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saetoru · 7 months

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Tee…

I’m now on my hands and knees BEGGING for bully Gojo who is (secretly) DISGUSTINGLY IN LOVE over the reader PLEASE ANY CRUMBS I WILL TAKE

(you don’t actually have to write this it was just a nice thought)

idkkkkk if it’s rly bully gojo—but he’s definitely a real cunt for sure.

i just think about an asshole! gojo a lot like he’s ur lab partners or something and he does that stereotypical jerk move where he’s like “seriously ?? her ??” when he’s first paired with you. and he’s just naturally an douche, yk ?? wears sunglasses indoors and makes jokes at the professors expense under his breath that gets him snickers and snorts from his frat guys in his class. has to be asked more than once to “please keep it down in the middle of class” by wtv prof he’s in class with.

and he ofc makes u do all the work bc he can’t be bothered—and on the rare occasion that he is bothered, he just does a poor job that’s the bare minimum and sloppy enough that ur like wtv i’ll just do it myself. and then ofc sometimes u don’t have a choice but to meet up to finish something after class every now and then—he wouldn’t care to, but he actually needs to know the stuff for the final report he has to write individually, so he begrudgingly meets up with you, and sometimes you notice his friends give you an amused look when he walks up with them. they snicker before they leave as he sits with you. sometimes they make a snide comment here and there like “have fun with ur super hot date” that makes him roll his eyes—he doesn’t do much to hide the look of distaste on his face.

but then—and he doesn’t even know when it happens—you start to slowly grow on him. because ur actually pretty snarky urself, sometimes making a dry comment here and there about the professor and his stupid bald headed self. sometimes a girl in the distance laughs too hard a group of guys that u roll ur eyes and mumble how “if i had a voice like that i’d never laugh in public” and it makes him snort a bit without meaning to. sometimes you stare daggers at the person who has their music so loud thru their headphones they can’t help but notice u and turn it down in embarrassment. ur actually not as much of a pushover as he thought—you just genuinely think he’s too incapable to help u out that you’ve just shrugged him off and started doing his part. it’s an easy weekly lab class anyway, you don’t need him—and then he realizes that u rly just don’t care for him. his little snickers at u with his friends and their snide comments roll off ur back bc well…he’s him—an asshole little frat boy and u didn’t expect anything better from him. so it makes him a little intrigued—maybe a little wounded in his pride, deep down, because no one has ever been indifferent to him before. they’re either madly in love, or they hate his guts, or they follow his lead. either works—he still gets the attention he craves.

but u just don’t rly care. and ur actually pretty cool, and kinda sorta funny in a way no one else is. he likes it…and fuck, now he’s starting to like you. he can tell bc when his friends ask how his little date with you went, he starts getting a bit huffy ab it bc they don’t need to talk about you. they don’t even know you…but also….its not a date. and that’s the worst part. sometimes it feels like a date. almost—sometimes you both decide to take a break in between and go get a coffee or a light snack. sometimes he’s even paid (to which you look mildly shocked before politely thanking him) and you both walk back to the library while u make light banter and it’s…well, fun. and nice. and your laugh is pretty. and your smile is kinda cute and he (though he hates to admit it) rly likes it when u laugh because of him.

and then things start to get messy—really, he didn’t mean for it to start this way. he really was meaning to ask you in a genuine manner to see u again once the semester was finished. because he’s actually started pulling his weight—he wants u to see him for someone who’s smart. satoru is actually rly rly smart and no one knows it because he doesn’t rly show it but he is. he wants u to see that side of him—somehow there’s some sick validation he rly needs from you knowing he’s not a dense frat guy who drinks and fucks until 3 am every night. so he starts doing his parts and actually communicates with u about sections. so starts ur texting routine—sometimes a little longer than u rly need to for just doing a lab together. sometimes it’s “did u hear ab that girl in our class getting dumped in front of the kfc ??” and sometimes it’s “god our prof rly needs to get some pussy” and other times it’s “look what the guy who sits behind us just posted on his story” and it leads to a few long convos that admittedly…are rly fun. ur so fun. he likes it. he rly does like u and he thinks maybe….maybe he’s grown on u too and you know what ?? satoru’s always a jerk but ur nice and who’s to say he can’t be nice too ?? just for one person. for u, he can be a nice guy—u carried lab all on ur own long enough that u deserve it anyway.

until he gets swayed in that way only a coward can. in that way you do when ur used to being “the man” around ur friends and ur too pressured to keep up that energy for appearances sake bc u don’t wanna be the laughing stock who softened up for “some nerdy chick who’s a nobody.” so he laughs when they laugh at the fact that ur probably “still a virgin who’s never touched a guy before” and then they’re patting gojo on the back and shoving at his shoulder as they laugh harder and suggest that “y’know what would be so funny man ?? if u took her virginity. you could probably do it.”

the thought is sickening because…satoru wouldn’t want to fuck you like that. god, you have him caring about when and how he fucks you—in fact, just thinking about you lewdly makes him feel guilty. disrespectful, even. you’re more than a fleshlight for his dick. since when did he become so respectful ?? but he doesn’t know how to say no, especially when everyone starts agreeing one after the other—and oh no, now they’re betting on how quickly he can do it….and oh, now it’s not just fucking. now it’s “how long until you think she’s head over heels for you? man, that would be a sight, huh ??”

and….well, satoru decides it couldn’t hurt, right ?? he does want to be romantically involved so that would include you being head over heels. hopefully. fingers crossed. and he doesn’t rly want to seem lame in front of the guys either, so he gets to keep both sides of the coin, so is it really that bad ?? maybe not the right idea but certainly the right execution. he’ll treat you well—that much he’s confident of. so he forces out a laugh and says “gimme a month or two, you’ll see.”

and a month or two they give him. and a month or two it takes—but not for you to be head over heels. it’s him who’s utterly and completely obsessed and fallen head first and whatever else they say to describe love because wow. this must be what it is. this must be that stupid fairytale shit they always talk about because fuck, no one has ever looked at him like that. like he’s some miracle to this earth and some wonder only you know of—like you hope it stays that way and that he’s yours and yours alone and no one else comes in to take him away. satoru really likes being yours, it kinda feels better than you being his. being yours means you hold him like that at night and wake him up to a kiss between his brows and sometimes, when he gets those migraines he’s prone to getting, you always seem to know. always seem to understand when to close the blinds and keep quiet and wrap him up in the covers as you rub your thumbs over his temples soothingly.

he almost forgets about that silly little bet he made two months ago when he’s around you. actually, he forgets everything when he’s around you. he’s only ever thinking about you, you, you. when he comes back to his frat house, on the other hand, they’re all gathered around waiting for the newest details. how you must’ve been so pathetically star struck by him. how you must be embarrassingly bad at kissing. how you must stutter over every other word around him. how you must be making a complete and utter fool of urself trying to impress him and be someone you’re not bc the real you would never pique his interest.

they’re wrong ofc. if anyone’s star struck, it’s satoru bc how the hell are u so…cool ?? and so funny and witty and carefree ?? and you’re good at kissing—have him chasing your lips with a whine every time. sometimes you even chuckle at him when he does and make him blush a bit. he’s the one who stutters over his words when he sees you in your little date night outfits. sometimes he watches you drink from your straw and his brain short circuits a little until you snap at him and ask him in confusion if he’s alright. but the real kicker ?? it’s that if anyone’s pretending, it’s satoru. you’re always just you—unapologetically so, that it’s endearing and beautiful and so unearthly he wonders how he got so lucky. but him ?? he’s always acting like some guy he’s not. some chivalrous guy who opens doors and pushes out seats and kisses the back of hands and waits at least a few dates before even considering fucking. some nice, sweet, genuine guy who’s deserving.

he’s not that—never was. if you knew the real him, you’d leave in a heartbeat. it’s a scary thought. a raw feeling he doesn’t like. makes him feel all self conscious and insecure and all that weird shit he never thought he’d feel.

he tries. so hard, he tries to make them forget about that silly little bet and just slowly drop it and maybe even forget ur dating so he can just stay living this peaceful little fantasy with you—but that’s stupid. that’s naive. it’s been 4 months and enough is enough—the guys need to see the look on ur face when u realize what a fool ur being and satoru is “being a lazy ass who’s too comfortable not having for work for pussy these days.” so then there’s a video going around. it’s everyone gathered around on the couch drunk and talking about you. and satoru. you both, in fact. how it’s been two months and u seem desperate for his attention with the shrill little voice you use to call him toru, baby! it’s so, so fucking embarrassing, they say. how you think he likes it. (he does. god he does so much, it hurts. he loves it, actually, when you call him that. makes him feel special in a way he never has.) but then, the worst, most disgustingly nauseous part of the whole thing is when satoru laughs along and plays into their awful words. just lets them talk about you like you’re some piece of meat. something for him to chew up and spit out after he has a taste or you. not even worth savoring and enjoying. he laughs along and agrees—you’re nothing special and he can’t wait until he’s free of you.

that part hurts. that part sucks the most—when he acts like he didn’t tremble under your touch every time you kissed him. like he didn’t beg you to stay just five more minutes! before walking out the door to go home. he acts one way in front of you and one way in front of them and what’s worse ?? you don’t know which one is real. couldn’t tell even if your life was on the line to decide. because there’s no way he’s that good at pretending to be desperately in love, no fucking way. but there’s also no way he can be in love if he’s talking about you like that. that’s not what love is—that’s not what love feels like. that’s not what it means to someone.

you don’t know which satoru is the real one, but you know that neither is worth your time. not if he can’t stick to it.

it’s terrible thing—the way you break up. it’s messy and teary and he’s begging, he’s actually begging. he never thought he’d do that. but he doesn’t even hesitate to plead for you to hear him out. baby, please let me explain. wait, please don’t walk away—please just listen! i can explain.

he can’t explain, though when you as him to. stands there with a bitten bottom lip and teary eyes that are pleading you to just stay with him. to overlook this and just … ignore it like it’s nothing. like what he did and said was just nothing and you can shrug it off like you’re nothing too. like your feelings are nothing and so is your worth and that’s why you should just ignore the way he absolutely destroyed your pride and reputation and dignity and worse….every ounce of your love.

such deep, raw, pure love—it’s almost enough to heal every dry crack and crevice of this earth and bring it back to life.

you look at him with teary eyes and something so broken, it makes him feel like dirt beneath your feet.

“it’s embarrassing, satoru,” you hiss that night through tears, “you’re in your twenties getting a degree and you’re still just a high school bully. life’s really gonna kick you in the ass some day.”

life’s already kicking him in the ass as soon as you walk out. the air is colder. the world is dimmer. food doesn’t taste as good and fuck—there is just so much loneliness when you have no one to be yourself with. when there’s no you.

but he supposes you’re right though—he is just a bully. it’s pathetic, really. and maybe it’s for the best. maybe you don’t deserve someone who’s only ever known how to feel good because someone else doesn’t.

#bye #this is so obnoxiously long for a silly little jumble of thoughts #maybe i’ll flesh it out and make it an actual fic tho #bully! gojo tag

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qdbs-writes · 2 years

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Hi can i get the cullens with a clingy female vampire mate

Pls i love u and ur work

aw thank you, nonny i love you too!

Cullen Clan with a clingy, female mate!Reader

Carlisle

He'll get you a job as his assistant in the hospital so you can spend more time with him

He knows vampires can't get sick but he's pretty sure you have anxiety

Once you're comfortable with being able to resist human blood in a medical environment, Carlisle will put you on the maternity unit, Forks could always use more midwives

Esme

You're clingy? That's fantastic, so now you can do everything together!

Esme spends most of her time doing charity work, like making cookies for a bake sale, so you can help her with that

You two have the cutest annual lesbian vow renewal ceremonies in the woods outside of casa Cullen, seriously they're so sweet!

Edward

You're gonna be clingy together but in a Romeo and Juliet level of clingy

Edward likes to be 'edgy clingy', so don't be surprised if he makes things more complicated than they need to be

He does love that almost all your thoughts are about how much you love him and want to be with him, he thinks its cute

Rosalie

In some way or another, I think Rosalie has always been scared of being alone so your clinginess is quite appealing

The fact that you're mates also helps confirm a lot of concerns that she had about immortality

But you can never get hurt or be uncomfortable, she will lose her shit if literally anything happens to you

Emmett

Would probably be the most stressful Cullen to be with if you're clingy, Emmett is just all over the place all the time

My boy regularly just forgoes all passenger safety laws in public, and yeah, he's an indestructible vampire, but that's not really the point

Despite how much time you spend together, he'll always find some way of screwing about whenever you take your eyes off him, like where did he get that bag of eggs?

Alice

Genuinely, she would've sought you out herself, like "Hi, my name is Alice, we've never met but we're destined to be immortal life partners!"

