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upsidedownmvnson · 8 months

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tell me you love me | steve harrington

warnings: fluff (warning lol) friends to lovers, idiots to lovers,

a/n: i actually really loved this <3 i hope you do too

tell me you love me vol 2

Steve Harrington had already tried twice in his life to confess his love for you.

The first time, you two were in the tenth grade and you had just accepted stupid Jack Warren's invitation to prom, so Steve didn't bother. That was back when he was settling into popularity anyway, so he got over it pretty quickly. He was dating Cathy Bartlett the next week.

The second time, Robin had made him pinky promise not to date you. She had held him down, sat on his back and twisted his arm until he pinky swore that he wouldn't do anything to destroy the delicate ecosystem of the friend group. There was already one awkward ex-situation in there.

But Robin was right, you were not like the girls he normally dated. If things went wrong he wouldn't be able to just sweep it under the rug, it could have painful ramifications for all his friends. Although... he didn't actually think it would go that bad. Steve would find his mind wandering on the idea often. He pictured the two of you in the kitchen, side by side cooking dinner and talking about your day. When he thought of you, it felt like home. It felt like somewhere he could build a house and live forever.

If he could only get the words out, he'd realize how quickly you'd accept him. He'd realize he wasn't the only one of you that was stupid in love.

You had been in love with Steve since you could remember. But never once thought he'd shared your interest, not with all the girls around him all the time. The way he shines in their attention and basks in their praise, it's enough to make you sure he's happy with how it is. Or he probably wouldn't have told you all about his date with Debbie Dabbenthorn, right?

Tonight, you, Nancy and Robin were at a party. Something Steve desperately tried to make not happen. But he was working, so there was no one to stop you girls from coaxing each other into drink after drink, which you always did. The three of you always drank too much, and Steve always got stuck trying to coral you and Robin into his car.

At the party, Nancy was handing you another red cup filled to the brim, sloshing over the side and coating your fingers. You hadn't noticed.

"I love when we ditch the boys," Nancy said, smiling as she sipped out of her own solo cup. "It's so fun!"

"Same," Robin said, slinging her arm around Nancy's shoulers, making the two of them sway and laugh. They caught their balance and cheered drinks. "Hey, help me find the bathroom!"

It wasn't hard to find, but it was hard for all three of you to get there without knocking into each other, but it didn't matter. The three of you giggled the whole way, laughing too hard over barely anything. Enjoying the simple joy of being with your friends on a party.

The line for the bathroom was short, only a few people deep. Nancy was grilling Robin on her love life while Robin evaded every question with a vague answer, soon, she turned it onto you, focusing Nancy on the other singler girl in the group.

"Do you not think anyone is cute at least?" Nancy said, not quite believing you when you say you didn't have a crush on anyone at the moment. You shrugged, trying to avoid admitting that it was her ex boyfriend that really turned your head. Robin chuckled, and slid into the bathroom.

You started sipping your drink when Nancy asked, "Not even Steve?" and you nearly choked, but you coughed once and composed yourself. You stared at her, confused as to why she would bring him up.

"You don't have to say anything," she said, and you looked into your cup, noting that you'd need a replacement after this trip. "But it would be okay with me."

Robin opened the bathroom door again, reassembling the trio be throwing her arms around both of your shoulders. "New drinks!" she cheered, steering you all in the direction of the kitchen.

"Drink up," Nancy giggled, "and then let's dance!"

So that's what you did, you guys drank and danced and had a great time. Until Jonathan came to pick up Nancy. That's when you saw that it was after nine, so Steve should've been on the way to come collect you and Robin from your drunken outing. You told Robin again how nice it was for Steve to come get you.

"But c'mon, you love him right?" Robin asked, laughing at your shock.

"I do not love him," you argued, but you did. Robin shrugged, but didn't look convinced. "He just is beautiful, that's all."

"Nah," she said, brushing off the idea with a wave of her hand. "You just love him."

"Do not," you mumbled. But Robin already leaned the other way when Vicki walked up to talk to her. You leaned further into the couch, the ugly thing was very comfortable. Steve should be there any minute.

"Hey," Robin whispered, "Vicki invited me to go with her friends to the lake... Are you gunna be okay here? You're not too drunk are you? Because if you think you can't stay awake, I'll stay of course..."

"Robin, go! I'll be fine for like two minutes..." you slurred, you were pretty drunk but Steve really was going to be there any second.

"Okay!" she didn't have to be told twice before she was scrambling after Vicki in her love-drunk haze. Or maybe just regular drunk, but Robin was feeling giddy anyway.

Steve was running behind because he lost the address that Robin had given him. She'd just ripped off a corner of a piece of paper, and Steve had lost it at some point in his shift. When he finally found the place he was thirty minutes behind.

When he got inside you were curled up on the couch alone, snoozing while some couple made out next to you in the spot Robin had vacated. He smiled when he saw you, and took a knee next to you, trying to wake you up nicely. He stroked your cheek, and tucked some hair behind ear, making you stir softly in your slumber.

"Time to get up," Steve said, "Where's Robin?"

"Went with Vicki," you whispered, rubbing your eyes, smudging whatever makeup wasn't already ruined from the dancing.

"Well, how mean of her to leave you here all alone," he said, running his thumb along your cheek again. "Can't trust you guys alone now though, she did leave you to fall asleep at a house party. That's like really bad, I'm mad at her."

You made a soft noise in response, his stern voice was, not so stern. He smiled at you, and you couldn't help but notice how beautiful he was. Leaning close to you, rubbing your cheek, hair falling perfectly on his forehead and you just wanted to reach up and brush it away like he did. But your hands were wedged under your head, and you were afraid that if you stirred even an inch, he would leave, and this moment would be over.

"Guess you'll just have to make sure you come with us next time," you whispered, eyes bloodshot and glossy from all the alcohol. He thought you were the most beautiful girl in the room. The party was still raging around him, and he easily could've found a place within the girls, but he was content in this moment with you. Your eyes started feeling heavy, and you couldn't stop them from constantly fluttering shut.

“C'mon let me help you up babe,” Steve said, aiding your drunk figure. The nickname made your stomach flip. You were dead weight, giggling as he took care of you and grabbed your things and still found the patience to be kind to you, musing like he was interested in all your drunk babble.

“You're just so pretty, Stevie, it's stupid,” you cooed, finding a place beside him with his arms around you for balance as he lead you, slowly, to his car.

"D-Don't say that stuff," Steve said, voice cracking at the beginning. You were drunk, and it was dark, but you still noticed the blush on Steve's cheeks, and you smiled.

He opened the door for you, and you commented, "so romantic," while holding your hand over your heart, and Steve's heart raced. He went around the trunk of his car to get another second of fresh air, if you saw him in the light you were sure to see the heat he felt in his neck and cheeks. You were flirting with him, and he couldn't contain his excitement every time you complimented him, looking up at him with those beautiful eyes.

The entire trip was like that. From the moment he was in the car you were just a loose cannon of compliments and praises. This combination of him sober and you drunk has never happened while alone before. Were you this flirty with him when he was drunk too?

The answer was yes. The real reason Nancy knew you really wanted Steve was because whenever you two are drunk and together you look like you're in love... because you are. Holding hands, head on shoulder, legs across laps, big bright smiles that made everyone think you were truly, madly, deeply in love. Everything that's just a little too friendly, but never crossing that silly little line that kept you both under the umbrella of just friends.

You were a delight in his passenger seat. He only wished you spoke like this when you were sober, because then maybe he'd know for sure you love him too.

"Hey Steve?" you asked, voice coming out as almost a purr in your sleepy state. Steve's heart melted. "Can I hold your hand?"

"Yeah," he answered, clearing his throat and moving his hand over to your lap, intertwining your fingers. Your hands were cold to the touch, but all you felt was the comforting warmth of him. You were both smiling, goofy grins to match the butterflies in your stomach. "You can hold my hand whenever you like."

You made another happy hum, but said nothing else. The ride was short. No words exchanged, just the quiet songs on the radio, turned low to let you drift off in the passenger seat.

When you got to his house, he parked the car, looking at you. He didn't want to wake you. And he didn't want to let go of your hand. Maybe he should just stay in the car all night.

Of course he didn't do that. Steve weaseled his way out of your grip, not bothering to hide how pleased he was that you whined at the loss of his touch. he helped you out of the car, encouraging you to climb on his back for "an express ride to the VIP bathroom," and he delivered, carrying you, all dead weight and giggling, to the bathroom where he left you to clean up. You put on the clothes he delivered, Plaid pajama pants and a big grey shirt. Well, you put the shirt on, the pajama pants were thrown into the tub, because you couldn't be forced to wear pants.

"Steeeeeve," you slurred, leaving the bathroom, giggling and bumping into the doorframe.

Steve was standing in the doorway to his room, wearing only blue plaid pj pants. His torso on glorious display, while he stood frozen at the sight of you. You stretched your arms over your head, and the shirt rose, exposing your panties to him. He nearly choked looking at you.

"Can I sleep in your room?" you asked, smiling at the effect you had on him. "Look how cute I am," you said, turning around and lifting the shirt while bending over slightly, giving him a perfect view of your ass, with the panties laying deliciously over your cheeks.

"Jesus," he muttered, unable to look away but trying to force himself to. He shouldn't be sneaking a peak while you were this drunk, but in his defence you were the one showing him. "Come to bed, just put your shirt down."

