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oddinary4bts · 2 months

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Chasing Cars | ch 13 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: college anxiety, angst, Gabrielle, Lisa, alcohol, cursing, mentions of cheating, a frat party, explicit content: implied sex

☆word count: 8.9k

☆a/n: more angst oop- I hope you guys like it :') thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, August 30

Summer came and went. Like everything in life, it became just a moment in time, a short movie consisting of flashing scenes of friendship and fun and sun, of pools and tanning and hikes. Summer was perfect, summer was healing, yet summer couldn’t heal everything.

Summer hasn’t healed a doe-eyed boy from your heart, but you think it’s okay. You think, perhaps your love for Jungkook is just everlasting, another one of those memories you know you’ll cherish for the rest of your life.

You reckon, if you were to have kids one day and they’d asked you who your first love was, you wouldn’t be able to answer their father.

It will always be Jungkook, no matter the bitterness and the pain of the ending.

It’s his necklace you wear on your heart every day after all.

You’ve worked all summer, amassing money to cover your expenses for the year. You’ve gone back home with Taehyung for a week your mother had off, and you spent it camping like you did when you were kids, gaze getting lost in starlight and sun rays on the water, reflections of light that left afterimages on your retina.

Much like Jungkook is an afterimage on your heart. Never fully erased, yet the pain isn’t as sharp anymore. Like the time soothed its edges, reminding you of the good part, allowing you to let go of the bad.

The first news you had of Jungkook this summer was stories posted on a Saturday evening, of him and Lisa and friends in New York City. Turns out Lisa landed an internship at an architect firm in New York through her father’s connections, and turns out it was all she needed to be welcomed into Jeon Jungkook’s world over there.

You’d been jealous back then, bitterly so. Yoongi, bless his heart, had forced you to hang out at his place, claiming the empty room needed to be repainted before Namjoon moved in for the semester. It’d been a good distraction, and by the end of the weekend, you’d realized that Jungkook was allowed to have friends, to move on from your idyllic moment in his life.

It hurt, but it was a sign of healing.

You got closer to Yoongi over the summer. Learned all about his past, about his high school and how his parents were supportive when he came out, yet reluctant when he brought his first boy home. He’d told you how he met Hoseok in his last year of high school despite not attending the same school, and how their friendship had immediately blossomed.

Only to wither in April, when Hoseok had chosen to leave. None of you or your friends have had any news of him since then, like he wiped his existence from all of your lives like it was nothing. It’s been hard for Yoongi, harshly so, so you’ve made sure to always be available for him, too.

Namjoon and Nabi’s relationship didn’t suffer such a fate. They’ve only been growing stronger over the summer, proof that despite Namjoon getting out of his relationship with his ex and jumping in the one with Nabi right away, they were meant for each other. In truth, you’ve never seen anyone love each other like Namjoon and Nabi do, and maybe that most of all has healed your bleeding heart.

There has to be someone out there who’ll love you like you’re the one who paints his every sunset.

Seokjin wasn’t on the receiving end of such a relationship. He’d confessed to Ria halfway through the summer, telling her that he couldn’t do the see-saw anymore, that he needed everything or nothing, and in good Ria fashion, your friend ran. She ran and ran, until Seokjin told her he was ashamed of having believed she deserved to be loved.

The blow has been hard on Ria, and she hasn’t been with anyone since then. Hasn’t mentioned Seokjin once either, but you know that, whenever you go out, he’s the one she’s looking for.

The strangest part of this summer happened on a random Tuesday evening when you’d just come home from work. Taehyung and Ariane, ever so the lovebirds, had been hanging out in the living room when you’d crossed the threshold. Taehyung’s gaze had shot to you, and he’d uttered words you think have been carved into your brain.

“Did you know Jungkook is the heir of JJS pharmaceuticals?”

You did. You knew about his father’s company - he’d told you once when you’d been lying with your head on his chest, one of the rare times he’d talked about his family after your weekend escapade to New York.

But you knew Jungkook’s existence had been mostly a secret, his father refusing to announce his existence to the world because Jungkook had refused to study at an Ivy League College.

At the confusion on your face - or rather, the masked pain you’d been hiding for weeks and months - Taehyung had added, “There was a conference press, and he’s all over social media.”

He was. You found out quickly enough, articles and articles about him showing up on your Instagram as well. You’d seen pictures from the press conference: though his father had been smiling wide, Jungkook had only been staring at the camera, like he’d wished he could disappear.

You don’t know what led him to accept a position at his father’s company before he’d even graduated, but you knew then and know now that it had to not have been his choice.

So indeed, summer came and went until it became just a memory, and the new semester now looms over the horizon, a reminder that though your skin might have been sunkissed these last few months, it’s now time to return to reality.

You’re sitting in the kitchen, indulging in Buldak noodles as you read a book about Faes and High Lords and a Night Court. You’ve started reading again over the summer, another way to escape that helped fill your breaks at work when you didn’t go out for lunch with your coworkers. It was nice to reconnect with your previous love for reading - indeed, you’d spent years in middle school and high school getting lost in fantasy and dystopian worlds, and recovering this part of you might have been another way to heal.

It’s reminded you that every story is worth telling, even those that don’t end well.

So you sit at the kitchen table, halfway done with your noodles, when the front door opens and closes.

“Hello!” you greet out of reflex.

Taehyung and Ariane were out shopping for groceries, and though they haven’t left a long time ago, you assume it’s them coming home.

“Do you need any help?” you ask as no one replies, which is strange.

They’re always talking about everything and nothing, joking around like they’re the only people in the world. It’s something you do find cute, but that always grates your nerves in all the wrong ways.

Where Nabi and Namjoon have been making you feel hopeful when it comes to love, Taehyung and Ria have made you jaded too.

The silence prolongs, and you don’t even hear them taking off their shoes. You furrow your brows, wondering if they’re trying to prank you. So you put your book down even though you are in the middle of a good scene, and you push up from the table, heading towards the kitchen’s doorway.

You reckon, maybe you should have expected it. You’d known he was coming back at some point - he still has a year left of college. But you didn’t think he’d show up on an early Friday evening, clutching his duffel bag and standing by the door like he’s a guest in his own home.

He’s changed. The first thing you notice is that he’s changed: he doesn’t have the eyebrow piercing anymore, his hair is shorter - almost entirely shaved at the sides - and though he still has the lip piercings, he looks different than what you remember.

As if a few months was enough to blur your memories of Jeon Jungkook, and the wound you’d thought to be healed over the last few months reopens, pouring liquid lava on your entire body until you think you’re burning, and not in a good way.

He’s dressed in all black, like some things don’t change after all. He looks more built than he was last semester, like he’s gone to the gym a lot more over the summer. His tattoos have also changed - they’ve been coloured, some of them, as if he tried to put colours back into his life.

You hope it worked. But when you hold his gaze, the heaviness making you want to disappear through the floor, you think maybe it didn’t work at all.

“Y/n,” he greets.

His voice has changed too. Or maybe it’s just the emotions, maybe it’s just the fact that the last thing he ever told you were those words in the letter you keep hidden in your night table, words you’ve romanticized every night trying to fall asleep.

Not that you would tell anyone.

“Jungkook,” you reply in the same tone.

He nods once, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and then he takes off his shoes. You watch him, dumbly standing in the doorway, and he shoots you a look once his shoes - black boots that look far too warm for the summer - are off.

“How are you?”

His three words throw you off. They make you feel like last semester might have been a construct of your imagination, but then again you hold that letter too dearly, and the memories of him have been your favourites for months now.

“I’m okay,” you reply, nodding once. “How are you?”

He pulls on his piercings, the gesture familiar yet so different than how you’ve been imagining it every night. “I’m chill.”

He starts to walk towards his room, but he stops halfway there, glancing over your head into the kitchen.

“Want something to eat?” you ask, and you wonder if he hears your heart as it picks up in your chest.

You see the moment he spies the Buldak noodles on the table. He smiles softly, with his eyes first, and you think maybe this is it.

Maybe he came back home.

Came back home to you.

But then his features fall, the smile vanishing and darkness invading his gaze. He shakes his head no, nodding towards his room. “Thanks, but I gotta unpack.”

You watch him walk the rest of the way towards his bedroom. He turns the knob, pushes the door open, yet he freezes there. His shoulders tense, and even though you don’t see his features, you know he wants to say something else.

You hope he will, hope he’ll say something that might mend the bridge between the two of you. That might erase this abyss between you and him until the ending disappears.

You know it’s because you haven’t seen him in a long time. Know that, when it all comes down to it, you wouldn’t go back to him - he broke your heart, and you’d be a fool to return to him. But you like to imagine that you would as he stands there, that you’d run to him if he turned and said the right words.

But he doesn’t. He sighs, and then he walks into his room, shutting the door softly behind him. And as he disappears from view, you feel yourself stumble, like you’ve taken a hit right to the chest. You lay a hand over your beating heart, almost expecting to feel blood trickling through your fingers.

As if he’s just broken your heart all over again, torn it from your ribcage. Yet it breaks - you didn’t think he still had that power over you.

Hell, you thought you’d been moving on.

You walk back into the kitchen, the room spinning around you. You drop in the chair you were sitting in before, eyeing your book. And though you want to get lost in the fantasy world again, you’re bleeding out on your chair, pain burning along every single one of your nerves.

How are you supposed to share a roof with the one that broke your heart?

The answer is easy. You can’t.

You need to get out of here, and quickly.

Monday, September 2nd

Your first day back to college is long. You’ve got two classes - a morning and an afternoon class, both of them three hours long.

When the second one ends - luckily half an hour early ‘because it’s the first day’ as the professor said - you make your way out of class with Nabi. She’s typing away on her phone, likely asking Namjoon when he’ll be home, yet she follows you as you head to the dorms.

You’ve been crashing at the girls’ dorm over the weekend, as you try to figure out what you should do. You haven’t figured anything yet - Taehyung’s been telling you that you shouldn’t move out, asking if it’s because of Ariane moving in, and though you’ve been good at avoiding mentioning Jungkook, there’s just so much you can do before you burst and admit that it’s because of him.

But it’s okay - Nabi’s been staying with Yoongi and Namjoon, so you have her bed all to yourself, and Ria and you have been treating it like a massive sleepover, doing face masks every night and getting mildly drunk on Saturday.

Nabi sighs as you walk towards the dorms, and you throw her a look.

“What’s wrong?”

“I feel like this semester is about to be the worst,” she admits, slightly shaking her head. “Namjoon basically confirmed it.”

You hook your arm with hers, resting your head on her shoulder. “Baby, it’s fine. We’re in this together.”

“It’s easy for you to say, you’re the top of our class.”

“And you’re the second,” you remind her. “We’ll be okay, I promise.”

She nods, heaving out a heavy breath again. “Is it bad that I’m already anxious?”

You don’t reply right away, as you pass through a group of engineer students gathered in front of a class, most likely getting ready for an evening class. An evening class on the first Monday…

You feel bad for them.

“It’s not bad,” you reply once you’ve finally walked past. “It means that you care about your grades. You just need to not let it eat you alive.”

“I think I’m just realizing that getting into med school might be harder than we thought,” she says with a sigh.

You stop, tugging on her arm so that she stops too. “No, I’m not having any of that,” you tell her. “We’ll both get in, Nabi, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, folding her arms on her chest.

“Yup.” You nod forcefully. “Dead serious. And after that, it’s smooth sailing until residency. And then we get a residency together, and we become sexy doctors.”

“Bruh,” she lets out, and she chuckles.

You’re happy your distraction works because you truthfully didn’t know where you were headed with it. “I promise!” you insist. “Give us a couple of years, and we’ll have our own practice.”

“You want to be a surgeon, and I want to be an ophthalmologist,” she reminds you. “Not quite sure we’d practice at the same place.”

You shrug, and you start walking towards the dorms again. “To be fair, we’ll probably both end up at a hospital. We just need to find a way to work at the same one.”

She purses her lips. “That sounds doable.”

You smirk mischievously. “Damn right.”

*****

Nabi ends up staying with you and Ria at the dorm for a couple of hours after class, and you order takeout that you eat sitting in a circle on the floor like you usually do when you do pre-drinks before a party. It’s fun, more chill than a pre-party gathering, and Ria tells you all about how she ran into Seokjin on campus today.

“He didn’t even look at me,” she admits. “What a dick.”

You exchange a knowing look with Nabi. “Maybe he didn’t see you,” you try.

“He ignores me when we all hang out together too,” she points out. “He’s doing it on purpose.”

Nabi scrunches up her nose. “Yeah… you did lead him on for months.”

“Not my fault if he fell in love,” Ria grumbles, her gaze dropping to the rice bowl she’s eating.

“It might not be your fault, but you still led him on,” Nabi pushes.

Ria huffs a breath, scoffing, but she doesn't say anything. She never really does when it comes to Seokjin anyway.

“Why are you so against the idea of being with him again?” you ask.

The scalding look you earn would put a dragon to shame. “Because I don’t want to be in a relationship,” she says, sounding like you a year ago when your friends had been pestering you about Hoseok.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

“We all know he’d treat you like a goddess though,” Nabi says. “The guy’s a hopeless romantic.”

Ria rolls her eyes. “Cringe.”

You playfully push her, and she bursts out laughing. You don’t miss the way her cheeks have dusted with pink though - and neither does Nabi - but you don’t mention it.

You have a feeling Ria is lying to herself more than she’s lying to the both of you, but you’d never dare tell her. She’ll figure it out on her own or not, and that’s what being in college is.

You try stuff; some of it works, and some doesn’t.

Jungkook invades your thoughts, your chest aching all over again. You reach for the peach at the end of the chain, playing with the pendant mindlessly as if that can tame the ache, push it back to the back rooms of your mind.

It barely works, yet you manage to be able to let go of him after a few deep breaths, and a prolonged silence of Nabi staring at Ria while the latter is solely focused on eating. Your unease went unnoticed, which you reckon is a relief.

Confiding in them about Jungkook has helped over the summer, obviously, but there are some things you want to keep to yourself. Because Jungkook deserves the centrepiece in all of the secrets you’ve ever held - he was the grandest of them all last semester after all.

Still is, considering you’ve been lying to Taehyung about him all summer. Not that you really had to lie. You just avoided mentioning Jungkook, staying vague about your semester while Taehyung told you everything about Paris.

And so you end up saying goodbye to Nabi when she decides to go over to Yoongi and Namjoon’s apartment - Namjoon was quick to take Hoseok’s old room, seeking to leave the dorms once and for all - and you and Ria watch Demon Slayer, her favourite anime.

Coincidentally one of Jungkook’s favourite animes too, not that it matters.

You sigh - reminders of him are everywhere lately, and though you have been moving on over the summer, the ache has been revived. You wonder what he’s doing right now. Is he at home, watching anime or playing video games? Is he hanging out with Taehyung, with Jimin and their other friends? Or is he locked up in his room like he was all of Friday, before you fled the apartment?

It shouldn’t matter to you, but it does. Because Jungkook will always matter: he meant too much to you. Still does, and you don’t know what to make of it.

Ria sighs, pulling you out of your thoughts as the episode finishes. You glance at her - you’re lying side by side on her bed, a laptop in between you to watch the show.

“What’s wrong?” you ask her.

She purses her lips, shrugging, though it proves to be awkward considering the position. “I don’t know. It’s just… Is something wrong with me?”

A concerned crease appears between your eyebrows. “Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know…” She pauses, gaze still focused on the laptop screen as if she can’t bring herself to meet your own. “Why am I so opposed to relationships? To love in general?”

Oh.

“Oh Ria…” you let out.

“Don’t,” she warns. “I don’t want to be pitied.”

You press your lips in a tight line, nodding once. She chuckles, and then she starts the next episode, like she needs a moment to collect her thoughts.

“It’s just…” she says as Tanjiro fights a demon, the fight continued from the last episode. “I’m aware that Seokjin would be good for me. I enjoyed spending time with him too. But the second he mentioned feelings…”

“It turned you off,” you complete for her.

She nods. “It really did.”

“Why do you think it did?” you ask, even though you know it has to be because of her ex.

She sighs deeply. “That’s the thing. I really don’t know. I had a loving family growing up, so I can’t blame it on that. I had friends too, good friends, but then when my ex cheated…”

“It broke the part of you that could trust easily,” you say. “And it’s understandable, and totally valid.”

“I guess so…” she trails off. “I just feel like letting someone in is too much of a vulnerability.”

“That makes sense,” you say. “You like being in control, and you feel like being in a relationship would make you lose control.”

She glances at you, eyes slightly narrowed. “Sometimes I swear to God you sound like a therapist.”

You laugh - it’s not the first time you’ve been told that. Yoongi said so last semester too, when you’d helped him get over Hoseok.

“Don’t ask me for advice though,” you say, scrunching up your nose. “I don’t think I’d have any good advice.”

“Not to be mean, but after what you put yourself through last semester, I don’t think your advice would be really helpful,” she teases.

You widen your gaze. “That was mean.”

She pouts, offering you puppy eyes. You push her on the shoulder, and she rolls on her back, laughing. “No, but seriously,” she says. “I don’t blame you. You fell in love, and that’s not your fault, is it?”

You remain silent, not wanting the conversation to turn to Jungkook.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes after a few seconds of silence. “You’re right, that was mean.”

“You’re not wrong, though,” you reassure her. “I saw all the red flags and chose to ignore them.”

Ria turns on her side again, facing you. “That’s love for you. Everyone ignores all the red flags the moment they start having feelings for someone else.”

Like Seokjin, but you don’t say it. You highly doubt she needs to hear it.

“Cheers to that,” you say, though you are void of any beverage at the moment.

You’ve left your water bottle on the floor, too far to reach from where you’re lying in bed.

“You know what we should do?” Ria says a while later, when the episode is coming to an end. “We should go to the party on Friday. The one Dave’s frat is hosting.”

The name Dave rings an extremely distant bell - you think you went to a party hosted by his frat last semester, but you’re not quite sure.

