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2knightt · 6 months

Note

Do you think u could write abt the gang being (separately) absolutely obsessed with the reader. Like they adore everything she does, they can’t get enough of her. To the point where the rest of the gang starts releasing them abt it, meanwhile reader is like completely oblivious lol

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ heaven and hell were words to me.⋄ 𓍯

…IN WHICH! the greasers are totally obsessed!

tags/warnings: no confessions—just the gang having a crush, gang being literally whipped, them being a little odd, kinda toxic!johnny LFMAO, nothing else to my knowledge

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ i’m just working…working hard so i can please you.(shout out to ema/corvyes/loml for that ref.) but if i get a req asking me for like the gng confessing to you—i will do it. trust.

Dallas Winston

WHEN HE’S DRUNK, YOU’RE ALLLL HE TALKS ABOUT LMFAOOOO

“i’m tellin’ you—there ain’t a girl like her.”

dallas would repeat after what felt like this 5th drink of the night. buck is sick of him, two-bit regrets dragging him along, and dallas just wants to tell them how good you looked today.

when he sees you walking home, to school, or to work he WILL tag along. HE DOESN’T GAF IF YOU TELL HIM TO TAKE A HIKE!

actually, he kinda does. you’re like the only person he listens to.

LMFAOOO THE GANG THREATENS TO CALL YOU OVER WHENEVER DALLAS IS DOING SMTH STUPID

like whenever you threaten a kid ur gna tell santa.

“dallas, i’m gonna tell y/n what you did last week.”

“??if you do, i’ll beat your head in, soda.”

“YIKES..i’m gonna have to tell her that too…”

“…don’t, she’d be so mad at me😔😒.”

THE GANG TEASES DALLAS THE WORST(besides ponyboy) ABOUT YOU LFNAOAOAOAO

like they’re shoving him toward you, nudging him at even the slightest mention of you, giggling as they tell him they seen you today.

“look, it’s your girlfriend.”

“steve, shut up! she ain’t deaf!”

—

“GO SEE HER!”

“OW—i mean—hi, y/n.”

“did you…trip? or did you mean to bump into me?”

“yeah, sorry or whatever. some IDIOT back there pushed me.”

—

“guess who i saw..🥰🥰”

“who?”

“your wife…”

“can you NOT.”

despite all that, you somehow, still don’t know how he feels about you. how? we’ll never know. it’s beyond the human mind.

his friends try and hint at you that the big, bad greaser has a school girl crush on you. do you get what they’re trying to say? no. but that’s okay, you’re just a girl.

lowkey pisses dallas off but that’s okay cuz he prefers admiring from afar. DOES HOWEVER ASK YOU TO HANG OUT AND CONSIDERS THEM A DATE IN HIS HEAD TO KEEP HIM SANE LFMAO

“you wanna go see this drag race tomorrow?”

“sure! i don’t have work then. uhm, pick me up at my place!”

“alright, cool.”

‘yeah..,it’s date🥱😍’ — dallas’ brain.

Johnny Cade

‘johnny, if you even fucking stutter when you talk to her today—you’re gonna have to drink pickle juice.’

“oh, hi. i didn’t see you there, johnny. ‘m sorry.”

“o-oh—it’s alright.”

‘well, shit.”

he thinks he looks like such a fucking loser when he talks to you omfg😭😭

the gang tries to tell him he might have a shot but he thinks they’re just telling him that because he’s their friend. :(

HEAVILY admires from afar. like seriously he’s a fucking stalker

WAIT LMFOAOO HE’D BE THE TYPE OF GUY TO ACCIDENTALLY STALK YOU LIKE HE’D FOLLOW YOU PLACES FROM AFAR LMFAOAOAOOAOA

what a little freak

anyways

he accidentally lets things slip to let you know he’s better than any other guy trying to go after you. like if you had a shitty ex—he’s preaching that he’d ‘never treat you like that, he can’t imagine that a guy with a brain ever would.’

johnny does everything to keep your attention on HIM and nobody else when your friends try and talk to you when you two are out together. like you could be having a conversation with him and he’d be just pouting in the background with his arms crossed.

“y/n, look. they got that shirt you was talkin’ ‘bout. let’s go check it out. c’mon.” “oh—alright! bye, viv!😊” “yeah, bye viv.😒”

side eyes the gang whenever they bring you up in conversation

“johnny and y/n sittin’ in a tree—“

“😒🤨”

“alright.”

he tries to subtly hint that he really likes you and that you’re his type but it’s not subtle at ALL.

“y’know, if i were to have a girlfriend, i’d wish she was like you.”

—

“my type? uhm, it’d probably be someone-“ and he goes on to describe you.

Ponyboy Curtis

‘holy fuck that’s literally y/n walking towards me??!! does she know i’m here—does she even know me-wow she looks good in red. i mean—SHE’S WAVING OH MY GOD.’

HE IS SUCH A WRECK I CANTTT

ponyboy is the type to stare off into space in your direction and dream about how well he’d treat you if he was your man!!

yk how bitches be like ‘my man, my man!’ whenever they talk about their crush?? he’s all ‘my girl, my girl!’ WUAGRMRNEE

the gang was so confused on why he was so eager to go to school all of a sudden?? and why he cares about his appearance just slightly more than usual?? …is that soda’s shirt he’s wearing?-

two-bit was the first one to realize what was happening when he seen ponyboy and you talk in the halls. that wasn’t the giveaway, though.

it was the way he stared at you like you were the only girl alive and everyone else was just gone. two-bit was almost moved to tears to see ponyboy all grown😞😞!!!

“is tha’ your girlfriend? that why you couldn’t wait ‘til monday?”

“shut up!”

“ouuu, wait until the gang hears ‘bout this!”

“YOU AIN’T TELLIN’ ‘EM NOTHIN’!”

ever since — it has been hell on earth for ponyboy. dallas brings you up every time ponyboy gets smart, johnny giggles at every kissing scene at a movie nudges him, soda and darry had to give him ‘the talk,’ (soda just made it worse by making snide remarks.) and steve never stopped poking fun at him.

two-bit tried to get you to spill the beans on how you felt about him, but all you’d do was huff and ignore him. FINE THEN😒!—is what he always thought.

soda, johnny and two-bit all let ponyboy rant about you.

“LIKE, BRO. my girl, my girl! she’s so cute and smart. LIKE SHE’S TOTALLY MY DREAM.”

—

“that’s so cute ☹️” - soda

“SHE WANTS YOU SOO BAD” - two-bit

“just go tell her, man.” - johnny

does everything to impress you stoppp 😭😭!! pony is trying harder in school, using less hair grease, wearing darry’s cheap cologne when he’s not looking, etc.

HE’S SO SILLY I LOVE HIM!!!

Sodapop Curtis

delusional king!!! yes soda, let the voices in your head tell you that she wants you so bad!!🫶🫶

swear to goddd he thinks y’all are meant to be. you tipped him when he was working at the cash register and he was sooo in love

sorry in my head he’s a hopeless romantic

cause a) you were gorgeous, b) kind enough to tip him, and c) most likely rich💯💯

when he seen you at random places with your friends—soda would get so excited LMFAOOO

STOP HE’D HOUND PONY FOR YOUR NAME

“bro they probably go to your school—just lemme look at your yearbook!”

“no??? you weirdo???”

“please??!! i’ll do the dishes or something!”

“….get me a pack of cigarettes and i’ll tell you.”

“OKAY🥰🥰”

stole them but pony never said how to get them so who gaf!!!

SODA WOULD TOTALLY WRITE YOUR FIRST INITAL + HIS LMFAOOAOAOAOAA

or he’d see who’s last name went best with curtis or your last name!!!1!1!1

he’s crazy insane over you did i say that already

whenever you come by the dx—he’d give you shit for free while you insist to pay.

“jus’ take it.”

“i can’t—i’d feel terrible.”

“it’s alright, no one has to know. right?”

he’d flash his million dollar smile, pushing your coke and chips close to you, inciting you to just take the food.

WAJENEDKD he wants u so bad it’s. so terrible.

steve hates his rambles

“YOU SHOULDA SEEN THE WAY ME AND HER WAS TALKING—SHE’S SO INTO MEEEE”

“yeah, she wants you!!! shut up now!!”

Darry Curtis

nobody knows. it’s like a top secret only darry knows. the gang has their suspicions but they can never really know why darry is suddenly so adamant on going to go get him, soda, and pony’s hair done at the salon.

they alllll can see that he only really talks to you—but at the same time he does that weird ass dad stance where they stand with their arms crossed and legs far apart LMFAOOOOO

darry thinks you’re like…model fine btw.!!!!!

BROOO WHEN YOU LIKE UNCONSCIOUSLY MASSAGE HIS HEAD WHEN YOURE CUTTING IT—HE’S SOO READY TO JUST ASK YOU OUT

darry doesn’t know what it is but goddamn!! you have him in a spell!!

“c’mon—we gotta go to the salon again.”

“….we just went?”

“TWO WEEKS AGO. it’s about time we go AGAIN.”

does in fact work a little extra just so he can see you. he’s that much of a loverboy i fear.

HE DOES ACTUALLY NOT WAIT TO ASK YOU OUT

like, among all the gang, he’s the only one mature enough to actually flirt with you properly & to ask if you’re single.

darry’s fucking down like that.

AWWHHH HE TOTALLY BUYS YOU FLOWERS AS A ‘THANK YOU’ GIFT LOL

flexs his strength around you to prove he’s worthy !!! DARRY LOVEEESSS SHOWING OFF WHEN YOU’RE LOOKING

megara + hercules methink…..

you two probably started hanging out as ‘friends.’ …yeah right!!!!

he’s driving you around as you be his pretty little passenger princess, he’s offering to buy you things when you two are out, etc, etc.

darry might not know how to show that he likes you, but trust me, the second that you look a little too far into his actions—it gets obvious.

like maybe too obvious idk.

Steve Randle

HELLLOOOO??? HE IS TOTALLY SHOWING OFF HIS GYMNASTICS MOVES AROUND YOU

“bro, bro! (yes he’d call you bro. idgaf.) watch what i can do!!😊😊” “wowwww, steve that’s so cool.”

geeks out near you. when you aren’t around the average person would see him and go ‘jesus christ, he literally might beat my ass.’ but when you’re around, they might think, ‘why is that scary looking guy talking about cars and comic books rn??’

you bring out the nerd in him in the best way possible🫶😊 BECAUSE THAT MEANS HE LIKE LIKES YOUUUUUUU

and it’s so obvious to the gang bc wdym steve told you all about DC comics while all they got was a ‘yeah, it’s alright.’ …hm…..

soda NEVER shuts the fuck up and him and his little girlfriend. NEVERRREE

“why’re you so pouty today? y/n ain’t say hi?”

“bro, shut up!”

steals for you and gives them to you all proud like he paid for it LMFAO

tries to be sooo cool around you but the second you bring up the latest batman comic he’s all “OMGOMGOMGOMG IT WAS SOO GOOD!! DID YOU SEE THE-“ he’s a loser what can i say.

dallas totally flirts with you in front of steve just to piss him off LOLLL like when he sees dallas twirling your hair around his finger steve is just all “???🤨🤨😡😡”

and then becomes your knight in shining armour and swoops you away as he glares daggers at dally!!!!<3

Two-bit Mathews

he becomes the funniest man on the planet i’m not joking

he says jokes that anybody and everybody will laugh at. just because he wants to see you laugh at what he says for his delusions

two-bit thinks like ‘she laugh=she likes me’

he’s not the brightest but it’s okay

HE MAKES IT SOOO KNOWN THAT HE LIKES YOU LFMAOOOOOO

“you’re lookin’ pretty? who’s the fella?” / “gee, i didn’t believe when they said they seen an angel walkin’ around until now.” / “well, now you owe me dinner.”

shit like that

two thinks he’s soooo smooth…smh.

