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queerchoicesblog · 2 years

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Milk shake Talk (Chapter 3, TSHOEH)

Celia develops a crush on Evelyn and comes up with the weirdest deal Evelyn has ever been offered: mutual help and genuine friendship.

Previously: A Star Is Born, Little Women

Next: The New Queens of Hollywood

AO3 LINK

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One week into rehearsals of Little Women, I was tapping the wheel of my baby pink Chevy at a light on my way to the studios.

My first week had been the roller coaster I expected it to be and even more: promotional pictures, movie poster sessions and shootings. I gave it all and it paid off: now I knew I had nothing to worry about acting-wise. My Beth would fit just perfectly among the stars, and I even got incredulous and enthusiastic praise already from the veteran of the group, Marmee. I drew confidence from it.

Of course, I also became aware of other less comforting things. I had no idea how to fit into the Hollywood stardom and I wanted to be a part of it, at some point at least. But I was clearly doing it all wrong: my name was always just a footnote on magazines - if I was even mentioned - and there were no adoring fans waiting for me outside the studio at the end of the day, hoping to catch a glimpse of their idol. If anything, I had to horn them to clear the way for me at my arrival or departure from the studios while they waited for someone else. I had never been asked for an autograph or a photo.

It was painfully obvious that I completely lacked the star factor Ruby, Joy and especially the one and only Evelyn Hugo mastered like pros. She was on every magazine, either on her own at this or that hotspot in town or in the arms of her husband, Captain Hollywood Don Adler, she was the talk of the town and studio favourite, and no party could be called a success if she wasn’t among the guests. She had the world at her feet and she knew it all too well.

The warm voice of Elvis blasted from the radio.

You look like an angel (look like an angel)

Walk like an angel (walk like an angel)

Talk like an angel

But I got wise

You're the devil in disguise

Oh, yes, you are, devil in disguise

The devil in disguise…I smiled to myself: the title of the Elvis hit song seemed fitting for Evelyn Hugo. She was as a beautiful as a goddess but damn, the lady got paws!

Contrary to my wildest expectations, I had caught her observing me as we were shooting and during breaks. I could feel her eyes on me even if I wasn’t looking her way and it gave me a thrill of excitement. Of course, back then I wouldn’t dare to hope that there wasn’t something more than either curiosity or, worst case scenario, reinforced hostility in her gaze but I liked to pick the first. Because I knew she wouldn’t check me out the way I surprised myself doing at times when she wasn’t looking my way. I tried to conceal it but I couldn’t ignore my heart beating faster when she was anywhere close to me: it hammered like a drum when she pulled me into an embrace on stage, shooting, and it was so loud that I was terrified she could hear it too, pressed to my chest. Luckily, if she did, she took it for jitters and didn’t even look at me when the take was over.

I must say that the idea of Evelyn Hugo having taken whatever interest in me flattered me more than it should have, and it took every ounce of discipline left in me not to let it go to my head. Because, again, I knew she wasn’t like me and I repeated it to myself like a mantra. Yet, maybe I could get on her good side, I thought.

Then, one day, I was having a smoke outside on a break when Ruby joined me and asked me to light her cigarette. She dissolved into a cloud of smoke for a moment, throwing her head back. We were still in our costumes and the contrast of our bygone outfits with our very modern vice amused me.

Ruby started chatting over this and that, complaining of the taste of coffee that morning and of the bad breath of the actor playing Laurie with whom she just had a scene. I remember saying something witty about his surname rhyming with “mint”, something he clearly wasn’t very familiar with, I joked: I had been around him long enough not to envy at all Ruby who had a kissing scene with him in the weeks to come. The stage kisses back then weren’t like the ones we are used to know but still the thought of it didn’t seem tempting.

My words made Ruby laugh and I joined her: a little camaraderie at last. After a moment, she cocked her head to the side and observed me. I couldn’t read the look on her face so I inhaled smoke and looked into the distance.

“You’re fun, St. James, I give you that. She has always called me like that. “After all, it would be a pity if you were to go”.

“Go where?”.

“Off this set” Ruby said casually, blowing off smoke.

“And why would I have to go? Mr. Sullivan seems happy with my Beth” I furrowed my brows, confused.

“Maybe Mr. Sullivan, but not everyone”.

“So what? The project still needs Beth, me” I retorted, shrugging at her insinuation.

I looked at her and apparently what she saw on my face made her laugh again.

“Oh, don’t be so naïve, St. James! No one is irreplaceable in this business and you are no exception, especially if someone higher than you says the word”.

I swallowed hard because I knew, of course, that she was right: Hollywood could be really brutal and chewed you and spat you out just that easily. But Little Women was my ticket to the A League and I wouldn’t give up so easily, no matter how concerned I was to know a threat had already been issued on me.

“You’re just messing with me” I said, my jaw tense.

“I’m not, cross my heart” she laughed. “Go ask Evelyn, if you don’t believe me”.

She nodded to the side and I followed her gaze. Her friend was lost in conversation with Mr. Cameron by the door, away from our earshot.

“She told me yesterday that she and Don are discussed getting you fired” Ruby said with pretended nonchalance that didn’t fool me for a second. “It seems you have a friend, St. James”.

As if on cue, an AD informed us that the break was over and the shootings would resume in five. Ruby patted me on the shoulder and guided me back inside, still bragging of her malicious confidence. I didn’t have to look at her to know she was satisfied: it was clear now that the little camaraderie moment was a farce and she only meant to upset me, dropping the bomb. Sadly, she somehow succeeded: I was a bit shaken and hurt.

Evelyn was still talking to Mr. Cameron. She turned towards us as we approached.

“Ah, there you are!”. I wasn’t sure if she meant the two of us or just her dear friend Ruby. “Harry was saying that Ari made some changes to the lake scene and want to share with all of us”.

“Another change?” Ruby blurted, as if our conversation never happened. “That man is a bipolar or something?”.

The look on Evelyn’s face told she agreed while Harry laughed.

“You’ll love them, I swear”.

“Why do I doubt that?” Evelyn retorted, raising an eyebrow playfully.

The two of them have always had a very palpable chemistry since the very beginning.

Harry brushed his hands and invited us all to follow. I obliged, walking mechanically with the group, my head still wrapped around Ruby’s revelation. I threw a look at Evelyn, who was now fixing her hair as she walked: her face betrayed nothing of her plan to fire me. Had her pal kept her mouth shut, I would have never suspected anything.

Heaven help me, I didn’t see

The devil in your eyes

That got me thinking over the following days: Evelyn was a true work of art, in her own way. It wasn’t just a matter of being so gorgeous she would turn heads and draw all attention on her as soon as she appeared on screen…it went beyond it. Evelyn was the most calculating and at the same time completely unashamed girl I had ever known: Evelyn was just unapologetically awful!

I tried hard to hold a grudge on her for being so scheming behind my back but I found myself contemplating the bigger picture. Evelyn was afraid of me because, of course, I was a better actress and she couldn’t allow herself to lose the competition with someone like me, the rising newbie. So, she decided to take advantage of what she had that I lacked - power, influence - and use it to crash the threat. I don’t think anyone ever doubted that Evelyn would be the biggest star of Hollywood, not even Evelyn herself, who was doing everything in her power to claim the spot she wanted on the top of the world. It didn’t matter how low she would have to stoop, how questionable her behavior would be: bitches better got out of her way. She was the glamorous version of a Shakespearean villain, I found myself thinking, and somehow her allure was not diminished but maybe even enhanced by the menacing, ruthless attitude of her.

Following my line of reasoning, I was quite surprised that she spared me, or at least gave me a second chance. By now I could have been already fired and sulking in my misery: she just had to say the word to her hubby and the King of Hollywood would have me kicked out of set before I knew it. Yet, I was still there: she didn’t say it. I spent so much time in my head trying to figure out why: did she decide I was too weak of a threat? Had she another plan brewing, like slandering me once the shootings were wrapped or throwing me under a bus at the next most convenient occasion? Or did she have of a little conscience?

I consumed my head going through all the possible scenarios until I realized the golden truth about Evelyn: she would always keep you on your toes, ever guessing, ever not knowing what she might say or do next. As intoxicating as it was, it was also draining.

So, I came up with a plan. Better, an offer I doubted she would turn down. If give and take is the currency Evelyn values most, that’s what I will serve her, I thought, parking my car.

The morning was particularly busy so I patiently waited for the time I could approach Evelyn. The occasion came when we broke for lunch and I spotted Joy and Ruby heading out together muttering something about turkey salads. Without thinking twice, I went looking for Evelyn. I found her lazily walking towards the craft services and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was pissed at Ruby for ditching her but if she was, she didn’t show at all. I made eye contact with her as I sauntered her way until eventually she noticed me. I stopped by her side and whispered in my best conspiratorial voice the line I had rehearsed in my head the whole time.

“There’s no chance you’d want to cut out and grab a milk shake, is there?”.

She was certainly taken by surprise by my odd proposal and I am pretty sure she searched my face for any sign of red flag. Finding none or too intrigued to turn down the opportunity to find out what was going on, she said yes.

“Meet you in the parking lot in five. Which one is your car?”.

I told her and rushed to my trailer to change back into my clothes as fast as I could. When I got back to my car, Evelyn was leaning over it, smoking a cigarette. I had to summon every ounce of restrain in me not to let it go to my head that Evelyn Hugo agreed to spend time with me, the Evelyn Hugo who was a vision in her yellow striped dress, leaning over my car. When she spotted me, she looked at me behind her dark glasses for a moment before parting her lips to speak.

“Ah, there you are. Let’s get going?”.

Ten minutes later, we were making our way to Hollywood Boulevard. I was so nervous because my intentions, although not hostile, weren’t entirely unselfish: I didn’t say her all about my plan and I started wondering if she had figured it out already. I knew Evelyn was way better than me at this game, playing people to get what she wanted. I was not and it was totally new to me but I had come to the conclusion that to survive in a pool of sharks like Hollywood you couldn’t play fair all the time. So I found myself thinking: what Evelyn would do? And I concocted this plan, full knowing that I would never be able to pull it off like her, but I had to try and hope for the best.

“I’m thinking Schwab’s” I said with pretended nonchalance when I stopped “at the light at Sunset Boulevard and Cahuenga.

Schwab’s was one of the hotspots in town I used to see mentioned on magazines so if I wanted paparazzi, that was the place to go.

It was both naïve and foolish of me to think Evelyn wouldn’t know too.

She kept quiet for a moment that seemed like an eternity to me, nervous as hell at the wheel.

“What kind of game are you playing?”.

I cursed myself: it took her one word to bust me. How could I even think I could play the game with her?

“I’m not playing any game” I lied, pretended to be slightly insulted.

Of course, I fully knew my pathetic retort would fool Evelyn for a split second.

“Oh Celia” she started, dismissing my nonsense with a wave of her hand. “I’ve been at this a few more years than you. You’re the one who just fell off the turnip truck. Don’t confuse us.”

The light turned green and I gunned it. Now I was slightly insulted: I don’t know if she said so only to hurt me or if that was how she truly thought of me, but the portrait she drew of me was far from reality and a little insulting.

“I’m from Georgia. Just outside of Savannah”.

“So?”

“I’m just saying, I didn’t fall off a turnip truck. I was scouted by a guy from Paramount back home”.

Did she know? Or Captain Hollywood and her dear Harry conveniently forgot to tell her? Maybe she didn’t suspect it because it took her a moment to formulate a proper retort.

“That may be so,” she said. “But I still know what game you’re running, honey. Nobody goes to Schwab’s for the milk shakes.”

I sighed, taking a turn. There was no way I could beat Evelyn at her own game and it had been so stupid to think I could. So, I decided to drop the act, hoping for the best. Truth is always the best choice, isn’t that what they teach us as kids?

“Listen,” I said. “I could use a story or two. If I’m going to star in my own movie soon, I need some name recognition”.

“And this milk shake business is all just a ruse to be seen with me?”.

She sounded insulted and I found it somehow hilarious: Evelyn played everyone but hated getting a taste of her medicine? Of course, my conscience came biting me.

“No, not at all” I shook my head. “I wanted to go get a milk shake with you. And then, when we pulled out of the lot, I thought, We should go to Schwab’s”.

It was the mere truth: despite every and the low blow she tried to pull behind my back, I seriously wanted to be around her and get a goddamn milk shake with her. I just had other orders of business too.

Evelyn went quiet after that, surely pondering her next move.

I had just stopped at a light at Sunset and Highland when she spoke again.

“Take a right”.

“What?”

“Take a right”.

“Why?” I asked, confused: Schwab’s was the other way.

“Celia, take the goddamn right before I open this car door and throw myself out of it”.

I turned towards her not sure of what to say: she certainly had a flair for drama!

When the light turned green, I did as she said and turned right on Highland.

“Take a left at the light”.

I went quiet and put on the blinker just as she said, and let her instruct me back towards Hollywood Boulevard and a side road. I knew what she was doing: she was putting me in my place. I was the new girl in need of exposure and she was the star: I couldn’t make the rules. Evelyn would never give me or anyone else something, unless she wanted to and she wouldn’t be played like a violin: that was her game and hers only.

I parked my Chevy and we walked to CC Brown’s.

“They have better ice cream” she said, stepping in.

I nodded, a weak smile on my lips: it stung. We took a seat and the guy behind the counter came up to us, momentarily speechless. That was the effect Evelyn Hugo had on everyone, I thought.

“Uh . . .” he said. “Do you want menus?”

She shook her head.

“I know what I want. Celia?”.

I ordered a chocolate malt and Evelyn a strawberry one. I think the guy almost had a heart attack when he recognized her.

“Are you…Evelyn Hugo?”.

“No” she lied to his face, teasing.

He scattered away as if his house was on fire.

“Cheer up, buttercup” she said as he disappeared in the back. “You’re getting a better milk shake out of the deal.”

I was staring down at the glossy counter, feeling a pang of shame. This wasn’t like me and it didn’t sit well with me eventually.

“I upset you” I sighed, looking back at her. “With the Schwab’s thing. I’m sorry.”

Evelyn took off her dark glasses and gave me an unreadable look: I couldn’t tell if she was annoyed by me, understandably pissed at me or if she pitied me. Or all the above.

“Celia, if you’re going to be as big as you clearly want to be, you need to learn two things”.

“And what are they?”.

She sat more comfortably in her stool and took a deep breath before enlightening me.

“First, you have to push people’s boundaries and not feel bad about it. No one is going to give you anything if you don’t ask for it. You tried. You were told no. Get over it”.

A bit brutal but honest, I thought.

“And the second thing?” I asked.

“When you use people, be good at it”.

“I wasn’t trying to use you—”.

Evelyn raised an eyebrow at me: yes, that was pathetic of me…

“Yes, Celia, you were. And I’m fine with that. I wouldn’t have a moment’s hesitation in using you. And I wouldn’t expect you to have a second thought about using me. Do you know the difference between the two of us?”.

I barely refrained myself to laugh at her question.

“There are a lot of differences between the two of us.”

“Do you know the one in particular I’m talking about?” she asked, rolling her eyes at me.

“What is it?”.

“That I know I use people. I’m fine with the idea of using people. And all of that energy that you spend trying to convince yourself that you’re not using people I spend getting better at it”.

She said it with a swagger that this time I was the one raising an eyebrow at her.

“And you’re proud of that?”.

“I’m proud of where it’s gotten me” she confirmed, looking at me straight in the eye.

I observed her for a moment, searching her face. Then I dropped the question on the tip of my tongue.

“Are you using me? Now?”.

“If I was, you’d never know”.

“That’s why I’m asking.”

The guy behind the counter came back with our milk shakes. Evelyn waited for him to go to speak again.

“No”.

“No what?”

“No, I’m not using you.”

I took a relieved sigh.

“Well, that’s a relief!”

“Do you know why I’m not using you?” she continued.

I took a sip of my shake: I knew she was about to jump straight to my jugular as soon as such question left her perfectly shaped mouth.

“This should be good”.

She looked at me, her chin up in a display of how superior she felt to me.

“The reason I’m not using you is that you have nothing to offer me. Not yet, at least”.

It was harsh and it stung, even if I knew she wasn’t fully right in her analysis. I took another sip of my shake and she mirrored me after a moment, taking a sip of her.

I kept quiet and pondered well my retort. It was my turn to attack now.

“I don’t think that’s true” I said, eventually. “I’ll give you that you’re more famous than me. Being married to Captain Hollywood can have that effect on a person. But other than that, we’re at the same place, Evelyn. You’ve turned in a couple of good performances. So have I. And now we’re in a movie together, which both of us took on because we want an Academy Award”.

I took a dramatic calculated pause before dropping the truth Evelyn didn’t mention.

“And let’s be honest, I have a leg up on you in that regard.”

She pretended not to care at first.

“And why is that?”

“Because I’m a better actress.”

That’s when I knew I had struck a nerve. Evelyn stopped sipping her shake through the straw and turned toward me as if I had caught her red-herred in a crime.

“How do you figure that?”.

She tried to sound unaffected but I could hear the slight shift in her voice.

“It’s not something we can measure, I suppose” I shrugged. “But it’s true. I’ve seen One More Day. You’re really good. But I’m better. And you know I’m better.”

I took another dramatic pause, playing with the straw in my glass.

“That’s why you and Don almost had me kicked off the project”.

“No, we didn’t”.

She lied to my face, but I think she knew that it was in vein.

“Yes, you did. Ruby told me.”

“Oh, fine. So you’re a better actress than me. And sure, maybe Don and I discussed getting you fired. So what? Big deal.”

I could tell such resented confession costed her much and I basked in my victory. Evelyn was finally coming my way, with a bit of hope.

“Well, that’s just my point exactly. I’m more talented than you, and you’re more powerful than me.”

“So?”.

It’s now or never, I thought. Time to drop my offer and hope for the best.

“So you’re right, I’m not very good at using people. So I’m trying this a different way. Let’s help each other out.”

This time she took her time to speak again. She sipped her milk shake: she was considering my words, and that was a beginning.

“How so?” she asked at last.

I smiled to myself, hopeful: she sounded intrigued by a proposal she certainly didn’t see coming.

“After hours, I’ll help you with your scenes. I’ll teach you what I know”.

“And I go with you to Schwab’s?”.

She started grasping the plan.

“You help me do what you’ve done. Become a star” I explained.

“But then what?” she said, furrowing her brows. “We both end up famous and talented? Competing for every job in town?”

I should have expected that kind of objection from her: it was the only logic that Evelyn had ever known, the golden rule of her ominous world.

“I suppose that is one option” I shrugged.

I knew that my words would made her curious about the alternative she had never once taken into consideration or so I thought. I felt sorry for her: what a life she had had too…

“And the other?” she asked.

I looked at her for a long moment, suddenly nervous, heart racing again in my chest as we lingered in each other’s eye. It’s embarrassing to admit what a hold she has always had on me since the very beginning. But back then, in that milk shake parlor I wasn’t sure if what I wanted to say was too much, too bold for her to take, if I should have gone for something more neutral…if she could have believed me or just thought I was messing with her.

Eventually, against any better judgment, I decided to lay my cards on the table. What I could share, at least.

“I really like you, Evelyn.”

I wasn’t surprised when she looked at me sideways. I laughed, amused of her obstinate defensiveness. My heart was hammering in my chest but words flew like a river: they had always been there.

“I know that’s probably not something most actresses mean in this town, but I don’t want to be like most actresses. I really like you. I like watching you on-screen. I like how the moment you show up in a scene, I can’t look at anything else. I like the way your skin is too dark for your blond hair, the way the two shouldn’t go together and yet seem so natural on you. And to be honest, I like how calculating and awful you kind of are.”

“I am not awful!” she protested, slightly insulted.

“Oh, you definitely are” I laughed. “Getting me fired because you think I’ll show you up? Awful. That’s just “awful, Evelyn. And walking around bragging about how you use people? Just terrible. But I really like it when you talk about it. I like how honest you are, how unashamed. So many women around here are full of crap with everything they say and do. I like that you’re full of crap only when it gets you something”.

“This laundry list of compliments seems to have a lot of insults in it” she said, raising an eyebrow at me, annoyed.

I nodded and smiled at her. A genuine smile to show her I mean -and ever meant - harm to her.

“You know what you want, and you go after it. I don’t think there is anyone in this town doubting that Evelyn Hugo is going to be the biggest star in Hollywood one of these days. And that’s not just because you’re something to look at. It’s because you decided you wanted to be huge, and now you’re going to be. I want to be friends with a woman like that. That’s what I’m saying. Real friends. None of this Ruby Reilly, backstabbing, talking-about-each-other-behind-our-backs crap. Friendship. Where each of us gets better, lives better, because we know the other”.

She pondered my words and I wanted so badly to lay my hand over hers but I refrained.

“Do we have to do each other’s hair and stuff like that?”.

Her idea of what a true friendship would imply amused me. A smile lingered on my lips as I answered.

“Sunset pays people to do that. So no”.

“Do I have to listen to your man troubles?”.

I refrained from bursting into laughter. Oh, Evelyn…

“Certainly not”.

“So what, then? We choose to spend time together and try to be there for each other?”

It was almost painful to see how lost in the plot she looked speaking of friendship. In that moment I found all the confirmation I needed for something I had been suspecting for a while: Evelyn had no friends. No true one, at least. My guess wasn’t entirely correct but not too far from truth either.

“Evelyn, have you never had a friend before?”

“Of course I’ve had friends before” she scoffed, defensive.

“A real one, a close friend? A true friend?” I insisted.

I supposed I didn’t have many true friends either back than but I wager I had certainly a bunch more than Evelyn. And there was Shirley, dear sweet Shirley, back in Georgia. She was the first to believe that I could make it big in Hollywood, even before my scout. She was the one encouraging me to leave for good and start anew miles away from our boring provincial town. Just don’t forget me if you can, she said in a low voice, barely a whisper, her words meant only for me to hear, as I pulled her into our last embrace. You’ll write to me, won’t you?

I didn’t forget her even if we no longer talk as much as once did. I sent her a postcard from Hollywood when I settle down here.

“I have a true friend, thank you very much”.

Evelyn sounded almost resented but also strangely vulnerable now. Of course, her words intrigued me. I had my theories on who they might be but I wanted confirmation.

“Who is it?”

When she said the name of Harry Cameron I was hardly surprised: those two got along infamously well. Was Don jealous of the dashing exec, I wondered? However Captain Hollywood felt about him, I was genuinely glad to know Evelyn saw him as her - probably only - friend.

“Harry Cameron is your friend?”.

“He’s my best friend”.

I smiled at her and offered her a hand to shake.

“Well, fine, I will be your second-best friend, next to Harry Cameron”.

Not exactly what I was hoping for but a title I could live with. And Evelyn sounded in desperate need of a friend in the pool of sharks that was her, our world. So did I, to be frank.

Evelyn looked at me for a moment before breaking in a quick smile. She took my hand and shook it firmly.

“Fine. Tomorrow I’ll take you to Schwab’s. And afterward, we can rehearse together”.

“Thank you” I said, smiling brightly.

As if to seal our deal, I leaned forward and hugged her. She smelled of vanilla and spices I could detect, and her skin was as smooth as silk. She tensed up at first but then she relaxed a little and put her arms around my waist. I could have stayed like that the whole but I knew we couldn’t.

When we broke away, the guy behind the counter was staring at us. Had he never seen two friends hugging? I wondered. Evelyn relieved him of his daze, asking for the check.

“It’s on the house,” he said, with an awkward shy smile that was probably supposed to be charming.

As we flashed him a thankful smile and got up to leave, he spoke again.

“Will you tell your husband I loved The Gun at Point Dume?”.

“What husband?”she asked as coyly as possible, looking at him over her dark glasses.

I laughed, and she flashed me a grin that sent a shiver down my spine. Then, she put her glasses on and headed towards the exit by side.

I smiled to myself on our way back to the studio.

It’s the two of us against the world now, I thought.

#the seven husbands of evelyn hugo #tshoeh #tshoeh fanfics #celia st james #evelyn hugo #celia x evelyn #wlw books #wlw love

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rose-from-ashes · 10 months

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Little psa since it has come up a couple times lately with people nervous that I might think they're only here for smut or that they might be coming off as too enthusiastic:

I actually don't mind if people primarily want to write smut with me! And I do have a couple of mutuals I almost exclusively write smut with! On discord, of course. It actually doesn't matter to me. That said, I must clarify- I don't mind if someone is primarily here to smut with me, but I do mind if they invalidate or ignore the agency and personhood of the characters I write, and I can tell the difference.

The mutuals I have that I primarily write smut with are still respectful to my characters. They incorporate and acknowledge emotional and personality aspects of my muses and engage in ship dynamics that make sense. They don't act entitled to my muses, and they don't objectify them. I can tell the difference between someone who wants to smut because they find a character attractive in their entirety or because it's a fun way to explore character dynamics like any other writing, and someone who wants to smut because they objectify a muse's body or feel entitled to a ship or want to fill a quota or have a power fantasy they exercise through writing. I don't want my muses to just be a fetish. I want to engage in unique and fulfilling interactions with people I trust to be respectful and thoughtful.

So! If I smut with you, or write a character being flirty with your character, take it as a compliment! It means I trust you to value my characters as people rather than bodies. At that point, you can suggest smut plots all you like, because I already have come to understand that you are here for actual character interactions, whether in the form of smut or something else. If something starts to poke my brain wrong and make me feel bad, I'll tell you, but in all likelyhood I am already comfortable with you and happy to talk about our characters fucking nasty on every surface, because I can tell that you respect me as a writer and respect my muses as characters. Let the smut commence!

