#so i appreciate you coming with a point of view in such a calm and collected manner

[rise-my-angel]

Thought this might give you some food for thought: I’m anti j*nrya and anti j*nsa on the grounds of incest but I like J*nerys. And here’s why. Our brains identify our relatives based on our lives experience with them, not actual blood shared. The material experience and lived relationships we have with other people are not changed by learning that there is blood shared or not shared. That’s why Jon still loved Dany when he found out they were related, even though he was uncomfortable with it. It didn’t dissolve the way his brain categorized her (as a non relative) based on experience. Likewise, Jon finding out that his siblings are actually his cousins isn’t going to make him suddenly able to be attracted to them because his whole life his brain has categorized them as relatives. When he meets and bonds with Dany, they have no idea. This is why it’s actually pretty uncommon for lifelong childhood friends raised side by side to end up together. Their experience is likely to have led their brains to classify each other as relatives. This all isn’t meant to change your mind or anything like that, but I’ve had people question how I can be against J*nsa, J*nrya, D*emyra, etc but like Jonerys

You have an interesting point of view, but I respectfully disagree entierly for a few reasons. First being, it scientifically is actually based off of blood. We are genetically hardwired to be sexually and romantically repulsed by our blood relatives, because it is a survival instinct against inbreeding.

It's why most long lost relatives are not accidentally attracted to family members before learning of their relation. We are genuinly hardwired in our DNA and genetic code to be repulsed by those who share within those sets of genetics. We can detect invisible markers that our conscious minds do not know about that indicate a similarity in blood relatives and will repulsed immediately. It's why incest is so abnormal, because it is biologically unnatural to be attracted to members of your family even if you don't know they are your blood relatives.

It's why the Targaryean incestual practices made them extinct, because it is unsustainable. We are biologically opposed to inbreeding because of the serious medical complications and issues of infertility. If I breed with my uncle, we share too many of the same genetic markers. Meaning that whatever rare syndromes or diseases we carry hereditary genes of, need to be matched with a partner that does not carry a hereditary ability to pass those rare conditions on. If I breed with my uncle we are too similar and it increases the chance a child would inherit those rare conditions because they did not have a second parent that could cancel out the hereditary genes. It's why we are almost never attracted to any blood relative, it is a survival instinct coded within our very dna.

Meaning it doesn't matter if Jon had no idea he was related to her, there is a 99% chance Jon naturally would not have any attraction to her because biology would already be warning him of the red flags his internal sensors are picking up of similar genetic traits. He also would likely be horrified because Dany is related to him in the exact way Jon thought he was related to Lyanna (meaning having sex with a woman who is his aunt likely would leave him traumatized since he just learned a woman he thought was aunt is actually his mother). She's his aunt in the exact way Benjen was his uncle, and he grew up both not raised to think incest is normal and he follows the old gods which strongly condemns it. He psychologically would have trauma learning he was related to her after having sex with her.

Also, being transparent, Dany being related to him is literally like one of the last reasons I have against them as a ship. My argument is Jon would oppose her as a human being because she stands for everything he finds monstrous, and their entire relationship is abuse and any subsequent sex is rape.

I outline a lot of this in this post and this post if you were curious.

I respect your choice to ship it but I fundamentally disagree with any argument of Jon ever being attracted to her for multiple reasons.

I think he would never be attracted to her, like her, or respect her. And I think their show relationship is gross and abusive, and rape.

The incest is just the icing on the 'no' cake.

[juletheghoul]

Grown

AN: I am sort of going through a writing bender? A manic episode? I don't know, I just know that if I don't get it down I will lose my mind. I have been wanting to write an age-gap fic for Joel (aside from LMF) for a while but I couldn't really find the format or the idea that I could sink my teeth into. There are SO MANY good ones out there, I even had a whole other thing started but it got too intense, and making it sexual wouldn't have been true to that version of Joel, so here is what I came up with. (I kept Tess out of this story) Big thank you to @foli-vora for letting me exorcise this demon, and to @frannyzooey for putting up with my endless messages and voice notes through discord, love y'all! (this is unbeta'd and barely proofread, any and all mistakes are mine)

Joel Miller x F!reader (sex worker) (Joel calls you ‘Pretty’)

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.9K

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) , language, Smut 18+, PIV sex (wrap it up), fingering, cream pie, one lonely little lick of his cock👅, come play sort of? dirty talk, age gap (legal), feelings of guilt, talk of sex work, some of it traumatic (no details, no violence)

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist 

He was a risk, calculated but definitely worth it up close. He fidgeted, flexing and unflexing his hands as you moved around the tiny studio apartment. Your home, and ‘office’. You’d searched long and hard, and paid a hefty price for the soft lamps, the newish linens for your bed, the homey touches.

He shifted his weight as you put the quilt down, separating the outside world from the privacy of your sheets. Easier to clean up after too. 

“Boots off, please.” You gesture to the place by the door, and he nodded with a frown. 

“Sorry.” He groaned as he brought his foot up and for a moment you saw his age, through the pleasant features. 

“No problem, how do you want me?” You stand at the foot of the bed, naked under the well-worn, but cherished robe and for a moment he gawps. You don’t laugh, men don’t like it when you laugh. “On my back?” 

“Wait- how old are you again?” He pads over, tall and broad, obscuring the light source when he walks past it. 

“Old enough.” You smile, “come, why don’t you sit here with me?” You hold out your hand to him, and after a tense glance, he takes it and sits where you gesture. His grip is firm, but soft, years of hard work rooted in the calluses that meet your significantly softer palm. It isn’t a turn off though, he’s a man, men work hard. The real ones do, or did anyway.

“How long do I have? S’there anyone else…?” He trails off, his voice cutting off and you smile, placating. 

“You have as long as you need, tonight's all yours.” You sit beside him, and put your hand tentatively on his arm, channeling every single ounce of calm you have and pouring it into him. He’s warm and alive beside you, heat radiating off him under the soft pass of your thumb against the skin peeking out under the denim sleeve, you let the soft light, the light patter of rain outside your window work on him. He surveys the area, learning the layout of your space and you don’t interfere, you follow his gaze and try to see it all from his point of view. 

It's small, but comfortable. It’s exceedingly clean, you’d spent hours and hours making sure, back breaking hours on your hands and knees scrubbing and washing and it had paid off, no matter how sore you’d been after. There’s a little table, with two chairs, a big lumpy chair near the window, where you spent most of your time not working curled up with one of your precious books. He noticed the tiny chest of drawers, the top of it clear except for a half-full glass of water. He saw the baseball bat leaning against the wall tucked just behind it. 

“Can I get a little closer?” You scoot a little, pressing your thigh to his, turning to hold his restless arm between your breasts, your fingers intertwining with his while he got accustomed to your own warmth. Those big, callused, hard-working hands wrapped up in yours. Invitingly warm.

Some people needed a little push, sometimes they were nervous on how to start and they needed someone to get them out of their heads. Some wanted to talk, to sprawl out naked with you and get all of their thoughts out. 

Loneliness is the main malady you alleviate. 

Some didn’t want to talk at all, some just wanted you to open your legs and take, and that was okay too. Everyone had their thing. 

“This okay?” You put your linked palms on the little bit of skin poking out through the gap in your robe, your skin surrounding both sides of his hand. 

“Yeah, s’okay.” He watches the robe slip open, and his other hand joins the fray, pulling it apart to see more of your thigh. He licks his lip as more of you is revealed and you artfully let the shoulder slip, drawing his eye up to your cleavage. He pats his leg, and you get a genuine thrill, sliding over and up onto his lap. He needed no further guidance after that, now that he had permission, his body was taking over. 

His eyes were dark, focused, tracking the line of your throat when you swallowed thickly. He watched the way your breath hitched when he slid his hand up your inner thigh and found you bare underneath, his fingers slipping through the silky hair at your mound, his fingers parting your lips softly to find your slick folds. He lets out a shuddering breath at the same time you do, when his finger slips over your clit. 

“I’m too old for you, pretty.” He watches his hand between your legs, using it to spread your thighs enough to see your pussy dripping for him. 

“You don’t feel too old.” You hold onto his neck, giving him more access and your stomach drops to feel him hardening under the swell of your ass. You pull his hand from between your legs, and dip his fingers into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around them before pressing them back against your achy clit. He pulls a genuine moan of pleasure at the extra slip when he swirls around your clit nice and slow. Tortuous, and talented.

“So fuckin’ soft,” He glides his fingers down, circling your entrance but his eyes are focused on your mouth now, “bet you’re tight as a fist, aren’t you baby?” He slides two thick fingers inside and you clutch at him, more turned on by him than you’ve ever been doing this line of work.

It’s a stretch, but he works them in, pressing against your upper wall, looking for something and when he finds it you whimper in his arms. 

“Do you kiss?” You barely hear him over the blood pounding in your ears, his fingers curling inside you, and he puts more pressure on the button he’s found and you moan, lost and mindlessly enjoying the fullness. 

He presses devastatingly soft, tender kisses to your throat, completely at odds with the wet sounds of his exploration between your legs. 

“Baby, can we kiss?” He repeats it, this time with his fingers still, but stuffed deep. You press your mouth to his, humid and hot and he tastes like the good alcohol you have stashed in your cupboard. He groans and his fingers scissor inside you, squelching between your legs with every lazy pump. He traps your bottom lip between his, alternating a teasing bite to the plump of it, with deep licks into your mouth. You’ve never been kissed like this. 

“You just gonna use your fingers?” He pulls away to skim his nose down your neck, bunching the top of the robe in the splayed hand at your back to pull it down from where it hangs on your shoulder. His mouth engulfs your nipple when it falls and any thoughts that he may be too old for you seem to slip his mind because he doubles down, moaning obscenely into your skin as you leak onto his lap. 

“No, just wanna open you up, I wanna make sure this little pussy can take me.” Arousal and excitement pools in your belly. 

“What a gentleman.” You laugh, half crazed with lust for this man who just might be old enough to be your father. He smiles, drunk on the way your pussy clenches around his fingers, his spit still shining on your breast. He has a dimple, so boyish in contrast to the grey in his beard and in his hair you can’t help but love it, it suits him.

“Spread your legs a little more for me darlin’,” one hand is heavy on your hip, holding you so you can drop one leg and open up a little more, “I wanna see you come,” he speeds up, his thumb now doing tight little circles against your clit and you moan, unabashedly, “look how wet she is,” he stares between your legs “I just wanna see her come.” He hooks his fingers again and the pressure is almost too much. It only takes a few moments, his fingers pet, pet, pet and then you clench, the pleasure going off in your belly like a bomb, radiating out through your breasts, into your hips, all the way down to your fingers and toes. 

A universe contained within your body, borne of his hand.

“Fuck.” Your legs close over his hand, and he slows down but doesn’t stop, a softer, slower stroke while you catch your breath. “Let's get you outta these clothes.” you start undoing the buttons to his shirt, admiring the breadth of his shoulders, the smattering of freckles littered along his skin. He pulls his fingers out from between your legs, shiny and dripping in you and sticks them into his mouth, moaning at the tang of you. 

Undressing him is like opening a gift. His arms are strong, his biceps flexing when he all but lifts you up to stand, pulling your robe off and away from you like it’s on fire. His midsection is soft, but you can feel the strength underneath when you undo his jeans, tensing in excitement the closer you get to the considerable bulge in them. You curl your fingers around both his jeans, and his boxers, impatient to get him naked. You crouch as you pull them down, mouth watering at the size of him, hard and bobbing in front of you. The muscles in his thighs are firm, his skin so warm and you can’t help but lick a stripe up the underside of his cock on the way back up. 

He lets out a sound like he's been punched in the gut and you take it in like sustenance. 

“Don’t–I’ll come too fast if you put it in your mouth.”

You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, just as he reaches down to grab and spread the cheeks of your ass, stomach full of butterflies at the feeling of him hard and leaking against your belly. 

“But I wanna swallow it, I wanna feel it in my throat.” You pout and he lets out a shuddering breath, “Don’t you wanna fuck my mouth?” You press your lips to the hollow of his throat, your fingers slipping through the unruly, grey strands at the back of his neck. 

“Not now baby, I’m barely goin' to last as it is.” He turns you, pressing you to lay in the middle of your quilt and he’s quick to follow, fitting himself between your legs, leaning on one arm beside your skull and when he grabs his cock and gives it a few strokes, you almost can’t watch him. It’s too erotic, it looks so big in his hand, too big to fit but you know it will, he’ll make it fit. 

“Jesus Christ,” He whispers as he feeds himself inside you slowly, an inch, before pulling it out, then a little more, until he’s fucking you a little deeper each time. 

There wasn’t enough air in the room to fill your lungs, he took up every fucking drop. You’d been with other men, you’d been with women, all of them taking their pleasure from your body and most of them giving pleasure in return, this was something else. This was almost scary, the way the vision of him above you made your brain buzz and your nipples hard, made your cunt leak all over him. 

He moves up onto his knees, those big hands pull your legs up and apart, pressing the backs of your thighs into your chest, practically folding you in half to slide his cock deeper still.

He snapped his hips hard, pulling a sound you’d never made out of your mouth, again, and again, until it was a continuous babble. He watches the way his cock disappears inside the tight clutch of your cunt with every dirty roll of his hips. He sinks a little further down, and adjusts his stroke, until just the tip of it stays inside of every heavy push forward. 

This isn’t some desperate, lonely old guy looking to get his dick wet, this is a grown man, fucking you like a grown man does and you feel like a grown woman taking it. 

“Joel, baby that’s so fucking good-“ you press your hands to his chest where he leans against you. He’s focused, eyes glazed over, sweat dripping down his nose in his efforts. He shuts his eyes tight for a moment, his pace stuttering slightly and you know he’s not gonna last.

“I wanna see her come with me inside,” he whines, and you don’t want him to stop what he’s doing so you reach down and swirl your fingers around your clit while he watches, “that’s it baby, that’s it, fuck, I’m close-“ he somehow spreads you wider, the wet suck of your pussy is louder, more obscene, more erotic. 

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna-“ the orgasm strangles the words in your throat, pulsing him out but he pushes back in and you feel it all the way in your toes. 

“Fuuuuuckkk—“ he pulls out and pumps himself furiously against your mound, covering the soft patch of hair in spurt after milky spurt. It’s a lot, some has splashed onto your hip, your belly, you feel it slipping down to where you clench, empty and gaping without him filling you. 

It’s quiet for a moment after, while your blood cools, and he milks himself dry, pumping a few more times despite the over-sensitivity. 

“You got anything for me to clean you up with?” He rubs at the indents he left on the back of your thighs before unfolding you. 

“There’s a little pile of rags in that first drawer behind you.” You point to the tiny chest of drawers, and he groans when he moves up and off of you. Now that he’s emptied his balls, the signs of his age rear their heads. He groans, wincing as he bends forward to carefully wipe everything away with gentle hands. 

It’s nice to see him walk around naked, welcome, you wouldn’t mind seeing it more often, if he came back that was. 

“That was-“ he scratches at the back of his neck, passing the cloth over your belly, “that was really good.”

“I’ll say, it was better than good.” You stretch out and luxuriate like a cat in warm patch of sun, seriously debating offering him time to recover so he could fuck you again. He quirks his lip, the ghost of a smile, the confidence dulled to shy, awkward fumbling. He tosses the rag into the little basket you point to, and he begins the process of getting dressed. You get up when he’s almost done, your thighs, and what’s between already sore and pick up your robe. He’s putting his neat little stack of ration cards on the table when you finish tying it up. 

“Thanks.” He pulls his boots on, opening your door before turning back to find you right on his heels. 

“Anytime.” You smile at him, hoping it won’t be a one-time thing. He moves to step outside but you pull him back, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking something for your own. He kisses you back when you press your mouth to his, it's softer, his tongue sweet when it tangles with yours and you smile into the kiss when he reaches down, and grabs your ass. 

“Bye, Pretty.”

“Bye Joel.”

-

You hadn't fallen into the work, so much as slowly slid into it. The first time had been almost a dare, a challenge to yourself, a proposition made by someone and maybe your own foolish, naive need to prove that you weren’t some stupid baby. A man, an older man that had shared cleaning duty with you had come right out with it, saw you bending over to pick something off the floor and told you that he’d pay every ration card he had for a taste of that ass, as he so eloquently put it. 

At first you’d been shocked, he seemed like a perfectly bland, run of the mill survivor making his way in the QZ, but he’d been serious. You’d asked him to clarify, to repeat his words, and he had. He’d shaken his hands of the dirt and dust of the job, produced a tiny stack of much needed ration cards from a hidden pocket and held them out for you like a cold glass of water in the desert. Something inside you had recoiled, he wasn’t repulsive, but he wasn’t exactly the object of your late night fantasies. Another part though, a hidden little sliver of something jumped at the chance to have some power, some semblance of control and so without much thought to consequence, you’d taken him up on it. 

An uncomfortable fifteen minutes later, he was grunting behind you, stroking himself furiously to paint the cheeks of your ass in his come. 

Once it was done, the little part of you that had welcomed the challenge was curiously absent, and the part that had recoiled was bigger, swelling like some awful, infected limb. But you had rations enough to stop working for a few days, and that took some of the repulsion away. 

It was a while before you did it again. It was a while before you saw the man again, maybe part of you, that ever-present bit of self-preservation urged you to avoid him but he eventually found you again. This time you turned him down, and he hadn’t pressed, but he’d told others. Other men who seemed to sniff you out, some of them older, and less diplomatic and those you told to fuck off. Some of the younger ones though, closer to your age looking for the experience, some of them you took in, with the strict promise to never tell anyone unless they wanted to never see you again. Those experiences were better, less traumatic. 

After that it seemed like things came together, you had a steady string of people who took you seriously and paid up front. 

The first woman had been a girl of around your age, she’d heard from a friend of a friend, carefully and strategically keeping the source to herself. You’d never really given it much thought but once you did it seemed only natural, women got lonely too, and there was nothing about her that you didn’t understand. So you accepted her, took her rations and gave her as much of yourself as you gave the men. 

It’d taken time to establish yourself, to find the regular people you let into the circle, it was all much easier now. With the exception of Joel, you hadn’t taken on someone new in a while, but he made you glad you did.

-

His hands always shake before it starts. 

