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vivwritescrappythings · 1 month

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Twenty-Five

eddie munson x gn!reader

A self indulgent fic for my birthday today. I always cry on my birthday, no matter what, and this was inspired by my own boyfriend who is so lovely and sweet and Eddie reminds me of him all the time. But, nevertheless, treated this one like a diary entry more than a fic.

You always cry on your birthday, and this is the year Eddie finds out.

tw: crying, talks about death, panic attacks, angst, hurt/comfort, gender neutral reader but also heavily girl coded bc this is a self indulgent fic about my own life and I identify as a girl, not proofread

Word count: 2.8k

There’s something horrible about the way that time just keeps going no matter what. No stops, no returns. There’s no warning that something just happened for the last time, no flashing signs that say: Stop! You’ll never get to experience this again so savor it!

Everything just moves on and moves on and moves on.

Your thoughts are cyclical in nature, it takes you give or take 365 days to get to the same spot: crumpled somewhere private, crying. When you were young it used to be your parents’ walk-in closet, you would curl where your mother’s skirts met your father’s jeans and sob until you could hardly breathe. In your teen years the big meltdown would take place in your car, the beat up SUV felt like your own box of privacy to cry into the palms of your hands after school. You had to hide under the cover of your comforter in your dorm room, praying you were silent enough that your roommate didn’t notice.

This year is the same as any other, you feel like an anvil has been placed on your chest the second you open your eyes. Sunlight diffuses through the sheer lilac curtains over your bedroom window, tinging the morning with an eerie, dreamlike quality. Normally you find the color to be pleasant, mystical rather than gloomy.

Eddie is still asleep next to you, your gaze pulled to the gentle peace that has settled on his face. He’s never still and calm like this, you like to take your opportunities to absorb him in this state when possible. You resist the urge to press a kiss to his pink lips, deciding to let him catch these last few hours of sleep that you yourself have been deprived of.

He’s always been better at sleeping than you, the beginning few hours of most mornings spent on your own reading or watching some show in the other room. It doesn’t matter if you’re at his trailer or your apartment, you always wake up when the first dregs of sunlight hit your eyelids.

You pull yourself from bed with a soft groan, stretching and blinking in an attempt to ground yourself. Of course, it isn’t sufficient, the dizzy feeling of dread curling around your shoulders like a blanket as you emerge from your room into the modest kitchen of your single-room apartment. The bedroom door closes with a soft click behind you, just enough to shield Eddie and let him rest.

There are still a million tasks that you need to accomplish today. You’d made progress yesterday evening, dusting and scrubbing and rearranging every corner of your apartment in an attempt to make it look like no one had ever lived there. It was mostly accomplished, dishes still in the sink and pillows on the couch rumpled where you had been watching television.

While the coffee brews you set on your first task of the day, pulling the mixer out of a cupboard along with a large bowl you’d gotten from the thrift store. Baking while Eddie is asleep will be easier, his fingers no longer poking into the bowl for a taste or his puppy-dog eyes set on you like a weapon in an attempt to convince you to let him lick the spoon. The bowl you used to mix the cake batter yesterday sat in the sink, licked so clean that if you didn’t know any better you would have put it away.

It’s a miracle he didn’t make himself sick.

You put a record on to fill the emptiness, trying to keep your mind busy with tasks and noise so you don’t have a moment to sit down and think too much. By the time you flip to the B side, the red velvet cake you made was decorated in a thick layer of cream cheese frosting. You haphazardly press sprinkles onto its surface as decoration, not trusting your ability to pipe lettering on it.

It’s decent enough, you remind yourself to set your perfectionism aside as you return it to the cake stand in the corner of the kitchen and set about fussing with the rest of your apartment.

It’s easy enough to distract yourself while you have things to do. You don’t rest, jumping from one thing to the next in a journey that leads you from washing the dishes in the sink to straightening up the couch cushions to folding every blanket strewn across your living room.

But you can only keep going so long.

Eventually you run out of tasks, or out of steam. You’re not sure which hit first as you allowed yourself to fall onto the couch with a huff. The dread comes rushing back all at once, nearly paralyzing you as you gather up one of the meticulously folded blankets and cover yourself with it.

No matter what, no matter how many birthdays come and go, you always feel the same devastation of the years going by. With a start you realize that this is your first birthday that you no longer consider your parent’s house your home. It startles you, making you think back in an attempt to identify when the last time you referred to it as your home was.

What are they doing now? Surely they are awake by now, but they haven’t called. Probably giving you privacy, not wanting to wake you up in case you had a wild night to kick off your birthday weekend. It was rare, but it could have happened.

You should call them, but the thought of even talking to your mom right now is making your throat close. It’s all too much, everything is going too fast. You still remember your fourth birthday party, the one with the fairies and the cheap wings made of coathangers and your mother’s old stockings that all the little kids decorated. It gets you thinking about how you used to make crowns with her out of construction paper, emblazoned with crayon butterflies.

A sob wrenches from you before you even realize you are crying, it’s a horrible strangled sound that you hardly recognize as your own. Tears blur your vision as you check the bedroom door, praying that Eddie hadn’t heard.

After a few moments without movement, you let the tears fall and the misery engulf you.

It’s confusingly irrational and rational at the same time, the contradiction eating you up inside as you consider having an annual crisis over the inevitable death of your parents while still actively having the crisis. Your hysterics feel ridiculous, you’re twenty-five now, your frontal cortex is fully developed and you should be able to move on with the idea that someday they will be gone.

Gone.

Jesus. You wonder if every child feels this way or if you are the only one. The soft cushions of the couch welcome you as you slouch onto them, shoulders shaking as your face wedges into the corner of the sofa. Once the floodgates are open you can’t stop them, thinking about how there will eventually be a day that it's the last time you speak with them and you’ll never know it until it already happens.

You helplessly remind yourself that you always tell them you love them before you hang up phone calls, before you leave their home after weekend get-togethers and holidays and family dinners. But will you regret not spending more time with them? Will you look back someday and wish that you had spent more of your fleeting moments with people that were all too temporary despite the fact that they meant everything to you?

Do people with siblings feel like this? The solitude that comes with the idea of the death of a parent? You don’t know, doomed to be an only child and always carrying the burden of it on your shoulders and your shoulders alone.

You don’t know how long this meltdown lasts, crying and crying and crying about grief that is yet to happen, regrets you don’t even know you will have. No matter how hard you try to be rational and firmly rooted in the present, you find yourself mourning people who are still alive every year on the day that should be a celebration.

A gentle hand on your spine startles you from the spiral of your thoughts, shame and grief and guilt fraying your nerves as you choke on a sob. You stiffen like you are electrocuted, your shoulders curling in as you compress closer to the back of the couch.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Eddie’s voice is still groggy from sleep, raspy and soft in all your favorite ways.

You can only imagine his confusion, he probably woke up expecting you to be reading a book or finishing up your birthday cake instead of burrowing into your couch in a fit of tears.

Eddie has never been around for the quiet parts of your birthday, the moments where you hide yourself away and wallow. You’ve been friends for ten years now, dating for two of them, but you’ve still managed to keep this secret in the hollow of your heart and bear your misery alone.

“It’s okay,” you exhale, the simple words a staccato as you try to catch your breath. Your face is soaked with tears, you keep it mashed against the couch as you try to stuff everything you’re feeling back into the neat little box it sprung from.

He lets out a soft breath, his fingertips start to move up and down from the base of your skull to where your ratty and holey pajama bottoms hug your hips. “If it’s okay then what are you doing out here crying?”

You know the second you face him the temporary dam you have managed to build will come crashing loose. Eddie nevertheless manages to squeeze his long fingers into the space between your shoulder and the fabric of the couch, slowly turning you on your back to face him.

He looks so sweet, his hair gathered in a loose bun at the nape of his neck and his brown eyes round with concern as he looks down at you. Instead of sitting on the couch he’s kneeling next to it, his face closer to yours than you anticipated. You’re sure you look like a disaster, skin red and splotchy and eyes bloodshot. No matter how many times you rub the back of your hand across it you can’t stop your nose from running like a faucet and your lips are so swollen.

Eddie cups your cheek with a calloused hand, rubbing your tears away with his thumb as his brows furrow. “C’mon, baby, talk to me.”

The plea is so genuine that you immediately whine despite your attempts to steel yourself against your emotions. You burst into an additional round of tears, crying so hard that you are nearly choking. Despite your attempt to explain, your words are unintelligible, distorted by your sobs.

Eddie’s arms curl around you, warm even through the thin fabric of your sleep shirt. With no help on your part, he manages to pry you off the couch and into his lap, cradling you against the seat of the couch. As always, he just knows what to do.

He coaxes your head to find the curve of his neck, his fingers caressing the back of your skull as he remains silent. Rather than try to understand what’s going on right now, he just lets you cry it out.

Your tears soak into the back fabric of his cut off Metallica shirt, your arms winding around his torso as you cling to him. Eddie is so solid, he always has been when it comes to you. After knowing one another for a decade, he knows how to handle your storms, how to bring them down to a manageable size and get the gray clouds to go away.

Eventually the sobs slow, you take greedy pulls of air as your fingers twist in the fraying bottom edge of the shirt Eddie is wearing. He claimed there was something he found overstimulating about where the hem originally landed on his lanky frame, cutting it so slivers of his pale stomach were visible any time he moved. Your fingers pressed along the line of skin just above where the elastic of his boxers hung low.

“Do you, uh, just ever think about how everyone is gonna die?” In retrospect, you’re not sure if that’s how you’d phrase the question. It comes out mumbled and wet-sounding against his shoulder, your eyes squeezed shut as you attempt to explain.

He hums his acknowledgment, leaving you empty space to fill. It’s the telltale way he pulls things from you, knowing that if he doesn’t say anything you will babble to fill that silence.

“It’s stupid.” You squish yourself closer, briefly wishing that you could just sit inside his skin. “I just, uh, always think about how, like, when I get older on my birthday that everyone else gets older too?” The way you say it makes it sound like a question rather than a statement.

Again, just a sound of acknowledgement.

“It just is so shitty that everything goes so fast and my parents are getting older and someday I won’t have them and even though I’m older now I don’t even know anything and I have no idea how to do anything without them,” you babble, your gasping breaths interrupting the stream of consciousness spilling from you.

Now that you’ve started you can’t stop. “It’s like my birthday is a marker for how much time is changing and it feels so fast and I’m not ready to be by myself and get even older.” A few tears squeeze out of your eyes, your fingertips pressing into his torso.

“Why am I like this?” you whisper, the question defeated and soft.

“Because you are the most caring person I know, baby,” he murmurs in response, his arms winding around you completely as his hands rub up and down your arms. His cheek squishes into the crown of your head, his warm breath against your scalp. “But nothing is happening yet, and I know the way your brain works makes it feel so real to you even though it’s not real. It will be someday, but you can’t think about it like this right now.”

You nod slowly, trying to take deep breaths. The years of anxiety and guilt and paralyzing fear seem to melt away under his reassurance. “Never talked about this with anyone before,” you mumble into him, feeling deflated.

“You don’t have to do everything by yourself, baby,” Eddie says, pressing a quick kiss to the crown of your head. The two of you are in a tangle of limbs on the floor of your living room, holding each other close.

You nod against him, the simmering pot of emotions finally slowing down. “I love you,” you say, your words sounding thick and wet and so small.

“I love you too.” The way Eddie says it, you can hear his smile.

You don’t know why you keep this all to yourself, why you let everything bottle up and the emotions consume you. But you’re so thankful that it’s Eddie you have to talk to.

You finally lift your head, lip wobbling as you look up at him with wet eyes. His pink mouth is twisted into a smile, a kiss stamped against your forehead. “There you are,” he murmurs, a tinge of excitement in his tone like he just won a game of hide and seek. A hand comes up to wipe away the tears slicked across your cheeks, his calloused fingertips rough against your skin.

“Happy birthday, baby,” Eddie says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The cliff you were teetering on feels so far away now, your ribs no longer cracking apart under the weight of your guilt.

“Thank you,” you whisper, a sheepish smile settling on your face as you tilt your head up toward his. Eddie presses his lips to yours without hesitation, a hand caressing your jaw as he kisses you with such a fervor that you don’t think you can ever deny the fact that this boy loves you.

His brown eyes are soft as you pull apart, flicking over your face before settling on your gaze. “Now, how about we get dressed and go get some birthday waffles from the diner,” Eddie suggests, nudging your cheek with his nose. “Your mom told me she always makes you waffles for your birthday, but with my luck I’d probably burn your kitchen down.”

You laugh, Eddie’s expression coloring with pride as the sound rattles from you. “Yeah, okay, let’s go,” you murmur, nodding as you start to stand.

Eddie joins you, looping an arm around your shoulders and tugging you to the bedroom of your apartment. He keeps pressing kisses to your forehead, whispering little quips to you that keep earning peals of laughter.

He’d bend over backwards or lasso the sun just to make you smile, and you realize that Eddie is your favorite present this year.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #reader insert #eddie munson x gn!reader #joseph quinn #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things season 4 #eddie munson angst

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idontplaytrack · 25 days

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You & I

Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort. quarrelling, coarse language

In which reader’s home life is a mess and she would always run to Janis for comfort and safety.

Requested? Yes / No

p.s. I dunno if y’all are expecting a long one but its a pretty short one, I’m sorry😬

“I told you, I don’t care what you think- I go to work, and you’re at home so the chores are your problem.” Your Dad yells, his voice making your breath hitch. You tried to tune it out and just continued shoving whatever you could into your backpack, periodically glancing at your phone to see if Janis has responded to your text asking if you could go over.

“What the hell does she do all day?!” You heard vaguely. Screwing your eyes shut, you continued hearing, “She goes to school two, three days a week barely a few hours a day. You can’t ask her to help out?! It’s all on me?!”

