#the things i’d do to him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kamiversee · 2 days

Text

˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗

3 | that it has to

❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.

❧ Content | language, sexual tension, teasing, fluff, & suggestiveness.

❧ Word Count | 5.3k

❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.

| Chapters mlist |

——“You almost fucked him?” Choso’s voice practically echoes into the air of your shared apartment, a few hours after having a brief conversation on campus and minutes after you started telling him about what happened with Gojo.

Of course, you immediately sigh, “No, I didn’t almost fuck him. We just made out.”

Your best friend was sitting on the living room couch, slouched back, head resting against the couch, manspreading, and eyes plainly up on the ceiling. All while you sat on a nearby single couch, explaining everything to him.

“But, you wanted to fuck him, right?” Choso asks, feeling slightly confused about how things went down in that storage room— especially after you’d, not so long ago, told him you wouldn’t mind doing just that.

You sigh, “Not at the moment no-,”

He’s all too quick to laugh at that and it stops you from speaking for a second. To which both of you get a little quiet. Then, Choso lifts his head from the couch and sends you a look.

“What?” Your brows pinch together, “Why’s that funny?”

Choso’s got this smug look on his face as he shrugs, “I mean, I know how you are so like… You’re tellin’ me you made out with him and you didn’t wanna fuck him right then and there?”

You scoff, “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

His eyes drift down along your seated frame before carefully rising back up, this knowing smirk plaster onto his face, “You? The same girl who gets worked up after one kiss?”

“I-,” Your voice gets caught in your throat for a second but then you’re quick to clear it, “That was one time and we were like, in high school. Of course I’d be flustered.”

“It was twice, princess,” Choso reminds you, “Though, you don’t like bringin’ up the second time because you still think I’m an assh-“

“You are,” You’re all too quick to cut him off, sending him a very pointed glare.

Choso rolls his eyes at you and huffs out a heavy sigh, “I’m not. That was freshman year.”

An eyebrow of yours lifts, “I know you’re not still trying to explain yourself…”

“I’ve apologized for my actions back then already so, no, I’m not trying to explain myself,” He says before moving to shrug and rest his head back again. “But you can’t really discount that kiss, we almost fu-“

“Yeah, yeah,” You cut off yet again, face heating up at the slightest reminder of a very steamy moment you’d shared with your best friend in the past. “I know. I remember, Choso.”

“Right so, considering that…” He has to bite back a smile as he recalls the moment himself, “It’s a bit hard for me to believe you made out with this guy and didn’t find yourself turned on.”

“I-“

“It may have been a while but I still remember your body, princess,” Choso admits, taking a purposeful pause just to hear the way you choke on your words. Thinking about the moment from long ago even more, he does end up smiling to himself, “I know how sensitive you are-“

“God, okay,” You breathe out, eyes widened and everywhere except for in your best friend’s direction, “We get it Choso, I’m sensitive sometimes. But that’s beside the point— I didn’t fuck Satoru.”

He gets quiet again, allowing your words to simmer into the air a bit before he decides to respond. Still with that little grin on his face, he sighs, “…Yet?”

To his surprise, you shrug, “Yeah, yet.”

“I-,” Choso’s head lifts off of the couch again and his eyes are quick to land on you, “Wait seriously?”

Your brows furrow and he notices you’re looking away from him, “Did you miss the part where I said he invited me out to a gala tonight?”

“No,” He tilts his head, “But what does that have to do with you fucking him-, ohhhhhh! You freaky bastards are gonna sneak off to have sex, aren’tcha?” There’s a bit of teasing in his voice as he makes his predictions.

“Well, I don’t know…”

Choso raises a brow and grows more curious, leaning forward a bit, “You want to?”

You finally look at him, “Huh?”

“Do you want to have sex with Gojo tonight, yes or no?”

“I wouldn’t mind-“

Choso tips his head to the side and there’s that stupid smirk on his face as his voice grows oddly soft, “Yes or no, princess c’mon.”

You shrug, “Yeah, I gu-“

“Do not finish that statement with an I guess,” He chuckles, “You know damn well you want him to blow your back o-“

With your eyes going all wide, you cut him off as quickly as you can, “Fuck off, Choso.”

He snorts, “M’just teasin’, chill,” He starts laughing at your reaction and you just send him a playful little glare before standing up. To which his laughter dies down and his eyes lift along your body as you stand, “Where’re you goin’?” Choso asks curiously.

You move your arms up a bit to stretch, “M’gonna go see if I have anything to wear. If not, Satoru said he’d take me shopping for something.”

Choso’s eyes widened, “Really? That’s nice of him.”

“I know right?” A smile begins to dawn on you, “I think it’s his way of making up for inviting me last minute.”

“Mh,” Choso hums, watching as you begin to exit the living room, “…You’re gonna tell me everything when you get back, right?”

“Of course I will, I tell you everything,” You reply cheerfully.

“Alright then uh,” He stands up and rolls his shoulders back a bit to stretch, “Be safe tonight.”

You flash him a genuine smile before disappearing around a nearby corner toward your bedroom, “I will, thanks.”

And at that, Choso finds his eyes lingering in the area you’d last stood in for some reason. It’s like there was more he wanted to say to you but he wasn’t sure what. So, he ends up shrugging the feeling off before going to cater to himself.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

Luckily for you, there was a wonderful dress you had sitting in your closet for such a fancy occasion such as a gala. It wasn’t the most expensive or anything but, it was decent enough to wear out and it followed along with the dress code Gojo had described to you through text.

It was a rather long dress with a slit that trailed teasingly up your thigh. Decorated in a pretty dark blue fabric, it hugged your body in all the right areas and gave you a rather flattering silhouette. Do you remember when or why you purchased this dress? No, but that’s the least of your worries right now as you admire yourself in it.

And it becomes even less of a worry as the sound of a notification pinging your phone steals your attention from the mirror. Since catching up with Choso, you’d spent your time getting ready and quite a few hours had drifted by. As such, the notification on your phone was from none other than the man of the hour— Gojo Satoru.

You smiled as soon as you read his name on your screen, quickly reaching for the device and reading his text that informed you he was downstairs waiting for you. After sending a hasty response back to him, you were quick to grab the last of the items you wanted to bring with you, stuffing them into a small purse you planned to carry with you for the night.

When you left your room, Choso was spotted in the kitchen with his tongue lapping away at an ice cream cone. Unknowingly, your eyes were glued to the sight for seconds longer than you realized. He drags his tongue languidly along the sweet dessert and you only blink out of your little daze when it somehow manages to miss his mouth, a drop landing on his chin.

At that moment, Choso seems to notice you’ve exited your room and he raises a brow at your eyes all over the lower half of his face.

“What?” He huffs out, brows pushing together in quick annoyance.

You bat your lashes and swallow before meeting his gaze, “Nothing,” You nearly chirp as the word leaves your lips, almost as if you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. Then, you shake your head and start to walk toward him, to which his eyes drop down to the dress you’re wearing the second your figure becomes fully visible to him, “Anyway, what do you think?”

Choso takes his time to study you, his eyes greedily drinking in every inch of you as his gaze trails down, focuses on your legs for a second too long, and then slips back up to eventually land back on your face, “You look alright.” He hums.

Your face goes straight, “That’s it?? Just alright?”

The corner of his lips twitched, “What else am I supposed to say?”

You roll your eyes, “‘You look good’ would’ve been decent.”

“I would’ve said that if you actually looked good,” Choso replies nonchalantly, quick to flash a smile at the way a vein of annoyance pops out along your face.

“Y’know what, I don’t know why I asked you in the first place,” You practically groan as you start turning away.

The second your back profile is revealed to him, he’s shamelessly drinking you in yet again before releasing a sigh, “I was just jokin’, c’mon.”

You glance back at him over your shoulder and raise a brow.

Choso looks you dead in the eye and tilts his head to the left a little, “You look sexy. There? Happy now?”

You blink, turn around to face him again, and then take a few steps toward him, “Were you being genuine just now or are you fuckin’ with me again?” Your arms cross as you question him.

“I was bein’ serious,” He tells you, feeling a bit confused why you’re approaching him so suddenly, “That dress makes your ass look good.”

Coming to a stop in front of him, you scoff, “You were lookin’ at my ass?”

“M’always lookin’ at your ass,” Choso smirks down at you.

You return a slight smile, “Perv.”

He chuckles, “I’m not a-,“ Whatever refute he was going to say goes out the window as you lift your hand to his face. Choso seems to forget how to talk for a second while your thumb swipes over his jaw, a loud gulp coming from him before he clears his throat, “…P-Pervert.” He murmurs out.

Your thumb draws away from his face and you show him the bit of vanilla ice cream he’d gotten on himself. Choso sighed at the sight, wondering why the hell he got so nervous moments ago. Then, as if to redeem himself, he takes his free hand to your wrist and leans down.

“Sure you’re not,” Similar to him, your voice seems to die in your throat at his following action. Yes, Choso is your best friend but… he’s one of those best friends that could easily be mistaken for your boyfriend based on the way he acts and things he does.

Like now for example, as he pulls your hand back up near his face, looks down at your thumb, and licks the ice cream you’d just wiped off of his face.

You’re nearly frozen for a moment as your eyes latch onto his lips, tongue, and just every small detail on his face as he remains all too close to you for a few seconds. Slowly, his gaze flicks to yours and you gulp.

Choso all-too-casually smiles at you as he lowers his voice, “Didn’t wanna waste anything,” He tells you.

You wonder if that’s supposed to be a valid reason behind him licking your thumb just now but instead of questioning him, you just nod. “Right…” You murmur back.

Carefully, he lets go of your hand and leans away from you, returning his attention to the rest of the ice cream in his other hand. After which, he starts walking away from you, “Alright, cya,” He dismisses.

You snap out of your daze and clear your throat, “Yeah, I’ll uh, I’ll be back in a few hours I think.”

“Mhm, I’ll be up if you need me when you’re back.” He says finally.

And with that, you collect yourself with a little sigh, “‘Kay.”

Then, you were turning away and exciting the apartment before he knew it. Choso, left alone, moves his fingers to his chin that you’d recently touched, wondering why the hell he reacted that way. His hand then wanders to his lips and he nearly smiles to himself at the way you’d frozen up just from him licking your finger— as if he hadn’t done similar actions before.

Shaking his head, Choso ends up laughing at the whole thing while he makes his way to his bedroom. It’s been a while since he’s made you flustered like that. Part of him almost missed it.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

Meanwhile, as you made your way downstairs wiping your thumb off on your dress, you found yourself replaying just about everything from the day so far.

It felt like so much had happened— from Gojo’s tongue all in your mouth to Choso’s sudden… Clinginess? You’re not sure what word to put to it yet but he’s been acting a bit strange. And if you’re being honest with yourself, so have you. You can’t remember the last time you found your eyes lingering on Choso the way they did today.

You’re not ashamed or embarrassed to admit that your best friend’s hot but the last time you checked him out this much was a few years ago when you had a crush on hi-

Cutting your thoughts off was the sound of Gojo calling your name. You didn't even realize you’d made it all the way downstairs. Though, the sight of Gojo in a dark blue suit and his hair neatly styled was all it took to capture all of your attention.

“Hi Satoru,” You greet with a kind smile on your face as you approach the man.

His hand is out for you to take once you’re close enough and his pretty blue eyes are everywhere on you within seconds, “Hey pretty girl,” Gojo hums whilst you lay your hand in his, “You look…” He trails off for a second as he lifts your clasped hands up a bit, signaling you to spin around for him. After which, the bright smile on his face seemed to widen, “Amazing, wow.”

“Aw, thank you,” You murmur while he twirls you around until you come to a stop in front of him. “Think I look good enough to pass as your girlfriend for a night?”

Gojo shrugs a little, his eyes still taking in the way your dress is clinging to you before swiping his tongue over his lips. “Mhm…” He hums mindlessly, halfway hearing whatever it is you just said, “Yeah… Y’sure you wanna go to this gala with me?”

You blink, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I mean,” His head tilts, “We could always do somethin’ else.”

“Like?” Your eyes remain on his face despite his gaze all over your body.

Gojo nearly bites his lip, “We could skip all that ‘nd just fuck in my car, honestly.” Voice lowering a bit, he hardly realizes he just said that out loud until your reaction comes seconds later.

Heat swarms your face and you gulp, “W-What?”

The man finally meets your gaze and decides not to play too coy about what he’d just offered, “You heard me.”

“Are you serious?” You question.

“Only if you want me to be…” Gojo smirks. One of his hands drifts to your waist and he gently pulls you closer to him, “I mean, that would be a decent enough excuse to give my parents as to why I didn’t show up…”

“I-,” You gulp down whatever it is you were going to say as you try to figure out if he’s being serious right now, “Satoru…”

“Hm?” His brows raise and he studies your expression closely. It only takes Gojo a second or two to realize you were really considering his words, “Y’know you can say no, right?”

You crack a brief smile, “Y-Yeah I know… it’s just…”

He quirks a brow, “What? You wanna fuck me?”

“No!” You chirp, glancing away, “Well-, yes, but no,” He’s smiling at the way your brows push together while you try to figure out what to say, “N-Not right now… I-I just-“

Gojo interrupts your stammering with a laugh, “I was jus’ teasin’ you sweetheart, relax.”

You move to playfully hit his arm, “Do you get off on seeing me flustered or somethin’?”

This smug expression slips onto his face, “Y’want the honest answer to that-“

“No,” Your eyes get all wide and you quickly step to the side, “Let’s go.”

He snorts before turning around to open his car door for you. The two of you waste no time settling into the vehicle and you notice how Gojo’s eyes keep finding their way to your legs at any given chance.

For the time being, you decide to ignore his little glances. If anything, you tease him a bit once he starts driving by crossing one leg over the other, your leg being revealed more due to that slit in your dress.

And you just loved how Gojo didn’t hesitate to glance over whenever he got the chance to. You think you actually liked his little glances. It feels like it’s been forever since you’ve been looked at in such a way and you were truthfully relishing in it tonight.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

No, seriously— the entire night was filled with those longing glances. So much so that you think you were growing rather addicted to them. Hell, perhaps you were even searching for Gojo’s eyes to be on you at nearly every passing second.

After all, he does have such pretty eyes. A feature you soon learn has been passed down from his parents. You don’t think you’ve ever known someone to be such a spitting image of their parents before.

Actually, you’re surprised you even got to meet them. Especially considering that when you first walked into the gala with your arms looped around one of Gojo’s you swore there were one too many esteemed-looking guests scattered all over the place. And when Gojo had initially pointed out his parents to you, they were surrounded by a bunch of older people and hearty laughs could be heard coming from their direction.

He made a comment in your ear about how those same elderly folks were going to come swarming the two of you pretty soon, which led you to wonder just how important a family Gojo comes from.

Obviously, they’re pretty wealthy and well known but you’re completely unsure what for. Though, before you get a moment to ask him this, his attention is dragged away by the first interruption of the night— some older businessman who was greeting Gojo in the blink of an eye.

You tried to slip away from his arm to give him time to tend to the man but with the way he tugged you closer and his smile grew more tight-knit, you got the feeling that he didn’t want you to leave his side just yet.

Such an interaction continued countless times throughout the night up until he was practically ripped away from you. Some other group of people finally got to him and his attention was completely stolen from you.

You weren’t upset over it or anything though, you actually quite liked the little moment of escape you got. It gave you a chance to explore the venue a bit up until you finally found a bar to occupy yourself at.

Only one drink was ordered and you managed to make small talk with some people who were also at this bar until things around you somewhat simmered down. As such, you eventually found yourself seated but facing the rest of the gala, your eyes watching Gojo’s parents chat with some more people— from your perspective, it seemed like they never got a break.

You tried looking around for Gojo but he was nowhere to be found. There were a lot more people now but things seemed more relaxed. Or maybe you were just feeling more relaxed.

Either way, with a sigh, you spun back around to face the bar as the soothing melody of Sade’s Smooth Operator filled your ears. Everything around you really was quite fancy, fancier than anything else you’ve ever experienced. Though, you dubbed it down to a bunch of rich people in suits making a bunch of connections with one another. Honestly, you could get used to this kinda lifestyle-

“You come here often?” A voice murmured right into your heart, nearly causing your heart to jump out of your chest as you flinched and turned your head to the person who’d just spoken.

An immediate sigh slips past your lips as you realize it’s just Gojo being as teasing as ever, “You scared the shit out of me, don’t do that,” You say with a chuckle.

He smiles, “And you didn’t answer my question, gorgeous,” Gojo purrs, tipping his head to the side as he leans against the bar and remains close to you, “What’s a pretty lady like you doin’ at a bar all alone, hm?”

You smile, “Well, my date-“

“Boyfriend,” He corrects, “For the night, remember?”

You swallow, “Riiight… My boyfriend, ditched me to go suck it up to some rich guys.”

“Yeah?” Gojo begins to play into this conversation just as much as you are, “What a terrible guy! Y’know, I’d never leave someone like you all alone like this.” His voice is filled with so much sarcasm that you can’t help but find the natural banter between you and him intriguing for the nth time.

“Really? So what would you do then?” You tease, maintaining such consistent eye contact with him that it almost makes him nervous.

Gojo shrugs casually and smoothly holds his hand out for you to take, “See, if you were my girlfriend, I’d have you out on that dance floor showin’ you off to all these lame rich people.”

Your face practically lights up at that, “Is this your way of inviting me to dance with you, Satoru?” You ask, breaking that little act of yours.

He’s quick to smile, “It is.”

With a hum, you place your hand in his and allow him to guide you out of your seat, “I suppose I’m inclined to accept your invitation then.”

Gojo swears that every time you speak, his heart is feeling all weird in his chest, “I suppose you are.”

And with that, he’s walking you to the nearest dancefloor where Sade’s voice has grown much louder. Obviously, given the abundance of wealthy people here, most people are swaying rather slowly with their partners. So of course you and Gojo follow suit and move to sway with that sweet melody.

Dancing with Gojo is probably the highlight of your day. Forget making out with him in some dusty storage room, or gazing at Choso much more than you intended to, nothing compares to right now as your arms drape around his neck and his around your waist— your body's swaying in sync to the song adorning the ambiance of the whole party.

It was almost romantic. Almost.

Up until Gojo starts being playful again. A smile spreads across his face so suddenly and you raise a brow. He doesn’t give you a chance to question his expression as he’s talking before you know it, “Am I?” Gojo asks very randomly.

You snort, “Are you what?”

“A smooth operator?” God, he’s the biggest dork you’ve ever had the pleasure of interacting with. All you could do was burst into a slight chuckle and shake your head at him. To which he raises a brow, “What?? That’s a genuine question.”

“I can’t stand you,” You giggle, rolling your eyes at his corny comment.

Gojo sighs, “Sit on me then.”

“Satoru,” You huff out in a scolding tone.

“What?” He questions, as if he didn’t say what he just said.

You turn your head to the side and chuckle at how shameless he is, “How do you go from being an idiot to some flirtatious freak within seconds??”

“I dunno,” Gojo shrugs, “Things just come to me.”

Nodding a little, “Do they?” You ask.

“Mhm,” He hums in response, staring intently at the side of your face.

“Well-“

“But I was being serious that time,” The way seriousness drips off of his tone has your body tensing.

Your eyes snap back over to him, “What?”

With perfect timing, he looks away, “There’s people watchin’ us right now.” Gojo points out with a little nod of his chin.

“So…?” A brow lifts in question and you keep your eyes on his face, “People have been watching us all night.”

“Nono, they’re watching like they’re seconds from approaching us.” He explains, glancing around at other people.

You chuckle nervously, “Okay… So what?”

“So…” Gojo lets out a long sigh and finally looks at you again, “I don’t feel like talking to anyone else tonight.”

“And what am I supposed to do about that?”

“Steal me away.”

Rolling your eyes at him yet again, “How?” You ask.

“Well,” He shrugs cheekily, “You are my girlfriend.”

“So?”

“Do I really have to spell it out-“

“Yes.”

“I-,” His jaw clenches a bit as he swallows any argument to that down, “Fine. No one’s gonna question me if they see you dragging me out of here.”

You blink, “Like, dragging you out to leave?”

“Mmh, no. Like, dragging me upstairs.” Gojo emphasizes, glancing over to a distant staircase.

You turn your head back to follow his gaze, “What’s upstairs?”

He finds himself looking at you again, “My old bedroom.”

“Your-,” You pause. Then, your head slowly turns to face him, “Oh.”

The man winks at you and his lips curve into a smirk, “Y’get it now?”

“Yeah, I think so…”

Gojo hums, “Think you can pull that off, sweetheart?”

You scoff at his little challenge, “Of course I can. I know how to be a fake girlfriend.”

“Do you? It feels like I’ve been putting in all the work tonight-“ His voice is caught in the middle of his throat as you tug him closer to you and tilt your head, your lips nearly on his.

“Has it really?” You whisper, eyes dropping down to his lips, “Should I start putting more effort into this twenty-four-hour relationship then?”