It’s a light tremble, a couple of fingers in his left hand and you aren’t entirely sure if it’s an injury, or a sign of nerves. He’s hard of hearing in one ear too, his right. You hadn't picked up on it at first but once you do, it makes sense. He tilts his head to the right a tiny bit, turning his good ear towards your mouth. It doesn’t bother you. 

He was older than the rest, that did bother him, but never enough to stop visiting. He dragged it out sometimes, made himself wait, avoided you, but whether it took him a week or a month, he came back. 

“Hi Joel.” You smiled to see him standing at the threshold, fingers twitching by his side, his hair a mess, a small bundle in his grip.

“Hi.” He doesn’t smile back, he’d waited too long, the frown practically tattooed on. He puts the bundle down on the dresser after kicking off his boots, and doesn’t mention it. 

It’s dark outside, later than you usually let anyone come see you but for him you make exceptions. His hands keep rubbing at his thighs, his eyes darting around, you let him settle for a moment, get his bearings before jumping into anything, it’s a dance and you both have your steps. 

“How do you want me?” You finally break the silence once he sits on the quilt. He looks up at you, but doesn’t answer right away, his eyes fall to your cleavage, then down to your waist where the robe is cinched, then further still to your hips. You move closer, until you stand between his spread thighs. 

“Hm? Wanna fuck me on my back? Or should I get on my hands and knees?” You thread your fingers through his hair, slicking it back as best you can, he shudders at your words and at the feeling of your hands on him, putting up his usual show of shame at being here with you, at being older. “Should I get on my knees right here and suck your cock?” His hands land on your hips, his face pressing against your sternum, robe parting enough for him to press his lips to the valley between your breasts.

“You’re too fuckin’ soft, way too fuckin’ pretty to be lettin’ me touch you.” He always does this, has to make it known that you shouldn’t let him do this, that he shouldn’t want you like this. It never stops him, he opens the robe and pushes it off to fall on the floor regardless of his words and moans into the skin of your breast where he nuzzles like a cat.

“Prettiest thing I ever saw.” His mouth laves at one pert nipple, then the other, leaving them hard and shiny when he trails his kisses down to your belly. 

All day you’ve thought about him here, getting to have him to yourself, opening you up and molding you to fit him like a glove, making you see stars like he always does. And all day you’ve felt that slow simmer of arousal, that steady ache to bloom and gape for him, both soft and obscene. The constant excitement of anticipation. His mouth on your nipples only served to turn it up to an inferno, turning you to liquid for him. 

“But I like when you touch me.” You scratch at his scalp, pressing his face into your skin, “I like it when you fuck me, you make it so good, much better than anyone else.” You flatter him, but you don’t lie to him. You’ve learned to be impartial to your experiences, sex is work. As fun as it can be with some of them, it’s all a means to an end, you need to eat and so you do what you have to do. You are also realistic about him, he is not your boyfriend, he’s not your partner, he barely gives you a second glance on the street but in here, he’s your favourite. He fits you better than anyone and anything, and as much as you hate to admit it, you need him as much as he needs you.

He takes in the words, believes them and relishes them. 

“How do you want me, Joel?” You pull his face up, bending down to kiss him before he can answer and his desperation comes through. His tongue is insistent, his kiss almost violent. 

“I want you here-“ he pats the bed, before getting up to take his clothes off. You help him, both of you working efficiently until he’s as naked as you are. His cock is already hard, the tip of him pearly with his own want despite any and all notions of impropriety. 

His body always betrays him. 

He gets you on your back, but he doesn’t lay on top of you, rather beside you. He doesn’t let you turn to face him, he wants it like this, his body curling around yours to be able to see it spread out for him without himself in the way. 

“Open up for me, s’good, just like that.” He takes the thigh closest to him and drapes it over his hip, positioning himself to enter you from underneath. He lifts his head, showcasing his core strength to watch as he brings his cock to the open mouth of your cunt, sliding in without so much as a warning. You feel exposed, spread open and bare under his eye and it only heightens the experience, cracking something open inside of you. 

His hips push and pull slowly, lazily at first despite how fucking hard he is but doesn’t last. The sight in front of you there, breasts bouncing with every snap, is too much for him. With one hand free, he strums and plucks at your nipples, opening up the dam between your thighs to ruin the quilt underneath. 

His other hand isn’t idle though, it slips down, grabbing onto the plush of your ass, holding you in place hard enough to bruise. 

“That feel good?” He watches you leak all over him, and knows it does but he wants to hear it anyway. 

“Yes- Yes Joel–” You moan, turning to watch his face. 

“This little cunt goin' to come for me? I wanna see her come, I wanna feel her choke my dick.” He surges forward, swallowing the moan from the source before speeding up. His cock strokes, strokes, strokes and you feel the warmth blooming in your core, spreading like a wildfire through your hips, the release so close you can almost taste it, you whine and he shushes you, his voice soft despite how depraved you feel with his cock kissing something sacred inside of you. 

You roll your hips to meet his thrusts and sweat builds in your hairline and at the back of your neck, collects and slips where your skin and his meet.

“I know baby, I know, I can feel her, she wants to come doesn’t she?” His lips press against your cheek, his words warm against your skin. His lips are so soft, so plush as he pants into your face, goosebumps cover your body. You nod against him, mouth open in a silent scream when he adjusts his angle slightly. 

He’s no longer able to form complete sentences, his words are reduced to a repeated chant of yeah baby, yeah baby, right there, right there huh? Barely formed questions for the answer you know he already knows and then his fingers are in your mouth, stretching out your lips, holding your mouth open in a filthy, yet pale imitation of what his cock is doing.

You drool, and you don’t care but it’s what he wants, he takes it from your mouth and slides it over your clit and it’s like he’s pressed the nuclear codes in your body. 

You want to curl into yourself, but you can’t, his grip tightens, painfully, holding you to take and take and take his cock until he bursts inside you like a ripe berry. His groan is almost more obscene than the act, his groin pressed up against you tight, pressing himself deeper than ever to paint your cervix in his come. 

“Fuck–” He presses the word to your cheek, sliding his sweat soaked face down your neck, to your shoulder. He pulls out after a moment, and you feel him leak out of you. He moves to hover over you, pulling one nipple into his mouth to taste before the blood has cooled, and then the other. He isn;t done yet though, he kneels between your spread legs, inspecting the mess he’s made of your pussy, a self satisfied look on his face. 

“Gonna dream about this, while I’m gone.” He lifts your legs, pressing them up and open and slips two fingers deep inside to push his come back in and as you moan at the act, you cannot help but wonder where that worried, too-old Joel is right now. 

“Prettiest little cunt.” He says it to himself, rubbing his mess into the sensitive walls of your sex like a balm. 

He licks his fingers after, tasting the combined flavours of both of you. Your heart almost can’t take it. 

Once he’s dressed, and you have gained enough strength to get up and put your robe on he’s almost back to his shy self. 

“I have the rations here, but I brought somethin’ else.” He gestures to the little bundle he’d left on your dresser, “I found it, thought you might like it.” He opens it, and it’s a can of peaches. 

“Oh!” You’re genuinely taken aback. 

“You ain’t allergic right?” He frowns, and you smile, something soft spreading through your chest that has nothing to do with the sex you just had.

“No, I’m not allergic. Thank you Joel, I am really excited for this.” You ignore the soreness between your legs and close the gap between you, pressing a soft kiss to his lips in thanks. 

“Well alright then.” He frowns again, and it’s not shyness you see on his face now, it’s awkwardness, it’s a man who doesn’t know how to be soft, but is trying his hardest. 

“Bye Pretty.” He lingers at the door, devouring you with his eyes and even though he was still dripping out of you, you felt naked and exposed, open and spread out for his gaze. 

“Bye Joel, don’t wait too long to come see me again okay?” You press yourself against him, the soft lines of you tucked tight against the hard angles of him. He gifts you with a rare smile but doesn’t respond, save for a toe curling kiss at your threshold before he’s gone. 

Hours later, when your body is truly sore and spent, you lay in bed with a book, eating the peaches he brought, and wonder idly what he’ll bring next time. 

-

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[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

OKAY I HAVE ONE MORE!! I just read the post you did where s/o got injured after getting in a fight, and I'd love to know how Jamil, Trey, Ruggie, Jade, and Deuce would react if their s/o tried to hide the fact they got hurt? Either because they didn't want to be a bother or because they knew the guys were busy and didn't want to add to their plate. Even going as far as avoiding them for a day or two while trying to (badly) nurse their wounds.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce can’t be entirely mad at you since that would be the same thing he would do. He wouldn’t want you to worry about him either, but now he sees how that can actually hurt more. You had never given him a reason to be dishonest before and he hoped you saw from his calm reaction that you didn’t have to fear confiding in him, either. He was here to be your support if you didn’t want his protection, he just needed you to at least let him in on what was happening. He’d stop anything to take care of you and he makes that clear, wearing an intense expression as he made you promise to tell him if you were hurt like this again.  

Jade Leech:

Jade could always smell blood in the water. While he allowed you to foolishly believe you were hiding your wounds from him, he was aware from the beginning that you were injured. If you were trying to hide it from him than he wasn’t going to point it out until he saw how far you were willing to go to keep your secret. It’s almost amusing that you’d rather be in pain rather than tell him you’re hurt but once your pain is too great to hide, he smoothly let you know he had a few nursing skills as he and Floyd used to play rough as children. He doesn’t ask how you got the wounds (he already knows) nor does he point out that he knew you hid it from him, simply smiling at you and knowing he had you sweating it out on whether you were going to confess or not.

Jamil Viper:

It feels a little like betrayal to Jamil. While he didn’t want the stress of having to care for your wounds thrust upon him (even if he’d do so anyway), he didn’t like that you apparently didn’t trust him enough to tell him. Had he done something to deserve you purposely keeping secrets from him? Your relationship had been tumultuous at first but he had thought you found a comfortable middle ground, where you were both content even if there was still more to learn about each other. He helped clean you up as he can’t help but call you out when you’re clearly in pain, scowling the entire time as he couldn’t bite back his anger at you hiding away your injuries from him. He was clearly hurt and told you to just tell him next time to save him the anxiety of thinking he did something wrong, as he could at least escort you to the nurse.

Ruggie Bucchi:

Ruggie sighed, wondering how you always managed to attract trouble to you.He doesn’t seem to take your you hiding your injury from him personally, saying he might’ve done the same as some things are just too mortifying to admit to. He grinned as he said he appreciated you not getting him into trouble with you, as he certainly got into more than enough with Leona and the others in Savanaclaw. Still, if you were hurt and needed someone to lean on you should come to him, as a wounded animal separated from the pack would get killed.  

Trey Clover:

Trey sighed, knowing it was partially his own fault as he piled his worries onto you without thinking of how you might view that. He dealt with the trouble he was handed because he knew how to, and while it was too much from time to time, you were hardly the cause of most of his troubles. He didn’t want you to hide something like an injury from him just because he seemed busy, even if he couldn’t help directly, he would have been able to get you the suitable treatment and check in on you later. You’re scolded directly and it leaves you worried he might be mad at you forever, since it was so rare to see him annoyed like this. Those thoughts end when you wake up the next morning with fresh baked goods and a note saying to text him when you finally awoke so he could check in on you.  

[roanniom]

mechanic eddie is so hot that id break my car on purpose to see him

The Tune-Up

Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, unprotected sex / PIV sex / semi-public sex, dry humping, really shitty and poorly research car mechanic details

So maybe you intentionally bought a clunker when your last car finally bit the dust. Maybe you found a perpetual lemon of a car that you positively knew would conk out on you every other week meaning you just happen to need to take it to the shop all the time. The shop with the hot mechanic who always has his greased up coveralls pulled down and tied around his waist, revealing the tattoos and muscle and sinew that you could look at for hours on end.

So what?

It's the fourth time this month that you have had to roll your hunk of junk into his garage, and you check your make up in the rear view mirror before hopping out, arranging your hand casually on your hip as you see him walking up, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Eddieeeee. It's making that clanking sound again," you call out in a sing-song voice. Eddie gives you a lopsided grin and sweeps his messy curls up into a ponytail, giving you the perfect view of his stretching pecs beneath his thin tank top.

"You know you don't have to keep abusing that poor car just to see me. You can just ask me out, sweetheart."

Your heartbeat leaps into your throat and your jaw trembles.

"I...that's...I..."

"I'm just messin' with you!" Eddie chuckles at your sudden speechlessness and grabs a wrench, kicking the creeper in front of him and flopping down on it to roll under your car on his back.

The moment he disappears you bite your lip to contain a groan. The man is just so fucking fine. You tilt your head to take in the flexing of his thighs - his lower half the only thing visible right now - under the material of his coveralls. Your appreciation is cut short, however, when he rolls out only a moment after.

“You’re staring, sweetheart,” he says with a cheeky grin, rolling back out from under your car but remaining on his back on the roller.

You look away abruptly at being caught.

“You know my car really does just suck and break and stuff,” you argue lamely in answer to his earlier question. Eddie barks out a laugh and rests his arms behind his head so he can relax there while staying reclined and looking up at you. It gives him a perfect vantage point up your skirt, but he keeps his eyes trained on your face.

“How do you know I don’t keep rigging it to break myself so you have to keep coming back here?” Eddie says in a lilting tease. Your gaze snaps back to him and he raises his eyebrows in a challenge. You feel your entire body come alive at the implication of his statement but try to calm your heart beat by remembering that he's always this flirty.

"Oh yeah? Angling for more chocolate chip cookies there, Munson?" you ask, referring to the fact that you'd brought him cookies as an additional tip during the last few tune ups. Eddie licks his lips and looks you up and down slowly in a way that has your stomach flipping. It's almost like he's considering something. His smile is large when it seems like he's made his decision.

"Angling for a kiss is more like it."

Blood rushes to your ears. If he said anything else, you wouldn't be able to hear it because suddenly you're feeling like you're going to pass out and your vision narrows to the point that he's the only thing you can see.

It's late in the day on a Friday and Eddie's the only one in the shop for closing. You know that. It's why you come on those days in particular, to ensure you get him all on your own. The garage door is open to an empty street that's far enough off the beaten path that you don't think any passersby will be ambling around anytime soon.

So you drop your bag, inhale sharply to hold your breath, and step forward so that you stand with your feet planted on either side of his stretched out legs. Eddie's smile widens with surprise that you've actually taken the bait, but his eyes widen even more when you drop down to straddle his lap.

He'd expected you, at most, to kneel down beside him and playfully peck his cheek. Worst case scenario you'd tell him off for his cheekiness.

But here you are, skirt fanned out around to obscure the fact that you are now pelvis to pelvis. You drop your hands to his chest, fisting fingers in his dirty tank top over the knot of his coverall arms tied at his waist.

"Do you want payment before services or after?" you ask, voice surprisingly steady in spite of the rush of nerves and excitement coursing through your veins. Eddie looks dumbfounded for only a split second before the cocky attitude is back. His hands find your thighs and grip you, holding you down against the most intimate part of him.

"How 'bout a down payment to start with?" he asks, sliding his hands up your hips and to your waist, most likely leaving the material smudged with grease. You don't care at all, of course. He could cover your whole body in grease if it meant you got to feel his hands on you everywhere.

So you lean down and bring your lips to his. Your initial intent is a quick peck. But after your mouths meet, Eddie's lips part to let out a sinful moan and suddenly one of his hands is cupping the back of your neck to keep you down on top of him. The peck becomes a kiss, and even that morphs into something a lot more dirty and a lot less dignified.

Not that there's anything dignified about straddling your mechanic in the first place.

"Wow. I never want another fucking chocolate chip cookie ever again," Eddie grunts against your neck once he's pulled away to give you a chance to breathe. You giggle but it turns into a moan as he proceeds to immediately suck a hickie into the skin of your throat.

"I'm glad this form of payment works - ah! Works for you!" you say breathlessly as he moves his lips up to drag and suck at the spot behind your ear. His hands grip your waist so tightly that you feel yourself sinking against him as snug as you can get, the pulse between your legs becoming more and more insistent.

"I'm sorry, but your cash is no longer any good here, baby," Eddie rumbles into your skin and all the laughter stops because in that moment you feel the heat emanating from yourself and from him and that is the exact second that you feel his hardness nudging against you.

You pull back to make eye contact, find him glassy eyed and kiss bitten and rumpled staring back up at you.

"Well I guess we can get that figured out when you finish the job," you whisper, experimentally swirling your hips. Eddie's feet plant more firmly on the floor to keep the motion from pushing the roller, and his now bent thighs create a slope that causes you to slide further down and into his crotch. You both groan collectively at the increased contact.

"I already finished actually. So we can discuss payment now," Eddie says, leaning up and capturing your lips again. You pull back a second later, however, when his words finally register.

"What do you mean you already finished?"

"I just had to tighten a bolt," Eddie says with a grin, lifting up the wrench he had abandoned at his side the moment you'd dropped down on him. Your eyes narrow and your heart skips a beat at the implication.

"How did you know that's all that needed to be done?"

Eddie's grin becomes sheepish, as you anticipated. He drops the wrench back on the ground and rubs the back of his neck.

"I might have....uh....left it a little loose after your last visit. Just to make sure you'd....you know. Brighten this shop up again soon."

You try your best to hide the massive smile threatening to burst out on your face. But you make sure to ask the first question on your mind.

"My car couldn't have, like, fallen apart on the highway or anything with that bolt loose could - ,"

"Oh fuck no!" Eddie cuts you off, gripping at your waist suddenly with how fervent he is in his need to assure you. "I would never have let you drive it if it was dangerous." He averts his eyes before looking back at you with humor sparkling in them. "Now did I want it to make a harmless loud noise so suspicious you had to come back in? Yes."

"Shame on you," you cry out without any malice behind the words at all. In fact, you're laughing and leaning down to kiss him again. Your eagerness causes you to rock up against him and before long, the two of you are back at it hot and heavy.

"Hey," Eddie says, attempting to pull back after a while. You, however, are the one to blaze a trail of kisses down his neck this time. He sucks in a breath and continues. "Hey. I get off in about a half an hour."

"Don't want to wait that long for you to get off. Want it to happen right now," you whisper in his ear before sucking his ear lobe into your mouth. Eddie's eyes roll so far back into his head at the action and the innuendo and you feel his hard cock positively jump against you.

