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yuckie-obsessive · 2 years

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TAKEN BY THE VOID (Act 2 - ch.3)

Darkiplier x Reader x Antisepticeye

Something a lil small for part 3. Things start actually happening (you start learning how to control stuff). Something a lil soft… for now >:)

See masterlist for info and triggers

Masterlist

Word count: 1,344

Searching For A Way Out

You exited the bathroom clean and in more comfortable clothes. Anti was seated on the bed and motioned for you to come sit across from him. You obliged.

“Will this hurt?” He took both of your hands, much softer this time. “Shouldn’t.” A soft electric hum filled the air. It felt calming.

“Alright just focus on your breathing and I’ll handle the rest.” You nodded. Closing your eyes, you focused on each breath and working yourself into a steady rhythm.

The floodgates were fully open to him now, and he was determined to keep it all under his control. He let your calmed energy fill his being and then some, letting it dance with his own before merging. He was caught of guard when a small light began to shine between your linked hands without your notice.

His eyes began to water with new overwhelming feelings.

So this is what it feels like…

It felt amazing. Never had he experienced such bliss.

Moments passed and you began to grow tired and the small glow flickered out. He noticed how your hands began to tremble lightly and cut off the flow between you two, then removed himself. Not even something this sweet was worth the consequences of over-draining you. You released one more long breath and gasped at him, “Your skin- it has color!”

His skin, while still holding some discoloration, was starting to look more… human. “Yeah,” he laughed a bit, “this is what it looks like. Not the prettiest thing, but it’s a start.”

“Is there… a way for me to talk with Chase? At some point?” Anti tensed with a defensive nervousness, “Not now… you shouldn’t tax yourself.” Why the hell would you want to talk to him? The thought stressed him out.

You half expected this response, “maybe tomorrow?” He shrugged not meeting your gaze, “Maybe, I guess.” It was concerning how he wouldn’t give you a straight answer.

He suddenly grabbed your shoulders, “Do not mention this to Sean. He hates me and would never trust you alone again if he knew.”

“I wont tell- as long as you keep your promise,” you gazed up at him with all seriousness. He simply nodded in response.

“But- wait, wont he notice your skin?” He shrugged, “I can alter my appearance.” His form glitched and reverted to his prior appearance. “How do you think I keep up this pretty face~” You lightly punched his arm. Seems he felt better with the change in subject. “Okay, magic man, Ima get food. I’m starved.”

You made your way down the hall though Anti didn’t follow. Sean was sitting at the table, looking deep in thought.

“You alright?” You asked cautiously, remembering his earlier foul mood. He straightened, “I… wanted to apologize for my outburst earlier. I’m just worried he’ll hurt you- or worse. You saw what he did earlier!” You looked away. It was inexcusable you’d admit.

“I don’t think you need to worry about me… I know the situation with Chase is… difficult. But, maybe once I get more control over myself, I might be able to help you guys,” you offered.

“(Y/n), focus on yourself and in finding a way back. Chase told me some things of how him and kind operate. If Anti cooperates with me I can get Chase back… But he’s only gotten worse with time, (y/n). I’m expecting him to be anything less than cooperative,” he said rather resigned. “But everyone is suffering in this situation! I can’t leave you all knowing that I could’ve helped.”

“You have a good heart, but you can’t expect to change him.” You once again felt deflated, “Maybe not but I can at least try, right? A-And you tell me ‘I told you so’ if it doesn’t work… can we at least agree on that?” He sighed, “Well, if you’re so set on this, I suppose you can try. But I’m going to stop you once he gets out of hand. Please learn from my mistakes and trying to push limits you aren’t ready for.” You nodded, “Thank you Sean, I’ll definitely keep this in mind.” What a relief it was that he was, at the very least, letting you handle something on your own. You felt more justified helping him out earlier.

The two of you moved towards dinner and talking about plans for going back to his other home in England. Your documents would take a few days to process and you would need to return to retrieve them. You figured you could more accustomed to your power in that time.

After cleaning, you bid Sean a goodnight and made your way to bed. Surprised to find Anti still loitering in the room. “You’re not going to convince him you know.” It was the first time you’ve seen him casually defy gravity.

“Anti, did you hear him? He wants to help bring Chase back. Even if you think he hates you, he still holds out a little hope… Maybe he’d start trusting you if you stop badgering him so much,” you responded. He mumbled something you couldn’t hear.

A moment passed with you silently observing him float.

“How are you doing that?” He smirked, “I’m not effected by this plane. I can manipulate space easier.” He demonstrated by flickering the lights, starting the fan and opening a few doors.

“Woah,” you exclaimed in wonder, “how are you able to do it all at once?”

“I put out little feelers, sorta like extra appendages. Electrical devices are easier to control because I can surge energy into them.” He seemed all too pleased to show off. “Do you think I could do any of this?” He hummed in thought, “I suppose it could be possible…” he maneuvered around you, still a foot off the ground. “Try imagining a bubble around you. Have it expand out from your center.”

You nodded and took a few calming breaths. “Think of it as an extension of yourself.” Imagining this external energy felt hard to control. You had to constantly recenter your thoughts, but once you focused a small light emitted from your chest and the air around you hummed. You felt warm and giggly. You smiled over at Anti, “This feels amazing.” He chuckled, “Get a handle on that and you can use it to effect things around you. Just try not to push it too hard. It can easily exhaust you.”

You nodded again and pulled it back in. “Now, if you don’t protect yourself, the energy that escapes you can attract other little soul suckers like me. Think of it as closing up a dam or locking a door.” In all honesty, he selfishly wanted to make sure nothing else knew about your presence, and he was all too happy to keep you for himself.

You laughed a little at his comment and concentrated and slowly began to feel a switch trigger inside. The air felt lighter. Finally progress was being made.

“Can we do this again tomorrow?” He chuckled at your excitement, relieved that you seemed to momentarily forget about Chase. “Sure, if you’d like, doll. It’s a date,” he winked. You clapped your hands and bounced, making a small happy noise, ignoring the slightly flirtatious remark. “God I need to calm down. I’m never gonna sleep like this,” you giggled, fanning your face.

You started your nighttime routine. “You planning on sleeping in here?” You asked when you noticed Anti made no move to leave. “I don’t feel the need to sleep. Makes you vulnerable.” You climbed into bed. “Do you usually just watch Sean sleep?”

“Sometimes. Gets boring fast. I do enjoy entering his dreams on occasion. Real taxing though,” he noted nonchalantly. He was floating next to you like he was laying down. You hummed, “I guess you can stay- just please don’t make it weird.”

“Whatever you say, doll.” With that, he glitched out of sight. You sighed and pondered the nickname he gave you.

Slowly drifting off, you were keenly aware of his presence still in the room. Like you were developing your own ‘little feelers’. You chuckled at the thought of having your own personal imp from out of the darkness.

#anti #ego #jacksepticeye egos #text #jacksepticegos #darkiplier x reader x antisepticeye #antisepticeye x reader #antisepticeye #darkiplier #darkiplier x reader #dark #x reader #reader insert #yandere x reader #kie’s post #fanfic #baby’s first fanfic #kie writes

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buckysbbyy · 3 years

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here, stevie (part 1)

part 1 | part 2

pairings: bucky barnes x reader(established), steve rogers x bucky barnes, steve rogers x reader, stucky x reader (dom!bucky, sub!reader, sub!steve)

synopsis: bucky has noticed how you and steve act in each other’s presence, he can tell you’re both holding back from one another. tonight, he decides to give the two of you what you thought you were hiding gracefully, while also getting the fun he deserves.

warnings: dom/sub dynamics, dom bucky, sub steve and reader, threesome, M/M SEXUAL INTERACTIONS, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotective penetrative sex, dirty talk, pet names, kissing, daddy kink, spitting, slight voyeurism, choking for a moment, sex in the compound living room, filth, its porn. 18+ ONLY! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

word count: 2.4k

a/n: well, this is complete FILTH. I’m scared to post this, honestly. I was going to wait until tomorrow to post but I honestly want to get this deleted from my computer LOL. BUT I hope someone other than me has these filthy stucky thoughts. feedback is always welcome!

It was your honest intent to just watch the movie with your boyfriend, Bucky, but he picked some action movie that you were only half paying attention to, and he just looked so good in the grey sweats and tight black t-shirt that he had on. It started with you kissing his cheeks for attention, but it quickly got heated after he picked you up and placed you on his lap to straddle him. Being that you were in the living room of the compound, this was a bad place to start getting frisky.

Bucky didn’t care though, he’d take you right there with everyone watching if he knew you wouldn’t die of humiliation. Of course, right at that moment when Bucky’s tongue is in your mouth, his hands grinding you against his hard-on through his sweats, Steve walks in, not expecting to see, well, that.

As steve catches sight of the two of you, he means to turn away, he really does, but he just can’t. The sight of Bucky’s hands on your hips, grinding you into him, his tongue in your mouth, the soft moans spilling from your lips, it sends blood rushing to his cock.

With your back to Steve in Bucky’s lap, you can’t see him, but as Bucky parts his lips from yours to start trailing them on your neck, his eyes open, catching sight of Steve standing there, his hard cock evident in his thin gym shorts.

Steve’s face reddens as Bucky sends him a wink, and finally, he gathers the strength to turn away. “God, sorry!”, Steve half-shouts, covering his eyes and turning his body the opposite way.

Steve’s voice frightens you as you turn to look where his. “Steve!” Your face is red, embarrassed beyond belief at the fact that Steve saw you in such a way. “I’m sorry! We shouldn’t be doing that in here!” You scramble to get off Bucky’s lap, but he holds you in place.

“I-it’s fine, I’ll go”, Steve says, starting to walk away, but Bucky calls out to him.

“Steve.” Bucky is looking right at him, waiting for him to turn around. But he won’t, because he’s afraid you’ll see the tent in his pants.

“Yeah, Buck?” he asks, still turned the other way. “Look at me. No need to hide.” Bucky is smirking, knowing he’s finally getting this chance.

“Bucky, what are you doing?”, you whisper shout at him, wondering why he’s not letting Steve leave or letting you get off of his lap.

“Hush, kitten, before I spank you right here.” He says back, squeezing your hips and keeping his eyes on Steve. You’re still turned on from just moments ago before Steve walked in, and Bucky’s words to you don’t help any.

Steve turns around slowly, trying to discretely cover his groin area with his hand. Bucky chuckles at his red face and nervous behavior. “Come here, Stevie.”

Both yours and Steve’s eyes widen, looking at each other momentarily before breaking eye contact, Steve looking back to Bucky and you burying your face in his chest. Steve walks over slowly to where Bucky is seated on the couch with you in his lap. Bucky looks up at him, smirking.

“Stevie, correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you were just watching me and my girl from the doorway there. And I think you liked it, according to the strain of your shorts. Yet, I can’t seem to figure out who you were looking at more, me or her.”

The arousal in your core has never been more evident, and you’re trying your hardest not to rub yourself into Bucky’s lap again. The way he’s talking down to Steve that way is making your head spin.

You bring your face out of Bucky’s chest to look at Steve, finding him speechless, eyes darting between you and Bucky.

“I-I- I’m sorry, Buck, I-“ Steve starts, but Bucky grabs his hand in an attempt to calm him.

“Stevie, would you like join to us?” Bucky asks nonchalantly as if he was asking him to join the two of you for dinner. “I know my girl here doesn’t mind. Every time you walk in the room, she gets all shy and wet and subby, I know she wants to fuck you.”

You are now joining Steve in being speechless, not sure whether to start apologizing because it's true, or to deny it. Bucky looks at you for a moment, sensing your concern. “Don’t worry kitten, I’m not mad. I know you can’t help it, and I know you’d never do anything to betray me.”

He turns back to Steve, “And I know you feel the same way for her. In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you get so nervous and shy around a dame. I can’t blame you punk, I do have one hell of a special girl. But you know what else? I hear you moaning her name at night sometimes when you’re touching yourself. You’re not the only super soldier around here with increased hearing abilities.”

Steve’s eyes widen at what he knows is coming next. “I hear my own name fall from your lips too.” Bucky looks at him in the eyes, and you feel his cock twitch under you. You suppress a moan at both that feeling and at Bucky’s words.

Steve looks at him, his eyes softening from their widened state, his hands coming to their sides instead of covering his hard cock. He walks closer to Bucky, standing right next to his knee. “Come here”, Bucky says softly.

Steve slowly sits next to him on the couch, your leg touching his as you’re still straddling your boyfriend. You look at Bucky, he can see it in your eyes, and feel it on his pants, how desperate you’ve become.

He brings his hand up to cup Steve’s jaw before turning to kiss you. It’s a slow, deep kiss full of raw emotion. While he’s kissing you, he’s guiding Steve close to your joined lips. Bucky pulls away and quickly replaces his lips with Steve’s on your own before you even know what’s happened.

Bucky sits back and groans as he watches Steve kiss you. He kisses slow like Bucky, but you can tell he’s holding back, that he wants to devour you. Bucky’s cock is twitching in his sweats as he puts both of his hands on the backs of yours and Steve’s heads, keeping you in the kiss for a moment before pulling him off your lips and crashing his own into his.

Years of built-up tension is coming out through this kiss unfolding right in front of you. Both Steve and Bucky’s faces are distorted in pleasure as they find each other’s tongues, Bucky’s easily dominating Steve’s in the heat.

Bucky brings his flesh fingers to your mouth for you to suck while his lips are still on Steve’s. You moan around his fingers and start to move your hips against his crotch, forcing a moan into Steve’s mouth. He pulls away from his friends’ lips to look at you, you’re so desperate you could cum right there just from rubbing on him, and Bucky knows it.

“Aw baby, you’re soaked through your shorts. Look at the mess you’ve made on my pants.” Bucky mocks you, pulling another moan from your mouth. He grabs your jaw, pulling you so close to his face that your noses are almost touching. “Stand up and strip.” He says quietly, yet sternly. Your eyes widen at the thought of stripping in front of Steve, but you do as he says and stand up in front of him.

Bucky turns to give Steve a quick kiss before finding Steve’s cock through his shorts, a moan falling from Steve’s mouth. His shorts are stained with precum, Bucky can feel it. They both watch as you remove your t-shirt and shorts.

Standing in your bra and panties, your face turns red as you start to shy away.

“Don’t- don’t hide, y/n. You’re gorgeous”, Steve says in awe, never having seen your body in this way. “That’s right, doll. You know daddy’s rule, no hiding. Take the rest of it off so you can get back in my lap, pretty girl.” Bucky says, smiling softly at you.

You remove the remainder of your clothes, quickly returning to Bucky’s lap, where he’s rid of his sweats but kept his boxers. As you begin to straddle him, he stops you.

“Nu-uh. Other way, kitten. I want your back against my chest.” You oblige and turn around, his arms grabbing beneath your knees and pulling your legs apart, spreading your bare mound for anyone to walk in and see.

Bucky brings his fingers to Steve’s mouth, where he happily takes them. “Get them nice and wet for me, Stevie”, Bucky says, pulling his fingers out and bringing them to your pussy. You moan loudly, finally getting what you needed. He begins making slow circles on your clit, Steve watching your face turn in pleasure.

Bucky turns to Steve. “Shirt and shorts off, now.” Steve stands up and strips the clothes Bucky told him to. As he sits back down, Bucky grabs his jaw, kissing him sloppily for a second before pulling away.

“Open your mouth, tongue out.” Steve obeys, and Bucky spits on his tongue, the excess dripping on his chin.

“Good boy. Now get that mouth on my girl’s pussy.”

Your eyes widen as you hear Bucky’s words, but before you can say anything, Steve’s mouth is on your mound, and god is he good. His tongue licking wide stripes up and down, focusing on your clit before going further down to tongue your entrance.

You’re a moaning mess, on edge and so, so ready to cum. Steve begins sucking on your clit as he brings a single finger to your hole. Bucky’s hands are on your breasts, squeezing and caressing as his lips suck purple marks into your neck. Steve’s index finger and tongue work your pussy, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Daddy!” You moan to Bucky, “Daddy, m’gonna cum!” Bucky smirks, “Oh no baby, not yet” Bucky gently pushes Steve’s face from your mound, pulling a pathetic whine from you. “You’re cumming on my cock, sweet girl.”

Bucky pulls his boxers off him, his cock now free, the tip oozing precum and prodding at your entrance. Steve looks at his friend's cock wide-eyed. He looks to Bucky nervously as he watches him push his cock into your wet hole.

“Oh fuck, kitten, so wet for me, aren’t you?” You nod yes and moan desperately, trying to move your hips against him, but Bucky reaches his arm across your hips, holding you still. He looks to Steve,

“Go on, Stevie, keep working your tongue on her. She’s gonna cum so hard for us.” Bucky groans, moving his cock excruciatingly slow in and out of you.

Steve brings his head back down to your core, all his focus on your clit now as Bucky continues to pump slowly into you. Steve can feel Bucky’s cock rubbing against his chin occasionally, making his cock twitch in his boxers, which are covered in precum. You’ve never experienced pleasure like this, and you’re so close, you’re right there.

“Daddy can I cum?! Please daddy, feels so good!” Bucky groans as he feels your walls beginning to tighten around him.

“Yes baby, be a good girl and make a mess on my cock” At his words you fall apart, your head thrown back and your legs shaking as you cum hard, your eyes squeezing tight as you experience ecstasy like never before.

You finally come down, your body going limp in Bucky’s lap as Steve’s tongue comes off your clit. You’re trying to catch your breath as Bucky pulls his cock from you, cooing at the mess you made on it.

“Such a good girl, baby. Now Stevie, be a good boy and lick my cock clean.”

Steve’s eyes are full of lust as he takes no time to obey Bucky’s orders. He licks his cock from base to tip, cleaning your cum from it and moaning at the taste. Steve’s tongue is pushing Bucky closer to the edge,

“Yes Stevie, keep licking me like that, fuck” Bucky groans at the feeling as Steve starts to focus on his head. Bucky kisses you deeply, his hands finding your throat and lightly squeezing as he gets closer to cumming.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum” Bucky groans, Steve not slowing down his tongue as Bucky’s cum shoots up and lands on your exhausted pussy, covering it in his thick white ropes.

“Ah, fuck! God, yes!” Bucky groans through his orgasm, his head falling back for a second before looking back to Steve.

“Okay Steve, I think you’ve earned the privilege to fuck my girl. But you better not cum in her, punk, I’ll kill you”, Bucky smirks at Steve. You look at him as he discards his boxers in front of you, watching his angry red cock bounce free.

Steve gets between yours and Bucky’s knees as he lines himself with your entrance, looking at you for silent permission as you look at him with begging eyes, needing him to fuck you. He finally begins to push himself into you, moans escaping his mouth as you squeeze him tight with your walls.

“Oh god, Steve!” you moan, holding Bucky’s hands as he starts to pump in and out of you. “Fuck, m’not gonna last long”, he says, out of breath already from the pleasure. Bucky grabs his arm and pulls him down to capture his lips in a kiss, then turning Steve’s head to kiss you once more.

He’s pounding into you, the sound of skin slapping filling the room, his face scrunched in pleasure as he feels his peak approaching. “Oh god, I-I’m gonna cum, y/n, feel so good around me”, he whimpers into your kiss, pulling away suddenly and fisting his cock over your stomach, where he groans as ropes of his cum cover your stomach, some getting on Bucky’s thighs.

Steve collapses beside Bucky on the couch, catching his breath as he looks over the two of you. “Wow” is all Steve can get out, honestly in shock over what just happened. “Wow, indeed,” Bucky says, chuckling lightly, standing up with you in his arms.

Your eyes are closed as you rest against his chest, too tired to speak. “I’m gonna take y/n to the bathroom to get cleaned up.. join us?” Bucky smiles at Steve. Steve nods in agreement as he follows the two of you to your bathroom, where the three of you share a warm shower and cuddle in bed afterward. The three of you fall asleep for a nap, your body sandwiched between the two super soldiers’.

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky x reader #dom!bucky #dom bucky #dom bucky barnes #bucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes #sub steve rogers

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just-another-blog-of-fluff · 3 years

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A Cozy Evening

Word count: 2800

Warnings: just a sticky sweet little fluff bomb for you all to enjoy 😉

You were all going to have to wait for this til tomorrow but @writingfics-passingtime is just good at striking a deal to get things early so… here it is! A nice bit of fluff to contrast the ruthlessness she’s posting 🙃

This is part 3 to An Embarrassing Secret, as requested by @sweetxnertickle - I hope you enjoy!

Thank you to those who submitted plot ideas! I went from zero ideas to too many ideas, so now it looks like I'm going to have to continue this multi-part fic for a little longer

Read first: Part 1 An Embarrassing Secret, Part 2 A Difficult Question

Movie nights were quite common in the Avengers tower. It was a great way to bond with the team, gathering everyone in the same room for something other than saving the world from certain doom. Sure, the team did other fun group activities together from time to time, but there was just something so cozy and homely about curling up on the couch with a blanket in your pajamas and watching a movie while trying to stay awake.

It was also a great excuse to sit close to Loki.

You were feeling a little extra cozy tonight, putting on your favorite pajama shorts and t-shirt and wrapping yourself in the fluffiest fleece blanket you owned. Thrown around your shoulders, the edge of the blanket just barely grazed the floor as you walked. The fabric was soft as it brushed against the bare skin of your calves.

Maybe you’d been feeling a bit touch-starved the last few days. It had been a few weeks since you’d worked up the courage to ask Loki to tickle you (or, rather, he’d forced your hand, so you’d have no choice but to ask. The audacity.) Since then, you hadn’t really had the opportunity to physically be close to anyone. Sure, there was the occasional high-five after a skilled move on a mission, or after a successful sparring match, but outside of those moments you pretty much kept to yourself. It wasn’t in your nature to ask for affection, even when you craved it. So, you did the next best thing, and surrounded yourself with soft, fluffy fabric.

You were disappointed to find that Loki hadn’t arrived yet in the common room when you headed in to find your seat. Usually, you tried to time your arrival so you would get there just after he sat down so you could conveniently choose the seat next to him. Now, you had to rely on him wanting to sit with you; or, at least, you had to hope there were no other seats left in the room by the time he arrived. The god had you feeling like you were back in high school crushing on a schoolmate – it was both a terrifying and giddy feeling.

Choosing a spot on the open two-seat sofa, you lay down on your side with your head resting on the arm and stretched your legs across the cushions. If someone asked you seriously to make space, you knew you would do it without hesitation, but you’d be dreadfully disappointed that you weren’t sitting with Loki. Each time someone new walked in the door, you held your breath, hoping they would find somewhere else to sit. You were so focused on making sure no one besides Loki sat with you that you didn’t actually notice when the lanky, dark-haired Asgardian himself strode into the room.

“Move.”

You looked up to see Loki hovering over you, waiting expectantly for you to move your legs to make space for him to sit. Glancing around, you noticed there were still a couple other seats open, which made your heart flutter. He actually wanted to sit with you, he chose to sit with you. But maybe you wanted to push his buttons a little bit.

“Not until you ask nicely,” you bargained, smirking. His eyes flashed, a slight upward curling to the corner of his lips.

“Move, or else.”

You feigned a gasp, stretching your legs out a bit more. “So rude! You’re not making me feel very generous, Loki.”

The look he gave you next made your stomach flip. The intense, mischievous eyes… the barely-there smirk… you knew you were in trouble the moment the words left your mouth.

“Move, or I’ll make you.”

Becoming a bit flustered already, you pulled your blanket up over your mouth and nose to hide your boiling cheeks and shook your head, holding your ground. He looked down at you with an expression of pity.

