#I just want him to stop suggesting shit he should know isn’t possible | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

grimm-writings · 1 month

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pathetic

…ft! dan heng, topaz, argenti, seele x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, pining, reader is oblivious as HELL!!!, seele’s slightly suggestive

…wc! 210 ; 319 ; 258 ; 305 = 1092

…notes! pathetic crushing… i cannot and will not ever stop vouching for pathetic pining in this house !!!!!!!

Dan Heng is painfully aware of how he looks right now. If it wasn’t March giving him the biggest shit-eating grin, it was Himeko trying hard to look polite as she hides her giggles, or even Mr Yang pretending he isn’t paying attention.

You. You really haven’t the slightest clue what you’re doing to him.

Every time you visit him in the Express’s archives, Dan Heng would light up. He wouldn’t do that for any such person usually. His excuse is that you bring him snacks. You would never complain, saying that you’d take this Dan Heng over the one with a poker face and sarcastic bites, even if he is just as cute.

How can you say that so casually?

One particular visit, he couldn’t take your sweet words any longer. His hand envelops yours before you could turn away from him. The way you look back at Dan Heng makes his heart swell in ways he couldn’t comprehend.

He couldn’t get the words out.

His grip loosens and he lets you go, albeit with confusion on your face.

The door closes with a quiet goodbye, and Dan Heng throws his head back in frustration, staring at the decorated ceiling above him.

How can he go on like this...?

Topaz is not the kind of person to sit idly by waiting for something to happen. She knows what she wants, and what she wants takes the shape of you.

You’re just so adorable! Really, the way you act so clueless whenever you flirt with her is just so endearing! How could she not melt?

…Well, it used to be easy. Flirting, complimenting you, relishing in how you react; she even asked you out to dinner, and took you to the nicest place possible! …But you’re still so shocked every time. You still didn’t pick up on any of her advances.

For once, Topaz is at a complete loss. What is she to do? Grab you by the shoulders and shake you around telling you that she’s completely enamoured with everything about you, and though that includes your cluelessness, she can’t take much of it anymore?

She could nearly keel over. Complete overkill. She needs to be smart about this; clear, but also suave and mature. Yeah, she can do this!

That’s how you find Numby making their way up to you, and there they drop a card in front of your feet. They curiously look up at you as you read, although you could sense another pair of eyes watching you closely.

‘You’re cute! Go out with me! Love, Topaz!’

Topaz could nearly explode from joy watching your face heat up. Finally. Finally! You get it now, don’t you?!

Her heart steps as you throw the card away and lean down and pet Numby. “Oh, Numby. Someone must have put you up to this for a prank, huh? You should find your way back to Topaz!”

Said companion of the Warp Trotter has already fallen to her knees with her face in her hands. You’re more work than she bargained for… but she’ll be struck down by an Aeon before she gives up on you! Just watch her!

Argenti doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Truly, he’s making all the right moves. He’s following examples from stories and myths, step by step. It’s not his fault that they always end up going wrong somehow. Maybe it’s just harsh luck…

He’s on one knee, taking your hand in his own. Like you are royalty, he kisses the back of it, and looks up at you.

“Thank you for saving me!” You beam, and Argenti’s brain freezes.

That’s how it all goes wrong, every single time.

He’s hopeless, how the knight of beauty stands up, turns around, and immediately feels his knees buckle and he’s down on the ground again. Maybe he’ll stay like this for a few minutes when he finishes crying.

He feels you kneel at his side, and prod against his armour. “Argenti…?” your sweet, sweet voice calls out to him quietly.

“Worry not. I am simply fighting the dirt in your honour. Keeping the worms off of you.”

You pause. He wouldn’t dislike being buried here like this. Then he hears your confused laughter. “Alright then! Thank you very much, sir knight!”

You pet his hair and stand up again, making your way back to a safe zone.

Yes, Argenti thinks, I will stay here and fend off the insects for you, my dear. And that is the only reason why I can’t move…

He certainly refuses to believe it’s your patience and kindness. How silly would it be for a knight of beauty to become so immobilised by it! How silly indeed…

Seele encourages you to stand up again. A simple sparring doesn’t do too much harm every now and again. She isn’t Luka; she won’t beg you for a match, but practice is good, and practice is better if it’s with a friend.

Haha. Keep telling yourself that, Seele.

Is it obvious yet she really wants you to just defeat her already? She knows you have it in you. Yeah, you’re more on the air-headed side, but you’re a reliable teammate! Maybe it’s the fact you refuse to actually hurt her…

You apologise again when you’re back on your feet. She doesn’t want any apologies, dang you! Can’t you see she’s just desperate to get you to at least brush your knuckles against hers as her scythe comes in conflict with your blade?!

…So that does it. In her mental ramblings, you manage to get her on the ground beneath you. Your thighs cage her under you as you push her down. Aeons, your smile is so wide.

“I got you!” you exclaim.

Seele can’t help the small laugh that escapes her. She hopes that her face is only red to you because of your fighting. You’re so close to her face. You could just kiss her right now…

“Yep, you really did!” is what comes out, shakier than she would have liked. How did you get her so weak? You’re not even making a big deal over straddling her like this…

You shimmy off her eventually, offering your hand out. “Time for lunch?”

Seele doesn’t move for a few seconds, before letting you pick her up. If not a kiss, she can at least get some quality time. The way you smile at her is enough for her.

…How you pushed her down will definitely haunt her dreams for the next week or so, though.

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harmonictechnicality · 11 months

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*my humble offering to @steddie-week (and the s4 anniversary!) | ao3 link here*

Like most bad ideas, it starts with a question. Eddie is sitting on the ground, messing with the laces on his sneakers. Tying, untying. Mindless shit.

Steve is taking up the whole damn park bench, practically laying on it. Hasn’t said a word in the last ten minutes.

And Eddie sort of hates the silence. Would like Silence to get decapitated with a chainsaw or something equally gruesome. Needs that particular volume to die the loudest death possible. For the sake of irony, of course.

So Eddie kills it - the silence, that is. The lull taking up all this air between him and Steve Harrington.

He kills it with a question:

“What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done?”

Steve’s head snaps in Eddie’s direction. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“Fuck, I don’t know, man.” Steve sort of twitches, right between his eyebrows. Shoulders going lopsided, unnaturally angled. Uncomfortable.

Eddie shouldn’t be feeding off this tension so much. Judging by Steve’s body language though, the answer must be a good one.

He leans forward, almost singing the words. “You sure about that?”

Pushing is fun, darkly playful. Eddie enjoys getting under people’s skin, crawling around till they shrivel up. Is it wrong? Morally unethical? Well… the verdict is still out on that.

Besides, he’s been around Harrington enough lately to know that it doesn’t take much to make him surrender.

“Fine.” Steve huffs. He lifts himself to a sitting position, knees bobbing up and down. It takes all of Eddie’s leftover energy to not gloat about how easy that was - how quickly Steve caved. Teasing can (will) come later - right now, he wants answers.

Secrets.

“So, Robin and I went to this party in the city… got pretty shitfaced.”

Eddie throws his head back. “Lame.”

“Story’s not over.”

Oh? Interesting. Eddie places his hand over his heart, then waves it back at Steve. “My sincere apologies. Continue.”

Steve rolls his eyes, clears his throat (not that he needed to but whatever). “Anyways, she somehow convinced me to go to this tattoo parlor with her. Said her friend worked there and she wanted to visit them, so-”

“Wait wait wait. Don’t tell me this story ends with you getting a butterfly tattoo on your lower back.”

“Will you stop interrupting?”

There’s this serious expression in Steve’s eyes. A combination of dark colors and pure annoyance. Eddie is sane enough to know that annoyance isn’t something he should find endearing, but he does. On Steve.

Just a little.

He shrugs, and Steve continues. “Well, it turns out her friend wasn’t working that night. But the piercing lady was working and was like… superpersuasive.”

“Look, Munson, I don’t remember many details after that. Like I said, totally shitfaced. I just know when Robin and I woke up the next morning, we were so fucking sore. And not like, hangover sore either. We were sore in the same exact place. Right here.”

Steve’s pointer finger is gesturing at his stomach. Right in the center.

No. Absolutely not. Either Steve had severe stomach pains that night, or he’s suggesting that…

No.

“Yeah. There you have it.” Steve says. Blankly nodding into space. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done is get a matching belly button piercing with my best friend. Jesus christ, that’s freaky to say out loud.”

The Silence sneaks up on him. Stabs Eddie in the back when he isn’t looking because he’s too busy trying to imagine Steve Harrington with a piercing of any kind. Let alone the most famously slutty kind.

Wrong, so very wrong. He should never let the words slutty and piercing clutter up his imagination while thinking about Steve. The silence has been too long now. Gotta say something, anything.

“Bullshit.” His tone is harsh. Doesn’t mean for it to be. “There’s no fucking way.”

Steve pouts, crinkles his forehead. “I swear on my car - I’m not making this up.”

And see, here’s where the bad idea comes in. This stormcloud of pouting and piercings and chest hair, it’s all becoming dangerous. That urge to provoke is in Eddie’s bloodstream. He has to tip the scale, twist the knife of chaos as far as he can. Self control is out the fucking window.

“Prove it then.”

“Fuck off, Munson.” Steve laughs, maybe scoffs. Either reaction is a little confusing. “Seriously, this isn’t truth or dare.”

The truth is already out though. It’s the dare that Eddie is hungry for. “You can’t just drop a nuclear statement like that and expect me not to ask to see it.”

“Technically, you didn’t ask.”

Eddie clamors over to Steve, all theatrics and fake agony. “Please, Lord Harrington.” He clasps both hands together, rests his cheek on Steve’s knee. Batting his eyelashes till Steve cracks a smile. “Let me see the metal that has punctured thy skin. I beg of thee.”

Steve shoves him off. “You’re such a dork.” It’s lighthearted, barely qualifies as shoving. He’s become way too decent for actual aggression these days.

A fact Eddie tirelessly clings to when Steve stands up. Lifts the bottom of his shirt and puts it in his fucking mouth.

“Holy shit.” Eddie mutters. No time to consider how pathetic it comes across.

In theory, this should all be stupidly unattractive. The way Steve holds his shirt between his teeth. The way he mumbles incoherent shit between the fabric in his mouth. The way he keeps pointing at it, poking it.

That shiny, teardrop-shaped metal. Just… hanging from Steve’s belly button, swinging slightly with every small movement. Eddie’s eyes start to swing with it, back and forth. Back and forth. Maybe those roadside hypnotists are onto something, because the dumbest piece of jewelry has Eddie captivated.

He could just be captivated by the guy attached to the dumbest piece of jewelry. Piercing.

Jesus Christ. Eddie really didn’t think his life could get any weirder. But here he is. Staring at Steve Harrington’s belly button piercing. Fucking mouth-breathing at the sight of it. Probably seconds away from salivating.

He really should consider seeing a licensed psychologist. Fix his terminally horned-up brain once and for all.

“It’s…” Eddie swallows, his eyelids feel heavier than his stare. “Not what I expected.”

The fabric drops from Steve’s mouth. Unevenly falls around his waist... hips. “What were you expecting?”

To laugh. To mock. Threaten blackmail for six lifetimes, maybe more.

Instead, Eddie gazing at it the way people gaze through telescopes. He peers lower, tries to see if it’s silver or gold. Hard to tell at sunset. None of Eddie’s typical instincts are sinking in. All he wants is to feel the metal rolling over his tongue or get it trapped between his teeth. See how it tastes mixed up with Steve’s skin.

“Fuck.” Yikes. Eddie didn’t mean to say that out loud. Straightens up from his questionable position, does it so fast that his spine sounds like bubble wrap. “Sorry, sorry.”

What the hell is he apologizing for? Cussing? Having a skeletal structure? Christ almighty, he’s a mess.

Steve’s lips spread into a grin, doesn’t look like his own. Looks more like the kind Eddie might give after pulling off a successful decoy in one of his campaigns. “What’s wrong with your face, man?”

“My face?”

“It’s all…” Steve trails off. Sighs and sits back down on the bench. “Nevermind.”

Eddie reaches up to his cheek, understands exactly what Steve is referring to. He feels feverish to the touch, must be a shade of red that is so deep, it’s noticeable in the darkening sky.

“Sorry… sorry.” Steve hangs his head. Seems troubled even though Eddie is nailing that particular routine all on his own.

“Think that’s my line.” Eddie jokes.

“Right.”

Silence is lurking around them yet again. Eddie hates it, but he’s running out of steam here. The embarrassment is on display, his cheeks and neck covered in splotchy red patches. His voice is higher, somehow, as if his vocal chords are shrinking. He’s undergoing a crisis and crush simultaneously and it is not an attractive look for him.

“Just go ahead and get it over with.” Steve says. Interrupts whatever cynicism that’s currently brewing in Eddie's head.

“Get what over with?”

“The teasing.”

“Oh that’s not… it’s um… you don’t…” Eddie can’t pick an appropriate response. They’re way beyond politeness and niceties. And any bullshit he tries to pull isn't gonna be convincing. So it’s best to stay honest. Embarrassing, but honest. “I think it looks pretty good.”

“You do?” Steve looks softer.

“Yeah. I mean… Bowie probably has one, and he’s a fucking superstar so. Uh. Yeah.”

“Bowie, huh?”

“I like Bowie.” I like Bowie? What a beefhead answer. Eddie joins Steve on the bench, hopes it distracts from that very un-cool line.

“I like Bowie too.” Steve messes with his hair a bit. Elbows Eddie in the side and chuckles. “You should get one.”

“A piercing?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t hold your breath, man. I’m not letting that nightmare creator you described anywhere near my lower abdomen. Not gonna happen.”

Steve reaches out, runs his knuckles down the bridge of Eddie’s nose. Stops at the crease of his nostril. “What about one right here?” His voice is even, calm. Too calm for what he’s asking.

His hand is warm, slightly calloused. The only two thoughts Eddie can process without going fully catatonic. Steve’s hand is on his face and it’s warm.

Slightly calloused.

“Uh. Dunno.” Eddie says. A hoarse whisper in reply. “Probably not.”

Steve scoots in closer, never taking his hand off Eddie’s face. Just moving it around. Exploring. He brushes along to Eddie’s ear this time. Holds the edge of it between his thumb and index finger, looking straight at it.

“What about right here?” Steve’s eyes stay fixed on Eddie’s ear. Every touch seems natural, just questions that involve connection or something.

Internally, Eddie is dousing flames. Fanning them left and right. Running in circles, fucking clueless on how to properly calm down. Be civil. Be Dude Civil. His breathing is so rapid, he knows it. Can hear it between them, collecting space. Decides it would be best to mimic Steve. Fix his eyes only on him, borrow the stability as much as possible.

“Mmm… maybe.” Eddie gets stuck on the ‘mmm’ sound. That’s how good it feels having someone touch him like this. Careful, yet heavy in curiosity. Rolling the tip of his earlobe between two fingers, just enough pressure to create heat.

It warrants that sound.

Steve’s glance drifts before his fingers do. Eyes landing on Eddie’s lips, slight hesitancy before his hand follows. Eddie has to hold his breath now. Minimal oxygen is the only way he’ll survive this moment, which makes no fucking sense, but it does all the same.

“Here would look really good.” Steve slowly traces the curve of Eddie’s bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. The back and forth pattern is disarming. Makes Eddie’s lips part, mouth slightly open.

Just enough to speak. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

If Eddie passes out from lack of oxygen, he’ll regret it. He’ll regret not taking the risk, finishing what Steve has started. Because this surpasses friendly touching.

This is charged in electric shockwaves.

Eddie dips in, kisses Steve before he can move his hand out of the way. Steve makes a sound, not even a surprised one. It’s sweeter, laced in relief. Eddie pushes in, wants more, whatever he can get. Has his fingers wrapped around Steve’s wrist, the same hand that’s dragging down his face, his neck. Stopping at his chest.

Every rumor is true, that kissing Steve Harrington is like the gates of heaven opening up. That his tongue could work miracles on amateur lips with a few licks and curls. But no one ever told him about the noises he makes - and those are the best fucking part. Heaving breaths, pleased whines, each one captured with Eddie’s mouth before they get any louder.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe those are just for Eddie. Reserved for kissing him.

Goddamn, he’s delusional. Completely delirious from kissing a dude with a belly button piercing.

There’s a light getting brighter, almost approaching them. Eddie opens his eyes, quickly backs off while Steve does the same. Has to literally detachhimself from wherever his hand was busy wandering all over Steve’s body.

