#which is why she never crashes and burns out

[wornkindness]

this is one of those things that deserves a much longer meta because it's been rattling around in my brain for ages. but there's a lot actually about tcw amelia struggles with, pretty much from the start. it only gets worse as the wars going on. she says nothing about it to anyone outside of a very select small group of people. one of them being her father. tbh she spends more time making sure everyone else is taken care of so they don't crumble under the weight of everything before at all looking to herself

[bazelgeuce]

I can't sleep :(

Rant in tags it's long

[fatal-blow]

growing up, my mum always told me, whenever i went to the doctors or any sort of health professional, that it was important that i told them that i was hypermobile. she'd done the tests with me (herself being hypermobile and disabled in large part because of it) and though she didn't know the details, she knew that hypermobility was important to have in my health record.

so it was to my great surprise and displeasure that, whenever i told doctors i was hypermobile, it was skipped over. never addressed, never touched on, not even a comment to belie what that meant for me. i myself didn't know the impact hypermobility could have on a person, but my mother had been insistent about that fact. it was important, so why did no one else seem to think so?

i grew up with kids in school who were on the extreme ends of hypermobility. i knew a boy in middle school who could put both feet behind his head. i knew a girl in high school with long, spindly fingers who showed me how far backwards her arm could bend.

both of them had health problems, which became more profound as they aged. i never knew the details, but it stuck out that they were hypermobile, and so was i, and with my own health declining there HAD to be a connection.

common knowledge gives the vague definition of hypermobility as extra stretchy muscles, of being double-jointed. it comes with warnings not to push your hypermobile body into the extremes. don't overextend, you will hurt yourself.

the warnings are warranted. the importance isn't overplayed. these things i knew, but i didn't know why. and without knowing why, they were warnings that i could never truly obey, despite how conservative i became with my movements in a vain attempt to protect what little ability i had left.

hypermobility is NOT stretchy muscles. muscles are supposed to stretch. in fact, it's important to their health (those conservative movements prolly hurt more than helped!). hypermobility affects connectives tissues, and lands under the umbrella of Ehlers-Danlos Sydromes (there are a few) which can range in severity from affecting skin and tendons to affecting blood vessels and organs.

severity is rare, and much easier to catch. this post is for the people who are "a little hypermobile" so that they can understand what makes their body different.

a muscle and its associated tendons are like a hammock. the muscle is the fabric you lie in, stretching to accomodate the load. tendons are the rope that attaches the fabric to the trees, providing a secure anchor for the muscle to operate.

so, what happens when the ropes on the hammock are also stretchy? well, you sit in the hammock and your ass hits the ground.

now imagine that the fabric of the hammock has the ability to clench like a muscle. a normal hammock doesn't need to work that hard to stop ass from meeting ground, because it has sturdy anchors. a hammock with stretchy rope, however, must exert several times more effort, because the more the muscle pulls, the more the tendons stretch.

in short, hypermobility forces your muscles to work harder, because they must first pass the threshold of stretch the tendons are capable of before it can actually do the task it's meant to do. the stretchier the tendons, the harder the muscle needs to clench, the easier it is to overwork.

this info reframed everything i was doing with my body. small tasks of strength required the effort of much larger tasks, and larger tasks ranged from extremely difficult to impossible. holding my arms up so i could work above my head required monumental effort. with an anatomical peculiarity of the feet, i needed to use several muscles in my calves and hips just to stand without losing balance.

so no fucking wonder i crashed and burned in my 20s, when everything i did took all of my strength to accomplish. no wonder i would contort myself out of shape, so flexible that i could anchor myself into extreme poses just to give my muscles a moment of relief, overstretching myself without ever realizing why, and what damage i could be doing.

so, some things to remember:

overextending isn't good for you, but it shouldn't be your biggest concern. instead, be aware of overexertion, both how LONG you are using a muscle without breaks and how HARD you are using it.

small, frequent breaks are your best friend if you need to do something for awhile.

when you take breaks, stretch the muscles you'd been using.

if you need to exert effort to maintain a pose (whether it's sitting, standing, etc) examine whether you need to be clenching those muscles, and why.

actually whenever you are using muscles, try to train yourself to use as few as possible. you can practice by sitting or standing, and relaxing as many muscles as you can before you tip over. finding a sense of balance can make your life so much easier.

become acquainted with what relaxed muscles feel like. chronic tension can distort your perception of this, and result in habitual tension.

so yeah. if you're hypermobile, that's important. don't let a doctor's dismissal make you think otherwise. take care of yourself and know what you are and aren't capable of.

[tacticaldiary]

A Cracked And Fissured Door

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"You just...you make me feel like you only want me when nobody's looking."

It stings, if she's being honest. Being kept at an arms length when in public. Most people know about them, so she's not sure why he's so...cold and distant when they're not alone.

Masterlist

"If he sends us out before next week I'm quitting." Soap groans, back cracking as he flops down forward on the bar. "Three ops in a week? What do I look like, a machine?"

Gaz snickers, raising his glass to that. "Bloody might well be at this point."

She hides a smile behind her own drink, leaning back into the bar. They had done three ops in a week, mission after mission after mission. It had been pretty rough, just as Soap said and she was more than ready to crash and burn and sleep for three days straight but abandoning their tradition of getting drinks at this specific bar everything Saturday was not something anyone on the 141 was willing to break.

"Just be glad we got the weekend off." Ghost says from beside her. She smiles warmly at him, is rewarded with a slightly blank look.

The flicker of her smile is hid behind another sip.

"Betcha your gonna take advantage of that, eh?" Soap nudges her, looking pointedly between her and Ghost. The latter rolls his eyes and says nothing.

"Only thing I'm looking forward to is an actual mattress." She knocks back the last of her drink and stands, shrugging Gaz's arm slung over her shoulder. "Speaking of which, I think it's about time we call it a night." Casting a glance at her boyfriend, who merely nods in confirmation and pushes the stool back himself, she nods at the others. "Don't cause too much trouble, boys. Text us when you're home safe, yeah?"

"We just got shot at for a week, don't think a car ride home is gonna be the end of us." Soap snorts.

"You never know." Is all she says before stepping out of the bar with Ghost, who offers her her coat to shrug on.

"Hell of a week." She comments, glancing at him gratefully as she shrugs on the warm fabric.

"Just glad it's over," Simon says simply.

Walking back to their car, she can't help but cast quiet glances at him as they walk. She knows Ghost notices them, chooses to keep looking ahead and keep the silence.

Truth be told, she aches to touch him.

Aches to feel his skin on hers, to feel the callouses of his hands brush against hers. His heat, ever all-encompassing makes her feel safe in a way no bulletproof vest ever could.

"Think I might ask Price to assign me desk duty for a while." She jokes, knocking their shoulders together gently.

To the untrained eye, to someone who might not have been tuned to what makes Simon Simon, it wouldn't have been noticeable, but he leans subtly away so they don't touch again.

She doesn't mention it, but it makes her heart heavy.

It's nothing new. She's not sure why she's even surprised anymore.

Trying again, her arm hangs beside her, purposefully brushing against his gloves. The frown on her face deepens when he shoves his hands into his pockets.

Maybe it's the exhausting week she's had, but it gets to her, infects her heart, mind, and soul with the insecurity she keeps locked behind a cracked and fissured door in her mind.

It stings, if she's being honest.

He's not the most...social person. Closed off and private, but baring her soul to someone she loves and getting so little in return...

Being kept at an arm's length when in public, even though their relationship is not a secret. Most people know, actually, so she's not sure why he's so...cold and distant when they're not alone.

The car ride home is silent, but not in a comfortable way their quiet is usually shared. Simon seems to pick up on it, because he grips the steering wheel a little too hard, the tension in his shoulders a little too foreign.

Gaz had no problem touching her. A friendly punch to the arm, an arm around her shoulder. Soap was a touchy person by nature, nudging her and ruffling her hair.

So why was it that Simon always pulled away?

The one person who should love her the most, who should be proud of loving her...why does he pull away and pretend this thing between them doesn't exist.

She doesn't get it, hasn't understood for the past two years they've been together. Pushing was not something she'd considered given his stubbornness and private nature, but there's no denying she's always felt a twinge of hurt whenever he disregards her in public.

Was he...ashamed? Of her? Did he not want to be seen with her?

The thought latches itself onto her, sucking away the usual confidence she carries and leaving her a nervous mess. It makes her sick. Before she knows it they're back home but she can't find herself to walk any farther than the front door that's shut behind her.

He doesn't comment on it, just casts her an inquisitive look before moving to the kitchen in view.

Simon always did like a cup of tea before bed.

"Simon?" The word comes out a little garbled, caught in her indecision, and morphed into something muffled. He hears it, because of course he does, and hums. Doesn't look up from where he's rifling through the cupboards for his kettle.

The air is cold in her lungs, freezes up with nerves, and this is all so ridiculous. It's stupid and she shouldn't be feeling this way but she does because she just does.

Trust was a precious jewel, a diamond only given to those who trusted enough to keep it unmarred. Necklaces and earrings and bracelets, she feels like she could make millions of intricate pieces with the bits of trust she had bared for Simon to take and keep as his own.

Simon knows what she loves, what she hates, how she feels about anything and everything. The rhyme and reasons, the way she ticks, and what throws her off kilter. He knows it all, it's been given willingly and eagerly to the man who took her heart with that rough demeanour on the tarmac two years ago.

She had given him all her gems, the shiniest and the dullest ones, but he's never even been bothered to spare her a piece of coal.

When she doesn't speak immediately, he pauses his movements and sets down the kettle on the counter with a 'clink'. "What's the matter, love?" He straightens up.

"Do you want to be with me?" She blurts out, unable to fathom leaving this conversation for another day. Not when she's so worked up and hurt and feeling.

His face stays blank, and when he responds it's almost as if he's doing it carefully. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I asked." The sides of her coat are clutched with a knuckle-white grip, nausea making her an inch away from ruining the lovely carpet they'd picked out together when they'd first moved in.

Simon furrows his brows. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"That's not what I asked." Unease starts to curl up in her gut. "Do you like me, Simon?"

"Of course I fucking like you, what are you talking about?"

"You sure don't act like it."

There.

It's in the open now. Simon stares at her for a moment, shocked or stunned or whatever emotion that causes him to clam up for a moment.

He never really was good at this part of their relationship, but this...it was vital. It was important because she refuses to let this problem define what they have together.

"You don't touch me when we're not alone." She starts, "You act like I'm just no one when we're out together. You barely acknowledge me any more than anybody else, pull away when I try to touch you." It feels good to let this all off her chest. Months and months of trying to figure out what was going on. "Tell me why. I just want to know why."

"I'm a private person-"

"No Simon, that's not what this is." She shakes her head, emotion rising inside her. "You just...you make me feel like you only want me when nobody's looking. Like I'm...like you want to keep me a secret."

Her eyes are glassy because saying it hurts so fucking much, but it needs to be said. It needs to be voiced, he needs to listen and acknowledge-

"You know that's not true, so it shouldn't be a bloody problem-"

"Do I?" A laugh burst out of her, unexpected and short. It's enough to cut him off, cause him to narrow his eyes. "You've never told or indicated that to me. Not once. Not in two years."

"It's common sense. I wouldn't be with you if I didn't want you." She can tell he's trying to stay level, to meet her in the middle but all caution gets thrown to the wind because is he really trying to argue with her on this?

"No, it's not." She insists, trying not to raise her voice as anger bubbles up inside her. Was he not getting it? Not understanding that this was hurting her? That he was hurting her? "Sometimes I-..." She swallows, "Sometimes I'll be having a great time, like today. I'll be laughing and enjoying myself and then I'll glance at you, or try and do something as simple as brush shoulders, and I'll watch you push me away. Or pull away." Her voice waver but she fights to keep it steady. "And it makes me feel miserable because what is it about me that makes my own boyfriend not want to accidentally touch me?"

"Why didn't you tell me before?" He says, hackles raised at being put on the spot like this. Ghost doesn't mean to, but this is all so new to him and the only thing he knows how to do in these rapidly changing situations is to be sharp and jagged and tense. "If you're so miserable, why are you still here?"

"Because I love you!" She cries out. "And I can't help but think that I might never get the same back from you." Her grip on her coat tightens.

There's a beat of silence.

"I never asked you to. You knew what you were getting yourself into."

His words cut through the quiet, as sharp as the blades he keeps strapped to his thigh.

"Oh, fuck you." She whispers. "Don't give me that bullshit. That's not an excuse for not trying-"

"Not trying?" His voice gets slightly louder. "I try every day. I try to be someone you deserve but you're bloody well making it difficult when-"

"Just stop!" She yells over him. "Stop. I'm not asking for something you can't give. I'm just asking for an explanation."

"I can't-"

"You can!" To her dismay, her eyes burn with tears that are bound to fall in a few seconds, but she's too far into it to turn around now. "It's been two fucking years, Simon. Two years. I've never pushed or pressured you, I've listened and sat here and tried to be the one you can come to, but you never do." She sniffles, wiping her tears away roughly.

He stays silent, visibly frustrated but letting her talk.

"Do you know what they say back at base?" She spits out. "About me? They say I've forced you into being with me." A hollow laugh. "That I've got some dirt on you that keeps you quiet, or that I'm just someone you pass the time at night with because everyone thinks that you want nothing to do with me during the day. They talk about why we're still together, why you're still with me when you clearly have no interest." Her tears are long forgotten, left to trail down her cheeks in rivers of hurt. "They say...they say I'm only on the 141 because of our relationship."

And that was what hurt the most. Her own skills undermined like that.

That startles him enough to pull his brows in confusion "I didn't know..."

"Of course you don't, why would they say it in front of the man who looks like he could snap their spines in half?"

She waits for him to speak. To say something, anything, but all he does is stare at her with those half-blank eyes that she can never decipher and it infuriates her because did he not just listen to what she's told him.

"You know what, forget it." She chokes out. "I'm done. I'm fucking done with this." She gestures to them both, vaguely watching his eyes widen with muted panic. Getting shoved into a woodchipper would be less painful than the hurt that tears through her chest, hiccupping on swallowed sobs.

"Hold on-"

"I can't be the only one keeping us both afloat." She reaches behind her for the doorknob. "I don't want that. I love you, Simon. I really do, but it hurts so fucking much when you act like I'm disposable, like you're ashamed of being seen with me."

The door is pulled open by her, and then roughly shoved shut by Simon. He moves quicker than she could register, behind the counter one moment and right in front of her the next. His hand stays firmly on the door, keeping it shut as he leans down to catch her gaze.

"Ashamed is the last thing I am about you." He says quickly, clumsily. "I-...fucking hell that's not right at all, love."

Simon is...he's panicking.

The thought strikes her immediately with the way his chest rises and falls quickly, the lack of that cold clipped grace in his voice.

"I don't care." She chokes on a cry, hands planting themselves firmly on his chest to shove him away. It's like nudging a brick wall. The man is immovable, standing in place with their bodies so close it feels like they're sharing heat. "I'm tired, and you're making it worse so let me go." He grabs her wrists, presses them against himself to keep her in place. His hands are warm, rid of the gloves he usually dons.

She's met with every inch of that scarred face of his. She hadn't noticed but he'd discarded his mask as he'd been rushing around the counter to get to her.

"Listen to me." He breathes, trying to get his thoughts straight and keep her there with him. He can't lose her, can't let her walk out the door because he's afraid that she might never come back. "Please."

It's the last word that pauses her struggle. Simon...he was someone who operated on orders and demands so the frantic and silent plea pushed into the word is enough to make her still for a moment.

And a moment is all he needs.

"I've never..." He thinks for a moment. Never has she seen him look so frazzled. He tries again. "Everyone I've ever loved has been killed." Her eyes widen at the declaration. "My family. My friends...everyone." His breath fans over her face with how he's leaned down, hot so very him. "I think I'm afraid if I show the world I love you it might try and take you from me too." Simon's voice breaks at the end, as if he's voiced something from his nightmares and despite the pain she's feeling the sound slices through her. "And I can't...I can't live with losing you too."

With bated breath, he waits for her to respond. Part of him can't bear to look her in the eyes after the admission but he finds himself staring at her face anyway, drinking in any sign of hope.

Hope. How long has it been since he's felt the warm rays of such a feeling?

Slowly, so slowly it makes his breath hitch, she tugs her hand free on his. For a moment Simon thinks she might push him away again and his heart sinks like a stone, but then her fingertips graze his face, her hands cup his cheeks and suddenly they interlock behind his head, pulling him in.

Simon crushes her into him, tucking her head under his chin with a shuddering breath of relief. He's not lost her, not completely.

Hope.

There was still such a thing for a man like him after all.

"I'm not going anywhere." She mumbles into the crook of his neck, the feeling of his lips moving on his skin sending a shiver up his spine. "I'm so sorry, Simon. If you'd told me that before I would have tried to help-..."

Simon shakes his head immediately, arms tightening around her. "I chose not to tell you. The thought of coming home and seeing you on the ground...bloody...like them." He swallows past the lump in his throat. "Fuck, I'm sorry I hurt you, sweetheart."

Simon didn't apologise often, so when he did that means he knows he's fucked up.

She does not tell him it's alright, that she forgives him or that he's fine. Because he's not. His apology, his honesty doesn't make the months of hurt go away. It still aches at her like before, but this time the ache has a meaning behind it. It has a reason.

They hold each other for a moment, against the door, two people knee-deep in a problem that's been brewing for weeks and weeks, bubbled over the edge in the ugliest way possible.

"I need you to try." She whispers after a moment, the barest of smiles gracing her face when he nods slowly.

"I know." He says simply against her hair. Gently swaying in each other's hold, both are content to stay there for a while, to calm their racing hearts with the knowledge that the other is still there, is real and solid under their hands.

And it's enough.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Change is a slow trek to an ever extending finish line.

Simon keeps his word. If there's anything it's good at, it's resilience. Though it makes him antsy and paranoid and dare he say slightly nervous to open such a part of him to somebody again, he tries.

He tried because he'd rather saw his own arm off than be the one who gives her a reason to leave. Not her. Not the best thing that's happened to him in years, the person who's managed to wake up Simon after years of being Ghost.

A subtle brush of hands as they walk.

An arm around her shoulder while they drink.

Thighs and sides pressed together as they take their seats on a heli.

The squeeze of her knee from under the table.

It builds and builds into something warm and new and fresh, a feeling that overshadows all the worry he had about the universe having a vendetta against him because if there was one good thing that Simon Riley wanted to keep, it was her.

Their weekend is filled with conversations, real conversations about things they've kept to themselves, worries and concerns, and moments of hesitance. He tries his best, though some words die on his tongue before he can get them out. She pushes him, but never more than he can take. Heart, body, and soul, she knows him like the back of her hand but he's the only one who can truly let her into his mind.

All that aside Simon also has another more personal task to work through once their weekend is over.

After paying some not-so-nice visits to more than a dozen people (to his absolute fury), she never once hears a peep of another disgusting rumour ever again.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(26/07/2023)

[boulevardk]

Caught in the Moment (Help, I'm Stuck!)

pairing: gojo satoru x reader (f)

genre: stepbrother!gojo + smut

word count: 6k

summary: When your Mom remarries, a certain white-haired, blue-eyed demon enters your life in the role of your new step brother. It doesn't matter how angelic he looks, he's nothing short of the devil. And while you've never been very close with your family, Gojo wants to be a whole lot closer to you than a step brother should be. But, hey, family comes first, right? Gojo sure thinks so.

warnings: stepcest (the people who like it, love it and the people who hate it wanna burn my house down for writing it), language, gojo's a brat, the stuck-in-washer bs from h*ntai, dubcon bordering on noncon?????? (open to interpretation, honestly), fingering & oral (f receiving), penetration (p in v), creampie, low key breeding kink, degradation with some hints of praise on the side like if you squint real hard, squirting, some anal (f receiving)

A/N: i will take no questions as to where I have been or why I was gone. i also write for some anime now too lmao. i miss satoru and I'm pissed at gege and I need an outlet bc these new manga chapters are giving me grey hairs. also, this is like 45% proofread max. oh, and thanks for 2k followers <3 ... i rarely come on here anymore, so I didn't notice until now.

xx Jay

You were never much of a family person. It’s not like your Mom made it very easy after divorcing your Dad and hopping from dick to dick like the floor was lava. New weekend? New date. Summer getaway? Fresh boytoy. Spring break? New guy to break her back- if her obnoxious moans were anything to go by. 

