#another thought for the anon that i got was if this was meant to waver my thoughts on z/erith buuttt here's my response | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lees-chaotic-brain · 5 months

Note

You and I by richard hadley and the death ramps, toji, fluff if possible but anything else is great too!!

WC: 2.4k

CW: sorry anon i threw a tad bit of hurt/comfort into the fluff, NOT beta read, editing what's that?, reader referred to as a biker girl, swearing, toji being a bad partner (dw he pulls it together), possibly very ooc idk i've never written for him before, plz don't ask how this got so long i honestly have no idea

taglist: @arlerts-angel @ponderingmoonlight @m0k0k0

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There was something off about you. It left him unable to keep his eyes off you, but he didn't have the faintest idea of what it could be.

Was it the emotion in your music? No, that couldn’t be it because there almost always was some musician or another at the diner. And they were normally pretty decent. Maybe it was the motorcycle helmet and keys sitting next to your bag behind you. But he had been around biker girls before, so that didn’t make sense. What was it?

He always goes to this particular diner for lunch when he could, but today as he sat there examining you the place felt different. The smudges and signatures inked on the walls seemed to add to the atmosphere instead of being an eyesore, and the smell of grease and fast food almost comforting. The atmosphere seemed different today, and he felt like it had something to do with you.

Caught up in his musing, he didn’t even notice he was staring at you until you shot him a cheeky smile and a wink as you sang. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he refocused on his neglected lunch, shoveling it down to try and forget what your gaze had done to him. For some reason, he found himself wishing you would look at him again, that feeling lingering throughout the rest of the day and into the next.

I like the way you look at me baby

Toji Fushiguro doesn’t make mistakes. Not because he was born perfect, but because the reality of his life was that one mistake meant death. In a world where cursed energy was deemed necessary to fight curses he made do with brute strength alone. Which worked. Normally.

See, for his way of doing things to work, he needed to have his head in the game. To be one hundred and ten percent focused on the fight at hand. So why the fuck was he thinking about you? And why the actual fuck was the thought of you enough to throw him off his game??

These were all things running through his head as he finished off the curse before slumping to the ground beside it, one large hand pressed against the wound on his ribs as blood seeped out through his fingers.

He couldn’t afford to lose focus. One moment of distraction and this had happened. If it weren’t for his quick reflexes he would be dead right now. So he had no choice. He had to get to the bottom of this. He had to go back and see you again, if only to see what made you so special. All so that he could focus on his job, of course.

At least that’s what he told himself as he returned to the diner, hoping to see you again.

I act as if I'm not going crazy

Girl I'm in a muddle tonight

Packing up your stuff after a long gig at your local diner, you couldn’t wait to get home. Caught up in your fantasies of a hot bath and a pack of instant ramen, you didn’t notice the man approaching you until he stopped in front of you, his shadow blocking the light.

“Sorry, they’re closed, I'm just headed out now.” You look up, vaguely recognizing the hunk of muscle that stood in front of you. Oh, that’s right. He’s the guy who was staring at you during your performance the other day. You wondered what he needed.

“Give me your number.”

“Excuse me?” Of all the things you expected him to say, demanding your number was not one of them. “May I ask why you need it?”

“Just cause.” He folds his beefy arms across his chest, not wavering as you narrow your eyes and scrutinize him, unsure if he’s being serious. Unfortunately, you think he is.

“Listen.” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’ve had a long day. I’m tired. I want to go home. If you want my number, you have to give me something more to work with here, buddy.”

“Buddy?” He quirks an eyebrow, a smirk stretching the small scar at the corner of his mouth. “Do I look like a “buddy” to you?”

You make a show of examining him closely before straightening. “No, you’re right. You look like the guy who ate my buddy. Which is exactly why I don’t think I should give you my number.”

And with that, you sling your bag over your shoulder and leave, climbing on your bike and speeding away. Assuming that would be the last you saw of him, you were surprised when you arrived for your next performance and found him waiting there for you.

“Didn’t get enough of me, huh.” You snark, breezing by him. “At least leave a nice tip this time, ‘kay?”

“No.” His deep voice rumbles from behind you, and you spin to see him staring at you with a stupidly sexy grin on his stupidly hot face.

“Why not?”

“Cause I’m broke.”

You’re unable to hold your snort in, surprised and amused by his unashamed bluntness. Still laughing to yourself, you turn around and pat his bicep.

“Sorry, buddy.” His mouth quirks at your emphasis on the offensive word. “Now you’re definitely not getting my number.”

With that, you walk inside, leaving him outside on the sidewalk with a sneaking suspicion that he just fell in love with you.

Would you tell me where you're gonna take it

If I had a heart you're the one who should break it

Two years later and he has successfully obtained your number, and the two of you are now in a semi-serious relationship. Surprisingly, you were the one to initiate the relationship, despite repeatedly rejecting him when you first met.

At first things had been really nice, as close to perfect as things could be, in your opinion. He was by no means a gentleman, or good with his words, but his dry humor and actions were enough to convey his affection towards you. And that was enough.

Or, at least it was, until he stopped showing up. About a year or so into your relationship he started standing you up occasionally due to work. Honestly, you weren’t entirely sure what his job was, only that it required him to travel and stay in good shape.

The first few times it happened, you brushed it off. After all you were both adults with jobs and lives outside of each other. Of course you would be busy. But then it started happening more and more, and the periods of time he was gone became longer and longer.

The breaking point came around your two year anniversary. You had received a job offer that would require you to move, and as much as you wanted to take it you knew you had to talk it over with him first. There was just one problem. You hadn’t seen him in over a month.

With your two year anniversary approaching, you really wanted to try and reconnect because you hadn’t felt close to him in awhile, and with this job opportunity on the horizon you had to think about whether or not continuing your relationship was worth it.

So you told him that you really wanted to celebrate your two year anniversary with him, and that you had something important to tell him. Not ready to give up on your relationship yet, you put a lot of effort into the night, buying a new dress and cooking a nice dinner for the two of you to share.

But just as you finish setting the table and tidying up the house because he’s due to arrive any second, your phone dings.

Toji <3: Sorry. Won’t be able to make it tonight. Took another job. I’ll be back next week.

The engines running, can't decide if I should ride away

Tired and sore from the last job he had accepted, Toji heads back to your shared apartment, eager to see you again. He didn’t particularly enjoy taking on new jobs, but money didn’t grow on trees so he didn’t really have a choice. He did miss your cooking and affection when he was gone though.

Fumbling with his keys, he finally manages to get the door open and steps inside, only to be greeted by a dark apartment. That was strange. Normally you were home by now. The thought crosses his mind that something could have happened to you, and he slips into the living room, panic stirring in his stomach.

Moving with an amount of stealth unexpected of someone his size, he checks the entire apartment, only to find it empty, with no sign of…anything, really. Realizing that you could just be out with friends, he flicks on the lights and plops down on the couch with a sigh.

Stretching his arms above his head and yawning, a piece of paper sitting innocently on the coffee table with his name on it catches his attention. Absentmindedly cracking his neck, he reaches down and grabs it, gently unfolding it.

His heart sinks as he scans it, your familiar handwriting suddenly illegible. Because there’s no way he’s reading this right. There’s no way you left. There was no reason for you to. Things were great between the two of you. At least, that’s what he had thought, but according to the letter in his hands you didn’t feel the same way.

The next few minutes pass in a blur of tearing open dresser drawers and frantically searching closets for a sign that you hadn’t packed up all of your belongings and left. But all he found was empty space, the smell of your perfume still lingering in the air, despite it being devoid of your presence.

Finally taking a moment to stop and process, he finds himself wondering what he’s so worked up about. So what if you left? It’s not like he needs you or anything. He didn’t even do anything to warrant you leaving! Sure he missed your anniversary, but he planned to make it up to you when he got back! And maybe it wasn’t even the first time he had stood you up like that on an important date, but if you were willing to leave over something as miniscule as that, were you even worth keeping?

At least that’s what he kept telling himself as he went on with his life pretending there wasn't a gaping hole in his life that you used to fill.

Too stubborn to be the first person to reach out when he still felt he hadn’t done anything, a month went by without any contact between the two of you. In the beginning it didn’t bother him that much, because the reality hadn’t fully set in yet. But slowly as the weeks wore on, so too did the absence of all the little things he hadn’t realized he took for granted.

Like the way your quiet humming brought life to the otherwise dull apartment. Or the way your things scattered around on various surfaces had been a constant reassurance of your presence. He missed you scolding him and telling him he needed to take a break, he missed your laughter, he missed your kisses, he-fuck.

He missed you so much. What was he doing?

I had a woman, she went away

And now I'm lonely, fuck it

It’s now been a month since you left in a storm of hurt feelings and anger, but you still hadn’t heard from him. Deep down, you hadn’t expected to actually break up. You figured you would leave and time to cool down. Then when he got back and realized you left it would be a major wake up call for him and he would come running to you with an apology and then he would change.

Instead you got radio silence. You weren’t too concerned the first week because you knew Toji was as stubborn as you were and probably didn’t want to be the first one to reach out and admit he was wrong.

So you waited (semi) patiently, but when a second, then a third week went by without a word, you were faced with the possibility that he wouldn’t ever call. That the two of you truly were over.

Which is why when you were awoken from your nap on the couch by loud knocking at three in the afternoon, you shouted informing them that you would be there in a second as you adjusted your clothes assuming that someone just needed you to sign for a package or something like that.

What you were definitely not expecting to see was your kinda ex-boyfriend standing stiffly in your doorway, staring steadfastly at something over your head.

“Um. Hello?” You lean against the door frame and tuck your hands into your pockets, hoping to conceal their trembling. “You need something?”

“Yes. Actually. I do.” His eyes met yours, and you were shocked by the raw emotions swirling in them. “I need us. Together. You with me. Me with you. The way things are meant to be. I know I can be a bit of an asshole sometimes-”

You snort and raise your eyebrows. “Well, a lot of the time.” He amended, rolling his eyes.

“But, I do really care about you and while I’m not the greatest with my words, or the brightest guy you’ll ever meet, I promise that if you call me out on my bullshit I’ll listen and do my best to change.”

You pretend to think it over, as if the two of you getting back together wasn’t inevitable the second you saw him standing in your doorway. “Let me see…oh wait. One second.”

Pulling out your phone you tap away for a couple of seconds before sliding it into your back pocket. “Sorry ‘bout that. I just accepted this job. Let me get back to you in a week.” With that snarky comment and a smug wink, you shut the door firmly in his face and he hears the sound of the deadbolt clicking into place seconds later.

For a moment he stands there, unsure what to do before he starts laughing. There was the feisty person he had fallen in love with and missed so desperately. And when he heard your quiet chuckles coming from the other side of the door, he knew the two of you would be okay.

The two of you were able to laugh and be together. Just the way you belong.

You and I

#lee's brain writes #lee's brain writes: requests #lee's song fic event #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk fanfiction #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #toji x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n

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too-many-baes · 2 years

Text

The Wandering Shelby’s

Pairing: fem!Shelby!reader x Shelby Brothers

Warning(s): Alcohol consumption

Word Count: 2.4K

Request: “Can I request a Tommy Shelby x daughter where she goes to a nightclub on her 18th birthday, and he, Arthur and John follow her to make sure she’s alright” - by Anon

A/N: Day four Non-Stop August! This is an old request that had been sitting there for a while since my hiatus, and I was only too happy to get to it now. I thoroughly enjoyed writing this one, so thank you for the idea!

“Okay bye Dad!” You yell as you shrug your short fur shawl on top of your shoulders. You’d almost reached the front door and thought you’d hit your timing perfectly, but the signature abrupt yell from your father had you looking up and cursing the sky. So close.

“I don’t think so, come in here.” You grumble and stomp your heel at the door for effect before you shuffle your way into the living area. What you found was not an unusual sight, your father, Thomas Shelby, smoking a cigarette with your uncles, Arthur and John. When you appear in the doorway you’re met with absolute silence. Tommy finishes the large puff he’d been taking, blowing it out nonchalantly and shaking his head as he did.

“I don’t think so.” You raise your eyebrow defiantly and shrug your shoulders.

“You don’t think so, what?” You catch Arthur hiding a smirk out of the corner of your eye, but know better than to stand down to a stare off when it was your father involved.

“Get changed, you’re not wearing that.” You looked down to assess yourself.

You had gone and bought yourself a new dress for your birthday, with permission of your father of course, and that was what you had put on. The garment was a deep green and completely covered in sequins right down to your midthigh, where the hem of the garment ended and the delicate fringing that reached your knees began. You knew the piece was a little on the racy side of things, with a v neck line that showed off more of your cleavage than you had ever dared before. You weren’t purposely trying to upset your father though, and had the good sense to put on a pair of fine fish net tights underneath and the black fur shawl that hung around your shoulders.

“I absolutely am wearing this, you said I could buy a new dress.” Tommy’s eyes slightly widened at your statement.

“And that’s what you bought? When I said a dress,” he said your name in his signature parental scolding tone that you had grown accustomed to over the last 18 years, “I meant a dress, not whatever scraps of fabric they could find at the shop.” You let a very unbecoming whine escape your lips at his scolding that had both of your uncles laughing.

“This is what everybody is wearing.”

“Well, no Shelby would be caught dead in it, you have the family name to uphold I’ll remind you.”

“Oh c’mon Tommy,” John piped up, “it’s her 18th, let the girl have some fun.” You smiled over at John, the uncle you could always count on to have your back on matters such as these. You often put it down to him being the youngest of the three and having a little more of a party streak than what you ever imagined your father had.

A honking from outside pulled your focus, looking at the door quickly and then back at your father.

“That would be Helen, and my cue to leave.” You walk over to a still complaining Tommy and press a kiss onto his cheek, his stern gaze not wavering at the gesture.

“I still wish you’d have let me tell Ada.”

“There’s no way I’d have let her come.” You yell from the hallway. You scoop up your beaded black clutch from the hallway table and yell a goodbye to the three men, hearing an array of ‘be careful’s’ and ‘don’t drink to much’s’ follow you out the door. You shake your head at your worrying family. They’d been the same way ever since you’d been a little girl, and although you didn’t really think they’d stop as you got older, a girl could dream.

Another honk from the car pulls you out of your thoughts and has you running to meet the ever impatient Helen, who looked stunning in a red tiered fringe number.

“Happy birthday!” Your best friend squealed, pulling you into a bone crushing hug once you were seated in the back with her. Helen was your best friend and two years older than you, so she had been more than delighted when you’d asked her to be your guide around town for the night.

If you’d have been any other teenager you would have been sneaking in to clubs years ago, but your father kept a close eye on you. And as much as you liked to play the rebel, you had listened to your father when he’d said people would know who you were and know that you’d have been underage.

So here you were giggling with your friend as she popped a bottle of champagne for the car ride, chauffer taking you to your first stop of the night.

*******

You were sweaty, tired, and more than a little tipsy, but that was not stopping you as you and Helen continued to dance, flailing your legs and arms around to the beat of the music.

You were currently in club number four. You’d lost track of the time after club two, too happy and giggly to be caring about such trivial things.

Helen motioned behind her, wordlessly telling you that she was going to grab you both another drink each. You nodded happily, pointing to where you were stood to indicate you’d be right here.

The song changed when Helen had reached the bar, slowing down to a tempo that had the men and women who had previously been bopping suddenly pulled in close and swaying. You were about to exit the dance floor and join Helen at the bar when a tapping on your shoulder had you pausing and turning.

There stood a man who was a complete stranger to you holding out his hand and looking at you with a smirk on his face. On any other night you’d have said no, but it was your birthday, and you felt like enjoying this night to the fullest.

You accepted the dark haired mans hand, and he swiftly pulled you in so your bodies were pressed firmly against one another. The hand you’d taken stayed holding yours while the other placed itself at a respectable height on your waist.

“Richard.” He stated simply as your hand went to rest on his shoulder after it had snaked it’s way up the length of his arm first. You replied with your own name, a coy smile on your face as you did. The smile and gesture brought a larger smile to his face as he leant down to your ear to ask you a question. The words got lost in translation as you noticed someone at the bar talking to Helen that pulled all of your focus.

At the first club you’d thought you’d noticed the shaved side of a ginger head in passing that looked suspiciously like Uncle Arthur. At club two, a tweed flat cap that looked like it belonged to Uncle John, and at club three you could’ve sworn you’d seen your father at the door as you’d entered, smoke billowing from his mouth.

Now, there was no denying it. Sat at the bar talking to Helen was indeed your father and it made you furious. A small excuse to Richard had you leaving his question ignored as you broke from the embrace and high tailed it to the bar before Tommy could notice. As you got behind him you caught a snippet of their conversation.

“Of course I’ve been looking out for her Thomas, I would never let anything happen.”

“Oh yeah,” he said accompanied by a scoff, “is that why she’s on the dancefloor right now with some creeps hands all over her?” He whipped his head to where you’d left Richard to prove his point, where his eyes widened in panic at no longer finding you there.

“Looking for something, or should I say, someone?” Your voice had him frozen on the spot, stuck in the knowledge that he’d been caught in the act. When he finally turned to look at you, he saw you stood there with your hands on your hips and the signature Shelby annoyance plastered on your face.

“Look darling-”

“Don’t ‘look darling’ me Dad, what the hell are you doing here?” His mouth, that had been hanging open upon being interrupted, snapped shut as you could see the cogs turning in his head, trying to figure out how he could explain his way out of this.

“Alright so his name is Richard Quinn and he works at the offices in town. Now I reckon that…” You spun around to find Arthur standing there, obviously having not noticed your presence until he had dug himself in too deep.

“Thank you Arthur.” Tommy’s voice was dripping with sarcasm as he pulled out a cigarette with a sigh.

“Oh so you’re spying on the people I talk to as well? Stalking not enough for you lot?” Both men refrained from speaking as you stood there shaking your head at them. “Right then, I’ve had it.” Quick as a flash you scoop up your belongings that Helen had been sitting by and march to the door. Once outside you lean up against the building and take what was supposed to be a grounding breath of cold air.

You thought you could feel yourself calming down until you noticed John Shelby stood on the opposite side of the wall you were on, debating whether or not to hide or stay put and hope for the best.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You march towards the Shelby who now knew that he’d been sighted as he tried to act casual by leaning against the brick. “You know Dad and Uncle Arthur is one thing, but I thought you were better than this Uncle John.” You spit out with an accusatory finger pointed at his face. He had the good grace to look sheepish at least, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as he took your scolding. You stepped out to the edge of the footpath and raised your hand in an attempt to hail a taxi before your arm was pulled out of the air.

“If you want to go home we’ll take you. We’re heading the same place after all.” John’s calm did nothing to quell you into agreeance, instead you ripped your arm out of his grasp and raised it again, trying to catch the attention of an upcoming cab. You smiled to yourself when the car pulled over, feeling victorious in escaping your meddling family of Shelby’s.

You celebrated too soon, as the door you’d just opened was slammed shut by your father, who leant in the passenger seat window and told the driver to jog on.

“You’re coming home with us.” When Tommy saw you still stood, fuming, in the same spot when the other three had made moves to head towards their car, he stormed over and grabbed you by the crook of the elbow, pulling you along behind him.

“Let go of me Dad, I’m not a child.” You state, even as you thrashed and tried to remove his grip like a petulant kid. He spun around to look at you, a fire in his eyes that stilled your movements.

“The second you stop acting like a child I’ll stop treating you like one, now get. In. The car.” His words were clipped and punctuated, making you get into the back seat without another word. You knew when you’d lost, even if you did slam the door once seated.

The car ride was silent and filled with smoke, as Tommy and Arthur sat smoking in the front and John sat beside you with a cigarette between his lips. You’d been holding back until now, but it felt like the silence had gripped your throat and squeezed, forcing tears out of the corners of your eyes as you gazed out the window. You tried to wipe them away before they were seen, but John caught you in the act.

“Awh c’mon kiddo, it’s not that bad.” He shuffled over closer to you, pulling you into a side hug so that your head rested on his shoulder as he rubbed your arm up and down. The tears continued to fall as you sat there embarrassed, with your father looking at you in the rear view as he drove and Arthur occasionally turning to catch a glance.

“I’m 18 now you three. How long before you trust me?”

“It’s not that we don’t trust you,” Arthur finally spoke from the front, “we just worry.”

“We know better than most that there are bad people out there darling. Our worrying got the better of us.” You sniffled on John’s shoulder raising your head with a final wipe of your eyes as you looked at your father.

“I know that Dad, but you can’t go following me around everywhere. You’re going to have to trust that I have the good sense enough to watch out for myself. I am a Shelby after all.” That had your uncle’s releasing a laugh, but your Dad simply held your gaze in the rear view as the car rolled to a stop outside your house. You took the silence as your cue to leave before the others were dropped home.

As annoyed as you still were with them the ride had calmed you down, so you leant forward to place a kiss on Arthur’s cheek, before repeating the process with John and getting out of the car.

“I love you guys,” you said through the open car window, “even when you piss me off.” Your uncles laughed again as you walked to the drivers door where Tommy sat looking at you as you placed your hands around the edge of the completely open window.

“Head inside darling, we’ll talk more in the morning.” He placed one of his large hands over both of yours, giving them a tight squeeze before releasing them. You leant in and kissed him on the cheek, smiling at him before saying your goodnights and heading to the door.

You turned right when you were about to head inside, seeing the car was unmoving, as you thought it would be until you closed the door. You gave a small wave that was reciprocated by two, John instead raising his hands and blowing you a big kiss. You went in and sure enough heard the car engine start mere moments later.

Your conversation with them was far from over and you knew it wouldn’t be easy to get it through to them that you were officially an adult now. But at the end of the day you were still glad to have been born into that dysfunctional family.

Because you knew that you’d always have them at your side, no matter what.

