#also for the record i don’t think any of them are stupid. this just feels like something Johnny would do

[crystalbeastsquidney]

Had a friend recently tell me a funny idea for a couples’ shirt combo

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒

summary: having your period is already stressful enough and being in a magical all-boys school doesn't make it any better; luckily, your boyfriend is here to help

pairings: leona :: jade :: jamil x gn!reader

warnings: period comfort; mentions of periods and different symptoms (but gn pronouns), mentions of reader having hair in jade's part

twisted wonderland masterlist || similar writing: bloody hell [obey me]

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑

It was decidedly too early for this.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you walked through the hallways, head down to keep from making eye contact with the beastmen staring at you as you passed them. After tossing and turning all night, kept from finding sleep by painful cramps, being ogled at by students at an all boys school that could smell the blood on you was the last thing you needed.

And it wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to avoid this. When you had realised the predicament you would inevitably find yourself in, you had downright begged Crowley to let you stay at Ramshackle. After all, a certain Ignihyde dorm leader also never attended class in person. But, really, you should have known better. As if the headmage would let his number one therapist stay home for a few days each month or as he put it, he 'couldn’t rob a precious student like yourself of the opportunity to learn'.

At least Sam was an actual help and had magically procured just the stuff you needed.

So, with heavy eyes and burning cheeks you speed walked towards your first class of the day, dodging students at the last second on more than one occasion until you eventually ran straight into a sturdy chest. Looking up briefly to apologise, you blinked at the familiar emerald eyes sizing you up.

“Leona! What are you doing here?” Most people’s first reaction to seeing their boyfriend would probably not be bewilderment, but running into your boyfriend inside the school during class hours was as likely as Ace making it through a week without being collared by his housewarden.

“That’s funny, ‘cause I was about to ask you the same thing,” the lion drawled, ears flicking to help convey the incredulousness painted on his face. “So, what do you think you’re doing?”

As imposing as he was with his athletic build and the unimpressed expression, causing the students around you to serve around the two of you, you weren’t affected at all, used to his grumpy exterior.

“Uhm, going to class?” You deadpanned, putting your hand on your hip to mirror his stance. “Unlike someone else I know.”

“Yeah, you’re not doing that,” Leona stated matter of factly.

“Excuse you?” When he tried pulling you along by your arm, away from the direction of your classroom, you dug your heels into the ground. “I hate to sound like a broken record but what are you doing, Leona?”

“Making you get some rest, obviously.” You couldn’t see it from where you stood but you could practically hear the way he rolled his eyes. 

“Listen I can’t just skip class, I talked to the headmage–”

“Crowley can solve his own problems for a day,” his voice rumbled low in his throat, almost sounding like a growl, “you know, like an actual adult. And don’t try to play dumb with me herbivore, it’s not a good look on you. I know you sleep like shit when you get your period and I also know that the people around you don’t take your health into account when they get up to some stupid idea.”

“Yeah but-”

You saw the annoyed flick of his tail before he turned around and braced his hands on your shoulders without ever applying any pressure. By now the last bell had rang and the corridor was deserted, leaving you to be the only people standing in the early morning light.

“Don’t give me this self-sacrificial nonsense,” Leona said, words harsh but you knew him well enough to read the protective feeling behind them. “We both know you need to rest. What good would it really do you to go to class in this state?”

As if to agree with him, a nasty cramp pulled at your lower stomach and the ill suppressed grimace on your face must have been all too apparent to your boyfriend. Giving your arm another light tug, Leona coaxed you towards the Hall of Mirrors again with a tempting ‘C’mon’ and this time you let him pull you along willingly, even handing him your backpack when he reached out for it.

Sometimes, it was hard to forget the kind of culture Leona grew up in, one where women held a high position of power in general, so really you shouldn’t be surprised by how… normal he was about all of this. Part of that was probably also because it was a very gentlemanly excuse to skip class in favour of a nap, if you were honest.

“If you’re that worried about missing class, Jack can give you his notes.” His offhand comment made you snort. Of course, he would offer someone else’s service to you before anything else.

“Or my third-year boyfriend could tutor me,” you teased, a playful lilt swinging in your voice.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” the lion shrugged. “Weren’t you just on my case about my attendance record?”

“Because the first-year curriculum is just too hard for someone who can turn an entire stadium into dust,” you jabbed.

“You’re yapping a lot for someone who’s this tired,” Leona grumbled, a large palm pushing your head down, careful not to hurt you. With a giggle you decided to drop the topic. 

Crossing the Hall of Mirrors and stepping through the Savanclaw portal, you were greeted by the  warm breeze of dry air typical for the dorm’s daytime. After the trek through the savanna past the spring in the common room and across the wooden bridges, you reached Leona’s room and you could already feel the tension seep from your body as you stepped into its comfortable familiarity. 

When you unbuttoned your uniform’s blazer, you caught a glimpse of your stomach through your shirt, slightly extended further than usual due to the bloating. And rationally you knew it was a normal bodily reaction to your period but paired with the new bumps on your face and general exhaustion, logic wasn’t quite enough to calm your mind.

The clothes being plopped down on your head, however, certainly did rip you from your thoughts. Lifting the ends of the black material covering your eyes you threw your boyfriend a questioning glare.

“I can tell you’re thinking something stupid,” Leona offered as an explanation. “Just get changed and come to bed.”

Huffing under your breath, you stepped into his ensuite bathroom to do as he said, pulling on your boyfriend’s shirt and sweatpants. While you didn’t feel like agreeing with him quite yet, you had to admit, royal loungewear was a league of its own in comfort. And probably in price.

When you emerged, Leona had just tossed his phone on the nightstand before devoting all his attention to you. The ears on his head flicked as his gaze wandered from your head to toe and back up, a grin tugging at his lips and an appreciative glint in his green eyes. 

Then, the second you came within reach, he’d already wrapped you in his strong arms and pulled you into bed with him, not without a surprised squeal from you. You could feel his deep chuckle as much as you heard it with your head resting on his chest and resigned yourself to merely sighing fondly. 

With two firm hands stroking up and down the length of your back purposefully, their warmth spreading through your body, and his chest rising rhythmically underneath you, you finally allowed yourself to relax as you traced random patterns onto his biceps and pectorals and followed the movement with heavy-lidded eyes.

“You weren’t seriously looking down on yourself earlier, were you?” Leona mumbled, a serious care in his words he didn’t offer many people. 

“Well, you can’t really help it when your body goes through this many changes, can you?” you drowsily replied, your eyes already falling closed with no conscious work of your own. “Besides, periods are not the time you feel generally great about yourself.”

“No matter how you might see yourself, I don’t want you to doubt for even a second that I like you the way you are.” At his heartfelt confession, you peeked one eye open to study his expression.

“You can be quite the romantic if you want to huh?” You meekly chuckled, not able to help yourself.

“Go to sleep, herbivore, you’re talking crazy.” Even as he put one of his hands on the back of your head to keep you cradled against him, you didn’t miss how his ears flicked or the fondness with which he looked down on you.

“Alright, alright. I appreciate it though, really.” With a big yawn you shifted to get comfortable, your cramps far from your mind as you sunk into your boyfriend’s natural warmth. “Love you.”

By the time you’d wake up, Ruggie would have dropped off lunch along with some other essential items. But for now, Leona was content to watch as your breath evened out and your chest rose and fell in the rhythm of his own, careful not to disturb you when he draped a soft blanket over you. With the rising sun peeking through the arches of his room, he truthfully answered you in a whisper. 

“Love you, too.”

𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐂𝐇

Once Jade had taken an interest in you, he would seemingly appear out of thin air in your general vicinity a lot more often than it was usual to run into a fellow student. On your way to the school store, in line at the cafeteria or when you were carrying supplies for Professor Crewel, the moray would coincidentally round a corner to lend a hand.

So it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise that, as his courting became more serious and you had become aware of what was going on, even reciprocating the sentiment, you found the sophomore waiting for you before your classes started. Your time table was well-memorised so he could greet you with a serene smile each day and walk you to your first class of the morning.

Now, as a moray eel with naturally sharp senses, it was somewhat inevitable he’d pick up on the scent of blood once your period rolled around. In contrast to beastmen who were mostly mammals in their anatomy, however, the Octatrio did not grow up on land and periods weren’t exactly a thing for merfolk. Moreover, seeing as they had only been on land for roughly two years and were attending an all-boys school, it was not a phenomenon they were likely to run into.

So, having his dear pearl approach one morning, the smell of iron heavy in the air, paired with their already soured mood and his lack of knowledge on the societal stigma around the topic, misunderstandings were bound to happen.

“I really don’t think it wise to attend class in your state,” the moray had stated after greeting you, an eyebrow raised at your stubbornness to continue with your day even at what, in his mind, must have been a grave injury. 

“I’m fine, Jade, I just want to get this day over with,” you had groaned, trying to push past the tall student and drop the topic, embarrassed enough that a sizable chunk of the student body would be aware of your predicament in the first place.

But who would he be to let a person he actually cared about go on their way with a bleeding wound? 

“Prefect, I must insist you seek medical aid immediately.” You remembered the uncharacteristically genuine furrow of his brows as he had blocked your path. “Please, go to the school nurse or at least let me tend to your needs. I’m certain I could be of help if you share your problem with me.”

“If you want to hear me say it so desperately,” you had huffed, “I’m on my period. Happy now?”

“Your period?” Jade had echoed with wide eyes, unknowingly speeding up the burning of your shortened fuse with his lack of knowledge. “Yes, I’m aware we are to attend class but I fail to see–”

“Very funny,” you had deadpanned, pushing past him with a cold shoulder and leaving the moray to his own confusion. “Now if you excuse me, I have better things to do than stand here and humour your feigned ignorance today.”

Yes it wasn’t your proudest moment, you’d admit that. And when Jade approached you later that day with a genuine apology, explaining how he had researched the topic and was deeply ashamed of his uninformed remarks, you felt like the worst person on the planet and apologised more than he had. So in the end, you came to an apology truce, where you noted he shouldn’t have prodded further when you didn’t want to talk about it and you shouldn’t have exploded on him like you did.

Since the incident, however, Jade had been a dream to have around. Not to fall short again, he had done a fair amount of research, both on the biological aspect of what was happening to your body but also on the lived experience and its numerous complications. Then, doing what he did best, he observed your reactions, moods and symptoms to better cater to you specifically.

Every month he put both his cooking and alchemy skills to good use, whipping up whatever meal you desired and brewing a painkilling potion with just the right dosage for your current situation. Being Jade Leech, he could also assert his presence in any given situation with as little as a simple glare if you did not want to be bothered.

Your favourite part of the comfortable rhythm you two had fallen in, however, were the evenings where Grim was otherwise engaged and you had Ramshackle to yourselves. On those nights, soft music and fond laughter would mix with hushed whispers spilling from under your bathroom door.

A few months prior, Azul and Jade had sat down for a ‘pleasant chat’ with the Headmaster concerning the state of Ramshackle dorm and soon thereafter, funding had been provided to remodel vital parts of the dorm. No more caved-in roofs or stairs giving away under people’s shoes. Together with the money from the VDC, the old house had finally started feeling like an actual home; one you felt welcome and comfortable in.

It also meant you finally trusted your new bathtub enough to sit in it and actually also relax without any anxieties of whatever you could possibly contract from the exposure. 

With his natural fondness of water, it hadn’t taken long for Jade to propose the idea of shared baths and you hadn’t regretted your decision to agree since. It wasn’t like he gave you any reason to either; it was the opposite, really. It didn’t take the moray long at all to figure out the perfect temperature or what fragrance you preferred, if any. 

He also never made you feel inadequate or like you had to be ashamed of yourself, even when your body went through change throughout your cycle. Your skin tingled from his featherlight touches where his fingers traced your curves, never hiding the fact that he appreciated what he saw but always pairing it with a reverence that made you feel loved and desired, rather than ogled at. So when you sank into the water after him, cosying into his space to lean back against his chest, it was like sinking into a warm, secure embrace.

The water helped soothe your aches and washed away the tension which had built over the day and the easily flowing conversation with Jade let you focus on anything other than the thoughts in your mind, listening to his rich voice rather than the doubts trying to crawl to the surface.

When his hands massaged the shampoo into your hair, you always teetered on the edge of falling asleep right then and there. The atmosphere paired with his skilled fingers applying just the right amount of pressure as his nails gently scraped over your scalp banished any headaches you could have had and had you practically melting against him, a sight that tugged on his heartstrings more than it should have. But to see you put so much trust in him, someone who wasn’t exactly known for his benevolence, it stirred something fond in his heart and it made him want to work harder so you would keep showing him this blissful expression.

After scrubbing your bodies down, paying special attention to any sore spots, he helped you out of the tub, never failing to comment on how wrinkly your hands had gotten in comparison to his, which didn’t seem to be affected by the water exposure at all. Wrapping you up in a fluffy black towel he claimed was from Octavinelle -though you were fairly certain you’d only ever seen pale lilac ones there- he padded you dry and helped you into your clothes, mindful of the routines and products you had shown him previously. 

Needless to say, you felt like a new person each time without fail as you lay snuggled up with your boyfriend in bed later on, listening to his breathing and the steady beating of his heart. 

“Thank you so much for always doing this much for me, Jade,” you said, earnest gratitude and unspoken adoration lining your voice. “I’m really lucky to be with you, huh?”

“On the contrary, I am the one luck seems to favour seeing how you chose to be with me,” he chuckled and you didn’t miss how his strong arms pulled you closer against him even if it wasn’t physically possible. He’d be damned if he didn’t try. “And you needn’t feel conflicted about receiving my affection. Just know I enjoy doing these things for you and with you, pearl.” 

“I stand by my earlier statement,” you smiled, making him laugh along with you. Looking into his heterochromic eyes, you traced the contours of his face with the same delicacy he showed you earlier. “Is it selfish to say that I feel happy about having this side of you all to myself?”

“Not at all. It is reserved for you only, dearest.” His gaze was heavy on yours as he loosely curled his fingers around your wrist and pressed a searing kiss against your palm. “After all, I do not intend to share this side of you with anyone else either.”

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋 𝐕𝐈𝐏𝐄𝐑

There have certainly been times where Jamil lamented having to basically babysit his dorm leader. Well, pretty much all the time. But being unable to stay by your side while you were hurting was generally one of the most annoying parts of his duties to him, especially with the daily workload of being a student on top of it all. 

Jamil being Jamil, however, he soon worked out a schedule consistent enough to let him visit you somewhat frequently. 

You were lying on one of Ramshackle’s rickety couches, nursing your lower stomach with a -at this point already lukewarm- water bottle, when a familiar knocking pattern brought a smile to your face.

“Come in! It’s open,” you shouted across the hall, adding your sarcastic comment under your breath in order not to worry your boyfriend more than he already was. “Not like the lock’s ever doing its job in this place.”

“Hm? Did you say something?” Jamil made his way straight over to where you were sitting, his footsteps quieting down as he reached the carpeted floor.

“No,” you shook your head, smiling up at him as he leant over the back of the couch. Ignoring his raised eyebrow, you reached up, so you could cradle his cheek as you sat up to meet him for a sweet kiss. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Seemingly appeased, your boyfriend mirrored your fond expression, tracing your face with his grey gaze while his hands moved to your shoulders, deft fingers working out any tension you might be having. “How are you feeling?”

“A lot better now that you’re here,” you laughed, though it wasn’t merely a sappy joke, as indicated by Jamil’s scoff behind you. “I mean it though. I’ve been feeling a lot better since I’ve been receiving your royal treatment.”

“It’s nothing that fancy,” Jamil assured, his eyes softening at the way you melted into his touch. “I’m just trying to take care of you.”

“I know you don’t think much of it but I really appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to look after me when I’m not even facing anything out of the ordinary,” you sighed, rehashing points you had raised in vain before.

“Oh hush,” your boyfriend playfully shushed you the way he had also done many times already when the topic came up. “Compared to what I usually deal with, this is like taking a vacation, especially since I get to spend time with you. Now speaking of my normal chores, I brought some leftover food.”

“Have I told you that I love you?” You swooned, causing both of you to laugh as Jamil headed over to your kitchen, one he was already familiar with. Not only because he often came over for some much needed peace and quiet but because Kalim was literally the reason you had it in the first place. A relationship-warming-gift of sorts for a relationship that wasn’t even his.

Besides, ever since courting and dating you, Jamil’s measuring skills when it came to meal prep seemed to have worsened because -coincidentally- he’d ended up with too much food and subsequent leftovers so often, you wondered why you even stocked your own fridge anymore.

What you had also noticed though was that, whenever you were on your period -something he seemed to track himself-, the food he brought over was a lot less spicy than usual and rather light. Something someone prone to a sensitive stomach, nausea, reduced appetite or a disturbed metabolism could still comfortably eat. 

The phenomenon of suddenly appearing sticky notes had also made itself known, labelling new containers in your fridge, medication on the counter or your coffee machine with reminders like ‘Remember caffeine makes your cramps worse’ written on it in neat handwriting. 

One or the other bar of dark chocolate and some of your favourite snacks had mysteriously found their way into your bags or onto a bowl in your kitchen as well though, making you smile at Jamil’s thoughtfulness when you caught a peek of them. 

During the day, whenever his schedule allowed it, he’d also drop by to check in on you between classes or during lunch, something Kalim wholeheartedly supported. Normally, Jamil refused all of Kalim’s offers to take a break from his duty but when you were feeling under the weather, he took the white-haired student up on it when no imminent disaster was on the horizon waiting to happen.

When your plate was empty and made its trip to the sink, Jamil refilled your hot water bottle but unlike you earlier, he waved his magic pen over it, which you had realised significantly expanded the time in which the water actually stayed hot.

“Thank you,” you said for possibly the millionth time as you took the bottle from him, then gave him a mischievous grin. “You know what would make me feel soo much better though?”

At the tilt of his head, you scooted over to make space between you and the back of the couch. Getting the hint, Jamil settled in behind you and you got comfy again with your back to his chest. This too had become somewhat of a ritual of yours, one that wasn’t limited to while you were suffering from cramps. 

After all the chore-y part of the late afternoon was taken care of, you liked to spend the evening snuggled up on your couch with the TV playing some show you liked to watch together, read: a show which you started and dragged Jamil into. Well, every now and then your boyfriend also made sure you didn’t fall behind on your studies, though he was more lenient when you were on your period.

“This is nice,” you mumbled, your eyelids heavy now that you had eaten and were surrounded by warmth and your loving boyfriend, whose hands stroked along your sides in a soothing, continuous motion, his chest vibrating underneath you with his affirming hum. 

“I could stay like that forever,” he agreed.

“Well I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t.” The smile in his voice was auditory even if you couldn’t see his gorgeous face. You could, however, feel his soft lips on the crown of your head and his breath fanning over it and you reached to intertwine one of your hands with his before a yawn you couldn’t suppress any longer filled the air. “You should get some rest, I’m sure you’re tired.”

“But I wanna stay with you longer,” you protested, sleep clouding your tone. 

“Don’t worry, I will be here when you wake up,” Jamil promised. And with that you drifted off, the warmth from around you settling cosily around your heart. A heart that wasn’t really yours alone anymore.

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twisted wonderland: @savanaclaw1996 @honehbee42

[wordsbyrian]

Would you pls do a Mary earps imagine with them filming TikTok’s together and being otp x

A/n: Not exactly what you asked for but close enough i think.

TikTok is the bane of your very existence.

It’s the bane of your professional life as a chef because everytime you turn around one of your crew is using prep time to make a concoction and upload it to that godforsaken app.

And in your personal life?

Well, in your personal life, it feels like every time you blink you're being sucked into filming one of those stupid videos with your girlfriend.

The first time it happened, you were barely even sure what was going on.

