#all the people who hated on this pairing for no reason have nothing to stand on LOL
i was fucking right about spamton stealing the leitmotif in the breakup
DATE: JANUARY 14, 2023
summary: flash forces peter to sneak into the girls sorority and steal a pair of panties as a dare. stumbling into the nearest room to save himself from being caught, he doesn’t expect you to be there, and to let him steal the panties you’re wearing.
warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, oral], praise kink, slight dacryphilia kink, dirty talk, and protected sex), language, alcohol, mentions of weed, and a bit of fluff.
note: frat!peter x sorority!reader / peter masterlist / PART 2
“are you serious right now, flash?” peter groans with a pinch to his nose. his eyes screw shut in annoyance at flash’s obnoxious behavior.
“of course i am, penis parker!” flash shouts, shoving peter towards the large, white sorority house. “you have to do the dare or else.”
peter groans again, hating himself for ever agreeing to do this stupid game with flash.
the night had started calm and for once, peter was grateful. friday nights were the craziest day at the frat house, but this week, everyone was a bit too busy with schoolwork. except flash apparently.
like all of his other roomies, peter loves a good party. he doesn’t mind thrashing his house every week if that means he can have fantastic parties at his place (okay, maybe he minds a little bit. it gets tedious cleaning up garbage after a while). he knows he won’t be young forever, so what the heck, right?
people never would have guessed that peter was the leader of the frat. shocking, right? everyone would assume it’s flash for his obnoxious and party boy persona or brad for his attractiveness and charm. but what do those qualities have to do with being a leader? everyone else (besides those two) agreed that peter should be the head of the house because he is responsible and smart, unlike those boneheads.
peter often asked himself if he was attractive and if he had charm.
he did, right?
brad was good with the ladies. one glance and a wink made the girls melt into puddles at his feet. every morning when peter woke up early to go to class, a different woman would waltz down the stairs with a glowing, uncontrollable smile in nothing but a t-shirt. peter knew without a doubt that every one-night stand that stumbled down was brad’s; it was rarely flash or the others and ned had a girlfriend who was in the sorority across from us.
peter hooked-up once in a while. he found it more difficult to be like brad when he had college to concentrate on and lives to save inbetween it all. being spider-man in high school was overwhelming at first because it was impossibly hard to hide it. but now, having more freedom in college made everything a bit simpler. just a bit.
flash being spider-man’s “#1 fan!” still made him chuckle every time it came up.
speaking of flash, when peter stumbled through the door in the evening expecting a chill friday night, flash just had to crank up the energy. as per usual.
“what is this?” multiple bottles of liquor were splurged across the dining table when peter walked into the kitchen. flash crossed his arms with a huge smirk plastered onto his face, while ned looked concerned and stressed.
“i tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen to me,” ned shook his head in disappointment before walking away to his room.
“we’re having a party. it’s friday, penis,” flash said with an obvious tone. peter could easily have him removed from the frat, being the leader and all. yet he still keeps him here. why must he do this to himself?
“flash, i said no parties today. everyone is tired and stressed, and has a lot of work to do—”
“stressed? i think that’s the best reason for a party. you need to get laid, my brotha,” brad interrupted with an arm around peter’s shoulders and a firm pat to his buff chest. brad is way taller than peter, which some might think intimidates him. but peter is mainly intimidated by intelligence, and brad had the iq of a stick.
peter rolled his eyes at the predictable statement. flash rambles on about how parties are a tradition on friday nights and peter sharply cuts him off with a strict tone.
“ugh, fine! no party, party-pooper parker. but we will be drinking tonight. or else i’m sending an invite to 50 people.”
peter had no choice but to comply. flash, ned, brad, himself, and the other boys are seated on the furniture with the drinks displaced in the center. flash gave peter an ultimatum; play truth or dare or he rings the entire sports program of a party. peter growled and folded.
soon later, there is a sharpie drawing on flash’s ass, a ruler that measured brad’s dick, a flushed ned from downing too many denied truth shots, and laughter bubbling throughout the whole room. peter is the only one who hasn’t gotten asked anything yet and he honestly feels a bit left out. but he also just wants to do his homework and then go to sleep.
“what’ll be, penis parker?” flash inquires with a mischievous look on his face. “truth or dare? or should i say drink or dare?”
peter, not caring at the time, chose dare. “dare.”
“oh, you’re so in for it.”
so in all, peter was basically held against his own will to sneak into the girl’s sorority house. even though he denied the dare profusely and took three shots to make up for it, flash still dangled the party invites over his head like an iron weight waiting to drop.
peter snarled as flash nudged him again impatiently. he thought of an idea that might work. peter would have to do this dare, but would he have to do it alone?
“if you come with me, i’ll give you $50 bucks—” peter sells with raised eyebrows. he licks his lips as the cold breeze rustles the trees and sends slight shivers up his arms. the sky is pitch-black as the heavy clouds cover all the stars. peter felt a storm brewing and he really didn’t want to sneak into the sorority soaking wet.
“pfft, parker, please. i have enough money—”
“—in weed.” peter finishes, causing flash to halt his words. peter knows that flash can never find a good supply because he complains about it all the time. marijuana wasn’t legal on campus, let alone in the state. the trade had the cogs turning in flash’s head.
“alright, deal,” flash gives in and elbows peter as a form of agreement. then flash motivates brad and ned to join, heading straight for the zone as a group.
their goal was to grab a pair of underwear and leave without being caught. as spider-man, that should be easy, right?
for some odd reason, the back door was unlocked. you’d think girls would be more secure and observant than guys, but maybe they forgot. after hopping over the trimmed gardening hedges, the four boys crept through the door and into the kitchen.
unlike peter’s frat, the sorority girls had two big rules that they made known to everyone; no hook-ups allowed and no frat guys. ever. the girls didn’t throw parties like peter, they only went to them, so their place was like a holy sanctuary.
when the guys tiptoed into the kitchen, peter wasn’t surprised the place was damn-near spotless. most of the interior was pearly white; couches, love-seats, tables, counter, cabinets— it was like walking into an insane asylum with minor color accents.
it was at least midnight by now, so the girls had to be asleep. tiptoeing as silent as possible up the stairs, peter leads until they’re all standing in the middle of the large hallway with rapid, contained breaths. flash, being the scaredy-cat he is, follows last and nervously trips over the final step. he slips, tumbling down multiple levels with nosy thuds and bangs of his elbows and knees. all of the guys sprout wide eyes and strained, silent gestures to warn him to stop falling and making an absurd amount of noise.
peter gets goosebumps, hair rising on his skin as he gets a shiver down his spine. his hearing intensifies, picking up mumbled whispers and light footsteps with his spider sense. his eyes wander frantically as he scatters his brain for an idea. nothing comes to mind fast enough, as a door down the hall creaks open. brad and ned drag flash up the stairs, but freeze when they hear the door. out of instinct, peter sprints to the nearest door, slyly slipping inside. he closes the door gently, contradicting the pounding of his heart, without a noise being made. he releases a sigh as his forehead rests on the doorframe.
“what are you doing?” peter nearly shrieks when you casually question him. he stares at you, eyes impossibly wider than before. your arms are crossed as you sit on the side of your bed. peter swallows harshly, gazing at your appearance.
your legs look smooth and supple, and very much bare. he assumes you have underwear on under the t-shirt you’re sporting, and is proved correct when you shift to dangle your legs off the bed. his eyes are drawn to the small sight of your panties that tease underneath your shirt. you smirk, arms still crossed as you let him check you out.
“i-um-uh,” cheeks wildly red, he swallows and averts his eyes to the ground. how does he explain such a stupid thing without sounding like a jackass? i was dared to invade the sorority house. sorry. oh, also, can i have your panties? “it was a dare.”
“to sneak into my room?” your head tilts as you lift yourself off the bed and stalk towards him. peter’s cheeks grow redder while his heart pounds brutally in his chest.
besides the embarrassment flowing like blood through his veins, you were the simple kind of gorgeous that made his knees weak. the kind that is stunning in their own skin and that radiates beautiful energy like magical fairy dust. and peter nearly fainted when he saw your lack of clothes.
he’s seen you many times before; you share a class with him and came to some of his parties. he never talked to you in fear of rejection, but now he doesn’t really have a choice.
usually, he has more confidence with girls, but this is a very unfortunate situation where he lost every skill he’s ever known. even talking.
“no—” ear-piercing screams interrupt peter’s stuttering from the other side of the door. footsteps run all over the wooden floor as low profanities leave the guys’ mouths. “i think she found them.”
“you think?” you clip with raised eyebrows. peter inhales, losing some of his anxiousness at his thoughts of the boys being caught.
poor ned. betty’s going to kill him.
flash deserved it, though.
brad is probably getting one of their numbers.
peter shakes his head and sets his thoughts straight.
“okay, look. flash dared me to do this… stupid thing and i convinced them all to do it with me. i wanted to do nothing but relax tonight,” peter admits with a stressed exhale. you glare at him with squinted eyes, trying to decipher what has him so worked up. it’s not like he got screamed at and kicked out like the other guys. knowing some of your roomies, they might be a lot worse than just kicking them out. you get closer to him and ponder what he said.
“what was the dare, parker?” you shoot a harsh glare at him, daggers that force him to answer. your head tilts with curiosity as your heartbeats sporadically. you’ve never had a guy in your room before, and for that first guy to be peter parker has your heart bouncing around your chest like a boomerang. you’ve had your eye on peter for a few months now; not crazy obsessive, but you won’t deny the blood-rushing crush you’ve grown for the frat boy.
how did you stumble that low? a frat boy? jeez.
peter can’t be too shocked that you know his name, let alone his last name, but you saying it still causes him to forget some of the words on his tongue. many shouts are heard from outside the door, but your chests are nearly touching as you gaze up at him and then the outside world is practically silenced.
“i had to steal some… panties,” he mumbles, voice low and quiet. why does it sound so dirty?
“panties?” you repeat in a hushed voice as your surprised eyes blink a few times. you swallow, clit beginning to throb at the word out of his mouth.
“yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “do you have any that i can…borrow?”
your mind hazes at his question. you tried to remember where your underwear was and if it was clean. but as a clear opportunity lies in front of you, you decide to run with it. you look down with a racing heart, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt.
“i…i have these ones,” you lightly ball up your t-shirt, revealing your laced panties to peter. he quietly coughs, cock starting to harden behind the zipper of his jeans. you glance up at his reddening expression through your eyelashes, devilish eyes hiding behind an innocent facade. confidence and lust ease your anxiety. “will these work?”
“um, yeah,” peter coughs again as rosy embarrassment crawls up his neck and blood rushes to his cock. you strut over to the mattress, rocking your hips teasingly, and peter instinctively follows with his heart in his throat. you lie on your back and spread your legs, arousal dripping from you at every movement. peter watches from a side angle, holding his breath as the tension rises.
“well, you’re not much of a panty-stealer if i just give them to you. come and steal them, parker,” you say with as much confidence as you could muster up. your heart was so loud in your ears you almost couldn’t hear yourself. speechless, peter walks to the front of the bed and kneels down, eye-level with your pussy.
he crumples the shirt over your hips, your legs automatically spreading wider. his senses heighten and pick up on the scent of your arousal. a small patch of it can be seen in the middle of your underwear, sending painful pulses down to his forever hardening cock. his thumbs dance around the laced hem, teasing you to see how much he can go.
he would say some of his confidence is back now.
he hooks his fingers under the band, sliding the flimsy fabric down while sticky arousal slings to you. he stuffs the damp material in his back pocket. both of your hearts rack and hands tremble at the extreme intensity, waiting for someone to do something. anything.
peter decides to be that person and resumes his fingers to your hips where the hem used to be. your folds glisten with pent-up arousal, just begging for him to touch you. your puffy clit throbs, neglected, and your thighs subtly spasm trying to remain open. peter grinds on his molars, nearly moaning at the glorious sight. his rough pads trace your smooth skin as he drags lower, dangerously close to where you’re yearning for him.
“peter,” you whisper, holding your breath, so you don’t move a muscle, even though they’re involuntarily shaking with need. he hums, the dirtiest thoughts flowing through his mind. “d-don’t you have to go? what if you get caught?”
“i can spare a few minutes…” his gaze is hazy and distracted, voice gravelly with lust. you clench desperately around nothing as you quietly plead for him to do something. his thumb tests the waters and finally begins circling on your clit, sending electricity up your body. you yelp at the sudden pressure, naturally grinding your hips for more friction. “hmm? don’t you want me to spend a few minutes with you?
his words are taunting and condescending, making your mind go blurry while the words disintegrate from your tongue. the rough pad of his thumb rubs faster while you clench around nothing again, chest heaving.
“i want more than a few minutes,” you moan as his middle finger pets along your soaking slit, teasing you painfully until your eyes roll back. you can sense the smirk growing on his face based on the satisfied hum he responds with.
“more? greedy girl,” peter slides his middle finger into you without warning causing you to release a long string of moans. “shh, you don’t want them to hear you, do you? then we’ll both get caught.”
you shake your head.
“then be a good girl and be quiet for me,” peter demands softly. you nod shakily, as another finger pumps into you rapidly. he thrusts brutally into you, fingertips brushing over your g-spot. you melt as bliss laces throughout your body.
“it’s always the quiet ones who are the loudest,” a devilish and dirty smirk dances on his lips while your teeth sink painfully into your bottom lip. you slap your palm over your mouth to remain quiet as thrilled moans threaten to pour out of you. your revolving hips are halted by his strong forearm, allowing him to curl his digits deliciously into you. you mewl with screwed eyes, back arching at the immense pleasure.
“i’m so close, peter,” you whisper, scared that if you speak any louder your moans will betray you and alert the whole neighborhood. peter subtly grinds his hips into the front of the mattress, cock dangerously hard from your whimpering and whining.
“can i taste you? been dying to since you opened your legs for me,” peter asks while your thighs tremble and your pussy contracts tightly around his digits. you mumble out a shuddery please before his mouth is devouring you.
he never removes his fingers, pumping ruthlessly while his mouth explores your slippery folds. he sucks harshly on your throbbing clit, a muffled wail escaping through your hand. warm and soothing, his tongue glides curiously and sneaks into your undeniably soft cunt. the moan you release is unholy and way too loud. at least right now.
peter wants nothing more than to hear your sweet, sweet moans crying his name while he makes you come in several different ways. but tonight was not the night. he wasn’t trying to get reported and have intruder as a new notch on his belt.
he had a good feeling you wouldn’t run off and report him though.
the idea of it all got him off much more than he would have ever thought. and looking at you, he could say that same.
his mouth plops off of you, lips swollen and puffy from sucking.
“come all over my tongue. let me taste you, sweet girl,” his tone is euphonious and seductive, yet demanding. his fingers savagely thrust into your seeping hole that clenches tightly around him. your back arches off the mattress as your thighs shake from the upcoming euphoria.
peter’s words send your body into overdrive. your muscles contract and your stomach tightens as your orgasm ripples through your body like a heavenly wave. cum oozes out of you and onto his tongue, slurping up every ounce of your juices until there is nothing left.
“such a good girl,” peter praises while he licks away your arousal from his rosy lips. heat crawls up your neck at your sudden vulnerability. you attempt to close your legs to hide, but he keeps them spread with his rough hands. “you’re going to hide yourself after i just ate you out? we’re just getting started, baby.”
peter pulls his shirt off deliberately, showcasing his bulky abs and muscles that made your clit pulse with desire again. he looks like he was man-made, a real-life sculpture with chiseled muscles and perfectly ridged abs. you were insatiable to this man, who snuck into your room to steal something— you should be mad at him. furious. but when his boxers fall down his legs, only dirty and needy emotions and thoughts are left.
your eyes widen at his impressive length; you’ve only been with a few guys in the past, but none of them were this big. you were scared, yet excited to feel his cock stretch you out sinfully. you imagined how long you would feel him inside of you afterwards, soreness like a good workout at the gym.
“you’re so big,” you mumble, not hiding the fact that you were blatantly eyeing his raging cock with hunger, fear, and lust.
“it’ll fit. don’t worry, doll,” he hovers over you, smoothing your hair away from your worried eyes. “do you have a condom?”
you stretch out your arm into your night stand, blindly grabbing a tin-foiled package. you seductively rip it with your teeth, causing peter to groan in impatience. he snatches it away from you and swiftly slides it onto his sturdy cock.
“such a fucking tease,” he hisses, running the tip of his cock along your folds, which were already soaked in arousal again. “are you ready?”
you nod your head surely, more than ready for him to fill you up.
“you’re one to talk,” you sass, rolling your eyes, which were no longer as worried, but full of needy anticipation. he huffs out a single chuckle, eyes strained on his dick rubbing around your wetness tediously.
“speaking of talking, don’t,” peter thrusts into you savagely, making you gasp and shriek. your hand immediately goes to his shoulder for leverage, nails digging desperately into the meat of his skin. the other tightens securely onto your mouth to keep quiet, even though it’s probably useless now.
hoarse profanities fall from his lips as he shifts around your snug hole. your velvety walls choke his cock so fucking good, he doesn’t think he’ll last any longer. and then you clench even tighter around him, sending peter’s eyes rolling back into brain.
“you’re so fucking tight,” peter groans in your ear, flicking his hips upwards into you. your body trembles in overwhelming pleasure, muffled whines begging to be released.
slapping skin and hushed moans fill the air. peter fits a hand between the two of you and rubs your throbbing clit perfectly. his lips travel down from your ear to your neck, kissing along your skin. his tongue discovers your soft spot, sucking harshly until you’re clutching onto him for dear life.
“you’re so good, peter. so deep, too, oh god,” you can’t help the lusty wail that tumbles from your raspy throat when he rapidly rolls his hips, repeatedly touching your sensitive g-spot. he growls at the praise, every action being intensified by the comment. you notice this and smile with a hint of devilishness behind it.
“you may be smiling now,” peter pants, muscles popping and flexing from the position. “but you’ll be crying soon.”
if possible, his thrusts got harder. and deeper. and faster. he was pounding into your cunt like there was no tomorrow, buckets of arousal leaking from you and all around him. peter would pull his cock fully out just to slam it back in, and it made you wither away into another dimension. his balls beat against you harshly with every brisk thrust of his body. his skilled thumb pets your clit, electrifying all your nerves into blissful flames.
there was so much to feel; the biting of his kisses on your neck, the rough texture of his thumb pad on your clit, the long, thick length plunging barbarically into you, and the heaviness of his weight above you. you were so overwhelmed by the pleasure, water brimmed at your tear ducts. soon, full-blown tears are streaming down your face from the euphoria running through your veins.
that familiar wicked smile curls on peter’s face with your appearance; wild hair, tear-stained cheeks, and swollen lips. he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked so beautiful in front of him.
his cock twitches when you whimper loudly underneath the palm of your hand, begging to let you come. contracting on his shaft, your nails stab his shoulder blade until crescent moon marks appear. a strangled moan leaves him when your body rolls up towards him, back arching harshly.
“need to come. so bad, peter,” you whine. his name from your lips drives him mental.
