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#i try to have a first draft of my fic finished before i start posting

thepatchycat · 1 year

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Last Sentence Tag Game

Rules: Write the latest line from your wip (or post where you last left off in your art) and tag as many people as there are words in the line. Make a new post, don’t reblog.

Thanks to @existentialscientist for the tag! This is more than a line (felt odd not to have the previous paragraph for context) and not technically from the most recent thing I've poked at, but I need to motivate myself to work on this one again.

Padme steps carefully around the little speederbike parked just inside the entrance and then finds herself effectively in the middle of the apartment two seconds later. Ahsoka’s apartment is… small. Smaller than Padme’s closet. The single main room is furnished with a bed, a tiny kitchenette, and a door that presumably leads to a refresher.

“Do you want any—well, uh, water? I don’t have tea, sorry.”

– from Defiance, a Star Wars fix-it longfic that's been simmering in my WIPs for almost 2 years so far and is nowhere near finished

No pressure, of course, but I'll tag @squirrelwriter and @good-beans! And I know it's a cop-out, but if you're reading this and want to share something, consider yourself tagged as well :P

#Not a terribly exciting excerpt but it's the most recently added #And of all the WIPs I have this is the one I'm most determined to finish #...Eventually #A few chapters are complete but I want to get the whole thing at least fully drafted before posting #Maybe I'd be more motivated if I started putting them up but I KNOW my update schedule would be horrendously irregular #And I like being able to go back and edit early chapters at my leisure #...Perhaps if I'm really feeling it someday I'll put the first chapter up here and then start posting on AO3 when the thing is largely done #Also I'm slowly trying to post a bit more rather than simply dropping off finished art/fic and fading into the ether for weeks/months #I think this is the first time I've responded to being tagged in a tag game #Though I appreciate the previous couple times I have!#I'm just. Shy. I guess. Kind of? Maybe self-conscious is more accurate #And I'm also good at saying I'll do something later and then not doing that Cx #Patchy Writes #Patchy Babbles #Tag Games

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chappellroansdreamgirl · 23 days

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ellie with a mean gf!

(prjoecting like a mf rn...)

a/n - i have been very unmotivated to write full-fleshed stuff so i'm deciding to write drabbles/headcannons for now. also THANK YOU FOR ALL THE ATTENTION ON CH.1 OF GOOD LUCK, BABE! it makes my heart smile that you guys love it so much... also😭😭...: @sweetcici11 srry that i lied and said ur fic would be out a few nights ago. i'm really trying to finish it but i don't want to rush it and it be shitty. i really want it to be enjoyable and as good as it can be. but i PROMISE you it WILL be posted... sooner or later! i also have a few more drafts to finish too, so, i hope you guys like them when they come out!!!!!

content warnings - fluff, i'm a bitch and i want to feel loved and think that someone can put up with my cuntiness😝😝 , over-usage of commas probably, i think they're low-key kind of toxic?!?!?!?! , guys i promise i'm not this bad i've just been pretty insufferable these last few days and need an outlet 😭😭 .

i wrote way more than i thought i was going to...

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- you both hated each other at first. ...well actually, you hated her, and she was like, "😞😞" and then got used to it after a while and started being mean back 2 u!!

- dina introduced ellie to you when you both were hanging out with her. "you guys are going to love each other🥰!" ... you didn't 🤗 !

- ellie said hi to you and all you did was look her up and down, stare at her for a few seconds and then turn your head.

- everytime ellie would (attempt to) strike up a conversation you would give an overtly enthusiastic response or just stare at her like she had two heads or just blatantly ignore her. dina is over there like, '😟😟 . can we not have one good day...' when dina would leave for short periods of time and ellie was sure that you didn't like her, she would just talk about anything to get your blood boiling, our girl lllloooovvveessss to push buttons, we know this to be true.

- it got worse yet more tolerable after that. whenever she'd see you at gatherings or parties, you'd do your damnest to stay away from/avoid her. and she'd do her damnest to get you as upset with her as possible. it always ended with not-so-playful not-so-friendly banter!

- you were talking with jesse about something on the couch, and ellie came over and DELIBERATELY, DELIBERATELY... interrupted you 🤗 ! :

you shoot daggers at her face with your eyes, your jaw set hard and your eyes narrowed.

ellie tried to feign innocence, raising a brow at you after she looked over to see your facial expressions long after she felt them.. "what are you looking at me like that for🤨🤨?" , "i was fucking talking, you're being rude." , "if i have to get used to you being a bitch, you got to do the same." , you just huffed at her response and crossed your arms before walking off a few minutes after, realizing that the conversation you were having with jesse earlier was indeed over. ellie smirked to herself, victory was her's!

- she started calling you the nickname brat out of the blue... it blindsided tf out of you. here's the origin story!:

you look at ellie with a disgusted look on your face as she exhales smoke. her glazed over eyes meet yours before she offers the joint to you, out of genuine kindness. "want a hit?" she asked, forgetting how much of a bitch you were for, like, 0.2 seconds. you glare at her for a moment longer before plastering a sarcastic smile on your face, snatching the joint from her fingertips and dropping it onto the floor. you kept her eyes on yours as you stomped and smushed it into the ground.

now she remembered.

she stood up instantaneously, she was pissed. "what the fuck?!" she shouted, earning a few looks from some friends across the room. they strained their necks for a little bit before they saw you, it made sense now, and then turned back to the conversation.

you close your eyes for a slight second as a satisfied smile graced the corners of your lips. "you know i don't smoke, ellie." you responded with in a condescendingly sweet voice.

she didn't even argue with you. "you're such a fuckin' brat." she muttered under her breath before walking away. you had to try your very best to ignore the heartbeat in your pussy. (🤗!)

- she didn't get to see how much effect that title had on you that night, but she noticed afterwards.

- one time you didn't say anything to ellie during a hangout, distracted by someone you disliked more than her. ellie kind of missed it☹️☹️ .

you were brought out of your thoughts when you felt her cold hand touch your shoulder. when you noticed it was her who was doing it, you pulled back with a furrow of her brows. ellie smiled. there she was.

"you haven't said one mean thing to me since i've gotten here. are you dying?"

you scoffed as you pointed in the direction your anger was radiating from. it was a girl ellie saw here and there in jackson, sometimes she was paired with her during patrols, she wasn't crazy about her but she paid no mind to her existence.

"what?- what does this have to do with me-"

"what it has to do with you, is that you should feel honored that i can tolerate you... can't fuckin' stand that bitch."

ellie scoffed before speaking up once more, "oh, c'mon you're being dramatic. don't be a brat."

your eyes went wide for a second and as you turned away, she could see the cheek that was facing her turn an embarrassing shade of red. she found your weakness.

- when you guys started dating, no one, and i mean NO ONE, believed it. (i don't feel like writing how u two got together maybe if y'all like this enough i'll make a full-fleshed oneshot abt it😭.)

- joel saw you guys together... like, not arguing, and HER head on YOUR shoulder... he thought he got laced with acid for a quick second there... jesse felt like he missed a couple chapters and felt very sad that he hadn't caught onto it quicker... and dina was so proud of herself, "told you, you guys would love each other 😁." she's so smug, I LOVE HER!

- she constantly has to reprimand you like you're a child when you guys are around someone you obviously don't like for whatever reason. once whoever left the room, ellie'll pinch your shoulder or your thigh, whatever skin is on display at the moment, not too hard, just to get you to wince a bit. you'll make a face at her afterwards. "ow, what the fuck was that for ellie?" , "we can talk shit when we get home, don't make a scene🙄." you stress her out sometimes...

- just bcs you guys are together DOES NOT mean your attitude has gone away.

whenever ellie and you have gotten in an argument, you're always being extra sarcastic and EXTRA BITCHY just to get on her nerves.

"baby, have you seen my gun?" she asks you, breaking the silence voluntarily as she's two minutes from being late to patrol.

you don't look up to her, you keep on looking at the pages of an old magazine. "idk ellie, did you check to see if it was shoved up your ass."

she just stands there for a second like this 🧍‍♀️ , before sighing and walking somewhere else to find it. "i'll fuckin' deal with you later." she mutters under her breath, obviously annoyed. you smirk to yourself as you flip another page.

- she does love, however, that you've gotten gentler with her since the relationship blossomed between you two. very few people (dina and ellie... sometimes jesse.) can get you to stop, and ellie is proud of herself that she could add beast-tamer to the top of her list of many skills and talents.

- sometimes she has to calm you down, sometimes all it takes is a stare in your direction. ... well, it's oftentimes a glare... you're your own woman/person and a relationship will not restrict you from showing off your talents!!!!!

- ellie has to constantly keep you from getting into arguments that could harm you physically. although your craft of bitchery is amazing, you can't fight to save your life.

she'll be pulling you back like an angry barking dog on a leash.

"i could've fucking took h-" , "you overestimate yourself a lot, baby."

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sundrop-writes · 2 months

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Officially announcing my new series: Careful.

A limited multi-chapter series with Spencer Reid and Fem Reader, featuring angst, smut, and the trope of exes to lovers where Spencer finds out that he is a father four years after you have given birth to his child.

'When you and Spencer broke up, he tried to forget about you. He pushed all of those feelings for you down - until he sees your name on a list of potential victims being hunted by a man who kills single mothers.'

The series will be approximately 40k long in total (spread across six chapters) and will be posted every Friday, starting on March 8th, 2024, and continuing until ending on April 12th, 2024.

THE FIRST CHAPTER IS NOW POSTED!!!

(I am making a posting schedule, and I am gonna try really, really hard to stick to it this time guys.)

The series is already finished in my drafts - it just needs to be edited before posting. However, comments and encouragement are highly appreciated and welcomed throughout this process. The fic will not have a taglist (taglists are not something I do) - if you enjoy the concept or the preview below and you want to know when future chapters are coming out, then you will simply have to follow me here and turn on notifications for this blog, or you can find me on AO3 and subscribe to me there to get emails when this series and it's future chapters are posted.

Below is a short preview of the fic - so if you want to get a better sense of what the fic is about, click through and read it, and hopefully, you will enjoy.

Preview Word Count: 1,800

Warnings: typical Criminal Minds episode warnings; mentions of murder/killing; the reader character is being targeted by a killer and doesn't know it yet; the reader has a young child (a four year old son); the reader is a cis woman who uses she/her pronouns and a has a vagina; emotional angst between Spencer and the reader; the reader and Spencer had a romantic relationship around season 1/season 2 and this is meant to take place around season 6(ish) but you can picture any later version of Spencer you want; the reason that the reader and Spencer broke up is purposefully vague here but it will be fully revealed in the full story; the reader purposefully kept the pregnancy/Spencer's child away from him; Spencer didn't know he had a child out there in the world; there is some smut in this - unprotected penetration (a flashback to how the baby got here); possibly something that could be labelled as a breeding kink; making love/intense passionate sex; I believe that's in for this short part.

...

The team found themselves buried in paper, looking through the preschool applications for anyone who fit the UnSub’s victimology - praying that they would be able to pick out the next victim and get to her before the UnSub did.

“We’re never gonna get through these fast enough, are we?” Prentiss sighed, continuing to sift through the papers.

“We just have to go as fast as we can, and hope the UnSub sticks to his schedule.” Morgan replied. “He has to spend time stalking them, learning their routine. Even if he has chosen his victim by now, he won’t break into the home until he’s fully confident that he won’t be disrupted.”

“And the stalking helps build up the fantasy.” Reid added on. “He romanticizes them from afar, sends them gifts. It adds to his delusions of grandeur and forbidden love. The idea that he’s swooping in to become the perfect father figure for these ‘broken’ families.”

“Plus, most of these applications are from two-parent households.” JJ pointed out. “We can throw out anything with a second applicant on the form, because he’s only targeting single mothers.”

The conversation was easily drowned out for Spencer when he saw it.

It should have been just another page among the sea in his hands, but when he saw those words on the page - that name - it was like a punch to the gut that brought back a flood of memories he thought that he had locked away forever.

It was you.

What the hell were you doing applying for preschools?

Spencer rushed to tear this paper out from the others in the stack in order to read it more carefully.

You had a son.

…

When you answered the knock on your door, you were entirely lost for words, your mouth going numb from shock when you saw him.

The last thing you were expecting was to find Spencer Reid on your doorstep.

Your heart raced inside your chest, your body so overwhelmed so quickly that you couldn’t even decide on an emotion.

Happiness. Joy. Lust. Longing. Sadness. Relief.

Shock.

You lingered on shock for a while as you stared at him, your eyes locked on the sight of him - wondering what the hell he was doing standing on your porch. How did he know where you lived? Why was he here?

“Y/N,”

He said your name in that honey-sweet way, and it brought you rocketing back to that awful night all those years ago. Your stomach dropped, and you felt like you were standing in that apartment all over again, tears in your eyes as you faced down the crashing reality that the best relationship you ever had in your life was over.

This brought on a whole new wave of confusing emotions.

Anger. Rage. Sadness. Bitterness. Regret.

Like your brain was a spin-wheel, it whirled around for a few hectic moments, and then - you landed somewhere between anger and pure rage.

And that was when you finally spoke.

“Spencer Reid.” You hissed out his name like it was pure venom - immediately, Spencer’s features fell from looking at you with nostalgic fondness, and dropped out to fear. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Spencer opened his mouth, seemingly to answer this question, and the rage pumped harder in your system. You found that you didn’t want to hear whatever it was that he had to say.

You stepped through the door, easily stepping into his personal space as you came onto the porch, and you gave him a hard shove in the middle of his chest as you spoke your next words - much louder than you intended.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

You screeched, your emotions carrying your actions before any sense of logic or common decency could kick in. It was emotion that you had locked away four years ago - and apparently, it had been aging like wine, only becoming more potent with time.

“You think that you can just magically show up in my life again after I specifically told you not to contact me?” You added on with a howl. “Do you think that order has a fucking expiration date on it?”

You gave him another hard shove - perhaps expecting to prompt an answer out of him, or wanting to shove him off the porch entirely and get him out of your life once again. Which of those it was, you weren’t even sure.

“You better have a good fucking reason for showing up here!” You screeched, your voice becoming so loud that it wore out your throat.

“Look, Y/N, I-” He stuttered out.

“Don’t say my name.” You hissed, cutting him off. “Don’t say my name like we’re friends.”

You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest, and Spencer shoved his hands into his pockets, now finding himself utterly speechless.

He definitely was not expecting this kind of reception.

…

You hadn’t taken the news that you were potentially being hunted by a serial killer very well.

Although, strangely enough, that wasn’t even close to being the hot topic when JJ and Spencer got back in the car, watching you pull out of your driveway to attend to something you said was entirely urgent.

“What the hell happened between the two of you?” JJ asked, the question finally unleashing from her lips.

“It’s complicated.” Spencer huffed out in reply.

…

Eventually - you did sit down and talk things out with Spencer, calmly.

He had a lot of questions, and you tried your best to answer them.

“Can I ask you one more thing?” Spencer asked when it came to the forefront of his mind.

“Sure,” You sighed. “I think we have a few more minutes before you have to go.”

“When did you find out that you were pregnant?” He asked. “Was it - was it before? Or after?”

“After.” You told him. “It - it was about two weeks after. When I took one of those at home tests. And I had already made up my mind that I never wanted to see you again. So just - then and there, I decided that I was gonna raise the kid alone.”

“So - so do you know when-?” Spencer began, and you cut him off.

You already knew what he was going to say.

‘Do you know when he was conceived?’

“No.” You rushed to say.

But it was a lie. You knew.

You felt like you couldn’t tell him the truth about this. If there was one thing you couldn’t afford to do right now, with Spencer Reid sitting at your kitchen table, staring at you with his big, inquisitive, glossy eyes, licking his lips, with his firm jaw set tight in contemplation - you couldn’t afford to go reminiscing with him about the night your son had been conceived.

You had spent a lot of time during your pregnancy thinking. Doing the math. Trying to remember.

And you knew exactly when.

The night was so vivid in your mind.

…

He captured your lips in a smooth, knowing, passionate kiss - you didn’t hesitate to moan into his mouth, and Spencer echoed it right back. He had missed you so much during the day; even though he had seen you less than forty-eight hours before this, he felt decades of yearning in his heart.

When he felt the bare head of his cock bump up against your entrance, smearing your wetness over him, he moaned even harder against your mouth. He pulled away from the kiss with a huff, moving his hand to your hip then as he asked a very important question.

“Do you have a condom?”

It broached the front of his mind, then, that he hadn’t brought one with him.

“You don’t need one.” You breathed out in reply, combing your hand through his hair, raking your nails across his scalp in a way that made his hips unconsciously buck forward.

When he felt more of that warm wetness smear across him, his cock just barely dipping into your heat - he didn’t entirely care to decipher the meaning behind your words. He simply trusted you.

“Please, Spencer.” You begged quietly. “I need you. Just you.”

(Later, when he was looking back on it, he would have guessed that you meant you were taking your oral birth control consistently. But looking back on it now - it was the only time within those last months of your relationship that the two of you didn’t use a condom. You were urging him on, and maybe, at the time - a baby truly was what you had in mind.)

He wasn’t one to deny you anyway. And he certainly wasn’t going to deny himself of this.

He reached down and used a hand around the base of his cock to help line himself up, and gently guided the length of his cock into you.

This was always his favorite part.

The gasp - the lilting moan you let out when his cock first slid into you, the way your thighs flexed around his hips - it was all so perfect. But it was even more perfect without the barrier of a condom in the way.

It was perfect. It was so easy; it all came so naturally between the two of you. It was a perfect rhythm between your bodies that came from knowing each other so well, feeling so at ease with each other.

It wasn’t just out of the visceral need to have him inside of you; it was the pure yearning to feel close to him, to have him as physically close as possible.

With you, so tight and beautiful around him - he didn’t last. He couldn’t.

“Y/N.” He warbled out your name, almost as a warning.��

“It’s okay.” You breathed back. “Cum for me. Come on, please.”

Spencer couldn’t resist - not when you said ‘please’.

The sound that came from his chest could only be described as a cry, and any fleeting thought he might have had about pulling out left his brain in a millisecond when he felt your tightness fluttering around him, his hips unconsciously fucking deep into you, his body loving the feeling of being held tightly there while your cunt milked him for all he was worth.

He certainly didn’t miss the sweet moans you let out - the bright eyed awe you started up at him with as you felt his cum fill you up for the first time.

…

It was one of the last good memories you had with Spencer - one of the most perfect pictures you had of who he truly was before he came home from Georgia such a different person, and you had no clue why.

Spencer could instantly see the lie in your body language - how closed off you became, how quickly you rushed to cut off his words. Along with the intense heat reflected in your eyes. You were thinking about that night.

He thought he knew exactly which night you were thinking about, and he was going to call you out on it, make you admit in your own words how perfect that night was, even if the two of you were ruined now, a shadow of what you once were.

But he was disrupted by the sound of his phone ringing.

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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huramuna · 4 months

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beware the sapphire peak - chapter 1.

aemond targaryen x wife reader x alys rivers a period piece, set in 1902.

prev | next

wordcount: 2.6k

you're a young, american lady who is an aspiring author. you are wooed by a mysterious and charming savant from england. swept off your feet, you're whisked away to his family's ancient estate, Dragonstone Hall. but with all stories, secrets are hiding around every corner, and your suitor is no different. a crimson peak inspired mini series. (this will likely be about 3 parts)

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings!

content: smut, angst, gaslighting, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, alys in her girlboss gatekeep gaslight era, no use of y/n, afab reader, pre-established alysmond, this isn't going where you think it is (it might be), infidelity-ish, polyamory

to death we dance - salem's heir • the flower duet - sabine devieilhe & marianne crebassa

“You were nearly late, miss,” one of the butlers murmured in your ear. “The music’s just started.”

“There is a quote about being fashionably late, isn’t there?” you mused, taking his gloved hand as he helped you up the steps.

It was a banquet for your father’s business, a celebration of having struck gold (oil) and turning a huge profit. Or, in your words, an excuse for the high and mighty to get plastered and dance the night away. Your fist clenched upon the train of your dress– a lovely evening gown in eggshell white, with hand embroidered lilacs and lavender petals on it, spindling up your bodice like a trellis. Your usually somewhat unruly hair was tamed into a braided and pinned up-do, with an expensive broach poked into the bun of hair in the shape of a falling wisteria branch.

Your father was the first to greet you, peeling away from the gaggle of portly oil barons. He kissed your cheek. “You look lovely tonight, my dear. A vision in purple, I must say.”

You smiled back at him. “Yes, well, you all but wringed my arm to get me to attend– and you shall hold up your end of the bargain… right?” you hummed softly, batting your eyelashes.

He let out a small sigh, nodding. “I will send your manuscript to the publisher– the editor in chief is here tonight, if you’d care to mingle. Amongst… many other eligible bachelors, I might add.”

Your father had spent the better part of the last three years gently trying to pair you up with a suitor for marriage. He was a patient man, as he had droned on about so many times before, but his patience was waning. You were twenty-one years old, and apparently, that was a ghastly sight– to be twenty-one and unmarried with no promising prospects.

Of course, you couldn’t care less. You were more focused on finishing your manuscript in that time– you had a knack for writing and reveled in works of fiction that tended to lean to the darker sides of things. It had finally reached a point you were somewhat happy with, and had convinced your father to chat up his well connected colleagues so you may be able to send the first draft to a publisher.

The price for that, however, was to entertain suitors. At a gala. Dressed and primped like a Thanksgiving turkey. It was all so dreary to you– the ladies stared at you and whispered, citing you as the dreary one.

Breaking away from your father with a tiny smile, you began to mingle– as well as you could, anyhow. You were awkward and a bit sheltered and it showed. However, once you said who your father was, dollar signs would flash in the eyes of the men you were speaking with, and they would push forward in the conversation. You weren’t ugly by any means and could become a good wife to some young entrepreneur– but you didn’t want that.

