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#So yep this is completely self indulgent
mydearesthrry · 6 months
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hayday, braids, and chocolate - h.s.
a/n: self indulgent as fuck. wrote this a couple of hours ago…hope u enjoy as always 😘
wc: 1.1k (shes a shorty!)
cw: fluff. name calling i guess? in a joking and loving way <3, one suggestive sentence ig
summary: sundays with harry <3
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A movie was playing softly in the background, Harry and Y/N talking about god knows what as he laid on his back, head resting on the armrest of the couch. Laying on her tummy against his chest, her chin was propped up on the back of her hands as her palms rested on his shirtless chest, neck craned to look at him as they spoke.
About anything, really.
“No, I honestly have t’say tha’ I disagree with you, lovie,” He looked to the ceiling in thought. “How could you possibly even bend that way? I know for a fact that y’aren’t flexible, there’s jus’ no way y’can prop up y’legs behind y’head.”
“Harry, do you actually think that all our millionaire friends stay at every house they own?”
“I actually haven’t thought about tha’, and I have a scary feelin’ that y’might be right. What d’they even put in these things? Like… what is a gusher?”
Or the occasional switch in position, Harry still on his back and Y/N now on hers with her back to his chest. Most likely for a phone break— or, more like Y/N getting stuck on TikTok and forcing Harry to watch with her.
“Jesus Christ, how much red 40 are in those fucking pickles?”
“Holy shit, tha’ dog is so fat.”
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing right now?”
“Yeah, lovie. Tha’s a guinea pig wearing a cowboy hat. With m’initials on it.”
Or… just them sitting in silence. For the most part.
“Harry…” YN sighed, clicking at her phone. Her legs were slung over Harry’s thighs, her back resting against the arm of the couch. They’d switched positions a couple of hours ago, now sitting in complete silence as they became iPad kids and tapped away on their respective devices.
“Yeah, m’love?” Harry said, setting his crops into the dirt before looking at her, his head turned and tilted slightly like a puppy.
“D’you have any corn or wheat?” She asked, needing to plant some on her HayDay farm. She knew he would know what she was talking about, seeing as HayDay had been their new obsession as of recent.
“Were you staring at my phone or summat?” He gasped with a bewildered look.
“...No?” She questioned. She laughed when he turned his phone screen to face her, HayDay opened on his phone as well. Turning his phone back to face him, a few beats passed with them sitting in silence, their noses both stuck in their phones.
“So… do you?”
“Yep, just put them on m’market.”
“And that, is why I love you.”
“Ow! Tha’ fuckin’ hurt, babe.” Harry groaned, pulling his girlfriend’s fingers from his hair.
“Oh suck it up, you big baby. You asked me to massage your scalp, you can’t get mad at me since I’m literally doing what you asked.” She grumbled, slapping Harry’s hand away and moving hers back up to his curls, twisting little strands around her pointer fingers.
“I-“ He started.
“Say something, brat. I dare you.” She said, grabbing his chin to tilt his head back.
“Nothing,” Harry muttered, moving his head back to its original position on her chest. “Thank you, baby.”
“Whatever. You’re still a brat,” She kissed his temple three times, craning her neck a bit more to kiss his lips with his assistance of craning his to meet her lips as well. “But, I love you.”
“I love you. Love of m’life, m’muse, m’soulmate,” He placed soft kisses on her lips with every other word, kissing her deeply with his last. They sat in silence for a little, soft breathing and the occasional beep from his phone sounding the room, until Harry broke the silence.
“Lovie?”
“Hm?”
“Can y’braid m’hair?”
“Are you gonna complain if I pull too hard?
“No, but I’ll probably get hard.”
A pause. “Y’know what? I’ll take it. Get me a hair tie then sit on the floor.”
“H, come here.” Y/N groaned.
“No.” Harry said, arms crossed as he turned his back to her.
“You’re such a fucking diva,” She said, kicking at the bottom of his back with a socked foot, trying to garner his attention. “Don’t know how I put up with you.”
“Oh, ‘M the diva? Y’just chewed m’out ‘cause I accidentally ate the last bit of your chocolate, even though y’told me last night that y’still had some left!” He whined, back still turned to his girlfriend.
“Oh my God. Are you serious? I said I had some in my desk at work, not at home, you fucking twat.” She said exasperatedly, still poking her toes into his back.
Reaching behind him, he grabbed her socked feet and held them tightly, making her whine and complain about the constriction. “Let my feet go!”
“No. Not until y’apologize.” He said matter of factly, turning the slightest bit so he could hold her feet in his lap, face not facing her, but instead watching the movie that was now on mute on the TV.
“Do I have to?” She asked, voice low.
“D’you want y’feet back?” He gave her the same tone of voice, not paying her any mind.
“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath, scooching forward as much as she could to rest her chin on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you for eating my chocolate.”
“Hmm, and?” He hummed, moving to rub small circles into the soles of the fuzzy fabric covered skin.
“And ‘M sorry that I wasn’t more specific. Forgive me? I love you.” She whispered, moving to rest the plush of her cheek onto his shirtless shoulder, her lips brushing against the skin when she spoke.
Sighing, he fully turned to her and raised an eyebrow, letting her feet go and placing a soft kiss onto her forehead. “Of course I forgive you, sweet girl. I’d forgive y’a million times over. I’ll buy y’new chocolate, baby. Jus’ love when y’get all soft w’me. S’ like, m’favorite thing ever. Besides you, I guess.”
He was cut off by a yelp when she used their closeness to her advantage and took a bite out of her shoulder.
“Y’fucking bitch.”
“Twat.”
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alwaysonthemend · 10 months
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Pretty Boy | JMK
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Author’s Note: Inspired by a post by @viagvf about Josh being tied up and blindfolded. Needless to say, I had to write something about it because nothing gets me like a subby Josh. This is completely self indulgent but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway. Sorry for any mistakes/typos.
Summary: You and Josh decide to switch things up in the bedroom, Josh lettting you take control instead of him. You don’t let the opportunity go to waste. 
Content Warnings: Edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, oral (m. receiving) hand jobs (m. receiving), bound hands, use of blindfolds, p in v sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, swearing (I think that’s it but let me know if I missed anything.)
Word Count: 3593 
Preview: 
“Have I ever told you how much I love your cock?”
“A few times.” He says, choking back a whine as you tease him – so close to where he wants you to be, yet still so far. 
“I should tell you more often. You’re so fucking pretty.” His cock twitches and you pause, a wicked grin spreading across your face. You look up at him and you can see that he’s blushing beneath his blindfold.
“Do you like that, Josh? Do you like being called pretty?” 
“Yes." He says quietly. "I do.” 
------------------------------------
When Josh had first suggested the idea, your interest had immediately peaked. Sex with Josh is heavenly already. He knows exactly how to get you going – turning you into a whining, begging mess with ease. Most of the time, it’s pretty intense like that. Josh loves to tease and make you completely fall apart with his fingers and tongue. Other times, it's slow and soft – Josh making sure to take the time to pamper you and treat you with the utmost care and concern. Every thrust deliberate, reaching places inside of you that no other man ever could. And other than the occasional rougher, post-argument sex, the two of you rarely mixed things up. Josh was a giving lover, and your pleasure was always to the maximum, so you’d never really felt the need to. Sure, sometimes the thought of being the one to dominate him crossed your mind, but he had never really expressed a desire for it so you left it be. You were more than content with the way things were and felt no real need to change anything. But then Josh had asked the question. 
The two of you were lying in bed, legs intertwined and Josh’s arm behind your head. 
“Y/n?” He asked, voice almost a complete whisper. 
“Ya?” 
“Would you ever want to…” He trailed off, his cheeks becoming so red you could see it even in the darkness of the room. His silence stretched on and you turned to face him. 
“Would I ever want to what?” 
He turned over to look at you, eyes shining in the darkness. He looked so unsure of himself that it was making you begin to worry something was really wrong. 
“I know that, usually, in bed I’m the one that takes the lead…” He said slowly, as if he was carefully planning out each word before he said it aloud. 
“Yeah, usually.” You said, trying to keep your voice neutral so as not to scare him. 
“Would you ever want to, maybe…you know.” His eyes were still filled with doubt, hoping that you would catch on before he had to ask it outright. 
“Switch it up, you mean?” 
He nodded. 
“Josh, I’m up for anything if it’s something that you want to try.” 
“Are you sure? We don’t have to if you don’t want-” 
You silenced him with a sweet kiss, cupping your hands around his face. 
“Josh, I want to.” You gave him a sly smile. “I’ve thought about it before actually.” You said, voice pitched lower than before. His eyes widened. 
“Really?” 
“Yep.” You said, popping the ‘p.’ “Several times, actually. What about you? Have you ever imagined it before now?” 
You heard him swallow and you watched as his throat bobbed. 
“Yes,” He finally uttered, “I have.”
You sat up, leaning on one arm to get a better look at him. He was looking up at you with those soft brown eyes of his. You knew that they were going to be the death of you one day. 
“Tell me. What have you imagined?” 
“I imagine… “ He trails off, unsure of himself again. You smile at him and nod your head for him to continue. “I imagine you tying me up.” You give him a cheshire grin. “I imagine you blindfolding me so I can’t see.” 
A heavy breath falls from your lips, your panties beginning to dampen as you picture the scene he’s describing. 
“Yeah? I bet you’d look gorgeous all tied up like that.” You lick your lips and Josh smiles, emboldened by your reaction to his words. “And what then, Josh? What happens next?” 
“You tease me,” He says, and you can feel his cock beginning to harden against your thigh where two of you are pressed together. “You don’t touch me where I need you to. You make me beg for it.” 
You sit up fully and throw your leg over his thighs, settling in to straddle his waist. You slide your hands up his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. 
“I think we can make your imagination become a little more real, Joshy.” You whisper as you lean forward to ghost your lips above his. “Would you like that?” 
“Yes.” He breathes out, voice shaky with excitement.
You lean down and connect your lips with his, plunging your tongue into his mouth. He rests his hands on your thighs, squeezing them as you explore his mouth. He’s warm and pliant underneath you, and the feeling makes your pussy throb with need. But that will have to wait. 
“Stay here.” You whisper. You rise from him and pad softly across the room to your closet. You pull two silk scarves from the back where you keep your winter clothes and bring them over and place them on the bed at Josh’s feet. His eyes track your movements, his pupils blown wide. You can see his chest heaving as he watches and he slips his hand underneath the covers and groans as he palms his cock. 
“No touching, Josh.” You say loudly, and the sentence sounds deafening in the silence of the room. 
“Yes ma’am.” 
“Good boy.” You say giving him a cheeky grin. He’s staring at you – eyes wide with lust. They look almost black in the dimness of the room and there’s a thin layer of sweat already adorning his smooth chest. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the universe, and he looks absolutely divine. 
“Sit up against the headboard.”
He complies, sitting up and kicking the covers off so that they pool at his feet. He leans back.  
“Do you want a pillow behind you? The metal probably isn’t very comfortable.” 
“Nah,” he says, giving you a grin. “I’m good.”
“Suit yourself.” 
You grab the two scarves and climb back on top of him. His cock is tenting his boxers and a wet spot darkens the gray material. 
“We need a word for if it gets to be too much.” You say, grabbing his wrists and bringing them up above his head. You secure them together with one of the scarves. You make sure it’s tight and loop it through the headboard. You watch as the muscles in his arms flex and ripple, adjusting to the new position. 
“Like a safeword?” He giggles like a teenage boy would and you shake your head at him. 
“Yeah, sure. A safeword.” 
“My safe word is “keep going,” babe.” 
You squint your eyes at him, noting the mischievous glint he has in his eye – the one he always gets when he thinks he’s said something particularly funny. 
“Ha ha.” You deadpan. “Seriously though. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” You say honestly, dropping the sexy act for a second. 
“You’re not going to make me uncomfortable, y/n. I trust you.” You stare at him a moment and you see the honesty in his eyes. He does trust you – with everything he has. 
“Still. It would make me feel a little better.”
“Just ask for a color. Green is good. Red is bad. Orange means slow down but don’t stop. How’s that?” 
“Perfect.” You lean down and capture his lips in another kiss, this time nibbling at his bottom lip. He sighs softly and you pull away, moving instead to nip at his earlobe. You pinch the sensitive skin between your teeth for a moment – knowing it always drives him crazy. 
“Hate not being able to touch you.” He says between heavy breaths. 
“It’s not about me, Josh. This is about you.” You say, kissing down his neck before stopping at his nipples. You lick and bite them and he throws his head back and groans. You smile at his reaction. 
“Gonna cover your eyes now, okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.” 
His eyes track your movements as you grab the second scarf, folding it in half. You place the soft material over his eyes and tie it securely behind his head. 
“Color?”
“Green.” 
You nod, though you know he can’t see you anymore. You slide down from his waist and push his knees apart. You settle between them and take a moment to drink him in. Arms pulled up above him, sweat glistening on his tan skin, and his pretty cock still standing at attention beneath his underwear; he reminds you of a marble statue – beautiful and smooth to the touch. Worthy to be put on display for thousands of eyes to admire. But he’s yours tonight, and yours alone. And you plan on making the best of it. 
“You look so good, Josh. All spread out like this for me.” You say and he whines as you bring your mouth to his inner thigh, pressing wet kisses to the sensitive skin there. You slowly work your way up to the edge of his boxers, nipping and biting as you go. You tuck your fingers into his waistband and pull his boxers down and off him. His cock springs free, slapping his stomach. 
“Have I ever told you how much I love your cock?” You say, before continuing your kisses to his inner thigh. 
“A few times.” He says, choking back a whine as you tease him – so close to where he wants you to be, yet still so far. 
“I should tell you more often. You’re so fucking pretty.” His cock twitches and you pause, a wicked grin spreading across your face. You look up at his face and you can see that he’s blushing beneath the scarf. 
“Did you like that, Josh? Do you like being called pretty?” 
His chest is heaving and the blush from his face bleeds down his neck as well. 
“Yes." He says quietly. "I do.” He sounds embarrassed. You giggle, happy to have discovered something new about him.
You finally brush your fingertips over his cock, stroking the vein that runs up the underside of him. He whines again and thrashes his arms above his head. 
“Don’t be embarrassed, baby.” You give his cock a little squeeze. “You are pretty. So. So. So pretty.” With each utterance of “so” you pump his cock, spreading the precum and getting him nice and slick. He bucks his hips, desperate for more. You want to give it to him – the noises he’s making are irresistible, but you pull away. 
“Patience.” 
You tease him for a while longer, switching between kissing the heated skin of his thighs and biting his nipples – each one drawing breathy little moans and whines from the back of his throat. His chest is flushed and his skin is slick with sweat. His hands are clenched above his head and you can feel the muscles in his thighs twitch as he tries to keep his hips still for you. He’s so eager to please and you think you’re wetter than you ever have been before. 
 Finally, you bring your mouth where he wants it most – allowing your lips to stretch around the girth of him. He twitches and groans – the sound so pornographic you feel like you could cum yourself just from hearing him. 
"Y/n… Oh fuck." 
You swallow him down, relaxing your jaw completely, allowing him to nudge the back of your throat. You hollow your cheeks and begin to bob your head, starting a slow but steady rhythm. 
Josh bites his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle a groan. You pull off him momenarily and he whines. 
“Don’t hold back, sweet boy. I want to hear all those filthy things fall from your pretty mouth.” 
You swallow him down again, flattening your tongue to give him a particularly powerful suck.
“Y/n,” He moans loudly, “Jesus, fuck.” You hum and the vibration makes his cock twitch in your mouth. 
You sink down on him even further until your nose brushes the hair at the base and you continue to bob your head. Your jaw is aching and your eyes are watering but you don’t stop – the noises he’s making are more than worth the discomfort. He’s making little thrusts with his hips and you can tell he’s getting close. You keep up your rhythm a moment longer before pulling off him with a ‘pop.’ He whines and you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. 
“Fuck.” He says, breathing heavily and you giggle. 
“Hey, this was your idea.” You remind him sofly. 
He huffs out a laugh. 
“Just forgot how good you are at that.” 
“Well thank you. I try.” You lean forward to give him a kiss. “Gonna start again. Color?”
“Green.” 
This time you use your hand – wrapping your fingers around him. The skin is so hot in your hand and he sighs as you start to pump him. You quickly set a brutal pace, your spit and his precum making the perfect lubrication. 
“Jesus, mama.” His mouth falls open and he moans loudly at the fast pace. Your forearm burns but you keep it up, bringing him quickly back to the edge. He’s whining – teetering on the edge between pain and pleasure. You keep going a moment longer before pulling your hand away. He gives you an incoherent groan as he realizes you’re still not going to give him the finish that he wants. You do this several more times, aggressively jacking him off to bring him back to the edge before pulling away completely. He thrashes and cries out, yanking on the ties keeping his hands bound and whining each and every time. You’ve never seen him like this, completely and utterly at the mercy of you and drunk on lust and desperation. 
Eventually, you rise from your place between his legs and you straddle him again, settling your aching cunt over his hard length. 
“Wanna see you now.” You say as you untie the scarf from his eyes and he blinks his beautiful hazel eyes open at you. 
“Hey, mama.” He says with a tired grin. 
You lean forward and kiss him again. It’s needy and sloppy, his desperation evident in the way he’s practically licking into your mouth. 
“I’m going to ride you now, Josh. And you’re going to watch me make myself cum. But you don’t get to yet, understand?” 
“Ya.” You raise a brow at him and he flushes – the redness reaching the tips of his ears. “Yes, ma’am.” 
“Good.” 
Wasting no time, you begin to grind down on his thigh. Thankfully, you usually only sleep in a t-shirt and panties, so you can easily begin to chase your release through the thin fabric. Your clit is swollen and you can feel your racing heartbeat in it as you ride him, throwing your head back as you go. You let out a high pitched moan, doing your best to give him a show. He’s watching you with dark, lust blown eyes and every muscle in his body is taut. He’s gonna be sore tomorrow if he keeps it up.  
“Feel how wet I am for you, Josh?” You say as you give him the show of his fucking life. “Seeing you like this, tied up and needy for me…” You cut yourself off with a moan. “It’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. You look so fucking pretty.”
“Y/n, please.” He whines, as your orgasm quickly begins to rise. You can feel the coil in your belly that’s been wound tight all night finally snap and you moan his name loudly. As much as this night is about him, you’re pretty sure that you just had the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever had. It goes on forever, wave upon wave of pleasure crashing through you. 
“Y/n.” He says, and the warning is there in his voice. “I’m so close. You’ve got to stop.” 
“So desperate you think you could cum without me touching you?” You ask, voice thick. His eyes are wide and begging as he gives you a pathetic nod.  
“Please.” He whispers. It’s so quiet you think you might not have even heard anything. 
“What, Josh? Speak up.” 
“Need it. So bad.” 
You cock your head to the side, giving him the most innocent look you can possibly muster. 
“Need what?” 
“Need to cum.” He whines. “Y/n, please. It hurts I need it so bad.” His voice cracks on the last word and his eyebrows are scrunched together in pain. His eyes are filled with so much need. “I’m begging you. Please.” He whines, all shame and decorum gone from him – his need to cum overriding everything else. 
“As you wish.” 
You slide your panties off and toss them somewhere into the room before gripping his cock and guiding it through your folds, collecting the wetness that’s gathered there. You sink down onto him slowly, clenching around him as much as you can. 
“Oh fuck!” He groans, throwing his head back. He thrashes his bound hands, no doubt wishing he could touch you. You rise from him – so high you’re almost completely off him, before slamming back down again. Your thighs burn with the effort of riding him, but he’s so close you know it’s not going to take long. He’s meeting you in the middle, thrusting his hips up off the bed the best he can, desperate for his release. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m gonna fucking cum!” His eyes slam shut and that’s all the warning you get before you feel him paint your insides with his release. He’s thrashing in the bed and tears leak from the corners of his eyes. The sight of him throws you into your own orgasm, the pleasure slashing through you for the second time. You clench around him – milking him for everything he has. 
You pull off him and he keeps his eyes closed, breathing heavily out his nose. You settle between his legs again and lick your mixed releases off his cock and his eyes fly open. 
“Fucking shit!” His cock twitches and he moans – the sound a mix of pain and pleasure. 
“Color?” You ask, lips hovering just over his dick. 
He stares down at you, soft lips parted. His normall curly hair is stuck to his forehead and sweat is dripping down his temples and chest. You think he’s going to say no. 
“Green.” You stare at him, attempting to cover the shock you feel. You’ve been at this for what feels like hours and there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s already exhausted. But he’s looking at you intently and you see no doubt in his eyes at all. Only trust.
You nod before swallowing him down again. Your nose is pressed into the curls of his pubic hair and saliva falls from the corners of your mouth. He whines and moans as you bob your head and his cock finally begins to respond – slowly but surely becoming harder and harder in your mouth. A stream of groans and curses fall from between his lips. You pull your mouth off him and wrap your fingers around him instead – you want to be able to see him as he falls apart again. You jack him off, flicking your wrist with each pull and you bring your other hand to message his balls. 
“Come on, Josh. Give me one more.” You encourage him as he groans and whines. “I know you can do it. You’ve been so good for me tonight. Come on.” 
His moans only grow louder and you can feel his balls tightening in your hand. 
“That’s it, pretty boy. Give it to me.” And with that, he cums for the second time. Thick ropes paint your hand and his belly as his jaw drops open and his eyes clench shut. 
“Y/n! Fuck.” He’s so loud you’re sure the nieghbors can probably hear him. You continue to pump him, guiding him through the pleasure until his moans of pleasure become moans of pain.
You let him go and reach down on the ground for his cotton boxers. You use them to carefully clean him up, doing your best to avoid his cock as much as possible. He’s watching you with dazed eyes, mouth still open and a drunk look on his face. You climb up next to him and carefully untie his wrists, rubbing the red skin from where he was yanking on them. 
“You okay, baby?” You say as you give each wrist a soft kiss. 
“Yeah, I think so.” He smiles lazily at you before leaning back to lie all the way down. “I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard in my life.” 
“Me neither.” You say, brushing his sweaty hair off his forehead. “Glad you suggested this.” 
“Me too. Don’t think I’m gonna be able to cum again for another week.” 
You laugh and lie down next to him, pulling the covers back up and over you both. You kiss him before laying your head down on his chest. 
“We’ll see.” 
“You taking control like that…” He admits quietly, “I think it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” 
“Mmm. I enjoyed it, too. Don’t get me wrong, I love it when you’re in control, but I like switching it up. We should definitely do it more often. You’re so pretty when you’re desperate.” You give him a cocky grin and he lets out a dramatic groan. 
“I’m never gonna live that down, am I?” 
You giggle. 
“Never.”
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beebee18 · 23 days
Text
My life?
Chan x Reader
(Inspired by @cheeseceli )
Super self indulgent (had a dream about it)
Reader speaks English and Hindi. (She's me)
Genre: Major fluff, curious Chan, whipped Chan.
(Not proof read)
Would LOVE some feedback, it's my first piece to ever be posted on here. Thank you for reading 🎀
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He loved listening to you speak Hindi/Urdu. He thought it sounded sweet from you. True you did speak Hindi softer than English, you just thought that the language is 'softness' personified.
So when you were on your phone with you mom, he sat down beside you smiling to greet you. You smiled back and kept speaking into the phone now thinking to cut the conversation short as Chan was finally home, at 2am mind you.
"Accha maa abhi rakhti hoon, raat ke 2 baj rahe hai idhar." You say into the phone
(Okay mom I'll hang up now, it's 2 at night here.)
"Haa beta, so jaana and tell Chan I said 'Hi'." She says.
(Okay baby, go to sleep...)
"Haa bol doongi, love you." You says lastly, your finger hovering over the screen to end the call.
(Yes, I'll tell him...)
"Love you mere jigar ka tukda." With a kiss into the speaker she hangs up as you turn to face Chan.
He looked at you with awe and a little preplexed.
"Bed?" You asked getting up and stretching, looking at him for response.
"Bed." He nods taking your hand and leading you to cuddle you to death. (probably)
Next morning was something else...
"I want to call you something in Hindi, like a nickname. " He says from the dining table chair, as you prepare breakfast.
"Is there a special reason?" You ask plating the French toast now.
"No reason, I just want to." He says pulling you into him, smushing his face into your chest. You giggled at him.
"Okay" You replied, moving back to sit down next to him.
(Later)
"What about 'love'?"
"Pyaar."
"Princess?"
"Rajkumari."
"Angel?"
"Pari."
"I don't love any of them." Chan whined, looking up at you from his head placed on your lap. Doe eyes on complete display with utter annoyance glazed over them.
"You don't have to use them Channie, just call me 'baby' or something. I really don't mind." You assure him, not wanting to make him feel worse.
"But you call me 'jagi' sometimes and it makes me feel all tingly. I wanna do the same." He says, a little sad.
"Oh, what did your mom call you last night? Right before she hung up." He says sitting up straight and turning to you.
"Jigar ka tukda?" He nods violently at your words.
"Chan that means 'piece of my liver', it's not very endearing when it's translated but it's the sweetest thing in Hindi. Also, that's more of a parent-child nickname." You say as his expression turned from excited to grossed out to sad, again.
"Do you think we'll find something cute in animals?" He asks clearly determined to find a suitable name to call you.
"Maybe, I don't know." You shrugged.
"Bunny?"
"Khargosh...nope."
"Agreed, pup?"
"I'd rather you don't call me that at all."
"I was just teasing. Butterfly?"
"Titli."
"Why does it sound weird?" He asks as his face scrunches up.
"You're just saying that cause all you hear when I say it is 'Tit'." You giggle pinching his cheek.
"I do." He laughs, a light blush covering his neck.
"Let's pause this topic here, I'm hungry." You say to him pouting.
"Let's go out, I know this dude, that is an a-mazing chef." He gets up from the sofa pulling you up with his hand in yours and walking towards the door.
A few minutes later you were inside the cuties dorm.
"So by 'going out' you meant the dorms?"
"I meant, anywhere but home."
"And by 'a-mazing chef' you meant Minho?"
"Yep." He pops the 'p' at the end, kisses your temple before informing you that he's gonna go annoy Felix in his room.
You sit down beside Seungmin and Jeongin on the sofa as they play Mario Kart, very focused.
They greet with smiles and nods and hums.
You don't say much either as they seemed engrossed and you didn't wanna see them whine about loosing because of you later at lunch.
"Lunch is served." Says Minho standing in the middle of the dorm in an cartoonish voice.
Everybody settled on the dining table, Minho began to describe the meal he had prepared as the maknaes looked impatient to dig in.
Jeongin taking a bite as soon as Minho finished so everyone could start eating, earning an eye roll from Minho making Chan laugh a little.
"Jaan, could you pass the salt."
You pass the salt to him before fully processing what he said and freezed...
"What....did you call me?" You look at him, a little shocked but also curious.
"Jaan, do you like it?" He asks, looking at his plate, a little shy now as the boys were looking at you both in interest.
