#ha jokes on the world for thinking i deserve this and they gave it away to me anyway

[hiraya-rawr]

What is your quote of the day?

No quote of the day, but the quote of my life is basically– if you feel undeserving of anything. . . who said you have to deserve it?

#own up to it like a spoiled brat #maybe i dont deserve love or awards or success #but i managed to get some anyway #whats am i gonna do about it #instantly cured my imposter syndrome #i used to struggle receiving anything #now im just #ha jokes on the world for thinking i deserve this and they gave it away to me anyway

[neo-nomatrix]

10 Things I hate about you

Hobie brown x reader

word count: 1120

(My) Nuisance masterlist

Synopsis: You have hated your neighbor for one year, 3 months, and 8 days. You hate his hair, his boots, his obnoxious music, and most of all you hate the way you love him

a/n; This is the last part of the main (My) Nuisance story! Other installments will be on parters about reader and Hobie before and after the main plot. Thank you to everyone who loves this story it means the world to me!

Being neighbors with Hobie has been one of the most frustrating, exhausting, and confusing experiences of your life. He has truly put you through hell and back.

1. I hate the way you talk to me and the way you do your hair.

If someone had told you one year ago you would be completely head of heels for Hobie you most likely would have laughed in their face. If someone had told you he was the man under Spider-punk's mask you would have jumped off a bridge right then and there. Yet here you are, searching your brain for answers about Hobie and his feelings wondering what you got yourself into.

2. I hate the way you lie to me and your stupid boot buckles.

The unbearable truth was, Hobie got to you. Most importantly he hurt you in the process. You weren’t supposed to get close to him, you weren’t supposed to fall in love with him but you did. He had completely forgotten about the night before and it hurt you more than anything. You genuinely thought he liked you, as luck would have it he confessed to you that he was a compulsive liar when he drank too much. Leading you into realizing he didn’t mean it, why would he? He seemed like the type who would flirt with you just as a fun game, you didn’t know what you were expecting.

3. I hate you so much it makes me mad, it makes my head spin, my stomach ties into knots, makes me weak in the legs.

Was that what this was? A sick joke? A game to him? Just thinking about that made you want to scream at him. Yell at him, tell him how angry you were with the fact that he played with your feelings. You wanted to scream at him and give him a piece of your mind. Yet you couldn’t. You have always been able to yell at Hobie, always. Even over dumb things like the way he talked. But now, it’s different. You wanted to get up and yell at him but you stayed sitting on the ground. Legs to your chest and you just sat there. Unable to move, frozen in that position.

4. I hate it when you’re out all night drinking and the way it makes me worry, worry so much that I stay up all night waiting to hear your stupid boots.

You hear a knock at the door and know it’s him. Of course it’s him, in your time living here he was the only person to ever knock on your door.

“Love? I- I want to talk to you. Can you let me in?” He asked, his voice quiet.

5. I hate your stupid smile and the way you purposefully play your guitar too loud just so i’ll come over.

He takes your silence as an answer, he’s about to say something and then pauses.

“When you were in my room you found a box. It had your stuff in it and a letter. I wrote the letter for you. You deserve to read it. I have your necklace and ring too, sorry bout that,” he gave you an awkward laugh.

“No, I shouldn't have even known about it,” you’re surprised you could even speak to him, “I don’t want to read it either,” you say quickly.

“You have a right to know what it says, okay? At least let me tell you.”

6. I hate that you were so easy to fall in love with.

A few seconds after he finished talking he turned the doorknob and walked into your flat.

“I don’t know what I said to you last night but I'm sorry. Whatever-“ you cut him off before he can finish.

“Don’t. I know you didn’t mean it so don’t. It doesn’t matter now I'm over it,” you brush him off.

“So uhm, what did i say exactly?” He questions

“I said it doesn’t matter, piss off!” you snap.

You both look away from each other, unable to speak.

7. I hate the way you hurt me and the way you made me get close to you. It would be so much easier to despise you if you weren’t so handsome.

“The letter talks about how much I love you, alright? Ever since the day we met and you gave me that stupid note I have been in love with you. You really don’t see the way I look at you? Or- or how I'm extra loud when I know you're trying to sleep? I would do anything just to look at you, that is how in love I am with you. I don’t know if you’re really just clueless or you’re trying to ignore the signs but I am pulling every string to try and make you fall in love with me. Is that what you want to hear?” He’s out of breath by the time he finishes. Tears are brewing in the corner of his eye.

8. I hate it when you say exactly what I want you to say.

“Yeah, actually it kind of is. You told me that it hurt when I didn't show up for our date. I thought you did like me, but then you said you lied when you were drunk. And I don't know why but I believed you,” You confess.

9. I hate it when we don’t talk and the way you make me feel. I hate that I didn't understand those stomach knots were me falling in love.

“No no no, I thought I said something that would upset you. Of course I meant that, Love,” he said, holding your face in his hands. The cold metal of his rings touching you.

“You mean that?” you ask.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything else,” he smiles. God that stupid smile.

“You also, kind of told me something else. You said you were uhm, Spiderman?” you nervously asked.

He visibly tensed up.

“Oh that, well I guess there’s no point in lying huh?”

“So you are?”

“Yeah, for the last three years. But I don’t believe in labels, they’re stupid,” he shrugs

“That’s pretty embarrassing for me then, hm?” you look around your spiderman themed room.

“Nah, I think it’s pretty cute,” he says, making you blush.

“Why don’t we start over? We can go out on a proper date, forget any of this happened. I promise, no standing each other up and we’ll be so happy,” He says, grinning ear to ear.

“Alright then, where should we go?”

10. You especially hate the way you don’t hate him at all. You don’t like him either. You love him. You’re in love with Hobie Brown, your nuisance.

Taglist: @clown420cunt @good-so @anonima-2 @ghOst-spider @miracleboylene @natthernandez @frenchbaddie @loislucky @juo6uvr @gaychaosgremlin @skiedrr @the-golden-goldie @hellok1ttycake @theleftkittycollection @xbI00dy-rOs3x @diamondroxypie @erensbbg @change-up-lozers @persondoingstuff @thepjofanqueen @eli-pitch-does-art @naarraa @pascaliscult @regulus-black-223048 @couchpotato2006 @anonoussy @bruhhvv @miyalou13 @meowmeowmau @michael-21stfu @yeyrpp2 @panicosis @yuli3tt @omgitstatertot @bythe-water-fountain @lIstarx @landrysg @yn-hamato @fisshil @peaktora @thatmaladaptivedaydreamer @urmotherswhor3 @hunniiebe @ashjustlikesthings @imthesadsad @spiderpunkzgf @single2dsimp @anonymousfleshbag @aesolane @gloomdoomraccoon @nightshxdex @kenstan

*If your user wasn’t tagged and showed up as just text it’s because you have something changed in settings

#marvel x reader #spiderman atsv x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spiderman x y/n #hobie brown x y/n #hobie x reader #hobie x you #hobie brown x reader #atsv hobie #hobie my beloved #hobie spiderverse #hobie brown x you #hobie brown #spiderpunk x y/n #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk x you #spiderman x reader smut #atsv x reader #spiderman atsv x you

[aledmorningstar]

╰┈➤Bad joke

Summary: Sukuna discovers that you don't like jokes.

Relationship: Ryomen Sukuna/Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Note: Slow updates, my editor and I are in a fight with my university administrators.

-‘๑’-: No curses au, uni au, sfw, humor, fluff, slight angst

The terrible hours of class had finally ended, the hard day of university had culminated its torture at 6:00 pm, every day you reconsidered the idea of ​​continuing studying so intensely, did you really need that university degree?

Without a doubt, life sounded more beautiful in an imaginary world, being a pretty housewife who patiently waited for her millionaire husband who loved her madly, your days would be spent helping your children with their homework and wasting an unreasonable amount of money on any whim.

“We've told you to stop daydreaming, it could be dangerous in the wrong places.”

Your daydream was interrupted by one of your best friends, it seemed like your group of friends had already finished putting away their belongings and were just waiting for you to leave the classroom.

"Oh I'm sorry. I was just thinking about the future."

“Is the young lady returning to the fantasy of married life with her impolite boyfriend?”

"Hey! I already told you not to talk about him like that."

You argue while you put your notebooks and computer in your bag, the one that your boyfriend Ryomen had given you on your birthday even though you told him that a gift was not necessary, you knew how difficult it must be for him and how limited which can sometimes be the money in your situation; his mother, playing the role of both parents and trying to provide a bright future for her children; Yuji, his twin who had to complete several courses to be a firefighter and also study a Bachelor's degree in automotive mechanics; and finally Ryomen himself, who had to complete his university career as a lawyer.

It was definitely not easy for him or his family, unlike you, who had lived the life of a princess in an imaginary bubble impenetrable by the dangers and worries of reality. Even though you had insisted on helping that modest family financially, you were not allowed to do so. Both Sukuna and his brother and mother refused to accept a cent of your generous support, saying that they did not want to take advantage of your kindness. That did not stop them from you gave expensive gifts to each one on special dates.

Maybe that was the reason behind that expensive gift from your boyfriend, one day he simply listened to you talk about that beautiful designer bag that was going to become fashionable with its next release on sale, he used all his savings and even did part-time jobs, washing cars, walking dogs, helping model clothes for the fashion design department; just to be able to see a cute and excited smile on your face.

You are a princess, the most beautiful flower he could find and of course he would give you everything you deserve, everything that fine society has given you and he does his best so that you do not have any lack by his side, to be worthy of you.

You didn't have the heart to tell him that you had pre-ordered that bag thanks to your father's contacts and that you had to refund it, angering some merchants for their wasted efforts.

“Hurry up, if we don't get to the cafe on time the tables will be full.”

Like every Friday you and your friends got together to talk about the latest news in your lives, your social circle was mostly made up of girls just as privileged as you, it wasn't difficult for your father to convince you to choose a career in law, much less make you enter one of the most demanding and prestigious schools in the country.

Your friends are good girls, you knew that otherwise you wouldn't have even looked at them; However, like you, they were overprotected and followed the sophisticated rules that society had imposed on them. This was one of the reasons why they didn't quite agree with your relationship with Ryomen Sukuna, a commoner in their eyes.

Like any conversation between friends, the topic of boys and relationships could not be avoided, a topic in which you came to light with your strange relationship of “opposite poles”, the little princess of the city and the delinquent of the campus, it was the funniest and most interesting experiment your friends could witness.

“So… How is our little princess's relationship going? Did he already ruin it?”

Of course there were going to be silly comments that doubted that your relationship was authentic and that waited for the slightest mistake from your boyfriend to shout in your face “I told you so.”

"No and he won't, you don't know my 'kuna"

“We know his history”

Even though all your friends were always supportive and kind to you, there was one in particular who wasn't very nice. Ann, always making sarcastic comments and believing herself to be better than everyone, everyone could see how jealous she was of you; She had been the last to join the group, one day you saw her alone and decided to integrate her into your group, unfortunately you never found the words to tell her that you no longer wanted to be her friend.

“Come on, darling, everyone here remembers how your relationship began.”

“He has changed, he is not the same person he was before, he is a new man”

Sure, your relationship may not have started off in the most convincing way possible, there were lies, misunderstandings and a lot of tears, but everything is different now. Now you have the romance that any girl could dream of, one full of love, affection and trust of those you only find in books, you would have your happily ever after.

“Well, I'll wait for your bad boy to do one of his things and don't say I didn't warn you.”

"When pigs fly, that's not going to happen"

The atmosphere had frozen in an awkward silence as you and Ann exchanged a big forced smile, it was strange to see you angry because of your sweet personality, but it would certainly be even stranger not to see you jump into an argument that included Ryomen Sukuna's name, you are his unofficial lawyer.

“Okay girls, let's talk about something else…”

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

You love Fridays, the best day of the week, since you could sleep over at your loved one's house and enjoy the weekend in his arms watching movies, doing puzzles, taking photos, listening to music, talking, watching videos, going out on dates, ordering takeout or even when he played a video game on the console and you were left coloring the pictures he printed for you (sometimes he needs his space).

That Friday the drawings were finished quickly, so you decided to watch some videos on your tiktok while Sukuna played a video game that you only knew had weapons because of the shots. The videos on your fyp were about pranks between couples (something that amused you), some light and others a little harsh.

Sukuna was someone who was a joker, someone who liked to make jokes but couldn't stand having one played on him; However, you were a couple, a slight joke between you could be kind of funny, it wasn't even a funny joke you just wanted to see how funny his reaction could be.

A message made Sukuna's phone ring, you thought it was the perfect time for your little act as you held back your laughter.

“Who is sending you so many messages? You have another girl, right?”

Your comment surprised Sukuna slightly, you weren't the jealous type, he looked at you for a split second and that was enough for him to know you were joking, he can play too.

"Oh my love. It's not even one girl, they´re five precious ones."

The amused smile that adorned your face disappeared in an instant, being replaced by a strange grimace, your eyes glistening from the tears that formed and that you refused to let go as you bit your trembling lower lip, preventing any sound.

"Really?"

“Of course, pretty. I'm too cool to stay with just one girl."

Memories of your conversation with Ann invaded your mind, Sukuna Ryomen had a past that was difficult to overcome, would he really change overnight for you?

Your boyfriend quickly realized that you had started packing your belongings back into your suitcase, why would you do that? The plan was that you would stay with him like every weekend, what was happening?

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

Well, you had dropped a little bomb that exploded in your face and you didn't like it, but you wouldn't let him notice that it dealt a low blow at least for you.

“I'm just putting my things away. “Can you pass me my colored pencils?”

Sukuna decided to make the difficult decision to abandon his game and pay attention to the seemingly serious situation that was occurring with his beloved.

He did as you asked, you put away your colored pencils next to your other belongings with quick movements and finally wrote something furiously on your phone.

“I asked you a question, what are you doing?”

“Nothing… I'm asking my driver to come pick me up.”

"Now?"

“Yes, now. In fact I'm writing to him 'Please hurry up, I want to leave here right now, come as fast as you can'”

You could barely feel the force and speed with which Ryomen snatched the phone from your hands, he stood up and placed your phone on one of the highest pieces of furniture in the living room.

"Why would you do that?"

"What do you mean why? Did you hear what you said earlier?”

The hardest question you can ask a man, ask him the reason why his girlfriend was angry. The pink-haired man's reasoning quickly went to work.

Connect the dots, you had gotten angry within a period of 5 minutes, you weren't angry with him before that time, all he had done was play video games. Had that bothered you? No, he had given you drawings of your favorite characters to entertain you, the only thing he had done besides playing had been answering your joke... Oh.

“Ah, that's it.”

“Is that all you will say?”

Okay, a mental note for Sukuna: You like making jokes, you don't like having them made or returned to you. You're a crybaby, but he still loves you.

“Sorry, love, it was a joke. You know that I only love you, you are the only girl who occupies my heart, the owner of my soul and my body, I would kill for you, ask me to kill for you."

Ryomen approached to hug you from behind, he placed one of his hands on your abdomen and one on your shoulder, crossing your chest to bring you closer to him, you could feel his breath on your neck and after a few seconds you shivered from the kisses he gave you. he left on your cheek.

“I didn't find your joke funny.”

“In my defense, you started joking that I had another woman. You’re a baby, jokes aren’t your thing, darling.”

The look on your face made him feel like he had just kicked a puppy, his solution was to carry you back to the couch and hold you in his arms.

"I'm sorry baby. You can choose the movie we watch today, deal?”

"Deal"

⋆·˚ ༘ *🔭 master list is here

#aledthinks #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jujustsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna #drabble #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk sukuna #sukuna #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #fluff

[forlix]

𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠・h.h.

— you're uninviting, there's no doubt about that, your resolve like unpolished diamond and tongue like broken glass. but hyunjin finds you're not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are.

words・11.1k

pairing・idol!hyunjin x female stylist!reader (inspired by this)

genres・fluff, angst, eventual smut so MDNI, some hurt/comfort, some humor, mc is a bad bitch and hyunjin is a #simp, enemies? to lovers, sexual tension, workplace relationship, mutual pining, slow burn, nonlinear narrative

warnings・reader vividly remembers an anxiety attack, alcohol is consumed, lots of compartmentalization and imperfect communication, complex people feeling complex emotions, smut warnings under the cut

playlist・farewell, neverland by txt・like crazy by jimin・black friday by tom odell・collide by justine skye・crying lightning by arctic monkeys

a/n・call me victor frankenstein bc i've given birth to a MONSTER (except i actually love and care for mine ofc). this was easily the greatest challenge of my fanfiction-writing career and it feels like my magnum opus; i hope it's worth the wait! also a huge shoutout to sahar for being my voice of reason and my biggest supporter :’) i don’t deserve u i love u

smut warnings・cunnilingus, overstimulation, creampie (practice safe sex!!), mild dacryphilia

Present day. Cannes, France. 5:54 P.M.

You’ve long made peace with the fact that Hwang Hyunjin is incapable of shutting up for more than five minutes.

As it is, the man has a mouth that runs like a cross-country marathon; then throw in his uncanny aptitude for annoying you, and what do you get? A nonstop slew of terrible jokes and teasing quips, tailored according to his thorough mental manual of what gets under your skin hardest and fastest.

This is the reality you live in, presumably because you were evil in your past life, and you’ve steeled yourself to see it through.

But twenty minutes have passed since you and Hyunjin ducked into the back of a cab and gave the driver the show’s address—and, as stunning as the red rooftops and lazuline coastline of Cannes are, you find you’re more interested in Hyunjin’s peculiar silence.

You move your gaze to his face. He’s looking outside, his chin resting upon the palm of his hand, the afternoon sunlight dusting over his chiseled features like polish on pottery; his complexion an exuberant gold against the cream-colored linen that makes up his clothing.

Maybe it’s because you opted for a simpler makeup look today, leaving the most telling contours of his face warm and bare, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent the last year committing his every mannerism and expression to memory. Nevertheless, you see through his pursed lips and tight brow right away.

“Nervous?” 

Hyunjin’s head swivels towards you with a small snap, like he’s forgotten you’re here. His lips fall open, their glossy peach color glinting with the small shift.

“No,” he replies reflexively, but then his facade flickers. “Fuck, maybe a little. It’s just hard to believe, you know?”

You do know. It was a huge honor for both of you when Hyunjin was named the newest global ambassador of Versace. For you to be attending the brand’s pop-up show in one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, among some of the world’s most prolific creatives, is truly incomprehensible. Even you’ve been feeling antsy since you landed; you can only imagine Hyunjin’s anxiety.

You have never been good at consolation. You think your mouth is too coarse, your propensity for honesty too strong. But you’ve always known just what to say when it comes to him.

“Just remember who you are.”

Hyunjin takes a few seconds to process your words, but his understanding washes over his whole body; straightens his back; hardens his gaze. You don’t see this change in posture, though. You’re too busy looking anywhere else, all of a sudden feeling quite embarrassed.

Nor do you see the private smile that disperses across Hyunjin’s lips; his eyes softening so, so marginally when they peer at your profile; his hand twitching where it rests on his knee, as if contemplating reaching for you with a mind of its own.

Thirty seconds. That is the amount of time you have left to bask in this otherworldly tranquility. And then he speaks.

“I want you to meet my parents.”

Your arm reacts before your mind can. Without having to turn your head an inch, you smack him squarely in the bicep, sending him crumpling against his door with a bark of a laugh; “please,” he adds, and you’re biting back a smile as you hit him again, with less conviction this time.

The cab driver nearly misses an exit, too busy wondering about the peculiar pair in his backseat and the nature of your relationship. He can’t tell if you hate each other or if you’re married.

One year ago. Seoul, South Korea. 8:42 A.M.

“I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me.”

“For my newborn daughter.”

“Yeah, okay. I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me for your newborn daughter. What does that brat have that I don’t?”

“My genes, to begin with.”

“That’s unfair. She’s using—”

An important-looking pair of women step out of the nearest elevators, the clacking of their heels ricocheting sharply off the lobby walls. Hyunjin straightens his back so quickly he thinks he pulls a muscle. He and Seojun incline their heads in perfect sync, their “good morning”s prim and professional.

“She’s using cheats,” Hyunjin hisses the second the women are out of earshot again, and this wrests a laugh from the older man at last.

Around one month prior, Seojun confided in Hyunjin that he and his partner were expecting their first child soon, and that he would be putting his career on indefinite hiatus to welcome her into the world.

Hyunjin had never felt so conflicted in his life. On one hand, he’d grown closer to his stylist over the last two years than he’d thought possible, and he knew it was stupid to be anything but delighted for him and his expanding family. On the other hand, it was precisely because they’d become so close that he wanted to grab the man by the ankles and shake the decision clean out of his body. He couldn’t imagine a dressing room or tour bus without him.

