#my very first thoughts about turtleneck was right

[justhereforthemeta]

Romantic expectations and the story we didn't see: A magic trick hiding in plain sight

Here's a hopeful meta for all my fellow celestial brainrot sufferers out there. Cheers! :)

This idea started as a dead end, trying to track the movements of Crowley’s sideburns/tattoo because I thought time travel shenanigans were afoot. I had to abandon that theory when it was pointed out that David was simultaneously filming as the sideburns-having Fourteenth Doctor, and in-universe Crowley can do whatever he wants with his facial hair whenever he feels like it. But hey - null findings are still findings!

On the bright side, pausing the show to make notations in a spreadsheet forced me to slow down and notice other changes I'd overlooked the first time around: acting choices, costuming choices, references to book lore. And possibly a few surreptitious flicks of the wrist, in places where we’re meant to be focused on the magician’s other hand.

@amuseoffyre and @ineffablefood had a great exchange recently about romance and “the significance of misdirection and three-in-one (magic) tricks” throughout the show. I suspect Neil has done something brilliant with the audience’s long-standing expectations (since the 1990s, really) for the love story between Crowley and Aziraphale to develop. And while it is a wonderful story indeed, playing to this expectation lets Neil distract his audience from the blink-and-you'll-miss-them seeds he's planting for the final chapter.

Continued below the cut...

Let’s start at the beginning of Episode 2. First, context: In the previous installment, Crowley stormed out of the bookshop, was whisked away to Hell by Beelzebub where he learns about the Book of Life threat to Aziraphale’s existence, then returned to the bookshop to dance a little apology dance and hide Gabriel with an unintentionally massive joint miracle. In S2E2, we and Shax catch up with Crowley as he's snoozing in the Bentley.

Shax: “You’re in trouble”

A. J. Crowley, cool as a cucumber: “Obviously. Former demon, hated by Heaven, loathed by Hell. How will our hero cope?”

Interesting! Sarcastic? Yes, absolutely; but that’s also a good 4500 years and an averted apocalypse away from “I’m a demon. I lie,” wouldn’t you say? Someone is sounding a whole lot less depressed and aimless and navel-gazey (do snakes have navels?), and a whole lot more like he’s got a project to focus on, since his "what's the point?" ruminations on the park bench in E1.

And of course we all noticed the costume change right away. Hello, black turtleneck. Feeling cute today, thought I’d cover up my graceful long neck? That sounds unlikely. Let’s put a pin in this one.

There’s also an interesting acting choice going on here. Crowley speaks to Shax in a funny, drawling, too-cool-for-you voice that we haven’t heard in a while. Specifically, not since 1967. If you go back and give the S1E3 scene in the Dirty Donkey a listen, you’ll hear it (and if you know of another instance of it that I've missed, please let me know!). In S2E2, he keeps up this odd voice (if anybody knows what kind of affect this is supposed to be, please do tell!) throughout this dialogue with Shax, except for the brief moment when she first surprises him about the joint miracle having been detected.

1967 was a fun year. Crowley masterminded a heist! And seemed like he was having a ball doing it, right up until his little caper was called off after Aziraphale brought him the thermos of holy water. Crowley spoke to his co-conspirators in that same funny, very 60’s-caper-film voice. He wore a hip 60’s turtleneck. He bought petrol for the only time ever, so he could get those sweet James Bond bullet hole decals for his car (per the book, seen on the Bentley in the show).

Those James Bond bullet hole decals would of course have been part of a promotion for this 1967 release, which you just know our film-enjoying demon went to see in the theater:

Starring this suave, be-turtlenecked guy:

And now - begging your forgiveness - a brief rant.

There are a number of posts out there that refer to Crowley’s S2E2 turtleneck as a flirtatious sartorial choice - actually, ‘slutty’ seems to be the favored accusation. There are even a few posts floating around commenting on how sweet it is that Crowley swaps out his slutty, kinky, throw-me-over-your-desk-and-take-me turtleneck for a more dressy and appropriate collared shirt specifically to attend Aziraphale’s Jane Austen ball. 

Now this is all in good fun, and Crowley does indeed look fantastic here, and I do love a good fangirling sesh as much as the next person. However, fandom’s collective tendency to interpret what we are seeing on the screen through the lens of romantic expectation can, at times, give rise to a kind of blinkered enthusiasm that obscures the original text in a haze that is part Mandela Effect, part unrestrained horniness, and part in-group code talking and identity reinforcement.

Respectfully, Crowley’s black turtleneck does not appear at all in S2E5: The Ball. In fact, it never appears again after the end of S2E2.

For Someone’s sake, let’s collectively pull our heads out of the romantic fog/gutter for a moment and focus on what we are actually seeing in the book and on the screen. For Crowley, this is an uncharacteristic within-period costume change. There is a surreptitious flick of the wrist happening here, out in broad daylight, and we are all missing it.

So here’s a thing. Aziraphale appears to have settled comfortably into life on Earth, his neighborhood, his books, using Crowley as an outlet for sharing his good deeds that he would once have reported to Heaven. Meanwhile, at first glance, Crowley appears stuck in a rut. There he slouches on a park bench with Shax in S2E1: a guy who lives in his car, stagnantly clinging to old familiar habits, mulling over the pointlessness of it all.

Setting aside the bit about living in the Bentley (I’m going to attribute this to well-documented issues between him and Aziraphale, discussed in many other excellent metas, and move on), Crowley has at least two very good, proactive reasons for maintaining his contact with Hell through Shax. First and foremost, it’s a source of information he can use to keep ahead of potential threats to Aziraphale and himself.

But also, I would posit…he kinda likes it.

Recall that book GO was first conceived as a parody, with Aziraphale and Crowley as spy-against-spy (but not really) field operatives in an ages-old cold war between Heaven and Hell. Their entire book dynamic is rooted in the trope of two opposing agents who have been in the field for so long that they now have more in common with each other than with their respective head offices. Their St. James’s Park meetings among other spies and ministers trading secrets are a sendup of what was once a well-known Cold War-era cliché. 

Our contemporary Crowley still likes slick outfits and hellaciously expensive watches and high-performing vintage cars and pens that write underwater while looking like they could break the speed limit. He coaches Shax on how to blend in as a demon on Earth, and he helpfully redirects the wayward contact looking for the Azerbaijani sector chief. He loves improvising and getting away with shenanigans under the institutional radar. And boy golly was he impressed with Jane Austen: master spy, brandy smuggler, and mastermind of the 1810 Clerkenwell Diamond Robbery. 

And if you look at it a certain way, for as long as Crowley has considered himself to be on “[his] own side” - going at least as far back as Job - he could almost think of himself as a sort of double agent. It’s actually a very romantic sort of notion, befitting our hopeless romantic of a (professedly former) demon; but it’s romantic in a very different way than we, the audience, have been primed to watch for.

In other words, in a very “on my own side” kind of way, Crowley really gets a kick out of being a spy. Or at least, dressing up and accessorizing as one, and moonlighting as a good-doing double agent when he can get away with it. And also being a plotting criminal mastermind. Two sides of a coin, really. Just look at Jane Austen.

My point is: No, Crowley did not wait around for Shax to come find him in a turtleneck so that he could go flirt with Aziraphale later. He’ll flirt with Aziraphale no matter what. No, this:

is actually this:

Much like the one he wears to the Dirty Donkey in 1967: 

whilst holy water heist-plotting. Here's a clearer shot with gratuitous Bentley, because I love them:

…and which he'll wear again, with appropriate camouflage, while infiltrating Heaven in S2E6:

That is the 1967 planning a HEIST turtleneck for committing ESPIONAGE and STEALING THINGS in. Because turtlenecks are what modern human master spies wear to get their hands dirty - after all, he saw it in a movie once. 

Crowley dons his tactical turtleneck sometime during the first major break in the action (which doesn't happen until after the joint miracle to hide Gabriel) after he learns about the threat the Book of Life poses to Aziraphale. Loverboy started mentally preparing himself to go after that book immediately upon learning that it was in play as a genuine threat. 

Now let’s pick up at the S2E2 Dirty Donkey scene, reading the story from this angle. Of course, Crowley enables Aziraphale’s delusions about Heaven by hiding information from him, and does not disclose the Book of Life threat when they meet again. They go into the pub, Aziraphale shamelessly paws Crowley’s chest like the seductive Bond Girl he is, and Crowley gets to act all smooth and suave and intimidating as he chases off the interloping Mr. Brown (or Mr. Collins for the Pride & Prejudice fans, take your pick).

Ergo, theory: beginning in S2E2, Crowley is already thinking of himself as a Jane Austen/James Bond action hero (“How will our hero cope?”), psyching himself up to rescue Aziraphale by getting his spy game on and stealing the Book of Life.

Now, watch closely...This is where Aziraphale and Crowley brainstorm their plans to solve the problem they both know about: getting Maggie and Nina to fall in love and thereby get Heaven off their backs. Crowley’s vavoom plan is drawn from yet another movie (“Get humans wet and staring into each other’s eyes - vavoom, sorted. I saw it in a Richard Curtis film.”). But Crowley also implicitly shares his solution to the problem he hasn’t told Aziraphale about. And true to form, Crowley’s Jane Austen solution isn’t the same as Aziraphale’s Jane Austen solution. 

Two solutions that fail by the end of Season 2, and a secret third one that might still work...and there's our magic trick of three.

‘“I’m lost. Am I doing a rainstorm?” Yes, babe. And a heist, too - just not until season three. Can I get a wahoo!? 

I won’t spend time on A Companion to Owls during this meta, except to note that in all three minisodes, we get to watch stories that involve Crowley acting as a double agent on “his/their own side” - successfully making Hell and Heaven think he’s fulfilling their will while saving Job’s goats and children; failing to fool Hell when he does a good deed in Edinburgh; and of course, collaborating with Aziraphale whilst evading detection as an infernal turncoat during the Blitz.

(Because this is getting long, I'll also skip over Crowley's interrogation of Jim in this episode - I'll probably come back to that in another meta. But interrogating is a rather spy-ish thing to do.)

When we catch up with Crowley again later, he’s already slipped out of the bookshop, having left Aziraphale to his biblical reverie about Job. He saunters snakily down Whickber Street as usual, but with a very pointed and swift glance over his shoulder (see pic above). This demon is up to something - possibly something we didn’t get to see, something that may have happened offscreen while he stepped out. In any case, knowing there’ve been unfriendly angels in the neighborhood that morning, he’s rightly concerned about being spied on.

From this point until the beginning of episode six, there isn’t a whole lot of opportunity for Crowley to make any next moves. He babysits the bookshop, during which time he manages to wring some crucial information out of Jim; he follows his Crowley’s Angel around like a puppy, and downs a bottle of red like a good old fashioned lovesick boy once that’s been pointed out to him. If any plotting or scheming is underway, this occult being is keeping stumm for now.

This has been a long one, so I’ll wrap up with Crowley’s infiltration of Heaven with Muriel. The turtleneck disguise works (Archer fans, be vindicated!) long enough to gather some information that will be crucial not just to the denouement of S2, but also to Crowley’s journey in S3 (previous post on Crowley's Fall, Saraqael, and memory wiping). And Aziraphale gets to enjoy that view exactly zero times. The point isn’t oh, a turtleneck! How flirty! So cunty! So cute! Y’all. Everything matters. The costume change was a deliberate choice. In-universe, Crowley’s decision to wear his special spy turtleneck for spying in is a signal that he is out doing spy things, even as we watch.

In sum: Beginning in S2E2 and continuing through the end of the season, Aziraphale and Crowley are actively living out the scripts of two parallel, concurrent, and completely different Jane Austen stories. But you and I, dear fellow audience member, we came here for a comedy with a hefty jigger of romance, and that’s what Neil gave us to focus on. And right up until the Final 15, that was the only story we saw.

Meanwhile, Special Agent A. J. Crowley doesn’t have time to mope around at the end of S2E6. He’s kicked down, but he’s not out. He's got a Book of Life to steal, a very serious bone to pick with a certain memory-wiping angel, and his Angel and the world to save. 

“‘Heigh ho,’ said [romantic, optimist, former demon, hero, master spy] Anthony Crowley, and just drove anyway.”

#so honestly #I think the biggest mark against this conclusion is that Crowley sees his mirror Maggie taking a nap at the end of S2E6 #there is a strong chance of a depression nap before any further spying gets underway #but I am counting on Muriel to be a dorky ray of sunshine and snap him out of it with Clues #good omens #good omens meta #good omens 2 #crowley in a turtleneck #demon bookseller plantdad spy

[munariplans]

Hiii thank you for updating on your recent story! I enjoyed it!!💓 could I request Natasha x reader in a situationship & there’s a avengers wedding and they both get invited separately only for reader to see Nat in a different way and suddenly realised they had feelings all this time for her 🥹

the arrangement | natasha romanoff

synopsis: based on the request above!

natasha romanoff x reader

word count: 5.6k words

a/n: i really do have a fondness for writing pining and angst, enjoy hehehehe

masterlist

in a rare instance in the years you’ve known natasha, it was her that awoke first that morning, shaking you awake as yelena pounded on the door to her room.

“hey, hey,” natasha whispered-yelled, prompting you to get up while opening your eyes blearily, “you have to go. yelena’s here.”

yawning, you gave her an “OK” signal as you gathered your surroundings. you had once again fallen asleep in her room after last night. gathering your clothes and fixing your hair then, you spared a look at her mirror first before leaving, and what you saw almost made you want to laugh out loud. 

“how the fuck did you manage to cover me in this many hickeys?” 

natasha turned to you, halfway through freshening herself up as well. the redness in her cheeks grew prominent as she saw the many purple and red bruises littering all around your neck. cursing, she threw you a turtleneck from her wardrobe and pointed at the window. yelena was asking her why she was taking so long now.

but just before you climbed out, she thought about it, and risked it for a few more seconds, before pulling you in to press a kiss to your lips. “that girl that was hitting you up at the party last night was being annoying. had to show her you weren’t interested.”

you grinned, shaking your head at her ridiculousness. 

and right as you shut the window and slipped out, yelena barged in and threw her several wedding dress options onto natasha’s bed, demanding for her sister to decide which one looked best. but natasha hated to admit she was still distracted from the way your ass swayed right as you sultrily sneaked out of her window. 

–

later that same afternoon, you were walking with your friend, accompanying him ring-shopping, when the question first came up. 

“aren’t you ever interested in marriage? or, at the very least, finding a partner?” he half-joked. everyone knew you had been single for a while now. “we’re not so young anymore, you know.”

in response, you shrugged. “i don’t see a point.”

“in loving someone?”

“in being with someone, at all. the domesticity, the mundaneness, it’s all so…boring, after a while. i don’t see why you, and so many others, would want to be tied down by all of that, forever.”

“...so you don’t see a forever?”

“right now, with just one person, i don’t,” you said, your eyes drifting off to the street across, where a girl in braids of red hair reminded you of a certain someone you had begun sleeping with in the past few months. 

–

you called natasha on the way home, asking if she had company for the night, and if not, whether she wanted yours. 

she replied that she was frustrated, and that yelena was being a bitch about her wedding planning. natasha had insisted that a band would have been a better musical accompaniment, yelena had wanted to allow tony and clint to get drunk enough to sing for her.

you came to yelena’s rescue, apparently. because right as you arrived right back at natasha’s apartment, where the two women were clearly at each other’s throats and yelena had literally picked up a butter knife to threaten her sister, you caught natasha from lunging at her and wiping the stupid smirk off her face entirely. she thrashed in your arms, but with a few reassuring words and a promise to let yelena have a taste of her own medicine later, she relented. 

“can you believe how stupid she is sounding? wanting the drunkards to sing for her?!” natasha pointed out then, to which yelena took offence once more. 

“i’m sorry i want my wedding to be fun!” she screamed, “you can’t help it if god made your sister boring!”

“why, you–”

you held natasha firmer by your side, at the feeling of her nearly jumping to strangle her sister. “–natasha, enough. let it go.”

“she was being–”

“–it’s her choice, her wedding. let it go, will you? we can discuss this another time, when you two are less…riled up,” then, you leaned in closer, and whispered, “if you behave now, i’ll let you try fucking me against the glass of that window you like seeing me escape out of so much later.” 

her breath hitched, you knew you had struck a deal with natasha. she backed off, and even stopped herself from retaliating at yelena’s middle finger and stuck-out tongue.

but when yelena had left for the day and the two of you were alone, natasha found herself being strapped to the passenger seat of your car, as you drove her to her favourite ice cream parlour nearby.

a pout on her face, natasha asked as you parked, “i thought we were going to have sex after she left.”

you nodded understandingly. “we are, but i think i need to cool you down with ice cream first. i don’t want to get myself injured from your wrath with yelena earlier.”

the truth had been because you thought natasha needed a space to calm down and process her feelings first, and not to bottle it up and shove it away from sex. plus, you thought that the treat would cheer her up a little as well, putting aside how hot you found angry sex was with natasha.

of course, with your little quip, you could only expect natasha elbowing you as hard as she could, as you laughed and opened the door for her to the parlour.