"Can't do this while I'm working, baby," Eddie groans, though his hands actively contradict his words by gripping your hips and encouraging them to continue moving against him.

"Isn't my car the last one for the day?" you ask innocently. As if you aren't grinding your clothed pussy all over his erection out in the open in his place of business with the garage door open and the sun still out. "And you did such a good job fixing it."

"Holy fuck..." Eddie breathes. He had been the confident one. He had been the forward one. He's not sure when the dynamic shifted but dear fucking god he's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He does still try his best to at least attempt to be a gentleman, though.

"But I'll get you all dirty. Don't wanna ruin your pretty clothes." Eddie says this while biting his lip and sliding his hands down to squeeze at your ass. It makes you gasp and push down against him even harder, exactly as he'd hoped.

"I don't believe you," you breathe. Eddie captures your mouth in another kiss before shaking his head, distracted.

"What don't you believe?"

"I don't believe that you don't want to ruin my clothes. I think you want to get me all dirty," you challenge. Eddie lifts his hand to your face and holds your chin suddenly between his thumb and index finger, staring deeply into your eyes.

"You're a tease and I love it, sweetheart," he says with a chuckle that makes you preen. "But I need to know...what do you actually want right now?"

"You," you say, not even skipping a beat. Eddie's eyes become serious.

"How...how much of me are we talkin'?"

"All of it," you say, your grin spreading.

"Mother of fucking Christ," Eddie grits out before holding onto you tight and pushing off with his feet, rolling the two of you further behind his work bench, effectively shielding you from the outside world. You squeal at the sudden motion and cling to him, so he uses that to his advantage, attaching his lips to your pulse point. One particularly generous suck to your juggular has you keening and bucking down against him, much to his insane pleasure.

"Oh god. Eddie," you gasp. Eddie closes his eyes and furrows his brow.

"Yeah. Say my name again. Please." He attempts to soften the command with the nicety but you would have screamed his name for much less. You sit up more fully in his lap and help him untie the knotted arms of his coveralls, unzipping the last part of them and exposing the tented front of his boxers. He'd felt huge but he looks even bigger.

"Eddie," you whisper, making eye contact before rubbing your hand over his clothed length. His brow furrows even deeper and you could laugh but you don't. Just like you don't continue to tease him because you're teased out yourself. You need him inside you, like, yesterday. So you pull his boxers down and ogle the length and width of him. Everything you could want him to be.

"Can you...you wanna even the playing field here, sweetheart?" Eddie asks with a silly grin that knocks the wind out of you. You nod without even stopping to get too self conscious, swiftly unbuttoning your blouse and letting the two sides hang open, revealing your bra-clad breasts. Eddie groans like he'd been punched.

"You're a fucking goddess, are you fucking kidding me?" he says, as if you've personally offended him. You chuckle at that.

"I think the exhaust fumes in here have messed with your brain, Munson."

Eddie simply snaps the front clasp of your bra, releasing your breasts to that they fall out with a bounce. Eddie moans like a wounded animal.

"Exhaust fumes my ass. You are unbelievable." His hands immediately close around you, squeezing and weighing. "These tits are magnificent."

You scoff at his word choice.

"You're ridiculous," you try to dismiss him, but his fingers playing with your nipple makes it hard to concentrate on any emotion other than lust. You begin gyrating your hips in search of friction, the hood of your mound pressing up against his erection and creating much needed pressure, even through your clothes.

"No, you're ridiculous trying to pretend like you can wait for this dick," Eddie mocks you, noticing exactly what you're doing. You look at him, biting on the inside of your cheek.

"As if you aren't the one making me wait," you toss back. Eddie's eyebrows raise in a challenge.

"You're the one on top, princess."

You huff and immediately lift yourself up, dropping back down over him so that your skirt obscures his view. But Eddie doesn't need to see in order to feel the tightness of you lowering yourself down onto him.

"Holy fucking - ,"

"Shit!" you interrupt him with your own cry. While you're certainly turned on, it was absolutely absurd for you to try and fit him in without any preparation. Eddie is bigger than anyone you've been with before and he's instantly deeper than you knew was possible, thanks to gravity.

"Fuck, that too much, baby?" Eddie asks, immediately alert and clutching your hips, attempting to keep you balanced above him before your pelvises can meet fully. Fuuuck, he's not even all the way in!

"J-just.....oh god. You're just really big," you whimper. Eddie makes to pull you off him but you dig your fingernails into his arms. "No don't want to get off just - ah. I need a minute. Need to...oh."

You're entire body begins trembling when Eddie's finger begins rubbing circles into your clit. You shudder and then feel yourself sink down a little further on his cock. The attention to your sensitive clit has your thighs widening, your muscles relaxing and your pussy becoming wetter by the second.

"Relax. Mmmm there it is, good girl."

His words practically do more than the finger on your clit and you arch into him, rocking against him shallowly.

After another few minutes of these ministrations, you finally feel yourself growing impatient and increasingly turned on. Experimentally you lift up with your thigh, rising till only his tip is inside you, before sinking back down slowly. Your breath is punched out of you with a hiss, but another moment passes and soon you're able to do it again, faster this time. Eventually you work yourself up to a rhythm, bouncing yourself up and down his cock while his face screws up and his fingers dig into your thighs.

"Wanted this for a long time, princess," Eddie grunts out. "Every time you came in I imagined bending you over that hunk of junk you call a car and fucking you till you couldn't walk."

You gasp at his dirty admission and, feeling emboldened by his honesty, decide to be honest yourself.

"I always wanted you to take me in the backseat and fuck me," you whine. Eddie bucks up into you, the drastic motion causing you to both shift back and forth due to the rocking of the roller you're still precariously perched on.

"We're doing this again, you know," Eddie says matter-of-factly. You must look confused by his words because he continues on fervently. "I may have pictured you with this car, but I'm fucking you in a bed next time," he insists. "Okay maybe a kitchen counter if we can't make it to the bedroom, but either way you deserve a room with a closed door."

You laugh at his words, clenching internally and causing him to moan in the process. You're quickly brought back from humor to urgency when you feel his finger on your clit again.

"Yeah. Yeah we're doing this again," you practically hiccup.

Eddie pulls you down on top of him so that he can lick and nip at your neck, his hand still sandwiched between the two of you.

"Listen to the greedy girl. Already thinking of the next time I'll be inside her."

"You're the one who brought up the subject of a next time!" you accuse, but you lose your bite the second he bites into the side of your throat. He soothes the spot with a lave of his tongue.

"Cum on me, baby, and we can get to that next time sooner."

When you cum, only moments later, your cry echoes throughout the garage. The reverberating sound comes back to your ears and shocks you enough that you almost fall out of your ascending headspace, but Eddie's grunts in your ear and fingers digging into your skin block it all out and keep you grounded to him. This allows you to enjoy your orgasm and even benefit from aftershocks as he takes over and plows up into you, chasing his own release. His haphazard thrusts cause the two of you to roll back and forth on the roller. You cling to him to stay stable with all the movement, and your sudden tensing has you clenching around him so tight he has no time to warn you of his impending orgasm. He just calls out your name and drives his cock deep inside you, spilling out into with sputtering hips.

It takes a while for the proverbial dust to settle. Eddie's hand on your back is soothing, but you quickly realize that your thighs are over extended and your body aches from the strenuousness of your sexual activity.

"Easy there, princess," Eddie coos. He helps you up, his cock sliding out of you with the movement. Like a gentleman he slides your panties back over your dripping slit, patting the wet spot fondly, before dropping the hem of your skirt and shifting to guide you up.

You wobble on embarrassingly unstable legs.

"Jesus christ, what did you do to me?" you huff. Eddie encircles you in his arms and lets out a bark of a laugh.

"What did I do?! How is it that you never fully realized that you were on top?" he asks, echoing his previous sentiments. You help him pull his coveralls up to tie at his waist again and he graciously helps button you back into your blouse.

"Well next time I want you to do all the work," you respond cheekily. Eddie's eyes spring back to yours and for a moment you hesitate, wondering if his earlier words were simply born of the heat of the moment. But Eddie's looking at you like you hung the fucking mood and suddenly he's kissing you. Bold and ardently and with a lot of tongue that says everything he wishes to say to you simply with the press of wet muscle to wet muscle.

When he pulls away his lips are shiny and bruised and you're out of breath. He gives you a lopsided smile and scrunches his nose.

"Next time do I still have to fix your car, or -?"

You slap him on the chest and pull him back in for another kiss.

~*~

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Hoping tumblr doesn't cut off the actual end of the story!

[moonstruckme]

i'm obsesseeeed with dr. rem and i have a request for him if you're up for it!! <33 maybe reader gets into an "accident" (nothing serious) while working and remus finds out when he sees her in the hospital? like she didn't have time to call him and let him know so he suddenly just sees her and freaks out for a bit before realizing she's okay? thank you so muchhhh 💗

I'm obsessed with him toooo it's bad ! Thanks for requesting sweetheart <3

cw: minor head injury

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Your eyes water, but you do your best to keep them open as the girl in scrubs points her light in each one. 

“Your pupils look alright,” she decides, clicking the light off and giving you an apologetic smile when you blink in relief. “Have you felt nauseous at any point since it’s happened? Dizzy?” 

You shake your head no to both, wincing a bit as the clear bag of ice you’re holding to the back shifts slightly. 

“That’s good.” She nods encouragingly. She seems young and somewhat green, probably one of those pesky residents Remus is always griping about. Though she’s trying to project the same seasoned calm as the other doctors and nurses moving about the A&E, there’s a quiet anxiety about her that you recognize. It’s the same one you carried during the first month at your job, the possibility of getting in some kind of trouble seeming to loom over you constantly. She’s pretty, you think, and she seems nice. Like she genuinely cares, a massive improvement over the woman at the front desk who’d given you a look so judgemental that it’d made you feel even more embarrassed for being here. “And you’re sure you didn’t lose consciousness at any point? Even for a second?”

“I don’t think so,” you say. “I mean, I would have noticed, right?” 

She squints like she’s not quite sure what to do with that, and then you perk up as a familiar rhythm gets your attention. You wouldn’t have guessed you could do it outside of your shared flat, but you pick out the sound of Remus’ footfalls a second before he comes into view. He’s striding briskly across the room, skimming something on his clipboard, and he gives the swath of curtained rooms little more than a cursory glance as he passes—until his eyes flare, snagging on you.

You raise your hand in a sorry wave. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, doubling his pace to get to you. His attention moves to the bag of ice you’re holding to your head. “You’re hurt?”

“I bumped my head at work,” you explain with a shrug. The resident looks between you like she’s unsure if she should continue, clearly outranked by the other doctor in your little room. “It’s not bad, but my boss said I had to come here.” 

Remus’ lips tug downward, taking the ice from you and tilting your head so he can see it. “You hit your head and you didn’t call me?” 

“It’s nothing,” you promise him. “My boss just made me come in as a formality. For liability reasons, you know?” 

Remus remains uncomforted. He murmurs a quiet direction to the resident so the poor girl steps back from you. You shoot her an apologetic look as your boyfriend takes your head in both hands, prodding at the tender spot on the back. You wince, and he makes a very unprofessional cooing sound, stroking his thumb next to the nonexistent wound. 

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.” Even his dubious tone is gentled for you, the pinch of his mouth more worried than vexed. 

“It hurts,” you admit, “but only like any bruise would. It didn’t even break the skin, Rem, I’m totally fine.” 

He looks at the resident. “Any symptoms of a concussion?” 

“No,” the girl chirps nervously. You wonder that anyone could be nervous around Remus, but you suppose he is sort of like one of her bosses. “Pupils are normal, no dizziness or headaches, no reactions to light or noise, and no signs of confusion.” 

He nods, still frowny. You think he could stand to show her some appreciation, but this may not be the time to bring it up. “Alright, you can go. I’ve got this one.” 

“Thank you,” you say after her, and she flashes you a tiny smile before Remus eclipses your vision, taking your face in his hand. 

“You were fully honest, right?” he asks you sternly. “Didn’t downplay anything?” 

“I didn’t.” You summon your most placating tone, reaching up to wrap your fingers around his wrist. “I’m really fine.” You rub your thumb into his pulse point. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, everything was just moving so quickly. I wouldn’t have tried to keep it a secret or anything.” 

Remus lets out a long exhale, leaning forward so that his nose rests on your forehead. “I know you wouldn’t,” he murmurs. “But do you have any idea how scary it is to see someone you love in A&E, where you work, when you thought they were just going about their day unharmed?” 

Your heart contracts as the severity drains from his tone, replaced by a dull rawness. “I don’t.” You slide your touch up his arm to his bicep, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry. But I am unharmed, see? It’s all good.” 

He grunts fondly, kissing your forehead as he straightens. “Who drove you here?” 

“Marcus.” You’ll have to make your coworker some cookies or something as a thank-you gift, though you’re sure getting a half hour off work to chauffeur you here wasn’t an entirely unwelcome break. 

“And where is he?” 

“Back at work. He dropped me off.” 

Remus brow puckers. “He left you here?” 

“Well, it wasn’t like there was anything he could do,” you say, shrugging. You feel a bit sheepish, though you’re not sure why. 

“Still.” His jaw ticks. “Okay, I get off in less than an hour. Do you think you can sit tight until then? I’ll have someone bring you some fresh ice.” He levels your sloshy bag of ice with a disapproving look you want nothing to do with. “And did you eat lunch before your shift?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you say. “But I don’t need you to drive me home, Rem. There’s a bus stop right outside of here.” 

He scoffs. “I don’t care if you don’t have a concussion, I’m not letting you take the bus after you’ve just hit your head.” He squeezes your shoulder, thumb pressing into your collarbone. “I’ll have someone bring you a snack.” 

“It’s just a bump,” you argue, but Remus ignores you. 

“Try to leave, and I’ll be very cross with you,” he threatens as he walks away. “Cuddles are a privilege that can be revoked.” 

[ameliathornromance]

He first saw you picking flowers.

The Orc was on a walk through the town centre, heading towards the beach. It was too nice a day to be staying inside, baking in the heat and becoming one with his leather sofa. If he must melt into a large green puddle, he will do it at the beach.

As he strolled through the town centre, he admired the impeccably kept gardens of lush grass, bright red roses, purple and pink lilies. And amongst the colour, was you.

The Orc stopped in his tracks, watched you working, trimming away at dead flower heads and picking off wilting leaves. This was the first time he’d ever seen someone take care of the gardens.

The peaceful smile, combined with the delicate way you picked the flowers enraptured him with a kind of calm that he hadn’t felt in years.

You just looked so content, so natural to be surrounded by the bushes, as if you were a deer drinking water from a still lake.

Feeling eyes on you, you looked around to see the source of your discomfort. Locking eyes with the Orc, he flinched, “s-sorry.” He apologised, looking away from you. “I didn’t mean to stare.” He must have looked really creepy to be watching someone so intently.

You smiled at him. “It’s okay, it’s not a normal sight.” Tucking the flowers into the crook of your arm, you stood and made your way over to him. “I mean, it’s not often you see someone raiding a public garden for flowers, right?” You let out an awkward chuckle.

The Orc nodded in agreement, reflecting your awkwardness. “Yeah, I guess not.”

Silence sat between the two of you for a moment. “I’m technically not allowed to be picking them.” You said, after a moment. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything.”

Smiling, the Orc assured you, “I won’t tell a soul.”

From that point onward, he made it a point to go and see you at the gardens every day. It was such a rarity to see someone be so happy in their own company, doing their own thing.

He didn’t like to just watch you though, he always made conversation with you. The last thing the Orc wanted was to make you uncomfortable. It would look to other people, a lone Orc, sat on a bench while a pretty young lady tends to the flowers in the public garden.

Through your talks, he learned that you actually work for the local council and take care of the garden every day… while taking some of the flowers home for your own viewing. “I mean, I tend to them, I should at least be allowed to take some home, right?” You told him.

The Orc had nodded absent-mindedly in agreement. You were just so passionate about your job, the delight and excitement you had on your face when he asked you botanical questions made his stomach bubble.

You never acted annoyed by him, laughed at his jokes and even invited him to come and help you with your work. Whenever he had questions, you answered them without judgement and with such zeal.

After spending his days with you, he’d return home, the world seemed… dull. Without all the brightly coloured flowers around and your glowing prescence, he sometimes wondered if it had always been this way to him. He then realised it hadn’t, because you lit up the world.

The Orc pondered on how best to tell you about his feelings. There was a part of him that worried you were only nice to him to… be nice to him. But it wouldn’t hurt to tell you how he felt… would it? It’s not like you were ever nasty or cold to him, so there had to be a chance for him, right?

He thought how best to tell you: Box of chocolate? No, too stereotypical. Just asking you out to dinner? That’s way too basic, and then you might think he wants something else.

He didn’t need to worry about that for long however, one hot summer day, you asked him:

“Did you know that the Victorians used to have a language for flowers?”

“No, I did not.” The Orc answered. He was sat beside you this time, holding up a Rose bush so you could reach the thorns at the roots of the plant.

“They used to use it to tell other people things,” you said as you snipped off the sharp edges. “Like, if you wanted to tell someone you loved them, you’d bring them honeysuckle and roses.”

“Huh.” He said, thoughtfully. He was silent for a moment, thinking on what you’d said.

This was it. That’s how he’d tell you he liked you, through Honeysuckle and Roses.

Once back at home, he jumped on his laptop and researched. The next morning, he went to three different florists, and got what he needed.

While in his car, the Orc did his best to rearrange the flowers in an attractive manner. After adjusting them five or six times, he sighed. The Orc still had his reservations. Of course he was nervous, he hadn’t told anyone he liked them since… Wait, had he ever even liked anyone this much?

He shook his head. “Just have to tell her,” he muttered to himself as he stepped out of the car. As he made his way through the garden, picking and making final changes to the bouquet in his hands, he looked up and stopped dead in his tracks.

You stood at the edge of the garden, talking to a human man. You held a strong scowl at the man, who jabbed and pointed a finger at you, similarly angry with you.

The Orc hung back, watching the altercation unfold.

Finally, the man sighed, and raised his hand to your cheek, like he was going to cup it. But before he could, you raised a hand and slapped him hard across the face.

The man let out a shout, grabbed at your wrist and yanked. You jerked forward.

Within seconds, the Orc was by your side and caught you around the waist with a free arm. He glowered down at the pathetic man, “what’s going on here?” He growled.