The two of you had been getting ready to go on a date to a relatively nice restaurant, when she pulled up in front of her phone’s camera so she could show off what you were wearing.

That had been the beginning of the madness (as well as a very hard launch of your relationship to the public).

It didn’t really matter what you were doing, if Mary had decided that a video needed to be filmed, it’d be filmed.

A literal walk in the park. TikTok.

You driving. TikTok.

You tearing a member of the kitchen staff a new one. TikTok. (Although she’d been asked not so politely by the head chef to never do that again).

You cooking in your shared flat. TikTok.

Hell, she even made a TikTok of you sharpening your knives, a task you find completely mind numbing.

And if having your every move recorded wasn’t bad enough, she also had you joining her in filming one of the more popular trends. You mouthing along to the silly sounds that are currently popular on the app. Or worse, dancing, you hate the dancing.

Asking how often you think about the Roman Empire (only as often as you need to).

Throwing herself fully clothed into the shower  and singing Taylor Swift while you were trying to brush your teeth.

Making you record a two second clip of everytime you changed clothes while on vacation.

The list is neverending.

Which is why you should be more alarmed when you see her walking into the kitchen  with her phone out but you’re too focused on chopping the vegetables you’ll be using in your meal prep.

 “Baby,” she says.

“Hmm?”

“Can we record a TikTok?”

“Can I keep doing what I’m doing,” you ask in return, still not looking up from the cutting board.

“You don’t need to do anything but stand there and look pretty,” Mary says as she sets her phone up next to you. “And answer questions,” she adds as an afterthought.

You roll your eyes but don’t make any additional comments as you see her hit record.

“So a ton of you have been asking in the comments how my wife manages to be a professional chef when she has so many food allergies,” Mary says, looking directly at the camera. “And I figured it was better if I just let her explain it. Babe?”

Admittedly, you hadn’t really been listening to every word that she had been saying, only really listening to every word that she had been saying, only really catching the words ‘allergies’ and ‘professional chef’, which is a topic you get asked about a lot. So you just answer without really thinking.

“My main allergies are seafood, peanuts and treenuts. And since I’m one of 2 or 3 sous on any given night, I just,” you pause, “wait, what did you just call me?”

You can feel cheeks heating up as your brain finally processes what just happened.

“What? Babe?”

Mary’s playing dumb on purpose. She knows it. You know it. And you both know that the other one knows.

“Not that, the other thing.”

“What my wife,” she asks.

A cheeky grin breaks out on Mary’s face as she watches even more color rush to your face.

For you, when she repeats it, you suddenly feel like you can barely breathe and you know that your next words come out a little choked (much to Mary’s amusement.)

“Yup, that.”

As calmly as you can manage, you put your knife down and take off your apron before walking out of the kitchen.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I have to find my wallet and keys,” you shoot back.

“Why?”

“I gotta go buy a ring before you change your mind!”

The sound of her laughter is the only thing you hear as you close the door behind you.

The video is up on that cursed app by the end of the week.

A photo of the ring on Mary’s finger goes up just a few hours before.

[archiveluna]

being in a weird situationship with farleigh... <3 inspired by the song boyfriend by ariana grande ft. social house

WARNINGS ✧ none i think? ooc farleigh maybe, situationship? my bad writing… it’s been 7 years. written on my iphone at 1am while sleep deprived </3 sorry in advance! i also suck at writing endings ◡̈

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ︶︶︶⠀⠀୨୧⠀⠀︶︶︶

‘you ain’t my boyfriend and i ain’t your girlfriend but you don’t want me to see nobody else and i don’t want you to see nobody’

you could feel him glaring at you from all the way across the room but made no move to look his way. if he could go around hooking up with random people, then you had the right to do as you please also.

wether he’d like to admit it or not, farleigh was a jealous man, especially when it came to you and there was only so much he could take before storming your way, his long legs reaching you in record time and dragging you away from the confused boy who you’d been previously talking to.

‘even though you ain’t mine, i promise the way we fight make me feel like we just in love’

“what do you think you’re doing?”

you couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped your mouth. was he being serious? the only thing holding you back from causing a scene being the people around you guys and the not so subtle eyes of his cousin and friends watching everything unfold. god.. you knew coming to this party was a bad idea. “not sure what you mean.” you shrugged.

he nodded his head in a mocking way, pursing his lips. “hm, right. so this isn’t you getting back at me for the other day, is it? because i told you-“

“getting back at you?” you cut him off shaking your head in disbelief. “get over yourself farleigh. am i not allowed to talk to other people? not everything’s about you, you know.” except this totally was about him. you almost groaned when you saw the smirk forming on his lips. that bastard. he knew, of course he did.

‘i know we be so complicated lovin you sometimes drive me crazy cause i can’t have what i want and neither can you’

you refused to meet his eyes when he called out your name, arms crossed looking at the people dancing around you. farleigh chuckled, taking a step closer. you took one back in return. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were jealous.” his tone was teasing, and you didn’t have to look at him to know he still had that infuriatingly attractive smirk on his face. i am. “of what? you’re not my boyfriend, you can do whatever you want.” you looked up at him, doing your best to appear nonchalant. farleigh laughed, throwing his head back like you had said the funniest joke he’s ever heard, which only served to agitate you more.

his eyes were practically sparkling when he looked down at you, his hands reaching to cup your face despite your failed attempts to push him away. “i didn’t fuck her. if that’s what you’re pissed about, all we did was make out...” he trailed off unsure if he should say what he was thinking. the way he was looking at you made your cheeks warm up, but you refused to speak. you wanted him to say it. you knew what he wanted to say, and as stupid as it sounded, you refused to be the first one to break. “i haven’t slept with anyone for months now actually.” his hands now resting on your hips squeezed them lightly.

farleigh admitting that shouldn’t of felt as good as it did, but it was as if you could feel a weight lifting off your shoulders. you hoped for a different kind of confession, but this was also nice to know. although you weren’t all that happy that he was still going around shoving his tongue down other peoples throats you couldn’t exactly complain either. he wasn’t your boyfriend. you had to remind yourself of that.

‘but you ain’t my boyfriend and i ain’t your girlfriend but you don’t want me to touch nobody else baby, we ain’t gotta tell nobody’

“like i said, farleigh, you’re free to do whatever you want. nothing is stopping you.” farleigh let out a mixture of what sounded like a groan and laugh, pulling you closer to him without you attempting to push him away this time around. “you” he paused to pinch your cheek softly. “are so fucking stubborn, did you know that?”

you couldn’t hold back the giggle that escaped your lips as you looked up at him, finally giving in to his touch. you had only been ignoring him for a few days, but it felt like a lifetime to you and even if he wouldn’t say it, you knew he felt the same way if the way he was gripping your hips was anything to go by.

“were you really going to fuck that loser to get back at me?” farleigh suddenly asked, looking over to where the guy whose name you’d already forgotten now sat talking with a different girl, his face in that permanent scowl he seemed to have when he wasn’t around you or his friends. “i tuned him out the moment he opened his mouth to be honest.” you could feel your cheeks heating up once again as he laughed at your honesty. “yeah, i figured once you wouldn’t stop eye fucking me from across the room.”

“shut up!” you groaned, swatting his chest. “you’re the one who has a staring problem, you creep. seriously, you’re worse than that fucking ollie kid.” farleigh huffed, somewhat offended that you would compare him to oliver but said nothing else as he pulled you towards the table where felix and the rest of his posse sat, all of them immediately pretending like they hadn’t been watching when you both approached except for felix, who gave farleigh a not so subtle smirk when he pulled you to sit on his lap.

‘if you were my boyfriend and you were my girlfriend i probably wouldn’t see nobody else’

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ︶︶︶⠀⠀୨୧⠀⠀︶︶︶

i suck at endings can u tell ꃋᴖꃋ i know i said i wasn’t gonna write and i probably won’t for a while but i had to get this idea out of my head! i ♥︎ farleigh start. also sorry for any errors! i’m nervous just posting this, bye

[leaawrites]

Please Please Please (OB3)

Ollie Bearman x fem!reader

Summary: The internet can be a cruel place, especially when no one knows your boyfriend is taken, and rumors seem to be loved by the f1 community.

Warnings: allegations of cheating, cursing, crying, alcohol,

Wordcount: 1.5k

Masterlist, Short n'Sweet Series

“Holy shit.”

Y/n looked from the dance floor to her friend, who was sitting opposite of the table they were all gathered around in a club way too fancy for a simple night out. She was just filming a video of her other friend, Kasey, dancing with her boyfriend; liking to capture any moment of life possibly.

“What?” Y/n asked, stop recording in case something terrible has happened. You never knew who would see those videos one day.

She watched Lily, the one who spoke first, look up at her, her eyes filled with guilt. A guilt she could see was growing into pity by the second. Y/n furrowed her eyebrows together, looking at the other two around her to find answer in them, but she didn’t. It was all just a single feeling. Pity.

“What happened?” She asked again, fear and panic creeping up her spine.

Lily turned her phone around, showing her the screen in front of her. There was a photo of someone who looked like her boyfriend, dancing with another girl. Tears threatened to leave her eyes, the make up on her face scolding her for crying over something so stupid.

She didn’t even know if it was him

It could just be a friend of his he hadn’t introduced her to yet. (she couldn’t really blame him, he knew her friends barely too. They were only dating for about 3 months now and with his job as a future F1 driver, the media went crazy over him at the moment.)

He promised her, he would always be there for her.

Kasey stumbled over to the table, clutching her boyfriends hand and giggling. The alcohol in her blood rushing her heartbeat to a new high. She bent down, leaving a kiss on Y/n’s cheek, who was still sitting as if she was paralyzed.

Sinking down on the chair next top her, she said, “I saw you filming. Thank you for being the best friend anyone could wish for. Ollie’s really lucky to have you.” Her voice still boomed over the others, but the music was a bit quieter than on the dance floor. They all heard her, loud and clear.

Y/n started picking at her nails at the mention of his name, the phone still in her hands. Looking down on it, she felt a tear slip past her eye and down on the screen. His profile facing her, not looking at her. He was looking at her. The girl he was so close with. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t. He would never do something like this, right? He would never hurt her like this. This wasn’t him. It couldn’t be.

“What’s wrong, love?” Kasey asked, sensing the strange behavior of her friend. Y/n’s body collapsed into her arms, tears streaming down her face. She put the phone on the table, clear for everyone to see.

Please, please, please, don’t let it be him.

“That motherfucker,” Kasey cursed him, watching the screen, sobering up rather quickly now that the anger flooded her veins instead. “Who does he think he is? A red bull driver? No, he’s with Haas.”

Lily took her phone back, dialing his number, ready to call in case Y/n wanted to. Kasey rubbed the girl’s arm in comfort, looking at her boyfriend to tell him to get the car ready outside the club. She wanted to go home, so much was clear.

“It’s probably just his British nicety shining through,” Lily tried to make him seem innocent. She knew how shitty it was, but she also knew that the internet lied about most things. Y/n didn’t know the truth, she shouldn’t be too quick to assume anything.

The group was hesitant about Ollie from the beginning, wanting to protect Y/n from future heartbreak or problems like these. The internet and how people felt bigger through it. Putting their opinion higher than anyone else’s, because there no one truly knew them. They knew she would get hate for dating him, they knew he had the ability to make her feel like the most worthless person to ever exist. But she loved him and so they watched the tale unfold with suspicion.

“You wanna go home?” Kasey cooed, making the girl nod and wipe her eyes.

With her head low, she walked as quick as she could, avoiding the crowd like she was a fallen soldier. Holding back the evidence of failing in fear of seeming weak.

Ollie made sure they were staying between them, not showing her off to the public and seemingly being single to the fans, just in case they would ruin what they had. As it seems, he could do it all by himself.

" I need to talk to him,” she mumbled as the stumbled out of the club, holding on to Lily’s hand in fear of tripping in her state. The girl only handed her her phone, the number already ready.

Excusing herself to a more secluded place, Y/n walked over to the other side of the small parking lot beneath a street light so that they could still see her. Kasey explained to her boyfriend what she was doing.

Y/n took a deep breath before exhaling and waiting for a second until her voice seemed stable enough to talk to him. It rang three times before he finally picked up. The music in the background fading as he answered and walked further away to hear her more clearly.

“Lily?” he asked.

Right, she thought, it wasn’t her phone.

“Is everything alright? Is Y/n okay?” he continued asking, sounding slightly panicked.

“I’m fine,” the girl answered.

“Y/n?” Ollie asked, surprised to hear his girlfriend’s voice on the other side of the line. “What is going on? Do you need my help? Did your phone die again?”

“No, uhm, I actually wanted to talk to you about something,” she said, her voice wavering and eventually breaking.

“Hold up, let me get out of here so I can listen to you properly.” Y/n waited, legs trembling, while the music was completely gone after a door closed on Ollie’s side. “What is it? Did you cry? You sound like it. Did you hurt yourself or anything?”

“If you don’t want me, you should say it before I fall even more for you, you know?” She said, tears falling again.

“What?” Ollie was shocked. She imagined his eyebrows creasing together, his eyes filling with panic, his heartbeat picking up. She wanted him to hurt when she did too. It were his own actions in the end after all. “I don’t understand what you mean? Not wanting you? How could you even say something like that? Of course I want you.”

“Do you also want her?” It was now or never, and if she had to get the truth out of him, she might as well make it quick.

“What? Who?” he asked again. Confused. Trying to wrap his head around where she got the feeling from that they weren’t serious.

“The girl in the photos from tonight?” she continued talking. “I saw them, OK? You don’t have to lie anymore. Please, Ollie, please tell me the truth. Please.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said honestly.

“Lily showed me photos of you in the club tonight with a girl. You seemed cozy. Close.” She bit her lip from crying even more. Now that the words left her mouth, they felt more real too. More threatening.

“What did she look like? What did I look like?” He had to make sure she trusted him and that was by showing her that whatever she saw, wasn’t real.

“You looked normal?” she said, confused as to what he wanted the answers for. “White shirt, brown hair. I don’t know, Ollie, I don’t know what she looked like, I couldn’t look at her.” She started sobbing again, hand over her mouth to stifle the pathetic sounds coming from her. “I just couldn’t have it be real. I couldn’t.”

“It’s not,” he said, assuring her. His heart broke at the mere thought of hurting her. Hiding her was his way of protecting her, but maybe it wasn’t the best way to do it. Maybe that only made it worse. “What you saw, it was not real. I know what you’re talking about, I know about the pictures. Arthur showed them to me a few seconds before you called. I wanted to call you, I really did. You were just the first one to do so.”

“It wasn’t you?” she asked to make sure. A burden falling from her heart at the relief of not losing him like this.

“It’s not me,” he said. After a moment of silence he added, “I’ll pick you up, okay? We’ll get home and talk about everything, alright?”

“Yes.” she nodded even though he couldn’t see her. Smiling at the knowing of the truth. “I love you, Ollie.”

“I love you too.”

[fiapartridge]

you don't go to parties | j. hughes 🎆🪩✨

“i don’t know who im looking for ‘cause you don’t go to parties anymore…” you don’t go to parties, 5 seconds of summer

pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: after ending your relationship with jack, he finally plucks up the courage to attend a party—and all he can think about is you.

warning(s): cursing, smut (like they have sex but it’s more heated & slow than trying to be super smutty), angst + fluff?? (in some aspects LOL), also noticing now that there was no protection so beware lol

author’s note: i don’t write smut so this is probably the closest ill ever get to writing it LOL but it’s much more for the plot rather than it trying to be super 18+, r-rated type smut yk

wc: 4.01k

not proofread

Glitter hung in the air, every room bathed in a purple glow as Jack hung by the wall, nursing a beer he had managed to snag from the cooler outside. The air was thick with the scent of perfumes and sweat, and the music thumped in his chest, yet he felt—detached, almost alone in the scheme of things. 

The party was a blur of lights and sounds, of hookups and dancing. None of it held any interest for him, but his friends had practically begged him to come. They nagged him the entire summer to leave the lakehouse, to have a drink at the bar downtown, or even to just go on a drive with them, but Jack always came up with an excuse. “Can’t. Training for next season,” or “Gotta raincheck. Something came up.”

They knew what it was. It was obvious. He was missing you. You plagued his mind every second of every minute of every day. Jack knew he had messed up. The moments leading up to the collapse of your relationship replayed in his mind like a broken record—the arguments, the tears, the things he said that he couldn’t take back. The memories of you haunted him. He could feel you throughout the whole house.

You met Jack when you were 17. He hosted a draft party at the lake house the second he got back home to Michigan. Jack, being the cocky teenager he was at the time, made it an open-invite party. Sure, it wasn’t smart on his part but he was a clueless teen. He didn’t know better, but he thanks himself everyday knowing that that one decision led him to meeting you.

Your brother—one of Jack’s school friends—had been invited and asked if you wanted to come. You were hesitant at first. You had seen Jack around school, laughing loudly with his friends or pressing a girl up against the lockers, locking themselves together with heated kisses. You had always found him obnoxious, masking his stupidity with insensitive jokes and being portrayed as a “dumb jock.” But ever the hypocrite you were, because there you were, at that obnoxious, insensitive guy’s draft party. Go you.

Entering the house, you noticed the high ceilings and swarm of strangers that knew Jack better than you; who were probably wondering why you were even there, or who you even were. To your left, a group of friends talked animatedly on a set of plush couches, their drinks spilling out of their cups with every swing of their arms, and their makeup perfectly done on their face like they had hired professionals for this specific event. You felt out of place and, to your luck, your brother had abandoned you the second you stepped through that door.

Who knew you could be surrounded by hundreds of people, yet still feel so alone?

Weaving through the crowded house, you made your way to the backyard, which was just as packed as inside the house, except there was a slight breeze and it didn’t smell as terrible. String lights criss-crossed above the partygoers, creating a canopy of twinkling stars. A fire pit crackled in one corner, Adirondack chairs lining the perimeter as guests chatted all around you. The pool was lit within, its water glowing an intoxicatingly vivid blue. You stood there, watching the stillness of the water as everyone filled around you. The music thumped in your chest, in your ears, in your bloodstream, but you watched the water, and for a moment, you felt okay.

“I always wanna jump in at parties,” a deep voice said beside you. 

You hesitated before speaking. “Why don’t you? It’s your party, isn’t it?” you asked, face-to-face with the man of the hour. His chestnut hair was cut short, truly showing how young he is. You wondered how he could do this: have eyes on him at all times, have so many expectations weighing on his conscience, being judged constantly. It felt—suffocating, to say the least.

“Do you know how many hockey legends are here?” he laughed, as if the building was swarmed with secret spies. 

“And yet you’re standing here. Why’s that?” you asked, looking up at the boy.

And for the first time in your life, Jack Hughes looked at you. And it wasn’t in the gross, disgusted way he looked at clumsy kids in the hallway, or the way he looked at pretty girls like they were his next meal. He looked at you in earnest, an emotion you didn’t even know he was capable of possessing.

“Do you think I don’t know you?” he eyed you, his brow raising as you broke his—hate to admit it—intimidating gaze. You watched the water before you, crossing your arms over your chest as you began to feel that unwelcome, fish-out-of-water feeling again. Moving closer to you, his voice fell almost to a whisper as you felt chills run down your spine due to the proximity. “I know you’re the obnoxious girl that thinks she knows every answer to every question, who already judged every single person at this party without ever learning their names, who doesn’t like me, yet still came. Why’s that?” he asked, repeating the same question you had asked just moments before.

You felt bare in front of him, confused as to how he knew any of that stuff about you. Surely he was too busy making out with girls and slinging a stick around to pay attention to you. So why had he just read you like a book without you having to say a single word?

You shrugged. “I wanted to see what you were about, I guess.”

“Yeah?” he smirked, his tongue poking his cheek as you dared yourself not to look up at him. “How’d I do?”