–

“they have a new flavour here,” natasha pointed against the display, “apple pie.”

“you won’t like it.” you thought about natasha’s preferences for ice cream, and while they were boring, they were safe. “they have your usual today.”

but she took it as a challenge, apparently. “i’m going to try it.”

and as the cashier took both your orders, natasha noticed you place an order for her usual flavour. while it was odd that you would deviate from anything even remotely far from cookies and cream, she chose not to speak of it. 

you watched as natasha took her seat in front of you, then taking one bite of her apple pie scoop, before her face morphed into one of doubt, then slight discomfort, and finally, disgust. still, she tried to hide it from you, putting on a straight face as you asked her how it tasted. 

“fine,” she said, but her disdain said otherwise. 

in response, you smirked, offering her a bite of your own scoop. she was persistent in not wanting to at first, but as you offered her again, she took a bite, then another, and another, and oh well by that point you had given her your entire scoop and taken hers away from her. 

you tasted the apple pie scoop. it had cinnamon, something natasha clearly disliked. there was no wonder, you thought, smiling to yourself as you watched her finish the last of her usual order of vanilla with chocolate sprinkles. 

–

you were at the bachelor’s party of yelena’s fiancé when natasha’s call came in. she had dropped you a string of drunk texts that night, a product of her own consequences from attending yelena’s bachelorette party.

“hello, natty?” you answered, moving away from the noisy atmosphere of the club to a secluded side. you caught the groom giving you a confused look, you gestured that it was natasha on the line, and he gave you a weird smirk. 

“hellooo,” she drunkenly slurred. in the background, you could hear yelena asking for more shots. “my lovely, lovely, friend. where–are–you? i want to go home nowww…”

you moved further away from the club, bringing your phone closer to your ear. “i’ll come pick you up. are you sober enough to text me the address?”

just then, the phone was brought to maria’s side, and you could hear her shrieking for natasha to let you enjoy the party, and that there were designated drivers to bring her home if she needed to. natasha yelled back that she wanted you to come pick her up. 

you got the address from the groom, as he and the other people in the party boo-ed you for leaving so soon. you still had a line of shots to finish and a karaoke match that you would be missing, but you had already picked up your jacket and began finding your car keys to pick up natasha then. 

when you found her, she was slumped over the bar counter, in a conversation with the bartender, who was clearly wanting to serve the other customers to earn his keep. you approached, and natasha immediately went to your side as she hung off of you, smiling from ear to ear. her smile made your own lips turn up in amusement. 

“are you the one she’s been talking my head off all night?” the bartender asked, and you chuckled. 

“i guess so,” you thanked him for taking care of her, and left the bar after saying a round of goodbyes to the people in yelena’s party as well. 

– 

you helped natasha to the passenger seat of the car, but right as you reached over her body to help fasten her seatbelt, her hand caught your wrist, forcing you to look up at her. 

her eyes met yours, and in a clear split second of momentary sobriety, you saw sincerity in them. she whispered, “you’re so pretty,  i think i might be in love with you.”

you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled in your throat, as your first reaction was to snicker, then look away from her. then, when you heard her groan behind you, the snickers became full-blown chuckles as you laughed in her face at the drunken confession. “oh, i have so much blackmail material against you when you’re drunk.”

natasha hit you frustratedly as you returned to the driver’s seat, but you caught her hand as you continued, “you’re drunk, natasha. you’re saying things you don’t mean.”

you helped her out of the car again as you reached her apartment, her leaning her body on yours as she stumbled finding her way through the building. using the extra set of keys she had given you, you unlocked the door and set her down on her sofa. 

guiding her to her bedroom, you felt natasha’s hands then start travelling up and down your body, and while in any normal circumstance you would have indulged her, and perhaps initiated more, you knew she was drunk. you weren’t going to be the asshole who took advantage of their friend, with benefits, when it was unclear even to her what she was doing. 

you removed her hands, and let her lie down on the bed. she pouted. “do you not want me?” 

she saw you disappear into her bathroom for a minute, before returning with her toiletries. “i do. you know i always do. just not when you’re drunk.”

“but i want youuu,” she slurred, “and i’m so horny nowww.”

you smirked, but still refused. instead, you rested on top of her, slowly removing her false eyelashes, then wiping off her makeup, and finally helping her carefully wash her face. she sighed at the gentle massage and warm water. “you know, anyone else would have said yes. anyone else would have been dying for natasha romanoff, me, to sleep with them like this.”

“but i’m not anyone else, aren’t i?” you quipped, taking off her clothes and rejecting yet another advancement for her to take yours off as well. you went to her dresser to find her pyjamas. 

natasha rolled her eyes, turning her body away from you as you dressed her up again in protest. you smiled to yourself at her cuteness, tucking her in and pressing a kiss on her forehead. “tomorrow, when you’re sober and still up for it, call me. i’ll be here right away.”

she watched you place a strip of advil and a glass of water for her hangover tomorrow, before gathering your things again. “...you’re not going to stay? where are you going?” 

drunk natasha really was clingy natasha, you thought. “i have another hookup i need to get to. need to make the most of my nights, you know?”

in truth, you didn’t want to overstep any boundaries you and natasha had set up for yourselves when you first got into this…arrangement. she was clear on not wanting any feelings to be involved, and with how things were turning out tonight, you were afraid that if you stayed, there would be a blurring of some lines from her end on her feelings; lines that she would reenforce the morning after even more strictly. and while you didn’t generally have a problem with that, you had felt that you had gotten natasha to lower her walls down enough to enjoy your company beyond your flings; you didn’t want to risk all that just for a night where she could possibly tell you her drunken feelings about you. you treasured your friendship too much for that. 

and so you left, leaving natasha slightly stung and hurt with the implication that you had someone else, or a lot of someone elses, waiting for you if she wasn’t sleeping with you, and strangely, it affected her more than she thought it would, even drunk as she was. watching you leave, she thought selfishly about how she hadn’t slept with anyone since she began sleeping with you, so was it only fair that you had the decency not to as well?

but you and her were just friends, she had to remind herself. it was not like she had power to dictate who you were seeing, and who you slept with, anyway. it was not like you two were exclusive, or in a relationship at all, which was precisely what natasha hadn’t wanted at the start. now, she was wondering why she even uttered those words at all. 

little did she know, you were doing nothing of the sort. instead, you had gone straight home, put up a romantic comedy on the TV, heated yourself some leftovers, and sighed as you pondered over your own early end to the night.

– 

everyone who knew you and natasha, knew however, that whatever relationship you two had, was more than just friends. that the two of you had crossed the line of just friends about twenty late-night hookups and rendezvouses ago, no matter what either of you claimed about the other. 

it was clear in the way you cared for natasha more than any other friend you had, it was clear in the way natasha sought out for you more than she even initiated a conversation with anyone else. 

which was what made it so incredulous; that you would allow anyone else try to court natasha before you did. 

everyone had warned bucky that what you and natasha shared was more than just a surface friendship, and relations ran deeper than what he thought was possible. but still, it didn’t stop him from taking your own words against yourself, and confronting you about it one day.

“you’re just friends, right?” he asked haughtily, interrupting you as you were helping yelena sort out the final touches to her wedding venue arrangement. you dismissed him with a quick grunt and agreement. 

but he followed you. “then you wouldn’t mind helping me get to know her, would you? or better, helping her fall for me?”

you paused in that moment, yelena, overhearing the conversation, consequently giving him a weird look as well. surely not, she thought, turning her attention to you, but you seemed to contemplate his request. 

and she nearly choked in disbelief, when surprisingly, you agreed to help him out in chasing natasha.

you shared with him that natasha’s birthday was approaching, and when he asked what kind of gifts she would like, you wanted to say something small, heartfelt. but then you realised it was probably only in your case she would like it so. from anyone else, you thought she deserved the world. 

“something big, extravagant,” you told bucky, “natasha deserves only the best, you see.”

he happily lapped up any information you gave him about natasha, the person who knew her best. 

and when her birthday did arrive, you watched by the sidelines as bucky shyly presented his gift to her, an outlandish, extravagant display of just his infatuation for the woman. everyone had thought it was well-thought out, very well suited to what she liked, and you patted yourself on the back at the comments. it was you, after all, who had accompanied bucky to get her gift. 

natasha looked flustered, admittedly, at the surprise of someone knowing what she wanted so well. it wasn’t everyday that she told the people around her what she wanted for her birthday, after all. and to think about it, she had only told you, of her wishlist upon her birthday. 

when she found a moment with you alone that night, as the party winded down and everyone began to leave, she was interrupted by bucky hanging around foolishly, almost as if he was waiting for something to happen between them. she kindly gave him a kiss on the cheek, and promised him she would call him the next day. she needed to get to you first.

you were by the bar as you watched their interaction, the giddy look on bucky’s face as he left and gave you a thumbs-up making you chuckle. 

then, natasha appeared by your side, asking you what was so funny. you didn’t have the heart to tell her. 

“i didn’t forget to get you a gift, by the way,” you told her when she had coaxed you up to her bedroom, “i just…didn’t want the others to see. saved you the embarrassment of the teases and accusations in front of everyone.”

“oh god,” natasha replied, “you’re going to gift me a sex toy, aren’t you? i just know it.”

“you are such an addict,” you snickered, “what do you take me for?!”

then, you pulled out a small box from your jacket, tied in a tiffany blue ribbon with her name written in an accompanying card alongside the box. natasha’s fingers trembled as she received your gift.

to my natasha, my bestest friend. 

she didn’t know why her heart dropped a little in disappointment at the note. but she kept up her unwavering smile, and pulled on the ribbon. 

it was a silver necklace, with a flower pendant right in front. it was neither tacky, nor extravagant and luxurious, like bucky’s gift had been. and while his gift was definitely something natasha liked, and was surprised by, your gift had been the one that almost sent her to tears. 

“because you’re beautiful like the flowers,” you said, a little uncertain as you watched tears well up in her eyes, “natty, are you okay?”

she tried to reel in the tears, but to no avail. worried, you said, “if you don’t like it, i can return it, it’s okay. i can probably get back a half-refund for it, and get you the voucher to spend on something else. oh god, you’re crying because of me, is it that bad…?”

but then, suddenly she was throwing herself onto you, arms wrapped around your neck as she sobbed hysterically. she had never known someone who knew her so well. you wrapped your arms around her body, still confused, when she choked out, “i-it’s perfect. thank you.”

she asked you to help her put it on, and when the clasp was tightened and natasha felt the pendant rest on the base of her collarbones, she held it as if she was holding it close to her heart. it was the best birthday gift she had ever gotten. 

“i’m sorry it’s a little small, and kind of lame,” you professed later, as she laid on top of you, spending the last few moments of her birthday together. it was also the rare few times the both of you were fully clothed while laying on that bed. “i know you deserve so much better, but i…i saw the pendant, and it reminded me of you.”

natasha listened to your heartbeat quicken as she reached out for your hand, interlacing her fingers with yours. “i loved it. you don’t have to apologise. thank you, for today as well. steve told me you planned the party from start to finish. called the caterers to make sure they had what i liked, arranged the drinks from the bar, even nearly having a fight over the cake decorations with the bakery. it must’ve been so much trouble.”

your laugh this time was warm, rumbling from your diaphragm. “not at all. not if it’s for you.”

your eyes met hers, and when natasha readjusted her face just so that she could be closer, to give you a perfect opportunity to lean down and kiss her, to give her the perfect end to her birthday night, you stupidly looked away, and told her you couldn’t stay. 

as you left, you reminded her to call bucky again, and natasha nearly threw her own phone at you in frustration. 

– 

natasha had unwillingly agreed to a lunch date with bucky, upon your suggestion that he was a nice guy, and that she was the only one left to go to yelena’s wedding without a date. she made you promise to pick her up right after, and while you feigned that she was so troublesome for asking for such, you were happy to do it for her. 

“well, how was it?” you asked. you had been driving for a good fifteen minutes after picking her up, and natasha still had not said one word about him. she had only been talking to you about your day up until then. 

she shrugged, almost as if not giving a care for it. “it was okay. he paid for the lunch. we talked about yelena’s wedding.” 

“okay enough for a second date?”

she looked away to the window. you thought you said something wrong, when she replied, “what do you think about him?”

“well, i don’t know,” you said, “when he came to me, asking for help to get you to like him, i thought he seemed genuine enough. so…i helped him.”

“wait,” natasha suddenly sat up, shooting you a glare, “you were helping him? to get to me?”

your gaze met hers for a brief moment, before returning to the road. “...yes? is there anything wrong with that?”

she stayed quiet for a moment, but you knew she was seething. you offered to explain yourself, to tell her that you just wanted the best for her, that’s all, and that bucky seemed like a good partner for her, when natasha held up a hand to stop you. 

then, she demanded for you to stop the car and let her out.

“what?” you asked, puzzled. “it’s still half an hour to your apartment, natty. and it’s about five degrees out, you’ll freeze to death if you get out.”

“i said, stop the car!” she argued back defiantly, “stop the car or i’m opening the door right now and throwing myself out!”

you knew not to take natasha’s words lightly, as you stopped finally. then, you watched with even more disbelief, as she unbuckled her seatbelt, got out, and slammed the door shut again. 

when she began walking her route home, you followed her with your car and pleaded, “come on, natty, are you mad at me?”

she refused to make eye contact or acknowledge you. 

“fine, i was wrong. i never should’ve helped him, and i won’t help him anymore. i just…i wanted what was best for you, you know? come on, get back in the car, it’s cold outside, and you still have so far to go if you walk.”

“what’s best for me…” she said under her breath, “...how do you know what’s best for me?”

“natty, i said i’m sorry!” you begged this time, but natasha suddenly took a turn to the right, leading up to a row of shops where the roads didn’t allow for cars in, and you knew it was your sign to leave her alone. she still didn’t acknowledge you when you said you were sorry for the third time. 

–

the next time bucky came up in a conversation between you both (you had been very careful not to tread upon it since that day), natasha told you that she had let him down and told him to try again when she was more ready for a relationship.

you were afraid of asking why, in fear that she would ignore you and get upset all over again, but she invited you to do so. so you asked, and she said that she had her eye on someone else the whole time, so it was unwelcomed at the thought of you trying to set her up with bucky.

you had wanted to ask who it was, your curiosity piqued, when you were interrupted by wanda asking you for a dance. it had been at another friend’s wedding, after all. 

natasha found herself digging her fingernails into her palms when you took wanda’s hand and danced with her.

–

the woman showed you just how jealous she had been of wanda hours later in your bedroom. with the knowledge that her and bucky were no longer a thing, you no longer had to respect your boundaries with her as a friend, and the both of you returned to sleeping together again. to say that you missed natasha’s touch had been an understatement.

“you look so pretty with my hands around your neck,” natasha whispered harshly. there it was again. the last time she called you so pretty, she was drunk. now, she was sober, and you were still finding it hard to believe her words. perhaps it was just something she said in the heat of the moment.

you moaned as her fingers plunged harder, and deeper, within you, letting your eyes roll to the back of your head as natasha ravaged you for the night. in the morning you would wake in her bed again, and it would be okay, because you had her back, finally. the red, raw trails on your back from her fingers wouldn’t feel so sore, the hickeys around your neck and jaw no longer a nuisance. because you had her back, and it was all that mattered. 

–

leading up to yelena’s wedding, the two of you returned to a shared normalcy that was similar to before the bucky incident; something both you and natasha were grateful for.

you would pick her up for lunch at her favourite restaurants most days, and on more than one occasion, you would catch natasha taking pictures of you when the both of you were alone. she thought you looked too good, in the natural sunlight of the restaurant window, and in the scarf that she had bought for you for your birthday. 

when you would ask to see the photos later on, you found it hard to disagree that the world did look better in natasha’s eyes. 

away from your prying eyes later, natasha would set the photos she took of you as her phone lockscreen. 

– 

with natasha as the maid of honour and you being one of the grooms (wo)men, natasha was the one who insisted that you at least knew how to dance properly when the slow songs came about. you had whined that you wouldn’t be dancing anyway, since you didn’t have a date, and you weren’t looking to find a date, but the woman was insistent, and you could never really say no to her. 