“fuck, y/n,” he sighs heavily. “come around my cock like the good girl you are.”
with those words, your second orgasm tumbles through your body like a thunderstorm. peter slams his lips against yours to keep you quiet, all your pent-up moans turning into needy hums in your throat. stars spot in your vision and you thought you might pass out from being fucked into oblivion. you wouldn’t even be mad— it was worth it.
summoning all your energy, your muscles tense as the liquid floods out of you. your back arches, making your bare breasts push up against peter’s chest. at the same time, peter comes with a string of curse words against your plush lips. he shoots his load into the condom, balls tightening while his eyes screw shut. he steadies his pumps and slowly pulls out of you, never wanting to leave.
you whimper at the emptiness, already missing his cock. he ties the knot and tosses it into the garbage under your desk. peter slips into his boxers and immediately finds the small box of tissues on your night stand. grabbing a few, he cleans you delicately like an antique doll as if he didn’t just ravish your body and soul.
you were beyond dumbstruck as he wiped you up. the few people you have been with never stayed long enough for aftercare, and even though it should be a necessity, the action still made your heart lurch for peter. speaking of your heart, it was beating a mile a minute. sex was a physical activity, yet having a huge crush on someone felt a lot more physically demanding. but you really liked the feeling.
a million thoughts brisked through your head; how does he feel? does he feel the same? did he hate it? did he love it? you shake your head. if you didn’t stop yourself, you would ruin any chance you might have by overthinking too much.
when you refocus your eyes to the moment, peter has his jeans fully on and his shirt in his hand. he slides it on and then looks at you worryingly, seeming as though you’re still naked and haven’t moved.
“are you okay? did i go too hard? fuck—”
“yes—i mean no! shit,” you stutter after interrupting him and close your eyes in embarrassment. “yes, i’m fine. i’m more than fine. that was… really good, peter. like really good.”
peter’s tensed shoulders relax as his face melts from a concerned expression to a soft one. you slip your large t-shirt on and stand up from your bed. your legs are a bit unbalanced and wobbly, and peter can’t help but chuckle as he holds you steady by your hips.
“stop laughing! you did this!” you whisper-yell with a faked angry face.
“oh, i know. next time, i’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk, let alone stand,” he winks with an arrogant smile cascading his lips. familiar heat creeps up your neck and ears, making you all tingly inside at the idea of a next time with peter.
“next time?” large rings of hope surround your irises as you stare into peter’s. his arrogance slightly fades as he itches with nervousness.
“yeah, if that’s what you want, of course,” why is he holding his breath? why is his heart beating so unhealthy fast?
“if i say yes, does that mean you’re going to try to steal my panties again?” you try to hold back your grin as you joke, peering up at him with squinted eyes.
“are you going to let me steal your panties again?” he clicks his tongue with his all too familiar smirk. he loves your playful demeanor and your attempts to withhold a smile.
you pretend to think, really debating. peter can’t help but stare at you in awe. you were beautiful, and he regrets not approaching you earlier because you were… well, he didn’t really know you yet, but he wouldn’t mind getting to know you better. even if you told him to fuck off and never to see him again, he knew that he would never forget you or this night.
you push yourself closer to peter, chest to chest. you can both feel the rapid beating of your hearts through your shirts. however, you stand, gazing confidently at peter. he watches you as you lean right in like you were going to kiss him.
“mm maybe. you might just have to find out yourself,” your breathy words linger on his lips as you back away and casually get into the bed. you unfold the comforter and tuck yourself in, like you didn’t just give peter a semi-hard on in his pants.
suddenly a loud crash is heard from outside, alerting both of your heads to peer out through the window.
“my car!” flash cries so high-pitched and whiny, he probably woke up the entire neighborhood. peter isn’t surprised that one of the sorority girls destroyed his car because he deserved it. someone needed to humble him anyway. you both laugh behind the palm of your hands at flash’s girly scream.
with that, peter realizes that he has to go and that he no longer has any minutes to spare. flash, brad, and ned probably weren’t worried about peter while they were out-running the girls. but now that the girls had done the damage, the boys would soon realize peter’s absence.
“better hide your panties. this isn’t over,” peter walks over to the side of your bed and kisses your forehead delicately. he cracks open the window, turning to you with half his body out. with a wink from him and a gasp from you, he jumps down the two-story window without hesitation. your heart flutters at his gentle kiss that lingers on your skin, fingers pressed against the spot his lips last touched.
rain begins to splash on the glass as sprinkles of water drip into your room through the open window. you purposefully don’t close it, even when you know the carpet will get soaked throughout the night. you welcomed the idea that if peter wanted to come back, he could, simply by sneaking through the window the same way he left.
so many other thoughts cloud your mind, making you lie wide awake. you wondered if his heart was still thumping hastily like the rain pattering on your window and onto your floor. you wondered what he looked like when he was drenched in natural rain water. probably breathtakingly beautiful; soaking wet hair and a childish smile adorning his rosy face while he laughs wholeheartedly.
as you roll over to turn off your lamp with a wistful sigh, you remember that you never even got his number. while trying to guess which set of numbers fit peter parker the best, you fall asleep with a yearning heart, flapping its wings adoringly in your chest.
oh, god, you were down. and it was bad.
what you didn’t know was that peter was down too, but even worse than you.
𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐜𝐚𝐭 𝐠𝐟 | 𝐚𝐥𝟏𝟐
summary… arthur is dating someone and his fans don’t like it
request… yes but it’s for the og arthur girlie
faceclaim… xowie jones
pairing… arthur leclerc x reader
note… @coffeehurricanes have been begging me to make something for arthur since forever and i finally caved
liked by arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl and others
yourusername my “that’s her” pictures but it’s the pics my bf showed his mum
view all comments…
user1 girlie this isn’t something to be proud of
user2 she’s so cool and different and quirky and not like other girls !!!!!!!!!! do you want a cookie or sumthing?
lorenzotl can confirm! 😂
⤷ yourusername you loved me the moment you saw me, admit it
⤷ lorenzotl i admit it!
charles_leclerc maman nearly had a heart attack!!
⤷ yourusername then i became her fav 🤭
⤷ user7 pascale prolly can’t stand this bitch
user3 nah bc what the hell does she have on the leclerc brothers bc no way they genuinely like her dating arthur
arthur_leclerc and i wouldn’t have it any other way ❤️
⤷ yourusername idiot
⤷ arthur_leclerc *your* idiot
⤷ user4 arthur was being sweet and this bitch just insults him for no reason
⤷ user5 arthur blink twice if you’re being held captive
user6 so many jealous and mad bitches in this comment section. not so gentle reminder for yall that he’ll never date you in any universe lol
♡ liked by arthur_leclerc, charles_leclerc and 203 others
liked by yourusername, pascale_leclerc and others
arthur_leclerc my beautiful, beautiful girl ❤️
view all comments…
user1 is the beautiful beautiful girl in the room with us?
user2 arthur wear red next weekend if she’s holding a gun to your head
user3 i could be a better girlfriend than her
yourusername i’ll always save my last chicken nuggy for you, mi amore
⤷ arthur_leclerc you must really love me 😌
⤷ yourusername don’t push it
⤷ user4 she just has to ruin every sweet moment
charles_leclerc really mate?
⤷ yourusername if you’re jealous, close your eyes
⤷ user8 girl what does charles have to be jealous about
user5 why do we even hate her? like has she done anything worth hating her for? or is it just bc she looks a little different than what’s considered as conventional and happened to be dating your white boy of the month?
⤷ user6 i think she’s really a bad influence on arthur and she publicly argues with a lot of people on twitter
⤷ user5 doesn’t she only argue with people who say shit abt arthur? i mean why isn’t she not allowed to defend her bf? also where’s your proof abt her being a bad influence on arthur
⤷ user7 bitches real quiet cause they’ve got nothing to use
liked by charles_leclerc, lorenzotl, and others
arthur_leclerc i’ve let this go on long enough and now she’s gotten hurt. i have no words to express how disappointed i am of everyone who has ever said anything against y/n for no reason other than she is with me. she has done nothing to deserve the bullying she gets and yet she does nothing to any of you.
any hate i see about her will be automatically blocked. i would rather have no fans at all than have fans who can’t respect the woman i intend to spend my life with.
and if anyone do anything to her physically, i will retaliate worse than i did today. this is a warning.
and to @yourusername i’ve failed you, baby. i sat back and watch everyone bully you telling you to just ignore it all and you didn’t deserve that. i will spend the rest of my life making up to you.
view all comments…
charles_leclerc i am so proud of you for taking a stand, brother. y/n does not deserve any of this
lorenzotl fully behind the two of you 🤍
user1 arthur has had enough on all of your bullshits and it’s time yall knew it
user2 he let yall know he’s not afraid to throw hands
user3 where yall loud mouthed ass bitches now????
yourusername i love you more than words
⤷ arthur_leclerc i will love you better now, baby
user4 it’s always seemed so fucking stupid how much hates she gets for literally no reason
I like me better when I am with you
Pairing - Bucky Barnes x f!reader
Summary - Bucky isn't in love with you, nope, not at all, not even a bit, that doesn't mean he has to like that man who is shamelessly drooling over you.
Warnings - Fluff, Bucky’s internal thoughts, jealousy
Word count - 2.8k
a/n - I had so much fun writing this.
Bucky’s internal monologue is in italic.
Stark parties were his least favourite. They always consisted of the same kind of people. Bucky didn't have to remember their faces to know that. They were all the same. Rich people with money much more than they could handle, spend it in the worst and the dumbest way possible. No, really, why the hell would they get their already filthy expensive phone coated with gold? And don't even get him started on when he had heard a man complaining that Tony hadn't put 'perfectly squared ice cubes' worth 300$ each in their drinks. Hell, he had somehow started respecting Tony's choices and that man was currently wearing a 100,000$ suit.
But these parties were never this unbearable. He always used to have company. He still has Steve sitting beside him and don't get him wrong, Steve is his best friend but there's a limit as to how much Bucky can hear that man complain about the new recruits.
"Can't believe Tony was able to do that. That man has got brains. Only if he was not so arrogant. Don't you think, Buck?"
His name slipping from Steve's mouth makes him look at his best friend who has been talking to him for .... well, a long time. He didn't even know when he switched topics.
Bucky never really zones out. He is a great listener but today, something else has caught his attention completely. Something which keeps bugging him and he doesn't even understand why.
Steve sighs as he realises just how much his best friend has been listening to him. "You know, Sam is right, you do have a staring problem."
"No, I don't," Bucky says in a way that makes it look like that's the most absurd and offensive thing he has ever heard.
Steve chuckles and says, "You don't have to sit here and pretend that it doesn't hurt you."
Bucky gives out a sarcastic chuckle. After everything he has been through, there is nothing in a hundred-mile radius of this party that could remotely hurt him. "I am just fine, Steve. Why would I be hurt?" He doesn't say he is good, or great, he says 'just fine' 'cause that's his default setting. To be just fine. He is rarely ever more than that.
No, you are, when you are with her. His inner thoughts whisper to him.
He shakes his head to get that thought away as if it had offended him too.
Steve gives him a small smile and nods his head towards a direction that Bucky has been not so subtly staring at for the past half an hour.
And there you are. In all your glory. In the beautiful, simple, golden outfit you are wearing, sipping on your drink in the most gentle way possible. The colour golden suits you, Bucky thinks.
That's what you said when she was wearing blue.
A person can look good in 2 colours.
Then what about green and -
He looks at you again and notices the thing that has been bugging him. You're still talking to him. The man with the too smooth suit and the too silky hair and the too gentle words and the - ... God, he hates that man. And he has reasons for it. Who the hell wears a black tie with a black suit? Doesn't he have any other colour to wear? And who the hell drinks non-alcoholic drinks when at a Stark party? And then Bucky remembers you telling him once that you hated the smell of alcohol. That you couldn't stand within a metre radius of the people who had drunk a lot. But, that man doesn't know that.
You are still smiling at him and talking. But, that's okay. You love to talk. You could spend hours talking about the movie you just saw or the book you just read. That's nothing. And smiling, well you smile at everything. That's your default setting. To find beauty in everything and give it the most beautiful and genuine smile he has ever seen. You can really find the good in everything.
Maybe that's why she is friends with you.
That's not the point. You even smile at strays. And that's who the man is, a stray, a wild, animal.
Cannot be wilder than you. Or did you forget who you are, Buck?
Bucky doesn't like these thoughts. They tend to come back to him in crowded places. When there are too many people staring at him, talking about him. You always used to be there with him. Making fun of all these rich people and their etiquette.
The both of you would mostly escape from the party early, especially when you were done with what you actually came here for, which was always food. He had to agree. Tony did know how to throw a good party.
You would sneak him into the mini theatre and would watch the silliest movies, just to laugh at their absurdity. Or you would just take him to the roof and the both of you sat there, stargazing and talking. You were really a good friend of his.
Friend? Friends don't glare holes into the back of the man they're just talking to.
This man had approached you at the start of the party and hadn't left your side. Clingy.
Rich, coming from you.
You didn't owe Bucky anything. You didn't sign a contract that you had to spend all these parties with him. No, it wasn't any of that. That doesn't mean it couldn't hurt.
"Buck, why don't you just tell her?"
For a second, Bucky is taken aback. He had completely forgotten that Steve was still sitting there. What had happened to his super soldier skills?
Too busy gaping at her
I remember asking you to shut up
And I remember telling you not to fall in love with her
Bucky clears his throat at the last comment by his inner conscience. Sometimes, it acted weird.
"Tell who, what, Steve?" Bucky feigns nonchalance as if he has no idea what Steve is talking about.
Steve chuckles. "How many hers do you have in your life, Buck?"
Noone. Just her.
Bucky is sure he is going crazy. Maybe he has had too much to drink.
You haven't touched alcohol. Oh, I wonder why that is.
"I know many people who use that pronoun, punk. Nat, Wanda, Sharon, Maria, many shield agents, Carol, oh and yeah... y/n. You have to be more specific"
"Fine, I will be more specific. How many 'hers' do you stare at?"
"None." He replies, a little too fast and Steve gives him a knowing smirk.
And there it goes...
"I am not staring at anyone, Steve." He gives him a pointed look.
"Whatever sails your boat, Buck. But I'd recommend talking to her before it's too late."
Before it's too late
That sentence echoes in his ears. He didn't want to lose you. Not to the annoying guy who had still not left your side, not to the shield agent who always insisted on training with you whenever he got the chance, not to anyone. He didn't want to lose you. Never.
How can you lose someone who isn't even yours?
This time his inner voice is gentle, pleading as if it is silently begging him to do something.
Before he even knows what he's doing, Bucky is out of his chair and walking towards the bar.
You chuckle at something the man says before you notice Bucky walking towards the both of you and your smile gets wider.
"Hey, doll." He greets you, completely ignoring the man standing a couple of feet away.
: "Hey, Buck. Please tell me Steve didn't talk your ear out about work." You say with a chuckle. Of course, you had noticed Bucky talking to Steve, your eyes tended to look for his even in a room full of hundreds.
Bucky just lets out a chuckle, shrugging, already feeling much at ease now that he was with you.
A clearing of throat brings both of your attention back to the man standing beside you.
"Gosh, I am sorry. Bucky, this is Todd. Todd Williams. You remember the law firm Tony was talking about the other day?"
Bucky just nods his head, least interested in who this man was.
"He is the owner." You introduce him to Bucky with a polite smile on your face and Bucky wants to rip this man's head off. Even though he just knows his name, he is pretty sure he is going to hate him, if he doesn't already.
"Hi, Bucky, I have heard a lot about you." The man brings his hand forward for a handshake and Bucky thinks he will chop off his hand before he shakes it with the man.
"James." He replies with a stern look on his face.
Todd awkwardly takes his hand back and narrows his eyes in confusion.
"My name is James. Only my friends call me Bucky."
You widen your eyes at Bucky. You knew he never liked meeting new people and that he was not really the warmest to strangers, but he was never so.... hostile. If looks could kill, Todd would be six feet under by now.
"It's nice to meet you, James." Todd tries again, now slightly scared of the former winter soldier.
"I wish I could say the same. What are you even doing here?" Bucky asks, annoyed.
"Bucky." You whisper yell his name to remind him how Tony had conducted an emergency meeting to tell everyone that they have to be nicer to the guests. You, then put on a smile before replying for Todd, "He is here for the charity auction. Isn't that nice?"
Bucky squints his eyes at you as if he can't figure out what's so nice about giving your money away for charity.
"That is just an excuse, really," Todd says, in an attempt to break the tension. "I came here in hopes of meeting a beautiful woman." He then looks at you before saying, "Mission accomplished."
You giggle at his words, flustered. You know he is just trying to be nice and not flirty. He had just told you how badly he was missing his wife who was much better at these charity auctions than he was.
What you don't notice is how Bucky's jaws tense and his fists clench. If they were not standing in a room full of so many people, he would have picked the glass from the nearby table and broken it on Todd's head. Tony's warnings are damned.
He instead just says, "Well then, you don't have to stay for the auction. Leave."
Todd nervously chuckles."I could. But now that I am here, maybe I could enjoy the party for a bit."
"You should. Tony's parties have the best appetizers." You tell him, desperately trying to make him feel comfortable when there is an ex-assassin who looks like he could slit his throat if given a chance.
"But you know what's better? The exit gate. You should check it out and while you are at it, maybe also get your ass out of here." Bucky says without an ounce of hesitation in his voice.
"Bucky." You gasp. This wasn't funny anymore. "Can I talk to you? In private?"
You give Todd an apologetic smile before holding Bucky's hand to get the hell out of here, without waiting for his response.
Bucky stops for a moment to look at Todd again, "The exit gate is that way. Feel free to use it while we are gone."
You pull him with you and take him towards the nearest balcony, not leaving his hand till you are out in the cold air and can't hear the party from inside.
You let go of him to cross your arms across your chest. "Buck, what the hell do you think you are doing?"
"Showing an annoying joke of a man his place," Bucky replies, without a single ounce of guilt for what he has done.
"Bucky." It's your turn to be upset. "He is a businessman. A rich one. His contribution could be great for the auction. Do you not remember what Tony said?"
"I don't care what Tony says. What is he gonna do with so much money, anyways? Buying some piece of mind?"
"What the hell is wrong with you? Why in the nine realms were you so rude to Todd?" You snapped.
"Oh, so now you call him Todd, huh?"
"That's literally his name."
"It's a very stupid name, okay? But it suits him. A stupid name for a stupid man. In his stupid suit with his stupid money." Bucky rambles, disgusted as if he hasn't heard a worse name in his long life.
"Buck, you are behaving like a 5-year-old now. What's - ?" You stop yourself as an amused grin spreads on your face as you put the pieces together. "Oh, god!!" You place your palm on your mouth before whispering, "Bucky, you - You are jealous."
"No, no I am not, Not even a bit. Nada.Negative. Why would I be?" Bucky shakes his head as if that were a ridiculous thought. Why was everyone getting the most ridiculous ideas today?"
"I would have believed you if you hadn't said no 6 times. You are jealous." Your smile grows wider as you take a step towards him with a pointed look. "You are jealous because he was talking to me the whole time and he called me beautiful and said that I had a pretty smile."
"When did he - " Bucky stops himself as he realises the rage in his voice will give him away. He takes a step back and turns away, till he is standing near the railing.
You stand beside him, about to say something, till you look into his eyes. His eyes have a look you have seen before. He is hurt. He is processing a lot of things that he doesn't want to think about. This wasn't amusing anymore. "Hey. I - I am sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Bucky, I am - "
"I am not jealous, okay?" He now turns and looks directly into your eyes. "I am not. I just don't like it when someone else has your attention. Not because I am jealous, no. But because I am scared." Bucky swallowed thickly. You had seen him vulnerable before when he had nightmares and you were trying to remind him where he was or when memories from his time at hydra hit him with full force. But this was a different kind. It was as if he was laying his soul bare in front of you. Voicing his worst fears.