“Yes please,” He unintentionally begs, clearing his throat seconds later. “I mean-, yeah, that’d uh… that’d be nice.” Gojo tries to sound nonchalantly but he ultimately fails— something you find so ridiculously cute.

With one last little hum of acknowledgment, you pull him all the way in and your lips land on his. Gojo’s eyes widen for a second as if he wasn’t expecting that but in reality, he was just trying to put on a little show for the nearby lingering eyes. His hands grip onto your waist and he’s quick to shut his eyes and press his lips onto yours seconds later.

He had to make this believable after all…

As if the way you two have been looking at each other all night wasn’t enough to convince any idiot with eyes that you two were in a ‘relationship’.

And hey, maybe he gets a little carried away with making things believable because his hand somehow finds its way sinking along your body and he’s grabbing a greedy handful of your ass, groaning into your mouth, and pushing forward with you without a second thought. Then he feels you smile against him and he thinks his eyes almost roll to the back of his head.

It was such a simple little curve of your lips against his and yet he was already losing his mind. Or perhaps it was how long he’d been waiting for this, waiting for you. You’ve been inside his head all day and he couldn’t stop replaying your body against his earlier.

Fuck, if you kept kissing him the way you were right now, he swore he was going to take you right here and now– in front of everyone. Which is why he has to rip himself away for a second just to whisper to you, “Sweetheart, we-,” He’s cut off by your lips slotting against his again and Gojo can’t help but groan instead of finishing his statement.

Were you feeling the same way as him? Did he give you this unusual thrill inside the same way you did him? Was kissing him making you lightheaded? Was it distracting you from the surrounding world and making your body heat up all over the damn place? Gojo sure as hell hopes so because that’s exactly how he’s feeling now.

He tries to pull away again though, this time mumbling against your lips, “Fuckin’ need you,” He grunts out directly into your mouth.

Your grasp slips over to the sides of his neck and then up a little, hands framing his face before you ease back with a slight smile, “So have me then,” You whisper in response.

Gojo loses himself a bit at the sound of that, his lips sliding off of yours and finding themselves down against your neck and one of his hands dropping to grab ahold of you from that teasing slit in your dress, hoisting that one leg up against his hip and catching you by surprise. His other hand occupies your waist but his fingers are dancing dangerously against the fabric, as if he were seconds away from snatching something.

Your head tips back ever so slightly as a gasp leaves you, your awareness to still being in the middle of a gala coming to you, “N-Not here Satoru,” You chuckle at his hastiness, “People are watching-”

“Let them,” He hushes out against your skin, lips hot and wet under your jawline and his hand gripping onto your thigh.

You take things into your own hands by slipping your fingers down a little to his chest and giving him the softest little push, “Upstairs,” You murmur, “You’re supposed to be taking me upstairs, remember?”

Gojo shakes his head, “No… You’re supposed to be taking me upstairs.”

Rolling your eyes at his specifics, “Are you gonna let me?”

“Dunno if I’ll make it up there with you, baby,” He hums all too passionately into your neck, “I need you,” Gojo repeats yet again, this time licking your skin, “Needa taste you.”

A shiver runs down your spine and you gulp, moving one of your hands to pull one of his off of you. Slowly, you manage to remove Gojo’s grips all over your body but he struggles to pry himself away from your neck. Even so, you end up taking one of his hands in yours and walking backward, glancing around at the surprisingly few people actually looking at you two.

You’re thankful that not too many people seemed to care that Gojo doesn’t know how to keep his hands off of his girlfriend, with the exception of his parents who were among those individuals that were watching the small little show of affection you and Gojo just performed.

Your hand squeezes onto Gojo’s a bit tighter and you turn your body to walk properly toward the staircase he’d pointed at a while ago. Technically you don’t know exactly where you’re going but you assume he’ll lead the way once you make it upstairs.

Gojo snaps out of his little stupor and notices his parents are watching you drag him upstairs, making note that this plan of his seems to be working. Although, he secretly couldn’t care less that you were his excuse to escape this event– in reality, Gojo was genuinely eager to get in your pants.

But, you didn’t pay too much attention to that.

mlist | last chapter | next chapter |

Tags 1/2; @siriusblackswankourtzeyy @eternaltpaoe @moonsgravee @sooshisweet @looking4hina

@blognicole @designerpvssy @andyfasia @shytragedybluefox @papigotwap

@senseifupa @gojoslefttoenail @juliiizh @gojos-cumslutt @lovergirl65

@sydlunamoon-blog @gojstrulxvezx @gigiipeaches @kivrumi @urunclesbottomlip

@iseeyouuu @annieleonhardtsbitch @lwkykiyo @itsbellablue-blog @gorouenjoyer

@mua-for-now @bee3l0v3r @scarletteyuno @lilablogsblog @lolznoelle

@madaqueue @keriaonmarz @parakisssss @aniniyah @trx-xrt

@sxnkuna @chocolatecheer @unibrow-yzz @lovely-lady-tits @woofzz2

@pineapplepan7 @janrcrosssing @hauntedchoso @linksylove @lemonninq

@littlemug00 @namjoonie17717 @notjustagirlinthisworld @moonneversleeps @k4rma1sntd3ad

527 notes · View notes

katszumi · 1 day

Text

“have you seen the abs on that man?” hagakure sat across of you. “sexy on a stick, i swear!” she giggles. she was going on and on about the guy that starred in the superman movie you girls put on last night. henry cavill was his name.

mina agrees with her statement with a nod. “he’s the hottest white man i’ve ever seen before.”

“sure, he was hot, but are we forgetting the misogynist comments he’s made? sexy is one thing, but being controversial is a whole ‘nother thing.” uraraka inserted her input.

“oh, please. i’d cook and clean for him anyday he asks.” mina retorted. both uraraka and yaoyorozu shake their head in shame.

“speaking of controversial.” uraraka murmurs under her breath, you peer over your shoulder, wondering the intent of her statement.

you notice bakugou making his way over to your desk, his eyes planted on you and you only. you shift uncomfortably. why the hell would he be coming to you? did you do something?

once he makes his way to your desk, you look up at him with a half smile.

“hey, bakugou. what’s up?”

his eyes analyze the other girls before looking back down on you.

“my pencil?”

you flutter your lashes at him. “pencil..?” you repeated in a trance of confusion.

he groans. “the fuckin’ pencil i gave you last week. i need it back.”

now it all clicks. you nod, laughing nervously because of your stupidity. you reach in your backpack and grab the black mechanical pencil that you forgot to lend back to bakugou.

your arm extends to the male in front of you, waiting for him to snatch it back.

“sorry.”

he gently grasped onto the pencil, his hand brushing against your fingers for a small moment.

“it’s whatever. just rather not be the one to find you after i lent you something.” he shoved the pencil in his pants pockets, leaving his hands in there. “that’s one of the last pencils i have.”

you shoot your eyebrows up in defense, quickly lowering them after. your eyes falling down to your desk for comfort.

“well, hope you take care of that one.” it was a half-joke. a lame one, might you add. you were just unsure on what to say. especially since it seemed like bakugou was lingering around your desk. as if he didn’t want to return to his seat just yet.

“so, what’d you score on your test?”

“ah…it wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t horrible.”

“well?” was he really desperate to know that bad? you knew bakugou was smart, so he probably only wanted to know so it could boost his ego.

you rubbed your arm out of shame. “a seventy-nine.” you stared at his face to recognize any humility or laughter, but there was none.

he shrugged. “should’ve asked for my help if you needed it.”

right. you almost forgot that bakugou offered to help you study and go over notes with him for the next test. it was such an out-of-bakugou thing to do that you nearly didn’t take him serious.

you nodded slowly, processing his information.

“i was planning on making it up, so maybe for that.”

“fine.” his short one-worded response was dull. but what else did you really expect? “next time, don’t steal my pencil.” was his last comment before leaving your presence.

you sat in your thoughts, reeling the conversation back in your mind. what the hell just happened? it was the most simple yet confusing conversation you’ve ever had. was bakugou joking with you or was he seriously irritated with the pencil situation?

regardless, you made a mental note that bakugou was very protective over his mechanical pencils.

once bakugou returned to his seat, he unzipped his backpack, secretly opening his pencil box. within the box were a collection of pencils. there were so many pencils that he could give one to all of class 1a and 1b and still have few left.

aside sat denki who was clearly peeking inside of bakugou’s bag.

“damn, bakubro. you saving up pencils for a potential pencil outage or something?” it’s denki. of course, he never used his inside voice.

“i will literally blow you out this fuckin’ window and across the lot.” bakugou turns his head immediately, a faint pink blush spreading across the apples of his cheek.

bakugou just didn’t want you to know that the pencil was obviously an excuse to talk to you.

766 notes · View notes

burntheedges · 2 days

Text

do you feel it too?

Frankie Morales x f!reader | 5.5k words | masterlist | ao3

summary: Frankie's been Dreaming every night for weeks. He might be trying to pretend it isn't happening, but he knows what that means.

a/n: This is my entry for the Summer Lovin' Challenge! My prompt was "barbecue" and the moodboard and quote above. Thanks for the great idea and for hosting @pedgito @amanitacowboy @chaotic-mystery! And thank you to @sawymredfox for helping me figure out my idea and @katareyoudrilling for being an amazing beta, as always.

tags/warnings: soulmate AU, fluff, misunderstanding, reader has a nickname (Sunny), Colombia happened but no girlfriend/baby, kissing, cuddling, pet names (hermosa), food and drink mention, no use of y/n

...

“Fish!”

Frankie was Dreaming, he was pretty sure. No, he knew he was. Dreams were the only place he ever saw her.

“Fish, get up man, come on.”

He knew he was looking into her eyes, even though he couldn’t quite tell what color they were. He always forgot them as soon as he looked at them. He knew he wouldn’t remember any of this once he woke up. He never did.

But he was absolutely certain she was beautiful. He’d always known that, since they first started Dreaming together, years ago.

He knew she was saying something, but he couldn’t hear her. She always tried to talk in the Dreams, always tried to communicate. It never worked (or maybe it did, and he just never remembered – maybe he forgot what she said the moment he heard it). He looked and saw her lips were moving, but it was another, more familiar voice that he heard instead.

“Fish, you asshole, we’re going to be late.”

Frankie felt the dream start to disintegrate around him and let out a noise in protest. He reached out to try to grab her arm, but there was nothing to grab. She slipped away like always as soon as he tried to touch her.

Sometimes he thought he remembered a freckle or the color of her eyes or maybe the slant of her eyebrow, but he was just fooling himself. The only thing he could ever remember was the shape of her smile.

He opened his eyes to find Pope staring down at him, shaking his arm.

“Fish, come on cabrón, we don’t have time for this.” Pope looked extremely annoyed, but Frankie just covered his face with his hands and groaned.

“Just leave me here,” he said, low and muffled by his palms.

Pope started pulling at his arms. “No fucking way, man, you promised. We promised. And I promised I’d make sure you show up. Get the fuck up and in the shower, asshole.”

Frankie groaned again and threw his arms out like a starfish on the bed. “I’m so fucking tired, man.”

Pope paused and looked down at him, eyebrows furrowed. He sighed and shook his head. “More Dreams?”

Frankie closed his eyes and tried not to make any kind of face at all. “I feel like I close my eyes and that’s all I get – the Dreams. It doesn’t matter how tired I am or how long I’m asleep.”

Pope put his hands on his hips and just looked down at him for a moment. Frankie looked back at his best friend and hoped Pope couldn’t read everything going on in his head.

“You know what that means, Fish.” Pope’s tone was flat, no nonsense, like he didn’t want to leave any room for argument.

Frankie barely let him finish before protesting. “No.”

“Fish–”

“No, man. You know how I feel.”

Pope sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I do. And you know how I feel about that.”

Frankie just closed his eyes and shook his head. “Look, man, I’ll get up and get ready. But I don’t want to talk about it.”

Pope eyed him for a minute and looked like he might want to argue. But then he seemed to deflate and just put his hands up in front of him, palms out. “Ok ok, ya entendí.” He sighed again and turned away from the bed. “Get up, Fish, we have places to be.”

Frankie laid there for another minute, staring up at his ceiling. He’d told the guys he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, but that didn’t mean he’d been able to stop thinking about it.

He used to have a Dream every other month, sometimes less. For the last 3 weeks he’d been Dreaming every night. Every single fucking night.

He knew what that meant. They all did. It was textbook – you had the Dreams if your soulmate was still out there, and they only got more frequent when you were about to meet them.

The only problem was, he didn’t want to meet her. Not anymore.

…

Twenty minutes later Frankie threw himself into the passenger seat of Pope’s truck and tugged his hat down low over his still-wet hair. “Let’s go then,” he grumbled.

Pope rolled his eyes as started the car. “You better not walk into that party with that look on your face. It’s for Benny, man, come on.”

Frankie groaned and tucked his head against the window. “I know, ok? Shit. I know.”

Pope drove in silence and Frankie did his best to pull himself together. He felt like he’d barely slept, even though he was pretty sure he’d been asleep for most of the day. Like most of his days, lately. Just when he was starting to really stew in his own self-loathing, Pope spoke again.

“Fish. I know you don’t want to hear it. But I’m going to say it one more time, and then we can talk about something else and try to have fun at this party, for Benny’s sake. Deal?”

Frankie gritted his teeth and crossed his arms, but nodded.

Pope’s tone was gentle, and it made Frankie want to jump out of the car. “She’s still out there, man. And I know you think she won’t want you, but that's not how this works. Ok? All I want is for you to think about that. Just–” he stopped and for a minute Frankie thought maybe that was it, he was done and Frankie was off the hook. But Pope continued, “just try to think about the other side of it, ok? The side where you’re wrong, and she does want you. Just let yourself consider it. That’s all I ask.”

Frankie thought about arguing, and then he thought about saying nothing. After a moment he just said, “I’ll try.” Because if Pope asked, he would. He didn’t think it would help, but they’d been friends (brothers) for too long and they knew each other too well. He knew Pope would bother him about this until he agreed, anyway.

And some small, hidden part of him still hoped Pope was right.

…

They’d promised to get there early and help set up, and despite Pope almost tossing him out of bed, they were still on time.

Frankie spent the next couple of hours setting up tables and chairs and hanging string lights and generally doing whatever Will told him to do. He pretended not to notice Pope and Will and Benny having quiet conversations at the other end of the yard, conversations that were almost certainly about him and his Dreams.

He also spent that time trying to think about anything other than what Pope had asked him to think about in the car.

Soon enough, the yard started to fill with familiar and unfamiliar faces. Yovanna arrived with Claire, Will’s soulmate, and told them Benny’s fiance (and soulmate) would be arriving soon.

Frankie found himself floating along the edge of the party, hiding in the shadows from the string lights, sometimes with his friends and sometimes alone. He was starting to wonder if he could get away with leaving when Claire appeared beside him, arm-in-arm with someone he didn’t know.

“Frankie! Have you met my friend Sunny? The one I told you about, we were roommates in college.”

Frankie turned to greet them and was struck with a sudden sense of overwhelming deja vu. He shook it off and met her eyes. “Hi, I’m Frankie,” he said, nodding to Claire’s roommate. “Sunny?”

She smiled, and Frankie blinked, a bit taken aback. Shit, he thought, she’s so pretty.

“Not my real name. It’s a college nickname I’ve never been able to escape.” She grinned at him, and he took a deep breath. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said and elbowed Claire. “All of you, really. Will’s got a lot of stories.”

Frankie grimaced, but tried to turn it into a smile. “From Will? Shit. Don’t believe a word he says.”

Claire laughed and Sunny smiled, and Frankie took a long sip of his beer. It was warm, likely had been for a while, and he tried not to grimace again.

“Hey, Frankie, can I leave her with you? I need to help Will with something inside.” Clarie was already starting to move away towards the house as she spoke, and Sunny rolled her eyes.

“What am I, your dog? Go inside, I can fend for myself.”

Claire laughed again and waved as she headed inside.

Frankie turned back to Sunny and found that she was already looking at him. He tried not to stare but he couldn’t help but notice again how pretty she was. He was admiring the color of her eyes when she spoke.

“So,” she said, leaning towards him. “I hope you don’t mind me being extremely direct, but you don’t look very happy to be here.”

For a moment Frankie had the uncanny sensation of teetering on the edge of some sort of revelation, but unable to tip over in either direction and figure out what it was. He was stuck, balancing, wavering back and forth. It was disorienting. He shrugged. “Yeah, sorry, I don’t know if I’m good company. Haven’t been sleeping well.”

She looked at him thoughtfully, and Frankie squirmed a bit under her discerning gaze. “Me neither, actually. Stress, I guess. I just moved here and I’m still getting used to everything.”

He nodded, not sure what to say. His eyes trailed over her neck and shoulders and he tried not to notice how nice she looked in her top.

She took pity on him and changed the subject. “So, Frankie? Is that a nickname?”

“It is. Francisco,” he offered, relaxing his shoulders purposefully. He could at least try to be friendly.

Sunny’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I love that. Do you ever go by Francisco?”

Frankie actually felt himself start to smile. She was so animated; her open curiosity was starting to put him at ease. “Sometimes,” he said, looking down and then back up to meet her eyes. She was still smiling at him. “More in Spanish.”

“Francisco,” she murmured again, and he felt a shiver move down his spine. “Do you have a preference?”

He shrugged again. “Not really. Most of them,” he gestured around the yard, ”call me Frankie or Fish. Catfish. My call sign.”

She smiled again and nodded. “I’m not going to ask, not now anyway, but I just want to register my interest in hearing that story some time. Will refused to tell me.”

Frankie laughed, and then he blinked in surprise. When was the last time he’d laughed? He wasn’t sure.

“Can I call you Francisco, then? I like it.” She bit her lip after she asked, and Frankie realized he was taking too long to answer because he was staring. Again.

“Oh, um, sure,” he said, and then tried not to wince at himself. “Of course. It sounds nice when you say it.” He grimaced as soon as the words left his mouth – what the fuck, man, don’t be weird – and glanced down, afraid to see how that awkward comment landed. He noticed they were both holding empty drinks.

“Can I get you a refill?” he asked, reaching out for her cup. He didn’t quite look up to meet her eyes again. She nodded and reached out to hand it to him.

As she did, the tips of their fingers brushed lightly against each other.

Frankie gasped, and he was pretty sure he heard her gasp, too, but he couldn’t look away from her hand. As soon as his fingertips brushed hers he was overwhelmed with the sensation of something like lightning crackling down his spine. He froze, fingers still touching hers, arm outstretched. His mouth dropped open as the aftershocks sent tremors through his body.

Finally, he tore his gaze upwards to look at Sunny again, and found her outright grinning. At him. She looked absolutely delighted. He didn’t know what to do or what to say or what face to make.

Sunny broke the silence to ask, “did you feel it, too?”

Rather than answer, he turned around and ran.

…

For a moment you stood, frozen, hand still outstretched holding your empty cup. Your smile had frozen on your face and you felt it start to become a grimace. You don’t know how long you would have stood there, nothing but white noise in your head, if Claire hadn’t reappeared at your side.

“Hey, you ok? Where’s Frankie?”

You shook yourself and blinked, dropping your hand down to your side. You turned to look at her and she must have seen something in your expression because her brow furrowed and she grabbed your elbow. “Come on, over here.”

Claire marched you around the side of the house to the path that led to the gate in the fence. There was no one else back there, and you felt your shoulders drop as soon as you were hidden from view.

“Ok, what happened,” she said, flat, barely a question.

You sighed, staring down at the ground. “You were right? He is totally my type. Tall, with the hair and the shoulders and, ugh.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Claire cross her arms and lean against the wall next to you. “Ugh what? Did he say something? I mean, I wouldn’t have expected it, but he is a guy.”

You laughed, helplessly, and shook your head, glancing up at your friend. “He didn’t say anything weird. But um, just now. I don’t think I imagined it– no, I didn’t imagine it. It happened, I guess, but–”

Claire’s eyebrows flew upwards. “Wait–”

You kept talking, looking back down at the ground, steamrolling over whatever she wanted to say. “Our hands, well our fingers, touched, and I think… I’m pretty sure. I felt it.”

Claire made a strangled noise and you looked up at her to find her mouth dropped open in shock. “It? You mean–” she cut herself off, speechless.

You nodded. “Yeah, I mean, you can tell me if I’m wrong, but it was like a lightning strike all through my body. My spine tingled. I thought I was shaking, or maybe the ground was. It was…” you trailed off, searching for the right words. “I’ve never felt anything like it.”

Claire started to smile and you wanted to smile back, but you couldn’t. “Yes!” she said, grinning, “that’s exactly what it was like when I shook Will’s hand.” She seemed to notice you weren’t smiling, though, and hers started to fade. “Wait, but Frankie– where did he go?”

“He, um,” you started, gathering yourself. “He looked at me, and I know I was smiling, but he looked–” you cut yourself off, closing your eyes against the memory. “He looked terrified, Claire. Like he’d seen a ghost. I asked him if he felt it, too, and then,” you swallowed, trying not to let the emotions you’d been ignoring since it happened claw their way up your throat. “And then he ran.”