The man let go of your arm. “It’s none of your business, I was just having a conversation with the woman here.” The man glared at your Orc. “This hasn’t got anything to do with you.”

“It is, actually.” The Orc hissed.

“How so? You’re just some random-”

“I’m her boyfriend, actually.”

The moment the words escaped him, the Orc wanted to clamp a hand over his mouth, to take back the words and hide them away.

His realisation of horror thankfully, hadn’t shown on his face.

The human man flinched. “Oh…” He said. His tone low, “sorry, I didn’t know…” And with that, he turned away and stalked off.

Huffing, the Orc turned to you. “Are you alright?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed. “He didn’t hurt you did he?”

You shook your head, “no, I’m fine… He was just some creep who wanted my socials. That’s all.”

Your Orc friend let out a sigh, “I… I’m sorry I said that. The boyfriend thing…” The bouquet of flowers were still clutched in his hands, petals wilted slightly from the unpleasantness.

He probably really lost any chance now, just announcing that? To a park full of people? He wouldn’t be surprised if you just stopped talking to him entirely.

“It’s okay… I liked the title, actually.” Your words came out small, mumbled. But to the Orc, they were like the clang of a church bell. His stomach somersaulted, his heart thumped hard in his chest, eyes widened.

“I was hoping that you would ask me out at some point… otherwise I would have asked you myself today.” You gave a cheery, but abashed smile.

Clearing his throat, face burning, the Orc held the flowers out to you, “I still can.” He smiled, hands shaking, “would you like to go out with me?”

You bit your lip, taking the flowers from him. “I’d like that.”

Patreon

[mountainficss]

hii! we've seen pervy best friend wonu, but what about pervy best friend vernon? i just feel like he'd act sooo pathetic it's driving me insane 🫡 (also, your works are awesomely written and I just wanted to wish you good luck on your finals!)

!! mentions of: masturbation

oh vernon would be the cutest pervy best friend :( i love that idea so much. and thank you so much for your kind words and good wishes! (i’m sorry i’m posting this wayyy past finals, but thank you very much for wishing me good luck! i appreciate that so much <3)

pervybestfriend!vernon who would be shockingly good at hiding his perverted feelings about you. vernon would be a very nonchalant, easygoing friend, and you’d always come to him if you needed company. you loved how relaxed vernon was, and you felt like he was a much needed calm constant in your ever-changing life. you’d enjoy dragging him out to your favorite places, whether it be the art museum or the bowling alley, and vernon would always tag along with little to no complaints. you’d cling to his arm when you walk next to him, and you’d frequently wear his jackets when you’re feeling cold. to any outsider, it would seem like you and vernon were dating. you’d spend so much time with each other that others are shocked to hear that you’re not together. you’d shut them down though, claiming that vernon was your best friend and that he’d never be into dating you. you’re the sole definition of oblivious, but how would you possibly know when he hides it so well?

how would you know that vernon thinks about you 25/8 when he’s so impassive? how would you know that vernon is in love with the sight of you in his clothes when he barely glances at you? how would you know that vernon has the dirtiest thoughts about you when he treats you like a friend? you’d be completely unaware, and vernon would secretly be thankful for your ignorance. you didn’t need to know about all the nasty things he imagined the two of you doing together.

it wouldn’t take much from you to turn vernon on. you’d often sit on his lap when the both of you watched movies, and just the pressure from you sitting on his half hard erection would easily rile him up. you never seemed to notice though, and if you did you never made a comment about vernon’s length practically poking at your ass. he’d always enjoy when you sat on his lap, or when you were near him in general. your faint perfume would tickle his nose, and the smell would make him feel pleasantly lightheaded. he would never be able to focus on the movie for too long; he’d be too engrossed in your scent wafting in his nose and your thighs squishing against his.

vernon would also frequently stalk your social media accounts, admiring all of the pretty pictures of you that you had posted. he’d looked through them a million times already, but he could never get tired of seeing you (and the view your low cut shirts + high camera angle gave him, but that’s not the point). every time you’d post a picture, you’d always ask him if he liked your post. he’d just roll his eyes at you, tilting his phone towards you and showing you his like as proof. “you always ask me that. if i see your account i automatically like the picture.” he’d shrug nonchalantly, and you’d give him a small pout. “yeah, but did you even look at it?” you’d whine, looking down at your phone and pulling up the post too. he’d just scoff, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “what, do you want me to study it or something? i see you almost every day, i don’t have to stare at your pictures when i can just come see you.” he’d state simply, reaching a hand to your head and ruffling your hair when you sigh loudly at him.

but oh he does stare at your pictures. despite all his eye rolls and smart remarks, he’d live for when you post. now he has something to fuel his perverted fantasies when he’s alone in his room at night :) he’d lay with his phone in his hand, eyes glued to the pretty picture you just recently posted. the other hand would be beneath his boxers, fisting at his aching erection. this seemed to be a routine for vernon; jerking off to your pictures every night and cumming inside his boxers was the norm for him. how could he help it when you’re just so attractive?

one night he would settle into his bed, phone in hand to pull up your account for the umpteenth time today, and he’d notice something in his peripheral. the jacket you wore today, his jacket, was draped over his desk chair. you must have placed it there before you left his apartment earlier, and that perverted voice in his head reminded him that it must smell like you. he’d hesitate for a moment, thinking about how immoral this was, but he’d quickly ignore his morals in the moment. he was already jerking off to your pictures every night; why hold back now? he’d snatch the jacket off of his chair, hopping back into his bed with the clothing clenched in his fist. he’d hold the fabric up to his nose, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent. he was overwhelmed with the smell of your perfume, groaning quietly as he snaked his free hand down his boxers. he didn’t even need to look at your pictures this time, the scent of you on his clothes alone was enough to spur him on. his cock was already twitching with need, the tip leaking precum as he dragged his thumb over his slit. he’d let out muffled moans and whimpers into his jacket, eyes rolling back at the pleasure. it wouldn’t take him long to reach his climax with your scent surrounding him, and he’d cum into his hand with a loud whine into the fabric. all he could think about was you, and he’d wish that it was your hand on his cock instead.

he’d bring you clothes to wear more often after that night, and he’d anticipate the moment you’d give the clothes back to him. every article you give back would be a new piece of material for his late night sessions, and you’d do nothing but encourage this behavior unknowingly. you’d be completely oblivious when it came to his perverted tendencies, just happy to wear vernon’s comfortable baggy clothes <3

taglist: @jeonghanpill , @bangantokchy , @caratboy , @bewoyewo , @luvseungcheol , @wonvsmile , @haolovre , @aaniag , @writingbarnes , @dokyeomkyeom , @allieyaaa

[urfavlarry]

heyyy could you please write a joost x fem! reader fic where the reader too is slightly famous, and she and joost have been SECRETLY dating for a year but no one knew it, so it comes as a big shock to everyone when they find out through either a paparazzi or leaked photo online or through an accidental giveaway of it during an interview <33

Red handed

Joost Klein x fem!reader

A/N: istg this is so bad but I hope you like this lmao and sorry if its short :,)

warnings: swearing, not proof read

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You scrolled through your phone, eyes wide and millions of thoughts were going through your head. You and Joost were currently miles apart, you having to leave for a family vacation you looked forward to the whole year. Joost like the gentleman he was accompanied you to the airport, helping you with everything and chatting with your family. When the time of the departure came, Joost pulled you into one last embrace before going your own ways. The first few days were wonderful. You enjoyed yourself on the beach, some fans recognising you which made you so so happy to be known all over the world. Like I said before, you were having a wonderful time until now. You stumbled upon a photo that was shared by an unknown user, already having thousands of views of you and Joost at the airport. You never really experienced paparazzi, only a small amount but not to the point people leaked photos of you when you were just walking across the street to the grocery store like they do to some celebrities.

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user77220096543

@user77220096543

Joost Klein and Y/N L/N at the Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam this Monday morning.

Liked by loverboyz, y/n4life and 89,689 others

@user74320531 and 76.5K others commented

user555: new ship?

maxxinerivera: yall are some stalkers let them live tf

joostkleinswife: joost can do better then that

╰┈➤ midnightsxlover replied to joostkleinswife: too real

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Joost knew about the photo, already messaging you if you’re okay, reassuring you everything will be okay and that you would work things out. It wouldn’t even bother you that people knew about your relationship, you weren’t ashamed of Joost and would show him off proudly but some fans were too much to handle. Most people sent the both of you death threats but you chose to ignore them. Why should they decide who you love?

After getting back home to The Netherlands you got greeted by Joost waiting for you, the place being crowded from all the crazy fan girls trying to take photos of you two together or yell congratulating and kinds things to you which you dearly appreciated. It was something you expected, you were bound to get caught someday and it was really a miracle you kept it a secret for a little over a year. Joost picked you up and spinned you around, kissing you on the forehead making all the fans cheer. Your face felt hot, holding onto Joosts hand which he gladly squeezed as reassurance. The both of you walked out of the airport hand in hand Joost getting in to the taxi with you and went to your shared home.

It felt nice to be home, calming even. Joost picked you up making you wrap your legs around his waist, walking with you to your bedroom. He layed you down gently before getting on top of you, caging you with his weight. “Joost.. come on I didn’t even unpack.” “That can wait, are you okay tho? With all those people knowing about us?” You thought about it for a few minutes, your hand in Joosts soft blonde hair. You shrugged slightly, making Joost look up at you. “If anyone is bothering you I have no problem speaking up about it. You know I love you with my whole heart mijn liefde.” (my love) “I know, I know. It’s just a bit overwhelming but I expected it to happen some day I mean the media is crazy soo.. I’m okay with people knowing.” Joost smiled lovingly at you, kissing your cheek, then mouth. The kiss was quick but sweet, making your stomach erupt with butterflies and cheeks feel hot. You stare at his adorable face, his soft smile making your day a hundred times better like it usually did.

You went on to show each other off, Joost always having a hand on your waist or even just holding onto your arm like a lost child meanwhile you posted things with you two together happily, showing up at his concerts more often sometimes singing your own songs to open up Joosts concerts which you loved doing. People saw you guys as THE couple, everyone cheering, clapping, yelling during concerts when you ended the concert with one last bow and hug with your partner. It truly made you happy how people supported you through and through, some defending you when you got hate online which you after some time chose to ignore. Joost was more than happy to bring you to every event possible, even when he got to perform for Eurovision that same year, you were there for every pre-party and after-party, performance ect. even after his disqualification you never left his side.

Now you were on one of your friends tour, Bambie to be exact as an opener along with Joost. It was fun, the atmosphere being a lot different from your usual concerts which you welcomed with open arms. At the end of the concert the crowd screamed for more, so all you three looked at each other with smirks, performing a song you three worked on just a few months back. It had a mix of all your three singing styles you and Joost popping in a few phrases in your mother tongue. It made the crowd cheer, some booing which was expected but you didn’t care, having fun with your favourite people. At the end of the show, you looked at the crowd, realisation hitting you of how many people you influenced and how many people supported you. Joost grabbed your waist, kissing you on the cheek while Bambie started clapping making the crowd do the same. Maybe putting yourself out there wasn’t so bad after all.

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[fabled-fiction]

i see you write for hobie brown omg i like audibly giggled when i read that 😭 i’m so excited he’s finally getting his recognition !!

if you write for him, maybe some relationship hcs?? (gn reader would be perfect!) bonus points if reader and hobie are around the same height

tysm!!

Hobie Brown Relationship Headcanons

Summary: Headcanons for Hobie Brown in a relationship. From PDA to your private moments to how he acts when you aren’t around

Word Count: 961

Warnings: Talk of injury, POSSIBLE SPIDERMAN ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE SPOILERS (I’m just putting this here to be careful)

A/N: I hope this is good!! I wanted to include bits and pieces of what I thought could be a glimpse into some of the softer parts of Hobie!!

🕷️ First of all, this man is a charmer

🕷️ One of his love languages is words of affirmation and trust me this man is always finding ways to compliment any and every part of you

🕷️ His goal is to show how much he appreciates you…but also he just loves seeing how hot your face can get. How flustered he can make you.

🕷️ He gets a confidence boost everytime ngl

🕷️ Especially in public.

🕷️ “Aye, ‘ow good does (Y/N) look?”

🕷️ Once you’re settled into the relationship he will never call you by your name-atleast not fully

🕷️ He expects the same. Call him Hobart and he will be visually confused and apauled

🕷️ “ Im sorry, who? I dont see a ‘obart in the room wif us.”

🕷️ Its always nicknames of your name.

🕷️ His go to pet name is “babes”

🕷️ On a seperate note, Quality time is also a super big thing whenever you get together

🕷️ Cause sometimes he’ll feel bad that his time is essentially split into thirds. Between being Spiderman on his Earth, a part of the Spider Society, and his time as Hobie Brown

🕷️ So he finds any and every opportunity to just soak you in

🕷️ Obviously you have the swing dates. Where he’ll usually take you to the top of whatever building has the best view for the night and have a picnic

🕷️ But thats usually for special occasions.

🕷️ Your usual spot it cuddled up with each other either just watching TV or a movie or sharing earbuds.

🕷️ His favorite is when you’re just doing your own things but together. Being in eachother’s presence

🕷️ Normally he’ll be tuning or playing his guitar, writing down cords that work well together while you have a book or sketchbook in your hand

🕷️ When it comes to late nights together, sleepovers and what not his favorite thing is when you two are cuddling.

🕷️ His favorite thing is to hold your face

🕷️ Because of his spider senses he gets to memorize the smallest of details on your face

🕷️ Also this man, if you get his head on your chesr earlier on in the cuddle session he is OUT

🕷️ Your heart beat is his personal lullaby. His security. It calms him down. Especially if he’s having trouble sleeping after a particularly rough patrol. Expect him to just haul your ass onto the bed and just bury himself into you.

🕷️ Also this man is not SUPER into the traditional PDA, dont expect to get any long kisses from him in public or you sitting in his lap.

🕷️ He has his own form of PDA though. He ALWAYS has to be close to you.

🕷️ If someone is standing next to you? No they’re not. Suddenly he’s (not so subtly) making his way back into HIS spot next to you and then standing shoulder to shoulder.

🕷️ This is something he will not move on, his spot is next to you and your spot is next to him. Whatever surface he is laying on or sitting on he expects you to be next to him or sitting between his legs

🕷️ He’s not a full on hand holder (the most you’ll get is a pinky hold) but he is the type to either always have his arm on you SOMEWHERE. Whether that's resting his elbow on your shoulder, arm around your shoulders. He’s just always touching you in some way.

🕷️ He’s always slinging his body over you, smothering you. THATS his favorite form of PDA.

🕷️ Or if he’s just feeling especially territorial he'll have his hand in your back pocket.

🕷️ Its not because of any superficial reason, this guy is the opposite from that. He’s just solid in the relationship, and prefers the super intimate physicalities to be just between you two.

🕷️ Unbeknownst to him though, its not really needed because this mf is ALWAYS staring at you with the most lovey dovey love sick puppy eyes.

🕷️ Whenever he talks about you to Miles or Gwen or Pavitr or Miguel…really anyone that will listen

🕷️ They usually have to tell him to get back on topic.

🕷️ Also always expect to be wearing SOME article of his. Its his way of…making sure he’s always with you. Totally not because he’s vocal about you being his ans when he’s not with you others gotta know.

🕷️ And he’s the same way. He’s always got one of your jackets around his waist or one of your tees. Anything you’ll let him wear (steal) to show off that he’s yours. It gives him the biggest shit eating grin.

🕷️ If you’ll let him, he’ll go as far as to take an old tee you were planning on getting rid off and add a patch of it to his vest.

🕷️ Also uhmm…this mf never stops texting you. ESPECIALLY if he’s away in another universe he’s sending selfs.

🕷️ He expects selfies back, and it gets to the point where his wallpaper is a collage of all the selfies you’ve taken and he’s taken…candids or not.

🕷️ Its also usually the most unreadible shit, because he’s convined he can text and swing which you’ve told him NOT to do

🕷️ On the topic of his wreckless swinging, you two have a rule

🕷️ He doesn’t want you involved with his Spider stuff. He’s got that part of the stereotypical spiderman mentality. He doesn’t want you to get hurt.

🕷️ But for your sanity, any injury he has you take care of (if you can). If gives you some sort of peace of mind to know how he’s going in and what to expect.

🕷️ Ever since you both got together he’s been more careful.

🕷️ Cause he’s actually got something to come back to on his earth.

🕷️ When you get together he’s more passionate about his cause

🕷️ Because now he has a much more personal goal to work for.

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - REVELATION

A/N: Here comes chapter FIVE! Wow, I can't believe I am still writing this. But I am here for it. I do this for fun and share my fun with you. So, enjoy. Thoughts are appreciated.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: angst

Summary: Scott decided to be a dick and share something he shouldn't.

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story is suitable for mature audience.

Words: 4300+

Important note: Again, Logan is a tall MF, because they fucked up in the movies. Also, Hugh Jackman!Wolverine. This is set in AU.

A TOUCH OF HOPE MASTERLIST | Chapter Four

LOGAN HOWLETT - REVELATION

Y/N’s body twitched in her sleep. Her mind was filled with the scenes of the moment she used her forcefield in Salem. In the dream, she felt her power radiating through her body. And then, the power engulfed her. She felt powerful like never before. As if she could defeat the whole world that was against her. Her body glowed like a star in the midnight sky. 

She gasped and opened her eyes, panting. “Y/N?” she heard her name. Her eyes found Logan staring at her. His hand was on her shoulder, gripping it tightly. 

She blinked a few times. “Where are we?” 

“Back at school,” he said. 

Logan leaned a bit closer to her. He noticed something strange. It appeared her irises changed colour for a second. It was faint, but it was there. “Are you okay, kid?” 

Her breathing calmed, and she nodded. “Yeah. It was just a dream.” She turned behind her.

JJ was asleep in the back. After such a long time, he was able to sleep peacefully. His legs were resting on the seats, and he was hugging himself. He had the whole back seat for himself. It brought a smile to Y/N’s face. 

She reached for him and gently tapped his leg. “We’re here,” she whispered to Jerome. The boy yawned, and his eyes met her. She helped him out of the car.

“This is the school?” he asked. What he saw was a garage full of cars and two motorbikes. 

