#( &. verse. scratchings in my head. ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fatalhoon · 4 months ago

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caught in my web ! - sjy

spiderman!jake x best friend!reader

wc ~6k

cw fluff!! swearing, one cum joke LOL, jake is a big nervous dork and reader is a little dumb lmaoo, i think that’s all!

an i wrote this and posted it on my sideblog for a different fandom but i thought it was cute so i wanted to redo it for jake a post it here too :>

—🕷️🕸️🕷️—

when he first discovered that such a simple and seemingly harmless spider bite had such irreversible effects on him, jake, to put it bluntly, was petrified.

even from the moment the spider bit him, for all he knew he could soon be literally petrified by the way the bite was making his arm feel weird already, and though he can’t say he’s necessarily well versed in arachnids, that was not a spider he’d ever seen before.

he knew most likely it was just paranoia, but his brain was swirling with worst case scenarios.

nonetheless, it was very late at night and a college student such as himself did not have the money nor the means for an emergency room visit, so he decided to attempt to sleep it off, and if it seemed to be worse in the morning he’d see what he could do.

well, maybe that’s an oversimplification of events.

he’d called you, practically hyperventilating and saying his goodbyes, scaring you shitless as well for a good minute before you’d finally pried out of him what had happened.

luckily, entomology was something you were actually studying, and you had enough knowledge of various spiders and the effects of certain venom that when you arrived at his apartment (for his own peace of mind and yours) you were able to calm him enough to the point that planning his own funeral was no longer at the forefront of his mind.

with the strange spider safely captured in a small jar (as afraid as he was, he couldn’t bring himself to kill it) he felt a little better even just from your calming presence.

(“jake, why did you put a piece of cheese in there?” “i wanted to be hospitable.” “..cheese.” “i don’t know what spiders eat!”)

you spent the night on his couch that night as well (he hadn’t asked, but you knew if you left he might start typing up a will) so you were able to keep an eye on him.

the next morning jake wakes up feeling fine, albeit a bit groggy. he flops out of bed, and he rubs the sleep from his eyes as he wanders across the hall to the bathroom.

grabbing his glasses and sliding them on, he looks down at the spot on his arm that he’d been scratching at to check it’s status.

but its.. blurry?

he blinks a few times to focus his vision, but nothing changes.

its not until his hand pushes his glasses up to rub at his face and he gets a view without a lens that he realizes that its actually his glasses that are the issue. he moves them out of the way, and to his shock he can see completely clearly without them.

he lifts them up to sit on his head, looking at himself in the mirror, absolutely dumbfounded.

“what.. the fuck?”

“jake?”

he jumps, banging his knee on the counter.

“jesus! sorry,�� you chuckle, hands up. “not a spider!”

“har har,” jake mocks, massaging his leg, a cute pout on his face.

you step into the bathroom, reaching up to adjust his glasses that had fallen from the crown of his head to the tip of his nose. he squints, rubbing at his temple.

“you.. okay?” you venture, watching him blink hard a few times.

“yeah! uh-“ more blinks, eyes wide- “i’m good.” a fake smile. its your turn to squint, not quite believing him.

you see him instinctively clenching his fist, shaking out his arm a little. you grab it and drag him forward a little to examine the splotch on his forearm.

“mm.” you hum. you brush your fingers along the bump, making a shiver roll up jake’s spine. he watches you over the rim of his glasses.

“its a little red, but it looks okay. i don’t think it was poisonous.”

“great! uh- cool, that’s good news,” jake bumbles, an awkward smile on his face.

he stares at you.

you stare at him.

your face is blurry.

he adjusts his glasses.

“right..”

he gulps.

“well. i have a lecture soon, so i should get going.” you give his arm a little pat and release it from your fingers. he nods, scratching at it absentmindedly again.

“still on for movie night later?”

jake answers without thinking through it.

“of course.” shit.

you grin at him. “great.” shit shit shit.

but the twinkle in your eyes and the way your fingers ruffle through his messy hair makes his heart flutter less with anxiety and more with something.. warmer.

you turn and round the hallway corner and jake lets out a tense breath he didn’t know he was holding. he knocks into a small table from his lack of clear sight as he follows you, and swiftly blames it on lack of sleep when you quirk a brow at him.

a minute later you’ve gathered your things from the living room, the bottled spider included to take to your class to be studied, and give him a wave as you walk out his front door.

“see you tonight, spider man.”

jake takes off his glasses once the door is closed behind you, sighing heavily and rubbing a hand down the side of his face. he swipes his thumb across his forearm, your touch lingering in his mind.

“spider man.” he scoffs, but he can’t help the fond smile that turns up his lips.

—🕷️🕸️🕷️—

“where are your glasses?”

“i got contacts.” jake lies through his teeth.

“today?” you question incredulously.

“… yeah.”

you clearly don’t believe him, if the way your brow furrows is anything to go by. you’d seen him just a few hours ago.

“is it because i always call you a nerd? you know i mean that affectionately, right?” jake hears the hint of guilt in your voice and panics.

“no! yeah i uh, i do- i just-“ he trails off. he isn’t sure where else to go with this. you catch the awkwardness, watching as he scratches the back of his neck, and decide to let it go before he starts sweating.

“well, if you can’t see the screen don’t ask me what happened,” you joke, lightening the mood to jake’s relief. you set down the snacks you brought and plop down on the couch, propping your feet on the coffee table, remote in hand.

jake relaxes in his spot next to you, ripping open a bag of chips. “you’d probably be asleep even if i did.” you roll your eyes and smack his arm. jake lets out a laugh.

fourty five minutes later, jake does have to ask a question about the movie you’re watching (but not because he couldn’t see, he’s just been daydreaming for most of it.)

and lo and behold, you are asleep, so he’s left to wonder.

jake starts to reach for his soda on the table in front of him, but you, wrapped around his right arm and sleeping comfortably, tighten your grip when you feel him start to move.

he moves just the left side of his body forward, ever so slowly, wiggling his fingers as he strains to grab his drink without disturbing you.

but suddenly, something knocks into the can, denting the side and sending it falling over with a tinny clank against the wood. liquid spills from the opening and dribbles over the side and onto the floor.

“how the-“

“shhh,”

he freezes, looking down at you. you pull him back again, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. your cheek presses up against his sleeve, smushing up your face and jakes’s heart almost explodes. he reaches up gently, pushing a tuft of hair away from your face, and you hum happily.

jake thinks for a second that maybe a stain on his carpet is worth it if he can stay like this forever.

something stuck to his wrist catches his attention.

its a strand of web.

jake yelps before he can catch himself, frantically flicking his arm to detach it and startles you fully awake in the process. you let out a similar yelp in practically the same octave as his was, jumping up and clutching tighter onto his bicep.

“what!! what happened?” you squeak.

he doesn’t answer, just continues his task of brushing off every square inch of his body to rid himself of any potential dangers. when he deems himself safe, he looks over at you, and is met with crossed arms and a disgruntled look.

“sorry! sorry,” jake huffs apologetically. he clears his throat, his face flushing red from embarrassment as he explains, “spider web.”

you chuckle incredulously, rubbing your eyes and letting out a yawn. “spider web,” you giggle through a playful smirk. you stand, stretching your limbs, and hobble in the direction the bathroom.

“try not to die out here without me, alright?” you quip as turn the corner.

jake groans. he gets up himself to grab a towel from the kitchen, coming back to crouch down and sop up the mess still dripping from the table.

he picks up the can and tries to set it back on the table top, but it sticks to his hand. even when he uncurls all five fingers from it, its still stuck snugly to his palm. he uses his other hand to grab it and pry it away, and it detaches with a sticky snap, leaving multiple strands of web connecting his skin to the tin.

“jesus christ,” he gripes, watching the web strands flutter under his breath.

“oh, there really was a spider web,” it’s jake’s turn to startle, jumping a bit as he sees you crouched down right beside him, observing the wiggly webs.

jake gives you an indignant look, one that reads ‘did you think i was lying?’

“honestly i just though you were being paranoid.” jake rolls his eyes, nudging you with his shoulder.

“sorry! not my fault you’re a scaredy cat!”

“i am not!” he defends, pressing the towel further down into the carpet plush.

you glide your fingers up the back of jake’s neck in a gentle tickle, and right on cue he lets out a little ‘eek!’, slapping your hand away. he pushes you softly and you giggle, falling back from your crouched stance on your toes and onto your butt. you hug your legs, resting your chin on your knee as you watch him continue to dry up the mess.

“they probably just like you. i know i do.” you drop a little hint at the end. he never seems to catch on.

“they can like me all they want, just far away from me please.” he grumbles, taking the can to the kitchen to toss it in the trash.

“spiders are friends!~” he hears you sing from the other room.

he drops the can into the bin, hoping this is the last of his spider related worries.

—🕷️🕸️🕷️—

jake never thought he would ever be friends with spiders. let alone be one.

it took him a while to realize that the spider bite had caused him more trouble than just a slight fear of the nooks and crannies of his apartment. much more trouble.

he discovered that it was him creating the webs he was finding around when he dropped his pen once while writing out some notes for a class, and when he tried to grab it before it hit the ground, he’d caught it with a collection of web strands that shot out of his wrist instead.

he discovered how strong his webs were when he tripped on the staircase while running late one day, spurting out a web that stuck to the wall and caught him, and tugged him upright before he hit the ground.

and he discovered how useful this strange new talent could be outside your apartment.

“so, any news about that spider? you brought it in to study it, right?” jake asks as nonchalantly as he possibly can, walking down the concrete steps beside you.

“oh, actually yes! we think it might be a-“

suddenly a hooded figure runs by, snatching your backpack from right off your shoulders, and sprinting down the sidewalk through a dense crowd of pedestrians.

the stranger nearly knocked you to the ground with the push-and-shove of stealing your belongings. jake caught you, steadied you on your feet, and booked it after him without even thinking twice, leaving your confused cries to stop behind him.

his speed and reflexes seemed to be heightened as he caught up in a few seconds flat, and in a fraction of that time he had a web wrapped around the strap of your bag, pulling it directly into his chest to wrap his arms around, and a leg out to sweep the thief’s legs straight out from under him, sending him face first into the pavement.

jake stands motionless for a second, energy rushing through his veins, and waits for his brain to process what had just happened. when it does, it feels like he’d just returned to his own body from somewhere completely different.

you caught up to jake after a moment, heaving heavily from your tired lungs. your eyes widen at the scene in front of you; a completely unscathed jake and a nearly unconscious criminal bleeding from the nose below.

“how did-“ you struggle for a full breath. “how did you do that?”

“uhm- adrenaline, i think?” honestly, jake isn’t quite sure how he did this either.

“jake, you could have gotten hurt!” you scold him, trying your best to sound steady and serious, but by the way your hands tremble it tells him you were more worried for his safety than anything else.

“i wasn’t gonna stand there and do nothing,” he says like its the most obvious thing in the world. he settles your bag back on your shoulders, looping your arms through the straps for you and adjusting the fabric of your sleeves. your eyes gloss over and you’re gnawing at your lip like you’re trying your best not to cry.

“your laptop is expensive. we can’t have you lose that,” he jokes, attempting to lighten the mood.

you let out a trembling laugh, and yank him in to hug him with a full crushing force. “you’re such an idiot,” you whine, and he returns the hug with a chuckle of his own.

jake isn’t sure how he did this or what exactly is going on, but what he is sure about is that whatever is happening to him, using it to protect you will always be his first priority.

—🕸️🕷️🕸️—

the idea to become a “hero” of sorts struck jake one day like a bolt of lightning.

the notion sounds absolutely crazy, jake knows that, but the circumstances have fallen directly into his lap, and he knows that if he has the ability, the real ability to protect people, he should take it.

he practices his web slinging in private, and he’s gotten quite good at it; he now can do it on command instead of at random, and can control it when he needs to.

(and yes, he’s made all of the jokes, even if he’s the only person around to laugh. he can shoot sticky white goo from his wrists, did you expect him not to be a little silly with it?)

he practices his dexterity in the air out in an old alley that no one has any reason to frequent. in doing so, his muscles have bulked up significantly, and he was flustered beyond belief when you of all people were the one the pointed it out.

he told himself that if he was going to be this new face of justice, he should protect his identity and keep it separate from his personal life. he didn’t want anyone he knew and loved getting involved; if someone got hurt because of him he wouldn’t be able to bare it.

so he made a few suit prototypes from old clothes and acrylic paint. he may not be the craftiest, but he made do, and he learned some sewing basics in the process, though you really wouldn’t be able to tell. (in the end he commissioned someone to make one for him anyway, for the sake of quality.)

the last thing he really needed came to him after he’d successfully helped a woman with an issue involving a man following her down the street late one night. after making sure the woman was safe enough to leave, he attaches his web to a fire escape and is about to swing away.