Today is a Saturday, but it’s also Seojun’s last day with the company. Hyunjin dragged himself to the JYP building at half past eight with much less reluctance than he let on. He wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

“Fourth floor,” Seojun instructs after the pair enter the elevator, and Hyunjin presses a knuckle to the according number. “Thanks.”

The doors slide shut; the floor numbers tick upwards.

“What was her name again?” Hyunjin asks.

“Y/N,” Seojun returns. “Y/L/N.”

“Is she here already?”

“No, she’ll be here at nine.”

There’s a small pause. 

“Hyung.”

“Hm?”

“I feel like I’m being married off to another family for political reasons.”

“God, I can’t wait to be free of your theatrics.”

At this, the two men make eye contact; exchange smiles. The elevator announces their arrival to the fourth floor, and they step through the doors.

“You’ll be in good hands,” Seojun reassures. “She’s the best of the best. I hear she’s basically running the industry these days. I’m surprised she agreed to take you on.”

“I’m surprised an old fry like you knows someone like her,” Hyunjin replies, and the look Seojun gives him is so withering that he thinks he pulls a muscle again with his apologetic bow.

“You’re not wrong, though,” Seojun concedes. “We happened to work on the same project back when she was still a small name, and we’ve kept in touch ever since. She’s a great kid. Ambitious, hardworking, strong as hell—”

They arrive outside their destination, and Hyunjin holds open the door to the conference room. Only to find that Seojun has stopped in his footsteps, temporarily stunned by a new realization.

She reminds me of him.

“He’s forgotten how to walk,” the him in question whispers like he’s narrating a nature documentary, and the moment is over. “Is this what fatherhood does to a man?”

Seojun kicks Hyunjin into the room by the seat of his pants.

The minutes pass slowly. Seojun moves his eyes between the door and his phone every few seconds, visibly antsy about the imminent meeting. In the meantime, Hyunjin makes the groundbreaking discovery that these office chairs are absurdly and almost suspiciously comfortable. All it takes is a chin upon his palm and a few seconds of shut-eye, and he’s suddenly slumped over the table, snoring softly into the crook of his elbow.

At 8:57, Seojun’s phone lights up with a new notification. At 8:58, he notices that Hyunjin is asleep, and closes his hand around the crumpled receipt in his pocket. At 8:59, he scrunches said receipt into a ball and launches it in Hyunjin’s direction. It hits him squarely on the head, and the boy is nearly knocked to the floor like a bowling pin.

“For that,” Hyunjin sputters, “I’m the godfather.”

“Absolutely the hell not.”

Then, it is 9:00.

When the door of the conference room opens, Hyunjin is still trying to gather his wits, wondering if the bastard is leaving the makeup industry to secretly pursue a career in professional basketball. He just barely notices the unfamiliar figure who steps into his line of vision.

“There she is,” Seojun greets warmly, rising to his feet right away. “God, how long has it been? Two, three years now?”

You’re not doing anything remarkable when Hyunjin sees you for the first time, simply walking across the room and bowing graciously in Seojun’s direction, but he is immediately under the vague impression that you’re cutting through space as you move, scorching the particles of air that dare obstruct your path. 

With his head cocked slightly to the left, like a fascinated puppy, Hyunjin watches the stunning smile that forms on your lips when you take Seojun’s hand; your finger as it tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear with the elegance of rippling silk. His mind feels impossibly slow, like you’ve tapped open his skull and robbed him of his ability to think.

Then, you toss Hyunjin a look over your shoulder, and he’s reminded of lightning forking towards the earth. Terrifying, volatile, beautiful.

“Something like that,” you say, turning back to Seojun, and time starts to move again. “It’s great to see you again, Mr. Lee. Congratulations on the baby.”

“Please, Seojun is fine,” he answers hastily. “And thank you. Thank you for all of this, actually. I can’t tell you how excited we are to have you.” 

“You’re too kind—I’m excited too.”

Upon uttering the word “we,” Seojun delivers Hyunjin a fleeting side-eye; he takes the hint and pushes himself to his feet, feeling uncharacteristically clumsy as he moves towards you.

The second time he meets your gaze, it feels wrong, almost, for him to hold it for as long as he does. Like he’s approaching your throne with his chin held high and eyes fixed forward instead of his head sweeping the ground.

Except he swears he senses a strange warmth within the rings of your irises, and he spends every second of eye contact following, chasing it, almost craning his neck with how badly he wants to get a closer look. Until he’s as close to you as is socially acceptable for a first meeting and comes to a halt.

He ends up losing its trail, but he won’t forget that it’s there. 

“My client, I’m guessing?” You say, extending your hand. “Y/N. It’s a pleasure.”

Your fingers are freezing cold where they meet his, and Hyunjin already knows that melting the permafrost that coats your flesh and guards your soul will be the tallest task of his life.

But he finds his next words accompanied by an involuntary smirk; he’s nothing, if not tenacious.

“Hyunjin,” he returns. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

Nine months ago. Paris, France. 6:16 P.M.

Hyunjin isn’t sure why—maybe you forget that he can still steal glances at your reflection over your shoulder or through the gaps of your fingers—but he’s learned over the last four weeks that you’re different, gentler, when you’re doing his makeup.

Your cold hands request instead of demand that he angle his head a certain way or suck in his cheeks. Your syllables are rounder somehow, your voice never traveling above a murmur. Even your eyes mellow out when you move in really close, your pupils dilating as you detail the final touches to the fresco you’ve painted upon him.

Your expression doesn’t give you away (it never does), but his hunch is that there’s a sprinkle of doting somewhere among the intense focus. That would explain why he feels like a flower in the moments when your fingertips and gaze move so carefully over his skin, like you’re touching his petals, trying not to tear them.

Too bad you never let him daydream for long.

“Close.”

“Huh?”

“Your eyes. Close them.”

His lashes have hardly brushed his lower lids when you begin to empty what feels like an entire bottle of setting spray on him. At the moist surprise, Hyunjin’s features scrunch up around his nose and he lets out a distraught hack like an old man.

A few seconds later, the barrage stops, and he cracks open a wary eye to scope out his surroundings. You wait until he does this to give his face one last spurt.

“Witch,” Hyunjin mutters, clawing back up the vanity chair.

“Thank you,” you reply, completely earnestly.

And whatever Hyunjin was going to say next suspends instantly on his tongue when you bring the pad of your thumb to the very edge of his lower lip and drag it across the soft flesh. He wonders if you know how hard he tries not to look at your mouth whenever you tend to his. He wonders if there’s anything you don’t know.

“You smudged your lipstick already.” There’s a small streak of coral pink on your hand when it falls back to your side. “See? That’s why we need the setting spray.”

“Uh huh.” And Hyunjin spots a ghost of a smile flit across your face, gone nearly as soon as it appears. The only evidence of it ever existing is the quickened heartbeat it leaves behind within him.

“You’re done, by the way,” you say, stepping aside. “Take a look.”

He slips out of his seat and moves closer to the vanity, peering at his reflection as curiously as if he’s never seen it before. But that’s how he’s felt since he started working with you.

Seojun was right: you are the best that the makeup industry has to offer. Hyunjin has come to understand this for multiple reasons. Your phone screen is incessantly illuminated by new notifications and incoming calls. The other stylists heed your advice like it’s the law. Brushes and pencils move like water when it’s you maneuvering them. And then some.

He would call what you have “talent,” but he knows it’s more than that. You show him a new version of himself every time you turn a mirror in his direction, like there are facets of him that are visible to you and you only. As much as he delights in the notion that you have such intimate knowledge of him, it should be impossible, considering you’ve only known him for two months. So no, it’s not just talent that you possess. It’s some combination of talent, hawkish perception, and raw artistry that is utterly inhuman—and sexy as fuck.

Speaking of sexy. Hyunjin’s look is relatively rudimentary tonight, the makeup light, the outfit a simple black tank top beneath a jacket and pants made of bright red velvet. But it’s the details that tie the whole thing together: the wide, loose sleeves causing the jacket to slip continually off his shoulders; the inner layer tight in all the right places. His face doesn’t look half bad either, with the sultry carmine powder that fringes his eyes and the intentionally mussed state of his hair. He pushes a hand through the dark locks, regarding himself with thorough appreciation.

You appear in his periphery as you start cleaning up your work station. “You can just take the jacket off when your sweat glands start malfunctioning, by the way. I thought you’d appreciate that detail.”

At this, his smize cracks into a laugh, the sound loud and uninhibited and uniquely yours to hear. “You suck.”

He looks away from his reflection just in time to glimpse another of your phantom smiles, and he thinks it’s so painfully on brand that the two times it’s appeared tonight have both been from you making yourself laugh. You might be the most insufferable person he’s ever met. He might be obsessed with you anyways.

“Well?” You implore. “What do you think?”

“No notes.” 

It’s the answer you’re expecting. You survey him from head to toe one last time, decide that you, too, are satisfied, and slip your makeup into your bag; hike its strap over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you after the show, then.”

You have an important conference call to attend before tonight’s concert, hence why Hyunjin had to come in early for hair and makeup. This is also the reason why the two of you have been the only people in the dressing room for the better part of an hour. 

It’s rare that he ever gets you alone, and he doesn’t want it to end. Not just yet.

“I lied, actually,” he calls. “I do have notes.”

You already have one foot out the door when you hear this, and you turn around so slowly and in such disbelief that he has to fight to constrain his laugh—the concept of imperfection is truly unthinkable to you. Insufferable, like he said.

“Do tell,” you say, dropping your bag back onto the floor.

“You have any jewelry for me?”

You chew on this for a moment. You did have a selection of necklaces prepared for tonight, but they were heavy and numerous, not exactly the best-suited for the group’s dynamic sets. You still like them, granted, and you know Hyunjin would as well.

You articulate all of this to him, and he asks if he can take a look at them anyways. “Come here, then,” you say, the words so tantalizing when they fall from your lips that nearly trips over himself trying to obey.

You take out a flat rectangular box from your bag and set it down in front of the lightbulb-studded mirrors. Hyunjin observes quietly as you show him its contents: three thick, gold chains with varying lengths and boasting different pendants, plus a beaded bracelet and an assembly of rings of the same material. His devious plan aside, he does love the selection.

“You’re sure you won’t be uncomfortable?”

He nods, and you pick up the longest of the three chains; turn to him expectedly. He takes this as his cue to move closer to you, except he overshoots a little, and he feels the tips of his shoes accidentally bump into the ends of yours; discerns the warmth emanating from your body against his own. He expects a withering glare, a kick in the shin, maybe, but you don’t seem bothered by the proximity at all, unblinking as you bring your hands around the either side of his neck and fasten the first necklace with a soft tap. Your fingers then brush over his collarbones to adjust the pendant, and he thinks your hands would have to be numb not to perceive the frantic heartbeat threatening to burst straight out of his skin.

Entire minutes pass before Hyunjin musters the courage to actually look at you. By then, you’re already working on the third and final necklace. It’s not a surprise that your face is mere inches away from his; he’s been watching your reflections out of the corner of his eye; he knows you’re closer to each other than you’ve ever been. But there are parts of you that the mirror doesn’t show—the soft curve of your lashes, the concentrated narrow of your eyes, the shapely protrusion of your pursed lips—and these surprise him so thoroughly that he slips and slides out of his right mind.

You are the type of beautiful that’s been around longer than humans have, the same as that of the true blue color of forget-me-nots. And Hyunjin feels enveloped, intoxicated by you from this minuscule distance. The idea forms numbly in his head that maybe, just maybe, he was put on this earth to admire you.

In this inebriated state, he makes a venturesome decision.

When you finish centering the last pendant upon the his chest, you are about to take a step back and review the updated look, but you’re debilitated by the feeling of fingers grazing over your hip—lightly, so lightly that you mistake them for a gust of wind at first, but the contact is enough to push the small of your back against the edge of the counter. Then, both of Hyunjin’s hands reach behind you, pressing flat against the marble surface, and, just like that, he has you right where he wants you, ensnared between cold stone and hot flesh.

And so begins an equilibrium so fragile that it’ll shatter if one of you so much as blinks the wrong way, your rattled breath fluttering against his lips, his eyes dark and hooded and out of focus as they survey the fine lines of your expression. It still doesn’t give you away (it never does), but he finds that in this moment he just doesn’t care.

“Let me take you out,” he murmurs. “One date.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You reply under your breath.

“You know what I’m talking about, beautiful.”

Upon uttering that last word, he angles his head almost imperceptibly, the movement challenging, daring you to say something about it. But you don’t. You merely hiss out a whetted “you’re fucking crazy,” and that’s his opening to drag this on a little longer; push your limits a little more.

“About you? Damn straight.”

At this, finally, fucking finally, there is a semblance of something in your face that isn’t just your usual mildly-irritated nonchalance. Instead, he detects surprise in the whites of your eyes as you widen them; as you part your lips with a response that only comes much later.

And he’s surprised by your surprise. Surely, with your skills of observation, you would’ve noticed long ago how his world shrinks down to only you and your gorgeous voice and your confident glare and your shitty sense of humor whenever he’s been granted the privilege of your presence.

This might be the first time he’s admitted it out loud, but he hasn’t tried—hasn’t been able—to hide how he feels about you, not now, not ever. It’s been that way since the moment the sole of your shoe met the carpet of that conference room on the fourth floor of the JYP building.

 “Hwang—” You begin.

“Hyung!”

At the sound of a third, new voice, your arms tense like you’re about to shove Hyunjin off of you, but he only leans in further, so that his lips almost graze your jaw and your hands have nowhere to go except the taut surface of his chest. The surprise is gone; now you’re just pissed. He can feel the heat of your furious eyes and the tremor in your hands as you form fists around the fabric of his top. But he takes his sweet time in scooping up the bracelet and rings, and only afterwards does he pull away from you and straighten to his full height.

“Hey, Innie!” Hyunjin chirps, and Jeongin materializes in the doorway, looking thoroughly perturbed by the older boy’s sunny tone. “What’s up?” 

In the meantime, you turn around to snap the lid of your jewelry box shut, and it takes a singular glance in the mirror for a truly horrible realization to settle upon your shoulders. You don’t think anybody would be able to tell even if you announced it outright, but you know yourself and the little nuances of your face all too well.

You’re flustered.

You feel like a horror movie heroine breaking the fourth wall. 

“Nothing, weirdo. I was just announcing my arrival,” Jeongin says. Thank fuck you did, Hyunjin thinks to himself, completely unaware of the epiphany you’re having behind him. “Chan-hyung mentioned you were here already? Why?”

“She’s in high demand.” Hyunjin points out the she in question by jutting his chin in your direction. “The usual.”

“Ah.”

Jeongin inclines his head towards you in polite greeting. You return his hello, but your expression starts to feel tight when his eyes dart between the strange smile on Hyunjin’s face and your awkward stance (still glued to the edge of the counter) as he drops his duffel by the couch. The boy isn’t stupid, unlike his older counterpart.

“I saw a vending machine on my way here,” Jeongin says, turning to leave the room again. “You want anything, hyung? Noona?”

“I’m okay, thank you,” you say.

“I’ll have whatever you have,” Hyunjin says.

Jeongin flashes a thumbs-up and dips out of the room, perhaps a little more hastily than he intends to come across. And then there are two. Again.

You wait until you can’t hear his footsteps anymore, and then you turn to glower at Hyunjin so intensely that he thinks you’re about to place a curse on his whole bloodline.

Then, your phone starts vibrating, and he knows he’ll live to see another day.

“You still owe me an answer,” Hyunjin calls as you turn around and leave the room.

“Don’t hold your breath,” you reply.

One day, I’ll break her, is the predominant thought that resides in Hyunjin’s head as he slips on the remaining jewelry; watches your figure disappear around a corner. One day, I’ll break his face, is the predominant thought that resides in yours as you stalk away. That’s the two of you, in a nutshell.

Six months ago. Osaka, Japan. 3:03 P.M.

When you walk into the dressing room, you find Haeun hunched over an overflowing photo album with her hands forming fists in her hair, muttering to nobody in particular, “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”

There’s an amused look in your eye as you set your bag down by Hyunjin’s empty vanity chair. She hasn’t noticed your presence yet; approximately three hallways down, the members are rehearsing for tonight’s performance on the main stage of the Kyocera Dome, and the music is so loud that you think you actually saw the walls vibrating while you were in the hallway moments ago.

You rise to your tiptoes and encroach upon her, waiting until she’s within reach to tickle the back of her neck. She nearly flies out of her seat with a shriek that can be heard over the heavy bass.

“Never gets old.” You hand her the photo album that went soaring also, and Haeun snatches it back with an affronted flourish.

“I can’t remember the last time you said hi to me normally, unnie.”

“Me neither, now that you mention it.”

Haeun and Han are your favorite stylist-idol duo in the world because they’re so eerily similar—and it’s adorable. They both illuminate every room they walk into; they both have grins too big for their faces, laughs too loud for their lungs. You always regret leaving your sunglasses at home when you catch sight of the effulgent pair.

But today you cannot detect the usual radiance in Haeun’s voice, nor so much as a hint of her easy grin. Then again, that’s another quality that she and her client share; they’re both well acquainted with the burdens that come with unwavering passion.

Every stylist has their own modus operandi. Haeun’s is a scrapbook of images that she cuts out and saves from catalogs, advertisements, newspapers, et cetera. You’ve seen it many times before, but never in such a state: messy handwriting stuffing the margins to their very brims, numbers and symbols like clusters of rainclouds over a sea of different outfits, arrows and circles and squares highlighting pant cuffs and cascade collars and dangling earrings. Telltale signs that Haeun hasn’t a clue as to what Han will be wearing tonight.

You gnaw on your lower lip, deliberating your next move. You end up placing a firm hand against the album’s cover and pushing it closed.

“Come with me,” you say. “We’re gonna try a new approach.”

Haeun opens her mouth to protest, but unfortunately you have an extensive track record of being right.

“What do you have in mind?” She sighs instead.

“You’ll see.”

With that, you stand up, tuck a small towel under your arm, and angle your head in the direction of the music.

The two of you make your way through the labyrinth of hallways that comprise the venue’s backstage. Eventually, the color of the floor changes from speckled white to solid black, and you step onto the part of the stage that is concealed from the audience by drawn curtains and heavy equipment. You say a quick hello to the group’s manager as you dip past him, and eventually reach the edge of the curtains, where you and Haeun have a good view of the eight members as they run through their setlist for tonight’s concert.

Haeun settles into the spot beside you, still confused as she follows your gaze. 

“Let me ask you this,” you say, just audible over the din. “Can you style a performer if you don’t know how he performs?”

And understanding seeps over her features like poured tea.

“I want you to watch him,” you continue. “Tell me how he performs.”

Han’s part begins, as if on cue. His voice rings out through the empty stadium as he ducks to the front of the formation, a microphone held loosely to his lips, his face taut with focus. Haeun stares at him for some time, silently trying to fathom her observations, but she sees you shaking your head in the corner of her eye.

“Don’t think, Haeun. Just speak.”

She blows out a deep breath before obliging. “It’s hard to picture Han doing anything but laughing or making other people laugh, he’s so goofy and lighthearted most of the time. But he’s like a different person on stage. He’s so intense, it’s almost intimidating. Not intimidating in a douchey way, though—you just get the impression that he’s very confident in himself and his music.

You don’t say another word, but don’t need to. She’s hit her stride.

“His voice and enunciation are so clear. It’s crazy how he sounds exactly like the studio recording. Plus, his delivery feels genuine; he’s not just reciting lyrics, but speaking straight from his heart.

“And this is gonna sound bad, but I didn’t know Han could dance. Like, yeah, I knew that he could dance, but not like this. His movements are so sharp that I feel like my attention is being—”

Right there.

She cuts herself off, reaching the same conclusion.

“It’s his turn to talk, and he wants you to cling to his every word," Haeun articulates slowly. "He’s demanding your attention. He needs you to listen. That’s how he performs.”

A satisfied smile bolts across your face like lightning. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Haeun pictures her scrapbook again, and there are now only a few articles of clothing and accessories that fit the framework you’ve helped her forge. She’s almost dizzy with disbelief, tearing her eyes from Han to look at you instead.

“You’re brilliant, you know that?”

“I do, but I appreciate the reminder.”

She can’t help but giggle. It’s a you answer if she’s ever heard one. “Do you do that with all of your clients?”

Haeun asks the question arbitrarily, without thinking. But you respond in a way that she doesn’t think she’s ever witnessed before, and she’s momentarily baffled by the sight: you hesitate.

As the song’s final chorus approaches, Hyunjin is the one folding himself into the center of the eight-person throng. You can only see his back from this angle, but even then it’s palpable how expertly and effortlessly he molds his body to the modulations of the music; how much fervor and feeling he expresses with every jerk of his spine and flex of his hands.