The logical thing would have been for him to move your legs. Clearly it would be no trouble to him, with his godly strength. But when you tried to cross Loki, he had to make a statement. So, instead, he reached down and lifted you effortlessly by the shoulders, forcing you to sit up enough so he could slide into the seat where your upper body was previously positioned. You scrambled to sit up all the way, feeling very shy at the idea of laying your head in his lap, but as you shifted he snaked an arm around your waist and tugged you toward him to lean with your back against his side and chest. He grasped the corner of the blanket closest to him, dragging it across to steal some for himself. It was large enough to cover you both, so long as you kept your knees slightly bent.

“Comfortable?” he asked teasingly, his lips startlingly close to your ear.

“Mmhmm,” you nodded stiffly. Your face was on fire now, more than a little bit flustered at the position you were in now. Loki’s arm was still wrapped around you, his hand resting on the side of your belly beneath the blanket. It would have been incredibly comfortable, if it weren’t for your anxiety brain telling you that you couldn’t relax too heavily into him, or hewould be uncomfortable.

The lights turned off, the screen turned on and a film began to play on the television. The room fell silent, save for the sounds of the music playing over the opening credits. A few strands of your hair shifted with every rise and fall of Loki’s chest behind you, his soft breath fanning over your forehead.

“Are you certain you’re comfortable?” he whispered suddenly, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re quite stiff.” If you could see his face from where you were leaning against him, you’d have noticed the glint of mischief flashing in his eyes. “Maybe you just need some assistance.”

You let out a soft gasp when you felt his fingers suddenly graze against your side, tracing random patterns against your t-shirt. Your hand instinctively darted to grasp his tickling fingers, but you quickly released them with a rush of heat to your face.

“Loki!” you hissed.

“Yes? What is it?” His fingers began to sweep along your side again, maddeningly gentle. You bit your bottom lip, shifting a little to lean more heavily into him.

“Ok, I-I’m relaxed now,” you insisted.

“Oh, but I’m not finished yet.” His fingers found the hem of your t-shirt, curling up underneath it to ghost along the skin of your belly just above your hips. Barely withholding a shriek, you reached up to pull the blanket up over your nose again, clamping a hand over your own mouth.

His soft, barely-there touch was agonizing. Making things worse, you had to fight to hold in your laughter and squirming to prevent the others from realizing what he was doing to you. At best, they’d realize he was tickling you beneath the blanket, and they’d tease you for it later. At worst, they’d think… well, their minds may stray elsewhere. Neither option was one you were willing to risk. But gods, if it didn’t make every swipe of his fingers tickle ten times more knowing you had to try not to react to his touch.

And, if you were being honest with yourself, this was exactly what you needed to cure your touch-starved mood.

It was quite the dilemma you were in. Allow him to continue with this sweet torture and risk your reactions giving something away to the others. Or, tell him to stop and feel the inevitable sense of loss when he obliged. The choice was obvious – you had to risk it.

When his fingers traveled up to the skin in the middle of your belly, right above your bellybutton, you began to reconsider your life choices.

Your abdomen twitched helplessly under his fingers, shoulders shaking in silent, breathy laughter. A sudden burst of air from his nose told you he was enjoying himself, laughing as he tore you to pieces with the mere flick of his fingertips against your bare skin. You weren’t even sure what movie they’d put on, and you didn’t care. The only thought in your brain right now was trying to contain your reactions despite your desperate desire to giggle out loud.

“P-please,” you whispered in desperation.

“Please what?”

“M-move s-somewhere e-else,” you pleaded.

“Alright.” You let out a slow breath as he slipped his hand out from beneath the hem of your t-shirt. Your reprieve was short-lived, though, as his fingers wrapped around your side and began lightly pinching and kneading rapidly. You couldn’t help but let out the tiniest of squeals, moving your other hand on top of the first to cover your mouth with both hands. “What’s wrong, love? You’re awfully jittery this evening.”

You couldn’t curse at him with your hands over your mouth, so instead you reached out with one hand to grasp his forearm and squeezed, trying to distract yourself from the agonizing sensation.

“Oh – I’m sorry, does this tickle?” he whispered in your ear. You turned your head slightly to throw a wide-eyed glare in his direction, startling yourself with the proximity of his face to yours. He responded with a widening smirk, his fingers beginning to ascend toward your ribcage. Shaking your head wildly, you pushed down against his forearm, trying to prevent his tickling fingers from crawling any higher. “Why are you fighting this? I thought you liked it.”

“Loki-eep!” you lowered your hand from your mouth for only a second to scold him, jolting when his other hand slipped beneath the blanket and latched on to your other side. Luckily your squeak was hidden beneath a sudden surge of volume in the music in the movie. Something important must be happening. No matter, you had bigger things to worry about right now.

He knew exactly what he was doing to you. Flustering you first by pulling you in close and then tickling you senseless to top it all off. Maybe he had noticed you fading into yourself a bit more these days, rubbing a hand along your own shoulder or resting your hand on your knee absentmindedly while sitting by yourself. It was likely that you, yourself didn’t even realize what you were doing. But Loki was perceptive, especially when it came to you. And if he was being honest with himself, he needed the closeness as much as you did tonight. He’d have been satisfied just to hold you in his arms, but he wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t relish in the feeling of you squirming under his fingers, cuddling in closer to him as a result. And the fact that you enjoyed it as much as he did made it all the more fun.

Feeling your silent, shaking laughter against his side, he let his fingers rest along your ribcage, adding a bit of weight to his touch to avoid tickling you. You took in long, slow, deep breaths, trying not to gasp in air and resultantly make a loud noise. Glancing around anxiously, you didn’t see anyone looking inquisitively in your direction. Good – you didn’t want to have to answer any awkward questions from your teammates later.

Gradually, your breathing shallowed to a more normal respiratory pattern. Still, Loki’s fingers rested heavily on your sides, unmoving. You shifted a bit to lean more firmly into his side, hoping he’d take the hint that you had recovered enough to start again. You were keenly aware of the location of each of his fingers along your ribcage, waiting with bated breath for them to suddenly spring into action and start scratching between your ribs again.

If there was one thing you should have learned about Loki by now, it was that he enjoyed teasing you. He knew what you wanted. But you were going to have to find a way to ask for it.

Releasing a short huff of frustration, you tilted your head backward to look up at the dark-haired Asgardian who had made himself your pillow for the evening. You could barely make out his features by the glow of the TV screen, the light dancing across his face as the movie continued to play. He glanced down at you when he realized you were looking at him. You softened your eyes, jutting your bottom lip out the slightest bit. He let out a breath of a laugh through his nose at pouting expression, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head in a look that asked what you wanted without words. You frowned, brow furrowed, trying to will him to just read your mind. He shrugged, letting his expression harden and feigning ignorance as he turned to look at the TV screen once again.

Suppressing the urge to whine, you reached your hand up to where his rested on your side, tapping it gently. You saw a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, but his hand remained still. You had one last trick up your sleeve, though. You shifted yourself to turn your upper body a bit, allowing that to be a distraction as you moved your hand over to the side you were resting against, latching your thumb and index finger onto his lower ribs and pinching a few times in rapid succession. You weren’t even sure if he was ticklish, but the sudden jolting gave you your answer.

His hand clamped down around your wrist, prying it away from his side as he turned his head to look at you with narrowed eyes, a look that screamed ‘you’re in trouble.’ Your stomach swooped in anxious and excited anticipation.

His grip around your waist tightened, pulling you closer against his side to hide his own vulnerable areas using your back as a shield. He latched both hands on your sides, his long, slender fingers reaching well across your belly, and began to claw into the soft skin through your shirt. It was all you could do to suppress a burst of laughter from exploding from your chest, clamping your hands over your mouth and nose but resultantly leaving your torso unprotected. Apparently you’d succeeded in getting under his skin, because he was no longer trying to go easy on you, thumbs digging into your sides just below your ribs as his four fingers scratched across your belly.

You were glad he at least had mercy enough to not target your weaker spots, because the effort it took to suppress your laughter was making you want to explode. Tears of mirth collected in the corners of your eyes as you let out small, short bursts of air through your nose, shoulders shaking. Loki was precise and unrelenting tonight, continuing to torment that same spot for what felt like an eternity. You finally couldn’t take it any longer, moving one hand away from covering your mouth to push at his hands. Instead of stopping, he merely allowed his hands to slide down a bit to dig into your hips.

In all your years on earth, you’d never been tickled in that specific spot, although you knew supposedly it was terribly sensitive for some. You never imagined you were one of those people.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

Your eyes grew wide as you arched your back against his devilish touch, pressing the blanket into your face to muffle your tiny screams. His thumbs dug into the spot just above your hipbones while his fingers clawed into the front of your hips, emitting ticklish shocks through your entire torso with every squeeze of his fingers. He chuckled softly at your reaction, easily covered up by a round of laughter from the others as some comedic stunt occurred on screen. You tried to tap out, frantically pushing at his hands with one of your own. He ignored your silent pleas for a few more moments, clearly proud of himself for having made you a giggling, squirming mess in his arms.

Loki, like you, was not interested in answering questions from the other Avengers, and so he finally relented when he realized your struggle was beginning to become more violent. You melted into his side, taking sharp, shallow breaths as you came down from your state of euphoria. It was precious to him, how you collapsed so heavily into his arms after he’d just tormented you. He wrapped his arm around you further and tugged you to sit up a bit more comfortably against his side, resting a firm hand on your belly. You reached over and covered his hand with your own, brushing your thumb along his knuckles. Leaning your head back into his chest, you let out a deep, contented sigh that made his heart skip.

There would be questions after the movie, but not because anyone witnessed the sweet torture Loki had put you through. It was hard not to notice how you’d buried yourself against his side for the entirety of the movie. And, more importantly, it was hard to ignore the foreign, soft smile on Loki’s face.

Part 4: You are Wonderful

#ticklish!reader #tickle fluff #loki tickle #tickle fic #marvel tickle #tickle prompts #soft loki #ler!loki #lee!reader

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weasleylangs · 4 years

Text

opposites attract - f.w.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff Fem!Reader Summary: The quiet, Hufflepuff bookworm has captured the heart of the mischievous Gryffindor. Warnings: none! Word Count: 2k

A/N: For the anon that asked for Fred with a Hufflepuff reader who he’s uncharacteristically sweet for! I’m sorry it took so long, I hope you (and everyone else who reads it) enjoys it!!

P.S let me know if you’d like to be added to a tag list!

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

Y/N sits in charms, completely zoned out. Charms was always her best subject and she was luckily one of those ‘never study, always pass’ students. The same could not be said about her boyfriend, however, who was sitting across the room trying to tickle his best friend with his quill and distract him.

Y/N and Fred were an unusual couple, and no one understood how the shy Hufflepuff girl managed to catch the mischievous Gryffindor’s attention. Fred’s idea of a good time was turning the corridor into a swamp or roughhousing during quidditch practise whilst Y/N’s was curled up in front of a fire, a nice book in her hand. But no one questioned it, because somehow they made it work.

Fred caught her eye and winked. They’ve been dating for six months now and he never gets tired from the shy look on her face when he looks at her. She shakes her head, hiding behind her hair and turning her attention back to Flitwick as he drones on about their assignment.

When the bell rings, signalling next period, Fred’s across the room in no time. Y/N has her head down, grabbing her notebook and quill when Fred snatched them out of her hand whilst simultaneously grabbing her bag from the floor. “I’ll carry them for you, love,” he said, smiling.

This wasn’t unusual behaviour. Before the couple got together, everyone always thought Fred was a flirt and was hooking up with different people every weekend, and whilst they were right at the time, Fred is absolutely whipped for his badger girlfriend and hasn’t even looked at another girl since their first date. He’s always wanting to carry her books or he’s slinging an arm around her shoulder.

She has him wrapped around her finger and he couldn’t care less.

“You don’t have to do that, Freddie. You know my bag is heavy,” she says trying to grab the bag from him. Fred only takes three classes, considering the three O.W.L’s he received in their fifth year, meaning sometimes he only has one class a day. However, Y/N managed to receive ten, only failing History of Magic (‘Who fucking cares?’ was everyone’s response), resulting in her having multiple classes a day and therefore a very heavy bag.

Fred, of course, shrugs it off, “I’m a beater, darling. Nice and strong. I can barely tell that you have five textbooks in here,” he says as he winks and causes Y/N’s face to heat up as she swats him on the chest. “I’m just saying you don’t have too, I can carry my own bag,” she pouts. While she knows Fred is more than happy to lug her bag around, she hates the idea that he’s only doing it out of obligation to be a ‘good boyfriend’.

These insecurities aren’t new. She hears what people say about them and it doesn’t bother her for the most part. Just there’s only so many times she can handle people she’s not even friends with talking about how ‘Y/N isn’t right for Fred’.

“You have potions now, yes?” Fred asks, pulling Y/N out of her worries as she follows Fred through the corridors. That’s another thing she never expected, Fred learnt her timetable when they started dating so he could always walk her to class. “I do, Freddie. You have a free right, are you spending it with George and Lee?”

Fred nods, “I sure am, we’re meeting in the One-Eyed Witch passage to pop down to Honeydukes too, you need anything?” Y/N frowns at this. “Freddie, that passage is on the third floor on the other side of the school. You don’t have to walk me to potions,” she tries to grab her bag from him again and he shakes his head.

“Darling, what part of ‘I want to do this’ do you not understand?” While his tone is sharp, he’s not angry. Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever seen Fred this serious, a glint of cheekiness is always present in his eyes but right now, he looks about as serious as Snape when talking about proper cauldron care.

“I just don’t want to keep you from the boys,” she whispers, tugging at the sleeves of her robes. They stop walking, and Fred drags her body into a hug. “The boys are fine waiting, now do you want anything from Honeydukes.”

She falters for a second, just enjoying being in his presence. Despite the short amount of time they’ve been dating, Y/N knows what she feels for him is love and she can only hope the tall ginger boy feels the same way in return. His embrace can only be described as comfort, all Y/N’s worries rushing away as his familiar scent of firewood and cinnamon fills her senses.

“Some sugar quills, please,” she mumbles into his robes. “Anything for you,” he replies, pulling away and grabbing her hand. “C’mon, you’re going to be late for potions.”

It’s after dinner by the time Y/N catches Fred again. She’s walking out of the Great Hall when she feels her robes get tugged on and she almost falls over.

“Hi,” Fred says, “some sugar quills for my sugar quill.”

Y/N cringes at the cheesy nickname as she thanks him, popping the sweets into her robe pockets, “What are your plans for tonight?” Fred shrugs, more quiet than usual as he plays with Y/N’s fingers. “Nothing, I was… I was wondering if I can come and hang in the Hufflepuff common room with you?”

He’s shy and Y/N almost coos at it. Fred ‘no filter when he speaks’ Weasley is blushing as he asks his girlfriend to spend some time with her in her house common room, this is a once in a lifetime happening.

“Of course, Freddie. Any reason why?” It’s not that she doesn’t want him spending time with her. But Fred’s never expressed an interest in spending the night in, rather opting to terrorise Filch or another teacher after dinner.

“You like spending your evenings reading in front of the fire. I feel like I’ve barely seen you today,” he whispers. At this, she decides not to torture the poor boy any further and grabs his hand. “C’mon,”

They arrive at the common room in no time, no one batting an eye at the Gryffindor waltzing into the common room where he doesn’t belong. In fact, he gets quite a few “Hi Fred’s!” from people in their year. He’s always been popular and well known, so of course, the house of kindness is happy to have him.

“I’m going to run up to my dorm and change, are you sure you’re okay?” Fred nods, sitting himself down on the soft yellow chair in front of the fire. It’s Y/N’s favourite chair to read in and Fred knows it. “Sure am, hurry back before I freeze to death.”

Y/N speed changes, switching out her uniform for some sweatpants, one of Fred’s old jumpers and her favourite fuzzy sock. While she’s up there, she grabs a spare sweater she’s stolen from Fred for him to change into and her copy of ‘Frankenstein’ from her nightstand and rushes back downstairs and straight into Fred’s lap. “Hi,” she whispers, kissing him on the cheek.

Fred hums a hello as he settles into the soft pillows of the couch. Y/N perches herself next to him, slinging her legs across his lap with her back against the arm rest. “What’s it about?” Fred asks, gesturing to the book she’s just opened. He knows Y/N’s love for muggle books and he loves hearing her talk about them, even though he never understands. “A scientist who creates a ‘monster’ through experiments… It’s one of my favourites.”

She waves the book in Fred’s face and sure enough, the sticky notes and the plastic tabs are sticking out, referencing all her favourite parts. “It sounds cool, can I read it after you?”

Y/N is shy about this. Books are very important to her and she feels her sticky notes and writing in the margins are her deepest thoughts, a peep into her soul. But the boy in front of her owns her heart, every single part of it, and she decided then and there, she wants to share every part of herself with him. “Sure, but you have to promise to not judge my notes.”

He could never, the Hufflepuff girl in his lap turns his heart to mush no matter how much he tries to hide it and he can’t even imagine hurting her. He holds his pinky out, “I promise,” he says as she hooks her own with his and he presses a kiss to her forehead.

They sit in silence for a while. Fred starts conversing with members of the Hufflepuff quidditch team (“We’re going to crush you next week, Kirke” she hears Fred say at one point and she has to nudge him with her knee to not start a brawl in the common room) while Y/N reads. At one point, her hand ends up in Fred’s hair, playing with the short strands at the nape of his neck.

When she does this, Fred leans into her touch and his eyes flicker shut for only a second. She thinks she’s finally found a way to quiet him down and she makes a mental note to play with his hair next time she wants to get some reading done.

The time starts to near 10pm as Y/N starts yawning, and as much as Fred would love to stay, he knows he’ll have enough trouble getting back to Gryffindor tower without George, Lee and their trusty Mauraders Map. “I should probably get going, darling,” Fred mutters after a while and when he looks at his girlfriend, she’s pouting.

“I wish you could stay,” she says and when Fred cocks his eyebrow she laughs, “not like that, you git!”

She quickly stands, pulling Fred’s gangly body up from the couch and into her arms. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, we have double Defence,” Fred says laughing and she feels his chest rumble with laughter. “Too long,” she mumbles in reply. When Y/N gets tired, she gets clingy which was one of the earliest things Fred ever learnt about her. It’s always one of the cutest things about her.

He walks to the portrait hole, his small girlfriend clinging to his body and he presses a soft kiss to her hairline before detaching her. “Darling, I have to go.”

He feels terrible. He knows she isn’t being clingy to make him feel bad, she genuinely just wants to spend time with him. She yawns again, eyes scrunched closed as she stretches her arms that somehow end up wrapped back around his waist.

“Okay, you can go,” she gives him one final squeeze before letting him go and looking up at him and before Fred can stop himself the words are slipping out.

“I love you.”

This wakes her up immediately and her eyes are wide as she looks at him, “R-really?”

Fred was going to pretend he never said it, worried it was both too early and that she didn’t feel the same way. But the way she’s looking at him, glints of happiness in her eyes and the biggest smile he’s ever seen on her face he knows now is the right time.

“I do, I love you.”

She jumps on him again, pressing her lips to his. Her lips are soft against his, they always are and the kiss is filled with love and adoration. Neither of them is aware of how long they stand there, embraced in each other’s arms until they’re barely kissing anymore, their smiles too wide.

“I love you too, Freddie. I love you more,” she says, full seriousness in her face. “Oh love, you won’t win this argument.” He presses a kiss to her lips again before slinking out of the portrait hole, leaving Y/N standing with her fingers pressed to her lips smiling.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley

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sinswithpleasure · 3 years

Text

The Playgirl (ft. LOONA's Yves) [Part 1] [Female Reader]

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

This was supposed to be a lengthy oneshot, but I wanna have it out as I write, so... here's Part 1! Just so you know, it's futa!Yves, but I won't really mention it until at least Part 3.

Also, this is entirely female reader!

Can be found on AFF and AO3!

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

Everyone knows of Ha Sooyoung.

Most know her by her preferred name Yves, but it is the same either way—the people still have her deeply imprinted in the recesses of their minds. After all, who doesn't know of the campus fuckgirl that only goes for girls?

You are no exception to having knowledge of Sooyoung. After all, she is your seatmate for every class you had, and while she is regularly absent, she is a regular hindrance when present. During lectures, she likes to fling paper balls at unsuspecting classmates, flirt with any female classmate or TA, or play games on her mobile phone loudly. The fact that she is your seatmate only makes it worse, considering she has her feet on the table most of the time.

Now you have to tutor her. The bane of your existence. Ha Sooyoung. Yves. Tutor. Tutor her.

Your look of disbelief meeting your professor's determined gaze melts into a sigh of resignation. You know that no amount of whining or pouting would result in a win for you—Yves had the poorest performance, barely scraping through any of her tests, whereas you aced every test given during your course of study. It would only be natural for you to be tutoring her.

Yves flashes a smirk and wink from the front row of the lecture theatre, giving you a two-fingered salute as the professor leaves.

"Hey, babygirl. Guess you're my new tutor."

"Hi." You cannot help but let bitterness seep into your tone, but you bite down on the bullets you wish to fire.

"You don't seem that happy."

"No, but it's fine. Let's get down to business."

"Uh-uh, not today. I've got a party to get to. How about this, give me your phone."

You hesitantly pass her your phone, and she enters her number in.

"Call me." She flashes another smirk and a wink, pushing her hair back. The phone in your hand displays 'yves 💘'.

-----

When you call Yves, you hear more of the chatter in the background than her voice. However, she is still audible, and that is all you need.

"Hello?"

"Sooyoung. I'll tutor you beginning tomorrow."

"Oh, it's you, babygirl. Sure, see you after class?"

Huh. That was easy.

"Good, please bring along the Calculus textbook—"

Indistinct chatter rings across the line, and you vaguely hear the crowd chanting "Drink! Drink! Drink!" before Yves's voice cuts through the line again.

"Sorry, babygirl, I've got to jet. I ain't gonna win this game of beer pong talkin' to you. See you tomorrow."

Before you can even say anything, the call is cut. You take a deep breath, deciding to let it go. Maybe this would be the only time. After all, innocent until proven guilty, right?

With a long exhale, you throw yourself back into whatever work you were doing.

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

When Yves appears after class, she staggers into the classroom, clutching her head.

"Fuck, I shouldn't have drank that much last night."

She crashes on the chair next to you, immediately folding her arms on the table, resting her head on it. Her eyes open blearily when you request for her to take her Calculus textbook out.

"I didn't bring it."

You halt, frustration beginning to build.

"I thought I told you to bring it."

"Well, babygirl, I forgot. Looks like we can't do this today then." Yves rises, staggering towards the door. Repeated calls of her name fall on her deaf ears as she rounds the corner and disappears.

You take a deep breath. Tomorrow.

-----

[You sent a message:]

Yves

Tomorrow, after class.

[yves💘 sent a message:]

Hey babygirl

I've got a party tomorrow.

[You sent a message:]

You're ditching your grades for a party?

A party in the afternoon?

[yves💘 sent a message:]

Come on, live a little, it's fun to cut loose!

Yeah, I need to go set it up.

Wanna come?

[You sent a message:]

I'd rather spend my time productively, thank you. I expect to see you after class. The same place.

-----

Yves is absent again from class. Naturally, she is absent from the tutoring session. Every call you make to her goes unanswered throughout the afternoon.

You hate this. It wasn't as if tutoring her was a choice you made—the professor shunted the task to you, even after all your protests and reasoning for why you shouldn't take the job. The impression that she gives off already isn't anything good, and the fact that she actively is wasting your time only pisses you off even more.

The fact that Yves is your seatmate only adds to the frustration. Her shoes are all up in your face, the sounds of her games in your ears, her paper balls all over your table. Everything she did just pissed you off.

When you reach home, you immediately drop a call to Yves. Three rings of the phone is all it takes before she picks up the phone.

