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harmshake · 2 days

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Roman Reigns (bounty hunter) x Fem Black Reader (burlesque dancer) | 18+, NSFW, mentions of weapons and violence, smutty thoughts (for now) | ~4,400 words

Happy reading! Read my other Roman stories here, if you'd like. ✨

The Cowboy Glossary:

Bounty Hunter: A private citizen who captures fugitives for a reward.

Dosido: A two-person dance.

Tin, pesos, pulling the pieces: Currency or money.

Derringer: A gun.

Fit to be tied: To get angry.

Filling your hand: To draw your gun.

Sand: To have courage or grit.

Slog: To start a fight.

Poppycocked: Jabber and talk a lot.

Curly wolf and ranahan: A bad guy or cowboy and a good cowboy, respectively.

Jo-fired: Excited.

At the Encanto, call time was two. Showtime was six. Early for most but not for the regulars. They lived here and retired here, anyway, drinking away the hours of the day at the bar with bottles of Jack Daniels, sinking their eyes into the voluptuous and enticing women who danced on the stage, and wishing they could drink them in, too. It was the same stage that you would grace in just five more minutes. Ready to give a magical performance that would rouse their drunken eyes and raise the tents of their jeans.

Black garter belts and stockings pulled high on your thick thighs. Brown skin peeked just above and just below a frilly, feathery, little number that shone sleek black and red in swirling patterns as it sprouted from your matching, sheer, plumy robe and corset, cinched on your waist tight and letting the girls sit up just right. Your dark coils cinched, too, lifted from your face in a top knot puff to show off your pretty face. You used the sharp end of your comb to part and pull down two ringlets to frame your cheeks, powdered pink and almost melting away into your deep skin. Yet the red on your lips was striking on your tone, glistening like blood that your tongue flicked out to catch a drip from the corner of your mouth to perfect the shape.

The mirror you sat in front of now always showed a woman who could make a man stumble to a stop in the street when you passed by him. Make his boot stutter a kick to his horse who nearly flung him off as his eyes clung onto you. Make him throw his vest to the dirt to keep your stilettos clean, hell, throw himself to your feet and let you walk on him if that helped you better. You never asked to be spoiled—it was just what happened. You never thought much of your looks until it was showtime, time for them to make you some money and pay the landlord. Your mama didn't teach you to rely on anything but yourself and your wit, and certainly not lie on your back. But she wasn't here now, you were, a grown woman with responsibilities. And you weren't above pulling in the pieces using that wit and what mama gave you.

Besides, it was just what the men, and sometimes discreet women, almost killed each other to have, to be the highest bidder, each time you got on that stage, under that spotlight, and in their minds as you moved your body in beguiling birls the way they fantasized, yelped, and paid to beguile only them in the Enchantment room at the back of the saloon.

For now, that little room was at the back of your mind as you stood from your cushy vanity barstool and ran your hands over your outfit, fluffed your puff, and gave yourself a last glance in the mirror. There were women all around you, all finished for the night, touched with makeup that smeared a bit with sweat, their own and perhaps a few patrons, as they chatted noisily, as they watched you, the finale, the enchanted woman the patrons were all waiting to see, stride through their throng of perfumed haze and a few jealous gazes on your way to center stage. The heavy, crushed velvet curtains burgundy, the color of heady wine, and matching the mood slipping into your spirit the way it always did right before Jerry announced your name. His voice, your mood, slow and seductive like how the cabernet made you feel to liven up your nerves yet keep your body tame, agile for slow motion, seduction in action. The men were already cheering and calling for you, ready to see your magic unfold.

The spotlight was hot but it made your skin glimmer with that lick of perspiration that gathered in all the right places. The high bones of your cheeks that rose with the sweetest, simmering smile. The valley of cleavage that fell with your tempered breaths, that caught their eager eyes as they fell down it, too. The stage so bright that with that spotlight, and no other light if it wasn't focused on you, that you couldn't see beyond it—the sea of men you knew surrounded you only from their swells of hoots and hollers for every wave and bend of your body to the slow, seductive melody of the guitar and tambourine. The tavern was almost black like the lace that held the contours of yourself, letting your fingers follow when you closed your eyes in preference of that black, anyhow. Dark and wild thoughts to match, to move your body with an impossible, inviting curve, becoming one with the woodgrain floor, their eyes becoming one with you, as well.

You were hypnotic, you knew it and knew it well, allowing yourself to even get caught up in your spell as you let out the quietest moan through those blood-stained lips and made a type of love to yourself on that woodgrain covered with gloss and probably blood and definitely filth that each man would lick with greedy tongues merely because you laid upon it with thighs spread wide and hips rose high as they swirled like they needed someone, maybe one of them. That was the thought you sought to bury in their minds, robe slipping from your shoulders into a pool beneath you, the rest of your garments on but hands tempting their removal, tempting their eyes to crave what was beneath, a liberty that was only seen beyond their mind's eye if they could put their tin where their mouths were.

You heard a particular fellow open his mouth and get bold then, too close to the stage and too loud, louder than the song that was almost over, begging for you to let him be the lucky winner, hands shooting from the dark as his face appeared from the shadows to reach for your ankle. Too captivated by your spell, it happened sometimes, and each time your patrons would show the fellow the rules with their arms wrenched around his neck or their fists tucked in his gut.

Still cheering, both for the fool who thought he could taste for free getting wrangled away from the stage with security you didn't have to pay for, and for you as you flashed that sweet, simmering smile that made them cheer louder. When the song ended, when your seductive moves slowed to a halt, save for your chest that thrummed with your heart and lungs competing with nerves sizzling your blood and hot air sizzling your throat, the cheers grew deafening.

They quieted only a little when Jerry, the show caller who now twiddled his white, handlebar mustache in scant annoyance for their racket, called for the men to settle the hell down and get their pieces, both in their wallets and in their pants, ready for all the girls who touched the stage tonight. Yet you knew they'd try to call for you, charmed and primed to touch you.

And so you strolled off with your robe draped from your delicate shoulders, not backstage but into the crowd, not to mingle but to further tingle their cravings, feeling safe even as their stares ate you up as you mosied over to the bar for a well-earned glass of wine. The cabernet from earlier long gone from your system, a system still running hot from the thrill of the dance, from the men behind you and beside you already saddled up at the bar, trying their best to get your attention with tips of their wide-brimmed hats and nods as they straightened of their bolo ties. You simply gave them your smile in return, knowing that they knew your nightly routine and would not disturb you until you've had your wine to make you a little calmer, a little friendlier, especially after that fool who attempted to play in your face.

"For you, mon chéri," said Tucker, the bartender who wasn't French in the slightest, not with his heavy, southern twang that throttled every word that left his mouth, as it did all the saloon patrons, as the Encanto sat just north of the Texas and Mexico border. You heard a giggle escape you at his pleasant nickname for you—as you'd been called worse by fouler fools who thought they could get anything out of you that you weren't going to get your pesos for first—and he grinned back as he left your glass filled to the brim on a black napkin in front of you, or at least you figured he did as his thick, brown mustache and beard swallowed up his slender face.

"Thank you, darlin'," you said back, your fingers curling around the bowl of the glass tipped to your lips, that first sip heavenly and sweet as it slipped down your throat. Your eyes slipped to your left where you saw one of the girls holding a dainty hand around a patron's meaty, hairy wrist as she led him into Enchantment, a relieved smirk slipping on your lips as that meant you'd just been bought more time to enjoy your wine and the lovely, little tack piano song that carried over the crowd who had finally relaxed as they let you do the same.

Your eyes tried to slip back to your wine for another sip but they were snatched back to your left and to a man a few seats down that you recognized but not from 'round these parts. He wasn't a regular, no, he wasn't even a patron. You knew it from the lack of whiskey on the countertop where his burly arms, that his cotton sleeves the pigment of soot struggled to wrap around, as they sat with huge hands clasped together next to his black, wide-brimmed cady, no drink caught between them, either. Instead, he caught his thumb in the grooves of his calloused knuckles, eyes the color of dark, spiced rum, though, caught there, too, studying the movement. Not anxious, you knew that for sure. Patient. A task to keep him busy as he waited. For an unfortunate someone, that you knew for damn sure.

His body to collect with a knot of sturdy rope around their wrists or a silver bullet through their head. Your eyes widened a bit at the thought of which he'd use tonight and who he'd collect. Yes, you knew Roman. And you were surprised there weren't more eyes growing wide at his presence as it meant a bounty, a man, was about to be gathered up. Perhaps they were too drunk in their spirits to notice, too delighted with the girls who lifted their spirits with their asses on their laps and arms around their necks.

And yet his presence was much too large for you to ignore, not with his hulking shoulders that were almost laughably large in his ink-dyed denim vest that was tailored for normal-sized men, the black too pristine and likely something he purchased just recently in a pinch. It made you wonder how long he'd been in town, as you noticed his raven hair, slicked back into a bun and sat on his nape above his collar, was suspiciously luminous and free of debris from the desert dirt. You wondered then how dirty he'd gotten his last vest with god knows what, blood, brains, your imagination only saw the ugliest, deepest shades of red staining the earth, deeper than the shade that stained your lips and the rim of your glass that you hid between them for another sip to ease you from his presence. A presence so large not only in the physical scale of him, some kind of worldly giant, but in the line of work he was known to do.

You'd hear whispers of his name in the wind when the ol' handsome devil breezed through town to collect his bounty, not often as your town was a fairly quiet one, the bad boys doing their business on the outskirts or a few towns over to keep the blood off their doorsteps. But Roman would still show up with his silver-toed, black boots planted firmly on their porch mats, a tattered scroll with a portrait of their face and list of dastardly deeds in one hand and his Derringer in the other, pointed low, at the gut, not the head, not yet, as to not scare the misses and babies who didn't need to know daddy had more business to tend to that may or may not bring him back home.

You heard that Roman left that up to them, jail or hell, it was their choice, but he wasn't afraid to take it in the direction that left fire and smoke scorching from that gun and a body coughing up dust from the dirt as he hauled it to his wagon. Made it a spectacle, heads concealed in a burlap sack with rope to hide the damage but their wanted scrolls pinned to their lapels so everyone who saw that wagon rolling on by knew what evil they did and where they were headed.

You couldn't think of anyone here who deserved such a fate and yet Roman wouldn't be here if he didn't think someone deserved to meet justice. Couldn't be the fool from earlier as he'd been thrown out on his ass through the swinging saloon doors. And yet Roman still sat, eyes low, concentrating on seemingly nothing, but perhaps truly on the timing of it all. You let out a strangled cough from the wine going down the wrong pipe, too preoccupied with gaping at the killer's killer to think right and swallowed wrong, the patrons on either side of you already at your service with extra napkins to pat your chin and cleavage dry where the wine had spilled from your lips.

"Boys, boys, I'm fine. Please," you hissed quietly and shooed them away, not wanting to be touched by them and not wanting to bring any more attention to yourself. Not wanting Roman to notice you staring with curious eyes that waited with him for his target who you needed to see. But it was too late, and of course it is, what with the fuss the men made over you, and more so with the performance you realized you unknowingly gave Roman who had been seated in that pool of black beyond the stage, beyond your gaze this entire time. Noticing you, the shape of you, quite well, surely. However, even with his eyes, slow and steady, that crawled down the bar to you, your heart going to thrum a mile a minute like you were the one he was after, they only sat on you for a second as he did not appear impressed with you or that fuss from men around you.

Your perfectly arched eyebrow twitched to be spotted by him, regardless that he already turned his gaze back and down to his knuckles to focus like you were nothing more than a disturbance to that focus. And that, for some reason, made your face twitch again. You were no narcissist, far from it, as most days you barely looked at your reflection any longer than it took to ensure you looked decent as the only time vanity ever trapped you was in your dressing area backstage before the show. Nevertheless, Roman's quick dismissal, like he hardly saw you at all, especially when the men around you had yet to give you breathing room, left an odd coil at the bottom of your stomach. Could be the wine, you considered. Or the bounty hunter who was bound to scrap with someone in here tonight. Or the pitiful regret that someone wasn't you.

The sentiment startled you, lip twitching with a grimace at the intrusive, delicious thought that arrested you. Wasn't like you to lust after a man who wasn't already lusting after you—nor a man who was a bonafide danger. The danger not even well-hidden, his job no secret, his trusty Derringer in the black and worn leather holster on his right hip, coal-colored and sharp-edged like the dagger tucked in his right boot. Right-side dominant, obviously, his right thumb still twiddling about his knuckles before it reached up to briefly scratch the patch of dark and silver beard, cropped low by a good blade and barber, just beneath the right side of his jaw.

And instead of wondering what sort of quick draws he'd won with that dominant right hand, you wondered what else Roman could do right and dominant and deep with it, the ol' handsome devil. You were concerned with the danger, yes, but you also had working eyes. His looks were dangerous, too. The caramel tone of his taut-with-fine-lined and freckled skin almost resembled maple syrup from never-ending trips under the beating sun, trodding on his steed, the color of midnight, from midday to midnight, town to town, bounty to bounty.

You thought to be disgusted with yourself as you hadn't shared an evening with a man who hadn't paid for the privilege in just as many middays to midnights. And you'd be hard-pressed to imagine Roman being the type of man, as serious as he was known to be, to pay for pleasure, something he likely had no time for or interest in with the way he so easily looked away from you, a pit of enchanting pleasure. And you felt insulted, actually, and ashamed for that feeling as pleasure was a tool for you, something you used to fix the leaky sink in your kitchen or replace the floorboards of your attic when they rotted, something your landlord should do but rather left you to do. And so you did what needed to be done, the faces of the carefully chosen men—the patrons who titillated you beyond the pesos they held in their hands—blurring away into the bed as you straddled them and gave them a private dosido, a showing of your bare and secret and supple flesh they paid a high price to see, touch, and taste.

So, why did your blood boil at this man, this outsider, who did not adore you nor pay to adore you, simply because he did...nothing? Well, that was precisely why. Roman had the nerve to be in your town, in your Encanto, to handle his perilous business that would surely disrupt yours. The least he could do was buy you a drink for the trouble he'd stirred in your spirit, the trouble he would soon stir in here. You downed the rest of your cabernet, waving away Tucker who was at the ready with another as you were set and calm and friendly now, sliding off the barstool and ignoring all the eyes that followed you as you made your way to Roman to stand behind his massive back, watching it flinch with muscles that seemed aware of your little, red-lacquered pointer fingertip that hovered over his spine.