With tears pricking at your eyes, you forcefully zipped up your backpack, grabbed your phone and made a mad dash down the stairs and straight to the front door. Nothing else was more important than getting out of that house before they could stop you, and before things got worse and stuff gets thrown everywhere. It was a goddamn blessing that Janis lived just 10 minutes away from you, so you could walk there. She calls you while you were on your way there, but she’s already responded to your earlier text that you could be over there anytime. You didn’t pick up, though. You were trying as hard as you could not to breakdown while in public.

Finally arriving at Janis’s you stood in front of her door, pressing the doorbell as you breath became laboured and the dreaded lump in your throat makes its presence known rudely.

“y/n.” Janis answered the door, knowing it was you. “Come on in, darling. I texted you to ask you to wait for me but you didn’t reply so I guessed that you were already on your way.”

The reason for your visit was almost instantly given away by the disheveled look of yours bulky backpack on your shoulder. She takes the backpack from you and led you to sit down. You did so, following her lead as you desperately attempted to blink your tears away. Janis wasn’t big on hugs but she saw you about to cry, she engulfs you in a hug without any hesitation, rubbing your back and telling you that you were okay. That’s never worked out well for you- you’ve always burst into tears when she says that.

Maybe it was because you knew you were truly safe here, physically and emotionally.

“Did they hit you, baby?” She asks quietly.

“No.” You choked on a sob.

She slowly broke away from the hug after a minute or so, analysing your arms and legs. “Babe, what’s the deal with that redness on your thigh?”

You looked at where she was pointing at, realising what she meant. “I was rushing around my room to pack my stuff into my bag, in a hurry. Bumped into a corner of my desk and it broke the skin.”

“You didn’t feel that?” Janis asks, worried.

“I didn’t. Until you pointed it out.” You winced.

She nodded, “Alright. I’m gonna go get the stuff to help you clean that up and a bandaid.”

You weren’t sure why, but once she even started to stand up, you started crying, telling her to stay with you. “Honey, it’s okay. I’m just going to get the first-aid kit. You’re bleeding.” Janis’ words were direct but not harsh. A small sigh falls from her lips as she took you by the hand to go grab the necessary items together with her. She wasn't mad at you and typically, you'd know that. But currently, you were so on the edge from what happened at home that every little thing could make you sob and have a meltdown.

————

As she dabbed the cotton pad with antiseptic on your wound to get it clean, you seethed, barely able to keep still as tears threatened to prick your eyes. "I'm sorry, baby. I know, it stings but I don't want it to get infected." She continues to do so while talking at you, as though a tactic to distract you and get you to focus on her instead. Did it work? Barely.

She carefully places a bandaid over the cleaned cut and told you she was going to throw away the trash in her hands. Now that you were a little bit calmer than before, you let her walk away alone. It didn't even take her a minute and you could see her, but in your mind, you know you just simply could not be alone until you felt completely safe and normalcy returns for you.

She asks you what you wanted to do but you didn't know. Nothing was on your mind. She asks if she could put her arms around you and hug you, knowing that sometimes, you didn't like that. But this time, you agreed to it. "Okay."

"Okay." Janis said back, gently wrapping her arms around you to hold you as she sat together with you on the couch. "Do you want the TV on or off?"

"It's fine, leave it on. You were probably watching something before I came over." You say, snuggling against her chest.

“Rewatching. Charmed.” She smiled a little, “You wanna watch with me?”

“So you can tell me I look like one of the sisters again?” You joked.

“Maybe.” She grins.

“Come on, you know you like the show. Stop denying it.” She giggled, reaching for the remote to press play.

“Which one’s your favourite?” You asked mindlessly, not intending on focusing on the show.

“Baby, I’ve told you this- Phoebe Halliwell was my gay awakening.” Janis replies.

“Really? I thought it was Prue.”

“Maybe her too.” Janis hugs you tighter, “So you were listening.”

“Of course I was.”

Unknowingly, you were at ease, no longer struggling to breathe or on the verge of tears. “I like Prue.” You mentioned casually.

“Oh, yeah?” She looks at you, brushing the hair out of your face as she presses a kiss on your lips, “Maybe I should give you a little treat some time and dress up like her.”

You chuckled, kissing her in reciprocation. “Thanks. For cheering me up. And…everything, really.”

“Anytime, darling.”

#auli’i cravalho #janis ‘imi’ike #janis ‘imi’ike x fem reader #x reader #reader insert #female reader #hurt/comfort #fluff #crush #wlw fanfic #wlw post #lgbtqia #queer #fanfic #mean girls 2024

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beskarandblasters · 8 months

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This Love Came Back to Me

Cassian Andor x F!Reader

Part two for Summer Fling, Don’t Mean a Thing

Main Masterlist | Cassian Andor Masterlist

Author’s note: Ahhh part two is finally here!! I love these two together and I couldn’t not give them a happy ending!! Sorry it took a while and thank you for being patient with me!

Summary: Summer is coming to an end and you find yourself still thinking of Cassian. After trying to move on with someone else and failing, you walk home and find that everything you’re looking for has come back to you.

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, mentions of drinking, angst, mentions of weight loss, reader has hair long enough to be pulled, oral sex (M and F receiving), fingering, semi public sex, vaginal sex, creampie, super fluffy smut, use of pet names (sweetheart, baby, my love), no use of y/n

(I’m fully aware that this is a gif of Cassian and Jyn but this is how I picture your reunion with him😭 As always no/very little physical descriptions are used for the reader)

“You have to get over him, girl.”

“I can’t,” you reply blankly, staring off into space.

It’s been roughly thirty days since you’ve seen Cassian. You thought by now the heartache would get better but in fact it’s been the complete opposite. Mara crouches down in front of the chair you’re sitting on in the break room and meets your gaze.

“He left without saying a word. As far as I’m concerned he’s dead to you; to us.”

You feel the tip of your nose tingle like you’re about to cry. You close your eyes to avoid any tears spilling down your cheeks. You feel Mara get up and pat your knee.

“I have to go back to work now but… you deserve so much better.”

You hear her walk away and the door closing. And now that you’re completely alone the flood gates open. Tears roll down your face and there’s no sign they’re stopping any time soon. You finish your little episode in the break room as fast as you can before drying your tears and putting on a brave face for the rest of the day.

About a week has passed since your meltdown in the break room. You finally start to feel like you’re on the mend. Before when your eyes would wander between different men at the resort you would feel guilty but not anymore. You’re slowly starting to feel like yourself again.

The busy season for the resort is winding down and summer’s coming to an end. You’re welcoming the changing of seasons for once because summer just reminds you of Cassian. But the resort slowing down also means that you’ll be less busy and have more time for your mind to wander. It’s a double edged sword.

You took a week off of work since it’s been so slow and frankly you needed it. So this afternoon you and Mara, after she gets out of work early, are going out to the resort lounge for your classic girl’s night (really afternoon) out. You meet her at the employee refreshers at the resort, dressed in a simple dress in your favorite color, and head to the lounge. You walk together arm in arm and during the whole walk there from the employee refreshers she’s hyping you up.

“We’re gonna have so much fun, girl! You look hot, too. Trust me, you’ll meet someone new and forget all about that little weasel.”

“I get it, Mara. He’s in the past. I’ll try to look for someone new,” you sigh.

“That’s the spirit! Just try to sound happier than that,” she jokes.

You reach the lounge and head inside together. And just as you suspected… it’s pretty dead. It’s still early for a night out after all. Most of the tables in the room are empty and there’s small handfuls of people standing at the bar. You go for a table tucked away in the corner but Mara grabs your hand and leads you to one in the center of the room.

“Oh no, you’re not hiding in the corner,” she says as you sit down.

“You’re killing me.”

“Come on! We gotta find you someone new.”

“Okay first of all it’s super dead in here and second of all we both know hooking up with a guest went sooo well last time.”

“Exactly, it’s just a hookup; a rebound. No need to get caught up in your feelings again,” she says.

You sigh and she goes to the bar to get you your first round of drinks– revnog. You sit at the table, slouched down in the seat and fiddle with your hands awkwardly, feeling out of place here. You haven’t been to the resort lounge since Cassian was here and just as you suspected being here just reminds you of him. You miss the feeling of him holding you from behind as you sleep, or his head in your lap as you rest on the beach, or his hair tangled in your fingers, or–

Yeah now there’s tears welling up in your eyes again. Shit. You thought you were finally on the path to getting over him.

You’re jolted upright as you feel a hand on your shoulder. You think it’s Mara and secretly hope it’s Cassian, deep down you know it’s not. You turn your head and you were right, it’s not Cassian. It’s some guy and he does look somewhat familiar but you can’t remember where you know him from.

“Wasn’t sure if I’d run into you again,” he says with a smirk.

“Do I… know you?”

“You’re tellin’ me you don’t remember me, sweetheart?” he says, sitting in the chair next to you.

You blink a few times and get a good look at this face. He really does look familiar but still you can’t place where you know him from.

“Sal from Alderaan?” he says.

You cock your head to the side and furrow your brows, trying to rack your brain for a Sal from Alderaan. And then it hits you, you had one conversation with him here at the lounge while Mara was talking to someone. One conversation, you really must’ve made an impression on this guy. You could barely remember him though because Cass was sitting at the bar with jealous eyes watching the two of you talk. That tracks though, Cassian permeates all of your recent memories, making you forget about insignificant details like Sal from Alderaan.

“Oh right,” you say sheepishly, “What brings you back here?”

“Wanted a quick little vacation before the busy season starts at work again.”

“Gotcha. Have you been having a good time so far?” you ask, just trying to be polite.

“Just got here today but yeah. It’s been a good time.”

“I’m glad,” you reply, a disingenuous smile plastering your face as you eagerly look past his head for Mara, desperate for her to save you already. To your delight she’s on her way back from the bar, drinks in hand, but she spots Sal sitting next to you and shoots you a wink. You glance at her with pleading eyes and hope she’ll get the message but she doesn’t.

She sets down the drinks at the table and says, “Here’s a round for you two. I’m gonna run to the refresher but I’ll be back. Have fun!” complete with a small wave and a suggestive look on her face.

You feel a pit form in your stomach. You really don’t want to be here anymore. Any excitement you had for girls night is squashed thanks to Sal and whatever impression you left on him last time you saw him; an interaction you barely even remember. He tries to bring up things from your last conversation and you’re completely lost. How can you make it any clearer to him that you don’t remember him?

“Hey, um, my friend’s been gone for a while. I'm just gonna go check on her, okay?”

“Sure, take your time, sweetheart,” he says, eyeing your form up and down as you rise from your chair.

You couldn’t get out of there fast enough, practically running to the refreshers to find her. You open the door and she’s in there touching up her makeup. She smiles when she sees you but it melts off her face when she sees the troubled expression you’re wearing.

“Did something happen?”

“I just… I can’t do this. I know you’re gonna be mad at me but I’m not ready. I’m not ready for someone new.”

She comes over to you and places her hands on your shoulders.

“It’s okay. I mean it. I just thought seeing someone new would be the best thing for you but it’s okay to not be ready yet. You and Keef shared something special. And it’s hard to let that go.”

“Thanks, Mara… And if it’s okay with you, I think I’m just gonna go home.”

“Of course. We’ll always have more girl time to look forward to.”

“Thanks, Mar. I don’t know where I’d be without you,” you say.

“You’ll always have me!” she says, pulling you in for a hug.

You embrace before pulling away to leave.

“Take care of yourself, girl,” she says, as you walk out, “And enjoy the rest of your break!”

“See you later, Mar!” you call over your shoulder.

You head to the break room to grab your bag with your work clothes and head out, choosing to walk on the sidewalk overlooking the beach as you head home. The sunset emphasizes the ocean’s rippling waves crashing against the shore. There’s not a soul in sight and the whole picture reminds you when Cassian was here; when he told you his real name.

You’re supposed to be moving on but for tonight you’re letting yourself feel your feelings unapologetically. You walk along the beach and just before you’re supposed to turn and walk towards the city you spot two figures standing facing the water and having a conversation. One of them spots you walking towards them and turns his head towards you. Your heart drops to your stomach and a lump forms in your throat. You feel like you’re dreaming; like everything you’ve wanted is right in front of you. But it’s too good to be true, so you avert your gaze and keep walking away. They’re behind you now and you hear them part ways, followed by your name being called. You freeze, fearing that you’re just going to be disappointed again. Because the truth is you thought that one of the strangers was Cassian. Could it have been him? Maybe. You don’t know where he went that day he left. Or it could just be you searching for his face in a stranger. But he was calling your name just now… could it be him?

You feel a hand grab your shoulder and you’re ready to go into fight or flight mode. You spin around, about to yell in the face of whoever has the audacity to touch you. But instead you find the one person who can touch you. To your disbelief Cassian is in front of you, looking disheveled and exhausted but also completely over the moon to see you. It’s hard to describe how you’re feeling right now. A part of you feels complete. This is all you’ve wanted since the day he left; just to be with him and enjoy his presence once again. But part of you that’s still bitter is angry and wants nothing more to scream at him for leaving you without so much as a goodbye. He sees your face shift from a beaming smile to a frown and he can sense why.

“Wait! I can explain, I promise!” he says quickly, all while pulling you into a hug.

And even though a part of you is still bitter, the bitterness is not strong enough to reject his touch. He pulls you into a hug that can only be described as desperate; like you’re going to slip out of his hands like water.

You pull away reluctantly just to get a better look at his current state. He’s dressed in clean clothes, yes, but you can tell he must’ve been through something. He looks tired, like he maybe even lost some weight.

“Cass, baby, what happened to you?”

“I don’t even know where to begin. But before I tell you I just wanna reassure you that I never meant to leave,” he says, keeping his arms around your waist.

“Okay… what happened?”

“The day I left to go to Arkie’s I got accused by some Shoretroopers for anti-Imperial activity. They arrested me and I was sentenced to six years on Narkina 5.”

“Six years?! What do you do??”

“Nothing! I swear. I was just walking to Arkie’s and they thought I looked suspicious.”

“Oh, Cass. I’m so sorry. But how are you here?”