“it’s easy, just follow me, and try not to step on my feet,” she reminded you, fixing the turntable to an elvis record. you watched in adoration at the warm lighting of the room, and how, even in her pyjamas and her hair tied in a messy bun, natasha still managed to look beautiful even in her apartment’s living room. 

she took your hands in hers, placing it on her waist, as she laid her head on your shoulder. “breathe. and follow me.”

the music played. it was easy enough keeping up with natasha, following her footsteps and swaying to the music. but what was not easy, was having her breath fanning out against your neck, the smell of wine in her mouth, and the music, oh the music. it was a huge mistake to dance with natasha when elvis’ can’t help falling in love was playing in the background.

the both of you softly, slowly danced, natasha taking comfort in your touch, while the music accompanied all that you were feeling for the night.

shall i stay? would it be, would it be a sin? if i can't help falling in love with you 

would it be a sin if you fell for natasha? you could only hold her closer, relishing in the fact that in that brief moment, where the two of you were dancing, no one else mattered, and nothing else was there, except for your two souls, beating as one. once the song was over, it would be back to being just friends for you both, but in that moment, you were infinite, and you were natasha’s. 

when she felt you let go first as the song ended, natasha resisted the urge to hold on tighter and ask for a second song. 

– 

on the morning of the wedding, you woke natasha up first, pressing kisses all over her cheeks and face as she giggled and wrestled you off. then, she tried sneaking her hand past the band of your panties, to which you reluctantly pulled her out of, mentioning how you couldn’t be late to yelena’s wedding, of all events. she groaned and kissed you for a consolation prize. 

the both of you got ready together. in the bathroom mirror, when the two of you were brushing your teeth, you made eye contact with natasha and she did with you. she smiled shyly, and you realised you didn’t mind spending the rest of your mornings brushing your teeth beside her for a lifetime. 

she sat on your lap as she did your makeup, and you did the same doing hers. the both of you must have had a silent agreement to not look into the other’s eyes for too long in those moments, because you knew natasha wanted to kiss you just as much as you wanted to kiss her when she got too close. 

and when the both of you arrived and separated into your respective sides of the venue, you wished natasha the best of luck with a kiss to her cheek. she hugged you back in reassurance, telling you would do well in the slowdance later. 

when the guests were seated and ready, and natasha and you standing in the opposite sides of the bride and groom, you caught her eye again, watching yelena walk in. she looked absolutely radiating, and you knew she was thanking natasha secretly for convincing her that a band was a better musical accompaniment than whatever she had planned for herself. 

you look beautiful, you mouthed to natasha. she hid her blush in the bridesmaid beside her, as she mouthed the same back to you. 

but when elvis’ song came on again, as yelena walked down the aisle, your eyes were still transfixed on each other. it didn’t matter, because everyone else’s eyes were on the bride then. only you and natasha had each other.

and suddenly, you realised that forever with someone, didn’t seem so bad at all. not if it’s with her. not if it’s natasha. 

 the domesticity, the mundaneness, it wasn’t all so boring if it was with her. you realised you would relive the thousands of days of doing nothing, if it was spent by her side. 

you realised you would do anything for her, even go out to get a ring for her right then, propose and then marry her in a chapel, if that was what she wanted. if it meant forever with her. 

you realised that maybe you loved her, more than just friends. and loving her meant realising that you didn’t have to make a wish ever again because you already had everything you could ever want with her. 

– 

you wanted to ask for her hand when it was time to slow dance. you wanted to ask her to be yours. you wanted to ask her if it hurt to breathe while you loved her as much as she loved you. 

but when you found her, and went to her side to ask her, you were interrupted by bucky once again, who patted you on the back and diverted his attention to natasha. 

he asked her to dance first. and the smile on your face fell, natasha noticed. she halted him, turning to you to ask what was wrong, but then you shook your head, telling her you were fine. she asked again, but you insisted that she dance with him. you would tell her later.

you didn’t know if you were too late. you didn’t know if there were good reasons natasha had established boundaries between the two of you, and whether breaking them meant losing her forever. what were you thinking, that just because you caught feelings, meant she would catch them too? 

you wouldn’t risk what you have with her just because of your feelings. you treasured natasha too much for that. 

and so when she slow danced with the man on the dance floor and tried catching your eye to dance with her instead, you only gave her a small smile and left the ballroom first. 

because you weren’t hers and she wasn’t yours. that had been the arrangement from the start. 

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel cinematic universe

[fuckmyskywalker]

Babysitting — Anakin Skywalker.

— Pairing: SingleDad!Anakin x Babysitter!Reader.

— Summary: You stay at his house while he's at a boring fundraising event of the company he works for, so, you do what you love to do when he's not home... Lock yourself in his room, inside your fantasies, pretending he's yours. You lay down on his bed, imagining his touch, his voice, it feels so... real. But, it's just an illusion... right?

— CW: 18+, smut! minors DNI. ModernAU!Setting, Anakin and Reader are clearly delusional and obsessed with each other <3. Light stalking (maybe?), masturbation (f n' m), a bit of voyeurism (?), Fingering, PiV sex, unhealthy shit. | word count: 2.5k | not proofread!

— a/n: My first post here, yay! I'm so excited and so nervous. Hope you like it! Happy May 4th! 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

“Sorry for calling you on such short notice” Anakin apologizes, frowning. Leia is on his hip, fighting the sleep without any hints of success. Her chocolate eyes blink slowly, looking at you, her favorite playtime partner. “Luke is already sleeping upstairs, but this one is giving me trouble”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Skywalker” You replied with a smile, fetching the little girl from his arms and placing her on your chest. Leia places her chin on your shoulder, quickly falling asleep. “Have fun at your fundraiser!” 

“If you need anything, call me,” He says, oddly serious. You don’t mind, though there’s something about his permanent anxious blue eyes that makes your heart race. “And don’t call me that, I’m not that old” He sighs and walks closer to kiss Leia’s forehead. 

You wished he kissed your forehead too.

Being the babysitter of a 26-year-old, single, and widowed Dad wasn’t exactly everyone’s dream job… It wasn’t yours either, at the beginning that is; When you first read the job offer online you thought it was a joke, it seemed too good to be true, but still, you had nothing to lose— And to your amazement, a tired voice answered your call and the instant you heard the thunderous cry of a child, you knew it was very, very real.

It wasn’t just babysitting Leia and Luke, but you ended up babysitting Anakin as well. Helping him fix his tie, packing him any leftovers (He didn’t care it was the dino nuggets Luke begged and cried for), and even helping him with some house cleaning on those days when he had to stay extra hours at the office. You instantly clicked with his kids, Luke was definitely a bit more hesitant to come out of his shell, shyly hiding behind his sister’s white pajamas, but Leia liked you from your very first day, her feisty and energetic attitude quite surprising for a four-year-old. 

Tonight, it was no different. You were in your bed, reading some random book from the local library when your phone rang, and Anakin hurriedly explained to you how he forgot he had a fundraising event that evening and if you could watch the kids. You agreed without hesitation, and even a bit more excited than you would’ve wanted to, but he was too busy chasing Luke to dress him up to notice your odd enthusiasm. 

You walk upstairs, listening to his car engine driving away. Carefully placing Leia on his little bed, you gave Luke a quick look, making sure he was asleep. Turning on their nightlight, you leave the door open, in case one of them wakes up. 

It was the second time you spend the night at Anakin’s home, the first time being last month, when he was out of town for a weekend, and just like you did the last time, you walk to his bedroom, slowly, feeling yourself, imagining that this was your house.

And that he was your husband.

Inside his closet, the scent of his body wash, his expensive cologne, and just him drowns you. You grab one of his sweaters, your favorite one, that black turtleneck that’s tight in the right places. Bringing it up to your face you smell it, he must have worn it this morning because the perfume was intense and it made your head twirl with excitement. 

You take off your shirt, putting his sweater on. The material it’s so soft, and the warm sensation brings you to another level of ecstasy, wondering if this is how it feels to have his muscular, tanned arms around you. 

Laying down on his bed, you bury your face in his pillow, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull with utter obsession. Everything about him allures you to a point that it is maddening. You know everything you need to know about him; His wife died three years ago and he hasn’t been on a single date since, between the kids, his work, and the mourning it has been impossible. You know he has a major sweet tooth, and you love to see his little smirk every time you bake cookies, especially for him. You know he hates his mechanical arm but somehow it fascinates you. You know he is a workaholic, always trying to keep his mind busy and to keep himself in line. You know about his… issues, you had seen his bottles of Celexa, Sertraline, and Lorazepam. You know his favorite food, his favorite movie, who he tolerates at work and those he hates the most. 

But you wish to know everything about him. Every single little detail.

Still with his sweater drowning your body, you walk downstairs, microwaving the pizza he bought that night probably under Leia’s command. Eating the couch, you turn on the TV, watching a random show without really paying attention to it, your mind still drifting away to the thought of owning this place. Of owning him. 

Waiting for him like a little, pretty housewife. Dinner ready, wearing a cute pink apron, the kids running around the living room, greeting him with a kiss…

Oh, such wonderful fantasies.

Cleaning the kitchen, you return to the living room to pick up the twins’ toys, making sure everything looks good and homely. You can already picture it, sitting next to him on the weekends, laying on his chest while ranting about work just like he always does to you… but this time he cups your cheeks to kiss you, to enjoy his days off by your side.

Time flies, and you know it because the clock is almost one-hour past midnight. You start to wonder where he is, did he really go to that boring event?

He looked too worried about it, plus, why would Anakin lie to you? It’s not like he had something else to do, right?

Your mind races without noticing it, what if he’s out with someone else, and he just wanted to keep it a secret? The sting of jealousy settles in your stomach almost comfortably. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. He is yours as much as you are his. Even if Anakin doesn’t fully know it yet. You’ve seen the way he smiles at you, how he thanks you for helping him so, so, so much, you see how happy he looks when the twins squeal with excitement at your presence, how quickly he raised your pay, even if you refused.

“I insist,” He said, with those ocean eyes. And who were you to deny him anything?

Anakin was the man of your dreams. At some point, you start to wonder if destiny is what brought you two together, maybe an unknown force that bonds souls into a beautiful embrace. 

Back in his room, the smell of his dark duvet dissolved any trace of doubt and jealousy. He was yours, he truly was. Your hands slid under your sweater, touching your body. You feel on fire. Your skin is melting, imagining it’s his touch. Would his prosthetic hand feel cold against your nipples just like it feels every time he places a hand on your shoulder to thank you? Would his breath feel warm against your abdomen just like it feels when he leans closer to whisper about how funny Luke looks wearing his shoes?

The moan that escapes your lips isn’t loud, you are partially conscious of not waking the kids, though you can’t help it. Sliding down your jeans you slid a hand inside your panties, rubbing your clit in slow circles imagining his calloused, strong hands fingering you. Just using you. Using two fingers you curl them towards that spongey spot that makes you yelp and bite your lip in pleasure. The soft, wet sounds of your pussy fill the room as you pant, one hand yanking the pillow towards your face and inhaling it so deeply you groan against it. 

The delicious fantasy of his cock sliding in and out of you spirals you to heaven or hell. You want— need him to kiss you, bite you, even spit on you, anything.

Not even the faint sound of footsteps on the stairs rug brings you back to reality.

Anakin sighs, dragging his coat over the wooden floor, he feels so tired and all he wants is to take a hot shower and sleep. Not even the three drinks he had at the event were enough to dull his headache. He checks the kids’ room, smirking when he sees Luke hugging his favorite dinosaur plushie and Leia sprawled all over her unicorn blanket. 

He assumes you are sleeping in the guest room, that is until a tiny, barely discernible sound confuses him. Slowly approaching his bedroom, the tiny door gap makes him gasp silently.

There you are, beautifully spread out in his bed, wearing his sweater, and from what he hears, moaning his name.

How long has it been since someone moaned his name with such desire and passion?

Hesitant, he palms himself over his black trousers, his cock rapidly pumping and pulsing. He sees how your fingers curl, glistening with your arousal, and he wants to lick them clean. It is not the first time he has found himself thinking about you in a way he shouldn’t. 

He has been in the same position as you, but without the public, of course. Anakin feels ashamed of himself, for spying on you like this. A wave of embarrassment coats him every time he cums by his own hand, fantasizing about your pretty lips around his dick, how soft your skin must feel, how much he needs your weight on top of him, under him. He can’t help but let his eyes wander every time you bend over to clean the kids’ toys, your skirts leaving little to the imagination. How you place a hand on his arm and thank him for such a wonderful job. How he sees you packing up his lunch and helping Luke with his uniform, braiding Leia’s hair.

Anakin knows you would be a wonderful housewife, always attentive, always gentle. It doesn’t help that the twins absolutely adore you, constantly begging for your attention and talking wonders about you. Wonders he already knows. 

Unbuckling his belt, Anakin sighs relieved when he wraps a hand around his hard, thick cock. He fists his hand at the same pace you ride your fingers, your pretty face contorted with pleasure.

Anakin wonders what you are imagining, that makes you so deliciously wet. Are you thinking about him? He hopes you do. He begs heavens you are. No one else had permission to roam around your head. Anakin felt possessive over you, not even understanding why. He was scared of his own emotions from time to time, always so intense, so fierce, so unexpected, and uncontrollable. No one could ever match that energy, when his wife was alive, he had to take prescribed meds in order to keep his emotions in line, and even then it was difficult. 

People told him it was an obsession, but they were wrong. It was love, in its purest form. 

You moan his name again, this time a little bit louder. Anakin twitches at the angelical sound of it. You are absolutely breathtaking. He can’t control himself any longer. The urge to know how tight and wet you feel around him is eating him up alive. 

The door swings open and you choke back in surprise and shock. Your hand flees away from between your legs and your adorable eyes widen in sudden fear. Anakin thrills on it. Your eyes glance at his exposed member, rock-hard and leaking. You gulp, nervous.

“I—I’m sorry Mr. Skywalker I—” You stutter, mortified. You want to cry. Everything is about to crumble, right?

“You have no idea what you do to me” He breathes, almost pained. Speechless, you see how he walks closer, wasting no time to lay on top of you. “Fuck, you are so pretty with my sweater” He whines against your neck, inhaling your scent and his combined.

“Mr. Skywalker…” You whisper, wrapping your arms around him, quickly losing every concert and quickly falling back into the abyss of lust. 

“Anakin, call me Anakin” He pants against your skin as he licks your neck, rubbing his cock on your stomach. He whines at the friction, already sensitive. 

“Anakin” His name rolls off your tongue so sweetly it makes him twitch and you feel it. “Oh, please— please”

“Tell me what y—you want,” He asks, one hand sliding even further up his sweater, palming your breast. His rough fingertips pinch your nipple, making your back arch. “Because all I want right now is to fuck your pretty pussy raw”

The vulgar words he utters make you moan. Could this be a dream? In that case, you would never want to wake up.

“Fuck me, please, make me yours Anakin” You beg, tangling your hand on his dirty blond hair and yanking it. He moans at the pain, but quickly kisses you, forcing his tongue inside your mouth.

The second he slides inside of you, dragging his long cock and spreading you just like he dreamed of, Anakin realizes he’s doomed. He is now attached to you, captivated, enamored, haunted, by you. Your essence drowns him in the deep ocean of lust and obsession. The thin line between love and mania joins in a big, powerful ocean. His world now spins around you.

He fucks you as if his life depends on it. The skin-on-skin contact is too much. You look so gorgeous, tears falling down your cheeks from the euphoria. This is happening, this is happening, this is finally happening. 

Anakin kisses you, all teeth and tongue. The kiss is so sloppy you can feel his saliva running down the corners of your lip, not that you care, of course— He sneaks a hand down, this time abusing your clit with his fingers just like he is abusing your pussy with his cock. You clench around him and he’s a goner, blue eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fills you up seconds after you spam around him, touching heaven with the most mind-shattering orgasm you had ever experienced.

The way he cums it’s almost criminal. He fills you up and it drips out of you, staining his sheets. Anakin forgot the last time he came that much since all he did for the past years was fuck his hand until he cried from overstimulation.

“Stay the night,” Anakin says against your hair, wrapping his arms around you. The dense smell of sex fills the room, forcing you into a dizzy state.

“Yes, yes” You nod, eyelids heavy, and you place a hand on his bicep, puffing. “Anything you want” The smile on your lips it’s bright enough to light up the darkest room, and even though he can’t see it, he feels it.

Maybe he did find someone who could love him as much as he does.