DALLAS AND PONYBOY SO BADLY WANTS HIM SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY ABOUT YOU LMFAOOO

they keep on telling him just to confess already but then two gets all giggly and shy and goes “omg guys noooo🤭🤭🤭🫣🫣”

just coincidentally runs into you everywhere you go!!! (literally has eyes everywhere. he’s weird. he’s odd.)

follows you around like a lost puppy and lowkey kinda gossips. idk.

#2knightt #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #dallas winston x reader #johnny cade x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #steve randle x reader #darry curtis x reader #two bit x reader #two bit mathews x reader

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irisintheafterglow · 11 months

Text

blood moonlit, must be counterfeit

summary: a guy at a party has a really good dynamight costume, and you two get to talking about your favorite heroes. (pro!bakugo x you)

wc: 1.68k

cw/tags: swearing ofc cuz it's bakugo, mentions of drinking and alcohol, halloween party, first meeting, emotionally constipated katsuki and reader is kinda oblivious lol

note: NEW HALLOWEEN HEADER BABY also this idea had me by the throat so i needed to write it down before it consumed my entire psyche. i'm back to writing for bakugo again because iykyk and halloween fics are giving me a lot of motivation right now. hope you enjoy!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

“I have to admit–your costume is pretty damn good.”

“Yeah? Just ‘pretty good?’”

“Mhmm. Almost looks like the real thing,” you remark, taking another sip of the dangerously sweet jungle juice in your cup. It's an unreadable mix of bad ideas and bold flirtation, perfect for a Halloween party of barely 21 adults. The blonde guy beside you on the worn leather couch tilts his head slightly like he's re-affirming what you just said in his mind. “I think the real Dynamight would be impressed.”

“Would he, now,” he huffs under his breath, mouth curling into an unreadable smirk. He exhales a quick breath of what you think is amusement through his nose, eyes flicking over your body for the umpteenth time since he sat down with you. It makes your face heat up and you casually avert your gaze downward, catching more details of his costume that you didn’t notice before.

The gauntlets were obviously the star of the arrangement, covered in numerous scratches, burns, and dents that attested to their “battle” usage. The boots were impressive, too, and you wondered how long it took to place every individual orange eyelet over the front of each calf. The cinder block rectangles sitting on his broad shoulders truly looked like real stone, solid like the toned muscle holding them up. It was the domino mask that threw you off the most, though. The guy must have been wearing bright red contacts, or something, because to look so similar to the actual Pro should have been considered a crime.

“Who’d you come to the party with?”

“Just some friends,” he replies, shrugging an infuriatingly sexy shoulder. His entire look was putting the real Dynamight to shame, in your opinion. He nods upward in the direction of a guy in an equally accurate Deku costume standing with a very convincing Shoto lookalike. “They dared me to wear this and I lost the bet.”

“Must have been some bet, if you’re moping over here like a toddler.” The shrewdness of your words escapes you until they’re already past your lips; thankfully, he just smirks again and leans his head back, resting an arm on the back of the sofa.

“I’ll ignore that you said that, 'cause you're clearly intoxicated” he mutters, shooting you a brutal side-eye. Thanks to the alcohol, though, you’re far from deterred.

“How gracious,” you chuckle and his smirk gets a little more arrogant. “What was the bet?”

“Some dumb drinking contest. That asswipe in the green can put down more shots than he looks.” He scowls and you fight down the urge to giggle at his bitter expression. He was the only guy you’ve ever seen that could make a grumpy face look hot. The only guy besides Bakugo himself, of course. “I wouldn’t have worn this shit to a party to save my life.”

“What, Dynamight isn’t your favorite Pro?”

“I’m more of an All Might guy,” he replies nonchalantly. He appreciates the classic heroes. Good sign. “If I had to choose a different one, I’d probably say Jeanist.”

“Jeanist is pretty cool. My best friend had a cardboard cutout of Eraserhead in her closet growing up.” He barks out a laugh and it startles you, but a mysterious feeling in your stomach wants to make him do it again. “What do you think of the current gen of heroes?” He hums thoughtfully, running his tongue over his top lip and you swallow back your drool.

“Red Riot’s a good guy. Deku pisses me the fuck off, but he’s got a good head on his shoulders. Same thing with Pinky and that Half-and-Half asshat. Chargebolt…” His expression turns into a frown so deep you’re worried that Chargebolt killed his family or something heinous like that.

“What about him?”

“He’s just dumb. If given the choice between his life and a grain of sand, I’d take the sand,” he deadpans and you choke unexpectedly, wincing as your drink travels up the wrong tube and into your nose. His eyes widened in concern, reaching out to pat your back but deciding against it at the last moment. His glove-covered hands hover around you like you’re radioactive matter, carefully watching as you regain your composure. “You good, nerd?” Uses the same vocabulary as the real guy, too. Kind of weird, but I guess we all have our idols.

“Yeah, I’m good. I just didn’t expect you to badmouth him like you two were friends from high school or something,” you joke lightheartedly and the guy blinks at you twice before computing what you said.

“It’s whatever. They’re super fuckin’ easy to read, in any case,” he states with an air of finality and you down the rest of your drink, the dim lighting starting to blur everything around you into a single greenish-orange blob. “What about you? What are your thoughts on the new gen?”

“I can’t make such bold judgments as you, but I do think Dynamight is pretty cool,” you admit, suddenly feeling a little bashful when having the same question turned on you. The truth was, you followed the lives of the heroes a bit too closely than the average person should. It fascinated you so much that you were majoring in Quirk-specific journalism, studying the social and economic consequences of being a Pro. “I think his public persona is an interesting case when compared to other heroes.”

“How so?”

“Well, I’d like to imagine that he’s not always the loud, arrogant, obnoxious piece of shit that the press shows,” you start and narrow your eyes in confusion when he flinches at your description. You continue anyway but choose your words a little more carefully. Probably isn’t good to upset the guy who might have fashioned functioning gauntlets, if the costume truly is accurate. “There’s a side to him that I think the public doesn’t know about and doesn’t care to know about, since it’s easier to understand him as a loudmouth with no sense of manners. I just wonder who that guy is under all the yelling and testosterone.” His silence is deafening and you worry that you somehow offended him, but his tone is so gentle that your assumption becomes an impossibility.

“Seems like you’ve given this guy a great deal of thought,” he says lowly, voice barely audible over the sound of the blaring house music.

“Well, he is my favorite,” you add quietly, not expecting him to catch what you said. He does, though, and that mischievous smirk returns to his face. Somehow, you two had inched closer together over the course of your conversation, and you were now close enough to smell his cologne. It was something deep and smoky, with a surprise note of sweetness, like caramel. “I’ve been following his hero career since I was in high school.”

“I didn’t take you for a superfan, but I do appreciate your support,” he chuckles and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You seriously haven’t figured it out?”

“Figured what out?”

“That I’m Dynamight, stupid. This is my actual costume and those are my actual friends. Hell, I'm paying for this whole shitty party,” he says incredulously, genuinely shocked that you didn’t come to that conclusion already. Your skepticism, however, rears its head and you burst out into rude laughter.

Dynamight? Yeah, right. More like Dyna-maybe.

“Excuse me?” He stares at you like you’d grown three heads and your heart drops into your stomach. You must have said your thoughts out loud. Fuck! “You’ve got some nerve, testing the patience of a Pro.” His words, under any other circumstances, would have cut down your pride like a knife. However, his eyes were conveying a different story, one of lust and want and holyshityouwantedhim. “Got anything to say, sweetheart? Or are you gonna just keep gaping like a fuckin’ goldfish?” You abruptly snap your jaw back into place, leaning your head into your hand and smiling in triumph when his gaze again uncontrollably rakes over your body.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“See what, gorgeous?”

“That a Pro kisses better than a normal person,” you murmur and his pupils blow to the size of pool balls. He wastes no time, gently but firmly grabbing your chin with two fingers and pulling your mouth onto his. His lips are ridiculously soft and you muster up the courage to bite him softly, heartbeat racing when he groans into your mouth. One arm drapes itself over the back of the couch, the other pulling you as close to him as humanly possible without practically sitting on him. Your hand combs through his hair and the other keeps him on you by the back of his neck.

Right when you run out of breath, he pulls away and swears colorfully at the phone buzzing in his pocket, answering it with one hand while his forearm is still pressed against your lower back. You absentmindedly trace his jawline with a finger while he curses out the person on the other line, eventually chucking the device over his shoulder like it was the last thing he was thinking about. “You need to go somewhere, sweetheart?” He lightly pinches your side at your mockery and you jump, flicking his forehead in defiance.

“Nah, that was a job for Dynamight. Right now, I guess I’m still fuckin' Dyna-maybe,” he rasps and leans back in to kiss you again but you push his face away, giving him as sober of a look as possible. “What?”

“If you need to go kick ass, then go kick ass. I’m just some random makeout at a party,” you remind him, painfully aware of the sting if he was to leave you alone. His expression contorts into indignancy again but you still try to convince him to alleviate whatever situation he was called in for. “Your job is more important than a hookup.”

“I don’t do hookups, dumbass. I’m interested in you,” he states plainly and your face is set on fire. The Pro, who you just insulted to his face, was interested in you? “So, let’s get out of here, yeah? I can make you dinner that isn’t shitty pizza.” His mouth breaks into a devilish grin and you’re already grabbing onto his hand like your life depended on it.

“If someone messes with us?”

“It’s a good thing I’m already in costume.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha x y/n #bnha x you #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n

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wonysugar · 1 year

Note

Sana spotting reader in the crowd at the concert and keeps looking at her the whole show, then tells her manger to bring you backstage after the show and she ends up taking you back to her hotel room…smut of course. Thank you!

tags : belittling, humiliation, spanking (or just plain degradation if you’d like), sana has a strap, smut with plot!

content warning : smut! that’s..it lol

pairing : fan!femreader x sana minatozaki

word count : 2k

a/n : thank you so much for requesting, sana’s my bias so i had a super fun time writing this!!<3 also I’M SO SORRY FOR KEEPING YOU WAITING!! i hope the wait is worth it!

there you were, standing in line for the twice tour concert happening in your city, you would’ve came with a friend, but nobody in your circle really likes kpop the way you do.

plus, you didn’t want anyone you knew to see you fangirling over a girl group who doesn’t even know you exist which would get significantly worse when sana comes on stage.

you brought your twice lightstick and a silly little sign that reads “sana please kiss me i need you badly”, this was a one in a lifetime opportunity, you needed to confess your undying love to your soulmate if given the chance! listening to your own thoughts playback in your mind, you giggled at your delusions. god, you’re hilarious.

before you knew it, the line progressed and you were finally sat for the concert. fanchants ready to be yelled out, lightstick set up. oh you were so ready. plus, you got front seats too, so you were even more hyped.

then, they appeared. suddenly, everybody just lost their shit you included and started screaming for their bias. song after song, dancebreak after dancebreak, the crowd was going absolutely wild. while yes, you were enjoying the performance as a whole, but you just couldn’t stop staring at your favorite member. and surprisingly, she stared back most of the time! smiling at you and winking as she sang, just basically fueling all of your delusions. the rush of it all gave you the confidence you needed to do this.

you waited until she looked at you again and just held the sign up, you didn’t give a single fuck about the people behind you, they didn’t matter! you needed to make sana remember you by something, even if it was lowkey embarrassing!

she took a few moments to read it, squinting her eyes, then.. giggled??

oh she wants you badly!! is what you told yourself because you and facing reality are not a good match! she took the sign from your hands and showed it off to the other members, earning a bunch of laughs and giggles from them, followed by some talking.

oh nevermind, she’s most likely making fun of you.

embarrassed, you started looking around, pretending you didn’t know what was going on as if everyone didn’t just see that she grabbed the sign from you. but then, you spotted her writing something on it with a sharpie. intrigued, you watched her as she finished up writing. she jogged over to you and handed you back your sign as she winked at you. you smiled nervously and muttered a confused ‘thank you’ before your eyes darted at the writing.

your eyes widened, both in confusion and very pleasant surprise.