“I broke out. And I’m so sorry but… I have to leave again. My mother died and I have to get back to Ferrix.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, trying to mask your disappointment, “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning. So that means… I have one more night with you… if you’ll have me,” he says, interlocking his hands with yours.

You’re not mad at him anymore now that you know the full picture. But he is leaving again. Do you really want to give yourself to him and deal with the heartbreak again?

…The answer is yes. Because the truth is you’d suffer a thousand more heartbreaks if it meant being with him one more time.

“Of course, Cass. But where should we go?” you ask, glancing around you.

The sun is setting and his eyes are lit up in a warm amber glow as he looks around, too.

“Down on the beach? Just like old times,” he says with a smile.

You nod and he takes you by the hand, leading you down the steps and to a cabana closer to the water. The two of you lay down with your head resting against his chest as you watch the tail end of the sunset, enjoying each other’s company and waiting for it to get dark.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” you whispered against him.

“Me too, my love. I wish I could stay here longer.”

Your stomach swirls at the new nickname but then also sinks at the prospect of him leaving.

“I came by the resort to get my stuff but I didn’t see you.”

“I’ve been off this week.”

“Oh.”

“I know… I would’ve liked to see you before this; before you have to go again.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d even want to see me again. I would hate myself for what I did, too.”

“You were in prison, Cass.”

“You didn’t know that.”

“How did you break out anyway?”

“I helped start a prison riot. Another inmate who finished his sentence just got sent to another floor and we realized they were never gonna let us out.”

Your head pokes up and you look at him in shock.

“Cass, that’s terrible! People have to know about this; about what the Empire is doing!”

“Shh, baby, I know. Trust me, after I go to Ferrix that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Can I… come with you?”

“I wish you could but it’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t, my love. I’m coming back for you.”

You’re not satisfied with his answer but if this really is your only night with him for the foreseeable future then you don’t want to spend it arguing. You nod against him and resign to watching the sky and the water. The sun is completely set and you’re both bathed in the pale glow of the moonlight. You lift your head and look at him under the dim light. Now that it’s dark out you know what you both want. You inch closer to his face and crash your lips into his. His hands find the back of your head and neck, pulling you into him as close as possible. You move to straddle him, never breaking the kiss. The only other sound besides your labored breathing is the sound of the waves crashing against the beach.

You break the kiss to move yourself down lower on his body, hands tugging at the waistband of his pants.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“You said we only have one more night. Gotta fit everything in,” you say, complete with a smirk.

He doesn’t say anything, he just continues to look at you with a bewildered expression on his face as you free his cock from his pants. You take it in your hand, feeling it already grow hard at your touch. You press kisses all over his groin, everywhere but his cock. You hear him groan and whimper every time your lips draw closer to his cock before moving on elsewhere.

“Baby, please,” he whines.

“I’m getting there, Cassi,” you tease before wrapping your hand around the base of his cock and bringing your lips to the tip. You swirl your tongue around the head, stroking the shaft of his cock with your hand. His hands move to your hair, tangling themselves in your locks and tugging ever so slightly. Your other hand cups his balls lightly and that’s when you feel him go crazy, completely desperate for more. His grips on your hair tightens and that’s when you take his length in your mouth. You bob your head up and down, keeping one hand at the base of his cock and the other gently holding his balls. You feel himself getting harder and harder in your mouth. His pants and his moans fill up the small cabana and grow desperate the harder you suck his cock. You feel his balls tighten in your hand– he’s at the brink of orgasm. You take as much of him in your mouth that you can fit, feeling the head of his cock brush the back of your throat. Tears well up in your eyes but you power through it, anxious to make him cum. With one last motion of your head, he’s spilling his cum down your throat. He spews out incoherent ramblings that consist of moans, pants, and your name over and over again. You swallow every last drop of his cum, letting him ride out his orgasm before pulling him out of your mouth. You kneel and rest on the back of your heels.

“That was… amazing,” Cassian says, catching his breath and still reeling.

He puts his cock away and switches spots with you, telling you that it’s your turn now. You lay down and he settles in between your legs, lifting up the skirt of your dress. His warm breath tickles your core, sending a shiver up your spine.

“I thought about this everyday when I was in prison, my love. Being here in between your thighs is all I wanted.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at his praise. You close your eyes as his tongue laps at your cunt. He licks one long, slow stripe up your entrance. Your body shudders in anticipation of more. He moves his tongue to your clit, swirling it around the sensitive bundle of nerves. His finger teases your entrance and he pulls away for a second just to moisten it with his mouth. You feel it slide in, working your walls as he laps at your clit. His tongue and his finger work simultaneously, mirroring each other perfectly in a rhythmic pattern to get you to cum. He pushes a second finger in and you know you’re not going to last. You grind your hips into his face and hand while your hands move to his hair. The muscles in your core contract and release erratically as you cum. He lets you ride out your high, leaving his tongue on your clit and fingers inside your cunt, feeling complete that he’s back where he belongs– in between your legs and making you cum. Your grip on his hair relaxes and the movement of your hips slow before stopping completely, resting after the intense rush of pleasure you just had. He pulls his fingers from you and pulls his cock back out.

“Stay just like that, sweetheart,” he says, keeping himself propped between your thighs and aligning himself with your entrance. He gathers some of your release on his hand, sending another shiver up your spine, and spreads it onto his cock. He slides into you and hovers over you so his face is by yours, wanting to take in every reaction you have to his cock. You feel him expand your walls with each of his thrusts. It takes a second for you to get acclimated to his size again. You haven’t had anyone since Cassian left. You close your eyes for a second and hold your breath as you get used to the feeling of him being inside you again. And that’s when Cassian brings a hand to your cheek, caresses it softly and says, “Look at me, sweetheart.”

You open your eyes to see Cassian’s brown eyes gazing deeply into yours, filled with love and the night sky behind him. He takes your hand in his and pins it above your head, keeping intertwined with yours while he drives his length deeper into you. The tip of his cock brushes against your cervix with each movement of his hips. You know you’re not going to last much longer.

“I’m gonna cum soon, Cass,” you moan.

“Do it, baby. Let me feel it,” he says softly.

He brings his lips against yours, kissing you softly as you cum around him. You moan into him as your orgasm over takes you, your walls spasming around his cock that’s still pumping in and out of you. With one final slam of his hips he cums, too, releasing his warm load into you as you keep riding out your high. His own orgasm draws out yours, prolonging it as you fill up with his cum. He pulls out after every last drop has been released inside you and lays down next to you in the cabana, putting his cock back in his pants.

You rest your head on his chest as you both catch your breath. You’re glad to have him again; to be one with him once more but you know it’s all ending soon. You look up at the night sky above you, gazing at the stars and feeling a pit form in your stomach. He strokes your back and the two of you are silent as the apparent dread is settling in for both of you.

“I wish I had more time with you,” he says softly.

“But you could…” you start.

“I have to go, baby,” he says.

“I’m not denying that,” you start, sitting up right, “But please let me come with you.”

“It’s too dangerous. I’ll come back for you, I promise. Nothing can keep me away from you, not even the Empire.”

“I lost you once, Cass. I’m not losing you again,” you say, not budging.

“You really want to come with me?” he asks, standing and pacing back and forth in front of the cabana.

“More than anything,” you reply, standing up to face him.

“Okay,” he says, grabbing your hand, “Let’s go.”

To be continued…?

End note: Who doesn't love soft Cassi?? 🥰 Thank you all for reading! 🖤

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#cassian andor x reader #cassian andor smut #cassian andor fanfiction #cassian andor x you #cassian andor #andor fanfiction #andor #diego luna #diego luna characters #diego luna fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #starwarsficnetwork #rogue one

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tetsukuroos · 2 months

Text

k.t | Take A Chance

Part 5. Maybe He's Not Too Bad

There used to be a time when seeing my name pop up every so often on my timeline was exciting. A new story after every game. Nekomata Izumi scores the final shot! Nekomata Izumi leads her team to victory! Now, after a year, seeing my name just makes her angry. It’s crazy how something could change so quickly, seeing my name spoken about with such greatness and pride, to then everything about me being tied to meltdowns and failures, and now with malicious undertones.

I don’t remember when I started to care, having ignored the past two posts that included my name. I don’t remember when I found the time to check my phone amidst the training sessions with Nekoma or the attempts to hide from the Fukurodani team. I don’t remember when a casual glance at the time turned into hours of scrolling through a thousand responses, most of which called me a leech, a desperate bitch, a disgrace. All I could remember was why I tried to leave everything behind in the first place. Through the hair pulls and tears, I remembered why I tried to forget. The pain never got any better or any easier to manage, it only hurt even more that people wouldn’t let it go. They wouldn’t see past the one thing that happened, wouldn’t acknowledge who I once was or what I was once able to achieve.

I ran a hand through my hair with far greater rigorousness than intended, letting out a choked sob at the throbbing pain circling my head as strands of my hair came out along with my fingers. I tried to turn the phone off, to turn it face down and leave the room, but I couldn’t. Every second I spent scrolling was because I couldn’t help myself. Curiosity fuelled my fire.

Three short knocks tapped against my door and I tried to suck in a deep breath as the man on the other side called my name. “Izumi? I’m coming in,” Kuroo said quietly. So softly that I couldn’t help but think it meant someone cared– couldn’t help but cry a little harder.

“Go away Kuroo!” I yelled, voice strained, tone unforgivably weak.

There was silence and I thought that maybe he had listened to me for once in his life, but then the doorknob turned and the door creaked open. My eyes widened, realising the state of myself and my head whipped to turn away from him, his reaction unreadable. I heard the door knob click as he closed the door behind him and soft footsteps padded forward shortly after.

“What are you doing here?” I couldn’t help but shout, pressing the palms of my hands against my eyes, willing the tears to stop flowing. “Get out!”

“I’m not leaving,” He whispered. The bed dipped beside me, holding his weight up as he scooted an inch closer. “I just… wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I asked you to leave!” I yelled, finally turning back to him. My hands acted on their own, pushing furiously at his chest. He didn’t budge, only flinching at the movement but regaining himself once I started crying harder.

My head was pounding. As if someone was hitting my head with a brick a million times over. The tension in my shoulders was unbearable, holding the weight of a thousand thoughts and regrets. I widened my eyes when my hands came back to their original position, sobbing loudly into the corners of my arms.

“I’m sorry–” I blubbered. “I didn’t mean to– I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Kuroo..” The inner corners of my eyes were on fire, burning as another tear fell right after the other. “Just please leave me alone, I want to be here alone.”

“I don’t know you well enough to know what to say to make you feel better,” He said with a small grin. I looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows, scoffing at his response.

“What?”

“But I’m going to sit here and wait for you. You can yell at me, you can hit me, you can swear and you can do whatever you need to. You can pretend that I’m one of those people that says shit but knows absolutely nothing about you.” He continued and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him. Off of that gentle smile, the warmth of his eyes, the care in them.

“But I’m going to wait. I’ll wait until you’re feeling better, and then I’ll leave.”

Wait. Patience. The one thing I’ve always hoped for. The one thing I wish people would have done for me back then. I looked at him through the tears soaking my eyes, I sat through the silence he offered, waiting for a response. Just waiting.

My head dropped, my chin touching my chest, and my body leaned forward, pressing my forehead against his chest. I let go of my lip, red and bruised from biting it, just wanting to cry. I just wanted to cry. The sobs came harder than before, ripped from my chest, and laid out on the floor. My stomach hurt, and cramped as I tried to catch my breath and my head began to feel light, as if someone was finally holding the bricks that slammed against me.

And there he sat. With a soothing hand rubbing the back of my hand, he sat there and waited. I don’t remember how much longer we were in the room. All I remember was that Kuroo waited until I was feeling better, and then he left.

Masterlist | Next

ˋ°•*⁀➷ Take A Chance Synopsis

After a year in hiding, Izumi Nekomata is tasked with coaching the Nekoma High men's volleyball team after her father falls ill. Izumi reluctantly agrees despite her past with the sport and swallows her pride to fulfill her father's wishes.

Meeting the rowdy team and their charismatic captain, she is taught to love what she once lost and let go of what had been holding her back.

ˋ°•*⁀➷ Pairing

Kuroo Tetsurou x F! Reader

A/N: Took me a minute to post this because uni has finally started up again!

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earthbaby-angelboy · 7 months

Text

Walter Hale, Jess Wade, Steve Grayson and Dr. John Carpenter (ECU) as caregivers

Walter Hale (The Trouble With Girls, 1969):

Walter definitely strikes me as the type to adapt to whatever you need. If you need someone gentle, he's there to coddle you. If you need someone stricter, he's there with rules. Whatever you need, he's got. I get the feeling he'd be good with a kiddo who is real small (0-2), but I think if push came to shove he'd also be able to take care of someone older. It all depends on the chemistry.

If he knows you're stressed or teetering over the edge of a breakdown, he has no problem 'forcing' you to regress. He's very naturally manipulative, so it works like a charm. If you're ranting and raving about something, he'll literally come up to you and just pop your pacifier in your mouth with a knowing "better?" He loves when you sit on his lap while he's in meetings, and he has no qualms about walking around the Chautauqua with you on his hip. If anyone has anything to say about your regression, they answer to him. He's the one that you go to when you need to regress, but just...can't.

He absolutely loves buying you pretty little outfits so he can show you off to all his friends, but god-forbid they cast one lustful look in your direction and they're dead before daylight. He doesn't let you get your hands dirty. He loves spoiling you, and delights in your happiness.

He loves when you call him "daddy", and when he's stressed due to work or whatever else, he'll ask you to cuddle with him. It's beneficial to the both of you; he gets to relax, and you get to spend time with him. It's a win-win!

Jess Wade (Charro!, 1969):

He is naturally very stoic, and has a resting bitch face, so he would not be great with a regressor who is incredibly sensitive. He likes taking care of older kiddos (5-9), but doesn't mind taking care of the real little ones too.