Overall, you were as much of a family person as your Mom was- noncommittal and unwilling to settle down. And you carried over that same distant, superficial behavior to any of your past romantic relationships… which always ended just about as quickly as your Mom’s did. Your closest friends liked to joke that poor taste in men and a lack of commitment to relationships were perhaps the only things you and your Mom shared in common. And you’d both been that way for as long as you could remember.

Which is why you heard a record scratch in your head when your Mom announced practically out of nowhere that she was engaged and soon to be married. Apparently, this was “the one” and “her knight in shining armor”, or so she claims. She’d have periods of puppy love infatuation every now and then with one of her flings, but since your Dad left the picture, none of your Mom’s relationships had led to a ring on her finger- much less a mansion to share with her new fiance.

The moving process proceeded as quickly as your Mom’s relationship had. In the blink of an eye, all your belongings were packed away nicely in boxes and placed in the back of a truck, soon to be parked in the driveway of your new house. It was as if your Mom wanted to move in together with her latest obsession before her new man realized how horrible of a wife she’d make. Your Dad could attest to that. 

The news about the engagement and rushed move all hit you suddenly, sure. But no amount of new information or experiences could have crashed into you quite as hard as your new step brother.

Literally. 

“Ow, fuck,” you rubbed your side, “Watch where you’re going.”

Gojo Satoru. 

Despite the angelic features, this boy was nothing short of the devil. Whenever you were bored, you’d flip through TV channels and stumble across trashy reality shows where rich people drank alcohol like it was water, partied until the sun came up, and had money to burn. You’d laugh at the over the top antics. Surely you’d never run into someone who actually behaved that way, right?

You wish you were wrong. 

Gojo turns around and lets out a chuckle, “My bad, sweets. I’m not used to having such dwarfs living here. The air must be a lil’ different down there, yeah?”

He places his palm on the top of your head and gives it a pat, smirk painted on his lips. You bat his hand away and take a step back, “You say that is if you’re not ducking to keep your head from hitting the door frame. I’m not tall, you're just freakishly tall.”

Smirking at you, he leans a bit closer to your face. He smells of strawberries, you note.

“Well, you know what they say about tall guys with big hands, right? Do you wanna find out if the rumors are true? I’ll give you a hint,” He takes another step closer, “they’re more than true. And all ya gotta do is step into my room and see for yourself.”

You bristle. 

His loud music? His rowdy friends that came over? His unwillingness to wash dishes? None of that came close to the bullshit that came from Gojo’s mouth. If it wasn’t suggestive comments spilling from his mouth, it was outright filth. 

Somewhere in Gojo’s mind, you two being in the city for the summer and practically home alone given your parents were constantly out doing God knows what meant it was open season to flirt and harass you mercilessly. It started as brushing your shoulder and occasionally touching your lower back when he would move past you in the hallway or kitchen, and now it progressed to… this. 

Stepping back like you’d been burned, you look at him with irritation, “Are you on crack? Is it crack that you smoke?”

He quirks his head to the side with a little smile on his face, “Whatcha mean, sweetheart? Don’t Mom and Dad want us to bond?”

You bring your hands to your head to massage your temples, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say… any of what you just said.”

Turning around you begin to walk away, “Keep all your pervy comments to yourself, clean your dishes in the sink, and stay out of my way. I’m supposed to be on summer break, for fuck’s sake. I didn’t come back home from one headache to live next door to another.”

Gojo’s lips curl upwards at that as he tilts his head to the side to get a nicer view of your ass as you walk toward the other room. He knew he’d get you eventually, he just had to play the long game. Despite what the people around him thought, Gojo was no fool. He saw right through his Dad’s rushed engagement and gave the two love birds a few months tops before the relationship failed. And if his Dad was allowed to make foolish mistakes in the name of love (lust), then couldn’t he do the same? After all, it’s not like he’s ever going to see you again once the marriage falls through. 

He might as well enjoy this little…. sibling dynamic while it lasts, right? That’s what any good brother would do. And in that moment, Gojo decides to himself that he is that good brother. Oh, he’d be the best big brother. 

Despite the constant annoyances from the white-haired, blue-eyed demon spawn who resided in the house, you did appreciate the in-house washer and dryer. Lugging your dirty clothes from your apartment to the laundry room of your housing complex was quite the pain. 

Humming a tune to yourself, you walked to the dryer with an empty hamper held against your hip. Opening the dryer door, you leaned down and began to remove the items of clothing. You leaned in a bit further when you noticed a sock at the very back of the appliance. 

Rip

You froze. You’ve never been the religious type, but you prayed to whatever god existed that your favorite sweater did not just get caught in the door of the dyer. You held your breath and tried to pull back a little further.

Riiiip

This time the tear was louder and you could just picture the fabric coming loose. 

Biting your lip you tried to wiggle around a bit to find a way to back away from the dryer door without ruining your sweater even further. No luck. 

After some time bent over with your upper torso stuck in the dryer, you heard footsteps approaching the laundry room. 

“Thank God,” you breathed out, “Mom, can you lend me a hand? The fabric on my sweater is stuck to the door of the dryer, and I don’t want to pull away since it’ll rip the top even more.”

You felt a hand brush against your upper thigh, and your breath caught in your throat. 

“Oh, I’d love to help, sweetheart,” Gogo sighed, “But I can lend you a whole lot more than just a hand.” 

With as much strength as you could muster (given your upper body is stuck inside a godforsaken dryer), you kick behind yourself in an attempt to get him away from you… only to have him catch your foot in his large hand. 

“Oh,” he tsks, “That’s no way to treat your loving brother, is it? After all, I’m just trying to help my cute, helpless little sister.”

You grit your teeth, “So help me God, Gojo, if you touch me again, I’m going to rip your dick off and shove it down your throat.”

Although you can’t see him, you know he has that infuriating smirk painted on his face. “Nice to know you’ve got my dick on your mind, princess. Although I think I’d like my dick inside something else…”

Latching his hands onto your hips, he pulls your ass against him and grinds against you slowly. 

God, was it a bad day to have worn a skirt. 

“These skirts? These thighs?” he groans, “This ass? God, it’s like you’re begging me to take you. Seeing you leave the house with those skimpy little outfits on made me want to drag you to my room and fuck some manners into you. Maybe then you’d know not to show off what’s mine.”

You furrow your eyebrows so aggressively you know there’s guaranteed wrinkles. “What on earth are you talking about?” you spit, “Get the fuck away from me!”

You squirm some more but to no avail. He grabs your hips even tighter, and you feel the outline of something long and hard against your ass. You do everything in your power not to gasp. The last thing you want to do is give him the satisfaction of knowing how much this is affecting you. 

“You don’t get it, do you?” he asks in a taunting tone, “I’ve known since day one that your Mom and my Dad were never gonna last. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun of our own, right?” He grinds against you again, and the end of your skirt pushes higher up your thighs. “And I couldn’t believe my luck when I just so happened to be walking past the laundry room and spotted you all nice and vulnerable for me.”

“Gojo, this isn’t funny. Let go,” you bite back. 

“Oh, no, I think I’m gonna take my time and enjoy this,” he continues to roll his hips against yours and removes one of his hands from your hips to push your skirt up and over your ass, revealing your panties. “Black lace? You’re kidding me, sweetheart. It’s like you planned for this all along. You want me as bad as I want you, huh?”

You feel his fingers run along the elastic of your underwear and begin to slip them down your legs. This time, you really do gasp. And Gojo certainly heard it if his dark chuckle is anything to go by. 

“I’m not fucking around, Gojo,” you let out desperately, knowing where things are about to head, “This is fucked up. You’re my step brother, and there’s no way in hell I’d sleep with you. If you let me go now, I won’t tell our parents.”

By this point your panties are on the floor and your skirt isn’t covering any part of your ass. “Oh, go ahead and tell them, princess,” Gojo remarks as his fingers draw closer to your cunt. “Let ‘em know how good your step brother makes you feel. Family comes first. And in this case,” his longer digits finally reach your pussy, “you’ll be coming in more ways than one.”

He runs a finger up and down your slit, and as much as you try and fight back, your body gives into the pleasure, especially when his fingers reach your clit and begin to roll against the bundle of nerves. “Thaaaat’s it,” he purrs, “Almost like this body was made for me the way I know it like the back of my hand, hm?”

He picks up the pace at which he rubs your clit and suddenly inserts a finger inside your cunt. “Dripping already and you really had the nerve to pretend you didn’t want this. Kind of a sorry attempt to maintain your modesty, sweetheart.”

Pumping his finger in and out of you, you're beginning to lose the strength in your legs. If it weren’t for the fact that your upper torso was held up by the dryer, your legs might have given out. 

“G-Gojo, we shouldn’t-” 

He cuts you off, “You’re really going to tell me you don’t want this while you’re soaked already? Your mouth is saying one thing, but this pussy is saying another, sweetheart.”

As if to prove you wrong, he adds another finger and picks up the speed at which he’s scissoring your poor pussy. You let out a moan and allow yourself to push back against his fingers, barely mindful of your snagged sweater that landed you in this mess in the first place. 

You’re embarrassed to say (and you’d never admit this to Gojo), but you’re getting increasingly closer to your orgasm. You’ve been with your fair share of guys, sure, but no boy has ever made you feel as good as Gojo was making you feel right now. 

And that drove you nuts. 

Before you could stop yourself, you let out a moan. The pleasure of Gojo’s fingers on your clit and in your cunt was making your mind hazy and forgetful of the promise you made to yourself to not reveal how good Gojo was making you feel with his fingers alone. It was only a matter of time before your legs gave out completely if you’re being honest with yourself. 

“Oh?” Gojo asks tauntingly, “You enjoying yourself, pretty? What happened to that bratty mouth of yours? You just needed that attitude fucked right out of you, yeah?” 

Since Gojo already heard your moan and knew how your body was responding to his stimulation, you all but dropped your resolve and made no efforts to hold your noises back. After all, you were getting closer and closer to your release, and your brain hardly had the capacity to stay silent while taking his fingers. 

The lewd sounds of Gojo’s fingers pumping in and out of you were nothing short of filthy, and you’re almost ashamed to admit it turned you on even more. “Hear that?” Gojo asked as he continued his rhythm. “It’s like she’s calling out for me. You’re close, right?”

You whine at the question. 

“There’s no need to respond, sweetheart. I already know the answer,” Gojo quips with a smile. “But I think this pretty pussy of yours can be a bit louder… How about we pick up the pace a bit, yeah? Maybe add another finger? You can take it, right?”

Before you can respond, he adds another one of his long fingers and is plunging in and out of you at a mind bending pace. Your voice is shaky at best as you whine at the feeling. “Fuck,” you moan, “S-Sato-”

The white-haired boy smiles at your broken speech and the (attempted) use of his first name, “What was that, baby? Trying to moan your step brother’s name, let everyone know how deep his fingers are in your pussy?”

“Ugh,” you groan, trying to muster up the last bits of willpower you have left, “fuck you.”

He laughs at your comment and is half impressed that you’re still able to talk back. “Hm, still talking shit? Don’t worry, my tongue and cock will take care of that riiiight away. But first,” his pace gets impossibly faster, “you’re gonna cum all over my fingers.”

As if by magic, you came immediately after the words left his mouth. If you weren’t already a bit fucked out, you would have pondered how Gojo seemed to already know your body better than you did. 

Gojo pulls his fingers out of your sopping cunt and sucks them clean. “Hm,” he hums, “Tastes even better than I imagined. You’ll let me get another taste, right? I mean, that’s the least you can do for your step brother after he made you cum so nicely on his fingers.”

He slowly lowers himself to the floor as you process his words, and before you could formulate a response, his tongue is on your pussy. You gasp out and would be tempted to reach back and grab his hair if your arms weren’t stuck inside the damn dryer. 

Gojo groans into your pussy, “Fuck, sweetheart, you tasted amazing on my fingers, but I like it even better from the source.”

He dives back in and has you moaning out for more. The way he moves his lips up and down your slit and rolls his tongue around your clit feels heavenly, despite the fact that the boy is the devil himself. 

Your legs are growing noticeably weaker, and Gojo loops his arms around your lower thighs to keep you in place and pull your cunt closer to his greedy mouth. Even then, your lower half is twitching in stimulation. Despite the tremors, you try to push your hips against Gojo’s face even more, and he lets out a laugh at the feeling. If you could see Gojo, you would see how much your sounds and movements are affecting him. He’s already high on the feeling of tongue-fucking you. But from inside the dryer, you can’t see that he’s as hard as a fucking rock, and his leaking cock is straining against his sweatpants to the point where it’s almost painful. 

His tongue settles on your clit and begins to alternate from sucking to rubbing figure eights on the bud. You’re really hoping no one else is home. Because if someone is, there’s no way they wouldn’t hear your desperate moans that are only increasing in volume as Gojo continues to eat you out like your pussy is his last meal. 

“Satoru, that feels so fucking good,” you sigh, leaning your head down to rest against the wall of the dryer since you’re unable to keep it up. 

“Oh, it’s Satoru now, is it?” he asks mockingly as he leans back and lets his fingers continue the pleasure on your clit, “You’re telling me all I had to do to get on your nice side was suck on this pretty pussy? Sweetheart, I would have done that for free.”

He leans back in and latches his tongue to your clit once more, picking up the pace and intensity of his sucking. With the little leg strength you have left, you bounce the lower half of your body against Gojo’s mouth continuously in an attempt to increase the stimulation. 

‘She wants to ride my tongue, huh?’ Gojo thinks to himself. ‘She’ll have all the time in the world to do that when I get her to sit on my face.’

Gojo’s turned on even more at the thought of you suffocating him with your thighs as your cunt drops on to his lips. He’ll have to experience it soon before the idea drives him even closer to insanity. 

Fuck, he couldn’t get enough of you.

He moans into your pussy, and the vibrations almost make you cum on the spot. The feeling is so good your eyes are nearly rolling back in your head. You’re really glad Gojo can’t see your face or he’d never let you forget the fucked out look in your eyes. However, what you don’t know is that Gojo won’t let you forget how good he fucked you no matter what your facial expressions looked like- those were just the cherry on top. 

“I’m so close, Satoru,” you whine, “Please don’t stop.”

You continue to grind on his face, shaking with pleasure and beginning to feel beads of sweat form on your forehead from the heat of the tongue-fucking coupled with the warmth of the dryer. 

The dam broke when Gojo landed a loud smack on your ass. You yelped and your legs gave way fully as you released all over his face. Gojo licked up every last drop of your cum and left kisses around your inner thighs before he pulled away. 

“Damn,” he breathed out as he rubbed his hand against the cheek he just spanked, “I didn’t take you for the masochist type, little sis. Got any other secrets I should know about? Or should I just find them out myself?

You whine at the feeling of his hand on your ass. You know there’ll be a mark there tomorrow. But you couldn’t focus on the long-term consequences of what was happening right now in the laundry room. It was fucked up, of course, but it felt so good that you didn’t even care how wrong it was. 

“Satoru,” you spoke, voice a bit hoarse from moaning, “need you to fuck me.”

Gojo tilts his head in faux confusion, “What was that, princess? I didn’t quite catch that. I mean, you are stuck in the dryer, after all. How else would I have been able to get you this easy and exposed for me?”

You groan in equal parts irritation and desperation. If you weren’t so fucked out already, you would have certainly cussed him out by now. 

“I said,” you repeat more firmly, “I need you to fuck me.”

He hums, “What? No “please”? And here I thought I’d fucked some manners into you. I guess all you respond to is cock, huh?” He brings his hand down against your ass once more. “Why don’t you try again, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you beg, “Please, please, please fuck me, Satoru. I need your cock so bad.”

You know he’s got that bratty smile on his face when he hears your words. His little step sister wants his cock, and who is he to deny her?

He quickly pulls down his sweats and spits on it before pumping it a few times. He rubs the head of his cock up and down your slit before lining it up with your entrance. 

“Wait,” you manage to snap out of your daze, “Satoru, we need condoms.”

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, “Condoms? Baby, don’t you trust your step brother? You know I’m clean.”

You open your mouth to refuse, but your mind gets more and more hazy as he rubs his cock against your folds. 

“And besides,” Gojo grunts, “You’ll be begging for my cum soon enough.”

Without another word, Gojo slides into you. You curse out loud. He’s not even all the way in, and he feels fucking huge. The tip alone is wide enough that the ring of your pussy stretches uncomfortably and you feel it sting. And, fuck, even though it feels like he’s been pushing in for forever, he’s still not done. 

“Fucking, fuck,” you gasp, “Are you all the way in yet?

You can’t see his length, but as he pushes deeper and deeper inside your wet pussy, you suspect he’s got to be somewhere around 9 inches at least. Of course, the rich, popular, pretty boy has a massive cock, because he’s just so infuriatingly perfect.

“Just about, sweetheart,” he hisses and finally bottoms out, “What? Don’t tell me you want to back out now. You’re the one who wanted this, remember? My bratty little slut of a step sister can’t take the cock she begged for just a minute ago?”

You bite your lip and try to adjust to his gigantic length. Once the burn subsides, you feel the pleasure seep in. You’ve never felt so full. It was as if he were in your guts, and if you could look at your abdomen, you’d see his cock bulging from your tummy. You could only imagine how much fuller you’d feel when he actually came.

And although you had been apprehensive earlier, now the idea of Gojo cumming deep inside you nearly had you drooling. Better yet, his cock is so massive that instead of drooling saliva, you imagined his cum dripping from your mouth because he had filled up your pussy past the brim. 

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer, sweetheart,” Gojo groans and begins to fuck into you. “You’re so fucking tight it feels like your pussy is suffocating my cock.”

You moan at his words and try to picture his face as he takes you from behind. Gojo has always been attractive- that was never up for debate. But you could only imagine how hot he’d look with his eyebrows furrowed as he bit down on his pretty pink lips and sweat rolled down the sides of his face. You bet his white hair would stick to his forehead a bit, and you’d kill to run your fingers along his uppercut while he fucked you. 

That can be for another time. 

“Oh, my God,” you cry out as he pounds into you, “Just like that, Satoru, don’t stop.”

He playfully rolls his eyes as if your pussy wasn’t frying his brain too, “So demanding,” he tuts. 

Picking up the pace, Gojo begins to slam his hips against yours even harder. He lands another spank on your ass and grabs your hips tightly with his free hand.

When was the last time you got laid? You can’t even remember when the dick you’re getting now is so good. And you certainly have never had a guy this big before, that’s for sure. But you almost feel like a virgin, because you have never been fucked like this before. It was an experience you hadn’t even considered until now.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Gojo professes, “Every time I’d hear you touching yourself in your room, I wanted to kick the door down and take care of you myself.”

If you weren't so absolutely cockdrunk already, you would have been positively flushed with embarrassment at his comment given you thought you’d been so quiet and strategic about when you played with yourself. 

“Fucking hell,” Gojo removed his hand from your ass pushed his hair out of his eyes. “I even thought about sneaking cameras into your room to get an exclusive glimpse of what you looked like all needy and desperate to cum.” 

You gasped at the vulgar statement and felt yourself grow strangely wetter. 

Since when did any yandere behavior turn you on? 

Gojo laughs when he feels you tighten around him. “Oh, you like that? Well, now that I have this pussy, I’m never letting it go. No need for those cameras anymore, sweetheart. Why watch clips when I have this cunt instead?”