Logan walked to Y/N. He lifted her head up to have a better look at her eyes. They were back to their regular colour. She wanted to say something. However, Logan was faster. “You look like shit,” he whispered. 

Y/N got annoyed by that. “Have you seen you?” she raised a brow and pointed at his bloodied clothes. 

Jerome grabbed Y/N’s hand when they moved from the garage. All three walked to the main hall. It was still early. The hallways were empty, and the school was dead silent. The day would slowly start in about an hour. “Where is everyone?” Jerome asked. 

“Asleep.”

They heard someone run down the stairs. First, it was Jean who appeared. She wore a red robe wrapped around her body, and her hair was tousled. Her mouth almost fell on the floor when she saw Logan and Y/N with the boy they planned to save. “Oh my god,” she gasped. As a telepath, she knew when they arrived. This, she couldn’t see. “How?”

Scott was right behind her. He wore his long pyjama pants and a white tank top. Anger was evident on his face. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he said crossly. 

More footsteps followed. Of course, Jean called them through telepathy. Kitty and Bobby arrived together. Bobby had workout clothes on, and Kitty was in a long t-shirt that ended under her ass. Finally, Storm ran to them, already dressed for the day. 

It wasn’t a pleasant view seeing them covered in blood. They knew Logan was fine. Y/N, on the other hand, bled like everyone else. “Are you alright?” Storm approached Y/N, grabbed her chin between her fingers, scanning her face. 

“We are fine,” Logan answered for them. 

“You don’t look like it,” Storm scowled. “What the hell happened?” 

“Take the boy and check him up. We need to figure out how to take off that damn thing around his neck,”  he pointed at the collar Jerome had.

Jean walked to the boy with a smile. She reached her hand to his. “Come with me,” she said gently. He didn’t want to let go of Y/N’s hand. She was his secure place. 

“JJ,” Y/N looked down at him. “This is my friend Jean. She’ll have a look at you and see the bruises, okay? These people will only help, I swear. I will come to you once we finish some business here.” Her other hand gently stroked the boy’s cheek. 

“Promise?” And she nodded. 

JJ let go of Y/N and took Jean’s hand instead. She walked him through the hallway into a hidden elevator. She kept talking to him, explaining everything on the go. Jean was lovely to him and patient.

Y/N closed her eyes. She felt a pulsing sensation happening inside her body. She grunted and stretched her neck. Huh, that’s new. 

Logan stepped closer to her, noticing the change. Something was off. He could feel it. That’s why he decided to stay close, in case she needed help. His eyes moved to Scott. His anger filled the room. He knew a big fight was about to start. As pissed as Logan was for recklessly getting the boy out, he understood it all. It was a ‘now or never’ situation. 

“How did you get the boy out?” Kitty was the first to talk. She appeared to be genuinely curious. “Wasn’t that supposed to be a team effort?” 

“Clearly, Y/N doesn’t know that word,” Scott scoffed. “If she did, she’d known to wait for orders and let us handle the situation. You know, we are more experienced than you. We’ve been doing this for years.” 

“And while you did absolutely nothing, Logan and I got him out,” she talked back and took a step closer to him. Y/N wanted to show Scott she wasn’t afraid of him. “It wasn’t the plan, but it had to be done.” 

“Can’t believe you talked Logan into this,” said Scott. “I thought at least someone would have more intellect. I guess I was wrong.” 

Logan pushed through Y/N, stepping right in front of Cyclops. He grabbed him by the tank top. “Watch your mouth, Scotty. You have no idea what happened and how it happened. Before you point fingers and accuse anyone of anything, try to find out information about things.” 

“Look at you,” Scott laughed. “She’s got inside your head, hasn’t she? She whistles, and like a good dog, you come to her leg and sit.” 

Y/N frowned. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Logan’s claws were out, his fists clenched tightly. Y/N decided to intervene before there would be spilt blood. She ran to Scott and shoved him. “What is your problem, dude?” 

“You are my problem,” he snarled. “Ever since you came here, everyone has been running around you. As if you were some kind of miracle among mutants. Well, guess what? You are not special.” 

“Scott, what is the matter with you?” asked Storm. It was weird acting like this. “No one has given her any special attention like you think. We treat everyone equally.”

“Ah, Scott, you are jealous, eh?” Logan smirked. “Look at ya, bub. It’s kinda sad.”

“What the fuck?” Y/N raised her voice. “I don’t get this, Scott. Why are you acting like this? What have I ever done to you? You don’t even know me.” 

He took a deep breath, grinning. “I know what you did,” he said darkly. “I can’t believe the Professor let you stay here among all these kids. You are a danger to them.” 

“What?” they all asked in chorus.

“Hold on, what are you talking about?” Bobby asked Scott.

Y/N’s heart dropped. Her eyes widened in fear, and she took a step back. How did he know about it? Did the Professor tell him about her past? Her fists clenched. “It was an accident.” 

“Was it?” 

All eyes moved to Y/N. They waited for an explanation. She didn’t want to talk about it, not like this anyway. Her hands were cold, and her body shivered. Why did it have to be like this? She would tell them once she was ready. She shook her head and pursed her lips. Y/N’s heart beat fast. She could hear it in her ears and feel it in her throat. 

“How do you know about it?” she muttered. “Who told you?”

“I did some research. Do you know there is an article about what you did?” Scott grinned. He felt like a winner. Everyone would know who she really was - a murderer. “At first, it was presented as a gas explosion. Later, your own father revealed the truth.” 

The world was falling down on her. She forgot it was out there, on the internet, for the whole world to see. Her lower lip quivered, and Y/N wrapped her arms around herself. She wanted to scream, cry, even throw a tantrum. Some wicked part of her wanted to snap his neck for opening his damn mouth.

“You killed your own little sister,” Scott revealed her past, the darkest secret she owned. 

When he said the words out loud, Y/N felt like drowning. She couldn’t breathe. The pulsing sensation got stronger. Her head hurt, and her insides twisted and turned. Scott’s words echoed inside her mind. “Stop!” She screamed from the top of her lungs. 

With that scream, she unleashed the emotions in the form of a forcefield that burst out of her body. It hit everything around her, everyone standing in the hallway with her. The people who took her in were thrown against the nearest walls and stairs. Storm hit her body against a door. Kitty and Bobby were thrown into the stairs. Logan’s body flew into an ancient statue that broke under his weight. Scott got thrown out the nearest window and farther away into the gardens. 

That forcefield drained Y/N out of all the energy she had stored. It caused her to collapse on the hardwood floors, unconscious. More blood came running out of her nose.

The first person who got up was Logan. Thanks to his fast healing, he was able to shake it off. “Shit,” he cursed when he saw what happened. Everyone was down. Kitty and Bobby were moaning from the stairs. Storm was still out. His eyes found the damaged window. And in the middle of it was Y/N. 

Beast ran to them, already in his fancy suit. He must have been in the labs. “What the hell happened here?” He fell on his knees next to Storm, gently tapping her cheeks. When she opened her eyes, he was relieved. 

Logan peeked out of the broken window and saw Scott lying on the ground, groaning in pain. “Scott decided to be a dick,” he said. 

“What was that?” Storm’s voice caught Logan’s attention. Her eyes lowered. “Oh, god, Y/N.” 

That set of information made everyone question who Y/N was. Storm’s head was filled with doubts. If Y/N killed her little sister, was it safe for her to be here? On the other hand, it could have been an accident.

Logan tried to be neutral in this matter. There had to be an explanation for everything. Y/N said to him she had blood on her hands. He knew he shouldn’t judge her. He also made mistakes and killed people. But he never killed a kid. 

. . .

Murderer..! Psychopath..! You killed her..! Freak..!

“Y/N?” 

A ringing sound echoed in Y/N’s ears. There was even something that reminded her of a whistling train. And then someone said her name. Who’s voice was that? She wasn’t able to open her eyes and have a look. Her body wasn’t strong enough. Or maybe she didn’t want to face the reality. 

You killed your little sister, Scott’s voice rang in her head. Y/N huffed loudly. The person who was present in the room with her heard it. 

“Y/N?” The voice belonged to the Professor. “Can you hear me?” 

She rolled her head to the side, following his voice. When her eyes opened, Charles had a concerned expression on his face. Y/N didn’t express any feelings. She had her eyes locked with his. Maybe she tried to find something in them, anything. No one was present except for them. 

There was a prodding sensation in her head. It didn’t hurt. It felt as if someone was gently tapping on the door. “Are you trying to get inside my head?” Y/N asked him after a minute of silence. “I won’t let you in.” 

The man sighed. “I want you to remain calm while we talk.” 

Y/N sat up and stretched her neck. “How long was I out?” 

“A few days,” Charles replied. “Your power shut down your body. It needed time to recharge.”

“Don’t like you care,” she scoffed.

“I do. We all do.”

“Bullshit.” Y/N turned her body to him, feet dangling in the air. “Cut to the chase, Professor. Say what you want to say before I leave.” 

“Leave?” Charles was confused.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I’m a danger to the kids, aren’t I? I should not be here, in a school, where I can hurt more people, young people. Scott said it clearly.” 

You killed her..! You are a monster..! Murderer..!

“Scott doesn’t know the whole story,” Charles said calmly. “He should’ve never talked to you like that - accuse you of something he knows nothing about.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” she said strictly. “People know, and opinions were made. I am not welcome here anymore.” 

He sighed. “Why don’t you tell them how it actually happened? It’s your story to tell.”

“They won’t listen,” she clenched her fists and pursed her lips. “Not now. Besides, I don’t want to persuade them about anything. Telling my story was taken away from me. Scott wanted to give everyone a reason not to trust me.” 

Y/N took off the cables stuck to her body and then stood up on her feet. She noticed her clothes were changed into a different one. Someone must have done it while she was unconscious. “Promise me you’ll take care of JJ. That’s the only thing I want.” 

“I won’t let you leave, Y/N,” Charles wheeled before her, grabbing her by the wrist. “I’ve seen the good inside of you. Everything that happened with your sister was an accident. You didn’t know what you were doing. You were fifteen.” It was rare to hear Charles with a stern voice. 

“Don’t…”

“I have talked to Scott once he could leave the bed. Nothing can excuse his behaviour towards you. But I know Scott. I know he’s a good guy,” Charles continued. 

“The fuck he is,” she growled. “If he was, he’d act like a good guy and not a dick. He would wait or ask or say it between four eyes. This was pure spiteful. As if I was the one who hurt him in the past. As if I killed his sister or a child. That’s how it feels to me. He wanted to show everyone that I was a harmful person.”

“Y/N,” Charles said her name gently. “Scott doesn’t trust easily. After everything he went through, he’s careful and observant.” 

“That doesn’t excuse his behaviour,” she said through teeth. “He did this. He made me hurt everyone around me.” 

“And that is another thing we need to discuss,” said the Professor. “Your mutation is evolving fast. Logan told me you created another forcefield around the boy while you had one around yourself. That is impressive.” 

Y/N yanked her wrist out of his hold. “Are you trying to say my mutation has made me unpredictable and dangerous?” 

“No,” he shook his head. “All I’m saying is, I want to help you to reach your full potential and learn how to control it.” 

“How can I trust you?” she glared at him. “After everything that went down, how can I know you are not lying? What if it was you who told Scott everything?” 

The Professor shook his head. “I told you it is your story to tell. I’d never do anything to break your trust. What I told you when you arrived still stands. This is a safe place for mutants. No one will harm you here-”

“And yet someone did,” she said. “It started a chained reaction. Scott hurt me emotionally, and I hurt everyone physically.” Those were her last words. She left the professor in the infirmary and walked back to her room. 

She tried to find a way to not be seen. She was not in the mood to talk to anyone. Y/N wanted to hide in her bedroom and think about what to do next. Leaving would be the best option for everyone. Why stay in a place where people hate you or fear you? Yes, they gave her a home and provided her with food. She should be thankful. She was thankful. In the end, Scott took a piece of her. Now, she wasn’t able to trust them. 

“Hello, sleeping beauty.” 

Y/N stopped walking. She wasn’t surprised to hear Logan’s voice. Of all people, he would be the first to find her walking around the school. She turned her head to the side, signing she acknowledged his presence. No words left her mouth. 

He walked closer to her. “How you doin’, kid?” 

“Fine,” she uttered and continued walking to the upper level. 

Logan didn’t like that as an answer. He quickly followed her, trying to reach her before she got to her room. “Come on, Y/N, talk to me.” 

“There is nothing to talk about,” she sighed. 

“You kiddin’ me, right?” he reached for her shoulder and made her turn around. “There’s a lot to talk about, Y/N.” 

“No, Logan, there isn’t,” she shook off his hand and stepped back. “Enough has been said. You’ve all heard what I’ve done, and I don’t want to discuss it. I don’t give a shit what you all think of me. So, leave me alone.” 

“You are goin’ to leave, aren’t ya?” Logan stated, eyes never leaving her. 

“Don’t act like you care,” she turned on her heel and continued walking. 

Logan breathed heavily but decided not to follow. His eyes watched her until she was out of his sight. That woman was something else - strong, stubborn and a survivor. He wouldn’t let her go that easily. 

. . .

Y/N remained in her room until late evening. She had a backpack where she packed only necessary clothing. Her whole body screamed to run, leave and never look back. 

Murderer..! Killed her little sister..! Freak..!

It pained her to leave JJ in this place alone. He was a child, and he needed stability and education. That’s something she couldn’t provide for him. Y/N knew he would be safe in here. She was dangerous. What if she also killed him? 

Y/N opened the door and peeked outside. The hallway was empty. At this time, the students were asleep. She left her room and silently ran down the stairs to the main entrance.

The plan was simple -  leave the school and walk as far as her legs would take her. What if this was supposed to be an interchange? All she could do now was speculate. 

Once she closed the entrance door, she took a deep breath of the cold air. The sky was dark, and this part of the world rested again. She walked from the school and headed to the main gate. 

Y/N thought about leaving for New York. It was a gigantic city with maximum opportunities. She could find a job, start a new life and forget about everything that happened in the past. There was a slight chance she could find love, be happy and build a family. It was not something she dreamt of, but now, it was something she could focus on. One step at a time. 

She was almost at the gate. Her new life was only seconds away. However, she found Logan leaning against the metal gate. She sighed, annoyed. 

“Took you long enough,” Logan commented. He had a cigar in his hand, smoking it. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she asked. Y/N crossed her arms over her chest. 

“You think I’d let you leave?” he raised a brow and took a drag. “Ain’t happening, kid.” 

“You do realise I’m not a kid,” she frowned at him. 

“You are acting like one,” he said back. “Instead of talking, you are running away. Have you ever tried facing the problems?” When she didn’t give him any snarky comeback, he chuckled. Logan opened the gate. “Come on, let’s have a walk.”

Y/N tilted her head, confused. “Why are you still talking to me, Logan? After everything that I’ve done and you’ve learnt. You should be glad I’m running away.” 

“You are a stubborn woman, you know that?” he laughed. 

“I’ve been told before,” she winked at him and walked through the gate with him close behind. 

They walked through the driveway in the middle of the night. They couldn’t see much. The moon was in its Third Quarter and hidden behind the trees. The surroundings were peaceful. Some would say it was weirdly romantic. 

“Scott is an ass,” Logan said after a while. “Can’t believe he’d do that. I thought many things about him, but this is just another level of being insecure and jealous.” 

She laughed. “I hate Scott,” she stated. “Sorry, but what he did is inexcusable. He told you all something he knows nothing about.” 

“Listen,” Logan stopped and patted her shoulder. “Would you tell us in the future?” 

Her hand found his hand on her shoulder. “In time, I would. I’d need to be sure I can trust you. I’d want you to know who I was and what I did.”

Without thinking, Logan pushed her closer to his body and gave her a side hug. “You can trust us. Or at least trust me. I’ve been through shit. I’ll understand ya.” 

When Logan pulled away, Y/N was glad he couldn’t see her flaming hot face. They continued walking down the road. 

“Have you killed a child?” she asked boldly.

“No. That I didn’t.” 

She clapped her hand once. “There you go. Don’t get me wrong, I would never hurt a child. I would never hurt my own sister. Until I did.”

“I know.” And then came the dreaded sentence. “Tell me what happened, Y/N.” 

She took a deep breath. As much as she hated digging into her past, she wanted to tell at least someone what happened that day. It appeared before her eyes like a movie. This time, she didn’t run from it. She faced it like her greatest fear. 

“It was the day my ability appeared,” she started slowly. “It was Saturday afternoon when it happened. I remember I was on edge since morning. I couldn’t explain it then. I was moody and irritated by everything. I got grounded for my behaviour and had to watch my sister in the afternoon.

“Jill wasn’t even six. She was a spoiled child. Jill wanted all the dolls. She wanted my CD player and music. That day, she was extremely annoying. I remember her jumping on my bed, screaming something. I wanted to finish an essay for school. Jill wanted to be a brat and get on my nerves. 

“I started to scream at her. Words flowing out of my mouth. She fought back, and then it happened. The forcefield flew out of my body. It damaged my whole room, ruined a wall, and my sister was nowhere to be found.” 

Y/N was there again. When she opened her eyes, she found the room in ruins. A wall was missing, dust flew in the air, and everything was a mess. Her body was shaking. She was in shock. What the hell happened? She took a few steps forward. She went closer to a wall that was now missing. People from her neighbourhood were staring at the scene, gasping and pointing fingers. Her eyes fell down on the front yard, where she found her sister lying without any trace of life. 

“All rescue teams came to our house. News stations filled our street. Everyone wanted to see what happened,” she recalled. “Because my bedroom was above the kitchen, people believed it was a gas explosion. However, my parents immediately knew who was at fault.” 

They walked to the crossing. No cars were passing by. 

“My parents threw me into an asylum where I stayed for a few years until I escaped that place,” she added. “I can still hear my parents screaming at me. Their voices are a reminder of what I did.” 

Logan grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly. “It wasn’t your fault, Y/N. Our mutations awaken when we are kids or teens, and we are in emotional distress,” he explained to her. 

“Back then, I didn’t know it,” she said. “One remains the same: I killed my sister. It was unintentional. I would never hurt a five-year-old. I would never hurt a child,” her voice shook. 

“I know. I believe you,” Logan affirmed her. His hand never left hers. “That’s why you needed to save JJ, right?” 