“Not sure yet.”

He bumped his shoulder with yours, butterflies bumbling around your stomach. “Not just a dumb jock, you know. That’s all Luke.”

You scoffed quietly, a small smile playing on your lips as you lessened up the need to try to fight it. You were smiling because of Jack Hughes, and to be honest, you didn’t really mind it. “He asked me the difference between a square and a rectangle once,” you joked. You had some classes with Luke, and while you two weren’t best friends, you still talked to each other once in a while.

Jack laughed, watching Luke in the corner of his eye try to talk to a girl that was way too old for him. “You’re laughing,” he smiled, noticing you cover your face and still your giggles. “See, I’m not that bad.”

You rolled your eyes before looking up at him. He watched the partygoers on the other side of the pool mingling, his jawline sharpened and his moles scattering much of the surface area of his face. You hadn’t noticed much about his appearance until then, until you finally got a good look at him, at his personality.

You two sat poolside for a while, your legs dipped in the water as you talked about anything and everything. Occasionally people would pull him away to chat, but he would always come back to you, telling you all about the boring conversations, how much he hated networking at a party that’s supposed to be fun, how he hated being treated and expected to be like an adult when he was far from it.

He didn’t notice he was talking to you for so long until the party thinned and it was just you and him in the backyard. Cups littered all around you, his mom picking them up as she not-so-subtly eavesdropped on your conversation. His brothers were inside the house, watching you two from the kitchen window, and Trevor and Cole speculated who you even were while trying not to pass out on the couch in the living room.

For the first time in a while, Jack felt, I don’t know, good about himself? Like he wasn’t praised for doing such little things, or told he’s some amazing person just because he’s good at passing a puck around. Like he was able to talk, and someone was there to listen. And for some reason, he actually kind of liked being criticized by you. It showed that you paid attention; that you were real. He hadn’t met someone real in a while.

He remembered the time you had dragged him to a New Year’s Eve party at your friend Avery's apartment a couple years later.

He was wearing “2024”-shaped sunglasses that matched yours, and a shiny, gold, plastic fedora that made you laugh every time you looked at him. His arms were wrapped around you from behind as you entered the house, his lips planting a kiss on the crown of your head as you two separated to hug the group of people that stood near the door.

You talked to your friends, catching up on everything you guys missed in each other’s lives while in college. Jack snuck up behind you, kissing your cheek before slipping off your coat and placing it on the couch by the entrance. 

The party was chill, much more relaxed than any of the parties Jack was invited to that night. You had urged him to go to them, knowing he would have much more fun with his friends, singing karaoke, getting wasted, and blasting music until they can’t hear anymore, but he shook his head, saying, “Parties are only fun if you’re there,” he shrugged. “Besides, how am I supposed to get my New Year’s kiss without you?”

The two of you mingled for a while, sharing nostalgic stories about high school and the time Jack had confused “pads with wings” with pads and chicken wings. The living room was filled with soft music and the hum of conversations. Jack kept close, his hand finding yours every now and then as if to ask if you were okay, if you needed food or a refill on your drink, if you were tired and wanted to go home—you were always his first priority. 

As the night progressed, the countdown to midnight drew closer. People began to gather in the living room, excitement buzzing in the air. Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve played on the television as Jack pulled you to a spot where you could both see the screen. His arm wrapped around your waist, and you leaned into him, sniffing his cologne and laughing when he caught you.

Before you knew it, the countdown began and everyone started chanting along.

“Ten, nine, eight…”

You turned to Jack, his eyes locked on yours, a charismatic smile playing on his lips. Even after dating for five years, he still managed to make you nervous. You had hoped that that feeling would never go away. You want to be nervous because of Jack Hughes every single night—forever.

“Seven, six, five…”

The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing there.

“Four, three, two…”

Jack’s hand gently cupped your cheek, his palm warm and tender against your skin as you leaned into it. 

“One! Happy New Year!”

Cheers erupted around you, but all you could focus on was Jack as he leaned in—not too slow, not too fast—capturing your lips in an impossibly better-than-the-last, sweet, honey kiss. Your hands were in his hair, his were glued to your hips, and it was perfect. And for a moment, it was just you and him, sharing the first kiss of the new year.

When you finally pulled away, grins were etched to your faces. You still couldn’t believe he was yours.

“Happy New Year,” Jack whispered, his forehead resting against yours.

“Happy New Year,” you echoed.

Jack’s head rested against the wall behind him, his eyes closed, the music muffling around him as he thought back to the first time he said “I love you.”

It was your 18th birthday and you were celebrating it at the lake house. Knowing Alex, Trevor, and Cole, they planned this huge rager for you, inviting nearly half the neighborhood—and then some. 

After you said your hellos and knowing that the party could continue without you, you wandered upstairs, finding yourself in Jack’s room as you sat on his bed; his gray cover soft under your fingertips as you brushed over the fabric. You just needed a minute. 

Before you knew Jack—like, really knew Jack—you hadn’t had a birthday party in years. It wasn’t like your family didn’t care about you, or your friends didn’t want to celebrate you. Everyone in your life meant something to you, and you meant something to them too. You just couldn’t go to parties to save your life. You would walk in, see all the girls that are prettier than you, all the guys that act like you don’t exist, you’d get in your head, get overwhelmed, and leave quickly after. This just wasn’t for you.

And because Jack knew you, he knew you would be upstairs.

The door slowly creaked open, causing your head to rise, and a sigh to fall from your lips—just Jack. He smiled at you, shutting the door softly behind him as he sat beside you on the bed. You two sat surrounded by the soft glow of dim lamps, and the distant thumping of music that had seeped through the floorboards beneath your feet. 

His heart pounded in his chest. He knew you were beautiful, but sometimes he’s just so amazed by you, like you’re a new person every single day. Like there were new discoveries to be made, like he could never get bored with you. To Jack, you were everything. And who needs anything else in the world if he had everything sitting right beside him?

His hand rested on your thigh, his thumb running up and down the exposed skin. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

You furrowed your brows. “For what?”

He shrugged. “For the party. I know you didn’t want it.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want it,” you murmured, sighing. “It’s just—I’m not Trevor, or Cole, or the number one overall draftee, Jack Hughes,” you smirked, bumping your shoulder with his. 

He shook his head. “No one’s telling you to be. We could’ve watched a movie,” he suggested, grinning. “Or gone on a shopping spree, or went on a drive. You don’t have to do anything for anyone else, especially on your birthday.”

“I like parties when you’re there—and no one else is,” you laughed as Jack scoffed, a smile pulling at his lips.

“I like those parties, too.” He went silent for a minute, just the hum of music playing from the outside filling the room as you focused on his thumb on your thigh. “I know I’ve been busy with hockey and everything lately, but I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re not important to me, or that I’m not thinking about you, because I am—all the time. You’re the most important person in my life.”

Your heart swelled at his words as you squeezed his hand. “I know, J,” you nodded. “I knew what I was getting into when you asked me out,” you smiled, meeting his gaze. 

He had been busy with his rookie season for the past year: being called a bust, getting injured over and over again, fans questioning if the Devils made the correct choice with him. He grew quiet during those months, more frustrated—with himself, with his game, with the people around him. You were worried for him, begging him to just talk to you about it. He shielded himself from everything and everyone. He almost lost you because of it, and he vowed to never do that shit ever again; to never get so close to losing himself that he ends up losing you.

He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re really fuckin’ cool, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes, that smile planted on your lips never fading away. “I know.”

Laughing, he smiled, a small, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace. “I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You buried your face in Jack’s chest, breathing in the familiar scent of seasalt and ocean breeze. “Luckily for you, you’ll never have to find out.”

He kissed the top of your head, his chin resting on your hair as your cheek laid against his chest. “I love you,” he whispered, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

He felt you tense beneath him, pulling back slightly. His heart sped up. “What?”

He gulped before breathing in. “I love you,” he repeated, his voice steadier this time. “I think I’ve always been in love with you—you make it hard not to be.”

Your breath caught, a small smile encapsulating your blushy face. “I love you, too.”

Before you could say anything else, Jack closed the distance between the two of you, his lips capturing yours in a tender kiss. The music was gone, the thumping of your heartbeat was put to the back of your mind, every doubt and every worry you had for this relationship was dissipated immediately—nothing existed at this moment. It was jack, jack, jack, plus a hundred times more.

Jack’s hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. You responded naturally, your fingers threading through his hair, holding him close as if afraid he might disappear, like this moment was just a figment of your imagination. 

Gently, Jack guided you higher up the bed, his movements careful and deliberate. He laid you down, hovering over you, his eyes filled with adoration. “I love you so much,” he whispered against your lips before capturing them in another kiss.

Your hands roamed his back as you tugged at his shirt, eager to feel his skin against yours. Jack immediately understood, pulling away just long enough to discard his striped tee before returning to you, his kisses growing more urgent. 

As you pulled him closer, your own shirt joined his on the floor, your lacy red bra standing out against your skin. Jack’s breath hitched at the sight, his hands trembling as they traced the contours of your body, committing every inch and every curve to memory. He wanted to explore every dimple and every mole, every birthmark, and every faint touch that made you squirm. He wanted to know you, as thoroughly as possible.

“Holy shit,” he murmured breathlessly, praising you to the highest level. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Jack’s lips left a trail of kisses down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He paused, his gaze meeting yours, a silent question in his eyes. He wouldn’t do anything unless you wanted to. You answered with a nod, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw before pulling him back to you. 

“I love you, Jack,” you whispered against his lips. “I want this.”

Jack’s hands moved with increasing urgency, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Roaming lower, they explored the curve of your waist before slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. His fingers found their way to your core, gently exploring, teasing.

A soft moan escaped your lips, your body arching against his touch. “Jack,” you breathed.

He kissed you deeply, his fingers moving with deliberate, tender motions, drawing soft gasps and breathless moans. “I love you…so much,” he murmured against your lips.

Your breaths became ragged, his name becoming the only thing left in your vocabulary. The room grew warmer, more intoxicating. Jack felt you getting closer to your high, quickly removing his fingers before you could reach it as you whined out, breathless.

He paused, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot and heavy. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked again.

You nodded, your eyes locked with his. “I’m sure, Jack. I want you.”

With a shuddering breath, he captured your lips again, the kiss deep and all-consuming. His hands found the clasp of your bra, unhooking it, and letting it fall away. He stared at you for a moment, taking in your bare body before his lips began to trail downwards, worshiping every inch of you.

Your hands found the waistband of his pants, your hands working sloppily as you fumbled with the button. Paying no mind, he helped you, discarding his pants and boxers in one swift motion. Jack’s body pressed against yours, the heat of his skin against yours almost too much to bear. His kisses were everywhere, trailing down your neck, across your collarbone, and finally to your breasts, where he lingered, drawing soft moans from your lips.

You arched against him, your body pleading for more, for everything. "Jack, please," you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath.

He met your eyes, his gaze soft and safe. "I love you," he said again, his voice full of emotion. "Let me show you how much."

With that, he kissed you deeply, his body aligning with yours. The moment he entered you, it was like everything else fell away, leaving only the two of you, connected in the most intimate way possible. The rhythm of your movements, the gasps and moans, all blended perfectly, like this was right where you were supposed to be—with Jack, here, and in love.

His thrusts were slow at first, measured, each one driving you closer to the edge. The feeling of him inside you, filling you completely, was overwhelming. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to go deeper.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeated against your lips, over and over again. 

Jack’s thrust became more urgent, his breathing ragged, matching your own. His heavy grunts, as your fingers dug into his back pulling him closer, closer, impossibly closer, filled the warm room. 

As your climax built, your hands weaved through his hair, needing to feel him, needing to be as close as humanly possible. Each thrust hit harder and faster than the last, bringing you closer to the edge. 

“Jack,” you cried out, your body tensing as that unfamiliar feeling approached, the high almost too much to handle.

His face was buried in your neck, holding you tightly. “Y/N,” he groaned, pushing you through your high, his own release nearly there.

With a final thrust, the string you held onto so tightly, slipped from your fingers, a balloon inside you erupting at the feeling. You cried out his name once more, your body trembling with the force of your release. Jack followed, his own climax crashing over him. 

You clung to each other, your bodies trembling with aftershocks. Jack held you against his chest, his breath ragged, and his heart pounding against yours.

As you laid entwined, the world slowly came back into focus. The sounds of the party were distant now, a faint reminder of where you were. But at that moment, it didn’t matter. You didn’t care about what was going on downstairs, who was missing you, or who was asking for Jack. All that mattered right now was the two of you, and it felt perfect.

“Don’t know if I said it enough, but I love you,” Jack chuckled, his arm wrapped around your small frame.

You smiled, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin. “I love you, too, J. Always.”

Always.

  Always.

    Always.

      Always.

         Always.

Opening his eyes, Jack watched the crowd around him, his gaze instinctively searching for you. He didn’t know why he was doing it. There was no point—not anymore, not when he fucked everything up. Not when he let you slip from his fingers and leave his life entirely.

His eyes settled on a girl in the corner of the room, a red solo cup in hand, her cheeks a flushed mess, and he wondered why he was even at that party. None of these girls could hold a candle to you, not even if they tried. 

Yet Jack watched the door, and willed for you to come, despite knowing you don’t go to parties anymore.

[mcu-coworkers]

You?

Summary: What you thought was your love story ended up being one cruel summer.

Word Count: 1k+

warnings: None really other than angry Miguel :I

A/n: amidst writing a part 3 for another story I got inspired by doctor strange and gave it a bit of a twist. Hope you guys like it!xx

Parts: One^ Two three Four

You had never seen Miguel so angry before.

Sure he was always short with everyone and never smiled other than to laugh at someone.

But when he did laugh, even if it was at someone, your heart couldn't help but skip a beat.

There were days when he’d call you into his office and ask you to update him on the spiders and the sectors they were handling and sometimes, if he was in a good enough mood, he’d ask about you.

Despite the mood swings, and his constant frown you wanted nothing more than to stand by his side and be there for all of it.

Peter B. though you were crazy for having feelings towards the coldest spider in the spider society but all things considered, he was probably right.

Only a crazy person would fall head over heels for someone who gave no sign of reciprocating feelings.

You had hope you’d get through one day.

That day definitely was not today.

You’d been caught up on a mission for the past couple of hours so you never responded to any of the comms. When you arrived back at HQ you were horrified by the mess.

You tried to ring Miguel but no luck, then you tried Jess, Ben, Gwen, shit, even Hobbie and still nothing.

Finally you were about to try Peter B. when he popped up behind you.

“You’re not gonna reach them, and honestly,  I   don’t think you want to.” he said as he held a very active May Day in his arms.

“What happened here?” you asked your voice barely above a whisper.

“ I  ‘d tell you but maybe it's better if you just watch.” he said, pulling up all the camera footage.

And holy shit.

Suddenly you felt a lot worse about ignoring those comms from Miguel.

“Shit.” you cursed under your breath.

“Yeah, listen  I   should get going. Miguel will be back soon and  I  ‘m the last person he’ll want to see.” he said, opening a portal.

“Bye Pete, take care of yourself okay?” You said with a soft smile as he slowly disappeared into the portal.

Looking back at the paused footage you didn't know what to think.

You understood Miles, but you also understood Miguel.

But still, seeing the way he handled this and how out of hand he got made chills run down your spine.

You didn’t even want to think what would’ve happened had he gotten through the shield of the go home machine.

Lost in thought you never heard Miguel enter the room.

“Where the hell have you been?” you heard him yell as he walked up to you.

You practically jumped out of your skin at the sound of his tone.

“On a mission you know that Miguel” you said trying to not anger him further.

“ I   called you to come back, so where the fuck were you.” he wasnt letting up.

“Miguel  I  got the guy  I  -” you tried but he cut you off.

“When  I   say come back that means come back am  I   fucking clear?” he said, looking down at you.

You’d never felt so intimidated by him before, not even on the first day after being recruited.

“Yes sir.” was all you could manage to say.

Finally he stepped back and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in.

“Lyla pull up the records of the go home machine and tell me where it sent him.” He said turning his back to you.

You could hear the distress in his voice so you thought of a way to help.

Walking up to him with caution you put a hand on his shoulder, “Miguel, Maybe you need to take a step  back let someone else handle it.” you suggested.

“Yeah? Who?You? Thats a fucking joke. You could barely handle a stupid villain, you’ll never catch this kid.” he snarled, shrugging your arm off.

Taken back by his statement you felt a heavy weight on your chest.

“Miguel-” you tried but again you were cut off.

“What are you gonna say some inspirational shit? Tell me you're here to help?hm?” he asked, turning back to you.

“Yes, Miguel, I am here for you, always. But this, this is mania. Some things can't be fixed by yourself. ” You said the weight on your chest felt heavier.

When he stayed quiet you took it as a sign to keep going.

“Maybe this is a sign to consider stopping, look at how much of a toll this is taking on you.” you urged the man was grasping for straws at this point if they didn't find Miles he’d be lost.

“This is my life's work, there is no me without the multiverse.” he exclaimed, turning away from you.

“There are so many things that give your life meaning, that could give your life meaning.” you suggested, realizing what that last part sounded like you felt your face heat up.

Shit.

He stopped his pacing and turned to you, “Like what? You?”

Suddenly you felt your world come crashing down. You had nothing left to lose.

“Yeah. Me.” you said barely above a whisper.

“You care so much don’t you? You think  I   want your pity? That  I  need you?”he said aggressively.

“ I   have never pitied you.”you snapped back.

“Good, because  I   don't need it. And  I   don't need you.” and with that he turned back around leaning on his desk.

You had nothing left for him. Or the spider society.

“Goodbye, Miguel.” was all you said before you walked out of the room and opened the portal to go home, for good.

“That was a bit rough for someone you like, don't you think?” Lyla asked, watching Miguel as he looked over to the door you walked out of.

He decided to focus on one thing at a time, Miles now you later.

He knew you’d come back and when you did, he’d fix it.

If there was something he could fix in this fucked up world it was the mistakes he made with you.

“The files Lyla.” he said changing the subject.

Sighing, Lyla gave him what he wanted and left.

She didn't have the heart to tell him that you left your watch and your suit at HQ.

[coryosbaby]

Camera Ready ✧･ﾟ: Finnick Odair x reader

Summary: Neither of you really care if anyone sees.

Warning: exhibitism, voyeurism, p n v, riding, they fuck in the arena while it’s being televised, spit kink, size kink, creampie, switch ! Finnick, switch! Reader

⭒

“You know you could walk a little slower, sweetness. ”

Finnick’s voice blares out teasingly into the morning air as he trails behind you. Your hair sticks to your forehead in sweaty strands, your body on high alert as you make sure to scope out any remaining candidates that aren’t on your side. Which isn’t much, considering you have Katniss and the others, but it’s still a good idea to be cautious. To your relief you had found Finnick in the woods last night. And as much of a victor as you are, the dark makes you nervous. So he had allowed you to sleep beside him, curled up with his arms wrapped around you. It wasn’t intentional, of course, but when he sleeps it seems that he tends to get handsy. And when the warmth of his body was beside you, you couldn’t resist letting him throw you into his embrace.

“Maybe you could walk a little faster, pretty boy.”

He chuckles at the nickname, his pace finally catching up with you so you can see the cocky smile on his face.

“You think I’m pretty?”

Your friendship is like this, a lot. Flirtation, playful banter, and a few hook ups every now and then since the two of you met at a capital event one year. And now, even when you’re supposed to be enemies, you’re working together. It’s just a connection, an order that makes you both flow freely with each other and get the things you desire.

You ignore the way Finnick’s hands ignite flames on your skin and the way his smile makes your heart flourish. You also ignore the way you feel the constant need to protect him and keep him alive. In this game, you can’t have anything serious.

