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moonlightspencie · 1 year

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bloodmoonlit

Description: Six years of friendship with more simmering beneath the surface. They thought they had no chance (but that’s romance).

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: drinking (a lot of it tbh), both of em being massive dorks, 18+ pls bc it gets mildly spicy at the end

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: glitch is one of the best songs on midnights & nobody can convince me otherwise. anyways i didn’t proofread this sorry but i’m selfish

She was a hunter. He was… Also a hunter. Classic meet-cutes get a lot less cute when you’re meeting over the corpse of a wendigo.

Dean looked at her with awe and wonder after watching her use a flamethrower to take down a few wendigos that had started in on him. She lowered it like it was nothing after they stopped screeching into the night.

“Hey,” she greeted with a little smile. “You’re one of the Winchester boys, aren’t you?”

“Dean.”

“You’re like a modern-day folklore story, you know that?”

He chuckled, sure to make a comment about the flamethrower at the first chance. He got her number at the second chance.

They made fast friends at that point, both relentlessly flirting. Both never quite sure to what degree the other meant it.

Dean always found himself making trips towards wherever she was more often that what may be considered necessary. She never intentionally ran into him, but if she saw that impala roll up to a case, she always obliged her time. Especially if that meeting happened in a crowded bar where she could relish in the feeling of his attention being placed on her rather than anyone else who would immediately say yes to a night at his motel. Those green eyes sparkling as he chatted her up like they were the closest of friends.

Until they were the closest of friends, of course.

“How’s, uh…” Dean trailed, trying to think. “Was it Matthew?”

She snorted. “Didn’t last long.”

“Why not?”

“Never do,” she said curtly, sipping at her drink. “Non-hunter relationships don’t exactly work for me. They end up with too many questions too quick.”

He hummed, looking down at his own drink. She watched him for a moment, letting herself take a moment to admire the way neon lights bounced off his face. He always seemed to look extra pretty that way.

“Situationships,” she stated as a start, “That’s what pretty much everything I get into ends up as. Whatever works in the moment, no real strings.”

“And yet you always talk about wanting to be tied down,” he said with a smirk.

“Always is a big word,” she replied with a laugh. “I think someday I’d like that. Just don’t think it’s compatible with who I am right now.”

“You think you’re gonna change?”

“I’m always changing. That’s life, right?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve changed much.”

She laughed.

“I’ve known you for a year, and even in that time you’ve gotten a little different.”

He quirked a brow. “How so?”

“Laugh a little less, but still seem a bit happier. More accepting of life as it is, I guess.”

He sat with that for a moment, then nodded.

“I’ve had to. Every time I get stubborn, I end up screwing everything up.”

“Hey,” she said softly, pulling him out of his own head before he dug too deep, “You’re always learning. Always growing. Don’t beat yourself up.”

He smiled softly, letting her words carry him out of that out. They tended to do that more and more as he faced everything the world threw at him. His affection slowly morphed into more, and he tried not to panic about it. He did what he always did best: buried it as deep as it could go.

She realized her own feelings shifting, but her realization slammed into her like a truck. They were supposed to be just friends.

It all started with little chance meetings which turned into weekly calls which turned into “Do you want to stay with Sam and I? We’ve got a permanent place now”.

She ended up moving in shortly after the boys did. Three years of knowing them, she never expected to be living with them. Especially after all they’d gone through.

Granted, she helped with some of it. She was there when they had to cram Sam’s soul back in his body. She was there for the rise and fall of Dick. She was there when Dean came back from Purgatory.

She just wasn’t constantly with them. Only a kind of side-character in their grand adventure. Now, however…

“I think that’s all,” she said, dropping a few bags on her bed.

“Oh, right, because this isn’t over-doing it at all,” Dean said, humor lacing his voice.

She narrowed her eyes at him, then looked back around the empty room.

“I just— I’m excited to feel at home. I haven’t had a real place in…” she stopped, sighing.

“Yeah, I get it,” Dean spoke up, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “I was so excited to have my own bed, you have no clue.”

“I have some clue. You sent me like fifteen messages about it within the span of ten seconds,” she laughed.

“I love that memory foam, what can I say?”

“How about you get useful and help me set up shop here?” she asked, smiling at him as he already started pulling items out of the bags.

The bunker was like a hunter paradise in her eyes. She got the chance to have a place to call home. She got her own room, a million lore books, Dean, a place to do some baking, her favorite mug…

Wait. She couldn’t find her mug.

“Dean, where’d you put my mug?” she called out before he even got to the kitchen

“Stop calling me out before I’m even in the room. It’s creepy,” he said with a chuckle, walking in.

“Can’t help it. I know how you sound walkin’ around in here.”

She turned from the kitchen counter where the coffee was brewing. He watched her for a moment, smile still stuck in place.

“So?” she asked.

He raised a brow. “So…?”

She sighed. “My mug?”

“Oh,” he exclaimed, walking further towards her to open the fridge. “Made soup the other day and didn’t have any clean bowls.”

He pulled out the soup-filled mug, handing it in her direction. She quirked a brow, looking inside of it.

“I ain’t cleaning that out.”

He sighed dramatically, walking towards the sink.

“Guess I’ll do it. Princess can’t handle a few chunks of chicken in her precious mug.”

She smacked his arm lightly, scoffing.

“You’re the one who put chicken in it in the first place. You know that’s my favorite mug.”

He smirked, silently cleaning it out for her. When he was finished he turned, handing it off as he leaned against the counter.

“If my coffee is soup-flavored I’m going to have Cas smite you,” she mumbled, pouring it full.

She filled up another mug she’d pulled down in the meantime, sliding it to Dean.

“And yet, you still get me my coffee,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She hid a smile, shaking her head as she prepared hers.

“You know you love me,” he sang to her, heading towards the library.

She followed after, not even realizing what she was doing until she was halfway there. It was like they were attached at the hip.

They practically were over the following months, never not wanting to do everything together.

“Come on, Sam,” she whined. “You’re no fun.”

He smirked, attempting to leave the kitchen.

“Not all of us want to get plastered on a Tuesday night.”

“Speak for yourself” Dean said with a sparkle in his eye. He looked at Y/N. “You love getting screwed by me, right? Oh, sorry, with me.”

“Oh, yeah. My favorite activity, actually,” she said back with a smirk.

Sam sighed, rolling his eyes as he stood.

“I think I’m about done listening to you two flirt, anyways.”

“Aww,” she started, leaning closer to where he stood. “You gettin’ jealous, Sammy?”

“I’m getting grossed out,” he laughed. “Goodnight.”

The two at the table said a quick goodnight, turning back to their drinks and their jokes in an instant.

“Maybe we just need to sweat it out,” he jokes, brows dancing suggestively.

She laughed. “In your dreams, Winchester. We’ve gone almost six years without a slip-up, do you really think now’s a good time to break that record?”

He contemplated for a moment, fully believing it was a good time to break it. He couldn’t think of a better time with the exception of five-and-a-half years ago. But, he decided to actually use his brain.

“Guess you’re right.”

She smiled, pretending not to be thinking about the fact that she definitely thought she was all wrong. She really though that he should have known better than anyone that she believed records were made to be broken.

“I’m always right.”

“Now you’re dreaming,” he said with a chuckle, tossing back the rest of his drink.

He poured two shots, sliding one to her.

“Here’s to almost six years— what, like, five years and ten months? Something like that?”

She nodded. “July 7th.”

He stilled a moment, not thinking about the fact that of course she would remember the day they met.

“How many days is that?”

She hummed, playing into his little game as she pulled out her phone. She typed away until she got her answer:

“2119 days if I did the math right.”

“Nineteen or ninety?”

“Nineteen.”

“What do you say we have a special celebration if we get to twenty one ninety, then?”

She snorted. “What do you constitute as special?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he winked, tossing back his shot.

She mirrored his actions, then quickly typed away again.

“What do you know? 2190 is exactly the six year mark,” she smirked. “Alright. Deal.”

Weeks passed, and life was shockingly normal in that time. Well, normal for their standards, which still included all the things that go bump in the night. After a particularly long hunt, getting back to the bunker was a relief.

All three of them went to their respective rooms to get some rest, but, as had become a pattern, Dean went knocking on Y/N’s door. She opened with a tired smile, inviting him in.

They sat around, talking about whatever topics came to mind, listening to music playing in the background. When conversation fell quiet, an idea struck her like lightening.

“Come on, Dean. A little dancing wouldn’t kill ya,” she said, moving a little to the music.

He laughed, watching her from her bed. She held out her hands, and finally took them after a few seconds. She could be very convincing, he thought.

They jumped around the room in an un-choreographed, ridiculous, messy dance that left both of them giggling and out of breath. Her music wasn’t always his style, but he sure didn’t mind listening to her sing every word with a passion as if she’d written them herself.

“See? You love this,” she exclaimed as the upbeat song faded out.

“Only because you’re making me,” he smiled.

She laughed again, starting to turn when a slow song started going. He didn’t let her get far, however, pulling her back into his chest by the hand. He played it off all nonchalant at first, ignoring the smile on her face as a bit he always liked to play anytime he started being affectionate in an unconventional way.

“Really?” she asked.

She reached up, fingertips brushing against his jaw so that he’d look at her again. He smiled softly when she did, just watching her for a few seconds.

“You wanted to dance. We’re dancing,” he said, swaying along to the melody.

“Such a gentleman.”

He smirked, not letting up in the dance. She gave in, resting her head against his shoulder as the music played. He closed his eyes, resting his cheek against her and letting the smell of her perfume lull him in the dance more than the song could. Her gentle humming put a smile on his face that he was grateful she couldn’t see: he was certain he’d look like a lovesick puppy.

As the song faded out, she finally pulled away enough to see him again, both of them still moving as another faded in. She looked at him with a glimmer in her eyes. He took in a slow breath, watching her face for a few moments, their movements slowing. He wanted to kiss her more than anything. So, he took an action:

“I’m gonna grab a drink.”

He untethered himself from her, quickly making an exit to leave her alone and deeply confused.

She sat in the library a few days later, reading a book she found on werewolf mating habits.

“What do ya got, there?” Sam asked, walking into the room.

She glanced up, a brow raised. “You don’t want to know, trust me.”

Sam snorted. “Alright.”

“You need something?”

She closed the book, setting it down on the table.

“Yeah. Do you want to hang out? I just hooked up a new TV in my room.”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “When?”

“I’m making popcorn right now.”

She laughed, agreeing as she got up. She got comfortable in his room, back against the headboard of his bed. He walked in a minute later, handing over the bowl of popcorn as he settled in.

“Is Dean coming?” she asked.

“No. He went out for the night.”

“Ah,” she said softly after a beat.

Sam straightened up, looking at her.

“He didn’t invite you?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“He always does. Why not now?”

She sighed, settling into the cushions, still looking ahead.

“I think I freaked him out. We were in my room the other night, and I asked him to dance with me. He did, but then… I don’t know,” she shrugged. “After a couple songs he left fast and he’s definitely been pulling away from me since then.”

“Hey,” he called, grabbing her attention. “Anyone who doesn’t appreciate you isn’t worth your time. You know that, right?”

“Thanks, Sammy,” she smiled, looking down again. “I just keep getting in my own head.”

“When aren’t you?” he joked.

“You jerk,” she said, tossing a piece of popcorn at him. “I’m trying to be, like, open right now.”

“I know,” he drawled, leaning his head against hers.

She brushed a few pieces of his hair off her forehead.

“Maybe I just need to go out and have some fun myself,” she said after a moment.

He perked up.

“Dude, yeah!”

He stood abruptly, holding out his hands for her. She took them, standing slowly, and looking around the room for some stray confidence so that she wouldn’t back out.

“Tell you what,” Sam started, giving her the hope she wanted, “You go get ready, and we’ll head out together. I’ll be your wingman.”

She smiled. “That sounds great. I immediately wasn’t sure about heading off by myself.”

“I could tell,” he laughed.

She got ready in record time, putting on her favorite dress for good measure. They left the bunker, hitting a nearby bar that didn’t have an impala parked anywhere close.

“They’re just… giving me nothing,” she said with a sigh, slumping in the seat next to Sam at the bar.

“What do you mean? That last guy looked really into it.”

“He was. He was also into talking about his ex-girlfriend within the first few minutes of conversation,” she snorted. “I think I’m asking too much. I should just find someone and make out with ‘em.”

“You sure about that?”

She looked at Sam again, a smile breaking out.

“No. But if we do another shot, I might be.”

He sighed, obliging her only because he knew she’d do it without him anyways. They threw back the shots, and he wished her luck as she went off in search of someone who wanted nothing but a good time.

Well, kind of a good time. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to take some dude home.

She went onto the dance-floor, deciding she’d let someone come to her rather than prowling for herself, and got her wish pretty fast. A moderately attractive man caught her hand as she swayed around by herself, asking for a dance. She plastered on a smile as she agreed, letting him take the lead.

“What’s your name?” he asked over the music.

“Do you really want to know?” she teased.

He smirked. “Guess it’s more fun not to know, huh?”

She smiled again, pulling him down to her lips as they moved to the music. She closed her eyes, appreciating the ease at which she got what she wanted. The only problem is that she couldn’t help imagining it was Dean instead of Unnamed Bar-Goer.

Regardless, she justified that they were merely using each other, so who cares if she let her mind run a little wild?

She only backed away when he started getting a little handsy for her tastes. She thanked him for his time, walking away and back to Sam. He raised his brows when she came back.

“Hey, looks like you got it,” he said, watching her sit. “Also looks like you aren’t too happy.”

“Still giving me absolutely nothing,” she said with a sigh. “Not a damn thing.”

He chuckled. “Maybe this plan didn’t work out so well.”

“Still got to drink with my favorite giant,” she noted with a wink and nudge.

“Ha ha. Real flattering, thanks.”

He rolled his eyes, but let himself smirk when she wasn’t paying much attention. They sat talking at the bar for another hour or so before Sam decided to call it a night. She linked an arm around Sam’s as they walked out of the bar, definitely a little more drunk than she intended to get.

Dean walked into the bunker, spirits effectively dampened. His attempt to get his mind off of his I-almost-kissed-her moment didn’t work in the slightest, and now he was in a sour mood as a result.

His mood only worsened when he saw Sam and Y/N stumbling into the kitchen, the latter a drunken mess in an outfit he liked a little too much. He watched as Sam helped her into the room, practically propping her up against the counter.

“What the hell?” Dean asked as his brother got a glass from the cupboard.

“What?” Sam defended, filling up the cup with water.

“For one, why is she laughing at herself against the kitchen counter?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “We went out.”

He walked over to Y/N, handing her the glass. She sipped at the water, then set it down just as quickly.

“Done,” she cheered.”

“No, you’re not,” Sam said, picking up the water and giving it right back to her. “Come on, you’re going to be hungover tomorrow.”

She refused the drink, kicking off her shoes. Then, she turned to level her gaze at Dean as he sipped on a beer.

“And where did you go run off to?”

He raised his brows. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah,” she stated with finality.

“Out.”

“Get lucky?” she asked, more bitterness in her tone than she meant to let out.

“No.”

She rolled her eyes, then glanced at Sam again.

“Wanna go hang out and read? I found a book about how werewolves get it on,” she said, giggling as she ended the sentence.

“What?”

Dean spoke up again. “Since when do you go out and get drunk without a reason?”

She snapped back to him. “Since I was celebrating me. I’m done chasing after guys who don’t want— What was it, Sam? Like if they don’t appreciate me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked back, setting down his drink.

“Sammy, I wanna talk to Dean by myself,” she managed to say, hardly looking at him.

“I don’t know—”

“Sam,” she cut him off, watching him.

He put his hands up in defense, walking out of the room. She watched until he left, then looked at Dean again. He glanced sideways at her as she swayed slightly while she stood.

“You know, those six years are coming up real soon, De,” she said, staring from across the counter.

“Are they?” he asked, wondering where this was going.

“Mhm. One more week I think,” she hiccuped. “Sorry.”

He furrowed his brow. “You’re drunk.”

“I tried kissing someone today,” she said, words tumbling out fast like she couldn’t control them. “I hated it.”

He paused, unsure why she was saying this. His heart hurt more than he thought it would, hearing her admit that.

“Why?” was all he could manage.

“Why’d you go out without me?” she countered. “You never go out without me, not since we met.”

He sighed, eyes closing as he braced himself against the counter. He heard her as she got closer, eventually leaning her head against his arm.

“I’m glad you didn’t go home with anyone today.”

He swallowed, unable to look at her. “Yeah. I— I was gonna try, to be honest, but…”

“I’m gonna throw up,” she said, suddenly moving to the sink.

He followed after swiftly, helping her as best as he could. He pulled her hair back gently as she emptied her stomach into the kitchen sink.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he said softly, rubbing her back with the hand that wasn’t holding her hair. “Get it all out.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, sniffling.

“I’ve seen you worse,” he said with a smirk. “That upset about what I said?”

If she had been a touch more sober, she might have realized he was joking. Unfortunately, she took it completely literally.

“I didn’t mean to. I just thought about you and some—”

“Whoa, whoa. Hold on, I wasn’t—” he paused as she stood again, running the sink to clear it out. He turned it off again, impatient. “What are you talking about?”

“What?”

He watched her as she straightened herself out, pulling down the skirt of the dress she was in where it had ridden up.

“You threw up over me mentioning—”

“Dean.”

“Why?”

She sighed, leaning down to rest her head on the counter.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You kissed someone. I didn’t even get that far.”

“Why do you care?” she asked, standing again, and nearly falling over.

He caught her gently, but kept his hard tone as he responded to her.

“Why do you?”

“Because I just do, Dean.”

“You’re so freaking stubborn,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

“You’re one to talk. This is all your fault anyways.”

“Excuse me?” he asked, annoyance in his voice.

“It’s your fault,” she said, punctuating the phrase with a slap to his chest.

“Yeah? And how’s that?”

“You should’ve just kissed me instead of chickening out and running away like a little boy.”

He was stunned into silence, his anger dissipating and then quickly returning.

“If you hadn’t made me dance with you, I wouldn’t have been all in your face in the first place,” he shot back.

“You’re such a dick,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Six years of not chasing anyone but you, and for what? You’re acting like a bitch.”