#that said I can be pretty slow with smut NDSJSHDBS i have to be in a certain mood to write it #being ace and all #suggestive #ooc #rebloggable

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 3 years

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Someone Else (I'm Still Right Here)

also on ao3

minor warning for Geralt coming on to Jask when he doesn't know who he is, but nothing comes from it.

They've hardly been in town long enough for anything to go wrong and yet, Jaskier finds his thoughts interrupted by banging on the door of their room. If it was Geralt, he would simply let himself in even if he didn't have his hands free to open the door properly, so it must be important. Jaskier rises from the bed, setting his lute aside with a sigh. He detests being interrupted while he's working for anything less than an emergency - and judging by the fact that the knock hasn't come again, this is hardly an emergency.

He saunters to the door, pulling it open to find the face of the innkeeper's wife staring back at him anxiously.

"Sorry to interrupt," she says, "it's your Witcher, sir. Something's happened and no one is... well, they're all afraid to get too close to him. They called in the healer from the next town, but-"

Jaskier frowns. The contract was for a pair of drowners, not even a nest of the damn things. Geralt could have taken them out in his sleep - so what went so terribly wrong?

Jaskier lets himself be led downstairs, doing his best to mask worry with intrigue, but it isn't working. The innkeeper's wife leads him to the edge of the forest where her husband is waiting, a look of pained concern on his face. Jaskier's stomach drops as the man just points into the trees, and he hurries forward without delay. If the people in town won't help Geralt, he will certainly do his best.

When he finds him, Geralt is in a bad state. His eyes are still dark from the potions - probably why the locals wouldn't come near - and there's blood streaked down the side of his face.

Jaskier stays quiet. It's bad enough that Geralt can hear his pulse racing, he doesn't need to make his fear any more obvious to him. He kneels down on the soft ground, assessing the damage before moving him. He's learned from experience that one wrong move can make a wound worse rather than better.

"Okay," he says once he's satisfied. "I'm just gonna pull this off," he taps on Geralt's left pauldron, "make sure your head is the only thing you banged up." Jaskier frowns as he says it, but Geralt seems, as usual, unconcerned. He's much better behaved than usual though, which strikes Jaskier as being particularly odd.

He ignores it and pushes through, tearing an already ripped piece of Geralt's shirt to wipe away some of the blood. Geralt will be grouchy about it later, but if Jaskier replaces it, he can't be too angry. He does his best to clean Geralt's skin and he finds just the one injury - a hefty blow to the head. Not that it seems to be bothering Geralt any.

But when Jaskier cups his jaw, tipping his head to one side, Geralt hums. It catches him off guard and Jaskier jerks back to look at him.

"Your hands feel nice," Geralt breathes and leans into the touch. Okay. So maybe the head injury is more serious than it appears. The innkeeper's wife said a healer was coming, Jaskier will mention it to them when they arrive. Or maybe it's just the blood loss. Either way, the healer will be better prepared to deal with it than he is.

"What are you doing here?" Geralt asks.

"The innkeeper's wife came to collect me. Figured someone ought to come and collect you."

"No one else would even get near me."

"Yes, well, I'm not everyone else, am I?"

"Hmm. Guess not."

Jaskier comes around to look at him, straddling his thighs and Geralt leans forward, resting his head on his shoulder and nuzzling into his neck.

"Yes yes," Jaskier hums, "I know you're tired, darling, but we have to get you up and back to town."

Geralt is reluctant, but he lets himself be hauled to his feet and doesn't even complain about Jaskier propping him up as they make their way back toward town. He's quiet, which is to be expected, but Jaskier is worried that he's keeping something from him, that he's worse off than he seems because Geralt seems quite happy to let himself be assisted - something he would regularly fight against.

As they make it back to the inn, Jaskier knows everyone is watching them and he scolds a couple of them for not offering to help when a man was injured. He takes Geralt up to their room and ducks out from under his arm, leaving him alone for a moment so he can get the fire lit and ready the bed for him. But before he can do either, he finds himself pressed up against the room door with Geralt's face mere inches from his own.

The dark veins and darker eyes are… sexier than they have any right to be and Jaskier swallows back a groan, pressing a gentle hand to Geralt's chest. The Witcher is still woozy and unsteady on his feet, but he resists being pressed back and Jaskier frowns at him.

"Mm, as much fun as this is, I doubt you'll think so highly of me in the morning, darling." Geralt smiles slyly and, for a split second, Jaskier worries that he's become Geralt's quarry, that the toxins running through Geralt's body are really as bad as he always claims they are and that he is, in fact, in real danger around him. But then Geralt leans in, bumping his nose against Jaskier's and any thoughts of fear dissipate immediately.

Instead, Jaskier ducks down and away, holding both arms out as Geralt follows him.

"Geralt," he asks, "what's gotten into you? Not that I mind, but-" he eyes him carefully and Geralt just grins at him again.

"Don't be coy with me, bard, this is what you brought me here for."

"Um. No? I brought you here to rest, to put you to bed not take you to bed, and find you something to eat. This is our room, Geralt, not my room. They only had one left and I didn't think you'd mind-"

"Our room?" Geralt interrupts and Jaskier nods. Worry creeps in and he looks closely at Geralt. His eyes are black still, though the veins are retreating and he seems brighter than usual, not so gloomy.

"Yes?"

"Why would we be sharing a room," Geralt huffs, "I've only just met you."

Jaskier gawks at him. It's not like Geralt to play games, that's Lambert's area of expertise - and this is stupid and obvious even for Lambert's tastes. But something is off about Geralt tonight. The worry turns to fear and Jaskier suddenly wonders if the man he's brought back is his Witcher at all.

He's never met a doppler, but he's heard Geralt tell stories about them. For the most part, they're harmless, but Jaskier suspects they can be paid or bribed like anyone else and the thought of a stranger here in the room with his things, with Geralt's things-

"I thought you wanted sex," maybe-Gealt says again, slightly confused but not at all dissuaded. Normally Jaskier would take it as a compliment that he was still so enthusiastic about fucking him, but this feels very, very wrong. And yet a part of him still considers it.

If it is a doppler, there's no harm really. He's consenting and Jaskier is more than happy to fuck a man with Geralt's face (he doesn't think too much about how that will affect him after it's fine). Right? But there's still a nagging feeling that this isn't a doppler. He'd know, he thinks, if he brought someone else home with him.

"Can you just-" he says, backing up toward the bed where his bag is sitting on the floor. Maybe-Geralt just watches him with confusion as he crouches down and pulls his dagger from his pack.

It's just a little thing, but it's pure silver, gifted to him by Geralt in case of emergency.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Jaskier says, holding it out, "I just need you to touch this."

Maybe-Geralt gives him a questioning look but reaches out and takes the dagger from him, turning it over in his hand. Nothing happens.

"Hmm," he says, "nice weight, well made. A little decorative maybe-"

"Doesn't hurt?" Jaskier asks and maybe-Geralt, who is seeming more and more like just Geralt laughs.

"Not unless you stab someone with it."

Jaskier valiantly ignores the little smirk and shuts his eyes.

"Okay," he says, "start at the beginning, what do you remember?"

"I… woke up in the forest and then you showed up," he smiles at him and Jaskier is already preparing a refusal.

"Listen, Geralt, I am your friend and you would probably even argue that-"

"How come? You're very handsome and you've been helpful and kind-"

"But it's not like that, Geralt. It never has been. I offered once and you were… less than impressed with me." Geralt says nothing and Jaskier takes the opportunity to reign the conversation in. "Can I clean you up now? Something is obviously wrong and we have to get you to a doctor."

"They said a healer was coming."

"I was thinking of someone a little more professional," Jaskier says and Geralt gives him a look. "We have a mutual friend who may be able to help. But for now, you've got me and I'd like to take a look at that wound."

Geralt relents and Jaskier finally succeeds in getting him sat on the bed without Geralt trying to come on to him again. He pulls Geralt's hair back and ties it out of his face, it'll need to be washed later, but he's not going to try and explain how it's fine for him to wash his hair but not fuck him right now.

The wound itself it's so bad, a bit swollen, a bit bruised, but the actual gash is small and very manageable. He cleans it first with water and then with vodka and applies a good amount of salve. He doesn't know which herbs Geralt combines for a poultice, so he bypasses that for the time being; when he gets him to Shani if the wound isn't healed on its own, she'll be able to tend to it.

He finds linen wrap at the bottom of his bag and presses it to Geralt's forehead, gently wrapping it around and tying it at his temple.

"Should be good for now. I'll go down and have supper brought up. Do you want a bath?"

"No. Thank you."

"Alright. Just… stay here, I'll be back."

As soon as the bedroom door is shut, Jaskier closes his eyes, but he waits until he reaches the main floor to lean against the wall and sigh. He has no idea what he's going to do. He never thought he'd be sad to see the day Geralt tried to get him into bed, but it feels so wrong. He'd rather spend the rest of his life failing to impress Geralt than spend another five minutes with him like this.

He takes his time ordering food, half-hoping that Geralt will be asleep by the time he gets back to the room, but their supper is ready quickly and Jaskier reluctantly takes it back up to their room, setting the tray on the table beside the bed.

Geralt at least spares him conversation while they eat and then Jaskier sets the dishes aside and strips out of his clothes for bed, already dreading having to share a bed. He keeps his shorts on and waits until Geralt is already in bed before climbing in after him.

The fire is burning low already, so he's not worried about it, but he blows out the candle beside the bed and pulls the blankets up over himself. He faces out into the room, preferring not to see Geralt right now. It feels weird to want to avoid him and it makes his chest ache because this is Geralt, but it's not. He just wants his Geralt back.

He shuts his eyes and tries to sleep but Geralt is cuddly like this, shifting closer and pressing up against him. He gets an arm around Jaskier's waist and Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut. It's everything he thinks about during the long nights sleeping around a campfire, but he can't let himself give into it. But it feels good because it's Geralt's arm around him, Geralt's chest pressed to his back, Geralt's breath against his neck. He very nearly whines because it's so damn unfair.

But then Geralt's lips press against the back of his neck and a little gasp escapes his lips, unintentionally. He ignores it the first time, but then he does it again and when he shifts closer, Jaskier can feel the length of his cock pressing against his ass. And fuck, that's hard to turn down, but Jaskier wrenches himself out of Geralt's arms.

"I can't," he whispers, unconvincing even to himself.

"You want it, though," Geralt hums, "I can smell it on you."

"Maybe," Jaskier confesses, "but not like this. Not when you don't know who I am. Not when fucking any other person in this place would be the same for you. I can't, Geralt. Go to sleep."

Jaskier hates how disappointed Geralt sounds when he pulls away, but he doesn't try again and Jaskier almost finds himself wishing he would. He tugs the blanket a little tighter around himself and pulls his knees to his chest, trying to force back the fear that he might not get his Geralt back.

In the morning, Geralt wakes first and Jaskier is relieved to find himself alone in bed, although he worries about where Geralt has gotten to. But when he drags himself out of bed, he finds Geralt packed and ready to go with a hearty breakfast waiting for him.

"What's all this?" Jaskier asks, "trying to get away from me all of a sudden?" It comes out more bitter than he intends and he winces at the tone of his own voice.

"You were so sad, last night," Geralt says quietly. "I don't know how to fix this, how to remember you, but I thought you'd want to get started early. I had breakfast brought up." He offers a soft smile, gesturing to the food and Jaskier's heart flip-flops.

"Oh. Thank you."

"I've eaten. Take your time and we can leave when you're finished."

"Right."

Geralt just sits on the bed while Jaskier eats his breakfast and contemplates the fact that this is still his Geralt, as much as it doesn't seem like it. His own things are still ready to go and he has no idea who to go to to collect the reward for the drowners, but it couldn't have been much anyway, so he's not worried about it. Geralt won't be pleased about it when he remembers himself, but there's only so much Jaskier knows how to handle and he wants to get Geralt to Shani as quickly as possible.

They head out mid-morning, and Geralt insists on letting Jaskier ride, which is… nice, in a concerning way. Roach is equally confused and concerned, but Jaskier does his best to comfort her. Thankfully, they aren't far from Oxenfurt or Jaskier isn't sure how he would cope.

Geralt walks alongside him, happy enough apparently to let Jaskier ride. He hums as they travel, a low wonderful sound that had Jaskier's heart fluttering, but it tears him in two because the song is his which means Geralt does remember something, but he's also so sad to see him this calm and relaxed knowing his goal is to take that away from him.

For now, he won't say anything, will just let Geralt enjoy the journey. When and if they find a way to get his memory back, he'll explain everything and give Geralt the chance to decline if he wishes. The selfish part of him hopes he doesn't.

They carry on in much the same way, but even when Geralt talks, Jaskier struggles to find it in himself to be too enthusiastic about anything. He's already in a difficult spot and he just wants to get through this, whatever the outcome. But it's obvious Geralt notices and that he's trying to distract him from it.

Jaskier tries to cheer up a little, if only for him, but he finds it difficult because he knows Geralt can tell how he's really feeling. But Jaskier appreciates the effort, either way.

"Remind me where we're going?" Geralt asks and Jaskier realizes he hasn't told him, Geralt just trusted him not to be leading him towards certain death.

"To Oxenfurt," he says, trying to sound cheerful, "it's one of my favourite places on the continent. I have a friend who practices medicine, she should be able to help."

"You don't have to pretend for me. I know you're sad, I know you miss him. Me. I wish I could give you your friend back."

Jaskier's heart clenches and he takes a steadying breath. "I'm fine," he says, "and I can't miss him, he's you and you're right here." He feels odd, like he's talking to a child, but Geralt just smiles at him, softly but like he doesn't believe him. Jaskier wouldn't either, he's never been good at lying to Geralt.

There's a heavy silence that falls after that and for some time they continue forward unspeaking. Jaskier twitches to feel the silence, to sing or talk to something just to keep from thinking that Geralt is upset with him. Then, abruptly, Geralt speaks.

"What kind of man am I?" Jaskier doesn't even have to think to answer that.

"You're kind," he says, "more than anyone gives you credit for. You always try to take the less violent route, even though your job is to kill monsters. You're generous and loving and you care so deeply for your friends and family."

He pauses for a moment, swallowing a lump in his throat. Because he's not included in that group. He knows Geralt must care for him, but not in the way he loves Eskel or Lambert, or even in the way his friendship with Shani or Zoltan comes so easily to him. Next to him, Geralt is silent for a moment and then.

"Jaskier are you-" Jaskier shuts his eyes, dreading whatever is coming next. "Do you love me?"

"Of course I do," he says, forcing cheeriness into his voice, "You're my best friend."

"But it's more than that, isn't it?"

"Geralt-"

"I know I don't really know you, but I… think I love you, too."

"Geralt, don't say that," Jaskier shuts his eyes tightly, "you can't know that."

"I feel it."

Jaskier wants to scream. It's so unfair to hear those words from Geralt's mouth and know they’re not true. He pushes Roach a little quicker forward, but Geralt stops him.

Roach comes to a full stop and Jaskier grows frowns at Geralt as he comes to stand next to him. Geralt raised a hand up, cupping his jaw and guiding him downward.

"I feel like you won't hear it from me again, so I love you." He's soft, almost breathless, and when he stretches up to kiss him, Jaskier doesn't stop him.

It's just soft, no urgency, no want for something more than just a kiss and Jaskier can't help but lean into it just a little. Because those are Geralt's hands on him, Geralt's mouth against his own, soft and slow.

But Geralt moans softly against him and Jaskier remembers himself with a start. He pulls back from the Witcher, almost unseating himself, but Geralt steadies him.

"I'm sorry," he breathes, "I can't, it's not fair-"

"To me?" Geralt asks and there's sadness behind the humour in his voice.

"Yes."

After that, they spend the rest of the day in silence and Jaskier feels bad for Geralt - he can't imagine losing his memory and not knowing who he is - but he can't stand the fruitless hope. Because Geralt doesn't love him, he's made it known that they're not friends and how could Jaskier hope for more when he can't even attain friendship?

Then again, the man walking next to him now still is Geralt. He doesn't feel like Geralt and he doesn't act like Geralt, but he is. Jaskier isn't sure how people usually react when they lose their memories, so he doesn't have a basis to judge by, but it is still Geralt.

When they stop for the night, Geralt sleeps close enough to keep him warm but doesn't cuddle up like he did the night before and Jaskier hates himself for it. Maybe Geralt has a chance here at a new life, one where he can be happy and not weighed down by the memory of his childhood. And if he does, if he wants it, who is Jaskier to deny him that?

He's not sure he could be a part of it, though. Even thinking about him now, wishing Geralt would come a little closer, curl an arm around his middle, he feels like he's betraying his friend, betraying the old Geralt as the case may be.

Either way, he'll get Geralt to Oxenfurt so they can speak to Shani and see if there's anything that can be done. If there's not, he doesn't have to worry about making the decision to leave or stay, but if there is- If there is a chance Geralt can regain his memories, Jaskier has to let him make that choice alone and then make his own depending on what Geralt wants.

They reach Oxenfurt a few days later after what feels like a month-long journey and Jaskier is just glad to be somewhere warm where he can have his own room and not have to worry about wanting to be close. He leads them immediately to the inn and rents two separate rooms. It's fairly costly and he's reminded of the reason they needed to take the last contract, but he could be in Oxenfurt for a while depending on how this goes and he'll be able to pick up work easily enough.

Jaskier heads up to his room and makes sure Geralt gets settled, then he heads down and orders food and a bath up to Geralt's room before heading out to find Shani.

The first place he looks is the hospital, but the nurse working informs him that Shani has her own clinic now and she's located near the centre of town. Jaskier thanks her and doubles back, following the directions she'd given. Shani's clinic is tucked between two other buildings and Jaskier knocks before entering. There's no one inside but it's only a moment before Shani emerges from a back room, the neutral look on her face quickly growing into a smile. When Jaskier doesn't return the gesture she frowns.

"I take it this isn't a personal visit," she says and Jaskier can feel something inside him slip. He shakes his head.

"No, I'm sorry. I- we need your help."

"Geralt?" she asks and the last bit of his self-control gives way and he chokes on a sob. "Hey," she says, "come sit down."

Shani guides him to a back room and sits him down on a plush soft, surprisingly nice for a medical clinic. She shuts and locks the door behind them and sits next to him.

"What's wrong?"

"It's Geralt," he chokes, "hes'-" he takes a deep breath, swallowing back another sob. "Shani, he doesn't know who he is. He doesn't know who I am."

"Oh. What happened?"

"I wasn't there. I just- they came to get me because no one else would get near him. It was just supposed to be a drowner contract but he got hit in the head or something. I don't know what to do."

"Where is he now?"

"Back at the inn."

"Here?" she asks. Jaskier nods. "Why don't you take me to him, I'll take a look."

"I- I don't know if he'll want to be fixed? He came with me but Shani, he seems happy."

"Why don't we go and see him first. We'll figure out what's wrong before worrying too much, hm?" Jaskier agrees and Shani packs a bag and they head for the inn.

They find Geralt in his room, having eaten and bathed and he looks good. He's got his hair down around his shoulders and he's shirtless and Jaskier has to avert his eyes. He takes a seat in the corner and lets Shani introduce herself and asks to look him over. Jaskier stays quiet and watches cautiously as Geralt easily lets Shani look him over. Once she's finished with his body, she examines his head.

"Well," she says at last, "you obviously took a pretty hefty blow to your head, but the good news is it should be simple to reverse the memory loss."

"Good," Geralt says quickly. He spares a glance for Jaskier before turning back to Shani. "What do we have to do?"

"It's simple really, just a shock to your system should do it. I have a friend who can help."

As Shani goes into the details, Jaskier tunes out. He hears something about neurons, but he's more concerned about getting Geralt alone for a couple of minutes before he makes a decision. He loves Geralt, wants nothing more than for him to be happy, so he wants him to go into this knowing everything Jaskier can tell him.

"Can we have a moment Shani?" he asks and Geralt looks at him as Shani nods and ducks out of the room.

"You want to do it?" Jaskier asks and Geralt nods.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You're happier like this," Jaskier whispers, "Geralt, I've never seen you this relaxed. In twenty years, you've always been miserable. I just- I want you to make an informed decision."

"You say you want me to be happy," Geralt says, "but since I told you I didn't know who you were you've been so sad. How is it fair for me to be happy like you say when you're still suffering." He tips Jaskier's chin up with two fingers and looks into his eyes. "What I said before, I wasn't lying. I don't know where all these feelings are coming from but I know you are so important to me."

He pulls up a smile and Jaskier knows how this is going to end. And he'll be happy to have his Geralt back, but know him like this? To know this Geralt wants him, even in some weird, imaginary way? He doesn't know how he'll be able to continue.

"Okay," Jaskier relents. "I just… wanted you to know what you were getting into."

"I'm sure it can't be all bad. I have you."

Jaskier's heart clenches, but he doesn't get another chance to speak because Shani enters the room. Thankfully, Geralt has stopped touching him, but he's still close and she gives Jaskier a look.

"I put out a call to my friend," she says, holding up a box that looks vaguely familiar. "Xenovox," she explains, "Marilla is a mage. She should be here in the morning."

It's late afternoon now, so that means spending another night at the inn and Jaskier is torn. On the one hand, he wants Geralt to be back to normal, but on the other- he's selfish and he wants Geralt like this. He wants so badly to have anything and- no. No, he can't.

Shani leaves them shortly after assuring Jaskier that it will be alright, that Geralt will be fine. He wishes these were better circumstances, that they had come to visit Shani instead of asking for her help, but she waves him off with a smile.

"Come and visit when things are back to normal," she says, "I'll see you in the morning."

Jaskier sees her off and then returns to the room to find Geralt sitting on the edge of the bed, contemplating. He's still shirtless and Jaskier finds it hard to look at him directly. He sits in the bed next to him, hands folded in his lap.

"Well," Geralt says, "we have the night. Things will be different after I get my memory back, right?" He turns, reaching out to cup Jaskier's cheek. "Be with me tonight," he breathes, "just for tonight, let me take care of you while I have the chance."

Jaskier huffs a humourless laugh. "That's the problem, you always have the chance, but you never want to take it."

"Then let me now," he hums and his hand falls to Jaskier's thigh.

And it's so tempting. Because Geralt is right here offering everything he's ever wanted, if only for a night. But this is not the Geralt he fell in love with. This is not truly his Geralt's consent. When Jaskier looks up, it's obvious that Geralt knows his answer before he even speaks.

"I'm an idiot," he says softly, "to not jump at the chance to be with you. If I don't remember tomorrow, I want you to know you're important to me." Jaskier nods weakly, but he can't find the words. "Maybe we should turn in early? We have a long day tomorrow, I think."

Jaskier nods and he lets Geralt pull him down to the bed and tonight, he lets himself be held, curls into Geralt's hold and presses his nose into his neck. He doesn't let himself think, just buries himself in Geralt's scent, so warm and familiar and shuts off his mind.

Jaskier awakes to a knock on the door and realizes he's still in his clothes from yesterday. Geralt answers the door to Shani and Marilla, and Jaskier is only just climbing out of bed when they come into the room. He gets a look from Shani, but if she's feeling any particular kind of way about finding him in Geralt's bed, she doesn't say anything.

The actual process doesn't take any time at all. Marilla comes in and does something to Geralt, what she does is unclear but he falls unconscious and Jaskier panics at first, but Shani holds him back.

"Sorry," she says, "I should have warned you."

Jaskier does his best to make Geralt comfortable in the bed and he leaves with the two women to let him sleep. He thanks Marilla desperately and asks her to stay until he wakes, but she tells him she has other business to attend to and after dipping down to kiss Shani briefly, she disappears down the stairs.

"Friend, huh?" Jaskier asks and Shani smiles at him.

"Don't try to change the subject."

"Actually, can I ask you about something?"

"Of course. Why don't we get a drink, he could be out for a couple of hours."

They head down to the common area and Shani orders them a pair of drinks while Jaskier finds a table out of the way. He's never understood why Geralt likes corner tables, but right now he gets it. He doesn't want anyone to talk to him and he just wants to be able to sit and drink with Shani.

When she returns, she slides his drink across to him and slips into her seat.

"What did you want to ask about?"

"Uh," Jaskier starts, turning his mug in his hands, "when I first took Geralt back to our room, just after he was hurt. He tried to kiss me. He… thought I was bringing him back there to fuck him."

"Oh."

"You don't sound surprised."

"I'm not, really. I'm surprised he acted on it, but-"

"What does that mean?"

"Geralt doesn't have any brain damage," Shani explains, "something just… got knocked loose, so to speak. He was still him, Jaskier. His thoughts, his feelings? That was all him, Jask."

"You're telling me-" abruptly, the memory of Geralt telling him he loved him comes back to him and his mouth goes dry. "You're telling me that was just him?"

"Mmhm. Without all the baggage and self-loathing."

"I don't- he can't- if he wanted me that way, I would know."

"Would you?" Shani asks, "because I think you would be the last person to know. Wait till he wakes up, talk to him."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks, Shani, for this and for everything."

"Happy to help."

They finish their drinks and Shani heads home. Jaskier thanks her again and promises to visit when things are better and waits until she's gone before heading back up to Geralt's room.