"Excuse me," you started to say with a somewhat tipsy, hissy fit before he was already facing you, catching the hand that dared to poke him into his much larger one that was bizarrely gentle, skin warm and roughened from handling rope and gun powder, no doubt, but gentle all the same the way it held yours, gentle the way his eyes did as they peered at you with confusion for a little thing like you to look so fit to be tied and want to provoke him.

"Can I help you, miss?" he said over you, a voice that might as well have boomed over every other sound in the tavern, too. It was deep, clear and free of any local twang, but some twang from a state likely southern but not Texas, bellowing with bass in your ears, and catching you off guard as he did your hand that he only now let carefully fall to your side. You should have figured his tone would match his face: All stern and serious yet something mysteriously soft lingering in the confines of it. The ol' handsome devil, known to right a sin with a sin but right it he must as he had a soft spot for rectitude.

You took in a guarded breath to rid yourself of those final nerves about being so close to the bounty hunter, about his surprise touch still tingling on your skin, and gain the conviction once more to give him a good talking-to. "Yes, you can. I know who ya are. And I'd like to know who you're here to collect and suggest that when ya do, ya do so without scarin' up the whole place."

Roman's dark eyes seemed to lighten a bit at your suggestion which you both recognized as, frankly, a demand, skin crinkled and rounded by his amused smirk that tugged at his lips which parted slightly to reveal a row of perfect pearly whites. He said nothing, that same nothing that ruffled your feathers to begin with, and instead just kept on with those eyes on you that made you likely to twitch again, what with the red wine coursing through your veins and your red blood growing hot from his touch, his gaze that grew more amused from your reaction to his silence that he broke with a sniff. A tiny laugh he breathed out. Your fists balled up at your side and your face scrunched up, too, as you broke that silence louder, "Listen here and listen good. You're above your bend if you think you can come into my place with...with mess without seein' about me."

"I saw you just fine, ma'am. On the stage." He tipped his chin up in its direction, and his voice bellowed again as the bass of it made your heart thrum anew. You knew he had to have noticed you, but his nonchalance was jarring, such a stark contrast to what you were accustomed to—to what you were afraid to admit was yearning nipping at you. "You did a mighty fine job distractin' folks from me slippin' in. Mighty fine, indeed."

"Yeah? Well, I'm no distraction, darlin'. I'm the main attraction." You heard the words fly from your mouth before you could wrestle them back, kicking yourself for allowing the yearning to sell yourself for a reason as petty as Roman not offering to buy. Shameful. Yet his smirk that had begun to spread into a full-blown smile at your wit tried to undo the ego you swore you didn't have, your arms folding over your chest to cover that hitched breath as you brought back your resolve with a smirk of your own and spoke steadily, "And hear me again, before you go fillin' your hand, you best get me a cabernet first. Show me and my establishment some respect."

Playing in the face of danger, you knew it, but something pulled behind your bosom that you kept your arms over until you caught Roman's eyes that took a plunge there, barely a second, before he caught your eyes and laughed. Not at you, with you, your words tickling him as he remarked that you had sand. That something still pulled and reverberated within you with the allured and hardy sound of him, his own magic, making you realize you couldn't recall the last time you'd been allured to a man, not a patron. A dangerous man, one not here for you but here to slog another.

But his gaze stayed with you longer this time, reveling in how his amusement only amused you a little. He shook his head then and asked you with genuine intrigue, "Your establishment? Yer name on the deed, huh?"

"It oughta be. I keep the whiskey bottles off the shelves and the lights on. Now, about that cabernet." It was the truth, you'd glanced at the books, and you'd felt the weight of your payout. You could tell none of that mattered to Roman who only nodded once with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth and eyes slanted like he was almost through figuring out what you truthfully poppycocked about. The yearning. It was likely written all over your pretty face that still puckered to be pining away for the stranger, the danger. You went to speak your piece before he spoke it for you, but he got to speaking first, patting the barstool on his right that'd been empty like no one dared to sit so close to the devil.

"Have a seat, miss. I can get yer cabernet if you can do me a kindness in exchange." Roman's voice was closer to you now that you were perched nearly shoulder to shoulder with him, closer so you could hear him, and feel him, his warm breath tingling along your skin there and leaving you hot like hell.

"What'll that be?" you asked in a shade of whisper, your eyes wanting to meet his but meeting Tucker's, instead, as they rose to the moon when he finally recognized the bounty hunter because he was awfully close to you, his friend and mon chéri that never flirted with a curly wolf, only ranahans. The bartender flitted over to you then, interrupting to ask you both a similar question as he held a rag with quivering fingers to polish a wine glass that he already knew with what to fill for you.

"Nothin' for me but a cab for the lady." Roman leaned to his left to find his wallet on his right, tossing a thank you and a couple of pieces of silver onto the counter when Tucker returned with your wine. Yet when he lingered, you tossed your faint, simmering smile at him to let him know you were jo-fired, all fired up still when Roman's warm breath grazed your skin once more as he spoke to you. A sliver of softness you knew the handsome devil could hide well, but let out with his lone demand. And truly only a sliver.

"I promise I won't 'scare up the place' if you promise not to go startin' any more trouble with me." The wisps of his beard licked your shoulder, might as well have been his lips with a silky kiss the way you shuddered. He hummed, the sound stoking the flames of that pulling in your chest he could surely see if he looked down where your hands were no longer on your bosom but around your glass for a sip to cool you down. "Unless trouble is what you like."

Dosido, Part 1

Thanks for reading! I mentioned this before, but this story was inspired Beyoncé's "Desert Eagle" on repeat and @joannasteez with her seriously amazing au Roman fics you should read (read all her stuff, actually).

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fooled-around-and-fell · 1 day

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Hey! I hope you're good! I saw that requests are open, and so I wanted to send one in. It's totally fine if you'd rather not write it, but I'll just shoot my shot xD. So I was wondering if you could write something about Gojo being the nicest guy when he falls in love with someone? I just had my heart broken by someone and it was stupid and everything so I'm just really in the need of some fluffy Satoru where he knows how to value his partner. Because he's at the age where he knows it's not time to mess around, and also because he's already lost so many people he doesn't take his partner for granted? (Could also be kind of something where he's just a little older than reader maybe, so he knows when to be more serious. Lmao ik it isn't actually Gojo if he's being serious but you get what I mean)💙

hey! I hope you're doing okay ❤️ thank you for this request and I wish you all the best, you're gonna be okay, you got this ✨

summary: gojo satoru shows you what real love is pairing: gojo satoru x female reader genre: fluff content warnings: ooc gojo satoru, fluff Masterlist

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Falling in love is easy.

The hard part is where you choose to stay.

You have to work on it endlessly, each and every day. For some people it's easier to walk away, while those who gets left behind don't get a say and is left to deal with what once was theirs.

It took you a minute to move on from your ex. Looking back, it seems so stupid, so careless, so meaningless, sometimes you wonder why you dated your ex in the first place.

For character development, you convince yourself. You learned some lessons from it, so hopefully in your next relationship, you'll know better.

Which is why when you first met Satoru, you felt a little scared.

A little scared because it's happening all over again. After a few dates, you realize you do like him, and you do want to have something serious with him.

It's the way he'll open doors for you, makes sure you're drinking enough water, prepares vitamins on the kitchen counter -- they all sound like tiny actions that don't matter, but it touches your heart.

It's not only that, though.

It's also how he'd return your kindness tenfold, how he makes sure to text you he's a bit busy so you won't be left waiting around all day, how he'll always book a reservation even though it's just a regular date night and not a celebration.

Sometimes you wonder what did you do to deserve someone like him, and without even asking out loud, he'll reassure you that he's with you because he wants to.

There is no other shoe.

"You feel like going out today?"

You hum, considering it. "Not really. Says it's gonna rain. You wanna stay in and cook? I can make pasta."

"You cooked yesterday, it's my turn."

"Yeah, but you got home late yesterday from work. You must be pretty tired."

Satoru looks at you like you're silly. "You got home late too! What are you talking about?"

"Well yeah, but your job is more difficult than mine-"

"No, no, no." He stops you, "We're not doing this. The agreement is that we switch every day-"

"-or every other day-"

"-if the other person is exhausted." Satoru finishes. "I'm not exhausted, so I'm cooking."

Noticing you're about to argue again, he pinches your nose. "End of discussion. Now go relax, I'm making something delicious."

Rubbing your red nose, you smile and silently follow him to the kitchen. Satoru knows that no matter what he does, you'll always try to show him how much you appreciate him -- it's been your thing since you first started dating, and Satoru has given up trying to tell you that sometimes you don't need to always return the favor. Sometimes he just wants to do something nice.

You, of course, will never listen, so he decides that he'll just have to one up you every single time.

"I'm gonna make a side salad." You say, taking out the romaine lettuce.

"Okay, then I'll make dessert."

You can only smile appreciatively and shake your head. That's Satoru for you.

Your mind suddenly travels to the past, remembering how you'd spend hours alone in the kitchen to prepare a meal for your ex boyfriend, and how he'd come home late, and turns out he had eaten. He didn't even tell you.

And you chuckle to yourself, thinking how foolish you were to have stayed that long. Look at you now, spending time with your lover who showers you with love, shows you how much you mean to him, and never needing to ask "are we okay" if you happen to have an argument.

"Why're you laughing to yourself, hmm?" Satoru nudges your hip with his.

You smile at him, "Just... Just want you to know that I'm really grateful for you, Satoru. You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

Satoru visibly blushes, his lips shaking, "Hey, you're being too sweet now. That's my job."

He circles his arms around your waist as you continue sprinkle some cocoa powder on the tiramisu you made together (of course you insisted on helping make the dessert).

"You're the light of my life," He says, resting his head on your shoulder. "Hope you know that I- Achoo!"

You gasp and can't help but laugh as Satoru chokes on the cocoa powder. "Oh my God, are you okay?"

"F-fine-" He coughs and laughs at the same time.

You hand him a glass of water and chuckle as he downs it. "Who knew Gojo Satoru's nemesis is now cocoa powder."

"Hey, you try inhaling that, it can be dangerous." He clears his throat a few times.

Giggling, you hug him tightly and press a kiss gently on his chin. "I love you, Satoru."

"I love you too, sweets."

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puck-luck · 2 days

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the art of loving you | john marino

warnings: none really, just some sweet anniversary sex between jm and his girl <3 (italics = flashback) pairing: john marino x fem!reader summary: “maybe he gets back from an away game and him and reader have been together for a while so when he gets home its practically desperate the way they want each other and it's like super needy but also intimate because they just know each other like the back of their hands after so long together" wc: 2201

“Hey,” comes John’s soft voice from the darkness of the night. He kneels by your side of the bed and shakes you awake. The sunlight is starting to peek through the curtains. His thumb caresses your cheek, causing you to scrunch your nose from restlessness. “I’m headed to the rink. We’re leaving from there. I’ll be back on Monday, take you to dinner and all.”

“Mmm, okay, baby. Love you,” You slur, voice thick with sleep. You didn’t have to be up for another few hours and normally, you’d pout when John woke you up so early, but things were different. He was headed out on a week-long roadie and he had a game on the west coast on your second anniversary– meaning you two wouldn’t get to spend that together. Despite being sleepy, you pucker your lips to give John a goodbye kiss.

“Love you too,” John whispers, delicately cupping your jaw and pecking your lips twice. “Be back before you know it.”

He stands from his position next to the bed and gathers his things, heading towards the bedroom door.

“Play good,” You call out after him.

“First star every night, just for my girl,” John promises with a smile, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

A week later, John was headed back to Jersey and you had put on your favorite little black dress for your anniversary date. He hadn’t been named first star of the game during any of their games, but he had gotten one of his rare goals on your anniversary, and his celly ended in a kiss blown towards the camera that touched your heart.

You were waiting by the door when John came home and you jump him before he even gets the chance to cross the threshold.

“Hi,” John greets. “Missed you.”

“Missed you,” You reply, arms looped around his neck. You pull him into a hug, feeling his hands wrap around your waist and press your bodies flush against each other.

You two stay in the hug for a few minutes, waiting for your breath to sync and for John to start rocking you from side to side the way he always does when your touch goes on for too long. As much as he loves to touch you, he’s never been one for hugs, unlike you. To you, John’s hugs are like crack and you take your fix anytime you can get it.

“Dinner?” John asks, pulling away and rubbing your arms like he’s warming you up.

“Rezzi at the normal place,” You confirm. You give his chest a firm pat. “Go change. This is our anniversary dinner, after all. Want you to wear something nice.”

“Gonna propose to me or something?” John teases, finally letting the apartment door fall shut behind him.

You drag his suitcase to the bedroom, parking it next to the chair before sitting on the edge of the bed. “Isn’t that your job?”

“All in good time,” John replies, following you down the hall with his hockey bag over his shoulder. He opens the door to the balcony and sets his personal pads out on the chair to air out. He also sets his dirty clothes on the chair– something you’ve chided him for in the past, since he could just throw them in the wash and kill the smell that way.

You watch John change into a suit, smiling widely when he sneaks little peeks at you every few minutes.

“Really did miss you, you know,” John says, focusing on tying his tie in the mirror on the back of the closet door. “Mercer tried to sprinkle rose petals in my locker on our anniversary to make me miss you less.”

“He’s so supportive.” You laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides.

“Tried to take me to dinner too,” John continues. “Said he might as well take me out if we were going back to the hotel together anyway. What kind of girl does he take me for?”

“Maybe he was trying to recreate our love story,” You say. “It wasn’t exactly the most conventional of meetings for us. You took me for one of those girls.”

“Yeah, but you asked me what I was doing later, I was just being honest.”

“You’re lucky it worked out for you.”

John makes a kissy face at you, then walks over and reaches out to take your hand and help you up. “Dinner?” He asks.