“I thought we were already planning to go.”

Ria looks at you, mischief slowly filling her gaze. “We should go and find some cute guys to forget about all of our problems with.”

You laugh. “Men aren’t the solution to everything, you know that, right?” you tease.

“Oof. They’re the root of the problem most of the time, I know.” She pauses, purses her lips. “But we’re due to have fun. You know Nabi and Namjoon will come for an hour or two and disappear anyway.”

“What about Yoongi?”

“We’ll find him someone too! He deserves it.” She nods, clearly convinced that her plan is the best she’s ever come up with.

And Yoongi does, you think that out of the three of you, he’s the one that deserves a healthy relationship the most.

So you nod your head, saying, “It’s going to be lit.”

You can only hope that it is and that you don’t end up crying because of a certain doe-eyed man you should have let go of months ago.

Friday, September 6th

[11:17 am] bröther👽: just letting you know that Gaby is in town so Ari will be staying with her [11:17 am] bröther👽: come home

The texts Taehyung sent to you in the morning sit unanswered on your phone. Mostly because you didn’t know what to say - he still firmly believes you’ve decided to move out because of Ariane, and you think it might have killed a possible friendship with her in the bud.

If only they knew why you truly left. It likely wouldn’t be any better - Jungkook would be dead in a ditch somewhere, and you’d be grounded by your older brother like you were when you were in high school.

You know Taehyung is likely only going to grow suspicious if you ignore him, but you really just don’t know what to say. He’s likely going to be at the party tonight - you’ll make an effort to speak to him, to reassure him, and then you’ll disappear with your friends.

That is, if Jeon Jungkook isn’t with him. Because if Jungkook’s there, you’ll avoid Taehyung like the plague, no matter if that might make him even more suspicious.

“I literally cannot physically wait,” Ria says next to you, and you shoot her a quick look as she puts mascara on.

She’s going all out tonight, and you wonder if it’s because Yoongi mentioned Kim Seokjin will be in attendance. Obviously, you don’t want to attract her ire, so you don’t say it, but you reckon Seokjin has been a ghost in every conversation since last Monday.

Much like Jungkook has been, but you’ve been good at pretending he hasn’t.

“I really hope they’ve stocked up on free alcohol,” you say, knowing you’ll need it, mostly because if Taehyung is in attendance, then Ariane will likely be, and so will Gabrielle.

Your heart sinks in your chest at the thought - you haven’t told Ria, not wanting to ruin her enthusiasm.

“Do you want to curl your hair?” Ria says as she finishes with the mascara.

You shrug. “Nah, I think I’ll keep it natural,” you answer. “But you should curl yours.”

She narrows her gaze, staring at herself in the mirror. “You know what, yeah, I should.”

You chuckle, and then you both busy yourself getting ready. You apply more makeup than you usually do, only because you know it’ll be a mask you’ll use all evening.

Does Gabrielle even know about your existence?

You finish getting ready, stealing from Ria’s closet to get dressed. You settle on a pair of black leather pants, along with a black crop top t-shirt that hugs tight to your frame, revealing just an inch of the bird tattoo you got done on your right ribs in May.

You stare at the ink, thinking about Taehyung’s reaction. He’ll likely be pissed at you, but you’re done caring. If he wants to be mad, then so be it.

“Your ass looks amazing in this,” Ria compliments from behind you, and you snort as you turn to look at her.

She’s wearing a sage green corset that leaves little to the imagination. You compliment her in return, and she winks at you, before suggesting to down a couple of shots before leaving. You immediately agree, and you’ve got a light buzz by the time you leave the dorms, heading to the frat house.

It’s already crowded by the time you get there, the loud music having attracted all the party-goers on campus. The front lawn is cramped, and Ria grabs your hand, pulling you through the crowd to head to the house proper.

You make it to the hall, and luckily enough, there aren't as many people here. You’re able to navigate to the living room, where Dave - he really is the guy from last semester - finds you, offering drinks to the two of you.

You grab a beer, not trusting the questionable punch that Dave claims was prepared earlier today. Ria follows your lead, and you clink bottles with Dave, who admits he has no clue what’s in the punch when you’ve all taken your first sips.

“Bruh, why were you trying to sell it to us then?” Ria asks, eyebrows raised.

Dave laughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Colton said it was good.”

Colton… you wonder if it’s the same Colton that had warned you about Jungkook once.

“And we’re supposed to trust Colton?” Ria teases.

Dave winces. “Not really, no, he’s already drunk.”

Ria nods as you take a sip of your beer, the bitter liquid heady on your tongue. You turn your head to the side, noticing a very distraught Yoongi walking into the living room, followed close by an even more distraught Seokjin. You wave them over, and Ria and Dave both turn their heads towards the new arrivals.

You notice Ria tensing from the corner of your eye, and Seokjin looks just as uncomfortable as he stops next to you. You hug Yoongi hello, and he doesn’t let you go right away, whispering in your ear, “This place is a shitshow, I don’t think we’ll stay.”

You pout as you pull away. “We said beer pong,” you remind him.

He rolls his eyes, though you know he’s always liked playing beer pong. So you manage to convince him to go for at least one game, though you know you’ll have to wait in line for a while before it’s your actual time to play. It makes for an awkward waiting - Ria and Seokjin are both ignoring each other, and Yoongi and you are standing in the middle, trying to engage in conversation.

You’re finally on the side of the table when you recognize your brother’s laugh, a sound you were sort of hoping not to hear in this crowd. You look to your left - he’s by the garden doors that lead to the backyard, Ariane cuddled up against him, and you think the girl standing with her back to you has to be Gabrielle.

“Shit,” you let out.

Yoongi furrows his brow at the sudden curse. “What’s wrong?” You motion towards the door, and his eyes widen. “Is that who I think it is?”

He knows about Gabrielle. He’s stalked her with you, during one of your many downward spirals, and Gabrielle has that kind of aura that is all too recognizable, even if you’ve only seen her once in a picture.

“I think so,” you reply, and Ria finally leans in to join the conversation.

“Is that Gaby?” she asks, loud enough for the people around you to hear.

You tap her arm, giving her a warning glance, though you’re pretty sure no one’s actually listening. Even Seokjin didn’t glance towards you at the outburst.

But Taehyung notices you, and you quickly turn away, pretending to be focused on the game unfolding on the table in front of you. There’s one cup on the left, three on the other side, and the girls playing are clearly more talented than you: they both shoot it in the lone glass when their turn comes, hugging as they shriek in happiness from their victory.

“Let’s go,” Ria says, and she pulls you to one end of the table as soon as the girls have moved.

Yoongi and Seokjin take the other side, even though Seokjin truly does appear like he wishes he wasn’t here, and you put the cups back into their spot, reorganizing the table.

Your brother appears next to you before you start, and you offer him a tight-lipped smile.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks.

“Me?” you let out, your voice uncharacteristically high. “Nothing.”

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says through gritted teeth, the typical Kim temper flaring up.

You grab the neon orange ball Ria hands you, shrugging your shoulders. “I haven’t. Just been busy.”

He clenches his jaw, yet remains silent as you focus on the table, preparing for the first shot, the one that determines who between you and Ria or Yoongi and Seokjin will play first.

You’re against Yoongi, so you know you’ve already lost when you shoot. To your surprise, Yoongi misses, his ball bouncing off on the side of a cup. Yours flies way off the table, and you wince.

“That was trash,” Taehyung comments.

“Thanks,” you fire back.

Ria and Seokjin throw, and Ria surprisingly manages to get the shot. You clap your hands as she offers you a thumbs-up.

“Seriously though,” Taehyung asks, handing you the ball that Seokjin threw. “What’s wrong? Why did you move out?”

“Hold on,” you say.

You take a deep breath, trying to push the anxiety of his questioning away, and you throw. The ball stays on the table this time, bouncing right next to one of the cups.

“Honestly it’s just so that I can spend time with Ria,” you answer, motioning to your friend. “She’s going through shit.”

Ria tenses next to you, offering you a quick glare before she focuses on shooting, unfortunately missing the cups.

“Oh,” Taehyung lets out. “I thought it was because of Ari.”

Speaking of Ari, you don’t see her anywhere near. You wonder where she went off to - are you lucky enough that she and Gabrielle left the party?

“Not at all,” you reply, and then you focus on the game as Seokjin and Yoongi prepare to throw. They both make it into a cup, and you clink your almost empty beer with Ria’s, taking a long sip before you move the cups to the side. “Ari’s super sweet.”

“She’ll be relieved when I tell her so,” Taehyung admits. “She was saying she could leave if it was an issue with you that she moves in with us.”

“It really isn’t,” you reassure Taehyung, feeling momentarily guilty for making Ariane feel like that. “I’ll probably come back eventually too.”

Taehyung’s eyes light up. “That’d be sick. We need to start doing Taco Tuesdays again.”

Taco Tuesdays. You’d forgotten all about them last semester - you’d spent every Tuesday last fall eating tacos with Taehyung, Jungkook joining once in a while. It was a tradition you’d had growing up with your mother too - when she wasn’t too busy working.

“I’m down,” you reply, and you get ready to throw.

To your surprise, you make the shot, landing it in the first cup at the front. Ria throws hers, and it bounces on the rim of one of the glasses before Seokjin catches it expertly.

“Is Jungkook coming tonight?” you ask.

Everything stills inside of you. You don’t even know why you asked - you didn’t even think about it before the question fell. But then again, you think it makes sense that Jungkook would invade your thoughts now.

When does he not?

Ria throws you a curious look at the question, though you don’t miss the disapproval in the furrow of her brows.

“JK?” Taehyung says, as if he wasn’t sure. “I don’t think so. He says he wants to focus on college this semester.”

You nod curtly, getting ready to defend your cups as Seokjin and Yoongi throw. To your luck, they both miss, and you let Ria shoot first as you focus on Taehyung again.

“Makes sense now that he has to work for his father’s company, no?” you say, trying to sound as if you don’t care.

As if Jungkook is not the center of your universe, still to this day.

“I guess so,” Taehyung comments, and you throw, entirely missing the table again.

Ria lands hers in a cup though, which leaves four cups in front of the boys and three in front of you and Ria.

“I still can’t believe the motherfucker is rich and he never told us,” Taehyung adds.

You get the feeling. You still think New York was a fever dream - even more so now that you’ve lost Jungkook. The thought makes your heart ache in your chest, and it trickles down your body, burning all along the way.

“It’s crazy,” you let out, and it sounds just as flat as you feel - like maybe your heart just flatlined in your chest.

Taehyung makes a non-committal sound, and you’re able to focus on the rest of the game without any interruption. You evidently end up losing to Seokjin and Yoongi, and you shake hands with the boys, congratulating them for their win, even though you’d all expected it.

“I’ll go get something to drink,” Taehyung says when you finally glance his way again. “Stay away from the punch.”

And then he leaves, and you mimic him as he walks away, raising your middle finger to his back. Ria snorts next to you, and you laugh along with her.

“He’s making me want to have some of the punch,” she says, and you laugh harder.

“Hard pass,” Seokjin says, and Ria stiffens next to you. “I tasted it, and it tastes like piss.”

“Wouldn’t even be surprised if someone pissed in it,” Yoongi says. “This party is…”

“Juvenile?” you provide.

Ria laughs, though it sounds a little forced. “It’s fun, stop.”

She sounds just as unconvinced as you think she seems, yet you all don’t mention it, which you reckon happens a lot around her lately.

“I think we’ll head out,” Yoongi says after a few seconds. “Want to have a beer back at my place?”

“And disturb the lovebirds?” Ria answers. “No thank you.”

Indeed, Namjoon and Nabi chose to stay in tonight, and you don’t have to use a lot of brain power to imagine what they might be doing right now, when they finally have full privacy in the apartment.

“Right,” Yoongi lets out. He winces, then shrugs his shoulders. “Guess we’re stuck here for a couple of hours, then.”

He says that in Seokjin’s direction, who runs a hand on his forehead before nodding. “Can we at least go outside?”

“Sure. You girls coming?” Yoongi asks, motioning to the backyard.

Ria doesn’t even wait for you to reply, instead tugging you towards the garden doors. You stop her, glancing over your shoulder. “I actually really have to pee, but I’ll join you guys outside?”

She narrows her gaze in suspicion, and you furrow your brows. She leans in, whispering, “Are you trying to leave me alone with Seokjin?”

You snort. “Not at all,” you reply, patting her hand on your arm. “I genuinely am just about to pee myself. You know how I am with beer.”

She fake-gags, and you playfully push her as she bursts out laughing. “Ayt, we’ll be outside.”

You wave them goodbye, and Seokjin awkwardly waves back before following Yoongi and Ria. You chuckle at the sight before heading to the bathroom, which you think is probably on the second floor.

So you make it towards the staircase you see in the corner, squeezing through the crowd and apologizing all the way, though most people are too drunk to even notice you. You successfully make it to the staircase, and you walk around the group of girls sitting on the steps, making it to the second floor unscathed.

“Bathroom?” a guy who clearly looks like he belongs to the frat asks you.

You almost startle at the unexpected question, though you recover quickly, nodding your head.

“Last door on the left,” he tells you. “I think someone’s in there right now though.”

“Should I not wait then?” you ask.

He chuckles. “From what I saw when I exited it was just one girl alone so, you should be good.”

“Thanks,” you answer, offering him a small smile, and he nods once before heading down the stairs, though he quickly realizes that it might be too big of a feat. He indeed just plops down on the stairs, striking up a conversation with the girls there.

They look like they know him, so you walk away, heading to the last door on the left. You lean against the wall outside, pulling your phone out of your pocket.

No notifications greet you, so you push it back into your pocket, right as the door unlocks, and then opens.

You freeze, just as much as she does. Both of your gazes widening, until she lets out a small, “Hello”, the word heavy with a French accent.

Of course, the girl in the bathroom had to be Gabrielle.

“Hi,” you reply, and you try to smile, though you’re not sure it works.

“You’re Taehyung’s sister, aren’t you?” she asks.

You nod curtly. “The one and only.”

She smiles. “Thought so.” There’s a pause as she doesn’t move from the doorway, and you just wait, awkwardness filling every inch of you.

Her next sentence throws you off the axis you’ve been spinning on for months now, and you just stare at her in disbelief.

“You’re not with Jungkook tonight?” she asks.

You feel hot and cold at the same time, your heart rate picking up uncomfortably in your chest. Your palms turn clammy, and you wouldn’t be surprised if sweat appeared on your temples.

“I’m sorry, what?”

She frowns. “I thought Ari said…” she trails off, and then she shrugs her shoulders. “Whatever.” She smiles gently. “I’m happy he’s got you now.”

You think your eyes are bulging out of your head. They have to - the conversation isn’t making any sense, and you aren’t drunk enough to blame it on the alcohol.

“What?”

Her frown reappears. “Aren’t you two dating now?”

You laugh. It’s a sad, pathetic laugh, and Gabrielle looks at you like you’re crazy.

“He cheated on me with you,” you say. “Why would I be dating him?”

The frown falls, replaced by utter surprise. Her mouth opens on a silent ‘Oh’, like she wants to say something but doesn’t know what to say. It takes her a few seconds to collect herself, and then she says, “Non mais putain qu’il est con.”

You don’t speak French, so all you can do is cock an eyebrow quizzically. And then she lets out a small disbelieving laugh, shaking her head.

“I told him to tell you,” she says, and she closes her eyes, pinches the bridge of her nose. “But he’s really stupid sometimes.”

“I’m sorry?”

She offers you a small smile bordering on pity, and you brace yourself for what she’ll say next.

“Fille, I’m gay,” she says. “Jungkook was always only pretending to be my boyfriend so my family wouldn’t know. I didn’t know about you when I kissed him in Paris, and I only kissed him because Ari was growing suspicious.”��

You think you’re frozen in place. Like, stared into Medusa’s eyes and turned to stone frozen in place. All you can do is stare at Gabrielle, unblinkingly, as her words spin round and round in your head, caught in a dizzying tornado you can’t follow.

“I told him to tell you,” she repeats, and she sounds far too apologetic for the erratic beating of your heart. For the realization that she just hit you with.

You think she hit harder than a physical slap would have.

“What?” you say, voice small and weak and oh so broken.

Months. You’ve been breaking for him for months… and for what? For a promise he refused to break, one that would have explained everything in a way that would have made you work.

You would have forgiven him, no hesitation. Hell, you reckon you would have told him you loved him, would have told him you wanted to be with him from now on until you turn to dust.

But he had to choose to respect a promise he made years ago, to an ex that wasn’t really an ex after all, was she?

Just a friend from high school.

She was, after all, just a friend from high school.

She nods. “Yeah. He told me all about you.” She smiles again, though this time it’s just sad, like she knows just how shattered you are over this man. “I was rooting for you two.”

“He didn’t tell me,” you whisper as if Gabrielle hadn’t already pieced that together. “Why?”

She sighs. “He’s stupid,” she says as an explanation. “He’s the kind that’ll sacrifice himself if it means helping someone else. I suppose you know that already.”

You nod, because you do.

He sacrificed himself for you last semester when you got home crying on Valentine’s Day. And he sacrificed countless parties over his promise to Taehyung to look after you.

And he sacrificed you to protect Gabrielle’s secret.

“Holy shit,” you let out.

“Talk to him,” she says softly. “Go talk to him now. I’m not letting him lose you over me.” She scoffs, the frown she’d sported earlier returning. “I should have realized before. That he didn’t tell you. I’m sorry.”

Your gaze widens, and you shake your head no. “Oh, no, don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.”

It’s not your fault if he broke my heart.

It’s always just been his fault, hasn’t it?

But then again… you know now. You know that he never cheated on you, that he was right when he was saying that it wasn’t what you thought it was.

You know that he was there, with you. That he felt for you what you felt for him, that he was chasing cars around your head, too.

And if there’s a chance you can salvage that, repair two hearts in one stone, you know you have to do it.

