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blooming-violets · 1 month

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Lucky number 13 for Nature please :)

Apple Of My Eye || TASM Smut

Nature - 13: beneath the shade of trees in the middle of an orchard

[TASM Peter Parker x Fem!Reader]

WC: 1k (look at me being short and sweet for once in my damn life)

A/N: Two weeks later and I'm finally start to write for these prompts! I'm a slow bitch, I can not help it.

“It’s colder than I thought it would be out here.” She wrapped her arms around her sweater to try and hug out the chill in her bones. “I don’t think a skirt and tights was the right choice.”

Peter’s eyes roved over her body, taking in her legs in the sheer tights, “I think they were the perfect choice.”

That was easy for him to say. He had pants on.

She rolled her eyes and dropped the wooden basket full of apples she was carrying at the base of the closest tree trunk.

“Your opinions don’t count when you just like how my legs look in tights.”

They had been wandering through this apple orchard for almost two hours. At this point in their trek, they had yet to come across any other pickers for over forty minutes. They were deep into the orchard.

Probably lost.

Though Peter would never admit that.

With two full baskets of apples, they had more than enough for her mother, May, and themselves.

She sighed and leaned against the knotted tree, kicking at a rotten apple with the toe of her leather boot.

She was tired and hungry and cold and sick of picking apples.

“Are you going to give me your jacket or are you just going to stare at my legs some more?”

Peter tore his eyes away from watching the way the light breeze made her skirt dance around her thighs.

“What?”

She threw up her hands in exasperation, “Oh my god!”

He laughed, tackling her off the tree and wrapping his arms around her, dragging her straight to the dew covered grass.

“I was kidding, baby, kidding!” He pinned her to the ground, keeping her shoulders locked down with his palms and sliding his knees around her hips.

She couldn’t remember the last time she laid on the grass without a blanket between her and the ground.

“Peter!” She cried. “It’s wet down here. Cold and wet. Probably bugs. Worms. Little beetles. Oh god, spiders!”

“Shut up,” he laughed. He shoved his lips against hers to keep her quiet with a kiss. “It’s not cold. You’re just tired and cranky because we’ve been walking for approximately ten full business days while carrying all these apples.”

She nodded, huffing, “This is true. You got us lost. And now you’ve forced me to lay in Spider’s Ville. I bet they're crawling in my hair right now and laying their eggs.”

“The only spider down here is me and I’m already on top of you so you have nothing more to worry about.”

That got her to drop a bit of her attitude, turning her head to the side, the wet grass tickling her cheek, as she tried to hide her smile.

“Don’t you turn away from me when I’m being cute,” he chastised.

His hand slipped around her chin to gently turn her face back to him. He leaned down to kiss her again.

Taking his time.

Adoring her lips.

He slid down her body and forced himself to a kneel between her legs.

“You don’t need my jacket. I have other ways of warming you up,” he whispered, throwing a wink at her.

Her eyes widened in surprise, “Not here! We’re in public!”

Peter lifted his head and looked around, “Baby, please, all I see is you, me, and a shit ton of apples.”

“Well they could come!”

A suggestive smirk grew across his lips, “You’ll be the only cumming, don’t worry.”

Before she could even protest, his hand was slipping up her shirt and covering her breast over her bra, while he attacked her mouth with fiery kisses.

“Omph, Peter,” she tried to breathe through his kiss. “This is…is…oh.”

He had tugged down the strap of her bra, loosening the cup, so he could access her nipple. As she spoke, he flicked a finger against it, causing her to forget her words.

Her quiet moans in response were all he needed to keep going.

His tongue slipped past her lips, tangling with hers, enticing her to play along.

Her body relaxed, hands slowly moving up to run through his hair, as she submitted to his will.

The moment he felt her give in, he was ready to go.

Peter broke from the kiss to slide down her stomach. He trailed kisses over her sweater until he reached her skirt.

“You said you didn’t like these tights, right?” He panted, eyes wide with mischief. “They weren’t keeping you warm enough?”

She silently nodded, still trying to catch her breath from his dizzying kiss.

His hand disappeared under her skirt and a loud RIP followed.

She gasped in shock, “Peter!” She felt the massive hole he had torn open in her crotch. “That’s your solution to me being cold? Ripping my clothes off me? Counter productive.”

He chuckled under his breath, already settling himself in the grass between her legs, laying on his stomach and smirking up at her.

“Are you really that averse to my methods?”

She went quiet, hiding her need to smile. She wasn’t averse to it. She actually found it to be incredibly sexy. They were just a pair of cheap tights.

But she refused to tell him that.

He winked, reading her facial expressions anyway, “That’s what I thought. Now shut up and let me eat you like one of these apples.”

Chilly hands gently hooked behind her knees, raising her legs and spreading them wider, so he could scoot his shoulders closer. Peter pushed aside her underwear and let out a happy sigh at the sight awaiting him.

“I love this pussy,” he whispered to it.

His head ducked under her skirt and descended to her inner thighs. He brought his lips to her soft, rolling flesh. He traveled with kisses over her stretch marks and blemishes that he would never allow her to even think about calling imperfections.

There wasn’t a single inch of her skin that Peter didn’t adore.

Whatever reservations she might have had moments ago fly away the moment his breath hit her where she needed it most. The anticipation of what was to come had stoked a spark of her desire into a roaring lame. She didn’t care where he took her just as long as his tongue was buried in her pussy.

A whimper escaped her as they made contact.

She felt him give a breathy, hot laugh against her, knowing just as well as she did that she was enjoying this more than she wanted to let on.

He mumbled against her dewy lips, “You’re the cutest.”

He always loved hearing her whimper and moan despite all the fight she would put up.

She would give in.

Every time.

Peter delved back in, licking a steady stripe over her soft folds, dipping into her for a taste before dragging his tongue back up to her clit.

Tight, slow circles toyed with her sweet bud.

His mintrations were reserved. Lazy. Like he was purposely taking his time to savor every stretching second.

Languid and precise.

But it wasn’t long until he had her mewling and writhing over him.

The sounds urged him to hasten his work.

He wrapped his arms around her legs, pushing them up, locking his arms over her stomach so he could hold her closer. His face buried into her. Head hidden under her skirt. Lapping his tongue over her soaked, sensitive folds. Tending to her clit, worshiping it between his lips, before sinking his tongue back into her for another taste.

Heat rose over her body, warming her skin, pushing away the chill.

At least he was correct in delivering on that front. She was no longer cold.

Steaming hot.

Panting.

Her thighs trembled in Peter’s hold as pleasure seemed to pulse out from between them.

She let out a long, gasping moan. Trying to be silent should anyone be nearby but unable to keep it in.

Peter was too good with his tongue.

He responded with a guttural moan of his own from under her skirt, eating her out like a starving man unabashedly enjoying his first meal in days.

The vibrations of such a low, growling moan spread across her clit and sent shivers up her arching spine.

Her fists clenched at clumps of wet grass.

Feeling it give way in her hands. Ripping up. Dirt sinking under her nails.

She should be embarrassed how quickly Peter could take her from complaining about the cold to forcing her to orgasm but she couldn’t focus on anything besides that building pleasure.

His tongue pulled breathy whimpers from her lips.

Easing her closer and closer to that beautiful release.

“P-Peter!’ She gasped, letting out a desperate, needy whine. “Feels…so good!”

He was mumbling something against her lips but his words were muffled out by her cunt.

His grip around her belly tightened.

He knew she was almost there.

Hanging on by a quivering thread.

Peter turned all his attention to making love to her clit.

Her hips canted, arching off the ground.

Peter anticipated the move, shifting to follow her, knowing her well enough to predict where her body will go. Never letting the latch his mouth had on her pussy slip for even a second.

Her calves shook under her weight, holding her up, following her trembling thighs as her body gave in.

Her hand slammed across her mouth to stifle the shriek she desperately wanted to let rip. Letting it fall against her heavy, clamped hand instead.

Smelling the earthy dirt mixed with juicy apples against her fingers.

The faint smell of sex lingering in the wind.

Wet grass clinging to her skin.

Her clothes, damp.

Her body, on fire.

Peter stayed dutifully to her spasming pussy, letting her ride it out, sucking out every last drop she had to give, until she came crashing back to earth.

He lapped through her folds with moaning growls of delight as he cleaned her with his tongue.

It was only when she couldn’t take it anymore, far too sensitive post orgasm, that she shoved him out from under her skirt with her hand.

He emerged with a lopsided, glistening grin that screamed a silent “I told you so”.

It was only them and the apples.

Not a single person wandered on to the erotic feast he had devoured.

She threw a sweatered arm over her eyes to block out the sight of red apples against the deep blue sky.

Breathing heavily.

Feeling uncomfortable wet down below.

She felt him crawling over her. The weight of his stomach pressed against her.

His salty lips urged her out of hiding with his tongue gliding into her mouth.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, kissing him deeply.

Peter’s eyes were shining, proud of the work he had done this lazy afternoon.

He didn’t care for her ripped tights or soaked underwear or the fact that they were both covered in wet grass stains.

All he cared about was her and making sure her mood had shifted.

She shook her head up at him, still not fully believing he had suckered her into this.

“I love you to my core,” he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re the apple of my eye. You’re so a-peel-ing to me, baby. Let’s go home and live apple-y ever after.”

“I literally hate you so much right now.”

His laughter was enough to prove her statement false.

She loved him.

Even if he was a dork.

#andrew garfield #peter parker #tasm #the amazing spiderman #tasm peter #tasm peter parker #tasm x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm fic #peter parker x reader #apple of my eye #blooming violets fic #blooming violets

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em1e · 1 year

Text

ᴘʟᴀʏɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ

˚༉ words | 1.3k ˚༉ warnings | valhalla spoilers (?) ˚༉ notes | baji my beloved

「baji keisuke」 could always find the softest moments just by looking in your eyes. he thinks, when he is alone with you, that maybe, maybe even after kazutora went away, even after he had to face mikey apologetically, maybe this life was okay. it was worth living, as long as you were beside him.

maybe you’d think the same.

it was amazingly easy to be around you. always so simple to just be in your presence, doing things that kids do - playing video games, studying for classes. late, late nights filled with the sound of your laughter and shh’s wrapped around the idea that your parents would scold you for being so loud, and then scold you again for sneaking baji into the house after they’d expressed their distaste for him.

you never seemed to care for their opinion, arguing in favor of him anytime they’d turn their nose to him or give him a nasty glare, and the idea that you cared so much about him that you’d fight your parents tooth and nail until they stopped pestering you about it made his chest want to burst. all of this, just for him? it was hard to accept on his own.

“careful, baji-!” you all but scream in his ear as he swerves between cars down the road, grinning at how you tighten your arms around him and he knows he should slow down but you’re not really worried about that. your short giggles fill the air behind him as your forehead presses into his back.

eventually, you step off of the bike after him, legs shaky with adrenaline and baji has to steady you (as he always does when you ride with him) while you get your bearings and shoot him the biggest smile.

“so scary riding with you.” you mutter, but he knows there’s no real fear behind it. you enjoy the thrill, don’t you? especially with him.

he finds himself flicking your forehead in response, earning a pout from you, “you could’ve just met me here if it’s so scary.”

the way he teases you is light-hearted, with no real aggression following his words, and instead of arguing, you stick your tongue out at him and turn towards your destination: a playground. the dark sky tells you already that no sane child would be wandering on the equipment, giving free reign to every bit of plastic you desire. you find yourself climbing to the top of the tower, calling for baji to follow you with a giggle and baji would be damned if he’d never come to your beck and call, especially when his name leaves your lips so sweetly.

when he makes his way up to the top with you, you’re laying on your back facing the sky. baji settles beside you, exhaling as the cool floor seeps its way through his clothes and leaves goosebumps in its wake.