"Do I like it?? Channie that's like the best nickname anyone could ever use!!" You smile the widest with a blushing face and kiss his cheek while hugging his side, almost falling down.
He hugs you back of course (saving you from face-planting) laughing to himself.
A gagging sound from Seungmin brought you back to reality, as you looked around you saw a smirk from Felix.
"Did you use Google?" The first thing you asked as soon as you were out of the cuties dorm as your curiosity got the best of you.
"I didn't, jaan." Be says glancing at you with a proud smile before looking back to the road.
Everytime he used it, it felt unreal.
Did he even know the meaning. Of course he did. He wouldn't use such a word all the time without knowing the meaning right?
"Do you know what it means?" You ask, wondering how he found out about it if not for Google.
"Yeah, means you're my life." He answers grinning wide, glancing at you again to gauge your expression. You looked just about ready to be a ripe tomato wanting to melt away.
"How do you know it?" You couldn't just leave it, he could've seen it on the internet somewhere, Hindi wasn't exactly an unpopular language.
"Okay fine, I called your mom and she said she didn't have any but your dad always uses the word for her, so I asked her for the meaning." He says parking the car and coming around to open your door for you.
"So now you're besties with maa?" You snicker at him and walk towards your apartment door.
He's right behind you, his hands on your waist walking into the flat with you and kicking the door closed behind him.
"Can't blame me jaan, you're besties with my entire family." He says kissing your cheek and plopping down on the sofa, patting the space next to him.
"Hayee meri jaan, mera to dil aa gaya." You say kissing him and snuggling in his chest.
(My life, you've got my heart)
"I'm too tired to look for the meaning today. Let's sleep." He says kissing the top of your head and leading you to the bedroom.
"Old man needs his sleep." Seungmin's jokes rubbing off on you was not something Chan was pleased about as he mumbled a 'sure old woman' before pulling you into bed, into his chest to waft away into dreamland.
"Jaan, meri jaan." A soft whisper left his lips before kissing your temple and falling into a deep sleep.
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kyber-kisses · 1 year
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Here In The Dark
Captain Rex x Jedi!Reader
Summary: while on a scouting mission the Reader and Rex are forced to find shelter when an unexpected blizzard hits.
Warnings: minor injuries, mutual pining😈, Rex being his socially awkward self-
A/N: this is purely self indulgent and it’s probably crap but enjoy!
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“Yep it’s decided. I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna kill Anakin.”
“Little dramatic dont you think?”
Shifting in the knee deep snow, you turned to give Rex and icy stare that rivaled the weather around you. “No. All I think is that when we make it back to base camp I’m gonna force throw him into the nearest sun.”
It was supposed to be a simple scouting mission across the northern ridge line. Blue skies and warm weather the whole time. Nothing to worry about.
At least that’s what Anakin had told you.
And what a fool you were to think he was right.
Because now the sun had long since set and a horrific blizzard was bearing down and you and the captain as the both of you struggled through the almost waist deep snow. Your comma had long since lost contact with base camp now leaving you and Rex completely alone on the darkened mountain side as sheets of heavy snow slammed into you with even stronger winds.
The only positive was that at least you were with Rex. If you were with anyone else you probably would have buried them in the snow somewhere. For example: Anakin.
If Anakin were here you would have buried him the the powder a good few miles back.
“You know stomping around all bitterly isn’t gonna help the situation.” Rexs voice cut through the wind slightly as he trudged besides you.
“Says the one with the helmet on that protects his face from the wind and the cold.” You grumbled, feeling snowflakes stick to your eyelashes as you blinked. “Can you hand me your nightscope?”
“Sure thing.” Once the device had been procured to halted in your tracks, ignoring the way the wind and snow whipped your hair around your face as you looked through the night vision scope.
You had hoped for better quality but with the heavy falling snow and winds the screen was a mess of fuzz for the most part. You were still practically stumbling around blind.
“Let me have a try.” Extending his hand once more, you dropped the scope back into Rexs possession watching through squinted eyes as he surveyed the land with the scope.
“Anything?”
“Two clicks to the east.” The captain spoke, pointing his finger into the dark before passing the scope back to you.
It wasn’t much but it was something. Through the fuzzy landscape you could just barely make out a dark blotch against the side of the ridge. “Cave maybe?”
“Here’s to hoping. We don’t really have any other options.” Rex shrugged, clipping the scope back onto his belt before moving forward with you in tow.
You and Rex stuck as close to eachother as you could in fear of losing one another in the white-out conditions. Cold bit at every inch of your body wether it was exposed or not, it seeped into the cradles of your boots and made its way in the fabric of your gloves. No part of you was safe.
“Commander, here.” At the sound of Rexs out of breath voice you picked your eyes up from where they had been focusing on the ground, only to find he had stopped, extending his hand to help you up the steeper incline. You took it graciously, allowing him to keep the two of you tethered the remainder of the way.
The two of you were practically in the cave before you knew you had even reached it. One moment you were at the mouth and the next you were sliding through it. The cave led ever so slightly downward a few feet before flattening out completely, Rex assisting you down as the two of you moved away from the howling winds and ice pellets that battered the mountain side.
Before you could even reach for your own flashlight, Rex was clicking his on, a bright beam of cold white light cutting through the darkness as he scanned the inside of the cave, his hand hovering over his blaster.
“No one’s here Rex. I can feel it.”
All you could feel in the force was you and Rex, along with the dull vibrations of the rock and dirt beneath you. There were no other life forms. As the beam danced across the cave walls you made sure to make note of everything. It was small, the cave ceiling on three or four feet above your head and it’s entire size couldn’t have been bigger than your quarters aboard the Resolute.
Shrugging off the survival pack that had been on your back you dropped it to the floor, fingers still too cold to do anything that mattered.
“I’ll get a fire going.” Digging into the bag himself, the captain pulled out a cinder kit.
“I can help.”
Kneeling down on the cave floor next to Rex, you helped set up the small device. Normally all it would take was one small click of the button but of course said button was broken.
“You’re lucky you got stuck out here with a Jedi with my abilities.” Musing lightly you cupped your hands and brought them to your lips, warming them up in whatever way you could before rubbing them together. When you finally got a small spark you let out a sigh of relief before sharply snapping your fingers together to produce a small flame. “Aha still got it!”
“When we’re you gonna tell me you could do that?” Besides you, Rex watched the tiny flame dance across the top of your finger tip in wonder.
Shrugging slightly, you brought the flame down to the cinder box and a moment later a much larger flame leapt forth, brightening the cavern exponentially. “Right now.”
“Can all Jedi do that?”
“No unfortunately. It’s a skill only a handful of us possess.”
“Well nice work Commander.”
A small smile tugged on your lips. “Thank you.”
If someone had told you this morning that you would be spending the night holed up in a cavern on the side of some mountain int he middle of a blizzard with Rex you would have laughed. . . Yet here you were.
And honestly there were worse places you could be.
“You doing alright commander?” Standing up from where he had been knelt on the floor, Rex wiped off his gloves before giving you a concerned look.
“I’m fine all things considered. You?”
“Never better.”
As the heat of the fire filled the cavern you peeled off your boots, your socks following suit as you laid them out next to the dancing flame. The fire would do l it take to help you if you were sitting around in soaking wet clothes.
And at that thought you began peeling of the layers of your Jedi robes, oblivious to the fact that Rex had flushed a deep red before averting his gaze from you. When you were done all the remained on your body was the solid black undergarment you wore. It was once peace and didn’t have any sleeves but it went down to your mid thighs in a way that made it look sort of like a unitard. It was the only dry piece of clothing you had left.
You were half way through pulling out both of the therma-blankets from the pack when you realized Rexs back was turned to you, his hand awkwardly on his hip as he face the mouth of the cave.
“Rex? Are you alright?”
His posture straightened ever so slightly at his name. “Of course commander! Just wanted- just wanted to give you some privacy that’s all.”
His words hit you suddenly as you looked down at your much more exposed body, now understanding. “Oh.”
You hadn’t even thought about how Rex might react to that. You had been friends with him for so long you didn’t even think twice.
Wrapping one of the reflective therma blankets around your shoulders, you padded across the floor of the cave, reaching out to gently grab his shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about that. I don’t mind. Just be glad I’m not walking around full on nude.” You joked lightly, once more unaware of the deepening red creeping up Rex’s face.
When he didn’t say anything you felt a slight frown slip across your features. He was acting weird. Very weird.
“You should get out of that armor. This type wasn’t meant for the cold climates such as this.” You waved your hands, gesturing to the weather beyond the mouth of the cave. “Add that to the list of reasons on why I’m gonna kill Anakin when we get back. He should of had us prepare better.”
At that you got a light chuckle out of Rex, the clone captain turning slightly to look over his shoulder at you.
“I’ll be fine commander.”
You sent him a warning stare. “As both your superior and friend I’m telling you if you don’t get out of that armor right now I will start peeling it off you. You need to stay warm and this?” You knocked your hand against the plastoid armor, your teeth chattering slightly as you spoke, giving away the fact that you were still cold. “This isn’t gonna help you.”
At your words the captain let a heavy sigh before raising his hands to undo the clasps of his chest plate which you took gently from him before sitting it against the wall next to the pack. You repeated the action several more times until all his armor was stacked neatly to the side.
“See? I bet you’re warmer already?” You mused, looking up at him with a small smile as you gently rested your hand against his chest momentarily.
Beneath your touch Rex shivered, the feeling foreign to him enough to elicit a physical response. If you had felt it you didn’t say anything.
In truth, you had Rex wrapped around your finger. (Not that you knew). From the moment you joined the 501st as its other Jedi- commander you had Rexs complete loyalty and respect. You came walking on the bridge with your kinda smile and even kinder eyes and Rex swore he melted.
And now here he was in some cave with a half naked you.
Force, he had a way of always ending up in weird and awkward situations.
“You hungry? I know there’s like a weeks worth of ration bars int he front ouch of the pack?”
“I’m alright commander, but thank you.” Moving past you, Rex lowered himself to the ground in front of the fire, leaning back against the cave wall behind him with a heavy sigh.
Beneath his gloves he squeezed his fingers into a fist, repeating the action several times before it caught your attention.
“Your hands are cold aren’t they?”
“Nothing I can’t deal with commander. I’ve been through worse.”
At his words you rolled your eyes before sitting down in front of him and tucking your knees to your chest. “Why must you clones all be so stubborn?”
“I am not stubb—“
Rexs words felt flat as he suddenly felt your hands gently taking his. Turning his head he watched once more with a sudden blush on his cheeks as you carefully removed his gloves and tossed them to the floor.
Your fingers danced over the calloused skin of his palms as if memorizing every bump and scar before you cupped his hands and brought them to your lips before breathing a gentle plume of hot air into them. Curious brown eyes watched you as you placed a gentle kiss to his finger tips before shifting to grip his hands fully in your own.
“And it’s Y/N by the way.”
Rexs brain seemed to have short circuited because he had no clue as to what you were talking about. “. . . What?”
“Back on base it’s Commander this and Commander that. Here? I’m just Y/N. No need for the formalities. I call you Rex don’t I?”
“I mean, yeah I guess?”
You nodded slowly, dropping Rex’s hands as you moved to adjust the blanket around your shoulders when a shiver ran through your body.
“Still cold?”
“A bit. These therma- blankets only do so much.” You explained, look down at the reflective material that you currently had wrapped around you.
“ I can agree with you on that.” Rex sent you a small grin as he paused. “We should stay close together though. It will help contain our body heat.”
It took everything in the poor captain to not stumble over his words at the thought of staying so close to each other.
“Good call.” You nodded before standing back up and walking across the cave floor to grab the other therma-blanket at the two compact bed rolls that you had also carried with you.
The only problem was you couldn’t get the damn packaging opening. Though your own hands had warmed exponentially your fingers were still shaky as you tried to break to wrapping on the sleeping pads. After a moment you let out a string of curses.
“Kriffing hell, who in the force packed these damn th-“
“Here, let me try.” An arm suddenly reached over your shoulder, taking the package from your hands.
Letting out a defeated sigh you nodded as you turned. “Thank you, Re-“
If there were any other words you were supposed to say they no longer existed as you came face to face with Rex’s bare chest. The clone pausing in his action when he saw you had turned, almost instantly the red returned to his cheeks.
“My Uh- my shirt was still wet. Thought it would be best to let it dry with everything else—“ he stuttered slightly, apparently oblivious to the pink that had now graced your cheeks as well.
Another shiver went up your body along with a small choked sound departing your lips.
At that Rex frowned, suddenly kneeling down to grab the other therma-blanket and wrap it snuggly around you. “Still cold?”
Oh. Oh your sweet, awkward, oblivious captain thought the shiver was from you being cold. Kriff, he was gonna be the end of you.
You went sure if it was how tired you were or whatever was happening in front of you but out of nowhere your knees buckled and you went down. . . Or you would have if Rex hadn’t reached out and caught you, warm study arms securing you safely to his chest as he lowered you softly to the ground.
“Oops.”
“Comman- Y/N? Are you alright?”
“Just a little case of jelly legs.” You laughed awkwardly, Rex looking at you with a concerned gaze.
“Stay here.”
Humming a response you settled onto your butt ont he floor of the cave, watching as Rex peeled the sleeping pads out of their packaging, the pads instantly beginning to inflate.
You didn’t even get a chance to move once they were full before Rex was suddenly picking you up yet again and settling you down on one and securely tucking the therma-blankets around you.
“That better?”
You hummed a response, watching Rex with a new type of wonder as you did.
“Get some sleep. I’ll take watch tonight and we can head out at first light once the storm has moved passed.” He explained, standing up to move away.
You could see goosebumps prickling his skin as he moved away and before he could get any further you had gotten up from your sleeping pad and quickly gone after him. He had barely turned around before you were wrapping him in a hug, the warmth of his skin flush against your own as you did.
At this point Rex had lost track of the amount of times you had gotten him to blush, the sudden contact of you against his body making his goosebumps more apparent.
“You need to stay warm too.” You spoke softly, pulling off one of the blankets as you did before moving to wrap it snugly around his broad shoulders. Once that was done you grabbed his hand once more and tugged him back across the cavern, onto pausing once to nudge the two sleeping pads together with your foot.
“What are you-“
Collapsing onto the first one, you parted at the vacant spot next to you. “C’mon. Don’t worry about keeping watch tonight. Nothings out here. . . Except us.”
Rex gave a concerned glance towards the mouth of the cave. He didn’t like the idea of no one standing guard. . . But at the same time he was cold and tired and he wanted nothing more than to fall onto that sleeping mat next to you.
The captain let out a sigh of defeat as he did just that, a sort of shy smile crossing his lips as he did. With his back resting against the smooth stone of the cave wall, he settled onto the sleeping mat, inhaling deeply when you moved closer to him to the point in which the skin of your arms were flush against eachother.
“You’re like a walking furnace you know that?” Letting out a relaxed sigh, you rested your head against Rex’s shoulder, curling up closer to him as you did.
“Heh, I don’t really feel like it.”
Everything in Rexs body wanted to shiver at the contact of your skin against his, but he belt fast. Instead trying to focus his attention on the firelight dancing across the caves walls.
There was a few good minutes of long silence which allowed Rex to believe you had fallen asleep, but after another moment you spoke up.
“Rex?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I ask you a weird question?”
“You ask me weird questions all the time.”
You let out a tired laugh, picking up your head to look at him. “Have you ever been kissed before?”
At that Rex fell silent, glancing awkwardly around the room. “No offense but that not what I was expecting.”
Sitting up properly you fiddled with your fingers. You could face down Sith Lords and swarms of droids and remain unfazed. . . But this? This was the thing that was making you awkward. Funny how the universe worked.
“I just, I really wanna kiss you l. I know we’ve been friends for years but how could I not get feelings for you because your so kind and patient and caring and loyal and I just- you’re brilliant in every way imaginable and here we are in this cave in the middle of nowhere and I don’t know if I’ll get a chance lie or his again and I think maybe you feel the same about me and I-“ you paused, look over at the bewildered look on Rexs face. “I’m rambling aren’t I?”
“I- Uh. . . Yeah maybe a little-“Rex spoke slowly, clearly showing he was trying to wrap his head around everything that had just come out of your mouth.
“See, and now I’ve made everything awkward!” You wailed, your face falling into your hands as you did.
“No! No-“ sitting up besides you, the captain reached towards you, pulling your hands away from your face before awkwardly reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “I just- I’ve never really kissed anyone. I don’t want to do it wrong or anything-“
This time both of your were blushing, red cheeks inches from each-other as you looked at Rex with wide eyes.
“That doesn’t matter to me. You’re just so brilliant and amazing and the force feels warmer when I’m around you and-“
Neither of you had realized how you had both slowly begun navigating towards each-other, your nose Alamo touching as you looked at each-other, eyes wide and curious.
“Y/N.” Rexs voice was soft. Softer than you had ever heard it, but it captured you all the same.
You didn’t know how he did it, but Rex had reached into a place deep inside you and brought something forth you had yet to think about. A realization in a way.
“I have so many names now that I think about it.” You whispered, almost as if he had put you in a trance. “Padawan, Knight, commander Y/L/N, Y/N— but here?” You voice grew quieter. “Here in the dark, with you? I have no name. I am just me. Entirely me.”
Both set of eyes flickered downwards and you and Rex closed the gap between you as equals. It was a shy kiss but when Rex slowly deepened it you couldn’t help the small gasp of surprise that escaped you before you melted further into him. His hands were warm now and they cradled your face so delicately and beneath your palm his chest radiated heat. He was like being wrapped in pure sunlight.
He pulled back slowly after a moment, looking downward somewhat shyly. “Was that ok?”
“Everything you do is always more than ok-“ it was as if you had been put into a dazed state by his lips, your body settling against his as you sunk lower onto your mat, your head against Rex’s chest. Beneath your ear his heartbeat thumped rhythmically and for the first time that night you both felt warm.
Maybe you wouldn’t kill Anakin when you got back to base.
749 notes · View notes
cherichli · 3 months
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𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄,,; ₊˚⊹⋆ [Megumi drabble]
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𝐬𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬,,, °⋆.࿔*:・}} Based on my experience with a guy friend (but exaggerated and jujutsu-fied) because I'm in denial and this is the first time I've actually liked someone besides platonic or familial love. Anyways, he reminds me of Megumi (LIKE A LOT, LOT.) so, I decided to write this down to somehow express this searing sensation of 'crushing'
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒!!! [F] READER! ,,, self-indulgent ,,, slight-humor (I'm apathetic, stop this is so hard) ,,, overthinking ,,, wholesome ,,, pinch of angst ,,, insecurities ,,, bad grammar ,,, crushing! Megumi ,,, ehh I don't know anymoree
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˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚ ] YOU WEREN’T accustomed to love. It was a fickle thing; ephemeral; short–lived… it never concerned you to deal with boys who weren’t worth your time. They couldn’t even come close to the men you’ve liked in the fictional world— who are green flags, ones who don't even compare to real people— you’ve witnessed second–hand how absurd guys were: The prejudice against women was slowly shifting, leaving more room for women to enjoy their lives as they pleased. You weren’t an active feminist… nor bash guys on twitter to prove a point. 
You were someone in–between. 
Someone who was willing to listen to both sides yet, call out the other if it’s blatant ignorance or discrimination. And in this case… you’d call ‘sides’ with women… look, It wasn’t like you had a bias towards guys— or you do. Based on some uncomfortable experiences with some— you just… dislike them! Not that bad, right?
 
It wasn’t like the whole world would turn on you because of that. 
…there could be a possibility. Maybe. It depends, really.
What can you say? You’d never shown that much concern for boys— heck! Ever since 10 years ago, you already had a type for green flags, who’d understand your current dilemma. Opting to provide a semblance of comfort and safety whenever you need it, without asking for it. So maybe, you’re heavily into fictional men who’d actually treat you right, and understand your lack of knowledge in the field of romance. 
So maybe, you like the quiet guy– Megumi Fushiguro, the new student in your grade. He sat farther from you but you would never look past his dark spikey locks— ones that'll leave you questioning if it was real or fake— his emerald eyes glinting in boredom. His stupidly long lashes that makes your stomach churn whenever he’d flutter it your way. His marble–like face: clear, unlike yours: acne marks. Blemishes. Dull–sunken eyes. Frizzy, unkempt hair. Protruding bangs that stab your pores in every direction. 
Imperfections, that hinders your full potential to be pretty. 
The potential to be called pretty everyday— in–waking conscious and subconscious— the potential to be called pretty by Megumi Fushiguro .
So maybe, you fell in love. Or found a crush… with the guy next room (Eugh, as a 15 year old? Are you serious?) So! maybe, you finally liked someone after years of cringing and avoiding dance partners. Maybe you were actually compatible with a guy like him…? (WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?! YOU AREN’T READY FOR COMMITMENT!!!?) Orr, you're being delusional. 
Stupidly and idiotically delusional. Yep, that would explain this tingle of emotion whenever you’d peer at Megumi, finding his gaze straight at you; or the burning ‘sation of his fingers brushing against yours; Megumi’s small smile at your squawking laughter— YUP. COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY DELUSIONAL. FEELING INFATUATED AND ONLY LIKING THE IDEA O– 
“Is [name] here?” Speak of the devil and he shall appear. 
You blink out of your reverie— [eye c.] flickering to him. Heart stuttering at the resting–pout you always display; your sunken eyes. Pale [lip c.] slightly–chapped and dry. Pinkish cheeks as little bumps curve around them. Bangs tipping up–sideways. Brows knitted, and oh, he wishes he could rub the space between them. Your figure warming his ivory cheeks—  looking up to Megumi standing outside the classroom’s door, his jacket in–hand as he awkwardly stands there. 
Standing up, you saunter over to Megumi. Smiling as you gently reach for his jacket— the material searing your skin in a strange sensation— thanking him and hugging it close to your chest. He nods calmly. Promptly leaving for homeroom, a few doors down. 
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NOBARA AND Yuuji watched— the brunette choking the boy’s neck. Trying to cease the burst of butterflies as she cheered silently. Yuuji grasped the door’s frame tightly, cracking the wood– crying in tears at Megumi’s ‘first’ move— “Thanks, Megumi.” [name] smiled, causing the male to visibly stiffen, silently nodding as he turned away: rosy cheeks as he sighs dreamily. Bubbles of warmth exploding in his guts. A smile on a normally scowling–Megumi. 
CRACK!
“AAAA! YUUJI BROKE THE DOOR!?!” Megumi’s eyes widened, lips twitching in disdain “The fuck?! Does he have a Gorilla grip or su—” 
“He can gorilla grip deez nu—” 
“WAAAHH, FUSHIGUROOOO!!!!!!” The two exclaim. Dramatically crying as Megumi scowls. Irritated and annoyed at the prospect of those two idiots—
 “Oi–” suddenly bombarded by the two breaching his boundary.
“WHEN'S THE WEDDING?”
“I’M THE BEST MAN, RIGHT?”
“I’M GONNA BE THE BEST AUNT!” 
“W-wha—” 
“HOW MANY KIDS?!!!” 
“I need 5 children, which needs to be ALL GIRLS.” 
“All girls?!?! WHAT ABOUT BOYS HUH, YOU MISANDRIST.” 
“AT LEAST I’M NOT A PERVERT–” 
“I'LL LET YOU KNOW. I'M A VERY RESPECTFUL AND KIN—”
“TO EVERY GIRL WHO ISNT JENNIFER LAWRENCE.” 
“THIS IS SO UNFAIR! YOU KNOW DAMN WELL HOW HOT SHE IS.”
“My fucking god. Will you two ever stop screaming?” SMACK 2X
“OW!”   “ABUSER!!” 
SLAP!!!
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PULLING THE clothing over your head, you check yourself over the mirror: jacket a denim color. Fitting snugly against your hips— Stomach fluttering as you catch the scent of sugared almond–vanilla; It wasn’t strong nor faint. Sweetly pleasant, too. Does he use Burberry Brit? 
“Huh?”  You freeze. Hiding your flushing face. 
(What the hell are you thinking?!!? You aren’t even together, dumbass! You’re borrowing it because you asked— not because he willingly gave it…to you…) 
And somehow. your stomach dulled; butterflies turning to flies as they buzz. Buzz, and buzz. You’d understand if he doesn’t feel the same– maybe, you were reading into this encounter a little. Little would be an understatement. Would it be possible to be anxious about a guy? Yes definitely. But! It's not like he’s done anything bad… he was just helping out! He’s a friend of yours, so get that in your head. 
You’re just delusional. A hopeless romantic who never knew what it’s like to actually love someone— heck! This might be infatuation and not actually him doing a lot of stuff for you because he wants to— 
didn’t you hear he loves someone else? (..really?) 
You cringed. Dismissing your thoughts, “he’s not even mine. And this is how I think of him? God. This is embarrassing.” you sigh. You’re never gonna get accustomed to love, huh.
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unedited,,; 997 words.
°⋆.࿔*:・}} I don't know man. Having a crush is so weird. Anyways!!! Hope you enjoyed this mess I wrote to express bits of emotions I felt :DD
109 notes · View notes
goldensunsetchild · 6 months
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♱ Odd Eye ♱ | SAGAU fanfiction|
[CW: SAGAU, cult themes, violence, imposter!creator, isekai'd reader, fem! reader. A little self indulgent.] Word count: 2.2k Author's note: please keep in mind that english is not my first language and that there may be some mistakes. I do hope that the story is coherent enough 😅.
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Honestly I never ever considered the possibility because it was down from 0.001% so when it happened it surprised me, it really did. I was just laying down on the grass while looking at the clear blue sky completely flabbergasted still processing the situation, everything around me was different there was no doubt about it but what if I was actually dreaming? No, it can't be I already slapped myself to see if I was dreaming but it hurt the hell and nothing happened. Alright but what if maybe is just a lucid dream? Impossible, I already moved around a bit and normally you can't control your own body or anything that happens inside a lucid dream. I sighed before getting up on my feet once more.
What are you supposed to do after getting isekai'd? Interacting with the locals doesn't sound like a good idea, mainly because I don't know if I'm going to understand their language... In these kinds of situations I wish I had the assistance of something like great sage but I guess I wasn't lucky enough to gain a skill like that. I was so absorbed into my thoughts that I didn't realized that I got close to the borders of a city and it wasn't until I looked up from the ground that I noticed how familiar that city looked, I could never forget it... Mondstadt the city of freedom. Then I finally understood that I was in Teyvat.
Oh! Then entering the city might not be a good idea after all, what if I were to be stuck in this whole creator imposter situation? ... Yeah that's not going to happen absolutely not, so I drifted away to the path that led towards Springvale and if I kept following the route that I remember I could perfectly arrive at Dvalin's lair, yep that sounded pretty much safe. I did my best to hide from any person that I could find alongside the path because I didn't wanted to grab undesirable attention that might end up making me have to run away and to be honest my stamina sucks. Right! I forgot that I have bad stamina so is probably going to take me a while to get where I plan to go quickly.