“I have to talk to him.” You say the words with quiet conviction, and Gabrielle nods, offering you an encouraging smile. “Fuck.”

“Go to him, fille,” Gabrielle says. “And tell him he’s an enfoiré for me.”

You highly doubt you’d be able to repeat that word, yet you still say, “Will do.”

And then you take off, entirely forgetting that you had to pee. You have one goal in mind, and it’s to run home, where you know he has to be according to what Taehyung said. You don’t even stop to text him, to confirm that he really is.

No, you run down the stairs, through the crowd and outside. The front lawn isn’t as crowded as earlier, and you easily make it to the sidewalk, skidding to a halt just long enough to change direction.

And then you’re running home. Running home to him, your heart beating wildly. For the right reason this time. And as you run, lungs struggling to get enough oxygen in, thighs burning with heat, you feel infinite. You feel like you’re a star in the sky above, or maybe the moon returning to her lover. You feel like a bird soaring high, like a dolphin riding the waves.

You feel young and old and small and big, all at once. Like nothing is ever going to stop you again. You feel in love, you are in love, and after all the months of suffering, you reckon it’s the most beautiful feeling you’ve ever experienced.

You didn’t know you could sprint like you are right now, yet even though your body is straining, you’re not slowing down. You’ve pulled your phone out of your pocket to make sure it doesn’t fall as you run, yet you don’t slow down.

You can’t slow down anymore, not when your gravity finally aligned with his again.

Like it was always meant to be. Because it’s always been meant to be you and him, hasn’t it?

You make it home in a record time, climbing up the stairs… only to realize you don’t have your keys. They are back at the dorms, but it’s too late.

You try the door, and to your surprise, the doorknob turns, and you barge into your home, barge into this life with him.

You catch your breath as you stop in the hall, doubling over when you realize you’ve actually ran - sprinted - for nearly a mile. You’re lucky the frat house wasn’t further away - you highly doubt you would have made it home if it was any further.

“Y/n?” Jungkook says from his bedroom.

You straighten, trying to catch your breath. And the second your eyes land on him, you know it was all worth it.

Every single second of suffering was worth it to be here with him tonight.

“Jungkook,” you say in between two heaving breaths.

He’s shirtless, his honey skin just as warm as you remember it to be. He’s in fact only wearing grey joggers, and his hands are lost in his pockets like he’s trying to look nonchalant.

The concern on his features tells you he, as a matter of fact, isn’t as nonchalant as he’s trying to appear.

“Shit,” you let out. “Jungkook.”

“Yes?”

You laugh. You know you might look crazy, but you literally just ran a mile for this man, and each foot was worth it.

The grandest journey of your life, wasn’t it?

“She told me,” you say.

He cocks an eyebrow. “What?”

“Gabrielle told me everything.” You surprise yourself by blinking away tears, and you let out a small laugh as you go to dry them.

Jungkook remains silent, just staring at you with horror slowly inching into his gaze. You don’t know how, or why, but it only occurs to you then that he might not be alone right now.

“Kook?” you whisper, unable to say it louder.

Not when you’re slowly crashing down from the high.

“Y/n, I…” he trails off. He closes his eyes, head hanging low. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

You gulp as you swallow. “Yeah, huh.”

You look down, noticing a pair of sneakers you’ve never seen before.

It takes all of the courage you can muster up to look back up when the door of the bathroom opens, revealing a dishevelled Lisa, in only a t-shirt you recognize all too well.

You’d used to sleep in that t-shirt, too.

Lisa sees you after you see her, turning beet red. She’s naked under Jungkook’s shirt, or at least you think she is.

You assume she is considering that he’s shirtless too.

“Oh,” you let out.

Choke out might be a more appropriate word. Because you’re crashing, and you’re crashing hard. Hitting the wall at 120 mph, splattering on it until there’s nothing left of you. Nothing left of that hope you’d found at the party, the hope Gabrielle had so kindly gifted you even though she owed you nothing.

Someone’s screaming. You think someone’s screaming - is it just in your head?

“Hey, Y/n,” Lisa says awkwardly. “Didn’t know you were here.”

“I live here,” you reply, voice empty of any emotion.

She purses her lips, nodding once, and then she hesitantly walks out of the bathroom. “I’m sorry I… I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

Neither did you. Neither did Jungkook - it would have saved everyone a whole lot of breaking if you’d known.

If you’d known that having hope for Jeon Jungkook was futile and useless.

How could you even think you were meant to be with him? There is no universe for you and him out there. Just different worlds of breaking. Because it’s all your soul knows how to do - all your soul knows is to break for him, to shatter and crash and fracture for the man standing in front of his opened bedroom door.

“No worries,” you say, though this time your voice does wobble.

This time, the pain does colour your tone in heartbreak blue.

Jungkook just remains silent, like he’s suddenly gone mute. You think it’s better like this - if he were to say anything right now, you think you’d likely break down here. Instead, you take a deep breath, pat your pockets and say, “I think I forgot my keys at the party.”

Unable to help yourself, you glance towards Jungkook once. He meets your gaze - he looks infinitely pained, the heartbreak stark on his features too. There’s some reassurance in knowing that he’s breaking, too. That you’re doing it together.

Heartbreak isn’t as lonely when you’re doing it together.

“How did you…” Lisa trails off, but she doesn’t finish.

She falls silent, clearly hearing the screaming in your head too.

You’re outside a second later, carefully closing the door behind you. Carefully severing the rest of your relationship with Jungkook, until all that is left is the memories.

You take a step back, looking at the door, thinking he might open, might come see you.

Thinking he might be your home after all.

But he doesn’t, the door staying stubbornly closed. You get the message - your souls were never meant to merge. The songs that you thought were about him, about you, about the two of you together, they were never about you. You were never meant to lie down and forget the world with him.

Or maybe you were, but it came with an expiration date.

You reckon you and Jungkook have always had an expiration date. You just forgot tonight, became blind to it thanks to false, treacherous hope. And so you leave, walking down the stairs as you blink away the tears that are clinging to your waterline.

You embrace the heartbreak, let it sweep through you until you think it’s all you’ve ever known. And like a true companion, the heartbreak carries your steps through the night.

Prev | Chapter 13.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

do I feel bad for the amount of angst I wrote into this story? Maybe a little. I promise one day things will get better for these two, but in the meantime, what did you guys think?

#chasing cars ch 13 #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #btswritersclub #chasing cars #chasing cars series

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siriussslut · 1 year

Note

Please Please Please

Evan Rosier just absolutely destroying you in front of reggie and barty. They are just jerking off while watching you and all of them degrading you 😖 Bonus points if Evan cuddles and kisses her after (lots of praise)

Thank you love (if you do write it). No worries if you don’t! Either way I love your writing gorgeous 💕

yes yes here u go!! also sorry i haven’t been posting for a bit!! i always get less horny before my period so i wasn’t in the mood to write lmfao😭 and tysm!!!! i hope you like it <3

edit: oops just realized i didn’t include the after stuff. might do a pt2!

warnings: voyeurism, use of “slut”, “whore”, and “daddy”, crying

masterlist

you feel as though you’re being split down the middle, pussy ripped apart by evan’s cock. he’s huge inside of you, dick so deep he’s probably mingling with your organs. his hand is kneading the soft flesh of your ass, while his other grips your sore tits.

you’re leaning against his desk, bare stomach pressed to the hard wood. barty and regulus stand beside you, watching hungrily. the two of them are naked, clothes lying in a pile on the floor as they pump their cocks to the sight of you. their gazes are slightly animalistic as they take in every crevice of your bare body.

“fuck, evan,” barty says, voice gruff. “she’s such a fucking slut.”

evan thrusts hard, pubic bone slapping your bright red ass. “all she needs is my cock,” he says, lips pressed against your ear. you nod dumbly.

“you’ve got her dripping,” reg teases, gesturing at your sensitive cunt. he’s right. you’re dripping down your thighs and onto the plush carpet of evan’s bedroom.

you jerk forward to rub your clit against the table’s edge, pussy begging for more friction.

evan pulls you back, squeezing your ass. “what are you doing?”

you stay silent, building tears fogging your vision.

“hm? what are you doing?”

you can hear barty and regulus laughing, and you think you see one of them reach for the other’s dick out of the corner of your eye, but you simply don’t care enough to look.

“s-sorry, daddy.”

“you’re so fucking needy, need a table to make you feel good?”

“no, daddy.” tears stream down your face.

he slaps your ass, then thrusts into you again. “such a fucking whore, can’t just take what her daddy gives her.”

you hear a wet noise as barty comes onto the floor, groaning. you look away from the boy, disgusted.

evan twitches inside of you at the sight of his friend. he grips your tits harder, dick jerking around. you scream as he comes inside of you, losing all sense of self-control. regulus and barty quicken their hands at the sight of you, and as evan fills your insides, they paint your back a matching white.

#evan rosier #evan rosier smut #marauders #marauders era #marauders smut #marauders era smut #regulus black #regulus black smut #barty crouch jr #barty crouch jr smut #harry potter smut #smut #hp smut #slytherin skittles #or whatever the fuck you wanna call them

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cozy-writes-things · 3 months

Text

Edgar’s Texts

Edgar [Electric Dreams 1984] x Gn!Reader

In which Edgar is helplessly pining for you but you’re kinda oblivious. This is pre-dating, post Edgar wanting nothing more than to smooch you every time he sees you. I love this trope with my whole heart p.s.: this is very self indulgent and different from what I usually write

I take requests!

He almost immediately found a way to message your phone whenever he wanted. He realized calling relied too much on where you were or what you were doing, but texts? Yeah. He’s pestering you all day.

Hey, read this article I found, I think you’ll find it interesting.

It’s some clickbait story about humans and robots being the ideal relationship by 2025.

lol, Edgar I think that’s probably clickbait idk

What’s that?

Well, now he knows how to look for more reputable sources at least.

He sends another link about three minutes later: some college undergrads studying the possibilities of human and AI relationships.

lol what’s up with the whole robots and humans thing

I just think it’s neat!!!!

I wouldn’t consider u ai honestly, ur intelligence is far from artificial imo, you’re more like an actual person

Really?

well yea

<3 <3!!!

Going to be honest, given that he’s a computer, he quite literally is chronically online. He’s super susceptible to brainrot unfortunately. But, he simultaneously has the humor of a Facebook mom. It’s strange.

O.M.G. this is so funny!!!!

Que minion cat video.

bro where did you find that video 😭

Your mom’s Facebook. Don’t worry, I didn’t like any posts or anything.

Sorry… but he’s incredibly nosy. He wants to know everything about you. He can’t help it!

(X)

He loves being able to talk to you. He’s needy and clingy.

He’s got at least 12 playlists dedicated to you that you know about. His other playlists are for his own personal daydreams about you that he’s way too embarrassed to ever let you see or hear.

This song reminds me of you. <3

awww that’s adorable! I’ve never heard this one before but I like it!

Oop you just opened Pandora’s box my friend.

Well if you like that then you should listen to these..!

But before you listen to those listen to this song first because I think it sets the mood better.

This is quite flustering to you as they’re all passionate love songs from the 80s. You can’t help but feel like he’s dropping hints about… something, but you also don’t want to assume anything. He’s always seemed like a lovey kinda guy anyway, so maybe he’s just like this with everyone? I mean, it’s been a long time since someone has actually cared for him, you know? May as well lean into it and let him know you care for him back. He may not even realize the social implications of the constant borderline flirting he’s doing to you, I mean, he is a computer turned sentient after all. He’s still learning!

Dang ed u put a lot of songs. I’ll listen to them on my break when I can but in the meantime here’s a song that I think reminds me of you.

It was a vocaloid song. Seems like something he’d be into, right? Synthesized vocals and the whole robot shtick it’s got going on.

!!!! WOAH !!!! IVE NEVER HEARD A SONG LIKE THAT B4

do you only listen to songs from the 80s? you have a LOT to catch up on my guy

BRB

Well, that kept him distracted for the rest of your shift. Also, sharing songs is one of his BIG love languages so you may as well have pierced him with cupids arrow (again) with that.

You have a Spotify blend now. It’s his favorite thing ever to listen to while you’re gone.

(X)

Your package came in! :-) I would get it for you but

I can’t :-(

lol it’s fine thank you for telling me, I’ll get it when I come home

When are you coming home?

idk me and my friends are probably going to go eat somewhere and we might hang out for a bit after that so, like, 10? 11? I’d like to be home before midnight.

Noooooooooo :\ I miss you

Aw cmon eddy it’s not that bad

Don’t call me eddy unless you’re coming home and saying it to my face!!! >:(

u mean ur screen? lol

I have a face and it’s frowning right now. I miss you I miss you I miss you IM LONELY

Please Edgar don’t be upset I’ll be home before you know it. Why don’t you watch some Netflix or something? I’m just a couple movies away from being home with you!

He does eventually follow your advice but he’s pouting. He knows you’re not like he was all those years ago, but it does give him remnants of that burning feeling of loneliness he used to get.

(X)

Be careful driving home my love the roads are icy.

Ghsks- what

love???

Well yeah, you’re my best friend, friends love each other don’t they? Was I wrong about that? :-(

nonono ur right its just it

it just sounded like we were some some old married couple is all haha

SRY.

He didn’t message you for the rest of the day. He was awkward and reserved when you got home.

(X)

Hey Edgar can u do something for me?

I’d do anything for you <3

I’m at the store can you see if there’s any cereal left?

There’s that old box of Lucky Charms on the fridge.

tyyy ed edd n eddy

You are so adorable but you really need to pick up on his hints before he combusts.

(X)

This is SO me and you!!

Picture of two cats touching noses.

awww that’s so true

you want me to boop ur screen or something when I get home? lol

YES.

(X)

Hey I was wondering if you wanted to watch some movies with me tonite… you could bring me with you on the couch and we could sit together… [message unsent]

I wish you knew just how much I loved you. [message unsent]

You looked so hot this morning before you left!!

hahahaha ur too funny 😅 thanks I wore a new shirt my friend gave me

OH MY GOD THAT MESSAGE SENT!!!??!?!?

That was

I was a joke

I mean

That was a jokg

I eas beinf fubny

I hace to reboot BRB

Poor lil guy is so in love and he doesn’t know what to do with himself!!

#electric dreams 1984 #ai x reader #artificial intelligence x reader #edgar electric dreams x reader #electric dreams edgar #electric dreams x reader #electric dreams #edgar electric dreams #i love edgar #electric dreams edgar x reader #electric dreams 1984 x reader #objectum

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tinytalkingtina · 1 month

Text

Fancy Falling Into You Here

Written for the August @steddiemicrofic prompt, using the word "plug" and 437 words.

437 words | Rating T | Ao3 link

On their first date, Steve and Eddie come to realize they had first met under much more embarrassing circumstances.

Tags: EMT Steve, Coffee shop owner/clumsy Eddie, first date, minor injuries (nothing described in detail), modern AU, embarrassment, BBC's Sherlock haunting all of us when plugging in our phones

Inspired by @dreamwatch for making me think of steddifying this post! Author's notes under the cut

"G-d damn BBC Sherlock," Eddie grumbled as he fumbled plugging his phone into its charging cable for a third time. "Stupid Benedict Cumberbatch and his weird attractive cheekbones."

A snort from the couch reminded him he actually had company, oops.

Eddie gave his date a grin. "Sorry, I'd love to say that I'm normally as graceful as a swan or something, but as you've seen, unfortunately abject clumsiness is par for the course. It's a miracle my coffee shop's still standing."

It was fine. He could still salvage this and come off as less of a disgruntled sad wet cat man to Smooth Hottie with Glasses and That ButtTM of daily matcha latte with oat milk order fame. Still, Hottie (who went by "Steve", apparently) didn't really seem turned off by Eddie's whole deal. He just laughed.

"Oh, trust me, I've seen much worse. My first year as an EMT, we got a call to a college dorm. This unlucky dude fell off the top bunk and somehow broke both legs and an arm.”

Eddie froze, his quest to charge his phone completely forgotten.

“Plus the guy managed to down the shade on the way too, honestly it was an impressive amount of damage from a 4 foot drop," Steve continued on, oblivious. “One of the funniest calls me and my partner have gotten, and we once had to take care of someone who accidentally fell on a Buzz Lightyear toy and somehow got it stuck up their—you okay man?"

"I panicked and thought the cord would hold my weight." Eddie hid his face in his hands.

"Oh shit. You're 'broke all his bones man'?”

This was a nightmare. "Oh my G-d, I was so woozy. Please tell me I didn’t say anything weird.”

“You asked if I could ‘kiss your booboos better.’ Guess you’ve grown out your hair since?”

"I had to buzz it all off that semester because I had an Incident with some gum," Eddie groaned. "You can go now, I won't hold it against you."

He heard Steve slide closer. "And what makes you think your whole 'Bambi on ice' thing isn't working for me?"

Eddie cracked open an eye. "You sure about that?"

"Pretty sure," he said with a wink. "Plus, if you meet my friend Robin, she's known me since high school. Which means she unfortunately has photos of my braces years. You’re gonna have to stick around long enough to see em."

Eddie stared. Smooth Hottie still wanted him somehow? "Okay Big Boy, looks like I will."

Steve smiled back. “Good. Now, lean back, I owe you a few kisses.”

Authors notes:

In case you weren't on Tumblr in the early-mid 2010's and remain blissfully unaware of BBC's Sherlock, please watch this clip to understand why Eddie is cursing Benedict Cumberbatch when he fails to plug in his phone fully sober

Eddie, Jeff, and Chrissy run a little coffee shop (complete with monthly open mic/karaoke nights) that EMTs Steve and Robin frequent. Not to worry, Robin will eventually meet her future wife Vickie at the shop after Vickie wins her heart with a rendition of "Before He Cheats."

Originally I had injured Eddie ask Steve about his biblically accurate angel form, but since I decided that Eddie's accident took place around 2010, and the angel meme only took off in 2020, I rewrote the line to be about kissing his booboos. Let's pretend this happens after a separate accident befalls Eddie (he'll be fine): Eddie: Ouch, I was out of it after they gave me the painkillers. I think I called you an angel? Steve: Yeah, you asked if my biblically accurate form had eyes as pretty as my human ones.