“Let’s go,” You answer, leading him out of the bedroom and back down the hall, out of the apartment and down to the garage.

John drives, naturally. You’d appointed yourself his passenger princess long ago and he’d never asked you to drive. He orders your wine and meal for you at the restaurant, knowing that you’ll get the same thing you always get. He takes the menu away from you, too, so you can’t even pretend to peruse the offerings. He did so with a knowing look and you replied with an embarrassed smile, rolling your eyes because your boyfriend knows you so well.

When your food comes, John cuts his meat into precise cubes and you steal a piece or two off of his plate, despite the fact that you have your own food to pick at. John allows you to do so with only a few noises of protest, only a few teasing and threatening inflections of his fork at your wandering utensil.

You two make small talk– about John’s games, about your week at work, about the upcoming inspections your landlord is doing for the plumbing in your apartment after John tried (and failed) to adjust the water pressure to your liking. You’ve been in this relationship so long that you don’t need to have the deep conversations all the time, or plan out the future in a lengthy conversation over some red wine.

John is your future, and you’re his.

When you arrive home, John takes you to the bedroom and kneels at your feet, unstrapping your high heels and prying them away from you. He rubs your feet a little bit to soothe the ache of wearing heels all night, a small smile on his face the whole time. You brush his hair out of his face and take in his small details– the moles on his cheek near his mouth, the button of his nose, the scar from the stray puck that marred his skin and left behind the mark that you love to kiss.

“You look pretty down there,” You say, breaking the silence.

John shoots you a look and tries to hide his smile, hide the blush that always spreads across his cheeks when you call him pretty. He kisses your knee and rises to sit next to you on the bed. “Happy anniversary,” He says softly, like it’s a secret between the two of you.

“Happy anniversary, Johnny,” You reply. You press your lips to his, the kisses smooth and slow even as John makes his way down your neck to your shoulder.

Your movements are a language of their own. John’s fingers light fires on your arms as he feels your goosebumps. Your knee presses into his thigh, the connection of your skin on his stronger than a dam. His tongue moves against yours insistently when he makes his way back up to your mouth.

“You gonna let me fuck you like I wanted to the other night?”

You moan into John’s mouth. “Hard?”

“Mm-mm,” John hums, shaking his head. He reaches down, pulls your panties to the side, and starts to slide a finger into you. “Slow,” He breathes out, not even a hair’s distance from your lips. “I’m going to touch you everywhere, angel. You’re gonna feel every bit of me.”

“Even better,” You say. “Want you to fill me up.”

John thrusts his finger inside you and works a second in, scissoring and curling his fingers until you’re a moaning mess beside him.

Your hand is gripping his shoulder so hard that your fingernails might as well tear his shirt. You’re panting, mouth perpetually open. The pressure between your legs is insurmountable, aching and throbbing as John pulls you closer to the edge.

“Johnny, Johnny,” You plead, pushing at his arm. “Fuck me, want to come when you fuck me.”

“Finger yourself,” John commands, pulling away from you to shrug his suit jacket off. He unbuttons his top as you shove three fingers inside your cunt, hungry for more. Really, you’re keeping yourself full while he acts as eye candy. You’re not trying to chase an orgasm, like you normally are when you and Johnny fuck. No, today you’re just here, just waiting to feel his cock enter you and satisfy you in a way that your fingers never could.

He strips hurriedly, standing just mere inches from the bed. He throws the clothes around the room, not caring where they land. You track each movement, having seen his naked chest plenty of times to have it memorized by now. His underwear make their way to the arm of the chair in the corner, and it’s when you realize that he’s naked that your eyes return to his figure.

His cock is just as wonderful as ever– you’ve been in love with John for a long time, but his beautiful cock and the way he fucks you always makes you love him just a little bit more. He knows it, too, from the way he smirks at you– he knows that you love him, but if he was a shit fuck, you would tell him that you have the capacity to love him more. Maybe that’s crazy.

You pull your fingers out of your entrance and use them to spread your lips, showing John the expanse of the part of you that’s just for him.

John smiles, takes his cock in his hand, and pumps himself a few times.

You bite your lip and return his smile, watching the precum bubble and drip from his slit.

“Fuck me, J,” You beg. “Please.”

John joins you again on the bed, pushing you down onto your back and opting to forego your little black dress altogether and slide your panties down your legs instead. “You look so pretty,” John compliments.

“Thank you,” You reply, feeling shy all of a sudden.

“Wanna see how your tits bounce in this dress while I fuck you,” John continues, leaning over you on the bed and lining himself up with your core. One of his legs pins your knee to the bed, while the other stays straight and braces against the floor.

His words seem to steal all the thoughts from your mind, leaving nothing but the feeling between the two of you as he pushes the bulbous head of his cock into you.

John moves slowly, like he promised. He fills you, warms you from the inside-out. He punctuates each drag with a sharp push into your core, causing your body to shift up on the bed. He raises a hand and grasps your breast, both keeping you in place and filling his palm with one of his favorite body parts of yours.

You don’t exchange words, minus a reassuring, hushed “I know,” that drips from John’s lips and into your ear when you become close. He fishes your boob out of your dress and dips down to attach his mouth to your nipple, reaching his other hand down to soothe circles onto your clit. The added stimulation sends you into a whirlwind and John can practically feel the pitter-patter of your heart from where he’s sucking at your chest.

“Johnny,” You cry, clutching his shoulder and arching your back beneath him.

“Yeah, honey. I know, my angel,” He mumbles against your skin. He leaves burning kisses along your body up to your lips.

“Please,” You say, high strung and wanting so much that you’re almost shaking with it.

John moans, wrenching himself away from your lips to press a kiss to your cheek, then returning to your lips. His thrusts grow stuttered and desperate, no longer slow. They’re just as passionate, just as fulfilling, and John coaxes the orgasm out of you just as he unravels himself.

He holds you like you’re a precious liquid that is slipping through his fingers.

You almost want to cry from the feeling, the knowledge that you and John share so much love between the two of you and there will be nights like this for the rest of your life.

John leads you over the edge and guides you through it, holding you and murmuring sweet nothings into your ear until your breath returns to normal. He traces your cheek, then draws his fingers down your neck.

“You’re everything,” John says. “I meant it. I’m going to marry you… all in due time.”

Instead of a response, you take his hand in yours and press a kiss to the back of it. You lace your fingers together and bring your interlocked hands to your chest, resting them over your heart. All you can do, really, is smile and cuddle closer to John, feeling his heat fill the bed and making you doze off.

note: just finished watching "you've got mail" for the first time. sigh. what a movie. devastating. sooo invisible string. corporations need to stop winning.

#puck-luck's fics #john marino #john marino smut #john marino x reader #john marino x y/n #john marino x you #jm6 #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl x y/n #andy writes anything🍄

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buriedpair · 2 days

Note

How would all the yanderes react to a shy darling working at the casino as wait staff who attempts to keep their distance only working to pay off a debt the innocent type like a frightened kitten or bunny

You got it! Sorry for posting so much followers, I love my guys so much. I have a Gambit post incoming after this!!!

Yandere!OCS x GN Reader

Amias

He's had you as his server a few times. Admittedly, you never spoke much and got nervous easily, but he enjoys your company. It's a nice change from the other over dramatic fucks working in this damn place.

That's how he finds himself requesting you to his confused waiter one day, and then the next. Eventually, everyone just assumes he wants you as his server when he walks in. He starts ordering drinks more frequently to try and make you open up. It's just too endearing, how you avoid his questions and avert your gaze and whatnot.

You, on the other hand, are alarmed. You've never had a regular before. You immediately try to get out of it. Every day he asks for you, you're miraculously missing, busy, or on break.

It doesn't frustrate Amias in the slightest. When he's told that you're not there, he simply gets up to look for you.

No doubt, he WILL find you.

"So afraid all the time... Rightfully. You should be."

Edge

As a dealer, he doesn't get to move from his spot much. You've been formally introduced to each other before, but he's never cared much. You're not interesting to him.

On one of his late-night shifts, he notices you're still there. But... weren't you there when he came in? On his next break, he asks you about it. He doesn't seem concerned, just curious. Hesitantly, you explain that you had to pick up someone else's shift because you needed the cash. You try to explain that it's definitely not like you're in crippling debt right now, and you're totally fine.

He finds this curious. He's no doubt had to pick up shifts before in his life, but he finds it endearing how insistent you are that you're fine. When he pokes further into it, he ends up with all the information he needs.

You're such a meek little thing, he wonders how easily you'd break under his thumb.

Time passes, and he slowly starts to nudge and press against your insecurities. It's like your melting into a pool of "what the fuck" and being rebuilt over and over again. He supports you financially for a while, and you're forced to stay at his side for as long as he wants you to. Which is to say, until you're boring again.

"Love, ownership... Are they not the same?"

Double Down

He thinks you're just ADORABLE. He finds time to flirt with you, even when he's busy. He'll dedicate his executions to you, he'll watch you like a hawk from where he stands... You're like his own personal pet!

It's superficial at first. He just wants to get you in his grasp long enough to entertain him. Once he's done with you, he casts you aside again. Yet, once you're gone, he finds himself waiting for you to come back.

You don't.

You realize you've been used like an object, and timidly resign to go find a better job. (Frankly, it's good for you anyways. It's hard to watch so many people bite it each day.) You're madly, deeply, truly embarrassed that you let him win.

When DD finds out you've quit, he grows furious. Why? He doesn't know. All he knows is that you left him. NOBODY leaves him. Not until he's done with them.

Rest assured that you are completely and utterly unsafe now. Poor kitten, he'll be sure to take terrible care of you.

"Leaving me is the last mistake you'll ever make, if you want to keep your cute little eyes open."

BONUS ROUND!

Jackpot and Gambit

Jackpot just oozes confidence, so naturally you stay as far away from him as you can. He's practically the exact opposite of you. Plus, looking at him makes you nervous. Additionally, Gambit is like the boss of all bosses. There's no way you could speak to him other than a small squeak every time he regards you.

They noticed you, though. How do you think you got this job? Jackpot saw you and knew he wanted you, and Gambit followed suit as soon as he saw your poor, pitiful self.

You spilled someone's drink. Fuck. You're screwed. You're dead. You're fired. You'll crawl into a hole now, thank you. The drunk customer is enraged in an instant. He stands to throw hands, and you flinch back.

The punch never lands, however. Your knight in blue, skin-tight armor has arrived. Jackpot smiles softly at the offender, as if he wasn't holding his fist in a death grip. In a deceptively sweet tone, he explains that he doesn't tolerate any sort of violence toward the staff.

Once the customer is kindly escorted out of the establishment, Jackpot finally acknowledges you. He doesn't speak, he simply pulls your shaking form into his strong embrace. Your fear is overshadowed by intense embarrassment considering the amount of clothes he's wearing. He's warm, though.

He hushes you as he holds you, stroking your hair and swaying back and fourth. You internally wonder how this man manages to show such intimacy.

You hardly notice that there's a discussion going on around you until your arm is gently taken by... Well, fuck. Your boss is here. You're definitely fired.

Gambit chuckles in acknowledgement of your nerves, shaking his head. He doesn't seem angry, more amused. He plants a kiss to the back of your hand, asking you how you're feeling. You stumble over your words, unable to form a coherent sentence in such a situation.

They both smile fondly-- Nay, possessively-- down at you. How cute, maybe now you'll learn that they're the only ones who can protect you.

"You don't need to worry, sweet thing. We'll never let anyone hurt you again."

"I'll make sure you feel much better by your next shift. You'll have to stay with us for a while. No arguments, unless you want that debt to swallow you whole."

#yandere oc #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere boy #yandere art #yandere x darling #yandere boyfriend #yandere x you

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revehae · 2 days

Note

i’m not asking you to write for wonbin but if you ever do js know i wiillllll be there !

yall have finally did it yall have won yall have Cracked me i hope youre happy bc i kinda am… i had this idea before he cut his hair now im feeling like that one harry styles fan tweet and i don’t even stan fr

warnings: drug use, addiction, is this dubcon idk

wc. 670

dealer!wonbin x (f) rich!reader.

wonbin knew you wouldn’t turn down his offer. not in the state that you were in, moody and tense as ever. the girl he’d seen around here and there at parties hadn’t come back around, not since he’d first seen her bump a line or two, and she’d been replaced by you.

what you had become over the months, at least.

not that wonbin would have it any other way. he liked having you kind of dependent on him, knowing he was the first person crossing your mind when you needed a fix. but the brief interactions, meeting you at a party or somewhere shady at night, your car window rolling up as quickly as it had gone down, weren’t enough anymore.

“no.”

“no?” you repeated, like the entitled, spoiled rich girl you really were deep down. wonbin had to give you credit, you cloaked it well, but when you were desperate, you showed your true colors. “what do you mean no?”

wonbin grinned playfully, in a way that he knew would aggravate you. “i mean, i set everything aside for my buddy, and i don’t have enough for you right now.”

you rubbed your nose and ran a finger through your hair, exhaling exasperatedly. “well, tell him to wait. i need it more than he does! is he paying you? i’ll pay you twice as much!”

there you went, offering him your pocket money, throwing it away like it was nothing just for a second of your high. but wonbin didn’t need your money. selling cocaine to recklessly needy addicts like yourself was a very lucrative business.

he shook his head. “sorry, that’s not gonna cut it. but i thought of something better.”

you were in the middle of losing what was left of your mind when wonbin said that and your eyes immediately snapped back to him, fixed to him before he could even get the words completely out.