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Anya writes! #𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Anya loves Anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x fem reader #anakin x y/n #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin imagine #anakin x you #Anakin Skywalker x you #anakin smut #SingleDad!Anakin #star wars smut #tw obsessive behavior #anakin skywalker x reader

[onesidedradiostatic]

vox's outfits through the years, based on what little we can see

let's talk about the eras of vox's outfits. I've been trying to figure out how to properly express this post for a while considering the poor quality or little details of the photos we've seen but it was difficult.

this could easily be a bit inaccurate because of that

but REGARDLESS.

so you know how it's a common theory that vox modeled his outfit after alastor, bowtie, pinstripes, upturned collars? even with a cast full of bowties (like man vivzie really loves her bowties), their outfits are pretty similar, sir pentious likely modeled himself after one or both of them too (but he's not relevant to this post, just thought I'd address him since he's the other one with the similar fit)

but you know when those aspects aren't visible in vox's fit?

his picture with val

(where he... presumably partners up with him for the first time?)

in this picture, there's no bowtie, there's no upturned collar, you can barely see any visible pinstripes (although difficult to truly tell due to the quality of the picture, I can only see a vague stripe across his sleeve), even the coloured tips of his fingers aren't visible in the picture, the qualities that are reminiscent of alastor are barely present

however, in his photo with alastor...

which is presumably taken BEFORE the one with val which we can assume because

val fell 20 years after vox, and alastor fell before vox, giving a 20 year period where vox likely associated with alastor without val

the alastor photo is black and white while the val one is in colour

in that photo...

...vox seems to have visible pinstripes on his shoulder. which isn't much, but when he's standing right next to alastor like that, the similarities stand out. even with that small part of his shoulder, it clearly mirrors alastor.

of course, most of vox is obscured in this photo so I can't say it with 100% accuracy (we can't tell whether or not he has a bowtie and upturned collar or not. whether he started out with the stupid orange-red turtleneck). but with the alastor mirroring? seems to show mimicry of alastor during the time when they were friends.

this is working on a LOT of assumptions right now due to unclear details of the photos but what it seems like to me is

vox mimics alastor's fit -> vox/alastor falling out + partnering up with val -> stops mimicking alastor -> alastor disappears for 7 years -> starts mimicking alastor again? (current fit)

the possibility of him changing his fit to not mimic alastor in his picture with val could put his falling out with alastor at around the same time as his partnership with val, but this is working off a bit of a weaker assumption due to like 80% of vox not being visible in the vox + alastor photo. so feel free to take this one with a grain of salt.

very interesting to me though, that there was a period of time, in the beginning of his partnership with val where he wasn't mimicking alastor, but somewhere down the line to his current fit, he decided to start mimicking him again, despite this definitely being an era after their falling out. that he for some reason, despite hating alastor now, decided to go back to mimicking alastor, whether consciously or not. maybe even because of how much he felt his absence during those 7 years?

or maybe vivziepop just really likes pinstripes and bowties and upturned collars and there isn't a deeper meaning to this who knows

this is a post I've wanted to make for a while, but the finer details of the photos being unclear has just made me constantly make edits to it due to unknown factors, like I said, it's very possible certain details are inaccurate due to lack of information, but I'm trying to work with something here, so hopefully this is comprehensible.

although not the cause of this post, this comic got me to revisit this in my drafts (and has a really good take on vox mimicking alastor during his 7 year absence, which DID inspire one of the hypotheticals of this post) so check that out

#osrs.txt #radiostatic #staticradio #onewaybroadcast #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox #vox hazbin #vox hazbin hotel #something something the guy always screaming about the future being unable to let go of the past #hazbin hotel

[judasofsuburbia]

it's a bad idea, right?

steddie toxic exes au. based off olivia rodrigo's new song.

“Shut it off,” Eddie whines groggily into Steve's ear. 

Steve's eyes open up to the incessant ringing of his phone. He reaches over to pick it up off the nightstand, effectively getting out of Eddie's grasp. Eddie makes a disgruntled noise but doesn't protest further. 

It's Robin.

“Oh shit,” Steve grumbles as he sits up completely and answers it.

“Dingus! You're up, oh my god, finally. The girls and I are ready for the museum thing whenever you are. Though, I suggest that we go like right now because the lines are gonna get ridiculous and we're most definitely going to hit traffic going into the city and who knows if the teens have eaten anything so we might have to stop at McDonald's too. I have enough to get a bunch of sausage biscuits, could you cover the coffees? Maybe El is responsible and has money but I don't trust that Erica and Max do. I'll make sure they don't get any fancy frappes or anything—”

Robin continues at a mile a minute and Steve's brain is trying desperately to catch up. He rubs a hand over his tired eyes and sighs. 

“I can probably bus to your house if that would be easier.”

That gets Steve's attention. His eyes shoot open as he says, “No, no Robin. I'll come get you. Don't even worry about it.”

“Oh, okay,” Robin agrees easily. “You good dude? Sleep like the dead last night?”

“Something like that,” Steve grumbles. “Look I'm gonna need like half an hour to get ready. I'll text you when I'm near your apartment.”

“It's just a Wonder Woman exhibit. Don't get fussy with your outfit.”

“Uh huh, okay,” Steve replies. He starts to roll out of bed but Eddie catches him, yanking him closer. 

“Where do you think you're going?” Eddie rasps, sending shivers down Steve's spine. He couldn't get wrapped up in that too long though because all he hears is Robin's responding gasp through the receiver. 

“Half an hour, love you, bye!” Steve shouts, hanging up hurriedly. 

Eddie chuckles into Steve's neck, successful in pulling Steve back into his hold. Steve's weak to do anything but sink into it. 

“You haven't told them, have you?” Eddie asks, pressing a kiss to the back of Steve's neck.

“There's nothing to tell,” Steve argues.

Eddie laughs again, dragging Steve's ear lobe with his teeth. “You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

Steve does manage to get out of Eddie's apartment and back home in time to slip on some clean clothes, spritz himself in cologne, and get out of the door. Thank fuck for fall because the turtleneck he grabs covers the number Eddie did on his neck. He wishes he could get the phantom press of his lips and teeth out of his head. 

He picks up the teenagers first. They're easy because they all were spending the night at the Sinclairs. He thought he could put off his death a little bit longer. He was wrong. 

The girls are giggling as they clamor into the backseat and Steve is immediately on edge. 

“You're so fucking dead, dude,” Max declares as Steve backs out of the driveway.

Steve smiles tightly at her through the rearview mirror. “And who said anything to you?”

The girls are giggling again. It grates every nerve in Steve's body. 

“Mike overheard Nancy and Robin on the phone. He texted us. It probably wasn't very nice,” El says, at least sounding a little bit guilty. Steve shoots her a sympathetic look.

It's not her fault he fucked up, again.

“Great,” Steve grits. “That's fucking fantastic.”

Steve pulls up to Robin's apartment, tense and seconds away from wincing when he sees her stomp out the front door. She plops into the front seat and the whole car goes quiet. 

“You look nice,” Steve tries. 

“Breakfast is on you,” Robin replies. 

“Yeah, I figured,” Steve mumbles. 

Everyone is happily sipping their fancy frappes. Everyone except Robin of course who has managed to not dig into him in front of the teens but he knows it's coming. Like a storm about to brew. 

Steve tries not to think about how Eddie tasted like caramel as they made out because he's quit smoking and sucks on candies instead. He's torturing himself with the caramel frappe in his hand but he can't help it. He craves it more than he should. 

They get their tickets and the teens run ahead of them, checking out all the cool displays. Steve starts to walk in front of Robin but he gets yanked back. 

“Did you just...trip and fall into his bed? Or is this a repeat offense?” Robin asks with a cool, casual tone.

“I...” Steve stutters, taking a sip of his drink that's long gone to buy him time. All it buys him is a loud empty slurping sound. 

“You said you were falling asleep early last night,” Robin states.

“And I did! I was asleep just...not in my bed.”

Robin scoffs. “What was it this time? Eddie looking to reconnect?”

Steve's lips turn into a frown. As much as Steve likes to believe he's above Eddie's words and affection, it truly does not take much to break him. He and Eddie dated casually for about a year. Steve wanted to be serious but Eddie's band was about to take off and he didn't want any strings tying him to Chicago. Steve painfully decided to end it, decided he needed more than “I promise you're the only one I'm sleeping with”. Eddie's band did kind of take off. But not enough to get Eddie out of Chicago. And out of Steve's brain, apparently. 

“I only see him as a friend,” Steve lies through his teeth.

“Do I look stupid to you?” Robin asks with a tilt of her head, eyebrows raised. 

“No,” Steve emphasizes. “But we...we're not back together or anything.”

“I don't think you were ever together to begin with.”

“Okay. Ouch.”

“I'm serious, dingus. You were not good after that breakup, or whatever you want to call it. I just don't want to see you get hurt again.”

Steve lets out a long sigh, tossing his frappe into the trash, and leaning up against the wall. He watches as fans of Wonder Woman roam the museum, some of them dressed up for the occasion. He's happy he's here, happy he got to take the girls here, but he knows he'd rather be somewhere else. He feels guilty for that. 

“I fucked up, okay?” Steve admits defeatedly.

Robin leans her head on his shoulder. “I know you did. I know you know you did. Question is: is this going to be repeated?”

“No,” Steve says. He doesn't believe it and he can tell by Robin's huff that she doesn't either. 

“Gimme your phone,” Robin says.

“What? Why?”

“Just hand it over.”

Steve holds his phone to his chest. Looks at Robin seriously. “Don't tell him off or something. Don't read our texts!”

“Ew, I don't want to read your texts,” Robin sneers as she takes the phone from his hands. “I'm just gonna change his contact name.”

Steve looks over her shoulder and sees her typing “DONT PICK UP IGNORE IGNORE IGNORE” is now Eddie's contact name. 

“Surprised you didn't just delete it,” Steve mumbles, wincing because maybe he shouldn't have given her that idea. 

“Because I know you have it memorized. No use blocking his number either because he has your socials. But take this as a reminder that you deserve better than him.”

Steve's mouth opens and closes, an argument dying on his tongue. It's not that Eddie is a bad person, necessarily. He's a little much sometimes but deep down, he is rather sweet. Very nerdy, very animated. Very thoughtful. It's like he could make the perfect boyfriend if he just let go of his inability to commit to anything that's not his music. But Robin's right. Steve is monogamous at heart and deserves more. 

So tell him why he’s standing outside of Eddie’s door not even three days later?

Eddie answers with a shining smile that has Steve clenching his fists. 

“Next time, you’re coming to my place,” Steve states as Eddie pushes him up against the door. Eddie drags his tongue up Steve’s neck, causing his knees threatening to buckle. 

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” Eddie answers.

Steve doesn’t hear anything else beyond moans and incoherent ramblings. It’s like the second Eddie gets his hands on him his brain goes “Blah, blah, blah.” 

#they wouldn't leave my brain ever since i heard the song yesterday #this may become something one day but i am starting wips like it's my fucking JOB i just need to finish something #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie au #emily writes

[back2bluesidex]

Forbidden - KNJ (18+)

Pairing: Professor!Namjoon X Student!Fem reader

Theme: SMUT, PWP, Forbidden relationship au.

Summary: You know it's forbidden but you don't care, not when your professor is more than ready to ruin you.

Word count: 1813

Warnings: professor fucking a student, cumming on her ass, strong language, spanking, slut shaming, Joon hits it from behind, unprotected sex (it's a no no), domish Namjoon.

Minors are NOT welcomed in this blog!!

✨✨✨✨

Forbidden - “Not permitted or allowed” 

There is not a single part of the definition that you don’t understand -- Yet you can't help it.

All of your life you have been an exemplary kid. Be it academics, be it code of conduct, be it discipline, you have always excelled in everything. But you were never nosy about it. You kept yourself humble but quite reserved at the same time. You know well which lines cannot be crossed and which ones can, that too, when you should cross them. 

With a pair of big doe eyes and a heart full of enthusiasm, you stepped into this university. All set to achieve your dream degree. 

However, some of it changed when this one particular person walked into your life. 

“I clearly remember asking everyone to do their own parts even if it’s a group project. Didn’t I?” Kim Namjoon, your physics professor, says with his baritone voice. Hints of anger evident in his expression. 

“Yes, professor.” You and your project partners chant in unison. 

“But I got this feeling that two of you haven’t even written a single word.” Namjoon crosses his hands on his chest as he supports his weight on the table. Your eyes follow his every movement. The way his chest flexes against his tight turtleneck, it's illegal. You inhale sharply trying to shoo away the intrusive thoughts that are starting to cloud your mind. 

“No professor! We did as we were told” one of your partners almost shouts in her defense. You resist the urge of rolling your eyes. You know Namjoon is right, because you were the one to do the entire project. Park Sun Mi was way too busy with her baseball captain boyfriend and Lee Jae Min was way too high to come down and use that one left brain cell to do the project. You had no choice but to do the entire thing alone. You can’t afford to lose points because of your unworthy partners, even if that means giving them the scores they clearly don’t deserve. 

“Is that so? Then you should have no problem in appearing for a test based on the project in my office after your class hours.” their mouths fall open at Namjoon’s suggestion. 

“But professor-” Jaemin starts but Namjoon cuts him off,

“No ifs and buts. Report directly to me after your classes are over. Is that clear?” Namjoon says in a very authoritative tone. There is no room for any objection any more. Neither that you would ever object, you would rather spend an hour or two taking an unnecessary test in his presence than going home and resting. 

“Yes professor.” again you three answer in unison. 

“Leave” your professor orders. You are about to turn your heels when he orders again, “Y/N, I need to talk to you. You two leave.” You catch Sunmi rolling her eyes at you.

Your heart reacts faster than your mind. It starts to beat menacingly in an instant and you don't know how to act normal. You can’t really wrap your head around the fact that you are getting a piece of time to spend alone with the man of your dreams, your guilty pleasure, your forbidden desire, Kim Namjoon. You are so lost in your head that you didn’t even notice that Namjoon has been ogling your exposed legs. However, he soon composes himself and clears his voice to claim your attention.  

“Y/N… I didn’t expect that from you.” His voice is mixed with disappointment and anger, maybe? 

First of all, this is the first time in two semesters’ time, he has called you by your first name only, no suffix or prefix to burden the weight. Secondly, you don’t know why but, him being angry with you sends tingles down your spine. It definitely should not be like this. Had it been any other time, you would have probably sulked or cried your eyes out because you disappointed your mentors but…. This time it’s different. This time it's Namjoon. 

You don’t say anything in your defense. You know Namjoon understood that you did the entire project alone the very moment he read it, when it was supposed to be a “group” project. You are no better than your partners. You were on your way to give them free points for your own selfish needs. So, you hang your head low, avoiding his eyes. 

He marches towards where you are standing and comes to stand right in front of you. 

You curse at the proximity he has chosen to tease you with. 

“sorry, professor” you apologize with your small voice. 

“I think you are intelligent enough to know that your apology will not be enough, Y/N” he breathes out. The anger and disappointment in his voice are now gone, now those are replaced by something akin to darkness. 

“Professor, I-” You are immediately interrupted as Namjoon puts his index finger below your chin and tilts your face up to make you meet his eyes. Another round of shivers run down your spine as you perceive his siren eyes and the looming mischief in them. 

“Don’t you think you deserve some punishment?” Namjoon takes a step towards you as you take a step back. 

“You have been acting like a bad girl lately-” another step.

“-bad girls deserve punishment and I knows how to treat brats like you.” your ass comes into contact with the first row of desks. With blown out pupils you stare at your professor and try to comprehend the meaning behind his words. He, on the other hand, seems to be enjoying the way you are already submitting yourself to him. 

“Profe–” he cuts you off again, 

“Shhh– turn around” he orders and you comply without sparing a second thought. Your morals and rationality have feld through the open window long ago. 

You turn around and stand back-facing him. He places one of his giant hands on your shoulder and lowers your upper body down enough to perk your ass up. Your heart thumps as if it would burst out of your chest any given moment. Anticipation of what might happen in the very next moment, makes you leak. For a moment you think that you are dreaming. There is no way your daydreams are taking the shape of reality, you ain’t that lucky. But the next moment, you are proved wrong, when you feel Namjoon’s rough hands brushing right below your skirt’s hem. He bunches your skirt up and reveals the supple flesh of your perked ass. One of his palms creases down your butt through the thin material of your panty. He hooks two of his fingers on the hem of your underwear and pulls that down in an instant. 

And before you could accept the fact that you are now butt-naked in front of your hot professor, thinking of whom you hit your high every other night, a tight slap lands on your right ass. You yelp, eyes start stinging with tears right away. 

“For working on the entire project alone.” Namjoon groans.  

“Fuck” you curse out loud. 

Another slap lands at the same spot. “For concentrating more on my arms and thighs than the white board.” You gasp for air. 

Another slap. “For wearing these short skirts and driving me crazy.” 

Fuck, did you really drive him crazy? 

The last slap lands on the same spot. “For making me do something so forbidden.” 

You are drooling, both by mouth and cunt, by the end of the spanking session. Namjoon massages the fat of your ass as his other hand travels towards your cunt. He drags his slender fingers through your slit once and then parts your folds to gain access to your clit. You start to breathe heavily but stay still and let him do whatever he pleases. 

“Tell me to stop before I do something wrong, Y/N” his thick voice causes you to leak more. 