The first thing Geralt knows when he wakes up, is a pain in his head. He blinks awake to find himself in a bed in a nondescript inn. A better look around finds Jaskier asleep in a chair next to him, but he stirs as Geralt sits up and then he's scrambling to pass Geralt a mug of water.

He feels woozy, but Jaskier's presence soothes him; he knows from experience that Jaskier would never let anything happen to him and is willing to risk his own health and safety to assure it. There's no one else he'd rather see upon waking. But he doesn't remember falling asleep. The last thing he remembers is taking a hit and stumbling away from the scene.

"Geralt?" Jaskier asks gently. He looks up and the first thing he notices when he looks at Jaskier is how sad he is. The emotion wafts off of him, but Geralt doesn't need his heightened sense of smell to be able to tell.

"What's wrong?" he mumbles, his voice thick.

"Tell me what you remember. From the start."

Geralt thinks back, going through the events of the hunt, none of which are very interesting until he was thrown into a tree. Water hag, he remembers, chucked mud and blinded him. Then he's stumbling away, all three monsters dead and then- fuck.

His gaze snaps up to Jaskier's face, looking for any sign of recognition, but he remains eerily calm, even as Geralt recollects kissing him, pressing him up against a wall and- fuck, what was he thinking? The more he thinks about it, the more comes back to him, but in bits and pieces.

Kissing him, touching him, pressing up against him in bed. The memories are all foggy, scattered, but they feel too real to have been a dream. But Jaskier shows no signs of being assaulted by him.

"I'm-" he starts, but sorry doesn't feel like it's enough. Jaskier is open with his affections, but he wouldn't be okay with that.

Geralt tries to push himself up, to get out of bed and away from Jaskier because he can't stand the thought of doing something like that. He can't remember why he did, but the more he thinks about it, the more real it feels.

"Geralt," Jaskier says firmly, "I'm not mad. But I think we need to talk if you're up for it."

He doesn't want to talk to Jaskier. He would rather find out from someone else, he can't bear to hear the words from Jaskier. And he knows Shani was there. Shani and another woman who he didn't recognize.

"Where's Shani?" he asks.

"She's gone home, darling. Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?"

Geralt looks up at him and he feels hopeless. Jaskier is exhausted, he can see the bags under his eyes, the dark circles. And he doesn't seem any less sad than he did initially. It doesn't take much to realize what happened.

"I'm sorry," Geralt mumbles, "about what I did- when I kissed you, I-"

Jaskier stops, already halfway toward the door and sighs deeply, stopping in his tracks before turning around.

"Okay," he says, "we're talking about this now, then." He comes back and seats himself on the end of the bed, facing him. "Tell me exactly what you remember, Geralt."

"I remember taking the contract, fighting off the drowners - and a water hag - got mud in my eyes, stumbled and something hit me, threw me into a tree. Probably one of the drowners pushed me. I took them out, started back toward town but I must have passed out, the next thing I remember is-"

"Me."

"Yeah. You took me back to our room, I thought you were- I thought you wanted sex."

"I know, you were fairly adamant about that."

"Fuck. Jaskier I'm sorry-"

"You didn't know who I was. If a handsome stranger took me back to his room, I'd think the same. When you didn't know who I was I was… terrified. I didn't know if I'd get you back." They're both silent for a moment and then Jaskier prompts him to continue.

"I remember that. I remember talking to you," he lowers his eyes, "I told you I loved you, I don't know why." Immediately Jaskier's sadness intensifies and he catches it in the twitch of his lip, the way he glances away.

"You asked if I was in love with you," Jaskier explains, "and told me you loved me. What else do you remember?"

"I remember asking you to- suggesting we- I propositioned you. And I remember being in bed- Jaskier, did we-?" He can't imagine anything worse than sleeping with Jaskier while he's not himself, than having the chance to be with him and not truly being present in the moment.

Because he certainly won't have another chance, especially not now that he's gone and muddled things up.

"No," Jaskier confirms and for the first time a small smile tugs at his lips, "not that you didn't try. But It didn't feel right. I knew when you had your memories back, you'd hate me for it and I couldn't-"

"I could never hate you," Geralt interrupts, "if anything I'd hate myself for pushing you into it."

"No," Jaskier says, shaking his head, "Geralt you don't understand. I wanted to. I wanted so badly to just say yes last night when you asked me. I tried to work it around in some way that you wouldn't hate me for taking advantage, but every time I just feel terrible to even think about it. The reason I didn't sleep with you is because I couldn't bear the thought of fucking you when it wasn't really you. Because I didn't want him, even if he was you. I wanted- I want this you."

"You do," Geralt snorts, "someone who throws himself at his friend because he doesn't remember, someone who tells him he loves him unprompted-"

"Do you think," Jaskier suggests, and it's clear by the look on his face that he's considering his words very carefully. "That maybe what you said to me and what you did- what you offered," he corrects quickly, "was because you do have feelings for me?" His voice shakes just faintly and Geralt can smell the anxiousness coming off of him.

It's cloying, overwhelming and it mingles with the scent of sadness and fear and just the faintest hint of something hopeful.

"It's just that Shani said there was nothing wrong with your mind, it was still you in there when you asked, when you said that." Jaskier looks up at him and Geralt feels years of emotion welling up inside him and he doesn't know how to hold it back any longer, not what Jaskier is asking him outright.

"Jaskier, I-" he takes a deep breath, focuses on a mark on the blanket between them. "I don't remember everything. But I did mean what I said. I do… I love you," he whispers, "I didn't want you to think less of me or," he glances up and Jaskier's eyes are shiny like he's trying not to cry. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to find out like this."

"I'm not sad," Jaskier says, "Geralt, I have been following you around for half my life, caring for you, singing about you and you didn't think for maybe a moment that I could love you back?"

"You-" Geralt stumbles over his words as Jaskier's confession sinks in. "You sleep with everyone. Everyone but-"

"You don't even call me friend, Geralt. Why would I try and take you to bed with me thinking you don't care enough to call me your friend?"

"Oh."

"Oh? You didn't consider that?"

"You're not my friend," Geralt says, by way of explanation, "but you're not a lover, either. You're not a brother. Not a comrade. I don't know what you are."

"Oh."

"But you could be… a lover?" the word feels strangely heavy in his mouth and he nearly regrets saying it at all until he sees the way Jaskier's eyes light up. A smile tugs at Geralt's lips and he leans forward, reaching out to take Jaskier's hand, tentatively turning it over.

"Jaskier," he whispers, "can I kiss you?" A wide grin spreads across his face and Jaskier tips forward toward him.

"Darling, I thought you'd never ask."

#geraskier #memory loss #200 fic celebration #no.1 #the witcher #rex writes

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arlertwifey · 3 years

Text

snk cast x gn!reader + cute summertime romance

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, PLEASE!

☼ — ft. Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Jean, Levi, Hanji, & Erwin (all characters are 18+)

☼ — genre: pure fluff + gn!reader x character, warnings: mentions of vandalism/petty crime, alcohol mentions

☼ — a/n: please enjoy my first snk x reader content :)

E R E N

Fills his time with a weird mix of volunteering around the city and committing blatant acts of vandalism

He spends his days helping out at the youth shelter and nights scribbling graffiti anywhere he can find a spot. Takes you to spray-paint every underpass you come across

Unnaturally good at arcade games and wins you lots of little random plushies from the claw machines. Your favorite is an angry-looking brown bear that you can’t help but think resembles him

Loves to stay up late and discover new parts of the city with you. Has a bad habit of falling asleep on your shoulder wherever you are though, when he finally runs out of energy

Even though he tries to play it off like he’s too cool for them, insists that you two take cute photobooth pictures together and keeps his favorite of them in his wallet

A R M I N

Practically lives at the beach during the summer. The two of you plan out your days there in advance so your able to visit the different tide pools and see various sea creatures.

Has a strong sweet tooth. He’s a huge fan of any type of frozen treat, but is extremely partial to slushies. In at least half the pictures you get of your summertime adventures, his mouth is stained teal from the blue-raspberry flavor he always buys.

Gets surprisingly tan during the summer, due to the fact that he’s outside whenever possible. Even when studying, he prefers to do so at parks around where he lives rather than indoors. His hair bleaches out a little further as well.

Willing to go to parties with you when the two of you are invited by mutual friends, but tends to slip outside to the porch after the first hour. More often than not, the two of you wind up ditching all together and heading off to find someplace to get late night food.

He brings you to visit his grandfather during the summertime and the two of you help him out with repairs around the house. Being around the two people he loves the most brings out Armin’s talkative side and the three of you spend your vacation days swapping stories over glasses of iced tea.

M I K A S A

Busy during the summer, so you can’t meet as much as would like

Part of her gym’s regional kickboxing team and helps teach part time. You go to all her matches and cheer till your voice gives out. She tells you that you don’t have to come, but secretly is so, so grateful that you do

On days when you’re both free, you try out all the best brunch places in the city. Mikasa prefers small family-owned businesses. The two of you quickly become regulars at your favorite spots

Sends you voice messages when you are apart ever since you said that you liked to hear her voice. She’s adorably awkward in them, usually just telling you about whatever she’s doing at the time and how much she misses you

Gets misty-eyed when you show up at the airport with flowers for her when she gets back home. Squeezes you till your out of breath and lifts off the ground a little bit when you hug again after your time apart.

J E A N

The actual best at planning a fun day full of activities

Busts his ass working at a couple part time jobs most days, but makes up for how busy is by making sure you two have the best possible time and do the most when you’re together

The type to have a bucket list for all the different activities he thinks you guys should do together. He puts a lot of effort into creating it with you. The two of you decorate two matching posters so that each of you has a copy.

A little bit of a sucker for cliches: ice cream dates and visiting waterparks. He’s a romantic at heart and with you he feels like he can finally participate in all the classic lovey-dovey activities couples do.

One of those people who acts like an influencer despite the fact that he’s only followed by family and friends. Takes super high quality pics of you so he can brag about how great his s/o is. Took a few photography classes in college and it shows. Every photo he takes of you looks amazing because you can tell just how enamored he is with you.

King of matching couple fits. Loves when the two of you wear coordinating colors or even just similar accessories.

L E V I

Not a fan of hot weather, so prefers to hang out in the evenings or early mornings when it’s cooler (which works well with the fact that he has to work most days).

Has no clue what to do during the summer, besides what you two always do, but does his best

You two go for early morning runs at his suggestion and then get breakfast afterwards. There’s a smoothie place down the block from the park that you frequent, with different local fruit specials each week.

He brings you to his favorite tea shop and you two slowly drink your way through their summer refresher menu throughout the season. You learn

Is willing to go to the beach, but be prepared to cover the man with sunscreen, because he burns. Since he knows that he won’t encounter anyone from work, he sometimes wears a large sunhat for extra UV protection.

When your vacation time finally lines up, the two of you get out of the city and head to the charming town where his mother lives. You get to help Kuchel in her garden and listen to her stories about adorable young Levi.

While he’s not extremely enthusiastic about summer as a season, he does find it far more enjoyable when he gets to spend it with you

H A N J I

Lives for traveling during the summer months, half for fun and half for their work as part of an anthropological research team. Whenever they can’t bring you along, expect lots of silly, cheesy postcards and many late night phone calls.

Thinks that camping is an absolute must. You two go on hikes together to find the best places to camp. Teaches you all sorts of cool facts about the different areas you are in. Likes when the two of you get “lost” and have to navigate back with a compass (and a park map as backup).

Makes their own homemade juice blends (some better than others) and freezes them into popsicles. Brings you them and other snacks when you’re working.

Stays up late with you and points out different constellations while you drink hot cocoa on the rooftop of their apartment building. While you don’t understand everything they are explaining to you, you love to watch their excited expression and enthusiasm as they tell you all about the world.

E R W I N

Glamorous cultural events are Erwin’s favorite part of the summertime  Expect to to be brought to opening ceremonies, christenings of cruise ships, and wine tastings

Despite the fancy events, Erwin makes sure you don’t feel too out of place by spending the evenings shit talking the other guests with you, and trying to guess who is sleeping with who and who is going to get drunk and ruin the evening

Insists that you get out of the city as often as possible, so expect a lot of weekend getaways

As much as he likes to do things with you, he can also appreciate an afternoon spent drinking sangria and reading by the poolside (a private pool, of course. He can’t resist asking you to put sunblock on his back (half because he actually needs the help, half just to see you blush at the request).

Owns a sleek vintage convertible that he’s only able to drive in the warmer months. Likes to pick you up from work in it while still dressed in his impeccably sharp suit from the office, just to see the looks on your coworkers faces

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 1

This is my first time publishing any of my reader insert work so don’t be too hard on me. Y/N is a psych student that needs a favor and asks her therapist for help. Lmk if you want to see more.

It was an unmistakable conflict of interest, your relationship with Hannibal. He was your therapist, your mentor, your partner, and many years your senior to boot. You recognized this monumental power imbalance. You put on a façade of embarrassment for the people who expected it; people whose proclivities were done in the shadows and therefore easier to get away with. Why should you be expected to rationalize your loving, mutually beneficial relationship to a person who regularly cheats on her boyfriend?

You'd dated men your own age before, and without fail, you always found yourself waiting for them to grow up. Hannibal made you feel comfortable. Both emotionally and physically. You had a side of his bed and a spot in his arms to fall asleep in every night. Given the choice, you could truthfully say you'd never want to leave his arms.

Like many unlikely relationships, it didn’t start out in the most romantic of ways. Clutching your laptop under your raincoat, you hesitated knocking. Your therapist had, of course, seen you at your lowest points and was sworn to secrecy, but this was a low you didn’t want even him to see. Standing outside of his home, in the so-incredibly-not-business-hours dead of night with mascara running down your face.

You finally worked up the nerve to knock, telling yourself that he was probably asleep and wouldn’t hear you. This rationalization fell apart when the interior light turned on and the door unlocked. Although you’d been seeing Dr. Lecter for quite a while, his presence never failed to intimidate you. Now it was even worse. His severe expression was fixated on you as he silently awaited an explanation.

“Dr. Lecter...” You lowered your head and fumbled with your computer. You made a point to kiss your last shreds of dignity goodbye before you opened your mouth again. “...could I please borrow a book?”

Dr. Lecter narrowed his eyes. “I take it by the hour, this is an urgent matter, Miss [L/N]?”

“My midterm. It’s due in...” You glanced at your watch. “Eight hours.”

“Well you don’t have a moment to waste, now do you?” Dr. Lecter said, a slight upturn in his voice connoting amusement. “Come in. Let’s find you that book.”

You felt your muscles relax as he stepped aside to let you in. The house was spacious. Much too large for one person. That was really the only thing you could bring yourself to notice before he shut the door behind you.

“Now what is this all-important book of yours called?” He asked, pulling your raincoat from your shoulders like he always did.

“It’s called Thought Reform and the Psychology of Totalism.” You explained, tucking your computer under your arm. “By Robert Jay Lifton.”

“You’re in luck, Miss [L/N].” His thin lips turned up into a smile. “I have a copy from my own years as a student.”

You breathed an audible sigh of relief. You tensed your muscles and held in your excitement at the prospect of something finally going according to plan, even if that plan was your third or fourth backup.

You followed him into his office, which reminded you more of Belle’s library than any workspace you’d ever encountered. He must have had thousands of books in this room alone.

“It’s a fascinating read, but not one you could finish in eight hours.” Dr. Lecter's voice echoed from somewhere in the office, getting lost in the books. “Even for the most ravenous of psychology students, of which I know you to be.”

"Hardly." You muttered under your breath. "If that were the case, I wouldn't be begging for help at 2am before the final paper is due."

"Procrastination is only human, my dear." He assured you, his voice drawing closer. "It's common in those with deep-rooted insecurities about their competency."

"Now that sounds more like me." You joked, leaning back on your heels. "Should you really be trying to validate my bad habits? I feel like that's counterproductive."

"Scolding you would be more counterproductive." He corrected. "You've been scolded many times before and you continue your bad habits. Only when we get to the root of your behavior can you begin to reverse it."

He emerged from the bookshelves and handed you a beat-up copy of Thought Reform and the Psychology of Totalism, which you graciously accepted.

“Thank you so much, Dr. Lecter.” You said, placing your hand over your heart. "I owe you my life."

"I'd hardly equate your life to a used book, Miss [L/N]." Dr. Lecter said. "I feel like, as your therapist, we should talk about why you do."

You looked away, smiling sheepishly. "Maybe sometime in daylight. I've taken up enough of your time as it is. I'll get out of your hair now."

"It would take you more time to get back to your dorm that you could use writing." He said, matter-of-factually. "Write your paper in my office."

You looked at him in disbelief. Your judgment was clouded with energy drinks and desperation. So your usual self-sacrificing polite denial was steamrolled by a very enthusiastic acceptance. "I would be forever indebted to you, Dr. Lecter."

"Miss [L/N]," Dr. Lecter cut in. "You're a student, you need to study."

You didn’t really remember a lot of what happened after you wrapped your arms around his waist, too overwhelmed with gratitude to think if an embrace was even appropriate. It was the middle of the night, so you had an excuse if he shoved you off him. But surprisingly, he didn’t.

You broke the embrace and gathered up your book and computer. “Seriously, I owe you big time for this. You’re really saving my life here.”

“Go write your paper, [F/N].” He ordered. “We can discuss why you conflate your academics and your life during our next appointment. For now, make yourself at home.”

And that you did. Dr. Lecter retired back to bed and you spent a solid four hours typing away. An antique grandfather clock kept count for you. When you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer, you sent the paper off to your professor, editing be damned. You let sleep compel you, comforted by the fact that you didn't have to think about your paper for at least another week before the grading period was over.

Dr. Lecter’s desk was the most comfortable surface in the world to you that night, because you slept for six hours with only your arms as a pillow. It was the first rest your body had gotten in quite some time. You were gently coaxed awake by the smell of something delicious.

You followed the smell into a kitchen that could rival those of Michelin-starred restaurants. Dr. Lecter was hard at work, cooking something that enticed your nose. He cracked an egg and looked up at you. “Good morning, Miss [L/N].”

“I’m sorry.” You said, shaking your head shamefully.

“For?” He asked, fixing his attention back on his recipe.

“Falling asleep.” You dropped your shoulders.

“I told you to make yourself at home, did I not?” He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. This time, he sounded like he was actually going to scold you. “Tell me, do you sleep at your desk at home?”

“I try not to.” You answer with a shrug.

“But when you feel yourself falling asleep, you usually put yourself to bed, right?” He continued.

You started to feel a bit stupid. “...yeah.”

He poked at some sausage links in a frying pan, letting out a sizzle. “You could have taken the couch.”

“I guess I was just too sleepy to think of that.” You explained, preparing to be psychoanalyzed no matter what you said.

“No, you were just too polite to push the imagined boundaries of my invitation.” He concluded, busying his hands with plating whatever it was he was making. His tone was comfortingly familiar. “Miss [L/N], don’t sacrifice your comfort for what you think I perceive to be rude. If I found you rude, you’d know it.”

"I'm sorry." You repeated.

"Don't apologize." He said, reaching for the pepper mill. "I know your anxiety disorder makes you feel like you are a burden. I assure you, you are not. I want you to know for next time that the couch is open. Or you could take the guest bedroom."

You stopped yourself before you could apologize again. You momentarily pondered what he had to say before uttering a quiet but convicted "Thank you."

"You're very welcome." Dr. Lecter slid a plate across the table in your direction. "Eat, my dear."

You didn't need to be told twice. You usually didn’t care for sausage, but reconsidered when you took a bite. The meat was so flavorful and rich, a little noise of delight escaped your lips.

Dr. Lecter smiled, your little moan sending his ego through the roof. “You like it?”

“It’s delicious.” You put your fork down, your face flush with embarrassment. “Way better than the food at the dining hall.”

“Miss [L/N],” Dr. Lecter began, putting an extra sausage link on your plate. “If you find yourself in need of psychology texts, I’d be happy to extend my invitation indefinitely.”

You nearly choked on your eggs. “On god?”

“Given that you arrive sometime before midnight and perhaps call ahead, yes.” He answered. “Your studies are your life and breath, after all. You would find yourself very accommodated to here.”

This time, you'd really take him up on his offer.

#hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter #reader insert #first fic #its probably crap #an attempt was made

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anika-ann · 3 years

Text

Walk Me Home Tonight (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, songfic

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 4700

Summary: Sometimes it’s hard to be in a celebratory mood when all you can think of is that life sucks and that being left on your own to drown your sorrows is for the best.

Sometimes people who care about you know better than yourself and come crashing your party of one.

Sometimes, despite the popular belief, you do realize how lucky you are having been introduced to Steve Rogers.

Warnings: mention of blood and violence and death, mention of alcohol, angst, fluff and language

A/N: P!nk’s Walk Me Home just does something to me, alright? Music video included - it’s soooo beautiful.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

You stared at the amber liquid, lazily making it roll in the glass with idle motions of your wrist. It reflected the rather soft lights of the bar, an exquisite game of colour you found fascinating enough to dull your mind and muffle the noise of the party.

It wasn’t that you were a party pooper, not usually anyway; just… the timing wasn’t ideal.

Of course, Sharon could hardly move her birthday to make it more convenient for you, less so a party her colleagues had decided to throw for her. You knew Agent Carter for quite some time now; she had joined SHIELD about the same time as you, going through the same tough training. Except unlike you – and initially without your knowledge – she had an image to live up to.

You might even call her a friend, your chest bursting in pride for her when her hard work had finally borne some fruit and she had been promoted to an assistant director of the intelligence agency. Among other things, it earned her a lot of new potential friends.

You were hardly acting like one tonight, much to your own annoyance. But for some reason, you found it difficult to leave your momentary emotional baggage at the doorstep, slipping it off as easily as your coat. You had wished her all the best, conversed for a tiny bit and then happily made space for others, for the forming line of guests waiting to celebrate with her as well.

Then you retreated to your spot at the bar, possibly annoying the bartender, who would have been more delighted seeing some heavier drinker occupying your seat, tipping generously, instead of having you nursing each glass of alcohol for about two hours.

You weren’t even sure why you were still here; you had given up on the attempt on small talk with anyone, apparently unwittingly chasing away any potential company. And here you thought misery did love company – perhaps you were wrong, at least when it came to birthday parties of gorgeous women loved by everyone. You might as well pack up your bottom and sulk at home.

You were stubbornly shushing the voice in the back of your skull, whispering about knowing precisely why you remained in your seat; about feeling less alone here, despite being a literal loner in a crowd.

You downed the rest of the bitter scotch, basking in the burn which it left on its way down your throat, your eyelids slipping shut in content, the noise in your brain falling silent completely for few blissful moments.

“Party of one?” a male voice gently asked, the tinniest note of teasing in it and while your heart skipped a startled beat at being addressed, you felt the burn in your throat slip lower, warming your chest and causing the corners of your mouth turn up just a fraction.

There's something in the way you roll your eyes Takes me back to a better time When I saw everything is good But now you're the only thing that's good

“Felt like crashing it?” you hummed in response, side-eyeing the intruder and found a pair of cerulean eyes staring back. He blindly waved off the eager bartender who was about to offer him a drink.

Ah, poor guy. No tips for him tonight.

“Well, I didn’t get an invitation. Looks like crashing was my only option.”

You sighed tiredly despite Steve’s kind teasing. Tonight was just… so exhausting. Tonight. Today. This week. Gah, this whole month. This fucking year--- okay, maybe you were exaggerating, because you were simply crossing the line, moving from relaxed buzzed drunk to a miserable one.

Battling with yourself, arguing whether you should send him to hell – nicely, because Steve was nothing but kind, he was always so kind, goddammit, gentle humour spiced with the ability to become an utter troll, still benign though, that was why you usually enjoyed his company so much after all-… – or call it a night.

Or should you order another drink? Was there a point? You might cross the line to a clingy drunk eventually and you weren’t certain that was a good idea.

It was probably about as good of an idea as coming to a party despite feeling like shit on an emotional roller-coaster, dangerously inclining towards a very bad mood to put it mildly.

You tilted your head to side as you looked at Steve properly, tight blue shirt flattering his supersoldier frame, black pants with desperately needed leather belt considering his thin waist, his blonde hair a mess, gaze fixed on you, observing. Always observing to read people, to anticipate behaviour, evaluate the threat; sometimes simply to be considerate, to… to be compassionate.

Dammit, Steve.

“Must have got lost in the mail then,” you said eventually, offering a weak smile. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” he shrugged it off, the curve of his lips more distinct than yours. As if he was offering to cheer you up. Sweet, but possibly vain effort tonight. Sometimes, things simply piled up and there was no escape. Such was the fate of a government agent. And human, for that matter. “Doesn’t look like much fun and I think it’s about to end anyway.”

“I guess…”

Tryna stand up on my own two feet This conversation ain't comin' easily And darling, I know it's getting late So what do you say we leave this place?

This time, Steve actually made an eye contact with the bartender, who eagerly rushed to him at instant. His excited expression fell when he noticed you were pulling out your wallet to close your tab. You didn’t have the strength to shoot him an apologetic smile.

Steve’s eyes were on you the whole time, you could feel them, and you wondered why. Until he spoke again, as soon as the other man left.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home,” he offered gentlemanly, coaxing you into saying yes, possibly unaware of the effect which such tone had on people.

Or perhaps he knew, using exactly that when he was trying to talk someone down, to calm them, gain their trust. The joke was on him, because it was a vain effort; you trusted him fully already. Surely, he knew that.