“Well, jokes on you, sweetheart,” he exclaimed, opening up his arms. “Hasn’t even been six years.”

“Great! Let’s hope we never get there, then!”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not the one who ran off to get a hookup because I couldn’t handle my feelings.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, you just ran off to make out with someone because you couldn’t handle your feelings.”

“Why do you feel the need to make everything so difficult?”

“Because you’re the most difficult person I’ve ever met,” he said, voice raising to an octave you didn’t often hear. “How else am I supposed to deal with you?”

She groaned in frustration, pushing past him to leave. She stalked out of the kitchen, only making it so far as the hallway before she was getting pulled back.

“Stop it, Dean,” she all but yelled.

He rolled his eyes, pulling her closer and leaning down to kiss her. One hand found her face, a surprisingly gentle touch in comparison to how intense the kiss was. She felt like she couldn’t catch her breath, a smile on her face as he finally gave in. He pulled back a moment later, though not without an internal struggle.

“The douchebag at the bar kiss you like that?” he mumbled against her lips.

“Not exactly,” she sighed. “What took you so long?”

“You weren’t making moves either, loser,” he said with a laugh.

“You didn’t exactly make yourself out to be available, De.”

“And you did? You literally told me I wouldn’t get you in my wildest dreams a few weeks ago.”

She paused, a smile spreading to her face.

“Touché.”

“How about now?”

She quirked a brow. “You propositioning me, Winchester?”

“If I was, what would you say to that?”

“I’d say that I think there must be some technical malfunctions in the universe for me to get that lucky.”

He smirked, slowly backing her until she was pressed against the wall.

“Early celebration?”

“Only if we still celebrate when we hit twenty one ninety,” she said with a smile. “Gotta safeguard, here. Easier for me to make sure this doesn’t become a one-time thing.”

“You think I’d be able to stop after one time? It’s you,” he said, moving in closer. Her arms wound around his neck. “I’ve been holding out for six years.”

“Not quite.”

“Mm. Close enough.”

He leaned in to kiss her again, this time slow and soft. She kissed back, glad to finally know what his lips felt like against hers. He let his hands wander, holding to her hips and sliding down further.

“You look real pretty in this dress,” he mumbled between kisses.

“Was hoping you’d see it and like it,” she smiled, nipping at his lip. “Just don’t rip it if you decide to take it off me.”

He smiled against her as he leaned back in. He kissed her, deepening it immediately as one hand dragged down her leg. He slotted his own thigh between her legs, adding a little friction that had her gasping into his mouth. He started hiking up the skirt of the dress further. Slowly, purposely teasing her with it. Teasing himself just as much.

Then, heavy footsteps started coming down the hall. They separated quickly and ducked inside the kitchen, hoping Sam would walk past. Unfortunately, they were wrong.

Dean stood behind Y/N quickly, concealing a problem he didn’t exactly have time to fix.

“Hey,” Sam said softly, seemingly not noticing a thing. “I didn’t hear yelling coming down and needed a drink. You two all good?”

She nodded. “Great.”

“Awesome,” Dean said at the same time.

Sam nodded, giving a tight smile as he walked past.

“We were actually about to head to bed, so…” she said, looking at him as he stood at the fridge.

“Okay,” he nodded, nonchalant. “Night.”

“Night.”

Dean waved a quick goodbye, following after her quickly. They broke into his room, giggling like a couple of drunk toddlers.

“He didn’t hear yelling,” Dean said, closing in on her once the door was shut.

She reached for his belt, quickly undoing it as they got closer to the bed.

“He didn’t.”

He grabbed her by the waist, tossing her down on the mattress, slowly climbing on top of her.

“Wanna test and see if the walls in here are just as soundproof?”

She looked up at him as he finally tugged her dress up around her hips.

“I love a good experiment.”

She laid back in the early morning hours, not even bringing herself to be annoyed that she was being suffocated by a large man on top of her. Mostly because if Dean killed her that way, it certainly would suck, but what a way to go.

She sighed, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead as he rested against her chest. She ran her fingers through his hair until he eventually woke up with the sweetest sleepy smile point at her.

“Hey,” he said, adjusting himself to see her better.

“Hey,” she greeted, accepting a soft kiss. “I think we should’ve done that forever ago.”

“I don’t know. Might be like a wine situation. We let it sit so long that it got even better by the time we actually got some.”

“Very poetic.”

He smiled, a hand coming to rest on her side as he kissed her again. It was slow and lazy and altogether too sweet. She was almost embarrassed that she had to be there to witness how mushy that moment was, if not for the fact that she was on the receiving end of the mush. She pulled away from him first, leaving him to whine.

“You’re so dramatic,” she said in a whisper. “Whining?”

“You were doing plenty of that last night,” he smirked.

“Okay,” she rolled her eyes playfully. “Why don’t we get some breakfast. I’m starving.”

His hand started moving downward, inching up the shirt of his that she was wearing.

“I could eat.”

“Dean,” she warned.

He started scooting down the mattress slowly, not giving up.

“Come on. Kitchen.”

“Ooh, kinky.”

“Cut it out,” she laughed. “Kitchen for actual breakfast. I don’t waste time when it comes to breakfast.”

They made it to the kitchen for that breakfast successfully! Twenty minutes later, anyway.

“Hey,” Sam greeted, not looking up.

“Morning, Sammy,” Dean said, going straight towards the cabinets for cereal.

She realized suddenly that there may have been something she forgot in his room.

“Is that Dean’s shirt?” Sam asked.

She looked down, realizing that it was clothes she had forgotten. Sam paused, raising a hand.

“On second thought, I don’t want to know. Glad to know you’re at least not fighting. Just— Maybe some pants next time.”

She laughed, following Dean to the table as he set down two bowls of cereal. They all sat eating in a comfortable silence. Then a slightly less comfortable silence as Dean grabbed her thigh halfway through breakfast. Sam quickly excused himself after that, a knowing smile on his face as he left.

“So… We’re in the kitchen,” Dean said, leaning towards her. “I don’t think Sammy’s comin’ back anytime soon.”

After definitely not doing anything weird in the kitchen and then totally not feeling bad and scrubbing down the entire room for the day, things fell into a new rhythm. It was comfortable and surprisingly less of an adjustment than they were expecting. All of those years of relentless flirting must’ve made for an easy transition.

Dean cleared his throat a few days later, grabbing her attention as she lounged in the room he’d set aside for TV-watching (with the fun new addition of a couch).

“Yeah?” she asked, looking away from the screen to see him.

“Guess what?”

“Hm?”

“2190 days.”

She smiled. “Yeah? Is that today?”

He hummed, giving a nod.

“What were those special plans of yours?”

He raised a brow. “You really wanna know?”

She merely nodded. He paused the show they were watching.

“I, uh— I was gonna tell you how I felt if I didn’t chicken out.”

“You’re kidding,” she replied after a beat.

“I’m not,” he said with a chuckle.

“Man. Almost twenty two hundred days of a blackout before we finally lit it up, huh?”

He laughed. “That’s one way of putting it.”

She paused, turning to put her feet in his lap. He immediately, started rubbing her leg, enjoying the uninhibited ability to touch her.

“Wanna know something funny?”

He raised a brow in question.

“Years ago someone told me they knew we’d end up together.”

“Who? Bobby?”

She shook her head. “Garth.”

He rolled his eyes as she laughed, poking him in the arm a moment later.

“Got to give it to him, he’s always been perceptive,” she noted.

“Guess so,” he nodded, reluctant to admit it. “Freakin’ Garth.”

She watched him a moment, then retracted her legs. He looked at her, almost hurt with those big puppy-dog eyes.

“Oh, poor baby,” she cooed. “Don’t worry, I’m comin’ closer.”

She crawled over to him, settling in his lap. He ran his hands up her legs, a small smile returning to his lips.

“I can think of a few other ways we can celebrate today, you know?”

“Yeah?” he asked, leaning into the cushions.

“Five words: apple pie in the freezer.”

“Oh, baby, you know how to talk dirty to me,” he groaned, pulling her down for a kiss in a fit of laughter.

FULL MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

—————

dean winchester taglist:

@deanwithscissors @hyunjaebaby

#dean winchester one shot #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester spice #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic

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sannieluvrr · 3 months

Text

eternal sunshine - ateez's thoughts first time seeing you

here we go y'all! here is your teaser... chapter one coming monday!!!

warnings: suggestive content, not much tbh. slight spoilers in the best way possible.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

please be kind; this is my first fic!

master list / chapter 1

Hongjoong -

You walk into the kitchen area behind Mingi but run straight to Yunho. Hongjoong wonders briefly if they are sharing you or what is happening there. He cannot deny your beauty. You are as gorgeous as a sunset and sunrise. He has an idea for where you have been lately now that he sees Mingi holding onto you. Of course, you would find those two more acceptable, but Hongjoong thought he could do just as well as them.

“I have to get her into the studio to show her my music sometime. I think she would make a great background noise, like the opening laugh I do.” he thinks.

Seonghwa -

He has been on the phone since he walked into the building. He steps off the elevator and sees everyone eating. But, oh great, Mingi and Yunho have brought a girl. Why must they always do this, he thinks. As he sits down, all of those unhappy thoughts are gone. He stares into your eyes, but you are up at him through your eyelashes. He thinks he’s been struck by lightning. You look like something no one has ever touched, yet the look in your eyes proves that wrong.

“She looks like a doll waiting to be played with. I could show her that she must be dressed for a fancy meal one night.” he thinks.

Yunho -

He watched you take the courage to walk into the building from your car. He thought it was adorable. He followed behind as you went into the building to look for your room and saw you freeze at the amount of people there. It was shocking that people who wanted to return earlier were indeed there. But he was also one of those people, so who would he judge? It wasn’t until he saw you hesitate at the elevator that he decided to step in and take a chance.

“She reminds me of Mingi; I wonder if he would like her as much as I do. I want to take her on a date and treat her to a good meal.” he thinks.

Yeosang -

He watched you curiously as you walked into the kitchen. You were as pretty as Wooyoung said. Wooyoung had come into their shared room and started sharing how you looked pretty. Yeosang didn't believe him and told him as much, but now he had to eat his words as he swore he saw an angel walk into the room. He watched your interactions with Yunho and Mingi, as well as Wooyoung. He loved that you made sure Wooyoung followed through on his antics.

“I need to see her making Wooyoung eat his words more; maybe she can teach me. I also never thought I’d meet an angel, yet here is the day.” he thinks.

San -

He isn’t going to lie. He saw you walking down the hallway, not paying attention. You looked so adorable, and he wanted to talk to you. He tried to initiate a meet cute, like where she drops her books and he helps her pick them up, hands meet, and they fall in love. He didn't expect to fall over himself, but here he was. He just needed to know your name.

“She will be mine someday, and I cannot wait for our first kiss, date, and more.”

Mingi -

He didn’t know what to expect when Yunho called him downstairs. He certainly didn’t expect you, someone prettier than he has ever seen. Seeing how small you were compared to himself and Yunho was a shock to his system. He didn’t think he had a size kink, but here he was thinking of it. But, also, why were you so cute? He tilted his head, watching you as you worked up your courage to get out of the car. He needed to know you and be your friend, hopefully more.

“I need her in every way I possibly can.” he thinks.

Wooyoung -

He had to know who this cutie was getting onto the elevator. Why was she so precious? Why did she have this glow? Why was she so sunny, but her eyes held rain clouds? He watches as you click his floor number and knows he’s just met his new floormate. He is so happy that you are it. He will make all your favorite meals for you, and he can show off his kitchen skills. He doesn't know why you elicit such a response from him; it's just that you do.

“I am going to treat her to the best home-cooked meal, one she will always want, one that will have her return to my dinner table.” he thinks.

Jongho

You looked familiar, and he couldn’t name where he had seen you before. He watches you embrace San, immediately knowing who you are. He wants to know the woman who has San wrapped her finger. He needed to know the whole story between you two. But why did he feel jealous of his friend? He watches you two talk and wants desperately to be on the receiving end of your smile.

“Why did Sannie-hyung meet her first?” he thinks.

divider buy @cafekitsune

please like and reblog! also give me your thoughts?

#lulu: eternal sunshine #lulu:writes #ateez au #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #poly ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader

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sunflowersandforgetmenots · 2 months

Note

So glad to see you popping up on my dash!! I’ve got a req from the soulmates post!

#15 No harm done - soulmates are not able to hurt each other physically

This with Sevika? What if there’s a big fight and it’s down to the two of you and maybe you’re already pretty badly injured so she comes stalking over to finish the job and take you out but then she CANT 😫😭💕 OR!! Silco has you hostage and wants her to interrogate you? She’d wind up for a smack or something and just be stopped mid air. Either way, I’d love to see her face journey upon realizing who you are to her bc I imagine she’d be the type that’s convinced she’ll never find/doesn’t have a soulmate and now she has to accept that she is capable and deserving of love >:}

Also in the specific scenarios I can’t remember the number and I’m on mobile but the constant danger one would be so cute with Soma! Or really any of the ladies tbh they’re always into some shit lol I just always want more Soma in my life 💘

I'll write the Soma one later if I get the inspo in my brain for it! But here it is! Sevika for 15! It's a little angsty but also my first time writing for her!!!!

Summary: Telling Silco no is a bad idea, especially when he sends Sevika, his right hand, after you. Though... maybe it's not so bad if she can't actually hurt you?

Pairing: Sevika x Reader

Genre: Soulmate, Not Smut

Potential TW: Violence, some stalking, mentions of killing read

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The fear that struck your heart was not a new one, especially down here in Zaun. Fear was rampant in this place, no one was free from it. The lowest feared as prey, rabbits to be tracked and shot down by hunters. The highest weren’t exempt from it either, though the fear they felt was one born of greed. Of coins and power slipping through their fingers.

It wasn’t like you intended to get on Silco’s bad side. You weren’t someone of power to be feared by others, you weren’t even really a threat to him. But you told him no.

No, you wouldn’t serve his men. No, you wouldn’t distribute shimmer through Zaun. No, you wouldn’t back down. You liked Vander. You liked that he cared for his people without trying to beat others down. So what that he worked with Piltover? If it kept people safe, if it kept the upper side’s nose out of your business, so what. He was a father, a guardian. Silco was a monster.

And you had told his right hand that, right to her face. Her rather handsome face, once found in Vander’s men, now stinking up the door to your establishment. It twists up in anger, in rage.

“What?” She had said, a simple, low voiced threat that had part of you thrumming with a disgusting streak of desire.

“I said, no, Sevika. I’m not a pusher of some fucked up drug. I’m a fucking florist struggling to get through life down here. I can’t risk that.”

“Silco doesn’t take no for an answer, (Y/N).” She said. “Just because you’re ‘not the type’ doesn’t make you exempt from his requests.”

“He’s not a king. He’s not my boss.” You had responded, slamming the door shut in her face. She stayed there for a few moments, and you had feared for a few long moments that she was going to take that mechanical arm and punch through the door, taking your throat with it.

Instead, she quietly left, taking her men laughing with her.

You had thought that that was that. Silco and his men left you alone for a time, and instead, your flowers flourished. It was frustrating. There was an improvement with the shimmer, a double edged sword that you were sure would come crashing down on Zaun any moment.

Then, Sevika started appearing standing on the other side of the street of your shop. Staring, waiting. Never making a move, never moving closer. It scared you, enough to make you change your routine, but like clockwork, she would adjust within a day. A predator, waiting for her chance to clamp her teeth around the throat of her prey.

So you decided to run. Pack your things and run. You could beg on the streets of Piltover. Hell, maybe you could even leave. Crossing Silco was one thing, but Sevika being the one to take you out? She was going to make it hurt. She was going to make sure that you weren’t found ever again. And you can’t risk it.

Which is how you found yourself in this situation, sitting in some abandoned closet in some abandoned home, clutching a knife close to your chest as you hear Sevika rip through your belongings.

You weren’t going to make it out of this alive, that knowledge settling deep in your bones. But you can give it a fighting chance, maybe she might make it quick, knowing you weren’t going to be a coward and die weakly. That’s the one thing you can do in Zaun: die strong.

Even so, a part of you mourned. You never figured out who they were, your soulmate, the one you were destined to love, waiting these long years in the darkness of Piltover. Waited for so long, only to be snuffed out by a mere puppet of a monsterous man who ruled your home. Your fingers tighten around the hilt of the knife as your killer approaches the closet.

“Come out, (Y/N).” She says, voice low in that threatening way that made your stomach turn. “You know that you can’t fight me. Not with whatever little weapon you have. Silco just wants to talk.”

“We both know that the talk is going to end up with me dead.” You say. You wish that you could respond with the confidence you had when you got yourself into this mess, all pride and strength. Instead, you just put your foot on the door, offering resistance for whenever she decided to rip it off the hinges.

“Maybe if you stopped trying both of our patiences,” Sevika growls, punching the door for a threatening emphasis. “you wouldn’t be worried about that. You can either die now, or die if he gives the order.”

“I’m not gonna wait for that, and you know it.”

She sighs, a deep, tired sigh. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And the door comes right off its hinges, though your booted foot did nothing to give you time. The wood slings across to the other side of the room, and you start slashing wildly, missing each time before she knocks the dinky knife out of your hand with one flick. A scream escapes your lips, hoping beyond hope someone would take pity on your in your last moments, even if that someone was Sevika. You’re lifted up by your shirt collar and dragged out of the closet, kicking and sobbing for someone to save you.

Your feet dangle, and without thinking, you wrap your hands around her organic wrist for some kind of subconsious reassurance. The feeling of her skin against your fingers shocks you. She’s human, just like you. but she’s fixing to kill you. She’s killed before. She’s watched the life drain out of so many people and you were no exception.

Your touch does nothing to her, seemingly. No flinch, no hesitation. Instead, she pulls back her mechanical fist and pulls it back. You close your eyes, tears dripping down your cheeks as you brace for the end.

But the end doesn’t come. And it doesn’t come for a few minutes actually. So you crack open an eye, looking at her with relief. She must have changed her mind. The look on Sevika’s face however, was one of horror. Her fist was still raised, and you see the muscle of her shoulder straining. Then, you’re gently lowered to the ground, her hand still loosely curled into the fabric of your shirt.