“No. don’t stop. I- I have wanted you, professor, for a long time now.” 

“You nasty little slut, do you think it’s okay to fancy your professor like this?” Namjoon says through his gritted teeth. All the while, his fingers probe into your cunt bringing a delicious friction and stretch with them.

“Fuck! So tight!” Namjoon exclaims. The more he discovers your tightness, the more his nails dig into your ass. 

You moan some incoherent curses and those arouse Namjoon even more. 

“You like it, don’t you? You like being corrupted? By the professor you desire? Hmm? A model student like you but so nasty inside?” He says with his husky voice. 

“Yes, professor. For you, only for yo-ah fuck” Your head starts to spin when he scissors his digits and stretch your walls even more. 

“For me? Yeah? Then do you want my cock?” he presses his thumb on your clit. 

“Yes. please.” you choke out, and that’s the confirmation Namjoon needed. He removes his hands from your body once for unbuckling his belt and setting his cock free. Once the deed is done, he slaps his thick meat on your ass. And fuck, you never knew you had so much of juice left inside of you cause you are leaking again. 

“Spread your legs.” he orders and you comply. 

He enters you bit by bit. At first it's just the tip and then he is half inside and then he is balls deep into you. The stretch is dreamy, far better than what you imagined and you want it all. 

“Should I move now?” His considerate voice makes your heart flutter and that’s a territory you don’t want to cross. You nod and he slams his hip into you. 

You arch your back. Namjoon wraps his hand on your waist to keep you in place as he starts thrusting into you mercilessly. 

The desk starts shaking violently but he doesn’t stop, neither do you want him to. You don’t even care if anyone is hearing you two doing things you definitely should not. With a vice-like thrust he hits your g-spot and your cream his cock without any warning. 

“Fuckfuckfuck” namjoon curses as he struggles to keep the pace. You know he is close as well. He pulls out his cock and cums all over your ass. His cum drips down the globe of your ass down your thighs and the scene alone makes him wanna fuck you again. However, he is a man of control. 

He let the beast out once and that should be enough. He knows you are a forbidden fruit and he should not touch you ever again. But the question is, can he contain himself? Especially when you turn around and seal your soft, sweet lips into a tempting kiss while both of you are still naked enough to start fucking again? Especially when you are so willing to be ruined by him and the bad boy in him roars to life. 

✨✨✨✨

#bts smut #namjoon smut #bts x reader #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #bts x you #namjoon fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #BBHTY series

[yeehawbvby]

Can you do an Arven x f! reader who likes to wear his shirts?

Of course!! I'm sorry it's a bit short/if there are any errors, I was super tired while writing this ;;w;; I hope you like it! 💕

Snug as a Scatterbug | Arven x F!Reader

Rating: G | WC: 688

The first time you wear one of Arven’s shirts, he’s very puzzled.

Standing at the doorway to his room, he watches you work. He left a few moments ago to grab some snacks, and when he came back, the last thing he expected to return to was his girlfriend standing topless in front of his closet. At first, this leaves him speechless and flustered.

Then, he observes as you pick his favorite, comfiest, yellowest sweater out of his wardrobe and toss it over your head. This is where the confusion ensues.

“...What are you doing?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe while his lips curl into a grin. 

You stop flattening out the hem of his sweater, freezing in place. You’ve been caught red-handed. Rather than explaining yourself, outwardly panicking, or apologizing, you simply mutter, “Don’t worry about it,” before continuing to situate yourself in his clothing. You don’t even turn around to address him. 

He won’t lie to himself – something about seeing you with his shirt engulfing your tiny frame has Butterfrees going nuts in his stomach. There’s something simultaneously adorable and hot about the sight of you in his favorite article of clothing; about how the fabric reaches your knees, and the sleeves go past your hands, creating little paws when you lift them up. Not knowing how exactly to respond to this situation, Arven decides to leave it be. 

The next time you wear one of his shirts, it’s his white uniform top. ‘Why that old thing?’ he silently wonders.

You two don’t even have classes to attend that day – you’re just grabbing sandwiches at the local Every Wich Way. The shirt you had on originally matched your outfit more than this, too – your pastel pink leggings worked better with the pastel purple hoodie you had on up top. 

Feeling his cheeks burn hot when he peers down at the way his dress shirt drapes over you, he decides once again not to question it. It’s not like you’re gonna keep stealing his stuff, right?

…‘Again?!’ Arven thinks to himself the third time. 

He left you alone to take a shower and change after a long day outdoors with your teams, and when you return to him, another one of his sweaters is consuming your torso. This one is a black, Shiny Wooloo wool turtleneck that he bought while interning at a restaurant in Galar a few years back.

“I gotta know,” he prompts, getting up from his spot on the couch and walking towards you. “Why do you keep taking my shirts?”

Your cheeks redden, and you look away from his face. “Thought I told ya not to worry about it, punk,” you sass.

Arven laughs. “I’m not worried, I’m just confused.” You try to walk by him, but he stops you with your ultimate weakness: head pats. As his large palm lands on your scalp, you stop in your tracks. “I don’t mind you wearing my stuff, it looks adorable on you anyway,” he reassures you behind a wide smile. “I just wanna know why.” 

You sigh, before bashfully answering, “Your clothes are really cozy, and they smell good.” You fidget with the oversized sleeves around your hands, finally looking up at him. “Feels like you’re constantly hugging me when I have one of your shirts on... It’s nice.”

Arven nearly keels over. ‘So cute!’ If this man wasn’t already head over heels for you, he definitely would be now.

From that point on, Arven goes out of his way to offer you his clothes. Oh, you wanna stay over for a night? Screw those pajamas, take one of his tees instead. 

Is it chilly out? Toss one of his sweaters, maybe even one of his jackets, over your own shirt to keep warm. 

Not seeing each other for a few days? He’ll offer you half his wardrobe. “That way you never run out of hugs!” he proclaims, making you feel warm and fuzzy inside. 

Now that Arven knows your “secret,” he might love seeing you wear his shirts just as much as you love wearing them, if not more.

#arven pokemon #arven x reader #pokemon arven #pokemon x reader #pokemon sv #pokemon scarvi #pokemon scarlet #pokemon violet #pokemon scvi #trainer arven #rival arven #pokémon arven x reader #pokemon arven x reader #no use of y/n #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon fanfic #arven fluff #fluff #arven x female reader #female trainer #arven x f!reader #anon

[atinyniki]

special order.

group: stray kids !

pairing: nonidol!han jisung x f!reader

genre: fluff, hardly any angst

warnings + additional info: reader is referred to as y/n, jisung is referred to as ji, mentions of sex, reader has very bad nightmares, jisung has minor nightmares, jisung gets sick, crazy ex, some one bed scenes, seungmin is jisungs roommate, reader is a waitress

authors note: i think this is actually the cutest thing ive ever made. this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)

wc: 4623

jisung makes his way to the restaurant, excited to get back into dating after so long. he tugs on his black fitted turtleneck, the necklace making it feel rather uncomfortable.

he takes a deep breath, staring at the sign to make sure it’s the right restaurant. haven. the name makes it sound peaceful. 

he enters the restaurant, automatically being greeted by the woman at the counter. “the reservation is under han jisung, ma’am.”

she checks her list, “for two?”

he nods, and she brings him towards the table, placing two menus on it. “your waiter will be with you shortly.”, she bows. 

jisung reads through the menu, getting more anxious as time goes on. maybe she’s just running late, right?

he checks his watch again, she should’ve been here over twenty minutes ago. suddenly, he was knocked out of his thoughts by a voice coming from beside him. 

“hello sir, my name is y/n and i will be serving you today. what can i get started for you?”. he jerks his head up to look at you and butterflies erupt in his stomach. this had to have been the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

he stares at you, a little wide-eyed, and then finally processed your words. “oh yeah- uh- is the jjampong just one serving?”

“yes sir.”

he smiles at you, “alright then, i’ll have one jjampong on the milder side and the gimmari.”

“alright, will that be all sir? any drinks?”

“a coke is fine”

you nod, smiling and swiftly making your way into the kitchen. his heart finally seems to calm down, the fidgeting of his fingers coming to a stop.

he sits patiently waiting for his food, when the empty seat in front of him starts to haunt him again. he’s just been stood up on a date. of course he feels bad about it but, if he hadn’t, maybe he would have never seen you.

you come back with the food not too long after, smiling at him. “enjoy your meal”

he smiles back, nodding. “thank you ma’am”

the aroma of the food alone is enough to satisfy him, and he grabs his utensils quickly. he takes a sip of the broth, the heat engulfing his tongue immediately.

maybe he shouldn’t have gotten jjampong, he’s bad enough with spicy foods. he takes a sip of his coke, almost spitting it out because it burns so bad. he fans himself with his hand, breathing dramatically.

he turns his head to see you again, this time from a far distance on the other end of the room. you’re staring at him, bursting into a small fit of laughter and covering your mouth when he sees you. you can’t contain yourself.

he manages to smile back, giggling a little on the process. of course it was embarrassing, but he had to admit, it was pretty funny.

you walk over to the table to approach him. “everything okay here?”

he looks at you again, “oh- yeah it’s okay just… a little spicy.”

you laugh again, the sound is music to his ears. “yeah, i could tell. and that’s just the mild version”, you say as you walk off. 

he smiles a little to himself again, the moment not seeming as embarrassing as it normally would be. he takes another sip, slowly getting used to the spice. 

the meal was amazing, he’d have to come back here sometime. maybe he’d order something else though…

“no i’m serious she was so beautiful”

seungmin rolled his eyes, “yeah yeah sure she was”

jisung frowns a bit, trying his best to focus on the game but he couldn’t. thoughts of you plagued his mind, he felt weird. creepy, almost. what kind of guy simps for a girl that he’ll probably never see again?

lightbulb moment !

“oh my gosh, that’s it!”

seungmin looks at him, confused. “what…?”

“huh? oh- nothing”

they both continue playing the game, jisung losing majority of the time due to his distractions. seungmin finally leaves and jisung dashes towards his bed.

he takes out his phone, quickly calling the number to haven.

“hello?”

“hi! this is-“, he couldn’t even let the lady get through her introduction.

“can i set a reservation on saturday at seven?”

he enters the restaurant again, now in a more casual outfit. he greets the same lady as last time, and she brings him to his seat, a reservation for one.

“thank you ma’am”

he waits, hoping that he’ll see you again, when suddenly, a familiar voice snaps him out of his thoughts. “hi again! what can i get for you today sir?”

he jerks his head towards you, a grin on his face appearing when he sees you again. you don’t question it, just assuming he’s in a good mood.

“could i get the beef bulgogi and the gimmari with a coke?”

you smile at him, “the bulgogi is a good option, it’s not as spicy”, you say with a wink. “it’ll be out shortly sir”

you walk out, disappearing behind the set of doors leading to the kitchen. his heart thumps in his chest at the sight of your wink. he tries to distract himself again, waiting for the meal.

as soon as he sees his plate, his mouth starts watering. he takes a bite of the beef, eyes widening instantly. it had a little kick to it, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

it was so good that he just continued stuffing his face. both sides of his cheeks puffed up due to the food in each side, and he turns his head again.

you’re staring at him from across the room once again, smiling at him. you couldn’t help but find him adorable with those cute cheeks of his. you shook yourself of those thoughts, getting back to serving.

a light pink blush taints his cheeks, and he slows down a little bit, embarrassed that you saw him like that. it’s not like he could resist though, the food at haven is amazing.

he’ll try to make a reservation every week from now on.

weeks pass by of trying new menus and having small conversations with you, jisung becoming a quick regular at haven just to see your face. 

his favorite was the japchae and he found himself eating it most saturday’s he was at haven.

he decides to be bold this time around, feeling more confident in himself after beating seungmin four times in a row.

“hey jisung! what can i get for you today?”

“can i get the galbitang with a coke and your number please?

“of course! will that be a- wait, what?”

he looks at you, nodding expectedly and waiting for an answer. you quickly nod and rush to the kitchen, putting in the order for him. your heart beats erratically in your chest, why does he want your number of all people?

you come back with his food, giving him a smile and a folded slip of paper. you leave not to long after, continuing your job. jisung quickly unfolds the paper, face lighting up when he sees the ten digit number. 

he eats happily that day, smiling every time he sees you. you can’t help but smile back.

jisung <3: come over already! he’s dying to meet you

y/n: shut up, i’m getting ready. you can’t just rush beauty like mine

jisung rolls his eyes at your snarkiness, but he couldn’t deny it. you truly are beautiful, but he didn’t really think you needed to do much to look pretty.

some twenty minutes later, jisung hears a knock at his door, jumping up and dashing towards it. he flings open the door to see you standing there. his jaw hangs low.

his eyes trace your body up and down, you’re in a cute little skirt paired with a beige sweater. hes never seen you in such attire, only ever a black button up.

you shy away a little bit from his gaze, a nervous smile appearing on your face. maybe it was a bit much for just a game night.

“hey…”

he was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts. “oh- what? sorry- come in”, he chuckled nervously.

you walk inside, taking in your surroundings. there’s a boy sitting on the couch looking at you, you assume it’s seungmin.

“hello! it’s so great to finally meet you”, you say.

“it’s nice to meet you too y/n, ji has told me a lot about you”, he smiles.

jisung rolls his eyes, leading you to the couch where all the gameplay happens. the three of you sit on the same couch, gaming for hours on end. you were a lot better than jisung thought you were.

he ended up last in every match… just like always.

you and seungmin both found fun in laughing at him, watching as a pout made its way into his face. you smiled at how adorable he looked, you just wanted to pinch his cheeks and kiss the pout away.

it’s late at night now, and you’re about to walk yourself home, when seungmin stops you. “it’s pretty late to walk outside all alone is it not? you can stay the night if you’d like, we don’t mind.”

you turn around, smiling, “thank you for the consideration, but these clothes aren’t very… comfortable”

“that’s no problem! i’m sure ji can lend you some”, he says with a smile.

you watch as jisungs face goes red, and you can’t help but accept the offer. “that’s fine with me then, thank you guys”, you smile sweetly.

seungmin walks into his room, winking at jisung on the way. jisung leads you into his room, picking out a comfortable t-shirt for you to wear as well as a pair of shorts.

you quickly change, wanting to get to bed as soon as possible. you’re exhausted from all the yelling and gaming that took place tonight. you walk out of the bathroom, jisung even more wide eyed than when he saw you at the door. his heart fluttered at the sight of you looking so cute in his clothes, but he decided not to speak on it.

he grabs the blanket from the chair, walking out the room. “wait! where are you going?”

jisung turns around to face you. “what do you mean? i’m sleeping on the couch?”

“what!? no! i’m sure there’s enough space for the both of us”

he smiles at you, a little skeptical about sleeping in the same bed as you. “are you sure?”

you nod, and he swiftly slips into bed. you cover yourself with the blanket, the warmth providing a sense of comfort, and you allow yourself to fall asleep.

you wake up to jisung spooning you from behind, to be quite honest, you were very confused about how you got there, but you didn’t really… mind it. it actually felt kind of nice.

you held his hands that wrapped around your waist, the warmth spreading through your entire body. “you up y/n?”

you jolt when you hear his voice. “holy shit- sorry i didn’t know you were up yet”

he laughed a bit, stroking your hands soothingly, “sorry, i didn’t mean to startle you.”

you giggle, finally getting out of bed. the two of you get ready, and you pack up your clothes before you leave.

all of a sudden, you hear a knock at the door. “ji! someone’s here”

he walks over to the door, opening it and his heart sinks immediately. “hi jiiii”, she says in a sweet tone. it’s his ex, his most toxic one at that. 

his tone completely changes, even scaring you a bit. “what the fuck do you want.”

she lets herself inside, eyes meeting yours. anger courses through her veins at the sight of another girl in jisung’s clothing. “who the fuck are you?”

you couldn’t bring yourself to answer, too confused about the situation going on. she begins approaching you, fists clenched at her sides. “why the hell are you wearing his clothes?”

before anything can happen, jisung stands in front of you. it doesn’t stop her from talking though. “he’s mine, not yours.”

“i am not yours. you cheated on me. you made a fucking choice. now get the fuck out before i call the cops on you.”

all of a sudden, a loud noice makes you shut your eyes quickly. did this bitch just slap him?

he slowly walks towards her, backing her up towards the door. “don’t fucking come back”

he shuts the door, letting out a long breath. “oh my gosh i’m so sorry… are you okay?”

you smile at him, “yeah i’m fine, no worries.”, you bring a hand up to his cheek, “are you okay?”

jisung smiles at the contact and the softness in your voice, butterflies erupting everywhere again. he nods, trying to fight off the blush that creeps up on him.