He definitely would be the type to tell you to stop crying, then go all wide-eyed and gentle when you just cry harder. He's very straightforward, and expects you to communicate when you are upset and not make him do mental gymnastics to figure out what's bothering you. If you're having a meltdown, he'll usually just leave you to cry it out unless you explicitly state that you want him there.

He doesn't really have rules, but if you are acting particularly rude or just downright mean, he does serve punishments. They are more traditional, like writing lines, cleaning one spot over and over, or standing in a corner. Always tells you afterwords how proud he is of you for handling your punishment well.

This man has absolutely NO paternal instinct, so he learns along the way. If you're having a particularly rough day, big or little, he takes you out on his horse. Sometimes, he'll grab one of his cowboy hats and play peek-a-boo with you. Your laugh is the only thing that can bring a light smile to his face. He will never ask it of you, but his heart would melt into a puddle of goo if you called him "papa."

He likes nonchalant and domestic forms of intimacy, like cleaning up around the house for you and bringing you a flower bouquet he picked himself. His favorite activity, though, is doing shared activities together in silence, eg. reading separate books, but sitting close together.

Steve Grayson (Speedway, 1968):

Steve would not consider himself to be a caregiver whatsoever, but rather just an older brother! He himself is a regressor, but stays in an old enough headspace that he's able to keep a close eye on you. He loves to sit on the floor with you and get lost in a silly game. He adores taking naps with you, but will still knock out for a few (hours) even if you don't.

He himself is very hyperactive, so he would be good with a little that has a vibrant personality and a whole lotta energy! The two of you spend hours running around at a playground, just laughing and having fun because damn it, you both deserve to be happy. He loves booping your nose and squishing your cheeks.

He takes you on fancy ice cream parlour dates once a week! You little meances order 4 scoops of ice cream with all the toppings you can pile on! (...It has enough sugar to put an old woman in a coma.) He doesn't really care about how much sugar you have, as long as you don't get a tummy ache.

He doesn't like titles, but he doesn't mind nicknames! His favorites are "Vee" and "Stevie!"

Although he is an older brother figure, he has some small rules in place for your safety. He asks that you hold his hand when crossing the street, ask him if there's something on a shelf you can't reach, etc. Just little things he can do to keep you safe and make you more comfortable!

Dr. John Carpenter (Change Of Habit, 1969):

He would make an incredible caregiver for anyone struggling with a mental illness or trauma disorder. He understands how delicate someone can be when regressed, so he is very conscious of the things he says and does around you. He understands your brain better than you do, and can tell when you're going to regress beforehand.

He is very helpful when it comes to working through sensory overloads, meltdowns and outbursts. He is so calm and patient, always looking at you with kind eyes. He never punishes you for expressing how you are feeling, but does encourage you to discuss with him the emotions and thought process' behind your words and actions.

Touch is something incredibly special to him, so he's very careful about it. He loves cradling you close to him, especially when you're upset.

He doesn't give you rules, and he lets you "take the lead", so to speak. You go to bed when you can't keep your eyes open, he lets you eat all the sweets you want until you're satisfied, and he doesn't ever force you to regress. But, he does establish somewhat of a routine to make sure you're taking good care of yourself. Something that remains consistent in your routine is that when he notices you're getting super tired, he gives you tummy rubs. He likes playing dolls with you, mainly because he pays attention to the stories you create. Sort of like play therapy!

He would be good with any little (and is good with people in general), but I get the feeling he would be really awesome taking care of a little who has a newborn or baby headspace.

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jjungkookislife · 2 years

Text

Crybaby [Ch. 6]

pairing: namjoon x f. reader

genre: friends to lovers, fluff, smut

wc: 5.9k

summary: Sometimes your emotions overwhelmed you, sometimes they made you cry, but your friends were there to comfort you all the time. Crybaby, a sweet nickname bestowed upon you by said friends, but when Kim Namjoon says it, it's more of a tease.

warnings: shy!oc, crybaby!oc, lots of kissing, dirty thoughts, mini-meltdown, namjoon is a BOYFRIEND, making out, conversation about sex, marking (hickeys, biting, scratching) oral sex, fingering (f. receiving), unprotected sex, crybaby cries during sex (tears of joy), creampie

a/n: i added the kiss in the rain drabble to this so it would be canon

date: September 12, 2022

Namjoon has been a mess of nerves all evening. He’s done his best to be in the moment and not get caught off guard while his friends grow rowdy in his home.

Another movie night is coming to an end and Namjoon knows that any bit of courage he’s built up will wither into nothingness if he doesn’t ask you soon. But what if you reject him? Won’t things be awkward?

“You look like you’re gonna throw up,” Yoongi comments offhandedly as he approaches Namjoon with his soda in his hand. “And I won’t help clean it up if you do.”

“Thanks,” Namjoon states sarcastically, with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

“I’m just fucking with you, man. Jungkook told me what’s going down tonight and all I have to say is, it’s about damn fucking time you stepped up. I think half of us know you like her,” Yoongi giggles as Namjoon scoffs.

“I was waiting for the right time,” Namjoon hisses in response.

“There’s never a right time, Joon. You can’t sit on the sidelines waiting to get a shot when others would gladly step up even if they get rejected.”

“How’d you do it?” Namjoon asks as he looks at his brother, who’s laughing with you about something they’re too out of earshot to hear.

“Actually, Jungkook beat me to it. Cornered me one night and asked me if I was ever gonna grow a pair and ask him out or if he’d had to drop more hints. I wasn’t aware he was dropping hints,” Yoongi chuckles as he thinks back to that night. “He kissed me in front of everyone and said I was his boyfriend now. I was over the moon.”

“I’m not gonna kiss her out of the blue,” Namjoon laughs, shaking his head as he sees you caught between Jimin and Hoseok, both teasing you about something that leaves you hopping up and down between them.

“I didn’t say to do that, dummy! Just ask her out. You don’t have to write her a sonnet or anything. Any idiot can see she’s into you,” Yoongi shrugs, ignoring the way Namjoon seems to short-circuit.

Any idiot can what?

“She’s what?” Namjoon gulps, wondering if he’s somehow misheard his older friend.

Yoongi sighs, rolling his eyes at Namjoon. “You’re an idiot.”

“We’ve covered that, yes. Now, what was it you said?”

“I said any idiot knows she’s into you. Have you honestly not noticed?” Yoongi is growing concerned. Maybe he shouldn’t have opened his big mouth. Oops.

“What if she says no?”

“Then at least you asked, man. Don’t go the rest of your life wishing you had just asked,” Yoongi takes a sip of his drink and walks away, leaving Namjoon to his thoughts.

Time ticks on until it’s time to go to bed and Namjoon still hasn’t found the guts to ask you out. He’s avoided you all night, and he knows you’ve noticed as Taehyung and Jimin flank you wherever you go.

However, when you’re getting ready for bed, Namjoon reaches out for your hand, stopping you from going to the living room.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” he asks shyly, his cheeks pink and his eye contact faltering. You nod, walking into his bedroom after him.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you all night. I was just nervous,” he admits.

“Nervous? Why?” you ask directly, not wanting to overthink any longer.

Namjoon shuffles his weight from foot to foot, wringing his hands as he looks at his feet. With a deep breath, he looks up to lock eyes with you. “Because I’ve been thinking of how to ask you out on a date all night and I just can’t seem to find the words, Crybaby. So, will you go on a date with me? Feel free to say no. I swear, this won’t change anything between us if you say no.”

You’re speechless. Out of all the possibilities you came up with in your head about his avoidance, this wasn’t one of them.

“You want to go out on a date with me?”

“Yes,” Namjoon answers simply.

Your heart flutters in your chest as a smile lights up your face. “I’d love to!”

Namjoon feels like he can finally breathe. Nothing can take the bright smile off his face.

To no one’s surprise, your date goes swimmingly. At first, you had felt a little awkward, a little shy, but it soon clicked in your head that this was Namjoon. Your best friend, Namjoon. Namjoon, who you’ve had a huge crush on and possibly more for the last few months, Namjoon.

Being with Namjoon felt natural, from dinner at your favorite restaurant filled with laughter and smiles, to a walk near a plaza with a massive fountain and several sweet shops that you visited with your hand in his.

Everything was wonderful, and even the rapid beating of your heart didn’t cause you to worry.

At the end of the night, Namjoon kissed your cheek when he dropped you off at your front door and asked you out again for the following night.

With a giddy smile, you said yes.

Your first kiss doesn’t happen until the end of your third date. You’ve been thinking about it all night, biting your bottom lip as you step onto your front porch with Joon behind you, his hand in yours.

Unbeknownst to you, he’s been thinking about it as well, for a long time.

Is it too soon? Would you want him to kiss you? What if he’s bad? What if you hate it? All these questions have been swirling around in his mind all night and now, as he stands in front of you wishing you a good night, he’s at a loss.

Namjoon caresses your cheek and you melt into his touch, eyes fluttering shut.

You know he’ll lean in to kiss your cheek, maybe even your forehead, before asking you out again.

Instead, you’re surprised when he does none of that. You open your eyes slowly and offer him a gentle smile.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks bashfully, his dimpled smile makes you swoon as you nod. “Yes.”

It takes a moment for Namjoon’s surprise to pass, butterflies fluttering in his belly as he swallows his nerves and leans in. You meet him halfway, your lips pressing to his in a barely there kiss but it’s enough for Joon to gain his courage. His hand cups your cheek, stepping forward as he brings you closer.

A content sigh escapes him, lips moving perfectly in sync with yours for a moment longer before you’re both pulling away.

A soft giggle escapes you, eyes bright and brimming with happy tears.

“Wow.”

“Wow,” Namjoon echoes with a dimpled grin.

With a bite of your lip, you don’t let your shyness overcome you. Instead, you move forward and surprise him with a press of your lips.

Namjoon is quick to catch you, his large hands gripping your hips as he eagerly kisses you back. All his worries and all the apprehensiveness he’d felt before are long gone with each soft movement of your lips with his.

Saying goodbye takes longer that night. Each word is followed by a quick peck on your lips, his hands linger on your hips and he knows he needs to head home before things grow too hot too fast.

“Goodnight, my Crybaby. Sweet dreams.”

A few more dates coupled with a few more kisses goodnight, lead Namjoon to make things official. The two of you seem to complement each other well, both growing so much happier as the weeks go by and although you still burst into tears often, they’re happier now.

Your friends have been very happy for you both, and Jungkook is off the wall because his best friend-soulmate- is dating his brother. He loves meddling but he finds he doesn’t have to when the two of you just make sense, just fit.

Even Yoongi has started to let his guard down slowly, seeing how comfortable you’ve grown around Namjoon and witnessing the two of you together puts his mind at ease. It’s been such a long time since you’ve dated anyone, much less made anyone your boyfriend, and it’s a breath of fresh air to hear your little giggles and your loud cackles of laughter in his home all because of Namjoon.

Jimin and Taehyung are still troublemakers, teasing you here and there but much less so than ever before. They have boundaries they don’t cross now and Namjoon is thankful that they respect him and you now that your relationship has changed. However, that doesn’t mean they still don’t poke fun here and there, whispered words and hushed giggles as they include you in their secret conversations and ask you questions that heat your face.

Seokjin and Hoseok still baby you as much as possible but they’re quick to back off if they see Namjoon stepping up. His sweet teases of “Crybaby, Crybaby,” makes them grin when you bury your face in his chest. They honestly don’t think anyone better could have scooped you up, their hearts warm with tenderness for Namjoon as he treats you like you deserve, their little crybaby.

Tonight is another night at Jungkook and Namjoon's place for movie night. You’re cuddled up between the two brothers, except this time, Yoongi has thrown himself over Jungkook's lap, cuddling him, leaving you to press against Namjoon. He couldn't be more thrilled. His arms drape over your shoulder as he pulls you close, and his lips plant a kiss on your temple. You can't help but think what it would be like to be writhing beneath him, tears rolling down your cheeks as your nails dig into his back, his name spilling from your lips in a heady cry as your legs wrap around him.

You need to control your thoughts, your body feeling warm as you cuddle into Namjoon further. He is oblivious to your naughty thoughts, but he's having some of his own as you plant a soft kiss on his neck.

Namjoon bites back a moan. His hand grips his thigh as he moves his hips to calm himself down. Your soft giggle lets him know you’ve done it on purpose to rile him up and although the two of you haven’t gone farther than a few heated make-out sessions, your thoughts certainly wander.

Gently, you’re easing out of Namjoon’s hold, feeling flushed from your thoughts. You hurry to the kitchen with an excuse of grabbing a drink. Namjoon nods, his eyes following your retreating figure, not batting an eye when Jimin follows shortly after.

“What’s got you so heated?” Jimin asks as he hops on the counter beside the fridge. You roll your eyes at him playfully, opening the fridge to grab a cold bottle of water.

“Why must you be so nosy?” you tease with a smile that has Jimin laughing.

“Is there something to be nosy about, Baby? You usually don’t get this flustered, not even when Tae and I are messing with you. So… tell me what’s got you heated,” Jimin smirks and you know there’s no way you can lie your way out of this.

Instead, you look over your shoulder to make sure nobody is heading your way before you move closer to Jimin.

“Oh, this is gonna be juicy,” Jimin grins devilishly.

“Jimin!” you hiss, smacking his thigh gently.

“What? I’m curious.” he wiggles his brows and you sigh as you lean on the counter beside him.

“Is it obvious that I’m flustered?” you look up at him. Jimin quirks his head to the side.

“To me or everyone?”

“To you… maybe Namjoon,” you swallow thickly as you open your bottle and take a sip.

“I mean, I can’t speak for him, but I noticed the way you kept fidgeting and the way your gaze continued to drop to his hands. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you have a thing for hands and you keep tracing the veins on his.”

“You know, I regret asking anything,” you hissed, out a breath as you got embarrassed further.

“Tell me what’s going on, Crybaby. I can’t help unless you tell me,” Jimin bargains and you give in.

“Namjoon and I have been together for a bit now and I love kissing him and making out and stuff and I don’t know what it is about tonight but I want to jump him,” you sigh, hiding your face in your hands until Jimin’s gentle grip is pulling them off your face.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“Would I be in here if I had?” you retort, chuckling.