“Ch… Change of mind?” You ask, still terrified out of your wits end.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what? Kill me?”

“Hurt you.” She says. The words seem to slip out of her mouth, like she wanted to stop them before they were spoken. “I can’t hurt you, (Y/N).”

It takes a moment. At first, you think she’s simply taking pity on you, or maybe she respects you too much after your attempts to prevent your own death. Then it sinks in. Sevika tried to hurt you, but physically, she couldn’t. Which meant…

“I’m your soulmate. We’re… We’re soulmates.”

Speaking it out loud only seems to upset her further. She shifts, turning her face away and letting her right hand drop from your person. Though she doesn’t move, she doesn’t speak. She just looks… uncomfortable.

As you stand there, basking in the strange feeling that your soulmate just tried to kill you, that your soulmate was Sevika, you come to realize something about Sevika. You thought her a killer, someone ready to switch sides at any given moment but… now, as she stands there awkward as a teenager, you remember that she might have had expectations about this too. Hopes about soulmates, dreams about them. Was she disappointed? Was she ashamed?

“What are you going to do?” Is all you’re able to ask, all you can manage to get out.

She regards you out of the corner of her eye before she runs a hand over her face. “... Let you go. But you need to get out of Zaun. Never come back here.” She says.

“What? But you’re my… you want me to leave after we just found out???”

“Obviously!” She snaps. “Silco wants you dead, I can’t afford to fail, but…” She moves as though she’s going to pace, but then stops, like she can’t bring herself to move from you. There’s a pause before she rests a hand on your shoulder. “I never thought I would have one… would have you. You’re a weakness, that insecurity was a weakness. That desire was. It still is. So you’re going to leave Zaun, hell, maybe the whole city. I can’t have you haunting my steps.”

“So I’m a bother to you??” You ask, incredulous at the fact that she’s trying to get you to leave. Angry at the fact that you finally have what you’ve always wanted and now she’s pushing you away despite the fact that maybe now she can protect you.

“You’re a weakness. And a pain in my ass.” Sevika says. “I’m not… I’m not doing this. Just leave.”

And before you can say anything, she pulls you into a kiss, hard, fast, and passionate. Better than any you’ve had before. And you mourn this bittersweet moment, because you know deep down that she’s right.

Her loyalty is to Zaun, and if anything comes before that…

She’d have helped kill Vander for nothing, because she would do the same things he did to make sure you were safe.

#sevika x reader #sevika #my writing #arcane x reader #soulmate trope

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sherifftillman · 1 year

Text

Firsts

Pairing: Tom Grant x f!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, smut

Tags: Make Up (film), 18+ (minors DNI), slow burn, underage alcohol content, virgin! tom and virgin!reader, protected sex (if tom can wrap it, so can you), just the fluffiest smut i've ever written tbh, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v,

Summary: A boy you met in the playground has a far greater effect on your life than you could have imagined.

Word count: 12k

A/N: Ugh, hopefully this signifies the end of my writer's block. Thanks for hanging in there, gang! Enjoy my first Tom fic <3

Age 4

You sit on the roundabout cross-legged, indignantly pressing your hands into your cheeks. You look over at some of the other kids, playing with their friends. You wish you could have friends here too. Even though your parents took you here on holiday, and there’s loads of stuff at the holiday park specifically catered to kids your age, the most they’ll do is bring you to the park for half an hour or so before dragging you along to all the stupid, boring things that they want to do.

A boy with curly hair that sticks out in all directions and brown eyes that glisten when the midday sun hits them saunters up to you. “Hiya. Are you waiting for anyone else?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “No, it’s fine. You and your friends can have it.”

“Oh, I’m here by meself, too! Well not by meself, me mam’s here too, but I thought we could take it in turns!” He outstretches his hand, “I’m Thomas!”

You snort out a laugh. “Like the tank engine?”

“Shut up,” he frowns, making you giggle again.

“My dad’s friend’s name is Freder-eder-ded- Fredrid- Frederick, but we just call him Fred ’cause it’s easier. Maybe I can call you… Tom.”

His eyes light up. He has the most beautiful face you’ve ever seen. “I’d like that. Tom. Yeah. Thanks.”

“Your voice is weird,” you point out.

“Shut up!” he repeats. “Yours is the weird one.”

"Well, I've never heard one like yours before so that makes it weird. Now c’mon, you can spin me first,” you tell him, and with that, he wraps his hands around the metal pole of the roundabout and runs as fast as his tiny legs will take him.

Age 13

Another year, another caravan holiday. The older you get, the less tolerance you have for your parents’ boring excursions. But you absolutely love the downtime in between where you’re just at the caravan park. Because it means you get to hang out with your best friend.

As sad as you are to see your tradition go, of the pair of you picking out postcards for each other to spend all your holiday pocket money on to send to each other throughout the year, you are very excited to show him your birthday present since the last time you saw him.

“Hiya,” comes a familiar call from behind you as you sit at the roundabout that you first met Tom on. You run to him, with his arms outstretched wide, flinging your own around him as soon as you can reach him. His face buries into your cheek as you hug each other, his laughter filling your ears. “Got summat to show ya,” he says as you’re still embraced before pulling away.

“Oh, I have something to show you, too!” you grin, both of you fumbling through your pockets before you both brandish your mobile phones to each other.

With excited gasps, you recite your own numbers that you've memorised to each other, and immediately text each other, despite being feet away. You read your messages on each others’ screens as though it’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever come across.

The two of you walk down to the beach together, babbling on about school life and home life and everything in between life. You notice that Tom goes quiet after a little while, which isn’t like him. You sit down on a log you’d both claimed a few years ago, and Tom picks up a branch from the ground near it and starts drawing absent-mindedly in the sand. You ask with a frown, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah!” he lies, but you glare at him.

“Liar,” you shove him, and he laughs softly. “You think I can’t tell by now? What’s really wrong?”

He sighs, “Well… You know my best mate, Jake?” You nod. “Well, he got a - got a girlfriend last year.”

“You make that sound like that’s the worst thing in the world,” you laugh.

“Obviously it’s not,” he pulls a face at you. “But, like… I’m gonna have to… Kiss a girl at some point soon, aren’t I? It’s all Jake asks of me these days.”

You giggle, “What, is someone still afraid of getting girl germs?”

“No!” Tom elbows you in the side. “I’m...Worried I’ll be shit at it.”

You roll your eyes, “Nobody expects you to be good at it right off the bat!” Tom keeps looking at you sadly and you sigh. “What, you want to practise or something?”

Tom's eyes widen, then he nods slowly. “If that’s okay with you...”

You shrug, “I haven’t had any experience either, so...” you trail off. "I'll probably be shit, too."

“R-right, w-well,” Tom stammers, “I think I- I come over like this, a-and...” he leans towards you, resting a hand on your hip. He leans in close to you, tilting his head both ways. You try and match his movements, but at the last minute his nose crashes into yours and you both laugh nervously.

You try to play it cool, try to breathe deeply in case he can hear your heart thumping too. You’re so close to him right now you can see the little dip left by the dimple that forms when he smiles. The specks in his eyes that glow in the sun. Tom has been the love of your life - but you can’t say that, you’re only 13, you’ve barely lived.

You hold his jaw in place and move to him. His lips are smooth, warm, full, simply invigorating. He doesn’t respond at first, and you feel like kissing just his top lip probably isn't right, but after a few pecks from you he starts to kiss back. Feeling him push out to you makes you crave even more. He carries on with even more fervour until he suddenly stops, pulling back and whipping his hand back into his lap. He mumbles a “thanks” and goes back to poking the sand with his stick.

Your chest feels as though it’s made of lead. You excuse yourself and run all the way back to your caravan, heading straight to your bed and sobbing into your pillow. Of course he hated kissing you.

You do everything you can to avoid Tom for a while. You immerse yourself in everything your family wants to do, constantly asking what they’ve got planned to go out and do, emphasis on the go out bit. You switch your phone off so as not to be distracted by his texts. You rarely leave the caravan.

It’s only on the second-to-last day that your parents basically kick you out of the caravan for the day. Despite them giving you plenty of money to play in the arcade with, you find yourself sitting on one of the swings in the playpark, rocking yourself back and forth absentmindedly.

You don’t notice Tom approaching you, you’re too immersed in trying to think of anything else but him. He clears his throat to get your attention. You notice he’s breathless and red in the face, like he’s been sprinting. With a heavy heart, you nod at him in acknowledgement. “Hiya,” he starts softly.

“Hey.” you reply bluntly. You don’t mean to be so cold to him, you don’t want to be - but you have to be.

“You’ve been mad distant lately, are you all right?” Tom asks, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“Nope, I’m half left, see,” you wave your left hand in the air half-heartedly and Tom chuckles.

“That’s not what I meant, idiot.” He chews on his lip before continuing, “Is it because of how I kissed?” You think about whether or not to answer honestly when he continues sadly, “Was I really that bad at it?”

You sigh and shake your head. “No, you were fine. I...I’ve been busy with holiday stuff! Parents, you know how it is.” You're lying through your teeth, but what did you expect? For Tom to also fall for you as soon as your lips connected? Of course not.

“Right,” Tom breathes out a sigh of relief before continuing, “but you normally don’t go along with that, if you can help it… Does that mean you don’t want to hang out with me any more?” His voice falters back to sadness.

“Well, no,” you blurt out before you can think of something else. Damn. You didn’t want to outright say no because you can’t keep making yourself feel like this. But you look at his smile, at the dimples that you could place on him from memory, at his eyes lit up like a Christmas display, at how his freckles dance up his cheeks, and all of that flies out the window.

“Good! Because - Well, it’s a bit stupid, I know, but they’re doing a thing in the entertainment hall tonight, since it’s most kids’ last day here before school starts, a-and I...I was wondering if...” he starts wringing his hands together.

“You’re worried you’ll look like Billy No-Mates if you turn up without a date and you don’t know any other girls here well enough,” you state simply.

“There’s… More to it than that,” Tom scrunches his face up.

Of course, what you’re unaware of is that Tom is terrified he’s lost you for good. That him being so nervous about being too eager to kiss you that he had to stop himself has been too obvious and ruined your first kiss and that he’s lost the girl he loves. But he won’t admit that. He’ll let you believe whatever you want as long as he gets to spend time with you again. As long as he gets to watch the sparkle in your eyes dance when you laugh, and the little twitch of the nose you do right before you start to think deeply about something, that’s all he wants back.

You, blissfully unaware of this, shrug in defeat, “Sure. It’ll be nice to catch up over the last few days, I guess.”

Tom grins, “Alright, sound! I mean, I doubt we’ll really be able to catch up at the dance, but...We could always grab dinner together at the restaurant bit beforehand, just me an’ you?”

“Sounds good,” you press your lips together and nod. Tom grins and waves goodbye as he leaves the park, leaving you to curse yourself. You’re just letting him walk all over you - to you, Tom is now your first friend, first kiss, first dinner date, first dance date; you feel like to Tom you’re just a test dummy.

Age 16

You knew he had a girlfriend, now. He’d phoned you about Ruth in the early days of knowing her, and despite everything, you’d talked him into asking her out. He deserves that happiness, even if he can't get it with you.

She had seemed really interested in getting to know you, too, at first. Tom was always telling you that she’d been asking questions constantly about you, and that he couldn’t wait for the two of you to meet. “My girls,” he’d always say. Your heart would soar 50 feet into the air just to plummet a hundred at those words.

Phone calls became less frequent as months went on. After you’d sent over your Christmas card and present to him, as per your tradition, you only got back a card that had your name written at the top, and “- Tom” at the bottom. Not the “Love,” that would always come before it. Not the little kiss he’d always put underneath his name. That really stung.

What was once a constant stream of texts from wishing each other good morning to goodnight every day for the last 3 years becomes occasional, which becomes non-existent. He doesn’t even text you on your birthday.

You beg and you plead with your parents to not go on the annual Cornwall holiday. Anywhere but. You’re 16 now, that’s plenty old enough to stay at home on your own. You’d be more than happy to have a neighbour check in on you regularly and spontaneously. Or a family member. Even your worst enemy, just - not there. Not facing him. And besides, you’re almost certain he won’t be alone with his parents this year.

And you’re right. She’s hanging off of his arm all the while the other regular teens crowd around them. They’re all just as much your friends as they are his. But this year you don’t feel welcome around them.

And it’s not just jealousy on your part. You’d even tried to be friendly. You’d practically skipped up to the both of them on your first day, after a lot of mental preparation, to a judgemental stare from Ruth that started from the moment she laid eyes on you, to the moment you left her field of vision. It burned especially strongly when Tom hugged you in greeting, even if you could have gotten a more meaningful exchange with a Lego figurine, with a just as emotionless, "Hiya."

It hurts when you end up seeing Ruth and Tom together and she’s the one who notices and suddenly drapes herself over him. It hurts more when it’s him that sees you first and he takes her by the hand and simply runs off with her.

It hurts the most when you catch them kissing on your log. Once again, 3 years later, you’re running from that beach to your caravan and you’re curling up in your bed crying your eyes out. Except, this year’s trip won’t end in a dinner where he feeds you his chips just because you didn’t ask for any with your meal and he wants to make sure you don’t nick all of his. It won’t end with a DJ asking everyone - and he means everyone - to make their way to the only slow-dance of the night, and Tom goofily dancing in ultra slow motion as he eventually encourages you to do the same. It’ll end in him doing that with her, while you sit and eat whatever your parents can make out of whatever’s left in the fridge and fight back the tears you haven’t yet cried while in the privacy of your own room.

It makes sense, after all. Tom being your first love, he was always destined to be your first heartbreak, too.

Age 17

You hear a moan fall into your mouth, you feel a hand grip on your arm. Another rests on your thigh. Your hand moves up to his hair, burying deep into his soft, brown curls. Except it doesn’t. It barely scrapes through the cropped, straight hair of your boyfriend.

You’d so loved that the guy on the other side of the classroom in your college class had noticed you, had asked you out. Your parents love him, your friends back home love him. And, as it had turned out, he’d even been holidaying at the same caravan park you always do. It’s just that while your family normally goes at the end of the summer break, his goes at the start. Your family let you go with his this year instead, which you’re thrilled about. Hopefully you can create memories with your boyfriend in Cornwall with absolutely no trace of Tom, who’s surely only going to be there in the last week, like always.

You don’t believe it when you see him and her in the distance, outside the window. You think you must be making it up. There’s no way. It’s only fleeting, so you shake it off and try to focus on being in the moment with your boyfriend. He takes you by the hand, leads you to your bedroom for the next week, sits you both on the bed and starts kissing you intensely. That’s when you start imagining him as Tom, again. This is exactly the opposite of what you wanted to happen.

Later on, when you’re on your way to the arcade, you spot an old friend from past trips. She excitedly greets you, states her surprise over seeing you so early in the summer, and tells you that she works here now. She tells you of a staff party that’s happening in one of the luxury chalets. It’s apparently a tradition, first weekend of every summer holiday period, the staff club together and buy it out for a weekend. She invites you both along, and you gleefully accept.

You speculate all week about what your first house party is going to be like. What being drunk for the first time is going to be like. Your boyfriend laughs at you every time. "You're hilarious. I can't wait to see how sloppy you get."

That makes you nervous. How much alcohol does it take to get you wasted? You were hoping to make sure you stayed of enough sound mind to remember it all. Would you really inevitably get "sloppy" and embarrass yourself?

When the party's finally in full swing, you're insistent on sticking to cans of soda. Your boyfriend frowns at you, demands to know why you're suddenly so shy over drinking after it being all you could talk about. You tell him you just need to build up to it, that it's a first time which makes it a big deal. He rolls his eyes and mutters something about first times and walks away.

You frown at that. There's only two main things about you and firsts. The fact that you and Tom may never share any more, which you've never discussed with your boyfriend; and that the first time the two of you had tried going beyond kissing, he'd called you…

No, you're not thinking about that. He said he's sure it's something you'll get over, and once you are, he'll be ready for you. You just need to try and rein it in for yourself. Did he resent you because you hadn't managed to keep it under control yet?

Your brain is swimming when you hear the one voice you'd simultaneously been waiting for and dreading. "Hiya!"

Taking a deep breath in and putting on a brave face, you feign surprise. “Oh my god, Tom! Hi! What are you doing here?!”

“Well, Ruth had made friends with one of the girls that works here, Jade, and she invited us - well, Ruth, but, y’know, we’re sort of a package deal,” he laughs awkwardly. “Um, so, what are you doing here?”

“Hayley works here now, an’ all! Remember her?”

Tom laughs under his breath, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t surprise me in the slightest. ’Member how she was always the first to volunteer to get on stage?” You both laugh loudly before faltering into a weird silence. “So, found your tipple of choice, yet?” he asks, gesturing to the plastic cup in your hand.

“Oh!” You shake your head. “Not yet. I wouldn’t even know which one to start with. I’ve, uh, I’ve never really drank before.”

Tom chuckles, “Hey, me neither! Was gonna play it safe and go for a beer. Fancy indulging in my first one with me?”

“We’ve shared enough by now, haven’t we?” you ask with a small smile.

“So,” he starts as you both head into the kitchen. “You never really explained why you’re here this early.”

“Didn’t I? I’m here with my boyfriend and his family,” you explain.

Tom’s face falls, though you’re too busy navigating your way past everyone at the party to notice. “O-oh… Boyfriend? Is he… Y’know, good to you, an’ that?” He asks, his energy suddenly depleted.

“Yeah! Yeah, he’s great. Dunno where he is at the moment, but I’ll have to introduce you both while we’re here,” you nod.

“Definitely! I’ll let Ruth know you’re here, she can say hi to you an’ all.” Tom thankfully doesn’t notice your eyes rolling as he studies the drinks now in front of you both. Tom looks over his shoulder at you and jerks his head at the kitchen counter. “Pick our poison, then.”

You shrug, “I dunno, you said beer? Let’s go with that.”

Tom nods, grabbing a couple of bottles and an opener, clicking the lids off and handing one to you. “To us, eh? Finally growing up.”

WIth a defeated smile, you clink your bottle against his and you both take your first sips. Tom immediately pulls a face of disgust, which then turns to intrigue. He looks over at you and laughs as you stand there, looking as though you’ve squeezed an entire lemon out onto your tongue. “Maybe we’ll get you something sweeter. ’Ere, how about one of these flavoured vodkas? Stick some of that in with your Coke.”