You really felt like you were going insane at this point. His cock is bullying itself into your cunt at an almost bruising pace. You could feel your wetness run down your thighs and your cheeks burn with embarrassment imagining the mess you’ve made on the floor from the amount of cum you’ve released. 

Gojo’s not faring any better. He felt like he would bust almost immediately after pushing into you, but he’d be damned if he fucked up this moment- the moment he had been imagining and wait for since the first time he laid eyes on you. 

“Oh, step sister,” Gojo said in a sing-song voice in between grunts, “Could you imagine if Mom and Dad walked in on us now? What would they say, seeing your precious little cunt be stretched out by your step brother’s cock, huh?”

Moaning at the thought, you try to close your legs a bit at the overstimulation.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Gojo quips and pulls your legs apart before shoving a hand between them and attaches his fingers to your abused clit. “There’s no way you’re getting away from my cock until you’re filled with my cum and can’t remember a thing except my name. Got it?”

You nod your head but immediately receive another spank. “Words, princess.”

“Yes!” you cry. Since there are tears welling up in your eyes, you’re now sweating, drooling, and crying. Gojo must hear your sniffling since he remarks, “Next time, I’ll take you from the front. That way, I’ll be able to see your face when I fuck you dumb.”

His words get progressively dirtier as he pounds into you. He’s so caught up in the sensation of your pussy clenching around his cock that he’s almost rambling nonsense at this point. 

“Do you know how hard it is not to push you down face-first on the counter when you walk into the kitchen wearing those tight dresses or short skirts? It’s crazy how I've waited this long to fuck you,” he pants. “Fuck, I’ll have to take pictures of you after I’m finished fucking this sloppy pussy so I can show all my friends what they're missing.”

You never imagined you’d be into voyeurism, but the way Gojo is describing how he’d photograph and record you to show you off to his friends like some prize to be won has you moaning out even louder. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire. And everything Gojo is saying and doing is only adding fuel. 

He was reaching parts of you that you didn’t even know could be reached. And he could tell by your reactions how good you felt taking his cock.

“Poor little girl,” he sighed out, “I bet you were getting tired of playing with this pretty pussy all by yourself, right? Your fingers just weren’t long enough to reach right…. here.” He hits your g-spot head on, and it has you screaming out his name. He rams against the spot over and over again, and you swear you’re seeing stars. 

His stamina should be studied by scientists the way he’s relentless as he pounds into you without any sign of slowing down. You knew for a fact that you would have collapsed onto the floor if not for the dryer door and Gojo’s arms keeping you up. You felt like a ragdoll with the way he was fucking you. You weren’t a person in this moment, you were his own personal fleshlight. And he’d be damned if he let you walk away without your pussy perfectly molded to fit his dick and his alone- not that you’ll be able to do much walking for a while anyway. 

“Y-you so big, Satoru,” you exhale, “I swear I can feel you in my throat.”

He laughs at your cockdrunk comment, “Believe me, sweetheart. Next time, my cock will be in that throat.”

He starts rubbing your clit even faster than before, and you’re doing everything you can not to scream your throat raw. It’s like Gojo has some sixth sense for your facial expressions since he barks, “Don’t you dare keep that mouth closed. I waited too long to fuck this tight pussy for you to hold back your screams.”

Your ass shakes as he spanks you multiple times in a row. With each spank, your moans get louder, your ass now bright red and warm to the touch. 

Removing his hand from your waist, your legs fumble. You’re barely standing upright, and practically all your weight rests on the where you body slumps over the dryer. “You better keep standing, pretty.” Gojo taunts. “Because you’re gonna have a much harder time taking my cock if you slip.” He threatens you as if he wouldn’t just fuck your boneless body on the floor, but he feels you tighten even more with his empty threat. 

Using his free hand, he spits on his fingers and brings them to your ass. Your eyes shoot open when you feel one of his digits run against the rim of your ass. “S-Satoru, what are you d-doing?” you stammer out, trying your best to form remotely coherent sentences. 

“What am I d-doing?” Gojo mocks. “Well, I’m just showing this hole some love too. Must have felt left out seeing your pussy be stuffed so nicely, yeah?”

He runs his finger along the rim and leans down to spit another dab of saliva on the hole all while keeping up his cock’s brutal pace and unforgiving assault on your clit. 

You clear your throat and shake your head in a poor attempt to clear your mind. “S-Satoru, I haven’t done anything there yet,” you pant. “Y-you shouldn’t do that.”

He smiles almost sinisterly, “Oh, I think I should, sweetheart. And that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Without any warning, he pushes his finger into your ass, and you yelp at the foreign sensation. You’d never tried anal with any of your past boyfriends. This was entirely new terrain. 

And Gojo dismissed your apprehension like he was swatting a fly. 

If anyone else did something like that to you, you’d wring their necks. So why did it feel so damn good when Gojo did it?

You moan louder as he begins to pump the digit in and out slowly, his spit acting as makeshift lube for the tight muscle. The combined sensations of your clit, cunt, and ass being played with was driving you insane. 

“F-fuck, Satoru,” you nearly wail, “I can’t take anymore, it’s too much!”

He shakes his head in mock disappointment, “Oh, no, pretty. You can and will take it. You’re not done until I say you are.”

You’re fully sobbing by this point. You can’t tell where your tears end and where your drool begins. Your whole body is shaking and not just because of Gojo’s unforgiving pounding. 

“I’m so close,” you exclaim, “F-feel like I’m going to explode.” You didn’t even know how to explain what you were feeling at this point. 

“Explode, huh?” Gojo questions as he bites back a groan, “Well, that sounds exciting. How could you possibly ask me to stop now? We’re gonna miss the best part.”

You bite the inside of your cheek so hard that you taste the metallic flavor of blood that mixes with the excess saliva in your mouth from all your drooling. And if you were actually able to think clearly, you would have noticed the saltiness from your tears as well. 

“S-Satoru!” you scream. “I think I’m gonna-”

You didn’t even get to finish your sentence before you’re squirting all over your and Gojo’s legs, the floor, the side of the dryer. Your whole body is trembling, and you feel as if you’ve been electrocuted. You’re still crying out as Gojo brings both of his hands down to your hips to fuck you even harder. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Gojo moans loudly, “Did you just squirt? Fucking god, I can’t wait to lick it off you.” His pace is as rough as ever, but it feels even more intense since you just had the strongest orgasm of your entire life. “I’m gonna fill up this pretty little pussy, and then no other guy will want my sloppy seconds, yeah? This pussy belongs to me now.”

Gojo fucks into you one, two, three more times before he’s shooting thick, hot ropes of cum deep into your weeping pussy, still unbearably sensitive from squirting. If you weren’t so fucked out of your mind, you would have been mortified that you squirted- on Gojo and because of Gojo, nonetheless. 

It feels like ages before his cock stops filling you with his seed and he finally stills inside of you. That’s a miracle if ever you’ve seen one, because you thought you would die if he kept going. 

You both wince as he pulls out, and he watches in awe as his cum spills from your cunt. You hear him rustle through his discarded clothes on the floor before you hear the click of a camera. This little sound effect draws you from your haze a bit.

“G-Gojo!” you yell. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

You can hear a pout in his voice. “Gojo? What happened to Satoru, hm? Is that name only reserved for when I fuck you?”

“Delete that immediately!” you wiggle in place. 

He just scoffs and shakes his head. “Oh? You really want me to delete it? Because I could have swore you were just smothering my cock when I told you how badly I wanted to take pics of you after I’d fucked you stupid.”

You huff and are about to argue back when you feel him run his fingers against your thighs once more, and your words are caught in your throat.

“Speaking of which…” Gojo hums, “I must not have fucked you hard enough if you can still talk back to me…”

Your breath hitches. 

“I guess that just means I’ll have to fuck you again then, won’t I?” Gojo thinks aloud and grabs your ass with both hands. “Like I said, family comes first.”

---

if you made it this far...thanks guys lmao

[erwinsvow]

omg omg I have a request, jealous!reader being “jealous” of bsf!rafe for bringing another girl over and taking her to his room, like reader was used to it but had enough because of her crush on him

yess omg this w/ jealous kook trio reader !! <3 shes a lil bitchy too hooray !

you think you'd had just about enough of this.

after months and months of being rafe's friend, you thought you were used to the seemingly endless flow of girls that constantly wandered in and out of tannyhill, the druthers, even his truck.

in fact, you'd never felt any specific type of way about it. rafe was your friend, and him hooking up with every girl on this side of the island used to be a couple of things—mostly gross, a little disturbing, sort of annoying. the girls he hooked up with were always clingers, and rafe sometimes would abandon plans with his friends to get laid.

which was completely normal. you wouldn't expect anything less from a guy like him—until you started to get mad about it.

you can't pinpoint when it happened, but somewhere in between the two back-to-back dates of yours rafe crashed, that one guy at the beach party who was happily chatting you up one moment and gone by the next, and a cute boy's number that had somehow been deleted off your phone, you started to get annoyed.

yes, rafe seemed to have some kind of problem with you dating. yes, he hadn't ever said as much. no, you didn't really have any proof proving your suspicions. but something was going on that you couldn't quite pinpoint, and then, before you knew it, something was going on with you.

when had it become so unbearable to watch rafe with one of his girls? you used to turn to kelce and top and make faces, pretend to hurl watching them in the distance. you used to cuss rafe out on the phone for ditching dinner or the movies or a sunset boat ride for some girl he just met. you used to think it was funny, not... painful.

so now, watching rafe chat up some girl when the boy you had just been flirting with was nowhere to be found, you can't understand why you feel like this.

like your throat is closing up watching rafe lean in to hear her better. like you want thunder to strike this girl so she gets away from him. like everything else in the world has just disappeared, with just you, your best friend, and your best friend's new girl remaining.

"are you fucking deaf?" kelce snaps at you, and you finally turn your head away from the pair.

"shut up," you snap right back. "i wasn't paying attention. what?"

"we gotta take this fucking bum home. you coming or not?" you turn, expecting a fully drunk topper laying on a couch or passed out on the floor somewhere. instead he turns to glare at kelce.

"you're a dick, you know that? no really, kelce-"

"why are you acting like there's a stick up your asses, huh? what's going on?"

"oh, i don't know," topper says sarcastically, and kelce joins in with a snicker. "maybe because we've been talking to you for a fucking hour and you've been ignoring us the entire time."

oh. you hadn't realized you'd been so oblivious.

"if you're that worried he's gonna go home with her, then why-"

"shut up!" you say again, with the words coming out loudly, in a rush. some heads turn to look at you. your friends laugh, but you can't join in. you huff out a breath, jaw clenched and perhaps a touch more angry than you'd thought you were. "why would i care if he went home with her?"

"i don't know and i'm way too drunk for this. you coming or not?" top says, though kelce stares at you much too knowingly.

you glance back—though you really shouldn't—watching rafe and the girl laughing at something together. anger trickles over your skin, seeping into your body all too quickly, making everything burn inside you. they start walking up the staircase together. you turn back before your head blows straight off.

"no. rafe said he's driving me home. so he's fucking driving me home."

kelce and topper laugh but you can't focus on that right now. you head up the stairs, though rafe and the girl are out of sight. you even catch sight of the boy you had been talking to earlier—and he turns and sprints in the other direction when you meet him eye.

even more angry, determined that rafe should get a taste of his own medicine tonight, you run up the stairs, pounding on closed doors and opening them up. you catch two couples that you really wish you hadn't before you finally get to the room that rafe is in.

of course he's in the master. prick.

it takes two slams with your fists and one attempt to shake the doorknob so hard you think it's gonna fall off for him to open up.

"what the fuck are you-" rafe stops the second he sees you. "kid, what the hell?"

you open your mouth, shoulders tense and face twisted in anger, ready to give him an earful when you look back, seeing the girl sitting on the bed and rafe with his hair a little messed up.

you're not just angry anymore. you're infuriated.

"sorry to interrupt," you say, looking at the girl waiting in the back. "you said you'd drive me home. i'm ready to go home."

"kid i'm a little busy here-"

"yeah? i was busy too. i was talking to a nice guy but after thirty seconds with you he won't even look at me anymore."

"that doesn't sound like-"

"well it is. he was gonna take me home, but you interfered. so it's your problem now."

"can you just-" interrupting rafe again, though you know you shouldn't, you butt back in to finish his sentence before he can.

"no, i'm not waiting five minutes so you can finish up."

"excuse me?" rafe makes a face like he can't believe what you just said.

you look back at the girl.

"sorry, sorry." rafe relaxes for a second. "two minutes."

he closes the door, and you hear him say something you can't really make out. a second later, he comes out and shuts the door behind him. grabbing your wrist, he leads you out of the house and back to his truck, and it's not until you're sitting in the passenger seat that he speaks again.

"you wanna tell me what the fuck that was about?"

[minhosimthings]

Prideful

Synopsis: You never thought that Lee Heeseung, the man who had proven you wrong in the subject you were best at, would be fucking you on the classroom floor, but here you were.

Pairings: Heeseung × fem!reader, sort of enemies hate sex, includes Sunoo from Enha, and Soojin

Warnings: Smut with plot in the beginning, MINORS DNI, fluffy in the beginning, mention of food, degradation, praise, fingering, oral (f receiving), sex on the floor, unprotected sex (not for you bubs), rough sex, overstimulation, swearing, Heeseung calls reader princess and doll, open ending my babies have fun with that

A/N: idea came into my brain and I thought I'd forget about it and just added it to my wip list but then I was like NOPE IMMA WRITE THIS SHIT. So this makes my third smut for Heeseung (idk why I'm writing only smut for him) enjoy it y'all

Jane Austen once wrote an entire fanfic about enemies to lovers, slow burn, and she thought no one would notice. Well almost no one. Nothing ever gets out of the eyes and pens of literature majors does it? Especially not out of hardcore Jane Austen fans like yourself.

You must have analysed that godforsaken piece of literature atleast a thousand times since you recieved it as a gift for your birthday. And every single time, you failed to understand how such a love could be possible. I mean come on, a man and woman who hate each other, falling in love with each other? Either Jane Austen must have been a reincarnation of Aphrodite, or a madwoman who still kept faith in love.

Your heart nearly exploded when your professor had assigned a full fledged essay-presentation, costing half your grade on Pride and Prejudice. "Explore your opinion!" She had called out cheerfully, "Tell me what your heart truly feels about this beautiful piece and I'll give you a full half grade and no assignments for the rest of the semester." The class gasped in excitement at her words as you pretended to be interested. Internally, you were groaning. Wasting half of your night to make a presentation about a book you hold no love for? The universe really was against you. You picked your books up dejectedly and walked towards the entrance, shoulders hunched and music at a higher level of noise than it should have been at.

"Oh shit!" You cursed, dropping your books at the sudden interruption. A flurry of blue wool flooded in your face, as you leaned down quickly to pick up your fallen books and phone. "I'm so sorry." You apologised not looking up at whoever you crashed into. "It's alright." A voice responded back, and you looked up to see him. Lee Heeseung. You had seen him a few times in class, heard him actually. With his pristine glasses, and his woolen sweaters, he was the definition of a movie nerd. He was actually smart, you had to admit, always quick to respond to the questions that you had no idea about. Best in the class after you, according to your professor. Although his choice of literature slightly weirded you out. You often spotted him sprawled out under a tree, holding Pride and Prejudice to his nose, deeply engrossed in taking in each word.

"Is that The Neighborhood you're listening to?" Heeseung asked, as he handed you your phone, which he had picked up before you had the chance to. "Do you have an ear for them?" You asked, taking the phone from him. His hands felt soft, like the first snow when you were eight. Heeseung shook his and chuckled. "I'm more of a Arctic Monkeys person." You smiled awkwardly and shuffled your feet. "To each his own then."

"Macbeth." Heeseung said, before you could escape from the conversation. "I'm sorry?" You questioned, confused at his sudden outburst. "That line's from Macbeth." Heeseung sent another smile your way, pushing his glasses up from his nose, "Polonius says it, 'To each his own'." You felt a pang of jealousy hit your chest. You didn't know where that line was from. Of course, what normal person would know the origin of a common idiom?

"Cool." Your laugh was not without a tint of awkwardness. "Well-" Heeseung shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "Bye then." "Bye." You bid each other goodbye and rushed off in opposite directions, not wanting to be stuck in another neverending loop of conversation.

"Don't tell me you actually talked with The Lee Heeseung." Your roommate Soojin laughed, accidentally smearing some turquoise nail polish onto your thigh. You quickly wiped it off with a tissue before frowning at Soojin. "It's not a big deal." You scoffed, having another slice of pizza, "I mean he's just a guy. Kinda nerdy actually"

Soojin burst out laughing again, this time shutting her nail polish close. She gasped for air as she pulled out her phone and showed you a picture of a what looked like a frat party. "Girl-" she got up from her leaning position, "Nerdy is the worst way to describe Lee Heeseung. I'm telling you-" she picked up the last slice of pizza, "-he's the playboy representative of this college."

"Oh come on." You scoffed again, getting up to go to the bathroom, "Stop joking around." Soojin shrugged her shoulders as you disappeared into the bathroom. "Whatever you say."

The next day, you strolled into your favourite cafe with your laptop, headphones, a copy of Pride and Prejudice, money in your pocket, a sketchbook, and a positive mindset. Always need one to write an essay right? You were thankful that it wasn't raining today like it had been for the past few weeks.

The cafe was mostly empty, with a few medical students drinking coffee to their death, as they always did. You walked up to the counter, where you saw your friend Sunoo, working his shift.

"Y/N hey!" He flashed his bright smile at you, putting down the glass he had been cleaning. "Hey sun." You clapped back, leaning in front of the counter, "The usual please." Sunoo nodded his head and started to prepare your drink. "So I've heard something." He put on his mischievous smile, one that he often wore when he had gossip on his fingers. "Please tell me it's not about that girl from Chem again." You sighed, as he put a coffee cup down in front of you. "No it's about you dumbass." Sunoo scoffed, taking the money you handed him, "I heard you bumped into Lee Heeseung." You let out a groan at his words, and quickly grabbed your drink, going off to sit in the corner. "Yah take your change!" Sunoo shouted after you to which you shouted back, "Keep it! Your broke ass needs it anyway!"

You didn't get the chance to see Sunoo giving you the stink eye, as you plopped down on the comfortable couch and opened up your laptop. You had prepared a few opening lines the night before, since you had learnt that doing half of an assignment on the day of the announcement is better than starting the next day. Whoever wrote that theory needs to clarify it to you, but hey never pass up a good study tip right?

Immersed by the clacking of the keyboard keys and the pretty syllables decorating your page, you were completely absent from the world around you. Until, you heard a familiar voice, which broke you out of your hypoxia.

Heeseung.

What was he doing here?, You thought, not realising that you were basically staring at him. He was dressed in full black today, a leather jacket adorning his broad shoulders. A single earing dangled from his right ear. He still had his glasses on, which were fogged up completely, courtesy to the weather outside. Chatting away sonderly to Sunoo, as Sunoo prepared his drink in a way familiar to you, Heeseung caught your eye. He waved joyfully to you, akin to a child waving to their best friend. You waved back, not aware of the face you were currently making.

"Hey!" Heeseung said, sitting down in the chair next to you, with his drink in hand, "Working up on the Pride and Prejudice thing?" There were atleast a million other seats empty in the cafe. Why did he have to sit next to you? You didn't really realise how handsome he was, until he was sitting face to face with you. The mere sunlight coming in from the windows seemed to illuminate his face well. "Oh yeah I am." You replied, shooting him a smile, "Same thing?" You asked, wanting to keep the conversation going. Heeseung smiled jovially at you and propped his laptop open. "Yep." He replied and glued his eyes to the screen as you went back to your own work. "The Neighborhood again?" He raised an eyebrow, peeking at your open Spotify. You smiled gently and replied, "Arctic Monkeys?" As if ticking a correct answer, Heeseung laughed and showed you his phone where 'Arabella' was playing. A pretty album cover, you thought, subtle and sleek. "To each his own then?" Heeseung said. You nodded and smiled in response, before dropping your head back down to your laptop.