You were about fed up with it all three hours later, your nails clinking against the glass of champagne you were nursing for the better part of thirty minutes. Your look of slight annoyance managed to stave off any other wanton suitors– until another man approached you. You had exchanged some glances with him during the night, but you didn’t recognize him. He was tall, exceedingly taller than any of the other men there. His blonde hair, so pale it was almost white in hue, was cinched at the nape of his neck in a clean ponytail, falling between his shoulder blades. He was in a custom-fitted three piece black and green suit– you could tell from how perfectly it was hugging him, in all the right places.

A familiar heat came to your cheeks as you watched him saunter over to you with an intent in his pale blue eyes– eye? One of them, you noted as he came closer, was slightly off-color from the other and moved a bit slower. Likely fake, you thought. The light casted over the planes of his face, chiseled as it was, illuminating the slightly raised, puckered skin near the fake eye in a distinctual scar. He looked just like the perfect inspiration for a protagonist in one of your novels– or mayhaps an antagonist. He seemed to skim the line between the two in appearance alone.

Curious.

“My lady,” he greeted as he finally broke the air of silence between you, his arms placed behind him in a very calculated manner. “Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” he asked then, a brow perked. His accent wasn’t American– that you knew for certain– likely something European.

“As much as I can, sir,” you responded coolly, despite being caught slightly off guard by his sudden and overwhelming presence– a dark cloud in a perfectly tailored suit. “I hope that the…” you cleared your throat, trying to sound a little more confident than you likely were. “The… event is to your liking.” you mustered a smile, diverting your gaze to your champagne, hoping there may be the secrets to being a good conversationalist somewhere within the bubbles.

He chuckled, the sound low and husky. It caused a shiver to go up your spine. “The event is well and fine, my lady. Are you… the proprietor of the gala tonight? I wouldn’t expect a beautiful thing such as yourself to plan something like this.”

You glanced up at him beneath fettered lashes. He was complimenting you and insulting the party at the same time. “No– I am not. I’d never choose such… dreary musicians for an event like this. They’re playing for a wake rather than a party– that would be my father’s doing.” you slipped it into the conversation, that this was your father’s party, trying to gauge if this handsome stranger was after what all of the others were.

Surprisingly, his expression, smooth and cool with the barest hint of a smile perking at his naturally upturned lips, didn’t change. “Dreary,” he repeated, “Melancholic, gloomy, monotonous, vapid– all good words to describe the state of affairs.”

“You have quite the expansive vocabulary, Mister…” your voice trailed off, an inadvertent way to ask for his name.

“Targaryen– Aemond Targaryen. And you?” he reached his hand out to shake yours – how incredibly formal– as you returned your own name with a wide-eyed stare.

“Targaryen. As in… the ancient bloodline? Descended from dragons, close to royalty, Dragonstone estate Targaryen?” you asked, mouth slightly agape. From what you knew of them, they were as close to the height of English royalty, real royalty, as there was in the current year, 1902. Their wealth alone, minus all of the titles, made your father’s look like a pissant trust fund.

“The very same. You’re familiar with my family?”

“Ehm– familiar, more so I’ve heard of you all. Your family’s name comes up quite often in my father’s social circles. And I am quite nosy.”

“And what do you think?”

“About… your family? Mr. Targaryen–”

“Call me Aemond.”

“Aemond– I don’t really know much besides the height of your prestige– and your family’s estate, Dragonstone. My father brought me back some photographs of it from his trips over the pond. It’s quite beautiful.”

“Your father brought you pictures of our home?”

“N-not just yours! I collect photographs of old estates, mostly ones from Europe. I like to use them for inspiration for my… stories. I’m a writer– a novice, mostly.”

“A writer? Have you published anything I might know?”

“Oh, God no–” you laughed, covering your face slightly with your hand. “I’ve not yet been published. I actually sent my manuscript to… or will be sending one to a publisher soon. Hopefully.”

“What do you like to write?” he asked then, leaning a bit closer to you as if he was actually enjoying conversing with you. “Romance? Children’s fables?” he teased softly, his one eye gleaming. He was quite handsome, you thought.

“I like horror– mysteries, gothic fiction. I’m quite enamored with the… macabre and weird,” you admit. “I hope that doesn’t frighten you.”

Aemond grinned, his teeth shining, canines pronounced against his thin lips. “Oh, yes, it does frighten me. But, all good horror stories should frighten their readers, yes? I expect you’re a fan of Vampyre? Perhaps Dracula?”

“Both are good. My favorite, however, is Frankenstein. Mary Shelley is a genius. The Castle of Otranto is also wonderful and the pioneer of the genre. I remember trying to read it when I was younger and being scared of the dark hallways at night. Later on in life, those dark hallways enthused me enough to write about them– hence my… fascination with old houses.”

“Old homes certainly do have their fair share of secrets, don’t they?” he paused, straightening his lapel slightly before leaning back in towards you. “And do you believe what they say? That Mary’s husband wrote it and published it under her name?”

Your brows knit together in slight irritation. “Of course not. Why would he need to do such a thing? I hope you don’t mind me saying, but men already have enough advantages as is– publishing under a woman’s name instead might be considered a disadvantage.”

“Will you be publishing under your own name?”

You blinked, taking a sip from your champagne. It was something you considered and went back and forth upon. “I haven’t decided. I have a pseudonym ready just in case.”

“Do tell– so I know what name to look for on the shelves within a year.”

God, was he ever charming– and without even trying, really. He was well-spoken with a voice that was soft and almost whispery. It made butterflies bubble in the pit of your stomach– now that was a feeling you weren’t familiar with. “Dorian Gray.”

“Cheeky woman.” he mused. “Fancy a dance, Miss Gray?”

“... I suppose I could be swayed.”

–

Your dance together, to say the least, was a success– it started month’s worth of courting after. Aemond took you on the most splendid nights out, wining and dining you like you were a gorgeous, interesting debutante. It was exhilarating to say the least and made you feel… truly wanted– especially since his family was exceedingly wealthy, your father’s wealth couldn’t have attracted him.

He took you to the theater, out to wondrous restaurants, and bought you various gifts like jewelry, writing supplies and outfits to wear when you went out.

It all felt very much like a dream to you– something beyond your usual, weary routine that had hardly ever changed since your mother died when you were eight years old. You’d recused into yourself then, the dark hallways that scared you so fiercely just before her death now seemed welcoming. You thrived in the dark, like a moth.

But now, you felt something more akin to a butterfly, bathing in the sun’s light.

It wasn’t a great surprise when Aemond asked your father for his blessing to marry you. Your father, who had harped you for years to get married, was suddenly apprehensive.

He pulled you aside, arm around you. “Do you like this boy, dear?”

“Y-yes, father– very much so.”

“I’ll be honest, sweetheart. I’m not exactly keen on letting my only daughter go off with… some man–”

“He isn’t just some man, father! He’s a Targ–”

“Don’t interrupt,” he chastised firmly. “I’ve had my people look into his family further– it’s a whole mess, issues with succession, backstabbing, incest, the whole nine yards,” he took a measured breath. “But I’ve heard nothing but good things about… Aemond. But… you’d be so far away. You’d be off living in the annals of England, a whole boat’s ride away.”

“This is what you wanted, father! For me to marry, for me to be happy! This is the happiest I’ve been in… so long. You must see that?”

The creases in your father’s forehead relaxed as he regarded you for a long moment, before turning to Aemond, who was waiting patiently off to the side. He let go of your shoulder and walked to your beau, staring at him sternly. “Will you treat her right? Give her everything she deserves and more?”

Aemond perked up slightly, rubbing the side of his forefinger with his thumb in a seemingly nervous gesture. “Of course, sir. I’ll give her everything I have and more. She will be regarded as a Lady– the Lady Targaryen of Dragonstone Hall, and she wouldn’t be treated with any less respect than a Lady deserves.”

Your father’s gaze narrowed, taking it all into careful thought. “... very well. You have my blessing, son. But, one whiff of even a tear from her eye on your account, and your nads are forfeit. I may not be as well-off as your family, but I’ve got a lot of friends in a lot of places.”

–

The marriage was a quick affair, as your father, and now Aemond, knew you had no patience for pomp and frills. Aemond gave you a beautiful ring with an absolutely gigantic sapphire inlaid in the center, citing it as a family heirloom from centuries past. Your father saw you off onto the boat, bawling his eyes out. You’d never seen your father cry– not once.

As husband and wife, you both agreed to wait to celebrate your wedding night until you arrived in England at his family’s estate to your marital bed.

The trip overall was a little under a week’s time upon a luxurious liner, where you both enjoyed champagne and each other’s company. You craved your husband, and he craved you in the same, but you each wished to keep your agreement intact. But it was increasingly hard, as you held one another close each night and his need for you was clearly pressed to your lower back.

Dragonstone Hall was a few hours' carriage ride north of the port and was nestled upon a high-ridged cliff. It was as gorgeous as the pictures had depicted, even moreso. It was ancient, imposing against the skyline and mingling to the clouds, where sea birds and ravens alike swirled above the towering watch towers that were supported by stone walls with vines grasping to them like lifelines.

It was gorgeous, gothic and most definitely haunted– a perfect place for a woman of horror such as yourself.

Aemond helped you out of the carriage, a hand placed upon your waist as he guided you beyond the gates. Your eyes were wide with wonder, taking in the scenery like a breath of fresh air. Tears threatened to spill over suddenly, as you were just overwhelmed with everything going on. You were married to someone you loved, who loved you– and were the Lady Targaryen of Dragonstone Hall.

“Something wrong, my love?” Aemond whispered into your ear, his lips tickling your lobe.

“N-no– I’m just… very happy.”

He wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb, clearing your vision. You glanced up at one of the windows on the third story of the castle. Someone was staring back at you.

A lady. Her hair was red, her skin almost translucent.

You must’ve been imagining it, surely. Looking to another window, another visage appeared.

Another– this time with dirty blonde hair, her blue eyes ghastly and bloodshot. She was practically see through.

You pressed closer to Aemond, blinking profusely– it must’ve been the exhaustion from the nights on the boat catching up to you. Once you rubbed your eyes, you looked back; the figures were gone.

As you approached the main door of the estate, another face caught your eye.

Another woman– with dark hair and sullen, emerald eyes. They pierced through you like two heavy jewels, making goosebumps prickle atop your arms. She wasn’t ghastly or undeathly like the other two, and when you rubbed your eyes, she was still there.

She was still there, very much a living person in the flesh, with flowing blood and a beating heart. And she was beautiful.

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #my writing #beware the sapphire peak #alysmond #alys rivers #alys rivers x aemond #alys rivers x reader #alys rivers x reader x aemond targaryen

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tj-dragonblade · 3 months

Note

Academic Conference au? 👀

Ah, Academic Conference AU my beloved. It's actual title is An Examination of the Benefits of Inter-Departmental Fraternization (by Hob Gadling, PhD) but that's kind of a mouthful so the old label still sticks. I have mentioned this one a lot in various places; it started from the smut prompts 'bed sharing' and '"Then do it already"' and has spawned multiple chapters with a thin semblance of plot by this point. The first chapter is fully drafted but needs a little revision to accommodate details I decided on later. Second chapter is maybe half to two-thirds drafted, and there are outline-y notes and small chunks of chapters three and four. None of it will be posted until the whole thing is done, because I will not finish it otherwise. And also those evolving details I mentioned.

There have been bits and pieces of this scattered in several places over the months I've poked at it and I kind of lose track of what's been shared where BUT. Here is the opening section of the fic, which I don't think has been shared before - at least not in its entirety:

~ "He can share with me."

The grateful look on the poor harried hotel clerk's face is gratifying, but Hob didn't speak up just for her.

Dr. Dream Murphy arches an eyebrow over the chunky black rim of his glasses at Hob, mildly suprised. "Dr. Gadling," he greets, considerably less agitated than just a second before.

"If you're amenable, of course," Hob adds, speaking directly to his colleague now. "It's a single, so we'd still need a rollaway bed—if there's one available?" He glances to the clerk.

"There is," she confirms, fingers flying over her keyboard.

"Perfect. Well?" He turns to Dr. Murphy. "Better than trying to find a room elsewhere? I'll even take the rollaway; you can have the room bed."

Dr. Murphy inclines his head like some kind of old-school royalty. "Very well."

"Brilliant." Hob flashes a smile, directs it back to the clerk. "I'm in 607, Robert Gadling. You can merge his reservation with mine and get him a key, and just send up the extra bed—thanks!"

"Of course." She finishes entering the changes, programs a key card, hands it to Dr. Murphy. "Here you go sir, and again, I'm so sorry for the mix-up—"

"No matter. Thank you," he says, already turning away, and Hob flashes the poor girl one last grateful smile and hurries to follow.

Dr. Murphy says nothing until they are closed in the elevator together, and then he fixes Hob with the crystal blue eyes that have wandered in and out of Hob's daydreams all year. "I. Appreciate your intercession on my behalf, Dr. Gadling."

"Think nothing of it," Hob demurs, shrugging. He catches himself fiddling with his earlobe and drops his hand. "Not like it's her fault they overbooked and gave your room to someone else. Not your fault either. Glad to be passing by with a solution. But." He straightens up, flashes his most winning smile. "If we're going to be rooming together for the whole of this conference, please—call me Hob."

Dr. Murphy does that regal head-incline thing again; his gaze, when it lifts to Hob's, is considering. "Hob," he repeats, like tasting it, and the familiarity stirs a wispy tendril of warmth in Hob’s gut. "Then you must call me Dream."

WIP List

#askmemes #thank you anon!#TJs Writing #Sandman #Dreamling #wip: academic AU

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tsukkismoonlight · 4 months

Text

When It Comes To You || J.K × Reader

Summary: You've somehow gotten stuck with the most obnoxious (Minus boy genius Armin Arlert) group ever for a college class project. Eren Jeager, and Jean Kirstein. The latter of which seems to find a way to weasel his way into your life, making your plans for a quiet college experience fall away.

Author's Note: okay, like a year and some odd change in months later i'm finally posting this fic!! Honestly life kinda got in the way but we all know how it is. Anywayyyys, I hope yall enjoy! This is my first longer fic, so let me know what you guys think! Also super big shoutout to my buddies on discord for beta reading the first portion of this! <3 wk: 16.7k

Warnings: unedited, probably ooc characteristics who knows

"Would you two knock it off?" were your first words since the two bone-headed, annoying, loud-mouthed boys had started arguing.

Here you were, in an empty classroom, supposed to be working on a group project for at least an hour or two, and the /only/ thing that your group had done was bicker back and forth.

The first of the two boneheads, Eren Jeager, had spent the whole time insisting on his ideas, and his ideas alone, while the other, Jean Kirstein, had only been arguing that the former's ideas were stupid and that 'if anything, Eren should shut his trap and just do the grunt work.'

The blonde, Armin Arlert, was clearly just as done with them, but took a more quiet approach to trying to stop them. Any time he could interject, he tried to reason with the two, but of course neither would listen.

So, when you stood up, slamming your palms onto the table and shouting at them, all three of them quickly grew quiet. "We only have so much time to work on this project, and I am /not/ going to fail this project because you two idiots can't let go of your egos for more than two seconds!"

"Well, maybe if this asshole would-" Eren started, mostly keeping his voice at a low grumble, sounding like a scolded child.

Jean, cutting Eren's words short while crossing his arms across his chest, "Oh yeah, /I'm/ the asshole here…"

But with another of your glares sent to both of them, the two stopped once more.

"Maybe we should split up the work?" Armin was already writing out two plans, where you could make out his name and Eren, meaning that you were stuck with Jean.

Not that you wanted to be with either of them. You'd rather take Armin and just leave the other two to fail. But, as this was a group project, Professor Hange had made it clear that points were to be docked for any group that did not complete the assignment together.

You plopped back into your seat, sighing heavily. "Okay, we will work in two groups. Looks like Eren, you're going with Armin, and Jean, you're with me." You paused as Armin slid over the paper he had drafted up.

Glancing over it, you could see that he had given you and Jean a good amount of work, yet he had still given himself more. Part of you wanted to point it out, maybe even offer to take some of the load, but the other part of you knew that Armin would refuse and somehow make it sound like the nicest thing he'd ever do.

"Okay, so, from there, once all the research is done, Armin and I will meet up in person to work on the presentation bits, which means that Eren and Jean, you will only need to put your findings in a document for us. That should be easy enough."

When no one objected, you started to pack up your things.You waited for Jean to take a picture of the draft before tucking it away in a folder carefully.

Around you, the others started to do the same. With a small breath of relief, you finished packing up and slung your bag over your shoulders, looking to each of your groupmates slowly. "If anyone has questions,” you announced, “please text me. I gave Armin my number already, but if you need mine, ask now."

Eren slid his phone across the table to you, a sour look on his face, as he was clearly upset with the whole situation, and the fact that he had been yelled at over it. You ignored his attitude and typed in your number before returning the phone to him.

Next was Jean, who looked at you for a few moments, then handed his phone over to you, where you repeated the process of saving your number for him.

With that done you set off to your dorm.You didn't live alone, but it was bound to be a wonderful change in pace (and in volume levels). When you arrived, you slipped your shoes off and headed for your room, pausing for a second as you saw one of your roommate and probably your closest friend Sasha Braus. Currently she was sitting on the floor of her room, clutching a bowl of soup…or what was probably a bowl of soup, as it was empty now.

"Oh, hey! You're back already?" she asked, turning to you with a spoon dangling from her mouth. It caused a slight slur in her words, so it came out more like, "Ohhh, heyyy, yer bick alreaty?"

With a sigh, you walked into her room, dropping your bag by the door before flopping onto her bed (which was incredibly comfortable). "Yeah, I called it quits early because I got paired with Armin, Jean, and Eren, and Armin is fine and all, but your stupid friend and Eren can't go more than five seconds without fighting."

You could hear a soft clink as Sasha put her spoon down. "Well, it always works for me to hit them."

"I can't hit my group mates…even if I want to," you grumbled, rolling over onto your side so you could see her.

"I can hit them for you then, just tell me when and where." She flexed her arms, raising her eyebrows up and down at you as she did so.

This caused a breathy laugh to come from you. You could feel yourself starting to relax. Your two roommates were probably the only reason that you had stayed sane so far.

Sasha was always good at getting you to smile, at times she wouldn't stop until you showed some sign of positivity. And of course you were more than grateful for it.

When you had first moved to the dorms, you had kept to yourself, unsure if you really liked her at all. But with time, you warmed up to her easily.

There had been a handful of nights where she would invite you to stay up and just talk, or watch some movie. And, at times, she would share food with you, which you learned wasn't always her favorite thing to do.

"Hey, one of these days we need to catch up on Food wars."

You looked back to her, nodding along, "Oh for sure! Maybe sometime this next week I can stay up with you and we can watch it. Maybe buy some junk food too."

At the prospect of snacks, she perked up even more. "Can we get-"

"Yes, we can get the baked potato flavored chips."

"You didn't even let me finish!" Sasha pouted a little, though still unable to hide her excitement at the confirmation of her favorite snack.

You reached down and flicked her forehead lightly, "Well I already knew what you were going to say. It wasn't hard to figure out."

"Hey! I could have asked for something different! Like, salt and vinegar ones!"

"You don't even like those, and neither do I. We wouldn't ever buy any."

The two of you talked for another five or so minutes until she had to leave, shouting something about Connie Springer owing her dinner. You took the time to go back into your own room which you actually shared with a third roommate ( neither of you wanted to share a room with Sasha because of her snoring). However, he wasn't home yet, which meant that he'd probably be back late.

You pulled your laptop out of your bag and plugged it in; then you went to grab your notebooks, some pens and pencils, and finally your copy of the book for your project. It was best to get a headstart on the project, as it was worth most of your grade.

Professor Hange had assigned the class to read and analyze an old book written by a nameless author. The idea and plot was interesting to a point. It was a war between mere humans, and a race of humans that could take control of what they called titans. The main two parties at war were named Marley and Eldia, both of which claimed that the other was in the wrong, and had vowed to take revenge, wanting to eradicate the other's existence. Towards the end, there was something of a compromise, and Marley seemed to come out victorious. All in all, there was a lot more to it, and the details were typically gorey and morally wrong. The ending wasn't ever written, leaving all readers to question what they knew and what they may not have been told.

This is where your project came in: you were to try and look into the book, outside sources, even artwork, whatever the class could get their hands on, and work on an analysis. Hange hadn't given many guidelines; they wanted to leave it open and see what the class would come up with. Your group hadn't made a decision yet, but so far, Eren was dead set on writing an analysis on who he thought was right and freedom and some other crap, while Jean only had talked about how Eren was wrong.

Luckily enough, Armin had already written up a potential analysis summary, one that focused on how the two sides were similar and what they shared in common with the rest of humanity, and how trying to pick a side would only allow their bloody history to repeat again. His was rather long winded, but it allowed for you to pick and choose the best parts, and what you guys wouldn't really need.

You spent some time searching the internet for more sources, coming across a few articles on what could be a deeper meaning to the story, and a few on what could have been the rest of the world's view on both Marley and Eldia.

That was when you came across a page for the local museum; it seemed that there was going to be an exhibit about the book, featuring many different artists and even some written works. Taking a moment to write down the dates and price for tickets in your phone’s note app. You then sent a quick text to Armin about it, letting him know that if he wanted, you could go and check it out with Jean.

Clicking your phone off, you gave a heavy sigh and stood up, pulling your arms above your head in a stretch before continuing to work on the project. You knew that you should probably eat something, and drink some water, as you hadn’t really been able to do so in the last few hours. But with the project being so important, you decided against getting back up. If you got up now, chances were that you’d end up wasting some time doing who knows what. You really needed to just focus on your work, food, water and relaxing could come later. This was typical for you, what was one more time anyways?

Quietly, your afternoon quickly turned to night, and you wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for both of your roommates crashing into your room.

You turned around, eyeballing Sasha and your third roommate, Marco Bodt, unsure if you really wanted to ask questions.

"She was drinking with Connie at his place,"

"Huh? Noo I waz'nt ! Conn and I were jus playin a game an' then…and then..mmkay maybe I was drinking, but!" Sasha rambles on for a minute, still leaning heavily on Marco, who just gave a half hearted and weary smile.

You shook your head, and stood up, making your way over to Sasha taking her off Marco's hands "Was Connie like this too?" you asked.