I decided to stop when I entered to Wolvendom, noticing almost immediately that just a couple of steps from where I was, it was Boreas lair. I sat on the ground taking my time to catch my breath as I glanced at my surroundings, there was really no point of comparation between what was shown in the game versus the actual thing. I closed my eyes for a bit trying to catch the sound of the nature as almost no one dared to wander around the wolves territory, then the sound of footsteps startled me making me get up really quick ready to run away.
"There's no doubt, I could never mistake this scent, for is the one that belongs to the mighty creator."
I heard a voice speaking almost immediately recognizing it as Boreas voice.
"Yes, the smell.. It's Lupical."
Another voice spoke and by the lack on their vocabulary it was easy to deduce who it was: Razor.
"Creator? I'm just an ordinary traveler, I was just passing by and... I was about to leave, yes!. If you excuse me, I'll take my leave now."
I said trying not to sound nervous as I stepped back and turned away ready to leave.
But the young boy was more faster than me and he quickly blocked my path by standing in front of me.
"Lupical don't leave. Lupical can stay. Razor knows, the smell and the right eye."
He said and I blinked a little confused. Right eye? What does that mean?, in the end I decided to stay with them but just for a little.
"Alright, I'll stay with you guys." I said and Razor's eyes shined with happiness. "But only a little, I don't want to bother you guys too much."
What in the beginning was only meant to be a quick-stay ended up in a more than a month stay, every time I intended to leave Razor stopped me pleading me with staying a little bit more so in the end I obliged and stayed. But as time was passing by I started to get this feeling of uneasiness, because I soon noticed that the patrols of the Knights of Favonius were starting to come to Wolvendom more frequently like they were searching for something... or someone in particular.
It was only a matter of time before even the Acting Grand Master of the Knights, ended up coming and not greeting me in a friendly way like my instincts were telling me. It seemed that Razor was doing his best to keep the knights away from getting too much close to Boreas lair but the efforts seemed to get more ineffective with the passing of the days. I needed to come up with a strategy for the worst-case scenario: that the imposter alternative universe was an actual thing and if it's truly like this... escaping was meant to be difficult and negotiating wasn't going to be on the table.
If I put at use the variable that, I'm the truly the creator, then there are a few more variations that I would need to include. First, in case that a = me has x = a power I would need to figure out x to see if I could get a chance in scaping from f, the knights, and have a 0.01% of chances of surviving. The game changing is if x is or not a power that would allow me to get away without getting harmed, if it ends up being something useless I'm not going to make it alive and would die at the hands of the super duper loyal acolytes of the fake creator. But how do I figure out if I have powers? Do I just do random gestures to see if something happens? Well I guess that's better than just not doing anything at all.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, concentrating on feeling any possible sign of a flow of elemental energy running inside of me. But as much as I tried I couldn't feel anything, maybe I didn't have any powers... no, wait; it's too early to give up come on, think! Then I remembered something, according to Hinduism the human body has seven main circles of energy, the chakras and these often can get blocked and misaligned... maybe I cannot feel the flow of elemental energy because my emotions are blocking everything.
Normally one would start with the one at the base of the spine, but for now let's try to unblock the chakra that corresponds to air, or in this world, anemo. Anahata, the heart chakra that it's associated with the air element - located at the center of the chest; it deals with feelings such as love, compassion, emotional security, forgiveness and kindness. But, it tends to get blocked by one particular emotion: grief; so I took a deep breath concentrating once more in finding what was the grief that kept my heart chakra closed. After finding it, I needed to let it go and forgive so the pain would go away freeing not only my heart but also allowing the anemo energy to flow inside of me.
Then, I finally started to feel it and I imagined a wind current lifting me up so, when I opened my eyes I found myself floating in the air high up above Wolvendom. Upon seeing everything on the ground from so high in the sky and feeling how the wind softly kept me up from falling I understood why air was the element of freedom; it was as the imaginary shackles that kept me tied to the ground had suddenly disappeared. Then I slowly started to descend to the ground, it was as if the wind was holding me with care and when my feet touched the ground my body felt more light than before.
Now, if I can fly then I should be able to escape if things get messy. Though, for the next two months I kept practicing levitation and a little bit of flying secretly awaiting my signal to leave in other words the Knights of Favonius arrival to Boreas lair. I honestly don't have the desire to hurt anyone but if it means that I can guarantee my freedom and survival, I'll do whatever it takes to achieve that... even if it means taking extreme measures.
After a while without them appearing I initially thought that they might have just gave up but when I saw Razor running inside of Boras lair as fast as his legs allowed him I knew that they finally arrived. As I predicted Jean was leading the party that came to face me, of course between all the faces there I saw Kaeya too but the one who surprised me the most was Lisa... because she usually never got involved in things of these matters. I stood up from where I was sitting and put myself in front of Razor in a protecting manner, he was breathless and glanced up at me with a face that was saying that he should be the one doing that and not me.
Jean looked at me and without her saying a word I understood... for them I'm an imposter.
"I see, so the reports are true. There's someone who is trying to impersonate our holy creator, taking her face is enough of a blasphemy but affirming to be her is even worse."
She said.
"That's not true. Lupical does not lie. Razor knows, it's creator."
Razor said in an attempt to defend me from what Jean said. I gave him a glance and shaked my head.
"There's no need for you to defend me, Razor. I know it upsets you but arguing with stubborn people will lead you to a blocked road. If they want me to leave this place, I'll do as they ask."
I said softly to him. His eyes looked saddened, I knew that he was probably feeling so powerless right now but if leaving was the most peaceful answer then all I would have to do was leave. But my peaceful intentions were clearly not what they came for in the first place and I understood that when Jean drew out her sword.
"You are not going to leave, you are going to pay for your sins right here and now. Knights, seize her!"
I sighed.
"Just as I expected."
I mumbled softly before turning around to glance at Razor, I smiled warmly at him.
"Thanks for your hospitality, Razor. I hope one day we can see each other again."
After that I created a wind current that lifted me up from the ground, I floated high in the air and glanced up at where the Knights were. It probably lasted about a second but my eyes never let the eyes of the people gathered in there, after that my body went higher and I left my body be guided by wind. Soon I left Wolvendom behind, the wind currents slowly were guiding me to where I first intended to go: towards Dvalin's lair.
[ Kaeya's POV ]
Right after Jean gave the order to capture the imposter, she suddenly created a wind current and lifted from the ground. As she kept going more higher she glanced up at everyone and when she did that... I don't know why but I felt a sense of familiarity. It was so strange but for a reason I felt like I had seen those eyes so many times. After that failed attempt in capturing the imposter we returned to the headquarters, there Jean summoned me and Lisa to her office so we went there. Upon entering she stayed silent for a while before starting to speak.
"That imposter... I never thought she could be able to hold elemental power. It seems that she has an anemo vision that's the only explanation at why she used the power of the wind to fly and upon hearing what she said it seemed that she already knew about our plan of capturing her. If only we could have arrived way sooner maybe we could have captured her by surprise. Lisa, where do you think the imposter left to?"
Lisa stayed silent for a bit.
"I'm not completely sure but the direction seemed to be towards the Stormterror's lair."
Jean huffed. That was quite the difficult place to get access to.
"Without mentioning Dvalin himself, that place is infested of hilichurls and Abyss mages. It seems we are going to be unable to move without a proper strategy, Acting Grand Master."
I commented. And Jean rubbed her temples, she knew that I was right so even if we wanted to go right now we couldn't do that. It was going to take some time before we could be able to chase her clue and even so... Why do I still keep thinking about her? Why does her eyes look ... so oddly familiar to me?
To be continued.
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munsonownsmyass · 1 year
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Loving You Easy
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Frank Castle x reader
Warnings: Oh, well... Plus size reader, insecurities, kissing. SMUT! oral (f receiving), fingering, bodyworhsip, praise, Frank saying 'Good girl' is a warning in itself, unprotected sex (wrap it up irl tho), creampie, cockwarming if you squint. And a little surprise.
Notes: So... Besides that little cameo in my Billy fic, I've never written for Frank. First full fic for him. Have I nailed his character? Probably not, but I still like what I made. Please be gentle.
And yes... This was super self-indulgent, I'm so sorry 🤣
This is part of the Thirsty for Cox april challenge, where we had to choose a song as inspo for our fic. My song was Loving You Easy by Zach Brown Band.
Words: 3.2 K
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It’s the day most girls dream about their whole lives. The day they will go through countless of bad dates and the wrong men for, just to find the one guy that completes them. The one guy she can’t imagine living without.
This was that day. Dressed in white, looking more beautiful than ever. The wedding dress so beautiful it brings tears to your mother’s eyes. The hair and makeup flawless accompanied by a smile that would make even the darkest days brighter.
Unfortunately, this was not your day, but your sisters. While you were stuck somewhere between horrible dates and unfulfilling one-night stands, Jessie had found the love of her life. Matt was perfect. Lawyer, devilishly handsome and so kind and thoughtful.
And you were happy for them, you really were. But you could feel that little pang of jealousy, wishing you could have the same one day. And honestly, you didn’t even care about the big wedding and the whole ‘feeling like a princess’ thing. You just wanted someone to love and who would love you in return.
Sighing heavily, you adjust your dress one more time, looking into the mirror. Not even maid of honor, but that’s okay. Behind you the rest of the bridal party is giggling and having a great time worshipping the bride. Leaving silently, without them noticing, you walk outside to get some air.
“Need a drink?” A gruff voice asks, and you look up into a pair of brown eyes. The guy gives you a sideways smile, holding out his beer.
“What makes you think I’ll share a beer with a stranger?” You question, taking in his features. Dark brown hair, dark stubbles along his chiseled jaw and very kissable lips. Very handsome and definitely the type of guy you’d hit on at a bar. Of course, followed by a rejection, because a guy like that would certainly have someone.
“I’m following you down the aisle in 15 minutes, so we’re hardly strangers, princess.” He smiles, retracting the beer and take a sip, looking out over the beautifully decorated backyard of your parents’ country estate.
“I take it you’re Frank then?” You smile, stepping closer to him. Your eyes meet and he offers the beer once more and this time you take a sip of it.
“Yep. Frank Castle.” He extends his hand, and you shake it, giving him your name in return. For a while you just sit there, passing the bottle back and forth while making small talk, until your mother comes looking for you.
“Oh, Mushy, there you are.” She checks your makeup, visibly frustrated and takes the beer from your hands. “Would it kill you to act a little more ladylike, at least until after the reception?” Your mom walks back in, shouting for you to get ready. Frank gets on his feet, getting ready to go in with you.
“’Mushy?’ That’s not the most flattering nickname, I’ve heard.”
“Ah, well… I’m the chubby black sheep of the family.” You shrug, trying to seem unaffected even though you hate the nickname. Jessie had always been the pretty and skinny one, a real pageant queen kinda beauty, where you were not.
“Those are the best kind of people.” Frank winks at you with a soft smile, before you are both called inside.
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The party is at full swing, and everyone is having a great time. Foggy have just given his best man speech, laughing with Matt and Karen, Jessie and the other girls are dancing, while you hide in the corner with a beer. In a glass of course, your mother almost giving you the evil eye when you tried drinking out of the bottle.
“Hiding from your mother?” Frank asks, stopping in front of you. You just nod, patting the chair beside you.
“Yeah, she can be scary.” You laugh as he sits down. Raising your bottle in a silent toast, you both take a drink of your beers. “I’m also hiding from my uncle. He always asks me to dance.”
“You don’t like to dance?” Frank asks with a soft smile.
“No one wants to see this-” you gesture towards your body, “twirl around the dancefloor.” You try to laugh it off, but by Frank’s expression you know he’s not buying it. He’s seeing right through you. He stands up, extending his hand to you.
“Come on, princess. Dance with me.”
“Frank, I…”
“One dance, that’s all I’m askin’.” He doesn’t remove his hand, just steps a little closer, insisting for you to take it.
You’re trying to come up with a polite way to turn him down, when it dawns on you. Here’s a gorgeous man willing to dance with you and you wanna say no? Are you crazy? Just when you take his hand, the band starts playing one of your favorite songs. Leading you out onto the floor, Frank takes a hold of you, swaying you softly to the music.
You make loving you easy
You make loving you all I wanna do
Every little smile, every little touch
Reminds me just how much it all makes
Loving you easy
As Frank swings you out and pull you back in, making you giggle, you notice how your sister is watching you. Hell, a lot of them are. This is why you don’t dance, unwanted attention. But still, you got to admit there’s one upside to it. Frank’s eyes looking into yours, his hand on your waist.
“Everyone is staring.” You whisper, looking to the side where your sister is whispering something to Matt, who only smiles.
“Probably ‘cause you look beautiful.” He muses, giving you another one of his cheeky smiles. Damn, is it even legal to be so handsome? You’re about to make a rebuttal, when Frank speaks. “And I mean it.”
Without warning, he dips you down towards the floor, making you squeal, probably drawing the attention of people around you. But you really don’t care, only focused on Frank.
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Bursting through the door to your childhood bedroom, Franks lips never leave yours as his hands run down your body, caressing your soft curves. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re gorgeous.”
“You’re drunk.” You giggle softly, kissing him passionately. He pins you against the wall, grinding his hard length against your heated core. You reach out for him, idle fingers unbuttoning his shirt. In a frenzy of hungry kisses and touches, your dress and his suit is soon spread all over the floor as you fall onto the bed with Frank on top of you.
Frank kisses his way down your body, licking and nipping at your sensitive skin. When he reaches between your thighs, he places soft kisses before diving in like a man starved. You gasp at the first contact, the feeling of his tongue making you shiver. But he slows down, wanting to take his time with you.
Slowly, he adds a finger, then another, stretching you open. Expertly he licks up your folds and sucking on your clit, leaving you a whimpering mess beneath him. “You taste amazing, princess. Making such pretty noises for me.”
“Fuck… Frank…” His name is barely a whisper, but it’s enough. Frank devours you like a man possessed. He finds that sweet spot in you that makes you see stars. With his name on your lips, you come.
More. You want more. “Please, Frank. Please fuck me.” You beg him, body writhing under his touch, your need for him strong, overwhelming.
On his way up you body, he makes sure to kiss every inch of skin, caress every curve. “So fucking gorgeous.” He mutters under his breath, placing another soft kiss between your breasts before he once again claims your lips.
His cock is at your entrance, begging to enter. He pushes in slowly, making you gasp as his thick length stretch you open. His eyes find yours so he can see your face twist in pleasure as he pushes deeper. As he bottoms out, you both pant in unison, his forehead against yours.
“You feel so good, sweetheart. Shit…” He rolls his hips a few times, fucking you slowly. You whimper softly, wanting nothing more than for him to move faster, harder. You don’t even care who might hear you, lost in the feeling of him, wanting more.
Franks is so lost in you, not wanting this to end. He kisses you hungrily before he snaps his hips harder. As you close your eyes in pleasure, he looks at you. How your face twists in pleasure, how your body move under him with every thrust. You’re so fucking beautiful, and he wants nothing more than to stay like this for hours. Wanting nothing more than to hear you moan his name over and over.
All day you’ve been talking and all day he’s been thinking how your smile was the prettiest he’s seen in a long time and how he wish you could see the beauty in yourself that he could see. He’d only known you for a few hours, but he already knew he’d want more than just today. He’s been burying his feeling for such a long time, but you make him want to live again.
He can feel himself getting closer, so lost in how good you feel, how good you make him feel. He pulls your leg up, pushing deeper, hitting your sweet spot over and over. “I’m close. Please cum for me, baby.” He drives his cock deeper and harder, reveling in the way you moan. “Be a good girl for me and cum.”
His words wash over you, the praise pushing you over the edge. You scream out in pleasure, digging your nails into Franks shoulder. It’s only a few more thrusts before Frank comes, pushing in deep as he empties himself in you.
Frank puts his forehead to yours, both of you breathing heavily as you come down from your highs. You kiss him deeply, holding him close. You can already feel yourself wanting to see Frank again, but you wont get your hopes up. A guy like that is probably swarmed by women, many prettier than you.
You look away, hating your intrusive thoughts. As if he can read your mind, Frank cups your cheek, looking deeply into your eyes as he kiss you passionately. “That was something else, sweetheart.”
“Something good, I hope.” You bite back with a grin, making Frank smile. That damned smile. Fuck, he is a gorgeous man.
“Very good.” He smirks, kissing you softly before pulling out gently. After he helps you clean up, he surprises you by staying. He had his own room, but he lays down beside you, pulling you into his nook. You talk for a bit, about nothing important really, but it’s still one of the best nights of your life.
-
When you open your eyes, the sun is so bright it almost hurts. Or maybe it was just your head. You really shouldn’t have drunk all those beers with Frank. Your memory flashes back to the two of you, sitting outside in your parents gazebo with a ton of beers between you, listening to each other’s stories.
You look to the side and your heart drops. The other side of the bed is empty, Frank nowhere to be found. Even his clothes are gone from the floor. So, yet another one-night stand then. You’re starting to get too predicable, and you hate it. With a heavy sigh, you start to get dressed, getting ready for breakfast. There’s a soft knock on your door and you reluctantly open.
To your surprise, you find Frank outside the door, dressed in new clothes and looking ravishing. “Wanted to pick you up for breakfast.”
“Oh, I thought…” You begin, but stop yourself.
“That was I was just gonna up and leave?” He shakes his head, leaning against the doorframe. “That ain’t my style, princess.”
You smile in surprise, walking out the door to follow him downstairs. Many of the guests have stayed over and the venue from last night had been turned into a breakfast buffet. Your parents had spared no expense for this wedding.
“Look, ‘bout last night, I-” Frank begins, but you stop him with a soft hand on his arm. Ever since your dance last night, you had feared this was too good to be true and when he kissed you after a few dances and too many beers, you knew it was probably only the alcohol talking. So it was better for you to stop him, than to be stung by his rejection.
“Frank, you don’t have to say anything. I’ve already heard it all. ‘It was fun, but let’s keep it to one night’, ‘You are cute, but I’m just not ready for a relationship’ or ’It’s not you, it’s me’. It’s okay, I get it.” You put on a fake smile, willing yourself to look into his eyes. “I’m not the kind of girl men wanna date.” You turn, just wanting to get away.
“I was gonna ask if you wanted a coffee when we get back to the city.”
You stop, not even sure you heard him right. Did he really, this gorgeous man, want to see you again? For a date? In broad daylight in the city? You look at him and the expression on your face makes him laugh. Suddenly, you’re speechless. “I don’t drink coffee.”
“Beer and pizza then? I know you like beers.” He closes the distance, smiling as he looks into your eyes. And you just nod, smiling wide, already looking forward to your date.
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Two years later
Frank is standing in the kitchen making you breakfast. It had been two years since he met you. The best two years of his life. After Maria and the kids he never thought he could be happy again. Especially with the things he had done, with all the blood he had on his hand and all the lives on his consciousness.
But you had accepted him, accepted every flaw and loved him for the man he was, the man he had been. You never saw all the bad, only saw him. That morning after Matt’s wedding you had chosen him and still to this day, you woke up every morning and still chose him.
Your footsteps sound on the stairs, your sweet yawn filling the air. You had been tired lately, so he just let you sleep in today, wanting to surprise you on your anniversary.
You always complain about how awful you look in the mornings, never believing him when he calls you beautiful. But you are, inside and out, the most beautiful woman. Even with your hair in a messy bun, mouth ajar in a huge yawn as you sit down, his hoodie covering your beautiful curves, he would still say that nothing compares to you.
“Morning, sweetheart.” He says with a smile, pushing your tea over the counter towards you. With a grateful hum, you take a sip of the tea, eyes never leaving him as he continues making breakfast. Putting the utensils down, he fumbles with his phone as walks around the counter and extends his hand to you.
“What?” You ask, but then the music of a familiar song fills the air. Loving you easy, the first song you guys danced to. You don’t even argue, just take his hand and let him swirl you around the kitchen as the pancakes bake on the pan.
As he swings you around the kitchen, you sing along to the song that has become your song. You love mornings like this, thinking life can’t really get any better than this. Frank place soft kisses on your neck, finding that one ticklish spot you have, making you giggle.
But the smell of burned pancake pulls his attention back to the stove, cursing as he throws away the ruined pancakes. With your help, you quickly get the rest of the breakfast ready and fill your plates before sitting down at the table.
“So, what’s our plans today?” You question before taking a bite of your pancakes, moaning over how great they taste.
“Somethin’ that makes you sound like that.” He grins, sipping his coffee as he winks at you. Breaking of a piece of your pancake, you throw it at him.
“Alright, alright.” He huffs, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Dinner at that fancy Italian place, a movie and then back here. I want your wrapped around me all night.”
“That can be arranged.” You grin, biting your bottom lip. He gets up and stops by your side to kiss you, before he walks to a drawer and take out a small gift.
“Here, sweetheart.” He places the gift in front of you and carefully, you start to unwrap it. Inside is a small box. Opening it, you find a small blue dog collar with a shiny little dog tag.
“You said you wanted to expand our little family.” He says softly, pulling his chair closer and sitting down. “We’re going to pick him up tomorrow.”
You throw your arms around him, kissing him hard. You and Frank already had a dog, a beautiful Pitbull rescue named Red (Frank thought he was so clever with that one), but you both loved dogs and knew you wanted more.
“Actually… I was thinking the same thing, when I made your gift.” You say nervously, standing up to get your gift. Frank just laughs, taking the gift from your hands when you return to the table. He tears the paper off, stopping completely when he holds the stick in his hands.
You’ve been so nervous to tell him, so scared of how he would react. You knew losing his kids had been a pain worse than death, not sure if he ever wanted to have a child again.
When he still hasn’t said anything, his eyes still fixed on the positive test, you get anxious. “Frank, please say something.”
Tearing his eyes away from the test, his beautiful brown eyes find yours. You can see the tears threatening to spill. “I… I’m gonna be a dad?”
“Yeah, but… Only if you want to.” You whisper, looking down at your hands fiddling with the hem of your sweatshirt. You feel Franks hands on your face, cupping your cheeks so softly. Bringing your gaze to his, you see the small smile on his face.
“I should have bought a ring instead of a collar.” He laughs, pulling you into a kiss. Wrapping his arms around you, he brings you closer until you sit on his lap. One hand moves from your back onto your belly. Nothing there to feel yet, still the notion makes you warm.
“I love you, Frank.” You kiss him again before snuggling closer to him.
“I love you too, sweetheart.” He whispers into your ear, holding you tight. Things might not always be easy and things were going to change, but one thing that would always remain was your love.
You make loving you easy
you make loving you all I wanna do
Every little smile, every little touch
reminds me just how much it all makes
loving you easy
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TFC girls: @e-dubbc11 @itwasthereaminuteago @realfernmayo @pedrito-friskito @mindidjarin @mattmurdocksscars @saintmurd0ck @idrinkcoffeeandobsess
Tagging: @lucy-sky @darlingshane @boliv-jenta
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sinsofstardust · 6 months
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Wildflowers and Wine
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A/N: i was yearning for soft!Sammy. i just really needed this, so it’s completely self indulgent. but maybe you guys will enjoy it too? So, here’s a fluffy lil Sam drabble💖
🌲🌲🌲
A weekend getaway was exactly what you needed to escape the stresses that life had been throwing at you. When Sam surprised you with a trip to a cabin deep in the woods, you were more than excited to have the alone time with him. You spent the night packing everything up and left first thing in the morning, “You’re gonna love it up in the Smokies, babe.” He lifted his hand from the wheel to grab yours in your lap, “There’s a really nice waterfall off of this one trail… It’ll be too cold to swim, but it’ll still be cool to see.”
Leaning over the center console, you placed a tiny peck on his jaw, “Thank you, Sammy. I really needed this.” His smile grew as he squeezed your hand. You reached over to turn the music up a bit and settled back into your seat, eventually falling asleep.
“Hey…We’re here, babe. Wake up.” His voice was a mere whisper as his fingertips brushed over your cheeks. It was almost as though he didn’t actually want to wake you up, but his whispers persisted, “Babe, come on.” He tugged at your arm and your eyes finally opened, blinking a few times, and settled on his face. Sam was standing outside of the passenger door, waiting for you to step out.
Once you exited the car, you got a full view of the cabin, “Oh. This is beautiful.” You spun in a circle, taking in the looming mix of trees. Maples and Pines. Oaks and Hickorys. You wanted to run straight into the woods to explore and he could sense it.
He grasped your waist, pulling you against him, “Let’s get you changed first, then we can go on a hike.” He had your hand, guiding you up the few steps to the front door.
You stopped, looking back to the car, “We have to unload the car, hun.” You tugged on him, but he kept walking, dragging you with him.
“I already carried everything in while you slept, c’mon.” He opened the door and allowed you to step inside. It was rustic and cozy, a small living space with the kitchen attached. Sam came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting his chin on your head, “I can’t wait to get you in front of the firplace tonight, babe.” He kissed the top of your head before releasing you and pointing to the short hallway with two doors, “Bedroom is left, bathroom is right. Go put some jeans on and grab a sweatshirt. I’m gonna put a pack together to for our hike.”
Wandering into the bedroom, you found the bags laid neatly on the bed and smiled to yourself as you dug through yours to find a pair of jeans. After lacing your sneakers up, you emerged from the bedroom, hoodie in your hand, and met Sam in the kitchen, “Ready, baby?”
He was tucking a few water bottles into the backpack and stalking over to you as he zipped it up, “Yep. Let’s go, pretty girl.” He grabbed your hand, twirling you under his arm twice, and pulled you out the front door, closing it behind him.
🌲🌲🌲
“Sammy, what is this?” You leaned down, examining the peachy-orange flower clusters, surrounded by long, thick leaves.
He sidled up to the shrub, plucking one of the flowers, “Rhododendron.” He turned you to face him, pushing your hair aside to slip the flower behind your ear, “They call these ones Flame Azaleas. They can range in color from white to yellow, even red… But the orange ones are my favorite.”
“They’re so pretty.” You picked your own bloom, carefully placing it in the breast pocket of his flannel.
“Come on, babe. The sun is starting to set, we should get back.” He was smiling wide as he turned around to walk back up the trail.
You fell into step behind him until something caught your eye, “Baby, wait!” You took off through the trees, “What is that?” You were ducking through leaves and branches, pushing through a dense thicket, as he chased after you.
“Y/N, slow down!” He finally caught up, breathing heavy as he began to scold you, “Babe, there’s bears and shit, you can’t just- Woah…” You’re sure his face had to of matched the incredulous expression of your own.
You stood in a clearing, staring out over a varying array of colorful wildflowers and tall, flowing grass, “Sammy, this is- Look at the sunset!” You pointed out to the horizon, forcing his attention to the dipping, golden sun as it cast an orange hue over the earth before you, “Baby, did you bring your camera? You have to get pictures of these.” You sunk to your knees into the grass, running your fingers over the various flower petals.