You and Tom stay and chat for the best part of an hour, catching up on everything. It’s the happiest you’ve felt in a long while. Certainly this whole week. But then he talks about finding Ruth and for the first time all night, you think about where your boyfriend could be.

You take a lap of the cabin. And another. And another. Each time more and more anxious. Calling his name out is getting you nowhere.

And then you see a flash of him getting pulled into another room. You don’t see the other person. Their arm is especially slender, their painted nails gripping his shirt as he grins down at them. You stare at the door as it closes, in pure shock and horror.

Your ears ring until you eventually hear a faint, but familiar, “Hiya, what’s going on with you? You’ve been up and down like a bleedin’ yoyo!” Tom notices your lack of response and frowns. “What?” As you still don’t answer, he follows your line of vision and points, “In that door?” Your lip quivers and his face steels. “Right.”

The next few seconds happen in slow motion and high speed all at once. Tom swinging the door open. His, “You better not be who I fucking think you are, mate.” Him getting pinned against the wall by your (as of right now) ex. Tom spitting in his eye to get dropped. Your boyfri- ex-boyfriend’s, “Is she as fucking disgusting with you as she is with me?” as Tom tries to walk away. Tom’s face absolutely seething as he turns back around, strides up to your ex and punches him square in the face.

Finally, you find it in you to scream at Tom to stop, and then turn to your ex. “The actual fuck is wrong with you?! Acting a victim just because I was catching up with a friend while you were chatting girls up in the same fucking house?!”

“You know what? Fuck this. Make your own way home. Bitch,” your ex snarls as he pushes past you to the front door as he storms out of it.

You hear a, “What the fuck happened to you?!” and see Ruth approach with her new friend, a girl with just-above-shoulder-length hair. Ruth’s looking at Tom’s red knuckles in horror.

“I’m fine, babe, honest. It were just… That dickhead was feeling up some other bird while…” He gestures weakly at you.

Ruth presses her lips together and nods, “Right. So you’ll punch a guy for her, yeah?”

He groans, lolling his head back. “C’mon, Ruth, don’t be like that now, please. You know I’d do the same if it were you. Or even Jake, or any one of my friends, alright? Don’t mean nothin’.”

“Yeah, well. Think I’m gonna sleep over at Jade’s tonight, anyway. Wanna see how the staff live,” she explains, gesturing to her friend.

Tom looks a little dejected, but he shrugs it off. “Alright, it’s your holiday, too. Have fun. I’ll text you in the morning, yeah?” She nods, and he goes up to kiss her. You look away, wincing. She scowls at you as she walks past you to leave.

Someone else in the crowd snorts, “Don’t you think that’s a bit fucking dodgy?”

“What is?” Tom asks, turning to face them.

“Accusing you of cheating on her with a ‘friend’ and then conveniently sleeping over with a friend of her own?” They fold their arms to raise their eyebrows in suspicion at Tom.

He merely shrugs, carefree. “Exactly. It’s perfectly normal to just have friends, alright?” He sounds a little exasperated at that, holding his hands up. “It’d only be dodge if I were also up to no good. But I’m not, because I know that it’s okay to just hang out with a friend every now an’ then.” He looks at you and shrugs. “Listen, don’t worry about tonight. Mum and Dad had us in a twin room, anyway, I can pull the beds back apart again if you need a place to sleep. Till then, we can stay here, long as you like. Alright?”

You nod gratefully, pushing out a whispered, “Thank you.”

You hug him tightly and he gives you just as much back, rocking you gently from side to side before rubbing up and down your back and offering, “So, how’s about we go back and demolish all the vodka and coke in that kitchen, yeah?”

You awaken in a single bed, next to another single bed that has a stirring Tom in it. He looks over at you, rubbing his eyes awake, “Hiya.”

You groan, “Of all the first encounters we’ve had, I’m begging you to have looked into how to deal with our first hangovers.”

He snorts with laughter. “‘’Fraid not. Looks like we’re suffering together.”

“Fantastic,” you whine as you throw yourself to lay on your other side.

Age 18

Even now that you’re legally an adult, that caravan park in Cornwall never evades you. You’d wanted to go on one of those big pre-university holidays to Spain or Greece like most 18 year olds do, but too many plans kept falling through and things kept going wrong and so, in order to catch some kind of break, you end up giving into your friend Hayley’s offer to stay with her for the holiday period. The friend that works there.

The staff living quarters are identical to the rest of the caravan park, with the exception of a common area with a bonfire. As you’re carrying your suitcase past it, you spot her. Again. Of course. You await the disgusted glare she’s about to give you, but she doesn’t seem to acknowledge your existence in the slightest. Hayley catches up with you, notices, and nudges you, “You know, she’s actually a lot more chilled out now that she’s with Jade instead.”

You double-take so fast you almost give yourself whiplash. “She’s wi- You mean, with?” Your friend nods. “Aww. Well, good for her, I guess.”

Once you’re in the caravan, you take out your phone and tap through to yours and Tom’s text history. You read back the last text you’d had from him, almost a year ago:

Hiya. Hope you’re alright, and you got on the train okay. Listen, I know I said all that guff about us just being friends, and I know that’s what both of us have always been, but Ruth’s proper upset about it. It was really good to see you again, but I don’t think we should talk while this is still fresh. Safe travels.

You wonder why he never thought to text you even after they’d broken up. Did he even want to hear from you again? You bite the bullet and text anyway:

Hey, stranger! Heard about you and Ruth. Sorry to hear it. Hope you’re doing well.

Hiya, yourself! Yeah, thanks, I’m holding up. Better for us all, really. How’d you hear, if you don’t mind me asking? x

Saw her at the caravan site and she didn’t give me evils, lol.

YOU’RE HERE?! :D x

Yeah!

Wait, when you say *here*...

What caravan are you staying in? x

One of the staff ones, 159. Why?

He doesn’t text back as quickly after that, so you instead start fixing up some lunch for you and your friend. She goes down to the shop to pick up something for the two of you to drink, and while you have the caravan to yourself, there’s a hurried knocking at the door. You assume Hayley told her bosses that she’s got someone living with her over the summer - she does have one of the ‘luxury’ two-bed caravans, after all - so there should be no problem with you answering it.

You don’t even get a good look at who it is before you’re being swept up in their arms and backed into the caravan, but you recognise that scent, that grip, that swooping feeling in your stomach. That laughter in your ear, followed by the greatest word in the English language, “Hiya.”

“Oh my god! What are the chances that you - oh my god!” You yell excitedly as you see him in his uniform. He twirls himself from side to side with a proud smile to show it off. “You got a job here, too?!”

He grins, “Yeah!” but it falters. “’Course, it would’ve helped if I’d’ve known my ex was dumping me for someone else who works here before I accepted but,” he shrugs, “swings and roundabouts. Speaking of! They’ve got rid of our park.”

You gasp sorrowfully. “What? No!”

“I know! They’re redoing the whole thing,” he pouts.

“I mean, to be fair, it was getting close to becoming an actual death trap,” you point out. “Last year, I don’t think the roundabout even actually spun anymore!” You both laugh as Hayley returns.

“Oh! Alright, Tom! See you’ve found my fugitive for the next six weeks.”

“Sure have! Can I nick her for a bit, though? Got some catching up to do,” he looks at her hopefully, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

She looks between the two of you before grinning, “Yeah, why not? I can make my own lunch, away with you both!”

“Have you not had lunch yet, then?” Tom frowns as you both walk down the steps of the caravan.

“Mate, I literally just got here,” you gesture to your car as Tom falls into a pile of giggles.

“Alright, mate,” he nudges you with his elbow as he mocks you. “How’s about we take full advantage of my new staff discount,” he waggles an ID card between his fingers, “and go get you your own chips for once?”

“You remembered!” You cackle. “And they’re way tastier when they’re not mine.”

All through your meal, as you catch up, there's a very large elephant in the room that Tom isn't addressing. After a post-lunch walk ends up taking you to your log, the bittersweet punch that hits your chest finally has you speak up as Tom sits on the log, sprawling his legs out in front of him: "Why didn't you ever text?" Tom presses his lips together as he takes a deep breath in and out. "I know… I know you said that Ruth didn't like you talking to me, and while that was shit, I kinda get it. But… Why didn't you…?"

"Reach out after we broke up?" Tom asks, bending his knees to rest his elbows on as he rubs his face with his palms. "I don't fucking know, is my honest answer. I thought about it, if that helps. Probably fucking doesn't," he mutters. "I just… Assumed you'd hate me for letting a girl come between us."

"Well… A little," you admit, finally sitting down next to him. "Hate you more for assuming I'd hate you, though." Tom shoves your shoulder as he laughs softly, and you chuckle quietly, too.

"Let me make it up to you?" he asks. "Dinner at my caravan later?"

You groan, "Please tell me you've learned to do more than put tinned spaghetti on a slice of uncooked bread."

"As long as you eat it like a sandwich, ain't nothing wrong with it," he beams. "But, just for you, I'll make it proper special, yeah?"

"Ooh, like a date? Do I have to dress up?" You tease, and he laughs loudly.

"I distinctly remember you wearing jeans on our first date, so you've set the bar pretty low there."

You look at him in mock offence, "Excuse you! Those were my smart jeans that had the sequin dolphins on them! I felt like a little celebrity in those," you reminisce.

"You can wear what you like, just… Maybe no bedazzled fish this time, eh?" He glances over at you side-eyeing him and interrupts you before you can start correcting him, "I know, I know, dolphins are mammals, actually." He collapses into a fit of giggles, losing the accent he's using to mock yours as he squawks at you trying to push him off the log entirely.

"Can't believe you remember that, and all," you smile fondly.

"Of course. Still got that toy one I bough-" Tom interrupts himself, but you silently encourage him. "I, uh, we had a school trip to the aquarium. An' they had a - a little gift shop there, they had these toy dolphins. I bought one to give you years ago, but I just… Never got round to it."

“Ruth stopped you?” you guess, and he pulls a face in response. You copy him, “You’ll just have to give it to me when you come visit me in Nottingham, won’t you?”

He sits bolt upright. “You what?!”

You giggle, “I got into Nottingham. For uni, I mean.”

“Shit, that’s huge! Grats!” he pins your arms to your side in a quick squeeze. "An' there's a bus that goes straight there from Derby, so there'll be no escaping me!"

Your eyebrows knit together, "You not staying here year-round?"

He shakes his head. "I was gonna, when I first applied for it, but then… Well, things have changed now, in't they?"

You giggle, "I'll finally get to see your house for real!"

Tom gasps excitedly, "Shit, yeah, and Mum'll be dead happy to see you again!" He slaps his knees and stands up, "Right, well. This ain't getting me back to work, is it? Gotta make sure I clock off nice an’ early." He offers his hand out to you. "Wanna get up too, or are you staying here?"

You take his hand and let him pull you up to standing. "Nah, I better get back to Hayley at some point. Text me whenever you want me ’round, yeah?" You ask, trying not to grin stupidly at the fact Tom doesn't let go of your hand right away.

"Will do. In a bit, yeah?" he asks with a smile, holding your hand out to him for just long enough for you to speculate whether he was about to kiss it before letting it go, instead.

As you head straight back up the path next to the log, he goes across the beach for a minute, making his way to the other side of the park where he needs to be instead. You return to caravan 159 to see Hayley sprawled across the sofa, watching the tiny TV. She jumps up excitedly when she sees you. “So, how’d it go?” You explain that you have dinner planned with him tonight, but that you’re not certain what level of date to consider it. Hayley helps you go through the clothes you’d packed, but they were all either too casual or too going-out-y, outfits you’d planned for nights out at bars and nightclubs. Not exactly dinner-with-an-old-friend attire.

Hayley takes you by the hand to her room, where she starts pulling out dresses and holding them against you. You laugh, “Hayles! These are your show outfits, I can’t wear them!”

“Why not?” she frowns. “We’re the same size, I still get to choose which ones I wear every night so I’ll have plenty of options. And Tom and that never come and watch, so he’ll be none the wiser.” She waggles her eyebrows, wiggling the dress in her hands from side to side. “Come on,” she drawls the last word, stretching it out. “You know you want to.”

You snatch it from her and scoff, “If I take this, will you stop?”

She grins wickedly. “Not until you’ve shown me what undies you’re gonna wear, too!”

You feel your face grow warmer as you shake your head, “And what does that have to do with the price of fish?!”

She cackles, “You know.”

“I know nothing, remember? I’m still yet to… Y’know,” you falter. Hayley doesn’t quite know the full extent of yours and Tom’s friendship, only knowing that you’ve both been coming to this park as long as she has. She doesn’t know that there’s ample ammo for her to tease you about tonight, and you put all your energy into calculating everything you’re about to say to make sure you don’t slip up. That’s the last thing you need.

“Is that why you’ve got these?” she asks with a giggle, already back in your bedroom and scooping up a pair of lace panties with her finger from the packing cube you’d assigned for underwear.

Your face now a furnace, you chase after her with a, “Shut it!” as you snatch them away. “They’re for if we ever go… Y’know, out anywhere. Sometimes it just gives you a little boost to wear a cute matching set, know what I mean?”

She grins, “I know, I’m just yanking your chain. Wear what you want, as long as you look good doing it.” Her voice gets quieter as she heads back into the main room of the caravan, until she calls out loudly, “So, where is he taking you, do you know?”

“He says he’s going to cook for me,” you state as you press Hayley’s dress to your front and look in the mirror. “Yeah, said he’ll text me when it’s ready.”

Hayley suddenly reappears back in your doorway looking fearful. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah! Why shouldn’t I be?” you ask with a frown.

“You ever seen Tom’s cooking?”

You shake your head. “Not since we were about 14? And all he could do was heat up tinned spaghetti and dump it onto bread he didn’t even think to toast. But he said he’d do better, and that was four years a-” Your face falls at her expression.

“Babe. He was literally eating that for dinner yesterday when we called for him to come sit round the fire,” she tells you with raised eyebrows.

“So… I should… Just go there as soon as I’m ready?” You ask, nodding slowly, and Hayley mirrors you. She shows you from the window which trailer is Tom’s, and lets you finish getting yourself ready.

After showering, getting dressed - including the set of underwear that Hayley teased you about, even though you definitely don’t plan on having anyone else see it, it’s definitely just to give you the little boost of confidence you need - and applying as much make-up as you feel comfortable putting on for tonight - you give Hayley a quick hug, though she has you pose for some photos first to “commemorate” how good you look in her dress. She’s quick to usher you out of the door afterwards, though, telling you where she’ll bury her spare key so you can get back in (“If you get back in tonight,” she adds with an exaggerated wink as you roll your eyes at her and walk out) and pointing out one more time where Tom lives.

You knock on the door tentatively, but the muffled country music you can hear from the other side tells you that Tom probably can’t hear you. You try the door and it opens easily, allowing you to see Tom dancing around the tiny expanse of his kitchen, singing under his breath as he takes a handful of spaghetti out from its packet and throws it into a pot of boiling water as though it were a part of the way he’s dancing.

Your phone still clutched in your hand, you go to position it in a way to start recording him, but he catches you. Instead of looking surprised, he simply beckons you over with one finger. Walking across to him, as he’s still singing and swaying, he holds his hand out, to which you give him yours and he twirls you around. “You look amazing,” he smiles at you breathlessly.

Trying not to get too flustered, you quickly reply, “You scrub up alright, yourself!” You gesture to him, looking down at his dress shirt and - “Oh, so when I wear jeans to have dinner with you, I get ridiculed, but -”

“Shhh-sh-sh-sh,” Tom shushes you with a smile, pressing his finger against your lips, which you laugh against. “How come you’re early then, eager beaver? Didn’t even need to tell you where I live.”

“Hayley told me. Warned me to come over and make sure I don’t get food poisoning or something,” you giggle, and Tom gasps, holding a hand to his chest.

“That cheeky cow!” He jokes before draping his arm over your shoulders and aiming you towards the stove. “Well, I’ll have you know, I’ve been cooking not just one, but two options. See, I couldn’t remember if you ate meat or not, so I’ve got some… Broccoli spaghetti dish on the go on this side, and then there’s sausage and rice in this big pot here,” he points out.

“At least none of it came out of a tin, good boy,” you smirk as you take a spoon from the utensil rack on his counter and start stirring the spaghetti around to make sure it all starts cooking. You continue stirring the different pots, asking Tom if there’s anything more to be done, but he simply carries on singing along to what you recognise playing now as Take Me Home, Country Roads, taking another utensil off the rack from where he stands behind you to sing dramatically into the handle as he side-steps back and forth around you. “Can’t believe you actually listen to this stuff,” you muse, shaking your head softly.

“What’d you mean?! It’s decent,” Tom pouts.

“Tom, my granddad listens to Jim Reeves,” you point out.

“Then your granddad’s got excellent taste, don’t he,” Tom grins before putting his hands on your hips. Your heart skips several beats as he gently pushes you out of the way. “C’mon, now, let me dish up. You go sit at the table, yeah?”

Your heart soars again when you see there’s already knives and forks laid out, as well as a candle off to the side. Tom soon follows, holding both plates out to offer to you. You pick the one you prefer and set it down in front of you. Tom puts his down on the other side of the table, fishing a lighter out from his back pocket to light the candle between you. “Shit, I forgot to pour the - d’you like wine? If not, I’ve got some Coke I can put in a wine glass to look dead fancy,” he calls from the kitchen area, where his head is buried in a cupboard.

“You’ve got wine glasses?!” You ask incredulously, leaning around to look at him. “I don’t even know you anymore!”

“Ha-ha,” he deadpans, throwing you a sarcastic smile before holding up the wine bottle. You signal your response and he fills up both glasses accordingly. “Bought ’em to impress a girl, dunno if it was worth it yet, though.” Everything inside you feels like lead again. Of course this wasn’t anything more than platonic. As he hands you the glass, he waggles his eyebrows, “Well? Was it?”

Relieved that you had nothing to worry about after all, you grin, “Am I supposed to be the girl you’re trying to impress? Even though I’ve watched you eat worms?”