‘stay here after the concert, a manager will come get you ;)’

oh my god.

the final song finished and everybody cheered loudly for the last time. you had a great time, but you just couldn’t stop looking at your sign, reminiscing about what she was planning. was she trying to get you arrested? why would she wink though.. maybe she winked just so you would stay and THEN she’d get you arrested???

your mind ran wild as you quickly reached for the exit of the arena, trying not to get caught by whoever was out to get you, but before you could, you felt a hand on your shoulder.

fuck.

“excuse me, ms. minatozaki is requesting to see you, i believe.”

trying not to hide your defeat and fear of what could possibly happen, you nodded. “yup. lead the way!” you said, over enthusiastically. he motioned for you to follow him and he took you backstage, where, surprisingly, no other members were present. just her. you unintentionally gulp as the staff leaves you two alone.

god she’s literally staring you down. you would’ve been excited about being so close to her in person but the situation right now was kinda preventing that, you fidgeted with your hands. right as she was about to speak,

“are you gonna get me arrested? look, it was a silly little joke i had no intentions of making you uncomfortable and i’m honestly really sorry if i di-“

“relax, baby” she interrupted, “i found it endearing. i mean, it’s not like you’re a creepy old man, are you?” she slightly tilted her head as she asked the question.

you hesitantly shook your head. wait, did she just call you baby?? you felt that you could just die right then and there.

“so, why are you panicking? if i was trying to get you arrested, i wouldn’t be smiling and winking at you all show, would i now, cutie?”

your jaw slightly dropped at the amount of pet names that she just kept casually throwing around. does she not know what that can do to someone who’s like. infatuated with her??

“no, you wouldn’t, i don’t think.” you stuttered out. she giggled at you, eyeing you down, her gaze ending up on every single part of your body.

“are you free tonight?” she asked you, an innocent smile plastered on her face.

quite frankly, you were originally planning to go home right after concert, lay on your bed and watch tiktoks for like 5 hours straight but… let’s just say making out with the sana minatozaki on her hotel room’s bed was significantly better than that.

she unfortunately pulled away from you and looked into your eyes as she slightly panted, “what are you into, baby?” she asked you.

not knowing what to respond, you looked around nervously, still not over the fact that you’re about to fuck an idol?? your favorite one, at that. was this even allowed???

“uhm.” you finally responded, “i don’t know.. girls?” you awkwardly chuckled.

fuck, maybe being funny wasn’t the best approach, she looked like she was genuinely asking. you could tell from the drop of her expression that she was getting impatient, she subtly sighed, almost pulling away from you.

which…. you always found it kind of sexy when she got frustrated at her other members, or something of the sorts.

biting back a shy smile, you kept staring at her. then, as if something in her mind clicked, something in her eyes sparkled and she smirked.

“oh… i see where this is going.” she playfully smirked, getting closer to you again as if she could feel your face growing hotter by the second. “you’re into people treating you like garbage, aren’t you?”

you hesitated, but you ended up silently nodding. was she psychic??

“oh how cute. so if i were to fuck you roughly as i called you names, you’d like that, hm?”

you froze, then turned your head to look at anything that wasn’t her face. god that sounded so hot.

“answer, you bitch.” she grabbed you by the jaw and made you look at her, her eyes piercing through you. you swore that you could’ve came right then and there, but you obviously had and wanted to keep this going.

“y-yes sana, i’d like that. alot.” you squirmed under her, her eyes still not leaving yours. she scoffed.

“i knew you were a complete slut as soon as i saw you.” she kissed your neck, earning a relieved sigh from you as she unbuttons your shirt. “also,” she added,

“it’s ms. sana, got it?”

next thing you knew, she was violently dicking you down from behind with her strap. wait, why did she even bring it along with her on tour? whatever, that didn’t even matter right now, what mattered was that your twice bias was literally inside you and that you felt like you could squirt just from that. an exaggeration, but she was just that good at fucking you.

“fuckfuckfuck sana right there..” you moaned out, throwing your head down on the pillow before you stammered nervously, “i-i mean, ms. sana!”

in response, “aren’t you a cute thing. this is the fourth time you’ve made that mistake. does it feel that good?” you heard her giggle. okay, she didn’t sound mad, but you still needed to be careful next ti-

before you could even finish that thought, though, you felt her hand smack one of your cheeks with full force, making you flinch and unintentionally whimper at the impact. fuck, that hurt.

“apologize.” she coldly ordered you, her pace getting faster by the second, causing you to lose your breath. recollecting your thoughts, you let out a nervous “i’m s-sorry ms. sana fuck i’m sorry..”

“god.. look at you. ass up for a girl you barely even fucking know.” she hummed, clearly amused by all of this, amused by how easily you gave in. she gently scratched and pet your head as she would a dog, still roughly pounding you from the back. “are you stupid or just a horny bitch?” she mockingly giggles.

“that’s just what you are, isn’t it? a little bitch in heat. hm?”

if her purpose was to fill you with shame, then it was very much working. you felt humiliated. when you really thought about it like that, you are literally letting a stranger fuck you. not only that, but you went to her hotel room. maybe she was right, maybe you are just a whore.

“come on baby, say it. admit how much of a slut you are.” she pulled on your hair, forcing you to hold yourself up. you whimpered and moaned loudly at the sensations, trying your hardest to form a correct sentence, “yes ms. sana i’m a s-slut! fuckfuck i’m a slut for you p-pleaseee fuck me harder..”

your dignity and self-respect now long gone, your only priority was cumming. she probably caught onto that quickly, though, since she immediately started changing her pace, going at a much slower speed, much to your despair. you whined. “such a good bitch for mommy. are you getting close?” she asked.

mommy?? oh this woman wanted you dead. her words and the noises coming out of her contributing in making it harder for you to keep your composure. god you were a mess, being undone like this, being used like this, being at someone’s mercy, sana’s mercy. it turned you on so much.

moaning out consecutive mhms in response to sana’s question, she hummed, grabbing your waist. then, unexpectedly, she rams into you, her strap fucking in and out of you, covered in your slick. “then we’ll cum together, okay?” she orders, panting. you eagerly nod, head pressed into the pillow.

you feel your orgasm building up, your noises getting higher and louder. she quickly started shamelessly moaning louder too, good girls and just like thats escaping her mouth.

it didn’t take long before her breathing stopped for a moment, pulling on your hair with such a force. she moaned out your name, and that’s when your own mind blanked. that feeling in your lower stomach was now replaced with complete euphoria, and it was amplified by the fact that you knew it was caused by sana. you didn’t care about how loud you were being, you didn’t care about the people next door, you wanted them to know who was making you feel this good.

as you both came down from your high, you felt her pull out. it took you some time to actually sit up, but your legs weren’t exactly in the best state right now.

“do you do this to every fan you meet?” you ask her, laying down on your side, sounding kinda muffled due to your head still being in the pillow.

“hm, no. i’ve never done this before. i guess it was something about you.” she said, smiling as she was tying her hair and then eventually taking the strap off of her, setting it down on the nightstand.

then, you remembered your so called delusions. maybe they weren’t entirely delusions after all!

you took your bag, all dressed up and ready to leave the hotel room, she on the other hand, stayed naked, because that’s apparently how she sleeps. you say your goodbyes very obviously eyeing her bare body and head to leave, but she stops you.

“here’s my number, i’ll text you and eventually let you know when we come back here.” she winks at you, then sends you on your way.

well! getting dicked down by sana minatozaki wasn’t exactly on your bucket list this year, but it was certainly very welcomed, considering you went back home giggling to yourself and did your own thing when you arrived home, still thinking about all of it..

from now on, you could never allow yourself to miss the upcoming tours.

#sana minatozaki #twice smut #kpop smut #kpop gg #female reader #smut #sana x reader #sana x female reader #sana minatozaki x female reader #twice sana #twice

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empressdede · 2 months

Text

TikToks - Jimmy Uso

Based on this tiktok. A very short oneshot so I hope you enjoy

Paring :Jimmy x Y/N

Word count: 544 ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Wait babe, I wanna do it like the girl did in the video.” You instructed, grabbing his hand and pulling him off the bed to walk to the living room with you.

Jon decided to cut off his game because you were complaining that he wasn’t spending enough time with you on his day off before he was off again.

Jonathan obliged on giving you his attention but was quickly regretting it because now all you wanted to do was make tiktok videos.

“Didn’t you say you’re not flexible? How you gon be able to copy the lady if you can’t move yo legs like that” He stated in confusion but you were determined.

“I know but I started doing yoga a month ago remember? I wanna see if I can do it.”

“If you bust yo ass, imma laugh at you I swear.” Jon warned causing you to smack your teeth.

“Boy just lay down and wait for me to do it.” You had searched for the perfect place to set up the camera in the living room before walking back to where Jon was.

The video counting down before it started, but you thought it had started soo you started to stretch your legs out and continued. You lost balance and fell forward but your hands caught your fall and you continued to go further into the split until you felt your core touch his lips.

Two different reactions came from the two of you. His more vocal than yours when he started to laugh in disbelief. “That’s crazy, get off right now.” He demanded through his laughs.

He kept repeating himself which caused you to laugh and walk from him when he felt himself start to chub up and immediately moved to cup his front and fold his legs into his stomach. “Yooooo, I ain’t gon lie to y’all-“

You giggled at his reaction as you watched him turn away from the camera to get up. “Babe I swear, I didn’t even know I could do that.”

“That’s craaazzzyyy” He responded, his mind lowkey forgetting they had did this for a tiktok. You don’t wear panties around the house and not only did you put his pussy in his face but he got a whiff of your scent. He was on demon time now.

“No, babe you gotta go back, I gotta do that one more time.”

He shook his head as he finally stood up and faced you. “Imma be honest, I can’t go back. If you do that one more time, clothes is coming off and I’m just being honest.”

“That’s fine baby I just wanna- oh wow”

And that’s when you seen it. And remembered this was absolutely still being recorded.

You jumped off the couch to stand in front of him but Your laughs made you weak to your knees. Jon covered himself and the both of you just laughed at his predicament of getting a boner from just that one thing.

When the cameras finally stopped recording, you still laughing looked at Jon with an amused look on your face. “You good now babe?”

“Nah, come do that shit again with no clothes on. Imma get you right baby.”

So much for those tiktok videos huh?

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You know whats so crazy is this was not the tiktok I originally planned to write for Jimmy but this one felt like it was more him.

How we feeling? Lol Romans is up next, Ive had a lot of fun writing these.

Tagging the lovelies: @whatdoeseverybodywant @wrestlingprincess80 @blacst4r @alyyaanna @tbmotw @nbanenefrmdao @christinabae

#empressdede #empresswriting #wwe #black reader #jimmy uso #Tiktokjimmyuso #jimmy uso x black reader #jimmy uso x reader #jimmy uso x oc

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jemiswumbo · 3 months

Text

you be tails, i’ll be sonic (18+)

twitch streamer!luke x reader

part one

authors note: hi hi i’m back with a highly requested part two!! i loved making the graphics for this chapter lol. hope you all enjoy!!!

title is from you be tails, i’ll be sonic by a day to remember. lyrics have no relation to the fanfic, but it IS an absolute banger. anthem. bop. classic.

tags/warnings: smau elements. nsfw elements - MDNI. not proofread. use of y/n.

Over on the desk, Luke’s phone would not stop vibrating.

For the last hour, you’d managed to ignore it, as you were too preoccupied by Luke fucking you with no remorse. Now, as you lay spent and naked and cuddled together until the blankets, the sound was driving you insane.

“Luke,” you whined, burying your face into the crook of his neck (which was now littered with red and purple hickies). “Please shut your phone off.”

Luke chuckled beside you, running a hand through your messy hair. “I will in a minute, I’ll probably have to tweet an explanation for why I shut off my stream so suddenly.”

