think you don't have the resources. you feel lazy and bored, harsh on your words with yourself and others, you may have a creative outlet that you don't share with the world yet, it may be the thing that's gonna change your life. you're scared to show people you're unwell, but you desperately need help and you feel like you're making a wish on a dead star. your person shows up during your darkest time to help you get out of it, they'll give you that nice butterfly feeling, tingling on your tummy and warm on your face ^^ you'll know this is your person because you usually like nobody, including yourself, but this soul is just like yours and you think they're the most beautiful thing you have ever seen in your entire life, maybe too good to be true - they're not. you like the same things and match very well, this person deals with emotions in a different way than you and you will start seeing the world in a different perspective.

#pick a card #pac tarot #future spouse reading #pac #tarot game #free tarot #Spotify #nirvana

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fangisms · 9 months

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all of the girls you loved

A/N: i am a SUCKER for a good song fic and obvi a sucker for some good Taylor content (gif creds: @merakiaes)

Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Every woman that he knew brought him here. You want to teach him how forever feels. 2.6k words.

Warnings: so much crying why am i in a mood, fluff mostly!, song fic, song lyrics, pet names (poppet, dear), heartbreak, brief angst, ONE FUCKING CURSE WORD. jealousy, being stood up

1984

"your mother brought you up loyal and kind"

You'd been chasing the little red haired boy through the train station for the better part of the last ten minutes. But only because he tugged at your hair and stuck his tongue out at you. He started it. He's got this worn grey sweater, and you can tell his jeans were hand-me-downs from the patchwork in the knees. Probably from the boy, his older brother, with the wavy red hair carrying far too many books and stumbling up the train's steps.

Your antagonist giggles and ducks behind the brick pillar in the center of the station. You roll your eyes and round the otherside, tapping on his shoulder with a grin. He yelps and skitters away behind his mother. She has a small baby tucked in her arm and another cooing from a pram decorated with ribbons, lace, and wicker.

"Georgie!" She scolds him for tugging on her skirt before looking down to see your little face staring back at her. "Hello, dear, what's your name?"

The boy peeks his head out from behind her leg, round cheeks flushed a soft pink from all the running. You fold your arms over your chest and scowl at him.

"Determined little thing, aren't you?" she says with a sweet smile and kind eyes, "Have you been terrorizing this young lady?"

"It's not my fault, mum! She looks funny!"

"George. That's not how we talk about other people, now, is it?" she warns.

"No, mum."

"No, of course it's not. Now, you apologize this instant. Your brothers give me enough grief as is."

His wicked gaze meets yours, and you scowl hard as you can back at him. He squints. You purse your lips.

"I'm sorry because my mum told me so!"

You pout, "apology not accepted! I hope I never see you again!"

And with that, he watched the little girl with the wild hair and the polka-dotted pinafore skip away. Never to be seen again. Until the next year. And each year following the last.

1994

"teenage love taught you there's good in goodbye"

George has got a mouth full of the loudest bubblegum in existence when he comes roaring up behind you in the hallway, laying his arm across your shoulders.

"Evening, poppet. I assume you've heard the news," he chirps, smacking his gum in your ear proudly.

"You're disgusting, George," you say, shrugging his arm away but still matching his pace, "and I don't care that you bribed Niamh Ward into being your date to the Yule Ball."

"I didn't bribe her! She asked me and I said 'yes'"—he blows a gummy bubble in your face, and it bursts with a ringing pop—"D'you reckon she'll kiss me if I dance well enough?"

He twirls off down the hallway, ending his mini routine with a flourish of jazz hands.

"I don't reckon any girl will ever want to kiss you with moves like that."

"Oh, you're just a cynic. I'm perfectly snoggable, whether I can dance or not." He takes your wrist and drapes your arm in the crook of his own, and you scoff when he leans in to pop another bubble in your face. "Who's taking you to the ball, anyway? That Durmstrang halfwit?"