She quickly nodded. “Yeah. To even convince myself that I don’t kill kids for fun.”

They looked at the main road. This was a crucial moment for Y/N. It was up to her to decide whether she wanted to stay or leave forever. 

“I want you to know that you have a friend in me, Y/N,” he said after a while. “And there are more of us who did some bad shit.” 

“I know,” she whispered. Y/N was conflicted. She couldn’t decide what to do. Now she wished to see Logan’s face, to know how he was looking at her. 

His presence was magnetic and radiant. Y/N had noticed it while they were driving to Salem. He made her feel something new, unknown. She couldn’t quite put a finger on it. 

“Is this a goodbye?” Logan asked. “Or can I drag your ass back into the mansion?”

She laughed. Yes, at least she had a friend in him. That’s when she realised Logan was still holding her hand. “Will you continue to train me?” 

“Imma kick your ass tomorrow,” he pulled her hand, and she collided with his hard body. He patted her head as if she was a dog. Together, they started to walk back to school. 

[venerawrites]

Hi!! (: Could you maybe do some headcanons for what Gaara, Itachi, and Kakashi's type/ideal partner would be? In terms of personality, traits, looks, or anything else (: Also feel free to only do one of the above or add any other characters you'd want! Thank you!!

author's note: I love this request so much, I've been waiting for someone to ask me about Naruto characters' types, so I can rant about it. Thank you so much for sending this idea! :) <3

➤ Gaara

Occupation - Gaara's ideal partner would either be a civilian or someone who is involved in state politics (for example, a member of the Council). Knowing how dangerous the life of a shinobi is and how many enemies he has out there, I don't believe he would ever fall for a ninja.

Looks - while I don't think Gaara particularly cares for looks and appearances, his s/o has to be more or less presentable (especially if they are to be seen next to the Kazekage). I've always imagined him with a s/o, whose style resembles the style of the ancients- clothes made of white linen, gold jewellery (especially jewelled collars and bracelets), and different hair accessories, symbols of their status in the village. I also definitely see his s/o wearing makeup as both a way to protect their skin from the harsh climate and a way to compliment their look.

Personality - the ideal partner for Gaara has to be someone who is calm, gentle, and cares for the people, just as much as him. They definitely have to be patient (being in a relationship with him would definitely require a lot of patience!) and understanding person, who is able to accept him for who he is and what he has done in the past. Now, if his s/o is involved in politics of some sort, I definitely imagine them as someone who is calculating and cunning as well. While Gaara has years of experience as a Kazekage, I don't think he is a political strategist, so his partner would usually be the one influencing the other members of the Council or important figures from other villages, in order to further Suna's best interests.

➤ Itachi

Occupation - healer or a civilian, who lives a life completely dissociated with that of a ninja. Preferably someone who lives far away from the Land of Fire, in a remote village or by themselves, and also had never heard of him or his clan before.

Looks - I think Itachi would fall for someone who is very soft and innocent looking - someone who more or less remind him of his mother. As someone whose main occupation is to gather herbs or do some type of craft, I imagine his s/o preferring more simple clothing, in which they can move freely and comfortably. They would probably have tons of amulets/jewellery on them, the majority of which are heirlooms left by their family. Their style is what I would describe as "bohemian" with an emphasis on organic elements and nature.

Personality - I think Itachi's ideal partner is someone who can serve as some form of escape for him - a free-spirited and optimistic individual, who can offer a different view of the world. They have to be caring, sweet, and respectful, especially when it comes to Itachi's personal space. I think he would appreciate having someone, who won't poke their nose in his business too much and press him to open up to them before he is ready. Still, his s/o has to be someone confident, loyal and also very honest. He would benefit from someone, who would tell him openly what they think and would be his pillar of support in moments when he dwells in self-doubt and regret over the past.

➤ Kakashi

Occupation - there is a 99% for Kakashi to fall for a fellow shinobi or at least someone who had worked a shinobi at some point in their life. His work is pretty much his life, so I definitely see him with someone who can understand how demanding this job is, as well as how it can affect people's lives.

Looks - as long as their s/o does NOT resemble Rin or an Uchiha, he doesn't care. If his s/o is a ninja, they would probably wear the same shinobi attire as him most of the time. If they are not a ninja anymore, I imagine Kakashi with someone who still puts some effort in their appearance, but they don't overdo it. Not a "must", but I do imagine him with someone with either shoulder-length or long hair, so he can run his fingers through their locks as a gesture of love or while falling asleep.

Personality - his s/o has to be someone who is strong-willed, honest, and has a deep sense of community and caring about the people close to them. I imagine Kakashi being with someone who can easily take the role of a "parent" or "the wise adult" (as he has to do quite often) and who doesn't shy away from their responsibilities. His s/o has to be someone who he can share his burdens with and who would stay by his side through good and bad. I imagine Kakashi being with someone with a strong personality, who can sometimes act before they think, yet they always have others' best interests in mind. They would often have strong opinions of stuff and while this can lead with occasional clashes with Kakashi, he would appreciate their honesty and their willingness to argue for what they think it's right.

cc artwork: Sin Jong Hun

[itscherrylipsforme]

Paper cuts and cheek kisses: Minho tmr x Med jack!fem!reader

Summary: Minho was never one to go the med jacks' cabin often. On the contrary actually, you had to drag him into it whenever he got hurt in order to patch him up. Oh girl, but things changed when you two started dating, and now he comes up with the silliest excuses just to see your face. At least being his fave med jack means some special treatment

Warnings: None, except that Minho is madly in love and reader is slightly sarcastic (got it from her mother, aka me)

Requested: yes

Words: Around 1300

Author's rambles: As someone who had the biggest crush on Minho growing up (Who I want to fool with this? I still do) and who imagined her role in the Maze would be med jack this request was so cute to write. Hope you like it!

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

Everyone needed to prove their worth in the maze, from the youngest and oldest boys to you, the only girl. And being honest, your passed that test with excellent marks. Living in a place full of the most stubborn and reckless shanks you have ever known (not that you remembered meeting anyone before them, but that was not the point) proving that you were strong enough wasn’t a choice, but a need. However, most of them shown them a new kind of strength they hadn’t seem until then. The strength you used to calm Chuck down when he was crying during his first night in the glazeThe strength which was necessary to always be the one who introduced first to new greenies, to do it with a sincere smile as saying “Yeah, this place is a clunk, but it’s our clunk. Our place”. The same one that helped you become a med-jack.

You loved your role, somehow you were really good at it as the girl you were before being trapped there had some knowledge about it. But you would be lying if you said it didn’t have its downsides, one of them being… Well, him.

“Minho, slinthead, go to the med-jack's cabin right now. That cut doesn’t look good” you demanded as soon as you saw him on the gardens talking with Newt after he came back from the maze.

“Nice to see you too, princess” That condescending pet names he used on you, you swear one day your eyes would fall from your face just because of the times you had rolled them. Since your first day you had to deal with his teasing (not flirting, as you had corrected Newt when he asked about it once) “And don’t worry, Clint and Jeff already saw it and told me it was fine as long as I cleaned today in the shower”

“Clint and Jeff only let you get away with no treating any of your wound properly because they are scared you will fight them if they said otherwise” You crossed your arms “Unfortunately for you, you don’t have the same effect on me. To the cabin, now. I will be the one who binds it”

“You are lucky I can’t say no to you, darling” He started following you towards the med-jack’s, not without smiling sheepishly first.

Sitting in the hammock, Minho looked at your face as you gently rubbed a cotton soaked in iodine. So focused on your work and yet so beautiful, he thought to himself. He was enjoying the view, but your words snapped him from his thoughts.

“Can I ask why the hell you never want us to see your injuries?”

“Pretty girl, you are smart, way more than me, but you don’t get me. It’s not that I don’t want you to do your job, I have my reasons for it” He smirked, if he wasn’t so stupid sometimes you would admit he looked handsome right now.

“Please, enlighten me” You turned around to look for the necessary equipment to patch him up.

“Do you know that before you arrived, I never protested when it came to the med-jacks? That Clint or Jeff would treat me, and I wouldn’t utter a word?”

“If that is your way of saying that I am bad at my job, you should be more careful. Do I have to remind you that I am the one here who has a scalpel nearby?”

You were so done with his shit, if you remembered right there was a phrase that said something like “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you” and same way he shouldn’t annoy the person who was responsible for his health. The scalpel thing was a joke, more or less, but you were starting to rethink it.

“Not really darling” He chuckled, and you found yourself liking the sound of it “Maybe I just convinced Clint and Jeff to wait to heal this because I knew you wouldn’t want me to be injured. So, you would take me then and I would get to spend some time with my favourite med-jack”

“You are unbearable” And you were completely sure you mean what you said, but you couldn’t bring yourself not to smile at his silly plan “Please, tell me you didn’t get the cut just to see me” You asked while wrapping his strong (Were you thinking about that right now? Really?) arm with the bandage.

“You shouldn’t think too low of me, y/n” He shook his head “The injury was an accident, Newt came up with the plan when he saw it on the Garden”

“I knew that you couldn’t come up with all of that on your own” You smirked and stared at him. Had his eyes always been that deep or was the light that passed through the windows what made them look like that? “By the way, the patch up is done, just be sure you don’t drench it and come her to change it every two days until it scars. I would also recommend that you take a day off running, but you would ignore me anyway, and I won’t waste my saliva”

“You look really good when you are mad at someone, has anyone ever told you that?” He blurted out, not even thinking it twice, and he was surprised when instead of telling him to fuck off you blushed. Neither of you had expected it. You needed a few seconds to recover your mind and your ability to speak.

“Whatever, you can go now” You hadn’t realized how close you had been to him until then “Come on, what are you expecting? A good job sticker or something?”

“I have a better plan in mind” Another smirk, his hands guiding yours to rest on his shoulders, his comfortably around your waist. His face coming closer to yours, threatening to close the gasp… Woah, you had to admit that this bastard was handsome. And finally, his lips on yours. Slightly nervous at first, as he was afraid you would pull away at any given moment. Then sweet turning more and more passionate by seconds.

News always flied in the glaze, you two being “a thing” now was not. an exception. By the time the next bonfire arrived, no one, not even the greenie, wasn’t aware of it. Newt was glad, Minho had been rambling about you way too long and he couldn’t stand it anymore. Alby was a little bit angry, his rules had been broken again after all, but that was something you could deal with later. Minho was over the moon. You finally assumed that the line between annoyance and love is really thin. But there were two people who weren’t so happy about it…

“Here he comes again” Clint claimed as he saw a familiar tall and dark-haired boy entering the cabin.

“What happened this time?” Jeff asked as he placed some liquids on the shelves “Did he touch some poison ivy? Or did he catch a cold?” Being honest, they were growing tired of your Minho coming over with some stupid excuse to see you.

“A paper cut thanks to the map’s room, actually” He answered as he came closer to the desk where you were writing down the inventory before the next box arrived. “Afternoon, princess”

“Afternoon you too, my lovely clumsy bastard” You joked, placing a soft kiss on his lips

“Y/n, we will be running off band-aids if you keep putting one on your boyfriend every time he wants to see you” Clint protested as Jeff faked to be throwing up because of your small gestures of affection.

“Fine, a get-well kiss will be enough I guess” Minho accepted, and you wasted no time and kissed his cheek.

The rest of the med-jacks were more than annoyed with him, but he didn’t seem to care. After all, you were his favorite med-jack, the only one whose opinion mattered to him.

[chvoswxtch]

a little more time

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: you're starting to question just how much patience you have left for frank.

warnings: swearing, frank getting ganged up on by our latest dynamic duo, more angst than an early 2000s emo playlist

word count: 3k

a/n: & here is the second half of this week's double drop. enjoy the calm while it lasts, bc the storm is right around the corner. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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Frank raised his right fist to knock three times against an apartment door labeled 6F. The person who the apartment belonged to was still a mystery to you. Neither you or Frank had spoken a single word to each other the entire short drive over. Instead, you’d sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed tightly over your chest, glaring out the window.

A minute later, the sound of a lock twisting broke the tense silence, and the front door was opened. A tall man stood in the doorway, his dark brown eyes wandering over Frank from head to toe and back up again. He was somewhat obstructed from your view since Frank was standing right in front of you, but you saw the way his full lips pursed in lighthearted disapproval before he lightly smacked them.

“Aw, shit.”

“Good to see you too, Curt.”

“Wish I could say the same. You know, most friends do normal shit. Go fishin’ down in Florida, maybe golf or somethin’, but you, you’re always draggin’ me into some bullshit. So what kinda trouble you bringin’ me now, Frank?”

“Told ya I needed you to look after somethin’ while I was gone for a bit.”

The man wore a light gray long sleeved henley, and the top of three buttons was undone. The waffle knit fabric stretched tightly over his biceps when he crossed his arms over his chest, lifting one of his dark brows in question with a look of suspicion on his face.

“Yeah, you didn’t say what though.”

Frank finally stepped aside, and the man fully came into view before you. When his dark brown eyes landed on your figure, an expression of surprise softened his skepticism. His onyx brows lifted in a show of disbelief as he glanced between you and Frank, giving him a pointed look.

“She’s with you?”

“Yeah. Curt, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Curtis.”

Looking up at Curtis, you did your best to give him a polite smile along with a faint nod of your head.

“It’s nice to meet you, Curtis. Frank’s told me nothing about you.”

“Well that makes two of us.”

Indents of puzzlement creased along his forehead and without another word, Curtis reached his right hand out to wave his palm back and forth in front of your face, which took you by surprise and made your brows knit in curiosity while you blinked a few times. Frank looked at Curtis inquisitively. 

“The hell you doin’?”

“Just checkin’ to see if she was blind.”

“Why?”

Turning his head to look at Frank again, Curtis looked him up and down once more with an expression of dubiety.

“Couldn’t think of another logical explanation of what the hell she was doin’ wit’cho ugly ass.”

Blowing a puff of air past his lips, Frank shook his head and turned to glance around to his left. Meanwhile, you had to cover your mouth to stifle the laugh that Curtis conjured with his quick response. Shaking his head, Curtis reached out to take your bag from you, stepping aside and gesturing for you to come inside, all the while side-eying Frank.

“Could’ve at least carried her bag for her, damn.”

Frank looked genuinely offended by the implied accusation that he hadn’t even attempted to be a gentleman, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop from smiling at the way he scrunched up his face in defense.

“She wouldn’t let me.”

“Mhm.”

Curtis’ apartment was modest and simple, not overly decked out in furniture and decor, but definitely more homely than Frank’s. It felt awkward standing in the middle of a stranger’s living room that you had just met, knowing that you were supposed to be staying here for a few days. That thought had something from Frank and Curtis’ exchange suddenly sticking out in your mind.

Frank had told Curtis he needed him to keep an eye on something, not someone. 

Turning around to face them, your narrowed gaze landed on Frank and creases of irritation swiftly knit between your brows.

“You didn’t tell him that I was coming, did you?”

Both men’s heads snapped in your direction when you spoke. Curtis glanced between the two of you with a comical look on his features as he picked up on the fact that Frank seemed to be in trouble with you. It was evident how hard he was trying to suppress a smirk. Frank on the other hand turned to face you fully, and he returned your expression of irritation with his own annoyed, broody scowl. 

“Didn’t wanna ask over the phone-”

“And you didn’t think to ask in person before you packed me up and dropped me off?”

Curtis had his arms folded over his chest, and he was fighting to hide his amusement behind his right fist. His broad shoulders were subtly bouncing, and the sound of his snickering caused Frank to snap his head in his direction with a deep frown. Clearing his throat, Curtis turned to look at you with an easy going smile and gave a loose and dismissive wave of his right hand.

“Look it uh, it ain’t a big deal, alright?” 

“It is when he’s the only one here who seems to know what the fuck is going on.”

The tension between you and Frank was thick, almost visibly lingering in the air, and Curtis quickly picked up on it. He’d placed your bag on the floor by his feet, but in an effort to diffuse the situation, Curtis reached down to pick it up in his left hand and loosely gestured with his right towards a hall around the corner from you.

“Here, why don’t we get you set up, alright? I uh…needa talk to Frank right quick.”

Curtis regarded you with a sympathetic glint in his eye, and it had guilt filling your bloodstream like lead. Your presence here was an imposition, whether he would say that out loud or not, which you figured by his kind nature he wouldn’t. It wasn’t fair of you to stand in the middle of his living room and argue with Frank, disrupting the peace of his home and causing him to feel uncomfortable. Silently nodding your head in agreement, you gave Frank one last forlorn glance before you turned to follow Curtis. 

In the midst of your disappointment, both in Frank and yourself, you noticed that Curtis seemed to walk with a slight limp. It wasn’t overly apparent, and you’d only observed it because your eyes were on the ground in front of you following the heels of his shoes, but it stoked your curiosity. Frank hadn’t told you anything about him, you hadn’t even known he existed until today, but he was clearly someone important if Frank was leaving you in his trusted care. Your mind began to wonder where that integrity stemmed from. When he placed your bag down on the edge of his bed, you quickly shook your head and spoke up. 

“I’m not kicking you out of your own room.”

Curtis turned his head to look at you and studied you silently for a moment. His deep brown eyes flickered between the door of his bedroom and your own gaze. Taking a step in your direction, he reached out with his right hand and gave your shoulder a comforting light squeeze. 

“We’ll talk about that later. Why don’t you just sit down for a minute, take a deep breath. Unclench your jaw and relax your shoulders.”

You hadn’t even been consciously aware of the fact that you were doing all of those things until Curtis pointed them out. Sucking in a deep breath, you let it out in a slow exhale through your lips, trying to release the frustration and stress in your body along with it. When you sat down on the edge of his bed, your shoulders slumped in exhaustion, and you folded your hands in front of you with your forearms resting on your thighs, staring blankly ahead at the wall.

“So, this kind of thing is normal with him?”

Slipping his hands into the pocket of his jeans, Curtis looked over at you while leaning back against the wall and granted a nod of his head.

“I’ve known Frank a long time. Kinda gotten used to him bein’ a pain in my ass.”

“And you put up with it?”

There seemed to be an unspoken understanding between the two of you at that moment. The way that Curtis looked at you told you that he knew what you were really asking him with your veiled question. 

Should I continue to put up with it?