Right?

Trust was the solid base the team of Avengers needed and since you somehow found yourself with them, it involved you too. The team stood and fell on trust and mutual respect. But it meant so much more – they were friends. They cared about each other, about their well-being.

Right now, Steve was being a good friend and a good teammate.

And you were being exactly that too when you turned his kind proposition down.

“No, it’s fine. There are still some people who are actually able to speak coherently with you. Go enjoy yourself. I’ll be okay.”

“It’s three in the morning,” he pointed out, as if admonishing you for not noticing. Your eyebrow rose deliberately.

“…and?”

“And I’d feel better if you weren’t walking the streets alone,” he replied easily, ignoring the hint of snark in your comeback as you made your way to the coat-stand.

Still walking on the line of miserable and pleasantly buzzed, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mean to him for such patronizing approach. He had been raised this way and despite his open mind and admirable respect to women, he slipped sometimes.

“Steve, I’m a SHIELD agent basically turned Avenger. I can take care of my-“

“But you don’t have to. And-” He gestured subtly back towards the bar and a metaphorical lightbulb flickered above your head.

Not patronizing then, god forbid chauvinist; Peggy Carter would rise from the death to beat him with his own shield, with Natasha’s enthusiastic help, if he was showing any sign of aforementioned qualities and he was well-aware of that.

Just mother-henning then, the way Steve excelled at.

It brought the first honest smile of the night to your lips. You made sure to face him so he could see how wholesome his company was for you.

“I’m not too drunk, Steve. I had like two glasses of scotch,” you assured him, gently brushing his forearm before reaching for your coat and scarf. “And two beers.”

“I know,” he stated, stealing your coat only to hold it out for you to slip into it.

God, the woman who would once win his heart was about to be one lucky bitch.

Jim has never done this for me, flashed through your mind and you instantly shushed the whining voice in your head. Instead, you went over what he just said, blinking in surprise.

Huh? He… knew?

“I… might have kept an eye on you,” he admitted tentatively, the tips of his fingers brushing your shoulder before retreating and letting you to cocoon in the fabric.

“Why?”

Why would he keep an eye on you? Sure, teammates and friends and all that, but for some reason, you doubted he kept an eye on Tony, the only other Avenger (beside Steve, not Steve and you, you don’t count, a voice hissed in your mind and you winced) who attended the party, not being on any mission at the moment.

Why did Steve feel like you needed a chaperone?

No, that was too harsh of a word for him, you were certain his intentions were everything but malicious, but… why?

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

The genuine wonder must have been audible in your voice, much like your shock must have been clear in your expression, because Steve seemed sheepish all of sudden, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, I mean, I know that you probably wouldn’t-“ he started, only to grimace. “It’s not that I think you’re an alcoholic! It’s just that... you--- and it’s only been-…“

-four days since you got dumped, you finished the unspoken sentence and tried your best to ignore the cold seeping into your bones at the reminder.

One of the reasons why you had been in a sour mood and deciding to drink alone. Your amazing asshole of a boyfriend had dumped you, metaphorically kicking you while you had already been down. Lovely.

“-I was worried. But you didn’t look like you were interested in having company, I didn’t want to be a bother and-“

You pulled Steve out of his misery by placing a hand over his forearm, which stopped the words spilling uncontrollably from his mouth.

He was actually being very sweet and thoughtful. It kinda made you feel bad, because… you weren’t looking for dragging someone down with you. As it was, he had his own reasons to not be happy about partying tonight, but feeling like he had to keep an eye on you probably didn’t help to lift his spirits.

“-and you had to spend some time with the woman of the hour,” you finished instead of him slowly, hoping you sounded at least half as thoughtful as he did and that you didn’t appear to be the greatest bitch, stealing attention from Sharon. “That’s understandable, Steve. It is her birthday party and I’m the one being antisocial.”

You bit down your lip, lowering your gaze, because the infamous worried wrinkle appeared on Steve’s forehead and you just knew he was about to protest and you… honestly felt bad about your behaviour and the welcoming colour of his eyes was not helping to make you feel any better, because of course he probably thought it was perfectly normal to look out for you instead of allowing himself to enjoy the night and- ugh.

“You… you shouldn’t have to look out for me. Your attention could have been fully on the birthday girl.”

Naturally, Steve Rogers basically shrugged it off. Covering your hand on him with his large palm, he slouched to look into your eyes once more. Insistent bastard, no doubt aware of your inability to say no to his amiable face.

“That’s what friends are for. Now, can I walk you home?”

You shook your head with a sad smile, rising your gaze towards the ceiling, hoping it came out as an exasperation at his stubbornness and not as it truly was – you in fact attempting to keep your tears at bay, because, miserable drunk, dumped four days ago apart from other things and there he was, asshole perfect, Steve fucking Rogers, gentleman and friend extraordinaire, caring for your well-being more than Jim ever had.

A twinkle appeared in his eye when he recognized he won and you chuckled, sealing his victory out loud.

“Yes, Steve. You can walk me home. It’s conveniently located on the way to yours.”

He smirked when he shrugged on his own coat. “Happy coincidences…”

There's something in the way I wanna cry That makes me think we'll make it out alive So come on and show me how we're good I think that we could do some good, mhm

Once you left the bar, silence fell on you, feeling heavy as did the cold November air.

Heavy and awkward. While you could tell with certainty you were barely affected by the alcohol you had drunk, your steps were wobbly, knees shaky as if you were a baby horse trying to stand up for the first time.

Steve walked by your side, majestic in his thigh-length coat, hands snugged in its pockets only halfway as if he was waiting for you needing his support. It irritated you as much as it warmed your heart.

On top of everything, you would swear every lone person you met stared at you, staring you up and down until they seemed to register Steve’s imposing frame and quickly went back to their business. It annoyed you to no end; it was just proving Steve’s point that you shouldn’t walk the streets alone at such hour, government agent or not.

“I would have been fine, you know,” you hummed, cautiously breaking the relative quiet.

It was never truly quiet in New York City, only rush hours alternating with calmer ones. You didn’t mind it; you enjoyed the city. Sometimes quiet meant that thoughts won the opportunity to become too loud; tonight, for some reason, despite the silence, Steve prevented that ever since he joined you.

It dawned to you then, how ungrateful you sounded and you quickly added “But thanks.” – a whisper full of honesty.

“Uh-huh.”

Perhaps the silence weighted so much because your mood wasn’t the only cause of it.

Steve was showing you that he worried; surely, you could as well? Because you did, worry about him that was.

“…are you? Okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked distractedly, but you could hear the frown on his face, the image of his nose scrunched in confusion painted in front of your eyes even without looking at him.

“Just… today-” you nudged him once more and vaguely eyed your watch only to be reminded that ‘today’ was a confusing term. “Or, more like, yesterday…”

A sharp inhale was drawn at your side and you could sense as he started closing off, putting up his walls so no one would catch a scent of his weakness. You hated when he tried to do that. You would have thought you were past that. You liked to consider you two friends at least.

Tonight was simply not your night. Of either of you, apparently.

“What about it-?“

You sighed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Were you truly such a crappy company, an insensitive friend or was there something sorrowful and cranky in the air, preventing your communication channels from tuning to the same frequency?

You were aware what the day meant for him – another painful reminder of what he had lost with crashing the plane in the forties only to wake up in a new millennium.

Though this particular loss – of his mother – haunted him even back in what some people called his days. It was an utter non-sense. Steve belonged there as much as he belonged here. He was brave enough to try and stubborn enough to succeed in fitting in.

“Nothing, I guess,” you sighed once more, this time rolling your eyes. “…Mr. Nothing Can Touch Me.”

The wry nickname hung in the air for a while, the faint noise of the night city washing over your pair. When Steve broke it again, there was a barely audible crack in his voice.

“I… I’m okay. I think. I… should be. It’s been so long. Decades,” he mused, turning his gaze to the sky. His eyes glistened and if you didn’t know him, hadn’t witnessed his walls lowering before, you would have thought it was just the streetlights reflecting.

You knew better. Tentatively, your fingers brushed his, not remembering when his hands had left his pockets. You were grateful for it now, especially when he didn’t retrieve from your touch instantly.

“Not for you,” you pointed out quietly, rewarded by the softest squeeze of his warm hand.

The heaviness and tension you had felt before resolved with the gesture. Something finally fell into place and you were almost you again and he was almost him.

Two figures, carrying their griefcases, but functioning and… harmonizing once more.

“How did you know?”

“That’s what friends are for, Steve,” you echoed his earlier words, sending a tiny smile his way, meeting his glassy gaze. “They remember important dates, good or bad.”

“No one else did. Not that I can actually hold it against Buck, of course... but no one… you…” his voice trailed off as he lost his train of thought – or perhaps he had never truly directed it to the station in the first place.

Your shoulders moved a fraction, a hint of a shrug-off. His hand wrapped around yours tighter in silent appreciation, not showing any sign of intending to let go.

And you were alright with that. More than alright.

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

His presence was always immense, overwhelming even; yet so comfortable you didn’t have the slightest problem with opening your heart to him, offering it to him even when it was bleeding. And now, finally tuned together, it was no different.

You bared your heart to him, even if it hurt.

“She didn’t make it,” you whispered, voice pained in the dead of the night and he didn’t react, letting you to gather strength to elaborate. You cleared your throat as the lump grew in it. “Kayla, one of the kids… from last week’s mission. I found out yesterday… she-she didn’t make it, she had too many injuries. Word is that perhaps it was even a blessing. A relief.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve repented, his grip growing stronger just a fraction, enough to make your chest and eyes burn.

“Yeah, so am I.”

Whatever he heard in your voice, it caused his fingers twitch in your hand, his footsteps slowing down. “You know that wasn’t your fault, right?”

“Wasn’t it? If I was faster, if I-“

Steve stopped in his tracks completely, pulling at your hand to make you do the same and face him.

You closed your eyes when his blue ones met them, unable to stand the urgency in them. His free hand curled around your shoulder, caressing in attempt at comfort.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that to yourself.” Hypocrite, you threw back at him in your mind, stubbornly keeping your eyelids shut, simply knowing that if you saw the sincerity in his gaze in addition to the fervour he spoke with, you might actually believe him. “You did your best. I know that, Nat and Buck know, everyone does. A monster you helped to put behind bars hurt the kids. Not you. You saved so many lives.”

You shook your head with a sigh, staring straight ahead as you turned on your heels and continued your path. Steve, never letting go of your hand, followed reluctantly.

“Sometimes I think he might have been right, you know?”

Peripherally, you saw him frown again and you cursed yourself for drinking – it untangled your tongue and his stupid face made your spill your guts to him, vomit emotion. You weren’t too secretive about your feelings most of the time, but damn, you hated how alcohol pushed your boundaries of sharing them.

“… Jim. He said that maybe I should give it up. That I’m just running alongside you, heroes, pretending to be one of you, but in the end, I’m not even close to being as good-“

Steve’s feet took roots in the ground, his steely grip forcing you to stop – as long as you wanted to keep your hand attached, which yeah, you kinda did.

“I feel like taking a detour now,” he muttered darkly and for a short moment, confusion was everything you felt, blissfully overtaking the anger, the sorrow, the helplessness and the feeling of utter uselessness.

“Huh?”

“Where does Jim live?” Steve spitted out the name venomously and you couldn’t help the wave of affection washing over you. Affection towards this treasure of a man who apparently wanted to punch another human being because it offended his friend. “He has no business saying something like that. Especially if his bullshit actually affects you-”

“Steve, he wasn’t wrong, I’m just-“ you sputtered, caught off guard when you registered the fire in his glare.

“We all make mistakes. But that’s beside the point, because you didn’t even make any that day. I read the report, and I know you, you put everything you got and more into the rescue mission. How can he-“ he hissed, literally taking a calming breath as both of his hands balled into fist.

Well, one of them only nearly, since it was still holding yours. It actually stung a bit, the bones in your hand close to grinding against each other.

“-I haven’t met him many times, but if he said that instead of comforting you after an incredibly draining mission, then I’m glad that that asshole is gone from your life. … though I would still appreciate his address.”

Blinking away the few stray tears that welled up, you forced a smile as Steve’s strict glare found yours. It felt good, seeing his indignation; having someone else exasperated on how Jim had reacted. He should have given you a hug and hold you tight; that was what you would wish for. Instead, he told you to stop complaining and when you accused him of not supporting you, he called you a whiny bitch who should make up her damn mind and broke things off.

You deeply appreciated Steve’s display of chivalry, hell, you half-considered giving away the address just so Jim would hear someone else agreeing with you, but you were honestly just tired. And you had a feeling Steve wouldn’t stay only at words and seeing any more blood, any more aggression would have been too much for you tonight.

Tonight, you… you needed serenity and comfort.

“…thank you. That… that means a lot. But… maybe just walk me home? Please? Could you walk me home, Steve?” you pleaded softly, barely audible, not caring it sounded like weeping of a needy child.

Unbeknownst to you, that was the last thing you resembled in Steve’s eyes. Your imploring gaze, vulnerable and open, it moved something inside him, his anger silenced for the moment, leaving him defenceless, unable to say no. Not that he had an intention to do so. He always had trouble saying no to you.

So he forced his fists to relax, running his thumb over the back of your hand and whispered the only word that made sense.

“Always.”

You settled back to the comfortable silence after that.

Walk me home in the dead of night 'Cause I can't be alone with all that's on my mind Say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on

You reached the Tower hand in hand.

Neither of you released the other. Not during the elevator ride, not when you walked the halls lined with doors leading to each’s private quarters.

You were still holding onto each other when you came to a stop in front of your door; rest assured, Steve Rogers would lead you right to your door even if his was only at the end of the very same corridor.

Standing nearly chest to chest, his eyes bored into yours with seriousness that surprised you.

“For the record, you do a great deal of good,” he reassured you, saying it as if he truly meant it. It tugged at your heart, sweet and bitter. “You’re amazing and you’re the most authentic of all of us. I admire you.”

That claim caused you to chuckle. Now he was laying it on a bit thick, downright exaggerating.

“You admire me? Steve, that’s really nice of you to say, but don’t be ridi-“

Your words died in your throat when his large palm splayed over your cheek, cradling it gently. When the paddle of his thumb swiped over your other cheek, soft smile playing on his lips, his irises bright with a promise, time seemingly stopped along with your heart.

“And you’re a great friend to the whole team, a wonderful person. Do me a favour and finally learn to accept a compliment,” he asked of you in hushed voice, the electric blue and green of his eyes locking you in. “If he didn’t praise you enough for you to get used to it, he was doing something wrong.”

You gulped, a silly association with the word ‘praise’ allowing you to break from the cage of his gaze that had previously had your mind gone blank.

“I’m not a dog to be praised, Steve…”

One corner of his lips – and when did they got so close anyway? – twitched. And then a tender kiss landed on your forehead, just the softest brush of lips against your skin. The gesture, utterly incomprehensible for you, had your eyelids flutter shut.

“I’m very much aware. Believe me, doll, I know. Thank you for letting me walk you home.”

You only nodded at the ridiculous statement – why was he thanking you? – too perplexed at the fact his lips had made contact with your skin. When did you cross the line towards the delusional drunk?

His fingertips caressed your face as he let go, wishing you to have a good night. Too baffled, you were unable to respond until he had already made his way to his door and you suddenly missed the warmth of his presence.

Breaking free from your haze, you acted on impulse, apparently startling him when you called his name out of blue so urgently.

“Steve!”

Whipping his head around to look at you, you felt your heart jump into your throat.

“Uh… are you ready to go to bed or… or maybe… would you like to watch a movie or something?” With me?

I don’t think I’m ready to be alone. Ready to be without you.

Even from the distance, you would swear you saw his lips spread in a slow honey-sweet smile.

“I think I’d like that,” he called out lowly. “Ten minutes? I’ll get the blankets. You pick the movie.”

“See you in ten then.”

You pretended that your heart didn’t flutter, sending a wave of familiar tingle through your chest and to your fingers, as you slipped inside your room with your mouth curled up in a content smile.

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong There is so much wrong There is so much wrong going on outside

*✧･ Bonus *✧･

If Tony found them two and half hour later, closing credits rolling, the pair curled up and cuddling on the couch, you fast asleep in Steve’s arms, and he noticed that the supersoldier was in fact only faking to avoid an interrogation from the Ironman himself, he didn’t mention it. He just whispered to FRIDAY to turn off the TV and turn off the dimmed lights completely.

He hoped Rogers would treat you the way you deserved, unlike the man who now had farts announcing a received e-mail or texts, unable to change it, and a laptop turning on randomly, dead-pale children staring at him from the screen with hollow eyes and in clothes dripping water. Tony would hate to have to hack more tech again just to avenge your broken heart without your knowledge any time soon.

He’d rather suffer watching the two of his friends being disgustingly sweet on each other.

Probably.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

S.R. masterlist

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

Silent thanks to the person who came up with the word ‘griefcase’ as an alternative to emotional baggage.

Also, I’m pretty sure songfics aren’t supposed to be so long... oops?

Thank you for reading!

#fanfiction #songfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #hurt/comfort #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #avenger reader #shield agent reader #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #walk me home tonight #anika ann

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inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years

Note

heeeey any insecure!john?

Hi Nonny!

Ahhhh, you know I’ve collected fics over the years but I’ve mixed them up with the Sherlock ones, so I think I’ll start anew and start fresh! I know I’ve missed a lot when I pulled them out of the old lists, so forgive me! Hope you enjoy what I’ve got here for you!

As always, Lovelies, please add your insecure John fics!!

INSECURE JOHN

See also:

BAMF! But Insecure John

Insecure / Awkward John or Sherlock (Jan 2019)

Concussions And Good Old Fashioned Awkwardness by Belldere (K+, 894 w. || Humour, Hospitals, Mild John Whump, Misunderstandings, Platonic Relationship, Concussions, Not-Gay John, Possessive Sherlock) – When John lands himself in hospital... again, all he wants is to just get out of there as soon as possible, too bad his doctor has other ideas about where John may be getting his injuries. Good thing concussions make everything strangely funnier.

I Was Wrong by AllesandraQuartermaine (K, 1,496 w., 1 Ch. || TGG AU, Friendship, Hospitalization / Injury, John’s Self Esteem, Sleepy Sherlock) – Sherlock and John have a conversation a few days after the pool face off with Moriarty. And John hears something quite surprising.

Hell or High water by bluefire301175 (E, 2,250 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Frottage, Alley Sex, First Person POV John, Case-ish Fic, Mutual Pining, Bed Sharing) – John wants. Sherlock wants. Plain and simple.

Not My Proudest Moment by charlock221 (K, 2,695 w., 1 Ch. || Lunar New Year, Mild PTSD / Panic Attack, Coping Mechanisms, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort) – John tries his best not to get in the way of Sherlock's cases, but when the vivid noises of fireworks unnerve his senses and begin to bring back unwanted memories of Afghanistan, he cannot help but to hope Sherlock will notice and help him before things go too far.

Closeted by Sexxica (E, 2,762 w., 1 Ch. || Trapped in a Closet, Panicking Sherlock, Hand Jobs, Coming in Pants, Awkward Conversations, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Fluffy Ending) – An improvised hiding spot and a bit of accidental voyeurism leave John and Sherlock in an awkward position.

The General Idea by agirlsname (T, 3,022 w., 1 Ch. || Retirement, Promise of Forever / Proposal, POV John, First Kiss, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Soft Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Crying / Emotional Sherlock, Love Confessions) – After twenty years of friendship, John is used to Sherlock acting weirdly. But the news Sherlock finally brings himself to deliver change the carefully built dynamics between them, and John realises it's time to act.

Paranoia by Ewebie (M, 3,789 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Drinking Games, Scotland Yard Gang, Jealous / Possessive Sherlock, Inappropriate Questions, Embarrassed John, Matchmakers) – John and Sherlock join the gang of Scotland Yard for a night of drinking, and it gets a bit personal and revealing.

Coldness/Heat by agirlsname (E, 3,790 w., 1 Ch. || Cuddling & Snuggling, Body Heat, New Year’s Eve, PWP, Bedsharing, Frottage) – The inn is booked up on New Year's Eve. The train home is cancelled because of the snow. The only option is to sleep in the non-heated guest room of a client, and John and Sherlock are freezing. You know where this is going. Part 1 of New Year's Kiss

The Oolong Disaster by unicornpoe (T, 4,151 w., 1 Ch. || John’s Beard, Fluff, Humour, Frustrated Sherlock, John Takes Care of Sherlock, Case Fic-ish, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Possessive Sherlock) – John has a beard. Sherlock has a panic attack.

Afghanistan in Baskerville by Amaya Ramiel (K+, 4,357 w., 1 Ch. || THoB Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Drugged John, PTSD / Panic Attack, Hallucinations, Worried Sherlock, John’s Past, Friendship) – What if John hadn't seen the hound when Sherlock trapped him in the lab? What if instead, his very real nightmares of the war had materialized all around him? Trapped and drugged, John can't tell what's real and what's not. How will Sherlock react?

Overture by Kate_Lear (M, 4,435 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Angry John, Introspection, Dev. Rel., Embarrassed / Insecure Sherlock, Morning After, Bed Sharing, Cuddles / Limpet Sherlock) – A short snippet on how John and Sherlock might have got together.

What You Are Worth by Lastew (T, 4,488 w., 1 Ch. || Observant but Insecure John, Friendship, Crime / Case Fic) – John helps Sherlock with a case, but he questions his real value to Sherlock.

Let Down by Gandalf3213 (K+, 4,505 w., 2 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, John Whump, Insecure John) – John truly is sorry for letting Sherlock down. The only thing he wanted to do was finish the case, but bleeding out in a dark alley makes it harder for him to pursue that murderer running out of sight.

Sherlock and John Go Clubbing by wendymarlowe (E, 4,716 w., 3 Ch. || Clubbing, Dirty Talk, Dancing, Coming Untouched, Coming in Pants, Bi John, For a Case, Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Sherlock is Lost for Words, Sexy John, Mutual Pining, Possessive John, Floor Sex/Hand Job/Frottage) – John pinched the bridge of his nose - even for Sherlock, this was a new level of no bloody boundaries. “You want me to go with you to a gay club, wait around twiddling my thumbs while I let you get pawed by a criminal, then out-flirt him and talk you into coming home with me instead?” Part 32 of John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times

Pillow Talk by scullyseviltwin (M, 5,183 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Angsty Fluff, Pillow Talk, Bed Sharing, Worried John, First Time Morning After, Soft Sherlock, Sexuality Discussion, Love Confessions, Kisses and Cuddles) – John has been looking at Sherlock for ages, it feels like.

Welcome Home, John by slashscribe (G, 5,504 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Awkwardness, Stabbed Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Panic Attack (Sherlock), Self Esteem Issues, Love Confessions, First Kiss) – When John moves back to 221B, he thinks he’s the broken one, but after a while, it becomes clear that he might not be correct.

An Interpretation of Viewing Habits by akitsuko (E, 6,653 w., 1 Ch. || Porn Watching, Masturbation, Anal, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Declarations of Love, Jealous Sherlock, Fantasizing, John in Denial / Internalized Homophobia, Bottomlock, Pining Idiots, Sherlock Has No Boundaries, Cockblocking Sherlock) – John watches porn. It's a perfectly normal thing to do.If every video he watches happens to feature actors with remarkable physical similarities to his flatmate, well, that's no one's business but his own. Or: John is in denial, until his infatuation with Sherlock is impossible to deny anymore.

Inconvenient Timing by TheMadKatter13 (M, 7,072 w., 1 Ch. || Omegaverse || Omega John/Alpha Sherlock, Romance, Public Heat, Scared John, Protective / Worried / Possessive Sherlock, Post-TBB AU, Caring Sherlock, Pre-Slash, Happy Ending) – When John's heat failed to appear three times in a row after he was shot, he figured it was just another broken piece off the broken toy soldier. So he was rather surprised to feel it start out of the blue...and not at all pleased with it starting while he was on the tube.

Sometimes When We Touch by kedgeree (M, 7,755 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, First Kiss/Time, Inappropriate Giggling, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Virgin Sherlock, John Whump, Touching) – John might be touching Sherlock a little more often than is strictly necessary. Sherlock probably hasn't even noticed. Right...?

Victim, Bait, Hero, Friend by KimberlyTheOwl (T, 7,887 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TGG Epilogue, Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Past Kidnapping / Torture / Implied Rape, Panic Attacks, Worried / Possessive Sherlock, Lestrade is a Good Friend) – Some insights into why John was perfectly willing to throw everything away for a chance to kill Moriarty at the pool. Trauma, ugliness, and finally healing. Some nice supporting work by Lestrade as well.

Every Night I Look for You by destinationtoast (E, 8,377 w., 1 Ch. || POV John, Post-TRF, Angst, Mystery, Unsafe Sex, BAMF John) – Every night, John looks for familiar hints of Sherlock in the men he meets in bars, and he does with them all the things he wishes he’d done before. Eventually, he stumbles into a situation that Sherlock would know how to handle, and John must decide whether he can handle it without him.

Just Like That by sussexbound (E, 8,442 w., 1 Ch. || First Time/Kiss, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock, French Kissing, Anal, Emotional Lovemaking, Enthusiastic Consent, Tenderness, Crying John, Bathing/Washing, Insecure John, Toplock) – John doesn’t want to talk anymore. He wants. Oh dear god, how he wants. For the first time in what feels like years he WANTS.