You yank your arm away and stop dead in your tracks. It's a well-known fact that you'd been waiting for George to ask you to the Yule Ball since first year. You thought for sure he'd ask you. But the time came and went and you each found other dates, other outfits, other plans. And you hate that deep down, a small part of you is still waiting for him to ask you. But you'd never do that to Niamh. Not even for George.

"As a matter of fact, yes," you say, "and his name is Johan—"

"What kind of name is Johan?"

He's still smacking his gum like he knows exactly how to get on your nerves. And after all these years, it's no wonder.

"You're so immature. I'll see you later."

"Oh, come on—"

"No, George," you huff, not turning around until you clear the corner and wipe your wet cheek with the sleeve of your robes.

...

The Great Hall has never looked more decadent. Draped in glitz and the magic of the holidays. Everyone's absolutely buzzing with excitement, ever-present gossip, and the beauty of students dressed to the nines. And in the midst of it all, you still spot him from across the room.

Of course, Johan is the perfect gentleman. He even asked if you'd like to match your gown to his traditional red dress robes. It was a lovely idea, and it wasn't hard to pick out a lovely chiffon, maroon dress. He said you looked beautiful and danced with you most of the night, but there was still that sickly ache in your chest like flesh and tendon left split by two cold hands. George's hands.

After you told Johan you didn't feel well, he left you alone at one of the shimmering tables. You felt bad practically leading him on, but it's not like you'd been lying about your attraction to him. Just about your attraction to George.

You don't turn to face the person who plops onto the stool beside you. You're pretty dedicated to flicking the thin straw around the rim of your glass at this point.

"I left my date to come talk to you, so you better have a stellar reason for looking so glum."

George. You know he's trying to cheer you up. And he knows it's not exactly working how he'd hoped. "Come on, poppet. It's the Yule Ball. You've been looking forward to this for, what, six years?"

He hates that when you turn to face him, you've got tears dripping from your chin, jaw, nose, lashes. He hates that there's a small part of him that wishes he could have fixed it for you.

"What's wrong?" he whispers, scooting closer and catching a slow tear slipping over your cheekbone. You flinch away and lean your head in your hand, closing your eyes.

"You have no idea."

George chortles and shrugs, "well, yeah. That's sort of why I'm asking." You land a hearty wallop on his arm, not even looking when you swing your fist at him. "Alright, that was deserved. Now, tell me. I don't like it when you shut me out."

"Why are you doing this, George? Why don't you just leave me alone? Go hang out with Niamh or something," you say. It's accusatory, sure, but that's the point. The inflection was aimed for the heart. Spear tipped with arsenic just to make it sting more.

He chews the inside of his cheek, rubbing the back of his neck when you dodge his gaze and sniffle.

"That might be a tad difficult seeing how she stood me up."

Shit.

"George, I didn't mean—"

"No, no, it's okay. She caught a... a stomach bug, or something. Spent all morning hunched over the girl’s toilet," he mumbles, loosening his tie. And you catch just the smallest smirk tugging the corner of his mouth. Like there's some kind of amusement in his own misery. "I feel bad for her, honestly."

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea." You grab his hand and lean closer. He looks tired up close. Like the light usually at home in his eyes as twinkled out and left him dimmed.

"You've nothing to be sorry for. Fate is fate, after all." He brushes his hair out of his face and takes a deep breath, squeezing your hand. "Dance with me?"

Yes, of course, you want to shriek. I'd love nothing more from the boy who used to yank on my hair and call me names and tell me he loved my sparkly shoes. An honor, you think, but the words don't reach. Just a smile.

"Sure," you say, letting him tug you in the direction of the crowd. The right direction, you think, the direction you've longed for. Then he spins you into his chest, and you feel the shallow rumble of his laugh in your fingertips.

"Was Johan a better dancer than me?" he says, swaying your bodies like tender obligation. You cock an eyebrow.

"Johan stepped on my toes every four steps and nearly tore my dress."

"...So?"

"Yes," you tease.

"Shut up. Let me make this dance a good one. For you."