“it’s always so peaceful at night.” you hum, turning your head to look at baji. he turns his face you in return, scanning over your features in the dark and fuck if you’re not the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. . . and then you smile at him and he knows in that moment he’s a sucker that’s in too deep.

he realizes your mouth is moving far quicker than he can process, lost in his own world when you laugh and sit up abruptly.

“you’re not even listening to me!”

“was so,” he argues, lying through his teeth and watching you while making no move to sit up as well.

“what’d i say then?” your legs cross under you, now fully facing him with intent to maim him if he gives the wrong answer. he takes a second to reply, squinting at you as if you’ve asked the most ridiculous quest from him.

“i don’t have to answer you.” he settles on finally, arms coming to rest behind his head to make himself comfortable on the very uncomfortable playground tower. you scoff, jabbing a finger into his side.

“lame.”

he twitches at the contact, opening one eye to glare at you, “don’t do that.”

you live for the challenge, quickly jabbing him a second time at the perfectly prompted opportunity.

“or what?”

he closes his eye back and shrugs, “you’ll see.”

he can sense the energy radiating off of you, eating the opposition out of the palm of his hand and feels you pull back to jab him again. he catches your wrist instead, one eye opening to stare.

“you don’t listen, huh?”

you don’t reply, going to make another move with your other hand, but he’s far quicker than you, grabbing it effortlessly and you huff at the idea of being caught so easily by him while he finally sits up to get a better grip. you glare upon this realization, testing to see just how much of a hold he has by pulling your arms towards you. he doesn’t budge, snickering at the failed attempt.

“i warned you-” he starts to say, triumphant in this affair and ready to call himself the victor -

but you’re moving instead, setting yourself in his lap with both knees at his side and letting the hands he was still holding find place between the two of you.

“warned me?” you continue for him, prompting him to actually look at you and he for once understands how hakkai can get so fucking shellshocked talking to women because fuck. he opens his mouth to reply, to say anything that doesn’t leave him looking like a fish gasping for air but no words leave his lips and the way you’re looking at him is not helping.

your eyes scan over his face, head tilting slightly while you wait for a reply.

“i . . .” he’s barely able to get out a sound, almost choking when one of your hands cups his face. when did you let go of his hand? how did he not feel it-

“you’re so pretty, baji.” your other hand meets his other cheek, and baji thinks surely he’s died and gone to heaven. in absolute, pure bliss at the smallest feeling of your touch. your breath hits his lips and he swallows hard at just how close you are to him.

“what are you doing to me?” he whispers, words leaving his mouth faster than he can stop them.

you glance down to his lips, thumbs rubbing his cheek bones and he thinks he could melt into your touch. you lean forward, and baji finds himself closing his eyes and leaning in too, ready to savor the taste of you -

you press a kiss to his forehead instead, and baji’s fingers flex in his lap at the idea that maybe he’s been reading into this too much. with you sitting comfortable in his lap and his ass aching with no support from the floor, he thinks this is truly all to make him suffer. maybe for driving so recklessly, maybe for flicking you in the forehead, maybe for ruining whatever relationship you had with your parents.

his hands find purchase on your waist, relishing in the small baji that falls off of your lips before he’s pressing his own to yours. it’s clumsy, the way he kisses you, lips barely missing your own and hitting your top lip, but he’s quick to correct himself.

when he finally leans away, you chase him, hands attempting to keep him in place for more. your eyes open with a pout, desperate to continue.

“wasn’t done,” you mumble breathlessly, looking back down to his lips. he grins, licking his teeth.

“like me that much, huh?”

“just the way you kiss,” you dismiss, giving a quick peck to his nose before he has time to argue about what you say, “you’re okay, i guess.”

☰

the floor of the playground is cold against your back.

at the top, where you sat in baji's lap and shared your first kiss. your first real moment showing him how you felt about him. at the top, where baji pulled you impossibly closer, until all you could breath was him, all you could taste was him.

all you have now is his jacket.

#salmon rowe #baji keisuke x reader #keisuke baji x reader #baji x reader #keisuke x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #x reader

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abeautylives · 1 year

Text

Maybe One More Day

a/n: This was a little Beach Josh scenario I had cooked up and it got wildly out of control. Oops.

This is set in the summer of 2019, refer to the picture (no seriously, refer to the picture)

pairing: Joshxfemale!reader

word count: just under 5k

summary: Josh has been your best friend for years, and a short beach vacation with the group is about to take a turn.

warnings: 18+ minors stay far away, language, some friendly fluff, allusions to sexual situations, graphic sexual content, unprotected penetrative sex, some pining? unrequited… ya know what, just read it

update: read part 2 here

You bury your toes into the sand as the late afternoon sun beats down on them, the only part of your body not currently shaded by the beach umbrella planted between your chair and Jita’s. Jake's girlfriend is stretched out beside you, curves on perfect display and Sam’s girlfriend is to her right, looking quite like the model that she is. You always find yourself here, rounding out the group to make it an even number, though you’re not anyone’s girlfriend.

Smiling to yourself, you watch as Sam and Jake pass a soccer ball back and forth over the dips and mounds that make up the shoreline, and laugh with the other girls when Jake rounds off a kick that has Sam diving, landing face first in the sand.

In front of you, laying stomach down across a beach towel that’s longer than he is tall, is Josh.

Josh. How would you describe Josh?

Small, quirky, adorable. Probably one of your best friends.

You’ve known the guys for what feels like forever now but it’s closer to almost four years, since you all were practically still kids. Shit, Sam and Danny were actually kids. Growing close with the twins had been easy, and watching them flourish into men and talented musicians has been a pleasure. You feel pretty fortunate that they’ve let you tag along on their journey, which has included meeting girlfriends, and subsequently never talking to them again when they became ex-girlfriends. The group you have now though feels solid, the girls are fun… but you’ll always kind of be one of the guys.

Toes wiggling, sand shifting around and between them, you look down to watch your pastel toenails peek through the surface. Periwinkle. You’d asked his opinion and Josh had chosen the color because he liked the word, then he’d insisted you let him paint them during “film night” the night before you all had left for the beach house.

Lifting your gaze to him, you find him propped up on his elbows, also watching the purpley-blue polish poke through the granules. Never one to miss an opportunity, you kick that same foot out, spraying sand over the top corner of his towel and jerking him violently out of his trance.

“What the hell Y/N!”

“Oops, sorrryyy Joshua!” You’re giggling at him as you pull your foot back and into the shade. “How are you not frying right now? You probably need more sunscreen, your face is red.”

A pink tint is spread over his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose, but he swears to you that he just put some on twenty minutes ago. “Can you do my back though?”

With a dramatic sigh and not without making a spectacle out of lifting yourself from your chair, you grab the sunscreen from your bag and walk to stand over him, your shadow stretching across his body. “You gonna stand up?”

“Just come down here, straddle my butt.”

“Absolutely not,” you feign offense.

“You’re absolutely no fun, my dear,” he jests as he pops up into a crouch then stands, lifting his arms to stretch out the stiffness from leaning on his elbows for too long. You avert your eyes from watching the way his skin moves over his torso as he brings his arms back down and turns his back to you. The sunscreen is rubbed into his warm skin as quickly as possible before you ask him to do yours in return.

When your back is facing him and your hair is gathered and pulled over your shoulder, he squirts it directly onto you from the tube.

“Shit it’s cold!” You jump but he keeps you close with his hands on your shoulders before he starts to rub the lotion in.

He only chuckles at your discomfort, “Sorry princess.” He knows you hate when they call you that. The twins both do it, to get on your nerves, because you’re the exact opposite of a princess. You’ve always held your own, especially with two teenage boys having become your closest friends years ago.

Josh knows that you hate it even more right now, with his hands rubbing firm circles into your skin, his fingers tucked under the straps of your bikini top in front of all of your friends, his family. He moves his hands lower, below the band of your top, to rub the remaining sunscreen into your lower back. The tips of his fingers dip under the top edge of your bikini bottoms and they linger there for just a beat too long before you’re scolding him quietly over your shoulder.

“Josh. That’s enough.”

He drops his hands from you completely and you turn your face back to assess the group’s reactions, but none of them are looking at you. Jake and Sam have laid out on their own towels, Jita is reading and Joy looks like she may have fallen asleep under her umbrella.

“Hey, I’m sorry… Do you wanna go walk down the beach? Would be a shame to waste this fresh sunscreen, let’s find some seashells.” He offers the olive branch with innocence in his voice as you turn back to face him. The look on his face is sheepish, you think to yourself that he looks so boyish, young and guiltless. His curls are grown out and a little wild from the salty breeze and seawater you’ve been living in for the last three days. His skin is glowing, tanned from the sun. How could I say no?

“Yeah, let’s do it. I need more sunscreen though.”

“Want some help?” His smile is full of mischief, his top row of teeth on full display with his bottom lip tucked beneath them, his eyebrows raised suggestively.

“Shut up dummy,” you're smiling with him, laughing at his quip, which is exactly what he wanted. After you feel sufficiently protected from the sun's rays, you call out to the rest of the group. “We’re going for a walk! Anyone wanna join?” You’re met with mumbles and murmurs, an overall “no, go ahead”.

Josh walks ahead of you toward the water and lets the break of the small but steady waves wash over his feet when he reaches it. You stand by his side and do the same when you reach him.

“It’s calm today.”

“It’s perfect. The waves kinda kicked my ass yesterday,” you both snicker a little, remembering Josh getting tossed by one particularly rogue wave that had scooped him off his feet. He hadn’t been able to touch the bottom when he resurfaced. “Let’s walk?”

Nodding your head in agreement, you head south down the beach. Stopping every once in a while to examine a shell, you deem the majority of them unworthy of keeping and move along, chatting easily with each other. You know one another well and conversation has always been comfortable. You pause suddenly, bending down to take a look at a shell that you think has potential and picking it up to show Josh. He disagrees, thinks that the perfect shell is still waiting for you further up the shore. As you agree with him and toss it into the break, you look past him to gauge how far you’ve walked. He glances back to evaluate the distance as well, then turns back to you with a grin. He moves to keep walking and as you fall in step with him, you brush his knuckles with your own. Before your arm can swing forward he grasps your hand, intertwines your fingers, and brings them up to his lips.

After placing a kiss to the back of your hand, he keeps it against his mouth and says, “Thanks for taking a walk with me babe.”

“Of course,” you turn and flash him a beaming smile as you keep strolling, linked together by your joined hands, you think that all of these strangers must assume you’re a couple.

“It’s been difficult to get you alone in that house. Someone is always around, next time we should go somewhere, just the two of us.”

It sounds nice, lovely even, but, “That would seem awfully suspicious, don’t you think?”

“I guess, but… Y/N why don’t we just tell them?”

You and Josh have been sleeping together for maybe six months, no, probably eight by now. It’s been extremely fun, and sneaky, and as far as you can tell it hasn’t changed your friendship at all. That’s all you are, good friends who sometimes see each other naked now.

When you don’t respond, he continues, “I don’t think they would care. And it’s been killing me, you’re walking around in that scrap of fabric you call a swimsuit and I’ve only gotten to take it off of you once, the whole time we’ve been here.” He tugs you closer by your hand and slips his from yours to wrap an arm around your waist. His skin against yours has you feeling hot and you know it’s not from the sun.

“Yeah, but that time was good,” you’re laughing as you think back to two nights ago. Everyone was exhausted from traveling here and hauling their stuff inside, then instantly heading to the beach and spending the whole day in the sun and water. You’d all had the time of your lives, then settled in on the back deck that night, lit only by the ambient light coming from inside the house. You, Joy, Jita and Sam had gotten comfortable in the hot tub while Jake had perched himself onto one of the huge Adirondack chairs, smoked a couple cigarettes and played his acoustic. Josh had joined him and sipped his drink, uncharacteristically quiet.

Two by two, the others had claimed overwhelming tiredness and slipped off to shower and claim their respective shared beds, leaving you and Josh alone in relative silence. The sound of the waves hitting the beach in the darkness had been your only background music. You’d left the hot tub when everyone else did and stood leaning over the railing of the deck, sipping your own drink and watching the moonlight ripple over the ocean.