Within a few short seconds, innumerable descriptors and sensations skim the surface of your mind—but one word knocks the rest clean out of the water, the way it always does when you watch Hwang Hyunjin perform.

Artistry.

“No,” you reply. “Not all of them.”

And where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?

Haeun furrows a brow, understandably puzzled by this response, but you don’t elaborate. Partially because you feel like being coy, but mostly because you know that any explanation you offer will sound like a confession.

The song ends, leaving your ears ringing with the abrupt absence of sound. The members hold their poses with heaving shoulders, staring out into the empty stands until the stage manager’s voice comes through the monitors.

“And that’s a wrap! We’re all set for tonight. Good work, everyone.”

There is a ripple of movement around the stage as the boys relax. Jeongin jogs over to Minho, hoping to review a particularly challenging dance break; the manager asks Chan if he has a second to discuss travel logistics; Seungmin plops onto the edge of the stage and downs the rest of his water; Hyunjin beelines toward you the second he sees you, because of course he does.

You get a good look at him as he skips closer. Stray blonde locks plastered against his damp skin, tank top dyed several shades darker by the perspiration rolling down his neck, the muscles of his arms actually rippling as he swings them around stupidly, a shit-eating smile plastered across his stunning face.

You’re annoyed before he says a word.

“I didn’t know they were letting fans backstage now,” he hums happily. “Want an autograph, gorgeous?”

“Put a sock in it.” You whisk the towel you’ve been holding in his direction. “Wet freak.”

But he catches and tosses it over his shoulder straightaway, and your heart sinks to your fucking ankle. You’ve seen this movie before. You know how it ends.

“No.” You take a shaky step back. “No, nope, don’t even think about—”

The next thing you know, Hyunjin is lunging towards you and winding his arms around your waist, nearly sweeping you clean off your feet as he pulls you into his sweaty embrace. To your complete dismay, your face presses flat against the clammy plane of his chest. “Call me a wet freak again, go on,” he manages to say through his laughter. 

In response, one of your hands wriggles free of its slippery prison and snatches the cuff of Hyunjin’s ear with impressive accuracy. He yelps and loosens his hold on you, but doesn’t relent completely, not even when he catches sight of the murderous expression on your face and cackles so forcefully his whole head is thrown back.

You tighten your grip. “Wet,” you seethe, “freak.”

“Ow—okay, don’t make it hot, what’s wrong with you?”

“Wha—what’s wrong with YOU?!”

As the two of you dissolve into your fatuous arguing, Haeun is no longer sure that she’s still standing here. She’s not even sure if she’s in her right mind anymore. She thinks she might be hallucinating the way everything about Hyunjin softens next to you, or the way your biting tone only seems to nibble when it’s him on the receiving end.

“Psst. We’ve been placing bets on them. You want in?”

Han suddenly materializes next to Haeun, and she would have been jumpscared into a different dimension if she wasn’t so fixated upon the bizarre occurrence before her.

But what if she’s not hallucinating?

No, not all of them, you’d said, like you were disclosing a forbidden secret.

“Yes,” she says, and Han beams. “Absolutely.”

Three months ago. Seoul, South Korea. 2:26 A.M.

On a tranquil Saturday night, you’re sitting at your desk, your knees tucked to your chest, the newest episode of your drama playing quietly on your laptop, a half-empty glass of rosé and open sketchbook laid before you. This is your happy place—a safe haven that the trials and tribulations of the real world can’t reach. But you think you’ve really gone and lost your mind when you find yourself thinking about your job.

Well, not your job, exactly. More like the man who makes your job feel fucking Sisyphean.

You know your way around fabric and foundation better than anyone, but you have never struggled with anything as much as you have trying to navigate Hyunjin. You show up to work every day ready to just put some makeup on the man; instead, you wind up stumbling around the potholes of his dimples and the hills of the veins that run over his forearms and hands like a hopeless drunkard. Scouring the creases of his smile and the oscillations of his voice like they’re topographical maps. Mentally replaying your interactions with him time and time again like you’re monitoring security footage, trying to detect illicit activity in every casual touch he leaves on your shoulder or waist; every babe or gorgeous he throws your way, seemingly without a second thought.

You’ve been trying to understand him and his intentions for seven months now, and your efforts have yielded no fruit whatsoever, save for a few theories that you feel insane for even humoring.

You down the rest of the blush-colored liquid, and as you set down your empty glass you notice your fingers itch with a familiar urge. The pen that you’ve been twirling over your knuckles stills, then swivels; its tip hovers over the last free corner of the sheet of cartridge paper below you. And then it presses upon the surface and starts to move, as naturally as if on its own.

When you were little, you came across a children’s book that you no longer remember the name of, about a little girl with a magical pen that brought her every drawing to life. You decided then that you would one day be that girl.

At some point, the subjects of your incessant sketching became almost exclusively runway models and makeup advertisements. You cemented that you wanted to work in fashion as early as your high school graduation, and by then you already possessed the conviction and charisma of the industry’s most experienced members. Your portfolio was stellar; your personality prophesied of wild success. So your career took off, propelled by the neverending positions and projects that various companies continually laid before your feet.

You stand and pad to your kitchen to refill your glass, only to bring the entire bottle of wine back to your room instead. With one hand, you flick the cap off and lift the whole thing to your lips; with the other, you seize your pen again, not wanting to lose momentum.

For the year or so after you joined the industry, you basked in your idyllic prosperity. Even the doodles you scrawled on random napkins during banal business lunches would appear on some of the world’s most renowned faces the next week. You had indubitably become the little girl from your story; made a career out of giving your imagination tangible form. And what a fruitful career it was going to be.

If only you knew how it would strengthen you in ways you never wanted.

The first time someone called you cold, it took you a while to realize that they were talking about you. The phrase was said so casually and lightheartedly that it sounded at first like a piece of unimportant small talk. But the whisper of cold bitch was then followed by a bout of stifled laughter and what was undoubtedly your name. Your heart stopped along with your footsteps, and you looked towards the source: two interns whose names you had yet to learn, while yours was already in their mouths.

You felt nothing until you were three stops away from your apartment, and then the bottom of the subway gave out beneath you and suddenly you were feeling everything. Only confusion, hurt, and rage at first, but then the other emotions that you’d been smothering tirelessly for who-knows-how-long tore free of their cerebral shackles too, and together they formed an amalgamation of anxiety that closed up your throat within seconds. 

As your pen studs details into a shapely jawline, you remember how you’d shoved your way off the subway and made a mad dash into the night air. You remember how you collapsed against a utility pole in an unfamiliar neighborhood, how your knuckles paled around the ashen wood, how your tears tumbled over your lips and salted your tongue. You remember wanting to go home so badly that you thought your ribcage would cave in on itself with the weight of it. You remember begging for air, for you.

By the time the oxygen had returned to your lungs, the streets were empty save for you, crouched on the curb, your face buried in your arms, spent, shattered, and alone. You were only nineteen at the time.

You are now twenty-two, and the word “cold” has become a regular guest in the lodgings of your heart. You never invite it over, but you’re no longer surprised to find it at your door. It’s a thief, swiping pieces of you when it thinks you’re not looking—a fragment above the fireplace, a scrap from the cracks between the couch—and you know whenever you’re being robbed, know that you lose parts of yourself upon its every visit. But better that than acknowledging what you lose.

You allow it to walk away with full pockets every time.

Hyunjin does not.

“Three words to describe yourself. Go,” he said a few days ago, the two of you heading back to the tour bus after a filming session. 

You were so used to these irrational inquiries of his that you didn’t bother trying to dodge this one. “You first.”

“Smart, sexy, suave,” he said immediately, but burst into a sheepish laugh at the sight of your weary glare. “Fine, fine, let me think. Ambitious, for one. Introspective, definitely—maybe overly so. And artistic. I’d like to think so, at least. Satisfied?”

The most creative person you knew doubting his own ingenuity was absurd to you, but you nodded begrudgingly. It was a good answer, for the most part.

“Now you.”

Honestly, the thief had surfaced the moment you heard the question, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to inform Hyunjin of its existence. Not because you didn’t trust him—you did, more than you had anyone in years—but because you didn’t know what you’d do with yourself if he agreed. You weren’t sure your heart would be able to take it.

When you met the boy’s gaze, though, the carob brown of his eyes was so curious and so comforting that you suspected that was never a possibility.

“Cold,” you mumbled. “I’ve been called cold before.”

There was a pregnant pause. You found yourself holding your breath. And then—

“That’s a joke, right?”

Hyunjin began to count off his fingers.

“Mean. So mean. Impossibly, infuriatingly confident. Talented, stubborn, strong. Funny, sometimes, I guess, though I’d rather you hit me with a metal pipe than admit that ever again.”

At this, you caved; a laugh erupted from your lips, leaving a genuine smile in its wake.

“Determined. Eloquent. Bossy. Some kind of evil, twisted genius. Contemplative, caring, compassionate. Fearless,” he went on. “You get my point. You’re a lot of things, Y/N, but cold isn’t one—”

He was about to say something mind-numbingly stupid. You could sense it in the air.

“—and not just because you’re hot.”

You smacked his bicep, the smile on your face now an uninhibited, helpless grin. And as he vanished into a fit of high-pitched laughter, you thought you sensed him crack open your door and slip your missing artifacts back to their rightful places.

Hyunjin began to climb into the bus, and you caught the cuff of his sleeve, your feet still planted on the pavement.

“Thank you,” you said.

The tremors of his fond chuckle traveled to your very core.

“Idiot,” he sighed softly.

Idiot, you write, and the drawings are complete. 

When you stand up, the bottle is mostly gone—and so are you. You splash some water on your face in lieu of your skincare routine and prod the inside of your mouth a few times using a dry toothbrush, and then you dive beneath your duvet and are dead asleep in minutes. Your slumber is interrupted only by dreams of a world where your theories about Hyunjin aren’t just theories.

If you’d had even one mouthful less of rosé, you might’ve remembered that you picked up your phone and opened your most recent conversation somewhere between steps two and three.

[3:10 A.M.] To: Hwang Hyunjin (Stray Kids, JYP) Audio Message.wav

Hi. I’m drunk and I’m going to regret this tomorrow. But that’s tomorrow’s business. There’s something I need to tell you tonight.

After I moved to Seoul, I used to get these bouts of homesickness. Not in a standard ‘I wanna go home’ kind of way, but in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below me. I was always ready for it to swallow me alive. I would’ve been happy for it to.

But I haven’t felt that way since I met you. I realized this not too long ago, and it threw me for a fucking loop. I’ve never felt seen the way you see me. I’ve never been known the way you know me. Every time I look at you or hear your voice, it feels so much like returning home that I don’t have to dream of it anymore.

You called me fearless the other day, but you’re wrong. I’m terrified. I’m terrified that history is going to repeat itself, that another home will slip through the cracks between my fingers and there will be nothing I can do to stop it. And that’s why I’m so hesitant towards you, towards whatever this is, because I don’t want to go through that ever again.

So the thing I need to tell you is that I care about you. I care so much that I’m scared speaking it into existence will make it real and vulnerable to all the worst parts of the world. But it’s not speaking it into existence if I’m drunk, right? Maybe I have no idea what I’m talking about. Maybe you’ll never even hear this. So it doesn’t count. That’s how that works, surely.

Sorry if this was totally nonsensical. And sorry that I’m so bad at feelings. You must think I’m impossible, and I don’t blame you.

Good night, Hyunjin. Thank you, again.

One month ago. Los Angeles, United States. 12:37 A.M.

When Hyunjin steps out of the hotel’s tall glass double doors, he’s wearing a teatree facemask, and his bags are draped over the crooks of his elbows like he’s an upper-echelon socialite on his way back from a lavish shopping spree. And then he sees you standing next to the curb, and the situation dawns on him in bits and pieces.

You’re the only one here. The vans that were supposed to take you to the airport are nowhere to be seen. Boarding begins in four minutes.

A soft flinch crimps his features. Oops.

“Tomorrow night,” you’re saying into your receiver, but your attention is on him only, your penetrative gaze putting the dead in deadpan. “The absolute earliest. You’re sure?”

When you finish listening to the manager’s response, you heave a sigh that sags your shoulders and end the call with a jab that should’ve splintered your screen protector.

Then, you start walking towards him.

“Hi,” Hyunjin says, his eyes pleading for mercy. “You are so talented and beautiful. I don’t tell you that often enough, do I?”

He expects you to grab him by the cuff of his ear again, to throw him a retort that’s twice as mean as it is witty, something along those lines. But you merely push your suitcase in his direction, and it is then when he notices that your face is hard enough to chip enamel; that your eyes are eerily, entirely empty. The tendril of warmth that’s always dancing among the subtleties of your expressions, that he’s always pursuing to the very borders of his dreamscapes, is nowhere to be seen.

A shiver travels down Hyunjin’s spine as he curls his fingers around the plastic handle.

Something’s not right.

“We’re gonna have to stay here another day,” you say. “Can you check us in? I have some calls to make.”

“Us?” Hyunjin repeats.

“Junghan could only reserve one room,” you reply, your phone already glued back to your ear. “The hotel is fully booked for the next few months.”

With that, you’re already preoccupied with the next thing, turning to the side to reschedule a meeting. But Hyunjin can only stare blankly at your profile, trying and failing to grasp that he’s going to spend a night with the subject of his every daydream. Though you might be leaning more towards the nightmare end of the spectrum at the moment, considering the way your head snaps back in his direction like a woman possessed.

Go, you mouth, and he obliges.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin is in the elevator by himself. He speculates it’s an ingenious, intentional choice that the lights are turned off, so that whoever’s inside can watch the psychedelic lights of Los Angeles sprawl further and wider the higher they go. But he can’t think of anything except for the subzero nothingness where your irises should’ve been.

Hyunjin’s initial guess was that he crossed a line with this missed plane, but the more he thinks about it the clearer it becomes that this isn’t an isolated issue. It’s the culmination of something bigger. Something continuous.

You have become as familiar to him as the lines of his eyes or the ridges of his knuckles. He’s learned where to look for your feelings when he can’t find them in your face; studied your words and the undertones of your voice like they’re verses of scripture. Yet, it was around two months ago when Hyunjin looked at your side profile and couldn’t recognize you. He’d blinked, startled, and then you’d asked why he was looking at you so strangely, and everything returned to normal. He wrote it off as a side effect of sleep deprivation and paid it no more mind that day.

Except it happened again a few days later; again, not too long after, and Hyunjin began to suspect that he was losing his mind. You didn’t seem all that different—a bit more taciturn than usual, maybe, but you’d been busier than usual, too, your workspace always full of empty coffee cups by the end of the day, the pages of your planner more colorful and crammed than ever. The minor variances never struck him as a reason for worry.

“Stupid,” Hyunjin whispers bitterly.

He replays your interaction one more time. You, shoving your suitcase against his palm, telling him to go check in. Him, fastening his hand around the handle, sensing the bottomless void within you, feeling like he’d been dismissed from before your throne.

As he steps off the elevator and walks towards your designated room, he doesn’t understand how or why—but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s failed you.

Nearly an hour passes. The room only has one bed, so Hyunjin turns off the lights, folds himself onto the armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window, drapes a complimentary robe over his shoulders, and tries to sleep. He doesn’t know why he even tries. He’s exhausted, but he knows damn well there’s no hope of him getting any rest until he has you in his proximity again.

He doesn’t look at the door when he finally hears it open, but the knot of tension in his chest comes undone as soon as your silhouette appears in the hallway. He takes out his first real breath since leaving you at the hotel’s entrance.

You hear the sound it makes. You fall still.

“Hyunjin?”

His heart physically aches at how tired you sound. “Yeah?”

“Oh, you’re awake,” you answer. “Move to the bed. You’re not sleeping on that thing.”

He remains where he is, his chin resting on the side of his fist, his eyes glued to the flickering panorama of neon lights below him. You crouch to unzip something, and there’s a heavy thud of metal meeting cloth, presumably your laptop being tossed onto the bed’s mattress.

“Hello? Did you—”

“Is everything okay?”

A short pause follows his interruption.

“I still have a few emails to write, but everything’s been rescheduled, so as long as you don’t miss tomorrow’s flight, too, we should be—”

The robe slides off his lap as he pushes himself to his feet. “That’s not what I mean.”

The only source of light in the room is the lone light above the entrance, but it’s enough for him to see your face and the surprise etched upon it. You open your mouth, utter one syllable, and stop yourself immediately after, stunned into silence by the sobriety in Hyunjin’s expression.

“Enlighten me, then,” you say finally.

“You really don’t know?”

“What is there to know? That you missed a flight and pissed me the fuck off? Trust me, I’m aware.”

“No, that’s not—”

“So what are you talking about, then? Why are you talking in riddles? Fuck, what is it that you want from me?”

There’s real frustration in your voice, and it’s the first time you’ve shown him any emotion in pure, unadulterated form. With this, Hyunjin understands that he was right; this conversation is heading towards a culmination of some kind, and so are you, with the devastating force of a natural phenomenon.

He wonders if you’re prepared to destroy yourself, too.

“I know how you are around me,” you whisper. “You’re always acting like you’re trying to unearth something, and I figure this ‘something’ must be wonderful, because you look at me like I’m made of stars; you speak to me like you’re serenading a lover. But I am constantly, ceaselessly haunted by the possibility that this ‘something’ doesn’t exist, that you’re looking for the wrong thing in the wrong person. 

“I know it’s selfish to ask for anything more than what you’ve already given me—you’re so kind, Hyunjin, and you’ve been nothing but since the day we met. But grant me one more wish, even if it is the last time you ever do.

“Tell me what you see in me,” you plead. “Otherwise, I will spend the rest of my life mourning the months of yours that you wasted on me.”

With that, it occurs to Hyunjin, falls upon and cracks open his mind like a piece of firewood, that you have never been aware of—never asked for—the throne you sit upon.

For an indeterminate amount of time, the two of you stay there, standing in silence on opposite sides of your dark hotel room. You haven’t felt anything like this in a long time, your chest heaving with your heavy breaths, your vision muddied by both the lack of light and the desperation searing through your windpipe. 

When Hyunjin finally begins to speak, his words wrest the oxygen from your lungs.

“After you moved to Seoul, you used to get these bouts of homesickness.”

Your mind careens; your heart reels. 

“They came in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below you.” He takes a tentative step towards you. “You thought it was going to swallow you alive. You would’ve been happy for it to.”

You never got to listen to your voice note. You were blacked out when you recorded it and horrified when you discovered it in your chat logs the next morning; the wretched thing was unsent so quickly that you couldn’t check for a read receipt.

But there’s not a doubt in your mind that these are your words falling from Hyunjin’s lips.

“You haven’t felt that way since you met me, though.” He is only a few feet away from you now, and getting closer still. “You’ve never felt seen the way I see you. You’ve never been known the way I know you.”

God, you said that? Did you propose to him too?

“You’re terrified that another home will slip through the cracks between your fingers and there will be nothing you can do to stop it.” Hyunjin flattens his left hand upon the drywall next to your ear; pushes you back ever-so-gently against the hard surface. “I must think you’re impossible.”

And he brings his face so, so close to yours; looks at you with so much adoration, so much tenderness, that you feel the final bulwark around your heart fracture—

“I don’t,” Hyunjin breathes, cradling your cheek, “because you’re not. And I want to prove it to you, even if it takes me the rest of my life. That’s what I see in you.”

—and crumble.

You form fists in the lining of his hoodie. Hyunjin’s hand tightens where it lays over the curve of your jaw.

When you crash your lips upon his, he tastes the metallic sheen of electricity and the salt of tearwater both; he witnesses crying lightning, for the first time in human history.

Present day. Cannes, France. 9:15 P.M.

Hyunjin never thinks when he fucks you. 

One part of it is that he physically can’t; his cognitive facilities shut down when he has you quivering beneath him, like his desire to pleasure you is too overwhelming for his mind to bear. The other part is that he doesn’t want to. He’s afraid that the voices of cynicism and trepidation that plague his mind every waking moment will taint the actualization of his wildest dreams.

Lucky for him, you manage to erase his mind on a daily basis with only one accidental touch or an apparition of a smile, so he doesn’t stand a chance whenever you let him between your legs.

“Trust me?” He whispers, imprinting the words upon the inside of your thigh.

“More than anyone,” you breathe, and just this has him tenting against his satin slacks.

Hyunjin used to see you scolding managers or moving racks twice your weight and think that was you in your element—tonight, he learned otherwise. You were so confident that even just the way you puffed your chest out prompted heads to turn and low voices to ask for your name; so charming that even by the end of your self-introduction you had every guest you spoke to eating out the palm of your hand. 