You look up at him and he thinks he's never seen someone look so clueless and yet so completely beautiful. From the gloss on your lips to the gems on your shoes and even now, mascara smudged and hands shaky, he thinks he'd like to look at you for as long as you'll let him. And when you shuffle closer between songs, he has to catch his breath against your temple.

"Your hair's gotten so long, Georgie," you whisper, slipping your hand up and over his shoulder, to the back of his neck with a smile pressed to his warm cheek.

"Like it?"

"I’ll always like it."

He pleads to Merlin you can't feel the rattletrap pounding of his heart. His hand moves of its own volition, spread across the small of your back like he's seen in some romance films. The slow dance scene is always the most romantic. The pinnacle of their love thus far. The event to dissolve any prejudice leftover in their heads, and any pride hidden in the last cracks in their hearts.

"George, I have to tell you something important—"

"Shh, poppet, just dance with me a little longer."

And you suppose. It could wait that little while longer. Another dance. Another day. It'd come up again and break your heart, but it'd be too pressing to put off eventually.

So you let him hold your hand a little tighter, sway you in circles a little slower, and keep your heart beating a little louder.

1996

"every woman that you knew brought you here // i wanna teach you how forever feels"

The something important you had tried to tell George that night was that you'd be staying with your estranged aunt in Spain over the course of the next school year. Your final school year. You'd be leaving Hogwarts—leaving George—and spending the year homeschooling over in Spain.

You left that Spring to spend your days in the Spanish countryside, drinking in the sunshine and dancing to the music of the cicadas. It had devastated George. It had devastated all of the Weasleys. They were so used to housing you most summers, and the change was quite unwelcome. Less place settings, less baggage clunking up the stairs, less laughter. He could only hope you were happy. And that he'd be able to see you again one day in the future.

"Georgie?"

You caught him off guard. He nearly tripped and cracked a tooth on the steps when you called his name. He and his twin brother had made a spectacle of Ninety-three Diagon Alley in the time you'd been away. And you had just happened to wander in and find him hurrying up the technicolor stairs after his brother.

Nothing felt real when he met your eyes for the first time in a year and change. The sirens and bells and sparklers went fuzzy as he realized just how beautiful you'd gotten since he last saw you. Beautiful enough to make him wildly nervous. Enough to make him sweat.

"My Poppet." He says it gently, grinning when you bat your lashes and hold your arms out.

"Christ, I've missed you, George," you huff, burying your face in his shoulder when he wraps his arms around you.

"You have no idea."

You tease him with a laugh, "Well, yeah," pulling away to wrap your lithe fingers around his tie. "Look at your hair! It's so short!"

"Like it?" He runs his fingers through the scruff at the back of his head. You squint and pat the soft tufts at the top of his head.

"I love it. You know I do."

He sighs, ushering you to the back of the shop all while trying to conceal a giddy smile.

"I've had an entire year to reflect on all the reasons why you abandoned me, poppet. I made a list"—He takes your wrist and drapes your arm in the crook of his own—"Starting with that time I told you your unicorn shirt was quote, unquote, 'for babies'."

"You have to include my stunning defense, Weasley"—you clear your throat—"'I am a baby, and you're just a rotten little boy!'"

"How could I forget?" He pushes open a door to the very neglected office towards the back of the building. Papers stacked on the desk, a cobweb in the corner. Well-loved. "A little privacy, mademoiselle?"

"I'd be delighted."

He sweeps the dust off a brown leather chair by the desk, offering the seat to you with a shy smile.

"Oh, George," you whisper, fiddling with the clasp of your purse with watery eyes and a pout like the one you gave him the first time he saw you.

"Come here, sweetheart," he says, hurrying you into his embrace with the feeling of being gutted by your sad eyes weighing heavy on him.

"There's just so much"—you gasp and cover your mouth when you sob—"So much I've missed and so much I want to tell you and so much I wish I had seen and done with you..."

"I know. I know, I feel the same," he huffs, "I missed you more than words can describe. I didn't know what to do with myself."