“can i walk you home? i uh- i don’t want her to like… hurt you or anything.”

you take his hand in yours, walking across the sidewalk on the way to your house and talking about some more hangout plans for the future. everything felt so natural with him.

this had to be more than just a silly crush, right?

“ji?”

“are you up?”

“mhm… just drowsy”

“i’m sorry, you can go back to sleep. goodnight”

you let out a sigh, finally processing his words in your sleep ridden state. “what’s wrong ji?”

the other end of the line stays silent for a moment. “i had a nightmare…”

you honestly find it cute that he called you of all people for comfort. “do you wanna talk about it?”

“mmm no… i just need a distraction.”

you quickly get out of bed, continuing to talk to jisung while you get ready. “y/n, are you okay? you sound a little out of breath”

“what? yeah i’m fine”, you say as you approach his house. “open the door, im here”

“what?! you came over?”, he asked incredulously, “but i’m not even ready?”

the call disconnects, and you hear footsteps approaching the door. jisung opens it for you, his hair still messy from laying down and his bloodshot eyes stare right at you.

“you wanna go for a walk?”, you smile.

he thinks about the offer for a moment. there was no way he could get back to sleep anytime soon, so why not? “sure”

you take his hand in yours, dragging him down the steps and onto the sidewalk. he runs after you, chasing you all the way to the playground until you trip over a rock and fall onto the concrete with a thud.

he quickens his pace to get to you faster and help you up, “are you okay?!”

his breathing quickens, he feels guilty for letting this happen to you. he holds you close to him, faces only inches apart as he grabs onto your arm.

you’re flustered by the proximity between you two, but he doesn’t seem to notice yet. he’s far too concerned to really process it anyways. “i-i’m okay, i just scraped my elbow is all…”

he pulls away from you, gently picking up your arm and turning it to see what damage has been done. “i’m sorry…”

you turn his head back towards you, “it’s okay, i promise. it doesn’t even hurt that bad.”, you giggle. he manages to smile back at you somehow, your laugh putting him at ease.

you quickly open your backpack, taking out the bandage and gauze you keep in there, along with the alcohol. before you can do anything, jisung picks up the alcohol.

“i’ll do it.”

he begins to clean your wound, apologizing every time you wince due to the stinging. he places the gauze on it, wrapping the bandage around tightly. “you’re all set”, he smiles softly at you.

you smile back, and your eyes catch onto the swing set. with no warning, you jump up and head to the swings. “last one to the swings is a rotten egg!”

he laughs at your playfulness, “that isn’t fair! you left me to clean all this up!”

he makes it to the swings almost a minute later after packing up everything. you laugh at him for being so slow. “hey, it wasn’t even my fault!”

“fine, how can i make it up to you?”

he stands beside the swing you’re on, “push me.”

you laugh, “push you? okay!”

you quickly get off the swing, pushing him onto the mulch with both your hands. he looks up at you incredulously, a playful scoff leaving his lips. “i meant on the swings, dumbass”

“i know”, you reply with a smug smile while helping him up. he gets on the swing, waiting expectedly for you to push him. he shivers at the feeling of the cold air hitting him as he went higher and higher.

small squeals left his lips, giggling every so often. you cant get over how cute he sounds. your heart swells every time you hear a little noise escape.

“okay, you don’t have to push me anymore you know.”

“i know, but it’s fun.”

he can see the sun light peaking over, the dark blue sky filled with small clouds.

after a little while, he drags his feet across the mulch, coming to a full stop on the swings. “why’d you stop ji?”

“it’s your turn now!”

over the past month, it’s become more of a habit. everytime one of you needs a distraction, the other figures out something to do. it’s been a while since you’ve had a nightmare, waking up to your bed covered in sweat and tears felt uncomfortable.

you did the only thing you could, you called jisung. “jisung…?”

your voice quivered as you spoke, your hands struggling to hold your phone still. “hm?”

“ji i need help. i had- i had a nightmare”

“what? oh gosh- i’m on my way.”

you can hear how fast he runs towards your house, loud footsteps and breathing from the other end of the phone. even through all the struggle, he tries his best to talk you through it.

the rain pours on him, but he couldn’t care less in that moment. he arrives in just under ten minutes, knocking frantically on your door. you disconnect the line, opening the door to see him completely drenched head to toe.

before you can even say a word, he wraps you into a hug, droplets of water dripping onto you. you don’t seem to really process the dampness of your clothes anymore, holding onto jisung tightly. 

“are- are you okay?”, he asks softly, not to startle you. you pull away a little to look at him and nod, slowly beginning to process his state.

“ji, are you crying?”

he clutches onto your shirt, “i’m sorry… was just really worried”

you smile at him, wrapping your arms around him again. even with how the rain water dripped down your back, there was an odd warmth filling your body.

he finally pried himself off of you, smiling a little awkwardly. “sorry… let’s go now?”

you raise an eyebrow, “what do you mean?”

“i have to take you out somewhere now, don’t i?”

“but it’s… raining?”

he giggles a little bit, “since when have you ever cared about that?”

he grabs you lightly by the arm, dragging you out into the rain. the two of you talked a little louder over the rain this time, arms interlinked.

the rain seemed to calm down about an hour later, leaving both of you shivering and cold in the wind. you both head back not too long after, wanting to get a change of clothes. 

you figured you’d give jisung his shirt and shorts he gave you the night you slept over. you arrive at your house, unlocking the door and walking in. 

you wonder why jisung doesn’t follow, and you turn around. “aren’t you coming in?”

he looks up at you again, “what? i thought you wanted me to go home?”

you shake your head, leading him into your home and locking the door behind you. you quickly grab his clothes and hand them to him, “sorry, i never gave them back”

he smiles, “that’s okay”.

the both of you change, drying your hair and finally settling on watching a movie. the sleep finally catches up to you while you’re on the couch, the warmth emitting from jisung immediately putting you to sleep.

light snores fill the room, and jisung turns off the tv, carrying you to the room lightly as to not wake you up. he sets you down on the bed, careful not to wake you up. it doesn’t quite work though.

“ji?”

he turns around to look at you again. “hm?”

“can you spend the night? just… just in case?”

he smiles at you, the hallway light illuminating his face. “of course”

he slips into bed next to you, incredibly quiet as to not annoy you in your sleepy state. “you can breathe y’know, it’s not the first time we’ve done this”

he laughs, “sorry, i didn’t wanna wake you”

you grab his hand from under the sheets, bringing it up to the pillows. “goodnight ji”

his face burns red at the sudden touch. your voice echos in his ears for several moments after. “night, y/n”

you wake up to a sleeping jisung, his arms wrapped around you and a light pout on his face. you smile at him, bringing your hand up to his forehead to stroke the hair out of his face.

you immediately stop when you feel the heat on your fingertips. “ji? ji wake up.”

his eyes slowly flutter open. “mm?”

his eyes go wide at the sound of his voice, and he tries to clear his throat, coughing into his fist in the process. “ji, i think you’re sick.”

he frowns a little, finally taking in the pain of his throat. you quickly rush out of bed to help him. you take his hand and lead him to the bathroom, unboxing the extra toothbrush you have and handing it to him.

you both get ready for the day, jisung doesn’t say much due to the pain, but you don’t seem to mind. you lead him to the kitchen, making him a hot cup of ginger tea to soothe his throat.

he watches intently as you make the tea, and you hand it to him some minutes later. “no sugar?”

you smile, “i use honey. try it.”

he takes a sip tentatively, careful not to burn himself, and the hot liquid instantly alleviates the pain in his throat. he hums in approval, finishing it pretty quickly. 

you check the time, it’s almost two in the afternoon, so you decide to call off breakfast and make lunch instead.

”ji, can i make some jjampong?”, you see the skeptical look on his face. “on the milder side”, you giggle.

he smiles, nodding slightly. “thanks”

you grab the ingredients from the freezer, but you realize you’re missing something. “ji, do you have your phone on you? i need to look something up and i left mine in the other room”

he hands you his phone, unlocking it for you, and you click onto his browser. you look up the ingredients, making sure you have all the essentials, when a text from seungmin pops up. 

rabid dog: omg jisung

rabid dog: did you finally sleep with y/n

rabid dog: >:)

oh god.

you swipe them away, focusing on the task at hand and check over the list. it doesn’t seem like you’re missing anything, so you hand jisung the phone and get back to work.

you start making the jjampong, still thinking about the text. why did he emphasize “finally”? does jisung like you or something? you decide to ignore it and make the jjampong instead.

you don’t put too much chili paste into it, making sure it’s altered to jisung’s liking. some forty minutes later, you grab two bowls, pouring the soup into each.

“enjoy”, you say with a smile. jisung tentatively takes a sip, holding onto the glass of water beside him just in case. his eyes went wide, immediately talking another sip.

you giggle, “good?”

all he can do is nod, stuffing his face with the food. you both finish not too long after, and you lead him to your bed again. “you need rest ji”

he nods, making his way towards the bed. “hold on, let me text seungmin so he knows im over at yours”

you nod, and you sit down on the bed next to him while you wait. you watch as his face goes red reading the text, and you can’t help but smile. 

he slips into bed not too long after, and you instantly wrap your arms around him to provide more warmth. he hums in satisfaction, nuzzling closer to you. “i love you…”

“i love you too”, you confess, without missing a beat. he looks up at you, wide eyed, “i- what?”

“i love you, jisung.”, you say with a bright smile.

he smiles back, hugging you again. “i’m sorry… it just felt like the right thing to say in that moment.”

you stroke his hand with your thumb, “it’s okay, i didn’t realize i was saying it until i saw you look back up at me”, you giggle.

you pull away from him for a moment, grabbing his chin with your fingers. “can i?”

he takes a moment to process what’s happening, giggling and then finally saying, “you’ll get sick.”

“i don’t care. please?”

he leans in tentatively, not wanting to rush you, but you meet him halfway. the kiss is soft, full of love and affection.

your hands find home in his hair, and his hands dig deeper into your waist. your lips disconnect not too long after, the kiss leaving you breathless.

“go to sleep now yeah? i’ll be here when you wake up”

he pulls you lower so you’re laying down in the bed, and he buries his face in your neck. “thanks pretty…”

you giggle at the pet name, “we’ll talk when you’re up, yeah?”

“mhm”

“can i have a table for two ma’am?”

“of course jisung! enjoy your meal”

he makes his way to the table, a little later than usual. his face lights up as soon as he sees you, the same bright smile on your face once you see him again.

“hey baby, what can i get for you today?”

he smiles at the pet name, “you”

your eyes widen, a pink blush covering your cheeks. “what?”

“your shift ends in about ten minutes right?”

you nod. 

“then once you’re done, sit down with me. please?”

you smile, walking over to him and giving him a little peck. “fine, but you’re paying”

he pulls you in to give you a proper kiss, “fine by me”, he says with a wink.

you quickly finish your shift, getting ready for your little date. you sit down with him, grinning ear to ear. “hi…”

he looks at you with adoration in his eyes, “hi pretty”

the waiter arrives at your table, “hi y/n, hey jisung, what can i get for you both today?”

“could we get two of the jjampong and the gimmari? oh! and two cokes please.”

“wai-“

“alright we’ll get that started for you, have fun!”

jisung turns towards you again, a quizzical look on his face.

“well, if you’re going to be spending the rest of your life with me like you told seungmin, you better get used to having spicy food everyday.”

he smiles a little at your logic, “anything for you”

you take his hand in yours above the table.

“i know”

<3

#skz #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #atinyniki #stray kids angst #skz fanfic #han jisung #jisung x y/n #han x y/n #han jisung angst #han jisung fluff #han x reader #han jisung x reader #stray kids han #han jisung stray kids

[kuromiiy]

mami

.pairing. seonghwa x reader

.warnings. sexual content, fingering (male receiving), uses of mami/ other petnames, seonghwa in a dress

.synopsis. seonghwa wearing a dress lets some urges loose

You never thought someone could turn you on so much, to the point where the pleasure turned into something else.

To the point where you jumped your gorgeous looking boyfriend the second the interview for “Elle Singapore” ended.

When you first arrived in the backroom, you truly had no clue what would be waiting for you, so when you walked in and you saw seonghwa and the others answering questions over a big screen, dressed so elegantly and divine in sheer, revealing and mostly very feminine clothing…something clicked in you.

Your eyes practically glued to seonghwa, following every single movement he makes, even the very one of his lips as he speaks or smiles. He looked ethereal in that black sparkly and might you add, tight fitting turtleneck, like the shinestar he was and you always called him when you wanted to see him shy. They all looked too good to be true and you completely forgot about your coffee in your hand, the reason you were so late to begin with. Only about 10 minutes later, they finished, bowed and started walking back to where you were now standing one by one.

You couldn’t help but smile, greeting Hongjoong, who walked in first with a tight hug, telling him how beautiful he looked but these words very quickly died in you throat, actually, you almost choked on them as your vision fills with your very boyfriend coming in after the leader. To say that you’re awestruck would be an understatement because never in your life would you have expected to see seonghwa wear a dress, not the normal turtleneck you thought.

He walked over to you, clearly happy to see you’re here, hips looking quite full as he sways them. Or at least thats how it looks to your horny brain. He’s leaning in for a hug and you’re not quite sure what possessed you to grab his hips like that, pulling him flush to you, his shocked but flustered face giving you the rest.“Love, i thought you couldn’t make it” he says, wrapping his own arms around your shoulder.

“I would never miss one of your interviews darling” you barely whisper, not being able to to speak up, not trusting your own voice. You squeezed his hips, mostly unaware and you just had to address. “I never would’ve thought to see you in a dress, i was quite surprised just now. You look divine my love” Of course he blushed, looking now real shy as he thanked you, “I had other options but i saw it and thought, hey, just give it a shot. I feel quite confident in it, to be honest”

He had every right to feel that way. You couldn’t stop holding him close, touching him and feeling the pretty thick and expensive material underneath your fingertips and it definitely doesn’t goes unnoticed how he’s squirming in your hold.

Long story short, you couldn’t even remember the way to the hotel, stumbling into the room the two of you shared, all you knew was seonghwa, bend over the nearest surface you saw, this god damn dress hunched around his pretty hips, his pants he wore underneath being dismissed somewhere as you fingered him open. His sweet moans only fueling you more, grabbing him tighter, as afraid he would slip away, he wouldn’t.

“Fuck…love, slow down a bit” he moans and you would consider it if it wasn’t for his greedy hole to follow your every movement. “Your pretty hole doesn’t look like it wants me to slow down mami” and you knew, calling him mami had him weak. And it’s proven correct because his hips stutter slightly, as you finger him deeper, hitting that sweet spot of his and his little whines tell you he fucking loves it. Maybe, just maybe, there was a slightly different reason he decided to give that dress a chance.

But you couldn’t think further, the only thing inside your head being you fucking him in that dress, so hard until he was a moaning, twitching and so so beautiful mess.

You were sure, after all this, you’ll never stop dreaming about him, all dressed up for you in pretty dresses, no underwear always so ready for you…god, you really hoped this sight has tattooed itself behind your eyes because you were not yet ready to forget about it.

#ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x gender neutral!reader #seonghwa in a dress #seonghwa for elle singapore #sub!seonghwa #dom!reader #hes so sexy #i wanna fuck him so bad #going berserk #ateez seonghwa #hongjoong x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #yunho x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #yeosang x reader #first time writing #kpop #kuros work

[haecien]

SEVENTEENS reaction to their s/o being scared/screaming about bugs.

Note: I have no idea who is & is not scare of bugs in svt... this is just my interpretation!! If there is a video/post about this tell me!!! also fun fact, a Cockroach was roaming around my room while writing

Warning: mentions of killing, the word die😭 all of this is jokes, none of these are real! slight cursing!

Genre: fluff, jst fluff

766 words 3,883 characters

C.SC -

At first he thought you were dying when he heard your blood curtailing scream, turns out there was a fly just roaming around and it happen to just touch your face.

Now he has learned to carry at least 1 tiny can of bug spray just for you, it gives him a heart attack over your screams. He finds it a bit cute whenever you clung to him after seeing a bug near you.

Y.JH -

Same reaction for the first time of coups. But.... instead of comforting he just... almost teased you to death/j

He'd secretly hide those fake toys of bugs ALL around your shared house/apartment/...idk any living place lmao

You'd almost kill him for doing that, still gets you everytime. Ofc he made it up to you, he is still your boyfriend after all

" Hey... come on I'm sorry! I forgot to remove itt"

*silent treatment*

H.JS -

He would try to calm you down at first, if you were still wailing about the bug he would try and kill it or carefully place it outside.