Headlights pull into the nearby parking lot. Eddie squints to get a better look at the car. It’s Robin and Vickie, showing up fashionably late as always. Sure, he’s grateful that it’s just them, the queerest people in his circle of weirdos. And while they’re reasonable people with shit like this, even they’dbe shocked to know that Eddie and Steve just sucked face for a solid three minutes. Probably best to not mention the gory details, not tonight. Eddie hopes Steve is thinking the same thing.

Both of them stand up, rearrange themselves to look presentable. Less tousled and kiss-bitten. Steve spends a few extra seconds with his hair before turning to Eddie, eyebrows high. Likely a non-verbal ask if his hair is looking as godly as ever.

Of course it does. Looks even better knowing Eddie’s nails were just digging into it.

Steve is a few steps ahead of Eddie, heading for the girls, when Eddie does it again. Kills the silence with a question.

“Can we… do this again?” It’s edging on desperate, he’s so fucking aware of that. Self control really proving to be a major downfall with him tonight. Should definitely consider taking classes, train his willpower or some shit.

Steve stops walking. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t even look at Eddie as he speaks. “My place.”

Oh. That’s… wow. Unexpected. Eddie jogs up to Steve, beside him. Way too eager now, sort of buzzing for more information. Hints of excitement or maybe a smile. Anything, really. He’s at that level of weak for this guy.

Steve just keeps walking, but leans in, right next to Eddie’s ear. The same one he messed with earlier. His voice is quiet, but Eddie hears every damn syllable:

“I’ll leave the window unlatched for you.”

For him.

Maybe Eddie isn’t completely delusional after all.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddieweek2023 #day six: true #truly truly dumb and fun #major himbo and major himbo-enjoyer #was this an excuse to cause chaotic piercing headcanons? always.#okayokay I hope you like Eddie drooling over Steve on this fine Saturday afternoon xx #*bows and scurries back off into my writing corner*

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headkiss · 10 months

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could I request joel and shy!reader, the first time that they share a bed/spend the night together? she learns that even though he is a grumpy old fart he is also a huge cuddler? I love your writing for joel!!

grumpy old fart made me giggle! here u go lovely!!! | 0.8k fluff

It feels like you’ve been walking for days, the heel of your beat-up shoes rubbing uncomfortably against your skin, your backpack feeling heavier and heavier on your shoulders.

Somehow, Joel looks unfazed. Of course, he’s got dirt all over and you’re sure he is tired, but he doesn’t look it. He’d probably keep walking until he physically couldn't anymore.

You don’t complain, because everyone’s tired and sore, and the last thing you’d want to do is cause trouble or annoyance.

Still, when you spot a motel in the distance, the relief washes over you.

There’s only one room left in the place that’s sleepable now, the rest of them blocked off or broken down from debris and years of being empty. Well, it’s technically two rooms; a door in between to conjoin them, and Ellie quickly claims one of them as her own for the night.

She shuts the conjoining door behind her, probably to have the privacy to clean up as much as possible with whatever’s in her bag.

You and Joel stand in silence for a bit, the one bed in the room sticking out a little too obviously.

“I can take the floor,” you offer.

“No, you take the bed.”

Joel’s stubborn, and cold, and often grumpy, but it doesn’t stop you from liking him. He’s risking his life to save the girl in the next room, and no matter how aloof he acts, the way he looks out for you says enough.

He’s a good man, even if he doesn’t believe it himself.

“What about your back?” You know it’s been bothering him, “you need it more than I do.”

“We’ll just share, alright?”

Joel suggests it before he really thinks it through, because he might have a hard time sleeping next to you. It’s to no fault of your own, really, he just doesn’t know how much longer he can keep you at arm’s length when he has this stupid fucking urge to hold you and protect you with all he has.

He’s not sure how someone like you wound up with someone like him, but he wouldn’t dream of complaining.

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” you say.

You like Joel more than you should and the thought of sleeping next to him has your nerves flaring. You’ve never slept next to him before, even when the body heat would’ve been helpful.

You’re quiet throughout dinner (a can of long expired Chef Boyardee split between three), busy thinking, trying to get your shit together because you shouldn’t be nervous. It’s just a bed. It’s Joel.

Happy with her meal, Ellie goes back to her room to read one of the new comic books you’d found a bit ago, leaving with a, “goodnight, dudes.”

Then, it’s just you and Joel again.

He cleans up the food as you pull back the blankets on the bed to assess the sheets. You decide on grabbing your sleeping bags and unzipping them to use as blankets instead.

“The ones on the bed are pretty gross,” you say when Joel peeks over at you, like you needed to explain yourself.

Joel knows you well by now, knows your tells and quirks, and he can see that you’re nervous, off, hands smoothing out the sleeping bags shakily.

“I can take the floor if you’re uncomfortable,” he says, walking over to you.

“No!” You answer quickly, “it’s not that. I’ve just- um, never shared a bed with anyone before.”

“You don’t have to do anything different. Just gotta sleep, okay?”

Right, just sleep, this isn’t special. You’ve gotta get a grip.

“Yeah, okay.”

“If you’d rather we can put the pillows in the middle.”

There he goes again, caring for you in small, simple ways that speak volumes.

“No, that’s alright.”

“Best get some sleep, then.”

You nod, and Joel walks around to the other side of the bed. You both climb in, laying on your backs for a bit. You can't seem to sleep, and he seems to notice.

“You good?”

“Huh?” You turn your head to look at him, cheek against the pillow, “yeah, fine.”

Joel lays on his side to face you, a distance clearly left between your bodies, “try to sleep, will you? You need it.”

“So do you.”

You’re on your side now, too, head level with his.

“I know.”

Your hand lays by your face on your pillow, and Joel’s hand inches towards it, his pinkie brushing against yours. You reach yours back, and then, your fingers are locked.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

“Night.”

You don’t know it but he falls asleep long after you, and by the time you wake, you’ve migrated, shifted positions. There’s a heavy weight over your waist, and only when you peek under the blanket do you realize that it’s Joel’s arm.

Then, you realize your head isn’t on the pillow anymore, but on his chest, the steady thump of his heart beneath your ear.

Rather than shift and wake him, you close your eyes and get a couple more hours of sleep, smiling at the discovery that Joel Miller is a cuddler.

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unkreativstermensch · 4 months

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The porch lights are all turned off, so the glowing from the pool is the only thing illuminating the back yard, and it looks a little eery with the steaming water and the dark forest surrounding them. A little magical too. Like mystic healing waters in a hidden cave. He could see a mermaid surfacing, taking him with her on a new quest.

Huh. Maybe that would be a nice plot point for the next campaign.

Steve is sitting on the steps that connect the terrace to the pool area of the backyard, his back turned to Eddie. He’s smoking, judging from the low glow of a cigarette in the dark. Eddie hasn’t seen Steve smoke since like…his first senior year.

His back looks tense and if he heard Eddie opening the door and stepping outside, he doesn’t show it. Just keeps staring into the distance, hardly moving, only lifting his hand to his lips and taking a shaky drag of the cigarette. He seems anxious and fidgety and it sort of breaks Eddie’s heart.

He sits down next to him. Doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at him, just joins him there and stares into the distance too. Steve finishes his cigarette and stubs it out on the floor next to him.

“You have really bad memories here.” Eddie states it more than he says it. “Upside Down unrelated.” He turns to look at him. “Right?”

Steve lifts his head a tiny fraction, his jaw tense. He looks over at Eddie. Breathes. Looks away again, breathes some more, eyes glued to the floor. Eddie can see tears forming in his eyes. He can also see Steve desperately trying to hide them, force them back.

It doesn’t work.

Then, giving up, Steve just nods.

“Yeah,” he says.

Eddie just watches him for a couple seconds, then redirects his gaze to the pool and shrugs. “I don’t think we should hang out here then.”

Steve immediately scoffs. “Try telling that to the kids.”

“Maybe you really should,” Eddie says after a pause. Steve’s expression turns a little confused.

“What do you mean?” he asks. “I tried. Were you not there?”

“No, I was,” Eddie confirms. “Which is how I know that you’re not really the best at standing up for yourself.”

Now Steve actually looks a little offended.

Eddie sighs. “Just…Look, I know you can’t say no to the little shrimps, but they love you. And if they knew how serious you are about not wanting to hang out here, I’m sure they’d stop pestering you about it.”

“What…what do you expect me to tell them, Eddie?”

Eddie shrugs. “How bout the truth?”

Steve looks at him like he just suggested to paint the moon in a dark shade of pink. “The truth?” he repeats and scoffs again, a little disbelieving this time. “Sure,” he then says, sarcasm dripping from his words. “Sure. Next time, I’ll just tell them the truth. I’ll just tell them, in as much detail as possible, about how my father beat me black and blue in every single fucking room of this house and had me scrub my own blood from the banister after he shoved me a little too hard, so, excuse me, if don’t want to spend more time than absolutely necessary here." His voice breaks. "But I just haven’t saved up enough money to move out because, guess what? Having rich parents isn’t all that great when they don’t give a shit about you.”

He tried to make it a big sarcastic speech, but he’s crying by the end of it and Eddie just pulls him against his side, holding him tight. Steve sobs into his chest, curling his arms around Eddie’s back, holding onto him and Eddie’s heart breaks more for him. The boy in his arms is so, so broken, and he’s way too good at hiding it.

“Well, maybe not in those words,” he whispers into Steve’s hair and tries to blink his own tears away, that come at the thought of Steve, soft, sweet, loving and caring Steve, being hurt and hurt and hurt again, by his own parents. And nobody being there to stop it, unlike his mother and Wayne were for Eddie.

Steve clings to Eddie and Eddie just presses him closer, won’t let him go until Steve decides to pull away, softly stroking his back, trying his best to give him comfort.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Steve,” he whispers and when Steve actually detaches his head from Eddie’s chest, pulls away a little and looks at him, Eddie can’t help but gently cup his face in his right hand and wipe one of the remaining tears away.

“S’not your fault,” Steve whispers and Eddie softly shakes his head.

“No, I know,” he says. “But it’s not your fault either.”

Steve takes a deep breath, dodges Eddie’s eyes again.

“I really think you should try talking to them again,” he then tries. Steve immediately turns defensive. “Eddie-”

“No, I just- I mean this is important, you can’t-”

“Eddie, I can’t-”

“You can’t let them just-”

“Don’t make me-”

“You can’t rely on Robin to fend for you all the time, I-”

“Yes, I can, she would-”

“Steve!”

“No, Eddie, what?” Steve looks at him, desperate. “I can’t do it, what do you- what do you want from me?”

He looks so devastated. Eddie pulls him a little closer with the hand still on his cheek. He looks at him. Bites his lip. “I want you to be alright.”

That seems to shut Steve up.

“I care about you, Steve. I care so much.” His left hand slowly reaches for Steve’s hand, grabs it, squeezes it tentatively. “Maybe...even a little too much.”

It’s as far into a confession as he’s gonna go, but Steve understands. Eddie knows. His eyes open and honest.

They’re just staring at each other. Steve squeezes back.

God, they’re so close.

“Do you wanna know one of the reasons?” Steve asks, eyes glassy, voice exhausted. Why is he even prettier, when he cries? It’s unfair to the world but even more unfair to Steve. It shouldn’t look good to be in pain.

“Reasons?” Eddie frowns.

“Why my dad…” Steve shrugs. “Well…why he…did it.”

When Eddie catches onto the words, he softly shakes his head. “Those weren’t reasons, Steve”, he says, his left thumb gently wiping the last remaining tear off of Steve’s cheek. “Those were excuses.”

Steve leans even more into Eddie’s touch and closes his eyes. He sighs. “Either way.”

Eddie waits until Steve opens his eyes again, looking at him expectantly.

“Why?”

Steve smiles, but it’s still sad. Eddie can see him swallow.

“Because of this,” Steve whispers, his left hand curling around Eddie’s. “Because I like kissing boys.”

For whatever reason, Eddie isn’t surprised. Not that Steve ‘likes kissing boys’ at least. He is surprised, however, at how similar he phrased it. For a second Eddie’s thrown back, to more than five years ago, when he, with tears on his face and an ice pack pressed against his busted lip, confessed to Wayne that maybe the rumors about him weren’t that wrong after all. That it wasn’t true when they called him gay or a fag, not fully at least, because he liked girls, he kissed one just last week and he enjoyed it, he did, he swore.

“But I just sort of…like kissing boys too.”

“Ed, my boy,” Wayne told him back then and pulled him into an awkward but warm hug. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.”

“Steve,” Eddie breathes and takes Steve’s face in both of his hands to make him look at him. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Steve’s eyes are still glazed and he’s still so pretty it hurts and he slowly bites down on his lip, which- unfair, if you ask Eddie. So unfair.

“Are you sure?” Steve asks and it seems almost as if he’s not asking about the kissing thing anymore. Well, yes, but in a different context. His gaze falls down onto Eddie’s lips and Eddie has to take a sharp breath.

“Oh, I’ve never been more sure of anything,” Eddie replies, his voice barely above a whisper and Steve’s lips pull into a hesitant, soft smile before he shifts a little closer.

“So you…you won’t mind, if I-”

He’s cut off by Eddie kissing him. Steve melts into it, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair and pull him closer, the other fisting the fabric of Eddie's shirt. Eddie kisses Steve deeper, softly hums into it and he can feel Steve letting himself go.

Steve feels safe with him, Eddie realizes.

It almost makes him wanna cry.

When they break apart, they just stare at each other for a second. Still close, Eddie’s hands still cupping Steve's face, Steve’s still in Eddie’s curls and shirt.

“This,” Steve says, a little breathless, which- what? Eddie caused that? “This is certainly a good memory."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robins out of town btw #so she's not there to argue for steve #and this is the first time they all hung out at steves #and only eddie realizes the discomfort on steves face

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callsigndragon · 1 year

Text

Imagine this (Rooster short imagine)

You’ve been fake dating Rooster for the past months. Your idiotic ex has been giving you shit for a while now, and Bradley, trying to help you, suggests it. It’s been going well so far, your ex hasn’t shown up in a few weeks, and it almost feels like they're not coming back anymore.

Things between you and him have... changed. There’s this flirty tone in the relationship that wasn’t there before. There’s something there, the elephant in the room, that none of you want to address. You just let it pass. It’s not real. You’re just confused.

One day, you walk out of your job, happy to have finished the day. You walk without paying attention to anyone else but your phone, but somehow you feel like someone is following. You peek over your shoulder, checking if someone is behind you. You see a figure, dressed in dark clothes, hoodie on, whose face is impossible to see. Could it be your ex?

A fear runs down your spine, and you take a turn, hoping that the figure doesn’t follow you. But they do, and you get more and more scared. Your mind yells at you to call for help, but instead of calling the cops, you call him. You call Rooster. He’s walking out of Top Gun, chatting with the others, when his phone rings.

“Hey, I just got out of work,” he says, smiling after seeing your name pop up on his screen.

“I think my ex is here.” You mumble, trying not to raise your voice so the person behind you doesn’t hear you calling for help.

“Where are you?” That’s the only thing he asks. He stops in his tracks, the rest of the team doing the exact same, watching Rooster’s worried expression.

You give him the address, and he tells you he’s going to be there as soon as possible. Rooster tells you not to hang up, keep talking to him until he gets to you.

“Roos, is everything okay?” Jake asks, placing a hand on Rooster’s shoulder.

“Someone is following y/n,” he responds, looking at his squad. “We need to go get them.”

Mickey offers his car, as it’s the fastest. “You stay on the line with them. I’ll drive.”

But luck isn’t on your side, and your phone dies after a few minutes. Reuben has to stop Bradley from throwing the phone out the window in desperation. Him, along with Jake, Mickey, and Javy, offered to go with Rooster and help them.

You, being near your home, decide that maybe making a run for it is a good idea. You run, feeling your lungs about to explode, but fearing that stopping would only lead to the creep behind you catching up with you.

It only takes you a few minutes to get to your home, and once you’re about to introduce the key in the keyhole, you hear the wheels of a wire screeching as it stops right in front of your house.

Feeling straight out of a movie, Rooster walks out the car and runs in your direction, hugging you with all his strength, checking that you’re okay, and asking over and over again if you’re hurt.

He takes the keys from your hand, and gives them to Javy. “Go check if there’s someone inside.”

The guys nod, and you feel bad for them, but before you can protest, Rooster is all over you again. “Oh my god, I was so scared. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m okay, Roos. I’m so sorry, I should have called the cops, you didn’t have to come all the way here…”

“What do you mean?” Rooster, never moving his hands from your shoulders, steps back so he can look you in the eye.