"I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you, I thought—"

"No. No, poppet, of course not"—he holds you tighter, pressing you to the curves of his body, holding you like clay and hot glass—"You came back, that's all I could ever ask for."

You pull back and let him wipe the tears from your cheeks, leaving faint kisses on each temple. And when he finally tears himself away from your skin, he's only left desperate for the contact. His thumb brushes you cheek, and you hold his wrist, lashes fluttering to meet his soft gaze. Desperation. Exhaustion. Relief. It's all there in the palm of your hand, and just at his fingertips.

Twelve years is far too long to be loving anyone the way you love each other. Completely but without the parts of love we sometimes need most. The honesty and openness, the comfort, and more than ever, the kisses. He curses his wild eyes for sweeping the length of your parted lips. His wild eyes giving away his secrets and calling him a damned fool.

You catch his mouth with yours, innocent at first peck, but he kisses you back, unsure of where his hands should go, wanting perfection, especially when your nose bumps his and makes you smile into the wetness of the kisses.

"I want everything," you whisper, forced to choose between air and George, "I have loved you since the day we met."

"That's very cheesy, my dear." He rests his forehead against yours, cupping the side of your neck, thumb resting gingerly over the column of your throat. Just to hold something delicate. Fragile. His.

"Think you can do better?"

"Hmm," he clears his throat, "You stole my heart and... I don't think I want it back."

"Gross! You win."

"I meant it."

He winks and pecks your bottom lip sweetly, only to realize you're tearing up, head tilted back and hands fanning at your eyes. He holds your waist and you shake your head with a defeated laugh.

"I'm such a crybaby."

"My favorite."

"You're awful, Georgie."

"I know," he says, finally, "I know."

masterlist

#fanfic #fluff #hp universe #x reader #fanfiction #friends to lovers #george weasley fanfic #george weasley #george weasley fluff #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x reader #hp universe x reader #x fem!reader #Spotify

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awearywritersworld · 1 year

Text

A misunderstanding makes you feel insecure.

Haikyu x Reader w/c: 1.4k // 1.1k warnings: just a lil angst, but fluffy endings. a/n: back on my haikyu bullshit bc life is tough rn and i needed something pure and wholesome. post!timeskip, hurt/comfort, gender neutral reader characters: Tsukishima Kei // Kuroo Tetsuro

masterlist

Tsukishima Kei

When Tsukishima first met you in university, he had taken notice of you, though you didn’t really start talking until you were paired for a research assignment. While he was just a tad nervous when you invited him to your apartment to work on it, he didn’t mind as you lived nearby.

An observant person, Tsukishima soon took note of your little quirks, many of which he silently regards as endearing. Your eyes would widen, sparkling with interest as you stumbled upon new articles and discoveries during your research. You always brewed a fresh pot of tea and grabbed something extra at the bakery when you knew he was coming over.

When he told you he plays volleyball for the Sendai Frogs, he was taken aback by how interested you seemed. He informed you about his position and that he started playing because of his older brother. Pink dusted his cheeks when you asked if you could attend his next match, which he agreed to. During the match, a few of his teammates gave him nudges and sly smirks. "You just seem really into the game today, Tsukishima-kun."

Your friendship persisted even after your project had been turned in, and while Tsukki was surprised, he also found that he was relieved. He enjoyed your company, after all. The thought of parting ways with you made his heart skip a beat like some lovesick teenager.

Toward the end of the semester, you're approaching the lecture hall you share with Tsukishima when you spot him talking to one of your classmates, a girl. The sight makes your stomach flip and you freeze, watching their interaction from afar.

"I just wanted to give you this, Tsukishima-kun," she begins nervously, handing him a box of sweets wrapped in pink paper.

"Oh, thanks." His tone is unexpressive as ever.

"You play volleyball, right? Maybe I could come to watch you sometime!"

She's barely finished speaking before he responds, "sorry, but I don't really like having people come to my games. You know, focus and all..."

He trails off and she tries her best to recover. "O-Okay! No problem! I'll see you around."