Unwasted by patternofdefiance (E, 8,966 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3 / S3 Fix-It, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Angelo’s, Fluff, First Time, Anal, Cum Play, Flashbacks to ASiB, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Bottomlock, Cuddles, Multiple Orgasms, BJ’s, Bed Sharing) – John finds it three months after he's moved back. He's on the hunt for something to make for dinner, is scrounging through the cupboards, when he happens upon the graveyard of pasta boxes Sherlock still seems to create when left to his own devices. Behind seven boxes of pasta, all almost completely empty, is a dark-glassed bottle, with a paler coat of dust. It's unopened. John's face falls slack when he sees it, instantly recognises it, and for a long moment he just stands and looks at it.

Ravish Me by amalnahurriyeh (E, 10,025 w., 1 Ch. || UST / RST, Makeup / Lipstick, Sympathetic Sally, Experiments, Pining John, First Kiss, Face Fucking / BJ’s, Cuddling) – Sherlock is experimenting with patterns of wear on lipstick in daily encounters. John is going to go insane.

A Is For Aftermath by ElvendorkInfinity (T, 10,567 w., 1 Ch. || Injury / Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Pre-Slash/Bromance/Platonics, Hallucinations, Introspection, Insecure / Worried John, Big Brother Mycroft, Alternating POV, Anxious Sherlock, Self-Deprecating, Mildly Possessive Sherlock, 3G Moment) – John is still hallucinating, Sherlock cannot sleep, and Lestrade has a new case for them. But will life at 221B ever be able to return to normal? Epilogue to M is for Moriarty.

London Gods by a_different_equation (E, 11,092 w., 5 Ch. || American Gods Fusion || Magical Realism, Sex Magic, True Love, PTSD John, First Kiss/Time, Marathon Sex, Sensuality, Genie Sherlock, Human John, Internalized Homophobia, Star-Crossed Lovers, Soul Mates) – Sherlock Holmes is a jinn who does not grant wishes. However, when Dr. John H. Watson, recently returned from the war in Afghanistan, gets into his cab by "accident", it might not even need magic to grant both men their deepest wish: love.

On The Fence by BeautifulFiction (T, 13,770 w., 1 Ch. || Fencing, Case Fic, First Kiss, Insecure John, Pining John, Hug, Greg Finds Out) – The murder of the King's College fencing champion leads to revelations about Sherlock's past. Will it be the point that tips them from friends to lovers, or will they remain on the fence?

A Silver Sixpence by _doodle (NC-17, 16,400 w., 2 Ch. || LJ Fic || For a Case / Case Fic, Fake Relationship, Humour, Romance, Marriage Proposal, Awkward Idiots, Cuddling, Touching, Kissing, Love Confessions, Bed Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fake Until It’s Not, Schmoop and Fluff, Bottomlock) – “John, we need to get married. It’s for a case, not any romantic notions on my part pertaining to our partnership,” Sherlock said, with brutal honesty, and without even looking up.

Between Friends by SilentAuror (E, 18,036 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3, Alternating POV, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Abduction, Awkward Situations / Miscommunications, Porn With Feels, Blowjobs, Pining, Unrequited, Angst With Happy Ending) – Sherlock gets abducted. As John discovers him tied up naked in an empty storage facility and comes to rescue him, Sherlock's body has an unfortunate reaction which triggers a series of events. John is convinced that everything will be fine as long as they never discuss it. Sherlock isn't as sure...

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (E, 20,121 w., 1 Ch. || Original Male Character, Sherlock Woos John, Jealous Sherlock, Reluctant Bi-John, Past Abuse, Insecure John, Reassuring / Caring Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Understanding Sherlock) – John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.

Maintaining A Personal Life by Gingerhermit (E, 24,284 w., 6 Ch. || Alternating POV’s, Bisexuality, BAMF!John, Jealous Sherlock, Romance / Drama, Sort-of Case Fic, Peril & Angst, Love Confessions, Toplock, Soft Idiots in Love, Post S3) – Sherlock and John discover some interesting revelations about each other’s sexuality, which lead them both to question the assumptions they've made about one another for years. In the midst of their mutual discoveries, a dangerous psychopath looms on the side-lines who threatens to destroy their new beginning.

Nothing to Make a Song About by emmagrant01 (E, 36,833 w., 10 Ch. || Post-TRF, First Time, Reunion, Jealous John, Pining Sherlock, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, Sherlock Has a Boyfriend) – When Sherlock returned from his faked death, John could not forgive him for the deception and broke off their friendship. Ten years later, John returns to London in search of yet another new beginning. Sherlock, not surprisingly, is waiting.

Turn Left at the Park by Glenmore (NR (E), 37,409 w., 28 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting / ASiP Divergence, Case Fic, Depression, Suicidal Ideation, Loneliness, No Mary, Possessive Sherlock, Fluff & Angst, Nightmares/PTSD, Sherlock Saves John, Sherlock Whump-ish, Doctor John) – So what would have happened if John hadn't walked through the park and met Stamford? What if, instead, he walked around the park and just went home?

Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Never Change a Running System by Lorelei_Lee (E, 54,246 w., 18 Ch. || Pre-TRF, Romance, Humour, Drama, Sex Toys, Anal, Rimming, Masturbation, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Public Sex, First Kiss / Time, Virgin Sherlock / Loss of Virginity, Accidental Voyeurism, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Experiments, Naive Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Straight With an Exception John, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock discovers his sexuality – with far-reaching consequences for John.

The Thing Is by TSylvestris (E, 56,743 w., 21 Ch. || Case Fic, Dev. Rel., Anal/Oral, Blow Jobs, Meddling Mycroft, Drama, Romance, Humour, Casual Encounters, Pining Idiots, Possessive Sherlock, Orgasm Delay, Rough / Alley Sex, Public Sex, John Whump, Drugged John, Emotional Love Making, Awkward Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, Switchlock) – The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair. Whilst you're in bed. Part 1 of Nitroglycerine

One Little Change by jadztone (E, 58,312 w., 12 Ch. || ASiB Divergence, Fake Relationship, Bed Sharing, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bi John / Gay Demisexual Sherlock, Switchlock, Alternating POV, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Case Fic, Angst with Happy Ending, Emotional Love Making, Butt Plugs, Cuddles) – Our story begins right after John and Sherlock's first meeting with Irene Adler in September. It splits off into an AU that imagines them taking a case where they act as bait to hook a killer targeting closeted gays in secret relationships. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, many things happen that have our boys wondering if maybe they have a chance with each other. Then Irene fakes her death on Christmas Eve, and things get a lot more complicated - especially since they still have a killer to catch.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

floating through a dark blue sky by Lediona (M, 58,966 w., 15 Ch. || Notting Hill AU || POV John, Celebrity Sherlock, First Date / Time / Kiss, Past Drug Addiction, Angst with a Happy Ending) – Of course, I’d seen his films and always thought he was, well, brilliant -- but, you know, a million miles from the world I live in. Or, when John is the owner of a travel book shop and the famous Sherlock Holmes stops in one day.

The Book of Silence by SilentAuror (E, 60,056 w., 2 Ch. || S4 Fix It / Post S4, Virgin Sherlock, Rosie / Parentlock, Domesticity, Fluff, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, First Person POV) – As spring blooms in London, John and Sherlock begin to take new cases and cautiously negotiate this new phase of life with John living at Baker Street again. Despite how well it's all going, John struggles to forgive himself for the way he treated Sherlock following Mary’s death as well as trying to figure out how to finally put his long-time feelings for Sherlock into words. Part 1 of The Book of Silence/Rosa Felicia

Scars by SilentAuror (E, 60,494 w., 5 Ch. || Rape / Non-Con / Abuse, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Dub Con Elements, Homophobia, Angst With Happy Ending, Mary is Not Nice) – S3 rewrite, showing Mary’s manipulation of John as he realizes his love for Sherlock. Mary is not having it.

The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...

White Knight by DiscordantWords (M, 69,840 w., 13 Ch. || S4 Compliant/Post S4, Marriage For a Case, Jealous John, Pining John, Janine / Sherlock Fake Relationship, Serial Killers, Case Fic, Undercover as a Couple, Weddings, John is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, Jealousy, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

Secrets and Revelations by Hisstah (E, 83,535 w., 9 Ch. || Sentinel / Guides Omegaverse AU || Adventure, Violence, Anal / Oral, Omega!John / Alpha!Sherlock, Case Fic, Politics, Mild DubCon) – Dr John Watson has some major secrets that he's kept from his flatmate, Alpha Sentinel Sherlock Holmes. Now the Sentinel Tower is after him. Can John stay out of their hands until he can reveal his secrets to Sherlock? Part 1 of Secrets and Revelations

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other, John’s Self Esteem Issues) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”

The Cost of a Wish by slashscribe (E, 102,493 w., 12 Ch. || xxxHolic Fusion || Spirits / Ghosts and Magic, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Soul Mates / Fated Lovers, Adventure, Immortal Sherlock, Powerful John, POV John, Frottage, Wish Granting, Angst with Happy Ending, Nightmares) – John has been plagued by a secret his entire life that has made him feel hopeless until he meets a mysterious, seemingly omniscient man named Sherlock Holmes who owns a wish-granting shop. Their meeting sets off a series of inevitable events that will change the course of both of their lives forever.

Maintenance and Repair by patternofdefiance (E, 106,650 w., 71 Ch. || Future AU, Augmentation || Augmented John, Depression, Body Modification, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Sci-Fi, Self-Care, Body Dysmorphia) – John wants to explain the rush of sensation and data, which is just another form of sensation (or is it the other way around?). John wants to say: Augmentation circuits report temperature, pressure, various forms of quantitative input. Sudden changes are reported as pain, since sudden changes are dangerous, and pain is the quickest way to encourage reflexive extraction. But all John can manage is, “Nng.” Because this sudden touch is not reporting as pain. Part 2 of STATIC

A Study in Winning by Jupiter_Ash (E, 106,658 w., 11 Ch. || Tennis AU || John POV, Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Happy Ending, Sherlock Speaks French, Switchlock, Wimbledon) – John and Sherlock are professional tennis players and it’s Wimbledon. One is a broken almost was at the end of his career, the other an arrogant rising star tipped for greatness. It should have been a straightforward tournament. It really should have been. How were they to know that a chance encounter would change everything? Part 1 of Tennis

Shatter the Darkness (Let the Light In) by MojoFlower (E, 109,683 w., 23 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Genie/Djinn AU || Magical Realism, Kidnapping, Genie Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Case Fic, H/C, Angst, Clubs, John Whump, Mild DubCon, Hand / Blow Jobs, Torture) – Fairy tales are for those who remember how to dream; not John Watson, broken and hiding from his bleak future in a beige bedsit. But then he discovers a lamp and finds himself in the dangerous riptide of an enigmatic man whose very existence is unbelievable, murder charges against his sister, and the growing pains of feeling alive once more.

The Burning Heart by May_Shepard (M, 119,150 w., 21 Ch. || Canon Divergence, Post-TRF, John’s Sexuality, S3 Rewrite, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV John Watson, John’s Gay) – When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men. Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #insecure john #my fic recs #Anonymous #long post

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yslkook · 3 years

Text

sonder

pairing: taehyung x reader (exes au) summary: sonder: the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own. or

“What am I about to say?”

“That nothing has worked out for you since we dated, because even though the women you date are all wonderful, all you see in them is me,” You exhale, “I might have to kick you out if you say something as predictable as that.”

word count: 3459 warnings: alcohol, smut (penetrative sex, oral f receiving, tae is possessive for like half a second, some tears) a/n: inspired by these pictures of taehyung. also if this feels rushed, that was on purpose- i wanted to make them kinda messy

Your second whiskey of the evening burns something bitter in the back of your throat, but you welcome it. It’s a welcome respite from the shitty week you’ve had, but that’s besides the point.

One of your favorite things to do to unwind after a tough week is to people watch, and one of your favorite places to do so was at the bars near your apartment. You liked to create vivid stories for these people that walked through the bar- who they were, what their backstories were. It was an amusing game to you, and even if both Yoongi and Hobi told you that you needed a better hobby, you’d only scoff at them.

Speaking of, Yoongi was supposed to be joining you soon. But apparently he’s running late. About fifteen minutes late, according to his cryptic text from earlier:

yoongi: running late, im bringing a friend

You think nothing of it, not really. And you just sip on your whiskey, watching a pair of new faces walk through the door from your stealthy booth in the corner of the bar.

You should’ve known that when Yoongi had said he was bringing a friend, it meant Taehyung. You briefly remember Yoongi telling you that Taehyung had moved back to the city a few weeks ago.

Taehyung, who had moved away halfway across the world years ago as a novice in the art history world. Taehyung, who had broken your delicate heart and taken pieces of it with him more than five years ago.

But even so, you harbor no ill feelings towards the man. He did what he had to do, and you did as well. It’s been so long now, that he should almost be a stranger to you.

Yoongi watches the way your lips part in surprise at the sight of Taehyung- he knows there are still lingering feelings, maybe a lack of closure. Maybe something else that you don’t feel like discussing or diving into. You send him a hearty death glare his way but Yoongi ignores it.

You and Taehyung are nothing if not stubborn. Taehyung hasn’t stopped asking about you since he moved back to the city.

After all, you’ve hardly dated since Taehyung broke up with you. You had sincerely, genuinely believed that he was your one and only, your forever. It just hadn’t felt right, not with anyone else. So you just stopped, not wanting to force love with people if your heart really wasn’t in it.

And now, Taehyung is standing in front of you, dressed in expensive black from head to toe, looking as if he had just walked off of the runway before meeting up with Yoongi. His hair is longer than you ever remembered it being, two small silver hoops in his ears.

Handsome. He looks healthy and warm. He looks good.

You clear your throat and wave at both of them, opening your arms for a hug. Yoongi’s hug is brief, you see the man at least once or twice a week, but you pinch his waist for ambushing you like this. You gasp softly when Taehyung wraps his arms around you. You’d apparently forgotten how his body just fits into yours. Even after all this time.

It truly hasn’t been that long, but it feels like it.

“Hi,” Taehyung breathes into your hair. You should pull away, you really should. You can’t even meet Yoongi’s eyes, too bewitched by the hold that Taehyung somehow still has on you.

You feel as though your heart is running a mile a minute, and yet it feels like you’re greeting an old friend after a long time.

“Taehyung,” You say softly, his name sounding like a ghost of a memory, “It’s been a long time.”

You sit in your booth and Taehyung sits next to Yoongi. It feels like three old friends catching up after a while, not like if two exes are sitting with their mutual best friend trying not to catch glimpses of the other.

You take a sip of your drink with shaky hands. It’s going to be a long night.

At some point during the evening, Yoongi claims that Hoseok has an emergency and that he has to go. You think he planned this (both him and Hobi), because there’s a meddling glint in his eye that you haven’t seen recently.

You panic, scrambling to somehow get Yoongi to stay, so that you’re not alone with Taehyung. You’re afraid of what you might do or say. Or for what you might not do or say.

And yet, talking to him comes like second nature. Maybe it’s because you have years of history between the both of you, even if you haven’t spoken in the last five.

It hurt so much. When he broke up with you, you mourned the loss of your best friend. He had said you could try to be friends, but you couldn’t handle it at the time. And then more time went by… and suddenly, he was barely a thought in your passing mind. Yet, he still lingered, in your mannerisms. Maybe some part of you was still waiting on him. Which wasn’t healthy… But it wasn’t hurting anyone. And besides, you were okay. But you had never really believed in soulmates until Taehyung. Perhaps it was the lack of closure.

At least that’s what you convinced yourself, because seeing Taehyung like this, laughing and talking to you as if no time has past throws you for a loop.

Mainly because… it’s so easy to fall into conversation with him. It’s so easy to laugh with him and make him laugh. You enjoy learning about everything he’s been up to over the last few years, all of his adventures, the sights he’s seen. How enthusiastic he is, how he finds beauty in everything.

You both had always been such good friends. Maybe that’s what you miss more than anything. Somehow, hours go by and you both are left to be the only ones in the bar-

“Hey what brought you here to begin with?” Taehyung asks, holding the door open for you, “Had a bad day? You still like people watching?”

“Yeah,” You say wistfully, “Something like that.”

He squeezes your shoulder in reassurance. You catch his eyes in the streetlights and feel your heart swell.

Even if it’s been more than five years since you saw Taehyung last, since you felt his fingers thread in between yours… it still feels so familiar. It’s funny, isn’t it? How so much time can go by, how you can be strangers on paper but feel like you’ve known his soul for this entire time.

His smile glows in the moonlight. A light breeze cradles him, carding through his dark strands of hair gently. You can vividly recall a time when it was you- your fingers running through his hair through soft laughs and unkept promises.

You wonder if your heart is still his, after all this time. It’s not as if you’ve had many people to compare your all-consuming five year relationship to in the last few years. Every person you met, you found yourself comparing to your ex-boyfriend. It wasn’t healthy.

And you had known that he had moved on from your own mutual friends. You don’t even know if he’s single right now, but you knew he was in a relationship a year ago… Or maybe two? Maybe you should care a little more, but you’ll blame it on the whiskey for causing you to squeeze his hand a little harder and lean into him.

Taehyung looks exactly the same, he feels exactly the same as he did when you were twenty-two and stupid enough to believe that you would make it. He’s always felt like he fit the messy edges of your soul perfectly, and even now, you feel that familiar warmth of his soul rubbing up against yours.

Even as he’s chatting away, eyes crinkling in genuine happiness, you’re hardly listening. You’re only thinking about how nice he feels next to you.

Serendipity. It must be serendipity, for him to show up in your life again when you had been teetering on the edge of misery and self-deprecation. Your head is jumbled, brain filled with nothing but sweet memories of him and your heart is aching for something you might never have again.

But all you have is now. So when Taehyung twirls you easily and sways with you under the dimmed light of a street lamp, pulling a surprised laugh out of you, you make your decision.

“Where’s your new big girl apartment?” Taehyung asks, a hint of longing in his tone.

“It’s not new,” You scoff, “But I live, like, five blocks away.”

Taehyung takes your hand in his again, asking you questions about your apartment. How you found it, do you like it, do you have roommates. To which you shrug and tell him that you like being alone. Something shifts in his eyes, something sad. He recalls your thirst for life when you both had been together- always ready to try something new, always wanting to be around people, always dreaming with your head in the sky.

He wonders what changed. You’re so quiet, eyes a little dark, shoulders tense. Maybe that’s what growing up is. Maybe that’s what tumbling out of your early twenties and into your late twenties is.

Or maybe you’ve just changed in general. It’s been a long time, after all. Since you both mutually broke up, since he moved halfway across the globe.

But still, he catches sparks, flutters of embers in your gaze. He catches the tender, playful excitement that you’ve always held near and dear to your heart- it’s what made you and him such a good team years ago.

Talking to him is so easy, not that you thought it would be difficult to begin with. It’s always been easy with him, easy to laugh with him, easy to love him.

The front door of your apartment building comes into view. Your hand is still in his. Taehyung hesitates on letting you go, but he does.

“It was nice to see you,” Taehyung murmurs, allowing himself the brush of the back of his hand on your cheekbone, “I mean it.”

“Yeah. I’m glad I ran into you, too. Even if I was stuffing my face with whiskeys,” You grin and lean into his touch, “Even if Yoongi probably played both of us.”

“Don’t know when you became such a whiskey girl.”

“It’s been years, Taehyung. I’m sure I’ve got a few more surprises for you,” You say, smile falling into something more intense, “Wanna come find out what they are?”

“Thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.”

Taehyung’s lips are on yours the minute you close the door to your apartment. His hands are molded to your hips over your clothes and you instantly moan into his mouth loudly, slipping your tongue past his lips eagerly. Drinking him up as if he’s been yours to drink up this entire time.

You fumble with the buttons of his peacoat, nearly ready to yank the buttons off. Patience has never been your strong suit, but you just want to feel him.

But the minute you pull away for air, you re-center yourself. No matter how enticing his bitten lips are…

“Are you single?” You ask bluntly.

“Why?” Taehyung says with an arch of his stupidly perfect eyebrow, “You falling in love with me again?”

“Shut up, you wish. I thought you had a girlfriend,” You say pointedly, toeing out of your heels and hanging your jackets up in the coat closet.

“You keeping tabs on me? I knew it,” Taehyung says, looking a little too smug about it.

“Shut the fuck up,” You swat his chest, “Yoongi may have mentioned it to me once or twice.”

More like he told you multiple times when you were drunk, wasted and crying over Taehyung because you never truly got over him. In some corner of the deepest part of your heart, you never got over him.

“I’m not dating anyone. Or talking, seeing anyone,” Taehyung shrugs, “That didn’t work out. Nothing’s really worked out, not since…”

“Don’t say it,” You mutter, “Don’t say what I think you’re about to say.”

You need another drink. So you pour yourself another hefty glass of whiskey and pour one out for him, too.

“What am I about to say?”

“And if it’s true?”

“Then I’m definitely kicking you out. Might need another five years to see you again,” You whisper. He moves closer to you, tentatively holding your hips in his. You don’t push him away, only looking up at him with wide eyes.

“I missed you so fucking much,” Taehyung breathes into your hair, wrapping you in a hug, “You have no idea. And you? Are you single?”

“No, you missed the idea of me. Of us,” You mumble, but you’re unable to pull out of his hold, “We were young, we had dreams… And yeah, I’m single.”

“We could’ve made it work-”

“Taehyung, stop it,” You mutter, throat going dry with barely concealed yearning for him, “We both made the choices we made for a reason. You’re here and I’m here for a reason. Don’t wanna talk about what if’s with you anymore. Just kiss me, Taehyung-”

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice, cupping your face in his big hands and pressing his soft lips to yours instantly. Time feels like nothing between you both, but it feels like he’s trying to learn this new version of you through your kiss.

You’re undecided on whether this is a one time thing, but all you know is that you want him. And you want him now. His hands are warm over your thighs as he lifts you up in his arms, your chest plastered to his. His hair has gotten longer, dark strands effortlessly falling into his forehead.

He’s so handsome and you swoon when his lips press against your neck. Taehyung still remembers what you like, what your favorite spots are.

It’s almost as if no time has passed. You both ignore it, ignore the nostalgia creeping into the crevices of your kisses.

“Mmm, my bedroom’s that way,” You mumble hoarsely, pulling away with hooded eyes.

“You’ll have to give me a proper tour later,” Taehyung says, his voice somehow even deeper.

“Yeah, you’d be so lucky,” You snort and Taehyung shuts you up with another searing kiss. He doesn’t miss the meticulous way you’ve decorated your cozy home, pops of color and decorations that are so very you in every corner. He sees a small photo collage in the corner of your bedroom.

Once upon a time, a photo of you and him would’ve been the crown jewel.

“Tae,” You mumble, “Stop, focus on me. I want you-”

So he does.

Your legs close around Taehyung’s head, his tongue slipping into your glossy folds for the third time that evening. He can’t get enough of your soft noises, even when you’re telling him it’s too much, you widen your legs for him to slot in between them easily. Taehyung hikes your legs over his shoulder, nearly rutting into the bed at the sight of your quivering bottom lip and the way your tits bounce.

He palms you lewdly, squeezing and pinching. “You’re so wet,” Taehyung moans into your pussy, “Fuck, baby-”

“Taehyung,” You breathe, voice sounding broken even to your own ears, “I want you, I want your cock…”

“You sure you want this?” Taehyung asks, his voice strained.

“Yeah,” You nod eagerly, “Do you?”

With a nod, “Do you have condoms?” He rasps, nose nudging your clit.

“Y-yeah,” You moan, “The nightstand, first drawer. Brand new box, never before used-”

“Really?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow, “When was the last time, baby?”

“The last time what,” You whine, tugging on his forearm.

“Last time you had sex,” Taehyung says, pulling the box out from your nightstand.

“Uhhh… when you broke up with me?” You shrug sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Shit,” He groans, “Seriously?”

You don’t miss how he palms himself over his pants at your words. He’s always had a hint of possessiveness in him, and you already know that he’s trying to process that the last person, the only person to have ever seen you like this was him.

“Yeah, I didn’t have luck the way you did, I guess,” You say lightly, “Not that I was trying very hard, though.”

“Damn, baby, nobody’s been loving you right, huh?” Taehyung says, pulling out a condom from the box with shaky hands.

“Yeah. Not even you,” You say. Maybe that was mean, but his eyes flash at you in warning.

“Come here,” He says, a soft demand, “Did you miss me?”

You shrug playfully and unbutton his pants for him. He swats your roaming hands away and they land on his belly, your nails scratching lazily. Taehyung has always looked like a vision, but seeing him like this, hovering above you with golden, tanned skin and his jaw locked, looking every bit like the man of your dreams...

He commands, demands respect. Your pussy throbs just from the sight of him shucking off his pants and his boxers in one go, tugging his hard and heavy cock roughly with one hand.

You swear you drool. Your head is empty, only thoughts of him, his big hands, broad shoulders-

“Did you miss me, baby,” Taehyung asks again, voice a little rougher, a little harsher.

“Does it matter,” You challenge him, “You only want my pussy-”

“And you only want my cock-”

“So give it to me then. Since you know me so well,” You sneer. You gasp in surprise when he swats your thigh and then moan his name when he pushes the head of his cock into you without much warning.

“You talk so fucking much,” Taehyung breathes, cupping your cheeks with one hand.