Letting out a deep exhale of his own, Curtis pursed his full lips and a contemplative look covered his features. After a moment, he returned your interrogative stare with an expression of empathy and lightly shrugged his broad shoulders.

“I’ve never known Frank to do somethin’ without a purpose. Whether it’s right or wrong, I can’t say. But, the intentions come from a good place. Most of the time.”

The way he spoke that last part caught your attention, and you looked up at him in intrigue. He had trailed off a bit, his dark brown eyes wandering towards the empty space next to your side. You wished you could read the thoughts currently passing behind his eyes. Curiosity creased along your forehead as you tilted your head to the side in question. 

“Most of the time?”

Curtis’ eyes focused back in your direction and he held your gaze silently for a few seconds. You could see on his face that he knew he had said maybe just a little bit too much. He turned his head to glance towards the open bedroom door once more before returning your look of query. His lips faintly tugged into a reassuring smile when he nodded his head in your direction.

“Like I said, there’s always a purpose.”

While Frank and Curtis were conversating in the living room, you took a moment to look around the quaint space of Curtis’ bedroom. Eventually your eyes fell on your bag that sat on the mattress to your right, and all of a sudden it seemed to dawn on you that Frank had packed it for you. Unable to deny your curiosity, your fingers reached out to tug back the zipper, peering inside to see what clothing and necessities he’d chosen.

On one side of the bag, a pile of clothes were folded neatly, and on the other was your toiletry case. Thumbing through the pile of clothes, you felt a tightness in your chest seeing that Frank had chosen outfits that you would’ve picked for yourself. They were ones you wore regularly, and he’d even packed your favorite pajamas. Knowing that you liked to be overly prepared and have options in case you changed your mind, he’d made sure you had enough choices for a week, and he even managed to fit two other pairs of shoes in the bottom.

Frank had grabbed all of the essentials to pack in your toiletry case, everything that he knew you used regularly, and even a few things he must have just thought you might need. He hadn’t just randomly grabbed a bunch of things to shove in a bag and go. Frank had thoughtfully chosen every single item in this bag with you in mind. While you sat there with your bag open, staring at the contents inside, an unexpected wave of emotion built up along your waterline, and you hadn’t even noticed until you felt a trail of wetness cascading down your cheek. 

A light knock on the bedroom door made you quickly wipe away the evidence of your emotional turmoil with the sleeve of your shirt, and when you turned your head, you saw Frank standing there in the doorway. He looked considerably calmer than he had twenty minutes ago, and seeing the remnants of sorrow shining in your eyes, his rough features softened into raw remorse. Glancing at your open bag sitting beside you, Frank looked down for a moment and cleared his throat.

“I uh…grabbed what I thought you would.”

Hesitantly lifting his head to meet your gaze, you saw that his warm brown eyes were full of unspoken apologies. Giving a faint nod of your head, you dropped your gaze down to your lap and spoke quietly.

“Yeah, thank you.”

Both of you had so much you wanted to say, but neither of you knew where to start, or what the right words were. The silence echoed loudly and the walls felt like they were tauntingly closing in around you. A sinking stone of intuition in the pit of your stomach had you prophesying the very real possibility that this would end with you left in bereavement, and that the romantic daydreams you had hand crafted in the back of your mind had been false fortune telling. 

Frank took a few cautious steps towards you, and you could see his boots come into view in your peripheral as you kept your eyes downcast towards the floor.

“Sweetheart.”

God, the way he uttered that one word made your chest ache. There were a million different emotions packed into those two simple syllables, and you could hear the tender longing in his deep voice softly calling to you. Frank knelt down in front of you, his large hand reaching out to cup your face. He slipped his fingers into your hair right beside your ear, gently grasping the back of your neck and he tucked his thumb under your chin to lift your head slowly. 

“Hey-”

Frank dipped his head to try and catch your eye. Swallowing thickly, you slowly lifted your line of sight to look at him, and the expression on his face broke your heart. His warm brown eyes were desperately pleading with you, darting between your lips and crestfallen gaze.

“-c’mon I don’t…I don’t wanna leave it like this.”

The warmth of his breath could be felt against your lips, and his eyes were frantically searching every inch of face for something…anything that could temporarily relieve this anguish until he returned with a permanent fix.

“Look if I could…if there was another way…”

Frank let out a deep sigh that trembled past his lips, and it was clear he was struggling to find the right words.

“Just…please. I’m gonna make this right, okay? I swear to you. I just…I need you to give me a little more time, alright? Just a little more. Can you give me that?”

It was hard to see Frank like this, the somber sheen to his eyes and the misery weighing heavily on his shoulders. He was asking for another strand of patience, but you didn’t know how much you had left, and it scared you to even think about what would happen when you ran out. It was unclear in your mind whether the love you had for Frank that was embedded deeply in the chambers of your heart could be enough to salvage the pieces he was leaving you with.

“Okay.”

Frank could hear the lack of conviction in your defeated tone, and it killed him. Deep down he knew he was asking too much of you without giving you any concrete reassurance in return, but he couldn’t see another path. All he could do was hope that your faith in him wouldn’t run out like grains of sand slipping through the narrow bridge of an hourglass, and that the consolation of your forgiveness could still be earned. 

His soft lips parted, and there was an intense emotion in his eyes when he stared deeply into yours. It looked like he wanted to say something so badly, but he cut himself off before he could. Leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and let it linger for a moment before pulling away and retracting his hand from your face.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. You’ll be safe with Curt, alright?”

A pang of disappointment quickly spread through you. For a second you thought Frank might be the first one to speak those three words. If there was ever a time you needed to hear them, it was now. But then again, you didn’t know if you were ready to say them back.

Running your hand through the roots of your hair and pushing it out of your face, you sucked in your bottom lip and grazed it with your top teeth before letting it go and nodding.

“Yeah.”

Frank eyed you wearily for a moment before hesitantly rising to his full height. He didn’t want to leave things between the two of you so unfinished like this, but he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t know if he’d made things better or worse in attempting to leave on a smoother note. When he reached the doorframe, he paused and turned to look at you again, and it bothered him that you wouldn’t look at him.

“I’ll see ya soon, sweetheart.”

There was no verbal reply from you, just another nod of acknowledgement. Frank lingered there for a moment in the doorway, silently begging you with his eyes to look at him, but your gaze seemed to be permanently fixed on the floor. The image of you sitting there looking so dejected and disappointed burned into his memory, and he knew it would haunt him, even long after this was all over. He wouldn’t forget the moment he’d let you down so badly.

The only goodbye you got was the resonation of Frank’s heavy boots fading, getting fainter and fainter the further away from you he got. A few seconds later, the front door opened with a soft creak, and a murmur was exchanged before the sound of heavy wood sliding back into a worn frame was completed with the soft click of a lock.

The golden hour dripped through the thin plastic blinds, coating the entire room in a sundrenched glow, but the warmth couldn’t penetrate the endless and echoing loneliness that dug deep into your bones knowing that Frank was gone, again.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawksfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[rewh0re]

MORE THAN JUST A DREAM ; GETO SUGURU

—wc: 3.2k, fluff, no curses au, college au, alcohol consumption, new year's kiss, ocs (reader's friends are ocs), implied oc x gojo, use of the pronoun 'she' once (except that it's gn! reader), gojo is RICH

a/n: I had to repost don't even ask it wouldn't show up in tags😐 anyways happy new year baby boos take this geto fic as a gift. REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED!!

divider cred: @/benkeibear

Gojo Satoru's annual New Year's Eve parties were a lavish affair. Set in the luxurious penthouse that he owned which he would only use for parties he hosted. There was a myriad of alcohol—all from the finest and most renowned brands—to choose from. There was music, there was dancing, there was a fucking champagne fountain for Christ's sake.

For a party hosted by some college student, it sure was a grand event. From freshmen to seniors, everyone attended it, dressed in their finest cocktail attires and fancy shoes.

For a party with so many attractions to catch the eye, Gojo Satoru and his best friend Geto Suguru took the cake. The pair could never be separated, may it be in the various parties and events they attended or when they were strolling the college campus. While Gojo was the louder, more exuberant and outgoing out of the two, Geto's genuine smile—whenever he was around his best friend—was hard to miss.

It was Geto's smile that always made your heart flutter.

You remember the first time you had noticed Geto Suguru. A simple, ravishingly attractive man, who sat two seats in front of you. He probably was not the teacher's favourite with the way he often got into little discussions and debates with the professors regarding the day's topics if he disagreed with certain aspects of it. Always polite and respectful but with a conniving smile on his lips nonetheless if he proved his point of view to be correct. His voice was always calm in class and he never stepped back from expressing his opinions. You thought it was a phenomenal quality to have.

You would see him often during breaks, his usual spot being a few tables away from yours. His rambunctious best friend was always at his side along with a girl who would always have a cigarette between her lips. Shoko Ieiri—you later learnt—was her name. Your friends and you would often not care, but sometimes, Gojo's mirthful laughter echoed throughout the area and you were bound to see Geto shake his head with a little snicker of his own at his friend's nuances. That's how you came to know of Geto. A well sought after, smart, insanely attractive and—from what you've heard— a polite and kind individual. You had admired Geto from a distance for a whole of three years now. The conversations you had with him could be counted on one hand but he had always been sweet to you. You wondered if he even remembered you. You did have flings here and there but you had always had that little spot of affection in your heart for the man who was Geto Suguru.

In the three years that you have been in this college of yours, you have never attended Gojo Satoru's new year's eve parties. You had heard stories and every year you had promised yourself to attend it. However, every year your mother called you back home to celebrate the holidays with your family and you could never deny it. Your friends initially complained but they understood your position and promised to tell you all the things that happened. One year you heard the crazy new year's kiss one of your friends had with a boy she met there and how magical it all seemed. The other year they told you how Gojo and Geto both got shit faced drunk and danced to every song until they physically dropped on the floor, unable to move and Shoko had to come take them away with a sigh. You learnt how Gojo normally avoided alcohol, feasting on the many desserts instead and how Geto and Shoko were often seen smoking a cigarette on the balcony together. You too wanted to attend this annual event, that was like a myth to you.

This year allowed that. With your father planning an impromptu vacation for only your mother and himself, you had the perfect opportunity to finally attend the party you had wanted to go to since your freshman year.

It was 31st December and you were beyond excited. Your friends had been elated to know that you would finally visit Gojo's party with them and they took it upon themselves to get you dolled up and ready for it, paying no heed to your complaints of "I can do it myself."

That's how you found yourself in Gojo's penthouse. The place was bustling with noises—music, talking, whistles (which you assumed were directed to the people who were dancing). The place was huge, something way out of your imagination. There were lights and decorations that increased the beauty of the place ten folds. And there was that goddamned champagne fountain that everyone talked about. “Gojo Satoru is rich,” was the very first thought that crossed your mind after a moment of awe and speechlessness.

"He's crazy rich," your friend, Aoi, laughed.

Oh, so your thoughts might have slipped out from your mouth.

"I'm sure Geto is too. Didn't you see his motorcycle in the parking area? That has to belong to some super loaded dude," your other friend, Saeko commented.

"Didn't you have a thing for Geto, y/n?" Saeko wiggled her eyebrows at you as she crossed her arms, a smirk evident on her lips.

"Eh, kinda. I mean, he's okay to look at I guess," you shrugged, making your way to the bar. The college parties you went to never had a bar. The alcohol had to be derived from the kitchen and most of the time, it was some sort of jungle juice.

"Oh shut up, you like him," Aoi smacked your back as she settled herself beside you on the bar stool.

"I never denied that," you winked at her as you downed the tequila, the bartender served the three of you.

"Having fun so far?" An unknown voice made the three of you turn your heads. Gojo Satoru. Standing tall in front of you, a lazy grin on his face and for heaven knows what reason his stupid sunglasses covering his eyes even at 11 in the night.

"Gojo Satoru," Saeko crossed her legs, leaning back on the bar counter as she smiled at him.

"In the flesh ma'am," he winked at her. A charming wink that girls would often faint over.

"That didn't answer my question though. Having fun?" He asked again.

"What would you offer as compensation if we said we weren't," he laughed at Saeko's little bantering comment. He knew she didn't mean it. Everyone had the time of their lives at Gojo Satoru's party.

"Oh Saeko, you have been coming here for the past two years. No need to lie to me, sweetheart. However—if I have, by chance—failed you this year, do dance with me. That'll be compensation enough," he winked at her.

"And they say chivalry is dead," your friend shook her head.

"I noticed you brought a friend this year?" His eyes raked over to you as he offered you a welcoming smile.

You returned it with a wave of your own.

"That's y/n. She didn't wanna miss out on this year's party," Aoi introduced you as she sipped on her strawberry daiquiri.

"Great to meet you y/n. I hope my little party meets your expectations," before you could counter his comment of the party being "little" a velvet smooth voice laced with mild jest interrupted your conversation.

"Don't annoy the guests Satoru," and there he was beside his best friend, Geto Suguru. His long black hair tied in a semi bun, an earring dangling from his right ear and a cheshire grin on his lips. Geto Suguru was a beautiful man to look at.

"I could never do that Suguru," Gojo turned to look at his best friend as his grin widened.

"Saeko brought a friend with her. I was just acquainting myself. Meet y/n."

Geto's eyes slid over to your figure, his smile softening. You could feel yourself warming up under his soft and welcoming gaze.

"You are in my psychology class," he said as he offered you his hand for a shake.

"I am," you shook his hand, the feeling of his fingers against yours, erupting little butterflies in your stomach. The coolness of his many rings against your warm hand sent shivers down your spine.

"I think I need that dance Gojo," Saeko said over the blasting music and the male was quick to respond. Giving her his hand, Gojo led your friend away towards the dance floor. She turned around to wink at you and Aoi before the pair disappeared.

You could only laugh at her antics. Saeko was a known flirt and you had heard how every year she would have a little fun with Gojo. This was the first time you had seen it and you could not help but laugh. Good god that girl knew what she was doing.

"Every damn year this happens," Geto chuckled as he leaned on the counter behind you. "I don't know if I want those two to be together or not with how much they flirt on this one day every year."

Aoi excused herself with a smirk, leaving you alone with Geto. Based on how the night went, you would either thank her or strangle her, but that was a problem for later.

"Why have I never seen you here y/n?" Geto looked over at you, tilting his head in question. His smile never left his face.

"Got caught up with my family every year. Decided to be here for a change," you ordered a glass of sangria, diverting from the tequila you were having earlier.

"I hope you can hold your liquor,"

"Aren't you a gentleman Geto," you smiled up at him.

"Oh yeah I definitely am," he nodded his head, mocking your smile. "Call me Suguru."

"Okay Suguru," you pat his shoulder.

"Care for a dance?" He looked at the dancing bodies and then at you, motioning his head towards the dance floor.

"Uhh, I've got two left feet. I'm afraid I'll scare people away with my dancing," you cringed.

His jubilant laughter filled your ears as his head rolled back, eyes crinkling. Your eyes widened slightly at the beauty of the sight in front of you. You did not quite understand if the slight intoxicating feeling that you felt was due to the alcohol you consumed or the laugh that he offered. 

"Don't worry about that. Half of us got two left feet, me included. Come on," before you could protest, Geto was already pulling you towards the dance floor.

The next few seconds were a whirlwind. One second you were sipping your sangria and the next you were in the middle of the dance floor, a hoard of sweaty bodies surrounding you and Geto's hands held your waist tightly. You hesitantly wrapped your arms around his neck as he smiled reassuringly at you. Your initial nervousness faded as Geto started swaying to the beat. Before you could process anything, you were there with him, living in the moment. You both danced to the music as his arms wrapped around you, twirling you around and swaying you. Somewhere between your dancing, you spotted Gojo and Saeko. She twirled in his arms, laughing as she landed on his chest.

"Cute aren't they?" Geto screamed in your ear over the blasting music.

"She never told me about this," you shook your head at him.

"Oh this is their annual ritual. They'll flirt for one night and pretend that the other does not exist for the rest of the year," he twirled you again. "I've told Satoru to just date her and he always says 'nah she is not into me.' I swear to god he's so stupid at times,"

"I think they'd make a hot couple, don't you?" You smiled at your dance partner.

"Oh absolutely."

Geto could feel a sense of warmth in his chest as he saw you letting yourself free, enjoying and dancing to your heart's extent. The pounding in his chest increased and he blamed it on his dancing.

He had always known you as the quiet student in his psychology class who sometimes answered the professor's questions. The few times you had talked was in class whenever you had to add points to open discussions. He had always found you to be pretty. He didn't know you personally till now, but he had seen you with Saeko, sitting a few tables away from theirs. He was glad he finally got to talk to the person he had been gaining the courage to talk to properly for a while now.

"Wanna get out of here?" He asked you as he pulled you close.

"Where are you gonna take me?" You poked his nose.

Geto laced his fingers with yours and pulled you out of the crowded area as he took you upstairs. He led you to a balcony that looked down at the city below. You had never really been this high up somewhere so you were awestruck by the view. The cars zoomed past below and the city donned a look you had never seen before. Lights decorated the buildings, light dusts of snow covered the streets as they fell from the sky above.

"Like what you see huh?" Geto snickered.

"This is wonderful—what—I have been missing several things," you leaned over the balcony to get a better look.

"Easy now, don't want you falling over. Also, yeah. This is like my escape, you know. When I get a bit exhausted by the party I come here, especially for the new year's countdown. I like seeing the fireworks," you had completely forgotten that it was new year's in a few minutes now.

"Shit how long since it's the new year?" You gasped at him.

Geto took out his phone from his pocket, squinting his eyes at the screen before putting it away.

"Uh four more minutes," he leaned on the balcony railing as he looked at you.

You could hear the test firecrackers going off in the distance. One then two and they stopped for a moment.

"You look absolutely gorgeous by the way," he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"You don't look too bad yourself. I especially like what you've done with your hair," you gestured at your own to make him understand.

"You like my hair?"

"Oh absolutely. It's stunning. Do tell me your hair care routine."

"Maybe I can text it to you?" He dipped his head down towards you.

"Are you asking for my number Geto Suguru?" You gasped in mock surprise. "Scandalous."

He was opening his mouth to probably say something witty when you both heard it. The countdown to the new year. Loud voices from the floor below started counting. The last ten seconds of this year.

10...

You both looked at the door and then at each other as you shared a small laugh.

9...

He came ever so close to you.

8...