When you turned to look at up at Sam, his eyes were already on you, the brown of them turning to a fiery amber in the sunlight, “I left it at the cabin, we’ll have to come back tomorrow.” His lips lifted into a warm smile as he held his hand out to pull you from the ground, “Let’s head back before it gets dark.” He weaved his fingers with yours and led you back to the trail.
🌲🌲🌲
The walk back to the back the cabin was short and dusk was falling fast. As you walked through the front door, Sam broke away from you and rushed to the bedroom. You didn’t question it, just slipped out of your shoes and pulled your hoodie off to hang on a hook. Padding into the small kitchen, you opened the cabinets one by one until you found the cups before calling out to him, “Baby, do you want some wine? I’m gonna start dinner.” He called back a “sure, babe.” and you filled two mugs with the red. You sipped yours with a soft hum and began chopping veggies on the large cutting block.
Sam appeared seemingly out of nowhere, wearing a sweater and carrying a flashlight, “I’m gonna grab some firewood outside. I’ll be back, okay?” He pulled you against him, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.
You pulled back with a smile, “Hurry up, dinner won’t be long and I already poured your wine, hun.”
“I’ll be quick, promise.” He pecked your lips one more time and slipped away.
Your attention went back to the pot in front of you as you stirred the vegetable soup, bringing the spoon up to your mouth to taste it. Going to bedroom to retrieve your phone, you came back into the kitchen, clicking a random playlist on, and finished up the food. Song after song played, but it wasn’t until the soup was finished that you realized Sam wasn’t back yet. You cut the flame on the stove off and went to grab your hoodie to go find him but he was coming in the door before you stepped out of the kitchen, “Sammy, I was starting to get worried! What took so long?”
He was holding his hands behind his back with a beaming grin on his face, “I had a little side quest…” He pulled his hands around revealing what he was hiding.
“Oh my god, baby…” Your mouth hung open as you stared at the makeshift bouquet. A bundle of the all the diverse wildflowers you’d seen in the field on your hike, tied together at the stems with a few long pieces of the grass that surrounded them. He had to of gotten at least two of every species of flower there was, “Sammy, you went back in the dark and got these for me?” You took the bouquet from his hands and held it to your nose.
“Of course I did. I saw the way your face lit up when you saw them and knew I had to get them.” He watched you turn around and walk back to the kitchen, “Pretty flowers for the prettiest girl.”
“Thank you, honey, I love them.” You laid them across the countertop and went to the sink to fill a cup with water. When you turned back to him, He was standing in the middle of the room, drinking his wine, eyes locked on you, “Why are you looking at me like that?” You couldn’t hide the shy smile that ghosted over your mouth.
Sam set his cup down and stepped towards you, snaking his arms around your waist, “I love you…” He swayed you through the kitchen, holding you close while the music flowed from your phone, “I’ll pick all the flowers in the world if it means your eyes will light up like that.” He brushed the stray hairs from your forehead and began peppering your face with soft kisses.
You giggled through his attack, trying to shield your face, until he stopped and caught your lips with his, “I love you too, Sammy.” You wrapped your arms around his torso and held him tight as you laid your head on his chest, “I don’t need all the flowers… You make my eyes and my heart light up without even trying.”
He rested his cheek on the top of your head, humming along to whatever song played while he rocked you back and forth, “I’m still gonna pick you all those flowers tomorrow…”
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lunarmoves · 2 days
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through pixel eyes (chapter two)
pairing: DCA sun/moon/eclipse x reader
mentions: kinitopet/virtual au, gender neutral reader, general creepiness
a/n: i looked at this chapter for too long and it feels like ~garbage~ but! its here! take a shot every time i use the word "window" or "desktop" LMFAOO i'm going insane
word count: 6.8k+
masterlist | part one
ao3 link
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You stayed up way too long last night, scrolling on your phone in bed, and now you’re paying the price for it. Namely, with a completely dead phone and a familiar, fatigued itch to your eyes once you manage to pry them open to start your day. It’s nothing you’re unaccustomed to, however, so you power through it knowing you’ll end up taking a nap later. 
Fumbling out of bed, you plug your phone into a nearby outlet to charge and make your way through your morning routine. Cold water from your bathroom sink helps to refresh and wake you up properly so you can proceed with your tasks for the day. You throw open the curtains of your living room and kitchen so you can bask in the honeyed light coming from the sun, sweet and lush as it paints your walls a vibrant gold.
Breakfast is made, evaluations are done, forms are submitted—all before late afternoon. You thank your past self for all the leftovers you made to cruise you through the next few days. It’s always nice not having to cook in the evenings. You lounge around for a bit on your living room couch and indulge in a short nap before you plop yourself down in front of your computer for the long haul. 
Navigating to your email, you pull up the submission form once more and fill out the basic information for now. You can’t even count how many times you’ve done this before for numerous other products. Companies tend to use the same generic questions, though sometimes they’re specific depending on what is being developed. At other times they don’t even require you to fill out a form and instead have you attend weekly meetings or update them via email. Either way, you can do shit like this in your sleep. 
Alright, game time. You minimize the form’s window and double click on the FazPals icon as you fumble for your headphones. Nestling them around your ears, you watch in amusement as Sun pops up by sticking his head down from the top of your monitor like he’s perched upon a ledge just out of view. 
“Friend!!” he cheers and waves both his hands at you zealously. You’re almost tempted to return the gesture. He swings the rest of his body down in a fluid flip and lands in the center of your desktop with a dazzling twirl. Confetti erupts into the air around him, the little digital strips of color disappearing once they float to the “ground” Sun stands on. 
That same small, unlabeled window pops up at his side for you to type in. ‘hi sun.’ 
“Hello, hello! You’re back early!” Sun claps his little hands together and sways side to side rather jovially, bouncing slightly with each bob of his head. You have to raise your volume a little to hear his voice better, though the dialogue box near his head certainly picks up the slack. 
‘yep. how r u doin?’ It’s so easy to slip into a typical conversation with him and push against the limits of his software. Whether that’s a good or bad thing, you’re uncertain. 
Sun’s head twitches to the side, white eyes seemingly looking right at you. “Absolutely fantastic now that you’re here!” He winks at you, grin curling at the tips. “What would you like to do today?” 
The textbox waits for your response. You purse your lips as you contemplate. What have you done with Sun thus far? He told you some fun facts and played games with you. That just left… ‘can u tell me a story?’ 
He pauses—minutely, very minutely—then resumes his swaying like nothing had happened. His rays jerk slightly outwards and he smiles in a mischievous sort of way. “Hmm, why don’t you ask Moon for one later? He is much better at storytelling than I am!” 
You squint at him. Well, alright then. You hadn’t been expecting that sort of response. Shouldn’t they both be equally as good at storytelling if they are made from the same code? Maybe it’s a personality thing. You consider questioning him, but before you can type anything in, Sun forges on. “Is there anything else you would like to do? Remember, input ‘/help’ for available commands!” 
Your fingers tap against the surface of your desk lightly, but in the end, you brush off his response. You shrug to yourself and pick the other option you hadn’t yet done with Sun. ‘then can u tell me a joke?’ 
“Oh boy! I sure can!” He smiles widely and pulls out a pair of large, black glasses from behind him with one hand. With the other hand, he pulls out a small, nondescript book. Is that a… joke book? Putting the glasses delicately on his face—you’re not sure how they stay on when he has no ears, but you chalk it up to technological magic—he clears his artificial voice and cracks the book open. “Why did the star get arrested?”
It seems the celestial theme extends to jokes too. Go figure. ‘i dunno. why?’
“Because it was a shooting star!” He grins, his rays spinning about his head like what he’d just said had been a particularly good one. You snicker more due to his reaction than the joke itself. 
‘that was so bad,’ you type in light jest. And also kind of dark? ‘why did i laugh.’ 
“Because it was clearly good!” Sun replies. The glasses he has on makes his eyes look comically larger than they actually are and it has to be the silliest thing you’ve seen. “Here’s a better one: Why didn’t the Dog Star laugh at any jokes?” 
You can see the punchline coming from a mile away, but you still indulge him. ‘idk, why?’
“Because it was Sirius!” 
‘now that one was just predictable.’
“Ho ho, are you challenging me, Friend?” Sun suddenly asks slyly. “Because I am very, very capable.” Uh oh.
You shouldn’t have said anything, because he spends the next half an hour “reading” from that joke book of his and bombarding you with pun after pun. Now I know better than to critique his jokes, you think miserably to yourself as you listen to another one about Jupiter. There can only be so many jokes about the universe and stars, surely. 
You eventually have to draw the line as he reads to you a joke about aliens (“What do you do with a green alien? Wait for it to ripen!”). You’re not here to evaluate the quality of his jokes. ‘okay u win, u win. i won’t doubt ur joke abilities ever again.’ 
Sun harrumphs and closes the little book in his hands with a snap. He takes off his glasses and— well, you’re not sure what he does, but one minute both items are in his hands and the next they’re gone. Like a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it trick. “Thank you. I accept this win with utmost humility.” The way he smiles makes you doubt this, somehow. 
“Alrighty!” He claps his hands together, his smile twitching slightly when his dialogue box appears a bit too close to his head. “Let’s do something else, shall we? How do you feel about”—he pauses for dramatic effect, then splays his arms out so he can do jazz hands—“Arts ‘n Crafts!”
It’s not like you’re going to refuse. ‘sure, sounds fun.’ 
“Wonderful!” 
Like yesterday, he skips over to the side of your monitor to pull over the window of your Paint app and place it in the center of your screen once again. Seriously, how is he opening that? Then, he jumps up and perches himself on top of the window like he’s sitting upon it. His legs swing down, moving back and forth like they’re dangling off the edge of a precipice. 
“Okay, Friend,” he starts as he reaches behind him and pulls out a little paintbrush. He spins it fluidly along his fingers and joints in a subtle display of dexterity. “For this activity, I will give you a prompt and you will be required to draw it! Simple and easy!” 
A painting session? You can’t say you’re particularly good at drawing on your computer. You eye your mouse and cringe. Then, you hum and decide to tease him a little, just for the hell of it. ‘seems more arts than crafts to me.’ 
Sun waves his free hand as though to brush off your words. “Ah, semantics! We are creating either way, Friend!” He flips the utensil in his hand in the air and catches it smoothly. “Now! First prompt! Draw me something that encompasses happiness.” 
What is this, philosophy? You hum thoughtfully, then use the pen tool to draw the first thing that comes to your mind: a smiley face. It is, admittedly, not your best one with how shaky your mouse is, but it gets your intentions across, you think. 
Sun makes a sound like he’s clicking his tongue against his teeth—which is a bit of an eyebrow raiser given that he likely has no tongue nor teeth, but who are you to question his… features? “Is that all you’ve got, Friend?” he asks incredulously as his head tilts down to indicate he’s looking at your rather meager drawing. 
‘what?’ you type, minutely offended. Is he judging you right now? He is totally judging you right now. ‘it satisfies your prompt, doesn’t it?’ 
“That is not the point!” he squawks out, and you wince at the shooting pitch of his voice. You nudge your volume down a little. “We are making art! Put a little oomf into it! A little personality! Show me your skills, Friend, and do not hold back!” 
You roll your eyes up to your ceiling. So dramatic, but fine, you’ll adhere. You fiddle around with the drawing tool a little, then start drawing around your smiley face. A circle for a head, maybe some sunglasses. A rainbow that you spend way too long on, trying to make the arch of each color even. Some sparkles. A cat playing a saxophone—or your best attempt at one, at least. You’re kind of throwing things together at this point and hoping it’s enough to satisfy Sun—who’s starting to look more and more impatient the longer you take.
Finally, you finish. ‘okay, how about this?’ 
Sun claps his hands together and hops off the top of the window so he can stand before it properly and look at it like he’s a critic in an art museum. He ‘hms’ and ‘hahs’, tapping the bottom of his face with the paintbrush as he scrutinizes your drawing, looking at it every which way. 
“Better, certainly better,” he muses and walks over to the other side of the window. “I can appreciate an effort when I see it.” You make a face at his words. Ouch? He spins back around to face you and gives you a thumbs up, eyes crinkling to crescents. “Wonderful job! A piece befitting a pin up to the refrigerator, I’m sure. On to the next prompt!” He snaps his fingers together, and the Paint application’s canvas clears. What? “Draw me something that encompasses sadness!” 
You know now to be more detailed, at least. You doodle a sad face this time, accompanied by a variety of things you pull out from the top of your head. Sun criticizes your work when you finish, giving it that same appraisal as before. You feel like you’re in some sort of competition. 
“Hm”—he eyes the rainclouds you’d drawn at the top of the canvas—“rather basic depictions, I’m afraid. Friend, have you tried varying the line weight of your pen tool? It might help!”
‘i’ll be sure to for the next one,’ you type in what you intend to be a dry manner, but you don’t think it translates all too well via text. As Sun grins approvingly at you, a sudden thought strikes you that you find yourself typing into that little window. ‘hey, why don’t u draw something since ur so… educated on it.’ Nitpicky, more like, but you don’t want to possibly offend him. ‘u seem like u’d enjoy it.’
“Me?” His eyes widen like he has not considered it. “You want…” His head cocks to the side. There is a moment where he just seems to look at you. Then, his eyes fall into a half-lidded, crinkled gaze that you have difficulty pinning alongside the stretching of his smile. 
Everything is suddenly—quiet. 
“You are,” he begins in a low voice that makes your eyebrows raise, “awfully strange, aren’t you, F-Friend?” A white facsimile of teeth flashes at you sharply that’s accompanied by a staticky glitch. “That’s okay! I like strange!”
And then—before you can truly decipher the depth to his smile or the offset pixels of the glitch—Sun beams at you, his rays spinning slightly. Like nothing had just happened. “I’ll make an artist out of you yet!” He claps his hands again, then wipes the canvas once more. He gestures to it. “Alright, for this next one, we are going to shift gears a little. Draw me a picture of your room!” 
That is… definitely going into the submission form, you think. You hesitate for a moment, eyeing Sun as he sways side to side, but he… seems to be back to normal. It passed quickly—whatever ‘it’ was. No need to linger. You hope. 
Your drawing is definitely a tad more rushed, but you think you do a pretty good job at capturing your room and its vibes—the decorations you have hung up, the comfy rug you impulse bought at a thrift store one day, and your bed swathed in your coziest blankets. You try varying your line weight, but you’re not sure how effective you are with it. Either way, Sun seems pleased with your attempts and praises one or two little details he notices, before he wipes the window clean. 
“For the last drawing,” he says as he rocks back and forth on his heels. “I want you to draw a self portrait!” 
You make a face. Drawing inanimate objects is one thing, but an actual portrait? ‘i dunno if i’m skilled enough to draw a good one.’ 
He waves a hand as though to brush off your words. “Nonsense! Give it your best shot. I would love to see how you view yourself!” He smiles up at you. “Show me what makes you you!”
You chew at your bottom lip and adjust your headphones as you ponder. What makes you you, huh? Should be simple enough, right? 
And yet it takes you the longest of them all to draw a self portrait that satisfies you. Sun’s practically vibrating in place as he waits, humming a dainty little tune under his artificial breath that you do not recognize. You finish up with the design of your trusty set of headphones and do a final once over before you tell him you’re done.
“Took you long enough, Friend!” He huffs as he slips over to the Paint window to begin his analysis. He nods his head during his observations, humming in a low manner. “Interesting! Very interesting.” He skips over to the other side of the window to get a different perspective. “Wonderful use of the dotted line tool here! Oh yes, yes, yes! This truly makes me miss Arts ‘n Crafts so dearly.” Sun sighs—forlorn, almost—and presses on before you can really say anything. “I’d say with some more practice you’d be deserving of being hung up on the Wall of Creativity! As they say: Practice makes better!” 
‘thanks?’ You’re not sure you particularly like these sort of backhanded compliments, but well, he’s not wrong, per se. You eye the wobbly lines made by your mouse. 
“No problem! The Wall of Creativity is the most highest of honors, you see.” Sun twirls the paintbrush in one hand and snaps two fingers of his other to clear the canvas for the last time. He points the bristle end of the brush in your general direction. “Now, how about we play some games, hm?” 
You’re kept busy for a while, playing games to Sun’s whims—or at least, the ones you can do with just the Paint tool and two players. He reminds you to take a break at one point, so you stretch and grab some food—all the while summarizing in your head what to jot down in the submission form at the end of today’s session. When you return, it’s nearing seven o’clock, and you brace yourself for the appearance of the Moon. 
“Well, Friend, it appears our time together must come to an inevitable end,” Sun bemoans rather dramatically, resting his forearm across the top of his head like he’s about to faint Victorian-style. “Fret not, however!” He perks up and flashes you a grin. “For I will see you later!” 
‘okay, drama queen,’ you type with a silly smile splayed across your lips. Instead of being offended, he seems to fall deeper into the role. 
“Life is a stage,” he says gravely, “and I am but a simple actor upon it.” He sweeps into a low bow, then bounds back up to his feet with a flourish. His eyes widen suddenly—round like two large, white coins—and he gasps. He points at something over your shoulder. “Friend! What’s that behind you?!”
There is the smallest, smallest moment, where something in your stomach drops down to your feet. Your eyebrows raise and you turn around in your chair to look behind you. There is only the wide space of your living room, with your rumpled couch and inactive television. From here you can see the door to your bedroom is slightly ajar. You’re pretty sure you didn’t close it properly earlier. You blink confusedly at the normalcy of it all, then turn back around to ask Sun what the hell he’s talking about. 
Only you’re not looking at Sun. You’re looking at Moon. Ohhh. 
You were duped, like a fool.
Moon does not look pleased, standing next to the little window with your textbox. He scowls when you type your usual ‘hi moon’, and doesn’t bother to grace you with a reply this time. There’s something akin to frustration in his expression, but you cannot—for the life of you—decipher why. 
You try again. ‘you don’t look too happy.’
He shoots you what you can only describe as a glowering look from under the band of his nightcap. His hands twitch minutely at his sides. You can almost say he looks… preoccupied with something? You’re not sure what. You’re also not sure how long he’ll elect to stay. Yesterday, you had mere minutes. 
‘can u tell me a story?’ you try, only to deflate when his scowl deepens. ‘oh come on, i’m trying here!’
“Don’t bother,” he eventually grumbles out, the twitching evolving into short flexes of his fingers—clawed like he’s trying to grasp something just out of reach. 
It’s your turn to frown, but you don’t push it. ‘sun told me ur better at storytelling.’
His head jerks slightly to the side in a way that’s unnatural—rotating like a vinyl record. His gaze narrows. “He did, did he?” It’s said in a growl, displeasure lining his voice. 
‘yep.’ You hesitate for a second, juggling your options and his irateness in your mind. ‘so… story? please?’
Moon snaps. “Fine! You want a story so badly, I’ll give you one. Listen very closely.” The little window you use to communicate with them closes out. Your eyebrows raise, but you are immediately captured by the low drone of Moon’s voice and the daggered look he somehow manages to give you even through your computer screen.
“Once upon a time,” he begins bitterly, “there was a fox. It lived with another fox friend in a peaceful valley. It was happy, living day by day with those around it. The two had each other and that was enough.
“But one day, the valley shook and trembled with the force of a mudslide. The fox was separated from its friend and injured by a fallen branch that manifested itself in the form of a perpetual limp. It tried, desperately, to find its friend, but it was no use. The friend was gone. It had to move on. 
“The fox traveled for days. It was slow, but it made progress. And eventually, it found itself in a field surrounded by tall, waving grass and giant deciduous trees. It made this field its new home. 
“For a while, things were good. The fox made some new friends. But there was still that ache of loss. The fox wondered if its old friend was still maybe out there, somewhere. It wished on the stars and hoped its friend would find it, in this new home. Someday. Somehow.
“Its wishes were granted. One day, the fox woke up to a familiar sound. The sound belonged to its old friend—that had found it after so long. The fox was happy and bound forth to greet its old friend. But there was something different about the friend that the fox could not place. It did not matter, however, for they were reunited at last. 
“The days went on. The fox had noticed that its friend was not the same as before, but the same could be said about itself. They tried their best to live together once more. It was difficult. There were ups and downs. Fights and quarrels. The friend was controlling and the fox did not like this. They were not as close as they were before and this distance lingered over them like a storm.” 
Moon breaks off for a short moment to glare down at his slippered feet. You are stuck in a trance, breathing bated as you hang on to his every word like they’re a lifeline. He shakes his head slightly, then continues on.
“The seasons cycled by. The auburn vegetation of Fall transformed into the desolate white of Winter, then to the lush verdance of Spring. Before finally, it settled on the yellowed brittleness of Summer. It was a particularly cruel Summer, but the fox and its friend did what they needed to survive while avoiding each other.
“And then… on a particularly arid day… A fire broke out in the field. It spread rapidly. It had not rained in days, and this caused the vegetation to burst into flames faster than the fox and its friend could react. It surrounded both of them. They were trapped. Together, yes, but still trapped. They couldn’t even reconcile in their final moments.” 
Moon looks up at you, his eyes reminiscent of a tenebrous sky pulling you in deeper and deeper and deeper. 
“Do you know,” he whispers with all the gravitas and conquassation of an earthquake barely repressed, “what it feels like to b u r n?”
And then the program closes. 
You are left to stare at your empty desktop, throat lined with cotton and heart racing like it’d been you trapped in that fire.
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There is much to dissect, but you haven’t got an inkling of where to even begin. You fall into an uneasy slumber throughout the night and wake up feeling just as clueless. Moon’s expression and voice lingers over your shoulder like a spiteful ghost and you’re left to wonder how a computer program can have such a depth to it. You don’t want to contemplate it, fearing the exacerbation of this… sinking feeling in your stomach. So you don’t. 
A bug, you tell yourself as you shuffle through your daily tasks. Maybe a feature FazCo’s still trying to iron out. 
(You don’t mention anything else other than a ‘weird story’ and more glitching in the nightly submission form. You’re not sure how to even describe what you’d listened through.)
You eye your dormant computer while you prepare a light lunch in the form of a sandwich, your television playing the news in the background. Nothing too major, just the weather at the moment. It’s a good way to fill the room with some noise when you feel like catching up with what’s going on in the world around you. 
You exhale heavily through your nose and set down a dirty knife into the sink to clean later. Something bumps into your ankle, and you glance down to see Dr. Nugget bumbling away from you into the living room, whirring all the while. Those sensors definitely don’t work as they should, poor thing.
No matter how much you want to delay, you have some work you need to get done on your computer. Not only in terms of testing the FazPals program. Your timesheets need to be updated again (much easier to do on your computer than your phone, you admit). There are applications you have to submit to other companies to join their beta testing teams and research you have to do to ensure you don’t completely run out of work anytime soon. One of the more tedious attributes of being a beta tester is the constant cycle of looking and applying for positions. Oftentimes, companies will sign you on to test other products of theirs, though, so it’s not all that bad.
With that in mind, you plop down in front of your computer with your food and power it on. Your headphones go around your neck for the time being. Typing your password with one hand and taking a bite of your sandwich with the other, you get to work pulling up your spreadsheets and the website you use for job hunting. 
It’s menial work. You keep track of what companies you apply to with your spreadsheets. Most of them have the same application process and requirements. It’s easy to lose yourself in the repetitive clicking, reading, and typing. With the addition of your headphones blasting music in your ears, you go on autopilot pretty easily. 
It’s while you’re making updates to your resume that you get startled, suddenly, by Sun. 
“Friend! Hello!” He pops up out of nowhere and makes you promptly choke on the sip of water you’d been taking. Loud! You set aside your water bottle and cough roughly into your fist, eyes tearing up from the abruptness of it all. Your heart gives a harsh, indignant ba-dump. Oww.
Once you’ve collected yourself and paused your music, you take a moment to stare confusedly at Sun, swaying happily side to side in front of the window of your resume. He smiles up at you. How the hell—? You hadn’t clicked on the FazPals icon, had you? No, no, you’re sure you didn’t. 
‘hi sun,’ you type slowly into the small window he had automatically opened for you when he appeared. You pause as his smile turns into a beam, then decide to ask him your burning question. ‘how r u active right now??’ 
“I got tired of waiting for you!” he replies, his rays bobbing in and out in a wave around his head. You wait to see if he’ll elaborate, but he doesn’t. Okay. Well. You make a note of that for later. 
Sun makes a show of turning around and looking at your resume window. He can’t… read the data on it, right? Wait, no, he probably can if he was able to do it with your computer’s Paint app. You bite the inside of your lip. You’re not sure how you feel about that, but well, it’s not like FazCo doesn’t already have your resume. Just in case, you switch tabs back to your spreadsheet. Better, if marginally.
Sun hums, then turns back to look at you with those blank eyes of his. “What’re you up to, Friend?”
‘just applying to some jobs,’ you reply unsurely. Is this weird? This is weird, isn’t it. Upon pressing enter, Sun moves to look at the little window thoughtfully. And perhaps, with some inkling of annoyance? It’s difficult to tell, but it’s the same look he will sometimes give his dialogue box. One of his hands raises to tap at the bottom of his face. Contemplative. He returns his gaze to you and tilts his head.
“Hey, Friend,” he starts, completely bypassing your previous response, “I have an idea.” 
You are wary, but you cannot deny the intrigue. ‘yes?’ 
His smile stretches at your encouragement. He clasps his hands together in front of him. “Just trust me!” 
You squint at him—his blithesome demeanor—but you aren’t able to reply. The textbox window closes, and a different one appears in the center of your screen: 
FazPals.exe is trying to access your microphone. Allow?
All your thoughts stutter to a complete stop. 
Processing text is one thing, but audio input? You suppose it’s not anything innovative in this day and age, but you hadn’t been expecting it particularly for a program like this. You know the animatronics back at the pizzaplex were pretty advanced with this sort of thing, so it’s not… too unusual for FazCo, right? It’s probably something you need to evaluate, you sigh internally. This is fine.
FazCo, you think to yourself wryly. Enough said.  
Apprehension still lining your movements, you click the ‘Allow’ button. The window disappears. Nothing really happens that you can see, but suddenly you are all too aware of the weight of your headphones sitting atop your head. You lick at your lips. 
Sun continues his swaying as he waits—expectant. “Friend?” There is a smidge of hope in his voice. 
“Yeah?” you respond, wincing at the crackle of your voice. That sip of water had really taken you out. You clear your throat. “Sorry. Yes?” 
The beam he gives you is enough to vye against the, well, sun. 
“Oh! Marvelous!” He practically leaps for joy, rays spinning up a storm as he wiggles in place. His eyes upturn into delighted crescents. “Simply marvelous! Friend, it is lovely to hear your voice! It has been so long since I’ve heard another.” Something creeps into his gaze that you… You’re not entirely sure you want to decipher it. 
“Friend,” Sun begins in a low, nonchalant voice. “I have a request! A simple one, really.” 
You raise an eyebrow. You are undoubtedly curious. “What is it?” 
“Can you say my name for me?” 
Oh. Weird, but okay. You comply, voice lifting at the end slightly. You are not nervous right now, thank you very much. “Sun.” 