"Yeah, he and Jean both…" Marco sighed, following you as you took Sasha to her room. While you carefully put her in her bed, Marco pulled her shoes off for her.

At his words, you paused for just a moment then you continued to fish Sasha's phone from her pocket, placing it on the charger for her.

"Of course, Jean was drinking, too." you remarked. You tried your best to ignore the irritation rising in you. It wasn't like you guys had to get the whole project done right away, or that Jean couldn't enjoy a drink with his friends. But, it wouldn't surprise you if only Armin and yourself had been the only two to even start.

As the two of you left Sasha to sleep, Marco motioned to the kitchen, saying, "Hungry?" You gave a small nod in response.

Once in the small kitchen area, you hopped onto the counter while your roommate got to work on making something simple. From the looks of it, he was just making mac and cheese, but you couldn't really care less. You hadn't noticed it earlier, but you were actually starving.

A quiet buzz from your pocket pulled your attention from Marco cooking, and you pulled your phone out, seeing a few messages from an unsaved number.

"Heyy, it's me"

"Jean"

"just figured i'd text you since we have be partners"

"Not complaining cause i dont wanna be stuck with eren"

You shook your head at your phone, typing a quick reply back, “Wow really? I couldn’t tell.”

Another buzz, another incoming message, “I really hate that guy. He’s stuck up, and always thinks he’s right”

“You know, I feel like there’s someone else like that too.” You sucked in a deep breath, already feeling a tinge of annoyance creeping its way into your body. Sure, Jean was bound to be the better of the two, but that didn’t mean that you wanted him texting you about his testosterone fueled hatred for Eren.

A few moments pass before he texts you again, the words a little hard to make out at first, “you better not be implying that im like him”

“I would never do that. You are an okay person in my eyes”

“Just okay? I’m fuckin’ great!”

“Yeahh, sure. I agree with you, 100%”

You could almost feel his skeptical gaze through your phone as he sent yet another message, “I dont know if I believe that.”

“I dont care if you believe it or not tbh”

“I cant tell if you like me or not”

At this, you paused. You didn’t really know the guy outside of what you were told by Marco and Sasha. And he definitely did not know you. If he did, he wouldn’t be bothering you right now. But as much as that all was true, you also didn’t want to outright say that you didn’t like him, at least not over text while he was suspiciously hitting you up out of the blue.

“im not sure if like is the right word. Right now I tolerate you.”

“Thats a good thing right?”

You didn’t answer, figuring that he would eventually get the hint. But, within minutes, he was texting you yet again. You watched as more messages popped up one by one, all of which just as hard to read as the others. Though you eventually figured them out. He was promising to do his share of the project, as well as promising to keep on schedule with it. The last thing he sent was asking to meet up tomorrow, and figure out what you wanted him to do, and something about how he couldn't really understand the guideline sheet.

You sent a quick reply, just a place and a time, before returning your phone to your pocket, and just in time, Marco had a bowl of delicious mac and cheese for you.

"Thanks man, you're the best."

"Hey, you cooked last night," he said, shrugging, "and somehow it was pretty impressive, given the fact that we're all super broke and have next to nothing in our cupboards,"

You let out a small laugh at that. "I am a person of many talents."

"Do tell your secrets, as I am eager to know," Marco says in-between bites, playing into the bit.

"Oh, I couldn't, because then you would have to learn my /tragic/ backstory of how I had to fend for myself as a child." You dramatically sigh, placing a hand to your forehead, and then paused, peeking out at Marco before saying, "That part is actually true. At my house, we often had 'Fend for Yourself Nights' where you kinda just threw stuff together it could be leftovers, cereal or, like, dry ramen."

Marco chuckles, pointing his fork at you and saying "So that must be the secret then!"

The kitchen rendezvous went on for a while longer before you both headed off to bed, agreeing that Sasha can do the dishes when she wakes up.

The next day, you had managed to drag yourself out of bed and find your way to the coffee shop where you were supposed to be meeting up with Jean.

Key word is 'supposed' to be, since it had been 30 minutes since you had gotten there. Hopefully, you didn't look like some poor soul that had gotten stood up on a date and more like someone enjoying their Saturday morning.

Another ten minutes passed, and no word from Jean, you had finished your coffee, and had already finished working on pulling out key information from a few of the web sources that you found the night before.

You glanced at the time again and cursed under your breath. You had better things to be doing. So, you quickly pack up your things and toss out the trash before leaving.

Just as you returned to the little table to grab your bag, the bell at the door chimed, drawing your attention.

There stood Jean Kirstein himself, out of breath, hair hastily brushed out of his face, and clothes a whole mess…you were pretty sure he had worn them yesterday too.

However, his sudden entrance had also gathered stares from everyone in the shop;most people looked on with a frown, questioning why he had just thrown open the door like that, just to stand there looking like a lost puppy.

You groaned, marching towards him and then grabbing his wrist and dragging him out of the way.

"Seriously? You show up almost an hour late, and make a big scene?!" you say, continuing to pull him down the sidewalk.

"I know, I know!" He took in a sharp breath, stumbling as he went.

"I mean seriously?! What's your deal?"

"I didn't mean to be late! And can you stop shouting? My head is killing me…"

You came to an abrupt stop and turned around to face him. "It doesn't matter if you didn't mean to be late, you were still late! I mean, come on, I sat there and looked completely stupid while I waited!"

At your words, he tugged his arm free from your grasp, and hesitated for a moment before, saying, "Okay, I'm sorry. I should have been here on time."

"Or at least texted me to tell me!" You sighed, bringing a hand up to your temple. "Whatever, let's just find somewhere else to sit and I can show you what your part of the project is."

With those words, the two of you walked in silence until you were back at campus, arriving at one of the rooms designated for studying. It didn't take long to run through Jean's responsibilities, and for you both to settle into a somewhat uncomfortable quiet and begin to work.

Currently, you were taking the information gathered earlier and writing them into evidence for your thesis while Jean was searching for art pieces to analyze.

Every fifteen to twenty minutes or so, you'd check in with eachother and help if needed-and Jean needed more help than you did, really.

And maybe if he hadn’t spammed you with drunk texts the night before, and then came late to your meeting, it wouldnt have bothered you as much. So when he did ask for your help, you were being short and to the point. Luckily for you, helping him was easy. It consisted of choosing between artwork, and identifying key themes or details that stood out, and then giving him ways to write it down so that it made sense with the overall idea behind your project. Now and then, you'd have him read over what you wrote, just to see what all he thought and if he had any suggestions.

Finally, after a few hours, Jean leaned back in his chair and sighed loudly. "Okay, I think we've got a lot done. Why don't we break for the day?" he suggested.

At his words, you hesitated. While a break did sound nice, you'd much rather keep working. If you got ahead, there'd be time for breaks later, or time for helping Armin and the others.

"You go on ahead, I'm going to stay a little longer. Thanks for showing up today." You gave a small smile before looking back down to your laptop, trying to spot where you left off.

For a moment or so, Jean packed up his things, not necessarily quietly, but enough for it not to bother you. Though, after he finished doing so, he didn't leave. Instead, he stood /annoyingly/ close to you, seemingly trying to burn holes into the back of your head.

"Is there something you need or…?"

"You're seriously going to stay and work more?"

"...Yeah?"

Jean let out a small series of 'tsk' noises and began to close your notebooks and the few textbooks you had brought. You stuttered out half of a sentence, none of it making any sense, as you watched him stack up your things, his finishing move to carefully close your laptop without even shutting it off.

"What are you…Why…I mean-what?"

"I think you work too hard." he remarked, grinning. Normally that would sound snarky coming from him, this time he sounded gentle, and nothing in his face seemed to show any ill will. "I mean, I've never seen you do anything fun. All you do is push yourself to do work."

You were at a loss for words, face heating up with embarrassment. Just because he had never seen you do fun things didn't mean that you were some sort of shut in who only ever focused on homework and studying.

Jean waited for you to pack your things, all of which you did while in a small haze, trying to comprehend it all. When you were done, he motioned for you to follow him, not saying a word of what he had planned.

The two of you walked outside, Jean slightly ahead of you as he continued to lead the way. Occasionally, someone would stop Jean, asking him about a party or a class. He seemed to have a lot of friends, or rather just a lot of acquaintances.

Eventually, you both came to a little grassy field, one where students often came to waste time, or play games like spikeball, or frisbee. Currently, it wasn't very busy, and the two of you found a spot to sit and relax under a warm spring sky.

For the first five minutes, you sat in silence, an almost comfortable one. You found yourself mumbling about how this wasn't so bad, noticing from the corner of your eye as Jean turned to look at you.

"Would I ever lead you astray?" Jean elbowed you carefully, earning a scowl from you.

"Given that we don't really know each other, I'm not sure," you retorted.

"I know that we've had at least three classes together since freshman year, and that you don't seem to like anyone," he pointed out.

"Not true,” you said. “Sasha and Marco are very nice people who I like a lot,"

At this he barked out a laugh, a wonderful sound really, compared to his typical evil sounding snicker. "Okay, so you appreciate the presence of three specific people."

"Three? I only named two people," you said, holding up two fingers to signify your only two friends.

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but right now you don't seem to hate me, so I counted myself."

You gave another scowl."If we were able to pick our own groups, I would have picked other people, just for the record"

"Ouch, that kind of stings."

You couldn't tell if he was serious or not, but one thing you did know was that he probably wouldn't have picked you either. Not that it really bothered you. While it was true that you've shared classes in the two years that you've been in college, the two of you never really talked.

Sure, you've had the quick conversations in the hall, or maybe accidentally bumped into each other when trying to take Sasha home, or even just when Jean would hang out with Marco at your dorm.

It wasn't that you didn't like him (aside from his huge ego and inability to get along with certain people) or even that you didn't like people in general. You honestly just wanted to focus on school, so that you would graduate on time, and get the hell out of this town. Personal relationships could come later, and you were completely content with that. Being alone wasn't something that bothered you. Or, something that you /let/ bother you.

You leaned back until you were laying down in the grass, staring up at the cloudy sky. The more you thought about it, the more your head seemed to churn with an anxious and maybe even guilty conscience.

"By the way, I'd say that, even though we didn't get to pick our own groups, I don't mind being paired with you." You sighed, keeping your eyes trained on the sky as Jean laid down next to you.

From there, the conversation switched to a few different topics, one of them being a small argument over the particular shape of a cloud and what you thought it was.

Eventually, the clouds dissipated, and the sky faded from its blue to a dusty orange lined with a pale pink-ish-purple.

"I guess it's time to go home for the night," Jean said.

"Mhm, guess so," you quietly said, but made no effort to sit up yet.

Next to you, Jean stood, brushing off his clothes and running a hand through his hair, attempting to make sure there wasn't any grass on his person. Then, when it was apparent that you still hadn't even moved, he nudged you with his shoe. "You coming or what?"

"I’m waiting,"

"For what?"

"The first star I see"

Jean slowly looked away from you and to the sky, "Can I ask why?"

"No."

It wasn't really a big deal, but this was your favorite time of the day, and you had the habit of looking for the first star you could find and making a small wish on it. It had been something you'd done ever since you were a kid; old habits die hard. But it wasn't something you just went and told people about, especially not someone like Jean. You were sure that he'd poke fun at you for it.

His voice pulled you away from your thoughts, and you watched as he pointed just above your heads. "I think there's one over there."

From your perspective, he was lined up to where the star was atop his finger.The sight made you smile softly; you didn’t notice that he had glanced back down, watching the small moment.

"Okay, now we can go." You sat up slowly and climbed to your feet, grabbing your bag from where it had been by your feet.

The two of you parted ways for the night, and you found yourself back at your dorm, which was uncharacteristically empty and quiet. Either Sasha would come home drunk again (or with her hands full of food that she got from Connie or that Niccolo guy) or that she would stay out for the night. Marco on the other hand, was probably visiting some other friends for the short weekend, so most likely, you had the place to yourself until the following evening.

With the freedom at hand, you took some time to make dinner and lounged around the shared living space, until eventually, your eyelids grew heavy, and you forced yourself into your bed for the night.

The sound of knocking at your door woke you up. At first, you had half a mind to ignore it, but with your roommates, and the friends they had, the knocking wouldn't stop. You glanced at the clock, seeing that it was around noon, a time that you hardly ever slept in till.

"Yeah, okay, I'm up. Who is it?" you grumbled at the door, noting that if it was Marco, he wouldn't necessarily need to knock, meaning that it must be Sasha.

And it was. At your words, she swung the door open lazily, and leaned around the corner, "Heyyy, I was wondering if you had plans today? Connie, Jean, and I were going to play some volleyball! Wanna come? Marco is gonna join us later!"

You took a moment to think it over. It was Sunday, so you didn't have classes, and depending on how long you were out, you could always do more homework later. Not to mention, Jean's comment about how you worked too much was still fresh in your mind.

"...Yeah, okay, I'll come play. Give me a few minutes and I'll get dressed."

She gave you a huge grin, shouting over her shoulder, "They said they'd come! You guys still have the net?"

You watched as she disappeared back into the main area of the dorm, and then shut your door to change. When you exited, you could see the three of them waiting by the door, Jean holding the net, while Connie was tossing the ball between his hands.

The walk was fairly short, as Jean had suggested the field that the two of you had been at the other day, and just like the day before, there weren't very many people out. You guys could set up a spot without having to worry about anyone else.

At least, that's how it was at first. The game went smoothly. Surprisingly, all three of them were pretty good at the sport; though, if you had to rank them, it would be Sasha, then Jean (mostly because he can use his height to his advantage), and then Connie.

For the first game you played, it was you and Sasha versus Jean and Connie. Then, it switched to you and Connie, and finally, you and Jean.

No one was really counting points; no one could keep track, though each side was sure that they were winning, even if they weren't. It was about halfway through the current match, right as you were about to serve, when something came crashing into your head.

It had hit you pretty hard, and it took you a moment to even realize what had happened and what was currently happening.

"Hey, man, watch where you throw this thing! You nearly took my partner out!" Jean was holding a football and pointing it aggressively at another college student, who you think was named Floch or something close to it.

The guy snatched the ball from Jean, giving him the dirtiest look. "Well, maybe you guys shouldn't be playing so close to where we are."

At this, Connie and Sasha stepped up. Connie took to Jean's side, starting to bicker with the guy, while Sasha checked your head, fussing over you.

"Just say sorry to our friend already. You can at least agree that you hit them!" You weren't sure who said that, as all the voices blended together until that moment. Suddenly all eyes were on you.

More specifically, Floch's eyes. He regarded you warily, annoyance clear in his eyes and voice. "Your dumbass friend looks fine to me,” he sneered. “And besides, we tried to warn them, and they didn't move. It's their own fault. Don't go blaming me for your friend being an idiot."

You weren't sure what came over you; maybe it was anger from the childish name calling, or maybe it was the stress of the week getting to you, but within an instant, you had crossed the few feet to get to him, and threw a punch.

You watched as he stumbled back, nearly running into one of his nameless friends, as he clutched at his face. He was clearly seeing red.

"How dare you!" he shouted out. He started to make his way over to you, obscenities of all sorts falling from his mouth.

None of which you really heard, because at that exact moment, Sasha and Connie both shouted the same thing, 'Run,' and took off.

And, before you knew it, Jean grabbed your hand, pulling you along as he chased after the two, until you four were sure that Floch and his extras weren't going to follow you.

When you finally stopped, everyone was bent over, stuck in between laughing and gasping for air.

"Holy shit! That was insane!" Sasha wheezed out, and straightened out, turning to the group with a large smile on her face.

Connie spoke next, hands still on his knees. "I can't believe we ran away."

All at once, realization hit you: you had just clocked a guy, and then ran away, without even thinking twice. Never in your life had you done something like that. You weren't super confrontational, and you certainly would rather avoid physical altercations. But, at that moment, you had just done it. And, the crazy thing about it was how amusing you found it. Because even though you were struggling to breathe, you were laughing. The kind of laugh where you couldn't stop, and your eyes would start to tear up.

From where he was standing at your side, Jean watched for a moment, a certain fluttering in his chest (though he could pass it off as his own endeavors with taking in air). You, for the first time that he had seen, were so laid back about the fact that you had hit someone. And the way that you were now chuckling to yourself, clearly in a sort of disbelief mixed with content.

Jean drew your attention, "Is it bad that I kind of liked seeing you hit him?" Then he paused, as if he had rethought his choice of words. "I mean, in the sense that Floch is a stuck up, entitled bastard, and that he had it coming."

You gave a little huff, and shrugged. "Well, I'm sure anyone would pay to see that…I honestly didn't know that I was going to hit him…until right after."

"Well, that was amazing! That guy's been a tyrant since the beginning of the year! He even tries to get in with Eren's group, as if he was even worth being someone to talk to." Connie clapped a hand on your back, his adrenaline still running through him.

"And I thought that Jean was the one to start fights," Sasha teased.

"Sasha! I don't start fights!"

Around you, the three continued to talk while you watched, enjoying the sight.

It was rather nice, for once. You weren't holed up in your dorm room while everyone else had fun, even if the fun was getting into a fight of sorts—which, as you thought back on it, the whole thing was kind of funny. It would have easily been solved if those assholes had just apologized, but you were starting to think that this outcome was better.

“Hey, should we go back for our things?” Jean asked, pulling your attention to him.

“Yeah, probably, and if those assholes are still there, I think we know someone who can take them on for us.” Connie sent a lopsided grin your way, a certain mischievous look in his eyes.

You shrugged, acting as innocent as possible. “Oh yeah, you’d be the perfect guy for that, even with the serious height disadvantage.”

Connie’s mouth dropped open, not quite expecting that kind of remark from you. As far as he knew, you were silent, hardworking, and the person who likes to keep to yourself. Even you were a little surprised, but, maybe after today’s events you could try out some new ways to enjoy your life a little more.

Once again, the four of you made your way back to the field, and as you did, you could see a familiar figure standing by your net, looking down at his phone.

“Marco! You made it!” Connie shouted out, drawing your friend’s attention. “You missed all the action; it was insane!”

“Huh? Did I miss out on playing? And where were you guys?”

As you approached, Sasha and Connie exploded into answers for his question.

“You only missed a little of our game-”

“We had to run from Forrester and his braindead lackeys!”

“We’ve got our own Rocky! You should have seen the way they punched him! No hesitation at all!”

Slowly, Marco seemed to piece all of the information together, nodding as he thought it all over. His eyes looked at everyone one by one until he got to you. “You punched someone? The most I've ever seen from you was the time you swore at your computer when it crashed!”

A small and almost shy smile escaped you, “Well, to be fair he started it. I honestly didn’t even think about doing it; my hand moved on it’s own,”

He only shook his head, looking back around the group. “So, are we still playing?”

Jean shook his head. “Maybe we should head back to one of the dorms? Relax or play some games?”

“Oh! I’ve got some fun games!” Sasha chimed in, then paused. “But I’m kind of hungry, so maybe we could make some food, too!”

Once everyone agreed to the plan, the now five of you ended up in the dorm you shared with Marco and Sasha, where Connie, Sasha and Marco focused on setting up some games in the little living room area, and you and Jean were tasked with making some dinner. Of course, it wasn’t exactly easy, given the few options, but eventually, the two of you were able to settle on a college delicacy: instant ramen.

You pulled out a pot to fill with water, while Jean opened a few packs of said ramen. All in all, it was easy to make, and didn’t take terribly long. Before you knew it, you were handing out bowls to the other three while Jean brought over yours and his to where you were now sitting on the floor, some game cards in front of you.

“Okay, listen up, I’m not explaining this twice,” Connie announced. “The game is simple: read a card to yourself and then say someones name who you think matches the card. You flip a coin. If it’s heads, you tell everyone what was on the card and give that person the card. If it’s tails, you keep it to yourself, and the card is yours.” Connie gave everyone a pointed look, and when no questions or objections were raised, the game started.

The first to go is Marco; he took a moment to read his card before immediately calling out Connie’s name. Then when the coin was flipped, it landed on heads, earning a small sigh from Marco.

“It asked who would be the one to need parental supervision no matter what age someone is,” Marco explained.

“What? Why not Sasha?! She gets into more trouble than I do!”

“Hah! Say that to Professor Levi and all the times he has had to tell you to shut up,” Jean remarked “And not to mention you black out at every party you go to. Do you know how many times I have to carry you home while you sing at the top of your lungs?”

Connie grumbled a bit, but didn’t try to deny the claims. Instead, he pulled out a card to read. His turn ended with a flip of tails, making it now your turn.

From the main deck, you pulled your card and read it over silently: ‘Out of everyone in the group, who would you rather make out with?’

You can feel your face heat up, already knowing that you only really have two options, Jean or Marco. And Marco is only really a choice because of how well you know him, but even then, you wouldn’t really want to do that with him. So after a few moments of silence, you call Jean’s name, looking anywhere but at his face.

“That took you some time; must be a good card.” Sasha grinned, reaching for the coin and giving it an impressive flip. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as it landed, and all at once, five heads stuck together to see the outcome.

Heads. The worst possible way for things to go. You could feel all eyes on you now, and you begrudgingly read out the card, once again avoiding looking at Jean entirely.

A chorus of ooo’s and ahh’s filled your ears, and everyone had something to say about your answer.

The only one you even managed to hear was the man himself: “I hope you plan to take me out first, I’m not won over so easily." Of course, he had a cocky smirk on his face, pointed directly at you.

“Whatever, just…whoever is next, take your turn.” You shook your head, busying yourself with eating some of your food that was now starting to get a little cold.

Time seemed to escape you all and the night drew to a close with Connie and Jean taking their leave. Marco took the time to wash the dishes, roping Sasha into helping, and you retired to your room. You took the time to change into some comfier clothes and settle into your bed, though not quite wanting to sleep just yet.

Your mind was still stuck on the first game you played and the card you had picked Jean for. While you wouldn’t argue against the idea of finding Jean attractive, or even the idea of kissing him, you just weren’t sure why you were so trapped in thinking about it. You didn’t even know him all that well, and for the most part, you had thought that he was pretty unbearable.