Eating out your pussy, though, is Hyunjin’s privilege alone.

He wraps his fingers around the hem of your dress and pushes it upwards, creating a halo of red fabric around your midriff; slides your panties off your legs and tosses them over his shoulder. All obstacles out of the way, Hyunjin winds his arms around your thighs and pins your hips to the mattress, slotting himself between your knees as they fall apart. Your ankles fold over the top of his head, and you’re about to ask if he’s okay like this, but then you feel the hot muscle of his tongue trace over your dripping folds—and every word of every language you’ve ever known is dispelled from your brain and your mouth in the form of a stuttered, euphoric moan.

He teases you first, drags his mouth over you so that he’s lapped up all of your slick, and just when you feel your patience thinning he pulls you apart with reverent hands and begins to suckle on your clit, as attentive to your every solicitation as always. You arch your back so high off the bed that your ankles knock Hyunjin’s head down a few inches, but the new angle is even better; grants him access to more of you.

He reinforces his grip around you, presses his torso right up against the side of the mattress, and gorges: sluices your labia until you’re spilling from his chin onto the sheets; flicks against your bundle of nerves until it’s pulsating and swollen on his mouth; fucks his tongue against your favorite spot until you’re curling your toes, seeing the whole solar system. 

“Coming,” you blabber after some time. Tell me something I don’t know, he thinks to himself. “Coming, Hyune. I’m—fuck—”

Hyunjin is aware of the way you clench so hard around nothing that your pelvis hurts. He is aware of the way you’re so dilapidated from pleasure that you’re genuinely struggling to breathe. He doesn’t care. He wants to get the cadences of your climax tattooed into the gray matter of his brain, and there can’t be rests in the sheet music, can there?

He presses a hand flat on your stomach in preparation for your body’s protest, then returns his face to its place between your thighs; starts to leave kitten licks around the edges of your puffy folds before you can finish riding out your high. You press your tongue against the back of your front teeth, emitting a pained hiss as you draw a sharp breath, tears stinging at your eyes.

“Son of a bitch—”

“Trust me?” He asks again, his voice vibrating against your sore cunt, and your complaints quiet into whimpers as you bring a hand over your quivering mouth, and nod. 

At least Hyunjin bridles his thirst the second time he eats your pussy open, his lips smacking openly and slowly over your every inch except the one that would be truly unbearable for you right now. He’s so rough and so fucking careful at once like he can’t decide between obliterating and worshipping your cunt.

He’ll end up doing both.

Within a few minutes, your legs have gone slack on either side of Hyunjin once again, and another coil has begun to tighten behind your bellybutton, equal parts pain and pleasure—but he knows your pussy just as well as he does your person by now, and it’s not long before the former is compounding with the latter.

Round two has a faster ascent and a steeper drop. He finds your spot again with the precision and ease of a trained marksman and fixates upon it like a man starved. It has your cries devolving to incoherent profanities and, to his unfettered delight, your foot actually shaking, your heel tapping against the back of his neck every time it comes down.

As if referencing a metronome, Hyunjin matches the rhythm of his tongue to your accelerando. Only when your leg is nearly convulsing does he wrap his lips back around your clit; slide two fingers into the place he leaves empty and pumps them into you until you are liquifying, igniting around him, your mewls lamenting the second orgasm he plucks from your core.

After your body has stilled, Hyunjin lifts his head, his face drenched in perspiration and saliva and you. His eyes travel over the slopes of your arms and the hills of your breasts, over the tears streaming from your eyes and staining the pillow you lie on. It is this last bit that has him shrugging off his shirt and undoing his dress pants with one hand, palming his throbbing cock with the other.

He clambers over you, and the kiss that follows is filthy, your mouth falling apart when he rolls your nipples between his fingers, strands of spit suspending between your tongues before dripping down onto your collarbone. You can sense what he wants in his craving lips, his pleading tongue—and you know he won’t ask for it. He’s tested you enough tonight; he’d rather your comfort than his pleasure.

But you guide his leaking head to your entrance, returning his stupefied look with a watery smile.

“Love me?” You ask this time, for the first time.

There is not even a nanosecond of hesitation when he answers, “with everything in me.”

He comes inside you the moment he bottoms out, your name leaving his lips in breathless, desperate repetition like a broken prayer as he topples off the same cliff he’d dropped you from moments ago. You curl a hand in his hair as he stutters against you, bring your lips flush against his ear, and whisper that you love him too—and the sight of you beneath him blurs he also starts to tear up.

This is the reality Hyunjin lives in, presumably because he was a saint in his past life, and it would be his utmost pleasure to see it through.

Two years later. Milan, Italy. 11:28 A.M.

For the last half hour, a ray of sunlight has repeatedly struck the diamond that sits between the second and third knuckle of your ring finger, and the Vogue journalist on the other side of your desk thinks he is slowly losing his vision. But when he asks his final question, your hand comes to a much-appreciated stop, the fountain pen you’ve been twirling around clattering to your tabletop.

“Where do you find your inspiration?” 

As the journalist blinks the phosphenes from his eyes, he finally manages to get a good look at the face of Versace’s newest designer, and he detects something ineffable and warm in your expression.

“My inspiration, hm?” You fall silent for a short time, thinking. “If you asked me this at the start of my career, I’d have said ‘people.’ Their postures, their expressions, their wardrobes. I knew I was a goner when I watched a fashion show for the first time and noticed how the models’ attire helped them harness their innate power and grace—I wanted to orchestrate that kind of symbiosis, too. In that aspect, nothing has changed, actually. I still find wonder in human beings, and not just the ones on the runway. I think it would be difficult not to, don’t you?

“Some time ago, a good friend of mine was having trouble with an outfit for her client. She asked me a similar question, and only then did I realize that it was no longer just people that inspired me most, but a singular person. I had always been skeptical of the idea of a ‘muse’ until I met him. But I could only spend so long denying how he ventured closer to my soul than anything ever had, how he knew me and saw me like nobody ever could. He understood my art. He was my art, so—”

Your eyes dart over your ring, and the journalist would’ve flinched out of habit if he wasn’t so mesmerized by your eloquence.

“—where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?”

A few seconds elapse, and then you clear your throat and straighten your back, returning to your office from your trip down memory lane. 

“That’s the long answer, anyways. The short answer would be my fiancé.”

The journalist laughs, and he doubts you’ll give him this next piece of information—but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try.

“And who would that be?”

He’s right. You don’t answer the question. But you do flash him an enigmatic smile, and for some reason it reminds him of lightning.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other works here. thanks so much for the support ♡

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[lesbian-for-arthur-morgan]

Request : first time holding hands

I’d love to see their reactions 😭

First Time Holding Hands

Short Headcanons || Gender Neutral Language!

Genre: Fluff Featuring: Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Javier Escuella, Charles Smith, Sean MacGuire, and Sadie Adler Warnings: None

AN: A shorter post today! Thank you so much for requesting these were so fun to write I literally love doing cute little moments with these characters ~ I hope I answered the way you meant !! lol I feel like I got a little off track in some ---> Requests are open! Check out guidelines if you have any questions :)

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Arthur Morgan:

This man is a nervous wreck around you. Especially when you first start showing feelings for each other.

It took a million years for him to even admit that he was a little sweet on you, he is definitely not initiating anything past that point.

He can barely believe that you like him back.

The first time you grab his hand is not during anything special.

You’re sitting in the front of a wagon with him while on the way into town. The sun is casting a golden sheen across the earth, the air is warm but not hot, and the birds are swooping and playing in the sky overhead.

Without much thought you reach down to where he’s resting his arm on his thigh and envelope his hand with your own.

He tenses up at the contact, scared to make any sudden moves in case he might scare you away.

He doesn’t look at you directly, instead just glancing at you from the side of his eye. He wonders if you meant to do that or if you just did it by accident.

How your hand would end up on his on his thigh he doesn’t know.

When your thumb starts stroking the skin around his knuckle, tough and calloused from a few too many brawls, he starts to melt and relax a little bit.

He flips his hand around, which makes you pull away slightly, and fits his fingers in between yours. That way he’s holding your hand back and it’s a mutual.

There’s a blush on his cheeks and a grin on his lips. Not a word is spoken, but Arthur relishes the comfortable silence as he tries to think of what on earth he could have done to deserve something so perfect - to deserve you.

John Marston:

John is not a touchy-feely kind of guy. Not at first anyways. He doesn’t get what you see in him. He doesn’t understand why of all the men in the world - Hell, all the men in camp - you chose to waste your time with him.

He’s angsty like that.

He knows of your feelings for him and he gave a strong inclination that he might like you back but never confessed anything really. He figured you understood him enough to know.

You did, but he’s hard to read sometimes.

The first time you hold hands, he actually initiates it. You try not to overstep any boundaries with him, so he always has to make the first moves.

While playing a few practice rounds of poker (John is trying to teach you to play/play better), jokes are being thrown back and forth and rocks are being used as chips for show.

When John’s focus is pulled to the cards in his hands, you take the opportunity to try and grab a few rocks from his pile to add to your own as a little joke.

John catches you and places his large hand on top of your own making you freeze. A smug grin is plastered on his face and he doesn’t even look at you before placing his cards down, showing off a winning hand.

“Read ‘em and weep, Darlin’,” He laughs but never removes his hand from yours.

A small blush rises to your cheeks and his gaze falls to your combined hands. He curls his fingers under your own so that he’s fully holding your hand in his.

You try to catch his eye, but he’s so focused on his large, scarred hand covering your softer skin. It eats at him a little; a guilty feeling settles into his chest.

You place your other hand on his cheek and press on it lightly to direct his head to look at you. You smile one of your so-sweet smiles that makes his stomach ache a little with admiration, and he grins.

The two of you sit there for a while and continue trying to play poker each with one hand.

Dutch Van Der Linde:

Dutch has always been really hands-on with you. (Wink Wink)

He’s flamboyant, a show-off, cocky, and passionate. He loves to show you off and show off to everyone that you are his.

The first time he holds your hand, it’s to explicitly show that you are his and he is yours.

Most times after that, when Dutch holds your hand it means that the two of you are connected, not two people but one. Not just a couple but a unit.

He’s dramatic that way.

The very first time he holds your hand is during an argument with Hosea. A few things about camp affairs come up, plans are being thrown around, and Hosea makes a comment suggesting that you don’t need to be there for their conversation.

Dutch glares at the older man and reaches down to grasp your hand in his.

“But Daddy I love him!” Vibes I’m not going to lie.

He stands a little taller now that he’s touching you, it makes him feel stronger and more sure of what he’s saying. He puffs out his chest and looks down his nose at Hosea.

Hosea rolls his eyes a little and puts his hands up in surrender, telling Dutch that he can do what he wants.

When Hosea leaves, Dutch uses your entwined hands to pull you towards his side a little bit and hold you in an embrace.

He calls you his partner in crime, his other half, and a million other sultry things he can think of that causes a heat to rise in your chest.

He doesn’t let you go for the rest of the night after that, choosing to show off to the rest of the gang members that you two belong together and will always be.

Javier Escuella:

Javier values romance in a relationship.

Maybe nothing incredibly grand - but sweet notes, acts of service, small gifts here and there - he likes to show you how much he loves you through actions more than anything else.

All that and more is shown later on in your relationship. At first, though, Javier is more protective than romantic when it comes to you. It keeps him from showing his emotions at times, and makes him oblivious to your feelings other times.

He just doesn’t know what’s too much because he feels a lot of things, but he wonders if showing all that too soon will scare you away. His feelings are so intense that he gets scared away from you sometimes.

The first time he holds your hand is when you knick yourself while trying to do tricks with one of his knives.

You envy the way he’s able to just do the flips and graceful switches with the blades, and even how he can effortlessly play that five-finger-fillet game.

So, naturally, you try to replicate a trick you’ve seen him do a million times and it ends with a little gash on the heel of your palm.

It’s barely bleeding and looks more like a scrape, but as you hiss in pain Javier has forgotten his chore as he rushes to see what you’ve done to yourself.

He tsks at you and gently wraps his fingers around your wrist to get a better look at the wound.

You’ve forgotten the scrape at this point as his touch is sending jolts of adrenaline through your arm and his face is so close to yours you could count his eyelashes if you wanted to.

He doesn’t notice, too busy looking to see if you’ve mortally wounded yourself. When he’s satisfied that you won’t die, he looks up at your face (Which is dark with a blush and you’re trying to avert your gaze from him, but you just can’t).

He doesn’t understand what’s gotten into you until he sees your joined hands and a knowing grin cracks into his face.

“I’ll kiss it, make it better,” He murmurs and presses a slow, tender kiss to the palm of your hand while gazing up into your eyes the entire time.

He knows what he’s doing.

Charles Smith:

I genuinely feel like Charles is the most well rounded of the group when it comes to his emotions and how he conveys what he’s feeling to you.

Communication king for sure.

The first time Charles holds your hand it’s like he’s always done it.

It’s so natural to him that there really is no concrete first time that changed the meaning of your relationship or created some big deal.

Charles isn’t really someone who likes to show off and isn’t into public displays of affection. Brief hugs and hand holding are the only things he can bring himself to do with you if there are other people present.

He likes to hold your hand a lot despite that. Kissing, groping, or anything even a little heated is a big no for him (in private it is another story), so he likes to have your hands intertwined more often than not.

At first he would come up to you and hold his hand out, palm up, with a quirked brow as if asking you to place your hand in his. You oblige, of course, and he would follow you around camp or vice versa.

Now, Charles doesn’t even bother asking before he comes up to you and just grabs your hand whenever he sees you.

There’s no question about it, the two of you are always connected.

If he can see you he is by your side holding on to you.

It’s not possessive (unlike Dutch cough cough), but it’s more for his own comfort. He likes being near you and he likes that you seem to enjoy being near him.

Charles finds his twin flame in you, his other half. Much more than a soulmate, but his person.

Sean MacGuire:

Sean never really knows where the two of you stand in terms of a relationship.

He flirts with you over and over and over again. You laugh and blush occasionally, but end up telling him to shut up and wandering off.

He knows that he can come off as a sarcastic ass, but he didn’t realize that it’s so intense that you can’t even tell that he’s genuinely trying to get you to notice him as more than a friend/fellow gang member.

The thing is, it is hard for you to tell. Sean isn’t known for being the most serious guy in the world and you’ll be damned if you let him make fun of you by flirting with you and making you swoon or something.

The first time you hold hands with Sean is also consequently the first time you see Sean’s feelings for you are genuine, not some trick.

You turn away from Sean after he’s thrown yet another flirty remark at you, but before you even have the chance to mutter “Shut up, MacGuire” He’s shot out and wrapped his fingers around your own in a strong grip. It doesn’t hurt, but you can’t just pull away and tell him to stop messing around.

You turn back and look down at your conjoined hands.

“Please,” He begs and pulls you an inch closer. “Listen to me.”

You can hardly focus on anything but the warmth of his hand in yours and the way it makes your heart swell and tingle.

He explains his feelings for you, every last one of them. Some were a little more explicit and detailed than you expected, but you appreciated the straight forward honesty.

Let’s just say after that conversation the two of you hold hands and more pretty often in the future.

Sadie Adler:

Sadie and you hold hands all the time. She literally cannot tell how you feel about her.

Is this a friendship? Is it more? She has no idea because you’re so comfortable with her that the line between friends and partners is so blurred Sadie isn’t even sure if there was a line to begin with.

One night, you and Sadie are lying outside the tent that you share stargazing. Sadie is telling you what she knows about the stars and you chime in every now and then with your own little details. She loves the excitement in your voice when you remember the story to a constellation or find one that you hadn’t notice last time.

Your bodies are close, but your hands are closer. Lying in the grass, Sadie can feel the heat from your fingers and hers twitch and beg to touch yours.

She’s nervous, though, to take the relationship further. She doesn’t know if she’s ready to admit what she wants.

While she’s debating if it’s worth it, your pinky finger stretches and curls around her own. She audibly gasps at the action and her head whips over to see if you realize what you’re doing.

You’re already gazing at her with soft eyes and a small smile. It makes her bones turn to jelly at the sight and she tries to speak, but the only thing that escapes her mouth are sharp exhales as her words get tangled in her throat.

She tightens her pinky finger around yours, and you understand the meaning behind it.

It was all still confusing, but Sadie knew one thing: Friends don’t look at each other like that.

<><><><>

I love Sadie so much y'all don't even know

Hope you enjoyed!!

#rdr2 arthur #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #john marston #john marston x reader #dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella #charles smith #charles smith x reader #sean macguire #sean macguire x reader #sadie adler x reader #sadie adler #arthur morgan headcanons #rdr2 headcanons

[purple-babygirl]

don't call me daddy V

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x little!f!reader

Word count: 4,660

Summary : In a world where littles are openly themselves, they volunteer to help and be helped by willing caregivers. In spite of himself, Bucky finds himself stuck with one and to keep the nagging away, he has to learn how to be around her with everything that that entails.

Warnings: crying, age regression, fluff, a little angst

A/N: i would like to give credits for this part and its idea to🦊nonnie because without her ask there might've not been a fifth part to this story. Having said that, i'm thinking this should be the last part of the story because i am out of scenario your girl is empty. but anyway, please enjoy this one and have a tight hug xx💜💜

~

When they arrived back at her house, she was asleep in the passenger's seat.

Bucky didn’t want to wake her up. He knew she barely got any sleep last night because of the mean cough she was suffering from and so he carefully carried her inside without a word.

His heart kept speeding up every time he would remember what she called him after taking her shot as he slipped her feet out of her shoes and socks and tucked her in her bed.

He frankly had no idea what he would do if she was to wake up little and if he was ready to be a good daddy to her. What if he messed up again? He seemed to be a pro at that.

Luckily, when she woke up later that night, she was her big self again and didn’t seem to have any recollection of calling Bucky daddy, or if she did, she didn’t mention it.

Bucky gave her her cough syrup and the rest of the meds, helping her go back to sleep as he presumed his place on the floor by her bed.

In a way he couldn’t explain, even her coughs were more comfort than the silence at his house, and definitely more comfort than his nightmares.

It was 12 days of little sleep, a lot of crying, meds, movies and sleepovers until she was fully cured again, and even though Bucky hated that she was sick, those seemed to have been some of the best days he’s ever gotten to live since he’s come back to himself.

He got to laugh with someone, care for someone, comfort someone and enjoy the company of someone. And not just anyone; it was her.

But something was missing still.

Bucky wanted her to call him daddy. More than anything and from the bottom of his heart, he wanted to deserve that name, that role.

What Bucky had noticed in the days he’d stayed at her place was that she had no family pictures at all.

She had framed pictures of friends, of herself, of Corgi, but none of family members.

It didn’t come as a surprise because she’d mentioned it to him before, and he just knew that if he wanted to be her caregiver, her daddy, Bucky had to prove to her that he was nothing like those who’d hurt her. He had to prove himself worthy of taking care of her; set himself apart from them.

And to do that, he had to know more.

“I see no family pictures anywhere,” Bucky spoke as he helped her plant the new tulips she had in place.

“Yeah, we’re not close.” She shrugged, hand stuttering just the tiniest bit in their movements.

“Can I ask why?”

She sighed, “why?”

“I’m trying to learn from the mistakes of others.”

She laughed, “really?”

“Really.”

Oh, this wasn’t a joke?

“You know you don’t have to do that anymore, right?” She couldn’t understand why he would want to try again when the report was handed and he was let off the hook.

“I want to. I really want to.” Bucky wished his gloved hands weren’t muddy as they were so he could touch her face.

He found himself craving physical contact around her more often than not.

“You finally believe in the power of the program?” She teased, keeping her focus on the flowers she was rooting.

“No, I couldn’t care less about the institution and its programs.”

“Not even Mrs. Morrison?” She joked again.

“I’m serious, doll.”

“Why then?” She dropped the bulbs, deciding to face Bucky.

“I want it because it’s you I’ll be daddy to.”

“They never loved me for who I was.” She answered his previous question and Bucky felt a pang at his chest.

He had made her feel the same way.

He remained silent, not wanting to interrupt her in fear that she might stop.

“I always had to be a certain way, say certain things, act a certain way. Do what we say and then we’ll see if we can love you.”

Bucky might’ve been speechless, but his eyes spoke a million words, begging hers for forgiveness for his ignorant mistakes.

“That’s why it hurt so much when you showed me you didn’t accept the little version of me.”

“I’m so sorry-”

She shook her head, stopping him.

“I’ve been rejected for too long, Bucky, too many times. It took me a good while to finally believe that I was worth loving despite my quirks, ugly parts and possible mistakes. Took too long to teach myself that it didn’t matter if I cried all the time, was too clingy or too talkative; I was still lovable.” She pointed to her chest as she finished her words.