He rolls his eyes as he takes his seat again. “It was one worm and it was because shitty Damien dared me, alright?” He defends with a smile, and you laugh. “And besides, I was six! You were no saint back then either, how many times did I eat figurative shit because a certain someone kept tying my shoelaces together?!”

“I can’t believe you never even realised when I was doing it, too,” you clutch your stomach as you sigh, coming down from the raucous laughter his memory had caused you. You offer your glass out to him, “Here, to old times, eh?”

“And new,” he smiles softly, clinking his glass against yours.

Conversation never runs dry between the two of you as you finally catch up properly over everything in the past three years. You laugh, you tease, you reminisce fondly. After dinner and a store-bought dessert that Tom still puts effort into looking fancy, the two of you retire to his sofa to watch whatever’s on TV.

You deliberately sit so that there’s a little distance between you, not wanting to be presumptuous, and so when you try to sit comfortably, tucking your feet begins you, your rest your head on the back of the seat, ending up with your head just shy of brushing against Tom’s arm. You can sense him looking at you in your peripheral, and look over at him in question. When you make eye contact, he flashes his eyes at you and jerks his head to the side, silently offering you to shuffle up next to him. You do so, moving until your head ends up resting on his shoulder. He drapes his arm around you, holding onto your arm and squeezing it gently.

After a few minutes, you tilt your head up to look at him again. The faintest hint of stubble peeks through his skin, illuminated by a movie you’ve seen so often you could recite it, but it makes Tom laugh nonetheless. Eventually, he’s the one that catches you staring, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard.

You push yourself up on the couch a little to get a better look at his face. His gaze never leaves you, but he’s looking a little lower than your eyes. As he looks up at your eyes again, he licks his lips. “Tell me now,” he starts quietly. “Tell me to stop, an’ I will.”

You softly shake your head. “Why would I do that?”

Grinning with a sigh of relief, he reaches up to hold the back of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s a long one, starting out soft but pressing harder as it carries on. You sit up on your knees to angle yourself better, holding his face in your hands so as not to break the contact with him as your lingering pecks continue, but he quickly - considering it was blindly - taps one of your legs to insinuate that he wants hold of it. You shuffle around until he can grab your ankle to pull it until you’re straddling him.

Your arms rest on his shoulders as you keep kissing him. God, you never want to stop kissing him. The hand not still holding your head snakes between you to rub at your jaw, gently massaging it open to slip his tongue between your lips. You let out a whine involuntarily and curse yourself - your ex hated noises like that - but Tom only pushes you closer to him, humming into the kiss.

Finally, the two of you break away from each other, gasping heavily for air. You catch each other's gaze and share the same ear-to-ear smile. His pupils are blown out and his already plump lips look bigger and redder than ever. You have the urge to take the lower one between your teeth, despite not knowing if he’s into that.

Before you can do anything, he’s pulling you close again, though not to kiss your lips. Holding the back of your neck deliberately, he guides you down to start kissing just below your ear. The sensation you feel from it is like no other, and you find yourself whining and whimpering even more. The sounds only encourage Tom as he finds a sweet soft spot at the side of your neck and sucks on it especially hard. You didn’t expect the low moan to roll out of your mouth, nor did you expect that to cause Tom’s hips to buck up against you.

He stops suddenly, his head whipping back to look up at you. His pupils are blown to almost the size of his irises. “I, um… I’ve never… Sorry, I… Fuck, I dunno how to say this without sounding weird…”

You smile softly at him, playing with the curls behind his ears. “It’s okay. I haven’t, either.”

His face softens. “Then everything’s as it should be, right?” He smiles up at you, his hands moving to hold your hips. Something about his touch coupled with where you are makes you want to grind against him, and so you do, holding the back of his head to pull him close enough to rest his forehead against yours. His mouth suddenly dry, he swallows again. “We should probably move this to the bed… Right? More room an’ that.”

You climb off his lap and hold out your hand. He stands and takes it, leading you to the door between you and his bed. He wrenches the door open, then pulls your arm with enough force to send you crashing against him, chest to chest, before his hands find your jaw again to bring it up to resume kissing you. You giggle against his lips, “What happened to the bed?”

Tom presses another peck onto you. “Missed kissing you already,” he grins back against yours. Neither of your hands stop moving around, exploring each others’ bodies, until you can’t bear not feeling his skin against yours a moment longer.

Moving to run your finger along his buttons, you look at him expectantly. “Can y-… Do you want…”

With his trademark smile, Tom’s gaze never leaves yours as he undoes a few buttons before grabbing the back of his collar and throwing his shirt off completely. Entranced, you stroke all over his torso before tracing invisible lines between each of his freckles. Kissing every part of you that he can reach, he eventually pipes up, “Sort of feeling underdressed here.”

You look up to grin at him, “Actually, I think you’re wearing too much.”

“Yeah, course you would,” he smirks as his hands slide up your back to the fastening of your dress. He flashes his eyes at you, a silent request, and you nod. He slowly pulls down the zip until the dress, which you were able to just slide over your head anyway, falls off of your body and pools at your ankles. Tom leans back, looking you up and down as he takes you all in. You’d feel very exposed, were it not for the look in his eye. “Fuck me,” he exclaims under his breath. “You are fucking phenomenal.”

Smiling bashfully, you pull him back towards you by the belt loops of his jeans. “Now who’s overdressed, eh?” You ask as you press yet another kiss to his lips.

“Right,” he grins mischievously, pushing you back so that you fall onto his bed, “you get down there.” Giggling, you shuffle back towards his pillows, lay back to rest on your elbows and watch him unbuckle his belt. He notices and starts humming an unintelligible song that he goofily gyrates to, pulling his belt out and waving it around. You roll around laughing as he continues putting on the most Tom-like striptease for you. Once he’s kicked his jeans off, he clambers onto the bed, crawling up until he’s hovering over you, his face not even an inch from yours. He tilts his chin up until the tip of his nose bumps past yours and trails up your bridge, before bringing it back down and rubbing it against the tip of yours again, side to side. “Never thought this day would come,” Tom admits softly.

“Me neither,” you reply back in the same tone. “Never been more glad to be wrong.”

Letting a laugh slip between his lips, Tom nods, “Me, too.” He kisses your nose before looking down your body, letting his fingertips brush against the cup of your bra. Your breath hitches at his proximity, and he looks back at you to grin, “You sure you didn’t think this was happening?”

You pout, “It’s just nice to know that I look sexy, that’s all!”

“Fuck, yes, you do,” he growls as he leans back down to kiss you, his hand gripping your covered breast. You push yourself up and he pulls back, eyebrows knitted, as you reach back awkwardly to try and unfasten your bra. With another smile, Tom reaches over and takes over, fumbling a few times before eventually getting there. Impatiently, you move your arms to throw your bra aside, not caring where it lands, and Tom’s immediately transfixed on your naked chest.

You reach up to place a finger beneath his jaw, pushing it back up closed, and giggle as soon as you move it back and his jaw drops yet again. He reaches down to grab both of them, one in each hand, and a gentle rush of euphoria sweeps through you. He kisses you again, timing the press of his lips with the squeeze of his hands.

One hand moves from massaging your breast to slowly slide down your torso. This is it, where everything comes to an end. You await with bated breath, hoping he'll just rest his hand on your tummy while he kisses you, or something. But his hands dip lower, and just as you feel him lifting the elastic of your underwear, your hand flies to his wrist, gripping tightly. He stops kissing to look you in the eye, confused concern on his face. "Y'alright? Wanna stop?"

You swallow hard and shake your head. "It's… It's okay, you don't have to - I can- want to take care of you."

The concern in his expression grows. "This is a two-way street, love. If you don't want it, I'm not having it, either."

You pout, "No! It's not that I don't want it! I- I do, so bad, I just…" You sigh. "So, the reason I've never gotten anywhere yet in this… Department, is because I… I tend to… Produce… A lot. And I get that that's, y'know, gross, so… You don't have t-”

Tom interrupts you by taking your face in his hands and kissing you sweetly. “You.” He says before kissing you again. “Are far from that.” Another kiss, and then his brow furrows. “You mean to tell me that dickhead -?” His eyebrows then raise in realisation. “When he asked if you were… ‘Disgusting’ with me, last year…” You nod slowly, and Tom turns his nose up. “Fucking wanker. Thank fuck you’re mine now, eh?” For years, you’d been used to your heart soaring just for it to drop. You feel that sensation reverse, the heavy weight of your ex’s insults flying off of you at Tom’s words, smiling back at him as his adoring eyes look down at you, his thumbs caressing your cheeks.

You slide your hands onto his shoulders with an, “Always was, really."

"Oh, yeah?" he asks, taking one of your hands into both of his, holding the palm out to kiss it.

You bite your lip into a smile. "I, uh… Whenever me and my ex did used to… Try, the only thing that could get me going was…" You falter, looking up at him as he keeps kissing down your arm.

"Was what, angel? Didn't catch that last bit," he grins against your skin.

You giggle, "It was you, okay? Prick."

Tom buries his face in your neck, his mouth working the tender skin just below the mark he’d already left until you let out another moan, to which his hips roll down to grind against yours. With just two thin layers between you, you feel his thick member spread your lower lips beneath the lace of your underwear, and you instinctively rub yourself up and down his length, your legs wrapping around him. “Here, guess what,” he mutters into your ear.

“What?”

“I could only ever get off thinking of you, an’ all.” You feel his teeth against the shell of your ear as you can hear the grin in his voice. “So, does that mean…” He snakes a hand back to the elastic of your panties, working his fingertips beneath them, “That all this is for m- ohhh, fuuuuck,” he moans breathily as his fingers slide down into your wetness. “You get this turned on, just by me?” He asks, and you nod quietly, still not sure how to respond. He looks at you adoringly. “I must be pretty fucking fit, then, mustn’t I?” he asks, another, more arrogant, smile just pulling at the corners of his lips, and you laugh.

“You’re such a dickhead,” you scold, but honestly, it’s a massive comfort to you knowing that even in this most tender of moments, the dynamic of you and Tom isn’t lost. This feels good, natural, right. No need to fear anything. No need to worry. It’s just you and him. Like Tom said, as it should be.

“Oh, I am?” he asks teasingly, his expression growing more mischievous. “Even when I’m doing this?” He runs his middle finger down between your folds until it slides easily inside of you, guided by your wetness. You drop your head back into his pillows, moaning louder than ever and bucking your hips against his finger. “Fuuuck,” Tom groans, “you feel so fucking good.”

“Not too wet?” you ask quietly, and he pulls his finger back, sucks it clean while looking you dead in the eye, and then makes quick work of pulling your underwear off of you.

Sinking down to lay between your legs, he sighs dreamily. “Absolutely not.” He laps all around at the mess you’ve already made noisily, cleaning you up before tracing his tongue carefully along your slit. Just as it brushes over your clit, your breath hitches and the whine underneath it lingers. Tom looks up at you, his big brown eyes warm and safe watching your reaction as he first sucks on the sensitive area, and then laps the tip of his tongue back and forth against it. Your hand flies into his hair as you moan and you feel his lips turn up against you.

Tom blindly finds your free hand to reach up and connect his fingers with yours, a tender bond as his other hand spreads you apart. Angling his head slightly, you watch his tongue fly quickly against you, his own moans echoing yours as you push his face against you, desperately craving more, you don’t quite know in what sense, you just want pleasure, you just want him. You feel yourself gushing around him and you start to feel a little tense. Feeling the change in you, the hand holding yours squeezes, a reassurance.

He once again happily cleans up after you, muttering unintelligible sweet nothings inside of you as he does. You lock eyes with him again as he resumes sucking on your clit, moving to slide two fingers inside of you. While you certainly feel more full, it doesn’t hurt as much as you were warned it would, thanks to your… Overproduction. Instead, you feel a sensation you’ve never felt before. Stronger than you’ve ever even felt whenever you’ve pleasured yourself. You keen against his fingers, moaning and whining as he gently encourages you, “Fuck, yes, angel, that’s it… Oh, fuck, you’re squeezing around my fingers… Gonna cum all over my fingers, yeah? Do it, baby, cum for me.”

As though working on his actual command, you feel a rush through every nerve in your body, one that pushes its way from your core, spreading along your spine until it arches, across your arms until you’re grabbing the sheets, through your legs until they bend in the air above you. Not wanting to be loud enough to be heard throughout the whole park, you bite through your lip as you let out a long, high-pitched moan throughout your release.

Tom doesn’t surface for some time as he drinks you in, finally re-emerging with shining lips and wild eyes. Wiping the excess of you off with the back of his hand, he crawls back up your body to kiss you, practically pushing your entire self into the mattress. “God, you are fucking incredible,” he grins against your skin as he moves to kiss your neck, this time just under your other ear.

“I can’t even pretend the same’s not true of you, a certain something’s betrayed me, there,” you joke, and he chuckles under his breath, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “Be honest with me, though. It wasn’t… Too much, was it?”

“Not in the slightest, babe,” he whispers into your ear as he presses gentle pecks along your jaw and to your lips. “I’d happily stay down there and eat you out all night long, but…” He pushes himself up to kneeling, palming himself through his boxers as he looks at you hungrily. “I am fucking aching to be inside of you,” he admits. You go to reach out as well, but he bats you away with a soft smirk, “I’m already certain I’m not gonna last long at all, sweets, give me some credit.”

“I don’t care how long you last,” you smile wistfully, watching him climb off you and slide his boxers off, hypnotised by the way his cock springs out as the elastic waistband drags past it.

He glances over as he takes a condom out of his drawer and smirks, “Take a photo, won’t ya, it’ll last longer.” You’d react, but you’re still enamoured watching him roll it down his length.

He gets back onto the bed, lining himself up at you with a look in his eye like he can’t believe it’s finally happening. You feel his tip pressing into you and gasp, your lips forming a near-perfect O before spreading out into a smile. Tom mirrors you as his hands find yours, holding them both just either side of you as he pushes in. You certainly feel the pressure of him sliding in, but it’s far from painful. His eyes study your expression with concern, obviously anticipating you to be in pain as well, but you give him a reassuring smile and a nod as he starts pulling out and pushing himself back inside of you again.

His fingers and his tongue were enough to drive you wild earlier, but nothing on this earth has ever made you feel as good as him thrusting into you. He starts off slow and gentle, but your body yearns for more. As you start to buck your hips up against him, he once again rubs the tip of his nose against yours, stroking his thumbs along the sides of your hands as he shushes you. “Patience, sweets,” he soothes. “We’ve got all summer to fuck like rabbits… But tonight, I just wanna make love to you.”

Too euphoric to filter anything you say now, you breathe out an, “I do.” Tom looks at you, his expression a mixture of deliberation and elation. You beam widely, “You may be a dickhead, but I fucking love you.”

His smile practically touches his ears as he cradles your face with an, “I love you, an’ all, you big twat,” before leaning down to kiss you passionately, moaning against your lips with every thrust. As you lose yourself in the embrace, you feel Tom slip out from you. Again, you start to worry yourself, but Tom’s assuring stroke against your cheek as he simply guides himself back in and returns to kissing you with just as much fervour puts those fears at ease.

You feel the crescendo of another orgasm looming just as Tom’s expression starts to change, as well. Wanting nothing more than to climax alongside him, you try and hurry yourself along a little by rubbing your clit in circles. His pace slows as he watches you, entranced, though your body craves him more than ever. “Fuck, please, Tom, don’t stop,” you whine, and he groans as he resumes rocking his hips into you again.

“God, you’re so fucking hot, you know that?” He asks you breathlessly. “Keep going, baby, keep showing me how you touch yourself, fuck, that’s it.”

“’M gett- fuck, I’m already close again, Tom,” you moan, and his motions lose any sense of rhythm, just trying desperately to release.

“Me too, sweets, I’m - fuck, I love you,” he groans as he snaps his hips harshly into you. That final press hits just the right spot inside of you and you feel yourself come apart for him yet again, squeezing around him as you ride your second wave of the night.

As you both come down, he presses soft kisses all over your face, down your neck, as far down your chest as he can reach while staying inside you until he finally pulls out. “I’d help you out again, but, uh, I think you’re probably a bit sensitive down there by now,” he grins, leaning up to kiss your forehead. “Let me go get rid of this thing and get you a towel, alright?” Unable to move, talk, or even really think, you simply nod at him, which earns you another breathy chuckle and another peck to the top of your head as he walks off.

He returns within a minute, and insists on gently patting you dry, the tenderness in his eyes matching his touch. You eventually muster enough energy to reach over to him and card your fingers through his curls. He leans into your touch, smiling over at you as you mutter, “I love you, too.”

“D’you know, I’ve never been happier to hear anything else.”

Once you’re all cleaned up, he lays next to you, and you lift yourself up to let his arm rest beneath your head. Curling up against his chest, you let him envelope you, enjoying the comfortable silence until he pipes up, “That was fucking amazing. Like, I knew it’d be good, but… You hear all these things about your first time. And I was always scared with Ruth that I’d mess up somehow, or I’d kill the mood, you know how daft I am. But it was all just… Part of it, weren’t it?”

You press your head into the crook of his shoulder. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I was always scared of the same, and then, well…” You gesture down between your legs.

“’Ey,” Tom scolds, reaching down to grab your wrist. “No more of that. It’s just the way your body works, yeah? And your body is fucking perfect. I’ll never stop proving that to you.”

And he really doesn’t. When you had first disclosed to Hayley that you were a virgin, the previous year when you’d come with your ex, she’d told you, “Sex is like Pringles; once you pop, you just can’t stop. At least, I think that’s the Pringles thing.” You’d always laughed that off, but now that it’s happened to you, it really is true. You wake up to it, you’re at it as soon as he’s finished his shift, just before you go to sleep. And then there’s the rest. Passing him while he’s working to sneakily grab, pinch or slap his ass cheek as you walk past, only for him to get his own back by “innocently cuddling” you from behind while also pressing himself against your own ass just once before placing a single kiss to your neck and running off. Your personal favourite is knowing all you have to do is send him a racy photo of you proving that you’re wearing one of his shirts and nothing else, and knowing that if you look out of the window you’ll see him running across the caravan park at top speed, leaping over any obstacle to then practically fly into his caravan and tackle you onto his bed.

