#i hope i don’t come out as mean to u in my answer if i do this wasn’t my intention !!
Text
between a rock and a...hard place?
pairing: scaramouche x childe
summary: scaramouche gets stuck in a window, childe has an active imagination and inappropriately creative ways of getting him unstuck.
word count: 4.3k
warnings: top childe/bottom scara, smut, crack, stuck sex, barebacking, creampie, anal fingering, ass play in general, rimming, spit as lube, spanking, dirty talk, degradation, mean childe, rough sex, premature ejaculation, virgin scara
a/n: uploading all of my fics from ao3 onto tumblr is so tedious, but if u enjoyed pls leave a like. luv yewww.
"Hello?”
Childe sounds confused on the crackly opposite end of the phone call when he picks up, probably lost as to why Scaramouche of all people would be calling him, especially while he was in the middle of a shift of all times. Despite being roommates, the raven haired man had never onced phoned Childe, he’d rather have keeled over, if he’s honest. It wasn’t something they did , not for a lack of Childe’s trying, anyway.
Scaramouche did his best throughout their living together to ignore the overly friendly ginger's and his naturally affectionate nature, and he did well, for the most part. He, frankly, found the man’s cheerful persona insufferable; annoying.
But, with his waist lodged between the window sill and the window itself, effectively pinning him stuck despite his writhing in an attempt to free his body from the bent position, he figured he didn’t have much of a choice.
It was ridiculous, really, how he’d ended up in the position to begin with. One minute he’s dusting the window sill, rickety pane lodged open like usual to allow for fresh air, and the next, with a slip of his house shoes, he tumbles forward and effectively jolts the pane from its position; of course the shabby ass window had decided to jam itself in place at that moment, pinned against his lower back. He’s at least a little relieved the window wasn’t faced toward the front of the house, he could only handle so much embarrassment.
He curses his best friend Kazuha for leaving on that school trip right about now, huffs at the horrible timing, and Signora hadn’t answered the generous amount of calls he’d blew her phone up with. Whore. In short, he had no one else to call and was left with no choice but to dial the last person he’d wanted to see him in this position.
It was out of sheer desperation that he’d alerted Siri to dial the ginger’s phone, now he could only hope the fucker wouldn’t hold the ridiculousness of the situation over his head. He would, Scara just knew.
“Yeah, so-” Scaramouche winces when his rib grinds particularly roughly against the wood of the sill. “Is there any way you could…come home right now?”
Childe sounds breathless on the other end, there’s a loud thud that sounds from Scara’s phone, likely the sound of the ginger moving boxes in the warehouse he’d worked in.
“What for?”
Scaramouche curls his lip in annoyance. “Just- does that matter?”
A scoffed laugh sounds through the other end, “Well yeah. I can’t exactly just up and leave my job, Kuni.”
The raven sniffs, displeased at the nickname. “Don’t call me that- Look I know you can’t, but this is kinda-” He wiggles, “An emergency. ”
At that, Childe sounds much more worried when he speaks again. “Is everything okay? ”
Ah, that got him. “No, you fuckhead. I’m-” His eyes close in embarrassment. “I’m stuck.”
It’s quiet for a moment, like Childe is trying to figure out what he means. “Stuck how? ”
“Stuck like stuck you fucking moron. What else could that mean?”
Childe ignores his curses. “Like, on a roof or some shit? Look, Scara, I know you like cats and everything but even this is too far for yo-”
Scaramouche’s eyes roll and he sneers toward his phone, glares at the ginger’s contact picture. It’s a dopey smiling selfie of Tartaglia next to a very discontent Scaramouche, a picture the ginger uploaded to his contact on his own on the one off chance he’d been able to snatch up Scaramouche’s phone, and the brunette found himself hesitant to delete it, for some reason. Whatever. The picture grates the raven’s nerves about now.
“In a window, asshole. I’m stuck in a window.”
Childe splutters an incredulous laugh. “Well, shit. How did you manage that one? How did you even manage to call? ”
Damn, the man asks a lot of questions. He picked a bad time to be curious. “I was cleaning, something you’d know nothing about, and I fell, and Siri exists, y’know- can you just come home?” Scaramouche growls in response.
“If I didn’t know any better I’d say this was your attempt at roleplay, Scara.” Nice one, Childe. The fucker sounds as smug as he could be, and Scara hisses. Leave it to him to have sex on his mind on a Tuesday afternoon.
“Fuck off, you perv!” Childe simply laughs in response.
There’s more shuffling on the other end, and when Childe speaks once again, he sounds further away, like he’d placed his phone down somewhere. There’s a bead of sweat forming on Scaramouche’s temple, he exhales at the discomfort in his gut.
“Did you try opening it?”
Scaramouche was going to punch the fucker in the face.
He seethes. “No, Childe. I called you because I hadn’t thought of that one. Were you born this stupid or was that just a lifestyle choice?”
Childe huffs his laughter on the other end. “Yeah, take your anger out on me, princess. You’re still the one who got stuck in a window like a moron.”
The raven wriggles in rage, “You bit-“
“Okay, okay.” Childe interrupts, picking his phone up once again. “Let me go tell my boss, I’ll be there as quickly as I can. Try not to have too much fun, yeah?”
It does little to relieve the brunette, seeing as that wasn’t a very clear prediction of time, but he sighs out in annoyance anyway.
“Whatever. Just hurry the fuck up.”
The line disconnects, and Scaramouche groans in relief at the fact he was finally going to be freed from this predicament, then humiliation when he remembers just who was about to help him. He glances back at his ass through the clear glass, eyes widening at the teeny lounge shorts he was wearing, bent over he was most likely…uncomfortably exposed. Oh. He’d forgotten about that part.
“Motherfucker.”
The front door slams shut, jolting Scaramouche from his pity party and he wriggles underneath the window pane in relief, desperate to free his poor tummy from the torture of the sill being lodged against it.
Rapid footsteps shuffle along the floorboards, doors opening and closing distantly in search of the stuck man.
“Scara?” Childe calls out throughout the otherwise empty house.
“In the game room.” He shouts back.
There’s hurried footsteps approaching the room, then the door swings open and Scaramouche screws his eyes shut tightly when he remembers just how lewd this must look. Tiny shorts, bent over, ass facing the door.
And Childe must think so too, if his sudden, uncharacteristic silence was any indication.
Really, Scaramouche’s luck was abysmal.
“Don’t just stand there, asshole.”
When Scara cranes his neck to toss an irritated look behind him, he can faintly see Childe’s widened eyes, and he huffs in mortification when he finds the eyes are very much gawking at his overly exposed asscheeks, and he seems in no particular hurry to help the stuck man.
“Fuck, Kuni. You look straight out of a porno.” Childe starts, amused.
“I fucking know that, just get me out of here.”
Childe tentatively moves toward Scara’s stuck form, and Scara can practically feel Childe’s body heat scalding the backs of his bare thighs when he approaches.
“How do I-“ Childe begins, scratching the suddenly very flushed skin of his neck. Scara wriggles, Childe watches the movement with a sudden rapt attention. His brow quirks at the sight.
“Just, try to open the window?”
Childe clears his throat.
He reaches forward in an attempt to shove the aged wood upwards, and Scaramouche tries not to flush at the way Childe’s groin presses up against his rear absentmindedly. The fucker probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
A grunt leaves the ginger when the wood doesn’t budge at the force.
“Damn, it really is stuck.”
Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “They should give you a Nobel prize, Einstein.”
Childe laughs at that, but it comes out tensed he looks down, he realises with a sudden flush of heat just how close his…dick is to the raven’s ass. His brows furrow when he realises Scara hadn’t cursed him about it, like he usually would if the ginger drifted too close to his personal space. Huh.
“How about I try to pull you out?” He offers to distract himself from the very enticing sight before him.
Scara nods, inhales sharply when he feels the ginger’s gloved hands place themselves on his waist. He tries desperately to ignore how large they are in comparison to his own petite torso. The man’s fingertips practically fucking touched. He shakes the lewd tights from his mind when Childe speaks.
“Ready?” Childe prompts, and when Scara spits a yeah, whatever in response, Childe yanks the smaller man backwards with a shocking amount of force.
“Ow, fuck-!” Scara yelps when he doesn’t budge, when his torso knocks uncomfortably against the small opening of the window.
“Shit, I’m sorry-“ Childe soothes, panicked, palming the fleshiness of Scaramouche’s love handles absentmindedly in his apology. But Scara can’t seem to shake the contact, gentle yet firm.
“Bastard, that hurt.” He wants out. Wants out bad. But with the diligent massaging of his flesh, he finds himself... Oh. He flushes in mortification.
“I know, Kuni. Um…how about we-” Childe wracks his brain for an idea.
It’s quickly lost when he looks down again and finds that…the younger man is shuffling uncomfortably on his feet.
“Are you…” Childe mutters when one of the smaller man's thighs presses against the other, and Scaramouche whines in embarrassment.
“No! Just- shut up.”
But Childe isn’t listening, that part of his brain suddenly entirely flooding with horniness at a magnitude so great it makes his head spin. He can feel his dick swell in his pants when he sees the milkiness of Scaramouche’s thighs rubbing together in unmistakable arousal. The raven was getting off on this.
And suddenly all the seemingly hopeless advances Childe has made toward Scaramouche in the past flutter into his memory.
“You like this.”
Scaramouche’s head hangs low between his shoulder blades in shame, but why does it make him so… tingly? He really needed help if Childe was turning him on. What the fuck?
“No I don’t! I just…get me out.” He begs, weakly, no real bite to his words. Not like usual.
Childe’s palms once again find themselves on Scaramouche’s body, but this time, they’re palming the fleshiness of Scaramouche’s pert ass. Completely unabashed and confident in the way they massage the muscle.
The latter squeaks, jolting away from the contact in shock.
“Childe, you sick freak-“
The ginger raises a palm and gently lands a smack against the raven's left cheek. It jiggles delightfully.
The sound Scaramouche lets out is sinful. They both freeze at the moan, Childe entirely giddy at the newfound revelation and Scaramouche perfectively humiliated that he’d let himself get turned on by a fucking overgrown ginger twink.
“You do like it.” Childe hums, like he was testing a hypothesis that was just proven true. Like a cat that caught the canary, he was far too pleased for Scaramouche’s liking.
Scaramouche sinks his teeth into his lower lip.
“Shut up.”
“Gonna be honest here, Kuni,”
Scaramouche doesn’t have the fight in him to curse the usage of the god awful nickname. Instead, his breath hitches when the ginger grinds his clothed hips into Scaramouche’s equally clothed ass. There’s an unmistakable hardness that prods against him. His mouth runs dry. At least he could note the man wasn’t small…
“This is fulfilling like every fantasy I’ve ever had about you.”
Scaramouche flushes. He’s breathless when he responds.
“You would have fantasies about your roommate you fucking porn addict.”
Childe huffs, amused, with a confident roll of his hips.
“You haven’t thought about me before, Kuni?”
And, to be honest, he had . In the very back, secluded corners of Scaramouche’s mind, he could admit it. Childe was hot, for a lanky ginger who talked far more than was necessary, anyway. And if he’d thought about it, on any off chance he could get at the thought of the himbo ploughing into him with his big, stupid cock, it wasn’t anyone’s business but his and his right hand’s.
But he groans when the roughness of Childe’s hips grind against his clothed entrance.
“Fuck-“
Childe sucks his teeth. “Tell me.”
Scaramouche exhales, practically panting at the way his dick pushes against the tightened material of his shorts.
“Yeah. I have, what about it?” He bites.
Childe sounds delighted, yet unsurprised when he pulls back, swiping his gloved palms up the delicate skin of Scaramouche’s inner thighs. Dangerously close to the hardness.
“Yeah? What do you think about?”
He sounds like he could bust at any moment, like some horny teenager feeling someone up for the first time, it very nearly makes Scaramouche laugh. If only he wasn’t in the same boat.
Scaramouche juts his ass backwards, as best as he can from his fixed position that is, to grind against the taller man’s hardness in retaliation. When he hears Childe’s breath hitch, his brows furrow in just as much arousal.
“Think about-“ He licks his lips. Fine.
Childe massages, prods, squeezes, grinds. Encouraging Scaramouche to continue and give in.
“You, inside me. You’re so big it’d probably hit so deep.” He lets himself be honest, and Childe purrs in appreciation.
Hands leave their position of massaging his nether cheeks to toy with the hem of his lounge shorts, a quiet permission. It’s sweet. Scaramouche spreads his legs in his consent.
“Think about me fucking you, huh?”
Scaramouche groans when Childe yanks the lilac fabric of his shorts down, and his very bare ass is suddenly on display for the ginger to gaze freely. And apparently he doesn’t disappoint.
“God, this ass is fucking crazy.”
Scaramouche jolts when Childe thwacks the flesh once more, this time with much more intent than before. He wiggles.
“Then what do you think about?” He mutters to Childe, curious.
Childe hums, the hands leave for a moment as he undoes his gloves with the sharp sound of velcro, tossing the fabric somewhere forgotten, and Scaramouche keens inwardly at the warm flesh against him when the hands return their harsh kneading.
“Think about you all spread out for me, writhing,” Scaramouche pants when Childe’s thumb very nearly swipes against his rim.
“Think about eating you out ‘till you’re all shakey, fucking you open on my cock so good you can’t even think about being a brat. ”
His hand stings ever more intensely now that his gloves are removed, and Scaramouche hisses at the contact, he feels his flesh blossom and tingle.
“Fucking perv.” Scaramouche whines. “Do something already.”
And Childe wastes no time then, dropping to his knees behind Scara’s bent figure and ogling the pink pucker nestled between the raven’s cheeks. It wasn’t what Scaramouche was expecting, but he can’t say he hates it.
“Want my mouth?”
Scaramouche growls at that, “Obviously.”
But when Childe doesn’t immediately give him what he wants, he lets out a frustrated whine. Why’d Childe have to pick now off all times to be his usual insufferable self?
“Can you ask me nicely?”
“Go fuck yourself.” Scaramouche huffs out a laugh. Yeah right.
A tsk leaves the ginger, who removes his hands entirely.
“Why would I do that when I have a perfectly good bitch right here?”
Scaramouche’s nails scratch against the wooden sill, patience thinning. He didn’t appreciate that one, and Childe could tell.
“Fuck off.”
Childe’s amused quirk of his lips widens, he decides to prod that bruise.
“Ask me nicely to eat you out or I’ll fucking leave you here.”
It’s hardly an empty threat, Childe could be a sadistic ass when he wanted to be, Scaramouche swallows.
“You wouldn’t.” His voice wavers.
When Childe cocks his head, entirely ready to rise to his feet and abandon the raven altogether, Scaramouche wriggles in desperation. Good dammit, fine.
“Fuck okay, please.”
God, he was pathetic. All worked up over having his ass on display, over a few touches.
“Better than that.”
A whine. “Please, I want your mouth, want you so bad, plea-“
Childe, thankfully relents, planting his palm on each cheek and spreading the flesh to present Scaramouche’s hole for his eager mouth. Then he licks a fat stripe up the fluttering entrance without so much as a god damn warning.
Scaramouche turns to fucking jelly at the silkiness of the tongue.
“Unh-!”
He feels disgusting, it feels obscene and he can't help the way his hips jolt back at the sensation of the warm tongue swiping itself across his entrance. It’s entirely foreign, he’s never had anyone do this to him before, never wanted anyone as bad as this. It’s a confusing pleasure.
“What the fu-“
His brows furrow when the tongue wiggles against him.
Childe hums, and Scaramouche’s eyes cross at the vibration that tingles against his nether region. It makes his balls tighten.
Lips leave him with a wet pop, and a thumb prods against the pucker.
“You moan like a whore.” And then Childe presses the digit forward to breach Scaramouche’s walls without prep, and the latter mewls out in shock.
“Fucking- easy Childe!”
But Childe doesn’t listen, he’s good at that it seems, and he prods around to loosen the brunette’s tightened muscles.
“You’re so tight, Kuni,” He observes, breath hot against the backs of Scaramouche’s thighs.
“No one ever fuck you here before?”
Scaramouche sighs out at the intense feeling, he’s hardly able to adjust before Childe is nudging in another finger alongside the first, like he can’t wait to break Scaramouche open for the first time.
“No, but I- fu- ah! I’ve done it…myself before.” He admits, mind fuzzy with the pleasure.
Childe is so divinely skilled with his fingers, they’re long compared to Scaramouche’s own and they wildly out perform them, too.
“You fuck yourself on your fingers and you’re still this tight?” Childe quips, fascinated. “Your fingers just don’t feel like this, do they? They’re too short to give you what you really need.”
Scaramouche pants. “And what? you think I n- need you?”
The ginger doesn’t answer, it floods Scaramouche’s tummy with nerves.
Scaramouche pants when Childe leans forward to spit on the scissoring digits, then his mouth descends lower, and his tongue swipes against Scaramouche’s sack. It’s embarrassing, how Scaramouche tightens around Childe’s fingers, and he rises to his tiptoes in an attempt to ease some of the agonizing pressure. But Childe doesn’t let him, simply follows the writhing of his hips.
“Jesus- Childe, too much too much-”
The fingers speed up at that, because of course they do, and Scaramouche’s calf trembles in overstimulation.
“Childe, shit-” Tears prick at his eyes.
The ginger lets out a growl of satisfaction at the way Scaramouche’s body seizes, like he’s already familiar with it, familiar with the way his toes curl and his spine arches. Perhaps Scaramouche was easier to break than he’d thought.
The slurping of Childe’s mouth against Scaramouche’s perineum is lewd, obscene, and Scaramouche is close. Really close. It seems Childe already knows this, because just as Scaramouche begins to feel himself about to spurt against Childe’s fingers, they leave him entirely.
Scaramouche sobs when his balls clench tight, his orgasm ripped from him instantaneously.
“You fucking jackass, why did you-?”
Childe growls, rising to his feet in a blur, yanking his belt free from the loops with trembling, spit slicked fingers. He looks feral, the horniness flushing his freckled cheeks and blowing his pupils beyond his diamond irises. The hardness beneath his work jeans is painful, and he makes quick work of freeing his length from the confines.
“Shut up.”
While Scara can’t exactly see Childe’s length, he sure can feel it when Childe nestles it against his crack. It’s heavy, and he can hear when Childe puckers his lips to spit on the shaft as some sort of makeshift lube, then he’s pulling his hips back to sink the tip beyond Scaramouche’s loosened rim.
It very nearly punches the air from the brunette’s lungs, who can’t seem to stop squirming as the inches sink into what feels like his fucking guts . Childe must notice it too, because his palms press against Scaramouche’s lower back to pin him the fuck still.
“Take it,” Childe drawls, his voice sounds gravelly and beyond gone, and Scaramouche’s eyes widen at the drastic shift in persona. This was not the Childe he knew, the polite and well mannered man was now some… beast about to pound Scaramouche nine ways to Sunday.
“Childe- how fucking big are you?” Scaramouche heaves, hole greedily swallowing inch by agonizing inch. He’s astounded he could fit the fucker inside him without lube , but even with the arousal making him delirious and loosening his body, he can feel the stinging stretch of Childe’s dick splitting him open. And he hasn’t even bottomed out yet, Scaramouche doesn’t know how much more he can take. Perhaps he overestimated himself, or underestimated Childe .
“H-half.” Childe pants, faltering when he feels resistance. His mind swims when he looks down to peer at where their bodies are connected.
Scaramouche gasps wetly, “You're only half way in?!” He begins to thrash against Childe’s palms. “I can’t take that- holy sh-”
A rumbling sounds deep from within Childe’s chest, protesting at what sounds like Scaramouche’s hesitance. He needed to be buried in him, now. He couldn’t handle being denied this far along. Not when Scara was so tight wrapped around him.
“You can take you, you can,” He insists.
“Childe, I can’t-“
Scaramouche has no time to prepare himself as Childe’s hips surge forward to sheath himself beyond the slick walls, and Scaramouche’s muscles go rigid with a wail when he feels himself become impaled .
“Ungh-!”
His vision goes white with agony, he can barely even fully cry properly from how full he suddenly becomes, every twitch and jostle has the ridiculous length prodding painfully against every part of his insides. If he thought before was bad, this is torture on an entirely unprecedented level.
And then he’s cumming, legs trembling so intensely Childe has to hold him up with a shocked, pained cry when the muscles clamp down on his length. He’d hardly expected the brunette to break so soon, and it has some sick, animalistic part of his brain going haywire.
Scaramouche can hardly feel anything other than pure, unadulterated pleasured agony as it rolls through his body, it hurts so bad but he fucking loves it, mouth dropping open in a silent scream when Childe rolls his hips to fuck him through it. Semen spurts from his cock, splattering onto the floor beside their feet with disgusting plap’s.
Childe whines, pressing a palm against Scaramouche’s lower back to pummel his hips against the shorter man’s ass. Like a fucking dog in heat, he pays no mind to the way Scaramouche is sobbing in pained bliss, all he can hear is the pathetic ah ah ah’s leaving his mouth with every thrust.
“S’ fucking good ah-!” Scaramouche slurs, fucked out of his mind and so beyond delirious all he can do is take take take. The length fucks into him like it has one mission, some carnal intent to breed his imaginary womb, and then he begins to beg for it.
Childe yanks him back onto his cock by his hips, spearing Scaramouche onto his length and it gives the latter no room to adjust to the pressure.
“Please-“ He pants, feeling the oozing droplets of remaining semen dripping from the weeping tip of his softening cock against his thighs. He begs to be filled, begs for the man to flood him full.