You opened your eyes after a moment of silence with no response from Claire. You saw that she was moving through a variety of emotions, jaw working as she considered what to say.

“Ok,” she said. “Ok. I think–” She shook her head, sighing in exasperation. “I think I know what’s going on. Can you wait here for one second? I need to grab someone.” You nodded, confused. “Don’t go anywhere, seriously. I’ll be right back.”

Before you could even open your mouth she was gone, back around the corner of the house into the backyard. You blinked, uncertain. You leaned harder into the wall of the house and pressed your palms into your eyes, trying not to think of anything but your breathing. Trying not to think about how long you’d waited for this, about how Claire knew you’d been starting to lose hope, though you’d hoped you might find him in your new city. About how you wanted, so badly, to know him.

Only a few minutes (of you resolutely not thinking about anything) had passed when you heard Claire coming back, talking to someone in a low voice.

“You have to tell her, Santi, you know–”

You opened your eyes again and found Claire approaching you with one of Will’s friends, one you’d just met about 45 minutes ago. Santiago, or Santi. Or Pope, he’d said. He looked worried.

“Wait, Claire, what happened? You said–” he stopped short when he saw you waiting. He looked around for a second as if he expected someone else to be nearby. “You said Frankie–”

Claire shook her head, and gestured towards you. “Tell him what you told me.” Her tone was direct, no nonsense, but you bristled.

“What? Claire–”

Your friend took a breath and her expression softened. “Hey,” she said, “trust me, ok? He’s Frankie’s best friend. Just tell him what happened.”

You turned to Santiago and saw that he looked way more confused than you felt. You sighed. “Ok, well, I guess it couldn’t hurt.” You bit your lip and crossed your arms in front of you, feeling suddenly defensive. You hadn’t expected Claire to make you repeat it to someone you barely knew. “Frankie, he– we were just talking. And he offered to get me a drink, so he went to take my cup, and our hands–”

As soon as you said the word “hands” Santiago’s eyebrows flew upwards. “Sunny–”

You ignored him, unable to stop now that you’d started. “Our hands touched. Just barely, but enough. I felt it. You know. And, well, I thought he did too, but I looked up and he looked–” you closed your eyes again. You didn’t want to remember his face again, but it was all you could see in your mind. “He looked–”

“Terrified.” Santiago finished your sentence for you and your eyes flew open. He looked worried and annoyed and resigned, all at once. “Am I right? He looked scared.”

You nodded, mouth dropping open. “How–”

Santiago sighed and shook his head. “Goddammit, Fish,” he muttered. “Look, I wouldn’t say this to anyone but you. You know that, right?”

You nodded, again, not sure where he was going with this, but knowing, somehow, that he meant it.

Santiago grimaced. “Ok. Well, I’ll try not to say too much. But Fish, that goddamned idiot, convinced himself you would never want him. That he was better off not meeting you, because you’d turn him away. I tried to tell him but he won’t listen, he–” Santiago sighed and wiped a hand over his face. “Look, I know you just met, but I swear–”

“Why would he think that?” you asked, confused. You couldn’t imagine that there would be something about him that would make you want to leave before you even got to know him. These were his friends, right? They cared about him. You trusted Will, and obviously you trusted Claire. And you were pretty sure these guys knew everything about each other, from the stories you’d heard. (And you kept remembering the way Frankie’s eyes had looked when he smiled at you, before he’d run. So warm.)

“He, well, we all did something, and–”

Claire interrupted Santiago before he could say anything else. “She already knows about it, Santi.”

He whirled, mouth dropping open to stare at Claire. “What?” He sounded scandalized. “How?”

Claire shrugged, and glanced at you. “She was with me, that night, when Will agreed to go with you. Couldn't really hide it.”

Santiago looked completely shocked. “Um,” he said, mouth opening and closing again. “Well, shit. That’ll probably help, then, if you already know about that whole disaster.”

You nodded. You did already know about Colombia. Maybe not all of the details, but the general gist of things. Enough.

For a moment none of you said anything. You assumed they were just taking in the revelations of the last twenty minutes, like you. Your head was starting to spin.

Santiago cleared his throat. “Ok, well, can I assume you do want to talk to him? And you don’t want to leave?”

You nodded. If nothing else, you were sure of that – you wanted to talk to Frankie. Francisco. He was your soulmate. Your breath hitched – that was the first time you’d even thought the word in the privacy of your own mind. Shit. You stood up a little straighter, suddenly resolute – you knew what you wanted to do.

“Do you know where he is?” you asked, meeting Santiago’s gaze.

He nodded. “I saw him go upstairs, he’s probably hiding in the guest bathroom or something. And I drove him here, he can’t get away so easy.”

You squared your shoulders and nodded sharply, just once. “Ok. I’m going to find him.”

Santiago started to smile again, and Claire made a little squeaking noise as she covered her mouth with her hands. She looked excited. “Good luck. I’ll keep an eye on the door, ok?” Santi gestured towards the front of the house.

You nodded again and took a deep breath. “Thanks,” you said, turning to go and find your soulmate.

…

When you reached the upstairs landing, you faltered, suddenly unsure of yourself. Will and Claire hadn’t lived there long and you hadn’t even gotten a tour yet. There were 5 closed doors in the hallway, and you weren’t sure what to do next. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

He was your soulmate.

You opened your eyes again, brow furrowed, mouth serious. You were going to find him and you were going to talk.

You knocked lightly on the first door and opened it to find a guest bedroom. No Frankie in sight. The second door was a closet, and the third seemed to be Will and Claire’s bedroom. That left two.

Just then, you heard a noise from the room behind the second-to-last door. You moved towards it, silently. As you got closer you heard the low noise of a familiar voice, muttering, maybe talking to himself.

You’d found him.

Before you could second guess yourself, you knocked. “Frankie– Francisco. I know you’re in there.” You tried to sound confident but you thought your voice probably gave away all of your insecurities anyway.

There was no response, but you swore you could feel how he suddenly tensed on the other side of the door. You knocked again. “Francisco? Can we–”

The door suddenly opened under your knuckles, and your last knock caused it to swing inwards. You froze, hand in the air, and looked down to find Frankie sitting on the floor. He had his knees up with this head resting on one hand, the other still raised from where he’d just opened the door.

You met his eyes and saw that he looked… well. The first word that came to mind was distraught. You opened your mouth to say something, maybe ask what was wrong, say anything that might help, but he spoke before you could.

“Shit,” he said, and his voice sounded rough and gravelly. “Shit, Sunny, I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I just left you there, I–”

“Hey,” you cut him off, moving quickly to kneel next to him. “Hey, no, are you ok?” You reached out to touch him but faltered, unsure if you would be welcome. He hid his face in his hands again and you sat back on your heels.

“... no,” he murmured after a moment. “I don’t think I’m ok.”

You moved again, shifting enough that you could close the door behind you before sitting back against it. “Hey, you know you can tell me.” You tried to sound encouraging.

After a moment he sighed, and looked up at you again. You met his eyes and were struck, suddenly, with the knowledge that you knew those eyes. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t recognized them immediately, the moment you’d met him outside. You smiled at him. “Hey there, brown eyes,” you said, and he blinked. “I think I had a lot of dreams about you, recently.”

“Brown eyes?” He looked surprised.

You felt your face start to heat and you ducked your head. “That’s what I’ve always called you. In my head, anyway. It was always the only thing I could remember, when I woke up. That you had brown eyes. Not what they looked like. Just that they were brown.”

You glanced back up at him through your eyelashes and saw that he looked stunned.

After a moment, he said, “I remembered your smile.”

You felt it start to stretch across your face in response. “Yeah?” you asked, wondering if he remembered more than you did.

He nodded, starting to smile himself. It looked hesitant, and it was small, but it was still a smile. “Yeah, just– just the shape, the corner.” He glanced down at your mouth. “Just like that,” he whispered, eyes wide.

For a moment the two of you just looked at each other. You wondered if you were both looking for other familiarities, things you might remember, even though it was unlikely.

You felt the question crowding your throat, and couldn’t help but let it out. “Why did you run?” Your voice sounded small to your own ears and you watched the grimace form on his face in response. You turned towards him a bit more and your leg came to rest against his. Neither of you moved away from the contact.

He stared at the place your leg touched his as he answered. “I thought…” he trailed off and visibly gathered himself. “I thought you wouldn’t want me. There’s been– there are things, things I’ve done and I didn’t–”

You couldn’t help but interrupt. You didn’t like the look on his face, didn’t like the way he was talking about himself. “Francisco,” you said, voice a bit too loud. You cleared your throat and tried again, quieter. “I know about Colombia.” His head shot up, eyes wide. He looked afraid and you didn’t like that one bit. “I’m not saying I know everything, but I do know the basics. I know you were there.” Frankie’s mouth dropped open; he was obviously shocked. You wanted to reassure him, but you weren’t sure what to do, other than to just say it. “I’m not turning you down because of that, ok? I’m not turning you down at all. I–”

Frankie seemed to find his voice, suddenly, and interrupted you. “What? You– how?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I was with Claire, when Will went. She couldn’t really hide it.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, eyes dancing over your face. He seemed to be looking for something, but you didn’t know what. “Fuck,” he repeated.

“Yeah, “ you repeated. “I mean, like I said, I know I don’t know all the details. But I’m not– I want to get to know you.” You nudged his leg with yours. “I mean, if you–”

Frankie laughed, suddenly, and you stopped short. He seemed giddy, like a weight had just lifted off his shoulders. He sat up a bit taller, and your eyes trailed over the line of his neck. “I thought–” he laughed again, incredulous, and shook his head. “I was so afraid. Of finding you and losing you because of– because of what we–” he trailed off again.

You couldn’t stand just sitting there anymore. You reached out a hand and lightly touched the back of his where it rested on his leg. He immediately flipped it over and clasped your hands together tightly. Your breath caught, but you couldn’t look away from his face.

“That’s not–” he squeezed your hand. “That’s not everything. But damn, I can’t believe it.” He closed his eyes and seemed at a loss for what to say next, even though he looked so much more at ease than he had only moments ago. You knew it was too soon for either of you to start in on your entire life stories. You had time. Or at least you hoped you had time.

“Hey, Francisco,” you said, and smiled at him. He opened his eyes and smiled back, a bit bigger this time. You liked the look of it. “I know we don’t know each other. Not yet. But, well. I think we might be made for each other.” You heard and felt a tightness in your throat as you said it, and you watched some strong emotion take over Frankie’s expression, too. He relaxed his grip on your hand only to lace your fingers together instead. He nodded, and you continued, “so I think we might be able to figure this out. Together. What, um,” you leaned in a little bit. “What do you think?”

Frankie grinned, suddenly, and it dazzled you. Your eyes caught on the crinkles by his eyes and the way he lifted his chin.

“I’d love to figure this out with you, hermosa,” he murmured. He pulled your hand upwards and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I’m sorry I ran away. I promise I’ll never run from you again.”

You shivered at the kiss, but your brow furrowed at the promise. “Frankie–”

He shook his head, looking resolute. “No, you deserve better than that. I promise, I’ll figure it out with you instead of running. Ok? We’ll do it together.”

You nodded, closing your eyes as you felt emotions swell in your chest again. He was so sweet, underneath the fear and the worry. Together sounded pretty good.

“Hey, Sunny,” he murmured, and you opened your eyes to meet his. His gaze was soft, again, like it had been when you’d barely started flirting outside. You thought he might still be afraid, but something had shifted. “Have I told you already that you’re fucking beautiful?”

Your cheeks heated and you tried to duck your head again, but you were stopped when he raised his free hand to cup your cheek gently. He lifted your gaze to meet his again. “Hey, no. I mean it. When I saw you outside, shit, Sunny, you’re so fucking pretty. That’s the first thing I thought.” Your cheek tingled under his touch and you wondered if you were imagining it or if it was part of the whole soulmate thing. Soulmates, you mused, and turned your head to press a kiss to his palm.

He sucked in a sharp breath, and you smiled.

“I told Claire you were exactly my type,” you said, and he started to look shy, eyes darting away. “With your hair, and those shoulders, and your smile–” you trailed off when he started to blush, and you smiled again, leaning into his hand. He was so handsome. “Hey, Francisco,” you said, and he met your eyes again. “Can I kiss you?”

His eyebrows flew upwards and his eyes darted to your lips. You bit your lip.

“Hermosa, you can kiss me anytime you like,” he murmured, and when his gaze met yours again your breath caught at the heat behind his eyes.

“Yeah?” you breathed, and he grinned.

“Yeah, Sunny. C’mere,” he pulled you towards him and you found yourself perched on his lap. After only a moment’s hesitation you slid your hands around his neck loosely. He placed his hands on your hips and squeezed gently. “S’this ok?” He sounded shy again, even though his grip was anything but.

“More than,” you replied, and then you pressed your lips to his.

You were swept away, instantly. You fell into the sensation of his lips against yours, of his body under you, of his hands sliding around your waist to pull you in tighter. You realized your hands were wound through his hair, though you didn’t remember moving them.

All you knew was the gentle movement of his mouth against yours. The brush of his lips and the tease of his tongue sent shivers up and down your spine.

There was a warmth building inside of you that you’d never felt before, never even dreamed of. You broke away with a gasp, overwhelmed, and blinked your eyes open to find his waiting for you. He looked as stunned as you felt.

“Fuck,” you murmured. He nodded. “That was–”

“Better than I ever could have imagined,” he said, and you nodded. That was exactly right. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he murmured. He ran his hands lightly up and down your back and you shivered again. He smiled. “Sunny,” he said, and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Let me take you out.”

You grinned and nodded. “You’d better.”

Frankie laughed, looking so much more carefree than he had when you’d found him in the bathroom. It tugged at your heart.

“You can take me out,” you said, “but right now I want you to kiss me some more.” You leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, right where it quirked up into a smile.

“Sunny, hermosa, mi sol, mi luz,” he said, pressing kisses along your jaw between each endearment. “I never want to stop kissing you.” You giggled, and he grinned. “What’s so funny, hermosa?”

You shook your head, still smiling widely. “I can’t wait to get to know you, Francisco.”

His smile softened, but stayed just as big. He tugged you closer and wrapped you up in his arms. “Me neither, baby.” He kissed you again, and you sank happily into his embrace.

...

a/n: I'd love to hear what you think! Also, quick translation: mi sol = my sun, mi luz = my light.

tag list: @harriedandharassed @jupiter-soups @ilovepedro @auteurdelabre @anoverwhelmingdin

@myloveistoolittle @iknowisoundcrazy @beezusvreeland @screechingphantommaker @bigboiseason123

@joelalorian @untamedheart81 @ashleyfilm @jessthebaker @jeewrites

@fluffygoffpanda @paleidiot @mithicakurogo @theclairvoyage @lizzie-cakes

@islacharlotte @syd-djarin @copperhalfcent @vabeachazn @spacedoutdaydreamer

@littlevenicebitch69 @secretelephanttattoo @pigeonmama @vickie5446 @sunnytuliptime

@glizzymcguirex @verymiraclemiracle @friskispunk @jennaispunk @darkheartgatita

@brittmb115 @bunniboo0015

(if the tag didn't work check your tumblr settings)

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fic #triple frontier fic #x reader #do you feel it too fic #SummerLovin24 #pedro pascal fanfiction

224 notes · View notes

antiquarianfics · 3 days

Text

Accidental pt. 4

What happens when you accidentally kidnap the exact man you were looking for?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

warning(s): canon level violence, kidnapping, profanity

a/n: it’s my birthday, so let’s celebrate with their date 🤭

You do not have permission to copy, translate, or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

part 3

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

"Oh, and one more thing," you say, catching the man's attention before he gets back into the SUV. He raises an eyebrow, you smirk. "Tell James he better damn well bring flowers."

—

You sigh as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, smoothing out your blouse. You turn to the side to see the back of your outfit and straighten back out again.

“You’re wearing pants to a fancy date with a crime lord?” Ellie asks, judgement lacing her question. You turn and raise an eyebrow at her, crossing the room to find the loafers you planned to wear.

“Yeah. Problem?” You ask, not really caring about Ellie’s opinion of your date attire. After all, it’s really more of a business transaction than a date.

“Yes! He’s probably expecting a dress, heels! Something low cut! You’re supposed to look sexy! You,” she pauses, gesturing to your body with an exasperated hand motion, “look like a JCPenney commercial.”

You scoff, a smirk teasing your lips. “Ellie, I don’t care. First of all, I can run a hell of a lot easier in loafers than heels, in slacks than a dress. Second of all,” you pick up your handgun where it lie on your dresser and check the safety, “I can’t hide this as easily in a dress.” Once you’re satisfied the safety is on, you tuck the gun away in the back of your pants, pulling your blouse back down over it. You look in the mirror again and fiddle with the tucking.

“Should I French tuck this?”

“Yes,” Ellie says distractedly before continuing. “But, Y/N, this guy is dangerous. You should play it safe. It’s just a date, so be who he obviously wants you to be.”

You sigh, turning back around to look your sister in the eyes.

“Ellie,” you say, tone dead serious. “Why are you so afraid of him? What did he do to you?”

Ellie blanches and doesn’t say anything. You sigh again turning back around to the mirror to fiddle with your hair, making sure it’s out of your face.

“I never saw him,” Ellie says suddenly. You watch her through the mirror where she sits on your bed staring at her hands. “I never saw him,” she starts again, “but I don’t think I was important enough for him to spare me his attention.

“I was at home making dinner when his men came for me. There was knock on the door, and when I answered, they stuck a bag over my head. Next thing I knew, I was in a dank, small room. There was a mattress on the floor for me to sleep, a toilet. Nothing else. I was there for maybe two days before someone came for me. I was taken to a conference room. There was a man there. I forget his name, but he was tall. Blond. He asked if I knew why I was there, I said I did, and he asked if I had any way to repay what I owed.”

“What did you owe?”

“750,000 dollars.”

“Ellie! How do you—? What? How?” You’re shocked, unable to comprehend how your baby sister could owe anyone so much.

“I… I met this guy, Zemo. We were just friends, but he started taking me around his friends. His friends hung out in these speakeasy type clubs. They played poker and stuff. I don’t know. I usually just watched, but after a few times, they talked me into it. Told me it was easy money, and, Y/N, I needed the money! So, I played, and I was doing really well. So I kept playing long after Zemo and his buddies left. I made so much down there, but I got too cocky and I lost an all-or-nothing. I played again to try and win it back, but it was like I’d lost my mojo, like I’d been playing on beginner’s luck.”

“Ellie,” you say sympathetically.

“I was $750,000 in debt and I couldn’t pay it, but the man I’d lost to—I think he felt bad—he said I could have 72 hours to get him his money. If I didn’t get him the money in time…” She trails off and you realize you’re clenching your jaw. You consciously unclench it. Ellie takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly. “He said if I didn’t get the money to him in 72 hours he would just have to find another way for me to pay him back. I don’t really know what he meant by that.

Anyway, the blond man asked if I could repay the money. I said no. He looked… sympathetic? He told me I’d have to go back to the cell until they could find use for me. I was there until they brought me home.”

You sit next to her on the bed, circling your arm around her. “Elle, I’m so sorry. I wish you’d come to me for help. I would’ve helped.”

“You don’t have that money, either. Plus, you are helping.”

“I guess.”

“What time is it?”

“6:30.”

“Are you nervous?” Ellie asks.

“I accidentally kidnapped the most powerful man in the city and threatened his life, sis. I’m not nervous at all,” you say sarcastically.

Ellie opens her mouth to respond but is cut off by the ringing of your doorbell and a knock on the door. The two of you exchange a surprised look and you double check your watch: 6:34.

“He’s early,” you say, standing as you take a deep breath and try to swallow your nerves.

“Hey, you’ve got this. I know it,” Ellie reassures you, but she makes no move to follow you as you leave the room and go to make good on your end of yours and James’ bargain. You’re settling her debt and she makes no further move to support you.

You sigh as you reach the front door, swallowing your nerves and the tiny bit of resentment for your sister forming. Swinging the door open, you come face to face with the same man you had kidnapped and assaulted the day before: James Barnes.

James is looking around him when you open the door, but his attention is immediately on you as the door opens. His striking blue eyes meet yours, take in your person, and meet your eyes again. He grins.

“You look beautiful, Doll,” he says. He sounds breathless, completely blown away. You give him a questioning look, still so unsure of his motives.

“Thank you. You clean up nice. Not being tied up to a chair suits you,” you say. Your words come out funny. The ‘thank you’ sounds somewhat genuine but the compliment comes out somewhat strained, like you’re not sure you should be saying it.

James ignores your tone and lets his grin widen. He then takes a hand out from behind his back—you hadn’t even noticed his hand was behind his back—and hands you a bouquet of blue hyacinths. You just stare at them for a while as your brain attempts to catch up with your eyes.