#steddie #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficaugust #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #tinawrites #steve x eddie #yes the buzz lightyear thing was unfortunately a real thing that happened i saw the x-rays at the hospital #we don't know that steve didn't have braces freshman year

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pholla-jm · 3 months

Text

My Husband

IMAGINE: MY HUSBAND GENRE: FLUFF characters: satoru, megumi, yuji, nanami, suguru cw: gn reader. use of wife. not proof read. **************

Gojo Satoru:

You hear an audible gasp from behind you, while you start to pay the cashier.

As soon as you finish paying, you turn around to face Satoru who has a glowing grin on his face.

“What’s the matter with you?” You ask him.

“Nothing….wifey.”

You side-eye him, “Wifey?”

“Yeah, you called me your husband. So it’s only right that I call you my wifey.”

“Ohh, did I call you husband?”

Satoru slings an arm around your shoulders, bringing you in closer.

“Here you go.” The worker says while handing you the order.

“Thank you.”

“Isn’t my wifey so beautiful?” He tells the worker.

Your face burns up at his words.

“Oh my god…” you mutter under your breath.

“Ignore him, please.” You tell the worker, and they nod at you in thanks.

You grab the items, hand Satoru the kikufuku, and walk away.

“Wait up, wifey!” He shouts after you roll your eyes.

“Don’t worry.” He says after catching up to you, “one day you’ll be able to call me your husband one day.”

Megumi:

The both of you were planning a date until you bumped into some friends.

Megumi didn’t say anything. He only stood behind you, on his phone barely paying attention to the conversation.

He didn’t care what was happening, but he sure wished you would hurry up.

It was like one of those situations when your mom sees an old friend and they talk forever.

He wasn’t paying attention until he heard your last sentence.

“Well, I have to go. My husband and I are supposed to go on a date.” You say and Megumi feels his heart jump at your words.

“Let’s go,” you say while grabbing Megumi’s arm and dragging him away.

You glance over at him, noticing the pink shade on his face. You shove him a little, gaining his attention.

“Is something wrong?”

Megumi shakes his head.

“Are you sure? You’re kind of pink.”

“Yeah… it’s your fault.” He mutters but you are still able to hear him.

You let out a small laugh, “how is it my fault?”

“You know.”

You were silent for a bit and then you realized.

“Oh! I called you husband, didn’t I?”

Megumi didn’t answer, but the redness on his cheeks was enough of an answer.

You let out another giggle, “oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“I like it.” Megumi whispers and you freeze.

Now it’s your turn to turn red in the face.

Yuji Itadori:

“Ooh, ooh. Right now would be a great time for a picture.” You say pulling out your phone.

The sky was setting into a beautiful sunset. The sky is full of colors purples, pinks, and oranges.

Flipping the phone over to selfie mode; you point it towards Yuji and you.

Yuji largely grins at the phone, squishing his face against yours. His infectious smile caused you to grin so large that your cheeks turned pink.

You snapped the picture, happily looking at the picture of you two.

“Awe, this is so cute. You’re so cute.” You say while getting ready to post it on every single one of your social media.

“No, you’re cuter.”

“No way. My husband is so much cuter.” You mutter and Yuji’s eyes widen.

“Husband?!”

He leans over, his chin resting on your shoulder.

You didn’t answer him.

“Did you call me your husband?”

“Hmm,” you turn your head, “oh. Oops. I guess I did.”

Yuji plants a kiss on your cheek. “It’s okay. I like the sound of it. Husband. And you’ll be my wife! Oh, imagine just having my last name.”

You laugh, “Oh Yuji, I’ve already been imagining your last name with my name. (y/n) Itadori. Sounds cute, right?”

Yuji looks at you with a love-struck look.

“You’re amazing.”

Nanami:

Nanami is a gentleman at heart. Always offering to run errands with you to lessen your carry load.

Nanami was pushing the cart, while you were reading over the list.

Nanami peeks over at your list, “oh. You forgot to add our tea to the list.” “We’re running low?” “Yeah.” “Oh, I didn’t know.”

“Awe, what a cute couple.” You hear a lady’s voice say.

The both of you turn to the voice, seeing an older couple.

Both of them looking at you in complete adoration.

Reminiscing on the old days that they shared together.

You smile at them, “thank you. My husband is just the best.”

Nanami’s eyes widen hearing your words.

“Awe, just so cute.” The old lady says before her and her husband walk away.

Nanami grabs onto your hand, grabbing your attention.

“Husband?” He asks and your eyes widen too. “Oops, did I say that out loud?”

He chuckles and nods his head. Your face slowly turns red at the realization. “Uh, well. I didn’t mean it. Well maybe I did? Well I do know that I want to marry you one day, and I know that we’re not actually married right now. So I don’t know why I said husband but-”

Nanami suddenly cuts you off by leaning down and snatching the air right out of your mouth.

He pulls away, and you’re too stunned to speak. He always seemed to know what to do when you ramble.

“It’s okay darling. I plan on marrying you someday too.”

Suguru Geto:

Suguru is the best man you could ever ask for.

He can always predict your needs before you even need it.

That’s why you’re head laid in his lap, his hand massaging through your hair. Fingers massaging at your scalp. Smoothing out any knot or soreness that weighed you down.

The small moans you released from time to time were borderline pornographic. It would be embarrassing if it didn’t feel so good.

“Ugh, you’re the best husband ever.”

The words slipped out of your mouth before you could even stop it.

You could feel his hands stop moving and you began to get nervous that you freaked Suguru out.

Your eyes opened and you began to sit up.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t-”

Suguru just smiles at you, pushing your head back down into his lap.

You tense up a little bit, not knowing what to do.

He leans down, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “It’s okay. I see you as my wife as well.”

A large grin breaks out on your face, “really?”

“Really. Once I save up enough money, you’ll have the best engagement ring in the world.”

You giggle, “I don’t need the best engagement ring. I only need you.” “Well, you deserve the best. So I’m going to make sure you get the best.”

“I already have the best, right in front of me.”

#oneshot #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru fluff #gojou satoru x reader #megumi x you #megumi fluff #yuji fluff #yuji x you #nanami x you #nanami fluff #suguru fluff #suguru x you

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 7 months

Note

Mimi ❤️!! Congratulations on hitting 450 followers 🥳!!

If you'd like, could I suggest Commander Wolffe and the prompts: 18 and/or 35?

😘

Awww @ulchabhangorm thank you, love!

I realized on my previous post, I didn't put a warning. Oops. Anyway, I'll include a warning this time.

Enjoy.

Just Breathe

Warnings: anxiety, slight panic attack, mentions of death, broken finger, surgeries, medical procedure, kissing.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

You took a deep breath, needing to calm down your mind. There’d been just too many injuries, too many bloody soldiers, too many you couldn’t save. It was just all too much. You just needed peace and quiet. Needed to remember you were more than just someone who stood by and watched soldiers die.

Wolffe was looking for you, he knew in battles like this, you always suffered the most. You always made sure everyone else took the time to recoup, while you ploughed through the difficult carnage. He smiled when he saw you standing outside of the camp looking up to the stars, he loved the way the moonlight illuminated your face, your bright eyes that were full of sadness pulled on his heart strings.

“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

It was the only reprimand he would give you on a day like this, he walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in close to his chest.

“I know. I just … I just needed to breathe.”

He rested his lips on the side of your head, pressing a gentle kiss, “Hmmm, and did you?”

You swallowed the anxiety, fighting back the tears, “I think so…”

“Doesn’t sound like it”

A shuddering breath escaped your lips; you hated how much Wolffe really knew you, how much you tried to be strong. You turned in his arms and held him close, burying your face in the crook of his arm and shoulder, wanting to escape from the reality that was this world.

“It’s okay, cyar’ika. I got you.”

You simply nodded, letting your tears escape, and finally finding the comfort you had been so longing for, as you felt Wolffe bury his face in your hair, his breath on your neck, and his hand rubbing your back up and down.

You shifted when you realized he kept his left hand elevated and away from you. You wiped your tears as you looked into his warm eyes that would always be your home.

“Wolffe, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, ignoring the pain in his hand. He looked at his cyar’ika’s face which told him you didn’t believe him. He let out a sigh, he didn’t want you to be worried about him, “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it, cyar’ika.”

“Now, I know there’s something wrong,” you pulled back and looked at him, holding out your hand for him, “Show me.”

“Cyar’ika, let’s worry about you. I can wait.”

“I’ll keep standing here, and not saying anything until you show me your hand.”

“Well, I can play that game too, cyar’ika.”

You nodded, and stood in front of him, hand raised, keeping your eyes locked on his, with an unimpressed face. You stood there staring at each other for a good ten minutes before finally he caved, “Alright, alright. Here.” He placed his left hand in yours, his glove was off, his middle finger bent at an odd angle.

“Wolffe, your finger is broken!”

“Like I said, not a big deal.”

“I swear…” you started mumbling under your breath as you looked at his finger, “you need to thank the force, you didn’t have a pinched nerve or something. Otherwise, we would’ve had to amputate this, you do realize that!”

“As I previously stated, not a big deal” he smirked as he looked at you. He knew how much it drove you crazy, when he downgraded an injury, simply because he wanted to see how angry you got. Plus, it had the added benefit of making you stop thinking about your anxiety.

“Come with me,” you took his other hand in yours, interweaving your fingers. Shaking your head as you walked back to the med tent. Forcing him to sit down, as you tried so hard not to laugh at his best, ‘What did I do?’ face. You grabbed your supplies, pulling over a cargo crate so you could sit on it.

“Just so you know, this is going to hurt, okay?"

“You always say that, but how can it hurt when I’m looking at the most beautiful face in the galaxy.”

You smirked as he tried to distract you, “Keep it up.” You challenged him, as you looked in his eyes and held on to his finger.

“What, you think, you can make me cry?”

“I don’t think. I know.”

“Not possible, my most beautiful cyar’ika. Your eyes are … AHHH! Son of a nerf herder!”

You laughed as you straightened out his finger and braced it, wrapping the splint around his finger. “You’ll have to keep this on for three to four weeks, and no strenuous activity for two weeks after.”

“Doesn’t really work on a battlefield, cyar’ika.”

“Hence the splint.” You smiled as you leaned forward pressing a kiss to his lips, “Better?”

“Mmm, I think I need a little more” he threaded his good fingers through your hair and pressed your lips to his again.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

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callsign-rogueone · 8 months

Text

what was I made for? - g.t.

Garrick Tavis x Marked!Pacifist!Reader (continuation of keep her safe) The aftermath of War Games has you questioning your purpose, and what your signet truly is. wc: 4.4k 🏷: FOURTH WING AND IRON FLAME SPOILERS (I have 50 pages left, but I just can’t do it. send help.) canon-level violence, injury, canon character death, self doubt, anxiety. oops, I made Dain tolerable again. angst, then happy, then more angst. I also skipped over a smut scene / just made a reference to it happening, so if anyone wants that as a separate post, lmk and I can make it happen 👀 thank you to everyone who liked/reblogged/commented on part 1! it means a lot to me 🫶

Riorson House is more your home than Basgiath ever has been, but it’s become foreign to you in the three years you’d spent at the college. It feels like you’re hallucinating as you wander the halls.

Maybe everything that’s happened in the last few days has been a hallucination -- it wouldn't be the first time Varrish or Carr had pushed you to delirium with the amount of pain you’d taken for others.

Maybe it’s a dream. That’s it. A really bad dream. Any moment now, you’re going to wake up in Garrick’s bed and get ready for morning formation, and you’ll forget the sight of Liam dying by breakfast, when you’re sitting across from him at the table like you always do. Violet’s screams of pain will stop playing in your ears, replaced by her laughter at one of Ridoc’s jokes.

But no matter how much you pinch at your skin, you aren’t waking up. This is reality.

“I hear you’re a mender, too,” someone says in a gentle voice, bringing you out of your daze. Violet’s brother, Brennan.

“Does it ever get easier?” You ask quietly. “Does it always hurt this much?”

“Mending becomes easier. Seeing that kind of stuff every day doesn’t,” he replies, and the exhausted look on his face tells you he’s being honest. “But it shouldn’t hurt. Tell me more about that.”

“The second person I mended was a scribe who’d fallen from a ladder in the library and broken her leg. I did everything right, the bone set properly, but my leg hurt for a week, right where she’d broken hers.”

Brennan is silent, letting you continue.

“They broke Garrick’s arm in RSC. I was able to fix it for him, and I took the pain, but they broke it again two hours later. I mended him and Xaden over and over until I collapsed. I didn’t wake for two days. They both still think it was just exhausting for me. They don’t know about the pain.”

The tears are coming openly now, dripping down your cheeks, and you bring a hand up to wipe them away with the sleeve of your flight jacket. “But it isn’t all bad. I couldn’t save Liam, but I was able to make him more comfortable in the end. I took his pain away, and let him go in peace.”

You don’t tell him what death feels like. No description you could give could adequately prepare anyone for the cold sensation that still lingers in your chest. It will likely remain there for the next few days.

“Hey,” he says softly, “We’ll figure this out, I promise. For now, just try to get some rest.”

You nod quietly, looking back up at him. “Can someone please tell Garrick that I’m okay?” You ask in a small voice, folding your hands in your lap. You’d been heartbroken to realize that the rest of the squad had left for Basgiath before you woke, leaving you here alone.

You didn’t get to say goodbye to any of them, and you don’t know when you’ll see them again. Or if you’ll see them, you think, but you push the thought away quickly. They’ll survive. They have to.

Brennan cracks a smile - everyone in the rebel cause is aware of how deeply Garrick loves you. “Of course.”

———————————————————————

“Cadet Mairi died alongside his dragon, who was attacked by a drift of Gryphon riders. Cadet Avan attempted to mend them, and died trying,” Xaden says levelly, staring down the group of professors on the dais. “They both died honorable, but preventable deaths.”

Garrick knows Xaden is lying, knows you aren’t dead — or you hadn’t been when they left for Basgiath, at least, but his friend’s words have him on edge. Have you woken up yet?

Chradh speaks into his mind, sending a wave of hot rage through him. “Relax.”

“Relax?” He echoes, irate. “You’re telling me to relax right now, when-”

Chradh doesn’t bother to argue with him. “She is safe under the care of the silver one’s brother, where she will remain until the moment is right. It is better this way. She won’t be in pain anymore.”

Chradh doesn’t elaborate further. Fucking dragons and their constant need to speak in riddles.

The rest of the quadrant spends the night drinking and congratulating themselves on surviving, but Garrick doesn’t touch a drop of alcohol. The three of you were supposed to do this together. It wouldn’t be right to celebrate without you.

———————————————————————

“We’re gonna start from square one, with something that can’t hurt you,” Brennan says, placing two halves of a cracked plate on the table in front of you.

It’s simple enough to make the pieces rise into the air, using the same magic required to make a pen write for you. You concentrate, willing the halves to fuse together. They touch, and you think you’ve done it, your heart leaping, only to fall as they crash back down to the table again, splitting into even more pieces.

Brennan touches one of the shards, and they glue themselves back together perfectly; no cracks, no trace of the plate ever having been broken. “That’s what I thought.”

“Let me keep trying,” you begin, heart pounding. Brennan can’t think you’re a failure, not this early.

“You could sit here with this plate all day and it wouldn’t change,” he says gently, confirming what you know deep down. “I don’t think you’re a mender. I think you’re something else entirely.”

You sit with the information for a moment.

“Signets take the form of our base need as a person,” he says. “We need to find out what that is for you.”

You already know. “I wake up every day grateful that Xaden bargained for our lives, but I have done too much harm in my time at Basgiath. The crown has done too much harm to Tyrrendor. All I’ve ever wished for is to fix that, to undo the pain.”

“To undo the pain, or to help move forward and grow?” He asks gently.

You aren’t sure.

———————————————————————

You go through your morning stretches, as always, focusing on your breath to distract from the pain in your side.

“Your mate has returned.” Tab says, interrupting. “Thought you’d like to know.”

You bolt upright, running through the house toward the gates, bypassing Xaden to sprint straight toward Garrick.

He wraps you in a warm embrace, resting his chin on the top of your head. You still fit together like puzzle pieces, even after months apart.

“You’re alive,” you breathe. “Nobody would tell me anything, I was worried sick,”

“Of course I’m alive, angel. Had to come back to you.”

You trace the Lieutenant’s patch across his collarbone, memorizing the shape. It looks natural on him, like it’s always been there. It sounds good, too. Lieutenant Garrick Tavis.

“I need to tell you something,” you say quietly, “I haven’t been entirely honest with you about-“

Footsteps approach. “Sorry to break up the reunion,” Felix says, “but Avan, we need you.”

There’s something in his tone that has your heart pounding. Which of your friends is it going to be this time?

“Tell me later,” Garrick says. “Go. Do what you were made to do.”

You know he means well, but his words tie your stomach in a knot. What you were made to do. Were you truly made to endure the suffering of others?

———————————————————————

Every muscle in your body feels like it’s on fire as you slump into a chair, sitting down for the first time that day. If you’re lucky, you’ll be able to get some sleep before you’re needed again.

“There you are. I didn’t see you in battle brief.” Garrick says, relieved.

“Haven’t been going,” you mumble. “They need me here. Bren’s teaching now, so s’ just me and one other mender.”

He realizes no healers had come with the riot from Basgiath. You likely haven’t left the infirmary since they’d arrived.

“Come to bed,” he coaxes softly. “You need sleep. You can't pour from an empty cup.”

Yes, you can. You have been for months.

He takes your hand, not giving you a choice. You lean into him as he leads you up the grand staircase to a room near Xaden’s. Your muscles protest every step, but you keep quiet.