“Fill me, please, please, Ajax-“
Childe exhales sharply at that, like the usage of the nickname he’d practically begged Scaramouche to use, to which he’d always been rejected, snapped him from whatever salacious frenzy he’d fallen into, and then he shoves forward to bury himself as far as he can beyond Scaramouche’s walls. His balls clench, once, then twice, and then he’s releasing his load deep into Scaramouche’s hole.
“Fuck-!” He growls, fingertips sinking painfully into Scaramouche’s asscheeks, pulling them apart to watch the way the hole struggles to accommodate for his length.
“Yes, yes-“ Scaramouche babbles, and with one final thrust of Childe’s hips,
the window unlatches itself from its stuck position with a sickening crack.
Childe’s head darts up in surprise at the unmistakable sound of breaking wood, and Scaramouche freezes against him. But neither of them move to stop the shallow thrusts of Childe’s hips for a long moment, ensuring Scaramouche milks him for everything he’s got.
A winded pant leaves Scaramouche when Childe’s hips halt and he blinks the white spots from his vision.
“Did…did it just-”
Childe eases himself from Scaramouche hesitantly after the throbbing of his balls has ceased, Scara winces at the rawness of his asshole. He was going to kill the fucking ginger. When he could walk again.
Scaramouche looks over his shoulder to meet Childe’s widened eyes, who appears far more normal and satiated now that he’d absolutely demolished Scaramouche ass.
Then, Childe leans forward in an attempt to raise the window. And…
It marvellously raises without an issue.
Childe scoffs incredulously, shrugging at Scaramouche’s narrowed expression.
“You’re disgusting. My ass hurts, you fucking pervert.” Scaramouche accuses, back to his usual, bratty self.
The ginger balks, tucking himself back into his jeans and leaning down to tug Scaramouche’s lounge shorts back up his shaky legs.
“Hey, you wanted it just as much as I did!”
Scaramouche winces when he raises back up to a normal standing position, rubbing a palm over his sore, raw tummy, and his palm stills when he finds his lower stomach is bloated from the sheer amount of semen inside him.
Apparently Childe has noticed this as well, for he wears an aggravatingly smug smile that grates Scaramouche’s nerves, and he cocks his head in that insufferable way he knows best. He wiggles his brows.
“Think I got you pregnant?”
Scaramouche hisses when the ginger speaks, raising his palm to smack him upside the head with a shocked ‘sicko!’
#genshin fanfic#scaramouche x tartaglia#scaramouche x childe#childe tartaglia ajax#genshin smut#wanderer#genshin#wanderer x tartaglia#wanderer x childe#childe genshin impact
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my one thing is that we dont know if when Q talked about "leaks" he was refering only to twitter
many of us are all assuming that's what he ment, but also, when he said so he's specifically mentioned "the people who affected the project kept finding out about it and used that to their advantage to smudge stuff away" (im hispanic, btw, this is gotten via a translation or anything, this is what i heard)
so my biggest guess (PERSONAL OPINION, im probably making shit up, wtf knows) is that he knows whoever these people are (seems to be multiple persons), but he doesnt know who is the person or persons who kept giving them information about what, and making the process of him being able to completely cut out whoever these individuals were more difficult; and just to make sure that they were not getting information of his actions via anyone, he just didnt give any information at all
it sucks, cause if that was the case i can see se reasoning, but i can also see how fucking terrible that would be for any innocent party (admins) involved
I feel like he should spend less time worrying about these « leaks » and « people affecting the project » and more about the people his company wronged and how his and his teams actions are impacting on the project.
Once again everything is so vague and communication sucks : what leaks ? you mean Lea and others updating each other and the community on whats going on ? Or some like malicious person trying to sabotage ? And when he talks about people who wants the downfall of project does he mean people legitimately complaining or some secret hater working behind the scenes ?
Lots of words not to say much tbh. We still don’t know anything, admins still haven’t been contacted. On top of that the stream felt more like damage control than anything else to me. I’m not saying he had bad intentions but talking so much about haters trying to put down the project, about how there are people who don’t belong in this community just fuels the fans will to just trust him and not question anything bc criticism is just from malevolent haters. All this while not having a thank you, sorry, or any words really for the admins doesn’t sit right w me
« people affecting the project » bro that’s YOU
#discourse#neg#sorry i took so long to answer u anon i skipped the notification i think rip#i hope i don’t come out as mean to u in my answer if i do this wasn’t my intention !!#just trying to air my thoughts on this specific topic#also once again this is my PERSONAL opinion#it’s criticism to Q not hate#i hope at least this is made clear
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hi omg I loved all ur “u sleep with plushies” for each svt unit, may I req a hhu ver ??? all of the other units were so cute😭💗
you still sleep with plushies ♡
author's note. thank you hehe!!! it was so fun to do, sorry it took so long tho:(
vcu ver && perf ver
┆彡 SEUNGCHEOL [ 승철 ]
he never considered it a problem?
like he’s been at your place a couple of times and noticed the plushies, thinking it’s just really cute :(
i mean come on, some of his members heave weirder habits (like sleeping with their eyes open…)
so when you asked him if that bothers him, seungcheol was offended that you even thought!!! about it!!!
however . . .
when he does sleep at your place, you two all cuddled up and comfy
and then… he wakes up only to see your back
okay, it happens… maybe you were uncomfortable
BUT THEN HE SEES YOU’RE CLUTCHING A TEDDY TO YOUR CHEST!!! INSTEAD OF HIM!!
he’s so sulky, good luck with that …..
you explain that it’s just your comfort plushie and that you cuddled it out of habit :(
so cheol insists that he can be way better than it and begs you to let him stay one more night to prove his point ☝️
and he kinda does, he becomes your new giant, warm and loving teddy bear <3
┆彡 WONWOO [ 원우 ]
wonwoo noticed before you could tell him
well, you really thought you were slick when you didn’t bother hiding them because you hoped he’d think they’re there for the aesthetics
or when you two went shopping and your eyes widened upon seeing a cute plushie:(
yeah, he knows
but he thinks it’s really cute, especially if you have that one specific plushie ever since you could remember and you always sleep with it
so not to make a fool out of yourself in front of his friends, you don’t take it with you when you go on a trip with them
after whole day of fun, it’s time to sleep in the cabin
and wonwoo notices that you’re constantly squirming around, unable to fall sleep
and you confess that it’s because you didn’t bring your plushie:(
so he offers to be the plushie for the night, reassuring you that he doesn’t mind and you can cuddle him as much you wanna
and that may have been a risky decision because ever since…… well, he is one of your plushies now ^__^
┆彡 MINGYU [ 민규 ]
you decided to invite your boyfriend over and share a secret with him
mentally, you got ready to get teased about it
but you when mingyu entered your bedroom he didn’t even notice the plushies 🧍♀️
he was just happy that u let him in your personal space and looked around your room with hearts in his eyes, like a kid in a candy store
"so you don’t mind the plushies?" you mumbled, plopping down on your bed and holding one for emotional support
"the pl– oh? ah, baby…" he groaned and swore his knees got weak; you’re just too cute for his own good
he doesn’t mind, at all - which you’re kinda surprised but happy
he does get pouty if you cuddle a plushie to sleep instead of him >:T
sometimes will spray his cologne on your (or his) favorite one so you could feel like he’s here when he’s out having schedules ☹️
might steal a one or two to his apartment, esp puppy ones 💔
┆彡 VERNON [ 버논 ]
i mean we all know nonnie, he’s really chill about everything (welp, except bugs but—)
so when you were facetiming him once and you noticed your plushies are on camera, you started panicking
"yo, what is it? did something happen?" he asked, noticing something’s wrong
"yeah… no… well…" you stuttered, not sure how to answer "did you see that?"
"what? that big spider behind you?" he stuttered and soon after laughed upon seeing your scared face "sorry, it was a bad joke… hey, don’t get sulky…"
"i meant my plushies…" you mumbled and pulled one closer
"oh them? yeah, and? you always have them. say hi to gerard by the way" vernon nodded
what.
there’s no gerard in your collection but later on you realised he meant (plushie name)
like really,, he doesn’t care in a way that – he doesn’t mind you having them
he does care about them, though :(
will put a blanket on them if he thinks they’ll get cold or carefully reads all the corners of the internet before putting them into a washing machine:(
masterlist <3
taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,, @eternalgyuuu ,, @rubywonu ,, @haecien ,, @mine-gyu ,, @nonononranghaee
#svt scenarios#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#seungcheol x reader#scoups x reader#wonwoo x reader#mingyu x reader#vernon x reader#hansol x reader#seventeen fluff#svt hhu#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#svt x gn reader#hhu x reader#svt fluff#svt imagines#svt soft hours#vernon imagines#wonwoo imagines#mingyu imagines#seungcheol imagines#svt drabbles#svt headcanons
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old habits (die hard) ❀ cl16
in which charles charles has a knack for fucking things up, and you have a talent for slowly letting him back in
find part one here.
contains: social media au, ex!charles leclerc x fem!reader, angsty charles and yn living her best life, toxic relationships maybe, mentions of new partners, charles is a confusing man, charles is a jealous asshole
note: i don’t think this is the final part lmao it’s kinda left of a cliff (if u saw me repost no u didn’t)
your phone 📞
charlie
hey
i miss you
a lot
read, 11:23 pm.
charlie
please don’t be like that y/n
i’m serious
you
charles you literally have a girlfriend
charlie
she’s not my girlfriend
you
do you think i’m stupid? like actually
charlie
no
but she really isn’t, we’re just talking
and hanging out i guess
you
oh my god
charlie
love, you know i miss you
you
yes, because finding another girl right after saying you only want to focus on racing sends me such a great message
you’re confusing as hell
charlie
i know, i really messed up.
i shouldn’t have broken up with you in the first place
but the season was getting so intense and i really want this championship, i thought it would be better for us to put it on pause to save us both the trouble
you
so what’s so different about her that makes her an exception?
charles
alex is easy for me
you
so i’m difficult?
charles
that’s not what i mean
you
no it is what you mean
i’m difficult for showing up to your races and being there when you need me
or when i’m there for you when you dnf? or when ferrari fucks up your strategy?
i was willing to stay friends with you after i did all that and you still broke up with me because i had hopes we would make it work and get back together
charlie
i do want to get back together
you
no you don’t
you moved on so quickly like i was nothing
charlie
you also got with someone too
you
because i didn’t want to look like an idiot seeing all the news after telling my friends i had hope
charlie
yeah but posting him in your bed??
you
so you’re just saying all of this because of that guy i posted?
wtf is your deal charles
fuck you
❀ instagram ❀
liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, alexalbon, and 70,331others
yourinstagram larger than life (in madrid)
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lilymhe oh my god
lilymhe you scandalous girl
yourinstagram oops?
landonorris he better watch his hands
yourinstagram he said “fuck off”
landonorris i’ll punch him in his face
carlossainz55 mariposa 🦋
yourinstagram 🥺
user are these two dating???
4zaferrari no they’re just friends, this is someone else
kikagomes sexy sexy pair 💋
yourinstagram you’re sexier bebe
pierregasly get away from my girlfriend
yourinstagram get off my page maybe?
alexalbon show me the man
yourinstagram no you’ll just steal him
user loved watching your vlog the other day
liked by yourinstagram
user seeing yn happy is so great but i can’t be the only one missing her and charles right??
user where are you going next omg!!
yourinstagram no idea!!
lando.jpg updated their story 1 hour ago
seen by yourinstagram, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 1 million others
yourinstagram replied to this story: i did not give permission for you to post this young man!
❀ twitter ❀
your phone 📞
charlie
you put him in your vlog? and you’re still posting him?
are you dating
y/n
are we seriously doing this right now
why are you stalking me
charlie
i’m not stalking you, i just care
fuck just answer the question please
y/n
i’m barely posting him, his face wasn’t in it
and no, we’re just seeing each other right now. yk summer flings i guess
charlie
you know it hurts me to see this y/n, please love
y/n
i don’t care, we’re not together anymore
you texting me is hurting everyone, your “friend” included
charlie
she knows we’re not dating
please just come back to monaco y/n
we can talk face to face
can i call you right now?
you
i’m with carlos and lando
charlie
are you also with that guy
you
yeah
charlie
will you finally tell me who he is?
you
does it really matter?
let’s just talk when i’m back in monaco please
and let me enjoy my vacation in peace
charlie
when are you back?
you
i’ll let you know
charlie
okay
i love you
you
yeah
love you too
❀ instagram ❀
yourinstagram updated their story 10 mins ago
❀ twitter ❀
tags: @1655clean @i-wish-this-was-me @sunny44 @leclercdream
#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 smau#f1 x female reader#f1 x you#cl16 x reader#cl16 imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc social media au#f1 x black!reader
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I loveeeedd the last story Tysm ❤️❤️❤️ Keep up the amazing work 🌈
I have another request
Hobie x fem spider reader
Reader has a weird stalker ex-bf, and the reader tries to keep it a secret from Hobie but he finds out and deals with the ex.
: ̗̀➛ STALKER.
hobie brown x fem!reader
any criminal minds fans out there … i hope u see the parallels of my baby spencer
also i'm so sorry, i didn't see until after i wrote this entire thing that you said 'fem spider reader' so it's a fem normal reader, so sorry! i hope it's still okay, tho!! thank u sm for ur support angel !!
summary: hobie & y/n have been doing long distance for months, but she never told him exactly why.
words: 2.8k (the words just kept coming, sorry its so long lmao)
warnings: fem!reader, pronouns not really used but "my girl", "lady", etc. are, read at your own risk! weird stalker bf, creepy fella, hobie n y/n are long distance, very very soft hobie
“when can i call you next, darlin’?” hobie’s voice was laced with longing, bass distorted by static at the other end of the phone.
“if you’re quick, we can call tomorrow after 5,” you smiled, and if you were in an 80’s romcom, you’d be twisting the phone cord between your fingers.
“5pm it is, don’t be late,” you can hear his smirk, and a bolt of guilt strikes your chest.
“look, i need to ask something, and i think i already know the answer,” hobie speaks, and you bite your lip in anticipation, “the band and i are playing at a new venue tomorrow, it’s the biggest we’ve played, we’re all dead excited, and…”
a sigh.
“well, it won’t feel the same without you there, pretty.”
if the first bolt wasn’t enough, then the second one lived up to it, striking you into the dead center of your heart. it had been well over 6 months since you met hobie. well, “met”. you’d accidentally called the wrong number one day, meaning to contact a friend of a friend, but typing the last number wrong. picking up at the other end was a deep, almost mesmerising voice, telling you; “no bother, darlin’. it happens, just make sure not to lose this number, wanna hear more from ya.”
“hobie, you know i can’t,” your voice is brimming with remorse and you look to the ground.
“i know, shit with your parents, i get it," he tried hard to hide the disappointment, but his heart twanged with neglect and it creeped through into his words.
parents. strict, all-demanding 'parents'. that's what you told hobie when you first started dating, that the reason you aren't able to see him was because your mother was overbearing and extremely protective – it was a lie. a lie that was eating you up from the inside out. the truth was slightly more grim, however.
years ago, you got involved with a guy at work. a couple brief conversations turned into dates, and dates turned into anniversaries, anniversaries turned into toxic, violent arguments and after a long time of dating, you broke up with him. to say he took it badly, was a criminal understatement. threatening phone calls, showing up at your work, sending you gifts and menacing letters – his signature move was scaring off, and even once harming, any man or potential love interest that you interacted with. it was exhausting, and terrifying.
and hobie was different. he was sweet and kind, but rough around the edges, and his voice dripped in passion no matter the topic of conversation. his promises were never empty, and most importantly – he loved you. and you loved him. the last thing you wanted, was your ex to pop up and scare him off, so you kept it from him. limiting your relationship to phone calls at arranged times incase your ex was keeping tabs.
“i’m sorry, hobie,” is all you could muster, not even scratching the tip of the catastrophic iceberg that wedged the back of your throat.
“it’s okay, darlin’, don’t worry that pretty little head over it,” and just like every phone call, you melted into his words, “i love you, yeah? i’ll call you tomorrow at 5.”
“i’ll be waiting,” you smiled, cheeks flushed at his gentle affirmations, “i love you.”
with a ruckus of movement, and what sounded like a kiss, the call ended, and you stared at the screen silently for a moment. not much longer could you avoid it, and the malten bubble of dread spilled into your gut.
sending him a quick text:
‘good luck tomorrow, handsome. what’s the venue called again? you’ll do amazing x’
you turned off your phone, discarding it on the bed as you climbed into the hole of guilt you’d dug yourself.
“oi, you ready, blud?” hobie’s band mate yelled above the bustle and cheers from the crowd before them. large, bejewelled hands poised onto his guitar strings, he smirked.
“always.”
with a nod to the roadie, the lights went up, illuminating the stage and instruments, hobie's glowing with a harsh red tint. immediately, his sepia eyes digested the crowd. seeing the flushed, excitable faces staring back at him sent a shot of confidence to his bones, and they moved, strumming the guitar with such vigor that the stage floor shook beneath his feet. cheers erupted, and yet felt oddly empty. it was missing something, and he knew what it was immediately.
he'd truly give his all to have you there, front stage in his eyeline, screaming his songs like gospel. not that he'd ever seen you properly, only seeing teasing selfies you'd sent him over the months you'd been together. he didn't care, inherently, he'd fallen head over heels for your personality; a pretty face was only just a bonus.
however, he did yearn for your touch. to feel his hands in your hair, to kiss your cheek, your nose, your neck. he longed to have you with him, even just doing stupid little tasks, having you by his side through the domestic side of life.
his gall spurred him on, his passion surging through his fingertips, spilling out into the sound waves. the audience were lapping it up, screams and chants only barely audible under the booming power of their set. song, after song, after song his talented blood seeped out onto the strings, and his feet were almost numb from the vibration of the bass.
the final song arrived, and his chest was burning, vision blurry, heart pounding against his chest – and he loved it. it was their biggest crowd, their most excitable achievement so far, and his blood pumped with adrenaline as he finished off the set, falling to his knees as he strum his guitar with one final chord. lights falling, his chest was heaving and his eyes scanned the audience one final time – you weren’t there. he had to accept that.
“that was fuckin’ sick, blud!” his bassist yelled as they exited the stage, palm slapping hobie’s shoulder blade and elicited a wide, ecstatic grin.
“you smashed it, mate,” hobie shouted back over the booming stereo that took their place.
“nah, man, you stole the show,” his bassist shook his head, patting him again in appreciation, “good that your lady’s here to see it, too, she must be proud.”
“i wish, mate,” he sighed.
“did you not see her?” his ears perked up, and at his confused expression, his bandmate continued, “over at the back, by the bar, i didn’t know what she looked like, but she was asking after you. ‘er story adds up.”
"shit," he mutters, feet solid on the ground. his heart pounds, skeptical of your presence, but chest bursting with hope that it just might be you, "look, bro, i need to–"
"go! go, man, go see her," his bandmate pushes him in the direction of the bar, and he almost stumbles over his own feet to push the stage door open, met with the chaos of the crowded bar.
dark eyes scanning the aimless faces, he searched for anyone who could look like you; his stature brought him above everyone else, only by a little, but gave him an advantage to seek you out.
"sorry, i need to get past," he repeated, over and over to unassuming bodies, setting through the chaos to find his peace. pushing out at the back, a wave of light met him, shining through empty pint glasses and illuminating the bar.
there you were.
standing quietly, head nodding along to the blasting instrumentals, drink in hand; you were heart-stopping. and he was pretty sure his did. even if he’d never seen you face-to-face, he’d memorised the soft plump of your lips, alluring light in your eyes, even the way your hair fell against your skin from the photos he'd seen. there was no doubt it was you, and my god, you were beautiful. he couldn’t even stop his legs if he tried, as they carried him over to you.
"y/n?" his voice barely travelled through the sound waves, but it hit your ear like a familiar embrace.
turning to him, eyes wide and bright in the twinkling of the bar lights. you drunk him in, warm eyes swallowing every part of him. you'd seen pictures, again, but it could never compare to him. dark brown skin, soft to its complexion, hugged his bones in every perfect way; folding at the creases of his handsome face. he was tall, very tall, and the detail of the curves and indents of his muscles, altered by the shadows of the dim bar light, made your head fuzzy. god, he was beautiful – nothing that a digital screen could ever portray with justice.
"hobie," your voice was crisper than he was used to, and he would bottle it if he could, "hey, handsome, you got a–"
"come 'ere," he interrupted, essentially scooping you into his tense embrace, melting into your scent, the feel of you in his arms. his heart was pounding against his chest. you wrapped yourself around him, running your hands along his leather jacket, ghosting the skin below it.
"you interrupted my introduction," you pouted against his shoulder, "had a whole little joke planned and everything, you know."
"go on, hit me, love," he pulled back a tiny bit, his arms still glued around your waist, looking down through his lashes. you faltered under his intense gaze, giddy smile bursting onto your face and you buried your head in his chest.
"nuh uh, not anymore," you shook your head against him, "you ruined it."
his hand came up to touch your face whilst you spoke, following the edge of your hairline and tucking your hair around your shoulder. he was in awe, having you here, having you with him. tightening his embrace, he didn't want to let you go – ever.
"mhmm," his voice vibrated his chest, and you pulled away, "i'm sure it was hilarious, love."