Bucky took his gloves off, pulling her in for a hug, unable to stop himself anymore. He had no words, only anger and remorse raging inside his chest.

“It takes you a while to unlearn stuff you’ve been taught your whole life by the people who were supposed to love you the most.” She whispered into his shirt.

“Doll, I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispered back.

“It’s okay.” She looked up at him, “I appreciate you, Bucky, I really do, but I don’t think I’m ready to lose everything I’ve built inside me if you decide in the middle of it that you weren’t fully ready to take on such a responsibility. I forgive you. I promise. But I don’t trust you enough to give up full control of myself and my life to you again. I’m sorry.” She pulled away from the hug, giving Bucky the option to walk away.

“Don’t be. I understand.” He remained in place.

“Are you gonna disappear now?” She wondered with a sad smile.

“No, you’re not getting rid of me so easily.” Bucky returned the smile, putting his gloves back on.

She smiled gratefully, “I don’t wanna lose you either. You’re such a great friend. And I owe you forever for taking care of me those past few days.”

“What if I prove myself to you though?” Bucky asked, dipping a tulip bulb in the soil.

“What?” She tilted her head in confusion.

“What if I show you how serious I am about this and prove myself worthy of you?”

“Bucky, you don’t have to do that. I know you have a life, responsibilities-”

“I want to do it. There’s nothing more important to me right now than this. And you.”

“If you’re doing this just because you can’t accept that you failed the program-”

“I swear on my ma’s soul, I want to do this. Because of you, doll. For you and with you.”

The words died on her tongue as she watched his sincere eyes implore hers.

“Would you give me a chance to prove myself to you? Please?”

“Okay, Bucky.” She swallowed, “one chance.”

“That’s all I need.” Bucky smiled.

She was not sick anymore and he didn’t have a reason to stick around. He also didn’t want to push her on the matter of regressing, so, respectful of her boundaries, he left.

~

After their conversation in the garden, Bucky had to go home.

His heart was heavy when he entered his empty apartment to nothing and no one. Being alone in here wasn’t something he enjoyed anymore.

It has been 2 days of intense research that Bucky has conducted on age regression and partners in little space when she texted him that night.

“Mr. Barnes, can you please come over?”

He wasn’t particularly happy about the fact that he was Mr. Barnes again, but he certainly was happy that she thought to text him when little. This was an improvement and it counted to Bucky.

“Will be right there, doll.” He texted back, running to his motorcycle.

~

Bucky took in a deep breath before knocking at her door, ready to prove himself a suitable daddy.

She opened with teary eyes, making Bucky’s heart sink.

“What’s wrong, doll?” Bucky asked as he stepped inside.

“I can’t open the pickle jar and now my hands hurt,” she cried, showing him the insides of her palms and how red they were from trying so hard to twist the cap on the glass jar.

She was indeed a little worried that Bucky might find this stupid, that he might yell at her or get upset because she was crying over something minimal in his eyes.

But that wasn’t the case at all. The man was just thankful that she was alright.

“Oh, doll,” Bucky sighed in relief, glad that she wasn’t actually hurt.

Until he remembered that this was a big deal to her. Her hands hurt and she was frustrated because the cap wouldn’t budge.

Moments like these definitely required a daddy.

“I thought Mr. Barnes could help,” she sniffled, her hand wiping under her nose, “metal arm.” She touched his gloved hand.

Bucky chuckled, taking the pickle jar out of her hand, “what if I can do it without the metal arm? What would you give me in return?”

“The biggest pickle?” She offered, wiping her tears away from her eyes, her crying stopping at once.

Bucky laughed at her innocence, “no, I want something else, doll.”

She tilted her head expectantly.

What could Mr. Barnes possibly want? Did he want the whole jar? Would he at least leave her one pickle? She was craving pickles-

“I want you to start calling me Bucky again. No more Mr. Barnes. Can you do that for me, doll?”

Oh, that was something she could do.

“Only if you can open the jar with your not metal hand,” she challenged, her little mind amazed by the idea because look at her hand! It had red marks all over when she tried opening that jar.

“You got it,” Bucky said, easily twisting the cap on the jar open, making her mouth open with it.

“Woah,” she whispered as Bucky handed her the jar with a laugh.

“You’re welcome, doll.” He smiled, watching her chew on a crunchy pickle.

“Thank you, Bucky.” She smiled back, offering him a big pickle.

Bucky’s nerves tingled, knowing he was one step closer to her and his desired title.

~

Moving forward, Bucky learned to distinguish between her big self and little self through texts.

Her little self would always talk about him and herself in third person.

Plus, her big self always needed help with bigger things like needing Bucky to fix her sink or look at her car, knowing he might burn down the city if she went back to asking Adam for help with those things.

Her little self, on the other hand, would need help with the lighter things, the sweeter things. She would call asking for help with Corgi, something too high on a shelf or even just wanting Bucky’s company.

Tonight was one of those nights.

It was thundering more than usual and Bucky had wanted to go and be with her, but he didn’t want to invade her privacy.

But then she called and her scared voice saying his name had Bucky moving even before she uttered the words.

He was proud that she now knew that he was just only one call away; that he would come running whenever she needed. She could finally count on him to be there for her and he couldn’t be more contented.

He knew that consistency was important in relationships, especially one where she was little.

“Hey, doll, it’s okay. It’s just a little thunder,” Bucky cooed, rubbing her back as she let him inside.

“I’m not scared anymore now that Bucky is here.” She smiled, her breathing visibly slowing down.

“Well, I’m staying the night so you have nothing to worry about,” he chuckled, following her to the bedroom.

“Bucky covered his motorcycle?” she asked, worried his vehicle would get ruined.

“Leave that for now, we’ll hose it down together tomorrow when it’s sunny.”

“Corgi loves the hose,” she spoke out the first thought that came to her mind and Bucky loved it, laughing heartily at her comment.

The dog’s ears perked at the sound of his name, jumping at Bucky’s feet as soon as he entered the bedroom, waiting for his share of pets.

He bent down to give the dog some love when he heard her sigh.

“Corgi loves Bucky too.” She smiled shyly, internally wishing her name was Corgi.

“Bucky loves Corgi right back,” Bucky whispered, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

She only smiled bigger, running to her bed and getting under the covers.

When Bucky got down to sleep on the floor that night, however, she slipped off her bed and right next to him.

“Doll, the floor is too cold for you. Sleep on your bed, come on.” Bucky sat up, wanting to help her up on the bed again but she wouldn’t move.

“Wanna be next to Bucky,” she said with a pout.

“But-”

“I know Bucky can’t sleep on beds. It’s okay. Doll will sleep here,” she told him, squeezing Wolfie in her arms.

Bucky’s heart fluttered and it made his mind light up with an idea only a true daddy would have.

“Do you wanna build a fort?” He suggested and her face instantly beamed with a smile as she nodded.

Of course she did!

That night as Bucky gathered all of her soft blankets to make her a floor mattress inside a fort full of fluffy pillows, he knew he was smitten.

This girl had him head over heels for her and there was nothing in the world that he wouldn’t do just to see her smile.

“Can Bucky please tell me a story?”

“Sure, doll. Do you have any books I can read to you from?”

“I have books that big me likes but I don’t want those.”

“What would you like then?”

“I want a story that is Bucky’s. Tell me a story you didn’t tell anyone at the institution.”

Oh, she was jealous. The thought made Bucky smile as he pulled the covers up to her neck to make sure she was warm down on the floor.

“Okay, you ready?” Bucky asked, dimming the lights in her room.

She made herself comfortable under the covers, big eyes watching Bucky’s handsome grin as the cozy atmosphere he’s created comforted her through the storm, “ready.”

“Once upon a time, there was a small idiot who picked up fights with boys much bigger than himself. His name was Steve…”

Bucky fell asleep with his hand stroking her hair, watching her soft breaths leave her chest that night without abruptly waking up in the middle of it for the first time in forever.

~

Bucky didn’t know what it was like to be her, but he was going to do his best to put himself in her shoes like she’d previously tried.

She deserved to be fully and entirely understood.

He witnessed a glimpse of her feelings towards the concept of family a couple of times when they would watch movies like The Lion King or Lilo and Stitch.

She didn’t seem to be affected by the death of Mufasa even though he knew her to be a very sensitive little. She was sad for Simba, of course, but not for Mufasa’s demise. Similarly with Lilo and Stitch, she didn’t care much about the concept of the family.

There was an actual barrier separating her from experiencing any positive feelings that came with the idea of family. Because she had none to associate with hers.

With some more research, Bucky managed to find a few animated movies that didn’t seem to revolve around the idea of family love and how family was everything and whatnot.

One of those movies was The Willoughbys. The movie depicted how neglecting some parents can be and that 2 people loving each other and getting married didn’t necessarily mean they would love their children too.

It was a very unique movie and Bucky was actually happy they could make such movies nowadays.

When the song I Choose You started playing in the movie, Bucky felt her small hand squeezing into a fist.

He silently wrapped his hand around hers, offering quiet comfort and support.

“Bucky chooses you, doll. Wholeheartedly.” Bucky reassured, bringing her knuckles to his lips.

He looked down to see tears in her innocent eyes as she showed her feelings for the first time during one of their movie nights.

“Bucky chooses me?” she croaked, lip trembling as she cried.

“I choose Bucky, too.” She pulled him down by one cheek to leave a kiss on the other.

Bucky froze.

It was the first time she’s kissed him since he applied that cream on her burnt hand back at his house. She did it on her own, too.

“And I choose Corgi,” she said, running her fingers through the hair of the puppy sleeping soundly on her lap.

“That’s right, and Corgi chooses you. Family doesn’t have to be the ones you were born with, doll,” Bucky told her as he wiped her tears away, “you can choose the family you want for yourself”.

“Thank you, Bucky.” She hugged him tight, afraid he might not be real and that this moment is all made up.

“You’re welcome, doll.” Bucky kissed the side of her head as they pulled away.

“Can I choose Adam, too?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper as she gauged Bucky’s reaction.

She could actually hear his chest rumble with a low “argh” before he nodded despite himself, making her giggle.

“Don’t worry. I only have one Bucky.” She reassured, slinging her arm around Bucky’s metal one.

One daddy, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. She was still scared.

~

Bucky knew that she needed her own independent time alone sometimes even when little, and he would allow her just that, texting throughout the day just to make sure she was okay, reminding her to drink water and take care of herself.

But there was one particularly hard weekend when she felt real down about some of her plants dying as the storm took them out of the ground.

When she opened the door she was clearly disheveled, hair all messy and looking like it hadn’t been brushed all week.

“Hey, doll,” Bucky spoke gently as he closed the door behind him.

She quickly ran into his arms, needing the comfort more than anything, “my plants are dead and Corgi peed on my new carpet and my hair doesn’t smell like shampoo anymore and I’m-”

Damn. She was spiraling. She just slipped out of his hug and on the floor. Oh no.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here now and I got you, okay?” Bucky tried his best to reassure her, getting on his knees before her to look into her eyes.

“Okay,” she hiccupped, nodding even though she wasn’t fully convinced.

“What happened to the plants?” Bucky wanted to handle her concerns one at a time.

“My apple trees were pulled out of place because of the storm,” she started sobbing again as she remembered what had happened to her hard word.

“Okay, okay, tell you what, I’ll put them back in place, okay?”

“Really?” She sniffed.

“Really.” Bucky smiled kindly.

“Okay.” She nodded, trying to control her breathing.

“And we’ll throw the new carpet in the washing machine, and keep Corgi in his playpen with pee pads,” Bucky gave her the steps of how the day was going to go, leading her by the hand to where Corgi was.

“Okay.” She nodded again, her tears ceasing.

“And while the carpet is being washed, I’ll help you wash your hair. Does that sound okay?” Bucky asked her permission, wanting to make sure she was completely comfortable.

“Yes.” She was finally smiling again as well.

“Okay, let’s get you in here,” Bucky told the puppy before placing him inside his playpen.

He spread a few sheets on which the dog could pee if needed before collecting the affected mat.

“Let’s take this to the washing machine,” Bucky voiced his movements, wanting to put her at ease as he kept her hand in his and walked with her to the bathroom.

“In you go.” Bucky threw the rug inside the washing machine along with some detergent.

“Now what do we do?” He asked her, wanting to keep her out of her head.

“Wash doll’s hair?” She asked with half a smile.

“That’s right, get in there.” Bucky tilted his head towards the bathtub with a smile.

~

And for some reason, it was different this time. He didn’t feel all weird seeing her naked. Maybe it was because he knew her better this time and was familiar with her in more ways than one that such intimacy didn’t startle him.

He wasn’t sure, but Bucky wasn’t complaining, only grateful as she closed her sweet eyes and trusted him to wash her hair for her.

“Alright, show me how it’s done,” Bucky encouraged, instructing her to whip her hair to the front so he could wrap the towel around it.

She did as told with a giggle, dangling her hair before her and letting Bucky wrap it up the best he could.

“Off to the couch.” Bucky chuckled as he watched her skip in her cashmere bathrobe to her couch.

Later after Bucky has brushed her hair for her, he helped her get dressed and they went outside together to replant the fallen apple saplings the wind had knocked down just like he'd promised.

The smile on her face was new and unmatched as she watched Bucky handle her plants with care.

“Thank you, Bucky.” She hugged him close, hardly wanting to let go as they stood in the middle of her garden.

Bucky was now rooted in her heart just like the plants in her garden were in their soil.

She didn’t think she could be away from him anymore. She didn’t want to be away from him anymore.

“Daddy, I’m hungry,” she whispered timidly as they started walking back to the house.

“What do you want on your piz- what did you say?” Bucky stopped in his tracks.

“I’m hungry.” She bit her lip and looked away quickly, hesitant now that his eyes were on her.

“Before that, doll.” Bucky brought her eyes back to his by her chin.

“D-daddy?”

Bucky smiled a smile that reached his eyes as they lit up with gratitude. He couldn’t believe he was finally hearing that word.

“Daddy’s thinking pizza, doll. Sound okay?”

Her face glowed up with her own smile as she witnessed Bucky, with full commitment, refer to himself as daddy.

She nodded, knowing this was going to be the most delicious pizza she was ever going to eat.

~

“What is daddy thinking?” She asked when she noticed his eyes on her, slipping a loose strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear.

“Just thinking about all the things you make me feel, doll.” He smiled, turning his face to kiss her hand before it left his face.

Her face started heating up as she retracted her hand, tingles spreading all over her, “things like what?”

“You make me feel like there’s still good in this world. Like I’m worth patience and kindness and maybe even… love,” Bucky voiced his feelings, eyes dreamy as they watched her pretend to be focused on organizing her stuffies’ seats on the floor.

“You are, daddy,” she replied sincerely, hurting inside that Bucky might doubt this even a little.

“I can’t believe I was so horrible to you, doll.” Bucky’s sigh came out hot from his chest, holding so much regret.

“That’s in the past, daddy. Doll doesn’t think about it no more.” She smiled, her littler hand covering his own lovingly before giving a soothing squeeze.

“You’re just perfect, aren’t you?” Bucky held her hand up and gave the back of it a noisy kiss.

She laughed, face heating up more at the sweet attention, “no body’s perfect, remember?”

Bucky tried to continue laughing with her but he was still kicking himself for what he did to her during her visit to his house.

“How did you even tolerate me back then, doll? I was the worst.” Bucky covered his face with his hands as he threw his head back, laying on his back on the floor full of shame.

“That’s not true. You just misunderstood me and that happens!” She was quick to defend him, refusing the idea that he would even criticize himself, “daddy is the best.”

“I know, but it still gave me no right to treat you the way I did.” Bucky’s eyes teared up at the memories of his very mean words and actions, “I made you cry a lot.” He struggled to forgive himself for that one.

“Daddy, I forgave you, I swear,” she promised, her hands cradling his full cheeks.

She felt like her heart might stop from sadness if Bucky was to cry right now.

“I’m really sorry. I’m really really sorry, doll.” Bucky’s eyes were sincere, holding so much emotion in them that she felt her own begin to fill up with tears.

“Daddy, you don’t need to apologize no more,” she whispered, doing her best to hold back tears.

“You have made me the luckiest man on earth by accepting me as your caregiver, your daddy, and you’ve taught me so much, doll.” Bucky actually started crying, a lot of held-inside feelings coming out at once.

“Daddy.” Her thumb wiped under his eyes gently as she felt her own tears roll down, “don’t say stuff like that”.

“But I need to. Because you did. You taught me unconditional love and acceptance. You taught me what it means to live again. Doll, your patience with my terribleness has taught me that maybe I’m not a hopeless case after all, and that this shell of a man with a metal arm might be capable of things he thought have been wiped from his memory long ago.”

“Daddy, please stop crying,” she sobbed, pressing her forehead to his chin as her attempts at wiping his tears away have proven to be futile.

“I love you so much, doll. I love you with every old bit of me and if you’ll have me…”

“Daddy?” she raised her head, eyes on Bucky’s face, trying to read his expression.

Could Bucky really be asking what she thought he was asking?

“Doll, I want you to be my baby for more than just a few days. Would you give me that honor? Would you let me be your daddy for real?”

“Daddy, are you sure?” she nervously bit her lip.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything before.” Bucky promised.

She nodded frantically, afraid the offer might disappear if she took too long to respond, “yes.”

“Thank you, doll.” Bucky breathed as he pulled her to him, strong arms engulfing her in a protective hug.

“Daddy will not regret it later?” her eyes watched him, a small hint of doubt still tainting her trust.

“Do you like the moon, doll?”

“Yes.” She tilted her head, not understanding the relation between her question and Bucky’s answer.

“You know how our sky only has one moon?”

She nodded.

“My heart is just like that. It can only have one doll no matter how much time passes.”

“Oh.” She sniffled, trying to hold the tears in.

“I love you, doll.” Bucky gave her hair a long kiss.

“I love you, daddy.” She kissed his chest, her arms tightening their hold around him as best as she could, never wanting to be away from him again.

And she wasn’t going to be. Bucky was an idiot who let her go once; never again was he going to make that mistake.

He was blessed with her now and he was going to spend every day of his life proving he was worthy of this blessing.

~

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[overtake]

“a sexual awakening so intense it registered on the richter scale” is the single best and most accurate description I have ever heard.

pov: you're 16 years old and doing the final test for your super license ahead of joining f1 as the youngest ever driver. you expect the doubt and hate, and you know you can prove on track why you deserve to be there once you actually get in a car, but until then, you just have to be the subject of everyone's headlines and criticism for a factor you can't control.

then this guy comes along.

race winner who got himself to a top team and is beating his world champion teammate, a cool older handsome charismatic guy with a giant smile and big brown eyes, beloved and kind while still being fiercely talented, competitive, and hungry? the guy who you met in 2011 and who gave you the time of day before you were old enough to sniff at the f1 grid. he's not even going to be your actual teammate (yet), but he still takes the time to tell you he's looking forward to seeing you on the grid when so much of what you've heard is nonstop criticism.

he tells you good luck for your super license with a big grin meant just for you

and this is how it makes you feel.

this is live footage of daniel ricciardo becoming a permanent fixture in max's spank bank. it's one of those foundational crushes you have at a young age that sticks with you for life and unconsciously affects "your type" forever and never truly goes away.

also, i just think everyone should hear the way max very softly says "he's a really nice guy, yeah" with so much affection packed into every word.

how are you not to psychosexually imprint on him? one look at that video and max was ready to risk it all. he's been metaphorically tucking his hair, kicking his feet, and giggling since day one. he found a guy who he could race hard, who would challenge him on track, but who would still make the miserable pr days better for them, who was always laughing at max's jokes every time he did his little glance over to ensure it landed. max is so fiercely loyal to his people, and daniel has clearly earned that trust.

tldr: max verstappen is number one dirlie and if he were on f1blr, he would be writing long posts with onboards, data, and that ☝️🤓 attitude of his explaining in detail why everyone is wrong about daniel, and i hope it haunts all the max fans who get their rocks off to calling daniel a washed asshole loser that max's porn folder is daniel late braking compilations.

#ask #this got long. sorry. i also took a 5 minute crying break over old videos of daniel. #my exams start in a week and this is what i'm doing #anyway #OBVIOUSLY i don't think you have to like daniel ricciardo in order to love max. #but it's perplexing to me that people can look at someone who makes max so visibly happy #and dedicate their entire life to obsessively hate-posting about him. #move on! ignore him! #i couldn't tell you anything about a driver i hate's race besides the basic race coverage #because i don't dig into every facet of it to feed an pathological hatred. #i definitely couldn't tell you things about their personal life/anything what they've been up to/recent quotes/etc #because i just see them and scroll. wish others had that ability. #maxiel

[sc0tters]

Guest Room | Trevor Zegras

summary: sometimes all you need is a trip away to an old friend.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, oral (m receiving), use of a sex toy, swearing.

word count: 4.62k

authors note: this is acc for a Trevor I have never written for in pre ducks debut so this takes place in 2021! I wanted to change things up for our f1 x hockey playlist so here we have one who is a rookie! I think it should be a given by now but we need to thank @sweetestdesire for letting me pick her Trevor smut brain to help write this one out!