He would endlessly caress you and tell you that you're alright

(Bro im giggling)

"Joshua i swear ill love you til I die" " Then die😊🤭" /j

(If ykyk)

W.JH-

Who knows he'll eat the bug, jk. He would prob scream with you, he'll act up like " I'll protect you! " then comes running back to you terrified

" YOU DIDN'T TELL ME IT WAS THAT BIG " " WAAAHAA I KNOW... "

Eventually he sucked it up and very "bravely" shoo shoo away the bug. BEGONE! " You know! I was just acting, I wasn't really scared... " " Totally.... "

K.SY-

" AAAAAAAAA " Wow is HE more scared than YOU? Yes, a matter of fact he is.... " You know i've seen tigers beat bigger enemies... yet you're scared of a single bug?? I guess you're not really a tiger. "

Those exact words, they made him furious and he quickly got a broom and vigorously whacked the bug away! In times of need you just made him question his identity as a tiger.

J.WW-

Honestly, would be kinda chill. He carefully took a piece of paper and a glass and scooped up the bug and placed it outside.

He asked if you wanted to play with him to help you calm down, you said yes NEVER wanting to set a foot outside right now. (Ok now imagine resting your head on his broad ass shoulders while playing and he'd run his fingers through your hair)

L.JH-

Same reaction as Wonwoo, BUT It would take him awhile to come down from his room😭the time he came down you'd almost started thinking of burning this entire house to the ground. (No reason, i keep thinking about the fluffy hair jihoon with THE black turtleneck shirt that's kinda tight)

X.MH-

So... Fuck it he's letting you take care of it/j yeah he's gnna flame that bug, BURN THE WITCH! If he mocks you about this you would bring up the thing with him and frogs😭(if you don't know I remember seeing a video of seeing minghao being scared of irl frogs but not animated ones ex: keroppi)

K.MG-

Hes a big boy... but he's just a puppy tbh, LITTERALLY LOOK (I got off track sorry HAJSJSK Free gyu pics ig HAHA)

Deff is also scared of the bugs too, poor baby just stood there frozen while the bug flew on his face. Prob had to call a friend to help you HAHA

L.SK-

You know he's gnna hit those high notes, who's going to help you both in this state oh my god. "YOU'RE THE MAN. GO GET IT. " the bug flew away before you both could even do anything " Sunshine i drove it away!! " ".... YaaYyyy.... " *dies*

H.VC-

" HANSOL... " he looked at you confused literally deadass holding the now DEAD bug in his hands " what do I do with it? Throw it o-- " "NO! " bitch I thought you were scared of it " ... ill just do whatever "

B.SK-

He gets scared easily too so... hajimalago/j would be sassy about it " Why don't you get it! You saw it first " kind of guy you'd end up bickering with him too much that the bug decided to just dip out

L.CN-

The only guy who actually protected you HELP, you'd move to another room and let him take care of it. He'd keep reassuring you that you were fine and that the bug was gone, no more bugs will bother you anymore

#seventeen #cienlvrs #caratsland #seventeen fluff #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen ot13 #svt jun #svt wonwoo #joshua svt #svt woozi #svt fanfic #svt fluff #svt x reader #svt #svt mingyu #svt minghao #svt scoups #svt vernon #svt seungkwan #svt dino #svt dk #svt jeonghan

[pix3lplays]

Ehehe.

Trying on Argenti’s clothes won.

Of course we all know I can’t help myself and I’ll be doing both but I Must do what the people want-

Cw! suggestive subjects, reader is honestly a bad partner, going behind Argenti’s back by sneaking into his room, stuff like that, kinda angsty somehow

-Trying on Argenti’s clothes-

Argenti is a very traditional gentleman.

A very: let’s wait until marriage kind of man. A very chaste man.

You’ve never shared a bed with him, never even been in his bedroom, nothing like that…and you loved him, and you respected and valued your relationship with him, but you were beginning to feel…lonely in your relationship with Argenti.

Oh you hated the thought of betraying him like this.

But he expressed that he would be busy for a long while piloting the One and Only, and when you had walked by…you noticed his room was unlocked.

And before you knew it…you had slipped inside, as silently as you could muster.

His room is small, given it was on a spaceship, but elegant and elaborate.

He has a desk, with a vase on it, filled with roses.

An image depicting what Idrila might look like hangs on the wall.

And a couple of photographs of you and him decorate the room.

But your eyes first land on his bed. Put together, of course, you couldn’t imagine Argenti not making his bed in the morning.

Plush and fluffy blankets and pillows called to you, and you find yourself running your hands along them, and soon you’re laying down, throwing the blankets over you and burying your face in his pillow, taking in the scent of Argenti.

Roses, of course, and expensive, spicy vanilla cologne.

You can only roll around in his sheets for so long before you get tired of it though. You carefully slide out of bed and do your best to remake the bed…

And you tell yourself to leave. To stop snooping around your boyfriend’s room, reminding yourself that you’ll really break his heart if he catches you.

But your eyes land on the closet.

You remember he’s not wearing his armor right now.

So if you wanted to…you could give it a try.

You know better. You KNOW BETTER. You really, really shouldn’t.

But your fingers are wrapped around the closet handles, and you swing open the doors.

There’s his armor, pristine and clean and shining white and gold…along with his other clothes, all crisp and clean and smelling nice and now you’re pulling on one of his shirts, tugging at the collar, way oversized on you.

Okay.

Step one done.

You had already come this far. May as well try on the armor.

Only.

You don’t know where to begin.

You’re able to get the legs on at least. But unfortunately you drop the chest plate.

Making a loud, unpleasant clang-

You feel the familiar sound of the ship switching to auto pilot, followed shortly afterwards by: “y/n? Are you okay, my dear?” and the sound of his footsteps echoing quietly in the halls.

Saying anything would give you away. So you opt to be silent. Which just makes him even more worried.

You just have to helplessly remain quiet while he scours the ship for you. You can HEAR him becoming more desperate. “Y/n? Y/N?!”

Finally, you can’t bear to hear the panic rising in his voice. It breaks your heart.

“In here, Argenti…”

The sound of the frantic searching stops, and you hear him running in the direction of his own room, before he stops, and hesitates.

Finally the door slides open.

“Y/n? Are you alright?” he’s almost scared to hear the answer, he’s so worried about you.

But when he catches sight of you, there you are, half-dressed in his armor, wearing one of his turtlenecks, a chest plate carelessly abandoned on the floor.

“I-I can explain-“

“Y/n.”

He looks so…it’s hard to describe.

Hurt?

Uncomfortable?

Disappointed?

“You…shouldn’t be doing this,” he says, approaching you.

You’re not scared of him. You’ve never been scared of Argenti. But in this moment you’re afraid of what he’s going to say.

“I’m…I’m sorry…” you say, knowing your words mean nothing. You KNEW better. You knew this was a blatant violation of his trust and your stupid, impatient nature just got the better of you.

“Y/n…I Really don’t want to have to have this discussion with you…” he’s saying, working at helping you remove the armor. “I feel you already know what I’m going to say.”

“Yes. I’m sorry, I’m So Sorry, Argenti…”

‘You have broken my trust.’

He shushes you, gently, but with enough force to tell you he was serious about you needing to be quiet right now.

A few moments of painful silence pass between you while you liberate yourself from the armor.

Once you pull off the shirt is only when he speaks again.

“Please just…refrain from speaking to me for some time. I need to consider this carefully.”

Now you’ve done it.

You’ve shown him that he can’t trust you.

He might be seriously considering breaking up with you.

You slink out of his room, murmuring your empty apologies, feeling tears well up in your eyes and silently cursing yourself out for being so Impatient towards him.

He doesn’t talk to you for the rest of the night, and that evening as he’s laying in bed he finds the evidence of your other trespass.

Your scent was lingering on his sheets.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #Argenti #Argenti x reader #Hsr Argenti x reader #honkai star rail Argenti x reader #yes it’s overly Angsty I KNOW-

[morganbritton132]

Okay but after that flight twitter threat. Do Eddie and Steve see that threat at some point? Who shows it to them? What are their reactions? Do the gossipy news pick the story up? Does Eddie get asked questions about it in interviews?

I Love it and I have so many questions

They do see it!

Steve actually sees it first because Robin saw it first. She sent him a screenshot of the thread, but conveniently left out the tweet where the person realized it was Eddie and Steve. She texted him like, “This you?”

Steve’s like, “Whoa, you can’t have a conversation anywhere nowadays. It’s worse than when the FBI was actively bugging our phones.”

Robin texts back, “Hi to the FBI agents currently bugging our phones.”  

Steve says, “Yeah, hi.”

And that’s that for Steve.

Eddie, however, tracks down the original thread and Corroded Coffin’s official twitter account responds with a picture of Eddie’s ‘vintage’ SpiceWorld Tour t-shirt that he got in ’98 when the fruity four went to their concert. He’s like, “Yeah, they’re not very metal but are you gonna tell me that The Lady’s a Vamp isn’t an absolute banger? I think not.”

Then he goes to bed.

And the internet does what it always does and jumps to a conclusion that’s based in nothing. People are trying to figure out if Eddie was sitting next to his husband or if there is a cheating scandal on the horizon. The OP doesn’t remember what Turtleneck looks like and Eddie hasn’t posted anything since he reminded people about his interview.

By morning, the gossip sites are running stories about his rampant cheating. Eddie is throwing away ten years of marriage to his sick frail husband for plane sex with – gasp – a woman! Or a younger man! Or John Travolta of all people.

Eddie responds to all this with a Tiktok.

In the video, he starts out filming an article on his laptop about how he’s in New York right now cheating on his husband. He pans from the article up to Steve shoving their stuff back into their suitcase. Steve’s hair is a mess. He’s half-dressed and clearly tired, and there’s a line of hickeys tracing up the scar on his neck.

Eddie zooms in on them before panning up to Steve’s face. Eddie says, “Babe, did you see this? I’m cheating on you.”

“What, right now?” Steve asked, clearly just humoring him. He deadpans, “I’m devastated.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. I thought I was coming to New York to do a silly little interview and spend some time with my husband but, nope. I’m currently having sex with – Matt Damon. Really? If I’m blowing up my marriage, it’s not with actor equivalent of plain toast.”

“I’m embarrassed for you.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”  

#Eddie: that turtleneck is gonna come in handy huh? #eddie munson tiktok saga #eddie munson #steve harrington

[jesuschristmattyhealy]

bleak midwinter

(this is the first thing I've written in ages pls pls be nice! Also, I know that it is neither cold nor snowing in London right now but I simply don't care!! this is literally just domestic cuteness because that is what I have brain power for <333 goodnight)

It’s biting cold. So cold they’ve said on the news that the dogs shouldn’t go out for any longer than it takes them to pee. So cold that your dad is texting you from home that you should buy a space heater for the basement so the pipes don’t freeze. 

“Tell your dad if I’m buying a space heater it’s to shove up my own arse so I don’t turn into an icicle in my own living room.” Matty enters the room as you read him the message, clutching a blanket shawl around his bare shoulders. 

“Have you thought about starting with a shirt, sunshine?” You ask, tugging the fleece fabric tighter to his chest. 

“I did, but then I thought you’d rather stare at my ripped man muscles all day,” He jokes, flexing under the blanket. His hair is unbrushed and falling in competing angles across his face. 

“Ugh, you know me so well,” you laugh, pinching his arms, “Thank God for my big strong man and his big strong man muscles.” 

His voice deepens to a grunt, “Big strong man hunt mammoth throw spear light fire.” 

“Yeah, could you actually? It’s worse than the North Pole in here.” 

“Should we walk the boys first? That way we don’t yunno… burn the house down.” 

“We’re ignoring the weathermen’s advisory?” You ask, waving your phone screen at his face to reiterate. 

He sighs, “Okay, well then you get to tell them that they’re only allowed out for five seconds and deal with them looking at you like you ran over their friend for the rest of the day.” 

As if on cue, Mayhem and Allan lumber into the kitchen, jowls quivering at the prospect of the word “out.” Ever since you moved in with Matt, the dogs have become as much yours as they are his. Matty swears they love you more than him. And it’s true. You can’t resist their droopy faces and old man frowns. 

“Okay, fine,” you relent, huffing, “But they have to wear their blankets and their boots and possibly even a scarf.” 

“Right, that can be sorted.” 

He runs off upstairs to pull on something for the blustery weather while you root through the baskets by the front door to find the dogs’ blankets and winter boots. Matty made relentless fun of you for buying them, saying that no way would it ever get cold enough in London for them to use them. And then he’d seen the awkward, baby giraffe prance the two creatures did when the boots went on. He was so entertained he began searching for excuses to put them on. 

You pull each dog into your lap, cooing apologies and encouragement at their stiff limbs and whale eyes. 

“You’re going to look so handsome in your boots!” You remind them, to no avail, “All your neighborhood friends will be so jealous.” 

Neither animal seems convinced. Next are the blankets: green for Mayhem, red for Allan. You scrounge up a couple of crochet neck warmers you made back during lockdown that have become the dogs’ (your first designs were too rudimentary for human use). The two stand blankly in the entryway, staring up at you, a pair of disheveled and disdainful babushkas.  

“Right love, I brought you an extra jumper because that one’s not nearly warm enough, and I think you should wear these.” Matty rounds the corner, fully dressed now and very much resembling Joey Tribiani a la “The One Where No One is Ready.” He’s holding the sweater of his that you love to steal, and a pair of NorthFace snow pants that you haven’t touched since going home to visit your parents last Christmas. 

“Wearing enough clothes there, gorgeous?” You pull lightly at his two turtlenecks. 

“Time will tell, darling,” he quips, pulling a balaclava over his unruly curls, “Get your pants on then, would you.” 

“I’m going to look like a stuffed turkey in these,” you protest. 

He looks at you, “Love, we’re the only ones dumb enough to be outside right now, who are you worried about seeing you?” You purse your lips which he takes as invitation to steal a kiss, “C’mon, you’ll be the cutest stuffed turkey on the block.” 

You pull the snowpants on in a rustle of movement and fabric. He turns to the dogs who are still frozen in position by the door, unwilling to move a toe in their boots. 

“And who are these dashing gentlemen!?” Matty coos, rushing over to the dogs to tug gently at their ears, “Are you boys ready?” 

You love the voice he uses for the dogs, a high pitched, horse squeak that seems so uncharacteristic coming from a man who dresses in leather and cowboy boots on the daily. In the morning, while he’s feeding them before coming back to bed, you’ll lie awake and listen to the monologue running in the kitchen — asking if the doggies had sweet dreams, asking why Allan was whimpering in the middle of the night, asking where they should go walking today, quipping “the usual boys?” as he sets the dishes down. 

“They were born ready!” You say, straightening up from pulling on your fleece lined boots. 

“Right, then let’s go!” 

You open the door and the wind hits your little group like a cement wall. Within the first five seconds of exposure, your eyes are watering and your nose is dripping ferociously. Over the howling gusts, you can hear your boyfriend’s indignant complaints. 

“This is by far the most ridiculous idea we’ve ever had, I mean what are we doing, it’s literally cold enough to castrate me.” 

“Okay, okay,” you gasp, “We’re walking two blocks and turning around.” 

“And then is it Virgin River time?” 

“Virgin River and fire time, very much so.” 

“That’s all you had to say.” 

And he’s off, pulling Allan down the stairs and through the front gate. You and Mayhem can only stiffly follow in their footsteps, Mayhem taking each step as if stepping down into the Grand Canyon. Allan has stopped to pee on a tree and Matty is hoping up and down next to him. 

“I didn’t wear enough clothes,” he moans as you get closer to him. 

“Oh, poor man,” you pout, looping your arms and running a mittened hand up and down his bicep, “Is this helping?” 

He closes his eyes, scrunching his nose dramatically, “Emotionally yes, physically, not really.” 

“Oh dear, well let’s keep it moving,” you stick your hand in the jacket of his puffy coat and find his, “We’ll think warm thoughts.” 

He nods, “Sahara Desert, I am in the Sahara Desert and it is so hot.” 

The four of you walk as quickly as you can down the sidewalk. In a way, the silence of the cold is sort of pretty. It hasn’t snowed in a while and the remaining piles of snow are frozen into the concrete, glittering menacingly in the steely sunshine. There are rarely cabs or cars in your neighborhood, but today there isn’t even one. You can hear the window panes rattling in your neighbors' homes. You understand what they’re singing about in “In the Bleak Midwinter,” that silent frost that hangs over your head, a threatening promise, an empty maw. 

You’ve barely made it three house fronts when Matty suddenly announces, 

“Right lads, have you both pissed? Can we go back?” 

The dogs peer up at him as best they can from beneath their shawls. Allan does a full body shake. 

“Taking that as yes,” he turns the two of you in a half moon and sets off again at a brisk pace, a horse going back to stable, “I’m going to drink so much tea when we get back, you’re not even going to believe it.” 

“I’ll join you in that,” you mutter, tucking your chin further into your favorite wool scarf. 