When Josh had slid up behind you, caging you in with his arms on either side of your body and gripping the bannister beside your own hands, it hadn’t been a surprise. When he’d pressed himself into you with his face nuzzling into your hair until he could reach the bare skin of your shoulder, kissed you there, you hadn’t been shocked. When you could feel him, hard and needy and already rocking his hips against the swell of your ass, you had wanted him too.

He took you there just like that, outside in the moonlight, under the cover of dark and hush of secrecy after sliding the bottoms of your bikini down your legs and slipping himself between them.

“Hmm it was good, it’s better in your bed though. Or on your couch. Or in your shower. Or-“

“I get it!” You reach across yourself to swat a hand at his chest, which he grabs and holds there for just a moment before releasing it. He has you laughing as usual, as he always has even before you’d ventured into this new part of your friendship.

“I’m just saying, they probably wouldn’t care. And if they knew… I could fuck you in a bed later.” He’s dropped the volume of his voice as if anyone around could hear him over the sounds of the water, the atmospheric music from various spots on the beach, the kids playing and digging holes in the sand.

“I’m just not ready yet. I like that it’s just us, it’s just ours. I dunno…” You’re chewing your bottom lip in contemplation. “Let’s give it one more day maybe?”

“Sure, princess. Whatever you want.” He says it affectionately, no sign of disappointment in his tone. “Wanna go swimming? It’s so fucking hot out here.”

You agree easily, you’re sticky and sweating and figure you’ll be heading back to the house once you get back to the others.

Wading into the water, now hand in hand again, you walk out until the small waves are lapping against the bottom of your rib cage.

“C’mere, I need a kiss.” He’s already tugging you to him, lifting you effortlessly in the water and wrapping your legs around his waist. He drops you both down so you’re submerged up to your shoulders.

“Josh, there’s people all over the beach!” You resist but in truth, the beach is starting to clear as the sun begins its descent, your arms are draping themselves over his sun kissed shoulders.

Faces already so close to each other that you can see every freckle that the sun has coaxed from his usually near flawless skin, he says, “They don’t know us, they’re not even looking. Kiss me…”

And you oblige, hardly needing to move closer before your lips are slotted together. His skin is salty from sweat and his earlier dip in the sea and you can taste it on his lips, you open yours and slide just the tip of your tongue over the fullness of his bottom one. A quiet sound akin to a growl rumbles in his throat before his own tongue slips against yours and he deepens the kiss. With his bare chest moving against yours, barely covered by the scrap of fabric you call a swimsuit, floating in the ebbing water you forget for a moment that this is supposed to be a secret. It feels good to be kissing him in the open for once.

The lower halves of your bodies are pressed tight together and you can feel his dick getting hard in his swim trunks.

“Josh…” you break away but stay very close.

“Y/N…” he mimicks. “I could fuck you right here, in front of all these people and they wouldn’t even know. Still our secret.” He presses another quick kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Absolutely not, water sex isn’t even that good anyway and I’m definitely not having ocean water shot up my-“

He cuts you off with his lips, giggling against them.

“You’re vulgar. Fine, but if I don’t get inside you at some point tonight, my vacation is ruined.” With that, he releases the grip he had on your ass, grabs your waist and pulls you below the surface with him.

You’re sputtering and spitting water when you come back up, but you watch as he emerges casually, eyes closed as he runs his hands back over his hair, pushing all of it away from his face. Maybe he’s onto something. He looks beautiful like this, totally in his element in every version of nature, and you’re not sure when exactly you started to see him that way.

He’d made the first move that pushed you toward the place you find yourself now. It had been a night of celebration, the guys had just found out their album had been nominated for a Grammy and regardless of their nonchalance about it, excitement had been high and drinks were being handed out and passed around their parents’ home. Out on the back porch, he’d watched Jake go back inside after the three of you had smoked, you and Josh having shared a cigarette. Once the door was closed, he’d offered you the last hit and then taken it when you declined. Very focused on where he was stubbing the butt out on the wooden railing, he asked you simply, “Hey Y/N… you ever hooked up with a rockstar?”

It was a joke, but it had taken little effort to transition it into a serious proposition. Your curiosity had gotten the best of you and combined with the affection you’d always felt for him, you’d let him kiss you there in the cold. Then you’d let him sneak you back inside, past the slightly inebriated members of his family, and up into his bedroom. It was there that he truly surprised you with talented fingers and a skilled tongue, and an honestly perfect cock. Beautiful, even. You should’ve known, based on the rest of him. I guess that was when I started to see him that way.

“Ready to head back?” He’s watching you watch him, you think he can probably read exactly where your thoughts have wandered off to.

Leaving the water, you ring as much of it out of your hair as you can and comb it out with your fingers as you walk before reaching down to hold Josh’s hand in yours again. You spend most of the journey back in comfortable silence, each thinking about the other in only slightly different ways. You’re trying to figure out how you can get him in your bed later; he’s wondering if you’ll give in and let him tell the others about your little situation, so he doesn’t have to sneak into your bed later.

You’ve almost reached the part of the beach where the rest of your group is camped out before you realize you’re still holding hands. Snatching yours out of his more abruptly than you intend to, you quickly meet his eyes. “Josh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

He cuts off your apology with a shake of his head, a gentle smile gracing his lips. “It’s fine, princess.” He’s not upset and you’re not embarrassed. You’re just not… ready.

You reach the others as they’ve started to pack up, the sun dipping farther to the west quickly.

“Jesus, I thought you guys got kidnapped, or eaten by a shark. I was hoping it was the shark,” Sam offers up his speculation on why you’ve been gone so long. “Help us grab this shit, I’m starving.”

Once you’ve made it back to the house you each take turns rinsing off in the outdoor shower, the couples hopping in as pairs to save time. When they’re done, Josh lets you go in before him as the others migrate indoors to start prepping dinner. From outside the wooden shower stall, Josh speaks so quietly you can barely hear him over the sound of the water hitting the concrete at your feet.

“Can I rinse off with you? No one’s out here. They probably wouldn’t even think it’s weird anyway…”

You pop your head out from behind the plastic curtain to find him leaned against the stall and he raises his head up immediately. The look on your face is one he appreciates, you look like you’re up to no good. A hand shoots out to grab the front of his swim trunks, fingers instantly tucking into the waist and pulling him past the curtain and into the stall, your mouth seeks his out as you pull your bodies under the stream of tepid water. He’s kissing you without question, never passing up an opportunity to have his lips, tongue or teeth on you.

Pulling away, breathless, your hands are already moving to untie his trunks.

“Whoa whoa, out here? They’re waiting on us ohh fuck.” He cuts his concerns short when your hand, now down the front of his shorts, grips his half-hard dick. You give it a few strokes, you need him all the way there.

“You better make it quick then, huh Josh?” You murmur into his ear.

It’s not his favorite way to do things, but you’re persuasive. “Ah, heh, yeah okay,” he stammers out as you continue to work him with firm strokes, now fully hard against your palm. “There’s- shit, we don’t have enough time for me to get you off.”

“Don’t care, later, fuck me or get out.” It’s the last thing you’d want, for him to leave now. You know he won’t. His hands are at your hips instantly, pushing you back against the wood and untying the strings that hold your bikini bottoms together, letting them fall to the ground; you’re pushing his shorts down his body just enough to allow his cock to spring free.

“Let me touch you first, make you feel good.”

“I’m ready, c’mon-“

“Shut up, Jesus okay.” Reaching down he cups you with his hand anyway, before sliding his first two fingers through your lips and finding that you’re correct. His eyes shoot up from watching his own hand, to your face.

Your eyebrow quirks up, a smirk on your face. “I told you. Let’s do this, hurry up.”

He slips his fingers through you one more time before rubbing the slickness of your arousal over the head of his now throbbing dick. “Okay come here,” he reaches down again, this time to grip the back of your thigh and lift your leg to wrap around his hip. His other hand has found the side of your neck where it slips back into your hair and holds tight. Forehead pressed against yours, you’re both looking down, watching as he steps forward just a bit and moves his hips in toward you. One of your hands is on his shoulder and you slide it up to tangle your fingers into his curls, the same way he’s done to yours. Your other hand moves down between your bodies to grip him again, guide the tip through your wetness once and line him up with you.

He pushes his hips into you again, his cock sliding easily past your entrance and bottoming out with a thrust and a quiet grunt let out through his nose. He wishes he could savor the moment like he usually does but you’ve already demanded urgency from him, so as you both continue to watch where your bodies are connected, he begins pumping into you rapidly.

“Just like that, don’t stop,” you’d been a little desperate to have him inside you since your moment in the ocean, the feeling is electric enough to hold you over until you can get him alone again. “It’s so good, fuuuck!”

He pulls his hand from your hair and slaps it across your mouth. Your praise has only encouraged him to go harder, faster, but you’re too loud. “Wish I could do better but you’re fucking rushing me,” he spits out but doesn’t break his rhythm. He’s already close, wishing he had the freedom to hear all the pretty sounds he’s used to drawing from you. “Tell me where you want me, where do you want me to cum? Quietly,” his tone has your eyes meeting his and you nod your head in understanding so he removes his hand from your face then shoves it back into your hair.

“Inside,” you whisper, out of breath.

“God you’re perfect,” he grunts out and thrusts hard, only a few more times before he’s spilling deep inside you, his hips pushed flush against yours and his head dropped to your shoulder.

“Mm I know I am,” you joke, slipping your hand down from his hair and running it down his spine, causing him to shiver under your touch. With a soft tap to his butt before dropping your leg from his hip you add, “you’re not so bad yourself.”

You're both laughing quietly, as always the tone is lighthearted, even when he’s easing himself from your cunt. It’s never that serious.

“Let’s get cleaned up handsome, I’m starving now too.”

“What the fuck is taking you guys so long to do anything today?” Jake is the first to call you out once you’re walking into the kitchen. Damn I really thought that was a quickie.

“My hair was disgusting from the saltwater, needed some extra tender loving care Jakey. You understand, I’m sure,” you’re brushing him off but you throw a wink Josh’s way. Otherwise occupied, Jake doesn’t see it.

“Sure princess, so what’s the annoying one’s excuse?”

You scoff in faux offense for your friend. “He is not annoying, he was being responsible enough to rinse the sand and saltwater off of all of your belongings!” Hoping that’s a decent enough cover, and also tiring of the discourse you leave it at that and ask the girls what you can help with after you change. Running up to your room for a clean t-shirt, you remove your bikini top and throw the shirt on, coming back to assist in just that and your bottoms. Everyone else’s state of dress or undress is pretty similar.

Dinner is casual, most of you eat sitting at the kitchen island while Sam opts to stand against the counter and eat from his plate while it’s still sitting in his hand. You all stay in position as the food disappears and the drinks begin flowing freely. You’re a few glasses into a bottle of red wine, various other bottles litter the island. More wine, clear liquors, dark liquors - everyone is sipping on their drink of choice. Conversation flows easily, usually multiple happening at once and currently you’re telling the girls a story about something or another from when you’d first met the guys. Having picked up on Josh’s dramatic flair over the years, your storytelling is animated and wild, earning genuine laughter from everyone.

Except Josh.

You hadn’t noticed that he didn’t return to his chair after slipping back into the room from a trip to the bathroom. Instead he’d moved through the kitchen and past the island altogether, taking a seat in a chair at the unused dining table. He’s turned the chair so he’s still within the sphere of the group but on the outskirts enough, behind you and slightly to your left, that he feels like an observer more so than an active participant. That’s what he wants, to observe you, watch you blend so flawlessly into his life - making his brothers laugh, making their partners feel included. He’s intrigued by your talent for storytelling, though some of the punchlines are at his expense. He’s in awe of your appearance - carefree and beautiful in his eyes, sun kissed skin and hair wavy from the salt and sea.

You hadn’t noticed him sitting back there, but someone had.