She scurries away and you can just barely hear him grumble something about annoying admirers and wanting to be left alone. You realize you stopped breathing at some point and all you can think while you harshly exhale is 'oh, god.'

Over the past few months, you had certainly developed a crush on Tsukishima. You feel awful about having gone to quite a few of his games when, evidently, he must have found it irritating. You're staring into nothing with wide eyes when you hear your name being called.

Your head snaps in the direction it came from and your gaze meets Tsukishima's as he approaches you. He greets you as he usually does and you stutter out a reply. Walking into the classroom together, he's squinting at you out of the corner of his eye. It's clear to him that something is up.

"You okay?" he asks as you both slide into your usual seat beside one another.

"Of course!"

That's how the next few days pass--- he knows something is wrong and you pretend that everything is fine. You're quieter than usual and you haven't invited him to hang out at all. Since you're typically the one to take initiative, Tsukishima is left feeling a little lost.

When you don't come to his next game, he finally decides he's going to have to figure out how to resolve whatever is going on. It's already dark outside by the time the team finishes, but he still heads in the direction of your apartment.

With each step, he wracks his mind trying to figure out what the hell he's even going to even say. Did he do something wrong? Have you grown tired of him and his cynicism?

Standing in front of your apartment door, it occurs to him that you might not even be home. He knocks apprehensively and the door swings open a few moments later.

"Tsukki!" you squeak out.

You're in your pajamas, a sight he's never seen before, and it makes his mind go blank. He tries desperately to keep his eyes from trailing down to your thin top and flannel shorts.

"Can I come in?" he finally asks.

"S-sure!" you step aside. "I'll go get some tea started."

He can't help but smile as you hurry off, thinking you might be the cutest person he's ever met. Instead of making his way to the couch, he leans against the doorframe to the kitchen. "Do you need a hand?"

"That's alright, it'll just be a few minutes," you say, reaching up to a high shelf for a tin of tea leaves.

He's behind you in an instant, his body pressed to your back as he grabs the one he knows is your favorite. "This one, right?"

"Yeah, thanks!"

Shocked your voice doesn't betray you, your heart is now hammering in your chest with impossible force. He's still close behind you as he sets it down on the counter. Scratching the back of his neck nervously, he takes a step back.

Once you finish filling the kettle, he speaks up. "Is it okay if I ask you something?"

Setting it down on the stove and turning on the burner, you turn to give him your full attention. "Always."

The way you look up at him expectantly makes him swallow and clear his throat. "I was wondering if everything is okay?"

"What do you mean, Tsukki?"

"Um, you just haven't seemed like yourself the past few days."

He hopes his vague answer is enough, but you tilt your head to the side. "How so?"

If he didn't know any better, he'd think you were trying to torture him.

"Well, you've been less talkative," he nearly winces at how pitiful he sounds. "And then when you didn't come to my game tonight..."

He can't think of what else to say, cursing the way his cheeks heat up. You hardly notice though, too caught up in your own embarrassment and avoiding his eye.

"Oh, that!" you laugh nervously. "You see, I may have... overheard you talking to our one classmates the other day..."

The look on his face tells you he has no idea what you're referring to.

"She gave you a gift a-and asked to come to see you play, but you told her you didn't like when people came to your games." You're talking very quickly by this point. "I-I didn't want to annoy you-"

Tsukishima's eyes nearly pop out of his head in disbelief and he starts to laugh at the situation, but you think he's laughing at you. At first, he fails to notice that tears have begun to slip down your cheeks.

"I'm sorry Tsukki," you apologize, lip quivering.

That gets his attention right away, a look of horror taking over his features.

"No, no, no! I wasn't- I didn't mean to laugh!" His words are jumbled and he tries his best to slow them. "It's just that you're not people, you're... you."

"Oh," you say while wiping at your eyes, not quite yet processing the meaning behind his words.

You still seem so sad and it tugs at Tsukishima's chest, making him panic.