#peak blinders x reader #peaky blinders reader insert #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders imagine #sister!Shelby #protective brother #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #request #non-stop august #too many baes #too many baes non-stop august #anon #no y/n #writing #mine

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taechaos · 3 years

Text

No More

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: dark romance, college au

synopsis: Perhaps love isn’t all you need to be with Jungkook. Maybe it's a sign you and him weren't meant to be.

warnings: fluff, daddy kink, public sex, degredation, mild angst

word count: 6.7k

a/n: dedicated to a good old gemini, known as pretzel anon. happy birthday! this was shit! 💞 can someone let me know if i made a stupid mistake i was really high while writing this lol

If every couple goes at their own pace, how does one know if the relationship is rushed or a slow burn? What is considered a date, and how many do you have to go on to stop calling it a date? Maybe there’s a book called Dating for Dummies.

Jungkook has taken you out once: a fast food meal on the curb across your campus. Romance is subjective, so you thought it to be very romantic when he fed you a french fry under the streetlights while you were too stuffed to finish your food. “I paid for it,” he’d said, “so you have to eat it all.”

“I’ll eat anything from your hand,” you’d replied bashfully. He got a bit awkward after that, and you regretted saying it until he began feeding you and even holding your drink to your mouth. It was a successful first date, but you wanted it to last longer; feel your heartbeat out of rhythm with every smile he threw at you until the sun came up. Unfortunately for you, he walked you to your dorm a little after dinner.

Luckily for you, you know that wasn’t your first and last date. You’re going to ask him out for the second one because it’s a beautiful day outside and you’ve studied all morning for your finals to clear up your schedule for Jungkook. A walk in the park sounds nice, then a picnic, maybe he’ll even hold your hand! Is it too soon for another date though? It’s only been less than a day…

You’re wearing your favorite outfit for the occasion: a pale blue floral dress that has a rectangular collar on the chest—without cleavage, God forbid—and sandal heels to match. You even styled your hair, and hopefully dressing to impress works; you don’t want him to say no. The current issue is finding Jungkook, and you don’t want to be that person, but you’re avoiding calling him in case you bust him with another girl by searching instead. It makes you guilty for having trust issues, but infidelity has its impacts.

Regardless of your internal concerns, you’re happily humming as you skip on the sidewalk, checking every corner for a certain someone. So far no such luck, and if he isn’t in his dorm, and if he doesn’t go off campus on Sundays, where could he be? In someone else’s dorm…?

“Stop,” you scold yourself with a roll of your eyes and continue your hunt. Next location: the back of the building. The front is cleared out, so is the dorm; what’s happening in the most secretive area? “God,” you sigh. Is this how your thinking process has always been? You hope it is.

The beat in your steps has gone missing when you’re rounding the exterior of the building because of your reluctance. You’re contemplating calling him until you see the back of a man with a girl in front of him by the benches, presumably kissing from the smacking noises. You clench your phone in your dress pocket as you watch them, hesitant to find out who the guy is.

“Jun–” Your voice goes quiet when you see the tattoo of a dragon on his shoulder, peeking out from his black loose tank top. It’s not Jungkook’s tattoo. You bite your lip and ignore the relief in your tight muscles; he’s dating you now, that’s what he said. It’s different, so there’s no point in worrying about his loyalty.

You shake your hands off and walk faster to the taboo spot. There’s no point in worrying, there isn’t, not when he told you he would make it up to you. There’s no reason for your heart to race from expecting the worst when you make the final turn.

A shaky breath leaves you and a small smile follows when you see him smoking with his friends by the back exit. There are four people with him, Taehyung included, who is sharing a cigarette with him. He notices you first because he’s facing you whereas Jungkook is facing the clear forest across. He waves you over with a wide grin, his eyes lighting up.

“I see a pretty girl at 9 o’clock,” Taehyung says and Jungkook turns his head, the rest following his lead. You take tiny strides while approaching them and bite down on a shy smile.

“Hi,” you greet in a small voice. Your eyes immediately lock with Jungkook’s, who looks baffled.

“Hey yourself,” Taehyung greets back. “Care to share?” He holds a burning cigarette out to you with a slight bow, as if offering you a rose.

“She doesn’t smoke,” Jungkook answers for you without looking away. Is he displeased?

“Have you ever tried it?” he persists before inhaling the stick and blowing it in your face. You cough and hold a fist to your mouth, shaking your head. Jungkook slaps the back of his head before taking the cigarette from him and putting it out on the wall he’s leaning against. “You owe me a whole pack now.”

“Care to introduce us?” a guy you don’t know asks curiously.

“Oh, right–”

Jungkook cuts him off before putting names onto the three strangers’ faces, Namjoon being the one who asked for the introduction, and when he comes to you, he says, “Meet… my girlfriend.”

“Thought you said she was a lousy nerd, Taehyung,” Yoongi comments before chugging from his flask. “Doesn’t look like it to me.” Taehyung chuckles uncomfortably before rubbing the nape of his neck as you tilt your head at him, the glint in your eyes never fading at Jungkook’s words.

“I didn’t get a close look at her before, didn’t know she was a real beauty,” he recovers with a flirt. Another slap on the back of his head.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Seokjin diverts the topic. He appears very nice and seems to be the only one not smoking. His friendly smile puts you at ease and you politely tell him, “The pleasure is all mine.” Good first impression on all of Jungkook’s friends: check.

Your boyfriend ignores the interaction and stares at you until you gaze at him as well. “What are you doing here?” You can’t read his expression.

“I wanted to ask you…” you play with your fingers nervously, “if you wanted to go to the park with me?”

Jungkook quirks a brow as Namjoon and Seokjin wiggle their brows, Taehyung frowns, and Yoongi smirks. Quite brave of you to ask him out in front of his smoker friends, and it’s impressive that you play into such a role of textbook love: only caring about what your crush thinks. When Jungkook peeks to see their reactions, more or less weighing their judgement, he’s satisfied when he realizes none of them give a flying fuck about him being with a girl next door; someone outside of his type of rather than a free escort, really.

He doesn’t care about what they think when he smiles down at you and says, “Let’s go.” You bounce on your heels when he swings his arm over your shoulder and walks away from the scene. The unsteady heartbeat is back for the same reason as last time, but you’re waiting to request something else.

The park near the university is peaceful with groups of friends hanging out; couples sitting on benches; the sun shining down on the trees and grass as you aim for the ice cream stand. You try to muster up the courage to ask him first, but you’re feeling courageous as you pull away from his arm and instead latch onto his hand and intertwine your fingers. You glance at him with a blush to see his reaction, but he doesn’t look at you and only squeezes your hand nonchalantly. His grip is tighter than yours. Maybe it’s from the heat, but his cheeks are tinted in a light pink shade.

You stumble on your heels when you stare at him for too long, but you recover from a fall last second. He holds onto you anyway, furrowing his brows at your shoes. “High heels? Are you trying to reach my height?”

“You like them,” you giggle and continue your struts more carefully. When he frowns, you worry, “Do I not look good in them?”

“Why would I like them if you can’t walk in them? You look pretty in flats too.”

After a whole afternoon of eating ice cream, blushing at anything nice Jungkook said, listening to his music while sitting under the sun, the evening has come. Throughout the day, you were dreading the end of it because every second with him is so enjoyable. The warmth of his hand when you play with his fingers is a feeling you never want to forget, and you didn’t notice the little smile on his face when you were lying on his chest as he watched you do the most endearing and innocent thing one could think of.

“So precious,” he’d thought. It makes the argument from yesterday feel all the more terrifying when he remembers how close he had gotten to losing this moment. It’s nothing he’s ever experienced or even seen before; plain jackpot.

You’re off the school grounds as you walk on the streets passing cafés with Jungkook, hands locked and feeling perfect. You wonder if he has ever done this with anyone before, but then he’s never been in a relationship. Who are the people that comment in his Instagram posts then? A question strikes you, and you admire his side profile as you ask, “You don’t like it when people call you– Ah!” Your balance wavers as you stumble again, this time falling on your knees after your ankle bends. With the pain tolerance of a baby’s, your eyes instantly water and you let go of his hand as you hold onto your ankle. It’s sprained.

“Shit, are you okay?” He crouches down and picks you up bridal style before sitting you down on a nearby chair. The café’s lights allow him to see the scrape on your knee and the bump on your ankle. “Hey, hey, don’t cry now,” he rubs your injury soothingly as he cringes at your tears. He doesn’t know how to comfort you as you whimper and sniffle.

“Damn these heels,” you cry quietly.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise at your wording. “This is my second time hearing you swear. Swearing apparently helps with pain though. Say ‘fuck’.”

A chuckle leaves your mouth, but you decide to try it anyway; the throbbing muscle hurts too much. “F-Fuck.”

“Fuck these heels,” he encourages.

“Fuck these fucking heels,” you level. Maybe the theory is correct, because it feels slightly better when he laughs at your rare vulgarity. A minute passes with you trying to keep your tears at bay while he lightly massages your wound.

When he notices you calm down, he asks, “I don’t like it when people call me…?”

You sniffle and rub your eyes before saying a few seconds later, “Daddy.”

He blinks, stares at you, and his heart skips a beat. With your soft pout and red nose, you look so little to him. “... Yes?”

“Huh?”

“Oh,” he smoothly snaps out of his shock, “I don’t have that kink… Um, say it again?”

“Daddy?”

It sounds different hearing it from you. Without the drawn out whine or the eggplant emoji next to it, and with your voice, it actually sounds cute. “What does that word mean to you?” he shifts the conversation with a subtle blush.

“I don’t know. You call a fatherly figure daddy, right? A man who takes care of you. People say it during sex too. You’re being a daddy right now.”

“Stop,” he warns lowly, “we’re in public.” He stands up from his kneeling position and picks you up in his arms again. “Have you ever called anyone that?”

You clasp your hands behind his neck as he walks with ease, as if he isn’t carrying anyone in the first place. “No. My dad walked out on my mom when I was little, and I haven’t met anyone who treats me like you do.”

“Wait, you… think of me as your… daddy?” His eyes are wide and he’s gaping at the path in front of him with knitted brows. He looks so intimidating when you scrutinize his features, but you know he’s just flustered. You timidly nod against his shoulders. “Christ. Why?”

Your answer isn’t immediate because you don’t want to come off as too strong, but he’s impatient as he squeezes your waist. “I know you don’t want people to call you that,” you whisper understandingly, “but you’re so mean to others, and you hurt anyone who upsets you.” He rolls his tongue around his cheek uncomfortably. “Whether it be with words or actions. But you’re so sweet to me… You can be really rude, but you care a lot too. You don’t even smoke around me,” you laugh lightheartedly.

“I mean, you are a baby. You make it difficult to not treat you like one,” he jokes with a hint of truth. You snuggle into his neck with a lopsided grin and your breath fans his tan skin. “I don’t like being an asshole to you, but I’m not exactly a nice person either.”

“You’re carrying me to my dorm,” you point out as a counter.

“I’m only nice to you; somewhat. And… I don’t like being called daddy by horny women, or men for that matter. I’ve never liked it, so I’m not exactly sure why I’m hard right now.” You tense against him. “Something about your sweet, innocent voice calling me daddy is really fucking hot.” He sighs to collect his thoughts; he can’t wait until he’s in your room. It would just be torture. “Did you get on birth control, baby?” He keeps his volume low in case of someone eavesdropping.

“Yes,” you mumble and grow nervous at what he’s thinking.

“Good girl,” he exhales and swiftly enters an empty alley between two restaurants. “Quite the slut too, telling me all this in a crowd.”

“I’m sorry,” you breathe as he presses you against the wall and has you wrapping your legs around his waist. He’s so thoughtful, carrying you even when he’s shaming you so you don’t put pressure on your injured foot. The shadows casting from the walls in the narrow space limits your vision, but you don’t need to see anything when he’s doing all the work by rendering you immobile from the press of his hips.

“Good choice with the dress,” he says while pulling out his belt and releasing the buckle. You hold onto him tightly without the security of his hands. He pushes his jeans down and has you towering over him by adjusting your position from the back of your thighs. Your breathing is quick and shallow from the anxious anticipation of the raw stretch, but he’s so nice to you today: he shoves your panties to the side and rubs your folds to collect your arousal as lube. He’s being thoughtful by relaxing your walls with his fingers first, and you bite down on a moan at the sensation. He’s still taking care of you by silencing you with a bruising kiss.

“Thank you,” you sigh against his lips. His two knuckles are deep inside you as they curl and scissor. As nice as he is, he’s also very impatient and it’s not long before you feel his tip lightly poking at your entrance.

“Ideal for a quick fuck.” He flashes a dazzling smile before it falters in order to concentrate on positioning himself. He closes his eyes and bites his lip as he slowly enters you, a lot more gentle considering the setting and knowing how vocal you get. A hum rumbles in his throat as you gasp when he’s halfway inside. When he bottoms out, he waits a few seconds for you to adjust before his rough nature returns. “You gonna stay quiet for me, little girl?”

“I’ll try.” Your heart is pounding in your chest when he leans in your ear, his breath tickling your neck.

“You know that’s not what I wanna hear,” he whispers. He isn’t going to fuck you until you say what he wants, and your diffidence doesn’t make an appearance when his fingers are digging so hard into your thighs, his breath is hot on your skin, and he’s completely nestled inside you.

You lean into his ear as well, and meekly say, “I’ll try my best, daddy.” You can feel him shiver under your hands and hear him grunt, “God,” before he starts moving. Fast. You’d think he’s in a rush from how his pace picked up so quickly—roughly—but he may have just discovered his new kink.

There’s no point in being quiet when the slam of his cock is enough noise deep in the alley, and he realizes that before you do. You’re bouncing in his arms, mouth open in a silent scream with only huffs leaving to not expose your doings, until he growls, “Say it again. Again and again.”

The chilly breeze from the night weather doesn’t affect you when he has you flush against him, and heat creeps all over your body not only from his hard and impatient thrusts but also from his words. “Daddy,” you whine, the same drawn out whine that he used to hate hearing; it makes his abs contract and clench now, a groan catching in his throat. He sounds almost animalistic, and your eyes screw back in pleasure.

“Quiet, you fucking slut,” he reminds with a following moan.

“I-I’m sorry, daddy,” you whisper in a strained voice. You can’t keep your vocal cords steady when he’s knocking the breath out of you every time he hits your cervix so deliciously. Jungkook’s a total paradox when he’s being so aggressive yet sweet at the same time, but it feels too good for you to complain. Your head is in the clouds when he bites on your shoulder to practice what he preaches: being quiet.

“Do you love me?” Maybe that’s not the way you should go on about asking to hear his sweet nothings, because he bites you so hard that you feel his teeth break your skin.

“The fuck kind of question is that?” he snarls. He licks a drop of your blood off of his lips when he faces you, but the bruising pistoning of his cock doesn’t differ; maybe slams into you even harder. “Hm? Answer me, dumb little slut.” He pinches your thigh cruelly, emitting a pained gasp from you.

“I just want to hear you say it, please daddy,” you mewl. “I love you so much.”

“Keep fucking begging.”

You initially thought Jungkook became more honest and affectionate when you’re being intimate, but it seems that one word brings out a different side to him: wild and sadistic. Perhaps there are two sides of him being a daddy, one not so much of a fatherly figure. Controlling, dominating, and violent. You’ve received too many bruises in one night.

“Please, please, please, pretty please,” you comply in a cry and hug him tighter.

“Missing something,” he tuts with a breathless laugh. “I love you, stupid girl, more than anything.” He stops ramming into you, and the drag of his throbbing length loses its pace but not its strength. “So, so fucking much,” he strains before slamming into you one last time for his release. With him stuck brushing against your sensitive spot and his shaky moan, your lashes flutter and you clench down on him with the intoxicating wave of your orgasm coursing through your trembling figure. You whimper his name as his cum fills you, the warmth coating your walls while you lose your sense of awareness.

“Stand on one leg,” he breathes. You know he’s referring to your safe foot, so you disentangle your legs from his waist and stand. The only sound aside from the drown out dialogues from the restaurants nearby is your panting. Though he’s just as drained of energy as you are, he adjusts your dress and underwear for you, even fixing your hair before he pulls up his pants and lifts you. “Don’t call me that around others by the way– especially Taehyung.”

“I promise,” you assure with a chuckle.

The next day, a dreadful Monday, is not so bad when you get to link with your boyfriend and other friends by your usual spot on the benches. You don’t have a lot of lectures throughout the day, and you sit next to Jungkook who’s chatting with Taehyung and Yoongi after your long morning lecture in the afternoon. You peck his cheek as a greeting with a lovesick grin, and the former annoyed look on his face vanishes when he sees you. Soyeon and Minnie are close by, and thankfully there’s no tension between anyone. You’re forgiving, but you aren’t going to forget.

“So you two are actually back together, huh?” Taehyung says with a mocking smile. “What goes around comes around, Kookie.”

“Taehyung, you’re not making this any easier on yourself,” Yoongi murmurs.

Jungkook scoffs and rolls his tongue around his cheek—an irritated habit. “Well then Tae, I’m going to be polite and ask you to not be a homewrecker.”

“I have been hanging around Soyeon too much lately…” he jokes with a tilt of his head.

“Don’t turn this on me,” she says with a quirked brow, tone as soft as Jungkook remembers. You sit back and sigh at their bickering. “I didn’t know his name, you have no excuse to be flirting with her.”

“He isn’t–” You can’t get a word in when Jungkook agrees, “She’s fucking right, you know. Stop tailing around me to get a look up at her skirt.”

“I am not–"

“Oh for God’s sake,” Yoongi sighs like you do. Both of you share a guilty look, apologizing on each other’s behalf. It’s only when you start tracing the tattoos on Jungkook’s arm that he finally looks at you.

“You like it?” he asks, a bit smugly. You nod with a tiny smile. His tongue darts out to lick his lips before he pecks yours, and says, “I’ll add your name to the collection. Thinking of inking my knuckles.”

A blush from his kiss, and a bashful smile from his idea graces your face when you cutely pout, “No…” He laughs at your very obviously fake denial and closes in on you, teasing in a whisper, “Yeah? You like that?”

“Look at you two being so adorable,” Taehyung interrupts with a dreamy sigh, “but I want ice cream.” He holds his hands up by his elbows on the oak table and leans his face on them with fluttering eyelashes. “Kookie? Ice cweam? Pwease?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jungkook winces at the disgustingly cutesy face he makes, and you release a humoured breath at the friendlier banter. “Go buy it yourself, moron.”

“I don’t have money and I want her tea on how you two made up,” he flutters his lashes again with his fingers intertwined; begging so silly. “Pretty please.”

“Now I’m definitely not going to leave you alone with her.”

“Baby,” you interject, and his eyes widen at the nickname. “I want ice cream too.”

He flashes a quick glare at Taehyung, easily giving into your needs with a sigh. “You’re paying, fuckface.” He snatches his wallet the moment it’s out of his pocket and walks off while spinning it between his fingertips.

“He stole my fucking wallet,” he frowns without offence. “Oh well. So…” his eyes trail to you with a mischievous glint, “you never smoked before, right?”

You shake your head, a bit curious—albeit amused—as to where he’s going with this.

“You wanna know something? Jungkook reeeaaally likes smokers,” he stretches his hands for emphasis. It piques your interest, and you raise a brow. “I can teach you. We have to do it fast, before he comes from the store. Okay?”

“Um… okay,” you laugh as he switches seats from across you to Jungkook’s spot.

He takes out his pack where his lighter is also stuffed as he speaks, “So what I’m gonna do is teach you how to shotgun.”

“You can’t do that with a cigarette,” Yoongi states in boredom, a plain contrast to Taehyung’s hyperactivity. “Don’t listen to him. He’s lying to you.”

“Oh, shut the fuck– okay, sorry, didn’t mean to say that.” He turns to you with glimmering excitement, “It’ll be easier on you if we do it with a shotgun.” You merely shrug because you don’t even know what that means. He sticks a cigarette in his mouth before holding up a hand to his lighter, inhaling until the tip burns. Smoke flies past his lips as he explains, “You inhale from the filter, but don’t inhale too much. You’re going to cough, maybe feel a little lightheaded since it’s your first time, but try to hold it in, okay?”

Taehyung peeks behind Yoongi before shifting his attention to you. He takes another drag from the cigarette but doesn’t exhale. “Okay,” you say with a nod, sharing his excitement at a new experience that Jungkook could potentially approve of. You can rely on Taehyung’s honesty, though the bad memory from before leaves a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you’re ready to create better memories with him. He flips the stick until the filter is between your lips.

He wraps his lips around the tip and your eyebrows shoot up at the proximity. He holds your face between his large palms, and the cigarette is hidden behind his hands. He leans closer and nods at you, and you take the cue to inhale. You hear Yoongi blow out a deep breath just as you take in a shallow one. The urge to cough strikes you instantly, and you hold it in the best you can; your cheeks puff out as you slightly wheeze, and smoke leaves from both your mouth and nose. That’s when Taehyung pulls back, the intense eye contact gone, and you hear Yoongi scoff and the heavy footsteps of someone else. You cough into your hand when Taehyung slips it out of your mouth and holds it under the table.

“What the fuck?” Jungkook asks incredulously and throws three wrapped popsicles on the bench. You feel slightly dizzy when your small coughing fit ends, and you grow confused as to why your boyfriend is glaring at you with such intensity as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and Taehyung.

“Had to take you up on the homewrecker offer–” Taehyung’s sentence is cut off when Jungkook pulls him up by his collar, hesitates with his fist flying midway, then forcefully pushes him onto the pavement instead. He’s also confused– frantic, and doesn’t know what to do.

You’re semi-conscious of what he’s doing, but consuming nicotine for the first time leaves you feeling quite strange. You feel like you’ll stumble if you try to stand up, and slur if you speak, so you just wait it out.

“What– Why are you just sitting there?” he asks you with violent gestures. “What the fuck?” He holds onto his head, and all of your friends are quiet as they watch him. They must have missed you smoking for the first time. Yoongi waits for him to stop pacing.

“It’s not what you think, Jungkook,” Yoongi calmly tells him. What is he thinking though? “I know it looked–”

“The fuck it did! Right fucking in front of me? How the fuck are you so calm?” he yells.