She knows that you're clingy and she doesn't care

She will warn you if she has a vision where you have to be apart for whatever reason so it doesn't come as a nasty shock

Jasper

Now, Jasper is probably the most nervous about you being clingy

Not that he doesn't like you being clingy, but he's worried that you might fall out of love with him when you learn how quiet and withdrawn he can be

In a way, he sort of likes that you depend on him for almost everything, it helps reinstate his antiquated concept of masculinity

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lightfeltmemories · 5 months

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episode one: phantom troupe and romance; headcanons from least toxic, to most toxic

characters include: chrollo, machi, pakunoda, shizuku, uvogin, shalnark, feitan, phinks, bonolenov, kortopi, hisoka, illumi, nobunaga, franklin. (not in order)

tw's: nsfw but nothing explicit, mentions of non-con, spoilers for the deaths of pakunoda, shalnark, kortopi and uvogin, toxic relationships, lovebombing, mentions of torture (not on reader), mentions of cheating, mentions of reader's death,

notes: a completely self indulgent post, you can probably tell who im biased towards by how long certain sections are.

because this contains mentions of nsfw, do not interact if you are under 18, you will be blocked if you do !! also, do not leave negative comments please, they will be deleted :)

pakunoda

out of everyone, guaranteed, she'll be the best partner out of everyone else, you might even end up shocked that she's apart of the troupe if it ever comes to you finding out.

she's a darling, spoils and cares for you like anyone else, a great listener and partakes in your interests in hobbies, its (almost) like a fairytale by how the relationship is, the troupe knows you but you don't know them! and she wants to keep it that way, of course still she's a murderer, so it would break her if you were to have found out about everything, she vowed to never let you know or even have you close to knowing about what she does, but you just can't help but wonder what she's doing when she's away for long periods of time.

until it comes to her death.

now, you eventually find out that she died from a close friend of hers, but he knows paku doesn't want you to know about the troupe, so, he's a bit vague, and a bit creepy.

nobunaga

personally out of everyone else, i feel like nobunaga would be other most normal when it comes to relationships, but then again, he's an enigma, he doesn't strike me as the type to be the best boyfriend literally ever or very very toxic, i feel like out of everyone else, if you're looking for someone to be in a semi normal relationship with, nobunaga is your best shot, but of course, he's a part of the phantom troupe, and any member apart of it isn't exactly the best partner by default.

he's still a murder and thief, like all members i believe that he would definitely steal things that remind him of you, he'd most definitely kill for you.

unlike someone like feitan or machi, he doesn't exactly have a problem with being vulnerable when you get to know him, he'll tell you about himself, and of course, because he's a criminal he can't exactly tell you what he does for a living, but can't bring himself to lie about it either, he's just hoping that one day, if you know, you won't leave or judge him for it, his childhood isn't exactly all sunshines and lolipops, y'know?

he'll love you from the ends of the earth, but he definitely won't let you walk all over him, quick to put your in your place and won't allow you to manipulate him, he won't lie to you (about trivial things, at least) so why should you? (who knows, maybe you're apart of a criminal organization and is pretty much a wanted criminal yourself :P)

bonolenov

similar to nobunaga i think if you want something that's somewhat normal, bonolenov is also a nice choice! (100% not putting him up so high because we don't really know that much about him it's totally because he would be a decent partner! honest!)

for one, you would definitely be introduced to usual romantic gestures and advances that come from his tribe, he'll tell you all about how things work with him, he'll do dances he learned when they were still here for you to show how much he adores you, and dresses you in garments that resemble such from his tribe, it's pretty cute, honestly!

now, what concerns him a bit is.. how you'll react without his bandages, he's not exactly sexy like chrollo but (to me, TO MEEEEEE) he's not the ugliest thing in the world! he just hopes that eventually if you see him in his true form, you don't scream and run away at the sight of him, its okay if you do! ..... kind of.

and if you don't, oh you'll mean so much to him!

kortopi

now, here's another one we don't know much about! but i'll try my best either way (i just want to contribute to the lack of attention him and bono get in these spaces.) he's another somewhat normal one, he also doesn't strike me as the type to be the absolute worst, but still is apart of a troupe of murderers and thieves.

similar to everyone else, he'll steal and kill for you (idk if this guy even has a body count but lets pretend he does.) and is a lot more open to being vulnerable than some other members.

now, nine times out of ten you'll be taller than him because this guy is even shorter than feitan, so, he'll definitely be wearing your t-shirts and hoodies, and he ain't complaining about it!

and eventually, he dies, now, honestly, something told you that kortopi seemed... like the odd one out when it came to the troupe, he doesn't seem like the type to be apart of... that! you better hope that hisoka doesn't care about you, or things are gonna turn ugly faster than you can blink.

uvogin

he's big (as hell), but he's sweeter (you know why they're in bold italics) than the others twice his size.

physically the strongest, you're rather lucky to have him has your partner, if someone won't stop messing with you, they're dead within a millisecond, or at least scared off since you know.. he isn't exactly built like the average guy and having someone that's eight foot fucking two walking up on you not really excited to see you is quite terrifying, depending on his mood they'll sometimes get away.... sometimes.

enough of that, how is it like when it's just the two of you? sitting on the couch or laying in bed watching movies together, his arm around you, it's basically a pillow! a hard ass pillow at that.

not the most vulnerable, he's not some weird incel who see's women as sex toys or anything, he's decently capable of being in a normal relationship, you won't see each other often sadly, but when you do, he'll pay 95% of his attention towards you, he'll even let you know straight up that he won't know when he'll get back, but he will! ... until he doesn't..

ah yes, his death at the hands of kurapika, how will you react? hell, how would kurapika react to your existence? something tells me that kurapika might kill you too, send you right off with him, or, in a rather strange twist of events, he might try to fuck you and take you to the other side, not in the way of barging into your house and straight up non con, nah, more like a get to know you then get in your pants type of way, uvo won't be there to protect you now would he? of course the latter is highly unlikely, but to be honest it's kind of fun to think about.

and now that you think of it... you don't even know what uvo was doing or where he was going, you choose how you want to react to how you found out about his troupe business.

shizuku

another woman! she's similar to another person right below her! she looks cute, but she's anything but!...... sort of.

she's not the best or worst partner, she's pretty normal, a bit distant but it's not something you can't manage, maybe she just needs some space and you're overwhelming her, but something that really gets to you is her forgetfulness.

at first, she'll forget things such as your birthday or your anniversary, but going further into the relationship, she becomes less and less forgetful (she might even remember things that you don't even remember.)

what exactly do you guys do together? well, she does try to partake in your interests, and does try to get things you like!

franklin

he's similar to uvo, he's big, he's actually nicer than he appears.

what makes him so low is.. well to be honest i don't know, i don't feel like he could be high up but not so low, so, this is the perfect spot for him.

for one he does have a bit of an anger problem, not as bad as phinks, but he doesn't mind a slight argument, good thing he wont assault you, and is quick to make up for the argument.

i don't know how to write him, so, please forgive me for how small this passage is. :(

shalnark

we're starting to get into uh... strange territory, he looks kind, and seems normal, but he's anything but that, he's not the most toxic but he also isn't the most caring and understanding either, similar to nobunaga he's kind of an enigma.

he's a love bomber and very good at manipulating, definitely takes advantage of his rather cute looks, he'll figure out what you're insecure about and compliment those things specifically, i do think he is capable of loving someone genuinely, but he sometimes does things without realizing that they aren't really normal, maybe he's getting his troupe personality mixed up with the one he has with you.

he does come off as sweet at first, brings you flowers and takes you on some rather expensive dates (an uncanny feeling creeps up on you about how the waiters act, but you don't pay much attention to it.) and sometimes he's more distant and a little bit aloof, you take this as him needing his space.

he's not abusive, but he isn't the absolute best partner, there's definitely better out there.

his death doesn't hit you as hard as the others but it was still devastating, you best hope hisoka doesn't come for you, and if he does, you hope he swiftly kills you, because you really don't want this murder clown to take an interest to you.

phinks

phinks is another one 'that's kind of odd to me, i don't want to judge a book by its cover and say "yeah he's a piece of shit!!" but again, he's a lot better in comparison to anyone below.

he's similar to shalnark in quite a few ways, one, he does things that kind of makes you think he's a bit of an odd ball, he's intimidating to look at and is the second strongest physically in the troupe, so you're lucky to have someone like him if you're looking for protection.

i don't see him as the type to take you out to fancy restaurants and bring you flowers, stuff like that is a bit too sappy for him, he shows other ways like giving you thinks you like or taking you to like carnivals or other fun events.

his main problem is his anger issues, he won't physically harm you especially if you don't use nen, but he's not above arguing with or yelling at you, he doesn't do it often, but he might call you an idiot or a bitch if you take him to that point.

the relationship is somewhat normal besides that.

chrollo

chrollo is weird, some say he's loving, caring, blah blah blah while some might say he's the exact opposite.

for one he is charming, he's a relatively good looking man, he's intelligent, and is looking for someone who's also intelligent.

i feel like chrollo definitely has a type, he likes people who are elegant, he wants someone that'll make him look good while he's in public, he doesn't care much for how people view the relationship outside of that, he also looks for someone with a personality he doesn't want someone who looks good yes, but is boring to be around, someone he can have a deep conversation with and talk about his interests with.

for one, you will not know about the troupe's existence, until he is 100% ready to tell you, which will definitely take a while, but he's confident that the troupe and himself will protect you from anyone who tries to avenge.

now, what makes him so low on this list? well, he's quite manipulative, a gaslighter, too, what do you mean you saw me with another woman? it's all for business, i'm just trying to steal her nen ability.

he does want to be a good partner, but this relationship is kind of a "too good to be true" type, something is happening behind closed doors and the thought is too persistent to ignore.

illumi

this guy is... strange, for one, his beady ass eyes make him look like a bug (affectionately), and section.. his very warped perception of what love even is.

i agree with the fandom that he has a breeding kink no doubt, his intention on dating is marriage, and you will bear his children, no ifs, ands or buts.

you'll meet his family but you'll never meet the troupe, he doesn't want you getting involved in fighting (he might have someone teach you some basic self protection) because he doesn't want you to die, that'll fuck with him... kind of, you're basically trapped in the mansion.

his overprotection is toxic on its own, you don't have that much freedom, you can't go shopping unless he's with you (or if he can't be there, one of his servants will accompany you), you're never truly alone unless he's away, and when he's here, things are no better, he's distant and cold, there's not much to talk about with him, sure, he loves you, but doesn't know how to express it much.

machi

one out of three toxic ass individuals, one of them consists of machi.

lets start off with the fact that she's cold hearted, as hell, if you cry in front of her she'll look at you like you're crazy, if she's really in that mood she'll tell you that you look stupid and you need to suck it up.

not good with physical touch or romance, who knows how the two of you managed to continue the relationship, she does leave flowers for you but won't tell you that they're from her, won't admit that she's the one who got them for you.

i feel like similar to a certain clown, she won't care much for you if you aren't either powerful or capable of protecting yourself in some way.

but all she's really doing is putting up barriers, she's actually caring in her own weird way, she'll still be there for you, patch up your wounds if you managed to get cut or stabbed and would probably mourn your death.

hisoka

were getting lower, and a certain sadist who loves torture is worse, but somehow, hisoka is slightly better than him in some way or another.

for one, hisoka probably won't be that interested in you if you aren't powerful, it would be worse if you were a regular civilian, he'll take that as an opportunity to take advantage of you sexually, physically, psychologically and mentally, and the relationship will be literal hell..

but, lets say you are pretty powerful, dare i say a troupe member yourself, he won't be as interested in fighting you as much as he would chrollo, but he would be interested in... other ways.

how you managed to get into a relationship with this freak is unclear, but you two one day just.. hooked up, and it all goes downhill from here.

he has no problem killing you if he gets tired of you, he already killed two and plans on killing the rest of the spiders, why not kill another? especially you? or, in an alternate scenario where he does manage to kill off all the spider, you're the only one who's left, this can go two ways, one, he can fuck you one last time then kill you, or, he takes you with him! if you managed to have a lasting impression on him, that is.

outside of sex, he just isn't a good partner, he's probably the only one on this list that's probably willing to cheat on you (don't you dare get back at him, both you and your lover will die) he's manipulative as hell, he doesn't necessarily care about how you feel and he'll provoke you just to get a reaction out of you.

feitan

and last but not least, feitan, oh boy, good luck to you for managing to have this man attracted to you. (im a feitan girlie, so this one might be a big longer than the rest)

for one, he'll hate your rotten guts for making him feel this way, for making him feel so weak, so emotional... he might even contemplate on killing you, but when that time comes he can't bring himself to do it.

i don't want to say yandere is his default since he doesn't really know how to properly love, because i do think he has some potential, but it does make sense for him, because there has to be something about you that makes you interested in him, maybe you're his polar opposite? maybe you're also a sadist?

he's not the most romantic partner, he doesn't want to come off as vulnerable, or sappy, so, what considers as a date to him? he's the type to probably take you to a cemetery at night as a form of a date.

he will not allow the troupe to know you or you to know them, for one he's going to be teased from hell and back for finally managing to pull someone and second while it appears that he doesn't care for you much, him protecting you from them is his way of showing you that he cares.

he can't find himself being vulnerable, he might teach you his language if you're up for it, and he might bring you some things he knows you like, but thats kind of it, also he won't force you to see him torture people.. unless you betray him in a way.

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mead-iocre · 4 months

Text

Brown Eyes | Jessie Fleming x Reader

Brown Eyes.

You and Jessie have been dating for a little over a year now. When you transferred to Chelsea you were quickly charmed by the shy Canadian, who on one of your earlier training sessions, welcomed you to the team with a ball to your face.

Hearing “Heads up!!” should’ve given you more than enough warning, but you were so focused on your own drills that you did not think that the warning was directed at you, nor were you expecting the sheer force of the ball hitting you right on the side of your head.

As soon as the ball made impact you came barrelling down to ground, luckily just about managing to roll yourself over to your side to land safely without injuring yourself any further.

“Fuck! I am so sorry. Are you okay?”

You hear the voice coming closer and the sound of their cleats pushing into the grass before you feel them drop down to crouch beside you. You wince as a warm hand lands on the arm currently nursing the side of your head. Your eyes squint as the throbbing continues, trying to take steady breaths to alleviate the dizziness that’s starting to take over your head. A dull ache settled behind your eyes, making it difficult to focus. The training ground around you felt slightly off-kilter, as if gravity had momentarily lost its grip. You attempted to push yourself up, only to be met with a wave of dizziness that forced you to slump back down.

“The medics are coming, don’t move” You squeeze your eyes closed a few times in pain. The dull throbbing in your head making it hard for you to identify who is talking to you, but the accent makes it pretty distinguishable.

“Jessie?” The Canadian with the freckles and the pretty brown eyes.

“Yeah. It was me. Sorry about that y/n” Said brown eyes meet yours, concern and guilt swimming in them. However, there’s more to her eyes– something so alluring and captivating about hers. Amber with the smallest hits of green under certain lights, but under others her eyes are like expressive palettes of cocoa, a special treat for those lucky enough to gaze into them.

Warm, tender and familiar.

You avert your eyes away from hers quickly when you notice you were staring a little too long, the headache still a dull drum, nagging and incessant. It would be weird to memorise the exact Pantone shade of one of your newest teammate’s eyes so you instead focus on the rest of her. The Chelsea midfielder’s cheeks are flushed red, as she struggles slightly to catch her breath, clearly having ran the entire length of the pitch to get to you.

“Sorry I–“

“s’alright. Just a slight knock” You grin at her— or at least you hope you are grinning and not looking like you were about to pass out at any minute now.

“a slight knock, eh?” She’s cute. Very cute. And very Canadian

Before you had a chance to quip back, you were surrounded by the medics. They assess you, going through all the steps to make sure there were no signs of anything serious. They poke and prob at you before concluding that the only thing you’ll suffer from is a sore bump on the side of your head and a lingering headache.

The entire time Jessie was stood by you, refusing to leave even when the medics and the coaching staff assured her that you were in good hands. She insisted that she stay with you.

And she did.

After that incident, you and Jessie were practically inseparable. The quiet, reserved brown eyed girl that you had first met was now the girl that you would sit next to on the bus, partner up with during drills, and have front row seats to her entertaining dry sense of humour.

A few months later, Jessie finally found the courage to ask you out on a date— and of course you had agreed. On your first date, Jessie took you to a farmers market where there were stalls and stalls of seasonal foodstuffs from artisan and local producers. You had the most perfect day with her, stopping at almost every stall to taste the samples that vendors leave out. You and Jessie barely let go of each other’s hands the entire day, much preferring to walk side by side and hadn’t in hand. If you weren’t holding hands, Jessie’s hand was a comforting touch on your lower back or around your waist.