“Shit,” You gasp, “You’re so fucking big-”

You squeeze your eyes shut and Taehyung stills inside of you, giving you time to adjust to him. He peppers sweet kisses over your forehead, a contrast to his previous words. You cannot believe that somehow, Taehyung is back in your bed, his cock buried deep within you.

The thought makes your eyes water. You’re a little overwhelmed.

“What’s wrong,” Taehyung asks when he sees your wet eyes, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Nothing, you’re just so big,” You mumble, avoiding his eyes. Taehyung looks at you suspiciously but says nothing.

He’s the only one who’s ever had you like this. The thought makes something in his belly flare, the urge to leave bruises on your welcoming hips and pound into your wet pussy growing and growing with each second.

But he doesn’t move, not until you give him the okay. Taehyung’s fingers are tight around your hips, loose around your neck, his lips plastered to any inch of skin he can reach. With the first rock of his hips into you, you wrap your legs around his waist and shudder in his arms.

He nuzzles your neck, chest plastered against yours. Your nails are tightly pressed into his biceps, surely leaving marks for tomorrow morning. Your soft cries of his name sound like sweet rapture, something he’s been searching for for years. Or something that he had and something he let go of.

And then he wonders how he ever spent the last few years not buried in your pussy, when you feel something like home to him.

“You know, I moved back here a few weeks ago,” Taehyung says, turning on his side to face you, hands gentle over your chest.

“Oh, I know. Yoongi and Hobi wouldn’t shut up about it. They really missed you,” You reply, not meeting his eyes.

“And you? Did you?” Taehyung asks again. You hesitate.

“Does it matter, Taehyung?” You mumble, brushing his hair away from his eyes, “Does it change anything?”

“It could. If you wanted it to,” He murmurs, pulling you into his chest. His fingers are light over your spine, but you scoff.

“Don’t say shit like that,” You sigh, pressing your hand to his face.

He only laughs with his big, bright smile and pulls you in closer, kissing your forehead. “I can leave you know. If you want me to. If this is... weird.”

“I think we’re way past weird, Taehyung. If I wanted you to leave, I would’ve kicked you out by now,” You say easily and ignore the way his smile sends unfamiliar butterflies through your belly, “Go to sleep. I’ll decide if I wanna kick you out in the morning.”

#taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung fic

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metize · 2 years

Text

Haggling with Erwin

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: N/A

Relationships: Erwin Pries/GN!Reader

Additional Tags: Gender-neutral Reader, Reader-Insert, Strangerville resident reader, Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, First Time Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, Mutual Pining, Semi-Public Sex, First Time, Not Beta Read

Words: 1 251

Summary:

“That will be 100§ buuut I’m feeling generous you can have it for 50% off.”

“Oh? How generous do you have to feel to give it to me for free?” You teased him and took your backpack off to grab your wallet, not really meaning to steal from the poor guy.

“Ha! You’d have to-” He stopped himself short and cleared his throat before looking away. Was he blushing? “I’d- I’d have to be in a really good mood, that’s for sure…”

You suck off Erwin for a Lava Lamp

You’re coming back home from the Strangerville Library from a long study session. For once you felt more than prepared for your upcoming final exam, the trip there should pay off really well. It was even worth the occasional bumping into a couple of possessed neighbors and having to try your best to avoid eye contact.

Maybe it would be easier to just move to Britechester and live in the university dorms. But you just couldn’t bring yourself to leave Strangerville. You were far too attached to your bizarre little hometown.

While you crossed the Plaza you saw the Curio shop in the distance so you figured you’d head over and say hi to your favorite conspiracy theorist.

“Hey Erwin, how’s business?” you greeted him as you approached the stall.

“Y/N!” The redhead beamed and adjusted his colander helmet before clearing his throat. “Y/N, hi. Oh you know, not too bad. A teenager down the street got a lava lamp, tried to push some books on him, but I guess he wasn’t feeling ready for the truth.” Erwin shrugged but you could tell he was a bit frustrated about it.

“Ah! That reminds me” You mentioned “my cat broke mine the other day.”

“Oh, that must have been a pain to clean up.” He cringed “But! You’ll be happy to know I still have them in stock, all the colors too.” He motioned to the lamps with a smile.

You took a look at them. You had bought the last one years ago, it had lasted a good while before your cat felt like testing gravity. You had gotten the yellow one, but you decided you’d change it up a bit.

“Let’s go with the purple one, to match the Strangerville flora.” You joked, but saw your friend shake his head disapprovingly.

“Don’t even joke about those, that shit’s serious.” He huffed and started packaging the lamp “If you get your hands on those fruits, give them to me as soon as you can. They release stuff if you keep them on you for too long. And don’t…!”

“Don’t eat any, I know, I know. I learned my lesson from last time.” You laughed. You had spent a good part of 3 hours possessed last year from having a morbid curiosity. “You worry too much.”

“You worry too little. You’re not even wearing your tinfoil hat, don’t come complaining to me when you start getting headaches from the Lab pollution.” He handed you over a plastic bag with your purchase. “That will be 100§ buuut I’m feeling generous you can have it for 50% off.”

“Oh? How generous do you have to feel to give it to me for free?” You teased him and took your backpack off to grab your wallet, not really meaning to steal from the poor guy.

“Ha! You’d have to-” He stopped himself short and cleared his throat before looking away. Was he blushing? “I’d- I’d have to be in a really good mood, that’s for sure…”

No way. Who would’ve thought Erwin would have such thoughts, you’d tease him about it but you were busy feeling flustered yourself. The arid desert of Strangerville had nothing on your face in terms of hotness at this point. You both stayed in silence for a couple of beats, neither feeling brave enough to break it yet, until you managed to say something before Erwin started apologizing profusely.

“I could definitely help with that.” You jumped over the counter and heard him gasp at the sudden intrusion in his work space.

“W-wait Y/N, come on, I didn’t mean it, you don’t have to do th-” He rambled nervously while you kneeled down and laid your hands on his thighs.

“I… kind of want to, if that’s okay?” You questioned, looking up at him hoping he did mean it.

“Are you… Are you kidding me, Y/N? Of course it’s okay! It’s more than okay!” He said enthusiastically and breathing heavily as he watched you under him. “Have you s-seen yourself?”

You smiled and pressed the palm of your hand on the bulge of his pants, he flattered you for sure and you knew it was genuine because he was semi-hard under the fabric. You started unbuttoning his pants but you were interrupted by Erwin making quick work of them himself. His hands were frantic as he got his jeans and underwear down to his knees, fully exposing his dick to you.

You grabbed his length giving it a few strokes before putting it in your mouth. You gently sucked on the tip, feeling him grow harder under your touch. Erwin watched you intently, nervously biting his lip as you licked a stripe on the underside of his length. He let out a groan as you fully swallowed him down.

"F-fuck… Y/N…" He cursed when you started bobbing your head. "Ah… your mouth feels so good, it's so warm, fuck… it's so much, so much better than what I imagined."

He had imagined this before? You pressed your legs together to ease the arousal building inside you. Had he thought of you as he touched himself? The scene of Erwin jerking off to the thought of you was so hot, you couldn't help but moan around his cock. You wanted to hear about it, you pulled him out your mouth and slowly jerked him with your hand.

"Tell me what you imagined." You asked.

"No way… I'll… f-fuck… I'll come too soon."

"Isn't that the point? Please, I wanna hear it." You pressed on before getting back to sucking him off.

"F-fine… I thought of… touching you" he moaned and you felt him reflexively buck his hips into your mouth. "And… holding you and you'd r-ride my dick and… make yourself cum… fuck…" he went on, cursing under his breath before you felt him getting more desperate.

You moved your head faster, the obscene noises your mouth made as you sucked him off were drowned out by Erwin's grunts. He grabbed the back of your head, clearly needing something to hold onto, you noticed he started retrieving his hand feeling embarrassed, but you pulled his hand back to where it was, encouraging him to hold and maybe tug on your hair if he felt courageous enough.

"Y/N, fuck… feels so good, I can't. I can't. I'm-" He groaned and you felt his cock twitch and spray cum down your throat with a final thrust of his hips before pulling out and letting some of it stain your face.

His breath was ragged, his body shook a couple more times with the aftershock. You sat there patiently while he recovered for a second.

"Y/N… shit… sorry." He fixed himself and got down on the floor with you. He grabbed a tissue from a box under the counter and pressed it to clean your face.

"Thanks Erwin" you smiled at him, his face was flushed and sweaty which was kind of a look on him.

"Thank me? No, thank you, Y/N! You… I… this…" he struggled and tried to gesture his way through this conversation. "You're… You're amazing. We should…" he finished wiping your face and looked away "Do this again sometime?"

You couldn't help but giggle. He was acting like a teenager asking you on a date for the first time as if you hadn't just given him a blowjob. You leaned closer and gave him a peck on the lips.

"Yeah, we should."

#erwin pries #strangerville #nsft #smut fanfiction #sims 4 premades #sims 4 erwin #ts4 premades #ts4 strangerville

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that-bi-bitch-writes · 3 years

Text

A Cursed Reality-JJK x M!Reader (Ch.2)

Question: Do you guys prefer longer chapters or shorter chapters? I’ve been making an effort to write longer chapters but if you hate reading them I’ll write them less.

Warnings: fluff, comparison of Inumaki’s speech to a disability/handicap, cursing. Dislike of Maki (Not me. wrong bitch. I love her)

Previous || Next

Chapter Two:

[Name] actively dislikes hanging out with the second years. Not that they’re bad people in any way, it’s just he’s anxious and awkward, and even after spending a year familiarizing himself with the school and the people in it, there’s like a small group of people he would invite to his birthday party.

That and he just doesn’t care for Maki Zen’in. And it is most definitely mutual. To him, she’s just pretty. She also won’t die in a battle between her and a curse below first grade. But that’s about the end of her appeal. Of course, Panda is fun to tease but he typically plays the peacemaker between the second years. [Name] would rather not care about people in peace.

There’s no dramatic reason to it all, it’s just [Name] didn’t really come to Jujutsu Tech by choice so he hadn’t intended on making friends. He obviously failed considering he befriended Inumaki within his first day and they have some homoromantic vibes going on in their friendship.

That’s not to say you can’t platonic cuddle with your best friend but when you longingly gaze into each other’s eyes and he’s the only friend you’ve made besides an annoyingly hyper 30-year-old because no one else understands you like he does… And it kind of goes both ways considering you’re the only person he trusts himself enough to have a full-on conversation with.

Yeah, it’s not looking very good for the argument that they’re not gay. They’re not though. At least not now.

“[Name]”

“Yeah toge?”

“You look like you’ve got something on your mind” Inumaki responded. And although he had plenty of experience saying words, having a conversation without using safe words felt a little weird. It was an aspect of who he was now and [Name] being immune to the cursed speech wouldn’t erase the problems he had with talking and it didn’t make [Name] his savior or soulmate.

Luckily [Name] was both lonely and not a complete asshole because he had no problems adapting to the switch between Toge’s ‘onigiri glossary’. Learning it was actually a really fun experience because it turns out Inumaki did not have the exact translation of all his safe words. He would just say an ingredient and [Name] had to fill in the blanks. There was a lot of trial and error and a lot of [Name] smiling down at Inumaki’s concentrated face.

“I was just thinking.” [Name] broke the contemplative silence.

“Hmm”

“You know” [Name] started again “... They say it was believed people kept their souls in their throats” and as Inumaki gave a confused denial (“fish flakes”) [Name] was internally panicking on whether or not he should keep going with this specific train of thought or make a joke to deflect from the very real and emotional but corny statement he was about to utter.

“Ah fuck it. I want to exercise the curses in the world or at least enough to keep you safe so you don’t keep damaging your soul when you use your cursed technique”

“Sujiko”

[Name] looked at Inumaki. And as if breaking off pieces of his soul didn’t matter to him, Inumaki spoke, a short sentence that stunned [Name] into silence

“I love you”

If Gojo hadn’t come in, they might’ve kissed.

“[Name]-kun!!!”

Aaaand [Name]’s sentimental mood was gone. Don’t get him wrong, Gojo definitely would get an invite to [Name]’s birthday party, but the man was like 30 running around being overly cheerful and with that teasing nature he was definitely repressing some trauma. He also definitely had some of the worst timing

“What is it Gojo?”

“No sensei at the end? So mean!

“Fushiguro was sent out to find a cursed object but he’s been out all day with no calls back home or anything. Of course I plan on going to check on my beloved student, but I am busy for the next hour or so. Can you please check on him? For your favorite sensei?”

“My favorite sensei is actually Nanami and he’s not even a sensei but yeah I’ll check on the emo kid”

‘You’re pretty emo yourself dude’ Gojo thought to himself

“Ah Thank you [Name]-kun. You’re a lifesaver” Gojo called out behind him as he left to do whatever it is crazy white haired ‘old’ men do.

‘He’s/I’m totally not doing this for free’ both [Name] and Inumaki thought at the same time.

[Name] got up suddenly and started getting ready to leave paying no attention to Inumaki who watched him get ready with a casual interest. Before [Name] headed out, he turned to look at Inumaki with a serious and concentrated expression.

“Toge.”

“I love you”

“What the hell happened here?”

“....”

“Fushiguro-kun, if you please”

“Well I only know half of the story so it’s best if we hear it from Itadori”

All eyes whipped to the shirtless Yuji who had just gotten control of his body back from Sukuna, the apparent king of curses.

“I’d say it started when I went to school this morning but I think it started a little earlier for Fushiguro. Right Fushiguro?” Yuji asked

‘I swear I’m going to explode if someone doesn’t tell me the how we got this far I mean Fushiguro is bleeding from his head, this pink haired enthusiastic kid is possessed and I can’t tell if he’s too sweet to care or if he lost a few of his brain cells when he and the little emo first year wrecked this building’ [Name] thought to himself.

Clearing his throat he began “Well okay Fushiguro has a lot of really bad injuries so is it okay with you if he just quickly shares his part and then you take over?”

“Ohh Yeah that makes sense” Itadori awed and both he and [Name] turned their attention to poor Megumi who was bleeding from his forehead.

“Yesterday I was sent to retrieve a special grade cursed object and when I got there it was gone. Gojo sensei told me I couldn’t go home until it was recovered. The next day I stalked around the school and investigated when I saw Yuji for the first time.”

“Oh I remember that. It’s my turn to take over now. Uhh. I was in the occult club with my senpais Sasaki and Iguchi and we were asking the spirits about which animal the Student Council President was weaker than ( a fish) and then he burst in the room because he didn’t approve of our club-”

“Fast forward please” [Name] interrupted

“Fushiguro found me after my grandpa died and told me Iguchi and Sasaki were in danger because of the finger so I led him to the school where they said they were going to peel off the seal”

“And that’s why we’re here” [Name] surmised

“So what’s the situation”

“Gojo-sensei”/ “Old Man what are you doing here?” Megumi and [Name] called out

“I wasn’t gonna come but the higher ups got involved. I knew you’d all be fine though, I sent [Name] here to deal with it.”

“That’s true” Fushiguo mumbled

“I’m glad you all have faith in me” [Name] started “But that means I came here for absolutely nothing”

“... So did you find it?” Gojo asked

“Um sorry.... I ate it”

Gojo who didn’t hear the whole introduction and [Name] who didn’t quite get to the eating of the finger part in the story turned to Yuji in shock

“For real”

“Haha you’re not kidding. They’re combined. How does your body feel?” Gojo asked Yuji

“Okay”

“Can you switch to Sukuna?”

“Sukuna?” Yuji asked

“The curse object you ate”

“Oh yeah. Probably”

“Ten seconds” gojo said “Take control again after ten seconds”

“I dunno about this”

“Don’t worry. I’m the strongest Jujutsu sorcerer”

Megumi looked to [Name] after hearing a curious “hmm” but [Name]’s face showed no anger or displeasure.

“Megumi hold onto this will ya” Gojo’s voice bled through Megumi’s thoughts of who would win between [Name] and Gojo. Give it a year or two and it might actually be [Name].

“What’s this?” Megumi asked

‘It better be a fucking weapon’ [Name] thought ‘Because if he sent me out because his important business was shopping he’s gonna regret it’

“Kikufuku Mochi” Gojo replied casually before feeling bloodlust leaking from [Name]. He’ll just have to make it up to the second year somehow

“Behind you” Fushiguro called out and [Name] sucked his teeth hoping Gojo would get hit at least once. He did not get his wish once

“I’ve got a student watching so..I hope you don’t mind if I show off a little bit” . And after that Gojo commenced kicking Sukuna’s ass. Sukuna tried to monologue a little as he sent out a powerful attack, but he missed Gojo on account of Gojo’s infinity dispelling the attack. By the time Sukuna realized Gojo was unharmed it was time for Yuji to switch back.

“Oh was everything okay?” Yuji asked as he came to his senses.

“Oh what a surprise” Gojo responded “You really can control it”

“Yeah, but he’s kind of annoying”

“It’s a miracle that’s the only side effect” Gojo said right before knocking Yuji out with one finger

“If he wakes up and isn't possessed, he might have potential as a vessel. Okay question for you two. What do I do with him?”

“Even if he is a potential vessel… He must be executed under jujutsu regulations…

“But I don’t want to let him die”

“Is that a personal opinion? Gojo asked

“Yes, a personal opinion. Please do something about it.

Gojo smiled and the two of them turned their attention towards [Name] who had been silent throughout the whole experience.

‘Besides being a little too excitable, he’s not bad. Like a puppy. I’d keep him as a pet.’ [Name] thought

“Don’t kill him” he said

“A precious student's request. And one from my favorite second year? Of course. Leave it to me!” Gojo said before lifting Yuji up.

[Name] still a little upset he was called away for nothing, raised his hand in front of his mouth so gojo couldn’t see what he was doing and whispered

“Fall over”

“Aak! [Name]-kunnn”

Fushiguro was shocked to see Gojo faceplant on the ground with Yuji on his shoulder. If the combination of Fushiguro’s wide eyed expression and the sight of Gojo in pain made [Name] giggle a little, he’d never admit it.

#x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #x reader #reader insert #jjk x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #m!reader #male!reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #that-bi-bitch-writes #a cursed reality

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fantasia-monogram · 3 years

Text

As the clock strikes midnight, part 1

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / epilogue

♥️ Taeyang x reader (nonbinary, female anatomy) x Jaeyoon; mentions of other SF9 members

♥️ Suggestive (~2k words); smoking, mentions of alcohol, (lightly) implied BDSM. Mutual pining. Next part is going to be NSFW (and reveal more about the characters’ history).

♥️ You’re a beast at work, having to be tough to climb up the corporate ladder, but what you never thought of is that your attitude might be intimidating to your long time crush. Luckily, your much more laid back friend is here to help... both of you.

♥️ Disclaimer: this is just for fun! I’m not claiming that’s how they are in real life, it’s just my imagination doing whatever it wants. Read at your own discretion.

“Ah, the exciting world of corporate banking.”

You were too tired to check the time, but one look over the room gave you a clear idea of what kind of stage the party has reached: vast office space, with all the desks pushed against the wall and a long table situated in the middle, was littered with barely-sober people, most of them in groups of two or three. The goal was to let coworkers of various titles and positions mingle in a casual manner, as the fairly young company’s hierarchy and employer count was expanding proportionately to its growth - friendly office culture was a staple in this place. Truth was, after a couple drinks (or, in case of some tougher individuals, whole bottles of soju), everyone would group into their regular lunch break cliques, usually within the same department.

Long gone were the days when the business was much smaller, and it was easier for people from different departments to form close bonds.

Luckily, you remembered them very well, and that’s why, as the party was dying down, you shared a (small and not very comfortable) couch with your two best colleagues: Lee Jaeyoon and Yoo Taeyang.

“Look at him. What a fighter,” Jaeyoon said with a hushed voice, pointing his almost full glass of whisky towards another corner of the spacious room. There, behind one of the squished-together desks, Quality Department leader Kim Inseong was still angrily babbling about work-related statistics to the nearly-wasted Training Supervisor, Baek Juho. The latter, with his forehead propped on his hand, kept waving at his superior to stop, as coherent words would not come out of his mouth at this point no matter how hard he tried. Inseong, incredibly professional yet warm and welcoming when sober, would do a total 180° after a single bottle of soju and turn into a snarky bastard ranting at everything going on in the company.

“Supervisor Baek is holding on strong, though,” Taeyang added in a matter-of-fact tone before taking a sip from his glass.

You couldn’t help but cover your mouth and snort with amusement.

The three of you were an unusual group.

You all joined the company on the same day, and underwent basic training for a couple weeks. Even though Jaeyoon was close to your age, the gap between you and Taeyang was much bigger. Add their impressive height and you had to admit, it was awkward to sit between these two guys every single day. Soon enough though, your small talk during short breaks would turn more and more enjoyable, and when the last week rolled in, as the oldest one, you mustered up the courage to invite them to a nearby coffee shop. Formally, you just wanted to celebrate the end of your training stage, but honestly… You grew fond of them, so there was no harm in getting to know them better away from the workplace.

Who knew the three of you would find common ground during that fateful meeting?

“Hey… Y/n… You there?” Jaeyoon’s voice snapped you out of a trip down the memory lane.

“Yeah. What were you saying?” you asked, a bit embarrassed.

“You don’t seem to be having fun at all. I haven’t seen you around the bar even once,” Jaeyoon ranted, haphazardly shaking his glass.

“You know I don’t drink.”, you stated calmly.

“Aish… It’s a party! No need to be so strict. Am I right?”

For some reason, Jaeyoon looked towards Taeyang with a wicked grin, and you followed. The youngest one, sitting by your right side, cleared his throat theatrically.

“I’ll go get myself another one.” he mumbled, already leaving the couch.

“Don’t overdo it!” Jaeyoon yelled, then turned back to you. “You could really use some percents, though. Just saying.”

“I have an image to maintain,” you said quietly, crossing your arms against your chest.

“You dressed like it’s every other day at work, too,” your friend pointed out, “It’s just a different colour.”

You looked at him resentfully. That’s true, tailored suits were your usual look, not just because you simply didn’t like dresses or skirts. It was the easiest way to elongate your silhouette, and you were already lacking in height compared to all the higher-ups attending company meetings with you.

A powerful look was expected from the Compliance Supervisor who rose to that position in a record-breaking time and was nowhere near done career-wise.

Besides, you had to admit, your neat suits in a whole variety of colors boosted your confidence every single day. You had all of them adjusted, so they would accentuate your figure in all the right places. Oh, all the times you and Jaeyoon would shamelessly ask poor Taeyang who’s got the best ass out of you two (“Okay, forget it. Taeyangie does,” Jaeyoon would end the competition each time, making Taeyang cringe).

"You're just jealous because I look better in red than you do," you barked, although lacking any real bite.

"Listen, what I'm trying to say is…" Jaeyoon leaned dangerously close to your ear. "...I don't mind your uniforms, but someone over there is on the brink of losing his mind right now."

You backed off, wide-eyed. Your friend discreetly threw a glance towards Taeyang, who just came back with his glass refilled.

Still dumbfounded, you kept looking back and forth at each of your friends, not realizing how silly it must have looked.

"Did I miss anything?" Taeyang asked, clearly feeling something went down during his absence.

"Yeah, I just said that maybe we should leave this remnant of a party and move somewhere else," Jaeyoon replied, looking over your shoulder at the youngest.

You furrowed your eyebrows, but ultimately decided his idea wasn't that bad after all.

"I don't know… Wouldn't it be rude to leave so early?" Taeyang mused.

"Seokwoo left, like, at 9," Jaeyoon pointed out. "Way before anybody had a chance to get drunk."

"Ah, our lovely Escalation Specialist," you sighed, talking about Kim Seokwoo, your right hand man at the Compliance Department. "You could say the party escalated too much for him."

"At nine!", the older of your friends laughed.

“What time is it anyway?” you asked. It didn’t matter that you could just check it yourself. You were used to people doing things like this for you around this place.

Jaeyoon, who knew it very well, fished his phone out of his shirt pocket.

“Uh… Fifteen to twelve,” he announced.

Taeyang tapped your shoulder.

"Happy early birthday," he threw casually.

Pleasant warmth rose to your cheeks. You were just starting to smile, your eyes crinkling already, when Jaeyoon jumped in his seat, startling both of you.

"Wait, what?!" he yelled, making a few heads turn for a second or two.

"What kind of a friend are you, really?" Taeyang snorted dryly, "It's y/n's birthday tomorrow."

Jaeyoon let out a sound that could best be described as a happy roar and pounced forward in an attempt to give you a bear hug. You dodged it by moving backwards, thus colliding into Taeyang's side.

You briefly glanced at each other, awkwardly nodding as an apology, before he uttered a quick it's fine and slid further into the couch.

"Hey, that hug was supposed to be a present!" Jaeyoon whined, recovering his dignity after the failure.

"Thanks, but no, thanks." you retorted, staying at a safe distance.

"Okay, but now we really have to go somewhere else. This calls for a celebration!" Your overly enthusiastic companion wasn't giving up that easily.

You turned to your other friend.

"Taeyang?"

"That's enough social interaction for today," the boy in question replied, "One more crowded place and I'll pass out on the spot."

He was known for his introverted tendencies; even at work, he occupied a desk that was a bit further from everyone else, guaranteeing him all the peace he needed, and had only one coworker he was somewhat close to apart from you two.