“Hm?” you say. He watches you in astonishment: bottom lip jutting out and brows scrunched. If he didn’t see you shamelessly kissing Taehyung out in the open, he would be doubting his own vision because of how unbothered you seem. It bewilders him; why aren’t you reacting at all?

“They weren’t–”

“It took almost one fucking week of dating for you to resort to this?” Taehyung is still on the ground as he sends you a warning glance, Yoongi is unbothered by the ordeal because he’s constantly interrupted, and Jungkook is fuming at you while you just sit there.

“I was just curious,” you relate to the cigarette that is still lit beneath the grass next to Taehyung.

An astounded laugh is his only response as Taehyung smiles at you, but you’re only looking at Jungkook. “And here I thought, like a fucking idiot, that you were the only girl unlike my mother. And you,” he looks at his old friend with menace, “show your face around me, and I won’t hold back again. God, I need to kill someone,” he sighs before storming off. So he doesn’t like cigarettes?

When the fog in your mind begins to clear up, you stand to go after him just as Taehyung blocks your path. “I need to tell him I won’t smoke again,” you try to push him aside, but he doesn’t budge.

He laughs. “It’s not about that. He thinks you and I kissed because I made it look like it.” Just as you’re about to confront him, he clarifies, “Listen, I just want his reaction on this, okay? Don’t you want him to feel how you felt when he kissed your friend?”

“I’m over that.”

“Are you though?” No, you aren’t. “Aren’t you paranoid? All nervous when he’s around other girls? Or even when he’s just not around you?” Your silence prompts him to continue, “You’ll truly forgive him if you take revenge. You know he won’t do it again if he feels the same way you felt.”

“But that’s cruel…” you try to reason.

“And what he did wasn’t?”

Like the little devil on your shoulder, he enters your mind and reads it for his own agenda. What is his intention? Do what he couldn’t do with his ex? Is he… helping you? What he did was bad, so why aren’t you calling him out for it?

“What do I do?” you dodge his question. He knows the answer anyway.

He smiles with satisfaction. “Let’s talk it over a few cigarettes, hm?”

Back to square one– no, square zero. At square one, you could at least interact with Jungkook, do his homework and have him kiss you when he was satisfied; you don’t have anything to do with him now. Taehyung warned you of this, told you Jungkook would start seeing other people and avoid you unless he wanted to hurt you. How he knows him so well is beyond you, because that’s exactly what happens in the next four days.

You watch him from afar like before, see that scowl on his face that you haven’t seen in a long time after you met. Only two aspects have changed: the eye contact and Taehyung’s lack of presence around him. Jungkook’s eyes are always on you, filled with so much disdain and hatred, even when he’s kissing another girl. Smoking stops you from crying because of how dizzy you get, and Taehyung is always with you – waiting. Both of you are waiting for Jungkook to do something, and it’s a surprise Taehyung still hasn’t been beaten to a pulp for just talking to you.

Maybe it’s a sign that you and him weren’t meant to be. In the span of a short while when you were together, only problems have surfaced. So much misery and anger in a relationship isn’t normal; it’s toxic. But you wait anyway.

“Look at him glaring at you with a girl on his lap,” Taehyung chuckles before lighting up his cigarette. He’s leaning on the wall next to the campus entrance with you.

“Nothing new,” you croak and take a drag from yours, coughing again. It’s déjà vu, if anything. One has to learn from their mistakes to reach success, right? This situation is just one of them for the better of your relationship. Has to be.

“Worldstar,” he sings with a laugh. “I kind of miss hanging out with him, though; and the rest of my friends.”

“Yeah.” You can’t exactly pay your utmost attention to his words when you’re having a staring contest with Jungkook, who is practically devouring the unidentified girl’s mouth. It doesn’t sting as much as long as he has his eyes on you because you know what it means now: he’s trying to make you jealous. You didn’t know that before, but you didn’t know Jungkook as well as you do now before either.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“You somehow always do.”

Your reply humors him. “You want to go up to him, tell him what I did. But you know I’ll stop you.” His eyes squint as his cheeks hollow to inhale the nicotine. It’s a Marlboro Red, not exactly fit for a starter like yourself. You hate that you can’t even stand without using the wall as a leverage, but the effect is a necessary distraction.

“Why are you… so invested in this?”

He shrugs. “It may not seem like it, but it’s going to help strengthen your bond. It also gives you enough time to stop liking him and fall for me instead, but that’s just a plus.”

“What?” you slur. The cigarette is hanging on for dear life between your fingertips because of how weak you feel.

“We should kiss– for real this time,” he blurts. “He’ll talk to you sooner. God, I really want to kiss you.” He drops his stick before grabbing your face and softly crashing his lips against yours. You don’t close your eyes, you don’t really do much of anything while he does what he wants. It goes on for twenty seconds before he slowly pulls back. “He’ll talk to you tonight,” he exhales. “You’re welcome.” He pecks you again.

You finally close your eyes and your head hangs limply. “You’re the real problem,” you murmur, “you keep tearing us apart. The villain.”

“That kiss was on me,” he admits, “but I’m just making you face reality. Sometimes you have to be the bad guy, right? Only reason I can smoke with you is because Jungkook cares a fuckton about me. I’ll make it up to you as well, when your relationship isn’t a fucking lie.”

Couples go at their own pace, don’t they? Maybe this is how long it’s supposed to take for you to be one with your betrayed boyfriend. This is the real beginning; Taehyung is just the catalyst.

You see it when Taehyung is gone and Jungkook isn’t kissing back anymore. He isn’t even glaring. He’s just blank.

Perhaps love isn’t all you need to be with Jungkook.

It’s late in the evening and the nicotine still hasn’t worn off. You haven’t moved an inch from your spot and neither has Jungkook from a distance, still on the same curb across. The girl left when she didn’t receive any responses from him for a minute straight. An emotionless “fuck off” was enough for her to angrily storm off.

You have no idea where Taehyung went and you’re sitting on the ground with your knees to your chest and hands on your sides. Jungkook is staring at you from the bench. You just need to wait because he’s going to approach you like his friend told you.

People aren’t in the yard so it’s mostly empty in the open space. The lights from the streets and inside the building you have your back against don’t allow you to see your boyfriend clearly enough. He doesn’t have an issue with making out your features though. That kicked puppy expression on your face is drawing him, but he hasn’t been cruel enough.

It’s been difficult treating you like shit, so he doesn’t bother. It’s pathetic anyway, more pathetic than having smeared lip gloss on his mouth that he hasn’t wiped off. He knows he shouldn’t be so immature – he’s twenty years old. He’s old enough to be able to communicate, but no one’s been making it easy for him.

He has to decide whether he wants to be with you or just end it all before he feels any worse.

As the saying goes, no pain – no gain.

Jungkook slides down the wall and sits next to you after trudging in your way. It’s silent at first, and he doesn’t return your gaze when you look at him. You wait, and so does he. But he’s more impatient than you are; more hurt.

“What did you see in him, for God’s sake?” His voice is tired; words merely a sigh. You stay patient. “I mean, right after I opened up to you? Why?”

“I was paranoid,” you croak quietly, as if you’re about to faint, “terrified of you being with someone else. Maybe if you felt what I felt…”

He lightly shakes his head. “No, you didn’t think of that on your own. You didn’t kiss him either.” You lean your head on his shoulder. “You didn’t want to smoke, didn’t want any of this to happen. What are you doing, my love?”

You sigh. “I didn’t do anything. I don’t do anything.” The issue is that you let yourself be manipulated and molded into anything Jungkook likes, but he’s never told you what he likes. “All I know is loving you. That’s it,” you shrug tiredly, “that’s all I do. Everything I do, I do for you.”

“I’ll ask you for one thing– okay, two. Scrub your fucking lips and never talk to that piece of shit again. I’m not friends with good people,” he turns to you, “I don’t want you around them. I’m stuck in a constant cycle of toxicity and you’re the only good fucking thing in my life right now. I don’t want you to smoke or talk with my friends.”

“Then why do you?”

He stammers, “I-I’m used to it, I don’t fucking know. I know how to protect myself, but you’re too… untainted for them. Look at us, we don’t even fucking dress similarly. You and I have nothing in common.” He huffs to himself and looks up to the sky. “If you know what’s good for you–”

“You are good for me,” you interject.

“Don’t fucking lie to yourself,” he scoffs at you, “I’m anything but good for you. Do I give a fuck though? No. I’m selfish, and I don’t want to lose you. But if you–”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

Another moment of silence passes. He’s the one to break it again. “I don’t want to have an issue like this ever again. No more infidelity, or whatever the fuck, no more silence. Communication, right?”

“Right. And no more getting involved with your social life.”

“Thank you,” he bows his head and licks his lips with a sigh. “I can’t deal with this again. I don’t want to leave like my dad, whore around like my mom; I just want to have normal fucking relationship problems.” His anxiety translates to his body language: nibbling, knee bouncing, cracking knuckles. He doesn’t like to talk about his family, friends or even you. You’re calmer in comparison. “Tell me… we’ll start over.”

“I’m not resetting my love for you,” you playfully nudge him.

The corner of his mouth curls. “Not like that. Let’s go back to you doing my homework.”

“Really?”

“I missed a fucking assignment today, okay?” he laughs. “I want to forget about all of this sad shit, you ever meeting my friends, Sooyen or whatever, all of it. Just you and me, okay?”

“Set our own pace,” you add with a nod. “No one interfering with our… bullshit.”

“Don’t fucking swear,” he puts a hand over your mouth and pushes your face with a wide grin. You giggle with him.

Now that Taehyung and Soyeon’s over, there’s nothing left to chance with the involvement of someone else. Trust blooms instead, and it’s not so bad when Jungkook shares a cigarette with you as you take tiny puffs per his instruction. You are safe with him; not dizzy, lightheaded, manipulated, nothing.

You’re happy, and so is he. Maybe that was the intention, but it means nothing. Taehyung sought vengeance through your relationship, and that’s that. No one can hold Jungkook against you when he’s in the palm of your hands, ready to tell you more than anyone else can offer.

Jungkook’s love and trust: check.

When he flicks off the ash of his cigarette, you snuggle into him and whisper, “I love you daddy.” His ring glimmers under the moonlight as he pets your hair.

“Love you more, babygirl.”

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts x reader #jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #jjk smut #bts fic #jungkook fic #networkbangtan #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts

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miraculouscontent · 4 years

Note

I know that you said that it was an one shot, but I really love the idea of marinette stay in Paris with Luka and kagami and avoid all the NY drama! If you can, can you share more of it? Even if just a few little ideas it would be great! (I love your ideas!)

(the one-shot this anon is referring to)

Aw, thank you so much!

And sure, after some thought, I did really want to write a little more with them!

—————

While throwing away their now juice-less cups, Marinette made the realization of how different things seemed with Luka and Kagami. She had already experienced hanging out with both of them separately, but she'd never imagined having both of them with her at once. It wasn't as if she'd always dismissed or despised the idea, but the only time they'd interacted as a group had been with Adrien around, which had probably soured the whole thing and thus involuntarily caused her to never think about it.

With her friends, everything was typically high-energy. Juleka and Mylene weren't very involved in creating such an atmosphere, but Marinette herself, Rose, Alya, and kept things energized. It wasn't a bad thing in general, but it made Marinette wonder if maybe surrounding herself with people who only encouraged her excitable habits wasn't a good thing.

Meanwhile, Luka and Kagami were completely different, both from her and her friends. Neither were particularly loud - though both could be when they wanted to - and they weren't really the kind to tease or mess with her either. Luka wasn't quiet in the way Juleka was, just seeming to absorb the world around him, whereas Kagami only spoke when she felt that there was something of value to say. Marinette had worried briefly that she might've been too different from the both of them, or that she'd overwhelm them due to speaking up the most, but instead, there was a sense of balance. Luka smiled or chuckled reassuringly whenever she caught herself rambling, whereas Kagami would cut in with her own views that were often direct but nevertheless good in their intentions. Perhaps her personality rubbed off on them in a way she couldn't fully understand?

Still, it was nice.

As the three were deciding what to do next, Marinette's phone suddenly went off. Marinette looked at her purse and pulled out her phone, half-expecting a text from one of her classmates about her missing the bus, but it was actually a notification about where Andre the ice cream man was.

Kagami glanced over after noticing the look on Marinette's face. "You want to get ice cream?"

Marinette frowned, Kagami's voice reminding her of the day the two of them had gone for ice cream with Adrien. She still remembered talking to Andre, hoping beyond hope that maybe the man wouldn't make them pick between the three different flavors. His words still stung a little, not because of Adrien, but because of what the words meant.

"Too many flavors mixed together may throw off the delicate balance."

It implied that one of them would always be the third wheel if they were together, no matter what, and it was a hollow feeling that she'd only recently started to accept.

"Marinette?"

Feeling a comforting hand on her shoulder, she looked over and noted Luka offering her a concerned expression. It grounded her, serving as a reminders that things were different now and that Adrien wasn't there which, in a strange way, brought her an immense sense of comfort.

"I'm fine," she assured. Turning her attention back to her phone, she deleted the notification and then made sure that she wouldn't be getting another one. "Ice cream sounds good, if you want it too, but... I think I've got a better idea than Andre's."

Luka and Kagami exchanged curious glances.

—————

"Here's to Neapolitan ice cream!" Marinette declared dramatically, raising her spoon up with flair before shoving it and the ice cream on it right into her mouth.

Luka snorted in amusement while Kagami gave an acknowledging nod, probably remembering the exact phrase from Andre that Marinette had recalled earlier.

They'd picked up the carton of ice cream on the way to Marinette's place, with Marinette insisting on paying in order to spoil them, and while they seemed confused on the specifics of her insistence, they gave in soon enough. Marinette could understand why she'd be the expected person to be comforted, but giving to others made her happy on its own and she felt they deserved it. After all, Luka had tried his hardest to catch up to the bus and Kagami was still dealing with Adrien wanting to leave for New York despite her being in Paris.

They'd ultimately decided on splitting the entire carton between the three of them, with each of them getting a majority of the one of the flavors and then the rest of that flavor going to the other two. Marinette had gone with chocolate, Kagami had gone with vanilla, and Luka had gone with strawberry. It might've seemed like a weird choice to go with since they'd just had orange juice, but it hadn't been much and it wasn't exactly a "treat."

Marinette may have considered suggesting ice skating instead if her first thought of it wasn't her slipping and bringing Luka and Kagami down to the ice with her. Ice cream was the safer alternative to "cold fun."

"Luka," she called thoughtfully, taking another bite before asking, "you're not feeling sore or anything, are you?"

He met her gaze, smiling at the concern but waving his hand dismissively. "I'm alright, Marinette. I'm used to biking around for hours because of my job, so it wasn't a big deal."

Kagami halted, spoon halfway in her mouth while her brows rose noticeably. She finished the scoop, then turned to look at Luka. "You have a job?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I deliver pizza." He grinned, clearly amused by her reaction. "Are you surprised?"

Kagami's expression didn't shift, but Marinette had known her long enough to see that she was embarrassed. "Oh, no. It's... I don't have one."

"There's nothing wrong with that." Luka shrugged. "I just have the time to do it."

"Mm." Kagami looked back at her ice cream, poking at the surface with her spoon. "I suppose it would be too difficult with my fencing lessons."

Marinette giggled sheepishly, happy to join in on the conversation. "I probably wouldn't be able to either. There's all my fashion work with my website, and then there's the unexpected babysitting, the bakery, and I'm also the class representative." She hurriedly added an, "I know it doesn't sound like much, but I'm bad at planning," when she felt that it seemed like such little things. She was Ladybug and the new guardian too, of course, but she couldn't be blurting that out, so she could only hope that it didn't seem like she was whining over nothing.

She averted her gaze, scooping up a self-conscious bite of her ice cream and shoving it into her mouth. She was partway through savoring it when she realized that neither Luka nor Kagami had responded to her. Daring a look back, she saw them staring at her with varying gazes.

Kagami seemed stunned, commenting, "That is... well, much, actually," referring to what Marinette had just tried to brush off.

Was it? Marinette had never really thought about it. In fact, she distinctly remembered back in the day where people might've thought she was just scatterbrained and didn't really do anything. Back when she was hesitant to be class representative and claimed that she was busy, Alya had asked her with a hint of snark what she was busy with, like she expected her to have a free schedule.

Even beyond her role of Ladybug at the time, she still had random babysitting to do and still frequently worked on her fashion projects. Thinking back, it stung just a little.

As Marinette glanced at Luka, she at first felt that the amount of sympathy he was directing at her was excessive, but then she remembered how she had cried in front of him to the point where he'd dropped his bike and guitar in order to comfort her. She blushed, both in shame and from the memory of him holding her so closely.

"Ah—well—it's okay!" she said hurriedly, "Anyway, forget about me! This day is about... um, this ice cream, and ice cream doesn't have problems that you should worry about!"

She nearly gave herself brainfreeze from how quickly she scooped up and ate the next bite, but figured it'd be worth it if they dropped the subject.

It wasn't worth it.

"You should be more careful," Kagami commented critically, an edge to her voice that Marinette knew wasn't meant to be anger at her. "You're my friend, so don't overwork yourself."

Marinette grinned nervously, still trying to lighten the mood. "A-are you saying it'd be alright to overwork myself if I wasn't your friend?"

Kagami's gaze didn't waver, and Marinette slowly tried to sink into her seat.

Luka set his spoon down on the bowl, then chimed in, "I don't know anything about fashion, Marinette, but if you ever need any help with anything—"

Kagami clicked her own spoon against her bowl to interrupt him, as if she felt personally slighted that he'd gotten to say it first. "We're here for you."

Luka nodded to confirm.

"Oh." Marinette blushed deeper, touched by the gesture from both of them. She thought about trying to reassure them again, but their gazes were firm and showed no room for argument, so she settled for a soft, "Thanks."

They resumed eating their ice cream from there, the topic officially concluded. Though the atmosphere felt noticeably different, Marinette was surprised to realize that it wasn't exactly in a bad way. She feared that she'd ruined the mood, but instead felt like she was supported, with Kagami and Luka looking satisfied with their choice in offering help to her.

It was like she was Ladybug, and they were the partners standing at her side, each with their own form of support. It made her smile, allowing her to happily eat away at her ice cream without thinking about anything stressful.

The idea of going to New York was suddenly very unappetizing in comparison to having ice cream with Luka and Kagami.

—————

All things considered, Ladybug wasn't concerned about telling Chat Noir that her plans had changed and she wasn't going anywhere after all. She imagined that Chat would be overjoyed and wouldn't even ask questions about it, just happy to have her back. She found his affection eyeroll-worthy, but he was still her teammate, so she just steeled herself up for whatever ramble he was about to give her.

However, as she waited near the top of the Eiffel Tower, sitting on the guardrail and looking around for Chat Noir, she realized that she couldn't even see him. Checking the time on her yoyo, she confirmed that it was indeed time for their usual patrol, but Chat Noir was completely absent. Even though it was nighttime, which made the black cat's suit blend in with the sky, he still had the blond hair and light skin that should've made him noticeable.

Ladybug got up and paced around the area a few times, constantly peeking down at the city as she wondered if maybe she just wasn't looking in the right spot. When she still saw nothing, she concluded that Chat Noir must just be running late and she'd simply have to wait a little longer. Things happened, after all, she knew that better than anyone, so she began idling on her yoyo, searching for something to keep her occupied while she waited.

They were a team. While their identities had to remain a secret, Chat Noir had always hated it and prioritized openness in their relationship, so he would've told her if something had come up. He was also active in going on patrols, always seeming eager to join her for their runs across the rooftops, and given that he didn't even know that she'd still be in Paris, patrols were even more crucial.

He never showed up.

#MC's Writing #writing: story #Lukagaminette #relationship: Kagami Tsurugi & Luka Couffaine & Marinette Dupain Cheng #other: ask and answer #category: long post #word count: over 2000 #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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spideyspeaches · 4 years

Text

Heart made of glass ↬ t.h

A/N: Beta read by the lovely @hollandcrush !! <3<3

Request (Summary): can you please write one about Tom, who is on the filming process of cherry and has some emotional problems because he feels that his character is already part of his life, so he comes home very angry and in a bad mood, so he just snaps and creates a big fight with the reader and just says things that he obviously didn't meant, you know very angst, and at the end just very fluff.

Hope you like this anon! Lemme know your thoughts heh <3<3

Warnings: breakdowns, slight vomiting but it’s not graphic. I’m not in any way romanticizing or sexualising breakdowns.

WC: 2k+

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Masterlist || Taglist

Tom was an ambitious guy. He took his roles seriously, no matter what his character was and who he played. It was an admirable trait, the way he both enjoyed his work and worked hard to earn a high place in such a place as Hollywood.

You always took pride in how amazing and accomplished your boyfriend was, your heart swelling whenever you heard his name being mentioned in events and interviews. You enjoyed how he tried to diversify the movies he worked in.

("I've been playing the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man for so long, it's about time I play someone different now." He once said in a Jimmy Kimmel interview. You were watching from the audience, smiling as the audience roared in affirmation.

"Well looks like you took quite a big leap from playing a superhero." Jimmy said, smiling at the audience with his paparazzi smile.

You knew the question was scripted, quite harmless, but you still noticed how his shoulder stiffened, his smile not wavering once.

"Well yeah, I used to be a superhero and now I'm a heroin addict." He joked, winking at the audience as he ran a hand through his nearly hairless head.

He cried himself to sleep that night, burying his face in your chest as you shushed him. )

It always worked in his favour, with the incredible support his family and fan base provided. And he was always so humble about it.

Filming Cherry, however, was way different than he thought it would. With filming Cherry came consequences that he didn't necessarily like. He knew what he was bringing on himself and his family when he was first introduced with the script.

(Contrary to popular belief, he didn't actually give out spoilers, it was just small promotional stunts that kind of took over as his reputation to spoil minor details.)

The process was intense, getting into the mindset of "Cherry" was taxing, and people were beginning to notice it in him. He was more restless, tugging at his non existent curls when he thought no one would notice.