“Mm..” you reply. “Sometimes.”

Your hands wrap around his neck as you pull him to you. He smiles, that pretty crooked smile, and presses a kiss to your temple.

And then, you hear a snap.

You and Finnick are both on high alert then, and turning around you’re both faced with a victor. Not an ally, it seems, as she’s pointing a knife at the both of you.

It doesn’t take long before she’s dead, but it’s still a bother to you. You don’t like murdering these people, and you’ve never liked the whole idea or subject of the hunger games. The first time you had won, but at what cost when they’ve sent you right back in?

It’s kill or be killed. And as the woman’s blood splatters on your face, you sense that familiar feeling of rage from the first time you killed creeping back into your psyche. That rage that loathes the capital, loathes those stupid fucking districts as they fall into the ground. And your knife doesn’t stop the assault on her as you make sure she’s dead. It’s better, this way, to overdo it so they don’t have to suffer. Finnick is surprised at your strength and skill, he always has been, but he finds it best not to bring it to attention.

As you two walk away, the woods begins to clear. And then you both watch as you see the Arena come into view, dark and blood soaked.

“Great,” you mutter. “More to show the people.”

It’s obvious that everything is being recorded, but this is the most clear spot. As you sit down on one of the rock formations, your lean back to watch the clouds and the orange sunset. Finnick sits beside you, his neck and chest splattered with blood. And after a moment, you begin to speak.

“I don’t like doing this.” You state. “It’s all bullshit. It’s psychotic.”

Finnick nods in agreement, his jaw clenched as he watches the stains on your shirt.

“We should give them a show.” He says. “Do something that we know they can’t get away from.”

And that’s when you get the idea.

You look at him, a mere glance. You’re both probably sweaty and disgusting, but even now Finnick looks absolutely god like. You know he’s chiseled, under that gray suit. And you know what big thing lies underneath the crotch of his underwear.

You smile, your hand coming to rest gently on his muscled thigh. His eyebrows furrow in confusion, as he watches your palm begin to move up more.

“What are you doing?” He asks. He doesn’t seem completely against the idea, though. Because then that cocky smirk you know so good and well is plastered onto his face, his hands finding there way to the exposed skin of your shoulder. He leans over and kisses your collarbone, gently. You huff, your lips moving to graze the spot below his ear.

“If they want them a show, let’s give them a show.”

Seeming to be on the same page, Finnick crashes his lips into yours in a bruising kiss.

Meanwhile, at the capital, the monitors in the room begin to awkwardly watch as you push Finnick down onto the rocky arm. His back hits the floor with a grunt, and then he’s watching as you sit up and unzip the back of your suit. He groans when your tits are revealed to them, full and sitting in all their glory. He brings his hands up and gropes one in his hand, feels the soft skin and your pert nipples being brought to attention. You tut when he tries to move his fingers down to your pussy.

“No, Finn.” You coo. Your nails scratch his addam’s apple, and he flushes as you begin to climb on top of him. “No touching there until I say.”

He groans when you press down against his growing bulge.

“You know if we don’t hurry we could die, right?” He huffs.

“I don’t want to hear excuses, baby. We both know fucking me again is the last thing you want to do before you go.”

He can’t deny that, and as you demand that he lift himself up and unzip his suit down to his thighs, he follows your directions with desperation. You watch as you pull his briefs down below his balls, watch as his girthy length springs to full attention. He moans when your hand connects to his skin, and begins to jerk him off with vigor. You can feel a tension in the air, the feeling of being watched extremely prominent. And it shouldn’t get you so wet, but it does. So you bring yourself to eye level with Finnick’s cock, and spit down on him, quick to shove his tip into the warm confines of your mouth. He makes a deep sound in his throat, and you move away teasingly when his hips try and move his cock farther into your throat.

“C’mon, sugar.” He says, overwhelmed. “Don’t be mean.”

“Why don’t you just shut up and do what I say, Odair?” You demand. You slap his cock, and he groans, legs beginning to tremble at the pain and pleasure mixing. “Besides, I’m not letting you use my mouth right now. I just needed to get you wet.”

He whines in protest when you pull away from him. But then you’re pushing your suit down, past your calfs and onto the ground.

So help you, if you’re going to die it’s going to be like this.

When your pussy is revealed to him, Finnick’s cock jumps and he sits up to guide you to his lap. He’s warm, his cock drooling and messy. You don’t hesitate to rub his tip against your clit, your thighs holding his lean body down.

“Please, y/n, fuck!” Finnick stutters, the feeling of your wet silky cunt making him go crazy.

You smile as you finally guide him to your entrance, and sink down. His cock fills you up to impossible levels, his balls pressed flush against you when he finally bottoms out. His hands go to your waist, and when you bounce on him, his eyes roll back and he cries out like a bitch in heat.

“Jesus Christ.. you feel so fuckin’ good, angel. Love your pussy so much.”

“I know, sweet boy.” You moan when he grazes a soft spot inside you. “It f-feels good, doesn’t it? My little pussy feel good around that big cock?”

“God, yes. Cmon, ride me harder, momma. I know you can.”

And when you begin to fuck him faster, he brings his hands down to your ass, and begins bucking up into you with a feral pace. Your arousal makes him keen, makes his brain turn to mush the moment your scent hits him. You look so beautiful, so flushed and perfect, and something snaps inside of Finnick, then. His fingers spread your cheeks apart, and his voice is raw.

“Bet you like this, huh? The whole capital watching you get fuckin’ destroyed by my big cock? Hm?”

You gasp at his words, your fingers clawing at his chest.

“Finn, baby, fuck!”

“You love it, don’t you?”

No reply. Finnick slaps your ass harshly, and you yelp at the sting. His hands grab your throat in a harsh grip.

“Answer me!” He demands. You cry out, trying to nod the best you can, and then uttering out a “Yes! Yes sir!” As his large hands cut off your air supply.

“That’s my fuckin girl.” He replies. His fingers rub your clit, leaving your throat as you gasp for air and your orgasm washes over you. Your pussy gushes all over him, soaking his cock and balls and the rock below the both of you, and without warning Finnick is grabbing your hips with his large hands and turning you over so you’re beneath him. It’s quick, and you’re incredibly surprised. You wrap your legs around him as he begins to pummel you, now with more leverage and strength, and his cock feels like it’s destroying you from the inside out. You don’t complain, though. And when Finnick’s hips begin stuttering, you know he’s about to cum.

“C’mon, baby, cum inside me, cum in my pussy!”

Your words spur him on, makes him leave bruising marks on your wrists as he holds them above your head and begins to cum in thick, messy ropes. Your walls practically milk him of everything he’s got, and when he’s done you can feel the stickiness of his seed dripping off his cock and onto your thighs.

He buries his face in your neck, then. And with a small laugh, he pulls himself out and begins to lick his cum out of you. Your middle finger comes up into the air as he does it. A sign, as the victor from district 4 eats your pussy. A big ‘fuck you’ to the capital.

The cameramen and people at home watch in shock and awe. There’s a debate of whether or not they should turn it off, and after a while everyone becomes too distracted by the images on screen to worry about it. The next day, none of the other tributes look at you both the same.

Because at that time, they had been watching, too.

@emsbookcase

[rodolfoparras]

Three’s a crowd.

Summary: Price is your first love but you aren’t his.

Pairing: John Price x Male reader

Cw: enemies to lovers, past John Price x Nikolai, angst with a happy ending, not actually unrequited love, near death experience

A/N: this is from a spitball session that’s been completed, separate parts can be found here i, ii, iii,

Thinking about Price and Nik who used to date back in the day. While Price considered Nik to be his first love, Nik just didn’t feel the same way.

They still keep in touch, hooking up every once a while but it’s clear that Price is hoping that they’l get back together one day.

Both Price and Nik were sure that Price would never be able to move on until one you came along.

You’d been dubbed the troublesome soldier, kicked out of every squad you’ve been in but for whatever reason Price had taken you into his team and under his wing.

You don’t really know why since you vehemently denied any help he tried to give but you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t develop feelings for him.

But any flicker of hope is quickly snuffed out when you find out that he’s had a past with the Russian man.

While Nik buys Price gifts like records from his favorite bands, Price has to patch up your wounds because you got into another fight.

While Nik knows the tea Price likes to drink when he’s sick, you know how to push every single one of Price’s buttons until he’s fuming

While Nik knows how to fuck him right, you’ve never even slept with a man.

So you keep your mouth shut, choosing to only admire him from a distance.

But by doing so you also miss to see that the tea Nik buys for him, Price makes for you when you’re down with the flu.

The records Nik buys for him, Price mentions to you in hopes of finding something in common with you.

He even finds himself visiting Nik less and less because all he can think about is you fucking him into the mattress.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Although the two of you can’t see it, everyone around you is aware of the feelings you harbor for each other, especially Nik.

You’re all Price talks about when Nik and him are hanging out. Many times he’d call off one of their hm- meetings because you needed him that night and it’s hard to miss the love struck look in Price’s eyes, something Nik hadn’t even seen when the two of them had been dating.

Nik thought that Price would confess his feelings, take any opportunity to move on from the man he’s been hung up on for years but for whatever reason, Price wouldn’t confess, even played stupid when Nik brought it up to him.

So Nik tried another approach, by making you jealous in hopes of that being enough to make you fess up but instead it only managed to push you further away.

Nik almost pulled his hair out, flying a helicopter was much easier than getting two people together so he gave up, and let universe handle it instead.

In the meantime 141 was on your ass about it, telling you that it’s so clear that the captain reciprocates your feelings.

For one moment you had allowed yourself to believe it. With one too many drinks in your system you had stumbled over to Price’s office in an attempt to confess your feelings.

However what you saw had shattered your heart.

Stupid, stupid so stupid you think to yourself tears trickling down your cheeks as you sprint to you room, far away from Price’s office.

Of course Price didn’t reciprocate your feelings, he was busy getting fucked by the man he was actually in love with.

“What is he going to think? Fuck!” Price says after you had hastily walked away. kicking the trash can laying around in his office, still half naked.

“John cal-“ Nik tries to say but gets interrupted by the older man.

“Don’t, Nikolai, just please leave, please? I would like to be alone for a moment”

Nik wants to argue but instead he lets out a sigh and picks up his clothes off of the floor, quickly dressing himself before walking out through the door.

“You should tell him you know?” Nik says with a sad smile on his face. Price doesn’t even get to spit out an impromptus lie about how he doesn’t like you in that way before Nik is walking away.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The opportunity to talk doesn’t come around. His days are filled with missions and his nights are filled with paper work that just seem to be piling up and when the two of you have some sort of interaction Price doesn’t even know what to say because it’s not like the two of you are anything in the first place.

He did nothing wrong by fucking Nik he was just lonely and tired of pining for the man who doesn’t even seem to noice him. But then that very same man walked in at the wrong moment and everything came crashing down on him.

Stupid stupid so stupid, Price thinks to himself as he sulks in silence.

Weeks have passed after that incident, the two of you are distant as ever. Price thinks that maybe it’s meant to be this way, you weren’t even anything in the first place.

But just as the thought pops up in his head there’s blood - your blood splashing across his face and you’re falling to the ground while he rushes towards your bleeding body.

You’re muttering I love you’s while he’s carrying you to the emergency room, because you’re so sure you’re going to die that day and Price is repeatedly saying that he won’t say it back not yet because this isn’t a goodbye and if you’re going to confess your love for him you have to ask him out on dinner first. You have to be alive and well when you do it, goddammit!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

There’s going to be a next time he says as he sits in the emergency room while you’re being operated.

There’s going to be a fancy dinner and he’s going to wear the suit that barley fits him anymore, even if the doctors had told him there were complications.

There’s going to be an opportunity to say that he loves you, he thinks to himself as he watches you still asleep in the hospital bed, monitors connected to every bit of your body.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The sun is pleasantly warm as it shines down on your face, the drink you’d been nursing is cold in your hand. The only thing missing is-

“Clementine ?” Price says already knowing what you’re thinking. Your face lights up, shining as bright as the sun and you eagerly nod at his proposal.

It’s certainly not a dinner like you had promised but due to your injuries you were still recovering and sitting outside on the grass on a warm summer day and eating clementines is as close to a fancy dinner as you’ll get.

Price can’t help but laugh as he hands you a piece. “It’s funny no?”

“What is?” You say biting down on the fruit, tasting the sweet and sour goodness.

“You hate the smell of clementines yet you love eating them” he says before giving you another piece which you gracefully take.

“They’re good as long as I don’t have to peel them” you say with a playful glint in your eyes.

Price scoffs as if offended but you can still see the smile on his face as he hands you another piece. “What am I then? You personal Clementine peeler?”

“Yes yes you are” you say, a laugh escaping your lips but quickly disappearing as you see the mischievous look on him.

Before you know it he’s burying his face in your neck, the smell of clementines engulfing your sense and his sticky fingers touching all over your face.

“No go away you stink” you say through fits of laughter but Price doesn’t care, continues to nuzzle his face in your neck while lightly dragging his sticky fingers alongside of your ribs to not agitate your injuries.

“Okay okay you win! You’re not just a Clementine peeler is that what you wanted to hear?”

Price halts his actions, eyes peering up at you with a playful smile on his face.

“You know what I want to hear” Price says, and as he says the words you feel heat creep up your neck ears and cheeks but nonetheless you say the words he’d been longing to hear.

“I love you Jo-“ you don’t get to say anymore than that before he’s slotting your lips together.

You can now taste the fruit juice on his lips can even get a whiff of the cigar he’d been smoking as you lose yourself in the kiss.

But it doesn’t last long before he’s pulling way.

“I love you too” he says with a flush on his face “so much”

The end.

Spitball w/ me?

[joocomics]

LOSER(S): part two

read part one here

pairing: youtuber!theo x fem!reader

genre: smut — mdni! wc: 4.4k

summary: the charming guy running the youtube channel you enjoy watching mostly because of him and not the games he’s playing, moves in the apartment across from yours, and turns out to be the biggest asshole you’ve encountered in years

contains: neighbours au, enemies to lovers trope, dom!reader, brat tamer!reader, banter, unprotected sex, dirty talk, masturbation, overstimulation (m!rec), oral sex (m/f), light humiliation kink (m!rec), face slapping (m!rec), name calling

Taeyang lost count of how many times he had to sit down to play the same game from the beginning in the last three hours.

He adjusts the camera on its usual angle, hits record, only to toss his headset across the desk ten minutes later, and just stare stupidly at the computer screen.

It’s been a week since you slept together and he hasn’t been able to get you out of his head. Not only does the fact you’re constantly on his mind torturing him, but also the images that come along with the thoughts of you.

Your hand wrapped around his neck. Your breath sticking to his mouth as you call him names, bad names, mean words that would infuriate him in every other situation, but not this one.

And the more days fly by, the more those images seem not enough for him anymore. He begins to expand on them with moments where you slap his face while you ride him. Or his cock - it probably hurts, but that’s the new thing that he’s been curious about what it would feel like from you.

He wants you to punish him for all the sleepless nights you had because of his games; for all those arguments you’ve had in the middle of the hallway; for all the times he slammed his door in your face.

Taeyang opens the little drawer of his desk and pulls out the panties you let him keep from that day. It won’t feel as exciting as the first time he used them, because they’re straight out from the laundry and they don’t hold your scent anymore, but it’s better than just his bare hand.

He feels stupid; really stupid. But the embarrassment fades down the moment he covers his semi hard on with the delicate lace you wore the afternoon he fucked you.

He’s never watched any videos where the man is submissive, or gets humiliated and commanded. He’s never had any interest in experiencing anything like that, until now. Until you.

His moans slip from his lips more and more desperate in the silence of his room. His eyes are squeezed shut while his mind visualises your naked body once again; your hands and mouth are everywhere on him all at once as you use him for your own personal pleasure.

“Fuck… p-please, please, please—“ Taeyang whispers in a rush over and over again, as if you are here forcing him to ask for permission to cum.

He breaks down in his chair as the rush from this new unfamiliar fantasy brings him to his peak. The pair of panties, now messy from his orgasm, are wrapped around his cock and he holds them there for a moment till he calms down.

He has to try to film next week’s video again, but all he can think about is what the fuck did you do to him.

It was just a hook up.

There’s nothing wrong in having some fun once in a while. What does it matter if it was with the youtuber Choi Taeyang who also happens to live next door? You had a nice time together, and it won’t happen again, because you can’t stand each other - even after having an amazing mind blowing sex. Especially after that…

Nothing has changed. In fact, everything remains the same, except that he for whatever reason decided to do some of the talking online.

“You’re talking shit about me in your new video!”

Taeyang remains silent for a few seconds, because at first he doesn’t remember doing such thing.

“Oh, I think you mean the video before the one I uploaded today… The one from today is the new one.”

“I don’t care.” You throw hands in the air. “Will you please explain where that’s coming from?”

Taeyang folds arms in front of his chest while skimming your body up and down in the most obvious way. You’re wearing a pair of comfy shorts and a graphic tee; so different than all the buttoned up shirts and fancy trousers he always sees you wearing for work. Judging by the look, it doesn’t seem like you’re planning on going out with anyone although it’s Friday night.

Not that he cares.

“I filmed that before we slept together.”

“Because that makes it better?”

Realising that this conversation isn’t going to end soon, Taeyang opens the front door fully and steps aside to let you in.

You try to avoid looking around too much, but you can’t deny that you’re curious about what the rest of his apartment looks like. It has a nice fresh scent that instantly adds to the welcoming atmosphere of his simple interior.

“I thought you’re familiar with my filming schedule.” Taeyang follows close behind you.

You are, but he doesn’t need to know that.

He moves your hair carefully to the side and you feel his lips trace your skin from your shoulder all the way to your neck. It’s such a small portion of skin, but it makes your whole body crave him.

“I don’t keep up with your channel anymore.” Your voice starts softening at the subtle contact of his tongue. It brings back the memories from last week, and your heart flutters at the thought of repeating it all.

You force your legs to take a few steps forward, and you leave him hanging. Wanting to make him work for it a little bit longer, you begin to explore the living room in the mean time.

“I wouldn’t have known about it if a friend of mine didn’t send me a clip of you ranting about the annoying neighbour that makes you want to jump from the window, because she made it her life mission to ruin your whole life.“ You glare at him for a moment before taking a seat on the middle of his couch. “It wasn’t hard for her to figure it out.”

Taeyang smirks, as his tall figure stands in front of you, blocking the view of the multiple posters at the wall.

“So you talk about me to your friend, I’m flattered.”

“Not nice things,” you cross one leg over the other, acting as if you’re oblivious to his gaze that’s focused on you, “so don’t be.”

The perky smile doesn’t leave his face when he squats down, locking eyes with yours. His hands swiftly separate your legs, and that simple act alone brings an insane amount of arousal into your body.

“You did made me want to jump from the window that day.” He comments, gliding his palms up and down your bare skin. “But I was also hoping you’d come back, and you did.”

His mouth now roams along your inner thigh through wet kisses, as he speaks, while his hand caresses the outer side of it.

“Do you know what’s the most annoying part of all of this?”

“Tell me,” you say, trying to keep your tone firm and relaxed despite the warm need that’s forming in the pit of your stomach.

You sense his right hand playing with the fabric of your shorts, sneaking under it to feel your panties. They make him impatient though, and after he grips on the waistband you quickly lift up just enough so he can pull them down.

“There isn’t a moment when I’m not turned on by you cussing at me. You’re so fuckin’ hot when you’re mad at me, doll.”

You feel the tension in the air getting thicker from his words that accompany his needy touch.

“You like being scolded, hm?” You rest your hand on top of his head, as you feel his tongue sneaking through his lips. The sudden wet contact provokes your legs to spread wider at the possibility to feel it closer to your heat.