“Okay. That’s fair,” You decided. Luke leaned over and stretched out his arm, grasping the phone from his desk. He snuggled back in beside you and you watched as he scrolled through a flood of notifications.

The first app he opened was discord, where his gamer friends were chatting in their private server about Luke’s random disconnection.

“Thank god one of my friends was able to figure it out.” Luke murmured, causing you to giggling. Annabeth was, by far, the smartest of the group. Most days it seemed like she was the only one with a working brain cell. You and her got along great, as you worked to keep the boys and thalia in check. They loved to cause a scene or do some dumb shit no matter where they went. It was tons of fun and always entertaining, but also nerve wracking. If they ever caused too big of a scene, someone could takes pictures or videos, upload them… as some of the most popular twitch streamers, everyone would be recognized instantly.

Except for you.

You (by choice) remained out of the spotlight. You loved Luke dearly and desperately wanted to make your relationship public, but the thought of having hundreds of thousands of eyes watching you, loving you, hating you…. it was scary. And you weren’t delusional — you knew, one day, you’d have to step into the public eye. You just didn’t know when you’d be ready.

Luke wrapped up the Discord conversation with his friends and switched over to Twitter, where tons of his fans were talking about his disconnection. You took a deep breath to clear your head, and read some of the tweets on his phone screen.

“Your fans are so goofy,” You said, pressing a kiss to Luke’s cheek. “So… what’s the move? Wifi crashed? Rage quit? Oh my god, what if you confirm Boner Theory?!”

“Jesus, never in my life,” Luke groaned. “I’ll just say it was my wifi. Unless….”

Your eyes widened. You sat up, not caring that the bed sheet fell to your lap, exposing your naked chest. Your heartbeat was definitely exceeding a normal BPM reading. “Baby.. I love you. So much. And I would love to be public. I would love to be your date to the Streamer Awards, and support you at Twitch Con, and cheer you on during your Fortnite tournaments…. But I just don’t think I’m ready.”

“Hey, hey,” Luke sat up, too, enveloping you in his strong, muscled arms and squeezing you tight. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I just thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask. But you know I respect your choices and would never pressure you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I know,” You sighed, relishing in the warm embrace, and the feeling of your bare chest pressed against his. You swore he could feel how fast your heart was racing. “But also, you can’t say we’re dating now. Boner Theory is a thing, babe. Surely, at least one of your fans would connect the dots.”

Luke laughed and pulled away from the hug, taking a moment to press and long and loving kiss to your head. He smiled at you, his brown eyes sparkling. “You’re so perfect, you know that?”

You shoved him away. “Okay. Tweet something, so we can go watch a movie and smoke and have more sex.”

“Okay, okay,” Luke said, kissing you again and sending some half assed tweet out to his fans. He shut off his phone and grinned. “Let’s order take out, too.”

*************************************

A few weeks later…

*************************************

It was, officially, your one year anniversary of dating Luke Castellan.

You were beyond happy, and over the moon excited for the special dinner you had both planned for the evening. Luke had surprised you with reservations to your all time favourite restaurant. You were going to surprise him afterwards with a brand new lingerie set. It was going to be perfect.

The only, only thing that was making you nervous was the fact that you’d decided today was the day.

You were going to tell Luke, tonight at dinner, that you were ready to go public.

After the whole Boner Theory ordeal, you’d spent countless nights and hours debating your previous decision to keep your relationship private. You knew it was going to have to happen eventually. You also didn’t mind his fan girls; but deep down you got giddy over the thought of showing them all he was taken and he was yours. It would feel so good. And you wouldn’t have to stay out of photos when you hung out with Luke, Percy, Annabeth, Grover, and Thalia. You could go to events with him. You could come up behind him while he was streaming to drop off a coffee or food or kiss his cheek without worrying about it.

There were cons, of course. Most of the debating revolved around the cons, and whether or not it was truly worth it. After all these weeks, you decided it was worth it. You were one hundred percent ready.

You spent the few hours before dinner having an everything shower, doing your best makeup, curling your hair, and choosing an outfit. It helped keep your mind occupied and the stress at bay.

Around 7pm, Luke texted saying he was outside of your apartment. You grabbed your purse and slid on a pair of black heels before racing out the door.

Luke’s car was not hard to miss. He had chosen to pick you up in his bright red McLaren, since it was a super special occasion. He typically never took it out of his garage as it was insanely expensive and just downright beautiful.

You gave him a little twirl on your walk over to the passenger seat, not missing the impressed grin he flashed at your from inside. You hopped in the car and didn’t hesitate to lean over and place a kiss to his lips. He presented you a huge bouquet of fresh, dark red roses. You gasped and clutched the bouquet in your arms, kissing his cheek and expressing your gratitude.

“You look stunning,” Luke said, eyeing you up, clearly in awe. You laughed and blushed, enjoying the praise. “Seriously. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” You retorted, besrt racing at the sight of his gorgeous features. He was dressed up, wearing a sharp grey suit with a dark with a black button up beneath. He was so good looking, you simply swooned just from his smile alone. The smell of the roses made you feel like you were on cloud nine.

The drive to the restaurant was quick. The waiter showed you to your table, which was secluded in the back corner and shrouded by a wall and some pretty plants. The lights were dimmed and candles were lit. Luke ordered an expensive bottle of wine, which you both shared and sipped on while waiting for the food to arrive. It was now or never.

“Okay, baby,” You started, dabbing your napkin to your lips. “I’ve thought long and hard about this. But I think I’m ready to go public with our relationship.”

Across the table, Luke’s eyes widened and he spluttered, mid sip. He coughed into the back of his hand and you bit your lip nervously, waiting for his response.

“Are you sure, angel?” Luke asked, reaching out to take your hand in his. He rubbed his thumb against your skin in comfort. “Once we go public we can never go back. My fans will know who you are.”

“I know,” You said, firmly. You offered him a warm smile. “Like I said, I’ve been thinking about this for a while. And I’m ready. Definitely, totally ready.”

“Well in that case, I’ve had an Instagram post drafted for like, the last three months. I can finally post it!” Luke said, picking his phone up from the corner of the table.

You smacked his arm in playful angry, failing to suppress the smile making it way to your cheeks. “You are so dumb. They better be cute pictures, at least.”

“They are, I swear!” Luke laughed. “Cute caption, too. You promise you’re okay with me posting it?”

“Yes, Luke. I promise.” You took his hand again, letting out a shaky breath and trying to muster some courage. “I know it’s only been a year of dating, but I can whole heartedly say you are my best friend in the whole world. I love you. I truly do see us being together forever. So I want to make it public now, on our terms.”

“I love you, too, baby.” Luke said with an attractive grin. You blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear shyly, whilst he set up his Instagram post. After a few silent moments, he flashed you a triumphant thumbs up. “There, it’s posted. I tagged you, too.”

You ignored the buzzing of your own phone, choosing to flip it to silent mode. “Happy Anniversary, my love.”

Luke smiled at you, once again taking your hand in his. With utmost sincerity and his heart of gold, he replied, “Happy Anniversary to you too, angel.”

a/n: thank you all for reading, hope you enjoy!! again this is not proofread. part 3 with the streamer awards??? 👀👀

taglist: @augustiscoquette

#jemiswriting #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #percy jackson #requests are open <3 #thank you all for the positive response to part one it truly means a lot!!!

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star-wrote · 1 month

Text

After Midnight

Characters: Stanford!Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: The club lights make the mysterious stranger at the bar look even more kissable.

Warnings: drinking, cussing, a mean guy at the bar, dancing, making out, a little suggestive but no smut

A/N: just a short lil writing piece based on the song “after midnight” by chappell roan <3 written by someone who has never been to a club or had alcohol LOL.

Word Count: 1.1k ish

(divider from @strangergraphics )

The DJ at the club was spinning some track from the 90’s when you and your friends finally got through the long line. It had been cold outside; with winter break just around the corner, so it wasn’t the most comfortable to wait in your short dress. Luckily, the body heat from the people dancing in the club warmed you right up (and the shot of tequila that you had just drank).

Your friends had gone off onto the dance floor, leaving you standing at the crowded bar, waiting for another drink. There were many people around you, all of them shouting their orders at the poor bartender, except for one man. He seemed out of place standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and his brown hair framing his face. He was wearing a frown, seemingly displeased with the situation in front of him.

You wanted to kiss the frown right off his face. But maybe that was the alcohol talking.

The burst of courage that came with that one shot of tequila made you approach the stranger.

“Hey, are you waiting on a drink too?” You said while standing next to him, pretending to also watch the scene at the bar.

He glanced over at you and raised an eyebrow in what looked like surprise at you talking to him. “Uh, no. I was going to ask but the bartender looks overwhelmed.”

You nodded, smiling slightly at the sympathy he seemed to have that the other club-goers lacked. “Yeah, they’re being pretty rude tonight.”

“I guess finals make everyone desperate for alcohol,” the man says with a chuckle.

The frantic bartender called your name and slammed your drink down at the bar. While you were walking up to get it, another customer quickly looked around and grabbed your drink. When he turned around to snake off into the shadows with it, he was met with you holding a hand out for your drink.

“Thanks for grabbing that for me!” You quip while reaching to grab the glass in the thief’s hand.

He pulls the drink away. “No, this shit’s mine.”

“I’m pretty sure we don’t share the same name, Brian.” You point to where his name tag printed his name clearly across his chest.

“Look princess, I’ve had a long day at work and I just wanted a free drink, okay?” He rolls his eyes at you.

Suddenly, the cute boy from earlier walks up behind you and nods in greeting at Brian. You couldn’t help but notice how much taller he was in comparison.

“You want a drink? Wait in line like everyone else, man.”

Brian stepped closer to you, close enough to where you could feel his breath on your face. “Make me.”

Out of instinct, you pushed up on the full glass, spilling the drink all over him.

The brown haired boy quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you away as Brian sputtered. He saw you grinning in achievement at the man and laughed. “C’mon, let’s not start a bar fight.”

He led you to a table near the corner of the room, where the music was quieter and the lights were dimmer.

“Oh my god, did you see that!” You giggle as he lets go of your hand and sits down in the booth.

His smile didn’t leave his face as he says, “I’m just surprised that you dumped your own drink on the guy.”

“Well, he was being a dick,” you shrug.

He nods while smiling and looks down at the table. A beat of silence passes before he looks back up at you.

“You have a pretty name, you know. I heard the bartender say it.”

It was your turn to smile and look down at the table where your finger was picking at the chipped paint. “Well that’s not fair!”

He tilted his head in questioning, his smile still ever present on his face.

You look back at him and continue. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours! Even after we’ve gone on an adventure together.”

He chuckles. “I’m Sam. And I’m sure I could take you on way better adventures.”

“Is that an offer to go on a date, Sam?” You wink at him, the low pink lighting making you feel flirty.

The beat changes into one that you recognize as your favorite upbeat song, and you perk up.

Sam must’ve noticed because he says, “Right now, it’s an offer to go to the dance floor with me.”

You and him stand up, grab each other’s hands, and worm your way through the sea of people on the dance floor. He stops in the middle, right under the disco ball, and spins you. You two spend the rest of the song dancing together.

The song ended and a slower song filled the void. Sam’s warm hands immediately find your hips as you start to sway together. It must’ve been after midnight, because you started to feel like you were falling in love. But by the look on Sam’s face, he must’ve been feeling it too.

“Can I kiss you?” You suddenly blurted out.

Instead of responding, he leaned down and met your lips with his own in a sweet kiss. The DJ switched to a more sensual song as the slow dance faded out. Sam deepened the kiss as you sighed into his mouth.

You pulled back and grabbed his hand, leading him back to your cozy corner. You guided him to sit on the booth and you straddled his lap. He only had a look of surprise on his face for a second before he brought his hands up to your cheeks and pulled you into a kiss. You bit on his bottom lip and he let out a grunt and a breath of air out his nose. You smiled into the kiss at his reaction.