He was more clingy, more appreciative of your body and you, letting you know that there was no sexual intent behind his acts of caressing your waist at random times. You didn't notice the change in his behaviour.

He had always been like this, watching you with the most gratifying gaze a man could muster, his pretty brown eyes like globes of whiskey, staring at you with a muffled expression. You didn't notice.

There had always been a cutting edge to his voice, you knew and adored it. Behind the British actor who played Spider-Man, he was your Tom. Your Tom who gave you forehead kisses and baked cakes with you and made silly playlists that reminded him of you and you of him, your Tom who worshiped the ground you walked on, your Tom, your Tom and your Tom.

(Sometimes you envied that he was an actor, so good at hiding any emotions he felt, it came easy to him, just another fake emotion like he was a face behind the camera.)

He was never aggressive towards you. Never. Even on tough days, he was soft, caring and understanding to the point where it made you mad, immediately making you feel guilty. He worked so hard and yet here you were, blaming him for being nice, never standing up for himself.

"Uh, Tom, Tom stop, wait." You grunted, pushing his shoulders as he scrambled away from you at your discontent.

You held his face, his breath hitching, hyperventilating as he tried to get himself together.

Ever since he had started filming Cherry, he had been away from you. And now that you were finally here, he had been all over you, making love to every inch of your skin, like it was a holy grail he had to find, caressing your warm skin under his fingers making you shiver as his nimble fingers wandered. It was the intimacy, sexual and quasi-sexual, that made you realise, that there was something wrong.

Sex- it had been a constant in your life other than Tom. But of course, you didn't live on it. It was but a fuel that strengthened your relationship, it was about discovery and showing your vulnerable sides. It was a reminder of the coffee dates and baseball matches. It was loving, gentle and raw, like a gentle breeze caressing your face.

But this, this was different. And you noticed. This, what you had been doing, it was fucking. It was aggressive and needy and it felt good, but at the same time, it felt different.

"Baby?" You asked softly, trying to meet his eyes in the dark lit trailer. It was late, way past filming times, the only time you got to see his vulnerable side.

You should have been in his hotel room, but you were in his trailer instead. All alone in the all encompassing darkness, it made your heart stutter beats.

"Baby speak to me. What's happening, who's doing this to you?" You ask once again, holding onto him firmly this time, his squirming frame making you loosen your hold. You didn't care that you were naked, he had already seen it all.

Fiddling with the rough sheets, he huffed a heavy breath. And that was all it took for the dam to break.

"Tell me how do you feel baby, you're starting to scare me." You urged. All you got in response was his muffled sobs. Pulling him forward, you let his head rest on your bare chest, rivulets of tears sliding down your warm skin, almost burning you like acid, his tiny hair tickling you, a very contrasting feeling.

"I can't do it. I can't take it anymore." He sniffed, wrapping his strong arms around you, shivering at the contact. It was a cold night in Cleveland, and you were naked and he was crying. You were berating yourself for not noticing.

"What can't you take anymore?" You hold him, tracing circles on his buzz cut hair, just the way you did when he had his curls.

"I feel like I'm becoming him. I don't like it at all, I try and try but I can't." He sobs, shoulders hitching with each sob. You felt your heart break, the sounds of his cries sending daggers into your skin.

How could you have not noticed? The lively sunshine of a man was almost an empty shell. The interviews with former drug addicts had been excruciating for you, pity, disgust, sympathy and every other sinful emotion swirling in your mind.

You couldn't believe that you hadn't thought about Tom, of what an effect it would have on him.

"Bub, listen to me, carefully," you said, shushing him as he continued to look at you, teary eyed and red nosed, snot dripping out of his nose,"you listen to me. You're strong and resilient and nothing like him okay? He's not you. You're Tom Holland. You're brilliant and brave and amazing okay?"

"But I don't feel that way!" He said, his aggressive stance surprising you, "he's- he's…"

"He's what?" You asked, a little too impatient. Muttering a sorry, you rub your palm on his cheek, kissing the soft, moist skin.

"I don't feel so good." He croaked, getting up suddenly, making a run for the washroom. You rushed after him, watching him as he heaved into the toilet. Rubbing his back, you muttered affirmations, curling besides him as he sat on the ground, his back to the cold wall.

You got up to switch on the lights, feeling his hands tugging yours, a soft "stay" coming out of him.

"Better?" You asked, feeling him now against your collarbone.

"I shouldn't be this affected, this- this isn't fair. I'm overreacting, I'm sorry I worried you baby I swear I didn't mean to-"

"Shh, Tom first of all, you're not overreacting okay?" You smiled, kissing his nose, moving towards his brows and his forehead, "It's perfectly reasonable. The role you're playing...It's not exactly picking daisies. Fuck you're playing a heroin addict Tommy, a broken soldier with PTSD, a breakdown was inevitable. It only shows that you're human."

"Really?" He smiled, it looked more like a grimace, a plea for reassurance.

"Yes, really." You said, booping his nose, eliciting a giggle from him,"now, you better go to bed mister, you have an early shoot don't you?" You playfully scolded, kissing his lips, laughing as he carried you bridal style.

"Tomorrow will be better." You whispered, kissing his eyelids, already closed, chest moving rhythmically as you counted his pulse, making sure he was completely asleep before slipping on your clothes, covering him with the thin quilt.

***

"Is everything okay on set?" You asked casually, watching the crewmates work tirelessly in the daylight.

You were standing next to Ciara on a prop jeep, fiddling with the water bottle held in your hand.

"Hmm, as okay it can be with two people playing drug addicts." She shrugged, looking at you with a small smile.

"Are you okay?" You asked, turning to give her your full attention, remembering your boyfriend's breakdown yesterday.

"It gets… intense at times. Some scenes are hard to play, but we're okay. Mostly." She answered, taking your water bottle and chugging the water.

"I'm not a therapist, but you can talk to me, you know?" You smiled, holding her shoulder as she gave you a bashful smile.

"It's been tough on Tom. He's more aggressive, nearly had a breakdown during a scene." She said.

"Yeah, that.. that happened yesterday too."

"It was time, a person can only hold so much right?"

"Yeah."

You pondered her words, wondering if you could do anything to curb this.

"I think I need help." He said one day while you were eating dinner. Harry, who was sitting next to you, looked up from his plate, giving you a knowing look before clearing his throat.

"I'm gonna get some water." He said, waving awkwardly at you and getting up. You took that as a cue to scoot closer to Tom, running your hands through his camel hair.

"That's very brave of you hun, asking for help." You smiled, kissing his cheek softly. You felt him smile, sliding closer to you, holding you by your waist.

"I learnt from the best." He muttered in your hair, kissing your forehead.

You felt his love that day, felt the way he ran his smooth fingers on your waistline, sliding across your thighs with care and softness you hadn't felt in a while. He was healing. It was a process, it took time but it happened.

***

You were walking across the library, his hand in yours, your hearts beating in silence.

"How was your appointment?" You asked, shivering in the cold air. You rubbed your palms together, bringing your jacket closer to your chest, huffing the cold air.

"It was good, much different from what the media portrays. She even showed me this meme she thinks you would like, look." He said, bringing out his phone to show you the saved meme.

You laughed at his eagerness, kissing his lips as a final gratification.

"Well it looks like you're having a great time. You have another scene left to do today in the evening so we better scram." You reminded him.

You always did that, remind him of his schedule, reminded him to take a breath when he felt like he was drowning. You reminded him of home and what he had to look forward to.

"Why can't we have a lazy day today?" He whined, kissing your neck, making you giggle as it tickled.

"You know you can't do that hun, you already took three days off." You snickered, poking his sides.

"Well that sucks. I just want to spend my day with my girl, is that too much to ask?" He smiled, kissing your forehead, one hand holding yours, swinging back and forth, the other holding a large cup of coffee in a tight grip.

You reached to loosen his fingers, taking a sip, slurping loudly, making him laugh. You decided you liked this laugh much better, it was breathy and free, a melody to your ears.

You noticed how he was more relaxed and back to being that ray of sunshine. Back to being your Tom.

Thanks for reading! also as a side note- here’s a similar fic @itsallyscorner !!

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #spideygirl writes

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let-them-read-fics · 4 years

Text

Empress of the Heart (Pt. 1)

Requested By Anon: "Reader is an actress, and she meets Jennie at an event. They have a one night stand afterward, and months later they meet again." (It was a long request so I had to sum it up lol)

Pairing: Jennie x Fem!Actress!Reader

Word Count: ~ 9,351 😳 (Both parts combined)

Warnings / Misc. -- Smut / Suggestive Themes, Angst, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hello again! Guys, I'm actually really proud of this one. It gets better as it goes on. I hope you enjoy it (you'd better, because I stayed up until 8am writing again 🥴😂). I had to split this story into two parts to appease the Tumblr overlords, just so we’re clear.

♡ Happy reading ♡

Part 2

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Who's that?" Rosé asks, leaning in closer to the maknae as she points to a slightly recognizable face in the crowd.

"I dunno," Lisa shrugs, throwing a thumb over her shoulder, "ask Jisoo." The Australian does as she says, padding over to seek out an answer from their unnie.

"Y/N L/N, I believe. Her company is supposed to make a big announcement later." Jisoo informs, adding a nod to the end of her statement for certainty. Jennie stands beside them all, taking in the crowd of staff and business people hailing from all of the most powerful entertainment companies in Korea. The big dogs have all gathered here tonight to drop some major announcements for their upcoming projects and set up arrangements for future endeavors.

"What do you think it'll be?" Jennie asks, eyes still trained on you as you converse with a famous actress. Her breath catches in her throat when you throw your head back, eyes filling with tears of laughter at something the high class woman said. You're absolutely stunning.

"It could be anything, honestly. Her company's full of talent in every category."

"Yeah, their newest girl group broke a record for Youtube streams in the first hour after release. Still didn't beat ours, though," Lisa adds with a smug look, holding her head a little higher. She's only playing, of course -- she's one of the most humble people Jennie knows.

"She's really pretty," Jennie breathes out, speaking the words that have been rolling around in her mind since she laid eyes on you. The other girls adamantly agree, nodding their heads with purpose.

"Do you wanna go talk to her? YG would probably like that; maybe we can let Jisoo do a little schmoozing." Rosé smirks, playfully nudging the unnie. Jisoo rolls her eyes with an amused scoff, quickly swatting the blonde's hand away.

"I don't know, she seems pretty busy." Her words are unsure, weary -- her normal confidence is wavering a bit, now replaced with some type of nervousness that she can't quite explain. This isn't like her; why is she so anxious?

"Come on, it'll be fun." Lisa decides for them, leading the way with Jennie's hand clutched in her own; the brunette would surely slip away otherwise.

They approach you from an angle, caught right in your blind spot as you continue your small talk with a new business exec. The man sees the girls behind you, waiting for their turn, and after a few more moments he leaves you with an office number to reach him by.

"Good evening… Y/N, right?" Jisoo leads politely, smiling as you turn to face them. You look even more dazzling up close, and Jennie's posture stiffens. She's definitely seen you somewhere before.

"That's me," you say sweetly, greeting all of them and committing their names to memory.

"Jennie," she introduces, stretching a hand out to you. Your eyes flutter down to it before you grasp it within your own, the simple action appearing unbelievably cute to her.

"How're you doing tonight? I hear you've got some big news for us." Lisa wiggles her eyebrows, voice bouncy with anticipation.

You giggle, and Jennie thinks it may just be the sweetest thing she's ever heard. "It's a little hectic, if I'm honest, but I'm enjoying myself. What about you guys? And you'll just have to wait and see what we have in store for you." You end the sentence with a wink that just happened to be directed at Jennie, despite Lisa being the one to ask the question. She tries to fight the blush that soon rises to her cheeks.

"We're doing well, I'd say. It's actually kind of nice to get out of the dorm and meet some new people." Rosé says almost wistfully, her eyes sending a fleeting glance around the room at her statement.

"I know how that can feel. When I was first starting out I didn't get many opportunities for roles. But then I met my manager at the café I picked up a second job at, and the rest is history." You smile softly at the memory, recalling the events of that fateful day. You can't imagine where you'd be right now if things had played out differently.

"You're an actress?" Jisoo asks, sounding like she just put two-and-two together. You nod at her, noticing the way that Jennie looks at you in deep thought. You can practically see the wheels turning.

"So that's where I recognize you from. You guest starred in that JTBC miniseries earlier this year, didn't you?"

"Ding ding ding, we have a winner." You smile, bowing your head in praise. It warms your heart to see her face light up, knowing that she finally felt that rush of putting her finger on the elusive thoughts in her head. Pulling knowledge you previously believed forgotten from the foggy depths of your brain is a rewarding experience in itself, and you're pleased that she remembered you.

"I'm glad I made an impression during my short time on screen," you quirk, leaning in closer to her.

"With skills like yours? You're unmatched, Y/N." She flirts, finally finding her bearings again. Her confidence is returning now, slowly but surely, and she pats herself on the back for not hiding behind her hands when you send her a tempting smile.

"Ah, you're too kind--" you begin, only to be cut off by a tap on your shoulder. It's one of your co-stars.

"Good evening, ladies," he bows, "I'm sorry to break this up, but Y/N is needed by management."

Your shoulders sag at this, his words sinking in. You'd much rather spend the night tucked away with the girls, getting to know them better -- especially Jennie, who makes your heart speed up anytime she looks at you.

"I hate to go," they nod in agreement, sad to have to part ways. They really enjoyed speaking with you, and they'd be lying if they said they wanted to stop anytime soon.

"But maybe I'll catch you later?" The question sounds hopeful, albeit a bit unsure as you scrunch your face up. They affirm that they'd "like that very much," and your shoulders relax a bit. Maybe there's still some hope for you all.

◇◇◇◇◇ 2 Hours Later ◇◇◇◇◇

"Exactly! She shouldn't have forgiven him after that," you rant to Jisoo, talking about some characters from your favorite kdrama.

"Babo, I tell you." She says dramatically, rolling her eyes. The action garners a chuckle from you, and Jennie finds herself smiling as she follows along with the conversation. She must've made her staring too obvious, because a minute later your eyes meet hers from across the table. She blinks, surprise etched gracefully into her features, and she clears her throat. Both of you have been stealing glances at one another all night, and things have only ramped up since you snuck away from management to see them again. You assured them you wouldn't get in trouble, but that was honestly the last thing on your mind.

From her seat across from you, Jennie can see the curve of your body, your silhouette highlighted by the lights that shine on the wall behind you. They're dimmed somewhat to give a comfortable, soft glow to the room, and they contrast with the perfect curve of your face. She lets her eyes trail lower, admiring the expanse of your chest and how your fingers rest against the table, mindlessly playing with the expensive tablecloth.

What you do next makes her choke on the water she had so bravely dared to take a drink of.

You lean forward slightly, just enough for her to see your cleavage, while still appearing inconspicuous and innocent. The smirk you try to suppress tells her you know exactly what you're doing, and her cheeks grow hot.

"Excuse me," she mutters to the table, quickly standing and all but running outside for some fresh air. She wants -- needs -- to put some distance between the two of you if she plans to have any self control.

Cool air immediately greets her as she steps outside, hearing the sleek automatic door slide shut behind her. She can breathe now, and begin to soothe her racing mind. Despite only knowing you for the better part of 4 hours, she's already attracted to you. Way more than she cares to admit, as she presses her thighs together to put out the fire you started within her.

No more than 5 minutes later, the doors slide open once more.

"Everything alright?" You ask, tone dripping with amusement as you take in her flustered state. It's obvious that she's okay, just simply turned on.

"Never better," she mumbles, glancing up at you with a lopsided smile.

"You know, you ran out pretty fast back there. You sure know how to worry a girl." You fake a pout at her.

"Oh, you don't say?" She plays along, approaching you with what few shreds of confidence she has left. She tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, whispering into it, "Well, I'm all good."

"Wanna see for yourself?" She continues, drawing back slightly to take your hands within her own and wrap them around her waist. She smiles as they roam over her body, making sure to be thorough as you "check her out."

She groans when your hand grazes over a sweet spot on her thigh, causing you to pause and tut at her, "Tsk tsk, Jennie. It looks like I'll have to inspect this a little further." She gulps at your words, mind clouded once again by filthy thoughts of you.

"Let's get out of here," she suggests, taking your hand to lead you away. You chuckle at her eagerness, only capable of nodding as she basically drags you to her car.

◇◇◇◇◇

Despite feeling like two horny teenagers, you and Jennie actually opted to slow things down and get to know each other more. She's one of the most interesting people you've ever met, and you could listen to her talk for hours on end. The feeling is beyond mutual, and she doesn't mind that she has to wait a little longer to have you. The promise of what the night will hold for the two of you thrills her, and the anticipation only heightens her feelings.

Takeout containers lay abandoned in her car, long forgotten about as you sit next to each other on the hood. The chilly surface of the windshield presses against your back, making you all the more thankful for having had the foresight to wear a coat tonight. You make a mental note to thank your stylist for the suggestion.

Stars are beginning to twinkle in the distance, slowly coming out of their peaceful slumber to greet the evening sky. They bring to mind all the nights you spent in your backyard as a child, laid out on a warm blanket as you gazed up into space. Back when only trivial issues existed in your world, leaving you with an unscarred heart and unadulterated outlook on life. Those times were simple, only complicated by whatever drama was going on at school or what new person your friends liked. Back then you had no idea of what the future held for you -- what you'd end up doing with your life. If you had a chance to talk to your younger self, you'd tell her to enjoy those days as much as possible; to not take them for granted for even a second.

Everyday you're reminded that fame is truly a blessing and a curse -- you miss the days that you could roam the streets freely with whomever you wanted to, not having to worry about paparazzi or the media, but you're thankful for where you are now. You get to do what you love, everyday, and make money from it -- it's what everyone wishes for in life; and although you've worked your ass off to get here, you owe a lot of credit to the fans.

"It's so beautiful up here," Jennie says, voice stuck between a whisper and sigh as she lays her head on your shoulder.

"You see that building over there, with the orange lights and trees around it?" You ask, pointing in the direction of the building. Her eyes follow the invisible path your finger makes, and she spots it, nodding for you to continue.

"My mom used to work there; it's a daycare. I always loved helping out. The kids were so adorable." A bittersweet smile plays on your lips as you look down at your lap, clearly reminiscing. Jennie notices, brushing a strand of hair out of your face as she says, "I bet you miss it."

"I do," you sigh, clenching your jaw briefly, "those were the days. Seoul's home, but sometimes it feels so distant."

"I know how that feels." You don't miss the way her eyes cast down, a hint of sadness behind them, her fingers toying with yours on her thigh. Life in the spotlight isn't all it's cracked up to be, and neither of you are strangers to that all too familiar pang of longing.

"I'm happy to be here with you tonight, though," you try to turn the conversation cheery again, and Jennie's thankful for that. "I haven't had this much fun in a long time."

Your plan works, and soon she's pepping up. "Me neither. Being with you feels...different. In a good way." Your smile widens exponentially when she adds, "A very good way."

"Don't get too cheesy on me, now," you roll your eyes teasingly, wrapping both of your arms around her and pulling her flush up against your body. She lays her head on your chest, reveling in the scent of your perfume and the warmth radiating from you. Her hand comes to rest against your ribs, lightly rubbing patterns against them as the two of you continue star gazing. She can feel your heartbeat pick up when she slides her hand downwards, playing with the hem of your shirt innocently.

Does she have any idea what she's doing to you?

Yes, yes she does. After all, your body is basically selling you out at this point.

"Y/N?"

"Mmm?" You hum, eyes closed and head leaned back against the windshield. Her skin is soft against yours, and your shared warmth has put you at ease.

"Do you wanna go somewhere? I really don't want the night to be over yet." Your heart flutters at her words; the fact that a woman such as Jennie is so reluctant to leave you is baffling in itself.

"I'd love that, Jennie. What did you have in mind?"

For a moment, Jennie's mind takes it there. She allows herself to imagine what it would be like to feel your skin against hers, connection unrestricted by clothing; how your kisses would feel against her lips, her body; what beautiful sounds you would make as she pushed you closer and closer to the edge. She can't deny how attracted she is to you, nor does she want to; but she also doesn't want to ruin the innocent moments you're sharing. She doesn't want to taint them with the lustful ideas that flood her mind anytime you give her that look, or caress her thigh absentmindedly.

"How does the park sound?"

"With you? There's nowhere I'd rather be."

Despite her efforts, Jennie blushes at your statement, feeling that embarrassing warmth creep up the back of her neck. You've made her blush more in the span of one night than she previously had in her entire life, and that boosts your confidence tenfold.

"Who's being cheesy now, huh?" She asks, pinching your side playfully as she sits up. Her legs swing around until she's fully facing you, sitting criss-cross as the two of you smile at one another.

Neither of you move for a while, both content with just admiring each other's beauty. Her fingers lace with yours, and after a moment she brings your hand up to her lips to lay a kiss to it. The action -- more so, how soft her lips are against your skin -- catches you off guard, and your breathing hitches. All at once, you're acutely aware of how badly you want to kiss her.

As if things couldn't get anymore tempting, her tongue darts out of her mouth to soothe her lips, making them glisten in the dying light of the evening.

She sees your eyes dart down to them, and her body leans closer to you ever so slightly, seemingly having a mind of its own. You meet her gaze again, silently asking for permission as you glance back down at her lips. She responds by giving one single nod before leaning in close enough that your noses almost brush against each other.

"You're stunning." The compliment sounds breathy as it slips out of your mouth, but you're beyond caring at this point. Your pride was thrown out the window the second Jennie showed interest in you.

"Don't look at me like that," she says, gently biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from closing the distance. She wants you to be the one to do it.

"Like what?"

"Like you're undressing me with your eyes." Her gaze casts down to your lips again, seemingly glued there as she watches them move when you speak your reply.

"You act like you weren't doing the same thing at the event." Her confidence falters momentarily, but she fights to hold her ground. "My colleagues even noticed it, babe -- you've gotta get better at hiding your attraction." You say with a chuckle, watching as Jennie's eyes grow wider. Had she really made it so obvious?