Taeyang swipes his flat tongue along your cunt that’s hidden from your thin underwear. His palms press against your hips, as he buries his face further, humming as a response.

“Easy, Tae,” you chuckle.

The nickname surprises him, and he pulls back to find your eyes.

“I need you.” His voice softens as he speaks out the words.

You’ve never heard this tone from him before.

“I need you so bad, Y/N.”

“Do you promise not to talk shit about me ever again?”

You lift his chin even higher with your index finger while he stays on his knees for you.

“Promise.” He replies with a smirk which disappears so quickly from your thumb tugging on his lip that you almost miss it.

It’s surprising how easily he succumbs to your control. It almost feels like he’s playing with you, and you test him again with another question.

“Will you do as I say?”

Taeyang nods staring back with lust in his eyes.

“Words.”

“Yes, yes, beautiful…” He stops talking when you slide your fingers through his lips, and continues, after you gather some of his saliva. “I will.”

“I didn’t expect to see you so obedient, Tae.” You push your panties to the side and spread the moisture all over your clit, mixing it with the one that’s already been wetting your folds. “I like this version of you.”

“You got me this way, doll.” Taeyang follows the slow motions of your fingers, and his mouth waters at the sight. The memory of your sweet taste invades his senses. “Let me help you feel good.”

You guide your foot up and down his thigh, as you build your arousal in front of him.

“What can you do for me?” You ask, knowing that talking is the last thing he wants to do right now. You lead your leg to his crotch area where the contour of his erection calls for your attention. It starts twitching beneath the fabric of his sweats the second it feels the pressure of your foot.

“Anything you want, baby.. shit—“ His mouth stays open when you start stimulating him by rubbing his length. “Just tell me, please. Wanna taste you so fuckin’ bad.”

“Oh, baby, you’re leaking already,” you pout at the dark stain that appeared under your foot. Taeyang can only whine, as the place you keep rubbing in a rapid speed gets hotter from the pleasant friction. “You look like you really need to cum, pretty boy… too bad I prefer to cum first.”

Taeyang’s attention goes back and forth between your daring eyes, and your fingers gliding through your squelching entrance. He’s slowly becoming more and more submissive, and you can’t stop gushing over how hot he looks in this kind of desperate state.

“Wanna make you cum first, gorgeous…” Taeyang mutters, but his hips jerk up, needy to feel more of your touch. “Can I?”

“You can,” you reply, seeing his gaze lit up. “Go on, put that dirty mouth to good use for once.”

After moving your hand away, Taeyang leans in and attaches his tongue to your heat with the same force he did the first time. It makes you gasp, and hold the back of his head as the imensive pleasure flows through your body.

The difference is in the sounds that manage to escape from his mouth as his tongue devours your slickness - they’re not intense, grumpy groans, but vulnerable blissful ones, and you try to stay calm so you can hear more of them, but you can’t hold the emotions in for long.

“Oh, f-fuck, Tae—“ Your fingers tangle around the roots of his hair and tug from the way he digs even deeper into your cunt the moment you start to shake. Your arousal trickles down from your folds. “Oh, fuck, just like that…”

Provoked by your pretty moans, Taeyang pulls you down a bit, focusing the tip of his tongue on your clenching hole. He slurps eagerly from your leaking pleasure before licking a stripe all the way to your clit.

You don’t need to tell him to go faster. He can tell you’re close by your loud pants, and the way your face twitches, and your spine bends. Your toes curl in the air the moment he dives back in to suck on your sensitive bundle of nerves meanwhile his two long fingers slide inside you, rubbing your walls.

“S’ close—“ You choke on your whines, as your hand keeps him as close to your clit as possible.

The quick way his fingers work in and out of you in sync with his lapping tongue bring your orgasm just a second later, and Taeyang tries his best to keep your body steady on the couch with one hand as you squirm from the sensations.

His own hitched sounds get lost from your overwhelmed voice that echoes throughout the room in a high pitched tone. You stopped caring about who might hear you through the thin walls a long time ago.

You realise amused that Taeyang still gathers from your juices by open mouthed kisses even after you come back to your senses.

“That’s enough, you had your fun.” You take his jaw and squish his flushed cheeks, observing his swollen lips and sharp chin that’s messy from your arousal. As much as all that turns you on nothing can compare to the dazed look in his eyes - like he’s ready to take anything you give him.

“There isn’t a moment when I’m not turned on by you cussing at me.” His words from earlier echo into your mind. “You’re so fuckin’ hot when you’re mad at me…”

“You’re so pathetically horny, I don’t even have to ask if you’ve been using my underwear to get off.” You slightly raise your brow, then grunt at the shameless smile that creeps up on his lips. It earns a light slap on the cheek. “Such a loser.”

At this point Taeyang is one hundred percent sure he’s leaking through his boxers. He’s so turned on that he’s grateful for every small friction he gets from the cotton fabric that’s repressing his cock.

“Filled them with my cum three times.” He adds through his puffy lips that still glisten with your essence.

You try to cover up your half-smile caused by his cheeky attitude through a huff. You slap him again, but harder, and he presses his tongue against the inner side of his cheek.

“You liked it, didn’t you, perv?”

“I fuckin’ loved it.” He responds, successfully maintaining eye contact. You can feel the heat coming from his stare and it makes you feel dizzy, like you just took five shots at once.

The smacking sound fills the room again, and Taeyang’s head tilts slightly to one side. His bottom lip is tucked between his teeth; his skin runs hot.

“Three slaps for the three times you used my panties like a desperate whore.”

You lean back comfortably on the back of the couch, trying to ignore the way your heart races from what just happened, but also at the image of him masturbating with your lingerie.

You tell him to strip, and he quickly gets rid of his clothes, leaving them crumpled up on the floor. After his slim figure hovers over you again, his big cock enters your vision. You lean forward and run your fingertip along its length, feeling its warm skin and every vein.

The instant twitching when you reach his tip that’s oozing deliciously with transparent essence, makes you bite your lip playfully. You give it a light feathery touch, and suddenly the only thing on your mind is to make Taeyang break down from pleasure. To milk him dry.

“Sit down.” You command, switching places with him. “No touching from now on, got it?”

“Got it.” Taeyang responds, and you notice his one hand going towards his balls, as you kneel between his legs.

You grab his wrists roughly, forcing his eyes to shoot back at you.

“You’re not allowed to touch me or yourself.”

You release his arms, hearing a sigh of disappointment. For a moment he doesn’t know where to put his hands and the awkward way he finally drops them on top of his thighs makes you laugh.

“Not used to being a submissive boy, huh?” You tap his leaky tip at the centre, and Taeyang’s tummy clenches from the sensitivity.

The ringing sound of you mocking him makes his heart flutter which doesn’t help the burning in his core cool down.

He stays silent, but judging from his dark gaze that’s solely focused on your hand hovering over his desperate erection, makes you feel like you’re both thinking about the same thing, so you do it - you give his cock a light smack.

“Fuckk—“ He sucks in a sharp breath. He bites on his lower lip with force, throwing his head back while the shocking thrill fades down. “No… I’m not.” He admits noticing you getting closer to his shaft.

He wants to snap at you to take it, but another part of him wants to indulge in this new game that you introduced to him; a game where he waits and receives whatever you decide to give him.

“You’ll learn. You need some taming, Choi Taeyang.” You give him one last glance, then release a thick string of spit on his cock before taking it in your hand.

You forgot how heavy he feels and your thighs already start rubbing against one another. You stroke it up and down slowly, appreciating the way it looks under the control of your fist.

“Such a big nice cock for someone who doesn’t know how to behave properly, tsk…” The speed of your hand quickens, and Taeyang’s chest starts to rise rapidly, his fingers form two strong fists. “What a waste,” you spit out bluntly, smearing the precum even faster.

You have to admit, you enjoy this dominant role more than you expected.

“Ahh, s-shit…” Taeyang’s built up desperation becomes even more apparent now as his tone gets mellow from the stimulation. The rush inside his tummy grows bigger with every next twist, and every new remark you decide to throw at him.

In the middle of his moans he turns quiet; too baffled from the sudden wrapping of your lips around him to say or do anything. His jaw drops as he finally gets to experience what your tongue feels like glued to his dick.

“Y/N—“ he sighs, running fingers through his hair. His tongue swipes his lips at the arousing sight of your head bobbing up and down his length; your small fist helping out by twirling around what you can’t fit inside your mouth.

Not that you can’t fit the rest of him. You can, with a little bit of effort and inevitable choking. You just don’t want to yet. He’s fully aware of that.

Taeyang’s instant reflex is to hold your head, but he stops himself on time, and his palms return to rest on both sides of his body, meanwhile, you keep humming around his throbbing erection. The amount of saliva dripping from your lips coated all of him nicely, making your hand drag along even more smoothly as you aim for his climax.

The warm void of your mouth feels so unbelievably good he starts to feel woozy, losing his entire trail of thoughts.

You gasp for air once you finally peel off. A string of drool connects you to his angry red tip before you break it off by furiously pumping his cock.

“Come on,” you encourage him, as you don’t stop jerking him off close to your charming face, “cum like the desperate boy you are, Tae…”

And like that, hypnotised by your voice and the way you use that nickname, Taeyang lets it all out. The thick ropes of cum shoot all over his stomach while his heavy eyes stay shut, and his balls clench overwhelmingly.

You bite on your lip, patiently baring your own heat between your legs as you watch him cum all over himself. Your eyes trace all the way up to the veins on his neck, and his parted lips that drop heavy pants.

Taeyang tugs on his own hair finally turning his attention back to you. He seems high, and his heavy gaze follows lazily the way you stick out your tongue to taste him, after his poor cock hits his tummy, all flushed and smeared with sticky liquid.

“Mmm, you taste nice.” You mewl, passing your flat tongue over his stomach to collect the thick essence, taking it down your throat. “I could’ve let you cum in my mouth, but I don’t think you deserve that yet.” You leave a few wet kisses around his bellybutton before sucking lightly. Taeyang humms, and glances down only to see that you’ve licked all of his seed to the last drop.

“Hope I can earn that privilege.” Taeyang’s deep voice makes your heart swell with how raspy it suddenly sounds.

You bring your hands up his chest, teasing his left nipple with your manicured fingers.

“Give me one more and maybe you will earn it sooner than you think.”

When he sees his softening cock going in your hand again, a shocking thrill shoots through his core, and it makes him wince in his seat. His muscles tense all over again at what’s possibly coming.

“Shhh, it’s not that bad,” you burst laughing at his widening eyes. He noticed his own words coming out of your lips. “I know you still have more to give me…”

Every time you smile amused at his dick he gets butterflies in his tummy like a teenager falling in love; for a moment he didn’t even grasp what you’re asking of him.

“Fuck, wait—“

But it’s too late. You’re already getting back to twirling your fist, eager to feel it hardening in your palm.

Taeyang leans his arms over the back of the couch, giving you a nice view of his throat that keeps gulping after he tilts his head back.

You stay kneeling between his feet, gliding your fist in a merciless pace. You want to make him cum again, and you want to do it as soon as possible. The wet noise mixes with his hitched breathing, he’s not even making sounds anymore; the new rush that’s building up from his sensitivity doesn’t allow him to do anything else except try to control his heavy breaths.

“Oh my god,” Taeyang lifts one arm and takes his fist to his mouth. He can feel the familiar sensation inside him bubbling up, fast and intense. “Fuck, gonna cum again-“ His voice cracks just as his thighs start to tremble around you. “Please, take it in your mouth, p-please, Y/N, shit—“

Your fingers keep up the pressure around his thickness and a moment later they’re dripping with mess again.

“Oops, I forgot.” Your bottom lip puckers out in a fake pout, as you still hold his member trapped in your fist. It’s so pathetically red and swollen. You blow on it once, and Taeyang squirms before finally facing you. “You came too quickly, pretty boy. You left me no time to put it in my mouth.”

His raspy low voice mumbles something in the lines of you’re doing it too good, and you tell him that he’s just too weak.

You don’t give him much time to regain control over his breathing, and your lips stretch out to take him deep into your mouth.

The fact he’s lost in the warmth of your small mouth again has Taeyang’s mind turning blank. He’s sensitive in general, and when you begin to move all the way down to his abdomen after he just came for the second time, completely makes him crumble.

For the first time you hear him whimper; yearn.

It’s obvious he’s trying his best to maintain his calmness, but at this point it’s impossible. Everything becomes too much for him - your tongue twirling around his cock head, the sucking and lewd slurping as you keep up the insane rapid speed that has the living room spinning in front of him. The bumping against your throat. The gagging. The vibrations from your choking, because he’s too big for your mouth, but you keep pushing yourself on him anyway.

You breathe through your nose a few more seconds, as you keep his tortured tip inside your throat. A tear escapes the corner of your eye. When you empty your mouth, inhaling deeply, you notice that Taeyang’s cheeks have falling tears too.

Your tongue glides on the side of his hard slick length as you prepare to stuff your mouth again, but you want to enjoy the captivating sight of his face coloured by pinkish tones, and half lidded eyes gleaming with tears, a little longer.

Despite feeling on cloud nine, Taeyang gives you a lazy smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

“What is it?” He looks down at your figure with anticipation.

You shrug shoulders, then tilt your head slightly.

“I’m just surprised to see you like this.”

You don’t realise how his features hypnotise you; how they get you to forget about the role you’re playing, until you feel his hand around your neck. The movement, not rough at all, lifts your chin while he leans down parting your lips with his own.

The open mouthed kiss steals your breath; it fulfills all the cravings you had since you got here, but it grows new ones too.

You stand up and Taeyang swiftly settles you on his lap. The feeling of him filling you up in that moment is a delightful relief you’ve never felt before. You uphold yourself with hands on the back of the sofa while his mouth finds support in the crook of your neck.

“Ah, Tae…” You mewl at the way he pleases you in all the ways you possibly need. “Fuck, I love it…”

Taeyang holds his breath for a second, as you start to quicken the bounces. His hands scrunch up your shirt around your waist while the way your slippery cunt swallows him so perfectly has him thinking of cumming as soon as possible. But he can endure it; despite the burning overstimulation that makes his heart race, and his whimpers stuck at the back of his throat.

He has to.

“Cum again, doll, I’ll wait…” He bites the spot under your ear while his husky voice, coming out so uneven and shaky, sends you shivers. “I promise.”

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise in advance for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Hi there,

Saw your post about Cajun/cowboy Alastor and OMG! I don’t have many ideas other then maybe he plays poker for souls or something like that and maybe a reader comes into town and is just as good at poker as he is. And he cannot seem to win, leading him to become mildly obsessed over winning their soul.

Thats all I have as I don’t know much about cajun/cowboy stuff.

I’ll let you know if I have any other ideas!

Thank you!

Alastor - [ ACE OF HEARTS ]

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A/N: Omg, I love your take on cowboy Al! It got me thinking about it for days. I have never played poker, so I had to watch multiple YouTube videos to understand the game while writing this. Hopefully, it came out accurate enough! Also, this is a very, VERY traumatic/smut-heavy fic I'm working on, so please be aware and know I don't endorse anything I write.

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ MATURE THEMES ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ GUN PLAY… ] + [ SLIGHT DUB CON….eventually.] + [ SLIGHT/IMPLIED AGE GAP ] + [ MENTIONS OF GORE/BLOOD/CANNABILISM ] + [ KIDNAPPING…sort of?.. ] + [ PARENTAL PHYSICAL AB*SE…eventually..] + [ ANGST/TRUAMA…]

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**Cowboy Alastor** is known for his record of killing, is a skilled bounty hunter, and is far from a decently moral one. Everyone assumes his motives, guessing who his next target is and if he’ll ever feel guilt for what he does to them.

He doesn't.

What kind of demon would he be if he did…

Besides, the people he kills owe him in one way or another, all in debt to the red demon by their stupidity and lust for life, so he feels nothing for them when the time comes for the price of their deals to be paid.

Alastor arrives for them in the dead of dry nights, taking their last breath with a single bullet to the head or a clean cut across the throat. Their pleas do little to affect his decision.

“A deal is a deal…”

He reminds them that escaping a bloody end is impossible, already solidified by their selfish desires, and no amount of begging will change his mind. They curse his name, glaring at the grin on his face as he draws nearer with deathly intent in his eyes, and it only grows as he derives pleasure from their refusal to cooperate.

The riches, the riding, and the roughness he endures daily are nothing compared to the satisfaction he gets from killing. Others may deal in chasing oil, farming land, and cattle, but he stakes his fulfillment in the business of blood.

**Cowboy Alastor** dabbles in gambling when he's not off-striking deals with lowly souls or wreaking havoc on those he deems deserving.

Every city south of New Orleans with a bar or saloon welcomes his visits and not by choice.

Those who don't meet his standards or demands of hospitality drop from the face of the earth at his will, burning to a crisp full of the dead occupants who so lightly offended him, and never to be rebuilt out of fear he'd return to demolish it again.

He surely would, but no one has yet to test the theory in fear of a painful death by his hands.

Alastor leisurely travels the expanse of Louisiana's countryside, partial to riding wherever the wind blows, but he’ll always return to the rumbling city of New Orleans.

Whether for personal reasons or because his beloved mother wished to see him, it becomes second nature for the deer demon to reside there randomly. It was his hometown, after all, and he preferred the taste of whiskey from a familiar place over foreign alcohol in far-off dusty taverns he'd never visit again.

The saloon he fancies sits opposite the central townhouse, a tall building at the end of a main street that never seemed to rest.

Lafitte’s Blacksmith Bar

Summer nights brought out and drew in more people, filling the bar with patrons who knew of his deeds and those who’d only heard scarring stories about him through the ladder. The knowledge of a red reaper roaming the towns of Louisiana varied, but their fearful respect of him was abundant the moment Alastor stepped foot into the bustling bar.

He was there, in good spirits for the most part, but still an impossible threat they couldn't brush off.

**Cowboy Alastor** greets the silent patrons with a sly grin, tipping his hat to the fear-stricken owner who eyed him from behind the packed bar.

“Don't let me interrupt the fun, Cher. I'm not here to cause you trouble… that's if you're kind enough to indulge me.”Alastor chuckles, not waiting for a proper response from anyone as he stalks over to his usual spot in the smokey parlor.

A group of cattlemen stiffen in their seats as he walks by, all grabbing their drinks as swiftly as possible before leaping up from their table to avoid him, and their skittish actions cause Alastor to laugh as he settles into a particular backroom booth.

It was customary for people to keep their distance from him, some deterred by his striking appearance while others simply didn't want to risk involvement with a known killer. He saw nothing wrong with their aversion, glad that his reputation proceeded him, but there were those single few who saw him as a challenge rather than a threat.

Poor fools…

Mortal or not, he ran into them regularly, welcoming their duels like a bored child getting a new toy to destroy, and though he knew they'd fail to win against him, he'd never turn down a good game.

Ever…

**Cowboy Alastor** lets the saloon wind into chaos again, humming along to the melody of music and rowdy singing while getting comfortable in his secluded spot.

His hat rests low on his head, shielding most of his red gaze from those who look his way, only leaving the view of his Cheshire smile and effectively signaling his oddly calm demeanor. Alastor slipped his riding jacket off, tossing the tailored burgundy clothing across the back of the booth, his leather and suede black gloves following suit.

“What a day it's been…” he mumbled while flexing his long fingers, relaxing his posture while leaning back and rolling his neck until a soft ‘pop’ was heard.

Consequently, the tension tangled in his limber body from riding all day unraveled. Alastor sucked his teeth at the feeling, licking his lips as a satisfied groan left them, and just as he sat forward again, the owner hurried to his table with a bottle of alcohol and a tray of cigars.