“what do i call you?” she yells out from below him as he hangs from the rail.

he thinks for a second. web boy? no, that’s dumb. arachnid kid? a little silly, he likes that it rhymes, but it still doesn’t feel right.

and then it hits him.

“spiderman.”

he swings away, and within the next few weeks, ‘spiderman’ is everything that people are talking about.

you included.

“have you seen him?” you ask him excitedly, rocking back and forth on your heels as you both stand in line at your favorite ice cream shop. “he’s so cool!”

he chuckles a little. “i’ve heard of him.” a blush creeps up on his face he hopes you don’t see, but you’re too excited to even notice. “cool, huh?”

“so cool!” you thank the worker for your milkshakes and leave the small shop, the bell above the door jingling as you step outside. “i want to talk to him so bad, i bet he’s so interesting, and he’s probably so cute under the mask,” you daydream out loud as you walk down the sidewalk.

jake coughs a bit in surprise. “what makes you think that?”

“don’t be jealous,” you poke, a smirk on your face. “just a hunch.”

in a split second you’re suddenly yanked to the edge of the sidewalk by jake as you’re about to step onto the crosswalk. before you can comprehend why, someone comes barreling through on a bicycle, shouting a faint ‘sorry!’ as they whiz by, the wind fluttering your hair. your milkshake slips from your fingers, a small gasp leaving your lips, and jake grabs it before it can splatter across the ground, placing it back in your hand for you.

“you okay?” he asks, brushing off your jacket. you don’t answer, still staring off in the direction the bike went in shock. as soon as everything catches up to you, you look at him, eyes wide. “that was insane! when did you get such crazy reflexes?”

“what do you mean?” jake sweats a little. “didn’t you hear him coming?”

you shake your head. “no that’s not it, you did that so fast, and my drink-“

“i think- i think you were just caught off guard,” he excuses, ushering you forward to keep walking.

“so um. you were talking about spiderman?”

—🕷️🕸️🕷️—

and talk about spiderman you did.

specifically, you talk about how you would love to meet him, to speak to him.

so, who would jake be to keep that from you when he is the one you want to meet?

well unfortunately, it wasn’t his choice.

(how was he supposed to go about that? knock on your door and say “hello random citizen, i’m spiderman! your best friend jake who i totally don’t know and definitely am not the same person as said you wanted to talk to me”?)

no, in reality, it was a total accident.

he finds himself crash landing onto the roof of your apartment building after a particularly brutal fight he’d gotten himself tied up in, his fatigue and pain not letting him swing any longer to make it all the way back home. he groans loudly, cradling his leg in his arms as he lays on the cold roof in the fetal position.

“spiderman??”

fuck. he knows that voice.

he lifts his head up in the direction it came from, seeing your head pop up over the ledge of the building. before he can say anything, you scramble up from the fire escape and run over to his side.

‘great,’ jake thinks. this is the second worst byproduct of you having a top floor apartment. (he still remembers how sore he was after having to help you drag your mattress up several flights of stairs when you moved in.)

“are you okay?”

“i’m fine, i’m good, i just-“ he attempts to stand on his own, but groans again, and crumples under his own weight. its your turn to catch him before he falls.

“oh god, um, i can help! just- here-“ you sling his arm around your shoulder and huddle into his side, and you help him hobble to the edge. he clambers down the fire escape, using his webs to keep him relatively stable, and fumbles through the window and onto the floor of your apartment. he hits the floor with a thud and a moan.

“sorry! um, i’ll get my first aid kit! i’ll be back!”

you leave and come back in a blind hurry, making quick work of rolling up the torn part of his suit to get a clear enough view of the gash in his leg to start your process. it hurts at first, a lot actually, but the pain subsides not long after. maybe because its you doing it, and he trusts you more than anyone, but he feels so much love and care in your movements.

he lets you focus in quiet for a while before he finally decides to say something.

“for someone who studies bugs and not medicine, you’re pretty good at that.”

you raise your eyebrows at him, wrapping a bandage around his calf. “how do you know i study bugs?”

shit. “just a hunch.”

you glance at him, not convinced.

“the pinned butterflies on your wall.”

“ah,” you say, nodding.

whew.

“maybe i just like butterflies.”

“that could be it too.” he chuckles under the mask. “i mean they’re pretty. like you. so it makes sense.”

you blush, a smile tugging at your lips. “smooth.”

“thanks, i know,” jake drawls, leaning to suavely rest on his elbow next to him, and hits his head on a table. “ow.” you both laugh.

when you finally get him patched up, he thanks you (he almost leans in for a hug on accident, but settles for a firm handshake instead) and climbs over the windowsill in preparation to take his leave.

“hey, can i ask you something?”

jake’s heart pounds. “sure.”

“can you.. come back sometime?” you twist your fingers nervously as you ask, avoiding his eyes. “i always wanted to talk to you but, this wasn’t really.. under the best circumstances, i guess.”

jake’s brain doesnt know if he should say yes, but his heart knows he could never say no to you, spiderman or otherwise.

“of course.” your smile makes it worth it.

he slings a web up onto a bar of the fire escape and flings himself out.

“wait!”

he turns back, glancing back down at you leaning out the windowsill, the chilled wind fluttering your hair.

“i don’t just like butterflies. i like spiders, too.”

jake grins.

“i didn’t used to like spiders. but i think they’re growing on me.”

and with that, he swings away.

—🕸️🕷️🕸️—

despite his better judgement, jake does come back. more than once.

he knows he shouldn’t appear as spiderman in front of you more than he needs to, but it just makes you so happy, it was physically impossible for him not to when he knows he’s the reason for your smile every time.

he sits with you now on the roof of your apartment, the same place you found him the first time, and the same place you two always meet now.

“-and that’s the story of how i met my best friend jake.” you finish your story, face flushed from laughing, and he’s forever grateful you can’t see his face under his mask. if he’s being honest (having lived through that torture with you) you actually told it way less embarrassing than he remembers it being. whether you perceive it less humiliating than he does or if you’re just gracious enough not to go into detail with strangers he’s not sure, but he’s thankful nonetheless.

“seems like you really care about him.”

“jake?” you ask, leaning back to rest on the heels of your hands. “well, yeah. he’s my favorite person in the whole world. don’t you feel that way about your best friend, too?”

jake feels his face heat up. “yeah, um. you pretty much took the words right out of my mouth.”

“yeah? tell me about them. what’s their name?”

“hey, whoa” jake lifts his hands in defense. “ask me about my favorite ninja turtle all day, but i can’t be giving out my best friend’s identity. why do you think i wear the mask?”

you laugh, nodding in understanding. “okay, okay, fair.”

a comfortable silence falls for a moment, and jake watches you gaze at the stars above the city lights.

“you remind me of him, you know.”

“huh?” jake snaps back into the present.

“jake. you guys seem really similar, honestly. same mannerisms, same cologne-“ you know the smell of his cologne? “you say things sometimes that i definitely think he would say. same favorite ninja turtle, too.”

he never really realized you paid this much attention to him. his heart flutters.

“ehh, i don’t know. guy sounds like a total nerd.”

you snort out a laugh. “oh he is,” ouch?? “but he’s my nerd. i love him just how he is. i wouldn’t change a single thing about him.”

“.. you love him?”

another silence. this one a little more.. tense.

“i love all my friends, but jake is.. different.”

“different how?”

“i’m not in love with my other friends.”

jake’s brain nearly short circuits right then and there. how he gets a single comprehensible sentence out of his mouth after that is honestly beyond him. but he’s not jake right now, he’s spiderman.

“i’m in love with my best friend too.”

“really?” you look at him, a sense of hope in your eyes, like you just found the only other person in the world in the same position as you. if you only knew.

“this,” he motions to his suit, and in turn the whole act of being spiderman at all. “its for them. i help everyone i can, of course, but,” he seems to be lost in thought for a second, drumming his fingers on his knee. “like you said, they’re different. i’d do anything for them. anything at all.”

you tilt your head at him. “wow, who knew a superhero could be so sappy.”

“yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand dismissively. “my bad, gotta protect my stone cold image.” you huff out a laugh.

“have you told them?”

“no.”

“why?”

“same reason as you, i’m guessing.”

“fear?”

“fear.”

a knowing look is passed between you.

“my best friend doesn’t actually know i’m spiderman.”

“wait really?” you ask, surprised. “why not?”

“how am i supposed to tell them that? ‘hey by the way i’m risking my life every day for you!’ that seems like a horrible conversation.”

you chuckle. “yeah, i get that. i suppose its similar to the reason you haven’t confessed. the fear of rejection is present either way.”

“exactly,” he sighs.

after a second, a light bulb seems to come on above your head. “hey, i’ve got an idea. you tell your best friend you’re spiderman, and i’ll tell my best friend i’m in love with him.”

“that’s a terrible idea,” jake admits through a chuckle.

“is it?” you feign indignant. “if they love us, they’ll accept us, right?”

jake thinks it over for a second, his heart racing so fast he hopes you can’t hear it.

“okay. deal.”

you grin. “perfect.”

how the hell is he gonna do that?

“jake should actually be on his way, i’ll call him to make sure.”

shit. shit. he forgot about movie night.

you pull out your phone, tapping quickly to find his contact and press your phone to your ear. jake panics, pulling his phone from his suit just as it starts to ring, and presses end as soon as he can reach the button.

you give him a puzzled look, and he huffs nervously. “sorry, scam calls.” he shoves his phone into his suit before you can see it.

“hm. it went straight to voicemail. that’s odd,” you muse, glancing at the ‘call ended’ screen.

“maybe he’s driving. yknow, gotta stay safe,” he bumbles, nerves flooding his system as he stands up and dusts off the back of his legs. “hey listen, its been great, but i just remembered i have to go-“

“wait, wait!” you jump up as well, grabbing onto his gloved hand. “can you stay for just a minute? i think jake would really love to meet you!”

“i really uh- its- its important- i should-“

“it’ll just be a second! i promise! don’t move!” you plead. you give his hand a squeeze, and before jake can stop you, you hop down the fire escape and scurry back into your apartment.

—🕷️🕸️🕷️—

jake is fucked. absolutely fucked.

as soon as he sees you disappear into your apartment to wait for, well, him, he slings himself down to an alley to ‘jake’ himself up.

luckily, he has spare clothes stored across the city in case of emergencies like this. he stuffs his hand through a hole in the bricks of an abandoned building and pulls out a backpack, and as quickly as he possibly can, he pulls his clothes on over his suit, shoves his mask in and zips it up. he ruffles his messy hair in an attempt to seem a more presentable type of messy, and sprints out into the street.

now trekking up the stairs toward your apartment door, he thinks there wasn’t even really a logical reason to do this. he could have just told you right then that it was him, but something inside him told him that wasn’t the right time or place.

stopping in front of your door, he prepares himself, catching his breath before he knocks.

you swing it open immediately, a huge smile on your face.

“jake! i have something to show- why are you so sweaty?”

“i uh- i was running late so i ran.” he fumbles for an excuse. he walks in and is about to kick off his shoes when you grab his arm, dragging him across the living room to your window.

“come with me first! i have something to show you!” you say, brimming with excitement.

“hold on- i need to-“

“hurry!” you squeal, and hop out the window to climb the ladder. jake internally groans, following after you.

he grabs the rungs and hoists himself up behind you. “can i tell you something first?” he calls upwards. “its important!”

“this is important too! he has to be somewhere!”

oh, so now you listen to that information.

when his head pops up above the ladder to see the expanse of the rooftop, you’re already looking around, confused.

“where did he-“

“why are we up here?”

“i’m looking for someone! he said he would stay for a second,” you whine.

he never actually agreed to that, but he’ll let it slide.

you grip the barrier of the roof and pull yourself up to stand on the ledge, putting your arms out to steady yourself as you survey the area.

“what are you doing!” jake shouts, running up to you and grabbing your waist to prevent you from falling. “you have terrible balance!”

“relax, i’m fine. maybe if i fall he’ll come back to swoop in and save me.”

and as if the universe took that as some sort of sick challenge, a huge gust of wind blows through, knocking your balance off. you tilt forward with a strained yelp, flailing your arms. jake tries to grip your belt loops but they slip from his fingers, and he lets out an exasperated yell.

bracing yourself for a horrendous fall, you let out a scream, squeezing your eyes shut.

but it never comes.

you’re suspended in the air, but there’s no rushing air, no sinking feeling in your gut, everything just.. stopped.

you pop an eye open, met with the rough red texture of the brick in front of you. you follow your arm that’s outstretched above you upward, expecting somehow to see jake’s grip wrapped around your wrist, but instead you see a bracelet of weaved white. you lock eyes with him, a terribly worried expression on his face, the same white around your wrist attached to the underside of his.

for the first time, it all clicks together.

the webs in his apartment. the way they have the same voice, same habits. the way the spider on the suit is jake’s favorite color. his change in demeanor these past few weeks. jake having a limp from the same leg spiderman had injured around the same time.

it all finally makes sense.