"We wouldn't be here right now if I was good at hiding it, so I think you owe me one."

"Touché," you say, quirking an eyebrow in thought. She's right, as usual. "How can I ever make it up to you?" Your voice wiggles dramatically, face contorting in a mock apology.

"I know a way," she says lowly, smiling as your hand finds its way to her knee a moment later. You hook your fingers in the crook of it, drawing a surprised gasp from her as she falls forward and into your arms.

Here goes nothing.

You raise your left hand to her cheek, brushing the back of your fingers against it gently as you build up the nerve to kiss her. Your other arm is wrapped securely around her waist in order to hold her steady above you.

Her palms are pressed to the glass behind you, and her hair falls gracefully around you, creating a little curtain to shield you from the outside world. Finally gaining enough courage, you press your lips to hers in a soft kiss. It's slow and mild as you set a sensual rhythm, growing accustomed to the taste of each other. She sighs into your mouth as you reposition her so that she's straddling your lap.

"Y/N, we're never gonna make it to the park if you keep kissing me like that." She warns, though her words hold no real threat at all. She wants this just as much as you do.

You lay a trail of light kisses up her neck, all of them far too gentle for her liking right now. "Is this better, your highness?" You ask smugly, smiling against her throat as a frustrated sigh leaves her lips.

She places a hand on your chest to push you up against the glass, letting her fingers skim over your collarbone. Just as she's about to pounce, the sound of your phone ringing interrupts the moment. It vibrates in your pocket, right between Jennie's thighs, and you stifle a giggle at the reaction it would've drawn from her had you not quickly retrieved it.

"Hello?" You ask, realizing you hadn't even bothered to check the caller ID. Jennie sits back on your legs, allowing her hands to rest on your hips and draw soothing circles.

"Y/N, I hate to tell you this on such short notice, but you have a new interview scheduled for tomorrow morning at 10AM. I'll send you all the details later."

You sigh at your manager's words, running a hand over your face to relax yourself. The announcement party was supposed to signal the end of your busy week, but of course life just couldn't work in your favor for once. Now you'd be stuck in some random line of questioning, unable to give them any real answers for the sake of keeping spoilers from getting out. You can think of about a million things you'd rather be doing tomorrow morning, and one of them is sitting on your lap right now.

"Yeah, okay. I'll talk to you later." You wait for him to say his goodbye before ending the call and turning back to Jennie with an apologetic look.

"Sorry for ruining the moment."

"You didn't ruin anything. But luckily for you…" she leans forward again, pressing a kiss to your lips that makes your heart stop for a second, "I can be very merciful." You nearly melt at her words, paired with how she whispers them in your ear. Her warm breath fans over your neck, rendering you speechless as you pull her back to your lips.

This kiss is different -- full of passion and desire as you grow more used to each other. She raises up on her knees, towering over you as she stares down at you. You look so beautiful right now, your eyes appearing big as you look up into hers, waiting for her next move. She runs her hands through your hair before settling them on your cheeks, cupping the smooth skin and rubbing the pad of her thumb across it. You drag your nails up and down her exposed thighs, and you pat yourself on the back when you notice the trail of goosebumps they leave behind.

"I actually do wanna go to the park with you, if that's alright. There's something I want to show you. I definitely want to continue this later, though." You say.

She nods at that, a smile making its way to her face that can't possibly be wiped away. As much as she wants to have you writhing underneath her, screaming her name, she can wait. She's content with making as many memories as possible with you tonight, and she's intrigued by the surprise you're hinting at.

A few gentle kisses later, you slide off the hood and help her down before going to open her car door for her.

"Such a gentlewoman," she praises, pursing her lips at you.

"Only for you," you wink, making her giggle.

You quickly make your way to the driver's seat, set on getting to the park ASAP in order to spend as much time as you can with Jennie. After all, you can only stay up so late tonight if you want to be functioning for that interview tomorrow… and let's just say that you plan on being busy later.

---------

"Voila!" You declare, motioning to some playground equipment in the kid's section of the sizable park. Of all the things she was guessing at, Jennie did not see this coming.

"What, you came to show me monkey bars, Y/N? I've seen plenty of them--" She asks incredulously, looking around the area filled with miniature tables and chairs to go along with the equipment.

"What? No, no. I used to play here when I was growing up, and my friend's and I had a secret hiding spot. We always stashed our favorite little knick knacks in it, and we promised we'd only show it to people we deemed worthy."

Jennie watches as your eyes light up at the recounting of such a dear memory, and she grins widely. You truly are a five year old at heart.

"This is the first time I've been back here, since…" you trail off, realizing just how many years it's been. Being at such a different point in your life while standing in a place you frequented as a child is a weird juxtaposition that you weren't prepared for, but you push it from your mind.

"Anyway, I think you're pretty worthy." You joke, sizing her up. She laughs at that, and you revel in the pleasant sound. You know you probably won't see her again after tonight, so you're determined to ingrain the little things -- like her smile, her laugh -- into your brain.

"Now, let's see… where did Ashley put it?" You whisper to yourself, scanning the length of the playground. Your eyes travel across the slides, over the swings, and around the monkey bars before you spot that little dip in the siding that you'd recognize anywhere. Jennie soon finds her hand slipping into yours as you lead her over to it, a childlike sense of giddiness on your face. She likes seeing you like this.

"I hope it's still here," you say to no one, bending down to press your fingers against the old wood. It's far more worn down now, and you're worried that someone has already come by and cleaned out the hiding spot. Putting your doubts aside, you continue.

"Okay, so don't laugh, but there's a special way you have to open it. Ashley showed it to me one day and it's the only way we could get it to budge after that."

She smiles her gummy smile at you, and you can't help but return the gesture and even steal a quick kiss. She's a bit taken aback when you ball your hand up, using the side of it to deliver a couple blows to the wood in two different spots. Next, you stand and line up your foot, remember exactly how your friend taught you, before executing a calculated kick to the other side.

At first, Jennie wants to laugh at you; but upon closer inspection, she sees that in fact, a small opening is visible in the wood now. You smirk cockily, knowing full well that she hadn't expected that to work.

"Told you so," you tease, now bending down again to work the panel free. You wiggle it back and forth repeatedly, being careful not to go too quickly and damage anything else, and eventually it pops out. She watches as you reach in and pull out a mini jewelry box -- the kind that can fit in your hand, mainly meant for rings or other small items.

"We stole the box from our other friend, Janelle. Had to pay her our allowances for 2 months afterward. Can you believe that?" You ask, shaking your head with another smirk on your lips. Jennie laughs at you in full, loving how carefree you are right now. In a way, she's happy that your manager called earlier; otherwise the two of you most surely would be locked away in your bedroom right now. This experience is definitely one she'll cherish.

"Unbelievable," she sighs, shaking her head and going along with it.

You click the latch on the small box, it's material now weathered and rusty as it creaks when you open it. Jennie steps closer to you to examine its contents, and you fight to contain how hard your heart starts beating at the feeling of her hand on your lower back.

"No way…" you utter, voice full of disbelief as your eyes land on one of your most prized possessions from childhood.

"What?" Jennie asks, genuinely on the edge of her metaphorical seat.

"This butterfly hair clip," you inform, slipping the small contraption between your fingers as you hold it up for her to see, "I won it at a fair with my mom and I always wondered where it went…"

"It's beautiful, Y/N," she says, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the details etched into it. For something so small and seemingly unassuming, it's actually very unique.

"I want you to have it." You say, taking a step away so you can look at her. She instantly goes to refuse, saying, "I can't! You just found it after all this time--"

"And I went all that time without it. If you take it, I'll know it's safe with you. And you can use it to remember me by." You say, your gaze softening as you watch her debate with herself.

"Okay. But if you ever want it back, call me."

"Roger that." You say dorkily, earning yourself a roll of those dark eyes you find yourself getting lost in.

"And for the record, Y/N, I could never forget you. Pretty hair clip or not." Her confession makes you feel happy on a whole new level; knowing that you've left an impact on her is truly a wonderful thing.

"So, what now?" She asks, breaking the happy lull your conversation found itself in.

"We can walk around the park for a little while, or…" you start, waiting for Jennie to prod you further. Both of you know exactly what game you're playing, but it's still fun nonetheless.

"Or?" She inquires, stepping closer as she wraps her arms around your shoulders. She nonchalantly gives you a once over, knowing what power her darkening gaze holds over you.

"We can go back to my place. Maybe play a little footsie, who knows?" You say, shrugging your shoulders with a stupid grin. Even while seducing someone, you can't resist being a geek.

"Footsie?" Jennie gasps, raising her eyebrows, "What kind of girl do you take me for? That only happens after at least 2 dates in."

"Such a prude, Ms. Kim. How can I change your mind?"

She presses a finger to her cheek, pretending to think, before getting an idea. Her lips flirt with the shell of your ear as she whispers obscenities into it, turning you to mush with every new scenario she puts in your head.

You stiffen as she kisses your jaw, the action catching you off guard as you continue reeling from her words.

"I can do that, I think," you cough out, stumbling over the words a little bit. She laughs at the effect she has on you; seeing your confidence waver is a nice role reversal, and it's something she could definitely get used to.

"Let's go." She commands, now taking your hand to pull you after her, just like you had done before.

◇◇◇◇◇

It's painful, how hard Jennie has to restrain herself from touching you as you fumble with your keys. She told herself she'd keep her hands to herself until you got inside, just in case any stray paparazzi managed to catch you two together. The last thing either of you need is some new scandal, especially with your careers in a vulnerable spot as they're really beginning to take off.

"If you don't get that door open within the next 10 seconds, then I'll just take you out here in the hallway."

You audibly gulp at the image she just conjured up in your mind, and you speed up your movements. The prompting worked, evidently, because soon she's practically shoving you through the doorway.

"Finally," she breathes against your lips, pressing you up against the door once you've locked it back.

"I've been waiting to do this since we met earlier." She indulges you in that little secret, smiling at the way you whimper when she pulls your leg up to wrap around her hips.

"I'm all yours," you say, making Jennie's heart flutter at the sentiment. For the night, you're hers and she's yours. "...now kiss me," you command, growing more impatient with each feather-light kiss she presses to your jaw.

"So bossy," she toys, making you roll your eyes.

"You have no idea, babe."

She bites her lip as your husky voice makes its way to her ears, thick with the desire she's been steadily building within you all night. You tug her forward, your fingers bunching up the material of her shirt with little care as her lips meet yours.

Her tongue swipes across your bottom lip, asking for a permission that you granted the second she touched you. You pull her chin down slightly, allowing the kiss to deepen as you tangle your other hand in her hair.

After an especially bruising bite to her lip -- one that thrills her to her core -- she pulls away, breathlessly asking, "How're you so good at this?"

You cackle against her, taken aback by how genuine the question sounded. "Practice for the kdramas, of course."

"I haven't had to do this," you slide a hand between your bodies, smirking at the gasp that sounds off deep in her throat as you make contact with her, "yet though. That might be a little extreme for the screen."

"You think?" She scoffs softly, bringing her hands up to gather your hair to one side. She presses gentle kisses to your neck, prepping the surface for the dark marks she'll most certainly be leaving there later.

"Ready?" You ask, making sure she wants to go through with this.

"You have no idea, babe." She copies your statement from earlier, garnering another smile from you. She swears she can never get enough of that sweet look on your face.

"Follow me," you say, giving her another peck to last until you reach the bedroom.

◇◇◇◇◇ The Morning After ◇◇◇◇◇

Warm, glittering rays of sunlight sneak past the curtains of your apartment window, shining gently through the light material. A dream-like haze befalls the room, serving as a wonderful greeting once you peek your eyes open. The only thing capable of rivaling such a wonderful sight is the woman beside you, her soft breaths keeping your shoulder warm.

As you turn your head to look at her, careful not to wake her, your heart flips. Having her here next to you is the only reason you even believe last night happened; it was magical -- the stuff of fantasy. The two of you did everything: acted on every desire, every impulse -- you truly made the most of the night, determined to make it unforgettable.

A few blissful minutes later, she stirs beside you. "Good morning, Y/N." Her eyes remain closed, still safe from the bright light of the morning as she smirks at the memories replaying in her mind.

You lay a small kiss to her lips, simply missing how they feel against your own. "Morning, beautiful."

A content sigh slips past her lips as she presses them against your neck, cuddling further into you. "Last night was fun."

You decide to tease her. "Eh, I've had better."

If there's one thing that Jennie knows, it's that she's good in bed -- great, even -- and you definitely seemed to be enjoying yourself last night, just as much as she was. Still though, a bit of insecurity runs through her as she raises up on her elbow to look at you through her lashes.

"Really?" She stills her fingers on your arm, stopping them from continuing the trail that they had been blazing just seconds ago. Her eyebrows furrow subtly, the action almost unnoticed by you.

Deciding the joke isn't worth it, you cup her cheek and raise her head so she can meet your eyes.

"No, I'm kidding. Last night was… something else." You chuckle, smiling as your eyes move around the room in an attempt to find the right word for it. When none come to mind -- no words capable of conveying how great it was -- you look back to her.

She has a knowing grin on her face, "I couldn't agree more."

Sneaking a glance at the clock propped up on your bedside table, you get an idea. "You know, Jennie…" you start, purring her name out as you had last night, garnering that achingly familiar groan from her, "...we still have a few hours before either of our schedules start." Your suggestion hangs in the air as you roll her over onto her back, hovering over her and brushing your noses together.

"Hmm, you don't say? Well you're in luck; I still have some things I wanna try out." She plays back, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of your lips as her hands wander over your body.

Your eyes widen in shock, "What the hell could you POSSIBLY be thinking of?? We tried just about everything." She laughs at your reaction and pulls you down closer to her body to whisper in your ear. Jennie can feel you tremble with every new image she puts in your head, just like she had in the park, her lips dragging you further under as she sneaks little kisses to your skin here and there.

"Let me get this gay straight: you want me to do that on the balcony? What if my neighbors see?"

"They won't, we're on one of the top floors. And even if they do… would that really be so bad?" She lets the question hang in the air; she'd be lying if she said the idea of getting caught doesn't thrill her. Thinking of your lips on her neck as she rocks against you, pinned to the railing while out in the open for the world to see, sends a rush of warmth through her.

"I wish you weren't so good at convincing me to do things. You're dangerous, Jennie Kim." You warn, pointing a disapproving finger at her. Your eyes nearly pop out when she kisses it, taking the digit in between her lips while looking up at you innocently. This woman will be the death of you.

◇◇ Back At The Blackpink Dorm ◇◇

"Yah, I know! The new update looks so weird--"

"There she is," Lisa says, motioning to the doorway, interrupting Jisoo and Rosé’s conversation about whatever new video game the unnie had downloaded.

Jennie leans on the heavy door as she locks it behind her, lazily spinning around on her heel with her lips drawn back in a huge gummy smile.

"Somebody's happy…" Jisoo teases, shooting her a smirk. She's still riding the high you put her on, and it's no wonder her members are noticing. It's not like she's exactly trying to hide it, either.

"How was your night? Have fun with Y/N?" The maknae wiggles her eyebrows while propping herself up on her elbows to see Jennie's reaction.

"LISA! She wasn't supposed to know!" Rosé shouts, letting out a disappointed huff. The younger girl only shrugs, a stupid smirk on her lips. Some people just wanna watch the world burn.

The brunette's daze is momentarily broken at this, and she asks what they're talking about.

Jisoo lets out a hesitant breath before explaining, "We saw you two leave together, but we agreed to not bring it up until you did." She shoots some daggers at Lisa before continuing, "Somebody can't seem to keep her mouth shut, though."

Jennie only chuckles now, not really caring if they knew or not. Her night was too wonderful to keep to herself; she would've ended up telling them anyway.

"Gather round, girls; I'll fill you in."

◇◇◇◇◇ Months Later ◇◇◇◇◇

"Why exactly do we have to go to this premiere again?" Jennie grumbles, looking out the window of their limousine. She'd much rather be back at the dorm, snuggled into her cozy heap of pillows and blankets with Netflix playing on her tv.

"Some of our colleagues are starring as background characters, so YG wants us to attend and show our support." Jisoo informs, always seeming to have more knowledge than all of the other girls combined. Jennie nods; the reasoning is sound, but she'd still prefer to be home. Mingling with business people for god knows how long doesn't seem all that enticing to her.

"What's the movie?" Lisa asks, throwing the question behind her to the other girls as she searches the cubby for some complimentary snacks.

"Empress of the Heart," Rosé answers, finally knowing something that Jisoo doesn't.

"Let's watch the trailer for it. If we have to sit through it then we might as well see what we're getting ourselves into." Lisa suggests, her fingers busy opening the bag of chips she chose from the assortment.

"Yeah, okay." Jennie says, her statement followed by words of agreement from the other girls. Rosé takes her phone out to search the title, pepping up when she spots it. She whispers something to Jisoo and Lisa, Jennie paying no mind as she watches the buildings pass by. Her favorite thing to fidget with is secure in her grip, occupying her mind. It's familiar design feels good in her hands -- like it's right where it belongs. (Yes, this is what you think it is).

The other girls put their acting skills to use as they hit play, keeping straight faces when your voice comes through the phone speakers. Jennie's head snaps over to them, recognizing the sound in an instant. "Y-Y/N's starring in it?" She asks, voice coming out as a stutter. The thought of seeing you again thrills her, but she doesn't know if she can do that without falling even deeper. Your night together left her with lasting feelings, none of which she was prepared for in the slightest, and she knows they'll be reignited the moment she lays eyes on you.

"Mhm." They nod sympathetically, all knowing how much she's thought about you the last few months.

Their driver knocks on the partition, requesting to open it. They give him the all clear, and soon he's rolling it down to inform them, "We're here, ladies."

"I'll be okay," Jennie tells them, attempting to stop their worries from growing anymore than they already have. She plays the statement back in her head, whispering it to herself as she exits the limo; tonight could only go one of two ways, and it depends entirely on you.

☆☆ Part 2 Linked Up Top ☆☆

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hiiraya · 3 years

Text

you smile, i smile

masterlist

pairing: carol danvers x reader

words: ~1,945

warnings: none

requested: for you anon :))

a/n: it's been so long since i've written anything that i could not come up with proper sentences so i hope you don't mind that i made your request into a headcanon anon!! happy reading! ♡

She doesn’t know where or when it started – nor could she pinpoint the exact moment she made it her own personal mission to make you smile or laugh.

You certainly didn’t think that you stood out enough from the crowd to catch the attention of the Captain Marvel.

Sure, you trained with her every now and again when you got the chance to but then again, you’ve also gotten the chance to train with nearly all of the avengers ever since joining S.H.I.E.L.D as a field agent.

You weren’t the coldest or most intimidating person in your division per say, there were definitely people who scared the absolute shit out of you (not that you would admit it to anyone), but you definitely didn’t go out of your way to smile at everyone you came across or make banter with your fellow agents.

Still, everyone definitely thought that you were intimidating nonetheless (you hated to admit that you were a little proud of the reputation you managed to earn).

But back to the point, Carol was determined to make you crack a smile at some point – and you definitely weren’t planning on making it easy for her, but it definitely enamoured you to see how hard she was trying.

You and a few other agents got to join Carol and Natasha on a recon mission when Carol uses the opportunity to make another attempt at getting you to crack.

No one tries to stop her anymore, since the lengths the blonde went in attempt to get even a smirk from you made her look a little ridiculous, Carol’s enchantment with you was obvious to anyone who saw you two in the same room.

“You know, they say that you should appreciate the little things in life.”

She catches everyone’s attention with that, some agents already cracking a smile even though she hasn’t even reached the punchline of her joke, while the others already have their eyes on you, waiting to see if the captain would finally succeed with her mission.

“Natasha,” she says, resting her hand on the redhead’s shoulder. “I appreciate you.”

“Fuck you, Danvers.”

The agents turn their heads away from the two women, muffling their chuckles with their shoulders, not wanting to end up on the Black widow’s bad side (even though they already know that she’s going to give them hell the next morning during training).

Carol’s eyes settle on your face after she manages to dodge the redhead’s fist. And even though your face remains neutral despite everyone else laughing at her antics, it doesn’t deter her at all – in fact, the indifferent look on your face only encourages her to keep trying harder.

She’ll get you to crack one day. She can feel it.

She wonders, as she often does when she isn’t busy with training or paperwork or whatever it is Fury has her doing, what your smile might look like.

Do you have dimples? Does your nose crinkle when you find a joke too cheesy for your liking, but you can’t help but smile at it anyway?

She likes to believe (more like she’s convinced herself) that you had the type of smile that reached your eyes, turning them into half-moons as you smiled with an intensity that could rival the sun.

So maybe her little fascination with you turned into a budding crush along the way.

Who could blame her?

Leave it to Natasha to ruin her plan only a few weeks later.

“What’s gotten you all excited, Danvers?” The redhead asks her while they’re making last minute checks for the mission they’re about to go on.

“Can I not be excited to do my job?”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all. Be excited all you want.” She quips. “I’m just taking a big guess that the reason as to why you’re basically vibrating on the spot is because Y/N/N’s coming with us.”

Carol rolls her eyes, but not before an absentminded smile appears on her face. The two of them quieting down when you enter the quinjet a few minutes later, murmuring a brief hello to both of them as you head to your seat.

Carol mouths “not a word” to Natasha, who only smirks before she replies with “make me”.

“Hey Y/N/N, come here. I have something to show you.”

Looking up from the file you were reading, you raise your brow as you watch the redhead motion for you to approach her.

You take a moment to glance at the blonde, who was currently preoccupied with flying the jet to notice that her teammate was planning something behind her back

“Yes, agent Romanoff?”

“First of all, it’s Natasha,” she says, rolling her eyes at you. “And second of all, I need you to watch this.”

You’re about to question her on what exactly it was that you needed to watch, but the shorter woman’s already making her way over to Carol before you can open your mouth.