“Your usual, Al,” he split out, setting the items in front of him with shakey hands, and Alastor clicks his tongue at the nervous tick. He'd come to this bar for years, and the old man still trembled in his boots around him. The poor fool wouldn't dare admit his fear either, rushing off as soon as he reached for the bottle, and though some might consider his retreat rude, Alastor found it amusing.

Flattering, even.

**Cowboy Alastor** drinks slowly, letting the whiskey burn his tongue and drowning the malt taste with languid drags from a cigar.

Eyes scan over him, women whisper about him lustfully under the rowdy music, and the men keep their senses about them with happy trigger fingers.

Because as they say: “Red Reaper, Red Reaper. The devil's solemn deal keeper. Beware him & the hell he seeks…”

Alastor imposes his intensity, grinning at those who stare too long, watching the women who drink him in with an equally sultry stare, and daring the men to throw a bullet his way with a knowing smirk. He invites trouble, waiting for it like a preying snake in tall, dry grass, but after some time, he assumes no one in the saloon will accept his invitation.

That is until you step in, looking lost among the worldly thrills of a bar but unafraid to venture further into it with an air of certainty surrounding you.

**Cowboy Alastor** makes no move to approach you, laid back as ever, as he observes the gentle way you speak to men who drunkenly approach you. They make offers to dance, almost crowding your more diminutive form as you trail to the bar.

“Sorry, boys, but I'm here on business, not pleasure. Now, run along..” you wave them away playfully, purposely flirtatious but avidly stern.

He expects them to continue bugging you; you're a doll, after all, prettier than most women he's seen. However, the men retreat politely, leaving you be as the owner approaches your side, and you immediately turn to hug him despite his apparent concerned expression.

Alastor observes the exchange closely, reading your lips perfectly while sipping at his drink, and it's all too easy for him to assess the situation.

The daughter of a businessman returns home after finishing school in the north, wanting to visit him at work as a pleasant surprise, but he's far from happy about a young lady like yourself being out late at night in a place like this.

You're too mannered to be seen around the patrons, it's dangerous for you to ride alone in the evening, and your father isn't pleased you intend to stay out to celebrate your school completion.

He tells you it's best to go home, that he'll come with you, but you insist on staying and remind him, “I'm not your little girl anymore, Daddy!..” The older man can't seem to rein you in, having to drop the lecture as a small brawl breaks out in the corner of the saloon, which draws his attention immediately, and this leaves you to wander the scene freely.

A perfect time for Alastor to reel you in close and personal…

**Cowboy Alastor** whistles when you walk past his area, catching your attention with a short, soulful melody, and you quickly notice him in the dim back room.

“Hi there, lil’ lady. Searchin' for somethin'?” He inquires playfully, tone bordering sensual, and his grin slipping into a closed smile as your gaze settles on him.

You’re curious, not scared of him like most are, and the moment he speaks to you, questions race through your head.

Who is he?

How have you never seen him here before?

Why, in God's name, is he sitting away from the masses?

Is he a rider, a hunter, or maybe a convict?

It was hard to tell from a distance, so without a second thought, you flashed him a gentle smile, gradually approaching where he sat, “Hello, and who might you be, sir?” You chirp a greeting, resisting the urge to bite your lip as he stares into your wandering gaze.

Alastor assumed you’d been away from the South too long to realize who he was, that your father's earlier warning didn’t sprout from overprotectiveness but rather fear of his presence.

You didn’t see him as a threat, nor a danger, but a new face in an old town.

He chuckles, putting out his cigar after taking a particularly long drag from it, blowing smoke past his lips with a coy hum. You blink as the convoluted air fans your face, unbothered by it and itching for a taste of tobacco yourself. It’d been a few years since you’d let loose, not allowed to frequent bars or act unladylike in the limelight of northern modesty.

“A loyal patron, but it’s been some time since I’ve paid this place a visit.” He answers you politely, an odd trait that most men only reserved for themselves but refreshing to experience.

“Oh, well, that’s nice to hear, but your name is what I would like to know.”

A tender smirk stretches your lips, a red hue dusting your cheeks as he tips his hate apologetically before uttering a response, “Alastor Hartifelt. A pleasure to meet you, Miss…” he pauses, quirking a brow at you expectantly, and you take a moment to analyze him further.

You've heard your father utter his name many times before your departure to the north. He'd described him brutally, having less than pleasant things to say about bounty hunters in general but especially about the man in front of you now. You'd heard people talk of his deeds, deals, and evil.

He was dubbed the ‘Red Reaper’ for a good reason, lurking around in the bitter nights and drawing blood from one poor soul or another in his travels.

Supposedly, he was a terrifying monster, but you'd always found beauty in the demented. It was one of the reasons your father had sent you away, but fortunately, the influence of the posh upper class did nothing to change your consciousness.

Besides, the rumors had failed to mention how attractive the red reaper was, let alone dashing. He seemed nice enough hadn't flashed his weapon, threatened, or catcalled you disrespectfully.

So, you found no harm in telling him your name, “Y/n L/n. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Hartifelt.” You blink slowly, drowning in his red eyes, unconsciously swaying where you stood, back to a wall that hid your presence near him from your father's eyes and the curious stares of others.

Alastor glanced at the space beside him, silently asking that you join him, but unlike most women, he rarely took an interest in, you didn't move until he asked you outright.

“Would you care to join me for a drink, Miss L/n? I'd like to have your company for a while..”

He doesn't speak any louder than needed, using every bit of charm he has to lure you in, and you let him believe he's succeeded with a sensual laugh and purring laugh.

“Why, I thought you'd never ask..”

**Cowboy Alastor** asks a lot of questions. Subtly gathering information about you that he has no use for.

You give him answers; some are lies, others are indiscriminate truths, but you can't bring yourself to be completely honest with a stranger known for his cunning. He keeps your glass full, pacing the liquor with you, reveling in your gentle laughter after every sip, and softening faster and faster the longer you conversed.

You kept your wits about you as best as possible, inviting his fleeting touches but never going further than whispering in his ear or tapping a finger under his sharp chin when he'd stare too long.

Alastor didn't mind your soft hands on him, nor your lingering gaze and confident provocations. He absentmindedly returned the gestures just as boldly.

Your fifth glass of whiskey was running low, and without a hint of hesitation, he refilled it alongside his own. You watched as the amber liquid filled each glass, utterly relaxed as he spoke to you tenderly, “You say your father sent you far up north. May I ask why?…”

He peers at you, sliding the transparent glass into your waiting hand, and you chuckle wryly while taking a sip. “Daddy says it was for my good. You see, my mother is a stickler about manners, and I didn't have much of any growing up. Ironic, seeing as I was raised well enough.” you paused, frowning at the memory of your strict but loving mother.

She was lovely to look at and kind most of the time, but her ambitions for you outweighed her patience. Alastor noted the haunting sadness in your eyes but said nothing as you continued, looking out into the crowd of patrons fussing about as you did.

“My mother died a few years back, leaving daddy to handle me, and when he realized he couldn't manage the business and a daughter, he sent me away. Couldn't blame him either; I was getting into trouble left and right and had some bad habits on the rise, too.”

His ears perked at the words ‘bad habits’ leaving your lips, naturally drawn to knowing a mortal's darkest secrets, so he pressed for clarification.

“Bad habits, you say? I couldn't imagine a sweet thing like you havin’ such things.”

You scoffed, glad your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol buzz to mask the blush his comment invoked, “Well…I did. Still do if I'm honest.” you admit in a hushed tone, knocking back the last of your drink before glancing his way.

“It's hard to resist doing things you're good at.”

Alastor leaned back into the seat, drink in one hand, the other fixing his hat so it sat back on his head. The adjustment gave you a peek at his fluffy red hair and the distinctive blood-marked x on his forehead. You thought to ask what the mark meant but saved the question for later, as he agreed with your statement.

“Very true, ma chere. Although I'm one for killin’, your passion may not be so grizzly and easier to alleviate.”

“My father thinks gambling is just as bad as killing. It doesn't matter if he's addicted to it himself or not. If I do it…I'm the devil's daughter in his eyes..” You roll your eyes, an action that jolts a nerve Alastor hasn't felt in years and subconsciously doesn't ignore.

“Gambling? That's your unproper poison?” he narrows his gaze as you nod lazily, a few ringlets of your hair falling from its pinned-up style as you do, resting on the skin of your shoulders and neck.

Soft.

Your locks look soft and silky to the touch, tempting him to run his fingers through it, across your skin, and, god forbid, under your dress.

A heavy breath settled in his chest at the possibility, a familiar rush coursing through him as you moved your lips to speak, “Yes. I see a stack of playin’ cards, and I just can't help myself. I got rather good at playing too but when you beat everyone in town at it people start to be less kind about your reputation.”

You laugh, attempting to make a light-hearted joke but ultimately grimacing at the mention of lousy sportsmanship from others. You couldn't help winning a challenge in poker, and many saw the talent as disgraceful, which prompted I'll rumor about you.

“That's a shame, sugar. Everyone deserves a chance to play a good game of their choosing.” he feigns concern, meeting your curious eyes as you shift to face him, “Everyone except me if my father has anything to say about it. Still, I suppose it's best I let it go…” you sigh, grabbing the bottle of whiskey to pour another shot.

Suddenly, you freeze, feeling his body heat invade your space. Alastor tilts his head down close to yours, breathing in your scent discretely before pressing his lips to the lobe of your ear as he mutters into it, “Why don't you play a game with me, chere? One lil’ round for fun… right under your daddy's nose, hm?”

The burn of excitement seizes your body, a shakey breath leaving your lips as his voice settles in your mind, inviting you to indulge his offer. That same heat pooled in your core with every second he spent in your space, inhaling the scent of bourbon and sweet sugar cane grass he rode through radiating off him, words just as inviting and addictive.

For a horrifying, well-feared killer, he sure did entice a woman like any natural-born gentleman…

It was a deathly combination you knew he often used, killing or not, and though it'd be wise to avoid his idea, you didn't want to risk missing an opportunity for the thrill.

It'd been so long, too long, and what's the worst that could happen?

Losing to him?

You'd never lost to anyone before, and you were confident that fact wouldn't change -even going up against the Red Reaper himself.

**Cowboy Alastor** relishes when you utter a ‘yes’ to his offer. His grin widens menacingly for a split second as he sets his glass down next to your empty one, conjuring up a meticulously detailed deck of playing cards and placing them on the table.

“You can choose which game we play, sugar…”

Alastor shifts away from you, letting you regain your composure and watching as your delicate fingers reach for the top card of the deck.

“Poker. A favorite of mine..” You didn't think twice before answering him, admiring the red and black ace in your hand, wondering where he acquired such personalized playing cards.

“Poker it is then, chere,” he smirks wickedly, removing his hat entirely to set it on the table before gingerly plucking the card from your hold and sliding to sit opposite you while dishing out equal amounts of cards between you.

Your eyes light up under the oil lamp's golden hue, studying the flick of his hands as he worked, trying hard not to wander up to his piercing gaze. Afraid he'd immediately see your attraction to his nimble hands, well to him in general, and use it against you somehow, so your focus remains on the hand dealt and not him.

As you both plucked your respective set from the table, studying the cards intently, you asked the singular most crucial question every poker match was built on.

“What will the bets be,” Your innocent inquiry earns sultry laughter from him, filling the air, raising feverish chills on your skin as he stares at you through half-lidded eyes.

“I prefer bargains of the soul, my dear. The use and price of one's existence is always more valuable than money, don't you agree?”

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxx

A/N: Don't be mad AT ME, GUYS, PLEASE. I HAD EXAMS LAST WEEK. I'm SORRY FOR DROPPING OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH… sort of, but I'm back now (please do hate me :((( ). Uh, so I might merge “Down in the Dust” with this because both stories kinda originated in my brain at the same time. However, since this is a request, I wrote a two-part tangent smut as a sort of prequel to the other fic! Also, the phrase “Save a horse. Ride a cowboy” will be unironically used…I'm sorry (I'm not lol) ❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ] VOLUME WARNING!!! 🗣️

Fun fact: In the South, we have a rule that if you take a cowboy hat and end up wearing it, they catch you with it (preferably in the mutual interest of getting to know each other). That cowboy gets to fuck you (hopefully, but technically you're initiating a flirting game wearing their hat, lol). It's a cute concept and one any Cowboy Alastor enthusiast should think about. ❤️ credits to the creator.

[inbloomwriting]

If I had you II Jamie Tartt

Plot: Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. Reader thinks it's the easiest thing in the world. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Swearing, mentions of food and alcohol. Notes: This is inspired by the song "a daydream away". It's 5.2k words of pure friends-to-lovers sweetness.  Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. It’s a chore to love him, the real him not the overly confident golden boy he portrays on the pitch. Just look at his track record, that just proves his point. Sure his mom loves him, he never questioned that, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy for her. He’s convinced he’s made her cry more than once with yet another stupid decision. Then there’s his father who loves nothing more than to belittle him and lay out all his flaws for him and the world to see. And if even your own dad doesn’t love you, how can you expect others to. 

So maybe that’s the reason he doesn’t let anyone close enough to even begin to love him. Sooner or later they’ll figure out how much of an effort it takes and that he, of all people, truly isn’t worth it. 

And maybe, perhaps, that’s also the reason he doesn’t allow himself to explore the feelings he harbors for his best friend. He tried to deny them to himself for so long. Tried to pass it off as pure, unfiltered friendship. That’s bullshit though. He knows the feelings are there and there is no use in denying them. That doesn’t mean he can ever allow himself to act on them though. He’d just fuck it all up, the way he usually does with everything he touches. 

The shiny hardwood floor feels cold and smooth as he sits leaning against the kitchen counter, legs stretched out before him. A smile is permanently etched onto his face as (Y/N) talks about something that happened at her work today. He should listen, it’s probably a fun story judging by the way her giggles make her stop talking every few seconds. He should listen but he is so enamored with her that he can not pay attention to anything else. In a perfect world, in a world where loving him was easy, he’d lean over and kiss her. He'd kiss her silly and she’d kiss him back and life would be sweet and it would make sense. In that perfect world, she would love him back the same way he loves her and it would be easy and he’d deserve her. 

But that is not the world he’s living in. That is not his reality. Just a beautiful daydream he allows himself to escape to every once in a while. Loving her in a daydream is safe. It’s secret and quiet and there is no hurt there and no rejection. 

“Why are you grinning like that, huh Tartt?” 

She asks before taking a sip from the beer bottle clasped tightly in her hands. It’s an unusually hot summer’s day. One that makes it impossible to do anything but sit on the floor in as little clothing as possible and drink one cold drink after the other. Even if that means getting a little tipsy on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Nothing. Just happy to have you here. Missed you.”

“We didn’t see each other for a week and you already missed me?”

He misses her the minute she leaves. It’s like his heart isn’t complete if she isn’t there but he can’t really say that can he? Friends don’t tell friends things like that. And a friend is all she is. His best one but still. Telling her any of this could jeopardize their friendship and Jamie doesn’t think he could handle life without her. Not when a week already felt like torture. 

“Well yeah, I’m proper shit at cooking. I need you to feed me.” 

“Oh, is that so? Thought Mr. Bigshot footballer could get free food at any restaurant he fancies.”

She’s teasing but never mean and never hurtful. That’s something he cherishes so much about their friendship. His feelings, his fears — all of it is safe with her. There is no hurt or pain or fear. Just her and her friendship and warmth. And a pair of open arms ready to catch him whenever he stumbles and falls.

“True. But some fancy place in Mayfair will laugh at me if I ask them to make me dino nuggets, won’t they?”

Her laughter, he decides then, is his favorite sound in the world. It makes everything feel alright even if it’s just for a fleeting moment. He needs to keep his feelings locked up in that beautiful daydream because he can never lose this melody her laughter creates. And anyway, he wouldn’t even know what to do if he ever really had her.

— It’s not like she’d say yes anyway.

“You’re probably right about that,” she says and leans her head against his shoulder. And though it’s muggy and hot and he’s sure he can feel their skin stick together, he doesn’t shake her off. She’s part of his heart already, might as well melt into one completely. “You want me to make you some nuggets?” 

“Nah,” Jamie replies and places a soft kiss on the top of her head. Friends kiss friends on the head all the time, everyone knows that. Right? "That's okay. Already had a Kebab with Roy earlier.” 

“You guys are becoming friends then? Should I be worried I’m gonna lose my best friend status?” 

Jamie lets out some mix between a chuckle and a scoff. As if anyone in all the world could ever replace her. What a ridiculous thought. 

“Well he doesn’t make me nuggets, does he? No alphabet soup either. So no. Not yet.” 

The little shake of her fist she does in victory makes him grin even bigger. He must look like a damn fool. 

“I should probably get going sometime soon, I need to finish up some work and do laundry and do all that boring adult stuff that’s waiting for me at home.” 

There are lots of things he should be doing instead of sitting on his kitchen floor on a Tuesday afternoon getting half drunk on cheap beer and half on his overwhelming love for her. He’s sure there are a bunch of texts and emails waiting for him to sort through. Keeley might be popping a blood vessel soon if he doesn’t answer her about that brand requesting to work with him on some ad campaign. And he will get back to her — soon. 

Right now it doesn’t matter. Right now all that matters is him and (Y/N) and their little corner of safety and — home.

“But I don’t want to.” 

“Yeah, me neither. Just want to sit here with you and — “ 

“ — hang out?” 

“Mh. Hang out.” 

That was not what he wanted to say but none of the words ghosting through his head are meant to be spoken out loud. They are his to feel and think and keep hidden and quiet. 

“Good, we can hang out a little longer I think.” 

And he’ll take what he can get. All the precious minutes she grants him he cherishes. 

Right now could last forever and he wouldn’t mind at all.

Not as long as he’s with her.

Some early 00s pop song is blasting from the speakers of the bar. Everyone’s in good spirits and drinks are flowing freely. 

(Y/N) is leaning against the bar talking to Colin, laughing about something he said, radiating joy and happiness. 

She loves his friends, his boys, his family. Jamie loves that she loves them so dearly, so fiercely as if they are her own family. At this point, they might as well be. She remembers all their birthdays, drops by unannounced with cookies for everybody, cheers them on louder than anybody else. Hell, she even gets Roy to smile and that’s quite something. She’s as much a part of the AFC Richmond family as she is a part of his life. 

“Jamie-Jam-Jam what are you sulking over here for,” her voice cuts through the crowd and the music as she slides into the booth next to him. She looks gorgeous in the hazy neon lights. Then again, she always looks gorgeous. 

“Not sulking. Just — thinking.” 

“About what?”

You. He’d say if he was honest and not such a coward. You and how much I adore you and how hard it is not to tell you any of this and fuck up our friendship. 

“Was considering getting me nipples pierced. I’d have to take them out though and I imagine that would be quite annoying.” 

“Probably,” she agrees and nods her head before adding “It would look sick though.” 

“Right? I reckon it would.” 

She laughs at that and once again it shakes his entire world. Like little earthquakes inside his heart. 

Her voice is quieter after her laughter subsides, soft and gentle, and with the loud music it feels like her words are only meant for him. “I like this,” she says almost wistfully.

“The song? Who’s that, Rihanna?” 

“Not the song, silly boy. This — “ she gestures around the room towards all their friends, dancing and laughing and having the time of their lives. And then she motions to the two of them, secluded and safe inside their own little bubble. “escaping our busy lives for a moment.” 

“Lot of journalists would disagree with you there, love. That my life was busy.” 

“They don’t know you like I know you.” 

There’s a sincerity in her eyes, a warmth, something he can’t quite explain. It’s familiar and foreign all at once. 

“No one knows me like you do. You had pity on Jamie Tartt, messy little prick from math class. They just know Jamie Tartt, the footballer from Richmond.Still a prick but now with better hair.” 

Before he knows what’s happening, her hands take hold of his face and gently rest against his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. Really look at her.