"I am scared because I don't want anyone else to realise how amazing, smart, funny, kind and just so damn lovable you are. Because then they will steal you from me. I will lose you forever and - and I don't want that. I don't want to lose you to someone else. I don't want to lose you." He says the last sentence as if he is begging whatever god will listen to not let his worst fears turn true, to let him have this. Let him have you.
"Tell me, doll. Why am I so scared to lose you when you are not even mine?"
Tears pricked your eyes as you looked at him.
Before Bucky knew what was happening, you closed the distance between the both of you. As your lips met his, everything else stood at a standstill.
Bucky was too shocked to respond for a minute. This couldn't be happening. Did you feel the same way about him? How -
All these thoughts turn into nothing until you're the only one comprising his thoughts. And Bucky realises this is how it has been for a long time. It was just you. In his heart and his mind. Your warmth spread through him and captured his soul until it was impossible to separate the two of them.
He kisses you with the same love and gentleness as his hands find your waist to pull you impossibly closer towards him.
When the necessity to breathe arose, you pulled away but still stood close.
"I want to be yours, Buck."
If the kiss had stolen his breath away, your words make his heart beat frantically. This couldn't be happening. This had to be a dream.
"You don't mean that, doll. You - "
"I do. I do mean that, Buck. I choose you. And I'd always choose you. In a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd always choose you”
This isn't Your Fault
Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader
Summary: “Tara,” you said, the calmness of your voice surprising you. “This isn’t you fault.”
Word Count: 3.3k+
Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
“Hey, babe,” you answered the phone cheerfully. “How was the party?” Tara had begged you to go to the frat party, but you declined. As much as you loved the girl, there was no way in hell she was going to get you to go to a frat party. You already hated parties and socializing in general. There was nothing in the world that could convince you to go to something that involved both, especially when all the people involved would be drinking.
“Ugh,” Tara groaned. “It was going great until Sam showed up and tased someone in the balls.”
“I’m sorry?” you weren’t sure you heard her right, it sounded like she said her sister tased someone in the balls. You opened a cabinet, grabbing a glass.
“There was some drunk frat douche who may have been trying to get me to come upstairs with him.”
“Oh my god, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” You knew Tara was smiling into her phone just from the way her voice softened, it brought a smile to your face as well.
Tara loved when someone cared about her. She loved when someone cared enough to be there for her and protect her. You knew that, just from the way her eyes always lit up when you’d check in or instantly come over if she was having a bad day. You saw it in the way despite wanting freedom from her sister, she still respected her and wanted her approval. You and Tara had been dating for over six months now and she still refused to introduce you to her sister. You had met her friends but none of them knew you guys were dating. You understood, truly, after what they had all been through you got that they were hesitant to trust strangers. Even though she said she was afraid of how Sam would react, and that she’d scare you off you knew the real reason Tara didn’t want to introduce you yet was because she was afraid Sam wouldn’t approve of you.
You believed your relationship with Tara was stronger than that, that Tara wouldn’t break up with you just because her sister or friends didn’t like you. You knew it would make things difficult though. If they didn’t like you, or really if Sam didn’t like you, you knew Tara would be hurt. She’d be torn between being with you and knowing her sister didn’t approve. Which is why until Tara was ready, you were more than happy to wait to officially meet Sam.
“Chad stopped the guy, getting into a fight in the process,” Tara continued.
You smiled at that; you knew there was always a reason you liked Chad. “Good,” you said instead.
“Then Sam showed up and the tasing happened,” she let out a long sigh. “I just want a normal life.”
“I know,” you whispered sympathetically. “You know she just wants to keep you safe though, right?”
Tara groaned, causing you to laugh. “I know,” she mumbled. “This is just the exact reason why I won’t introduce you.” You could imagine Tara throwing up her hands as she said that. “She wants me to open up and share with her but then when I try to have a life outside of the friend group, she tases someone!”
“Whenever you decide to introduce me, I’m sure it will go fine.” You reached above the island, grabbing one of the pans hanging and set it on the stove. “I’m sure I won’t get tased.” You walked around the island, moving to grab the food you intended to have for dinner before pausing in your tracks. “Right?” you asked hesitantly with an awkward chuckle before you got to moving again.
“Maybe,” Tara mumbled. Your steps paused again, you wanted to meet the most important person in Tara’s life, but Tara was making it incredibly difficult for you to not be terrified of her sister. “Just stand behind me when that eventual meeting happens.”
You let out a nervous chuckle. You were sure it would go fine. You were sure that Sam would probably glare at you and maybe judge you right away, assuming you were out to get them or something. You hoped though that eventually Sam would warm up to you. You were sure Sam could be scary, you’d seen her staring down anyone who so much glanced at her wrong when she followed Tara somewhere, she was certainly one intimidating woman. You knew she was really just incredibly protective over her little sister, a bit overprotective if you asked Tara.
Her friends weren’t much different, at least Mindy and Chad, the ones who survived Woodsboro with them. You had met them in casual settings, at parties, in the library, and even shared a class with Mindy. They were all a tight knit group, they talked with others but letting someone in their friend group was a process apparently. When you eventually officially met them, you were sure you’d be interrogated by Mindy and Chad would probably be like Sam, glaring at you from across the room. Out of the three of them Tara said Mindy was the calmer more reasonable one, but she could get a little intense when she was going over a suspect list or accusing people of murders.
Mindy was the one you were the least worried about. You actually had a couple classes with Anika and worked together on a few papers. You still hadn’t met Mindy enough to walk up and talk to her, but she would give you a nod if she saw you and she was always nice when she came to pick Anika up from a study session. She would also usually squint at you, watching you for anything suspicious but she did that with most people, so you didn’t take it personally.
“My fearless protector,” you said softly.
“Shut up,” Tara said.
You chuckled, shaking your head. Tara was short and everyone underestimated her. The truth was she had just as much fight in her as her sister. Whenever you were out if someone made a rude comment or God forbid hit on you, Tara would shoot them a furious glare that would make anyone on the receiving end wish they were dead. There was even one time when you were out and someone recognized Tara, then the moron decided to make a comment about Sam, and you were lucky to pull Tara out of there before the police could be called. She about launched herself over the table, arms already out and ready to strangle the man.
Your laughter quickly ended when you heard a creak. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. You didn’t take the phone away from your ear as you glanced down the hall. You didn’t see anyone, and the front door was still closed. You were the only one home, your parents being out of town for the week. You swore you heard the floor creak though. Every fiber of your body told you to not go down the hall, the little alarm going off in your head screaming that something wasn’t right.
“You, okay?” Tara asked. You could hear the concern in her voice.
“Yeah,” you answered distractedly. You cleared your throat saying, “Yeah,” again more convincingly. “So, what’s planned for the rest of the night?” you decided to change the subject.
“Sleep,” Tara mumbled. “I’m already starting to feel this hangover. Can I come over tomorrow?”
“Is that a good idea?” You swung around the island, resting your hand on the refrigerator door. “I doubt Sam will want you out of her sight after tonight.”
“Fuck what she wants. I miss you,” she whined.
You glanced up from the floor, catching the reflection of a white mask in the window as you opened the fridge door. You swallowed, preparing yourself for what was about to happen.
“Tara,” you said, the calmness of your voice surprising you. “This isn’t you fault.”
“What?” she asked, confused.
You slammed the refrigerator door closed, spinning around to face your attacker just as he swung his knife, the metal blade clashing against the steel fridge door. You ran towards the stove, letting your phone clatter onto the island as you empty your hands to grab the pan you had intended to use to cook dinner.
You brought the pan up just as Ghostface brought his knife down towards you. The sound of metal against metal filling the air. You moved the pan, blocking every slash and every stab. At one point when he went to stab you instead of blocking you brought the pan up, swinging it down hard on his hand that held the knife. He groaned, dropping the knife in the process. You brought the pan back up, whacking him across the face. He stumbled to the side, catching himself on the counter. You brought the pan down on his head again. While he was down on his knees you turned and ran, reaching over the island to grab your phone again.
You ran down the hall, sliding into the front door, after taking the turn a little too tight. You had your hand on the doorknob when you saw Ghostface already on his feet again, making his way to you. You changed course, running up the stairs to your room instead. You heard the knife impale the front door, cracking the wood as it was yanked out.
You reached your room, slamming the door behind you, knowing it would only buy you a few extra seconds. You jumped on your bed, rolling over the other side as gracefully as you could. You grabbed the baseball bat you always had resting against the wall by your bedside, getting in a swinging position as you stared down the door, waiting for Ghostface to burst through.
You held the phone in your hand, the same one that was gripping the bat. You vaguely heard Tara’s voice coming through the speaker, you knew she must be going out of her mind not knowing what was happening. You wanted to answer her, tell her Ghostface was here and to get out of town as fast as she could. You couldn’t release your grip on the bat though, your eyes were glued to your bedroom door.
The bedroom door shuddered as if someone was pounding on it. With each shake you stepped back, bumping into the wall behind you. You tightened your grip on the bat, your knuckles turning white. When suddenly the shuddering stopped. You held your breath as the doorknob slowly turned, the door squeaking open. Standing in the doorway was Ghostface, knife shining at his side. He tilted his head at you as he stepped into your room, crossing over the invisible threshold.
You and Ghostface watched each other, waiting for the other to make their move. It was so quiet you could swear you heard your own heart beating. In the blink of an eye Ghostface surged forward, launching himself over the bed, he didn’t make it over your bed in one jump though. His feet got caught up in the blankets causing him to stumble down.
You took the opportunity to run around the side of the bed, narrowly missing a swipe of Ghostface’s knife as he swung out at you. You heard a light thud then realized you had a better grip on your bat, you had dropped your phone. You slid to a stop just as you hit the stairs, gripping the railing so you didn’t go flying down them. You quickly recovered, rushing down the steps as quick as possible. Part of you wanted to go back for your phone but you knew doing so would only end in your death.
You got to the front door, turning the knob to unlock it then flung the door open. Ghostface stomped down the steps, jumping when he was halfway, slamming his body into the open door, effectively closing it again. You stumbled back, barely getting out of the way of the door about to crush your arm.
Ghostface pushed himself off the door with a grunt, jumping right at you. He knocked you to the ground, the force of his tackle causing you to let go of your bat.
You looked at your bat, rolling just out of reach. You looked back up, seeing Ghostface hovering over you. He gripped his knife in his right hand, swiftly bringing it down towards your chest.
You caught his wrist just as the knife touched your shirt, pushing back against him so it was now hovering a few inches from your chest. He brought his other hand over, putting more weight on the hand with the knife. It inched closer and closer to your chest. You stared up at the white mask, into the hollow black eyes. You knew there was a person behind the mask, but you couldn’t make out any features.
You kicked your legs, trying to get any leverage on him. You brought your knee up, knowing for sure he was a he by the way he groaned, loosening his grip on the knife. You knocked the knife out of his hand, rolling out from under him in the processes.
He moved slowly, still clearly in pain from your hit. He reached over, stretching out his hand towards his knife. You were closer, reaching up and smacking it across the floor.
You were on your knees about to pull yourself up the rest of the way when you looked up seeing Ghostface standing above you, he had recovered before you. He sent three swift kicks to your stomach, knocking the breath out of you. You rolled over onto your back, looking up at him as you gasped for breath.
You rolled over again, trying to bring yourself back to your feet, there was no way you were going down without a fight. Your hands were spread out, face down on the floor to help push you up. Ghostface walked closer to you, the only thing you saw were his boots stopping before you.
Ghostface lifted his leg high, bringing his heavy combat boot down onto your hand. He gave his boot a final twist, allowing you to hear the crunch of your bones before he took his foot away. You rolled back onto your back, clutching your hand as you screamed in pain. Tears were already streaming down your face as you tried to regain control of your breathing.
Ghostface walked around you, moving towards his knife. You pressed your injured hand to your chest, reaching out towards your bat with the other hand. Ghostface forgot about his knife, kneeling down in front of you, tilting his head as he watched you struggle trying to reach the bat. He picked the bat up just as your fingertips grazed the handle.
He stood above you, tilting his head as he shook the bat back and forth in a taunting manor before raising it above his head.
“No!” you screamed right before Ghostface brought the bat down onto your ribs.
He brought the bat down again.
The force of his swings never letting up. You struggled to catch your breath. Gasping for air as you took short shallow breaths, you couldn’t take a deep breath.
There was what sounded like tires screeching outside. Through bleary vision you could see Ghostface look up and out the window before dropping your bat with a clang and bolting towards the backdoor.
“Y/N!” someone shouted. You blinked your eyes slowly, your eyelids becoming heavy.
The next thing you were aware of was a warm pressure on your shoulder. You turned your head to see a hand resting on your shoulder. Your eyes trailed from the hand, up an arm, and to a face, your girlfriends face, Tara’s face. You saw blurry figures beside her that you couldn’t make out. You could only stare into Tara’s worried eyes. She seemed to be sobbing, her mouth was moving but you couldn’t hear the words coming out before your eyes slowly shut, everything going black.
When you opened your eyes again you were in a dark room, panic instantly shot through you. You tried to sit up, instantly hissing in pain. You sucked in a breath but once again, pained shot through you. You dropped your head back down, taking small breaths. It didn’t feel like you were on the hard wood floor anymore, whatever was behind your head felt soft and fluffy. Your eyes darted all around the room, not recognizing your surroundings, the walls were bare and basic, you didn’t know where you were.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Tara whispered softly, her tear-stained face appearing above you. “You’re okay,” she gripped your hand tightly with her own, brushing your hair out of your face with her other hand. “You’re in the hospital.”
“Wh-what are you doing here?” you rasped out, your dry mouth the least of your worries because each word caused pain to shoot through you.
“I needed to make sure you were okay.” You caught movement out of the side of your eye, seeing someone else had been in the room and was slipping out to give you and Tara privacy. You didn’t get a good visual and you’d only ever seen pictures Tara showed you, but it almost looked like Sam.
“You-you need to get out of town.” You gritted your teeth, trying to swallow the pain. “You need to get somewhere safe.”
“No, no, I’m not leaving you,” she shook her head as if she couldn’t believe you said that. “I’m not leaving you,” she repeated, leaving you no more room to argue.
Your eyes drifted to your hand not intertwined with Tara’s, it was wrapped in a cast. The cast covered your entire hand, going up all your fingers, leaving only your pointer one free, then it stretched down just past your wrist so you couldn’t bend it. The only thought that went through your mind oddly was that you were just glad it hadn’t been your dominant hand.
You looked back up at Tara, noticing she was staring at your injured hand as well. “How are you feeling?” she asked, not able to peel her eyes away from the cast.
“If I sit completely still and don’t breathe then the pain is only agonizing,” you answered. “Instead of excruciating.”
“I’m sorry,” Tara whispered, tears already beginning to fill her eyes.
“This wasn’t your fault,” you tried to lean up, instantly wincing in pain as you slowly lowered yourself back down again. “Please don’t cry.” You untangled your hand from hers, reaching up to brush the few stray tears that had begun to fall. “This wasn’t your fault.”
“If it wasn’t for me, you never would have been targeted,” her voice cracked.
You shook your head. “No, no, it’s not your fault a psycho wants to hurt you. This isn’t on you. I love you.” You tilted her chin until she was looking you in the eye. “I love you,” you whispered again.
“I love you too,” she leaned forward, resting her forehead against yours, a few of her tears dripping down onto you.
“This was a hell of a way to meet your sister,” you said, trying to break the tension.
Tara leaned back into her chair, wrapping her hand in yours again. “And you still haven’t even officially met yet,” she chuckled.
“Damn,” you sighed. “I was hoping unconscious me had already done all the work.”
“At least she knows you aren’t potentially a Ghostface,” Tara joked.
You laughed, instantly wincing in pain. “Don’t joke.”
“I’m sorry,” she smiled down at you. “She does want to officially meet you though.”
“Can’t wait,” you whispered. You closed your eyes as Tara stroked her fingers through your hair, allowing you to peacefully to drift off to sleep.
Pairings: Rafe Cameron X F! Reader
Warnings: Soft Rafe (It’s a warning of it’s own), angst, alcohol mention
Author’s Note: I’m so on the fence with Rafe cos like he’s obvs a horrible character, but like he’s such a good character. Like he’s sexy and he’s well-written, I love him. But he’s an arsehole, I hate him. yknow
Summary: You and Rafe never argue, ever.
Despite Rafe’s hard demeanour, and tendency to need the final word at all times, very seldom did you argue in your relationship. For someone living with so much hatred, it was important to Rafe that you never experienced it.
Typically, you got on well. Similar in interest but completely different in manner. He was the talker, you were the listener. You washed the dishes, he put them away. You simply never fought.
Bickering was different, you’d laugh and joke around, poke holes at a bad haircut and so forth. And naturally, with Rafe, jealousy was a large part of your day-to-day life together, but the anger that came was never directed at you. He knew how un-wandering your eyes were, and he knew how beautiful other people found you. Yes, he’d lose his temper at the Pogue looking you up and down, but no, he would never blame you for it. He knew that you were his.
On the other hand, you were never entirely sure that he was yours. He’d never once cheated, or given you any reason to think that he was, but you were aware of his past when your first met. Aware of the elusive Rafe Cameron who was never tied down for long. Self-consciousness crept in quickly after you’d hit the one-year mark.
A trip to the mainland that you’d chosen to accompany your boyfriend on. Simply a few drinks with some potential clients, Rafe was expected to go following his new position in the family company. The insecurity began when he hadn’t initially invited you, it stayed as you realised how many beautiful women were there - each with eyes on Cameron Development’s newest CEO.
You tried to loop your arm in his, an effort to have the eyes turn away, but Rafe didn’t notice. His hands still tightly in his trouser pocket, networking away. Neither he, or the leggy brunette in front of him noticed as you slipped from his side and found the open bar.
10 Minutes and 3 miscellaneous drinks later, he found you. Tucked away and sipping your straw.
“Hey,” he soothes, “Where ya been?”
You look to him, “Here.” you state, plain and simple.
“Obviously,” He tries to jest, “Why did you leave me?”
“I came for a drink.”
“Why didn’t you come back?”
“Why are you suddenly so interested?”
I must reinstate that you never fought, so anything more than some hushed words, or a light squabble, seriously neared separate bed territory. What might have been a heated conversation to some couples, was a raging bullfight to the pair of you. Rafe had so much of that for the rest of his life. He was adamant that it would never happen with you.
“Let's go outside.” He states; much less a suggestion than a direction, and leads you out a back door to one of Charleston’s quiet alleyways.
“Talk,” he ordered, hands on each of your arms.
You shrug, “I’ve nothing to say.”
Rafe kisses his teeth, looking away, “Have I done something?” He asks, a hint of insecurity in his tone.
You can’t quite answer, because truthfully he hadn’t. He’d never given you a reason to feel insecure, you just did anyway. Something about knowing that you were never invited, knowing that if you hadn’t decided you’d come along, he’d probably be off with some other woman.
“I shouldn’t have come,” you finally admit, “I should have just let you get on with it like you normally do. Stayed blissfully unaware.”
His eyes squint, “Y/N, I want you here. I have nothing to hide from you?’
You chuckle, it’s hearty but without an ounce of humour to it. “What? Do you think I’m blind or something?” Rafe stands unmoving, taking in your words, “I see you in there, they eat you up, and you feed into it!”
“How do I feed into it?” He’s strangely calm, anger in his tone, but only a whisper of it.
“You flirt! You smile, you complement, you completely ignore that I’m right next to you. Rafe, you don’t even introduce me as your girlfriend-”
“Because I thought it was obvious!”