“You actually brought flowers.”

“You threatened me again,” he teases.

“James, I…” You trail off, speechless. You wonder how you keep getting away with threatening him. Most people would be, at best, locked away, at worst, dead.

“Bucky.”

“What?”

“My name,” he says, “is Bucky.”

You let your eyes trail from the hyacinths up to his eyes (you can’t help but notice they’re the same color), and you think that he looks shy—timid. James—Bucky—looks like he is nervous to ask you to call him by this other name.

“Bucky?” You ask, and, against your better judgment, as you ask it, you pull back your front door and step aside, inviting him into your home. He looks equally surprised you’d do such a thing, but he enters, taking a few steps into the corridor before pausing to look around and to wait on you. You close the door behind you and lead him to the kitchen where you pull out a vase for the flowers.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s—erm—a nickname. It’s what my friends call me.”

“We’re friends?” You ask skeptically.

“Well, no, but we’re going on a date. ‘James’ is just a little formal,” he says, wrinkling his nose at his own name.

You offer him a friendly smile (which surprises you). “Well, Bucky, you’re lucky I’m ready because you’re, like, half an hour early.”

Bucky has the decency to look embarrassed, but he ignores the accusation. “Well,” he says instead, “shall we go?”

You nod and follow him out to his car. Once you make it to the vehicle, Bucky opens the car door for you, carefully shutting it behind you. He takes his spot in the driver’s seat a moment later.

You let out a breathy laugh and he side eyes you as he starts the car.

“What?”

“Nothing! I just sort of expected you to have a driver. You’re just… surprising.”

He smiles at your admission. “Careful, Doll. Someone might think you like me.”

“Doubtful.”

It’s not a long drive to what is certainly a high class establishment—an establishment nicer than any you’ve been to before. Bucky gets out of the car, rushing to let you out. As you get out of the car, he offers his keys to the valet and his arm to you. You glance briefly at his arm and give him an annoyed look as you loop your arm through his.

Bucky escorts you to the double glass doors that lead to the restaurant where a doorman waits to open the door for you. You say “thank you” as you pass and Bucky gives you an unreadable look. Then, once inside the restaurant, Bucky whispers something to the host who nods and leads you towards the back and up some stairs that lead to a glass enclosed landing where two guards stand on either side of the door leading to the rooftop seating. Bucky lets go of your arm and steps forward as the male security guard mirrors him. The guard pats Bucky down, finds a handgun tucked away in a holster at his waist, takes it, and then allows him to step to the side so that you may take your turn.

Your breathing picks up ever so slightly as you watch Bucky get frisked, especially once you realize they’re going to frisk you, too. You start to worry when you realize they’re going to find a weapon on you—how is that going to play out? Will Bucky go back on his word? Will he kill you? Then, when they take away Bucky’s weapon, you remind yourself to breathe normally and regain some confidence. He brought a gun, too: he doesn’t trust you and you don’t trust him.

You step forward, making eye contact with Bucky the whole time. You hold your arms out ever so slightly as the female guard steps forward to frisk you. You raise an eyebrow—maybe you’re challenging him to do something—when the guard finds your gun and pulls it out of your waistband. She holds it up and offers you a “seriously?” look, which you see in your peripheral. You shrug at her, eyes still on Bucky. He’s smirking.

The two of you are then led by the host through the guarded door to a single table that sits on the balcony. The balcony has been well decorated with myriad plants and string lights. There’s soft music playing in the background. Bucky pulls out a chair for you and you sit, watching as he takes the seat across from you. The two of you just watch each other as the host offers you menus and promises a waiter will be with you soon. Once the host is gone, the two of you sit, watching, waiting.

“Lovely weather we’re having,” you finally say, picking up the menu. If he isn’t going to say anything, you decide, you’re going to play coy.

Bucky raises his eyebrows, letting out a laugh and looking away before returning is gaze to you.

“You brought a gun to our date,” he says.

“So did you,” you reply, still looking at the menu. “Is the chicken alfredo any good here?”

“What for?” He asks, ignoring the alfredo question.

You sigh, setting down the menu. “Why did you?”

“You held me at gunpoint the last time we met. How was I to know you wouldn’t try to finish the job?”

“I held you at gunpoint the last time we met, but I had you tied up. How was I to know you wouldn’t take the shot now that your hands aren’t tied?”

“We’re here because I already shot my shot.”

“Clever.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’ve given you every reason to.”

He laughs humorlessly. “If I wanted to hurt you, don’t you think I would have done it already?”

“Why am I here, James? Why don’t you want to hurt me? Aren’t you supposed to be some big, scary crime lord? Because you’re not living up to your name.”

Bucky clenches his jaw and looks away. You think you’ve maybe finally struck a nerve, finally gone too far.

“Have you ever once considered, Y/N, that maybe—just maybe—I’m a person, too? Did you ever think you were capable of threatening someone’s life until necessity made you?” You flinch. He notices. “I have a shitty job. I do shitty things. I do even shittier things to even shittier people. But it’s the job I was given, the job I have, and the job I do. Maybe I’m a monster, a freak, an emotionless robot, but maybe that’s just what I have to be so I don’t go crazy. At the end of the day, I’m just a man who wants to live his life, so forgive me for wanting to do that.”

Bucky is breathing erratically. He’s worked up. You stare, mouth slightly agape, surprised. You have a feeling he’s felt this way a while and never had the chance to voice it, but you also realize that your existence in his life might be more to him than just some girl who wants her sister back, some girl who extorted him.

“You actually like me,” you say, genuinely surprised.

He looks at you, eyes softening and looking a little embarrassed.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve got terrible taste.”

He laughs. “That so?”

“I never even introduced myself. You clearly only know my name because you know who my sister is and put two and two together. I’ve been terrible to you. I mean, I have my totally logical and understandable reasons, but I’ve been terrible.”

“That’s true, but I was holding your sister hostage. Not the best conditions. I’m sure she’s thrilled about all this.” He gestures to the table in front of you, the two of you.

“She recognizes I’m cleaning up her mess.”

Bucky looks at you, expression sad.

“Cleaning up her mess,” he repeats quietly. “You don’t have to do this,” he says, louder, more confident.

“What?”

“This date. You don’t want to be here. You’re not interested. I get it. You’re cleaning up your sister’s mess. You can just go,” he says, looking far off onto the horizon. “Don’t worry about Ellie. Her debt’s forgotten.”

You don’t move. You sit, you stare, you chew your lip, and you consider the man in front of you. You consider the handsome, powerful, sad man in front of you who—to your surprise—is genuinely interested in you. You make a decision.

You hear your chair scrape against the floor as you stand up and start to walk back towards the door. You take a few steps past Bucky, turn around, and walk back to the table. You stop right beside Bucky and hold out your hand. Bucky looks at your hand outstretched to him and trails his eyes up to you, and you watch as he carefully searches your face.

“Hi,” you say, smiling. “I’m Y/N. Mind if I join you for dinner?”

Bucky’s face breaks out into a grin as he takes your hand, grasping it firmly as he shakes it. “Bucky,” he greets, playing along. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

@cjand10 @vicmc624 @mostlymarvelgirl @livingoutsidethetardis @onceithough @thedonswife13 @kaithesimps-blog @buckitostan @julvrs @unaxv @searchn0tfound @10ava01

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #marvel x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky #mob!bucky #mob!au #mafia au

241 notes · View notes

hedwig221b · 3 days

Note

Do you have any fic recs that involve chasing? Like Derek gives in to the urge to run after stiles and catch him?

I kind of didn't really understand what you were asking lol so here are a few types of "chase" fics:

Mating Run Fics:

Wants & Needs by MadcapRomantic

Derek Hale has been participating in the Beacon Hills Mating Run for a decade, each year coming up without a mate. His mother, convinced this is his lucky year, persuades him to run one last time.

Enter Stiles, a young Omega with an unwanted Alpha nipping at his heels.

Family or not, Peter is determined to have Stiles. But convinced they are True Mates, there isn't anything Derek won't do to keep Stiles safe.

The Cursed Wolf by SinQueen69

2023 Suggestion Anon Wanted: Feral alpha Derek, who has been cursed and got in that feral state. The only way to lift the curse is the "sacrifice" of a pure heart. And Virgin Omega Stiles is willing to help him but the ritual has to be a mating run.

When Things Go Right by SylvieW

Stiles is nervous for the mating run. What if his soulmate is disappointed? Scott’s convinced that Allison will catch him, but Stiles isn’t so sure of his best friend’s girl, and the results could be upsetting for everyone.

Angel Choirs and Magic by LadyDrace

Derek has been very, very patient, and has shown frankly incredible self-control in the face of brutal teasing and flirting for two months. But now it's time for the mating run, and he's about to get his reward.

Except for how maybe it's actually Stiles getting a treat. Win/win.

Stiles gets kidnapped and Derek gives a chase:

Out of Focus by exclamation

Stiles was taken prisoner by a coven of witches. Now his only chance of getting home is if he learns how to control his own magic… and stops blowing stuff up by accident. With surging power inside him that he can't restrain, Stiles must deal with memories of the nogitsune, and fears that he might end up hurting those he cares about.

Meanwhile, his family and friends don't even know if he's alive. His father desperately searches for answers, and Derek will do anything in his power to find Stiles, even if it means asking an Argent for help.

of gods & monsters by Dexterous_Sinistrous

“I’m not the best at conversation. I’ve been told I have no finesse for it.”

Stiles took a step closer to Derek, pushing the billowing silk out of the way. “And what would you say if you looked at me now?”

Derek looked up, startled for a moment when he realized he was now looking at Stiles’ unveiled face. He was silent for a beat, taking in Stiles’ features for the first time, convinced he would never see such beauty unveiled for him alone.

Stiles runs away and Derek catches his ass:

between the click of the light and the start of the dream by thepsychicclam

A twig snaps, and then Stiles hears breathing and the rustle of leaves. He strains to get a better glimpse into the darkness, but it’s pointless. There’s nothing but a black void.

It's Stiles' senior year, and he's trying to concentrate on normal things - like the lacrosse championship, spring break, prom, graduation (and definitely not Derek) - when he starts having nightmares and waking up in the middle of nowhere. Oh yeah, and he's being haunted by a hag. Great.

My Wolf by Dexterous_Sinistrous

“If he wants to mate Stiles, why not let him?” Jackson asked, ready to part with Stiles if need be.

“Because if I did that, I’d be demoting Lydia,” Alpha Stilinski replied.

“We don’t even know how good of a Beta he is,” Lydia countered, bristling some that her status was being challenged.

“That’s because he’s not a Beta,” Alpha Stilinski stated. “He’s an Alpha.”

If you wanted fics with their own chasing scenes, I am sorry to inform you that I have a memory of a goldfish, and do not remember any in particular, though I am sure they exist somewhere in the wild. If someone knows some, please, feel free to add!

#sterek #sterek fic #sterek fanfic #eternal sterek #stiles x derek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sterek ao3 #sterek au #sterek fic rec #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fic rec #hedwig221b replies #derek x stiles

186 notes · View notes

minisugakoobies · 2 days

Text

Whipped | KMG

Pairing: Mingyu x GNReader (no agab)

Genre: fluff, idiots to lovers, slightly crack-ish, non-idol!AU

Rating: T

Warnings: Mingyu's a stubborn idiot, but he's also the softest human alive, Minghao's kind of a jerk tbh, use of they/them pronouns for reader, this is honestly just fluffy nonsense meant to give you warm fuzzies

Word Count: 3.9k

Disclaimers: Obviously I don’t own SVT - they just inspire me

Summary: No matter what his friends say, Mingyu is definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent not whipped for you.

A/N: Yep, another Mingyu fic. I can't help it. 🤷‍♀️

Unbeta’d as usual. If you liked this, please let me know! I’d love to hear what you think (but please be kind I’m fragile 🥺) 💕

SVT Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist

Kim Mingyu is not whipped.

This is what he forcefully reminds himself when you walk into Minghao’s party, looking sweeter than a spring day, a phrase which if he’s being honest is maybe a little more poetic than he’d normally use. That’s okay. He can be a little dramatic if he wants. Why not? Seokmin does it all the time and no one bats an eye.

In any case. Mingyu is not whipped.

That’s why he turns his head, pretending he doesn’t see you dazzle everyone around you with your beautiful smile. While he’s pretending, he also acts like he can’t feel his own lips tug upwards at the soft chime of your laughter, a Pavlovian response to your happiness. No, his smile is unrelated to whatever you’re doing. He’s just in a good mood, one that didn’t suddenly ascend to the heavens when you entered the room.

Mingyu’s not whipped.

He sinks further into the couch where he’s sitting, a little off to the side of where Minghao, Jeonghan, and Seokmin are talking. Theoretically, he’s part of the conversation, adding the occasional hum or laugh, but he’s really not contributing much of anything. He’s too busy thinking about you. Not like that.

(But not not like that, either.)

In any case, Mingyu remains firmly unwhipped - solid, unshaken, definitely not falling apart over you. He’ll be absolutely fine, as long as you stay on the other side of the room, where your charms can’t reach him. Except that he can’t stop watching you, and now you’re looking at him, and even though he averts his eyes, it’s too late. He can sense you walking towards him, his heartbeat increasing with every step you take.

Not. Whipped.

“Hey there, stranger.”

Instinctively, at the sound of your voice, he glances up at you, like a flower tilting its face towards your light. He nods at your greeting, mumbling a hello of his own. The others sitting around him all greet you as well, but you merely nod in reply, your full attention on Mingyu.

“Do you wanna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me?”

If Mingyu had a list of things he loved about you, which he does not, being straightforward would be near the top. Of this totally fictional list that does not exist. He admires it, actually, the way you have no patience for dishonesty or deception.

Even though your question is blunt, your smile remains soft as you wait for his response, and Mingyu rethinks his ranking. Item number one on that imaginary list - the way you smile, at him, specifically. It’s so warm, like being hugged by the rays of the sun itself. It makes him happier than he ever thought possible. He wants to curl up like a cat and bask in the feeling. If he’s not careful, he might start purring right now.

He’s totally super normal about you.

“Me?” he asks, stalling for time, praying that a somewhat reasonable explanation falls into his lap in the meantime. He’s only a fair-to-moderate bullshitter, so his hopes are low. He can feel the others staring at the two of you, very obviously listening, because no one in your friend group seems to respect boundaries. It’s not helping. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you chirp back, and he does, he knows exactly what you mean, just like you know exactly what he’s doing. “You’ve been ignoring my texts. What’s going on?”

What’s going on is that Mingyu is not whipped, even if it feels like his insides are turning to melty goo beneath your inquisitive gaze.

“I’m not ignoring you. I’ve just been busy,” he shoots, aiming for breezy and landing just shy of nonchalant.

“Busy doing what?”

“You know. Stuff.” Oh god, he really sucks at this. “And things.” Jesus Christ.

You fold your arms, and Mingyu thinks it’s cute the way you’re squinting at him, one eye closed as you assess his response. Unbearably cute, actually, and getting worse the longer it goes on.

“Yeahhhh, that’s not good enough,” you inform him, and with one hand on his arm (Mingyu ignores the electric current that lights up his nervous system when you touch him. It’s just static and definitely not anything else), you pull him to his feet and lead him out of Minghao’s apartment and into the empty hallway. He follows, not because he’d follow you anywhere, but because he’s curious.

Once the door is closed behind you, you turn to him, a serious expression on your face. “Gyu. Be honest with me.” Always, he thinks reflexively. “This is about what those guys said the other night, isn’t it?”

Of course you know exactly what it is that has his head spinning right now. The two of you have been friends for ages, but Mingyu still can’t get over how easily you always seem to read him.

A few nights ago, Mingyu and you had been out to dinner with a few others, and it had been like any other time you were hanging out with your friends, lots of laughing and teasing and just being happy dumbasses together. Only on this particular evening, the food had taken a very long time to arrive, but the drinks kept coming in the meanwhile, and you’d gotten a little drunker than usual, and a little clingier, sticking to Mingyu like a magnet.

Not that Mingyu minded having you hanging on his side all night. Nor did he mind keeping a close eye on you, making sure you were drinking your water and eating to help soak up some of the alcohol. None of that bothered him at all - you were his best friend; why wouldn’t he take care of you? Especially when you smiled at him and thanked him for being so sweet, so good to you, over and over.

(He can’t even begin to explain how that made him feel.)

The others noticed. And commented. Mingyu tried to ignore them, but they just wouldn’t shut up. By the time they joked that Mingyu was your trained puppy, suggesting you buy him a pretty collar and a leash to go with it, he’d had enough.

And when he tried to express that, Minghao had shut him down with a scoff, a wave of his hand, and one word.

“Whipped.”

Mingyu admits that he’s a lot of things, but he’s not a whipped man. He’s not. He’s not, no matter what the others say. No matter how you’re looking at him right now, concern etched all over your lovely face, lip tucked between your teeth as you wait for his answer. He’s strong. And proud.

(And maybe a stubborn idiot, but that’s neither here nor there.)

He considers just not responding at all, but he knows how persistent you are, so he settles for a half-shrug. You sigh, leaning back against the wall, arms crossing in front of you.

“You’re being ridiculous, you know that?” you say softly, shaking your head. “They were joking. They said so! And you know I didn’t take it seriously for a second.”

“You didn’t hear everything they said!” he protests, crossing his own arms. You’d missed most of the barbs flying his way that night, too busy enjoying yourself. Which weirdly made him happy. He hated the thought of those guys ruining your night. “They said I was your pet!”

“So? Jeonghan always tells Seokmin he’s got the zoomies when he gets hyper. He knows he’s not actually a dog! It’s just stupid jokes! Our friends are dumb!” you laugh, throwing up your hands. “That’s what we like about them!”

Mingyu can’t help it, he starts to laugh with you, but then he catches himself, shaking his head. “You don’t get it.”

“Then help me understand.”

How can he help you understand, when he’s not entirely sure he understands it himself, this storm inside him, clouding his mind?

“I…” He glances wildly around the hallway, but there’s nothing out here to help him. He can hear the bass from whatever song is playing inside the party, a low, steady thrumming that contrasts the erratic thumping of his heart. “I don’t like being called weak.”

You tilt your head. “Is that what they said?”

“Yeah. Or I guess… they implied it. When they said I was whipped for you.” He lets out a frustrated sigh, knowing he’s pouting and it doesn’t help his defense, but it’s just his default setting. “But I’m not.”

Because he’s staring into your eyes as he speaks, he catches it - the quick expression of sorrow that pinches your brow at his explanation - but it’s fleeting, gone in an instant. If he weren’t watching your face so intently, he would’ve missed it.

“Gyu,” you sigh, the corners of your mouth lifting in what is clearly meant to be a smile, except it doesn’t reach your eyes, and for a moment, the confusing tide of emotions inside him still, and he feels only sadness. That’s not how you smile. “Can you please let it go? Everyone was being an idiot. That’s nothing new! Besides…” You trail off, staring at the floor.

He waits a beat. “Besides what?”

You huff and shrug. “It’s nothing, forget it.”

The uncertainty in your tone unnerves Mingyu even more than your fake smile. Where’s that directness of yours?

“No, tell me. Besides what?”

With a deep breath, you look him straight in the eye. “Besides, I’m not delusional. I know you don’t like me like that. I’m not your type.”

Your voice grows quieter at the end of your sentence, just as the music coming from the other side of the door fades out, and to Mingyu, the silence only amplifies your words, leaving them ringing loudly in his ears like a sonic boom. You’re not his type?

He blinks rapidly, as if that will somehow help.

“You - you’re not - “ He pauses, searching fruitlessly for the end of his sentence, but it’s nowhere to be found.

“Right. I’m not.”

The laugh you let out sounds so fake that he winces, and a terrible realization hits him. You’ve taken his stammering to be a complete thought - a confirmation of what you’d said, that you aren’t someone he’d like like that. Curling in on yourself, arms wrapping around your stomach, you shrink away from him, only a few inches but the distance feels so vast.

“Let’s just forget about it, okay?”

Mingyu’s speechless. As his silence grows, so does the space between the two of you, until you’re standing by the door, hand on the knob. He feels like he should be doing something right now, snapping into action of some sort, but his brain is still stuck on your declaration.

“Okay,” he finally croaks, because it’s clear that you’re waiting for him to speak, and he doesn’t know what else to do but agree with you, because you’re usually right and he usually agrees with you.

“Right,” you say again, but you look slightly unsure, and it rattles Mingyu, making him feel even more unsettled than before. “Okay.” And then you open the door and slip back inside Minghao’s apartment.

Alone in the hallway, Mingyu slumps against the wall. Well. That was a spectacular failure. He’d tried to explain how their comments upset him and all he’d done was upset you. The shift in your demeanor was so obvious to him, a flashing neon sign basically screaming “you fucked up!” in blazing red light.

He gives himself a minute to try to pull himself together, then he returns to the party. As soon as he’s inside, he scans the room, until he finds you standing in the corner, hanging out with another friend, Chan, talking and laughing like everything is fine. Which, as Mingyu feels deep in the pit of his stomach, he knows it is not.