Occasionally, you would take your phone out from your bag to snap a picture, wanting to document all the cool foods and the pretty flower stalls. You knew Jessie wasn’t too fond of the camera; however, it seemed like every time she noticed your phone in your hand, she would smile at you, even striking a pose or two at times, clearly showing that she didn’t mind you taking pictures of her.

“Cute” You mumble, mostly to yourself, after you snap a photo of Jessie drinking her iced coffee.

“Did you say something, baby?” The brunette steps closer to you, personal space be damned, and wraps an arm around your waist.

You grin down at her as you click the lock button on your phone, sliding it back into your bag. You take a moment to focus on the girl in front of you, appreciating her warm brown eyes, her pretty freckles, her rosy cheeks, and the little flyaway hairs that would not stay down no matter how many times she fix her hair.

You bring a hand up to cup her cheek, turning it away from you slightly, before you whisper “I said you’re cute” against the soft skin, pecking multiple kisses before planting your lips against her cheek for one more big kiss.

“Gimme one here” Jessie turns her head towards you, her eyes closed and a small pout already on her lips.

You bite your lip at how adorable she looks, so different from the aloof girl you met months ago. You must’ve taken longer than she wanted because she opens her eyes and playfully squints up at you. “you gonna kiss me or what?”

You gently squish her cheeks together with one hand, her lips forming a cute little pout. “how ‘bout a bit of patience, cheeky girl” You press a wet kiss right on her still-puckered lips, moving your hand from her cheeks to cup the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

If you had to list one of your favourite pastimes it was making out with your girlfriend. For someone so shy at first, Jessie wasn’t afraid of PDA— anytime, anywhere. She is always the one initiating affection, not caring about who may be watching. Jessie always had an arm over your shoulder, a hand placed on your lower back, or a grip on your waist.

Pulling away slowly, to savour the kiss, you open your eyes to pretty brown gazing up into yours. In her gaze, a story unfolds, framed by orbs of enchanting brown. A cascade of warmth, like autumn's embrace, like the coffee she solemnly drinks, like the muted shade of her hair against the morning light.

It’s comfort, it’s love and it’s Jessie.

You often wonder how it would be like to see the world through her eyes, but if you were to ask the Canadian she would say you could see a glimpse of her entire world reflected if you simply looked into her eyes— You.

currently obsessed with jessie fleming and as a result: this.

stay warm, my loves

--- butter

#jessie fleming #woso #woso fanfics #jessie fleming imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso community #jessie fleming x reader

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azul-marie · 1 year

Text

ada. (enamour)

fem. reader. love rivalry including ada/reader/leon. (focus on reader)

something cold digs in between your shoulder blades, sending shivers up tense muscles.

it’s a sudden sensation. catches you off guard you forget to call out to leon, whose back is turned to you whilst sifting through paper files laying across an abandoned wooden desk. the latest room you’ve snuck into seemed abandoned enough — save for its open window rocking back and forth on screeching bolts. they must’ve entered through there mere seconds before the two of you did.

warm, sweet breath tickles your earlobe. another round of shivers overtake your senses. this time, through, you recover quickly enough to react.

your hand flies to your pocketed blade and in an instant is pressed up to their throat. it is then you realize, recognize who your company is. she smiles serenely at you, acting like the knife at her neck isn’t sharp enough to slice through bone. she bears her pistol with all the grace of someone who’s caught you in her web, not the other way around.

“long time no see, kitten.”

her deadpan voice practically echoes through the silence of the night. finally surprising your partner into turning around. what surprises him further is the way ada gazes at you, almost identical to the way she did at him all those years ago.

“ada.” leon says plainly, hand hovering over his own pistol. his eyes flicker between the two of you, to the way your hand fumbles with your blade, to how she smiles a little too suggestively for someone being threatened. he’s certain you’re about to push her down, or for her to knock the knife away from your obviously loosened grip — neither happen.

instead, you carefully tuck your blade away and greet her with a coy smile of your own.

“i wasn’t expecting you here, red.” your arms cross, a guard of sorts. you knew full well of the games she liked to play. she holds your eyes as she slips her pistol back in its holster, searching for something you refuse to show. it’s been a long time, indeed, but you still remember how to compose yourself around her. it’s all rather flattering.

ada circles you, trailing her fingertips over your shoulders. her silky touch is the only weapon in her grasp, but it is perhaps her most dangerous. she takes pleasure in the way you shift beneath her watch, how your pretty face fights to remain mild. she’s no fool. she sees the smile playing at those luscious lips of yours — why bother hiding it? she’s all sultry eyes just for you, now that she’s finally managed to separate your stuffy partner’s hip from yours. seems he hadn’t changed after all. he really was the clingy type.

it was cute. once. not when he happened to be clingy with you of all people.

“once i heard you were around, i just couldn’t help myself.” her arm comes to rest around the curve of your waist. her fingers press into the flesh of your hip, easing you closer. her lips hover over the soft of your neck, almost kissing a path up to your ear. your breathing stutters, and she purrs, “wanted to stop by and catch up with my favorite girl, is all.”

you scoff, but there’s no stopping the heat rising up and over your face. those pretty lips of yours finally turn up in a smile, bashful like a schoolgirl crush. the temptation to run her thumb over your bottom lip runs strong — until an awkward, intentional clear of a throat interrupts the thought.

“i’d appreciate if you left my partner alone.” leon interjects, striding to stand tall besides you. in a swift motion he interweaves your elbows together and pulls you towards him, at once halting the hold she had on you. it’s a comfortable, possessive sort of touch. how quaint. cute little leon, still wearing his heart on his sleeve.

given the way his hand clamps around yours, he must really have it bad. what a shame. for him.

ada is slow to drag her eyes away from you. she even runs them up, down, over your lovely body for good measure. she can’t have leon thinking she isn’t willing to compete — two can play at that game. his fuming glower tells her he’s gotten the message loud and clear. as he should. she zeros in on the way his grip tightens around yours, again, cozily touching you as if you were his.

a quirk of her brow suggests ire. “glad to see you, leon. to think, after all this time, you’re still such a lucky man. who would’ve thought she’d end up being your partner?”

the two of them stare each other down with such intensity you wonder what other history they share aside from you. tension seeps into the chill of the nighttime air. leon’s coiled up so tightly it raises worry, and you find yourself wrapping your arms around his bicep to placate him. for all you know, the mysterious plagas infecting him could thrive off stress, and he’s already had plenty of that so far.

almost immediately does your touch have him redirecting his notice towards you. his intense gaze softens at your pretty eyes studying him. his broad shoulders gradually relax in your embrace. he’s visibly calmed by the simple act, much to ada’s amusement — and her vexation. her fingertips dig into her palms, wishing it was your hands beneath them instead.

“ada, why are you really here?” you inquire, and she’s pleased when you finally set sights back on her. she’s not fond of the questioning, however. she purses her lips. her expression morphs into a cautious neutral. you’re aware you won’t be getting a direct answer, no matter how much she likes you.

ada sighs, “oh, sweetheart. you know i don’t work and tell.”

guarded, she saunters to the opposite end of the room to the very window she slithered in through, overlooking the bleak scenery with little interest. you slip past leon to follow after her, grasping her fingers to keep her from going any further. pleasant warmth seeps through from your fingertips to hers. there’s no time to relish it, although she longs to feel more. calculating eyes regard you and you alone.

“leave the girl,” demands ada. “she’s lost no matter what. you walk away now…and who knows? maybe you’ll live to meet me again.”

keeping her eyes locked on yours, she brings your hand to her lips, and presses a languid kiss across your knuckles. a stain of red now marks you as hers. play glimmers in her irises. “…maybe i’ll even take you on that date i promised.”

“you think we’re gonna give up that easy?” leon’s voice cuts in, weighed with barely contained venom.

“right.” ada exhales a laugh. how true. the two of you really are perfect for one another. hearts of gold, heads full of dreams. she turns towards a silently seething leon, whose eyes pierce her every move. he does a poor job at hiding his envious glare towards your entwined hands. “how about we continue this discussion another time?”

she drops your hand unceremoniously, in favor of pressing a kiss to your cheek. the pulse of your racing heart is nearly tangible. such a sweet girl, flustered by a simple kiss. longing parts her lips in their journey up to your ear to whisper, “stay safe, beautiful.” she pulls away with an air of nonchalance, committing to memory the clear look of shock she’s frozen you into. it takes all she has not to go back in for another kiss, for there’s no knowing where her lips will land if she does.

“keep her safe for me, will you, leon? she’s really quite precious, you know.”

and just like that, she’s gone.

you nearly stumble towards the creaking window for a vain glimpse into the night she’s disappeared through. half shocked, half mortified of your audience still gaping at you, you could only hope he wasn’t put off by the instance of his flirty adversary. or the fact you had no quarrels in encouraging her.

a hand wraps around yours, warm and tight.

“careful. leaning out a little too far there, don’t you think?”

leon sounds rather relieved now that it’s back to being the two of you. ada must’ve been a sore sight for whatever reasons he’s held within. you avoid his eyes to recollect yourself, murmuring apologies beneath your breath.

then, a touch upon your cheek, the very one she’d kissed, puts a stop to all thoughts. your eyes flutter up towards leon’s. his usually somber expression has turned sour, scowling and scorned in a way you’re unfamiliar with. his hand cups your face, thumb frantically rubbing off what must be a lipstick stain ada’s left behind. the intensity of his eyes only adds to your embarrassment, makes you wish he hadn’t seen her in the first place. maybe then he wouldn’t be upset, angry with the ghost of her presence.

“here i thought luis would be my only problem.” leon mutters, so softly you’d mistaken he’d spoken at all. when he notices the shift in your pretty eyes, the sweetsoft concern that struck him weak, his gaze mellows instantly, and he blinks rapidly as if coming out of a daze. rose pink springs across his face in a blooming blush, a bigger surprise than his supposed anger. he rips his hand away upon realizing himself, leaving you curious.

“i mean—i meant, she’s the last person i expected to run into here. it’s—it’s a long story. won’t bore you with it. just know she’s probably not worth trusting completely. it’s best you’re careful around her. i’d hate…i wouldn’t want you hurt.”

his voice goes quiet at the end. his head is turned away, body tight and tense, hands fiddling with the holsters of his weapons. it isn’t like leon to speak so personally. so openly about his emotions. and you know it isn’t because of ada’s mere presence, what must be a recollection of the past.

you touch your cheek, still warm from his skin.

“you’re the one i trust, leon. we came here together, and we’re leaving together. i’m with you until the end.”

courage overtakes bashful notions. you close in beside him, reach up to push a lock of his hair behind his ear. cup his shying face, a tender encouragement to share his vulnerability with you. leon’s eyes fall back on yours too easily, too swiftly for a simple friendship. you see it; he is incapable of masking it.

it’s somewhat of an honor he’s so fond of you. it’s a reminder to be gentle with his feelings, though you yourself may not have yours sorted out just yet. but it is ascertained that you care immensely for him, perhaps in the way he’d like you to. perhaps not. there’s plenty of time to work things out.

“i’m with you, ace.” you smile, tugging his cheek until he returns one of his own. “there’s no one else i’d rather have beside me. got it?”

leon nods, convinced. “yeah. thanks.”

you pay a playful pat to his cheek, satisfied with his answer. “good, good. now, why don’t we get moving? we wouldn’t want to keep miss ashley waiting. what were we even looking for in the first place? some kind of key?”

the mention of the mission reinvigorates him. “yeah, exactly. should be somewhere around here, if you can help me look.”

“sure! let’s just hope we can get by without someone interrupting again.”

“wouldn’t that be nice.” scoffs leon, slipping his fingers through yours to lead you back towards the other half of the room. this habit of wanting you close was really too cute. willingly do you allow him to take your hand as he pleases.

all the while you will your heart not to flutter at the lipstick still staining the other, red on red alike.

#resident evil 4 imagines #re4 imagines #resident evil imagines #re imagine #resident evil x reader #re4 x reader #ada wong imagines #ada wong x reader #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #i’m so glad i finally wrote this LET’S GOOOO #i. am. SICK. so sick of being “jealous” of ada in fics. like…yall see her too right? she’s gorgeous and morally ambiguous right???#so why can’t she flirt with ME?? why be jealous when we can be in LOVE??? why not let her desire ME carnally for once?? leon? i hardly know #anywho. jealous ada + reader fics just don’t mesh w/ me personally!! perhaps because i’m not a naturally jealous person haha #but ada and leon being incredibly jealous of each other + fighting over us though? hell yeah sister

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igncrxntripley · 1 year

Text

their secret weapon: tag team

synopsis: rhea and damian take turns having their way with y/n.

tags: NSFW 18+, oral, poly!judgement day, dom!damian, dom!rhea, sub!reader, fem!reader, multiple partners, kissing

A/N: you wanted smut? i’ll give you smut. let this hold you over while i work on some fluff.

mentions: @babybatlover @ripleyswhore

“I fucking hate both of you.” Y/N mumbled to her partners who spent the last fifteen minutes absolutely torturing her. Damian held her back to his chest, his muscular arms wrapped tightly around her upper body with her fingers interlocked with his. Rhea was on her stomach between Y/n’s legs, her arms wrapped around her thighs to keep them open as her mouth worked its magic against their girlfriend. Every time Y/N squirmed, Damian would only hold her tighter; in the beginning she was doing it to piss him off, but now it was only getting Y/N more frustrated as they both kept her on edge and teased her.

Rhea chuckled at her words, making her only hold Y/N tighter. “You say that but you’re fuckin’ soaked, babygirl.” She mumbled. Damian hummed and squeezed her closer to his chest. “She’s got a point, mi amor. Every time I look down at you you’re blushing…and I’m pretty sure I just watched you try to fuck Rhea’s face for the last five minutes.” He laughed, making you whine and arch your back to try and break free of his hold. Did you really want him to let go? No. But it was fun to have him hold you even tighter as if you were only there to be The Judgement Day’s little toy.

Y/N turned her face to hide in Damian’s neck as Rhea’s mouth only worked overtime to keep her on edge. “Awww, is someone shy?” Damian teased and kissed your forehead. Rhea laughed against Y/N’s clit, making their fifth member whine at the vibration. “I can’t handle how fuckin’ adorable she is.” Rhea pulled back and started to use her thumb to rub Y/N’s clit in circles, making her whine even louder. “Please! Please let me finish…I-I need it…” she mumbled into Damian’s neck. Both of her partners cooed at her, Damian squeezing her hands as she begged. “That’s cute, princess. Really. But I think it’s time we switch things up.”