"it really was," you chuckled, giddy in his presence.
the air grew thicker, your laughter dying out and left with just his strong gaze, his dark brown eyes following yours. you could barely comprehend him being here, in front of you, around you, and he was so much more than you had imagined. feeling his calloused hand caress your cheek, you leaned into his touch, inviting him into your world. cupping your face, hobie bought himself to you, leaning down until his pierced lips were ghosting your own. months he'd dreamed of this, imagined how it would feel to kiss his girl, to taste your lips and feel your love. he could feel your breath, and you were about to give in, until you pulled away.
"wait, i–" you swallowed thickly, pulling your touch from him.
"what's up, darlin'?" his eyes scanned your face for any sign of reason, "did i do somethin'?"
"no! no, you," you sighed, "you're perfect, it's not you."
he'd be lying through his teeth if he denied the pit of anxiety building deep in his stomach, bubbling up his throat.
"what is it?"
"i–" you stuttered again, and fought to get your words out of your brain and into the thick air of the bar, "i haven't been telling you the truth."
silence. just for a second. hobie's brain working over time.
"look, if you've got another fella, or somethin', just get it over with–"
"no! no, hobie, i'm yours, i promise," your words settled him for a second.
"my parents don't care about us, they aren't strict, in fact, they were happy when i told them about you," you begun, opening the dam.
"they know about me?" his voice was smaller than you were used to, and if your brain had a spare synapse to process it, you'd probably have melted.
"yes, and i'm sorry i haven't told you," you avoided his eyes, "it's my ex."
"oh, fuckin' 'ell," he sighed, dropping his arms to his side, and he's about to speak, until you interrupt.
"we broke up years ago, but he's never left me alone," you ring your wrists with your hands nervously, and hobie notices – you looked terrified, "i've tried everything; i've tried the police, i've moved countless times, i've changed jobs, made new friends, met new people – he won't leave me be."
tears welled up now, and his heart reached for you, but his arms stayed stuck by his side.
"every guy that i meet, he's, i don't know, calling them telling them i'm someone i'm not, or following them home and slashing tires, or roughing them up outside pubs," paranoia enveloped you, and your eyes darting around the crowd, "i was so scared, because you're the best i've ever had, and probably will ever have, and i don't want him to scare you off."
"y/n–"
"and i understand if this has done exactly what i'm scared of, because i get that keeping it from you was awful, but i was only trying to protect you and–"
his lips cut you off, warm against your own, capturing your words and pushing them back down your throat. hands on your cheeks, body flush against your own, you melted into him completely. it felt like heaven, like months of tension and longing unravelling like ribbon into the wind. it was safe, gentle, like a promise – a promise that it didn't scare him, and that he was yours.
"is he here?" his voice was low, lips hovering yours.
"i-i don't know," you were flustered, your brain trying to make sense of it all, but his hand on the small of your back stopped any cognitive thoughts, "i haven't seen him."
watching him, hobie's dark eyes floated around the crowd, before falling back onto you. smirk on his lips, he placed a quick peck onto your cheek.
"hmm, i hope he enjoyed the show," he chuckled lowly, and you couldn't help but mimic it, relief flooding off your shoulders, "how about we go somewhere a bit safer?"
"like where?" you questioned, intrigued by the coaxing tone of his voice.
"well, i only live around the corner," he shrugged, before offering his hand. blushing, you slipped your hand into his, the soft skin of his fingers pulling you towards him, until he threw his arm around your shoulder.
"nothing could scare me off, you know," he whispered, placing a kiss to your hair, "i'm 'ard as nails."
"oh yeah?" you giggled.
"mhmm."
clothed eyes glued to the suspicious figure, hobie stood on a rooftop, footsteps silent as he follows the man below. tailing him through the cobbled back lanes of london, hobie's back tingled with apprehension – he'd been following him for at least a mile, waiting for a perfect opportunity.
and he'd finally found it.
pausing his heavy stroll, the man dug into his pockets and pulled out a slightly crushed pack of cigarettes, fumbling further for a lighter. a small orange glow lit up the air around him as he puffed away, smoke fluttering to meet hobie's nose.
silently, hobie swung to a platform below, pulling his guitar tighter against his back and dropped to the hard ground. the sound of his leather boots colliding with the cobble made the man turn in his direction, eyes wide at the sight.
"spiderman?" the man breathed between puffs, voice hoarse, "can i help you?"
"you know what, i think you can," hobie strutted, hands stuffed into his leather jacket, lanky stance towering him, "are you y/n's ex fella?"
"who's asking?" he questioned stupidly, and hobie let out a laugh.
"bruv, who's– are you stupid or somethin'?" hobie punched him lightly in the shoulder, "do you not see the whole get up?"
"the fuck have you got to do with y/n?" he spat, defensive stance taking over his body.
"none of your business," hobie knew that would sting, "but you're gonna leave her alone, fella."
"you don't know what you're talking about."
"i'm not askin', mate," hobie stepped closer, "and i'm not givin' you a choice."
before he could even utter a response, hobie had swung his spike-studded arm in his direction, knuckles colliding against the pathetic man's jaw, knocking him to the ground below.
"tha's my girl you're messin' with now."
#hobie brown#hobie brown fanfiction#hobie brown imagine#hobie brown x you#hobie brown x reader#spiderpunk#spider punk x you#spider punk x reader#spider punk#hobie#hobie my beloved#atsv hobie#hobie spiderverse#hobie x reader#across the spiderverse#hobie x you#across the spider verse spoilers
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STFUATTDLAGG
character/s: choso kamo x afab!reader
SYNOPSIS: meangirl!reader x loser!choso is a pairing that lives in my head rent free so when you all voted for choso to be the next hot man i wrote for i knew this was what would come out of it so let’s get into it whores
WARNINGS: this is college based bc u know why. 18+, nsfw, mdni, the whole shebang, kiddos avert ur eyes IT'S ALL SMUT / also just be aware i did use fem language for reader. as always, i did not proof read xxx
A/N: delusion is like drugs for simps, and i am the crackhead
Choso isn't like a nerdy loser, more like he’s just an emo boy, he’s got that alternative look going on and in a school full of preppy rich kids he stands out like a sore thumb. Of course this leads to some not so nice kids being not so nice to him, to which like he literally could not care less. He pays no mind to what anyone thinks of him beyond of course what his brothers think of him.
And as much as people aren’t nice to him, they do not fuck with him directly, lowkey scared of his reactions. Especially following a specfic incident in which someone tried to pick a fight with him. At first he was going to just let it slide but then they said something rude about Yuuji and this man laid them out. People were sent to urgent care and everything. Choso was put on suspension and almost kicked out, but their family friend is a lawyer and threatened to sue the school and anyways (if you know who you know who) so he was allowed back at school and everyone’s a little weary of him. This doesn’t stop the mean comments from coming.
And you. You’re no exception. You made fun of him every chance you got. The way he always did his hair in that weird double bun updo, or how he had his nails painted black, his various piercings and tattoos, the way he dressed so much different, was so much different, than any of the other guys you knew at school.
And you were so disgustingly attracted to him. While everyone would sneer and make fun of him and you played along, in reality you were internally berating yourself.
Choso did his best to ignore you but to be honest in the end you were just too fun to mess with. He thought it was cute how you thought you could hurt his feelings, how you really tried, and didn’t realize that he had a thing for brats and that’s just what you were. Everyone else was too afraid to say it straight to his face ever since the fight except for you.
One time he caught you staring at him and he couldn’t help himself, leaning over with a careless smirk. "If you spent less time staring at me and more time paying attention to the lecture maybe you wouldn’t be failing the class."
"Fuck you, Choso.”
"You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
You hoped he’d mistake your embarrassment for anger. He didn’t. You snapped back, as usual. "Maybe if you didn’t dress like such a freak, you’d actually have some friends.”
"Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch your boyfriends would actually stick around for longer than a few months."
The one stung, and you tried not to let it show. Thrown off your game, all you could bring yourself to reply back was: “don’t call me a bitch.”
He shrugged, as though he were bored with the conversation already. "I never said it was a bad thing, just that you keep dating dudes who can’t handle you."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
He doesn't answer though, and you spend way too much time thinking about what he could've meant. Was he implying that he could handle you? Was that why he constantly found ways to poke at you? Did he like when you were a brat? Did it matter if he liked it? It led your fantasies down a deep and dark rabbit hole that you spent weeks harping on.
Things get even worse after you realize that Choso might’ve been right about your grades slipping and staring at him in class and whatnot. And (for plot reasons of course) that would mean your professor paired you up with him for the final project so that you’d stand a better chance at passing the class.
Which is how you find yourself standing outside of his apartment door, debating how much you need to actually pass the course for your degree. You kept coming to the same conclusion. You definitely needed to.
"You just gonna stand at my door like a creep or can you move so i can let you inside?” He stood at the top of the staircase up to his apartment, watching you with another bored expression.
You're reaction is second nature. "I’m the creep? How long were you just standing there watching me? Maybe I’d already knocked and you didn’t answer so I was waiting. Let’s get on with it, I don’t need anyone seeing me hanging around-”
"Alright relax, princess. No one’s around to hear you act like you hate me. Come inside and I’ll grab us something to drink.” He opened the door to let you both inside, holding it open for you to enter first.
"First off, I do hate you. And second, how do I know you’re not going to poison me?”
"Don’t worry, I wouldn’t poison you. The plan was going more in the direction of choking.”
"Choked to death? Good to know.”
"You implied killing. All i said was choking.”
"Oh, gross.” You groaned. You pushed away the images that were brought to your mind. Choso's hand around your throat, fingers in your mouth, his breathy whispers telling you what else he'd have you choking on by the end of the night.
It's not too bad for the first few hours. You start out working on the project in the living room, but Choso’s neighbors are loud as all hell and you eventually ask if you guys can move into a room away from that shared wall. And (of course for plot purposes) that would be his bedroom.
"Your bedroom is exactly as I pictured it would be."
"This is the part where I make fun of you for picturing what my bedroom looks like."
"Yeah weird and creepy, just like you.”
"Your insults are getting less and less creative.”
"Yeah well….shut up.”
He’s surprised at that, usually you’d come back at him with something witty and clever and he actually enjoyed it.
It’s quiet and he’s sitting at his desk while you lay casually on his bed when he decides now’s as good a time as ever, and he might never actually get you alone again to say it.
"You ever gonna admit that you find me attractive or keep lying to the both of us?"
You wince. "I don't find you attractive. Stop flattering yourself."
"You flatter me enough with all the staring and drooling you do over me in class."
"You're obsessive," you snap at him.
"At least i can admit it."
You're caught off guard, stuck between wanting to ask what he means and not wanting to give in to the obvious baiting he's doing. When he throws the study material down on to his desk and plops down in front of you on his bed, it seems like he's resigned to not giving you that choice.
"Tell you what, I'll tell you all of the dirty and depraved things I think about on a daily basis, and you can decide after whether you'd like to share those same thoughts of yours with me or not."
"Why would I want to hear any of the thoughts in your head?"
"Because a lot of them revolve directly around you." He's leaned so close you're almost touching one another. Your silence is enough to spur him on. "I think you've never been fucked properly before."
You can't contain the look that falls on your face. "Seriously? This what you think about? My sex life is none of your business, but I'm doing just fine in that department, thank you very much."
He ignores you. "I don't think you've ever been told to shut the fuck up and take it like the good girl I know you can be." That shut you up real quick. Choso is on his knees in front of you, hands cupping around your neck, his thumbs running across your cheeks. "You're whiney little fucking attitude not do it for your boyfriends?" He teased. "They not know how to deal with you when you're being a brat, huh?"
You're head moves without conscious effort, nodding to agree with him.
"You just want some attention, don't you?"
Another nod.
"You want my attention, don't you?"
Hesitation. But you can't help yourself, his presence looming heavy over you, pushing you to admit what you'd kept in the dark for so long.
One of his hands slithers from your throat, down your chest, under the sweats you threw on in a rush to get to his apartment. You're so distracted by his fingers that you don't notice his face moving closer until his mouth is prying yours open. That's all it takes from him to have you stroking your fingers through his hair, pulling it out of the buns they typically are held in.
"Such a little brat." He's hovering over you, pushing your hips into the soft cushion of his bed with his. "Feel how hard it makes me?" He teases as he grinds his hips down, his clothed cock sliding against your center. Your eyes flutter and he grips onto your face with one hand, squeezing firmly. "You're gonna fuck me tonight. Nod if you understand."
You can't believe how quick your head moves up and down. "You're gonna take off those pretty little panties you wore hoping I'd get to see and slide up and down my dick until I tell you to stop. I don't want you cumming until I feel you've begged enough."
It takes no time at all for him to flip the two of you and prop himself up on his forearms. His pants are shimmied off and thrown to his bedroom floor alongside yours.
Your hands are desperate to line him up, anticipation building to have him deep inside of you, but his shoot out to pull them up and place them against his chest. "No, no, no. You don't get me inside you yet, not until you prove to me you deserve it." He urges you along his shaft, flat against his stomach. "That's right, be a good little slut for me and let me feel that pussy slide against my dick."
You watch him from above, his face contorting from concentration to pleasure to near desperation. You've never felt as powerful as you did riding him. Not a single one of your boyfriends ever turning you on as much as Choso was right now. He made you work for it, praising you when you did what he asked, and you chased that praise.
"Shit, look at that baby," he grabbed your hair and yanked your face down to watch yourself slide against him. "Need to feel you squeeze that pussy around me. Fuck, slide me in, slide me in-" his loud groans matched your high pitched sound of relief at having him seated inside you. "Fuck this."
He flipped the two of you back over, gripping each of your legs and forcing them up. "Hold right under your knees for me. Good girl, keep yourself open for me, let me just use you." He fell to his forearms as he plowed into you, giving you no time to get used to any sort of pace.
You tried your best to hold your legs, but you wanted so badly to touch him. One of your hands wandered back up into his lose hair.
He could barely keep his eyes open, mumbling all kinds of truths you were sure he would've kept locked inside had he not been so drunk on the feel of being inside you. "So fucking pretty," he kissed you sloppily, "such a stupid fucking brat, just needed my cock inside you. Feel like heaven, baby. Gonna let me cum inside your little cunt, right? Made me wait so fucking long to have you, I deserve it. Don't I deserve it?"
You can barely form any coherent words, setting for nodding and breathy uh huhs.
"So fucking mean to me, and look how good I'm being to you, huh?" You feel the light slap of his head against your cheek. "Say your sorry, beg me to cum inside your pussy."
You do beg, your apology comes out in between the stuttering and slurring of your words, but you beg and plead with him until he concedes. It his own orgasm that pushes you over, his groans and relentlessness that follow, pushing himself passed the point of no return. You can see the beginning of what looks like tears in his eyes, and he has to force himself to stop, his hips jerking from the overstimulation.
He kisses you ruthlessly, letting his tongue claim your mouth in a manner more harsh than it is anything else. And when he pulls away and his eyes settle back on yours they're equally as harsh.
"No more shitty little boyfriends that can't handle you. I'll handle you. You want my cock, you ask nicely. Understand?"
"Yes," you let your lips peck his, surprising him, "what if I don't wanna be nice about it?"
He smirks, "try it and find out. Now get on your knees and suck my cock like the good girl I know you can be."
#choso x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader#choso smut#jjk choso#choso x you#choso x female reader#choso kamo x reader#choso kamo#jujutsu kaisen choso
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come on home
in which the only person who can comfort you after your breakup with spencer reid, is spencer reid
inspired by the song "summer's end" by the artist currently known as phoebe bridgers
wc 2857
warnings: gn!reader (correct me if im wrong), minor mommy issues, angst, happy ending
a/n: thank you to the person who requested this:) u r an angel and I listened to this song the whole time i wrote (if you haven't heard, listen!!) i sincerely hope you enjoy, i like this one a lot<3
She hung up on you.
Forty-seven minutes of being insulted and berated after you’d called her looking for comfort, and you put up with every single cruel word—just for your mother to hang up on you. And it’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do, so you shouldn’t be surprised. An ache, you’d expect—but it shouldn’t sting like this. You thought you knew better.
Now you’re in a ball on your couch, clutching your phone to your chest and crying. There’s no point hiding it. Your roommate is out with her girlfriend for the evening—which is too bad because even though you feel like being alone, you’re sure that’s the wrong call. Your other friends are out having fun tonight, too. They’d even invited you, but you turned them down. Look where that had gotten you. Obviously, your mother is not the person you’re about to run to for comfort, either.
You try to pretend, while you’re thinking of all these people who have ever cared for you, that Spencer Reid isn’t on your mind at all. You try to pretend like you don’t care that the person who loved you until you believed you actually deserved it is a contact going stale deep in the bowels of your text cache. With bleary eyes you scroll down, looking for your conversation where it gathers dust—the end of your relationship was a mutual decision, and you’re friendly, but you haven’t texted in a few weeks. Probably because every time the conversation starts to feel a little too easy, or the phone call lasts a little too long, that aching void in your chest gets worse and worse. Like pain in a phantom limb, you become acutely aware of what you do not have and how much it hurts.
So blame it on the tears, or the mind-muddling melodrama of your relationship with your mother, blame it on anything but the truth—when your thumb drops on that call button like the plunger on a syringe, you don’t regret it.
What you’re not expecting is for him to answer after the first ring.
“Hi,” you say with a snuffle before Spencer can get a word in. There’s a brief interlude, in which you pick at your nails, comfortable to just sit in silence if that’s what he wants. As long as he’s there.
“Hi.” Hearing his voice instantly melts a bit of the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. Another pause, for which you remain silent, because you can feel him formulating a question—and you’d like to hear him speak again. “...am I allowed to ask if you’re okay?”
Your lips purse and twist to the side, pained and comforted by how easily he can tell that you’re distraught. One word across a tinny connection, and he knows.
“No. Yes. I mean... I guess that’s why I called you. But you don’t have to ask me about it.” You sniff again and take a deep breath. “How was your day? What state are you in?”
“I’m in the district,” he answers after a moment, easing into a casualness that he likely doesn’t feel for your sake. Wind crunches through the speaker. He probably just got out of work. “My day was... it was good. I got to talk about my job to a bunch of elementary schoolers, which is always a confidence boost.”
You chuckle, still laying on your side on the couch and watching storm clouds gathering outside.
“Nice, nice. What else?”
“Let’s see... I forgot lunch, so I had three oranges, and they were actually pretty good. I reread Game of Thrones—I don’t know why I did that. I’m never going to like that book.”
“Masochist,” you smile. He laughs, and you hear the sound of a car door opening.
“Oh! I talked to my mom. Believe it or not, she says hi.”
A completely inadvertent snort constitutes your response. It’s not what you meant to do, and out of context it’s sort of mean, but you actually think it’s incredibly endearing that he still talks to his mother about you. He scrambles to explain himself.
“I swear, we barely talked about you this time. Mostly we talked about her new boyfriend Leonard.”
“No, no, that’s not... I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you or your mom. That’s really sweet, actually. Tell her I say hi too.”
When he next speaks, you can hear the smile in his voice.
“I will.” Another long pause. You imagine him sitting in the parking lot at Quantico, keys vertical in the ignition of his old car and feeling the silence just as much as you are. He surprises you by not ending the conversation—instead he asks a question. It is concern, poorly disguised with nervous humor. Or maybe you just know him too well. “Do I get to find out what’s on your mind, or are you leaving me in suspense here?”
You bite the inside of your cheek.
“Um... well, actually, I just got off the phone with my mom, too. It didn’t go so well,” you laugh halfheartedly, “I know it was dumb to try and have an actual conversation with her, but... you know me. Always following blind optimism to the depths of hell.”
“Why’d you call your mom?” he asks, so gently it brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes. Still, you attempt to put a cheerful affect on your strained voice.
“Mm, you know. Just needed someone to talk to.”
Spencer’s knowing sigh does little to make you feel better.
“You know you can always talk to me, right? I know it’s... it’s different now, but... I care about you a lot. And, you know, I receive very few phone calls, so the line is pretty much always open.”
Your laugh quickly devolves into a cry.
“I appreciate that, but I can’t talk to you about everything.”
“Why not?” he pleads immediately, voice thin and desperate like it’s his most burning question. A million lies dance over the tip of your tongue. A million things that feel safer to say than the truth. But in the end, it comes out anyway—choked, and so quiet, but aloud nonetheless.
“Because I’m trying really hard to stop missing you so much.”
Another long beat of silence. The back of your throat feels dry and hollow—a cage for your hummingbird heart.
“If it hurts too much to talk to me, you don’t need to do that to yourself. But I also don’t want you to hurt yourself thinking you’re alone. You are... so important to me. I will always try to take care of you the best I can—whether that means staying away or being at your front door. If you ever need me, or even... vaguely want me, I will be there.”
Each word caves your resolve. Each syllable is a slap in the face to progress you’d been pretending to make. You can be strong—you've proven that over the past ten weeks. You can be stone-faced and slash at your heart until the scar tissue is thick and jagged, and eventually it won’t hurt anymore. But maybe, by letting someone tend to the wounds, they’ll heal a little nicer. A little kinder. Even if you can’t undo the damage, maybe one day you’ll be soft again.
“What if I vaguely want you right now?” you sniffle.
Finally, you hear the silver jingle of keys turning. The sputter and rumble of an old engine coming to life.
“Then I’m on my way.”
Twenty four minutes later, there’s a soft knock at your door.
After the call had ended, you’d wondered if you made it all up. Surely your ex-boyfriend wasn’t actually about to show up at your apartment. Someone you’ve grieved for can’t just come back—there are countless horror novels and movies based upon that very tenet. Does it matter if they ever actually died? How long is ten weeks, really? It feels like a lifetime.