"Hey babygirl."

"Don't babygirl me. Where were you this afternoon?"

"I told you, I had a party."

"So you choose to waste my time?"

"Sorry, babe." The lack of sincerity is evident in her voice. "This is clearly more fun."

"You prioritize fun over your grades? Are you trying to fail?"

"Yo, yo, chill, chill! Cut me some slack! Take it easy. I've got time!"

"The final exams are less than half a year away."

"Precisely." Yves's smirk can be heard through the phone. "I have time."

"I don't. Stop wasting my time. Come tomorrow."

"Oh, fiery. Just my type." Yves chuckles, before she pisses you off even further. "I'll see you, just not tomorrow."

"Why not?"

"I'll be busy nursing my hangover. Ciao." The call is cut.

You growl in frustration, squeezing the pen in your hand tightly. How easily she dismisses you only serves to fuel your anger. How could someone give no shits about their future?

Yves was basically the opposite of what you stood for. To you, school was an obligation—something necessary in order to move forward and succeed. This meant that people had to possess the responsibility to keep to this commitment so they could succeed in life. The future is uncertain, so you should make every effort to ensure that you can forge a path that is as certain as it can be.

Yves, however, treated school like a waste of time. To be out having fun mattered more—life and the future is uncertain, so if she could afford the time to live in the moment, then she would take the time to. Why pressure oneself to engineer perfection when imperfection is how the world runs?

This was a constant argument between the both of you when Yves was present in school. On the days she came, you had to fight to pay attention to your professor since the both of you would argue. You hated having to defend your point of view against her, since she was deeply set in her contrasting view. You hate how carefree she is. How is it that someone can live without worrying that much?

When you let your vision focus, you take a deep breath and go back to your work.

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

You are ten minutes early for class. Chatter fills the classroom as per usual. When you reach your seat, your ears perk up at a familiar name.

"... you hear Yves took her home last night?"

"... sex … fucked her the whole night … best time of her life …"

You scowl. Even when she wasn't present, you had to hear about her, and even worse, her womanizing and hedonistic lifestyle. Who cares about her?

"Good morning, babygirl."

The bane of your existence appears before your very eyes, leaning over your desk with her signature smirk. You give her a glare, but not before you fail to resist checking her out.

Yes, she is admittedly hot. But insufferable. But hot. Facts are facts.

Her hair slicked back, check. Leather jacket, check. Fishnets and crop top fitting her… appealing chest, check. Tight pants that fit her figure, check. Fuck, she looks so good.

"My eyes are up here." Yves pushes your head up to meet her gaze with a finger. The smug smirk on her face makes you want to slap it off her. "If you want me, all you have to do is ask."

"Why're you here?"

"Someone who places such importance in school doesn't want her seatmate present? I'm hurt, babe."

"Fuck off. Don't touch me." You shift away from her touch, and Yves grins.

"I came to see you, my favourite tutor. You're interesting."

"Put that interest in your studies."

"No, I don't think I will, not when you're this pretty."

You try to fight the blush that appears on your face, but it seems that you fail—Yves's cocky grin only gets bigger when she reclines in her chair, resting her feet on the table.

This is your second year with Yves as a seatmate. The girl next to you somehow managed to scrape past first year, and now here she is, staring at you with an amused smirk, annoying you just as she had since Day 1.

"Y'know, I mean it when I say you're pretty."

"Thank you." You grit your teeth, though how red your face remains betrays your hidden feelings. After all, girls don't really compliment you that often, let alone a hot one like Yves is.

"Mm, you're welcome." Yves smiles, resting her head on her chair. "I'll depend on your tutoring, babygirl. Goodnight."

"You're going to sleep?"

"Yep. I'll just listen attentively to you later, cutie."

"I would prefer it if you paid attention now."

"What, and stare at the prof's ugly mug? Why would I do that when I can take the time to stare at your beautiful face instead?"

"Fuck off."

"Ooh, you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Yves's grin shows how little offense she takes at your rebuttal. "I like you, baby."

You decide to ignore Yves. Ignore how she easily infuriates you. Ignore how hot she is. Ignore the compliments that make heat rise from your cheeks and neck.

Insufferable.

-----

Yves takes a long time to rise from her slumber. You try to shake her, but Yves remains steadfastly asleep on her chair.

"Yves. Wake up."

"Mmnnngggh."

"Wake up, wake up."

"Five more minutes."

"No." You heave a sigh. "Wake. Up."

"Fine, fine, babygirl. You're such a killjoy."

"Do not 'babygirl' me. Let's start."

You pull out your Calculus textbook. Yves halfheartedly pulls hers out as well, and you flip both books to a summary exercise.

"Do these. I need to know your current ability."

"Only because you're pretty, babygirl." Yves picks up her pen, beginning to work on the questions.

-----

"How are you getting all these wrong?"

Your tutee shrugs, leaning back on her chair. "Who cares?"

"I do! You're going to fail."

"Aw babygirl, you do care about me."

"Shut the fuck up. There's so much work I need to do with you."

"Meh, whatever." Yves stretches in her chair, leaning back to close her eyes. "Do your magic, tutor. Teach me."

"Fine. Let's begin."

-----

Both you and Yves part ways at the gate of the campus. After a tense session involving multiple arguments when Yves used more of her phone than to attempt learning anything you were teaching, or when she started to look up girls on Tinder, you gave up and halted the session.

"See you soon, babygirl."

"Fuck you."

"Anytime, babe. You just have to ask."

"Fuck off."

"Calm down. It's not like we don't have time."

"We don't."

"Not with that attitude."

"Fuck your attitude."

Yves only grins when she hears your reply.

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

Another tutoring session, another Yves absence. This time, when you call her, you're met with the obscene sounds of Yves engaging in sexual intercourse.

"Hey babygirl."

"Yves. Where are—huh?"

Wet smacks echo loudly through the speaker on your phone. Someone moans on the other side. Regular thumps ring through your speakers.

"I'm a little busy now, baby."

"Wha—what the fuck?"

"As you can hear, I'm busy fucking someone. Bye."

The dial tone that enters your ears almost makes you smash your phone on the table to pieces. You instead settle on smashing your fist against the table instead.

This is the last straw.

-----

The next time you see Yves, you pin her against the wall. Taken by surprise, Yves finds herself in a position she usually puts others into. Smirking, she relents.

"Didn't take you to be so forward."

"This is the last fucking time I'm taking your shit. I've had it with your constant excuses about parties, or whatever. Now, you choose to go fuck some bitch even when you know you have stuff to do. I'm fucking done. I quit."

"Come on, don't be like that, baby." Yves's cocky grin widens. "Maybe I need some more motivation."

"If having your life planned out isn't motivating enough, nothing will work."

"Oh, but I had this wonderful idea…"

You resist taking the bait, but having Yves pinned against the wall fucks with your judgement.

"What?"

Today, Yves is clad in all black leather. Whatever she's wearing doesn't catch your eye—the fact that your face is so close to Yves's flusters you. The same slicked back hair, scarlet lipstick across her kissable lips, a cocky glint in her eye, catching your gaze before traveling down to your lips, then below…

"I've seen the way you look at me, babygirl. You say you hate me, but all I see in your eyes is lust right now. You want me so bad, don't you?"

"Sh-shut the fuck up." You curse at the slight stutter.

"So how about this? I'll be the best student you'll ever have, and if I ace the exams at the end of the year… hmm."

Yves lets her voice trail off, knowing she has your full attention.

"What the fuck do you want?'

"If I ace the exams, I get to fuck you."

You cannot believe your ears.

"What?"

"I said what I said. I'll be the best student you'll have. I'll ace the exams. And when I do, you'll sleep with me."

"Why the fuck would I say yes to that?"

In an instant, Yves flips you around. Your back is now against the wall, your arms held against your will, held down by Yves's grip. Yves leans in.

"Because you think I'm hot."

You subconsciously lean in when you feel her hot breath on your lips, and Yves leans in as well. Something soft presses against your lips. Instantly, she is off you, smirking.

"See you around babygirl. Don't think about me too much."

So you agree.

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #loona yves #ha sooyoung #loona fanfiction

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cafeacademic · 3 years

Note

omg congrats on your milestone!!!! here’s to many more *clink clink*,,, anyways i loVED YOUR ‘off the record’ with fox, and i’m a s1ut for him sOOO maybe prompt 31? f/gn!reader is cool!!

Fox sluts unite I love that man so much. here is some pure smut for our man because he deserves some time off and a bunch of smooches. hope you enjoy my lovely thank you for all your support <33

also i saw that you were working on a new fox thing as well very excited for that👀👀

On Background

click above for AO3 link

Pairing: Fox x Reader

Rating: Explicit (You know the drill)

Warnings: PiV sex, oral sex (m receiving), orgasm denial, teasing, semi-public sex, some objectification of reader (but it's pretty tame)

Word Count: 2.2k

When Fox stumbled into your apartment one night, the first thing he saw was you slamming the door to your closet closed.

“You alright, princess?” he asked warily. He rolled his neck as he removed his bucket, trying to ease some of the tension of the day.

“Yep!” you said a little too eagerly. Fox closed the gap between the two of you, lifting your chin with his forefinger. You looked up at him innocently.

“What are you hiding?” he teased. Leaning into his touch, you smirked.

“Oh, just work stuff. Wouldn’t want to bore you,” you said. Fox narrowed his eyes but didn’t press you further. “Are you working the Chancellor’s speech tomorrow?”