Damian let go of her upper body as Rhea let go of her thighs, the two of them switching spots so seamlessly Y/N almost didn’t even realize what happened. Rhea was now holding her to her chest and Damian was settled between her legs, the two of them holding and torturing Y/N the exact same ways. “Fuck both of you!” Y/N whimpered and struggled against Rhea’s hold; Damian had already started using his mouth, starting by leaving marks on her thighs that he just knew Finn and Dominik were going to be jealous of later. “It’s actually super cute how frustrated you are.” Rhea said before leaving a kiss to Y/N’s temple.

Damian’s mouth had started to trail up to Y/N’s center, making her thighs tremble out of anticipation. “Please don’t tease?” She begged softly, squeezing Rhea’s hands and hiding in her girlfriend’s neck. Rhea laughed right back at her and rested their foreheads together. “It’s cute how nicely you ask…we wanna hear more though.” Y/N groaned as Damian hummed against her, his mouth only working even harder now that Rhea was getting her to beg.

Y/N whimpered at her words, slowly grinding against Damian’s face and trying to come up with the words that could convince them both to make her cum. “Please…please, Daddy? Can you and Papi please let me cum?” Damian growled at that name; Y/N knew exactly what nerves to hit with both of them, and it was clear that it was working. Damian looked up at his girls, Y/N smirking into Rhea’s neck as she moaned and Rhea’s arms squeezing their girl even tighter.

“You heard her, Rhea.” Damian mumbled against her, pulling Y/N’s lower half even closer to his face as he looked at Rhea. “I think we let her cum.” Y/n squealed at Damian’s words and looked up at their girlfriend. “Oh fuck, please please please? He said I could!” Rhea smirked and pulled Y/N into a kiss. “Cum if you want it that badly.” She mumbled.

It only took another minute or so before Y/N allowed herself to cum. She had a satisfied smirk on her face as she finally let it go, arching her back off of Rhea’s chest with a loud moan leaving her lips. Damian let his grasp on her go a little loose and Y/N tightened her thighs around his head in response. “Thank you thank you…!” She whimpered as Damian worked her through it, eventually relaxing against Rhea’s chest and Damian coming up to pull both of them into a kiss.

“I can’t believe you just tag teamed me like that.” Y/N mumbled as her cheeks turned bright pink. Rhea laughed and kissed her temple. “What else were we gonna do? Let one person have all the fun?”

#wwe the judgement day #wwe the judgement day imagine #wwe imagine #wwe x reader #rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley imagine #rhea ripley headcanons #rhea ripley smut #damian priest #damian priest x reader #damian preist imagine #damian priest headcanons #damian priest smut #wwe smut #{:their secret weapon:}#{:rhea ripley:}#{:damian priest:}#{:smut:}

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steddieas-shegoes · 9 months

Note

Request: wrong number au, Eddie texts Gareth something personal but puts in 1 wrong number & ends up texting Steve. The two of them hit it off & start chatting & then when they meet IRL they are completely head over heels in love & its cute as fuck

MY LOVE MY LOVE MY LOVE!!! LOVE A GOOD WRONG NUMBER AU!!! I can't believe I've never written it before now. I also had to actually include Gareth because I am actually obsessed with him lately, and I just think it's really neat that we can make these characters our own. This was such a fun and cute request! I didn't do the inappropriate route because I thought this was hilarious so sorry about that. I made up for it with something else! - Mickala ❤️

----------------------------------------------------------

GARE BEAR! You won’t believe it but i dropped my phone in a sewer. Lost everything.

He had never been so happy about having his closest friends’ numbers memorized. His phone was somewhere under the streets of Chicago, floating through dirty water and sewage, dying a slow and painful death.

He texted everyone else one at a time, let them know he had a new number and to completely delete the old one because it would never be recovered.

They were used to things like this happening; He lost his phone annually at this point and it was cheaper just to get a new number than transfer everything to a new one.

He went to dial Wayne, the old school part of him insisting on phone calls instead of texts still, when Gareth’s name popped up with a new text.

Not sure who Gare Bear is, but sorry about your phone. That’s shitty.

Eddie let out a loud laugh.

did you mean to make a pun?

Did it make you laugh?

yes

Then yes.

Eddie sat down on a bench, entirely focused on his conversation with this stranger.

Did you find your Gare Bear yet?

Not yet but i think i’m pretty happy talking to you for now

Smooth, Eddie.

Admittedly, he was in a hell of a dry spell.

Going on almost two years, actually.

A little flirting with a stranger never hurt anybody, not when he clearly needed some practice.

Not sure if your Gare Bear would like it very much though

Wait, what?

Eddie stared at his phone, trying to comprehend what that could mean. Why would Gareth not want him talking to a stranger?

I hope you find your partner though!

Oh.

Oh!

Eddie hit the call button in the corner before he could even register what he was doing.

“Hello?”

Oh no, he sounded hot.

“Hi. So, Gareth is very much not my partner. He probably actually wishes I would really forget his number,” Eddie rushed out.

“Um. Okay?”

“He’s been my best friend for ten years and he thinks I’m a mess. Not a partner,” Eddie further clarified.

“Got it. Not a partner.”

“Yes, exactly.”

They stayed silent for a moment before Eddie coughed.

“I’m Eddie, by the way.”

“Steve. Sorry about your phone, seriously that sucks,” he sounded genuinely apologetic, like he personally threw Eddie’s phone in the sewer.

“Oh, no big deal. I lose my phone more often than I go out with someone,” Eddie said.

Why did he say that?

Steve let out a laugh and it was like music.

Eddie couldn’t help the smile taking over his face at his laugh, already knew he wasn’t gonna be able to let this guy go without learning more about him.

“So you’re, what? Celibate?” Steve asked.

“Far from it. Well, maybe not far from it. Temporarily, maybe. It’s been a while,” Eddie admitted.

“How long?” Steve asked, a loud bang coming from his end of the phone. “Sorry, I had to go outside for some privacy.”

Eddie wasn’t going to read into that. He wasn’t.

“Two years give or take. I mean I’m not counting shitty dates that ended before they got worse. So, yeah. Two years.”

“Been a year for me, but. Yeah, I get it. My last relationship didn’t end on the best terms. She decided I was too in love with her I guess,” Steve sighed, voice sounding pained.

She.

Steve was probably straight.

There was no way he’d be lucky enough for Steve to like men.

Or for Steve to like him.

“I can’t really imagine breaking up with someone because they loved me too much. I’m usually the one who falls too hard,” Eddie admitted.

“Yeah, well, same here,” Steve sounded sad, a bit withdrawn.

Eddie wanted to hear him laugh again.

“I doubt either of us have ever fallen as hard as my phone did down a drain,” Eddie said sadly.

Steve let out a loud laugh and Eddie smiled.

“This might sound crazy, but I’m kind of glad your phone decided to live in the sewers,” Steve said when he finally calmed down. “And maybe a little too happy that you typed your friend’s number wrong.”

“Oh really? Why’s that?”

Was this flirting? Was he successfully having a flirtatious conversation with a potentially very hot guy?

“So I can be bold and ask if you maybe wanted to meet up somewhere?” Steve asked hesitantly.

“So you’re in Chicago?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“For the last five years, yeah.”

“You busy tonight?”

Eddie’s heart stopped.

He was really going to meet up with a stranger just because he liked his laugh and hoped he was hot.

He’d done more with less.

“Yeah, actually. I’m getting dinner with this guy I accidentally texted,” Eddie smirked, looking down at his feet.

“Dinner? What a lucky guy. Where are you going?” Steve sounded amused.

“Well, it depends on what he likes. I’ve been craving some pierogies. Ever been to Staropolska?” Eddie asked.

Gareth’s family owned it, and he used to eat there two or three times a week while they were in college, usually working off his bill in the kitchen doing dishes after.

He hadn’t been in a couple months, work keeping him busy and his budget being pretty tight when he moved into a studio apartment by himself.

He had enough to treat himself tonight though.

“The one on Milwaukee? Yeah. One of my favorite places to get devolay,” Steve sounded surprised that he knew it.

“You won’t believe this, but the friend I was trying to text when I got you, his family owns that place.”

“No way! Then we have to. We owe it to the guy who has almost my exact phone number,” Steve responded.

“Meet you there at seven?” Eddie asked, suddenly more nervous.

“Seven sounds good.”

“Okay.”

Steve giggled. Eddie fell in love.

“We should probably hang up.”

“Should we?” Eddie asked, not wanting to stop talking to him yet.

“Yes, I have to do my hair. Gotta impress the guy who drops his phone in the sewer and texts strangers about it.”

“He sounds like a loser. Don’t put too much effort in,” Eddie sighed. “But okay. See you at seven.”

“See you then.”

They both stayed on the line for a minute.

“Okay. For real. Bye,” Steve laughed.

“Bye, Stevie.”

He hung up before he could convince himself to talk to him for the rest of the afternoon.

He breathed out a loud sigh, smiling as he realized he had a date.

He dialed Gareth’s real number immediately.

“Gareth, I have a date!”

“What is this number, Eddie?”

“Oh, I dropped my phone in the sewers. Not important. I have a date!”

“Jesus Christ. Okay. Come over then.”

—-----------------------------------

Gareth had been his pre-date hype man since high school, though he wasn’t very good at it.

Mostly he calmed Eddie’s nerves and helped make sure his hair didn’t look like he just woke up, which was often its unfortunate state of being.

“So, you don’t know this guy,” Gareth said from his bed.

“No.”

“And you talked for like two seconds and decided you’re in love with him,” he continued.

“Yes.”

“And you think this is totally normal and sane?”

“I didn’t say that. But we just…I dunno. We clicked. I haven’t been that at ease with someone in a long time. It felt natural,” Eddie fell back on his bed, starfishing so his arm and leg hit Gareth’s legs.

“Dude, I’m not discouraging it. I’m happy for you. I just don’t want you to be disappointed if it isn’t as easy when you meet,” Gareth said softly.

“Yeah, thanks. I think it’ll be okay, though.”

“Alright. Tell babcia I’m coming by tomorrow for lunch.”

Eddie sat up and gave Gareth a quick hug.

“Thanks Gare Bear!”

—-------------------------------------------

He arrived 20 minutes early so he could sneak in the back to say hi to Gareth’s grandmother, who still insisted on getting her hands on the food every day for a couple of hours despite being nearly 80 years old.

“Babcia!”

“Eddie! My kochany! You forget to visit and I forget what you look like!” she rushed over, flour and oil stains all over her apron.

He should have kept some distance so his shirt didn’t get ruined, but he ignored the part of his brain telling him to look perfect for his date so he could get a hug.

“You know I have to watch my money,” he said against her shoulder.

“And you know I feed you for free if you clean up after yourself. No excuse,” she pulled away and looked him over. “You look handsome. Why?”

Eddie put his hands on his hips.

“What? Don’t I always look handsome?”

“Of course, but this is different. Your hair is smooth and you smell like the perfume store,” she smirked. “Is it a girl? Or a boy? Or a someone?”

“It’s a boy. We’ve never met in person, so I wanted to make a good first impression,” he admitted.

“Oh! How lovely! What’s his name?” She was back to kneading dough, but kept her eyes on him.

“Steve. He actually has been here before, loves the devolay?”

Babcia froze.

“Steve? Oh goodness.” She turned to the sink and washed her hands, muttering under her breath about something.

Eddie’s heart sank. Babcia didn’t seem happy about this.

“What’s wrong? You know him?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Is he not a good guy? Has he been mean to you? I’ll call and cancel right now,” he insisted, reaching for his phone in his pocket.

“No, no. Nothing like that. He is a very sweet boy. He got broken up with in this restaurant a few months back. Tore me to pieces. He just sat here for hours crying. I moved him to a corner booth for his privacy and he left me a $100 tip and ever since then when he comes in I make sure to give him as many szarlotka as he wants.” She touched Eddie’s shoulder. “You be good to him. He has a nice heart.”

Eddie’s mind raced.

Why had Steve agreed to come here for a date if this is where he’d been broken up with? Why did he even bother coming back if it held such bad memories?

What if he didn’t see this as a date?

The front door chimed and he heard the employee at the front welcome someone.

“He will be good for you, drogi.”

Eddie nodded before making his way to the front, stopping in his tracks when he saw the most beautiful man he’d ever seen standing at the podium, talking to the employee with a smile.

“That’s him,” Babcia said from behind him. “Go get him.”

She shoved him forward, nearly making him trip, which caught the attention of Steve.

He looked over with a curious smile, and then realization seemed to hit him.

“Steve?” Eddie managed to ask, loud enough to be heard over the few full tables in the restaurant.

“Eddie?” he asked back, hesitantly moving towards him.

“I, um,” Eddie started, then cleared his throat. “I usually sit by the window, if that’s okay?”

“That’s perfect,” Steve nodded.

It was cliche, like the room around them closed into just them existing together, like the stars had aligned exactly right for this moment to happen.

They sat down at the table Eddie usually sat at, staring across the table at each other in slight awe.

Eddie really hoped that Steve was having the same feelings he was.

But one thing was stopping Eddie from being completely enraptured.

“Is this a date?” he asked suddenly.

“What?” Steve seemed surprised by his question. “I mean, yeah. I’d like it to be. I thought it was.”

Eddie nodded once, but remained quiet, thinking.

“Oh God, it wasn’t, was it? You were just being nice. What is it with this restaurant? If I didn’t love the food so much or babcia, I would never step foot here again, I swear-”

Eddie put his hand on Steve’s to calm him down, frown on his face.

“Woah. What?”

“I just. I don’t have the best history with dates here and I guess I didn’t learn the first time something bad happened, and now I’m being too much too fast again in this place and-”

Eddie pulled Steve’s hand up to his face, placing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“Stevie, calm down. This is a date. I’ll have as many dates here as you want to to get rid of whatever negative stuff you associate with this place. Babcia would hate that I ruined this place for you,” he said quietly.

Steve seemed to relax at his words.

And if you wanna tell me about what happened, you can. If it’ll help,” Eddie offered.

Before Steve could reply, Gareth’s cousin, Ben, came to take their order.

It was a quick order, both knowing exactly what they wanted, and then Steve looked back at him.

“It’s just. My last girlfriend, who I was with for almost three years, dumped me here. It was kind of out of the blue for me, and I had a really hard time that night.”

Eddie felt his heart break.

How could someone do that to Steve? He didn’t need to know him better to know that he didn’t deserve that, especially not if babcia had taken him under her wing so quickly.

“She must be awful to have let you go like that,” Eddie squeezed Steve’s hand in his, resisting the urge to go to his side of the table and hold him.

Steve shrugged and looked down at their hands.

“I mean, I should have known. She was never much for romance or spending time together that didn’t involve work or school. I was looking at engagement rings and she was looking at apartments to get away from me. I was just…really blinded by what I thought was love,” Steve smiled sadly at him.

“It wasn’t?”