“i’ll give you two grams if you let me fuck you,” wonbin said casually, a wild grin tugging at his lips. “six grams if you let me do it raw.”

you were a little reluctant at first, but wonbin wasn’t surprised when you finally caved, thinking to himself, that was too damn easy.

because he was nice, wonbin let you snort a line before he touched you, but he was on top of you not a second later. in spite of that, he didn’t move like he was in any particular hurry, snaking a hand up your shirt and pressing his lips against your lips. then your neck, your collarbone, your belly. almost affectionately, almost.

it started to work you up quickly, and you even got annoyed, tugging at his hair, but wonbin didn’t care. matter of fact, he could feel his body getting hotter, burning a thousand degrees. he wanted to savor every second of you, every touch of you, every smell of you.

wonbin really liked the smell of you. the sweet scent helped masked the madness underneath when you were like this. he leaned in to sniff your hair, your neck, your clothes, your hands.

it made his dick twitch in his pants and he couldn’t control himself anymore, yanking it free so that he could steer himself between your open, inviting legs, moaning shakily and blowing his hair out of his eyes as he pushed into you.

knowing that only a few months ago, your dignity would have never let you consent to something like this, wonbin almost felt bad. he may have sold the drugs, but he never touched them otherwise. too many people he had seen wind up like you, selling themselves out for a moment of ecstasy.

but he wasn’t so different. your cunt squeezed and throttled the life out of his cock. sweat was the reason your body clung to his. you were muttering his name, dragging red lines down his back with your fingernails. and for the time being, there was nothing wonbin wouldn’t do for his moment of ecstasy.

#wonbin smut #riize smut #park wonbin smut #riize x reader #riize imagines #dark riize #tw: drug use

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jnnul · 2 days

Text

falling in love at first sight (x3)

a/n: so i woke up in cold sweat and i had to write this. there's like 30k i could've written about this but tbh, i needed to get this out lol. also taesan has been living in my head rent free so this is his eviction notice. quick note: feedback, comments, etc. GREATLY encourage writers! if you felt any sort of way (in a good or bad way!) about this fic, pls leave feedback!

word count: 6.3k

tags: college au!, basketballplayer!taesan x nurse!y/n, honestly it's just a fluff piece, idiots in love, dongmin is DOWN BAD and falls in love with the same girl 3 times, uhh y/n is a feisty nurse warnings: taesan is called dongmin, uhh alcohol + memory loss involved with getting shitfaced lol

HAN DONGMIN DIDN'T REALLY BELIEVE IN SUPERSTITIONS. to him, things like 'knocking on wood' or 'not opening an umbrella inside' were just old wives' tales that didn't have much substance to them.

but after dongmin had shattered his bedroom mirror this morning (he'd accidentally launched his alarm clock across the room after sleeping too late last night), nearly every single thing in his life had gone wrong.

he'd put expired milk in his cereal because kim donghyun (his roommate) hadn't switched out the milk like he'd promised to the day before. then he went to take a shower, only to be burned by scalding hot water since the landlord refused to change the heating system, even though they'd been suffering through the sticky heat of august for fifteen days already. as if all of that wasn't enough, he'd accidentally torn his favorite hoodie trying to clean up the fragments that'd fallen on the floor. and when he was trying to salvage his hoodie, he scraped his forearm against the fragments, meaning he had a nasty gash along the long side of it.

which meant he'd have to go to the hospital to take care of this stupid bloody mess instead of going to class.

that was how han dongmin found himself sitting in the waiting room of the urgent care center of the hospital, a shoddy rag wrapped around his forearm, his essentials hoodie covered in blood, expired milk, and mirror dust.

needless to say, dongmin had gotten more than a few strange looks from the other people in the waiting room in the last four minutes he'd been there.

"han dongmin!" the receptionist calls out, and dongmin launches himself out of his chair, impatient to get this over with as soon as possible.

something about hospitals just gave dongmin the heebie jeebies. the fluorescent lighting, the smell of rubbing alcohol, the tangible feeling of sickness that wafted through the air.

ugh. dongmin hated hospitals. in fact, he was so sure that he would never even step foot in a hospital after this. if he needed to wrap himself in bubble wrap to do so, then so be it because he hated hospitals and he would never come ba -

dongmin stops dead in his tracks, right next to the recovery bed that the receptionist had led him to. standing in front of him was the most gorgeous person he'd ever seen in his life.

you were smiling at something the patient in front of you was saying, leaning over to bandage the patient's scrape with a little bandaid that had cartoon ryans all over it.

fuck that.

dongmin was ready to break his leg if it meant that he got to stay in the hospital and stare at your beautiful face all day. before he could find something big and heavy to knock his leg into, however, you make your way over to dongmin, clipboard and first aid kit in hand.

"hello," you say with a soft smile. "my name is y/n l/n and i'll be taking care of you today. is there anything i can help you with?"

"will you go out with me?" the words escape dongmin's mouth before he can even process what he's saying and you immediately lean backwards, a disproving wrinkle between your eyebrows.

"excuse me?" you say, and it's clear that dongmin's not gonna be in your good graces if he hits on you. he really hoped you were like this with everyone and not that you just found him super unattractive or anything (donghyun swore up and down that dongmin was not ugly - especially now that he'd dyed his hair! but donghyun also never had to chase after a girl in his life so...). or worse, if you already had a boyfriend.

but before he can ruminate about your affronted stance too deeply, dongmin rushes to fix his mistake. "i mean, hospitals really freak me out. the ethanol smell and the lighting and everything kinda gets in my head, you know what i mean? do you think you could just slap some gauze on outside?"

the tension in your shoulders immediately relaxes and you take a step forward once more, setting the first aid kit down next to dongmin.

"oh yeah, that makes sense," you say, sounding relieved. "unfortunately, i can only provide care while inside the hospital to make sure that the instruments and gauze are sterile to prevent any contamination. i promise i'll be as quick as possible so i can get you out of here!" you explain, a slight pout tugging your lips down in the most adorable way as you seem genuinely sorry for dongmin.

it was official: han dongmin was in love.

"no, don't worry. take your time. i mean, the cut is pretty bad and i don't wanna leave any mirror guts in it," dongmin says. as quick as possible, my ass, he thinks to himself. i gotta find a way to make this last for as long as i can.

"of course!" you assure, before looking down at the clipboard. "so i assume you cut yourself on a broken mirror? does it hurt when you apply pressure?"

what was the answer that would keep you here longer?

"yes?"

"are you asking me or telling me?"

"telling?"

"very convincing. i'm gonna need to apply pressure and confirm for myself then, if that's alright with you?" you look at him in a way that seems to be somewhat apprehensive and dongmin has never wanted to reverse time more than in this very instant.

until he doesn't because your hands are on his forearm, examining the wound gently and applying pressure around the open gash.

"does it hurt when i do this?" you ask, eyes trained on the way that his forearm muscles ripple and move as you apply pressure in different places.

dongmin's not the most buff guy on the planet, and you checking out his muscles was definitely not for your own pleasure, but at least all of his time on the court and in the gym has paid off in some way.

"uh...no. not unless you're super close to the cut," dongmin says and you nod with a gentle smile. it's in that moment that dongmin decides that he would kill anyone and anything just to see you smile like that again,

"that's good to hear. well, i guess that all we need to do is 'slap some gauze on' after disinfecting the wound and making sure we don't have any 'mirror guts' in it," you say, a hint of cheekiness in your tone. dongmin doesn't know what it is about it but it makes him blush, regardless.

"yeah. that sounds good," he says dreamily, trying hard to compose himself once more when you flash him a questioning look.

you work carefully on his arm, making sure to give a tiny little stress ball to dongmin to use when you descend upon his wound with some antibacterial medicine and rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball.

"so, uh, you look pretty young for a doctor...?" dongmin says, trying very hard to focus his attention on you instead of the stinging pain that came with every touch of the cotton ball on his wound. the more he looked at you, the more he began to wonder if he'd seen you somewhere before.

dongmin wasn't the superstitious type, and didn't exactly believe in 'love at first sight', but no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't place you anywhere in his memory.

"that might be because 'm not a doctor," you say somewhat distractedly. "i'm a nursing student."

"oh. oh! you're a nursing student?" he asks. student. that means that you were either his age or just a few years older than him. and it also probably meant that you were a student at a university near by - maybe his?

"yep. a second year. although, don't worry, i've completed all of my first aid clinicals last year itself," you explain, leaning back in satisfaction when you finish cleaning up the wound.

"my school has a pretty famous nursing program, you know. maybe you've heard of yonsei's nursing program?" dongmin asks, eyes shining with hope.

it's only then that you look up at dongmin with an excited look in your eyes, turning to throw away the used cotton balls.

"i go to yonsei as well! i'm just starting my second year. it's a little strange because the nursing program runs through the summer, which is why i'm working clinicals right now. i'm almost done though, so i'll be switching into a field i'm more interested in," you say and dongmin swears he hears wedding bells in his mind. beautiful, kind, intelligent, and the same age as him? it was like god was basically handing his soulmate to him on a platter. maybe love at first sight was real after all.

"me too! well, i'm not a nursing major, but i'm a second year electrical engineering major," dongmin says, watching you turn back towards him with a clipboard.

"mhm, well, i've gotta tell you to be careful for the next week or so. no heavy lifting, sports, and definitely no cutting things. we don't want to make the wound worse, now do we?" you say chidingly, scribbling instructions on the clipboard of how to clean the wound with rubbing alcohol and how many pills of ibuprofen to take per day.

"of course," dongmin says half-heartedly. as much as dongmin hated the feeling of pain, the was the only way that he could think of to get to see you again was to somehow hurt himself again.

"how about you come back in a week to just make sure that it closed up well? make sure it didn't get infected or anything?" you ask, handing him the sheet of paper.

god was real.

dongmin swore he was going to go to church and donate at least 10,000 won for the blessing after blessing he was receiving today.

"oh sure," he says, a mischievous thought popping into his head. "but is it ok if i find you on campus? i have a lot of labs over the next week and i can't miss them if i can't even participate in them, so i can at least get the information. i won't really have time to stop by the hospital," dongmin says carefully, watching your expression to ensure that it wasn't changing with every word that escaped your lips.

technically, it wasn't a lie. dongmin did have a lot of labs next week but that's definitely not why he wouldn't have time to stop by the hospital.

"i don't see why not. i don't need any sterile instruments to just check quickly, so that shouldn't be an issue," you say slowly, nodding to yourself as you look around the little station to make sure you wouldn't need any of the equipment.

"perfect," dongmin says, shuffling out of the bed that he was sitting in to leave before turning around nonchalantly. "do you think i could get your number? so i know where to find you?"

you look up at him, and dongmin tries his best to seem sincere and genuine rather than as calculating as he felt, trying every tactic possible to see you again.

"yeah. yeah, here let me type it into your phone."

he hands his phone over to you, and it takes every single fiber of his being to keep himself from looking excited about any part of this transaction. you were already suspicious enough of him; you definitely didn't need more reasons to add to the list.

you're frowning slightly when you hand the phone back to him so dongmin pockets it without a second thought, to prove that he wasn't trying to be weird.

"thank you so much again." dongmin waves as he leaves, flashing the award-winning smile that he usually reserves for aunties and restaurant owners for free sides. oh, and for his fans.

you don't blush and trip over yourself when he does like his fans do - although you offer him a soft smile in return.

although, dongmin muses, i guess it would be weird if a nurse who met me for the first time would be anything like a college basketball star's fan though. maybe.

he shakes his head, opening the door to the hospital, looking down at his arm wrapped in gauze. yeah. there was no way that dongmin was taking a break from basketball. season started in less than three weeks and as yonsei's point guard, he had no choice but to just power through the injury.

it might work out in his favor after all. at least it would give him more chances to see you.

+++

turns out, the universe gives him a chance less than two days after he sees you for the first time. and in any other case, dongmin would be incredibly excited to see you again. he'd probably be ready, waiting with freshly showered hair and clean clothes and nice smelling cologne.

instead, when he sees you again, he's wearing raggedy shorts, a stained shirt, and holding a basketball that he definitely should not be holding.

dongmin knew he was fucked the moment you walked in through the double doors that opened up to the indoor basketball court of yonsei, light spilling in from the outdoors, along with the chatter and excitement of students returning to university.

you walk in wearing white, along with six other people dressed similarly, the basketball team's physician (dr. moon taeil) at the head of them all. dongmin hopes that you don't recognize him - or at least don't see him actively playing but of course, you manage to turn your head to see dongmin throw the ball out of his hands in a random direction in panic.

the ball, then of course, managed to fall neatly through the hoop, as though dongmin had intentionally thrown it there, causing him to want to die on the spot.

so he couldn't do that during a game with korea university, but now that he was doing everything in his power to keep you from seeing him play basketball, now he manages to throw it in the one place it shouldn't go.

your eyes narrow when dongmin turns to face you, your gaze falling to his (poorly) wrapped forearm. he offers you a trembling grin, which slowly turns into a frown when you look away, shaking your head as you start talking to the girl next to you.

at least you wouldn't say anything to coach about how he wasn't supposed to be playing right now, dongmin thinks to himself. even if i've effectively ruined my chances of her ever believing me about anything ever again. uh. not that i've had more than one conversation with her. or might have more in the future.

dongmin shivers, jogging over to where the basketball had fallen to pick it up and return to his place at the three-point line and continue shooting practice.

he returns to where he's supposed to be practicing, so that his back is facing the group of people who'd entered - namely, you.

"i forgot coach mentioned that we've got new on-site medical staff," dongmin mutters to himself, dribbling the ball before lining up his shot. "i didn't know that she'd be a part of that though - she can't be the sporty type if she didn't recognize me from the hospital."

dongmin is so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't even feel the dark presence looming over him until the ball is released from his hand.

"HAN DONGMIN!" someone yells, right next to his ear, and dongmin scrambles to attention, wincing when the basketball bounces off the rim and into the cart of basketballs he was practicing with with a resounding clang!

he turns slowly, eyes closed, as if that would make you go away.

"i cannot believe that i bandaged you up so carefully just for you to start playing again! how could you be so careless? do you not want to be able to play during the season? you're yonsei's ace and you're being this irresponsible!" you're heaving by the end of your rant and dongmin blinks, trying to come up with a response.

you definitely didn't know him well enough to yell at him like this - much less in front of all of his teammates - but for some reason, that's not what stuck out to dongmin.

(much to his chagrin, you being angry was hot. like really hot. especially since he'd thought you'd be the soft and cozy type, not the impulsive and quick to anger type. he really liked this side of you.)

"you know who i am?" he asks slowly.