“you-.. you’re-..”

“surprise,” jake whispers, a small, guilty smile on his face.

“can you. pull me up, please?” you tremble.

“oh! yeah, sorry.” jake brings you in with ease, grabbing firmly onto your body until you’re sat on your knees on the safety of the roof. you lunge forward, trapping jake in a bone crushing hug. he feels that you’re still shaking, and wraps himself around you with equal fervor, holding your head to his shoulder and stroking your hair to soothe you.

how could you have been so stupid? so clueless? you had every single piece of the puzzle, yet you were so blind to the placements.

it hits you then, that you had confessed to him without knowing it.

jake pulls you back and holds onto your shoulders, scanning you for any injuries. “are you okay?”

when he locks eyes with you, he sees how flustered you look, the blush on your face, and he has to bite back a smile.

“well, this is a little awkward,” he chuckles.

“you’re such an idiot,” you scoff, a common phrase nowadays it seems, but he hears no real weight in your words.

“i should have known. no ones favorite ninja turtle is leonardo except yours.”

“don’t bring my boy into this.”

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“well i think spiderman already explained that,” he says with a shit eating grin.

you roll your eyes. “yeah, he told me quite a bit, actually. some pretty gushy stuff.” jake whines nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

“big mouth on that guy, huh.”

“jake.”

“hm?”

“i have something to tell you.”

he smiles shyly. “yeah?”

you grab jake by the zipper of his jacket, pulling you together to connect your lips in a kiss. his hands immediately find your waist to pull you closer, practically falling on top of him. he tilts his head to kiss you deeper. you sigh happily in tandem.

after a second your hands find the sides of his face and you pull away, giggling at how you both can’t stop smiling and its making it hard to continue.

“i love you.”

“i love you, too.”

you run your thumb across his bottom lip, admiring the contours of his face and how his goofy grin and lidded eyes are so full of warmth.

“don’t you have something to confess to me, too?”

“i still don’t like spiders.”

“jake!” you push him back by the chest and he laughs, wrapping his arms completely around your torso.

he wiggles his fingers up your spine in a crawling motion, making you shiver and swat him away in a fit of giggles. he leans in close to your ear, and whispers-

“i’m spiderman.”

#if i had a nickel for every time i made reader fall off the edge of a building id have two nickels #which isnt a lot but its weird that it happened twice #sim jaeyun #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jake #sim jake x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #judah.doc

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bloomseishiro · 2 months ago

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A STUPID CELEBRITY CRUSH — ITOSHI RIN

౨ৎ — you should be your boyfriend’s biggest fan, right? so why did rin find your twitter logged into a fan account of another former blue lock contestant?

itoshi rin x reader. fluff, pro soccer player!rin, established relationship, rin is silly and so is reader :p, blue lock manga spoilers (ch 298 events mentioned!)

word count. 1.3k

Itoshi Rin isn’t exactly someone who is well-versed in fan culture.

He doesn’t even run his official social media accounts himself. Why would he need to when he has a manager and a team for that?

Still, he knows the basics. He’s aware there are delusional fans who think they have a chance with him. He knows about fan accounts and fan sites that post about his goals, his everyday outfits, and everything in between. While there are parasocial fans his security team has to keep an eye out for, Rin knows most fans are just there for harmless fun, though he himself doesn’t understand it.

Rin also knows he’s not the only soccer player with a large fanbase. Isagi’s following is huge, his team has informed him. Kaiser’s as well. Hell, even Bachira and Kunigami are well liked for whatever reason.

You’re someone who enjoys following the current events of soccer, Rin knows that, but it seems he never understood to what extent you were actually into it.

That is, until he walks by your computer screen and sees it opened to a blown up photo of Nagi Seishiro.

Rin blinks as he notices the face on your PC that is not his own. What the hell is that?

You aren’t at your desk—meaning you are either using the bathroom or grabbing a snack—and so he exits out of the image with a huff. You don’t need to be staring at Nagi when you return.

When he closes the screen, however, he sees the same photo as your profile picture on Twitter. he stills. There is no way that’s your personal account, or Rin would’ve noticed that atrocity of an icon you had. As he takes a closer look, he sees the display name of “NAGI’S #1 GLAZER” and scratches his head in confusion.

What the fuck is a glazer and why does it sound explicit?

Rin wants to respect your privacy, but a bigger part of him has to know what this is. Why is your computer on this account? Why is it logged in? And if this is your secret fan account, why the hell is it of Nagi and not him?

“Oh! Hey, babe,” he hears you greet from behind his back.

“What is a glazer?”

“A w-what?” you stammer nervously, rushing beside him to look at your computer.

“What’s a glazer?” repeats Rin, tone unamused.

You close your eyes in defeat, sighing as you plop down on your seat. “You saw my fan account, didn’t you?”

“It’s difficult to miss,” he retorts. “Another man’s face was blown up on your 27-inch screen.”

“I was just changing my profile picture,” you say meekly. “I wasn’t staring at it, or anything.”

Rin frowns, feeling a dull pit in his stomach. So it is your account. That means you have a fanpage of Nagi Seishiro of all people.

He stays silent, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

A few beats pass before you look up at him with wide eyes and furrowed brows. “Rin, you know the fan account is just for fun, right? As a fan of the soccer player. I don’t know Nagi as a person—only the parts the public is able to see. Like a stupid celebrity crush!”

The frown stays on his face, but the lines are less severe.

“But you,” you say, “I know the real you. And I love both what you show to the public, and what you show to only me.”

“Then why isn’t your fan account of me?” he counters, and even Rin hears the bitterness in his own voice.

You blink. “Because that’s weird. You can’t have a fan account of your boyfriend.”

“You should only have a fan account of your boyfriend,” he mutters dryly. “Why are you a fan of Nagi anyway? He didn’t even make it to the U-20 World Cup back in the day.”

At his words, your spine straightens and a pout forms on your face. “Hey! You can’t just say that. It’s too soon!”

“It’s been years!”

You sniffle, folding your arms across your chest. “Not enough years! But that is part of the reason I like him as a player so much.”

“Because he got eliminated and couldn’t keep up with the rest of us?”

“Rin!” you chastise, tears forming in the corners of your eyes much to his surprise. “Nagi got eliminated when we least expected… It seemed so hopeless for a while. I was heartbroken! But then he makes a huge comeback and becomes an even greater soccer player than before! All on his own, too. It shows he can be hardworking and dedicated, and his skill isn’t just from pure useless talent!”

After your long spiel that Rin thinks sounded just a bit delusional, he sighs. “So you like Nagi as a soccer player more than me?”

“No, of course not!” you protest, standing up from your chair and staring firmly into his eyes. “You are still my favorite soccer player. My favorite person in the world, in fact.”

His gaze softens but he still can’t help but be skeptical.

You exhale gently as you elaborate, “I’ve had that account since I was young—a high schooler watching you guys change what it means to play soccer. I’ve made lots of friends from there, some I still talk to today! It’s not all about Nagi, though we do hope he’ll become one of the world’s best players. Still, he’ll never compete with you, Rin.” With a warm smile, you pinch his cheek. “You’re always number one to me.”

“That’s not what your display name says,” he mumbles, but there is no sharpness in his voice.

Groaning, you insist, “It’s just a stupid meme name. You don’t have to worry, I promise. I don’t even know what a glazer is! I just see people using it a lot on social media lately! I have to try staying trendy with the young ones…”

Rin snorts. That does sound like something you would do.

“I’ll change it if you want,” you offer hesitantly. “I don’t want this to be something that causes issues with us—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupts.

Rin is jealous. Rin is possessive. Rin doesn’t want anyone else to be number one in your heart. But he doesn’t want to control you. You told him not to worry and offered him reassurance, and though he still wants to rip Nagi’s throat out with his bare hands, he knows he has to trust you. It’s not something that comes easy to him, but it’s something the two of you built together in your relationship. You bring out a better side of him, one that isn’t always angry and bitter and obsessed with the past.

“It sounds like a weird hobby,” he says with a huff, “but if you enjoy it, then I won’t stop you.”

You smile at his begrudging support. “It is a silly hobby, but that’s all it is. You are the one I love and the only person I obsess over in real life.”

“Good.” Rin smirks. “Then you won’t mind when I destroy Nagi’s chances of winning the world cup?”

Your eyes widen as another pout starts to settle in. “D-destroy?” you repeat mournfully.

He nods.

“I suppose if you are the one doing it,” you say, “then it’s okay. I’ll always root for whatever team you’re on.”

“As you should.”

“I always will,” you promise, sticking your pinky out.

Rin shakes his head at the childish gesture, but the smile on his lips betrays him. He interlocks his pinky with yours and makes a promise of his own.

Rin will be the world’s best striker and beat everyone else, including Isagi and now, Nagi. And he knows you will be by his side when it happens.

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synity · 1 month ago

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Please write producer!woozi x reader just anything about it I BADLY NEED WOOZI FICS

White Noises

(Lee Jihoon x FemReader)

*slice of life, angst, heavy angst, Emotional manipulation, gaslighting, emotional neglect*

You loved him. You loved him.

And that made it worse.

Because Jihoon wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t neglectful by intention. He didn’t forget anniversaries or raise his voice or flirt with anyone else. He was consistent, gentle even in his silence. And he loved his music the kind of love that burned so bright, it left little space for shadows like you.

He used to invite you in into his studio, his world, his chaos. You’d curl on his small couch, chin on your knees, while he played melodies he wasn’t confident about yet. “It’s not good,” he’d mutter, scratching his neck, but you’d shake your head and smile, hearing what he couldn’t.

Now?

Now he shut the door.

Now, you only saw him in passing hunched over his monitors, headphones on, eyes distant even when you waved from the hallway. A ghost lingering in the home you once shared.

And the hardest part?

You didn’t know when it started.

Maybe it was after that third comeback. Maybe it was the constant pressure to outdo himself. Maybe he just assumed you’d always be there, waiting quietly like a favorite verse in a song he hadn’t played in a while.

Maybe… you’d let yourself disappear for him.

The dinner table sat for two. It had been sitting for two for the past five nights.

You brought him food warm at first, lukewarm by the time he remembered, untouched when he didn’t.

There was a note scribbled on a napkin in front of his untouched soup.

“I don’t want to eat alone anymore.”

You crumpled it before he could see. Threw it in the trash.

Maybe you were being dramatic. Maybe he was just stressed. Maybe this was what loving someone brilliant looked like loving them from a distance, understanding their silence, waiting for slivers of time like gifts.

But love wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

You missed the version of Jihoon who tugged you by the wrist to slow dance with him at 2 a.m. in the kitchen. Who whispered lyrics into your hair as you fell asleep. Who wrote your name in the corner of sheet music like a secret.

Now? He was just… tired.

And you were tired too.

But not from work. From waiting.

That weekend, you packed an overnight bag and left.

No dramatic note. No angry voicemail. Just a message:

“Going to stay with a friend. I need some air.”

You didn’t expect him to reply immediately. He didn’t.

You didn’t expect him to chase after you. He didn’t.

Three days passed.

You checked your phone, irrationally hoping he’d say something.

But silence.

On the fourth day, you came back. The apartment smelled the same like jasmine candles and dust and silence. His shoes were at the door. His hoodie still draped over the couch, the one you used to wear.

You walked into the kitchen and paused.

The soup was gone. Plate washed. Counter wiped.

But the emptiness was still there, humming like feedback static through every room.

That night, he came out of the studio.

It was late. You were curled on the couch in your hoodie, scrolling aimlessly, not expecting him to say anything.

But he stood there.

Still in that same black shirt, sleeves rolled, a pencil tucked behind his ear. Tired. Pale. Beautiful in a way that made your chest ache.

“You left,” he said simply.

You didn’t look at him. “Yeah.”

Silence.

Then, “Why?”

You almost laughed.

Instead, you met his eyes. “Because I was tired of feeling like a stranger in my own relationship.”

His jaw tightened.

“You’ve been busy. I know that. But there’s a difference between being busy and being absent, Jihoon.”

He shifted, guilt flickering in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.”

That’s what made it worse.

He walked forward, but not close enough. “I thought you understood…”

“I do,” you whispered. “That’s the problem. I understand everything your dreams, your ambition, your pressure. But who’s understanding me?”

The silence that followed wasn’t sharp. It was hollow. Defeated.

You stood up. “I’m not asking for grand gestures. I just wanted to matter.”

“You do.”

“Then show me. Not in words, Jihoon. In presence.”

You walked past him.

This time, he didn’t stop you.

That night, you slept in the guest room.

No tears. Just silence.

And a pillow that didn’t smell like him.

In the days that followed, you danced around each other. Polite. Distant. Like roommates rather than lovers.