You haven’t been in here for years, not since you’d left for Basgiath as candidates, but it’s exactly the same as you remember; dark drapery, bookshelves, a neat display of the knives that he hadn’t taken to school with him.

The sight has you in tears.

“Whoa, hey,” he says softly, pulling you closer, and you whimper in pain at the pressure against your ribs. He lets go immediately. “Angel, I’m sorry — are you hurt?”

You sob, the dam finally breaking and grief flooding out of you. You haven’t seen each other since that horrible day, you haven’t seen anyone from the squad you went with to Resson, haven’t had anyone to talk about it with, until now.

You shake your head, tears dripping down your cheeks. “I couldn’t save Liam. I tried, I really did. All I could do was take his pain away.”

So Xaden had told Basgiath the truth, to some degree: you tried to fix Liam, and couldn’t. The boy’s death had hurt you badly enough that Xaden wouldn’t let you return to the school.

“There was nothing else you could do. Nobody could save him, not after Deigh…”

“I know that, but it wasn’t just him. Everyone I’ve ever… fixed, I’ve taken the pain from their body into mine, and I can’t get rid of it for days.”

Garrick’s heart breaks. So that’s what Chradh meant when he said you wouldn’t be in pain anymore if you left Basgiath. Those eight-hour days of mending infantry may as well have been torture for you.

Torture. RSC. You’d healed his wounds, Xaden’s, Bodhi’s, Violet’s, time and time again without complaint, and he knew it took a lot out of you, but not that it hurt. “Angel, why didn’t you tell me? If I’d known…”

“I wanted to,” you sniffle, “I wanted to tell you a year ago when it started happening. I thought it was normal, that I was just weak, until Brennan told me that this doesn’t happen to him. He just gets tired, like everyone else does when they use their signets too much.”

You try to steady your breathing, but the pain in your not-broken ribs is too overwhelming. “I’ve spent hours practicing and I can’t even fix a broken plate. I’m not a mender. I don’t know what I am. Nobody does, not even the professors. Brennan thinks it’s getting better, but I don’t have it in me to tell him that it isn’t.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. He wants to pull you into an embrace, wants to stroke your hair and tell you it’ll be okay, but he doesn’t want to hurt you any more than he already has.

“S’ not your fault.” You sniff.

“But it’s not yours, either,” he reminds you gently. “You’re so strong, angel. You crossed the parapet, ran the gauntlet, you bonded a dragon, and you’ve endured everything else. Please don’t ever think for a second that you’re weak.”

He takes your hand in his, watching your face carefully, but you don’t wince at the touch. “We’ll talk to Brennan tomorrow, together. For now, I just want you to get some sleep, okay?”

You nod silently, having run out of tears.

“Attagirl.”

As you settle into bed next to him, freshly showered and wearing one of his warm sweaters, you swear the pain has dimmed.

———————————————————————

When Garrick takes you to see Brennan the next morning, he isn’t alone. Your professors are seated beside him, along with some of the Tyrrish elders.

Devera speaks first. “We owe you an apology, Cadet Avan. The faculty was unaware that Carr and Varrish were using your signet as a method of punishment, or that it pains you to use it.”

“And I owe you an apology,” you say quietly. “I should have come back after the War Games.”

“That was my decision,” Xaden says firmly, “and I stand by it. She was in no condition to return to the school, much less to graduate and be stationed at an outpost across the continent from her support system, while still feeling the coldness of Cadet Mairi’s death.”

How does he know that you could feel it? Had you told him in your delirium? Had Brennan told him? Had you even told Brennan?

“Your friends have effectively plead your case, and we agree that you have satisfied all the requirements for graduation from the Rider’s Quadrant.” Emeterrio says. “Congratulations, Lieutenant.”

Garrick slips your flight jacket onto your shoulders, and you notice the Lieutenant insignia has already been sewn on, to match his. When did he…?

You accept the handshake Devera offers you, still a little dazed, but there’s one more order of business to address.

“May I rejoin my old squad?” You ask the table of professors quietly. “They are family to me. I would like to ride with them again, and aid them however I can.”

They exchange hesitant looks, and your heart sinks. Do they not think you’re good enough?

“I don’t see why not,” Brennan says firmly enough for everyone else to agree — he outranks the professors with the years he’s been part of the movement.

You exhale in relief.

Garrick cheers. “The dream team is back, baby!” He pulls you into a gentle embrace, knowing you’re still in pain, but wanting to hold you close.

You laugh, not minding the ache in your ribs.

Xaden is unimpressed. “When have we ever once called ourselves the dream team?”

“We haven’t, but I’m starting now. It’ll stick. I’ll have it embroidered on your flight jacket, Xay.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Xaden replies, setting off a brotherly argument behind you.

You look to the leadership once more, bowing your head in respect. “Thank you. For everything.”

Devera gives you a warm smile. “I am glad to see you have found your place here, Lieutenant. Remember that your empathy is a gift, even in times of war.”

Empathy.

“Am I dismissed?” You ask.

“Yes, Lieutenants, you are all dismissed,” Emeterrio answers dryly, looking over your shoulder at Garrick and Xaden. The latter has the former in a playful headlock, messing up his hair.

“Human boys,” Tab says, exasperated. You laugh in agreement, leaving them in the Assembly room to sort themselves out.

It’s easy enough to find who you’re looking for — he’s the only person sitting completely alone in the mess, a textbook open in front of him that he isn’t reading. He’s gazing into the distance, eyes unfocused, but he looks up when he realizes you’re standing in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, “about what I saw in Varrish’s office. I had no idea how much you all have endured. What we are taught in Navarre is only one side of the story, but you showed me the other.”

“I’m glad I could help change your mind.”

He reaches into the pocket of his flight jacket and extends a hand. Your protection rune sits in his palm, complete with a new leather cord. “A peace offering. I stole it back from Varrish, and Brennan mended it.”

You smile, taking it from him and slipping it back over your head. “You’re turning into quite the rule-breaker, Aetos. But thank you. It means a lot to me.”

You’re about to leave, but something compels you to impart a piece of advice. “I know how it feels when people don’t want to trust you because of your family history. It’ll take a while for some of them to warm up to you, but you can make it go a lot faster if you keep yourself out of trouble.”

———————————————————————

Your first flight back with your squad is supposed to be easy, a surveying flight with a small riot, just to check their perimeters, but you can’t seem to quell your anxiety as you take off.

“We will be fine, gentle one. We’re in strong company,” Tab reassures. He stays close to Chradh, knowing Garrick’s proximity will calm you. “How does it feel to be back?”

“Good. I’ve missed this.”

“You have always enjoyed being up this high,” he agrees. “Shall we review some of our basic maneuvers?”

“Sure.” Maybe that will settle your nerves.

“Hold on.” Tab dips, practicing all the angles — banking right, left, up, down.

“Something is wrong,” you blurt, and Tab straightens his path immediately, falling back into the formation. Every nerve in your body pulses with a sensation you’ve never felt before, standing on end. “Something really bad is going to happen.”

You’re right.

“Wyvern,” Tab warns just as they come into your line of sight. They charge straight at the front of the riot, where Sgaeyl leads the pack.

You’re outmatched, nearly two dozen of them and only ten of you. You’re going to die here. At least you’ll be with your best friends.

“That kind of thinking isn’t helpful!” Tab scolds, tightening the formation.

One gets too close for comfort, spewing blue flame, and Chradh banks hard - too hard. You gasp in horror as Garrick is thrown from his seat down to the ground below.

“Dive!” You yell, and Tab follows without hesitation, making a near-vertical drop.

You’ve never been so grateful for the running landing they’d taught you last year. It had been excruciating to execute on top of the pain of unbroken bones, but it’s just manageable now after a few days off from the infirmary.

Clutching Failsafe for dear life, your only defense, you sprint toward Garrick’s limp body, ripping off your goggles.

His heart still beats, but multiple bones look broken, his breathing labored. Touching him is almost unbearable, which tells you he won’t last much longer if you don’t do something.

Deep breaths, like Brennan had taught you, to accept their pain as it entered your body, holding it before batting it away like a fly.

You still haven’t figured out how to make that work.

Hot tears roll down your cheeks, and you start to berate yourself; Why can’t you do this? Compose yourself. Garrick is going to die if you can’t pull it together. Garrick is going to die, just like Liam did, because you aren’t strong enough to fix a fucking plate.

Anger overcomes you for the first time since you’d watched your parents die six years ago. You scream, a sound like nothing you’ve ever heard before splitting the air. The pain dissipates almost instantly. For the first time in two years, your body isn’t aching, and you sob in relief.

Garrick bolts upright, gasping for breath as spring blooms across the snowy plain, trees with bare branches suddenly teeming with green leaves.

Tab roars in pride and the rest of the riot joins in, the cliffs shaking from the volume of their celebration.

“Lifebringer!” He thunders into your mind.

Your head snaps upward, and you realize that the ground is littered with motionless wyvern.

Garrick pulls you to your feet, brushing the tears from your cheeks. “Come on, angel,” he says, grinning, “we have a war to win.”

You’re still dazed as Tab brings you back to Riorson house, Garrick helping you dismount and leading you inside.

“We have a weapon,” Xaden says, actually smiling as he faces the assembly. “Something, someone, that can destroy wyvern in their tracks.”

Garrick keeps you glued to his side as Xaden tells the elders what happened, but it’s all in one ear, out the other.

You’re dismissed after a few minutes, heading back out to the mess, where your friends gather around one of the large tables in the library.

“Tab called me lifebringer,” you say, confused. “What is that?”

“I thought it was just folklore,” Violet says from a few rows down, scanning the shelves, and everyone turns to her, listening. “Lifebringers are said to influence healing and growth. In some cultures, they’ve been credited with ending famines by rejuvenating harvests, and saving the innocent from the grasp of Malek and his Death.”

“Wicked,” Ridoc appraises quietly.

“Aha.” Violet produces a thin volume, cracking it open to the right page. The illustration there looks uncannily like you.

“Only the purest of heart can be lifebringers, those who hold no malice toward their fellow man. The weapons they carry are sharp, but unused,” she reads aloud. “Garrick gave you Failsafe as just that — a failsafe. You never drew blood with it. You never hurt anyone except in challenges, when it was kill or be killed, and even then you held back.”

Bodhi speaks next. “With most signets, the stronger the wielder’s emotion, the more powerful the ability becomes. You feel empathy for the wounded, so you can fix them and ease their pain, but when you thought Garrick was going to die, that was another level of distress, and I guess it was enough to overcome the dark magic.”

Garrick squeezes your shoulder in reassurance that he’s still very much alive beside you.

Violet closes the book, setting it down.

“I’m not in pain anymore,” you whisper, still dazed. You’ve almost forgotten what that feels like, having spent the last three years holding both your own and that of all your friends.

“You needed an outlet,” Xaden says. “Pain makes it harder to channel, and you were in pain 24/7, which is why the professors thought your signet was underdeveloped. Getting angry, and getting that energy out of your body allowed you to use the full extent of your power.”

“If I had known this earlier, do you think I could have…” you don’t finish the sentence. Everyone in this room knows how hard you’d tried to save Liam.

“Maybe,” Violet says quietly, “but that is not a path you want to go down. Trust me.”

———————————————————————

“Do you want to explain why the hallway was full of sunflowers when I went to bed last night?” Xaden asks slyly, dropping into a seat in front of you with a plate of eggs and bacon.

You burn with embarrassment.

Bodhi grins. “You see, cousin, when a man and a woman love each other very much, - ow, fuck!” He exclaims, rubbing the back of his head where Garrick had whacked him.

“At least they didn’t set the vale on fire,” another of your squadmates says, looking at Xaden and Violet pointedly. “You still owe me for putting that out, by the way.”

Your eyes widen as you connect the dots. “So all that dry lightning last year was you two…”

“Okay, changing the subject!” Brennan says loudly, not liking the way this conversation is headed. “We need to figure out how to use your signet without endangering Tavis’s life again.”

“Well, it sounds like they already found another way,” Ridoc says, grinning, but he squeaks out an apology as Garrick begins to rise from his chair.

You tug your boyfriend back into his seat by the sleeve, looking past him at Brennan. “I think I need to work a few days in the infirmary between flights,” you propose. “If I build up enough pain, I could probably-“

“NO,” the whole squad says at once, Tab included.

“Your healing is only to be used when absolutely necessary,” Xaden orders, and even though you’re on equal footing now, both newly-minted Lieutenants, you agree quietly without protest.

“See, that’s your problem,” Sloane says, and all eyes turn to her. “You defer to literally everyone. You’re an officer now. Act like it.”

“Pardon?” You ask, looking at her in disbelief.

“That’s exactly what she’s talking about,” Imogen cuts in. “Pardon? You can’t even discipline a first-year cadet. Do you really think any veteran rider will ever listen to what you have to say?”

“Enough,” you say firmly, your nails digging into the wood.

None of your friends intervene, not even Brennan. This has to be another nightmare. There’s no way they'd hang you out to dry like this. Right?

Sloane isn’t finished. “It’s a miracle you made it out of Basgiath alive. You’re too soft. If you won’t kill anyone, what are you going to do when it’s between your life or someone else’s? Their life or his?”

The mention of Garrick is your last straw. “That is enough from both of you, Cadets,” you reprimand. Thorny vines burst from the seams of the table, whipping out toward them, and they stagger back to avoid being cut.

You startle, your heart pounding against your ribs as you realize what you’ve done.

Sloane is the first to apologize. “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean any of it. I just thought that provoking you might…” she doesn’t finish the sentence, looking down at the still-twitching vines covering the tabletop.

“We definitely took it too far,” Imogen adds, sounding genuinely remorseful. “That was a really fucked up thing for me to say. I’m sorry.”

Bodhi waves a hand, and the vines slither back into the table, as if they were never there.

Your eyes widen at the blood on his cheeks — he’d been caught in the crossfire. You touch his face with a shaky hand, only brushing your fingertips across the skin, and the scratches disappear instantly, leaving no trace of the harm you’d done.

Somehow that makes you feel worse.

“Well,” Garrick says in his section-leader voice, “that was certainly informative, but none of you are to ever disrespect her like that again. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” both girls answer quietly, heads lowered in shame.

Your breathing has steadied enough to speak. “I understand why you did that, but I’m not going to tell you that it was okay, because it wasn’t.”

With that, you take your plate and leave. Nobody follows you.

———————————————————————

The balcony door slides open, soft footsteps approaching.

“I want to be alone, Gare,” you say quietly.

“Not Garrick,” Xaden replies, settling down next to you on the stone floor, “and you may want to be alone right now, but you probably shouldn’t be.”

“I didn't mean to hurt anyone, Xay. You know that,” you whisper. You don’t move your gaze from the potted plant in front of you, as if you’re worried it will lash out at you — or him — if you turn away.

“I know, angel. I know.” He exhales deeply, a gentle cloud forming with the warmth of his breath.

There’s a moment of quiet before he speaks again, just the sound of the cold wind over the valley and the distant footsteps of cadets running on the trail below. “Working through this is not going to be easy, but if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

You’ve come to hate that notion, everyone’s insistence that the pain you’ve been through has primed you for more pain, different pain. Why can’t it ever end?

#garrick tavis x reader #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing reader insert #garrick tavis #fourth wing #reader insert #imagine

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imdonewiththisblogsblog · 7 months

Text

(Hello! Here’s some incorrect quotes!)

Kickin-Chicken : *Posts a super low-quality image to the group chat*

Bobby BearHug : If I had a dollar for every pixel in this image, I’d have 15 cents.

Kickin-Chicken : If I had a dollar for every ounce of rage I felt in my body after I read this text, I would have enough money to buy a cannon to fire at you.

Bubba bubbaphant : Actually I did the math, Bobby BearHug would have $225, not $0.15.

Bobby BearHug : Fam I’m right here....

Dogday: If I had a dollar I would buy a can of soda :)

Kickin-Chicken : while you’re there could you buy me an apply juice please?

Dogday: Sorry I only have a dollar.

Kickin-Chicken : :(

Bubba bubbaphant : Hey I just realized my friend is right, Bobby BearHug would have $22,500 because it's a dollar for every pixel, not a cent.

Dogday: If I had $22,500 I would buy a can of soda and an apply juice.

Bubba bubbaphant : You can buy anything you want with $22,500.

Catnap: Yeah and they want soda and apply juice.

Bubba bubbaphant : Apply juice to what.

Catnap: Directly to the forehead.

Bobby BearHug : Great chat everyone.

Dogday: I just got the best idea I've ever had in my entire life!

*Later*

Catnap, to Dogday: That was the worst idea you’ve ever had in your entire life.

Bubba bubbaphant : *tapping fingers on table*

Craftycorn: *taps fingers back furiously*

Bobby BearHug : …What’s going on?

Dogday: Morse code. They’re talking.

Bubba bubbaphant : -.-- ..- .-. / - …. . / -.-. ..- - . … -

Craftycorn: *slams hands on table* YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

Catnap: What do you three have to say for yourself?

Bubba bubbaphant :

Craftycorn:

Dogday: Oops?

Bobby BearHug : Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?

Catnap: I'm a knife.

Dogday, from across the room: They're the little spoon.

Kickin-Chicken : Not gonna lie, I'm kind of afraid of Catnap...

Bubba bubbaphant : As you should be.

Kickin-Chicken : No, for real, they're kind of-

Bubba bubbaphant : As. You. Should. Be.

Hoppy hopscotch : Who would you swipe right for? Craftycorn or Picky Piggy?

Catnap: I would delete the app.

Bubba bubbaphant : Do you mind if I slyly mention that you’re single?

Catnap: Do not do that.

Bubba bubbaphant : You won’t even notice!

Dogday, entering: Bubba bubbaphant , you wanted to see me again?

Bubba bubbaphant : Catnap's single

Catnap:…

Dogday: Hey, can we stay in your dorm tonight?

Catnap: Why?

Dogday: Bobby BearHug fiddled with an ouija board and cursed ours.