“Don’t remind me,” Fox groaned. The Chancellor’s annual speech was never a fun night for the Guard; they often had to arrive early to help set up, listening to Palpatine fuss for several hours before the actual main event. If that wasn’t already draining, they often had to hear faux praise from the various elites that attended the event, though they knew that most considered them less than human. Sensing that Fox was getting lost in his thoughts, you reached up to plant a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“I’ll make sure to stop by then,” you said, snuggling into his hold. Fox rested his chin on the top of your head, enjoying the feeling of being held.

~~~

The next day, Fox was running around, trying to ensure that everything was set up for the Chancellor’s speech, at least security-wise. In between pretending to listen to the demands of Palpatine and downing cups of caf from the break room, he would respond to the silly comms you would send him. On typical days, you would complain about your coworkers or send him pictures of cute lothcats you saw on the holonet. Today, however, your messages were suspiciously short.

“Miss you xoxo,” your last message read. That had been nearly two hours ago, and Fox hadn’t heard from you since. It was probably for the best, considering how much work he had to do, but it still hurt a bit.

“Are you stopping by?” he tapped out a message to you. A few minutes later, his commlink buzzed.

“Something came up. Have to take the time to get ready for a work thing tonight,” you replied. Normally, Fox would have sulked at the fact that you couldn’t visit, but he was instead intrigued by the fact that you had followed up your message with a photo attachment.

He nearly dropped the comm when he opened the picture. You were laid out on your bed, crisp white blouse unbuttoned and falling off your shoulder. A thin, lacy bra covered your chest, the material a perfect Corrie Guard red. At the very bottom of the photo, Fox could see that your skirt was hiked up over your hips, allowing just a glimpse of the matching panties.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he typed back. He could imagine you smirking down at your comm as you tapped out a response, the image only making his half-hard cock press even tighter against his codpiece. A soft buzz alerted him to your response.

“Is it a good look? I’ve been told that we’re supposed to dress nicely for the Chancellor’s speech. Wouldn’t want to make a poor impression on my first time covering the event,”

Fox nearly groaned out loud; there would be no way he could concentrate if you were going to be at the speech tonight. All he would be able to think about would be how badly he needed to see you in the pretty lingerie you were wearing.

“You better behave tonight,” Fox responded. It was only a few seconds before your reply came.

“But where’s the fun in that, Commander?”

This time, Fox did groan out loud.

By two minutes into the Chancellor’s speech, Fox was already bored out of his mind. Instead of being on alert for attempted assassinations as Palpatine had requested, his eyes were scanning the crowd for you. The general comm chatter from his brothers had become a background hum as he searched for your telltale white blouse.

When he finally found you, he was almost embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed you sooner. You were sitting in the press box near the front, near enough that you could pick up all the details of the speech but out of the way enough that the Chancellor couldn’t see you. As if you could feel his gaze, your eyes immediately snapped to Fox’s visor. You bit your lip teasingly as you toyed with the top button of your blouse. Fox straightened his posture, hoping to convey as much warning as he could with just his body language. You either didn’t notice or didn’t care; likely the latter, seeing as you popped the button with ease and pulled your neckline open slightly, revealing just the top of the lace covering your breasts.

“Hey Fox, you see that girl in the press pit?” Thire’s voice cut through the comm chatter that Fox had blocked out. Thire’s comment, however, snapped him right back to his senses.

“What about her?” Fox snapped back a little too defensively.

“She’s cute, isn’t she? Keeps toying with the hem of her skirt,” Thire commented. Fox bit his tongue to keep from snapping at his brother.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind tearing that skirt off of her!” Hound added with a snort. Thire hummed in agreement. Before Fox could start yelling at his brothers, Thorn cut into the conversation.

“Hey, vod? I think that’s the Commander’s girl,” he said warily. Thorn was the only one Fox had confided in about his newfound relationship, and that was mostly because he had heard the two of you going at it in Fox’s office. A number of curses poured over the comm, and Fox smirked at the panicked apologies his brothers gave.

Turning his attention back to you, Fox noted that the second button on your blouse had also come undone. The crimson lace was now peeking prominently through your neckline, and you had a smirk plastered on your face. With a wink, you spread your legs in your chair slightly, allowing Fox a glimpse of your panties.

Faking an important message, Fox pulled out his comm and quickly tapped out a warning: “Keep that up and you’re not going to like your punishment,”

You checked your comm and responded quickly, still smirking. “Aww, can’t handle a little teasing?”

Fox growled quietly under his helmet. Just as he was about to type out a message back, he was roused from his thoughts by thunderous applause, signaling that the Chancellor had finished speaking. Mentally, Fox made a note to thank Palpatine for keeping it short this year. As soon as he was off the stage, he sent you a quick message. “My office. Now.”

You were already sitting on his desk when Fox entered his office, swinging your legs innocently.

“Fucking finally! I’ve been trying to get you alone all night!” you said, hopping off the desk and reaching for your lover. Before you could get to him, however, Fox scooped you up in his arms and pressed your back against the wall.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” he growled, voice still modulated by his helmet. You smirked up at him.

“What, you didn’t like my little show? I got all dressed up for you and everything!” you pouted, reaching to take off Fox’s helmet. His hand shot out and gripped your wrist before you could touch him.

“No way, sweetheart,” he said, grinding against you. “You’re not getting away with teasing me that easily,”

Holding you steady against the wall with his hips, he ripped your shirt in two, the remaining buttons flying around the room. He could still feel the heat of your breasts, even through his gloves. You squealed as he pinched your nipple through your bra, admiring how the bud peaked through the red lace. In the back of his mind, Fox worried that he was being too rough with you, that you might not like how he was touching you. His worries were calmed, however, when he saw the absolutely delighted look on your face as you squirmed out of his grasp and sank to your knees.

“Can I please suck your cock, Commander?” you batted your eyelashes. Fox nodded and you launched for his codpiece, getting the armor off in record time. You grinned devilishly at him as you pulled his cock out of his blacks, the tip already flushed a rosy brown and a bead of precum leaking from the tip. When you licked teasingly up the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock, Fox reached out to roughly tangle his fingers in your hair.

“Don’t tease. You’re in enough trouble as it is,” he warned. You obliged, taking him all the way down your throat in one motion. Fox swore loudly, trying to keep from bucking into your mouth. You worked what you couldn’t reach with your hand, twisting your wrist to spread the saliva that was slicking his cock. When Fox’s grip on your hair tightened, you pulled off of him with a pop.

“Was that what you wanted, sir?” you teased. Before Fox could scold you, his words caught in his chest as you began pumping him again, this time slowly working down him with your mouth. The modulated groans of the clone above you made you rub your thighs together for some sort of relief. When you thought he was distracted enough by your tongue, you slid a hand down between your legs.

“Oh, sweetheart. You just keep testing me, don’t you?” Fox growled, tugging you off of his cock by the hair. You looked down sheepishly, not having expected to get caught. Fox quickly discarded his helmet before yanking you back to your feet.

“‘M sorry, sir,” you said. Fox looked like he was going to fall victim to your puppy dog eyes, but he shook his head and adjusted you so he could have access to your clothed cunt. With two fingers, he slid the scrap of fabric to the side, inhaling sharply when he noticed how wet you were.

“Does putting on a show like that get you this wet?” Fox said, lining himself up with your entrance. “You know all my brothers could see you?”

“Really-- fuck!” your words were interrupted by the stretch of Fox sliding into you with one movement. Normally, you would’ve been upset that he didn’t touch you first, but you were so turned on that he slid in with little resistance.

“They were all drooling over you, sweetheart,” Fox said through gritted teeth as he fucked you. The slight jealousy he felt was obvious not just in his voice, but in the rough way he was fucking you, almost as if he was worried you’d disappear out from under him. You grabbed his chin and kissed him passionately.

“Mhmm, but you’re the only one who gets to fuck me, Commander,” you said when you pulled away from the kiss. “I’m all yours, Fox,”

That seemed to unlock something in Fox’s head, because he began fucking you with even more force, trying to get as deep inside you as he could with every thrust. He began to mouth at your collarbone, teeth grazing over the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, that’s right. Mine,” he repeated into your neck. You scrambled for purchase on the plastoid armor he was still wearing as he ruined you, moans pouring out of you too loudly for the only semi-private office. Neither of you seemed to care, though.

“Fuck, Fox, I wanna come,” you whined, shivering from when his groin rubbed against your clit with a well-angled thrust. Fox seemed to contemplate for a moment before grinning into your collarbone.

“No,”

“What do you mean no? Shit, Fox!” you cried out. Fox’s thrusts were getting sloppy, and you knew he was close.

“I mean no. I’m gonna fill up this pussy, and then we’re going to go home, and if you’re good, maybe I’ll let you come then,” Fox said, voice shaking slightly.

“Shit, you can’t be serious. Come on, I’m so close,” you said breathlessly as Fox’s hips snapped into yours with such force that you slid up the wall you were pressed against.

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before teasing me all night,” Fox growled, breathing heavily. You whined in protest, but he had made up his mind. “Fuck, you’re all mine. I’m the only one who should get to see you like this,”

“All yours, Fox. Only yours,” you moaned, and that sent Fox over the edge. He bit down harshly on your shoulder to muffle his loud groan as he emptied himself inside you. Fox slumped against the wall, leaning into your body, and you pressed gentle kisses to his temple as he recovered.

“You know, I love you and everything, but I need you to get me home so you can fuck me properly,” you said, the serene smile on your face in sharp contrast to how needy you felt. Fox pulled back, leaving one last kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Are you ever going to learn to behave?” he said with mock exasperation.

“No, you like me better this way,” you teased back, making yourself presentable before pulling a lovestruck Fox out of his office, the two of you too enamored with each other to register the catcalls from the other guardsmen.

#commander fox x reader #commander fox fanfiction #commander fox smut #tcw fanfic #the clone wars smut #the clone wars fanfiction #commander fox #cc 1010 #cafeacademics 104 celebration

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userjoel · 3 years

Text

[ ♡ morning kisses ♡ ] ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

[ prompt ]

‘‘i’m not going to kiss you.’‘ ‘‘why?’‘ ‘‘because if i do, i don’t think we’re getting out of bed today.’‘ followed by the character placing a playful kiss on their lover’s mouth as they get out of bed (via)

[ pairing ] : tom holland x reader

[ warnings ] : a lot of kissing, they kinda sorta get a little handsy? it’s just very fluffy and i’m still trying to figure out what exactly warrants warnings so some kind feedback would be very appreciated...!

[ word count ] : 1.5k

[ note ] : this is my first ever fic, and it’s been a minute since i wrote...anything really? so i have no idea how this is going to read for others, but!! i had fun writing this, so i hope you guys enjoy!

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

You wished every morning could be just like this: eyes coaxed open by the warm rays pouring through the windows, your frame safely tucked against Tom’s body with his arm draped over your waist.

Once you manage to blink away the sleep, you roll over to face him, being careful not to wake him in the process.

And he looks perfect. You lie there and run your eyes over him—it feels a little surreal to take him in this way. Just several hours ago he was on a plane coming back home to you after an excruciating month of being apart. But now, here he was — physically, actually here — lost somewhere deep in his dreams. By a rare stroke of luck you’ve woken up before him. So naturally, you're gonna use those valuable seconds by trying to memorize every little detail of his face.

Nothing has felt more relaxing. A little too relaxing, in fact, but you fight the sleep that threatens to creep back, fixating instead on the way the sunlight licks at the tips of his unruly brown curls, slowly inching down his features. And if the sun were allowed to touch him, weren’t you, too?

You hold your breath as your index finger reaches out and delicately traces along his brow bone.

When it seems clear the action hasn’t stirred him from his sleep, you continue to ghost across the surface of his skin, taking your time as your finger trails down his cheek bone, to the bridge of his nose, and to his lips. Then it lingers there for a second too long.

“I think I quite like this sort of wake up call.”

Your whip your hand away like it had just touched something hot, eyes blown wide in surprise.

“You’re awake.” The sentence comes out more as an observation than a question, and you can feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“I... may or may not have been up since I felt you turn over earlier.” His eyes, still sanded with sleep and exhaustion, finally open to meet yours. But his ever-present, boyish amusement doesn’t fail to glitter from behind the chocolate orbs.

And it had always been these minor things that made your heart glow with warmth for the boy in front of you. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to wake you,” you mumble, a pout forming at the end of the sentence as you caress his cheek.

Tom hums in reply, leaning into your touch as he shakes his head, as though to tell you not to worry. His arms reach around you to pull you closer to him. “No, I’m glad you did. I reckon I should probably get ready anyway. What time is it?”

“No. Nuh-uh. C’mon, I just got you back!” Your hand comes up to cover his eyes, shielding his vision from the clock by your bed. “Unless by ‘get ready,’ you mean ‘get ready to spend all day with your loving girlfriend and not go to work’?”

“Y/N/N,” he groans playfully, shaking his head side to side to try and remove your hand, but you persist, a grin decorating your features. “The sooner I get out of here, the sooner I can wrap up and come back home to you love, hm?” He turns his head slightly, just enough to give the inside of your wrist a quick peck. “Give me my eyes baaaaack.”

Reluctantly you concede, but by parting your fingers just enough so he could peek between the gap. The corners of his eyes crinkle when he finally sees you, and before you can say anything else, he closes the distance to give you the first kiss of the day.

It’s deliciously soft and lazy, purposeful and loving. The feeling sends a kind of shock through your veins, reaching down to the tip of your toes. His lips move against yours with ease in the same way they’ve done a thousand times before, effectively bringing all your guards down — your hand comes down too, slipping behind his neck to toy with the hair on his nape. Your leg innocently tangles with his, bringing your bodies even closer together, and you feel his hand delicately moving from the your lower back to your ass, giving it a small squeeze.

You hum against his lips for more; but that’s the exact moment he decides to pull away. And as much as you hated it, you knew as well as he did that one second longer and that would probably mean neither of you'd likely have a very productive morning. Not that that would be so bad for you, necessarily.

Tom rolls you over on your back, peppering your cheeks, neck, and collarbone with feathery kisses that you knew translated into an apology. He nestles his head on your chest with a quiet sigh, consumed by the silence and the rhythmical thump of your heartbeat.

“Wish I didn’t have to go to bloody work.” He mumbles against your skin, cuddling even closer against you as your fingers gently comb through his hair. "Wish I didn't have to leave you again."

But you both knew it went without saying that Tom loved what he did; how he couldn’t imagine being anything else but an actor. The physical and mental demand of his work, the exhausting, erratic hours, the different types of people he had to deal with on a daily basis — he could handle all of that, and then some. But when it came down to being away from you not just in the early hours of the morning but for weeks, and sometimes even months at a time… That was the hard part. Those were the moments when he dared to invite the addictive ‘what-if’s and tempting fantasies of an alternative reality where neither of you had any obligations to tend to, no urgent work messages to check on the phone.

“Duty calls, right?” You can still feel your lips tingle from his kiss. “At least you don’t have anything on your schedule tomorrow. Means I’ll get to have you all to myself.”

At that, you suddenly feel the weight of your boyfriend removed from your body. Tom props himself up a bit to lean over you, hands on the bed by either side of your head. There’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, suggesting something both sinister and delightful.

“For once you’re wrong, darling.” He grins. “I’ve got a full schedule tomorrow and a fairly good feeling that you're going to love what I’ve got planned out for you.”

You raise your brow. “'That right? Thirty-something days apart and suddenly you’re so cocky.” With a teasing smile, you drape your arms around his neck, gaze lingering on his inviting lips for a moment before lifting back up on his eyes.

“But fine," you begin, your voice just slightly hushed. "What if...you show me a little, tiny sneak peek, baby...and I can tell you...what I think of your little schedule so far?” With each passing syllable you pull him down closer to you –– bit by bit, and sneakily enough, you tell yourself. Your eyes flutter shut, anticipating what’s to come, but the kiss never lands. You feel the teasing tickle of skin on skin instead.

“Y’think I don’t know all about your antics, don’t you?”

“‘Antics’?!” Your open your eyes again with a frown. “I think some would call that the art of flirting. Or teasing. Or both. But I guess you wouldn’t know that even if it were right under your nose.” Your finger pokes the tip of Tom’s nose for emphasis.

He tuts and shrugs in acknowledgement. “Well tough luck, babe. I’m still not gonna kiss you.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, one hand leaving your side to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Why not?” You huff.

“Because if I do, I don’t think either of us are ever going to make it out of this bed.”

“But—” Before you can fully protest, you’re caught off-guard with the very kiss you were denied just moments ago. And maybe that was why, but somehow, it feels even better than the last. Your chin cranes up to hold his lips for as long as you possibly can, melting under his touch and savoring what you could.

He reluctantly tears away, much sooner than you’d like. He leaves you with a final peck against the tip of your nose.

“I love you. So much.” He rests his forehead against yours again. “And I’m sorry we can’t spend my first day back together, darling. But I’ll make it up to you, hm? I promise.”

“Pinky swear?” You hold up your finger between your two frames, and he doesn't think twice before looking down to loop his finger with yours. The pads of your thumbs press together to seal the deal, and he brings your interlocked hands up to gently press it against his lips.

It was a gesture frequently shared between you two — a secret handshake, if you will — but only for private moments like this.

“Pinky pinky swear.” He reassures, giving your hand a small squeeze before finally removing himself from the bed. “I’m gonna go shower now. Be good.” The mattress echos your groan as your boyfriend disappears from your reach and into the bathroom.

Your eyes glance over at the clock, frowning at the time and blaming it for the outcome of what had been, at one point, your perfect morning. It already felt like a distant memory.

#can you tell i didn't know how to end this #skdfsafj #writing really is like bearing your soul to the world #and like that's fine it's cool it's whatever #if it's bad...pls don't yell @ me #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #hope writes

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earlgreydream · 3 years

Text

new york.

| draco malfoy x reader | fluff |

cw: a bit of soft smut, swearing

“Come on, Draco,” you grabbed his hand, pulling him through the streets of New York. His eyes were wide, and he marveled at everything.

Before dating you, Draco had stayed in the wizard world, barely leaving London. He kept within places of magic, and had never really seen muggle life.

Now, the two of you were eighteen, and you’d managed to free him from a summer at Malfoy Manor. He’d agreed to go to America with you for the summer, though he was extremely hesitant to spend a summer in the muggle world.

“New York IS magical!” You had insisted to Draco, and he gave in once he realized how happy it would make you. And secretly, he was curious to see where you had grown up.

Oh, and that you had braved your entire Christmas break at Malfoy Manor, under the scrutiny of Lucius, who was incredibly unfriendly and unwelcoming to his son’s mudblood girlfriend.

“We’re staying in my apartment. It’ll be just us, Draco. You don’t need to worry about impressing anyone,” you had promised your anxious boyfriend.

Now, Draco’s silver eyes couldn’t take in all of Times Square. He looked like a startled child, and you giggled at his wide eyes.

“This is crazy, Y/N, everything is all lit up-” Draco gaped at the signs. You walked slower, keeping in time with him as he took it all in. Your hand held onto his arm, keeping you together as you navigated the busy square.

You looked up at the sky, dark clouds hanging heavy overhead. Thunder boomed in the distance, just over the sound of the street.

“It’s going to rain. Time for an indoor activity,” you broke Draco from his trance, and the two of you made it to a small staircase outside of a building. Draco hesitated, and you dragged him down into the underbelly of the city, into a lounge you frequented whenever you were in the city.

You were greeted by buzzing neon lights, printed carpet, and arcade machines. Everything was retro, looking like you’d stepped into the 80s. You ordered soda before pulling your boyfriend to an arcade game. He looked unsure, and you grinned at him, setting your things down.

“What is this?” Draco asked, looking around curiously.

“This is an arcade. We play these games, I’ll show you.” You put a coin in the slot of the machine and showed Draco how to play Pac-Man.

“Want to try?” You asked, moving over to let him try after you finished demonstrating. He nodded, gingerly pressing the buttons. A frown knitted on his face as he struggled, not doing near as well as you.

“Can I try again?!”

“Sure, babe.” You slipped another coin in the slot, and he attempted a second time, still barely making any points.

“Draco, it’s just a game, relax,” you smoothed yourself hands down his arms as he tensed up with frustration. It was taking all of your strength not to laugh at him as he fought with the game.

“I can’t even win against a bloody muggle contraption-” Draco huffed and a couple teenagers turned their heads.

“It’s alright, they’re hard. Some take practice. Let’s try another one.” You sipped on your sprite, giving Draco a quick kiss to calm him down. He hummed softly and followed you to a different game. Thankfully, he was slightly better at the second one, and his bad mood faded with your encouragement.

You spent the entire afternoon there, eventually swapping arcade games to bowl in the alley at the back. You knew Draco was using magic, because he striked every time. You rolled your eyes as onlookers stared in awe, and he grinned at you with a wink.

“It’s not fun if you cheat.” You told him, and he kissed you.

“No, but I’ll play fair next round.” You let him, knowing he wanted to redeem himself of being embarrassingly shit at the games.

You had only dropped your bags at your apartment, but the two of you had been out since your flight landed this morning. You were starting to get tired, and you could sense Draco was too.

“I’m starving, and the rain has let up. Want to get something to eat?” You asked Draco, and he nodded, holding out his hand for you to take. You grinned and intertwined your fingers, walking out to the damp street with him.

“Come on, there’s a great deep dish pizza place closer to my apartment.” You led him into the subway, and his arm wrapped around your waist protectively as you waited for your train. His chest was pressed to your back, his grip on you secure.

“We’re safe.” You rubbed his arm that was under your ribs, but he didn’t relax. You rode the train downtown a bit, before getting off in lower manhattan.

“It’s just up here.” You told him, tightening your jacket as the night got colder. The two of you walked half a block into a New York deep dish pizza parlor, and Draco smiled at the delicious smell as you entered.

“Two,” you said to the waiter, and he sat you down at a booth in the corner. Draco’s hand rested on your knee, and the two of you ordered their restaurant original pizza, sipping on ginger beer as you waited.

“This is your New York?”

You hummed, nodding in response. He kissed your cheek sweetly, openly affectionate with you in the public setting.

“Tomorrow we’ll go to the MET so you can see the art,” you said, reaching up to brush a stray piece of hair from his face. He leaned down and kissed you softly, one of his arms around your shoulders as the two of you sat on the same side of the table.

“I’m excited.”

“Me too, it will be fun!” You agreed. You turned as the waiter set down the pizza in front of the two of you, and Draco’s eyebrows shot up.

“This is huge, Y/N!”

The waiter smiled and left you alone, and you sliced off a piece, handing it to him before serving yourself.

“We’ll put the leftovers in the fridge at home. Try it. You’ll like it, I promise.” You encouraged him, and he did so with excitement.

“Oh my gods, this is so good!” He exclaimed, making you giggle.

“New York isn’t half bad, is it?”

He shook his head, silver eyes shining. You enjoyed your pizza, watching people walk by out the window. Draco had already expressed his anxiety over not only the amount of traffic in New York, but also of the cars driving on the wrong side of the street. You giggled at his disdain for the incessant honking, used to the quiet serenity of Malfoy Manor.

You were yawning by the time you walked the last three blocks to your apartment, Draco’s hand on your lower back as you slid your key into the lock. You let yourselves in, kicking off your shoes and losing your jackets in the hall. Draco took his time looking at your apartment now that you had time, and you let him wander as you put your extra pizza in the fridge.

You watched him run his fingers over your books and look at plants and various things of yours that were set around. You leaned in the doorway, unnoticed by him, observing him peek into your life. He picked up a small stuffed bunny off of your bookshelf, an endearing smile on his face as he carefully set it back down.

“I love your room,” Draco said when you stepped in, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting against his back.

“Thank you.”

“Let’s wash the city off,” you said, tossing your jeans into the bin, stripping off the rest of your clothes as he watched, following suit.

You giggled as he chased you into the bathroom, lightly tickling your sides. You turned on the shower, stepping under hot water and pulling your boyfriend in with you. He kissed you deeply, water running over your bodies. He squeezed soap onto his hands and began to glide them over your skin, squeezing your ass in the process. He definitely spent extra time on your chest, and you did the same to him, washing him up. Your giggles echoed in the shower chamber, and Draco left hot kisses over your neck, shoulder, and chest.

Draco lifted you onto the wide tile shelf, kissing you deeply, his tongue invading your mouth. Your fingers tangled into his wet hair, and you spread your legs for him to stand between.

A loud moan escaped you as he slowly entered you, a slight discomfort forming as a result of your lack of regular sex at the castle.

“Please— fuck— move,” you begged Draco, dragging your nails up his back.

He obliged happily, fucking you slowly, careful not to be too rough. Your chest was heaving, your body on fire against the cold tile of the shower, everything slick and steamy. Draco’s mouth moved along your neck and jaw, and your head was spinning as his hips repeatedly met yours.

“Need to feel you come around me, love,” Draco murmured, tweaking your nipples lightly, drawing a squeal from you.

“I’m close, just, a little faster,” you panted, gripping his shoulders. Within minutes you were coming undone, and you wouldn’t collapsed if it wasn’t for the shelf holding most of your weight. You felt Draco’s orgasm follow, leaving you both lightheaded and airy.

“Give me a minute before I can stand up.” You laughed, holding onto his arm to steady you.

The two of you finished getting clean, and you dried off before going to your bed. Your head rested on his chest, fingers tracing shapes over his milky skin until you fell asleep.

You woke up the next morning to soft noises in the kitchen. You got up and pulled Draco’s t shirt over your head, walking out to the kitchen to find Draco struggling.

“I was going to bring you some tea in bed but I can’t find the kettle.” He complained, and you giggled, shaking your head.

“What? Why’re you laughing at me?” He demanded, and you held his cheeks and kissed him.

“Hand me two cups, Malfoy.” You ordered, using his last name. His nose scrunched up, and he bit back the urge to complain about how you addressed him.

He obeyed you, and you filled the cups with filtered water, and put them in the microwave.

“You’re joking-” he started, and you cut him off with another kiss.

“We’re in america, sweetheart. I haven’t got a kettle.”

He was disturbed by your lack of kettle, but he trusted you to make good tea, and he didn’t want to upset you by judging your American ways. The term mudblood pricked into the back of his mind, instilled by his horrid father. He pushed the thought away, and wrapped his arms around you. He didn’t speak, but he hugged you tightly, and you rested against him.