He left coffee on your side of the table again. You didn’t touch it.

You folded his laundry. He left his charger on your nightstand.

Small things. Habits pretending to be affection.

But no late-night hugs. No forehead kisses. No lyrics murmured into your hair.

You sat on the balcony one night, knees to your chest, watching the city breathe beneath the stars.

You didn’t hear him until he was behind you.

“I wrote something,” he said softly.

You turned.

He held out a notebook. Pages dog-eared. Lyrics scribbled messily. Your name on the first line.

“I didn’t know how else to say it,” he confessed. “So I wrote.”

You didn’t take it.

Instead, you asked, “Do you love me, or do you just love writing about me?”

He froze.

You stood, brushing past him. “Words are easy. Presence is hard. And you haven’t really been here in months.”

For once, Jihoon had nothing to say.

You walked away again.

And this time, he let you go.

The kitchen lights were harsh tonight, humming against the tiles like a second heartbeat. You stirred the tea absentmindedly, barely hearing the spoon clink. Everything felt unreal like you were floating somewhere outside of yourself.

He stood in the doorway, arms crossed. Same tired eyes. Same clenched jaw.

“You’re being dramatic,” Jihoon said, tone flat. “Again.”

The spoon stopped.

You looked at him slowly. “Again?”

He stepped in, voice tightening. “You always do this when I’m working. Suddenly I’m the villain because I’m focused?”

You blinked. “I never said that—”

“You didn’t have to,” he cut in. “It’s the sighs. The walking away. The guilt-tripping.”

You flinched.

He stepped closer. “You think I don’t notice the way you make everything about how I don’t love you right? Just because I’m not sitting on the couch 24/7 doesn’t mean I don’t care, Y/N.”

“I never asked for that,” you whispered. “I just wanted—”

“You wanted what?” His voice rose, sharp now. “For me to drop everything because you’re insecure?”

It hit like a slap. Your breath caught in your throat.

Jihoon shook his head, almost laughing. “This is always how it goes. I get busy, and suddenly you’re packing bags and sending guilt texts.”

“I never guilt tripped you,” you said, but even as you said it, your voice wavered.

He pounced on that. “Right. Because, ‘I don’t want to eat alone anymore’ isn’t emotional blackmail?”

Your heart stopped. You hadn’t even let him see that napkin. How did he know?

“You read the trash?” you asked, voice breaking.

“I live here,” he said coldly. “I saw it. And you knew I would. That’s why you left it.”

You shook your head slowly, stepping back. “No. I threw it away so you wouldn’t see it. I was venting, Jihoon. I’m allowed to feel lonely.”

He laughed not loudly, not joyfully, but like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You don’t even realize how much pressure you put on me. You think you’re gentle, but you want me to feel guilty for not being enough for you.”

The words felt like ice in your chest.

“I’ve never asked you to be anything other than present,” you said, quieter this time. “I’ve always supported you—”

He cut in again. “And I didn’t ask for someone who needs hand-holding every second.”

Silence.

That one stung.

Your hands trembled, but you clenched them into fists to hide it.

He didn’t notice. Or maybe he did and just didn’t care.

“I think you just… make problems when things are fine,” Jihoon continued. “Things were fine until you started acting like I don’t care.”

You stared at him, something inside you cracking like glass.

So this was it.

This was how it turned how the man who once pulled you into his arms without words now stood across from you, arms crossed, acting like you were the problem. Like you were unstable. Needy. Selfish.

Maybe you had been quiet too long. Maybe he thought your kindness made you easy to bend.

But tonight, something shifted.

“I’m not making this up,” you said slowly. “I’m not imagining the distance, Jihoon. You stopped being there. You shut me out. And now you want to blame me for noticing?”

He looked annoyed. “You’re twisting this.”

“No,” you snapped, and it surprised you the fire in your chest. “You are.”

His lips parted, but you didn’t let him speak.

“I have done everything I could to love you. Even when I was being ignored. Even when you forgot what day it was. Even when I sat alone in that tiny couch in your studio like a prop in the background of your life. I stayed. But I won’t let you turn this on me.”

The silence between us was suffocating, yet it wasn’t the kind that begged for comfort. It was thick, heavy, like a storm gathering behind closed doors. Woozi’s eyes, usually so gentle and soft, now held a cold, unyielding edge. The words he had just spat out kept replaying in my mind like a broken record, echoing the disbelief, the hurt.

“You’re imagining things. I never said those things. You’re making this up.” His voice was steady, almost clinical, as if I were a child accusing him of some childish mischief.

I stared at him, my chest tight, eyes burning. “How how can you say that? After everything I told you? After how it made me feel? I trusted you…”

He cut me off with a tired shake of his head, as if my pain was a bothersome interruption in his day. “You’re overreacting. You’re too sensitive. I don’t know why you keep twisting things. Maybe you just want to fight.”

That hit me harder than any slap could. The sharp sting of being blamed for my own feelings, my own truth, collapsed me inward.

I blinked back tears that threatened to fall. “I’m not lying. You said it. You hurt me.”

“No, I didn’t.” His voice dropped lower, colder. “You’re just too emotional. Stop making me the bad guy.”

It was the ultimate betrayal—not just the cruel dismissal, but the deliberate rewriting of reality. I wanted to scream, to shake him awake, but my voice caught in my throat.

“Why… why are you doing this?” I whispered, the pain raw and exposed.

He looked away, the mask slipping for a split second. Then, with a small, bitter laugh, he said, “Because if I admit it, then I have to face what I did. And I’m not ready to do that.”

That was the cruel truth he was afraid. Afraid to confront his own mistakes, so he pushed me away instead. Left me alone in a room full of shadows.

I wanted to reach out to him one last time, to plead for the man I thought I loved, but the walls I had built to protect my heart trembled and cracked under the weight of his words. Instead, I turned away, retreating into myself.

Days passed like a blur. I spoke less, smiled less, a ghost lingering in the corners of our shared spaces. The warmth between us was replaced by icy distance. Woozi stayed busy in his studio, buried in music and deadlines, barely looking my way.

And I let him because what was left to say? The person I loved had become a stranger who denied my reality.

Late at night, I lay awake, fingers clutching my sheets, haunted by memories of whispered promises and gentle touches that now felt like echoes from a past life. I told myself to be strong, to hold onto the fragments of who I was before this unraveling.

But sometimes, the loneliness crept in like a tide, threatening to drown me in its relentless waves.

One evening, after a particularly silent dinner, Woozi finally spoke, voice tired and distant.

“We should talk.”

My heart thudded with a mix of hope and dread. “About what?”

“About us.” He sighed. “About everything.”

I wanted to believe we could fix this, but the memory of his cold denial made me hesitate.

“I’m not sure if ‘us’ still exists,” I whispered.

He closed his eyes, the exhaustion plain on his face. “Maybe it doesn’t. But I don’t want to lose you.”

His words were fragile, but I wasn’t sure if they were enough anymore. Not without truth. Not without accountability.

I looked at him, searching for the man I once knew in the shadows of his guarded gaze. But all I saw was the pain of two people slowly unraveling, tangled in silence and broken trust.

And maybe, that was the hardest truth of all.

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wileys-russo · 6 months ago

Text

santa's biggest fan II l.williamson

part of the mila-verse and a little belated christmas fic i never finished in time santa's biggest fan II l.williamson "okay mils, time for bed bubba!" you clapped your hands together when the movie finished, the end credits rolling and your wife heaving a sigh of relief as your daughter groaned.

"another one! i'm not tired." the small blonde demanded, curling even more into leah who smiled in amusement, but that dropped the moment you gave her a hard look of warning.

"bubba if you don't go to sleep, santa won't come!" the footballer whistled with a firm nod as mila looked up to her in shock. "he only comes when everyone is sleeping." you back her up with another nod.

"okay lets all go to bed come on!" mila announced, launching herself off the lounge and sprinting off in the direction of yours and leahs room.

"mila babe, mummy and i don't go to sleep yet. remember how we talked about grown up bedtime is different to kid bedtime?" you called after her, footsteps thundering back down the hall as you were grateful you didn't still live in the tiny upstairs apartment you and leah first moved into together years before mila was even a thought.

"then why can't i stay up with you? its a special night, mummy said so! that should mean special rules." mila huffed, bottom lip jutting out into an adorable pout as she stomped her foot.

"it is already an hour past your bedtime little miss, now go on jump into bed and we'll come in and read you a special story. right?" leah chimed in, mila shaking her head and with a resoundingly stubborn no! was off and racing around the house again as you and leah shared a knowing look.

"my love i have a feeling this is going to be a long night."

and safe to say you weren't a betting woman but you were right on the money with that predication.

"is she..." you whispered to your wife as she ever so slowly tip toed back into the living room with a quick nod and you exhaled in relief. "how many stories?" you asked with a slight smile of amusement, opening your arms as the blonde sank down into them with a huff.

"the same one, over and over, seven bloody times. i might just add in the murder of that hungry hungry caterpillar the next fucking time i read it!" leah grumbled into your neck, your body vibrating beneath her with a quiet laughter.

"its not funny! god why are kids like this? first it was that awful baby shark song, then it was that awful show about fruit and friendship or whatever, now its the same awful book on repeat!" leah whined as you merely smiled, hand slipping up her hoodie to scratch your nails gently up and down her back.

"kids just like repetition baby its safe for them, they know they won't be disappointed. almost like a defender i know who has had the same pregame routine for...what is it now? ten? eleven years?" you chuckled, leahs head whipping up to scowl down at you as her taller body hovered over yours.

"that is not the same thing!" she whisper yelled defensively as your smile widened into a grin.

"is too. or should we talk about the rotation of bland beige meals you rotate? our daughter has a more adventurous palette than you, at least she can handle some seasoning and colour!" you teased, poking your tongue out in response to her offended scoff.

"i will have you know-" your hand darted up to cover her mouth with a sharp shut up at her raised tone of voice, peeking your head up to glance over your wifes shoulder, sighing in relief when mila didn't appear.

"you know my girl there is another way you could shut me up thats much more pleasant for both of us." leah smirked once you'd removed your hand, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively as you tried to bite back your smile, her arms planting themselves either side of your head.

"is that mistletoe?" leah frowned looking up at the ceiling but the moment you tried to glance up her mouth connected with yours, your fingers pinching her side. "you're unbelievable." you mumbled against her lips with a slight snicker.

"unbelievably sexy? oh baby, how you flatter me." leah gasped sarcastically, once again kissing you quickly before you could reply, settling herself comfortably on top of you as your tongues fought for dominance of the kiss.

but before anyone could win there was an interruption, leah falling off of you in shock and groaning as her back met the floor with a thump.

"i'm not tired and i can't sleep!" mila repeated, stomping her foot with a scowl that was a near mirror image of your wives from where she sat on the floor muttering about her tailbone.

with a deep sigh you sat up, swinging yourself to push off the sofa and scooping up the tiny blonde, settling her on your hip. "well that's too bad mil, it is way past your bedtime!" you carried her back to her room, protests ringing out the entire time.

"story!" the girl demanded as you tucked her back into bed, sighing again and reaching for the book already sat on the bedside table, making yourself comfortable in the armchair by your daughters bed.

"in the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf..."

"-then he nibbled a hole in the cocoon, pushed his way out and-" "-and he was a beautiful butterfly!" your daughter finished excitedly, clapping her hands and nowhere near close to sleep as you exhaled tiredly and snapped the book shut.

"right i've read this three times now and you're a big girl right bubba? well big girls go to sleep when they're supposed to. so you and gunner-" you paused to adjust the little dinosaur plushie held tightly in your daughters grasp.

"-are going to lay here very quietly together, until you fall asleep. or else no santa! you want santa to come visit right mils?" you ran a hand through her mess of blonde hair as she nodded eagerly.

"mama!" her hand grabbed a fistful of your hoodie as you stood and ducked down to kiss her forehead. "yes baby?" you sighed with a small smile.

"cuddles till i fall asleep? pwease?" the four year old pouted, hitting you with the puppy dog eyes she knew worked like a charm on the pair of you most of the time.

"don't do that mil, you know how to do your L's properly." you warned with a look. "please! please, please, please, please-" mila begged as you sighed, seemingly more tired than she was at this rate and knowing the later she stayed up the later you and leah had to stay up to sort out her presents.

"okay! okay okay. but just for a little while, yeah?" you gave in, gently tugging her hands off you and moving to flick the big light in her room off, leaving only the small red arsenal nightlight illuminating a pathway to her door.

"bubba no-" you tried as you laid down beside her, the four year old climbing basically on top of you, her gunnasaurus plushie squished against your cheek as you exhaled, not bothered for the argument.

one hand moving to tangle in her hair your fingers moved rhythmically against her scalp, feeling her limbs ragdoll as her body became that little bit heavier, her breathing evening out against your collarbone.

you waited a few more minutes until you were sure she was properly asleep before very very carefully moving her back into bed, wincing as you struggled to detatch her arms which seemed to be locked around your neck.

though you didn't make it two steps towards the door before she awoke again, tiredly sitting up and wiping her eyes as you exhaled with a shake of your head.