He pulled your head away to allow you both to breathe. You leaned your foreheads against each other. He saw that your dress had ridden up, so he pulled it back down to your upper thighs for you. You breathe out a “thanks.”

“I’m not sure we can continue in public without getting arrested,” he says. He gets a shy look on his face. “You wanna go back to my place?”

You stop and think for the first time that night. You had been too good this semester. You got good grades on all of your finals, and the cutest boy alive was asking you to go back to his place. You could afford to be not so good for one night.

You smile and press a quick kiss to his lips before getting back on your feet. “Sure.”

Everything good happens after midnight.

#sam winchester #sam winchester supernatural #sam winchester spn #spn #supernatural #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester/reader #sam winchester fanfiction

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danikamariewrites · 10 months

Text

Just Us

Mob!Azriel x reader AU

A/n: part 2 is here! Although I don’t really like calling it a part two because I don’t see it as a series, I don’t have a better name for it so we’re just going to call it a series. I just see this as a universe with ongoing stories/one-shit fics and headcanons lol. Thank you for all the love this is getting though! I’m so happy so many of you want to be tagged for these posts ❤️

Warnings: none

Series Masterlist

Digging out another option from Mor’s closet I start to panic. Azriel will be here in two hours to pick me up and it feels like every part of me is sweating from nerves. I wipe my hands on my leggings so I can grip the velvet hanger better. I turn to face the chaos Mor and Feyre have created.

Shoes from each of their closests and mine, eyeshadow pallets, and even more clothing options cover every inch of Mor’s bedroom. It’s all so…intimidating. I’ve been on dates before, but none of those guys were ever worth half the effort I’m putting in for Azriel. Which is probably why I’m freaking out more than normal.

As I lay out the dress on Mor’s bed my ears finally pick up what Feyre is joyously rambling about. “And then Gavin just backed off. I have never him seen him humbled so fast Mor, oh my gods. It was hilarious.” A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips. It was refreshing to see Gavin put in his place. Especially by someone like Azriel.

I circle the bed eyeing my endless options for dresses. My attention lands on one of Feyre’s black velvet cocktail dresses. It has a corset type bodice with tank top straps and a pleated skirt. It’s perfect.

Picking it up I break out into a wide grin. Feyre and Mor notice looking at me like proud parents. “What?” I ask with a slight giggle. “It’s just…you’re going on a real date. With a real man. I just feel so proud.” Mor squeaked out, wiping away fake tears.

I shake my head letting out a shaky sigh. “I like this one, can I wear it, Fey?” “Of course babe. This is going to look amazing on you.” She starts gathering the other dresses as Mor begins to look for shoes to match. Sitting me on the bed Feyre grabs my face and purses her lips in thought. “How do you feel about a very light Smokey eye?”

A knock on the front door - approximately two hours later - breaks my focus from applying mascara. “I’ll get it!” Mor yells from the living room. Just a few more strokes and I’ll be done. My hand shakes from anticipation. Maybe if I take longer he’ll get impatient and I won’t have to go.

No, don’t think like that. I deserve a nice date. I shake my body and check myself over in the mirror one last time. I look hot thanks to my best friends' combined effort. “Ok,” I whisper.

Heading out to the living room I can hear Mor and Feyre talking with him. Gods, I hope they’re avoiding embarrassing topics. When I round the corner my steps stutter. It’s not Azriel in the living room. It’s one of the males he brought into the gallery. The larger one of the two who winked at me. “There she is!” Mor said in a sing-song voice.

I walk forward and the male reaches his hand out for me to shake. “Hi y/n, I’m Cassian.” I take his hand, his calluses are rough against my palm as I shake his hand. “Hi, I remember you from the gallery. If you don’t mind me asking, where’s Azriel?” I hate how small my voice sounds as I ask but I don’t want Cassian to feel like I’m not trusting him or his boss. Cassian smiles at me. “He’s already at the restaurant, he just sent me to pick you up.” I nod and say goodbye to Mor and Feyre before they push me out the door.

Cassian opens the car door for me, taking my hand to help me up into the high SUV. I thank him before he shuts the door. The ride over to the restaurant was fast and quiet. I think Cassian could tell I’m nervous. When we pull up I notice the small parking lot was oddly empty.

I audibly swallow, staring out the window at the front door. Cassian opens the door smiling at me with a boyish grin. “Cassian, can I ask you something?” “Sure thing.” Concern flashes across his face. The scar above his brow crinkling in. “I just…is he…” I can’t find the right words to ask my question correctly. Cassian seemed to pull himself up straighter. “I know you know his job but he’s not cruel. Azriel can be guarded at first but I think you’ll get through to him easily. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” He smiles at me again, squeezing my hand in encouragement. I sigh, tilting my head to the side. “You’ve only seen me twice.” “That’s all I need. I know my brother.”

I nod and take Cassian’s hand again to step out of the car and he ushers me into the restaurant. As I look around I notice the dining room is empty. Most of the tables look like they have been cleared out so a special table could be set up in the middle of the room. Azriel is speaking to the chef and a male I assume is the owner.

Cassian clears his throat behind me to get Azriel’s attention. When he turns it feels like all the air has been sucked from my lungs. My heart flutters at the bright smile he gives me. His hazel eyes light up as they look me up and down. I finally start breathing again when he stops in front of me. The scent of his cologne is intoxicating. The warm vanilla tones mixed with a light spice fills my nostrils. It’s comforting and makes me want to curl up next to him to breathe it in more.

Azriel takes my hands in his large scarred ones, bringing them up to his lips to press light kisses across my knuckles. I didn't notice the scars marring them before. They were beautiful. Like a torrent, restless ocean. “You look absolutely stunning this evening.” A blush heats my cheeks, a small smile appearing on my lips from his compliment. “Thank you. You look handsome as well.”

He drops my hands holding his arm out for me to take like he did in the gallery two days ago. Azriel continues being the gentleman that he is and pulls my seat out for me, pushing me back in, and listens to my answers when he asks me about myself. When it was my turn I asked about his childhood, which seemed to be quite normal given the amount of money his family has. I also couldn’t help but ask why the restaurant was empty.

Azriel sheepishly smiled, looking at his entree for a moment before admitting he bought the place out for the night. “I prefer first dates to be more…intimate, if you will.” I let out a hum, “So you do this for all the girls.” I joke. Azriel looked panicked for a moment. “No,” he got out quickly, “This is, you’re the first one I’ve ever done this for actually.” His voice getting quieter at the end.

My heart leaps at the confession. No one has ever put that much thought into a date with me before and I told him how much I appreciate this.

“So, how did you get into art?” He asks over dessert. A delicoius crème brûlée with a perfect golden brown sugar coating. I break it with my spoon as I think about how to phrase my answer. "I've always loved art no matter what form it comes in. Paintings, sculpture, digital, all that stuff. I like that people appreciate something pretty or one of a kind, so if I can help them get their hands on it, it makes me happy."

I look at him, shoveling the sweet creamy treat in my mouth. Azriel smiles at me adoringly. Those hazel eyes twinkling with what I'd like to think is love. "That's amazing. Besides the two I got, how many paintings have you sold?" I let out a short, cold laugh thinking about how pissed Gavin was that I made a sale. "You were my first customer. and probably my last. As I know you heard my boss say I'm just an intern. I really should've called him but it was the end of the day so what was the harm."

Azriel shook his head. A dissaproving look takes over his beautiful face as he remembers the scene he walked in on yesterday. "I was ready to punch him." Azriel admits. "He had no right to talk to you like that. But I must say, you were a natural my dear. I probably wouldn't have bought the paintings wihtout your knowledge on them."

"Thank you." I say surprised that soemone didn't find my knowledge about art annoying.

When we finished the chef came out to say goodbye along with the owner. Azriel offered me his arm again but I took a chance twinning my fingers through his. We glance down at our joined hands. I smile lightly at the comfort I feel when I hold it. Azriel looks shocked that I would even go near his hands. "Is this ok?" I ask softly. He seems at a loss for words just nodding and staring at me like a boy realizing he has a crush for the first time.

The whole car ride back to my apartment Azriel doesn't let go of my hand. I rest them on my lap and gently rub my thumb back and forth in a comforting motion. When Cassian comes to stop in front of my apartment my heart sinks. I don't want Azriel to go. I'm not ready for tonight to be over.

"I got it Cass." Azriel says before Cassian can unbuckle. He leads me up the short steps, stopping on the landing. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Feyre and Mor crouched down on the couch. Their eyes just peeking over the window sill. Ignoring them I turn my attention back to Azriel who hasn’t taken his eyes off me since we left the restaurant.

He slips his other hand in mine pulling me slightly closer to him. “I had a wonderful time with you. And I really want to see you again.” Without hesitation I say yes, “I’d love to.” Azriel’s smile seemed to get wider. I must say, he’s not at all what I thought he’d be like. Not knowing how to say goodbye we stumble over our words for a moment until Azriel’s expression became serious. His face mere inches from mine now. “Can I kiss you, y/n.” Something about my name on his lips just seemed so right. “Yes,” I whisper.

Azriel’s lips are like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. The kiss is soft yet passionate and full of a desire I don’t think either of us would be able to sate. Pulling away for air I feel Azriel’s hands slip down my neck and pull away from my body. I hadn’t realized he was holding me. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” I nod, speechless. The air once again sucked from my lungs.

I slowly open the front door giving him a small wave before shutting it. Leaning against the wood I listen for his graceful retreating footsteps, the car door, and the engine as Cassian takes off down the street.

My heart won’t stop pounding. I rest a hand over my chest, a stupid smile on my lips as I’m off in my own fantasy world.

tags (accounts I couldn’t tag in bold): @amara-moonlight @harrystylesfan2686 @kalulakunundrum @thinkingofmatthewfairchild @just-a-social-casualty-1 @insecuritieeseatmealive @teenageeggscissorslawyer @theladystardust @thehighladywrites @callmeblaire @luell1q @meshellexplosionmurder @verena9003 @starsinyoureyes @mich0731 @yourfutur3lov3r @samanthalynn13 @enchantedatheart

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #azriel au #acotar azriel #azriel

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ppushable · 2 months

Text

two ibuprofen

jean kirschtein x gn!reader / oneshot / wc: 7.3k

part 1 of rose tinted hours

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Sunday morning. What's the best way to spend a Sunday morning?

Craned over the plaguefest of the guy I'm dating-not-dating, trying to shove two ibuprofen down his throat?

(It works the second time.)

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ao3 tags:

ok here we go / Alternate Universe - College/University / Sickfic / Sick Character / Fluff / Kissing / Alternate Universe - Modern Setting / Texting / Vomiting / Not at the same time / Winter / gender neutral reader / i dont know how to make tea / mentions of sanrio / mentions of bagged milk / slight angst? i guess? if you squint? / reiner texts like a boomer and im sorry / POV First Person / Present Tense

i live in a special part of canada so excuse the bagged milk. (just kidding bagged is better)

reader is gn! if anything seems off please lmk. (do that if the text names are confusing too!)

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Bzzz.

The darkness and warm comfort of sleep cracks as my eyes peel open to the vibration of my phone. My blurry wall is bathed in orange light and the cold draft coming in from the open window carries the swoons and trills of birdsong. Pretty…

Holy shit I have class I’ll be late—

With effort, I blink until the shapes around me become clean and defined. Am I late? Sunlight on the ruffles of my quilt like a Renaissance painting. Coats and bags hanging from the hooks on the back of my bedroom door. Clothes from the night before, still on the ground from when I dropped them there, dead-tired. My phone buzzes again, causing an internal jolt that spurs me to snatch it off the nightstand and expel the charger in one swift movement.

mr. handsome: emergency alert! 🚨 alert! god-level threat!

mr. handsome: One image attachment

Oh, it’s a message from Connie.

Oh, it’s 8:19 AM.

Oh, it’s a Sunday.