You still try and maintain staying with Hayley for as long as possible, but with her being the evening entertainment, and her telling you that she was banning “all hanky-panky” at her place, that didn’t leave you with much else to do to spend your evenings than to hang out in Tom’s caravan with him, anyway. Not that she minded. Even when she would insist on a you-and-her day, it would mostly be to gossip about Tom, anyway.

There’s a few days when you start to wonder if perhaps Tom only wants you around for sex and nothing else. That all gets easily explained away when eventually Mother Nature clocks in for her monthly shift. You warn Tom that nothing can happen for the next week, and that you’ll probably just stay at Hayley’s again to avoid any stained sheets or exposure to sanitary products, but Tom remains as joined to your hip as ever. He buys heating pads, pain relief, snacks and drinks, extra products, anything you may need, happily letting you curl up in his lap in an attempt to soothe the cramps. A few days in, you even open up to him that you’d had doubts that he was only interested in getting into your pants, which results in many days’ worth of constant reassurance whenever you’re with him and texts of affirmations when you’re not. He certainly doesn’t turn down the gratuitous blowjob you give him as a result of being so patient on a night you know Hayley’s working especially late, though.

The last weekend of the last week of you being in Cornwall hits you like a brick wall. You’re constantly getting emotional, which only spikes every time you so much as look at Hayley or Tom. Tom reminds you that you’ll only see him in a couple of weeks anyway, once you move up north to university. And Hayley makes you both promise you’ll come back to Cornwall at every chance you can.

Tom meets you and your family in the car park of your uni halls, already waiting to help you move in. Both of your families have dinner together while yours are still in town, and as they part, they joke that the next time they’ll see each other is at your wedding. With your ex, even trying to plan to go to the same university together seemed daunting and unnatural. But you laugh along with Tom, safe in the knowledge that your collective parents’ joke is 100% truthful.

Age 19

After a year of university, you decide to move out of your dorm and into a place with Tom. Your first housemate, you love to remind him, though that spikes up a slightly more awkward conversation while cuddled up on the sofa. “So, we were first for a lot of things.”

“Well, yeah, that’s kind of our thing,” Tom teases.

“Piss off,” you scoff, elbowing him in the side as he laughs. “I mean, we were for pretty much everything, but not where it counts. You weren’t my first boyfriend, and I wasn’t your first, either. So, like, in terms of the way our relationship goes on through the years… I dunno, just sucks a bit that that’s like one of the only things we don’t have now.”

Tom deliberates for a second. “The way I like to see it,” he starts. “I consider you my first for a lot of sort of extraneous things, little things that add up to make us, us. But in terms of our relationship, it’s easy enough to explain.” You look over at him in confusion, and he takes the opportunity to take your chin between his finger and thumb to grin at you, pulling you close to mutter three words to you before pressing a long and sweet kiss to your lips: “You’re my only.”

#tom grant #tom grant x reader #tom grant x you #tom grant imagine #tom grant fanfiction #tom grant fanfic #tom grant fic #tom make up #tom make up x reader #tom make up x you #tom make up imagine #tom make up fanfiction #tom make up fanfic #tom make up fic #*myfics #fic: tom g

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jeonginsdiary · 2 months

Note

from your prompt post, i’d LOVE number 2 with lee hyunjin!

“stop! i’m ticklish!”

- tickletober day 30

- caught

- lee! hyunjin | ler! seungmin

—————

hyunjin snuck into the kitchen for the millionth time this week, opening the pantry as quietly as possible and sticking his fingers into the big box of chocolate cookies.

yeah, he'd been stealing a few a day… so? it's not like anyone would notice...

just after shoving the last cookie in his mouth and licking his lips, a voice none other than kim seungmin's made him jolt in his place.

"so that's where they've been going." the younger said, slowly advancing on the dancer.

hyunjin panicked. "wait, i swear it wasn't me!" he retorted, mentally facepalming at the crumbs he knew were decorating his lips.

seungmin poked his tummy.

"stop! i'm ticklish!" he bit back a squeal, stumbling into the wall and slumping to the ground when the vocalist initiated a poke attack across his sides and stomach. "nonononono!" the older whined through poorly hidden laughter, a toothy smile plastered to his face.

seungmin raked his nails along the boy's sides a few times, forcing a stream of quick giggles from his victim before digging into his hips, pulling a loud scream and throaty laughter.

"АНАНАНАНАНАНАНАН THIS ISN'T FAHAHAHAHAHAIR!!" hyunjin clawed at the younger's hands, leaving smears of chocolate along seungmin's arms.

the vocalist smirked, working his fingers up to the boy's armpits with difficulty and plunging into the sensitive skin.

"i caught you jinnie, looks like you need to learn how to share!" he said over the dancer's boisterous laughter.

hyunjin could only shake his head and dig his feet into the floor, his socks slipping under the tiles and making him crash back down. he grabbed at the vocalist's shirt, leaving brown stains on the white fabric while clamping his arms to his sides as tight as possible.

in all honesty, he tried holding out a little bit longer, tried proving to the younger he could endure a little tickling. but once seungmin found that spot at the hollow of his pit and dug in as hard as he could, the older lost all of his composure.

"NОООООООООНОНОНОНО!! STAAAAAAAAHP AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAGHH!!”

hyunjin did not know the younger was this good at tickling... he clawed and kicked and flailed, finally gasping in a big breath when seungmin pulled his hands out of his underarms.

"okayokayokay! i'm really sorry i swear it'll never happen again!" the boy rambled helplessly, curling up on the cold floor and wrapping his arms around his torso.

the vocalist stood up with a sheepish smile, patting the older's back before making his way to the refrigerator. "i'll get you some water — and maybe next time share the cookies."

—————

tbh i js use siri to decide who the ler is going to be😭 but i thought this plot was kinda cute!! i hope you liked it, especially @jiniretluvr !!

#kpop tickle #stray kids #stray kids tickle #tickletober

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poptart-productions · 1 year

Text

Crazy In Love

[eren jaeger boyfriend headcanons]

pairing // eren jaeger x black! reader

content // y/n in their loner arc, some nsfw mostly fluff, stoner! eren, mechanic! eren, streamer/gamer! eren, swearing, spoilers for s4 bc there are some ppl who haven’t watched yet

a/n // been getting back into my aot obsession

applies to both modern and canon eren

this is more of a drabble than a one shot but if you want more of this au. . .shawty all you gotta do is ask

gender isn’t really mentioned but eren’s stream does call you mommy at one point, just ignore it otherwise

streamer! eren is in the works rn tbh

——————————✩———————————

ੈ✩ | so modern/high school eren pre time skip is an absolute menace

ੈ✩ | he behaved for a week and then all that went out the window when jean said something under his breath

ੈ✩ | genuinely has anger issues, adhd, and depression—which he tends to show through unbridled rage

ੈ✩ | you’d be lying if you said he didn’t catch your eye; he was attractive and was in a trio when you ain’t even got one true friend. but he had three, and he didn’t seem to need or even want any more

ੈ✩ | that’s why it is so fucking hard to get close to this nigga; there were times he was such a dick to you for no reason—if it’s any consolation he feels like shit about that and ten times out of ten it never had anything to do with you

ੈ✩ | gremlin eren? gremlin eren

ੈ✩ | this nigga can never shut up, and while mikasa is the number one person who gets him to stop acting up, she gets ACTIVE when he’s in a losing fight

ੈ✩ | eventually he got in trouble so much that his ass got expelled, his father—after trying literally everything else, got him a medical marijuana card—mans said “bet” and never stopped since

ੈ✩ | OKAY NOW MODERN MANBUN EREN—in the time that he was gone, mikasa and armin took you under their wing, becoming your first real friends; and as they made you comfortable, you started coming into your own more

ੈ✩ | you’d heard about eren’s whereabouts, and knew they talked to him about you, but you always refused to talk to him when given the chance because there was a time where you GENUINELY thought he hated you

ੈ✩ | everyone on tumblr says he’s a stoner and i have no choice but to agree—like that’s why he’d be so mellowed out, and with no titans he’d be the coolest mf out there

ੈ✩ | then when mikasa found out you had a thing for him since freshmen year she finally gets the gang back together four years later—she 100% snitched and bro. . .you almost didn’t recognize him as he walked into the karaoke bar

ੈ✩ | he’d grown his hair out—he had just grown in general, shooting from 5’11 to 6’3, and he’s gotten some tattoos as well

ੈ✩ | your jaw went slack as you gaped at mikasa who only gave you knowing glance

ੈ✩ | not only that, but his voice has gotten an unbelievable amount of bass to it—you almost zoned out every-time it was his turn to sing

ੈ✩ | eren knows how short life is—and he goes after what he wants—he always has, but tbh younger eren never had romantic interest and for the longest time he was a closeted aromantic—getting off-topic but that changed as he grew and he asked you out immediately on a count of what i said before

ੈ✩ | guy is still aromantic but does experience love (though mostly platonic) for very few people,

ੈ✩ | because of that, his confession is the most genuine thing you’ve ever heard—“i didn’t realize it then, but i’d always felt different about you”

“you’re so precious, and sweet and kind—and you’re so fucking good to others, and i thought it was a prank or something when you tried to talk to me—but fuck, when mikasa told me you used to like me, i couldn’t miss the opportunity so i gotta ask. . .”

“would you go out with me?”—and coming from the dude you’ve been crushing on for years and being a person who no one has ever expressed romantic interest to over things you can’t control, you did in fact start crying

ੈ✩ | because he’s so hard to get close to, he’s had many pick-me’s try—even in his gremlin arc—thinking they was in a romance webtoon; jumping in while he was beating the shit out of whoever—“eren, look at me! this isn’t you!”

ੈ✩ | fuck your insecurities about that though because eren is literally the sweetest and most affirming person out there once you get to know him

ੈ✩ | surprisingly a hopeless romantic—only for you—he’s your biggest supporter and he simps so hard. your first date is a picnic, he asked jean—after he apologized and they formed a friendship—to help him throw together a little spread for you

ੈ✩ | he’s absolutely in love with you and will do anything for you

ੈ✩ | your race has so little bearing on your relationship but every once in a while he’ll randomly remember he’s got a melanated lover—and what new circumstances that brings

ੈ✩ | like when he’ll just a get a call a from you at three a.m and answers thinking he’s gonna get some ass and you just start crying

“babe i’ve been doing my hair since 10 p.m and it’s not even halfway done—and i’m so fucking tired but if i. . .” you sniffle, “if i go to sleep now i can’t go to class because my hair looks like shit”

“babe, what are you talking about, why is it—?”

he eventually comes over because he’s so confused as to what’s taking so long, but after he offered to help you and he made you cry even more he understood—nigga broke a sweat tryna wrangle that shit

y’all gave up and decided to miss out on class and tackle it in the morning; he helps you wrap it up and you guys—despite saying you were tired for an hour you could go to sleep so just watched coryxkenshin until the sun came up

ੈ✩ | he’s not only white, but he’s white-european he simply does not understand these things

ੈ✩ | but the fact that he makes an effort to understand your culture in the first place will literally make you cry sometimes—like you can visibly see him fighting his adhd so he can listen to you talk about your hair or what a ‘black card’ is and you always reward him with a kiss for listening to you

ੈ✩ | once he gets it though he’s hard chilling. you notice he started to use more aave; and he started paying for you to get your hair done bc he’s a trust fund kid, and he will always respect the amount of effort that goes into it. he’s also like, super into using aave and slang—he uses it more than you, and even knows the uncle ruckus joke despite NEVER watching boondocks in his life; he doesn’t think he’s black but. . .y’know. and it only gets worse when he meets your family

ੈ✩ | your mother LOVES him, and is constantly telling you that she wants him as her son-in-law, he’s repsectful, handsome, strong, and hard-working—she will literally never forgive you if you let him go

ੈ✩ | EREN. JAEGER. AT. A. COOKOUT.

ੈ✩ | if it’s his first one he’s super jittery and nervous at first. but eren’s a super chill dude so if you have to leave him alone he’ll be cool with anyone

ੈ✩ | your uncles wanna sit in the driveway and pop a cold one? sign him up. your little cousins/siblings swear they can beat him in mario kart? they fucking wish, your aunts wanna sit and talk shit—he was doing that anyway—he’s a super friendly person and he gets along well with anyone

ੈ✩ | will literally film tiktoks with you at the family cookout despite hating having pictures or videos taken of him—he sees how happy you are so he doesn’t care

ੈ✩ | i feel like eren has a very physical job and streams part time for funsies. so yeah when he tells your family that he’s a mechanic when they ask they literally erupt

ੈ✩ | because he’s so hard-working, your aunts love him—constantly making him plates and taking care of him and such

ੈ✩ | and if you have any messy in-laws that try to talk shit or get with him he will deadass call them out

all those years of playing COD made his trash talk elite. . .shit. . .

“how you gon’ talk about my baby when your edges ain’t laid?”

“get your fucking teeth straight before you talk shit”

ੈ✩ | it’s the fact that he did not stop—like homegirl deadass was on the brink of tears and had to leave; nobody liked her anyway so he was good

ੈ✩ | jacked as fuck so just casually holds you down when he doesn’t want you to leave

ੈ✩ | demands kisses at all times; good morning kiss, goodnight kiss, hello kiss, good bye kiss, or just because you’re looking too damn fine

ੈ✩ | shows you off on stream.

“eren, baby—oh shit, are you streaming? my fault” your heart drops as you see yourself in the viewfinder, and you back out of the room—hiding yourself behind the door

“hang on guys—oh no babe, you’re fine”

you thought you had embarrassed him by pulling up in your pajamas but the chat was in love

you hesitantly inch closer as the chat continues to go wild

‘mommy? sorry, mommy?”

‘GAHHDAMN 🥲🕶️👌”

‘oh they fine alright”

“what did you wanna tell me?” he takes off his headset, giving you his undivided attention.

“i was gonna tell you to stop screaming”

“oh damn, you coulda kept that to yourself then” his face stiffened, half-heartedly and he turned back to the game

chuckling, you begin to walk away,

“wait~” he whines, “come here” his voice lowers as you walk toward him, already knowing what he was going to ask

you give him a kiss and pull away very quickly because you know eren too well

“i love you,” his whispers against your lips, “i love you too”

you say goodbye to his viewer and head out to continue your studies

“that’s my lover” you hear him state proudly as you closed the door

ੈ✩ | ngl, i feel like canon! eren pre-timeskip would mostly act the exact same

ੈ✩ | it’d be a little easier to win him over though. since you’re ‘different’ his curiosity draws him to you, and your perseverance and skill is something that’s warrants his respect

ੈ✩ | what’s that belief that life-threatening situations brings people together? that helps too

ੈ✩ | he starts off barely even saying two words to you and now you’ll both protect each other with your lives by the events of season two

ੈ✩ | LIKE JUST IMAGINE THE SCENE WHEN HE DISCOVERS HE HOLDS THE COORDINATE; like you and mikasa are not in good shape so he’s so determined to protect you—and you and mikasa have resigned to your fates but he’s like

“i’ll keep looking after you”

“now and forever, whenever you need me”

ੈ✩ | screaming crying and throwing up

ੈ✩ | or the scene where he takes back the wall in his titan form—and you immediately tackle him as soon as he’s comes staggering out of the nape,

“you did it eren!”

ੈ✩ | most def, especially after that scene from s3—his crush on you is very obvious—like let’s say you pushed mika out of the way and you got your ribs broken instead of her; when you guys make it to that little cabin, he’s literally putting in work to make sure you don’t have to move an inch—chopping firewood, helping make dinner, even volunteering to stand watch or staying up all night in case you need him—but of course you would still come out to check on him

“he’s like a hardworking husband and they’re his doting partner” historia would smile as she watched you two interact

ੈ✩ | eren would spend years pining for you without realizing it until the he almost lost you—be it to the titans or another man

ੈ✩ | he gets the help he needs to confess from the guys who screw him over—not entirely on purpose, but he ends up humiliating himself in front of you; the next day he’s avoiding you like he’s insane until you eventually just blurt out that you like him back

ੈ✩ | i lowkey feel like eren would be way too romantic or so lowkey people have no idea you’re dating—shit not even you knew for like a month

ੈ✩ | deadass, it took this nigga pulling up with a bouquet of flowers claiming it was for your anniversary and you just blinked at him

“are we not dating. . . ?”

ੈ✩ | pre time-skip eren is when he’s the most affectionate but even then he literally only pipes up when you’re in danger

ੈ✩ | you see a different side of him in his titan form—even though he doesn’t have the capacity for speech, his eyes tell you all you need to know.

ੈ✩ | he mellows out a lot because this is the only form he’s in where he feels like nothing can hurt you—he’s untouchable and so are you. so he’s generally a lot softer in this form

ੈ✩ | he’s like a big puppy, responding positively and humming when you scratch his head

ੈ✩ | if you don’t like saliva do NOT do missions with titan! eren. nigga literally just puts you in his mouth for cover when the spot gets too hot

ੈ✩ | and if you EVER get kidnapped for any reason eren is activating his titan form—even if the perpetrators are human he could not give a fuck—he’s already not a cautious person but he really do be wilding when it comes to you, that’s why levi tried to keep you separate before realizing that it only makes it worse.

ੈ✩ | now post time-skip canon! eren. . .bro ima be fr, that nigga is so confusing

ੈ✩ | like let’s say you didn’t know him prior and were just a jaegerist, it was genuinely so difficult to tell if he was just manipulating you or not

ੈ✩ | even when he swore up and down that he loves you—you couldn’t help but wonder if he was just saying that because he knew if you thought he cared about you, you’d be willing to do just about anything for him

ੈ✩ | now is that actually true. . . ?

maybe.