“This... is fake, and I know you had to play the part because you were in front of the guys. I’m sorry for that,” you mumble, feeling bad for worrying him.

“Wait, you think this is…” Rooster raises his hand from your body, like the contact with your skin burns him. “Fuck you.”

“What?”

“Fuck you for thinking this is fake. I’ve never been more scared in my life than these last five minutes, and you think this is fake?”

You blink, words unable to leave your mouth, stuck in the tip of your tongue. It’s not fake? Does he have the same feelings that torture you every single day? The feeling that leaves you sleepless at night and daydreaming all day? “It’s… not fake?”

“Of course it is not!” He sighs, wiping a hand down his face. “It stopped being fake a while ago.”

“I’m sorry, Roos… I-I thought–”

Javy and the other guys walk out, interrupting your conversation. “It’s empty. You can get in.”

Rooster nods, mumbling a quick goodbye before getting in the car with the rest and driving back to the base.

Dear god, you fucked up so bad.

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behindthewanderlust · 7 months

Text

Waterworks

Murdoc x gn!reader

Masterlist

Summary - Murdoc likes to think he’s a decent enough lover. Except for when you give him a problem he doesn't know how to solve.

Word Count - 904

Warnings - Hints of Murdoc’s alcoholism, Murdoc’s self doubt (he thinks he’s a bad partner), this isn’t beta read

A/N - Can take place in any phase! Also, constructive criticism is very much welcome! If I missed any warnings, please let me know

——————————————————————————

Murdoc likes to think he’s a decent enough lover.

Don’t get him wrong, he could do a better job and he knows you deserve someone better than him…but hey, you haven’t left him yet - that’s gotta mean something, right? He can make you laugh like no other and will buy you the flashiest shit on the planet if you asked. He knows how to do that well.

So it’s quite unfortunate that you’re now crying in his arms. He shifts uncomfortably, he doesn’t know what to do about this. He’s tense as you sob into his chest; his mind races, wondering what he should do or say. He gives you a few awkward pats on the back, something he remembers Noodle doing the last time he vomited after drinking too much. Drinking’s always been how he solved all his negative emotions. He almost suggests it, but stops himself, knowing he doesn’t want you to end up like him.

Murdoc thinks about getting Noodle, Russel, or the nitwit - someone, anyone who can comfort you better than he ever could. He thinks about a previous time you cried, Russel made you tea and offered you words of wisdom before watching a movie with you. Another time, 2D and Noodle brought you food to lift your spirits. Kind gestures don’t come easily to Murdoc, he mentally curses his bandmates for having sympathy. He tries to get up to grab someone, but you hold him so tight there’s no point in standing up. His shirt’s soaked, and you only seem to be crying harder. Murdoc’s powerless, a feeling he can’t stand. Negative thoughts gnaw at his insides with each sob you let out; he silently beats himself up for being such a useless boyfriend.

“Er - uh, do ya wanna talk about it?”

A sense of familiarity is felt when Murdoc finally spits a question out. He remembers Russel asking the same question after he first witnessed one of Murdoc’s drunken depressive episodes. You shake your head and whine out a quick no thank you. His memory’s a bit spotty, but Murdoc remembers his reaction being much more violent; a chair was possibly thrown in Russ’ direction.

He glances over at a clock that may or may not be set to the incorrect time. You’ve been crying for hours - at least, that’s what Murdoc thinks. Father Time would disagree and say you’ve been wailing for only seven minutes. He sighs, starting to feel a bit impatient. He’s got a raging headache from the stiff drinks he had last night. His plan was to keep this escapade from you, not wanting you to know he’s been drinking again, but he knows you’re not an idiot. You smelled the remnants of alcohol when you barged into his room, face wet with tears.

Murdoc then wonders if distraction would work. He’s already 0-2 when it comes to ideas, so why not go for a strikeout?

“Ha! I just remembered! I swiped Noodle’s last cig earlier,” he starts to boast, “and she gets all pissy ‘bout it, but guess who she’s blamin’? The half-brain 2D, who else? ‘Coulda told her I nabbed it, but why would I? Watching the two argue about a smoke was pure entertainment.”

Murdoc laughs again, before shifting you in his lap to sit more comfortably. “It wasn’t even a good smoke anyway.”

He begins to recall other events, like 2D’s voice cracking during a song, and Russel’s drumstick falling out of his hand. Murdoc, of course, claims to have played perfectly; not a single bum note coming from his bass.

“Ya should’ve been there, love,” he hums, his hand unconsciously rubbing your back much less awkwardly than the tense pats from earlier. You take a few sharp breaths. Murdoc notes how you’re slightly more calm than before. He took the moment to speak again.

“Now, why am I seeing waterworks? Spit it out, what’s got ya bawling like a baby?”

He doesn’t miss the amused huff you let out. You sniffle as you pull away from his embrace and wipe the tears. Your eyes are a bit dull, and your face is red and puffy. Murdoc still thinks you look nice. He stays quiet as you take a few more deep, shaky breaths to calm yourself. You speak, your voice cracking as you force the words out.

“I just had a rough day, that’s all. Thanks for holding me.”

Murdoc wipes a stray tear from your eye before looking down at his shirt. It’s cold and wet with your tears and snot. Your eyes follow his, and you cringe at the mess you left on his clothes. The room is silent, save for the murmur of the TV you didn’t even realize was on. You enjoy the moment; a calm that came after the storm instead of before. Your eyes dance across the room, not really paying attention to anything interesting before they land on your boyfriend, who is staring directly at you.

“Y’know, love,” he speaks, a grin forming on his face. “For a moment there, it felt like I was at Niagara Falls.” He laughs, the noise turning into a cackle as you groan and hit his shoulder. You roll your eyes before laughing too. The dullness of your eyes is now replaced with a slight sparkle. Murdoc couldn’t think of a prettier sight.

Maybe he wasn’t as bad of a boyfriend as he thought.

#gorillaz fanfiction #murdoc gorillaz #2d gorillaz #noodle gorillaz #russel gorillaz #murdoc niccals #gorillaz fanfic #murdoc x reader

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farfromstrange · 3 months

Text

Do No Harm

CHAPTER EIGHT: First-Date Jitters

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: It's time for your date with the beautiful stranger from the hospital, and you are beyond nervous. Still, you're already in too deep to pull out now, so, you jump into the cold water and learn how to swim.

Warnings for this chapter: Angst, comfort, some first-date cliché behavior, mentions of domestic violence (in thought), foreshadowing (?), flirting, physical contact, suggestive language (slightly), Matt's charisma uniqueness nerve and talent

Word Count: 5.3k

A/n: This flirty little shit won't leave my mind. Anyway, my plan was for this chapter to be one continuous chapter, but it got so long that I had to cut it into 2 parts (or this beast would have been 10k words). That’s why you’re getting a double update today. I tried not to put too much angst into this. It's still angsty, but there is a lot of comfort for the angst and the hurt to compensate for it, and I think that's beautiful. I don’t know about the writing though.

Read Chapter 8: First Date Jitters here on AO3

Many questions naturally come to mind when one is preparing for a date. How will you get there? Who will pay? What could you possibly talk about that has a high chance of boring neither of you? The question you find yourself grappling with the most though is, what the fuck are you supposed to wear?

After spending years trapped in a cage, your self-confidence took quite a hit. You used to feel somewhat satisfied with the way you looked, but John always had something to criticize. Your weight, your hair, your facial features—nothing was ever good enough for him. After breaking down your walls and making you believe that you were the best thing that ever happened to him, he knew how to manipulate you best. At least he looked at you. You were grasping at straws, holding onto the vision of a man who was never real, and you forgot your worth along the way.

“Wear that dress you borrowed from me and never gave back,” Claire says on the other end of the line.

You sigh. You have been staring at your closet for an hour now, and you haven’t come further than picking out what underwear to wear. With shaky fingers, you reach for the dress. You know exactly which one she meant.

“Are you sure I should wear a dress?” you ask. “I mean, it’s kinda cold outside.”

“That’s why they invented tights and over-knee socks. Oh, and maybe wear those heart-shaped earrings I got you for your birthday. They look good on you.”

You scan the dress with careful eyes. You’ve barely slept after getting home, and now your head is pounding. Earlier, you sent Matt a text, confirming the time and place for the umpteenth time, but as half-past two is inching closer on the clock, the unease is starting to creep deeper into your bones.

You promised Claire not to cancel, but that doesn’t take away the fear and the sheer agony you feel inside when you think about all the things that could go wrong. Alone the thought of facing Matt’s gorgeous smile in a different setting than the hospital sends a shiver down your spine, and it’s not fully pleasant.

But no. You swore you wouldn’t give John what he wants, and he surely would be punching the air if he knew that you couldn’t stop thinking about him. He would celebrate if he knew that you just can’t seem to get over what he did to you. Then again, if he knew where you are now, the only thing getting punched would be you. He might even kill you. God knows he’s capable of unspeakable things.

His name is too prominent in your mind: his face, his voice, his scent. You need to drown him out. You need to stop making everything about him. It isn’t healthy. And Claire was right when she told you that it’s a good thing another man—a good man, at that—is making you feel things you long couldn’t because you were too scared to allow yourself to feel even the slightest hint of affection.

You have to honor your promise to yourself and see where this date might take you. Matt is gentle. He won’t mind if you’re a little nervous. Hell, he won’t even mind if you wear a pair of sweatpants instead of this stupid dress, but you can’t deny that you still want to put yourself together and appear in something other than a pair of medical scrubs.

The dress you borrowed from Claire is a good fit for your skin tone and body type, you can’t deny that. It has turned heads before. You wore it to one of the fundraising campaigns Metro General sometimes hosts—it was summer then, a lot warmer than it is now, and you were toying around with the kids that came with their parents in Central Park. You were in charge of the games that day. One of the firefighters complimented you, but he was respectful about it, and his partner even asked you for a drink, but you declined both of them. They weren’t your type, although they were nice. It’s a fond memory that momentarily eases your anxiety.

Matt is nice, and he’s your type. You know he’s your type even after years of unlearning what your type even used to be. It’s not a coincidence that the two of you got along so well when you first met, and that he cared so much the other day when you got hurt.

Fuck. You realize you’re going to need to cover your nose with concealer. Not because Matt would care—he surely wouldn’t—but you don’t want to be looked at weirdly by the barista of your favorite coffee shop. That would be embarrassing.

“Liv?” Claire’s voice breaks through your downward spiral.

You snap out of it, throwing the dress on the bed. “Yeah, I’m here,” you mumble, working at your pajamas that you still haven’t changed out of. “I’m wearing the dress.” There is a certainty in your voice that surprises you.

You want to wear this dress. You want to go out with Matt. And you want to turn his head, even if you can’t do it with your looks. Looks are hardly all that matters, anyway. You have to remind yourself that he sees your mind, hears your voice, and has a different view of your soul than others. That’s what matters. That is all that should matter. You just have to make sure that you smell good or he will probably be appalled, considering blindness comes with heightened senses. If only you knew how heightened they truly are.

Your friend lets out a happy little, “HA!”

You shake your head, putting her on speaker, and changing out of your pajamas into the dress. You only have a handful of tights in your closet, and not a single pair of over-knee socks, but a pair of tights and your favorite boots should do the trick.

“Trust me,” Claire says, “one look at you in that dress, you’re gonna turn that guy’s head.” She sniffles, and you wonder how much longer she is going to torture herself with that cat.

“I’m not so sure my looks are going to matter much,” you say.

“Most people say looks don’t matter to them, but unless you solely fall in love with another person’s mind, looks will always play a part in how we perceive someone.”

“No, I meant that quite literally.” You pull the dress over your head. “I’m only dressing up to feel good about myself ‘cause looks definitely don’t matter to him.”

“How can you be sure?” she retorts.

You slip into a fresh pair of tights, some socks, and a pair of biking shorts underneath. “Did I not mention Matt’s blind?”

Silence follows your sentence. A pregnant pause. You said it so nonchalantly, you didn’t think anything of it. And why would you? It’s a part of him. It’s not unimportant—definitely not, considering that life works differently for him than it does for you—but it’s also not the only thing about him.

“Blind?” Claire’s voice is slightly shaky when she asks.

You frown at your phone screen while slipping into your favorite boots. “Yes, blind,” you say. “Although we didn��t get around to discussing his condition. I mean, medically, there is probably nothing I haven’t seen or heard before. I just didn’t think of asking him, “Hey, how’d it happen? Is it complete blindness? Amaurosis? Congenital?” Even I know that it’s not appropriate to ask someone you just met about their medical history. It’s something he has to want to talk about, not the other way around. I don’t expect full disclosure from a stranger like I do from my patients. And we both know dating a patient would be highly unethical.”

“I—” she cuts herself off.

One look at the time tells you that you’re already running late. If you want to catch your bus, you have to leave in the next five minutes. You slide the last of your heart-shaped earrings into your earlobe.

“Listen, Claire, if that’s all you have to say, I should go. I can’t miss my bus,” you say.

Her behavior may strike you as odd, but your mind is currently preoccupied with other things. You can’t pay much mind to the tone of her voice or the pronunciation of her words, or there is a chance you might not make it to your coffee date after all because you will be stuck in another downward spiral of overthinking.

She exhales. “I—okay, yeah. I’m sorry. It’s probably nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she agrees. “Go. Have fun. Just… be careful.”

The way she says it makes the hairs on your arms stand up. “I will.” Your eyebrows still furrowed in a frown. “I’ll call you later.”

The line clicks when you hang up, trying not to let the absurdity of the situation get to you. You have plans, and you have to stick to them.

With a swift shake of your head, you touch up your hair and makeup, assuring that the discoloration of your bruised nose looks less severe than it is before you grab your coat, your bag, and your phone, and you make your way out.

You’re not overdressed, but you still feel like you’re standing out of the crowd when you get on the bus. The bus driver pays no attention to you, and neither do the other passengers, but somehow all eyes are still on you. Maybe you should have gone for a pair of jeans instead? A longer dress? A shorter dress? Less cleavage? Maybe something a little less tight? A sweater would have worked nicely too, you’re sure. What if you get off at the next stop, hurry back to change, and arrive a little later than planned?

Matt probably won’t be on time either. He wanted to meet up half an hour later. That sounds like the kind of guy who needs a little more time, someone who struggles to be on time. Or maybe he’s the complete opposite of the picture you painted of him in your mind, and Claire’s reaction has something to do with it. It makes no sense—it absolutely makes no fucking sense, and you should stop worrying about things that don’t make any fucking sense whatsoever, but you can’t. You are physically incapable of stopping the spiral on your own.

Time stops when you overthink, and it’s only when more people start leaving the bus that you realize you have long missed the chance to get out, run back home, and change. You’re almost in the city, almost where your favorite coffee shop is located that you suggested to him and he agreed on, and there is no going back from here.

You don’t know where to put your hands. They’re shaking. Your heart is beating out of your chest. The sweat in your pores is threatening to drip down your temples, it feels like, and you’re starting to worry whether or not he will be able to smell how nervous you are. Your stomach is in knots. You can’t swallow the lump in your throat because it has lodged itself between your esophagus and your larynx. It’s too much—too loud, too hot, too everything. You just want to turn around and run. You want to disappear into the ground, melt into a puddle, and stay there.

When you look up toward the entrance of the coffee shop, he’s standing there. He’s on time. No, he’s early. The clock on your phone reads 2:28 pm. You wouldn’t have expected him to be so punctual. It scares you.

Your brain starts to secrete even more cortisol—should you run or should you fight? Fight might be the wrong word to use. It is more of a 'should you or should you not face a situation your inner demons don't want to face' dilemma.

The sudden wave of anxiety that washes over you mixes with a strange sizzling of excitement and a certain warmth that starts to build in your core. The feeling is much stranger than what you’re used to, and it makes you vibrate. Or at least it feels like you’re vibrating. Levitating. Dying. Maybe you’re having a heart attack.

Don’t be ridiculous, you think to yourself. You’re a doctor. You’re not having a heart attack. What you’re sure of though is that, if you start breathing even shallower, you will get a panic attack.

He looks good. Too good. His suit fits him perfectly. You wonder how much he spends to get his suits tailored so that he can breathe and move around freely, and still look fucking dashing whenever he sets foot outside. For someone who does mostly pro-bono work, he knows how to dress himself.