“I never had pity on you, Jamie. I thought you were funny and exciting and infinitely cool. That’s why I wanted to be your friend. And I was right! About the funny part, not the cool part.” 

“Obviously.” 

“But I never took pity on you. I don’t think you realize how highly I think of you. Now let me get a sip of that drink.” 

He’s still in some sort of haze brought on by her words when a groan coming from her shakes him from his thoughts. Her face is all scrunched up in disgust as she places his glass back on the table. “Ew, what the fuck is that?” 

“I’m not sure, honestly. Barkeeper said she’d mix me a Jamie Tartt and I was like fuck yeah, a drink named after me.”

“It’s disgusting. Did you shag and dump her at some point? Like, is she mad at you for some reason?” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that woman before in my life … so yeah maybe.” 

Shaking her head with a smirk on her face she grabs a hold of his hand and pulls him out of the booth and towards the bar on the other side of the place, the one with the older male bartender with the impressive beard.

“You ever had a thing with him?” she asks as she leans against the counter, trying to get the man’s attention.

“Nah, I’d remember that facial hair.” 

From then on the night tastes like tequila and beer and it feels like a warm hug. She doesn’t join in on all his drinks, stops herself after a beer and a shot, but she does join him in all the other shenanigans. Like when they make up ridiculous backstories for strangers and have a laugh about some corporate douchebag trying desperately to get with some woman who clearly has no interest in him. 

“Henry from accounting.”

“Nah, that’s Charlie from HR.” 

“Well, either way, Maisie from South Shields is not interested.” 

He could stay here forever, laugh the night away. Drunk on happiness, on love — and also on quite a lot of booze. 

“Come on, Jamie-Jam, “ she says and hands him his jacket. She’s all gentle hands and gentle eyes. “Let me give you a ride home.” 

“We’re going home?”

“I think it’s time. Think someone had a little too much.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

He is but also not. He’s sorry for being a burden — again. He’s not sorry for letting himself enjoy a night of unadulterated happiness with the people that mean the most to him.

“No need to apologize, Jamie. I’m glad you had fun. Now come on, silly boy. I’m tired.”

And when they step out of the place and into the night, all sweaty and hair a mess, he thinks that of all the things his eyes have ever seen, the best by far is her. Then and always. 

London passes by in a blur as (Y/N) drives them towards his house. All the bougie buildings and the iron fences and the trees in the parks, it’s all one kaleidoscope of color, a smudge of light and shadows. 

It’s not like he can really focus on that though. Partly because all he can think of is her and partly because he’s absolutely wasted. Mostly her though. Definitely mostly her.

“Did you have a good time?” his voice slices through the comfortable silence.

“I always have a good time when I’m with you, silly boy. Did you?” 

He rests his cheek against the smooth leather of her car seats and regards her with an infinite sense of wonder and adoration. In any other situation, this position would be deeply uncomfortable but he’s numb to anything but the beating of his heart and the strings that pull him towards his best friend.

“Obviously. Had my best girl with me. “

“Keeley?”

His eyebrows raise in confusion. “Keeley? No you numpty, you!” 

“Me?”

“Why would you think I was talking about Keeley?”

He wishes he could see the look on her face. This is not a car conversation. 

“Uh, she’s the only real adult relationship you ever had and you had a poster of her on your wall. Makes one think things. In fact, I believe that poster is still up.”

Jamie can’t help but scoff at her words. Not in a dismissive way necessarily but this whole conversation seems so silly to him. Yeah, he loved Keeley in a way and yeah she’s still one of his best friends but never has she come close to (Y/N). Keeley hardly ever got to see the real Jamie, the one that didn’t hide behind this larger-than-life footballer persona. (Y/N) met him before that persona even existed.

“Stop thinking things then. You’re my best girl, always.”

He still can’t see her face since she is looking at the road in front of them, but he can see the smile pulling the corner of her lips upwards, and for the moment that’s good enough for him.

Her car comes to a stop in front of Jamie's house but while he drags himself out of his seat, she stays put. 

“What are you doing, love?” 

“Dropping you off?” 

“Are you not coming inside then?” 

“Do you want me to come inside? We spent pretty much all week with each other, I thought you might be sick of me by now.” 

A ridiculous thought if he’s ever heard one. He could never get sick of her. They could be glued to each other for the rest of eternity and he wouldn’t mind one bit. 

Even in his drunk state of mind though, he realizes that’s not something he can tell her. That crosses out of friend territory. So he just chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“Do I want you to come in? What a dumb question is that? Of course, I do. I have a bag of those disgusting spicy crisps waiting for you in my kitchen.”

“In that case —” 

10 minutes later they’re sitting on his couch, her legs across his lap, munching away at those god-awful crisps as some overly dramatic American home renovation show flickers across the TV screen. 

In moments like these, love lives here. In these walls and on this couch. And it’s terrifying because thinking about love also makes him think of the possibility of losing it. But every once in a while, Jamie lets himself feel a tiny bit of it. Just enough to keep him going. 

“Hey Jamie,” she speaks up, her face only illuminated by the light coming from the TV. She’s wearing his shirt and he wills himself not to focus too hard on that because that will cause images to ghosts through his mind that he can’t allow himself to ever think about. Images that cross every line ever drawn when it comes to friendships.

“Yes, love?” 

“You’re my best boy too. Not sure I ever told you.” 

He doesn’t answer, not in words at least. But he squeezes her legs as they rest on him, and he hopes she knows. Oh god if only she knew. 

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thinks so. (Y/N) knows he thinks so because he let it slip once or twice when he was drunk and his words were all jumbled and his mind was all hazy. 

And every damn time it breaks her fucking heart. Because loving Jamie Tartt is the easiest thing she ever did. It comes as natural as breathing. It feels like a nice ray of summer sun on her skin, sizzling and exciting and warm.

Loving Jamie is a gift.

Now if only there was a way she could make him realize that. But every time he lets himself be even a little vulnerable he is so quick to cover the cracks with stupid jokes or misplaced arrogance before a real conversation can happen. 

She needs him to realize it though. To understand that loving him isn’t difficult. Because how can you tell someone you love them and make them understand just how much they mean to you when they deem themself unlovable? 

Turning her head to the side she looks at his sleeping face. Somewhere between Fixer Upper and House Hunters, he fell asleep, leaving her alone with her thoughts. He’s snoring something awful but she still thinks he’s adorable. Jamie has a mischievous, lovable quality to him that just makes you open your heart to him whether you want to or not. Yeah, sure, he’s let people down, he’s done shitty things, but he’s trying. He’s learned and he’s changed and the price for being young and stupid and cocky should not be a life spent questioning if you deserve other people’s love. 

Jamie Tartt is not hard to love. But loving him and not being able to tell him because he doesn’t love you in quite the same way, that’s just fucking cruel.

The air is loaded with static. Everyone is on the edge of their seat. (Y/N) is huddled in between Rebecca and Keeley, holding their hands and nervously biting at her lip. Emotions are running high as Richmond is playing Manchester. Correction — they’re not only playing them, they are kicking their asses.

It’s 2-0 for Richmond and they’re already 1 minute into the 3 minutes of additional time. If Manchester doesn’t get a miracle, Richmond wins. The thought of that makes a fluttery feeling spread in (Y/N)’s stomach. If this is how she feels, she can only imagine what Jamie must feel like. 

1:30

2 minutes

2:30

3 minutes.

“Blow the whistle. Come on. Blow the fucking whistle.” 

And as if he heard her pleading, the referee blows the whistle giving Richmond their win. 

Laughter and cheers and songs fill the air as every Richmond fan is on their feet celebrating a win they so desperately wanted and that the team fought so hard for.

The win Jamie fought so hard for. 

She tries to find him across the pitch but there are too many people, hugging and celebrating, too much noise. She just hopes he knows how proud she is.

And she hopes that somewhere out there his dad is watching. Sees him win, with the team he doesn’t approve of. Watches him succeed and be the man he never was and never will be.

She hopes somewhere deep in the inky black pit that is his heart, he finds a glimmer of pride for his only son, even if it comes entirely belated.

Jamie has won quite a few matches by now and it’s always a great feeling but some wins stand out. This is one of them.

His heart is filled with gratitude and pride, and his entire system is flooded with adrenaline and utter euphoria. He’s positively buzzing as the team gathers in the hallway leading toward the locker room. Some of them have been whisked away to give short post-match interviews — as if there is much to say other than how fucking awesome it feels to win — while the others are waiting for them to come back so they can all meet up at the locker room for some after match briefing. 

“Superstar, you did it!” 

Her voice carries through the hallway above the rest of all the noise. Like a siren calling out to him, she can’t hear anything but her, it all shifts into the background.

She weaves through the crowd like a fucking goddess in blue. He always thought she looked good in the Richmond colors and seeing her with his name on her back never fails to make his heart shutter with delight. But there’s something about today that makes this even more special. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline of winning. Of making his mom proud and proving his dad wrong. Of proving himself wrong. Maybe it’s seeing her in his kit, with his name and his number smiling that radiant smile of hers. Maybe it’s a combination of all these things. But something makes his brain short-circuit for a moment. Just a fleeting moment but long enough to make him push through the crowd until he’s standing in front of her, matching smiles on their faces. Just long enough for him to softly place one hand on her waist and pull her closer, so unbelievably close. Just long enough to cradle her face in his other hand, gentle and careful, like the most precious thing in the world. Long enough for him to place his lips on hers in a kiss so sweet, so long in the making, it feels surreal. It feels like he’s still stuck in his saccharine daydream.

And then reality snaps back and he pulls away, opening his eyes to a smiling (Y/N) staring back up at him through curious eyes.

“Silly boy, what was that?” 

She doesn’t sound upset, in fact, his delusions might even make him think she sounds delighted. 

“I — “ 

“Jamie, locker room. Let’s go, boy!” 

Ted’s voice calls out to him all full of glee and jubilation. The guy sounds even more chipper than usual and that says a whole lot. 

Pulling away from her feels like having a bubble suddenly popped. Every what-if that has been clouded by post-win euphoria suddenly bears their ugly head again. Sometimes Jamie wishes his thoughts weren’t so fucking loud all the time.

“Go, your coach is asking for you. I’ll see you at the after-party. We’ll talk then, yeah?”

Only they don’t because, for some inexplicable reason, Jamie avoids her like the plague.

Everyone is gathered at the bar for celebratory drinks, it’s a private function, just the team and family and associates. Spirits are high, everyone’s excited. And all things considered this night should be magical. Only it’s not, because once again Jamie refuses to let himself be loved.

Rejection tastes bitter. It’s sharp and metallic. Rejection also tastes quite a lot like tequila.

The salt, the lime, the liquor — it’s supposed to make her feel better. It’s supposed to mend the cracks in her heart, if only for a night. 

It doesn’t do any of that, it only makes her fucking sad.

How foolish of her to believe that he’d feel the same, that he’d finally pick up on the hints she’s been dropping for over a decade and reciprocate the feelings. Maybe they never stood a chance anyway. Maybe —

No, actually fuck that.

He can’t do this, it’s unfair. You don’t kiss someone, not like that at least, and then ignore them for the rest of the night. Especially not when that person is your best fucking friend.

Bumping against people left and right, she makes her way across the room to stand next to a smiling Jamie deep in conversation with a pretty girl, who (Y/N) is quite sure is the sister of one of his teammates.

“I need to talk to you.” It’s not a request. Not this time. This conversation has been a long time coming. It’s time, she thinks, to finally be brave. One can only swallow down their feelings and emotions for so long, until they come bubbling to the surface like a fucking volcano rolling over Pompeii. She just hopes that once the dust settles there will be hope instead of death and destruction.

“Uh, kind of in the middle of something here.” 

She can’t stand this part of him. This fake, unbothered cool guy who has no empathy for her or anyone other than himself. She hates it mostly because this is not the real Jamie, just some cardboard cutout version of him.

“Too bad, that'll have to wait.” 

She doesn’t give him another second to resist or shake her off, just grabs onto his arm and pulls him through the crowd and towards the exit.

The nightly London air feels cold against her skin, making her shiver as goosebumps appear on her arms.

“What the fuck is going on with you?”

“What the fuck is going on with me?”

He can’t be serious.

“Yeah. I had something going there. She was well fit too.”

The urge to smack him across his stupidly handsome face is seriously fighting her desire to kiss him again right about now.

“Good for her but you owe me a conversation.”

“(Y/N), I — “ 

The way he rolls his eyes so dismissively, so suave and cool, it’s like a dagger straight to the heart.

“No, you know what — fuck you, Jamie. I know you have a hard time letting people in completely, and I get that that’s something you have to work through on your own time but the way you're treating me right now is really shit. You can’t kiss me like that and then run. I’ve been waiting for that fucking kiss for over a decade.” 

“What?” 

He looks at her with the signature Jamie Tartt look of confusion and innocence. Like a damn puppy or something. And if she wasn’t so annoyed, so hurt, maybe she’d find it endearing.

“I’m in love with you, Jamie. I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you. I’ve been in love with you since I was sat next to you in class and you asked me if Pythagoras was that French guy. I’ve loved you when you were just a chaotic teenager. I’ve loved you when you won your first game and when you lost. I’ve loved you when you signed your first contract and when you made a complete fool of yourself on that ridiculous tv show. And I love you now. So to think you finally picked up on it and reciprocate my feelings was — I was so happy, Jamie. Only for you to completely ignore me for the rest of the night. I don’t deserve that. Not from you of all people. “

“Will you let me talk?”

“No, I’m not done yet.”

“Alright, go on.”

“I love you, Jamie and I know you think I shouldn’t and that you don’t deserve it, but guess what? I don’t care. I love you anyway and I am not asking for permission to love you. That’s not how it works. And I don’t love you despite your flaws, I love them too. Even your stupid 2003 looking haircut and your ridiculous clothes that make you look like a male Bratz doll sometimes. Sorry people in your life made you feel like you had to earn it just because they couldn’t see how phenomenal you are. Just you, Jamie Tartt, messy little prick.” 

Silence wraps around them like a thick blanket as a moment passes, then two. Jamie raises his eyebrows in question.

“Can I?”

“Yes, you can!”

“Jesus, alright. Stop yelling at me.”

“Well, I’m upset!”

“And I’m sorry about that. I never meant to upset you. Ever. I just — do you remember that one birthday, I think I turned 12, when me dad showed up and he was just being his usual asshole self and he made me play against him and then yelled at me in front of all the guests when he won? “

She sure does. Even at 12, she wanted to put her tiny little fist straight between Mr. Tartt’s eyebrows. “Yes.”

“You sat with me when I went to my room to escape. Refused to leave my side. Called my dad a wanker and you made me laugh. Then you got me a piece of cake and we ate it on my bed while watching Spongebob.” A smile plays on his lips as he reminisces about that day.

“I was 12 and I didn’t know a lot but I knew that night that I was in love with you and I immediately promised myself I wasn’t gonna do anything about it. Losing you is the scariest thing I can think about and my track record with people is pretty shit, honestly. So yeah I didn’t want to even risk fucking up with you. Rather have you as a friend than not have you at all.”

“So why did you kiss me earlier after all?”

“For one, you looked so fit in blue, with my name on your back. I was full of adrenaline and just so fucking happy. I uh — I think my mind was telling me that it’s finally time to be brave for once.”

Hearing him say it, it’s something she never expected but always hoped for. She’s played this scene out so many times in her dreams and yet she doesn’t know what to say or do now that it is actually happening.

“So what now?”

“Well, if you let me, I was gonna kiss you. Because if you think that other kiss was great, this next one is going to change your life.”

As those words fall from his lips, (Y/N) can’t get close to him quick enough. Pulling him towards her by the front of his shirt. Closer and closer until there is no room left between them and he gently nuzzles his nose against hers. 

“Jamie Tartt?” 

“Hmm?”

“Change my life!”

Jamie Tartt is hard to love. At least he thought so. And maybe a part of him still does and always will. But kissing (Y/N), his best girl, the fucking love of his life, it feels quite easy to let himself be loved. 

Feels as easy as breathing. And for once in his life, the reality is so much sweeter than the daydream. 

[xokohaneazusawa]

hello pookie i’m the anon who got injured while playing football during PE!! (update on the injury: it doenst hurt as much anymore, but it’s fucking black?? around the corners?? AM I DYING 💀)

ok but anygays i saw someone else comment on the post who also wanted another part so i can now overcome the guilt of potentially asking for too much and ask for that infirmary part 2 anyways 😍😍 (nvm it’s not working. i still feel bad.)

and ofc i was thinking of the bllk boys during PE we were literally playing football and i was thinking about how funny it would be if i pulled a chigiri and broke my leg right then and there because of how bad i was at it (i’m so sorry.)

fr tho i cannot play for shit 😭 these mfs make it look so damn easy but football is too damn difficult 💀(i don’t exercise. if i have the option to stay at home every day of my life with everything in it and unlimited supply of food and other essentials, i would. i also failed my school’s fitness test and struggle to open bottle caps sometimes.) i’m just a girl 🎀

i don’t mean to be greedy or demanding but an infirmary scene would really heal my soul (and hopefully my nose. i still dk why it’s turning a bit black. 💀 maybe it’s bruising idk 💀)

p.s. i think my nose is fine but idk. it doesn’t feel pain or anything, and the wound is quite inconspicuous. like i have to squint to see it and the weird black parts (haha 400 eye degree 😍)

You never have to feel bad about asking for anything from me, I'm happy to really do whatever lol! I'm actually so excited to write this, I mean it's such a cute idea!!

Chigiri Hyoma

-> Bro fought with the nurses to stay with you, so that man is not leaving your side the whole time you are there. I mean he's sitting next to your bed, or next to you if you're in a chair, and not leaving for anything.. well unless you asked for something, but that's not the point here

✮ - He sighed and watched as they started to take some tissues making sure that the bleeding was stopping, and applying an ice pack on your nose. He laughed slightly when he saw you flinch due to the cold, but made sure to squeeze your hand slightly to show that it would be fine. Once the ice was applied they made you sit and wait for a little, just to help with the healing, and came by every couple minutes at first to make sure that everything was okay and that you weren't getting freezer burn by any chance. The nurses were all really sweet, and Chigiri was making sure you were following what they said, no matter how cold that ice pack was, your ass, was not taking it off around him. Man already has a good track record of listening to what the doctors say, he trusts them, so in due turn you're following everything that they say as well. He sighs when you finally can take off the ice pack and he can already see the bruise forming under the red from the cold.

"Next time make sure you're not in dream land, because I'm gonna be way worse then these people when taking care of your stupid ass."

Rin Itoshi -> He might have left because the nurses told him to go back, but he also might have accidently put somebody else in the infirmary because he wasn't paying attention and went a little too hard on one of the newbies, so he ended up being back after only a couple minutes. Though the second he got back he was sitting next to you and making sure that you were okay, more with his actions then his words

✮ - This man hurried back over to the infirmary, he was almost asked by a couple teachers to slow down on the way there but when they saw he also looked pissed off (It's really just his rbf) they decided to just leave him alone. Assumed he was gonna like murder then if they had said something. The second he got back he rushed over to where you were, immediately asking if you were okay. Though it might not have sounded like he cared, the way that he almost plowed through like 3 teachers on the way here made up for it. The nurses were hella confused but once they saw him sitting right next to you and slightly holding onto your hand making sure they you didn't remove the ice pack, no matter how cold it was, they kinda just aww-ed and continued their work, checking up on you making sure that you didn't accidently get freezer burn and checking for bruising and things like that. He stayed holding your hand the whole time, letting you squeeze his hand whenever they tried to mess with your nose, pushing it around. He sighed when they finally walked away, looking up at you.

"I hope you know that I almost sent another lukewarm player from your team to the infirmary.. never do that shit again."