Jake is across the island from you, leaned against the kitchen counter an arm’s length or so from Sam. He’s been enthralled in your tale, though he’d lived the story in real time, but he notices Josh walk by and past the rest of you when he returns. He watches over your shoulder as his twin takes a seat at the table and doesn’t take his eyes off of your back. He catches it when you stand from your seat, reenacting something with your whole body, as Josh’s gaze lands on your still exposed legs and, Jake can only imagine, your ass cheeks peeking out from under your oversized shirt as you move.

Huh. Isn’t this an interesting development?

He’s missed what you said but everyone around the island laughs suddenly, so Jake uses this opening to excuse himself. “Hey Josh, join me for a smoke?”

Josh doesn’t respond, doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s heard his brother speak.

“Josh. Smoke?” Josh reacts this time, shaking out of his silent contemplation and standing to follow Jake out the door to the deck. You react too, Jake having raised his voice to get Josh’s attention. You watch them head outside and move down the deck, out of view before you pour yourself another glass and listen as Sam is now elaborating on something you’d said.

Outside, Jake offers his twin a cigarette and lights them both when he accepts, passing one to him. Josh is leaned back in an Adirondack while Jake posts up against the railing across from him, examining his face closely.

“What are you staring at?”

“Hm, I could’ve asked you the same, inside just now. What were you staring at?”

Josh’s face blanks, rid of any type of reaction, but it’s too late.

“What’s going on with you and Y/N?”

There’s panic rising to the surface, only because Josh knows you don’t want the rest of them to know about you guys. Yet. “What are you talking about Jake?”

“Don’t give me that shit, you’ve been staring at her like you want to eat her alive. It’s so obvious, I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. How long has this been-“

“Nothing is going on.”

“You’re fucking lying,” Jake’s not believing a word of it, he knows his brother better than he knows himself sometimes. “Are you fucking her, or do you just want to?”

“She’s my best friend-“

“Not what I asked. Also, irrelevant. So which is it?”

Josh looks away, past Jake, up at the moon. It’s not sitting in the same place in the sky as it had been when he’d been alone with you out here, too early in the night still.

“Well? Are you fucking her? How long?”

Josh drops his eyes back to his twin’s face, so similar to his own, and sighs. He’s not getting out of this, and he almost doesn’t want to. He can feel the relief within reach, at the tips of his fingers, the release that he’ll feel once the words leave his lips.

On a whisper almost so quiet that Jake doesn’t hear it, he lets it go.

“Eight months.”

“EIGHT MONTHS?” Jake whisper-yells, his eyes bulging out of his skull.

“Eight months, two weeks and three days.”

Oh. Ohhh.

They sit in silence for a few long moments.

“How long have you been in love with her?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Idiot.

Josh leans forward in the chair, elbows on his knees and drops his head into his hands. He rubs them over his face a few times then back over his hair, curls flopping back over his forehead.

“A long fucking time, Jake.”

Part 2 🤍

#greta van fleet #gvf #josh kiskza #josh gvf #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut #gvf fan fiction #gvf fanfiction #gvf smut #gvf fic #jake kiszka #jake gvf

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flowery-mess · 5 months

Note

hiiiii, i saw your requests for noah are open. could you maybe do him with an insecure reader? like she just doesn't like how she looks (particularly her tummy) and he shows her how beautiful she really is to him? preferably smutty with a loooooot of praise <33333

So, I'm sorry it took me few days. To be honest this topic isn't easy for me, cause I like to deal with my insecurities alone, so I didn't really know where to start and go with this. I put these two requests together, hope you don't mind. I also put a bit of myself in there, as I'd like to work for the fire department after college.

Let me know how you like it and if you find any grammar mistakes, let me know, english isn't my first language. Enjoy reading✨

„And then he said that women should not work for the fire department.“ I sighed and sank deeper in the bath, holding glass filled with white wine in my right hand.

„Oh wow, what a captain.“ Noah answered, head against the blue tiles of our bathroom as he was sitting outside the bath with one of his hands also occupied with glass of wine.

“Just acting captain. I really hope they choose someone from the station soon, can’t wait to see him leave. I know he’s the only one with the sexist comments at the station, but lately he’s been showing off his opinions too much and I’m just tired of that. Makes me think I should quit.”

“Don’t you dare do that Y/N. It’ll pass with the new captain. Or file a complaint with others. They got your back. You’re amazing fire fighter, don’t let him ruin that for you.”

Little angry wrinkles showed on Noah’s face as we talked about my job. He was mad that our acting captain was making feel all the female fire fighters this way and he didn’t know how to help with that, but even with the sadness showing on my face, he would never support the thought of me leaving the job. He knows I love it and that I’d be mad at myself and him for letting me do that just for someone who’s stepping up for station without captain.

“I really hope it’s question of days now, the process should be done soon and then he’ll leave.” All the nasty things I had to say about him were washed with the wine down my throat, I didn’t want to ruin one of the first nights Noah’s back home from the tour.

“Yeah I hope too, hate to see you this sad.” His empty hand came on the edge of the bath, looking for mine. When our hands touched, he gave me a little squeeze and we stayed in silence for a moment. Both tired from our jobs, excited for the two days we both had off.

“Can I come in?” Noah asked few minutes of silence later.

“Like in the bath?” I asked the obvious thing and shifted a bit in our big bathtub. I had bubbles covering my body, that made me comfortable. Not like I don’t feel comfortable around Noah, but after months of being apart it felt like he would see me naked for the first time again and that made me nervous. With all the bullshit about women at work, it just made me more insecure about my body, my capability, my whole existence.

“Yes.” He said more as a question. “I enjoy talking to you, but my back is starting to hurt, let me in?”

“I can go out. We can lay down, we’re both tired. We can continue with the talking and wine in bed?” I tried to play it off.

“Why? You went in just a while ago. The water is still warm, let me in and let’s just relax together love.” He said as he got up from the floor. I quickly made sure the bubbles were covering I wanted covered, and Noah noticed.

“What are you doing?” He looked at me, confused.

“Nothing.” I said, not having an honest answer for that.

Noah got his clothes off and went in the bath behind me. I wanted to tell him to sit against me, but then he would be looking directly at my body, and I didn’t like that either.

He sat down and put his hands around my waist and laid us both down. I waited few second, then took his hands and put them more up, around my shoulders. We stayed in the comfortable silence few more minutes, I tried to drink the shame away with the wine, but then Noah put his hands back around my waist and suddenly I felt like crying.

He must’ve sensed something was wrong with the way I became so tense.

“Hey babe, what’s wrong?” he tried to look at my face, but with him sitting behind me it was easy to cover my watery eyes.

“I just-“ I wanted to tell him, I wanted to learn to communicate my feelings better, but it was so hard while being naked, so vulnerable.

“It’s okay, just breathe and talk when you’re ready.” Noah said, hugging me tighter from the back and planting kisses to my shoulders.

I took few shaky breathes as I felt tears running down my face.

“Okay I just, I don’t know what to say. I’m so glad you’re back, but every time you’re on tour and we don’t see each other for a few months I start feeling this way. Like you are seeing me naked for the first ever and I’m ashamed of feeling like that. You never game me a reason to feel bad about myself, so I don’t know why that keeps happening. But with everything going on at work these days, I feel like shit mentally, but keep projecting it to my body and I just don’t want you to see me like that.” I was so proud for getting that off me, felt so good to just let it out. I felt ashamed of what I was feeling, I felt like I was making Noah the bad guy and myself like a hysterical unstable woman, who breaks down after few inconveniences in her life.

“Oh, I didn’t know that. I’m sorry If I would’ve known, I would stay outside. Babe, you don’t have to be shy or feel insecure around me. I saw your body thousands of times and I love it, I love you.” He turned my body a little, just for us to be facing each other. “You’re beautiful, your body and your mind. I’m so lucky to have you. And the station? Same, they’re lucky to have you. You do your job with love and compassion and I’m sure the new captain will see that. I know it’s too much for you now, but don’t ever hide away from me, you don’t have to.” He planted few kisses on my face after his little speech.

I felt more relaxed, but the tension was still there.

“I’m gonna go out and let you have the time you need, okay? I’ll make dinner, then we can finish the wine in bed.” I didn’t need to say a word and Noah knew what I wanted in the moment. He got out of the bath, wrapped towel around his waist, kissed my forehead with little “I love you” and left the bathroom.

I felt at peace after that. I made my routine, got out of the bathroom to find Noah with dinner ready, music playing quietly from the speakers. We ate, we talked, finished the bottle of white wine and went to sleep. I slept with my mind at peace, knowing everything will be alright as long as he’s by my side.

#bad omens #noah sebastian #noah sebastian imagine #noah sebastian band #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens band #bad omens cult #noahsebastian #badomens #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens imagine

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cosmicbucket · 6 months

Text

this is by no means an educated and informative post but rather a severe understatement of the rage i feel over the interview regarding one Gale Dekarios.

under the cut is a stronger criticism on the narrative's integrity with this ending; everything before that is tearing into the lead writer's statements.

note that I will be referencing other companions as contrast. this is not supposed to be tearing them down nor casting shade on anyone who enjoys these characters; i am trying to make a point through relevant comparison.

-----------------------------------------------

"the guy who starts off annoying everyone" that is such a blatantly subjective thing to say about a character.

for me personally, i Loathed shadowheart at first because of the immediate fantasy racism towards lae'zel. this is very clearly a subjective opinion as she's the most romanced companion, and I'm not mad about that in the slightest! she rocks! you can't judge a character on behalf of everyone ever. that's a foolish thing to do, full stop.

"constantly asking you to give him your most treasured possessions to eat" three times. he asks you for a magical item, three times. after that you are NEVER required to part with a magical item on his behalf again.

the game practically THROWS magic items at you for completing side quests, looting crates and chests. magic items are in ABUNDANCE and a lot of them won't be useful to your party depending on your companions and your chosen class. meanwhile, astarion's peculiar diet lasts the entire span of the game, creating a situation where should you choose to let him feed on you every night, you suffer a penalty to attack rolls, saving throws and ability checks OR waste a spell slot to remove the condition. astarion is most certainly in no shortage of fans and again! he rocks! but by comparison his effect on the player can stretch so far as to affect the final boss battle. gale's condition doesn't even make it past the end of act 1.

"at the end, he gives himself for the world" is it worth it though. is it really seriously worth it.

you can still defeat the elder brain yourself. it's not impossible. hell, with the right spells it's really fucking easy. are you seriously going to rob yourself of the satisfaction of defeating the final boss by sending someone to their death instead and calling it a day.

I can understand the narrative catharsis of a character who is so selfish, constantly, over and over, doing something selfless for the greater good.

But that just is not what Gale's story is.

Gale is ambitious and boastful, certainly. Gale is not selfish.

His attempt to impress Mystra - The Mother of Magic, Goddess of the Weave - came from a want to be equals with his partner. He explains how she refused to allow him to witness the depths of magic, and while that's a reasonable thing to enforce to a regular mortal, she had made him her Chosen, her lover. I would hope I don't need to delve into the blatant grooming (ie Elminster approaching Gale at the age of eight) and the obvious power imbalance between a goddess and a mortal in a relationship, but his desires - ambitious as they were - were not selfish.

When he asks for the player's assistance, he does so knowing that he's asking a lot from them, especially in terms of trust. While it's easy to see his pushiness for magic items as self-serving, it is quite literally a much larger problem than him. The damage he's capable of "could level a city", and that affects not just your party but the surrounding area for miles. His urgency, his impatience, comes from having to rely on someone else who might not respect the gravity of the situation (which, evidently, a lot of players don't.)

When he realises the magic items are doing nothing to prevent his hunger, he lays it out plainly to the player, apologising for having broken their trust, and gives them the choice to send him away to certain death with no hard feelings. He even explains his plan to find an Absolutist base and hopefully destroy that in order to aid you in his death, should you choose to kick him out. This is in Act 1, way before any massive character developments - that is to say, he is unselfish from the start.