Matt is standing away from the many people crossing the sidewalk. He’s supporting himself on his cane, his red round glasses framing his sharp features perfectly. He has the kind of cheeks you just want to squeeze, yet his jawline is sharp enough to cut yourself on it. He hasn’t shaved in a few days, so his stubble is a lot more prominent. The locks on his head seem so soft, and he keeps the rest of him clean, too—you wouldn’t expect anything less from someone who has heightened senses due to the lack of one of the most crucial ones.

The way his muscles tense under his suit catches your attention. Your breath hitches again, and this time not because you’re nervous and worried out of your mind. His biceps are straining against the sleeves of his coat, and it seems like his chiseled chest is about to pop the buttons of his dress shirt, but it still fits perfectly enough to keep every sliver of skin hidden from the world.

Taking a deep breath, you close the distance between you. “Matt?” your voice cracks when you call his name.

He tilts his head in your direction. It doesn’t even take him a full second, nor does he pretend that he has trouble making you out of the sea of people. He probably has done this quite a few times. You can’t blame him. He’s an attractive man.

You wonder what would happen if he was yours. Women would still want him, and you would have to have faith. You wouldn’t consider yourself an overly jealous person, but the thought of having to compete makes your stomach churn. You feel so far out of his league that it doesn’t even cross your mind that you would be his as much as he would be yours, and it is no relationship if you feel like you have to compete with other women.

A part of you believes that he is the kind of man to pay undivided attention to the person he cares about, but who is to say that you are worth his attention? Who’s to say that he wouldn’t run at the first chance to be with someone less damaged, someone who’s beautiful in a different way, and someone who can give him peace instead of whatever mess you can offer him.

But then he smiles at you, and your worries are momentarily forgotten.

“Liv, hi,” he says. You shudder at the smooth sound of his voice. His hand reaches out, but he misses your arm. A slight frown finds its way onto his face as if he’s thinking to himself, ‘I’m usually better than this.’

You take a step closer. He finally gets a hold of your forearm. “I hope it’s you I’m touching and not some stranger with similarly soft forearms.”

Soft. He just called you soft. You have never been called that before. The giggle that escapes you makes you wonder where you left your brain this morning.

The left side has turned itself off entirely, leaving the right side of your brain in charge. This is the worst idea you’ve ever had. You’re already a mess. How are you supposed to survive the afternoon with him and only him? It feels like he’s staring right into your soul, which is impossible, but the glasses don’t give you insight into beautiful brown eyes, and that makes you wonder how he does it. How does he stare you down without actually staring you down?

You clear your throat. “No, it is me,” you answer. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he says again. The grin doesn’t leave his lips. He lets go of your arm, seemingly having oriented himself.

“Hi,” is all you can say. You miss his touch. It wasn’t even—or at least not mostly—because he wanted to touch you. He did it because there are so many people around you and he needed to know where exactly you stand. You can only imagine the anxiety that he’s feeling.

His smile turns into a smirk. “Hi.” He’s not making this easier on you. “How are you?” Matt finally puts you out of your misery.

What is the appropriate thing to answer? Good? Nervous? That you feel like you’re dying from a heart attack? Or that you miss his hand on your soft forearm?

“I’m–” you take a deep breath. “I’m good,” you say. “How’re you?”

He nods. “I’m alright, thank you.”

Your eyes flick down to the hand on his cane. He has his head tilted in your direction, his attention entirely on you. He adjusts his glasses. His smile turns into a softer expression of concern, and it makes your heart jump.

“You seem nervous,” he observes.

“I guess you could say that,” you admit. You can’t even stop the words before they tumble out of your mouth. “I don’t usually do this. You know, go on dates.”

“Really? Oh. I kind of figured men were lining up to get even a second of your attention, or trying to, at least.”

The blood rushes to your cheeks again. “Oh, I—No, they don’t do that.” Your head is spinning.

You always appear unapproachable, or so you’ve heard. You don’t know if it’s the way you look at people or the way you behave. Perhaps they get scared that they will burn themselves on your burning defenses. You wouldn’t put it past them. You have pushed what little advances people have made on you in the past two years away because you were scared of burning yourself, and you weren’t interested in trying to mend that. With Matt, that’s different.

If men were lining up to be with you, your first response would surely be to flee, and not because of your personal issues with the opposite sex. You would flee out of natural instinct.

Matt clears his throat. “I’m terrible at getting hints. If I’m making you uncomfortable or you think you made the wrong choice by coming here, I wouldn’t blame you for leaving,” he says.

He’s giving you a choice—an out. That alone makes the blood in your cheeks spread faster, and your palms start sweating. You don’t want to go.

“No,” you quickly shake your head. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

“Are you sure?”

You reach out, boldly so, and take his hand in yours. “Yes. Am I making you uncomfortable?” you ask.

Matt swallows thickly. His Adam’s apple bops as he tries to get rid of the lump in his throat. His fingers twitch when you wrap your own around his and place them against your forearm again. If you look close enough, you might even see a soft sheen of sweat on his forehead.

The silence persists for a few seconds. “No,” he answers then. “You simply have a way of, um...taking my breath away.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all.” He tightens his grip. His lips open, and he stammers for a moment before he finds his words again. “I find it refreshing. It’s not often I meet someone who can knock me off my feet, so…” Breaking off into a chuckle, Matt lowers his head to adjust his glasses once again.

The way he’s fidgeting with his fingers tells you that you’re not the only nervous one out of the two of you. Maybe the fact that you render him speechless affects him more than he lets on. He seems like the kind of guy who likes to be in control because he feels like he has to be or the world might end. You know that feeling all too well.

It would be so much easier if he wasn’t so charming, but if it were easy and he wasn’t so charming, you would still feel utterly alone in this life. New beginnings are supposed to feel better than an unhappy ending. New beginnings are supposed to offer a chance at happiness, and even though you are a little late with trying to find your way back to civilization after keeping yourself locked in a cage of someone else’s making for so long, there is a chance now. A chance that you have to take.

The easy way out would be to turn around and forget you ever met him, but Matt deserves better, and so do you. The easy way out would hurt too much.

You lick your lips absentmindedly. He sucks in a sharp breath. You’re a lot more sensitive to the behavior of others than a normal person would be. Is he attracted to you? Do you turn him on? Those are questions that make your head spin worse than it has been ever since you laid eyes on him.

“I’m sorry,” you break the awkward silence, your voice breathless. “It seems like the feeling is mutual.”

Your confidence is starting to build, convincing you that you can do this. And maybe you can. You’re not leaving him cold, that much is sure when you take a moment to analyze his body language.

His thumb brushes over your forearm. He seems so much more experienced than you, and he keeps his composure in a way you can’t relate to. You are dying inside, and the blood is pumping in your cheeks while leaving the rest of your body cold. Except for your very core; you can feel the heat starting to spread through your core, shooting between your legs just from the way he touches you.

You thought this would be an innocent coffee date—you were wrong. Your body is as desperate for a physical connection as your soul yearns for an emotional connection. It’s a strange combination of needs that hits you at once and with full force. And it is all directed at him. This guy you barely know but has turned your head every single time you have met him.

You’re fucked.

Matt smirks, as though he knows something that you do not. “You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he murmurs.

“The fact that you knocked me off my feet?” you ask dumbfounded. You’re glad he can’t see your face because that would be utterly embarrassing.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “that.”

You want to scream, 'God, you’re hot,' but you would rather not embarrass yourself in front of him like that. His smirk makes it hard to focus, but if you don’t want to spend the rest of the afternoon on the sidewalk, staring at him while he holds onto your forearm, one of you has to start moving.

“Do you want to go inside?” you ask.

“Yeah. Lead the way,” he says.

You gently slide his hand from your forearm into your own. You wish you could see his eyes right now. Are those beautiful hazel eyes with emerald specks in them sparkling? You saw how expressive they were when you patched him up. They were unfocused and pained, but they also reminded you of an array of stars. It’s probably unintentional, but his eyes give away how he’s feeling at any given time, and that, to you, is one of the most beautiful qualities he could possess because it means that he’s real. He can’t lie because his eyes would give them away.

His glasses don’t make Matt hard to read, but they sure make you miss the universe you got to stare into a few days ago. It felt like a privilege.

He keeps his cane pressed tightly to his chest, using the tip to check the small radius around him while he holds on tightly to your hand, trusting you to guide him where he needs to go without putting him at risk.

“Door,” you tell him as you make your way into the café. You hold it open, and he uses his cane to make sure he doesn’t accidentally bump into you or the doorframe.

Just as you’re about to enter, a couple comes at you. You twirl around, placing a hand on his waist and pulling him a bit closer to you before someone can bump into him. He raises his eyebrows.

“Oh,” he exclaims when the couple apologizes for not looking, and he tilts his way back in your direction, Your hands are still on his waist, standing closer to you than ever before. His cheeks flush. Got him. “Thank you,” he stammers, but not without letting out a chuckle that resembles a small giggle.

Your heart melts, and you damn Matt Murdock for not only being a walking wet dream but for being so kindhearted and adorable. And why does he smell so good?

“No problem,” you answer breathlessly.

“It helps that one of us isn’t blind, huh?”

It’s your turn to laugh. “It’s a big responsibility if you’re seeing for two, so I try to take it seriously.”

His giggle turns into a laugh that comes deep from his chest, but it still sounds like a soft symphony you might hear playing on a spring day. “Yeah,” Matt says, “You’re taking it very seriously.”

“I’d call myself your knight in shining armor, but I believe that comparison is outdated and wrong since you don’t need saving.”

“I wouldn't mind being saved by you.”

You open your mouth, but the only thing that comes out is a startled breath. “Okay, now you’re just trying to make me blush.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

He smirks. “I wouldn’t get anything out of making you blush, but I do enjoy hearing the smile in your voice whenever I compliment you. So, maybe that’s what I’m doing.”

“Oh.”

“Your smile sounds nice. Beautiful. It’s how I, uh, see you. And you’re calm. I—the world is often too loud, you know, and your voice is a welcome distraction from all the, uh, noise. Helps me relax. If you know what I mean.”

If he keeps talking, you are sure that you will pull him closer by his waist and kiss him. You can’t remember the last time you have felt a need quite like this one. And you have never wanted to kiss another human being more than him. Why? Just because he’s nice to you? No. He’s not just nice to you. You probably would have run by now if he were just nice to you.

Matt is genuine, which seems to be his personality trait, and it makes you feel somewhat important again. Like you’re worthy of whatever it is he’s giving you, not constant pain and suffering. It’s strange and new, and it is still terrifying in a way, but once you let it happen, it’s a lot more gentle on your soul.

“Fuck me,” you curse under your breath. “We haven’t even sat down yet.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No.”

“So, does that mean I can still buy you a coffee?”

“Now more than ever,” you blurt the first sentence that comes to mind. You look at him as if he is a rare species, and you’re painfully aware of that.

Can he read your mind? Whenever you look at him, it seems like he knows just what you’re going through. He tries to hide it, but it’s almost as if he’s already inside of you. Not in the way you want him to but in a way that makes you feel vulnerable, but you still would surrender all of you to him if he just asked.

Your hands slip from his waist.

“After you,” he says, grabbing a hold of your arm again.

“Right,” you mutter. “After me.”

The line isn’t long. You get behind a few other people, Matt’s hand still tightly clasping your bicep.

“I just realized that they don’t have a Braille option for the menu.” Your eyes dart around the room, but the only visible menu is the one hanging above the counter.

You’ve been here more times than you can count, but you never actively paid attention to how accessible it all is—which is not at all.

Matt chuckles beside you, his breath tickling your ear. “Read it to me,” he says. His voice is soft, quiet, and kept low so only you can hear him.

You shiver. Your lips suddenly feel drier than the desert. You won’t survive this day, you’re sure. He’s going to kill you.

“R-read it to you?” you stammer as if it is such an outlandish request. It isn’t. You just can’t process it properly, not when he’s so close to you and he smells like he does.

He doesn’t have a strong, overwhelming scent. The cologne he’s wearing only has a slight whiff of sandalwood and nature, but it’s nothing too overwhelming. Of course, he must have a sensitive sense of smell as well. He probably uses scentless soap and shampoo, and the cologne he uses might even be the only scent he can stand. What you smell on him must be his natural scent. Clean, soft, warm—you’re obsessed with it. You’re addicted to it.

Matt nods again. “Yeah, read it to me,” he repeats.

“Okay–” you take a deep breath, and you begin to recite the options you already know by heart. Coffee, cold drinks, tea, lunch options, and snacks.

He listens intently to what you have to say. “I think I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Did you decide that now or did you know that from the beginning?”

“I may have already known,” he says with a smirk.

“Then why did you ask me to read it to you?”

“I like listening to your voice.”

When you suck in a sharp breath this time, you manage to conceal it better. “That’s cheesy,” you retort, trying to match the tone of his voice but failing miserably. Flirting over the phone proves to be much easier than in person, especially with a man like him.

“Is it still cheesy if it’s the truth?” Matt asks.

You look at him, staring at your reflection in his glasses, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “The truth can be cheesy.”

“That’s true, but I made you smile. I’d consider my cheesiness successful.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

He chuckles. “Oh, don’t worry. It won’t. Can’t deny it makes me feel good though.”

You exhale again, even more shaky than the last time. All you can see is yourself in his reflection. Before you can answer, the couple in front of you finishes their order and moves on to the other end of the counter, allowing you to step forward.

“Hi,” you say to the barista behind the counter. “Could I get two regular lattes and two muffins, please?”

Matt smirks beside you, not at all fazed by your ignorance of his antics. If anything, it spurs him on further, and he tightens his grip on your arm. Deep down, you know that he is doing it on purpose, but at the first sign of you being uncomfortable, there is no doubt in your mind that he will stop. But you’re not uncomfortable; you’re merely flustered beyond relief. To him, that’s a good sign because it means that you’re in this and not with one foot out the door—and you wouldn’t want to be, anyway, which is much scarier than the prospect of turning around and remaining alone for the rest of your life.

A bit of fear goes a long way, but there are still walls that he has to break through. Walls you won’t let him through so easily, but you also know you can’t keep him at an arm’s length forever. Eventually, the truth will come out, and you’re not quite sure how to deal with that revelation before your date has even taken off.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @danzer8705 @kakamixo @littlehappyperson @atemydadforbreakfast @stevenknightmarc @zheezs14 @shouldbestudying41 @kiwwia-wiwwia @writtenbyred

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #daredevil x reader #reader insert #charlie cox #doctor!reader #do no harm

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thatwasntverycashmoneyofme · 10 months

Text

𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋

❥𝗌𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗍 : 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗒𝖺 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾.

{ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 — 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖼𝗈𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝖽𝗁𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗒𝖺, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿-𝗂𝗌𝗁. }

you sigh in frustration, kneading your temple, sitting on the smooth gym floors. "oh great! thanks for getting us stuck noya, i would’ve had this happen faster." your tone had a bite to it that noya didn’t know what to make of as he copied you, hesitantly sitting next to you.

"i don’t know if you’re saying this to be sarcastic or hurt my feelings.. either way you’re managing both completely well." you rolled your eyes. "that’s rough buddy." noya outside of getting y’all stuck in the gym storage had no why you were being so hostile. "why do you hate me?"

you bit your lip looking off to the side before you sighed, eyes feeling heavy. "i don’t hate you.. i just don’t like loud people, you should take a chill pill once in a while.. and then you got us stuck in here! when all i wanted to do was go home and sleep!" he could hear the exasperation in your voice, you must have had a rough day.

"well i’m probably not as comfortable as your bed but you can lay on me.. i-if you want to.. i’ll try to be as quiet as possible." you sigh nodding droopily mumbling an "alright." as your sleepy frame fell on noya’s lap, the two jackets he placed there giving you about as much comfort as two athletic jackets could, but it didn’t matter because as soon as your head hit them you were out like a light.

noya stiffened at the weight of your head in his lap he thought it was a good idea to suggest this, being nice and all, but he needed to move, needed to do anything to distract himself from the fact he was consigned to one place, one spot he looked around near himself, finding nothing but equipment too far from his reach and dust until a lightbulb went off over his head— you were right in his lap duh!

he looked down at your sleeping face, your eyebrows were scrunched with bags under your eyes as if even in your dreams you were busy at work. his eyes dart to your plump lips, gloss from the beginning of the day probably, fading, maybe from the amount of times you pursed your lips listening to the dumb shit people say. (him included) your mouth slightly opened and he can hear your soft breathing if he listens close enough, which he tries to, leaning over bringing his face closer to yours.