ੈ✩ | but if you knew him since childhood he’s a lot easier to read, like you were just calling bullshit when he was gaslighting mikasa and armin in that one scene—even if he tried that on you, you were not having it

ੈ✩ | he’d gladly abandon everything for you if you caught the signs quick enough, but even after he already declared war on the marlyeans, he’d still give you many chances to save him

ੈ✩ | he’s the boy who sought freedom, but he finds solace in your presence and knowing you care for him. so if you tell him you love him he will deadass just take your hand and beg you to run away with him

ੈ✩ | if you say yes—which you will—bc c’mon now, he’ll build you two a little cottage up in the mountains and live the rest of his days with you, enjoying the simple life he’d always dreamed of with the person he loves more than anything

ੈ✩ | thinking about cottage au! eren rn AHHH

ੈ✩ | now if you decide to play the anarchy route i’m sure y’all will make a great terrorist power couple

y’all some real

💅 ✨ 💖 sassy shooters 💖✨💅

i don’t actually condone this but go off ig

ੈ✩ | also generally, he’s more a physical kinda guy, so don’t feel awkward about sitting on his lap while he’s meeting with volunteers and fellow jaegerists

ੈ✩ | sometimes, you wake up to him crying quietly beside you and you always scoot over and start spooning him

ੈ✩ | every once in awhile he’ll say things that remind you of the old eren, and it makes you wanna cry every time

ੈ✩ | you still love him though, and are willing to wait for him to come around

ੈ✩ | if you die in the war though, it’s up. he’s gonna keep going forward and won’t stop until he’s dead

ੈ✩ | he loves you so much, good god you’re so heavenly

alright people NSFW time so head out if you’re not interested

ੈ✩ | so modern eren! remember how i said he was a mechanic? somehow whenever he comes home, one of you is always frustrated. like imagine you were already missing him, and he gets home and his shirt is off, his skin is glowing and hes got oil smudges painting random patches of his coveralls

“eren—“ you very loudly gulp; you had just wanted to greet your loving boyfriend with his favorite snack but when you saw him in all his glory you really couldn’t help it

ੈ✩ | eren literally always knows when you want something from him; whether it’s because he’s good at detecting it, or you’re just bad at hiding it is up for debate but he clocks you either way

ੈ✩ | but eren, being the cheeky bastard he is, makes you say it. being shy isn’t very fruitful when it comes to him

ੈ✩ | now if he’s the horny one, it’s on fucking sight yo—and there’s no running away, the longer he’s away from you, the more frustrated he becomes

“ah—! eren,” you’re preparing dinner one minute and being bent over the counter the next “—need you” he whines

ੈ✩ | yeah, mans gets v whiny when he’s desperate for it

ੈ✩ | no if ands or buts about it, eren jaeger is a nasty man—regardless of what universe he’s in

ੈ✩ | into spit, vouyerism, and all the other dirty and nasty ass shit

ੈ✩ | into anal anything—even on himself, like if you sneak down to give him a rim job while giving oral he will become so whiny

ੈ✩ | will let you peg or finger him if you’ve got the guts to dom him

ੈ✩ | his moans are something else bro

ੈ✩ | HE’S SO AFFIRMING; “go ahead baby, you can ride” “don’t be shy look at me—pretty eyes on me, on me” “fuck yes, make yourself feel good on my cock” “fuck, you’re perfect”

“i love you so much”

“fuck, are you okay? yeah? okay, gonna move”

ੈ✩ | fuck, he loves mirror sex

ੈ✩ | he’ll let you ride for as long as you want sweetheart, and when you inevitably get tired he’ll buck his hips into yours, laying you down before shifting so he could thrust up more comfortably

ੈ✩ | you don’t notice, but he pays a lot of attention to what he’s doing during sex and will constantly look up to catch your reactions when he makes a strategic change of angles as he blows your back out

ੈ✩ | so yeah he knows your body like the back of his hand

ੈ✩ | SPEAKING OF WHICH, HIS HANDS BRO OML, HE HAS THE PRETTIEST FUCKING HANDS, like they’re calloused but slender and long with a pink hue dusted over his knuckles

ੈ✩ | he would rock you on his fingers while he’s gaming because you were lonely. and because you were so good he fucks you after

ੈ✩ | so canon! eren. . .bro first of all, whoever called eren’s titan form hot. get out, bc like i’m a closeted monsterfucker but how would it work? homeboy ain’t got no lips, no dick—and even if he did it’d literally kill you.

ੈ✩ | the only thing i could think of is him covering you with his tongue or you rubbing against one of his fingers

ੈ✩ | he lets out a lot of aggression on you; sometimes he’ll even cry against you—mans just gets really emotional when he can see your face

#black reader #eren yeager #attack on titan eren #eren jaeger #attack on titan #eren x reader #eren x black reader #eren x black y/n #gender nuetral reader #anime #fanfic

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beyondtheglowingstars · 8 months

Note

Heyooo can I ask for Four w a super strong crush :0 I’m incredibly tiny but God knows if I liked exercising and also didn’t have arthritis I’d be so buff😭🤚

I feel u bestie, had I kept at training in the gym consistently and I'd probably be able to lift some decently high numbers right now lol

This was a fun one! I'm living for it tbh. Hope you don't mind that I made it headcanons, it sounded 'right' in my head to make it headcanons (anyways, you can always just request a fic if you want one after this haha).

Four with a super strong (GN) crush (hcs)

Just like the others, he was very surprised by your strength once you got to show it. It's not that he thought you couldn't be packing some power, but he certainly didn't imagine you'd have that much.

Let's just say that he was very impressed once he got to see that you also had the size to show for your strength, clothes tend to obscure many shapes, and it was clear that you took care of yourself.

His simple friendship with you turned into a massive crush faster than he could realize.

Since all of that's happened, he's felt like he's got much more in common with you than he initially thought. Being very small often had people and foes belittling his skills, and also his strength.

On a related note, he especially likes when a particularly cocky monster chooses to underestimate you based on looks alone, only to regret it not long after. Those are never his kills, but he can't help feeling some level of satisfaction when you put one of those creatures in their place.

Gives you compliments on your strength from time to time depending on a few factors.

But something along the lines of "Great thing we have someone as strong as you on our side!"/"You're very strong, so I'm sure it won't be a challenge for you at all."

If the chance ever arises in conversation with someone outside the chain, he's definitely bragging about how strong you are (and if he's not bragging about that, then you can be sure that he's mentioning another remarkable thing about you) to the other person, most of the time before he can process what he's doing.

A few members of the chain have caught on to the way he looks and talks about you, and he's gotten teased about having a crush on you a few times.

His face always turns red afterwards, because deep down he knows they're right even if he denies it to them.

He'd love to stay perched on your shoulders or back for as long as you'll allow him. He knows that he most likely doesn't weight anything to you.

But he's embarrassed to ask you for that, you'd have better luck with hugs.

But that still doesn't take away the fact that he's put himself to sleep at the thought of cuddling with you and imagining what it would be like to have your arms securely wrapped around him.

He'd love to have you as an occasional blacksmithing helper, not only because you're the person he enjoys being around the most, but also because he secretly wants to put more of your strength to the test and be the only one with front row seats to the event.

Don't worry though, he wouldn't give you any complicated tasks. Just simple things along with teaching you anything if necessary.

Of course, but that's only if you're willing to help him with whatever thing at the forge, he wouldn't force you if you don't want to. His crush on you will remain unchanged either way.

Once he grows more comfortable, he'd end up asking you to lift him up so he can reach higher places or get something that's way too high up for either of you to get, out of pure, lazy convenience.

Though that would mostly happen only when he knows you two are alone, otherwise the other Links would never let the suspicions about his crush on you go.

Hylia only knows what would happen to this man if you ever carry him in your arms, out of battle due to injury.

If he had heart eyes for you before, then now he slipped and fell into a puddle of his feelings for you and refuses to get back up after that, and the puddle only gets bigger by the second.

He'd blush at the mere mention of your name from that point on.

The scene from when you carried him back to safety would play on an endless loop for days on end.

And if his crush was easy to spot for those who paid enough attention, then now it's almost as if he carried a sign that stated all he thinks about is you.

#lu four #linked universe four #four x reader #lu four x reader #linked universe x reader #request #character headcanons

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obsessedwithtoomanythings · 11 months

Text

The Terrifying Ordeal of Falling in Love with Leon Kennedy

CHAPTER 3

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader (female reader)

Series Warnings: Minor injuries, Leon teases reader a lot, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Drinking, Drinking followed by driving, DO NOT DO THAT THIS IS FICTION, Anxiety, Leon S. Kennedy has PTSD, Leon has an anxiety attack, Anxiety Attacks, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nightmares, Leon S. Kennedy has Nightmares, Cuddling & Snuggling, Probably incorrect medical talk, Strangulation in one tiny little scene, Reader's brother was a cop who was KIA, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Grief/Mourning, Christmas Fluff, Mistletoe, Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, Arguing, Love Confessions, Looking for Alaska is mentioned, Inconvenient Love Confessions, Penis In Vagina Sex, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Leon loves eating Pussy change my mind, Shower Makeout, romantic smut, Desperate Leon S. Kennedy, They are both desperate for each other tbh, They say I love you as they come, Scar Kissing, Enthusiastic Consent, Always pee after sex, UTI PREVENTION, POV First Person, No use of Y/N

Words: 1.2K

Masterlist

April 2004

I could give a thousand reasons why

But you're going, and you know that

All you have to do is stay a minute

Just take your time

The clock is ticking, so stay

-Stay, Zedd

The bustling cafe feels inviting from the outside, but unfortunately, that atmosphere dissipates once you enter. If you aren’t a fan of crowds, that is. I glance at the clock on the wall, opting to order a second drink before leaving, given it’s pretty obvious that the friend that invited me out here isn’t coming. The barista gives me a small smile that spreads across her pink cheeks, her button nose scrunching while dimples appear.

“Another one?” She assumes, offering to take my empty cup. I nod silently, handing it to her before she rings up the same drink. Reaching for the cash in my pocket, I am beaten as a voice speaks up behind me, moving forward and placing a hand on the small of my back, my muscles tensing at the contact.

“I’ve got hers.” Oh, I know that voice. I release a breath before turning to him. His hair is much smoother than the first time I saw him and a bit damp, obvious that he’d recently showered, which is also evident by the woodsy scent that wafts off of him in waves. I’ve never been this close to him, not with his face this close anyways, and it’s hard not to notice the small details. A small mole on the bottom of his chin, dark circles under his crystal blue eyes, and a small cut on his jaw, presumably from shaving.

“Agent Kenned-” He finally looks at me, eyebrows raised before he cuts me off.

“Ah. Leon,” he corrects, corner of his lip coming up into a small smirk.

“Sorry. Leon. Why are you buying my coffee?” The question feels redundant, his card having already swiped through the machine after he orders a simple black coffee, but I find myself asking anyways.

“I owe you.” He says it as if it’s the simplest thing in the world, and he chuckles at my furrowed brows. Glad he thinks my confusion is funny. “For patching me up?”

“You know, Leon, that is kinda my job. I was paid to do that,” I explain before the barista hands me a warm cardboard coffee cup, followed quickly by her handing Leon his. It’s almost impossible to miss the phone number scribbled in black sharpie on the brown cardboard sleeve, and I release my own small giggle at the barista’s balls. I’d never be brave enough to do that.

“Something funny, Nurse Nosy?” I scoff at the nickname, wishing he could have settled on literally anything else as we step away from the line, standing off to the side.

“Do you always get phone numbers without asking?” I tease. She was really pretty.

“Sorry?” Now it’s his turn to look confused, eyebrows furrowed. I gesture to the coffee cup resting in his hands, and he looks at it before glancing back at the barista, who gives him a smile and wink. When he turns back to the point where he’s out of her line of sight, he rolls his eyes. “So, any big Saturday plans for the off-duty nurse?” He inquired leisurely, trying to make casual conversation as we slowly move toward the door.

“Well, I was supposed to meet a friend for coffee, but she bailed,” I uttered, embarrassment coloring my cheeks.

“Why not call up some of your other friends?” His unoccupied hand now rests in the pocket of his dark wash jeans, and for a moment, I find my mind racing at noticing his casual attire. A simple tee shirt, dark wash jeans, and are those Converse? I snort in response, wrapping both hands around the cup, my eyes looking around the coffee shop. Anywhere but at him.

“I think you overestimate my social skills.”

“You don’t-” He has the decency to at least seem surprised.

“It’s okay. I have a hot date with my GameCube,” I joked, an overexaggerated wink tossed in his direction. “Thanks again for the coffee.” Turning to leave, I give him a small wave, which he returns, although his eyes look like he’s locked in an argument with himself. As my fingers make contact with the cool metal of the door handle, he speaks again, loud enough that I can hear him over the whir of the machines and the light chattering of people.

“Nurse Nosy!” I turn, irritation growing on my face as he quickly makes his way over to me.

“Can you pick a different nickname, please?” I ask, and he ignores the question in favor of his own request.

“A couple of friends and I are grabbing drinks tonight. Come with.” It takes me by surprise, him inviting me out with his friends.

“Look, if this is a pity thing, it’s fine. I’m content in my loneliness.”

“It’s not. I’m just trying t-”

“To help?” His sentence is finished by me, and for a brief second, I see a flash of embarrassment on his cheeks due to the nature of my line of questioning the first time we met.

“I’m just trying to invite you out for a drink. That’s all.” It’s clear he’s not used to the pushback when it comes to these things, my skepticism and self-doubt making this harder than it needs to be.

“Why?” He rolls his eyes again, probably regretting asking in the first place by now.

“Because you seem like a decent person, and I don’t hate your company. Is that so hard to believe?” Yes. It is. Because you are you and I’m… well… me.

“Fine. One drink. Can I have the address?” I concede, figuring why the hell not. Leon allows a small smile onto his face as he nods, pulling out a pen.

“Sure. It’s only like 30 minutes away.” My face drops, mentally calculating cab fare cause there’s no way in hell I can walk that far, nor would I want to. “Something the matter?”

“No. I’m just thinking about cab fare, that’s all.” It’s not embarrassing to admit, a lot of people in DC don’t have cars, and cabs are on almost every street near the city center.

“Wait, you don’t have a car?” He pauses.

“Nope. It’s on my to-do list, and I’ve got a good chunk saved up. Should hopefully have one in the next couple months,” I explain. He returns the pen to his pocket as quickly as he removed it.

“I’ll pick you up then.”

“What?” That surprises me, his offer.

“Yeah. I invited you out. Feels a little shitty for me to force you to pay for a cab.” I get his logic, but it still feels strange.

“It’s okay, I don’t want you to have to go out of your way.”

“It’s no problem. If you give me your address, I can pick you up at like 6:30ish.” There’s no arguing with this guy, is there? I nod hesitantly, telling him my address, which he writes on his arm in small rough letters while I hold his coffee.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” I question one last time, gesturing to his recently scribbled-on arm.

"I invited you, didn’t I?” He smirks, taking his drink back, fingers brushing against mine and sending a shiver down my spine. “See you at 6:30.” Then he winks. He fucking winks. My heart jumps in my chest, too stunned to speak as he turns on his heel and heads for the door. “Hey Nurse Nosy?” He grabs my attention once more. “Wear pants.” Then he’s out the door. Pants?

Leon: @house-of-kolchek @bonnibuckets @athanasia-day @muffimtv Everything: @chaosandbubbles @kassiekolchek22 @akiramoon8088

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy smut

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morallygreyyn · 1 year

Note

I love your writing so much.

If it's not a bother, could I have a (maybe little bit ooc) scenario about Illumi realizing the people he hangs out with most (Hisoka and Reader, a truly chaotic duo) are dumbasses, but he loves enjoys having them around?

Thank you!!

those two idiots of mine (illumi x reader x bestfriend!hisoka) (scenario)

description: illumi has a semi crisis over his two self proclaimed best friends

authors note: it’s not a bother at all and you’re so sweet anon! tbh this has to be my favourite request i’ve gotten so far. illumi dealing with his chaotic duo besties with begrudging love? sign me the fuck up <3

also this also had extrovert/introvert themes so i thought i’d include the mbtis of my boys

illumi: istj (according to a quick google search)

hisoka: entp (like yours truly) (i swear sharing an mbti with hisoka is my defining trait)

reader: whatever the fuck you are (insert your mbti here)

warnings: might be a smidge ooc, i really tried my best to make it have an authentic illumi feel but my guy is dealing with emotions so yk...

requests are open!

Of all the tiresome things Illumi had dealt with in his life, having you and Hisoka be his primary source of socialising might be top of the list. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment you all started to meet up regularly for various things, nor could he remember when you had self proclaimed yourselves his best friends.

You and Hisoka were both utterly ridiculous, often matching each other's wild energy as if you were on the same brainwave.

Illumi began to question his ‘friendship’ with you when you and Hisoka started debating whether or not ketchup was a smoothie.

“It’s a blended fruit.”

“But you have it as a condiment with savoury foods.” You argued, whacking the magician’s head with a newspaper.

He swatted you away with an amused hum. “That doesn’t change its nature.”

“You don’t drink ketchup.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Illumi quietly listened to his two best friends argue as you all sat round a table.

As he watched the two of you bicker back and forth, he was unable to fathom your unique stupidity. The assassin understood that individually, his friends were incredibly intelligent and capable people. However once together, you two seemed to share the collective intellect of a prawn.

“Illumi!” The assassin was brought out of his internal suffering by the very source itself. Both you and Hisoka had decided that for some reason they needed a third person’s opinions on your debate.

“I’m not getting involved.”

“C’monn, please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“I’ll give Hisoka Killua’s number.”

“Ketchup is a savoury condiment, not a smoothie.”

You let out a whoop of victory, fist-pumping the air in your joy. “HA! Suck it Hisoka!”

“That’s no good, he’s biased.” Hisoka tutted, shaking his head and folding his arms. “You know Illumi always sides with you.”

“That’s because he loves me.”

“Unconfirmed by him.”

“Confirmed in his heart.”

“Does he even have one?’ Hisoka shot.

“Do you even have one?” You fired back.

“Touché.”

Illumi sat there locked in a daze, listening to his two best friends argue like children. Yeah, you two were both the biggest idiots he had ever met, but he wouldn’t change you for the world. Of course he would never say this, but it never stopped the two of you from trying.

And so what if he loved enjoyed having the two of you around? Who would be able to tell anyway?

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blaithnne · 7 months

Text

Early concept sketches of Midnight Giant Lauren! You can see me figuring out the style, colours, as well as Lauren’s outfits, plus a little Hilda that I wanted to include but gave up on cause I couldn’t get her to look right.