An hour must have passed like this, both of you hypnotised in writing and editing, and downing the refills of coffee Sunoo was providing you with. You stole tiny glances at Heeseung from time to time. Concentration was a good face on him, his eyebrows furrowed, his hands typing away furiously at the keyboard. He didn't talk to you at all, except for the initial hey and hello. But something about the way he spoke to you in the beginning, about the way he asked if you had a pen, and about the way he said 'Hey you have an eyelash on your nose' made your stomach erupt into butterflies.

Heeseung left before you did and before leaving he had extended a hand out to you. "May the best essay win." He spoke, shaking your hand and showing you his smile. God he never stopped smiling did he? His hand was soft, as was his grip on yours. It felt like how your father would hold your hand when you were little on the crosswalk.

"Girl just ask him out." Sunoo called after you as you were about to leave, "The tension between both of you back there was almost poetic." Even though you laughed at Sunoo's quip, and denied the offer, a part of your mind lingered on Sunoo's words and the way Heeseung spoke to you that afternoon.

The days leading upto the hour of the presentation went fast. Too fast almost. Your mind went over your short conversation with Heeseung atleast a million times, sometimes distracting you from typing. You didn't know where all the red bull cans littered across your room came from, but you remember where you threw every single one of them and why. The presentation was perfect. It must have been checked by your eyes atleast a hundred times. Finally, a time was coming when you would be able to express your true feeling about it. Despise and Trouble ran through your veins as you walked up to the board as your professor called on you to present. The class seemed to hold a tight breath to themselves. Everyone knew you, teacher's pet, best at English, known for using the most difficult metaphores in her essays yet having a straightforward point.

"Shall I begin?" You asked your professor who gave a curt nod and leaned back in her chair, an expectant smile plastered on her face. You returned the smile and turned to your classmates, who seemed most interested in your essay.

"Well to begin with, as one does-" humor was always the best way to start off speeches, which was shown by the subtle laughter of the students, "-I would like to say that Pride and Prejudice may be one of the most despised books I have sitting in my bookcase." You heard gasps around the room as everyone started murmerring. Your professor leaned forward in her chair, her mouth pressed tightly to form a thin line. That's good, you thought, a good way to break into their corneas.

"While most people would disagree with me upon this apparent piece of art, I truly believe that this sort of a romance is highly impossible. And no-dont tell me that this is fiction and in the fictious worlds you can quote unquote 'do whatever you want'." The audience held their breaths back as you continued with your rant. Your professor was watching it all with a smile on her face, knowing that she couldn't disagree with you. After all, you had to present your own opinions no matter how opposite they were to everyone else's.

"Well-" you professor stood up from her chair, as you finished your presentation. It had been a 25 minute rant about the book and by now everyone seemed to be meekly looking at their own essays. "That was brilliant Y/N. Truly brilliant." You professor clapped you on the back, "I must say, you have a flair for arguing in a way no one can find counter-attacks. I wonder why you did not choose law as your major?"

"Because there is another argument to be discussed here."

A cold voice rang through the room, as you were about to laugh at the professor's quip. You spun around on your shoes to face the culprit.

Lee Heeseung.

"Heeseung!" Your professor delightfully responded clapping her hands together, "Well why don't you tell us your opinion then? And we'll see if Y/N can fire back." She sat in her chair again, looking positively delighted at the forthcoming, "A battle of the best wits perhaps!"

Heeseung smiled widely and stepped forward to where you were sitting, plopping down on the opposite chair. Your professor had always kept two chairs facing each other in front of her class, for debates, her reason sounded. And now, as you sat in front of Heeseung and his stupidly handsome smirk, you swore you were going to bring him down.

"First of firsts-" Heeseung began, as everyone's attention caught on you. "-your opinion is speaking from a highly biased perspective." "How so?" You fired back, before he could even breathe, "I had already stated in the beginning, about how this cannot be on a biased perspective, since fiction based in actual words cannot be this animated." Heeseung smiled again, which threw you off track a bit. God he's handsome, you thought, too handsome....

"Of course but must I remind you, that this book was perhaps the first out of many to start with the trope of enemies to lovers?" Why were his eyes like galaxies?, "Jane Austen invented an entire trope, which still remains a genius scan of literature to this day. How could you say it's too animated?"

"Yes but-"

"Furthermore-" Heeseung continued, not giving you the chance to breathe, "inventing new tropes does not break this 'law of literature' as you say. Since there was no law of literature to begin with. So please Miss Y/N-" he leaned forward, looking at you with dangerous eyes, "-don't you dare say that Pride and Prejudice is a worthless piece of literature just because it does not have proof of poetry."

The class let out a breath as you sat frozen in your seat. Someone actually breaking your argument was a first for you.

God, his hair. His pretty curly hair.

You didn't realise how long you'd been staring at Heeseung with widened eyes until your professor clapped her hands together again.

"Well then!" She said cheerfully, effectively breaking you out of your stupor, "I believe this goes for grading both of you an A+. Half of your grade is filled you two! Congratulations!" The class broke out into applause as you thanked her and awkwardly shook hands with Heeseung as the bell rang loudly. "Well class I'll be seeing you next time!" Your professor announced, as everyone started filing out. "Oh Y/N, Heeseung a moment please?"

You stopped your feet from stepping out the door and immediately spun around, marching off towards your professor, seeing Heeseung doing the same. "Yes Professor Kim?" Heeseung responded with those stupid puppy eyes of his before you could. Professor Kim smiled gently at both of you, before pulling out her tablet.

"I need a bit of help from both of you. It'll be sort of a favour to you too." She handed you the tablet, which had a sort of letter open on it. Heeseung leaned from behind you, and put his chin on your shoulder, making your stomach feel clammy. He smelled good too, you thought, like fresh paper.

"An event is being hosted by our Dean for all majors." Professor Kim smiled, "Sort of a career booster you could say. We were instructed to pick two students from our classes to have the assignment of checking essays, and documentations and whatnot pertaining to their majors."

"And you chose to pick us Ma'am? I'm flattered." Heeseung chuckled, as Professor Kim laughed to his quip. "Well you two are my best students." She drawled, "So the assignment I'm giving you is-" she pulled out a huge stack of papers from beneath her desk. It shocked you how quickly they appeared out of nowhere, like magic. "-these are all essays collected by last year's class. I want you to go through them, give them a good critic, and grade them according to you. You will personally grade each one, taking each other's help of course,since it's a group project. And it will lend you a helping hand since you'll be getting a certificate which you can use to get into any company you'd like!"

You and Heeseung glanced at each other and we're relieved to see the same excited expression face back at them. This was a rare opportunity, a diamond of the first water you'd say. And you had to grab it, even If that meant it was with a person you despised with your entire being.

"I'll do it Professor!" You replied positively to which Heeseung also nodded frantically as if to say the same thing. "Great!" Professor Kim clapped her hands together again, "Oh and one rule is you two have to work together in this classroom. Since the Dean wants to provide you with an opportunity to see how workplace relationships doon out."

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you heard her words. You, working with Heeseung in an empty classroom? You would rather have praised Pride and Prejudice.

"Here, the keys." Professor Kim handed you and Heeseung a pair of keys, "You can work in the evening if you want. But make sure to complete it as soon as you can alright? Oh and you can skip classes if you want to do this first, since the Dean is prioritising this before anything else." You nodded in response to her instructions and bowed her goodbye as you and Heeseung walked out.

"So-" Heeseung stuffed his hands in his pockets, "You wanna work on this shit tonight?" "Unless you have any other appointments, sure we can work on it tonight." You responded, coldly, not looking at him in the eye. "Alright then." Heeseung scoffed, "Meet you here at 8?" "Alright." The end of your conversation came a little too fast, you thought, but you couldn't stand looking into his pretty little eyes and talking to him, as if he didn't just embarrass you infront of your entire class a few minutes ago. "Y/N wait!" Heeseung called, running up to you, as you were about to exit the building. "What?" You spun around to face him. "Shouldn't we exchange numbers first?" Heeseung handed you his phone, which had his contact list open. "Why? So you can take me out on a date later?" You shot at him. A smirk tugged on the corner of Heeseung lips, but he resisted, not wanting to anger you more. You looked cute when you were angry in his opinion. "No. Maybe incase you were murdered by someone on the way here, I can call you and scold you on why tardiness is a childish thing to do." Heeseung joked. You smiled sarcastically at him as you handed him his phone back, having typed in your number. "Eight o'clock princess don't you forget now."

Tick tock tick. The clock's quiet sons echoed through the empty class. 'Don't forget.' you scoffed, 'And he's the one who's late.' The time on your watch sounded 8:30 and yet Heeseung wasn't here. You had given up waiting for him, and started on the assignment yourself, already finishing two of the army of papers. You were a hard critic, and it clearly showed in the way you were seeping your eyes through the ink.

"Soojin he's late! I can't come back now!" Your roommate had called you, in the midst of your third paper, complaining about a cockroach in the room. "Just call your boyfriend, and don't be such a pussy it won't hurt you." You scoffed at Soojin, whose scared whimpers were heard clearly through the phone.

"How's the checking going?" Soojin asked, having seemingly calmed down. You groaned and leaned back in your chair, wincing at the crack of your backbone. Your back must have become stiff from the amount of time you had been sitting in that chair. You felt pity for your professors for the first time, having finally been in their shoes.

"Heeseung's not here yet and I'm literally so fed up right now." You complained to Soojin, "That handsome bastard told me not to be late, and now look where I am! Asshole seriously." "He'll turn up, cool down Y/N." Soojin soothed you. You heard a sound of crashing in the background and stifled a laugh, assuming that Soojin must have miraculously jumped from one bed to the other. "I told you he's a playboy." Soojin panted through the phone, "Maybe he's busy fucking some poor girl in his frat house." You rolled your eyes at her statement.

"Please." You scoffed, "He couldn't fuck a girl if he wanted to, with the tiny ass cock he has." Soojin let out a raucous laugh from the other side of the phone. "How the fuck do you know he has a tiny cock?" She chuckled. "Intuition baby." You responded, "And my intuition is never wrong."

"Like how it was on the day of our debate?"

A familiar voice again. But this time, the warmth in it wasn't present. You whipped your head around to the door, where Heeseung stood, leaning against the door and smirking. "Soojin I'll call you back." You cut the call, before Soojin could respond.

"Hey." You called out to Heeseung. "Hey." Heeseung shot back, sitting down on the chair in front of you, spreading his legs wide. An involuntary gulp went through your throat. "What were you saying princess?" He leaned forward, his shirt dropping down slightly, "I have a tiny what now?" The dim lighting of the room, made his eyes look dark, and the leather of his black jacket, gleam more. "I- I wasn't saying anything Heeseung." You responded, turning your chair back to the desk, warmth coming up on your cheeks. Heeseung cocked his head to the side and smirked at your flustered state.

"Really princess?" He smirked, edging closer to you. The smell of his cologne filled your nostrils again. His glasses dropped on his nose, and he hadn't even bother to push them back up. "Heeseung just get to work." You sternly responded, trying to keep your cool. How could you though? When he was so close to you, lips almost touching your ear. "For you information-" Heeseung spoke, turning your attention away from the paper you were working on, "-I had a friend who needed a lift to his dorm, so I ran a little late. But you couldn't wait for me could you princess?" He smirked, laying his hand on top of yours, "Just couldn't wait to critique all those papers like the good girl you are." "He-Heeseung." "Shh don't." Heeseung shushed you, "You want to see how tiny of a cock I really have then hmm?"

"Heeseung we shouldn't." You hesitated, feeling your legs warm up. "No one's gonna know, as long as you don't make a noise alright?" He kissed your neck gently, turning your figure to his, still sitting in the chair. "Oh princess, already wet for me?" He chuckled, toying with the button of your shirt. "Heeseung-" you moaned out, quickly unbuttoning your shirt, as Heeseung took off his jacket and threw it on the desk. You pulled back slightly as your mind came to its proper senses. "Where are you going doll?" Heeseung questioned, hands resting on your thigh, squeezing it from time to time, "Don't worry princess, no one's gonna know."

Heeseung brings his lips down to yours in an instant, wasting no time. You gasp at his sudden actions and he takes advantage of that by entering his tongue into your mouth. You grab at his shoulders while he cups your jaw with both of his hands. Your hands reach his hair, softly tugging at the root and you hear him whine. Heeseung sucks on your bottom lip, catching it between his teeth and pulling it back to look at you. You look up at him and he takes your face in his hands.

“You wanna see my cock baby?” Heeseung asks in a teasing tone as he looks down at you. You could feel the throb in his pants press against your legs as you whimper. “Hee please.” You whine, squirming as he places a kiss between your breasts. Heeseung runs his hands up and down the sides of your body. If he was going to fuck you on the classroom floor right there and then, you were going to let him.

“Oh, you're feeling extra polite today huh? Please, Heeseung.” Heeseung mocks you with a tiny laugh. You groan in embarrassment and hide your face with your hands. Heeseung just lets out another laugh and wraps his hands around your wrists, prying them away from your face. He transfers both of your wrists to one hand, holding them over your head as he uses his other hand to trail his fingers down your body.

“Don’t hide your pretty face now, princess.” Heeseung says nonchalantly as he dips a hand inside your leggings and panties to feel your dripping cunt. His glasses were beginning to fog up slightly as he whipped them off of his face, setting them down on the desk. You clench around nothing when you feel his middle finger dip into your wetness and bring it up to your clit, rubbing slow circles around it. You moan softly as Heeseung teases your clit, never taking his eyes off of your face.

Heeseung begins to rub your clit faster, and you buck your hips up into his fingers. You hear him laugh at your eagerness and he presses soft kisses into your neck. Heeseung takes his fingers off of your clit and he snaps the waistband of your trousers against your pelvis.

“Dirty girl. Never thought you'd be like this.” Heeseung says with a smirk and you dumbly nod your head. The sounds of your heavy breathing and your pussy squelching around his fingers make your legs begin to shake.

Heeseung spits on your cunt to lubricate it even more, and that's what makes you come undone. Your cunt clenches around his fingers, sucking them in as he fingers you through your orgasm.

Heeseung takes his time kissing down your body, letting your need and desperation build by the second. He tugs one nipple and then the other into his mouth, suckling at the perky nubs and massaging your areola between his lips. Your hips are trembling with anticipation, the space between your legs aching to feel Heeseung's kiss.

Stars hover over you, or at least, that’s how it feels. Your eyes are closed, awareness cut off to the world around you except the place Heeseung's face is buried. He devours your cunt like a man starved, swallowing you whole. Heeseung doesn’t come up for air; he doesn’t need to, because all he breathes is you. Your back is arched and arms stretched forward, fingers clutching Heeseung’s hair in fistfuls.

Your thighs are shaking, reflexively clamping around Heeseung's’s face. He keeps forcing them open, demanding full access to your cunt, even as you buck and claw and convulse. Your mouth hangs open in a stupor; a thin line of drool trickles down your cheek and connects to the cold floor beneath you.

Heeseung laps at your slit like he’s never tasted you before, like he never will again. His tongue pads between your lips, upward strokes that end with the tip of his tongue flicking your clit with a firm intensity that has you reeling. Tugging at his hair, trying not to scream his name incoherently, you ride out the longest orgasm you’ve ever had. Tears burn the corners of your eyes, stars bursting in the black sky of your vision. Heeseung doesn’t stop licking your cunt till you release his hair.

“M’gonna fuck you now, okay?” Heeseung says sweetly and you nod your head. He runs his hard cock through your folds, and he catches your clit, making you jerk a little. Heeseung slowly begins to push himself into you and you throw your head back against the hard material of the desk.

“Fuck, knew you’d be tight when I felt you around my fingers.” Heeseung grits out, and he continues to push himself into you until he bottoms out. He starts to move at a slow pace, and he whines when you beg him to move faster. “Fucking whore. Bet you think about me fucking you in class don't you?” Heeseung spits out as he pushes himself harder and deeper into your sloppy cunt. You moan at his words, and you try to reply but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper.

“Hee, I’m gonna cum.” You cry out, and you clench around Heeseung's fat cock.

“ Cum for me princess.” Heeseung. moans out, fucking into you so deep, a ring of your cum and his has formed at the base of his cock. You run your fingers through his hair, harshly tugging on it as you come undone at his expense. Heeseung buries his face into your neck as he cums, sucking at your pulse point. You feel his cum shoot into you and it only prolongs your own orgasm.

After a couple minutes of you two catching your breath, Heeseung takes his face out of your neck and plops down in the chair, pulling you onto his lap. You sit there, dazed for a few seconds, burrowing your head in his chest, his heartbeat reminding you where you were.

"Well that was a whirlwind of emotions." He says at last, when you start to stir from your hypnosis, "You good doll?" You nod slightly and feel Heeseung's arms wrap around you, putting you safely down on the chair, as he put his clothes back on, slowly picking up yours as well.

"Heeseung the assignments." You panic, as he puts your shirt back on you. "It's alright princess." He coos at you, wrapping an arm around your waist, "We can do that in the morning. Let's get you home." He guides you slowly out the door. "So-" he smirks, locking the classroom with his key "Same time, same place tomorrow?"

[veryberryjelly]

gone to shit

pairing : jake peralta x fem!reader

prompt : "can i have one more hug?" "aw, babe you don't have to ask, c'mere..."

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

your day had been going too well for it to continue.

you had gotten to your local coffee shop before it got too busy, gotten up to the bullpen without getting catcalled by some jackass outside and you and your boyfriend were the only ones in the office which was nice.

it was quiet and the first 30 minutes your day was spent sat opposite jake just talking until your friends and colleagues filtered in through the elevator.

and then everything came crashing down.

multiple people in the holding cell caused the bullpen to be filled with noise which was unsettling.

the coffee you had gotten this morning spilled over your desk and your lap.

your phone had died half way through a conversation with your sister and you knew she wouldn't appreciate it seeming like you hung up on her.

and you had misfiled some evidence and had to talk to holt to fix it.

you hoped he would be in a good mood so this wouldn't end up with you getting reamed out.

unfortunately that was not the case.

while he didnt yell you could sense the annoyance & slight disappointment in his tone as he told you do leave so he could deal with it.

and you did leave.

but instead of heading back to your desk you went to the evidence lock up, heading towards the back corner and sinking down onto the floor, the cool surface bringing you out of your head very slightly.

but it wasnt enough to stop the hot burning tears from falling from your eyes.

this wasnt something you should be getting so upset about, there were people in the world that had it a lot worse than you and here you were crying over the tiniest things.

just because they had happened in quick succession it felt so overwhelming.

you were way too in your own head to notice your name being called quietly into the room.

it was only when you saw a set of shoes infront of you that your attention was pulled from the spiralling thoughts in your head.

your hands instantly lifted to wipe at your cheeks to try and pass it off like you weren't crying.

" woah woah, hey. what's wrong, babe? "

the sound of jake's voice did not relax you as much as usual.

you shook your head, trying to shake off this awful tightness in your chest but that did nothing to calm jake's worry.

he crouched down beside you momentarily before sitting down next to you, knowing that his gaze on you could overwhelm you even further.

his arm dropped to around your shoulders and your head instantly dropped down onto the soft fabric of his hoodie.

" you wanna tell me why you're hiding in the evidence lock up ?" he asked, his fingertips running over the fabric of your shirt.

" everything was just going so well this morning and then i spilled my coffee, the holding cell is so full of jackasses, my phone died and then i misfiled some evidence... it all just went to shit "

his small motions on your shoulder were calming you slightly but not by much, your shoulders were still shaking and you couldnt bring yourself to take a full breath.

jake didn't reply for a few moments but his fingertips kept tracing shapes over your shoulder.