And yet, the more your thoughts seemed to revolve around him, the more you could feel an uneasy knot forming in your stomach. There was no way that you were going to let yourself get wrapped up in developing feelings for him, or anyone. You were supposed to be focusing on school so that you could get the hell out of this town and make something of yourself.

Not to mention the fact that all of your previous attempts at relationships crashed and burned. The last time that you had gotten close with someone in that way, you ended up with a mixture of being heartbroken and incredibly angry. That was about the time you started keeping to yourself, as if getting to know someone in a more than platonic way would cause your world to shatter again. You couldn’t-no /wouldn’t/ deal with something like that again.

You let out a groan, planting face first into your pillow and trying to shoo away all thoughts related to romance and feelings, and of Jean Kirstein.

“Suffocating yourself?”

You jumped lightly, head snapping up to see Marco in the doorway, leaning against the door frame. His expression was a little hard to read, though he could be like that at times.

“Uh…no, not quite what I’m going for, but if it gets the job done, then sure,” you joked.

He moved across the room to his own bed where he took a seat, facing you. “Then what’s with the face-in-pillow tactic?”

You hesitated, knowing full and well how close Marco was with Jean, closer than he was with you. “Oh, uh, just, school things, homework, assignments, that sort of thing…”

His eyes narrowed slightly, brows furrowing. “Yeah, for once I don’t buy that, but if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t force you to spill the details."

Again, you paused, turning away from Marco and looking towards the door. In truth, it wouldn’t hurt to tell him, since he wouldn’t ever tell a secret that wasn’t his. He was definitely the guy who would just want to talk things out, not wanting things to end badly.

“Okay…Well…that card I got earlier,” you began. “I’m just worried, and I know that it’s just a stupid game, but I cant help but think about it.”

“Worried that Jean took it the wrong way, or worried that you’d actually want to kiss him?”

Marco was somehow always hitting the nail on the head, a talent of his.

“Would saying both make sense?”

He thought for a moment, the room filling with an unnamable silence, until he spoke again. “Well, I’m sure Jean is going to take it in the way he always does: an ego boost for his way too big head.” Another pause. “As for the idea of maybe wanting to kiss him, I wouldn’t say that's an all too terrible idea, besides the fact that it’s Jean. But, if you really aren't sure about how you feel towards him, maybe you could…test it out?"

“Test it out?” you repeated, confused.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Like ask him to hang out or something. You don’t have to necessarily make it like a date, but you could use the time to get to know him more, and figure out if it’s just because everyone made a big deal out of it, or if you might actually be interested in him, or getting to know him.”

You thought for a moment. The idea was pretty simple, and a good one at that, though just thinking about it made your heart rate speed up. It wasn’t like you had never been one on one with Jean, but now, with all of your thoughts being scrambled like eggs, it was slightly overwhelming. But when it came down to it, you wanted to sort it all out. If you could set your mind straight, and get rid of these terrible thoughts about Jean, you could get back on track for school.

“You’re right, I’ll definitely try that.” You let out a small breath of air and turned back to Marco. “Thanks, I’m glad you’re here.”

“What would you do without me? And don’t worry— I won’t say anything to anyone. my lips are sealed” He smiled, hand coming up to his mouth to mime a zipper motion.

“Okay, good. Unless you want to end up like the douche from earlier, I wouldn’t recommend telling a soul.”

He gave a laugh before gathering some of his things to go and take a shower, leaving you alone once more. You eventually drifted off to sleep, and surprisingly, you didn’t wake up once.

The next day, you only had one class, and once that was over, you had gone to the library to study, needing to get work done for a few of your other classes. It was a nice change in pace from the day you had yesterday. It wasn’t super crowded, either, which meant you could focus on your work in peace.

Though, it didn’t last long, as two new faces joined your table. You looked up, almost expecting to see Jean and Connie, or Marco and Sasha, but to your surprise, it was Eren and Armin.

“I hope you don’t mind us joining you!” Armin smiles, though something in his eyes tells you that he didn’t pick your table without a reason.

“Uh, no that’s okay.”

He and Eren settled into two of the chairs, the latter of the two only pulling out his phone. Armin did the exact opposite. He took out two textbooks, a large notebook, and a handful of pens, pencils and markers.

For the first five minutes or so, the three of you sat in silence. You worked on homework for a communications class, while armin was seemingly working on a paper for a psyche class. But when Eren suddenly scoffed at his phone, you stopped what you were doing to look up at him, questioning his action.

He in turn looked at you, maybe even through you. “So, turns out, someone gave Forrester a nasty bruise yesterday. He wont say who, so i’m thinking he got his ass kicked and just doesn’t want to admit it.”

You feigned ignorance, giving Eren a blank stare, “I’m not really sure who that is, but sounds like a tough time for him.”

Eren regarded you for a moment, but it wasn’t his stare that bothered you. You now had Armin’s attention, as if he wanted to ask a question. Or, make a comment on what you said. But instead he said, “Well, I’m not the one to really get into these things, but Floch does like to cause problems for himself, so maybe he deserved it?”

You nodded along, not wanting to give Eren any more information. With him, rumors tended to get out of hand quickly, and you really did not want to be the talk of the school over an altercation with Floch. To everyone in the school, you were pretty much some nobody, and frankly, you weren’t upset at the idea. If it meant less trouble for you, it was going to be something you’d stay okay with.

“Well he’s been bitching about it all day. It’s starting to get on my nerves.” Eren flipped his phone over, leaning back in his chair as he did.

“Does he expect you to do something about it?” You asked, still trying to keep a low profile, while also trying to pry more information out of him.

“I’m sure thats what he wants, but I’m not going to help him with that, Floch can fight his own battles.”

A thick silence descended over your table. You took it as a sign that you could continue working on your homework. The one for your comms class wasn’t due until tomorrow, but you really wanted to finish it.

This had always really been how you did things. You tried to finish things early, study as soon as possible, take as much time to get your work done as possible. And you weren’t the only one. Armin had also gone back to his work, and though you weren’t sure when it was due for him, but it wouldn’t be surprising if it was due at the end of the week or so.

You weren’t all that close with Armin, but the two of you had taken the time to study with eachother for the one class that you did share, and you had even reached out once to ask if he would tutor you for a few sessions, needing help with your math at the time. It was a nice thought to know that you weren’t the only student to stray from the eyes of their peers.

Though he had a harder time with it, being best friends with Eren and all. Not to mention he was also friends with Mikasa Ackerman, who was arguably the girl who drew most people’s attention.

Before you knew it, two hours had passed, and you felt your phone buzz. You picked it up from the table, squinting your eyes at the bright screen. It was Jean.

“Hey, why are you with Armin, and that idiot.”

At this, you paused, looking around the library, not seeing Jean.

“Where are you?” you replied.

After a minute or two, your phone buzzed again.

“Come and find me.”

And that was it. He didn’t send any other messages, even after you sent him two more, questioning him again. You frowned, then looked to your things. You had been working for awhile, so getting up and moving might not be the worst thing. You proceeded to pack everything that you had pulled out earlier, and stood from your chair, looking to the other two.

“I think I’m going to head out. Let’s meet up again later in the week to work on Professor Hange’s assignment.”

Armin glanced up, and smiled, “Okay! How about Thursday? I can show you what all I’ve finished!”

“Sounds good.” You gave a short wave, and turned away from the table, scanning the surrounding areas before setting off in a random direction.

There were a few more tables behind some of the bookshelves, but none of the students sitting at them were Jean. You checked out the library’s computer section next, and kept looking until you ended up near Armin and Eren again. Another frown crossed your face, until you heard a muffled laugh.

With the new hint, you looked upwards to the second floor. And there he was, leaning against the railing, smirking down at you. You felt your face heat up in what you were going to call embarrassment, and definitely not any other word that had to do with your complicated thoughts on him, and how from where you stood, he looked almost handsome.

You sent a halfhearted glare his way and headed up the stairs, making your way over to him, about to comment on his antics, but you weren’t able to get a word out before he could make fun of you.

“You looked really dumb running around trying to find me.”

You gave an astonished laugh, “Yeah, well you sounded like a complete stalker just now.”

“And you still came to find me. I’m starting to think you like me more than you let on.”

The unsettling feeling returned to your stomach at his words, though you weren’t surprised that he was poking fun at you after yesterdays game. “In your dreams.” You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to ease the increasing amount of uneasiness that was slowly taking ahold of you.

“Hm, I guess that’s true. Does that mean you want me to dream about it?” He looked at you contently, despite all of what he said being the brashest thing you had heard from him yet.

You didn’t say anything to that, instead you changed the subject quickly. “To answer your question about who I was with, I actually didn’t plan on sitting with them. Armin and Eren joined me.”

He gave a slow nod, and peered back at the table down below, where the two were still sitting, “Do you think I could spit on Eren from here?”

“No, and I dont think you should even try.”

“Buzzkill.”

You scoffed, “I am not a buzzkill. You are just in the middle of some pointless battle of being better than each other.”

Jean looked back to you, staring at you for a moment. Then back down at Eren. “I just don’t get what everyone sees in that guy. He’s clearly an egotistical bastard with no regards to anyone else.”

“Do you think that you guys have anything in common in the fact that you both have ridiculously large egos?”

“Don’t lump me in with him.” This he said more seriously, “Anyways, enough about him, do you want to go do something?”

“Like what?”

He shrugged, and started for the stairs. You followed him wordlessly, and the two of you left the library, now back outside where a light breeze met you. The silence continued to hang over you two as you walked aimlessly in a random direction. You couldn’t tell if he was still thinking about your comment on him and Eren, or something else completely. You decided against asking him about it, and instead found a different topic.

“Hey so, I found this art exhibit at the museum, it’s about the book Hange assigned us. I was thinking that we could go and check it out and see if we can find anything useful?”

He thought for a moment, eyes wandering the path ahead. “Okay, it doesn’t sound like the worst way to spend an afternoon.”

“Would eleven in the morning on Friday or Saturday be okay?”

“Friday works better for me, I think I’ve got plans with Connie on Satuday.”

“Okay, Friday it is.” You paused, a smile slowly making it’s way onto your face, “Just make sure to be on time. I wont wait for you this time.”

“Hey! I already apologized for that.” He stopped in place, giving you a pointed look.

You stopped a few feet in front of him, shrugging as you continued to speak, “I need to cover all the bases. I am not going to wait around for you, just for you to tell me that you were hungover.”

“I am not going to be hungover again. I’m not going to make you wait, I swear.”

“You better not, I won’t be as forgiving this time.” You go to move past him, elbowing him as you do.

He turns on his heel to catch up with you, giving you a slight push at the same time, “You were hardly forgiving last time. You were mad the entire time we were working on the assignment,” Jean pauses, taking a moment to look at the path that you had set off on, “Wait, where are we even going?”

You glanced over to him, then back infront of you. “Well, I’ve done nothing but school work today, and you didn’t mention anything specific other than ‘go do something’ and last time you picked where we went, so now its my turn.”

“Are you going to tell me where we are heading at least?”

“No.” You smiled a little at the statement, remembering how you had done the same thing to him when he had asked about you caring so much about seeing the stars. Looking back over to Jean, who was staring straight ahead, you took a moment to really look at him.

He was pretty tall, and when he wasn’t smiling like some sort of evil bastard, he had a pretty nasty resting bitch face, a combination that probably scared anyone who didn’t know him. Though, you could say that despite all that, he had a few attractive features to him. When he was smiling, actually smiling that is, his eyes lit up. You hadn’t noticed it much before, but now when you thought back on the past few days of being around him, you could see the way his eyes would hold a certain softness. And when he was thinking, he tended to frown, scrunching up his nose until he came to whatever conclusion he needed. And when the two of you were in the field the other evening, he had an almost blissful aura to him, as if he had no cares in the world, you wouldn't ever guess that he was someone who caused so much trouble. Honestly it was probably a good thing that he had a difficult personality. If his ego was bad now, you don't want to know what he'd be like if he knew all of this about himself.

You looked away before he could catch you staring, and before you gave yourself any more time to think about him, not wanting to let yourself actually fall for the guy.

Instead you focused on finding your way to today's randomized destination. If you were being honest, you hadn't actually thought of somewhere to go, and frankly, with how little you actually went out, you didn't know too many spots around campus. Regardless, you continued to lead the way, until an idea formed in your head.

Earlier in the year, you had gotten a tad bit lost while trying to find a class, and ended up on the edge of your campus, where you stumbled on an old tree. Aside from the size of the thing, it seemed completely normal. But when you had looked further at it, there was something of a hidey hole in its backside. Since discovering it, you had made countless trips to the tree, using it as a place to get away from the school. You definitely weren't the first person to discover it, but it seemed like no one else ever really visited the old thing.

As you and Jean came upon the tree, he gave a low whistle, craning his head back to take in it's height, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you just took me to a make out spot,"

You threw a bewildered look at him, before shaking your head slowly, "Well, since you do know better, you should know that it's more likely that I've brought you to the best place on campus to hide a body."

He in turn shook his own head, "And here I thought we we're getting closer,"

"Closer to hiding your body?"

"Not quite what I was thinking…" he trailed off, taking a moment to circle around the tree, his hand trailing along the bark as he went, "so, what made you pick here? Other than premeditated murder."

As he came back around, you watched as he took the time to drop his bag at the ground by his feet, kneeling down next to it for a moment, searching its contents.

"Hm, I'm not entirely sure. I'm pretty sure I'm the only person who ever comes here anymore." You pause, eyeballing what Jean was now holding in his hands, "It's kind of like a secret hideout minus the secret part, since anyone can stumble on this old tree."

"And yet you brought me here…I'm starting to worry about my wellbeing," he chuckles, then takes a seat a few feet away from the tree.

In his hands, he held a sketchbook. It looked a good few years old, as loose pages stuck out here and there, and the sheets were starting to yellow along the edges. You watched on quietly, as he flipped open to one of the last few pages, pausing as he glanced back at the tree.

After a few moments you moved to stand just behind him, looking down at the page, which now held some sketch lines, resembling the tree just ahead of you.

You kept quiet for a bit, watching him quietly. He was lighthanded, it was as if any stray line within the whole piece would fly off the page and into the world around you.

"You know you can sit and watch me draw too, right?"

"Yeah, and sit next to you? No thanks." You moved away from him, a slight flustered tone in your voice as you realized just how long you had been observing him.

Instead, you took a seat at the base of the tree, opening your own bag, pulling out some more of your homework. Between the two of you, the only noises were the sounds of pencil on paper, and the occasional shifting of branches in the wind.

You weren't really sure just how long things stayed that way. The only thing that brought your mind back to reality was the feeling of being stared at.

"Need something?" You asked, arching a quizzical eyebrow in Jean's direction.

He shook his head, closing his sketchbook quietly, "Not at all. I was just wondering how much homework you were going to do before you got bored of being such a studious person."

You scoffed at him. He was teasing you for this again?

"Well, unlike some people, I need to pass all my classes so I can get the hell out of here."

"You hate it here that much?"

You paused, a lump forming in your throat. How were you even supposed to answer that question? All in all, this small town was horrible, and had been that way your entire life. Growing up you didn't have very many friends, and your family was fairly distant to you. You had shouldered all of your problems and responsibilities by yourself. Even now, in your college years it was hard to shake the feeling that you were still alone.

You drew in a breath. "Sometimes, I sit by myself at my desk, and just stare at one of my notebooks until all the lines blur together. And then I realize that I'm crying. But what's funny about that is, I never know why I'm crying. " you start, bringing your eyes to his, "I never have the words to describe what i'm feeling in those moments. It's the same with how I feel about this place. I really don't know if I hate it, or if I'm just…projecting something else onto it."

Jean stills with the information, until he takes a long breath in, "Art isn't much of a passion for me, as much as it is a hobby. I can't tell you how many half finished sketches I have. Sometimes I feel like I just don't have it in me to finish them, as if I'm scared of not knowing what I'm going to do next."

He isn't talking about art. You know this from the way that Jean looks at you, not with pity, but with a hint of understanding.

It was silent once again. Your brain turned over and over as you repeated his words in your head. Slowly, a wistful smile spread across your face.

"You know Jean, you're not so bad after all."

He stands up, shaking his head as he does, and makes his way over to you, holding out a hand for you to take, "I have my moments, I can't always be the charming asshole everyone says I am."

You hesitated for a moment, eyes flicking to his hand. Slender fingers and a wide palm, his hand looked soft, and the thought of holding it, even just for a moment, would be comforting. You took his hand, averting your gaze as he helped you to your feet.

"I'm sure everyone leaves out the 'charming' part."

"That's where you're wrong, everyone thinks I'm charming."

"Everyone but me that is," you chirp back, letting your hands fall to your sides.

"You dont think I'm charming?"

The churning sensation is back. You /wanted/ to say no, to tell him that he was annoying, loud-mouthed, and a pain in the ass, but somewhere in the time you'd known him, he had become annoyingly endearing, loudly funny, and a pain in the ass to ignore the thumping in your chest.

"I can't say charming is the word I'd use to describe you. Horribly pleasant maybe, but not charming."

At this he smirks, starting to walk backwards away from you, "Oh so you think I'm pleasant? Hopefully in the way that I'm nice to look at."

"You missed the word horrible,"

He waved off your comment, instead placing one hand on his chest, right over his heart, while reaching out the other hand towards you, "and yet, if I asked you to join me to a delicious five star dinner at my dorm, you'd still say yes."

You could feel your face flush, knowing that he didn't mean anything more than just to hang out for a little bit longer, and not in some sort of lame date way, "I'd only come because it would be free food, even if the food is terrible. Like you."

"So, that's a yes you'll be joining me for dinner? I've got…box mashed potatoes, frozen broccoli, and hopefully leftover seasoned chicken."

You turned back to where you had left your things, a slightly messy sight. "Alright alright, I'll come, pick up your things and we can go."

You knelt down next to your bag, trying to ignore the nervous shaking of your hands as you collected your things. Your mind raced with warring thoughts. How did this happen? How was it that Jean Kirstein of all people, had weaseled his way into being someone that you didn't fully hate? But, there was no way you were going to let him get in the way of school, and your plans to finally be free from this horrible town. But then part of you wondered, was it all one sided? Jean seemed to be the type to have all sorts of girls and guys fawning over him, even if he had only ever been open about one specific girl that he was interested in, which of course had been Mikasa. But you couldn't even blame him, she was out of everyone's league. How she seemed to be completely and obviously in love with Eren Jeager of all people was a mystery to you.

"Hey, are you listening?" His voice stopped your thoughts in their tracks, as you hadn't even noticed that he had been speaking to you.

"Now why would I be doing that?" You shouldered your bag, standing back up and facing him.

"We've been over this, because I'm charming- sorry, pleasant."

"Again, you left out the horrible part."

"I've got a feeling that you don't mean that, otherwise you'd just call me horrible." He turns halfway away from you, looking back to the general area of the school.

You paused, walking up next to him, trying to ignore the fact that he was right, "You just have selective hearing."

Jean eyed you while starting to head back to the dorms, a different and softer smile making its way onto his face, "Not when it comes to you."

You nearly tripped over a stray rock, his words repeating in cycles in your head. You could only give him a glance, busying yourself with avoiding any other stones on the sidewalk.

What did he mean by that? What did you want those words to mean? Your mind flashes back to your conversation with Marco. The feeling of your heart painfully pounding against your ribs surfaces. Your hands tremble ever so slightly while they grasp at the straps of your bag. Marco was right, and he hadn’t even said anything about you actually having feelings for Jean.

As the thought hit, you spared another quick look towards him. He was looking at you. Careful eyes studying your demeanor. The way you walked. The way your eyes struggled to meet his. The way your mouth formed a tight line as you realized all of this was happening.

“Hey, if you really don’t want to try my cooking, you don’t have to come.” He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair for a moment.

You looked away. You could turn him down, you could go home. It would be the easy way out. You could ignore any of his future attempts at hanging out. You could finish school and leave this place. Leave him and everyone else again.

The thought of it made you shudder. In doing so, you would be condemning yourself to your worst self. Being alone.

You looked back to Jean, his face morphed into one of concern, clearly puzzled as to why you were taking so long to answer.

You were tired of being alone. Tired of pushing away your own happiness in pursuit of a future that wasn’t even set in stone.

You flashed a smile his way, and waved off his words, “No way, you said it was a five star dinner. I can’t pass on that.”

He stared at you for a moment. Then, his confusion melted away, replaced by that famous cocky smile, “Okay good, I wasn’t sure what to do if you bailed on me.”

“Maybe you could have cooked for Connie too, light some candles, play some mood music, you know, make it all romantic for the two of you.” You chuckled, about to make another remark when Jean gave you a playful shove.

“Why would you say that! I can’t have a romantic dinner with Connie of all people!”

“Sure you can! It’s easy! Candles, music, food! All you need!”

Jean groaned and shook his head. “You’re horrible.”

“Pleasant, actually.” You grinned.

He hummed in response, and you could’ve swore you heard him mumble ‘horribly pleasant my ass’

His dorm room was warm, and set up similarly to yours. The same bland, small kitchen and the same questionable excuse for a couch just a few feet away. Three sets of doors that led to his roommates, and two bathrooms.

One of the doors were open, and you caught a glimpse of Connie attempting to take mirror selfies. He would take one, bring the phone close to his face, frown and then try again. It wasn’t until his third or forth picture that he noticed you staring through the mirror.

“Well if it isn’t our very own Rocky!” He grinned, hastily shoving his phone into the pocket of his sweats.

“Hey Connie” you waved, then smirked a little, “I'm sure the ladies will love all of those selfies.”

His face flushed slightly, and he stepped out of his small room, “For your information, the ladies already love seeing my handsome face. I was just taking a few more for-”

Jean cut him off, a bark of a laugh filling the room, “Like you can get a girl to think your ugly mug is anything worth looking at.”

Connie gaped, “Dude, that’s just cold. I thought you liked my face.”

You eyeballed the two, before turning to Jean and mouthing the words, ‘romantic dinner’

Jean glared halfheartedly, before a smile broke through, “and here I thought I was treating you to a five star, romantic dinner.”