"What about we go to my place instead? I've got no alcohol, but there are plenty of leftovers for a late dinner if you're hungry," you offered instead.

"Sounds like a plan!" Jaeyoon clasped his hands. "I'll pay for the cab."

Taeyang bottomed out his glass.

"Wanna go for a smoke while we wait?"

As soon as you put a cigarette in your mouth, Taeyang was there to light it. You could swear his eyes lingered on your lips, but maybe it was so late that your eyes started pulling tricks on you.

A good five minutes passed of the three of you smoking in silence, enjoying the cool summer breeze and the sight of a nearly full moon above you. Taeyang was the first to finish, with you following. Jaeyoon was the last to end his cigarette, throwing it into the trash can nearby in a somewhat angry manner.

"Taeyang, I can't possibly imagine a better time to tell them than now."

Both you and Taeyang turned your heads towards Jaeyoon.

"Tell what?" you posed a question, confused.

The guys exchanged looks. After that, Taeyang averted his eyes, while Jaeyoon locked his with yours.

"I think he should be the one to explain." Jaeyoon stated firmly.

"It's fine," Taeyang's voice was unexpectedly weak, "I'm fine with you telling them."

You felt your heartbeat quicken all of sudden.

"He's head over heels for you."

And then, it was as if your heart just stopped. No, that couldn't be. Your pretty, soft spoken dongsaeng you always had your eyes on? In love with you?

"No way." you muttered, turning to face Taeyang. He still couldn't bear to look at you. "Is that true?"

Internally, you were screaming for him to say yes.

Poor guy seemed like he was about to get a panic attack, breathing in and out loudly, hands balled into fists. You could see him biting his lips.

"Come on." Jaeyoon ushered, "I did the hard part for you. Now it's your turn."

Taeyang slowly raised his gaze. His doll-like eyes were glazed over with tears - a sight so stunning it almost made you gasp.

"It's true. It's been going on for more than two years now." His voice was quiet, but steady.

You kept staring at his gorgeous, flushed face, unable to say a word. It was a clue for him to continue.

"I knew I had a chance. I'm not stupid. I noticed you treated me differently than Jaeyoon or any other friend at work. But I also knew your no relationships at the workplace policy and your attitude towards age gaps, and decided to keep it to myself."

Your heart was about to burst.

"I'm just as demanding in love as I am at work," you explained, "I'd ruin you."

Jaeyoon circled you. As soon as he stopped, he put his left hand on Taeyang's shoulder, while his right on yours.

"Tell them," he encouraged the younger guy again.

As if on command, there was fire burning in Taeyang's gaze. You felt it consume you as a whole.

"I'm not fragile," the boy declared, “I want to be ruined.”

You thought you were dreaming, but a squeeze of Jaeyoon’s hand on your shoulder anchored you back to reality, this reality being your crush at first sight confessing to you.

“Your confidence… How strict and relentless you are…” Taeyang went on, his voice breaking, “The tone of your voice… And your suits. Oh, your suits. It all turns me on so much.”

“What a guy,” Jaeyoon chuckled, shaking his head.

Both you and Taeyang decided to ignore him for now.

“I repeat,” Taeyang insisted, “I want to be ruined.”

Despite Jaeyoon’s continuous hold on both of you, you reached towards Taeyang’s face to caress his smooth cheeks with the back of your fingers. That was all he needed to surge forward and plant a brief, fluttering kiss on your lips that still managed to leave you with your head spinning, needing more.

“Happy birthday, y/n,” Taeyang whispered, holding his forehead against yours.

It was only then when you realized you were both breathing heavily, even though nothing had happened yet.

The moment was interrupted by the ringtone of Jaeyoon’s phone. At last, the guy ceased his hold on you to check the device.

“Okay, lovebirds, the cab is here. It’s gonna be a fun night.”

You glanced at Jaeyoon, then locked your eyes with Taeyang’s again. He reciprocated your devious smile.

(to be continued)

#sf9 scenarios #sf9 smut #sf9 imagines #yoo taeyang imagine #yoo taeyang scenario #Another long piece of writing...#Please bear with me #As the clock strikes midnight

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imagineyourworld · 3 years

Note

Congratulations!! 2 with Echo please? I'm such a sucker for friends to lovers lol

Hey!

Thank you <3 I already did that prompt for Bad Batch era Echo (you can find it here), but since I love Echo I'll write something short for pre Citadel Echo with the prompt as well.

Love, Charlie

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Echo x Genderneutral!Reader

Warnings: Like one swear word, I think

2. Friends to Lovers

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"It's not that hard. Just say 'Hey (Y/N), wanna go out tonight?' You can do it", Fives told his brother, an encouraging hand on his shoulder and a grin on his face. He was tired of his brother and their mutual friend (Y/N), a secretary of Senator Amidala, dancing around each other and neither of them admitting their feelings, which is why he had spent the last couple of days trying to convince Echo to finally ask you out. "Are you sure that's what I should say? Doesn't it seem a bit... I don't know... simple? They deserve something more special", Echo mumbled, doubt clear in his voice. Fives shook his head. It really was adorable how much Echo wanted to get this right, but all that mattered now was that he asked you out, no matter how. "Echo, vod, they'll say yes no matter how you ask them out. (Y/N) likes you, trust me." Echo still looked a little uncertain, but he nodded. Fives knew that his brother trusted him, the trust had been proven multiple times on the battlefield and off, but when it came to you his mind was full of doubt. "Maybe bring some flowers or chocolate if it helps", Fives suggested as a last attempt to finally get his brother to just do as he's been told. This seemed to be the last straw. Echo nodded, now a little more enthusiastic, and with one last squeeze to his shoulder Fives decided to leave him alone, partly because he knew Echo would need some time alone to prepare to face you, partly because he needed a drink after dealing with a tough mission and his love sick brother.

-------

Fives, along with Hardcase and Jesse, sat in a booth at 79s, nursing a drink and wondering how your date might be going. But the instant Jesse spoke up he regretted his thoughts, as if they had summoned you here. "Isn't that Echo and your Senator friend?", Jesse asked, pointing right at the two of you. Fives only shook his head. He didn't bother pointing out that you weren't a Senator but a secretary, too busy asking himself how the kriff the two of you had ended up at 79s on what was your first date. Just as he was about to excuse himself from the table to give Echo a stern talking to, and maybe you as well, you noticed the clones in their booth and pulled Echo towards them. "There you guys are. I'm sorry we're late, but Echo, being the sweetheart he is, brought me flowers and I had to get them home and into water first." Jesse and Hardcase looked at Echo in surprise. Fives had told them that he was supposed to be on a date and they were no doubt wondering what he was doing in the clone bar instead. "Do you guys want another round? My treat", you offered, looking at everyone, though Fives noticed that your gaze lingered on Echo just a little longer. Apparently the clone in question noticed it as well, because colour began to rise to his cheeks. Fives saw his chance to talk to you alone and ask you why you weren't currently on a date with Echo, so he agreed to help you order and deliver everyone's drinks. "What are you doing here?", he asked as soon as the two of you stopped in front of the bar. He soon noticed that his tone might have been a bit too harsh, because his words seemed to hurt you. Great start to the conversation. "That's not what I meant", he apologized quickly. "I mean why aren't you on your date with Echo." The hurt was quickly replaced by embarrassment and confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about", you said as you leaned against the counter. Fives sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. You seemed sincere, which could mean two things: either Echo had chickened out in the last moment or you had misunderstood his proposal. "When Echo came to you and brought you the flowers, what exactly did he say?" You shrugged and pondered on the question for a moment. Only after you ordered the drinks did you finally reply. "He asked if I wanted to go out tonight." Fives gave you a moment, he knew you'd come to the right conclusion after a while. "Wait! He was asking me out on a date? I thought he was just asking me to join you guys. That would explain the flowers and the nervous look on his face though... He even stumbled over his words at one point." Fives could imagine his brother doing just that when standing in front of you and asking you on your first date, and he could imagine the pain Echo must have felt when you thought he was asking you out as a friend. "Maybe you should talk to him", Fives suggested. You nodded and bit your lip a bit as you looked at Fives, who wondered how Echo could ever question your obvious feelings for him, especially with the way you lit up after figuring out that Echo had asked you out earlier.

-------

After your conversation you had hurried away from the bar to find Echo and when Fives returned to the table the two of you had been long gone. It wasn't until late that night that Fives saw his brother again. Everyone was asleep by the time Echo snuck through the barrack door and quietly walked over to his bed next to Fives. "How was your date?" Echo almost jumped into the air from the shook. He obviously hadn't been expecting anyone to be awake this late at night. But after a moment he relaxed. Instead of settling on his own bed he made his way to his brother's and sat down, Fives mimicked his action and sat up as well. They sat close together, shoulder to shoulder, just as they had done when sharing fears and feelings as cadets. "I don't know what you did, what you told (Y/N), but thank you", Echo whispered in the dark. Fives just nodded and patted his brother's back. "That's what brothers are for", he said with a smile. Echo shook his head. He moved away a bit so he could really look at Fives. "You're more than a brother, you're my best friend. And you're the one who finally got me a date with my soulmate." A low chuckle escaped Fives. He could almost hear wedding bells underlining Echo's words, an idea he liked more than he would have thought. Maybe in the not so distant future he could be an uncle, have a small mixture of Echo and (Y/N), two of his favourite people in the galaxy, to spoil. "You're moving a little fast there, buddy." But Echo only shook his head again. He seemed more serious and sincere than Fives had seen him in a long time. "I'm not. (Y/N) is amazing, the date was amazing, and I just know that they're the one for me. I think I've always known, ever since I first laid eyes on them." Fives nodded. He was happy for his vod, happy that he had found someone he loved so much, and who loved him in return. In fact, he had a feeling a similar conversation was happening on the other side of Coruscant, with you and Senator Amidala both talking about the soldiers you had fallen in love with. "You should get some sleep", Fives told his brother, who still seemed to be on cloud nine from the night he had spent with you. "And dream of (Y/N)." Echo, with a bright smile on his lips, agreed. "I always dream of (Y/N)", he told Fives before retrieving to his own bed.

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I suddenly had this urge to write this fic from Fives' POV, because he's just the best wingman imaginable. I hope you liked it.

#echo x reader #arc trooper echo x reader #echo x you #arc trooper echo x you #echo x y/n #arc trooper echo x y/n #echo imagine #arc trooper echo imagine

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themadlostgirl · 3 years

Text

When It’s Cold (6)

*We stan open communication, patience, and informed, enthusiastic consent when it comes to acts of sex baby! That being said I have gotten a lot more comfortable and better at writing smut (imho) so compared to smut I have written in the past this is more detailed and thus a lot raunchier sounding than anything you may have read by me before. Just wanted to put that out there before we go diving into this. Also, if I have not somehow made this clear enough already: SMUTTY CHAPTER AHEAD!*

~~~

Felix woke up a little stiff but otherwise happy. You were still asleep next to him. At some point in the night you both had turned over so he was spooning you. You fit into him like a puzzle piece. He really could get used to waking up like this.

You shifted in your sleep your back nestling further against his body. Felix froze as he realized that there was another part of him that had woken up this morning. Of all the days he could wake up with morning wood it had to choose the morning he was sleeping next to you and your ass was pressed right up against him. Okay. No matter. He can just move back so it isn’t touching you.

Felix slid his hips back from you but your body followed when he tried to pull away. He couldn’t push you away either since you were holding his free arm to your chest. Now that he was thinking about it Felix could feel exactly what it was his trapped hand was touching. So it seemed he was in a very awkward position. Your ass pressed against his erect dick and refusing to put space between it and his hand resting over one of your breasts where you kept it held. He really didn’t want to deal with the embarrassment that would come if you were to wake up while you two were like this.

He could just push you away and make a run for it. No. You didn’t deserve to be woken up like that. He started thinking of things to get his erection to go down but it persisted. It really wasn’t helped by the fact that you kept wiggling your butt against it either. If you kept squirming around it was never gonna go away.

“Hmm,” Your voice whined and pressed against him harder. You kept making small little noises as you squirmed and it suddenly dawned on Felix what was happening. You were having a dirty dream and were using the feeling of his erection between your thighs to get yourself off.

Oh this was conflicting.

He could either stay in place and let you ride this out, pun intended, and hope that you didn’t wake up or if you did wake up he could pretend to still be asleep and you could deal with any embarrassment on your own. There was also the chance that he could wake you up and you two could be mature about this situation and laugh it off in mutual embarrassment. Hell, it might even evolve into actual sex if he played his cards right. Then again he could still just run away and you two would never need to speak of this morning ever again.

He needed to make a decision soon because you were only getting more eager in your motions. Your breath was coming harder and he knew you would wake yourself up soon if he didn’t do anything. Damn it. Why did this have to feel so good?

“Hey,” Felix whispered, “Wake up. Time to get up, little girl.”

“Huh?” Your eyes were bleary but open, “Ugh…” You pressed into him again, still not fully awake. “Felix?”

“Right here,” He said, “You need to wake up now. You’re kinda...um...you are kinda rubbing…” Felix couldn’t get the words out. His face felt red hot.

“Rubbing?” You squinted over your shoulder at him. He sighed and glanced down at the lower half of your bodies. You looked down too and with a yelp leapt away from him. “Oh my god! Sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

“It’s okay,” Felix mumbled. He grabbed a pillow from the armchair to cover his lap. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You had your face hidden in your hands. Felix took a deep breath. You were so beautiful in the morning. Your bedhead and rumpled pajamas was the softest thing he had ever seen. He really wished he could have enjoyed it longer.

“Did I…” You whispered, your face still pointed away from him, “Did I cause it to be like that?” You pointed lamely to the pillow on his lap.

Felix gulped and clutched the pillow tighter. This line of questioning wasn’t helping to get rid of it.

“No,” Felix said, “Not in the way you’re thinking. It was already like that when I woke up you just kept it like that.”

“Oh god!” You groaned. You grabbed one of the blankets from the floor and pulled it over your head to hide. “This is mortifying.”

“Is it?” Felix said before he could think better of it. “Is it so bad to think that you may desire me the same way I desire you?”

“You what?” One of your eyes peeped out from your blanket cocoon.

“You heard what I said.” Felix took a deep breath. “I like you. I find you attractive. Why does it have to be embarrassing? It’s like you said: it’s just us here. Can we be honest without shame?”

“This is a lot to process first thing in the morning.” You were dodging. Felix didn’t blame you. He was trying to have a conversation you just weren’t ready for. Even though he knew you desired him you just weren’t ready to admit it to him yet. It hurt but he wouldn’t push you.

“It is rather early,” Felix sighed in defeat, “I’m gonna go get a shower.”

~~~

Felix walked past me and went up the stairs to his bedroom. My face was still uncomfortably hot as I replayed the morning’s events back in my mind. I had been having a pleasant dream about Felix. Instead of the hot and heavy dreams I was used to it was softer. Still sexual but it wasn’t dirty. In my dream he was making love to me. Sweet words whispered in my ear as he kissed me. When I woke up I almost didn’t realize I wasn’t dreaming anymore until Felix told me I was rubbing my ass up against him.

I had never felt more embarrassed! It also didn’t help that I was still turned on to the point I couldn’t even look at him lest I crawl back into his lap. I just wanted to crawl in a hole and die. What must he have been thinking when he woke up to me doing that?

But that wasn’t the entire story, was it? Felix had said he desired me. He wasn’t mortified by the experience like I was. He had been so sweet and honest about the entire situation while I cowered under my blanket. Why am I trying to avoid this? It’s all I’ve been thinking about for weeks! He practically told me I’d be more than welcome in his bed and I turned him down. What is wrong with me?!

I need to fix this.

I shot to my feet and ran upstairs. I paced outside of Felix’s room for a few minutes before swallowing back my nerves and going in. Felix wasn’t in the bedroom. I heard the sound of running water and remembered that he said he was gonna get a shower.

This felt eerily familiar.

I lingered in the doorway debating if I should leave and come back in a few minutes when he was finished or stay and wait. As I was trying to think of what to do the water turned off and Felix emerged from the bathroom.

It didn’t seem like he had noticed I was there as he strolled across the room over to his dresser.

Keep my eyes up, do not look down at his naked torso. Everything will be fine.

“Uh Felix?”

“Geez!” Felix jumped. The towel around his hips started to slip and he grabbed at it to keep it from falling. “Damn it woman! Are you trying to give me a heart attack? What are you doing skulking in my door?”

“Sorry, I just…” I entered the room and let the door fall shut behind me. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“And this couldn’t wait until after I got clothes on?”

“Yeah. I didn’t think that through. I just wanted to say that I didn’t feel right about the way things were left downstairs. I don’t know why I’m so nervous about liking you. Probably because I haven’t ever liked anyone like I like you before. I certainly have never really wanted anyone like I want you and that scares me too. But I don’t want to be scared. I don’t want you to think that I’m pushing you away because I’m ashamed of what I feel. I do find you attractive and I do want more out of this relationship but it’s daunting. I don’t know where I would even start.”

“Darling,” Felix sighed, he cupped my face in his large hands and bent down to kiss me. “We start right here. We start by admitting what we want. We can take it as slow or as fast as you want to. We have more than enough time to explore together. Okay?”

“Okay.” I stood on my toes and pulled him down for another kiss. It was quickly turning heated and Felix pushed me away. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I’m still only wearing a towel.” He said, “And you are turning into a tent if you get my meaning.”

“Oh…” I blushed. I gazed into his pale slate blue eyes. “Anything I can help with?”

Felix’s eyes went wide. “You can’t just say stuff like that to me.”

“Why not?”

“Cause I might end up taking you up on it.”

“That’s exactly why I said it though.”

“You know what you’re getting yourself into, little girl?”

“I hope so.” I threaded my fingers with his, “And for your information I am not a little girl. Not in height and certainly not in age.”

“Are you sure about that, small fry?” Felix chuckled, “Looking kinda short from up here.”

“This is a perfectly normal height!” I protested, “You’re just freakishly tall! You know what? Forget it. I rescind my offer. Have fun of taking care of that on your own.”

“I’m sorry,” Felix tugged on my hand keeping me close, “I can’t help but tease you. Come back.”

He ran a free hand through my hair. His gaze searching mine. “I want you to. God knows how much I want you to but I don’t want you to do it if it isn’t what you really want. Don’t go thinking you have to jump into the deep end to keep me happy. I’ll still want you regardless.”

“I’m not behaving irrationally, Felix.” I told him, “I want to do this and, y’know, maybe in exchange you can...help me…?”

“Brave girl,” Felix smirked before kissing me again. He was leaning back against the dresser. His hands wandered from my hips up into my hair and down again. I felt something poke against my stomach and tried not to squeak like was my knee jerk reaction.

“Still want to do this?” Felix whispered. His voice was a lot deeper than before. It sent a pleasant tingle down my spine.

“Yes please.”

Felix took a deep breath and nodded. With trembling hands I untucked the towel from his hips and it fell to the floor. I was staring directly into Felix’s chest. I wasn’t sure what to do now that I had him naked. I had many fantasies but trying to re-enact them had me trembling with anticipation and fears of inadequacy.

“Need me to help guide you?” Felix spoke softly.

I nodded dumbly. Felix tilted my chin up to kiss me. His other hand rested over my dominant hand and pressed it to his chest. Slowly he moved it down lower, all the while his mouth was still on mine. I felt wiry hairs touch my hand and I flinched.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Felix whispered against my lips, “You’re alright, darling. Nothing to be scared of here. Just keep your eyes on me.”

I took in a deep breath and relaxed once more. With his hand still over mine he guided it along his cock. Letting me get a feel for what it felt like to touch it. His breathing was calculated and slow, trying to retain a sense of composure as he moved my hand over him and palmed the tip. He hissed through clenched teeth and kissed me again a bit more desperately.

“Are you good to keep going?” He asked.

“Yes.” My own voice felt faraway.

Felix moved my hand back down to the base and wrapped my fingers along the shaft. With his hand still around mine he moved it up and down his cock in sure slow movements. His wrist flicked and twisted slightly as we went. He was breathing hard now and I could tell he was trying not to moan or buck into my hand.

“Felix,” I kissed at his shoulder, “You can enjoy yourself. Don’t be so worried about scaring me off. Let me take care of you.”

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”

I bit back a smile as I removed his hand from around mine so it was just me pleasuring him. I watched his face closely seeing what he liked and how to respond. It was so strange seeing this boy who was usually so stoic and rigid release his inhibitions and react how he wanted to in my grasp. I felt a surge of power as I started pumping him faster, the sound of his moans getting louder. Half mumbled words as his hips bucked against my fist. He kept one hand gripped on the lip of the dresser while the other held tightly to me.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his eyes were screwed shut, a small bead of perspiration gathered on his brow, “Fuck, I--” He broke off into wanton moans again.

“It’s alright, Felix. I want you to.” I trailed my lips along his chest, “Please Felix.”

He roared my name and bucked harder into my hand. Warm spurts of milky cum coating my hand in the process.

Felix panted as he rode out the tail end of his orgasm. Our eyes met and he pulled me to him crushing his lips to mine. “So I did a good job?” I chuckled against his lips.

“You were perfect, darling.” He collected his towel from the ground and wiped the cum from my hand. “Sorry about the mess. Looks like I got a bit on your pants too.”

“They needed washed anyway.” I shrugged.

“It’s your turn now.” He said. My eyes widened and he snorted. “Did you forget about that part?”

“A little. Got caught up in the moment with you.” I blushed harder. Felix brought me to him again for a sweet lingering kiss. “But I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” He grinned, “Chuck your pants in my hamper and sit on the bed for me.”

“Okay.” I turned to go.

“Oh, put this in there too while you’re over there.” Felix threw his towel at me. I caught it and tossed it in the bathroom hamper before stripping out of my pajama pants and tossing them in as well. I sat at the edge of Felix’s bed wearing only my panties and a sleep shirt.

Felix had pulled on some sweatpants and a t-shirt while I was waiting. My whole body was growing more jittery with every step he took towards me. It was a good kind of jittery though. My body thrummed with anticipation.

He sat down next to me. His hands caressed my face and left small kisses along my nose and cheeks. “I guided you, now you need to guide me.” He said, “Show me what to do. What you like.”

“Right,” I shook off my nerves. Shouldn’t be too hard, I just need him to do what I usually do when I’m alone. I can start slow. No need to rush.

I leaned closer and kissed him. As we kissed I moved his hand down to the hem of my shirt and slid it under so he was touching my bare skin. My skin tingled in the wake of his touch. His other hand followed as I encouraged him to touch my breasts. I moaned into his mouth.

“Soft,” Felix murmured, “I knew you’d be soft.”

“And your hands are rough.” I laughed slightly. Felix grimaced and started to withdraw before I pressed him back to me. “It’s okay. I kinda like it.”

I let him go so he could rub and play with my breasts. My shirt was hiked up and I quickly took it off so it was out of the way. He groaned next to me and after a nod from me he started peppering kisses along my chest. He took one of my nipples into his mouth and sucked on it.

The ache between my legs was getting stronger. “Felix,” I took one of his hands and started leading it lower down my body. “I need you to touch me now.”

“With pleasure, darling.” We laid down against the bed. “Show me what to do.”

“First, I like to play with my clit until I feel ready.” His hand slid beneath the band of my panties and I whined when he touched my clit. He rubbed it in sure slow swipes, circling it with care as I moaned next to him.

“You’re really wet,” He said. “Do I make you feel that good, little girl?”

“Yes,” I gasped as he sped up slightly. I clung onto him tighter, my face buried in his shoulder. “Want to make me feel even better?”

“Of course,”

“Slide one finger inside me,” I instructed. Felix listened and I let out a moan that was half yelp.

“Did I hurt you?” Felix asked, concerned.

“No, it’s just um,” I shuddered around him, “Your fingers are longer than mine so you can get deeper than I normally can. It feels really good.”

“Good, now what would like me to do?”

I instructed him on taking me slowly. Curling his finger and letting my cunt stretch before he added another. I was starting to lose coherency as he began pumping his fingers in and out of me. Curling and scissoring my wet, aching cunt until I couldn’t form words anymore. He kissed my neck, whispered words of praise in my ear as my pleasure was driven higher and higher. I risked a glance down and nearly came at the sight of Felix’s hand in between my legs. It was so strange to see something I pictured so clearly in my mind actually happening.

“Felix,” I moaned, grasping onto him like my sanity depended on it. “Feels good...almost--almost--need more!”

“What do you need? Tell me how to please you.”

“Clit. Rub my clit.” I begged.

His other hand went down and started rapidly swiping and circling my clit. I shouted as stars danced before my eyes. I was gonna cum any second now. “Felix! Fuck Felix, I’m gonna--I--”

“Do it,” His voice was dripping with desperation, “Please darling, I want you to cum. I want to know you feel good. Please cum for me darling.”

“Felix!” I dug my fingernails into his shoulders as my orgasm washed over me. My pussy clenching tight over his fingers which were still coaxing me through my orgasm to draw it out as long as possible. I rocked against him, my shouts turning into whimpers as tiny post orgasmic shockwaves rolled through my body.

“I got you,” Felix whispered, “I got you. You were so wonderful for me, darling. I’m glad I could make you feel good.”

“Not just good,” I mumbled happily, “Fucking fantastic is what it felt like.”

“Happy to hear it.” He popped the fingers that had just been in my pussy into his mouth licking the juices off. He licked his lips with a smile. “I knew you would taste good too.”