" ok, well these are all easy fixes. rosa has a charger in her desk she'll let you use, the holding cell is thinning out really quickly and you left a spare pair of jeans at my apartment a couple days ago and i brought them to give back to you, so you can change into those. "

how he managed to solve all of your problems so quickly you'll never know, but you were just so grateful.

you turned your body further into his, smiling softly when he wrapped his arm tighter around you and pressed a short kiss onto the top of your head.

" thank you "

" you're welcome, babe " he said quietly.

both of you remained sat on the floor of the evidence lock up for a couple more minutes before jake moved to stand and lead both of you back to the bullpen.

before he could take you outside you pulled him back by his hand, a soft and playful pout resting on your lips.

"can i have one more hug?" you asked, tilting your head back to look up at him.

a grin spread across his face.

"aw, babe you don't have to ask, c'mere..."

you quickly closed the two feet between the two of you and wrapped your arms around his torso, your head buried against his chest.

another 5 minutes were spent surrounded by weapons in boxes just hugging your boyfriend.

but when you returned to the bullpen, everything seemed a little bit better

[tcfactory]

Okay, we all know that Shang Qinghua (Airplane) can't fight well, but consider:

A year before the scheduled demon invasion Sha Hualing was sneaking around the northern demons' castle during a diplomatic whatever and stole something from Mobei-jun's room that she would eventually use to get into Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. An emergency token that can let Mobei through the wards if his teleportation fails or something, it's a nonsense bauble Shang Qinghua literally put there for Sha Hualing to steal.

But Mobei-jun is both pissed at Sha Hualing now and justifiably worried that his spy would die if the Sha clan attacks the sect. So he gets the wonderful idea to whip Shang Qinghua into shape until he can hold his own!

And Shang Qinghua can't say that he knows when the demon invasion is going to be and he plans to be elsewhere, so Airplane bro gets to experience the worst training montage ever. It works, for what it's worth. It was never his lack of potential holding Shang Qinghua back, it was his different priorities.

He also uses his new focus on his cultivation to get permission to cultivate in Lingxi caves just before the invasion, so he can step in and save Liu Qingge's life (may or may not be necessary, depending if it's Shen Jiu or Shen Yuan, it works for both).

Then the day of the invasion rolls around and Shang Qinghua still planned on sneaking away, but Mobei-jun got it in his head that he wants to see the results of all that training, so Shang Qinghua is not sitting it out, no matter how much he wants to. Luo Binghe won't even get to fight, the third match is Shang Qinghua against Elder Sky Hammer and it's woefully one-sided. Shang Qinghua is feeling a little good about himself even! So not worth all the suffering he was put through to get to this point, but being strong kinda rocks.

But then Sky Hammer tries to take him down with him anyway and Mobei-jun steps in, all tall, dark and looming and uses his ice to cordon off the demon invaders. "You have stolen something that's mine, little brat."

He ends up chasing Sha Hualing's gang off in a deadly hail of black ice before Liu Qingge can even get on the scene and Shang Qinghua is fine. He's fine, he's unharmed and he's internally screaming because that was too close and his king is so cool, but also wtf Mobei-jun why are you out in the open?!?!!

He can. Somehow make it work? It really does help smooth things over that Mobei-jun just potentially saved a lot of lives. Makes it easier to convince people that Mobei-jun is Shang Qinghua's friend and he can be a really good ally, like, do you want this power on your side or as an enemy? Mobei-jun plays along because he realizes that this will give him free access to the Sect and an easier time to coordinate with Shang Qinghua. And hey, maybe he gets to spar with Liu Qingge and Yue Qingyuan every now and then, that's a really nice bonus actually!

Which is to say, Mobei-jun becomes a regular fixture at the sect and spends enough time there that someone will notice his very awkward crush on Shang Qinghua and sets him straight about human courtship customs. At which point it all transitions into a wacky romcom where half of An Ding is trying to discourage him and the other half is actively supplying him with questionable dating advice, all the while the rest of the sect is taking bets about how long until either they get together, or the whole thing crashes and burns. It's a fun time either way.

[astonmartinii]

loving on a sunday | lando norris social media au

pairing: lando norris x reader

y/n and lando, the grid and an honest attempt at a sunday roast

masterlist if you want to leave a tip x

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 601,239 others

yourusername: warning !! do not own a nice country house and farm because you will get lumped with the annual post season grid dinner, SEB PLEASE COME BACK I CAN"T TAKE THIS RESPONSIBILITY @landonorris what are you going to do when they find out you can't cook?

view all comments

user1: learning that lando can't cook is the least surprising thing in the entire world

user2: i'm sorry post season grid dinner? brb just going to cry my eyes out why haven't we heard of this before

user3: for my mental health i need photographic evidence asap

landonorris: way to bait me out in front of the whole world, thanks babe

yourusername: i'm sorry but if this crashes and burns i need people to know that it was your fault (because it defo would be)

landonorris: where is the faith? you back me to win every race but won't back me to make some roast potatoes :(

yourusername: babe when i was sick you burnt the soup so bad we had to throw the pan out

landonorris: I TRIED I WAS STRESSED YOU WERE SICK

yourusername: awwww babe, but it was le crueset and literally cost more than my life

sebastianvettel: it's been an honour to host it but i know you and lando will do great, send me all the photos !

yourusername: thank you seb, please come visit the farm at some point xx

landonorris: see i knew seb would have faith in me thanks mate

user4: lando's gf being a farm girl makes so much sense but also no sense what so ever

yourusername: tis the south west babe it's either banksy or farmers and nothing in between

landonorris

liked by maxfewtrell, yourusername and 1,023,677 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: should be peeling potatoes right now she's too pretty

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user10: oh to be a kitty cat being cuddled by y/n

yourusername: you're such a smooth talker babe but those potatoes won't peel themselves

landonorris: my years of being teammates with carlos has come in clutch

yourusername: you still suck at flirting i just love you so i still swoon, any other person would probably laugh in your face

landonorris: gonna ignore the insult and focus on the fact that you love me

user11: i swear every time i see y/n she's with another animal i've never seen before

yourusername: my farm is a safe haven for any animal, if they find themselves there they'll leave with a full tummy and a good load of cuddles

maxverstappen1: if lando is on potato duty does this mean we won't get them? they're my favourite part of a roast y/n PLEASE STEP IN

landonorris: oh wow i see how it is

maxverstappen1: i'm dutch i'm so serious about my potatoes

landonorris: i also don't fuck around about roast potatoes HAVE FAITH

user12: can we start a petition for lando to stream this? like at least the cooking portion

yourusername: watching my nervous breakdown live would not be ethical

landonorris: it's true she threw a carrot at my head the first time she cooked for my family

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, estebanocon and 590,455 others

tagged: yourusername, landonorris

oscarpiastri: officially a farm boy for the week (also known as third wheeling for seven days)

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user15: omg oscar went early? my mclaren heart is so full

yourusername: so so happy to have you here osc!! though you're not any more trustworthy in the kitchen

oscarpiastri: i'd defend myself but we've all seen me fail to boil an egg

yourusername: you tried your best !! but you've mastered the english tea which is a massive asset

oscarpiastri: i think i'd lose my seat if i couldn't make a cup of tea

user16: obsessed with y/n dragging everyone for being menaces in the kitchen

user17: love how oscar was like: post lando? no. post ducks? yes.

landonorris: mate you asked to come early don't complain about third wheeling now

oscarpiastri: i know i asked to come early but if y'all could lay off the soft porn for two seconds would be appreciated

landonorris: don't pretend you don't enjoy it mate ;)

yourusername: lando don't be mean :(

landonorris: i'm sorry oscar, i'm sure you don't enjoy watching us be happy

oscarpiastri: thanks i guess?

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,034,560 others

charles_leclerc: sad to announce i've been banned from the kitchen:( even banned from making drinks as well

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user18: this is defo the banning i agree with, we all saw the vlog with the pesto pasta

user19: tbf i've come to the conclusion the one person y/n would let into the kitchen is seb

yourusername: you're not wrong

user20: i need a chick in my dungarees right now

yourusername: why are you complaining about a free pass to sit on the couch and have someone else cook for you?

charles_leclerc: well when you put it like that ....

landonorris: let me revoke all of my previous complaints

yourusername: you know i like to treat you baby

charles_leclerc: why thank you y/n but that's an inappropriate thing to say while in a relationship

yourusername: it was in reply to lando's comment charles 😭

landonorris: guy forgot he could read for a second

charles_leclerc: MY BAD

user21: i know charles didn't come to a farm in all white

yourusername: i regret to inform you he did (it's all designer as well)

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 702,340 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername: sunday roasts are my love language, so happy to host the grid dinner with the love of my life

view all comments

user23: at first i thought she was being a bit too serious about this but that roast looks like it BANGS

user24: legit i need one asap

georgerussell63: carmen wants the recipe please and thank you

yourusername: bring her to the farm next time we're free and i'll teach her in person

carmenmundt: thank you darling

yourusername: anything for you

landonorris: ummm what about the guy you called the love of your life in the caption?

yourusername: i love you but i've tried to teach you to cook way too many times

user25: i'm sorry lando is so sexy

user26: forget lando, every pic i've seen of this house is the sexiest thing in the world

carlossainz55: thank you for hosting y/n and lando!! i had a great time see you on new years

yourusername: no worries chilli

maxverstappen1: the roast was the best thing i've ever eaten, i'll only dock points because i had to top and tail with daniel

yourusername: i didn't see you complain when i walked in on you guys cuddling

danielricciardo: you told me you loved it :(

maxverstappen1: i did !!! i enjoyed all of it, especially the roast though

landonorris: second to a roast @danielricciardo that's tough

landonorris

liked by alexalbon, yourusername and 1,208,943 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: so honoured to host the grid dinner and take over from such an inspiration in seb!! but mostly thanks to y/n for hosting at her farm and putting together an amazing dinner and weekend - also thanks for not killing the grid, i defo would have

view all comments

user27: i would've given a kidney to be there for real

lewishamilton: thank you for having us and for the sick nut roast

yourusername: we love you and roscoe !! and vegans are always welcome on my farm

user28: ROSCOE WENT?

yukitsunoda0511: thank you y/n i no longer think that english food is an abomination

yourusername: wow thank you yuki, i knew it would be hard when your only exposure was ... milton keynes

landonorris: wow my girlfriend is a miracle worker, and you're welcome yuki san we loved having you

user29: watching lando go from rookie to hosting the grid dinner, i'm soft

oscarpiastri: i love it here i'm sorry you're not getting rid of me

yourusername: no worries osc, you can stay as long as you want

landonorris: no complaining about third wheeling though, you're basically our child now

user30: experienced racer and rookie teammate friendships are so special to ME

danielricciardo: glad i managed to get my seat back just for this roast tbf

landonorris: not cause you missed me?

danielricciardo: eh i guess so

yourusername: just let me know when you're in england and you can come over for another

[sugar-coat-it]

Know It's For The Better

CW: Girlie is drunk!!

Fem! Reader

Contains: George’s younger sister! Reader, Matty taking care of drunk girlie, mutually secret pining, SICKLY amount of yearning, they’re so in love but so stupid :(, reader is turned down because she’s drunk, sad sad sad 

WC: ~4,300

—----------------------------

You get too drunk and Matty comes to take care of you. The lines of a longtime friendship are blurred. 

—----------------------------

“C’mon…” Matty mutters, keeping you supported with an arm under your shoulders as he leads you out of the bar. 

“Matty? Matty, what are you doing here, you’re supposed to be… doing music…” you giggle, almost tripping over your own feet as you lean into him. 

“Yeah, I should be doing music, but right now I’m looking out for you,” he says, shaking his head as you laugh at nothing in particular, “you really got yourself into a mess tonight, hm?”

“What do you mean?”

Your brows furrow as you look up at him, pouting like you still don’t fully understand why he’s here. Matty uses one hand to open his car door, the other firmly wrapped around you. He shoots you a look, his eyebrows almost raising high enough to meet his hairline. There are a few beats of silence like he’s allowing you a moment to realize how ridiculous the question is. Your blank stare tells him all he needs to know. 

“I mean you’re plastered,” he sighs, helping you into the car seat, your lack of balance making it somewhat difficult. 

“Ohh… yeah,” you nod in agreement that you are in fact plastered, shitfaced, sloshed, and whatever he’d like to call it. 

You slump back against the seat as your eyes flutter shut, smiling to yourself as you relish in the warmth of being so totally wasted, the world spinning just slightly. Matty is silent as he rounds the car to get into the driver's seat, now reaching to strap in your seat belt. You crack your eyes open just enough to catch the clench of his jaw. 

“Andrea told me on the phone that you begged her not to call your brother to come and get you. Which is why I’m here instead,” he explains, not seeming too impressed. 

Right. Your brother, George. That was the last person you wanted to come and get you, already knowing the lecture that would come with it. You vaguely remember insisting that Andrea call Matty instead, knowing he’d take good care of you like he always has. He glances over at you to make sure you’re still upright as he starts his car, the engine rumbling to life with a purr.

 The drive is quiet as you stare out of the windshield, watching the street lights streak across the night like they’re melting. His hand moves across the center console to turn on the radio, the station already being set to his favorite, indie classics. He never did like silence, Matty fills it any way he can. 

“What were you drinking anyways, darling?” he asks, sounding more curious than patronizing.

You love that about Matty. He’s older than you and certainly protective of you, but he doesn’t always fault you for wanting to act your age, for doing something on the wilder side. Some might call it a bad influence, he prefers “learning from the best”. 

“Umm,” you squint like you’re trying to remember what was in the shots, “tequila.”

“Tequila! Wow, you really went for it, didn’t you?” he chuckles before clicking his tongue, knowing damn well that you only drink tequila when you’re trying to crash and burn. 

You frown, sensing a slightly frustrated lilt in his voice. Maybe you had actually gone too far this time. You shift your body to face him, your cheek smushed against the headrest. Your stomach lurches at the idea of him being upset with you, especially since you’d been tying yourself in knots since you were a teen to appeal to him, to be the kind of girl he would want. Suddenly, you’re 17 again and you’re staring at yourself in the mirror, picking apart every piece of yourself that you think he wouldn’t like. Over and over. Anything for him to notice you. Your face is illuminated ruby by the traffic lights, the car rolling to a stop. Matty drums his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the soft beat of the radio. 

“Are you mad?” you mumble, your chin tilting down slightly as you struggle to keep your head up. 

“Mad?” Matty echoes, his eyes snapping to you with a newfound softness, a vastness of gentle, honey brown, “No, no, I just- what got into you tonight?” 

Relief washes over you like the gentlest wave, you know even if he was mad, he couldn’t stay that way, not when you’re draped over his passenger’s seat. You’re proudly self-proclaimed to be his weak spot, it’s always been that way. A dazed smile pulls at your lips at the confirmation, and he just playfully rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to the road. 

“I dunno. Was just having fun,” you shrug, toying with the strap of your seatbelt. 

Matty knows better, but he doesn’t push for more details. Not yet anyway. You can practically see his thoughts racing as he stares at the yellow lines of the street, his lips pressed into a thin line. But, he can pick your mind about why you got so drunk later, right now he’s trying to focus on the main task: getting you home and safely in bed. He’s already mentally mapping where you keep your Tylenol so he can leave some on your nightstand for you before he goes. Now comes the fun part as he parks his car in front of your apartment building, he gets to take you up the stairs. Joy. 

It’s a slow process, Matty instructing you to hold on tight and “don’t fucking let go, you’ll crack your pretty head open”. You laugh like it’s the most well-crafted joke he’s ever told but still abide by his word. Your giggles ring through the stairwell, a bright sound like a melody to Matty’s ears. One step at a time, you make your way up the stairs, successfully keeping your head in one piece with his hold keeping you steady. When did he get so strong? You almost wish there were just a few more steps so his hands could stay on you, ringed fingers firmly pressed into your skin. 

“Stay with me here, we’re gonna get you to bed, okay?” he reassures, looking over at you every couple of seconds.

“Nooo, wait, I don’t wanna go to bed. I’m not tired,” you complain, protesting with pursed, glossy lips.

“Not tired, huh? You were about seconds away from nodding off in the car,” he chuckles, giving your shoulder an affectionate squeeze. 

He doesn’t bother with letting you aimlessly fish through your purse for your keys once you reach your front door, taking the bag from you to stick his hand in and retrieve them. Matty keeps you steadily at his side as he unlocks the door, slinging the strap of your purse over his shoulder. The door pushes open with a creak and he ushers you inside, the hand on your lower back sending a shiver skittering up your spine. He follows behind you, watching as you wobble your way to the couch instead of to your bedroom. He rakes a hand through his curls streaked with gray before pressing his fingers into his temples, knowing this night was going to be longer than expected. You drop down onto the cushions with your head tilted back, a lazy smile plastered on your face. 

“Darling, bed is this way, you can’t sleep on the couch,” he says gently, placing your purse down on your coffee table.

You ignore him as he approaches you, instead frowning as you reach to soothe your fingers over the red marks marred into your heels from your shoes. Without missing a beat and without a word, Matty drops to his knees in front of you, batting your hands away from your feet. He carefully undoes the straps of your heels, nimble fingers grazing your skin. You can’t help but stare at the spectacle of Matty Healy being on his knees before you, his muss of curls shadowing his tired eyes as he works. He places both heels to the side after sliding them off, giving your knee a pat before he stands up to his full height. Immediately, you grasp the sleeve of his button-down shirt, like the thought of him being any further away is unbearable. 

“Stay? Chat with me. I’d like to chat,” you suggest, your fingers curling into the crisp fabric. 

“You’re unbelievable, really,” he mutters, shaking his head, “Fine. But we’re not falling asleep here, okay?”

You nod eagerly, you’d agree to any terms he set as long it meant he’d stay. Matty sits down next to you, allowing you to curl up against him with your head resting on his shoulder, your arms loosely around him. A tentative hand snakes up your back to your arm, holding you there as he stares forward, knowing his heart might burst if he looks down at you all cozied up to him. His thumb gently strokes up and down against your skin, like he’s confining himself from touching you any more than just that. Matty asks if he can get you anything, but you decline, not needing anything other than this moment. Who were you to ask for more?

The gentle rhythm is lulling you into a bit of a daze, but you force your eyes to stay open to have the privilege of gazing upon him when he’s so close. So warm. So real. You find yourself studying his features, half-lidded eyes searching his face. 

“I think I’m jealous of you,” you admit, your voice low. 

Matty lets out a gasping sort of laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners with mirth. What on earth were you on about? 

“Jealous of me? Why?” he smiles, an amused glint in his eyes.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Matty’s expression changes, shifting into something you can’t quite read. His lips part with surprise, but his words catch in his throat. You move your head off of his shoulder to get a better view of him, reaching out slowly to cup his face as you shift your body. His hand on your arm keeps you steady, knowing you could easily topple over. You’ve never been so bold as to touch him this way in your whole life. Matty clears his throat, a crooked smile forming on his lips. 

“Guys can’t be beautiful, sweetheart,” he says. 

Oh, but they can. You’ve been quietly admiring his beauty for so long, how could he say such a thing? You’ve watched him change over time, seen him grow from a gangly, unsure, freckle-faced thing to a confident man who slicks back his unruly hair and wears button-down shirts instead of faded band tees. You thought every version of him was beautiful in his own way. 

Silently, you take one of your hands and begin to trace the features of his face, delicately drawing your fingertips along the bridge of his nose, the slope of his forehead, and the slight rosy hue of his cheeks. Every bit of him is perfection to you. He opens his mouth like he’s about to question what you’re doing, his eyebrows drawing together, but he doesn’t make a sound. He just stares back at the focused look on your face, noticing your quiet wonderment, your gentle, sparkling adoration. It’s like you’re dissecting him, and it’s making him feel so exposed to you, like you’ve stripped him of everything right to his very soul. He tells himself that you’re just drunk, you don’t mean any of it, but that doesn’t change the way his heart is intensely thrumming against his ribs faster and faster. No one had ever touched him that way before, so delicately, and he certainly hadn’t expected to like it so much. He feels like he could melt right into the cushions. He loves you. Loves you loves you loves you. 