You shuffle across the room, wiping under your eyes with your already damp sleeves, and undoing all the locks Spencer had conditioned you to start using. When the door cracks open, and you see Spencer standing there, windswept and concerned, for the first time in months, it hits you like a tidal wave. You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, still just as in love with him as you ever were. The relief that floods your veins as he looks down at you with so much care in his eyes is like sinking into warm water. It’s a dead giveaway, and maybe it makes this whole thing a terrible idea, but you can’t seem to care very much. You open the door wider, and he enters, and he stands in your kitchen with his hands in his coat pocket as you shut the door and he’s perfect. It dawns on you that for the first time since the breakup, you feel safe. Like you don’t have to be a stone pillar anymore. This, of course, translates into even more tears, which you try to hide as you face away, re-locking the door.
“Sweetheart...” he sighs, because you can’t hide anything from him. Hearing the resonance of his voice so close to you once more is overwhelming. In an instant you’re rushing into his arms, and he accepts you without hesitation. You bury your teary face in the vetiver safety of his button-up and slip your arms under his coat, as if you could absorb his warmth and forever hide from the world that way. He pulls you even closer. It’s terrible and cruel how much he is exactly what you needed. “What’s wrong? What did she say?”
You shake your head and gasp a small sob.
Truthfully, you’re not really crying about the petty insults from your mother anymore. You’re back to square one, the reason you’d called your mother to begin with—you miss the man whose arms are currently wound around your shoulders.
His hand smooths over the back of your hair.
“Okay. That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.”
You stay like that—content even as you cry because being with him feels so much safer than being alone. It feels right—or perhaps it’s just familiar. You don’t know which is worse.
Spencer is rubbing soothing lines up and down your back as you cling to him, soaking him up in all his ephemeral, comforting glory. He surprises you by chuckling—it vibrates through his chest, buzzing against your ear.
“Nice Magritte print. I bet the person who bought that has fantastic taste.”
“Are you gonna ask for it back?” you mumble into the fabric of his suit jacket. He is, of course, referring to the painting you’d more or less stolen from his apartment seven months ago. You really don’t want him to take it home. It’s the most overt Spencer memorabilia you’d allowed yourself to keep in plain sight.
“No, baby. You can keep it.” The words are low, and kind, and they settle you some, but you can’t seem to get him close enough. “What can I do?” he whispers after a moment, helpless as you take a shuddering breath. “Can I make you tea? Have you eaten?”
“Will you just... stay for a little bit? I’ll—I promise I’ll stop crying.”
There is an unexpected lull where you thought you’d receive pretty immediate agreement, but before you can pull back and ask what’s wrong, he murmurs, “yeah. I can stay for a while. But you have to kick me out before it gets too late.”
You wonder if you’re imagining the double-entendre that seems to underline his words in bold red ink. Spencer is too smart to have not noticed a thing like that. You don’t mention it—it all boils down to the same unspoken idea.
Don’t let me stay, because I might not leave.
“I will,” you sniff, finally stepping back and wiping your own tears. It hurts to lose his touch, but at least you know he’s not going anywhere for the next few hours. This, as opposed to everything else lately, can be a beginning instead of an end.
At least, until he goes home.
Three and a half hours later, after tea, an impromptu dinner comprised mostly of cheese and crackers, and several vinyl changes on your record player (which served only as background noise for your long, ambling conversations), things are seeming to wind down to a natural stopping point. Which you hate. The whole time you’d had a dull ache in your chest because talking to him was easier than breathing and you knew it wouldn’t last. There had been one or two false bottoms already—the first when you’d yawned around nine, and the second when you’d gotten up to do your skincare and brush your teeth half an hour later. Even then he’d just leaned against the doorframe, watching your reflection above the sink as you talked for fifteen more minutes. Now you stand across from each other in the kitchen, plates restacked and everything in order. Of course he’d insisted on helping you clean up.
“I should go,” he says, with a soft sort of finality in his voice.
“Is your carriage turning into a pumpkin?” you tease gently, to hide how much you don’t want him to leave. He smiles—a small, weary thing—but genuinely and endlessly charmed by you.
“That among other things.”
“Would you—would you walk me to my room first?”
The hesitance is clear in his eyes and the way his lips part as if to say, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea’, but you're sure he’s really going to leave in a moment and you’re also sure he won’t deny you this one small thing before he does.
“Okay.”
It’s a short, silent walk through the living room and down the hall to your bedroom door, but you can feel him trailing behind you the whole way. You stop in front of your open door, turning face to face with him.
“Thanks,” you murmur.
His lips pull into a melancholy smile.
“Anytime.”
There’s nothing left to do but wrap your arms around each other once more, tuck yourself into the you-sized space between his head and shoulder and hold on for as long as he’ll let you. The hug lingers for longer than is wise. Spencer adjusts his arms looped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you nuzzle against his neck, grateful that at least he seems as reluctant to let this end as you are.
But eventually, it relaxes. Your hold on each other loosens. His face is just inches from yours, and you get to study every plane and valley and line like you’d thought you never would again. It seems he’s doing the same—losing himself in the luxury of seeing you up close.
“Will you kiss me goodnight?” you whisper, unable to muster any self-consciousness though you know it’s a fool’s errand. Spencer strokes your waist.
“I can’t do that, honey.”
“Why not?”
His voice is just as quiet as yours. It falters slightly as he speaks, so gently, so patiently.
“Because we’re not together anymore.”
“Why not?”
Your feeble, desperate supplication sounds pitiable even to you. You’re not proud, but you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, either. All you want is an answer. But it’s like a child asking why the sky is blue, or the earth is round. There is a definitive explanation, but mostly, the adult will shrug, and say, that’s just how it is.
Spencer’s eyes squeeze shut. His head tilts down.
“We can’t do this again, sweetheart. You know why we’re not together.”
In theory—yes. You’d had so many conversations when you’d broken up. It had been a long, painful process, spanning multiple all-nighters at his kitchen table, nursing coffee and trying to convince each other and yourselves that it was the right choice. But it just feels like a horrible, horrible mistake. You feel desperate to explain this to him before he slips away again—the words come out flustered, inelegant as you cling to him.
“But I don’t think I’m getting better without you. I tried, I tried so hard to be good on my own, but everything is worse and harder and—and we weren’t sure about it then, and I don’t think it was the right choice, because I still really need you. Like, all the time. I’m—it’s not getting better without you. Nothing got better.”
He swallows, eyes darting between yours for an infinite second. You’re breathless and your heart is pounding after your confession—you can feel your eyes stinging with the few tears that managed to escape as you spoke.
“Everything is worse,” he agrees shakily. “Everything. I’m—I’m getting disciplinary infractions from Hotch like I’m a child because I can’t focus on anything. Game of Thrones is the most complex literature I can comprehend right now. I had to use a calculator the other day.”
You want to laugh, but nothing is funny until he’s yours again.
“Then come back. Please come back, Spencer.”
Finally, he leans closer, until your heads are pressed together, and his nose bumps yours, feather light. You're dizzy. You exhale. He inhales.
“I don’t think I knew how to leave in the first place.”
When he kisses you, it feels like home.
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fic#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds
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casual | dabi/touya todoroki
“My mom wants to meet you.”
It’s a sentence uttered as Touya pulls the T-shirt he’d discarded earlier (while he was pushing you toward your bed and sucking your tongue into his mouth) over his head. It comes as a shock, lying in your bed completely bare, still struggling to catch your breath. It shouldn’t make you feel excited in the way that it does, not when Touya has been more than clear about the nature of the relationship between the two of you. Nothing serious. No commitment.
Casual.
notes: hiiiii so this is just something I’ve been working on for a bittttt it’s inspired by causal by Chappell roan it’s nothing special but I just couldn’t get the idea out of my head so yeahhhh sorry for the severe lack of smut in a friends with benefits fic btw ahsjsjsjs thanks for reading hope u enjoy!!<3
warnings: 18+, minors dni, f!reader, explicit content, no quirk au, oral f!recieving, friends to lovers, friends with benefits, the todorokis are healing, dabi is called Touya throughout literally the entire thing
words: 4.1k
“My mom wants to meet you.”
It’s a sentence uttered as Touya pulls the T-shirt he’d discarded earlier (while he was pushing you toward your bed and sucking your tongue into his mouth) over his head. It comes as a shock, lying in your bed completely bare, still struggling to catch your breath. It shouldn’t make you feel excited in the way that it does, not when Touya has been more than clear about the nature of the relationship between the two of you. Nothing serious. No commitment.
Casual.
“What?” You aren’t sure how you should respond, or what the right answer is. He shrugs, buttoning his jeans.
“You don’t have to. Just promised her I’d ask.” He says, turning around to dig through your dresser. He pulls out one of the shirts he’s left there and a pair of underwear for you, tossing the items your way. You change, covering yourself up before moving to sit in the middle of the bed, legs tucked underneath you.
“You’ve been talking to her about me?” You question. You know it’s not what he wants to hear.
“I’ve mentioned you.” He tells you. He’s still standing, staring down at you. Your question should have been teasing, but you were sincere. You’ve met his siblings before. You know you’re not a secret to his family, but the mention of his mom feels entirely too serious. It makes you feel hopeful. You don’t want to feel hopeful.
“Oh, yeah?” You grin, your last ditch effort at turning this back on him, to show him that you can handle casual, that you like casual. He rolls his eyes.
“It’s not a big deal.” He shrugs. “She’s met all my friends.”
“Friends like me?” You ask him. You aren’t even sure what you mean by it. Touya was your friend long before the two of you had sex. That doesn’t really make you different from the others in any real way.
Touya is your friend. Sometimes, you wish he wasn’t.
“Friends like you…” He trails off. His eyes flicker from yours like he’s thinking about it. “No, I guess she hasn’t.”
You hum, nodding your head. You don’t want to read into what he could possibly mean by that. But, truthfully, Touya doesn’t have any friends like you.
“Whatever. I tell my mom about you. You write about me in your little diary.” He speaks, leaning down so he’s at eye level with you. He kisses you once, long and hard before pulling away. “We’ll call it even.”
He stands up straight, grabbing his keys from the top of your dresser and picking his jacket up from the floor on his way out of your bedroom. He turns back to wink at you once before disappearing through your doorway.
“It’s not a diary!” You call, but he only chuckles in response.
…
wear that one dress read 7:42am
the blue one with the flowers read 7:42am
does ur mom like blue? sent 7:43am
?? read 7:44am
no i like blue read 7:44am
and i like you in blue read 7:45am
ok maybe sent 7:45am
…
You do not wear the dress.
Touya chuckles when he sees you, like he knew you wouldn’t and opens the passenger side door for you. Your sweater is blue, though.
Rei lives near the shore in a house that’s all her own. Touya tells you that he and his siblings visit as much as possible, that his sister thinks she might get lonely out on her own, but he knows she enjoys the solitude. There’s a freedom to it, the choice. Touya can understand that.
The road is long, and once the two of you get out of the city, there’s not much to look at. You watch the weather change out the window, blue skies above slowly shift into damp overcast and Touya rests his hand on your thigh.
He’s done it more times than you can count. It’s not unusual for Touya to touch you. He’s clingy like that. But in the car, driving two hours out of the city to meet his mother, it feels different. It is different. You want to believe that.
She stands at the front door as the two of you pull in. Her presence is a surprise to you when you know Touya hadn’t used his phone once the entire car ride. She looks small, delicate, almost, with a strength that settles in her shoulders, her chin tilted up slightly. You see now, how much of her is in him.
“She does this every time,” Touya speaks. “I have no clue how she knows.”
“Mother’s intuition.” You shrug.
“It’s creepy.”
“I think it’s cool.” You say. He flicks your forehead.
“You would.” He squeezes your thigh once before getting out of the car. He jogs to your side and lets you out. You feel his hand brush against yours as he leads you up to the house, but he never intertwines your fingers like you wish he would.
Rei introduces herself warmly and embraces you in a tight hug. Touya has to bend down a bit to allow her to hold him around his shoulders. She ushers the two of you inside and runs a hand through Touya’s hair, murmurs something about a haircut, but he shakes her hand off of his head and insists that he keeps it this way because you like it. You’ve never told him you liked his hair before. But it’s enough to get Rei off of his back about it because she sends you a knowing smile as you follow her into the living room.
The visit is a standard one as far as meeting the parents goes. Touya’s favorite food has been prepared and the three of you eat as Rei asks you questions. She’s understanding when the topic of your future comes up and you aren’t sure how to answer. She’s engaged when you tell her about your hobbies. At some point, you forget you’re here with Touya until you’re reminded of his presence when you turn your head in his direction and notice an uncharacteristically soft expression on his face. It confuses you, and it makes your stomach flip. You can’t ignore the feeling of his eyes on you for the rest of the visit.
When Rei pulls out a photo album, Touya stands up and says he’s going outside to smoke. You know part of it is because of embarrassment, old photos of such a young innocent thing, him in matching clothes with Natsuo, photos of all his bad haircuts. You also know that part of it is that he’d rather not think about that time in his life, even though his father is cut out of all the photos Rei shows you.
Rei speaks after a while, flipping through the pages of the album, “you’re good for him.”
You don’t look at her, eyeing one of Touya’s school photos from long ago.
“What did he say I was…to him?” You question.
“A friend.” She speaks, “But I think it’s obvious that it’s more than that.”
“Not really. I am his friend. I mean, I’m not a girlfriend or anything like that.” You try to explain. “I can’t really be good for him.”
“I think you can. I think you are.” She continues to flip through the photo album, and you continue to check the back door in case Touya walks in on your conversation.
“It means a lot that you say that. I really care about him.” You admit it to her even though she already knows because it feels right to. You want her to know that you could love her son if he let you, that you would in a heartbeat. It’s just more complicated than that.
“I can tell you do. And he cares about you, too. He’s just stubborn.” She pauses. “And scared.”
“Yeah.” You sigh. “Me too.”
Touya walks through the door a moment later. “We should go soon. I wanna leave before it gets dark. And I don’t need you two spilling any more secrets about me to each other.”
You freeze for a moment, wondering if he heard your earlier exchange, but the teasing tilt of his voice tells you he didn’t.
You say goodbye to Rei, and she makes you both promise that you’ll visit her again soon. When she hugs you, firm and tight like before, you feel sad to go. Touya guides you to his car with a hand placed on the small of your back. He doesn’t open your door for you, but he holds your hand the entire way home.
…
should we open a cafe read 2:22pm
what sent 2:25pm
or a bookstore read 2:26pm
what are u talking abt sent 2:27pm
both at the same time read 2:28pm
???? read 2:28pm
u wanna be business partners on top of being sent 2:29pm
whatever this is sent 2:29pm
fuck buddies read 2:30pm
ew sent 2:30pm
dont call it that sent 2:30pm
lovers???? read 2:32pm
pls stop sent 2:33pm
what shld we name the cafe/bookstore read 2:34pm
?? read 2:40pm
…
“Touya!” You cry, head thrown against the foggy car window as he stares up at you from between your legs. You run one hand through his hair as he runs his tongue through your folds. You whine. “Oh, my god.”
He pulls away to let out a breathy laugh, eyes finding yours as he kisses your thighs. You shift your hips forward, missing his mouth against your cunt. It’s cramped in his car, your back uncomfortably pressed against the door. Touya’s contorted in a way that allows his long body to fit in the back seat with the door closed. His comfort is an afterthought while in between your thighs.
“Don’t stop.” You cry, wiggling your hips. He grins, bringing his hand up to run two fingers gently over your clit. It’s not enough. You can barely stand it.
“Poor baby.” He coos, rubbing agonizingly slow circles over your most sensitive spot. “Were you gonna come?”
“Fuck you.” You speak through clenched teeth, moving your hips to try and grind against his fingers.
“Not yet.” He teases, before attaching his lips to your cunt once more. His movements are hurried, making a mess of you in his backseat as he runs his tongue over your clit over and over again. You feel his hand reach up to grab your wrist, bringing it back to the top of his head. You tug on his hair, grinding against his face, understanding exactly what he wants from you. He groans against you, reaching down to touch himself through his jeans.
“I’m close!” You whine. Every flick of his tongue is controlled, his only goal being your pleasure. His fingers dig into one of your thighs, and the feeling of your hips twitching against him drives him insane.
“Come for me, baby.” Touya pleads, releasing his grip on your thigh and rubbing a soothing hand over the spot. “You look so fucking pretty when you come. Let me see it.”
With one last swipe of his tongue, you're pushed over the edge, legs shaking around his head as he continues movements against you. He pulls away, leaving kisses against your thighs, moving up over your stomach, your chest, your neck. He pulls you forward with one arm so that you're pressed against him.
“C’mere.” He whispers, pressing his lips tenderly to yours, far too sweet for casual. He slips his tongue into your mouth, and you reach down to touch him over his jeans. He bucks his hips up, letting out a moan against your lips, when his phone begins to ring. He ignores it, pulling away to kiss your neck. You thumb the button of his jeans open, reaching down to touch him again, when the ringing of his phone interrupts yet again. Touya lets out an annoyed sigh, reaching into his back pocket to pull the buzzing device out.
“What.” He speaks, voice laced with anger. When the voice on the other end of the line speaks, you know it’s Tomura.
Touya met Tomura a few years after he met you, and you liked him. You did, but he always found a way to get under Touya’s skin at the worst times. Every comment he makes about the relationship between the two of you leaves Touya with far too much to think about. It usually pushes him away from you for a week at most, replying to your messages with short answers, canceling plans. You figure that now that he’s picked up the phone, your fun in Touya’s backseat is over.
Touya speaks to Tomura as you pull your shirt back over your head, not bothering with your bra, just wanting to get dressed as quickly as possible. You search for your skirt, spotting it halfway underneath Touya while he tells Tomura he’s not free until Saturday night. You try to pull it out from under him, but it won’t budge.
“You’re sitting on my skirt.” You speak softly so you don’t interrupt his call. He notices immediately, lifting his hips for you to grab the piece of clothing. He mutters a quick sorry as you pull it over your legs, and you can hear Tomura question him over the phone.
“Huh? It’s no one.” He speaks, and though you know that you’re nothing more to Touya than a “friend” as he puts it, you hoped you were more to him than “no one”.
You pull your clothes on and exit the car, not wanting to hear the rest of the conversation. The car sits on a ledge, high on some mountain that overlooks a lush forest below. Touya showed you this place years ago while you were still just friends, somewhere that was just his became yours together. Back then it meant a lot to you. Now you know it probably meant nothing to him.
Touya exits the car a couple of minutes after you, eyeing you as you stare down over the cliff. You don’t notice when he comes up beside you, a hand on your back. He says, “you okay?”
“Mhm.” You nod your head, hands crossed over your chest. “I’m tired. Can you take me home?”
“Yeah, let’s go.” He presses a kiss to your temple before walking towards the car. On your way home, when Touya’s hand begins to creep towards your thigh, you cross your legs and move your stare towards your window. When he drops you off at home, you don’t kiss him goodbye.
…
come over read 8:18pm
cant sent 8:30pm
why not read 8:31pm
im studying sent: 8:34pm
study here read 8:35pm
no sent 9:00pm
you’re distracting sent 9:00pm
…
what are you doing read 1:22pm
fuyumi wants me to invite you to lunch read 1:24pm
tell her im sorry but i have class right now sent 1:30pm
u dont have class right now read 1:32pm
?? read 1:32pm
…
where have you been read 11:11pm
i want you read 11:11pm
come over read 11:12pm
please read 11:12pm
wanna kiss you read 11:16pm
need u read 11:30pm
sorry read 10:02am
stole a bottle from natsuo read 10:03am
i wanna see you though read 10:20am
...
Touya texts…a lot.
Your excuses are weak, especially to the man who knows you better than anyone in the world, someone who’s committed your schedule to memory for the better part of two years. But you try because it hurts, because despite agreeing to casual, you cannot continue to pretend like you aren’t in love with Touya. And you can’t continue to pretend that he’s in love with you too.
You write a lot to try and process it all. You write in your “little diary” as he called it, page after page about him and his pretty eyes, and his stupid hair, and his fucking tongue. It’s hard not to miss him.
You screen most of his calls when you can get away with it, but he texts you after each one you miss. He has no problem with double, triple, quadruple texting you because it’s you. There’s no pressure to impress or feign disinterest with you. You know this isn’t about the sex. Touya wants his friend back.
Only the thing is, you can’t be his friend. Not now, not after crossing every single possible line with him. You’ve fallen for him. This much you can admit to yourself, but you’ll never admit it to him.
So your only option is distance, which hurts you just as much as it hurts him. You want to send him cats you see on the street. You want to ask him to see the newest horror film with you. You want to lay in his bed and trace the lines on his face and wake up with his head buried in your neck.
What you want is to be his girlfriend. You want him to love you back.
You don’t know if it’s worse to be with him or without him.
…
r you busy rn? read 5:44pm
yeah sent 5:45pm
ok read 5:45pm
…
There’s a knock at your door at six pm on the dot while you’re thirty-seven pages deep into some cheesy romance novel you picked up to try and mend your broken heart, fill the void that you created by pushing your best friend (and the love of your life) away.
It doesn’t help that you’re wearing one of his shirts.
You open your door and peek through the crack. Touya stands there with a six-pack in one hand and the leather jacket he knows you love on him so much hung effortlessly over his shoulders. Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him. He looks like a model and you’re wearing his T-shirt.
He doesn’t say hello, just pushes his way through and kicks his annoyingly loud boots off, setting them by the door. He places the six-pack on the counter before muttering, “Cute shirt.”