"It's your shirt," you teased, obeying him anyway. You danced behind him into the room, and crawled into bed. It smelled so good, it smelled like him. You could've stayed by Steve's side under these blankets forever.

You lay facing Steve, in his overly big, overly comfortable bed, too tired and drunk to keep your eyes open, but you still try. Steve smiles at your determination to stay awake, he watches your eyes blink quickly, trying to shake the sleep away.

You want to reach over and intertwine your hands, you don’t. He wants to reach out and brush the hair off your forehead and behind your ear, he doesn’t.

“Are we in love, Steve?”

The sharpness of your question cuts him, wounding him in a way he didn’t know was possible. He wanted to speak, but there were no words. No charismatic come back, and no way to avoid the lingering question in the air. Steve holds his tears back. He really did love you.

When your eyes peak open, he’s nodding. His eyes filled with tears that he refuses to let you see, but you see. "Yeah, I think so."

“Why is it so sad?”

“Because we're best friends," he said, "and I can't lose you."

"Tell me you love me," you whispered, silly mood replaced with a tight feeling in your throat, like you were going to cry. But you held it back.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too."

He wanted to cry. He wanted to kiss you. But instead, he just sighed, and found your hand under the sheets, and held it tightly. He was frozen. This was his dream come true, so why did it feel like a nightmare? Like you were right there, but he couldn't have you. Like he was doomed to stay in love with you, and never actually get to be with you.

“I will still love you in the morning whether I say it or not, Stevie.” Your eyes finally started winning the battle, and they stayed closed more than they stayed open, too heavy too fight.

"I know babe," he said, watching as you breathing changed and your eyes didn't open again. "I will too."

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines

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whiskygoldwings · 2 months

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The Tattooist

The first clone trooper client she tattoos is an act of remembrance.

The man stands forlorn and desperate in the reception area, his borrowed clothes fitting poorly on his slumped frame. His face is tight, like a man on the edge of screaming, holding it back by the skin of his teeth. She recognises this pain, and quickly ushers him into her workroom, calling for A'maa to take the front desk while she speaks to a client. He breaths slightly easier once they are no longer in public, and she gestures for him to sit on the well-worn sofa she reserves for guests.

“I haven't got many credits,” he admits straight up. “They don't exactly pay us. I just wanted to see what could be done for what I have.”

She nods and grabs a pad and stylus, settling herself into her armchair and crossing her legs. “Tell me what you want and how much you've got and I'll see what I can do.”

He swallows painfully, and reaches into his pocket. “I have exactly 134 credits,” he holds a handful of ingots, and she glances down before looking back at his face. “I looked you up; I know it's not much in terms of tattoos. It's just... It's all I could scrape together...” he stumbles over his words, embarassment curling his lips.

“And what you want?” She interrupts, halting his ashamed attempts at explaining himself.

He takes a deep breath, grimaces, then sighs. “My brother was killed in the last battle. His name was Star. The long-necks... The Kaminoans I mean, never let us mourn each other where they could see. But he's my brother. We were born of the same batch, he helped me when I struggled with the maths tests, we had each others backs... I have a million odd brothers, but he was mine...” He presses his thumb and forefinger into his tightly-shut eyes, choking back a sob. “I want to honour him forever. I want to carry him with me, in a way they can't take away from me.” At this he straightens, bringing his hand down to stare at her determinedly. “They can make us wash our armour off, take our possessions from us. They will have to flay my skin from me if they want to take this.”

She stares back, stylus against her lips, and feels a swell of righteous fury in her throat. She's always had a mild force-sensitivity. Not enough to make training her of any worth, but enough that she can get a feel of a person, enough she can get a taste of their emotions.

This is a proud, strong man. And he is not broken by the hardships he faces, as much as he should be.

She will honour his brother with him.

The design practically leaps from her stylus, as she coaxes little stories from him. Little tales of his brother. His name was Star, he tells her first, and she sketches the rough outlines of one. He named himself, the man tells her, not giving his own name. Named himself after the balls of fury in the universe that were always out of their reach of Kamino. He laughs quietly, painfully, as he tells her the first time they had snuck out on a rainless night, when there was a brief respite in the clouds of Kamino, and by chance, there was a meteor shower over head. They'd all been amazed, confused and delighted by the sight, their little squad of five. One of the trainers, a kind man named Kal, had chuckled and told them “That'll be a shooting star” when they ask him about the phenomena, and Star had whispered to him in their bunks that night that he had decided on his name.

“I used to call him a shooting Star when we were in sims,” the man admits, a crooked grin on his face. “He kicked me in the shin for it once. Think he actually kinda liked it though.”

She adds a trail of dust behind it.

“He was so proud of being an ARF,” the man whispers. “So proud when I was nominated for ARF training alone with him. I was never as good as him, but he always took me with him, wherever he went. When the Commander told us we were getting the training, he basically hugged him. The Commander just gave him a pat on the back and told him never to do it again or he'd demote him quick as sithspit” the man snorts. “He didn't mean it, but Star'd never moved so bloody quick back into a salute, I couldn't help laughing at him, the idiot.”

She tabs out and finds a reference for an ARF troopers helmet on the 'net, and draws the trail of star dust bursting out of it and curling round to meet with the star itself.

“Our battallion wears green. Mainly olive-green. The commander started it, reminds him of the General I suspect. We became Green Company.”

The dust trail gathers sprinkles of olive green, the Star limned in the colour. She hesitates for a moment, then asks. “What markings did he wear?”

The man startles; she'd been loath to bring him out of his memories, but she wants to make it accurate. Needs to make it accurate really. She can feel how important this piece is to the man, and she finds herself strongly opposed to disappointing him.

“He had two stars on the left hand side of his helmet, one within the other.” The man indicates a point on his crown, above his ear. “And his visor was lined in green. He had a stripe vertically down the right hand side, ending just under the visor itself. On his chest piece...”

She lets him continue detailing his armour, drawing another star in olive green within the big one, then delicately tipping the helmet to conceal where the star would have been on the left. She's good, but it would have been too small to depict without potentially bleeding into a solid line, and she doesn't want that to happen. Instead, she marks in the line on the right-hand side, and ensures the big star is representative of what she imagines was on the helmet.

He's trailed off, staring sightlessly at his hands in his lap. She doesn't want to shake him, suspects alarming a trained soldier out of his own mind would be a bad idea. Instead, she uncrosses her legs, and clears her throat lightly. He glances up at her, and she smiles and extends the pad to him.

“Is something like this what you had in mind?”

He blinks at her, than reaches over and takes the pad. She sees the moment when he takes in the image. His eyes widen, and a tear he's been holding back since well before he got here slides down his cheek. He presses his fist into his mouth, other hand shaking where it holds the pad and he nods, clenching his eyes shut. “y-yes... Oh yes...” He stammers, voice thick.

“Where would you like it?”

“Over my heart,” he whispers. “I will carry him always in my heart.”

She stands abruptly, making him jump slightly and reaches out for the pad. “Okay, shirt off and lie down on the bed for me please. I assume as a clone trooper you're routinely screened for any blood diseases?” He nods, standing up with a slightly dazed expression on his face. She nods back and turns away, beginning the ritual of preparing her inks. She's playing a game of avoidance now, knows she won't take this man's money, and if she can keep him from asking about it she may be able to get it finished before he finds out. She suspects he'd do the honourable thing and refuse to get the tattoo. It'll be harder for him to do if it's halfway done. And while normally she'd insist on a full disclosure form and signature, she gets the feeling having no hardcopy evidence of what is about to happen will be a very good idea. The pad will need reformatting after she's done, but she's been required to do that for other clients who want their body art to be completely untraceable, so she doesn't store anything of any import on it for long anyway. She hears the rustle of cloth behind her and smiles slightly to herself, pleased at a plan going well. “Would you tell me more about him please?”

The man takes a deep breath behind her, even as she hears the bed creak as he clambers onto it. “He was always good at slipping by unnoticed. It's how he kept us both out of trouble back in training...”

She finishes mixing up the colours she needs as he begins to tell her about their childhood, what little of it there was. Checks her machine and cleans the patch of skin above his heart as he laughs about a prank played on one of their batchmates. It warms her and chills her at the same time, realising how little they had, but what great things they made of what they did. She prints out the stencil and places it over his chest as he whispers about Star easing him through the tail end of a nightmare, checking quietly that he's happy with the position before pressing the needle to his skin. He breaths in through his nose once when she starts, and she glances up at him, but he smiles and continues on into a story about when they first met their Jedi, and how Star gushed about her afterwards. She sinks into the meditative process of stamping lines into being, bringing colour to life, all the while surrounded by the man's soft voice building a memorial to his brother in their room.

When it's finished, the man looks surprised. “I thought it would take longer than that?” He blinks at her, “And be more painful in all honesty.”

She grins, “You did your research well hon, I'm good at what I do.”

He laughs and sits up, wincing slightly as the skin stretches around the wound. She squirts cleaner onto a cloth and holds it towards his chest, pausing before touching the tattoo for him to give a nod of permission, then wipes carefully across it, removing excess ink and stencil gently. Looking it over critically, she's happy with what she's done, knows she's poured herself into this tattoo as well. The lines are clean and crisp, the colours deep and rich. The helmet tilts up to look at the star above it, the trail of stardust sweeping behind it and curling up to emerge from the opening of the helmet at the bottom. Olive green accents in the tail, the line over the right-hand side of the helmet and around the visor, and the outer and inner two stars. She nods to herself, and grins up at him. “Ready to see it?”