"OF COURSE I KNOW WHO YOU ARE! OH, YOU ARE GETTING ON MY NERVES. YOU ASS, I DIDN'T BANDAGE YOU UP THAT NEATLY FOR YOU TO BE WALKING AROUND SHOOTING THREES!"

you're yelling at him, and for some reason, dongmin has never wanted to kiss someone more in his life. he'd never though he'd be this attracted to someone that he's just met yelling at him, much less in front of his entire team and her own entire team. but for some reason, as dongmin looks at you waving your hands all crazy and annoyed, all he can think about it how much he likes you.

it wasn't just physical. of course, he thought you were beautiful - possibly the most beautiful person he'd ever seen in his life and he would die on that hill - but it was more than that. it was as though he'd genuinely fallen in love at first sight.

you could tell him that you were a serial killer and at this point, dongmin would just admire your bloodlust.

"uh. dongmin?" coach jung says behind him, hands crossed over his chest. "do you guys need a moment to step out and come back?"

even coach jung seems a little bit intimidated by your livid state of being and dongmin has to cough to cover up his life.

"no coach. we're done here," you say, turning dramatically on your heel to turn back to your friends. but dongmin moves quicker than even his own mind can process what happens.

before he can think, his hand is wrapped around your wrist, spinning you closer to him, almost as if the two of you were ballroom dancing.

you look up at him, shocked, but dongmin is slow to let go of your wrist, not wanting to lose contact with you.

"no, we need just a moment," dongmin says, his eyes never leaving your own. it's clear that you neither expected this nor were used to this kind of behavior from anyone and before the fight that's building inside of you bubbles out, dongmin tilts his head toward the door that leads to a hallway extending to the equipment room, practically begging you with his eyes.

you aqcuiesce - or at least, dongmin thinks you do - from the way that your shoulder melt just the slightest and you let him pull you into the hallway.

"what?" you snap the second the door shuts behind the two of you. "okay, maybe i didn't let on that i knew you from our encounter, but that's irrelevant. i didn't need to tell you that i knew you. and besides, as your healthcare provider, it would have been extremely irresponsible on my end for me to let slip that i'm a fan - or that i know you personally at all."

dongmin can't help but let a small smile slip. "personally? we know each other personally?"

you fluster in that moment, looking anywhere but at dongmin, bringing a large smile to his face. he'd never thought that the feisty, quick to temper and quick to lose it, loud type was his type but he was starting to enjoy it very much.

"alright, well i know you personally enough, alright?" you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "we've met before."

now it's dongmin's turn to look flustered, as he wracks his brain, trying to come up when or where the two of you have met before. he wasn't the one-night-stand type, so that couldn't be it. he also didn't have an insane amount of friends outside of the basketball team and donghyun's friends, so that wasn't it either.

"i'm really sorry - and i'm definitely trying to hit on you, just not right now - but i don't remember. i'd definitely remember someone like you," dongmin says, and he's well aware of the fact that his tone does not sound any level of displeased, and rather dreamy.

you roll your eyes, looking down at the ground. "we kissed once. twice actually. but um. that's not my point."

you clear your throat, as if you hadn't just dropped the biggest bomb of the century on dongmin, shaking your head. "why the hell are you playing basketball on an injured arm anyway? i specifically said no sports!"

dongmin raises an eyebrow. "you say you're my fan and yet you're still asking me why i'm playing when we have our first game in a week. and hold on. i'm not letting go of that first part; we've kissed? twice?"

you shrug, but it's clear that you don't think of it as nonchalantly as you're trying to make it sound when you speak. "yeah. in freshman year. once in spring semester and then once in fall. it's not a big deal. to you at least. clearly you kiss a lot of girls, if you don't even remember us kissing at all."

"now that's not fair," dongmin pouts, but he's well aware that he's not conveying this well at all. suddenly, a flash of a girl wearing a red dress, looking up at him with big eyes and a pouty lips crosses his mind.

good god. were - were you dongmin's mystery girl?

+++

"what do you mean dongmin finally found his mystery girl? the one he's been crushing on for a full year?" myung jaehyun says incredulously, instantly pulling out his phone to look you up on instagram.

dongmin sits in the middle of his friends, all sitting at the same table as they were supposed to be eating lunch, his head resting in his hands.

"you mean the one that he swore was the love of his life? god, he wouldn't shut up about that for at least six months," lee sanghyuk says, shoveling noodles in his mouth.

"try a year," donghyun groans, rubbing his forehead in pain. "do you remember the state of this kid when he woke up the next day?"

"good god, it was horrible. all he could say for a full week was that he wanted to jump out of the window because he'd lost her number and that he was never going to find true love because he couldn't remember her name, number, or even what she looked like," sanghyuck adds.

park sungho, the newest addition to their friend group, blinks, looking at dongmin, who's head is still in his hands.

"you were down bad, man," he muses and jaehyun on the side of him snorts.

"down bad doesn't even begin to describe it. it got to the point where we had 'girl in the red dress' and 'true love' jars because he would talk about her." jaehyun sighed, looking at dongmin pointedly. "he'd put enough money that we'd bought alc for the rest of freshman year. just in spring semester."

"that's what you get for trying to prove that you could drink a 4lokos without getting shitfaced," donghyun says, nose crinkling as he recalled the hours he had to spend making sure that dongmin wasn't going to die by choking on his own spit. "and he went and did it twice. it took us months to get to the point where we could invite this guy anywhere so as long as he swore not to bring her up again."

dongmin looks up, almost excitedly. "do you think that if i drink another 4lokos, we'll kiss at another party?"

sungho leans over, smacking him upside the head. "you're so fucking dumb. and i can tell just by these stories. you're not allowed to drink until season's over, idiot. and she's on your medical team. why don't you start by making a good impression while you're not so drunk you're going to start insisting that spongebob is hydrophobic."

("you were there when that happened?")

("you idiot, you thought i was spongebob. you kept throwing my drinks away because you thought i was going to disappear into them if i drank them. which makes no sense because that's not what hydrophobic means.")

("oh. sorry man.")

"yeah. just go to the med clinic tomorrow, apologize to her, and bring her flowers or something. women eat that shit up!" sanghyuk says with a mouthful of noodles and jaehyun nods, pointing his chopsticks at him excitedly.

"they do! my girlfriend always feels better with food and flowers," he says, cheeks stuffed to the brim with carbonara.

dongmin's mind races with all of the implications of doing so, but every single one of his thoughts fade away in light of the fact that he could redeem himself in your eyes. he slams his hands down on the table, swinging his legs over the bench to run to the nearest flower shop.

"i'll be back before practice!" dongmin calls out over his shoulder, waving a quick goodbye as he sprints towards the florists.

he makes it to the edge of the courtyard before he hears the yelling of his friends behind him, turning to see them waving at him (and waving some very rude fingers at him).

"YOU FORGOT YOUR WALLET, YOU IDIOT!"

+++

dongmin's friends were useless. absolutely useless.

he'd went and bought the prettiest bouquet of flowers he could find, a nice meal from his favorite bento place, and had even bought three different types of ice cream bars because he didn't know which one you'd like.

he'd walked right into the medical clinic office, his apology gifts all in hand, ready to apologize to you, redeem his honor, and become your own true love.

the last part probably wasn't going to work anyway, but the first two should've been foolproof.

instead, he manages to prove that he was a fool.

as it turns out, he wasn't the only person who thought that the flowers were beautiful; dongmin had managed to bring the queen bee as a secret surprise in the bouquet, which meant that the rest of her hive was NOT very happy that he'd committed royal kidnap, as far as the bees were concerned.

"HAN DONGMIN WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!" you yell from underneath your desk, where you were hiding from the sudden swarm of bees that had followed dongmin in.

he doesn't respond, too busy opening the window to drop the flowers out of, hesitating when he sees the number of people that were lounging around the courtyard that the medical office looked out of.

dongmin lines up the bouquet, sending a prayer to god (any one that would listen) as he shoots the best three he's ever shot in his life, so that the bouquet (and all of the bees that accompanied it) landed far away enough from people to prevent them from getting hurt.

of course, a few brave souls had stayed behind to exact revenge for their queen on dongmin, resulting in upwards of five bee stings, before dongmin finally evaded the great medical bee disaster once and for all.

he turns sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"i don't suppose i could find medical care in this clinic, could i?" he says, and he's well aware of the fact that he's flushed bright red, as he always seems to when he's made a fool of himself.

thankfully, there are only four or five people, including you, in the office to witness this disaster - although, dongmin can see the girl you were talking to yesterday surpressing a smile.

"yeah, of course you could. but we're all headed on break so unfortunately, y/n is the only person who's gonna be able to give you medical care. you know, since you've already brought lunch for her," your friend says with a knowing grin. she ushers the rest of the medical staff out of the office, closing the door behind her with a telltale click.

"you can come out from under the desk now," dongmin says, and despite the situation, he finds it adorable that in the case of a bee swarm, your first instinct had been to hide underneath a desk.

"i was going to," you grumble, slinking out from your hiding spot and dusting off invisible dust from your pants. "what were you thinking, bringing flowers with bees in them?"

dongmin blushes, tilting his head as he tries to look anywhere but where you were. "i wanted to apologize to you. in my defense, i kinda always thought bees were made up. i mean, they're so fat! there's no way they should be able to fly. that directly violates like every law of aviation in the world."

your eyebrow quirks upward as you look at the ice cream and lunch he had set down on your desk in his bee-induced panic. "i can't believe you're quoting the bee movie at me right now."

"i can't believe you know i'm quoting the bee movie. i should've known the love of my life was an internet connoiseur," dongmin says with a sigh, examining the bee stings on his arm. how did these bees even manage to crawl underneath the sleeves of his shirt?

"excuse me?" you bark, hands on your hips. "did you just call me the love of your life? when you couldn't even remember who i was like yesterday?"

"okay, wait. you don't understand. first, i need you to help me out by getting some ointment on these stings because they're starting to burn and i don't know if that's so normal. and then, i'll explain everything, trust me."

you reluctantly reach back into a cabinet that reads 'insect stings' and grab the kit for bee stings, pulling a cream out of it, beckoning dongmin to come closer so that you could treat it.

"do you remember what happened that night? or those two nights, i guess?" you ask softly, eyes trained on dongmin's arm so that you don't have to look him in the eyes and he nods.

"i remember. well, as much as i can, anyway. i was blackout drunk both times. and from what i remember, you weren't exactly sober either, so i don't know how you remember me but trust me, whatever you think about me is not true. i was - i was so down bad that my friends had to make a 'no y/n' jar!" dongmin yelps the last part when your hand on his arm presses a little too hard.

"i'm sorry! sorry!" you gasp, immediately leaning over to blow cool air on the place you'd accidentally put too much pressure. "what do you mean by a no 'no y/n' jar though? i thought you didn't remember my name."

"i didn't! and it killed me! i don't remember exactly what happened those nights but i remember how much i liked you. i remember thinking that i'd never meet a girl like you in my life. it still frustrates me that i lost your number - although, i do remember the part where you smacked me over the head the second time that we met. i think i suffered permanent brain damage from that.

"but i remember glimpses of that night. like that red dress you were wearing and how much you were rambling about stars. you were giving me an in-depth explanation about how black holes work and something about how rockets look like they're stuck in time in black holes. not the point. but the point is that i genuinely fell in love with you that first night we met.

"i've got this horrid habit though, when i get drunk - i become either super scared of water, or super infatuated with it. it's honestly a coin-toss. so imagine my feeling the next morning when i wake up with a dissolved piece of paper in my pocket that's supposed to have your number on it, semi-wet clothes, and a raging migraine.

"i thought i met the love of my life and i couldn't even remember her name, number, or even her face. it drove me and my friends absolutely nuts. me because i didn't know how to find you when i couldn't remember anything. my friends went insane because i would talk about you so much that they bought me those swear jars for every time i mentioned you.

"of course, i didn't know your name so you were just 'the love of my life' or 'girl in the red dress' but i think i dumped at least 300,000 won in those jars by the end of the semester. and then as if the universe was out to make my life living hell, we met again and i was shitfaced again. i swore to never touch a 4lokos after that, if that's any level of redemption.

"anyway. i brought you flowers and all this stuff because i wanted to tell you that - that i've liked you for a lot longer than even i've known! i remember most of the conversations that we had, even if i couldn't remember exactly who you were. when i saw you at the hospital, i genuinely thought i was falling in love at first sight. but i guess, that's kinda not true. cause that would be my third time falling in love at first sight."

"why, though? three times? i mean, i don't think i'm ugly or anything but three times? yeah, i mean i guess i kinda also had a thing for you after those two nights. god. i wish i remembered what we talked about for us to get this attached," you say, mumbling the last part. dongmin turns to you somewhat confused, watching you as you open up the bento box he'd bought you.

"you don't remember what we talked about? besides the black holes and stuff?"

"nope. but i've also got a horrible reputation amongst my friends for how much i talked about you. the worst part is that i remembered you but not what we talked about. it was so stupid because no one believed me that han dongmin, yonsei's point guard was the guy i'd had my heart for the past year." you instinctively smile the moment you take a bite of the food and even though it's so small, dongmin's heart swells with pride.

"why didn't you ever come up to me? i mean, this whole year of pining could've been avoided if you'd talked to me," dongmin says, accepting the ice cream bar you handed him. how the hell did you know that was his favorite ice cream?

"i gave you my number once, and i kissed you twice. i figured you were just ghosting me at some point if you weren't going to reach out to me. and besides, nursing really picked up right after basketball season so...i kinda just ended up torturing my friends for the past year," you say, somewhat sheepishly, but dongmin is barely even listening anymore.

after all, how many people can say that they fell in love at first sight with the same person three times?

"well. we're here now. will you go out with me? i promise i won't even touch a 4lokos!"

"deal. as long as you promise to tell me everything we talked about that night. i still can't tell why i fell so hard for you that i chased you down a basketball court in front of your whole team."

"my stellar looks? my killer smile? my stupidly handsome personality? my superb basketball skills?"

"try your stupid attraction to water molecules."

"i have a feeling i shouldn't have told you about that."

+++

freshman year, spring semester.

"really? you've never fallen in love before?" you ask incredulously. you and dongmin are sitting on the balcony of some random friend who decided to throw a party, feet dangling over the edges in between the bars.