“It’s not!” You shout, “It’s fucking not.”
The alleyway is quiet again. Muffled voices and music come from inside the door, and a handful of cars driving down the main road a few meters away provide the only light. You see Rafe’s face for a second as they pass by.
“How can other people see that I’m your girlfriend, when I don’t even feel like I am.”
His hands drop to his sides as he inhales shakily. Not a word is spoken, but tears fall from your eyes. Rafe watches them glide, mouth slightly agape. He stands a second more before pulling you into his embrace.
You’d try to fight it, but that’s the last thing you want to do right now.
“I’m sorry,” Rafe whispers, lips grazing your forehead, “I’m so sorry, Baby”
You want to assure him it’s fine, but it’s not. You were dancing on the grounds of breakup territory, and neither of you wanted that.
“I notice things, Rafe. And you forget that I know your history, I knew who you were before.”
“I’m not him anymore.”
You hesitate your answer, “I know that-”
“Do you?” He asks, pulling away to see your face. His eyes are growing red, obviously fighting back the urge to cry with you, “Because it sounds like you don’t. And I’m not that guy any more, I want you.”
His words used back on him. Normally he’d continue this argument, fight his way through to victory. Finish the battle with the last word, and full disregard to the other person’s feelings. But, he couldn’t this time. He could never fight with you.
“More than anything.”
Tears fall from his eyes, water staining the silk shirt he wears under his blazer. He doesn’t care, eyes boring into yours, awaiting your words.
to do it all again.
not manga spoiler free !
manjiro sano lost you in his past life. he has had to live with the agony of seeing you fall apart at his lies of betrayal and infidelity. now that he gets the opportunity to turn back time, there is nothing he wouldn’t do to make things right.
pairing : timeleaper!mikey x reader
content : angst with comfort. second chances. major manga spoilers. confessions of cheating (but it was a lie told by mikey to push reader away). cursing. mentions of death.
mikey stands on the ledge of a rooftop of the building, looking over the city lights illuminating the night, letting the wind brush through his long hair.
he could see the people from here, albeit tiny, he can still observe everyone who passes by. there are smiles on their faces, lovers holding their hands, happily walking on the streets of tokyo aimlessly.
a sharp pain shoots through his chest when he looks beside him, ready to hold the hand of the love of his life, only to be reminded that he is entirely all by himself. it hurts, and he knows he doesn’t have the right to complain when he was the one who pushed you and everyone else away.
he is alone by choice. he distanced himself and deliberately wanted everyone to hate him by choice. that should make it all alright, that the sole reason he has nothing is him. that is what he tells himself.
no matter how self-destructive he is, there is a voice in his head that loves him, and it questions everything that has gone wrong in mikey’s life.
is it really his choice if he doesn’t like it? is it really by choice if had things been different, he wouldn’t have to do it? if he wishes he had another choice?
how is any of this fair?
how could you let them do this to you, mikey?
who gets to decide who is dangerous and not? who gets to decide who would live happily with their loved ones and those who would die alone? if there is a god out there, how is it any fair just for him to be standing on top of the world... all cold and broken?
it doesn’t make any fucking sense.
it’s all so fucking unfair.
all his life, he has done nothing but envy people for being happy, and for not being afraid to be. because whenever he’s happy, he always had to brace himself for the consequence that would come next.
his happiness was always conditional. always with a price to pay. and now he thinks he has maxed out, having experienced pure bliss with you.
the love of his goddamn pitiful life.
maybe this is payment for being too happy. for thinking you’d both have a future together. it is his punishment for ever thinking it was possible for him to be with someone as good as you.
mikey will repent for it, but he misses you so.
he misses you so much he is close to hallucinating an image of you in all the places you’ve been to together. his throat itches at the urge to scream his lungs out at being full of too much longing.
he misses you, and his skin longs for your touch, his heart for your love, and his soul for your warmth. but he can’t do anything to change that.
he closes his eyes to get rid of the sight of people living their lives just right below him, and try to get a memory of you smiling at him.
instead, he is confronted by the memory of the night when he let you go. no—it’s not just letting you go. he deliberately hurt you so you could let him go.
manjiro sano remembers it all. he remembers your betrayal-stricken eyes. he remembers your quivering lips. he remembers your hiccups in between your sobs. he remembers how he broke your heart, the very thing he promised that he wouldn’t do.
he remembers it all too well.
it sucks to be the one who remembers.
“i don’t think i heard you right, manjiro.”
your boyfriend hasn’t been coming home lately. it worries you, where he is, where he stays when he’s not home. you worry if he eats well, if he is alright and not all beaten up somewhere.
despite his behavior, you brush it off as something that he has to do. maybe he needed some time to himself. perhaps something important came up in kantou manji hang. he’s an important man, after all.
you don’t have the heart to assume something else other than that. so, the revelation he makes to you tonight as soon as you gets in the door shocks you.
“you heard me right,” he says without emotion, despite the havoc wreaking inside his body it makes him want to hurl. “i cheated on you. kissed and slept with someone else. i can’t bear to keep it from you.”
his heart is acting like a ticking time bomb. the confusion in your eyes, not believing what he just said, hurts more than if you would just scream at him and throw curses around.
she doesn’t believe me.
the expression on your face is straight. you are waiting for the punchline. it is a cruel fucking joke but you’re willing to forgive him for it if he would just say that he’s tripping.
but he doesn’t say anything. he just stands at the doorway, almost one foot outside the door because he’s so ready to leave. he’s ready to leave you and you don’t understand why.
he shakes his head, and it was the cue for your heart to start clawing out of your ribs in the realization that he might just be telling the truth.
but he’s manjiro sano. he is yours. he has always been yours like you have been his. there is no way he could do that to you. the person who kisses your forehead goodnight could not possibly cheat on you.
“i’m not lying.”
he is lying. he hasn’t been coming home because his impulses have been worst than ever. he’s afraid he’d black out and wake up to your cold body next to him. he’s terrified that his love would not be enough to keep you safe from the danger that is himself.
he is lying, because it is physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually impossible for the man to even look at somebody else that is not you.
you are the only one he wants. you are the only one he has ever loved. that is his greatest, naked truth. and right now, he has to convince you otherwise.
how could he fucking possibly make you believe that he doesn’t love you anymore, when his entire body knows for sure that it belongs to you. only you.
“i tried to stop it, but i’ve been so fuckin’ lonely lately with all those nights alone. needed someone to keep me warm, you know.” it feels like insects are crawling underneath his skin at the disgust he feels at his own words, despite coming from a place of untruth.
in denial, it is your turn to shake your head. you even manage to crack a smile in hopes that he would return it. “mikey, p-please? i don’t get it, love. this is not a good joke. please, stop it, yeah?”
your pleas don’t fall on deaf ears. he’s willing to stop saying it over and over now only if you would believe him and just push him away.
but you’re not doing that.
see, mikey? this is how much she loves you. she loves you too much for her own good. she loves you so much she believes you’re not capable of doing this. she loves you. love her enough to let her go before you become the death of her.
“i’m not kidding. i slept with someone else, and i liked it. i wanted it to happen.”
when the realization hits you, when the coldness behind his ivory eyes supported his claims of cheating on you, you break and manjiro sano breaks with you.
he cannot bare to look at the sobs that leave the lips that he worships, nor the tears that escape the eyes that he would be a slave for.
you are hurting because of him and he knows it would happen. he wanted this to happen. better break your heart than have you die on his arms. he can’t let that happen. not in this lifetime and not in the next.
for five minutes, the only sound bouncing off the walls of your studio apartment is your wails. cries of someone who feels like they have lost everything, including faith in all that they have ever believed in.
“why…” you whisper, but loud enough for him to hear. “why would you… how could… i don’t understand. i can’t wrap my head around it.”
he wants to look away, but he doesn’t. he looks at you, bearing your broken heart to him, serving it to him on a silver platter.
mikey etches it in his mind to make sure he remembers how hurt you were, so he can pay for it in hell. he is not sure how, but he will suffer for it. he promises he will burn just to fucking pay for this—this moment, right here.
“i’ll just grab my stuff and i’ll be out before you know it.”
your eyes widen and you hurry to block his way to the bedroom. “what? no! no! you’re not leaving, mikey! we’re going to talk about this, okay? y-you can’t leave like this. this is your home. don’t go. please.”
the look he gives you is incredulous. “are you sick in the head? i cheated on you, and you want me to stay?”
you flinch at the reminder. he can’t believe it left your mind for a moment. you can’t believe it either because even though everything has been said and done, you still can’t believe it.
“everything hurts! looking at you hurts too much right now, but i need to understand! i want to hate you but i’m willing to talk about it if you have an explanation! you can call me stupid but i’m not letting you go! make me understand! just… don’t leave.”
he looks away because he can only take so much. he wants to get away from here as fast as possible so he won’t have to hear or see the aftermath of the storm he just created.
pushing past through you, you stumble in your foot following him to the bedroom where he brought out a bag that he now fills with some of his clothes. without you noticing, he grabs a hoodie of yours and leaves you one of his, along with most of his things.
“you don’t have to leave! you can say sorry right now and i will forgive you, manjiro!” you continue to sob as you reach out a hand to stop his arms from moving more.
he shoots you a weary look. “why can’t you just let me fuckin’ leave?!”
“because i might never get to see you again! as much as i can’t bare to look at you knowing what you did, i can never live knowing i’d never see you again! you will disappear! i know you!”
he wants to take you in an embrace and ask for your forgiveness for lying, but he has to stand his ground. everyone he has ever loved will die, if he doesn’t leave.
you will be in peril if he doesn’t do this. and there is nothing he wouldn’t sacrifice to keep that from happening.
“if-if you don’t have feelings the person you slept with, we can figure this out. mikey, love, i’m willing to work this out with you. j-just don’t leave.”
you just thought him how to get out of this. he is going to say it, and he is not going to mean it.
“i love them.”
if the thought of him being physically involved with someone else brought excruciating pain, this—him falling in love with someone else—was death.
mikey dies with you.
i will pay for this, baby. i will burn in hell to pay for this. i will never forgive myself for this. i promise, that i shall never be happy again after this.
at the battle of the two tomans, he finds himself begging takemichi to stay alive.
“this is why i pushed you all away, see? this is exactly what i feared would happen!” he cries out because he is exhausted.
his dark impulses are gone, but takemichi is gone, and you are gone. everyone he loves is gone, in one way or another.
he has done everything in his power to keep this from happening. he survived lonely nights, ate bland meals, and lived in isolation the past years just to keep all of you safe.
he had to watch his friends reach milestones and celebrate with each other, face hurdles together, simply hanging out as the sun sets while he does nothing but wish he was included—all of that to stop this, but it’s happening. there was nothing else he could have done but life is working against him still.
right now, he’s soaking in the blood of one of his very best friends. shinichiro is gone, emma is gone, izana is gone, draken is gone, and he doesn’t doubt that there would be a next if he keeps himself close.
why? i don’t understand. he has followed everything even when it killed him, so why?
“c’mon, takemitchi! wake the hell up, damn it!”
the people whom he once called his friends are all weeping tears of grief at the sight of the new leader of tokyo manji gang bleeding out. they won’t ever say it, but mikey is sure they are blaming him for it. everyone probably thinks they would have been better off without him, without meeting him again like this.
they all have each other, they would have been fine. but what about mikey? what about him?
do they not know?
do they not know how much he wept and how he made his house a disaster right after he went home when he saw draken laying lifelessly on the ground with three bullet holes in his body?
do they not know how much he wishes he could just be selfish for once and come home to you? so you can wipe his tears and nurse his pain?
of course, they don’t know. he never showed that to anyone. no matter how much he wished someone saw it anyway.
he had to stand by his decision, no matter how lonely the road he chose was. he would choose it again and again, if it ensures this won’t happen. but it’s happening.
and he wants nothing else but make it right.
again, again, and again.
the next time mikey opens his eyes, he is back in his childhood home. he lays awake on his bed, confused as to why he could hear shinichiro’s screams for emma to get off the couch, and the latter’s cheeky giggles.
he thinks, what a dream. i miss them so much since the day they left me. the heavens know what i’d give to go back to this day.
mikey startles when the door to his bedroom opens, revealing shinichiro.
he almost wants to cry and throw himself at his brother to hug him, but the older sibling got to open his mouth first.
“and you! when will you get up?! when it’s christmas? move it or you’ll be late for school again! that won’t be a good impression to make for your y/n, your crush!”
this dream is a little too realistic. still, he follows his brother like a good boy, completely going with the flow of this dream.
but when he steps on the floor, his foot catches a lego scattered around, and he yelps in pain. in pain.
that’s not normal in a dream, is it?
slowly, the idea of the possibility of time-leaping introduced to him by takemichi hits him. he sprints outside his room and snaps his head to the calendar.
and the year suggests that he is eight years old. a child. and this year, everyone is alive.
“emma?” he calls for his sister that he carried lifeless on his back by himself. there are now real tears in his eyes, and his sister slowly approaches him.
“hmm? are you okay, mikey?” the blondie little girl asks curiously, confused as to why mikey has literal waterfalls for an eye right now.
“will you punch me on the face real hard?”
without a second thought, emma does so, like she has been waiting for her whole life to do that. mikey grunts, but tears only continue to flow at pure happiness of this second chance.
he embraces emma in his arms. “you’re here. oh, my god. you’re really here. nii-san will protect you this time, yeah? i promise ‘ya that.”
his next thought… is none other than you.
he doesn’t bother to put on his uniform. despite shinichiro calling him to get back, he only rides his bike and pedals as fast as he can to get to school. he looks for the 2nd graders’ classroom.
and there you were. sitting all too cute and pretty on the colorful chairs of the elementary school you both attended, with a spare seat next to you that you specifically reserved for him because he is always late.
time stops for him when you raise your head to look up at him, and meet his eyes.
you are both alive, and you are both young with your whole lives ahead of you. you don’t know it yet, but this little crush thing going on between you two right now will grow into something bigger.
you have no idea that you will end up kissing him first on your last day at middle school, and move in together at eighteen.
but he knows.
he knows what went right. he knows what went wrong. and he knows what to do this time so he won’t have to let you go anymore.
so he walks up to you, and says:
“hi. you look like my girlfriend.”
you laugh it off as a poorly executed pick-up line he heard from his brother, but then again, he knows something you don’t know.
you are his girlfriend. or at least, you will be.
“manjiro, you look like you need some sleep!” you say as your cheeks flush at his line anyway, pertaining to his puffy eyes that are results of his incessant crying.
manjiro sano smiles.
“i think so, too.”
pairing: max verstappen x femalereader
summary: you're max's rival, and you kind of want to spit into each other's face. one day, one of his confessions makes things a little more complicated and... hot.
warnings: sexual activities, cursing words
THERE WAS NOTHING quite like the thrill of competing in Formula One.
As a driver, it took skill, stamina, and a little bit of luck to come out on top.
Max Verstappen had all of that, and then some. He was ruthless on the track, and people called him "Mad Max" for good reason.
When he got behind the wheel, he seemed unstoppable.
But there was one driver who had the potential to take him down: you.
You were just as skilled as he was, and you bad the same hunger for success.
Every time you stepped on the track, you felt a rush, knowing that you were up against one of the best.
You pushed yourself harder than you ever had before, determined to come out on top.
You had always felt a mix of anger and respect towards him.
Recently, though, you just craved to encircle his neck with your palms and compress the air out of his throat until he is on the floor unconscious.
Mean? You were not.
He may seem kind from the screen, but if other people knew him in person, they would be of the very same belief as you.
It could be they way he ironically talked to you or that sometimes he mispronounced your name in purpose.
His teammates and friends didn't seem to hate him at all, and that was what concerned you.
Are you the only one that gets disgusted just at the presence of him?
One day, as you were scrolling on your phone in the garage, you feel a tall figure approach you.
"You know, you and I, we're not so different." He leaned closer and as soon as you heard his voice you couldn't help but roll you eyes in annoyance. "We both have that hunger, the need to win. I can see it in your eyes. It's what sets us apart from the rest of the grid."
He was good looking, you'd give him that. But every part of his personality stink.
You were not exaggerating.
You looked Max straight in the eye. "You're right, Max. And that's why I'm not going to hold back this time. I'm going to race you like never before." You turned away to leave, but were surely surprised when a hand grabbed your wrist.
Tight and hard.
So hard that when it left your skin, it ached.
"Stop torturing me, (y/n)." Max's eyes were dark blue as if a shadow had taken over now.
He was angry.
You had never seen him like that.
"Torturing you?" You flipped your hair and went to leave, trying to hide the pain on your flesh which was previously caused by his hand. "You're such a drama queen, Max."
"You know, that little, smart mouth of yours has to be kept shut at times." His word made you turn to face him again automatically. You felt your hair stand on your arms.
"I have a few ideas on how to keep it shut, though." He crossed his arms and leaned into the wall behind you. "If only you let me."
You had to breathe. But you couldn't. It was too much and you hated the way he made you feel. Just like how much you hated him.
"Bullshit." You cursed and went to leave again.
A hand grabbed you again. His grip wasn't that tight this time, but you didn't have much time to think about it anyway. Max slammed his lips on yours and all of your thoughts melted away at once.
He was so close and so... fuck.
"I don't want you to be just a rival to me, (y/n)." His words were barely a whisper as he stopped the kiss for a few moments only to look at you. His left hand cupped and caressed your cheek while the other found each way to your back.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
You had to answer, yet you had no answer. You just wanted him to lean in again and...
The way he pronounced your name as if he owned it made you shiver.
"Tell me what you think." He said.
"Max, I..." You tried to detect the right words, but his lips on your sensitive neck made it extremely difficult to concentrate on anything else but him.
"Hmm...?" He buried his face in your neck and hair. "Fuck, you're so warm..."
"You have no idea." Your response was murmured.
"I bet you're more warmer somewhere else..." His lips found your chest, and he started making his way down your belly.
"Max." Your hands and legs were tremulous.
"Yes?" He looked at you.
"Can I ask for something?"
"Anything." He answered. "Except letting you win."
"That happens anyway, dummy." You teased.
His laugh was contagious. "Tell me, (y/n)."
"Please..." You murmured.
"Please, what, love?"
Your response was instant, even though you hated saying it out loud. You hated him. But you hated the way he made you feel more. "Please, fuck me."
I don't hate you
synopsis: Your boss, Aaron Hotchner, has made a point to make sure you know just how much he hates you. But the one time it goes to far, you confront him.
pairing: aaron hotchner x BAU!reader
word count: ca 1200
cw: swearing, jealousy, unfair treatment, somehow there's pining in here (don't ask how, it just happened.)
You had just found a seat at the precinct, allowing yourself a moment of quiet. The smallest of breathers before the inevitable would come. And just as you let out a sigh you heard the all to familiar sound of your boss approaching. Derek following suit behind him.
In a swift motion Hotch slammed the door closed, leaving the three of you alone in the room.
"You just had to go rouge, didn't you!?" Hotch was the first to speak up as he towered over you, arms crossed over his chest, the ever present frown plastered to his face.
You try to mutter a reply, but as always he cuts you off, leaving no room for explanation.
"You put both your life and agent Morgan's life on the line for something that might've worked." His tone felt like daggers poking at you, making sure you felt every rift and scratch they left.
Up until now Hotch's nagging about your every flaw hadn't gotten too you. But something about his tone and reasoning today just didn't sit right with you. Perhaps that was what gave you the extra courage you needed to make yourself heard. Regardless of the cause you spoke up.