“Well, it may have been a type of love. It was more comfort than anything. She was kind of all I had for the first year we were together, and I think I just ignored how unhealthy that was for both of us. And then I met Robin in college, and she was like the opposite of Nancy in every way. A few months before Nancy broke up with me, I told her that Robin’s parents kicked her out when she came out to them and that she needed a place to stay until we graduated. She agreed, then never made any attempt at getting to know her. And I didn’t read into it, Nancy isn’t like, super talkative with people she isn’t already close with, and Robin just kinda stayed to herself when Nancy was home.” Steve took a shaky breath. “But it turns out she didn’t bother getting to know her because she already knew she was gonna break up with me and leave the apartment to me and Robin, so.she just. Didn’t bother. Robin warned me, but I didn’t listen.”

Eddie wanted to cry.

Steve’s voice was full of pain, but not in a way that told him he still loved her, or still hoped they would get back together. More that she broke a part of him that he still hadn’t been able to fix no matter how hard he tried or wanted to.

“Was she jealous?” Eddie asked, trying so hard to understand what could have happened.

“I dunno. I mean, Robin’s a lesbian, and I definitely never had feelings for her anyway. Nancy was always so sure of herself, I can’t imagine she’d be jealous.”

“It sounds like she didn’t appreciate you very much.”

“What do you mean?” Steve didn’t sound mad, just curious.

“Well, she didn’t even make an effort to get to know your best friend, right? And it sounds like she was too busy focusing on her future to even think about what you looked like in it, and instead of trying to plan it with you, she made a future for her. She sounds a bit selfish,” Eddie shrugged.

Instead of being upset, Steve laughed.

God, Eddie loved that laugh.

“Sorry, it’s just that you sound exactly like Robin. You’d probably be two peas in a pod.”

“Tell me about her,” Eddie genuinely wanted to know more about the person who kept Steve going.

Their food arrived in the middle of the story of how Steve and Robin met, but it didn’t stop him from continuing.

Eddie listened with a fond smile, filling in Steve’s gaps of silence as he chewed a bite of food with questions or something related to what he’d been talking about.

It was easy.

It was fun.

Halfway through the meal, Steve’s foot rested against one of his and it felt like electricity shooting through his bones.

Eddie told him about Gareth, and his family who had pretty much adopted him when they both moved here from a small town in Indiana. He talked about his uncle who raised him for most of his life, who visited every Christmas despite being on a really tight budget.

Time passed quickly, but not at all.

They hadn’t realized how long they’d been sitting there until babcia came out without her apron to hand deliver an apple tart.

“You boys enjoy. I’ll see you both soon!” she said as she smacked a kiss on top of each of their heads.

Both of them blushed, but tried to cover it up with a bite of food.

As they finished, Steve looked outside to see how dark it was, how few people were left walking the streets.

“Guess we should head out,” he muttered, sounding like that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Would you wanna come to my place? We don’t have to do anything except talk, I promise. I just don’t really want this to end yet,” Eddie suggested.

“Really? I haven’t bored you?” Steve asked, just a hint of self-deprecation in his tone.

Eddie shook his head.

“Not at all. I’d really like to get a chance to love you the way you deserve,” Eddie said.

Steve’s eyes widened.

Eddie should back up, should say something less intense.

But if this ruined it, then at least he said what he was thinking.

“You think you could love me?” Steve asked, barely more than a whisper.

“I think I already do a little,” Eddie admitted.

Steve blinked at him for a moment, mouth slightly agape.

“I need to kiss you,” he finally said.

“Now? Here?” Eddie smiled.

“Now. Here.”

“I won’t stop you.”

Steve stood from the table and stood in front of Eddie, placing both hands on his cheeks and leaning down.

Their lips brushed in a barely-there kiss, softer than Eddie expected.

Steve stayed there for a moment, eyes closed, and Eddie couldn’t help the words tumbling from him.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

If someone had said it to him, he would think they were just trying to get him into their bed, but that wasn’t the case here and he hoped Steve knew that.

“People used to call me a charmer, but I don’t think I’m half as good at it as you,” Steve whispered, his breath ghosting against Eddie’s lips.

“Just honest.”

“Take me home,” Steve said, opening his eyes and staring at Eddie, his eyes glowing with something close to love.

—-------------------------------------

They stayed up all night, never doing more than kissing and mapping out patterns on each others’ skin.

They talked about everything, even the painful parts of life, even the parts that they hadn’t shared with anyone else.

It didn’t make any sense that someone who had been a stranger not even 24 hours ago could already mean so much.

When the sun started to shine through the curtains of Eddie’s apartment, Steve sighed and buried his face in Eddie’s neck.

“I have to go to work,” though he burrowed his entire body further into the bed and Eddie’s side.

“You could call in sick,” Eddie suggested, pressing a kiss to the top of Steve’s head.

“Robin would kill me.”

He and Robin worked together as team teachers at an elementary school. When one of them missed, it left the other with 34 kids alone.

Plus, Steve loved his job, worked hard to be a teacher, and hated missing a day if he didn’t need to.

“Maybe you could bring Robin here after work? I can make dinner?” Eddie’s job was pretty easy, marketing for an Indie record label based out of New York remotely really kept him busy for a couple hours a day and the rest of the time was spent writing his own music.

Steve sat up and looked down at him, his hair ruffled from Eddie running his fingers through it for the last eight hours.

“You’d wanna meet Robin?”

“Yeah, if you want me to. She sounds like fun.”

Steve started crying.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you cry. Good job, Munson, already ruined something good,” Eddie was reaching for a tissue from his bedside table.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I’m just tired and emotional. And just. It means a lot that you’d wanna meet her,” Steve said between gasps for air as he continued to cry.

“Of course I do. I could even invite Gareth over, too, if you want. He won’t believe that our date went well,” Eddie joked, brushing the tears away from Steve’s cheeks.

“I’d love to meet him,” Steve said, sniffling.

“When can you guys get here?”

“Usually we’re done by four, but sometimes we stay later to finish grading stuff. Maybe we should say six?”

“Got it. Any allergies?”

“Robin is allergic to shellfish. She says she is. I think she just doesn’t like them,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“No shellfish, got it. Any preferences, my love?”

Steve blushed at the term of endearment, looking down before he leaned in to kiss Eddie softly.

“Anything you make will be great.”

“You wanna borrow some clothes for work?” Eddie asked.

“Do you have any business casual stuff?”

Eddie gagged.

“Unfortunately, it’s required for the job sometimes. Far left of the closet should have something,” he nodded towards the small closet by the bathroom.

Eddie watched as Steve walked over and picked out his only pair of khaki pants and a navy button down. Steve looked back at him and winked before he nodded towards the bathroom.

“Could use some help working the shower if you’re willing to,” he smirked.

Eddie jumped up from the bed and ran into the bathroom, ignoring the way Steve was laughing.

“The hot water is tricky sometimes. I should probably get in there too to make sure it stays hot,” Eddie said as he stripped off his pants.

“Definitely. Wouldn’t want me to get cold,” Steve put a hand on his shoulder to slow him down. “Kiss me?”

Eddie leaned in to kiss him slowly, letting his tongue brush along his lips just to get a taste.

“Okay?” Eddie checked in.

“Yeah. You remember what you said last night? About loving me like I deserve?”

Eddie nodded.

“I want you to. And I want to love you back.”

“I think we can arrange that.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #gareth emerson #wrong number au #modern au #ficlet #request #getting together

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morallyinept · 3 months

Text

Rockford & Roses - A Detective Tim Rockford One Shot 🌹

Summary: Tim's coming home to you on Valentine's night with a heavy heart and secrets that threaten to tear you apart. Can your love for him survive the ghosts of his past that still haunt him? More importantly, are you willing to make room for them in your already strained marriage?

Pairing: Det. Tim Rockford x Wife!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 5k-ish

Scoville Smut Rating: None, it's fluff. Mostly angst. Definite angst. You're safe. Kinda.

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: Alludes to smut, nothing detailed/mentions details of a case involving the murder of a child, nothing too graphic/alcoholism/A N G S T in abundance/some dark themes in the sense that Tim is self-destructing. Tim is very a broken man, poor lamb. Give him a hug, will you?

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: This story evolved massively from the direction it was going in originally, and I'm actually kinda pleased about that... It's something different from your typical, "schmoozy" Valentine's Day story, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.🌹

MAIN MASTERLIST | TIM ROCKFORD MASTERLIST | FLORA & FAUNA MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

Detective Tim Rockford had been sober for almost a year when it all fell apart completely on that terrible night.

But it wasn’t until the winter was in its latter stages, that he would tip fully over the edge into regular, almost daily, bouts of oblivion to keep himself from falling off the ledge completely.

To keep the nightmares and sense of guilt that he drowned in on a near constant basis at bay.

He unscrews the cap from the bottle of dark amber liquid he’s craftily been hiding under the seat in his car, and swallows it all back letting it slip down his throat.

Without him giving it permission to, his mind replays over the events from that fateful night, four years ago, and is brought back to the little girl lying at the bottom of the ravine just off of the ridge.

A call had come in about a missing child on the morning in question, and he and his partner Peter ‘Petey’ Harman went over to the home of the parents to talk to them about it. You know, do the initial questioning; worker bee stuff. Try to suss out if she was a regular runaway or if in fact one of them had stuffed her under the foundations and was crying wolf.

The family home was nice; an average run-of-the-mill house, in an average run-of-the-mill neighbourhood. Tim was presented with a photo of her from her mother and he remembered thinking that he’d missed his chance to be a father, to watch your belly swell and witness the miracle of life forged from your love, and it left a bitter taste.

She was cute as a button; all brown hair and freckles, and she had this blue, silk princess-dress, with lace collars and cuffs, wearing a gonky smile that was missing a tooth or three.

‘Find my baby, please Tim.’ Her mother had begged him whilst Harman took down the notes - he was good with that stuff - and Tim promised her that he would - knowing that a detective should never promise that - if it was the last thing he ever did. Not knowing that he would actually make good on that word further down the line.

Looking again at the picture, he learned it was her favourite dress, her mother had said it through the red eyes that she wore that pretty dress everywhere, and that she turned into the spawn of Satan himself when she tried to get her out of it so it could be cleaned.

It was also the same dress Tim had found her wearing when he discovered her remains.

The search had been dragged out as much as it could be, but there was no trace of her. Leads had been exhausted; those pulled in for questioning were found innocent and their alibis solid.

It was as if Rainie Thompson had vanished off the surface of the planet in a click of a finger.

The search efforts began to die off around the four week point, mostly due to the heavy snow settling in and it pained him to know that everyone was giving up on finding this little girl - a little girl that he was convinced was still alive - she just had to be; he could feel it in his gut.

Some perverted bastard had her and he was determined to make them feed from a tube for their rest of their life when he found them.

Tim was determined to find her, despite his colleagues and even Harman at times, convincing him it was a lost cause. He’d been spending most of his time - including down time - combing the woods, the parks - everywhere and anywhere he could think to try and find her.

Where are you, baby? She consumed him wholly.

She was what kept your husband away from you.

Left you sat at the dining table alone, with an uneaten plate opposite you and a creeping draft settling into your bones. The creaky sounds of the house seemed louder when you were alone, and soon they were your only companion; their creaks soon turning into words of comfort at an absent husband.

Tim left the space in the bed vacant, crease-free and cold beside you.

Tim’s whole world had come tumbling down when he’d picked Rainie up and cradled her small, cold body to his chest and wailed like he had lost his own beau.

No, baby... no.

He cursed up to the sky, as though having it out with God himself - God, who had allowed this innocent, beautiful child to die.

Tim wasn’t exactly devout or the God-fearing type. He’d been to church only a handful of times in his life; to marry you being the most notable, but after that day he’d especially not been back to a church since.

This is how faith dies in a person; violated and fractured. Altered and hollowed out from the inside and everything pure and good is obliterated by the poisoning fingers of the darkness in the world, wrapping their hands tightly around its neck and simply snapping it in two.

Fuck you, God! Damn you, you son of a bitch!

She had been thrown down in there like a puppet whose strings had become entangled with themselves; she was six-years-old.

Rainie Thompson was six-years-old and she had a little, blue dress and played Hopscotch and liked drawing pictures of red roses, and eating chocolate ice-cream until her tummy hurt.

Rainie Thompson was the one who killed him.

Tim cried through the drinking, mourning her like his own and mourning the part of him that was dying with her; a hollow husk of a man soon to be filled by the familiar numbing void that alcohol had to offer.

It would make him forget the horror; forget the depravity, although the nightmares would never relent, he would be certain of that - they never do.

To date, he hasn’t found the killer and it’s been four years. A one-off, grisly murder that hinted at possible cannibalism, but later was discovered she’d been partly eaten by a wild animal scavenging; it left very little in the way of clues or evidence, because there was very little of her left.

Most of his team concluded it absolutely was an animal of some kind, a cougar happened upon her perhaps, or a bear after she'd wandered off? But Tim did not quite believe that - they didn’t see her.

It’s changed him, changed something within Tim to see the world for what it is. The band-aid has been ripped off and once you see that shit, you can never unsee it again.

And Tim's seen some pretty fucked up shit in his career.

He closed up, closed off and began unknowingly cementing the spiralling destruction that was to be his life. He’s fifty-eight and has nothing anymore.

Well, that’s not entirely true, he has you.

Despite the distance that has grown between you, evolving from carnal desire to ships passing silently in the night, you remain steadfast in your love for Tim, silently supporting him as he battles the demons that threaten to consume him wholly.

Yet he can’t help but feel that he's condemned you already in some ways. Watching as those demons hold you down and tear pieces from you until, one day, they'll be nothing left.

The wife of a gritty detective doesn't bode well in a happily ever after.

His decades long career is the reluctant third wheel in your marriage, and at first you admired his dedication; his passion to solving mysteries. Getting excited yourself when he'd use the dining room walls to gather his thought maps, pinning up mug shots, red thread lines linking people and place and circumstance. Weapons of choice like an elaborate game of Clue.

And he'd talk to you about them in those early days, the tamer cases he had. Mugs of coffee and thoughtful kisses exchanged as you offered your opinion and challenged his thinking.

Now it's getting harder not to resent that damn gold badge.

He swigs again at the bottle. It feels good; the warm, numbing sensation flooding through his veins down both his arms and legs. The giddy onslaught of amnesia begins to twinkle around the edges of alert thinking as he slowly succumbs to the light buzz.

He closes his eyes and lets himself teeter on the edge of it, welcoming the calmness like an old friend.

His first heavy session had led to his first blackout and it had scared him; scared him that he could lose a chunk of time that was unaccounted for out of his life - waking up at home fully clothed in the armchair, sometimes the kitchen floor, knowing he'd driven severely under the influence, and equally amazed and relieved that he hadn’t killed anybody in the process. They would take his badge for that recklessness if they knew.