"mama no! more cuddles." "no more cuddles bubba, time to go to sleep. mama will sit by the door for five minutes until you sleep again, okay?" you bargained quietly, your daughter seeming to accept that with a nod as she sank back down in bed right as you sat down on the floor.

five minutes passed though again as you tried to leave her voice rang out for you to stay and you sank back down to the floor with a frustrated sigh, gently encouraging her to lay down and try to sleep.

ten more minutes and you managed to crawl out of the room without interruption, leaving her door open ajar and returning the living room where your wife was still sat up awake, now bundled beneath a blanket.

"come here." the defender smiled knowingly, moving the blanket and adjusting to give you some room to sit between her legs, patting the sofa encouragingly.

though your ass had barely made contact before it sounded again, now both you and leah groaning quietly.

"mama! mummy! i had a bad dream!"

"she's down?" you asked hopefully, now sat comfortably beneath the blanket leah once was, your wife tag teaming to go and lay down with your daughter a half an hour ago, only now emerging.

"for the count." leah confirmed with a tired nod, taking a seat beside you and wiggling beneath the blanket, grabbing your legs and moving them to rest on her lap.

"shit its nearly midnight!" leah realised with a huff, tapping her phone and seeing the time as you hummed, your head resting on her shoulder. "she's a night owl like her mummy!" you teased, patting leahs chest who flicked your ear playfully.

"god i love this movie." you hummed happily, the two of you having been watching bits and pieces of the holiday as you took turns popping in and out of your daughters bedroom to try and get her to succumb to sleep so the pair of you could play santa.

and as your movie finished and there'd been no sight of mila for at least forty minutes now, you readied yourself to do just that, the presents all neatly stacked in your bedroom as leah counted quietly to make sure everything was accounted for.

"-so the bike stays here from us, and the new predator boots go out from santa." leah rolled her eyes at that making you grin, alessia having insisted her goddaughter grew up on predators boots instead of phantoms, something which had driven leah up the wall from the very moment the topic was raised, both you and your best friend adidas athletes while she was with nike.

"i'll go check she's asleep and grab the stocking off her bed, mrs claus." you winked, stealing a kiss from the grumpy blonde whose eyes rolled.

you'd grown up doing christmas a little differently from your wife, the stocking always sat on the foot of your bed rather than hung in the living room, a tradition you'd carried on through your daughter much to leahs protests it made everything ten times harder.

and tonight unfortunately, you were about to find out she was very very right.

you ever so carefully pushed open your daughters door, sticking your head in and surveying the room. "santa?" you heard a tired voice call out groggily, quickly pulling your head back and swearing under your breath, waiting by the door for a moment to see if she'd get up.

but it would seem the small blonde was at least half asleep as no footsteps sounded, and you hurried back to the bedroom where leah was nowhere to be seen, found in the living room meticulously organising the presents beneath the tree.

"we've got a problem." you sighed as she looked up with a frown and an eyebrow raised questioningly. "she's awake still? seriously? its nearly two in the morning babe this is ridiculous!" leah whispered as your eyes rolled.

"sort of, she's not quite asleep but she's not fully awake. we could wait a little while longer?" you sighed tiredly, running a hand through your hair as leah pulled a face.

"you and i both know she's not sleeping past five in the morning babe, no matter when she falls asleep, and i need sleep to deal with our families all day!" leah whined, head thumping against the wall.

"what and i don't leah? we'll just wait ten minutes and i'll check again!" you warned, your wife too tired to protest as she nodded, joining you on the lounge a few moments later.

sure enough when you popped your head in a little while later mila appeared to be sleeping, not a peep heard as you waited a few seconds to be sure, though your breath hitched as she tossed and turned suddenly.

"she's restless, i'm worried she'll wake up." you sighed as you returned to your bedroom where leah was waiting. "you're joking yeah? it'll be fine! lets just get it over and done with." the defender scoffed bluntly, trying to stand from the bed as you pushed at her chest and sent her bouncing back down.

"leah. we are not ruining the magic of christmas for our four year old daughter who loves santa." you growled tiredly, giving her a dirty look before disappearing into the en-suite, rummaging around for something.

"well we're also not being held hostage by that four year old for another hour!" your wife growled right back as she popped up in the doorway. "correct. so, time for plan b!" you stood and leahs hardened face fell seeing what you held in your hands.

"oh absolutely the fuck not. i know what you're thinking babe and thats not happening!"

only a few minutes later, it was most definitely happening despite your wives ongoing grumbles and mumbles of protest as you carefully stuck the cotton wool balls to her face.

"this is fucking ridiculous!" leah grunted unhappily, scrunching her nose up as you finished the makeshift beard, the blonde clad in a matching red arsenal tracksuit with a couple of pillows stuffed up her jumper and a white scarf tied around her waist.

"babe i look like a bloody garden gnome not santa!" leah whined as she caught sight of herself in the mirror and winced, a red arsenal beanie with a funnel under it to create somewhat of a makeshift santa hat teetering precariously on her head.

"she won't notice in the dark if she wakes up leah. you'll just crawl in, try not to wake her, get the stocking. we fill it, you crawl in and put it very carefully back, and we're off to bed!" you recounted, shoving her out of your bedroom and toward your daughters.

"go santa go!" you whispered, hand colliding with her ass encouragingly as she jumped in surprise and turned to give you a filthy look.

"oi you better watch it, elf." the blonde pointed menacingly as your eyes rolled, hiding a smile as your wife dropped to her stomach, pushing mila's door open and very carefully commando crawling inside.

you felt as though you couldn't breathe until she returned, a hand over your mouth to stop from laughing as she crawled out again a moment later dragging the stocking with her.

"don't you dare laugh." the older girl muttered, hitting you in the face with the stocking as the air of you hurried to fill it with presents quickly as possible, your breath again stopped as leah began the crawl inside to put it back.

thankfully despite a few tired mumbles and a sleepy roll over that had leah dropping flat to the floor, her mission was successful and a very sudden burst of adrenaline filled her body as she crawled out and ever so carefully pulled the door shut with a soft click.

your own bedroom door closing you squealed as a body hurtled into yours, a few loose cotton balls falling to hit you in the head as your back hit the mattress and your wife hovered over you with a cheeky grin and an all too familiar glint in her eyes.

"now i think santa deserves a little reward for all her hard hard work tonight my darling, don't you?"

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #woso x reader #woso blurbs #woso fanfics #woso imagine

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siilent-wanderer · 6 months ago

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Little Things

Summary: Jimin never thought she’d fall for the little things — adjusting stray hairs, shared smiles, and the quiet warmth of Y/N’s laugh. But as their bond deepens, those small moments turn into something much bigger, leaving Jimin hopelessly captivated by the person who’s always been right there.

Genre: FLUFF, minor tension and jealousy

Word Count: 2k words

Yu Jimin (Karina) x aespa 5th member! reader

A/N: read Stuck With Yu here

The SM practice room had seen its fair share of drama — sweat-soaked nights, creative differences, and the occasional ego clash. Y/N and Jimin had checked all those boxes in the early days.

Jimin couldn’t pinpoint when exactly her initial irritation toward Y/N had begun to shift. Maybe it was when she caught Y/N making the other members laugh during grueling rehearsals. Or when the younger girl, despite her quiet confidence, stayed back to practice even after the others had left. All she knew was that she had Minjeong to blame (or thank, for ditching them at the very last minute).

Whatever the reason, Jimin knew one thing: Y/N had always intrigued her from the start.

Weeks after the amusement park date, Jimin couldn’t help but replay moments of that night in her head — the quiet intensity of Y/N's smile, the way her eyes sparkled under the fireworks, and the warmth of her presence that lingered long after they had parted ways.

But things didn’t change overnight. They still danced around their feelings, unwilling to risk disrupting the rhythm of their friendship or the dynamic of the group.

“Your timing’s a little off in the second verse,” Jimin had pointed out one evening during practice.

Y/N had blinked at her, then grinned. “I thought you were too polite to call me out like that now.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smirk. “I’m polite, not blind.”

From then on, there were moments — a playful rivalry during choreography drills, subtle jabs in vocal warm-ups — but somewhere in between, they began to balance each other out.

Jimin found herself staying late with Y/N to refine harmonies, and the younger girl started helping Jimin find the exact balance between leadership and letting loose.

The shift was subtle. It began with small, almost imperceptible changes.

Y/N had a habit of scratching her head when she was nervous or trying to figure out a dance move. One day, without thinking, Jimin reached over and gave her a light tap on the head. “You’ll go bald if you keep doing that,” she teased.

The next time it happened, Jimin's hand lingered, her fingers briefly smoothing over Y/N’s hair before she pulled away. Neither of them said anything, but the touch became a habit whenever the others weren't around.

One night, however, Jimin found herself sitting on the floor near Y/N as the group chatted idly about their upcoming schedule. Without thinking, her hand reached out to gently detangle a strand of Y/N’s hair.

The room went silent for a beat.

“Are you seriously combing my hair right now, unnie?” Y/N asked, amused but slightly embarrassed.

Jimin froze, her hand midair. “What? I— no! I wasn’t!”

Aeri and Minjeong burst into laughter, and even Yizhuo, who had been quiet most of the night, couldn’t hide her giggles.

Y/N just smiled, brushing it off. But the small moment left Jimin feeling oddly exposed, like her feelings were bleeding through the cracks she’d tried so hard to keep sealed.

One particularly rough week, the weight of back-to-back rehearsals and recording sessions finally caught up to Y/N. She stumbled into the dorm, her shoulders slumped and her expression drained. Without thinking, Jimin opened her arms.

Y/N hesitated for half a second before stepping into the embrace. Jimin’s arms tightened around her, and the younger let herself melt into the warmth.

“You’re okay,” Jimin murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’ll get through this.”

Y/N didn’t say anything, but the way she clung to Jimin spoke volumes.

It wasn’t long before eagle-eyed fans began to notice something curious in behind-the-scenes videos and candid photos. While Minjeong and Yizhuo usually struck goofy poses and Aeri radiated energy, Jimin's gaze often lingered on Y/N. There was a softness in her eyes, a quiet admiration that stood in contrast to her usual composed demeanor.

In one viral clip from a behind-the-scenes vlog, the group was backstage, killing time between performances. Yizhuo was animatedly recounting a funny mishap from rehearsal, and Y/N was laughing so hard she had to clutch her stomach. Jimin, seated nearby, wasn’t joining in the laughter. Instead, she was watching Y/N with an expression that spoke volumes — her lips curved in a small, involuntary smile and her eyes brimming with warmth.

Fans flooded the comments:

“Karina’s so whipped for Y/N, I can’t 😭” “did anyone else notice how jimin just stares at y/n like that?? my heart!” “bruh idk what this is, but i’m shipping it already”

Then there was the infamous candid photo that circulated after the group’s outdoor photoshoot. The members were on break, sitting on picnic blankets. Y/N had her hair tied up messily, laughing at something Minjeong had whispered to her. The laughter lit up her entire face, carefree and radiant. In the background, just slightly blurred, Jimin was mid-sip of her water bottle — but her gaze was locked on Y/N. The look in her eyes was unguarded and soft, a stark contrast to her usual composed expression.

Another clip that sparked a frenzy was from one of their practice room lives. The group was chatting casually with fans when Y/N fumbled her Korean, prompting Aeri to jump in and tease her in English. Y/N retaliated by throwing a small cushion at Aeri, who ducked dramatically, sending the rest of the members into fits of laughter. Jimin, though, didn’t even seem to register the joke. Instead, the camera caught her subtly reaching over to adjust a stray hair falling into Y/N's face, her touch gentle and unthinking.

Fans were quick to notice:

“jimin brushing y/n's hair away… do you SEE the domesticity??” “Y/N: chaos Karina: supportive mom mode engaged” “someone pls check on yu jimin. she’s fallen and can’t get up 🥺”

Sharing dorms meant they saw each other constantly, but Jimin never tired of Y/N's quirks — her midnight ramen cravings, the way she hummed off-key while brushing her teeth, the little notes she left on their whiteboard.

However, sharing dorms also meant having to share Y/N with three other girls, and none tested her patience more than Aeri. It wasn’t intentional — Aeri’s easy humor and the fact that she and Y/N were both fluent English speakers naturally drew them together. Whether it was late-night dance practices, trading inside jokes or bonding over playlists they created for each other, their bond seemed effortless. Jimin often found herself biting back irritation when she’d walk into the practice room to see Y/N sprawled out on the floor, laughing at something Aeri said, making Jimin’s stomach twist in a way she didn’t want to name.