"nah. i don't think so," dongmin says, leaning backwards on his palms. "i don't think i've ever met someone who's ever made me feel like my entire heart is their's to do whatever they want to do with."

"then let's play this game," you say, clumsily pulling out your phone. "that one thing on new york times, where you fall in love with someone within 36 questions."

"why? you want me to fall in love with you?" dongmin says, leaning over with a cheeky smile. you push him playfully, focused on trying to pull up the questions list.

"you'd do that whether i told you to or not," you fire back. "and besides, i think i'm a fantastic kisser. so you're probably already in love."

"you're right," dongmin says with a sigh. "i think i am."

freshman year, fall semester.

"question 36. i can't believe we never finished all the questions last time," you say. this time the two of you are sitting so close, dongmin can still taste the watermelon chapstick you're wearing. at this point though, dongmin might as well be the one wearing it.

"to be fair, last time i think we were otherwise preoccupied."

"get your mind out of the gutter!"

"i was talking about how many times you kept getting distracted by the dog."

"anyway. we're on question 36; are you in love with me yet?"

"i should be asking you that. i've been in love."

"han dongmin! i thought you weren't the superstitious type?"

"i'll be whatever you want me to be."

#jnnul #boynextdoor #bnd x reader #taesan x reader #bnd imagines #bnd fluff #taesan #bonedo #taesan fluff #taesan boynextdoor #taesan imagines #taesan bnd #bnd fic #boynextdoor fic #boynextdoor imagines

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stationintern · 2 days

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Hello my friends! I am late, but we won't mention it. April was a very busy month, but I managed to read way more than I've been able to the last few months, so I have a good selection for you. There's a couple rereads, a couple fics I put off reading for far too long, and a few that I found at the perfect time and devoured on sight.

Let's go!

Yours Truly by @skeptiquewrites for H/D Bodice Ripper Fest 2022 M, 14.8k

Every single one of Harry’s exes has gone on to marry the next person they date, and with the upcoming nuptials of numbers six and seven to each other, Harry’s feeling exhausted by it all. It doesn’t really matter if he lets people assume Draco Malfoy is his boyfriend for a moment of peace. In any case, Draco’s been away for five years and there’s no way he would find out, right?

I read this fic about a year ago, and I am so glad that I chose to revisit it this month. It is just so, so good. Endlessly hilarious, with a solid plot that is resolved neatly in 14 thousand words. I really love Harry here. His letters are so adorable. This aspect comes in later in this list as well, but I love when Draco is kind of a mysterious figure for a good chunk of a fic. The wondering, the anticipation. What kind of Draco will we meet this time? It's all very delicious.

Seeker's High by @corvuscrowned M, 40k

Harry Potter doesn’t expect to take up running years after the war ends; it just sort of happens. He also doesn’t expect that — as he fights tooth and nail to climb out of a post-war depression he didn’t realize he’d fallen into — he’ll end up running right into the arms of Draco Malfoy. A half angsty drama, half romcom of Harry working on himself, learning how to accept help from his friends, and falling in love with his childhood nemesis.

Another reread. This is one of those fics I've found myself periodically thinking about, mostly because it just feels so right. Harry's characterization in this is fascinating, and I really enjoyed watching his slow evolution as his relationships grow, both with running and with Draco. A unique premise that I really enjoyed and know I will revisit again.

Turn by Saras_Girl E, 306k

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

Okay, so, I'm not even gonna say anything. I put off reading this for way too long, and not knowing a single thing about this fic was probably the reason I devoured every chapter the way I did. Just know I was clawing at the walls.

Rookie Moves by peu_a_peu E, 75.3k

Aurors Potter and Malfoy crack the case.

Oh my fucking god. I have never in my life laughed out loud this many times while reading a fic. Truly, two dumb, horny assholes just trying to crack the case. But, behind all the side-splitting humor (and searingly hot sex) is a deep understanding of both characters that shines through and makes every moment hit so much harder. As in, they would fucking say that. Every single follow-up in the series is a banger, too. Thanks to @tackytigerfic for pointing those out to me!

Make This Leap by @oflights M, 118k

Harry owns a struggling restaurant which is running out of money, and his Head Chef has just handed in notice. He's at a bit of a loss as to what to do until Narcissa Malfoy presents an obvious solution: bring in Draco Malfoy as Chef and part owner. Harry does.

I relived four years of my life reading this fic. Both the good and the bad. Truly, a wonderful portrayal of the epic highs and lows of restaurant work. From personal drama to work-related catastrophes, this fic has it all. Like I said before, I love having to wait a bit to see Draco. I love hearing about him through the grapevine. I had so much fun reading this, and it was a treat to see these characters in an environment that I hadn't really envisioned them in before. Lovable (and punchable) side characters, a very stressed out Harry Potter, and a solid amount of health code infractions. Amazing.

See you at the end of May! xx, Moon.

#drarry #draco x harry #drarry fic rec #drarry fic #moon's monthly recs

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mochiwrites · 2 days

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an isal drabble based on @isjasz and @kunehokki's au and this ask ( content warning for blood and death <3 )

(Someone is screaming. You realize it’s your own voice.)

His head hurts, it aches as if it were splitting in two, his throat feels raw, blood spills on his chin. But he can’t stop, he can’t. He’s so close, he’s almost there. He can’t give up now, can’t allow the name of his home to slip away from him once again and leave him a wanderer with no anchor.

The King is right here, he can help. Together they can say the name of their home, they can–

(Your country!!! Your home!!! It’s gone, it’s gone, it’s gone!!!)

He can’t lose it, he needs to grasp it.

(You’ve never screamed this much before. So much of you hurts. Does any of it even matter?)

It was his. It was his!

(But you can’t even say it’s name. You can’t you can’t you can’t you can’t you can’t you–)

A sound breaks through the chaos of noise in his head, breaks through the agony gripping his body. It breaks through like some sort of light spilling in through dark storm clouds, just before the sun comes through.

Something, someone touches him. They grab him by the shoulders, and their hands burn – and yet they do not. Pleasant and gentle, calming and warm, but the contact makes Grian want to tear himself away. He thrashes and wriggles in their grip, yelling some unintelligible thing. It hurts it hurts ithurtsithurtsiTHURTSITHURTSITHURTS!

There’s a pressure against his cheek, one that causes Grian to still entirely. His head is still aching, still leaving him heaving with dry breaths from pain. His throat hurts, jaw aching from strain. But ever so slowly does he come back to himself, and it’s all because of the weight on his cheek. He leaves his country behind, lets it truly slip past his fingers like grains of sand, as he locks gazes with gentle looking eyes. He abandons ownership of his home in order to find his place in the lightless depths before him.

It’s Scar.

Scar’s hand is pressing into Grian’s cheek, holding it still.

(He’s… touching you? He’s willingly touching you?)

The other is looking at him with gentle eyes, the edges of his lips strained in a struggling smile. His thumb brushes along Grian’s cheekbone, “There you are, G.” His voice is soft, like a soothing melody.

(But…)

(Wait.)

There’s a trail of blood dripping down Scar’s chin.

Eye going wide, Grian slowly drags his stare down. He finds the front of Scar’s shirt bloody and slightly torn. What he also finds… is his dagger embedded in the other’s chest, his hand on the handle. Panic shoots down his spine, and it feels like the air in his lungs is being squeezed out. He trembles, but he can’t pull his hand away, can’t remove the dagger that’s actively causing Scar to bleed.

Scar, sweet Scar, tries to play it off, tries to smile at Grian like he isn’t dying from a stab to the heart. Like he isn’t dying at Grian’s hand. He laughs, a dribble of blood spilling over his lips, “Yeah, not m-my brightest moment, huh? Should’ve m-made sure you wouldn’t go swinging at me while f-freaking out.”

Grian can’t look away from him, family and enemy fading away from him. He hurt Scar.

“‘s alright though, G, I-I know you didn’t mean it.” Scar pulls his hand away from Grian’s cheek, and some disgusting part of Grian’s mind wants to cry for Scar to put it back, to touch him again.

Yet all he can manage to respond with a stutter, “S-Scar…”

“R-Really, it is!” Scar smiles, even as he wobbles forward. “I’d… rather it be the person I love… dealing the last blow…” He slumps over, head landing right on Grian’s shoulder, and Grian can feel the warm blood dropping on his hand. He uses his other arm to catch Scar, as if it’ll do much to help besides keep him from hitting the floor.

“Scar..?” he slowly asks, breath speeding up as it hitches roughly. “S-Scar?”

(You killed him.)

Did Scar… say he loved him? “Ah.” He shakes. He trembles. His breath is coming in too fast, too sharp, he can’t breathe. His hands tremor, he lets go of the dagger but it remains in Scar’s chest. Scar loved him. Scar loved him. Scar loved him and Grian killed him.

(You hear the raw scream that sounds from your voice.)

#in stars and lives #mochi writes #scarian #hermitshipping #got pulled into brain rotting whoopsies #jas and eirian. you two know what you did /silly /pos

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penkura · 2 days

Text

knowing [4/8]

Summary: Sanji knew you were the one the moment he met you.

Pairing: Sanji x Reader

Warnings: None really. Normal One Piece stuff I guess.

Note: Timeskip time! I do really gloss over Fishman Island yes, I just had to lol. Slightly shorter too, but longer chapters are coming up!

[Ch. 1] ● [Ch. 2] ● [Ch. 3]

Arriving back in Sabaody caused you to take a deep breath while you watched the various people from the shoreline. Finally, you were going to see your crew again, and though you had been so welcomed by the kunoichi village and were grateful to them, you couldn't wait to see your found family again.

You couldn't wait to see Sanji again.

Promising to keep in touch with your temporary home, you left the kunoichi who had brought you back to Sabaody and started making your way towards Shakky's bar, watching the vivre card in your hand to keep you from getting lost.

Every now and then though, you'd catch sight of blond hair and have to do a double take, making sure you weren't completely passing by Sanji, only to be fully disappointed when you saw it wasn't him. You'd even see people with orange and blue hair, wondering if it was Nami or Franky, once again disappointed to see it wasn't either of them.

You were, however, beyond excited once you finally saw one of your crewmates, shouting to them and running to hug them.

“Robin!!”

You threw your arms around her while Robin laughed and greeted you. You were the first person she'd seen as well, having the same problem where she saw people that looked like your other crewmates but weren't them.

“I wonder who else might be here.” You thought aloud while walking with Robin to Shakky's bar, anxious to see the rest of your crew.

“Well, Brook is definitely here. He's hosting a concert.”

“Oooh yeah! I've got one of his TDs, it's not bad,” you grinned a bit at the thought, “think he'd sign it for me?”

“I'm sure he'd be delighted to.”

You both laughed a bit, before you saw another head of blond hair, stopping and turning quickly to see if it was him. When you saw it wasn't, your shoulders slumped and Robin gave you a smile.

“Looking for someone?”

You were quite obvious about it, even you knew that.

So you turned back around, smiled, and linked your arm with Robin's before continuing onward.

“Just the love of my life.”

You and Robin laughed, despite you're being serious, talking about your two years apart on your way to Shakky's. You'd see Sanji soon, whether once you got back to Sunny or while you were on Sabaody.

You'd see him soon.

+!+

"What, the moss head was the first one here?!"

Shakky laughed and nodded at Sanji's surprise. "Franky arrived ten days ago, but left to go check your ship."

Duval bragged about how he and his crew protected Sunny, while Rayleigh reassured Sanji his coating job was perfect, the Sunny was fine, and you'd all be able to leave for Fishman Island as soon as you were ready. Ignoring Duval, Sanji was more than glad to hear Nami had made it to Sabaody and had gone shopping a few days ago, then Usopp arrived three days prior, and Chopper did so as well, while Brook had a concert that day. The only ones left had been himself, Luffy, Robin, and of course, you.

Hearing you hadn't arrived yet slightly concerned Sanji, he'd expected you to arrive much sooner, maybe even before Zoro, but definitely before you all were mentally scheduled to meet up. He knew you'd be fine, he trusted you and knew how strong you were, but still Sanji was worried your ride to Sabaody may have been late. Luffy would never leave without everyone there, but it sure would be easier if you had a way to communicate that you were near.

"Have you…heard from [Y/N]...maybe?"

Smiling slightly, Shakky shook her head no and watched as Sanji slumped down a bit hearing that. "Sadly no, I haven't heard from your girlfriend."

"W-What. How–"

"You aren't exactly subtle with that lovesick look on your face, young man."

She laughed a bit at him, watching as Sanji stood up from the bar and excused himself, saying he was going to search for ingredients to stock up the Sunny's fridge for when you all left. The whole time his face was bright red and Shakky knew she had guessed right. You and Sanji were practically hanging off each other the whole time you were in Sabaody two years ago, she just knew you were together from the little bit of time you'd been around.

"What a lovestruck cutie."

+!+

"Was that…Sanji?"

"Where?!"

Smiling at your antics, Robin let you hide behind her and look around for your lover, although she wasn't entirely sure why you were hiding. She knew the two of you were together and in love, maybe you were just nervous about not seeing him in two years. You had ended up cutting your hair while you were training, deciding it would be better for fighting. You had changed your outfit to a well fitted tank top and loose, knee length shorts with your basic ninja sandals (like from Naruto ok). You were sure Sanji would love your new look, but it made you nervous to think about seeing him again.

Hopefully the two years apart hadn't made him rethink your relationship or anything.

"Rayleigh, Shakky!"

"Aah, Robin and [Y/N], you're both here!"

Robin nodded while you stepped out from behind her and waved.

"You both just missed Sanji."

"Oh, how unfortunate." Looking over at you, Robin gave you a knowing smile and you did the same, your nerves calming down just a bit. You may have missed out on seeing him just then, but maybe it was for the better. You two would see each other again soon enough, more than likely unable to stay away from each other or keep your hands to yourselves (not in a sexual way you pervs) for a while once you did see each other.

You and Robin stayed for a bit to catch up with Rayleigh and Shakky, thanking Duval and his crew for their help in protecting Sunny as well as they could, before the two of you decided to separate for a bit. Robin would head right for Sunny, but you wanted to do some shopping for some clothes and to maybe find Sanji. When you were in Sabaody last, you'd barely had a chance go look at the vendor stalls before the events with Camie and the Celestial Dragons, and then being sent off like the rest of your crew of course, you didn't have much of a chance to shop around and find anything you wanted.