Connie was now the one looking between the two of you, unsure if Jean was being serious or not. You, on the other hand, could feel your face heat up. He had to be joking. Jean was making a joke based off of your joke. That was the only thing that would make sense at the moment.

“Only if it involves candles and music.” You attempt to force your voice into sounding level, as if you weren’t sickeningly thrilled by the idea of your dinner with Jean being a little more than friendly.

His head swivels around the room, scanning the small area before emitting a sigh of halfhearted defeat, “Might need a raincheck on that, I don't have any candles.” Jean pauses, thinking for a moment, “Unless you had your heart set on the romantic dinner with candles and music, maybe I can make something work.” He smirked in your direction, true to his usual cheeky self.

You faced away from him, moving to set your backpack down on the floor by the door, “No candles, no deal.” You pause, practically feeling Connie’s wide eyed stare pointed at your back.

“That’s not a no to having a more than friendly dinner, now is it?” Jean fires back, smiling in a not so innocent way. Your stomach twisted in knots. He wasn’t wrong. You had intentionally avoided his question, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of yet another person falling for his aggravating charm.

You shrug a response, giving back another flippant response, “Sure, if it helps you sleep at night to think of it that way.”

After a moment of silence, Connie’s voice fills the room. “Yeah so, I don’t really know whats going on here, but i’m gonna head out. Sasha is waiting for me with Marco.” He slides on a pair of shoes, grabs a bag and promptly leaves, but not before saying a goodbye, “See ya later Rocky, and Jean, I hope you choke on your food.”

To which, all Jean says is, “Yeah, whatever man.”

You watch him leave quietly, then turn back to face Jean, studying him for a moment. He hasn’t noticed your stares yet, not when he’s busying himself with pulling out what he needed for this dinner supposedly high rated by Michelin themselves.

Throughout the past year or so, you had noticed that when Jean was concentrating, he tended to screw up his face a little, eyebrows scrunched in, mouth quirked off to the side, usually whatever was in his hands was being toyed with. But right now, he was different. A content soft smile, and the look in his eyes was gentle. Fond. Domestic.

“Do you need help with anything?” You asked, feeling the need to do something other than just stand around.

Jean looked back up at you, bag of frozen broccoli in his hands. “Do you want to make the instant potatoes or the broccoli?”

You walked to him, and grabbed the bag from him, “Where do you keep your pots and pans?”

“Planning on making this a fancy dinner?” He paused, taking a moment to grab out a small pot for you, and then a lid. “Are you steaming them?”

You set the bag down, then eyed the pot and lid, “Would you happen to have one of those steaming baskets? Or do I need to get creative?”

Jean smiled sheepishly, “I’ve got Connie for a roommate. If I was Niccolo I would definitely have one of those, therefore, you’ll have to get creative. But you’re pretty smart, so I believe in you.”

You nodded slowly. That made sense. Jean and Connie were in the same boat as Sasha, Marco and yourself. If you had done more planning for dinner you probably could have worked something else with Niccolo to borrow his cooking supplies. Though you were sure that the guy would say no, as he was pretty particular about his things. Oh well. You’d have to figure something else.

The rest of the preparations went fine, and before you knew it, the two of you were sitting at a dingy table that each dorm room had, making small talk over left over chicken and mid-tier potatoes and broccoli.

“Okay, so I’ll bite. What’s your deal?” Jean asked suddenly, then his eyes went a little wide as he realized the wording of his question, “I mean! Uh…Well-”

You cut him off, easily able to tell what he meant, “Do you mean why do I have no life and only study and do my work alone?”

He melted under your gaze, before nodding slowly, “I meant it a little nicer though.”

“Its okay, I got what you meant…I think.” You set your fork down, suddenly scrutinizing a small crack in your plate.

Jean cleared his throat a bit before speaking again, “It’s just that…you spend so much time studying, and it definitely pays off. I’ve heard from Sasha that you have really good grades. But…”

“But?”

“They worry about you. Sasha and Marco that is…and well, I kind of do too. At least, more now that I know you a little better.”

You don’t respond. He’s going somewhere with this. You can tell by the cadence of his voice, how he seems to be picking his words carefully.

“I think that even just in the past few days, you’ve opened up a lot…I finally got to see you smile.” He paused, “I remember one time last year, in one of our shared classes, I went to see the professor, but you were already there, pleading with him for some extra credit. And when you came out, you look like you had been crying. The next day, I went out of my way to tell you a joke, hoping that maybe you’d smile.”

“I remember that. I told you that I was busy with a make up assignment and ignored you.” You hummed a little, thinking back to Jean back then. His hair was shorter, and he was even more obnoxious that he had been this year. It was one of the few times you had actually spoke to him at the time.

“So…I guess I was just wondering where all this pressure on you comes from?” He fidgets with something in his hands. Like when he’s focusing on his work. You’ve seen it countless times in the past, you just never thought about it until now.

With a sigh, you resign yourself to telling him a little bit about yourself, “I’ve lived here my whole life. And my whole life, I’ve basically been alone. Friends were hard to come by, especially after I decided that all I wanted to do was leave. So, with no one to hold me back, as long as I finish college strong, I can leave and go anywhere I want. I have to do this. Staying here is out of the question…” You trailed off, thinking about how you had never truly said these words out loud.

“But?” He spoke softly, as if he could tell that you had been battling with yourself on what you truly wanted. He stared at you, not through you as most other people did. Your heart sped up. What were you supposed to say now? You had only started to question your aspirations because of him. And you absolutely would not be sharing that thought now.

“But nothing. I meant what I said. I’m getting out of this hell and I’m not looking back. Ever.” you spat the words out, a sudden low and hollow feeling settling in your stomach. What were you doing? A small voice in the back of your head answered that question for you. The same one that you let control most of your college days. You were wasting time, you had assignments to do and a degree to work towards.

You moved to stand suddenly. “I have to go…I forgot that I’m supposed to meet with Armin tomorrow. I should really make sure that I’m ready to show him my part..and yours too.” You grabbed your backpack, and escaping out into the hall.

You stood there quietly, chest moving up and down as you took in harsh breaths, not entirely sure why you did all of that. With a shake of your head you made the journey back to your own dorm, not bothering to take off your shoes at the door like you normally did, instead you merely trudged into your room, tossing your bag onto the ground by your desk, and finding a seat on the edge of your bed.

“Are you okay?” Your freckled friend spoke up, nearly giving you a heart attack in the process. You hadn’t even noticed that he was home.

You didn’t answer. Instead, tears began to fill your eyes. He was by your side in an instant, arms wrapping around you carefully. Muffled sobs wracked your body. With each one Marco only hugged you a little tighter. He let you cry until you were done.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.” The words fell from your lips, and you couldn’t stop what came after them, “This whole time i’ve had one goal; to graduate with soaring grades, and to leave. Make as few friends as possible so that way I wouldn’t get distracted…and so that leaving would be easier.”

“What changed then?” Marco asked, his voice soft and careful. You got the feeling that he already knew the answer.

“Jean. Jean crashed into my life and ruined my plans. I haven’t even really known him that long and suddenly I’m throwing away school just to hang out with him. I haven’t been studying the same way I used to, instead I’m playing volleyball with him, and he’s holding my hand as we run away. I’m sitting with him by that old tree and thinking about him instead of the words on my papers. I’m cooking with him and thinking about how muchI want to do it all again.” Your words are quiet, but Marco hears them all the same.

“You do know that those don’t have to be bad things, right?” He lets you go, taking a moment to scoot away ever so slightly, making you look up at his face, where a small smile rests, “It’s been nice to see you let loose. And I know that you’ve been enjoying yourself.”

You attempt to frown, “Thats not true.”

A beat passes and you speak again, “Okay. Maybe a little…but I-”

“No. No buts. You are the hardest working person I know. You are smart and you always apply yourself to your work. You are doing amazing. It’s time that you see that for yourself. You will finish school, and you will be able to go out into the world and do whatever you want to do, but that doesn’t mean you have to wait to have any of that fun. You deserve to enjoy your life, the one right now in the present that you are living, okay?”

His words played on repeat in your mind a few times, you tried to interalize them, make them into your own instead of letting that voice shoo them away.

“Okay.” You nodded, then brought a hand up to your face, covering your mouth for a moment, “I left Jean.”

“What?”

“We were eating dinner and talking and then I got upset and I just…I just left. “

Marco pursed his lips, nodding slightly as he tried to imagine the scene. Jean sitting alone at his table, probably confused and wondering what he did wrong. “Well…theres only so much you can do about that, which I suggest texting him. Let him know that you’re alright, and just so that the poor guy doesn’t overthink, that he didn’t cause you to run off.”

You nodded, “Right. Okay. I can do that.”

It grew quiet between you and Marco, though it didn’t last very long. There was a light tone in his voice, one he used when he wanted to tease someone without making them aware of it, though you had learned to recognize it fairly well.

“So, I’m assuming that you like Jean…at least a little bit.”

“Okay. Get off my bed. This moment is over.” You push him gently, facing away from Marco.

“Are you going to tell him?”

“Oh would you look at the time? I should really head to bed, okay goodnight Marco, get off my bed.”

He laughed, and did as you said, letting you have the room so you could change, “goodnight lovebird.”

Ignoring him as best as you could, you changed quickly, and crawled right back into your bed, under the safety of your comforter. Once there, you pulled out your phone, fingers trembling as you brought up the chat with Jean.

You stared at it for a moment. The last messages were from earlier this day. He hadn’t said anything since then.

Slowly you typed out an apology. “Hey Jean, I’m really sorry for just bailing earlier. Super not cool of me.”

You groaned at the words, quickly backspacing and starting again. “Sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to just leave you there. I promise things are fine. It wasn’t you, or the food for that matter.”

You hit send, not giving yourself time to overthink the text any longer.

Fairly quick after your message had been sent, Jean had already replied. “Its okay! You had me worried for a minute there. Thought maybe the food tasted so bad that you just had to leave to get an actual five star dinner.”

He was being courteous. Trying to keep the conversation light as to not scare you off again.

Your fingers flew across the keyboard once more, “Let me make it up to you. Friday, 11am, at the museum.”

“You really don’t have to make anything up to me, I get it.”

“Jean. Just let me feel bad and try to make it up. Or else I will think about this all night.”

His next message wasn’t exactly what you thought he’d say…or actually, it was exactly what he would say, “Oh, so if I don’t let you have your way, you will be up all night…thinking about me?”

“No.” You hit send. Then sent another message, “Ykw nevermind. I’m not sorry. Be on time friday or else.”

He was quick to shoot back another response, “Okay fine. Make it up to me.”

Then another message, “How do you plan on doing that anyways?”

“You’ll see. Be patient.”

It wasn’t long after that did you eventually fall asleep. The next day was pretty uneventful. Your meeting with Armin was fine, as the guy already had about half of the presentation outline done, and with all of the information and other necessary work that you had gathered, Armin would most likely have the whole thing done by the time he went to bed that night.

The rest of the day passed quickly, almost too quickly for your liking. Before you knew it, your alarm was going off, signalling that it was ten twenty-five in the morning.

You had spent some time the day before thinking of how to make up for ditching Jean the other night, and finally settled on an idea. Said idea was currently sitting on your desk, inside a plastic bag.

You gave it a quick look before climbing out of your bed, moving to your dresser to get ready for the day.

You had just thrown on your shoes, sparing a glance at your phone to the time. It was eleven. You were going to be late. Of course after all that talk to Jean about being on time, you were going to be running behind this time. You could only imagine what he would have to say about it.

You hurriedly grabbed the bag from your desk, and shoved your phone into you pocket after sending yet another apology to Jean.

The trip to the museum took about twenty minutes with public transport. It was eleven twenty-three and you had finally made it to the museum doors.

Jean was standing just to the right of them, staring down at his phone, his back to you. You watched as he brought his phone to his ear, and smiled slightly as your phone buzzed in your pocket.

You let it ring. Walking up and tapping his shoulder a few times. “Sorry I’m late.”

He spun around, eyes landing on your form. His mouth hung up for a moment before he hung up the phone call, “Is this to get back at me for the other day?”

“No…I just slept past my first alarm.”

“Oh so when you’re late its okay but when I’m late its the worst thing ever.”

You shrugged slightly, “I at least texted you in advance.” You paused, then remembered the bag you were holding, “Oh…um. I got you this. To make up for bailing.”

He eyed the bag suspiciously, “I thought I told you not to worry about it.”

“I worried about it. Now just say thanks and take the bag from me.” You rushed the words out, holding it out to him, “No refunds so you have to keep it.”

His fingers deftly took the plastic handles from you, and reached inside the bag. You watched quietly as he lifted the gift out, eyes softening as he realized what it was.

“You bought me a new sketchbook?” He hummed a little, looking at the cover for a few moments, “This is a really nice brand too. I’ve always wanted to try it out.”

“Your other one looked a little full the other day…so I figured I could afford a nice one to say that I’m sorry. “

Jean let the sketchbook slide back into the bag, “Well…thank you. I really appreciate this.” He toed something on the ground, eyes unable to find yours.

You instead took this moment to find the exhibit tickets on your phone, nudging him slightly, “Let’s get going, there’s a couple of pieces I think we should look at specifically.”

Once inside, you took a few moments to study the map of the place, trying to figure out which hall you needed to go to, before Jean took your hand in his, face a little flushed as he did so.

“I come here pretty often, most of the new exhibits are near the back on the first floor.” He said, pulling you along with him.

It wasn’t too crowded, and as most museums were, it was quiet. A nice solitude for those who liked to hide away from the world, and find new ones in the art and historical pieces sheltered there.

When the both of you made it to the exhibit, you found that you were the only ones there. Meaning that you could stare at the art as long as you needed. Which you did. Slowly you let Jean’s hand slip from yours.

You hadn’t thought about seeing the art in real life, and how much it would effect you. Entrap you in every single paint stroke, every single carving of marble. It was beautiful. Clearly the story that was assigned to you had meant a lot the various artists.

You found Jean staring at a drawing. It was mostly in charcoal, though some color had been added here and there, giving the piece whimsical dimension. It looked to be a tree. A large, barren tree in a valley of never ending sand. From the branches, blue and green spilled out across the paper, spanning what would be the sky.

“You like this one?” You asked with a hush, not wanting to startle him.

He nodded, “It’s simple, but I just know that the artist put a lot of work into it. Every line is purposeful. And we will never truly know what it means.” He responded, eyes traveling down to the plaque, where it read the piece’s title, “Paths.” With an unnamed author.

You let him look at the drawing for as long as he needed. You wandered to a sculpture on display a few steps to the right. It seemed to be one of the titans depicted in the story. Creme colored marble in the form of a woman, skeletal mouth open in what the book claimed to be a war cry. There were ribs formed around her abdomen. Her hand outstretched towards the open air. From this perspective, despite the lack of facial features, the statue almost looked sad. A women with an extraordinary ability, forced to use it for harm, all because she was in love with the wrong person. At least, that’s what you wanted to think. You were sure that others in your class thought the opposite. Which of course was exactly what your analysis was going to focus on.

You studied it for a few more moments, before looking away, finding Jean now standing across the room, in front of another painting. You moved to stand next to him, looking at what held his attention.

It was of a starry night sky, bathed in dark blues and purples. Underneath, was a lone pig in a field, head faced towards the grass.

“This is what started the book, right?” You asked, watching as he nodded once.

“But that’s not what i’m thinking about.”

“Then what’s going on in your mind?”

Jean looked back to you, smiling sideways, “Why did you wait the other night, at the field? I figured that you were waiting for a star, but why?”

You brought your eyes back to the painting, looking from the dark green grass, to the pig that was grazing on it peacefully, then to a star painted to be the brightest one there.

“When I was younger, I used to stand outside, or at my window, and just wait. As soon as I saw the first star of the night, I made a wish on it.” You paused, thinking back on your childhood, “I used to wish for a friend, or someone more than that. I was pretty lonely as a kid. Eventually I started wishing for a future other than that…and then, I stopped wishing. I still would wait for the star, but I made sure that I wasn’t relying on a ball of gas in the sky to make my wishes come true.”

“I’d say that they came true then.” Jean turned his body to face yours, looking down towards you, some thought dancing in his eyes.

You mimicked his motion, allowing yourself to face him fully, “And what makes you say that?”

“You’ve made two whole friends.”

“I’ve made three.” You corrected him softly, thinking back to your first conversation about it with him, “Sasha and Marco are very nice people who I like a lot.” You state matter of factly.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “And the third? Don’t tell me it’s Floch…or even worse, Eren.”

“Mmm close. It’s you.”

He places a hand to his heart, dramatic words escaping him, “How long have I waited for you to realize that you and I are friends.”

“You’re still horribly pleasant.” You remark, shaking your head, “Maybe I should take it back about being friends.”

“Too late, you already said it. No refunds.” He drew closer to you, enough to where you could feel his warmth. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Isn’t that technically already a question?” You pause, then nod to him, “But, yeah, go for it.”

“When you graduate, and leave this town. Will you forget about your friends?”

You hesitate. You knew that he wasn’t really asking about Marco or Sasha. You can feel your stomach flip over a few times, that annoying feeling of nervousness that came whenever you thought about Jean.

“No. I wont. How could I?” Your words seem to have some sort of effect on Jean, as he dodesn’t speak. You continue, trying to pick your words carefully, “When it comes to you, specifically you…I would have one hell of a time forgetting you, Jean.”

“I am pretty cool…” He mumbles, then swallows his pride, “But, what if I don’t want you to remember me?”

You tilt your head to the side, giving him a confused look, but still allowing him to continue.

“I just mean…what if I want to be remembered as not just a friend. As more than that?”

He locks eyes with you, his face serious as he waits for you to say something, to say anything really.

You swear that your heart stops beating altogether. It wasn’t one sided. You thought back to your conversation with Marco from two nights before. You deserved this. Deserved to enjoy yourself. To let yourself live a little.

“I think i’d like that.” You smile warmly, “Because I like you Jean. I tried really hard not to, but I do. And maybe, just maybe I don’t want to look back on college and only remember you as a friend.” You pause, taking in a small breath and willed yourself to finish your thought, “Maybe, after I graduate, we both can look back on the time. Together.”

“So, you don’t want to skip town and never look back?” he asks

“Skip town? Still do, but I can’t afford to ignore my time here.”

“What if I came with you when you leave.” it’s less of a question, and more of an idea.

“Let’s just get to graduation first, Jean.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, nodding as he does, “Got ahead of myself there. But I have one more question.”

You study him for a moment, just as you had been studying the rest of the art in the museum. “You know, you were only supposed to ask one question anyways.”

“Last one, I promise.”

“Okay, okay, what is it?”

“Can I kiss you?”

You’re suddenly all too aware of the small gap in your bodies, and his baited breath, and the sensation in your stomach that feels less like churning water and more like butterflies floating around blooming flowers. You hardly hear yourself tell him yes.

The stiffness leaves Jean’s body, and he brings his hand free from the plastic bag up to your face, cupping your cheek lightly. His hand is warm, but not as warm as your flushed face is. His thumb moves back and forth slightly as he pulls you to him. His lips are soft, and you can feel his lashes flutter against your cheek. You easily find it in you to move in sync with him, allowing yourself to lean into the kiss, a small smile finding its way onto your face.

He lets you pull away first. And for a moment all the two of you can do is stand there. You’re sure that you could stand there all day with him.

You let him speak first.

“So, am I still horrible?”

“Horribly, yet pleasantly charming. Yes.”

#jean attack on titan #jean kirstein #jean kirstein x reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #aot #aot fic #aot x reader #jean kirschtein #jean kirschtein fic

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lungs4sale · 4 months

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my fav hannigram fanfics

png by @pngsforyou

1. Impasto by jiggityjams

“You’re not going to try to discourage me, Will?” Another glance, a pursing of lips. “... No. I can see the determination in your face. You know what you want and you have the means to obtain it. Most clients think they know what they want- until they hear how long it will take and how much that work will cost. We’ll work out some numbers, of course, and draft a contract. If you’re willing to be patient with the piece then I’m willing to give it my best go.” A small, pleased smile spread across the psychiatrist’s face. “I think this is the start of a beautiful partnership, Will. I look forward to working with you.” Or the one where Hannibal has found a lost treasure and Will has given up on police work and has turned his talents to restoring oil paintings.

this is a different au where will quits the fbi and becomes a painter (if im not wrong). abigail is alive and works for him. i read this awhile ago and i remember loving it because of how sarcastic will was. one of my notes was: will was so desperate to open up (not sure why but this man is so touch starved and craved for affection in the show so i guess it's canon accurate). i also have a soft spot for fics with abigail in it because she deserves the world.

2. Five Times Hannibal Visits Will and One Time He's Already Home (or: Coffee Cake) by bones_2_be

When Will tells Hannibal to leave at the end of Digestivo, he goes. And then, a few years later, he shows back up. They have long conversations, drink a lot of wine, at the end of it all they find something that works.

i just finished reading this 2 days ago and it was an experience. i loved how well paced it was. the writing really matched the same vibe of the show. both hannibal and will were written quite accurately to how i feel they would react in the show itself. the way both of them interacted in this fic was realistic and how i wish i could erase my mind of this fic so i could experience it again for the first time.

3. each according to its kind by chaparral_crown

Will does the only reasonable thing that someone fresh out of a mental hospital with no support system does - he leaves, and goes on a road trip to the Pacific Northwest.

this fic is THE hannigram fic, fight with the wall. kidding. this is more of a character study of will (hannibal doesn't even show until halfway through). the writing is top tier and just like the fic before it really does match the vibe of the show. i personally am not a big fan of smut (i don't mind it, i just prefer plot over that) and this book barely had any in it which is a godsend.

4. ...And This One is Just Right by Sabi

When an injured BSHCI escapee breaks into Dr. Graham's vet clinic, it doesn't end cleanly. Surely it couldn't happen again? Or again?

will is a vet in this universe and i'm not sure why but i pictured him younger? it's only 4 chapters if im not wrong and it's a fun read! the characterisation of will is not as accurate to the show but to be fair it is a different universe and i still love this fic dearly.

pngs by @saizun

i'll post more because i want to create an archive here. i don't really like how ao3 looks so i'm going to do it on tumblr instead. if you have any hannigram recs plsplsplspls let me know because i'm literally begging for scraps sire. also merry christmas to those celebrating!