Nagi Seishiro

-> He will stay with you the whole time, mostly because he was too lazy to go back to class, and the fact that he was really only trying to impress you and since you're not there anymore it didn't matter to him. Though he will make sure to ask every couple minutes if you're okay, even if he looks like he's falling asleep against your shoulder

✮ - Was actually half falling asleep against your shoulder before you had to move him slightly when the nurse gave you an ice pack, which woke him up and that’s when he realized what was actually happening, to which he did end up staying awake to make sure that you were okay. Checking on you every couple minutes with a quick “You good?” or “You’re not dying. Right?”. He’s trying his best, but normally Reo takes care of him, he’s never been on the other side of this. The nurses will always slightly laugh at him, because he looks kinda worried but actually has no idea on what to do to help you. Is the only one who will actually take the ice pack off of you, not because he was trying to prevent healing, but you said your nose was cold and bro just fixed the problem, well that was until you laughed at him and he was hella confused. (please explain to this man about the great thing to athletes and injuries that is an Ice pack). Though he was super sweet other than that and did try to learn a bit and pay attention when the nurse finally let you leave with just some instructions on how to take care of it.

“Next time, just pay attention.. So we don’t have to go through all of this again. How I wished first aid kids that just auto healed worked in real life..”

Bachira Meguru

-> Stayed with you, but he laughed. The whole time. Man has almost been in tears twice sitting next to you, thinking about the way the ball came right in the center of your face and now it's all bruised. The nurses at this point also wanna give him a bruised nose so he can finally shut up

✮ - He was trying to contain his laugh the whole time he walked you there, plus in the office when the nurses were trying to help you, by getting tissues, an ice pack, and possibly some sort of pain medication. You probably have already given this man so many dirty looks and glares, but he just doesn’t seem to care whatsoever. Now, not to get this confused. He is concerned for your safety, but the fact that you got smack dabbed hit in the center of your face with a football is just so freaking funny to him and he’s just watching it over and over in his head. Had it been a whole different injury, one that didn’t look so funny, he would probably be more serious about it, but come on, it was pretty funny. Though, he’s probably also gotten hit a couple times with a ball so he does at least know the basics of making sure that you’re okay. So another one that makes sure that you keep that ice pack on the whole goddamn time, unless obviously, freezer burn. (I’ve had it, it sucks.) Though again, everytime he sees your nose, all red and starting to get bruised he will indeed laugh. But at the end of the day he’ll also be pretty helpful in making sure that it gets better, since his past experiences, if you can deal with the constant teasing.

“Oh come onnnn, It’s pretty funny! I mean how far out were you to get hit in the middle of the god damn face- Oh wait, here I have some bandaids so you can compress it”

Isagi Yoichi

-> Always making sure that you're okay. You move? He's asking. You made a funny face of pain? He's asking. You even looked at him? he's asking. He's really just worried and wants to make sure that you're okay and that it won't be all that bad or anything

✮ - This man has not left your side the whole time you’ve been sitting there. He’s constantly asking and making sure you’re okay and don’t need anything. Not to mention, he’s also been holding your hand the whole time, just in case. The only time he ever lets go is when the nurses come to make sure you’re okay. He’s just being cautious, hey, maybe you’ll need two hands to hold something or whatever. The only time he will keep his hold on you is when they come to move it around to make sure it’s not like broken or anything, then he’ll keep it there so you can squeeze it to deal with the pain, hey, hurt noses are nothing to sneeze at (please somebody laugh at that). Whenever your hand gets tired (or just cold) of holding your ice pack, he’ll take over. He’s just so freaking helpful and all the nurses love him for that. Though being an athlete himself does help a lot, he’s pretty good at knowing how all this stuff works. Checking to make sure that you’re following what the nurses said and making sure that it’s not getting too bad. Though once he sees that it’s all red and stuff he will chuckle a little, as worried as he is.

“Maybe next time you keep your attention on the field and not in whatever world you were in, okay?”

Reo Mikage

-> He was still laughing a little bit, and chuckled when he was reminded of the event, but for the most part was pretty worried about you and made sure that you didn't touch it too much so you didn't accidently hurt it anymore. Like Isagi, he also made sure to ask if you were okay every couple minutes, he just really wants to make sure that it won't cause anything long term.

✮ - He was sitting in the nurse's office with you, making sure that you were okay, asking if you needed anything. Water? To take off the ice pack for a second? Another tissue? He’s got it all covered. I mean he’s been taking care of Nagi for how long, this isn’t all that different. Well besides the fact he also gets a laugh or two out of it. (he won’t actually let out a laugh until you’re leaving the nurse’s office, and when he’s sure that it’s starting to get better). He just thinks it’s a little funny, watching the scene replay in his head of you getting hit in the face with the football. He knows that he shouldn’t laugh at your demise, but you can’t blame him. Though he’ll make sure that you always have everything you need for the next couple weeks, or at least until it’s healed. After the initial injury he might be a little more easy to make laugh, and by that I mean every time he sees your slightly bruised nose he’s letting out a chuckle. Was he worried at first? Yeah. But now he just sees it as a memory of you spacing out at the worst time.

“I know that I look good on the field, but next time pay attention to the flying ball and not at your amazing boyfriend~”

Sae Itoshi

-> Staying with you. No matter what. The nurses most likely hate him at this point, he's silent and he really isn't doing anything besides being next to you. Though, what they don't know is that fact every time he sees you twist with discomfort or make a face he's reaching over to ask if you're okay or you need anything

✮ - The nurses have come over a couple times at this point, once to give you an ice pack, once just to double check that you were okay, and once to give you some pain medication and water. Though on the right side of you, Sae has just been looking over at some of the other patients, and nurses walking around the office. After everytime one of the nurses walks up to you or does anything he will turn his attention back over to you and ask you a quick “you okay.” slightly looking at either your face or body language. If he ever can see that you’re lying to him, good luck to you. He’s an athlete, man has most likely gotten hurt in his career, and he knows lying and saying you’re fine isn’t doing anything, it’s actually most likely making it worse. So in turn he will glare at you until you finally say that you’re not okay. He just wants you to be honest, especially if it hurts and it’s something that can be fixed. Though also with his background he knows how to take care of things like that, and might possibly be the best one to have in this scenario, well if you can deal with him constantly not (facial) showing that he cares.

“You’re stupid, I hope you know that. And now you’re being even more stupid, don’t touch it.”

[redrose10]

Chapter 7 is here! It’s a little shorter that the previous ones. Next chapter in a few days as usual. I may not respond but I do read all the comments and messages and I appreciate them.

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word count: 1,338

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

You did a lot of thinking on the bus ride home. Yoongi had tried calling you multiple times. He must’ve tried Jimin too because he also conveniently called which you decided to answer.

“Hey Y/N what’s going on? Yoongi just called me really upset. Something about you leaving and he can’t find you.”

“He lied to me. He used me. I feel stupid and gross.”

“That doesn’t seem right. Are you sur-.”

“YES JIMIN! I saw the text message.”, you said trying to lower your voice back down after receiving some glares from other passengers.

“Okay okay. Where are you now?”

“I’m on a bus. I’m gonna go pack up some clothes and then find somewhere else to stay. I’m not spending another night with him.”

“Y/N I think maybe you should give him a chance to explain. If you told me months ago that Yoongi did this I wouldn’t question it but I just don’t think this is him any more.”

You gave him nothing but silence in return.

“Alright well be safe Y/N. My doors open if you need it. Call me.”

The bus had to make several stops along the way so the ride home took longer than you would’ve liked. When you finally entered the penthouse Yoongi was already sitting at the kitchen table. When he saw you he jumped up and ran over,

“Y/N are you okay? Where did you go? Please let me explain.”

“Explain what Yoongi? How you lied to me? How you used me? How you’ve been trying to ruin my life for the last year?”

“Y/N, yes I’m the first to admit I didn’t treat you like I should’ve. I know that and I’m owning up to it. I swear on everything I didn’t sleep with her.”

“Okay Yoongi. Say I believe you, which I 100% do not, how do I know there aren’t other women? How do I know you aren’t lying to me about all of this right now? You don’t exactly have a good track record.”

“Y/N I promise you. You have to believe me.”

“Not good enough.”, you laughed.

You ran off to your room stuffing several days worth of clothes into a bag to take with you. As you were zipping it up a patch of gold at the bottom of your closet caught your eye. You smirked as you grabbed the gold wrapped box and your bag and walked out to the living room to find Yoongi.

He was sitting on the couch staring down at the ground.

“Here, Happy Anniversary.”, you said handing him the box.

He looked up at you with furrowed brows.

“Seriously take it. I already spent the money on it so you might as well have it.”

He cautiously grabbed the box from you and tore away the gold wrapping paper. He took off the lid of the black box and chuckled to himself. He held it up to you with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah I thought of the idea a while ago before things started improving between us. But then I decided that I wasn’t going to give it to you after you had actually began acting like a decent husband. I think it’s fitting now though. Don’t you agree?”

“What did you have this special ordered or something?”

“Yeah turns out that when you have money you’re able to get a lot done.”

Yoongi scoffed and set the box down on the table.

“Y/N I know I fucked up and treated you like shit. I admit that. I can’t change it or take it back and I regret it every day. But I was ready to do anything and everything to prove to you how much I’ve changed and how I was going to be better husband.”

“Yoongi, do you know how alone I’ve felt this whole time? How heartbroken I’ve been? How stupid I felt? I’ve sat here and waited for you like a dog and for what? I’m an idiot for staying so faithful to you. Maybe Mia had the right idea. Marry you and get all the perks that come with it but still get to sleep around the town. It’s what you do anyways. I think that’s what I’m gonna start doing from now on too. No more sitting around like a good little housewife waiting for my husband to return. I’m an even bigger idiot for thinking you could change. That you’re capable of loving someone because you’re not. You’ll never love anyone, not even yourself and because of that you will never truly be loved by anyone.”

You felt out of breath but lighter after you got all of that off your chest. Yoongi looked at you with tears in his eyes. The first time you’d ever seen him cry and just like that the weight was back. Maybe you had been a little too harsh but you kept telling yourself he deserved it.

Silently he walked over to the entrance way and began digging through one of his bags before pulling out a package wrapped in blue and purple paper. He walked over and handed it to you. “Here, Happy anniversary Y/N. Now go run to Jimin or Taehyung or Namjoon. Fuck every guy in Korea for all I care any more. I’ll just go back to being cold asshole Yoongi who constantly fucks other women since that’s all you’re ever going to see me as anyways. And maybe your right. Maybe I don’t deserve to be loved.” He turned and walked away wiping at the tears falling from his eyes. You started to reach out to him but ultimately decided against it choosing to just leave instead.

You took the gift and walked out of the penthouse letting the door slam shut behind you. Unwrapping the paper you found a cream colored book that was quite heavy. Flipping to the first page there was a handwritten note, “Y/N, I’m not good with speaking my mind so I figured I better write this down for you to read so I don’t ramble like an idiot. I wanted to get you something for our anniversary that money cant buy because you deserve more than jewelry or designer bags. I hope you like it. I’ve been working with a private investigator to track down anyone in your family that I could. They gave me one of the only numbers they could find. I called it and I was able to speak with your Great Aunt Ellie who had this book and after some convincing she agreed to send it to me. I know it’ll mean a lot to you and I can’t wait to see your beautiful smile as you flip the pages. Love Yoongi.”

You opened to the first page and instantly started crying. A photo album. He had went through all the work of tracking down your family to get you a photo album of yourself and your closest family members. Going through the pages you saw photos of you as a baby and of your parents. Photos of you on vacation and at Christmas time. Some on birthdays. A photo of you and your Aunt Erica sitting next to her hydrangea bush hit you particularly hard. You’d never had any photos of your family or yourself as a child until now. You stood in the hallway flipping through the pages with your sobs getting stronger as you went.

On the other side of the door Yoongi sat down on the couch staring at the box in front of him. He picked up the black bottle that looked back at him with such vengeance. He read over the words painted in silver,

‘Despicable, A one of kind fragrance for Min Yoongi’.

He took the bottle throwing it against the wall watching it shatter into hundreds of little glass shards. The liquid inside slowly descending down pooling on the floor beneath it. He ran his hands over his face as the scent of smoke and dark amber filled the air.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi, Miss Raven! Since you seem to be a Leona fan, can you explain what his plan and goal was in book 2?

Eh… I don’t think being a Leona fan is a prerequisite to understand his motives and plan 😅 AND FOR THE RECORD, I DOn’T LIKE KINgSCHOLAR, OKAy??????? (<- tsundere)

It’s spelled out pretty plainly in book 2, albeit in a sort of scattered way. Here’s the Sparknotes:

Many of Savanaclaw students tend to get picked up by professional magift/spelldrive scouts at the inter-dorm tournament. However, they haven’t been able to stand out recently because Diasomnia (and more specifically Malleus) crushes them in their matches. This has made many Savanaclaw students worry about their futures once they graduate. Leona, being the dorm leader, decides to cook up a plan to help his dorm members.

Importantly, Leona also has complex selfish motives (which, sadly, are not fully explored in the game). He, being the scorned second born prince of his country, was put down his entire life and compared to his older brother in spite of him constantly trying to demonstrate his merits. His whole bid in book 2, then, is partly fueled by a personal disdain for Malleus, wanting to help his dorm out, and that desire to prove he has what it takes to be a “leader”. This is his time to shine—and that’s why he reacts so poorly when his plan falls through. This failure is, to him, just another kick to the teeth, another reminder that he was so stupid to have had any hope at all, that he shouldn’t have even bothered trying. (The light novel explains Leona’s innermost feelings a lot better than the game does, so I’d recommend that you read this post for more context!)

Anyway, Leona decides to use dirty tactics to get their main rivals and most threatening opposing players out of the way so Savanaclaw can have the spotlight. He has Ruggie use his UM, Laugh with Me (which allows him to force others to mimic his own body movements), to injure other students who may pose a threat in the tournament. Notable casualties include Jamil from Scarabia and Trey from Heartslabyul. The ultimate goal, however, is to take out Malleus.

Leona made a deal with Azul in preparation for his attack on Malleus. He basically forks over a lot of money in exchange for a magic enhancing potion. The idea is that Ruggie will take this potion, which will magnify his UM and allow him to control a lot more people at once. When Malleus comes out, Ruggie will control the bodies of all the spectators in the arena and they’re supposed to… trample Malleus I guess? (It’s not clear if Leona’s intention was to outright kill Malleus this way or just to incapacitate him to the point where he cannot participate in the tournament.)

Leona reasons that Malleus would not be able to use his magic on civilians, so he would be caught in a position where he cannot escape, but… well, let’s just say there’s a reason why book 2 is commonly regarded as the “worst” of the main story. There are SO many plot holes book 2 might as well be swiss cheese 😭 Like, what the heck is stopping Malleus from teleporting away??? Or using magic to heal himself back to full health if he did get injured??

Leona’s plan is so stupid and unimpressive in book 2 that it makes HIM also look stupid and unimpressive. I always, always have to get a dig in whenever I discuss this part of the main story because it makes me SO salty. It’s such a half assed introduction to Leona as a character and it forever stains his legacy… 💢 You’ll find many book 2 rewrite/fix-it posts and fics because of this. (I have one of my own; you can read that here!)

[alexging]

sean diaz + daniel diaz modern hcs

i kind of forgot this was exclusively modern at the end just ignore that LMFAO

- sean has no social media presence whatsoever

- a lot of people from school follow him but he only follows lyla and his track team back 😭 popular loner energy 🥀🐺

- i feel like if sean went to hs now hed be sm more popular esp w girls but hes rlly humble so he doesnt see it at all

- hes stupid and just thinks theyre being nice

- it gets on lylas nerves bc he refuses to believe anybody wants him 😭

- all his stories are like fireworks he posted when he was thirteen that he never bothered to delete

- its titled Highlights bc he doesnt know how to make an aesthetic instagram

- if anything, if he posts now its skate videos, drawings, or funny pics of daniel

- sean def takes 0.5x photos of daniel where his eyes go two diff directions and threatens to send them to lyla whenever he starts acting up

- daniel always throws a tantrum and esteban gets mad and tells sean to delete the pics (he doesnt)

- speaking of daniel he def got wayyy into skibidi toilet

- daniel tries to explain skibidi toilet n sean just tunes him out and says “uh huh” every so often

- hes those impressionable kids that gets into literally anything on the internet. among us, squid games, ROBLOX FOR SURE. sticky ipad baby energy overall!

- sean plays roblox with daniel on very rare occasions. i can imagine daniels avatar is decked out with limited items and sean is a bacon haired woman 😭

- daniel has definitely swiped estebans card a couple times under his nose for his robux…

- daniel purposely chooses games hes good at to watch sean struggle and die over and over again

- daniel watches weird kid youtube videos like… among us 24 hour challenge with spiderman and elsa giving birth kind of videos. sean gets really pissed off partly bc theyre rotting daniels brain and partly bc daniel always put it at max volume in the living room

- once sean gets paid he always goes thrifting. he fs goes to the bins and finds dirty dookie drawls every weekend 😭 but its worth it bc he finds cool shit

- as a skater boy i feel its obligatory for him to wear those afflication types of clothing as well as ironic graphic tees

- sean def wears baggy jeans in 2023 🙅‍♀️ none of that straight leg jeans from the game!!

- he also probably loves those ironic wolf shirts w the galaxy print n thinks theyre so funny

- sean also buys clothes in his style for daniel from the thrift n records 360s of daniel in his skater outfits

- “can i go play roblox now?” “no u have to cover ur nose when u turn around”

- got a buzzcut and surprisingly it looked really good

- esteban, daniel, lyla, and practically everyone else in his life kept making fun of him for being bald and would rub his head like a genie bottle tho

- daniels go-to is “well- well at least i don’t look like… look like caillou!” bc i imagine he tries to make funny comebacks but always stutters in the middle 😭😭

- eventually grew it back out bc he got annoyed at everyone making fun of him. they dont see his blond album cover early 2000s vision 💔

- daniel has no room to talk bc sooner or later he goes to the barber and gets a fucked edgar bowlcut

- sean laughs until he can barely breathe 😭 when lyla sees she TRIES to cheer him up about it but its too late

- even esteban laughs a little but only when daniel cant see bc he knows how much itd hurt him

- back to the blond album cover… sean LOVES music. his playlists are hours long

- i feel like he indulges in a super LARGE range of music likeee from bad bunny to deftones to pinkpantheress

- everybody hates it when he has aux and boos him off

- when esteban orders mexican food, sean and daniel both get horchata. sean dgaf if hes grown he still loves it!!

- i imagine esteban slowly stopped enforcing mexican food and culture overtime. bc of this, daniel knows barely any spanish and has 0 spice tolerance. sean always makes fun of him bc he goes gets water after a couple hot cheetos

- daniel tries to recreate those videos of people eating carolina reapers in hot sauce to prove a point and almost dies

- sean absolutely LOVES halloween. horror movies, costumes, the weather, everything abt it

- a part of him always gets jealous of daniel bc hes no longer considered trick or treating age anymore

- lowkey hed be willing to pull up in a full body costume just so he can trick or treat again

- when watching horror movies, sean will get way too immersed and start judging the people in the movies 😭

- daniels not allowed to watch but he peaks around the corner when estebans not watching

- “why the fuck is she just standing there? RUN! WHAT THE FUCK DUDE?!”

- “language mijo”

- he acts like he cld fight off the killer and explains his mastermind plan during the movie

- he doesnt admit it but he gets jumpy after a horror movie 😭 esteban and daniel take advantage of this every single time

- sean daniel and esteban are a tight knit family REGARDLESS of sean’s moodiness and daniel’s annoying gen alpha brainrot theyre so 😢

yes im aware that 2016 wasnt tjat long ago but i dont want to imagine sean diaz enjoying dank memes and saying boi 💔