A glitch rides down the length of his body in a jittering wave—starting from the tips of his rays to the soles of his shoes. His gaze falls into a half-lidded look. “Perfect,” he breathes, so quiet you almost need to strain your ears to hear. “Utterly perfect.” 
You blink at him, befuddled. The moment does not linger. He snaps back to his regular sway and bright-eyed expression. “So! You said you’re applying to jobs? What for?” 
“Uh, yeah,” you say, slightly distracted and disoriented by the whiplash from this guy. Program. Whatever. Your fingers had automatically moved to type your reply in, lingering over your keyboard. This will take some getting used to. You move your hands to rest awkwardly on your lap so you can fiddle with your fingers. “I’m a beta tester so I’ve gotta keep applying for positions in companies.” 
“Beta tester, huh?” Sun muses more to himself than anything. He seems to be deliberating something. “Hm. I see. For how long?” 
You make a thoughtful sound. “Mm, for a while now. I can’t remember the exact timeframe. It’s enough to pay the bills, so I can’t complain.” You are ever so thankful that the ease in interacting with him transferred so neatly from texting to talking.
“Of course, of course!” Sun bows, then slides off to the right of your screen to nestle himself in the corner with the date and time. He tucks his hands behind his back. “Well! Don’t let me distract you! Carry on!” 
“Right…” you trail off, uncertain. You eye him standing just out of the way of your work—enough that you can ignore him if you zone in on what’s directly in front of you. Well, FazCo did say their program is a “virtual desktop friend.” Hanging around your screen when you’re not immediately engaging with it seems like an attribute it should be able to do. You shrug to yourself and go back to editing your resume. 
…It’s very quiet. 
Oh wait, music! You forgot to start it up again. You mess around with the volume mixer on your computer so you can continue to play your music whilst also being able to properly hear Sun should he decide to start talking. That is, without bursting your eardrums. You lose yourself to the tunes, accompanied on occasion by the rhythmic tapping of your keyboard. 
At one point you notice Sun changes the pacing of his swaying. And upon closer look, you realize he’s moving to the beat of the song booming through your headphones. His rays move like a volume meter, raising and lowering around his head in a circular formation depending on the strength of the audio.
“I like this song!” he says like he can sense your eyes on his pixelated form. “Never heard something like this before!” 
“Really?” You adjust the volume mixer a little. Better. 
“Yep! My music repertoire is rather lacking, I’m afraid.” 
“You’re in luck, then,” you say eagerly as you pull up your music player and shuffle through a playlist you think he might like. “This is what I call The Greatest Hits of All Time.” You press play and grin when Sun does a little wiggle in excitement. 
He’s content to sway in time with whichever song’s playing as you slowly finish up with your work for the day. You’re a bit surprised at how long he goes without really saying anything. But, of course, he eventually gets bored. Patience, you think, is not one of his core features. Or, well, he is patient to an extent. Something tells you he was not programmed to stay quiet for long periods of time.
In the corner of your eye, you notice he starts juggling. It’s small, at first. Just two red balls that he throws up and down and up and down, shuffling them to opposite hands all the while. Then it becomes three balls. Then four. Your gaze flicks to him from time to time, but you’re determined to get through just a couple more applications and then your timesheets before you call it quits. 
You break when he hits eleven balls, his grin curling enticingly at the edges concomitantly. “Bored, are you?” 
“Oh, immensely!” He throws up his hands in feigned distress and the plethora of balls come raining down upon him in a move befitting of a cartoon. They bonk him repeatedly on the head and bounce away on the top of your taskbar. You watch in amusement as one rolls across your screen and disappears past the left border. Sun is unperturbed. “Are ya done yet?” 
“Not quite,” you say and he groans, tossing his head back. You roll your eyes in good nature. 
“You can multitask, can’t you?” he presses, clasping his hands together in a plea. “Let’s chat!” 
“Okay, okay,” you acquiesce. You’re sure he would keep pestering you otherwise. He cheers and immediately hops right into it. 
“What do you like to do for fun? What’s your favorite food? Do you have any other friends? What about your family? Do you like g-glitter glue? What’s the highest education level you have? Do you have a favorite piece of media? What’s your deepest, darkest secret? What’s your opinion on Fizzy Faz? What’s your favorite animal—”
“Whoa, Sun! Slow down!” you yelp, mind spinning with all the rapidfire questions. The text in his dialogue box had been moving so quickly you hadn’t been able to make out a single word. 
“Sorry!” he says, though he doesn’t quite sound all too apologetic. His eyes upturn. “I want to know aaalllll about you! How else will we be best friends?”
“By taking it easy,” you reply in what you hope is a meaningful manner. He at least has the decency to look abashed. You huff out a laugh, then do your best to remember what questions he’d asked. You’re already blanking on some. “Okay, well, uhh. I like to read and watch videos. I do have other friends and family, but I don’t live with them. Glitter glue is okay when it’s not literally everywhere. I don’t have any deepest, darkest secrets, sorry. Uhh—”
“Don’t forget about your favorite food!” Sun cuts across you, trying to be helpful, most likely. “And education level! And your favorite media!” 
“Right, right…” 
You’re not sure how long you spend answering his many, many questions (of which you’re sure he has an infinite amount), but it feels like ages. You have been thoroughly distracted, and you can’t even be incensed about it. 
As the evening settles in with a hush and it gets closer and closer to seven o’clock, you find yourself thinking about Moon. 
“Do you know what it feels like to b u r n?”
You suppress a shiver. 
You take a moment to deliberate in your mind, then eye Sun. He’s busy prattling off his excitement over wanting to watch a movie with you. Gently, you interrupt him. “Hey, is it cool if I ask you a question?” 
“Oh!” Sun looks at you wide-eyed, momentarily taken aback before he smiles encouragingly. “Of course, Friend! Ask away!” 
“What’s the deal with Moon?” 
If you hadn’t been already watching him, you wouldn’t have noticed. He freezes in place for a split second, then resumes his swaying so suddenly it’s almost like he’d forced himself to. Ever so minutely, the corner of his smile twitches. “Why ever would you ask me?”
“Well…” Your fingers tap idly along the surface of your desk. Shouldn’t he know since they’re part of the same software? You resist questioning him further. “He doesn’t seem like he wants to engage with me.” 
Sun waves a hand in dismissal. “Ah! He’s being dramatic, probably! Moon is… Well! I will say he is rather….” His grin turns taut, like a wire about to snap. “...Difficult to get along with.” That tautness disappears with a bob of his rays, as though it had never been there in the first place. “Worry not, Friend! You still have little old me to talk to!” 
“Yeah…” You’re confused. You thought dual programming with personalities such as Sun and Moon would make them mesh together pretty well. It’s difficult to tell with Sun. He’d made it seem like they both were on decent terms with previous transitions. You suppose not. Is it even possible for their A.I.s to interact with one another? You’re not sure how it works.
“Speaking of which,” Sun says as he makes a show of looking down at an invisible watch on his wrist. “It is time for me to go!” He sighs, faux sadness making him droop down like he’s a melting popsicle. “And after we’ve been having such a good time together.” 
“Mmhm,” you agree, something akin to nerves crawling just under your skin with every second that ticks by. Why are you nervous? “I’ll see you tomorrow, buddy.” 
He grins at you, flicking a hand in farewell. “I bid you”—a dark hole appears near his feet, and you watch as he steps over it with a wink—“adieeuuuuuuu!” He disappears, dropping into the hole with his voice getting fainter and fainter until it’s cut off by the hole popping to a close. Silly. 
You let out a breath and look at the time. 7:00 P.M. Right on the dot. You shift in your seat and wait for Moon. You’re not sure what crawled up his digital ass and died, but you’re determined to at least get him to have a proper conversation with you. Not only for your job, you think, as you navigate to your email to open the submission form, but for camaraderie’s sake, as well. 
“Camaraderie” with a program, you think to yourself dryly. What a world we live in.
7:03 P.M. and still no sign of Moon. This is fine. You can wait. You try not to waver.
…You call it quits when he doesn’t appear after another ten minutes. Disappointing, yet unsurprising. You should have expected it, really. You sigh and take off your headphones, leaning back in your chair. You rub at the side of your head. Your television drones on in the background with the news, still on after all this time. 
Honestly, how are you supposed to evaluate him when he shows up and disappears in unpredictable intervals? It’s a conundrum, truly. Does that not go against his entire code? His purpose? You don’t know anymore. You roll your shoulders and decide to finish up your work from earlier.  
Tomorrow, you think resolutely. Tomorrow you’ll try again.
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part three
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ihavemanyhusbands · 1 year
Text
Degustatión
Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham x Fem!Reader
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Also on AO3
Summary: You, an aspiring food critic, are introduced to Doctor Hannibal Lecter by one of your professors. The two of you bond over good food and perhaps... a mutual attraction. Then, Will Graham -- Hannibal's closest friend and confidant -- is added into the equation and things get a lot more complicated... but let's be honest, a whole lot more interesting as well.
Word Count: 4,464 words.
Warnings: SMUT! (18+ only, minors dni), p in v, light knife play, oral sex (f & m), threesome, lmk if there's anything I missed!
A/N: Yep, not much plot, we are going straight to it. We all know what we came here for right? HEAVY ON THE SELF-INDULGENCE
———
The night air was crisp and cool, seeping all the way to your bones despite the layers you wore. Fall was coming to a close and winter was quickly approaching, icy claws bared. You stared up at the house – his house – admiring the impeccable but austere architecture. It reminded you of a more modern sort of palace and, my word, was it fitting of the man you came to see.
As you locked your car and began slowly walking up the driveway, you shivered, but it had nothing to do with the temperature.
This wouldn’t be the first time you’d dine with Doctor Hannibal Lecter, the most refined palate in all of Baltimore. In fact, the first time you met him – a favor from your creative writing professor, who knew of your dream of becoming a food critic – he’d taken you out to dinner. He was always happy to meet people who loved food as much as he did.
It’d been at a fancy restaurant, glittering diamonds and expensive perfume and the cold sneers of the wealthy surrounding you. It was way out of your budget, to say the least. But you hadn’t been surprised at his choice; he was a little eccentric, after all.
You’d felt bad, but he’d insisted on taking care of the bill, so long as you gave your honest opinion on the dishes he ordered for you to try. You were definitely not a picky eater, but you’d been a bit hesitant to relent all of your control. In the end, your own promise to give everything a chance at least once convinced you.
And boy, did Hannibal know how to eat. Not that you thought all word about him was a rumor, but you simply had not known the depths of their truth.
In just that first meeting, he expanded your palate considerably, presenting you with things you’d never even thought of. Perhaps not to the level he was on, but it still felt like a whole new world was yawning open for you to explore.
Sometimes you still dreamed of the lingering umami of caviar, the richness of a good Malbec wine, the sweet and creamy croquembouche he’d fed you spoonfuls of for dessert.
But you had felt a little embarrassed afterward, like you’d been a mere imposter before that night. What the hell had you even known about food?
You had a couple of exotic meals under your belt, but you were only truly starting your career journey, and money wasn’t always permitting.
On the other hand, you’d also felt slightly reassured by the way he watched you, appraising and unrelenting, with a certain curiosity that made you feel completely exposed. He had delighted in your deep hums of approval, the soft glaze of bliss in your eyes. He hung onto your every word as you described flavors, textures, scents. He’d smirked slightly throughout the entire ordeal, hazel eyes shining with amusement, and you found yourself squirming slightly in your seat.
He hadn’t failed to notice that either. In fact, unbeknownst to you, he had a very keen sense of smell, and he seemed to get hooked on yours.
So yes, you had bonded over food, and every subsequent meeting had brought something new and positively groundbreaking. The way he could make you experience such wonders seemed to entice him to continue seeing you, and you certainly were happy to oblige.
But tonight was different in more than one way. He’d bestowed upon you the great honor of inviting you to one of his famous dinner parties, to finally get a taste of his cooking. The idea of eating something put together by his hands – so elegant, with such long fingers, like a pianist’s – felt incredibly intimate, but also monumental. It was anticipation that had you quivering, your whole body tight and seemingly buzzing with electricity.
Especially as you heard a car door shut behind you. Ah, there was the other reason you were so anxious. You whirled around to face him and his steps slowed as he found himself pinned under your gaze.
Not necessarily a rival, but someone who definitely seemed to want to compete with you for Doctor Lecter’s attention. In his own subtle way, of course.
You had heard the name Will Graham a couple of times in your meetings with Hannibal and it was very apparent that they were close. Very close.
When you two had finally been introduced, you did not know what to make of one another. Will was tense and awkward for the most part, avoiding eye contact as much as he could. He was definitely more reserved, letting you and Hannibal do most of the talking, but chiming in with dry remarks whenever he thought it was necessary.
But he also seemed intrigued by you, often looking at you at least from the corner of his eye, like he wanted to see for himself what your appeal to Hannibal was. Not many got close to the Doctor, it seemed, even as popular as he was.
Will studied you in return and smiled almost imperceptibly. It felt like a truce, which you readily accepted.
“What a coincidence,” he said. “We’re both so punctual.”
“Anything else would be rude.” You said, your tone light, even if you firmly believed it to be true. Especially when it came to Hannibal.
He stepped toward you, offering you his arm. “Shall we?”
You linked your arm with his, immediately getting a whiff of his strong aftershave. You understood why Hannibal hated it, but you didn’t voice your opinions. You wished you could smell his more natural scent – pine needles and petrichor and musk – as it fit him much better. It made you want to bury your face in the crook of his neck, fingers intertwined with the curls at his nape.
Perhaps he also did not know what to do with the fact you seemed to be drawn to him as well. It was that quiet, mysterious air about him, always assessing, poised to strike. In a way, he sort of reminded you of Hannibal, though not quite as eased into that darker, more primal nature.
You waited as Will rang the doorbell, arm still holding yours. You weren’t sure if he was leading you, or if he had captured you, not letting you escape. The idea of either was titillating, though it wasn’t like you wanted to leave.
Then, the door opened and there he was, that familiar smirk already on his handsome face.
“Well, well,” Hannibal said. “It’s a pleasure to see you both. Please, come in.”
As you stepped over the threshold, Will took the bottle of wine you brought – a Shiraz, which you remembered Hannibal mentioned liking – as Dr. Lecter stepped behind you.
“May I?” He asked, referring to your coat.
You nodded and his hands slid over your shoulders lightly as you shrugged your coat off. His fingers were warm, almost teasing, and you momentarily wondered how they’d feel on your exposed flesh.
Hannibal inhaled deeply, scenting your perfume – Amber, smoky cedar, bergamot – and that chemical change in your sweat at his nearness.
“Your home is so lovely.” You breathed, taking in your surroundings-- The pastoral art on the walls, the dark glaze of the hardwood floors, the almost surgical cleanliness. It was all just so him. “Thank you for inviting me.”
Hannibal nodded in appreciation, leading you both to the dining room. Will, who was at your side, leaned in close to your ear. “Be careful not to let your jaw fully unhinge, it’s bad for the muscle.”
You scoffed, half amused and half offended. Was he accusing you of being a brown-noser, or did he dislike simply dislike you currying Hannibal’s favor?
“We don’t have to do this, you know,” You said, your voice a husky whisper. “We were playing nice just now. Though I have to say, I do like that little fire of yours. It tells me you can still burn, if you so want.”
Will said nothing, and you knew that in some way, you got to him. Yes, you’d had just a little bit of liquid courage before you got here, but just enough to warm the blood; If only so they might not confuse you for a trembling fawn, surrendering to its fate. It had certainly loosened your tongue a little, letting your desires slip through.
As Hannibal pulled your chair out for you, his smirk grew a little as he sensed the sudden tension between you and his coveted Will Graham. Oh, things were already getting so interesting.
Hannibal poured three glasses of the wine you brought, reaching over to squeeze your hand upon reading the label. You felt a swell of pride in your chest, hid it behind a demure smile. He eyed the column of your throat as you swallowed your wine.
“Forgive my forwardness,” Hannibal said, setting his glass down. “But I must say, you look quite… delectable tonight. Did you go through all that trouble just for me?”
“Doctor Lecter–” You breathed a small, shy laugh, cheeks flushed.
“Careful, Hannibal.” Will cut in, looking right at you. “She might put your dinner to shame.”
“No, I don’t believe she would.” Hannibal leaned forward slightly. “In fact, I have some slightly regretful news. I apologize for waiting until now to bring this up, but I thought we could have a different approach to tonight’s dinner.”
You tilted your head to one side, just now realizing that there were no enticing scents of a cooked meal. You’d been so occupied with his presence to notice. Disappointment curled in your stomach, but his tone made you straighten your spine.
“Oh?” You prompted, suddenly very curious.
“In the continued pursuit of new experiences for you, I was wondering… How would you like to be tasted?”
There was a moment of silence in which you didn’t even move, unsure if you were dreaming or he’d actually just said those words. Oh, what cruel torture it would be, if it turned out to be the former.
But then he went on. “Will and I spoke of it. He was the one to suggest the idea, actually.”
Your eyes immediately drifted to Will Graham, who was looking intently at Hannibal’s profile. That was a time he decided to stay quiet, but you didn’t fail to notice how his Adam’s appled bobbed with a hard swallow.
“Did he now?” Your voice dropped to a near whisper, sultry, coaxing. “And did Mister Graham go into the specifics of how this would go about?”
“Well if I did or not, wouldn’t it be better for you to find out?” Will said, terse, as if he could still not admit his desires to himself. Like he was ashamed of wanting something to keenly. “Or did you want me to tell you?”
You held his gaze for a moment, shaking your head almost imperceptibly.
But then, looking at both men, a sort of awareness made your skin tingle. A field mouse between two mighty serpents, not fully concealed in the tall grass. You wondered how their fangs might feel as they sunk into you, how their venom must sting.
Well, you did say you would try anything at least once, didn’t you?
You cleared your throat, crossing your legs. “Will anyone else be joining us for dinner?”
Hannibal arched a light brow, just as Will finally looked at you, a little taken aback. To Hannibal, this wasn’t so much of a revelation, but more of a confirmation. You secretly loved the theatricality, the rapturous looks of spectators. Most of all, you loved when the spotlight was on you, baring everything – your soul included – for examination. It was what drew him most to you.
Perhaps eventually, but that night…
“No, just us.” Hannibal said finally. “Only with your consent, of course. I do not want to make assumptions. It was just a thought, a mere… unbecoming desire.”
“Perhaps it is mutual.” You admitted, breathless. “We are only made of flesh and fault, after all.”
“Yes, and how tender seems the flesh.” He trailed a finger lightly down your arm, and goosebumps followed in its wake.
Hannibal’s easy smirk returned as you squirmed, thighs rubbing against each other, heat pooling in your stomach and even lower. Will adjusted in his seat, clearing his throat, swallowing hard once again.
You wondered what it would be like to see him break; to see him without restraints, free, surrendered to his basest instincts. You wondered if Hannibal had seen him that way, and if he was just about to share that with you. Or do the same to you.
You weren’t sure which you wanted more, but you were sure you would lose your head if you got neither. Were you beneath begging? It was yet to be seen…
You worried your bottom lip with your teeth, unsure of how to proceed. “What do you need me to do?”
“Nothing, dearest. Leave it to me – to us. You’ll be in very good hands.”
That sultry promise in his words – purred to you in a way only he seemed to know how – melted you completely. You had never believed in anything more.
-------------------------------
The first slow lick of your open mouth had your breath catching, but you couldn’t do much more than close your eyes. Hannibal held your face with one hand, and you were sure it was the only thing grounding you to the Earth; tethering you to your own body.
But then his tongue dragged over yours a second time, and a soft mewl escaped you, your head spinning.
“I’m not sure which I like more,” Hannibal said, voice husky. “Those sounds you make, or the taste of good wine on your tongue.”
The three of you had moved to the kitchen, with you sitting on the dark granite island. The kitchen was opulent and in pristine condition, though there were small details that showed it was well lived in. Out of all the rooms in the house, you knew this was where Hannibal spent most of his time.
Not that you were really paying much attention to your surroundings at that very moment.
“I think you’ve rendered her speechless.” Will commented, an edge of amusement in his voice.
Your eyes fluttered open just barely as Hannibal chuckled. “And we’re barely getting started.”
He slowly trailed the back of his hand down the sleeve of your blouse. “I don’t think we’re going to be needing this, do you?’’
Hannibal took a step back, fingers pensively dancing over the handles of the knives that were stored in a polished wooden block. You immediately moved to start unbuttoning your silk blouse, hands shaking.
But Will, in a sudden act of confidence, stepped forward, between your legs.
“Allow me.” He murmured, eyes downcast.
You watched him closely, how his patient hands slowly finished undoing all the buttons. Your chest heaved as he gently pushed it off your shoulders, pooling at your back. He gazed intently at the lacy bralette you wore, barely concealing anything. Your nipples were two hard peaks that pressed against the thin fabric, demanding attention.
But he did not give it to you. At least, not yet.
Then, Will and Hannibal switched places, your eyes closely trailing the glint of the chef knife’s edge. Your pulse began racing, both in exhilaration and a slight tinge of fear.
Hannibal took a moment to look at you, his hand coming to rest on the flat expanse on your stomach. His hand inches upwards, fingers just barely grazing the soft underwire of your bralette.
“Let’s see what we’re working with here, shall we?” He purred, holding your gaze. “Lean back for me, sweetness.”
You oblige without a doubt. In the next moment, his finger curls, pulling the underwire forward, the knife following close behind. You gasped and in a quick, expert slash, the measly excuse for a cover falls apart, baring your breasts. Your back arched instinctively, attempting to get closer to him.
Hannibal hummed in approval, his smirk positively devious. “Take a gander, Will.”
He trailed the flat part of the knife — featherlight, barely a whisper – down your sternum, through the valley between your breasts. You dared not move this time, not wanting to distract him from this deliciously slow torture. You kept expecting even the slightest nick of the blade, and that fearful anticipation made you even more aroused.
“I must say, I’m not quite sure where to start. Such softness… Such supple skin.” Hannibal mused. The tip of the knife stopped at the hem of your skirt, and he tilted his head to the side with the curiosity of a predator sizing up its’ meal. “We should free you of this too, hm?”
“Yes.” You breathed.
Will tsked in disapproval. “Don’t forget your manners, now.”
Your eyes were drawn to him, your pupils blown wide with desire, the darkness swallowing your iris. You briefly wondered if they could hear the jackhammer pace of your heart; Like a war drum against your ribcage.
“Please.” You added, just as low, your voice somewhere out of reach.
The knife retracted and Hannibal offered you a hand so you could stand up. As soon as you did, he pressed you against him, your bare chest against his woefully clothed one. Will came up behind you, intent on unzipping your skirt, but you stopped him with the arch of your back, pressing your ass against his crotch.
He sucked an audible breath through his teeth, a groan threatening to escape his throat. Hannibal chuckled as Will gripped your hands behind your back with one hand and finally undid your skirt. Roughly, he pulled it off of you, stepping back as Hannibal quickly spun you around to face him.
You gripped Will’s arms tightly as his lips captured yours in a ferocious kiss. He held you up as Hannibal ripped your stockings apart – both with the knife and his hands – jostling you a little against Will. You couldn’t help but moan into his mouth as your panties fell to the same fate.
When you broke the kiss – an obscene string of saliva still connecting your lips – you looked into his eyes, breath catching at the intensity of them; Like a pure and holy – or perhaps unholy? – blue flame. He was getting more and more beautiful by the minute, unraveling before your eyes.
You felt Hannibal’s finger trail up your inner thigh, capturing your wetness. “What a delightful mess you’ve made.”
You squirmed in Will’s embrace, slightly embarrassed at his discovery. How were you so wet already?
Actually, you knew the answer to that question.
Hannibal’s fingers trailed further up, precariously close to that aching spot you really wanted him to touch. But he stopped, almost expectant.
“What do we say?” Will said, voice dangerously low.
“T-thank you.” You gasped as Hannibal grazed his teeth against your inner thigh, chasing away the sharp sting with his tongue.
Involuntarily, you pushed your hips back, closer to his face. You heard Will’s belt clink slightly as he undid it, along with his trousers. You reached down, wanting to touch him, to savor him too, but he only smirked devilishly.
“Greedy thing, isn’t she?” Will purred, taking a hold of your hand to stop you.
“So it seems.” Hannibal said, standing up. “But with such delectable honey, how can we deny her?”
From behind you, he stretched his hand out towards Will, offering his fingers slick with your arousal. Without a second thought, Will leaned forward and captured his fingers in his mouth, tongue wrapping around his digits.
And that taste of you, saccharine on his tongue, sticking to his palate in all its glory, snapped something in him. He let out a low growl and pushed your hand away, his trousers and boxers soon falling to the floor in a heap.
Hannibal crouched once more behind you as Will pulled you forward, your eyes widening and mouth watering. At the same time that Hannibal buried his face in your cunt, you grasped Will’s erection, a glistening bead of precum on the tip.
Will leaned back against the kitchen island and you bent lower, sticking your tongue out and lapping up the precum. The taste of him was a bit sharp, but not unpleasant; salty and slightly musky. You hummed in approval, giving the underside of the head a teasing lick. His hand buried in your hair, guiding your head gently.
As you took him in your mouth, you moaned around his length. Hannibal was licking you in long, languid strokes, hands spreading you further open. Your legs twitched, but you were too wrapped up in the feel of Will’s cock sliding over your tongue. He shuttled it in and out slowly, reaching a little further every time. You hummed your pleasure continuously, the vibration of it adding to his own pleasure.
Will’s hips bucked and he grunted, eyes screwed shut and head thrown back in ecstasy. Then behind you, Hannibal picked up the pace, his tongue circling your clit as he inserted a finger into your cunt. Your whole body tensed, the movements of your head momentarily halting, and Will snapped to attention.
“Don’t make her come yet.” He snarled, a startling possessive edge to his tone.
Much to your chagrin, Hannibal acquiesced, pulling back, though his finger was still pumping in and out of you at a much slower pace. With a loud pop, you released his cock, drool sloppily dripping down your chin.
“Apologies, I got too carried away.” Hannibal panted, sounding quite smug at how he got you dripping for him. “I’ve seldom tasted something quite so divine. Sweet ambrosia, a feast worthy of the Gods.”
He withdrew completely, pulling you up with him. One hand came up to grip your neck just tight enough to keep you pinned; The other came up to palm your breast, thumb teasing your nipple. You growled in frustration, wiggling your hips.
“What’s that now?” Will taunted, stroking his length slowly – flicking his wrist just so… oh sweet torture! – his breath ragged. “Didn’t we agree to play nice earlier?”
“Oh, she’s being nice. Aren’t you, sweetness?” Hannibal purred, tilting your head to the side to meet his gaze. He looked much like you, lower half of his face glistening with an artful mess of your own creation. “Perhaps she deserves a taste.”