No-one knew. Or if they did, they never mentioned it.

But it wasn’t enough to stop him. It got him through the paralysing fear of handling those dark days, which were particularly brutal, and the other fucked up cases he’d had to solve since.

They tell you; tell you that it will be difficult and bad, but you’re never prepared for it.

His father never prepared him for that shit and was right when he said he hadn’t got the cajones to be a police officer all those years ago.

His father headed up the ranks of Chief in a suburban precinct elsewhere and eventually made Commander, like Tim knew he would, probably just to spite him. He also told Tim in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t "Commander material." Hell, he wasn’t even Detective’s material, and for a while, Tim believed sincerely that he was right.

Although, he’s six feet under now, so what the Hell does he know? Shot in the back during a supermarket raid gone awry when he’d popped out to buy a newspaper and a some smokes. Commander John Rockford shot by a drugged up lil’ pipsqueak looking to get cash for his next score - what a legacy!

His death left a nice, fat pension for his mother who squandered most of it on a gambling addiction that she’d always had looming in the background of his childhood; the root of many a ferocious argument witnessed between his parents when they thought he was tucked up in bed, and he could literally hear the punch from his father’s fist make contact with his mother’s jaw.

But that didn’t stop the fact that his words clung to Tim like a bad shadow most days, even now, long after his theatrical send off like he was a Goddamned hero or something. He wasn’t; he was a mean little asshole with a bad temper and Tim had been glad to see the back of him, too sloshed to remember much of the funeral at all and cutting his no good mother out of his life soon after.

Tim swigs from the bottle once more, the sting dying out slowly and melting into an alkaline that soon tastes of nothing. It’s all nothing; emptiness and voids that are getting harder to fill. Disassociating himself from his shitty past life; from his first wife and her erratic behaviour, which took him years to figure out, was probably his erratic behaviour that had pushed her away and out of their home for good, not that he’d truly cared to notice.

Work all but consumed him. And he was happy to let it.

Of course, he’d gone to AA; out of town where nobody would know who he was - an upstanding pillar of the community, yeah right - talking about your problems, laying them all out there in front of a bunch of strangers who were just as fucked up as you were, was difficult because, up until that point Tim had never recognised or considered that he had a problem; just a mechanism he relied upon that helped him cope.

Having to take a moral inventory of himself and dig into the suppressed emotions he was hanging onto, and using them as an excuse to inebriate himself through the day, was hard.

The hardest thing he'd ever done, doubting he was strong enough to climb those twelve steps - and he wasn’t even really sure that he wanted to.

But he did; was sober for a while, until Rainie Thompson obliterated him.

He takes another quick swig after spotting Harman coming out the Gas n’ Guzzle and shoves it back under the seat covertly.

Harman finds Tim sitting as he left him, squeezing the steering wheel inside of his deft hands, over and over, trying to make sense of everything and when exactly the world had become such a terrible and unforgiving place - but is coming up short.

Gas stations are the most uninspiring places to get a decent cuisine that won’t make you shit ten tons the next day, but it's late; Detective Petey Harman is tired and hungry for just about anything right now, no matter how crappy it would taste or make him feel in twelve hours’ time as it burns through its exit out of his anal passage.

Once back inside the car, Tim scrutinises the large brown paper bag filled to the brim that Petey rifles around in, before pulling out a dire looking sandwich and handing it to his senior.

“You planning a sleepover with your girly friends or summin’?” Tim questions him.

There are several boxes of microwave pizzas, a bag of extra-large puffy marshmallows, various microwaveable meats in packet sauces that look questionable in their paleness, a jar of chocolate dipping spread and a large bottle of orange and pineapple Cactus Cooler.

“Nah... No girly friends for me.” Petey says, sombrely. “Weekly shop.”

“Well, watch your damned cholesterol.” Tim tears into the plastic packaging to be met with disappointment the moment he puts the sandwich in his mouth.

Petey can smell the waft of alcohol lingering in the car but he doesn’t mention it. Just like all the other times he's smelt it coming out of Tim’s mouth when he speaks, making his eyes water.

Petey was not long into being a newbie; a junior ranking officer in the department and up until a year ago or so now, had been making pretty good at busting low-level criminals successfully, to the point that he hadn’t really taken the gig that seriously, thinking at times he was invincible.

So much so that he had his thumbs in his belt loops and his shooter on show proudly like they do in Miami Vice as he and his reluctant mentor Tim, solved bleak mysteries together.

They’d stopped in for a burger break at Lafferty’s Grill on the day of Rainie being reported missing; talking about the pretty waitress giving Petey a lingering smile, and Tim trying to persuade him that he actually had a pair of balls and should use them to go and talk to her.

Instead, Tim was mirthed with disappointment as Petey's cheeks flushed a crimson red as he stared into his laminated menu, tacky with barbecue sauce residue, and tucking said balls firmly inside himself.

Petey had to grow up fast; he knew that the moment he’d heard Tim yelling at him crazily when he’d found the child’s remains whilst they scouted around for her aimlessly one night after Tim was trying for weeks to hold it together.

It was an image that still gave Petey nightmares, and the sounds of Tim sobbing still made his blood run cold when he thought about it, but it was far less frequent now.

He’d been promoted since to Detective, taking the job more seriously and knuckling down; his life coming up roses whilst Tim’s fell out the bottom of his ass.

Speaking of roses, Tim looks up mid-chew on something that the label assures him is tuna fish, and spots something red and velvety clustered in the window of the gas station.

He spies the date on the radio and sighs out heavily, tossing the sandwich back in the plastic packaging.

“Shit.” He mutters.

“You good? I got a BLT if you want that instead?” Petey asks.

"No. Fuck no. Wait, you gave me the shitty tuna when you had bacon?" Tim frowns.

"Was gonna save it."

With that, Tim exits the car, the driver side door squeaking on his beaten Pontiac and his trench coat billowing in the wind as he makes his way inside the gas station.

The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting a harsh glare over the rows of snacks and drinks lining the shelves. His weary eyes fall upon the sad display of the florals. A few wilted roses, their once vibrant petals drooping with neglect, sitting haphazardly in a cheap plastic bucket.

Tim grimaces, knowing they’re far from the bouquet you deserve.

His mind flashes back to the drawings of roses on Rainie Thompson's bedroom wall and how, for a time, they engulfed him, tracing his fingers over the waxy ridges of their messy circles.

Tim was sitting on her bed, clutching a stuffed bear with a plaid neckerchief that smelled of talc and her mother informed him the bear's name: Tim. Or Timmy. Timmy the Teddy.

He remembers squeezing that damn bear tightly as he took in the surroundings of the little girl's room, trying to work out where she was - where are you, baby? - When he spotted the drawings.

He kept one, pulling it off the wall and folding it neatly into squares until it fit in his wallet. A reminder that she would be with him, crying in his ear for him to bring her back home to her mommy and daddy.

She never stopped crying and wailing in his ear; the pitch growing until he drowned it out with the booze.

He remembers the pictures, full of clumsy scribbles, bulbs of red crayon petals and skinny green stalks. Kind of how the roses look now in the bucket staring out at him; a sad little gift from beyond the grave in their macabre despair.

He hears it again now, that crying, right beside him. He squeezes his eyes shut, a few moments of forcing it into white noise.

With a resigned sigh, he plucks a handful of the least wilted roses from the bucket and makes his way to the counter. The clerk eyes him curiously as Tim approaches, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of their lips.

Tim ignores the silent judgement, focusing instead on paying for the flowers and grabbing a bottle of wine from the shelf by the counter. The wine selection is vastly limited, but he purchases a bottle of red without giving it much thought and hoping it won't taste like sharp vinegar.

He pays for his thoughtlessness, and hurries back to his car, the weight of his guilt and exhaustion pressing down on him like crushing lead.

“Get out,” he gruffs to Petey as he starts the engine.

Petey gulps down his sandwich with a splutter. “What?”

“You’re walkin’ home tonight.” Tim announces with eyebrows knitted, and Petey rolls his eyes, fumbling with his shopping and splitting the bag in the process.

"Aww man. You're kidding me?"

"I gotta get home. You didn't tell me it was fuckin' Valentine's." Tim scowls.

"Big deal. It's just another day." And Tim can hear the bitterness of being single and alone awash in Petey's mouth with stale bread, lettuce and bacon.

"Out." Tim presses.

“Roses won’t cut it this time, Tim.” Petey whines, as Tim reverses before he can even shut the door.

He’s right. Despite his bumbling ineptitude, Petey’s right - it won’t cut it.

Tim can’t even believe the sight of the wilted roses sitting on the passenger seat, mocking him and reminding him of all of his failings to you. It wasn't always like this, he's sure of it. Somewhere in the recesses of his tempestuous mind, he knows you were happy; he made you happy at some point, right?

He remembers how happy you were when you exchanged vows and gold bands, gorgeous in your little lace smock dress, beaming up at him. Fuck, it seems like a lifetime ago.

Burgers and beers on the bonnet of his car, he had a chevy back then, and watching breathtaking sunsets, and going to the movies when he was off duty.

He would bring you roses then. Fluffy, sumptuous blooms that almost guaranteed him a bigger helping of your cherry pie with the perfect, sweet crust, and extra kisses that led to him detaining you in the sheets, reminding you that you had the right to remain loud, to scream his name when he made you come.

He brought you real roses back then. Not these... weeds.

It’s late, almost midnight which ironically, is the earliest Tim has been home in a long time.

With a deep breath, he gathers the roses in his arms and makes his way to the front door. As he pushes it open and steps into the warmth of your shared home, the scent of your perfume catches his nose making it twitch.

He remembers that scent, like a sucker punch to the jaw. As he inhales deeply, the memories come flooding back, transporting him to a time when life was simpler, when the weight of the world hadn't yet settled upon his broad shoulders.

He can almost feel the warmth of your hand in his, your laughter echoing in his ears like sheet music. The feel of his cock inside your wet tightness as he fucked you into the mattress and you clawed at the expanse of his back leaving red welts on his skin from your nails for days after.

You couldn't get enough of each other once, and now you're barely strangers.

He steps into the deep bellows of the house searching for you, and finds you on the couch, wiping frantically at swollen eyes that have obviously been crying.

And the guilt drowns him instantly, crushing him like a tsunami as he sees you there, small and withered, worse than the roses he dared to bring home to you.

Looking down at them and frowning, Tim is disgusted with himself. He tosses them onto the table wanting to be free of the wretched things.

He longs to spend time with you, his darling wife, but the relentless pursuit of justice consumes every waking moment, pollutes every free thinking thought.

You can only watch from afar as Tim pours himself into the work, and pours himself another glass to compensate for the scars it leaves.

You know he’s haunted by the very vestiges of unsolved cases stacking up on his desk that he never talks to you about anymore. Closes the files of grisly crime scene photos before you have a chance to see them.

He protects you from his work now, but consequently, and unwittingly, protects you from him, too.

Each night, you would leave a warm meal on the table and wait anxiously for his return, hoping that he’ll come home early to eat with you, your heart heavy with worry and your hair turning whiter in the process.

More often than not, you dine with bitterness and disappointment.

Often, you’d wake in the early hours of the morning to find Tim slumped in his armchair, surrounded by case files; his brow furrowed in comatose concentration, glasses almost fully sliding off the bridge of his nose.

An empty bottle always rusticates beside him on the floor.

You can’t remember the last time Tim slept in your bed with you. The last time he held you in those strong, broad arms of his that you know he has hidden under that trench coat.

You can't remember the last time Tim made love to you and whispered how beautiful you are in your ear with whimpering grunts as he filled you up.

Tim is crestfallen as he steps forward, the faint glow of something flickering on the dining table pulls his sight.

A candle, close to being exhumed by the deathly kiss of its barely remaining wick, and unopened boxes of now cold Chinese take-out litter the table.

“I ordered your favourite. Number seventy-three with a side of nineteen.” You sniff. "I got extra twenty-two because they always give us an odd number."

“Darling, I...” Tim stops, for he knows nothing he can say can absolve this. On the most romantic night of the year, Tim has failed you, yet again. “I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t, Tim” you raise your hand shaking your head despondently. “Just don’t.”

"I didn't mean to be late. Not tonight.”

A small ghost of a smile evaporates on your lips. “You never mean to be late. Yet you always are.”

“The case-”

“It's not about the case, Tim," you say, your voice foggy with emotion. "It's about us. About the fact that you're always putting everything else before me."

He notes the roses again, bearing witness to his shame; their haggard state mocking him once more and he curses inwardly.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he approaches as you stand, arms wrapping around yourself and glass cutting tracks down your cheeks.

“I packed a bag…” You say as his eyes follow yours to a small suitcase in the hall that he didn’t even notice when he came in. passed right by it, oblivious. And he suddenly wonders what else he's been missing all these years, as it registers in his gut.

“No.” Tim states with a croak in his throat. He shakes his head vehemently. "No, darling."

Tim steps forward, the suitcase filling him with terrific dread. "You're leaving me?"

You're surprised that he's surprised.

But you shake your head, tears falling freely now. "I can't do this anymore, Tim," you say, your voice barely a whisper. "I can't keep waiting for you to come home to me. To open up to me and tell me what’s eating at you. I know it's something bad, something terrible. And I want to help, I do, I'm your wife. I want to make it better. But you make it so difficult. You push me away."

“To protect you.” He says with a low voice.

“Who's protecting you, Tim?"

"I don't-"

"I don't know who you are anymore. The man I fell in love with, he's... a ghost.”

“I…” words fail him as you look at him with a deep sadness that will stay etched on the thin fibre of his soul forever. A stain that won't wash out, no matter how much he scrubs.

You were the one. You're his one. And he's fucking losing you.

“Tell me, or I’m leaving... for good.” You warn. "If you ever cared about me at all, you'll tell me what's killing you. Please..."

You shake your head in despair, wiping your eyes harder now, when he doesn’t say anything. Just swallows the lumpy constriction in his throat and stares at you with hollow eyes.

"Goodbye, Tim." You sniffle.

“Rainie Thompson, she loved roses...” Tim mutters thickly as you approach the hall.

You stop, turning to face him.

"Who's Rainie Thompson?" You ask fearing the immediate worst.

You expect him to reveal to you that he's been unfaithful. That's he's not just been putting the hours in solely at work. That he brings roses - roses that are alive - to another woman. He eats her cherry pie now, fucks her into the mattress.

That he drinks because of the guilt of hurting you. But what he says instead alters a part of you that you don't think you'll ever get back.

“They look just how she drew them.” Tim says, his voice breaking, until his face caves in fully, features drowning in the onslaught of emotions, and for the first time you witness this unwavering man crumble completely.

And it terrifies you. For if he, the strongest man you've ever known, can break like this, what hope is there for you?