He’s teasing you. You want to strangle him.
“What are you doing here?” You ask him, an annoyed huff leaving your lips as you cross your arms over your chest as if it’ll hide the shirt that he’s already noticed.
“Um, well.” He shrugs, strolling over to your couch where you left your romance novel and fuzzy blanket. He picks the book up and looks at you. “You know, I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” You stomp towards him, snatching the book out of his hands. “You’re the worst. Why don’t you ever say what you actually mean.”
You know why, though. Because Touya is unknowable, or at least he thinks himself to be. That’s why he doesn’t tell you anything real but allows you to see his apartment, allows you to see him naked with all of his scars and make love to him with the lights on. He won’t say that he loves you, but he’ll leave you thirty missed calls and show up at your apartment when he doesn’t get an answer. He won’t say that he’s worried, but he is. You know that he is because you’re the only person who’s ever really known him, even before the sex. Touya has always been yours. If Touya thinks you know nothing, at the very least he thinks you know this.
“Yeah.” He says. “You know, it’s funny cause, all of a sudden my best friend stopped talking to me. Not exactly not talking because she does answer my texts, still. Sometimes she answers my calls, but not really. But, I haven’t seen her in person in weeks. I miss her, and her stupid face, and her giant comfy couch.”
“Touya–” You begin to speak, but you don’t even know what you’re going to say. You’re definitely not going to explain yourself. You’re not going to confess to him wearing his t-shirt like some sad ex-girlfriend.
“Where did you go?” He asks. His voice breaks and it's like a blade in your heart. “Did I do something? Did I say something?”
“I didn’t go anywhere, Touya. I’m here. I’m here, I just–” you pause, trying to find the words to explain it all. “I don’t think we can do this anymore.”
“Do what?” He asks, but it doesn’t sound like a question. He knows what’s coming.
“Sleeping together. I don’t–I can’t–” You try again, but it’s fucking hard to talk to him. You want to kiss him. You want to fall into his arms. You want him to make you forget.
“Done.” He says. He doesn’t hesitate, and it hurts. “We can stop, we can–I just want you back. I want you with me. We can be just friends again, but please, please don’t leave.”
Tears fill your eyes at his words. He’s finally talking to you, finally saying something real, baring his soul, and you can’t tell him that you’ll stay. You love him so much, but you’re selfish.
“We can’t be friends either.” You choke, staring at the floor. If you look into his eyes, you’ll break.
“Why?” He shakes his head, “Talk to me, what’s happening? What changed?”
“Why do you care so much, Touya? I thought I was no one.” The words leave your lips before you can stop them.
“When did I say that?” He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember and it’s the one thing you’ve been agonizing over for weeks.
“What is it about Tomura that makes you shut down around me?” You ask him. Realization falls across his face. “Every time you talk to him you…pull away. I don’t know what to do with that.”
“I don’t pull away.” He argues.
“You do.”
“Is that what you’re doing? You’re trying to get back at me or something?”
“I’m trying to fucking–get over you!”
There’s nothing but silence after your confession. Your eyes fall closed in defeat, admitting the one thing you never wanted him to know.
“I can’t do casual. I am not casual. I tried to be cool. I was really good at it for a while, but now it just hurts.” You speak, voice shaking as you gain the courage to say everything you need to. “The thing is, I love you. And not how I’ve always loved you. I’m in love with you. So it sucks when, you know, I know you’re not in love with me.”
“Who told you I’m not in love with you?” He asks.
“You’re mean.” You say, glaring at him for the unnecessary question. No one told you. You just know. “It’s obvious.”
“Yeah? Is it?” He asks. “You think I bring anyone to meet my mom? You have half of my wardrobe here. You have a toothbrush and all of your stupid skincare shit at mine. I hold your hand in public. I text you good morning and shit.”
“So that means you’re in love with me?”
“Fuck, I thought it did.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. His roots are grown out, you notice. Have you really been gone that long?
“I don’t understand.” Touya is in love with you. Is that what he’s getting at?
“I love you.” He shakes his head, remembering your words from earlier. Not how I’ve always loved you. “I’m in love with you. That’s–Tomura knows. He knew it before I did. He says some dumb shit about it every time I talk about you, and it scares me, so I pull away. I didn’t know it felt like this. I’m fucking miserable.”
“When did you know?” You ask.
“Honestly? I think I always have been. I think that’s why I brought up sleeping together. I wanted to be closer to you without all of the commitment. But it was when you came to dinner that time when my dad showed up.” He walks toward you slowly as he speaks. He’s becoming more sure of himself, open. He’s done hiding. “And when we left, you were so fucking angry. You just ranted about him the whole way home, and it clicked. We were at a stop light and you were moving your hands all around and I thought ‘fuck, please don’t fall in love with this girl’, but it was too late and I knew it.”
“I think this is the most you’ve ever said to me.” You say dumbly. Touya just confessed his love to you and this is what you say?
“That’s not true. I never shut up. You know that. You tell me that all the time.”
“I mean–not, like, about music, or books, or someone who came into work. I mean real, raw, ‘fuck, don't fall in love with this girl’ shit.” You explain, a sly grin falling across your lips.
“You’re a dick.” He chuckles, wrapping his fingers around one of your wrists, and dragging you toward him.
“Yeah, but you’re in love with me.” You shrug, smiling up at him.
“Yeah, I really fucking am.” He says before he leans down to kiss you. It feels right, familiar. It is like all of the others because there’s always been love. It’s always been there. He’s always been yours. Touya knows you know this. “Please don’t…pull away again.”
“Okay.” You agree, resting your forehead against his.
“Cause I’m just gonna chase after you.”
“Yeah? Gonna show up at my apartment with beer I don’t like?” You tease, and he rolls his eyes.
“Fuck you.” He says with absolutely no venom behind it.
“Yeah, maybe you should.” You grin.
#dabi x reader#dabi x female reader#touya todoroki x reader#touya todoroki x female reader#bnha x reader
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touchy bestfriend james makes my brain short circuit i love it so much
can u write a touchy bestfriend james and he’s lying on the bed while reader is in the bathroom and r comes in and sees him and he tells r to come over and lie with him then they fall asleep but she wakes up because he’s awake and playing with her boobs like stress balls and r asks what he’s doing then he just says that they feel warm and soft
Okay this was definitely a rough attempt, but I hope you like it!
cw: pg-13 level smut
bestfriend!James x fem!reader ♡ 618 words
When you come in, James looks nearly asleep despite the sunlight still streaming in through the windows. His face has gone soft and squishy, lips in a half-pout from how his cheek is smushed into his pillow. His hair is getting so long he’s had to push most of it to the back of his head to be able to see his phone screen where he scrolls idly in front of him, but one stubborn curl falls down his face and rests on the bridge of his nose.
“What, do I have a massive pimple or something?” he asks without looking up. “What’re you staring at me for?”
You cover your embarrassment with annoyance, rolling your eyes as you lean against the doorway. “Just wondering why you look like you’re about to drift off at four in the afternoon.”
“Because it’s nice and warm in the sun,” he answers easily. “C’mere, love.”
You do what he says (you always do, in the end), crawling onto the bed and laying down beside him. James shuts off his phone, setting it down in favor of sliding his hand between your waist and the mattress, big palm coming to rest at your navel as he tugs your back closer to his front. You don’t know about the sun, but James is certainly warm.
“Your arm’s gonna fall asleep,” you point out.
“Don’t care,” he says, already sounding drowsier.
“Don’t we have to be up to meet Remus and Sirius in a couple hours?”
“We will be.”
You’re out of protests, and not unhappy for it. James’ palm is warm and comforting on your stomach, his other hand reaching over you to rest just below your sternum. His breathing evens out quickly, and it’s that steady rhythm that eventually lulls you into sleep with him.
You wake, an indeterminable amount of time later, because something feels odd. You rouse slowly, aware first of the pleasant warmth at your back, then of the fact that you’re fully clothed in James bed, and finally of his hands on your boobs.
He’s squeezing them, feeling about with curious but sure hands, one tit in each. You lie there motionlessly, unsure if James is awake, or honestly, if you are. His touch is oddly comforting, and while your best friend is a very tactile person, this level of intimacy is unusual enough that you almost wonder if you might be dreaming. Then he squeezes too hard, and you’re sure you’re not.
“Ow!” you flinch back into James, hand coming up to grip his wrist. “What, are you trying to get milk to come out?”
“Hm?” James’ voice is sleepy, less so as he realizes the placement of his hands. His grip loosens. “Oh, shit. Sorry, love, I was half-asleep. Didn’t realize I was doing that.”
He doesn’t sound nearly as embarrassed as you would be in his situation, but that’s James. “It’s okay,” you say (really, it’s more than okay). “Just, it hurts when you squeeze that hard. They’re sensitive, Jamie.”
You feel him nod against the back of your head. “M’sorry, sweetheart, didn’t mean to hurt ya.” He doesn’t move his hands, though, and you make no move to encourage him to. “They’re just really warm and soft, y’know?”
You do know. The thing poking into your back is warm too, though not so soft.
“I mean, I don’t mind,” you say, glad you’re facing away so he can’t see the intense blush spreading over your face like a blight. “It’s sort of nice. Just…don’t squeeze so hard, okay?”
James’ thumb soothes over the skin of your breast, a comforting touch and a promise. He begins to knead at it gently. “Got it,” he says.
#bestfriend!james potter#bestfriend!james#bestfriend!james x reader#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter x self insert#james potter fanfiction#james potter fanfic#james potter fic#james potter smut#james potter fluff#james potter imagine#james potter oneshot#james potter drabble#james potter one shot#james potter scenario#marauders#marauders era#the marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fanfic#marauders fic#the marauders era#marauders fandom#hp marauders
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Icarus Falling
(Part 2)
Pairing: mob!Bucky x female!tattoo artist!reader
Summary: It’s gonna be a busy day. Giving a tattoo to a mobster that broke into your home was nothing compared to the fact that you can’t stop thing about how fucking hot he is.
Warnings: lots and lots of swearing, mention of crime (duh), fights, broken bones, tattoo needles, threats, think that’s it.
Part one ⬇️:
A/N: AAHHHH the response to part one was actually insane!!!! I hope this second part is good enough. Love u all <3
———————
Bold is reader’s thoughts.
Italics is Bucky’s thoughts.
The size of the tattoo is in inches.
———————
Walking to the shop, your thoughts were running a mile a minute. Holy fuck, what the fuck, did last night actually happen?, James Barnes is gorgeous and made falling asleep last night really fucking difficult, screw him for making me all hot and bothered. Asshole. But one persistent one came screaming to the front- how the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank?
Unfortunately there was not a lot of time to come up with an answer to that, the shopfront coming into view as you turn the corner. Jigsaw Ink stood proud in the middle of the busy Brooklyn street, the black paint of the walls in stark contrast to the pastel pink of the florists’ to one side and the baby blue of the cafe the other.
The shop was a second home to you, the couch at the front becoming a bed for you sometimes after a night out, or if Caleb was being an ass. Frank was nice enough to let you crash when you needed, trusting you with his business. Frank, and the other two artists at the shop, Billy and Curtis were like family - a weird combination of protective older brothers and best friends who were terribly bad influences on you.
The bell on the door rang when you opened it and there was a yelled “Y/N? That you?” from a deep voice at the back of the room.
“Yeah Frankie, it’s me. I thought Billy was supposed to be here, not you?” You yelled back, moving behind the counter toward your station, dropping your bag and taking off your jacket.
“He was, but he managed to get his ass knocked out last night so he’s taking the day off,” Frank replied laughing, walking out from the back towards you.
“What? Is he ok?” You ask, giving Frank a hug when he got closer.
“Managed to piss somebody off at a bar, not really sure what happened, but he’s fine. Just stupid,” he replied, patting your back as you release him.
“Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy but he is an idiot I swear, you can guarantee it was his fault as well,” you say.
Frank chuckle and nods as a response, “yeah I bet. Hey , you got many appointments today?” He asks.
Shit. How the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank Castle - literally the most protective man on earth - that I had to move all of my appointments to next week because a damn mobster broke into my house and demanded I gave him a tattoo today.
“…uh. No just the one, I had to move the rest,” you answer, praying to whoever was listening that Frank wouldn’t ask any questions.
“Why’s that?”
Fuucckkkk.
“Umm..no reason really..” your mind went completely blank, the only thing running through you head were those goddamn blue eyes.
“Kid, what’s going on?” Franks’ eyes narrowing, seeing straight through your bullshit response.
Ughhh. Change the subject right now. “Y’know you call me kid all the time, you’re not that much older than me Frankie. I mean there’s only-”.
“You’re ramblin’ kid. The fuck is going on?” He says, all sense of humor him from his voice.
Ah, there his is, protective Frankie coming in full force.
“Shit. Ok so here’s what happened-” you tell him the full story, coming home from work to see a dangerous criminal chilling in your apartment, the fear that came with that lovely surprise, Caleb’s debt, the weird philosophical conversation, the tattoo talk. All of it.
Of course, excluding the part where you found yourself extremely attracted to the fucking mobster, his weirdly slightly comforting presence, and the fact that the memory of those blue eyes where all you could see as your hand slipped between your legs before you fell asleep.
To be fair to the man, Frank listened to every word you had to say, not interrupting one. But you could see on his face every single emotion he was feeling, the main one being just straight up confusion.
“Lemme get this straight. The fucking Winter Soldier broke into your house last night and is coming in for a tattoo in..” he checked his watch as he spoke, “..an hour?”
“..yeah.” Hit the nail on the head there Frankie.
“Shit.” He says, rubbing his hand over his face in an act of desperation.
“Yep.” You say, patting his arm to try and reassure him.
“Alright, I’m gonna be here the whole time, don’t you worry about that kid. You’re gonna be fine.” He assures you, obviously worried about you.
“I know that Frankie, and if it’s any consolation, he didn’t seem all that bad.” You answer.
“Not that bad?!” He almost shouts, and incredulous look on his face, “Y/N he’s a fucking gangster. He’s fucking danger-“
“FRANK!” You yell, the only way to cut off his tirade before it starts. “I know that, but last night he didn’t do anything bad,okay, and if he wanted to hurt me, he definitely would have done it by now. I’ll be fine Frank, I’ll just give him the tattoo and that will be it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta set everything up.” You say, moving back to your station, beginning to grab everything you need.
“Holy fuck kid, how are you not freaking the fuck out right now?” He whisper shouts, running one hand up and down his head.
“I’m not sure. I think…I think I trust him not to hurt me. It’s weird, but my gut’s telling me I’ll be fine.” You answer, starting to print some different sized stencils.
“Kid your brain is brok-” Frank starts to say but he’s cut off by his phone ringing. He pulls it from his pocket and says “Shit, it’s my kids’ school, I gotta take it.”
You wave him off, Frank answers the phone with a sigh.
He walks off to the back of the shop, leaving you to finish setting up your station. Frank talks for a minute and wander back towards you.
“My girl got into a fight at school, Maria’s busy at work so I’ve got to go get her,” he says, dragging his hands down his face, in a way only an exasperated father could.
“Oh my god is she ok?” You ask.
“She’s fine, but apparently she broke some little shitheads nose for picking on her friends,”
“Like father, like daughter then,” you respond with a laugh.
“Can the people I care about stop getting themselves in dangerous situations for like five goddamn seconds.” Frank says, throwing a pointed glare your way.
“Frankie, how many times, I’m gonna be fine alright, go get your kid and -I dunno- take her out for ice cream, tell her she did good.” You say, pushing him to the door.
“Only if you’re one hundred percent certain you’ll be fine.” He says, already pulling his jacket from the hook.
“I’m good I swear, now go!”
“Ok ok I’m going, stop pushing me” he says, leaving the shop and letting the door fall closed behind him, the bell ringing as it did.
Only a minute passed before your phone pinged with a text.
James:
Have you already forgotten about me that quickly doll?
Send me the address to the shop
Now… please
Fuck me. Why does just his text give me fucking butterflies. Ugh. How irritating.
You send him the address and his response is cheeky as shit.
James:
See you at 1 doll, you better be wearing something pretty for me.
Little shit.
————
You had the music in the shop bumping, using it to help calm your pounding heart, adrenaline starting to get the best of you. Your favourite song came over the speakers so you turned it up and started to dance a little, knowing that you had at least 10 minutes before Barnes turned up. Unfortunately this action caused you to miss the ringing of the bell on the door.
Holy shit - ink and a show, today is going better than expected already.
Bucky slowly let the door close, trying not to disturb the dancing girl he couldn’t get out of his head. He lent against the wall, just watching and waiting…and staring.
Shaking out your hands to get rid of any nerves, you turn and nearly scream when you see Barnes stood at the door.
“Oh god, sorry I didn’t hear you come in,” you say, subtly looking him up and down and damn he looks good. Ever the powerful mobster, he wore a black suit, his black shirt had no tie and was unbuttoned at the top. His hair was slicked back from his face, opposite to how it was the night before. This was the other side of him, the business man - James Barnes: the face of multiple charities, the man that law enforcement could never seem to put behind bars. Last night you met the threat, the assassin, and you may be one of the first in his history to survive a meeting with the Soldier.
“No problem doll, I was enjoying the show,” he says, pushing off of the wall and stalking towards you.
Oh my god, “oh..ok, well I have everything set up and ready so if you’re ok to start I say let get going,” you respond, turning to the part of the shop where your station was, nerves flooding back, wanting to get this over as soon as possible.
“Damn girl, not even any small talk?” He asks, slowly following you to the table.
“Oh sorry, I would have asked how your day has been so far, but I didn’t want you to think I was prying into your business. I wouldn’t want you to think I was being disrespectful ab-”
“Ramblin’ again doll, thought I told you that you don’t need to be afraid of me,” he said softly, sounding genuine. “I know what people say about me, I understand why you would be nervous, but I just ask you to not believe everything you hear, ok doll? I’m not who they say I am.” His tone was gentle, almost tired but still pleading, hoping you believe him.
“So you’re not a mobster?” You ask, voice low and calm.
“Oh no I am,” he responds with a small laugh, “I am, and I do what gangsters do. But I am not the ruthless animal I’m made out to be, doll I’m just not. I do what needs to be done.”
His voice breaks slightly on the pet name. His tone is so sincere and tired. Oh my..he’s telling the truth. It actually affects him to hear that about himself.
“Ok,” you respond, siting on your stool next to your station and the table, looking up at him with no fear in your eyes, trusting his words.
“Ok? That’s your response?” He asks, moving around the table to sit on it directly in-front of you.
“Yeah. What did you want me to do Barnes, not believe you?” You ask, all fear gone from your voice.
“Of course not,” he says, confusion laced in his voice, his eyebrows furrowed, “but I wasn’t expecting you to believe me immediately, shit you were scared of me like a minute ago.”
“I know but I think I trust you? You haven’t done anything to me, y’know other than breaking into my apartment. I trust you when you say you’re not someone I should be afraid of.” You answer truthfully.
“…good.” He says, at a loss of what to say next.
“Good. So, Barnes, are we doing this or what?” You ask.
“Yeah let’s do it doll, and please, call me Bucky.” He responds, shrugging off his jacket, folding it and placing it on the head of the table. You had to make a conscious effort to not stare at the way his arms filled out his shirt, but damn it was hard. He sat silently waiting for you to talk.
“Ok..Bucky.. tell me about what size and what placement you want for this.” You say, “I printed some sizes out because I wasn’t sure what size you wanted, and I can reprint or adjust it based in what you want.”
“Oh you a real professional, huh? Not gonna lie to you doll, that serious voice is kinda getting me goin’” he says, smirk on his face, leaning back on his arms, lifting his hips and moving slightly on the table.
Fuck me, what is this man doing to me? He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s talking again.
“I want to get it on my forearm, the inside, and I think that size looks good,” he says, pointing to the 10x8 you printed.
“Ok that sounds good, which arm were you thinking?”
Silence. He stares down at you, an unreadable look on his face. You break eye contact and then freeze.
Shit. Shit. You dumbass. Which arm? Which fucking arm? Are you kidding? I can literally see his metal fucking hand. Oh dear god.
The silence between you goes on for entirely too long. You’re not sure whether you should apologise or wait for him to speak first. You weren’t sure if he would be offended, having a reminder of his injury.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just continues to stare down at you, that blank look on his face. Looking back up at him, you start to apologise but the words get caught in your throat. His eyes. He couldn’t control them the same way he did his face, tons of different emotions flowing through them, none lasting long enough for you to understand before another one took its place.
If only you knew what he was actually thinking. She asked which arm. She knows about my arm, everyone does, but she still asked. She forgot. The arm is all people see, a weapon, an instrument used to inflict nothing but pain. It’s all people see, but she forgot. That’s not what she sees. Maybe…maybe she just sees me.
He’s shuts his racing thoughts down, fully aware of how awkward the silence was becoming. “I’m thinking my right arm might be a little easier for you doll,” he says, an amused look crossing his face, his tongue poking his cheek.
You open your mouth to apologise for your mistake but he holds up his right hand and says, “and please, you don’t have to apologise like I know you’re going to, we’re all good darlin’.”.
He’s gotta stop with the pet names before I melt.
“Ok, uh, are you sure, because I honestly meant no disrespect or anything. I-,” you start, but Bucky cut you off quickly.