It’s hard to make out what she’s saying to the blonde from where you stood without making it too obvious that you were eavesdropping, but your ears hone in on every time your name leaves the ex-assassin’s lips.

It takes you a moment to recognise what you were looking for, but you realise soon enough that with every mention of your name from the redhead, the corner of Carol’s lips lifts up until soon enough, she’s full-blown smiling as she banters with the redhead.

It’s enough to make the corner of your own lips turn up, quietly clearing your throat in attempts to hide the laugh wanting to leave your lips.

Natasha, being the genius that she is, has somehow managed to pull a Pavlovian response from Carol with the mere mention of your name.

(You ask her how she managed to classically condition Carol to smile at your name a few months later, but she only gives you a knowing smile before telling you that “some things are meant to be kept a secret, Y/N/N.”)

Apparently, your attempts to dampen your quiet laughter weren’t enough to not catch Natasha’s attention, since she was already looking at you with a raised brow when you looked back at the pair.

She knows you’ve caught on to her plan, and now the both of you know that the only person who hasn’t caught up on her little plan was the blonde sitting in front of her.

(It would be a good time to mention that the conversation she was having with Carol actually didn’t have anything to do with you – she just kept saying your name at random intervals, and Carol, who you suspect had no idea that she was even reacting in the way she was, kept smiling wider and wider each time.)

It definitely wasn’t a surprise to you to know that Carol had a thing for you (Natasha and some of the agents you worked with mentioned it in passing a few times before), but this whole experiment Natasha’s managed to pull really solidified the fact.

After all, who else would really go through all this effort to make someone smile if you didn’t feel even an ounce of affection towards them?

“You did not, Romanoff”

“Oh, but I did, L/N.”

It’s only then that Carol turns around to look at you, utterly confused when she sees you biting your lip in order to keep the corners of your mouth from rising any further than it already has.

“What’s going on? What did I miss, and is Y/N smiling?”

“I beat you to it, Danvers,” Natasha explains. “I made Y/N/N here smile and laugh.”

“First of all, I did not laugh. Don’t get all too cocky , Romanoff,” you counter. “And if anything, it was a smirk more than anything.”

The redhead shakes her head, pointing a finger at you. “Don’t think I didn’t hear that little cough you did, L/N. I’m counting it.”

The two of you are too busy bickering to see the pout forming on carol’s face until she speaks up.

“Natasha beat me to it?”

You look at her then and your heart absolutely melts at the sight of her pouted lips.

You can tell that she’s slightly disappointed that she wasn’t the one to make it happen (you make it a habit later on to point out the fact that it was because of her that you finally cracked).

Deciding that you’ve played hard to get with the blonde for too long, you make your way over to her, kneeling down and giving her a real smile for her and her eyes only.

Carol decides that the daydreams she’s had about your sight of your smile has nothing on the real thing.

And hey, if her guesses on what your smile looked like were correct or not, that was only for her to know.

“You look cute when you pout, but I’d rather see you smiling.”

"Oh, Y/N/N’s here.”

They’re sitting in the kitchen waiting for you to return from the solo mission you were sent on when Natasha breaks the silence between them.

“Alright, Romanoff,” she says, narrowing her eyes at her friend. “I know it used to work, but not anymore. I’m not going to smile just because you say their name.”

Natasha wants to argue that she did exactly just that, but she bites her tongue when she sees you exiting the elevator, not actually expecting you to be back so soon.

“Aww, you’re not?” You tease from behind her. “It’s okay to admit that you can’t help it when you hear my name, baby.”

She ends up face-to-face to you when she spins around in her chair, her body going lax in your hold when your arms wrap themselves around her shoulders.

“You’re supposed to be on my team, L/N.” She grumbles, her façade already wavering when she feels your chest rumble as you laugh.

“I always am, Danvers.”

She grins against your chest at your words, lifting her head up from its spot to show you her satisfaction at your words.

"I personally love the fact that you smile whenever anyone says my name around you,” you murmur against her hair as you press a kiss to her temple.

And if she gets pouty at the reminder of Natasha’s experiment (she still has no idea how she managed to do it without her noticing), she more than happily accepts the kiss you give her as an apology.

She doesn’t really mind that you tease her about it because it makes you smile, something she didn’t even think was possible when she first met you.

It’s still taking you a little getting used to being more smiley and affectionate around people, but Carol sees how hard you try and loves you all the more for it.

(It shocks everyone else all the same the first time you offer them timid smiles when you pass them in the hallways, even more so when you start to banter with them, but they welcome you in like you never used to be known as the broody and indifferent agent.)

You tell her one time in passing that it’s because she brings so much warmth into your life, teaching you so much about being loved and loving in return that it feels rude not to return the love she so freely gives to you.

So, you smile more than you think you ever have in your life whenever Carol’s around, and you laugh – loudly and freely – whenever she tells you those cheesy jokes she used to, smiling just as wide when you show her the grin she’s grown to love.

#carol danvers x reader #captain marvel x reader #avengers x reader #carol x reader #carol danvers imagine #captain marvel imagine #avengers imagine #marvel imagine #carol danvers headcanon #myfics.txt #this was has been sitting in my wips folder for so long now #so sorry to who requested this for taking so long #pls forgive me <3 #also i hate how this looks on desktop hfffffffff rip

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endlessymphony · 3 years

Note

Hi congrats on 50 Followers !!!!

🧸 : James Potter x reader where he spends a lot of time with the marauders and kinda ignores the reader and forgets their anniversary. So they get into a big argument and James says something mean about her being a muggle born.

Happy ending please 😁

Thank you 🙏

thank you so much lovely anon!

apologies.

pairing - james potter x reader

summary - james forgot your two year anniversary and left you waiting all day, just to come to your dorm and end up starting an argument

warnings - arguments, a bit of prejudice against muggles/muggle-borns, cussing

a/n - im really glad you guys like my james potter fics lol

you awoke, a rush of adrenaline and giddiness taking over as you practically shot yourself out of bed, almost tripping over the blankets you shoved onto the floor. you rushed over to the calendar hanging on the back of your door, bare feet pitter pattering on the hardwood floor, and yes! today was the day! the hearts circled in pen around the date only confirming your excitement.

your two year anniversary with the one and only james potter. your heart pounding a million miles a minute- feeling it ought to beat right out your chest. below the heart was written ‘surprise date’ in his handwriting, as he insisted that he could handle planning this date on his own. he was wrong, although you weren’t aware of that quite yet.

you spun yourself in a circle, making small noises of glee as you tossed yourself back onto your bed, thinking of what james might be up to. “oh merlin, i need to get ready.” you gasped, sitting back up and rushing over to your wardrobe.

it took an hour to find an outfit that you deemed ‘perfect’, settling on a top that you knew james loved. you spent another thirty minutes on hair and makeup, overjoyed to be spending the day with your beloved.

the waiting game began.

at first it was difficult to wait for him, adrenaline still rushing through your veins- body running off of pure excitement.

an hour passed, then two... then five, and soon it was much darker outside, the sun starting to set.

‘maybe he’s held up grabbing flowers, or making dinner reservations’ you thought, trying to push away the anxiety that was slowly creeping in to replace the high that you were feeling before. ‘oh! maybe we’re doing a night under the stars, how gorgeous would that be’

so, you continued to wait

but he never showed.

james finally came stumbling in to your dorm room at half-passed twelve, chuckling at the sight in front of him. you were wrapped up in a blanket, laying in your bed so that your back faced the door, hiding your hurt expression from him.

“hey, love.” he crooned as he walked over and sat down beside you on the bed, gently putting a hand on your shoulder. “the boys and i had a great day today, you won’t believe what we got up to!”

you slowly sat up, turning to look at him. tear stains on full display, mascara making them all-the-more obvious. james let out a small gasp, hand moving to cup your face. “oh no, what’s wrong? did something happen?” he gently smoothed his thumb over your cheek.

you pulled yourself away from his touch, throwing the blanket off like you had done this morning, but a different feeling had taken over by this point. anger. disappointment. hurt.

you dragged him by the arm and pointed to the date on your calendar, tapping the paper with your pointer finger a few times so he would get the gist. “what are you trying to tell me, y/n?” he asked, cocking his head to the side, trying to play the dumb card.

“you missed our anniversary, james. it’s been two years.” you felt defeated, like every ounce of life had been drained out of your body, and you were now an empty shell. “i waited for you” you began, “all day.”

“it’s not that big of a deal, let’s just do something this weekend instead.” he offered, a smile making its way to his face.

god- you wanted to punch that stupid fucking smile off his face.

“not that big of a deal, james? you left me hanging. ALL DAY i waited.” you were starting to get angry, your voice starting to waver as it raised in decibels. “you knew how much this meant to me! or so i thought you did, but lately, it’s like everyone else is MUCH more important than i am.” your hands balled into fists, brows furrowing slightly as you started to let him have it.

“and don’t you fucking dare say this isn’t a big deal, james potter.” you spat, voice like venom as your said his name. “you really let me down, you really fucking blew it this time, i am really fucking upset about this.”

“i should’ve known that muggles overreact over everything.” he muttered to himself, brows practically knitted together as he ran a hand through his hair. his eyes widened as soon as he said that, opening his mouth to apologize to you.

“you know what james, just fucking leave, just get out.” your lip started to quiver, eyes threatening to spill hot tears down your face all over again, you wanted to hold your composure in front of him. your heart felt as if it had completely shattered in your chest. “really? you really want me to leave?” it was his turn to feel defeated, face started to relax from its scrunched up state.

“yeah, i do. now get the fuck out.”

james looked as if he had his tail between his legs, shoulders slumping down as his whole body started to deflate in defeat. embarrassment. shame. “okay.” his voice was small, this version of him was completely different from the ‘regular’ james that you knew and loved. he walked out, turning to look at you, but you just slammed the door in his face.

you cast a quick silencing charm before you began to scream-sob. tears feeling as if they’re burning your skin- falling to your knees as you let the waves of heartbreak, pain, and anger completely take you over. you cried until you couldn’t anymore, head pounding and eyes starting to get puffy and red. you screamed until you couldn’t any longer, voice hoarse and throat feeling as if it were on fire.

you sobbed still, silently, nothing coming out as you had nothing left to give. “thanks james, thanks for making me feel so loved... so appreciated.” your voice was broken, cracking with every word. you laid on the floor, wishing that it would swallow you up, so you could disappear and never have to feel a thing.

you ended up falling asleep, the whole day taking it’s toll on you. you had nothing more to give, no more fight left in you.

james knocked on your door lightly, afraid that you were about to tear his head off the moment that he stepped inside your dorm. “y/n?” he asked, tone merely above a whisper as he slowly opened the door and stepped in. james closed the door gently, eyes finally falling on your figure laying on the floor.

he felt a pang of pain shoot through his heart. “i caused this.” he mumbled, taking a few slow steps towards you and sitting down. he felt tears welling in his eyes, a few managing to slide down his face as he looked at you. james felt nothing but remorse and disappointment for how things went earlier. he had completely forgotten about the anniversary- what a dick move.

your eyes flickered open, vision slightly out of focus as you try to figure out who’s figure is in front of you. low and behold it was james, crying, mumbling about how he knows he fucked up- and it’s eating him up inside, and about how much he loves you.

you began to sit up, blinking a few times to wave the sleep from your eyes. “james?” you asked, voice still torn up. his head shot up, trying to wipe away the tears with his hands. “hey.”

“what are you doing here?” you asked, “sh. don’t talk, you’ll blow your voice out.” james replied. “i wanted to come back and apologize to you. i feel awful about earlier, and i know how much i hurt you with my actions, especially with my comment about muggles.” he gently cupped your face again, “i didn’t mean it, i promise. i really didn’t mean it.” he sniffled, trying to keep the tears away, but despite his efforts- they returned. “i really love you. god, i’m a shitty fucking boyfriend, aren’t i?” james chuckled, trying to ignore the tears now steaming down his face.

“james.” you started, “no, y/n, i need to make it up to you for how terrible today was. i need to show you that you’re loved, and make you feel important and special, and like the only person in the world.” he started to trip over his words, talking fast out of nervousness, he didn’t want you to kick him out again.

“can we talk about it more later?” you finally managed to ask, “yeah. yeah, sure. definitely. you can sleep in tomorrow and i’ll go and get you some breakfast, does that sound alright?” he was rambling again, trying to ‘fix’ everything. you nodded, a small smile beginning to grace your lips.

“now let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” he stood up and offered a hand to you. “we have time for apologies tomorrow.” you took his hand hesitatingly, slowly standing up, legs a bit wobbly.

james walked you to your bathroom, grabbing you by the waist and sitting you up on the counter. he began to lightly hum to himself as he pulled out a bottle of makeup remover and some cotton rounds, pouring some of the liquid onto the round and gently starting to clean the makeup off your face. he washed your face and brushed your hair for you after, as well.

he helped you change into your pyjamas, and placed you into bed, picking up the blankets off the floor and placing them back on the bed- tucking you in. he leaned in and kissed your head before stripping down to just his t-shirt and boxers, placing his glasses on the nightstand, and climbing into bed beside you.

he spent the rest of the night whispering compliments to you, telling you how much he loves you and wants to be with you forever, and there was no shortage of apologies said. james held you to his chest, playing with your hair until the both of you eventually drifted off to sleep.

#endlessymphony’s 50 follower picnic!#james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #james potter #the marauders #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfic #hp fanfic #hp drabbles #harry potter universe #harry potter #harry potter fandom #hp fandom #harry potter angst #james potter angst #angst fanfic

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kiuda · 3 years

Note

The potential angst from this MCC is just wild.

MCC Anon - Oh I agree >:D

Crying blob Anon - we love angst here <333

warnings: prison arc themes, obedience (c!Dream is afraid of c!Sam, who is basically threatening him to do whatever he wants, with no descriptions), not c!Awesamdude or c!Quackity friendly, panic attacks (or beginnings of them?)

/rp /dsmp

Dream was alone again. Techno left him, just like everyone else did.

Was he surprised? No. But it still hurt.

Hurt because Technoblade promised him that he would be back. He said he would come back for him. He did!

So why was he still locked up? Why was he alone again? Why has it been so long since he has seen someone besides the Warden?

The Warden. Sam. Awesam. His old friend. Someone he trusted once. Someone he had to trust again, if he wanted to survive.

He was completely at the mercy of the older man. If he got out of line, if he did something the other didn’t like… he would tell Quackity. He would tell him Dream is still there. He would let him in again. The nightmare would begin once more.

He couldn’t let that happen. He finally had a choice. (Did he? Was that ever a choice? Wasn’t it just an ultimatum?) He had to make the right one.

So he stayed put. He did what the Warden asked. He wished for Techno to come rescue him less with each day. He thought he was finally starting to lose hope. Again.

He was sitting in his corner, right by the chest, when Sa- the Warden came again. He didn’t lift his head up when he heard the mechanism start. He didn’t meet the eyes of his… caretaker when he approached.

Then a bag hit him on the head. He yelped very quietly, before reaching for the bag at Sam’s order “Change.”

It was a pink jacket with some pink sweatpants and a tight undershirt. Why was it pink? Why was he supposed to wear that?

“What?” The question wasn’t meant to get an answer. It was more of an automatic response. One that hopefully wouldn’t get the Warden mad at him.

“It’s MCC day. You need to change. Quickly.” The words were spoken quickly, wavering from barely hidden stress and uncertainty. What was the Warden afraid of? He would have a few hours to himself- Oh.

Sam was wearing a pink jacket as well.

No.

NonononononNONONONO.

NO!

Sam. The Warden. The person who has spent the last who-even-knows-how-long trying to keep him as weak and as docile as possible. Who kept him locked up in this cell. Who controlled how much he could eat. Who could say ‘Jump.’ and Dream would have to ask ‘How high?’ if he didn’t want to suffer the consequences.

MCC was the one day of the month when Dream could be free. The day during which he wasn’t a prisoner. He was the Dream. the famous parkourer, seasoned pvp’er. Someone the rest of the competitors were afraid of.

And now? It was another day spent with the Warden. Another day spent in fear. Fear of failure. Fear of making any mistakes.

But what could he do? If he refused, the Warden would surely stay behind with him. He would be hurt again. Even with the Warden with him, maybe he could enjoy the few hours of freedom? Maybe their other two teammates would ensure Sam couldn’t do anything to him?

Maybe he was paired with Sapnap again? Maybe he could try telling him the truth? Maybe he could ask for help?

Just maybe?

He put on the clothes quickly, gratefully putting on a new mask that the Warden passed to him as well. He stood up and drank the offered strength potion. He was going to need it after all the time spent in the cell.

Suddenly the familiar feeling of changing servers began and he closed his eyes, preparing for the loud music, bright sunlight and overall happiness of the festivities of the lobby. He opened them when he felt the warmth of the sun on his face for the first time in forever.

The lava was warm, sure, but it’s warmth was still cold. It was harsh and pointy like a spike. The warmth of the sun was soothing. It felt like a hug from a loved one. He missed that feeling.

Dream felt happy. Trurly happy.

And then he opened his eyes.

In front of him stood one person he was more afraid of than Sam.

The person he didn’t want to ever see again.

The person he thought he was free from.

Quackity.

“Dream!” He sneered, reaching out and hugging him way too tightly. Behind him stood disoriented George. Dream felt like crying. The sun wasn’t as warm any more. It was cold. Cold like the obsidian. Cold like the Warden’s eyes. Cold like the netherite tools. ColdcoldcoldcoldCOLD-

“We are gonna win, alright?” The casino owner’s question wasn’t one at all. It was an order. Dream knew that.

He really needed to win now.

#dreblr #mcc au #c!awesamdude negative #c!quackity negative #just in case :D #ask #anon #hope you both like it!! :D #but srs this team is perfect for angst >:D #ask to tag #because i am not sure what tws to use #kiuda.writing

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jayeray-hq · 3 years

Note

Heyo! For your affection series could you add kunimi and goshiki? Thank you 🙏

Sure thing anon! Thank you so much for asking! If you haven't already seen it Kunimi is here!

Post Time Skip/Manga Ending Spoilers!

Warnings: None all Fluff!

How He Shows You Affection Master List - Character Masterlist

He Tells You About It (As Best He Can)

You watched your boyfriend pace back and forth in front of the TV as you leaned on the counter in your kitchen. Something was obviously bothering him, and had been since he’d gotten home from practice. He’d still greeted you with his normal exuberance, practically colliding with you the minute he spotted you, hugging you close, but something about his eyes had been off. He’d definitely seemed worried, which had started your suspicions.

Now that was pacing your suspicions were confirmed. Goshiki always paced back and forth when something was bothering him. According to him it helped him focus on his thoughts if he let his body move, so you’d left him to it. However, it had been something like forty-five minutes now, and you were starting to get concerned. Thus you decided it was time to attempt to intervene.

“Tsutomu, is something wrong?” you asked gently, your voice instantly snapping him out of his pacing as he turned to look at you, dark eyes wide in his face.

It seemed that your gentle prompt was all he needed though because he practically bounded across the room, carefully taking hold of your elbows in his large hands as he peered worriedly into your face and asked, “Do I tell you I love you enough?”

You stared at him blankly, trying to absorb the question, wondering what on earth could’ve prompted him to ask. However, your poor boyfriend had apparently taken your silence as either reluctance to answer, or no, because he immediately started to babble.

“Because I do you know, love you? I love you so much, more than anything, more than boiled flounder, more than the perfect serve, even more than my mom and Dai!” he floundered, staring at you a bit helplessly.

It took all your willpower not to giggle, when you knew he was being completely and utterly serious. Though you couldn’t help but find the fact that he’d told you he loved you more than his mother and his dog in the same sentence a bit hilarious, if utterly sweet. It was honestly a bit of a silly thing to be worried about, that he thought you didn’t know how much he loved you.

From the very beginning Goshiki had made it obvious he practically worshipped the ground you walked on. If you said jump, he’d be up in the air before you could even think to ask how high. He was always full of clumsy but well-meant compliments, and never failed to tell you I love you both before he left for the day and when he got home every night despite the fact that there were some in the more conservative Japan who looked down on expressing love for your spouse so openly.

He hadn’t ever given you cause to doubt his love for you, in fact there were only ever times when you wondered if you could live up to how much he loved you and return it equally. If anything you should be the one wondering if he knew just how much he loved you, not him.

“Tsutomu,” you interrupted gently, before he could get anymore worked up, “It’s okay. I know you love me.”

“You do?” he asked, with a worried frown.

You leaned forward to press a quick peck to the pucker between his eyebrows, earning a slight blush from your boyfriend, who despite how long you’d been dating still got flustered over the little things as you assured him, “I do. What brought this on?”

“Kiryu was telling the guys in practice that his girlfriend almost broke up with him because she didn’t know he loved her,” he explained readily enough, relaxing into your hold as you wrapped your arms around his trim waist, “I just wanted to make sure that wouldn’t ever happen to us.”

“It won’t,” you assured him with an affectionate smile, feeling soft at how cute he could be, even if he would argue until he was blue in the face that he wasn’t anything close to ‘cute’, “I’ve never once doubted how much you love me, Tsutomu. You know I love you too right?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, though the slight emotional waver in his voice told you it wasn’t quite as sure as he probably meant for it to be as he squeezed you close. You hugged back with a content sigh and made a mental note to tell him you loved him more often, because you knew how very much he loved you, you wanted him to know just how much you adored him too.

He Lets You Hang on Him

“Tsutomu!” you cheered, bright and joyful, waving at him from your place by the dividers that separated the court from the crowd.

You weren’t sure if he’d be able to hear you, what with how loud everything was, but low and behold the minute his name was out of your mouth his head was on a swivel searching for you. The minute he spotted you his whole face lit up, as he immediately jogged over to where you were standing.

Holding out your arms you were immediately indulged as he leaned over the dividers to give you your hug, completely unbothered by the crowd and the potential eyes on the two of you. The first time you’d done this you were the one who’d had to lean over the dividers, and your poor boyfriend had blushed up a storm the whole time, even if he’d returned your embrace.