His previously vacated spot on the couch remains open, so he slips back into it, ignoring the curious looks of his friends. He doesn’t want to answer any stupid questions right now, doesn’t want to deal with any of their crap while he tries to wrap his head around what just happened in the hallway.

Naturally, his friends immediately start nosing into his business.

“What was that all about?” Minghao asks, turning to face Mingyu. Seokmin and Jeonghan both twist towards him, eager to hear his answer.

“What was what about?” Mingyu replies, eyes flitting to you again. Chan must be bringing his A game with his jokes tonight, because you’re giggling Mingyu’s favorite giggle, the one that makes your nose twitch like a little bunny’s. It always makes him swell with pride when he coaxes it out of you with one of his dumb jokes, so seeing it right now and knowing he’s not the cause of it, well, it’s not exactly helping improve his mood.

“What was that dramatic exit?” Minghao gestures towards the door.

“It was nothing. We were just talking.” Again he looks at you. And again, your attention is focused solely on the man beside you. Mingyu doesn’t understand. Can’t you feel him looking at you?

“Uh-huh. Sure,” Jeonghan drawls, miming the crack of a whip with his hand. Seokmin and Minghao crack up beside Mingyu, but he doesn’t care. He’s too busy trying to catch your eye. He wants to see you smile at him. Just one smile. That’s all he needs to make him feel better.

His friends lose interest in teasing him when he doesn’t respond, and the conversation moves on. As does the evening. Mingyu bonds with the couch, not leaving except to grab refills of his drink, but otherwise he’s a fixed point in this party, unlike you, who are constantly moving, floating from friend to friend, spreading joy across the room.

Spreading joy to everyone except him, that is. No matter how much he watches you, your light never shines on him again, not like it did earlier. He knows what this is. You’re the one doing the avoiding now. And oh my god does he hate it. He feels cold and lonely, withering away, dying for your attention. For your affection. Because he needs it to thrive.

Oh.

Oh wow, he’s stupid. The others are right.

Kim Mingyu is whipped.

For you, and you only.

Like it has been every few minutes since he returned from the hallway, his gaze is drawn back to you, and this time, it’s different. Because the mask you’ve been wearing all night finally slips, and Mingyu sees the wrinkle of your brow, and the slight downturn of your mouth, and he understands. You’re just as miserable as he is.

That absolutely will not do. He needs to fix this right now.

Mingyu rises to his feet again, not even waiting for Minghao to finish the story he’s been telling, not that he’s been listening anyway, and starts walking towards you. When he’s a mere arm’s length away, it occurs to him that he doesn’t have any plan, just an urgent need to make you look happy again. And also pay attention to him, because he needs your attention just like he needs you, so he panics, and grabs your hand.

You look at him in surprise as his fingers slip between yours.

“Come with me. Please,” he adds, a bit hasty in his anxiousness, already tugging you out of the room and into the hallway. A pair of voices follow you both out, as Minghao and Jeonghan both jeer loudly at the sight of Mingyu dragging you away, but thankfully the door drowns them out, letting only the beat of the music through. Which would be a good thing, except that now it’s just Mingyu and a very quiet you. With your hand still in his.

“Is everything o-”

“You are my type.”

You start speaking at the same time he does, but he’s louder, blurting his entire sentence out before you can finish yours. Your mouth freezes in an ‘o,’ and oh, Mingyu can’t believe what a dumbass he’s been for so long. How did everyone else see it but him?

“I just. Wanted you to know. That you are the type of person. That I like.” Why can’t. He complete. A whole sentence? “Smart, funny, gorgeous….”

You glance away from him, suddenly shy at that last word, and it just reinforces Mingyu’s point.

Unfortunately, it does not make it any easier for him to say what he’s trying to say.

“But you’re not just my type? You’re the person I like. Hao’s right. They’re all right. I am whipped for you.” He frowns. “Damn it, I hate it when Hao’s right.”

That makes you laugh, a quick “ha!” that makes your eyes light up, and Mingyu finds himself feeling stronger, so he doubles down. Might as well own it.

“But he did, he got this one right. I’m down bad.” He brings your entwined hands up, clutching them in front of him, maybe pressing his luck a little, maybe laying it on thick, but it’s barely an exaggerated version of the truth if it’s not pure simple fact.

“‘Gyu,” you groan, rolling your eyes, but there’s a twitch in the corner of your mouth that won’t cease, and it makes his heart sing. “Knock it off. I know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t think you do.” He takes a deep breath and steps forward, backing you into the wall behind you. Your hands are caught between you, and he presses the palm of yours against his chest, wondering if you feel the spike in his heartbeat when you inhale sharply.

“Maybe you should tell me,” you say, eyes wide but voice calm, and again, he marvels at how you strike straight at the heart of the matter, and he decides he can do the same.

“I’m telling you that I like you.”

The next few seconds are the longest in Mingyu’s life. Nothing has ever lasted this long in the history of time. Entire civilizations are built and fall within the blink of your eyelashes. You keep looking back and forth between his eyes, and he hopes that you see whatever it is you need to believe him, and tries his best to convey clearly what he feels. Even if he’s having trouble speaking his thoughts, at least his gaze can express it.

“You like me…”

He nods. “A lot.” Now that he’s said it out loud, it’s hitting him just how much.

“You like me…” you start again slowly, frowning slightly, “but you don’t like it when others point that out?”

“I just - “ Mingyu breaks off, a sharp puff of breath exploding out in frustration. How to explain it? “I didn’t like them saying it the way they did. It… it made me feel like they were calling me weak or something.” Your frown deepens and he stumbles on. “But - but that’s stupid, and I know it’s stupid. And I - I don’t care anymore.”

He clings to your hands, a lifeboat in a sea of turmoil, the warmth of your fingers locked between his giving him hope that this isn’t going completely downhill, this sudden confession of his. It’d be just like him to ruin this with his impatience. He’s always too eager.

“So what do you care about?” you ask, gaze burning into his.

And then there’s you. Always so calm and direct. God, he adores you.

“You. How you feel.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, you lower your eyes, in the briefest of glances at his mouth, and Mingyu feels that electric shock again, tingling all the way to his fingertips. He barely breathes as he waits for you to speak.

“If you really are whipped for me,” you finally say, “you should go tell them that.” You jerk your chin in the direction of the door.

If that’s what you want, then that’s what he’ll do. Without a second’s hesitation, Mingyu spins, his hand gripping yours to pull you back into the apartment with him.

Seokmin gawks openly as Mingyu stomps across the room. Minghao and Jeonghan exchange a glance that last night would’ve set Mingyu spiraling, but now rolls off him like water. Mingyu comes to a stop directly in front of his friends, squaring his shoulders, trying frantically to corral his thoughts into something coherent.

But before he can open his mouth, Minghao leans forward, placing his chin in his hand. “Shhh, guys, I think the puppy’s going to speak!”

“Hao, shut the fuck up.”

Minghao bristles when Mingyu snaps at him. Jeonghan and Seokmin both cackle, but then Mingyu glares at the two of them, and they fall silent. He takes a deep breath.

“I just wanted you to know that I don’t care what you guys say about me anymore, because I like YN.”

The words spill out of him so easily, not even the tiniest nudge needed. He glances at you to find you wearing a delighted expression and his heart goes buoyant again. He decides to ride the wave.

“They’re amazing. I’d do anything to make them smile, so if that makes me whipped, then I guess I’m fucking whipped.”

He’s facing you now, not caring if the others can see the obvious lovestruck look in his eye as he keeps talking, not to them, but to you. Aware that they’re probably all smirking at one another, because they figured it out before he did, but he doesn’t give a single goddamn.

“I can’t get enough of their smile. And the way they laugh. I like how sweet they are. How honest.” Mingyu can’t stop talking at this point. It’s all gotta come out. “But never mean about it. Even when it’s something you don’t want to hear. Especially when it’s something you need to hear.”

Your hand twitches in his with every sentence he states. He squeezes back gently as his statements get louder.

“I’m not kidding when I say I’d do anything to make them smile. I’d walk the ocean floor for them. Climb a volcano and surf the lava down barefoot. Capture a star fr-”

“Oh my god, we get it, you like them!” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “Enough with the bad poetry.”

“Also? We know.” Minghao snorts. “No need for the dramatic announcement, it’s not news.”

Mingyu barely hears him, too lost in the way you’re smiling at him now. Forget his earlier rankings. This smile beats all the others. Shoots directly to the top of the list, which, now that he thinks about it, he kinda wants to write down and give to you, maybe framed. Or maybe he’ll stick it on his fridge - with a heavy magnet, of course, because it’s such a long list.

He completely loses all interest in the rest of the room, even though he’s pretty sure most of the party is staring at the two of you. Instead, he finds himself hanging anxiously on the breath you take, hoping for you to say something, to give him an indication of where things stand between you now. Because he knows you’ll be straightforward and get right to the point, whatever’s on your mind.

You step closer, close enough for him to feel your soft laugh on his lips as you give him a look that sends his pulse rocketing. You’ve never looked at him like this before.

Forget a list. He’s gonna write a whole book.

“Come on, whipped boy. Take me home.”

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #mingyu #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #mingyu x reader #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #mingyu fluff #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #fic: whipped

388 notes · View notes

reiding-writing · 3 days

Note

oh em gee!! congrats on 1k babe, you deserve it!🤍 may i please request 1 and 20 from angsty prompts w spencer and reader who isn’t a profiler or anything like that🤗

WHAT ARE YOUR PRIORITIES?

/pɹaɪˈɔɹɪti/ /climacteric/

1. "Why don't you ever listen to me?" 20. "I don't know who you are anymore."

spencer reid x gn!reader | 1.8k | angst | climacteric m.list!

cw — non-bau!reader, big argument, no? happy ending

a/n — were these requests from 2 months ago? yes- i’m sorry 😭

main masterlist.

It’s past midnight when Spencer shuffles back into the apartment, Go Bag slung over his shoulder and his hand clamped against his side as he tries desperately to not make enough noise to wake you from his arrival.

“You’re home late,” He doesn’t have to bother. “Again,”

Spencer can’t really do much more than sigh as he dumps his bag by the door, pulling off his shoes and abandoning them to walk over to where you were curled up on the couch, presumably trying to wait up for him. “I’m sorry baby, I really am,”

He sinks himself into the couch beside you, reaching his arm over your shoulders to gently pull you into his side, wincing slightly as you lean your weight against him.

“Are you alright?” The sight of his face scrunching up makes you pull yourself from him slightly, and he nods his head dismissively as he tugs you back against him.

“I’m fine angel, just wanna hold you for a bit,” His fingers trace aimless patterns over the expanse of your arm as you sit in his hold, half resting against his side and half supporting your own weight so you didn’t trigger whatever injury he was trying to hide from you. “I missed you,”

You stay silent as Spencer presses a chaste kiss to the top of your head, only half present as you stare blankly across your living room with a small hum of acknowledgement.

“Angel?” He blinks down at you lazily, concern just barely simmering in his irises. “Are you okay?”

“Where were you?” Your question is laced with just as much tiredness as it is curiosity, and you accentuate it with a small furrow of your eyebrows as you turn your head against his shoulder to look at him. “The plane landed three hours ago,”

“I know I’m sorry,” He presses a fatigued kiss between your eyes. “I had some files to finish, and I didn’t want to bring them home, you know I don’t like—”

“Mixing work and home life I know,” You finish his sentence for him, but the sigh that you let out at the end of your interruption tells him that you’re not satisfied with that answer.

“I made you dinner, it’s in the microwave,” You let out another small sigh as you pull yourself from him to stand up. “I’m going to bed,”

“Wait—“ Spencer catches your arm as you begin to leave, face scrunching in discomfort from the exertion. “Can’t you stay up? Just for a little bit? It’s been almost a week since I’ve sen you,”

“I’m tired Spencer, we can— catch up in the morning okay?” You pull your wrist from his grasp with no real force, but Spencer can tell that it’s not just tiredness that’s making you less affectionate than usual.

“Baby…” Spencer sighs defeatedly as you pull yourself from him, biting the inside of his cheek. “I’m sorry,”

You sigh at his apology, shaking your head with your arms crossed over your chest. “I’d believe you if you meant it,”

“I do mean it—”

“No Spencer, you don’t, because you keep apologising and you keep doing the same things anyway,” Your voice is more hurt than accusatory, and it’s not really like Spencer can argue with you.

It was just a circular pattern. Make a mistake, apologise, make the mistake again, apologise. Over and over and over again with no real resolution.

“Angel I—”

“Why don’t you tell me how you got your injury hm?” You gesture towards his side with your hand. “Or the scrapes on your hands, or the bags under your eyes, or the reason you spent three extra hours in the office before coming home tonight?”

The look he gives you tells you not to go down that road, but you’re already too far gone to consider reeling it back in for his sake. You need answers for your own.

“You never tell me anything Spencer, I just want to be in the loop,” You sigh defeatedly, expression almost one of desperation.

“You why I can’t do that, it could—”

“What? Put me in danger? Leave me vulnerable? Well let me tell you something, you are putting this relationship in danger by constantly leaving me blind.” You’re on the edge of raising your voice as you shoot down Spencer’s defence. “You’re not ‘protecting’ me, you’re protecting your job, because that’s what’s more important to you,”

“I’ve never said that.” Spencer’s eyebrows furrow into a deep line at your accusation, a sharp shake of his head following his denial.

“You don’t need to,”

Spencer opens his mouth like he’s going to retort, to try and shut down your statement, but all it ends with is him clamping his lips together in a tight line, a sharp exhale leaving his nose.

“I never see you anymore Spencer, you leave before I wake up and you come home after I’m asleep,” There’s an air of hurt to your tone, an imminent defeat as you seemingly accept your fate. “I just want you to be here…”

“I am here baby, I’m right here,” He reaches out for your hand, his eyebrows once furrowed in agitation now knitted tight in concern.

“You’re not though Spencer,”You pull your hand behind you to stop him from reaching it, taking a small step backwards. “Even when you’re here physically, your mind is never with me, it’s always in that goddamn office,”

“That’s not true angel,” Spencer doesn’t stop his attempt to hold you as you pull your hand away, instead turning his efforts towards your shoulders instead, sliding his hands over the curves of your neck until he’s cupping your face. “My mind is always here, with you,”

You shake your head in his hands with what’s almost a pathetic laugh. “You’re lying to yourself,”

Spencer sighs.

Maybe he had his head stuck in his job, he needed to be, but there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t think about you, whether he was with you physically or not.

“I feel like I don’t know who you are anymore Spencer…” The defeat in your tone is almost heart breaking, and Spencer shakes his head quickly as he tilts your face upwards in his hands until your eyes are forced to meet.

“Hey, no, don’t say that okay?” He rubs his thumb over your cheeks through knitted eyebrows. “I’m still me, and I still love you, I love you so much,” He presses a kiss to your temple. “I’m just trying to keep you safe,”

You swear you could scoff.

“No, Spencer, you’re not listening to me,” You pull away from his grasp with your eyes narrowed in frustration. “Why don’t you ever listen to me?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose with an angered exhale, and concern wells in Spencer’s irises.

“You are constantly putting your job ahead of our relationship and you keep telling me that you’re ’trying to keep me safe’ but you’re not Spencer, you’re being selfish and trying to have everything all at once without a compromise.” You gesture outwardly with your hand. “You cannot expect me to just sit here and wait for you every time you go off on a case when you won’t so much as text me to tell me that you’re okay. A relationship requires communication from both sides.”

He doesn’t really have a response for that one.

He knows relationships require communication. He knows he’s not the best at at it. But he didn’t know that it was such an issue for you.

“I’m trying my best here,” Spencer sighs exasperatedly, dragging his hand down his face. “My job is very important, and I’m sorry that it means I have to focus on it more often but that’s what you signed up for when we got together,”

“Is your job more important to you than our relationship Spencer?”

He sighs. “That’s not what I’m saying,”

“But it’s what I’m asking.” You cross your arms over your chest. You hope he says no. You hope he means it.

“My job and our relationship our equally important to me,”

He couldn’t even lie to placate your feelings. How lovely.

“Well if your job is that important to you,” You pick up his discarded go bag from by the door and almost shove it into his chest, no regard for whatever injury he was hiding under his shirt in your mind. “I’m sure you’d be more than happy to spend the night with one of your coworkers.”

Spencer winces as the duffle bag meets his chest, catching it from hitting the floor as you let go with his expression scrunched up in a mix of frustration and disbelief. “You don’t mean that,”

“I’m the only one who means anything I say in this relationship Spencer.” You give him his shoes with the same lack of regard, a cloud of anger misting over the growing disappointment in the back of your mind. “I want you to leave.”

Spencer searches your eyes for hesitance, for the smallest inkling of uncertainty in your instruction, but there’s none to be found.

He slides on his shoes without another word, and you don’t even pay him a “goodnight,” before you shut the door on him, leaving him desolate in the hallway of his apartment building.

He wonders if this was how Hotch felt when he argued with Hailey, if there disagreements ended in the same way.

He wonders if an argument like that was what finally put an end to their marriage. He prays to gods he doesn’t think exists that it didn’t.

For his sake and for yours.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #asks 🫶#climacteric 🪶

353 notes · View notes

watchfuldeer · 2 days

Text

last night i went to a really fun and informal fundraiser evening with jesse and lucy at westminster school, where they were interviewing each other. i got to ask a question which i’ve mused upon for some time about tom, shiv and greg. enjoy! full transcript under cut

Transcript

me: so i’m gonna have to look at what i wrote down.

jesse: that’s alright, you’re highly in credit since you know more about the show than us. more about john berryman.

(laughter)

lucy: tell us what we’ve done wrong so far!

me: god, no. i wouldn’t! so my question, this is a character based question, and one thing that probably got a bit subsumed in the fourth season just because everything was happening. but i’d like to know more about tom and shiv, and also greg. because my read on the situation between the three of them is that greg is a source of marital strife (laughter) that shiv never noticed, and what would it have taken for shiv to notice the depth of greg’s presence in their marriage.

jesse: uh huh.

me: and tom’s attachment to him.

jesse: uh huh. sometimes you get little bits in life or you see something and you’re like, i wish we were making the show, because i suddenly do want to hear shiv say ‘greg you’re a source of marital strife’.

(laughter)

jesse: that’s like, when you’re like, that’s gonna be in, we’re not gonna cut that.

lucy: absolutely.

jesse: (doing greg voice) wh-wh-what?!

(laughter)

lucy: yeah. well we enjoyed that, didn’t we. we had a scene in america decides, which was the only scene between shiv and greg.

jesse: oh yeah.

lucy: the election episode in the final season where she takes him into a little room and threatens him.

me: ah, but it’s jealousy over lukas, over the greg and lukas thing, and it’s like, have you forgotten your husband, who is also very attached to this limpet?

lucy: yeah. i would also say that there are marriages in which a third party is not an unuseful thing, as well. not in a forgiving way about infidelity, but i would say that there are things that tom can express with and at and on greg (laughter) as it were, to greg, that are useful because he’s both a - you know the great, the interesting thing about tom is that he’s both a courtier and a bully. he’s that rare combination of someone who you totally believe as being almost like (mimes bowing and doffing cap) ‘oh yes sorry thank you yes ma’am’ and also like, ‘i’m gonna kill you’ and that juxtaposition is what makes him so interesting.

but in his marriage to shiv he has no real way, until quite late i guess in the final season, where we explore it, to hold power over her and to use that part of himself. so he’s accepted the acquiescing, he’s accepted the role of courtier in that marriage, and greg is quite a useful place where he gets to express all of that, the bully in him so that maybe it doesn’t have to come out in the marriage. which might be bad, because perhaps it should do and then the marriage would’ve ended much earlier, yknow, when shiv would just be like ‘i’m not dealing with you challenging me in any way’. so it’s not until that balcony scene i think where he really challengers her much at all. possibly the beach scene, where he sort of says that he’s considered leaving her, and how that would feel. but with aggressive challenge? it’s all directed at greg, and greg is allowed to be the place where all those feelings go.

me: but the affection - there’s also affection between them.

jesse: YEAH. and i think that’s the other thing maybe you’re alluding to is like, she… i think, some things you know you’re putting in the show because you talk about them and other things just naturally occur, and audiences and people tell you what the show is and what you put in there and you didn’t even realise, but i think we were aware of this - she’s oblivious. her obliviousness is a big part of her wealth and her upbringing and… so there’s something homoerotic going on between greg and tom.

me: i mean it’s not for me to say.

(laughter)

jesse: and does she… i think there’s two ways of reading that, either she’s oblivious, and that’s intriguing and possible. the other is that she sort of - there’s a scene in, you know that one, in the sun valley media conference in argestes, where we wrote a bit where shiv shows up unexpected and tom’s sort of flirting with someone, and it never really landed that much. i think we were like, oh this really gonna, shiv’s gonna spark up when she sees him flirting with someone. and it’s one of those things where you were like, you know what? i don’t think she gives a hoot, really, does she.