You let out a satisfied hum as you finish, sliding your hands off of his cheeks and down onto his chest instead, absentmindedly drawing little swirls with your nails against his shirt. His body shudders just slightly at the feeling, a tingly sensation erupting under your touch. 

“You done feeling up my face and shit?” he teases, trying to play off how you’ve just flustered him to his bones. 

You just beam at him, haziness written all over your expression as you let your head drop to his shoulder again. You chat a little longer about trivial things, Matty keeping the conversations simple so you can keep up. He asks you if your favorite color is still the same as it was when you were younger. When you mutter out a “yes”, suddenly, it’s like his whole world has been painted with it. You smile to yourself that he even remembered. His fingers gently trail up and down your arm, almost like his fingertips are ghosting over your skin. A few beats of silence pass before Matty goes for the heart of the issue, the question like a bucket of water over your head. 

“Are you gonna tell me why you actually got so wasted?” he murmurs, glancing at you through the corner of his eye. 

“... Was just feeling… sorta lonely, or something. Sorry for myself, and all that,” you sigh, not entirely sure why you’re telling him something that sounds so pathetic, but your words are tumbling out faster than you can process them. 

Matty hums thoughtfully, feeling as you bury yourself further into his neck, like you’re trying to hide from him, from reality. He knows he’s dampening your fun a little, reminding you of why it all happened, but he just couldn’t leave it alone, not when he knew you were hurting. You distract yourself by drawing small, languid swirls on his chest, the beat of his heart keeping you grounded.

“What happened? I thought you were fiercely independent. A one-woman show,” he snickers, thinking back to the exasperation he was met with when he’d asked why you were still single (“I don’t need a boyfriend to be happy, Matty. I have aspirations, you know. I’m focused on more important things,” you’d preached.)

When you say nothing in response, the realization creeps up on him that teasing you isn’t the right approach at the moment. Clearly, even you weren’t above the lamentations of the heart. You didn’t need a jab at how your fierce independence was what led you to bed alone every night. He swallows thickly, as if literally swallowing his pride before he speaks again, his tone laced with what you could only label as tenderness from the normally brash man.

“What’s been on your mind?” 

“I’m gonna fucking die alone,” you groan, covering your face with your hands, having totally forgotten that you were wearing makeup. 

He stifles a laugh, both at how you’ve smudged your eyeliner and because of your intoxicated overreaction. Obviously, this wasn’t a joke to you, and he needed to get this right. He raises his hand slowly, brushing stray strands of hair away from your face. Your stomach swoops, you swear you’ve seen this in a dream before. 

“You’re a lovely girl, sweetheart. Anyone who doesn’t see that is either stupid or blind. You’ll find what you’re looking for, and you won’t die alone, silly,” he says, punctuating the word “silly” with a poke to your side. 

A lovely girl. He thought you were a lovely girl. One that wouldn’t die alone. That’s… comforting, you suppose, even if it’s in an odd way. Part of you wonders if you’ll die with your feelings for him held close to your chest. The other part isn’t sure if you could truly hide it that long, or if your devotion would spill from your clutches like water between your fingers. Would he drink it from your palms if it did? 

“Do you ever get lonely, Matty?” you ask in return, your words slightly slurred. 

Matty pauses. Seemingly, he didn’t expect this to be turned around on him. He makes an awkward “erm” sound as he evaluates the question. With countless adoring fans, many of them being gorgeous women, how could he ever feel alone? It wouldn’t make any sense. So why does the void never go away? Why does coming home after throwing himself into his work at the studio feel so totally melancholic? He’s supposed to be living his dream.

“I suppose sometimes I do. But that’s just being human, innit?” he shrugs, ignoring the pang in his chest. 

Your fingers pause their patterns, stilling on his shirt. You allow your hand to press flat over his heart, feeling it thrum under your palm. What if this was it? You’re both lonely and after all, he just said he thinks you’re lovely. Urges rattle at the back of your mind, you’re replaying every single moment that he’s looked at you a little too long, every time that his touch created sparks from a lingering brush. It had to all have been real, you weren’t crazy. Your head is swimming, you’re moving before you can even fully process it, and it feels like the room is tilting with your body. With your hands on his shoulders, you wobble as you lift one leg over his lap to straddle him. Matty’s eyes go wide, he hastily reaches out and grasps your hips, trying to keep you steady. You feel like you’re burning up from the inside, you can only think about him, his cologne, his calloused fingertips, his mouth, his tattooed skin. Hot, liquid need is consuming you, eroding any bit of rationality left. 

“We could help each other, y’know?” you suggest, your voice dripping with implication. 

Matty glances down at your lips for a moment, but he tears his eyes away just as quickly as if he’d been burned. He looks stunned, his body totally rigid against the couch as his fingers dig into your hips, his blunt nails biting at your skin through your clothes. You look like a wet dream perched on his lap like that, but the very idea of this continuing when you were in this state made Matty’s stomach churn. He shakes his head, swallowing hard as he starts to speak, his voice strained as he tries to reason with you. 

“Darling, listen to me-” 

“No one would have to know. George wouldn’t know, it could be… it could be a secret,” you interrupt, biting your lip as you speak in a hushed voice.

The reminder of your brother’s existence just added to the urgency of getting you off of his lap. Hell, he’d probably wring Matty’s neck just for not immediately taking you to your room and promptly leaving. He didn’t want you to be a secret like you were some kind of dirty indulgence for him. No, you didn’t deserve that, and it frankly broke his heart that you would let him treat you that way. 

“No. We can’t,” he asserts, his tone coming out much firmer.

Many people think “heartache” is just an expression, but they’ve never felt the actual squeeze in their chest. A sobering rush goes straight to your head as your heart clenches, shame flooding your body. You loosen your hold on his shoulders, letting your hands drop to your sides. You take a shuddering breath, stammering something that neither of you can decipher because of how scrambled your thoughts are. Part of you wants to beg, to tell him you’ll be the best he’d ever had if he let you. But you don't, you let everything come crashing down around you. 

“You’re drunk, you’re not thinking straight. I absolutely will not take advantage of that,” Matty says softly, watching your face drop. 

“But- but I… I just wanted to… wanted you…”

“I know.”

Matty gently slides you off of his lap, feeling like the biggest monster in the world. He knows he’s doing exactly what he should, but the look on your face has guilt gnawing at his insides. Silence settles over the two of you like a layer of snow, you wrap your arms around your body to shield yourself from its frigidity. He’s about to apologize, to tell you how much he’d love to quell your loneliness another time but you speak first, your voice shockingly even, like you hadn’t had a drop to drink. 

“Can you just take me to my room?” 

He’s quiet for a moment before nodding, sensing your almost palpable embarrassment and regret. Matty gets up off of the couch first, reaching his hands out to you to help you up. It feels bittersweet to take them as you stand, finding his touch both comforting and sickening. You want him near but also want him as far away as possible, it’s like the push and pull of the cruelest magnet. 

He helps you sit down on your bed, your little black dress starkly standing out against your soft white sheets. You have a faraway look on your face, and Matty has no clue what to say or do to make any of this better. He knows he can’t pick up the pieces, but he slowly reaches out to rub away some of the mascara that’s smudged under your eyes. You’re trying your hardest to bite back tears, shaking your head as he asks you if you want to change or take off your makeup. You don’t know how to describe the feeling in your stomach as anything other than disgusting. You just want to sleep and forget. 

“Oh, my dear…” he murmurs sympathetically, “I’ll let you get some rest, okay?” You find yourself a little panicked at the idea of him leaving your side, automatically grasping his arms. You coax him closer, despite the shame biting at your ankles, nipping at your skin. Quietly, he understands. He eases himself into your bed next to you, letting you curl up at his side, your head on his chest. You feel it rise and fall under your cheek with each breath. Slowly, your body becomes less rigid as you let yourself melt into him. Exhaustion is seeping in, but this time the physical kind.

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” you whisper, letting out a humorless chuckle at your expense. 

“And why wouldn’t I be here?”

“Because I’m a mess. And I threw myself at you.”

Matty smiles softly, letting out an amused exhale through his nose. You’re laying there wondering how he isn’t repulsed by you, and he’s gazing down at you thinking about how beautiful you look in this light. 

“You’re just drunk and a bit lonely. Nothing to kick yourself over, sweetheart, we’ve all been there. You were only bein’ a little affectionate.”

“Affectionate? I was trying to jump your bones.”

He laughs at that, a loud, uproarious noise that’s completely unmelodic, and yet it’s your favorite sound. His chest rumbles with his barking laughter under your cheek and you find yourself smiling, just a little. You can’t help it, even when it almost hurts to breathe. As his chuckles subside, he begins stroking your hair, running his fingers through the unruly strands. Your eyelids are getting heavier, it’s as if time is moving in slow motion, dragging on to an unceremonious stop. You’d daydreamed about falling asleep in his arms, but not like this. On the brink of slipping into sleep, your heart begins to pour out in a delirious confession.

“I know you'll never see me the way I see you. But that's okay. I can quietly admire you. I just want you to be happy. Even if that's with somebody else," you mumble.

You don't know why you’re doing this. You can hardly think straight. You just love him. You’ve loved and wanted him for too long. Longer than anyone should have to bear. 

“What are you talking about?” he whispers, his smile fading. 

"You know what I mean," you continue, the stream of consciousness making you feel somewhat lighter, "you're gonna... you're gonna marry a model... and be happy... and I'll find something... and I'll be fine.”

What you’re saying doesn’t make much sense to him, but it pulls him apart regardless. He can’t help but feel sick to his stomach that you don’t see yourself in his future. Matty gives you a soft squeeze, staring at the top of your head as you barely cling to consciousness. He wants to tell you how he feels so badly, it’s killing him. Everything inside is screaming at him to confess, but he can’t, not when you might not even remember it. He decides this will have to suffice. 

“Sweetheart, I promise you, I would not be happy in that scenario. Not without you.”

“What?” you mutter, sounding dazed. 

Well, sure, you’ll be there. You’ll go visit him in his house that’s far bigger than necessary and force a smile when you greet his impossibly beautiful wife. But… the way he said it… no. You shouldn’t delude yourself any further. 

“Look, you need some rest. We can talk about this later, yeah?” Matty sighs, burying his nose in your hair as he kisses the top of your head. 

“Yeah. Okay.” 

You feel sleep’s forgiving embrace wrap her arms around you. If you’re lucky, maybe you've drunk enough so you won’t remember any of this in the morning. Blissfully unaware, you wouldn’t have to carry this weight. Whatever happens to you, you know it’s for the better. 

Before you truly drift off, you say one last thing. Barely audible, but just loud enough to drive a dagger through Matty’s heart.

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

It’s like the air has been crushed from his lungs. You’ve left him alone with his rampant thoughts, his regrets. God, how he wishes this could have gone differently. After some time, he hears your breathing slow into a quiet steady rhythm, signaling that you’re sound asleep. Then, and only then does he softly speak into the silence of the night.

“I love you too.”

——————————————————————

… sorry?

Thank you to my lovely birthday twin Mads (@toomuchracket ) for previewing the early draft of this!!! Dedicated to you, I hope it’s half as good as your angst <3 <3

[shaunamilfman]

stay cool (it's just a kiss)

pairing: Jackie Taylor x reader summary: You’ve watched Jackie Taylor and her friend show up three Friday nights in a row, and still she hasn’t managed to actually kiss a girl. She seems insistent on getting it over with now that she’s in college, but every time she tries it somehow ends up more embarrassing than the last time. note: have some girlfail jackie in these trying times

You glance up as Van groans, a small smile playing at your lips around the edge of your cup. 

“Someone's gotta put her out of her misery.”

Your eyes follow Van’s to land on the subject of her misery: Jackie Taylor. Or so you'd gathered after watching her have the exact same conversation with her poor friend for the last three weeks in a row. 

Jackie stands near the doorway, cheeks flushed with a mixture of nervousness and excitement, gesturing animatedly as she talks to Shauna. In the three weeks she's shown up, she's yet to get much further through the doorway beyond venturing out for the occasional drink, or crashing and burning every time she tries to speak to a girl. 

Which brings you to the crux of the issue. 

From what you've gathered from their many conversations by the door, Jackie Taylor was newly out and had never kissed a girl. The way she was constantly fretting over it, the nervous energy pouring off her in waves, was almost endearing. Almost. 

It certainly was the first time you overheard it, sharing an amused look with your friends. Even the second time still made you crack up. But the third time? Now, it was starting to edge further toward pathetic as it lost its charm.

“She's just got to go for it,” you say with a sigh, leaning back against the wall as you watch as subtly as you can. She really is kind of cute. 

Van shakes her head, a small, sympathetic smile on her face reserved only for strangers. You knew damn well if that had been you standing there, Van would've announced it to the whole room looking for volunteers. 

“She just needs a push,” Van agrees, pausing as her eyes suddenly light up. You give her a knowing look. Van’s idea of a push was more than a shove. While it’s effective, it’s not always kind.

“Why don't you just go kiss her?” She suggests. 

You laugh, shaking your head. 

“Seriously, it's a win-win,” Van insists. “You put her–and us–out of our misery. Just go help her out.”

“Why don't you go do it then?” You say, already knowing the answer. Still, you let her try to wiggle her way out of it anyway.

Predictably, Van's eyes go straight for Taissa Turner's. It was mighty ironic of her to complain that Jackie was being irritating about going on and on about wanting to kiss a girl, but you didn't think she'd appreciate you pointing it out. 

“Look at her,” Van continues as if you've never spoken, a faint flush to her face. “She's cute, and you'd be doing a public service, really.”

You roll your eyes, but can't help but hesitate slightly as you think it over. It wasn't entirely unappealing. In fact, a large part of you had already been considering it even before Van mentioned it. Not that you'd ever admit it. Her ego was getting big enough without you adding to it. 

Just then, Jackie’s eyes dart around the room, landing on you briefly before skittering away. She mumbles something to Shauna, who glances quickly at you before giving her a bored nod.

Van grins, immediately jumping on your hesitance. “See? You're thinking about it.”

Before you can even start to deny it you feel too hands firmly on your back as Van shoves you toward her. You stumble over your feet, managing to right yourself and gather some semblance of your dignity before Jackie catches sight of you. Glancing over your shoulder, you shoot Van a harsh glare, rolling your eyes as you faintly hear her mutter something about lesbian solidarity under her breath.

You clear your throat, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. You’re going to kill Van. “Jackie, right?” You say, managing to sound a lot more confident than you feel.

Just a moment ago you’d been sending her the occasional admiring glance from across the room, but she was somehow prettier up close–standing before you like a vision come to life. You figured you could have definitely done worse, but there was something about her obvious eagerness that gave you pause.

“Oh, hi,” Jackie stammers, a little breathless as she attempts a casual air, clinging on to her drink like it was a lifeline. Her eyes widen comically as Shauna takes the chance to slip away, looking after her longingly before turning her attention back to you. Great, just the two of you now. 

“That’s right,” Jackie continues, her voice steadier with a forced nonchalance as she tilts her head to look at you. She held your gaze evenly, despite the way her fingers fidget nervously around the rim of her cup. Her hands still as she catches your eyes tracking the movement, setting the cup behind her to remove the temptation.

If you hadn’t known how incredibly out of her depth she was, you probably wouldn’t have suspected it of her; would have suspected aloofness over what’s obviously nerves. Her outfit was expertly chosen for the occasion, complimenting her perfectly while not distracting from just how pretty she really was.

“Do you… come here often?” Jackie asks, visibly cringing at the sound of Shauna snickering in the background.

“Do I come here often?” you repeat, audibly amused. Jackie looks like she wants to sink into the floor, never to be seen again. The visible regret on her face has you holding back laughter, not wanting to make it worse when she’s already started beating herself up about it.

She seems like the type that would normally be more put together, an effortless charm that she can only play at now. It makes her seem smaller, a vulnerability that immediately softens your initial impression. You were used to girls playing coy, which made Jackie surprisingly refreshing. There was no doubt in your mind that Jackie was interested in you, visibly nervous with a charming sort of eagerness.

“Sometimes,” you answer finally, wanting to alleviate the tension. The poor girl looks like she’s going to throw up, nearly melting with relief at your response.

“Maybe that was a stupid question,” she admits sheepishly. “I just haven’t really seen you around before.”

“No? I’ve certainly seen you.”

Her eyes widen, her voice higher as she asks, “Have you?” She’s clearly thinking back to how badly she’d fumbled that girl last week. 

Yep, you’d definitely seen how badly she’d crashed and burned week in and week out. You’ve seen some really embarrassing things in your time, but that was pretty close to the top. It looked like she was about to throw her drink in Jackie’s face and everything before Shauna had stepped in and dragged her away.

“Listen, I’ve heard you talking–”

She groans, burying her head in her hands. Almost immediately, you find yourself wishing that Van was the one talking to her instead. She had even less tact than you, but at least then you could laugh at her from a comfortable distance. There’s no doubt in your mind that is what she’s doing right now.

“Could you?” She asks in a rush, sounding mortified. Jackie peeks out at you through her fingers, and you’re almost ashamed of finding it adorable instead of pathetic. Or maybe pathetically adorable? Maybe the alcohol was working faster than you thought.

“Yeah… I think a lot of people could.” You try to be as gentle as you can, but there are not a lot of ways to soften that one.

Jackie winces, biting at her lip as she drops her hands. “God,” she says, voice verging on a whine. “I could just die.” 

“It’s hard putting yourself out there,” you offer.

“I’ve just never… with a girl, I mean,” Jackie starts. You listen intently as she speaks, slowly losing interest as she rambles on. Her nervous energy spills out in a torrent of words, as overwhelming as it was hard to follow. She’s quick to detail every thought and hesitation she has, not even seeming to take notice of the way your smile is becoming more and more forced as she goes on.

“It sounds like you’re really thinking this through,” you interject pointedly, giving her a wry smile.

“It just has to be perfect, right? But it’s so hard–” You really wanted to support her, you really did. But this was just too much. While a part of you sympathizes with her, a much larger part is starting to get impatient, wishing she would just hurry up and get to the point. You’re starting to fear there is no point, that she intends to just talk until one of you has to leave.

You search the room, first finding Van, who gives you an encouraging thumbs-up before attempting to hide a laugh into her drink, and then Shauna. Shauna’s expression is unreadable as she leans against the bar, but she seems at least a little curious as she sips at her drink. It seems you were on your own.

“So,” Jackie says, looking at you expectantly. “What do you think?”

You blink owlishly, realizing she’s waiting for your response. You scramble for something to say, desperately wishing you would’ve paid more attention. “I–uh…”

Jackie pouts, clearly put off by your lack of attention. Her smiles fading, tinged with disappointment that she can’t manage to hide.

Fuck it.

“Sorry, I just…” You step forward, gently reaching a hand up towards her face. She immediately lights up, her eyes fixated on your hand. Cupping the side of her face gently, you feign shyness as you continue. “Just got distracted by how pretty you are.”

Jackie shifts nervously on her feet, but makes to move to pull away. Instead, she presses her face against your hand as her face flushes a delightful shade of pink. Man, was she easy. The look on her face was nothing short of delight, a surprised pleasure that betrays her as she tries for nonchalance.

“You think I’m pretty?” 

“So pretty,” you confirm, lightly brushing your thumb against her cheek. “And interesting, too.”

Jackie seems emboldened by your response, perking up with a confidence you haven’t seen from her all night. You can’t help but smile at the sight of it, watching her come alive right before your eyes. She reaches up to trace her fingers against your wrist, quirking her head to the side in question as she meets your eyes.