The glowing numbers on the screen indicate the next minute and I toss the phone somewhere on the bed before re-curling myself into my nice warm quilt in this nice cool morning. Sorry, Connie, the grocery run to 7-11 for more sushi will have to be done by someone else. This is probably the happiest I’ll be all day, provided I stay sleepy enough not to feel guilty for doing nothing. The world goes black.

Bzzz.

This time, my eyes peel open on their own.

Fine, Connie, you win.

Trying to ignore the bitter taste of morning in my mouth, I grope for my phone and lift it above my head.

sashacado: BAHAHAH GOOD LUCK WITH THAT ONE BALDY

Another message pops up.

mr. handsome (replying to @/sashacado): 🖕

mikachu: you need to get out of there, connie. like rn.

lainah: Run while you still can! LOL! 🤣

Although the last text pains me on a metaphysical scale, I open up the groupchat. It’s getting fishy now: first of all, Connie’s never up this early, least of all on a weekend; secondly, he said ‘god level threat’ (which is apparently the worst level of threat), and third, Mikasa rarely speaks in the groupchat. Sure, she lurks, but she only ever emerges when something big is happening.

Some more people are active now and I have to scroll up to find Connie’s image.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Blurry and off-centre as the picture might be, it clearly depicts the ugliest green-and-white striped couch I ever laid my eyes on (“It’s an antique!” Connie had argued) that belongs to Connie and Jean’s shared dorm in which the latter of the two is curled up in (yet he still scrapes the armrests with the top of his head and toes). Littering the stained carpet around him — they prefer eating on the couch than on an actual table, so spills are inevitable — are wads of crumpled-up tissues. To really top it off is the Cars blanket that Jean won at a festival that’s seemingly in the process of being violently torn from his form, clinging to the armrest closest to the camera and pulling beyond. A message banner pops down from the top of the screen.

jean: i’m fine. and give me my fucking blanket back. i can hear you giggling from your bedroom. connie.

grammar police: connie give his blanket back

lainah: Haha!

grammar police: i swear things like this only happen when I’m gone

Right, Marco usually goes home for the weekends.

ymi: Lmfao that thing prolly gave you a disease in the first place

ymi: Have u even washed it once

mr. handsome: cut the ccrap Ymir we wash it more than you wash ur hair

sashacado: LMAOOO

ymi: At least I have hair

sashacado: AGAHAHH CONNIE

grammar police: you guys

grammar police: missing the point here

mr. handsome (replying to @/ymi): and its sad cuz mine is still better than youres

mr. handsome: like girl tf is up with the shaved sides

mr handsome: jojo siwa looking ass

sashacado: LMAOOOOO CONNIE EAT HER UP

Smiling, I return to the main chat screen.

ymi: Count your fucking days springer

ymi: At least I still have a girl

grammar police (replying to @/mr. handsome): ^yours

mr. handsome: ok nerd

grammar police: I’m taking away your Netflix

mr. handsome: I sincerely apoligize for my words.

grammar police: it’s the effort I guess

grammar police: back to Jean though

jean: i told u im prrfectly fine. just give ne back my blanket i’ll sleep it off

grammar police: do I need to come back to campus for the weekend?

mikachu: im stopping by the store. can grab some medicine

jean: ffs IM FINE GIVE ME MY BLANKET CONNIE OR IM TELLING THEM ABOUT THE GRATER THING

grammar police: Jean you need some medicine at least. I heard there’s a nasty flu going around and you’d be the type of person to catch it

grammar police: did you call your mom? I can call her if you want

jean: IM

jean: FINE

jean (replying to @/grammar police): DO NOT DO THAT

Poor Jean. He doesn’t have anyone to take care of him. Connie’s a mild germaphobe, believe it or not, at least when it comes to sickness (he nearly went crazy during Covid) and is probably keeping a safe distance from his roommate. And it’s not like any of his other friends are willing (or able) to help out, with Marco out of town. He doesn’t have any siblings here; the closest relative he has might be his mother all the way back in Trost. Not even a significant other.

Well. I mean.

There’s me.

But we’re technically not dating. Not yet. We’re still trying to figure things out — hell, I don’t even know if he likes me back.

Well, okay, there was that time we kissed. But it’s just a kiss. And it was an end-of the year party, and everyone was feeling it. And it’s January now and we haven’t done it again so it’s nothing. It’s nothing!

But that doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at my foundations like a tiny, evil beaver.

Wow. So you’re willing to let a guy suffer just because you’re unsure? Now that’s selfish. While you’re sitting here muttering to yourself he’s probably burning with fever and wishing he were dead. Real classy.

Shut the fuck up, beaver. It’s weird to just barge into someone’s house like that. And we don’t know each other that well.

You’ve known each other for a long time. He’s sick. At least take care of him. You don’t need to be his lover or whatever. Just be a good friend, huh?

I guess…

And you know Connie, too, don’t you? You’ll be doing him a big favour by getting this plaguefest out of his living room. He needs to finish off Breaking Bad so he can look at the memes without being spoiled. You’re not helping dear old Connie out, either.

Fuck, you do have a point.

Besides, everyone knows what happened between you and Jean at the Christmas party. They’re probably waiting on you to—

With great effort I manage to unfocus my eyes to see if anyone mentioned me but Connie and Jean have devolved into another stupid somewhat one-sided argument. So they aren’t saying anything outright. But they’re probably thinking it.

They’re definitely thinking it.

Okay, that’s enough from you.

I swipe off the groupchat to see all of my chats and open up my DM with Jean — right near the top — and start typing.

me: hey. sorry if this is weird, but i wanted to check on you bc ur really sick apparently

No, that won’t do. I purge the message.

me: hey fuckass. did you go out without a coat again? do i need to come and take care of

No, not that, either. Hopefully he isn’t looking at our messages or else he’d see me typing like an idiot. I tap the side of my phone as I think, stringing together ideas and words and different ways he could perceive me based on how I put them together.

I go back to the main groupchat.

me: @/jean @/mr. handsome im coming over. be there in 15

me: also @/mikachu could you pick up some lozenges and cough syrup? ty i’ll pay u back <3

I zone out at the screen until someone starts typing and throw the phone down on the bed again before scanning the ground for something wearable. Goodbye, sweet air and Renaissance scene and birdsong. After assembling myself and brushing my teeth, I check the mirror attached to the back of the shared bathroom door that Sasha decorated with some Sanrio stickers from Amazon. She had a phase.

Matching socks, jeans, campus sweatshirt, T-shirt underneath big enough to splay out underneath like a fan. Hair a mess. Face a mess. Good enough. It’s not like Jean will look much better. It’s not like I care that much about how I look around him.

I pull the door aside and collect my belongings — phone, bag, coat — before whisking through the door, full sail for Connie’s res building. I hit the stairwell running.

Do I know how to take care of sick people? I mean, more or less. It’ll be fine. All you have to do is feed them and make sure they don’t puke all over themselves. Right?

On the way I stop by one of the cafeteria atriums, one of the smaller ones I frequent for its souped-up coffee counter with every additive known to man. I scan the containers on the counter — milk, cream, nutmeg — until I find the packets of honey and shove one into my bag while trying not to look guilty to the few people that dot the room. I more than paid for it just by attending.

Now on the main floor by the parking lot, I struggle to untangle my keys from the mess in my bag and, without looking, push the unlock for my car. It beeps faithfully in the same place I left it and I hurry to the sound like a moth to flame.

It’s a smallish car that’s starting to rust near the top. I open the drivers’ door and toss my bag in the passenger seat before throwing myself in and shutting the door, shutting out the world, disturbing the rubber Kuromi keychain hanging from the rearview mirror. My breath comes out steamy. The car comes to life on the third try — best to let it warm up a bit before I go.

Inhale, exhale. I open up the groupchat.

jean: you will do no such thing

jean: @/me

mr. handsome: so THATS what it takes for u to finally visit

mr. handsome: ive been keeping it nice and clean just for u 😙

mr. handsome: until mr covid came and ruined it

mikachu (replying to @/me): dw about it babes xx

sashacado: mika get me chocolate

mikachu: maybe. driving

Mikasa and I, weirdly enough, were the first to get our full licenses. A smile pulls at my face and I duck down to look at my lap. Jean had nearly begged us to give him driving lessons, and of course, I agreed. Days of close calls, driving under the speed limit, getting honked at, constantly checking the mirrors, nearly rear-ending people at stop signs, elbows touching on the armrest…

Of course, now Jean can drive without a hitch. Maybe not good enough yet that I’d sleep while he does it, but that’s a personal thing.

I almost put my phone down before noticing I have a few more private messages.

jean: seriously you dont have to come. im fine

jean: its acc not a big deal

jean: i had colds like this before. im not ur responsibility

Something about that last line stings. I guess he’s right, technically. We’re not that close. Who am I kidding?

But I already announced to the world what I’m going to do. And I already decided on it.

me: im coming whether you like it or not. watch connie for me

When I can’t see my breath anymore I start driving.

Stohess is a big campus. And while I’m not a huge fan of carbon emissions, I’m also not a fan of 20-minute walks in blistering, dry cold (or wet cold, for that matter). Also, I don’t want to keep Jean waiting. The eco society is going to kill me.

I pull in to the all-too-familiar parking spot, the one Jean pulled into a hundred times in preparation for his driving test in his new, expensive car his parents bought him because “he was doing so good with his driving!”

He’d thanked me profusely for helping him out, which, in hindsight, was mildly out of character for a broody, arrogant guy like him.

But then again, so was kissing me at that party. Not so much the kissing part. Just the me part. And the gentle-tight way he held me, the way he looked into my eyes…

I suck in a sharp breath. But I’m doing this as a friend. Not because of whatever we might be. If Connie was the one who got sick, I’d be here, too.

Steeling my nerves, I take my bag with an iron grip and make for the dorm.

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The door is already open when I arrive, propped open by a deflated volleyball. Weird. Some music that sounds like it was taken straight from Fast and Furious plays from inside. Knowing Connie, it probably is.

Nothing stirs when I open the door, but it is a pretty quiet door. The living room is right in front of me, ugly antique couch and all, but it’s completely empty. I didn’t walk into the wrong room, did I?

“Connie? Jean?” I slip off my shoes — Connie is insistent (I think shoes in the house is a crime anyway) — and creep through the dorm. “You guys?“

My voice rings through. Nothing. Peals of dread condense in my stomach and I pick up the pace, nearly barreling to a stop in front of the bathroom. I knock; first on the bathroom, then Jean’s bedroom. Connie left his door open.

“Jean? You in there?”

No response.

“I’m gonna— I’m opening the door, okay?”

And without time to think about what might be on the other side, I twist the knob and push.

Nothing. I even look behind the shower curtains.

Who even closes an empty bathroom?

Next is Jean’s room, but it’s also empty.

Where the hell are they?

I check my phone again and text the group chat.

me: @/mr. handsome @/jean where are you guys?

Waiting…

lainah: Gym

What.

me: are you sure.

lainah: One image attachment

Sure enough.

I should have noticed when his parking spot was empty.

me: dont let them leave. omw now

Sasha starts typing something but I throw my phone in the bag. I should have known they’d pull some bullshit like this. Well, not they. He. Something blistering and boiling threatens to spill over within me, but I take a deep breath. I’ll deal with him when I get there.

Jean’s a smart man, but not when he’s being stubborn.

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The car ride, despite being short, gave me a chance to cool my nerves.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. I grip the steering wheel in front of the gym. It’s fine. And step out.

Anytime Fitness is a strange and marvellous place full of people you might not see anywhere else. I don’t care about them. I scan the machines and see Reiner on the treadmill, and he meets my eyes a moment after. He nods in a different direction and I follow his gaze until I see the unmistakable bronze and shaved hair combination. I mouth a thank you and he smiles.

I must look completely out of place here, weaving between sweaty and half-naked bodies in my coat and jeans like I have a demon on my tail until I’m standing behind the chest press.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Connie’s saying and by the way Jean grunts it’s definitely not the first time.