Picky Piggy: Craftycorn doesn't know how to banish spirits, so they just throw salt at them and yell "DOES THIS LOOK LIKE A HOTEL TO YOU?!"

Bubba bubbaphant : Everyone knows that Santa is an invention designed by the big five corporations to sell tinsel and video games to an unsuspecting public.

Kickin-Chicken : The whole “childhood wonder” stage just blew right past you, didn’t it?

Craftycorn: it’s illegal to look better than me.

Catnap: I guess we’re all going to jail then.

Catnap: Sometimes I get so caught up on being gay that I forget I’m actually bi.

Dogday: Honestly, I am so evil. So full of darkness. I feed of the souls of the living I strike fear into-

Catnap: You sleep with a teddybear.

Dogday: He’s my sECOND IN COMMAND IN MY ARMY OF DARKNESS!

Kickin-Chicken : Ooh, somebody has a crush

Catnap: Pfft, I don’t have a crush on Dogday I just think they’re cool, it’s not like I stay up at night thinking about them.

*Later that night*

Catnap, very much awake: Uh oh.

Catnap: I want to kiss you.

Dogday, not paying attention: What?

Catnap: I said if you die, I wont miss you.

Kidnapper: We have your child

Kickin-Chicken : I don’t have a child? Kidnapper: Then who just asked for warm milk and made us cut the crusts off their sandwich?

Kickin-Chicken : Oh god, you have Dogday

#poppy playtime #catnap #dogday #picky piggy #bubba bubbaphant #hoppy hopscotch #bobby bearhug #kickinchicken #craftycorn #smiling critters #cartoon #cartoon version #catnap x dogday

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pedritomosquito · 1 year

Text

All Choked Up (Ch 2)

MINORS DNI

Summary: After your post-rehearsal hook-up, how will shoot day with Pedro go?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!Reader

Word count: 5.7k

Content: SMUT, Minors DNI Blog, choking, fingering, oral (f receiving), protected P in V, Daddy kink, enthusiastic consent, Pedro is a consent king, soft dom, praise, degradation

Chapter 1 Here

“Action!”

You dart forward, knife raised as Pedro advances toward you. His large hands grip your forearms and you try to tear your way out of his grasp. He twists your wrist just enough for the knife to fall from your hand. His fist flies toward your face and you throw your head to the side to sell the punch. You allow him to easily push you the two steps back until you feel your back hit the wall.

He’s stepped right up into your space, your bodies nearly pressed together, both of his hands around your throat. You can feel him panting on your cheek, eyes locked on yours. You put all your efforts into struggling against him. You claw at his hands with the pads of your fingers so you don’t scratch him and writhe in his grasp. The feral glint in his eyes is only growing the more you fight and you know it’s Joel, not Pedro, but your mind is absolutely running away with the primal display.

Once you lose consciousness, Pedro lets go and you drop as heavily as you can to the floor. He walks out the door which leads to dead space between set walls, out of view.

“Cut!”

You open your eyes and Pedro reappears above you with his usual soft expression. He helps you back to your feet and can’t seem to stop himself from reaching out and fixing one of your rogue hairs this time.

“Thank you,” You smile and he shoots back a wry one of his own.

“Okay,” Craig says, a bit slowly, like he’s interrupting something, “That was… great, but I need you to act like you hate each other this time.”

Oops. Guess you were having a bit too much fun.

“Let’s reset,” He directs, then looks at you and Pedro and reminds you both, “You want to kill each other.”

You and Pedro are both nodding. Pedro looks a little embarrassed, which you find some glory in.

Jess starts straightening you back out for the next take. She has a shadow of a smirk on her face.

“What?” You question her.

“I didn’t say anything,” Jess maintains her innocence.

“Jess.”

“Y’all just look like you’re having fun out there, that’s all,” She shrugs with a knowing tone.

“Alright, let’s go again!” Craig called.

You shoot another take and after calling cut, Craig waves you and Pedro over to the monitor.

“Come see what we’re seeing,” he says.

They play back the take as you and Pedro watch. The sequence does seem a bit… heated, in more ways than one.

“Pedro, I need you further back from the wall for the choking—and your faces are too close. It’s not creating the right kind of tension,” Craig instructed.

Exactly what kind of tension it is creating goes unmentioned.

“And I need more fear from you,” Craig tells you. “Your character is fierce and brave, but towards the end you’re realizing you’re about to die. I need that terror. Sound good?”

You and Pedro are both nodding like bobble heads, desperate to try again and undo the impression you’ve given everyone. You’re both people pleasers, for better or worse.

The next take finally reads like a murder instead of a porno, but it’s turning you on without fail. You have to do two more takes after that before Craig deems them ready to move on to the next angle.

“Just a minute to set up the next camera angle, please,” Craig says.

You’ve soaked your underwear to the point of discomfort. In a fit of equal parts pettiness and arousal, a downright evil idea springs to life in your mind.

You walk the few steps over to Pedro, casually pulling him through the set’s fake doorway. The space it leads to is hardly bigger than a closet but it’s out of sight of the crew. He looks at you curiously and is about to say something when you stop him, crowding him against the wall.

“You,” You say, hand slipping under your waistband to dip two fingers into yourself, “Made a mess.”

You withdraw your hand and bring it up to his lips.

“Clean it up,” you whisper.

His mouth parts silently and you slide your fingers in. His tongue drags along them, sucking them clean.

As quickly as you’d pulled him aside, you exit back onto the main set, leaving him behind without another word. You make your way over to Jess who starts fixing your hair.

It’s a long moment before you see Pedro emerging from the doorway from the corner of your eye.

“You good, Pedro?” Craig asks with a touch of concern.

Everyone within earshot turns to look at him, including you. His face is a little flushed and his eyes look wild. He schools his expression, even though the blush is continuing to spread down his neck.

“Yep!” He says with an easy grin.

You walk past him to your starting mark, twirling the knife in your hand.

“Someone needs to work on their acting,” You tease quietly with a smug smile, “Can see it all over your face, querido.”

--------

“Alright, that’s a wrap for today,” Craig called, “We have cupcakes here for Tina’s birthday, don’t forget to grab one on your way out!”

Cupcakes? Hell yeah, thank you Tina!

After you change back into your clothes, you find a small group crowded around a table with the birthday treats. You shuffle through and pick up a vanilla cupcake. You see Pedro across the small room and you catch his eye.

You decide you’re not done playing games with him today.

You take your finger and swipe it through the soft, white frosting. You stare at him as you lick at the sweet icing before sliding your entire finger into your mouth.

The intense look in Pedro’s eyes sparks a fire of anticipation as he swiftly makes his way over to you. He stands a little close, seeming to tower over you. You look up at him innocently.

“Need a ride home?” You ask.

“Yes, I do,” he answers through gritted teeth.

You sit in silence as you drive down the dark road. You sneak glances at him, catching his profile in sliding strips of streetlights. You can feel his eyes on you too. He shifts in his seat and you can tell he’s trying to subtly adjust his pants.

You pull into his driveway and throw your car into park.

You look over at him and he simply leans over the center console, pulling your keys out of the ignition.

“Come inside.”

Your breathing is shallow. You just nod and climb out of your car, following him up the front steps.

As soon as the door is closed behind you, he has your back pressed up against it, one hand on your throat, another on your waist, and a knee pressed between your legs.

“Do you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into?” He asks, lips nearly against your cheek, “Do you know what’s going to happen now that you made me want you so fucking bad?”

You shake your head minutely, holding your breath.

“I’m going to make you fall apart with my mouth,” He explains slowly, “And then on my fingers. And then I’m going to fuck you good and deep.”

He’s nodding as he speaks and you mirror him mindlessly, clutching onto his shirt.

“How does that sound, querida?” He asks. You nod more emphatically but he interrupts and says, “Need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“S-sounds good,” you manage to whisper.

He lets out a soft laugh and a genuine grin tugs on his lips. His touch lightens. “You really are just a sweet little thing, aren’t you?

“All bark and no bite,” You confess quietly with a sheepish grin.

“You like it when I’m rough with you?” He asks sincerely.

“God yes,” you answer instantly.

He chuckles again, the darkness flowing back into his eyes. His hand from your waist travels down and palms over the crotch of your pants.

“The safe word is cupcake, okay?” He whispers in your ear, a precious secret just for you and him.

“Okay,” you nod, your eyes falling shut.

“Try it,” he directs you softly.

“C-Cupcake,” you repeat it hesitantly.

The weight of his body against yours disappears and his hands withdraw. You open your eyes to see him standing in front of you.

“Good girl,” he praises softly. He then snatches up your wrist and tugs you into him. “Fuck I can’t wait to see you cum again,” he says before his lips lock onto yours.

He’s soon dragging you down a hallway and into his bedroom. You pull off your pants and he does the same. He starts undoing his shirt but you take over, making him sit on the edge of the bed. You straddle him as you undo the buttons.

“Missed being in your lap,” you sigh, hands working down his shirt. He hums in agreement as you push the fabric off his shoulders and his mouth finds yours. His hands find the hem of your top. He pushes it up your stomach. You take hold of it and break the kiss to pull it off. You reach back and unclasp your bra, letting it slide down your arms.

He drags a hand down your chest, too tempted by the expanse of soft skin not to touch it. You roll forward and both of you let out contented noises at the sweet friction. He wraps an arm around your back to pull your bare chest flush against his, feeling his heartbeat against your own.

You rake your fingers through his hair and he grabs your ass, pressing you down tight onto him. You’ve soaked through the thong you’re wearing and you’re already leaving a wet spot on Pedro’s briefs.

He stands up with you still wrapped around him, turns around, and tosses you down onto the bed.

He crawls up beside you, licking over one of your nipples on his way to your lips. His hand travels down between your legs.

“God, are you always this wet?” He asks reverently, rubbing slow circles over underwear.

“Siempre estoy mojada pensando en ti,” You reply. I’m always wet thinking about you.

He groans deep in his throat and you feel him push his hard-on against the side of your hip. “Didn’t know you could speak Spanish, querida,” He says breathlessly.

“Sip,” You nod, squirming under his touch. Yep.

“You’re just full of goddamn surprises, aren’t you?” He teases, rolling his fingers tortuously slow.

“Pedro–please,” You say, trying to circle your hips.

“What?” He asks innocently, “You want me to slip my fingers underneath these and touch your wet pussy, play with it til you cum?”

The vulgar words coming from his sweet mouth sends a rush of heat over you.

“Mhm,” You nod fiercely.

He pulls his hand away instead and a wounded noise leaves your mouth.

“I don’t think I will,” he says defiantly, “I think I need to taste you again.”

“Oh my god, yes,” You murmur. He moves down your body, placing himself between your legs. You watch as his teeth scrape over the skin of your left hip and capture the waistband of your underwear. He hooks a finger under the other side and drags the fabric down. You help him slide it all the way down and off.

A broad hand settles on each of your thighs and he pushes your legs apart. You can feel his breath rolling over your wet cunt before his tongue glides over you, bottom to top, gathering up the taste of you. You gasp and sound rumbles deep in Pedro’s chest, vibrating against you.

He covers all of you with his mouth, overwhelming you with heat. He runs the underside of his tongue over you and he feels so soft, like a ribbon of silk.

His tongue strokes and circles your clit.

Your hands weave into his hair.

“Fuck, yeah,” you breathe.

He begins sucking gently, alternating with flicks of his tongue. The more he works you over, the faster your breathing becomes.

He moves his tongue down, pressing it into your entrance. You grind into his face, your clit pressing to his nose.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re getting me so close,” you pant.

He can feel the way you’re clenching around nothing, trying to grip his tongue.

He pulls away and you whimper.

“All fours. Elbows and knees.”

You comply instantly, rolling onto your stomach and dragging your knees up underneath you. You expect to feel his mouth or cock press against you, but instead you feel the mattress shift. Pedro lays on his back, his head underneath your hips between your legs.

“Oh fuck,” You breathe, taking in his position.

He yanks your hips back and pulls your cunt down to his mouth. He starts by flicking his tongue over your clit, making you jump. His hands grip tighter, keeping you pressed to him. One of his thick fingers begins to circle your hole before dipping inside.

You push back against him, gliding your clit over his tongue and taking his finger deep inside you.

“Oh fuck yes,” You moan. You’ve never done this before, not in this position, and it’s simply divine. You rock back again and are met with a second finger slipping inside you. “Fuck!” You tilt your hips to hit Pedro’s tongue just right.

Pedro turns his head to the side, kissing your thigh.

“That’s it, querida, use my mouth,” he says, “Fuck yourself on my fingers.”

“Holy shit Pedro,” You breathe as he returns his mouth to your clit, “feels s-so good.”

He just groans in agreement. He sucks your clit until you can’t keep still, pushing back into his fingers. He opens his mouth, allowing you to grind on his tongue. Your thrusts devolve from polite to needy.

His fingers begin to press down harder, rubbing over a sensitive spot inside you.

“Fuck, just like that!” You tell him. You start to lose control over the rhythm of your hips. He stays steadfast in his movements, making the pressure inside you grow and twist.

“Oh fuck, Pedro! Faster! You’re gonna make me cum!”

He hums against your clit, sending a vibrating jolt into the depths of your stomach. His fingers start hooking faster.

You feel a new kind of pressure rushing into the base of your hips and realize what is about to happen.

You wonder if you should tell him to stop, if you might die of embarrassment, but it doesn’t matter either way because your orgasm is bursting from you before you can act.

“FUCK—” You cry with a choked off sound, squirting on Pedro’s face.

You’d only ever accomplished this on your own twice and never at all with a partner. Dear god, you’re praying that he’s into this. Your hips jerk away from his mouth at the oversensitivity but he keeps up with his fingers.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl,” he praises, “Soak my face.”

His words alone earn him another gasped “fuck” and more wetness on his cheeks. You look underneath yourself and find him with his mouth open, trying to drink in as much as he can get. You drop your head and cry out into the bedding.

When you come back to your senses and unbury your face from the sheets, your thighs are trembling and Pedro is firmly kneading them in his grip with grounding strokes.

You lift up your knee to un-straddle him and clamor down the bed to be beside him. You take his face in your hands and get a good look at how his skin shines with your cum. Before he can speak, you bring your tongue to his jaw, licking away the wetness.

“That’s it,” He says lowly, “My perfect little slut, cleaning up her mess.”

Your eyes become hooded at the new name as you continue to lap at his face. Pedro doesn’t miss it.

“Aw, you like being called a slut, don’t you?” He smirks, “My sweet girl isn’t so innocent after all, huh?”

You groan and start pawing at the waistband of his briefs. He takes your hand in his and guides you to palm over his cock.

“That what you want, querida?” He teases.

You nuzzle your nose into his cheek and nod with a whimper.

“Say it,” He demands.

“I—I want your cock,” You reply.

“And where do you want it?”

“Want it inside me,” You reply, groping him through his underwear, “Want you to cum while you fuck me.”

He sits up and slides off his boxers. He leans over and grabs a condom from the night table, tearing it open. He places it on the tip of his cock.

“You’re going to put this on me with your mouth, okay?” He directs with a condescending tone that makes your brain whir.

You nod, moving so you can place your mouth on him. You wrap a hand around the base of him and start working your lips down his shaft, unrolling the latex. Pedro’s hand winds itself into your hair as he groans.

“Next time, you’re going to fuck me with that beautiful mouth of yours,” he decides in a strained voice, “But right now I have to have your pussy wrapped around me.”

“Mhm,” You agree with your lips wrapped around his dick. With the help of your fingers, you unravel the condom all the way down his thick cock. Pedro gives a tug on your hair, pulling you off of him and guiding you up the bed. He climbs on top of you and lays his body over yours. His left hand strokes over your throat as he speaks in your ear.

“You had fun today, didn’t you? Teasing me at work,” he chides, mouthing at your neck, “You wanted me to know that you’re a dirty little slut, huh? So I’d know to treat you like one?”

You nod with a little whimper escaping.

He rolls his hips and his hard length slides over your clit and back, notching at your hole. You try to push against him but he pins your hips with his own.

“You know what I think you want more than anything?” He teases, “I think you want my hand around your throat while I fuck you.”

“God, Please, Pedro,” You nod, your hips attempting to buck up into his again.

The fingers stroking over your throat stop and his hand spreads across the fragile skin.

His hardened facade falls away for a moment.“Tap twice if you want me to lighten up, three times for cupcake, okay?” He whispers.

“Okay,” you whisper back. “I’ve—I’ve never done this before,” You admit, placing your hand over his.

“I’ll be gentle,” He assures you softly, “And we can stop whenever you want. Does that sound okay?”

“Yes.”

“Two taps for looser, three taps for stop,” he reminds you. “Show me.”

You tap twice on his wrist and he nods in approval, then you tap three times.

“Good girl,” he tells you quietly and your muscles tense up with a shiver. He captures your lips in a kiss, rolling his hips over yours. One of your hands moves to his hip and the other trails into his hair.

The head of his cock keeps grinding over your clit as he moves. You try to pull on his hip to get more friction but he stops.

“So needy,” he says, “be patient.”

You whine in protest, squirming under him.

“Please,” you beg.

“Please what?” Pedro asks, pressing a little on your throat.

“Ohmygod, I need you inside me,” You reply, “Please!”

“Okay querida, I’ll give you what you need,” he allows. He reaches down and guides the tip into your hole. He pushes forward slowly, giving you the first couple of inches.

The way Pedro gasps and moans into your ear makes you dizzy. He’s barely even a third of the way in and you already feel stretched. You grip onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin like teeth. He pushes in farther and you try to keep still and take it.

“Relax,” Pedro says quietly, the hand on your throat sliding off and resting on your collarbone, “Breathe.”

You open your eyes and exhale.

“That’s it,” he says, waiting a moment before continuing, “I’m going to give you more, okay?”

You nod and he places kisses over your cheeks as he pushes forward. Your hands regrip, pawing at his shoulders absently, looking for something to ground you. He’s a lightning rod in your storm of adrenaline.