Jimin hums, shaking his head. “Talk to him, baby. There’s only so much your ass wiggling on his lap will do.”

Groaning, you take another sip of your water.

“I’ll think about it,” you say, placing your hand on your face to cool you down. Jimin smirks, hopping off the counter before you can say another word.

Namjoon walks in, not shocked to see Jimin winking at him as he passes by. You curse your best friend out in your head. Not once in his life could he be subtle.

However, Namjoon’s soft smile makes your heart skip a beat as he approaches you. He helps you onto the counter and stands between your legs. You’ve stolen one of his sweatshirts, his scent bringing comfort to you as well as fueling your arousal. Your short pajama shorts ride up on your thighs, his hands immediately claiming them.

“Hi,” he whispers, as his forehead is pressed against yours.

“Hi,” you respond with a smile so bright that it warms his heart.

“I missed you,” he says simply as his hand moves to cup your face. You melt into his touch instantly, eyes twinkling when they lock on him. Namjoon can’t help but think how precious you are, how lucky he is to have you be his. His infatuation with you was blooming into more and normally that would spark fear in him but with you, he felt serene. He wasn’t going to navigate away from this feeling, not when it caused him great joy.

“Missed you, Joon,” you admit with a smile as you pull him closer by his shirt. His strong arms wrap around you as your arms wrap around his neck. His breath ghosts over your lips before he’s kissing you slowly. Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging hard enough to make him moan into the kiss. His hand slides down to your thigh, bringing it up to wrap around his hips.

“Joon,” you say his name in a heady tone, turning your head to allow him more room as he kisses your neck, nipping gently as he goes until you gasp and arch into him.

Namjoon moans your name, nosing at your sensitive skin as you grip his shoulders and grip his shirt tightly.

“I know you two aren’t making out on my kitchen counter,” Jungkook grimaces as he takes the two of you in. Namjoon sighs as he places your thigh back on the counter and straightens up. Lately, he’s had a hard time keeping his hands to himself. He wouldn’t go past your limits, always pushing himself away when he’s felt the two of you are going too far. Sure, he’s enjoyed your make-out sessions, and sure, he’s daydreamed of doing more, so much more but it’s not a discussion the two of you have had and tonight isn’t the right time for it in the middle of a group hangout.

However, Namjoon loves these stolen moments. He can feel his lips tingling from your kiss, still warm and yearning for more. But for now, he’ll have to settle with a peck on your lips before he’s turning to his brother.

“It’s my counter too.”

Jungkook waves his hand. “Yeah, yeah. If you’re gonna be making me nieces and nephews, you have a bedroom.”

“You know, kinda wish I wasn’t here right now,” you mutter in embarrassment as you stare up at the ceiling, praying it’ll open and something will strike you unconscious.

“Me too,” Jungkook sticks his tongue out at you before turning on his heel.

Namjoon sighs heavily. Leave it to his brother to ruin the moment.

“Do you wanna go to my room?” Namjoon asks you, his fingers lacing with yours. Your eyes widen and he chuckles softly. “To talk, Crybaby. To talk.”

You look slightly disappointed, and he smiles as he helps you off the counter before leading you to his bedroom. None of your friends bat an eye when you walk past them. In fact, you’re sure half of them are asleep in their spots.

Once the two of you step into his bedroom, Namjoon is gently shutting the door as you climb into his bed, waiting for him to join you. He does so, leaving ample space between you even when he turns to face you.

“Baby?”

“Yes?”

Namjoon rubs the nape of his neck. He was suddenly feeling shy, heat rising to his cheeks and making them rosy.

“I know lately we’ve been taking it slow and kissing and I’ve loved every single moment of it but I couldn’t help but notice that tonight you may have wanted more?” Namjoon raises a brow as he tries to gauge your reaction but your eyes are wide and you’re unable to speak.

“Please,” Namjoon licks his lips nervously. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I noticed the way you kept staring at my hands and kissing my neck just to make me moan.”

You blink, your hands in your lap as you feel heat flush throughout your body.

“You noticed, huh?” you laugh nervously, feeling Namjoon get off the bed to kneel on the floor in front of you. He takes your hand in his, and despite the rapid beating of your heart, you feel completely safe. The usual urge to run isn’t present, and with a steadying breath, you meet his gaze.

“It’s kind of hard not to notice, baby.” Namjoon chuckles, his hand moving upward to caress your cheek. “I need you to tell me what you want, okay? It’s just me here, love. I’m your boyfriend and your friend. I’ll keep this between us.”

“I know you will, silly. I trust you,” you grin, kissing his nose.

Namjoon grins from ear to ear, his dimples so prominent that it makes your smile grow wider.

“I trust you too,” Namjoon assures as he takes your hand in his. “Which is why I need you to be honest with me, okay? Do you want more, Crybaby?”

“Now?” your eyes widen in panic and Namjoon laughs softly as he shakes his head.

“No, not now,” he kisses your cheek. “Not with all our friends in the living room.”

“Ohhh,” you giggle.

Namjoon gets on the bed with you, pulling you to his chest.

“You’re too cute for your own good, Baby. Too, too cute.”

“I am, aren’t I?”

“Extremely,” he answers, kissing your cheek.

You lace your fingers with him as you lay with your head on his broad chest. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be than wrapped up in him, and you know you’re on a one-way track to being fully in love with Kim Namjoon. The thought doesn’t terrify you or cause any anxiety. It feels right.

“There’s no rush, Crybaby. Whenever the time’s right, okay?” Namjoon asks for your input, not wanting you to stress over it or think he’s calling all the shots.

“That works, babe,” you answer bashfully.

However, Namjoon’s heart is soaring in the clouds at the pet name. He’s quick to capture your lips with his, his large hand cradling your face as he holds you close.

It’s not too long until he’s on top of you, holding his weight on his elbows as he kisses you. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, fingers gently threading through his hair as his hands find their way under your shirt, gently caressing your waist.

Slow kisses and dulcet moans are all you know as you lose yourself in his touch, melting beneath him as your thoughts wander to dangerous territory but they’re brought back when Seokjin and Hoseok’s laughs ring through the house.

Namjoon chuckles, panting. “Another time.”

“Another time,” you echo as you raise your pinky for him to loop his around.

“Should we head back out there or stay here?” Namjoon asks.

“Let’s stay here,” you answer easily as he lies beside you and you stifle a yawn but Joon catches it anyway. He kisses you on the lips, wrapping you up in his muscular arms.

“Get some sleep, Crybaby. I’ll be here for you when you wake up.”

“Goodnight, Joonie. I adore you.”

Unfortunately for you, the timing was never right but not being in a huge rush made it okay. Several heated make-out sessions always left the both of you wanting more but were always interrupted by a phone call or a friend bursting into his home or yours. You’d smile, share a kiss and move on.

So when the time finally presented itself, you took the opportunity.

It had been months of sexual tension that led up to this moment. Months of dating finally led to you and Namjoon standing in the rain after spending the whole day together and he had walked you home.

There, right outside your home, he'd kissed you with so much adoration that it made your toes curl. You loved it! It was better than you had imagined, knowing he was feeling for you what you were for him. His touch is just as fiery as his tongue. Despite being soaked to the bone by the rain, you felt a certain warmth as he kissed you passionately. You didn't want to let him go, so you didn't.

Shy smiles are exchanged as you lead him inside your home, kissing him once you're safely inside. His hair drips over his forehead, which then drips onto you, but all you care about is him. He's so big and broad that it makes you feel small as he cages you in his arms, your back pressed to the wall.

"Fuck," he breathes against your lips, his hand cupping your face. "I can't keep my hands off you."

"So don't," you goad, eyes locked on his. Your hands run over his buff arms, moving down to his pecs where his t-shirt has become see-through and completely useless as it clings to his wet body.

"You don't know what you're asking for, Crybaby," Namjoon says softly, caressing your cheek as he gives you an easy out.

"Why don't you let me find out?" you respond, greedy hands reaching for his shirt; your body pressed obscenely to his.

"You're gonna be the death of me, Crybaby." Namjoon nearly growls, his hand gripping the back of your neck as he pulls you into a kiss that leaves you weak in the knees.

Seeing your boyfriend smirk after leaving you breathless from a kiss sends your heart fluttering, heat spreading through your body as your lips meet for another toe-curling kiss.

“Baby,” he rasps, lips trailing kisses to your neck as his hips pin you to the wall and you’re melting beneath him, gripping his shirt tighter, seconds from ripping it down the middle. His arms flex and you nearly drool, tilting your head to the side, allowing him more access to the sensitive skin of your neck as his teeth nip the column of your throat. His name forms on your lips, a cock-hungry moan that leaves him throbbing in the confines of his denim.

Namjoon steps back, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes. His gaze is dark and hooded, full of lust and love as he takes your hand in his to lead you to your bathroom.

The two of you stumble in, lips connected as you bump into the bathroom counter, laughing into the kiss as his hand fumbles in the dark looking for the light switch.

Once the bathroom is illuminated in light, you pause. Namjoon cups your face in his hands and your heart flips in your chest, excitement bubbling in your belly as you kiss him again, your hands gripping his shirt to pull it off him.

Namjoon easily gets out of his shirt, .tugging it over his head effortlessly, and you feast on his sun-kissed skin. His pectorals are undoubtedly outrageous, as is the rest of his firm, broad body that could easily squish you into smithereens and you’d let him gladly.

“Wow!” you exclaim, cursing yourself out in your head right after when your boyfriend smirks.

His soaked body is worthy of a museum exhibition; a real work of art.

Namjoon flexes jokingly but all it does is make you wetter as your greedy hands run over every inch of his torso. He welcomes you, his hands gripping your shirt to tug over your head. His lips meet yours and you lose yourself, not having a moment to be self-conscious as he kisses you while the two of you undress, only stopping to turn the shower on and get in.

Under the warm stream of the shower, you kiss in between smiles and soft laughs. Namjoon holds you to him, gently washing your hair for you while you do the same for him once he bows his head to make it easier.

Namjoon familiarizes himself with your body as you do with his, all your insecurities in the back of your mind as you focus on your Adonis of a boyfriend.

The both of you dry your bodies, kissing in between as you make your way to your bedroom. You do your best to dry your hair but soon you’re falling onto your bed with Namjoon on top, crowding you with his big body and you melt underneath.

“Just say the word and we can stop,” he says firmly.

“I don’t want to stop, Joonie,” you answer honestly as you lean up to kiss him again, hands weaving in his hair to pull him close as he kisses you back just as enthusiastically.

Namjoon is gentle with you. Takes his time to kiss every inch of you, his hands gripping you tight as you moan his name again and again. He settles between your legs, a thigh in each of his hands as he leans forward to press a kiss to each of your hips.

“My Crybaby,” he whispers as you sit up on your elbows and lock eyes with him. You nod, swallowing thickly, face heated as you realize just how aroused you’ve become.

Namjoon is eager to get a taste of you, his fingertips brushing against your wet folds and you sigh quietly, just loud enough for him to hear.

“All mine,” he smiles, his eyes never leaving yours as he goes down, flattening his tongue as he takes one long swipe along your dripping wet folds. “Fuck.”

“Namjoon,” you breathe.

Namjoon smiles before repeating his actions. He starts slowly, teasing you until you’re begging him for more as his tongue flicks against your clit and you’re gripping his hair.

He takes his time with you, learning about your body and encouraging you to be vocal about what you like and what you don’t. His plush lips plant kisses on your thighs, leaving his mark behind as he moves back to the center, your essence heavy on his tongue as his fingers circle your entrance before sinking in.

“Joon,” you gasp, fingers threaded in his hair. He growls, licking his lips as his fingers curl inside you. He watches you intently, loving how responsive you are to his touch. Your hips rise off the bed, rolling against him as his tongue circles your clit and you moan for him.

You’re driving him wild, whether you know it or not. He’s consumed by your moans, lust-drunk, and mind heady as his cock throbs. He can’t wait to be inside you, to stuff you full of his cock, and hear you crying out for him.

With a grunt of protest, you’re pulling Namjoon upward, his fingers slipping from between your legs as you pull him into a kiss. His moans are muffled against your lips, his tongue meeting yours to allow you a taste of your essence.

“Baby,” he breathes, his forehead pressed to yours. His large hand cups your cheek, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. “My sweet Crybaby.”

“Kiss me,” you plead in a tone that makes Namjoon bite his bottom lip before he’s kissing you.

Melting into his kiss, you spread your legs for him, welcoming him between your thighs. Your arms wrap around his neck, holding him close to you as his chest meets yours and you’re consumed by the heat of his body.

Slowly, your hand slides between your bodies, wrapping around his hard cock. Your thumb brushes the head, collecting pre-cum to aid you as you stroke him. His low moans light a fire inside you, moaning when his lips press against yours hungrily.

“Fuck,” Namjoon curses, eyes shut tight as he focuses on your touch. He allows you to guide him between your legs, smirking when his cock brushes against your clit before he’s moving his hips.

“Joon!” You gasp when he pushes in. Your breath is caught in your throat, eyes wide as he sinks deeper.

Namjoon curses. His eyes are squeezed shut as he bites his plush bottom lip. Your hand moves to his shoulder, nails digging into the skin as he kisses you.

You spread your legs as far as they’ll go, moaning when he finally bottoms out. The delectable stretch leaves you breathless, biting back a moan as you squeeze your boyfriend's shoulder. Namjoon kisses you for a moment, soft and sweet as he holds you.

“Namjoon,” you say his name sweetly after a few moments, full of love as your hand caresses his cheek. He turns to kiss your wrist, smiling when you do.

“I need you,” you whisper.

Namjoon smirks. “You have me.”

“Ugh, you’re not gonna make this easy, huh?”

“Not even a little bit, Crybaby.” Namjoon nips at your wrist and you giggle, kissing his lips afterward.

“Please,” you beg, eyes soft as you raise your hips. Namjoon groans, feeling you clench around him and he gives in.