“I love you,” his voice was full of such urgency, you didn’t know what had crossed his mind that made him feel the need to hold you so tightly and remind you of his affection.

“I love you too, Draco.” You touched his face gently, looking into his eyes.

You broke away to drop tea bags into your now-hot water. You put a bit of cream in Draco’s how he preferred it, and he kissed your cheek, pulling the two of you back to bed with your tea.

“We can get ready after this.” You decided, enjoying the warmth of your bed. Draco loved your tea, and he finished his more quickly than you. He traced the flowers printed on the duvet, listening to you talk about the museum you were taking him to.

He was enjoying the city so far, even though the noise had kept him up. He got dressed and admired you in a little white sundress. You spun around for him, and he kissed your lips, catching you and pulling you into him.

He couldn’t keep off of you now that the two of you had space. You’d graduated, and you were free. You could openly be loving without the judgement of teachers or other students, and no one was around that Draco had to protect his reputation from.

He was always kissing you, holding your hand, or letting his hand rest on your knee now that you were away from judgemental gazes. He enjoyed just being with you. Draco was much more relaxed away from his family and aristocratic peers, and your life together in America was coming a solid reality.

Draco’s thumb brushed over the back of your hand as the two of you ascended the steps up to the MET. You turned, grinning at him in the sunshine, and you pushed up on your toes, kissing him sweetly.

“I love you!” Draco announced when you dropped back down from kissing him, and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I love you too, Draco.”

He let you pull him inside, and the two of you spent the entire day wandering through the endless rooms in the art museum, admiring the paintings, drawings, sculptures, and artifacts.

Draco’s eyes lit up at the sketches of the dancers, he studied them for a long time.

“I think I’d like to try art.” Draco informed you, and you looked up at him.

“You should, I think you’d be good at it.” You spoke encouragingly, and he smiled down at you.

“Do you mean that?”

“I do.” You rubbed his arm and kissed his shoulder.

“Come on, I want to see the impressionists. That’s my favorite part of this place.”

He followed you, standing behind you as you admired the paintings. His arms were around your waist, and his head rested on your shoulder as he looked at the paintings with you.

You stayed at the museum until it closed, going home and eating the leftover pizza on the balcony. You handed Draco a sketchbook you had, and some pens, earning a smile.

“I can use them?”

“Of course.” You nodded, and he began to sketch you, sitting there. You listened to the cars below, and happy people singing in an apartment above yours. His sketch was beautiful, and you smiled at him dreamily.

#draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco fluff #draco smut #draco #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy smut #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco fanfic #draco malfoy fanfic #harry potter #hogwarts

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heartfulofsighs · 3 years

Text

Nice Things…

Hello All! Coming back with little writings here and there as my inspiration comes along. A little episode inside of the Something to do with Jackson sphere (1, 2)

Let me know what you think! @negrowhat you know I gotta tag you in everything lol

Jackson decides you both are in need of a little rest and relaxation. Nothing is better then a nice beach house complete with a gigantic bath tub.

About 4k words; Warnings: Very light smut like its super light, but I’m obligated to say it includes fingering a praise kink and a bathtub.

Laundry shouldn’t be difficult. Well in retrospect it wasn’t difficult at your old apartment. The laundry room there was stocked with 5 very old very worn washing and drying machines. They were faithful and predictable. They only had about 3 options and 2 dials. Simplicity at its best. You missed them every time you had a load to wash and dry. You had been living in Jackson’s apartment for months and you still couldn’t figure out his machines. For one thing they were sleek and black, very modern, apparently super efficient. They worked via a touch screen and the breath of options that appeared every time you fired them up made you nervous. Twice you had shrunk a favorite article of clothing. You had also ruined your running shoes, the washing machine seemed incredibly aggressive to you. But today was going to be different. This was your only task. You could do this. The touch screen lit up, you took a breath, the beeping started and an array of options appeared. Water temperatures, agitation speeds, your finger hovered over the first option- “BABY, THIS IS WHERE YOU WERE!?” Jackson’s voice boomed in the laundry room. You turned, frantic that all his noise would upset whatever fragile understanding you had. “Jackson!” You hissed, “shush!”

His hands snapped to cover his mouth. He looked around his brows knitted, “what’s going on?” He whispered. “I’ just,” you turned back to the machine but you didn’t feel the same confidence, “I’m trying to figure out your stupid space aged washing machine.” You confessed, “everytime I put something in here I ruin it.” “Maybe you’re thinking about it too hard.” He walked up behind you and looked down at the same screen. “Baby?” He began slowly, he touched the screen flicking left twice until he got to a place that said ‘presets’. “Why don’t you just use these instead of trying to pick through all those other settings? This is what I use.” “You’ve got to be kidding me.” You muttered softly. There were easy to understand presets displayed proudly. “You didn’t know about these?” He asked, “I could have sworn I showed you the last time you shrunk your sweater?” You rubbed your face in continued disbelief. All this time. “The dryer has presets too, did I show you those?” He kept talking because of course to him this wasn’t a big deal. You had made it one, once again, something tiny had become huge to you. “You want me to help you with your laundry? Since I’m home today I wanna spend it with you ok?” When you took your hands away from your face he was beaming like the sun at you. You wondered how he could look so worry free. His job was so stressful, he barely got time for himself or you yet he was always beaming. You wanted to be a bit more like him. Just enough so that inanimate objects stopped irritating you for no reason. “If you want to help sure, but this stuff is kinda boring. You sure you don’t want to nap? Or I could make you something to eat?” You offered. “We can do that after, this won’t take long.” He pointed out. He wasn’t wrong. You selected the ‘delicates’ option since you wanted to wash your undies and bras first. “Ok, delicates first then.” You looked in his direction expectantly. The two baskets of laundry were already separated. “Just pass me the stuff in the blue basket.” You instructed, “I’ll do them first.” He dutifully began to hand you clothes. Some things he stopped to look at. “When did you get this bra?” He asked holding up a flowery bra that you had bought a few weeks ago. “Like two weeks ago?” You guessed, maybe three. Your hand was outstretched waiting for it. “Oh,” was all he said before he handed it over, “I haven’t see you wear it.” He said softer. “Well, it’s a bra Jackson…” You tried. He handed you a few pairs of underwear which you put in. He was a touch less cheerful as you finished loading. He helped with the detergent and softner before he got the machine started. “I feel so dumb,” when you turned to him he frowned. “I really wish I had remembered about the presets. I’ve been having a battle with this machine since I got here.” You confessed. “Baby...I really don’t think it’s a big deal.” He leaned down and pecked you. “You can ask me questions you know? Before you make a mountain out of a molehill.” “But I’m so good at that.” You pointed out. He kissed you again. His hands trailing down your arms. When you pulled away he pouted. “Let me at least finish the chores, I have a few things more I wanna clean.” You complained. He accepted this and let you go, “I’m gonna have two weeks off...do you have a lot of work?” He asked. It took you a moment to think about what you had to do, some things could wait and really only one required you to finish immediately. “I just have to finish one job then I think I can take some time off.” You stretched and looked at him with curiosity. “What did you want to do?” He pushed some of your hair behind your ear, “can we go on vacation?” “Where did you want to go?” You spoke as you tied your hair up. “Someplace warm?” You asked. He nodded, “an island!” It seemed like a solid idea. You thought it over, Jackson in his usual fashion grew impatient. He tapped his feet and poked out his lip, “we can have a private beach house…” He edged closer. “That sounds...isn’t that a little extravagant?” You often wondered when you would be able to accept Jackson’s penchant for spending on you. There was something that always made you cringe. “I don’t want you to spend too much-” He frowned and you snapped your mouth closed, “you deserve…” He began. You sighed, “nice things.” He accepted you finishing his sentence quietly before he went back to trying to convince you. “It’ll be private...no cameras...just you and me.” He had basically backed you against the machine. He leaned forward and set his hands on it, caging you in. You couldn’t look away. “We live together but I always miss you,” he kissed you and it was mostly soft. “I’m gone a lot and I feel horrible about it,” he kissed you again nibbling on your bottom lip. “Do you miss me when I’m not here?” “Like crazy.” You whispered. His eyes were on yours, pupils wide. His breathing picked up as you snaked your arms around his neck. “So let me take you to the beach, let’s spend a week....please.” His kiss was less soft more insistent. He pushed until your back was pressed to the machine, the hum seemed to burn through your blood. You kissed him back, hands gripping the hair on the nap of his neck. The time apart always made the time together feel like a single point in the universe. There wasn’t a whole apartment, a whole city, there was just you and Jackson. Starved for each other, hungry to touch and feel. He was so good at making you melt, so good at making you desperate for him. You tasted him and whimpered. The beach was suddenly a fantastic idea, more time alone for more of this. He ground against you and his moan made your knees weak. “Ok,” you managed to say against his lips. He pulled away and beamed at you. The unmistakable look of getting his way. “So we’ll go the day after tomorrow...I actually may have set it up already.” “Jackson.”

You had never been swept away before. In past relationships you had lacked the time and your partners seemed to lack the motivation. It hadn’t bothered you truly because how can you miss something you didn’t have to begin with? You thought about it as you packed and he buzzed around the room with excitement. “Don’t forget bathing suites!” He warned, “and sunscreen!” “I have both.” You answered slowly, “and something nice for dinner...right?” When you looked up he was zipping his bag up. “Yes, and then...not much else…” He raised his eyebrows quickly suggestively and you giggled. He stopped to touch his hand to your leg, “I love you in anything.” “If it was up to you, I’d just walk around naked all the time.” You said slowly. He considered this then said, “only if you want.” Then he was moving again, his energy nervous all throughout the room. “Are you almost done?” He asked. “The car will be here soon.” You just needed to decide on your one nice outfit. It had been a while since you had really gone out. He had seen you in just about everything you owned...except.... At the back of your closet you had hung a tropical print skirt and top set. It was out of your comfort zone but the print would really work. “Hurry hurry baby.” He chided. You had just enough time to grab it from the closet and stuff it into your bag. He took your hand and led you. The smile on his face relaxed yet you could feel the excitement bubbling out of him. He kissed you in the elevator before the doors opened, then led you to the long black car idling at the apartment building’s entrance. He opened the door for you and waited till you were settled before he put the bags in the trunk and got in next to you. Then his hand was back in yours like it belonged there. “Do you think you’ll get recognized at the airport?” You tried your best not to sound nervous but the thought of screaming fans made your stomach heavy. “I don’t think so, we’ll be in then out.” He brought your linked hands up for a kiss. “Don’t be nervous, it’ll be fine.” You settled into the seat and tried your best not to worry. The media in a way wasn’t very interested in you and Jackson’s story anymore. When they did happen to catch photos of you two together it wasn’t big news but most of the comments were still pretty awful. It was better for your mental health to not read them but every so often you saw yourself online and couldn’t stop yourself from looking. The general take was that you were literally a weight dragging him down. It never seemed like a good idea to comment back, better to just read it all in silence, and really it wasn’t all bad. There was a spattering of people who liked you. Who said nice things and said they were cheering on the relationship. People who pointed out that Jackson was happier with you in his life. You weren’t sure if you would give yourself that much credit but you hoped that he felt how you did. He leaned over, “what are you thinking about so hard?” He planted a kiss on your cheek startling you out of your own head. He had a way of knowing when you were thinking yourself down a rabbit hole. He redirected you gently and patiently. His hand squeezed yours again. “Nothing, just the work I left...hopefully I did enough.” You said. He knew it wasn’t that, but he didn’t push.. He kissed you on the cheek again, “don’t worry about it, just try your best to relax.” He whispered. It took you a moment of second guessing, but there was no real use in fighting with Jackson. Especially since you actually did need a relaxing vacation. There would be no worries on the beach, that’s all you had to tell yourself over and over and over again.

There weren’t any cameras, no reporters, no mobs of fans. He had his mask pulled up and dark sunglasses on. You were wearing one of his caps and your own mask pulled up. The two of you looked like any couple on their way to a romantic trip. He only let go of you to pass through security. Once his hand was out of yours there were new worries. An airplane. The last time you had flown you were forced between a grumpy office worker and a woman who seemed to have bathed in perfume. You remember distinctly how the office worker had complained about her perfume and how she called him lonely and sad. It had been for the most part very unpleasant. Suddenly all you could think about were all your worse flights. You fumbled through security, including the awkward second search. Taking his hand on the other side calmed you down a little bit. “You’re making a mountain again.” He said into your ear. “I can’t remember ever having a good flight,” you squeezed his hand and almost missed a step. “Every flight that lands safely is a good flight baby.” He chimed happily and just like that you relaxed a bit. He was right of course. Bad seatmates didn’t make a bad flight. Small things didn’t have to be big. Once again you tried to calm yourself, to convince yourself that you were on vacation. You were being swept away and it would be great if all your extra thoughts could be swept away too.

“This is the house?” After a flight you slept through, and an ok trip through the airport that involved a car rental associate who was star struck, here the two of you were. The house was directly on the beach. From the outside it didn’t look like much which made you feel a bit better. If he had rented a beach mansion or something along those lines you would have worried the whole trip about how much all of it had cost and...and if you were really worth all the trouble. But this,...this was so quaint and so cozy. “This is it.” He pulled into the driveway and then put the car into park. You got out admiring the house’s slightly cracked white paint, the green ivy underneath the two small windows on either side of the weathered wooden door. The waves sounded incredibly close and you guessed the beach was literally right in your backyard. Jackson was behind you with your bags. “Here,” when you turned he was holding the key towards you all smiles, “open her up.” He instructed. The key got stuck for a moment in the lock. You panicked per usual but it gave when you pushed your shoulder against the heavy wood. “Be careful,” he clucked his tongue at you but you ignored him. You were stuck looking at the inside. Everything was so bright. You sucked in a breath because of all the light. There were huge skylights all throughout. The entryway was neat, a small blue weathered table held a bowl where Jackson dropped the car keys. He pressed his hand to the small of your back and your feet automatically started to shuffle step forward. The entryway opened into a small kitchen with white tile and teal cabinets. The appliances didn’t look new aged or terrifying like Jackson’s. The big white well loved looking stove was comforting. Through the kitchen There was an open airy dinning room and living room. The living room ended in two gigantic glass doors that opened onto a hedge enclosed patio. The bricks were weathered but still a good red. There was a round picnic table with a few shelves, a rack with two surfboards, and what looked like a hot tub. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your cheek, “let’s look at the bedroom.” It was through a doorway off the kitchen, past a half bathroom. The bedroom suite seemed to be all windows. There were three huge windows with breezy white curtains. The bed was gigantic four poster deal, piled high with pillows at the head. The comforter was white like everything else. “There’s one of those clawfoot tubs,” He led you a little further in, towards the doorway of the bathroom. The tub was huge. There was a shower head on the wall above it. Another two windows, more light. “This place is beautiful.” You finally got out. He squeezed your hand, “I know you like simple things and I thought this place would be nice. The beach is right down a back path and-” You tipped your chin up lips pursed asking for him to dip and kiss you. “Thank you so much for bringing me,” you spoke against his lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist. “You’re welcome.” His smile was triumphant. He only let you go to help unpack but beamed the entire time like a happy child. You knew this look, his eyes were centered on yours. He licked his lips before he kissed you. “I picked this house because it’s cozy and…” He trailed off to kiss you again. “And?” “And you never wanna have fun in my bathtub so I made sure that this house had one that was so big you couldn’t argue with me about soaking together.” He explained. “Jackson.” He beamed again his face back to innocence, “don’t you want to soak with me?” He asked. “You don’t just want to soak,” you pointed out. He shrugged, “humor me.” In truth he had begged to soak with you plenty of times but the tub in his apartment made you nervous. You had this vision of the two of you settling in and getting stuck or getting in and overflowing the tub in an embarrassing splash. Well maybe it wouldn’t be embarrassing to him but in your mind it was motifying. You bit your bottom lip and considered the big claw foot tub in the house again. “I guess there’s no harm in a nice soak.” You said softly. He could barely contain his excitement, he moved deliberately trailing his hands down your waist then squeezing. He searched your face before he broke out into a grin that made you laugh. “Jackson,” it was hard not to laugh at him. “Jackson right now? You don’t want to eat first?” He cocked his head, “I do, but let’s do that later, my back hurts from the flight.” You made a ‘sure’ face but didn’t argue. It was better to humor him, he gave your bottom another not so gentle squeeze before kissing the top of your head. “So a nice bath, then I’ll make you food,...” he trailed off and took your hand.

The fragrance from the bubble bath he found was making your head feel dreamy and relaxed. His back was against one side of the tub and yours was on the other. He insisted on massaging your feet and there really wasn’t any huge point to arguing. He rubbed away while you sighed slowly to yourself. “You have the cutest little feet.” He murmured. “They’re so gross.” Your response was automatic, years of having being told they were flawed in some way meant that you were use to parroting back the words when you were complimented. “They’re perfect on you.” He dug deep into the sole of your foot and you couldn’t help but groan. “Always say nice things about yourself.” He murmured. “Yeah I know.” You sunk lower into the water and he took the invitation to work his hands up your leg. It was hard for you to say nice things about yourself all the time. You were use to your self deprecating jokes. But he was quick to redirect them, he always told you to make it nice instead. His hands were steady on your body focusing your mind back into the moment. It was never gonna be just a soak, but you didn’t do anything to stop him. He felt the back of your knee and a shiver ran up your body. His eyes were focused on your skin, “you’ll let me do this at home now right?” He pulled himself a little closer so his hands could go further up, “a nice hot bath, foot massages.” “You’re very good at them,” your voice was barely above a whisper. His eyes seemed to darken. He leaned farther forward, upsetting the water and bubbles so he could kiss your forehead. Under the water his hand had made it all the way up which meant his fingers were in a prime position to rub you where you were most sensitive. He kept the pressure light, teasing you. A whine broke past your lips. He ducked his head and kissed you. “I want you to relax,” he said softly against your lips, he dipped his fingers inside of you. It was so hard not to squirm, he pulled them back and forth slowly before he stopped. You gripped the sides of the the tub and tried to urge him to move. His eyes were mischievous. “Jackson,” You tried to roll your hips to get him to do anything but tease you. He cocked his head, “say something nice about yourself.” The command confused you. Your brow furrowed and for a moment you were confused, “what?” He pulled his hand completely away and touched your face instead. “I read that it’s nice to hear compliments from others but reinforcing it with words you say to yourself is even better.” His voice was earnest his hand dipped into the water again and found your breast. “Something nice…” He played with your nipple and you whimpered. Your mind was reaching for something, any sort of compliment that would make sense. “I like my thighs.” He beamed, triumphant, then pinched your nipple lightly, “what else baby? You’re so beautiful there’s a million things to compliment.” You were so use to his praise that it was hard to give yourself the same attention. He switched to your other nipple and kissed your forehead again. “One more.” He encouraged. You swallowed, his hands sending pleasure and want all throughout your body. You willed your brain and your mouth to talk, to say something so he would give you what you needed. “I have nice skin...the cream you gave me makes it so soft.” You admitted. He liked that, he kissed you harder. He had both hands involved now, tickling the sides of your tummy. The giggle that escaped your mouth made his smile even wider. “The most perfect skin.” He spent the rest of the bath praising you. Cooing all his favorite compliments while he played with your body. It didn’t take long before your hands gripped the side of the tub and you called his name. Your body locked and then the pleasure ripped through your limbs in what felt like a blaze. Dimly you knew you had splashed water and maybe that would have embarrassed you, but there were more important things. Like the way you still shook while he kissed you everywhere he could reach. If you felt dreamy before your mind was downright foggy now. “You liked that baby?” He asked, finally pulling away to look at you. Your bones felt like jelly, thank god the tub wasn’t too deep. There was no doubt in your mind you would have melted further into the water. It took you what felt like hours to barely nod your head and indicate that yes you had indeed liked it. “It’s so cute when you say my name like that.” he went back to sitting across the tub from you, a smug smile on his face. You didn’t know what face you were making but hopefully it was satisfied. “Let’s just spend the rest of the time here.” You finally got out. He didn’t argue with you, just rested his head on the rim of the tub, “as long as you’re happy that’s all I care about.” You sat up a little, “I’m the happiest I’ve been in forever.” “Perfect.” He spoke softly and maybe it was more to himself than you but he was right. The feeling was perfect.

#jackson wang #team wang #got7 jackson wang #jackson wang smut #jackson wang fanfic #jackson takes you on vacay #and it was magical times #tub time #who doesnt love a good soak #kpop fanfic #something to do with jackson universe #say nice things to yourself

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iclaimedtobethebetterbard · 2 years

Text

one chance to change your fate - chapter 11

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: All the sides, character!Thomas, Nico Flores, Dragon Witch (villain), background OCs Rating: Teen & up (see Warnings) Relationships: Loceit, eventual Dukexiety, Royality, background Karrot Kings Warnings: One "haha kinky" joke from Remus; transphobia (the "oh i accept you, but…" kind); mention of eating bugs by mistake; language. Word count: 4870 Notes: a big big thank you to my awesome beta @yougoodfahm!

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

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reminder that janus’s pronouns are ONLY they/them in this fic (& virgil’s are they/xe)! do not misgender them please!

Chapter 11

Roman, who had been curled up on the sofa in the sitting room wallowing for some time, looked up at a slight creak of the door. He all but threw down the book he’d been pretending to read when he saw Janus crossing the room towards him.

They held up a single finger as he inhaled to speak—he wasn’t even sure what he was about to say: I’m sorry; are you alright; is Patton alright; I’m sorry; why did you come back; I’m sorry—and he snapped his mouth shut again.

Janus cast a couple of items into Roman’s lap and stood before him, arms crossed and lips pursed.

Roman picked them up. A red rose and an envelope, with his name on it, in Patton’s handwriting.

He glanced up at Janus, hesitant, questioning.

“Open it,” they said, tone cool.

He scrambled to oblige.

Dear Roman,

Are you doing alright? Jan says you were crying and it made me worried for you. I hope you’re feeling better now. I’m feeling scared worried upset kind of sad and nervous. But I hope think know things will maybe be alright. Jan says they have an idea to fix things, but they won’t tell me what yet. But I trust them, so I’m hoping things will get better soon, even though they aren’t very nice right now. I really do hope you’re doing better when you get this.

Why didn’t you

I wish you had

Was I not

Did you

Anyway, I’m writing this letter to ask if you would please meet me tonight in the rose garden where we usually see each other? I’ll be there at half past midnight. I really hope I can see you. I think we should talk about things.

Love,

I miss you,

See you tonight (I hope),

Patton

P.S. I’m sorry Jan is being grumpy with you. I’m trying to get them to calm down about it all.

P.P.S. I hope you like the flower. It made me think of you.

Roman looked up, eyes brimming with tears, pressing a hand over his mouth to hold back a sob of equal parts fondness and sorrow and longing. Patton had written to him, written in his own words a message just for him, he’d—

“If he’s happy tomorrow morning,” Janus announced, “all is forgiven. If he’s trying to pretend he wasn’t up all night crying, I—” Their voice wavered just barely, but they tensed their shoulders and spoke the rest without hesitation. “I will quit my job and never speak to you again.”

Roman nodded fast and hard. “Understood.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Thank you,” he added, voice cracking. He was surprised they’d given him a second chance at all, and he had absolutely no intention of wasting it.

Janus twitched one shoulder in a shrug, not quite meeting his eyes. “He said I should apologize,” they added stiffly. “For making you cry.”

Roman was quiet for a beat, not sure how to respond and not wanting to make the awkward tension between them worse. This was possibly the closest he’d ever heard Janus come to an apology, and he suspected it was meant as one—but at the same time, responding with anything directly acknowledging this would likely not go over well. “Lots of things make me cry, Janus,” he said after a moment, forcing a half laugh. “I guess it was only fair you got a turn.”

But Janus only seemed more unhappy at this reply, their mouth tightening in a frown. They crossed their arms harder and stared at the edge of the rug they stood on. “I was cruel.”

Roman winced. “I suppose.” He hesitated. “I… was foolish.” And that was to say the least of it.

Janus grimaced. “I suppose,” they echoed softly after a long pause. They shifted their weight back and forth, chewing their lip and fidgeting with their hands, looking worried and rather lost.

Roman hesitated again, then half-raised his arms in invitation, hoping he was interpreting their fretting correctly.

Relief melted into existence on Janus’s face faster than the sun emerging from a cloud, and they collapsed to sit on the sofa beside him and hug him, thin arms squeezing tight around his ribcage, hands fisting in the jacket on his back, and pointy chin digging into his shoulder.

Roman held them tightly, not bothering to complain about how sharp their chin was because just at this second it was the best feeling in the world. It was alright; it was alright, or at least, now he knew it could be alright again between the two of them, and it would be, and the relief of that knowledge was so intense it practically melted him. “You’re making me cry again,” he said, voice breaking on a noise that was half a sob and half a laugh.

“Shut up,” Janus said thickly into his shoulder. There was a poorly disguised sniffle. “Anyway, I’m still mad at you.” They hugged him a little tighter.

Roman nodded, pressing his cheek against his friend’s hair and rubbing their back. “Understood.”

Roman would happily have sat there and hugged Janus for as long as they would let him, but the noise of a bolt sliding open broke the quiet. Roman startled, looking over at the door to Remus’s suite, which had been taunting him with its blank silence for what felt like hours now.

The door cracked open and Remus poked his head out, wearing a gleeful expression that suggested that whatever was about to come out of his mouth would make Roman regret his entire life. Sure enough: “Very rude of you to call me a brat earlier when you knew I couldn’t say ‘kinky,’” he announced.

Roman groaned and stuck his fingers in his ears. “Oh my stars, shut up shut up I hate you I hate you I hate you I ha—”

Remus snickered and withdrew his head back into his room.

“No wait Remus I’m sorry no no come back wait please—” Roman scrambled over the back of the couch and sprinted across the sitting room, just a second too late, as Remus’s door thudded shut and the bolt slid into place.

“Remus!” he cried, kicking the door petulantly.