You ended up buying a mini transponder snail and a few clothing items, deciding you should start heading towards Sunny when you saw a vendor selling kunai and shuriken, and you were instantly drawn in. You were running low on funds, but desperately wanted some new knives to use for any upcoming fights. You were so engrossed in looking and working out the math in your head on how many you could afford, that you nearly jumped three feet when someone wrapped an arm around you and told the vendor to let you get whatever you wanted.

If you hadn't recognized the voice, though slightly deeper than you remembered, and the smell of tobacco mixed with a familiar cologne, you would have whipped around and punched the guy in the face before placing a knife at his neck. Instead you turned around so quickly, coming face to face with the one person you'd been so anxious yet excited to see again.

"Sanji."

"Hey there, beautiful." Sanji gave you a smile and brushed a bit of your hair out of your face, noticing you were tearing up. "I've been looking for you!"

"Sanji!!" You threw your arms around his neck, letting him lift you up and spin you around while you cried out of happiness. "I-It's you! You're r-really here!!"

"Of course I am! Couldn't leave you with that moss head to get lost or anything!"

Once he set you back down, you got to take a good look at Sanji and see how he'd changed over the last two years as well. He'd swapped his bangs from the left to the right, he'd grown out his goatee more, and even had a mustache now. Even if he still looked exactly the same as two years ago, you'd still think he was handsome and be in love with him.

Of course, Sanji still thought you were beautiful, he'd even say drop dead gorgeous now. He didn't have the chance to tell you so before you kissed him and hugged him again.

"I missed you so much."

"I missed you too, love," Sanji hugged you close, thankful that his two years of hell and running on the Kamabakka Queendom were finally over, and that he was back with you in his arms, "you have no idea how much."

+!+

After all of you were finally together again, you and Nami had spent so much time hugging and giggling over the boys being themselves, once you began your course down to Fishman Island, all you really wanted was to stay near Sanji. Knowing you were going to the land of mermaids, it worried you a little that Sanji might start rethinking your relationship, considering you were apart for two years.

You couldn’t have imagined that your crew would be separated once again, so quickly due to the volatile nature of the ocean depths. Waking up in Camie’s place a short while later, you were glad to see Luffy, Usopp, Chopper, and Sanji were all with you, being escorted elsewhere by your friend, until you met more mermaids who were close with Camie.

Sanji tried, he really did, to not let it get to him, especially with you around, to not fall over himself around the mermaids, unfortunately, despite it all, he still ended up nearly bleeding out from all the other pretty girls around. You chose to stay with him and Chopper after he’d been given a blood transfusion to keep him from dying, and once he woke up, Sanji was almost on the floor in front of you apologizing.

“I’m so sorry, my love! I’m such a fool of a man!”

“Uh, Sanji—”

“Please forgive me!! I love you more than anything!!”

Before he’s able to say much else, you take his face in your hands and shut him up with a kiss, allowing you both to get your thoughts straight before you say anything in response to his groveling. Honestly though, he should know you better by now.

“I’m not happy about the situation—”

“I’m so sor—”

“But, I’m not going to be mad at you anymore. You’ve apologized enough and I believe you’re really sorry,” you give Sanji a smile, before rubbing your nose against his and making his face turn bright red at the affection, “I’m sure you went through a lot while we were apart, so I’ll give you a pass this time.”

“Mon amour, you’re the only one I love that much.”

“Yeah, I know, so if you do that again, I’ll have to clean my kunai.”

“…oh.”

You laughed a bit at Sanji’s reaction, which made him relax and smile in return, before he kissed you again.

“I swear, you’re the only one for me.”

“And the same for me, cutie.”

+!+

After you’ve all helped to put a stop to Hordy Jones and Luffy prevented the ship Noah from destroying Fishman Island, you’re glad for a reprieve that turns into a party with food and drinks. Every member of your crew, all the Fishmen that can fit in the palace, had a blast and the party continued on for so long that you and Sanji had to step away for a few minutes alone.

Somehow, luckily, you found an empty closet that you could sneak into, finally getting some time alone after everything that happened. You started out just talking and holding each other, before Sanji started kissing you all over your face and making you giggle, every now and then quieting yourself if you heard footsteps. You were still trying to keep your relationship a secret, so Sanji understood you silencing your giggles for a moment wasn’t because of him, it was to keep someone from opening the door.

“Hey,” Sanji kissed your cheek again, smiling at your giggle while you gave him a questioning look, “What if…what if we told everyone?”

“Hm?”

“About us. I mean, its been a while and part of the crew knows already.”

“Sanj—”

“Only if you want to!” He kissed you again to make sure you knew he wasn’t going to force you to tell everyone if you weren’t ready. “We can wait until you want to, I just—”

“Sanji,” you have to take his face in your hands to make him stop before he rambles too much, forcing him to look at you as you smile at him, “I think it’s fine if we tell everyone. We’re both in this for the long haul, I don’t think they have to worry about us making things weird by breaking up or anything.”

“You’re sure?”

“Mm-hm!” You nod and give him another kiss, causing Sanji to hug you tightly. He really was a little worried you’d reject the idea, but if you tell everyone, it’ll make it easier. You won’t have to sneak around and keep everything to yourselves.

“I love you so much!”

“I love you too, Sanji!” You giggle when he starts to kiss you face again. Sanji really is the sweetest man you’ve ever met, you feel so lucky to have him as your boyfriend, maybe future husband and father to your children one day, if he wants that with you too.

Unfortunately you’re interrupted when someone opens the closet door, and the sigh is familiar enough that you feel your face heating up.

“Can you two stop being gross for one day?”

“Zoro!” You shouted while Sanji pulled away from you to give a glare to your swordsman. “What are you doing?!”

“I was looking for the bathroom!”

“This obviously isn’t it!!”

#one piece x reader #reader insert #sanji x reader #blackleg sanji x reader #knowing fanfic #fem!reader #black leg sanji x reader

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hotpinkstars · 19 hours

Note

Since we all love crumbs of angst every now and then:

Boothill being a dad is kinda bittersweet on it's own given his past.

But what if-

He lost his s/o due to labor complications. Another person on the list of people he lost out of nowhere.

LOSS - boothill x reader

- you pass away giving birth to your child.

- hi guys im sick 🤒 and i feel like i'm going to pass out but i decided to write 👍 this ask broke me but i just had to write it and i have no regrets... guys i was gonna write angst anyway but this one. this.

- major character death, hurt no comfort, written by someone who has never had a baby or been pregnant, pre-cyborg boothill wc 863

You have reached your due date, leaving both you and Boothill on your toes.

You’ve have a specifically rough pregnancy in itself, being horribly sick in the middle of it, really bad pain for the majority of it, and you were absolutely ready to get this baby out of you.

It pained Boothill to see you in so much agony, so he wishes the same, too. There's only so much he can do when it comes to how painful and hard your pregnancy was.

So, when he was awoken to moaning and the sight of you leaning up against the headboard at around 2 in the morning, he was excited, but also really nervous. If your pregnancy was harsh, how bad would your labor be?

When you saw him wake up, you immediately gripped his arm, holding onto it for dear life before he could even register the situation unfolding before him. Tears were streaming down your face, little gasps and moans coming from your chapped lips every once in a while.

“What’s going on?” He asked, groggy and barely capable of opening his eyes. You fall into his embrace, crying lightly into his shoulder.

“It hurts,” you manage to choke out, trying to get as much air in and out as you can.

“Is it baby time?” He sat up, a glimmer in his now wide eyes. You nod, clutching his shoulders and leaning back into the pillow. At the same time he was excited, he was also indescribably nervous. He wasted no time in readying himself to take you to the hospital.

He ran around your shared ranch, preparing everything possible after helping you walk to the couch so you were in a less stuffy space. He draped a light blanket over your form, occasionally sitting with you while you’re fighting a contraction.

He got you to the hospital alright, which was a success in his eyes. The only thing he couldn’t do was take your pain away, and it pulled at his heart in a horrible way. The amount of “‘M sorry, sugar,” he whispered on the way to the hospital would be more than countable on both hands.

So now, with you in the nurses hands, all he had to do was help you through contractions, and wait until his baby was born.

He was confident in your abilities to give birth to a healthy baby, and he was also confident in your capabilities of rebounding from the birth. That was, until your pulse dropped.

Thankfully, a nurse was checking how dilated you were, and noticed your breathing pattern was very… labored. He understood something was wrong when she stopped midway through checking you to come up to give you an oxygen mask, and telling you to breathe before frantically finding other nurses. While a bunch of professionals crowd around you, someone pulls him aside.

“You’re the husband, yes?” The nurse asked, sitting down to type away on a keyboard. He nodded, fidgeting with his fingers while he rested his forearms on top of the counter.

“Is she gonna be alright?” He asked, some uncertainty laced within his accent, making it thicker.

The nurse hesitated and stumbled over her words. “I’m not entirely sure,” she managed to get out, crushing the cowboys' already strained heart. “You saw her state, and we're certainly going to have to perform a c-section. She’s much too weak for a vaginal birth.”

He nodded slowly. “When do I get to see her again?”

“You can now if you want to. There's just going to be a lot of nurses in there, that's all.”

So in the room he goes. He doesn’t want to miss out on anything, even if you’re extremely unstable and barely breathing. He walks in and kneels right by the side of your head, watching as your eyes crack open in the slightest, smiling through your oxygen mask.

“You’ll be alright, sugar,” he whispered before kissing your forehead. “It’ll all be alright.”

Famous last words.

You, for a matter of fact, were not alright. You could barely even keep your eyes open as they hand Boothill your baby. They were bloodshot, and very exhausted. As nurses were trying to stitch you up, your vision turned to black.

They escorted Boothill and your child out of the room and into a separate room as they try to help you once more. But nothing was working. Your heart had stopped beating, and the oxygen mask was no longer necessary.

When the news was broken to Boothill, he instantly broke down. A nurse took the baby into a separate part of the unit so she could be properly treated, and he rushed back over to your room with tears flooding his eyes to see if he could catch one final glimpse of you.

You were deathly pale, laying stiff on the bed, no life left in your body. He once again started to break down before being told to head home for the night, to get as much rest as he could and to come back in the morning.

Well, he was a father, but his daughter no longer had the mother she deserved.

#honkai star rail #hsr #boothill #boothill hsr #boothill honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #boothill x reader #tw pregnancy #angst #death

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my-castles-crumbling · 23 hours

Text

Hello my loves! A few little…announcements, I guess? Regarding asks/advice

Basically, I love you all, and please know you’re never bothering me. However, the volume of like…advice-related asks has gotten exponentially bigger lately. I love that you all feel safe to come to me and please still do so! But I feel like setting a goal of getting back to every advice ask within 24 hours has become kind of detrimental to my own mental health and my IRL relationships. So I have to make some changes.

From now on, I’ll be answering five advice-related asks a day. If I end up wanting to do more I might, but all I can promise is five.

(I’ll still answer other asks as well (ask game asks, silly things people send, questions about myself) and I won’t count them towards that number. Please continue to send love, happiness, silly things! They make my day!)

If you send a general (not personal) advice ask that I’ve gotten a lot (writing advice, for example). I’m going to start adding an FAQ to my pinned post. I’ll answer those asks and then put them in the FAQ. If someone asks again, I’ll direct them there. It’s not because I don’t love you all, it’s just because I want to help the most people possible.

Please don’t take this as a “don’t send me asks anymore” thing. I love helping you guys and like…selfishly, asks make me feel so special. I love that you all trust me enough to talk to me, and helping you guys has really helped my confidence, too. But I think I do need to be a role model a bit and set a boundary of balancing this with my own health.

Please also understand that I’m a bit nervous doing this. I don’t want anyone to be upset or take this the wrong way. I don’t want to ruin the safe space here and I’m so scared people will be mad at me or think I’m mad at them. So I’m trying to be honest about my feelings!

Lastly, if you are in a crisis, remember that my pinned post has a crisis help line. I would hate to think someone is waiting for a response from me and does something regrettable because of that.

I love you all so much and I’ll be back tomorrow!

#asks #ask #advice #helping #anons #mental health #love you guys #love my moots

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addsalwayssick · 2 days

Text

When Remus awoke, he felt an unfamiliar pain on his face. He was used to pain everyone else, but never really on his face. He looked his side, and his long term, and also goregous crush, Sirius Black, was asleep at his bed side.

Remus touched his face lightly, where the pain was and felt his heart rate spike because no, this could not be happening. He prided himself in the fact that his already ugly face didn’t have a scar, but there one was. He glanced at a sleeping Sirius, who had probably already seen the scar. Remus started to panic. Sirius probably already thought he was ugly, but now what would he think of Remus?

Remus felt himself choke, and knew he had to get out of that room with a knocked out Sirius. He slowly got out of the cot, and he walked quickly to his dorm, locking himself in the bathroom. He didn’t really know what time is was, but he knew that everyone would be at classes. Remus doesn’t know how long he sobbed. He just knows that there were guttural sobs coming from his gut, gasping noises as he thought about how Sirius wasn’t even gay, but thought he was ugly. Even when Sirius called him perfect and beautiful, he knew now that it wouldn’t even matter.

After maybe an hour or two, he wiped his teary eyes and faced the mirror. It was worse than he thought. The scar spanned from his eyebrow to his lip, causing Remus to let out another choked sob. He heard a soft knock on the door followed my a soft voice. “Remus? It’s Sirius,” Sirius spoke from the other side of the door.

“Go away,” Remus choked. His heart clenched painfully, because why did Sirius have to be nice to him?

“Did I do something?” Sirius asked, too soft and kind for what Remus knew he was thinking on the inside. “Remus please let me in.”

Remus breathed deeply, knowing Sirius would stay until Remus came out. He opened the door carefully, sliding back to the bathroom floor, hiding his face.

Sirius, who at only 14 years old, stood tall and proud, had such worry and fear in his eyes. Remus had never seen it before. He looked through his fingers at Sirius.

Sirius dropped to his knees to look at Remus. “Remus what happened?”