Namjoon pulls his hips back before he thrusts into you. You arch upward, not expecting the force of his hips. You moan, gripping his arms as Namjoon sets a satisfying pace that leaves you breathless and begging for more.

The bed squeaks as he fucks you, his moans filling the bedroom as he feels how warm and wet you feel. Your legs wrap around his hips, drawing him deeper as your mouths meet for a sloppy kiss that’s all teeth and tongues.

Your name escapes him in pants, his hair falling over his eyes and you’re quick to push it out of the way, your fingers threaded in the thick strands. You smirk when you tug at it, moaning when you’re rewarded with a growl and a nip of his teeth on your breast.

This is so much better than you ever imagined. Your heart is pounding against your ribcage like a drum. Your thighs are starting to shake and your sweet cries are growing louder and louder with each of his thrusts.

“Namjoon!”

“Fuck, Crybaby,” Joon curses again, kissing you hastily as he raises your hips upward to sit you on his thighs. He hits deeper now, your body nearly singing as he fucks you full of his cock. Your head spins and your eyes roll to the back of your head as you take the merciless pounding of his thick cock.

Fuck, you’re so in love with this man. So, so in love and finally being with him like this is better than anything you could have ever dreamed of. You love him, you do. He’s been your best friend, a source of comfort, and now your lover. He’s everything you've ever wanted and as your hand cups his face and you meet his gaze, you feel the familiar pinpricks of tears in the corner of your eyes.

Namjoon can see the shining in your eyes and for a moment he hesitates. You shake your head, urging him to keep going.

You probably should have warned your boyfriend, you were a crier, nay a sobber!

Namjoon didn't care one bit (after checking in), not when his hands were laced with yours, taking each of his thrusts like a welcome home present, moans filling the air, nails dragging down his back. Tears rolled down your cheeks, the pleasure overwhelming you as you writhed beneath him, nails digging into his skin as his teeth sunk into your skin.

Namjoon couldn't take more pleasure. Grunts, and groans escaping him as he fucked you, kissing each tear that escaped from your eyes. His chest filled with warmth and love, he felt towards you as he buried himself deeper. He snapped his hips harder, cursing and grunting as he fucked you, filling every inch of you as you melted beneath him with wanton cries of his name.

Your name escapes his lips in a grunt, his fingers lacing with yours, as you arch into him, legs pulling him closer.

“Joon!” You cry out, warning him of your orgasm, and he kisses you heatedly. Your hand grips his hair and you lose yourself beneath him, trembling as you fall over the edge. You clench around him, lips muffling his moans and curses as he rocks his hips a few more times before he’s releasing into you with a guttural groan that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Namjoon is breathless as he pulls out of you slowly, and cautiously. Almost afraid he’ll hurt you somehow.

You reach out for him, not wanting him too far away as your quivering thighs close. He chuckles, his large hands cupping your face as you sniffle.

“Sorry,” you laugh. “I guess I should have warned you. I didn’t think I’d cry.”

“Happy tears?” Namjoon asks softly as his thumbs wipe them away.

“Happy tears,” you confirm with a smile, face hot with embarrassment. “I guess I got a bit emotional. I’m sorry.”

Namjoon smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t apologize, Baby. I love you just the way you are.”

You blink, unsure if you’ve heard him correctly.

“You love me?”

Namjoon freezes, cheeks turning pink. Did he seriously just spill those three special words right now? This was not how he had imagined this going.

“I do,” he finally admits. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth as if he were trying to speak through a mouthful of molasses. “I love you. I didn’t mean for it to slip out like that.”

You giggle at his bashfulness, pulling him into a tight hug before covering his face in kisses. “Good, I love you too.”

“You do?” Namjoon asks surprised, as he looks down at you. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes as you nod, your throat suddenly burning as you try to keep from crying again.

Once was enough.

“I love you, Namjoon. When we first met, I thought you were going to be a dick,” you laugh when his jaw drops. “I did! But you easily worked your way into my heart and it’s rare for me to feel so at ease with someone and you’re my best friend. My comfort.”

“You’re going to make me cry,” Namjoon swallows thickly as he regains his composure.

You smile deviously. “Hey, that’s my job.”

Namjoon pokes your cheek. “That it is, Crybaby.”

You lace your fingers with your boyfriend’s, squeezing them as you press a kiss to his cheek.

“My Crybaby.”

thank you for reading! ♡ if you liked it, please let me know! 💌

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#bangtanarmynet #btshoneyhive #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader insert #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader insert smut #crybaby!reader

229 notes · View notes

kiankiwi · 1 year

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ok but imagine doing a experiment with austin!baby e. like the coronel makes us ignore baby and just look a him as if we're mad and at first baby doesn't understand and will try to engage with us like babbling, pointing, making noises,etc. but when he realizes we're ignoring him baby just starts to cry and whine like he gets so sad until it's a meltdown and we give in. at first little e is kinda sad but then he cuddles us

He'd be so confused! We are told to come with E for meetings and we're confused as well and our guard is up as soon as we walk into the meeting room with E and notice that shit eating grin on the Colonel's face meaning the gears in his head are turning up a plan. "What do I need to be here for?" Elvis literally hides behind you and you take his hand in yours, squeezing, already feeling the need to protect him. "We want to do an experiment. I know Elvis goes into headspace and I wanted to see what he would do if you ignored him. So we're going to film his reaction and you will give him no reaction no matter what he does and we want to see how genuine his headspace is." Of course the Colonel thinks E and his regression is fake.

"You son of a bitch." The Colonel just gives you a big smile. "Don't say no just yet. If you do this for us, I am prepared to give him two months off straight. You two can finally go on that vacation you've been planning behind my back." You sighed, "Fine. But he will try to not slip just because you're here. So it might take a minute to put him in headspace." The Colonel nods. "Just call me back once he's slipped." And the Colonel leaves the room.

Elvis watches him leave. "What, what's going on? Why'd he leave?" You sigh, cupping Elvis's cheek in your hand. "It's okay baby, do you want to go down?" He nods, relaxing against your hand. "Yes, please. Go home?" He knows that when the Colonel is around, he has to usually wait till he's home to slip. "It's okay, you can go down while we're here. Mama will keep you safe." Elvis was already feeling a bit fuzzy on the edges of his mind but he knew the Colonel was still around here somewhere.

"But maaaamaaaa..." He elongated the a's as he whined, jiggling his knees a bit. "Baby, it's okay. We gotta film something for work real quick then we can go home. Mama is here. Jerry is here too. You want to see Jerry?" He nodded. Having Jerry here would really help calm his worries.

"Jerry! He wants you." Not even two minutes later, Jerry pops his head into the room, smiling at his friend and boss. "Hey E, what's up?" He looks to you to explain because he doesn't really understand. "The Colonel wants to film some regression experiment and I don't want to film it but if we do, we'll get two weeks of vacation. So we're trying to go down right now." Elvis opened his arms to his tour caregiver and best friend. "Hug, Jer?" Jerry nodded. "Yeah, E of course I'll give you a hug." Jerry gives E a hug and works his magic, helping him slip, whispering little things in his ear, helping him down. And E looks to you, pouting. "If I film whatever this is, can we go home?" You nod, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair, helping him slip even deeper. "Yes, of course baby. We can go home ad take a nap, cuddle, color, watch movies whatever you want, honey. It'll be all okay, promise."

Ten minutes later, you call the Colonel back in and he starts filming as you and E sit across from each other at the table and Jerry just watches in the corner, ready to jump in if needed.

To start off, we play around with him, talking in baby voice, pretending to eat his fingers, kissing on him, everything. "Oh I love you so much. You're the best baby ever. Yeah, you happy?" Elvis laughs as you tickle his chest and under his chin. "So giggly today."

And out of nowhere, the Colonel directs, "And stop." You hate what you need to do but you know the sooner the experiment is over, you can go home and comfort E for what you're about to do.

In a split second, you go from playing and babbling with E to straight face, looking mad at him, trying to show no expression at all. And Elvis's initial reaction just breaks your heart. He looks so confused and he whimpers, "Mama?" He's so confused. Like, why did my mama just turn off her face.

Your face stays neutral despite how hard it is and Elvis starts to try to engage you. He pats your face, trying to play with you but still you show nothing. Elvis pouts and tries to lean forward to give you a kiss. Still nothing.

"Now ignore him." Pipes up the Colonel. You sneakily show the Colonel your middle finger under the table so E doesn't see and pick a spot on the wall just staring at it, not looking at E. "Mama?" Nothing. Elvis starts to cry, trying to grab your hand and pull on you wanting your attention bad.

"Mama. Elvis wants you." Nothing. "MAMA!" Now he knows not to yell but maybe you'll pay attention to him if he's breaking the rules. "MAMA! HELP!" Now he's resorting to acting like he needs help. "MAMA!!! MAMA!" Finally, he decides to get off the chair he's sitting in and walk around the table over to you and stands in front of you, getting in your face and cupping your face in his hands. "MAMA!" He screams in your face, scared that there's something medically wrong with you now. Elvis hugs himself to you, hoping the touch will help you. Finally you decide fuck the Colonel, this has gone on long enough and hug him back.

Feeling your arms wrap around him as well, Elvis bursts into angry, scared tears. You help Elvis sit on your lap, facing you and hold him to your chest as you shush him and rock him a bit. "I'm sorry baby, all done. I'm sorry. It's over. It's all done." Elvis nods and just continues crying into your shoulder. You turn your face and repeatedly kiss his teary cheek. "I'm so sorry baby. Let's go home okay?" You adjust Elvis as you stand up and put him on your hip as he clings to you. You rub his back as you glare at the Colonel over his shoulder and Jerry walks with you out of the room.

At least you got a 2 month break out of this

I hope this was okay! I hated that the Colonel wanted to do this experiment! I wish we didn't have to do it to basically force E to be sad :( But I hope you liked it

#anonrequests #the colonel #littleelvispresley #little!e #kiwiswriting

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dratoba · 1 year

Text

"Reunion PT 2"

(Forgot to mention that time works differently on the boiling isles)

It's been 4 more hours. Now Darius was a little worried. He understood that Hunter had gone through something extremely traumatic but earlier he dropped off some food and he never ate it. It was around 12:30 when Darius decided to go check on him. Even though he said he wouldn't and he needed space he just thought it would help him sleep better. He knocked on the door. No response "Hunter? Are you alright?" Still no response. "I'm going to come in" Nothing. He opened to door to an empty room and an open window.

Oh how this brought back memories. "Oh how fun." As the golden guard Hunter would love star gazing but he wouldn't do it from his room. He would fly out the window. Wait- He can't fly anymore..oh my Titan he jumped out a two story window. Darius went downstairs and into the backyard. Hunter was sitting on the floor looking up at the stars. "Still doing this I see" "It's nice"

Seeing him so peaceful was nice. "I'm going inside. Try not to stay out here too long" Hunter nodded. He went in and went to bed. After another 1 so around 1:50 he also went to bed. The next morning it was normal-ish. Hunter came out of the room but he didn't talk much. He also didn't eat much. You would think that he would want to talk to someone about when happened but he hadn't.

He actually avoided the topic completely. He was really distant actually. Whenever someone asked him about it he'd either leave or sorta lash out at them. Just a small raise of voice. It has been 4 days staying at Darius's home. Today Eberwolf and Raine were going to the owl house again to make some plans. Darius didn't feel comfortable letting Hunter leave the house or leaving him alone since the collector most likely wants the last grimwalker.

"I'm not a child Darius, I can take care of myself. If you want to go you can go" Did I forget to mention that Hunter often forgets he's 17? "I'm sure you can" "Then why don't go?" "Because Raine and Eberwolf are staying there for 2 days having another person in the house would get crowded" Was Darius lying? Yes. Was it for getting reasons? Also yes. It was 11:26PM I mean he wasn't gonna go out so late. "Alright. I'm going to bed, goodnight"

"Goodnight" Hunter went upstairs and into the room. 20 minutes later Darius also went up to bed. At 2:42AM Darius woke up and decided to get a glass of water. He went to check on Hunter just to see if he was star gazing again. When he went in there was nobody there but the window wasn't open? He came out of the room and was going to go downstairs to check the backyard but on his way he saw the light was on in the bathroom.

Darius went in to turn it off but instead he found Hunter in the corner with his hands gripping on to his hair so hard it looked like it really hurt. His eyes were closed shut very tightly and it sounded like he was whispering something but very quietly. Darius quickly went to Hunter and kneeled down. "Hunter? Hunter snap out of it." As he tried grabbing his hands he started to make out the whispers. "it's all my fault" he just repeated that over and over.

Hunter began to cry a bit. Darius put his hand on his shoulder to see if he would move away, when he didn't he held Hunter in his arms and just let him cry. He fully broke down into tears and let go of his hair. Darius has experienced Hunter's meltdowns/panic attacks so this wasn't new. He wouldn't hold him but he'd comfort him. Hunter's whispers grew a little louder and more understandable. "It's okay..it's not your fault.."

(This paragraph is mostly dialogue) "Yes it is! It should've been me not him.." "Hunter. He sacrificed himself because he loved you. It was his choice" Hunter cried and cried. It seemed like he was holding back those tears for a long time. He said the horrible things that were on his mind and Darius listened and comforted. This went on for about 10 minutes.

Eventually he stopped crying but he still didn't move. "I'm sorry" "For what?" Darius had a feeling he knew what he was gonna say. "For acting like this so late at night it's- it's ridiculous it's weak" He was right. After so long and he still thinks like this. Belos ruined this kid in so many ways. "It's not weak to express yourself it's normal" Hunter smiled and returned the hug. "Thank you" "You're welcome, little prince"

#the owl house #toh #toh hunter #sad boy #another day another slay #dadrius #dana terrace #trauma #toh eberwolf #flapjack #suidical

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pxppet · 2 years

Text

Prodrome. (Part 2)

Teeth AU Chapter 2.

Some things fall apart; some things fall back in place.