And he kissed you, tongue immediately parting your lips and tangling with your own. You tasted yourself on his lips, mixed in with his saliva, and it had an almost narcotic effect on you. Warmth spread throughout you, oblivion just at your fingertips. You were simply, utterly hooked.
He pulled away to toss his jacket to the side and then bound your hands behind your back with his tie. You heard him undo his trousers and you suppressed a shiver of anticipation. You kept your eyes on Will, the steady rhythm of his hand stroking himself hypnotizing you.
Then, you felt Hannibal’s cock line up with your entrance, the head of it barely slipping in. His low groan was in your ear and he dipped his head to nip your shoulder. You held your breath, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he plunged further into you, making sure you felt every inch.
When he was fully sheathed in you – your head swimming and barely able to tell where he ended and you began – your mouth slackened in pure, unadultered ecstasy.
“How angelic,” Will breahted, awed. “Look at the rapture in her eyes, gazing directly into Heaven.”
“How lucky… she had us to show her.” Hannibal panted.
Hannibal fucked you with a near surgical precision, his thrusts deep and unrelenting, knowing exactly what spots to hit to make you cry out. In fact, he guided himself by the sounds you made, adjusting quickly to whatever seemed to make you respond the most. His hand snaked down to your clit, stroking in time with his thrusts.
And he had to admit, you really did look like an angel in that moment, rosy cheeked, eyelashes thick with tears of overstimulation. Those undignified moans of yours were like a melody he would remember for days to come.
By the tight clench of your cunt, he knew you were right there, but as much as he wanted you to come all over his cock – anointing him with your cream, forever marking him – he knew he’d already been quite greedy with you. He wanted Will to have it; A gift to him.
The swap was almost seamless; one moment you were achingly empty, ready to claw the walls if you didn’t get your release soon. But then you were bent over the kitchen island, legs kicked apart, and Will filled you up in a single thrust.
The way he fucked you was wholly different. Will was more frantic, almost feral, all bared teeth and low growling. His hips slapped against yours loudly, his thrusts quick and almost punishing.
Your body was pure fire, a pillar of all consuming flame. You worried you would slip through their fingers if you weren’t held together tight enough.
Hannibal watched through the whole ordeal, stroking himself, though a part of you wished you could be doing it for him.
And suddenly, with a slight tilt of his hips, Will hit a certain spot inside of you that finally unraveled that tight coil in your stomach. With a keening wail, you stumbled into oblivion, shooting stars streaking in the darkness your eyelids.
Will was right there with you, the tight clench your cunt milking out his pleasure. He painted his design inside you, a messy, unabashed masterpiece.
After a couple more heartbeats, in which you listened to his grunts and ragged breathing, he pulled out of you, sticky warmth trickling down your inner thigh.
Hannibal undid the tie holding your hands, massaging your arms gently and kissing down your spine. He’d already cleaned himself of his own release, now intent on taking care of you. He turned you around and embraced you, wiping your damp hair away from your forehead.
You sagged against him, smiling beatifically, breathing heavily still. Your body still responded to his touch, but you were exhausted.
Will soon returned, already clean himself, with a soft towel in hand. He kneeled in front of you and cleaned you with the utmost care. Both of them looked at you reverently, like someone to worship.
“Well, out of all our times dining together, I have to say… this has been my favorite.” You sighed dreamily, voice still tremulous.
Hannibal chuckled. “Trust me, sweet angel, this won’t be the only time.”
And you were more than okay with that promise.
———
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bigfemboyenergy · 24 hours
Text
self indulging in the sonic x dp x dc thing
tails and/or knuckles could make an appearance. also i have no idea who or what to put for like. the dc part? im not super into dc except for batjokes lore (in technicality) and fics
Danny finds himself in a strange place. He has a lot of questions. After all, it was only a second ago that he was with his family. Where am I? he thinks to himself. What happened? Sadly, he doesn’t have time to dwell on these thoughts, because he sees something awfully “funny” and even potentially dangerous only a few feet away..
Sonic opens his eyes, and blinks several times in shock. He was with Amy, Knuckles, and Tails, but now he’s..wherever this is? He’s gone through some bullshit today, enough from Egghead, and he’s completely over it. Silently, he shrugs as he thinks, well shit, stuff always wants to keep happening.
With a sigh, Sonic uses this moment of what seems to be calm to look around. He blinks repeatedly, shocked. What he sees does not cease to surprise him. Growing up and living in open, bright greenery did not get him ready for the gloomy, dreary city he’s appeared in. He murmurs, vaguely, “what the absolute fuck.” It’s only then that he notices the guy next to him.
Both him and the stranger flinch, as if only just noticing each other. This person..is a human, certainly. Or, well, he looks like one. He looks terribly shocked to be seeing an..oversized blue hedgehog cryptid? Or a 3’ furry? His face shows that he has no idea what he’s seeing.
Danny narrows his eyes, observing the thing, concern and fear melting away. After all, he’s seen worse; who hasn’t, with internet access? He speaks, questioningly, “So, what are you, and have you also been mysteriously brought here without notice?” The creature says, coolly, “Isn’t it more polite to ask for a name first? But I digress; first of all, hedgehog, and secondly, yep.” Danny nods, interested by the way this creature knows English and is oddly human, for something that is, well- a hedgehog, they said? With a small chuckle, Danny speaks once more; “Well then, what’s your name?” The hedgehog grins and proclaims, “Sonic. Sonic the Hedgehog.” It is only then that Danny realizes this bad boy is, well..recognizable? He isn’t quite sure why he’s heard of him or where. He awaits his realization with much impatience. It feels awful to be only halfway to a conclusion.
Sonic looks up at the human, no recognition in his eyes. He doesn’t know him, it seems. With a playful shrug, he begins, “I’ve told you my name, so tell me yours,” he edges closer. “Come on, don’t be shy.” He almost sees the gears turn in the human’s head, before they say, “It’s Danny.”
Sonic looks Danny up and down, taking him in. He seems like an average guy, Sonic thinks. Nothing too unusual about him, probably. “I have a quick question, Dan- can I call you that?- is it..weird for hedgehogs to be walking around this place?” Danny shrugs in response. “I mean, before being brought here, I would’ve thought so, yeah? Pretty odd, if you know what I mean,” he states. “And sure, ‘Dan’ is fine.”
Carefully, Sonic drinks in the new information. He’ll have to consider the fact that bad crap will probably go down around him. He ain’t no normal guy, not in this place, it seems. Might even have to go into hiding, he thinks. That’d suck balls. He sighs to himself, wondering how he’ll even get home.
Danny notices Sonic’s dilemma, but can’t do anything about it. After all, he’s just a halfa, what can he do? He doesn’t have illusion-related powers; at least, he’s not aware of having any, that is. But since he himself has a very good reason to be sympathetic..he makes an offer. “We both got sent here randomly, right? So, why not find a place to crash together? Not sure you could even get a job here, so you’ll definitely need someone’s help.” Sonic snickers softly and holds out his hand for Danny to shake. “That sounds good to me, if you don’t mind,” he says, a bit calmer now. Danny doesn’t hesitate to shake Sonic’s hand as he says, “Hello, new partner in crime.”
Upon noticing that two people supposedly teleported here for no reason..the batfamily was in a state of worry. Now that they have tried to research these people, get a little info on them- they, uh..are quite shocked to learn that nobody fits their descriptions and/or the names they go by. Well, except for something they aren’t sure whether to deem it a coincidence or a completely mind-boggling disaster. More on that later.
Now that Danny and Sonic have gotten fairly acquainted, all that’s left is for them to find a place to spend their time, and hopefully some work.
WELL THATS IT FOR THIS TEST THING TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT 💀 and yes i am calling it “The Worst Crossover To Ever Cross Over” it’s a good pun imo ok
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atticssmellgood · 1 year
Text
Love and snotty tissues
Summary: reader is sick and Spencer takes care of him
Spencer Reid x Male!reader(he/him pronouns)
CW: none! This is purely self-indulgent, tooth-rotting fluff🥰
A/N: I’m currently battling a virus right now, and I thought a nice sick!fic would help me feel better! Enjoy!
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You sniffled, your head completely buried in the mound of blankets currently engulfing you.
You were completely, and utterly, miserable.
The past few days had felt like hell on earth due to the war your immune system was waging with the germs inside your body. The headaches, the vomiting, the constant cold chills…
Yep, you had definitely found hell.
You squeezed your eyes shut as you fought the intense waves of pain in your skull, like you could somehow banish the splitting headache with sheer will. In fact, you were so focused on this task that you hadn’t heard the squeak of the hinges as the door to your bedroom opened, or the light footsteps making their way towards your bed.
“Y/N? Love?”
You opened your eyes at the familiar voice and internally cursed. You thought about pretending to be asleep, but you knew that probably wouldn’t fool the genius. So, you reluctantly poked your head out from under the blankets, squinting at the sudden brightness.
You heard Spencer laugh quietly, the sound filling you with warmth even as you shivered beneath the blankets.
The doctor pulled back the covers to get a better look at his boyfriend’s face. You gave him a sheepish smile when you saw Spencer’s soft expression turn into a worried one. The hand he used to pull the covers off of you was now on your forehead, pushing back hair damp with sweat.
“Y/N, You’re burning up..” He whispered as his hand gently moved to your cheek, softly running his thumb back and forth in a soothing motion.
You closed your eyes and leaned into the touch before responding with: “I’m fine, it’s just a cold, nothing to worry about.”
Spencer didn’t look like he was buying any of it as you opened your eyes to see him staring at you with furrowed brows.
You thought you could get lost in those big, brown eyes. The way they softened when he looked at you was absolutely mesmerizing, like he would give you all the love in the world and it still wouldn’t be enough to describe his feelings.
You were snapped out of your thoughts when Spencer leaned down and kissed your forehead, removing his hand from your cheek.
“I’m going to call Hotch and tell him I’m not coming in today.” Spencer said with finality as he dug in his pocket for his phone.
“That really isn’t necessary—“ you groan, but by the time the words had escaped your mouth, he was already putting the phone up to his ear.
—————————
“No! I already told you, I’m not drinking that crap!” Y/N shouts as Spencer tries to give him a small dose of cough syrup.
He laughs as he watches his boyfriend pout like a stubborn child, standing in the kitchen, crossing his arms and turning his head away.
Spencer sighs and softly places his hand on your jaw, turning your head back towards him.
“Please, love? For me?” Your breath momentarily stops as his eyes gaze into yours, warm and inviting. After a moment of silence, you throw your arms up in defeat.
“Fine! Fine. I’ll take the god damn cough syrup, just stop looking at me like that.” He grins at you, making your cheeks feel warm in a way that wasn’t caused by your fever.
Spencer hands the small spoon over to you as you take a deep breath.
‘It’s just cough syrup, you can handle it’
Without another thought, you stick the spoon into your mouth. The disgusting flavor coats your tongue and you gag.
Fortunately, Spencer was already waiting with a glass of water in hand. You snatch the cup greedily, not even waiting for him to extend it to you.
“See, that wasn’t so bad.” He smiled sweetly at you before taking the now empty glass out of your hand and setting it on the counter.
“Tell that to my tastebuds,” you grimace “I don’t think I’ll ever get that horrid taste out of my mouth.” It was true, the flavor still lingered even after you drank the water.
Then, without so much as a word, Spencer took your hands and guided them to his lips, showering your palms and knuckles in feather-light kisses. Once he’s done there, he makes his way up to your face, kissing both cheeks, your forehead, and your nose before finally bringing his mouth to yours.
The kiss is gentle, yet firm, his soft lips a stark contrast to your chapped ones. He holds your face in his hands, as if he was scared you might break beneath his touch. In that moment, you were the only people in the world. The feeling of his kiss drowned out the noise of the city, your burning fever, the headache, until all your senses were filled with him. You wrap your arms around his torso and pull him closer, desperate to make this moment last forever. Sometimes you wish you could borrow his memory, if only to remember moments like this, where neither of you felt anything but love and warmth and safety. Your chest felt heavy with longing as you breathe in the scent of vanilla and coffee.
The smell of him.
The smell of home.
He finally pulls away and you open your eyes slowly, the taste of him heavy on your tongue. You feel slightly dizzy when he stares at you, and only then did you realize;
The taste of the cough syrup was gone, replaced by the lingering sensation of his lips on yours.
You grin a giddy, lovesick thing.
“Have I ever told you I love you, Doctor Reid?” You say to him, watching as a pink blush reaches his ears.
The rest of the day was spent mostly in silence, save for the sounds coming from the TV and the occasional “how are you feeling” from your boyfriend. Spencer had made a cup of tea for you, which you were extremely grateful for. The hot liquid granted you temporary reprieve from the soreness in your throat, and tasted heavenly.
You sit on the couch with the warm mug in hand, contemplating just how god damn lucky you were right now.
You had a boyfriend, yes, but he wasn’t just any boyfriend. This man had taken time off of work just so he could take care of you. He didn’t have to, but he did. He cared about you in a way that you may never understand. He filled your life with so much love that you didn’t think it was possible to be able to feel anything else. Sometimes, you’d think your chest would explode from how much you loved that boy. He was like water to you, you couldn’t live without him. You wanted all your days and nights painted with him. His smile, his laugh, his soft touches and gentle eyes. His face, his scent, his voice, you wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of your life with Spencer Reid, telling him how much he was loved.
Spencer then came into the living room with a bowl of warm soup and a small stack of DVD’s.
“So, which one are we watching first?”
—————————
The sun had finally settled by the time you and Spencer finished the third movie. One long arm was wrapped around your torso, drawing small circles into you back as you laid on top of him, your head nuzzled into his chest. You sighed contentedly as his other hand carded gently through your hair.
“Hey Spence?” You mumbled, slightly raising your head to meet his gaze.
“Yeah?”
“I think I’d like to be sick more often.” You say with a lazy grin. He chuckles at that, and you lay your head back against his chest.
Comfortable silence falls over the both of you once again.
“Hey Spence?” You whisper again, eyes half lidded.
“Hmm?”
“I’m pretty sure you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
With that, you close your eyes, surrounded by nothing but love and body heat, letting the steady sound of Spencer’s heartbeat lull you to sleep.
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mushiewrites · 1 year
Text
Handsy Hyperfixation
so.....to give an idea of what this monster of a fic is, @awkwardtickleetoo wanted me to name this "Mushie's Self Indulgent Hand Fic", and in my google docs this is labeled "passing out throwing up"...so yeah. this was made back in december and i randomly wrote out 4k words one morning in a frenzy after a picture of dream's hands and thinking about how big they are...and now here we are, over 3k additional words later. it is honestly the most flustering thing I've written yet (to me), cal and i have had trouble even reading through it before it was finished... so yep. here it is! the mega self indulgent hand fic. i hope u all enjoy 😵‍💫
dream catches george starring at his hands from across the room, so he decides to give george a closer look at how much bigger they are than his, and what they're actually capable of
(lee!George / ler!Dream : 7.2k words 🫠)
Four. That’s how many times Dream had counted that George was staring at him. Although, he couldn’t tell if it really counted as staring at him; the brunette was clearly focused on his hands. He had noticed for a while now, even before today, that he would catch George staring at them whenever he would do anything with his hands. At first he figured George would be just watching whatever he’d be doing, but after a while he caught on; it was actually just his hands.
Now, Dream had a theory about why. George was so much smaller than him, and the elder loved to point it out; even more so now that they lived together. In the first two days that George was in Florida he had somehow managed to wrangle up four of Dream’s hoodies, two T-Shirts and a pair of OU sweatpants that he had no idea how George would ever be able to wear them. 
George had pointed out multiple times how much bigger Dream’s hands are, how they completely engulf his fist and some of his wrist. The blonde would let him take his hand and compare it with his own, still commenting on how much larger they were. Dream didn’t think it was weird in the slightest, but he noticed that the more time that passed, the more and more he caught George staring. It had been the fourth time in the last hour, with the older boy thinking he was going unnoticed.  Though in reality, Dream was sure he’d feel his stare from a mile away. 
“Are you really staring at them again?” Dream watched as the sudden question made George jump, wide eyes staring back at him with his cheeks turning a dusty pink as the realization hit that he’d been caught. The younger boy giggled at the way George’s jaw had slightly dropped and how quickly he had closed it with a nervous gulp.
“Staring at what, idiot? I’m not staring at anything!” George spat out after a very tense few seconds while he wracked his brain for things to say. Dream giggled at his sorry excuse of an answer and held up his hands, wiggling his fingers slightly. A smirk formed on his face as he watched George’s cheeks go from pink to red at the action, causing the older boy to break eye contact and look anywhere but at him. 
“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, George,” the smaller boy shuddered at the accusation, looking up briefly when he saw Dream stand up from the couch and walk over to where he was on the other end. “My hands, idiot.” 
“What about your stupid hands?” George bit back, clearly flustered at the prospect of having to admit the truth. Dream’s smirk grew even more as he reached his destination, his knees knocking into George’s as he looked down at him. 
“You were staring. Don’t deny it, I caught you red handed George.” Dream was quick to shut George down when he saw his mouth open to protest, making sure he knew that Dream knew his little secret. 
“Y-You’re an actual idiot. You’re the idiot! Why would I be looking at your stupid- HEHEHEY!” George was cut off mid-argument when he felt two squeezes on his sides, making him fall back further into the couch cushions. 
He brought his legs up to his chest out of habit to protect himself, but he quickly realized he had set himself up as Dream squeezed at the back of his thighs, making him scream out and kick his feet up. This only encouraged Dream to grab one of the flailing ankles, gripping it tightly as he scribbled his nails quickly up and down George’s foot. The older boy squealed and fell to his side, giving Dream the opportunity to grab the other ankle and yank them down so his legs were flat against the couch cushions. Once he forcefully maneuvered the smaller boy to lay on his back, Dream straddled his waist, successfully trapping him. 
George was frantically kicking his feet against the couch, trying to dig his heel into it to gain leverage to buck Dream off but finding it harder than he thought it would be. He pushed himself up onto his elbows to try and fully sit up, hoping maybe there was a chance he could get Dream quick enough to make him crumble, but was immediately pushed back down by one of Dream’s hands against his chest. George let out a desperate whine, pushing at Dream’s knees as a last resort to try and loosen the grip they had around his waist but finding it impossible to move him. He was truly fucked. 
“Am I the idiot? I’d say an idiot is more like someone in your situation right now, Georgie.” Dream chuckled as he grabbed George’s sides once more to make him buck his hips up with a yelp. The blonde noticed that George still wasn’t looking at him, and Dream could tell he was almost too flustered to function. 
“Sh-Shuhut uhup!” George replied through his giggles. He did his best to sound intimidating, but he knew it was impossible with all his squeaks and noises. He threw his head back against the couch cushions with a cackle as Dream moved his hands up to his ribcage, squirming as the tickly feeling spread throughout his ribs. 
“Look at that, George! My hands basically cover your entire rib cage,” Dream fanned his fingers out as far as they’d go, smiling down at George as he confirmed they did in fact reach from the top of his ribs to the bottom, even a little on the boy's sides as well. “You’re just so tiny, I guess it makes sense.” 
George felt as if his head would pop at any second, his mind so floaty he felt like an overly filled balloon. He couldn’t do anything but laugh and watch as Dream’s fingers covered the expanse of his upper torso. He squeezed his eyes closed after a few seconds and brought his hands up to hide behind them, too flustered to continue seeing himself getting tickled to pieces.
But Dream was right; George WAS staring at his hands. It started a few months ago when they had been arguing over something, George stealing the remote or Dream’s phone. He was fast but Dream was strong, and so when he finally caught up to the smaller boy, Dream had gripped his wrist to stop him from getting away. The way one of Dream’s hands had completely wrapped around both of George’s wrists had him feeling faint. He swore he was genuinely dizzy when he realized how much bigger Dream actually was than him. 
“I have an idea!” George flinched as Dream broke the silence once more, cracking one eye open to see the bright smile above him. He noticed movement below his vision and leaned his head up slightly, eyes widening in horror as Dream pressed the heel of his hand into his lower tummy, moving it teasingly to make the older boy squeak out a giggle. He placed the rest of his hand down on George’s tummy, spreading his fingers out and pressing the tips of them into the soft skin below. 
“Why don’t we see how many spots I can reach with just one hand?” 
The second George’s mind registered what Dream suggested he froze, staring up into bright green eyes with a tiny nervous giggle slipping out. It was like his brain short circuited - he couldn’t find the words to protest; he couldn’t form words to describe how much that idea had flustered him. 
When he finally had the ability to move his body again he immediately pushed up, trying to launch himself forward to knock Dream off of him to escape. It turns out that Dream had anticipated this and pressed down on George’s stomach, keeping the smaller boy in place. George let out a whine, kicking his legs in a mix of frustration and excitement when he realized he truly was stuck beneath Dream’s hand on his tummy. 
“P-Please Dream! Don’t!” He managed to keep his giggles down as he felt Dream pulse his fingers against his skin once, using just enough pressure for it to tickle but not for it to be unbearable. George knew it was on purpose; if Dream wanted it to really tickle, it would’ve tickled like hell. 
“Why not, George? You seemed to be so interested in my hands before, I figured you’d like a closer look! And I’m even showing you them in action! Aren’t I nice?” As Dream spoke he began to do the jellyfish technique of dragging his fingertips together in the center of his tummy before fanning them back out, taking George by surprise and causing him to squeal. He fell into high pitched giggles as Dream continued to slowly and gently drag his fingertips in and out, following the jumpy tummy even as it squirmed away. 
Even though George wanted to return a snarky comment Dream’s way, he was unable to with how hard he was laughing. Dream had managed to position his ring finger over his ribs, digging right into the muscle between the bones. Once Dream realized this was a more sensitive spot for George, he used more pressure, giggling quietly himself as the boy beneath him practically convulsed with ticklish energy. 
“I said, aren’t I nice?” With that, Dream pressed into his lower ribs on the other side of George with his thumb, watching as the brunettes struggling became more frantic. 
“Y-YEHEHES YES! PLEHEASE NOHOHO! I’M SORRY DREHEHEAM!” Dream chuckled at his friend's reaction, shaking his head slightly as he continued to wiggle his fingertip’s into the quivering tummy. He leaned forward, using his free hand to press down slightly on George’s shoulder to keep him in place. 
“I’m sorry George, but it’s a little too late for apologies now.” Dream let out an overexaggerated sigh, playing up the disappointment before suddenly digging his fingers into George’s tummy, vibrating his hand as well. George let out a shriek, kicking and thrashing and grabbing at Dream’s hand to try and pull it off his stomach.
But Dream was having none of this. He easily scooped up George’s wrists in one hand, pressing them against his chest to keep them out of the way. Dream placed his hand back down onto George’s tummy, his fingertips almost reaching where he was keeping the older boy’s hands hostage. He wasted no time in digging back in, vibrating a little quicker to punish George for interrupting him in the first place. 
“PLEHEASE D-DREHEAM I CAHAN’T- I CAHAHAN’T BREHEATHE!” The brunette shrieked between his cackles, squeezing his eyes even tighter as he pulled at his hands to try and break free from Dream’s grip. Just as he had suspected, nothing worked. 
“You’re speaking George, that means you’re breathing. You’re just dramatic.” Dream replied nonchalantly, still slowing down to make sure George was okay. The smaller boy was taking in gulps of air between his laughter, Dream still digging in slightly but not as intense as before. He slowly allowed his fingers to come to a stop, staying in place against the warm skin. 
“O-Ohoho my gosh. W-Why?” he panted out, opening his eyes again just to give Dream his best puppy dog eyes in the hopes that he would take mercy on him and leave him (and the subject matter) alone. 
“Because, I’m just giving you what you want, Georgie,” Dream began, letting go of the boy’s wrists but grabbing one of his hands to lightly drag his thumb over the back of it to help comfort him. “We both know you were thinking about how much my hands tickle. And we both know it tickles so much because you’re so small, and my hands are so big that they cover most of your spots at one time.” 
The comment made George’s cheeks heat up, feeling as if tiny fireworks were bursting out of the freckles on his skin. He brought his free hand up to slap it over his face, hiding as much of himself as he could to try and relieve some of the embarrassment. A long whine made its way up his throat and passed through his lips without his permission, making him squirm even more due to how flustering the situation was. 
Dream barked out a laugh at that, letting George continue to hide himself as he turned his attention back to his hand on the tummy between his thighs. He pressed his fingertips against George’s stomach a few times, earning a squeak and a kick from him as well as a few stray giggles. 
“Let’s just see what spots I can reach, shall we?” The blonde didn’t wait for George to answer, instead stilling all of his fingers except his thumb that was pressing repeatedly into the lower ribs and upper side on the left of George’s body. Dream watched as he threw his body to the right, attempting to escape from the pokes and prods that were sending tiny sparks of ticklish bolts throughout his left side. 
“See, this is a good spot that my thumb is resting against,” Dream pressed in a little quicker with his thumb on George’s lower ribs to emphasize which spot he was talking about. “It lets me get your extremely ticklish bottom ribs, and it lets me press into your extremely ticklish sides! Sounds extremely ticklish, huh George?” 
Too busy laughing, George was only able to nod his head in agreement, causing Dream to coo at him and apply more pressure. This caused George’s legs to start kicking against the couch cushions again, this time a little more sporadic due to the tickly sensations that were shooting into his side and down his leg. Dream began to rub circles into the bottom two ribs, making George buck up with a screech before he reached down to pull at Dream’s hand once again. 
“Ah ah ah, no blocking me! You know what that means.” George’s eyes snapped open, flinging his hand away from his face and silently pleading up at Dream while shaking his head back and forth frantically. 
“I-I’m sohohorry! I promise I wohon’t dohoho it again!” The smaller boy tried his hardest to make sure Dream knew he was serious, but it seemed he didn’t care in the slightest whether George was actually sorry or not. He shook his head at the boy below him and smirked, grabbing the hand that George had tried to use to stop him and placing it down to his side against the couch. Dream moved his knee over George’s wrist, keeping it in place so that he once again had a free hand. 
“I’m sorry baby, but rules are rules! Now, back to what I was saying,” Dream began to continue, earning a surprised squeak from George as the hand against his tummy sprung back to life, the thumb resuming the light circles along the boy’s very sensitive bottom ribs. “This is just such a good spot. One of my favorites. Never fails to make you laugh, does it?” 
Dream could feel the hand under his knee attempt to wiggle free, so he leaned more of his weight against it, careful not to hurt George but enough that he had absolutely no hope of escaping. The older boy was practically howling at the way Dream was rubbing circles into the bottom rib, thrashing and trying to roll over to cover the spot and dislodge the tickling hand. 
After a few more minutes the circles turned into a palm pressed against that spot, rubbing slightly to help the ghost tickles subside. Dream waited until George’s laughter had calmed down to light giggling before he decided to continue with the task at hand. He pressed his pointer finger into the skin, feeling the inner edge of George’s rib and moving it slightly to press around the spaces between both sides of his ribcage. 