"It worked, we got the guy." You said, calmly at first.
"That's beside the point! You made an irrational decision that could've been fatal." Hotch was quick to pick up, discarding your argument. His eyes a fiery fury of rage. "He could've had a gun, or a bomb or.."
"But we profiled him as a.."
"The profile isn't always correct! You of all people should know that, being a profiler." Hotch cut you off again, not even bother to let you finish.
Morgan, who up until now had stood there in disbelief, straightened up, relieving you of some attention. "Hotch I think you.."
Hotch was quick to cut him off, glaring in his direction. "This does not concern you Agent Morgan, you can leave."
Morgan was about to argue, but was met with another glare and Hotch's infamous words; "that's an order, agent."
Morgan shakes his head with a scuff. As he reaches for the door you see the resentment in his eyes. He felt for you, but there was nothing he could do. The boss had spoken and his orders was to be obeyed no matter how ridiculous.
Watching Morgan exit, you pushed yourself up form the chair, feeling the whole situation fuel you. You stood as tall as you could, wanting to present yourself as someone to be taken seriously.
“What have I done to make you hate me?” You snap, finally allowing yourself to ask the question that's been on your mind ever since you started.
For a split second you can swear you notice a flicker of confusion in Hotch's eyes, but before you can make anything out of it his harsh glare returns.
“I don’t hate you.” he scoff.
“Bull-fucking-shit Hotchner and you know it.”
“I stand my ground.” he shrugs, not allowing you the satisfaction of having caught him on something. Even though you knew very well he was lying.
“I just don’t understand. I never get into trouble like Prentiss does. I don’t argue with you like Morgan. I do my job without asking details. Hell, I even put up with all the verbal abuse you throw at me every day! So if I have done something please let me know, cause I’m clueless.” Your voice faded into a plea. Wishing nothing more than to have some peace of mind and not have to tiptoe around him at every waking moment.
“I don’t hate you." He persists, yet this time is different. He sighs as if to continue, but you don’t care at this point. All you want is to know why he hated you. Why he put you through something you’d fought years and years to get away from with yourself.
"Then why do you act like it?! I've done nothing but obey orders, never once straying from them."
"That's exactly why! You're good!," Hotch yells, but quickly compose himself speaking more softly, "You're too good..”
You mind falters. It's torn into a million different questions, but quiets momentarily as he continues.
"You're right in that I hate you." he admits, but the look in his eyes tells a whole other story. "I hate you for how you make me feel. I hate that I want nothing but to be close too you all the time, comfort you when I see a case takes a toll on you. I wanna be the reason you smile when you look at your phone, reading a stupid text. I wanna be the person you look for in a room full of people.”
“But you are!" Your closed fist pound into his chest with little to no force, mostly out of frustration of him being complete and utterly oblivious to your subtle hints. His hand takes a hold of your wrist in a tight grip and with a yank he pulls you closer. "You've always been..."
You feel yourself dangerously close to him, yet somehow not close enough.
“Then who is texting you?” His next words was spoken through gritted teeth and you couldn't help but notice the venomous jealousy dripping off his voice.
“Emily," When the name of is subordinate escape you lips you can tell the machinery in the great mind of his are turning. "She keeps sending me pictures of Sergio, her cat, and I just find him adorable, ‘n they calm me down if I’m having a rough day or a hard case.”
“So all this time.." He lets go of your wrist, sinking down in his shoes. "I’ve been jealous of a cat?”
You send him the look. The one saying well-du-uh!
He steps back, unsure of how to continue. It was clear to him that he had fucked up - massively.
How could he have been so blind? Looking back he'd found all the times you were there, simply there for him. Never once asking for anything in return.
And what had he done in return? He'd given you hell every waking moment during your day. He'd treated you like you were his biggest flaw, and still you managed to show him compassion?
He couldn't recall a single time you hadn't shown him the kindness of your nature, regardless of his cruel ways. You'd time and time offer smiles and wished him 'good morning' each morning, never once straying from it.
In his mind you'd already made up your mind about him, which made it all the more easy for him to keep you at an arms length. But he could see now that he was mistaken. And knew he'd regret it for the rest of his if he didn't try to mend this somehow.
So he said the only thing that came to mind, praying it'd somehow fix things.
“I’m sorry, Y/n.”
"Sorry's not gonna cut it, Hotch."
Crossing your arms over your chest, you watched him closely as he did something you thought you'd ever see him do.
He got down on his knees. Eyes never straying from yours. His next words chosen carefully, "Then tell me how I can make it up too you, I'll do anything."
"I have a few things in my mind."
superstar | jjk
you, the quiet, lonely achiever, get paired up with the superstar new student at your university for a group project... and he needs all the help he can get
description/tw/tags: ~7.1k words / jungkook x chubby (f) reader / one-shot / fluff with a tiny dash of angst / strangers to friends to lovers / university AU / this is a request, submitted by the lovely @cat123jkbunny / i hope you (all) like it! / fatphobia (details: y/n is insecure and quiet and she gets bullied for her body and is made fun of for it, with someone insinuating she isn't good enough because of her body. There is also a scene where she feels like she is ashamed to eat in a crowded place but jk helps her out of that) / clean except for kissing and swearing / this is for my fellow curvy/chubby/plus girlies, you are all beautiful and i am always here for you and i hope you like this / feedback is always welcome and it's appreciated! note: i have 2 half-written drabbles (AND even some more ideas) that emerged from this fic request, with the same couple! If you guys like this and want to see those - let me know!
┅ ┅ ┅ ┅
Please not Jeon Jungkook. Please God, not Jeon Jungkook. Anyone…. anyone but…
His name echoed throughout the gigantic lecture hall and in your skull. Out of every student in your class, did it really have to be him? The one paired assignment you had in your course had to be with Jeon Jungkook. As your professor called out the pairs… there seemed to be no one left but the two of you and the final pair, who were always together, his best friends Taehyung and Jimin. You’d gladly work with either of them instead, or anyone really….
There was nothing wrong with Jeon Jungkook… nothing at all. That was what was so bewildering about your university's superstar. Jeon Jungkook was the school's…. everything. Enigmatically the star athlete, a featured artist, a Dean’s List candidate, and even a band member on the weekends, apparently.�� He was the student that transferred to your prestigious university - absolutely unheard of - simply because the faculty were that impressed by him. With a reputation like that, it wasn’t long before everyone knew his name and face and was captivated by him immediately. Even the professors took a liking to him straight away - you’d grown tired of hearing them mention his name during office hours while they seemed to be getting tired of you. Every girl and guy on campus fawned over him - within good reason, you had to admit, considering his reputation and easy-on-the-eyes appearance… though you'd never stare his way for too long. The point remained:
If you went unseen, Jeon Jungkook was seen.
Being paired with him meant that whether you liked it or not, you would be in the spotlight in some way. No matter what - you’d have to talk to him, for God’s sake. You think to bolt out of the hall, find his email address, and just send him a breakdown of your responsibilities for the assignment or even an offer to do all the work yourself. You’d hate to, but if it meant interacting with Jeon Jungkook as little as possible and remaining unseen, you’d do it - what’s a few all-nighters and extra work when faced with the humiliation of talking to the school’s most popular person?
People hardly called you by your name at university - your one friend had already graduated, so just being called would’ve startled you enough… let alone having heard it from such a hushed, singsong voice. Turning around, you see the enigmatic man standing right above you. Everything made sense in an instant. The love, seeing his kind smile. The admiration, seeing his muscles. The crushes and rumored weekly love letters he received, seeing… him.
“Hi, Y/N. I’m Jungkook,” he says, gesturing towards himself as if you’d never seen him or heard of him. “I don’t know if you know me, I sit all the way in the back? With Taehyung and Jimin?”
“Hi, I know who you are, Jungkook,” you mumble.
“Oh, cool,” he says, still smiling. “I guess we’re together! For the assignment, I mean...”
“Yeah, I guess so. You don’t really have to worry about a thing, though. I can just send you an email later breaking down what each of us should do, or I can just do it all by myself, and we’ll-”
“Oh. No,” he says, quietly interrupting you. “I… can’t have that. I don’t think that’ll work.”
You felt whatever polite expression was on your face fade at that moment… What did he mean by ‘no’?
“I want to actually work on this… I want to work on it together… please.”
You had no idea what to think at that moment, only replaying his quiet, hushed ‘please’ over and over again as he stood beside you, fiddling with his earrings.
“Jungkook, I can take care of it. You really don’t have to…,” you start, but he interrupts you again, shaking his head and sitting down beside you in the now almost empty classroom.
“No, Y/N. I..,” he starts in a hushed tone. “I’m really falling behind in this class and we have the exam coming up…. It’s not just that, it all seems so interesting it’s just that my stupid brain can’t comprehend much of it.”
Jeon Jungkook? Falling behind? Admitting to an unknown fact? Call himself ‘stupid’? Sitting in front of you, he’d finally been looking at you, his wide eyes lowered since the moment he’d approached. It was eerie too see, a look behind the curtain into the life of your community’s local celebrity when you’d been nothing but just another spectator.
“Look, I always want to do things on my own too, so I get where you're coming from...” he continues, “…and that must mean you can try to understand how desperate I am here. It’s hard to ask for help, but… I need it. I’m not lazy, I promise. I need actual… help... please.”
So that’s why.
The shock faded away in an instant. If there was one thing you might've been known for at university, it would definitely have been your grades. Strangers came and went, looking for “the fat girl at the top of the class," as a couple of students kindly called you, never bothering to ask your name. They never got consideration back or even a glance in their direction, let alone your work when they dared to ask to copy it…. but… Jeon Jungkook asked for help. Not to copy the homework, get basic instructions, or an "in" with certain professors. But help. And for the chance to work on it together.
A refusal rested at the tip of your tongue, even then, but that quiet ‘please’ was still on a loop in your mind…
How could you say no?
“Yes! Good! Great, okay,” Jungkook says enthusiastically. Did he always have a wife, bunny-toothed smile? It was adorable. “Can we meet at the library tomorrow?”
“Perfect. Get ready, Y/N. I have a lot of questions. Oh, wait, first of all - what was that song you were humming on your way out of class yesterday?”
┅ ┅ ┅ ┅
You suspected it would be the one study session to get Jungkook up to speed and lay out the work for the assignment. But the one session turned into two, which turned into three, and before you knew it, you and Jungkook would be meeting at the library every single day.
It was… overwhelming to say the least. The workload, definitely, as well as the added time spent teaching him but on top of that… the stares and whispers nearly set you off when other students, even his own friends, Taehyung and Jimin, would murmur ineligible words when they'd spot you together in the library. It didn't slip past you that it definitely must’ve been a weird sight, the Jeon Jungkook sitting next to a nobody like you... but when you were actually with him, the world around you faded away. All that mattered was the material you knew by heart and the boy who needed to learn it. And boy, did he need to.
After an hour of explaining the material to him one day, he’d continued to stare at you blankly. “Jungkook…. Are you even listening to me?” you resigned multiple times, realizing he had a tendency to space out at random points throughout the day. It was enough to almost tempt you to ghost him and just present him with a finished assignment or a detailed lesson plan.... but when he snapped out of it, he always hit you with an adorable, child-like pout and that irresistible plea: “Can you explain it to me again, please?”
So, you resisted the urge you felt before and after study sessions, to neglect him and stop the meetings altogether. In truth, you could’ve. Jungkook would do well enough to pass... but you couldn't accept him achieving the bare minimum. "I'm trying to steal your crown," he joked on day two, proving one of the many things you and everyone else had heard about Jeon Jungkook.
Finding out something new about Jungkook was to turn the page on the most fascinating book you'd ever read with limitless pages, for it seemed as though he and his talents could be described as such. It - he - was awe-inspiring, new, and enticing in the best of ways. And at times, it felt like it was only yours to hold, for you were the person discovering aspects to him, hardly believing it been you realizing it yourself, up close and personal.
He was definitely a competitive one, that, everyone knew - but you’d realized it went far beyond sports - aiming to rival you and fellow Dean's List candidate Kim Namjoon for the valedictorian spot despite admitting he'd still be behind if he tried his hardest, just thankful to have some worthy competitors. It proved that it was real ambition that Jungkook had in him. In contrast to the rumors that he never really cared about his studies, you saw just how clever and curious he'd been, in addition to his dedication in showing up every day, even when he didn't need to. He loved everything he did and never limited himself, whereas you’d been studying as much as you could in your field only to further advance in your comfort zone of academia. When you'd revealed this to him, he, ever the competitive one, expressed his jealousy at the stability ahead of you, helping ease the countless worries you'd had about your own future.
And, you’d discovered the fact that he’s, surprisingly for an artist and musician, more in his element when it came to logic, numbers, and science - with spreadsheets, calculations, and graphs just to keep track of your progress on the assignment, though he skewed the numbers to work on the assignment further. It frustrated him most as he struggles with words, essays, and theoretical concepts, which never made sense to you, considering he felt so much and made you feel so much in return. It was never stress or anger, even on the hardest of days - he had a surprisingly relaxed attitude for such an accomplished athlete. Rather, he expressed patience and envy when you'd been teaching him, and what got you most - his awe at the subject matter… even though he zoned out often. His eyes lit up whenever he started to understand something… you could swear you almost saw stars in his pupils whenever something evidently clicked inside his brain. And every time it did, every time you felt that damned butterfly in your stomach whenever he smiled… only to leave the study session to see daggers in your direction… you had to remind yourself - you were just here to help him.
He was Jeon Jungkook, for crying out loud. You were just another person who started to like him, as everyone does.
You had to remind yourself that his eyes were ordinary, brown eyes - no matter how big and starry they'd looked on certain nights. That though you’d gotten used to the way his soapy scent blended with that of the books around you, the familiarity of the books’ sweetness on its own was just as lovely. That people were looking. That he asked to study, not to get to know you. And that he had his pick of anyone he wanted in the entire university and beyond... there's no reason he'd want to spend time with you for longer than he had to and for more than you had been spending already. Your mental reminders only worked that hard when you had work to do.
For the first time in your life, you felt like a fool. For laughing at his every joke. For continuing to study with him and not putting an end to it the first time your heart fluttered. For not stopping the crush that you had on Jeon Jungkook. Though you felt like one, you never acted like a fool in front of him - at least, you didn’t think so, holding onto that paper-thin hope to at least ground you in some way. It was just as easy to remember that the sheer impossibility of anything happening, plus the actual studying, were at the forefront. It was hard to kill the butterflies, though. They returned every day, whenever you’d bounce off one another in explanation and conversation, drifting off-topic and sometimes getting personal, when he joked around and tried to convince you that university isn’t actually the end of the world… or even when you simply sat working together in comfortable silence.
That was exactly how it was on a regular Thursday afternoon. Tucked away in your corner of the library, you and Jungkook worked away peacefully when a student you’d never seen walked up to Jungkook. A regular occurrence, seeing as he was so popular.
“Hey, Kookie,” you hear, your eyes still fixated on your screen.
“Hey, Jia,” he replies. You can’t tell if he looked up at her or not. Did he? What did his eyes say? Fuck, why should you care?
“Hey, what… what are you doing?” she says with a giggle. If your peripheral sight was to be trusted, she placed her hand on his shoulder. You shouldn’t care, but resist a smile when he shoves it away. “You’re here every day, Jungkookie. Aren’t you bored? Like… what are you doing?”
“I’m working,” he replies.
“What about her?”
Glancing at her direction, you could see it on her - Jia's - face that she definitely didn’t know your name, and you knew the stares you got well enough to know the look on her face was one of confusion or, dare you say it, disgust. Jungkook's eyes flickered down from you, before returning to his notes.
“Y/N and I have that assignment together,” he replies, “the final project for Mr. P’s class before the exam.”
“Ohhhhhh,” she says, nodding in realization. “Okay, that makes sense then,” she giggles. “See you, Kookie. Call me if you want to have some fun tonight.”
To you, it was clear as day what she meant. That makes sense. In a way, she was right. It was the only possible way Jungkook would be sitting here, with you, every single day. He never would have - wouldn’t have even known you existed - if he hadn’t been paired with you. He made sense with girls like Jia - someone he’d have fun with rather than study with and beautiful in every way society wanted her to be, starting with her model-like body to compliment his built one. That made sense, you reminded yourself.
It must’ve been a good minute since you’d done anything on your computer, so focused on making sure the pesky insects in your stomach were dead, that you barely heard your name being called repeatedly until Jungkook waved his hand in front of your screen.
“What?” you jolt, seeing his crouched head peeking to look at you.
“I was asking if you could throw this. The trash can is next to you.”
Jungkook hands you a piece of paper, unfolded, before sitting down and staring back at his screen, this time with his headphones on. You move to throw the paper out in a hurry, almost missing what was scribbled on it.
Jia’s name and phone number.
┅ ┅ ┅ ┅
Before you knew it, the deadline for the assignment arrived, and you and Jungkook were done. After a particularly long night at the library finalizing the paper, you uploaded the document and he hit the daunting blue button titled ‘submit’.
“YES!” Jungkook cheers from behind you, having looked over your shoulder to submit the paper together. With his head right beside yours with his arm planted on the desk in front of you, the veins you’d never noticed before on full display. Just when you realized it had been too close not to get panicked, he forces your chair to spin and face him, sticking his hand out for a high-five. “We did it!”
“We did,” you sigh, meeting his hand, pushing away the feeling of it in your mind.
“Why on Earth do you look sad?” Jungkook asks. “We should be celebrating! Let’s go get fried chicken!”
“Just thinking of the exam coming up and my other paper,” you half-lie.
How could you tell him you’re already mourning the time you spent together? He shouldn’t catch on, though…
“But I guess you’re right. It is a good thing that we’re done with it.” Really, it was. The delusional thoughts would cease. Might as well say goodbye. “It’s been fun… getting to do this and getting to know you, Jungkook.”
You reach out your hand for a high-five, as he had, but instead of going to meet it, he takes two steps back, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You think you’re getting rid of me that easily?” he questions, cocking his brow.
“You said it yourself. We have the exam coming up.”
“Jungkook, you should be fine. You aced that assignment.”
“No, absolutely not. I want… I need you. Your presence motivates me, and when I’m with you, I feel at ease…. with the material. It’s less scary.” It’s hard to ignore how wide Jungkook’s pupils had gotten as he fidgeted with his lip ring.
“Jungkook, Mr. P's exams are beasts unearthed from the very depths of hell. If I’m being completely honest, I can’t spend all my time teaching you," you say, speaking the truth.
“I’m not even asking for that. Just let me be near or around you. I’ll be quiet and ask minimal questions in the case of an emergency.”
Staring up at him, he had the same pleading and innocent expression on his face when he first approached you after you’d been assigned together. The time you spent together only confirmed that when he bit his lower lip and simultaneously arched his brows inwards and upwards… he was serious and pleading.
“I… might kick you out some days, Jungkook. When I need to focus extra hard.”
“Kick me out, then. Say the word, and I’m gone. And on the flip side, say the word, and I’m there - with anything you need. Like…. iced coffee! I know your order by now. Iced Vanilla Latte with an extra shot of espresso.”
Jungkook retraces his steps, standing right over you. It’s only when his hand reaches out do you realize your arm is upright, your unmet high-five still in the air. His hand meets yours softly, and without a single sound, fingers and palms perfectly aligned. His skin was calloused from his paintbrush and instruments, cushioned against your soft skin, his slender fingers towering over your wide ones… Pulling your hand down, your fingers get caught in his, which slightly curved towards you before your hand slips away.