He swallows nervously, but nods. She feels her grin quirk into a proper smile, then holds out her hand to him. He looks at it for a second, then places his own in hers, and she helps pull him from the bed. She keeps hold of his hand as she guides him to the full length mirror just beside the couch, and gently pulls him to stand infront of it. The hand in hers trembles as he stares at his reflection, taking a moment on his own face to gather his courage, then looks down at his chest.

The noise that punches out of his lungs is almost animal, and she grips his hand tightly. He cries openly, other hand reaching up to hover just under the tattoo as he looks down at his own chest. It's several moments before he can say anything, and she stands next to him the whole time, holding his hand as he clenches onto hers. He cries and cries, grief finally allowed expression, as she gives him silent comfort in proximity. His first words are “thank you”, and she smiles at him, as he starts to collect himself and turns away from her to try and pull himself back together.

“I'll give you a few minutes to check it over and make sure you're happy before I bandage it up,” she murmers, and steps quietly out of the room, giving him privacy in his sorrow.

A'maa glances up at her as she steps out, raising an eyebrow. Strictly speaking, she wasn't supposed to be working today, and she hadn't considered that A'maa might have had to turn away one of her own clients when she committed to tattooing the man. But A'maa glances over at the door to her workroom and shakes her head. “Don't worry about it Elaah,” she whispers, “Whatever it was, it was clearly important.”

“Yes,” Elaah whispers back, walking over to cradle herself in A'maa's outstretched arm, seeking the comfort of her own found family. “Yes, it really was.”

It's a few more minutes before the man opens the door, glancing around the edge of it. She quickly cuts off her conversation with A'maa and smiles at him. “Ready to get bandaged up?”

He nods and smiles, face a little blotchy from the tears, though neither she nor A'maa say anything. She gives A'maa's shoulder a quick squeeze, then heads into the room, leaving the door ajar this time. The man stands infront of the mirror again, gazing down at his new ink, and she quickly grabs the bits she needs to finish off. He smiles at her as holds the fake skin bandage up to his chest, carefully sizing it up to fit nicely over the tattoo.

“How much do I owe you?” he asks, and she shakes her head.

“Nothing hon, you paid me in stories.”

He protests immediately, as she suspected he would. “Too late hon!” she grins at him. “It's already on your skin and I'll throw your credits out onto the street after you if you try leaving them behind. Good luck winning this one!” She winks and pats him on the shoulder, turning away to grab his top and thrusting it into his abdomen. He grabs it and gapes at her, clearly not quite sure what to say, before straightening and flashing a sheepish grin at her.

“You planned this from the start didn't you?” He asks, pulling the top over his head and rolling his eyes as she throws him a cheeky wink and nods.

“I've got to give you something, this means so much to me... You have no idea...” He gulps and shakes his head, blinking fresh tears out of his eyes. “Tell you what, I'll make sure anyone else who might be thinking of getting some ink heads this way?”

She shrugs. “I'm not going to turn down customers, but you don't owe me anything. I just hope you think of Star whenever you see it.”

“I will,” he murmurs, a hand going to rest over where the tattoo sits over his heart. He glances up at her. “My name is Trix. I just... wanted you to know that.”

She smiles at him, and gently rests a hand over his own. “Thank you Trix.” she says, smiling up at him, “Thank you for everything you and your brothers do for us.”

He grasps her hand with his other one and squeezes it tightly for a moment, before turning around and walking out the shop.

#the clone wars #clone troopers #fanfic #fanfiction #feels #tattoos #tattoos as healing #star wars #oc characters #also posted to ao3 #CentrauGuardian

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seravphs · 10 months

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ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — TEEN DAD! GOJO x FEM READER

Gojo realizes that adopting Megumi doesn’t just entail calling himself a DILF as a joke. It has responsibility. He doesn’t know how to live with that.

wc — 1k

tags — hurt/comfort, coping with recent chapters/leaks, spoilers for anime onlys, title from Runaway by Aurora, somewhere in the timeline of teen dad gojoverse, in which you and Gojo raise Megumi together

Gojo doesn’t see the point of road trips. He can get there and back in an instant, so there’s no point.

But you like commutes, and Megumi likes what you like, so it’s two to one. Gojo tries to angle for his vote counting as three, being the savior of the Jujutsu world and all, but Megumi is already climbing in the car without him. If there’s anything Gojo hates more in the world than being ignored, it’s being left out, so he’s climbing in too, acting as if it was his plan all along.

Halfway in, Gojo cracks like you knew he would. Somehow, road trips are just the perfect vehicle for heart-to-heart conversations. The monotony of the highways create an itch for vulnerable conversations. That, and Gojo has a bad habit of blurting out whatever’s on his mind anyway. He’s never learned the meaning of the word filter.

“I don’t know how to be a dad,” Gojo admits. “I don’t even know if I want to be one.”

You turn to double check that Megumi’s actually asleep before you give him an admonishing look. He should’ve checked first.

“See,” he says. “This is what I mean.”

“It’s okay, Satoru,” you say. “We’re still learning. This is new.”

“I’m not ready. I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

“Me neither,” you admit. “I’m so scared I’m going to mess this up.”

Gojo laughs. “And here I thought you knew everything.”

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you. It stretches for a few miles as you turn the conversation over in your head, trying to think through the answer.

“How do we do this?” Gojo whispers. “This is a kid. I can’t- what I usually do isn’t going to work. If we fuck up, we fuck him up.”

You know what he means. Every mistake feels irreversible. Some days, you want nothing more than to take Megumi back to campus and demand Yaga do something about it, even though you feel guilty immediately afterwards. This responsibility weighs heavy on your shoulders.

“I don’t know, Satoru. We just have to try. The other option-“

“There’s no other option,” he says, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I’m not giving him to the Zenins. He deserves to be a kid.”

“I agree with you.”

“Sorry. I know you wouldn’t. I just- Sorry.”

Without looking, you reach over and pat his knee lightly, accepting his apology. It’s alright. You understand.

He’s silent for a while. Then he says, “You missed the exit.”

It throws off your calculations for estimated arrival by nearly thirty whole minutes, but somehow Gojo finds that he doesn’t mind, even though this is the perfect opportunity for him to say I told you so.

Megumi is still sleeping in the back when you stop. Gojo opens the passenger door just in time to catch him as he slumps forward, having been leaning against it. He stirs a little, but goes right back to sleep after twitching like a puppy.

“Come on,” he coaxes, “time to get up. We’re here.”

Megumi snuffles a little. He must still be half asleep, because he raises his head just enough to place himself over Gojo’s shoulder and wrap his arms around his neck. Megumi’s still young. He still remembers what it’s like to be carried by his father, especially when he’s dreaming.

Gojo freezes, caught in this awkward hug that Megumi would never willingly be giving while awake. You laugh at the face he’s making. Carefully, gently, one hand goes to Megumi’s back. He scoops him up to carry him out of his seat, holding him as you lock the car.

Somewhere in the future, Gojo Satoru steps onto the battlefield and knows he’s going to have to kill his boy. He only hopes to bring his body home for Yuuji, for the woman he loves, and for himself. Megumi deserves at least that much from him.

Here, in the present, Gojo cradles this little body in his arms, more fragile than anything he’s ever been allowed to hold before, and feels his heart swell with an emotion he can’t quite name. All he can do is hold on, gripping your hand as he gives himself over to a force greater than himself for the first time.

There’s a rising sense of panic in his throat. He’s never been in charge of something so small. It feels as if he’s holding the world in the palm of his hands and it terrifies him. He looks at you, pleading. Asking you to take it from him. It’s too much.

He’s the strongest, but his heart feels stretched to its limits. It’s hard to breathe with how much he feels in this moment, overwhelming love and a desire to protect. He wants to keep this thing safe from everything in the world that could hurt it. He doesn’t understand what he’s feeling - it hurts.

It hurts so good.

This pain is the most beautiful thing he’s ever felt in his whole life. It’s a holy kind of hurt. It feels like Toji sticking the knife through his throat if he had willingly lowered his head and let it happen. He’s so scared of it, drowning in a riptide he can’t control. He wants you to save him from himself.

He needs you to take this away from him.

This is something he would ruin himself for. He can’t bear it.

You press closer, laying your head on his other shoulder as you wrap your arms around them both. He’s breathing shallowly, trying not to disturb the quiet dreamer in his arms. The burden is enormous, but you don’t take it from him. You shoulder it with him, letting yourself fall into the current too.

It’s humbling to be trapped by a force that Gojo had always thought he would be free from. The first time was bad enough. He had never wanted to experience it again, especially not like this. He made himself strong so he wouldn’t have to feel that vulnerability ever again.

Even the strongest makes mistakes. This feeling is inescapable.

#sera writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader #gojo satoru x fem reader

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strangersmunsons · 2 months

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read 'em and weep #4

you hear some rumors about Eddie.

Chapter 4 Eddie x Bookworm!Reader Series Read Ch. 3 -> Here!

Contains: Eddie x Reader, fem!bookworm!reader, mix of fluff and angst, lots of kisses, reader realizes she may not know as much about Eddie as she thinks she does (but don't worry, they're gonna be fine). Warnings: some nasty remarks are made about Eddie’s reputation. Word Count: ~4.6k I feel bad that all this wait has led to an angstier chapter, but I'm hoping the next part will be written sooner than this one was!

“I disagree.”

“Look, The Shining is really good, I like it! I just don’t think it’s his best book.”