Worried you might’ve made him uncomfortable you’d talked to him after the game and offered to not do it anymore and wait until the two of you were in private. To your shock your boyfriend had immediately protested, insisting you could reach for him whenever and wherever you wanted. He didn’t mind and he never would.

You’d taken him at his word, and slowly but surely, he’d stopped getting quite so flustered, and instead of you having to reach for him, he almost always reached for you first. It never failed to make you smile and feel appreciated and loved by your boyfriend.

It was special, especially since you knew that he didn’t reach for anyone else, and if they tried to reach for him he grumbled about it. Even his teammates weren’t exempt from this, as he always got huffy whenever anyone tried to ruffle his hair, or do anything that might mess with his image as the ‘cool Ace of the team’.

If it was you though he didn’t care a bit. Goshiki was more than content to let you hang all over him, giving hugs, lacing your hands together, linking arms or even the occasional chaste peck to the cheek. It had taken a little bit for him to get comfortable with it all, especially since he’d been so flustered at first, blushing and stuttering up a storm. These days though he barely batted an eye.

He accepted each and every physical gesture from you joyfully, a wide beaming grin on his face every single time. It was cute, especially since you knew if he was denied those gestures he’d get pouty and would shoot you the most devastating puppy dog eyes until you caved in and reached for him again.

“Are you ready for the game?” you asked him as you drew back from the hug, though your hands lingered at his waist.

“Of course!” he told you seriously, a proud, determined glint in his eye as he explained, “An Ace is always ready! We’re going to win this one for sure!”

“Of course you will,” you agreed, with a soft fond smile.

You reached up to press an affectionate kiss to his cheek, unable to help your amusement as he blushed and sputtered a bit as you told him, “Good luck Tsutomu! I’m cheering for you!”

Your poor boyfriend sputtered out his thanks and jogged back to his teammates, face still bright red, but with an enormous grin on his face. You giggled a bit to yourself as you watched his teammates gently tease him as he shook off his embarrassment and got his head in the game, feeling inordinately fond of your boyfriend, who loved you enough to do anything for you, even put up with a little friendly ribbing from his teammates.

You weren’t sure if you were looking forward to or dreading the day he became completely immune to the embarrassment of physical affection. All you really knew was that you were going to cherish each and every moment of it, and the adoration he had for you.

He Hypes You Up and Brags About You

“Alright, alright we get it already,” a familiar voice announced, sounding completely and utterly resigned. Something about the way it was said, making you pause in place.

You hadn’t been too sure about accompanying Goshiki to the reunion of his volleyball team from his high school days, mostly because you’d never met any of them before. However, you’d heard plenty from your boyfriend, who clearly admired them all a great deal, none more so than Ushijima Wakatoshi, the prize Ace of the Schweiden Adlers and one of his rivals.

You’d seen Ushijima from a distance before, as you’d attended the games when he played against your boyfriend, but had never had the chance to be introduced as he tended to leave quickly once the game was over. He was every bit as imposing and formidable as Goshiki had described him, though far quieter than you’d expected.

The others were all equally impressive and a little imposing. Tendou, Satori was MeTube famous, a sensation and an influencer known for his amazing chocolate creations. Semi, Eita was in a band who’s current song was in the top ten trending in the nation. Shirabu Kenjirou was a budding surgeon, and all the others were professional athletes of some kind or another. It was a very impressive crowd, and you suddenly understood a lot better why your boyfriend, strong and amazing as he was, could have such deep insecurities.

Still the group had been nothing but kind and welcoming to the two of you, and it was very obvious they doted on your boyfriend, who was something like the baby of the group as he’d been the only first year starter on the team. Even Shirabu, who constantly threw sarcasm at anyone and anything clearly only had Goshiki’s best interests in mind.

It had made you more than a bit nervous. Honestly, it was like meeting his family all over again. Luckily, it seemed to be going well so far, even so you’d had to excuse yourself to run to the restroom to freshen up a bit to give yourself a bit of a breather. They likely didn’t mean to, but the group was a little rowdy and overwhelming at times.

You’d been on your way back when you’d overheard what you were pretty sure was Semi, though it was hard to be sure given you’d only met them all that day.

“Your girlfriend is the greatest, we get it,” Semi continued, heaving a sigh, making you flush a bit. Goshiki was always hyping you up, and you’d caught him bragging about you to his teammates more than once. It was incredibly sweet, and flattering, if a little embarrassing at times.

“Aww, don’t be sad just because you’re a sad single Semi-Semi,” a voice that was definitely Tendou chimed in, “We should be happy for our cute junior.”

“You’re single too!” Semi hissed back, “And don’t call me Semi-Semi!”

“I think it’s nice that Goshiki is so happy with his partner,” a calm voice that you were fairly sure was Ohira put in thoughtfully.

“You don’t get to talk either mister married with a daughter,” Shirabu snarked.

“It’s nice to see everyone so happy with their partners,” Kawanishi mused, “you two look nice together.”

“She’s amazing,” Goshiki agreed immediately, with a dreamy sigh, that made your heart flutter and your cheeks flush, “I really don’t deserve her.”

You weren’t about to let that stand. Your boyfriend was really too sweet, and couldn’t be more deserving if he tried.

“I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you,” you told him, announcing your presence as you slid back into your seat beside him, clearly startling him though he didn’t protest as you reached for his hand, eagerly twining his fingers together with yours despite the pink flush to his cheeks.

“Gross,” Shirabu informed the two of you, though the small smirk on his lips gave away that he didn’t really mean it.

“I think they are nice together,” Ushijima announced, suddenly, cutting off the retort that had clearly been on the tip of Goshiki’s tongue.

There was a general murmur of agreement from around the table, Ushijima’s apparently the last word that was needed. You were glad to have seemingly gotten their approval, but at the end of the day the only opinion that really mattered was your boyfriend’s, and he’d made his perfectly clear to anyone and everyone that would listen.

He never failed to make you feel loved, which was probably why you were so head over heels for him, because there was no one else quite like Goshiki Tsutomu.

Like this? Please feel free to drop in to my ask box and make requests! Just make sure to read the rules first!

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#goshiki tsutomu #tsutomu goshiki #goshiki x you #goshiki x reader #goshiki fluff #goshiki fic #how he shows you affection #JayeRayWrites #haikyuu goshiki #hq goshiki #goshiki tsutomu fluff #goshiki tsutomu x you #goshiki tsutomu x reader #haikyuu #haikyu imagines

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cellsshapedlikestars · 3 years

Note

Hello!

I love all your work so much and I saw that you were going to be taking a break from your Bachelor universe so I wanted to throw some prompts your way to maybe help get some other creative juices flowing *waggles eyebrows*

1) switched at birth AU

2) Everyone already knows their dating AU

3) Law and Order (SVU AU)

4) you’ve got mail AU

Thank you anon, I'm glad you like my writing!

Now that I've finished my Bach fic, I've been at a bit of a loss what I want to do next. Maybe it's because I'm all out of new ideas, maybe it's because work has been absolutely hectic, but my creative brain is completely empty. So I figured, why not try to do one of these prompts?

Here's the thing: I have never seen SVU or You've Got Mail. And I'm pretty sure Switched at Birth is also a TV show I have never seen? When I saw "everyone already knows" my immediate thought was "oh! like in Friends!" but then I remembered I have absolutely read that fic somewhere?? Like someone already wrote that for Jonsa. (I tried to find it again but have had no luck.)

So I chose switched at birth as a concept - I'm not sure if you meant the TV show or not, but I just wrote whatever popped into my brain.

A warning: this turned out a bit more angsty than I intended, and isn't necessarily Jonsa? It is if you squint. A few other notes, Alayne is a completely separate person from Sansa, Lysa is not related to Catelyn, and Baelish never knew Catelyn either. Sorry if it's confusing and/or not at all what you were looking for!

Sansa feels as if the world has dropped out from beneath her.

They all sit in the drawing room of what she can only describe as a mansion (and she knows that next to her, Father is likely seething. This is the kind of money he aspires to, but will never be able to reach. He will never have a name. Father is a Baelish, he could never be a Stark.)

She stares at the family sitting opposite and her heart sticks in her throat at the sight of them – the mother, the three sons, they all have the same copper hair that she does and she swallows against the rising tears.

This is what she could have had, she thinks as she averts her eyes, but she only manages to catch sight of the family portrait above the mantel. A father, a mother, siblings. She could have had all of this, if not for the slip-up of an overworked, underpaid nurse sixteen years ago. She could have been Alayne Stark. Instead she is Sansa Baelish.

Switched at birth.

Alayne sits with her family (that should be Sansa's family), and she doesn't look as out of place as she should. Her dark hair matches Mr. Stark's – matches the other daughter, Arya. Alayne fits right in.

Sansa sits with Father (no, not her father; the man who raised her) on the opposite couch and wonders if her Mother (no, not her mother) had known, somehow. Is that why Mother had always been so cruel to her? Why she always seemed to hate Sansa for reasons she could never figure out? Perhaps Mother had known, somehow, that Sansa wasn't hers. Sansa remembers reading fairy stories of Changelings – how the mother would know, insist the child wasn't hers, how no one ever believed her. Is that why Mother threw herself off the roof all those years ago?

“Well this is fucking awkward,” the girl, Arya, mutters, and it breaks the silence as Mr. Stark sighs and presses a hand over his face and Mrs. Stark begins to scold her for her language and impropriety. Sansa watches Alayne laugh, and she feels more than ever like an intruder. She may share the Stark blood, but it seems as if Alayne and Arya are more alike than not. And by the way the brothers are trying to hide their own laughter, it seems Alayne fits in with all of them.

Perhaps it wasn't a mistake to switch them, Sansa thinks bitterly. Perhaps the Starks are better for having Alayne.

….

She is forced to get to know the Stark family, though she does not think she wants to. She doesn't want to look at their life and wish it could have been hers – wish that Ned Stark with his kind eyes and calm voice could have been her father. Wish that Catelyn Stark with her smiles and her freshly baked cookies could have been her mother. Wish that she could have been surrounded by siblings and dogs and even two strange psuedo-adopted-but-not-really brothers that she meets later on named Jon and Theon. The Stark household is chaotic and confusing and Sansa tells herself she would have hated growing up here.

….

She isn't surprised to find that she's not sad Father isn't her real father. In fact, there's a sort of joy inside her that when she turns eighteen, she can be free of him. He is still her legal guardian, the courts have decided, but she has less than two years before she is free and they aren't actually related and so she doesn't have to feel guilty about her dreams of leaving him.

It grows inside her as the weeks and months go by – a hatred she has never truly let herself feel before. She hates him, despises him. She always has.

Catelyn Stark is insistent on getting to know her because Sansa is her daughter, but Sansa can tell that Father has no real desire to get to know his own real daughter. He does not care about Alayne – no, what he cares about is ingratiating himself into the Stark family. She wonders if the Starks can see it like she can. She hopes not – she doesn't want them to think she's only coming to these weekly meetings for their money and their name.

In all honestly, she's not actually sure why she keeps coming to these meetings. All they do is remind her that the Starks will never truly be her family. All they do is highlight how much Father cares about social climbing. These meetings are painful and every week when she finally gets home and takes a shower and gets into her pajamas and climbs into bed, she sobs into her pillow for what could have been.

…

“You know the party's inside, right?”

Sansa startles out of her reverie and whirls around, heart pounding, to find Jon Snow standing behind her, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket.

It's Christmas and the snow is thick on the ground and she's shivering in the thin wrap that she came outside with, her coat in a closet where Mrs. Stark had taken it hours earlier.

“Are you allowed to be smoking?” she asks instead of answering and he laughs, pulling one out of the pack and placing it between his lips.

“I'm eighteen,” he shrugs, speaking around the cigarette dangling out of his mouth. His hands come up and he lights it, with one cupped around the end against the cold winter wind.

“I can't imagine Mrs. Stark approves of smoking,” she sniffs, then shakes her head no when Jon holds the pack out to her in offering. She watches his mouth twitch into a smile for a moment, like he knew she wouldn't take one, before putting the pack back in his coat pocket.

“Seems you don't approve, either.”

“Well, I am her daughter.” She says it and means it to be a joke, but the words come out soft and it wavers at the end.

Jon watches her for a moment, then unzips his coat and shrugs it off and holds it out to her and she stares at it blankly, her mind not processing the gesture. He shakes the coat, like he's insisting she take it and she finally does, slipping it on and then closing her eyes at the immediate warmth of it.

“I get it,” Jon says after a while, when he's halfway down to the filter, clouds of smoke drifting up into the night sky. “I mean, not exactly, I'm not sure there's anyone who can understand... you know-” he gestures at her. “But I get what's it's like - to be a Stark, but not. They practically raised me, but I'm not... I'll never actually be one of them.”

“I used to read fairytales,” she admits, turning her face from him because it's easier to talk into the dark, snow-covered landscape than him. “About secret princesses, and the king and queen were always so happy to have their daughter back. In the stories, there was never another princess who already took her place. Who fit in better.”

Alayne is a perfect Stark, she thinks. Over the months, she's seen it – how Alayne plays football and hockey with her brothers and sisters, makes jokes that Sansa would never. She's nothing like Sansa, who always preferred reading poetry to playing outside, with perfect manners and perfect posture. Cold and reserved. She wishes she were more like Alayne – more like a Stark.

She hears Jon sigh and take one last drag of the cigarette before he puts it out in the snow. “You're a lot like Cat, you know,” he says finally, and she feels something twist painfully in her chest. “And Bran. I mean, I don't know you that well, I guess, but...”

She shakes her head because he's wrong. She's nothing like any of the Starks (though she's not a Baelish, either). Jon sighs again, louder this time, with more annoyance.

“You are,” he insists, and she finally turns to face him again and opens her mouth to argue, but he gets there first. “You'd see it if you let yourself. If you actually tried. Cat's... Cat is trying so hard. You should see how she gets before you come over. Everyone is freaking out about it but you won't even try to get to know them. And I might not get how you feel, but Alayne? Have you even tried to talk to her?”

That painful twist in her chest tightens, it swoops down into her belly and up into her throat. “I am-”

“Like I said, I can't imagine how it feels, you know? And I'm sure it's a lot, and you're allowed to feel how you feel, but the Starks are... they want you here, I promise. But if you don't want to be, if you don't want them in your life, maybe this should all stop, cause it's hurting them and I think it's hurting you. Maybe we shouldn't be trying to force it if it's not what you want.”

Her mind is blank, she can't think of a single argument, though she wants to argue. She wants to say that Alayne hasn't tried talking to her, either. She wants to insist that she is trying, but... but she's not. Not really. She's holding herself at a distance, she's already decided she doesn't belong.

“What if they don't like me?” The words slip out of her, unbidden, her voice barely a whisper. It wavers in the dark. (Her deepest fear – that if she lets them get close to her, they'll decide she isn't worth it, that they don't want her.)

She's not sure what response she was expecting, but it's not for Jon to smile – he does, gives her a little half smile and raises his shoulders in a shrug. “I don't know you that well yet, but so far I like you just fine. And I'm not even a Stark.”

“You seem like a Stark,” she tells him, and watches something flicker across his face and she doesn't know him well enough yet to tell what it is.

“I'm not actually related,” he says, though she already knows this. “Not by blood or anything.” For a moment he brings his hand up to rub at the back of his neck and he suddenly won't look at her and she wonders if she said something wrong. “We should go back inside,” he seems to change the subject and she hesitates, but then he holds out his hand. After a moment, she takes it, and follows him back inside, out of the freezing night air and into the warmth of the house. In the distance, she can hear voices and laughter, she can smell the cinnamon and pine in the air.

She could get lost here, if she let herself.

“There you are,” Mrs. Stark looks up as they enter the kitchen, and Jon lets go of her hand. Mrs. Stark narrows her eyes at Jon, then looks at the back door, like she guesses what he was doing out there and doesn't approve.

“I'm uh...” Jon starts, looking between Mrs. Stark and her, “I should get back to the party.” Before he goes, he turns back to her and she remembers she's still in his coat and she hurriedly takes it off, feeling heat high up on her cheeks as she does. “Try,” he says, voice too low for Mrs. Stark to hear. Then he takes his coat and leaves the kitchen – leaves her in the kitchen. Alone. With Mrs. Stark.

“Are you having fun?” Mrs. Stark's voice is light, but there's something underneath, a hesitance.

“I am,” she says back, wondering if she should make some excuse and leave. Wondering if Mrs. Stark doesn't want to be here talking to her.

(Try.)

“I wanted to thank you for inviting me,” she blurts out, and Mrs. Stark looks at her sharply. “I had some of the pumpkin pie, it was really good.”

It's such a stupid, nonsense thing to say, but Mrs. Stark looks pleased.

“It's a family recipe,” Mrs. Stark says, and then – a bit of hesitation - “I could teach it to you, if you'd like.”

Sansa's breath catches in her throat and it takes her a moment to say, “I like baking.”

“So do I. I could never get Alayne or Arya into it.” Mrs. Stark says it with a fond smile and Sansa feels something break open inside of her and she realizes, she knows, that she wants this. She wants to know this family, she wants to be a part of it. She doesn't want to take Alayne's place, she never could, but she...

“You could teach me,” she whispers. “Sometime. I'd like that.”

“So would I,” Mrs St- her mother, says with a smile that lights up the room.

#ask #anon #prompt fic #jonsa #sort of #modern au #again #also sort of angsty #and i'm sorry

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itsmoonpeaches · 3 years

Note

TALKK ABOUT KATAANG 🥰

This helped to spurn a ficlet randomly, anon. You got me to talk about Kataang big time.

Golden Sunlight

Word count: 1,449

Read here on ao3.

"I'm sorry but...you're unable to bear any children," said the elderly head healer. She placed her wrinkled hands atop the trembling ones of the woman who sat in front of her on a rickety chair.

The words rang true, chilling the room. They prickled across Katara's skin, raising goosebumps on her bare arms. And suddenly, there was a fear that set in her chest. A fear so profound that it permeated into her heart.

She watched as the tears cascaded down the woman's cheeks, as her husband patted her back and held her.

The water on her hands dropped back into the bowl at her feet, making a splash. She had done what she could. The head healer had told her so. They all had. The woman had been stricken with illness for some time, and it had rendered her infertile.

"Lian, my dear, you must rest," said the head healer, pressing her hands onto the woman's shoulders now. "Your family will care for you. I promise this."

The early evening set in as the shadows in the women's clinic elongated into swathes of dark gray. A heaviness set on her shoulders, a stone balancing on each one. Heavier and heavier, like every step she took added to the weight.

She had tried to heal women like this before. It was no secret that there was sometimes that kind of deep desperation a hopeful mother felt to conceive, even when in the face of it all the evidence pointed to the fact that they could not.

In a world where in many cultures men still ruled, sometimes the only thing a woman of any status could control was the size of her family.

But it was more than that. More, not just for the women she treated at the clinic in Ba Sing Se, but for the partners that they loved.

For many that came to them and asked Katara for her healing prowess, it was about that. "Please, Master Katara, help me fix this," some would say. "Please, I want a child."

The first thing she was taught by Yagoda at the healing huts was that a healer must not do harm. The second thing she was taught was to keep her heart at a distance, for getting too close to a patient was akin to standing in the middle of a raging typhoon and allowing it to batter you.

Lian had come to them, hunched over, and clutching her abdomen. She had come to them sick with an infection that tore through her and for weeks as they tried to stabilize her the concern for infertility grew.

She was a kind woman, a good one. She always spoke of wanting to start a family, how she dreamed of a little girl with whom she could embroider, and a little boy who would cause trouble for his sister.

Lian came from a poor household but was lucky to have a caring husband who was a farmer in the Outer Ring. He brought Katara millet porridge every other day that he had cooked himself. "Thank you," he had said, "You are saving my Lian."

But, though Katara had saved her life, she had not saved what Lian wanted the most.

The sadness and weight made Katara shake as she bowed low to Lian and apologized. She was out the door in minutes. Her boots skidded across the cobblestones, kicking up the dust and hay of the streets as the sun set behind the cluster of buildings.

She turned a corner. A child was playing with another, laughing as they kicked a feathered shuttlecock into the air. Her stomach turned. Tears pricked at her eyes. She clutched at her middle.

The thoughts swirled around her.

What if...?

What if she couldn't have children too?

She grasped at her wrist, at the bracelet that Aang had woven for her a year ago. "Wouldn't it be nice if we could spend the rest of our lives together?" he had asked her months ago as they traveled to the Southern Water Tribe for the winter solstice festival. "Wouldn't it be nice if we could have a family together? Just you and me. Like it's always been."

She and Aang had been married for three months now, and the thought was that they would start when it was time. It would be organic, they had promised, with none of the pressures that the world already put on both of them.

Politicians wanted the Avatar, waterbenders wanted a teacher. The world wanted airbenders.

After seeing Lian, Katara was suddenly so afraid that she would not be able to give anyone that.

The door clicked open, and she stumbled inside the apartments that the Earth King had given to them for visits they made to the city. A light flickered from the room across the hall.

Katara barely removed her boots before she swayed from wall to wall, pushing against them until she made it to the cracked door.

Aang was inside the room that they used as an office, skimming over scrolls with half-lidded eyes. Her heart both swelled and clenched at the sight of him.

She let out a strangled gasp.

Aang stiffened in his seat, then turned to her with wide, worried eyes. He stood up immediately, shoving the chair aside so that it was easier for him to meet her.

"Katara," he whispered, "What's wrong?"

The words did not leave her mouth. They were caught, choking her, begging to bubble up and out.

“What’s wrong?” he repeated.

All she could see was an empty room with empty halls, the dream that was theirs fading into the distance. She wanted that void to be filled. She wanted a child, his child. She wanted to have the happy family neither of them were allowed to have. This was something she hoped the war would not take from them too.

And then there was Lian. Lian who had gotten sick, who had wanted the same thing she wanted, who was so optimistic now that the world was peaceful that she could create something new.

“What if I can’t have a child, Aang?” Katara murmured.

Aang caught her then, arms tightening around her torso. The smell of sandalwood was soft against her nose.