(laughter)

jesse: it’s like, she hasn’t got that, that’s not in her belly, that fear of loss.

lucy: no.

jesse: so i think that goes, that probably goes for a same-sex relationship or flirtation as much as it does for with a woman.

lucy: i think that’s true.

jesse: like she really… even if he was like - and this is not the way that tom would be like - ‘i think i’d like to sleep with greg’, i think she’d be like (mimes looking at watch) ‘when?’.

(laughter)

jesse: (as shiv) ‘not when i’m in the city, that’s weird, tom’.

(laughter)

jesse: i don’t think she’d have any fundamental objection to that.

lucy: that’s true. i think jealousy is quite a low status emotion.

jesse: yes.

lucy: and i think that she would struggle to feel it.

(jesse laughs)

lucy: even if it was present in some way, she would never be able to access it because it would put her too much at a disadvantage. so i think yeah exactly that, it would be like, ‘oh i guess you’re going to fuck that boring woman now are you, tom’ or do that, like… she has to be here (mimes one hand above another hand) so jealousy can’t really be accessed by her. so she might be irritated by greg, but in the way you would be by a mosquito.

me: to her detriment.

lucy: to her detriment, sure, ultimately yeah.

#succession #tomgreg #tomshiv #jesse armstrong #lucy prebble #sorry for the audio quality 😭#they didn’t have mics as it was a very small room and my phone could only pick up so much #lucy put forward the more traditional view of greg being tom’s emotional outlet #but credits greg to prolonging a doomed marriage that otherwise wouldn’t have made it over the first hurdle #i’d never really thought of it that way. greg is actually the third wheel of their marriage lol.#and it’s why the marriage finally goes off the rails when greg does like… usurp her #just by caring about tom #jesse’s answer made me laugh and i think it is probably true #she would feel bound to accept tom asking if he could sleep with greg #and as lucy says it’s because jealousy is beneath her to acknowledge

172 notes · View notes

stylesispunk · 9 hours

Text

'You gave me something to lose'

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: Joel is afraid of losing you.

wc: 4k>

warnings: angst, mentions of panic attacks, fluff. Messy writing cause this is an old draft.

a/n: this was on my drafts for so long so I'm posting this as a gift because I'm going to London for the next two weeks and I won't be very active on here. So once I return, I promise I'll write the pendant things and requests I have. I hope you like this one. Happy reading 💌

dividerers by @/saradika-graphics

Joel didn’t fear anything, not dying nor being alone or even broke.

Not the clickers, not darkness, but you.

when his mission to take Ellie to the fireflies became into caring for the teen, he felt panicked.

And when he learned he had fallen deeply in love with you, you gave him something to lose.

And he was frightened.

Joel had always been a fortress, walls built high and strong to keep out the pain and loss he had endured. But now, those walls were crumbling. Each moment he spent with you, each secret you both had shared, each tender touch, chipped away at the defenses he had so meticulously constructed.

Since the day Joel met you at the QZ in Boston, you had stolen something from him. He didn’t decipher what back then, but every time you weren’t on his sight, a knot formed on his stomach. Every time he caught a glimpse of you, his blood rushed into his cheeks.

And God, every single time you smiled at him, he could find a reason to keep surviving in this world, again.

And that’s why when you had decided to go after him, when he and Tess took Ellie with them to the fireflies. He had made up his mind, between the anger and tinted loved was feeling for you right at that moment, he had decided he was going to protect you more than anything or anyone. Even when you got on his nerves.

The journey to the fireflies was grueling. The roads were treacherous, infested with clickers and hunters. Every step was a battle, every night a gamble. But Joel was relentless. He led the way with a grim determination, always keeping you and Ellie close. The tension was palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the danger that lurked in every shadow.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the desolate landscape, you found a moment of respite. The group set up camp in an abandoned building, its crumbling walls offering a semblance of shelter. Joel, ever vigilant, took the first watch.

You approached him, the flickering firelight casting dancing shadows across his weathered face. He looked up as you neared, his eyes softening slightly. “You should get some rest,” he said, his voice a low rumble.

You shook your head, sitting down beside him. “I can’t sleep. Too much on my mind.”

Joel glanced at you, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, I get that.” There was a pause, a comfortable silence settling between you. “You know,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, “I never thought I’d feel this way again. Not after everything.”

You looked at him, searching his eyes. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve…” he paused, “Never mind.”

You furrowed your brow, sensing the weight of his unspoken words. “Joel, you can talk to me. Whatever it is, I’m here.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening. “It’s just… it’s hard to explain.” He paused again, just a few seconds, lifting his gaze up to yours “Why did you followed us three?” he asked.

The question caught you off guard, but you didn’t hesitate in your response. “I didn’t follow all of you. I followed you.”

“Why?”

“Because back in the QZ there wasn’t a life after you” you confessed, “Life sucks in there, but without you it would be worse.”

Joel’s eyes widened slightly, the vulnerability of your words hitting him harder than he expected. He stared at you, trying to process the depth of your feelings. “I never knew…”

“Of course you didn’t,” you interrupted softly. “You’ve always been so focused on surviving, on protecting Tess and yourself, that you’ve never stopped to see how much you mean to people. How much you mean to me.”

He shook his head, struggling to find the right words. “Good to know it because I feel the same about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, his admission filling you with warmth. "Joel..."

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “When I met you, I didn’t think I could care for anyone again. But you... you changed that.”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, but you held them back, not wanting to break the cosmic moment “I’m glad. Because I can’t imagine going through this without you.”

Joel reached out, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear that had escaped. “Now can you, please go to sleep?”

“Can I sleep here?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel’s expression softened, and without hesitation, he nodded. “Yeah, you can.”

He shifted, making room for you to lie down beside him. As you settled in, the warmth of his body next to yours was both comforting and grounding. You felt his arm wrap around you, pulling you closer, and you snuggled into his embrace, feeling safe and protected.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his chest.

“For what?” he asked softly, his breath warm against your hair.

“For letting me in. For trusting me.”

Joel pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I trust you more than anyone. And I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You smiled, the weight of the world feeling just a little bit lighter in his arms. “We’ll figure it out together. “As the night deepened, the sounds of the wilderness outside seemed distant, the crackling fire casting a gentle glow around you. Joel’s steady heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest were the lullaby that finally coaxed you into sleep. In his arms, you found a peace you hadn’t known in a long time.

He felt his heart giving up for you.

That had happened a few months ago.

And Joel had become afraid. He found himself lying awake almost every night, staring at the sky and the stars, a storm of thoughts raging in his mind. What if something happened to you? What if he couldn't protect you? The thought of losing you, of seeing the light fade from your eyes, was a nightmare he couldn't bear. It was a fear far greater than anything he had ever faced; greater than the harsh realities of the post-apocalyptic world he had navigated for so long.

During the day, he tried to push these fears aside, trying to focus on the present. But it was impossible. Every smile you gave him reminded him of what he stood to lose. Every time you reached for his hand, his heart ached with the weight of his love for you and the dread of its potential loss.

He watched you with Ellie, how you cared for her, and how you brought joy and laughter into her bleak world. He saw how you made her feel safe and loved, and it only made his feelings for you deepen. Ellie, too, had become a part of this fragile, makeshift family, and his love for both of you intertwined, creating a web of vulnerability he couldn't escape.

The wind howled outside, carrying with it the bitter cold of the frozen winter night. Inside the small, dilapidated cabin, a fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow across the room. You, Joel, and Ellie huddled close to the fire, trying to fend off the chill that seemed to seep through the very walls.

Ellie poked at the fire with a stick, her eyes reflecting the dancing flames. "What do you think it’ll be like, Joel?" she asked, her voice filled with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

Joel looked up from the map he was studying, his eyes softening as he met Ellie’s gaze. "What do you mean?"

"After the cure," she said. "When this is all over. What do you think it’ll be like?"

Joel leaned back against the rough wooden wall, his mind drifting to a time long past. "I reckon things will be...different. Better, maybe. People could rebuild, start over. There might be schools again, towns with shops, places where kids can just be kids."

Ellie smiled at the thought, her imagination running wild with possibilities. "I want to learn to play guitar," she said. "Like you, Joel. You promised to teach me, remember?"

Joel chuckled softly, a rare sound in these harsh times. "Yeah, I remember. We'll find one, and I'll teach you. Maybe we can even have a little concert, you and me."

You watched the exchange, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. "What about you, Joel? What's something you’d want to do?"

Joel hesitated, his eyes flicking to you. "I... I’d like to have a place of our own. Somewhere safe. Maybe a little house with a garden. We could grow our own food, live a quiet life. Just...be together."

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. "That sounds nice," you said softly. "Really nice."

The conversation drifted into a comfortable silence, each of you lost in thoughts of a hopeful future. You leaned against Joel, the warmth of his body a comforting presence. His arm wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you closer.

Ellie yawned and stretched out on the floor next to the fire. "I think I'm going to get some sleep," she said, her voice already heavy with exhaustion.

"Good idea," Joel replied. "I’ll keep the watch."

Ellie nodded and pulled her blanket tightly around herself, quickly drifting off to sleep. You and Joel stayed by the fire, the quiet crackling of the flames the only sound in the room.

"Do you really think there’s hope for a cure?" you asked quietly, your head resting on his shoulder.

Joel sighed, his fingers gently stroking your arm. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I have to believe there is. For Ellie. For you."

You tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes searching his. "You’ve been through so much, Joel. Yet you still find it in you to hope. That’s incredible."

He shook his head slightly. "It's not hope," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's you.”

Joel’s panic attacks had become more frequent as the days passed. Every quiet moment seemed to stretch into an eternity of worry and fear. He could feel the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him, and the constant fear that he wouldn’t be able to protect you or Ellie gnawed at him relentlessly.

When the three of you had finally arrived at Jackson, Joel’s thoughts were a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Jackson was a sanctuary, a place where you could all be safe, but his fears didn’t dissipate. If anything, they grew stronger. The more secure the surroundings, the more he worried about what could go wrong.

Jackson was bustling with life, a stark contrast to the desolate landscapes they had traversed. Children played in the streets, people worked in gardens, and there was a sense of community and hope that was almost overwhelming. Joel watched it all with a heavy heart, his mind racing.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going to die, that some unseen danger would take him away from you and Ellie. The thought of leaving you unprotected was unbearable. That’s when the idea started to form: maybe the best way to protect you was to leave you in Jackson, where you’d be safe. Where you could even find someone younger than him to kept you alive.

Joel sought out his brother. He found Tommy in the community hall, finishing up some late-night paperwork. The room was quiet, the only sound the scratch of Tommy’s pen against the paper.

"Tommy," Joel said, his voice low and strained.

Tommy looked up, immediately sensing the urgency in his brother’s tone. "Joel, what’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

Joel took a deep breath, his hands trembling. He sat down across from Tommy, his eyes filled with anguish. "I need to talk to you. It’s about Ellie and... and my….my " He couldn’t find the words to describe you. Calling you his lover wasn’t a proper word to use, it felt so weak. There was not nickname that could make justice to what you meant to him.

“Your girlfriend?” Tommy asked.

Joel nodded.

Tommy set his pen down, giving Joel his full attention. "Alright, tell me what’s on your mind."

Joel’s voice cracked as he spoke. "I don’t know how much longer I can do this. The fear... it’s eating me alive. I’m so scared something’s going to happen to them, and I won’t be able to protect them."

Tommy’s expression softened. "Joel, you’re in Jackson now. It’s safe here. We’ve got walls, people who care about each other. You don’t have to do this alone."

Joel shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. "You don’t understand. I feel like I’m going to die, like something’s going to take me away from them. And then what? What happens to them if I’m gone?"

Tommy reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Joel’s shoulder. "We’ll take care of them, Joel. You’re not alone in this."

Joel’s tears began to fall, his voice choked with emotion. "I’m asking you to take Ellie with you. Keep her safe. And let my baby stay here in Jackson. She deserves a life that’s not filled with running and fear."

Tommy’s eyes widened in shock. "Joel, are you sure about this? You’re talking about leaving them behind."

"I’m not leaving them," Joel said, his voice trembling. "I’m trying to protect them. They’ll be safer without me."

Tommy sighed, his heart breaking for his brother. "And what about you, Joel? What happens to you if you leave?"

Joel wiped his tears, trying to steady himself. "I’ll find a way to keep going. I just need to know they’re safe. That’s all that matters."

Tommy nodded slowly, understanding the depth of Joel’s fear and love. "Alright, Joel. If this is what you think is best, I’ll take care of them. But you need to talk to them first. They deserve to know why you’re doing this."

Joel nodded, his heart heavy with the weight of his decision. "I will. Thank you, Tommy."

Tommy pulled Joel into a tight embrace; his voice filled with emotion. "We’re family, Joel. We take care of each other."

Joel clung to his brother, the tears flowing freely now. He knew the conversation with you and Ellie would be one of the hardest things he’d ever have to do, but he also knew it was necessary. The fear of losing you both was too great to ignore, and he hoped that, in time, you would understand why he had to make this choice.

Joel walked slowly to Ellie’s room, his heart heavy with the burden of what he was about to do. He knew this conversation would be one of the hardest of his life, but he also believed it was necessary. He took a deep breath and knocked softly on her door.

“Come in,” Ellie’s voice called from inside.

He opened the door and stepped into the room. Ellie was sitting on her bed, reading one of the books she had found in Jackson’s library. She looked up and smiled when she saw him, but her smile faded when she noticed the serious expression on his face.

“Joel, what’s wrong?” she asked, her brows furrowing with concern.

Joel closed the door behind him and sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked at Ellie, her young face full of life and determination, and it made his heart ache.

“Ellie, we need to talk,” he said softly, struggling to find the right words.

Ellie set her book aside and gave him her full attention. “What’s going on?”

Joel took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly. “Ellie, I’ve been thinking a lot about our journey, about everything we’ve been through. And... about what comes next.”

Ellie shook her head, her voice rising with emotion. “Joel, no. We’re supposed to stick together. We’re a team.”

Joel looked down, unable to meet her eyes. “Ellie, I’m not sure I can keep doing this. The fear... it’s too much. I’m scared something’s going to happen to you, and I won’t be able to protect you.”

Ellie reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “We protect each other, Joel. That’s how we’ve always done it.”

Joel swallowed hard, his voice breaking. “I’m asking Tommy to take you to the fireflies. He’ll keep you safe until you arrive to the hospital.”

Ellie’s eyes filled with tears, and she shook her head fiercely. “No, Joel. I’m not going without you. We’ve come this far together, and I’m not leaving you.”

Joel’s heart ached at her words, but he forced himself to continue. “Ellie, you need to understand. I’m not... I’m not your father. I can’t be the one to keep you safe forever.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and Ellie’s tears began to fall. “You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father, Joel. Don’t you get that? Fuck”

Joel’s own tears threatened to spill over, but he steeled himself. “But you’re not my daughter and I’m not your father.”

Ellie shook her head, her voice filled with desperation. “No, Joel. Please. Don’t do this. We need you.”

Joel reached out, cupping her face in his hands. “I need you to trust me, Ellie. This is the best way to keep you safe.”

Ellie pulled away from his touch, her face a mix of anger and heartbreak. “I don’t want to be safe if it means losing you. You and her are all I have, Joel.”

Joel stood up, his heart shattering at her words. “I’m sorry, Ellie. But this is how it has to be.”

He turned and walked toward the door, each step feeling like a lead weight. He paused at the doorway, looking back at Ellie one last time.

With that, he walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. He leaned against the wall, his heart breaking at the sound of Ellie’s muffled sobs. He knew this was one of the hardest decisions he had ever made, but he believed it was the right one.

As he stood there, trying to compose himself, he heard footsteps approaching. You appeared at the end of the hallway, having heard the conversation. Your eyes met his, and in that moment, he saw the same mix of anger, hurt, and confusion that Ellie had shown.

You approached Joel slowly, your face a mix of anger and hurt. He could see the questions in your eyes, the need for an explanation that would make sense of the pain he had caused.

"Joel," you said, your voice trembling. "What are you doing?"

Joel looked down, unable to meet your gaze. "I'm trying to keep you both safe. You and Ellie. This place, Jackson... it's where you can have a real life."

Your eyes narrowed, and you took a step closer. "And you think abandoning us is the way to do that? How could you even consider leaving us behind?"

Joel sighed, his shoulders slumping. "It's not abandoning you. It's making sure you're protected. If something happens to me—"

You cut him off, your voice rising with emotion. "Don't you get it, Joel? We need you. Ellie needs you. I need you. You're the reason we've made it this far. You can't just walk away."

Joel's eyes were filled with pain as he looked up at you. "I can't shake the fear that I'm going to die, that I won't be there when you need me most. I thought if I left, you'd be safer."

You stepped even closer, your anger giving way to desperation. "Safer? Joel, we've faced everything together. We protect each other. How can you think we'd be better off without you? How can you think I would be better off without you?""

Joel's voice was barely a whisper. "Because I can't bear the thought of losing you.”

Your heart ached at his words, but you knew you had to make him understand. You reached out, taking his hands in yours. "Joel, I love you. I need you with me, not just for protection, but because you're my love. Leaving me won't keep me safe; it'll break me."

Joel looked at you, tears welling in his eyes. "I don't know if I can do this. The fear is... it's too much."

You squeezed his hands, your voice gentle but firm. "We'll face it together, Joel. Just like we always have. You're not alone in this. Please, don't leave me."

Joel pulled you into a tight embrace, his tears finally spilling over. "I'm so scared," he admitted, his voice choked with emotion.

You held him close, your own tears falling. "I know, Joel. But we're stronger together. I need you. Ellie and I need you"

As you stood there, holding each other in the quiet of the hallway, Joel felt the weight of his fear begin to lift. The love and determination in your voice gave him the strength he needed to keep going. At least for a bit.

After a long moment, Joel pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I was trying to do the right thing.”

You nodded; your heart full of relief. "We'll figure it out, Joel. Together."

Joel took a deep breath, cupping your face in his hands. “I love you so much,” he said, pecking your lips.

Your heart swelled with emotion as you returned his kiss, a soft, reassuring touch. “I love you too, Joel,” you whispered, your voice steady with conviction.

Joel rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as if trying to etch this moment into his memory. “I just don’t want to lose you or Ellie. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to either of you.”

You stroked his cheek, your thumb brushing away a stray tear. “We’re not going anywhere, Joel. We’ve made it through so much already, and we’ll keep making it through. Together.”

He nodded, pulling you into a tighter embrace, the warmth of his body a comforting reminder of his presence. “Together,” he repeated, his voice more confident now.

You pulled back slightly from the embrace, looking up into Joel’s eyes. "Come on," you said softly, taking his hand. "Let’s get cleaned up. It’s been a long day."

He nodded, allowing you to lead him down the hall to the bathroom. The room was small, but it had a functioning shower—one of the many luxuries you had come to appreciate in this place. You turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until it was just right.

Joel stood there, watching you with an exhaustion and adoration. He started to undress, his movements were slow You did the same, your eyes meeting his with every piece of clothing that fell to the floor. There was an unspoken understanding between you. Both of you bared int front of each other, stealing glances of your bodies in display.

Once you were both undressed, you stepped into the shower together. The warm water cascaded over your bodies, washing away the grime and tension of the day. You reached for the soap, lathering it between your hands before gently running them over Joel’s shoulders and back.

He sighed, leaning into your touch. "You don’t have to do this," he murmured.

"I want to," you replied, your voice tender. "Let me take care of you." You said, pressing a kiss on his wet shoulder.

You continued to wash him, your hands moving in soothing, circular motions. The warmth of the water and the intimacy of the moment began to ease the tension in his muscles. When you reached his hair, you took the shampoo and began to work it into a lather, your fingers massaging his scalp.

Joel closed his eyes, a soft groan escaping his lips. "That feels nice," he admitted.

You smiled, continuing to wash his hair with gentle care. "Good. You deserve to relax."

After rinsing the shampoo from his hair, you handed him the soap. "Your turn," you said with a playful smile.

He took the soap, his hands surprisingly gentle as he began to wash your shoulders and back. The feel of his strong, calloused hands against your skin was comforting, a reminder of how much you meant to each other. He took his time, his touch tender and affectionate, showing the love he felt for you.

When he reached your hair, he repeated the process, his fingers working the shampoo through your locks with the same care you had shown him. You closed your eyes, savoring the sensation of his hands in your hair and the warmth of the water cascading over you.

For a while, the two of you stood there, simply enjoying the closeness and the rare moment of peace. The world outside might be filled with danger and uncertainty, but here, in this small bathroom, there was only love.

When you were both clean, you turned off the water and reached for a towel, wrapping it around Joel’s shoulders before taking another for yourself. You helped each other dry off, the intimacy of the moment deepening the existent bond between you.

Joel looked at you, his eyes filled with gratitude and love. "Thank you," he said softly.