“I’d take more stock in your opinion if you weren’t putting It at the top of your list. Great book, but such a terrible ending.”

Eddie holds a hand up like he’s swearing an oath. “I’ll admit that it isn’t a perfect book, but it’s still some of the best writing Stephen King’s ever done.” Then he grimaces. “The notable exception being that…one scene in the sewer, um…I don’t really think it needed to be in there.”

Your nose wrinkles in distaste, knowing exactly which scene he’s referring to. “I read that ABC is making a TV show out of it — I’m sure they’ll cut that part out.”

He laughs. “I think he was doing a lot of coke back then.”

Eddie is playing for you chauffeur today. Once again, after a late night he coaxed you into staying over at his place — but instead of just dropping you at home the next morning and then leaving, he waited patiently for you in your living room while you got cleaned up and changed, before driving you to work.

“Although, now that I’m thinking about it,” he muses, “maybe The Stand is number one for me.”

You concur. “Oooh, good one!”

“Did you know,” he exclaims, suddenly excited, dark eyes shining, “that Ride the Lightning by Metallica is a reference to a line from The Stand?”

You search for familiarity in the phrase, and don’t find it. “It is?”

“Yeah, there’s a guy on death row who says it when he’s talking about the electric chair. That's why there's a picture of one on the album."

“Huh. Cool.”

Eddie snubs his cigarette out against the library’s exterior brick wall as you fumble with the keys. When the big double-doors are both unlocked, he pulls one open for you, and you kiss him on the cheek as you breeze past. “Thanks. I’ll see you later, okay?” You pause, and reach back to give his hand a final squeeze. “Have a good day!”

Inside, you make it about halfway to the front desk before you realize that the unmistakable sound of Reeboks squeaking against the floor is following you.

You turn around, bewildered and amused. “Can I help you?”

Eddie just shrugs. “This is a public institution. I’m allowed in.”

“I didn’t realize ‘let me drop you off’ meant ‘let me come to work with you.’ Gosh, aren’t you tired of me yet?”

His reply is immediate. “No.”

The incredible thing is, you actually believe him.

You shake your head in awe. “Eddie Munson, you’re really somethin’, you know that?”

He leans in to kiss you one more time, soft and sweet, but you pull away before it can get too heated, keenly aware of the fact that you’re at your place of work, and that making out in full view of the entire — albeit currently empty — library? Probably a bad look.

Just in time, too, as Marissa was apparently not far behind you. You see the doors open again from over Eddie’s shoulder and the older librarian hurries into the building, low heels clacking noisily against the tile. Her face, which is seemingly-always pinched in annoyance, scrunches even further beneath her dark bangs when she realizes you’re not alone.

“Good morning, Marissa,” you greet her politely.

“We’re technically not open yet,” she spits back, staring pointedly at Eddie. “He can’t be in here.”

You open your mouth to reply, but Eddie beats you to it. “My apologies, ma’am. I was just heading back out.” It’s a remarkably respectful response for Eddie, who you’ve learned has a general distaste for authority, and you know that it’s for your sake.

He gives you the tiniest wave as he walks away, and you return it with a smile, though your heart pangs with each step that takes him further away from you.

After clocking in you make your escape to the children’s area. It’s practically its own library, in a way — it takes up the whole back corner of the building and then some. Hundreds of thin, colorful books are jam-packed onto the shelves, which are built at an intentionally low height. The floor is covered in deep green carpeting, in contrast to the elegant, black-and-white tile that lies in the main library; all the flat surfaces are topped with stuffed animals and puppets and other baubles for the kids to admire and play with.

In the center of it all, there’s a wide space that’s been cleared out for Story Times and various other programs, which is headed by the overstuffed armchair that you like to read from. A number of miniature tables and stools line the side of the area, which are dotted with neatly-placed baskets of craft supplies.

You’re pleased with the theme for the day: amongst the books you’ve chosen there are copies of A Bear Called Paddington and Corduroy ready to go. Markers, buttons, googly eyes, and glue have been set out on the tables, so they can make their own little bears for the craft activity. You’ve taken the initiative of cutting out the teddy shapes from heavy cardstock for them already — one less accident with scissors you need to worry about.

You’re nearly finished setting up when someone clears their throat behind you. Startled, you whirl around to see Marissa again.

“Hello,” you greet her in surprise. She usually lets you do your thing on Saturdays without much interruption. Your take in her expression, a little puzzled; the look on her face suddenly makes you feel like you’re in trouble.

She gives you a tight smile, although it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Hello, dear. Everything going okay?”

“Ye-es…” Your answer drags out uncertainly. “Almost ready here.” You gesture unnecessarily around the room, unsure of what she’s getting at.

“Good, good,” she nods distractedly, not bothering to look and verify that you’re actually doing your job. “Listen, when you finish up this morning, come and find me. I want to have a little chat with you, alright?” Seeing the panic split across your face, she quickly adds, “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. It’s not work-related.”

Your head cocks to the side curiously, but she spins on her heel and leaves before you can ask her to elaborate.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur, Marissa’s request lurking in the back of your mind all the while, though you try to focus on your reading. She’s not really the warm and fuzzy type — somehow you doubt she’s interested in having a little girl-chat.

Some odd-two hours later, when the last of the kids have scampered away, you head cautiously back to the front desk where Marissa and another young clerk are speaking to one another in low voices.

Your coworker sees you approaching from over Marissa’s shoulder, and gives her a subtle nod, warning the older woman of your presence. A hush falls over their conversation, and you feel a stab of annoyance, knowing intuitively that whatever they were talking about, it certainly had something to do with you.

She’s already blabbing to your coworkers about whatever this is? Gross.

Marissa turns to face you, pretending to look surprised at your approach.

“You wanted to see me?” you ask her pleasantly.

Another one of those tight-lipped smiles. “Yes, why don’t you come back here with me.” She moves towards her office, waving for you to follow along. “A little more private in here,” she stage-whispers.

When you’re alone in the tiny room, she shuts the door behind you, and takes a seat at her desk. You perch awkwardly on one of the folding chairs opposite her, clasping your hands on your lap — you feel a little bit like a wayward student in the principal’s office.

“Is…everything okay?” She said it wasn’t work-related, so you don’t have a clue what’s up. Surely if it was about Eddie being in the building before open, she would have reprimanded you earlier, when you were the only two people there. And that would be considered work-related anyway, wouldn’t it?

Marissa doesn’t answer immediately, so you try to be proactive. “If this is about my friend being here this morning, I’m so sorry about that. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Not…exactly.” She purses her lips, not giving anything away.

You blink, and try again. “Um, if this is about the oobleck thing again, I promise I was able to get it off the ceiling. You can check, it’s all clean.”

She almost cracks, a rare flash of amusement in her eyes, though it’s snuffed out quickly.

“It’s not that, either. I want to ask you about how things are going, just in general? I know you’re still pretty new to town. Have you been settling in okay these past few months?”

You think of the warm welcome you received from nearly everyone you’ve met. “Yeah, everything’s great. Everyone’s been really nice.”

She nods slowly, and when she speaks again, her tone is off — you can clock the feigned nonchalance right away. “I’ve noticed Eddie Munson has been here quite often this summer.”

You take this as confirmation of what you had already suspected — that Eddie’s frequenting of the library has more to do with you than anything else, and your lips can’t help but turn up into a fond smile.

“He likes to read,” you offer simply.

She’s more direct this time, eyes locking onto yours from behind her thick lenses. “He spends a lot of time talking to you while he’s here.”

Nervous heat starts to creep up your neck and into your cheeks. Is that what this is about? Has the quality of your work declined since Eddie started visiting you here?

You’ve worried about this before. When your friendship began and he started coming in pretty regularly, you made a point that if Eddie was to be there, the distractions had to be kept to a minimum. He was very understanding about it. And in his defense, he did mostly keep out of your way — he sat and read, and chatted with you when you weren’t busy, or if you happened to be hidden away amongst the shelves working, out of Marissa’s sight. He even helped you clean up the mess left behind by your Storytime kids. But you suppose he had been a presence nonetheless.

Waiting for the hammer to fall, you bow your head. Your job is very important to you — as much as you like Eddie, you don’t want to jeopardize your position or your standing with your boss by having her think you’re boy-crazy. Guiltily, your mind scrambles to find the words for an apology, some promise to do better in the future.

But Marissa doesn’t even go there. And what she says instead startles you right out of your self-deprecating spiral.

“Do you know about Eddie Munson?��

Your head pops back up in surprise, and you stare at her blankly, confused. “Know…what about him?”

“Listen, you’re a nice girl,” she simpers. “You’re a stellar employee — I wouldn’t want anyone else leading Family and Youth Services here. I think you have a lot of potential, and I don’t want you to squander it by getting involved with the wrong sort of people.”

Offense rises in your throat like bile. “Excuse me?”

She holds her hands up in defense. “I’m just trying to look out for your best interests, dear,” she insists. “The Munsons have a reputation in this town — that young man especially —”

“Marissa,” your tone is sharp; she’s treading into dangerous territory.

“He’s a criminal,” she warns. “Jim Hopper is far too soft on him. If he actually got in trouble for every law he broke, he’d be sitting in a jail cell right now.”

You gape at her. “What has he done?” you demand.

Marissa sighs, and takes her glasses off, setting them aside while she massages the bridge of her nose tiredly. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this” — you note that she doesn’t really sound sorry at all — “but he is a drug dealer, and a Satanist, amongst other things. He sells dope to kids and he all but started a cult when he was in high school. The oldest senior in Indiana, by the way,” she adds derisively.