“What brought this on?”

She shook her head. She merely explained in vague detail. “I’ve seen so many women beg for help that I couldn’t give them. What if that’s me too? What if…not having enough to eat growing up because of the war made me infertile? I’ve seen too many of those women. I could be one of them.”

“Katara,” Aang breathed, brushing away the locks of her hair. “Don’t worry.”

She looked into his eyes and something within her broke. She felt her face crumple as she stared at him. “What if I can’t be the person that can give you your people back? You’ll be all alone and—”

Aang pressed his lips to her forehead that made her stop.

“I won’t be alone,” he said simply. “I have you.”

“But—”

He kissed her cheek this time. It was a gentle touch. “It doesn’t matter, Katara,” he continued. “It’s no use worrying about things that we’re not sure of…and even if the unimaginable happens, it doesn’t mean that we can’t work through things together. Besides, the world always balances itself out. That’s the way it is. If the airbenders are meant to come back through us, or through some other way, that’s what will happen.”

“The next Avatar,” she started, sniffling as he thumbed away her tears, “how will they learn airbending?”

Aang smiled and something within her fluttered. “Once an airbender, always an airbender,” he replied.

She could not help it. She smiled too. It was such a ridiculous thing for him to say, but perhaps that was why he said it.

His hands were on her skin, and the palms of them burned on her arms as he held her. She leaned forward, moving to repay him with another kiss, and the candlelight fizzled out in favor of the light of the moon.

There would be talks in the future and judgements to be made. People would accuse them of being selfish, and others would ask that Aang remarry.

Neither of them would waver.

In the years that came, in the nights that followed, as the sheets tangled in between them and they wished for the children they prayed for, it would be that prayer that would keep them going. It would be Aang that looked on into the golden sunlight after hours with a grin on his face, the cry of a newborn wailing.

ao3 || ko-fi

#ask #anon #kataang #kataangtag #katara #aang #itsmoonpeaches ficlet #ficlet #fanfic #atla fanfic #avatar #avatar the last airbender

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lucyintheskywithxanax · 4 years

Text

Betelgeuse Above The Horizon

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Fem Reader

Request: “don’t cry” and “this is all my fault” for delia x reader?

Summary: reader comforts Cordelia after she failed to rescue Queenie from the Cortez

A/N: thank you to the anon who requested this <3 I hope you’ll like it. No warnings ; this is your typical hurt/comfort fic

Word count: ~ 3 000

You closed the back door behind you as gently as you could. It was a hot summer night, and most of the girls slept with their windows open. No one liked to be awakened at 2:30 am.

You looked up at the clear sky and flashed a wistful smile at the stars. The moon had set half an hour ago and there was a perfect spot behind the greenhouse that blocked most of the city lights. You walked quickly, the cool grass tickling your bare feet, clutching a pillow to your chest.

You had been suffering from insomnia for the past couple years. Some nights were fine, but there were others when thoughts would keep buzzing and buzzing in your head and sleep would elude you entirely. So on those nights, you had taken to study the stars.

It was beautiful, looking up at the darkest time of night to see the twinkling, jeweled immensity of the sky. It soothed your heart.

You had barely got any sleep in the past week. Too many thoughts. Most of them were about Cordelia. Yet again tonight you had lain in your bed turning and tossing and seeing her face behind your eyelids, remembering something she had said to you today, or how close her hand had been to yours when she had put her empty glass in the sink. You were falling hard for your Supreme and it was driving you crazy.

You had contemplated making a move a few days ago, but rather quite abruptly changed your mind. For Cordelia had come back alone from the Hotel Cortez.

She had been gone longer than expected. When one of the girls came into your room to tell you Miss Cordelia was finally home, you all but ran downstairs to welcome her. When you reached the landing of the stairs it dawned on you that the girl had not mentioned Queenie. A feeling of dread settled in your chest, and expanded when you took one look at Cordelia. Her shoulders were slumped, her face pale and sad. She looked so exhausted you were afraid she might collapse where she stood, so you rushed to her and laid one hand on her shoulder for support and comfort. She met your gaze briefly, and your heart broke at the sadness and shame you could see in her eyes.

Cordelia was always so strong. So brave and so powerful. She was the last light to shine when everything else had succumbed to darkness. To see her look so defeated did not only sadden you; it felt terribly wrong.

Zoe walked in with a bright smile on her face and sang, “Welcome back Queenie!” She had meant no harm, of course, had not yet realized. Cordelia’s face fell, and so did Zoe’s. Your grip on Cordelia’s arm tightened.

Cordelia lowered her eyes. Her chin trembled. Then she glanced back up at Zoe, eyes watering, and shook her head.

She did not say much, merely asked if she was needed for anything before she announced she had sleep to catch up on. You followed her up to her room without thinking, stopped awkwardly in her doorway. She turned back to look at you, patiently waiting, and your heart broke again at the sadness that was her smile.

“Er, is there anything I can do… ?”

She shook her head. Her hair was duller than usual and looked thinner around her tired face.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You clutched your pillow tighter as you walked along the greenhouse, and sighed. There had been a constant, dull ache in your heart ever since Cordelia’s return, that you could not get rid of. It tinted everything you did, thought and felt, covered the world in a clear, grey light like the light in winter and lent it sadness. You flashed another wistful smile at the stars.

You rounded the corner of the greenhouse and suddenly stopped. A light was on, and you could just see the shape of a woman sitting among the plants. You heard a voice, too, a faint mumble, and a few notes of mellow jazz music.

You hesitated, stroking your chin on the top of the pillow as you stared at the shape. It was barely visible, but your heart recognized it.

You set the pillow down by the door and walked into the greenhouse.

Cordelia raised her head at the sound of your footsteps. Her eyes were red as if she had been crying. You offered her a smile as you walked up to her.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey there.” The smile she gave you in return had none of its usual warmth. If anything, it made her look sadder still. “You’re up late.”

You shrugged. “So are you.”

She was leaning over a green plant in a pot, her fingers distractedly stroking one of the long drooping leaves. You gestured towards it.

“What’s this?”

Cordelia took a long time to answer. “A friend of mine once told me she thought those leaves have healing properties. That they could soothe, any kind of ache.” She paused, swallowed. When she spoke again her voice was higher and trembling slightly. “I tried brewing them in multiple ways, but all I can make out of them is bad tea.”

“Um,” was all you could answer. The sadness in her voice was like a slap in your face. Again it hit you, how wrong it was, how terribly wrong it felt. Shame and defeat should never have anything to do with Cordelia.

You dug your fingers in your arm to stop yourself from pulling her into your arms.

“It’s too bad that friend of mine isn’t here anymore,” Cordelia went on. Her hand tugged at the leaf, so hard you thought it would tear. “Misty, was her name.”

“Where is she?” you asked carefully.

Cordelia lifted her head as she gave a sad, almost cruel, little laugh. Her eyes briefly met yours, big and dark and lost.

“Why, she’s dead. Another girl I couldn’t save.” Cordelia slammed her hands on the table, making you jump. “Another girl I failed. You know, sometimes I do believe my mother was right about me. She would have been able to save them. I know she would.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, watching her, at a loss for what to do or say to comfort her. She was your strong rock, she had always been so. Now all you could do was stand still as your heart clenched for her and your brain grappled with words.

Cordelia closed her eyes, forced herself to take a deep breath. She opened her eyes again and gave you another sad smile. A tear rolled down her cheek, which she quickly wiped with shaky fingers.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a sad laugh.

Before you knew it, your hand was extending towards her.

“Come on,” you said. “Come with me.”

Cordelia’s eyes widened in surprise. She looked like she was about to protest, but then her hand slipped into yours. You gave her fingers a squeeze, the warmth of her skin spreading all the way to your heart and head.

You shut the light in the greenhouse, led Cordelia out and into the starry night. The air outside smelt of grass and of that distinctive, earthly smell that always comes with summer.

You picked up the pillow, and led Cordelia to your usual stargazing spot.

“You know what I do when I can’t sleep?” you asked in a whisper.

You dropped the pillow, gestured for Cordelia to sit down. In the dark her hair glowed faintly. There was a glint of light from the stars in her eyes.

“I watch the constellations.” You smiled, not sure she’d see it, but knowing she would hear it in your voice. “I’ve become quite good at finding them. I could tell you.”

There was a pause, silence only broken by the fastening beat of your heart in your ears. The darkness seemed to have sharpened your senses, for you could feel Cordelia’s presence as if it were hugging your soul.

You waited nervously, until finally came her answer: “I’d love to.”

You beamed.

“Ok ok,” you said, “lie down, use the pillow for your head.”

You lay side by side on the grass. It tickled your neck and ears, and you had to readjust your position several times until you were satisfied. Your arm touched Cordelia’s. You contemplated removing it, chose not to. Cordelia did not move either.

As children do, you pointed out constellations to her, trying to give precise directions but failing miserably. The tightness in your throat relaxed when Cordelia, unable to find Capella, finally let out a genuine laugh.

The touch of her skin against yours was like a fire in your arm, but a fire that causes no pain, only brings warmth.

“Scorpius is my favourite,” you said, tracing your finger over it. “Especially when it’s so close to the horizon. It looks like the tail of a giant animal hiding behind the Earth.”

Cordelia laughed again. You heard something move, and then felt the warmth of Cordelia’s fingers as they laced with yours. Sparks flew to your head, and your heart purred.

“I didn’t know you were so well versed in astronomy,” Cordelia whispered. “You put your own Supreme’s knowledge to shame.”

You didn’t miss the bitterness in her words, the way her voice wavered slightly at the end of her sentence. You gave her hand a squeeze, and moved your arm so that more of your skin was touching hers. Something warm fizzed in your stomach.

“You know what?” you said suddenly, without thinking. “In all my time of stargazing, I found you in the sky.” You pointed across the sky from Scorpius. “See Orion here? See the bright orange star on the left? That’s Betelgeuse. That’s you.”

Cordelia scoffed sadly. She raised her free hand to wipe her cheek.

“You’re the arm that raises Orion’s weapon,” you told her, a soft, dreamy smile tugging at your lips, “one of the biggest stars we know of, and the day you turn into a supernova – which will only be in a few thousand years, a blink of the eye, mind you – you’ll be visible from Earth even by day. You’ll shine in our sky and everyone will look up at you in wonder.”

There was a pause, as you absentmindedly stroke your thumb over Cordelia’s and grinned at the star, and then a sob burst out of Cordelia, low and painful. You turned to her quickly in confusion.

“Oh, no, no,” you mumbled, propping yourself up on your elbow, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean – oh, please don’t cry.”

Cordelia was swiping at her eyes urgently, probably unwilling to let you, one of her girls, see her in that vulnerable state, but the tears were coming too fast, and her shoulders were shaking with sobs.

That was the last straw. Before you knew it, you had scooted over and she was in your arms, one of your hands coming to rest on her back, the other one running gently in her hair. She didn’t protest, and hid her face in the crook of your neck.

“Poor Queenie,” you heard her say. She wasn’t trying to control herself anymore: her voice came out weak and broken, heavy with guilt. It made tears pool in your own eyes. “She trusted me to get her out of that horrible, satanic hotel. She looked so relieved to see me, so confident, and I… I failed her,” she finished in a breath. You felt her tears on your skin and held her tighter.

“Now she’s trapped for eternity, just as Misty is, because I was too weak to save them. I can – “ She choked on a sob, let out a pitiful wail that clawed at your heart. “I can f-feel their despair and anguish and it’s all my fault.”

“Hold on, no.” You pulled away a bit too abruptly to look at her, and cupped her face. Her skin was wet and hot under your fingers. It took all of your self-control not to kiss it dry.

When you spoke, your voice was firm and verging on angry. “Now you listen to me. None of it was your fault. Bad things happen all the time, and sometimes they simply cannot be fixed.” You paused to take a breath, stroked your thumb over her cheekbone and caught another tear. “You cannot save everyone, Cordelia. It already means so much that you try.”

“But I – “ Cordelia started. You cut her off.

“And your mother, Cordelia, your mother.” In the dark you rolled your eyes and winced. “I didn’t get to know her, but from what I’ve heard she wouldn’t even have tried to save any of them. She wouldn’t even have cared. “

Again, Cordelia’s mouth opened to protest, but you had had enough. So, without thinking, you leaned in and kissed her silent.

It was nothing more than a peck, a mere touching of lips, but it felt better and sweeter than any kiss you had ever given. You pulled away, baffled by your own action, to blink at Cordelia. Her eyes were wide, mouth slightly opened. It seemed to you she had stopped breathing.

“I – “ you started, but words vanished from your brain.

Cordelia blinked. Another tear rolled down her cheek. You leaned in again, kissed it away. Her skin was soft and warm and smelt like summer.

Slowly, Cordelia tilted her head until her mouth met yours

It seemed to you the world had stopped turning. The stars had frozen in the sky and held their breaths as they watched.

You pressed closer into Cordelia, one of your hands coming down to grip at her arm, the other cupping her cheek, wiping the tears that were still clinging to her skin. Her lips were soft and wet and more intoxicating than the most intoxicating of wines. It made your head spin. Or maybe it was just the world, which had started turning again.

When Cordelia broke the kiss, you kept your eyes closed for a few seconds, savouring the taste of her still on your lips. Afraid you would open your eyes and find her gone. That had happened so many times before when you had awakened from dreams.

But here she was, her hair a faint halo in the dark, her eyes bigger than the sky, and oh, how your heart swelled when her lips curled up into a soft, fond smile.

You cleared your throat. “Well,” you said, your voice husky. “That was unexpected.”

Cordelia chuckled. She bit her lip, raising one hand to touch your face.

“I’m glad you couldn’t sleep,” she whispered.

“Um.” You kissed her palm. “Me too.”

For a while you kept silent, staring into each other’s eyes, a goofy smile on both your faces. And then Cordelia’s smile flickered, and here was that sadness again, clouding her eyes.

“Hey,” you whispered, lifting one hand and running the pad of your index over her brow. You leaned in and kissed it until the creases of worry disappeared. You cupped her cheek and smiled at her. “It’ll be okay. None of this pain will last.”

For a moment Cordelia just stared at you, and then she gave one almost imperceptible nod. One of her hands slipped behind your neck to pull you close and plant soft, chaste kisses on your lips. Again, the stars held their breaths. From somewhere far away came the sound of fireworks, or maybe it was just your heart celebrating. Cordelia nibbled at your lower lip and gently licked it, her tongue hot and wet, and she released a breath through her nose that tickled your cheek and sent tingles down your spine.

She closed her eyes and rested her head on the pillow, and you lay yours on her chest, humming contentedly as you listened to her heartbeat. Around you all was quiet. One of Cordelia’s hands absently ran through your hair.

“I’ll visit her once in a while,” Cordelia whispered. “Queenie. To make sure she’s okay, and that there’s nothing more I can do.”

You hummed. “I’ll come with you if you’ll have me.”

Your eyelids were getting heavy with sleep. You pressed your nose against Cordelia’s chest, breathing her in.

“We should stay here and watch the sun rise,” you mumbled after a while.

Cordelia dropped a kiss on your forehead. You kissed her chest in return.

“Even though I may fall asleep,” you added.

She chuckled. “That’s alright. I’ll wake you.”

You lifted your head to look at her. She was staring at Betelgeuse, and she must have felt your gaze, for she tilted her head to meet your eyes. Slowly, like the sun or the moon rising, her soft, warm, glorious smile crept up her lips and chased the sadness from her eyes.

“Here we go,” you grinned, reaching out to caress the corner of her mouth. You propped yourself up and kissed her. “No more tears tonight. Let me love you under the stars.”

#ahs imagines #ahs #sarah pauslon x reader #cordelia goode x reader #cordelia foxx x reader #sarah paulson #cordelia goode #cordelia foxx #fics

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imagine-that-100 · 4 years

Text

The Shirt

Description: Alex Turner x Reader (Female) | There’s a debate about if you’re wearing Alex’s shirt. Except it’s not really a debate. Everyone knows the answer.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: This was requested by an Anon, and I really hope you enjoy it. This shirt is definitely one of my all time faves on Alex so I couldn’t not use this one when the request came through. Please someone tell me that you agree that this shirt is beautiful on him. Likes and Reblogs are appreciated and I really hope you all enjoy xx

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“Is that Alex’s shirt?” Your best friend asks you curiously after eyeing it up for a while.

It didn’t fit your frame correctly at all. The seam where the shoulders should have ended was resting on the tops of your arms a good 2 inches away from where it should be. You’d tucked it into your black jeans and you’d made the material look even baggier on you.

The roses, that your best friend assumed were meant to lay over the wearers collar bones, were resting on the tops of your boobs and the black shirt was unbuttoned enough to show a little bit of your cleavage off.

Your best friend thought you looked stunning, you made it your own. But there was no way it was yours.

“No” You say as you look down at the black material that covers the top half of your body.

Your best friend frowns at you over her coffee, “Well it’s not yours...”

“It is” You nod before picking up your own coffee and taking another sip.

You’d come out to meet her for a coffee as you did every year in the days after Christmas. The boxing day sales were still on and every year you went to the same cafe and sat at the same table and had the same coffee.

You both loved it and today you’d been out and got loads of stuff. Both of your wardrobes consisted mostly of black and red as it fit your aesthetic but you did both try and get a few different coloured things this year.

But you both came out with your fair share of black and red again.

“I’ve literally seen him in that shirt on stage.” Y/B/F grins at you still denying it. “What the fuck are you on about? It's not yours”

It was the shirt with the roses on it. Your best friend was sure it could be googled and it would come up straight away, but you were stubborn about it.

You lean forward to emphasise your point, “I'm telling you right now, it is not Alex’s shirt”

“I’ll believe that when I believe he doesn’t think about you when he sings You’re So Dark” She grins and you sit back laughing.

The stuff about the shirt didn’t stop a few hours later either. You both go back to hers and Matt’s house as you had a later Christmas present that arrived in the post this morning for him.

After arriving and pleasantries were exchanged, you sat down and gave him his other present after he’d made the three of you a drink. But after the gift was open and his eyes weren’t distracted, he noticed your attire.

“Why are you wearing Alex’s shirt?” Matt asked you, frowning at you a little but there was amusement in his eyes.

Y/B/F burst out laughing and you immediately rolled your eyes whilst you swallowed the mouthful of your drink. Once the liquid travels down your throat you shake your head, “It’s not Alex’s”

“It literally is” Y/B/F giggles, sitting herself down next to Matt.

You say with wide eyes, as if it will help persuade them more, “I guarantee you it’s not”

“Y/N I bought it him for his birthday years ago” Matt tells you blankly and you want to wipe the smug look off his face.

“That means nothing” You say, not wavering from your previous statements, “I could have bought the same one before I even got with him. You wouldn’t know that”

Matt holds his hands up at you but then points towards himself, “Are you really denying you're wearing Alex’s shirt? To me?”

“Yes” You say with a pointed look, “Because I’m not wearing Alex’s shirt.”

Matt and your best friend share an amused look before he looks back to you and shrugs, “Whatever you say.”

Later on, you get back home and you find that Alex isn’t home yet. He said this morning that he was going to see his Mum and Dad again whilst you were out with your best friend so you didn’t bother him with a phone call asking when he’d be back.

You decided to cook your dinner for later on as you knew you both wouldn’t want to eat until later on. But first of all you got changed.

Well, getting changed would involve you getting out of your clothes and putting other clothes on. You just stripped out of most of the clothes you had on.

So much so that when Alex walked in a few hours later, he found you sat on the settee in just a shirt. Initially he walked in and he could only see the back of your head as you were watching the TV and the entrance to your lounge was behind the settee.

When Alex walked in he got your attention with a ‘hey’, you lent your head back so it rested on the settee and said your ‘hello’ back to him.

Alex smiles and walks to the back of the sofa so he can lean down to kiss you. You smile into the small kiss when he does and you ask him how his family were even though you had a fair idea as you’d only seen them a few days ago.

Alex is in the middle of telling you all of his family were fine when he notices that your legs were bare and that you were wearing his old shirt. He walks around the settee so he can see you properly but he was certain the roses gave away that that was his black shirt.

“Are you wearing my shirt?” Alex asks you curiously.

You shake your head and softly say, “No.”

“Y/N...” Alex laughs, “That is literally my shirt.”

You tilt your head to the side and correct him, “You mean our shirt?”

“Our shirt?” Alex laughs, raising his eyebrows as he sits himself down on the arm of the settee.

“Yes.” You grin up at him.

Alex looks you up and down and corrects himself, “So you're wearing our shirt?”

“I am.” You grin.

“Why is that, love? And why is it no longer my shirt?” Alex asks you and when you get yourself up on your feet to walk over to him, you hold up two fingers at him.

“One...” You start, holding up a finger, “Because it's really comfy and it smells like you” You grin, walking closer before holding up another finger, “And two, because sharing is caring”

Alex smirks a little as you speak but he can’t help but look at you in his shirt like that. It comes down to the top of your thighs and his eyes can't help but roam. You look stunning.

Alex smirks a little as he looks at you and when you stop between his legs his hands rest on your hips as yours go around his waist, “Oh right, I see”

You chuckle a little and press a kiss to his lips before you hug him. As you hug him, Alex holds your hips a little tighter and he kisses your cheek, and then your neck, and he places a kiss on the material that sits on your shoulder.

“So tell me something…” Alex says once you pull away a little from the hug. You smile and you nod for him to carry on.

Alex asks you, “If it's ours why does it only smell like me?”

When Alex kissed your shoulder just then he could still smell his aftershave on it and you even said just a minute ago that it smelled like him. So like your relationship always had been full of, he decided to carry on the teasing.

You grin at him and explain, “Because that's how it works in a fifty fifty relationship like ours is.”

Alex grins at you as you carry on to explain, “You let me wear your clothes... And I wear absolutely nothing underneath.”

The way a smirk twitched up onto Alex’s face then made you giggle. And Alex wasted no time attaching his lips to yours and getting the shared shirt off your body.

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You can add yourself to my Taglists in my Masterlist x

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