He was met with only silence for a long minute. At last from behind the door, Remus’s voice announced, “I’m not done being alone yet. I just wanted to make that joke, now that I can talk again.”

“Are you mad at me?” Roman blurted, desperate.

There was another silence, so long that he thought Remus wasn’t going to answer at all. Then, so quiet that Roman almost thought he’d imagined it—“Not exactly,” Remus said. “Go away.”

“Remus—” Roman pleaded.

“One time when we were five I put a worm in your lunchmeat and you ate it,” Remus interrupted, voice suddenly loud and jarring—which, since it was so horrible and so unrelated, meant that he was really and truly done with conversation and Roman needed to stop pushing now.

“I hate you,” Roman said with no bite. He had long since for his own peace of mind decided not to believe anything of this caliber that Remus said to him.

“Bitch,” Remus retorted, sounding fond. “Gonna ignore you now.”

“Jerk,” Roman retorted back in acknowledgement, and turned away to give Remus his space, drawing in a deep breath. He was not sure if he felt less worried or much more to learn that Remus was “not exactly” mad at him. What did that mean?

Janus was standing near the door out of the twins’ rooms, and, by their single raised eyebrow, had watched the whole exchange. “I’m… not even going to ask what any of that was.”

Roman snorted. “That’s fair.”

Janus nodded and hesitated a moment more, looking like they wanted to say something. But at last, all they said was, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Roman,” and slipped out the door so quietly it was almost as if they had never been there.

***

Virgil pushed open the door to the fitting room, then stopped in their tracks in dismay. “Mother.”

“Hello, dear!” their mother said brightly, waving them over to herself and her favorite, most kiss-up, seamstress—Madam Solak, who visited her clients by appointment and definitely overcharged Virgil’s mother (not that Virgil blamed her), and was now nodding at Virgil in impersonal, disinterested greeting. The two women were doing… stars only knew what, with far too many bolts of fabric and some mannequins.

“We’ve been going over patterns for your new clothes while we waited for you!” Virgil’s mother went on, sounding entirely too pleased.

Virgil could practically already feel the headache coming on. “Mother, you know I don’t wear skirts.” Xe crossed xyr arms, half of a mind to leave entirely and not let her fit them for a new wardrobe at all.

But she would find a way to get them to cooperate. She always did. And xe would rather not fight about it, not with all the overly polite posturing that came with fighting with Mother, which would make every time they saw her for the next two weeks an exhausting mind game. So they stayed in the doorway and waited to see what she’d say.

“Virgil, darling, really, now. I’m surprised at you. Aren’t you supposed to be the forward-thinking one of the family?” Mother put her hands on her hips. “Skirts are quite—quite gender-neutral these days, you know.” She almost hid the grimace she said it with. “Particularly in Flores,” she added brightly. “I’m sure the princes will be charmed!” She shot a glance at Madam Solak.

“Oh, yes, milady. I would expect nothing less.” The seamstress smiled politely, all gleaming teeth as she shook out a length of peach taffeta. Like she expected to make something Virgil would wear out of it. Disgusting.

Virgil gritted xyr teeth. “I know anyone can wear skirts.” But skirts were not gender neutral to their parents, no matter how politely they pretended not to stick to customs a century out of date, and as a result Virgil hadn’t been able to bring themself to wear one in years without feeling sickened inside, knowing what it meant to their parents. It infuriated xem, honestly—they’d loved skirts so much as a kid, and now their parents’ stupid attitude had ruined it for xem. “I still don’t want any.”

Mother only raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. “Well, why don’t you come let Madam Solak take your measurements while we discuss it?” she said, crooking one finger in command.

“I’m sure we can find something you’ll be happy with,” Madam Solak agreed, ostensibly speaking to Virgil. Not that Virgil’s opinion actually meant anything here; their mother was the one who was to be pleased.

Virgil huffed and crossed their arms and moved to where their mother had beckoned them to, letting xyr feet fall loudly on the floor to express xyr displeasure but not voicing any of it aloud.

Virgil was in a particularly bad mood today about this whole competition situation—this morning they’d been talking with an acquaintance, an events manager they’d worked with on a few concerts, who’d asked them to meet up at a local cafe. Fae had wanted to personally offer Virgil an invitation to perform in a series of local concerts over the summer. And Virgil, with so much regret xe would certainly have cried if xe’d been a crying person, had had to turn down the invitation. Because they would be in a different kingdom then. Wasting their time doing their best to avoid the competition for some idiot prince’s hand. Because xyr parents were basically determined to ruin xyr life, and destroy the name xe’d started to make for xemself in the local area, and mold xem into the perfect child to brag about by taking away everything interesting in their life. (Not that they knew they were doing that. But still.) It was infuriating and humiliating and Virgil hated it with everything in them. They’d stayed seated in the cafe long after their acquaintance had left, staring into their coffee as it went cold and clenching the cup so tightly they were a little surprised it hadn’t broken.

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it now?” their mother said sweetly when Virgil stood before her and the seamstress.

“No,” Virgil lied, avoiding her gaze and instead staring at the patches of light on the floor where sunlight was shining through the thin window curtains. They raised their arms to let Madam Solak loop her tape measure around xyr waist. She shot them an apologetic smile that had about as much meaning as the thank-you notes Virgil had written after the last soiree their mother had insisted on them hosting.

“Now, I’m thinking some nice summer dresses—” their mother went on as Madam Solak continued expertly taking Virgil’s measurements.

Virgil gritted their teeth, doing their best to ignore their mother’s chatter and the way Madam Solak nodded along agreeably to all of it. Xe resolved to bring plenty of cash with xem and completely replace whatever wardrobe xyr mother packed xem for this stupid trip.

“—ruffles are so fashionable right now, and—”

Virgil groaned quietly and added “a box of matches” after “cash” on their mental packing list.

This trip was going to be the worst thing that ever happened to them.

***

Roman bid Remus and his parents goodnight early, retreating into his suite as if for the night. But he didn’t go to bed; rather, he remained fully dressed, pacing around his study and occasionally trying to read or journal or sketch or do anything he could think of to distract himself and while away the time.

He swore the clock was moving slower than usual just to spite him.

Just before eleven, it occurred to Roman that the outfit he was wearing was not romantic enough for a clandestine midnight meeting. Frantically sorting through his closet took up a good fifteen minutes, and trying on outfits another thirty. He finally decided on a white silk shirt with an open collar, a fitted red vest, white trousers that hugged his legs, and a delicate gold necklace about his throat. He didn’t attempt to do anything fancy with his hair, instead simply brushing it and sliding a pair of gold bar clips into it, one on either side, to hold the ends out of his face. Finally, he applied a thin stroke of eyeliner to his upper lids and blended out some crimson eyeshadow over it, even though it was nighttime and would no doubt be dark out in the rose garden, with only the moonlight and a few lanterns here and there to see by, so most of the effect of makeup would be lost, but he hardly wanted to present a bare face to Patton—Patton was worth effort. He hesitated over his lipsticks for a moment, then applied a bright red one to match the eyeshadow and blotted it until he was sure it was fully dry and wouldn’t smear or stain. Just in case—in case—well. In case. An in case that had his heartbeat quickening at the very notion, even as he shied away from thinking about it too hard.

He examined himself in the mirror, half twirling in either direction and nervously adjusting his necklace. At last he couldn’t think of anything else to do, and his stomach was squirming with nervous anticipation so hard it felt like a living thing inside him, and the clock said it was eleven-forty-five anyway and that was basically half past midnight, so he steeled himself and unlocked the door to the secret passage out of his rooms. He knew it was supposed to be only for emergencies, but—well—it was probably fine, right? He didn’t want to get caught and explain why he was going outside so late, and he definitely didn’t want the extra guards that nighttime required to accompany him. Besides, Remus had used his emergency escape route for something far less important earlier today, so really Roman felt it was practically entirely justified.

He made his way down to the exit, near the library, and from there it was only a couple of short hallways to another passage that led him out of the palace, and after that it was only a matter of being quiet as he went. Most of the outdoors guards at nighttime were stationed around the perimeter of the palace grounds, not inside the gardens, so it was not difficult to avoid them.

Roman made his way to the center of the rose garden. Gazing about himself, he realized he didn’t know what time it was anymore. It had probably taken him longer to walk here than it would have by a more direct route, but he wasn’t in the habit of using the secret passageways so he couldn’t be sure precisely how much time had elapsed. Patton could be here at any moment. Or Roman could be somehow too late, and perhaps Patton had already come and gone. Or he might not get here for a while still—Roman wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to get onto the palace grounds this late. Or he might have changed his mind and decided Roman wasn’t worth his time. Or—

“Roman?”

Roman whirled. There was Patton, standing at the edge of the little clearing Roman was waiting in, wearing a pale blue shirt with a light gray cardigan and matching gray slacks. His hair was loose about his face and he was hesitating, seeming to have paused almost mid-step.

He was the most perfect, beautiful thing Roman had ever seen.

“Patton!” Roman rushed across the space between them and caught Patton’s hands in his, entirely fixated on Patton’s beautiful dark eyes. “Patton, I—I’m so sorry—I should have told you, I shouldn’t have been such a coward, this is all my fault and I’m sorry and—”

“Hey,” Patton interrupted, sounding flustered, “hey, let’s—let’s slow down about that for a minute, you don’t need to be so mean to yourself about it.” He drew in a breath and gently squeezed Roman’s hands.

Which brought Roman’s attention to the fact that he was holding Patton’s hands in his. He hadn’t even thought about it when he’d taken them—it had been an impulsive gesture—but he discovered that very suddenly it was almost all he could think about. “Oh,” he said, cheeks flushing warm. “Oh, I—” He loosened his grip.

“No,” Patton said quickly, squeezing a little harder. “No, it—it’s good.” He glanced down at their joined hands, then back up at Roman, a small smile making its way onto his face. “It’s nice.”

Roman felt a beam spread unbidden across his face as his heart did a delightful little flip in his chest. “It is, isn’t it?” he asked, shyly squeezing Patton’s hands in return, unable to keep himself from staring at Patton’s full lips as he grinned back.

There was a beat of hesitant silence, both of them waiting to see what the other would do. Roman drew in a breath.

“Can I—”

“Would you—”

They both broke off, giggling softly.

“What were you saying?” Patton asked.

“No, no, you first,” Roman insisted.

Patton nodded. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Roman’s heart was struck by an unbidden jolt of nerves. But he did want to talk about it, wanted to hear everything Patton had to say, and apologize for all the things he’d done wrong, and he certainly owed it to Patton, anyway, regardless of what he himself wanted. He nodded and let Patton draw him over to the marble bench they’d so often sat side-by-side on, their hands still clasped.

“Alrighty,” Patton said, head bent as he stared down at Roman’s hands in his and rubbed his thumb along the side of Roman’s hand. “So.” He sounded hesitant and a little worried.

“I’m sorry,” Roman blurted. He kept going, letting all the words tumble out before he could overthink it. “I’m so sorry, Patton, this is all my fault, I—I should have told you. I really should have. I was—I was scared, and I told myself it was because I was afraid I would be pressuring you to make a choice you didn’t actually want to just because you felt sorry for me, but—Janus says I’m just afraid of letting myself be happy, and I—I think they’re right, and I let myself hurt you because I was scared, and it was so selfish of me, and I should never have done that. I’m—” His voice cracked and he sucked in a breath, doing his best to steady himself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I should have told you. I was wrong.”

Patton was quiet for a moment, still staring down at Roman’s hands. Roman’s heart thumped loud in his chest, in dreadful suspense as he waited, biting the inside of his cheek to force himself to stay quiet and not fill up the silence with nervous cheery words.

“It—did hurt my feelings,” Patton said at last, very quietly, “that you kept me from knowing—all the things. About the contest. I’m—I’m more upset about it than I let on to Jan, they were overreacting enough as it was.” He drew in a long breath and let it out. “And it—it doesn’t make it all the way better to know why you did it.”

Roman pressed his lips together and tried not to cry.

“But—” Patton went on, and Roman dared to hope with a bubble of anticipation in his chest so large that it hurt, “it does help. And I—I appreciate you wanting to protect me and respect me, and I appreciate you being honest about it all with me now. And I understand that none of your options were perfect.” He looked up and met Roman’s eyes at long last, his own eyes big and dark and beautiful behind his glasses, his face solemn and intent and softly sad and Roman wanted to kiss it better so badly—but he forced himself to refocus and keep listening.

“It’s not better,” Patton said carefully, “but I accept your apology, Roman. I forgive you. And I’d like to try and fix it together.”

“Of course,” Roman agreed at once, giddy relief rushing through him, “anything you want, I just—” He hesitated. “Shouldn’t it be my responsibility to fix?”

“Maybe,” Patton said, examining him up and down. A tiny smile quirked onto his face. “But I like you. So I want to help.”

He was perfect, he was perfect, and so good and so lovely and so handsome and so sweet and so funny and Roman wanted to kiss all the breath out of his lungs and then come back for more, but he settled instead for a choked, delighted little, “Alright,” because he was pretty sure there was nothing in the world he wouldn’t give Patton if he asked for it.

Patton broke into a full smile. “Good. I’m glad. That’s settled, then.” He began rubbing his thumb along Roman’s hand again. “It is a little bit of a relief,” he added after a moment, quieter again.

“What is?” Roman asked, trying not to be entirely distracted by how nice the sensation of Patton’s calloused thumb against his skin was.

“Knowing all the parts of why you didn’t tell me.”

“Why?” Roman asked, not understanding what he was getting at.

Patton bit his lip and looked away. “You have very soft hands,” he said after a moment, a clear and sharp change of subject.

“You have very gentle ones,” Roman returned easily. “Patton, why is it a relief?” he pressed, something anxious tightening around his heart.

Patton shifted uncomfortably. “Well—I was—at first—I mean, before Jan explained it all—I was afraid it was—was an easy way to get rid of me. That you didn’t want me after all.” He stared at one of the rose bushes, not meeting Roman’s eyes, his shoulders tense and nervous.

It was a question, Roman realized, and a confession as well. Speaking aloud what neither of them had yet quite actually said. Even so, the answer was so obvious, so all-encompassing and so permeated throughout every part of Roman’s worldview, that it felt bizarre to see Patton so shy about it.

“Of course I want you, Patton,” he responded, eager and easy as breathing. He rose up on his knees on the bench, shifting closer to Patton.

Patton met his eyes again, looking up at him now from the change in angle. “Oh?”

Roman nodded fervently, clutching both Patton’s hands tighter and lifting them to hold against his heart. “Of course I do,” he repeated, choking up slightly with emotion. “With everything in me. I—Patton, I’ve been in love with you since the first time you gave me flowers.” He still remembered it with perfect clarity, even with how it had become almost a routine every time they saw each other since then; it had been a month or two after they’d met, and the sunshine had been gleaming off Patton’s hair, and he had been giggling at a pun Roman made in response to his own, and he’d clipped a rose right off the bush and tucked it into Roman’s hair and said the flower was almost as pretty as Roman was, and Roman’s heart had tumbled head-over-heels right into Patton’s hands and never left.

“Oh,” Patton breathed again, eyes wide and lips parting, gaze fixed on Roman’s face and hands clinging tightly to Roman’s. “Oh, you—you have? That’s—” He swallowed. “Oh,” he repeated, awed and emotional.

Roman nodded hard. “Of course I have, darling,” he assured him. “You’re you.”

Patton drew in a shaky breath, a smile just hovering at the corners of his mouth. “I could say the same about you.”

Roman was struck by an impulse, and he let go of Patton’s hands for just a moment, half regretting it as he did just for the loss of his touch. He leaned away, reaching towards the nearest bush.

“What are you—?” Patton began.

“For you,” Roman said in explanation, plucking a white rose off the bush. He settled back on his knees before Patton, leaned in, and carefully tucked it into his dark hair. “It makes me think of you,” he added, half teasing in using the same phrasing Patton had, but also oh so serious. His hand lingered on Patton’s hair, finding a loose strand and smoothing it into place.

“You are a sweetheart,” Patton said, with a look in his eyes so adoring it made Roman’s heart ache with delight. He hesitated. “Roman?”

“Hm?” Roman replied in an unabashedly besotted tone, still playing with Patton’s hair.

“What were you going to say? Earlier. When we both spoke at once.”

“Oh.” Roman’s breath caught at the idea of how forward he had nearly been. “Well, I—I was—” He swallowed. “I was going to ask if I could kiss you,” he admitted, cheeks warm.

Patton was quiet for a beat, and Roman’s heart practically thumped out of his chest. Then he reached up and caught Roman’s hands in his once more, lifting them down from his hair, and looked up to meet Roman’s eyes.

“Well, what took you so long?” he asked. “Go ahead.”

Roman gasped, which made Patton’s eyes crinkle with a fond little smile, and Roman was not sure how this much love could fit in one person. Heart in his mouth—he had wanted this for so long, how was this real, how had he gotten so lucky?—he leaned down, slow and careful, not wanting to miss a second of it. Patton tilted his face up to meet him, their hands still clasped between them.

Roman took a breath and closed the remainder of the gap and pressed his lips to Patton’s.

It was only a quick little peck at first, neither of them daring to do more, but Roman barely pulled away at all, pressing his forehead and nose to Patton’s and gazing into his eyes.

Patton giggled, and it broke the tense anticipation like a charm.

And then both of them were laughing, shy and delighted, their faces so close together still, and after that it was the easiest thing in the world to lean in once more and kiss Patton, much longer and more surely this time, relishing in the way Patton sighed against his lips, and the way his mouth was so soft and warm and sweet, and the subtle scent of soap and plants that he always carried. Roman kissed him again, and again and again, barely stopping for breaths, and at some point Patton’s arms made their way around Roman’s neck and Roman’s hands cradled Patton’s face and then tangled in his hair, and they both slid closer to each other on the bench till they were pressed together, kissing and kissing and making up for all the months they had waited.

Roman was not sure if he had ever been so happy as he was now, but he was kissing the boy he loved and holding him in his arms and that was the most perfect thing in the world, so really nothing else mattered.

Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @the-sympathetic-villain @just-a-little-anxious @theimprobabledreamersworld @crazydemigod666 @nightweirdo @emoprincey (also hi @thecrowslullaby ur not actually on the taglist unless u want to be, but ik you’ve been waiting for the next update, so. just letting u know this is here now lol)

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mydogisveryadorbs · 4 years

Text

falling | jj maybank x reader

summary: jj never meant to fall in love with you, it just happened

warnings: cursing, drug use (weed), little angsty, SOFT JJ, fluff, fluff, fluff

a/n: thank you for this amazing request sweet anon! i hope you enjoy it!

masterlist :)

(gif credit to the owner)

6.5k+ words

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Rain is something that every Kildare resident has become accustomed to. The rainy summer months were simply a nuisance to everyone who lived in the OBX.

You couldn't quite understand the contempt the people of this town had for the bad weather. To you, the rain was refreshingly familiar. It reminds you of splashing in the puddles with your older brother and being playfully scolded by your mother for tracking mud into the house. The rain is your childhood.

When you spot the dark clouds on your way out of the house that morning, your mood becomes instantly brighter. You play upbeat music as you walk to visit your dad at work.

Your father is the manager of Kildare’s finest Resort and Spa so you practically grew up there. Making friends has never come easily for you and so some of your finest childhood memories were made running through the grass fields in the courtyard and being the honorary taste tester for the kitchen staff.

The rain gives you an extra skip in your step and you rush through helping your dad with some of his paperwork so you can get back outside quicker.

Not every Kildare native has the same mindset that you do. To JJ Maybank, the rain is a reminder of the days he was forced to stay inside with his father. The cracking thunder reminds him of being hidden under his bedsheets in fear, with no one to comfort him.

The blonde’s fingers quickly fumble to punch in the well-known number of his best friend. The phone rings, and rings, and rings, until the crackly sound of John B’s voicemail box fills his ears. He tries Kiara and even Pope, before ultimately giving up.

The one day his bike is in the shop, it rains and none of his friends answer their phones.

Despite every instinct he has, JJ knows he has no choice but to walk home in the rain. His clothes are already sopping wet against his skin even after a brief minute of standing under the downpour.

He shivers, arms wrapping around his body as he prepares himself to make the journey home.

Before JJ can even take one step forward, a bright yellow blob moves towards him, catching his attention. The blob slowly morphs into a figure as it approaches.

“Hello,” a sweet feminine voice calls out to him. JJ’s brows instantly furrow at the sight of the teen girl in the bright yellow raincoat, holding an equally bright, yellow umbrella.

“Um, hi?” he replies over the sound of the rain, his voice coming out in more of a questioning tone.

You quickly move your hand so that your small umbrella is covering both of your heads.

“Thanks,” JJ mutters, still confused. You offer him a sweet smile. He takes the moment to scan your face. You're easily one of the most gorgeous girls he's ever seen and he wonders how he's gone this long without noticing you.

“You looked like you needed it more than me,” you explain with a shrug, eyes falling away from JJ’s piercing blue ones. “Where are you headed? I didn't drive here but I'm sure my dad wouldn't mind if I borrowed his car to take you home.”

His eyes widened in realization. “Oh, um, your Mr. (Y/L/N)’s daughter right?” You reply with a simple nod. “It's fine, I'll just walk.”

Your lips pull down into a sudden frown and JJ has an intense urge to make you smile again. “It would be much faster for me to drive you,” you urge, “Plus, if you walk home without an umbrella, you'll definitely catch a cold.”

JJ can't help but smile softly at your kindness which you eagerly return with one of your own. “How ‘bout you just let me borrow your umbrella then?” he asks jokingly.

“Well that would work, but this is my favorite umbrella.” This is a lie. You have two other umbrellas just like it at home.

“Well I guess you'll just have to give me a ride home then,” JJ gives in.

Your smile grows as you link your arm with the blondes and pull him to your dad's fancy sports car. JJ gives you directions back to the Chateau and you oblige.

The two of you make conversation for almost the entire drive, only breaking when you stop to turn up a song you like. JJ is pleasantly surprised when you never mention the length of the drive or the rundown houses you pass.

A few minutes later, You pull up to the chateau, putting the car in park. The car goes quiet besides the sound of rain hitting the rooftop.

JJ looks over at you with a soft smile. “Thank you, really, for the ride,” he tells you genuinely as he gathers his things.

“Any time, Maybank.”

Over the next two weeks, you start to spend a little more time at the hotel, bumping into JJ anytime the opportunity arises. The blonde is used to eating his lunch on his own in the back room, but when you ask if he'll join you for lunch on the golf course, he can't possibly say no.

“So then my friend John B had to practically drag me out of the water,” JJ says, continuing his story about getting stung by a jellyfish. “I couldn't walk for three straight days.” His words are muffled by the bite of the sandwich he has in his mouth causing you to giggle. JJ smiles at the sound, wanting nothing more than to make you laugh like that again.

“You know I've always wanted to learn how to surf,” you tell him, causing his eyes to widen. “But after your stories, I might not,” you add with a laugh.

“You've never been surfing,” the blonde asks in disbelief to which you respond with a head shake. “How long have you lived here?”

You smile. “All my life.”

“You've lived here all your life and you've never been surfing?”

“I've been paddleboarding,” you offer with a sheepish smile.

JJ chuckles slightly at your lame joke, but mostly at how adorable you are. “Come surfing with me tomorrow,” he says, softly grabbing your hand in his causing you to blush hard.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I have the day off and my friends and I were planning to go anyway.”

Your eyes widen and you gulp slightly. “Your friends are going to be there,” you ask warily.

JJ nods in confusion. “Yeah my friends will be there, unless,” a look of realization sweeps over his face, “Oh. You don't want to go with my friends.” His hand drops yours onto the blanket you brought.

“No,” you tell him earnestly, grabbing his hand back. “It's not that I don't want to go with them, it's that I don't think they will want me there.” JJ looks at you in confusion. “You and your friends are the most looked up to friend group on this island. It's an unspoken thing that everyone wants to be you guys. I just don't think they'll want me butting into your group.”

JJ frowns. Is that really what you think of yourself? The blonde has only known you for a few weeks, but at that time he's decided that you are the kindest, most selfless person on this island. Why you are unable to see that, is beyond him.

It's the first moment in JJ’s life that he has the sudden urge to kiss you. But he can't, he knows that. He knows it won't be the last time he gets this feeling (not with your perfect pouty lips and kind heart around him all the time), but he pushes the thought to the back of his mind for now.

“(Y/N),” he says, drawing your attention back up to his eyes. “Trust me, they'll love you.” What's not to love? But he doesn't say that last part out loud.

JJ doesn't know it, but this moment is also the first time you have the urge to kiss him. The urge to wrap your hands around his neck and pull his lips to meet yours. Your heart rate increases rapidly and you push the thought aside as well.

With promises of meeting the next day, you bid JJ goodbye, the butterflies in your stomach not diminishing until the blonde is out of your sight.

The next afternoon you spend thirty minutes trying on all of your bikinis. You want more than anything to have a good impression on JJ’s friends.

You are slipping a pale green tank top over your bikini as the doorbell echos through your house. “I'll get it,” you tell out, hoping no one gets to the door first.

Grabbing the rest of your things and shoving them into your tote bag, you quickly run downstairs. When you make it to the door you spot your older brother Sam reaching to open it.

“Sam wait,” you yell, rushing to open the door first. You pull the handle revealing JJ. He's dressed in a pair of grey cargo shorts, a worn black tank top, and his infamous red snapback. “Hey,” you say with a smile.

“Hey.”

“(Y/N), where are you going,” Sam asks from behind you. You turn around to see your brother giving you a look that resembles that of a worried parent.

“I'm going surfing with JJ and his friends,” you tell him quickly. JJ waves at your brother, slightly intimidated by the tall boy.

Sam looks over your shoulder at JJ before snapping his eyes back to you. “Did you tell mom and dad about this?”

You roll your eyes lightly. “I'm not ten, Sam,” you say sarcastically. “I don't have to get permission every time I leave the house.”

Sam’s eyes move back to JJ, only to see that the blue-eyed boy is already looking at you. “Keep her safe, will you?” he asks with a sigh.

JJ looks at your brother. “Of course,” he promises.

You smile, kissing your brother on the cheek. “Love you, Sam.”

He responds with the same and the two of you are quickly moving off your front porch and towards the street.

JJ watches your expression as you approach the pogue van, expecting some sort of disgust of their old vehicle.

He opens the passenger door for you, making you blush hard, before moving to the driver's seat. “Sorry it's not the nicest car,” he says as the van sputters to life, slightly cringing at the sound of the old engine.

“What are you talking about,” you say with an honest smile, “This is literally the coolest car ever.” You stick your hand out the window letting the wind hit it as giggles escape from your mouth.

JJ’s lips stretch into a wide smile at the sight.

The two of you laugh and sing along to whatever song comes on the radio. It's just like the night you drove him home from the hotel except now, the sun is shining bright above you.

When JJ pulls the van up to the front of the run down Chateau, you feel your palms begin to sweat. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” you ask the boy next to you, not taking your eyes off the front porch.

JJ smiles. “They're gonna love you,” he says confidently, “Now come on before I die of heatstroke.” He hops out of the car, running around to your side and helping you out.