You’re speechless.

She pushes on. “His father was a deadbeat, and in all the time that Eddie Munson has been living in Hawkins, all he’s done is prove that the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, fuming. Her audacity is too appalling for you to have any real reaction to the accusations; and regardless of whether or not those rumors are true, this certainly doesn’t feel like an appropriate way for you to find out about them.

You take a deep breath, and choose your words carefully. “Respectfully, who I choose to associate with outside of work is no one’s business but my own. If you feel like my relationship with him is infringing upon my performance here, then by all means, tell me where I’m lacking, and I’ll improve. But please do not sit here and try to convince me to shun my friend because —” you falter, trying to keep your anger in check, “because of your personal feelings towards him.”

Because you’re a Grade-A bitch who listens to small town gossip.

Marissa settles back in her seat, face impassive. She purses her lips. “Alright. I see your point. But don’t be upset, dear, I’m really only trying to help you.”

“I appreciate your concern,” you lie through gritted teeth.

“But before you make your mind up about him too quickly,” she adds, examining her fingernails casually, “ask him about Chrissy Cunningham.” Her eyes dart slyly up to yours, searching for any hint of recognition at the name.

There isn’t any — you’ve never heard of this person — but there’s an odd swooping sensation in your stomach at the mention of Eddie possibly being involved with another girl. It makes you feel sort of…ill.

But you won’t let your face betray your surprise. You keep your expression neutral, composed. You manage a final nod at Marissa, and rise to leave. She doesn’t say anything to stop you, so you take that as your cue to exit the office, your mind swirling with unanswered questions.

Across town, at the Munson trailer, a Dungeons and Dragons session is set to begin any minute. Dustin Henderson has arrived early with snacks, and is making himself all too comfortable on the squashy sofa.

Hellfire Club had still gone on strong three years after Eddie’s miraculous, long-awaited graduation, due to the combined efforts of the small group of freshmen he recruited in his last year. And it will continue to do so even now that they’re gone, thanks to one Erica Sinclair, who is rumored to be the most brutal Dungeons and Dragons player in the entire Midwest…after Eddie, of course.

Despite the fact that he remained in Hawkins, and that Dustin often begged him to join them, Eddie had respectfully bowed out of any and all Hellfire-related activities after graduating, in an effort to display a modicum of maturity. He didn’t want to be that guy hanging around his old high school because he didn’t have anything better to do.

But as a favor to his favorite kid, Eddie’s DMing their summer campaign as a last hurrah. Just Wheeler, Henderson, Sinclair, and a slightly newer addition — Will Byers, who came after his time, but seems a nice enough kid. It gives the boys a chance to all play together one last time before they part ways.

Eddie hopes they manage to stay friends, despite it all.

“Thanks, Henderson, but I think I’ve got a handle on things,” Eddie says sarcastically.

Dustin gives him an annoyingly-superior look. “I’m just saying, Suzie and I have been in a loving relationship for many years now — if you need any dating advice, I’m your guy.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, and crosses his arms. “Dude, she’s spent almost all the time you’ve known her across the country in Mormonland.”

Purely defensive. He hates to admit it, but Dustin’s right. He and Suzie’s relationship has lasted for a far, far longer time than any fling Eddie’s ever had. But that doesn’t mean he’s gonna sit down and let the little twerp talk to him like he knows something about something.

Little — Dustin Henderson is college-bound, heading off to some fancy private school on a merit scholarship, leaving Hawkins and grabbing life by the balls. He might still be a shrimpy dork, but Eddie’s secretly mourning the impending loss of his young friend.

“So,” continues Dustin, chomping on a Twizzler, lounging back against the cushions, “when do I get to meet her?”

Eddie chuckles, yanking the candy bag across the couch towards himself. “Uh, I don’t know. Whenever she wants to, I guess.”

Dustin snickers. “Would you be mad if I just showed up at her job and ambushed her?”

Eddie cuts his eyes over to the younger boy, wry smirk on his lips. “To be honest, I’m kind of surprised you haven’t done that already.”

“I haven’t been reading much this summer,” Dustin admits. “Too busy trying to cram in a bunch of stuff before we all…” he trails off, gaze growing distant.

“Yeah,” Eddie mutters back. He’s been there.

Dustin coughs. “Anyway, you should invite her to meet us at Benny’s after this. You said you’re picking her up from work, right?”

Eddie thinks it over for a moment, then shrugs. “Sure. I’ll ask her.”

The rickety front door swings open, a trio of laughing teenage boys barging in without bothering to knock. Tall, gangling Mike; Lucas, smiling in his letterman jacket; and Will, hanging back shyly, clutching his player’s handbook.

Eddie can’t help but grin. Dustin cocks an eyebrow at them.

“You assholes ready or what?”

Throughout the entire day, you think about what Marissa told you.

Yes, you’re angry at her for somehow thinking that would be an appropriate conversation for the two of you to have. Yes, you’re upset to hear her say such disparaging things about someone you’ve known to be nothing but sweet and kind. It feels like such an injustice, that Eddie be subjected to such cruel remarks.

But still, there’s a sliver of uncertainty in your heart now, a dark cloud looming in the distance of yours and Eddie’s budding relationship.

When your shift ends, you linger outside by the doors, waiting for Eddie to pick you up. A tiny part of you regrets the decision to let him bring you in to work, but you try and shake the feeling away.

You hate that you’re feeling this way. Internally, you scold yourself for letting Marissa’s words get to you. Why should you listen to what she says, anyway? Don’t you trust that you know him better than she does?

Do you believe Eddie to be a devil-worshipping cult leader? Certainly not. Eddie is a far cry away from what the media makes guys like him out to be. He’s not violent, or practicing any Satanic rituals; he just happens to like scary music and think that fantasy games are cool.

Do you believe Eddie to be a drug dealer? Well, that one, maybe…

Do you believe Eddie to have some sordid past — or, more worryingly, present — with someone named Chrissy Cunningham?

Before you can decide what to think about her, the sound of a wailing guitar drifts through the air, getting louder and louder — finally, a familiar green and white van is turning the corner, Eddie’s dark head, visible through the open windows, bobbing up and down in time with the music.

“Hey!” he shouts with a grin as he approaches the curb, yelling so as to be heard over the noise. With some effort, you smile back. He lowers the tape so it plays at a more bearable volume, as you open the door and climb into the passenger seat.

“Hi,” you greet him.

He leans across the center consol to give you a kiss, one calloused hand cupping your cheek. You can his smell cologne, the sweat beaded on his neck, and a faint smokiness clinging to his curls, you suppose, from his last cigarette; these, combined with how soft and plush his lips feel against yours push the thought of Chrissy Cunningham temporarily from your mind, along with any other thought you may have potentially had in this moment.

Eddie pecks at your lips again and again, then settles back in his seat, letting his hand fall onto your knee. “How was work?”

You squirm uneasily. “It was fine,” you half-lie, not sure what you should tell him.

“Kids behaving?” he asks.

“About as much as I could expect them to,” you sigh.

Eddie gazes at you, his dark eyes curious; you’re normally much more upbeat than this when you see him after a long day. His face brightens when he remembers what he wanted to ask you, thinking that it may cheer you up. “Well, it’s all over with now, right? You’re free. And I had an idea, if you’re up for it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he explains, “I was thinking, I can take you home, or — if you want — you can come get dinner at Benny’s with me and the guys?” He smiles hopefully. “The others are on their way there already. They’re dorks, but they’re good kids, and Dustin has been bugging me to bring you around.”

You think it over. Admittedly, you’ve been dying to see how Eddie acts around his teenage friends. And maybe this is just what you need to dispel your discomfort; a night out with Eddie and his pals, surrounded by people who know and love him.

Eddie senses your hesitation. “We won’t be out too long,” he reassures you, “because I’m working tonight. But still, no pressure if you’re not up for it.”

He leaves the choice up to you, but he’s giving you the puppy dogs. You nod, giving in. “Okay,” you agree. “Sounds like fun.”

Being crammed in a diner booth with five other guys isn’t normally your idea of comfortable, but their raucous laughter and boyish antics make it just that — comfortable. You’re pushed up against the wall, with Eddie pressed into your side, one tatted arm slung over your shoulder. Dustin sits opposite you, with Will and Lucas; Mike occupies the last seat next to Eddie.

The affection between the younger boys is tangible; this is a group of friends who have known each other a long, long time. They all talk at once, interrupting and speaking over one another, unless someone shoots a question at you, in which case, Eddie holds up a hand to silence them all, so your response can be heard.

Eddie interjects every so often, arguing playfully and poking fun at them, but he mostly watches with amusement, letting them carry the bulk of the conversation. It’s funny; he has the air of a cool uncle about him, the one who supervises carefully but also lets you sneak a sip from his can of beer when no one’s looking.

More than once, you notice Eddie glancing sidelong at you, watching your reaction to the spectacle before you. He smiles when you catch him, and squeezes your thigh under the table.

“So you woke up early to take her to work, ran D and D all day, and now you’re going to work a late shift? Are you planning on going to sleep on top of the bar?” Dustin is staring at Eddie in disbelief.

Eddie shrugs. “I sleep all day on Sunday.” He suddenly flicks a french fry at Dustin across the table. “What can I say? I’m extremely devoted to all of you,” he says sarcastically.

“One of us, anyway,” snickers Lucas, nodding his head at you.