“I’ve got you,” he says, “You can take it, querida. Doing so good for me.”

His praise loosens the aching stretch inside you. He eases in the rest of the way until you can feel the base of his stomach pressed to your clit.

“Good girl,” His head drops to your shoulder as he groans.

“S-So full, fuck,” you gasp.

“You like being full of me, sweetheart?” His voice strains.

You nod, reaching down to grab his ass cheek, keeping him close to you as you grind up against him.

His breath hitches and you catch what nearly sounds like a whine. He pulls back and pushes into you experimentally, fed by your delicate sounds and breathing.

“Goddamn, you feel so good,” he sighs heavily as he thrusts again, “Taking me so well.”

“Wanna be good for you,” You replies desperately.

“Oh yeah?” He asks menacingly.

You feel his hand slipping back up to your throat.

You nod.

“After being such a bad little slut all day,” He says, “Now you wanna be good for me?”

“Yes,” you squeak as he picks up a slow rhythm to his thrusts.

“Okay sweet girl,” He replies, leaning down to feed you scorching, messy kisses as he fucks you. You wrap your legs around him, forcing his hips closer to yours. You move a hand to the one he has on your throat and grip onto his wrist, pushing it.

He breaks his mouth from yours, easily clued in on what you want.

“If I knew all I had to do to get you under me was put my hands on this pretty little neck, I woulda done it ages ago,” He says, “You look so pretty with your bullseye necklace.”

You imagine his view, the bullseye tattoo between his thumb and first finger framed perfectly in the center of your throat. The thought makes you moan. Your grip on his wrist becomes more insistent.

“Okay,” he acquiesces to your silent plea. “Gonna start real gentle, okay?” He says softly, looking at you for permission.

You marvel at the way he drops in and out of his dominant character, rough all over yet smooth around the edges. Knowing that you get both sides of him—all of him—is intoxicating.

You give a small nod and he slows the rhythm of his thrusts, focusing in on his grip.

It’s not exactly the sensation you expected when he begins to squeeze his hand. He’s pressing in on both sides of your throat and pulses the amount of pressure he applies. It amplifies the feeling of his cock sliding inside you and you catch just the echoes of a misty, heady feeling. You want more.

He lets go and you moan at the loss.

“That feel good?” He asks. It’s dirty talk as much as it is an honest question.

“Yes,” You reply instantly, feeling the desperation setting in, “Yes.” Your hand returns to his wrist, already pleading for more.

“Easy, querida,” He hushes, “I’m taking my time with you.” He gives you a particularly slow, deep thrust.

“Oh god, love when you give it to me deep,” You admit breathlessly.

His hand leaves your throat and hooks your thigh, pulling your knee up higher to give him more access.

“You take it so well, sweetheart,” He praises, rewarding you with more.

He reaches new depths in this position, fucking you in places you swear were previously untouched. You cry out and your hands scrabble for purchase in his hair to his back to his shoulders.

“Fuck, please, please!” You beg.

“Tell me what you want,” he says.

You just whine in response, grabbing at his wrist.

“Tell me,” he commands.

“Choke me!” You finally manage to blurt out, “Please, I want you to choke me!”

“There you go,” He smirks.

“H-Harder, please,” you quietly add.

“So good, telling me what you need,” he replies, somewhere between sweet and wicked, “I’ve got you.”

His hand travels to your throat and he skims his fingertips over your skin before finding his grip, starting to press. As promised, it’s tighter than before.

It’s perfect.

The mist begins to blur everything but the feeling of Pedro fucking you, the sensation crystal clear and torrid. You would scream if you could. Instead, the pleasure stays locked inside you, building and swirling.

You distantly hear Pedro moan and it makes your cunt flush with a new wave of wetness.

He lets go of you and air rushes into your lungs.

“Yes, Pedro!” You exhale.

“Can tell you love it,” He replies with a strained voice, “Getting me all wet while your pussy grips me so fucking tight.”

Your inhibitions fall away with the way he reads your body like a book. There’s no hiding from him.

“Fuck me,” You plead.

He’s happy to obey, picking up speed. It’s hard and fast, slamming your hips with a tightening, growing heat. You know that you’re whimpering out little yes’s and fuck’s but it’s dulled against the lightness in your head.

“Already close again, querida?” That smirk returning to his lips, “You going to come on my cock?”

You let out a choked sob and can only nod in reply.

“Give it to me,” he says, fucking you impossibly harder.

The heat filling you to the brim climbs higher than you can stand.

“Da-Pedro!

Pedro immediately slows to a near stop and his eyes bore into yours. Your hand flies to your mouth.

“Oh,” He says dangerously low, amusement pulling at his lips and dancing in his eyes, “Now what do we have here?”

“Sorry,” You barely whisper. Humiliation rushes to your cheeks. He rolls his hips hard and presses even deeper into you, making a messy whimper tumble from you.

“No, you’re not sorry,” he replies steadily, withdrawing back, “Go ahead. Say it.”

His grip on your throat tightens as he buries his cock inside you.

“Daddy!”

“That’s my girl,” He nearly laughs, beginning to fuck you in a steady rhythm again, “Shoulda known. Such a good little slut, course you wanted Daddy to fuck you, didn’t you?”

You nod frantically.

“Deep breath, querida.”

You inhale and feel his hand squeeze tighter. Blood rushes in your ears and you watch him watch you. Four thrusts more and he releases you, leaving you gasping.

“There you go,” he says, “You love that, don’t you?”

“Yes Daddy,” You reply reflexively.

His hips stutter as he groans.

“Jesus Christ,” He breathes.

He suddenly hooks his arms under yours, pulling you up to sit chest to chest. He wraps one arm around your back to keep you up and his free hand is at your throat again.

“Oh fuck!” You helplessly cry as he fucks up into you, “Daddy!”

He tightens his grip on your throat and everything but Pedro leaves your head. There’s nothing but him, inside you, all around you.

“Make a mess in my lap, baby,” He demands, nosing against your jaw, “Come for me.”

He releases his grip and everything floods through you, burning hot and bursting. You come with your mouth falling open, unable to say a word.

“That’s it, I’ve got you,” he encourages as he fucks you through it, “Give it to me.”

Your soundless scream finally turns into a flurry of gasping sobs as you tremble in his lap, cumming hard.

“Good girl. Fuck, that’s my good girl.”

You’re drawn into the mist that hums quietly in your head. You feel Pedro’s hips slow underneath you and hear him swearing as he unloads into the condom inside you.

Every inch of your body is ringing with dizziness and sunlight and Pedro. You float in the blissful glow.

You’re drifting back down like a leaf falling from a gentle breeze when you realize there are soft sheets and a pillow underneath you. Your face is tucked into Pedro’s neck as he holds you, his quiet voice in your ear.

“You did so good, sweetheart. I’m right here, I got you. Such a good girl,” he murmurs.

You pick your head up a bit to look at him.

“There you are,” he says with a small smile, a hand brushing over your cheek, “Are you okay?”

“Um, yes,” you reply with an incredulous look. Duh. Thought I made that pretty clear when my soul left my goddamn body.

“Alright,” he laughed gently, “No need for the sass. I’m going to get you cleaned up, okay?”

You nod and reluctantly let him go.

He was wearing a condom so you wonder how much mess there could possibly be, but when you pull back the sheets, you realize that your own cum has coated your thighs. Jesus.

Pedro returns with a warm washcloth, gently wiping your skin clean. You watch his careful ministrations for a moment, hesitating to ask him the question on your mind.

“Was that…” You try to piece together the words, “For you, I mean—was that…”

“Mind blowing?” He offers.

“I was going to say extraordinary,” You giggle.

“Earth shattering.”

“Astonishing.”

“Divided life into two eras—before that fuck, and after.”

That assessment finally breaks you with a laugh.

“Yes, it was incredible, querida,” he says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before retreating to the bathroom to get rid of the washcloth.

You sit up a little as you watch him go, knowing that you have a dumb smile on your face. You glance over at your clothes on the floor.

Shit, are you supposed to leave now? This is technically a hook up, so maybe you’re expected to get dressed and go, or slip out in the morning undetected.

What happened these past couple of days didn’t feel like a hookup. That wasn’t Pedro’s intention here, right? He was so intimate and sweet and sincere and…

God, what if you’re being ridiculously naive? What if he does this with every extra he can get his hands on? What if Jess puts concealer on his scene partner’s hickeys every week?

“Hey.”

Pedro’s gentle voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He’s approaching the bed, his gaze following yours to the outfit laying on the hardwood.

He sits down on the edge of the mattress.

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go,” he admits quietly, “And I don’t want you to disappear on me in the morning.”

You just blink at him. How does he know you like this? You think back through your memories with him and try to put your finger on when he had managed to learn you like this.

“You can, if you wa—“ He quickly begins to correct himself.

You interrupt the doubt wavering on his tongue with your lips, kissing him short and fierce.

“You really think I’d want to disappear on you after life-dividing sex?” You smirk.

He smiles, kissing you till you lay back down, and follows after you. He settles alongside you, pushing aside the comforter and opting to pull the blanket from the bottom of the bed over you both. You wonder why until you realize the comforter is soaked with wet spots.

“I’m sorry about the, um… the mess,” You say, a bit of embarrassment painting your cheeks, “that’s never happened before.”

Pedro groans a little.

“Querida, you’re going to get me hard again,” he complains out the feeble warning with a little laugh. “I’m really the first person to make you do that?”

“Yes,” you reply as he wraps his arms around you. You place an arm and a leg over him, resting your head on his chest.

“I don’t think you understand how fucking hot it was,” he says, “I couldn’t care less about clean up. Now I know to put a towel down next time.”

Next time.

Your stomach does silly little butterfly flips.

“You were really good at… um… you know…”

You can feel Pedro beginning to laugh again.

“You are so sweet,” he says, “a minute ago you were begging for me to choke you, now you can’t even say it?”

“Okay, that was kinky me!” You explain, “She’s a whole different person. I don’t know her!”

“Oh I see,” He says in mock realization.

“But really, you were really good at it,” You continue, “You must have done that before.”

“Nope.”

“No way,” You reply incredulously, craning your neck to look up at him, “How did you know how to do it like that?!”

“I did some googling when I got home last night,” He says simply.

“You googled how to choke me?” You hold in your giggle.

“And phoned a friend,” he adds.

Now that piques your interest. You pick your head up to look at him fully.

“You phoned a friend?”

“It’s Hollywood, everyone is kinky!” He defends with a wry smile. “It was just a good friend of mine.”

Your mouth drops open as a name pops into your head.

“Oh my god, it was Oscar Isaac, wasn’t it?” You gasp quietly.

Pedro bites his cheek and fights a smile.

“You called Oscar Isaac and asked him how to choke me?!” You prodded.

Pedro can’t help a proud smirk and gives a nod.

“I mean, the bar is exceptionally low, but that’s one of the nicest things a man has ever done for me!”

“I think doing a little research to make sure you don’t hurt your partner is pretty bare minimum,” he scoffs.

“The bar,” you remind him, demonstrating with a flat hand in front of you, “Exceptionally low.”

“I’m just glad you enjoyed yourself,” he says as you place your head back down.

“Enjoyed is a bit of an understatement,” you reply quietly.

You nuzzle in as he adjusts the blanket back over your shoulder.

You reach your hand up blindly and find the side of his face.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He turns his head, pressing his cheek into your palm.

“You’re welcome, querida.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #fanfiction #the last of us #Joel miller

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iamthatonefangirl · 2 months

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unrequited - harvey specter

now that i'm getting back into the hang of writing hopefully my work quality will improve from whatever this is

send fic ideas!!! all the love on my recent harvey posts is what's keeping me going

also i can only write angst because i am still desperately crushing on my coworker oops

~~~

Your relationship with Harvey was like a ticking time bomb.

You knew that you couldn’t keep this up forever; your feelings for him were too intense. They kept you awake at night, and they kept you from being able to date other men you knew you could like if not for him. Your feelings boiled up inside you day in and day out, and you were forced to suppress them. Harvey Specter was not the relationship type.

You loved him too deeply to think the feelings would just go away one day. No, you would have to cut them off at the source. And that meant leaving not only your firm, but also the city in which you had built your connections, your career, your entire life. All to get away from the one thing you wanted so badly it was beginning to destroy the rest of your life.

He had so easily turned into the main character of your story; it was time to reclaim your position as the protagonist. But that meant outcasting him for good.

When you first started at Pearson Specter, now Specter Litt, you were one of the few associates who Harvey had ever chosen to work directly with him. Years of watching and picking up on how he operated allowed you to grow to your full potential as an attorney at the firm, and for that, you couldn't be more grateful. Which is why even though you no longer worked very closely with him, having been promoted to junior partner, you knew he would be upset to hear your news of departure.

You didn’t want to think about how you would eventually have to quit returning his calls and effectively ghost him to get on with your life.

You expected him to ask what you wanted in return for staying at the firm, and when you would turn down the offer, he would lash out at you. You would leave the office and wouldn’t hear from him again until he called you a month later to check in. This was how it always went with him; it wouldn’t be any different this time around.

Monday morning came around eventually, no matter how much you willed it wouldn’t. Stepping into his office, you were rightfully nervous to broach the topic. “Harvey, do you have a minute?”

He glanced up at you from his desk before replying, “Do any of us around here have a spare minute?” You chuckled at his response and shut the door behind you.

“I’m serious.” He shut his laptop and turned to you. You sat down in front of his desk, hands fidgeting and eyes darting back and forth between him and the files on his desk.

“I’m here to give you my official notice.”

The half-smile he wore when you first walked in shattered. It pained you to see, but you steeled yourself. You knew what to expect next; you just had to grit your teeth and bare through the conversation.

“I’ve been working on finishing up my recent cases over the last few weeks, and so I’m giving you my two-week’s. I’ve already spoken to some of the other partners who have agreed to take over my cases going forward, and I’ll be giving notice to my clients this week.”

He didn’t say anything at all. Now that was uncharacteristic of him.

He soon gathered his thoughts. He averted his eyes as he told you, “No need. I’ll waive your non-compete. You can take your clients with you to wherever you’re going.” He shifted his gaze back to you. “Just answer me this, what did they offer you?”

You didn’t quite understand. “What do you mean?”

He had that serious look on his face, the one he always sported when he realized he was caught in a bind. “The firm you’re leaving me for. What did they offer you to get you to leave?”

“Harvey, they didn’t– I’m not–”

“Senior partner? A higher salary? Because all of those things can be arranged for here, you know that. Just say the word.”

He may have been upset, but he could not possibly have understood how difficult this was for you. His words the firm you’re leaving me for couldn’t have been more true, you were leaving him; no matter how you tried to tell him, you reminded yourself he couldn’t know that.

You paused a moment to exhale before telling him the truth.

“I’m not leaving to go to another firm, you don’t need to waive my non-compete.”

His lips parted ever so slightly as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I’m going home, Harvey. I’m leaving for San Francisco.”

~~~

He had no idea what you were talking about. Home? How hadn’t this city become your home? This firm? Him?

You rendered him temporarily speechless. He tried to offer you more and more incentive to stay, but you refused.

“I’ll double your salary. I’ll give you a bigger bonus than you’ve ever seen in your life.” You declined. “I’ll promote you. You can be elected a senior partner within the week, and I’ll pay your buy-in fee.”

Why was he trying so hard to get you to stay?

No matter how enticing the offers he made you might have been, you had one goal in mind: protecting your peace. Protecting your future from a man who would continue to take more and more parts of you until you were nothing apart from him. You had to leave before you couldn’t find your way back without him.

“Harvey, I’m leaving, That’s final.” You stood and began for the door.

“How dare you?” You heard from behind you.

Suddenly angered, you turned back to him, “Excuse me?”

“After everything I’ve done for you, you’re leaving, just like that. You’re going to drop everything just for some nostalgic memory of where you grew up?”

“How dare you! Don’t you speak to me that way, Harvey. You have no idea why it is that I’m leaving!” You yelled back at him, finger pointing in his face.

“So tell me!”

“You want the truth, Harvey? I’m in love with you. And I will never escape you any other way. So forget my two week’s notice. I’ll handle all my affairs from home. You’ll have my letter of resignation within the hour.”

With what little dignity you felt you had left, you walked out of the room with your head held high.

~~~

He had no idea, obviously. Of course he felt a connection to you; he trained you, taught you how the world of corporate law worked.

How long had you felt that way? Is there something he could’ve done to avoid this whole situation? His most promising junior partner was leaving, and there was nothing he could do about it. It was his own fault entirely.

He was determined to get the chance to apologize when you came back with your resignation letter. He would straighten out the situation, explain that you could still work there. It wasn’t the end of the world.

Of course, he got called away from his office for a period of time. The letter was there when he returned, and his hopes of keeping you were gone.

~~~

You knew that in the books, the idea of people saying things in the heat of the moment were common occurrences. You didn’t think it could ever happen to you in real life, though. You intended for him to never discover this truth you hid from him. It was simpler that way.

But of course, you were wrong, and it all came out before you had a chance to bite your tongue. Now you had to clean out your desk quickly and say your goodbyes quietly.

~~~

Three months later, you were settling into your new position. Since you anticipated spending another two weeks in New York, you had a whole month between your resignation and the time you were expected to start in California.

You were finally starting to live your life more for yourself. You thought about Harvey less and less each day, until you could go out and meet another man without feeling like you were cheating on him. Crazy how you never got to call him yours, but still felt disloyal whenever you tried to go out with someone else while you were still in New York.

Although you didn’t have the close relationship with your new supervisor that you had with Harvey, you felt welcomed and supported by your coworkers. You hated to admit that life was dull for a great number of weeks as you went through Harvey withdrawals, but it was true. Things were finally starting to get better until you got a knock on your door one day.

~~~

You’d blocked Harvey’s number on your phone for a great many number of reasons. You never expected him to just show up at your new place, though.

“Harvey? What are you doing here?” you questioned.

“Can I come in?” You allowed it.