You chew your lips nervously as the two of you walk up the steps and across the front porch.

“We're here,” JJ announces as he opens the door for you.

The first thing you notice when you enter the little house is the pungent smell of weed. Despite not smoking yourself, you don't mind the scent. The second thing you notice is the three teenagers sitting on a worn couch.

A girl with curly brown hair throws her hands up into the air. “JJ’s brought a girl home,” she exclaims with a chuckle.

The blonde beside you rolls his eyes. “Shut up Kie.”

The girl who you assume is Kiara, stands up, and runs over to you. Much to your surprise, she pulls you into a tight hug. You stand there in confusion for a second before hugging her back. “I'm Kiara, but you can call me Kie,” she says, pulling away. “Those two dumbasses are John B and Pope,” Kie tells you, pointing to the two boys still sitting on the couch. They lift their chins in a greeting.

“So are you guys ready,” JJ asks, breaking the tension.

The boys stand up and the five of you walk outside before piling into the van. John B and Kiara sit in the front and JJ, Pope, and you in the back.

“JB, where's Sarah,” Pope asks.

“Couldn't make it,” John B replies, “Said she had family stuff.”

“John B, you're dating Sarah Cameron, right?” you ask sweetly.

John B nods. “Yeah, you know her?”

“Not really, we had English together last year,” you say, watching as the brunette boy’s expression remains stoic. “I don't know if she'll like me though. I kind of punched her brother in third grade for making fun of my friend's dress.”

The whole group laughs loudly and you blush hard, not meaning for that to slip out. JJ uses the moment to wrap his arms discreetly across your shoulders.

“I think she'll definitely like you then,” John B says. “That's badass.”

A few minutes later, the van pulls up to a secluded spot on the beach.

“Wow, it's beautiful here,” you say in awe.

JJ nods as he and Kie take the surfboards down from the roof of the van. “This is our secret pogue spot.”

“Oh,” you say looking down, feeling out of place.

Pope hands you one of the boards. “You're basically an honorary pogue if we bring you here,” he says with a kind smile. “Think of this as your initiation.”

You smile back, relieved that JJ’s friends aren't annoyed by your presence. JJ tries to hide a smile of his own, loving that you are getting along with his friends considering they're the only family he has.

The five of you walk down to the beach, finding a good spot to lay down your stuff.

JJ can't take his eyes off of you as you slip your tank top over your head. His little heart can't handle how gorgeous you are. You're wearing a small blue and white floral bikini, leaving little to the imagination.

“You okay, Maybank?” you ask, snapping him out of his trance. He nods dumbly, making you chuckle. “C’mon,” you say, grabbing your board in one hand and holding the other out to the blonde.

This sets him into motion and he quickly grabs his own board and links his fingers with yours. He has to remind himself to take in this moment, wanting to remember the first time you ever held his hand.

“So how do I do this,” you ask once you have paddled out into the water.

JJ nods. “Normally I would have you do some exercises on land first, but I say you just go for it,” he says, floating on the board next to you.

“Great plan, Maybank,” you say with a slight eye roll. “If I die it's on you.”

JJ laughs. “You're not gonna die, (Y/N),” he tells you. “The waves are small today anyways.”

He explains the basics of how and where to stand before demonstrating on a wave. You admire how his tan body moves gracefully on the board. He makes it look so easy and you smile at the look of concentration he has.

JJ ladles back out to where you are when he is done. “Maybank,” you exclaim. “That was amazing.”

JJ smiles wide. “Now it's your turn.”

You grimace. “It's not gonna look like that.”

“Don't worry, that took years of practice,” he encourages before pointing behind you. “Look, there's a perfect wave coming.”

You look at the wave, gulping in anticipation. “Wish me luck.”

“You got this,” he yells making you laugh. Your heart pounds in your chest as you line yourself up the way JJ had. When the wave comes toward you, you attempt to put your foot where JJ told you. Instead, you miss and fall into the water before you even have the chance to stand.

JJ’s heart drops the moment your head disappears under the water. The waves weren't too big and the current shouldn't be strong at this time of day, but he couldn't help the sick feeling he got watching you fall.

The moment your head pops up out of the water he breathes a sigh of relief. The sound of your laughter is enough to calm his anxieties.

You slide back on your board, paddling back over to JJ. “Well that was embarrassing,” you say with a giggle.

JJ smiles with a small shake of his head. “No one gets it on their first try,” he reassures her. “If you stood up just now I would have sent you straight to a surfing competition.”

A few more tries (and fails) later you notice the sun starting to set over the horizon.

“You ready to go back in,” JJ asks from his board next to you.

You shake your head. “I want to give it one more go,” you tell him. “But you go in and watch from the beach.”

The blonde frowns. “Are you sure?”

“I'll be fine, Maybank,” you say with a small smile. “Plus, then you can watch me better when I shred some waves,” you add in a mock surfer voice.

JJ gives you a slight eye roll before making his way to shore. He meets up with the rest of the pogues who are coming back from up the beach where they had found some bigger waves.

“Getting bored of teaching the newbie,” John B asks when he sees JJ.

JJ gently shoves the boy. “No,” the blonde replies plainly. “She just wanted to give it one last try before we head in.”

The four of them watch from the sand as you make your way towards an upcoming wave.

“I bet you five bucks she doesn't even stand,” John B whispers to Pope.

“Hey,” JJ snaps, turning to look at his two friends. “What are you two idiots doing.”

“Definitely not betting on your girlfriend,” Pope says, sarcasm laced in his voice.

JJ blushes at the word 'girlfriend’. “She's not my girlfriend.”

Even Kie rolls her eyes at this. “Yeah, okay.”

They go silent as you get closer to the wave, watching as you paddle along it. In one graceful motion, you position your feet, straightening your legs until you are standing.

The four pogues cheer as you ride the wave. It's definitely not perfect, but JJ couldn't be more proud.

You ride the wave in, throwing your board on the sand as you run-up to the group. “I did it guys,” you exclaim happily.

Running up to JJ, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, practically jumping into his arms. He catches you easily, spinning you around in excitement.

The blonde puts you down after a minute, reluctant to let go of you. You look up into his eyes, feeling the tension grow.

“You did awesome, girly,” Kie says, drawing your attention away from JJ.

He smiles as he watches you interact with his friends. At that exact moment, his heart feels so full, but he can't explain it.

After everyone is done congratulating you, the six of you gather your things before piling into the van. You tell jokes and chat on the way back to your house.

You give JJ a soft kiss on the cheek before bidding everyone else goodbye. Despite rolling his eyes when his three best friends make fun of him for it, having your lips on his cheek is the last thing he thinks about before drifting off to sleep that night.

Yes, he's definitely falling for you.

Over the next few weeks, you grew closer and closer with the pogues. A few days after your surfing adventure you met Sarah Cameron for the first time, and after that, you were basically a pogue yourself.

When you invited JJ over for dinner at your house, the blonde assumed your parents would hate him like every other kook family. However, your parents and brother treated him with nothing but kindness and respect (how could they not after all the stories you have told them).

Looking back, that was the night you knew you were in love with JJ. Watching him laugh and have meaningful conversations with your family made you fall even harder for him.

Tonight, almost five months after you first met JJ on that rainy night, you are lounging on the floor of John B’s living room cracking jokes with your friends.

You told your parents you were spending the night at Kiara’s, knowing that they would ask fewer questions.

“Kie, pass me the blunt, would you,” John B asks from his spot next to Sarah.

You are sitting next to JJ, your legs stretched across his and your back pressed against the couch. Your eyes watch as John B places the blunt to his lips, inhaling the vapor.

The brunette lifts an eyebrow. “You wanna hit, (Y/N),” John B asks, holding the blunt out with two fingers.

Before you can even open your mouth, the blonde beside you speaks up. “She doesn't smoke JB,” he says annoyed at his best friend for even asking.

You look at him confidently. “Actually, I think I'd like to try,” you say, causing everyone to look at you in shock.

“You sure?” JJ asks softly from next to you. You nod and John B passes you the blunt.

Placing it in between your lips, you inhale like you had seen John B do earlier. Only, when you do it, it sends you into a coughing fit.

JJ rubs your back with a slight eye roll. “Atta girl,” he says with a small chuckle.

It doesn't take long for you to be high out of your mind. You're a lightweight when it comes to alcohol and you probably should have guessed you would be a lightweight when it came to weed too.

At some point in the night, you find yourself sprawled out on one of the hammocks outside in a large, ratty t-shirt you assume belongs to JJ. The stars spin above you and you giggle.

“(Y/N)?” you hear the voice of the boy you're madly in love with, approach.

“Maybank,” you cheer when he finds you on the hammock. He gestured for you to move over and once you do so he plops down next to you.

You're instantly pulled into JJ’s toned chest and you let your head rest easily on his shoulder.

“Is everyone else asleep?” you attempt to whisper, but it comes out louder than you had anticipated.

JJ’s hands find your hair and begin to play with it lightly. “Mhm.”

“So it's just me and you?” you ask sweetly, words slightly slurred from the weed in your system.

He hopes you can't hear how fast his heart is beating from having you this close. “Just you and me.”

“JJ can I ask you a question,” you mumble, the weed making you only slightly more confident.

“F’course,” JJ tells you.

You use your fingers to trace lazy patterns on his bare chest. “How come you never call me any nicknames,” you ask with a pout. “Like I call you ‘Maybank’, y’know and you have a nickname for every one of our friends except me.”

JJ doesn't answer right away and even your wasted mind thinks that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to ask.

“Because I like your name,” he finally says after a while.

A small “oh” is all you can muster, so the blonde boy continues. “I like saying your name. It's really pretty and I like the way it sounds,” he tries to explain, slightly cringing at his words.

“I like you,” you blurt, but it comes out in a slow drawl.

“What,” JJ asks quickly, eyes widening in shock. When you don't reply, he looks down at you only to find you fast asleep on his chest.

His brain is going a mile a minute trying to comprehend what you said. You must've meant it in a friendly way because there's no way someone like you would like a guy like him. Right?

The blonde lays there for hours, unable to sleep with your words on his mind (and your head over his heart). Finally, he coaxes himself to sleep with the thought that you were high out of your mind and didn't mean anything you said.

The next morning you wake up alone in the bed of John B’s guest room. You have no idea how you got there and have little recollection of the previous night.

You stumble out of the small room with a headache and feeling slightly nauseous.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Sarah says with a smile when you appear in the kitchen.

You look around the room, noticing that you were the last one awake. “What happened last night,” you groan, plopping down in the seat between Kiara and JJ

“Well,” Pope says with a smirk. “You had your first official experience with weed.”

You groan again, laying your head in your arms which are folded on the table. You feel a familiar hand rest on your back and you turn your head to look at JJ. He smiles at you and a sea of butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“Well, I should probably get home,” you say, sitting up. JJ pouts at your words and you giggle, leaning over to give him a small kiss on the cheek which unbeknownst to you, makes his stomach fill with butterflies too.

You bid goodbye to the rest of your friends, before stumbling out of the chateau and to your car.

JJ’s eyes follow your body until it is completely out of sight. When he finally sees your car pulling out of the driveway, he looks back to his friends only to find all of them staring at him. “What?”

“Just tell her you love her already,” Kiara says with a dramatic groan causing JJ’s eyes to widen.

John B nods. “Seriously, dude,” he says, “You gotta do it before she gets tired of waiting.”

“What are you guys talking about,” JJ asks innocently despite knowing exactly what his friends are talking about.

“The two of you are madly in love with each other so what are you doing wasting this time you could be spending together,” Sarah reasons.

JJ knows his friends are right, but he doesn't need them breathing down his neck when he does decide to tell you.

You, on the other hand, realized a few seconds into your drive that you forgot your phone. You had turned around and were now making your way back up the porch steps.

“I do not like (Y/N),” lies through his teeth, having no idea that you could hear him clearly through the mesh screen door. “She's just a spoiled, kook, brat that I happened to take pity on. She means nothing to me.”

Each word that passes from JJ’s lips is like a knife to your heart. Completely forgetting your phone, you don't waste any time running back to your car. Hot tears stream down your face at a steady rate as you attempt to get as far away as possible from the boy who broke your heart.

“Okay keep telling yourself that,” John B says to JJ with a small smirk on his lips.

JJ rolls his eyes, but on the inside, he is longing for your sweet lips to press to his cheek again. The dense blonde has no idea that the girl he loves with his whole heart, is currently broken because of him.

Over the next few days, you make every excuse in the book not to see the pogues, knowing that even being in the same room as JJ would be too much.

When Kiara brings by your phone from the Chateau, you immediately break down and tell her what you witnessed. The curly-haired girl wants to tell you the whole truth, but she figures it should come from the idiotic blonde himself.

After three days of not hearing from you, JJ’s worry starts to eat him alive. What if you were sick? Or sad? Or what if you finally realized you were too good for him?

Despite the drizzling rain, JJ takes his bike and makes his way to your house as quickly as he can.

When he knocks on your large oak door and your brother opens it, JJ is immediately brought back to the first day he came to your house. He remembers the pride he felt when you first stood up on that board.

“Hey, Sam. Is (Y/N) here?” he asks, peaking around your brother's shoulder as if you would be standing there like you were that one day.

“No,” Sam says harshly, immediately slamming the door shut in JJ’s face.

The blonde is left there in confusion wondering what is wrong. He knocks on the door again, louder this time.

Sam opens the door again. “What?” he snaps.

“I know she's here,” JJ explains seriously. “I can see her bedroom light from her window and she never leaves her light on.”

Your brother scowls at JJ’s words as if it's an abomination that he knows such an intimate fact about you.

“Leave, JJ,” Sam says, slightly calmer now. “She doesn't want to see you.” He shuts the door again, causing JJ’s heart to break slightly.

What does he mean you don't want to see him?

The blonde steps away from your front door and moves under your bedroom window. The rain is falling much harder now, causing JJ’s curls to plaster to his forehead.

He glances up at your window, suddenly having an idea. It takes him a few tries, but JJ is able to scale your house and make it to your small balcony.

He peers into your room, spotting you laying on your bed, with your back facing him. JJ knocks lightly on your window and you snap your head in his direction.

Your eyes widen when you see his sopping wet form and for a second you forget why you're laying alone in the first place. You rush to the window, undoing the hinges and pulling JJ inside.

Once the blonde is standing in front of you, his words from the other night come rushing back.

“What are you doing here, JJ,” you ask with a small sigh, wrapping your hoodie-clad arms around your stomach.

The blonde frowns. “You called me JJ.”

“That's your name isn't it?”

“Yeah, but yo-you never,” JJ stumbles over his words. “Are you okay? Why haven't you been answering my texts or calls?”

“I was busy,” you say with a shrug, sitting back onto your bed.

“You know you can talk to me, right,” JJ asks as he takes a small step closer to you. “I'll always be here for you.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, okay,” you mumble sarcastically.

JJ flinches back. “What's going on (Y/N)? You're not being yourself. You are always there for me and my problems, so you should know that I'll always be here for you and whatever it is you're going through,” he tells you honestly.

“Oh yeah because you took pity on me, right?” you snap, looking him dead in the eyes as a few tears fall down your cheeks. A look of confusion spreads across his features. “Because I'm a ‘spoiled, kook, brat’ right?”

JJ's heart drops to the pit of his stomach as he realizes what you are talking about. His eyes well with tears knowing why you've been hurting the past few days.

“(Y/N),” he all but whimpers. His hands reach out for you but you pull back.“Please, let me explain.”

You harshly wipe the tears from your cheeks. “I think you made yourself very clear the other day. Leave, JJ,” you tell him.

JJ shakes his head as panic builds in his chest. He struggles to breathe as he realizes that he is about to lose you before he even truly has you.

His breathing becomes more and more erratic and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“JJ,” you ask softly, noticing the arising panic attack. The blonde looks up at you, fear evident in his eyes. Despite the pain, he put you through, you still love him and can't stand to see him in pain. “C'mere JJ,” you say softly, pulling him to sit on your bed. You crouch down below him, shushing him softly.

“You gotta breathe with me,” you tell him, making sure he's watching as you take a few big breaths in. He is able to take a few shaky breaths and soon his heart rate has slowed to a somewhat normal rate, JJ collapses into your arms. “You're okay. It's gonna be okay.”

JJ frowns, pulling away from you slightly. “Why are you being so nice to me,” he asks shakily. “After everything I've done?”

You shrug, looking down.

He uses two of his fingers to gently lift your chin so you are looking at him. “Please let me explain,” he whispers and you nod slightly. “After you left that day, the pogues were messing with me, saying that I was so in love with you n ’shit, so I had to say something that would get them to shut up,” he says quickly, wanting to get through his story so you will stop hurting.

“Nothing I said that day was remotely close to the truth. You are the most kind-hearted person on this island, and for me to even say that you aren't, it's just, I'm so sorry,” he says. “I never meant to hurt you, but I couldn't have the pogues thinking I was in love with you.”

Your heart falls at his words. “Because that would be embarrassing, right?” you say, trying to hide the dejection you are feeling.

“No.” You look up at him in confusion. “Because I didn't want you to find out before I got the courage to tell you myself.”

“What?”

“I'm in love with you (Y/N),” he says with a small smile on his face. “I have completely fallen for you. Everything you do, everything you say, everything you are. You’re my first thought in the morning, you’re my last thought before I fall asleep, and you're almost every thought in between.”

The room goes silent and the only sound that can be heard is the rain softly hitting your window.

“Now is where you say something,” he says with an awkward chuckle.

You open your mouth to speak, but everything you want to say to the boy in front of you is stuck in your throat. “I-” you manage to sutter out.

JJ sighs. “It’s okay,” he says standing up, leaving you to fall limply against your bed. “I figured this would happen. You don’t have to say anything.”

When he moves towards your window, your body seems to catch up with your brain and you run to stop him. JJ turns around, but before he can get a word out, you press your lips to his.

You swear you see sparks fly behind your eyes the moment your lips meet his. The kiss starts softly at first and then builds with an intensity that has you gripping his shoulders for balance. This kicks the blonde into motion. He places one hand softly on your cheek and uses the other to tug your waist closer to him.

The intoxicating taste of weed and mint lulls you closer as your lips move together perfectly. Neither of you ever want to stop. Moving your right hand to lace your fingers in his hair, you tug slightly, causing him to let out a small groan. You smile into the kiss before reluctantly pulling yourself away.

“That was…” JJ trails off breathlessly.

“Yeah,” you agree with a chuckle. “Look, when I first met you, I never would have imagined that I would have such strong feelings for you. I never would have thought that I would miss being by your side, or get butterflies in my stomach when someone mentions your name. When I first met you, I never would’ve thought that I would love you the way I do.”

Tears brim JJ’s eyes as your words fill his heart. “So, you…”

“I love you, Maybank,” you say, not looking away from his eyes.

“Say it again,” he asks in a small voice, eyes wide like he can’t believe the words you are actually saying.

You smile wide. “I love you, so much.”

JJ pulls your body tight to his chest and buries his head into the crook of your neck. “I love you more than anything,” he mumbles into your neck. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say.”

You chuckle, lifting his head off your shoulder and cupping his cheeks with your hands. You place a few soft kisses to his pouty lips causing him to smile wide. “I forgive you, but only because you're cute,” you tell him.

He blushes slightly, leaning down to kiss both of your cheeks and then your lips. Both of you have big smiles on your face when you pull away. “How have I gone this long without kissing you,” JJ says causing you to giggle. He uses the pads of his thumbs to trace your cheekbones. “You’re so beautiful,” the blonde whispers, voice laced with sincerity.

You blush hard and nuzzle your face into his chest. After a second you look back up at him. “Stay the night?” you ask.

JJ nods. “Of course, my love.”

Smiling at the name you pull him towards your closet. “I thought you didn't give me nicknames,” you tease and he shrugs his shoulders.

“That was before,” he says with a smile.

You hum in response, handing him some of his clothes that either he had left at your house or you had stolen from the Chateau. Once he is changed out of his wet clothes, the two of you climb into your bed.

JJ instantly pulls you snug to his chest and you get comfortable and he presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

Both of you know that everything will change after today. Everything is different now, but for some reason, it feels normal to the two of you. It feels like this was how it was meant to be. Just you and JJ, together.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Maybank.”

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

masterlist

1K notes · View notes

space-helen · 3 years

Text

Sweep

Words: 1460

Pairing: Nick Stokes x Reader

A/N: Not proof read again but I wanted to get something out for you all. I hope you enjoy! :)

Request: Maybe a dangerous situation, someone hurt, protective I dunno.I just like to read more nick x reader ^^ - @pumpkinfriend

______________________

The house was cold and uninviting. An eerie silence echoed throughout the property. You followed the police officer ahead of you into the room the victim lay, Nick a couple of steps behind you.

The police officer gestured to the body “We’ll be outside. Call if you need us.” and with that they were gone.

You looked around the study for a moment. “Interesting house layout.” you commented

Nick agreed “Study leads into the bedroom. No living area.”

“Maybe studying was his way of life.”

The man laughed and started to snap pictures of the man in his desk chair. Taking another look you could clearly see the gunshot wound to his head. “It was reported an hour ago right?”

The man nodded “yeah. Reported when neighbours heard the shots. Officers were the first to find his body, still waiting on Superdave to arrive.”

“Poor guy.” you snapped pictures of the photo frames nearby. The shelves looked like they’d been rummaged through. “Looks like he was close with who I can only assume were his parents.”

“He’s really young too. Officer said twenty three.”

“Nice place for a twenty three year old.” you commented “A big collection too. You don’t often see someone this young with material like this.” you gestured to some books on the shelf. “You’ve got it covered here?”

Nick nodded “Yeah, yeah. You take the bedroom.”

You moved across the room through the door into the bedroom. You took in your surroundings and snapped pictures. The man had lived what seemed to be a very clean, and organised lifestyle.

You noticed a drawer in the bedside table open, taking a picture of it, you carefully moved towards it and opened it. Snapping a picture of the inside you noticed that it was unorganised, a huge contrast to the rest of the room. You contemplated moving through to the previous room to grab print powder when you noticed that the wardrobe door was slightly ajar. You could have sworn it wasn’t when you’d come into the room.

Looking through the photos on your camera a cold chill went through your spine “Nick it looks like we have a ghost in here.” you nervously called. But just as the words left your mouth an arm was around your neck and you were being pushed harshly into the wall.

You fought against the man’s grasp and he tugged at your camera that was around your neck to bring you close to him. Wrapping his arm around your neck he squeezed, slowly cutting off your air. Kicking and scratching at the man you finally got free and called for Nick. You were unsure if he even heard you.

The man grabbed you again and pushed you harshly to the floor. You felt a vase smash beneath you on your way down, it must have been knocked over in the struggle. You got to your feet and attempted to move away again.

“Y/N?” Nick instantly reached for his gun when he saw the sight in front of him but instead of drawing it he rushed to break up the fight.

Amongst the struggle between the three you were pushed into the wall and hit your head. Sinking to the floor the realisation your legs and hand were bleeding settled in even though the fight before you was still underway.

Nick pushed the man into a corner and drew his gun. “Hands up. I said hands up.” The man obliged and Nick called for the officers. “Smart move pal.” Nick spat as two officers dragged him away.

The original officer who’d shown you into the property hung back to talk to Nick. “I’m sorry, we did a sweep of the property but-”

“Well now you know for next time to do it better.” he came across slightly patronising “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that. Accidents happen, just don’t let it happen again.”

“I understand.” was all the officer said before disappearing.

Nick quickly made his way over to you. “Y/N? You good?” he took in your features, you were really beat up.

“I’ve been better.” you tried to laugh but it sounded pathetic.

“The first aid kit’s in the other room let me grab it.” The man pushed some hair behind your ear before running into the next room and returning with the first aid supplies. “Now let’s see what I can do before we get you some real medical help shall we.”

You laughed.

“Alright. Show me your hand I can see it’s bleeding.”

You obliged “I cut it on the vase. I think. Also got my leg too but I haven’t checked it out… I’m scared too. It feels bad.”

He nodded “Your hand doesn’t look too bad just some scrapes.” he gestured to your trouser leg “May I?” you nodded and he rolled it up.

You winced at the pain and he apologised “It’s ok.” you squeeze your eyes tight. How bad is it?” you could feel the warm wetness on your knee.

“It’s not nothing. I’ll clean it up a little but I think you have some glass in there. I don’t want to mess with it too much but I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you.”

The man got to work on your knee. During a particularly painful part you reached up and grabbed his shoulder. The man allowed you to squeeze it.

“Alright that’s all done. Anything else?”

“I hit my head pretty bad.” you admitted “It hurts a lot.” the splitting pain from initially hitting it had eased slightly but it was still bad.

“Feel sick? Drowsy?”

“No, it just hurts.”

“Alright.” he nodded to himself “What a ghost hey?”

You genuinely laughed this time.

“Now that’s what I like to see. Alright, let’s get you to the hospital.”

“The scene-”

“We technically can’t take it anymore because of this little…” he words trailed off.

“Yeah, yeah I knew that.” you shook your head “I’m sorry I just forgot.”

“Hey, don’t be sorry.” He gave you a sad smile as he packed away the supplies. “Ready to stand?”

You nodded “I might need some help” The man got to his own feet in front of you.

“That’s ok.” he put his hands out and you took them gratefully. “On three. One, two, three.”

On his count you got to your feet and he supported you. As you stood you attempted to take some uneasy steps.

“It’s alright I’ve got you.” he reassured.

You smiled as he slipped a bag strap over his shoulder. “We’ll stop at the hospital first then go back to the lab.”

“Sounds good to me.”

The man kept you close and supported you as you walked out to the car, he helped you into the passenger's seat before throwing his kit into the trunk and slipping into the driver's seat.

The journey to the hospital was quiet, and he kept looking at you throughout to make sure you were awake and ok. Although you said you were fine he couldn’t help but worry.

Nick parked up the car and was at your side instantly opening the door and helping you out. He sat you down in the waiting area before registering you into the emergency room it didn’t take long for someone to call you into a room. Nick stayed silent and by your side the entire time, watching the Doctor clean and dress the wound appropriately.

“That’s you all set. I’d suggest staying away from heavy work or even taking the rest of the day off. Rest the leg and let it heal.”

And with that you were being sent away from the busy emergency room.

“Back to the lab or home?” Nick offered, knowing which you would pick.

“Lab. I need to make myself useful in some way. Even if it’s just looking at footage or research.”

“Thought so.” he smiled “You just won’t stop will you?”

“Stopping isn’t in my nature.”

“You know they’re going to try and force you to take time off and give you the ‘don’t push yourself’ talk right?”

“I know I just can’t be home alone. I feel like I’m wasting my time.”

“I get that.” there was a pause “but seriously if you need some time off and want company take it and I’ll take some time as well.”