“And don’t you forget it,” Eddie replies sternly, tightening the arm he has around you, holding you as closely as the cramped space permits. Without an ounce of shame or embarrassment, he leans in and smacks a wet kiss to your forehead.

A chorus of “oooh”s erupts, along with one “gross!” and you can’t stop the happy smile from unfurling across your face.

In this greasy diner booth surrounded by teenage boys, with Eddie so unabashedly declaring his affection for you, the pressure that’s been weighing on your chest since this morning dissipates almost completely.

“Ask him about Chrissy Cunningham.”

Almost.

The car ride home is quiet. Eddie has foregone his metal tapes, and instead lets the radio softly crackle out a tune from The Cure. Normally he’d switch the station in distaste, but something about it tonight just feels right.

“You’re just like a dream…you’re just like a dream…”

You’re gazing out the window, seemingly lost in thought. He can’t stop sneaking looks at you, at the way your lips are parted, the slight furrow to your brow. He wants to kiss the worry-line away.

“Everything okay?”

Your eyes refocus on him, and you give him a half-smile. “Everything’s okay,” you tell him, looking back down again, twiddling your thumbs.

There’s a hitch in your voice that concerns him. “Tired?” he asks hesitantly, unsure if he should press the issue.

“Yeah, kind of. Things were…a little overwhelming today, I guess.”

Eddie frowns. “They should give you a helper or something. That’s a lot to deal with by yourself, even if it’s only for an hour or two.” He pulls up to the curb in front of your house, engine idling. Then he moves in for another kiss, gentler than any other he’s given you today.

After just a few moments, you’re the one to break it, pulling back ever so slightly and leaving him wanting.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” you whisper, breath ghosting over his lips. You’re already reaching behind you for the door handle.

Eddie's caught off guard by the speed of your goodbye. “Goodnight,” he replies, dazed, sad to see you wrenching the door open so quickly, without the usual lingering kisses and touches he adores.

You hop out and he watches your retreating back as you tread across the sidewalk towards the house. He leans over the center consol, towards the open passenger window. “Sweetheart?” he calls out.

You turn back to face him. “Yeah?”

He makes a come-hither motion with two ringed fingers. “Come here for a second.”

You double back and make your way around the vehicle, so you’re standing on the other side of Eddie’s door. With your arms propped against the sill of his window, you lean against the van, letting it support your weight.

You look at him expectantly, waiting.

He reaches out and touches your face, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone, savoring the feeling of your skin underneath the rough pads of his fingers.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight. I know I sort of sprung it on you,” he says apologetically.

You smile at him, warm though tinged with a sadness he can’t put his finger on. “I had fun. You’re right — they are nice boys.”

Eddie sighs, still tracing your flesh. “Could I trouble you for one more kiss?” he asks quietly, blushing cheeks dimpling. “For the road?”

To his relief, you seem to melt a little, swaying lightly on your feet as you hold onto the sill and oblige him.

Eddie’s other hand molds to the back of your head, cradling it in his palm as he kisses you one last time, urgency pervading all his senses, as though he might not get another.

When he releases you he's breathless, and he rests his forehead against yours for a moment, letting your noses rub together. Finally, he relaxes back in the seat.

“Get some sleep, honey,” he says.

thank you for reading!! <3

taglist: @eddiesgirlforever, @eds6ngel, @sheisahauntedhouse, @lokis-tardis-companion19, @teary-eyed-egg, @whenshelanded, @nanaminswhore, @witchwolflea, @kores-mun-son-n-more

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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ceruleancattail · 2 months

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Tattoo artist Leona

Leona x reader

(This fic was written based on online information about tattoos and the tattooing process. I am no means an authority on this subject. I apologise for any inconsistencies and incorrect information🙇‍♂️)

You could feel the heat of Leona’s palm, oozing from his gloves. A warm, intense heat that seemed intent on slipping deep into your skin. It was a gentle, balmy feeling. Reminiscent of lying on a grassy plain, allowing the golden rays of the setting sun to wash over you. Encasing you in a soft ember halo of warmth.

It would have been relaxing, if not for the dull throbbing of the needle against your body. It stung, much like a scalded wound.

Not the most painful feeling, but not the most unpleasant either.

It was hard to concentrate on the pain, not when you could feel Leona’s breath waft against your bare skin. To hear him hem and haw, the very tips of his caramel locks of hair brush against you. He tossed it all up in a messy ponytail, but the stray ends all seem to come back to you somehow.

Gentle, cloying touches. Almost flirtatious, actually. Casting a sneaky glance towards your tattooist, you shoot him a sly wink:

“Enjoying the view, Kingscholar?”

Raising an eyebrow, Leona’s expression remains disappointingly neutral. He holds that face long enough for you to pout, before chuckling softly.

“Sure, Herbivore. Sure.”

Leona sighs, a tinge of exasperation concealed within. A gloved hand rests on the back of your head, coaxing your face back in front firmly.

“Now hush, unless you want to be stuck here all day.”

You chirp enthusiastically:

“Wouldn’t mind if you’re the one keeping me company!”

“Can it.”

You laugh at his sharp reply. With only the barest wisp of a smile on those lips, Leona resumes his work. Palm flat against your skin, guiding the needle across your body. It skates across your skin with practised ease, stabbing ink into your body. Sketching out an outline, filling it in. Inking line after line, filling your body with his own handiwork.

There was something oddly personal, about that. Marking a person with his own hand, his own designs. Making your skin a canvas of his own, displaying Leona’s tattoos for the world to see. Maybe it’s because it was you. Coming into his store with that smile of yours, sharing your ideas with him.

The ideation of tattoo designs goes both ways, Y’know. The client’s idea and purpose, and the artist’s execution of said idea and purpose. Leona could spend hours seated across you, listening to you ramble about an experience you wanted to remember, a story you wanted your skin to tell. No matter what you wanted to be tattooed with, the ideas you put out do show a lot of your personality. As Leona listens, he’s taking notes on an tablet. Sketching out possible designs alongside hastily scribbled notes.

And of course, he’s sketching you, as well. Your bright eyes when you share with him your latest idea, your gestures… maybe even a rather soft looking piece of you smiling, lined with gentle, nimble strokes. Leona would never show you those willingly, unfortunately. Perhaps you’ll catch a glimpse or two when he spins the tablet around for you to preview some of his ideas.

There was something intimate about sharing conversations with you. Something romantic, even. But Leona would rather die than to admit that to you.

You’re an odd one, herbivore.

As the needles skated across your skin, you winced. The sharp point dug into a rather sensitive patch of skin, stinging your skin like a thousand wasps. Gasping in pain, you grit your teeth, grinding back certain very colourful swears. Only to have Leona pause whatever he was doing to run a palm down your back. Stroking you with a gentleness you would have never expected him to have. Leona’s hand pressed against the curve of your spine, rubbing small, reassuring circles into your skin.

He mumbled softly, a raspy sound. However as rough as it was, you could feel it slip into your ears smoothly. Almost as if it was fine wine.

“You’re ok. You’re ok, herbivore.

Breathe.”

You could feel his body warmth against your skin, bleeding into your very soul. Hell, Leona was close enough for you to feel his pulse, heartbeat beating alongside your very own. A steady tempo, calming like a childhood lullaby.

His hand stayed pressed to your back under your breathing slowed. Until the tension melted… well partially from your shoulders. Yet his touch lingered, oddly enough. Leona’s palm stayed on your back long after your heartbeat slowed back to a calmer pace.

Until your pulse beat in time with his.

Two hearts, as one.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #Leona kingscholar #Leona kingscholar x reader #Leona x reader #Leona #lucky potion 🔷#lads when I said a Drabble #I fucking lies #oops #the words got me too hard #on my knees rip #information in tattoos and stuff in this fic was taken from the internet #🙇‍♂️I am so not an authority on this subject so I apologise for any misinformation

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tubbytarchia · 4 months

Text

Actually I'm gonna need a little insanity thread for all the rancher things I love as I watch their POV for the first time. I'll publicize this when I'm done with ep5

TLDR: Heavens, it is a long list. I cannot tldr this

Them running around in circles, completely lost after their first deaths whilst also not expressing even the slightest bit of anger (esp Jimmy because you know)

Them expecting the other to know how to build but neither of them can

Tango building a box of a house and Jimmy being absolutely smitten by it continuously

Tango praising Jimmy with full genuinity for bringing back... a bucket of water

Them cradling one little chicken like its their offspring before they can get more

Jimmy standing behind the door, calling for Tango in order to surprise him with cows.... god help my heart

Tango declaring them as team ranchers to immediately admit he might not be a very good rancher. This is good and cute because I love to see them struggle yet have unbridled support towards each other

Jimmy being cornered by Joel and Etho so Tango leaves to save him (or so he says at least!)