You needed a break. 

Life had been on this weird high after you won the Formula Two championship and were now moving up into the McLaren F1 team as a reserve driver. You hated how out of place you felt yet that somehow you still hadn’t done enough to be where you deserved to be. 

You had settled into your apartment in London now and after spending Christmas with your family you got an offer you couldn’t resist. Trevor had just returned home from the World Junior Championships and he was in need of some company in his apartment. He was back in San Diego awaiting his debut for the Gulls but that didn’t matter for him as he craved seeing the one person who was ready to be honest with him. You craved that attention too as you were at your wits end with everyone in your parents lives wanting to know about your career “you stay safe okay?” Ellen sighed as she pulled you into her arms. 

It made Jim smile as you rolled your eyes “Z might be irresponsible but at least you know who killed me if I go missing.” You joked seeing your mom grow unimpressed “you should get going before you are late kid.” Jim pointed out as he kissed your head before he ushered you off. 

Even as you went off in the world before each race your parents were watching as you left to the airport. Hockey fans were all around with most in redwings gear, making your bluejays cap blend you in as though you were meant to be a mere fly on the wall. You watched your brothers do well in both Vancouver and New Jersey when they seemed to have everything under control like they knew what they were doing was right for them. 

You used to love racing, it was your everything. But spending a season forcing every free moment you had into training only to be beaten to a seat, it killed you. It threw this spanner into the works that fried your brain leaving you unsure about everything as you lacked the simple clarity that was once your comfort. 

That was part of the reason you couldn’t say no to joining Trevor. He might have always been Jacks friend first but that boy knew how to react to whatever it was you seemed to feel. So in that moment you just needed someone to be honest with you. 

San Diego was warmer than Michigan as you were now getting ready to discard your coat as there was no snow in sight“speedy!” As ironic as your nickname was, Trevor didn’t give it to your for your speed on a track in your car. He gave it to you because he has never seen someone run away from a group of teenager boys after a work out as fast as you do. 

You whipped your head around with a soft smile on your face as you locked eyes with the older boy “it’s good to see you.” He mumbled pushing himself off of his car as he made his way over to you “wish I could say the same mr MVP.” You teased barely being able to contain your smile as you let out a laugh at the feeling of his arms around you. 

It was one place that you always seemed to feel comfortable no matter where you two were “don’t start with me ms world champion.” It didn’t take him long to see that is joke didn’t land in the way that he wanted it to “think you’ve been on a long flight.” He announced taking your suitcase from behind you letting his one arm stay wrapped around your waist. 

Being back around him already was having an impact on you as you felt like you were melting into his touch “thank you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, one you swore he couldn’t hear. But instead he smiled as he nodded opting to keep his newfound joy to himself. 

In all honesty you were surprised when you saw his apartment, the ride to the building was just enough time that you were both able to catch up on life. But now you were stood in an apartment that had not one but two properly decorated rooms “when did you decide to get a bed?” You cocked your head remembering to the time where he had only an air mattress on the floor for weeks.

It made him pull his eyes into a sharp line “ha ha very funny.” He placed his keys in the bowl before his eyes shot to the grey couch in front of him “but my mom came and decorated the place.” His confession made your lips form into an o shape.

You clasped your hands together “I knew it!” A laugh left your lips as you were happy to hear that you were right “yes now would you like to come sit and tell me why you picked San Diego over New Jersey?” Jack had let it slip to Trevor how irritated he was that you didn’t want to see your brother but instead his best friend. 

Trevor tapped the cushion next to him motioning to you to join him on the couch “I needed to get away.” You confessed as you shrugged “Jack means well but he thinks reserve is such a great position for me.” Your scoff wasn’t missed as you shook your head. 

The boy felt bad as he knew your brother hadn’t shut up about your achievements “you deserve to be on a team.” Trevor disagreed with your opinion “and I will always let you come back here to avoid your brothers.” His words made you smile. 

He watched you pull your feet on the cushion “be careful because soon you won’t get rid of me.” You joked as you let out a giggle “hey at least you know how to cook.” Trevor shrugged making you scoff. 

You threw the pillow behind you at him resulting in his laugh echoing off of the walls of his apartment “I would not cook for you!” You shook your head “you wouldn’t have to do it every day.” The boy countered as he smiled. 

The two of you got the chance to just sit there in this peaceful silence “but on a real note could you cook tomorrow night?” He began as he scratched the back of his head “I have practice late and I don’t think either of us can be doing restaurants two nights in a row.” He explained as your stomach growled on cue “you want dinner now?” Trevor teased as he smiled running his fingers over your knee.

You wanted to act like you were but as the last thing you had was the cut up fruit you had for breakfast and the overpriced bottle of water from the airport “let me get dressed.” You were in dire need of a proper change out of your winter clothing for the warmer weather that the west coast sported “and y/n.” Trevor called out as he watched you walk to the guest bedrooms door. 

You cocked your head as you nodded “I’m glad that you’re here.” His confession was so sweet that if any of the other boys heard him, Trevor would have been chirped at forever “me too.” You smiled ad you walked into the guest bedroom letting the door shut behind you. 

When Trevor left for practice you found yourself at a mall. The boy said he was going to be gone for hours with a game prep session right after which gave you both ample time to shop for groceries and window shop. Part of you had been left irritated as there was a new headline that again called into question your abilities as a driver if all you were getting was a reserve role. 

It was just another tap at your sanity that was only left feeling worse after last night. You had woken up in the middle of the night needing a glass of water when you heard Trevor. He clearly had a video open of some sort as you could hear both foreign female and male voices. But what got to you about it was that it was porn. 

Trevor let whimpers and moans fall from his lips that were enough to make you squirm as you had been feeling sexual frustrated. The last time you had sex was well over six months ago and your fingers and brush handle could only do so much for you and it wasn’t enough. 

So when you walked by Lotions and Lace it was as though your thoughts had been answered. You had never made the jump to sex toys before but with your only other current option being your brother’s best friend it seemed like the better of the two. Your eyes settled on the first vibrator you found as it was hot pink and on some massive display case. 

Before you knew it you were back at his place with dinner in the oven as you stared at the bag in front of you. The box that held the vibrator peeked out from the corner, with some over exaggerated message about pleasure on it that made your cheeks grow warm.

Your foot tapped against the floor as you looked to your watch and then back to the box, before your eyes settled on the door to Trevor’s room. He had shut it before he left but you could still hear the faint moans from last night as you let your hand form a fist as your thighs pressed against each other “fuck it.” You grumbled grabbing the bag from the table as you headed to your own room. 

You didn’t bother with shutting the door behind you. Since you could feel the wet patch forming on your panties, and you swore you were going to have at least twenty minutes before Trevor came home. Your leggings were stripped from your legs as you pulled your panties down with them making sure to kick both items of clothing away. 

The buzzing noise echoed in your ears as you trailed the head of the vibrator over your clit as your thighs spread “fuck.” You whimpered feeling your thighs begin to squirm. 

The picture of Trevor’s moans played in your mind as you caught your lower lip between your teeth. Your eyes screwed shut as you began to tease yourself enjoying the feeling of pleasure that you hadn’t felt in years “please Z.” The whimper fell for your lips as you began to picture him on top of you. 

Trevor smiled as he walked back into the apartment as the smell of chicken in the oven invaded his nostrils “y’know the offer to come live as my chef is still on the table.” He joked thinking you were sat in the living room “god.” You moaned feeling your eyes roll back into your head. 

It was enough to make the boy freeze as he realised what was going on. He felt wrong letting his eyes trail to your room but somehow he couldn’t find a way to stop himself. Your moans echoed in his ears and as his cock grew harder in his shorts. 

He let his bag drop to the floor as he cleared his throat “I’m so close Z.” The whimper made him walk closer to your room as he wondered if he heard you right “feel so good Trev.” Now he knew you were talking about him. 

The boy took more steps to your door until he finally let his eyes stick in the opening of the door. You were a heavenly sight as you were in a strappy top and nothing on your bottom half was bare as you continued to tease your clit with your new toy. 

Trevor couldn’t help but grunt as you moaned letting your body squirm against the sheets. The sudden noise made your eyes shoot open to the door where the boy stood “hey pretty girl.” You continued what you were doing as you watched him stare at you. 

He smirked watching your free hand travel up to your breast “need more.” You moaned again starting to feel like you were getting close “you think I’d just let you get to come that fast?” Trevor sucked at his teeth as he crossed his arms. 

Your face dropped as he laughed “c’mon you’d have to beg if you want anything more.” The boy explained walking closer to you “want you to make me feel so full.” You begged feeling tears form in your eyes as he smirked.

The boy stood his ground “so is that why you decided to act like a little slut and fuck yourself on my guest bed?” His words made your cheeks turn red as you nodded “needed it so bad.” You confessed as you watched him hover over you. 

His hand dropped to yours as he helped control your hand wanting to get you to come “be a good girl and let go then.” He took control of your vibrator as he tilted it closer to your clit “fuck!” You groaned arching your back as you drove your hips closer to the toy.

Trevor watched in awe as pleasure shot through you reached the high “god right there!” You whimpered feeling your thighs shake as they began to clamp together. 

He didn’t let it stop as he watched he’d you continue to fuck yourself through your orgasm “please Z enough.” You shook your head trying to pull away from him “you think you have been a good girl?” He asked seeing tears stream down your cheeks from the overstimulation as your cunt burned.

As you stayed quiet the boy finally listened pulling it away from you “holy shit.” Your chest heaved as you pushed your hands through your hair “you still with me pretty girl?” Trevor toyed the toy off as he helped you sit up straight “felt so good.” Your confession was quiet as you stared at the ground. 

It made him smile as he ran his fingers under your chin “c’mere doll.” He muttered as he cupped your cheeks pulling you closer to him “think it’s about time I get to taste you.” Trevor dropped his head to kiss you.

The kiss was needy as his tongue grazed across your lower lip “mhm.” The hockey player let out a grunt as you straddled his lap given yourself the upper hand. 

You propped yourself up by your knees as the taste of his kiss had remnant’s of the Gatorade you assumed he drank after practice “fuck baby.” Trevor let out a grunt as he watched you grind your hips into his. 

He let his hands travel down to your hips trying to stop you “I’m gonna need you to behave before I come in my fucking pants.” He warned shaking his head as he looked down to the new wet patch that was forming on his pants “you’re no fun.” You let your lips form a pout as you kissed him once more before you slid onto the floor letting your knees rest on the cool wooden floor. 

The boy swore he was dreaming as he watched you sit there “think it’s time I make you feel so good.” You cooed sending him a smile as you ran your hands up his sweatpants “fuck please baby.” He begged propping himself up as he placed his hands behind him.

You tugged at his sweatpants pulling them down with his boxers. His cock sprung out as it hit his torso “you look so pretty.” You mumbled licking your lips as you felt your mouth water “it’s all for you doll.” He confessed biting at the inside of his cheek when your hand wrapped around his cock.

You pumped them up and down a few times before you watched his precum ooze out of the swollen head “fuck don’t tease me.” Trevor groaned watching your head drop to the point where you were mere millimetres away from him “ask me nicely.” You let out a dry laugh looking up at him. 

Your hand began to speed up leaving him quiet  “not so brave are you know big boy?” You cocked your head as you grazed your thumb over his head picking up the precum leaving Trevor to watch as you brought your hand up to your mouth wrapping your lips around the finger. 

Your tongue swirled around it letting out a moan as you could taste the saltiness on your tongue “please.” Trevor found himself jealous of your finger and he couldn’t believe that he was willing to admit that too “since you asked so nicely.” You nodded smiling to yourself as you slipped your thumb from your lips watching the trail of spit break from your mouth. 

The hockey player didn’t need to say anything more as you wrapped your lips around his cock “fuck you’re perfect.” Trevor let out a grunt as his hands went to your hair. 

You hollowed your cheeks out as your nose hit his pelvic bone trying to take as much of him as you could. The boy watched you look up at him through hooded eyes “keep sucking that cock f’me.” He mumbled as you fell into this steady rhythm.

He was in awe as the sound of you gagging echoed in his ears as you tried to take more of him each time you let your mouth take more of him as you tilted your head trying to open your throat. Trevor swore it was pure heaven as he began to bring his hips up to meet your face trying to get himself closer to that high. 

Last nights efforts felt like a distant thought as Trevor had spent it picturing that you were instead around his cock, rather than his own hand “I’m gonna.” The hockey player let out a grunt as your hand replaced your mouth once more “go make a mess for me Z.” You cooed kissing his lips again. 

The taste was addictive as he tried to stop himself “just want to make you feel so good.” You mumbled locking your eyes with his as he nodded “want to taste you before you fuck me so good.” Was the last thing that left your lips before you dropped your head again. 

Your pace was brutal practically sucking his cock like it was a lollipop “Jesus y/n.” Trevor grunted as his head fell back when he came letting his release coat the back of your throat “you’re a fucking god.” He mumbled blissfully unaware as you let his limp cock fall from your lips. 

You felt some of his release ooze from the side of your mouth “taste so good.” You mumbled bringing your hand to pot it back into your mouth. He swore that if he wasn’t still coming down from his first orgasm he would have come again. 

Trevor cleared his throat when you crawled back into his lap “wanna be a good girl and swallow f’me?” He asked as he cocked his head letting his hand wrap around your throat when you nodded. 

His hand caught the feeling of the release going down your throat “fuck you’re a pretty girl.” He muttered running his finger over your lower lip “I need you Z.” You pleaded letting out a whimper as you felt his cock beneath you. 

As you clenched your cunt the sensation made you both squirm “what do you want baby?” He asked cocking his head as he began to grind your hips against his. 

It made you hiss “your cock.” You got straight to the point as you felt your eyes flutter “ask nicely.” He taunted reminding you of the antics you played earlier on. 

You swallowed back a moan “I wanna feel so full of your cock.” You whined biting at your lower lip “want you to fuck me like you mean it.” You pleaded letting a shaken breath leave your lips.  

That was all he needed as he picked you up “Trevor!” You squealed wrapping your arms around his neck “just want to fuck you properly doll.” He explained with a smile laying you down on your sheet. 

He pulled his top off of his torso  before he was left with the sight of you already naked as you stripped out of your vest “think you already knew you were gonna get fucked real good tonight.” Trevor smirked kicking his sweatpants off as he found himself crawling to get closer to you “gonna let me fuck you raw?” The question came more so because he didn’t have any condoms on hand or in his room and he knew he wasn’t going to risk going to the store to get more, letting this opportunity slip past him.

You nodded running your fingers over your breasts “wanted you.” You whined making the boy smirk as pumped his cock ensuring that it was hard again “and now my pretty little girl is gonna get me all that easy huh?” The boy let out a grunt before he situated himself back between your legs “if you won’t Z I am sure that the little toy down there could do me just fine.” You snapped as your eyes pulled into a sharp line.

It made him laugh how he could get under your skin so fast even as your nipples peaked due to the cool air that the fan in your room created “no need to get all angry on me now doll.” Trevor clicked his tongue as he ran his cock over your clit resulting in a whimper leaving your lips.

He repeated the action twice more watching as his tongue darted out of his lips from pure concentration “just fu-ck god!” You practically jumped out of your skin as you felt him thrust his cock into your cunt letting his hips meet yours as he gave you no time to adjust. 

The boy smirked letting his head come closer to yours as he halted his movements taking in the sight properly “it’s just me.” He smirked running his fingers up your torso letting his hands cup your breasts ‘fuck off.” You grumbled as his head dipped to your shoulder.

His lips nipped at your tender skin “now that is no way to talk to me when you’re currently full of my dick.” The boy sucked at his teeth as he shook his head enjoying how he could hear just how much his actions left you stagnating your breath “please move.” You pleaded feeling your cunt throb as your walls hugged his cock.

It made him smile as he let his arms go on either side of you trapping you where you were “fuck baby.” He moaned driving his hips away before he pushed them back towards you setting up a painfully slow rhythm, like he wanted to torture you.

Your hands found themselves on either side of his cheeks “and here I was thinking that this mouth was good.” His chain lay flat against your neck as his forehead rested against yours “bout to get me stuck on this cunt.” The possessiveness in his voice made your cunt clench around him as your legs wrapped around his waist resulting in him reaching a deeper part of your core.

His lips grazed yours in a lousy effort to muffle his moan ‘but maybe you would like that?” When you didn’t answer his question immediately he began to increase his pace treating you like you were all of a sudden the last girl he was going to sleep with on this planet “want to be here forever.” You cried out as your breasts began to jolt against his skin with each thrust.

The desperation to come all over again hit you both as if this wouldn’t have been your second orgasms of the night “wanna make you never leave this apartment.” Trevor confessed letting his teeth tug at your lower lip making you whine in pleasure “just fucking make me cum first.” You grumbled letting your mouth form an o shape as he hit your thigh with a soft slap.

Trevor shook his head growing irritated at this new found attitude  of yours as he was trying too give you everything that you should have wanted “you want to be a brat and I’ll leave you without that fucking toy.” He warned honestly in half the mind to break it as you clearly weren’t going to need it whilst you were still with him.

His pelvic area grazed your clit making your eyes flutter as you drove your hips up desperate to feel that all over again “thought you liked this cunt too much?” You quipped back through gritted teeth trying your best to ignore how your legs began to shake “didn’t say I needed you to cum first though doll.” The warning was in genuine as you both knew he was going to make sure he fucked you through your own orgasm before he even thought about his own.

The sound of skin slapping was enough for you to break “please let me cum and I’ll let you fuck me whenever you want.” If the boy wasn’t currently the closest thing he has felt to pussy drunk he might have actually laughed at the offer “even on the boat?” In a drunk game of confessing things to the boy, you had let it slip that you had some fantasies about a guy fucking you on the family boat if you two took it for a night cruise. But of course it would only be someone who you liked enough to meet your brothers.

You nodded feeling his hand slide between your two sweaty bodies “anywhere you want.” You mumbled writhing your back against the sheet when his fingers came into contact with your clit “you like that don’t ya pretty girl?” Trevor teased feeling your cunt clench around him once more.

A whimper left your lips as he arched his back allowing his lips to latch onto your left nipple with his tongue swirling around the sensitive bead “please let me cum Z.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as he nodded “go make a mess on my cock.” His order came as he moved his attention to your other breast topping you over the edge when he locked his eyes with you.

It made you screw your eyes so tight that you swore you could see stars “fuck fuck fuck!” You chanted writhing your body against your sheet and him as he continued his actions of rubbing his fingers against your clit until your cunt began to clamp down on him in these random bursts trying to milk his cock.

As much as he enjoyed getting to fuck you raw he didn’t want to have to deal with the consequences as he pulled his cock out of your cunt letting his release spray across your lower stomach when his hand began to pump at his cock “god.” He let out a grunt watching the damage he had done like it was an art piece.

You looked up at him through hooded eyes as you smiled “it’s just me.” You mumbled making him laugh as he ran his fingers through your hair to push it out of your face “think I should get you in the shower before we get some dinner.” The smell of the chicken came back to you as you heard the smoke alarm go off “The chicken!”

#trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x reader #hockey imagines #imagines #oneshots #hockey imagine #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #nhl smut #hockey smut #amber writes fics #ambers 1000 celly

[amber-sekio]

Relationship Headcanons

Fandom: BSD -Bungo Stray Dogs

TW: none? I think? 

DAZAI 

I said it in my Soukoku fic, Dazai wouldn’t know affection if it slapped him in the face ten times 

Like he might realize when someone is showing interest in a sexual kind 

And he would probably notice if someone is crushing on him 

But like, if he likes them back? 

No 

Man is blind 

He’s too busy panicking over read denying his own thoughts and feelings over you to analyze your actions 

He’s busy trying to think of anything but how pretty you are when he sees you -thank you very much 

No joke though, this can be applied to pretty much anyone he cares about 

I mean he practically had a heart attack when Atsushi gave him flowers 

Anyways if he finally admits to himself that he likes you then I could see him trying to push you away if I’m being brutally honest 

He doesn’t want to lose you and he believes that anything he wants that he obtains, will be striped from him sooner or later 

But…, in a perfect world he would eventually work up the courage to ask you out 

He would probably avoid directly asking you but this is Dazai so he could defiantly figure out some round-about way to ask 

As for the relationship? 