“Let it go. I’m fine, and I’m going to the gym like I always do.” Jean’s voice is thick and nasal. “Buzz off.”

“Look, I already left the house with you. I can’t let you die here.”

“I said I’m fine—”

At the end of Jean’s rep, I slip the pin out of the weights. Jean nearly lunges over as the heaviness suddenly decreases.

Both look at me.

Connie looks normal. Jean is already slick with sweat, hair askew, red-nosed, with a slight wheeze lining his breath as he sits on the edge of the seat. Not normal. Not fine.

“Jean. My car. Now.” I point at Connie. “You take his back.”

A slight smile cracks his visage and that’s all I see before whipping around like an army man and making my way out.

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There’s a lot of things I could be saying, but I don’t, because there’s too much. So we drive home in silence.

Now that we’re closer, I can really hear the struggle with Jean’s every breath, the occasional cough, the mucous-laced sniffs, as much as he might try to hide it. He just sits there, going on his phone, staring out the window, until:

“Pull over.”

And his eyes are closed, head tilted up, pained look on his sweat drenched-face. I move to the side of the door without question and he scrabbles for the handle — I unlock it for him — before opening the door and half-falling over as he pukes.

I pinch my lip between my teeth and look the other way as the smell hits right after. Fine my ass.

Ever since I was young, the sound of heaving has always unsettled me. Even fake gags. Like it flips a switch in my heart to induce a sudden thrill of terror as if someone horror-movie screamed. And yeah, it’s just throwing up, but I hate it.

My heart races as he unloads again and I just want to plug my ears. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t sit here.

When the coast is clear I hop out and walk around the back. Jean is squatting on the pavement right before it hits the grass where his vomit lays, poking up through the stiff shoots. Though we’re outside, the smell is even worse. I try not to look at it as I hand Jean a bottle of water and set a stack of napkins I filched from Wendy’s on the passenger seat beside him.

“Thank—” he manages to croak out before pitching over again.

He’s been growing out his hair. I guess I didn’t notice it before, but now it’s long enough to get in his face in this position.

I gather the strands in my hands — soft as that day before the turn of the year — and hold them on the crown of his head as he retches.

When he’s done, I consider rolling down the windows, but decide against it.

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Jean hardly notices when I pull in (again). Weirdly enough, his car still isn’t here — either Connie drives like a grandpa or he’s gone off somewhere.

“Jean.”

He inhales through his mouth, sucking up the new, pukey scent of my car, and opens his door with half-lidded eyes, leaning hard. It bumps against the campus van I’m parked beside and I cringe. Parked too close. He’s in no state to stand up on his own, let alone walk.

“Let me help you.”

He grunts in something like disagreement and I shut my door on him, going around the back again. Soiled napkins are shoved into the door storage and the water bottle is half-empty and crushed on the floor. Well. I offer a hand and after some hesitation he takes it, clasping my shoulder, and when I help him stand the added weight nearly crushes me. Jean is big, maybe not muscular like Reiner, but tall. Even through my coat and his too-thin sweater he radiates heat and he grunts a sickly air into my ear as he finds his footing. There’s barely enough room for the both of us between the car and the van so I shuffle us sideways, around the other side of the car and to the front. I gently lower Jean so he leans against the hood.

“Wait here.”

He doesn’t object as I shut the passenger door and lock the car before going back and offering my shoulder once again and I nearly fall over once again and we huddle together into the building. He’s never this quiet. Never so agreeable. Never so willing to take the help that’s offered to him.

This is a side of Jean I’ve never seen before. A side that I surely was never meant to see.

I swallow thickly and shuffle our bodies forward so I can push the button for the elevator. His head bumps against mine as it droops but he quickly straightens. “Sorry. Sorry.” His voice is gravelly and small, so small, as if it came from another person entirely.

I stare at the side of his face, but he’s focussed on something far away. “You’re okay, Jean.”

The elevator dings open and we go in. Seventh floor button. The door rolls shut.

Beep. Our knees buckle as the elevator accelerates and the screen above the button panel indicates that it’s going up. It usually smells of antiseptic unless it’s been raining.

Beep. The elevator’s always been slow which is why most people take the stairs instead. Connie calls it the ‘hellevator’ because he swears it almost dropped him once.

Beep. Jean’s trying to steady himself; hold himself up.

Beep. We haven’t been this close together since the party.

Beep. Jean takes an unusually large, wheezy breath and holds it. “Sorry.” His voice is hardly a rumble against my side.

“Why are you sorry?” I ask, quietly.

Beep. “For making you do this.”

Beep. The door retracts and muffled hip-hop fills the air. We walk off the hellevator and stand in front of the dorm. 704. An opaque plastic bag hangs off the handle and I take it in the same hand I hold my bag — thanks, Mikasa.

“You have your key?”

Jean grumbles and taps his pockets, pulling out a key ring. A rubber charm — Badtz-Maru, the little angry penguin — hangs from the ring. Sasha gave all of us one in her Sanrio phase. Keroppi for Connie, Charmy for Mikasa, Pompompurin for Marco, Cinamaroll for Eren, Kuromi for me. I (was forced to) help her choose.

The key retracts and Jean uses his free arm to turn the handle and shoulder the door open. He clears — tries to clear — the phlegm in his throat. “Alexa,” he gurgles. “Alexa, stop.”

The music immediately ceases and we stumble to the couch where Jean unceremoniously drops and tucks his head between the armrest and cushioned back, looking utterly uncomfortable.

“Get up, Jean.”

He sniffs.

“Come on. Bed.” I drop my bags on the coffee table. “Not couch.”

“No.”

“Connie will throw a fit. And so will I.”

“Just—” he tries clearing his throat again— “go.”

“I’m not leaving until you get better.” I blink. No, I’m not leaving him here alone. Why does that surprise me?

“I’m fine. I told you. Done it before. I’ll get better.”

“Done it before?” I giggle falsely. “What, you used to rawdogging colds all by yourself?”

A car passes outside, a familiar rising and falling sound against the unfamiliar silence of the dorm.

“Jean?”

“Go…”

And I swear he’s never sounded so… vulnerable before. Like he’s laid out all his organs on a big table and I’m holding the scalpel. Just waiting for the incision.

A little softer, I tell him, “I’m not going anywhere, Jean.”

And I take the goodie bag and head for the simple kitchen — that is, an inlaid fridge, stove, and pantry cramped behind an island counter with a sink. I hold the electric kettle Reiner got for Jean’s and Connie’s fifth anniversary (he thought they were together at first) under the sink and let it fill to two cups just in case before setting it back and switching it on.

Then I rummage through the drawers and cupboards until I find an old, strangely moist box of tea packets. Yuzu mist or Cheerful Citrus? I opt for the latter.

Tearing open the package, I glance at Jean who still hasn’t moved. The teabag I dump into a printed mug that Jean likes to use.

NUMBER 1 COUGAR

I wonder where he got that.

The kettle clicks off when the water boils and I fill the mug. Oh. Honey would be good. I return to the couch and sift through my bag, shifting my keys in the process. Now Jean stirs.

“Are you leaving?”

“No, Jean.”

I keep rummaging. I know it’s in there. Might be in deep, but—

“Please don’t.”

I pause, emotions — affection? concern? — swirling like particles of tea in water. “Okay, Jean.”

I finish making the tea in silence with an almost-empty bag of milk left in the fridge. How do these boys even survive? All that’s in there are cold cuts and a bag of only bread butts, among some other, strange things. Including a pair of boxers.

“Can you sit up?”

Jean sighs into the cushion and braces against the armrest to push himself into somewhat of a sitting position.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

His eyes cast down. I swallow the silence that suddenly envelops us. Nothing weird. Just a room. I’m just a caretaker. “Come on, Jean.”

“Can— can you help me?”

I fall into the little divot in the couch where Jean sits and let him wrap an arm around my shoulder. “Ready?” I say. “One, two…”

We stumble up and pass through the already-ajar door to Jean’s bedroom and I nearly stop to take a better look. He has blackout curtains, currently drawn, painting the room in a dark blue light except for a thin bar of sunlight from between the curtains that propagates as a glowing line on the carpet. The walls are plastered in posters, sketches, paintings, sketches. Half-finished drawings on his desk and swivel chair and a few on the ground. A small compartment shoved into one corner with every art supply imaginable.

Still taking in the view, I (we) back into the bed, butt-first, and Jean unwraps himself from me.

“You won’t… do anything weird… to me?”

I smile. Conversational, that’s good. “Not unless you want me to.” And I wish I had shut up before the first word even came out of my stupid mouth. Standing, I look over my shoulder. “I’m getting the medicine.”

“Wait. Don’t.”

Under the doorframe now, I pause. “I’m not leaving. I’ll be right back.” And I go to the goodie bag.

I should just work on keeping my mouth shut. Mikasa had picked out some ibuprofen, NyQuil, and lozenges. Pills should be good. I take the mug and the box and head back.

When I get back Jean’s sitting against the headboard, trying to uncrumple his blanket to get underneath.

“Let me help.”

He watches me then, helpless — Jean fucking Kirschtein, helpless! — as I set down the pills and mug on his glass nightstand and unfold the mess he’s got on the mattress. “Pull your legs up.”

He obeys. I pull the quilt over him.

I try not to stare. “You can put your legs down now.”

He obeys.

“Sit up, Jean. You need more pillows.”

Eyes glued to me, he leans forward so I can take his other pillow to prop him up more comfortably, leaning back when I touch his warm shoulder. Then I take the mug and offer it to him. “Drink some of this.”

Painfully quiet, he takes the mug with both hands and takes a tentative sip, lips curling around the brim of the ceramic to slurp up the soothing drink. He’s doing good. Until he hits a bump and starts sputtering.

Immediately I take the drink as he coughs up whatever went down the wrong way. When he’s done I realize I’ve been rubbing circles into his back so I take my hand off.

My phone buzzes in the living room. Shit.

“I’ll be back.”

Jean stares at his knees under the blanket and doesn’t move when I come back.

sashacado: omg yall

sashacado: theyre gonma be killed💯

armong us: What’s going on?

sashacado: @/lainah what did u do

lainah: One video attachment

sashacado: ONG LMFAOOO

sashacado pinned a message

mr. handsome: @/me im headed to urs with sash for a while. hope thats cool w you and all lmk if u need anything

jägermeister: are u fr leaving those two alone

mr. handsome: well good morning to u too pricness

Deleted message

jägermeister: oh right

sashacado: connor springer delete that message rn @/mr. handsome

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

mr. handsome: ok ok jfc im sorry

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

sashacado: ok good

Whatever the hell they’re up to now.

Jean thrashes slowly and I feel a little guilty for staring down at my phone the whole time. “Are you okay?” I breathe, sticking to his beside like a magnet. “Are you in pain?”

“Hot,” is all he says.

I peel the blanket off. He is hot. Really hot.

Not like that. He’s feverish.

“Can you… help me?”

“Yeah?” I stare at him — help with what? — until he raises his arms over his head.

Oh. A few circuits in my head switch off. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m can help.” Idiot.

Like touching something radioactive I grasp the edge of his sweater and slowly raise it, catching the shirt underneath for a fleeting second before it falls back down. Deep breath. Yes, I am helping out a guy I’m dating-not-dating who I’m definitely not attracted to to take off his clothes in his bedroom in his empty dorm. Because he’s sick. No problem. Because I’m a good friend.

The neckline catches on his jaw and I unhook it, delicately trailing the scruff on his jaw in the process.

And it’s off and on the ground. Holy shit. Jean’s been sweating. And I know all that dampness on his shirt, clinging feebly to his attractive sick form, didn’t come from his 10 minutes at the gym.

He doesn’t lower his arms. Oh, so we’re doing it like this.

Okay.