Remus slowly uncovered his face, showing the scar and exposing it to the cold air. “Oh Remus,” Sirius gasped.

Remus put his face back in his hands and sobbed. “Get out, get out, please get out,” Remus sobbed hard.

Sirius waited until Remus lifted his tear stained, red and puffy face to look at him. “I’m sorry, I know i’m ugly, please just go away.”

Sirius looked at him funnily. “Remus…”

“What?” Remus snapped.

Sirius didn’t answer, but instead kissed him softly on the lips. It only lasted maybe a second, if that, and Remus still believes it, even 60 years later when they’re old and gray, that it was the best day of his life.

“What?” Remus asked softly. Sirius grimaced.

“God, i’m sorry Remus. I know you’re not queer or whatever it’s called, but I just-“

Remus just hugged him and sobbed. “You don’t think i’m ugly?”

“Remus you’re the least ugly person i’ve ever seen. You’re beautiful”

Remus shook his head. “You’re lying.”

Sirius looked heartbroken at his accusation. “Remus, i’m not. You’re amazing. And even the scar looks sick- like you fought a dragon or something.”

Remus sobbed harder, but not because he was sad anymore. Remus really didn’t deserve Sirius. But everyday, until the day they died, Sirius reminded Remus of how much Sirius didn’t deserve Remus.

ugh sirius is such a pookie in this guys. forcing the tall strong pookie sirius agenda onto all of you (forcing all agendas onto you i’m a pathological liar boooooo) meow <3

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idkwhatever580 · 2 days

Text

Her pt. 2

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Prompt: after y/n gets rescued what is in store in the next chapter of her life with Natasha?

Warnings: cursing

Pronouns: she/her

A/N: I’m super excited about this one. Make sure you read chapter one first so you have some insight on how nat and y/n met!!! I hope y’all like it :)))

Here’s part one :))) I’m working on a master list I swear -> https://www.tumblr.com/idkwhatever580/749750524015984640/her-pt-1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n’s pov

I cannot believe it’s been a whole year since I met Natasha.

She and the avengers immediately took me in and I found myself going over to the compound much more than I expected.

I still have my house in Long Island. But I never stay there really anymore. Ever since Natasha and I started dating I haven’t spent too much time there.

It only took three months for me to virtually move in with her. Although I do wish she’d come with me sometimes.

But I don’t really worry about that since one of the floors in the tower is my new soup kitchen. It’s open twenty four hours a day and there are at least 2-6 people working there at all times.

As promised Tony Stark and SHEILD helped me get my business up and running.

I make homes for the homeless. Sometimes they are bigger more communal homes and sometimes they are tiny one or two person homes.

My first two homes are side by side. They were for gran and pops. They were always my biggest supporters and still are.

My program has changed so many lives. There are so many people out there who just need a little bit of love.

Sometimes the homeless people will use the homes as a forever home but most often they get jobs. Become more financially stable and independent and then they will move out. It’s really great. Because I see so many people I’ve helped become something. Someone.

There are so many who have told me they thought they would never amount to anything. And a few of them have become very successful even as far as becoming a CEO.

I am incredibly proud of my work.

And honestly it’s so exciting to see what changes I can make every single day.

For example. Today is the release date of my nationwide program.

All over the country a program is being launched where homeless people can find shelter, rehabilitation centers, and other necessities for free so they can have a second chance at life. I am doing some interviews today.

Unfortunately Natasha isn’t here. She has a mission. I’m a little sad that she won’t be with me tonight as the program launches but the show must go on.

I check my watch and see it is time to leave for the opening ceremony and I go downstairs to find Happy.

I smile and say

“What’s up Happy! Are you ready?”

He smiles sadly and says

“Yes I am ready. But I must inform you that I am only your chauffeur tonight. Unfortunately I cannot be your plus one.”

I frown when he says this because he was supposed to fill in for Natasha and now I have nobody.

“Oh. Well. That’s okay!”

I smile and cover up my disappointment. He drives me to the red carpet and helps me out. I kiss his cheek accidentally leaving a lipstick stain and I say

“Thank you. Have a good night Happy.”

He usually goes home and I have a different driver drive me home.

I walk to the red carpet by myself and put on my best smile. I make it about halfway through the carpet and an arm snakes around me and this mystery person says

“Am I late?”

“Oh!”

I jump and put my hand to my chest and I look at my beautiful girlfriend with a huge smile on my face and I say

“Jesus! You scared me!”

My brain doesn’t even register that she’s back since I’m in the zone and then I do a double take and say

“Wait! What!?”

She giggles when I realize and I slap her chest and say

“I thought you were at a mission?!”

She chuckles and says.

“I got off early enough to make it. That’s why Happy isn’t here with you. I tried my best. But I couldn’t get the best suit”

She looks down at her suit and I look her up and down and say

“You look amazing baby. Perfect right here with me.”

I smile and give her a kiss. We always wear matching lipstick colors so that we can kiss and not get it messed up.

Then I put my hand on her chest and we keep taking pictures.

The rest of the night goes smoothly and I give a speech. I talk to a few people who have helped my journey and then we head home.

I get changed and wait in bed for Natasha. She takes a while so I complain

“Nattyyy”

She comes out of the bathroom and smiles and says

“Yes baby?”

I hold my arms out for her and pout

“I missed you”

She gets into bed with me and says

“I missed you too.”

Once we’re comfy she looks me in the eyes and says

“Goodnight my love. You have done such amazing things for so many people and I am so lucky to be yours.”

I smile and say

“I love you baby. Goodnight”

We kiss and drift off into a nice comfortable sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: guys this is so bad. It feels rushed and blah. Idk how I feel about it. I became so unmotivated and just wanted to move on to the next thing but I didn’t want to just leave it. 😭🔫

#avengers #marvel #fanfic #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader

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cannedpickledpeaches · 2 days

Text

The Drive Home

Floyd Leech x Reader

Notes: Haven’t finished the side stories for Insert Your Name so here’s some Floyd angst while you wait.

Somehow or the other, over the years, you’ve become Floyd’s designated driver.

You’re good friends, so of course you go to the same parties. You don’t drink, so of course he needs someone reliable and sober to take him home . . . if he isn’t going home with a new friend. The latter happened often enough in university that you only showed up to events when he was too hammered to leave with anyone else.

You never bothered to learn about his more personal life. It wouldn’t be too weird to ask—he’s happy to volunteer information unprompted, regardless—but you simply aren’t interested. You’re his childhood friend. It would feel almost gross to like him when his parents’ home welcomes you as warmly as your own. Jade and Floyd are just like your annoying brothers, that’s all.

You’re also really good at convincing yourself.

When you were young and fueled by emotion in high school, you constantly dreamed about Floyd if he was the perfect boyfriend. One who was attentive, fun, and loyal. One who would treat you as someone special, who would never get bored and cast you aside. One who would devote his entire being to you.

Maturing is realizing that’s just not Floyd. And you can respect that. Maturing is understanding that no matter how much your heart likes him, that fairytale prince you conjured in your daydreams with his face doesn’t exist. Maturing is realizing just because you like him doesn’t mean he’s good for you.

But you still like him. You tried, but you can’t change that.

Neon letters flicker and cast their light over the interior of your car as you wait in the driver’s seat. After graduating from university, he moved on from frat parties to clubs. Even while parked by the curb, you can hear the booming music thrumming in your steering wheel. The bass pulses like a second heartbeat.

A tall silhouette stumbles to the door on the passenger side. Neon pinks and purples from the sign behind him light up the flyaways in his messy hair. When he opens the door, the stench of alcohol crashes into you the same way he crashes into the seat. The cologne swirling around in the headache-inducing miasma doesn’t help in the slightest.

“You stink.” To alleviate your nostrils, you roll the windows down. The muted music transitions into a different song with the exact same beat. “I’m thinking about kicking you out and making you walk home.”

“Don’t do that, s’not nice.” His words sound as though his tongue has lost half its flexibility. “Ya’ve got your best friend in your car! Would never dream of doin’ somethin’ so mean, wouldya?”

“If you throw up over the seats, I’m kicking you out. Too bad my best friend isn’t worth cleaning up whatever’s in your stomach right now.”

“Won’t throw up.” His snicker ends in a groan. It takes him several tries to secure his seatbelt. “Fuck. Feel like the world’s spinnin’.”

You pull out a plastic bag from the glove compartment and shove it in his lap.

For a good stretch of the drive, he’s content with humming to himself. You don’t play music in case it makes his headache worse. He makes enough noise to fill the car anyway. His off-tune humming switches through several melodies, some you recognize, some you don’t.

The humming fades into silence. At a stop light, you glance at Floyd to make sure he’s okay. His eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones. You think he’s asleep until his eyes flash open and he gives you a grin.

“Eyes on the road.”

“Just making sure you didn’t kick the bucket.” You catch a glimpse of a red stain on the right side of his Adam’s apple. Your gut twists unpleasantly. “If you’re gonna sleep, turn your face to the right.”

“Why? Y’don’t wanna see my handsome face or what?”

You look forward as the light turns green. “No, you told me to keep my eyes on the road. I just don’t want you transferring those lipstick stains onto the seats.”

“Ain’t gotta be salty that you don’t get laid.” You don’t need to look at him to hear the grin in his voice.

“That’s because I have standards.”

“Like what?”

“Something higher than ‘has a hole.’”

He clicks his tongue playfully. “Jealousy ain’t cute on ya.”

You’re aware. Painfully so. Jealousy feels ugly, gnarled, like a twisting mess of poisoned vines reaching insidious tendrils through your veins. They eventually follow your veins back to your heart, squeezing its walls with every lipstick stain you see on his skin. The wish to possess, to confine him in your clutches when the thing he hates above all others is to be tied down—that isn’t cute in the slightest.

Maturing is keeping the worst thoughts inside. A mature adult like you won’t throw a tantrum or cry dramatically in front of him. No, a mature adult like you can do that in the privacy of your room.

“What’s cute on me, then?” You swallow hard. He won’t remember this conversation by tomorrow. Probably. Not when there are so many other, more interesting conversations from the club to remember.

Awkward silence fills the car. Your fingers leave sweat on the steering wheel. Focusing on the road might help distract you from the odd pause from his ever-present noise.

“Your hands.”

You very nearly step hard on the gas by accident. You weren’t expecting an answer at all, much less this one.

“Why? Is that a fetish, or . . . .”

He barks a laugh. “Nah, who knows?”

“Ew. I’ll kick you out.” Both of you know you won’t. If you’re being honest, you’re a little flattered that he thinks your hands are cute, even if it’s in a platonic way. “Why my hands?”

“Dunno. Just the part of ya I was lookin’ at when y’asked.”

Now that’s an odd answer. At a stop light, you look at him again. His sleepy eyes meet yours, and a lazy grin tugs at the corners of his lips.

“I told you to face your right.”

“Right, right.” He sticks his tongue out, but doesn’t oblige. “How’m I s’posed to give ya a proper answer when I’m not s’posed to look atcha?”

“You can’t think of cute things about me if you aren’t looking at me?” You scoff, turning onto a side street. Almost there. “Think of me in your head or something.”

“My head can’t do ya justice.”

Your heart almost skips a beat. Almost. Because you think of all the other people he’s said those words to. All of a sudden, you feel much less special.

Childhood friends. Maturing is understanding that is all you are, and that is all you will ever be, and that you will never, ever be in a relationship with Floyd Leech unless you want it to come crashing down in infinitesimal pieces.

“I like your eyes, too. Always lyin’.” He laughs. “The eyes of a liar, that’s what ya got. But I like them more this way.”

“Doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

“Well, it is.” His chuckles fade into the ambient rumbling of the car for a few moments before he starts rambling. “I like your laugh, too. And the way ya come to pick me up even when ya complain. And when ya scoff when I do somethin’ nice for ya, but it doesn’t take a genius to tell you’re happy anyway. And your nose when it scrunches up. It gets red when it’s cold.”

“Most people’s noses get red when it’s cold.” You choose to ignore everything else he said.

“Not mine.”

“Most humans.”

It’s the novelty that attracts him. You’d have thought that after living with humans all this time, the novelty of flushed skin would have worn off, but it’s hard to tell with Floyd.

“Wouldya like me more if I was human?”

His voice is nearly lost in the humming of the car. You keep your eyes straight ahead. Vaguely, you wish there was more traffic in this side street. Something to keep your mind off the odd vulnerability in his voice.

“I like you the most the way you are,” you say, and it’s the truth. No matter what he is, human or mer or otherwise, you like Floyd as himself. You’ve fallen in love with a natural disaster, and you only barely have enough sense not to throw yourself in the midst of it. The winds would shred you apart. You desperately struggle against the part of your mind that whispers: at least you would have had it once before being destroyed.

But you’re older and more mature now. You won’t indulge that emotional side of you.

You stop outside his home and put the car in park. “We’re here. Get out of my car.”

A mix between a groan and a whine drags itself out of his throat. The alcohol might be making him woozy, but he can walk to his door just fine. You won’t need to help him anymore than this.

He unfastens his seatbelt and leans over to you. The hug he gives you is so uncoordinated, it feels like he’s simply throwing his weight onto you, his arms flopping uselessly.

“Thanks,” he says a little too loudly for his mouth to be next to your ear. “See ya ‘round.”

“Don’t ask me to pick you up again.”

“Ya say that every time.” He laughs again. Laughter always hides just under his tongue when he drinks. “Ya still come when I call.”

“I won’t anymore.” You don’t mean it.

He waves off your remark and plants a sloppy kiss on your cheek. You stiffen, but you’re sure he’s too drunk to notice. With a boisterous farewell, he stumbles out of your car and disappears beyond his front door, leaving the ghost of his kiss on your skin.

You hate being a mature adult. If you weren’t, maybe you would’ve called after him. You might’ve rolled down the window all the way and pulled on his collar, yanking him close enough to kiss him on the lips. Consequences be damned, caution to the wind, whatever else they say about being young and reckless. But you’re a mature adult, and the best you can do for both of you is watch as he leaves.

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst x reader #twst fanfic #floyd leech #twst floyd #floyd leech x reader #older au

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