“Darlin’, what did I just say?” A stern tone coats his words and goddamn does it send a shiver down your spine. You internally roll your eyes and look away, back to your station, when you feel two warm fingers on your jaw, turning your head back to looks at him. Holy fuck. He places his thumb on the other side of your jaw, forcing you to keep looking at him as he leans in closer. His voice was low when he said, “That wasn’t a rhetorical question, Y/N, what did I just say?”
Jesus fucking wept. Somehow his use of your name made your heart pound, and the fact that his hand was so warm and strong holding onto your face.
“You said we’re all good..” you answer trailing off at the end of your sentence. His eyes don’t move from yours for a second.
“And?” He asks, tilting his head slightly.
Christ alive.
“I don’t have to apologise..” you say, eyes flicking between his and falling to his lips for a second and then back to his eyes.
“That’s right darlin’,” his eyes dropped to your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his lip. “So stop, okay?” He says, lifting your chin to catch your eye.
“Yes sir.” It’s an automatic response but you can’t help but be a little proud of yourself when he lets out a small throaty growl at the name.
“Careful doll.” He responds, letting go and leaning back, “How about we get started before I do something you regret, hmm?”
Like I could regret you.
You turn back to your station to try and clear your head of all the dirty thoughts running wild. “Ok.. Bucky, if you could roll up your sleeve so I can wipe the area, I’ll place the stencil and you can check if it’s where you want it to be.” You say, not used to the name he said to call him by.
“Mhm,” he hums, releasing the cuff link on his right sleeve, his prosthetic catching the glare of the light above, the plates shining. He places the cuff link in the pocket of his jacket and begins rolling up his sleeve and folds it at his elbow.
You clean the area and place the stencil straight on his arm, and peel it off.
“There’s a mirror on the wall over there, you can check if it’s alright.” You say.
“Okie dokie doll,” he responded the furrowed his brows, like he was confused at why he said that, not very gangster of him.
I like him. He says okie dokie.
“Looks good there darlin’, and as much as I hate to say it, we gotta speed this up a little, I’m expecting a call at some point around 2:30 and I’d prefer you not have to hear it.” He says, coming back to the table, sitting down and swinging his legs up onto it.
You take his arm, putting it on the rest in a position easiest for tattooing while saying “Why’s that? Would you have to kill me if I overheard your call?” You ask, enough humor in your voice for him to know you’re joking.
“Probably, depends how much you hear.” He said, completely deadpan. He looks at you and you have the strangest feeling that he actually wouldn’t hurt you either way.
“Shit ok. Is that position comfortable for you?”
“I’m all good darlin’, let’s go,” he says, adjusting his position on the table slightly. His left arm rests across his stomach as he sits on the table, leaning against the backrest, his ankles crossed.
“Ok I’m gonna do a small line so you know how it feels,” you look at him and he nods. You draw a line about 2 centimetres long then stop, “how’s that?” You ask.
“Ain’t nothin’ doll, keep goin’.” He responds.
“Ok here we go.” You say, getting back to it.
————
You’ve been tattooing for about 40 minutes, and there hasn’t been a word spoken between the both of you. His arm kept flexing whenever you moved away, and he kept clenching his jaw, like he was in pain but was refusing to admit it, even to himself.
“Are you ok? We can stop for five if you want a break? I’ve just finished the outline so I’ve got to change needles anyway.” You ask, disrupting the silence between you, moving the machine away from his arm so you can switch to a higher grouping for the blackwork.
“I’m fine Y/N, how much longer do you think it’ll take?” He asks, moving his head to look at the outline that you had completed.
“Oh it’s hard to say, but probably another 30 at least,” you respond, looking at him while he was admiring the tattoo so far.
God he’s pretty.
“Shit.” He says, rubbing his forehead with his other hand.
“Are you worried about your call?” You ask calmly.
“Not worried about the call itself… just having to do it here may cause some issues.” He responds, lowering his hand to his thigh.
“Because I’m here? I can go to a different room if you want?” You say, placing the machine back on your station, and turning to look at him fully.
“It’s ok doll, to be honest with you, nothing that needs to be said will make any sense to you anyway, and I mean that in the least offensive way possible.” He says, looking at you with apologetic face, tilting his head slightly. “But depending on the news I get, I wouldn’t want my reaction to… scare you.”
“Oh.. well I guess we’ll see when your call comes.” You answer, unsure of how to react to that.
————
The sharp ringing of his phone interrupts the sounds of the machine. You move the machine away from him, turning it off so he could speak freely without noise.
“I really am sorry about this darlin’, but it’s important-”
“Answer it then, it’s fine Bucky.” You cut him off, concerned he was going to miss it if he kept talking.
He gave you another apologetic look, and then turned his back to you to get off the table and answer the call.
You sat in silence as he started to speak.
“Rogers, what did ya find?” His voice changes from how he speaks to you, deeper and more serious.
The person on the other line speaks for a moment before Bucky responds, “we already knew that, didn’t we? What new information did you find?”
Silence.
“Of course he is..,” there is anger in his tone now, “get someone to tell the asshole he can threaten what he likes, I’m not sitting down with him.”
A moment goes by and you think that may have been the end of it, until you see his shoulders tense and-
“FUCK NO!” He shouts, making you jump a little.
“No Rumlow Gets Nothing, I don’t give a shit what he’s doing… Then send the commissioner a goddam gift basket Steve, some portraits of his family would be nice, remind him why he pays us the fucking protection fee.” He seethes at the man down the phone.
This should not be turning me on, shit.
“For fucks sake… Walker is nothing Steve, just some fucking Nazi junkie with a rich daddy, trying to get his hands on my shit…get Nat to bring his ass in, I’ll deal with it Steve… I said I’d deal with it.”
His tone on the last sentence sends a shiver down your spine, what the fuck does ‘deal with it’ mean?
“Ah shit is he ok?” Bucky asks, tone soft now, caring even, “Damn, he’s gonna be out for blood now.. good for him.. give Clint the week off, find the guys and give the pricks to him, let him get out some of his pent up craziness out.”
Oh Clint sounds fun.
“Ok, alright I gotta go now man. Yeah I’m at the shop… nah it’s nothing..yeah ya did… ok fuck off now.. later man.”
He hangs up the phone, takes a death breath and pinches the place between his eyebrows, his other hand going to his hip. He stands like that before he turns back to you, with a small awkward smile. That was cute.
“Sorry about that doll, hope I didn’t upset ya,” he says, walking around the table and looking down at you.
“You didn’t. I gotta ask though, is your friend or whoever ok?” You ask, not bringing up the start of the call where the man in-front of you all but admitted to a multitude of crimes - blackmail, extortion, supplying drugs. He sounded different- genuine when he asked if the man was ok. It was sweet.
“Clint? Yeah no he’s fine, got jumped last night so he’s pissed about it, but he’s ok, worst thing he got were some nasty bruises and a broken finger.” Bucky responds, confusion on his face, wondering why you care.
“How did he break a finger?” you ask, moving backwards as he sits back on the table.
“Oh he didn’t go down without a fight, clocked one of them on his way out,” he says with a small chuckle.
“Ah, good for crazy Clint,” you say with a smile.
Bucky let’s out a sharp quick laugh, “that exactly what I thought doll,” he says, leaning back and putting his arm on the rest, “ready when you are.” He adds.
Ok right back to it. Got it boss.
“Ok, should only be about 10 more minutes.” You say.
“Alright doll.” He answers, leaning his head back on the rest, tilting his head so he could watch you.
Ten minutes later you were finished, putting your machine down for the final time.
“Okie dokie, I’m all done. Have a look in the mirror, see what ya think,” you say, hoping he liked it, not much you could do about it if he didn’t.
He moves over to the mirror, checking out his new ink, twisting his arm around to see it fully. He’s silent for a little while before he says, “fuck doll, you’re a damn artist.”
“Does that mean you like it?” You ask, failing to hide the hope in your voice.
“I love it. Couldn’t have asked for a better one for my first piece.” He says, walking forwards to stand in-front of you, letting you wrap the fresh tattoo, handing him a leaflet on aftercare as you talk.
“You’re shitting me,” you say, “was that seriously your first one?”
“Yeah, why are you so surprised darlin?” He responds, tilting his head.
“I don’t know, just sorta thought you’d have them all over.” You answer.
“All over, huh. You been thinking about me naked doll?” He says with a cheeky grin, talking half a step closer to you.
Shit.
“What, n-no of course not, why would I do that. I mean I’m sure you look good - uh fine.. naked but I don’t-” you cut yourself off before you embarrass yourself anymore.
“No, no ramble on Y/N please, I’m really enjoying watching you try to figure your way out of the grave you’re digging right now,” he says, chucking lightly.
“Shut up Bucky, leave me alone” you responds, looking down at your feet.
“Hey,” he grabs your chin, again, and add pressure until you’re looking up at his eyes, “don’t ever try and tell me what to do, darlin, I don’t tend to respond well to it. I won’t ‘shut up’ and I’ll never ‘leave you alone’… I like ya too much for that.” He says, sounding like a mix between a threat and a compliment.
“Uh.. okay.” You answer, not sure how to respond to his words.
He can tell that you don’t know what to say, so he mercifully breaks the silence. “I love the tattoo doll, it’s looks amazing. You’ve got a talent Y/N.” He drops his hand from your chin as he speaks.
“Thank you, Bucky. It means a lot.” You answer sincerely.
“How much do I owe you sweetheart?” He asks, reaching into his jacket for his wallet.
That’s a new one.
“Uh, say $180?” You respond.
“$180? Damn you gotta charge more than that doll,” he says pulling some bills from his wallet.
He hands you the bills and says “now that’s for today and it should cover next time too, take half for now and half for then.”
You’re stunned by the fact that he’s already planning for next time but your jaw actually drops when you look at the bills.
They were hundreds.
“Woah I think you gave me the wrong bills,” you say, trying to push the bills back in his hands.
“No I didn’t, I know what I gave you. $180 for today, say $200 for next time and the rest is tip.” He answers smoothly, folding your hand back over the bills.
You look down to count and start shaking your head, “I can’t accept this, it’s way too much.”
“Consider it a thank you for dealing with the inconvenience of me having to do business in the middle of the appointment.” He says with a smile.
“Bucky this is 2000 dollars.”
“I know.” He puts up his hand again, stopping you from talking, “I’m not taking it back doll, just have it will ya?” He says, rolling his sleeve back down, doing the cuff back up with the cufflink and placing his jacket back on.
“Oh my god, you’re serious aren’t you?” You ask, unbelievable he wanted you to have over fifteen hundred dollars as tip.
“Yes I am.” He answers, straightening his jacket, “it also may be a small bribe.”
There it is.
“A bribe for what?” You ask, expecting his to ask you to keep quiet about his call.
“I want you to be my artist, anytime I want a tattoo, I want you doing it for me.” He says, smiling down at you with a hint of…something him his eye.
“Really?” You ask in shock, not expecting that from him.
“Yeah, like I said earlier, you got talent. I want more of you on me.” Bucky says smirking at the euphemism he made.
Fuck me running.
“Oh..shit.. yeah ok, that sounds..,” you swallow heavily, “sounds like a plan.” You smile up at him, trying to hide the way his words affected you.
He smiles back, stepping closer and closer until his chest is almost touching yours.
“Yes it’s does. You’re mine now doll,” he says, a dark look in his eye. You swallow hard again and your breath stutters at his words, eyes going straight to the floor. He notices your reaction and smirks, “my artist, I mean.” He continued.
“Although, judging by your little reaction there, I’d bet you be ok with that, wouldn’t you doll?” He says, his tone slightly mocking.
You say nothing.
He hums, then places his right hand on your cheek and tilts your head so you’re looking him in the eye again.
“Would you?” He asks softly.
“Maybe,” you whisper, a cocky smile breaking out on his face.
“Maybe, huh? ‘Mkay, guess I’ll just have to convince you then doll.” He says back, leaning closer, eyes going to your lips before he looks back up, giving you a chance to get out of the situation.
“Guess so.” You respond, some confidence back in your voice.
He hums again, and then he’s kissing you. His kiss is forceful but somehow still gentle, like he’s holding back as much as he can.
Fucking finally you can’t help but think as you move your hand to his wrist, the other one going to his left bicep, the feel of the solid metal under your hand was new, but not unwelcome.
His metal hand moves, wrapping around your back and pulling you against him, deepening the kiss when you gasp.
Reluctantly, you break the kiss when you run out of air. He leans back, the pressure on your back relieving a bit.
“Damn doll, what the fuck are you doing to me?” He asks, biting his bottom lip.
“Something good, hopefully.” You respond cheekily.
He groans, leaning his head back. “Yeah hopefully darlin’. I hate to say it sweetheart but I gotta get going.” He says, releasing his hold on you. He moves towards the door and for a second you think he going to leave without another word, until he turns back and says “I’ll talk to you later doll, keep your phone on or I’ll drop by.” He finished his sentence with a wink, and then he’s gone, the bell on the door ringing behind him.
Fuucckk. Maybe I’ll break my phone so he has to come by. Who knew the fucking Winter Soldier was actually a gorgeous softie under it all.
————
A/N: Ta da! Finally complete!! Love everyone of you that read this, mwah 😘
I can’t tag anyone else on this post so I will tag the rest in a separate post.
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@sleepyghostygirl @starlightaurorab @scrynexxtins @where-the-river-bends @imagines-of-the-fandom @bigenargy @uraverageatiny @squeezyvalkyrie @mylifeispainandiloveit @mrvlxgrl @bopbeepboopbopbeep @yvessaintmuerte @thecubanator2 @flubblubbb @teambarnes72 @ria132love @pingpongfingfong @cashhvi @rivthejellyfish @mybakubaby @blue-chup @goatsmcgee @facinated-lemon @daddylorianisastateofmind @buckybarnesb-tch @yeahimcrying @shifting2places @fand0mskullfa1ry @1-800-bxrnes @amiets2 @aliabhatt19 @leabunny @justmarlen3 @bofadeezs @jehduxi @grey107th @king-of-spades-aroace @sebismyhubby @princezzjasmine @sebastianstanswhore @cluckityduck @shuriri4life @calwitch @goodkittyspost @iateall-yourcookies @miss-i-ship-it @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @anawhitethorn @radiator-hands @tripletstephaniescp
#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky x you#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes x reader#marvel#marvel imagine#marvel imagines#mob!bucky#mob!au#tattoo artist!reader
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Good 4 U
Hello there!
I hope you’re all great. This story is just out of my imagination, but enjoy anyway, I guess ♥ Also Caitlin and Lia are always a thing in this word.
TW: Reader! Wälti, no other I think.
PART 2 | PART 3
______________________________________________________________
Unlike your older sister Lia, you are not wise and quiet. You have trouble concentrating and you aren't necessarily interested in the idea of landing somewhere. You and Lia don’t have the same character, but that never stopped you from loving each other a lot. You’d do anything for your older sister who’s only 10 months older than you. And you know she would do anything in return for you. You and her were almost like twins and even if you wasn't planned, you parents always loved you the way they love Lia.
You travel all the time, leaving one place when you're getting tired to visit another corner of the world. You are sociable and have no trouble making contacts with anyone, to find a job or to make new friends. You are lucky to be able to remember the different languages in the countries you visit. You speak German from birth, you are bilingual in English and you talk other new languages like spanish or italian.
For now, you are in London with your sister for a week. The last time you stayed in London with Lia was last year when her life was a little more complicated than now. This time, you decided to come to see her just because you missed her and wanted to be with her for her birthday. You contacted Leah to help you surprise her, and you congratulate yourself for filming Lia's reaction when you walked into her living room following Leah.
When Lia told you about a karaoke night with her friends, most of them from Arsenal, you didn't hesitate a single second before accepting. You already know Caitlin obviously and Leah, who you met when she came in Switzerland last year. You met some of the girls last time you came in London, but you don't know all of them. This is a good occasion to met them.
Despite the time set at 9pm, not everyone arrived on time but this didn't prevent the people already present from starting to have fun. You’ve already shared a song with Steph and another with Leah. And you’re choosing the song you’re going to sing with Lia when Katie finally makes her appearance in the establishment.
When the music started, Katie was greeting everyone and sat at one of the tables surrounded by a bench, reserved for the night.
She's sitting with Caitlin, Leah, Kyra and Alessia when her gaze mechanically refers to you when you start singing. And her gesture stops immediately when she looks at you, her arm halfway between her mouth and the table as she was getting ready to drink.
"You alright mate?" laughs Kyra
"Who’s the girl with Wally?" Katie asks, blinking.
"Her little sister. Why?" asks Leah, bowing her eyebrow.
But Katie doesn’t answer, completely hypnotized by you. She just can’t take her eyes off you, your face, your body and anything else that can be part of you.
"It's Wally’s sister?" ended up repeating Katie before glancing at Caitlin. "Damn, you’re shagging the wrong Wälti, Caitlin."
"You’re disgusting" Caitlin says, rolling her eyes.
Leah laughs softly next to Katie and the Irish girl seems to reminding something. She turns herself a little to look at Leah before talking.
"Wait, this is the sister you met last year?"
"Yes?" answer a frowning Leah.
"And you didn't try anything with her?"
Katie’s tone let perfectly passes the disbelief she feels at this idea. But Leah rolls her eyes again.
"She’s Lia’s little sister. She would have killed me. And she’ll kill you too if you try anything with her"
Katie responds with a throat sound before finally bringing her drink to her lips. And from then on, she won’t leave you until your song is finished. Katie recognized Olivia Rodrigo’s song "Good 4 u" and she briefly wonders if it means anything to you and Lia.
When the song ends, Lia approaches the table where Katie is installed while you take the opportunity to go to the toilet. If Caitlin greets your sister with a big smile, making her sit on her lap, Leah can’t help but drop the information to Lia.
"Your sister caught Katie’s eyes" Leah announces with a big smile.
This causes a growl from Katie who hoped to try a discreet approach with you and a frown from Lia, who quickly takes off from Caitlin to lean towards Katie.
"Stay away from her Katie, I’m not kidding"
Katie raises both hands as a sign of abandonment, not without rolling her eyes.
"Looks like I’m the devil in person" Katie growls before finishing her drink.
"She was hurt once and since then has been traveling around the world. I want to see her again before Christmas 2025."
"Okay, okay, I get it" sighs gently, Katie. "I’ll get myself a drink."
After asking if anyone wanted something, Katie gets up to order herself a drink, deciding to go to the other side to have less to wait. And Lia will not be able to tell her anything, because it's finally you who approaches her first. You come to order yourself a drink too and you have no trouble recognizing the teammate of your big sister, that you watch play as soon as you can.
"You're Katie, right? I'm Y/N, Lia's sister" you smile before reaching out to greet her.
"Yes, that's me. Nice to meet ya" Katie grins, taking your hand in hers, squeezing it maybe a little to long.
Your eyes cross and you find yourself becoming aware of the beauty of the young woman who stands before you. You first notice her blue eyes and then her smile that you quickly find mesmerizing.
You are interrupted in your moment by the server who finally takes your orders. And, while Katie passes her command, you discreetly let your gaze slide on her forms. How did you not realize before how breathtaking she was?
"Lia told me you travel a lot" Katie says, turning to you to resume your conversation.
"Oh, yes… I just came back from New Zealand" you explain with a smile, before starting on an explanation of your last trip.
The minutes pass quickly as you chat with her and then you find yourself interested in her and her life. There’s something about Katie that hypnotizes you and you could honestly spend hours listening to her and laughing at what she’s telling you. You like her humor, the sound of her voice and it’s a little destabilizing for you to find yourself so impacted by someone so quickly.
"Do you want to get some fresh air?" Katie says after realizing you’ve been talking for a while.
You accept with pleasure and you follow her on the outdoor terrace of the establishment, Katie seems to know this place very well. Which is probably not surprising since Lia told you they come often.
"Here" simply makes Katie by dropping her jacket on your bare arms after seeing you shiver.
"Thank you" you answer with a sincere smile.
You move a little away from the entrance to not be in the way and you lean against a wall looking up to look at the stars. However, you gently frown when you see that they are not visible. You forgot they’re hard to see from central London.
"When are you leaving again?" asks Katie while looking at you.
You leave the sky with your eyes to carry them over her before gently shrugging your shoulders with a smile.
"I haven’t decided yet. Why?"
"I was wondering if you would give me your phone number so we could meet again, before you leave."
You bite your lip briefly while observing her. You are not sure if it's a good idea, you will probably leave soon and you know that it would probably not lead to much. But you’d be lying if you said the Irish girl didn’t tease your curiosity.
"Okay" you end up answering before you pick up her phone and put your number on it.
A big smile is born on Katie’s face and you don’t know her enough yet to realize that it’s a frank smile and not the sufficient smile she likes to have to provoke her opponents. Her phone in her pocket, Katie settles next to you, leaning against the wall like you.
"Do you like to look at the stars?" asked Katie.
"It’s probably one of the things I prefer to do" you admit without hesitation. "But it’s difficult from here"
"I know a place where they can be seen. You want to go see?"
********
"I just ran into Katie running away with a pretty blonde" laughs Victoria who just arrived while sitting at Lia’s table.
"I’m going to kill her" the Swiss woman announces, noting that you have also disappeared.
Kyra’s sigh sound out at the same time as Leah’s facepalm. Caitlin masks her amused smile behind Lia’s head, but she is nevertheless surprised by Alessia who smiles back at her.
********
You suspect a little the annoyance that Lia must feel and you feel in spite of yourself a slight guilt at the idea of not enjoying her birthday party with her. But you take a look at Katie after you get out of her car and you quickly realize that she’s genuinely happy to show you this place.