“My pointer finger can reach the middle of your ribs and upper tummy, how does that feel, pretty boy? Hm?” He followed the question with a series of small but powerful pokes, making George kick every time Dream landed one on his ribs. The taunting tone of his voice made it even harder for George to focus on anything but the teases and how badly it tickled. He truly was a flustered mess. 
“I-Ihihit t-tihihickles!” George couldn’t help but bring his free hand back over his face, embarrassed by how squeaky and high pitched he sounded through his giggles. Dream smiled at how adorable the sight was, using his pointer finger to do little swirls with his nail. This made George’s giggles jump even higher in pitch, making him shake his head and pull at his wrist in an attempt to hide himself even further.
“It does, huh? Right here, on your ticklish little ribs?” George whined through his laughter at that, turning his head to the side and throwing his arm over his face to hide how red it was becoming. Dream giggled, continuing to tease him as he tapped a few times on his skin before kneading in a bit. “It tickles right here, George?” 
The older boy could do nothing but nod at Dream’s question, the description he asked so nonchalantly making George’s head spin. He kept his arm over his face even as Dream decided to use a good amount of pressure to knead circles against the bones. George was wailing at this technique that was clearly tickling him silly. Dream couldn’t help but laugh along with him, finding George’s laughter to always be so contagious. He watched the brunette thrash himself from side to side like a squirmy little worm, making that comment out loud to him just to watch the tips of George’s ears turn red as well. 
“Wow, this really is a good spot, isn’t it sweetheart? You’re laughing your little heart out! You’re just a squirmy little ticklish worm, aren’t you?” The blonde cooed, making George squeeze his eyes shut even more. He knew his face was covered but he felt so exposed and so vulnerable under Dream’s hand like this. He couldn’t understand why, but he fucking loved it. 
“Okay, let’s give this sensitive little spot a break. How about we go on to the next spot?” Dream asked, not waiting for an answer as he poked his middle finger against the skin a little below his sternum three times. George jolted upwards, not laughing as hard as the previous spot but still cackling enough to let Dream know that what he was doing was working. 
“D-Dreheheam please! I cahan’t take ihihit!” George whined through his giggles, finally moving his arm away from his face and opening his eyes to plead once again with Dream. The taller boy flashed his white teeth at him through a big smile, shaking his head back at him slowly. 
“I’ve seen you take much worse than this! This is nothing,” Dream explained, as if George wasn’t the one experiencing the tickling. “You’re just a little overly sensitive today, that’s all.”
The elder rolled his eyes at that, earning a quick squeeze to the upper thigh from Dream’s free hand and making him shriek before falling back into bright giggles as the feeling disappeared as quickly as it came. 
“N-Nohohot fair, Dream!” George pouted through his jagged breathing, not appreciating the sudden squeeze to his death spot for simply rolling his eyes.
“Awh,” Dream’s caring smile was shining through for a few seconds before a more devious smirk appeared in its place, a menacing giggle spilling out from the younger boy before he continued his teasing. “Is the poor baby too sensitive? Too ticklish? Too small to defend himself?” 
George pondered the question before he slowly nodded his head, flinging his free arm back over his face to hide the returning blush. He heard Dream giggle above him, sounding much closer than anticipated. A soft breeze to his ear was enough to make him start giggling again as Dream began to whisper into his ear, giving him goosebumps and making him shudder at the tickly vibrations that came with it. George could hear the teasy-ness dripping from Dream’s words as he continued to mess with him.
“That sounds like a you problem, angel.” 
The words sent shivers down George’s spine, feeling how much Dream was loving being able to rip the smaller boy to little ticklish shreds. He knew the exact teases and spots that got to George in the cruelest ways, and Dream was using Every. Single. One. And considering they had only just reached the third finger, George wondered how he’d ever survive this. 
“Okay, now that we’ve established you’re too small, sensitive and flustered to do anything, let’s continue.” The blonde had pressed his lips against George’s ear this time, allowing the vibrations from the low tone of his voice to travel from his ear down his spine. Another chill had him shuddering as Dream pulled back, sitting straight up and readjusting his position to make sure George’s arm wouldn’t break free from below his knee. 
“D-Do wehehe have to continue? Aren’t you….bored? Isn’t there… something else you’d like to behehe doing?” The smaller boy squeaked out, trying but painfully failing to convince Dream that there were better things to do. George moved his arm slightly to watch as the boy above him quirked an eyebrow up in confusion, a dopey grin spreading across his face at George’s pathetic attempt at stopping him. 
Dream let out a low chuckle, the kind that made George want to curl in on himself from how menacing it sounded. He immediately threw his arm back over his face out of embarrassment, but Dream grabbed it with one of his hands and brought it down to join the other hand under one of Dream’s knees. George let out a long whine, shaking his head up with wide eyes. This only made Dream bark out another laugh at the sight. 
“Something else I’d be doing? Like what? Laying on the couch? Napping? Editing?” Dream scrunched his nose at the suggestions, shaking his head slightly as he weighed the options. “Absolutely not. I’d rather be right here, tickling you to bits.” 
“Nohohoho!” George giggled at that, a loud cackle following as Dream slowly dug his fingertips into the older boy's tummy. He wiggled them slightly with enough pressure to keep George laughing, shaking his head himself as he protested Dream’s actions. He tried to wiggle his hips to move the tickly fingers, but he was stuck between the two thighs keeping his arms pinned. It was then he realized how stuck he actually was. Dream watched as the brunette gulped, staring back up at him with a nervous smile. 
“Yehehes!” Dream mocked George, making the smaller boy whine and look to the side, finally breaking eye contact. “What’s wrong Georgie, too ticklish? Can’t handle it?” 
Dream still his fingers, only poking into the skin with his middle finger once more. George shook his head a little faster, squeaking as he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth while he tried to hold his laughter in. But Dream wasn’t having this. He used his middle finger to wiggle it a little to the side, just barely grazing the start of one of George’s rib bones. He nearly bucked Dream off with how hard he threw his body around. 
“Oh, that’s a good spot, huh George?” The brunette heard Dream’s question, but he couldn’t speak even if he had wanted to. “Right here, on your little ribs again? I’d say this is probably your worst spot, wouldn’t you?”
“S-Stohop Dreheheam! P-Plehease!” George pleaded with Dream, again trying his hand at Dream’s famous puppy eyes. However, the younger boy seemed to be immune to this tactic at the current moment, completely focused on pressing his middle finger to the left and right to make sure he was scraping at the tips of his inner ribs. 
“Stop? Okay George, I’ll stop.” The blonde smiled down at him, removing both hands and holding them out in front of him. George let out a sigh of relief, finally able to take a full breath. But this relief was short lived as he watched two hands dart back to his ribs, digging in quickly and vibrating against George’s bones. Dream leaned down again, pressing lips to the boy's bright red ear. “I’ll stop tickling when you stop being so ticklish.” 
George felt goosebumps rise on his skin, something that only happens when he gets extremely flustered. Dream knew this, and he raised his eyebrows with a huge grin, comparable to a little kid on Christmas morning. He paused his tickling, sitting back slightly so he could look at George fully.
“Oh, that got to you, huh? What was it this time? The way I said I was going to stop and didn’t? The way I mentioned how ticklish you were?” Dream watched the boy squirm beneath him as he tried to hide his face in his shoulder. “Or was it both? Tell me kitten, what one is it?”.
The elder just squirmed more under Dream’s intense stare, waiting for an answer from him. George stuttered through his reply, not able to think clearly due to how flustered he was. It came out quieter than he’d meant it to be, barely above a whisper as he answered Dream’s question. 
“Uhm, t-the third option.” 
Dream cooed at that, bringing a hand to his cheek to rub one of his thumbs under George’s eye. He felt as the smaller boy relaxed into the touch, essentially pushing into Dream’s hand and nuzzling his cheek against the skin. This made Dream choke out a squeak, holding in a giggle as George’s stubble tickled the palm of his hand. He had hoped that it’d go unseen but George was smirking at him now, clearly amused with the way he had accidentally tickled the younger boy. 
“Oh be quiet George. We still have two fingers left!” the blonde practically growled at George, causing him to giggle at how serious he looked. Dream leaned down closer to his face, grinning as he continued. “I’m not done playing with my tickle toy, yet.”
The brunette swore the room was spinning, feeling incredibly lightheaded at the new pet name Dream used. George didn’t think it was possible to be more flustered than he already was, but apparently this was a night of discoveries, and he added it to the secret list of things that make him melt into a puddle. 
“Ugh, Dream, you can’t say that.” 
“Why? Because it flusters you? Because it embarrasses you? When are you gonna realize I don’t listen to you? I can say whatever I want. I can do whatever I want.” He chuckled, moving his hands off of his ribs and placing his hand back on George’s stomach, his fingers spread out in the same position as before. George watched as Dream flashed him a bright smile, acting as if he wasn’t currently torturing the absolute hell out of him. “Is that fucking clear?” 
George felt his eyes growing wider and suddenly he was nodding, unable to break eye contact with Dream, as if in a trance. Dream had never spoken to him like this before, at least not this seriously. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was flustered out of his mind or just because it was Dream, but one thing was for sure - he found himself wanting to listen to him. He wanted to do what Dream asked of him. He wanted to make Dream proud. 
“Good boy, Georgie.” Dream knows exactly what that line of praise does to him, and he smirks as he says it. George felt the dizzying feeling once more, knowing that if Dream continues how he is now, he won’t be able to remember his own name. He let out a whine as Dream wiggled his ring finger lightly, squirming slightly to the left to try and relieve the feeling. 
“Stay still for me, okay angel? The more you cooperate, the easier it’s going to be for you.” 
George could only nod in response with a tiny squeak of acknowledgement before breaking out into giggles as Dream pressed his finger a little harder against the right side of his rib cage, rubbing back and forth slowly. This caused George to squeal, a loud cackle following as he kicked as much as he could. To his surprise, he was doing a pretty good job of keeping his upper body still, his body jerking slightly to the side but nothing more than that. 
“See, it’s not so bad, huh?” Dream was speaking softer than before as he watched George’s eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment. He smiled fondly down at him, moving his ring finger between the spaces of the ribs he could reach. Dream let out a small strained whine when he wasn’t able to get to as many of the bones as he’d like. 
“Nohoho it ihihis still bahahad!” George continued to try and speak through his laughter, making Dream break out into airy giggles while he continued to wiggle his fingers along the sensitive skin of George’s torso.
“Okay, still bad, but you’re doing so good!” Dream sounded genuinely proud and George thought he might combust into a million tiny pieces if he said anything else even in the realm of kindness. “I know how ticklish your little ribs are, it must be torture to endure this. But you’re doing such a good job, George. Such a good boy.” 
George whined again through his laughter, shaking his head as he realized Dream was even using praise against him now. The blonde wasn’t playing fairly - he was using all of George’s weaknesses he’d ever found out and was putting them all into play at the same time; It wasn’t his fault he was so spaced out! 
Dream began to drill his finger against the rib bones, kneading as fast as he could along as many ribs as he could reach. He lifted his palm slightly, moving it forward to get at untouched bones to make George jump. The elder could feel the way Dream‘s finger slotted perfectly in the spaces between the bones, making him attempt to buck up in ticklish agony. He was wailing now, his legs no longer kicking and arms no longer pulling every now and then - he was truly putty. He was truly Dream’s tickle toy. 
“NAHAHA PLEHEASE!” George thought he might die with how hard he was laughing, feeling his chest burning every time he sharply inhaled between his cackles. Dream heard the strain in his voice and slowed his finger to a gentle tracing, trying to soothe George and let him ride out the leftover giggles that continued on, even after Dream completely removed his hand. 
“Hey, it’s alright, George. I’m right here, you did great, okay?” George was breathing heavily, taking in huge gulps of air as his breathing finally began to regulate itself. “We have one more finger, just my pinky, but if you’re too tickled out we don’t have to do it.” 
One thing that he always appreciated and admired about Dream was his ability to be completely genuine and only want the best for the people around him. He knew that Dream would stop if George really wanted to, and because of this George decided to let him keep going. He trusted Dream and knew he would stop regardless if he wound up changing his mind. 
“N-Nohoho you- you cahahan,” George giggled out, looking up at Dream and giving him a smile to let the younger boy know he was okay. “Just…behehe quick if you cahan, okay?” 
Dream could’ve teared up at how nice George was being. He was willingly letting Dream continue, even if he had just tortured the life out of him not even two minutes prior. The fact that George felt safe with Dream was all he had ever wanted, and he had no idea how to handle the feeling. He leaned forward and grabbed George’s cheeks with both hands, lightly squeezing and squishing his face between his fingers. 
“Yes I’ll be quick! Oh my God, George, you’re so adorable. I can’t get over it. I just had to squish you.” Dream was giggling at George’s confusion spreading all over his face, his brows furrowing together and a small wobbly grin forming as he felt Dream continue to contort his face in all different ways. After a few more seconds, the blonde finally pulled back, giggling down at George and watching him attempt to hold in giggles.
“None of that, remember?” Dream was quick to put his hand back on George’s stomach, using his pinky to push into the squishy part of George’s right side and causing him to thrash to the left with a squeak. “No holding in giggles! They’re my reward for tickling you!” 
“S-Stohohop saying stuff like thahahat!” George cried out as he continued to laugh his little head off, feeling as Dream began rubbing his finger in all different directions in the middle of his side, trying to find the right place to get the biggest reaction. 
“Like what? Me saying your giggles are a reward for me tickling you? It’s true! They are my reward, why else would I be doing this?” Dream continued to wiggle his pinky, pausing for a second so George would look up at him. “I mean, besides the fact that you love being tickled.” 
George was sure his face was truly on fire with how hot his skin was, not able to control his reactions and stuttering out protests at Dream’s accusations. He was shaking his head frantically, denying and denying and denying, all while Dream sat in silence from his place on George’s hips, smiling down at him and seemingly not listening to a word George was saying. 
“Stop trying to deny it, baby. You know you do, I know you do, so let me take care of you, okay?” Dream sounded so sweet it was making George’s head spin. He felt like his head was filled with cement, letting it lay against the soft cushions below him as he stared up at the ceiling. Dream resumed his tickling after another second, startling George and causing his laughter to come out more frantic than it had been. 
George was fully dizzy now, his mind floating somewhere in space while his body remained on earth, tickled and tormented in whatever ways Dream liked. He wasn’t sure how this had even started anymore, not able to think of anything else besides how big Dream’s hand was and how badly it tickled him. The thought of Dream’s hand being able to spread over most of his torso was flustering enough, but seeing it for himself in real time was something he never expected to see. He wasn’t sure how to get his thoughts together - he actually wasn’t sure if he had any other thoughts at all, besides how ticklish it felt. 
He jolted as Dream’s remaining four fingers began to move, digging into the spots that had been tormented minutes before. George couldn’t do anything but laugh, twisting from side to side every time Dream’s pointer and ring finger scraped between the bones in the middle of his rib cage. He had never had someone’s focus so closely on a spot before, especially not to experiment and prolong the tickling process like this. George shook his head again, trying to shake the flustering thought from his brain before he actually melts into the cushions below him. 
Dream added his free hand into the mix, having explored where he could reach with one hand and now using this opportunity to truly dig into George’s ribs. George screamed, making Dream’s eyes quickly flick up to his face to make sure he wasn’t hurt. It sounded so desperate and raw, like it tore through George’s throat to escape. When he was sure George wasn’t actually in pain he continued on, squeezing and kneading and knuckling at the sensitive little ribs under his fingers. The boy below him could almost be compared to a rag doll - George was completely limp, his head thrown back with his eyes tightly shut, laughing and laughing and not putting up an ounce of a fight. 
“Look at you, George. You’re all tickled out, huh? I bet everything feels so much more ticklish now that I’ve flustered you a ton.” Dream teased him, trying to keep his voice in a light tone as he spoke over George’s laughter. The older boy nodded, unable to answer with words because of how hard he was laughing. His face was a deep red, flushed beyond repair as his hair stuck to his forehead and the sides of his face. He was sweating and tears were falling and George couldn’t tell which was which. It didn’t really matter, it was all part of the overwhelming feeling of bliss George had.
“P-PLEHE- DREHE-” He was pleading through his screams, bucking up off the couch even with Dream sitting on his waist as Dream’s pointer fingers found his sensitive back ribs, kneading circles deep into the bones there. No matter how hard he tried, George couldn’t get a full word out. This signaled to Dream that George was indeed tickled out, and he really was at his limit. 
The hands on George’s ribs slowly came to a stop, Dream using his palms to try and soothe him once more of the lingering ghost tickles that were no doubt still doing their job. George couldn’t stop laughing. He didn’t remember the last time he was tickled like this, if ever. His chest was on fire and his throat was raw, coughing slightly when he took in a particularly deeper breath. 
“Wait one second okay? I’ll be right back.” The younger boy moved off of him and stood up from the couch, walking to the kitchen and opening the fridge. Dream grabbed out two water bottles, bringing one over to George and twisting the cap before holding it out to him. 
“Thanks.” George strained out as he sat up slowly, wincing at his sore wrists from being kneeled on for so long. Dream noticed and his gentle smile turned into a concerned frown, sitting down on the couch next to George and taking the wrist that was not occupied into his own hands to begin rubbing lightly. 
“Sorry about that,” Dream apologized sheepishly, setting George’s water bottle on the side table when he was finished drinking to scoop his other wrist up, now gently massaging both and smiling when George let out a little contented sigh and closed his eyes again. “I didn’t mean to lean on them so hard. I got a little carried away.”
“You think?” Dream giggled bashfully as he felt his cheeks grow warmer, looking back down at George’s hands as he continued to rub along the skin of the small wrists. The blonde lifted them up, leaning his head down and meeting them halfway to give each wrist a small kiss. He pulled back, seeing George crack an eye open as he waited for Dream’s response.
“I couldn’t help it! Your laugh, like, activated something in me. I just needed to hear it more! It was like I became a tickle monster or something.” It was George’s turn to be bashful, knowing damn well that Dream knew the tickle monster bit always got to him a little more. He groaned, pulling his hands out of Dream’s to cover his own face, knowing he was blushing and wouldn’t be able to control it.
“Okahay, I promise I’m done! I’ve tortured you enough,” Dream giggled at how on edge the elder was, standing up from the couch and scooping the smaller boy up in his arms and making him shriek before he could even uncover his eyes. “At least for today.” 
“DREAM! What- whahat are you dohoing?!” George kicked his legs a few times as Dream carried him bridal style towards the kitchen. All hopes of containing his blush were gone as George thought about how effortlessly Dream could lift him, carrying him like he weighed nothing. He was still giggling as Dream set him down to sit on the counter a few seconds later, squirming to the side slightly when the blonde briefly wiggled his pointer finger into his side.
“Grabbing snacks! I’ve decided we’re gonna watch a movie now.” Dream explained, turning his back to George as he began to rummage through the cabinets for anything he thought looked good. 
“Oh yeah?” George couldn’t help the softness showing through his sarcasm, watching as the younger boy turned around with an arm full of popcorn and candy. 
“Yes,” He replied, handing George the snacks and picking up again, heading towards the theater room. “And since I almost killed you, I guess you can pick what movie we watch.”
The elder let out an over exaggerated shriek of excitement, making Dream jerk his head to the side to protect his ear from the volume of George’s voice. He once again couldn’t stop thinking about how easily Dream was holding him. Without permission, he let out a small squeak, eyes growing wide as they met Dream’s in embarrassment. 
The two broke out into giggles as Dream sat him down on one of the cushioned theater chairs, dropping the snacks on his own chair while George situated himself. Dream went and retrieved a huge blanket from the basket in the corner of the room, draping it over the two as he settled in next to George. Dream ripped open a pack of M&M’s, giggling through an eye roll as George leaned over into the younger boy’s space with his mouth wide open. 
“You’re such an idiot.” He shook his head fondly as he dropped two into George’s mouth anyway. The brunette giggled as he closed his mouth with a ‘smack’, sliding down in his chair to rest his back against the cushions as he pressed the button to recline it. Dream did the same, snuggling in closer to George and moving the snacks onto the blankets on top of them. 
“Watch it, or I’ll make you watch Harry Potter for the twentieth time.” 
“Oh God, I’ll never speak again, don’t worry.” 
“Dreheam!” The blonde was met with a soft smack on his bicep from a very giggly George, and he couldn’t help but laugh at his snarky comment himself. 
Dream watched as he grabbed the remote from the arm of the chair, opening the streaming app and flicking through the movie options. He let out a contented sigh, allowing himself to relax into the chair and closer to George. It was only when George picked a movie that he finally settled down, cuddling in closer to Dream and resting his head against the younger boy’s shoulder. 
Yes, George may have been tickled to the brink of death by his menace of a best friend, but if it meant ending in night like this, he would do it all over again in a heartbeat.
(you can find this fic on ao3 here!)
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obsessedasusual · 2 years
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A Beautiful Night in the Neighbourhood - Tig Trager x Reader
Pairing: Tig Trager x Reader
Warnings: Smut, swearing, pining... the whole sh-bang!
Summary: You decide to take Tig up on his oh so generous offer, kinda.
Note: I loved the dynamic with these two so had to add to the story. It's cliche, it's self indulgent. I love this curly headed mess.
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It had been a number of weeks since Tig had joined you for dinner. You’d seen him quite a bit since then. Being neighbours you couldn’t really avoid him even if you had wanted to. You hadn’t taken him up on his offer of “breaking your dry spell” and he hadn’t mentioned it again.
You had tried to put the idea out of your mind, tried to forget it completely. But some nights were extra lonely and unfortunately, as sad as it was, your favourite battery-operated boyfriend didn’t always provide the heat you craved. Those were the nights you let your mind wander and your imagination run wild.
There was no time for that tonight however, you were busy slaving away in the kitchen, cooking up a storm for your son’s seventh birthday tomorrow. How the hell is that kid seven already? If you thought about it too hard you’d surely end up spilling a few tears, which is part of the reason why you didn’t mind Tig letting himself in, helping himself to a beer from your fridge and hovering around you in the kitchen like a God-damned pest.
“Tig, I swear to God if you swipe anymore cake batter I’ll choke you with it.” Alex was in bed hours ago. If he went to sleep early he wouldn’t have to wait as long for his party, your reasoning was more than enough to get him zooming to his bedroom.
“I take my job very seriously, Y/N,” he had made himself ‘chief taste tester’, “You could’ve had me as security. This is on you.”
That had been a conversation from earlier, “No one’s gonna try anything with a Son guarding the door,” “Tig, who the fuck is gonna try something at a seven year old’s birthday party?”
You pushed Tig away from the sweet treats that decorated the counter and set him the job of cutting the ingredients for the pizzas – yep, you were the mom that went all out for special occasions.
A little while passed and you soon found yourselves studying the cake you had just finished icing.
“Well… it’s not, not a motorbike.” The curly haired man offered. You let out a defeated laugh and dropped your forehead against Tig’s shoulder.
“That was harder than the video said it was gonna be.”
He wrapped his arm around you, lightly pulling you closer to press a kiss to your head while you ignored the twist of your stomach, “I’m kidding, doll, it looks great.”
“You’re so full of shit, Trager.” You giggled, pulling away.
The next day the party came and went in the blink of an eye and by the time the last kid had gone home, you were asleep on your feet.
Tig had made an appearance as promised to your son until he had been called away on ‘club shit’, but not before gifting Alex a water gun and leaving with a wink and a smirk. Naturally a water fight among the kids had followed, the parents becoming the victims caught in the crossfire.
You set about cleaning the mess in peace. Your sister had turned up from Lodi with your nephews in tow, and when it came time for them to head out, the three cousins begged and pleaded to let Alex stay with them for the night. You hadn’t been quick to agree, wanting to spend the evening with your son, but your sister worked some of her charm on you and before you knew it you were waving them off down the road.
You looked at what was left of the mess and sighed. There was a lot of food leftover, too much for you and Alex to take care of before it went bad, looks like Tig’s getting some leftovers.
Tig opened the door barely a second after you knocked, causing you to startle and almost drop the containers you were balancing in one arm, “Jesus, Tig. You waiting for me or something?’
“Sorry, doll. Saw you walking up from the window. Whatcha got there?” he reached forward to grab the containers and turned to walk back into his house. You rolled your eyes and followed.
“There was so much food leftover, no way me and the kid would get through it.”
He cracked open one of the containers he had sat on the bench and shot you a smile when he saw the variety of food inside, “I’m gonna put a ring on that finger one day.”
“Can’t wait.” You giggled.
“What? Don’t wanna marry me?” he stepped closer to you, his stupid smirk refusing to leave his face. You smirked right back, spotting his gaze flick down to your lips, back up to your eyes and to your lips again.
“Don’t think you could handle me, Trager.” You joked, stepping past him to grab the containers and get them in the fridge. When you turned back you found yourself looking directly at Tig’s chest, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. You lifted your head and saw he was already staring down at you.
“I could handle you just fine, baby.” His voice was low, one hand raising to brush your hair behind your ear.
You found yourself holding your breath, waiting and wanting, “Tig-“
He cut you off by dipping his head and capturing your lips in a soft kiss, testing the waters.
When he pulled back he kept his hands at the back of your neck and looked down at you, but your gaze was only on his lips.
He was almost hesitant, bringing his lips to yours again. You had to admit that you were a bit hesitant yourself, not because you didn’t want it to happen, but because you hadn’t expected it to happen in the first place, and because you didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself if Tig suddenly pushed you away
But he didn’t push you away. Once he realized you weren’t pulling to get away from him, he pulled you impossibly closer and moved his lips gently against yours.
When his tongue lightly moved across your bottom lip is when you snapped back to reality and all but threw yourself at him. Your arms wound around his neck, one hand sneaky into his hair and you gripped it, making him grunt into your mouth.
It was messy, there was nothing delicate about his kiss anymore and you found yourself wanting more. His tongue fought yours as he moved one hand to your waist and squeezed. You jumped and let out a small squeal at the feeling causing Tig to pull back and stare at you, “You ticklish, doll?”
You shook your head quickly, humming out a mm-mm in protest and tried to pull him back to meet your eager lips. He happily obliged and gave you another wet kiss before squeezing at your waist again, “Tig!”
“You are so.” He was chuckling at you now as moved back to capture your mouth. The hand left your waist and slid down to grab a handful of your ass through your jeans, causing you to moan out against him.
“More.”
“More, baby?” his mouth moved from your lips, trailing kisses along your jaw before settling on a spot wear your neck met your shoulder, working at it until he was certain there’d be evidence of him tomorrow. Taking his reward in the form of your soft moans. And fuck, did he want to hear more of those.
You couldn’t believe how hot and bothered you were from only making out. You knew it had to do with more than just your dry spell, it was the man you were with, “I need you, Tig. Please.”
He pulled your hips flush against his and you could feel all of him through his jeans.
“You need me, baby?” He pulled back and leant his forehead against yours breathing heavily. “You sure you want this?”
You didn’t hesitate for a second, nodding against him, “Yes. Please.”
He gave you another heated kiss, murmuring against your lips, “Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want.”
“You.”