Come Act 2, when Elminster tells Gale that Mystra expects him to detonate the orb to kill the Heart of the Absolute, Gale is immediately willing. He will answer to his goddess' whims without so much as a query. You don't have to convince him to do it - rather, it becomes your choice to convince him not to do it.

And you do have to convince him! You have to actively make the choice, over and over again, to say no, we can find another way. You are not dying today.

Even in Act 3, should you take him through Zethino's Love Test, you are able to call him out for his greatest flaw:

"He thinks he, and the world, might be better off if he were dead."

I am not calling him selfless by any means; he is not a paragon of virtue. He is, however, a character whose hubris (spurred by an abusive relationship with a goddess) is amply punished, so much so that he believes this punishment is entirely deserved. He is a victim of grooming who is told to kill himself in order to gain forgiveness for trying to be equals with his partner, who took advantage of him as a child.

What kind of message is Larian trying to make here? What are they trying to tell their audience? What are they saying to people who relate to Gale?

It's fucking horrible. Do better.

#rant post #rant #tw grooming #grooming #gale bg3 #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate gale #baldurs gate 3 spoilers #baldurs gate three #baldur’s gate iii #baldurs gate 3 #i really don't have anything else to say #ask to tag #if i've missed anything feel free to shout in the comments or rbs #i started writing this at 3:30am. it's been two hours. goodnight

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decimalpointed · 2 years

Text

Eddie's dad drags him along to steal his first car at age 13. Eddie's excited, nervous, but eager to please his father. He knows his mother wouldn't approve but she's passed out drunk again, so her opinion hadn't been relevant when his father had barged in and swooped him up.

His father takes him to a nice end of town, filled with mansions that are strung up with extravagant Christmas lights to display their wealth and holiday cheer. Eddie doesn't go to these neighborhoods, never has occasion to. They breeze by the residential area and wind up near shopping centers, boutiques with fancy polos and knick knacks.

When they pull into a packed parking lot, filled with last minute holiday shoppers, Eddie can feel nervous sweat dripping down his skin.

"We're gonna have a damn good Christmas this year." His father mumbles, greed in his eyes and breath sour with the stench of alcohol as he scans across the lot for fancy cars. He spots his mark. "There. That one Ed. Do you see it? No cameras pointed towards it. Snow still melting on the hood so engines still warm. Good solid Beemer, real nice car. Will sell for a pretty penny."

Eddie just nods, his fingers shaking as his eyes flit around the lot. There are people going to a from their cars. Its dark, with a gentle flurry of snow but anyone could see them in the well lit lot.

They get out of their own car, the doors sqeaky and rust blooming across the old metal. Eddie cringes at the sound. Its so loud. It feels like eyes are watching all around him. The air feels cold and thin, like its not reaching his lungs right even though he's practically panting.

His dad sidles up to the car, his tools in his pocket and it takes him less than 30 seconds to jimmy the driver side door open and he hits the unlock button so Eddie can scramble into the passenger side.

"Now look here son." His dad takes his tools out, lays them across his lap and gestures to the console. "You see these new fancy cars, there's a little latch right here. You gotta tug it till that snaps and it'll pop right out." He pops the plastic off, revealing the mess of wires beneath. "See easy as that." And then he hands the pliers to Eddie, who fumbles and almost drops them to the fancy floor mats.

"Now you cut this one here and we are gonna cut this other one here. Then we just need to spark em" Eddie follows the instructions, slow and unsteady because all he can register right now is his heartbeat slamming against his ribs.

He strips the wires back and his father takes over, grabs them and clicks the exposed metal together until the car roars to life. He gives a woop and Eddie can't help but give a shakey smile.

"That's it?" Eddie asks, because it feels too easy.

"That's it son." His fathers crooked teeth shine yellow in the streetlight as he grins.

His father puts the car in reverse, backing out and driving nice and easy. He gets them onto the main road and Eddie can finally feel his nerves start to calm.

"Now we are just gonna get this beauty over to Johnny's. Then-" his dad is interrupted by a sound, a small sleepy groan from the backseat and they both freeze.

"Dad? Are you done shopping alread-" The voice cuts off and Eddie swings around and his gaze finds a boy roughly his age, sitting up and looking like a deer in the headlights as he realizes it's not his father driving the car, but Eddie's. Fuck. Shit.

Eddie can feel the tension, flits his eyes to his father who is looking in the rear view mirror, his face shuddering into panic and then swiftly schooling his face into blankness.

"Who are you?" The boy asks wearily.

His father plasters on a fake smile. "Hey kiddo. Ran into your dad in the store with my boy here. He was saying how he was buying you Christmas gifts and didn't want you to see em before the big day. So he asked if I would run you home real quick."

The boys eyes narrow suspiciously and Eddie knows before he opens his mouth that he isn't buying the bullshit his dad is trying to sell him one bit. This has gone sideways and Eddie knows that his dad can't get caught again or he will go away for a long time and then it's just going to be Eddie and his mom who barely was a person these days, drowning herself in booze and pills and powder.

The boy lunges quickly to the door and Eddie hears the click of the locks as his dad beats the kid to it. The car swerves precariously as his dad is distracted.

"Let me out!" The boy yells, a tremor in his voice and the sound makes Eddie want to curl up and hide. This is so fucked. They are kidnapping him. This is a kidnapping.

"Dad-" Eddie begins to plead, to try to reason that this is too far, that he wants no part in this. Fuck the money. Fuck Christmas. He wants to go home and let this kid go home too.

His dad doesn't let him finish, just whirls around with like a cornered viper and lashes out. His fist hits the other kid right in the face and the sound is stark and violent. The boy cries out, immediately gushing blood from his nose. He's letting out terrified whimpers. Eddie is terrified too.

"Shut the fuck up!" His father screams at the boy, the car swerving dangerously and someone honks at them. Hot tears track down Eddie's face and he hiccups out a sob. His father rounds on him next, "Shut the fuck up!" He repeats, this time lashing out towards his own son.

The boy is cowering against the backseat, blood and tears on his face as Eddie shrinks into his own seat. What thw fuck is happening?

"Jesus fucking Christ. Shut up shut up shut up." His father is losing control, panicking. Eddie knows to keep himself scarce when his dad gets like this, violent and unpredictable, but he can't run while trapped in a moving car.

Eddie can't run away. His throat feels like its closing, like there's no oxygen in this stolen little car. Maybe the other kid sucked it up for himself. He can't run away. The doors are locked and they are kidnapping someone and he can't get away.

His father is shouting, rage in his tone but the words become jumbled and lost in the ringing thats taken over Eddie's ears. The other boy is crying, the sound of alarm like battery acid along his nerves, tingling and burning and awful.

Eddie doesn't register what he's doing until he has his hands on the wheel, trying to wrench it from his father's hold. There's screaming, and the blair of car horns, but Eddie just wants to make this night stop, wants to make the boy stop crying because it's making something primal in Eddie terrified, wants his father to just pull the car over because this is too fucking much.

The world goes sideways, crunching metal and glass and then Eddie feels the cold gentle snowfall against his face. There's warmth dripping from his hairline, and lights blur in and out of focus. Sound is muffled, and his brain sluggish when he turns to look around.

His father is there, head pushed against the shattered windshield at an awkward angle, red stark against his pale skin. His eyes are closed, his body still. Pain laces through Eddie and he cries out as he shifts away from the sight. The world is sluggish and slow. He smells pine and salty tangy blood.

He hears another whimper and turns and behind him the boy is still there, still huddled down and trembling with wide brown eyes in the backseat. Glass glitters in his hair. It looks kind of magical Eddie thinks in a daze.

A siren cuts through the fog he's in, snapping the world back into focus and it's like a dip into fridge waters. There's so much at once. Eddie can see the flash of red and blue, drawing closer.

Cops. Oh God cops. He can't be here. He looks to his dad, still unmoving and slumped against the steering wheel. He will never be able to drag him out in time. He won't be able to stop the cops from finding them like this.

He hears the boy shifting in the back and then the crunch of metal as he shoves the door open. Eddie scrambles out of the car right after, adrenaline punching through his veins.

The boy stands, legs trembling and puts his arms around himself to stave off the cold. The lights draw close, bathing him in the colors and once again Eddie's brain fizzles just a bit, caught off guard at the sight.

He doesn't have time to think, can't come up with a plan or a story to get his dad out of this. But he can run now. He can get away. The forest looms dark ahead of them where they've wrecked the car up against a row of pines.

Eddie stumbles up, worn out shoes sliding in the snow and he heads for the tree line. He stops just at the edge when he hears the boy again, a soft scared sound warbling out of his throat.

Fuck his father for getting them into this mess. Fuck his father for hitting the poor kid. Fuck his father for making another little boy cry. Eddie's used to it. Eddie can handle it. His heart bleeds to hear it come from someone else.

Even still, there's something inside him that knows he can't let his dad get caught kidnapping some kid.

Eddie whirls around and sprints to the boy, grabbing his hand tightly in his own. "Come on." He hisses to him. "We have to run now." And then he tugs him along into the dark safety of the forest as the lights pulls up, the cop car skidding to a stop.

"Wait, but-" the boy protests, but doesn't stop keeping pace behind Eddie.

"Please." Eddie pleads, because he doesn't know what they are doing, but he knows cops are bad news and he knows his dad will go to jail again but maybe it won't be so long if he doesn't have a fucking kidnapping charge to add to the car theft. "Please just trust me."

They lock eyes, brown mirrors of terror, and there's no reason to trust him at all, but he feels it, the chance that maybe he will.

And he does. The boy nods and goes quiet and picks up the pace, his chilled fingers squeezing onto Eddie's like a lifeline as they stumble through the woods.

They can't see the lights or hear the sirens anymore when they finally slow down. Their breath visible in the cold night air, both panting and shivering from the temperature and the nerves. Eddie can't find it in him to drop the warm point of contact between them.

Eddie doesn't know what he's going to do. He could go home to his mother, probly still numb to the world around her, but the cops would be there soon enough. He can probly stay at a friend's but then there's the problem of the kid he's dragging around that has a bloodied face and a quickly darkening bruise on his eye.

"Where are we going?" The boy asks him, loud in the quiet of the night.

"I-" Eddie stumbles over his words, grasping for an answer. "I dont know." He hears the resignation in his own voice, the lost quality.

The boy squeezes his fingers and its grounding. His tears have all dried. "It's okay. I dont know where to go either." He runs his other hand through his hair and some glass tumbles out and he giggles. Eddie smiles at him. Its an adorable sound. He knows its probly just the high from the adrenaline making they giddy but. Its nice. "Your dad is kinda scary. Is your mom nicer?"

"No." Eddie says automatically. "Well yeah, but not really. She doesnt say much"

"My parents don't say much either. To me. I mean they say alot, just not like. To me. " The boy trails off. "I'm Steve by the way."

"I'm Eddie." This is weird. Small talk with a boy he and his dad had unknowingly kidnapped. Really weird.

"My dad will be pissed about his car. He just bought it." Steve says and Eddie cringes.

"I'm sorry." That doesn't feel like enough. "I'm so fucking sorry. He, my dad, we just wanted to have a good Christmas. We didn't know you were there."

"Its okay." Steve says easily, like he wasn't just a sobbing mess. "I mean it sucks and my face hurts but. Well my dad probly didn't even remember I was in the car either. So. " He shrugs. "Is your head okay?"

Eddie had forgotten about his head, but he reaches up and feels the blood, sticky and congealed and clumping itchy. It hurts when he presses in tentatively, but not the worst he's ever had.

"I think its okay. It doesn't hurt much. Is your face okay?"

"Does it not look okay?" Steve looks a little panicked again, reaches up and touches his nose gingerly.

"No! No it looks good" Eddie tries to reassure. "Pretty as a peach Stevie. Just a little bruised. " and then he cringes because did he just say that?