You cupped his face in your hands, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "We’re in this together, Joel. Always."

He nodded, pulling you into a tight embrace. "Together," he echoed.

As you both stood there in the warmth of the bathroom, wrapped in towels and each other's embrace, the bond between you felt stronger than ever. The fear and uncertainty of the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the love and trust you had for each other.

Joel kissed the top of your head and took your hand, leading you back to the bedroom. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated the bedroom, casting a warm, golden hue over the room. You both moved slowly, savoring the peaceful moment.

You helped Joel into bed, making sure he was comfortable before slipping in beside him. He pulled you close, his arms wrapped protectively around you. The simple act of being in his arms felt like the safest place in the world.

Joel tilted his head slightly, his lips brushing against your forehead as he spoke. "I love you so much," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "More than I can ever put into words."

You looked up at him, your heart swelling at the raw honesty in his eyes. "I love you too, Joel. So much."

He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "I don't think I've ever felt this way before. I mean, caring this much for someone. Not since Sarah. And it's... it's scary. But it's also the most wonderful thing I’ve ever felt."

Your heart ached for him at the mention of Sarah, but you knew how important it was for Joel to express his feelings. You placed a gentle hand on his cheek, your thumb brushing against his stubble. "It's okay to be scared, Joel. But you're not alone in this. We’re in it together."

Joel nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You've given me something I thought I’d lost forever. Hope. A reason to keep fighting. And I want you to know that I’ll do everything I can to protect you, to make sure we have a future together."

You leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. "We’ll protect each other. And we’ll build that future, one day at a time."

He wrapped his arms around you tighter, holding you close as if trying to memorize the feeling of having you in his arms. "I promise you, I'll never let anything happen to you. You and Ellie mean everything to me."

You snuggled closer, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "And you mean everything to us, Joel. We're stronger together."

Joel sighed contentedly, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back. "Thank you for standing by me, for believing in me. I don't know what I’d do without you."

You smiled against his chest, feeling the warmth of his love envelop you. "You'll never have to find out, because I'm not going anywhere."

With that, you both drifted into a peaceful sleep, the worries of the world outside momentarily forgotten. In each other's arms, you found solace and strength, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead together.

Hours later, Joel woke up in the middle of the night, the room shrouded in darkness. He instinctively reached out for you, but his hand found only empty space. Panic surged through him, his heart pounding as he sat up, his eyes scanning the room.

"Baby, where are you?" he muttered, throwing the blankets aside as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He quickly pulled on his pants and a shirt, his movements hurried and frantic. The fear of losing you, so deeply ingrained in his mind, took hold as he rushed out of the bedroom.

He moved swiftly down the hallway, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. Had something happened? Had someone taken you? The thoughts were unbearable. He reached the top of the stairs and bolted down them, nearly stumbling in his haste.

When he reached the bottom, he paused, his eyes darting around the living room. Relief washed over him as he saw you sitting on the couch, a cup of tea cradled in your hands. You looked up, startled by his sudden appearance.

"Joel, what’s wrong?" you asked, concern etching your features.

He let out a shaky breath, his heart still racing. "I woke up and you weren’t there," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I thought something had happened to you."

You set your tea down on the table and stood up, crossing the room to him. "I’m sorry," you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "I couldn’t sleep, so I came down to make some tea. I didn’t mean to scare you."

He pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you as if to reassure himself that you were really there. "It’s okay," he murmured into your hair. "I just...I can’t bear the thought of losing you."

You held him just as tightly, feeling the intensity of his emotions. "You won’t lose me, Joel. I promise."

He nodded, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. "I know. It’s just...sometimes the fear gets the better of me."

You cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks. "I understand," you said gently. "But we’re safe here. We have each other."

He sighed, the tension slowly easing from his body. "Yeah, we do."

"Come on," you said, taking his hand and leading him to the couch. "Sit with me for a while. The tea is still warm."

He followed you, sitting down beside you on the couch. You picked up your cup and handed it to him. "Here, takes a sip. It’ll help you relax."

He took the cup, his hands still slightly trembling. He sipped the tea, the warmth spreading through him, helping to calm his nerves. "Thanks," he said, his voice steadier.

You leaned against him, your head resting on his shoulder. "We’ll get through this, Joel. Together."

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. "Yeah, we will."

The two of you sat there in the quiet of the night, the warmth of the tea and the comfort of each other’s presence soothing the fears that had momentarily overwhelmed him. In that moment, Joel felt a renewed sense of peace, knowing that as long as you were by his side, he could face anything the future held.

As the minutes passed, the tension in Joel's body melted away. He looked down at you, your eyes closed, content and calm. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you," he whispered, the words carrying all the weight of his heart.

"I love you too," you replied softly, without opening your eyes.

Joel took another sip of the tea, its warmth soothing him from the inside out. The night was still and quiet, a rare tranquility enveloping your home. He gazed around the room, taking in the modest, yet comforting surroundings. This place, this sanctuary in Jackson, could become more than just a shelter. A home.

You snuggled closer to him, and Joel felt a profound sense of gratitude. For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to truly believe in the possibility of a future filled with hope and love. The horrors of the past, the constant threats of the present, they all seemed a little more bearable with you by his side.

"We’ve been through so much," he said quietly, his fingers gently stroking your hair. "But sitting here with you, it makes it all worth it."

You opened your eyes and looked up at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. "We’ve found something real, Joel. Something worth fighting for. And no matter what comes our way, we’ll face it together."

Joel nodded, feeling the truth of your words settle deep within him. "Together," he echoed, his voice filled with conviction. "Always."

The two of you sat there in the stillness, the warmth of each other's presence a balm for your souls. Joel felt a sense of peace he hadn't known in years. With you, he had found a reason to hope, to believe in a better tomorrow.

As the night wore on, the exhaustion of the day began to catch up with him. You noticed his eyelids growing heavy and gently took the cup from his hands, setting it on the table. "Come on," you whispered, standing up and offering your hand. "Let’s get some rest."

Joel took your hand and allowed you to lead him back to the bedroom. The room was still bathed in the soft glow of the lamp, casting a warm light over the bed. You both slipped under the covers, and Joel pulled you close, your bodies fitting together perfectly.

With you in his arms, the fear and anxiety that had plagued him earlier faded away. The rhythm of your breathing, the steady beat of your heart against his chest, all served as a reminder of the love and strength you shared.

"Goodnight, Joel," you murmured, your voice filled with tenderness. "Goodnight," he replied, pressing a final kiss to your forehead.

As he closed his eyes, Joel felt a deep sense of contentment. No matter what the future held, he knew that with you by his side, he could face it all. Together, you had built something beautiful amidst the chaos, and that was something worth holding on to.

In the quiet darkness, with you in his arms, Joel finally allowed himself to drift into a peaceful sleep, dreaming of the life you would continue to build together, one filled with love, hope, and endless possibilities.

163 notes · View notes

latenightdaydreams · 2 days

Note

Mafia! König X Enemy! Reader

The reader is a CEO at a corporation, a person who always destroys König's business deals, it's time to punish

Mafia!König x CEO!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

READ TRIGGERS

>cw: fem/afab, non-con, whipping, sodomy

1.7k word count

When König received the news that his latest deal was intercepted due to you, again, he ordered his best to find you and bring you in. This was more than a hit; it was personal now. He had to be the one to do it. All he knew about you was your last name and the fact you’re the CEO. Imagine his surprise when he sees a woman tied to a chair and blindfolded. Not meaning to be sexist, but he was expecting a man.

As you sit with your arms bound behind your back and legs together, you struggle to break free. You stop once you hear heavy footsteps enter the room that you’re in. The sound of whispering followed by someone grabbing your chin tightly and tilting your head up.

“So, you’re the Kleine Maus that has been a thorn in my side,” König say’s in a low tone to you.

König pulls the blindfold from your eyes as he gazes down at you still. You only see icy blue eyes behind his black mask with bleach streaks. He studies your face closely; he can’t help but to find you attractive. The want to kill you changes, now he wants to own you. Such a pretty thing, it would be a waste to discard you.

“Do you know who I am?”

“König?” You try to steady your voice so your fear doesn’t show. In a cocky way, you felt untouchable. You never saw yourself in this position.

“Ja.” He grabs your jaw tightly and turns your face to the side to inspect you. “I wasn’t expecting a vixen.”

You try to jerk your face away from him, but his grip is tight. “What do you want?”

“I think you already know what I want.”

“Then just kill me already.”

“I don’t think I will.” König leans in closer to your face and looks deeply into your eyes. “It would be such a waste, don’t you think?”

“Do you want to do business with me? I can give you a 25% cut—”

“25%? That’s it? I think I’d prefer 100%.”

“50%.”

“Nien, Maus. I’m going to take it all, plus a little extra.”

König takes a few steps back from you, releasing your jaw. He grabs a pocket knife from its sheath, walking towards you. Fearful of being stabbed, you squirm in your restraints.

“Stop moving.” König mumbles as he grabs your shirt. He slides the knife through the fabric, splitting it in half and exposing your breasts sitting in your red bra.

“What are you doing?!”

“Showing you your place.” König looks at you as he pulls your shirt back to show more of your body to him. He pulls your bra down harshly, freeing your breasts. “Schön.”

“Stop!”

“You’re in no place to be making demands, Kleiner. Shut the fuck up and be thankful I’m letting you live,” He barks at you.

You sit with wide eyes and swallow hard as you can see the rage he’s suppressing. You’ve stolen millions from him, there is no denying the man hates you. His gaze only leaves yours to look down at your breasts, nipples harden from the cold air in the room.

“When I untie you, just know the door is locked from the outside and only the man on the other side can open it. Save your energy for what I’ve got planned.”

You shake your head, but don’t listen. König cuts the binds on your legs before going behind you and cutting your wrist free. In an instant you stand to run to the door. You’re unable to open it so you just bang on it and scream to be let out. Horangi on the other side just looks at the solid wood door before laughing at how desperate you are.

König wraps his muscular arm around your waist and pulls you back. “Pull your pants off.” You stand still, unmoving. “NOW!”

His loud demand causes you to jump, your fingers quickly pulling your slacks down. You stand in only your red panties now, gazing at König. He stands with his arms crossed, leaning against the door just taking in the sight before him.

“Legs apart.” He says, pushing himself off the door as he approaches you. “And if you try to hit me, you’ll only be making it worse for yourself Maus.”

There is no way you would even try. He stands at almost 7 feet with the build of a bull. You’re too small to take him on without a weapon. Instead, you swallow your pride and stand with your feet spread apart and your hands at your side. You look straight ahead and avoid looking at him as he approaches and walks behind you.

“Hands behind your back.”

You cross your arms behind your back, you can hear the rustling of fabric as König pulls his belt off of his waist. He folds the belt in half as he stares at your ass. First, he squeezes your soft fatty flesh with his large hand and taps it a few times. He then pulls his arm back before slamming his leather belt harshly against your delicate skin.

A pained cry leaves your lips, causing König to smile. He hits you so hard that you’re thrown off balance. His hand wraps around your arm pulling up back to your original stance.

“Come on, you’re stronger than that.” He mocks as he hits you again.

Another painful wail spills from your mouth, you are able to hold yourself firmer this time though. König loves hearing your pained cries. His cock getting hard in his cargo pants as he watches your ass ripple with every hit. Small welts already are starting to appear from the degree in which he is hitting you.

A few minutes of him whipping you pass as you stand with tears staining your cheeks until he stops. You wait for the next hit but it never comes. König just stands there rubbing his palm over his erection straining against the fabric needing set free.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it Maus?” He chuckles as he walks to grab the only chair in the empty room and brings it behind you. “Knees here. Lean over the back.” He says while pointing to the seat of the chair.

You turn and gaze up at him while moving yourself to the chair. Simply walking hurts, the skin on your ass is burning hot and feels tight. Once you’re situated on the chair, he walks up behind you and pulls down your underwear. His eyes gloss over your tight little asshole and those pretty, fat pussy lips between your legs.

He pulls your panties off all the way and brings them to his face to smell. “Are you ready for me?”

“Please, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” He stops you.

König walks to be in front of you as he gazes down at you. Without breaking eye contact he unzips his pants, pulling at the button and letting his pants drop to his ankles. His cock springs free in your face. He walks closer and presses the leaky tip against your closed lips.

“Open.” König demands with his massive horse cock in your face.

You shake your head no. König laughs at your defiance.

“I said open. It’s for your benefit.” He mocks.

You still refuse to open.

“Okay, no lube it is.” He says as he walks away back behind you.

With your panties still in hand, he crouches down. He spreads your ass cheeks, causing you to flinch from the pain of where you were hit. He watches as your pussy lips spread slightly, exposing your pink folds.

“Here we go.” He whispers as he slowly shows your panties into your tight pussy. The feeling of the fabric being shoved into you is uncomfortable, but you try to stay still to not anger him more. He leaves a little bit hanging out of you, kissing your lips before standing up right again.

König moves closer, slapping your sore ass cheeks with his cock. One of his hands grabs the back of your neck to hold you still, the other still on the base of his cock. He begins to slap over your tight asshole with his heavy cock.

“Are you ready for me?”

You simply don’t respond, doing your best to stay in your head and not react. All of that goes out the window when you feel him shove the head of his cock into your virgin asshole. Your head whips around and you gaze up at König.

König meets your gaze as he shoves more of his cock into you. Your ass squeezes so hard around him he slips out for a second. It’s a small moment of relief until he pushes back into you. A loud painful groan is met with him shoving in more of his cock this time. You can feel a tearing sensation causing you to clench down on him, tucking your butt trying to get away.

“DON’T move…” He growls as he holds your hip, pulling you back to him.

König moves both hands to your hips to keep you steady, watching as his cock disappears into your tiny little hole. He lets out a loud moan once he is able to fit all of himself inside of you. The pain of his hips slamming into your torn up flesh is not even close to the pain of his monster cock inside of you.

He pulls out almost all of the way before slamming his cock into you once more. The wails that leave your mouth only adding to his arousal. His cock is being squeezed so tightly by your warm ass he gets lost in the sensation, just fucking you disregarding your pain.

König moves one hand to slap your ass, watching you jerk away like an abused animal. He smirks. You’re already breaking for him. As he shoves his cock all the way into your sore ass, he leans over your body to whisper in your ear.

“You’ve fucked me out of millions, and I’m going to fuck you for ever cent you took from me.” He promises you.

154 notes · View notes

foldingfittedsheets · 4 hours

Text

I’d like to entertain and enliven you now with the saga of my Slut Era.

I’ve always been a serial monogamist and my shortest long term relationships clocked in at three years. So perhaps that’s why when I finally broke it off with my ex I went insane on dating. Part of it was definitely just that between anxiety and loneliness I wanted to fill up my time.

This happened when I was living alone for the first time, no roommates, just me and my little cat Leeloo. I didn’t want to come home to an empty house so instead I set up dates.

Most of these were disastrous. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea and I had a lot more first dates than second because they’d seen enough, including the one where people aggressively complimented me.

But after a few months I had four people I was seeing simultaneously. I was up front with all of them that things were not exclusive, and they all agreed, so no infidelity took place here, just a lot of hijinks.

Here’s who was on the dating roster:

• An apprentice woodworker that we’ll call Jill. I honestly thought at 26 years old that her being 21 wasn’t a problem age gap and I quickly learned that there was a vast gulf of both maturity and life experience between us. Jill described herself as “heteroflexible” and had just dumped her first boyfriend to flirt it up with me.

• A married woman looking for a friends with benefits. We’ll call her Alice. I insisted on meeting her husband first to be sure I wasn’t part of a cheating mess and he gave me his blessing when I stayed over at her house. Years later when he and Alice had divorced I would go on to sell him and his new fiancée an engagement ring and we both realized at the end how we knew each other and it was wildly awkward. Alice was nice, but a hardcore vegan who insisted I brush my teeth if I so much as ate string cheese before I could kiss her. She was also unhappy in her marriage and was feeling out if I’d want to get serious.

• A bartender dubbed Snakebites, so called because of her signature piercings. She cooked me a steak so raw it was still mooing and some of the best asparagus I’d ever had. In our singular sexy encounter she bit my nipple and I never got over it. Really don't bite someone if you don't know their preference and work up in pressure. We weren’t terribly compatible but neither of us were willing to admit it yet. Truthfully I considered still dating her solely because I desperately wanted her bathroom. It had all black tile, black toilet, black sink, a rain shower in the corner and a jacuzzi tub. I may not have loved her but god I loved that bathroom.

And finally,

• My beloved, who I would go on to marry, who was dealing with a lot of personal stuff at the time. Obviously that meant I liked them the best of all the people I was seeing because we were both disasters at the time.

So that’s the cast of this little misadventure. Now, our story begins with Jill.

Jill was someone who heightened my anxiety. Each of the three times she came to my home she brought and left more stuff. A self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans collection of DVDs. It was like she was trying to move in. She also liked to deride my taste in things, frequently calling me a pleb when I mentioned a band or show I liked.

She was working on a gorgeous little decorative table in her woodworking program. The main wood for the top had a beautiful dapple of knots like jaguar spots, and when she showed me a picture I exclaimed how pretty it was.

“Do you want it?”

“Oh- I mean it’s lovely, I wouldn’t mind having it, but you should sell it and make some money!”

But she was adamant. She’d give me the little side table. At about this time, Alice was starting to get awfully lovey for a FWB. I knew she wasn’t happy with her husband but I also knew we were not a good fit. Fun fact: Alice and her husband were step siblings with a pretty hefty age gap. They got together when he stumbled upon a kink photo shoot she’d done with vegetables. None of their family was happy about the relationship but they weren’t related by blood so it was fine.

So I was fending off more overt romantic advances from Alice, and feeling increasingly like I needed to break things off with Jill. Snakebites wasn’t ever initiating communication and I decided to pull a lot of plugs at once.

I ghosted Snakebites, told Alice that I thought we should cool it, and in a move worthy of a rom-com I asked my beloved if I could pretend we were exclusive to put off Jill. They agreed and I texted Jill to let her know that I was no longer single.

I was not prepared for Jill’s response. She. Was. Devastated. She flew off the handle. She’d just been waiting for the right time to tell me how she felt about me! How dare I do this to her!

What about the table?!

“You should keep the table, it’s gorgeous, you’ll be able to sell it, but I don’t expect a free table.”

Silence met me after that text. I worried and fretted and eventually headed home.

There on my doorstep. The table.

It was a small little end table, reeking of oil and polish, but very beautiful. I brought it inside. The little drawer didn’t even have a knob or guide rails. But it did have a handwritten bill proclaiming that it was costing me $500.

“I can’t afford a $500 table, Jill!” I texted.

“Well you kept saying how nice it was. I spent a lot of time on it.”

“I’m not saying it’s not worth $500” (it wasn’t, it was a tiny side table made by an apprentice) “but I can’t buy a $500 table.”

“Make me an offer.”

I stared at the little table. I did actually like it, but I worried about the repercussions of entering into this deal. Hesitantly I typed back, “$300.” I didn’t think it was worth that much but I didn’t want to insult her too badly.

This suited her for the night. But the next day she informed me she needed a new bed, and that she’d take her $300 in credit toward a new mattress. I spent the whole next day basically wrangling with her over what she wanted and eventually she spiked back up to demanding $500 for the damn table.

“Let me just give it back,” I begged. It was not the first, second, or even third time I’d asked to return the thing but this time she finally relented and gave me her address. Since she lived with her parents still I’d never been over.

I called up my beloved and said, “Hey, I need moral support, can you run an errand with me?”

They agreed which is how we loaded up a self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans DVD collection, and the table from hell into my little car together. Jill had said to meet her at one o'clock. I intended to drop everything off at noon and be done with this madness.

But while my beloved and I were on the doorstep leaving everything I heard, “Jill? You’re home early,” through the door. Her mom opened it to peer at us in confusion.

“I was just bringing Jill’s stuff back!” I chirped in alarm.

With little tact and a lot of speed we left her with Jill’s collection of things and then I sped out of there like my tail was on fire. I handed my phone to my beloved as I zoomed away instructing them to block Jill’s number. I was free. The tabletross around my neck had been returned.

It was about a month after that when my beloved and I officially began dating exclusively. I had wrapped up all my messy dating threads and it was a relief to be in a relationship again. They went on a trip to Mexico shortly after we made it official.

So I knew they were out of town. But next morning I walked out to my car and beheld a lipstick kiss pressed to the drivers side window.

I was petrified. I had just dumped three girls at once and had an extremely messy back and forth with one of them. Did I have a stalker?!

Of the girls, Alice seemed like likeliest candidate, being of a stronger lipstick variety girl than Jill or Snakebites. We had ended things a bit stiffly, but still cordial. She just laughed when I asked if she knew anything about it. “Nope,” she said, “but good luck.”

I’d rather have walked over broken glass then text Jill, and I’d firmly ghosted Snakebites so I was scared to reopen communication to ask if she was stalking me. I had to drop it. But it haunted me, that lipstick kiss.