You rush to him as he collapses to his knees with a heavy thud, and wraps his arms around your waist, sobbing into the softness of your tummy.

You shush him and stroke your fingers through the greying curls, matted with sweat at the back of his neck. He holds onto you tighter than he’s ever done and you're afraid to let go of him.

Afraid that he won't ever stop bawling, as he mumbles incoherently and snottily into your abdomen.

Hours pass by, Valentine's Day gone in a blink of an eye, and you listen carefully and woefully as Tim recounts the haunting tale of Rainie Thompson, and how she's slowly killed the man you love.

You sit at the dining table with his thick, gun-calloused hands inside of yours, stroking over the ridges of his knuckles and listening to him swear to you that’ll get help with the drinking.

That he’ll take some leave and the two of you can go to the beach, or the lake, or somewhere where it can just be the two of you for a while.

Away from his cases, away from the horror of it all. Hell, he even mentions early retirement in his pertinent desperation, until you pat his hand gently and ground him with a stroking cup to his grizzled cheek.

You smile lightly as you gather the roses, and try to push aside your cynicism and wonder if you’ll regret not actually leaving tonight. Wonder if all what Tim has fed you is more empty promises when he'll eventually slip back into that expected monotony.

But you can see some swill of sincerity and regret inside the brown muddy pools of Tim’s tired eyes that you've never seen before.

He silently watches you pull the dead outer petals from the roses before placing them in a vase with fresh water.

“They’re already dead.” He mutters apologetically to you, shaking his head at the sight of them.

“Some things can come back to life, Tim, with some love.” You smile softly and Tim wants to just die in your arms right now.

“I don’t deserve you, darling.” Tim says, reaching for you.

He hasn’t yet taken off his trench, and you help it from his shoulders, the smell of worn leather from his holsters greeting you this close.

You've forgotten what he smells like as you inhale deeply. The scent of the leather leads a rugged and slightly musky undertone to his familiar aroma that’s swilled with coffee, cedarwood and sweat underscoring the gritty, primal edge to him.

You lick your lips as you graze your nose against the warmth of his neck, allowing him to finally crush you close to his broad chest, before the handle of his gun digs you uncomfortably in the breast.

He braces to kiss you, sweeping his lips delicately against yours, but you flinch. A reaction that slashes at Tim’s gut.

“Just hold me tonight, Tim.” You plead to him.

He nods, a solemn heaviness in his eyes as well as on his shoulders.

“I’ve missed you so much.” He admits.

Hearing him say it offers some vindication, but you know that these wounds need layers of bandages to be changed daily, and not some flimsy band-aids.

"I've missed you too."

“I’m so sorry for pushing you out. I don’t wanna lose you. I can’t. I’ll do whatever it takes. I promise.” He takes your hand and presses it to his mouth, the soft scruff of his facial hair feeling like gossamer, and you'd almost forgotten the feel of that too. “I love you.”

And when he says it, your emotions hiccup out of you and the tears fall again.

“I love you, Tim,” you whimper.

He takes you in his arms, those big, strong arms, and leads you upstairs to bed where he makes good on his word and doesn't let go of you all night.

You fall asleep listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat as he rubs your back gently, soothing you into sleep whilst he stays awake well into the night, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to listen to the dark thoughts urging him to finish that whole bottle of cheap wine downstairs.

He came so close to losing you today, on Valentine’s Day of all days, and he knows he has to do better. For all his faults, you love him and he spends the night pondering on that. Pondering when it was that he last slept in the bed with you, until his eyes fall heavy and he succumbs to a short, stunted sleep.

In the morning, he rises, stiff and aching from laying in the same position all night with you curled tightly in his arms. Amidst his back cracking and feeling stuffy in his slept-in crumpled button up and vest, Tim silently leaves the bedroom, careful not to wake you.

After pissing for what feels like an age, Tim catches sight of his face in the vanity mirror. White-gray stubble spreads across his chin and top lip, and the weary look of a man of the law that’s seen too much and knows too much weighing heavy around his sullen eyes, greets him.

He rummages in the vanity for some Tylenol and pops two in his mouth, swallowing them down without water. He re-shapes his oil slicked hair and tries to avoid the face looking back at him.

It knows all his terrible secrets, and now, so do you.

In the beginning the alcohol wouldn’t let him remember all the details, but its dropped its guard. The dreams were real; too real and he would find himself reliving the events each time he tried to get some damn shut eye.

He wasn’t supposed to keep seeing these things or to remember - it wasn’t part of the deal. Inebriation was supposed to wipe that shit out, but it'd failed to serve its purpose, instead serving as a beguiling wedge that expanded between you and him.

After descending the creaky stairs towards the kitchen, Tim passes the dining table en route to make some coffee; his tongue washing around dry, tight gums.

He spies his mobile and checks it out of habit; a message or two from Harman, one about a lead on one of their minor cases, and the other enquiring about his 'night of passion with the Mrs' and if it went well, and Tim simply scoffs. He makes a mental note to kick Harman when he sees him next. Preferably in the balls.

But out of the corner of his eye, Tim notices the vase of dead roses and stops to take in how they're now fully alive.

Overnight, their wilted petals have straightened and regained their vibrant colour, as if infused magically with a newfound vitality. The once drooping stems now stand tall and proud, their green leaves unfurling to reveal a lushness that seems to defy their previous state of neglect. Shades of crimson glow in the stale morning light, their hues deepening and intensifying the longer Tim takes them in.

Tim reaches for one, revelling in the soft velvet as he rubs it delicately between his finger and thumb. His eyes widen in disbelief at the transformation before him. It’s as if the flowers themselves are reaching out to him, a silent reminder of the resilience of your love and the power of forgiveness.

Some things can come back to life, Tim, with some love.

And Tim swears in that moment he’s never loved you more.

He swallows back a choke as he glances the wedidng photo of you both on the wall. Fuck, you looked so happy and beautiful that day.

Feeling a new sense of budding rejuvenation settling into his tired bones, a tiny bud, but one still seeding nonetheless, he turns towards the kitchen and then freezes, feeling it as his blood runs cold over his skin.

Prickles shoot down the back of his neck as he hears the sound, as clear as day. But it's different this time.

The haunting, yet wonderfully brilliant sound, of a little girl playfully giggling beside him.

Rainie Thompson isn't crying in his ear anymore, and Tim Rockford can't help but smile, closing his eyes as he listens to that sweet melody.

I found you, baby.

Thank you so much for reading. I'd love to know your thoughts and would appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you! 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | TIM ROCKFORD MASTERLIST | FLORA & FAUNA MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #tim rockford x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #tim rockford #detective tim rockford #merge mansion #tim rockford fluff #tim rockford angst #valentines day #jett's writing #tw alchoholism #tw grief

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periludic · 5 months

Text

" Distraction "

Qiu and Tamarack partners with the MC for a school project, they didn't get much done (It was the MCs fault)

📌 Pairing: Step 1 Qiu/Tamarack x GN!MC (Separate)

📌 Basically just Qiu and Tama admiring the MC

📌 OLNF brain rot, I'm making an AO3 fic of this next. (Thank you to whoever commented on my last post for this suggestion)

Qiu "Autumn" Lin:

Lets be real this kid needs a lot of help with school stuff, he'd probably be decently good in school if he tried but he doesn't

And to be extra real, he picks you every time to be his partner (he doesn't have a favorite he swears)

Mrs. Murray wouldn't allow that though, "give chance to others" she says. She deals with a lot of kids complaining that "Qiu always chooses (Name)!! Thats unfair" (god bless this woman) and Qiu frowns the saddest frown whenever this happens

But whenever Mrs. Murray does allow it, you bet that Qiu has the silliest, brightest, blinding smile ever stuck on his face

He likes you a normal amount (He lies to himself)

I don't think he'd be too serious about the project, but he does contribute and help you whenever he can

He doesn't pay much attention to it either, he's just happy to be there with you

But can you really blame him for spacing out mid-conversation when you tuck your hair prettily over your ear and how you look absolutely stunning when you're focused or when you have the cutest reaction ever at getting an answer right?

No. No you cant.

He pays more attention to you than your actual project, its cute but come on.

If you ask him why he's staring, he'll probably laugh it off and scold himself, thinking it was impolite of him to do so

But he's not afraid to admit the reason to why he was staring at you!

Its common sense, you're just too pretty. He can't help himself.

If you do start stressing out over the project however, he'll offer to do the rest for you

"I'll be more than happy to!!" he says, and you know. You just know that theres nothing inside that air head of his

It might take him a moment or two or three to understand the question but its worth it

He will do anything as long as its with you

Tamarack Baumann

No Mrs. Murray, she refuses to do the project if her very best friend isnt her partner

Tamarack would absolutely riot if Mrs. Murray got in the way of you being her partner for a project

She will be using her best puppy dog eyes and pleading voice thank you very much

Its against the law to object Tamarack, Mrs. Murray should've known better

Unlike a certain someone, Tamarack actually pays attention in class, and is good at memorizing without taking notes!

And unlike a certain someone, she's not as nice when it comes to not being your partner

Mrs. Murray allows it most of the time though, since you and Tamarack are new to the town and is still adjusting.

Most of the time.

Tamarack is very biased when it comes to you and everyone knows it (she has said so herself, in front of the entire class)

With Tamarack as your partner, you can rest easy!

She remembers your lessons well, and understands the questions fairly quickly

But sometimes she just can't help but to admire you. How can she not?

She's convinced that you came straight from a fairytale book, you're just so charming and adorable it's almost unfair!

Call her out on her behavior and she'll be more confused than a very confused person

Like. Yeah?? She's admiring you?? So what?? Its the logical thing to do? Its not her fault you're gorgeous?? Duh??

She'll give you a million reasons why you're so eye catching if you're not convinced

Please stop her.

I'm serious.

She'll go on and on for hours.

📌 sorry if my english grammar is off <3 english is not my first language

#our life now and forever #olnf #qiu lin #tamarack baumann #olnf qiu #olnf tamarack

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pathetic-sapphic · 9 months

Note

hi ^^ can i request how arcane milfs + vi will act when they have a crush on a fem reader ?? maybe how they court her and try to win her attention it would be so cute !!

love your work so much ! hope you’re having a great day, take care 💕

Arcane milfs + Vi when they have a crush on you

I'll say this again and again, GRAYSON is a gentlewoman. She knows how to flirt while being extremely polite and flattering so she will gain your attention in no time. She will invite you for a fancy dinner and be an absolute delight. She will compliment your choice of clothing, pull out your chair for you, lightly hold your hand on the table and utter sweet praises by the soft glow of candle light. While the two of you are still in the courting phase, Grayson will send flowers to your apartment or your workplace which will have a sweet message attached to them. She is a bit old-fashioned and likes to formally ask you to be her partner after several successful dates and outings. She is over the moon when you return her feelings and cups your face while looking deep into your eyes and mutters out a gentle ''May I?'' before she kisses you once you give her an eager nod.

At first, SEVIKA struggles a bit when thinking of ways to approach you. She can't remember the last time she was romantically interested in someone let alone tried to ask them out. At first, she'll try to get your attention by having drinks sent your way whenever she spots you sitting at the bar of the Last Drop. Almost dies after you turn around towards her and give her a shy wave and an appreciative smile. In order to get some alone time with you, she rents a separate booth so the two of you can get to know each other in peace. You cannot deny that she is an incredibly charming and attractive woman so you start falling for her quickly. Sevika isn't any better as she is smitten by your lovely laugh and pretty face, she tries so hard to listen to you but is distracted by your cute gestures half of the time. Eventually, she gathers up the courage to formally ask you out on a date and grins like she won the lottery once you agree. It'll take her a while to get a hang of the whole relationship thing but you think it's adorable how hard she tries to win you over.

Prepare to be spoiled rotten, because the first tactic CASSANDRA has for gaining your attention is by showering you with gifts. Whether she gives them to you in person or sends them to you, you cannot help but always marvel at their quality and the thoughtfulness behind them. Prefers giving them to you in person as she greedily soaks up every little reaction you give her. Also takes you to lavish dinners and galas, making sure you are dressed in the most flattering and breath-taking clothing. She is also very sweet and polite towards you, she likes treating you like a lady and receiving the same treatment in return. Also invites you to her house and plans a lovely, relaxing evening for the two of you. After you finish the lovely dinner she had prepared for you, the two of you unwind on her expensive couch, sipping wine and talking about everything and nothing at the same time. She takes this opportunity to admit her feelings for you, telling you how much she admires you and how she'd love to have you as her partner, if you're willing. When you agree, she gently hugs you and presses a kiss to your forehead while telling you how happy you make her. Hearing her rushed heartbeat right next to your ear makes you think there's no other place you'd rather be at than in her loving arms.

VI is a great flirt until she's given a taste of her own medicine. She will give you silly nicknames, initiate physical touch and always be near you, but her brain stops working when you return all those gestures and it's so endearing. She will give you tours around the Undercity, showing you its hidden gems and taking you to the most beautiful places. Takes advantage of your focus on the amazing views she shows you in order to admire your features and gaze at your reactions. She will also bring you pretty trinkets and pastries she steals from Piltover. Seeing the way your face lights up whenever she runs into you makes her heartbeat accelerate. Vi is also very protective and practically your guard dog, always standing by your side and making sure no one even looks at you wrong. She will always walk you home and lend you her jacket if you're cold. When she formally asks you to date her, she is so nervous and fumbles over her words constantly. But once she manages to get them out and you say yes, she picks you up and twirls you around, laughing happily. Once your feet find themselves on the ground, Vi kisses you and you can feel her lovesick smile on your lips and think to yourself how wonderful it would be if this moment would last forever.

#arcane #arcane headcanons #arcane x reader #arcane grayson #grayson x reader #arcane grayson x reader #arcane sevika x reader #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #arcane cassandra #cassandra kiramman x reader #cassandra kiramman #arcane vi #vi x reader #arcane vi x reader #vi x you

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marthawrites · 1 year

Note

Could you do inexperienced Aemond with an experienced partner

Teaching A Dragon New Tricks

Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 3.2k+

About: You and Prince Aemond have been giving each other eyes for some time now, and he finally makes the first move. After that, you feel comfortable showing him a few things. His drive for knowledge extends beyond books.

Includes: Aemond being a cute noobie (nerd), having an awakening to the magic of women, and explicit sexual content! Featuring male masturbation, vaginal fingering, and fem receiving oral.

Note: Hello lovely reader! My first ever request ahhhhh! This was seriously so much fun to think about and write. It's my first time writing this dynamic. I hope I did your request justice! As always, please enjoy! ♥

The first time Aemond kissed you he almost missed your lips. That’s not how any prince in the storybooks acted – they always knew how to make pretty maidens swoon.

Surely Aemond’s misaim was a jest? Although… you’d never known, or witnessed, him being the jesting type.