"Oh." Eddie can't tell what kind of tone that is. Waits for the other boy to get angry, but he doesn't. Just keeps pace as they walk along.

"So should I just take you home?" Eddie asks, because they kinda need to make a plan. They can't keep wandering the woods all night.

But Steve's face kind of scrunches, then winces when there's pain at the movement. "Where are you gonna go?"

Eddie isn't sure. His mind scrambles to think of a place to go. Uncle Wayne lives in the next state over. He could probly stay there until things cool off a bit. His mother will come out of her daze to come get him eventually.

"I think im gonna go to my Uncles? He lives in Indiana."

"How are you gonna get all the way to Indiana?" Steve asks, eyes wide and brown and curious.

"Hitchhike? Or there might be a train that goes that way i could hop on." Its winter and cold, so maybe the train isn't the best idea. But well, he doesn't have much of a choice.

"That's so far away though." Steve's got concern glittering in his eyes. "Is that safe?"

"Safer than going home. The cops will see our footprints in the snow. They'll probly go to my house soon as they lock up my dad."

"Can I come?"

Eddie stops walking, sways in place. What? Steve stops beside him and turns to him.

"Why would you wanna come with me to Indiana? We just kidnapped you!"

"Well your dad kidnapped me technically, which apparently was an accident. You tried to stop him. You tried to protect me." Steve looks so earnest. He looks pretty in the moonlight, soft snowflakes falling around them. "And I can return the favor if I go with you. Protect you till you get to your uncles. Then I can call my parents to come get me."

And thats such a crazy leap of logic. Steve isn't any bigger than Eddie is, all gangly teenage limbs and hadn't really put up any fight while they were in the car. Its such a stupid idea.

But there's warmth blooming in Eddie's chest because yeah, it might be kinda nice to have some company. Safer for sure, and if they did take the train they could huddle together to keep warm instead of risking getting the wrong kind of trucker pulling over to give them a ride. Maybe they could even be friends.

Thats stupid. A rich boy being friends with trailer trash who tried to steal his car and then wrecked it with him in it. But no matter how stupid, it's a nice thought. Maybe they could just play pretend for a few days. They weren't too old for that yet.

"Okay. Yeah okay." A laugh bubbles out of him because its rediculous, but Steve laughs too. "You can be my knight in shining armor, escorting the runaway rogue after a heist gone sideways."

"You're weird." Steve says, but there's no malice in it. Just mirth tinged with confusion.

Eddie tightens his fingers around Steve's and turns them south, towards the rail yards where they can hop on a train.

(I just started typing and then this happened. Feel free to use this, expand on it, whatever. I just loved the idea of the boys being young runaways together, hopping trains and getting into rough situations and becoming codependent and ending up with Wayne taking them both in and them growing up together and pining since they were kids. I might continue this. I might not. We will see.)

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rainbowvamp · 1 year

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"Well, it's nearly midnight. How much do you know about human New Years customs."

1 hour writing spree. Happy New Year. Ring it in with a Hob and Dream first kiss fic, on the house <3

------

Hob spends all day cooking in the new inn. prepping for the New Years Eve party that the inn is having. He is exhausted by the time the New Years party actually comes around.

He turns to his co-owner and tells her that he needs a power nap at around 9pm. She didn't come in until 5, so she's good to be alone for an hour or so so hob can make it through till midnight.

Hob goes up to his flat and lays down. He falls asleep and then pretty quickly after that, he starts to dream.

The dream is nice, but relatively inconsequential. Just Hob going about his business in the New Inn with an increased amount of surreality. It feels so normal to his mind that he doesn't wake up for midnight.

At about 11:55pm BST, Dream pops into his dream. Hob is wiping down the counter and smiling at him, and thinking how lucky he is to be seeing his stranger when he didn't expect to.

And Dream feels that gratitude. How Hob feels about him.

"Your party is awaiting you, Hob Gadling." Dream knows just about everything, and he knows that Hob is supposed to be enjoying this time with his friends. His friends who he cares for in the waking world. He thinks it is a kindness to tell his friend the time.

"What do I need that for, when everything I want is right here?" Hob grins, pouring Dream a glass of wine and pushing it over the bar to him before serving himself a whiskey. The pub that had been occupied before now contains no one but the two of them, completely by Hob's doing. Dream can feel the way that this is intentional for Hob, removing possible distractions, possible people to take Dream's attention away from himself. Dream smiles affectionately, remembering Hob's confession of how the (perceived) Shakespeare slight affected him.

"You would profess that I am all you want?"

"I don't often say things I don't mean, duck." The easy way Hob calls him by a nickname makes Dream feel a fluttering sensation in the area where his chest has manifested.

"What would you ask of me then, if I am truly all you wish for." Dream sits at the bar in front of Hob, and Hob leans over the bar, arms braced wide and face nearer to Dream's than it has been in most of their time acquainted.

"Well, it's nearly midnight. How much do you know about human New Years customs." Hob's smile would be blinding if Dream was anything less than an anthropomorphic personification. As it was, it was a little bit stunning.

"I am aware of all human customs. I am the embodiment of fiction and fantasy, dream and nightmare." Dream offers back his own small smile.

"Well, what do you know about ringing in the new year?"

In the background, a television that hadn't been on (or even present) starts counting down to midnight.

"10... 9... 8..."

"I know that humans have a variety of traditions for it." Dream leans over the bar, closer to Hob. Close enough to be held. Close enough to be kissed.

"7... 6... 5..."

"Any opinions on that variety?" Hob leans in, that centimeter more. His breath glances over Dream's mouth.

"4... 3... 2..."

"I find them... interesting. I might enjoy participating in them. With the right guidance."

"Mhmm,"

"1!"

Fireworks go off in the waking world, but Dream keeps Hob's consciousness firmly in the Dreaming as the immortal leans in and closes the distance between their mouths.

For the two of them, the turning over of a human year means little. They have the capacity to be infinitely old, and experience infinite New Years. For them, this moment doesn't mark the beginning of a new year, but the beginning of a new dimension to their relationship.

When Hob pulls away, his eyes are heavy lidded, and Dream has the urge to pull him back. Dream has never done anything by halves. He loves Hob, in a way he has not chosen to love someone in a long time. He leans in and kisses Hob again, just for good measure. Just because he can. Just because it is a new year, and there is some new component to them, and he wants to celebrate that.

Hob knows that this is real, and Dream is himself, before he pulls away again. His face is a combination of awe and desire. Dream finds he quite likes it.

"Take me to your residence, Hob. Allow me to ring in the new year with you."

"Gladly." Hob grins and reaches over the bar to grab Dream's face and kiss him hungrily, one more time, before dragging him upstairs.

#dreamling #dream x hob #hob x dream #tried to post this at midnight but missed it by like 2 minutes and then got distracted #my writing #lore writes about dreamling

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atopvisenyashill · 10 months

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what do u think of ned and sansa’s relationship?

sorry this took so long, i wasn't sure how to lay it out because i didn't just want to word vomit all over lol.

i think it's a great depiction of grief and trauma "dripping through" so to speak (to steal a succession line) from a parent to their child. ned and sansa are similar in many ways (in fact, I'd argue that Sansa is the most like Ned) and you can see clearly that Sansa gets her outlook on life and society more so from her father than her mother. While Cat is much less trusting, much more forceful, and incredibly emotional, Ned has a much more romanticized idea of the world. He makes many of the same mistakes that Sansa does, as a matter of fact -

they both trust Littlefinger despite the warning signs because they both feel they have no other option and no allies to rely on, so this shady guy obsessed with Cat is the least noxious option (in their eyes)

they both have this idealistic image of a Baratheon that is tied more to reputations and romanticism than in that particular man's personality - Ned should realize that he can't rely on Robert literally the moment Robert refuses to step in to protect Lady but keeps deluding himself because Robert the Hero, Robert the King, Robert the Foster Brother, is this larger than life image he has in his mind. Meanwhile, Joffrey is...Joffrey and Sansa overlooks and romanticizes this because The Chivalrous Prince is this idea that is all powerful in her head.

they both think around a subject rather than face it head on. I detailed an example of this here but there's literally dozens of examples in both of their narratives. it's this commonality that I find particularly interesting; it's not just that they're very indirect people but that when faced with trauma, both of them double down on avoiding their trauma to cope with it.

in particular, they both do this wrt a younger sister which is even more fascinating in my opinion - so easy to have Ned think more often around Brandon but instead it's Lyanna he Does Not Obsess Over, and it's Lyanna he compares Sansa to (even though they likely look nothing alike). Later, it would be easy to have Sansa think more about her brothers but again, it's Arya she Does Not Obsess Over, and we know Arya likely resembles Lyanna to a point. Just something really fascinating there, that the relationship they are most troubled by is one with a little sister.

and in that vein, both of them will romanticize their own trauma to cope with it. we see this obviously with sansa and the Unkiss but I think it's present in his thoughts of the Tower of Joy as well. his fever dream in eddard x is steeped in fantasy imagery, with his companions as faceless wraiths, a "storm of rose petals" streaking across the red sky. he does this with rhaegar as well in my opinion - when he does think of rhaegar the man (and not just of his children) he has this image of Rhaegar as a chivalrous sort of man who no one can really measure up to and yet he never explicitly thinks anything positive about Rhaegar. once again, sort of romanticizing his idea of someone, like Sansa does with Sandor.

both of them are incredibly self conscious about how they're perceived - Ned thinks about his father and brother as being "born" to rule, is very aware that people see him as kind of an idiot, and Sansa is equally worried that people will see her as "silly" or simple. It seems very tied to their roles as the "girlson" - Sansa as the eldest daughter who must make an illustrious match and live up to that expectation of her and Ned as the second son stepping in to fill a role he feels unprepared to take.

despite some paternalism about the poor (Ned sitting a man with him every night while also kind of purposefully distancing himself to be The Benevolent Father of Winterfell and Sansa's out of pocket but realistic comments about Jeyne and Mya's marriage prospects), they clearly care about the common or low born people they live with - I think Sansa's grief (and purposeful Thinking Around) over Jeyne Poole going missing and her insistence that Jeyne's father is safe speaks to her affection for the Pooles just as Ned's fixation on Jory Cassel being murdered by Jaime also speaks to his affection for the Cassels. And just from an audience PoV, I think it really underlines Ned and Sansa's horror over the situation that Ned is traumatized by Jory's death at the hands of the Lannisters, and Sansa thinks over a year later about "poor Jeyne Poole" and her disappearance (due to the Lannisters, though she's ultimately sold by LF)

And then there's the emotional distance between them, that I think is really compounded by his trauma over Lyanna and Sansa's age -

Ned ultimately learns the wrong lesson from Lyanna's death. He doesn't learn "women shouldn't be given so few options and should be allowed control over their lives" he learns "if i protect the women i love from the evils of this world and give them freedom when they're young, they'll be happier" and that's just. Oh Ned.

But that "lesson" is really obvious in how he treats Sansa - he keeps her in the dark while putting her in a dangerous situation, because he doesn't want her to be involved in the same politics that killed Lyanna even as he's actively involving her in those politics. His first thoughts about Sansa in the book are that she's too young to be engaged to Joffrey! He does not want to let her go out into the big bad world and he thinks simply keeping the bad stuff from her mind is how he'll save her.

The Lady situation I think is what really damages their relationship; he links Sansa and Lyanna in his mind so closely during this scene that I think it stops him from being able to emotionally connect with her anymore. It's so tragic - to see Lyanna's sorrow reflected in Sansa, to feel that loss so deeply that it stops him from being able to comfort Sansa the way he comforted Lyanna as she died.

all of this really bites him in the ass because Sansa looks at his silence and sees treachery while Ned looks at her silence and sees obedience. And the moment when both of them are finally ready to act and not just dream is when their stories clash horrifically.

Narratively, I think they're set up to have some parallels - Ned as the second son (and what is a second son than a girlson, really) who was never supposed to inherit who does after a violent tragedy, and Sansa as the second born who was also never supposed to inherit who will after a violent tragedy.