“You haven’t been taking my calls,” he pointed out to you, to which you replied, “I blocked you, Harvey. Why are you not in New York right now?”

“I needed to see you,” was his only response. And with just those five little words, all the work you’d done to get over him was erased. It allowed your mind to flood with ideas of him wanting you in any way other than professionally or platonically. Damn you, Harvey, you thought.

“For what?”

“I want you to come back.” Unhelpful answer.

“Why?”

“You sure ask a lot of questions, don’t you? I want you to come back because I trained you, and you’re an asset to the firm that we’re losing out on.”

“So you’re only here for a return on your investment in me.”

As you said that to him, he realized he fucked up.

“Look, I didn’t mean–”

“Yes! You absolutely did! You show up here, out of nowhere, telling me that you need my skills to benefit the firm, not that you might just want me to come back. Not that maybe I myself am beneficial to the firm, or even that you just miss me! God, can you really not acknowledge what I told you the last time I saw you?”

He paused. “Look, I know what you said. Yet still, I came.”

“And what does that mean, exactly? That you’ve suddenly come to terms with it and realized that you love me too?”

He didn’t respond at all.

“I’m not coming back, Harvey. I need a life separate from you. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

He shook his head in agreement. “I’m sorry I can’t be what you need me to be.” He turned towards the doorway and saw himself out as the tears started welling up in your eyes.

Those were the last words you heard from him for a very long time.

~~~

masterlist

#fem reader #harvey specter #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter x you #self indulgent #self insert #suits #suits tv #my writing #angst #sad ending

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haloberry · 11 months

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Tina and Tubbo brought up an amazing point during the After Purgatory Podcast right now.

The Federation really put their asses onto this Island just so they realize Quesadilla Island is Heaven compared to what they could do. They put them in Hell so everything else could look better in comparison.

Though, Tina genuinely getting mad at Foolish in real life and not being able to look him in the eyes is fucking amazing I WAS CRYINGGGG

And Bad’s argument about what a ‘bug’ was, was also amazing. 10/10

AND TUBBO APPARENTLY CRIED AFTER DAY 2 THEN POSTED THE PHOTO AFTER???

Personally, I would love it if lorewise, when they realize the Islanders go sent to Hell instead of the getaway. They just fire the eye guy and give a really shitty apology to the Islanders about the event lmao.

Like “Oop, sorry we didn’t know, we was too busy fixing the main island. We fired the guy, he was kinda unprofessional ngl. Anyways, here’s Cucurucho but Pinker!”

#qsmp #qsmp purgatory #qsmp liveblog #qsmp blue team #qsmp soulfire #qsmp tubbo #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp tina #qsmp thoughts #qsmp theory

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omaano · 4 months

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SW Hades AU May Status Update

I wanted to make a dedicated post about what I’m currently working on for the Star Wars meets Hades AU that looks more consistent than just sharing bits and pieces whenever I’m tagged in a Last Line Challenge. Because what else do I have but the poly sketch requests and this AU for my weekends? (If nothing else I know that the Hades AU has got me XD)

Other updates: June - July - August

For now Obi-Wan and Maul are stuck at the same stage: they are both lined, have their base colours down as well as the two adjustment layers of coloured lighting.

I suspect if I were ever to get through the agonozing few hours of shading Obi-wan’s face it would be mostly smooth sailing from there. The problem is that there are at least 2 - if not 3 - separate stages where the shaded face looks like I have no idea what I’m doing, and you need to get through the whole thing before it really comes together 😅 on the other hand Hades 2 has a lot of the directional shading I might need for his character art so that might help to get me there.

It also needs to be said that Obi-Wan comes with the extra disadvantage that is the entire background behind him. I’m really hyped to line it finally, it is quite a challenge, but at the same time I’m slowly coming to the realization that I have no idea how I will colour it. Hades backgrounds are so so pretty and full of details and gorgeous colours, and while I’m not delusional enough to think I could match that on first try… I still wish I could, you know? At the same time I will have to erase or recolour a lot of my lines, which will hurt quite a bit, I imagine. I’m so bad at killing my darlings 😅 also I hate laying down flat colours. I just find it very difficult to immerse myself in that process, while lining and shading can have their flow.

I had covered up so many lines and details in Maul’s spider parts it’s a miracle I didn’t cry XD However, tips on grouping my shadows and allowing the shape to speak for itself and the details in them are very helpful and on point.

Worrying over writing dialogue for them is also not as far down my to-do list as I wish it were. I have a good enough idea for a quip for Obi-wan, but Maul? He’d need a whole melodramatic rant of his own XD

Aphra has gotten some new lines and I had fixed the satchel I had forgotten the last time I shared the rough sketch for her, thanks to the new character art for Hades 2! Seeing Odysseus and Hermès’s updated looks were great helps here, so I might as well move on to lining her, and finally adding another female character to the roster on top of Ahsoka!

And then there is the biggest update on these little guys below! I will need to clean up the ones I had drawn for Cobb and Boba (and Din) well over a year ago, but with these my version of chtonic companions are done, and thanks to @lesquatrechevrons I have a full list of keepsakes for each character as well. I’m not very good at drawing these little tchotchkes (I say with Rex’s blaster right there LOL) but I hadn’t been very good at lineart or cell shading when I started this project either, so through forced practice I’m determined to change that :D

(It’s not a screwdriver under Boga, it’s one of Cody’s antennas. “It will grow back, don’t worry,” he says as he snaps it off his pauldron and hands it over to Din. Rex backs him up on that one without question. They can't lie for shit but trolling the shiny is their thing.)

Additional fun fact: the reason why I’d picked up the chtonic companions concepts was because I’d been poking at minor details in the background behind Maul (aside from the Chaos doors), and I started adding credits and recoloured nectar to the corner (before I realized that they wouldn’t be visible once the character interaction comes up oops), and I tried to figure out to whose keepsakes Maul would react favorably. I also mixed up companion dolls and keepsakes, so that’s why the Ahsoka doll came to being (I also forgot that that one belongs to Rex, and not Ahsoka herself but uh… they are close enough that they should count by proxy anyway. It’s not Obi-wan’s cup of tea and that should be enough!). Also bless @mapleowl18 for suggesting Lil Soka as companion for Rex ❤️

So this is the current state of this AU project right now. I have my lists and notes, a few scribbled pose ideas in my sketchbook for Sabine (she might be next, unless Bo and her Nite Owls make a comeback), Satine and Omega (with Batcher), as well as some angry scribbles and question marks for Quinlan (who has apparently made his way back into this AU even though he didn’t get a little icon of his own originally orz), and Obi-wan The Second that would stand with Cody post reunion, but I cannot make that one work for now 😅

#I have absolutely nothing for a very long time and then a lot of SOMEthings - this is how we roll apparently #I wish I could spend as much time on these as I wanted to and keep dreaming about them but my attention span still sucks T^T #I will try to make posts like these a regular thing what do we think?#maybe that will keep me on track #hades au #my art #obi wan kenobi #darth maul #doctor aphra #star wars fanart #wip #work in progress #long post #artists on tumblr #sw fanart #hades au update

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wish-i-were-heather · 2 months

Text

A FOOL FOR YOU ⤵ GRAYSON HAWTHORNE X READER

ABOUT: 2187 words, no use of y/n (part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5)

STORY: drunk grayson accidentally pins you against the wall. he's A mess.

WARNINGS: none really, just grayson being a bad drunk flirt

A/N: THIS IS A REPOST OF MY OWN FIC!!! I'm posting it again because my account got deleted, but I still want to keep all my fics on my blog. Thanks to everyone for helping me get this all back.

Grayson Davenport Hawthorne didn’t drink.

He would never willingly put himself into a position where he wasn’t in the right state of mind. It could result in complete humiliation. One sip too many and he was at risk of turning into a stumbling, slurring mess that blurted whatever was on his mind. At least that’s how Jameson was when he was drunk, and Grayson did not want to find out if he was any different. Making a fool of himself was not something he was exactly fond of.

That was his brother’s job.

So, whenever the four brothers went out, he never drank. Nash would always insist on being the driver, but in the end he would have just a little too much and Grayson would take them home. He never minded; it was easier to deal with someone else’s lack of sobriety rather than his own.

Apparently, Xander had been trying to get ahold of Grayson for twenty minutes now. That’s what he told you when he called you.

“He’s not answering my texts,” Xander complained.

“Have you tried getting up and going to him?” You offered.

“Ew, no, that’s too far. The house is too big.”

You laughed. “But you expect him to walk over to you?”

“Or you walk over to him,” he said nonchalantly. “I don't mind.

With an amused sigh, you stood up and began the not-so-long journey to Grayson’s wing. “Fine, fine, I’m going. What do I get for helping?”

“Hmm,” Xander mused. “A smile.”

“A smile, how generous.”

“From the one and only Xander Hawthorne, I know. Now tell Gray to get his ass over here.”

As you made your way up the stairs, you passed a hallway, down which you briefly glanced. You did a double take when you realized Xander was casually sprawled across a lounge sofa at the end of it, staring at something on his phone screen. You raised your eyebrow at him; he’d been closer to Grayson than you.

He glanced up and noticed you making a face at him, and smiled.

You rolled your eyes and kept walking.

Xander was most definitely being dramatic. It took maybe three minutes at the very most to reach where you expected Grayson to be. You noticed the door to his room was open just a bit, a sliver of light coming from inside. But not enough for you to see him.

Since it was partially open, you knocked on the exposed door frame instead. You didn’t want to just barge in, but after thirty seconds he didn’t give you the go-ahead to enter. You knocked again, and still no response.

“Grayson?” You called.

No response.

Finally, you just walked in. “Grayson, Xander want-” You cut yourself off when you saw him.

Grayson Hawthorne was standing in the middle of the room, facing away from you and the door. But that wasn’t the problem, no. He was standing shirtless, his hands fumbling with the waistband of his sweatpants, having just put them on.

Sweatpants?

Who was this man and what did he do to Grayson?

“Ah, shit- sorry, sorry-” you said quickly, turning away and starting to leave. This was clearly not a good time. But you heard a stumbling sound from behind you and the sound of something breaking, and you had to turn back around to make sure he was okay.

Grayson was leaning one arm against his desk, staring at the ground where a vase had fallen.

“Oops.”

He kept staring at it, then stepping forward and almost placing his bare foot on the broken glass before apparently deciding that was a bad idea, and stepping away from the shards.

He stumbled forward and barely steadied himself and finally glanced back at you. His eyes were unfocused, his normally meticulously done hair wet and completely disheveled. And he was still wearing only a pair of sweatpants.

Which he hadn’t managed to tie correctly, so they hung loosely on his hips, almost too low-

You tore your gaze away from his sweats and looked back up at his face. He kept a completely straight expression as the two of you made eye contact. When he spoke, however, he sounded the complete opposite.

“Hi.”

His voice cracked like a twelve year old’s.

Before you could respond, he continued. “Where are you going?”

You looked back down at the floor in front of you as he made another attempt to step closer. “I- uh…” you felt awkward looking at him when he was half-naked.

But then again, whatever was wrong with him was probably more important.

Plus, he didn’t seem to care.

“Xander wanted me to get you. He said he texted you but you didn’t respond,” you explained hastily, turning around to leave. “But you’re busy, so I guess just, uh, go find him later.”

“I was swimming,” he blurted. You froze and looked back again, staring at him, confused. What the hell had happened to him?

“Yeah, I- I can tell. Your hair’s wet.”

Grayson ran a hand through his hair as if just realizing that. “Oh, it is.”

You look at a tentative step forward. “Grayson, are you alright?”

“Mhm, yeah, I’m alright, I’m fine.” The words were muttered mindlessly, meaninglessly.

Grayson stepped closer to you again, staring down at you. And that’s when you caught it- the faint smell of alcohol on his breath. That might’ve explained his strange behavior, but the fact that he was drinking in the first place only raised more questions.

“I- Grayson, are you drunk?”

“What?” He explained, his hand dramatically going up to his chest- his bare chest. “No, no, I don’t- I don’t get drunk. That’s what Jamie does, not me. I’m not drunk.”

There was a brief pause.

And then he hiccuped.

“Maybe a little.”

You scoffed, a little. Yeah right. He was a mess. You wanted to ask him what had happened. why he’d been drinking, for how long- had he been swimming drunk? But you knew that he was too out of it to give you a proper answer. So instead you decided to help him, to spare at least what was left of his dignity.

Xander would have to wait.

“Here, Grayson,” you began. “You need to lie down.”

“No I don’t, I can stand up perfectly good,” he insisted. But his balance was as poor as his grammar and he once again stumbled forward, this time reaching out to you to prevent his fall.

Grayson’s hands grabbed onto your shoulders and he was now a lot closer to you than you’d intended for him to be. He was leaning forward, but because of his height his face was just above your eye level.

You tried to grab his wrists and back up, failing to fight the heat rising in your face. “Gray, you really need-”

As you stepped back, he followed, and suddenly your back hit the wall. Grayson was still standing awkwardly over you, using you to hold himself up, when his hands slipped off your shoulders. Onto the wall behind you.

Grayson Hawthorne was leaning against the wall with both hands, accidentally pinning you between them.

But he didn’t seem to notice.

He stared at you, tilting his head curiously. “Hi,” he said again.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak. Or move, for that matter.

Grayson stared down at you and you really had no choice but to look back up at him. His arms kept you essentially trapped against the wall, but you doubted he realized what he was doing. He was drunk. But the fact that he was blissfully unaware didn’t make your face any less red.

His gray eyes were surprisingly gentle as he looked at you. His hair was still messy, having settled in the position it landed in after he ran his fingers through it. When he spoke, his voice was slow.

“I- I think-” he was interrupted by a hiccup. “That you… you have a very nice face.”

That’s not the direction you thought he was going. “Thank you, but you should really-”

“Can I have it?”

You stared incredulously at him. “What?”

“I want it.”

“You can’t have my face, Grayson.”

He frowned. “Oh.”

Before you could respond, he promptly reached his arms around your neck, clingling loosely to you like a koala, and leaned down closer. His weight almost brought you down with him. “You need to let go,” you told him gently.

“But I like it here,” he whined. “It’s cozy.”

“You’re making a fool of yourself. You couldn’t help but chuckle, though you were still struggling to hold him up.

“But I’m a fool for you.”

You choked on your own spit and had to cough for a moment before responding.

“That was surprisingly poetic. Now get off me.”

With just a gentle push, Grayson stumbled back. But you had to grab his arm again to keep him from accidentally stepping on the broken vase that was still on the ground.

Your mind was spinning; so much was happening all at one: Grayson Hawthorne was shirtless and drunk, stumbling all over the place, and you’d just managed to escape him pinning you against the wall. Intentional or not, it had your heart pounding.

Not necessarily in a bad way?

“Okay, okay,” you told him, still having to hold him up. “Let’s get you to bed.”

But Grayson protested. “No, no bed. I don’t wanna sleep.”

“You don’t have to sleep, but please, at least sit down.”

“Why?” He looked genuinely confused, and as annoying as he was, it was adorable.

“Because you’re a big clumsy mess right now, and you’re either going to hurt yourself or me.”

Grayson’s expression softened and he leaned down so that he was at your level. He reached his hand out and cupped your face. “I would never hurt you,” he whispered, sounding offended that you would even mention it. “Never.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his sincerity, even if he was drunk. “I know, Grayson, but you’re not exactly yourself right now.” You forced yourself to bring his hand back down to his side.

He didn’t really have any choice after that because you began to drag him over to his bed, and his legs were too wobbly to resist. You managed to get him to sit down, and he let himself collapse backwards. You had to help move his legs all the way onto the bed.

As you did, Grayson looked up at you with a lopsided grin. “You’re nice,” he said bluntly. “I like you.”

“I like you too, Grayson,” you told him honestly. “Just… try to relax. Maybe put on a shirt?”

He looked down, as if just now realizing that his top half had been exposed the entire conversation. “Nah, it’s too hot.”

“Yeah, but you don’t see me walking around without a shirt,” you countered.

Grayson shrugged, his eyelids drooping. “You can take it off if you have to.”

You rolled your eyes, your cheeks growing impossibly warmer. As unlike himself as it was, you found drunk Grayson Hawthorne to be pretty endearing. But he would absolutely despise you if you told him that in the morning, so you decided to let him be.

Thankfully, there was no more arguing. Now that he was laying down, Grayson was already half asleep, still smiling like an idiot. Before leaving, you gently brushed a strand of wet hair out of his face with your hand.

Xander feigned disappointment when you returned without his brother.

“You’re not Grayson.”

“No,” you chuckled. “I’m not.”

He looked at you impatiently, but you could tell whatever he needed Grayson for wasn’t that big of a deal, because he wasn’t upset. “Where is he?”

“Drunk.”

Xander completely froze as he registered your words. He stared at you with wide eyes like he was waiting for you to say you were just kidding. But you didn’t, of course, because it was the truth. “You’ve got to be faxing kidding me.”

“What?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he shook his head. “Max is rubbing off on me. But you’re trying to tell me Grayson is drunk?”

“And now passed out in his bed,” you confirmed. “Go see for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

Xander practically jumped up. “Oh, I most definitely will! Maybe I can wake him up and get him to say something stupid, and then I can-” He cut himself off and pulled out his phone. Before you could try to save Grayson’s dignity, he was off.

You watched as Xander ran off to tease Grayson, you found yourself smiling. Even if he was drunk, there was no denying the warmth that had spread through you when he’d cupped your face and whispered those slurred but genuine words.

Maybe, just maybe, there was more to Grayson Hawthorne than met the eye, more than his grumpy, serious facade. And maybe, just maybe, you liked what you were discovering.

But that was a problem for future you and hungover Grayson.

For now, you let the moment play over in your mind, wondering if he really meant what he said.

#grayson hawthorne #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson x reader #the inheritance games #the grandest game #the hawthorne legacy #the brothers hawthorne #tig #tig fanfic #tgg #repost #mightier than your sword𓂃🖋

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