You tumble back through the front door, a cascade of static electricity and shivering limbs. Matty hurries off in one direction to start the fire, and you in the other to turn the kettle on. You’re rolling the sleeves of his sweater up and over your hands and debating turning the oven on just so you can stick your freezing hands in when you feel a pair of hands on your shoulder. 

“How’s it coming?” Matty mutters in your ear.

“It’s not going half as fast as I need it to,” your teeth chatter around the words, a full body shiver pulsing through your body. 

“You know what they say about watched pots.” 

“I know, but I don’t know where else to look.” 

“How about at me?” He asks with a hint of indignation. 

“Oh, okay,” you giggle as he spins you around so that your hands can loop behind his neck. His curls are rough from the cold and goosebumps rise across his rosy skin. 

“Let’s never go back outside,” he mutters, burying his face in your neck. His hands wind themselves in the excess fabric of your sweater, his thumbs brush the bare skin at the base of your spine. 

You sigh, “But what if we need something?” 

He grumbles a laugh, “I have half a Sainsbury’s worth of tea, Jack and Mel, the dogs, the fire, and you. I don’t know what else I could possibly need.” 

You smile, inhaling. He smells of the wood stove, tobacco smoke and the vanilla lotion that he keeps swearing he isn’t stealing from you. 

“You’re right. There's nothing else.” 

#matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #the 1975 fic #I'm genuinely so nervous to be writing again oh no #hope you enjoy !!

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim #53: Healing Right

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: recovery, (past) vampire whumper, broken bones, past loss of bodily autonomy, offscreen surgery, emotional whump

Whumpmas in July Day 18: Ache

back to this guy :)

-

Jim rubbed at the bump on his arm where the bone didn't heal quite right, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. The bone on his forearm went at an angle, up and up, before suddenly dropping off where it met misaligned with the rest of it going to his elbow. Bones, they'd told him there were two, but it was easier to just think of it as one.

It hurt, but it wasn't a bad hurt. Jim knew bad hurt. It was a dull ache he'd gotten used to over the past two years. It didn't hurt like the snap when Kane cracked Jim's arm open with his bare hands anymore, and he had pain meds now anyway. He'd tried to get on some stronger ones, but Liz had told him it wasn't a good idea, that he'd get hooked. Jim wasn't very good at disagreeing with people anymore, so he just took her word for it.

But he'd get some now for sure. Even Liz said it was okay this time. Because he had to get his arm re-broken.

Every day as the operation got closer, the dread grew more and more. He knew it wouldn't be like the first time. He'd be conked out, and he'd be allowed pain meds, real pain meds. It wasn't a punishment, and if all went well, his arm would be fixed. No reminder of Kane every time he looked at it. Probably no dull ache. It was even his own choice.

They couldn't fix the scar on his neck, neither the mark or the pain, so this was the best he could do to scrub off any lasting reminders Kane had left on his body. Liz's friend Laken had suggested a tattoo to cover it, but the idea of a needle going into his neck was so horrifying that the thought made him want to throw up.

But he could do this, at least. Even if breaking his arm again would be scary, he needed to claw his body back for himself. He needed to know it was his again, not Kane's. No matter how much it would hurt.

“I don’t belong to anyone. My body is mine. I’m out," Jim whispered to his reflection. Afraid to say it any louder, like Kane would be able to hear and swiftly correct him.

He got dressed, hiding his neck and arm under a turtleneck. He'd started dressing in them every day, though he knew he would need to take it off for the surgery. One more thing to dread about it, but he told himself it was worth it.

"You ready?" Liz asked as he came downstairs.

Jim shrugged. "As I'll ever be, I guess."

-

The operation was a success. If there was anything at all to thank Kane for, it would be that he'd made a relatively clean break.

Jim's arm hurt like hell when he woke, but he knew it wasn't as bad as it would be without the meds. He had a cast this time, and a real sling, not one he had to make himself. His friends kept wanting to sign the cast, but something about it made him wildly uncomfortable in a way he couldn't explain.

He knew the old him would have jumped at the chance to have all his friends sign it. Probably would have given out points for who could draw the best doodle. He was practically a social butterfly when he was nineteen, before Kane got to him, but now it just seemed like he kept finding more and more disconnects with his old friends. They had jobs and babies and memories of the past five years together, and all he had were Kane and panic attacks.

Even though his friends kept reaching out and inviting him to stuff, he was too neurotic to act like his old self. It felt like putting on an act, it felt wrong. And being his real self was even worse: he didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want them to know.

His cast remained unmarked.

-

He woke with a scream a week after his surgery, his arm exploding with pain, far worse than it'd been during his recovery.

Jim looked around wildly, but couldn't see the source of the pain in the dark of his room. He sobbed, clutching his arm protectively to his chest. He'd been so badly-behaved lately that he couldn't even pinpoint what it was he was being punished for.

He flinched back into the headboard with a whimper as the door flew open. "Please don't," he begged, trembling.

"It's okay, it's just me," Liz soothed. She sat down next to him. "Nightmare again?"

"No, I don't- I don't think so?" Jim struggled to catch himself back up to reality, but with the haze of sleep leaving his mind and Liz's presence grounding him, he came to the conclusion it wasn't a punishment at all. "I hit my arm in my sleep," he realized. "Sorry for waking you. Didn't mean to."

"You're all good," Liz assured him. "I wasn't even asleep. Getting myself back on schedule for when I go back to work."

Jim's stomach turned at the thought, even though it was no surprise. "What if something happens to you?"

"Someone's gotta protect people from 'em. Plus, I know we live in the cheapest place in the country, but I've gotta get back to work," she pointed out.

"There's other jobs. I'll get one again too, once I'm better. You could just... not go back." As much as Jim hated living by the border, the fact that it was so cheap to live here at least gave them some leeway. At least they didn't have to worry about rent, even though selling the house was nearly impossible if they ever wanted to move.

Liz patted him on the back. "Not for me, there isn't. It'll be okay. I won't be alone, and I've been doing this for years with no issues."

"What about that?" Jim pointed to the scars on her face, faded claw-marks running dangerously close to her throat.

"That barely even counts. You should've seen the other guy. Dead, for what it's worth. Most vampires won't even fight us, they just decide it's not worth the trouble and run back home. It's gonna be fine." She gave him a quick hug. "You gonna be okay to go back to bed?"

"Yeah. Just... be safe. I can't lose you again," Jim said quietly.

Liz gave him a sad smile. "I know how you feel. I'll be as safe as I can. Just go back to sleep."

True to his disobedient streak, Jim couldn't manage to fall back asleep, mind racing with fear. Liz getting taken by vampires, subjected to the same hell as him, or having her mind stolen from her entirely. Kane showing back up to steal him away in the night while Liz is off fighting other vampires, arriving home too late to help. Jim reached a shaking hand under his pillow and took his stake- a real one this time- and held it close as he sobbed, trying to be quiet and not disturb Liz again.

He could only hope his arm would heal better than he was.

-

i'll be putting out two one-shots next! one about a fairy whumpee on friday, and one about an alien whumpee on monday. after that, more Jim in Distress!

event: @whumpmasinjuly

taglist in reblog!

#kane and jim #whump #vampire whumper #my writing #whumpmasinjuly2023 #wij23day18 #recovery whump #broken bones #emotional whump #whump writing

[aestherin]

privacy

11: are you my heart?

NOTES Hello! Sorry for the very late update haha this took me way longer than I thought it would?? That's it I have no excuses bahahaha </3 My very first attempt at writing a written chapter (semi?) im so bad at this omg apologies in advance abdhadhaha Anyways, I hope u guys enjoy!! 🤍

"The heck?" You muttered as you saw Ayato waiting for you silently in the lobby.

Aside from his mask and sunglasses, he was wearing almost exactly the same thing as you. Well, except the bottons on the upper half were open, revealing his turtleneck underneath. Your sightseeing was immediately cut short when he walked towards you.

"Good morning, love," he beamed.

As he reached your spot, he leaned in playfully, bringing his mask down using those slender fingers of his. "Missed me?"

"I think you missed me," you smiled sweetly. Attempted to, at least. "Seeing as how you're bringing your face so close to mine."

If Ayato were to be truthful, he really did. However, the prideful Kamisato (albeit a worshipper of even the mere ground you walk on) does not wish to lose a game he started himself.

"Come now, love. Just admit you missed me just as much, seeing as how you're not pulling away from me, hmm?"

"Using my words against me? That's not fair."

He just chuckled as you finally got to distance yourself away from him. With arms crossed, you gave Ayato the eye, scanning him from head to toe. "Are you sure you weren't trying to copy what I'm wearing?"

"I was already at the lobby when you messaged me about your outfit, [name]," the man grinned. "You're really good at assuming things wrong."

It was embarrassing, really. To have Ayato win every single argument. No matter who starts the banter, it's always him who gets the last laugh.

Therefore, you, who shared that prideful trait with him, swore to one day win at least once against him.

For now, you just ignored Ayato and walked straight towards the entrance of the building, but you suddenly felt him tug on your shirt's fabric. "What?"

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Outside?"

"I parked at the back. Less exposure that way, hun."

"Oh."

"Well, fuck."

The back, was in fact, not deserted. No. Not at all.

Contrary to what your companion thought, it was now swarming with... pests.

"When, how, did the media get to the rear parking lot?" Ayato started rambling, keeping you close next to him as his right arm was placed around your waist and the other trying to protect your face from the continuous flashes.

You rolled your eyes in an attempt to fakely mock him. "I can't believe I agreed to be in a fake relationship with someone dumb. If I knew you'd be bringing your flashy sports car again, I would've just called for a taxi."

"Excuse me? Me? Dumb?" He sighed, backing down. "In my defense, I just wanted to give you the most comfortable experience possible."

"Yeah, running from the paparazzi is real comfortable, love."

You heard him laugh, making you smile too despite the situation at hand. "Well, love, I didn't know they'd follow me here. And for that, I apologize."

"By the way, Ayato. Seriously speaking," you poked his side. "I can manage. Prioritize yourself."

"No." Even through his mask, you can note how his expression slightly changed. His jaw. His jaw freaking clenched so fucking attractiv— No. Stop. Oh my God self.' "You're my priority, [name]."

Oh.

Wow.

At that very moment, you wanted to go to the hospital because you were certain that something was very very wrong with both your stomach and your chest. 'I think there's been a glitch. Is my whole system in error? What the heck?'

"You really have a crush on me," you joked as the two of you were still looking like idiots trying to avoid getting drenched by the rain... when really, you were just trying to get past through the nonstop flickering of lights.

"Oh wow. How did you know? Was it that obvious?"

"Shut up."

"What if I really do?"

"No you don't."

"Are you my heart? How would you know my feelings better than mine?"

"Feelings are processed by the brain."

"So? You're not my brain either. My point still stands."

"God, stop."

----------

-----------

"[Name], this is Hirotatsu. Hirotatsu, this is my lover, [name]," Ayato motioned towards the guard standing near the gate.

Hirotatsu bowed his head to you, even going as far as placing his hand over his chest. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, madam. Sir Ayato has been talking about y-"

"Ahaha," your boyfriend started pulling you away from the well-built man and towards the main frontyard. "I think this introduction's been a little too informative." He then guided you towards an old woman, all while muttering something along the lines of how his security personnel should have 'keeping-mouths-shut lessons', or something like that.

He introduced you to everyone outside the estate, every single person there, including the housekeepers, the guards, his staff, as in everyone.

It was as if you really were his girlfriend that he was bringing home to meet the family.

"What about your p-" Flashbacks of the time you saw the articles about this renown actor (also now your fake lover) being an orphan stopped you. "Hmm?"

"Your power bill? How much is it? Your house is so so huge how do you afford to pay the bill?"

The blue-haired man let out a laugh before smirking at you. Suddenly, you felt a light flick on your forehead. "Hey! What -"

"Well, love, it just so happens that my net worth is also so so huge."

You made a face.

And again, he laughed.

"Would you like to tour the inside now?"

"I'm tired."

"Then let's rest first. Inside."

You groaned.

----------

Unbeknownst to you, the people previously introduced to you were enjoying the endearing scene playing in front of them. Who knew their young master would ever be so fond of someone to this extent?

Yes, the people of the Kamisato Estate find banters endearing. Don't ask why, don't judge.

"The lady that Sir Ayato has been talking to me nonstop about is very attractive indeed," Granny Furuta stated. "I really do hope they last and end up together."

privacy — ayato x reader smau

prev. masterlist. next.

TAGLIST I (still open!)

@catsrkool @sukunasrealgf @redactedhimbo @layla240 @mxlkytea13 @itsactuallylina @milza12 @aixaingela @tatiratty @kimiesstuff @laventiseriou @kunihaver @bibisbestgirl @lunaavity @coquettemaiden @opchara @slvdsjjk @cotton-eee @lady-elodie @dearxiiao @wheneverthesunrise @heartswonder @chuduchok @r1tas @lleoll @vnderthesunn @lizzardlady1234 @nekogakuro @rifran @atlatcaheart @ani-st @creammpuff @lunastarjay @kittycasie @poisoned-candy-apples @zannivrs @b0bafl0wer @moonlightaangel @elsoleil

#privacy smau #ayato x reader #genshin impact #genshin #kamisato ayato #kamisato ayato x reader #genshin smau #ayato smau #aestherin #genshin celebrity au #modern au #genshin modern au

[crowborn666-writes]

Could I request a one-shot of platonic Aizawa comforting his student who accidentally reveals a bunch of old sh scars? I myself have a bunch of scars on my neck and arms that are very noticeable, and I've always been self-conscious about them. I'd just really like some fluff and comfort.

I completely understand if you're not comfortable writing about this, so feel free to ignore.

Hero Suit

(Of course dear!!! I’m more than happy to write you some comfort <3 hope your days are well!)

Aizawa x Student!Reader

Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Platonic

Summary: Your hero suit didn’t come back how you wanted, and your teacher offers some advice.

TW/CW: mention of sh scars, of depression, and of insecurity

(Your gender should not be mentioned in this, tried to keep it gender neutral as usual!)

~~~~~~

You frowned down at the fabric on your skin, not liking how short the sleeves were, nor the lack of a stretchy turtleneck on the collar. You’d designed it that way for a reason, and of course whoever was in charge of your suit messed it up.

Sighing, you habitually glanced around for your jacket, only to remember it was in the locker room.

“(Y/n), seems you change quick.” Aizawa commented, marking you as present on the clipboard he had.

“Yes, sir. The others shouldn’t be too long now, although I heard Mineta causing trouble from the hallway.”

“Of course he was.” Your teacher sighed.

You were thankful he had the clipboard in hand, nerves of him noticing starting to creep up on you.

Anyone who’d noticed before either asked too many questions, made a big deal out of it, and some decided to make you feel bad about them.

You turned away, anxiously awaiting your other classmates arrival when you felt a gentle hand grasp your arm and lift.

Oh no…

Aizawa was glancing over the pale, faded lines that cut across your skin, expression unreadable aside from his lips having been pulled into a thin line.

He let go at the first slight tug you gave, his hand falling back to his side as he glanced to your exposed neck next.

“…Have you had any urges lately?”

You quietly shook your head, staring up at him like a deer in headlights.

Aizawa nodded. “You don’t have to hide your scars, but if you still want to, we’ll have your suit fixed as soon as possible.”

“…Okay.”

Your teacher offered you a small smile. “I’m here if you need to talk. You’re not the only one who’s insecure about their scars.”

Days came and went, but when one particular lunch rolled around you were nearly dizzy. Too much for one day, you got your lunch and poked your head into Aizawa’s classroom. He’s offered to let you eat in there if you or anyone else got overwhelmed.

He gave a small wave from his desk, sipping on his coffee as he graded papers.

You took your usual seat, a small sigh leaving you as you set your things down. You ate quietly, rather quickly, and it didn’t take Aizawa long to notice.

“Bad day, (Y/n)?”

You nodded first, but quickly followed it up with a “Yes.”

“You’re free to talk about it.”

Silence followed after that, debating on where to start or if you even wanted to talk about your thoughts.

“Just… dealing with some sensory overload, I guess. The sleeves of my uniform are making my wrists itch, and I think someone saw the scars on my neck cause they kept staring…”

Aizawa nodded along, silent as to hear you as your voice grew quiet in some spots.

“Well, you’re free to stay in here and relax. Next class is hero training, right? I hear they fixed your hero suit, so hopefully that’ll help.”

You nodded with a smile, watching as Aizawa stood to shut the door as a few louder students walked through the halls.

You were glad to have him as your teacher, so in tune with his students’ needs, even if it never seemed that way at first.

#mha #bnha #fluff #mha x reader #bnha fic #bnha x reader #mha fic #gn!reader #aizawa x teen!reader #mha shouta #mha shota aizawa #platonic #aizawa x student reader #aizawa #aizawa shouta