“Y/N, let’s practice the harmonies again,” Jimin called out after a water break.

But Y/N was already tangled in a playful tug-of-war with Aeri over a water bottle. Aeri won, earning an exaggerated groan from Y/N and another round of giggles.

Jimin’s lips thinned, her tone sharper than she intended. “Kang Y/N, focus. We’re behind schedule.”

Y/N blinked, her smile fading as she nodded. “Sorry, unnie. Coming.”

The tension lingered throughout rehearsal, and Jimin couldn’t ignore the tightness in her chest whenever Y/N’s attention wandered back to the Japanese member.

Later that evening, the group gathered in the dorm's common area. Aeri and Y/N were seated on the couch, heads close as they scrolled through Aeri's phone. Their occasional bursts of laughter made it impossible for Jimin to focus on the script in her lap.

“Aeri-ya, you should probably give Y/N a break,” Jimin said casually, though her voice held an edge.

Y/N looked up, confused. “Unnie, we’re just—”

“It’s getting late,” Jimin interrupted, standing abruptly. “We have an early call time tomorrow.”

Aeri raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, while Y/N’s expression flickered with hurt before she masked it.

Jimin retreated to her room, pressing her palms to her temples. She didn’t know what annoyed her more — Y/N’s easy closeness with Aeri or her own inability to control her emotions.

Later that night when everyone had gone to bed, Jimin found herself pacing the dorm’s kitchen, trying to calm the strange emotions swirling inside her. She was startled when Y/N walked in, a glass of water in her hand and a curious expression on her face.

"Unnie," Y/N called, leaning against the counter. “Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?”

Jimin stopped pacing and turned to face her, trying to school her features into neutrality. “Acting like what?”

“Like you’re mad at me,” Y/N said, crossing her arms. “Or Aeri unnie, for that matter. Did something happen?”

Jimin hesitated. She wasn’t mad, not really. She just… couldn’t explain why seeing Y/N and Aeri together made her feel like this.

“I’m not mad,” Jimin muttered, her voice quieter now.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Then what is it?”

The older girl opened her mouth, then closed it again, unsure of how to put her feelings into words.

Y/N tilted her head, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “If you’re so worried that someone will snatch me up, why don’t you just confess to me right now?”

Jimin froze, her lips parting as if to respond, but no sound came out. Y/N’s teasing smirk faltered when she noticed the way Jimin’s jaw clenched, her eyes darting away. The silence that followed was heavier than she’d expected, tension thick in the air.

“I-I was kidding, unnie,” Y/N said softly, her voice losing its edge. “You don’t have to—”

But Jimin was already standing, her movements abrupt. “Let’s talk outside,” she said, her tone firm but quiet.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard, but followed Jimin as she stepped out onto the balcony. The night air was crisp, and the city lights below shimmered like scattered stars. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the hum of the distant traffic filling the silence.

Jimin leaned on the railing, her hands gripping the cold metal as if grounding herself. “You’re right,” she said finally, her voice barely audible. “I don’t like it when you’re that close with Aeri.”

Y/N tilted her head, watching her. “Why?”

Jimin exhaled shakily, the breath visible in the cool air. “Because every time I see you with her, I feel like I’m losing you. And that scares me.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed, her teasing demeanor completely gone. “Unnie…”

Jimin turned to face her, her eyes raw with emotion. “It’s not fair of me, I know. You’re allowed to be close with whoever you want. But I—” She paused, her voice cracking slightly. “I can’t help it. You’re the first person I think about when I wake up, and the last before I fall asleep. I’ve been trying to ignore it for so long, but it’s you, Y/N. It’s always been you.”

For a moment, Y/N said nothing, her lips parted as if to respond but no words forming. Then she stepped closer, her hand brushing against Jimin’s on the railing. “You should’ve just said so earlier,” she murmured, her lips curling into a soft smile. “I’ve been waiting for you, unnie.”

Jimin’s breath hitched as Y/N leaned in, her warmth cutting through the cold night air. The city lights twinkled below them, a soft breeze weaving through the balcony and making Jimin shiver slightly. Without thinking, Y/N tugged the blanket off her own shoulders and draped it over both of them, their faces mere inches apart.

“You’re really something, you know that?” Jimin whispered, her voice trembling as she gazed into Y/N’s eyes.

The younger girl’s grin widened, her hand now fully covering Jimin’s. “I could say the same about you.”

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in shared warmth, the faint glow of streetlights and the hum of distant traffic adding a quiet magic to the moment. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, Y/N leaned back slightly and quipped, “So, does this mean I’m officially off the market?”

Jimin laughed softly, the tension melting away. “Yes. And Aeri is definitely going to hear about this.”

Y/N snorted, pulling Jimin back inside. “Good luck with that, unnie. She’s going to say she saw this coming from a mile away.”

And as they settled on the couch, still cocooned in the shared blanket and each other’s warmth, Jimin couldn’t stop the quiet happiness bubbling in her chest. For the first time, everything felt exactly as it should — Y/N beside her, the cold night shut out, and a future that felt just a little brighter.

A/N: it was def quite smthn arranging all of my thoughts for this one (had too many ideas) but I loved writing whipped (and jealous) jimin saur much. hope you enjoyed this one!

#aespa imagines #karina imagines #karina x reader #yu jimin #aespa scenarios #girl group imagines #fem reader #Spotify

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lustlovehart · 7 months ago

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Dang over 700, that’s impressive congrats!

If you still have requests open, maybe we can see/hear more about Sebek? I love the idea of him as a swamp monster tsundere dumping flowers on MH! Reader and find him fun~

Summary: Humans are pests. They’re the reason Malleus has fallen from grace, and why Lilia is no longer in his prime. He hates you, and everything your job stands for. He hates the way you’re not like them. He hates how you’re too kind. He wants to hate you, yet he can’t at all.

Warnings: Tiny bit of Tsundere Sebek, He thinks about 💀 you (he changes his mind dw guys!!), Mentions of his monster crimes, Little tiny hint of obsession, Implied human eating, Sebek sketch at end!

Your feet are dipped into the water, ripples cascading off where the limbs land, tranquil and cold, the shadows of the trees just further enriching the experience.

The one thing that isn’t relaxing about the water however, may as well be the guardian of the swamp, who’s practically breathing down your neck.

“Well human? Have you had your fill of this sacred marsh? I will not have you linger here longer than necessary! I only allowed you in to show the true essence of beings like us.”

Despite what leaves his mouth, you have a striking feeling that he won’t throw you out.

Because, that’s the fourth time he’s said that, and he’s yet to drag you out.

Through the close proximity, you place your palm on his face, softly pushing him away in your annoyance, yet like a magnet, he attracts himself right back to you, finding his place in the area to be right by your side.

“I’ve drowned many of your kind, don’t push me away so carelessly…!”

“Have you drowned me yet?” He stutters for a moment, racking his brain to find a suitable excuse as to why that is. He stops when you lean back on the grass, looking up at the sky as you lay down.

But to your dismay, he finds one.

“My liege wants you alive, so we must do what he wants.”

“You want the best for him right? What if the best for him is getting rid of me?” You’ve once again stopped any retort on his tongue, your eyes fluttering shut. Your feet continues to dangle in his waters, breath steadying as you let the sound of dew drops falling into the marsh invade your ears.

In your slumber, you don’t notice the way Sebeks scaley face is centimeters away from yours, trembling inhales. You’re right. Getting rid of humans is the best for his liege, for… all monsters really.

His clawed hand reaches up towards your throat, his nails scratching a line in your skin. Webbed fingers tremble, he could, he really could…

He could help everyone.

…

His hand falls, his forehead falling onto yours. His skin is rough, but he takes care in placing his head softly on yours to not wake you up. His palm follows in suit, laying itself on your throat, cold blood feeling the warmth of your mortal body.

And your heart. He remembers reading about human hearts, how they’re important to they’re bodily functions. Without it, you’d die. It’d be easier than killing you himself. He doesn't know which is better, for himself. He could take pride knowing he rid the world of one more wretched monster hunter, or he could rest in comfort knowing you passed in peace.

Sebek doesn’t notice the way the plants have emerged from the water, taking hold of your legs. There’s a particular branch that caresses your face in a certain manner, one completely inappropriate for a human. His mouth hangs up, immediately ripping the wood from your flesh. He throws the twig away, his head turning when your visibly stir at the motion.

He’s not well versed in human care. He's read about it, but obviously he’s never acted upon it! His hands fumble, if he’s correct, one of the quickest ways to knock a human out is to hit them really hard…! But… He doesn’t wanna do that—

Ah, you’re asleep again.

Sebek carefully lifts himself from your body, water dripping onto the grass from his hair. He slowly backs himself into the water, the only part visible being his head, before entirely disappearing into the murky water.

He realizes something in the comfort of his pond.

He… He wouldn’t need to kill you if you just… never left. Neither would you ever disturb the peace of any other beasts.

Under that water, he ties a knot, petals floating above the marsh at his bouquet. As well as a hand, that drops deep down. A coworker of yours. He’s unsure why you’re the only one he’s not too keen on consuming, yet he can so easily do it to those you know.

It doesn’t matter. They’re the same. Taste the same too.

…

You awake to a lonely sight, Sebek gone from the scene. Though, your chest feels heavier than usual. You look down, and an array of different plants and greenery fill your vision. It’s wrapped in flimsy wood bark, moss tying the piece together.

There’s a note hastily inscribed.

Human, leave soon.

Even without reading the message you know it’s Sebek. You assume it’s from his human hatred he writes such mean words.

In truth, that’s part of it. You’ll never know the other is him not wanting to see the corpses at the bottom of his home. Or maybe you will. Especially when you notice a shiny pendant gifted inside the flowers. Assuming it to be a sweet gesture from Sebek you smile at it. Such a happiness slowly fades when you feel a certain familiarity with the necklace.

… You feel like you’ve seen this before.

#monster!twst #askves #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #vesperwrites #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yan twst

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san8ny · 1 year ago

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Thinking about..Ex-girlfriend Ellie <3

[an: not an original trope, i cringed everytime i attempted to proof read so i couldnt..srry]

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who scoffs when you’re mentioned at all, but is all fucking ears, tilting her head back and giving the person a side eye,

“I mean..you can continue, not like I care at all but like, it’s rude to interrupt someone so..”

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who’s once paid some instagram tarot reader a good 10 bucks to see if yall were compatible despite not believing in it before,

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who’s bitterly venmo requesting her money back when the girl says no,

“Shit isnt even real, you scammed me gimme it back bruh”

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who’s definitely got a fake account to keep tabs on you, which might look, to the average eye, some middle aged woman who posts her food and her kids, with some biblical verses in her bio— when it’s ellie with some google found, random ass photos of people

“Im so fuckin smart..” she geeks, pumping her fist when you accept her follow request

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who’s looking down at her phone dumbfounded when she’s blocked on the account thr next day, throwing her hands in the air—forgetting just who she learnt that trick from..

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who’s even more confused when her door is knocked, you on the other side, phone in-hand with the same account pulled up,

“Er..that’s not me?..” She says awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck as she leans on her doorframe.

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who cries dramatically and is on her knees when you tell her with a strict finger to leave her alone, practically groveling at your feet in pure anguish as she pleads!

“P-please! You don— you don’t understand! You can’t!”

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who hiccups, eyes puffy with long lashes coated in tears as she wraps her arms around your calves—only you could ever have her in this state! I mean, look at how distraught she is at the sheer idea of possibly leaving you alone forever!

She doesn’t care in the slightest if the neighbors hit her with a noise complaint.

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who soon enough has you on her bed, in a warm mating press, breathy moans of never having you leave her side, telling you she’d rather die than ever have anyone else fill your shoes as your sloppy cunts kiss, wet noises echoing off the drywalls of ellie’s cheap apartment,

“C—cum! Cum, nee— need you so..o—oh! Oh, my god? Loveyousomuch, loveyousomuch”

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who’s an utter loser, pathetically feeling tears well up again as the idea of you getting up and taking your stuff after this hits— so she takes you for another round, this time with her 8inch strap.

It’s a disgusting mess, really.

Ex Girlfriend Ellie who you’ve got a twitchy mess as you use her so deliciously, quickly becoming overstimulated once more when she realizes she’s orgasmed like 5 times already; Milky fluids all over thighs as she ruts into you— fucking a mixture of your cums back into you with whats gathered around her strap.

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie is pretty much in another word from the pleasure, mouth ajar as her moans leave in pants— begging for a kiss as her rosey tits bounce a bit against you

“Ple—uh, uh! Please, just ‘wan a kiss, c—can’t, uhm!— can’t reach yo—ou!” She whines tiredly, her sweaty upper body leaning forward on your back, littering sloppy kisses all over you, cmon..give her a kiss :(

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who you eventually give into, giving a chaste kiss to, but she doesn’t return the same one back— instead, opting to swipe her tongue around and suckle your blush coloured tongue, bobbing her head up and down while the saliva gathers on her tastebuds, excess dribbling down her chin and splattering somewhere on the already ruined bedsheets,

“F—wuckin’ wa—ah..’wan you all..”