And Ned's story is book ended by Ned choosing his love of a young female relative over his honor - he actually compares Sansa to Lyanna first in his narrative:

He could still hear Sansa pleading, as Lyanna had pleaded once.

and it's Sansa who he once again chooses over his word, over his honor. when he looks at Sansa (and Arya) all he sees is his grief. It leads all three of them to their doom, but Ned's death is something he would choose over and over because in the end, with all his faults, Ned did learn one good lesson from Lyanna and it's that a living, breathing woman will always be more important than some words spoken before a king. what is honor compared to the feel of your daughter in your arms, the memory of your sister's smile?

#ned stark #sansa stark #fathers and daughters #valyrianscrolls #asks #getting on my soap box #oh my god this is so long. i think i did just word vomit actually i'm sorry #Septa Mordane gets piss ass drunk and falls asleep and a heavily dissociating JOFFREY is the one to step up and get Sansa home #where she's promptly left alone with a man twice her age who trauma dumps and then threatens to kill her. LIKE? HELLO??#i got two more asks in my inbox no i did not miss them i promise. just busy and tired

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kinfanfiction · 1 year

Text

Charlie Eppes x Fem!Reader - Chapter 1 - Can’t Face Her

A/n: I absolutely had to write this. I am invested in Numb3rs and I am dedicating this to it’s small fandom because there’s truly not enough Charlie x Reader fics out there. I love Charlie and this is my favorite role that I’ve seen David Krumholtz in. Anyways I went with the two comments on my opinions needed post and with the reader staying near Charlie rather than moving away. We’ll be starting off with before season 1 starts. The reader convinces Charlie to visit his mother before she passes. Enjoy the angst!

P.S. I stated this when posting my Bernard fic, but I know it’s not likely a lot of the same people that read that will read this and vise versa; I am 100% willing to edit and repost this for NB and Masc readers!! (Not that I even use pronouns or gendered terms that much because 2nd person is helpful in that way, but for the times I do I’d like to make my fics more gender inclusive by making more copies of them with different sets of pronouns!)

Not long after the Eppes found out that Margaret had been diagnosed with stage four cancer, after they told all family, you and your parents were the first friends to know. You had noticed something was going on with Margaret when you’d gone to visit their house the past few times, and now you finally knew what. While Alan and Don stayed at her side, you went to get them groceries so they didn’t have to step away for even a second. You put away the groceries and peeked into Alan and Margaret’s bedroom where she lay, and your heart shattered at the sight. The state of her had gotten much worse since the last time you visited.

Margaret was like a second mother to you, she’d watched you many times as a child when your parents couldn’t. Seeing her like this wasn’t easy. You knew she’d refused chemotherapy, in spite of Alan’s wishes. She didn’t want to suffer the pain of treatment on top of the pain she was already fighting. Deep down, she knew she wasn’t going to survive this. She seemed strangely at peace with this, though no one else was. You kneeled at her bedside and gave her a soft smile as tears pricked your eyes. She returned the smile. “Hey, Margaret... how are you feeling?”

“The best anyone can when they’re dying.” She gave a shrug and chuckled dryly. “Darling, I’m with my family, minus one member, I’ll be alright.” She assured, grabbing your hand. Her “Minus one.” Comment made you realize Charlie wasn’t there, and you hadn’t seen him when you walked in. You knew what that meant. You sighed and kissed Margaret’s hand before getting up to find your best friend.

“Charlie!” You shouted as you approached the shed where the young man always hid when he couldn’t handle his grief. He channeled it into an impossible math equation that had never been solved. He knew it would lead to no end, and that was the point. A permanent distraction. Unfortunately, it was never permanent, and made his overall grieving process more painful as a result. You slid the wooden door open and stepped inside to see exactly what you’d expected to. Blackboards were put up at every angle available within the shed, and Charlie was scribbling equations onto them with a concentration fueled by emotions you knew were related to his mom’s illness.

“Charlie...” You spoke his name again, quieter now, and with a hint of despair. “You can’t hide in here forever. I know it’s hard but you have to come out of here.” He just ignored you and kept scribbling. The squeaking of the chalk on the blackboards was beginning to bother you more with each second. You knew words weren’t going to do anything, so you grabbed his arm and made him turn around. He gave you a frustrated look, or at least tried to, but sadness shone in his eyes.

“Not now Y/n, I’m in the middle of an important calculation.” You furrowed your eyebrows and snatched the chalk out from his hand.

“Screw your calculations!” You exclaimed with frustration, but then you quickly calmed your tone. “Charlie... I know this is hard for you.. But I also know you’ll regret not spending this time with your mother.” You tugged on his arm to get him to look away from his work, and when he looked at you, he looked angry.

“I need to focus! And- and you’re distracting me!” He yelled, pulling his arm away from you. You were surprised, because he hardly raised his voice, and especially not at you. “I need you to go, I have work to do.”

“Oh, come on Charlie you know this equation is pointless-”

“I said go!” He yelled louder. He hardly let you get a word in. You knew you weren’t going to get anywhere with this argument, so you huffed and left.

Over the next couple months, you visited frequently, bringing food and comfort into the Eppes home. Your parents came too when they could. Every time you’d visit, you popped in to check on Charlie, who was working on the same equation. You always tried to say something to encourage him too see his mother, but he just brushed you off and kicked you out. It hurt, to say the least, but you knew his dismissive nature had nothing to do with you. He was in pain, and he refused to acknowledge it.

Eventually, it came down to Margaret’s final days. You knew it was now or never, so you went into the shed and took off the headphones he had been wearing, took the chalk out of his hand, and turned Charlie to make him face you. Deep down, he was glad you did. He hated how he’d pushed you and his family away, but he hadn’t been ready to feel the full effects of his grief. “Charlie. I know you hate this as much as the rest of us, but please. I’m begging you. Leave this shed, leave your work behind, and come see your mom. A future version of you will be glad you did.” He looked at you with an unreadable expression, first seeming frustrated, then confused, then his face dropped completely, and you could see tears forming in his eyes that quickly began to fall. You quickly wrapped your arms around him and let him sob into your shoulder until he was ready to speak.

“I can’t... I can’t face her. I’m scared. I don’t want to believe she’s dying. I know she is, I just.. Oh god, Y/n. My mom is dying. I c-” Then he burst into more sobs, and your heart continued to shatter, like every piece in your chest was just determined to continue breaking off into smaller pieces until your heart was just a pile of sand. “She has always been so strong, lifted me up when I was weak, I don’t think I can be the strong one.”

You shook your head and gently ran your fingers through his curly hair to calm him. “You don’t have to be. If anyone needs to be strong, I’ll do it. Your family is like my second family, I will be here with you all, my parents will come visit. We’ll be the strong ones, we’ll help you all through this. Your mom wants you by her side. I know it’s easier to be here, surrounded by something familiar and comfortable, but you’ve got to escape what’s comfortable and be with your family. They need you.”

“No, they don’t need me. They’ll be okay if I stay here.” He spoke, trying to convince himself there was truth in his words.

“They do need you. I promise you they do. This impossible equation is not what's important now. Come see her, just for a little bit. As long as you can handle.” Charlie didn’t respond for a long moment. He was regulating his breath and trying not to cry again, and you continued holding him, not letting go until he did.

He took another deep breath before speaking, “Okay. I’ll try.. I love my mom, I do, I just-”

“I know. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Let’s go.” You led him out of the shed and the two of you walked back into the house, and on the way there, he grabbed your hand and held it tight.

You stepped into the master bedroom and Margaret’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Y/n. Thank you for bringing him.” She smiled, and Charlie knelt at her side, grabbed her hand, and then he couldn't help it, he just cried. Don noticed and knelt beside him, giving him a side hug as they both looked at their mother. Alan was knelt beside her on the other side of the bed. You stood in the doorway, and with all her boys at her side, she beamed at you and mouthed another ‘Thank you.’ She looked tired, yet content. You nodded, blew her a little kiss and left. They needed this. Just the four of them.

The next morning, your parents shook you awake to inform you that Margaret had passed away peacefully in the night. Your heart dropped, but you knew that Margaret at least got to see her husband and both sons one last time, and once she had that, she was ready to go. You got ready and ran over to see the Eppes, your parents following behind you. Margaret’s body had already been taken away, and all three men still stood around her deathbed. Don was holding onto his brother, with Alan wrapping himself around both of them. Then they let go as you and your parents walked in. Your father gave Alan a hug, your mother gave Don a hug, and you gave Charlie a hug. You all cried. Once all immediate tears had been shed, you sat around in the living room and talked about the wonderful woman you’d all had the pleasure of knowing while she was alive. Alan told the most stories. You held onto Charlie’s hand the whole time, making sure he knew you were supporting him.

After a while of talking, you and your parents cooked lasagna, Margaret’s favorite. You had to make sure the family was still eating. You knew grief made people lose their appetite, it had happened to you before. You sat around and talked some more, but not long after dinner begun Charlie got up from the table and went up to his room. You followed soon after. You opened the door to find him exploding into uncontrollable sobs. You ran over to sit beside him and wrap him up in your arms. “You’re right. I should’ve spent more time with her. I’m such an idiot, and now she’s gone-” You quickly shushed him to shut down his spiraling.

“Shhhh, Charlie, it’s good that you saw her when you did. She was holding on for you, when you showed up, she finally felt ready to pass on because she had all the most important people in her life at her side. Don’t regret the time you spent away from her, be kind to yourself for spending what time you did with her. Charlie she loved you, she understood why you needed to be away. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” You assured him softly, and he couldn’t find the words to respond, but your words consoled him, and he calmed down again. “Let’s go back downstairs and finish eating dinner, alright?” He considered just hiding away in his room for the night, but knowing you would be sitting beside him made him feel more prepared to go back to the table.

The rest of the night felt calm, but the heavy air in the room still weighed on you all. Your parents went home, but you decided to stay, because you wanted to look after the grieving family. Your parents came back later to bring you an overnight bag, and you dressed in your pajamas and got ready for bed before lying down in the guest bed. You laid awake for a while, thinking about Margaret being gone, and the state in which you’d seen the Eppes that you knew would last. As you thought quietly about all the sweet moments you’d had with the woman over the years, you heard a knock on the door. “Come in!” You hollered. Charlie creaked the door open and saw that you were laying in bed, and assumed he’d interrupted you trying to sleep.

“Oh I’m sorry! I didn’t realize I- I’ll let you sleep.” He quickly began to close the door.

“Charlie, I know none of us are sleeping at a normal hour tonight. Come in.” You insisted. He paused for a moment, then nodded and quietly slipped into the room and sat down beside you.

“There’s nothing I really want to talk about right now, I just didn’t want to be alone.” You nodded and scooted over to make more space for him to lay beside you, and he did. You both laid side by side on your backs, staring at the ceiling in silence. It reminded you of all the nights you’d spent at each other’s houses, staying up and talking about anything you could think to discuss. Though this time, no words could convey what you both felt. After a while, you heard him begin to snore, and soon you drifted off as well.

#charlie eppes #numb3rs #fem reader #don eppes #david krumholtz #x reader #y/n #chapter 1 #charlie eppes x reader

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sicklyseraphnsuch · 8 months

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I think my biggest complaint about the series, Fionna and Cake, was that up till episode 8, they were doing a pretty good job of laying out all the pieces, but then!

it just completely misses one of the problems it does a pretty good job of laying out. it points out that Simon is inattentive - blind. But Simon's not blind because he doesn't care! Simon's blind because he cares too much - he's quick to jump to conclusions - he's trapped in his own head! no crown required

ive said it before and ill say it again: he romanticizes his past so he makes his present look hopeless, he cant talk to Marcy because he just believes that his troubles aren't worth her attention - he's unable to see past his own opinions to like maybe think, Marcy loves him and would love to help him, that his opinion of being a burden is not in fact a shared opinion - its not a fact, period

it's not a matter of "think of Marcy" as in do it for her sake, it's a matter of "think of Marcy" as in would she really say that or are you putting words in her mouth - like simon, maybe your mental image of Marcy's a little OOC, bud

it shares a root with Simon thinking everything is great with Betty when it wasnt, Simon thinking everything is awful when it doesnt have to be

Which never gets addressed! By pointing out his blindness, we only got to one half of the problem!