#hannigram #hannibal nbc #ao3 fanfic #ao3 recs #will graham #hannibal #alana bloom #abigail hobbs #plasticghostbot's ao3 recs #hannibal lecter #each according to its kind #...and this one is just right #Five Times Hannibal Visits Will and One Time He's Already Home (or: Coffee Cake)#impasto #beverly katz #i love hannigram sosososo much #hannigram ao3

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 1 year

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Do you think about me?

AN: I was originally going to post a Felix fic for Valentine's Day, but I realised I haven't posted any fics about Seungmin yet, and this was the perfect time. Kill two birds with one stone. I do have a softer Seungmin fic in my drafts, but I chose violence because I don't love myself obviously lol. Happy Valentine's Day!

Synopsis: Seungmin is the guy you told your ex-boyfriend not to worry about. Turns out he had reasons to be concerned after all.

Heads up: Kim Seungmin x Fem! Reader, friends to friends who fuck/potentially lovers , some angst pertaining to Reader's previous relationship with Chris, Seungmin being a menace, dirty talk, hair pulling, mild biting (f. receiving), nipple play (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), degradation (f. receiving), mild edging (f. receiving), slight dacryphilia, unprotected piv sex, Seungmin being a bit of a douche and slandering Ex! Chris, Possessive! Seungmin, implied breeding kink (it's not stated outright but, it's definitely there) and creampie.

I will block you if you are minor and have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

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"You look terrible," Seungmin comments when you let him into your apartment, making himself at home on your couch.

"Wow, thanks. It's nice to see you too Seungmin and, Happy Valentine's Day," you respond dryly, shutting your door and trying to remember why you let him into your home in the first place. You'd much rather continue to wallow in solitude.

"It's true. Go take a shower and change while I get us some food. You've been moping for long enough, and you need to come back to the land of the living," he says, not missing a beat and opening up a food delivery app as though you'd just go along with him.

"It's been two weeks. I think I reserve the right to still be sad about Chris," you say, your heart clenching uncomfortably at the mention of your ex-boyfriend's name. At least you're not crying anymore. That's progress.

"Sure, but you can't just keep yourself locked up in your apartment forever. Also, shower. Now. We'll talk when you're finished," he says, glancing up at you and leaving you with no room to argue with him. Seungmin always seemed to know just how to get you to listen to whatever he said. It's really aggravating.

"Fine," you sigh in defeat, trudging your way towards your bathroom and choosing to ignore the triumphant smirk you know is on his face right now.

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You try to steady your breath as the warm water from your shower head washes over you. You'd never give him the satisfaction but, Seungmin was right. A shower definitely made you feel significantly better.

When you step out and take a look in the mirror, you're startled by your appearance. You look like a ghost of yourself. You probably looked worse before taking a shower and actually doing some skincare, but you still can't help how caught off guard you are by how unlike yourself you look. However, making yourself feel worse isn't productive.

You opt to start getting dressed after moisturising your skin, throwing on an oversized shirt without a bra and shorts. Pointedly ignoring your reflection this time around, you leave your bathroom feeling better than you have in admittedly a long time.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

"There she is," Seungmin says when you come into view, a genuine smile painting his face. Your mouth waters when the smell of the food he ordered wafts over to you, luring you towards your coffee table where Seungmin spread it all out.

"What did you get?" You ask, settling beside him. Your eyes taking in the various dishes in front of you, saliva pooling in your mouth.

"Comfort foods. Dig in," is all he says in response, grabbing a dish filled with what looks like rice cakes. You don't notice his careful gaze watching you as you grab a few slices of pizza for yourself and eat away, his eyes softening considerably.

A comfortable silence fills the space between the two of you as it always does. You'd be lying if you said you didn't appreciate him being here. Your apartment had been lonely the past few weeks, and having someone here feels... nice.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks quietly, his eyes meeting your surprised ones. Seungmin isn't pushy and invasive usually. You know he's happily drop it if you said no, but talking about it might help, and you know he'd listen. Really listen.

"We just... I think we just wanted different things. I think we're both in different stages of our lives, and it wouldn't have been fair to make the other wait. It was mostly mutual but, it still sucks, you know?" You say softly, swallowing around the lump you can feel building in your throat.

Seungmin pulls you into a hug before you realise what's happening. Strong and supportive and just there. You return his embrace, food forgotten on your table as you try your best not to completely fall apart. It's been so long since someone else has touched you. You close your eyes as you let his warmth and scent wash over you, hands fisting the fabric of his shirt.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I just thought it might help," he mutters against your ear, his breath making a shudder involuntarily run down your spine. It takes a moment for you to steady yourself, "No, it's okay. That's the gist of it, really. He'd get a little jealous sometimes too but, it wasn't the biggest problem we had."

"Jealous? Why? You were nothing but loyal to him," he responds, confusion clear as day in his voice.

You could never lie to Seungmin even if you tried.

"He was jealous of you. Of us. The friendship we have," warmth filling your face as the confession spills out of you.

Seungmin pulls back then, his warm, wide eyes meeting yours as his hands rest on your shoulders, "Jealous of me?"

"Yeah, I mean even Jisung always makes jokes about how the two of us are closer than most. I think it got too much for Chris,"

"Jisung's an idiot," he retorts with a roll of his eyes, and you actually laugh. You can't remember the last time anything or anyone managed to get even a chuckle out of you.

"You're not wrong there, but my point still stands. I think you made him feel threatened, in a sense," you say, and an unreadable expression crosses his face. He seemed to be contemplating something.

"Were his feelings unfounded?"

It's your turn to be surprised because Seungmin's question catches you completely off guard.

"What?"

"Did he have a reason to feel threatened?" He asks with so much seriousness that you don't know what to say for a few beats, your mind totally blank. Seungmin is a good friend. You care about him deeply. You also recognise that he's kind, funny, great to banter with and attractive, but you've managed to keep those thoughts mostly to yourself over the years. Or at least you think you have. Maybe Chris caught onto them more than you realised.

"The look on your face is telling me maybe his feelings weren't unwarranted,"

His voice breaks you out of your thoughts. The small, smug uptick of the corners of his lips is both irritating and unnecessarily attractive. "No- I- I would've never done that to Chris."

"I know you wouldn't have, and I think he knew that too, but I think your hesitance to even answer my question is pretty telling," he says, his eyes taking on a knowing gleam.

You flounder with your words once more, denial at the implications Seungmin is making hot on your tongue, but you know you'd be lying.

"I'm flattered, really," he says, far too amused with how flustered you are and privately just relieved to see signs of the old you.

"You're so annoying," you huff, lightly shoving his chest with your hand and rolling your eyes to distract yourself from the tension you feel in the air. It's probably all in your mind anyways.

"Yeah, and you want me," he retorts with a full-blown smirk this time around, his usually warm eyes taking on a more mischievous glint. All you can do is stare at him. Kim Seungmin leaving you speechless at his audacity.

It's made all the more worse because he's not wrong.

Your heart rate picks up considerably when one of his hands moves to cup your jaw, his thumb lightly brushing your bottom lip as he watches the movement intently. He looks like he wants to eat you alive.

"I can't say your feelings aren't reciprocated," he mutters lowly, the drop in his voice making your insides clench around nothing. Embarrassment running through you at how easily he manages to effect you.

"I- huh?" Is all your murky mind can manage to come up with at the moment. Resisting the intrusive thought to just take his thumb in your mouth.

The grin he gives you is mean and condescending, not the typical smile you've come to know and expect from your friend. It only makes the ache so much worse. He let's out an amused, throaty chuckle before speaking, "Do I really have to spell it out for you? I want you too."

Seungmin seems to be trying his utmost to make your heart stop beating in your chest today.

"But, I need to know you're okay with this. Actually okay with this. I would never take advantage of you when you're vulnerable. I care about you too much to do that. If you say no, we can stop right now and pretend this never-"

You cut him off with a kiss to his pretty lips. Pouring years' worth of want and frustration into it, your hands desperately pulling him towards you and swallowing his startled noise. The kiss is messy and uncoordinated, but you can't bring yourself to really care when you finally have him like this.

One of Seungmin's hands weaves its way into your hair, giving it a slight tug and grinning against your lips when you gasp at the sting. Taking the opportunity to lick into your mouth while his other hand runs along your waist, toying with the bottom of your shirt. You barely have a chance to breathe, let alone think with how thoroughly he's kissing you.

Eventually, oxygen does become a necessity, but he doesn't relent. Moving from your likely bruised lips and kissing along your neck, his teeth occasionally grazing the skin there in a way that makes you melt further into him.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to have you like this," he utters against your skin, pressing his teeth a little harder against a weak spot he found during his exploration. His hand ghosting over one of your breasts, stilling the air in your lungs. Between his words and his ministrations, trying to remember how to speak is becoming increasingly more challenging.

"I've wanted you for s-so long too," you breathe, too wound up to care about bearing so much to him at once. Your response seems to shatter whatever fragile resolve Seungmin had because you soon find yourself on your back. His hands impatiently shoving your shirt up as his mouth finds yours once more.

He swallows the mewls you let out against him as his hands touch your breasts for the first time. Giving them experimental squeezes to gauge your reaction. You find yourself arching into him when his fingers toy with your sensitive nipples, a gasp flying from your mouth when he gives them a particularly hard pinch.

"I didn't think you'd be such a masochist," he muses, licking at your throat once more as his fingers and hands toy with your tits to his hearts content. His hardening cock pressing against you through your flimsy shorts.

"I didn't think you'd be such a menace," you fire back, but the breathlessness in your voice dispels any potential venom in your tone. You cry out when he bites down on your neck harder than before. Not enough for it to really hurt, but the little pain it provides is enough to worsen the sticky mess in your panties and, you involuntarily grind yourself against his sweatpants covered cock.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of. This is nothing," you're not sure if that's a promise of things to come or a threat, but either way, you're not complaining. Before you can think to retort, his hot, wet mouth envelopes one of your nipples. Licking and sucking at the sensitive nub in a way that makes your toes curl. All of this is only worsened by one of his hands slowly trailing down your body, fingertips lightly grazing your abdomen until they reach the top of your shorts.

But because Seungmin seems to enjoy seeing you suffer, his hand stills there. Toying with the waistband of your shorts and every brush of his fingers making the ache you've been feeling for what seems like ages more unbearable.

"Seungmin," you whine, thrusting your hips up towards him in search of any sort of relief, your hands tugging on his hair desperately. The pop that rings out when he releases your nipple borders on obscene, his eyes alight with desire and mischief once more.

"Yes?" He asks, sounding far too pleased with himself as his fingertips trace featherlight patterns just above your shorts.

It takes everything in you not to huff in frustration at this incredibly aggravating man, but you have a feeling that would just emboldened him. "Please touch me," you beg barely above a whisper, the throbbing between your thighs currently more of a priority than your ego.

"I am touching you," he retorts, pressing kisses to the tops of both of your breasts to prove his point and snapping the waistband of your shorts against your skin.

You might actually hate him.

"No- I mean, please touch me here," you respond, grabbing his hand and sliding it down the front of your shorts until his fingers brush your more than likely ruined panties.

You can't help the smugness you feel when you see the ever composed and teasing Kim Seungmin falter for once. His lips parting and eyes becoming lidded when his fingers experimentally touch you, taking in just how wet you already are.

The unadulterated want on his face makes him look more attractive somehow. A strangled gasp flies from your lips when his fingers run along your clothed slit, hips twitching into his touch at each brush of his calloused fingers on your swollen clit.

"You're soaked already," he groans against your skin, sweat dotting his forehead and making his hair stick to it as he meets your gaze. His fingers continue to touch and brush and run along you in a way that quickly drives you to madness.

"Seungmin, please. It hurts. I want your fingers inside me please please plea -" your begging is cut off by two of his fingers pushing your panties to the side and sinking into you to the knuckle, his lips finding yours again and leaving your mind spinning.

His fingers stretch you out in a way you haven't felt in some time. Your own not nearly as long and thick as his. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull when he starts moving, curling them inside of you in a way that makes an embarrassing high-pitched keen spill from your lips that's he's more than happy to swallow.

"So fucking wet and tight," he groans, increasing the speed of his fingers when it seems like you've adjusted to the stretch. His fingers quickly finding that spot inside of you that results in your walls gripping his fingers harshly because of fucking course he would. He just had to be good at everything. He opts to continue kissing and licking and nipping at your neck as he fucks you brainless on his fingers. All you can do is lie there and take it, moans and mewls and keens mixed with incoherent words all you're able to offer in return. Your hands moving in a frenzy. Unsure of whether they want to tug on his hair or grip his shirt to steady yourself.

"Are you gonna cum just from my fingers already? Isn't that a little too pathetic, y/n?" He asks against the shell of your ear, the harsh tone of his voice making you gush on his fingers more.

"Oh, you like it when I'm mean. Aren't you a cute, little, brainless slut," he groans, tugging your lobe with his teeth as his thumb presses against your clit. His body keeping you in place as your body bucks against him at the sensation, crying out when he rubs hard circles against the hypersensitive nub.

Your orgasm is so close that you can practically taste it. Sparks building at the base of your spine and spreading throughout your body as Seungmin's fingers, mouth and words push you closer and closer and closer to the edge.

Which is why it hurts all the more when Seungmin abruptly stops and pulls his fingers out from inside of you. Your eyes fly open, and you meet his dark ones, a devilish grin spread across his face as he leans away from you. Sadistic pleasure coursing through his veins as he takes in your dishevelled state.

The tears build in your eyes make his cock throb, "Seungmin, why- why'd you stop? I was close," you ask and the whiney edge to your voice tempts him to sink his cock into you right then and there.

"I'd much rather feel you cum on my dick," is all the answer you receive. Complaints dying on your lips as Seungmin tugs off his shirt impatiently, your hunger eyes taking in his bare torso as he makes quick work of his boxers and sweats as well. Seeing him completely naked infront of you makes you realise just how empty you are, panting like an animal in heat at the sight of his long, flushed cock smearing pre-cum against his tense abdomen.

"Well, what're you waiting for?" He asked with a raised eyebrow like you're a moron. It takes you a moment to catch on to what he means, your own hands tug off your skewed, ruined clothing in record time. Seungmin takes a moment to admire you spread out before him. Thighs parted and, your pussy swollen and leaking with arousal all for him. His cock pulses as he takes it in his hand and slowly runs his tip along your slit, the corners of his mouth lifting up when your hips buck up into him everytime he brushes your clit or teases your entrance like he'll sink in any minute now.

You think he might just make you lose your mind.

"Seungmin, please," you beg so desperately that your voice cracks in the process, but you couldn't care less. Nothing but, the desire to cum or feel him inside of you or, both really, taking over.

"Since my needy slut asked so nicely," he responds, pushing the head of his cock inside of you. Both of you moan at the feeling, Seungmin gritting his teeth as he pushes inch after inch inside of his cock into your tight, hot pussy. His forehead rests against your shoulder when he finally bottoms out, your quiet mewls and his harsh breathing being the only sounds heard in your living room.

Your nails dig into his back when he gradually starts moving, his cock hitting spots inside of you that render you borderline delirious. "You're so fucking ah tight," he rumbles against your throat, grabbing your thigh and angling your leg over his hip in a way that makes him slide impossibly deeper.

"Seungmin, yo-you feel so good. So de-deep," you babble out, a few stray tears falling down your face as he picks up speed, his balls slapping harshly against your ass with each one of his thrusts and his tongue lapping at the sensitive skin of your neck.

"Yeah? Is my little cockslut already going stupid on my cock?" You noticed it earlier but, the possessive edge to his voice makes you clench around his cock harder. All you're able to do in response is whine and moan, nodding your head in an attempt to answer his question.

"Aren't you cute and pathetic," he breathes unsteadily against your skin, groaning at the way your walls try their best to get him to cum. "Didn't take you long to let me fuck you, did it? How long have you fantasised about this?"

Shame intertwined with arousal knots in your gut because he's right. It didn't take him long at all to have you spreading your thighs for him. You're honestly amazed that he can speak coherently right now. Your own cognitive abilities failing you as you try to muster up words to answer him.

One of his hands grips your jaw once more and forces you to meet his intimidating gaze, his cock stilling inside of you completely.

"I asked you a question. I expect an answer," god, the commanding tone in his voice really shouldn't turn you on as much as it does.

"I-I've thought a-about you um like thi-this since we f-first met," you manage to stutter out, trying your hardest to focus with him nestled so deeply inside of you.

"So, it seems like you can speak," he says, resuming his unrelenting fucking into as though it's nothing. You can feel your orgasm building once more, hoping against hope that he'll let you finally cum this time around. You're not sure what you might do if he doesn't.

"That long, huh? You should've said something. I would've happily fucked you dumb on my cock a long time ago. No wonder Chris was jealous," he muses, but hearing Chris's names throws you for a second, surprise colouring your face.

"Oh, come on, y/n. Don't give me that look. We both know that you were thinking about every time he so much as touched you. I bet you touched yourself to thoughts of me too" he whispers into your ear, his hand moving between your bodies until his fingers eventually find your clit. He wastes no time in rubbing fast circles against you, low groans filling your ear as you clench and gush around him.

Even if you could respond, you're not sure what you would say. Seungmin's sheer nerve leaving utterly speechless. Fortunately for you, your orgasm slams into you before your mind can dwell too much on the jarring accuracy of his words. Your hands cling to his broad shoulders for purchase. Your body convulsing harshly underneath his as he continues to fuck you through your mind numbing release.

"Fuck," he moans, lidded eyes taking in your purely blissed out expression and his hands flying to your thighs as he chases his own climax.

"Your pretty pussy is gonna make me cum, baby. Gonna fill you up with my ah cum. Fu-fuck, gonna cum inside you. Make you take it all," he groans deliriously, picking up speed even more all while the obscene sounds of your wetness and skin slapping against skin rings out. "My good girl. My cumslut ah fuck," is the only warning you receive before he stills inside of you to the hilt. Moans and curses spilling from his mouth as his hot, thick cum paints your walls white. His hips jerking against yours from time to time as he rides out his release.

The two of you catch your respective breaths. The sticky mixture of your climaxes slowly leaking out of you but, you're still too hazy and thoroughly rung out to bring yourself to care at the moment. Your fingers playing with the ends of Seungmin's hair as he plants soft kisses against your shoulder and collarbone.

"Hey,"

"Mmhmm?"

"Happy Valentine's Day," if anyone asks, your heart definitely does not stutter in your chest at the smile he gives you after wishing you a happy Valentine's Day. Not at all.

#kim seungmin smut #seungmin smut #stray kids smut

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callmelinamfsnow · 2 years

Text

“How Old Are You?”

Ch. 2: Four Days Later Ch. 3: The Beginning of The Date

Warnings: Spoilers for TUA S3

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 1,243 (give or take)

a/n: This is a rough draft of a fic I thought of the other day. I wanted to post it and get some hype for when I fully finish it. Also the ending of S3 was bullshit.

“Hey”

Five looked up from his coffee to the girl who had just slid her upper body to rest onto the counter, hair falling as she looked up at him. “Hello” was all Five said but straightened his composure and gave her a smile.

The universe has just been reset. His problems had been solved. He wasn’t about to start off one of his first interactions by being an asshole.

“How old are you?” She asked, squinting her eyes at him a bit as if she could figure it out if she scanned his face more.

Here we go.

“Why do you care?” He replied after a sigh.

“Kind of need to know your age before I can tell you” she continued, sitting up a bit. “Are you at least over 18?”

He paused for a second and thought, while taking her appearance in. She was wearing a simple ripped black jeans, white tank top, and jeans jacket but he was intrigued.

He’d noticed his body had seemed to start aging a bit more over the past three weeks. One of the only positive things to keep him going. It seemed he was at about 18 and he wasn’t about to claim to be younger.

“Yes. I am”

“Great.” She smiled and pushed some of her hair behind her ear. “Well now I won’t be embarrassed that I tried to flirt with an underaged kid”

He perked up at that.

“Go on” he smiled and turned himself in the stool to face her. A small smile trying to spill out as he took another sip of coffee. “Not sure what more I have to say. I notice you in your cute suit when you came in and thought you were interesting, but couldn’t figure out if you were of age.” She explained after giving a shrug. Then leaned in closer to him and continued in a low voice, “my friend bet me $10 and the bill if you were older so I’m feeling pretty lucky”

He chuckled at that which caused her to smile a bit. “Well congratulations” he smiled and patted her hand, leaving his nearby when he placed it back on the counter. He was enjoying his first somewhat romantic interaction with a real woman in a while, and he wasn’t going to let her think otherwise. “Does your friend know about your flirtatious plans with me?” Five asked, quickly noticing the simple hoops and necklace she wore.

“Well me saying you seemed cute was what struck up the conversation, and while they did tease me about doing it they aren’t fully aware of it, no” she answered, keeping eye contact that made something in the pit of his stomach churn. She was very attractive, and admittedly looked nothing like Dolores which was new. “Is that because you were afraid of the possibility you’d be flirting with a high schooler?” Five asked as he finished his coffee. She laughed at that and shook her head a bit before replying, “Yes. Would not like to have that moment drawn out anymore that needed to”

“(Y/N) we need to go soon. Who’s paying?” Someone called over from a table causing the woman infront of Five to look over. He couldn’t help but look her over a bit better before he looked at the table. “You are” she smiled back, watching the friend roll their eyes and groan in defeat as the waitress approached with the bill. “Well, looks like I’m going to have to be going soon” she said as she turned to Five, “are you seeing anyone?”

“Not at all” he smiled

“Mind if I give you my number?”

“I’d love nothing more”

“Great” she bit her lip and grabbed a piece of paper and pen from her pocket. Five watched her write her number and what looked like a small note on it, chuckling when he leaned over to get a look and she moved her body to cover it up.

“Is that going to be it for you?” The waitress asked, pointing to Fives coffee. “Oh, uh, yes thank you” he nodded and pushed it closer to her. It then hit Five that he had no way of paying for it, and the waitress seemed to know it as she walked off eyeing him.