I come forward again, within earshot to the rattling in Jean’s chest with his every breath, and quite literally peel the thin white shirt off. This time it’s impossible not to touch his incredibly warm and damp body, not to scrape my nails against the softness of his skin, from his waist to his broad shoulders all the way down his arms. Now he puts them down.

I almost forget he still smells like puke.

“My pants…”

Ohoho. No way, buster. You’re on your own. I’m calling Connie. Nooo way.

“Okay, but unbuckle yourself.”

He does without question, fumbling first with his belt, which I help slide off, and then his jeans.

What in the ever-loving fuck am I doing? This sounds like a smut setup. No. I’m just a friend helping out a sick friend, two friends who have never done anything even slightly romantic together.

“Sit up on the edge, okay?”

He heaves his sweaty self to the edge of the bed, palms leaving wet marks on the sheets, and, staring at the ceiling, I grasp at the hem of his pants (skirting his boxers or whatever he’s wearing because I’m not looking) and pull them (he lifts himself at first to help) all the way down. In one smooth movement I turn back around.

“Put your shirt over your… yourself.”

I wait a good few heartbeats before turning back around and lo and behold, he’s done as told. Frankly, it looks even worse now, like he’s lying in bed completely naked with just a shirt covering him. (But that’s only true if I think it’s true!) The jeans I’m still clutching for some reason I deposit on a chair.

“Jean, I’ll be right back, okay?” I wait for a response I should know isn’t coming before going out again, this time in search for a facecloth. Which I do find, shoved in the corner of the linen cabinet. I should be grateful they even have some, but then again, it might’ve been another gift from Reiner they didn’t have the heart to throw away. I rinse it under some cool water and announce my re-entry.

“I’m back. Sit still.” Folding some of the damp cloth over two fingers, I carefully dab at the sweat on his forehead. No, I need to… I pick off some strands of his sandy hair from his face, holding his hair back against his scalp, and try again. Better. “Jean?”

He opens his eyes halfway, and they raise lazily to meet mine. He’s sweaty everywhere and too late I catch myself stroking his head. I wipe his cheek next.

“Drink some tea, okay? I need you to take a pill.”

“Pillk?”

“Yes,” I say encouragingly, like training a puppy. Neck next. “Just a pill.”

He takes in a deep mouth breath. There’s a portrait stuck to the ground on the other side of his bed.

Is that…

“I can’t.”

My eyes snap back and I pause, dabbing at his collarbone. “What’s that?”

He shakes his head, furrowing his brows as if the action took too much effort. “Can’t… swallow. Can’t swallow pills.”

I blink. “You can’t take pills?”

A fleeting smile meets his lips. “Vitamin gummies. Not. Vitamin pills. Might get stuck in m’throat.”

I fold up the cloth into a rectangle and smooth it out onto his forehead. “Just take some tea with it.”

“Tried. No.”

Who knew? For a guy with such a big mouth, he sure has a small esophagus.

“Jean, it’ll make you feel better.”

“No.”

I pop open the box and break open the tinfoil seal to take out a single pill.

“Noo…”

“Jean, you’ll be fine. You’re a big boy now.” And I vow never to speak again.

When I push the little oval against his mouth, I find it won’t open. Jean is breathing laboriously through his 90 percent clogged nostrils.

“Open up.”

He purses his lips, further preventing entry, and I swear he’s smiling a little.

“Very funny. Take your pill. You’re gonna suffocate yourself.”

Still nothing. I pinch his nose. He makes a muffled noise but otherwise doesn’t react.

Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. At thirty-three I let go. “Are you really willing to kill yourself over a pill?”

“Don’t want. Don’t need.”

“Yeah, and I ‘don’t need’ you choking over your own puke in your sleep.”

“No…”

“Jean.” I feel terrible already for doing it like this. “Try. If you don’t at least try, I’ll leave.”

I bite my lip, awaiting his response. I really shouldn’t have said that. I’m such an asshole. Fuck.

“Okay.”

Deep breath. I push the pill against his bottom lip and the soft tissue yields against my fingers for a moment before he opens. The mug is to his lips not a moment after; he gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing, and the tea in his mouth suddenly explodes out and sprays warmly all over my face.

All. Over.

I peel my eyes open after impact. Jean looks more awake than he did before, and with a discernible expression, too: terror.

Okay. Good!

Slowly, he reaches for the sweat-soaked cloth on his head and offers it to me. I shake my head.

“Be right back.”

Bathroom. Cold water. Cold water against my face. There’s two razors on the sink and the edges of the white surface have some hairs on them. Face hairs, I’m sure. I pray.

If whatever Jean has is contagious, I sure as hell have it now.

I turn the tap off and swipe the water from my face. Great. Okay. I bunch up my now-wet sweater. I can do this.

I re-enter the bedroom. Jean sits up a little straighter now, sipping in small increments. “Sorry.”

I put my sweater on the chair. “It’s okay.”

“I— really—”

“Jean, it’s okay.”

“I’m fine. I’ll get better.” Which is about the most complete sentence he’s said in a while.

“I told you I’m not going anywhere, didn’t I?”

He doesn’t say anything. Almost unconsciously, I gravitate to his bed.

“You already did too much for me.”

“Nonsense.”

“Why do… you do this?”

Now that gets me thinking. Because you’re sick. Because I’m a good friend. Because you’re my guinea pig for Hospitality 101. Maybe all three.

My eyes trace back to the scribbled portrait on the other side of Jean’s bed and I take the cloth from his forehead.

Thousands upon thousands of excuses, and a singular truth.

“Because I like you.”

And I take my time going back to the bathroom.

Cold water. Cold water against my hands.

“Coming in.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” Jean clears his throat, almost inaudible against my beating heart. “Back at the party. Wasn’t… nothing.”

“Wasn’t all that much, either,” I say dryly. Hopefully he doesn’t notice how shaky my hands are. How shaky against his pallid skin.

Jean inhales and I can see the movement through his chest. “No. Wasn’t a lot.” He tilts his head up at a minuscule angle to scan my face, and maybe it’s the perspective, or the weird lighting, but I could swear he’s never looked at me like this before.

Except for that time.

“So I’d…” he swallows. “Like— like to have more.”

For a few seconds, it’s silent. For a few seconds, all that there is are his dim eyes and mine. For a few seconds, we fall into each other and tread water, sinking, fading…

I break our gaze and tremblingly pluck a tissue from a box on the ground; hold it to his nose. “Blow.”

He takes a shaky breath and obeys.

Fold. “Again.”

He shuts his eyes and blows.

“Again.”

He blows until his air gives out. I drop the spent tissue.

“Again?”

He shakes his head.

“Let’s try the pill.”

He nods and stares as I open the foil for a second time and pop the new one in my mouth.

He watches, confused, until a wave of realization seems to hit him.

He stays statue-still as I lean in, put a hand on the headboard on either side of his head.

His heat, like a barrier, raises the hairs on my skin. He cups my jaw. I cradle the side of his neck, and his pulse beats at a million miles a minute. The pill begins to dissolve.

Our mouths barely touch, and I make the final connection.

Jean is tall. Jean is arrogant. Jean will laugh at you when you fall.

But Jean has the softest lips, the sweetest mouth (even when he puked out a buffet no more than half an hour ago). Jean will melt like soft butter under your touch. Jean will accept your tongue, no questions asked, and retaliate with twice the vengeance.

Like I’ve been dreaming of since that brief moment at the party, I let my hand run insouciant through his hair. No eyes watching. No social boundary.

He gasps softly for air and I do the same, pulling his scalp so he tilts to meet me better with a small grunt. God, I fucking love his hair.

Now both of his iron-hot hands are on me, hooking under my shirt, running up and down, claiming every square inch, and I let mine fall from his neck down to his slick chest down to his stomach down to his abs. Other still planted firmly in his hair, pulling, twirling, pulling, and when I tug again Jean squeezes so hard, doubling down, suddenly hungry, suddenly a starving man. Wrapping his arms around my back and pulling me closer, I oblige, hooking a leg onto his bed, between his knees, and my thigh brushes against his still-damp T-shirt, and he groans softly into my mouth—

and swallows with an ulp!

and it’s over.

I stroke his throat as the pill goes down and he stares hollowly at me until it’s gone. I recline and smile.

“Is that enough for you?”

Unblinking, he pulls me down again.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Connie kicks the asphalt with his definitely real Gucci slides. “Are you done?”

“Shh!”

He shoots his friend a withering look — that is, as withering of a look that he can muster.

“This is creepy. And I’m cold. Can we at least—”

Sasha puts down her binoculars and shows him what a real killer glare is. He rolls his eyes and scans his phone. Eren’s sent a message to the matchmaker groupchat.

emo king🖤⛓️: are u sure this plan of urs worked out

emo king🖤⛓️: excuse me if this is harsh, but it’s probably the dumbest shit of ur dumbshit ideas

me: yeah try telling Sash that

sharmin ultra soft: Eren’s right. Chances are Jean puked and turned everyone off

intimidating woman: i think there’s a chance

emo king🖤⛓️: are u fr in on this mikasa

sashami: you guys shh the star coming

Sasha shoots him another look before putting her non-stalker scope away in preparation for the star of the day’s arrival.

“Whad’d I do?”

As far as he knows, Connie is doing everything right. He’d told everyone that he was sleeping over at Sasha’s. (Her idea.) And now it’s Monday, and it’s time for the star’s (code name) first class (and also Sasha’s), and now they’re sitting out in the cold like a couple of dumbasses watching the stairwell windows. (Also her idea.) What the heck?

“I’m going in the car,” Connie grumbles. He doesn’t wait for the inevitable retort and climbs in to the drivers’ seat.

The car. The one silver lining to this whole ordeal. He’d eaten, put his feet up in, and used up every last drop of gas on this baby and Jean couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

But the person coming through the door isn’t their star. It’s Jean. Huh?

Connie pops out of the vehicle and joins up with Sasha.

“Oh— you’re here, too?” Jean’s brow furrows deeper. “What’s going on?”

“Well, hello to you, too,” Connie grins. “Looks like you‘re doing a lot better.”

“No thanks to you lot.”

“Where are you going?” Sasha pipes in, and he knows what’s coming next. She’s using her interviewer voice.

“Just… going to class.” Jean smacks Connie’s shoulder. “Keys?”

He produces them with a flourish and a jangle and the taller takes them, unlocking the car.

Beep beep!

Sasha casually tails him, twisting around to block the driver’s side door.

“Sash.”

“Were you a good host?”

“I mean, I was really sick.”

“You have actual, proper food, right? Did you feed your dear caretaker?”

“Uh…” he smirks. “Yeah.”

“Is your room clean?”

“It’s fine!”

“Did you sleep together?”

He rolls his eyes and wedges a hand between his car and the girl. “Okay, get out.”

“Answer my question!” Sasha cries as she stumbles back and Jean hops in. Without another word, the car backs out. Jean turns and comes forward so he’s perpendicular to the parking spot before lowering his window.

“Connie! You owe me 20!” And then he’s gone.

Dumbfounded, the boy looks to Sasha, finding her staring at her phone. “What’s wrong? You on your period?”

“Oh, fuck off. Look.”

star: sorry sash,, not coming to hospitality. i got sick :(

star: jeans staying home for me tho. dont wait up <3

And the mastermind screenshots the fruits of her labour.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

would you look at that. more kissing. *throws tomato* i did 80% of this in one day. no regrets!! (said eren.) (ill shut the fuck up now) i hope you enjoyed! it actually turned out a lot less gross than i originally planned (they were gonna do it with the nyquil ewwwww) but this is fine. right? i never actually kept a pill on my tongue like that for so long so for my sanity's sake let's pretend this is how it all works.

this started out as a oneshot. however,,, i decided to add more parts to it because i'm a sucker. check it out if you like! <3

byebye

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

masterlist part 2 - low tide

#jean kirschtein fanfiction #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein fanfiction #jean kirstein x reader #aot fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #pushable #pushs oneshots

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