He would still be his teasing self 

But he would tone it down 

Not because he doesn’t want to annoy you but more so because he actually lets some of his masks down when alone with you 

He defiantly is very clingy to you 

Man has been touch starved for a long time and he fears attachment too much to be touchy with the ADA members 

But now he has you, who not only tolerates him but has decided to stay with him? 

Of course he’s not going to let this chance slip from his grasp before all this inevitably ends (he’s still in denial) 

He never cared much for holidays like Christmas or Valentines 

But now he wants to experience them, with you 

He’s always thinking, plans and outcomes racing through his mind, what ifs and regrets  

But like, if you ruffle his hair, his brain just stops. 

Like no thoughts, he short circuits 

When his brain returned to him the first time it happened he panicked 

Like, who gave you that amount of control? 

After that first time he continued to try and get you to do it without asking 

He needed his brain to shut up every now and then, and now he has a reliable source 

Anyways, he likes to be a spoiled princess 

No one can change my mind 

For all his predictions he will never be able to predict your love and kindness for him 

CHUUYA 

Someone give this poor man a hug 

Ugh, my heart 

I can‘t imagine him wanting to date a normal citizen, too much of a risk 

So you’d probably have to work in the Mafia 

Even then, dating you would still be placing a huge target on you 

He would actually take you out on dates before asking you out 

Dates with him would be romantic 

Like dinner by candle light vibes 

He’d be strategic on where you guys sit 

No need to be precarious on what you order, it’s all on him 

When he does ask you out he would be slightly flustered but it just makes him adorable 

Say yes, he doesn’t deserve to be hurt any more 

He would spoil you to no end 

If you want it, you can have it 

You’re the only one allowed to call him short 

He might get flustered from PDA in the start but will gradually warm up to it 

Nothing clingy, just hand holding, a hand around your waist, a quick kiss here or there 

But if he sees some guy hitting on you? 

Down right possessive, arm snug around your waist, shoulder to shoulder 

And if he’s drunk? Even worse 

Like he’s pulling you onto his lap just to make sure that asshole knows your taken 

If you do work in the mafia with him, he likes going on easier missions with you 

And while he knows that you can handle yourself just fine, he can’t help but imagine something bad happening to you when he isn’t there to save you 

He’s lost too many people in his life, please, don’t leave him as well 

He loves when you rest your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat 

And while you do that he’ll run his fingers through your hair 

Chuuya loves to spoil you rotten as I stated, it’s his love language 

So sometimes he’ll just hand you his black card and let you go shopping with friends or something 

In fact, he encourages you to buy what you want 

FYODOR 

Honestly? Where do I start with him? 

Like congratulations if you meet him and make it out alive 

I don’t know if I should congratulate him taking an interest in you though 

I feel like he believe that the interest he had in you was purely innocent curiosity 

But I also don’t think he would try to delude himself for as long as Dazai does 

Eventually he would notice that something was different about his interest for you than usual 

And while he would hesitate to put a name to it so quickly he would eventually give in after realizing there was no stoping this feeling from festering in him 

After coming to terms with his romantic? Feelings and interest in you he would definitely begin to manipulate you into feeling the same way for him 

If you don’t already that is 

If you don’t confess then he’ll definitely do the same thing Dazai did 

And when you agree, he of course knew you would, he makes you move in with him 

He can’t let his dearest other slip from his finger now can he? 

I feel like before ever getting into a relationship, you would have been made aware of his ‘work’  

Please, make sure the man eats 

And takes his iron pill 

Nikolai is getting a little tired of that daily routine despite how much he loves to be around Fyodor 

Anyways, dates aren’t a very common thing in fact, very, very rare 

I mean… what did you expect? 

Man’s a literal terrorist 

That being said, from time to time he’ll leave his ‘lair’ to spend time with you 

If you ask, he’ll gladly play the cello for you 

If he snaps at you for ‘bothering him with pointless things’ when you bring him his iron pill or food just listen 

Don’t bother him with such things 

And then same thing the next day 

And after some 4 or 5 days he’ll stumble from his room 

Staggering as he tries not to collapse or faint from both his lack of energy and his iron deficiency 

And when he walks into the kitchen trying to get the iron pill bottle open? 

Let him stumble his way over to you and ask for help before you finally do as such 

And he realizes just how dependent on you he’s become 

It’ll happen again eventually 

But as of that moment, it’ll at least be awhile before the cycle repeats 

(That last part of Fyodor’s was based upon some fanfic I read for him. I'm not sure who it was by, but I’ll tag it if and when I do find it.) 

A/N: anyways, believe it or not, I love Chuuya just as much as I do Fyodor and Dazai 

I’m just not as confident in his character. Since I’m a lot like Dazai, he comes easy to me and by substitute, Fyodor does as well 

But Chuuya? Despite him being one of my 5 favorites along with Dazai and Fyodor, I just don’t resonate personally enough with him to write him really well

#bsd chuuya #bsd fyodor #bsd dazai #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #fyodor x reader #author is sleep deprived #fyodor is manipulative #dazai is manipulative #as well #sort of #chuuya is an angel #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #fyodor dostoevsky #bsd #bungo stray dogs #fluff #dazai fluff #chuuya fluff #fyodor fluff #? i guess #??? idk #ok bye

[starkwlkr]

like real people do (sv5)

honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips. we should just kiss like real people do — hozier

i wait for you masterlist

ABU DHABI 2010

“Sebastian Vettel, you are the world champion!”

“The youngest world champion in F1 history!”

Sofia had heard it all. She wasn’t sad that she couldn’t finish the race, she was happy. At least she could see Sebastian cross the finish line. She had changed into a simple t shirt and jeans with some converse. After the race, all she wanted to do was see Sebastian, but she knew he would be busy with post race interviews so Sofia made her way to the Porsche motorhome in search of a snack.

“Sofia! Hey!” She heard Jenson’s voice as she was about to enter the motorhome. “Your lover boy is looking for you!”

Several people in the paddock stared at both Jenson and Sofia wondering who the lover boy was. The woman chuckled as Jenson winked at her. “You do know everyone just heard you?”

“You do know I don’t care.” Jenson said making her roll her eyes. He catches up to her and gave her a hug. “He’s been asking for you.”

“He can wait. I deserve some ice cream after that shit race.” Sofia replied.

“Yeah, we’ll don’t keep lover boy waiting. It’s annoying when he keeps asking for you. I love you, but please I can’t handle another ‘where’s sofia?’.” Jenson joked.

“I’ll go see him in a bit. He’s probably being held back by reporters.” Sofia said. “Would you like some ice cream?”

Jenson didn’t think twice about that. “Yeah, I could go for some.”

—

After finishing the vanilla ice cream, Sofia said goodbye to Jenson and made her way to the Red Bull garage. The celebrations were still going on. Soon, she saw Sebastian being congratulated by other people, one of them whispering something in his ear making him turn around and spot her.

“Schatz!” Sebastian ignored everyone around him and hurriedly pulled Sofia into a hug. “I’m so sorry about-”

“It’s doesn’t matter. You’re a world champion, Seb.” Sofia pulled away from the hug and kissed his cheek that taste too much like champagne. She could feel the stares of people on them. The cameras clicking so fast, she was sure one of them was going to pop up in a gossip magazine the next day.

Sebastian then took her hand and led her to his driver’s room where it was much more private. Now it definitely looked like something a couple would do, but Sebastian could care less. He was world champion and he wanted to celebrate with Sofia.

“My mom called, she told me to tell you that she’s proud of you and congratulations.” Sofia mentioned as she entered Sebastian’s drivers room, him following closely behind.

“When is she coming to a race? I haven’t seen her in a while.” Sebastian asked.

“She’s a teacher, she has teacher duties almost everyday. That woman doesn’t know when to stop working.” Sofia chuckled.

“We have to bring her out to a race. Which one do you think she’ll like? I’ll fly her out.”

“You’re going to make me look like a bad daughter.”

She sat on the tiny bed and watched as he got out a shirt and pants. He changed in front of her many times and it was never awkward, they were that comfortable with each other. He unzipped his suit and let it fall to his waist.

“What are your celebration plans? I’m assuming you won’t be in your hotel room until . . . 4am?” Sofia wondered.

“You mean we. You and I are going out.” Sebastian clarified. “It’s not a proper celebration without my best girl.”

“Oh so now I’m your girl?”

“You’ve always been my girl, my best girl.” He repeated.

Sofia stood up and approached him then whispered into his ear.“Funny, I don’t remember you asking me to be your girl.” She smiled then placed a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll be outside waiting, champ.”

Sebastian knew she was just teasing, but hearing her voice so close made him weak in the knees. Her voice had always brought a great comfort to him.

When Sofia left and shut the door, Sebastian let out a deep sigh. “Shit.” He said as he realized that Sofia Barrett had him acting like a lovesick fool.

—

“Can I speak to you?”

Mark definitely wasn’t expecting Sebastian to be knocking at his hotel room door at 3 am, but here he was. The Australian was exhausted and all he wanted to do was sleep, but Sebastian had other plans.

“Is it important?” Mark asked, half asleep.

“To me it is.” Sebastian replied. Without Mark’s permission, he let himself in. “I need to talk about something that’s been bothering me.”

“Yeah, alright.” Mark said defeated. “What?” He closed the door and walked to his bed.

“Sofia.”

“Sofia . . has been bothering you?” He wasn’t sure if Sebastian was drunk. “Look, I get that I’m older than both of you, but this isn’t like school when someone bothers you and you tattle to the teacher, mate.”

“No, it’s not like that. It’s . . Just don’t make fun of me, okay? I think I’m in love with her, wait no, I am in love with her.” He admitted.

“Are you drunk?”

“I’m completely sober actually. But, yeah, I am in love with Sofia Barrett.” He nodded.

“And this involves me how?”

Sebastian sighed. “I just needed to tell someone and I trust you. Obviously I couldn’t tell Sofia, she’s way out of my league.”

Mark laughed. “Yeah, she is.” He watched as his teammate rolled his eyes. “Did she go out with you to celebrate?”

“She did.” He nodded. “She payed for all the drinks even though I told her not to. She even kissed my cheek many times, not that I’m complaining. She made everyone laugh at the table and then for some reason we started talking about bugs because we saw a bee near by. She started telling me all these facts about bees and I just sat there listening to every word.”

“Oh man, you’re in deep.”

#formula 1 #f1 x oc #sebastian vettel fluff #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #sv5 #sv5 fanfic #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel fanfic

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

This is in response to the "Jason pretending to be/gaslighting himself into actual pregnancy" thread.

What exactly is Alfred’s and Bruce’s reaction to the…news? Like, how did they get told? Did the batkids (-Todd) sit them down, bring the board out, and try to quickly explain the ‘hey your son/grandson may be pregnant, yes it’s possible, halfa biology is a fun thing isn’t it?’ and all that jazz?

Or did Jason announce it randomly in the middle of chaotic family dinner and acted like he didn’t say anything odd, or did he bring it up offhandedly before waking away and ignoring any calls for him to return

Lmao maybe in a different world Jason chooses to announce it during a gala, Peeta ‘if it weren’t for the baby’ Mellark style, and then just let hell ascend.

Or did Danny break it by just simply asking Jason how the baby was

The first time the other boys breakdown.

It’s decided that Jason would tell Alfred at his own time and so they focus on Bruce.

They sit Bruce down in the cave and lay out their evidence the best they can.

And when the others come in later to suit up Bruce tries to bench Jason and that does not go down well.

A full screaming match that hasn’t happen since Jason’s switch, that ends with Bruce just shouting,

“I don’t care what happens out there right now, I can’t allow a pregnant person to put themselves in danger!”

And Jason just freezes in place, the cave is dead silent. Half of the clan is just looking on in confusion. The other boys are refusing to look in their general direction. Stephanie folds herself in half with a laugh and Alfred just raises an eyebrow.

Jason’s has to catch himself on the table to stop himself from falling over from the stitch in his side.

~~~~~~~~~

The second time is after the Desiree incident he goes to talk to with Alfred alone.

The what ifs were keeping him up, he needed to talk to someone who wouldn’t judge him.

They sat together under the island lights with tea and Alfred gave him a gentle hug .

Jason admitted that he didn’t know why he was crying anyways. It was his choice, he knew it was for the best.

Maybe it was just how bad he’s been feeling for the last week.

Alfred doesn’t judge and reassured Jason that he was allowed to feel such ways.

~~~~~~~

The third time it was real casual, so casual in fact that they others just through he was joking.

When the others realized he had completely kicked the last of his smoking habit and just said “for my baby” they thought he had quit during the prank.

When he declined a drink with Bruce and Dick he just said “baby” and they assumed he didn’t feel like it and was joking.

When Jason said he wasn’t going to patrol for awhile they assumed he was taking a well deserved vacation.

It wasn’t until he was a good four months along did they take a hint.

Dick, poking Jason side jokingly: Man little wing, not so little now. I know you’re on vacation and all that but you’re starting to let yourself go.

Jason not looking up from his writing: Gee Dickhead, thanks. Not like I’ve been growing your first nibling or anything.

Dick:…. What?

Jason: you know? My baby? Little thing making a mess of my guts rn?

*The others tuning in at the breakfast table*

Jason: guys, seriously. Did none of you take me seriously?

Damian: it was hard to after the last time

Jason: why’d you think I’ve sat out all the breakouts the last two months???

Tim: I just thought you were being a dick man.

Jason: Thanks. Old man, you good? You have been staring ahead for quite some time.

Bruce, mildly choked up: hmmm

Jason: ok good anyways what do you think about the name ‘Martha Jane Todd Wayne’ for a girl? I thought Jane Martha first but I think Martha Jane sits better on the tongue.

Bruce with an even more choked up expression: hmmm

#dp x dc #writing prompt #danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #dc x dp #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #mother hood au #mpreg

[sixeyescurseuser]

Teachers Satosugu

Thinking about adults Satosugu who become Jujutsu Tech teachers together. They’re married too. In their late 20s, they’ve found sweet domestic bliss in the dangerous yet meaningful life they’ve created for themselves. 

Geto still makes sure to praise Gojo for all the work he does; often surprising Gojo with his favorite sweets or a trip down to the street vendors, saying: “Thank you for your hard work, Satoru” and “Come on, let’s eat something special, you deserve it.”

Gojo still goes on his one hour rants about topics that fascinate him, and Geto listens without complaining. Even if this is the third time digimon has been brought up this week. 

Geto stays at the school to teach for the majority of the time. He only takes missions if they are emergencies and avoids interacting with the higher ups. Thankfully, Gojo is more than willing to deal with that side of work. 

While Geto is involved in both physical training and classroom lessons, he’s more hands-on with the latter. Compared to the Kyoto students, let’s just say that the Tokyo students don’t put in a ton of effort when it comes to their academic scores. 

Geto is fated to be the hardworking but disappointed teacher. 

(Geto: “Nobara, Yuji, c’mon, I am begging you two to study more.)

The thing with Yuji is that he is smart in that he can memorize things and write well, but not being exposed to the sorcerer world from a young age has put him really behind. 

(Geto: “Hasn’t Satoru told you all about Sukuna’s origins and what not? Given you books from the library?”

Yuji: “Oh the library! I forgot that existed!”

Geto: …

Yuji: “Also no, Gojo-sensei didn’t tell me anything yet.”

Geto: 💀💀)

Additionally, Gojo isn’t the best when it comes to structured lessons in the classroom. He’d much rather skip over the boring stuff and show his students the real excitement out on the field.

This is where Tokyo students surpass Kyoto students in fighting abilities. Plus, getting lots of first-hand experience of what sorcerers actually deal with helps them quickly adapt to situations and strategize how to outwit their opponent. 

But book-smart-wise? Megumi carries. 

Once, Yaga gave the first years a firm reprimanding because of the missing past three mission reports. (Excluding Megumi.) Turns out, Gojo didn’t inform the first years about filling out mission reports at all. 

That night, Geto scolds the shit out of Gojo. 

Gojo: “Hey Suguru, isn't that your job? I just help them train their fighting skills, no?”

Geto pinches Gojo’s side - who lets out an undignified yelp - even though he knows Gojo is just joking. Besides, Gojo does try to teach the rules better after Geto’s scolding. Gojo just needs reminders, that’s all.

It doesn’t help that Gojo is literally a prodigy and always does things his own way. 

(Geto, shaking his head: “Lord knows these kids need all the help they can get with you as their teacher.”

Gojo: [jaw open, betrayed]

Cue Gojo decisively turning the other away in their bed. 

Geto: “Oh, did I upset the baby?”

Gojo: “Worse. You upset your husband.”

Geto guffaws.

“My husband can take it.” Geto moves so he’s spooning Gojo.  “Isn’t that right?”

Geto’s breath tickles Gojo’s ear, making Gojo shiver.

What were they talking about again?)

***

Gojo might be busy as hell but Geto will be there to protect their students from the higher ups. 

That mission where Yuji died for a short while after switching with Sukuna to face that special grade? It would never have gotten that bad. Geto would’ve been with his students and protected them.

Geto is anxious to the point where he designates certain curses for specific people, mostly to look after his students. This way, he can be there if his students are in serious danger, preventing more young sorcerers from dying due to the higher ups' negligence.

Of course, Geto’s rainbow dragon has always been assigned to Gojo. 

Gojo will often take Yuji on rides on the rainbow dragon, either for missions or just to be up in the air. When this happens, Geto’s orders for the rainbow dragon consist of: “Only listen to Satoru’s reasonable orders” and “Protect Yuji from Satoru’s recklessness.” 

On another note, Geto’s curses would have intercepted before Todo and Mai could beat the shit out of Nobara and Megumi. Geto himself would show up quickly after, furious when he sees the Kyoto students trying to take out his students. 

(Geto with his murderous glare: “As far as I know, the competition hasn’t started yet. No one should be picking fights with each other, hmm?”

Mai and Todo, quietly: “Of course, Geto-san. We’ll be taking our leave.”

Geto stays standing in front of Nobara and Megumi until the Kyoto students leave.)

Even as teachers, Geto and Gojo are incredibly competitive with Kyoto. Of course they’re going to talk shit during the goodwill exchange event. They’ll watch the broadcast of the competition and loudly cheer their students on. They’ll also whisper to each other in the most obnoxious way. 

Utahime is about to bust her blood vessels. She still throws her tea at Gojo when he makes a snarky comment that pisses her off; the tea bounces off of Gojo’s infinity and splashes all over Geto, who groans. 

Well, that shut the pair up for now. 

***

When Nobara spilled coffee on Gojo’s shirt, Geto had been the one to catch them first. 

(Shaking his head, Geto says: “You guys really did it this time…”

Nobara: “We could just replace it??”

Megumi: “It is 250,000 yen.”

Geto: “It's also Satoru’s favorite white shirt.” He pats Nobara’s shoulder comfortingly.

Yuji: “Geto-sensei, please help us!”

Geto: “And spend the precious money I earned with my own hard work? I don't know, Yuji-kun, I gain nothing from helping you.”

Nobara: “He’s your husband”

Geto: “And he’s your sensei.” He turns to Megumi. “Slash father”

Megumi: 😩😩

Moments later, Gojo enters the room: “Iijichi-kun said you guys have my newly laundered shirt-“

He sees Megumi with two breast bumps.

Gojo: ??

The others laugh as Nobara pulls out the stained shirt, causing Gojo to let out the most horrified, dramatic gasp. 

All the students find it hilarious, but Geto laughs the hardest. He's bent over, hands on his knees, straight up cackling. When Geto somewhat catches his breath, one look at Gojo’s stricken face sends him into another fit of laughter. 

(They are so married.)

Geto walks over and slings himself over Gojo. 

Geto: “It’s okay, Satoru, you can just get another one.”

Gojo: “That was my favorite one, you know this, Suguru~~”

Geto: “Satoru...you’re rich-“

Gojo: “My clothes are important, they aren’t so easily replaceable. Imagine if I had tried to replace you-“

Geto: “Did you just compare me to your inanimate white shirt?”

Geto begins to pull back, but Gojo immediately latches on to him.

Gojo: “Noooo, I didn’t mean it. I love you~~”

They proceed to act out a mini-drama, which ends in Geto leaving with faux-disappointment and Gojo chasing after him.

Consequently, Gojo forgets about his stained-beyond-repair 250,000 yen shirt.

***

When formation B occurs in response to Megumi being “hit on,” Geto watches from afar, disappointment deep in his veins. 

We’re too old for this, he thinks when Gojo reveals Megumi has to master twinkle twinkle little star. 

Having had enough, Geto steps in and tugs Gojo away. 

“Baby, come here, you forgot to take your pills this morning,” Geto says. Gojo gasps in offense. 

“SUGURU, SHUT UP! I'M NOT MENTALLY ILL!“ Gojo cries, but now there’s no way he doesn't look crazy.

Geto has his arms wrapped around Gojo’s waist while Gojo flails to escape. 