"you look so pretty." he mumbles your eyebrows twitch and noya’s face heats up he springs up too fast, a hushed yelp rushed from his mouth, your shuffling and agitated mumble of a "shh! shut up." being the only thing to stop him from his internal dilemma, so he pauses calming himself before looking at you again, this time focused on your hair.

the heaviness of the braids sprawled across his lap that he didn’t notice before drawing his attention, he hums picking up a single braid touching it, fingers sliding down the plait feeling the ridges of it he began playing with your hair, braiding the plaits wearing your hair like a mustache and running his fingers through the weave he he stopped hearing a voice on the other side of the door.

"this.. isn’t supposed to be this way." noya clears his throat to level his voice from not talking for so long. "in here! we’re stuck in here!" he hears shuffling on the other side, beginning nudging you to wake up. you groan as the the door clicks open, nishinoya comes face to face with his high school ace, roommate and best friend asahi who pales before taking in the situation of the sleeping brown girl on his best friend’s lap, letting out a heavy sigh thankful that he didn’t make the mistake of interrupting a couple.. again.

noya shakes you awake and you sit up drowsy, rubbing your eyes turning your face to the side to yawn. "so how long have you two been in here?" asahi asks stumped as you both get off the hard floor, you sigh a tan slipping out. “before my phone died it was.. i dunno like 3:15 or something." asahi grunts pulling out his phone before looking at noya.

"you both have been in here for almost three hours!.. and where was your phone?" noya follows you out the room raising his hands questioningly. "it’s probably in my backpack. i don’t keep it on me when i practice." the taller male lets out a "makes sense" walking in pace with the shorter one looking behind him to find you trying to stay coherent.

"and what about y/n? how’d she get stuck in there.. with you?" noya looks off to the side blush slowly creeping up neck as he rubbed the back of it, a nervous chuckle leaving his lips. "yeaa that was my fault too." he turns noticing you still behind them he pats asahi on the back "i’ll see you back at the dorm." asahi let out a dry "yea just don’t go somewhere getting stuck again because I’m done for the night."

noya laughed standing still as asahi walked ahead, waiting for you to step by his side before walking in tune with you. you hum softly wondering why he left his friend. "can i walk you to your dorms?" and noya can basically see the sandman dancing in your pretty brown eyes. he observes your face recalling earlier when he was so close making him turn red and look off to the side when you mumbled a "sure i don’t mind." a quiet "okay!" squeaked from his flushed face.

y’all walk in silence for the next 8 minutes as you arrive at your door. you fumble for your keys in your bag when noya finally decides to speak. "so i know that being stuck ina closet with me today wasn’t ideal, but maybe we can do it on purpose one day? if you want i mean i jus—" he looked at your tired eyes finding your lips pursed before just spitting it out.

"your number.. can i get you number and we can like hang out or something." you pull out a pen, lightly grabbing his wrist, writing your ten digits on his forearm you turn around as soon as you finished, unlocking your door. "don’t text me today, text me tomorrow.. i’m too tired to do anything for the rest of the day." you walk in turning around softly mumbling a "bye noya." softly closing the door.

when the door shut noya looked to his arm to see your number there with a cute heart next to the last digit, he swore he short circuited for a second a hand in the air as he jumped shouting. "yess!" you smile from your bed at noya’s loudness and his apologies after hearing a few neighbors tell him to shut up.

𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌. 𝖣𝖮𝖭𝖳 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅, 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾. ©𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗅

#city.writes #black writers #noya is just a cute lil ball of pure energy you can’t tell me he doesn’t have adhd #i mean you can i just won’t listen 🤷🏾‍♀️it’s canon now #black reader #black fem reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #black yn #tw black reader #tw not for non blacks 😒#nishinoya x black!reader #nishinoya x black fem!reader #haikyuu noya #noya #hq

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eco-lite · 7 months

Text

Volume 5 thoughts! I can’t believe I have to wait until November for volume 6. 😩

“Citrine Undaunted”

* Bye bye, Shimomura. 👋🏼 Good luck following your passions. I hope Seigi will take inspiration from this.

* This is truly such a bizarre story. Why does it feel like Ms. Darling is some supernatural creature trying to influence Seigi’s path in life? And her compliments about Seigi’s hands are very uncomfortable.

* “It was a lot easier when you let your brain process what you were going to say before you opened your mouth, rather than blurting out something stupid in a panic” (36). Seigi… are you just learning this now?

* I can’t wait for Seigi to do some actual self-reflection and realize that he doesn’t give a shit about being a civil servant.

* Richard loves showing Seigi bi-colored stones, huh…?

* Richard sending emojis makes me so happy.

“A Visage in Sardonyx”

* Poor Homura. Let’s hope third time’s the charm for him. He does seem a bit to quick to marry though.

* Wait, so agate is quartz too? I never new so many stones were varieties of quartz!

* I never know how cameos were made either—that’s so cool!

* “‘Say, for example, you love someone in a romantic sense, but that person doesn’t even consider you a romantic possibility. You’re just someone they “care about deeply”’” (81). Please don’t say this to Richard. That’s gonna hit way to close to home. 🥲

* I’ve considered before that Richard may have wanted to just stop living, but it doesn’t hurt any less for him to confirm it. I’m glad he has support now. It gives new mean to when he says that Saul saved his life, though.

* SEIGI! How are you going to say that your relationship with Richard hasn’t changed at all, and that you’re just boss and employee?! After everything you went through together in the last volume??? Now that you regularly go out to dinner together and talk in the phone until 1:30am?????? What is your problem, man?

* I know the circumstances are weird, but I think Richard and Tanimoto would get along really well and have a lot to talk about. I’m excited for them to meet!

* Although I feel weird about the whole “in love with my stepmother” thing, this case was an interesting exploration of different kinds of love—and how defining your love for someone sometimes isn’t the most important thing. What matters is that the love is there. I suppose I agree with that. It definitely matters how you define the relationship that the love occurs in, though. Seigi needs to start thinking about that.

“The Majesty of Zircon”

* I agree that strict government work probably is t right for Seigi, but damn, his classmates are brutal!

* “And that was how the first step of my self-assessment started—with the fact that I apparently didn’t know the first thing about myself being shoved in my face” (110). Yeah, there are several things you don’t know about yourself, Seigi. Once again, I am begging you to do some self-reflection!

* Woah, a flashback and a POV switch?!

* “‘… I have a interest in waterside ecosystems’” (124). Wow me too!

* Not Jeffrey suggesting they burn the Claremont estate down 😅

* Lol the catharsis of punching Jeffrey in a dream. Wish I could do that. If Richard’s dream is accurate… wtf, Jeffrey?

* “‘…I don’t know how many people you must’ve hurt by being such an impossibly insensitive jerk. A guy like you would never be popular with the high school girls in Delhi, no matter how handsome you are. I could call a dozen of my old friends, and they’d all be like “No thanks”’” (172). You tell him! I love Monica so much.

* Lol Richard giving himself a pep talk in order to make a salad.

* This puts a new perspective on the scene in “White Sapphire” when Richard tells Seigi that he should value himself more than to just throw himself into dangerous situations to save others. Richard learned that lesson himself. He also cares about people deeply enough to take crazy desperate actions. Saul was the one who taught Richard to have more care for himself, and now Richard is passing on that advice to Seigi.

“The Grace of Peridot”

* Not Richard making Seigi read Les Misérables lol

* No Seigi, your past is not “better left unsaid!” Please tell us!

* I really don’t understand why Richard’s parents ever thought they could make their relationship work. Like, how do a conservation-focused entomologist and a self-obsessed actress even fall in love with each other??

* I can’t believe I’m past the point where Seigi saying he would jump into a fire if Richard begged him to doesn’t phase me at all. Yeah, that’s normal Seigi behavior. 🤦🏽‍♀️ For real though, the image of Richard crying and begging is truly very distressing. I hope he never feels so much pain.

* I don’t think we’ve seen Seigi call Richard cute before. And not only cute, but “like a matcha frappé with whipped cream and chocolate chips and muscovado sugar” (256). Wowie.

* This reunion with Chieko is so sweet. Richard is actually being adorable.

* “At any rate, I knew that Richard was not fit to stand around and chat, so I decided to wrap things up there” (258). It’s really hitting me just how attentive Seigi is to Richard’s emotional needs. It’s not just carrying candy around to pacify him when he’s in a bad mood. In this situation, Seigi understands that reuniting with Chieko is a very happy, but also emotionally exhausting experience for Richard. Seigi knows just when to remove them from the situation and come back another time. It’s very sweet.

* HOMURA PLEASE WHY ARE YOU HERE? Well, at least it seems like this relationship will succeed. Third time’s the charm.

* I’m so happy that Richard had such a caring mother figure, and that they’re reunited now. I hope they can see each other often.

* Ew not Margaret Thatcher 😑

* Classic marriage mixup once again.

* Wtf is Richard going to say to him?! You can’t just not let us in on this, Tsujimura!

“Andalusite on Christmas Eve”

* Tanimoto: misunderstands Seigi as always. Seigi: “There really are no gods in this world, huh?” 🥲

* “‘Now, I’m just speaking for myself, but special days can be a bit like storms. And in stormy weather, what you need isn’t a compass or sails but a calm harbor where you can set anchor.’ And then Richard said softly that he prayed that I would find such a place” (291). Holy shit. 🥲🥲

“Tiger’s Eye Look Back”

* A cute little story from the first few months of Seigi working at Étranger. I’m trying to figure out why this little scene was included, though. Maybe to show us just how far both Seigi and Richard have come since the beginning of the story.

* I find it really interesting that Seigi never questions why he finds Richard so beautiful. I feel like a typical “straight” man would not be so casual about thinking another man is beautiful, or having any of the other extremely romantically coded thoughts Seigi has about Richard. But I do appreciate that this series normalizes all different types of people finding beauty and happiness in all sorts of things.

Unrelated to a specific case, but now that Tsujimura has established multiple perspectives besides Seigi’s, I really want to read from Richard’s perspective. I know that would diminish the mystery around him and take away from learning about him as Seigi does, but I really want to know his thoughts in the moment he met Seigi. I’d love a re-telling of that first case from Richard’s POV.

#the case files of jeweler richard #jeweler richard #richard ranasinghe de vulpian #nakata seigi #tsujimura nanako

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rottingmanifesto · 3 months

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16 or 36 for anything you feel like writing currently! :D

Trying out some different formats. Hope it’s legible. Fair warning that I got way too carried away with ‘total control’, so it’s under a cut.

16. in dreams

Journal, Lincoln, 1st person.

Keep havin’ weird dreams. Can’t explain them very well, all I know is I keep scaring the hell outta a few of the guys when I jolt up. Davis suggested I see the Chaplain ‘bout it. Pretty sure it’s not demons, so unless he’s got holy-water-melatonin, I don’t think he can help.

One of the dreams is about Danny and Nicki arguin’ over their old man’s body. Cancer or poisoning or something of the like. Not sure why I’m there at all, I just am. Both keep beggin’ me for an answer. I can’t. Someone’s cut out my tongue and noises don’t help. He’s dead, they’re arguing, I can’t do anythin’.

Father said something offhandedly in a letter about my nightmares being chronic. Happened when I was a kid, stopped for whatever reason, an’ now they’re back. Never told him I was having any, but that’s Father for you. He jus’ knows things. Didn’t tell Sammy or Ellis though, both seem to think I’m fine. Not sayin’ I’m not. Just don’t think it’s worth tellin’ them, worryin’ them over stupid shit like dreams. Got bigger issues than that.

36. total control

Script-ish, John and Connor, 3rd person.

J: You were supposed to die.

A: Yeah, firing squad. I remember. Hard to forget.

J: Would’ve preferred a hanging, actually.

A: Didn’t know the United States still used that method.

J: I’m sure they’d make an exception.

A: (mild discomforting laugh) Of course they would.

J: (faltering, lowering gun, searching for words)

A: Maybe you should set the gun down. Your hand’s twitching. Don’t want a misfire.

J: Shut the fuck up.

A: What, I can’t look out for you? What happens if you twitch and kill that friend of yours out there?

J: Don’t bring him into this.

A: Lincoln, right? Hear he’s taking after you very well. Brazen and theatrical.

J: Yes, because you’re a master at subtlety.

A: Comes with the job.

J: Jesus Chr—a fucking warhead isn’t subtle.

A: Neither is hanging a man from a Ferris wheel. Or, you know, (signaling to cheek with J’s given-cigarette) this.

J: That was self-defense.

A: Sure. Of course.

J: Can you just go one fucking sentence without being an asshole, or is that above you?

A: Give me a reason to, and I will.

J: I have a gun and you don’t.

A: That’s not enough, Johnny, and you know that.

J: Don’t call me that.

A: Sorry, I’m delirious from the blood loss. I thought you were that kid I helped so many years ago. He looked an awful lot like you, too. (painful cough, takes a drag to cover up whatever expression he has on his face) Forgive me, Mr. Donovan.

J: You know, I used to believe in you back then. (voice breaks, begins to pace, having his back to A) Thought you represented everything great about this country.

A: Don’t I still?

J: You don’t. You’re just as fucking greedy and selfish as everyone else. (wheels around to face A, pointing a quivering gun between his eyes)

A: Exactly. That’s the real America. The one that doesn’t care about drafted soldiers drowning in mud, or those who come back seeing shit and knowing they fundamentally aren’t right anymore. The one that doesn’t care about people like your friend out there. The one that would sooner hang you for being a homosexual than me for being a so-called “traitor”.

J: So you’re justified with selling a goddamn nuke, is that what you’re saying?

A: (still fucking smiling) Your comprehension has improved some. Congratulations.

J: (crouches down to be eye-level) So the money was just to sweeten the deal, huh? To ease your conscious— (he presses his hand into A’s wound as harshly as possible, causing A to jolt in pain)— when innocent people inevitably fucking die?

A: We both know I won’t be the last person to do so. If it isn’t the NVA, it’ll be someone else. It’ll keep going until the United States is destroyed.

J: (begins to pace again, silent, blinking hard to avoid tears)

A: I was going to end it, John. I was going to make everyone free from this bullshit. Including you. Including your friend. Including everyone else who is subject to America’s tyranny. I was going to do what you’re too cowardly to do! I was going to end it all!

J: (whips around sharply) Are you finished?

A: (panting, out of energy, the pain finally overcoming the adrenaline and pride, he realizes he’s no longer in total control.)

A: It appears so.

#mafia 3 #john donovan #connor aldridge #lincoln clay #my writing #I’m not insanely happy with this but I wrote and that’s what matters #oh yay I can edit tags now so edit: I’m probably gonna delete this later

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amatchinwater · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Steo

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Tracy Stewart, Theo Raeken, Josh Diaz, Hayden Romero

Warnings: Use of kanima venom, paralysis, colon typical violence, character death (not steo),

Words: 2424

Prompt: @badthingshappenbingo square Poison/Venom

Ao3 link Masterlist

Don't Kidnap Stiles

---

“Wha- ow,” Stiles moves to clutch his pounding skull only to find that he can’t move. “What the hell,” he squints his eyes open to find himself completely unfamiliar with his surroundings.

Then again, Stiles doesn’t think anyone has recognized these surroundings in a very long time. There’s dust everywhere, the couch he’s half sitting on has a disgusting, torn cover that might have once been white. But time and neglect have turned it a sickly brown-gray. The walls look like they’re literally decaying right before his eyes. Paint chipping and wallpaper half torn with shreds on the floor.

But the fact of the matter is, regardless of where he is, he can’t move.

Which can only mean one thing.

Tracy.

What did he possibly do to piss the kanima off? Stiles tries to avoid her as much as possible outside of pack related things. There’s nothing he could’ve done.

Where did she take him? All of the windows are boarded up, so he can’t see outside. Not that he can see all that well inside either. All of the lights he can see are busted, his only source is the natural light through the slats on the windows. So it’s daytime, that much he knows. But what day is it? How long has he been gone for?

Every horror movie he’s ever watched would heavily suggest that he should not do this. But Stiles has to face this eventually. Might as well have it be on his own terms. “Hello!” Stiles yells, “Tracy, are you here?”

She can’t be far, right? Just because he’s paralyzed doesn’t mean she’d just leave. Unless she knows exactly how long her venom lasts for. Which isn’t a fun thought if he’s honest.

“Tracy!” Stiles huffs, cool, so she just left him here to die probably. “Tra-”

“God, would you stop yelling?” Tracy appears around a corner, “it’s so fucking annoying.” The kanima crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the wall. “Do you need something, Your Highness?”