You lean in slowly, giving her more than enough time to pull away. You needn’t have bothered, because Jackie moves faster than you to close the distance between you. Her lips are warm against yours, slightly hesitant before she gets her feet under her. She presses closer, her hands coming up to rest on your shoulders as she kisses you like she’s been waiting all night. 

She probably has.

You’re both breathless when you finally pull apart, but Jackie seems not to care as she chases you as you pull away. There’s a slightly dazed look on her face that turns to embarrassment as she realizes what she’s done. Jackie’s adorably flustered, her hands dropping from your shoulders as she bites her lip. 

Jackie looks over your shoulder as if looking for someone before quickly looking back, inhaling sharply as she watches you lazily wipe her lip gloss from your lips.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Jackie asks in a rush, looking chagrined as your eyes widen in surprise.

“Eager, are we?”

“Not for that,” she stresses, slightly frazzled. “Not that I wouldn’t–if you were down–I…” Jackie relaxes at the sight of your small smile, amused despite yourself. She really did have a way of putting her foot in her mouth. It would almost be impressive if it wasn’t so sad.

“It’s just a little crowded in here.” She glares at someone behind your back for emphasis. You start to turn around, but Jackie grabs your shoulder to stop you. 

“Let’s talk,” she insists, pulling you behind her despite you not actually agreeing to anything. 

Oh, boy.

[theladyismyshepard]

My Lady In Death

My interest has shifted towards Baldur's Gate 3 and call me obsessed, almost as much as I was for RE:V... This is my headcannons for the main ladies of the party... careful, it's a long post

How the Ladies Would React to Your (Tav's) Death

Shadowheart –

It’s funny… it’s so funny… There was a battlefield roaring its rage to the Heavens in the sky. A melodic thrum of agony and death and yet there was a single sound that rose above all else: the sound of your body crashing to the ground, a loud grunt forced out from between your lips.

The strong “Ignis!” caught itself in Shadowheart’s throat, subconsciously forfeiting her turn as she stared wide-eyed at your fallen form. Her lips were moving, yet no sound was escaping. No spell, no incantation, no anything– She was so frozen in disbelief, one could mistake her for being under a stunned or immobilizing spell. All she could do was watch your shaky movements as you attempted to hoist yourself to your feet, only to receive a final concussive blow that left trails of blood leaking from your nose, mouth, and eyes

“NO!” The scream was so raw that almost everyone in the party felt the shredding of their own throats

Karlach reached forward to intercept the cleric just as she showed the first signs of darting thoughtlessly across the battlefield towards your dead body, but when Shadowheart showed an ounce of determination, she proved unstoppable. She sidestepped Karlach’s hand, ignored the resulting string of curses from Lae’zel, and darted towards you. Not only did she have faith in her teammates (well, Karlach) to guard her back, she had faith that Shar would guide her forward.

Which raised a few questions: Why was Shadowheart fearing this loss in a way she never felt before? Why was she so desperate to counter the inevitable? Why couldn’t she let Shar take you away? Shadowheart swallowed thickly as she dropped to her knees beside you, pulling your head into her lap. Her trembling fingers reached into her travel pack and she didn’t stop fumbling around until she produced a Scroll of Revivify. She untied the knot keeping it together, and rested the parchment atop your chest.

Her voice shook the entire time she spoke through the words of the scroll. Her eyes were blurred so thickly with tears that the obscured spell was nearly illegible to her. Shadowheart’s left hand was tangling its fingers in your hair, an absent gesture of comfort more for herself rather than you at the moment. She was aware of the sudden company of defense that swarmed and encircled the two of you, but she couldn’t afford to pay them any mind, not when you were growing colder by the second and Shar’s grip of darkness was taking its hold on you.

There was a glow surrounding your body for a moment, and when it finally dimmed, the scroll burned itself to a crisp and faded away on a gust of wind. There was a pause that had Shadowheart’s heart stuttering against her ribcage and then you were taking in a large breath of air, and it looked so natural, as if you had never stopped. Shadowheart released a breath of her own and it nearly had her bowing over, her tears finally spilling down her cheeks.

You were here, you were alive, you were going to be okay… She indulged herself in stealing a single kiss atop your brow, her left hand gently scratching your scalp before she pulled back abruptly.

Shadowheart… turned her back on her lady. All color drained from her face, all relief she had been relishing in dried up, all fear she had dislodged back anew, but directed for herself now– As Shar’s servant, she must accept darkness, accept loss almost to the point of wishing for it. You were well within Shar’s merciful grasp

And Shadowheart stole you back… It’s only natural to struggle with your religious guilt after saving the one you care so much for. Give her time to process this.

Lae'zel –

Disbelief. That is the only emotion Lae’zel found herself able to process for an entire minute; Disbelief that your body was crumpled and shredded down in the dirt; Disbelief that this unorthodox hero that was supposedly “meant to save the world” had fallen so easily… Disbelief that she allowed your death to happen.

Next was the fury that almost visibly burned in licking flames. Death would not take you, not if she had anything to say about it. Not when she was standing right there and these fiendish goblins had the audacity to strip your life from your body before her very eyes. No… Lae’zel was fury, she was death, and she would avenge you before she would think to resurrect you.

That half-elf, she had powers of healing and while Lae’zel loathed Shadowheart on a good day, she knew the cleric to have enough wits to know to respond to their fallen hero with haste (lest she meet her own untimely end at the edge of her blade). The fight was a blur, and it was over before any of the other party members could land another hit.

Lae’zel was a flurry of strikes, one after the other, each enemy dropping with a thud before they could so much as raise a shield in defense. Her blade cut through their armor, and with each slice, she couldn’t help but to associate it with the final blow that cut you down. Each wet shluk as her sword went through reminded her of the very sound of your own flesh giving way to iron. She didn’t even feel the blood washing over her enough to get to relish in the victory– this was no victory.

“They’re all gone, soldier,” came Karlach’s small, but steady voice, though Lae’zel still felt rage, she couldn’t shake it…

It was a familiar feeling her people associated with, almost like lifelong friends, but this was driven by a loss that she had yet to experience, and she was damn near close to cursing the Comet himself for allowing such a person like yourself to come into her life and just… change her very being… or at least her standards. But she was cursing you.

Cursing you for coming into her life, showing her tolerance, showing her affection, showing her love… and then just as you had gotten her to fall, you fell at her feet in a pool of your own blood. Lae’zel’s grip around her silver sword tightened, her form trembling in a mix of rage, sorrow, and hatred. Hatred at those who killed you, hatred for you for how easily you went down, but mostly, hatred for herself for not throwing her own body on the blade before it could ever reach your perfect skin.

“Lae’zel… love,” 

The sword dropped as did her mouth. Right… You were intelligent enough to stock up on Scrolls of Revivify when the party was last in Baldur’s Gate. Lae’zel pulled herself together, grabbed her sword, and regained her signature scowl.

“I suggest we keep moving forward unless anyone is seriously injured… then we head for camp and rest… no matter, Tav, I need you in my sight at all times,” You couldn’t help the smile when she took your hand in her own, checked you over once for any lingering injuries, and pressed on before anyone could even answer her question.

Karlach –

Gravity was betraying Karlach on this particular day in so many ways. The way her stomach was dropping to her feet had her fighting back the urge to puke. The lightness of her soul wanting to leave behind the overheating engine that kept her in place. It was all so disorienting, but most of all was the gravity that dragged your body down into the abyss, completely disappearing from sight.

“NOOO!” she bellowed, fire engulfing her body, threatening all who were foolish enough to draw close.

“Karlach! It’s okay!” insisted Shadowheart urgently, “Their soul, look!”

Karlach always knew your soul would have a calming aura about it. The tiny, cool, blue ball of light was beckoning the fiery red that was Karlach’s being. There was still a stray archer somewhere out of sight, but that was of no concern to her. She needed to get to you, to protect you… She had to nourish your soul, feed it life from one of the scrolls that had to have been crafted from the very Gods themselves

You two still had so much left to explore together… The party had just encountered Dammon and had supplied enough infernal iron to ensure an upgrade to Karlach’s engine. Boy did you two celebrate that night after she received her first real hug in a decade. It was all fire and all passion, and that was everything that Karlach needed in life. You were everything she needed.

So forgive her if she refused to give you up so easily after finally, finally receiving the happiness she was denied for so long. She’s done her waiting… Ten years of it! In Avernus… You didn’t give up on her, not when a misguided Wyll had sent you on a path to kill her, and not when you found out she was a ticking time bomb waiting to blow. She would fight through all Nine Realms of the Hells to do the same for you.

Karlach reached the floating orb that was your soul, forced herself to relax enough to extinguish her own flames, and cradled it in her palms as if it was the grandest treasure in the world… to Karlach, it was the world. She had the world in the palm of her hands and she couldn’t help but burst into tears. You were too good to have had any hiccup in your heartbeat, to have been taken so early that Karlach had to bend the very will of fate to bring you back.

“Call me selfish, I don’t give a shit,” Karlach muttered to anyone who was listening. No one would dare to argue her in such a state as this

Gently repositioning your soul into one palm, Karlach reached into her pocket and withdrew a Scroll of Revivify. She swaddled the orb in the scroll, as if tucking it into a warm blanket on a cold night before bringing the entirety of it to her lips and whispering the incantation as if it were a prayer. Your body materialized before the party’s very eyes and you soon found yourself pulled into Karlach’s crushing embrace before she apologized and supplied a Potion of Supreme Healing.

“Try to stay on firm ground from now on, eh?”

Minthara –

Oh Gods, oh Hells, oh shit… May the Gods grant mercy on the soul that decides to cleave your soul from your body, leaving you a mangled mess of what Minthara had come to claim as hers. She was not finished with you and the rush of high you brought with, and she would part the Heavens or douse the Hells to rip you back into her life, and she was about to demonstrate such at this very moment.

Gortash was a formidable foe, he was Chosen for a reason… and that was because Minthara thought herself too good to be a God’s plaything. Second best must answer to her scorn and no longer will anyone question that the wrath of Minthara could shake even the Gods.

The entire scene shifted, and no more were Gortash’s semi-invisible minions, or his tangible, looming fist. He was on his knees, a quivering mess as he gazed into Minthara’s eyes and saw nothing but his own pitiful reflection.

At last, there was a change in her features as a cruel grin slowly twisted the edges of her lips. She would draw this out and savor every last scream he had to offer. It was one thing to threaten the safety of the entire world, but to outright target and end your life, with Minthara standing there no less… it was a direct insult and a loss that she couldn’t even really bring herself to feel.

Minthara is calculating, and while she refuses to ever witness your soul leave your body again, she also knew that she was resourceful if not intimidating. There were ways of bringing you back to life, and every option was at her fingertips, it was just a matter of who or what she wanted to exploit.

After driving a dagger straight through Grotash’s eye and into his skull, Minthara hardly even basked in the quivering of his pained body as he dropped and convulsed in a pool of his own blood. No, she was too busy turning towards Shadowheart and barking orders.

“You! Call upon your deity and demand them to revive your allies with half their health. I’m aware that you are granted this wish only once, and I have yet to have seen you use it.” It was done with only a minimal amount of glaring, and suddenly you were stiffly rising to your feet with a groan.

“You were careless with your life, and I am severely unappreciative of that… You would do best to not piss me off as such again, okay?”

You were nodding along without a word, but you couldn't help the flutter of your newly restarted heart when Minthara carefully put her arm around your shoulder as a means to both guide and protect you from what more is to come.

[xvxni]

Hey 😊 would you do a Damon Salvatore imagine where you’re dating but then you leave the house after a fight with him and get in a bad car crash. He feels this and searches for you, just to find you I’m time to save your life. Then he stays by your side, feeling guilty and when you wake up again he’s there taking care of you, apologizes and promises to never let any harm happen to you again? Just some lovely fluff and a bit angsty. Thank you so much 😊

Apology

Summary: Your boyfriend Damon has been acting very possessive and controlling and you get into a huge fight with him. You go out for a drive to clear your head but end up in an accident instead. Damon finds you and takes you home, making up for everything he had done.

ANGST, fluff

Damon being controlling, car crash, reader having a near-death experience

1.5K

A/N: Thank you @imagine-all-the-fandoms for being my first request! I'm so sorry it took forever (this is horrible). Do let me know if this is satisfactory. Happy reading!

Damon Salvatore X Human!Fem!Reader

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Your boyfriend of two years, Damon, was recently being very controlling and possessive. He started making your decisions for you without bothering to consult you, being unreasonably jealous of any male around you and demanding to be with you at all times, not understanding the healthy concept of giving 'space'.

But this time, it ran deep. He compelled your childhood best friend, Jake, to leave town and forget all about you. You caught him in nick of time otherwise you would've never even known about what happened to him!

Deeply hurt and driven mad with rage, you left the Boarding House for a drive after a few broken objects, wounding words and a heavy heart.

You didn't know how, perhaps you weren't in your right senses, you couldn't hit the brakes and crashed right into a tree. The car flipped over, and your arms twisted at an odd angle. Your limp and now-sore body was fastened with the seat belt, and you couldn't undo it. You were hit badly in the back of your head, and you could feel unbearable burn of a deep gash.

Your senses had perked up under the stillness of the night, and you heard a faint trickle. Then wetness across your back, your head, soon trickling down to your neck. It was a strange fluid --- coppery metallic smell, thick and red with a mud-brownish tinge. It was oddly enticing and familiar. A shiver ran down your spine when you realised it was your blood. Blood, so much blood --- your own. You were losing so much blood, and you could do nothing to stop it. You felt faint and suddenly, the hardest thing in the world was staying conscious.

You were terrified. If you were going to die, then it mustn't be like this. An accident. Your whole life snatched away just because of a mistake. God, you had so many things to do in life. Get a job, travel the world, adopt a cat --- ordinary things but they were your dreams, which now lay shattered. You didn't want your life --- and death --- so unremarkable and ordinary. And while all this time, there was a deep wound of regret in your heart --- perhaps greater than the gash on your head --- to part with Damon.

Sure, he could be such an asshole at times, but you knew that he loves you with all his heart. You didn't want your last words to him be an angry "I hate you". You had never really thought about it, what would be your last words to him. You couldn't breathe at the sheer grief that hit you at the moment. Unable to withstand the blow, you closed your eyes, succumbing to a world of endless darkness, getting lost in your way towards the blue-eyed vampire. And you couldn't do a damn thing about it...

Anger and frustration clouded Damon's mind. It was all hazy, and he was searching for a light. Ah, there it is! Remorse, regret, fear of having losing her. He knew what he did was wrong, but why couldn't she understand? He loved her so damn much, everything he did was tp protect her.

She lived her constant danger because he loved her, and he knew at times that he should let her go, but he couldn't. He needed her to function, she was his damn sanity, and without her, he lost it.

Suddenly, there was this intense urge to go find her, not to waste a single moment. He'll do anything to have her back, she can't leave him. He knew he was unreasonable, ill-tempered and sometimes too controlling, but he couldn't help himself.

He got behind the steering wheel and let his heart lead the way, for it was with her where it truly lay.

He was aghast, devastated, even. Finding her like this, so near to death, he suddenly came to his senses. He was crying, he realised. He never cried. But that's what she does to him --- make him into someone he never thought he could be.

"Y/N, no! No, no, no!" he wailed, feeling utterly helpless. He undid your seatbelt and somehow pulled you out of the overturned car. Without wasting a moment, he bit into his wrist and forced his blood into your mouth.

You drank for a moment then turned away, trying to sit up but immediately fell back and the sheer exhaustion and soreness you felt.

He was here. He was here, you realised.

"Oh Damon, I'm so sorry!" you sobbed into his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around you and you knew he was crying into your shoulder.

You simply let things just be. In that dark night, the feeling of death heavy around you, the two of you embraced a new life. Of promises of forever, of understanding, of accepting --- and it was beautiful.

After what seemed like an eternity, he composed himself, giving you some strength, too. "Let's get you home, yeah?" he whispered and you nodded. He lifted you bridal style in his arms and helped you into his car. You leaned on him, as much as you could and he kissed the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry..." he began but your shook your head. He understood. Not now.

You drove to the Boarding House in companionable silence. The silence was golden. The silence spoke it all. And all you needed was the silence.

With his help you went inside. The house that was so familiar --- it looked the same --- but it promised something different.

"You don't know how scared I was today," he whispered as he rubbed your feet.

"Me too... I didn't want to die like that. Not without saying goodbye, though I wonder if I ever will be able to say it-" he silenced you with a kiss. "I won't let anything happen to you. I want you all for myself, I know that's selfish. I am prick and I don't deserve you, but I do love you very much, so much that it's frustrating, and I won't be able to live with myself if something happens to you. I know I make bad decisions, I know I react impulsively, but I do it only for you. I am sorry for today. I had no reason to compel Jake, but I did it anyway because I was insecure. I realised my mistake, I have no reason to be. So, if you have it in you, please forgive me...". Tears were streaming down his face.

You wiped them away and hugged him close.

"I'm hungry," you said, trying to lighten up the atmosphere. It made him laugh. "Pasta?"

"Yes!"

[girlgenius1111]

always enough for us

barca femeni x reader

r gets kicked out of her house. her teammates find out. protective barca at it's finest.

cw- bad parents... referenced homophobia?

Your back hurt. Really, this was the least of your problems. A few days ago, your parents had kicked you out. It didn't really come as a surprise to you; they'd never been very good parents, and you knew it was just a matter of time before they found out about... you, and decided they were done. You'd been crashing at your friend Sofia's house since then, on the couch. You couldn't complain, considering how kind it was of your friend to let you stay with her, but the couch was killing your back. This is what you forced yourself to think about as you climbed out of her car at the training grounds, instead of, well, any other part of the situation.

You were fine. You didn't need your parents, not at all. You didn't need their help, their house, their love, any of it. You had just turned 18, and you were sure you'd be able to find an apartment soon considering your salary at Barca. Everything was fine.

Of course, you forgot to factor in your nosy, nosy teammates. And how bad of a liar you were. Combined, your secret was out before you wanted it to be, which was never.

-----

You were walking quickly from Sofia's car, hoping that you'd arrived early enough that no one was there to see you get dropped off, instead of driving your own car. It wasn't really your car, it was your parents, and while they had let you take a lot of your stuff, the car was not one of them. You thought you were safe, seeing no one ahead of you, when you heard your name being called from behind you, a distinct British accent ringing across the parking lot.

"Y/n!!!!! Wait!!!" Lucy called dramatically. Rolling your eyes, you turned around, motioning for her to hurry up. She arrived by your side, falling in to step next to you.

"Who was that dropping you off? What happened to your car?"

"Oh. That was my friend, Sofia. I... we... my car is.... broken. It's broken and it's getting fixed. So Sofia drove me. Because my car is broken," you stuttered out, honestly surprising even yourself with how bad of a lie you'd just told considering you'd been practicing the lie all week.

"Your car is... broken?" Lucy asked, shooting you a weird look.

"Yeah, the engine or something," you say, trying to act casually.

"Why aren't your parents driving you?"

"They have work."

Lucy is quiet for a moment, before she stops you in the hallway, turning to face you. "Is something going on? You're being weird."

"Weirder than normal?" you try to joke.

"Y/n." Lucy says. She was so rarely serious off the pitch, it was kind of intimidating.

"Nothing is going on."

"You are really one of the worst liars I've ever met. Your whole face is red right now, do you know that?" Lucy asks, not a hint of humor in her voice. Instead, her eyes are squinting at you inquisitively, and you feel like they're burning right through you.

"I'm not lying!" You protest, feeling your cheeks heat up even more.

"It just got redder. Tell me what's going on."

"No." Lying wasn't working, but you were stubborn, and you're sure you could out-stubborn Lucy.

"Fine. I'll go ask Mapi if she knows what's up with you. Or Irene. Or Alexia," she threatens. You hadn't expected her to go there so soon.

"No, Lucy, please don't," you beg, reaching out to catch her wrist as she begins to walk away.