Jimmy ushering Tango into their house as Tango yells for help due to his hunger and being chased by mobs, and then Jimmy giving him two melon slices because that's all he has (They are so pathetically poor which only accentuates the wholesome and cute factor)

Jimmy accidentally picking up Tango's baked potato and then handing it back to him so they can eat together while Tango basically foams out the mouth because he's so hungry

"Welcome home honey"

Them celebrating being able to feed themselves to any degree

Tango all "I built that wall, it's ugly, continuing the trend" only for Jimmy to immediately proclaim that he likes it

Jimmy catching on that Tango can be a great builder actually and confronting him about it like he's just been cheated on

Tango blocking their entrance to prevent more cows from leaving for Jimmy to then admit that he was the one that broke the door, oops

Tango watching Jimmy escort two goats from a distance "he's doing great"

Them in total confusion wasting way too much time trying to figure out how to get goat horns as they're huddled in their house with said goats strolling around (and them continuing to get butted casually as they go about their normal activities) before eventually choosing to waste much more time by trying to do the same thing outside

Unrelated but Pearl of all people being the first person to come to them with genuine help rather than to fuck with them like everyone else

In the face of all their struggles, the thing that seems to bring the absolute most joy to Tango and Jimmy by this point is obtaining a silly little goat horn

The fact that they both got the exact same goat horn!!!

"I need stuff for tools, and I need stuff for Jimmy"

Tango defending their base's looks despite proclaiming to be a bad builder, because god, I want him to be doing that just because of how much Jimmy praised it

Nobody replying to their goat horns, but THEM replying to each other!! (They also toot at each other later when frantically looking for each other agh!!)

This time Tango interrogating Jimmy as if he's been cheated on because Jimmy went into the deep dark without his approval

"The R survived"

"Tango snap out of it; Tango's having a moment" *Tango yelling and groaning and grunting and laughing continuously*

"Tango, Tango, let's think about this. Let's think about this!" "Hold me back" "Tango, listen to the horn" Jimmy calming his deranged husband aw

Tango burying his head in a corner refusing to look at his beautiful ranch in complete ruin even as Jimmy coaxes him

Jimmy and Tango kind of begrudgingly accepting Scar trying to be nice but Jimmy still valiantly defending the foot tower before it burned to the ground

Their son/daughter :( (Tango refers to the Warden as a she one episode and a he in another. Their child was an icon...)

Tango expressing that he's proud of Jimmy for having stayed alive so long and Jimmy replying "It's all down to to you. Hey, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you"

Maybe Jimmy really didn't have a water bucket on him but it was so funny of him to casually turn to Tango whilst on fire and go "can you put me out?"

Jimmy being comically kidnapped??? (Actually being put into gay baby jail instead) And asking Tango to help save him

"You're still here? It's over. Go home. Go." (insert a bunch of crying emojis)

Other stuff: I think by virtue of Jimmy being a real tall guy, his character is usually depicted as taller than Tango's if not significantly so. As such... Tango calling Jimmy "little man" tickles me greatly and sounds like a very fond pet name

Briefly brought it up earlier but goddd. I will absolutely hc that Tango only became proud and defendant of his work because of how much Jimmy liked what he built. And Jimmy always being there and calming Tango in his crazed outbursts <3 Tango is such a goddamn creature isn't he

And the uhh... Tango dying quickest out of anyone because of a creeper, to then express that he was proud of Jimmy for doing well even though he got them killed the first time around, and then Jimmy unceremoniously dying to an Enderman to end their series for good... As funny and poetic as it is, god, the canary curse fuckin hurts!! And yet there were hardly times that Tango showed disdain towards Jimmy, and then never genuinely. He knew their series could end quick with Jimmy as his soulmate and even when their positivity faltered, their support towards one another never did

For having read all this (or maybe just glancing and scrolling)... some unfinished rancher doodles just for you that I made while watching their POV

#team rancher #rancher duo #I am not okay #trafficshipping #blabber

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theemporium · 9 months

Note

Would you consider writing part two for the last Remus story? I can't deal with them not admitting they love each other and getting together 😭

poor little james blurb got put on hold for this but oh well!! thank you for requesting and i hope this makes up for the last blurb🖤

part one

Remus Lupin had come to realise that life was absolutely horrible and pointless without you in it.

It had been almost a month since you walked away from him in the library, and Remus didn’t think his life could get much worse than seeing you not even look back at him but did. He was forced to confront the habits he gained over the years of your friendship.

He would prepare a cup of coffee in the morning for you, only to realise you were on the other side of the Great Hall.

He would excitedly rush to your dorm to tell you about a book he just read, only to be told by one of your roommates that you were out for the night.

He would hear your laugh in between classes or in the corridors, and his head would be snapping around to see if he could even catch a glimpse of your smile.

Remus Lupin was miserable without you and everyone could see that.

James and Sirius had tried to cheer him up. Lily had tried to coax him on weekends out to Hogsmeade. Marlene and Dorcas had even tried their fair hand in trying to get a peak of the old Remus back, but it was useless.

It was Mary who had the idea of trying to get the two of you to reconcile. However, approaching you was never going to work considering the fact you weren’t talking to any of them either. And they doubted Regulus would be any help in persuading you into talking to them.

It left only one reasonable option—trapping the two of you in a room until you worked out your differences.

Remus was easy enough to convince. It felt a bit dodgy to be using his general exhaustion from the full moon that just passed against him, but he didn’t put up much of a fight as they led him towards the Quidditch closet out by the field. You were a little more difficult, but it didn’t mean they hadn’t managed to do much, your fists pounding on the door the second you heard the lock click.

But it was useless. You were trapped.

And then you turned around, finding Remus sat on the floor with his back pressed against the wall. There were dark bags under his eyes and his cheeks looked a little more sunken in that they usually did after a full moon. He looked paler and you noted the new scar slashed across his cheek, fresh and not fully healed yet.

“Oh.”

But he didn’t say anything. He just looked at you. Partly because he was convinced he was imagining it and partly because he was scared that if he opened his mouth, he would ruin the first chance he had to see you in weeks.

You squirmed a little under his intense gaze, turning to try and shove the door open a few more times. But with no wand and your non-verbal spellcasting skills amatuer at best, you were forced to accept your fate.

You settled on the floor, leaning against the wall across from him so you were forced to meet his gaze. Neither one of you said anything at first and it felt wrong. It was rare you didn’t know what to say to each other, and in the moments where silence did fall, it was nothing but comfortable.

But this was tense, awkward even. And neither of you knew how to navigate it.

Much to both of your surprise, it was Remus who spoke first.

“I’m sorry,” he started and you froze, unsure if he had actually spoken or if you imagined it. But when you lifted your head, his eyes were wide and pleading and you knew you heard him correctly.

“Remus—”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he continued, cutting you off and you pressed your lips together as you listened to him. “I did trust you,” he said before pausing to correct himself. “I do trust you. And I’m sorry I never told you—”

“Why didn’t you?” you asked, your voice so small you almost didn’t recognise yourself.

“I was protecting—”

“The real reason, Remus,” you said sternly. “Give me the truth, I at least deserve this.”

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes falling to focus on the ground between his feet as he spoke. “People’s opinions of me change when I tell them my secret,” he confessed. “Even if they don’t mean for it to, it does. It happened with the boys, it happened with Lily and Dorcas and Mary and Marlene. The few professors that know, it changed their perspective too. I hate it.”

You didn’t say anything.

“I hate the pitying looks they give me after a full moon, I hate the way they treat me like I’m about to shatter into a million pieces,” he muttered with a bitter laugh, before he lifted his head and looked at you. “I couldn��t see that with you. The others…I could deal with but I didn’t want you to change how you saw me. I didn’t want you to stop looking at me like I was worth something.”

You swallowed the emotions that laid thick in the back of your throat. “Remus, I could never.”

“But you did,” he said with a grim smile. “And it is my fault you did so.”

“Because you were a self-deprecating idiot who should have realised I knew all along,” you murmured and gave him a soft smile, and something like hope flared in his chest.

“That I am,” he admitted with a nod. “I’m sorry, love.”

“You and those puppy dog eyes are too hard to resist, Lupin,” you grumbled as you shuffled across the small closet, making your way towards him until you were straddling his lap. “I’m still angry at you.”

Remus' face fell a little but he nodded. “I understand.”

“But I still love you so I get to do this,” you murmured and before he could even process what was happening, you were grabbing his face in your hands and pressing your lips against his.

Remus melted into your touch instantly, his arms winding around your waist and pulling your body down until you were fully situated on his lap. He kissed you back eagerly, his tongue darting out to lick and tease you like he had been dreaming of doing since he knew what the feelings he had meant. He let out a small whimper when you nipped his lip, a noise that only got louder when you pulled away.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Remus,” you whispered, your forehead pressed against his. “But you’re my idiot.”

“And I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for my stupidity as long as you keep calling me yours, love,” Remus whispered back, lifting his head to peck your lips. “I love you too.”

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wonwoonlight · 10 months

Note

Cheol secretly clearing your schedule for the week to take you on a surprise trip to Jeju 😌

IT'S THIS SEUNGCHEOL ACTUALLY

when you miss seungcheol but you're going on a trip to jeju without him

A/n: not proofread, just fluff!!! Short lol idk the wc bc i wrote it on tumblr. Thank u anon i love u for this, virtually kissing you on the mouth (with consent) for your big brain😗😗😗😗

The company has given you a month break on top of the first two weeks you were told to rest by your doctor.

Seungcheol tries to be there as much as he can, but between concert preparation and some other schedules, he can only squeeze in so much of his time between his overall schedules.

You've been recovering well, thankfully, and you’ve declared yourself too well rested that you're at the point where you're antsy and you just want to move. So you've been catching up with friends and family instead; meeting them over meals and desserts.

Obviously, Seungcheol can't come with you even though he would love to. He was going to join one of the dinner with your family, but one of his schedule got delayed for two hours so there goes his plan. Instead, he quickly sent your family a set of desserts as an apology like the good boyfriend that he is.