Johanna switches outfits about 3 times in this comic, so I wanted Lauren to do the same. Also, since Johanna’s deerfox outfit in the flashback is based off one of her looks in mountain king, I wanted Lauren’s to as well! So one of these outfits will be repurposed for teenaged Show!Lauren in the deerfox later down the line, which I think is fitting because she’d be around the same age in the flashback as Comic!Lauren is here

I didn’t talk much about my design process in the original post, so I’ll make a couple notes on that under the cut!

Here’s the final product for reference-

Though Johanna changes outfits about 3 times in this comic, one of these outfit changes is just the same outfit but with trousers instead of a skirt. So I wanted one of Lauren’s outfit changes to be more subtle, keeping most of the same items of clothing but only changing the jumper!

In terms of her outfits, I tried to add a little bit of a late 2000s - early 2010s vibe, which I think makes her fit in a lot more

Whilst this style still features quite noodley characters, it allowed me to bulk up Lauren much more than the troll did, so I took advantage of that and started adding in juuuust a little muscle! But she’s still kind of twig looking, so I brought back the same trick I used in the troll and gave her a big ol’ pile of logs and a heavy axe to weild in one of the sketches just to show that she’s a strong girl. I swear I tried to think of something other than an axe but it’s surprisingly hard to think of heavy objects that a character would just be. Carrying around lol

Looking back at this design a few months later, the biggest thing I’d change is I’d make her look a bit younger. It’s a little hard to design a unique character when you only have two points of reference lol, one of which is an adult and the other of which is a child, so I think I made her look a bit too much like an adult, oh well!

One thing I kept though to help her look younger is her freckles, same as Hilda! I love freckles but I swear I never use them in character designs. This design feature disappears from Hilda in the later comics, but I wanna keep them for Lauren for as long as I can tbh…

I mentioned before that I thought it would make sense for Lauren to go through a couple different hairstyles before reaching her final one in these early comics - the designs in the show are based off the ones in stone forest, which was the most recent comic to be released at the time the show came out. The style and characters designs had changed a lot from the early comics, and one of my favourite things about reading through the series is seeing how the designs changed and progressed before reaching those “final” versions, so I’m kinda reverse engineering Lauren’s design process to get that effect here, and I think one way that’d be shown is through her hair. Here her style is getting closer to the final version, her fringe has been lifted so it no longer covers her eye, and she’s got more of a curl! But her strands fall a little differently, so we’re not quite there yet…

I struggled a LOT with colouring this one, and that’s because I got the colour count wrong! One of the most overlooked ways to emulate a style is to count how many different colours appear per character - Hilda The Series generally has 6, 2 for hair and skin, and 4 for outfits, though the number can change. I miscounted here and thought the comics had 4 outfit colours like the show, but they actually only have 3. Once I realised that it made things much easier, though I still sent a little over it with some varying shades of green in her shoes. These kinds of rules generally aren’t firm, and might not even be one’s the original artist is even aware of, but when you’re trying to emulate someone’s work these little things can make all the difference

Show!Lauren probably doesn’t play guitar, I’ve mentioned before that I think she’s decent at piano and I stand by that, but I thought it was fitting for Comic!Lauren lol

That’s everything I can think of right now!

#hilda #hilda the series #art #my art #netflix hilda #hilda netflix #digital art #fanart #doodle #drawing #Hilda lauren #Lauren hilda #hildafolke #Hilda comics #character design #hilda oc #oc #my oc #sketch

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spacekid1233 · 6 months

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SDV Headcanons: Abigail!

She wasn’t always alternative, but she was born with a punk mindset FOR SURE. She questioned authority as soon as she gained cognizance

Because of that, she was (and still kinda is) a ‘problem child’. When she was younger, Pierre made her stay at the dinner table until she ate her eggplant, and Abigail sat there the WHOLE night.

Pierre sat next to her, too. She gets her stubbornness from him

I feel like she watched Scott Pilgrim VS The World and was never the same. THAT WAS HER ALT AWAKENING

As well as her bi awakening tbh, she saw Ramona Flowers and thought, “Do I wanna be you or makeout w you???”

DIY queen, she helps make patches for Sam’s battle jacket, whenever they’re together in Sebastian’s room (Sebastian tells them to shut up at LEAST twenty times, Abby and Sam are a loud and chaotic duo)

SPEAKING OF SAM AND SEBASTIAN

She sees them as the brothers she never had, and is their designated wing woman. She takes this role DEAD seriously

When tourists come over to the valley for the fair, she helps Sam get some Zuzu city baddy’s number (Him and the girl talked for a week, then never spoke again. Abigail still considers this as a win)

As for wing womaning Seb……She’s trying. Working OVERTIME.!! Please give this girl a raise (aka an amethyst)

Abigail’s own love life is pretty barren, but she doesn’t mind! She loves her own company, and frequently spends time alone in nature: just with her thoughts

HOWEVER

Have you ever had those dreams where you had the PERFECT life, and as soon as you wake up, you realize it was never yours??,

Yeah, she has those often. And it’s ALWYAS her and someone, holding pinkies as they explore the mines

She wakes up from those in a COLD SWEAT and feels miserable for like. Ten minutes

Then Caroline knocks on her door and tells her it’s time for breakfast

This was my first list of headcanons omg!! I <3 Abigail so damn much, she’s literally the woman ever. If you have any requests for this fandom or others (check my pinned post), then put them in my request box!! I’d love to write for you :3

#sdv #stardew valley #stardew valley bachelorettes #sdv bachelorettes #sdv abigail #stardew valley abigail #stardew Abigail #sdv imagines #sdv headcanons #stardew valley headcanons

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margowritesthings · 11 months

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THE MEANING OF THE SCAR

a RDR2 x Black Badge crossover

pairing: N/A for this chapter, will eventually be Arthur Morgan x reader word count: 2650 words warnings: spoilers for RDR2 ending, violence, Micah Bell, explicit language, major character death and subsequent resurrection, brief mentions of domestic violence YOU DONT NEED TO HAVE READ THE BLACK BADGE TO UNDERSTAND THIS SERIES, EVERYTHING IS EXPLAINED DURING THE STORY authors note: What's that, you say? You want a RDR x Black Badge crossover?? No??? WELL IM DOIN IT ANYWAY

The series that no one asked for tbh. If you haven't heard of the Black Badge, it's a wonderful series of books by Rhett C Bruno and Jamie Castle, where the audiobooks are narrated by Roger Clarke. This series puts Arthur in the shoes of the protagonist, who is doomed to hunt the supernatural to pay off his karmic debts. The prologue explains it a little better, so sit back and enjoy! There will be romance, there will be monsters, what more could you ask for?

BLACK BADGE ORIGNAL SERIES

PROLOGUE

I have seen so many incredible things.

Living on the land for as long as I have, you tend to. I’ve camped under the most breathtaking sunrises, that big orange orb scattering unimaginable colours over our poor souls as it creeps over the horizon. I've seen nature at its finest: baby deer learning to walk, wolves running together in tight packs not unlike us outlaws, even saw a little chick hatching once. Beautiful women from all around batting their long lashes at me, not even all of them because I was a prospective customer. I’ve been a lucky man, to have experienced so many sights.

Never did I think that the last thing I saw living on this Earth would be Micah Bell’s goddamn ugly mug.

The barrel of his gun was shaking in his tight grip, and I used the absolute last of my strength to keep my head up and look right down it.

“You’re not better than me, Morgan.”

Never claimed to be, but if I had more time, I might have argued it, the rat. But that was the thing… I didn’t have more time. I could tell, the simple act of breathing was becoming just too much. I might have gotten a few more days, if Micah hadn’t just knocked the seven bells of shit out of me and the last few days had been a little calmer, but such is life. Such is death, I should say.

After a wheezed cough was pushed out of me, I still managed to get one last jab in, as laboured and choked out as it was,

“Whatever you say, you fool.”

Everything hurt, and I could hear the clock ticking my final seconds out as Micah’s finger trembled on the trigger. He was mad, I could see the fury spreading across his face as he registered what I was choosing to do with my final words.

Maybe it was supposed to be the time for prayers, the time to have my life flash before my eyes while I count my regrets and mourn the things that will never happen, but there’d been enough of that ever since that doc told me my days were numbered. I hadn’t lived a good life, I wasn’t a good man, but I got some peace knowing my final hours were spent getting Marston and his family out safe, making sure Milton didn’t, and insulting the gang’s little pet rodent. If I had any regrets in that moment, they would only be that I didn’t manage any more permanent damage to Micah’s ugly ass mug before he got me. Actually, I might’ve wanted to die at dawn, to see one last sunrise, but mostly the Micah thing.

“Damn you…” he spat, the glow of the moon casting the most horrendous shadows from his twisted expression.

“Damn us both!”

And that was it.

A shot,

and it was all over.

No sunrise, no grand redemption in the last few minutes of my damned life…

Just me, the moon, and goddamned Micah Bell.

═══════☆═══════

I never expected I’d get into Heaven, but I never thought it’d be so goddamn dark down here in Hell.

I stirred as if waking up from a fitful sleep filled with nightmares involving Micah shooting me in the face, and even though my eyelids flew open, there was no light to speak of. There was a crushing weight on my chest, and a burning behind my right eye. What felt like dirt fell into my face with each little movement, and suddenly it all fit together, forming a terrifying reality of my predicament.

It wasn’t a dream. Micah fuckin’ Bell had shot me. Tuberculosis ran ragged through my veins and filled my lungs, I’d been captured, hung in an O’Driscoll camp and tortured for information, hell, I’d been shipped off to goddamn Guarma with nothing but the shirt of my back… and in the end the sorry sight to end my story was a rat with a revolver.

The dirt fell in my eyes relentlessly, so much so I had to close them again. It wasn’t like they were being much use anyway, what with me being buried alive and all. Moving my limbs was hard, but not impossible, I found, giving me hope that I wasn’t too far down in the ground. I never thought I’d hope for a shallow grave, but then again I couldn’t have predicted waking up in one either. None of it made much sense, but I reckoned it’d probably be best if I got back out into open air before figuring out why I couldn’t feel my toes, why breathing felt so strange and unnecessary, or how I’d survived a gunshot to the head.

I started with small movements, flexing my numbed fingers in and out until there was enough room to ball them into fists. I would have shouted for help, if I could, but I knew all I’ll get from it is a mouthful of dirt. I’d have to do this alone, it would seem.

The movement spread from fists to arms, the dirt starting to mould around me until it didn’t feel so crushing anymore, and I was soon clawing upwards. I dared to squint one eye open, finding small holes of light poked through the blanket of nothingness like stars. I felt triumphant when I reached upwards into open air, but it was short lived when I failed to feel the wind or the breeze or the sun or anything to let me know this wasn’t all some death dream.

I pressed on, scraping at the skies until big patches of the Earth fell apart around my body and I could pull myself out of my grave. The sun beat so brightly that I couldn’t help but continue to squint, trying to make out my surroundings. It was dawn, ironically. I always assumed Hell’s skies would hold a lot more fire in them, but the blue hues and yellow rays were anything but hellish. They were beautiful, a sight I was sure I’d never see again.

After my eyes adjusted, I made out the tombstone standing above my grave, a handcrafted wooden cross with my name scratched into the centre. Folk aren’t usually lucky enough (or unlucky enough, I hadn’t yet decided) to see their own graves, and yet here I was. Why? Was this truly Hell, looking over the sunrise while I was damned to sit by my own grave and wait for no-one to mourn me?

‘Blessed Are Those Who Mourn, For They Will Be Comforted’

It was my epitaph, carved into the circle surrounding my name. I hoped it was true. I didn’t know how long I’d been buried, but I didn’t want anyone sitting around crying over me. I hoped I’d done enough, in those last few hours, and that the ones I loved, whoever was left of them, anyway, made it out okay.

I pushed myself up out of the grave, dusting off the mud that clung to me and standing straight despite the complaints of my aching back. I looked over the hill, over what looked an awful lot like Ambarino.

“Beautiful, ain’t it? I tell you, that friend of yours picked a good spot. Shame you’ll get no rest here.”

I froze, my spine straightening on instinct as the voice behind me confirmed that I was in fact in Hell. Even after looking Death in the face and calling him a fool, it still took me a moment to turn and face my father.

I expected anger to course through my veins, for my fists to ball and fury to burn over my skin the first time I saw him after all these years, but it didn’t. I looked my Daddy straight in his cold, dead eyes, and nodded to him. He did the same.

“Pa?”

“Fraid so.”

I was almost too dumbfounded to realise what he was sitting on. Who he was sitting on, I should say. Boadicea stood as tall and as beautiful as that last day we spent together in Blackwater. The sight could have taken my breath away, if I had any.

I wanted to step closer, to pat my girl on the neck and feel to make sure she was really there, but I wasn’t ready to move just yet.

“What… What the hells goin’ on?”

Daddy dearest chuckled, probably at my ironic choice of wording, and Boadicea stomped a foot on the ground. Despite everything, all I wanted to do was to get Lyle Morgan off my horse, but there’d be time for it.

“You’re dead, son. Nasty shot to the head, though you put up a good fight.” He said it like he was recounting the most mundane story ever told, not breaking the news that his only son had died. I considered his words, finding a strange peace with them all.

“...This Hell?” It had to be, right? There’s no other way he could be here, not with the way he treated me and Ma. I dreaded to think what Boadicea could have done to deserve an afterlife with him, but it made more sense than both of us fools being let into the pearly gates upstairs everyone always goes on about.

Pa chuckled again, clearly finding my demise much more casual news than I, “To some, but not in the way you’re thinkin’ of it. I’ve got some bad news, boy.”

“Worse than my death?” It was annoying me, how elusive and blasé he was being about everything, dragging this out for longer than he needed while holding the cards right up close to his chest. He knew what was going on, and yet there he was, sitting on Boadicea like he owned whatever goddamn realm we were in. Surely this was Hell, having this conversation with the man who beat me into who I am today. Who I was, before karma caught up with me and shot me in the face.

“Depends on how much you were lookin’ forward to it.”

My teeth ground together as the frustration at his evasiveness built. He must’ve sensed it, as he dismounted Boadicea and patted her on the neck. It threw me more than it should, watching the man I’d left long behind me interacting with my beloved Boa.

He stood just as tall as the day I watched him hang, the only difference being a nasty scar that wound around his neck and made me dread to think what I might look like. It was like looking at a ghost. Well, I guess I was looking at a ghost.

“You’re still here, Arthur. On Earth. Seems you did just enough good there in the end that they didn’t know what to do with you. Too bad to make it to the upstairs, too good to burn in Hell… for now.”

“Earth? But… I’m… we’re-“

“Dead? Yeah. But you’re stuck here, doin’ their bidding.”

He was running his fingers over Boadicea’s mane, and she shook her head in response. She seemed like she wanted his hands off her as much as I did, but I had to find out what was going on first.

“Bidding? Who’s bidding? Can you just be straight with me for one damn minute-“

“Patience, boy.” He snapped, bringing out one of Boadicea’s signature annoyed huffs, “The White Throne’s bidding. You’re theirs now. You do as they say, or you end up in a far worse position than you’re in now.”

I felt like I needed to sit down, but unless I was going to climb back in that grave, there was nowhere to rest.

“I… I don’t understand.”

Lyle sighed, turning fully towards me and hooking his thumbs in his belt loops.

“The White Throne have chosen you to be a Black Badge, Arthur. You’re not alive, nor are you fully dead. You work for them until they decide they’re done with you, and then…”

“And then?”

“Well… I ain’t sure, truth be told, boy. I never got as far as you, I’m just here to pass the message on.”

None of it made any sense, and I had no idea who this White Throne was. Dad didn’t seem to have the answers, nor did he seem inclined to give them to me even if he did. It was then I noticed that my heart should be pounding out of my chest. Instead, it felt hollow, the anxiety of my situation bouncing around an empty can of nothing.

So this was really happening…

“They’ll call on you when they need you with this,” he turned, rummaging through Boadicea’s saddle bag and handing me a journal. It looked exactly like the one I gave to Marston just before I died, the one I collected my thoughts and sketches in, only when I flicked through the pages, they were all blank.

“Keep an eye on it, it’ll tell you what you need to do, who to look for, or where to go.”

“What am I, a goddamn undead bounty hunter?”

He laughed, a proper hearty laugh that would’ve made my skin crawl had I not been so occupied with the confusion of it all.

“You could say that. But you’re not just after anyone, they’ll send you off to the supernatural stuff. Vampires, werewolves, demons, that sort. You’ll get the hang of it.”

I was so stuck on the whole supernatural thing that I hardly noticed him step towards me, slapping a hand onto my shoulder. I froze, but not because my father had touched me for the first time in decades, but because I couldn’t feel a damn thing.

He must’ve seen the shock on my face, cause his brows pulled together in a pitiful look, “Ah, yeah… there’s some side effects to death, son. But I’m sure you’ll figure that one out.”

‘Side effects’ was a light way of putting it. I’d later find out that we unlucky few in the Black Badge have a fair few impediments. I can’t feel. Not the sun on my face, the wind in my hair, the touch of another, not even the burn of a good whiskey. I don’t feel pain, which can be helpful at times I guess. I can’t taste anything, either. It’s a unique punishment, to be stuck walking the earth but not really living, having no access to those simple pleasures in life like a stiff drink or the touch of a pretty lady. If I’d have known what was waiting for me at the end of all this, well… maybe I’d have made some different choices.

“It’s a lot to take in, I know.”

I glanced to my shoulder, finding Dad’s hand still there. He must’ve sensed my discomfort, removing his touch- or lack thereof- from me.

“You’ll get the hang of it, son.”

If I weren’t so preoccupied with my new lot in life (or death, I should say), now would have been the perfect time to confront the man who stood beside me. Ask him why he did what he did, get some answers for every question my teenage self tortured himself with while he wandered the streets for somewhere to stay for the night. But when I turned, he was gone, without a single trace to suggest he was ever there in the first place. Seems I’d gotten all the information out of him I was entitled to.

That left me and Boadicea, standing beside an empty grave I wasn’t sure anyone would have visited anyway.

I sighed, finally stepping towards her and patting her neck in that spot she always loved.

“Well girl, guess this is it for a while…”

I looked down to the journal in my hand, just in time to see inky black writing appear on the page as if bleeding through the realms.

‘Welcome to the Black Badge, Arthur Morgan.’

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redepmtion 2 #black badge #roger clarke #tmots

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