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who watches you sleep while she lazily licks at your worn-out pussy, humming as she probes a finger on the engorged clit— giggling when you sleepily swat a hand down to push her head away, but she’s latched on.

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who, even if you move a thousand miles away from, will always be there because she’s yours.

#lesbian #ellie williams x reader #Ellie williams smut #wlw #tlou 2 smut #ellie williams #sappic

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zepskies · 4 months ago

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(Not a fanfic request) Imagine spoiling Ben and/or kissing him stupid. Just getting through all the machismo stuff and becoming his safe space. Doing mundane tasks but they never feel mundane because you’re with your best friend. Imagine him growing as a person. Imagine him looking at you with nothing but adoration. Jensen Ackles has so much to atone for— How dare he be so talented. 😭💕

Ahhh you're giving me the warm fuzzies, anon! 🥰 I definitely think this would be the vibe between SB/Ben and the reader in my series Break Me Down, and I've tried to give that sense of them being each other's safe space in many of the sequel stories.

In that story-verse, Ben's the one who makes you feel safe, who gives you the support you need so you don't have to be so strong all the time. While you're the one who makes him feel like there's someone in the world who understands him, accepts him for who he is, but also takes him to task when he needs it.

More domestic headcanons with Ben:

(Whoops, my hand slipped. 😂💚)

You and Ben watch old movies together and argue about the plot, with your modern, feminist view vs. his "traditionalist" view. But he also gives you behind the scenes info whenever he actually knows the actors, directors, etc. -- like the best movie commentary ever.

Ben won't easily admit it, but one of his favorite things is just chilling on the couch with you, flipping through channels, drinking a glass of whiskey or snacking on junk. You using him as a body pillow, basically. Or him with his head in your lap while you scratch his back or run your fingers through his hair. You like playing with his hair, the soft strands.

You also like his hands, long fingers and wide palms. But he likes the gentleness of your hands.

Ben likes taking you out to dinner, but he also likes going grocery shopping with you because he likes picking out new things to try (even as he makes fun of all the "oatmilk this" and "quinoa that").

Late at night, if either of you can't sleep (or after a few rounds of keeping each other up), Ben starts to open up.

He tells you about his life before Compound V, about his mother, about his father, about the world he grew up in, and sometimes, very rarely, about that Russian lab.

Those are the times that you have to hide how much your heart breaks, because you don't want him to instinctively close back up, not wanting to be pitied or seen as less of a man for being honest about what he went through.

He also admits to things he did when he was the "leader" of Payback -- his "glory days." What he doesn't admit, but you can tell just by his tone and demeanor, is that he's less proud and yearning those days than he used to be.

Actually, he wouldn't go back to those days even if he could.

Because now, he has you. He has a real family. That's the main thing that's real to him now.

AN: Again, didn't mean for this to become a mini HC, but there ya go! loll 💚

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pankowcrumbs · 2 months ago

Text

Skirt X Eddie Munson

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Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist

It had been an oddly quiet evening. The kind that stretches long and slow like honey dripping from a spoon. Outside, rain tapped gently at the windows like a metronome, the occasional rumble of thunder making the lights flicker ever so slightly. The kind of evening where you couldn’t help but want to be tangled up in someone else and in this case, that someone was currently hunched over his guitar, scribbling notes in a worn, coffee-stained notebook.

Eddie Munson, the love of my life and bane of my current cuddle-starved existence.

“Baby,” I called from the sofa, stretching like a cat, my arms above my head as I nestled deeper into the throw blanket. “Come cuddle me. It’s practically written in the rain.”

“I will in a bit,” he muttered distractedly, strumming a chord and frowning when it didn’t sound the way he wanted it to.

“That’s what you said twenty minutes ago.” I pouted, poking my toes out from under the blanket. “You’ve been working on that same verse for hours.”

Eddie glanced up briefly, curls messy, pencil tucked behind his ear, that little furrow in his brow that always formed when he was stuck. He was frustratingly beautiful when he was focused. He looked like trouble incarnate with his tattooed fingers and wild hair, and yet, right now, I wanted nothing more than for him to drop that damn guitar and wrap his arms around me.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, “I just need to finish this one thing. I’m nearly there, I promise.”

I paused, watching him. The way his lip curled as he muttered the line under his breath, the frustrated scratch of his pencil on the page. I knew he meant well. But I also knew how to get his attention.

“Fine,” I said, voice sugary-sweet. “Come cuddle me, and I’ll let you put your hand up my skirt.”

That made him look up.

I didn’t stop there.

“We can even make a game out of it,” I added, lazily twirling a lock of my hair. “See how long I can go without making a sound.”

Eddie blinked once. Then again. His pencil dropped.

“You’re evil,” he said, his tone hoarse with sudden interest.

“You love it.”

He set the guitar down so fast it thudded against the carpet.

In three long strides, he was across the room, dramatically tossing the blanket off me and sliding onto the sofa like a man possessed. His hands found my waist instantly, tugging me toward him as he buried his face into the crook of my neck.

“You really play dirty, you know that?” he murmured, voice rough and low.

I giggled, already breathless. “I learned from the best.”

“Is that so?” His fingers skimmed down my thigh, slow and teasing. “What else did I teach you, hm?”

I leaned back against the arm of the couch, legs draped across his lap, heart thudding against my ribs. He was warm and solid, the scent of him familiar leather, smoke, and something distinctly Eddie. His hand slid under the hem of my oversized tee, the tips of his fingers brushing my skin like he was memorising it.

“You okay?” he asked gently, his voice a notch softer.

I nodded, cheeks already flushed. “Yeah. Just… don’t rush.”

“I’d never,” he whispered. “You lead. I follow.”

And he meant it. That’s what I loved about him his patience beneath all that chaos. He might have had the swagger of a rockstar and the mouth of a sailor, but when it came to me, he was all tenderness.

I leaned forward and kissed him, slow and lingering. His hand moved up to cradle the back of my neck, deepening the kiss with just the right amount of pressure. My fingers threaded through his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan.

“You’re really not finishing that verse tonight, are you?” I murmured against his lips.

“Sweetheart, that verse never stood a chance the second you said ‘skirt.’”

I burst out laughing, head falling back against the cushions.

He kissed my throat, just under my jaw. “I love you, you know.”

“I know,” I whispered, eyes fluttering shut. “I love you too.”

The rain carried on outside, a slow, steady rhythm to match the warmth pooling between us. His hand never wandered far, always asking silently with every movement. When I shifted, guiding him closer, he followed willingly, lips finding mine again, tongue brushing over mine in a kiss that promised more.

And when things finally drifted beyond the point of return, when our kisses turned heavier, hungrier, I knew I’d never felt more wanted and more safe in anyone’s arms.

We didn’t rush. We explored. We laughed in between kisses. He whispered things that made me blush and things that made me ache in the best way. And when we finally gave in to the heat building between us, it wasn’t just physical it was everything we’d ever been.

Afterwards, we stayed tangled up in each other, limbs lazy and hearts full.

“That was…” I began, but trailed off, too happy to find the right word.

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah. It really was.”

Silence fell for a moment, broken only by the rain and the occasional sound of the wind.

“I do still want cuddles though,” I mumbled against his chest.

He kissed my forehead. “You’ll have to fight me to stop cuddling you now.”

We’d somehow migrated to the floor, still wrapped in the throw blanket, surrounded by the remnants of a half-eaten pizza and forgotten notebook pages. Eddie was drawing lazy shapes on my bare shoulder with his fingers.

“You know,” he murmured, “I’ve written songs for you in my head I haven’t even dared to put on paper yet.”

I looked up, touched. “Why not?”

“Because they’re too soft. Too much. People expect me to write about chaos and fire and... darkness.” He shrugged. “But you make me want to write about softness. Like... like clouds and sunlight and the way you smell like lavender.”

I smiled so wide my cheeks hurt.

“You can still be chaos, Eddie,” I said softly, “but I like knowing I’m your calm.”

He didn’t reply right away just pulled me tighter.

“Next time I get stuck on a verse, remind me to put my hand up your skirt. Apparently, it works wonders for inspiration.”

I swatted him playfully. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet... you still love me.”

“Completely.”

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biblical-chronicles · 3 months ago

Text

Scratches

___________________________________________

where headscratches become Liam's new favourite thing.

___________________________________________

Your flat was the unofficial second home for Liam at this point.

It wasn’t something either of you ever really acknowledged out loud. He’d just started turning up more and more — sometimes with a Tesco bag full of crisps and cans, sometimes with nothing but a half-empty crate of beer and a loud sigh as he kicked his trainers off at the door.

You didn’t mind. Most days, you even looked forward to the sound of his knock, that familiar rhythm followed by his usual greeting: “Oi, open up love, I’m dyin’ out ‘ere.”

Today wasn’t any different.

You’d barely settled in with a cuppa when the door buzzed. Liam came shuffling in, looking like he’d walked straight out of a wind tunnel, hair all over the place, jacket half-zipped, and a pout already forming.

He collapsed onto the couch dramatically. “Swear down,” he groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “This’s been the most exhaustin’ fuckin’ day of me life.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your mug down on the coffee table. “What, did you write a whole verse by yourself or summat?”

He peeked out from under his arm, lips twitching. “Cheeky. Nah, had to do one of them press things. Dead boring. Sittin’ in some shite chair for hours while they ask me about the same bollocks.”

You laughed and nudged his side with your foot. “Poor little rockstar. Life’s so hard.”

“Bet yer arse it is.” He slumped further, kicking his legs out. “This couch’s better than any hotel suite I’ve had in months. Dunno what magic you put in it.”

You settled next to him, perched right near his head. He gave a half-turn, eyes squinting up at you. “Gonna sit there and mock me, or are you gonna do summat useful?”

You grinned, brushing a bit of his fringe back. “Like what, exactly?”

He tilted his head ever so slightly into your touch, barely noticeable, but you caught it. Your fingers found their way into his hair, slow at first, testing the waters.

Liam let out a soft, involuntary sound, something between a sigh and a hum, and you bit back a smile.

“Jesus,” he mumbled, “you tryna kill me or summat?”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m not, swear down.” His voice dropped, going all lazy and loose. “Feels proper nice.”

You scratched gently at his scalp, your nails tracing lazy circles. He melted. There was no other word for it. His head sank further into your lap, limbs stretching out like a cat in the sun.

Every so often, he made these little pleased grunts, satisfied, and entirely unbothered.

“Mm, right there,” he muttered as you shifted your fingers to the base of his neck. “Don’t stop. You’ve found the spot now, haven’t ya?”

“Liam.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m bein’ grateful, love.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t stop. He was completely at your mercy now, all floppy limbs and half-lidded eyes. His breathing had gone slower, almost like he could fall asleep any second.

You’d paused for maybe five seconds then, just long enough to sip a bit of your tea, and Liam almost immidiately groaned at the loss of contact.

“Oi,” he mumbled, eyes still closed, voice all gravel and pout, “why’d you stop?”

You looked down at him, sprawled out with half his face mashed into the armrest, one foot hanging off the end of the couch like he’d been tossed there, not settled. “Jesus, you’re needy today.”

“Just today?” he muttered. “Thought you liked me like this. Soft. Tamed.”

You snorted, but your fingers found their way back into his hair anyway, dragging slow little scratches along his scalp, the kind that made his shoulders drop an inch and a barely-audible “mmph” slip out. He was trying not to react too much, you could tell, but his head was practically pressing into your lap.

“Y’know,” he said eventually, voice a little too casual to be natural, “you should start chargin’ for this. Could make a business out of it.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna be my first client?”

“I’ll be your fuckin’ billboard, me.”

You rolled your eyes, but he peeked up at you just then, half-lidded, mouth twitching with that smug, lazy smirk, and it was just… warm. He had that kind of look that didn’t ask for anything but made you want to give him everything anyway. A real pain in the arse. The kind you didn’t want to be rid of.

He let his eyes flutter shut again and let out another long, content noise when your nails found that spot at the back of his neck. Like you’d flicked a switch somewhere in him.

You kept scratching, just watching him. Watching the way his mouth parted a bit, the crease between his brows smoothing out. You were sure if you stopped again, he’d kick off like a toddler denied a biscuit, but the thought of winding him up didn’t even appeal right now.

Because — and you weren’t ready to say this out loud — he looked so sweet like this. Soft. Almost too much to look at.

And then he tilted his head into your palm again, very deliberate, eyes still shut.

“D’you reckon,” he started, lazily, “if I keep lettin’ you do that, you’ll fall in love with me or summat?”