“I cannot believe you just did that.” I hid my face in his chest, “Why did you do that in front of me?!”

“Because as splendid as this morning has been I have not had anything to eat yet today and I figured I had a good enough snack right here.”

“Felix!” My face felt like it was on fire.

“Stop hiding, if you can’t take it when I lick you off my fingers how are you going to handle when I have my head between your legs drinking it up straight from the source?”

“You what?!” I snapped my head up so fast I hit him in the jaw. “Ow, sorry,”

“Okay, that might have been a little too intense for an after handjob pillow talk. I concede that.” Felix rubbed his jaw, “How about we cool things down for the rest of the day? You go clean yourself up, get a shower, put on something comfy. I’ll go make us something to eat and we can watch whatever movie you want. Sound good?”

I rolled on top of him and kissed him. I didn’t care if I could taste myself on his tongue (It was kinda hot if I was honest with myself). I just wanted to express these deep feelings stirring inside that I couldn’t adequately express. If this wasn’t love then I don’t know what else it could possibly be.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Felix chuckled, “Now can you get off me? As much as I would love to keep you here in my bed for the rest of the day I did promise you food and a movie.”

“If I must,” I rolled off him and collected my shirt from the ground. With a final look at Felix I smiled and scampered out of the room back to my own. I think this has to be the best morning I’ve ever had.

---

(Previous) (Next)

#now if you will excuse me i am gonna go stare at a wall #felix imagine #felix x reader #ouat felix #ouat #neverland #peter pan ouat #roommate au #smut

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oldshrewsburyian · 4 years

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if u ever wanna dump an essay about edward fairfax rochester to me...I’m here!

Ahh, you must know how dangerous such an invitation is to an enthusiast! It’s a rainy Sunday evening, I’ve poured myself a glass of wine, and I’m ready to do this. I think Charlotte Brontë is doing and exploring some really interesting things in the character of Rochester, which sometimes get flattened/left out in adaptations. To be fair to the adaptations: he’s still compelling as a Brooding Gothic Protagonist.™

Prolegomenon I: I haven’t read the scholarship on Jane Eyre since undergrad, and I haven’t read The Wide Sargasso Sea since graduate school. I make no claims to particular originality here. And of course, literature can and does hold multiple meanings, etc. etc.; this is my take on Edward Fairfax “Self-Delusion” Rochester. The subfields of Jane Eyre criticism I’m most familiar with/informed by are “Jane Eyre + feminist theory” and “Jane Eyre + ‘early 19th-century debates within Anglicanism, pretty wild, right?’” This should surprise exactly no one who follows this blog.

Prolegomenon II: when I get caught up in my Rochester Feelings in conversation, there is inevitably a point where one of my English-major or -professor friends will shout me down and say “He kept a WIFE in the ATTIC” and I know. I know. It’s inexcusable and I’m not trying to excuse it, and everyone should read Jean Rhys. What I am really interested in doing, though, is exploring Rochester as three-dimensional character, not “man whose bad behavior gets hand-waved aside because reasons.”

First off: Rochester is a man of contradictions. He is a man who is generous to his retainers and his tenants. He is a man who shoulders even social responsibilities that are not strictly his, as we see in the education of Adèle (who might otherwise have died in an uncharitable charitable institution, or become a laundress, or become a courtesan.) True, we meet him as an extremely awkward and fumbling and sometimes resentful figure in loco parentis. But he is trying. I think this is perhaps the key thing about Rochester: what we see him doing for most of the novel, almost always badly, is trying to achieve better (more just, more humane, more equitable) results within a system (patriarchal, economic, colonial) that is rotten at its core. It is not everyone who has the moral fiber of a Jane Eyre, to say “this system is rotten at its core and it is better to starve on the moors or live forever unhappy than to be complicit in it.” The second thing we see Rochester doing, almost always badly, and this is where the contradiction comes in, is trying to avoid his own pain. I’ve intentionally said pain rather than guilt. I think that gets closer to the heart of the matter.

I’m going to get back to my essay in a minute, but an interjection of sorts, before I put the rest of it under a cut: I think it is vital to the novel that Rochester genuinely changes. Justification of this argument and More Emotions below.

For contemporary readers, the concept of repentance as a process may feel unfamiliar, trite, irreversibly sullied by hypocrites. But even if we take it out of Brontë’s extremely Anglican framework, I read Rochester’s profound, unconditional acceptance of his own sin (wrong, if you prefer) against Bertha and the losses which he sees as divine punishment for it as absolutely key to his having a chance at a future with Jane. The concept of divine retribution is surely stranger to us even than that of repentance, but having Thornfield, Rochester’s inheritance, sign and symbol and engine of his patriarchal wealth, built on colonial exploitation, literally go up in flames like the wicked cities of the Old Testament, is Not Exactly Subtle. And, of course, he loses his sight: “If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out.” His sight has been, in the most fundamental spiritual sense, diseased. He has been incapable of accurately seeing his own guilt (which is to say, seeing it in proportion to all other things, the other facts of Bertha’s madness, the duplicity of his family and that of the Masons, etc. etc.) So he loses his sight. And then he gains a much richer understanding of, well, everything. Gradually. Not all at once. I have Feelings about the psychological realism of those final chapters, but let me rewind, as it were. [N.B. I’m not arguing that Charlotte Brontë presents all this as a straightforward Divine Smiting. It matters that Bertha gets the freedom to bring all this crashing down (literally), and that she chooses her own end. But I do think that Rochester reads it as Smiting; I think we need to take that final assertion of his seriously. It’s entirely possible to read the Elm Tree Incident, and indeed that bizarre wedding morning, as Rochester waiting, waiting with pounding heart, for the bolt of lightning.]

I believe passionately in Rochester and Jane as a couple for a number of reasons (so many reasons, all the reasons), but perhaps chief among them is that they are both, bless them, raging romantics who have had very little outlet for their rich emotional life or for their unconventional, erudite, intelligent, exploratory spiritualities. OR (sorry, I forgot one) for their intellectual life, come to that! Rochester with his library full of science and his feelings about moths and Jane who becomes a teacher and genuinely loves nurturing young minds. *sobs* I love them so much. But Rochester is far too ready to manipulate others as he has been manipulated, and as others seek to manipulate him. His treatment of Blanche Ingram, for instance, I read as being several things, in shifting proportion 1) an effort to distract himself from Jane; he has few if any scruples about involving the unscrupulous and mercenary Miss Ingram in bigamy 2) an effort to distract the neighborhood and its gossip from Jane; why, after all, has he been at Thornfield so long without entertaining anyone?? very suspicious 3) an effort to find out what Jane’s feelings for him are. We see her ready to sting him into jealousy at the end too, a nice little bit of symmetry. Rochester is, yes, high-handed in the extreme. But I read the conversation under the elm tree not as a cynical test, but a genuine and painfully awkward attempt to figure out what Jane’s feelings for him really are. Yes, they’ve been having High Spiritual Communion and intellectual discussions and mutual teasing and borderline flirting for however many weeks it’s been. But also: he’s her employer. He’s at least 15 years older than she is (I forget the details on this. 15? 20? anyway, point stands.) He is not and never has been handsome, and he knows exactly how little his wealth counts for with Jane. He’s deeply weird and his house is weird and he comes with a French ward and a mysterious attic and a wife. But does she love him anyway? She does! *cries about it*

Of course, none of this excuses the inexcusable. The proposal-to-wedding sequence shows us Rochester at his moral nadir, in relation to both Bertha and Jane. It also shows him on the knife edge of losing control over his integrity in other ways, now that he has violated this one. (Remember when Jane comes back to Thornfield and says “Reader, I had feared worse; I had feared he was mad”? Yeah, there’s a reason for that.) Anyway, allow me to present excerpts from Chapter 27, which lives in paraphrase in my head at all times:

[W]hile he spoke my very conscience and reason turned traitors against me, and charged me with crime in resisting him. They spoke almost as loud as Feeling: and that clamoured wildly. "Oh, comply!" it said. "Think of his misery; think of his danger—look at his state when left alone; remember his headlong nature; consider the recklessness following on despair—soothe him; save him; love him; tell him you love him and will be his.

Whew! Anyway, she decides not to despite the fact that she and Rochester feel exactly the same way in this moment:

I am insane—quite insane: with my veins running fire, and my heart beating faster than I can count its throbs. Preconceived opinions, foregone determinations, are all I have at this hour to stand by: there I plant my foot.

*sobs harder* I think it is vitally important to point out that Jane is not cold or even, in this moment, convinced by her own arguments. She and Rochester are, moments after this, in each other’s arms, the language of fire and flame used for them both, and Rochester releases her first because he wants her influenced by nothing but her own will; not their shared passion, and certainly not his own force.

...Where was I before I got caught up with the unbearable sexual and emotional tension? Oh yes, Rochester after Jane leaves. He embraces an extremely thorough program of self-punishment. The most obvious course of action for him -- the one that Jane, the person who knows him best in all the world, assumes he has taken -- is to run away from his pain again, to leave England. He does not do that. He does the opposite of that. He refuses to so much as leave Thornfield itself except to roam the grounds at night. I love this book so much. Then, after the fire, which happens only 2 months after Jane leaves, he goes to Ferndean. Now! The only thing we have learned about Ferndean previously is that Rochester refused to have Bertha live there because its bad climate would have (or at least might have) killed her. We learn from Jane-as-narrator that literally no one will rent it, again, because of its “ineligible and insalubrious site.” Rochester has, with heartbreaking obviousness, given up on life. He has, by his own account, been “doing nothing, expecting nothing,” in “ceaseless sorrow... [and] delirium of desire.”

...Edward Fairfax Rochester has never heard of chill. Also, as we learn, though he is worried about his disabilities because he is worried that Jane will mind, and because they make him a less eligible potential husband in his own estimation (*sniffle*), what he has been chiefly preoccupied with for the last year is worrying about where Jane is and if she’s all right. Again: the man has never heard of chill. But his impulses are generous. He is the heir to a rotten and a poisoned inheritance, and he begins by blaming this inheritance -- his external circumstances, both his privilege and the choices that he is pushed into by his father and brother -- for his own injuries and the ways in which he has injured others. But I (obviously) vigorously cling to the belief that he genuinely turns away from this, that he confronts his own sins and repents and accepts that he will not, cannot, be reunited with Jane in this life. But then he is. *cries about it* Moreover, in a key reorientation from his earlier avoidance-and-denial coping strategy, he accepts Jane’s services “without painful shame or damping humiliation.” He un-hermits himself! He and Jane travel to see friends and family! They receive visitors! These romantic-hearted science nerds proceed to be shockingly normal... for their own given value of that. I’m also convinced that they have the kinkiest sex in nineteenth-century English literature, and I support them. And part of their happiness is the happiness of others; it’s the opposite of Rochester’s globe-trotting, radically individualistic conduct in the first part of the novel. Of course it’s more than he deserves; he knows that, and he needs to know it. But it’s narratively elegant, and (I think) deeply satisfying. And I love it. And, obviously, him... again, more than he deserves.

#jane eyre #edward fairfax rochester #was recently reminded of how hard i ship jane/rochester #is a tag that i have #asks and answers #emilydickinsonapologist

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andorerso · 4 years

Text

let the cat out of the bag

Modern AU. M-rated, no smut but lot of references to sex. Super silly!

It starts after the first time they sleep together.

They aren’t dating, they aren’t even friends – but he’s the hot classmate she always had a thing for, and when they’re paired up for a project that leads her to invite him up to her apartment to prepare, she can’t hold herself back anymore.

It’s clearly mutual; she hasn’t picked up on it before, but it’s hard to ignore it then. Cassian is giving her signals, flirting even, and she doesn’t think too much of it before she kisses him. His response is pretty enthusiastic, and it isn’t long before their clothes disappear.

Studying blissfully forgotten – for the time – Jyn has the pleasure of enjoying the best sex of her life. And that’s all it’s supposed to be. They both agree that neither of them has time for a relationship, but that doesn’t mean they can’t enjoy the hot sex between them every once in a while, and hot sex, it is. A quick discussion in bed to make sure they’re on the same page, and they move right onto round two. Then three and four.

Truthfully, they don’t get any studying done that night.

Then between rounds three and four, Cassian gets up to get a quick snack for themselves from her fridge while she goes to use the bathroom. She finds him scratching her cat’s ears when she emerges, totally unaware of the incredulous stare she’s giving him.

“Hey, cute cat,” he says, his lips quirking up into a smile when Mimi arches her body towards him, butting his palm with her head. She’s purring, and Jyn feels like she’s in a different dimension. “What’s her name?”

“Uhm.” Shaking her head free of confusion, she says, “Mimi. She usually doesn’t take to strangers like this.”

That’s an understatement. Mimi looks like a harmless floof, and it usually lures unsuspecting victims into underestimating her, which is a big mistake to make. She has a vicious streak; many a guest and even friends have ended up with nasty scratch marks for daring to try and touch her. Bodhi is terrified of her to this day and jokingly calls her Jyn’s “doppelganger.”

“She’s you in cat form,” he told her affectionately. Jyn rolled her eyes but he wasn’t too far off.

Mimi doesn’t like strangers and she doesn’t trust them. She isn’t a particularly affectionate cat to begin with, not even with Jyn – who is undoubtedly the only person she seems to tolerate.

So it’s a shock, to say at least, to see Cassian rubbing Mimi behind her ears and his hand not being bitten off. In fact, Mimi’s eyes are closed in contentment, a low purring sound reverberating through her tiny body. Jyn almost feels a little jealous – but of who, she isn’t sure.

Cassian looks up at her with a quirk of his lips, eyes sparkling in amusement.

“Guess I’m special then.”

Then it goes on.

Jyn brings Cassian home one night, pushing him to the sofa and crawling into his lap without much preamble, attaching her mouth back to his. She grabs his cock, not in the mood for foreplay, and hears Cassian hiss in response. But just as she’s about to take off her shirt, Mimi jumps up on the couch and meows loudly.

Jyn breaks away in surprise. It isn’t like her cat to be so needy – but as she blinks at Mimi in confusion, she realizes she isn’t groveling for her attention.

Of course.

Cassian laughs in amusement, like this is all funny, and reaches out to give Mimi an affectionate pat on the head.

“Hey, Mimi. Missed me, did you?”

What the fuck is going on.

Jyn stares at them both incredulously. She’s just trying to get some good dick, goddammit, and here is her own cat, usually a grouch, being a cockblock because she decided she’s just as putty in Cassian Andor’s hands as any other girl.

He really has a certain effect on the female population but this is ridiculous.

Jyn clears her through loudly, drawing Cassian’s attention back to her.

“Sorry, do you wanna keep playing with that pussy or mine?”

“Jesus, Jyn.”

Surprise etched on his face, she feels a momentary thrill of satisfaction at having scandalized him.

“Too much?”

“No, that’s… that’s fine, just – not in front of your cat.”

“Come on, she can’t understand you.”

“It’s weird.”

As they’re talking, Mimi puts her little paw on Cassian’s shoulder as though she is begging for his attention, like the desperate little whore she is. Jyn gives her a glare. Traitor.

“You just like her because she likes you.”

“Yeah, so? I must be doing something right here.”

“I’ll show you something right,” she murmurs somewhat menacingly, then kisses him again, pushing his chest until he’s lying fully on his back. Perfect.

Maybe she’ll suck his dick now. She would bet he won’t be thinking about her cat then.

Satisfied with that plan, she reaches for his jeans and promptly undoes his zipper. He gives her a weird look and glances sideways at Mimi who’s now sitting on the armrest, watching them curiously. Jesus.

“Uhm, Jyn? Can we move this to your bedroom? I don’t want your cat to see my dick.”

She rolls her eyes but stands up, landing him a hand. “Why not? I walk around her naked all the time.”

“And I’m sure she’s very traumatized from that,” he jokes, earning himself a punch to the chest. As she turns around, his echoing laughter follows her all the way inside her bedroom.

Jyn complains about it to Bodhi a few weeks later, grumbling about how her own cat likes her fuck buddy more than she likes her. It’s some sort of karmic joke for sure.

“I swear he’s the cat whisperer or something,” she groans.

Bodhi hums noncommittally. His expression is too neutral which is… worrying.

“Maybe Mimi is onto something.”

She blinks at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that she literally hates everybody but you.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Jyn protests feebly. “She’s just not a fan of people.”

“But somehow, she likes this guy,” Bodhi goes on, ignoring her intervention. “Think maybe she’s picking up on your feelings?”

“You’re reaching,” Jyn tells him firmly, ignoring the way her heartbeat speeds up for some reason. “I don’t even know him.”

“You know him plenty well from what I understand.”

Jyn rolls her eyes again.

“It’s not gonna happen, Bodhi.”

“Sure, okay,” he agrees like the good sport he is. She can tell he doesn’t agree but he isn’t the type to push. “But I’ll tell you this – your cat is smarter than you.”

And Jyn punches his shoulder.

She’s literally riding Cassian when there’s a distinct high-pitched meow from the other side of the door. Jyn stops bouncing on his dick, turning her incredulous stare to the closed door of her bedroom. Cassian laughs.

“Oh, you gotta be kidding with me.”

“Ignore it,” he tells her, grabbing her chin and tilting her face back to his.

“But –” she begins but can’t finish as Cassian gives her a searing kiss and rolls his hips up to hers. Fuck it. Ignore it, she will.

In the end, the noises they make are louder than Mimi’s anyway.

When Cassian is leaving that night, Mimi runs quickly to his feet, a ball of white fluff as she circles his legs, purring. And wailing. Wailing, it seems, to stop him from leaving.

Jyn buries her face in her hand, embarrassed beyond belief, but Cassian is, of course, incredibly amused by all this. She almost wonders if he actually likes Mimi more than her.

“Hey, what is it?” he asks as he crouches down and gives Mimi another good rub under her chin. Jyn’s heart gives a strange beat at the sight. “Wanna come with me? I don’t think Jyn would like that very much.”

“Take her,” she deadpans, dedicated to ignoring the weird fluttering in her stomach. “She clearly likes you more.”

He stands up, smirking at her. “We have a connection. Don’t be jealous.”

“Of who?” she retorts, her tone sarcastic… though, it could have been a serious question.

Cassian doesn’t answer but his smile widens. Almost like he sees right through her act. She can’t tell if it thrills or makes her uncomfortable.

“Goodnight, Jyn.”

He leans in to kiss her cheek, her eyes fluttering shut at the unexpected gesture. She keeps them firmly closed even as she hears him bend down to give Mimi one more affectionate rub before grabbing his coat.

At the sound of her closing door, Jyn’s eyes open, her breath leaving her chest in a whoosh. She stares at Mimi with unconcealed resentment as the cat blinks up at her in innocence.

“This is all your fault.”

So.

Maybe she’s catching feelings. Whatever. It’s fine.

It’s just her stupid cat’s fault – seeing them together, seeing him so in tune with her, it’s messing with her head. Mimi is a pain in the ass but she’s Jyn’s baby, and she’s never met anyone who actually liked her and wasn’t mildly scared of her.

That’s all. If she doesn’t see them together anymore, she’ll be fine.

The next time Cassian comes over, Jyn has locked Mimi in the kitchen with fresh water and plenty of food to last her the night. The little devil has nothing to complain about. But as soon as Cassian arrives and they start taking their clothes off, scattered along the hallway, Mimi begins to scratch at the door, wailing tragically. Jyn pretends she doesn’t hear but Cassian does not.

“Hey, isn’t that Mimi?” he gasps, out of breath as Jyn is kissing down his bare chest.

She glances up at him with a pointed look. “Are you here to see her or me?”

Then she swirls her tongue around his nipple which renders him speechless for a moment.

But he doesn’t give up. “Doesn’t she want to come out?”

Jyn pulls away now, straightening to look at him. “She’ll be fine. But if you don’t have your fingers in me in the next five minutes, I won’t be.”

With that, she pulls him towards her bathroom, and Cassian doesn’t resist any longer.

It doesn’t last though.

She manages to stop them from meeting a few times when Cassian comes over, always getting straight to business, then throwing him out the door the minute they’re done. She feels a little bad about it, honestly – but they agreed on no strings attached from the start so she doesn’t owe him anything. Besides, she makes sure to treat him really well while he’s still here so he has nothing to complain about. She’s a thorough lover.

Still, Mimi gives her the stink eye every time she lets her out of the kitchen, and Jyn realizes she can’t keep this up forever. Not if she wants to continue seeing Cassian – and well, why wouldn’t she? It’s been a few months since they started sleeping together but the sex hasn’t gotten boring yet. She’s prepared to hold out until it does, or until one of them finds an actual relationship. (Which is more likely to be him than her but alas. That’s fine too.)

Yet, the ever-rising threat of catching feelings for Cassian almost makes her reconsider. Maybe it’s better to cut her losses now. She can’t – wouldn’t – get rid of Mimi. If one of them has to go, it would have to be Cassian.

That’s what Jyn is thinking about when Cassian comes over that night and Mimi runs to the door to greet him. She had hidden under the couch the whole afternoon, refusing to move no matter how much Jyn tried. No treats, no food, no toy got her to come out. She waited until the knock on the door came and sprinted straight to Cassian’s legs.

His face lights up in a smile like he’s actually missed the stupid cat too. Jyn can only watch in horror as he crouches down to greet her like an old friend.

“Hey there, buddy. How are you today?”

It’s not like she’s gonna answer you, stupid, Jyn thinks, but she’s aware that she’s being a bit nasty. It usually tends to happen when feelings are involved.

“There you go,” he murmurs, rubbing Mimi’s chin. “Good girl.”

Jyn’s face flushes at that, remembering other times she’s heard him say those words.

“Don’t call her that,” she chokes out, voice a little strained. Cassian looks up at her, his gaze darkening with lust as their eyes meet, but he doesn’t answer. He stands abruptly, walking over to her without a word, and kisses her.

It’s a hard kiss, not something to ease them into it, just getting straight to business. Jyn doesn’t mind but her head reels from the sharp turn as he breaks away to bite her earlobe, his hands groping for her breasts. Her breath and legs are getting a little shaky. With a quick maneuver, he lifts her up, her legs locking around his waist as he carries her into the bedroom.

He goes down on her without even taking off all of her clothes, and right then, Mimi is the farthest thing from her mind.

For the first time since they started having sex, they fall asleep together.

Usually, Cassian takes a shower, gets dressed, goes on about his business. Jyn doesn’t mind, it’s the arrangement they have.

But something about tonight has been… intense and exhausting – in a good way. She could barely feel her limbs by the time they finished, and when Cassian collapsed next to her, breathing heavily, she didn’t say anything. Let him catch his breath, she figured. But the warmth radiating from him was so reassuring and comfortable that her eyes quickly fluttered closed, and she must have fallen asleep after that. When she wakes, it’s after midnight, and though she distinctly remembers resting her head against Cassian’s shoulder, he’s now gone.

Bitter disappointment unfurling in her stomach, she sits up slowly. It’s for the best. She doesn’t need any more confusing feelings. But god, her sheets still smell like him, and she admits to herself that maybe she has a little crush and it isn’t just because of her cat.

It’s a thought she regrets as soon as she walks out of her bedroom. Because there, in all his glory, stands Cassian – petting her cat.

And seeing him half-naked, hair a mess, smile soft and mellow, stroking a purring Mimi is an image that she knows she won’t be able to get rid of. She can’t take back her confession now. The longing she feels as she stares at them is undeniable.

“What are you doing?” she whispers to make her presence known, her voice still sleepy.

Cassian looks at her but his hands never leave Mimi’s head.

“I’m petting your cat.”

“I can tell. You’re supposed to be petting me,” she says, but it’s quiet and lacking the exasperation she usually feels in these moments.

“I already have,” he points out, matching her tone. The smile on his face is gentle rather than smug, in contrast with his words.

“Cassian,” she begins, taking a deep breath before biting the bullet. “You can’t do this.”

“What?” he asks, and he seems genuinely confused.

Jyn gestures around with her hands. “Be nice to my cat.”

His eyebrows rise high, looking more confused than before.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s just – it’s not helping me a lot.”

“With what?”

“With my crush on you,” Jyn groans, giving up on fighting it. What the hell, she might as well see what he thinks. Maybe he feels the same.

And if not – well, she’s only losing the best sex of her life. She can deal with that, probably.

Stunned silence follows. Then he lets out a chuckle, his eyes sparkling in amusement.

“I’m sorry, am I so irresistible petting your cat that you’re literally asking me to stop being nice to her?”

Jyn grumbles. When he put it like that…

“I’m not asking you to kick her in the head. Just stop petting her, maybe?”

“Okay.” He nods a few times, stepping away from Mimi who meows once in outrage. Without taking his eyes off her, Cassian moves closer. “Then I have a better proposal for you. How about you let me take you out on a date and I keep being nice to your cat?”

“I…” Jyn pauses. Oh. She was hoping for this but she didn’t let herself believe in it. A slow smile unfurls on her lips. “I think Mimi would like that.”

Cassian, now close enough to touch, winds his arms around her neck, her hands going around his waist.

“And you? Would you like that?”

“Yeah.” She smiles up at him shyly. “I think I would like it too.”

And when she looks at Mimi, Jyn swears she looks a little smug

#rebelcaptain #dailyrebelcaptain #therebelcaptainnetwork #my fics #i wanted to put in the prompt but i can't link nor put in the picture #because it doesn't show up in the tags that way #sigh #ANYWAY super silly but i enjoyed this #mimi the cat

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