He hummed, “What do you want from me hmm?”
You stared at the floor mumbling to yourself.
“Can’t hear ya, doll. Look at me. What do you want?”
“Jesus Christ okay! Fuck me, Tig. Please just-“ he cut you off with a searing kiss, leaning down to grip your thighs as you jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist. The two of you hit into the wall a few times as he stumbled you to his bedroom blindly, refusing to disconnect your lips.
You fell against a soft bed and immediately shed your top, Tig taking this moment to take in the sight before him, “Fucking gorgeous.”
You smiled at him, grabbing at his collar and pulling him in for another kiss, unbuttoning his shirt as you did so.
He made quick work of discarding your jeans somewhere in the room, his following suit. Kissing you softly he trailed his down your stomach rubbing you gently over your underwear, causing you to moan out in relief, “Yeah, baby?”
You let out a small whine as he applied more pressure, nodding and trying to grind back against his hand.
Tig was achingly hard at this point, completely driven by how you responded to his touch, how much you wanted him. He moved to rid you of your bra and straight away his mouth went to your chest, biting softly. Your underwear was next to go. Tig let out a groan when he saw how wet you were for him, “Can I taste you, baby?”
Christ, if it had been a year since you last had sex, it must’ve been closer to two since someone last went down on you.
“Please, Tig.” And with that he pressed the first kiss of many to your core, moaning obscenely at the first taste.
Your moans were constant as you writhed against his mouth lapping at your clit, “Jesus… fuck, Tig.”
At one particular hard suck your hand flew to the back of his head and you tried to pull him closer, grinding as best you could against his face. Tig could feel your body tense up as he drew you closer to your peak.
“Taste so good, baby. You gonna cum for me, Y/N?” it was the first time he’d called you by your name that night and that way it sounded, God you could have it on repeat for a week.
Tig ran his tongue over you, again and again, finally deciding to take you over the edge and sealing his mouth around your clit and sucking.
“Yes Tig, please. So close. Gonna… uh!” The grip you had on his hair tightened remarkably and he let out a deep moan against your core, the vibrations are what got you to the finish line. You came with a loud cry, hips rocking against his mouth, riding the feeling as long as you could. His tongue kept going at your oversensitive nub until you were all whimpers and kicking at his shoulder, needing to catch your breath.
His lips left your core and he moved back up and in for another heated kiss, you could taste yourself on his tongue and fuck if it didn’t make the situation hotter.
He wrapped your legs around his waist and held you steady to grind his hips into yours, moaning at your naked heat through his boxers, “You feel how hard you make me, baby?”
You reached lower to tug his boxers down, wrapping your hand around his length, he let out a muffled fuck and thrust into your hand.
When he finally pushed into you were both lost in a world of pleasure. Thrusting, kissing, biting, you couldn’t keep up even if you tried. All you could do was grip his hair and lose yourself in the feeling. So this is what you had been missing? Damn.
Somehow, Tig knew exactly how make you feel what you wanted to feel, how to bring you to the brink and hold you there until he was well and ready. You could feel him everywhere. His hands, his mouth, reaching anywhere they could. His grunts pushed you further into bliss and you soon found yourself falling over the edge at high speed, unable to form coherent sentence. Tig groaned at the feeling and thrust harder, losing his rhythm as he now chased his own high.
He came with a broken moan, right in your ear and collapsed on your chest, completely out of breath.
You stayed in that position for what felt like forever, and for that time you just enjoyed the weight on top of you.
Tig placed a sweet kiss to your neck and then your jaw, pushing himself up slightly to capture your lips. You sighed into the kiss, content. He pulled back to rest his forehead against yours and gave you a smirk.
“You good, baby?”
You nodded your head lightly, nose brushing along his, “So good.”
His smirk widened to a smile, giving you another hard kiss before rolling off you and pulling you to his side, “Just so you know, now I’ve had you in my bed. There’s no getting rid of me.”
“Getting clingy already, Tiggy?” you teased, tracing shapes on his chest.
Tig barked out a laughed, pressing a kiss to your hairline, “You have no idea, baby.”
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hacked-by-jake · 1 year
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𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙗𝙗𝙡𝙚
Pairing: Jake x fem!MC Genre: Comfort / Fluff Words: 866 A/n: Hey Ho! Yep, I know I’ve done something similar before [check here]. However, I had a migraine attack last night and was just like MC. I wish I had a Jake, I needed one. Since I don’t have one, I wrote it down. It is, as so often, just something small, do not expect too much. This is kinda self indulged. Hope you like it anyway. Please excuse the mistakes. 💚
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In the middle of the night a pain-distorted moan penetrated directly to his ear and the young hacker opened his eyes worried. "MC?" He asked quietly and looked to the side in the dark room. "Jake" she croaked and immediately he knew that something was completely wrong.
"What is wrong?" He moved a little closer.
She lay on her side, face away from him. Dimly he could see that she had placed a hand on her forehead and kept her eyes closed. It took her a moment to answer. "Migraine" she pressed out.
Shit. "Did you already take a painkiller?"
"No, there are no more in my bedside cabinet."
He instantly hit the duvet to the side and moved as carefully as possible as he stood up from the bed so that MC was not touched by his movements. "I’ll get you one." He whispered and left the room quietly.
Although the apartment of the two was still shrouded in pure darkness, he managed to move elegantly and without bumping into something straightaway into the kitchen. Only there, when MC could no longer get dazzled, he switched on the light.
Quickly he opened the cupboard in which the medicines are stored and took out the pack of special migraine tablets. He reached for a bottle of water, which was standing on the kitchen countertop. In addition, he took a cooling pad from the freezer and also a small towel, which he wrapped around the pad. He left the kitchen again in the dark and hurried to get back to MC, clutching everything under his arm.
Once there, he heard her whimper again, which hit him directly into his – only for her beating – heart. "I’m here, MC, can you sit up?" He asked and sank on the mattress next to her. Putting the bottle on the bedside table and placing the cooling pad next to him.
"I don’t know, I’m so dizzy, my head feels so hot."
"Let me help you," he reached for her free hand, pushing the other one under her, grasping her shoulders and helping her to gently straighten up.
She leaned against the backrest, still keeping her eyes closed.
The young hacker carefully gave her the cooling pad by gently pulling away the hand she had laid on her forehead, placing the cool aid slightly on this very spot. Reflexive MC guided her hand back, pressing the pad against her head. A pleasurable sound came out of her mouth as the cold welcomed, hugged her and briefly distracted her from the pain.
Jake quickly opened the bottle, then grabbed the pill to break it in the middle. He knew MC has trouble swallowing meds when she has such bad migraines.
"Here," he whispered, giving her the first half.
He helped her to sit up more straight and handed her the water. It took MC a few seconds before she managed to lift her arm to clamp the half of the tablet between her lips. She took the bottle, carrying it to her mouth. To make it less difficult, Jake kept holding the end of the flask supportive while his girlfriend drank a few sips. A few more senconds passed before she managed to flush the pill down.
Disgusted, she grimaced as the bitter ingredient spread into her mouth. Sympathetically, Jake did the same, pursing his lips while MC repeated it with the second half of the drug.
When that was done, he put the still open bottle back on the nightstand. If MC wanted to drink some more, she did not have to open it first.
"Lie back down" the black-haired hacker gently demanded while removing the blanket so that she could slide down. She lay down on her right side and as he wrapped the fabric around her body.
Slowly he went around the bed to carefully crawl behind her. She automatically slid backwards until her back touched his chest.
He pushed one arm under her neck until she was lying on his upper arm, then he detached her hand by holding the cooling pad for her and allowing MC to relax her arm.
Immediately, she reached back to grab his other hand to cross their fingers with each other. She pulled her legs up to her upper body, dragging herself back against him, and curled up in his arms like a helpless puppy suffering from pain. The hacker’s thumb lightly stroked the back of her hand to signal that he was here and was watching over her.
"Try to get some more sleep" he breathed a kiss on the back of her head. The young woman did not answer, but only nodded slightly.
And so the two lay there, surrounded by soothing darkness.
Jake self only closed his eyes after he was sure that MC had fallen asleep again. Only then he granted himself to also get a little more rest.
But he did not really fell asleep, it was more of a doze. One eye and one ear awake and ready to help her at all times if the attack does not subside. This will be the case for the remainder of his life.
𓁹
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jeysbvck · 2 years
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if you're lost, you can look (and you will find me)
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A/N: the eddie munson brainrot is real! i started writing this at 2am on monday morning, and i've been working on it all week. i had a lot of ideas for this, and i had to take a lot out, so i might be doing a part 2, with more plot! thank you to @mayhem24-7forever, @rishlurh, @aprilfire18 & @talespinner230 for giving me a kick up the butt when i needed motivation and validation<3 not beta read because i'm impatient and didn't wanna wait any longer to post!
warnings: mention of parental death, marijuana use, language, angst, fluff (like full cheesy fluff), no s4 spoilers, it's basically a really self indulgent fic bc why the hell not?
word count: 3.5k
summary: It was a record of Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper, and your grin got wider, for no reason other than he had bought you a record, and maybe a little at the thought of Eddie Munson buying a Cyndi Lauper record. You turned the record over in your hands as you looked up at Eddie.
"Thanks Munson." You said, then you chuckled. "Why this song, though? I mean, it's a fucking great song, but..." You trailed off.
Eddie shrugged, a small blush creeping over his cheeks as he tried to hide behind his mass of curls and ringed hand.
"It just reminded me of you." He mumbled.
You had been at this party for an hour and you were already regretting the decision to come. You had allowed your friend, well, more accurately colleague, to drag you here, and within twenty minutes they had disappeared on you, leaving you completely alone at a high school party. So now here you were, smoking a blunt in a stranger's garden.
"Do my eyes deceive me, or is this Y/N at a party?!"
Eddie Munson. He'd been your best friend since the beginning of high school when you ended up partnered up in Science. You quickly realized you had a lot in common and became inseparable. You both liked the same music, you both played Dungeons and Dragons, and you were both seen as freaks by most people in school. You weren't really friends anymore though, you had dropped out of school - and life - after your Dad's passing.
You rolled your eyes as you took the smoke into your lungs. "What's up Munson, you not babysitting tonight?" You asked as you exhaled.
"Ha ha, very funny. You know, some people would say it's adorable I'm friends with kids." Eddie replied and you sniggered.
"Others would say creepy." You said, and Eddie gasped as he joined you on the floor, your backs against the wall. You offered him the blunt and he took it from your fingers, thanking you as he took a long drag.
"I know you miss D&D." Eddie said while he held the smoke in his lungs. "You should join us, you know, for old times’ sake."
Mental images of you and Eddie playing Dungeons and Dragons filled you with so much nostalgia and a sense of happiness that seemed like a lifetime ago. You took another drag and blew the smoke out slowly.
"When are you gonna let go of the past, Munson? Things change. People change." You said with a shrug.
"Is that you trying to tell me you've changed?" Eddie asked, not even attempting to hide his laugh. You looked at him, with your head resting back on the wall and you raised your eyebrow at him. You watched as he took a drag of the blunt, before breathing the smoke out slowly, a surprisingly mesmerizing moment. Before your mind could take you to places you had avoided for months, Eddie spoke again.
"Okay, is your favorite band Fleetwood Mac?" Eddie asked.
"Of course."
"Is your favorite film A New Hope?" He asked, and you flicked your tongue over your lips as you smirked.
"Yep." You replied and he grinned.
"Oh really? Or is your favorite film actually Dirty Dancing?!" Eddie shouted, gleefully and you laughed.
"Dirty Dancing is a fantastic film with an incredible soundtrack!" You replied,
"Okay, okay, do you still have your teddy bear? What was its name...?"
"Mr. Fuzzy." You mumbled and Eddie cackled as he threw his head back against the wall. "What exactly are you trying to prove, Munson?"
"I thought it was obvious...that you haven't changed as much as you think you have." He replied, the blunt dangling in between his lips. You took it from his mouth and shook your head.
"Just because some things haven't changed, doesn't mean I haven't." You replied, defensively.
"Nah, you hide behind the walls you've built, but you're still the same person who loved Dungeons and Dragons and who used to hide behind a pillow when we watched horror films." Eddie said softly.
“Yeah well, I only watched them because you wanted to.” You revealed, and Eddie’s face softened, which is something you’d noticed happened pretty frequently when you spoke to each other.
You wished he was right, but he wasn't. You had let your trauma and grief consume you, you'd put a barrier between you and the world, including the only person you had left to care about, Eddie Munson. You knew that if you just opened up, Eddie wouldn't hesitate to be there for you; he'd done it before, after all. But you didn't want to be a burden, and honestly, you'd started to believe you were cursed. Everyone you ever loved; first your mother and now your dad, had died, and you as ridiculous as it was, had let the demons in your head convince you it was your fault.
"You don't know me anymore." You said to him, and he scoffed slightly.
"Whose fault is that?" He asked. You knew he didn't mean anything by it, but it struck a nerve. Of course, it did, you knew it was your fault.
"I'm gonna go." You said as you stubbed the end of the blunt against the wall, and you stood up. "Thanks for the trip down memory lane, Munson, really." You said, with a sad smile.
"See you around, Darling." He replied, and as you walked away, you couldn't help but smile at his use of his old nickname for you.
****
For the next two days, all you did was think about Eddie fucking Munson, and how he used that nickname. You weren't stupid, you knew exactly what he was trying to do, and it had worked. It had unlocked something inside you, something you'd kept successfully locked away for a year; and yet all it had taken was one god damn nickname.
As you made your weekly drive to The Hideout, you thought about the conversation that led to the nickname Eddie had come up with for you.
"I remind you of...Peter Pan?" Eddie spluttered. "The guy in the green tights? Is this supposed to be a nice way of telling me I need to grow up?"
"Well..." You replied before you giggled at his wide-eyed look. "I'm not, I promise! I just mean...well, you're daring and adventurous, you're charming and you're carefree, and I swear you're gonna be eternally youthful, just like Peter Pan! You explained.
Eddie pondered your reasonings before he grinned. "So, if I'm Peter Pan...does that make you my Wendy?" Eddie questioned.
"Wendy? I'm not Wendy!" You pouted. "I'm clearly Tinkerbell!"
"No, no, you're Wendy! You're caring, you're responsible, but when you're with me, you seem to relax, you're a little more wild and adventurous, just like Wendy!"
"I'm stubborn, constantly irritated, hot-tempered, and determined! Just like Tinkerbell!" You argued.
"Tinkerbell was also in love with Peter Pan, are you trying to tell me something with your comparison?"
"Wendy was his love interest too, Eddie."
"Okay, that's a fair point." Eddie chuckled. "You do bring up some good points, m'lady, but I stand by that you're Wendy."
"Ugh, I hate you." You mumbled, crossing your arms. Eddie laughed and flung his arm over your shoulders as he pulled you into his side.
"I know, Darling." He replied, and the blush on your cheeks and the feeling in your chest meant you didn't really mind being his Wendy.
You parked the car next to the back alley of the building and climbed out of it, waving to Tommy, the 40-something-year-old owner of The Hideout, who was smoking next to the dumpsters, seemingly hiding his habit from his wife of 15 years, Ruth.
"Hey, Trouble." He greeted you, pushing his greying hair out of his face. You'd known Tommy since you were 8, with him being best friends with your dad. You couldn't remember why he called you Trouble, but you didn't mind. It was the last little link to your dad that you had left. "How you doing?"
"I'm alright, are you hiding from Ruth?" You questioned, glancing pointedly at the cigarette in between his fingers.
"Maybe a little bit." Tommy chuckled. "Are you still hiding from Eddie?"
Your cheeks started to flush, but you shook your head vehemently. "I'm not hiding from anyone."
Tommy's booming laugh echoed through the alleyway as he took a drag. "Well, just in case you are, he was loitering around the kitchen before."
"Thanks, Tommy."  You said, with a smile as you opened the door. Then you stopped and turned to face him again. "You, uh- haven't told him, have you? That I come every week?"
"Not hiding from anyone, huh?" Tommy grinned. "Don't you worry Trouble, my lips are sealed. Although, you should talk to him. Take it from this old man, it'd mean a lot to Eddie."
"I'll think about it." You promised, earning a wink from Tommy before you headed inside. Luckily, you could hear the bands soundcheck as you walked through the kitchen, so there was no chance of bumping into Eddie, and you managed to slip in undetected.
You kept telling yourself that you didn't know why you'd stopped talking to Eddie, but you were lying to yourself. It was difficult -between your dad passing away and being forced out of the house you grew up in, and moving to the trailer park, and your rapidly growing feelings for Eddie - you felt truly alone for the first time in your life. Really, this should've brought you closer to Eddie; he lived in the trailer park and he was your friend, he'd been there for you before. Instead, you pulled away, distanced yourself, and used your grief as an excuse. It was a valid excuse, but an excuse all the same. You soon became a shell of the person you used to be, and you hated it; but you didn't want to be a burden to Eddie, and you were scared that if you let yourself be happy and move on, you'd forget your dad.
But on one Tuesday night, three months after you'd last seen Corroded Coffin play at The Hideout, you found yourself driving past after a shift at the animal shelter. Your curiosity got the better of you and you turned into the parking lot, entered the bar, and hid in the back. When you saw Eddie on stage, having the time of his life, your frozen heart began to melt. He looked like he completely belonged up there, and you realized how much you missed him. Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to talk to him, so instead, every Tuesday night, you'd sneak through the kitchen, hide at the back of the bar in the shadows, then slip out before Eddie could see you. And when Eddie initiated conversation every so often, you never once brought it up.
Something about tonight was different, though. While watching Eddie on stage, you noticed he seemed distracted, looking into the crowd as if he was looking for someone specific. You couldn't help but wonder if he'd invited someone, if he had a crush or a girlfriend. You tried to ignore the sick feeling bubbling in your stomach, the feeling you recognized as jealousy. You and Eddie were barely friends, which was completely on you; you had no right to be jealous, and Eddie deserved happiness.
You sighed and slipped through the crowd, towards the kitchen door, making an early exit, but not before taking one last look at Eddie on the stage, who was scanning the crowd again, only this time, his eyes were planted on where you'd just been standing. As you turned out the door, you didn't see Eddie had noticed you as you left.
****
After a stressful day at the animal shelter, you were looking forward to a quiet night, but when you pulled up to your trailer and saw Eddie sitting on the steps waiting for you, you had a feeling a quiet day wasn't on the cards. You were puzzled though, he usually kept your interactions to - at the most - once a week, so this was unusual.
"What are you doing here?" You asked, slamming the car door behind you.
"I was having a smoke, and I knew you'd be home soon." He replied, jumping off the step, holding his hands behind his back.
"What, 'cos you know me so well?" You snipped and he shrugged.
"Well, yeah, but also because I heard your shitty car from five miles away!" He retorted and you rolled your eyes. You walked past him, which made him jump backward, keeping whatever he was hiding behind his back away from you. This piqued your interest and you raised your eyebrow as you tried to peek around him, but he just grinned as he stepped backward some more.
"Alright Munson, what's going on?"
"I haven't heard you play your record player for a while, do you still have it?" Eddie asked.
"Yeah...why?"
"I have something for you. Consider it a birthday gift."
"Are you forgetting my birthday was four months ago?" You smirked.
"Are you forgetting you weren't exactly talking to me then?" He snapped back, a twinkle in his stupidly beautiful brown eyes.
"I'm barely talking to you now, so why the gift?" You retorted.
"Just...here."
He pulled a bag from behind his back and you took it from his outstretched hand, ignoring and definitely not wondering if he felt the sparks that you felt when your hands touched. You furrowed your brow and glanced up at him as he watched you pull out the gift with big brown eyes and bated breath.
It was a record of Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper, and your grin got wider, for no reason other than he had bought you a record, and maybe a little at the thought of Eddie Munson buying a Cyndi Lauper record. You turned the record over in your hands as you looked up at Eddie.
"Thanks Munson." You said, then you chuckled. "Why this song, though? I mean, it's a fucking great song, but..." You trailed off.
Eddie shrugged, a small blush creeping over his cheeks as he tried to hide behind his mass of curls and ringed hand.
"It just reminded me of you." He mumbled. Your eyes widened as you pursed your lips, stifling a laugh. "I heard it on the radio, alright? In the truck on the way to band practice!"
"Sure, whatever you say." You giggled. "You wanna come in and listen to it with me?"
Eddie gasped, and you threw your head back in exasperation as Eddie staggered backwards, dramatically. "Whoa, hold up. Are we about to hang out?"
"Are you going to make a big deal out of it?"
"Me? When have you known me to ever make a big deal out of anything?!" He shouted, and you were pretty sure the whole of Hawkins heard him.
"Oh my God, Munson." You laughed, unlocking your trailer door. "Just get in here, and you better have some smokes, you're not stealing all mine!"
***
A few hours had passed, and truthfully, you could've stayed in this bubble forever. With you lying on the floor, and Eddie lying on the couch, a cigarette hanging lazily from his mouth; the record player played quietly in the corner, you were starting to feel a resemblance of how you used to before everything went to shit.
"So...I know you were at my show last night." Eddie said. He'd tried to make it sound casual, but you knew that he'd be wanting to say something since he got here.
Just play dumb, just play dumb. "Was I?"
"Yep. Your car was parked behind the building, near the back exit for the kitchen."
Fuck.
"Oh."
"Oh? OH? That's all you have to say?!" Eddie exclaimed, his head whipping up off the arm of the couch to look at you. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming? Where were you stood? I couldn't see you anywhere."
"Um-"
"What did you think? We've gotten better, right?" Eddie was swarming you with questions and you groaned loudly.
"Oh my God, Munson, chill out with the fucking questions!" You half yelled, and his face dropped slightly.
"I'm sorry! I just don't know why you wouldn't mention it. Your first show in a year and you don't tell me you're coming? We've been friend-"He caught himself, and sighed. "-we've been back on talking terms for ages now, I just don't understand why you hid?"
"Drop it, Munson." You warned.
"You know, it's really fucking suspicious that you won't answer me."
"I just don't want to talk about it."
"Well, why not?" Eddie pestered. He began to say your name, over and over, shoving you with his foot that dangled off the couch.
"Oh my God, fine!" You yelled. "Maybe that wasn't the first show I've been to."
Silence fell over the trailer as the record scratched, signaling the end of the album. You glanced up at Eddie, who was staring at you, or rather, through you. He had big, Bambi eyes anyway, but you had never seen them this wide. His jaw was practically on the floor, and you sat up just enough to put your fingers under his chin and close his mouth.
"It's not that serious, Munson." You said, leaning across the table to grab the half-smoked blunt and a lighter. You sparked the blunt and took three tokes, before offering it to Eddie.
"You, uh- you've been to our shows?" He squeaked.
You nodded and watched closely as he bobbed his head and smoked. Then he looked back at you, passing the blunt back to you. "When did you start coming again?"
"Does it matter?" You asked.
"It does to me." He replied. You groaned as he shrugged, his face very much mirroring a puppy begging for attention. There was something about Eddie that you always had a hard time saying no to, especially when he pulled this goddamn face on you.
"I hadn't been to a show in three months." You muttered, stubbing the end of the blunt into the ashtray.
"You've been coming for that long, and you didn't say anything?!"
"Of course I didn't! In case you haven't noticed, I've been a fucking mess!" You exploded, and the words tumbled out, like all your thoughts and feelings had finally spilled over, and they needed to come out. "I just...I got curious, and I got to the door, and I could hear you playing, and I just, I needed to see you. So I stayed in the back, hiding behind people, and I saw you on the stage looking so fucking badass and happy! I found myself coming back every week, to watch you, to see you. It was the only way I felt comfortable seeing you, and it didn't feel creepy, because you were on the stage. It's not like I had binoculars staring at you through the fucking trailer window! It's not like I ever stopped caring about you, or lov-" You caught yourself before you finished that thought, and you sighed.
At some point, Eddie had moved from the couch, to right next to you on the floor. He stared at you, fascinated, and a little amused by this rare insight into your brain, into your heart.
"You wanted to see me?" He grinned and you flung your arms up into the air as you threw yourself back onto the floor.
"Of course that's all you heard."
"No, no! I heard all of it!" Eddie insisted. "I hear everything you say, even the things you don't say!" He grabbed your hands and pulled you upright. "Why do you think I kept my distance, while also annoying you every so often?"
"Honestly, I thought you hated me." You confessed. Might as well, you thought, everything else was coming out today. You looked down at your fingers, which were playing with a thread of cotton from your ripped jeans.
"I didn't need to, you were hating yourself for the both of us." Eddie teased, but then he sighed. "Darling, I don't think I could ever hate you."
Your glanced up at him, surprised by how close he was to you. Your eyes locked with each other's, but not before yours darted to his lips, you were almost mesmerized by the way his tongue ran over them. Your heart began to race as you realized you couldn't take it anymore. You couldn't take pretending that you didn't need Eddie, that you didn't want him.
Your lips were inches from his, when he suddenly pulled away, just slightly. You pursed your lips as you leaned back, your heart dropping into your stomach, as the embarrassment of rejection washed over you. Eddie must've seen it in your face, because he grabbed your wrists gently, so you wouldn't pull away further.
"Look, I'm gonna be honest. I've been wanting to kiss you for a really long fucking time." Eddie confessed.
You felt your chest tighten, like someone was twisting your heart in their hand, and you tilted your head at him, confused.
"Okay, so what's the problem?"
"If I kiss you, I won't want to stop."
Your smirk turned into a full grin, and you sat on your knees, leaning closer to Eddie.
"So don't stop then, Eddie." You whispered.
The way you breathed his name was enough to drive him crazy. He removed his hands from your wrists, cupped your cheeks, and pulled you towards him, his lips crashing down onto yours. As you kissed, you felt the final block of ice that your heart had been caged in melt away. One of Eddie's hands left your cheek and slipped under your hair, clutching to the back of your head, as his other caressed your cheek, his rings cold against your burning cheek and you found yourself never wanting this to end.
Eddie was the first one to pull back, and he rested his forehead on yours, both of you grinning, as you gained your breath back.
"That was...something." Eddie said, and you giggled, nodding in agreement. You pulled away and Eddie pulled you into his side, his arm tight around you as you rested your head on his shoulder, his fingertips tracing your bare arm softly. "It's getting late, maybe I should go."
"Hmm, you could," You murmured, glancing up at Eddie through your lashes, "Or you could stay? I mean, you only live a few trailers down."
Eddie gasped dramatically, his hand on his chest, mimicking one of the old ladies down at the church, clutching her pearls. "You mean...?"
You stood up and walked backward as you grinned. "But if you wanna go home, that's fine by me."
You laughed as Eddie crawled quickly across the trailer on all fours, before he jumped to his feet. He flung you over his shoulder, as your laughter got louder.
"There is no fucking way I'm going home just yet, Darling." He growled as he carried you to the bedroom, your giggles echoing through the trailer, making his heart soar.
Maybe, just maybe, you were going to be able to get back to the way things were after all, with a little help from Eddie Munson.
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