You looked up at him wide-eyed and surprised. You held your breath high in your throat, and Aemond must have too, judging by how his nostrils flared. Blood bloomed beneath his alabaster cheeks. His single eye desperately searched yours.

Had he misunderstood all of your shared experiences? Brief and in passing as some of them might have been? Had Aegon told him to “kiss her, brother. Why haven’t you yet? When you do, make sure to hold her throat like this and move your tongue through her mo–” he’d stopped listening at that point, blinking puzzlingly at the mental image of choking you for a kiss. He couldn’t imagine how that’d be enjoyable.

Yet, now he wondered if he should have done exactly what Aegon said.

“I– I’m sor–,” he started, taking half a step back. Embarrassment burned his pride.

You blinked, then, eyes sparkling with some sort of secret amusement. “Aemond Targaryen… dragon prince and rider of Vhagar…,” you said slyly. “Have you never kissed anyone before?”

If he blushed before, he damn near combusted with the absolute ease in which you read him. “Am I that obvious?”

A giggle answered his nervous question. Light, and airy, the sound full of magic like spring-pink flowers twirling in the wind. Were it anyone else you might have turned away with no intention of seeking a second. But, with Aemond? Since becoming a lady-in-waiting for Helaena you’d been smitten by him. You stepped forward, toe to toe with the tall, lithe, sheepish prince, and placed your hands on his chiseled face. “Let’s try that again, silly prince…,” you said before standing on your tippy toes to press your lips to his in a much more well-aimed kiss.

It was that day, in the soft sunbeams of Helaena’s empty bedchamber, that you showed Aemond the art of kissing until both of your lips were swollen. He learned wickedly fast.

After breaking fast it was a ritual for Helaena and her children to spend time in the gardens – rain or shine. Luckily it’d been sunny for a few days and last week’s downpour finally dried from the top soil. During these hours there never seemed to be a dull moment. You were sent off by the kids with nothing but a linen bag and a mission of finding bugs. They were putting together an insectarium and needed any and everything that crawled. It was a fun break. Fresh air and sunshine brought out the natural colors of your hair as it slowly loosened from its careful bun.

Before you knew it you were away from the main crowds and pathways. Insects buzzed in the air; quiet and secluded.

Just as you crouched down, a familiar voice called your name right when a jumping spider inspected your palm. “Shouldn’t you be training, my prince?” You asked as you looked over your shoulder to regard Aemond with your little bug friend.

If he cared about the spider he showed no sign of it. He crouched beside you and gently pushed you onto your back, grinning down at you like the trickster you were learning him to be. Sunlight hit his face and softened his otherwise sharp features. “Not with the sword. I’d rather train other things,” he said in a voice much too huskily. His mouth was on yours. With any luck the spider successfully jumped away and not into yours or his hair. “I haven’t stopped thinking about kissing you since the last time I did.”

For someone who literally just learned how to do that he was really good at it. A soft moan vibrated your lips against his. Your hands trailed up the front of his chest and neck, pushing away a stray bit of hair that tickled your collarbone. “Greedy prince…,” you giggled against his mouth, daring to nip his bottom lip.

“Perhaps you should have thought twice before showing me such things,” he replied. His free hand lifted to carefully lay over your throat; putting to first use the trick he learned from Aegon. Your reaction – arching beneath him – had his pupil swelling. "You like that?"

You nodded with a breathless smile. "Yeah. Not too hard though. It feels good just there," you purred, thighs pressing together as warmth built and collected in your core. The heavy kissing and exploring nibbles felt as if you were making up for lost time; Aemond One-Eye starved of affection. Muscles in your belly tightened and it took all you had to pull away from him, eyes dreamy and half-lidded. "Aemond… I want you to touch me. Please," your voice rasped. Wanton.

He looked at you curiously. "I am touching you," he answered, dipping to rub the tip of his nose against yours.

You fought another giggle. "No, my prince, I mean really touch me." You bent an elbow to lean up on it and carefully grabbed his hand with your other. In a guided trail, you swept his palm from your neck to your thigh and watched his expression all the while. "Have you ever pleasured a woman before?"

Color rose in his face, and even in the midmorning sun his pupil swelled. The strained tightness in the front of his trousers throbbed against where he leaned against you. "No," he half croaked. "Will… will you teach me like you did the other day with your kiss?" He squeezed your thigh with his question, marveling at the softness.

"Yes," you answered with an inward hiss. Gripping his wrist you added, "not here. Anyone could be around. And I am to be with princess Helaena all day. Tonight?"

"Not tonight. Now," he said.

“I cannot just leave her and her children behind!”

Some might not believe it, but Prince Aemond had tiny dimples when he smirked. Dimples. He leaned into the crook of your neck and kissed, then bit, and kissed again. Goosebumps tickled his lips when he said, “good thing the princess is my sister and I’m not obliged to her law.” Without giving you a chance to protest he stood and pulled you to your feet. He guided you back to the main path and paid little mind to bystanders.

“Brother, where are you taking her?” Helaena asked once she saw the two of you – his arm wrapped around your back as if for support.

“I found her off the path. She’s fainted. I’m taking her to her room,” he replied swiftly; the dirt on your back making his lie appear genuine.

Once inside the Red Keep, instead of taking you in the direction of your sleeping quarters, he took you to his. You two were able to sneak inside and latch the door without anyone seeing. You'd been in here before, but never under these circumstances. Excitement fluttered in your core and when his mouth found yours again you buzzed with anticipation. "Someone is eager…," you muttered playfully against his lips.

"Says the maiden who's given into the carnal desires of flesh outside of wedlock," he scolded against the side of your neck, nipping. "You unholy creature."

You gasped at the sensation of his teeth. "You might be surprised to know things aren't as strict among the smallfolk as it is with you nobles," you whizzed in response. "I'm quite glad to be born where I was. You royals are so uptight."

Through the banter Aemond led you towards his bed until the backs of your legs bumped against the edge of it. When you fell backwards with him above you, his silky pale hair like a curtain around your face, you wanted nothing else than to stay there for countless hours. "Are you going to keep babbling or show me how to make you feel good?" His smirk had an edge of darkness and you wondered if he was being entirely honest with you in regard to his experience.

Aemond wasn't lying. Truthfully, he hadn't any experience. That didn't mean he hadn't "accidentally" read about things here and there in sordid library books. And having Aegon as a brother meant he was victim to unsolicited advice and peer pressure often. The books were out of curiosity, whereas Aegon’s taunts were simply annoying.

He had an idea of how things worked. Though, he never had the opportunity to act upon such things.

"Aemond… if you don't start doing something I think you'll drive me positively insane."

Following the passive command, his hand began slowly trailing up your leg. He pushed your skirts up as he did so, allowing the fabric to bunch up until it barely covered your smallclothes. His gaze shifted from between his hand and your face – eager to see your reaction. "Something like this, right?"

Against your will, you arched beneath him and grinned breathlessly. "Yeah," you replied. The scratch of his skin on yours had your core flexing with a need beyond your control. "A little higher still…," you said, smiling.

Shifting his weight, he laid on his side, now, able to look from your face to the space between your thighs that was becoming more and more exposed. The backs of his fingers brushed along your covered mound and you jolted, narrowly missing crashing your forehead to his chin. "Are you okay?"

Blushing, you squeaked, "yes."

"Are you sure? You nearly headbutted me."

"Shh.. shut up!" You laughed, embarrassed. "Gods. Keep doing that, there, feels so good," you said as you pulled your skirts higher up your front. Intentional or not, his teasing made you, somehow, want him even more. "Actually… these are just in the way," you added, tugging your own underwear off.

He watched you with surprise in his eye. He'd never seen this side of you – or any woman, in that fact – and with each passing moment the prince felt an undiscovered part of himself roar to life. He liked it. Pulse drummed in his chest and behind his ears, and he had to steady his hand as he lowered it to cup your bare mound. Breath quickly hitched in his throat. "You're so warm," he whispered, shuddering. The pads of his fingers pressed curiously along the outside of your folds and he bit down on his own lower lip to stifle a sound he’d never quite made before. “And slick.”

You allowed the sound he bit back to flow freely from your throat. “Surely you know how it works…,” you teased, thighs opening more than they already were. “Women get wet where men get hard.” His touch was curious and inexperienced, yet something about it was endearing and made your belly tighten. When he grazed your clit you whimpered, melting into the mattress. “Right there,” you whispered thickly. “Is my pearl. It’s very sensitive and the center of a woman’s pleasure,” you added, voice and cheeks sultry alike.

The front of Aemond’s pants had never been tighter. He turned quickly off the bed to kneel at the end of it, pulling your legs until you were right where he wanted. His attention flickered between your face and that needy space between your thighs; glistening and pink with desire. One hand held you open while the thumb of the other grazed all over your parted slit, exploring. Soft wet sounds accentuated your panting. The pressure of his thumb shifted from firm to light, and he tested different types of strokes, tearing his focus from your cunt only to watch your face for your reaction. “Here?” He questioned, sliding over your swollen bud.

Your hands tightened in his bedding. A moan came from your slackened jaw and you nodded down at him, watching him observe you. “Yes.”

He circled it, slid across it, and stroked along it. The sounds you made shot right to his cock and made his head heavy as if he’d drank too much wine. In tandem with some of his motions he saw the way your little opening clenched and relaxed around nothing; arousal seeping out of you lewdly, pleadingly, driving him to the brink of madness. He throbbed in his pants. Without entirely realizing it, he opened the front of them to let his cock free. He sighed at the freeing sensation. He groaned something in High Valyrian, cuntdrunk at the sight of you spread open so prettily.

"Push a finger in. I want to feel you," you said down at him breathlessly, one of your hands moving to gently cup the side of his head. If you thought him roguishly dashing before, seeing him here and now, knelt and learning the ways of your body, made him tenfold. It was all too much. Aemond Targaryen, despite his virginity, might very well bring you to the height of pleasure.

He did as instructed: thumb slipped easily into you and you both gasped at the same time. He'd never felt anything quite like the sensation of you. Warm – no, hot – slippery, and spongy.

"Oh fuck…," you moaned softly. The hand at the side of his head squeezed into his hair, practically tugging at his ear. "More, my prince, please. Try a different finger and move it around inside me." It was a surprise you could speak so clearly as lust blazed through your entire form.

Aemond slipped his thumb out and replaced it with his index. The moan that elicited from you sent him crazy. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered reading something from somewhere: using one's mouth to get a woman ready for coupling. He hadn't a clue where, or how, or what, but before he could talk himself out of it his mouth was on you. If his touch felt good on your pearl, then surely his tongue might too.

"Oh my Gods..! No.. you don't have to do that," you blushed, fingernails clawing into his scalp as you stared down at him dumbfounded. In your experience men rarely did this to women, and less enjoyed the act of it.

"Does it feel good?" He asked with sincerity, not wanting to hurt you with his inexperience.

"Yes!"

He smirked and went back to it. Tongue and lips were tentative and unsure, as was his finger still pressed into you, but it hardly stopped you from finding both amusement and bliss in it. He licked all over your folds with the flat of his tongue; tang and salt and a hint of sweetness overtaking his senses. He hadn't a clue how he'd gone so long without experiencing this. Remembering what you said about moving his finger, he did just that. He swirled it around between your slick velvety walls and reveled in how you felt wrapped around his digit.

"Mmf…!" You panted, gripping tighter into his hair. "Keep doing that. With your tongue on my pearl, too," you simpered, the low muscles in your belly flipping and tightening.

The young prince was eager to listen and learn. He followed your instruction. He even dared to add his middle finger too, slowly moving and curling them around. You were so wet, and warm, and tight around him. If you felt like this around his fingers he could only imagine what you'd feel like around his cock. He moaned at the thought, lapping your clit with more confidence and enthusiasm.

You were trying so hard to keep your legs open and relaxed for him, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. For someone who claimed to never have done this before it still felt wonderful. Any time his mouth would begin to stray away from where you wanted him, you pushed him back where he needed to be. The combination of your gently rolling pelvis, pleasured sounds, and hold in his hair, kept him on track. Shifting your legs around a bit, you slung one over his shoulder. The slight change had him finding a spot along your walls that had you seeing stars. "Right there!" You preened, thighs squeezing to lock him in place.

"Is it too much?" He asked, a little taken back with your sudden reaction to whatever it was he'd been doing.

When you looked down at him you nearly lost it. Your arousal glossed his mouth and he looked, somehow, innocent and wild alike. "Yes! But no… keep going. Please don't stop," you whined, desperate, using your hand still tangled in his hair to guide him back down to you.

Even with his jaw aching for a break, he obeyed. He kept his fingers right there where you seemed to really like it, curling and massaging along a section that felt a little different than the rest of the area. He stayed on your bundle of nerves, too, flicking and lapping and relishing every single noise his attention pulled from you. His free hand pumped along his cock; aching and rigid and feeling like it could burst at any second. He moaned into you. He wasn't going to last.

Pleasure peaked and your thighs squeezed around his head again. "Aemond!" You mewled at the top of your climax, the entirety of your womanhood pulsing and shuddering with release.

He couldn't hold back his own release. Never before had he heard his name said like that or called out like that – never experienced the excitement of a spasming cunt. He spent himself as he groaned into you. The last spills of his seed dribbled down his fist while the earlier, more powerful, ropes already began to soak into his bedding.

Your thighs finally relaxed around him and you gently pushed his head away, too sensitive for more. A sheen of sweat collected on your forehead and you felt heat high in your cheeks. Blushed, panting, and satisfied, you looked down at Aemond with bright sparkling eyes. "I don't believe you. You had to have done all of that before."

Slick coated his mouth and chin. His single eye was black with more emotions than you could read and he looked damn near wicked. "More," be said greedily as he squeezed your thighs; already a man addicted.

What had you awoken in the dragon prince? Your chest rose and fell with labored breaths, eyes communicating more than your mouth was currently capable of.

Just then, a knock on his door broke both of you out of the post-orgasm stupor.

He cleared his throat and said, "what is it?" in only a slightly trembling voice.

"Prince Aemond, you are being summoned to the small council meeting."

Annoyance washed over him and he swallowed it with a sigh. "I will be there shortly."

When no other sound came from the door, he tucked himself away and stood from where he'd been kneeling. "You're lucky, my lady, to be off the hook." He grinned cheekily and self-satisfied. He offered his clean hand to help you up before going to wash the other along with his face.

"There's more I can show you another time, if you'd like," you said as you straightened your garb to return to regular duties – as if Aemond hadn't just given you one of the best, if a bit clumsy, orgasms. "You're a very fast learner."

"We can continue to put that to the test," he said with a dark glimmer behind his eye. His angular features were sly in a way you'd never seen before, and you wondered what sort of things simmered in his mind.

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