"Then tell me what's happening. Did you crash your car?"

"No I- I didn't crash my car, Lucia, seriously." Lucy smirks, crossing her arms though, ensuring that she's standing between you and any viable exit from the conversation. You take a breath. "I'm just staying with Sofia for a bit. It's not a big deal."

Lucy's smirk is gone. "Why? Did something happen with your parents?" Your poor relationship with them wasn't really a secret to anyone on the team. They hardly went to any games before they'd kicked you out. Your older teammates silently disapproved of them, you knew, but they were careful never to say anything in front of you.

"I told you what was going on. Can I go now?" You ask, ignoring Lucy's questions.

"Hey, wait," she tries, but you slip past her, walking down the hall towards the locker room.

"I wouldn't tell mention this to anyone, if I were you. Otherwise word might get out about what you and Ona were doing in the showers last week," you tease, enjoying the way Lucy's face heats up at your words. You're pretty confident she won't risk getting ratted out just to get to the bottom of what's going on with you.

Apparently, you underestimate how much Lucy cares about you.

-----

You've managed to take your mind off things during practice, and you completely miss Lucy quietly talking to Alexia during a water break. You also miss Alexia talking to Irene and Mapi during the next water break. You take your time showering and changing, knowing that the fewer people around when you leave, the fewer people to realize you're walking, and in the complete opposite direction of your house. You don't really think about your conversation with Lucy again until you're on your way out of the locker room, and Alexia calls you to stay back. You're one of the last ones in the room as it is, and you turn slowly, eyes finding Lucy's. You glare at her, and she shrugs, patting you on the shoulder before leaving the locker room. You turn, finding Alexia, Irene, and Mapi all sat on a bench, looking at you.

"Yes?" You say.

"Is there something you need to tell us?" Alexia asks firmly. She's not fucking around, you can tell, nor is Irene. And, a rare occurrence, neither is Mapi. You look to her, hoping she'll crack a joke or something and ease the tension in the room, but she's staring at you with a matching searching gaze.

"You all had a great practice!" You try, shooting Alexia a smile. It falls off your face when she only raises an eyebrow at you.

"Want to try that again?"

"Alright, Mapi's penalties could use some work." Mapi frowns, but Alexia ignores your comment.

"Y/n."

"Alexia," you say, trying your best to look like nothing was going on, like nothing was bothering you. Like the longer you stood in front of them, it wasn't getting harder to collapse into the fits of sobs you'd been fighting for a week.

"Enough, y/n. Talk." Alexia replies. Mapi and Irene are fighting smiles now. Watching you and Alexia go back and forth was always entertaining; a real battle of wills.

"I'm staying with one of my friends. I'm assuming that's what Lucy told you."

All three of them were surprised when you give up so easily. It only worried them more, the way your eyes fall to stare at your shoes, and the way you clasp your hands together, trying to hide how they're shaking.

"Why?" Alexia asks. Her voice is softer now, more gentle, but still, she leaves no option for you to refuse to answer. You can tell, by a quick glance to her face, that she's losing patience. You're scared, suddenly, that they'll give up. On you. They'll stop caring, because you try so hard not to let them. This is what prompts you to be honest, really. The fear of no one, no one at all, caring for you anymore.

"My parents kicked me out." Your voice is just more than a whisper. The older girls' faces fall instantly. They feared this, when Lucy told them about your conversation, but they hoped they were wrong, that it wasn't this.

"What happened with them?" Irene asks, almost like she can't help herself. You're sure she's thinking of her son, of how she couldn't imagine doing that to him.

"I don't really want to talk about it." You say. Mapi opens her mouth, surely to push you further, but to your surprise, Alexia lays a hand on her arm, cutting her off. Your captain looks at you for a minute, eyes searching yours, before she speaks.

"Okay. You're gonna stay with me. I have an extra bedroom, and Mapi and Ingrid live almost right next door. We can go get your stuff from your friends now."

"No, Ale. No. I'm fine at Sofia's, really."

"Well I'm not fine with you there. You're a kid, you need adult supervision. Besides, it makes more sense. I can drive you to practice and everything. And make sure you're taking care of yourself."

"Alexia. No."

"Y/n. Yes. This isn't up for discussion," Alexia has raised her voice, just a little, and you take a step back. Alexia notices, because of course she does, and she calms herself down instantly, whole face softening. "Look, I know this isn't ideal, but this is what we're doing. Please, just trust me, y/n? If you hate living with me, we can figure something else out, but just give it a shot, okay?"

You almost laugh, because really, Alexia thinks that the problem is that you don't want to live with her. That couldn't be further from the truth- you would like to, deep down you admit it. It would be easier. It would make you feel safe. You just can't impose like that, can't do that to Alexia. She'd get tired of you, eventually, just like your parents had. You didn't want that.

You take too long thinking all of this, apparently, because soon she's ushering you out of the room and towards her car. Her and Irene walk ahead, quietly discussing what you can only assume to be how much they hate your parents. Mapi hangs back, walking with you.

"You know that Alexia wouldn't offer if she didn't really want you there, right?" The defender says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You look at her in surprise, not expecting her to understand your reasoning when no one else did. She just gives you a wry smile, waiting for you to answer.

"Why would she want me there, Mapi? You ask. Mapi frowns.

"Because you're you. And we all love you. Alexia especially, I think you're her favorite. But seriously, y/n, any of us would take you in without a second thought." Mapi says it so matter of factly, you're thrown for a loop. It didn't make sense, really. That these people, your teammates, who owed you nothing, were willing to drop everything for you, when your parents... well.

You aren't really sure what to respond to her, and you don't have to, because Alexia is gesturing you towards her car, and Irene is pulling you into a tight hug, telling you to come over any time. You return the hug, hearing the echo of Mapi's words in your ears. Maybe she was right.

-----

Sofia had been surprised to see you packing, but she understood. You're sure she's relieved to have you out of her hair, even if she doesn't say it. The tight hug she gives you tells a different story, and you could swear there are tears in her eyes as you walk out of the building. Once again, you're left completely speechless at the care your friends are showing you.

It's not too late by the time you arrive back at Alexia's, all the stuff you brought from your parents, and then from Sofia's, in tow, but you feel an interrogation coming on from Alexia, so you slip off to shower, needing a few minutes to yourself to process the day. By the time your done, you've cried a fair amount in the shower, and you're sure your eyes are red and puffy.

Still, when you appear in the living room, quietly taking a seat on the couch, a safe distance away from where Alexia sits, scrolling through her phone, you promise yourself that you won't cry again. Not in front of Alexia. She looks up when you enter, brows immediately furrowing at the sight of your tearstained cheeks, and you pretend you don't know what she's looking at.

"How are you feeling?" she asks kindly, after giving you a minute to start the conversation, if you felt like it.

"Fine." you say shortly. Alexia doesn't say anything. After 2 full minutes of silence, you realize she's trying to make you so uncomfortable that you talk, knowing you hate awkwardness.You wish she didn't know you so well, as you open your mouth to finally let it all out, but a part of you feels so loved, so cared for, by it.

"My parents are... my parents. I shouldn't have expected anything different from them, when they found out."

"Found out what?" Alexia asks casually.

You take a big breath. No one on the team knows. Really, only Sofia and a few other people know. You want to tell, you want to be open about it. You wish it was as easy as just doing something you want to. You know, realistically that the team won't care, that Alexia won't care. Still, you can't seem to forget your parent's reactions, and you feel your heart clench with fear.

"I'm... um... They caught me, kissing a girl. I'm gay." You say, eyes blurring with tears as you stare at the table in front of you. Your throat burns with the effort of keeping your sobs in, but you can't cry. Not when Alexia hasn't even said anything. Not when you'd be crying about a different reaction.

The blonde woman scoots closer to you, until her shoulder is pressed up against yours. Still, you keep your eyes on the white wood table in front of you. When Alexia speaks, it's the gentlest you've ever heard her be.

"Y/n, I'm sorry your parents didn't respond well. You deserve more than that." At this, you shrug, ignoring the way your bottom lip is trembling. A few tears escape, and you wipe them away quickly, like they were never there. "Can you look at me?" Alexia asks. You turn to her, biting your lip to keep your emotions in check when you see the way Ale's eyes are also watery.

"I'm really proud of you, cariño."

"For what?" you respond, before you can stop yourself, sounding more like a sob than actual words.

"Oh, pequeña. For all of it. For talking to me when I know being vulnerable is difficult. For telling me, when I know it couldn't have been easy. For turning into this incredibly good person, despite the people the raised you."

There's no chance for you, after that. The cries fall out of your lips, and you are powerless to stop them. Alexia is steady next to you, even as your body trembles with emotion. She pulls you into her, arms holding you tightly against her.

"I know, pequeña, I'm sorry. It's gonna be okay. I promise." If you weren't preoccupied with sobbing into your captain's shirt, you'd notice that she's also crying, just a little.

"I don't understand why they can't just love me. It's all they're supposed to do, but I'm not good enough for them," you cry, all the feelings you'd been pushing down now pouring out of you.

"No, cariño. They are the ones that are not good enough for you. You have so many people in your life that love you, that have no obligation to love you, but they do anyway. That means that you are good. Your parents... it's their problem, not yours." Alexia can tell you aren't fully convinced. She pulls back, tilting your chin up to look at you.

"You are good, cariño, so good. You'll always be good enough. We'll tell you that, everyday until you believe it, if that's what it takes."

"We?" you ask, confused.

The blonde woman looks a little exasperated. "The team. Y/n, Irene and Mapi were ready to fight me to get you to live with them. When the rest of the team finds out, I'm going to have some serious competition. We want you around, y/n. We really do."

"Oh." you say, because you're starting to believe her, and you aren't sure how else to respond to that. "So... you really don't mind me staying here?" you check.

"No. I really don't." Alexia promises. You nod, weakly smiling at her. She's glad to see something on your face that isn't a frown. Her phone buzzes in her hand, then, and she picks it up, expecting it to be from Mapi or Irene, asking how you were doing. Instead, it's from Lucy.

"Y/n?" she asks.

You're drying your eyes with your shirt sleeve, and you miss the amused expression on her face. "What?"

"Why did Lucy just text me that 'y/n is lying, whatever she tells you.'"

You gasp, a real smile lighting up your face. Alexia laughs at your expression. "I almost forgot! I told Lucy if she told you what was going on, she'd regret it."

You guess that maybe, Lucy was just looking out for you, and maybe you don't need to tell Alexia what her and Ona were doing, but then again, the shower is a public space, and you'd been scarred for life. You'd thank Lucy for telling Ale later, after you enjoyed watching her get scolded by Alexia. You're starting to think most of the team would forgive you for almost anything.

-----

[immajustvibehere]

Amidst a Crashing World (1/5)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

summary: You had left the gang about a year ago. There were many reasons as to why, but that you had received a rather gruff rejection from the man you loved was definitely on that list. Now, Arthur appears in front of your little cabin with an interesting demand.

tags for this series: fluff, little bit of angst, no-tb-Arthur, literally your love redemption, maybe smut (but probably not), slow burn (but I mean how slow can a story really burn in five chapters?)

Link to my Masterlist

1600 words, less than 10 minutes reading time

It had been a year since you had last seen him. He was one of the reasons why you had decided to leave the gang. Because it had become unbearable to be around the man you had feelings for. The man you had confessed those feelings to and the man who had rejected you. It had been an uncomfortable moment, to say the least. Dutch had been talking about a bigger score for a while now and the mission had only been a few days away. You had approached Arthur who had been seated near a campfire with Hosea and Reverend, deep in a seemingly serious but one-sided conversation.

"May I talk to you for a moment?", you had pleaded. Your hands had been shaking. You had been aware: every score the boys went on held the possibility of never seeing them again. And you had felt brave that day. Brave enough to finally confess that you had feelings for this man. He was kind enough and caring towards you. He never was someone to express affection too openly so you hoped...that even if he did not feel entirely the same, he might be open to get to know you better and give you a chance.

"Sure", Arthur had grunted, a little groggily and stood up. You had walked a few steps away from Reverend and Hosea, just far enough to make give them the impression that this was supposed to be a private conversation. Quickly, but precisely and not without a certain shake in your voice, you let Arthur know that you liked him. More than the normal amount at least.

You peaked through your curtains to watch this very man dismount from his horse and caringly fix its reins next to the one of your horse, which was barely acknowledging the visitor.

For a moment, Arthur had just stared. Then he had shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck with a warm but stifled chuckle escaping his throat.

"Yer joking, aren't ya?", he mumbled as he nervously peeked back to Hosea and Reverend, who hadn’t exactly given you attention during this ordeal. When Arthur had caught your dead-serious face and how you swallowed after he had said those words, he knew that you, in fact, hadn’t been joking.

"I- ehr...I don't see ya like that, I'm sorry", he had stumbled over his words. His voice hadn’t been upbeat or hopeful, not even apologetic or friendly. No, the longer you had turned those words over in your mind afterwards, you heard how bitter, how disappointed, and somewhat accusatory he sounded. He had turned around and had walked back to his log, shaking his head, chuckling coldly.

Arthur's hand plunged into his jacket, and he pulled out a wrinkly, yellowy paper that he unfolded. As he held the paper in one hand, a grin flitted across his face, before he took a breath and started loudly:

"I'm looking for the fierce, the ferocious....", Arthur stopped and plucked a ripe tomato from its stem. You had been growing this beautiful tomato plant right next to the gate that separated your garden from the path that travellers commonly used. But Arthur was the first one who had the audacity to help himself. Then he went on: "The downright awful degenerate y/n. Supposedly, she robbed a stagecoach and left the driver in a condition that left much to desire...She has fled to find refuge from her abhorrent, ginormous bounty of 15 proud dollars!"

Arthur had a shit-eating big grin on his face when you finally pushed the door to your little cabin open. He popped the tomato into his mouth, savouring the taste as he watched you step into the light and lean against the door frame.  

"That you?", Arthur asked indistinctly with his mouth full, quick to catch some tomato juice with his sleeve as it escaped the corner of his mouth. He held up the bounty poster that showed the most unflattering sketch of your features that you had ever seen.

"I look myself in the mirror quite often, but I've never seen this creature staring back", you joked as you nodded at the sketch. You were still unsure what his sudden appearance at your doorstep was supposed to mean.

Arthur shrugged and sarcastically answered: "I really think they did ya justice. Have you seen the pictures going round of me?"

You had. They weren't nearly as bad as the one he held up of you. But they did paint him more cruel than he looked right now. Honestly, knowing him better, all you can see is an actually soft man which might look big and scary when he swings his gun around, but now, as he took his hat off, he looked harmless. The afternoon sun nearly blinded him as he looked at you, but he deemed the gesture necessary to be polite, apparently.

"Yer trying to take me in for a 15 dollar bounty?", you asked and crossed your arms.

"Don't want'a sound rude but that's barely worth it...", Arthur smiled, "No I ehrm...was close by. A farmer down that way told me you was living here. I helped him fix a wheel on his waggon."

"Sure...", you mumbled suspiciously. There was no way you would have naturally come up in this conversation.

"'s been a while...", Arthur commented.

"Yeah. More than a year. Took me this long to figure out how it'd bear fruit", you pointed at the tomato plant Arthur had stolen from.

Shamelessly, he plugged another one and ate it, "They're good."

"I know", you sighed. You had given up and moved aside to let the man into your cabin.

It was a humble little place. Just big enough to fit a table, three chairs, a bed, a stove and a cupboard. Arthur noticed the rifle that leaned next to the bed, the few books that were scattered on the table and finally his eyes fell on a couple of sketches you had pinned onto the wall. After leaving the gang, you had tried your luck with drawing. Yes, it was a way to remember Arthur, because though you haven't seen many of his drawings, you knew he sketched everything he laid his eyes on.

For a moment, you hoped that Arthur would comment on your sketches. There was one of a doe that you were particularly proud of, but Arthur just briefly scanned them before turning his attention back to you.

"Nice little cabin ya got here...killed the fella that lived in it before or...?", Arthur suggested, his eyes falling on a little hole in the roof that needed fixing and the bedframe which was uneven and brittle.

You almost laughed at the suggestion: "No. It belongs to an old lady who went to live with her sister in the city. She gave me the cabin to look out for, until her grandson is old enough to live in it."

"Oh", Arthur commented, fidgeting with his hat.

You had spent months trying to forget this man. You were sure you'd never see him again, not if you could have helped it. You were glad about leaving your affiliations with the van der Linde gang behind. However, this had never been the official deal. The deal had been that you could roam for a while, figure yourself out and then join back. You never did. And now you had a sour feeling as to why this man was currently scanning your backyard through the window.

"Why are you here?", you asked, your tone serious.

"It's good to see you again", Arthur light-heartedly said. It almost sounded like a joke.

"Arthur", you warned him.

"Lot has happened since you left...", Arthur said, still wandering around in this cabin as if he was scanning the small territory, "we lost some people in Blackwater...Mac and Davey...Jenny..."

You knew about Mac. It was reported in the newspaper, but when Arthur mentioned Jenny, your jaw dropped. You felt a sort of anger flare up. You had gotten along well with Jenny. She was a kind and funny girl and you had considered her a friend.

"How did- Why...How did this even happen?!", you grumbled, "Jenny wasn't someone who would be in the midst of a fight. Hell, she knew how to handle a gun, but-"

"I know", Arthur interrupted, "couple weeks ago we lost Sean, too."

"Why are you here, Arthur? And why are you telling me this?"

"Wanted to see how you've been doing...", he shrugged, but his demeanour changed when you opened a drawer. You didn't even need to pull out the gun before Arthur stopped with the sugarcoating.

"Dutch wants you back."

Hell, this didn't sound like a suggestion. It was more like a threat. Arthur was here to collect you. Not for a 15-dollar bounty, but for Dutch. Because he had lost too many people and now you needed to jump in. Also, every bit of hope you held close to your heart, that Arthur...that there was a tiny bit of him that wanted to see you. That he really wondered how you had been doing.

It died with those words. It stung.

"Get out", you demanded.

"Y/N-"

"Arthur, I'm not coming back."

"Dutch-"

"I don't care. I don't give a fuck what Dutch wants", you yelled, slowly pulling the gun out, "Honestly, you have some nerve showing up with this request."

Then, you had to laugh. Laugh at the absurdity of it and laugh because you were hurt. The laughter helped to supress the tears, for now.

"Ya ain't gonna shoot me, sweetheart", Arthur said knowingly, putting his hat back on and slowly backing out towards the door, arms still raised because he didn't want to give you the impression that he'd draw on you.

"Don't flatter yourself", you said, slowly walking towards him to make him move out of your house, "I wouldn't shoot your pretty face, but I can put holes in other parts of your body and it would hurt enough."

You felt bold, cocked the gun and aimed at his leg.

"Y/N..."

"Tell Dutch you didn't find me. Tell him I'm dead. Tell him I forced you to draw on me and you shot me...I honestly don't care. I'm not going back. I'm not...canon fodder for a cause I don't believe in anymore", you stated, your eyes fixed on Arthur. He might just notice that tears pricked your eyes, there was a hint of concern in his features.

When he opened his mouth, you were quick to interrupt him: "If you care for me just the tiniest fucking bit...yer gonna fuck off right now and not come back."

You thought about how he'd answer, 'I don't see ya like that', lasso you and drag you back into whatever hole the gang was hiding at the moment, but instead, he tipped his hat, turned around and mounted his horse.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Next chapter: here

I never have the nerve to keep a consistent taglist, but here are some tags for people who said they might be interested in that sort of story:

@pinkiemme @loveheartarthur @lonesome-ranger @twola @shiokitsune @hugthedragon @missredemption @kakashiislut @thewalkingdead1463

If you want to be tagged, please comment under this post if you want to be included to the taglist for this story OR any fic I post in future.

Special thanks to @little-honeypie 'cause we've been cooking that story up together <3