His gaze was set on your eyes as you fiddled with the locket that rested on your chest. The intensity of his gaze made your insides jump.

7...

His hand travelled down to your waist, holding it with a light grip.

6...

Your eyes travelled down from his dark obsidian eyes to his lips as he licked them with a swipe of his tongue. What you would give to just feel them on yours.

5...

"You know I always did think you were a beautiful person. From the moment I first saw you in psychology," he whispered, his breath hot on your face.

4...

"Yea I kinda thought you were okay looking too,"

3...

He laughed at your comment as he pulled you closer by your waist, “just okay?”

2...

You could feel his lips hovering over yours, his eyes fluttering shut just like yours.

“Just okay…” you whispered.

1...

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The echoes of the plethora of drunk college kids had become background noises the moment you crashed your lips on his.

You could hear the confetti pop and the firecrackers burst lighting the dark midnight sky with a million colours but all that mattered in the moment were his lips that moved in perfect sync with yours. Your hands gripped his hair as his own grip on your waist became tighter. He trapped you against the balcony railing and one of his hands came up to cup your face as he slightly tilted his head in a way to deepen the kiss. You could feel his lips perfectly fit with yours, a taste of mint on his tongue. His cologne invaded your senses, jumbling up your mind further. He smelled of nashi pear, cardamom and vetiver with a hint of woody musk. You felt yourself falling apart due to his entrancing aroma. Kissing Geto Suguru made your stomach do several somersaults and your heart was so erratic in its beating, it could jump out of your ribcage. This felt like a dream. Hell, was this even real?

You pulled away for breath as your eyes scanned his face. There was adoration in his own two dark eyes and something akin to lust.

"Happy new year Suguru," you raked your finger through his hair as his head dropped down on your shoulder.

"Happy new year y/n," he planted a gentle kiss on your shoulder before pecking your neck.

A loud squeal in the very next second, broke the two of you apart.

"OH MY GOD SUGURU, YOU'RE GETTING BITCHES?" Gojo Satoru was smiling mischievously with Saeko by his side.

"Shut up Satoru," Suguru groaned at his best friend rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"I hate you so much, your timing is the worst," he flipped him off before pulling you to his side.

"In my defence I didn't know you would bring someone here this year. Every year you are alone—"

"SHUT UP SATORU," Geto yelled in embarrassment as a tint of red covered his cheeks.

"You don't bring girls here often?" You asked amused.

"Oh he never does. This is the first time!" Gojo stated proudly.

"You're annoying them Satoru," Saeko smacked Gojo's head as the latter whined about everyone being mean to him.

"Ok what is going on? I searched the whole penthouse and you all are here?" A panting Aoi burst through the door.

"Y/n got the guy," Saeko said casually and it was your turn to turn a shade of red.

"SAEKO!?"

"Y/n got the guy? You mean Geto?" She looked over at the two of you as Geto waved at her with a smile.

"Ok this is huge?! Y/n oh my god finally," she squealed in her hands.

"Ok the lot of you can leave you know? Just give us some time alone, geez," you ushered your friends away including Gojo who would not leave without giving Suguru a rough smack on his back.

"Did you like me? You know, before this?" He took your hand in his as he rubbed circles on the back of each of them.

"Kind of," you sighed. "I mean I guess I did have a small crush on you?"

"Okay so now we definitely need that number," he tilted your chin up as he pecked you lightly before bumping his forehead with your.

You could say you had a pretty eventful start to the new year.

[after-witch]

yandere kaveh & alhaitham imagine

word count: 2700ish

Synopsis: One of the stickiest ideas for a yandere Kaveh and Alhaitham sharing a darling that I have is Kaveh's softer nature and tendency towards soothing the understandably distressed darling, especially in contrast to Alhaitham's no-nonsense take on things, backfiring on Kaveh at some point.

notes: kidnapped reader, mentions of control & other kidnapping related elements

Let's say you're having one of your regular crisis moments over the realization that you're more or less stuck inside the house indefinitely. Sometimes, Alhaitham lets you go outside, but you basically just get to stand in a corner of the yard that's protected from all view so you can get a bit of sunlight every day. He holds your hand the entire time.

It's a bit of torture--you want fresh air, you want the sun, but you sure as hell don't want Alhaitham's hand on yours the whole time, grip tight, eyes scrutinizing. But he refuses to let Kaveh take you outside because he thinks (rightfully) that Kaveh will be too permissive with your ability to roam outdoors, so you have to put up with it even it makes your lips curl downward and your stomach roil.

But of course, standing outside for a little bit while Alhaitham breathes over your shoulder is not the same as getting to leave the house. Getting to have a life. Getting to experience the world.

So you're crying about it. And Kaveh is there to pull you into his lap and rub your back and let you rest your head on his shoulder as you sniffle and sob your way through everything bothering you.

And you sputter out that a certain festival is coming up, and it's one of your favorite things, and you've never missed it and now you'll never get to see it again!

You burst into sobs, almost hysterical ones, that take Kaveh so aback that he simply holds you tighter in his embrace. Tears come to his eyes at seeing you so upset.

"It's not practical, is it? Alhaitham wouldn't let you out of the house in your... current wardrobe." He gestures to your outfit, which is not something you (or Alhaitham, or Kaveh) would want to go out in public wearing.

Because right now, your clothing mostly consists of loose tops that barely cover your ass. The dresses and skirts and trousers that Kaveh bought for you were relegated to the locked storage in the basement after you had a particularly nasty tantrum about Alhaitham's penchant for under-dressing you, and you'll have to earn them back over time.

Such a thing is not something Kaveh approves of--he thinks you should be able to wear whatever you want, and he can't fathom why Alhaitham doesn't appreciate the way your eyes sparkle and your face lights up when you wear something that you actually enjoy. Especially something flouncy and frilly and colorful. But it's not his choice, and all he can do is grimace and pat your shoulder in sympathy when you continually tug the top of the shirts down to give yourself more modesty.

You sniffle, a bit of snot bubbling in your nostrils, and if it was anyone else, Kaveh would shudder. But it's you, so all he does is lean over and grab a tissue to hold it to your nose and let you blow. He kisses your forehead once you've done it.

"At... at the festival, you're supposed to wear clothes with certain flowers on it." Your voice is still choked with emotion, but you're calming down, which is good.

So he lets you keep talking, rubbing your back, trying to keep you calm. "That sounds pretty. It's a shame you don't have anything like that to wear." And he softens his voice so much, that even though his words might sound like a barb if they were coming from anyone else, to you it's just another sign that Kaveh is on your side.

He always plies his voice with sympathy and clucks, all things he knows help bring you back from your emotional ledge.

"But... if I had something to wear, I could go?"

You look up at him with such wide eyes, all glassy from your tears, and you look so damn pretty. He smiles, that little smile he gets on his face when you're getting in trouble and he's not allowed to stop it. His sympathy smile. His we're-in-this-together smile, as if you two were anywhere near close to sharing the same experience in this house.

And the words come out soft and fluid and not thought through, at least not in the way he should have. "Well, of course."

They're meant to soothe you, but they're not true. Because he knows that Alhaitham isn't going to buy you festival attire. And since he knows Alhaitham would never agree to such an outing, Kaveh won't buy it for you either. He also knows that you--sweet thing that you are--won't ask him to buy it for you, because it might make Alhaitham mad at him.

That's one blessed, beautiful thing about you... you never push Kaveh to do more than what he himself is willing to do on his own. Sneak you treats. Buy you pretty things. Let you stay up late when Alhaitham isn't home. All of these, he's willing to do, because Alhaitham will grumble and tell Kaveh he needs to stop pampering you or you'll never accept your proper place with them... but he won't do more than that.

But you never ask him for things that go Beyond that Point. You never ask Kaveh for your freedom, you never ask him to stop Alhaitham from belting you for wayward transgressions. Because you know that Alhaitham would be absolutely furious with him for doing such things.

And so, he knows you won't outright ask him to buy you an outfit for the festival. And since that's your only avenue for getting such an outfit, there's no harm in letting you hope for it, like you sometimes hope for other things. Like freedom.

Your eyes flick to and fro after he says this, and then you smile, a rare toothy smile that makes you look relieved and innocent. You wrap your arms tighter around him, and he's more than happy to return the embrace.

He strokes your hair and lets you calm down further, soothed at the thought of maybe attending this festival. He assumes in time, you'll forget. He'll get you something sweet from a local restaurant tonight, or offer to paint your nails a pretty color, and do his best to keep you occupied from your sadder thoughts.

And the matter is forgotten. Or so he thinks.

There's an interesting change in you after that conversation. Small changes, slow but sure.

You begin to sit quietly in the evenings while Alhaitham reads and Kaveh creates, working on your own little projects. You draw. You write. You started taking up embroidery, and Alhaitham (to Kaveh's surprise) agreed to get you some materials since you'd asked him in a shockingly submissive, subdued manner. It meant you were learning, Alhaitham said, and that deserved a reward. Most evenings you settle down and embroider large swatches of fabric, drawing on designs first before meticulously stitching them.

You don't argue as much. When it looks like you might lose your cool, Kaveh can see you biting your lip, clenching your fists, fighting down the words you want to say in favor of working with whatever Alhaitham wants you to do.

You start to talk more at shared mealtimes, even engaging Alhaitham in conversation on something that isn't "give me my freedom, you unbelievable asshole." You politely ask what he's been reading. You ask him his opinion on fireworks or how good he is at games of chance. You ask Kaveh the same.

It's cute. Kaveh thinks you're starting to get more used to the pair of them, even Alhaitham, and while he has no qualms about taking advantage of your aversion for Alhaitham to gather you in his arms, it is rather nice to see you getting along with scribe instead of spitting at him like a half-wild cat.

Until one morning when you waltz into the dining room wearing an outfit that neither one of them has purchased for you. An outfit made from familiar fabric, all decorated with embroidered flowers. Your hair is styled, and you've decorated your face with some of the makeup Kaveh has bought for you over time, even decorating your cheek with a pretty little flower drawn with a brush and potted eyeliner.

Alhaitham's eyes immediately narrow and look to Kaveh, as if he knows (and he's right) that Kaveh is to blame for whatever is going on. Kaveh's throat is so tight that it hurts when he swallows.

You're oblivious to it all, wearing a smile that can only be described as "drunk with happiness." You look at Alhaitham and then at Kaveh and ask the simple question--

"Are you ready to go?"

Alhaitham sets down the mug of coffee he'd be cradling and merely stares at you. His question is slow and careful.

"Where do you think we're going?"

There's a little hitch in your breath. Kaveh sees how one of your legs takes a half-step back, faltering. But you recover quickly and smile, eager and bright.

"The festival." You gesture to your clothes, and pat your hair, looking a little self-conscious. "Sorry, I overdid it a little. Um, I can paint flowers on you too, if you want them..."

Alhaitham doesn't respond, and you must take it for irritation at your suggestion, because you duck your head and apologize.

"Or-or not. Sorry. I didn't know if you'd want to dress up." You smile a thin, almost prim smile, and Kaveh can see the nervousness that's crept into your face, your body language. You know something's amiss, but you don't know what just yet.

Alhaitham keeps his face remarkably neutral when he delivers the first blow.

"We aren't going to any festival."

It stings, it really does, that your first instinct is to look at Kaveh with your wide, confused eyes.

"But Kaveh said--"

Alhaitham's head immediately snaps back towards Kaveh and if looks could kill, Kaveh would be dead on the spot.

"It doesn't matter what Kaveh said. I didn't agree to go to any festival."

Kaveh can see the way the bottom of your jaw begins to quiver, the way your bottom lip trembles with it. You swallow and wrap your arms around yourself in a protective gesture.

"But he said... he said if I had something to wear..." Your fingers play with the hem of your sleeves, which you embroidered with a spray of wildflowers. "So... so I made something."

You look up at the scribe hopefully, but Alhaitham doesn't budge.

"I never permitted any festival trip. You know that you aren't allowed out of the house. Now go take that off and--"

Your voice is choked when you interrupt, and you raise your tone at Alhaitham for the first time in a long time. For the first time since Kaveh told you that you could go to the festival, if you had something to wear.

"No!" The word is unacceptable, and you know it, and Kaveh knows it, and Alhaitham knows it, but you say it anyway. "Kaveh said we could go to the festival if--"

You stop when Kaveh says your name. He rarely interrupts when you and Alhaitham are going at it, because it's not his place, but this time.. it's his mess, for once, and he is the one who needs to pick up the pieces.

You look to him, a tearful sort of hope in your eyes. You're probably thinking that Kaveh is going to step forward and tell Alhaitham that he did say that, and that you will go to the festival. Maybe you think he'll talk Alhaitham into it, promise that you'll stay by their side the whole time, or only stay for a few hours before leaving. You think, regardless of the details, that for once Kaveh is going to stick up for you.

You don't think it for long.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that you could go to the festival. I wasn't thinking." Kaveh offers a frown. "I didn't think you'd be able to get an outfit together."

His voice is soft and measured, but he can see the way his words hit you, all the same.

"But I did make one and--"

Kaveh holds up his hand.

"I know. And it's very pretty, and you did such a wonderful job. But we can't go to the festival. I'm sorry. It's my fault."

You look at him and then at Alhaitham and back to him in quick succession.

"But you said." The last word is pinched and tight and Kaveh can see your throat working, swallowing, barely able to get the words out due to your emotions.

Kaveh offers his sympathy smile, but you're like a frightened deer, too wild and upset to take anything from it.

"I know. I was wrong." He gestures to your outfit. "Take it off, and we'll get you dressed in something else and have a nice quiet day together, okay?" He thinks to promise you treats or something from the market, but a reminder that you can't leave the house might not be the best idea.

It doesn't matter.

You shake your head. Your eyes are glassy again, full of pain and something that makes Kaveh's stomach feel sick--the hurt of betrayal.

"Kaveh, you said... you said we could go."

He repeats your name, a bit firmly now, and holds out his hands for the outfit you've made. And you're so unused to Kaveh talking with you with anything resembling sternness that you let out the softest little gasp, a hiccupping little cry that feels like a knife in his heart. Poor him. Poor you.

Your hands shake terribly as you undo the outfit you've made, pulling at straps you've stitched in to tie it altogether. Some of your tears drip onto the fabric.

The outfit slips off your body, and Kaveh takes it and drapes it over his arms, leaving you standing in front of them in your undergarments, arms limp at your side. The simpleness of your underclothes contrasted against the pretty way you've done your hair and the makeup on your face is striking.

The radiant smile and jubilant energy that has been replaced with you crying, body shaking with sobs that come out all choked, is painful to see. So is the way that the flower on your cheek has become distorted from tears running through it. It's an almost ridiculous visual representative of what is swirling through your chest and heart and soul right now--another dream of yours, taken away, crumpled up, ruined.

Kaveh wants to comfort you. Wants to hug you and kiss away those lovely tears. But he knows it would only hurt you more.

For once it's Alhaitham who directs you. Not in the sweet, soft way that Kaveh might have. Alhaitham doesn't wipe away your tears and kiss away your sorrows. But he puts a hand on your shoulder and pushes gently, redirecting you to the bathroom, where he will no doubt have you remove your makeup and undo your hair and tell you to remember that he's doing all this for your benefit.

The "I told you so, I told you that you'd spoil them too much one day" look Alhaitham gives him hurts, because for once, his landlord-roommate-captor-in-arms is right. He shouldn't have told you whatever you wanted to hear, just to calm you down. He should have thought things through, been more careful with his wording.

Hearing your choked sobs from the bathroom, only dimly muffled by the running water of the sink, is more than enough evidence.

It wasn't fair to give you hope that things were going to change for you. Because, as wrong as Kaveh knows it is, you're going to be with them for a long, long time. But you won't be living an open life. You won't be going to festivals or attending the markets or strolling the public gardens, talking to neighbors, making friends. You'll be here, with them and only them, where you belong, always and forever.

Letting you pretend otherwise is just cruel.

[cognitivelypartiallyfurnished]

Things Haikyuu Boys would do in a relationship (pt. 1)

-Sakusa, Kita, Asahi, Hinata, Tendo

Part 2: Nishinoya, Iwaizumi, Suna, Kuroo, Yaku

Part 3: Kenma, Kageyama, Terushima, Akaashi, Atsumu

Part 4: Ushijima, Tsukishima, Oikawa, Bokuto, Osamu

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Sakusa Kiyoomi: When your legs touch but you don’t move away.

Kiyoomi wasn’t the biggest fan of crowds so when his old highschool team decided to meet for a reunion dinner it took you quite the effort to convince him to come. Now you two found yourselves sitting on a big table with lots of other people. For Sakusa everyone seemed to talk at the same time, all this noise and the way people were eating at the same time was almost too much to him. For this reason he didn’t pull back when your leg touched his after you had to scoot even closer together. You were his comfort, the contact of your legs calming him down and he appreciated you being there with him.

Kita Shinsuke: Nicknames

Sometimes you wondered if your boyfriend Shin even knew your real name. Everytime he approached you he called you by a nickname, your favorites being darling and love. Coming from his mouth you could hear all the adoration he had for you expressed in a short name, it was one of his ways of expressing his feelings for you. On the rare occasion that he called you by your real name you reacted slightly later than usual, not being used to the sound of your own name coming from him.

Asahi Azumane: Holding hands when walking through a crowd so you don´t lose each other

Whenever you and your boyfriend had to walk through a big crowd, Azumane’s hand always found yours to guide you through the jungle of people. It all started when he lost you one time while walking through the train station and when he noticed your absence, he was about to walk to the train station office and demand an announcement regarding your absence. Luckily you were able to point out his tall stature in time and wriggled your way to him. Since then he wouldn’t have it any other way while walking through a crowd.

Hinata Shoyo: Boping each other’s noses

Often times Hinata wasn’t aware how close he was to you. In all his excitement he sometimes came close inches to your face and that’s when you softly boped your nose against his. Sometimes he only smiled apologetically but if you were lucky, he kissed your face in between his rambles.

Tendo Satori: Tucking your hair behind your ears

Tendo Satori was well known for his intense starring. He liked to look at as much as his eyes could capture, so when some strands of your hair were in his view of your face, he tucked them back behind your ear so he could capture your face completely. This was something he was doing unconsciously, so when you asked him about it one time he only replied with “I want you to be able to look at your good-looking boyfriend completely”.

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