The series just never ties up what it started

Here's Winter King, where Simon gets a good look of himself from the outside view, and see how his myopic perspective can be taken to dreadful extremes

And then, we see the love story from Simon's perspective and we notice Fionna pointing out all of Simon's blindspots

and then! He just... He never connects the dots. that maybe hes a little... self absorbed and his self loathing is masquerading as sense and logic when its not! its just self loathing! Even worse, he never even starts to, and it doesnt get included in the big spoonfeeding at the end of the series!!

which just reveals bigger faults within the story!!

Like, never giving Simon space to reflect explodes in the audience's faces when the story has to infodump at the last second!

that reveals that they should have started simon's journey to realization earlier especially when thr narrative already put the pieces there! Now its so obviois that any time he could have been spent spinning his little mental wheel, he spent trying to survive his road trip across the multiverse

it did his character disservice because by pushing all of his ability to reflect in a single episode, and spamming the exposition, it made simon look real stupid, and moreover never explores the issue fully!

everything casper and nova said could have been said earlier and better and not in the form of a kid's story, because by simplifying the issue - or dumbing it down - then the issue's nuances and complexities get lost in translation

yeah, thats very easy to misinterpret actually!!! especially when casper and nova doesnt even cover the whole problem!! (and look i get it, some audiences need it to be spelled out but really, a children's choose your own adventure??? that was the narrative tool to use here??)

#adventure time #fionna and cake #simon petrikov

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polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup · 3 months

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what do you think was the moment that yuuji and megumi realised that they liked the other? which one of them made the first move? what would tsumiki’s opinion be of yuuji?

Let’s start with the easy one—Tsumiki would love Yuuji.

She’d be unspeakably thrilled Megumi found someone, and she’d love Yuuji for who he is anyway. He’s a good person. He has a great heart. And he genuinely cares about her brother. Yuuji and Tsumiki would be so disgustingly close. Megumi would be on the phone with Tsumiki and Yuuji would be like “is that my best friend???? Let me talk to her! Bestieee” And vice versa.

As to when they first realized they liked each other, I think Megumi borderline always knew.

I think Megumi is someone who is very self aware with what he’s feeling and has absolutely negative ability to actually address that. He knew before they went to the detention center that he liked Yuuji in a sort of vague, low level kind of way.

Like, was it love? No, they’d only just met. But Yuuji was genuinely kind and good. Megumi liked spending time with him. He was Strong and Fast in a way that made Megumi learn things about himself that he did not fucking know before.

I think that megumi very very rarely likes people, and that he probably never dated in pre-canon. So he wasn’t really prepared for liking Yuuji or planning to act on this.

It was in no way actionable information. Confess? Absolutely not. Experience the mortifying ordeal of being known? Ludicrous. Clown idea. He’ll put all these feelings down somewhere small and then one day he’ll die.

I think he regretted it after Yuuji died. I think a part of him wished he had told him, even if they would have never had time.

I think Yuuji didn’t even know he liked guys until he liked Megumi.

If I’m being silly (and being in the sea glass gardens universe), he didn’t realize until Nobara pointed out that his violent jealousy towards Okkotsu Yuuta, gods perfect man, regarding his relationship with Megumi was not a totally straight experience that he liked Megumi and it crippled him for days. He kept laying on the floor of Nobaras room and having baby’s first gay crisis. Nobara was ready to put him down like a sick dog.

If I’m being more serious, I’d like to think that Yuuji realized he liked Megumi during one of their softer moments together.

I think it was nothing of note. They were watching a movie together. Megumi made a dry, tiny joke that was par for the course when it came to his humor, and Yuuji thought to himself man, I love him. And he realized he didn’t just mean it the way he usually means it for his friends.

He didn’t realize how much he liked him until it already happened. Then he was in it, and he couldn’t get out again.

Then he kept lying on the floor of Nobara’s room having baby’s first gay crisis and she was ready to put him down like a sick dog.

I think that the one who made the first move would actually heavily depend on circumstance. I think Yuuji’s more like to make the first move in peacetime, but megumi’s more likely to do it when they’re in the heat of the moment/verge of death.

Yuujis a bit better with emotions than Megumi. He’s got that little bit extra bit of confidence that would let him do it behind the school, to risk it for the sake of having more. But megumi’s already had to live with the regret of not telling Yuuji once before. I think he’s the one most likely to let it all out in the heat of the moment and pick up the pieces after.

#sea glass gardens #nobara kugisaki #worlds most homophobic lesbian #homosexuality is happening to people who do NOT deserve it

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69misato69 · 1 year

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OKAYOKAYOKAY SO... hear me out. i will spill more zc🍁

//nsfw?

listen listen listen zc with both as switches, just completely fighting over dominance in the bedroom. pulling eachothers hair, pinning the other to wherever but then again being so sweet. i will elaborate

childe who'd be so sweet to zl, praising him, treating him so well

i think this connects well to the dynamic of zl liking being spoiled because he didn't expect to be treated like that

so childe handles him with utmost care, getting him to submit that way

zhongli on the other hand, who knows he can easily win childe over by viciously grabbing his hair, throat, by being rough with him, because childe eats that up so well he'd be loving every second of it. zhongli who knows childe thrills of of his roughness and he'd be playing along easily.

send tweet

// nsfw below

YES !!! its like a silly little dance where one takes the lead and the other plays along for some time. mostly childe as the latter, he lets zhongli lay him down and play with him, only to flip him on his back a few minutes later. zhongli falls for it every time (partly because he likes falling for it and watching childe's reactions)

i assume there would also be times where childe gets too caught up in his own act, being touched all over by zhongli is too sweet to give up so he surrenders (lives to fight another day, if you will)

sometimes it is a bit more complicated as you described, i definitely agree. childe pampers zhongli for so long, teasing him until he's shaking and no longer has the resolve to fight for dominance. though he enjoys pain for himself, gentleness really works wonders for zhongli so his moves are so soft and sensual, purposefully underwhelming at times so that zhongli begs him for more.

though sometimes it doesn't work out because zhongli is just that committed to having him and having it his way. though he is kind and easy-going and tries to adapt to the changes in his life, childe is the only person that gets to see the more stubborn and territorial side.

at the end of the day it is hard to override that rock-like nature of his, he is solid and unchanging with a body and mind that stood the test of time because of that.

still, not in the romantic aspects of their relationship in my opinion. he compromises and listens to childe, does his best to work out their differences. but when they're alone and he craves childe it does help a primal and feral part of him resurface. a bit blinded by lust at times, which is something he hasn't experienced in a long time.

he isn't a big fan of surprises usually but he finds beauty in how unpredictable childe is.

and i mean............childe is always up for a challenge and he never backs down from a fight so...................

#zhongchi #tartali #ramblings #fandom asks

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levmada · 2 years

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Can we please have more of fem!levi? (smut and fluff headcanons)

yes. male coded reader

//mentions of sexism

– I'm not saying you can't do this with regular Levi... but it's so easy to manhandle fem!Levi, and even if she makes a sour face and pretends she doesn't like it, it flusters her too: scooping her up in your arms when she's all marked up and sleepy after several rounds in bed... the way your fingertips sink into her thighs when you heft her up onto the counter to reach the high shelves. She's so flexible it's easy to bend and spread her into all sorts of positions... and give her piggy back rides if you beg.

– fem!Levi isn't that feminine presenting. She sometimes puts on a little bit of makeup when you're going out somewhere... but her complexion is so pale and her lashes so thick to her it renders eyeliner/mascara and blush unnecessary. If you want to talk about natural beauty, fem!Levi is IT.

Sometimes she wears a simple white summer dress that's all wavy around her lower thighs, maybe a cute ruffled blouse, but most of her closet is practical and in simple muted colors. The most she'll dress up is for you. Garters, kneesocks, pretty lingerie that makes her perky nipples just visible through one of those soft seamless bras... giving you a generous peek at her soft breasts. Her favorite lingerie is silky and white.

– Because it's... Levi, and as a woman, she sometimes gets told to smile more often by crusty old men. Because it would be tiresome to get an assault charge, she either spits out something sarcastic and rude or puts on one of those uncanny creepy smiles. Whenever she tries to make herself smile a little in pictures it turns out creepy (in her opinion... and yours too) anyway, and this method always scares the shit out those men, so it works nicely.

– Her hair isn't styled as an undercut, but it's still short, chopped and neat. She doesn't really care to do anything with it, but if you want to braid it or something, she melts back against you as you touch her hair. One of her favorite things is her hair being played with.

Same thing if you want to paint her nails or give her a cute facial. I just picture her keeping totally still as you grasp her hand and drag the tiny brush around as the stinging scent reminiscent of alcohol rises up from the nail polish bottle. She has short nails, and pretty, dainty hands. Small wrists too... but everything about her is small.

– She will never admit how much she likes being the little spoon. Her chest gets all warm with you cuddled up behind her. But laying on top of her is nice too. Her fingers rub your scalp while you rest your head on her soft breast.

She doesn't sleep well most times, but she's capable of falling asleep right on top of you with her face tucked under your chin when she's comfy around you and particularly exhausted.

– Any version of Levi is sensitive to touch and affection... as well as a bit of a brat. Fem!Levi gets so wet just from playing with her nipples. Flicking your tongue and god suckling gets her pressing her foot down on your lower back as a demand to get between her legs.

She's not hairless, but fem!Levi does like to keep up a feeling of neatness by shaving under her arms and her legs. Between her thighs she has a small bush (which is more healthy than being hairless anyway). Her clit peaks out of her soft folds, and as soon as you press a finger inside her, her pussy clamps down and you hear a tiny sigh. One finger curling inside her while you suck on her clit is enough to make her come. Especially if your nails are digging into her thighs to pin them open.

It's embarrassing for her to be loud, but any version of Levi again means she can't help it. Soft sighs and raspy gasps turn into sweet moans and hitched commands of faster, harder, I'm closeI'mclose shit that's so—

When being female is added to Levi's crazy stamina, you can make her come shaking and gasping so many times before she's too tired/sensitive to go another round. Which culminates in hours of sex if you have the time. Her favorite is laying underneath you pressed down by your full weight on top of her while you move deep and slow inside of her, almost lazily. Where you're not having sex to climax as much as to enjoy the intimacy of it.

– Levi is small. Fem!Levi is small. If she's smaller than you, even though she has never bought things oversized for herself on purpose, she would for you. It doesn't matter if you even mention it; she'd buy a big sweatshirt/sweater or three and conveniently plop it in your lap when you're cold. She likes to see you wearing her clothes.

– If you thought Levi was malewife material, just like the expectation for her to smile, she would be popular among her co-workers/friends because she's wife material. Levi doesn't give a shit about gender/relationship norms, let alone fitting into them: cleaning is simply her favorite thing (and she is very picky about doing it well), she likes to sew after a childhood without many clothes, and same with cooking. You support each other's hobbies. It's perfect.

It's the other people that bother her (mostly because the flirting and jokes bother you whenever you hear about them), even though she easily brushes them off. It's pretty sexist also.

Kuchel owned a lot of jewelry before she passed away when Levi was young, which she inherited. Levi starts to wear a simple silver band around on her left ring finger to work so people will leave her alone—the whole thing makes Levi not want to trouble you with it, but when you hear from a mutual friend that you and Levi apparently got married, you go ahead and surprise her with a real promise ring :')

| levi masterlist | main masterlist |

#levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman x you #levi x mc #levi x you #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x y/n smut #levi x gender neutral reader #aot fluff #levi imagine #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman drabble #fem levi

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