For months I was jumpy, wondering which of my spurned lovers had done it. And why. Was it a threat? A goodbye? I lay awake thinking about it, worrying about how everyone I’d dated knew where I lived, which car was mine.

Finally, nothing else happened and I moved on. The kiss would remain a mystery and I had to be content with that.

It was a year later when I finally started filling my mom in on my dating escapades that I finally got closure. She was hooting and laughing as I went over the table debacle. Then I paused and added, “And then this kiss showed up on my car.”

“Did you like it?”

“What? No! I’m pretty sure one of them was stalking me! Who else would leave a kiss on my car?”

My mom started bellowing with laughter. “I did!” She wheezed.

Apparently. My mother had been driving by my place. And decided that a cute little gesture would be to leave me a kiss. And then decided to never mention it to me even though she’s never done anything like that previously.

“It scared the crap out of me!” I yelled while she collapsed with helpless laughter. “I thought I had a stalker! How could I possibly have known that was you?!”

“How could I have known you’d just broken up with three girls at once?” She wheezed in rejoinder and like. Fair play.

So that’s how my mom convinced me I had a stalker and I got out of buying a $500 table.

#ramblies #funny #ffs foibles #dating #the table #writing #story #funny story

181 notes · View notes

peachdues · 12 hours

Text

GASOLINE ON FIRE

COMPASS ONE-SHOT • bad boy!Sanemi x Reader

A/N: a one-shot from my bad boy!Sanemi gang AU fic, Compass featuring Sanemi and Reader’s first kiss. It technically happened off-page in the first Chapter, so I thought I’d share it with you all now because I’m such a sap for these two.

CW: 1.7k • MDNI • mentions of explicit sexual content • mentions of masturbation • Sanemi’s been thinking about Reader in fun ways • first kiss • fluff/light angst

READ COMPASS HERE

You’re both seated on your floor, pizza box sitting in front of you, half-empty, alongside a couple of empty, discarded beer bottles.

“I’ve never had sex,” you blurt, prompting Sanemi to choke on his gulp of beer.

“What?”

You pause in bringing your own bottle to your lips to glare at him. “You don’t have to be rude about it.”

“I’m not,” Sanemi wipes his lips. “Who gives a shit about that — I mean, where did that come from?”

You take a long, pointed sip of your beer before setting it back down, drawing your knees up to your chest. “I don’t know,” you shrug. “Isn’t it weird that I haven’t? We’re both twenty-one — but I’ve never even had a serious relationship, much less had sex.”

That surprises him. He’d thought about your days in school more than he’d be willing to admit ever since he chose your bookstore to hide in all those months ago. He’s devoted countless hours to wracking his brain, trying to recall every minute detail about you, in a concerted effort to figure out why the fuck he didn’t approach you sooner.

But he’d found that he couldn’t quite recall, and maybe that’s because he never had an excuse.

Still, you seem like you should have had at least the opportunity for love. After all, Sanemi can’t imagine someone worthier of it.

You’re staring at him, now, expectant, and Sanemi distracts himself by reaching for his own beer bottle to inspect it. “’S not weird,” he says after a moment. “You’re young. You’ve barely been out in the world.”

“But you‘ve done it,” you push, taking another swig of your drink.

Sanemi nods with a chuckle, setting his now-empty bottle down. “Yeah, yeah I have.”

You refuse to meet his eyes as you mumble, “And you like doing it.”

“Is that what the rumors say?” He asks drily, concealing his faint grimace by reaching for another beer.

“I don’t care about the rumors. I’m trying to make a point, here,” you scowl, finally lifting your gaze back to him. “I want to do it. I don’t want to be a virgin anymore.”

He glances at you from the corner of his eye. “Noted.”

“I want you to fix it.”

His hand halts midair before it can reach the last unopened bottle, and he turns to stare dumbly at you.

You must be joking — or you’re drunk. In either event, there’s no fucking way you’re serious.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it — extensively, for that matter. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it just as badly as you seem to — arguably, even more so, given that he can’t stop thinking about it.

He wouldn’t be caught dead admitting that he thinks of you that way often — so much so that he hasn’t been able to get laid in at least two months, because he couldn’t stop picturing you when he was with his designated fling of the evening.

Hell, he’d only been able to get off that last time because he stopped fighting the images in his head. Ones that involved that flirty sundress you loved wearing pulled down to expose your breasts, bouncing as you rode him, or the blush on your cheeks he imagined would form when he settled between your thighs, mouth lowering to steal a taste of what he could only assume was paradise.

Since then, the only thing Sanemi has been fucking is his own hand. And damn, if those little images of you didn’t keep sneaking into his subconscious. And though he always managed to cum fast and hard whenever those fantasies bled into his mind, Sanemi also was left to feel nothing but shame afterward as he wiped his hand and abdomen clean, guilt hanging heavily over his head for thinking of you in such a way.

For daring to think you might want him at all.

But now, here you were, looking at him with all the hopeful expectancy in the world. As though he has anything worth offering you.

Sure, Sanemi knew you were likely asking him to do it for practicality’s sake. You were a virgin and you wanted not to be anymore. And he was there, your only friend, and he was someone known for being rather unrestrained when it came to matters of the bedroom (or, anywhere that offered semi-privacy, for that matter).

He was a convenience; nothing more.

Did that stop him from considering it? Of course not. He was yours to use as much as you wanted, as far as he was concerned. But he’d assumed his usefulness stopped at being an ear to listen to; a companion — not because of anything you did, but because Sanemi had never felt like he held much value outside of what he could do for others.

And really, being used for this purpose — by you, no less — wasn’t too bad of an idea, all things considered.

But he can’t; he won’t. Part of him wants you to save that piece of yourself for someone who deserves it; deserves you. And that sure as shit isn’t him.

Part of him is also acutely aware that you’re tipsy and thus, the boundaries of your consent are blurry, and Sanemi would rather eat and shit glass than dilute them further.

But another part of him hesitates because he knows that if he does give in — gives you what you both want — that he’ll only further distort what remains of the lines he’s drawn in the sand. Lines, he sternly reminds himself, that are not just his means of protecting you, but rules that he is bound to obey as an extension of the Corps.

Don’t get attached.

And yet, he can’t help but wonder; can’t stop his traitorous heart from swelling, or his mind from running with the faint possibility of what life might be like if he just said yes.

What would it be like to be close to you? To hold you, kiss you, whisper sweet nothings in your ear he’d never told anyone else, but had secretly always longed to share? Would you moan or sigh his name? And if he was graced with the chance to see you fall apart — how would you look? Would you cry out, or would your mouth fall open in a silent o, your pleasure so intense that it stole the very breath from your lungs?

Never mind wanting and being wanted in return — what would it be like to have?

You rest your chin on your arms, eyes fixed on him, waiting, and Sanemi feels himself nearly break right there.

It’s nearly impossible to turn you down in a way that won’t hurt your feelings, but he has to. He has no choice.

He never has.

“Sorry, Princess. Don’t think that’s the best idea.” He reaches over to flick your nose before adding, “Plus, you’re a bit too tipsy.”

He hopes that his disappointment isn’t too evident on his face as he watches you; hopes that you cannot see the way his heart cracks under his own self restraint.

Thankfully, you drop your head onto your arms with a groan, concealing your face in your alcohol-tinged shame.

To his dismay, your obvious letdown punches at that soft part of his heart he’s reserved for you. His mouth goes dry. The idea blooms in his head and he’s acting before he can stop himself.

Just a taste. He swears. Just a taste. A little indulgence, so you know his reticence has nothing to do with you and everything to do with the fact that he isn’t worth it.

“Hey.”

You roll your head to the side to peer shyly at him, a pretty blush still staining your cheeks.

“Come here.”

You lift your head from your arms then, cocking it in a question that Sanemi decides to answer by crooking his fingers under your chin and leaning in.

The kiss he shares with you is soft; measured. Your lips feel like silk against his, and it strikes him that never before has he kissed anyone with so much tenderness. The few kisses he exchanged with his flavors of the night were always sharp, bruising clashes of lips and teeth, each party more focused on sating their own needs rather than tending to that of the other.

Then again, Sanemi never felt this way toward those serving as his temporary distractions. He never thought of them as something precious; something to be adored, the way he does you.

You don’t move your arms from where they’re folded atop your knees, and for that, Sanemi is grateful. He knows that were you to move your hands to cup his face or even tangle in his hair, he would lose whatever thread of self control he possessed when it came to you.

So, Sanemi continues to kiss you slowly; indulgently. He never lets himself deepen it, never lets his tongue flick out along the seam of your lips in an effort to part them. He simply moves his lips with yours for a moment longer before he finally pulls away, though his fingers linger under your chin.

Only centimeters separate your mouth from his, and Sanemi can feel the sweet warmth of your breath as he whispers, “We should pick out a movie.”

You nod after a moment, still too stooped in the haze of his closeness to you. Reluctantly, Sanemi shifts away, his hand dropping from your chin. You don’t see how he flexes it over and over when you turn away to fidget with your remote, Sanemi unable to shake off the memory of your skin under his fingertips.

He watches the movie without really seeing it; his mind is far too preoccupied with replaying your kiss, over and over on a constant, never-ending loop.

He’d hoped that the small kiss would smother some of the fire that has been steadily consuming him over the last few months. A temporary respite to the near constant pang of longing he felt in his chest every time he looked at you.

What a stupid fucking idea that had been.

Because, as Sanemi sits beside you, limbs rigid under the incessant buzz thrumming in his veins, urging him to reach over and lay you back against the rug and make you his, he realizes your kiss was only a gallon of gasoline dumped directly over his fire.

And, judging by the way you keep your eyes fixed resolutely on the screen before you despite the persistent heat in your cheeks, Sanemi thinks you might be just as hungry for him as he is for you.

Oh, he’s fucked.

likes/reblogs/comments always appreciated!

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #kny fic #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer smut #kny smut #sanemi smut #demon slayer sanemi #shinazugawa sanemi

151 notes · View notes

solarmorrigan · 1 day

Text

Open Doors, part 2

Part 1 | Ao3

Tags: POV Outsider, Steve Harrington Has Migraines, Protective Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has Abandonment Issues, Eddie Munson Has Control Issues, it's okay though they love each other and they'll work on it, Past Domestic Violence, (not between any of the main characters; does not go into detail), Arguing, the looming specter of period-typical homophobia, Happy Endings Only I promise

The walls in the building are hardly paper-thin, but they aren’t that thick, either. Gladys registers, if distantly, when the sound of raised voices travels from one of the other apartments down the hall. The sound of a door slamming not long after that is a bit louder.

She’s tempted to get up and see who it is that’s apparently storming out—just a quick peek—but she’s really hit a stride in her knitting and can’t be bothered to get up.

Of course, she has no choice when her doorbell rings about half an hour later.

Whoever she’d expected to find on the other side, it hadn’t been Steve – at least, she hadn’t been expecting Steve with his shoulders slumped and his eyes a bit red, trying to smile and give her a little wave like everything is completely normal.

“Hey, Gladys. Are you, um– busy?”

“Just knitting,” Gladys answers, peering at him carefully through her thick glasses. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing, really, I just– y’know, just thought I’d come say ‘hi’.” Steve shrugs; his voice is convincing, but his posture tells another story, his body holding itself tense and curled-in, like it’s trying to protect him.

Gladys steps aside. “Come on in.”

Steve lets out a little sigh, something almost relieved in it as he crosses the threshold.

“Something to drink?” Gladys asks as she shuts the door behind him.

“Sure, if you’re having something,” Steve says.

Gladys glances at the clock. It’s after eight, and Steve’s never said no to an evening cup of coffee, but something tells her he doesn’t need any caffeine right now. “I’ll make us some tea,” she decides.

They trade pleasantries while the water boils and the tea steeps, but once they’re both seated at her little kitchen table, mugs in hand, Gladys sees no reason in beating around the bush.

“Was that you boys yelling?” she asks.

Steve, his posture still tense, somehow goes even stiffer in his chair. “You heard that?”

“Nothing clearly, but the walls aren’t that thick.” Gladys pauses, considering. “Heard the door slam, too.”

Pursing his lips, Steve nods. “Yeah, we, uh… got into it a little, I guess,” he says quietly, eyes trained on the table.

“Over what?”

Steve sighs, letting his head drop for a moment as he rubs at the back of his neck. “Stupid stuff,” he says. “I think it started over whose turn it was to do the dishes?”

Gladys nods, taking a quiet sip of her tea and encouraging him to go on.

“It’s just– Eddie hasn’t been letting me do them,” Steve huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You know, that’s not the complaint I expected,” Gladys raises a brow. “Most people are happy when someone does the dishes for them.”

“I mean– yeah, I was kind of enjoying it at first, but it’s been over a week and it’s just getting annoying. And he doesn’t do them right! He puts things in the dishwasher that don’t belong in the dishwasher!” Steve insists. “Which… I may have shouted at him about. And then he told me that I’m too fussy. I’m not goddamn fussy.”

He’s a little fussy, but Gladys keeps that thought to herself for the moment.

“He gets into these moods where he won’t let me do anything. Like, he just kind of takes over, decides for me what I’m capable of doing.” Steve reaches out and clutches his mug, though he makes no move to drink from it. “Like I don’t know my own body’s limitations, or like we don’t both know what my migraine triggers are. Doing chores around the house isn’t one of them.”

Ah. So that’s what this is all about.

It’s been nearly two weeks since Gladys had found Eddie caring for Steve and his migraine; he’d said that day it had been a bad one, and he hadn’t been kidding. Steve had been lain up another two days after that, and even then, when Gladys had next seen him, he’d still looked a bit pale. Eddie himself had looked drawn and tired, hovering much closer to Steve than he usually did outside the apartment.

“You scared him, I think, last week,” Gladys says. “He worries about you.”

“What, like I don’t worry about him?” Steve snaps. “He– There was… a few years ago, there was sort of a freak earthquake in our town. And Eddie, he– he was hurt pretty badly.”

Gladys has seen hints of scars on Eddie’s sides and arms when he’s been puttering around his own home in loose, loungey clothes, just the same as she can plainly see the faded scar wrapped around Steve’s neck, and some on the backs of his arms when he wears short sleeves. The more she gets to know her boys, the more she wonders about them – worries about them. But she supposes now isn’t the time to press.

“He healed up really well, like, all things considered. I made sure he went to all his physical therapy appointments and everything, but I know there are days when he still feels it, and he just pushes through, and he never gets enough sleep, and he just–” Steve leaves off with a harsh sigh. “I know he’s trying to help, but he just stresses me out every time he does this.”

He takes a sullen sip of his tea, and Gladys nods.

“You know, when Avery and I got married, my mother told me that when we fought, we should never go to bed angry–”

Steve’s eyes snap back to Gladys, startled and wide. “Eddie and I aren’t married–”

“–but that’s just bunk.” Gladys catches herself, shaking her head. “Both bits. The bit about not going to bed angry and the bit about you and Eddie not being married. I’m sure you would be, if you could be.”

Letting out the most forced laugh Gladys has ever heard, Steve shakes his head. “Why would we be married? I mean we’re both– and even if that was possible, Eddie is just my roommate. I mean– he’s one of my best friends, obviously, but we’re not–”

“Steve,” Gladys cuts in dryly, “how dumb do you think I am?”

Steve grimaces. “I don’t think you’re dumb,” he mutters.

Taking in the way his shoulders are drawn up around his ears, the way he’s let go of his mug and has pushed back just a bit from the table, like he’s preparing to get up and leave—to run from her, of all people—Gladys places a gentle hand on his arm before he can draw away entirely.

“It’s okay, dear,” she tells him. “You’re safe with me.”

“I– You don’t… care?” Steve asks carefully.

“Why should I care? Are you two hurting anyone?”

“Of course not.” Steve shakes his head, frowning. “But a lot of people have shitty stuff to say about– people like us. How we’re disgusting, or how we should be illegal, or– stuff like that.”

Gladys snorts. “A lot of people are ridiculous.”

Steve shrugs, sitting back in his chair. “At this point, I just… don’t assume anyone is on our side. And I know that sounds awful, but it’s kept us safe.”

Gladys blows out a long sigh and takes a deep pull from her mug. She doesn’t drink anymore, but some conversations still feel like they should be had over glasses of liquor; she supposes the tea will have to do.

“You know, Avery and I grew up together. We lived down the street from each other, but we spent more time at my house than at his. He didn’t like being at home. His mother was the sweetest woman you’d ever meet – kind and soft-spoken and gentle. But if she was the sweetest, then his father was the meanest.” Gladys pauses, lost for a moment in her thoughts. “He hit her. He screamed at her, belittled her. He took that good, kind woman and ground her down and used her up until there was nothing left, and no one did a god damned thing. I remember being so baffled as a child, why everyone just let it happen. I still don’t understand.

“That should have disgusted people. That should have been illegal,” Gladys says sharply, looking back up at Steve. “There are men out there hitting their wives, women screaming at their husbands, but the relationships everyone feels the need to stop are the ones with two men kissing each other? That’s the great evil?”

Steve gives her a tiny, sardonic smile. “Sometimes it’s the ones with two women.”

“Oh, of course, how could I overlook that?” Gladys rolls her eyes. “People need to gain some perspective. You and Eddie love each other, that much is clear. You’re good to each other. Why should I care about anything else?”

Slowly, Steve shakes his head. “I guess you shouldn’t.”

“You guess right,” Gladys says, nodding. “Now, about my mother’s advice.”

“My mom used to say that, too. About not going to bed angry,” Steve says. “Used to wonder how she got any sleep, then, considering how much time she spent being mad at my dad.”

Gladys hums. “Well, like I said: bunk. Not every little fight can be resolved before bedtime. Sometimes you need to sleep on it. Sometimes you need time to cool off. Sometimes you need a little space. The important part is that you’ll both be there in the morning,” she says. “The important part is that you don’t give up.”

Steve only seems to wilt at that, staring into his mug. “I’m not sure Eddie will be there in the morning. He left. I ended up coming over here because the apartment just didn’t feel right without him there.”

“I can sympathize,” Gladys says, and Steve winces.

“Sorry,” he says, glancing up. “This must seem kinda petty to you.”

“I said I understand.” Gladys reaches out and grips Steve’s wrist, giving it an affectionate little shake. “I don’t think it’s silly at all.”

Steve manages a twitch of a smile, but it falls quickly. “I just… What if I managed to chase him away? I’m really not sure what I’d do if he didn’t want to come back.”

“Well that’s silly,” Gladys declares. “Steve, you couldn’t chase that man away if you tried. He looks at you like you hung the stars. You’re the sun he orbits around.”

This time, Steve’s smile lasts more than a moment, small as it is. “You’re starting to sound like him.”

“Good, then maybe you’ll listen to me. Mark my words, he’ll be back,” Gladys says.

Steve nods; he still looks uncertain, but Gladys figures she’s sure enough for the both of them. She’s seen the way they look at each other, the way the act around each other, now that she knows what to look for. They’re more than just smitten; there’s a sort of baked-in trust and understanding there that doesn’t come easily, and she doubts if it will be shaken by a single shouting match.

All the same, she lets Steve change the subject after that, following along as he relays some gossip about some of his classmates, and they keep talking until some time later, when Gladys’ doorbell rings for a second time that evening.

She and Steve exchange confused glances before Gladys gets up and moves to the hallway to answer the door. And there, looking just as worn and worried as Steve, is Eddie.

“Hey, Gladys,” he greets, lacking his usual charming grin. “I just wanted to ask if Steve had been by here at all? He wasn’t at the apartment and– uh…”

He trails off, his gaze snapping to the hallway behind Gladys, and she doesn’t have to turn around to know that Steve is standing there.

“Hey,” Steve says quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie blurts. “For yelling. And for leaving. And for other stuff. But especially for leaving. I’m really, really sorry about that.”

Gladys shuffles a bit to the side, since she’s apparently been forgotten, anyway.

“It’s okay,” Steve says. “I’m sorry, too. For yelling, and for other stuff that we should probably talk about.”

Eddie nods, biting down on the tiny, hopeful smile that’s tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Can we go home?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees quickly. “Let’s go home.”

Eddie’s hand twitches at his side, like he’s fighting the urge to reach out, but Steve goes to him anyway. Before he’s out the door, however, he pivots and turns to Gladys, wrapping her up in a quick hug.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

“Any time, dear,” Gladys says, patting him on the back before he releases her. “I’ll still expect you both on Sunday.”

The boys exchange a quick glance.

“We’ll be here,” Steve says, and Eddie nods along.

“Neither wild horses nor our own stupidity could keep us away,” Eddie declares, and Steve snorts.

They walk close together as they head back to their own apartment, their knuckles occasionally bumping between them. Gladys hovers by the door just long enough to hear Steve as he tells Eddie, “So she knows everything.”

“I knew it,” Eddie hisses.

Gladys shuts her door with a laugh.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #solar wrote #I know the tags make this look very serious but it's pretty soft I promise

171 notes · View notes