"I like you!" he blurts out and your watery eyes dart up toward his face. "I'm sorry, I thought I was more obvious about it than I was. I-I missed seeing you in the stands tonight and talking to you in class and coming over afterward and-"

He keeps rambling on and you think it might be the longest you'd ever heard the usually very matter-of-fact man speak for. He only stops when you start to giggle, your hand covering your mouth in an attempt to hide it.

The kettle suddenly whistles, breaking any sort of tension that might have lingered between the two of you. You swiftly remove it from the heat before turning back to him.

"I like you, too, Tsukki."

He breathes a sigh of relief, eyes flicking between each of your own. His honesty just moments ago has him surprised and while he'd usually be uncomfortable in a situation like this, oddly enough, he's not.

There's a ghost of a smile adorning his face and he spends a second just looking at you. 'You're... you,' he considers his words from earlier and knows that this is what he meant. You're different from most people. You make him feel at ease.

"You should call me Kei," he states simply, before moving to prepare the tea just the way he knows you like it.

Kuroo Tetsuro

One afternoon, Kuroo stopped by the coffee shop across from his office building downtown. Pulling the door open, he caught the reflection of a person around his age in the glass. As he moved so that he could hold it open for you, you thanked him with a small smile.

You caught his attention, dressed for some seemingly important job, your hair just a touch messy, but in a way that looked good. While you waited in line, he asked you about your day and his charming small talk left you a blushing mess.

You were in front of him in line, but once you finished telling the barista what you wanted, he stepped up to add his own drink to the order. "On me, of course."

Two years later, you're living together in a cozy apartment and you couldn't be happier. Kuroo is everything you could ever ask for--- charismatic, reliable, thoughtful. It was even his idea that the two of you go out for dinner after work every Thursday.

So when that day of the week finally rolls around, you finish your tasks for the day and head over to his nearby office to meet up. You get off the elevator on his floor and make your way down the hallway, noticing his door is open a few inches. You stop once you hear voices inside.

“Isn’t it hard having a partner, though? I mean, always having someone around, not being able to relax and do your own thing.”

The voice is unfamiliar and your head tilts to the side as you listen.

Your boyfriend chuckles, hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck. “I suppose they can be a lot sometimes.”

Inwardly, Kuroo reflects on your late-night bouts of energy when he’s half asleep, your ramblings about the newest show you’ve been watching (he truly does try his hardest to keep up), your habit of constantly asking him for reassurance even though you’re so far out of his league it’s unreal.

You can’t see the fond smile that bashfully plays on his lips or hear the thoughts running through his mind. Left with just his words alone, you deflate as you’re overcome by embarrassment. 'Well, he's not wrong,' you think.

“Then what’s the point?” the other person wonders.

You can’t bear to hear Kuroo's answer, so you move away from the door and attempt to swallow the lump in your throat. The fact that you’re about to burst into tears at his work, of all places, is probably why he thinks the way he does. A humorless laugh passes your lips as you berate yourself. You dip into the bathroom and force yourself to take a few deep breaths before anyone can see you.

If only you had waited a few moments longer, you would have heard Kuroo's response. "I figured out pretty quickly they could be a handful sometimes, but it's part of what made me love them, you know?"

"No, gross. Don't go all sappy on me, senpai," the young intern rolls his eyes.

It just makes Kuroo laugh, "you asked! Now get out of my office and go tell them you'd love to get dinner with them tonight."

The intern grumbles as he leaves, but Kuroo doesn't miss the grin tugging at his lips. "After you finish your work for the day, of course," the older man hollers from his seat.

Finally having composed yourself, you exit the bathroom, passing the intern and greeting him politely.

You knock once you reach the door to Kuroo's office and his eyes light up, "hey, sweetheart!"

His tie has already been loosened for the evening and his hair is a bit disheveled.

"Hey, Tetsu," you say sheepishly. Even now, he still makes your stomach flutter.

"I just need a few minutes to finish this up," he informs.

"Sure, take your time!"

You try your best to make your voice sound bright and move to take a seat on the couch that's tucked against the wall. Kuroo returns his attention to the computer, but he quickly realizes you're quiet. Weirdly quiet. He peeks over at you and you're just sitting there on your phone with a blank expression.