Taking a deep breath, you notice Jungkook clear his throat. Suddenly, neither of you knew what to do with your hands, but he thinks fast, stuffing them in his pockets before finally looking back at you.
“Deal,” you yield, foolishly.
┅ ┅ ┅ ┅
Thank God you were smart as fuck.
Because though Jungkook kept true to his word, it turns out it was extremely hard to focus when your crush was doing one of two things - either quietly sitting beside you in all his glory (with no distractingly helpful responsibility of teaching him) or worse, when he was tending to you. There were the iced coffees, the water intake reminders, the extra highlighters, the space he gave you when he felt you needed it - even checking in with an “I’ll kick myself out for today” on a particularly stressful night before you knew you needed to do it yourself, for some alone time. You rarely wanted it anymore anyways. His questions and interruptions were few, always pleasant, of course, and never took up much of your time. It was worth it, seeing that proud smile of his when he now answered his own questions, just making sure from you that they were actually correct. The butterflies never stopped, especially considering he now sat beside you in the front corner of Mr. P’s lecture hall, abandoning Jimin and Taehyung on the other side of the room... The random, beautiful doodles he adorned your notebook with always made you smile harder whenever you studied - he was there even when he wasn’t.
“I knew you’d still be here,” Jungkook says, walking to your desk in the quiet library. Looking at the clock on your screen, you finally realize the time.
“What can I say?” you sigh. “What are you doing here, Jungkook? Isn't today Jimin's party, or whatever it was?”
“It was, and it might've been the dullest party Jimin ever threw. I know you cruelly rejected my invitation, but honestly... I don't blame you. It was the same old stuff and people and.. here's way more fun," he explained.
"Oh, come on," you reply, rolling your eyes. "Go back to the party, Jungkook. There's no way you think studying is more fun than even the most boring party at Jimin's."
"Hmmm... you're right. I still picked you instead because I missed you." The sentence escapes Jungkook's lips so quickly you didn't have a chance to realize what he'd said before he went on. "I wish you'd come... to give yourself a break. Knowing you'd be here, I decided to come and force you to rest. I also know that you haven’t eaten yet and that we still didn’t celebrate our assignment. We really should celebrate now, anyways.”
“What do you mean?”
“You didn’t check your email?”
You move to frantically get to your laptop before he blocks you. “No, you’re done for the day. Or at least, the hour - you didn't move all day, and I'm worried. Plus, your eyes are too tired. Should I get eye drops?”
“Jungkook... what score did we get?!”
“Only a 95%,” he shrugs, acting cool and uncaring before finally breaking into a wide smile. “We did it!”
A 95% was among the highest scores you’d ever gotten at university - a mark good enough to ensure you'd be the valedictorian instead of Kim Namjoon, who you’d been in competition with ever since freshman year. Not only that, 95% was a fast track that allowed you to possibly get your work published. Shrieking, you jump up from your chair and into Jungkook’s open arms. Realizing your position in the rush of it all, with your head on his shoulder, his tucked into the crook of your neck, and his hands wrapped around your plush waist… your heart only raced faster, which you didn’t think was possible. You quickly unravel your arms from around his back, and it takes a second longer for him to do the same.
You just hugged Jeon Jungkook. Why was he red? Probably ashamed, wondering if anyone saw him hug you.
“I never thought I'd... hear you scream in the library," he laughs, turning to a paper bag he'd placed on the table when he arrived. "I brought that fried chicken to celebrate. Let’s sit a while. You still need a break from all the screens.”
“I’d love to, but I can’t… eat here.”
“There are some students around. You, too.”
“So? No one will mind the smell of fried chicken. That couple over there is eating it, too.”
"No, it’s…." you sigh, feeling as though you’re finally exposing some sort of unknown truth to Jungkook, despite the fact that he could obviously see you. "It’ll only make people judge me more. Stare at me more. For eating something like this in public. It’s like I…shouldn’t… with everything I’ve got going on. Like… it’s shameful?”
“But there’s nothing to be ashamed about. Nothing at all.” Jungkook looked just as confused as he’d been when he didn’t understand something in the lesson plan, but suddenly, it shifted to his ‘got it’ state. When he finally knew what to do. “Fuck it. Fuck everyone. Sit. Let’s eat. If anyone dares to look at you…. or, God forbid, say anything... You know I'm on the university's wrestling team, right?"
You nod and laugh because everyone knew, but he goes on. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure the whole university does, so I'd like to see some punk try anything."
He goes silent, shaking his head as he unloads the bag he brought and encouraging you to eat until he'd already finished half the bucket. Hesitantly, you grab a drumstick before finally taking a bite with your eyes fixated on Jungkook the entire time. You’d have avoided his gaze, even turned away, but with his raised brows and a closed-mouth smile, desperately awaiting your review… you knew you had to give him an answer fast, and you do so after the very first bite, shooting him a thumbs up. It was really good - sweet, sour, and spicy all at once. With your second bite and his proud smile, you recall another rumor you’d heard about Jungkook long ago. That he went on a tour of all the fried chicken spots in the city to find the best one. Asking him about it, you didn’t expect to find out that not only was it true, but it was also a life-long, worldwide mission of his - “Forget all the shit I’m talented at, this is my life’s purpose,” he proclaimed, saying that the chicken he'd brought had been his favorite so far. "And I wouldn't get you anything less than the best I’ve found, darling."
You felt your face flush, knowing Jungkook must've called you that jokingly. Still, the pet name sent your mind into overdrive, more than the studying did, as you fed your delusions for a little while. Darling.
You could've sworn you were actually living in your delusions later that night when he dropped you home for the very first time. The conversation never stopped, even until you were standing by your apartment building. "Still gonna study?" he asked, staring at your door.
"Maybe," you replied, knowing you'd be too delusional to do so, and if you tried, you would only end up staring at the words and cursing Jungkook for being too perfect and making you this way.
"Well, do you want to eat ramyeon now?” he’d said with a giggle. Catching you off guard, you nearly choked on air at the double entendre coming from him, but rolled your eyes and answered with a simple “Yes” instead, only for his smile to fade quickly.
Your fat ass should not be making jokes like that when you knew damn well you wouldn’t have shot. Especially not after dinner.
"I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Jungkook," you hurriedly say, attempting to dash inside, only for your jacket to get caught on the way in. Looking down, you realize it hadn't been the knob that stopped it but rather Jungkook's fingers, clutching onto the fabric before letting it slip away. "Sorry. Goodnight."
┅ ┅ ┅ ┅
The moment kept replaying in your head, buried in your hands on the desk, agonizing over the humiliation as a break from agonizing over the workload. You had time to agonize today, Jungkook wasn’t there yet. If he saw you like that, he’d nudge you to get out of it.
Jolted by the sudden voice of a woman, you look up to see Jia. “Hi,” you say, too awkwardly even for you. “Can I help you with something? Jungkook’s not here if you’re looking for him.”
“I can see that,” she scoffs. “I came to talk to you.” In all this time, your first run-in with her had been your only semblance of interaction, though you hadn't ever spoken to each other.
“What’s going on… between the two of you?”
“Me and... Jungkook? He told you, we had that assignment together….”
“That’s done,” she snaps.
“And now I’m just helping out with his studies.”
“Then why did Nani see him drop you home?”
“We’re… friends, Jia,” you mutter. You’d never called Jungkook that before, a friend, but you can’t help but think it’s fitting to do so... It fit, didn’t it? Weren’t you… friends? At the very least? Or...
“We’re classmates,” you quickly add.
“Friends - that's the funniest shit I've heard. His actual friends, Jimin and Taehyung refuse to tell me anything when he left that party. They were probably concerned and unsettled by it all…. I mean, everyone here can see how much you gush over him, you know? It’s embarrassing. I don’t know how he doesn’t see it and steer clear - especially since you should come with a cattle crossing sign, seriously.”
Was it that obvious?
“We all know he's just using you for that piece of meat between your ears until the exam's over. He's not an idiot, you know? Don’t get carried away thinking anyone outside your league would be interested in you.”
An emptiness grew with the uncovering of a deep fear of yours. Of course. Of course, he was still using you, you idiot... It was just the help he needed. Neither of you could have gotten the 95% on your own... He said he needed the help... the mark... She was right. He wasn't an idiot... but wasn't the Jungkook you knew too kind to use someone like that?
It was then that your phone, lying on the desk, lit up with a message, clear as day for the both of you to read.
[from: jungkook] “i’m on my way to you rn. brought kimbap!! hope you like it. made it myself :) ”
“Pft. He knows how to keep a fat girl on his hook. You fucking whale.”
You fucking fool.
“Heyooooooo!” you hear from a short distance in that familiar singsong voice that tugged at your heartstrings. Jungkook turned a corner and finally appeared from between the shelves. “Kimbap! Wait, what the fuck is wrong?”
Shit. You hadn’t realized tears were streaming down your face. As if you could be any more humiliated. Not even able to glance his way, despite him repeating the question over and over again, mere steps away from you, you stuff your things into your bag and rush out.
The last thing you catch is Jia’s scoff.
┅ ┅ ┅ ┅
Suddenly, avoiding Jungkook was easy. That urge you had long ago, the one in line with you, Jungkook, and the ways of the world…. Your two different worlds.
He’d chased you, easily getting to you and stopping you. Repeating his question again.
“Nothing,” you had let out, staring at the ground. You couldn’t talk if you wanted to.
“Are you kidding? What is it? Tell me…” he says quietly, putting his hands on your shoulders. You shake them off in an instant, walking away, only for him to follow close behind. “What is it? You’re not okay.”
“Bullshit - I’ve obviously seen you stressed. This isn’t it. I’ve never seen-”
“Jungkook, I’m kicking you out. Keep your word that you’ll stay out,” you snap, finally turning to look at him in the crowded library. If he’d never seen you this way, you’d never seen him that way either. Hurt. You can’t see why. He got what he wanted out of you, plus you’d told him you’d kick him out….
If only it was easy to keep him out. Jungkook had always listened when it came to the material, but it was as if he never knew how to in any other regard. His texts and calls over the weekend went ignored until you finally mustered up the courage to block him. You thought that would be that - Jungkook would go back to his world, and you’d go back to yours - but on your first day back, you find him sitting on the floor at the door to the library at the crack of dawn.
You’d specifically gone that early to avoid Jungkook - who always showed up during the late afternoons or evenings after having just woken up then on his off days. Yet here he was, sitting cross-legged by the glass door you’d walked into together countless times, glancing at the handful of other students with exams and deadlines as they walked in, out, and around him. Even from a distance away, you could see how wide his doe-eyes were. And he jumps up the moment he spots you slowly approaching the door.
“How’d you know I’d be here?” you ask quietly, trying to avoid his gaze.
“You say that as if you don't practically live in the library," he says, almost amused. "If you mean how I knew you'd be here so early - I took a chance. I would’ve waited all day until I saw you… All week, if that's what it took. And I probably would've convinced Mr. P to include a note with your exam sheet if you decided you disliked me until then.”
….Shit. Sure, you’d never end up with him, but he only fidgeted with the loose strings on his hoodie when he was really stressed - a sight you'd only seen once after a supposed tough day at wrestling practice. Now, they'd been undone with a hole at the bottom of the thick fabric. Knowing you caused it...
“I’m sorry, Jungkook. I shouldn’t have…”
“Yeah. You shouldn’t have,” he grumbles before shaking his head. “No, you don’t... You don’t owe me anything. You don’t owe me your time… I should’ve stayed “out” like I promised, but… I just want to know if you were okay.”
“I am,” you barely let out. With tears bubbling in your eyes, you walk into the library.
“I don’t believe it,” he says, trailing you.
“I kicked you out remember. Stay out. Why do you even care?!" you say, without turning back.
“I care about you!”
When you finally stop to stare at him, Jungkook doesn't allow you to deny him, immediately grabbing your hand and pulling you deep into the library, through the twisty, student-filled desks, between sky-high bookshelves.
“Y/N, I want you to be okay. You don’t owe me an explanation if you don’t want to tell me anything, but… that's all I want. For you to be okay and happy and... you can't lie to me and tell me that you're alright. You can kick me out as much as you want to, I promised I would let you do so, but I'll always be waiting for you right outside that door. If you'll allow me to... I'll always be here for you."
The tears come pouring out, and without a thought, you rush into him, sobbing into his chest. “Hey, hey,” he says, a hand in your hair and the other soothing your back. "I’m here. I told you I'm here.” You missed his embrace. Had assumed you’d never feel it again. You probably won’t, past this point.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, with his arms wrapped firmly around your waist as you stare up at him. “Is it the stress?”
“No, Jungkook…. It’s.. you.”
“Me?!” he says, gesturing towards himself.
“Well, no, actually… I guess it’s me,” you mumble, staring at his hands, now at his sides.
“I don’t understand, Y/N.”
“Jungkook, we need to stop these study sessions. Not for a week but… I’m permanently kicking you out, and I don't know if I have it in me to ever unlock that stupid metaphorical door again.”
“Exile, huh?" To your surprise, he nods. "At least let me know this… Am I that annoying?”
Out of desperation, you almost say yes, but you’ve been cruel enough - Jungkook didn’t deserve any of it.
“No. No, not at all…”
He pauses. “I don't understand, but if this will make you happier, all I can say in this case is… thank you. I don't about my grades as much as you do, so I'm really just thank you for all this time. I…. I liked…. I liked spending this time... spending this time with you,” Jungkook lets out, his voice breaking.
Looking up at him, you see his eyes red. Was he about to cry too?
“It won’t,” you mumble.
“What?” he asks, looking down at you as if he were looking up, teary-eyed and innocent.
You either tell him, or tell him nothing and risk…. other people telling him, along with their own added commentary on how you weren’t good enough. It would be easier just to let that happen... Letting go of him yourself, despite the pain, would be more merciful on you both. So, you do, breaking away from his embrace.
“It won’t make me happier if we stopped.”
“Then do we have to?”
“We do… Jungkook, we need to stop because… for the first time in my life... I’ve set myself up for failure.”
“You’re the smartest person in the entire university. How on Earth did you set yourself up to fail?”
"Because I did it by stupidly falling for the best person in this entire university. I... like you, Jungkook," you spit out, hiding your face in your hands as soon as the confession leaves your lips.
“How is that setting yourself up for failure?” he sniffs.
You can’t help but notice a shift in his tone as he pulls your hands away from your face and tilts your chin towards him. He looked as serious as he sounded.
“Jungkook, be real.”
He stares at you, confused.
“You’re.... a star. Everyone here knows who you are - you're the best in every field imaginable - sports, art, music, academia, and on top of all of that, you're the sweetest, kindest, smartest - fucking best person I, well, everyone knows. And... look at you and look at me. I make sense of everything in this world, and this doesn’t make sense. Everyone knows it. They already give us weird looks for even sitting together. I know you just needed help, and I was happy to offer it, but I thought I'd be smarter than this. I think you probably offered to be there for me as a friend. I think we're friends, right? Either way, I think I've been an idiot for even thinking of you in that-"
Jungkook's lips meet yours, interrupting your ramble, train of thought, and your breathing with a kiss.
“You think too much," he whispers against your lips, stroking your soft cheek with the back of his index finger. "That’s exactly why you haven’t been setting yourself up for failure, genius. I like you too.”
“No.... Stop," you say, taking two steps away from him. "Jungkook, you're being mean."
It had to have been a prank. Jungkook being so committed onto getting a good grade, once again.
"You can't use me like this. And what, you'll ghost me after the exam? After all the help? Pretend I never existed?"
"Do you really think I'd do that?" he asks, letting out a huff with his eyebrows furrowed. You'd never seen Jungkook.... angry. "If I weren't so goddamn in love with you, I'd give up right here and now. I'd be ashamed rather than being even more hurt than I was, Y/N." Taking a deep breath, Jungkook collects himself. "I wouldn't spend a semester with you if that was the case. I don't know why you'd think... that."
"It doesn't make sense, Jungkook...."
“it makes sense to me,” he says, stepping towards you until he was inches away, you could almost feel the heat radiating from his chest. “Why does it not make sense to you? You’re clever, aren't you? What’s that theory - every action has an equal and opposite reaction? You like me and I like you. Equal. Two-ways. Makes perfect sense to me.”
“So… you aren’t just using me for help?” you ask. "You... like me?"
“No, no, I’m not using you for your brain…." he says snarkily before tapping his forehead against yours and letting out a smug laugh. "In fact, I think you’ve been pretty stupid.”
“I said pretty stupid. And by that, I mean pretty, but also pretty... kind of stupid. You’re smarter than this, usually…." Jungkook envelops his arms around your waist once again, trapping you.
"Y/N, now I want you to think for a second… Did I really need all that help I asked for? Did I really make it onto the Dean's List when I was supposedly doing that badly? Did I really not understand? Did I really need to sit beside you while we both worked? I’ll let you in on a secret… sometimes I used to finish up my work before you and just played mini-games on the computer.”
“Sure, you helped me a little bit, but it was... heaven getting you to explain things to me, especially the things I already knew. It meant I could just spend my time staring at you, getting all passionate and excited. Do you know how wide you smile when I act like I 'get it'? Or whenever I actually do. It's why I keep asking you to repeat it - I can never retain any of the new information because all my brain wants to focus on is you.
For God's sake, ask Taehyung and Jimin. Ask them how much I talk about you. Did you ever actually listen to what they say when they specifically see us together in here?"
"I assumed they were making fun of you," you mumble.
Jungkook scoffs. "Yeah, no, Y/N. They tease me for having the guts to fight but not to confess, they kept trying to pressure me to do so."
It's hard to remember that Jungkook was a trained fighter when his embrace felt so safe, you think, staring at his torso in disbelief.
"Still don't believe me? Ask Mr. P how we got assigned together for that paper.”
The sentence stuns you to your core, jerking your head up to face him.
“I never needed that much help. I just… I wanted to spend time with the girl I'd had a crush on since I got here and didn’t know how to. I like you…. I always have…. idiot,” he says, pulling you closer to him until his lips meet yours in another kiss.
Just this once, you were euphoric to be so stupid.
༊*·˚All To Myself - ONE
✧.* Pair - Miguel O'hara x Fem! Reader
✧.* Tags & Warnings - talks about sex and one tiny mention of God, Y/N is implied to be bisexual, and she has a belly piercing because belly piercings are hot girl energy.
✧.* Word Count -1,317
How does someone begin with Y/N L/N.
She was often described as softhearted, beautiful, a good girl, and generous with everyone around her. A lot of people only had good things to say about her. She always had handsome men and pretty women fall to their hands and knees for her, but she was never interested in them. And she never knew why.
Because of her constant rejection of anyone who came her way, she remained a virgin. She never felt embarrassed by the fact that she was an adult virgin. She wasn't 30 years old, she was only 20 so it wasn't that horrible.
There were times when she felt a tad bit ashamed that she was still a virgin. Whenever she was invited to sleepovers, her friends would always talk about their sweet sex lives. They would go into detail on how their partners or one night stands would make them cum in the wildest ways. Y/N could only hold herself in silence while she listened to the stories.
She remembers the first time she told her friends she was still a virgin. They all just looked at her in silence, which made her insecure until one of her friends spoke up. It's not like her friend, Jules, spoke up to defend her about being a virgin, she actually did the opposite; "Bitch, this isn't the 80's! You need to catch a dick!"
Of course, Y/N wanted to lose her virginity, but the only problem is, she wanted to lose it to someone she was in love with. Not just some random person she calls her boyfriend or girlfriend she has no real romantic feelings for. She's seen her friends do that a lot and she absolutely hated it. She wants to have sex with someone she can call her fiance in the future.