CW: distress, major grief, flashback, physical abuse mention, abuse between brothers, sexual behaviour, drinking/alcohol, fight/argument, anger, meltdown, illness mention, death mention, coma mention

‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿

Jameson can hear them fussing. Jackie carried him back home, and Jameson could hear him apologise endlessly, hear him cry. Jameson could hear Henrik being called and he could hear him rush into the house only 30 minutes later, having dropped his shift.

"Jameson," Henrik calls. Jameson tries to turn to him, but it's like there is a great wall erected and his brain can no longer command his limbs to move. He's stuck in the exact position Jackie laid him down in. "JJ?" Henrik's voice is a question, shaking.

"Schneep? What… what's wrong with him? He just froze up. I can move him, but he won't move or do anything on his own." Jackie is trembling, unable to fix it and hating that fact. "Is it like- like a shutdown?"

Henrik, for all his iciness, seems frozen. He licks his lips. Jameson's last check up showed everything going well physically, so this seems to be mental. Waxy, stiff, unresponsive. Catatonia? But Jameson wasn't psychotic or showing symptoms. Jameson is about 20-24, and he's certainly been in enough stress…

Henrik lets out a sigh. "Jackie, it… might be something called a 'catatonic episode'. Obviously he needs psych exams to tell, but nothing physical has been out of the ordinary. We just have to wait to see what he does now."

"I want you to fix it."

"Jackie, I… can't."

"You're Jack's doctor." Jackie is crying again. Like a stupid baby. "You're his doctor and you're supposed to fix us, you need to fix him!"

"Jackie," Henrik takes his arm and wipes at his face. "It's not a physical thing. It is mental, mental illness."

"Not fair, no, we stopped him hurting, I saved him!"

"Jackie, long-term stress has certain effects on-"

Jameson listens to their conversation fade as they step in the hallway. He can't get his thoughts straight, but he can feel them as a sensation. Frozen and numbed, Jameson senses the mix of rage and terror and guilt twisting in his stomach.

About 15 minutes later - a total of 50 minutes - Jameson lets out a heavy shuddering sigh. His arms slowly release, the wall torn down, and he can move them. Jackie, tucked in a ball in the corner, is up like a shot at the sight of movement. "Jamie?! Jamie can you move now, can you hear me?!"

"Calm," Jameson signs.

"Wha'?"

"Calm, calm big. Hate. Hate hate hate hate." He repeats the sign like a stim. He's so exhausted, he can't process anything that's happened today. His face relaxes from its scrunch, and he sits up. "…Juice," he demands.

"Juice? Um. Yeah bud, I can get you juice." Jackie takes only one step to the door. Looks back. He can't let himself leave. "Hey Schneep!" Jackie calls loudly

"Did he wake up, is everything okay?!"

"Yeah, uh. Can you get him juice?"

"Juice?" Henrik shouts. "Why can't you get the juice?"

Jackie looks back at Jameson, laying against the headboard with eyes closed. Pale and weak and sick little Jameson. "Schneep, please?"

Henrik grumbles loudly, but does it. He comes into the room and sets a cold glass of orange juice on the nightstand, sitting on the bed. "How do you feel, my patient?"

Jameson peeks open an eye. "Tired."

He's just laying there then, with a sudden tensing of muscles, his eyes fill with anger. "Get out," he signs violently. "Hate this, hate you." He shoves Henrik away. Friends. His friends. Let himself feel- feel safe here, when they had his brother, his big brother, buried in the woods like a pet dog. "Get out!"

Jackie and Henrik share a look. "Okay, we can go. Just be safe, maybe sleep a little." Henrik smiles tightly, and they leave, shutting the door. Jackie sits on the floor right outside, head in his hands.

Jameson feels hot, ugly tears on his face. He pictures Anti wiping them away. He realises he has no memory of him doing so. He's sobbing, face buried against his fists in anger and betrayal and grief and hurt, hurt, hurt. They killed him. They killed his master. But they've been so kind, so nice and attentive and-! Oh god, Anti. Soft blankets and soft shining lights. A gravelly chuckle against him. Fingers through his hair and loving black eyes. Safety. Grinning pointed teeth- Teeth in his neck. File on his teeth. fingers yank his hair. Insectoid eyes on a face covered in his blood, Jameson's blood.

He weeps for all that Anti is and isn't; all that he was and was not. Is it like a slave? Chase's words echo inside him. A chain is around his neck. Anti is tugging him out of his box by his hair and hitting because he didn't want to kill someone. Constant bruises that Anti would force him to cover so he couldn't see what he'd done.

It never stops, it never ends. Unfair unfair, my brother I called you my brother. You were all I had, how could you leave me? I'll kill them for this- They saved and healed me. They took you from me. They've been so kind.

Jameson cries and griefs until he's so tired he sleeps as soon as he slumps to the pillow. Outside the door, Jackie sits guard all night, to convince himself Jameson feels safe.

Marvin is laughing. It feels like they haven't laughed in so long. Jace is pressed against them, kissing their neck, drunk and consumed in the back of a shitty bar. Marvin purrs in their throat. "Taste of beer wasn't enough for you, beetle?"

"Mmmh, I just need something with more flavour, flower," he teases, slurring, mouth pressed under their jaw. Marvin laughs, whiskey on their breath. They sigh and press onto him until the two's weight is all that keep each other up. Marvin is moving their lips to press onto his when there's a shout.

"Ma-" cut off by music. Marvin peeks up.

"Marvin! Marvin, hey!"

They unclasp from Jace and look up. They see red - literally. Jackie a few feet back, avoiding people and wide-eyed. Marvin growls and pats Jace's shoulder, letting go completely. Jace smiles and rubs his face, knowing some chaos is going to follow. They stomp over to Jackie and cover his ears to the music, nearly dragging him outside by his head.

"What?" They hiss, emphasising the T.

"I'm bringing you home! You're being impulsive and I know it's because you're upse-"

"JACKIE." They scream it so loud a smoker near the door startles. Jackie freezes, eyebrows shooting up. "I need space! I'm sorry I've been a dick, I know, but I need to be away right now! I need a damn break, I need to forget about Jack for a while or I'm going to keep being a dick!"

"You can't just forget about all this, Jameson is really sick and things keep happening and- and I- He told me to get out of his room!" Jackie is shaking. "I showed him Anti's grave and he made me leave and he was crying- He froze up for almost an hour and Schneep said something is wrong with his brain!"

"Jackie, I'm not coming home." Marvin has softened their voice in the face of Jackie's distress and sensory overload. "I need time, I can't be okay if I'm around that boy. I'm fine, just-"

"Well I'm not!" Jackie slaps his own skull and Marvin jumps. "I'm not okay Marvin! I'm fucking up over and over and I'm useless and stupid and- I can't fix it! I can't save anyone because none of you want me!"

Marvin's heart pangs and they stare with wide pupils. "Jackie, who said that to you? What? Of course we do!"

"I couldn't fix Jack and he could die any time, I can't fix how angry you are, I couldn't fix Anti and make him feel better and he wouldn't stop hurting us because I failed him! I'm- I'm a failure, I killed him and still failed." Jackie sinks to the sidewalk and covers his head, panting. "I've never saved any of you."

Marvin's jaw is hanging open, one hand out towards Jackie, helpless. They're always so helpless. "Jackie… This isn't about me, is it? It's… all of it. Too much, but you won't leave. Like I did." Marvin kneels and, like they always do, puts pressure on Jackie by hugging him close. "When… When we found that boy so sick and looking almost dead, in a cage, in the same outfit as Anti and just… suffering. Jackie I think that fucked us both up a little bit."

Jackie shivers under them. "He looked dead. He looked like all of us but dead."

"I know," Marvin whispers, small.

"I th.. I thought it was too late, and Anti had killed him before we even knew about him."

"I did too. He was so pale but all red and blue-lipped. And I just saw… Jack, sick and comatose and near-dead."

Jackie nods, hugging them back in a vice grip.

"Uh, ye boys okay?" A bouncer has walked over, having seen their distress. "Need me to call someone?"

'No, we're okay," Marvin ignores the sting of 'boys.' "Just some family troubles."

"Ahh," the man rubs his chin. "I can get ye each a lite beer, on the house. Only tonight, don't come back beggin' for another."

"Jacksie? Feel okay enough for a drink?"

"Um, sure- But can it be out here?"

Marvin brings their drinks out, kisses Jace goodbye.

They bring the cooled cans over to the bench Jackie found to get off the concrete. The two clink cans, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder through this and everything to come; and they forgive each other wordlessly as the morning hours break.

#teeth au #jameson jackson #jackieboy man #marvin the magnificent #henrik von schneeplestein #jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye egos #jacksepticeye fanfic #writersofjack #writers of jack

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futures-tense · 2 years

Text

chp 1/ || wc: 3.4k || total wc: 3.4k || ao3

“I don’t like it.”

The realtor—Sam or Sandra, he’s not sure—scoffs lightly. “Mr. Strand, you haven’t liked any of the apartments I’ve shown you.”

“You’ve shown me two,” TK shrugs. There’s a pink flier on the light pole a few feet away, flapping against the single staple holding it on.

“I’ve shown you ten.”

“They just… I didn’t like the vibes.”

“Mr. Strand.”

He shakes his head. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”

“It might be easier if you were open to a longer lease. Maybe?”

“I’m not going to be here for more than a few months,” TK shrugs.

The flier catches in the wind and flies toward them, landing right at TK’s feet. He tilts his head at the words:

Apartment For Rent.

He picks it up while his realtor continues talking about an apartment on the south side.

“What about this?”

Sam/Sandra stops and looks up from her tablet. “Well, that’s…” She looks up and points at a building across the street. “That building, but I don’t know if that’s really what you’re looking for.”

“Let’s go see it.”

She sighs and follows him across the street.

It’s nothing too pretentious like the other apartments he’d seen. Wood floors, gray walls, fully furnished, and not a single pillow out of place. Either someone staged this to look perfect or they never spilled a drop of anything anywhere.

After a few minutes, Sam—he doesn’t think that’s right but he’s sticking with it—steps into the hall to call the renter. He watches her go, then looks out the bay windows in the “living area” space.

It’s not like he wants to move.

He doesn’t. TK likes his current apartment—and then one before it, and the one before that. He didn’t like the first one.

Originally, he’d left to get away from the memories—the history. The next place felt big, too big for him and his thoughts. The place after was filled with an echoing silence.

He just can’t sit still. One bad day after another, one lonely night after the next—if he keeps convincing himself it’s the “scenery” then eventually it becomes true.

But this place could break the cycle. He’s not one to believe in mystical energies, but he has a good feeling about his one.

Sam turns the corner. “There’s no long-term lease; it’s a month-to-month sublet.” She shrugs. “Family tragedy, I guess.”

TK wanders around the apartment for all of ten minutes before declaring that this is perfect and he wants it.

Maybe he can do something with the private roof access.

***

He’s never considered himself a slob. His dad was a neat freak—everything needed to be in its place or he had a colossal meltdown and TK endured a three-hour lecture. His mom was messy but she had a system. An organized chaos of sorts. He fell somewhere in between.

He thought.

“What are you doing in my house?”

TK presses pause on the recording playing on the television and slowly turns around.

There’s a man standing there, slightly taller than him with broader shoulders and curls to die for. His brown eyes are wide and confused but TK frowns.

“I’m sorry?”

“Are you robbing me? Because there’s almost nothing of value here.”

“I’m not robbing you.”

“Then get out.”

“No. I rented it?” He slips the key out of his pocket.

“You didn’t,” the man counters, holding up his own key. ”I never agreed to it.”

TK shakes his head. ��Oh, I get it. It’s a scam. They rent it out to like five people and run off with the first months’ payments. Jesus, I don’t have energy for this.”

The man’s frown deepens. “I’ve been living here for ten years. This is all my stuff.” He looks around the apartment and his expression changes to one of disgust. “God, the least you could do is use a coaster. Look, there's rings on my coffee table now.”

TK furrows his brows and scoffs cry.

“I will go get cleaning supplies so you can fix it.”

“Wait, what?” TK follows him into the kitchen but when he rounds the corner, he’s gone. “What is going on?”

“Have you ever picked up after yourself?”

TK whips around and there he is again with a trash bag, holding it out in his direction.

“How…” TK looks back into the kitchen. “How did you do that?”

The man rolls his eyes. “If you don’t clean up after yourself and then leave, I’m calling the police.”

He drops the bag on the counter and turns, walking straight through the wall and toward the bedroom.

continue reading on ao3

#my fics #you’ll never hold me tight #just like heaven au #tk strand #carlos reyes #911 ls fics

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rasywmtra · 5 months

Text

*cw for a sort of rant under the cut, I mean no offence to anyone by writing it but I just had to let it out and swearing*

(This is just a rant for myself, not on my main blog for obvious reasons)

white boy neurodivergent privilege. It exists and it pisses me tf off.

Because when they have a melt down, it's ok, they're just being boys and they don't know what they're doing and you have to understand that they have issues so they can do no wrong because their disorder made them do it. When they (due to being enabled their whole lives) throw a violent tantrum, it's not their fault. It's never their fault, they're just confused and they can't have possibly stoped it or anything, they're perfect little angels. When they need accommodations, it's provided. They're so cute with their silly stims and cute little entitlement and how they always get away with it because look at them they're a little blond boy who can do no wrong.

This isn't to say that all white boy neurodivergents have perfect lives, or that any of them do, but I think we can all see they are by far the most accepted packaging for spicy brains.

Now when anyone else has a meltdown? OH NO FUCK THE CRAZY PERSON NEEDS TO BE LOCKED UP! "stop being dramatic" "Stop crying, you have no right" "Don't you dare make another sound" "you're making a scene" "You ruin everything with your crazy mood swings" "Stop faking it" "You're making me look bad" "Why can't you just be normal?"