"What’s your favorite constellation?" Katie asks you when you’re both sitting in the grass.
"Aquila" you answer by pointing to the place in the sky where it is. "And you?"
"I didn’t have one until now, but it could become my favorite" Katie replies with a smirk.
You laugh slowly and you turn your head in her direction, to see that Katie rolled to the side and that she’s looking at you. You feel yourself blushed and you’re pretty glad it’s dark and Katie can’t see it. But you don’t let her out of your sight and you decide to play her game.
"What is your astrological sign?" you ask.
"Virgo"
"Well maybe my favorite constellation is going to be Virgo then"
Katie laughs softlyand, taking a sudden aspiration, you gently take her hand in yours. Katie lets you and you find that her skin is pleasantly warm and soft against yours. You shift your attention to the sky above you, feeling Katie’s gaze stay on you. But it doesn’t bother you, it’s not the kind of heavy look that makes you uncomfortable. You feel good and safe with her, despite what Lia seems to think.
It’s almost two o'clock in the morning when Katie takes you home to your sister, whose keys you have so you can get in and out whenever you want.
"I hope I’m not interrupting a private celebration" you grin maliciously at Katie, who insisted on accompanying you to the front door.
"If there is going to be a celebration tonight it will probably be to celebrate my death" laughs Katie before explaining, when you turn an interrogative look in her direction "I was not supposed to approach you tonight. Lia has warned me"
"Why did you do it then?" you ask curiously while searching through your purse while looking at it.
"Technically, it was you who approached me" Katie replies with a satisfied smile. "But I’m very happy about it."
You smile back at her and you probably look at each other for a few seconds too long, before you come out of your trance and regain your self-confidence.
"I’ll defend your cause, if you want" you joke softly.
"See me again and it will have been well worth it."
You smile again and bite your lip briefly. You really want to kiss her, but maybe it’s too early for that. You step forward and put a kiss on her cheek instead before backing away again and opening the door.
"Go home safely"
"I will" answers Katie with a smile. "Good night"
"Sweet dreams"
The house is empty when you enter and you assume that either Lia is not back yet, or she went to Caitlin’s. You go undress and remove your makeup and it's when you are writing to your sister to inform her that you came home when you receive a message from an unknown number.
From Unknow
I came home safely. Sleep tight beautiful x
From You
Sleep well too. We talk soon x
********
Lia looked at you with skepticism when you told her that nothing happened with Katie, unless looking at the stars and learning to know her. Since her breakup, Katie had a lot of fling and Lia obviously didn't want you to fall for the Irish girl before being ignored by her.
Katie and you wrote to each others a lot during the past days and you find yourself smiling every time she texted you. When she asked you on a date, you accepted with a second thought.
Katie take you to an Irish restaurant, she looked almost outraged to learn that you have never been to Ireland during your many travels. You had a great evening and when she brought you back you vaguely hoped for a kiss but Katie just gently kissed your cheek before smiling with affection. She then waited until you go inside to leave. Then you started texting each other almost all the day, every day.
From Katie ✨
u going to the game today?
From You
I am :) why?
From Katie ✨
Would you let me take you for a brunch before ?
From You
I would love to
From Katie ✨
Great. I'm taking you at 10 xx
You almost turned the cupboard in which you installed your clothes in your sister’s guest room to find a proper outfit. You ended up opting for a simple outfit, comfortable but nevertheless different from what you can wear every day. Once ready, you go to the kitchen, in which you find only Catlin in the company of her cup of coffee and a toast with…
"Vegemite?" you ask with a smirk
"Lia always has a jar for me in her cupboards" replies the Australian with amusement.
"How romantic" you laugh softly
You take a glass of water, realizing rather quickly that Caitlin observes you over the cup of coffee that she holds with two hands. Since she and Lia got together, the Australian has taken on the role of your big sister too. You obviously can’t compare the connection you have with her with the one you have with Lia, but you appreciate her enormously.
"Are you going out?"
"Yes" you just answer
"With Katie?"
You don't have time to respond with the positive or negative that Lia’s voice is heard behind you. Obviously she must appear when the name of the Irish is pronounced.
"What, Katie?" Lia asks, bowing her eyebrow.
"I'm going to a brunch with her" you explain softly with a sigh. "Look, don’t make that face, I know you don’t want anything but to protect me, but if it makes you happy… Nothing ever happened between us, if it turns out she’s not even interested in anything but friendship with me"
You gently shrug your shoulders and carefully avoid Lia’s gaze. You don’t necessarily want your older sister to see how depressed you are about this idea. But it's Caitlin who speaks again, although she's peacefully returned to reading her diary.
"Or she takes the time to do things right with you because you mean something to her" she points out without looking at you.
You frown thoughtfully at her, but Caitlin doesn’t add anything. Lia gets closer to you though, gently laying her hand on yours.
"What would make me happy is that you are too. I just want you to be happy and make sure no one can hurt you any more."
"I’ll be fine, Lia, I promise" you assure her with a little smile. "I learned from my mistakes"
Lia pout a little and when your phone vibrates in your pocket when Katie writes to you that she has arrived and that she waits for you, you take your big sister in your arms.
"I love you" you say before you kiss her cheek.
"I love you too. See you at the game?"
With a smile you nod before leaving the house. Your smile widens when you see Katie waiting for you, leaning against the front of her car.
"You look stunning" Katie smiles looking at your outfit.
"You’re not bad yourself"
Katie is dressed in her training kit, ready for the game and you find it strangely sexy. Unlike other times you have seen her, you don't hesitate to greet her with a hug and then let her take you by the hand to train you to the passenger door of the car.
The establishment that Katie has chosen is between Lia’s house and the stadium, the Irish girl explaining to you that it's a place that she loves and that has the advantage of not being too well known by the general public. It seems to have its habits and even if you don't necessarily appreciate the big smile with which the waitress welcomes Katie, you are quickly satisfied by the hand that she puts in your back to guide you to her usual table.
As always, the discussion is pleasant. You have to admit you did some research on Katie, but you feel like the Katie that people can see on the football field is different from the one you see every day. The Katie you know is sweet, attentive, considerate and charming. You have the impression that she really listens to you and that she seems particularly interested in what you tell her, no matter what it is.
And the butterflies that you have in the hollow of your belly when her fingers touch your hand while taking the salt are rather very pleasant. However, you regret not knowing if things are really shared or if Katie is only interested in friendship with you.
"Can I ask you a question?" asks Katie, her blue eyes watching you attentively over her cup of tea.
"Of course" you answer with a little smile.
"When she asked me not to come near you, Lia mentioned a romantic relationship that ended badly. I’m not asking you to tell me everything, but if you have any residual trauma or like that…"
Of course Lia mentioned your old relationship with Katie. On the other hand, you can’t blame her, after learning about the various deceptions of your ex-girlfriend, it was so painful that you never set foot in Switzerland again and you never saw your family again for a year. It apparently left your sister with trauma as well.
"As long as you don’t lie to me or hide things from me, it should be okay" you mumble and shrug.
Katie looks funny and you briefly get lost in your thoughts until the Irish woman gently takes your hand in hers. When you look up at her, she smiles softly at you, her eyes immensely sweet.
"No matter what happens, I will never. I promise"
You smile softly at her, losing yourself in her eyes. Katie changes the subject and when it’s time to leave for the stadium, you have the impression that the time has passed much too quickly.
"Do you mind if someone sees you get out of my car? There are often fans waiting for us in the parking lot, they cannot access it but they wait behind the gates. I can drop you off if you want" Katie asks when you’re about to arrive.
"I don’t care" you assure her by tapping on her arm.
You didn’t expect her to grab your hand with hers to interlace your fingers, but this gesture is rather pleasant.
Katie was right, you barely got out of the car when you heard some people calling her name. The young woman having advised you not to pay attention to it, you follow her inside the corridors in the colors of Arsenal without turning once your glance towards the fans.
"Shall I leave you there?" asks Katie once right outside the door that’s supposed to take you to the VIP corner, where Lia booked you a seat.
You nod with a slight smile. You know the way now.
"Thanks for the invitation. I had a great time"
"So do I" Katie says, smiling as well. "You still don’t know when you’re leaving, right?"
"Maybe soon. I don’t know yet"
You gently shrug your shoulders, but you don’t miss the disappointment that briefly passes over Katie’s face after her smile drop.
"Oh… okay. Well, I’ll see you soon, I guess?"
"Yeah" you smile softly.
Katie gives you a little smile, but it’s only when she turns her heels in the direction of the changing rooms that you walk forward two steps and you take the floor again.
"Katie?"
"Yes?"
The Irish girl turns and looks at you with surprise. She apparently did not expect you to hold her back.
"You want to know what it depends on?"
"Yes" she says again, looking at you carefully.
You made other steps to catch up to her and to be at her height but you mechanically bite your lip, a little anxious about your courage and its repercussions. But now is not the time to back down. Katie seems to have quickly noticed your nervousness since she is also moving in your direction of a step, offering you a reassuring smile.
"You"
"Me?"
"Yes, I… I like you, I mean not necessarily only physically. And I really like the moments we spend together, but I don’t know if it’s mutual or if I’m making ideas. And I’m a little afraid that after talking to you about it now it changes or complicates things, but-"
Katie ends up interrupting you, putting her finger on your lips to silence you. You don’t know if it’s a good thing or not and you freeze instantly.
"I like you too, I thought it was obvious. I’m sorry if I let you think otherwise. My love life may not have been the most stable in a few months, but with you it’s different."
You don’t have time to answer anything that Leah Williamson appears around the corner to call Katie. Training will begin soon.
"I have to go. I’ll see you later?"
You nod with a smile. Katie looks at you for a few more seconds smiling before heading to where Leah disappeared a few seconds ago.
"Katie?" You call her again though. "You forgot something"
Gently frowning, Katie turns in your direction, no doubt to see you so close to her, always smiling. She has no time to question you, since you come forward until you can put your lips on hers. It’s just a light kiss, but the sensations are amazing.
When you open your eyes again, Katie’s are dipping into yours and you have to take it on yourself so you don’t pass out. If you listened to yourself, you would do it again, but you don’t want to cross the line. That said, given her smile, she doesn’t seem to be against that kiss.
"Now you can go" you smile maliciously.
But Katie shakes her head with her big smile still displayed on her face. Taking advantage of your proximity, Katie gently puts her hand on your neck before drawing your face once again against hers. This kiss is longer than the first and your hands naturally find place on Katie’s body.
When Katie gently caresses your lower lip with her tongue, asking for access to yours, you do not hesitate a single second before leaving it to her. Obviously, you forget a little where you are and that everyone could surprise you. It is finally a door noise far away from you that brings you back to reality, a few minutes later.
"I really have to go" whispers Katie, her lips caressing yours when she speaks.
And it makes you half lose your mind. So you can’t resist the urge to kiss her again and it takes all your strength to tear you away from her. And let her go.
"Come on, go make the rest of the world enjoy your talent" you smile softly
Katie laughs but steals one last kiss before leaving. It’s in a second state that you join your seat, but when Katie appears on the field alongside the other players, you can’t help but smile again. Katie quickly spots you in the stands and sends you a wink to which you respond with a smile.
In the end, it’s not as safe as this that you’ll leave London.
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hi girl! i’m so glad ur trying to get back to writing bc all ur works are so good! for the character/trope thing, can i choose canon cregan w targ!reader with the trope grumpy x sunshine? with the reader being sunshine! can’t wait to see what u come up w! i missed u!
thank you for your sweet words my love! i really, really appreciate it😭🤍 i tried my best, and though you asked for targ!reader, i did not write any physical description for reader... hope that's okay!🤍
tags — fluff, grumpy x sunshine trope
“You'll age sooner if you're always mad, my love.”
The sweetness of your voice was all he needed to hear to relax his shoulder and posture, shifting from one serious semblance to a softer one. Once your hands reached his shoulders, he even let out a sigh, closing his eyes in the instant your perfume reached his nose. He breathed in, almost humming in delight thanks to your mere presence. “I am not mad,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer enough to hide his face on the crock of your neck. “Not anymore at least…”
“Not anymore?” you softly giggled, your hands immediate going towards his hair, tangling your cold fingers with his deep brown locks. “Was the meeting with Lord Mormont too stressful for you?” You grabbed his cheeks after he refused to answer the question, forcing him to open his eyes to stare at you. Cregan tilted his head, groaning, and you couldn't help but smile at his expression. “Look at you! You're frowning already!” You brought your index finger towards the space between his eyebrow, circling the spot until he relaxed his muscles again. He sighed.
“Stop it,” Cregan muttered. “I do not wish to talk about it today.”
“Alright, then we shall not talk about it…” Cregan whispered a small thank you, his eyes getting heavy thanks to the exhaustion of such a busy day. He leaned forward, wanting to go back to bury his face on your neck, yet you stopped him. The Warden of the North moaned loudly as a complaint. “I cannot believe it… you've barely seen me today and you still haven't kissed me yet!” Cregan pressed his lips, holding back a groan. Then, he grabbed the back of your head, pulling you towards him and trapping your lips in a slow, tempting kiss that took your breath away.
Such a gesture was only stopped after a few seconds, when the both of you were breathless with swollen lips. A silly smile appeared on your face, which was contagious enough to make him smile too. You sighed, delighted with the sight of your husband in front of you. “Mhm… there it is,” you softly murmured, standing on your tiptoes to brush your nose against his. “That beautiful smile. You should wear it more often.”
“Don’t be greedy,” he said. “You've become spoiled.”
“You love me just like that,” you shrugged.
Cregan let out a breathy laugh, kissing the corners of your lips and wrapping you in his arms. “I love you just like that,” he agreed, smiling like a fool.
follow @by-fairysluna for updates!
GENERAL TAG LIST — @islandfantasydream @arcielee @bucknastysbabe @zaldritzosrose @rafeism @valeskafics
CREGAN TAG LIST — @purplequxxn @iloveharbingers @jeongiegram @koobratzy @foxyanon
BOLD MEANS I COULDN'T TAG YOU.
#cregan stark#cregan stark imagine#cregan stark x reader#cregan stark x y/n#cregan stark x you#hotd#house of the dragon
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♡ how you get the girl | quinn hughes
quinn hughes x fem!reader
summary: after you walk out on quinn, he realizes he made the biggest mistake of his life, leading him to your doorstep. wet, soppy, and begging for forgiveness.
warning(s): cursing, kissing and grinding and stuff leading to sex but no actual sex described??? idk it just gets heated, angst but there is a happy ending!!!! <33333
author's note 💌: i love writing for quinn. he's my fave. anyways, i got a request to do a part two to the "you're losing me" imagine so! hope u enjoy!
read part one here !!
YOU LEFT HIM. And for a moment, the longest moment of his life, it felt like Quinn’s heart stopped beating. It felt like a wake-up call.
Ever since becoming captain, his focus shifted. His eyes grew tired, waking up before you had the chance to pepper him with kisses in the morning. His arms felt sluggish, coming home later and later, trying to perfect his performance, trying to be a good captain for the team, trying to be the person they needed after a terrible, horrific season. He was trying so hard to be what they needed that he forgot about the most important person in his life, and what she needed.
The second you walked out the door, he knew he fucked up. He knew he should’ve called out for you, or kissed you before you had the chance to break up with him and end it all, or promise to be there, to be what you needed. But that argument—it felt like the end. He hadn't lost you in that moment; you had been slipping away for much longer.
“Hey, where’s Y/N going?” Brock drunkenly draped his arm over Quinn’s shoulder, watching him watch the door like you were going to come back and rush into his arms, saying that it was all a huge mistake; that you didn’t mean what you said; that you didn’t care that Quinn had made no time for you in the months he became captain. But that’s not who you are. When you say something, you mean it.
“I fucked up,” he whispered, like he didn’t want to believe that it was true.
Brock’s brows raised, his words a bit slurred but still comprehensive. He pouted. “What did Captain Huggy do now?”
“She asked me if I wanted to marry her.”
Brock released a breath as if gaining his sobriety. “Oh shit. What’d you say?”
Quinn gulped, not believing the words he was gonna say. Of course he wanted to marry you. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He would give up anything to be with you, even hockey. And he should’ve said it, he knows he should’ve said it. But would you even believe him if he did? He hasn’t spent a waking minute with you for the past three months. You don’t do that to someone you love. “I said no.”
“What did you want to say?”
Quinn didn’t even hesitate. He didn’t have to think about his answer. “That I would marry her in a heartbeat. That I fucked up and I don’t even know how to fix it.” That when he’s asleep, you’re the only thing he sees in his dreams; that when he’s at practice, and he sees his teammates with their wives and kids, he wonders what it would be like for you to be there, your child on your lap, cheering him on from the stands; that he knows he’s been neglecting you, but he just felt like you would always be there, even if he stopped paying attention.
“So what’re you gonna do?”
Walking back into the party, Quinn scrambled to find his car keys, ignoring the questions of where he’s going and if he’ll return because, for once, he didn’t care about what they thought about him. All he thought about was making it up to you and getting you back.
After fifteen of the longest minutes of his life, he finally made it to your apartment. He knew you would be here instead of his, but it broke his heart nonetheless. You always said that you hated being here. It felt cold and lonely in contrast to Quinn’s, but after these past couple months, neither apartment felt like home.
It was raining outside as he paced outside your apartment complex, trying to come up with the right words, not wanting to say something that’ll upset you further. His suit was wet, his hair shaggy, and his new white socks a squishy mess. You deserved more than him, he thought. You deserved so much better. Someone that would actually be there for you and love you and take care of you. That wasn’t Quinn; it was never going to be Quinn, but the least he could do was try.
Knocking on your door, Quinn shook from the rain, and maybe also from a little bit of fear. As terrible as it sounds, he knew you still loved him, but he was worried that that part of your heart was growing smaller and smaller by the second.
Opening your door, you saw the wet mop on his head and his flustery red cheeks. He was standing in a puddle of rainwater and his hands were trembling. You wanted to hold them, give him a mug of hot chocolate, and warm him up. Swaddle him in a fuzzy blanket, cuddle him, and never let go, but you were also pissed as hell. Why was he standing here? Did he want to rub it in some more? That the only guy you’ve ever truly loved, that you ever actually considered marrying, doesn’t want you? That’s just messed up.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, anger still laced in your tone. But you felt like your heart was stuck in your throat. You wanted to push it down, but the longer you looked at Quinn and his sad stupid eyes, you resisted it a little less.
“I was afraid,” he muttered, a little less than a whisper.
You rolled your eyes. You’ve been together for years, and he was afraid to tell you he loves you? That he sees a future with you? That he could maybe possibly want to marry you?
Not wanting to hear his excuses, you held your hand on the wood, attempting to close the door as he held it open, a plea in his eyes—please hear me out. “I was afraid that I wouldn’t be what you needed. You shouldn’t marry me. You deserve so much more than me, Y/N.”
You scoffed. “And that’s supposed to be your decision? I get to decide who and what I deserve, not you.” Tearing your eyes from him, Quinn felt his heart plummeting even faster. He can’t lose you. “You know, maybe you were right, Quinn. Maybe we don’t have a future together.”
Was he dying? Was Quinn dying? Is this what death felt like? He felt like he was dying. Everything was going wrong. He was wet, you two weren’t back together yet, and somehow you are even more mad at him than before he came.
Just be honest, his mind screamed.
“I thought that I needed to be what everyone else needed,” he said, staring at the puddle of rain he tracked in. “I needed to be a good captain, I needed to be a good player for the fans and for the organization, I needed to be good for my family, but I forgot about you and what you needed.”
“You don’t need to be on for me, Quinn!” you shouted, not caring for your neighbors that could probably hear from down the hall or the people walking past your guys’ melodramatic scene. “If you just told me how you felt, I would’ve been there! I would’ve been there for you!” your eyes were stinging, sparkling with unshed tears. “But you pushed me aside like I was nothing.”
“Y/N-”
“No, no.” You shook your head. “I think you should go-”
“I’ve thought about marrying you since the moment I met you. Since the moment you met my family and you couldn’t care less that Jack had no idea what personal space was, and that Luke was in love with you so he always asked to sit next to you at dinner. And how invasive my parents were and my grandma giving you those crazy ten-minute-long hugs and always asking you when you were going to give her grandchildren. I’ve thought about marrying you since our first date when I got whipped cream on my nose from the funnel cake we shared and you licked it off even though it was our first date, and I thought ‘this girl is crazy and I think I’m in love with her.’ I’ve thought about marrying you every time we went to a wedding together, not even caring about the actual ceremony because I was imaging it was you and I walking down that aisle and you would start crying during your vows but you’d somehow also sneak in some sort of joke about me balding soon that would get everyone laughing and I would somehow fall more and more in love with you than I was before.
Quinn walked closer, you let him. “Believe me, I want to marry you, Y/N. I would do it right now if I could.”
“So why-”
“I saw you pulling away. I knew I was losing you. I knew that hockey and my life and everything going on right now was hard, and I didn’t want you to be stuck with it if we got married. I didn’t want you to feel like you were stuck with me.”
You breathed out shakily, not expecting…any of that. “I don’t care if you go on roadies every other week, bring me with you. I don’t care if you have a bruised eye or a missing tooth, I’ll be there with an ice pack. If you have to practice from 5 in the morning to 5 in the afternoon, wake me up and I’ll be there with snacks! If the Canucks tank this entire season or they win every single game, I’ll still be here. I don’t care about any of it," you shook your head. "I only care about you.