Your Highness? What? Stiles knows she’s not his biggest fan, but this is ridiculous. “Where am I, Tracy? What the hell is going on?” Okay, giving your kidnapper an attitude probably isn’t the best choice, but something’s gotta give. He needs answers.

“As if I’m going to tell you where you are,” she scoffs, shoving herself off the wall. Tracy stalks towards him, squatting in front of his knees, “but I guess I can’t see the harm in telling you why you’re here.”

Stiles bites away the sarcastic remark. He’s lucky enough that she didn’t get violent before. “Okay. Why am I here?” He asks, playing her little game.

“I want Theo,” she says plainly.

Stiles blinks. Then blinks twice. Was that supposed to be an explanation? Because it wasn’t. “What does that have to do with me?” He asks, carefully so he doesn’t sound rude. He’s so confused about the role he plays in this.

“Everything!” Tracy roars, snake eyes blazing angrily. If Stiles had the mobility to flinch, he would have. She shoots to her feet facing away and scoffs, “Theo doesn’t even look at me when you’re around!”

This is a joke, right? It has to be. Stiles has seen with his own two eyes the way Theo looks at her. Because in what world would someone who looks like Theo give two shits about him with someone like Tracy in the room? It just doesn’t make sense. Does Stiles find their Alpha unnecessarily attractive and have the worst crush on him? Without a doubt. But that doesn’t mean Theo wants him like that.

No way.

“Is this a joke?” Stiles snickers, though he tries not to. “Last I checked, Theo wanted you. He never pushes you away when you try to get close.”

The kanima whips around, “oh, but he has. You just don’t see it. I’ve tried to make it very clear that I want him. Pathetically thrown myself at him. But all he wants is you,” she seethes.

“Right,” Stiles quips, “sure.”

He never thought Tracy was the brightest crayon in the box, but he also didn’t think she was this stupid.

“He said so himself!” The kanima yells. “I asked him why I wasn’t good enough for him.” Tracy’s eyes tear up, “he said because I wasn’t you.”

Oh.

“Theo said that?” Stiles breathes out.

Color him shocked.

“He’s in love with you, you asshole. You don’t have to be so smug about it.”

“Tracy, I-”

“Spare me your pity,” the kanima sniffles, shaking her arms out, “I don’t need it.”

“But-”

“Besides,” she chuckles with a shrug, “you won’t be around much longer to be a problem.”

“What?”

No. No, no. Surely this was just meant to scare him. Tracy isn’t fucked up enough to kill him. Right?

Right?

“Goodnight, Stiles,” Tracy smirks, rushing the short distance and knocking him out cold.

With her venom coursing through his system, there wasn’t even a chance to defend himself.

—

Stiles isn’t quite sure how long he’s been here for. Tracy has knocked him unconscious at least six times if his math is correct. And judging by how many different outfits he’s seen the kanima in, that he knows of, it’s been at least four days. Because he has no way of knowing how long he was here before he woke up the first time. Or if he’s slept more than one day after her punches. Not to mention how that many blows to the head could affect his brain.

Tracy has fed him twice. Two times in the minimum four days he’s been here. Which doesn’t make any sense to him. If the kanima wants Stiles dead so badly, starvation is a great way to achieve that. She also gives him a bed pan when he needs to go to the bathroom. Which isn’t often and has turned very dark in color due to dehydration. Tracy is surprisingly clinical about it, like undressing and redressing him is nothing of consequence to her.

She’s gone again. And with what little light is sneaking through the cracks, it’s somewhere in the early morning.

He misses Theo.

Stiles never thought he was allowed to do anything or ever voice his feelings to anyone but himself because of the visible heart eyes between Theo and Tracy. Or at least what he thought was obvious. But now, looking back on it, Stiles missed every time that Tracy tried to get close to their Alpha that Theo would come sit by him. Stiles assumed it was Theo not playing favorites. Giving attention to the human of his pack just as much as the others. Like he does with Mason.

But Theo was playing favorites!

And Stiles is his favorite.

How could he have been so stupid? Exactly how long could Stiles have been with Theo if he’d only paid better attention? A couple months? A year? The first time he walked into Theo’s house asking to be in his pack? Longer?

All that time, wasted on obliviousness and pining and Stiles could’ve had what he wanted.

Theo wants him.

If only he has a way out of here. But there’s not much Stiles can do just being human and with a constant tap of kanima venom in his veins.

Stiles’ finger twitches.

His eyes dart to his hand, daring the digit to move again. Tracy has been gone for a while. There’s a lot more daylight coming through the windows now. Maybe the venom is wearing off. Focus, and Stiles might just get out of this. Even as a human he stands a small chance. All he needs is a little luck.

What’s the scene from Kill Bill? Wiggle your big toe. In Stiles’ case, his pointer finger, but the concept still stands.

Move. Your. Finger.

“Ha!” Stiles cheers in triumph, his finger lifting up and down from the couch at his command. “Come on, Stilinski, keep it u-”

The front door bursts open, Tracy hastily slamming it shut and locking it. Stiles doesn’t need to be able to smell chemosignals to know she’s nervous; terrified even. And the kanima is clutching her side, breath labored.

“Stupid,” Tracy mutters, “so stupid,” as she stumbles towards him grunting. She only makes it halfway before her legs give out and she crumbles against the wall. Tracy pulls her hand back showing it slick with blood. She winces as she presses it on the wound again.

“You’re hurt,” Stiles states.

Tracy snaps, “it’ll heal.”

“What happened?”

The kanima ignores him and growls, taking her hand off the wound again to inspect it.

“What happened?” Stiles repeats.

“Theo happened,” Tracy seethes, half lunging towards him before wincing again. “I thought I could try one last time. The pack was in the kitchen and I was alone with him in the living room.”

Stiles’ leg twitches, but the kanima is too busy telling him her story to notice. Good. Focus on yourself so that the rest of your venom can wear off. Her being wounded increases his chances of making it out of here.

“So I cuddled up to him,” Tracy huffs, “played it off like I was just scenting my pack, trying to help him feel better about still not being able to find you. And then I straddled his lap.” Stiles swallows the bile in his throat. “I kissed him. At first I thought he was going to kiss me back. His hands were on my waist and he groaned. But-” she stops, sounding choked up.

“But?” Stiles asks, pretending like he’s hanging onto every word she’s saying. But in reality, the longer she takes to tell her story, the more time her paralytic has to run its course. He can almost turn his head. Knowing Theo has been looking for him fuels his fight.

“He asked why I smelled like you,” Tracy snarls. “Apparently I didn’t clean your stink off of me well enough when I left last.”

Theo recognizes his scent. And is upset that he’s gone. Hopefully he and his father are raising hell to look for him.

“When I couldn’t give him a good enough answer, Theo sunk his claws into my sides and threw me off of him.” Tracy stands up gingerly and Stiles’ whole body tenses. He’s so close, she can’t scratch him now. “I ran like hell to get here. Time to finish the job. If he wants you so badly, he can find your corpse.”

Shit.

Tracy’s movements are sluggish and his limbs aren’t entirely his own just yet. All Stiles can do is throw himself off the couch and try to crawl away. A slug moves faster. Her hand fists the back of his flannel, throwing Stiles into the wall she was just slumped against.

He definitely felt that.

Numb hands brush the broken glass from his palms right as the front door is kicked in, sending it right off its hinges. Bits of wood splinters clatter on the floor followed by a vicious, loud roar. Both Stiles and Tracy recoil at the sound. The former from the mere volume, the latter out of fear.

Theo, with violently glowing red eyes, rushes into the house; Josh and Hayden behind him.

“Stiles,” the Alpha falls to his knees in front of him while his packmates subdue Tracy. “I’m gonna get you out of here in just a second, Angel,” Theo brushes hair off of Stiles’ forehead before kissing the exposed skin.

“Angel?” Stiles snorts despite himself. It’s cute and he definitely likes it, he just didn’t fully know what to expect if he ever saw Theo again.

“Yes,” Theo smiles softly, stroking his cheek, “Angel. Would you prefer Baby and Sweetheart too? ‘Cause I can do that.” But then the Alpha notices the state of him. The multicolor bruises on his nose and face from Tracy punching him. The lethargy in Stiles’ limbs. The blood on his palms. Theo’s eyes burn red again, “you’re hurt, baby. She hurt you,” the words are more animalistic in nature, Theo’s anger rising.

“Theo, I’m-”

The Alpha gets up, “Josh, help him,” he commands, seeing Tracy isn’t going anywhere with the hold Hayden has on her hair.

Even from the back you can see the authority in Theo’s posture. His stance is sure as he stalks towards the kanima.

Josh is at his side in an instant, “I’m so sorry, Stiles.” The raiju gently grabs his hands and takes his pain, breathing life back into Stiles’ muscles and reducing the throbbing in his head. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Stiles whispers, eyes never leaving Theo. His palms don’t even sting anymore.

“Hayden,” Theo nods his head in their direction.

“But-” she looks unsure.

“Aww, don’t worry,” the Alpha coos, “Tracy’s not going anywhere.” His voice turns cold, “are you?” The kanima shakes her head no, so Hayden joins Stiles’ side, helping Josh get him to his aching feet. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Theo, I’m sorry,” Tracy whimpers, curling her shoulders to appear small. “I- I don’t- I’m sorry. I love you and I-”

“You took him from me!” Theo shouts in a growl, “you hurt him!”

“He never tried to do anything,” the kanima babbles, “never acted like he wanted you. You deserve better-”

“I was happy just to have him around!”

Despite the scene, Stiles’ heart warms knowing that even if he’d never voiced his feelings, that him simply being in the pack was enough for the Alpha.

“I’m sorry,” Tracy cries. “I didn’t know what else to do. You don’t notice m-me. I’m sorry, p-please show mercy, Theo,” she begs.

“You might not want to watch this,” Hayden says under her breath, trying to turn Stiles away.

“No,” Stiles fights her hold, eyes locked on the scene. He won’t look away.

“Theo, please,” she sniffles, the Alpha all of two inches away now.

“No,” Theo snarls, claws sinking into the kanima’s throat. “You don’t deserve mercy,” he says, ripping out her jugular and tossing it aside. Theo’s in front of him before her body hits the floor. “Let’s get you home, Angel. Mason and Corey are making your favorite. Your dad should be there soon too.”

“I missed you so much,” Stiles admits, falling into the Alpha’s chest.

“I missed you too, Angel,” Theo cups his cheeks to kiss his forehead. “I missed you too.”

Stiles chokes up a bit, leaning in to properly kiss Theo for himself. Feeling safe for the first time in a long time simply by being in Theo’s arms.

#teen wolf #steo #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #theo x stiles #stiles x theo #ao3 fic #Match Writes #bad things happen bingo

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triplexdoublex · 2 years

Text

Baby Makes Four

Pairings: Colson x Reader x Rook ( poly)

Warnings/tags: fluff, pregnancy, talk of possible abortion, pelvic exam, labor complications, emergency C-section

A/N: This is an AU they are not famous but I’m still using the nickname Rook. and Colson doesn’t have Casie. Admittedly not my best writing but I’m trying to get back into it. Enjoy!

You knew you should have been more careful; should have insisted on them wearing condoms, or got yourself on some type of birth control, especially given the uniqueness of your relationship. Polyamory isn’t for everybody but it was perfect for you, Colson and Rook. But now here you were five days late staring at a pink plus sign without the slightest clue to which one of them was the father. You weren’t sure how they were going to take the news; to be honest you weren’t exactly sure how you felt about it either. Part of you was thrilled, you always knew you wanted to be a mom one day, but the other part of you was scared to death; you didn’t know if you were ready for the responsibility quite yet. But one thing you knew for sure was you wanted the three of you to make the decision about what the future held for the pregnancy together.

**********

“ Hey.. uh I need to talk to you boys about something,” you started nervously over breakfast.

“Of course , what is it, baby? Colson responded followed by Rook, “Everything okay?”

“I’m not sure how to start or even how I feel about this yet to be completely honest, so I’m just gonna come out and say it …. “I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, shit I’m gonna be a dad! Colson exclaimed in shock but his expression was unreadable.

“Or… I’m gonna be a dad?” Rook looked to Colson with the same unclear expression.

“Oh fuck! Which one of us is the Dad?” Colson questioned.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” You raised your hands up in a shrug only to let them fall back down on the table in defeat.

“But there’s like tests and shit that can tell who’s the dad right?” Colson asked. “Like before it’s born or do we have to wait until after?”

“Please—!” You shouted, holding up your hand for him to stop. You were getting overwhelmed by all the questions, when the biggest question of all hadn’t even been decided .. “I’m not even sure anyones gonna be a dad!” You left it at that, assuming they would figure out what you were trying to say.

“Ohh… you’re getting rid of it? I- I just assumed we were keeping it.” Colson said, probably too nonchalantly.

“Jesus Christ, Colson! It’s a baby not a stray cat! Do you have to be so blunt about it. Fuck!” You slapped your hand over your eyes like just maybe your fingers could dam the river of tears that started to flow.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry baby,” Colson got up from his seat to embrace you. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that, I’m just as scared and nervous as you,” he kissed the top of your head. “But I know whatever decision you make will be the right one for us, right Rookie?” Colson looked to Rook trying to get something out of him — anything, he’d been far too quiet about the whole thing.

“Of course,” Rook got up and joined Colson in hugging you. “I’m sorry, I think I’m still in shock,” he excused his lack of engagement in the news. “I’ll one hundred percent support whatever you decide but honestly— I wouldn’t mind having a baby around here.”

“Really? … Seriously? … You mean that?” You asked, each individual question punctuated with a sniffle as you looked up at a tear- distorted view of Rook, your whole demeanor shifting.

“Really. But listen.. your only what—a couple weeks? This doesn’t have to be decided right now, or even overnight. What do you say we give it a weeks time, let it really sink in and give it some more thought?” Rook suggested.

“You’re right,” you started wiping at your eyes, still sniffing. “Okay, let’s do that”

****************

In a weeks time the amount of touches, kisses and overall attention your still unchanged belly was getting made the decision quite obvious— the baby was here to stay.

Panic transitioned into excitement as the three of you grew accustomed to the idea of being parents; it has been decided that neither man would find out the true paternity and that you would raise the baby as a family of four — 3 parents, 1 child. Colson would be Dad and Rook, Pops— just as he referred to his own dad.

It surprised you how quickly they both fell into the fatherly role. Colson’s gave up smoking cigarettes because you couldn’t stomach the smell. Rook asked his chef friend Steve to teach him to cook so he could assist with dinner when you weren’t feeling up to it, or just needed to get off your feet for a while— and you were so thankful for it because you both know Colson’s couldn’t so much as fry an egg . They also both took turns reading what piece of fruit the baby was the size of each week from your pregnancy app, and accompanying you to doctors appointments — until you banned Colson anyways.

“Well, it’s official— Colson’s only allowed at ultrasound appointments from now on, since he has the mind of a teenage boy and can’t handle being in the exam room.” You announced to Rook as you and Colson entered the house the three of you share, after attending his first prenatal exam with you.

“You didn’t!?” Rook gave Colson a knowing, and disapproving look.

“Bro, they had her legs all spread n’ shit and fingers in her, I couldn’t help it!” Colson tried to defend himself.

“It’s just a medical procedure you horndog!” Rook scolded.

“Yeah, we’ll tell that to my dick!!!

***

He wasn’t much more behaved at your ultrasound appointment either, loudly announcing “Oh that’s definitely MY son!” when the ultrasound tech was easily able to tell you were having a boy at your twenty week anatomy scan.

“You’ll have to excuse him, he didn’t come with a filter” Rook said, nudging colson with a sharp elbow. “Which he better fix before our baby gets here!”

“Hey, better a dad with no filter than no dad at all,” the ultrasound tech joked. “You wouldn’t believe how many moms I see in here having to go through pregnancy and motherhood completely alone.But you and this little guy —” she spoke looking towards you as she moved the cool, slippery wand over your plump belly. “— seem to be blessed with two dads in the picture?” She said with a hint of question in her voice. “Sorry if I’m being nosey.”

“No worries, you’re fine” you smiled before answering. “Yeah, we have a unique relationship; it’s not exactly your traditional family. And to be completely honest we’re not sure which one of them is the dad and we don’t plan to find out either, but these two definitely have fun teasing each other about who’s baby it is. You should have seen this one—” you thumbed over to Rook. “—gloating when I started craving sushi; HIS favorite food. He insisted it was the baby who actually wanted it and therefore meant the baby was his. And of course I got all hormonal and cried when I found out I couldn’t actually eat sushi.”