You took a second and thought it over “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Yes you can.” he laughed “We’ll get some take out and watch a movie.”

“Only if I can pick. The last movie we watched was terrible.”

“In my defence Greg picked out that movie.”

“True. We have another movie night with him tomorrow so you better pick a good one.” you teased.

“Only the finest.”

Tag List: (open)

Nick Stokes: @wanniiieeee @pumpkinfriend

CSI:

#nick stokes x reader #csi x reader #csi vegas x reader

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

Pearl Necklace | Lee Bodecker x reader

(sort of an epilogue to the wrong idea, but once again, you don’t really need to read the series to know what’s going on. in fact, if you read the series but didn’t read any of the epilogue blurbs I did for that then this is gonna be just as random lol)

summary: your husband has a special present to give you this christmas.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: smut!! (oral m receiving), slapping, a touch of degradation, some housewife kink, discussions of breeding kink, but also some fluff in there first!!

“Santa!” Beatrice and Penny cheered in unison as they tackled Lee dressed in costume. You had been afraid they would recognize him at first; now you were slightly worried what it meant that they didn’t notice it was their own father behind the fake white beard.

Lee was fully into his character, though, ‘ho ho ho’-ing as he set down his bag of presents to sit down and let the girls jump into his lap on the couch.

“Did you come all the way from the North Pole?” Beatrice asked curiously, while Penny immediately became distracted by the shiny silver belt buckle resting at his stomach.

“Yes I did,” Lee answered, “just to see you.” He accented the last word by tapping Beatrice on the nose with his gloved finger, who blushed and giggled. “You’ve been a good girl this year,” he explained, “which means I have a very important question to ask you: what do you want for Christmas, little miss?”

“I want another sister!” she announced firmly. Lee had put a little bit of your rouge on (because Santa has rosy cheeks and all), but his cheeks were naturally reddening now.

“You’ll, uh, have to ask your mother about that,” he decided as he cleared his throat.

“Pleeeease Santa?” Beatrice whined. “It’s what Penny wants too!”

“Is that so?” Lee stammered, turning to Penny who nodded.

“Pwease, Mister Santa?” she concurred. “We wan’ another sister to pway wif…”

“You two are conspiring with each other now, is that it? You’re both asking for only one thing?”

They nodded in unison and Lee’s gaze drifted to you.

“Is that not the sort of thing elves can make at the North Pole?” you asked him with a smirk.

“Not exactly,” he chuckled. He addressed the girls again, who were waiting impatiently for an answer to their request. “I’ll see what I can do,” he offered, “but how about you two open the presents I brought you for now instead.”

“Fank you Mister Santa!” Penny beamed, giving him a little hug before crawling to the floor and rifling through the bag of wrapped boxes he’d brought for them.

With the girls finally put to bed, you were surprised to see Lee still partially in costume— the beard was gone as he nursed a beer, but he still had on the big red coat and pants, and most noticeably, the hat.

“Girls are asleep,” you informed him as you circled the couch. He only nodded and patted his knee; you obliged as you dutifully sat on his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist, smiling up at you. You could recognize that glimmer in his eyes from a mile away. “Have I been a good girl this year?” you asked quietly.

“Yes,” he whispered, “you’re my perfect girl— such a sweet, obedient little wife, hm?”

You fiddled with the buckle at his waist for a moment, chewing your lip. “I try to be.”

He just looked up at you silently, moving his tongue inside his cheek like he did when he was thinking about something.

“Are we gonna give Penny and Bea what they asked for?” you broke the silence, trying to keep your voice neutral though you felt your eyebrow raise of its own accord.

“You know we are,” he grinned. “We can start tryin’ tomorrow— right now I have another present to give you.”

“What is it?”

“Why don’t we go to the bedroom and I’ll show you?” he offered.

You were trying not to get too excited as he followed you to the bedroom, shutting the door behind the both of you and pulling you into his arms.

“Lee,” you sighed as he started to kiss your neck, making your hands clench and tug at the fuzzy red coat of his costume. He knew exactly the spot that made your head fall back and your lip catch between your teeth, smiling against your skin as you melted into his embrace so easily.

“Gonna give you your present now, pretty girl,” he whispered against your skin. “Don’t you think every good wife deserves a pearl necklace?”

“Lee, you’ve already given me three different pearl necklaces,” you remembered as you gestured to your jewelry box.

“Dumb little baby,” he chuckled, making your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “You’re too innocent for your own good sometimes, princess. Not that kind of pearl necklace.”

“Wh-what kind do you mean?”

“I mean the kind where I cover those perfect tits of yours in my come.”

You swallowed thickly, your thighs clenching together. “Oh.”

He only had to look at you now for you to know what he wanted. You’d memorized his ‘bend over the counter’ look, his ‘hands and knees on the bed’ look, his ‘spread your legs so daddy can get a taste’ look. You even knew the way his voice changed when he called you from work— a.k.a. the ‘be naked and ready when I get home’ voice. Every glance was like an instruction, and you knew the stakes if you didn’t follow his instructions: the dreaded ‘I’ll take you on my knee and spank you until you can’t sit for a week’ look.

This, right now, was the ‘choke on my cock’ look.

“You make a very handsome Santa,” you informed him as you lowered to your knees.

“Ya think so?” he pressed. “You don’t mind that I really can shake my belly like a bowl full’a jelly?”

You giggled at his reference to the old rhyme, shaking your head. “No, I don’t mind that.” You made sure he believed you by planting a few kisses on his stomach on your way down.

The thick velvet of the costume still wasn’t enough to conceal the shape of Lee’s hard cock underneath, making you salivate a bit as you licked your lips and reached under to grab the thick shaft. Pulling it out, you found the head red and swollen, leaking a drop of precum which you savored as you swiped your tongue over his length. He smiled down at you, brushing a bit of hair away from your face before gripping it near the scalp, not quite pulling yet but definitely encouraging you to take him into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he groaned as you closed your lips and sucked, swirling your tongue around the skin, “my good little wife, always getting on her knees for me… take it a little deeper, honey.”

Doing as he’d asked, you felt the tip hit the back of your throat and used your hand to cover the rest. He groaned a little, his head falling back, and you wanted to smile with pride in yourself but suppressed it since this was hard to do while smiling. You were getting quite aroused already, unsatiated pleasure burning between your legs and making your back arch slightly.

He moaned again, a little louder, and you repeated the motion that made him react so strongly. It worked, and his hips bucked forward into your throat, his hand holding you steady by your hair so you couldn’t pull back.

“You like when I fuck your face, huh, princess? Like daddy using your pretty little mouth?”

You moaned around him in lieu of a more articulate response, making him move a little more erratically.

“Stroke it faster, baby, I’m already gettin’ close,” he hissed, and you moved your hand over his length furiously along with twisting slightly as the wrist. “Fuuuuck,” he sighed, “just like that, you’re so fuckin’ perfect, sweetpea.”

You reached down with your free hand to rub yourself through your panties, desperate for some friction on your clit which throbbed and begged for attention, but Lee instantly noticed and slapped your cheek, making you whine.

“Keep your hands where I can see ‘em,” he commanded, using his ‘Sheriff voice’ which only made your need greater as you moaned around him again. He laughed at your desperation, slapping your face a few more times for good measure before suddenly pulling out and stroking his own cock. “Open that dress, show me those pretty tits.”

You hastily unbuttoned the front of your dress, biting on your lip as you saw his cock was stained pink from your lipstick. He always told you that was the best sign of a job well-done. The second your dress was open you were pushing it off your shoulders, nearly ripping your bra as you popped it open and tossed it aside. He groaned when your tits bounced free, and you noticed how hard your nipples were already even when they hadn’t been touched at all.

“‘M close,” he grunted, stroking his cock faster as you licked your lips, sighing as you remembered how incredible that cock felt when it was stretching you open and filling you up. You didn’t get to see him come that often, usually you just felt it, and you always loved how it felt so it was a shame to miss out this time.

“Don’t look so sad, pretty girl, I know you want all this come inside you, don’t you?” He chuckled condescendingly when you nodded. “Well don’t worry, princess, tomorrow I’m gonna knock you up so good you’re gonna forget every word that isn’t ‘yes’ and ‘daddy’.”

“Yes, daddy,” you whimpered.

“Just like that,” he praised. “Fuck, I’m close— ready for your present, baby?”

“Please, daddy,” you begged, moaning as his come shot in spurts onto your chest. His face was so gorgeous when he came: flushed red, biting down on his lip, eyes half-lidded and staring right at you as he covered you in his seed. You felt so dirty as he did it to you, but you loved it— so much, in fact, that you bit down on your lip to keep from getting too loud at the sensation of his hot come painting your tits.

He kept stroking until every drop was on you, sighing as he let go of his softening cock. “Fuck,” he groaned, “you always look good in the presents I give you.”

#lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x y/n #lee bodecker fic

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honeyju · 4 years

Text

home run; lee minho

The four times you try to ask Lee Minho to the winter formal, and the one time he asks you.

genres: fluff, friends to lovers au, high school au, sports au (baseball player minho!!)

word count: 3.8k

a/n: merry christmas!! this is a christmas collab that i’m doing with my friend alice @jjacob in which we write for each other’s ult biases! (mine is juyeon, so if you’re interested in the boyz, i recommend reading her story here, especially since our storylines are a bit connected!) i had a lot of fun learning more about minho during the writing process, and i hope this story represents him well <333

TRY ONE: KEEP IT SIMPLE.

If there’s anyone in the world who knows Lee Minho better than you do, it’s Lee Juyeon.

The two of them have been joined by the hip for as long as you can remember, and if Minho is the relentless tease, spirited and carefree, Juyeon is the gentle thinker, all sweet smiles and wise words. So that’s how you end up frantically dialing his number at nearly one in the morning, too panicked to consider the possibility of him being asleep. You wait with bated breath as the phone rings once, twice, three times before Juyeon picks up the phone, his breathy laugh greeting you instantly.

“I was waiting for this.”

Juyeon’s words cause you to let out a small noise of surprise, and his chuckle sounds in your ear, a little choppy and distant-sounding due to the poor connection, but bright nevertheless.

“What do you mean you were waiting for this?”

“Silly girl,” Juyeon says, and you can tell he’s grinning despite not being able to see him. “Don’t think I didn’t see you look at him when they announced the dance this morning.”

Your face turns red as you recall the mention of the winter formal during the school announcements and the way your head had immediately turned to Minho’s. You were certain that no one else had noticed the longing upon your face when you looked towards your close friend, but hearing Juyeon now leaves you unsure.

“Was I that obvious?” You groan, burying your face in your hands out of embarrassment.

“I wouldn’t worry that much, it wasn’t too apparent,” Juyeon assures you, and yet the spark of doubt in your mind still lingers.

“You think he knows?” You question as you run your fingers through your hair.

“That you like him? I don’t think he’d get that from just one glance.” Perhaps he’s right, for you know that Juyeon is just naturally more perceptive than others, and the things he picks up on don’t tend to be the same as what others notice.

“I hope you’re right. This isn’t how I wanted him to know,” you groan.

“Oh? So you’re planning on telling him? That’s why you called, right?” You know Juyeon’s teasing you by the tone of his voice, and you resist the temptation to whine at him.

“Help me ask Minho to the dance, Juyeon,” you plead, trying to let every ounce of your desperation show in your tone, praying that his response will be yes. There’s a pause, and you find yourself holding your breath in anticipation as you await his next words.

“Well, I can’t exactly ask him for you,” he starts, “but I’ll try to give you some advice.”

“Thank you, Juyeon,” you breathe in relief, switching the call to speaker mode so you can peel it away from your cheek.

“Don’t mention it. First things first, though . . .”

Juyeon trails off without an explanation, and you understand why a few moments later when you catch a flicker of light erupting from your phone out of the corner of your eye. When you lift it up a little higher in your hands, you see that Juyeon has turned his camera on, his face just slightly too close to the camera and his smile filling the screen. You rush to turn yours on as well, switching on a lamp so your face can be seen in the near darkness of the room. After an exchange of waves, Juyeon clears his throat, and even through the blurry quality you catch the blaze in his eyes that suggests he’s gotten idea.

“Y/N, Minho’s at your place right now, isn’t he?” Juyeon asks, and there’s something about his tone that strikes you as a bit too bold for your liking.

“Well, yeah,” you answer hesitantly, “but I think he’s asleep right now.”

“How about you just ask him whenever he’s awake?” Juyeon suggests, and you raise your eyebrows incredulously as you watch him shrug his shoulders like he’s just told you to do the easiest thing in the world.

“Are you insane?” You shriek, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth when you realize how loud you’ve gotten. Juyeon only laughs, his eyes morphing into crescents and his bunny-like smile widening. “You think I should just ask him like that, no preparations or anything?”

“Trust me, Y/N. It’s nice to make things special, but I think that Minho will appreciate your honest confession more than anything else.” Juyeon’s advice is laced with sincerity, and you don’t need to look at his face in the camera to know that he wants the best for you.

“I’m blaming you if things go wrong, Lee Juyeon,” you sigh reluctantly. “But I suppose there’s not really any other way to do it.”

“Give it a try,” he encourages. “I think he’ll like it.”

“Thanks, Juyeon. For picking up so late and for the advice,” you tell him genuinely, and he smiles.

“Anytime, Y/N.”

With that, the two of you hang up, and your head automatically drops to the table to rest in between your arms.

“Just ask him whenever he’s awake,” you mutter to yourself, “How am I supposed to do that? Oh, good morning Minho, breakfast is over there, and by the way, I was wondering if you wanted to go to the winter formal with me?”

The words sound stupid no matter how you say them, and you can’t stop yourself from the feeling of hopelessness that strikes you as you trudge back to the bed where you find Minho laying peacefully on his side. You smile, tilting your head as you watch him for a moment until he suddenly turns over so he’s lying on his back, blinking repeatedly until his eyes focus on you.

“You’re back?” His words are hoarse and followed by a yawn, which you laugh at softly.

“Sorry, Minho, did I keep you up?”

Minho says nothing and instead pats the space beside him on the bed, to which you oblige, instantly climbing in to lay next to him. He inches closer to you, resting his head next to your shoulder and quietly snuggling into your side. Trying to ignore the way your heart has sped up in response to his figure latching onto yours, you recall Juyeon’s words from before, realizing that he’s awake right now, and perhaps you have a chance.

“Minho?” Your voice comes out in a whisper, and you don’t dare to look at him out of fear for your heart.

“Hmm?” Minho’s response is sleepy, slightly muffled from your shoulder but unbelievably soft.

“Are you by any chance going with someone to the winter formal?” You ask hesitantly, squeezing your eyes shut out of embarrassment. Minho makes a small noise of disagreement, and you can feel his head shaking against your side as if in extra confirmation.

A relieved sigh falls from your lips, but your next words get stuck in your throat when you come to the realization of just how scary it is to confess. You can’t stop the swarm of worries that hit you, overcome by the question of whether he doesn’t see you as anything more than a friend, and if asking him to the dance will jeopardize your relationship with him. You know that you can’t hold your feelings in forever, though, and you think of Juyeon’s kind motivation when you say your next words.

“D’you maybe wanna go to the formal together?”

There’s a heavy silence, your question lingering in the air unanswered, and your heart sinks in your chest at the lack of response.

“Minho?” You try again quietly. Dread overtakes you as you guess that perhaps his silence is a form of his rejection, and you can’t help but wonder how you’re going to get yourself out of this one. When you turn on your side to face him, however, you find that he’s already fallen back asleep, light snores emitting from his parted mouth. A small smile creeps up your face as you unconsciously lift your hand to stroke his hair, mindlessly dragging your fingers through the silky strands. He leans into your touch, eyes still closed as he mumbles meaningless words out of fatigue and shifts so he’s closer to you.

Maybe tomorrow, you think to yourself, resting your head on the top of his and letting your eyes fall shut as sleep overtakes you.

TRY TWO: MAKE IT SPECIAL.

Your heart pounds as you tug the door open to the café, peeking inside to find the area mostly empty save for a handful of students at the far end. You thank the heavens for appearing just on time, the familiar sight instantly soothing your nerves. You set the large plastic bag you’d brought along with you on one of the tables, laughing a little as you begin to empty it of its contents one by one.

“Look at you, Y/N,” you mumble to yourself, “bringing this food and getting all dressed up for a man.”

The last item in the bag makes you smile, despite yourself, and you pull out the small box of chocolates that you had bought in the morning, setting it down to complete the collection. You marvel at the assortment of treats you’d gotten for him, shaking your head as you sit down to try and calm yourself from the slight tension of it all. Glancing up to check the time in one of the clocks hung up on the wall, you realize with jittery anticipation that he’ll be arriving soon.

Five minutes pass, and he’s nowhere to be seen.

You think nothing of it until another ten minutes pass, and you begin to wonder what’s holding him up, trying not to let the feeling of unease get to you as you assure yourself that he might just be running a bit late. Your foot begins to tap quietly against the tiled floor, an anxious habit of yours you’d never managed to quite get rid of.

Thirty minutes pass, and you pull your phone out from your side pocket, unlocking it to stare at his contact in part hesitation and part concern.

Should I call him?

You weigh out your options, wondering if you’ll sound too demanding if you call to ask if something’s wrong. However, your phone appears to solve the problem for you, the shrill sound of its ringing interrupting you from your thoughts. You jump at the sudden noise, but accept the call instantly upon seeing the caller ID.

“I was just about to call. Is everything okay?” You ask, and your eyes widen in worry at the sound of Minho panting on the other end.

“Y/N,” he breathes, “I—I’m sorry. Coach is keeping us in an extra hour, and—”

“Slow down, Minho,” you urge, “first catch your breath.”

He hums in agreement, and your face falls when you process his words, realizing the true reason he called. Although you know he’s not the one to blame, you can’t help the feeling of disappointment that creeps up inside of you as you glance down at the chocolates and favorite foods of his sitting on the table.

“You’re saying you can’t make it today, right?” The words come out softer than you mean for them to, and Minho sighs regretfully.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. You know we have that big game coming up tomorrow, and—look, if you want, I can leave practice.” His voice is gentle, apologetic, and tears sting your eyes upon hearing how willing he is to risk getting kicked from the team for you.

“No, you can’t,” you shake your head frantically. “I’m not letting you suffer the consequences of that for something this small. Go have fun, okay? We do this regularly anyways, we can just meet up next time.”

You hear a rustle on his end, followed by the voices of his teammates calling out for him. “Are you sure?” Minho asks, a twinge of concern in his tone.

“I’m sure! Now go, they’re calling you,” you encourage, trying to sound as cheerful as you can to convince him.

It works, to your relief, for Minho’s next words are bright. “You’re a lifesaver, Y/N,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice before he ends the call.

There’s a moment of silence as you look at the goodies once more, before your eyes land upon the box of chocolates, and you pry the lid open to find them already beginning to melt. Reminding yourself that you won’t be seeing him today anyways, and that there’s no use wasting a perfectly good box of chocolates, you pop one of them in your mouth. The corners of your lips tug upwards at the savory taste, and you let out a deep exhale as you remember that you’re not out of ideas just yet.

“More for me, I guess,” you mutter, trying not to lose hope. “On to try three!”

TRY THREE: GO ALL OUT.

The sign leaning against your legs serves as a constant reminder of just how whipped you are for Minho, and at times it amazes even you just how far you’re willing to go for him. Making sure no one else can see it, you take yet another glimpse at the cardboard sign you spent the entirety of last night making, lifting it enough for it to rest in your lap. You stare at the bolded words drawn on the surface in capital letters, surrounded by small designs and stickers in a variety of colors.

I might strike out asking, but will you go to the winter formal with me?

An embarrassed laugh bubbles out of your throat and you find yourself yet again bewildered by the sheer cheesiness of it all. You can’t bring yourself to raise it, however, telling yourself that tensions are too high right now and that you’ll show him later when there’s no potential of the sign distracting him. You set it back down at your feet, and you look past the sea of people to search for Minho in the group of players on the baseball field.

Murmurs of “the score is so close,” “we need a home run to win,” and “we’re gonna lose, aren’t we?” echo around you in the stadium, and your mind immediately flashes back to Minho’s words from before the game.

“If I win, you have to do any one thing that I want for me.”

You had teased him and asked him what he’d do if he lost, but Minho had only shrugged nonchalantly, telling you that he’d do anything you wanted if that was the case.

Looking down at him on the field now, you watch as he readies himself at the batter’s box, and despite the near-impossible chance of him securing the team a win, something about the blaze in his eyes tells you that he won’t be losing today. Just before the pitcher can pitch the ball, he looks up towards the stands, his eyes scanning the crowd to find you. When he does, he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t mouth anything, but somehow through his gaze, you already know exactly what he wants to tell you: he’s going to win.

The pitcher steps forward, raising his leg and leaning back with the ball before he throws it with a single fluid motion. The ball spirals forward towards Minho with immense speed, and you watch breathlessly as he positions himself to hit it. He swings the bat, and a gasp leaves your mouth.

What happens next is a blur, and by the time you can process what’s happening, Minho has already tossed the bat and reached base one. You squint your eyes as you search for the ball, managing to glimpse it right before it falls outside the gates of the field. You cover your mouth with your hands in shock as you look back down to Minho just in time to watch his foot touch the second base.

“He hit it all the way out!” Shouts and exclamations of surprise reverberate around you as the audience rises to its feet eagerly.

Base three.

All attempts to stop him are useless at this point, you realize, for Minho’s already making his way to the final base, his features hardened by determination. Just before he reaches the end, Minho finds you in the crowd once more. His gaze remains locked on yours as he flashes you a small grin, his foot touching the home plate at the exact same moment.

Home run.

For an instant, there’s nothing but dead silence, and then the entire audience erupts into applause, the noise turning almost unbearable as it rings in your ears. The edge of the sign scratches against your leg as you stand up, and you’re reminded of the dance as you impulsively grab hold of the cardboard, getting on top of your seat as you prepare to raise it. When you inspect the field one last time to ensure Minho is still there, you find that he’s lost in the arms of his teammates, all shouting excitedly and clapping him on the back among cheers.

Your shoulders slump as you realize that there’s no way he’ll be able to see your sign with all the ruckus, and you dejectedly get down from your seat, making your way off the stands and exiting the stadium.

As you trudge home, you wonder if you’ll even be able to face him without blushing, let alone ask him to the formal.

TRY FOUR: NO INTERRUPTIONS.

The next time you see Minho, you’re stepping through the open door of Chan’s house, and you’re met with the sight of the entire team laughing recklessly, joking around and shoving each other playfully over a set of pizza boxes. Small decorations and streamers are hung up in colors of red and green to highlight the approach of Christmas, and something about the setting makes you feel delightfully warm. It’s somehow exactly the kind of celebration you imagined, and when you look towards the team once again, you find Minho in the center of all the chatter, just as you always do.

When he catches you standing before them, he freezes, and his gaze morphs into something different, almost hungry, as his eyes slowly trail over your figure from top to bottom. The intensity of his stare seems to burn into you, and you watch in quiet anticipation as he separates himself from the group to walk up to you.

There are no excuses now, you think. No interruptions, no distractions, no reasons to prevent you from asking him.

“‘Come to the celebration party at Chan’s place, and I’ll tell you there,’” you greet, quoting his text from hours before, and Minho smiles sheepishly. “Well, I’m here now. What is it that you want?”

“You look beautiful,” is his response, and your next words are forgotten as your face goes up in flames.

“I’m glad you think so. It took me a long time to find this dress,” you mumble, staring down at your feet to hide your blush.

“I’m not talking about the dress,” Minho says, and your eyes widen as you look back up to search his face. He turns away before you can look too hard, rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks turn red. “Anyways,” he mumbles, avoiding your eyes, “you told me you wanted to ask me something too, right?”

“You first,” you blurt, still too flustered from his compliment to think straight. Your words, however, are drowned out by a particularly loud screech emitting from the other end of the room, followed by the booming laughter of the rest of the team. Furrowing his brows, Minho cups his ear and leans closer to you, prompting you to repeat the words in his ear. Another series of laughs sounds from the room, and Minho takes your hands in his to bring you to a more empty section of the house.

“Finally,” he breathes when the two of you are safe from disturbances. “I swear, they can get so loud sometimes.”

You giggle at his words. “Tell me what you want for winning,” you urge him, trying to do whatever you can to delay your turn. Minho’s face darkens, and something about the way his gaze turns intense makes your heart race.

“Look up,” he whispers, his hands tightening around yours. You obey, your eyes drifting up as you find yourself staring at what you think could be one of the most beautiful bunches of mistletoe you’ve ever seen, hanging from the ceiling and twinkling under the soft light. You gulp upon realizing its implications, your tongue swiping over your lips out of nervous habit. You look back down to face him, and you find that his expression reflects the same desire he displayed before, his eyes sparkling as the corners of his lips turn up.

“We can’t break tradition, now can we?” He teases, leaning forward just enough for your noses to touch, his lips barely ghosting over yours so you can feel the warmth of his breath upon your face. When you close your eyes, your own lips parting, he closes the distance.

Time seems to freeze in place as his soft lips meet yours, his hands dropping to your waist as his lips move slowly against yours. There’s a passion in his kiss that you’re reciprocating before you even know it, and a slight smile shapes his lips that you can’t help but mirror. He’s the first to pull away, resting his forehead on yours for a moment as he catches his breath.

“You have to do any one thing that I want right?” He breathes. “Go to the winter formal with me.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, your eyes flying open in shock and immediately finding his as you soften at the sincerity in his face.

“You mean that?” You murmur, and a smirk graces Minho’s features, one you’ve become so familiar with after countless years of him teasing you.

“’Course I do. That’s what you were gonna ask me too, right?” He raises his eyebrows knowingly. You blink for a moment, tilting your head slightly as you process his words. Then it hits you.

"Juyeon told me I wasn’t being obvious!” You grumble, pouting in dismay.

“Well,” Minho laughs, “I only had a small idea that you liked me. What confirmed it was that sign you made—I might strike out asking, right? I may have gotten a peek at it when you left to get water before the game.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t look! That’s not fair,” you whine, hitting his shoulder playfully.

“It’s the reason I’m asking you now though, isn’t it? So tell me, Y/N. Will you go to the dance with me?” Minho smiles softly, the light in his eyes is akin to that of the mistletoe berries gleaming above you. You can’t stop your mouth from pulling into a wide grin, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pull him closer to you, letting your lips answer his question as they meet his once more.

LEE MINHO; TRY ONE: SUCCESS!

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