“Satoru, stay STILL- NO you are not going back!”

They end up making a bigger scene. Megumi wants to d-word. 

(“With this treasure i summon-“)

Gojo doesn’t care who hears or sees, and is now screeching for Geto to let him go. Left with no other choice, Geto bites Gojo’s shoulder. He also tries to shove his fist in Gojo’s mouth - anything to shut him up.

Geto is going all out like they’re teenagers again. 

(Nobara at Geto: “YEAH GET HIS ASS!”)

Geto eventually becomes aware of the small crowd that has gathered and rethinks his actions. He ends up dragging Gojo by his collar. 

“Ok, we’re leaving,” Geto calls to their students, leaving no room for argument. Megumi immediately follows, dragging Yuji and Nobara in tow.

***

w/ @no-one-says-hi

#jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #jjk headcanon #satosugu fluff #satosugu headcanon #satosugu fanfic #teachers sastosugu #megumi fushiguro #yuji itadori #nobara kugisaki #cerdrabbles

[natti-ice]

The Truth Will Set You Free- Tom Riddle.

Pairing: Tom riddle x fem!reader

Summary: a mysterious letter reveals Tom’s biggest secret.

Warnings: angst, written in third person (she/her pronouns) (1k words)

Author’s note: this is a reupload, I wrote this a while ago!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

"YOU'RE MARRIED?!?" She yelled at him, watching the color drain from his face gave her the answer. Tom closed the book he had been reading peacefully as he lounged in a plush chair in his dorm room.

"What are you talking about, dear?" He swallowed, he saw Y/N holding a piece of paper in her hand, confusion and anger in her facial expressions. He had no idea how this could have got to her, barely anyone knew about this.

"I received this letter this morning" she started, showing him the paper she had been clutching onto for the past twenty minutes. "I don't know if this is some sick joke or if you've been lying to me this whole time. Tom, is it true?" She didn't know what to think, when she got the letter she thought it was someone trying to play with her. But as the letter went on it seemed too real

"Tom and I were wed the summer before his sixth year. Once he graduates we shall start a family together, I believe you deserve to know since there are talks of your attachment to him. Just know, this is how it has to be, he cannot be yours."

Reading this brought a sharp pain in her chest, she thought she knew the man she loved. She knew he had his secrets, but she wouldn't think he would withhold this from her. Her emotions were all jumbled into one, she didn't know what to feel.

"It's true," he said in a hushed tone, his head hung low like a dog being scolded. "You weren't supposed to find out this way"

"Like this? Or was I not supposed to find out at all?" Okay, it seems her anger has gotten the better of her

"Please let me explain, Y/N" Tom begged. His usual stoic demeanor had completely vanished, he had never let his emotions show this way, it made him feel weak.

"I don't know if I want to hear it, Tom. How could you do this to me?"

"I didn't do it to hurt you" he raised his voice as he became angry at himself "I figured if you knew, you would want nothing to do with me" he admitted

"You're probably right about that" she said sarcastically

"Y/N, please don't joke about this" he warned "if you'd let me, I'll explain to you everything that happened. Only the truth" his eyes met hers he could see the pain in them, that shattered his heart. When he met Y/N he knew he had found the only person in the world he could truly care for. She broke down every wall he tried to put up with ease, there was no way he could let her get away.

"Fine, go ahead" she whispered as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat

He sighed, calming his brain before proceeding to tell her about something that has eaten at him every day for the past two years. "At the end of my fifth year, my mother put me into an arranged marriage. I fought and fought to get out of it, but no matter what I said I couldn't get out. She paired me with some pure-blooded floozy who couldn't last a day without her father's money, the day of the ceremony was the worst day of my life. My mother expects me to have children with that girl and I honestly couldn't care less about that stupid girl." Talking about her put a bad taste in his mouth, he hated her with every ounce of his being.

"I just don't get why you didn't tell me" Y/N said during Tom's pause

"I didn't tell you because it's a part of me that I hate. Having my name attached to someone who I will never love, isn't something I'm proud of. When I met you, it was like that terrible situation was in the past and you were my future. For years I have been trying to find a way out of this marriage. I plan to divorce her as soon as I'm done with school." He felt slight relief as he finally got this off his chest, it always weighed heavy on him.

Y/N stood a foot away from Tom, as he explained his story her heart broke more, she had never seen Tom in such pain before, and it definitely wasn't a good feeling to watch. "What about your mother?" She asked

"I don't care about that woman! She hasn't a motherly bone in her body, once I'm done with school I'll never see her again" His hatred for his mother ran deep, Y/N knew he never liked his mother. She understood why, if she was her mother she'd probably feel the exact same way.

"Y/N" Tom reached for her hand, wrapping both his hands around her, bringing it up to his mouth gently kissing the back. "I am very sorry I never told you about this, I've never been good at telling the truth but that's no excuse. I promise you, you are the only person I will ever love." This is the truest thing to ever leave Tom's mouth

God, he's so beautiful she thought, searching for any trace he was lying to her. Sometimes she felt foolish thinking about how much she loved him, his hold on her was so strong. But she wouldn't change a thing.

"I'm so conflicted right now" she admitted, "but I believe you, you swear you want nothing to do with her?"

"Cross my heart, I would never dream of being with her" he brought his hand up to Y/N's cheek, slowly stroking it with his thumb. "You are the only person I want to marry" he whispered

"Good, because I don't think I'd like a life without you" she slightly grinned

"What if, when we're done at this tragic place, you and I run off together? We won't have to worry about anyone else, it'll just be us living our life together" Tom suggested

"That sounds like a very thought out plan, dear" she smirked "perhaps I might take you up on that offer" she leaned in, slightly pecking his lips

"You really have to get those papers signed, Tom. I am no one's mistress" she half-joked but he knew she was serious.

"Anything for you my dear"

Join a tag list!

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x fem!reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle angst #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle

[wonnieluv]

Enhypen…

Surprising you at your graduation

!HYUNG line!

masterlist

tried to be gender neutral but there’s mentions of heels/dresses

Sunghoons got very derailed and has a mild suggestive joke towards the end so be warned

Heeseung

When you found out they were doing an extension of the FATE tour in May, you were a bit scared because that aligned with your graduation. Heeseung had assured you he’d do anything he could to make it but as it would appear there was overlap. Of course you understood, he was always supportive and understanding and you would be too so as sad as you were you made sure to plan a little celebration for when he’s off the tour.

What you didn’t expect was to see Heeseung grinning ear to ear with a bouquet in his hands sitting in the front row when you walked across the stage. It took everything in your body to keep yourself from leaping from that stage and running into his arms but you kept your composure and proceeded to make your way across the stage. The smile on your face with the happy tears forming in your eyes almost made it hard for you to walk down the stairs in your heels but fear not, no one could ruin this moment for you. It was like hell sitting through the rest of the ceremony when the only thing you could think of is getting up from your seat and running to him. When the time came to finally move your tassel you locked eyes with him once again. You didn’t expect to be so emotional but seeing him be there with you on such a huge moment meant the world. You felt as if you could fall in love with him all over again. The bone crushing hug you gave him almost made your family upset that you went to him first before them but the smiles on your faces mixed the tears streaming down your face made any complaints (although joking) go away immediately.

Jay

You were going to school in the Seattle-Tacoma area and your graduation just so happened to PERFECTLY align with the FATE+ tour in Tacoma (ig you could say it was fate 🫣). Despite them having a little extra time in the area compared to other cities, the schedule was absolutely packed. From the concert to the baseball game to trying to find time to rest throughout the days in the US, Jay told you he wouldn’t be able to make it. There were conflicts within the rehearsal time and he already had barely any time to spend with family and friends that you assured him that you would be okay and you would see him at his concert the following day

You pledged to yourself that you knew Jay would support you through anything so you made sure to hold your head high because this was your moment! You worked so hard to get here and you should be so proud of yourself. You received your diploma and sat through the rest of the ceremony watching your peers receive the celebration they deserved. After the ceremony ended you met with your family and friends. They all gave you flowers and their congratulations all being well aware just how hard you worked for this moment. They also knew Jay couldn’t be there sadly so they decided to surprise you with a life size cardboard cutout of him in your favorite outfit from MAMA last year. It brought quite the chuckle from you knowing they were doing it to cheer you up.

“I think I look much better in 3D” you hear from behind you. It doesn’t take more than a second for you to whip your head around and see Jay standing there with the most beautiful bouquet in his hand with a smile to match. You threw yourself at him almost knocking him over as he said a congratulations into your ear. You stayed at the ceremony for a bit longer before he took your family to a restaurant for dinner. When you asked how he was able to make it he told you “we finished our rehearsal just before, I just had to be here to see you.” His reply only made your smile widen. The warmth you felt from his words made the day that much better

Jake

I’m not sure who was more excited for your graduation,you or Jake. He went with you to pick your dress and made sure that you could wear his favorite chain that he always wears when you walk across the stage because, despite his begging, you were not allowed to have him walk across the stage with you. He’s just the cutest throughout everything and he makes sure that you’re staying positive through all of your finals so that you aren’t too stressed. If he can help you with any paper, presentation, project, whatever he’ll sit with you at your desk for hours.

A week before the ceremony he comes up to you and quietly says that he has something to tell you. Believing that something was wrong you sit him down and he can’t even look you in the eye until he says quietly “I can’t go to your graduation baby.” Now of course you’re sad but you never doubt his love and support for you so you comfort him.

Now it was originally his idea to surprise you but he CANNOT LIE. He couldn’t look you in the eye because he knew that if he did he’d bust into a smile and that would ruin the whole plan so he opted to look away. Let’s just say he lasted pretty long. He lasted all the way to the ceremony thinking he did so so well in keeping the surprise but when you entered the auditorium with the other grads and looked him directly in the eye with the brightest smile, he knew that you’d probably known all along but let him have his surprise anyways. So he wasn’t too sad. Just know that he’s made it his life goal to properly be able to surprise you. Who knows his success in that venture might end with a ring on your finger.

Sunghoon

All grads are given a certain amount of tickets so when you had an extra you made sure you’d save it for Sunghoon just in case he could make it. You had asked him if he could and his immediate response was “I’m sorry baby I can’t be there”. Of course you wish he could be there but you both have your busy lives to attend to and you know he’d be thinking of you and was as supportive has he could be without physically being there.

You sent him pictures of all the different dresses and shoes and he gave you his honest opinions on what he thought looked best. He also made sure you had at least one piece of jewelry from him to wear that day as well.

Now as much as you wanted for him to be there, it’s not like you were alone. You were surrounded by friends and family and you were excited to celebrate your achievements with your loved ones. You had all planned to go to a restaurant that you frequently went to for special occasions in town and your parents made a point for you to ask Sunghoon if he could make it. You had to told him he would most likely be busy but you chose to ask anyway. He replied “I’ve got an important event to attend with the boys. It should be over around 5:00pm and I can join then.” Which that was perfect timing because your graduation was set to finish at 5 anyways.

Ceremony day came VERY quickly. You were wearing a very simple Tiffany necklace and bracelet that Sunghoon gifted you that went perfectly with your outfit! You walked the stage and got your diploma that you’ve worked so so hard for before joining your family in the reception area. You had exited the hall and were met with your own eyes staring right back at you. No there was no mirror in sight. You were face to face with your face except it was about 10x bigger the large cutout of your face being held by none other than Park Sunghoon who was also adorning a T-shirt with the same exact picture of your face on it (that may or may not be matching with your parents). You didn’t know whether you wanted to cry out of gratitude for him being there or embarrassment because OH MY GOD there’s a jumbo cutout of your head in this largely populated room. Regardless you go up to him and embrace him in the tightest hug possible.

Let’s just say he’s not impressed with how quickly you try to usher him out of there.

“What I wanted to talk to that professor more? Are you embarrassed baby? I can always take the shirt off you know? But my hands are kinda full can you help me?”

Can you tell he likes to make you flustered 🫣

That was quite the rollercoaster. Let me know if you want a maknae like version!!!

#enha fluff #enhypen fluff #heeseung fluff #jake fluff #jay fluff #sunghoon fluff #lee heeseung #park jongseong #sim jaeyun #park sunghoon #enha heeseung #enhypen heeseung #enha jay #enhypen jay #enha jake #enhypen jake #enha headcanons #graduation #sunghoon crack

[froggywritesstuff]

dysphoria | angel dust

ship/pairing: Angel dust x trans!male!reader (reader has a uterus and still gets his period)

fandom: Hazbin Hotel

request: Can I request Angel Dust comforting his trans boyfriend when he gets his period and is extremely dysphoric and depressed about the whole thing. This whole week has been a shit fest of dysphoria and crying.

warnings: maybe ooc idk , I didn't clarify in my writing but first confession of love i guess, periods, gender dysphoria, swearing, crying, emotional breakdowns, petnames (reader gets called baby), rushed ending, bad sex joke

word count: 758

A/N: sorry this is really short i have zero motivation to do anything 👍 fem and cis readers dni

You didn’t even need to tell Angel what was happening, nor did he need to ask. The second he saw your face contorted into one of discomfort, he was all over you. He hung up a dozen ‘do not disturb’ signs on your hotel room door (though it was basically a shared room at that point), prepared to verbally or physically attack anyone trying to disturb you. Before you could even mention cramps he had a heat pack fresh out the microwave for you, checking every five minutes if it was still warm or if you wanted it reheated. He would cuddle you tightly, him and Fat Nuggets doing their very best to cheer you up. Angel showed how much he truly cared for you. You couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend than him. However you felt nothing he could do would make the dysphoria you felt go away. He’s an amazing boyfriend but unfortunately he can’t stop your period or give you a dick. (he could do the second one if you asked him nicely)

”Ok I think this is all the chocolate in the entire hotel, I refilled your water, and I got you some of those snacks you like.” Angel listed as he sat on the bed beside you, dumping the food in your lap before readjusting the pillows wedged between your head and the wall, wanting to make sure you were as comfortable as you could be.

”Ange, you didn’t have to do all that.” you mumbled despite knowing it was pointless and he would continue to insist on helping you. 

He pulled you closer to him, letting you rest your head against his shoulder, “I told you it’s fine. I want nothin’ more than for you to be happy.”

You lazily snuggled up to him. Dealing with your period and the gender dysphoria that tagged along with it tended to drain your energy, "Thanks. I really appreciate you helping me with this."

Angel's arm snaked around your waist, holding you close to him, "Of course baby. But of the list of things I'd do for you, this is pretty mild. If your period was a person I swear I'd fuck 'em up real bad. Make 'em regret ever makin' you feel this way."

You couldn’t tell if it was just your hormones going batshit or not, but Angel’s words had you burst into tears. You quickly buried your face in the crook of his neck as he pulled you into a tight but comfortable hug.

”You’re ok babe, I’ve got you, just let it out,” his whispers comforted you as his hand gently rubbed up and down your back soothingly, not even caring that your tears were staining his shirt. 

Shaky breaths left your lips as you cried, “I'm grateful you're helping me. But I hate this. I hate my body. I hate it so fucking much.” your voice cracked as more tears rushed down your face. Angel was quick to pull out of the hug and cup your face, his eyes on you as his thumb caressed your cheeks. “It’s not fair.”

Tears brimmed Angel’s eyes, his heart breaking at your words, “I know baby. And you're right, it’s not fair. And you don’t deserve to feel this way one bit.” he pressed his lips to your forehead, “You hear me?" you gave a small nod as his thumb wiped away your tears, "And you're not your body. You're the hottest, the funniest, the kindest, the strongest, and the most handsome - yeah you're the most handsome and hottest man I’ve ever met, who also happens to be the best boyfriend in the world. And I wanna do anythin' to help you with this pain."

A small smile grew on your lips as you listened to him. He was so genuine and sincere, a big contrast to his usual sarcastic and snarky demeanour. On a day you felt like dying only he could make you feel like living, "I love you. So much."

He smiled ear to ear, feeling his heart swell at your words, "I love you too baby." he handed you one of the snacks he had brought, "Do you wanna eat something? And then you can talk more about what's botherin' you, or we can watch movies, or we can just nap. Whatever you wanna do."

You nodded, taking a bite of the snack, "That sounds good." Angel shifted on the bed so he was beside you again, one arm around your shoulders, while the other wiped your remaining tears.

#fanfiction #froggywritesstuff #anon #ask #male reader #x reader #angel dust x male reader #hazbin angel dust #angel dust #angel dust x reader #trans reader #angel dust x trans reader #angel dust x trans ftm reader #ftm #trans #trans ftm #gay #mlm #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #x y/n #x you #fem readers dni

[writingforatwistedworld]

self aware au: basically the same request where the reader enters the game world and when he finds a certain character, hugs them and says how amazing he is, but this time, with Floyd, Ruggie and Jade. I feel like they deserve to be appreciated.

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, violence, manipulation, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, fighting

Ruggie Bucchi/Jade Leech/Floyd Leech-Player hugs them and tells them how amazing they are

*sobs* I'm so sorry but I don't know whether I should be happy or terrified

You see, Ruggie was always the one making sure that everyone back home was doing well

Please don't think that his family is ungrateful but after a while you just get used to the “Thank you”s and they become just monotone

So imagine someone outside of his circle, may I add the Overseer, is suddenly coming up to him and telling him that he is amazing

Did I mention the hug? Oh yeah, you also did that

He was just walking down the hallway, having to run an errand for the wannabe king of Savanaclaw, and then something just barrels into his side

It's a miracle he didn't hear you from miles away, those beastmen genetics can be quite useful, but let us say that he has been more than just busy on that day

Reggie was ready to defend himself only to notice that... someone was hugging him??!

The hyena was expecting everything but that.

Having to work for his boss had made him one or two enemies so it would have been no surprise if he was attacked

But no. Here you were in your entire glory, hugging one who was the lowest of the low like he was some sort of priceless treasure

And then you told him how amazing you think he is. Please hold on to him, I think he might fall over from shock

Now to the not so pretty part, becoming part of that circle

Now, I'm not saying that his family is made up of bad people but you have that special pedestal

And boy is that pedestal high.

Ever wondered why it has become so hard to talk with others? Well they all have gotten hurt

Only your dear admirer friend Ruggie is still by your side. Him alone. Just how it should be

So we are talking about the butler danger noodle

He is, how should I say this, always rather busy

Whether his day is filled with making sure that the noodle beside him, also known as his twin, is not beating people left and right up or doing what Azul ells him

Oh right! Almost forgot Mostro Louge, that too

But I think we all can agree that even though he doesn't show it he is pretty much overworked

So imagine how elated he must be when someone finally notices all his hard work

Here you were, hugging the hat stand tightly whilst telling him how amazing he is

You see him turning his head away? He is just getting a bit shy

I mean, no matter how suave you try to be there is always that tiny bit of you that wants recognition

And this is where the fluff ends

You see, that tiny bit of positive attention you gave him had felt so good and who is he to deny such a great feeling?

His shoulders were feeling so light, his neck not stiff and his thoughts clear again

Were you having this effect because you were the Overseer or was it simply because you cared?

But remember, he can be double as cruel as he can be kind

It started slow, students looking at you nervously which soon ended in empty hallways the second you entered them

How sad! Seems like they all were just acting like they liked you. But don't you worry. Jade will be with you now and always

So we are returning the squeezing now?

But jokes aside, you actually made the usual loud eel very silent for a moment

I don't think that Floyd would be just that loud, violent person but also someone who has a lot more going on in their head than they show

And also, he is probably pretty touch starved because of his rather unpleasant reputation

So here we have an eel who could use a hug and some affection, platonic or not, and who is to deny him that? (You probably should)

Imagine his surprise when he saw you waiting in front of Mostro Lounge

It was almost like a dream, the person he had always admired finally standing in front of him

He was in fact so enthralled that he didn't even notice how a smile formed on your face and you ran towards him

Only when your arms snaked around his torso did he finally notice that you were hugging him

And then you told him how amazing he was!

Jade was lowkey afraid of the calm expression he made the entire day after that

But why are there so many students in the infirmary since you met him?

Floyd has no positive reputation to loose and he knows that

So why hold back?

There are just so many annoyances in this school taking your affection which obviously belongs to him

So don't talk with that student whom you met yesterday. Your Floyd is here, right? So why are you looking for someone else??!

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst x reader #self aware au #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst ruggie #twst jade #twst floyd #yandere ruggie x reader #yandere ruggie #ruggie x reader #twisted wonderland ruggie #yandere jade x reader #yandere jade leech #yandere jade #jade x reader #twisted wonderland jade #yandere floyd x reader #yandere floyd leech #floyd x reader #yandere floyd #yadere jade #tw: yandere #tw: violence #tw: manipulation #tw: obsessive behavior #tw: possessive behavior #tw: fighting