The soft clicking of his keyboard stops. He says your name and you hum in acknowledgment. "What's on your mind?"

You glance over to find that he's looking at you, his body leaning over his desk in your direction. The expression he wears is a gentle one. His obvious concern and the fact he's already picked up on your vexation are enough to arouse the emotions you'd hopelessly tried to bury earlier. In an attempt to hide your tears, you avert your eyes. The action immediately has Kuroo rising from his seat.

"Hey, hey, hey," he frets, sitting beside you and putting a hand on your knee. "Look at me, what happened?"

The sight of you like this makes his heart squeeze tightly in his chest and when you finally turn to him, his eyes are burning with worry.

"It's nothing, it's dumb," you dismiss, waving your hand.

"Sweetheart, don't say that. Something's got you all worked up." He brushes your hair behind your ear. "Talk to me."

"I-I'm sorry" you choke out.

"There's no reason to be-"

"I know I can be a lot sometimes," you add, wiping at your nose with your sleeve.

Realization and guilt descend upon him in tandem. "You heard-"

"Only some of it!" you clarify before he finishes, "I-I didn't mean to listen in on you, I just-"

He boops your nose, making your words stop in your throat. "You just didn't stay and listen to the part where I told him you it's what makes me love you so much."

He's got a little grin on his face, refraining (with some difficulty) from calling you a dork.

"You said that?"

He hums, "of course I did."

A moment passes and he can sense you're still feeling unsure of yourself, so he continues. "I can be passive and a bit... emotionally closed off at times. It makes me admire how expressive you are and how strongly you react to things, both good and bad."

Touched by his words, you feel all your anxiety ebb away, replaced by a warm feeling in the center of your chest. "Then you'll be happy to know that is perhaps the sweetest thing anyone has ever said and it makes my heart want to explode."

"Ah, see! There it is!" he beams and stands up, offering you his hand.

Once you rise to your feet, he places a kiss firmly on your temple.

"Alright, the rest of this can wait," he decides as he grabs his bag, turns off his computer, and slips his fingers through your own. "I'm all yours."

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wreckedandpolemic · 4 months

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helloo can you write something on actress readerxmatty? 👉👈

sorry u sent this 103747294 million years ago i Hope ur still around to see this

(minors dni) but i’ve had a problematic age gap celebrity reader idea bouncing around my mind palace for soo long like i'm picturing you're in your early twenties and on top of the world <3 just starred in your breakout role, it girl of the summer type stuff. and you're close friends with another younger artist matty's been working with, so you hear all these stories about him and 'i think you'd really like him, babe, honestly!' with a look. and, look, you're not not interested, but you just got out of a shitty relationship, and your career is really taking off, and– good god, he's hot.

he's visibly older than you, greying a little, all sharp lines and tattoos and vintage leather, a sly smile pulling at his lip when he catches you staring. he raises his glass to you, tilting his head in invitation. as if by some magnetic pull, your feet carry you into the seat beside him.

"hi," you say, waving down the bartender and ordering yourself a cocktail. "i'm a friend of thea's," you tell him, before he thinks you're some kind of stalker.

his mouth drops in an 'o' of recognition. "oh, shit," matty chuckles. "you're the girl from the... the film!" his face splits in a stupidly gorgeous grin, and you're sold, like you're a teenager with a crush all over again.

you raise an eyebrow, fighting to maintain your composure. "you saw it?"

"yeah," he says, eyes flickering down to your lips and sending a thrill skittering up your spine. "you were really good." from the way he's undressing you with his eyes, he's thinking about the shot of your tits. "i'm matty, by the way," he adds.

"i know," you grin. matty watches you curiously and you lean closer, turning your best bedroom eyes on him. he takes the bait, pink tongue flickering out to wet his lips unconsciously.

you expect him to be gone the next morning, expect the lingering memory of his hands on your skin to fade to a story you'll dramatise to your friends. and when his side of the bed is cold, you resolve to move on with your day, not to dither on your conversation, on his laugh, on his head between your thighs. then, he sticks his head around your door, hair mussed and dressed in nothing but boxers. you break into a smile, warmth flooding your chest. god, you really are like a teenager with a crush.