While she has rejected many, that didn't mean Y/N wasn't attracted to anyone. She's had her fair share of crushes, but there was one crush that stood out. He was a handsome, tan-skinned man with broad shoulders. Y/N would always watch him whenever she would see him in public. She would always fawn over the man and sometimes even imagine herself holding his hand like she was his girlfriend. But there was one problem; he was a father.
The reason Y/N found that a problem was because of two main reasons. One of them being he most likely has a wife and the second being he must be truly in love with his wife if he's always seen smiling with his little girl. Y/N didn't have any real evidence to back up her claims, but she didn't want to take her chances on a happily married man. That is if he was happily married.
It was a regular day for everyone. Quite boring to say the least. All Y/N wanted to do was stay in her apartment and do nothing, but that thought came crashing down when her brother called her. He asked Y/N if she can take care of her nephew for a few hours, making Y/N sigh. She wanted to tell him no with a burning passion, but since it was her nephew, she couldn't.
"Yeah, sure. I'll take care of him," she said with fake enthusiasm in her voice.
When her nephew, Caleb, was dropped off, he immediately wanted to go to the park. She didn't blame the kid. Nothing in her apartment caught the attention of an 8-year-old that was in love with soccer and Spiderman.
As soon as they got to the park, Caleb was already going to the soccer field. "Don't go far!" Y/N yelled out, making her nephew turn around and give her a thumbs up. She sighed and turned to her left, her eyes catching a soda vending machine. She bought a soda and sat down on some nearby benches, but as soon as she opened the can, a soccer ball went flying straight to the soda can. When the soda fell, it luckily fell to the side so none could get on Y/N's skirt and thighs.
"I'm sorry ma'am, I didn't mean to kick it toward you," Y/N heard a small feminine voice say. She looked to her right and saw a small girl, no more older than 7, wearing full soccer gear and her hair tied up in a pony tail.
'It was just a kid' Y/N thought to herself. She couldn't get mad at a kid, especially one who apologized. Y/N could only smile, "It's quite alright, sweetheart. I know you didn't mean it."
"Gabriella, I keep telling you to be careful where you kick! You could have seriously hurt her!"
Y/N's heart stopped. It was him. The handsome man that Y/N was a little head over heels for. He was jogging in her direction and was concerned for Y/N.
"I'm sorry, Papi! I didn't mean to kick it her way!" The little girl, whose name was Gabriella, said to her father. She had that tone in her voice that kids always have when they don't want to get in trouble. Y/N had to clear the air so Gabriella wouldn't get in trouble.
"Oh don't worry Mister, it was an accident. She already apologized. There's no need to worry." Y/N said to the father.
"Well, at least you didn't get hurt Miss-"
"Y/N, my name is Y/N" She held out her hand to shake and he happily accepted. Y/N took a quick glance at his hand and noticed one thing. There wasn't a ring on his finger, making her celebrate in her head. She was finally able to throw away her thoughts of him being happily married.
The man smiled at her name. He thought that was a beautiful name for a beautiful young woman such as herself. "My name is Miguel O'hara and this is my daughter Gabriella." his daughter waved at you and you waved back. "What are you doing here in the park all alone?" Miguel asked.
"Oh, I'm not alone. I'm actually here with my nephew, he's over there playing soccer with those group of boys." Y/N pointed out. Miguel could only nod at her reply. He wanted to ask her more about her life because, to him, she seemed like an interesting girl. But he didn't want to intrude on a girl he just met a couple of seconds ago.
Miguel turned to his side and noticed the spilled soda on the bench. "Shit, I am terribly sorry for the soda. Here let me buy you another on-" Miguel got interrupted by the young woman in front of him.
"No, no, no! It's alright, I promise!"
"It's quite alright, Mister O'Hara."
Miguel just smiled at the girl.
Something felt strange for O'hara. He felt attracted to the girl in front of him. He wasn't a soulless monster, he has fallen in love before, but his attraction for Y/N was something strange. It was something about her. Miguel started to admire her features. The way she dressed was attracting him for some reason. He didn't know if it was her short denim skirt that was making him want to bend her over or if it was her midriff pink top that showed off her cute belly piercing.
It was weird. A woman hasn't gotten his attention quick like how Y/N caught his attention. For God's sake, he was already thinking of bending her over. How was his mind already drifting off to inappropriate things with a girl he barerly met. He didn't know if it was her doe eyes looking at him or the way she smiled at him.
One thing was for sure, he needed to get close to her.
˖◛. *. ⋆ Vanilla Speaks
Judy pace is so beautiful
I wanted to make this longer but i got my nails done and its so tiring typing in acrylics on a laptop keyboard. For me at least.
Also, I was kind of thinking of starting it with Y/N and Miguel already having problems but I was like "No, a lot of my fav books always start in the far beginning"
also yes i did take a line from euphoria idc
Taglist - @um-well @brown-eyed-thang @d1lf-loverrr @jaenniii @elliesbeautifulwife @sopiasleeps @blackqueengold @shylonelyleaf @thedevillovesflowers
High Infidelity | Scarlett Johansson
Pairings: Scarlett Johansson x Y/N
Warnings: Light Smut and Angst
Some people always ask me out, thinking I might be single. Ending with me, embarrassed by declining their offer, politely of course.
The reason behind those refusal is that I'm married. Yes, at the age of 25, I'm already married. I love my wife and I would never, ever, try to hurt her in any way.
Our relationship is strong. Even though a staggering amount of people abhorred our relationship mainly because I'm from a scarp and she's she, and probably they hated the age gap. My wife is the one and only Scarlett Johansson. Yes, I manage to pull her into falling for me.
We've been in a 2 years relationship, and got married for 3 years and counting. When it comes with our status, it is very disparate in nature. She is an A list, most respected, highest paid, and the most beautiful woman in the whole industry. While me, I'm just a coffee shop owner and that's where we met, well it's my parents so technically I own nothing.
Today, I'm currently at our house, bored. I've done the cleaning, the cooking, and now I'm just watching a boring tv show.
Scarlett's been very busy lately. She got jumpy and she have this snappy behavior that I don't know where it came from. Anyways, I just shrug those off thinking she was just stressed from her bulk of works but earlier, I saw a text message from her phone from a guy named Thatcher, saying " I'll meet you at the hotel. Room 108. :*" I tried to ask her about it but then again, she just ignore my question, annoyed. She left me wonder about who might that be and what could they possibly doing in a hotel.
Perhaps gaslighting myself that Scarlett is just in a work meeting with that Thatcher, is helping, or I thought so, until the idea of her cheating crossed my mind.
She won't cheat on me, right? She promised me that. I took all of her fans hatred towards me. All the insults, and threat. I was disowned by my own parents cause of marrying a woman, a 15 years older than me for christ sake. If she cheated, I'm left with no one.
I get up and took a shower before changing into some sweats, a black hoodie, with a cap and the sunglasses. I know this is very insensitive but I'm compulsive, I will try and see what she's upto.
Currently, I'm here at the hotel lounge, double checking if this is the right hotel. Thankfully, Scarlett hasn't turned off her location and I used it to track her phone. It seems like I'm really at the right hotel so I went to the front desk.
"Hi, I'm looking for my wife's room. I'm going to surprise her." I asked the lady behind the counter nicely since I need to convince her to give me the keys.
"Oh, ummmm, Scarlett, Scarlett Johansson's my wife." I added while holding up a picture of me and Scar at our wedding. She hesitated at first but ended up giving me the keys anyways.
Well, I'm not totally lying about surprising Scar. I still bought a cake as an excuse if I saw nothing. I know, smart right? The things I do with paranoia.
Right now, I'm outside of the said room, debating if I should do this or not. After a moment of standing there, looking like a creep, I opened the door slowly, not trying to get any attention, just incase.
The room have this huge wall that divides the mini living room and the bed room.
As I was approaching the room, I heard noises. Upon hearing that, I want to cry right away. I want to run away but my feet brought me towards the noice. I crept behind the wall to see what they're doing and I fucking knew it!
Tears were already streaming down my face as I saw SCARLETT! having a pure bliss while hugging and riding this guy that I assume to be Thatcher.
I can feel the pressure building in my chest. It feels like my heart is pumping out so much blood that it makes my body go in there and beat the shit out of this guy. It hurts. It hurts so much. I don't want to feel this shit. I wanna sleep. I want to sleep until the pain is no more.
Instead of showing up, I remain hidden. Knowing if I escalate things, Scarlett will leave me and I will be left with nothing.
I slowly went out, gasping for air since panic attacks commonly occurs to me these days. Scarlett didn't knew about it. I drove home, took a shower, a cold shower hoping it would numb the pain but it didn't.
I have cried the shit out. I ran out of tears, I hope. I went out and change some comfortable clothes. As I was going downstairs to grab a water, I hear the front door open.
I still continue to walk towards the kitchen without recognising Scarlett's arrival.
"Hey!" She simply stated. It's the first time this month she greeted me first. I just gave her a small smile and a nod without looking at her face.
God, I wanna cry again.
I grab the water, and knowing she likes to have an apple juice when she got home, I brought her a glass of juice in the living room. I was about to go back upstairs when she cut me.
"No kisses for me, my love?" she teases. Probably noticing the lack of affection from me. She's used to have a baby like treatment from me though.
I just gave her a simple kiss on the cheeks and went right away to go to our room.
Days, weeks, a month came by and I still kept my distance. Slowly getting myself out of being used to have her. I still gave her, her favorite food that only I can cook, and her back massages after work, that only I, again can do.
Scarlett, on the other hand, notices the sudden change of my demanor. She spends most of her days at home bugging me into going out, or giving her a cuddle while watching a movie. Sometimes, I gave her what she wanted, but most if the time, I just reject her offer, telling her I'm busy.
It's currently 9pm and we're already in bed. I'm using my phone while she is just weirdly staring at the ceiling. Suddenly, she gets up and straddle my waist, kissing my neck slowly.
"Scarlett, I'm not in the mood." I tried to push her off but she's stronger than me. "You're never "not on the mood", Y/N" she continued kissing my neck until she reached my lips.
I missed kissing her lips. It's intoxicating. She kissing me passionately. I can feel the love. I still feel it. Maybe there's a chance of fixing this marriage.
I let her use me. Pounding me with her strap until she reached her climax. I never had mine since my mind was plastered with her, fucking another man. A tear went down to my face after she tells me "I love you, Y/N" and settled herself beside me, with her head on my shoulder.
All of my tears fell down uncontrollably after I make sure she's already sleeping. The pain is still there even though she's here in my arms, safe and sound.
I placed my lips on her forehead. "I love you so much that I cannot manage to do things that will destroy this marriage, even though you've already ruined it." I whispered. " I wish I haven't gone to see you that day. I wish I could just pretend that we were perfect." I paused for a moment, trying to catch my breath from sobbing. I looked at her sleeping figure and it makes me pull her more closer to me.
"It's ok. I will stay silent as long as I'm the one holding you at night. The one you come home to everyday. I don't care if you'll cheat on me again, but please, don't leave me. My heart could not handle that kind of pain."
I did nothing but cry that night, holding her tight in my arms, making sure she'll never leave me. Pulling her closer, checking her time after time, until I fell asleep in melancholy.
I heard everything she said. I felt so guilty, and I will do everything to make this right.
A/N: This is not proofread. Drop some comments about my writing. I'll gladly read it:)
"Even if everyone is against you."
⨾ summary: discriminated by everyone else for your sudden appearance beside the well-known general, he reassures you with the love he will always have for you despite everything else.
⨾ pairings: Jing Yuan x F!reader
"Why the long face my love?" A voice rang through the room, catching your attention.
You were playing with Mimi, feeling its soft fur as it lay on your lap but quickly gets off to approach its master.
"You're back" You say, disregarding his question as you smile at him.
He makes his way towards you, kneeling down and gently taking your hand, caressing it. "What's up?"
"It's nothing at all...." You respond, "Really."
Silence engulfed your shared room, feeling the awkward tension between the two of you before quickly switching the subject. "Ah, that reminds me! I heard that there'll be an upcoming competition soon, will you be joining?"
"I'm not sure... Do you want me to?" He ponders while he plays with your fingers.
You quickly shake your head, "No... But, maybe?"
He chuckled, before taking your hand near his lips, kissing it. "I'll join in and win. And I'll dedicate the price to you."
He squeezes your hand, his eyes looking up to yours with a dangerous glow. "-that way, no one will ever say nonsense about you anymore."
You stared at him with your eyes glistening with brightness as thoughts swirled around. 'He'd participate... Only for that?'
His eyes were looking down, as if it was stuck in a train of thought.
'Suddenly, I seem to understand his actions towards my communication through our peers. From his affectionate touches from time to time in public, his hands connecting to mines as we walk through the vast garden of greenery and flowers, His deathly glares towards those who looked at me with disgust and wariness. He's always concerned, because he's afraid that I might get hurt.'
"About what happened today..." I speak, his eyes who were adrift to the moonlight gazed at mines.
'But even at this moment...'
"Actually... " His eyes widened in range as I tell the events that occured and I look at him with such longing.
'...I hate that I want some certainty about his love for me.'
"They said I was too arrogant and so, filled with so much anger... I accidentally spilled tea on one of the attendants..."
"...I apologize for making such a big mess, I took their words to heart and I doubted your love for me- " I try to send my apologies, but he cut me off.
"Wait, wait." He paused, sighing.
"(Name)." He stood up, taking both my hands to help me stand up.
"To me, You're the most important."
"So whatever happened today and what you heard, just tell me. Don't keep things from me my love..."
Tears slowly stained my cheeks one by one and found my arms slowly wrapped around him. 'I was scared that he'll get mad that I felt, and acted this way just because of that.'
"Yuan. If I truly mean the most to you...Can you fulfill my wish?" I ask, feeling his heart beat.
"I don't have any reason not to."
"Then, Please don't get sick of me." He sighs, resting his head on my shoulder as I feel his warm breath.
"What kind of wish is that darling..."
"Everyone tells me... That your affection for me won't last, and you'll get bored of me."
He scoffed, "Who said such nonsense to you? You know that I'm not that kind of man."
"-Is it because of what they said that made you ask for that kind of wish?" He let go of your embrace, his eyes looking at you with such affection, gentleness, and care.
"Those people aren't just strangers, they've been around you for a while, That's why I..."
His hands made their way to your shoulders, his white locks covering his golden eyes.
"Will you feel better... If I gave you the lives of those people who sent such thoughts in your pretty little head?"
You held a look contorted with fear. "You mustn't do such a thing!"
"Shouldn't a husband fight for his wife's honor? I'll be willing to do anything, just to make you feel all better and free from such thoughts."
"So please tell me. What must I do to stop you from hiding and crying anymore..."
He kissed you passionately on the lips, on the cheeks, and on the forehead before bringing you to his embrace.
"Even if everyone is against you. I'll be here, I'll protect you, I'll love you. And I'll never get sick of you."
NOTE! — did you get it? I hope you get it let me retell. So basically some of Jing Yuans close attendants or whatever you call them (jus workers who worked for him for a long time that he basically considers them as friends) told you things like blah blah blah since you were an unknown existence to them not until be announced his marriage to you and he entered the room seeing you all sad and gloomy and all and then boom
OF BOOKS & BALCONIES
Summary: being cooped up inside due to extreme temperatures, you start to really appreciate your balcony. It also helps that Joel is your downstairs neighbour.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
Wordcount: somewhere around 3K
Warnings: 18+ stuff. Curse words, masturbation, grinding, fingering.
A/N: my first smut...
The sun seemed to be permanently plastered to the sky these days. No clouds, no rain, barely any wind.
It wasn't so much that you hated the sun, but with it came a scorching heat. For weeks on end the temperature had settled around a 100 degrees.
The QZ was unusually quiet. After multiple people had succumbed to the heat and drinking-water being a scarce source at the moment, they (being the military who ran this place) decided it was too hot to work. That didn't mean you could just hang out on the streets though. They ordered everybody inside and stay there untill some big shot decided otherwise. So here you were. Cooped up inside your home.
It was a tiny apartment. A separate bathroom, but the living room, kitchen (not that you needed a kitchen anyway) and your bedroom were all in the same space. The wooden floor had seen better days and the wallpaper was moldy, but you tried to keep the rest of it as clean and cosy as possible. Which of course was not an easy feat with this whole apocalypse thing going on.
And even though it looked nothing like the house you used to live in before everything went to shit, it felt like home to you. Your safe place. You felt lucky you did not need to share it with anyone. And what you especially loved about it, was the tiny balcony. Your love for it only recently developed (you never really used it before), because with the current temperatures it seemed like a godsend. Being able to open a door to the outside and let some of the heat out and a breeze in, was something that made you extremely grateful. No one dared to keep open their doors to the hallway. Especially the women living alone, for obvious reasons.
Dusk was finally settling in, the sun had disappeared behind the buildings. Voices drifted into your living room. You even heard some music playing. Venturing outside, you let out a deep sigh. It finally started to cool a bit. Deciding to eat your can of cold beans outside you sat on the floor with your back against the lukewarm brick of the building.
That's when you hear them. They were having an argument. Not for the first time either, but you could never really make out the words before. You could now, with both your balcony doors being open.
"Christ Tess! Just keep your mouth shut for once!"
The voice belonging to Joel, your downstairs neighbour. He was somewhere in his late forties or even fifties maybe? He had a permanent scowl plastered on his face and his mouth always set in a thin line. Not once had he said a word to you. Truth to be told, after he downright ignored you twice, (with you only saying 'goodmorning' the first time and 'hi' the second, not bothering to address him again after that) you were a little intimidated by him. He was tall and broad shouldered, with salt and pepper hair, brown eyes and a full mustache and beard (streaked with grey). Okay, so you may have stolen a glance or two his way. A woman had the right to look.
"Oh go fuck yourself, Joel!!"
That was Tess. The woman he lived with. You had no idea if they were a thing, but they looked out for each other. That much was clear. A loud bang (probably a door) followed and then silence filled the air. You took a bite of your beans. You would kill for some ice cream right now.
Joel's voice again, closer this time. He was standing on his balcony now, just below yours.
You heard him mumbling some more profanities and it sounded like he too sat down against the brick wall. You almost dared not to move, afraid he might hear you. Like you were spying on him or something. You chided yourself and took another bite of your beans. The spoon clanking against the can. Fuck it, so now he knew you were there. It was not like he was going to acknowledge your presence anyway.
After finishing your meal you got up to grab a book. Contemplating reading it on your bed or on the balcony, you chose the latter.
Watership Down by Richard Adams. It was one of the few belongings you'd manage to take with you while on the run. You read it hundreds of times. Books were a rarity these days. Most of them being ripped apart and used for fires.
You tried to read, but halfway through, the book brought back memories. It often did. It had been a birthday gift from your parents. You didn't exactly remember which birthday. You were still living with them when it all started. You'd been 19 years old.
You had made it out of the house, into the car. But some twenty minutes later your mom started to turn into one of those things and then it was just you and your dad. Eventually you'd found a small group of survivors with whom you had stayed a couple of years. But more and more people died either by infected or raiders. Your poor father never saw his death coming. You unfortunately did and it still haunted you to this day. You had survived on your own for a couple of years and ended up here. Suddenly feeling lonely and overwhelmed, you started to cry. A few sobs escaped your mouth and your breath came out in little puffs. Well, so much for reading.