Stimming? "Go sit in the corner and think about what you did" "You're disrupting the class" "Stop, it annoys me" "Why are you so weird" "Hands at your sides, this is important" "Why are you fidgeting? are you hiding something?" "I'm going to take it away from you until you can hold it normally"

Sensory issues? "It's not that bad" "wow so convenient that you can't come help us because of this, suck it up" "No one else has an issue with it" "The flickering isn't even noticeable" "What do you mean you can't hold it? Why is it so hard to do one thing for me?" "It's not like you can even hear it"

nonverbal? "Use your words" "Stop ignoring me you brat" "Speak to me! I didn't do anything wrong!" "Answer me right now or else" "did you lose your voice or something? It was working fine when you were yelling at me for [insert triggering thing they did]"

Need accommodations? too bad! You're gonna need about five billlion notes including one from your dead relative, figure it out!

"You're not disabled enough for this" "Well you aren't like really neurodivergent- you function properly" "My cousin is autistic and you're not like him at all! So clearly you're faking it!" "You can talk though" "Oh... that's not normal, my brother is hyperfixated on trucks and you aren't, so clearly you don't really have adhd" "You don't LOOK neurodivergent" "You're not exactly like [insert white boy name] and he's [insert disorder] so you have it easy!"

It happens time and time again!

I was shunned and called names and just fucking hated for just being myself and my brothers were put on a gold stage for using their neurodivergence as an excuse to be brats.

Me? banned from the office unless i was fucking dying

My brothers? "Oh come in dear, have a key to the back door so you can come in if you ever need anything!" "You don't like class? just stay here!" "You beat up a kid? I'll call them in to apologize to you"

And clearly this isn't the instance for every person but I have seen it far too often, not just with me but with literally every single time I come across neurodivergent people. There is a diferent between how we're treated and it sucks ass!

Anyway sorry if I offended anyone, but yeah, if I help even one person not feel like a bitch for agreeing with me i've done my job

#rasywmtra #rants #vent #tw swearing

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jarofmeat · 2 years

Text

Here have Angst

I´m sorry about my horrible writing.

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

Undyne was going through some of the old boxes in her closet. Monsters had just gotten freed from the Underground and were headed to the surface and she wasn't an expectation. She didn't really have anyone other than Gerson and Asgore and they were already on the surface dealing with potential stuff, but mo…

Undyne slapped herself, ¨No, no, no. Stop thinking about them. They're gone now.¨ She didn't want to think about them, she was past that point in her life and she needed to move on. She kept going through the boxes trying to keep her thoughts of them suppressed. Instead, she thought about the cool things that would be on the surface.

All the new food, activities, people, it made her want to just run to the surface and experience it all. She giggled to herself, she never patience, dad hated… ´NO, NO, NO. Stop, stop, stop. Stop thinking about them. They´re dead. They aren't gonna come back,´ she yelled at herself in her mind. Tears streamed down her face.

She slapped herself again, trying to stop herself from going into a full meltdown, but it was too late. She was now in the corner of her closet, sobbing her heart out. She banged her head against the wall behind her, trying to stop herself, or maybe even knock herself out. But of course that didn't work. Then her phone ran, and she looked over at it.

Sans was calling her. She froze for a bit. Sans was probably one of the only people who was able to tell when she was trying to hide something. Should she answer it? No. Yes? If she didn't answer he would probably come over worried and see her like this. She mustered up all of her courage and answered the call. ¨Hey Sans.¨ she said, trying to hide her stuerrting and the upset in her voice.

¨hey fishsticks,¨ Sans said, snarky. Undyne could sense his smile. She didn´t have the energy to yell at him, so she just said, ¨What´s up.¨ Sans didn't respond at first, mumbling, ¨no respond, weird.¨ He eventually responded though, ¨me and paps just finished packing up our stuff and we just wanted to know if you needed help.¨

¨No, I´m good,¨ Undyne said, slowly getting up, ¨I´m almost done packing.¨ ¨well that's good… hey undyne.¨ ¨Yeah?¨ ¨are you okay?¨ ¨Y-yeah, I´m fine,¨ she said, her voice cracking. ¨… I´m coming over,¨ Sans said, the sound of his teleporting filling Undyne´spears. Sans ended the call, and she heard knocking on her front door.

Undyne´s body froze, and she started shaking. ´Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit!´ she screamed inside of her head. She started breathing, wiping her tears, and heading to the door. She opened it and Sans stood there, staring at her. ¨what's going on?¨ Undyne looked away from Sans trying to think about a way to lie out of this situation.

She backed away a bit. Maybe she could lock herself in the closet. No. Sans would just teleport into the closet with her. Sans must have noticed her nervousness because he sighed and said, ¨Come on, let's make some tea and talk about it over that.¨ Sans walked into the house, closing the door behind him. Undyne´s body is untensed.

Undyne started making the tea, thinking about how she would tell Sans. She didn't want to tell him directly, but she didn't know what she could lie about. The high pitched wail of the tea terrified her. She didn't have anything, and didn´t want to talk about it. She had gotten over it. She didn't need to talk about it. She was fine.

Tears streamed down her face. Sans wasn't facing her, sitting at her table. Undyne was breathing heavily, trying not to sob her heart out in front of Sans. ¨hey undyne, you okay?¨ Sans said. Sans walked next to Undyne, looking up at her. He started patting her back, ¨you can cry, it's okay.¨ Undyne started sobbing, getting on her knees.

¨just let it all out.¨ Undyne stopped sobbing a few minutes later. ¨do you want to tell me what's wrong?¨ Undyne shook her head. ¨that's fine… but remember if want to talk, i´m here.¨ ¨Thanks Sans.¨ ¨no problem buddy.¨

#undertale #undertale fanfiction #my fanfic writing #JammyWriting

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

Acting Up (mini blurb)

thanks sm to Sarah who generously donated to my ko fi. she requested a blurb about mlbrry going to get ice cream as a family so here you go! with a little harry in DAD mode.

—

It was a hot night and the kids were a bit stir-crazy, so was eight-month pregnant YN in the house while Harry had been traveling to play.

“Mama, what’d y’want?” Harry murmurs, hand rubbing her bump as they wait with one hand as he has Ezra propped on his hip on the other side.

“Everything sounds so good,” She groans as she looks over the menu, pregnancy hunger was a real thing.

Her bump was bigger than any of her other pregnancy and she was quite miserable - though trying to make the best out of it.

“I’ll buy y’the whole menu,” Her husband replies as he reviews the menu board in front of them as well.

“Then I’ll be as big as house,” YN quips, hands running through Cash’s curly locks as he hugs her leg

“Just more f’me to love on,” He hums happily, moving to grope her bum a bit until she smacks his off with an eye roll.

He sees out of the corner of his eye his oldest taunting his middle child with goofy faces.

“Easton, enough,” Harry scolds as he sees Cash’s eyebrows furrow as he gets frustrated with his older brother.

Six and four - what an age.

The oldest stops at the firm tone of his father, huffing and giving his brother a dirty look before moving to stand next to his dad.

When they arrive at the order window, a teenage boy steps over to greet them, his mouth drops open as he sees who it is.

“Y-you’re Harry S-Styles,” The kid stutters, his face flushing red and his eyes wide as he stares at the celebrity.

Harry smiles kindly with a chuckle, “I am. Are you fan? Pleasure to meet you.”

“Daddy, why does he know your name?” Cash asked in confusion as he peeks around his father’s leg.

“‘cause he plays babeball, stupid,” Easton replies with an attitude towards his brother.

“Mama!” Cash shrieks offendly.

YN sighs, cupping Harry’s hand on her belly for moment, “Order me a banana split with peanut butter and extra strawberry. I’m going to go talk to East.”

YN pulls Easton to an empty table with enough room for the five of them and also to accommodate her belly.

“Why are you picking on your brother?” YN uses her mom mode voice as she watches her son pout out his lip.

“He stole my dolphin stuffie earlier!”

Of course.

“Is that the proper way to treat him though?” YN questions directly, tilting his chin up so she can make eye contact.

“No mama,” Easton mumbles, struggling to keep his mother’s gaze.

“Will you say sorry to him when he comes over?” YN encourages.

He agrees, lisps out an apology before Harry hands him a bowl of chocolate ice cream with rainbow sprinkles.

After a few minutes, YN winces and stands from the table, a hand going to rest of her back.

“What’s wrong, mama?” Harry asks with concern laced in his tone. He was currently feeding Ezra little bits of strawberry that was dripping down his chin.

“Just my back is achey, I’m just going to stand and eat,” She grumbles, shifting her weight side-to-side as she takes small bites of her banana split.

“Stop it!” Easton whines when Cash sticks his finger into his older brothers bowl and submerges it in his ice cream.

“Cash,” Harry states, reaching for his middle son’s arm “Get y’hand out of your brother’s food, right now.”

Cash listens but snickers when he realizes he’s managed to annoy Easton.

When Harry looks back to his wife, he then hears Cash shouting, “No!”

The parents look back to see Easton with chocolate ice cream as his nice white shirt and Cash with a sticky hand of melted dessert.

“Cash!” YN scolds on frustration, they were really usually good with each other but today was not their day.

She sits down her food to rustled through the diaper bag for wipes. She cleans off Cash’s hands with a pointed stare as Harry reaches over to clean up Easton.

“You’re done,” Harry tells Cash firmly, picking up his son’s bowl that he hadn’t finished and dumping it in the garbage. “Y’don’t get ice cream if y’just goin’ to throw it.”

That sends the middle one into a meltdown and it makes it even worse when Easton taunts, “No more for you!”

It has Cash standing up and darting around the table but Easton sees him and gets up to bolt away from his grasps.

“Stop running right now,” Harry raises his voice, groaning when Ezra starts to whimper at the chaos and holds on to Harry tighter.

“Boys! Listen to your fa-“

Easton darts around his mother but Cash isn’t as agile yet and knocks right into the front of her calves causing her banana split to drop out of her hands and for her to stumble.

“Baby!” Harry panics, instantly moving forward to grab her arm and pulls her towards him so she tumbles into his chest instead of backwards.

“Oh my god,” YN whimpers, her breathing becoming quicker as her heart rate spikes from the scare, hands coming to her bump.

The boys are frozen still were they’re at. Eyes wide and tears welling at the fear their mother got hurt by them

“Mama, y’alright? Sweetheart, I know Y’got scared. Breathe for me,” Harry soothes more worried about his wife than scolding his kids.

“If I would have fallen,” YN is tearing up, anxiety spiking through her chest at the thought of the baby getting hurt.

Harry is breathing heavier than he’d like to admit too.

“Don’t cry, s’okay. The baby is perfect, y’keeing them so nice and safe, bein’ a perfect mama,” He assures her, kissing her temple and brushing away a tear.

Ezra is distressed too, of course the sensitive little boy is, chanting, “mommy, mommy, mommy.”

She clears her throat, smiling softly at her youngest boy, “M’okay, Ezzie. It’s all okay.”

“Mama, hold me,” Ezra begs, reaching out his arms to be switched to his mother but Harry holds him tight and shakes his head ‘no.’

“Not right now baby. Mommy doesn’t feel very good,” YN tells him, chest still pounding, back still aching.

And when their youngest starts sobbing, screaming that he wants his mother, well...YN starts feel overwhelmed by her two olders ones who are whimpering because they know they’re in trouble and Ezra tantruming.

“Sweetheart,” Harry can tell by the tears bubbling up along her waterline what’s going on, “Baby, y’okay. What do y’need?”

YN sucks in a deep breath, gathering her thoughts for a moment, “I just need a minute alone. You can have Easton and Ezra finish their ice cream. Then come after you’re done.”

“I can do that,” Harry replies sadly, he couldn’t stand seeing his wife upset or scared - it was one of the worst feelings for him.

When YN grabs the car keys and leaves towards the car, Ezra settles as soon as he’s being fed ice cream again. The boys hesitantly go back to their seats across from their dad.

Harry knows they’re young. They don’t understand what it would mean if they knocked their heavily pregnant mother over but it doesn’t mean aggravation isn’t running through him at the two.

“Daddy...” Easton sniffles cautiously, kicking his feet under the table as his chest shutters.

“Yes?” Harry answers calmly, looking up from Ezra to meet his son’s gaze - the same green eyes staring back at him.

“Do you and mommy hate us?” His oldest asks as he wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand.

“No, mama and I love you two with all our hearts. But daddy is very upset with you two right now, do you understand why?”

They both nod in agreement that they do.

“Why are we upset?” Harry prompts as he takes a wet wipe to rubs over Ezra’s strawberry stained face.

“Cause we made mommy almost fall,” Cash lisps shamefully.

Harry nods, “And we tell you very often that we have to be careful with mama because she’s got a baby in her belly and we have t’keep the baby safe.”

“Are we in trouble?” Easton voice is still quiver with his guilt.

“I’ll have t’talk to y’mom but if it happens again, y’both are goin’ to be in a lot of trouble and y’gonna get a consequence. Do you understand that too?”

They nod in unison. Easton hadn’t touched his ice cream again, gets up to throw it away as he loiters - looking towards the car where his mother is sitting away from them.

Cash gets up to but slowly walks around the table to his father.

“M’sorry daddy,” He squeaks tearfully, moving forward and digging his face into Harry’s bicep.

“Cash,” Harry soothes, grasps his son lightly under the chin, “I love you very much, okay? We just can’t do things like that. Y’need to listen to daddy and mama.”

He nods in understanding before crawling up into his father’s lap, right next to Ezra - who gives him an affronted glare when he realizes he has to share space with him.

When they’re done and Harry has let enough time past, he walks the little group of boys toward their SUV.

He opens the passenger side door where YN is reclined a bit, hand on her stomach and the air-conditioner blasting cold air on her face.

“The boys have somethin’ t’say,” Harry smiles softly, leaning over to give his wife a quick kiss.

“M’sorry mama,” Cash whispers.

“Me too, mommy,” Easton adds on.

“I forgive you both. You just have to be careful with me. You’re sibling is in here and we have to keep them nice and healthy, right? I love you two more than anything.”

#mlb!harry #mlbrry #mlb!Harry blurbs #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing

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