“Screw traditional! You guys are happy and this baby is healthy and loved and that’s all that matters.” The tech said , as she removed the lubricating gel from your belly with a towel. “All set”

*******

The rest of the pregnancy went by smoothly— sure you were tired and grew increasingly more uncomfortable with each passing day as the pregnancy continued to flourish and your belly expanded but it was so worth it. You couldn’t wait to meet your little bundle of joy and the boys were equally as excited. They enjoyed assembling the nursery together; Rook handled decorating and hanging up clothes , while Colson configured and set up the crib and furniture with minimal swearing. In fact, Colson had grown and matured a lot in the last few months. He loved their little boy already and he wanted to be the best father he possibly could. He didn’t have the best role model as a child and he would be damned if he was gonna let history repeat itself.

Everything was looking up and going according to plan … until it wasn’t.

“Baby’s heart rates dropping!” The doctor announced while you were in labor. “Prep the O.R. STAT! We’ve got a cord compression on our hands.”

“Boys, I’m gonna need you to step out of the way and return to the waiting room. We’re taking her for an emergency C-section. Someone will be out to update you both as soon as possible.” A nurse stated as she shuffled through the chaos of getting you ready for transport.

“No way, we’re staying by her side the whole time.” Colson turned to follow your gurney down the hallway, with Rook close behind.

“I’m sorry boys, that’s not possible, not for an emergency C- section.” The nurse informed them, her body blocking their path. “Now please go to the waiting room.”

“Please, you have to let us go with her!” Colson begged, tears streaming down his face. “Y/N!!” He cried out reaching for you as you were wheeled around the corner.

“Colson, C’mon man,” a teary-eyed Rook placed a comforting and guiding hand up onto Colson’s chest. “Let’s go.”

Colson knew he could have easily pushed past that nurse and ran after you, and to be honest the old Colson —the Colson from a few months ago— would’ve done just that. But he realized now that all that was gonna do was get him kicked out of the hospital and make things more difficult for you, and that’s the last thing you needed right now , so he reluctantly followed Rook into the waiting area where they sat with interlocked hands, wet eyes, worried faces, and trembling knees until the doctor arrived. The few seconds it took the doctor to pull down his mask to speak seemed like an eternity to the boys; the state of you and their baby feeling like the fate of Schrödinger's cat.

“Mom and baby are doing well, they’re in the recovery room now. I’ll take you to go see them.”

“Oh thank Fuck!” Rook exhaled like he’s been holding his breath the whole time they were in the waiting room. And the two boys shared a grateful hug before following the doctor.

“Hey guys,” you smiled, happy to finally see them again. “Meet your son,” you handed the baby to Rook as he was closer to the edge of your bed.

“Hi, little guy—“

“Oh shit —shoot, sorry.” Colson interrupted, “I just realized we haven’t picked a name yet.”

“Actually, I hope you guys don’t mind but … before they put me under I told a nurse if anything happened to me or him —” your voice cracked. “— that I wanted him to be named CJ, after his dads.”

“CJ?” Colson questioned , the initials not quite clicking at the moment.

“Yeah CJ… Colson John.” You clarified, making both boys' eyes sparkle with happy tears.

“Yeah, that’s right buddy you got two dads, and I know one day when you’re older, you’ll probably look or act more like one of us than the other and it will be more obvious but I want you to know that even if you grow up to be 6’4, blonde, with a temper— I’ll always love you as my own,” Rook gave a small chuckle before handing the baby over to Colson.

“Same here, little man. You’ll always be mine even if one day you’re a 5’9” shrimp, who makes poor hair choices.” Colson teased.

#machine gun kelly #colson baker #mgk #rook cappelletty x reader #colson baker fanfic #mgk fanfic #machine gun kelly fanfic #jp rook cappelletty #jp cappelletty

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cyphertripping · 2 years

Note

hello! may i request a fade x fem reader where the reader is a civilian and gets captured by either kingdom or mirror agents? thank you!

so sorry this took so long! i hope you like how this turned out :3

Missing (Fade x f!reader)

Word Count: 1300+

This cannot be happening.

Fade feels her vision dimming, focusing to a point while her mind is already racing.

“What?” she finds herself saying, mind unable to articulate something clearer in a language that is not her own.

“I— I’m so sorry. Pasensiya na (sorry). We were just out shopping… I— I didn’t think— I wasn’t fast enough,” Neon wails, wringing her hands together. The younger agent is clearly a mess, Fade doesn’t need her abilities to feel the fear and guilt roiling off her. Speed was supposed to be her thing— Fade knows the feeling of helplessness.

She’s already lost one person— she can’t lose you too.

Sighing heavily, Fade gently touches Neon’s arm. “It’s not your fault. Did you see who it was?”

Neon’s face pales at the question. “Ah, it was… it was you. Or well, other you. I don’t know how she found us…”

At this point, Fade has already drowned her out, thinking. It’s easy enough to think how her other half found them— she’d already hunted down the Valorant Protocol in this world, what’s to say omega her didn’t have the same skills?

No matter. She knew her own habits, her own abilities. She would find you. The dread that had filled her veins faded, rejuvenated by a new feeling of purpose.

It takes two whole sleepless days to track you down. Security camera footage showed the two of you. You and… Fade’s blood turns to ice. It’s the other her. The two of you had headed to a warehouse— recon found that it hadn’t been used for ages. Just decrepit buildings long abandoned from the depression following first light.

Sova helps her scout the place out. Fade hadn’t wanted to drag anyone else in and, besides, it looked like mirror her had been working alone.

Sova claps her on the shoulder. “Good hunt,” he nods solemnly. Coming from him, it means a lot. Fade smiles roughly. Part of her just feels like crying— it feels like forever since you’d been taken but she can’t give out yet.

She smoothly jumps down the rooftop they’d watched the warehouse from and makes her way to the back entrance.

Fade reaches into herself, into the fear and worries that have been eating at her for the past few days, and pulls the energy into reaching into the eldritch plane. Darkness curls around her fingers and she sends it out, the smoky form of a prowler scouting the warehouse.

She senses you, but nothing else. Suspicious, but there’s nothing more to do. She readies her gun and heads it.

There you are— her partner. You’re tied up, head leaned forward in a position that suggests uncomfortable sleep. Guilt wrenches Fade’s gut— she’d never wanted to bring you into this. Her nightmares were bad enough, this waking world of violence… she couldn’t bear it if she lost you to it.

Then, she hears a single step behind her.

Fade lifts her gun and whips around in an instant. “Tell me one reason I shouldn’t put this bullet in your head.”

Mirror Fade looks at her up and down, evaluating. Her hands raise in surrender.

“Because I’m you,” she says coolly.

Fade laughs, it’s more a scoff than a laugh. “And why should that matter to me? Shit, I should just shoot you dead here and leave.”

“It matters because you know how we think. They… they took her away from me,” mirror Fade’s voice finally cracks on that.

Fade freezes. So the other her had had you too… for a moment she gets lost in the possibilities. Who had killed you? Kingdom? Someone else? Could it happen in her world too?

She shakes herself out of the thoughts. It hasn’t come to that yet— you’re still here, right in front of her. She stares at herself. “I know you. I know you’ll stop at nothing to get back who you’ve lost.”

Mirror Fade’s expression crumples. “I can’t face it again. Let me have her.” Fade realizes she isn’t even obviously armed. Her chest aches— she knows the pain. If not for the agony of losing you once, she might’ve been pursuaded.

Fade frowns. “If I even were to consider your request— it isn’t up to me, is it?” She nods to your unconscious form. “It’s up to her.”

Mirror her can’t seem to argue with that. She steps forward and shakes your shoulder, more gently than Fade would think. But maybe she’s wrong to think so— after all, she loves you too. Loved a version of you.

You wake with a groan, blinking blearily. You stare up at the two Fades, confusion covering your face. There’s… two Fades? Two identical concerned brows furrowed in that way you secretly love.

“Güzelim (beautiful),” one says to you, her fingers ghosting across your cheek. You instinctively lean in but then you see the redness on her knuckles. The hand she’d punched Neon with when she’d snuck up on the two of you. You flinch back and you recognize the look of disappointment in her eyes, even if it’s not your Fade.

“Love,” your Fade says. She seems to struggle. “I… I'm so glad to see you. I know it’s a lot but… I want you to decide.”

You shake a bit. “Decide what?”

Fade looks pained. “If you want to come with me… or her.” She nods to the other, mirror Fade. “She’s been through a lot. She lost… you. In her world. It’s your choice though.”

You feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Why was Fade asking this? As though you’d choose anything else— you’d just been kidnapped and now she was asking if you’d leave this planet and everything you knew? For what? A favor? All you wanted to do at this point was take a long hot bath and sleep, preferably with Fade wrapped around you. Unless she secretly wanted you to say yes… the thought itself caused more tears to well up and Fade immediately noticed.

“I— do you want me to leave?” you choke out.

Her eyes instantly soften. “Oh, oh no, aşkım (love), I would never. I— I just didn’t want to decide for you. It didn’t seem right,” she says, softly.

The mirror Fade watches this exchange in silence, then finally utters a quiet sigh. She shakes her head. “I can’t do this. I’m… I’m sorry I put you through this.” She pulls out a knife and you automatically flinch, but she kneels down to cut your bindings. You hadn’t realized how the contact points had gone numb and they tingle as blood flows back in.

You realize tears are welling up in her eyes, her beautiful mismatched eyes which you always loved in your Fade. She puts the knife away and steps back.

She bows her head, partially in shame. “Allah bir yastikta kocatsin (may god let you grow old together).” She finally turns her back and walks away, seeming to melt into the darkness. Your Fade immediately seems to relax and helps you up, pulling you into a hug.

“Oh, I’m so sorry this happened, you’re safe now. You’re safe,” she repeats, pulling you into a tight hug.

You finally start shaking as the adrenaline rushes in. Maybe you hadn’t been in any real danger, seeing now what mirror Fade’s motivation had been but it was still terrifying. You hadn’t known what was going to happen to you and the fear had only grown the longer Fade hadn’t found you. Fade only holds you tighter.

“You’re safe now. I love you,” she murmurs.

Finally, she lets go and looks at you. The both of you are a bit watery eyed and she tenderly holds your face. The kiss is soft and gentle, and it grounds you. You finally feel the trembling begin to leave you.

“You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you again,” Fade repeats, studying your face as thought it was new to her. A hardness enters her gaze and you’re glad it’s not aimed at you. You believe her.

#fade x reader #fade x reader fic #x f reader #valorant x reader #valorant x reader fic #valorant x reader request #reader insert #reader fic #valorant headcanons #fade valorant fic #valorant fic

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nuatthebeach · 2 years

Note

Please share your take 2,4, 14 otp ask

2. What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?

So likely scenario is Harry getting woken up, though I suppose this is more so a headcanon from hinny fandom and it’s really possible that Ginny could be having more nightmares instead? After all, we only get Harry’s perspective of his numerous nightmares from canon and not Ginny’s.

So I’ll answer both. If Harry gets a nightmare, Ginny is, like, dead asleep (physical training is no joke and athletes need a lot of rest) and likely won’t respond unless he really shakes up the bed or outright calls for her. The first few times he slept next to her, he would never wake her up intentionally until one night Ginny tells him that he absolutely should because “if you’re having a nightmare, then we’re both having one. So wake me up next time, you prat.” Then he starts doing that. She’ll hug him, kiss his scar (ty @blvnk-art for forever cementing that headcanon into our brains), and sometimes they’ll even make love because she knows they both need it. Also, if he really, really needs to up his mood, she’ll start cracking jokes and teasing him or she’ll whip out the remote for the old Muggle television that Dudley passed on to them and they’ll watch Ferris Bueller or Back to the Future or some other goofy shit that they both crack up at 3 in the morning.

Harry falls asleep in her arms for each of these scenarios, though.

If Ginny gets a nightmare, Harry will do the same strategies of physical comfort listed above, but he’ll also suggest going out for an early morning flight on their broomsticks (they continue to do this even after they have kids and tbh even when they’re gray and old and can barely hold themselves up lmfao because they’re just that cool). Or, if the weather isn’t normal, then he’ll suggest creative drawing (which neither are good at but it’s hilarious when they mess up and fail “why did you make your fingers look like large sausages, Ginny?” “huh I must have been imagining your large sausage.” “…it’s too early for you to seduce me.” “It’s working though isn’t it?” “…No comment.”) Or, my personal favorite, Harry will suggest that they do some creative journaling. Half of the time, she writes about her nightmares and how they make her feel and what practicing mindfulness feels to her and how this should feel like talking to Riddle but it really doesn’t because she’s healing now. She’ll write it beautifully too, sometimes in essay, sometimes in prose, sometimes in poetry.

The other half of the time, she writes pure Hinny smut and Harry can’t help but look over at her paper when he sees she’s smirking and then he absolutely cracks up and flushes when he reads words like gasp, thrust, beg, nip, stroke, and patience. (“Well, I can’t exactly post this in the Daily Prophet, I need an outlet somewhere.” “Then they really wouldn’t stop talking about my large sausage.” “Touché, Potter.”)

4. Which one is more protective? Who needs to be ‘protected’?

Both are equally as protective over the other (e.g. Harry adamantly telling Ginny to stay in the RoR for her safety; Ginny saying “Leave him alone, he didn’t want all that” or “yeah, Zabini, you’re so talented…at posing”).

Neither actually need “protecting.”

14. How do their personalities compliment each other? How do they clash?

I’ll answer the clash first ‘cause it’s a bit more obvious: they’re both impulsive, angry, stubborn, passionate, scary individuals. You know the phrase “you shouldn’t fight fire with fire”? Well, call these two an Australian fire in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic because Harry and Ginny are as fiery as it gets.

In fact, they’re so similar that on the very, very surface level, I’ve even heard arguments that they are not good for each other because of how much they clash.

So…why are they?

Because they understand each other better than anyone. Because they de-escalate each other. She is his greatest source, his light in the darkest of times, his last thought. He is her safety comfort, her biggest supporter and defender, her most intimate lover.

See the following for evidence…

“She looked alarmed and angry […] ‘It’s nothing, he said reassuringly, lowering his voice.’” Look at the way they were both fiery and upset (for different reasons ofc) but then look at the way he de-escalated it. Doesn’t look overly clashy or toxic to me.

On Ginny’s end, everyone mentions the Lucky You scene, so I’ll be a bit more creative…

“‘Don’t be stupid, we can’t all go!’ Harry said angrily […] ‘More of them will come’ said Ginny confidently ‘…because in case you hadn’t noticed, you and Hermione are both covered in blood and we know Hagrid lures thestrals with raw meat, so that’s probably why these two turned up in the first place…’” Just look at how Ginny - a girl absolutely notorious for being the epitome of heat and passion - calmly rationalizes to Harry in this. And notice how a few chapters later, she successfully manages to tag along with Harry despite him being stubborn about her (and Luna and Neville) staying.

In fact, I was so impressed with this scene that it, uh, kinda inspired me to make this meme.

Thanks for the ask!

#hinny #harry x ginny #thanks for the ask!#otp asks #otp: better than firewhiskey

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bubbleey · 2 years

Text

No Game, No Life| JJK | Four

Pairing: Nerd!Jungkook x Fuck girlish?Female Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, and fluff; Slow burn; Strangers to Lovers; College!AU

Rating: +18!!!!! Minors please DNI

Word Count: 3.8K

Summary: Your idiot of a best friend, Kim Taehyung, dares you to get into the resident nerd’s pants, but maybe you’re just as stupid for accepting.

Warnings for this chapter: swearing, assertive reader and inexperienced Kook, this chapter is basically pure smut, tiny bit of sad feelings, Kook is a fast learner, begging, whiny Kook, oral(m. and f. receiving), slight facefucking, I think that’s it?