Your fingers paused. He cracked one eye open, the corner of his mouth quirking.

“Think it might be workin’ already, if I’m honest.”

You scoffed, shoved lightly at his forehead. “Oh, fuck off.”

But your chest felt warm. And when he tipped his head to look up at you again, properly now, chin half resting on your thigh, something inside you just gave way.

You kissed him before you could stop yourself.

He blinked, stunned silent for once in his life. His hands had come up instinctively, just resting at your sides, fingers barely there.

“…Well, that’s new,” he muttered, sounding dazed.

You bit your lip, looked down at him. “Been trying not to.”

“That so?” He grinned now, not cocky, just quietly pleased.

You nodded. “You’re a bit much sometimes.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway.”

“Unfortunately.”

You both laughed, and then he leaned up again, slower this time, his lips pressing into yours like he’d finally caught his footing. After a second he tilted his head a little, deepening it without showiness, just enough to make your fingers curl in his hair again on instinct.

When you pulled back, both of you kind of just sat there for a beat. Letting it settle.

“…So you gonna keep scratchin’, or what?” he said, voice low now, almost sheepish.

You rolled your eyes. “Unbelievable.”

___________________________________________

your girl is back !! missed ya lot so much, hope that your April is unfolding well, finally getting some decent weather xx

sorry if it's a bit shite but I need to get back into the writin' groove x

#oasis x reader #oasis one shots #britpop x reader #britpop fanfiction #britpop x f!reader #oasis fanfiction #britpop fanfic #britpop x you #liam gallagher x y/n #liam gallagher x reader #liam gallagher fanfiction #liam gallagher x you #liam gallagher x f!reader #oasis fic

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arabe11as · 2 months ago

Text

Studio Sessions

warnings: nothing much just making out xx and fluff xx

Matt had invited you down to the studio while the lads were working on their fourth album, Suck It and See. You’d known them all for a while, but still, you kept to yourself—tucked into a corner, quietly watching as they ran through a few tracks. You didn’t want to get in the way, just happy to be there, soaking it all in.

One by one, the boys packed up their gear and drifted out of the studio, each offering you a casual goodbye—Jamie with a grin and a nod, Matt giving your shoulder a quick squeeze, Nick flashing a tired smile. Soon, it was just you and Alex. He was still behind the glass in the control room, hunched over a notebook, scribbling something with that familiar furrow in his brow. You stood up, slinging your bag over your shoulder, and tapped lightly on the glass to get his attention.

“I’m heading off,” you called through the small crack in the door. But instead of just waving you off, Alex looked up, held your gaze for a second, then jerked his chin in a small motion—beckoning.

“Come here a sec,” he said, voice muffled but clear, and you hesitated only a moment before slipping inside.

You walked over, weaving through stray cables and half-drunk mugs of tea, until you were standing just beside him. Alex barely looked up, still focused on the page in front of him.

“What’s up?” you asked softly.

He tapped the seat next to him. “Sit down.”

You dropped your bag and sank into the office chair. He turned the notebook around so it faced you, his handwriting messy but strangely poetic, and pointed to the title scrawled at the top: She’s Thunderstorms.

“What do you think about this?” he asked, eyes flicking up to meet yours. Then, without waiting for a reply, he started singing—quiet at first, almost to himself, but each word wrapped in that smoky, drawling tone only he could pull off.

You listened, entirely still, letting the melody wash over you. There was something electric in it—raw and a little chaotic, but delicate too.

“I love ‘She came and substituted the peace and quiet’,” you said, smiling as you echoed the line back to him. “That’s such a beautiful kind of disruption.”

He looked pleased—maybe a little proud. “Yeah?” he asked, a grin tugging at his lips. “Thought you might like that one.”

“I don’t know what to add for verse two,” Alex sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. His notebook sat open between you, pages littered with half-formed ideas and scratched-out lines. The studio had gone quiet, save for the low hum of equipment still buzzing in the background, and the occasional scribble of a pen as the two of you threw out ideas.

You leaned in, tapping your finger against the margin. “What if it’s something about how she’s stuck in your head… like, she’s always there, even when you don’t want her to be?”

Alex looked at you, intrigued. “Go on.”

You thought for a moment, then said, “‘She’s been loop-the-looping around my mind.’”

As soon as the words left your mouth, he froze. Then, slowly, a smile broke across his face—one of those rare, quiet ones that meant you’d struck gold.

“That’s brilliant,” he muttered, already jotting it down. “Loop-the-looping… that’s perfect.”

He slotted it seamlessly into the verse, saying it aloud a few times, tasting the rhythm. Then he found it—whatever he’d been chasing in the melody clicked into place, and he strummed a few chords under his breath, the line fitting like it had always belonged there.

Within an hour or two, the song was finished—front to back. You hadn’t planned to stay that long, but time slipped past unnoticed, wrapped up in the flow of ideas, shared glances, and the scribble of pens on paper. The studio lights had dimmed slightly, casting everything in a soft amber glow. Alex leaned back in his chair, reading over the final lyrics of She’s Thunderstorms, mouthing the words like he couldn’t quite believe they’d landed.

You watched him for a moment, chin propped in your hand. “So…” you began, tone laced with mischief, “who is she, then?”

Alex raised a brow. “Who?”

You gestured toward the page. “She’s Thunderstorms. Bit full-on. Sounds like an ex” You leaned in slightly, eyes teasing.

He scoffed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Alex turned to face you fully now, one arm slung over the back of your chair. “And what if it’s not about an ex?” he asked, voice low, deliberate. “What if it’s about someone else?”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Like who?”

He held your gaze, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Dunno. Someone who gets under my skin. Makes it a bit hard to concentrate. Keeps coming back even when I think I’ve written her out.”

Your breath caught slightly, but you managed a smirk. “Sounds like a nightmare. You should stop letting her write songs with you.”

Alex chuckled, eyes drifting briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. “Yeah,” he murmured, “but then I wouldn’t get lines like ‘loop-the-looping.’”

You shook your head, grinning. “Flattery won’t get you out of telling me who the girl really is.”

He leaned in just a little closer. “Maybe I’ll let you figure it out. Might take another song or two, though.”

You leaned back in your chair, still grinning from the teasing. “So… do you have a flow for it yet? Or is that where I come in and save the day again?”

Alex gave you a look—half amused, half mock-offended. “I always have a flow,” he said, reaching for the guitar that had been resting against the amp.

He adjusted it in his lap, fingers settling onto the strings like it was second nature. Then, without another word, he started playing—those first few jangly chords of She’s Thunderstorms, rich and moody, echoing through the empty studio.

The intro rolled out slowly, hypnotic, the rhythm pulling you in. He was focused now, head bowed slightly, hair falling into his face as he played. You recognized the melody immediately—it had that distinct, magnetic pull, the kind that gave you goosebumps even though you’d just helped write it.

You watched him, caught somewhere between admiration and something warmer, softer.

“Holy shit, Al, that sounds amazing,” you breathed, a wide smile breaking across your face.

He looked up from the strings, surprised but clearly pleased. “Really?”

“Yes, you idiot,” you laughed, nudging his knee with yours.

He chuckled, head ducking a little like he was trying not to let the compliment go to his head.

“Is guitar hard?” you asked, tilting your head at the instrument still cradled in his hands.

He gave a small shrug. “Hmm… depends. It’s a bit of a bastard at first, but you get used to it.”

You leaned in, eyes curious. “Can you show me?”

A slow smile crept across his face, the kind that made your stomach flutter. “Go on then,” he said, nodding. He carefully handed you the guitar, his fingers brushing yours as he did.

You tried to hold it properly, but it felt awkward and oversized in your lap. “I don’t even know how to hold it,” you muttered, adjusting it clumsily.

Alex stood, circling behind you, and before you could ask what he was doing, you felt him—warm and close at your back. His chest almost brushed your shoulders as he leaned down, arms sliding around you.

“Right, let me…” His voice was low, the Sheffield lilt thicker this close. He reached for your hands, gently repositioning your fingers on the frets. “You want your thumb here, yeah? Then these three go across like that.”

You swallowed, nodding, though you barely heard a word he said. His breath grazed your neck as he spoke, and you could feel the heat of him pressed against your back, steady and intoxicating.

“Like this?” you asked, glancing back at him slightly, your cheek nearly brushing his.

“Nearly,” he murmured, lips hovering a little too close to your ear. “You’re tense.”

“Maybe ‘cause someone’s breathing down my neck,” you teased, pulse picking up.

He laughed, the sound low and rich. “What, this?” he said, blowing a gentle puff of air just under your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

You turned your head, your noses almost touching now. “You’re such a dick,” you whispered, grinning.

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes flicking between yours and your lips. “But you love it.”

The guitar rested forgotten in your lap, your fingers still frozen in place—his hands lingering a second longer than necessary. The air between you felt electric, charged with something that hadn’t quite tipped over the edge… yet.

Alex’s hands guided yours again, this time moving your fingers into a simple chord shape. His touch was light but deliberate, and the closeness of him made it impossible to focus on anything except the rhythm of your breathing.

“Alright,” he murmured, “press down there—yeah, just like that. Now strum it.”

You did as he said, the sound that came out surprisingly clean. You looked up at him in disbelief.

He grinned, eyes gleaming with approval. “There you go. Good girl.”

You paused, blinking. Then slowly turned your head to look up at him over your shoulder, a coy smile forming on your lips. “Really?” you giggled, raising a brow.

He pulled back just slightly, that smirk never leaving his face. “What? I’m just giving you a compliment.”

“Mmm,” you hummed playfully, twisting around more fully to face him. “Bit of a loaded compliment, that.”

“Only if you want it to be,” he said, eyes flicking to your mouth again.

For a beat, neither of you said anything. The air between you was thick, humming with unspoken tension, and the grin slowly faded from both your faces—replaced with something softer, heavier.

You turned toward him, knees brushing as you shifted in your seat, the guitar slipping slightly off your lap. His hands stayed at your sides, not quite touching, as if waiting for permission.

“I do want it to be,” you said quietly.

That was all it took.

Alex leaned in, closing the last inch between you, and kissed you—slow and warm, but confident, like he’d been thinking about it for a long time. His hand slid gently up the side of your neck, fingers curling into your hair, and you kissed him back without hesitation.

You stood up, lips still locked with his, barely breaking the kiss as you bent down blindly and moved the guitar out of the way, setting it gently beside the chair. Alex’s hands found your waist the moment you were upright again, tugging you closer until there was no space left between you.

His mouth trailed briefly from your lips to the edge of your jaw, then back again, like he couldn’t get enough. You let out a soft laugh against him, fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him deeper.

Then, in one smooth, impulsive motion, he spun you slightly and walked you backwards until your lower back bumped against the edge of a table cluttered with notebooks and stray picks.

“Up,” he said, voice low and breathless.

You barely had time to smirk before he gripped your hips and lifted you onto it, pushing aside the scattered papers with a careless sweep of his arm. His mouth was back on yours before you could say a word, hot and urgent now, his hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to grip the bare skin at your waist.

You wrapped your legs loosely around him, tugging him closer as he pressed himself against you, the tension that had been building between you both finally snapping loose.

His lips were everywhere—trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, teeth grazing your skin just enough to make your breath hitch. You felt him pressed hard against you, the table creaking slightly beneath your weight as his hands roamed up under your shirt, fingertips teasing your bare waist.

“Fuck, Alex,” you exhaled, your head falling back slightly as a soft moan slipped out.

“If I could,” he murmured against your throat, voice rough and dripping with want, “I’d have you right here.”

Your heart pounded as he kissed you again and again, every touch lighting you up. “Then have me,” you breathed, eyes half-lidded, your hands already tugging at the hem of his shirt.

But before he could make a move—before he could even lift your top—

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, guys!”

The voice cut through the haze like a brick through glass. You both froze.

Your head whipped around just in time to see Matt standing in the doorway, holding a forgotten jacket and looking thoroughly appalled. “This is a studio, not a bloody shag pad!”

You jumped down from the table like it had burned you, cheeks flushed, hastily adjusting your shirt. Alex stepped back, rubbing a hand over his face, trying and failing to hide a smirk.

“Christ, Matt, do you knock?” he muttered.

“It’s my studio too, you tosser!” Matt fired back, eyes wide with disbelief. “I was coming back for my jacket, not a live porno.”

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing, even through the embarrassment. Alex grinned at you, then shot Matt a lazy look.

“Well,” he said, shrugging as he picked up his guitar from the floor, “guess we’ll save the encore for another time.”

Matt groaned. “I need a bleach bath for my eyes.”

You looked at Alex, still catching your breath, still flushed and a little dazed. He leaned in close, voice low in your ear.

“next time”

#alex turner #arctic monkeys #alex turner fluff #alex turner smut #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n

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