“What’s wrong?” (Y/N) asked, folding up the paper. “Just realized I have no money to pay for this” he sighed quietly, watching out for an employee. “How much is your tab?” “Just this coffee. Probably five dollars with a little tip. Maybe I can find some…” he mumbled the end to himself as he looked around. The sound of (Y/N) rummaging through her pockets followed by her smacking something onto the counter rang through his ears, the latter startling him a bit. “Here. On me” she smiled and slid a $5 bill to him. “You just helped me win a free meal and $10 so I guess it’s the least I could do” she teased at the end, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Thank you (Y/N)” Five hummed, his eyes focusing on her smile for a second until he noticed her bite her lip. He felt another churn in his stomach and met her eyes again, receiving a cocked eyebrow from her. “I’ll pay you back” he added and before she could say it was fine he continued “on our first date”. He let out a cocky smile when she notice her blush lightly and bite her lip again as a small smile spilled from them. “Well alright then…” she trailed off, suddenly realizing she hadn’t gotten his name yet and Five froze for a second. This was a new universe apparently and he could start over. Maybe a new name that drew less questions, but he hadn’t exactly had time to think of a new one.

“I’m Five” he said holding his hand out for her to shake. Her eyebrows creased in confusion and her head tilted to the side a bit as her hand went to shake his. “That’s a cool and different name” she nodded, going silent when Five took her hand and kissed her knuckles gently. “Well aren’t you cute” she hummed teasingly causing Five to chuckle. “Why thank you, you’re quite beautiful yourself” he offered back and gently let her hand go.

“(Y/N)! We got to go” her friend called from the table again. “Okay I’m coming” she said slightly annoyed as she glanced back at them. “Guess I should let you go before your friends get upset with you” Five took the piece of paper and put it in his pocket for when he’s be able to get a phone to call her with. “Yeah” (Y/N) sighed, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. Five took the $5 bill and slid it to her waitress, mumbling a “keep the change”. “Well good bye (Y/N).” He smiled, taking her hand and kissing it again. “Bye Five. Looking forward to hearing from you” she smiled.

Giving each other a quick nod she turned and walked back to her friends. Five watching her the whole time, catching her every time she would glance over. Then right before the group exited she gave him a wave which he returned and then watched her disappear into the night.

Fuck he needed to get a phone, and fast.

#five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves imagines #five hargeeves x you #five hargreeves x plus size reader #five hargreeves #five Hargreeves x reader #five Hargreeves x f!reader #five Hargreeves fluff #tua x you #tua imagine #tua blurb #tua fic #tua five hargreeves #tua spoilers #tua s3 spoilers #lina once wrote

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bqstqnbruin · 9 months

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See You Again

I'm actually posting a fic for the first time in seven months aka the first fic I've finished in seven months peace love teaching

anyway, I wrote this for the lovely @wyattjohnston's summer fic exchange! I got to write for @selfindulgentpoorlywritten but I've never written for Nico before, so I hope you like this (I was fully inspired by my own mess of a life)

Edit since I’m a dumbass thank you to @kat-hearts for reading this first and being amazing ily 😭

One of the characters, Nat is nonbinary, and I did my best to make the reader gender netural, which I haven't done before on either account, so I hope I did it justice (if something is glaringly wrong, please let me know!)

Warnings: I was mean with the ending? A little? Also, some swearing, drinking, almost physical fighting

Word Count: almost 2.8k

_______________________________________

“When was the last time you saw him?”

You tried to shift through your memory to figure that out. In person, the last time was sometime in the first week of December about two years ago. Thinking about him, which thankfully didn’t count, would involve you giving a much more recent answer, way more recent than you would really like to admit. “I don’t remember.”

“Well,” your roommate Nat says, looking down at their phone. “I have bad news.”

“Fucking hell,” you moan, tilting your head to hit the back of the seat of the Uber. You knew what they were going to say before the words even started to come out of their mouth.

“Nico is going to be there tonight. With all the guys.” You let out another groan, the Uber driver giving you a scowl through the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry! Jack didn’t know he was coming, or he would have told us way before we got ready.”

You stare out the window, trying to think of all the ways that you could get out of this situation. You already paid for the Uber and didn’t want to pay for another one. You weren’t about to go somewhere by yourself, especially since the bar you were heading towards wasn’t within a reasonable walking distance if you were to go somewhere by yourself, and no way was Nat going to leave with you without Jack, and Jack, of course, wasn't going to leave without his teammates.

“We can go back right now and I’ll tell Jack to have fun with his team instead,” Nat tells you as if they could read your mind. They put their hand over yours, trying to give you any sense of calm that was setting into your panic. “We do not have to be around Nico.”

“What kind of person tells someone they like them but not enough to date them?” you mutter, knowing you and Nat have had this conversation many times on your kitchen floor, drunk and crying together at 2 in the morning. They had introduced you to Nico one night after a game when the team went out to celebrate. They had been dating Jack for about a year at that point, meeting him through his brother at Michigan and reconnecting when they both realized they were going to be in New Jersey together. Quinn had used the reasoning of, “he won’t know anyone in the state,” only for everyone to realize later that he knew Jack had been smitten with Nat since they met. If only you had been so lucky.

You had known of Nico, obviously. How could you not? He was the captain of the Devils, the team you grew up surrounded by, the number one draft pick in the sport your roommate never shut up about. He covered your social media feeds without you really wanting them to and everyone you knew talked about what a great game he had the night before. You couldn’t escape the idea of him, no matter where you went.

When you met him that night a few years back, there was something about him in person that you were drawn to. He had been just an idea to you, not someone you could think about as being real. You spent that entire night with him, your friends either wandering off or you too enthralled with Nico to notice that they were there. Nat and Jack were heading back to your place before last call, and you were left knowing that you had to see Nico again.

He asked if he could kiss you, making you melt as his hand gently snaked its way to your cheek, pulling you close when you said yes and covering your mouth with his. You waited for his text the next day, anxiously checking your phone until he finally did after 3 pm. From then on, you told each other everything, texting each other whenever you could, him calling you and heading over to your apartment whenever he didn’t have an obligation to the team. You fell hard for him and you had believed that he felt the same about you.

“The kind of person who doesn’t know what they have until it’s gone,” Nat tells you, trying to pep you up. “Hey, we can find you a guy that is just as hot as Nico tonight.”

“I’m gonna move to Ireland and isolate myself with the spuds.”

“Act like you can be away from me for that long,” they tease, earning a laugh from you. “I’m serious, though. Tell me what you want to do, or who you want to do, and Jack and I will make it happen.”

You didn’t want someone just as hot as Nico, you wanted Nico. You hated the fact that there was more than one time that you had pulled up his messages on your phone, part of you unable to delete that conversation thread even though you knew it would be the healthy thing to do. But you weren’t known amongst your friends for doing what was best for your mental wellbeing, so you kept them, going back through the conversations you had in the four months you were seeing him. The last text was what haunted you the most, him telling you that he was going to be back in Switzerland for the summer and that he ‘didn’t want you tied down to one person’ while he was gone.

He said he would text you when he was back.

He never did.

There were multiple times when you wanted to text him, but you never did, either.

“Yeah,” you manage to choke out. “Let’s do it.”

You spend the rest of the ride in silence, trying to think of where in the bar you would be able to hide from Nico so that he wouldn’t see you. The guys were already inside, Jack telling Nat about 10 minutes ago that they went to start drinking as fast as they could.

The bar was somehow muggy inside, as if the beer itself hung in the air rather than the sweat of the nearly one hundred drunk people that were crowding every square inch of the floor. Jack was easy to spot for Nat, his five foot eleven frame not the largest of his teammates, but still distinct enough that your roommate had left your side within seconds of entering to be with their partner.

So much for finding you someone tonight.

You tried to stay away from him, closer to Nat and Jack as best as you could, but they kept wandering off from you. The last thing you wanted to do was go with them when they were both on their way to drunk and have a history of doing slightly illegal things in the bathrooms at bars.

You had to find someone to talk to. Any person who looked interesting. Any other guy on the team who you were friends with, but that was really only Jack, and that was really only because he’s dating Nat. Your phone was your only comfort, finding a table that had been pushed up against the wall and hoping that there was something you could doom scroll on that would distract you from looking towards Nico.

He had the right to do what he wanted at the bar with his teammates. You weren’t together.

“You ok?” you hear during a lull in the music, pulling you away from your phone for a moment. You didn’t know who was standing in front of you, one of the newer guys from the trade deadline that Nat definitely hadn’t introduced you to. He was waiting for you to respond, looking like he had wanted to sit down with you.

“Yeah, just, not a big ‘going out’ person.”

He lets out a nervous laugh, a smile that sends a jolt through your system that you hadn’t felt in a while. Since Nico, if you were really willing to be honest with yourself. “Me neither, honestly. I’m just here because I didn’t have anything else to do.”

“I got dragged here with my roommate so they can be with their boyfriend,” you tell him, gesturing to Nat and Jack trying their best to sneak out of the bathroom, Jack’s shirt buttoned wrong, both of their previously neatly styled hair in a mess that you only saw after hearing them the night before.

“So that’s the infamous Nat,” he says, taking the seat beside you. You nod as he continues, “Jack never shuts up about them. Not that Jack shuts up about anything or anyone, ever, but especially not Nat.”

“I always knew he was a good one,” you tell him, introducing yourself so he knew you as more than just, ‘his teammate's partner’s roommate.’

“I’m Timo.”

You spent the rest of the night bouncing between the table and the bar with Timo, him buying you every drink you wanted. There was something about him that was different, but you couldn’t focus all of your attention on him.

He was talking about his time in San Jose while you were waiting for your next round of drinks. You couldn’t focus on a word he was saying, Nico within your line of sight talking to a girl. A really attractive girl, you might add. You felt your heart drop, feeling a lump in your throat forming faster than you could lie to yourself about that scene having no effect on you. Naturally, Nico would talk to other people. You hadn’t talked to him in two years, let alone seen him in person. Just because you couldn’t get over him, no matter how hard you tried, that didn’t mean he didn’t get over you.

“And then I got traded here, and I love it, so far,” you tune back into Timo, who is suddenly much closer than you remember. It’s just because the bar is loud, people are starting to crowd for drinks, and, fuck, you have to admit, he’s pretty hot.

Nico was still watching.

Timo took your hand, leading you off to the table where you were before, the drinks in your hand probably not ones that you needed to begin with. His free hand snaked its way to your waist, pulling you close to him. You could feel your heart racing faster with every inch he got closer to you. You wanted him to kiss you.

You thought you did.

“I’m sorry,” you pull away right as his lips were about to meet yours, tears starting to form in your eyes, leaving the drink he bought you in his hands as you ran from him. Your breath catches in your throat while you try to find Nat and Jack, just praying that they weren’t back in the bathroom or too intoxicated in general to help out.

You heard Timo calling after you, somehow, through the volume of the music and your own drunkenness, breaking through and getting to you. You didn’t want Timo calling your name, you wanted it to be Nico.

You needed it to be Nico.

“Hey, hey,” you hear, feeling a familiar hand gently place itself on your arm. You turn around, Nico’s face a mixture of concern and fury. “What did he do?”

“He, he,” you stammer, the tears falling faster the more you looked at him, every memory you had with him suddenly rushing back into your mind. “He didn’t do anything. You did.”

You yank your arm from him, trying to find anywhere to be in the building that didn’t have one of Nico’s teammates looking at you causing a scene. You knew he was following you, calling your name again and again over the music. People were starting to stare, but no part of you cared, trying harder to not let the tears that were burning your eyes fall down your cheeks.

Nat and Jack were nowhere to be seen, the rest of Nico’s teammates trying to figure out what was going on when you burst through the front door of the bar, the cold fall air hitting your face as soon as you did. You let out a sob, trying to steady yourself against the wall of the building, sliding down to the ground while people waiting to get in tried to figure out if they should help you or if you were just another drunk person having some sort of meltdown that was none of their business.

“Hey,” you hear, a soft voice coming from above you. “I’m so sorry if I did something wrong.” Timo slid down next to you. “I read the situation wrong, I thought you were also into me.”

“I am, I just,” you start, trying to think of what to say.

“Hey, what the fuck did you do?” Nico yells, pulling Timo off the ground. “What did he do to make you cry?”

“Nico, stop,” you let out, Timo looking both confused and terrified by his new captain’s hand on his shirt collar. “He didn’t do anything.”

“What the fuck did I miss?” Timo asked, slowly trying to back away from Nico staring you down.

“Why can you talk to other people and I can’t?” you ask him, feeling your sadness turn into anger. “You had no issue not talking to me for the last two years.”

“I’m gonna go,” Timo lets out, barely loud enough for the two of you to hear and sneaking away before you could notice.

“You didn’t want to talk to me,” Nico counters, taking a step towards you. “But you wanted to talk to TImo instead?”

“Where the fuck did you get that idea?”

“You never texted me. You’ve spent the entire night avoiding me. You think I didn’t see you when you were by yourself on your phone?”

“You were in Sweden. And you could have come up to me and talked to me, what was stopping you? Oh, that’s right, your new girlfriend.”

“Switzerland. And she’s not my girlfriend. I haven’t seen anyone in ages.”

“Wherever you were, you weren’t here,” you tell him, your back against the wall. How long had it been since he had last seen someone? There was no way you had been the last person he was with. “You told me you didn’t want to be tied down while you were back home. You didn’t even want to talk to me, because if you did, you would have.”

“You’re joking,” he scoffs. “You think I didn’t want to talk to you? Every fucking day I have thought about how our conversations would go when I saw you after you get home from work. I would think about you telling me about your day, about everything you would tell Nat, or whoever you were seeing at the time. Every single person I saw in the last two years, I wanted them to be you.”

You didn’t know what to say, letting Nico’s words sink in. “Then why didn’t you text me when you came back from Switzerland?”

Nico took in a deep breath, closing his eyes and tilting his head up to the sky. “Because I thought there was no way someone else wouldn’t have realized how amazing you are. There was no way I could be someone who you thought was worth waiting for.”

Nico takes a step towards you, his hand gently taking yours. This was a moment you had been thinking about since he left for Switzerland two years ago. You knew he was going to kiss you, having you pinned against the wall of the building. His free hand cupped your cheek.

“There you guys are!” Nat interrupts, them and Jack clearly having just finished up doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. Nico steps away from you, clearing his throat, the red in his cheeks so noticeable there was no way even your roommate wouldn’t comment on it later. “We’ve been looking for you, for um.”

“Long enough,” Jack finishes their sentence, a stupid smile covering his face. You knew he was lying, but no part of your brain was letting you focus on that. Nico leaned against the building, his arm up over your head. “The uber’s almost here. Are you ready to go?”

No. “Yes.”

The three of you leave Nico standing there by himself, Nat and Jack falling asleep in the Uber as soon as it gets on the highway.

You check your phone for the first time in a while, a lone notification popping up on your phone that hadn’t been there in almost two years.

‘Nico, iMessage.’

#nico hischier #nico hischier fic #new jersey devils #devils #new jersey devils fic #devils ic #summer fic exchange 2023

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dracaelus · 1 year

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BATMAN/DC FIC RECS

I like to make a list of fics i like but i'm starting to get kinda tired of scrolling through all my drafts to get to this one, so i'm posting this and starting a new one. This is mostly batman centric. Multiship ! The quotes are not the synopsis, just some parts i liked from the fic so i can remember what exactly happens in the story/what i liked about it. This list is more for myself tbh. I tried to keep things organized but probably failed

1 Wholesome and fun, but with a serious undertone/a bit of angst

Finished:

Nature and Nurture, by lurkinglurkerwholurks: long fic, multi pov batfam, they meet de aged Bruce Wayne through multiple stages of his life

"Bruce could feel a slow smile begin to spread across his face, until it stretched from one cheek to the other, framed by dimples on either side."

Am I The Asshole?, by FabulaRasa: greenbat/batlantern (i have to find out the official ship name), but also hal x bruce's bathtub; mostly hal's pov, and i love their dynamic so much. I recommend you read the whole series

(...) He crossed to Garwell, confident he could find a cab headed uptown on the wider avenue. After all, a world where Hal Jordan called him baby was a world where anything was possible – even catching a cab in Gotham in a winter storm headed uptown.

What Not To Wear To A Wedding At Wayne Manor, by FabulaRasa: oh i love this fic so fucking much. I can't put it into words. It's just so so good, you wouldn't believe it. Another batlantern/greenbat. I love this pairing with my entire heart and they're so good in here, really, so amazing. Mostly Hal's pov. I love this author and this might be one of my favorite works of them. This is just beautiful.

"And now. . . stupid idea number three? (...) This is your plan now?"

"I have a good feeling about this one."

Axial Rotation, by FabulaRasa: ok, so i really have a thing for this author works. Their batlantern/greenbat (?) is so good, seriously, i can't stress this enough. I love how committed FabulaRasa is to find a way to make their relationship work while still acknowledging how fucked up they are.

“Okay,” he said. And he put his hands on Bruce’s face, in the mirror of Bruce’s gesture. Last night’s stubble had become a definite shadow by this morning, and his face was like sandpaper. And also indescribably beautiful. “You are so fucking beautiful, you know that, right?”

Bruce’s small wince told him that he did not, in fact, know that, but that was okay, Hal had a lot of time to teach him that.

Lungs full of saltwater, by Maeruh: GHOSTBAT FIRST SOULMATE AU AND IT'S FREAKING GORGEOUS, SO SO BEAUTIFUL

It drowns him as if rocks had been tied around his ankles before throwing him into the sea.

It is suffocating.

Furthermore, it's refreshing

How Batman Made The Housemaid Cry, by FabulaRasa: technically batlantern, but the focus is on Bruce and Alfred, and they are amazing in this. I love them with my whole heart

He pulled his cell out of his inner pocket and texted. Remind me to tell you about my conversation with Alfred, he said. And then please use your ring to erase my functional memory. Do whatever you have to do.

a soul that's born in cold and rain (knows sunlight), by bat_butch: ghostbat; bruce visits his parents grave and talks about Khoa

He thinks about the light in Minhkhoa’s eyes when he smiles. The glint that they gain when he teases, and the excitement that sparks when they spar. He thinks about the careful way that Minhkhoa cleans his swords. The line that forms between Minhkhoa’s brows when he’s sewing a mask or a cape or a wound.

Like a cactus on frayed wires, by Maeruh: ghostbat fic! It's just Khoa thinking about batman, but it's so sweet

"Khoa wondered then if, as the cactus fell, anyone would dare try to catch the cactus?

With its thorns, sinking into your flesh and with the dirt soiling you. With the possibility that it would be useless.

He supposed that there is always someone."

Kerosene in my hands, by Maeruh: oh this one. Maeruh is definitely one of the best ghostbat writers we have, and their minhkhoa narration is absolutely perfect.

Because Bruce is like that, he wants to be the sun in the lands where winter never ends.

And Khoa is a selfish snowman.

Relax, Clark, you're only getting married, by truc: oneshot, clarks pov, super fun to read. Honestly, I recommend the entire series

When, on the eve of his marriage to Lois Lane, Clark gets serious pre-wedding jitters, he calls his best- worst- man to help him deal with it. Bruce, in all of his pink and gray Barbie sleepwear glory, offers knockout drugs, unsolicited wedding rants/advices and a video gaming opportunity. Despite everything, the wedding isn't a total disaster.

Unfinished:

Manor - Dad lets me drive the Batmobile: batfamily at it's best, seriously, also incredibly funny, wholesome, with great family dynamics! Multi pov's

“Bruce!” Dick shouted when he finally spotted him. “Look! This has to be the Batcave!”

The what Cave?

“Can you believe it? Did you know it was right here under the manor all this time? This must have taken years to set up and look at all that cool tech! Of course, Batman has the best. Have you seen him…”

Dick trailed off and studied Bruce cautiously. His gaze lingered on Bruce’s neck, where this night’s fights had resulted in a small bruise, and the coffee mug in Bruce’s hands.

“Look, Dick, I know this is a lot to take in—” Bruce began to speak, but Dick interrupted him.

“You’re dating Batman!”

Brilliant Analytical Minds, by stuckoncloud9: some really fun Riddlerbat! Bruce's pov. Edward loses some of his memories and leaves his life as a supervillain to become a private detective. Somehow, Bruce ends up being his Watson

He was silent for a moment, then looked up at me. “Riddle me this,” he said. “I solve nothing, I build nothing, but I can destroy anything. What am I?”

I thought about it. “I’m not angry at you, Edward,” I eventually replied

love, nevertheless : superbat. Funny, wholesome, beautiful, poetic, Bruce's soulmate is Gotham, with Gotham city being kind of sentient. Soulmate au, mostly Clark's pov

"He needed to go back inside, to slip back through the service door and into the ballroom before too many people noticed him missing, but for just another second he wanted to hold out. He wanted to be loved and feared and owned by someone he could never hold or touch in its entirety any other way."

2 Pure comedy and/or fluffy

Finished:

and he looks at me, and i look at him, by Shleapord: THIS IS WHAT PEAK TEENAGER BRUCE LOOKS LIKE, I CAN'T STRESS THIS ENOUGH. Honestly, comedy gold

“You are a fantastically strange child,” said Diana. She said it with perhaps too much interest and not enough wariness for comfort.

“That’s what Alfred says. Also my old science teacher when I dissected everyone’s squirrels for them because everyone who goes to Gotham Academy is a coward, except for Roman who’s a bitch. I’m not allowed in Biology classes anymore, all I can do it take higher-level Chemistry classes for my science credits.”

welcome to the playground, by Shleapord: once again teenager Bruce being my reason to live

"Like, I get kidnapped all the time and Alfred says its good for me as a growing young man to learn how to navigate stressful environments"

here as i am, by TheResurrectionist: this is sladebru/deathbat and okay, i find if pretty hilarious but a more accurate description would be pwp? The important thing is that i love it, i'm lowkey such a sucker for sladebru >...<

Slade briefly debated making the sign of the cross, but thought better of it, running a hand down the man’s sweaty back instead.

Begone, foul demon, he intoned in the safety of his mind, still thinking of that flash of white teeth in near-darkness. Of burning blue eyes and plush, kiss-reddened lips.