"morning, love," he grins, his voice low and thick with sleep. "where d'you keep your coffee?"

you blink in disbelief, the mundane, domestic question an impossibility rattling through your cynical mind. "it's, uh..." you sit up, raking a hand through your tangled hair. "i'll show you."

you spend the summer falling wildly, dramatically in love, like something out of one of your early, low-budget indie films. but, leaves change, summers end, real life comes creeping back in. you're shooting on location through september, thousands of miles away on a packed schedule, practically tearing your hair out trying to find time for him between filming and interviews and reshoots and whatever the fuck else is grappling for your attention.

the sky is overcast when you land. fitting. your co-star is a tall, blond, all-american type. the kind of man your fans, your agent, and even your parents are falling over themselves to see you date. so, naturally, you hate him. he's brash, abrasive in a way that's supposed to be charming but just comes off self-aggrandising. you grit your teeth and smile through it – you love your job, and you're having fun with the movie, but every second you spend playing at falling in love in soft, sunny los angeles makes you ache for sharp, rainy england and the man waiting there for you.

it's october by the time you get a few days to yourself, driven to distraction by tinny phone calls and grainy facetimes and nothing but your hand between your legs. you've been shooting the same kiss scene from a dozen angles for hours, desperately aggravated by your co-star's grin every time you pull apart, like he's just waiting for you to fall for him, and by knowing that matty is somewhere over the atlantic right now, inching closer by the second.

you're unfocused, and you can tell you're throwing the shoot, wasting daylight. ultimately, you're only prolonging your suffering (bit dramatic, but, hey, that's what you're paid for), but you've never been more grateful to have a director glare directly at you while wrapping. you nod dutifully as he gives his notes, the words going in one ear and straight back out the other, chased out by the singular thought circling your brain: in a few hours, none of this is going to matter because you'll have matty back.

you book it to the hotel, practically diving into the shower to to scrub yourself clean of your co-star's spidery hands. matty texts you that he's landed, and your body hums with anticipation as you get dressed. well, 'dressed' might be a stretch. a scrap of white lace clings to your waist, the matching babydoll dress doing nothing to protect your dignity. smirking to yourself, you snap a photo of your garter belt and the stockings clipped on, and send it to him. hurry please xx, you add. his reply is immediate. fuck. you're killing me.

the minutes tick by agonisingly slowly, every second weighing on you like a physical pain. finally, after what feels like hours, there's a soft tap at your door. you fluff your hair in the mirror, wiping at a smudge in your lipgloss with a thumb. taking your time while knowing matty's only feet away from you is excruciating, but there's still something delicious about making him sweat. he knows it too, playing your game and waiting instead of using his own key.

the moment you open the door, his mouth is on yours, hungry, open-mouthed kisses stealing the breath from your lungs. you luxuriate in the taste of him, familiar and intoxicating. "thank god," you mutter against his lips as he pulls away. "i was starting to forget what being kissed is supposed to feel like." something dark glitters in his eyes, spurring you on. "spent all day with that prick trying to chew my face off."

"well," he begins, jealousy scraping in his tone. "i guess we'll have to find a way to help you forget, then."

"mmm, is that so?" you whisper, taking a calculated step back. "how are you gonna do that, healy?"

the words die in his throat at the sight of you, his gaze burning as it roams over every inch of your skin, arousal pooling in your core and dripping between your legs. "you look..." he fumbles for words as you grin.

"i know."

#trying out this format idk how i feel #theres a million ideas for how to continue this bouncing around my brain rn im just putting some feelers out for how u guys like it #suggestions welcome Of course #literally wrote this on a whim in my drafts in 2 sittings hfkdsjsk #matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #matty healy #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #writing #actress!au #anonymous #request #requests #blurb

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