You held his wet cheeks, his eyes closing against your warm palms. “I’m not stuck with you,” you whispered against his lips. Planting a soft kiss, you felt him chasing your lips as you pulled back. “I want to be with you forever. But what do you want?”
For the first time in his life, he didn’t have to think. “I want you, Y/N. I want to marry you, and grow old with you, and do everything with you. I just- I want you.”
Standing on your toes, you pulled Quinn into a kiss, his lips quickly closing the distance. He melted into your body, his hands finding themselves underneath the fabric of your shirt, wrapping his arms around your torso as if you were going to dissipate into a clear mist.
As you backed into the apartment, Quinn kicked the door shut, sealing the world outside. With the living room dimly lit, you found yourselves on the couch, pulled gently onto his lap, his hands exploring the curves of your body. “I love you,” he whispered, wanting to get closer, closer, so much closer.
Meeting his urgency, you grinded against his hard-on, licking his lips. “Yeah?”
He nodded profusely, already imagining you back at his apartment, where you were meant to be, in his bed, in his shirt, moaning his name. “Yeah.”
You smirked, lifting your shirt over your head, your lacy red bra being on full display. Quinn's eyes drank in the sight, his desire palpable in the air. “Show me how much.”
Quinn wasted no time, his hands finding the clasp of your bra, skillfully releasing the constraints. As the fabric fell away, his hands traced the contours of your skin, a silent vow to explore every inch. To kiss each mole and each dimple, and thank whatever godly entity led you to him.
"Wanna marry you," he moaned into your lips.
"You obsessed with me or something?" you smirked, giggling as he lifted you from the couch, carrying you to your bedroom.
"Something like that."
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RUMORS - ( c.s )
REQUESTED**
summary: you and chris have known each other for a long time, and you’ve always had an inescapable crush on him. when you all go to tara’s party and fans see them together for the first time, speculation begins to circulate, and you begin to pull away in fear that he likes her as more than a friend
warnings: angsty in the beginning, fluffy in the end :) some swearing a kiss and that’s it really
bff!chris x fem!reader
a/n: i loved this concept and i hope i brought it to life well for the anon that requested <3 my inbox is always open for u guys #kisses
@fawnchives @l9vesick @mattinside @sturnioloco @sturniolossss @cupidsword @teapartyprincess4two @princessbetsy123-blog @cookiehaos @sturnlova @junnniiieee07 @vsangel-starbies @chrissystur
doom scrolling online is like a car crash that you can’t look away from; especially when it involves your friend and your long term crush. you’ve been laying in bed scouring the internet for the past hour, pouring over comments about and tara and chris.
ever since her last party, when fans actually saw them publicly interacting for the first time, the gossip has gotten out of control. people want them together, and you hate to admit that it makes you sick to your stomach.
hell, you’d been the one to introduce them, since tara had become your friend first. but you and chris go all the way back to childhood; you were best friends with him and his brothers in your early years of school, and then you moved to another town after your dad accepted a new position.
you kept in touch through social media and occasional texts after that, until you all found yourselves in LA fresh out of high school, alone in an unfamiliar city across the country.
their youtube channel had taken off, and you’d gained a large following after you’d finally been recognized for your photography due to some big-name collabs. you were all in the same vulnerable position, and because of this your friendship with the three of them started right back up where it left off.
the rest is history. it’s been two years now, and you’ve all grown exponentially, fully adjusted to LA and the recognition, comfortable with where you are in your lives professionally and personally.
you spend nearly every week with the triplets, doing anything and everything together. they’ve made the occasional homesickness bearable, been your rock through the hard times, and supported you like no one else.
but things are a little different with you and chris. he’s your best friend, the person you want to tell everything to first. it’s always been that way, really. you had feelings for him at 13, and now at 20 years old you love him even more.
but that doesn’t mean you have to love him being shipped with every female influencer on the planet.
it’s selfish, really, to want chris to yourself, considering his occupation and the fame that comes with it. tara is a good person and an even better friend, and you shouldn’t be angry over the idea of them dating.
still, it’s been consuming your mind ever since you saw the first post about the two of them a few days ago, and you’ve been checking social media every hour since.
you’re about to read through yet another comment section when your phone buzzes, a notification appearing at the top of the screen.
chris
can you pls answer me
i don’t like this silent treatment thing
your stomach flips. he’s been texting you things like this for the past few days, since you started distancing yourself after the party.
the whole night he had acted as if he was into tara; always making conversation, asking to dance, posting her on his story. even when you were right next to him, it still felt like he was miles away.
so of course it’s been upsetting you, and you figured rather than taking it out on either of them you would just remove yourself from the situation.
it seemed like the best option in the moment, but it still sucks. you hate not talking to him, not seeing his face or feeling his arms wrap around you in a familiar hug.
another text pings, snapping you out of your spiral once more.
chris
i don’t know what’s wrong but you’re scaring me
the message makes your eyes burn, and you blink away the tears. you don’t want him worrying about you, especially when it’s your own stupid feelings getting in the way of things being normal.
you sigh, tapping out a response and staring at it, debating back and forth whether you should actually press send. but he beats you to a response, and another string of texts come through.
chris
i can see you typing
i’m coming over
y/n
no don’t do that, everything is fine
chris
i don’t believe you
and i already left my house
it’s only a five minute walk to get from his place to yours, and you know he’s too stubborn to actually turn around, no matter how hard you plead. you’ve already broken out into a nervous sweat just thinking about the confrontation.
but at this point you owe it to him and yourself to be honest. you just hope you don’t get your heart broken in the process.
y/n
fine, doors unlocked
i’m in my room
a few minutes later you hear the front door slam open and closed, just to see chris peek his head around the corner of your room moments later. you’re still curled up in bed, too scared and tired to move, so he takes the liberty of coming to you.
“hey.” he says softly as he sits down.
“hi.” you mumble, wrapping your blanket against your chest tighter.
it’s not cold, but you’re so anxious that you’re shivering. chris notices and puts a hand on your covered knee, rubbing small circles against the joint. he looks so sweet, clad in his blue fresh love hoodie with his hair all curly from showering.
“what’s up? i haven’t heard from you all week, and nick was about ready to call the cops.” he tries to joke with a small grin.
you can’t bring yourself to match his energy, and your face remains grave as you attempt to swallow the lump in your throat.
“i’m alright, just tired.”
his face falls, and a slight frown replaces his smile. you know he’s not believing any of it for a second, and you’ve never been a very convincing liar.
“don’t do that, you’re obviously not alright. and i’m not trying to be pushy or anything, but i feel like you’re shutting me out.” chris replies quietly.
you shift a little bit so you can sit up properly, back resting against the headboard as you gaze at him. his hand remains on your thigh, a source of comfort while you try to pick your words wisely.
“i’m not trying to push you away, chris. i just…wanted to give you space.” you continue to dance around the truth.
he looks even more confused, eyebrows furrowed like you’re speaking another language. “that’s nice and all, but i don’t want it.”
“well maybe i do.” you shrug.
you’re lying through your teeth, but chris’s eyes go wide regardless. you’ve shocked him into silence, which rarely ever happens. he’s just staring at you, the gears in his mind turning as he tries to figure out what could possibly be wrong.
“are you serious? did i do something that i don’t know about?” chris asks, clearly exasperated.
he removes his hand from your leg, dropping it back in his lap. the small act alone makes your heart sink, and you feel the question crawling its way out of your mouth before you can help it.
“do you like tara?”
it hangs in the air, and you’ve stumped him once again. chris shakes his head, clearing his throat while his face reddens slightly.
“i can’t believe you’re even asking me that.” he sounds genuinely astonished.
“what? why?” it’s your turn to be baffled.
“because i feel like all i ever do is flirt with you. i mean seriously, it’s embarrassing for me at this point.” chris reaches to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly.
your jaw drops, which makes you feel silly. throughout this whole relationship you felt like you were the one putting the moves on him, doing too much. you’d never once stopped to think about all of the little comments he would make.
“i, uh, guess i didn’t pick up on that.” you manage to reply.
you immediately wish you hadn’t, that you just kept your mouth shut. but he smiles widely at you, chuckling lightly.
“no shit.”
this makes you laugh too, and it feels good to experience at least a brief moment of normality between the two of you. things have felt tense for so long that you’d almost forgotten why you love being around chris in the first place.
you wait to calm down a bit before you decide to finally lay it all on the table. “i like you a lot, chris. and i don’t want to mess up the dynamic we have, because you mean the world to me. but i’d be lying to myself if i said i didn’t want to be with you.”
he’s still grinning, though you can tell he’s gone a little shy now hearing you admit your feelings. this moment is all he dreamed about for so long, and now it’s finally happening in a realm outside of his own brain.
“i want that too, and i’m a dumbass for taking this long to say it. so no, i’m not interested in tara like that. it’s always been you.” chris confesses, reaching to interlock your fingers.
you’ve held hands before on many occasions, but it’s different now in the best way. butterflies erupt in your stomach as he leans in, and you can smell the fading hints of minty body wash on his skin.
you tilt your head so your mouths finally meet, soft and slow as you both finally enjoy the kiss you’ve been yearning for for so long. he tastes sugary, like the lollipops he’s always got between his teeth, and you’re already addicted.
chris pulls away a minute later, his lips reddened and glistening from the contact. you giggle slightly from the unfamiliarity of the situation, glancing down at your linked hands.
“your lips are so soft.” he praises, still awestruck that he finally got to kiss the girl he’s loved since he was a preteen.
“take a girl out to dinner first, jeez.” you joke playfully.
chris rolls his eyes, but he smiles nonetheless. “i think i will, actually. you got any plans tomorrow?”
you tap your chin with your free hand like you’re contemplating your schedule. “i can probably squeeze you in.”
“you better. everyone else can get in line.”
#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo fluff#sturniolo fluff#sturniolo#sturniolo x reader
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𐦍༘?can i 𐦍༘⋆
↬ choi seungcheol
𓇣 pairing- nonidol!cheol x fem reader, dom!seungcheol x sub!reader, bestfriend!cheol x fem reader, friends to lovers<3
𓇣 summary- your best friend calls you late at night for something other than a innocent hangout.
𓇣 warnings- dumb confessing love to each other, oral sex (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, cum swallowing, kissing, MDNI, lmk what else
𓇣 a/n- this is just a random fic that u wrote a long time ago.. i liked it enough to post so lmk what you think!! should i write a part two? ALSO IM BACK FROM LITERALLY NOT POSTING FOR DAYS!!!! im posting a lot of fics today<3 luv u guys 😡
tossing and turning in your bed has gotten you wide awake. you’ve been trying to fall asleep for the past hour. it now being 1:30am as glance at your clock.
you sigh closing your eyes again before you start to get a call. you groan reaching for your phone. seeing it’s seungcheol you make a confused expression, pressung answer.
“cheol? it’s so late what’s up?” you question and he just sighs. “okay- um this is gonna sound crazy but can i pick you up? i’ve been thinking you all night.” he confesses. his voice sounding tense but lust filled.
“thinking about me? what do you mean?” you are beyond confused now, wanting him to explain it. of course cheol has said something like this to you before, but this time it feels different.
“just let me come get you and i’ll explain then. can i?” he asks. you don’t even know why but your mouth is immediately saying that you would love for him to pick you up.
you having no control when it comes to cheol. you sigh again as you force yourself out of the warmth of your bed to grab some pants to throw on.
quickly changing as you know cheol, how fast he would get to your house. speaking of, your phone lights up with a text from the boy telling you he’s outside. you slip on your slippers and head out of your house into his car.
“well good morning to you.” you say sarcastically as you get into the passenger seat. “can i just drive and explain? it’s kind of a lot to take in.” he starts to drive to your guys usual spot to watch the sunset. you couldn’t do that now obviously…
“so.. were you asleep when i called?” “no unfortunately i haven’t been sleeping very well and these were one of the completely sleepless nights.” he sighs not taking his eyes of the road.
“i’m sorry i hope you can sleep better tomorrow.” he says looking at you for a moment to give you a soft smile before finally arriving at your spot.
“are you gonna tell me why you wanted to pick me up at 2 in the morning?” you turn your gaze to him and he just nods. “don’t freak out okay-“ he cuts himself off.
“y/n- i’m in love with you. and everyday i’m more and more in love with you. i couldn’t get confessing to you off my mind. i wanted you to know in person.” he says looking at you for a reaction, response, anything.
“cheol i-“ he sighs thinking he already knows what you’re gonna say. “i know you don’t feel the same. i had a feeling you didn’t but i just need to tell you okay? it was killing me and i just don’t want anything to be weird now-“ you stop his words with your finger.
“cheol shut up. i’m in love with you too.” you confess as well catching him completely off guard. “wait are you serious? don’t mess with me that’s not funn-“ you cut him with a kiss against his lips.
“you believe me now?” he nods pulling you to kiss him again. “you don’t know how bad i wanted to do that.” he admits with a deep sigh.
“cheol-you know-i- me too.” his hands intertwined with yours. you feel so safe with him. you want nothing more than to be his. you want him to be yours.
“y/n i- please let me kiss you again.” and that’s how you ended up here. on your knees in the backseat next to your best friend, reaching for his dick as he fucks his fingers into you.
“cheol-“ he smirks down at you. “feel good baby? keep going.” you nod at his words finally pulling his dick out of his pants. shocked at the size of course. you have never been with anyone with a dick this big- nearly coming on his fingers.
“go ahead, let me see you baby.” he’s looking down at you with intimidating eyes. you give his dick a couple strokes causing him to hiss but mindlessly ruts his hips up with your hand.
you kitten lick the tip of his dick not breaking eye contact with him. a load groan erupting from him. his fingers are starting to fuck into you faster. your moans against him making him crazy.
“fuck just like- that. feels so fucking good.” his hips moving with your mouth as you fuck yourself back onto his fingers.
“look at you. o-oh fuck” your mouth speeding up on his cock. his fingers curling inside of you causing you to moan. you gag on his dick as his hips start to meet your mouth.
you cum on his fingers hard as you feel him start to fuck your mouth. he fucks his fingers into slowly before pulling them out to bring them up to his mouth.
he hums before groaning when he sees you looking up at him. he pulls his fingers out his mouth, his hand inching to your ass rather quickly.
“i’m gonna- fuck i’m coming. you’re so beautiful.” his cum shooting deep into your mouth as his hips fuck up with his groans.
you keep eye contact with him as you swallow. he groans trying not to fuck your mouth again. you sit up to kiss him.
“you’re so pretty.” he gives you a big smile as the two of you get dressed. you blush and look away from him. “want to come to my house?” he smiles at you.
#choi seungcheol#seungcheol x reader#Spotify#seventeen#svt#svt fanfic#svt smut#svt imagines#cheol#seventeen seungcheol#seungcheol fluff#seungcheol smut#seungcheol imagines#seungcheol scenarios#seungcheol fanfic#seungcheol x you#seventeen smut#seventeen fanfic#svt x reader#svt fic
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FORGIVE ME, BABY ᡣ𐭩 eren yeager x reader
synopsis: u find out ur fwb has been fucking other girls on the low and u hate being one of his options, so he comes over to “apologize” to you
warnings: kissessss, pussy eating, fingering, orgasm denial, choking, pet names (baby, my love, princess), eren is just a lil mean n nonchalant 😠, reader is kinda possessive hehe 🎀, reader and eren r both in their 3rd year of college, once again written with a black women in mind but anyone can read
wc: 1.4k
a/n: here’s another fic that has been collecting dust in my notes for a hot minute. i hope yall enjoy 💋
you’re chilling on your bed, scrolling through instagram bored outta your mind when you get a call from your fuck buddy, eren. you shot up from ur position on the bed making sure u looked good enough to answer the facetime call. when you were just about to pick up, you stopped in your tracks and let it ring until the call eventually went away.
you wanted to pick up, you really did but you had remembered that just a few days ago mikasa, your best friend, had sent you a screenshot of one of her instagram mutuals close friends post with a message undernesth it saying “isn’t that ur man??”. you clicked on the screenshot and it was a picture of eren and some random girl laying in bed, eren with his face buried deep into her neck displaying all the hickeys he must’ve gotten from her with her hand touching his back. you instantly knew it was eren because of the tattoo behind his ear. obviously you knew you and eren weren’t together and probably would never be, but you just couldn’t stand the sight of seeing him give the d to anyone else who wasn’t u when he could simply just hit you up if he wanted a good fuck. your phone dinged 2 times, making you snap out of your trance.
rennie 💋💋
why u ain’t pick up?
i have ur location, ik ur ass is home.
you rolled your eyes at his messages, deciding not to text him back and just call him instead. he picks up on the first ring, instantly questioning you, not even giving u a proper greeting. “why didn’t you pick up?” he says with a blank stare. “well hello to you too” you scoff which doesn’t go unnoticed by him but he chooses to ignore it. “i was in the bathroom.” you lied. eren nods his head, looking away from the camera not saying anything. there’s a moment of silence before he breaks it and shifts his focus back onto you. “i wanna come over, i miss you.” you shake ur head laughing a bit at his statement. “you don’t miss me, you was just with some other girl like 2 days ago. if you really missed me you would’ve came to me instead of her” eren opens his mouth to speak, but you countinue talking. “eren, you know how i feel about being one of your lil hoes. if you wanna have multiple girls on your roster and pick and choose who u want to fuck on what days, you can get the fuck off my line because i’m not gonna be apart of that bullshit.”
eren sighs and doesn’t say anything for a couple of seconds. he thinks about his next actions and choice of words carefully. on one hand, he can argue with you, which would then lead to you not talking to him for a week, ignoring all his messages and calls and then eventually you’ll get tired of doing that and tell him to come over so y’all can “talk”. or he can just agree with whatever you were saying—and he chose the latter. his patience was wearing thin, he actually did miss you and he didn’t want to jeopardize his chances of seeing you with some stupid argument.
after thinking out his words he finally speaks “you’re right princess, i’m sorry” he says trying to sound as sympathetic as possible. honestly, eren didn’t give a fuck if u did or didn’t like his lifestyle, he does whatever the hell he wants to do. however, he didn’t want u to get any more upset with him than u already were, so he decided to make u feel like u had the upper hand so u would let him come over.
you were about to open your mouth to say some slick shit to him because you knew that these type of conversations between the two of you always ended up in some type of back and forth argument, so you were taken aback when he not only agreed with what you were saying, but even apologized. and eren never apologizes. “im right?” u question, confusion laced in your tone. “yea baby, you are and i’m sorry for making you feel that way. i’ll stop fucking around with all these girls i promise, just let me come over so i can make it up to you properly” after hearing all of eren’s empty promises and him actually “agreeing” with what u had to say for once, you folded immediately and told him to come over. you probably would’ve been standing on buisness a little bit more if u didn’t crave his touch so much but you did, you needed wanted him badly.
once you gave eren the green light that he can come over he was there in less than fifteen minutes and had you butt naked on your bed in less than five.
“keep your legs up, baby” eren instructs and u do as he says. you lift your legs up, locking your arms around them to keep them in place. eren begins to kiss all over the lower half of your tummy and slowly trails down to your pretty pussy. his kisses are so sweet, slow, and sensual that is has your toes curling in the air.
“mmm ren..f-feels good” you mutter out while letting out soft moans. eren hums, which sends a little vibration into you. eren knew u were close, even if u didn’t tell him u were. he was always so good at reading u like a book, but for now he decided to play dumb by pulling away and pretending like he didn’t know why u let out that little grunt when he did. before you can question why he stopped he starts rubbing on your puffy clit while looking into your eyes.
“y/n, i really am sorry that i didn’t come to you the other day. i don’t know what i was thinking princess, you think you can forgive me?” eren coos at you, with a little smirk on his face that goes unnoticed by you since your head is in the clouds with the way he’s rubbing on you. when he doesn’t get a response he slaps your pussy, earning a loud whine from you. “you didn’t answer me my love. you forgive me?” he asks again. “y-yes eren…i-i forgive you!” u hardly manage to let out.
eren smiles at you before he gives the lower half of your stomach another wet kiss. he moves his head back down so he can start making out with your pussy again. he’s being so sloppy with it but lord it feels so good. you try to push eren’s head away but he doesn’t let up and instead starts adding two of his long digits into your wet pussy while eating it.
you had no more strength left in your body to push his head away with the way he was eating and fingering your pussy. “erennnn im so closeee!!” you whine. and just when you were about to have your release, eren stops. he lifts his body up so he can sit down straight on the bed and he looks down at ur trembling body and just laughs.
“rennn what are u doing…?” u question quietly. eren rests his large palm on the right side of your cheek “i’m glad you forgive me, but you know…” he pretends to think for a moment, “i never got an apology from you for telling me what to do and you know i hate that bossy shit” his hands slides up to your neck and he gives it a little squeeze just enough to make you cough a bit. you rest ur smaller hands on top of eren’s, mentally hoping that you can make him forgive you and he’ll forget about all this and just make you cum.
“r-ren i swear i wont do it again im really sorry i-“ eren cuts you off and leans down to press a quick kiss onto your lips that were now swollen from you biting on them previously. he lets go of your neck and gives you his signature annoying (but sexy) smirk and god you wished you could slap that stupid look off his face, but you’re in such a weak state right now from how he was eating you out </3.
“show me how sorry you are and maybe i’ll think about forgiving you, sound good princess?”
#forgive my shitty smut writing </3#anyways i’m working on an ony fic yayyy#eren yeager#eren x black fem!reader#eren x black y/n#eren x black reader#eren yeager smut#eren x reader#eren x black!reader#x reader#eren aot#eren smut#aot fic#4mnji ᯓ★
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