Taglist: send an ask/message or comment

Notes: Sorry for the delays once again, I don’t know why but this one took me longer to write than usual. I suggest reading Jungkook’s POV for last chapter for context. Let me know what you think of the new chapter!

previous || next

~~~~~~~~

“Look,”

You shift your body as much as you can, cramped in the back seat of the car. Jungkook avoids your stare, gazing out the window.

“I think we should talk about you know…”

Sparing a glance to the front, wary of the driver listening in. He most definitely isn't, probably used to worse conversations on a trip back from the club. Normally you’d save a talk like this for a more private setting but you can’t sit in this car for the next 20 minutes in utter silence without, quite frankly, bursting into flames.

Jungkook seems intent on ignoring you, in what you assume to be embarrassment caused by the earlier events. You decide to just keep going slightly getting agitated at his childish behavior.

“Listen, things like that happen. You don’t have to be embarrassed, if anything I should be.”

Expecting his continued silence, you attempt to continue trying to resolve the issue. You still have the project to work on and it would only make it more difficult if your partner won’t even talk to you. The thought of the bet also lingers in the back of your mind, something you’ll deal with another day.

What you don’t expect is a scoff to leave his mouth. Low enough for you to have missed it if you weren’t so attentive to his reactions. You cock an eyebrow, confused at the action. What the hell could he possibly be scoffing at right now?

“Did I say something to offend you?”

Tone sharp, the fact that that was the first sound he'd made since you started talking has you even more on edge. You try not to let your annoyance show too much, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.

You wait for him to answer, taking note of how his face mirrors agitation as his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. He finally turns his head to face you, a cold stare set on you. For the first time since you’ve met him you feel small in his presence.

Yeah, you’re aware of how fucking built the man is but his demeanor has always balanced it out. But now there’s no hint of the gentle and kind Jungkook that you’ve grown comfortable with to weigh out how easily he could overpower you. It makes you anxious for a second, worried that you’ve actually upset him.

“I’m a grown man Noona, stop treating me like I’m fragile.”

His tone is clipped and cold, sending a chill through you. The statement shocks you, is that really how he’s been feeling? Yeah, you normally take the lead in the conversations, and sure, you’ll admit that you find yourself worrying for him at times. But- shit, you have been treating him like he’s fragile.

But, it annoys you nonetheless when he doesn’t really give much of a choice. For a “grown man” he seems rather content with ignoring problems until sooner or later surface. This thought causes you to chuckle bitterly, wondering how your night went so awry.

The remainder of the car ride is spent in silence, the once heated tension now simmered into a coldness that leaves your mood dampened. You’ve never been one for arguments, always trying to face the problem head-on rather than leaving it to bubble under the surface. But, Jungkook’s previous outburst has you wanting to give him the space he needs.

As you approach your apartment complex you spare a glance at Jungkook, the small sliver of hope that he may have warmed up dissipating at the sight of his cold demeanor still intact. Sighing, in defeat, you exit the car as it stops emotionally and physically exhausted.

You round the car headed towards your building, but you’re confused by the sound of the car door slamming once again in your wake. You don’t let it stop you, already aware of the owner of the shoes currently following you. It continues as you enter the lobby and as you enter the elevator.

Maybe it’s the pettiness in you or the fact that you genuinely are too tired to fight right now but you ride the elevator in silence. If he wants to talk about what transpired the floor is all his.

You don’t spare him any glances, exiting the elevator at the ding. If you had spared him a glance you’d see that he’s softened a bit, slightly on guard still.

“Do you mind if I come in?”

Wordlessly, you open your door, and the sound of your keys jingling fills the silence. You head towards the kitchen preparing two glasses of water, tapped out on any more drinking for the night.

Jungkook stands in the entryway not sure if should sit or not, but the sight of you making your way to the couch has him following in pursuit. The two of you are posted on opposite sides of the couch, not wanting to overstep any more boundaries.

You hand him a glass of water, giving him an expectant look. He takes the glass nodding in acknowledgment and takes a sip before proceeding.

“I’m sorry for the way I reacted earlier, you were being considerate and I shouldn’t have said that.”

His apology has you relieved, you can’t lie and say that you weren’t worried this conversation would go in an uglier direction. The fact that Jungkook asserted the conversation has you a bit proud of him, but you won’t reveal that.

“I forgive you”, you offer him a small smile to solidify that you really do appreciate his apology. He returns the smile, tension releasing from his face at your forgiveness.

“I should also apologize-”

“No, Noona you shouldn’t have to apologize for just being considerate of my feelings.”

“Thanks, Jungkook, I appreciate it but that’s not was I was going to apologize for.”

He’s confused, seemingly forgotten about the root of this entire argument. You refuse to let it go unaddressed, wanting to get it out of the way lest it gnaws at you.

“I was going to apologize for um”, not exactly sure how to word it you take a sip of your water trying to think of an appropriate way to.

“What you had to hear earlier.”

The awkwardness returns, as you assess Jungkook’s reactions. You sense a noticeable shift in his energy as his eyes flicker from you to the apparently interesting glass of water. You take note of the way his tongue pokes out to wet his lips, in what you assume to be a nervous habit.

“It wasn’t appropriate for that kind of setting and I’m sorry you were privy to it.”

Now it’s your turn to be anxious, nervously gnawing on your lip in fear that you’ve made him uncomfortable. Sparing him another glance, he’s still in his previous state but his face has taken a hazy look. You wonder what’s going on inside his head.

“Kook,”

His eyes meet yours at the murmur of his name, allowing you to see the way his eyes have darkened and the soft scrunch of his eyebrows. The small pout that accompanies his expression, has him looking endearing. The familiar flutter in your stomach appears but it is not to be addressed right now.

“Do you like to be treated like that Noona?”

You’re stunned for a second, not expecting him to ask such a thing. But, his question is laced with genuine confusion, trying to gauge if that’s really what you enjoy. If it weren’t for the soft way he asked you’d mistake the question for judging but you interpret it as a curiosity.

“Do you mean like…”, you trail off wanting to be clear about what specific treatment he means. You vividly remember what played out with you and Hoseok but that could mean a lot of things.

“I mean, you always seem to be the one that takes the lead so I kind of just assumed…”, he trails off as well but you catch his drift. Ah, so he thought you were more dominant in the bedroom. Well, he’s exactly wrong but you also enjoy being on the receiving end at times, being able to just let go. Hoseok provided you that perfect outlet, being someone that you could trust sexually.

Your past relationships always ended differently but at the root of their impending doom was always the imbalance. Always one person putting more in and that person always happened to be you.

“Yeah I guess that’s true”, you chuckle setting down the glass of water on the coffee table.

“But, sometimes it’s nice to be the one that’s taken care of.”

If Jungkook catches the hint of sadness that laces your tone he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he mirrors your action putting his glass down, and turning his body to face you on the couch.

“Can I try something Noona?”

Shooting him a quizzed look, your heart thumps just a little faster at the question. Jungkook keeps his gaze on you, now unwavering as he waits for your response. You gesture for him to continue, shrugging your shoulders.

“I think I want to start my next lesson if that’s alright with you?”

This is the first time he’s initiated something of this nature and it has you excited. You answer his question with a nod, the green light signaling him to close the distance on the couch as he slides over. The two of you are face to face as you search Jungkook’s face for any sign he might change his mind but he seems determined. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to your lips before landing back on yours.

“Is it alright if I touch you?”

Nodding once again, your eyes catch the way his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. Unlike Jungkook you shamelessly stare until he speaks up.

“Words Noona”, he says stealing the words you used on him just the other day. This causes you to let out a yes, greenlighting him to carry on. You’re not sure what he has planned for “his next lesson” but you couldn’t give two flying fucks if it meant he was going to touch you.

He lifts his hand hesitantly before placing it softly on your cheek. It’s been a while since someone’s touched you so tenderly and it brings a flush to your cheeks at the thought. It’s not long before Jungkook leans in, lips connecting with yours in a soft kiss. His lips are soft, slowly moving against yours as the two of you explore the new territory.

You let Jungkook take the lead patiently waiting for him to progress. The kiss gradually speeds up and it’s not long before his tongue caresses your bottom lip, seeking entrance which you happily grant. You moan at the feeling of his tongue exploring your mouth.

Your hand finds its way up to his neck pulling him closer to you until you’re forced to lean your back against the armrest. The change in angle has his arm readjusting itself so that he can place his hand on your waist, catching himself from putting crushing you with his weight.

He takes you by surprise once again tonight, causing you to gasp he slides his hand to your thigh dragging the two of you down on the couch so that he can hover over you. Despite the proximity, you notice that he is still a bit hesitant as he maintains a space between your body. You break away from the kiss, causing his eyes to slowly open, meeting yours in confusion.

“You can touch me, Kook, it’s ok.”

You give him a reassuring smile hoping that he can see that you really did mean it. He nods, bringing his lips back down to yours now with a renewed vigor. You’re enraptured in the kiss, moaning in surprise when his hips close that gap of distance to slowly roll against you.

The position has your skirt slightly hiked up, causing the contact to directly hit your clit. You know that you must be incredibly wet already and the friction feels so good. You can feel how hard he is as he continues to roll his hips into yours, letting out small moans as he does. The wetness from your core causes a wet patch to form on his jeans, the dampness causing him to break away from the kiss to peer down.

He groans at the sight of you so hot and bothered just for him and it has him sliding down on the couch, face level with your cunt. You feel no shame as you clench at the sight, excited by the prospect of having your third orgasm of the night. The look on Jungkook’s face does nothing to soothe your need, his hair covering his eyes before looking back up to your face.

The stark contrast from the sweet Jungkook that you know to the man that looks like he’ll eat you alive has you whining.

“Kook,”

Desperately you roll your hips in need just to show him how much you crave him. Your eyes flutter shut, head falling back on the couch as he licks a long stripe up your cunt before taking your clit into his mouth. His pace is agonizingly slow as he suckles and licks your clit. His eyes remain on yours, concentrating to see what you like.

Once he’s figured it out he speeds up causing you to moan unabashedly. Your hand finds its way to his hair attempting to bring him impossibly closer. You find yourself getting close, grinding your hips into his face.

Jungkook notices the signs, remembering how you looked as you approached your orgasm on your own, and pulls away to prevent it. You whine at the loss before moaning again when his finger enters you, almost missing the murmur that he lets out. You have half a mind to hum in question, meeting his fingers halfway with your hips.

“I said beg Noona.”

The low command causes you to open your eyes to look down in time with his mouth reconnecting to your clit as his fingers thrust into you at a brutal pace.

“Oh fuck,”

That is all you’re capable of coherently saying right now, but your orgasm approaches once again at record speed as he enters another one of his fingers that you love so much. You’ll be damned if another orgasm is ripped away from you.

“Kook please, let me cum.”

You manage to whine pathetically hoping that it’s enough for him. It is as he somehow doubles his pace, fingers angling themselves to find your sweet spot. The cry of his name that you let out when he does has him knowing that he must be something right. So he decides to abuse that spot, moaning into you as you tug on his hair from the repeated action.

You’re soaked and the sound of his fingers sliding in and out of you has you clenching around him. The stimulation combined with the way he looks and sounds between your legs has you cumming, wetness coating the bottom half of his face. You come in shutters, attempting to close your legs but his hand forces your legs to stay open as he cleans you up until your whining in overstimulation.

Shutting your eyes, your head thumps back against the couch cushion as you attempt to slow your breathing. Jungkook readjusts so that he’s sitting on his knees on the couch, silently observing you. It seems the Jungkook that you have come to know has returned as he now seems uncertain.

“Did I do good Noona?”

You’re eyes open at the question as you push yourself up on your elbows to look at the boy. At that, you laugh because did he really just ask you that?

“Jungkook, that was fucking amazing.”

He sighs in relief at the praise, giving you his infamous bunny smile. You’re distracted by his charm before remembering how hard you felt he was earlier and it has your eyes trailing down to the still very hard bulge that he’s sporting. His eyes notice, following your line of sight before quickly adjusting himself to be seated on the couch, redness tinting his face.

“You know I can help you if you want.”

Is all you say, eyes flicking back up to meet his to see how they widen at the prospect. The man was just knuckles deep in your pussy and has the audacity to get flustered, cute.

“You don’t have-”, you cut him off already knowing how that sentence will end.

“I don't, but I want to. If you’ll let me.”

Your words seem to ease his mind as he let’s out a meek “ok”. You lean over to place a reassuring peck on his lips, noting the way his lips chase after yours when it ends too quickly.

You take position on the floor, spreading his knees to create space for yourself. Tapping the side of his hip, you signal for him to lift his hips as you unbutton his pants and shimmy them down his legs alongside his boxers. You clench at the view of his cock, probably the biggest you’ve seen. The image of him gagging you on it has another wave of arousal leaking out of you.

Taking him into your hand, you lean forward as you take the weeping cockhead into your mouth. He moans deliciously as your wet, warm mouth envelopes him as you suckle him. He’s imagined this so many times and now that he’s able to experience the sensation of you sucking him it has him seeing stars.

You look up to see his face, eyes half shut in pleasure. You release him from your mouth to lick a stripe from the tip to the base of his cock, wetting it enough to slide your hand up and down. You bring your mouth back down to lick around his cockhead, enveloping it once again.

You slowly work yourself up to a point where your mouth is taking more of him into your mouth than your hand is. He reaches the back of your throat, the sensation causing his hips to involuntarily lift. The action causes you to gag at the unexpected intrusion but you’re quick to recover as you breathe through your nose.

Jungkook’s eyes quickly open at the sound, worried that he’s hurt you.

“Sorry Noona”, he rushes out. But, you signal to him that it’s ok by humming around him and swallowing for extra measure. Moans quickly escape his mouth, head falling back against the backrest. He’s already so close and you can tell from the way his abdomen is starting to clench.

Your hand makes its way to his thigh, patting it to redirect his attention to you. You release his cock from your mouth, keeping up your pace with your hand.

“Fuck my mouth, please.”

Anticipating his hesitation you threw in a please for good measure and that seems to be his undoing. He whines when you resume your earlier actions, bobbing your head up and down his length. You moan as he starts to slowly and shallowly fuck his hips up into your mouth. Giving him extra encouragement to use you, you pace your breathing before quickly lowering your head all the way down on his cock. The sudden action causes his hips to buck up as his hand cups the back of your head, hips stuttering as he announces his impending orgasm.

A string of expletives leaves his mouth as his hips slow down as you swallow everything he gives you. You maintain eye contact as you do so before releasing his softening length from your mouth. You rest your cheek on his thigh attempting to calm down as his head flops back.

“That was,”

“Yeah.”

The both of you take a moment to catch your breath once again. Once you’re brought back down enough to be aware of the blooming ache in your knees, you take that as your warning to stand. You readjust your skirt to properly cover your bottom half although he’s already seen you in all of your glory twice now.

You observe Jungkook as he remains seated, you’d think he fell asleep if it weren’t for the way his chest quickly rose and fell. Checking the clock on the far side of the room you realize that it is well past a reasonable time to travel and you’d feel like an asshole if you made him call ride home this late.

“You can sleep here if you want, it’s really late and I’d feel shitty if I made you call a ride home right now.”

His eyes open to meet yours as you interrupt the silence. You offer him a smile that he gladly returns before he glances at the clock to confirm your statement.

“Yeah, I guess your right.”

You busy yourself with cleaning up the glasses left on the coffee table, allowing him to re-dress himself. You return from the kitchen to find him laying on the couch.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch Kook”, you’re aware it’s not the most comfortable one in the world, and don’t want to subject him to that. You’re ready to offer him a spot on your bed, with no sexual intentions(scouts honor), but he declines already anticipating the offer.

“No, it’s ok Noona.” He reassures you with a smile before settling into the couch.

“Alright then,”

You disappear into your room, grabbing a towel and spare blankets before heading back into the living room. You also dig into your closet, searching for a pair of sweats and a shirt that you are sure Tae has left laying around.

Returning to the living room, prepared to give Jungkook his temporary stay kit and a rundown of where the bathroom is, you return a passed-out Jungkook instead. The sight of him passed out blissfully on the couch is adorable, a hint of a smile tracing your face at how he manages to still look cute when he’s sleeping.

Dropping the items on the coffee table, you leave a peck on his cheek softly wishing him goodnight. You make your way back towards the hall as you turn the living room light off reaching the threshold of your door. You clean up quickly, exhaustion seeping into you as you yearn for the comfort of your soft bedsheets.

You settle into your sheets, staring up at the ceiling as you recall the night's events. You feel giddy as you reimagine what happened within the last hour, touching your lips at the faint reminder of your shared kiss with Jungkook. Your mind travels wondering what would’ve happened if it had gone farther.

The prospect causes you to heat up for a second before your mind flashes to your bet with Tae, causing an unsettling twist in your stomach. You feel a bit guilty that the idea of having sex with him is tainted by your previous agreement. Now that you’ve gotten to know Jungkook more you find that you enjoy his presence and value him as a friend. What would Jungkook think of you if he knew?

You refuse to let your mind wander further down that path that you know will lead you to no good.

#bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts jeon jeongguk #bts jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction

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