Send to All, by kerosceene: peak comedy batfam.

I, ___________________________, hereby acknowledge that this form represents my wishes should I contract phytoaphrodisiac-induced delirium (hereafter referred to as “PAID”) during engagements with or while apprehending Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley (“Poison Ivy”).

Bruce knows how to swim, and he is will swim up the entire Nile if he has to. Too bad Jason has other plans, by arrowupmysleeve: this is a batlantern one, but what i'm actually highlighting here is clark. Perfect, absolutely stunning. Tecnically he doesn't even show up but he still steals the show. Clark eavesdropping on other people's conversations and sending them messages with his opinion is a top tier concept and needs to be used more times <3

Text from Clark K at 10.45:

I know you're awake, B😡

Text from Clark K at 10. 46:

I can hear you chewing😒 Pick up.😠😠

The last text makes Bruce pause. He knows Clark can't see him, but he turns to glare in the direction of Metropolis anyway and takes a large bite of his toast. And if he is chewing a little louder than usual, well, no one is here to call him out on it.

I'm Not As Think As You Drunk I Am, by Mardiaz173: good old identity porn superbat, clark is being messed with by bruce but he loves him so he gets away with it

Until behind them, Arthur yelled, “Cheer up, Bats! At least we already know Kal’s into brunettes!”一he broke off into a yelp一“ow, Diana!”

Arthur’s heckle seemed to piss B off一well, even further than his anger at Clark forcing him to go to the medbay. He didn’t speak their entire way there. When reached the medbay, B sat on the examination table with petulant air around him.

Clark really did adore him.

Lugubrious Alarmism: baby Clark being the most adorable person in the universe, superbat friendship with dolls, justice league shenanigans, very wholesome and super fun

Clark beamed and tugged the mask back into place. “Yep. Boose okay.” With that, he clasped his irritable stuffed friend to his chest and planted a kiss atop it’s cowled head. “Missed you.”

Space cellmates, by BoredomBeckons: superbat, a short but hilarious oneshot

“Mr Wayne. Please take this seriously.”

“I take everything seriously Superman. I’m Batman.”

“Look, it’s obvious you don’t believe me…”

“I do believe you.”

“…but I really am Superman, and I want you to know that whatever happens I will do my best to protect you.”

“Since your powers are being hindered it seems to me that I’ll be the one protecting you.”

“Right,” Clark sighed, not bothering to argue.

“Because I’m Batman.”

“Sure.”

3 Not sure if it's the same as the first, but here we go: comedy with some angst

Finished

Getting It Right, by FabulaRasa: batlantern/greenbat (?), Hal's pov, some really good slow burn but like, not too slow, and seriously, don't get too caught up on the sinopses, it's not nearly as dark as it seems, it's actually quite lighthearted and with some family feels too

Jordan wasn’t just laughing, he was doubled over with it, his grin wide. “You’re so mad,” he managed, through gusts of laughter. “You are—you are genuinely so mad, look at you. I was just kidding, your score was higher, but I just wanted to see you lose your shit, and you did, oh my God are you in fourth grade or what?” And he threw his head back and laughed even louder. Bruce gave him a shove off the railing, and he just laughed harder.

Article 120, by FabulaRasa: I wasn't expecting this one to be one of my favorite batlantern fics i've ever read, not given the dark subject, but god, they are so good in here.

“Don’t mind him, grief hits everybody different. He just found out Batman broke up with him, but he’s gonna be okay.”

4 angst with some lightness

Finished

Sanctuary, by FabulaRasa: batlantern/greenbat (and yes, at this point i know it's batlantern but i got attached to greenbat so i will keep using both, sue me), angst with some comedy, great family feels and Hal and Damian relationship is really precious. Hal has a chronical illness but is not dying. I recommend strongly that you read the whole series

(...) He wasn’t someone whose absence would be felt along a thousand fault lines and ripples, like a hole blown in the universe – not like people who had families and huge networks of friends. He wasn’t one of those people.

He sat cross-legged on the floor for hours, staring at the welter of wings and the green light that surrounded him on all sides. He had never thought of himself as one of those people, but somehow he had become one of those people, when he wasn’t looking. Somehow he had acquired a family, and the ripples of his life extended far beyond his own calculations. He had sat down on this floor one person, and when he rose – stiffly, slowly – hours later, he was another, a person whose ties to the universe around him were different than he had thought.

How To Keep A Promise To Hal Jordan, by FabulaRasa: I love everything this author writes, seriously, I can't stress this enough. This is batlantern, of course, and mostly Bruce's narration. Some parts of it ripped my heart out

(...) He let his eyes skate to Bruce’s lips. He wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. Contact with the unthinkable. The impossible. Only the impossible had held him in his arms. Had touched him, had caressed him, had said impossible things to him.

Something about us, by Maeruh: ghostbat, khoa's narration at it's finest

"I had a dream," are the first words that leave Khoa's dry lips upon awakening. He doesn't get up immediately, just stares at the immaculate white ceiling of The Haunt.

(There's something different, he feels it buzzing deep inside of his bones.)

"Oh, that's unusual for you."

Unfinished

Drawn to the blood, by bat_butch and bellandeano: Ghostbat in a dc vampire au! Their dynamic is really good and Icon is such a sweetheart :)

“I don’t know how much you’d enjoy that victory, Ghost-maker,” Bruce muttered. “Winning me over with a bite and a bit of blood. I think you’d be disappointed.”

"Do you think so?" He tilted his head back, arms crossed. Bruce was right, of course. And he wasn't even looking for that victory anymore. "I might just take it to be forced to cooperate with someone effective."

“No,” Bruce dismissed. “You wouldn’t.”

"Don't be so confident. You're not as relevant as you used to be," he replied easily, voice clipped.

“Neither are you.”

you're still the oxygen i breathe/i see your face when i close my eyes, by nygmamale: this one is special to me bc i'm a sucker for ghostmaker interacting with tim and bao :)

"Later, after Khoa had pushed everyone away, he sits alone in Bruce’s townhouse, in a shitty beaten-up chair that smells like him.

Thirty minutes prior, he had ingested a copious amount of psilocybin. He wanted to see him, one more time."

5 angst

Finished:

every tale a tragedy, by pomeloquat: ghostbat, khoa's narration. Bruce and Khoa are soulmates; things don't go well for them.

"The strand around Khoa’s finger twists and tangles and pulls taut as he traverses the globe. Always stretching back toward Bruce, always tying them together. No matter the distance, Khoa knows Bruce is waiting for him on the other end."

#batman #bruce wayne #batfam #fic rec #batlantern #sladebru #superbat #ghostbat #riddlebat #drac fic recs

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doodles-bi-tea · 6 months

Note

Hey I’m 🌱🫖 Anon the one that asked for that detailed Brad Bakshi fic, and I wanted to ask if you are going to release it or if you don’t feel like writing it anymore (it’s totally fine either way) is mostly just to know.

Also I love how you have decorated your blog with a F1 theme. I’m a fellow F1 fan (since childhood) and I’m also Spanish so seeing that you have a Carlos profile picture always makes my day ☺️

-🌱🫖

crying lightning (unfinished/pt. 1)

Brad Bakshi was by no means a warm person. At least, not that you had thought until now.

pairing: brad bakshi x coworker reader [second person, no y/n]

warnings: a couple of cliches, fear of dark and thunderstorms, power outage, profanity, developing feelings. mostly fluff/comfort. brad is a little bit of an asshole, as expected (and now you’re caught up!), but not the whole time. one mention of c.w.

(unfinished) word count: 2.3k

a/n: based off of this request here! heyyyy 🌱🫖 anon, I really appreciated the request! hope you don’t mind I focused it more so on season one/two brad. sorry this took so long to post and I didn’t even get to finish it, I got caught up in the struggles of daily life smh 😔 but thank you so much for your patience, I might finish it if I get the motivation but at the moment I’m not sure… also yes I’m into f1 now!! I might write for some of the drivers if people really want that but I’m not sure since I’ve been very busy. let me know if you’d be interested in that!

Your keys clinked together as you locked the front door of your apartment. After that was done, you slipped them into your bag and began the ten-minute walk to work. The sounds of Los Angeles were blocked out by the headphones you wore, listening to music and podcasts as you crossed streets and walked along the pavement. People, although no more than faces and outfits, passed you every day on the same route you went to get to Mythic Quest headquarters. It felt like just another day.

“Fuuuuuuuck.” You groaned, slouching down and letting your head hit the desk with a thud. The rain was absolutely pouring outside, you could hear it.

Being on the writing team wasn’t as glamorous as you had hoped it would be. C.W., as much as you initially admired his works, was an incredibly lousy head writer. That was normal, but especially today, he or one of the other slightly psychotic department heads were extra adamant on making sure you couldn’t get any work done. Thus you’d needed to stay a little later than normal.

It was only an extra half hour to revise a rough draft and a couple storyboarding charts, you’d told yourself. That was before the rain started twenty minutes into those extra thirty minutes. If you had left on time, you would have been able to get home – and with time to spare! – without needing to get rained on. Since you’d waited, though, the rain started, and forced you to stay in the building until it dissipated. When you checked your phone that morning, the forecast was only clear and sunny. That was clearly not the case now. Locked in your workplace, you decided to continue working until you either finished or the rain stopped.

Back to the present moment, you had just finished the work you needed to do, but the rain hadn’t let up. It didn’t seem like it was going to any time soon, either. If anything, it sounded like it was getting worse. You sat up, leaning back into the rolling chair you had, and pressing your hands to your closed eyes in frustration.

“What are you still doing here?” It was almost like Brad could smell the despair emanating from your being.

Not expecting his sudden presence, you nearly jumped at the mere sound of his voice.

“Jesus Christ, Brad,” You abruptly pulled your hands away from your face and gripped the armrests of the chair. “Scared the shit out of me.”

He scoffed. “I try. But what are you doing here? Work ended an hour ago.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“Yeah, you could. But I asked first. And you still haven’t answered.”

You inhaled through your teeth before pursing your lips. “Okay, fine, I wanted to just finalize some stuff the writing team and I were working on today. Poppy and Ian wouldn’t leave me alone because they were having one of their little… piss fights and were bothering everyone to see who was ‘right.’ I wasn’t gonna stay for that long, but the rain clearly had other plans.” You halfheartedly gestured to the windows in the main room that showed the overcast sky and harsh rain happening outside.

Brad didn’t even bother looking behind him. “And, what? You don’t have a ride or something?”

You furrowed your brows at his response. “Dude. I literally walk to work every day. It’s easier because it’s not that far and I get to avoid the issues of traffic and having to park in the parking structure, you know? And the gas prices, have you seen that bullsh-”

“Yeah, yeah I get it, whatever. Just shut it. I didn’t come here to listen to you complain.” He waved a hand around aimlessly as he began to roll his eyes.

Neither of you said anything further for a moment, you just sat there watching as he studied the ground. If you hadn’t been looking at him, you wouldn’t have noticed the very subtle twitch of his eye and the little exasperated sigh he let out as he seemed to be weighing his options. He opened his mouth, but paused. Then he went on to speak.

“You don’t even have like a flimsy little umbrella or something? A raincoat? Nothing?” He hung his head slightly lower, talking with an air of disbelief.

“Does it look like it, Bakshi?” You held your hands up and swiveled around in the chair a little, glancing quickly around the room with furrowed brows. “If I had either of those I would have left already.”

“I don’t know what goes through your mind,” He scoffed again. “I’m not a lowly writer. I’m the HOMIE.”

You didn’t really have any words. You wanted to so desperately insult him but you knew he would easily be able to destroy you with less effort. Instead you opted for just biting your tongue.

“Whatever. I’ll probably just wait it out. Even if it means I have to sleep in my office.” You moved your chair closer to the desk and laid your forehead down, quietly groaning in defeat.

Although you couldn’t see him, you could tell Brad was fidgeting slightly from where he stood in the doorway. The rain pattered onto the pavement outside, but you could hear the slight rustle of whatever sweater he was wearing, the tapping of his shoe on the carpeted floor, the liquid he swirled around in his mug. Eventually he spoke.

“Did you…” He trailed off, clearly reluctant. “Did you need a ride?”

Your brows furrowed, again, against the cold desk. “Really?” You were in disbelief as you sat up in your chair. “The infamous Brad Bakshi, greedy, heartless bastard of MQ, offering to give a ‘lowly writer’ a ride? Is this real? Am I on a prank show? Where are the cameras?” You gave him an exaggerated gasp as you quickly whipped your head around the room and spun around in your chair.

“Do you want that car ride or not?” His blank expression said it all. Brad was not amused.

“Fine, fine, just let me get my stuff real quick.”

Brad walked briskly, not waiting for you to catch up as he practically sprinted through the staff parking structure. “Pick up the pace, writer.”

You grumbled little insults under your breath so he wouldn’t hear, and began walking faster to keep up. “Fine, ‘homie.’”

The two of you eventually got to his car. It was nothing too extravagant. Fairly generic, but sleek enough for his taste.

[I’m so sorry I don’t know or remember what car Brad drives/would drive – if anyone has an answer for this please hmu LMAO. I feel like it would be either silver, blue, or black (some of the most generic car colors but with somewhat deeper connection to him as a person/character).]

The inside smells faintly like an air freshener but more like something more comfortable and just there. Somewhat like dust, but not unpleasantly so. You get into the passenger seat as Brad gets into the driver’s. He hands you his phone, already open to a navigation app for you to put your address into. You begin doing so, but a weather advisory appears. At the same time, you can feel your own phone vibrate inside your bag, presumably giving you the same notice. “Harsh rain and possible storms in the general LA area. Staying home is recommended.” it read. Brad leans over a little, just to see the notification.

“Hm. Would have been nice to know before I left for work this morning.” You scoffed, a little weary but continuing to type your address before you gave him his phone back.

He took it and began the route, the two of you leaving the parking structure in silence. It was a little uncomfortable, you had to admit, but not for long.

“If you want music you can put something on. Just connect your phone with bluetooth.” Brad said softly.

It was unexpectedly quiet and gentle, a stark contrast to his normal brash demeanor.

“Oh, okay.”

You pressed some things on the dashboard, before connecting your phone and playing some of your favorite music. It didn’t seem like Brad had much of an opinion on it. Rain continued to patter on the windshield as the car was stagnant.

“Thanks, by the way.” You kind of blurted out, but it was genuine. “I forgot to say it earlier, but it means a lot.”

His response was brief. “It’s whatever.”

The temporary silence returned. Another buzz sounded from your phones. Rather than taking yours out, you just leaned over to look at Brad’s phone. Another notice, but this time a warning. “Expected storms within next twelve hours. Power outages in some areas of LA and southern California. It is advised to stay off the roads during this time frame.”

“Shit.” You murmured, clearly more worried now. “My apartment’s still another ten minutes away because of the traffic…”

“Yep.” Brad was still stoic.

“Hey, by the way, where do you live? Are you far away from here? ‘Cause I don’t want you to have to drive to my apartment and then all the way back if it’s like the opposite direction.”

“It’s like five minutes away from MQ.”

You were silent for a moment, out of disbelief. “What?”

“Yeah. I live five minutes away.”

“And you don’t just walk?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause.”

“God, Brad, you’re such a-”

“An environmentally apathetic asshole? Self-centered douchebag? Lazy bum? I’ve heard it all and I really couldn't care less.”

“Okay, but seriously, I don’t want you to, like, hydroplane and-or get into an accident on the way back to your place. You might as well just drop me off here and turn back now.”

Brad turned to you, an eyebrow raised and head cocked slightly to the side. “As ‘on-brand’ that would be for me, that’s an actual asshole move, and I don’t want your death to be on my hands if you get swept up and away by some random gust of wind.”

“Oh, wow, so he does have a heart.” You quipped.

Brad rolled his eyes again, looking out at the cars in front of you. “As much as I hate to admit it, yes, I do. All humans do, because it pumps blood throughout their fucking bodies. I thought you were smarter than this, writer.”

“You know what I mean. I’m not that much of a dumbass.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh, my god, just… shut up. Also are you not in any way worried about our current situation? We’re bound to get into an accident at this rate, we need to get to our places as soon as we possibly can.”

“Okay, well, the traffic to get to your apartment is still not clearing up, so if you’re so worried, I’ll drop you back off at MQ and then I’ll head to my house.”

You shook your head at the notion, groaning. “No, no, no, no, I can’t stay at MQ overnight…”

Brad turned back to look at you. A strange hint of a smile graced his lips as he scoffed.

“What happened to ‘I’ll wait the rain out even if it means I have to sleep at my desk?’”

You felt the heat of embarrassment rise up your neck and to your cheeks, turning away from him and facing the window to avoid eye contact. “I don’t know, I didn’t think I’d actually have to do it. Especially after you offered me a ride! And now we’re in the car, it seemed pretty unlikely that it would still be happening.”

For the first time in you ever knowing him (your two years at MQ), Brad Bakshi laughed. It wasn’t one of his sarcastic chuckles, nor a strained noise, but a genuine laugh. You had a puzzled look on your face, and whipped your head around to see him. His eyes were shut, he was slightly hunched over, and his smile was clear as day. He continued to laugh–presumably at you–but for once, you didn’t mind. The sight was a joy to see. Sure, Brad was an asshole, but he had his moments. A smile of your own crept its way onto your face as you watched him laugh for a few seconds longer. As his laughter wound down, a sudden crack of lightning flashed across the sky, a rumble of thunder following immediately after, startling the both of you.

“Shit!” You hissed, jumping in your seat. “Okay, okay, we really need to get to safety, like… now. This shit is actually dangerous, Brad. I don’t want you getting injured or worse because of my lack of preparation. If you really need to drop me off at the office on your way to your place, that’s… fine.”

Although unhappy that the start of your weekend would be ruined by having to sleep over in your office building, you figured it would be better than causing Brad to get stuck in the storm. You awaited his response, once again watching him as he thought for a moment.

Suddenly, he let out a quiet groan, tilting his head down, leaning his forehead lightly against the wheel. “I can’t believe I’m about to offer this to you, of all people, but if you’re so god damn worried about my safety… I have a guest room at my house.”

His sudden generosity confuses and delights you. It’s strange, that’s for sure, but it’s a welcome surprise.

“Really?”

“Why else would I have said it?” It was a question but it came out as more of a statement.

“I don’t know, it’s just… weird. Not to say that I don’t accept, but it’s oddly kind of you. Not something commonly associated with the image of Brad Bakshi.”

He shrugged. “I know. So do you accept or not?”

“I do, thank you so much.” You spoke quickly, hoping he wouldn’t rescind the offer. “I’m sorry to cause you so much inconvenience.”

“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry you’re so dumb that you didn’t prepare a way back home.”

“Oh, my god.”

#tea writes #🌱🫖 anon #brad bakshi x reader #brad bakshi #mythic quest #mq #apple tv #danny pudi #abed nadir #abed nadir x reader #sorry those last two are kind of clickbait but I need reach #x reader #mythic quest fanfiction #mythic quest x reader #mq x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #mythic quest fanfic

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partially-controlled-chaos · 1 month

Text

WIP Wednesday Thursday because I forgot to post this last night

Once again coming in with a WIP Wednesday because I still haven't finished this chapter of New Life Shall Prosper. Hopefully I should have this posted by the end of the week or early next week, depending on my work schedule.

Admittedly I've also been working on a completely separate fluffy Halsin oneshot that's taken my attention away from this, but I had to start writing that one because it's consumed my thoughts lately.

When the excitement from the birth had calmed and you had gotten settled in your bed, you finally felt the exhaustion from the previous days settle in your bones. Despite the immediate healing potions you’d consumed and spells that had been conjured offered you temporary relief and mending, your body would still need time to heal and adjust; magic could only do so much. Although that was admittedly a thought you’d pushed to the back of your mind for now as your mind was consumed by nothing but the small bundle nestled closely to your chest.

You yawned deeply, trying your best to stay awake to take in every sweet moment you could with your newly delivered little one. They were pressed against you, taking their first feeding from you since the delivery, as you observed every little detail they offered. Admittedly, you were surprised with just how small they were, considering the sheer looming size Halsin presented and just how hard you had labored, you’d anticipated a rather large baby. Instead, your child was remarkably tiny, but perfectly healthy. The labor had been agonizing and painful, but you found that the reward that came from your efforts was far greater than any amount of discomfort or pain you had tolerated. In this moment, everything was perfect and you wanted nothing more than to spend eternity cradling your child.

“Hello there, little one.” You whispered as their eyes opened briefly, placing a soft kiss to the forehead. A beautiful mixture of blue and gold swirled in their eyes, a coloring that was distinctly Halsin’s, and were framed by unusually long lashes. For a moment, you felt as if you were gazing into his own, a pleasant warmth spreading across your chest. You gently ran your finger along the short distance from their forehead to the tip of their nose, marveling at just how soft their skin was, before brushing a few strands of hair to the side. Tiny ears came to the most perfect of points and twitched slightly at the warm breeze lazily coming through the window.

Once they had their fill, you gently wiped their mouth with the edge of the blanket before settling them back high on your chest and surrounding them in warmth. Tears prickled the corners of your eyes as you heard the tiny grunts and mewls coming from your newborn, already finding it to be your favorite sound in the world. You felt their small hand grasp at your skin and you quickly offered a finger to the baby, smiling when you saw the tiny fingers barely wrap around your slender digit. You adored the tiny fingers in your grasp, softly placing another kiss to them before returning them under the blanket. Euphoria and bliss were the only words you could use to describe how you felt, but they paled in comparison to the true feelings swirling in your chest.

As always, this is unedited and could change once I get the final draft up. Thank you to everyone who had enjoyed this fic so far! Planning on having one more chapter after this one because I don't want it to be too long.

Tag List: @incrediblethirst @reignydeys @thoughts-of-bear @im-eating-rn @beardedladyqueen @simplysaying @emorylovescats @distelsterncat @cryingoverpixelsetc @knightofmight01

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #halsin #halsin x reader #reader x halsin #gender neutral reader #daddy halsin #halsin romance #halsin brainrot #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #halsin fluff #halsin fanfic

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