You had no idea if Joel was still there. Had he heard your sobs? When you closed your balcony door for the night (safety reasons), you heard him stepping inside and closing his. Well, there was your answer.
When you woke up the next morning, the sun already hit your window. Meaning it was late morning. Not that it mattered much, you had no idea what to do these days anyway.
You got up and opened your balcony door. The smell of cigarette filled your nose. The sound of a page being turned. A hum. Joel.
Thinking about last night made you roll your eyes. Sniffling on the balcony right above that stoic man. You stepped outside and immediately spotted something out of the ordinary on your balcony floor. A book. Not your own book, but one you never saw before. You slowly picked it up. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brönte. You've heard of it, but never had the chance to read it. How on earth did it get here?
Someone flipped a page again, the sound reaching your ears.Joel. Joel who probably heard you read last night and crying afterwards. Did he put it here? You picked up the book and opened it, but there was no note.
You could not stop reading. The day had long gone and stars painted the sky. Finishing the story, you slowly closed the book. Incredible. But now came the difficult task of returning the book to it's rightful owner. You sure as hell weren't going to knock on his door. And where he could balance on his railing and place the book on your balcony, you could not reach his. Only if you would throw it and you would never. Opting to just leave the book where you'd found it this morning, you go to sleep.
Jane Eyre was gone the next morning, replaced by The adventures of Huckleberry Finn, no note. Then came Lord of the Flies, no note, and after that A Clockwork Orange....no note.
You held your latest balcony find in your hand. Brow raised. The title being "Smoky Darling", you looked at the rather interesting cover: a man wearing a red plaid with the buttons undone. Showing part of his tanned, muscular body. Somehow the plaid reminded you of Joel. Though his was green. Shaking that thought you opened the book. And there it was: a note.
- Sorry, out of other options.
The book had you blushing like a teenager. My goodness, did people actually read this kind of stuff? Well, obviously...you're being one of them.
"That's right. Work yourself on my hand. Fuck my fingers" Heat pooled low in your belly. "If you know what's good for you, you're gonna shut your mouth and take your punishment like a good girl" You felt yourself clench at the thought of someone calling you a good girl. "Behave this time, or I'll have to find another way to keep your mouth occupied". You rubbed your thighs together to create some much needed friction. You never really cared much for touching yourself, could never seem to get it just right. But now, you craved for it. Never have you imagined a book could turn you on like this. A book Joel gave you. Did he even read this before he gave it to you?
You grabbed a pencil and the note that came with the book. 'Got more?' you wrote before putting the note back in the book and going to bed. You had vivid dreams of a man wearing a plaid shirt that night. A green one.
The next book was called The Casanova. A guy in a suit on the cover and a short note inside that simply read: '-enjoy'
You thumbed through it, but opted to wait untill it was dark outside, knowing it was probably going to make you feel needy again. When you finally deemed it was time, you all but grabbed the book and sat on your balcony.
Cigarette smoke filled your senses. Was he there? You listened closely. Yes, he was definitely there.
"Joel?" you whispered.
No answer. You tried again: "Joel?"
He let out a "hm", acknowledging he'd heard you.
"Thank you," you whispered, "for the books."
No response, how surprising, really. You opened the book and began reading. "Baby I'm going to make you come untill you pass out" "Fuck, you want me to beg? I'll fucking beg!" You let out a breathy moan. Clasping your hands over your mouth, you listened to any signs Joel might have heard you.
"Keep reading," his voice was low and husky.
Okay, so he did hear you. Your breathing was so loud by now he could probably hear that too. Half an hour later you almost felt like you would spontaneously combust. Lust clouded your mind.
"I finished the book," you breathed.
You lost it then. Didn't know exactly wat it was you were asking for when you whispered his name again.
"Joel, please, I-"
Your hands started to wander over your thighs, up to your stomach and over your breasts. Your nipples hardened under your touch. With one hand you pinched one through your shirt, while the other wandered down your body again. You cupped yourself through your jeans. A moan escaped your lips. You needed more.
"Joel? Can you... talk to me?"
Apparently not because there was no answer. Growing frustrated with his silence you tried again.
"I- I need you to tell me what to do," your voice barely above a whisper. "Please".
Still no answer. Christ, was he really such an ass? You felt stupid, suddenly very conscious of what you were doing.
A knock on your door had you bolting upright. Smoothing down your clothes, you hesitated for a moment before walking inside and opening your door. Right in front of you stood the man in his green plaid. Joel. His eyes looked you up and down, dark, filled with lust. Your cheeks flushed. He was so much taller than you, you'd forgotten how much.
You stepped aside and he walked past you. Looking around your room.
Before you could say anything he beat you to it.
"Get on the couch."
Your feet start walking before your mind can actually comprehend his words. You sit.
He also sits, a little to your left. He leans back and spreads his legs.
You do, propping yourself up against the armrest so you can still see him. Your feet touch his thigh.
Okay, you could do this. He was finally using words and you wanted to listen, to obey. Your hands slide from your thighs to your breasts, back to your thighs, lower... touching your still clothed pussy.
He inhales sharply and moves his hand to touch his cock.
"Shorts off, keep the panties."
You strip them down your legs and look at his hand. He's pushing his cock to face upwards inside his jeans and then he starts to rub the length of it.
"Open," he commands.
You spread your legs as wide as possible..
"Fuck, so wet. All because of that little book I gave you?"
You blush and cover yourself.
"S'okay darlin'. Lemme help you."
He swats your hand away and touches you. Sliding his fingers over your clit and down to your dripping opening. Pushing a little of the sudden fabric inside of you.
You never felt anything like this before. Your cunt clenches around nothing. "Please," you mumble.
He looks you in the eye while pulling your panties aside. His fingers find you again. He pushes one in, then another, and slowly starts to push them in and out of you. His eyes travel down, and he licks his lips. You moan and his other hand clamps over your mouth.
"Ssssh, baby. Quiet."
He removes his fingers and offers you his hand. You're not sure what he wants, but you take it. He pulls you over his legs so you straddle him with your back towards him.
The sudden pressure and feeling of his clothed cock on your ass has you moaning and his arms settle on your hips, holding you in place. Your own hands gripping his knees.
"Move," he whispers.
You start grinding yourself on him. His mouth opens and a low groan escapes him. A gush of arousal leaks out of you and onto his jeans. One of his hands glides over your ass, over the inside of your thigh and then his fingers are inside you again. You start riding them. His other hand grabs your throat and he pulls you flush against him. His mouth near your ear.
"What do you need, tell me."
"T- talk to me."
"Doing so good. You make me so fuckin' hard."
You shudder. His fingers leave you and his indexfinger starts drawing circles on your clit. Fast, slow, fast, slow.
"I want you to scream my name when I make you come, you hear me?"
He pushes his fingers back inside you and fucks you with them in an almost brutal pace. You're almost there. Your stomach tightens and your legs start to tremble. He crooks his fingers inside of you, the pleasure overwhelming. The hand on your throat tightens as he moans into your ear. "Come for me," and you do. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, liquid gushes out, stars burst behind your eyes, while this all-consuming feeling spreads from your fingers to your toes. Never before has it felt so good. Tears stream down your face, while you chant his name over and over again.
He slowly removes his fingers. They're glistening. He pushes you off of him and you fall onto the couch. You can barely focus. He opens his jeans and pulls himself out, mixing your juices with his precum and smears them over his cock. It only takes him a few strokes before he comes. He groans and his head smacks against the back of your couch. His cum coats his green plaid shirt.
Both breathing hard, you look at each other. He tugs himself back inside his jeans and uses your panties to clean the cum off his shirt. When he's done, he hands them to you with a devilish smile. He stands, walks towards your balcony and comes back with The Casanova in one of his hands.
"Good book?" he asks.
"Very," you reply.
He leaves then without another word, but the next morning there's a new book on your balcony. More English literature...
♡ info ♡ k-pop masterlist ♡ next chapter ♡
summary: Hybrids were accepted in society to a certain degree. To some, they are for entertainment. Used as sex and money tools. To lock up and abuse whenever and however they please. Something to have control over. To others, they are companions. Just like regular animals are used for therapy or simply companionship, hybrids are too.
To the rest, they are just like everyone else. Someone with their own life who deserves the same freedoms as your everyday John or Jane Doe. Wren is one of these people. She hates the idea of owning a hybrid. She has nothing against those who own them for medical or companionship reasons. Just the rest.
But, when a ragtag pack of seven mismatched hybrids somehow ends up in the woods behind her home, she takes them in and does the one thing she never thought she would do. Own them. But, she also does something she didn't even think was possible. She fell in love with each and every one of them.
pairing(s): ot7 x ot7, ot7 x oc
Most hybrids come from Asian countries because of the ethereal beauty they possess. For most, that is the only asset that keeps them alive. The way most of these hybrids end up in other countries is if they are sold to someone and brought there. Now, the entire world has hybrids mixed into its population.
Being a writer, I always get asked why I haven't written anything about hybrids. For a fantasy writer, it's like the jackpot of writing material considering they actually exist and all the information I would need is right at my fingertips if I want it to be.
It's just something that never sat right with me. I don't know everything and the only way to know everything is to speak to one myself. I don't own a hybrid. I won't own a hybrid. I have nothing against people who own them as long as they are treating them with care. But, I just don't feel comfortable interrogating someone for the purpose of a story.
Hybrids have very unique, very personal aspects to their lives that other people don't have. It would be like asking the deepest most personal questions about someone's life. It's unfathomably uncomfortable.
Luckily, I can escape the demands for hybrid content when I'm teaching. Teaching Greek mythology to college students has its perks in that regard. Which, leads me to where I am now, wrapping up my lecture for the day.
"Alright everyone, don't forget your homework for the weekend." Some students groan at the back of the room. I stand from behind my desk, walking around to the front where I lean against it with my hip. "Yes, yes, I know. Just be thankful you get a whole weekend for it, your other professors probably wouldn't be so nice. Now, any questions?"
Two hands raise in the air and I call on the first one to come up. "How many sources did we need to cite again?"
"At least three," I say. "You can use more if you'd like, I have no issue with that. However, I hope I don't need to remind you which types of websites aren't credible sources?"
Everyone shakes their heads and I nod, calling on the next person. "Will there be any time to come in to ask questions about our papers before Monday?"
"To come in, no. Unfortunately not. However, if you'd like you can email me with any questions you have or just send me a draft and I can read it for you and give you feedback that way. I will try to get back to you asap if I can. Just please do not email me Monday morning or late Sunday night as I will be asleep and it will be too late for you."
When I finish speaking everyone shuffles in their seats. "Any more questions?" When nobody else speaks up, I lean upright from my position in front of my desk. "If that's all then you are all free to go. Have a good weekend." I receive goodbyes from almost every student as they leave. Once the last one does, I shuffle all of my belongings together and leave the room, locking the door.
On my way home, it starts to rain. It's been in the forecast all week but it was only supposed to be a slight drizzle. This, however, is a torrential downpour. Pulling into my driveway and parking, I brace myself to make a run for it. There's no way I won't get drenched.
Walking inside, I toe off my shoes and drop my things by the door before going upstairs to change into warm and comfy clothes for the evening. Walking into the kitchen for food, I pass the large, sliding glass doors that lead to my backyard and the woods behind my house.
Cereal for dinner sounds good. With a bowl of dry cereal in one hand and a glass of milk in the other, I make my way to the living room. On the way, I pass by the glass door again. Lighting strikes, lighting up the yard and the woods in the distance. In the treeline, I almost swear I can see an animal. It's not super big, but it's not small either. Surprisingly, even with the woods bordering my house, not many animals make their way out. so, seeing one now is slightly odd.
I set my food down on the coffee table and move back to the kitchen, making a plate of food for...whatever is out there. If it's in the woods in a storm like this, it must be hungry. Sliding open the glass door, I set the plate down on the porch under the awning and move back inside where I sit on the couch with my own food and the tv playing in front of me.
I'm around two episodes into the show I was watching when I hear footsteps on the back porch. They're small but loud enough for me to hear through the rain which has settled down into a soft drizzle. Standing, I make my way to the door, trying to keep my steps light and my posture open so whatever is out there doesn't feel threatened by me.
When I'm close enough to see what it is, I find a German Shepherd right before it shifts and a man is left in its place. My hand reaches out for the door handle when he sees me. His eyes widen and he scrambles to pocket all of the food and make a run for the woods.
I quickly open the door trying to stop him. "Wait, please! You don't have to go." He freezes in his steps, halfway off the porch. "I- I can give you more food if that isn't enough. And some water too if you want?" He's thin and pale and shaking like a leaf where he stands. "Please?" My voice is soft, I'm afraid if I speak too loud he'll run away. "I just want to help."
It feels like we stare at each other for hours before he nods his head, barely enough for me to see but it's still a nod. "Okay, okay that's good," I say and lead him inside. "Let me get you a towel so you can dry off, you must be cold." I don't wait for him to respond before I rush off to get it. When I come back, he's in the same spot I left him.
"Here," I hand him the towel and watch as he wraps it around himself. Slowly, his shivering starts to calm down. "Do you have any preferences?"
He looks at me strangely, head tilting to the side. The ears on the top of his head flop to the side softly, the fur wet. "To eat? Is there anything in particular you want? Anything I should avoid?" He seems to take a minute to process what I asked him before he slowly shakes his head. "Okay. You can um...you can come wait in the kitchen while I get you something if you want."
He timidly walks in behind me and watches everything I do. I decided on soup. Hopefully, the warmth from the food would make him feel better. "Is it just you?" I ask timidly.
"No," he says softly after some hesitation.
"Are- are they close? Whoever you're with?"
I pause what I'm doing. Maybe I should make more soup..."How many of you are there?" How much food am I going to need to make?
He shifts uncomfortably. "Seven. Including me."
"Do they want to come in? You can invite them if you want." I avoid looking at him, continuing to make more food.
"What?" He sounds surprised and wary.
"Only if you want. I mean," I stop and chuckle slightly, "seven versus one? If I were to try anything, which I won't, I think you all have the advantage. Don't you think?"
He waited for a few minutes, probably trying to see if I was pulling his leg. "Okay." He slowly makes his way to the sliding door, I can feel his eyes on me, keeping me in his sight. Leaving the door open, he shifts back into a German Shepherd and lets out a loud howl towards the forest. Anything else beyond that, I don't hear because of the volume of the storm raging outside. It was around 15 minutes before he came back inside, several pairs of footsteps shuffling in behind him.
I freeze, gently putting down what was in my hands before slowly turning to face the group of hybrids in my home.
Hi!! Thanks sm for your response! I'm glad you take requests since I'm such a fan of your work!
I was thinking about a scenario wherein Gojo Satoru always had the impression that reader hated his guts because they always bicker even at the pettiest of things. But one day, Satoru overhears reader gushing about having a crush on him (reader could be talking to Geto/Shoko/both etc) and they keep rambling about how much they like him and all. Meanwhile, Satoru's just 🧍♂️leaning by the doorframe with the biggest smug grin on his face (he actually secretly likes reader back). How it ends is entirely up to you if you'd take this request hehe
Just basically lots of fluff and the occasional comedy lol thanks so much for listening to my rambling (I just love him sm)
hi, thank you for the praise robynn! ’m so glad to know my works interest you, luv u & here's your req hc <3
Deer caught in Headlights : Gojo
Pairing : frenemy!gojo x highschool!y/n
A/N : here's another set of hcs about gojo bullying you like the jerk he is. ps. i tried to be serious
WARNINGS : gojo is a tease, but so are you
“i don't like him like that. absolutely fucking not, what the hell?” you whisper, mouth stuffed with icecream in the comfy bed of Shoko's room as Geto copied her bored expression—sitting & listening to your endless rambles on why you're not attracted to Satoru like that
seriously, they've lost the count of reasons why you gradually became a Satoru simp but oh have you
“goddammit! i hate him, i hate him and his dumb voice and his stupid muscles and his awfully attractive face! it's all on my desserts he ate to look li-... Geto, are you sleeping?”
you stop your very important discourse to give the best friend of your enemy & your thought dump a pointed look
“no, please keep talking. i only yawn when i'm super fascinated”
says him, that talk-back king of a bitch you're sure he got that from is best friend
he lies down the bed with a soft huff and if he notices Satoru’s tall presence by the door, he does nothing—nothing but a hint of evil amusement making his lips curve into a subtle smile to the thought of your pathetically obvious crush being exposed
he does nothing to stop you who's back faced the door, nothing when his best friend approached slowly with his hands inside his sweatpants as your embarrassing tirade continued
“-and Shoko, trust me. I'd have let him known about his ridiculous eyes that i dreamt last night if he wasn't such a jerk like h-”
“...what about my eyes?”
you flinch... no, no no no, fuck. even Shoko burst out at your comical whip of the head
with a stifling laugh that she tried to fight so hard, Shoko gets out along with Geto who may have wanted to stay just to watch the drama commence
“um-” you almost landed face first trying to drag your panicked little self out of bed as the slanting white brows raised at you amusingly
“mhm, and you hate these stupid muscles” “no! i mean- yes, n-”
“y/n, i expected more”
god fucking damn, what was his cursed technique? to flatter people? you pulled a passive-aggressive face in defence of your shattering pride, and begin “h-how long have you been standing there?”
Gojo answered your question with the teasing smile on his face, and he chuckled before asking with a tilt of his head to watch your reaction “correct me if i've been reading this all wrong but.... you like me”
your figure shrinks at the claim and that definitely satisfied Gojo, his breathy hum confirming it further
“mm?” he hums slowly, as if coaxing a child to admit their wrong doings “cat got your tongue y/n?” just say it, say it, say it. you breath in.
“i like you” “say that again” “...i like you”
you know he would not let you live that down even if you were to end up having kids—but fuck that, you thought, the cat's out of the bag anyway.
“dunno i had such a weird taste in men but i just really enjoy spending my time with you and you've really become someone special to me and-”
“don't even tell me, i already know. i just needed to get that out.” he knows he shouldn't be mean, not when he feels the same about you, but can he help his obsession with your flustered red mess of a face?
you know he's trying too hard to tease you. cruel fucking bastard. “wait until i kill you”
“yeah?~ what're you trying here? to make this seem like a lovers' quarrel?” he chuckles, prolly wants to redden your puffy cheeks a little more before giving in.
“i'll punch that smirk off your face, Satoru!” “try me, i dont need to try getting you on your knees before me”
“oh, do you think of that image a lot?” you say lifting an eyebrow, perfect chance to make him taste his own medicine.
oh. Gojo blushed.
“w-well, what i think is... maybe our feelings are mutual” says after clearing his throat as he slowly regains his composure. “i have this weird feeling when i'm with you, can't explain it, but it's a good feeling...”
your usual instinct of fighting began to fade at his words as both of you stood in middle of the room in an awkward state, trying to fight the urge to smile
“hah, can't believe i never noticed it before, but you're kinda hot when you're angry. maybe that's why i loved pissing you off”
yes, that's when Gojo managed to break your last straw and make you blush at the same time “well then, take this!” his infinity stopped your little punch
“meanie!” he chuckles again, holding your fist softly
“okay little baby, no sulking. if a punch makes you feel better you can punch me. lightly.” he said in his silvery voice as he turned his infinity off, kissing you nice and soft...
(you ignored his last word)
A/N : i hope people this is one ^-^ i personally enjoyed this heheskks likes & reblogs are appreciated! ♡
Tags : @robynnnhooddd @nanamikentoseyebags @luckimoon @dazailover1900 @jspenft @tamakin7 @daquila @jkhlhjkjkjhkl @horrendous-introvert