That said, you're on your last week of resting and you'll belatedly return to your schedule starting on Tuesday. Which you're kinda excited for because you miss your hectic schedules already, but it also kinda sucks because you've only gotten to see Seungcheol about four times for a few short hours throughout your break. It was such a good opportunity to finally spend time with him, but, then again, he has schedules to attend to and you understand.

Still, you were hoping you can finally just laze around with him even for a day.

"You're all packed?" Seungcheol asks lazily through the phone, his face filling your entire screen.

"Pretty much." You nod as you look through your luggages. "This is enough... right?

Seungcheol laughs incredulously, and you glare at him because you already know what he's going to say.

"Baby, you're--"

"--going on a three days trip, I know. But you don't know what's going to happen!"

He grins so hard his cheeks hurt, and it takes everything in him to hold back from telling you just how much he knows what's going to happen during your trip.

"Curse my cousin for asking me to go on a trip out of nowhere. She knows I'm the worst when it comes to packing. How could she ask me if I want to go to Jeju three days ago! Three!"

"But you're excited anyway, right?" He coaxes you softly, reminding you that it's been quite some time since you go on a trip that is not related to your schedule.

"I am." You admit, then drop the sundress you're going to put into the luggage (last minute because you're literally leaving to the airpory in an hour) before you take your phone and plops down the bed, looking at him through your screen. "I wish I could've gone with you, though."

"I know." He tries to sound as sad as possible, and he's thankful that you were too busy pouting to see the battle he's close to losing to fight a smile. "We'll go on a trip soon, I promise."

"Don't make promises like that." You say sternly; he knows just how much you hate promises like that, and he's learned not to say them carelessly, but of course he says that because he knows just how soon that actually is.

"I'm sorry, I just really want to go on a trip with you, too." He musters the most pitiful tone he can let out, and you roll your eyes before you tell him he's obligated to take you on a trip now that he's said it. "I will. It'll happen before you know it."

You're not playing with him anymore though, because you're suddenly hit with an overwhelming sense of loneliness even though he's here with you on the phone almost everyday. You don't want to sound clingy, because you're grateful that Seungcheol always tries to spare the time to talk to you on the phone when he could; but it's actually been a month or so since you actually spend time to be with each other and you suddenly miss him so, so dearly.

"I miss you..." Seungcheol would've missed it had he not been staring at you, and he returns the sentiment before he winces at his manager telling him they've arrived at their destination. "Go. Your schedule is waiting."

"I'll see you very soon, okay? Promise me you'll have fun in Jeju?"

"I will if you're there with me."

Seungcheol laughs, which seems to help you smile also because you've always claimed you're his number one fan when it comes to that.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do about that."

"It's fine." You brush off his words, not wanting him to feel bad about it. "I love you. Do well on your schedule today."

"Love you too." He smiles before you hang up, not forgetting to remind you to eat properly.

You don't get to be dramatic and wail about your loneliness, because it's not even three minutes later that someone knocks on your door and you open it only to have your breath knocked out of your lungs.

"Surprise!" Seungcheol grins, his arms wide open, ready to wrap into your frame. "I heard you're all ready for Jeju?"

#seungcheol fluff #scoups fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen scenario #seungcheol imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen au #seungcheol scenarios #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines

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venusjaynie · 11 months

Text

wish you were sober

Pairing: College!Frat!Bucky x Fem!reader

summary: you've had a crush on your roommate, Bucky, for a while, and after rescuing him from a party while he's drunk for what feels like the 1000th time, you finally admit your feelings.

Content Warning: friends with feelings situation, sexual tension, strong language, pet-names (angel, baby etc.), alcoholism, drunk bucky, parties, angst, fluff, mentions of puking (no actual puking)

word count: 2k

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

"C'mon, Angel, please come with us?" Bucky asks, tugging on your arm. You roll your eyes, yet a playful smile toys at your lips.

"I said no, Buck. If you wanna go, then go. No one's stopping you. But I'm not going. I don't wanna deal with a tequila drunk Bucky Barnes all night." You tell him, gently removing your hand from his grip. His face falls immediately.

"I promise I won't get drunk this time. I swear I-" He's cut of by a loud laugh from Sam.

"Bullshit! You know as well as I do that you won't last 10 minutes before you're wasted, Barnes." Sam says. You agree.

"See Bucky, even Sam agrees. I'm tired. I'm not going, and that's final." You tell him, defiantly. "And don't you have that biology exam tomorrow?"

"I already studied for that! If you don't wanna come that's fine, but I swear I won't get drunk." Bucky remarks, a pointed look on his face.

"Even if I'm not there?" You ask.

"Even if you aren't there." You eye him suspiciously, but believe him nonetheless.

"Have fun, call me if you need me, yeah?" Bucky nods in response. He looks deflated, but bids you goodbye with a kiss on the cheek which absolutely does not make you blush, despite Sam's insistence that it in fact, does.

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

Turns out, you not going to the party was not final. After a few hours of you watching TV in the living room of you apartment, Bucky calls you, begging you to come and pick him up.

30 minutes and 3 rounds of shots, which you did not participate in, later, you're taking care of an extremely drunk Bucky. He smiling stupidly at you and is babbling about nonsense, while you try to coax him into the car.

"You'll never guess what Wanda said to Sharon-" He cuts off his own sentence with drunken laughter.

"Bucky- just get in- Jesus Christ, would you sit down and put the seatbelt on, please?" You say as you shove him into the car, being mindful of his head.

"And then-" He, again, interrupts himself with giggles. "And then Sam- he spilled an entire bottle of vodka right down Sharon's shirt! It was so fucking funny, babe. You shoulda- You shoulda been there!" He spirals off into another giggling fit as you finally get him into the car and he lets you buckle his seatbelt. You close the passenger door with a sigh and walk to your side of the car, sitting down and starting the vehicle.

The car ride is mainly silent, save for Bucky's occasional giggling or whining about something that gone down at the party. You stay silent, keeping your eyes on the road, and even in his drunken state, Bucky can tell he's fucked up.

He thinks for a moment, not wanting to anger you any further and make the situation worse.

"Angel?" He asks, somewhat quietly. You nod. "Are you mad at me?" He almost whispers.

You don't say anything.

"You're mad." It's a statement, yet he poses it as a question. He sounds so sad, you almost feel bad for him.

"And you're drunk." You say.

"What?! No I'm not!" He replies.

You sigh, before asking, "How much did you drink tonight?"

"Uh- I did, like, 3 rounds of, uh, tequila shots. I did the keg challenge- you know the one from Stranger Things-" You cut him off with an unimpressed look. He chuckles nervously, but continues. "That's irrelevant. I had, maybe, 2 cups of Jack and coke..." He trails off as you stop at a red light and turn to face him.

You sigh. "You promised, James." His eyes widen at the use of his first name, and he immediately knows he fucked up.

"I know I did. M'sorry. I just got carried away... again." He sends a resentful look in your direction. You turn away from him. The lights turn green and you continue the car ride to your house.

After a while, Bucky speaks up. "I-uh- I don't feel so good." He says, swallowing, hard.

"There's a bottle of water in the glove compartment. James, if you puke in my car I'm never speaking to you again. If you need me to pull over, tell me. We are not having another Fulton Street incident." You tell him, deadly serious. He takes the water from the glove compartment and sips it. Thankfully, he doesn't puke in the car, and you soon turn into the car parking area back on campus, which luckily, is close to the frat house you share with the boys and Nat.

Bucky gets out first, and stumbles and trips his way over to the path leading up to the house. Sighing, you do the same, minus the stumbling and falling, and make your way over to him. As you arrive at the front door of the house, you pull the key from your pocket, and the little keychain picture of you and Bucky clinks on the metal of the door handle as you open it.

Once inside the house, Bucky immediately goes to the kitchen. You take off your coat and shoes at the door, and follow him.

He's getting another beer from the fridge.

"Bucky, what the hell are you doing?" You whisper-shout.

"I'm getting a beer." He says, loudly.

"Lower your voice. Everyone else is sleeping." You say, almost irritated.

"Sorry, Angel." He giggles. He opens the beer and moves to take a swig of it, but you're faster than him in his drunken state and you manage to take the beer from him before he can consume anymore alcohol. "Hey!"

"You need to go to sleep, c'mon." You take his hand and practically drag him to his room, reminding him to keep quiet as you walk past the other bedrooms. When you reach Bucky's room, you go in to help him get ready, but he simply flops onto the bed and attempts to pull you with him.

"No, James, you need to get changed." He groans, but sits up anyway. You help him out of his clothes, and into a pair of plaid pyjama pants, but he refuses to wear a shirt.

"Alright, no shirt. Go brush your teeth. I'm gonna go back to my room, 'kay? Night, Bucky." You make a move to leave, but he grabs your hand before you can get very far.

"Don't go. Stay here tonight." He gives you his best puppy dog eyes, which he knows you can't say no to, and you roll your eyes, but sit down on the bed anyway. He grins cheekily before getting up to brush his teeth, not letting go of your hand and consequently dragging you in there with him. "There's a spare toothbrush in the cabinet." He mumbles, his toothbrush still in his mouth, and you reach over to grab the one he's talking about. As you're brushing your teeth, you catch Bucky's eye in the mirror. He's already looking at you, and before you look away he winks at you, grinning like the Cheshire cat. You can't help but laugh, and the faint tint of pink on your cheeks makes Bucky smirk and raise his eyebrows at you slightly. Even in his drunken state he notices those little things about you. He can't help it. He's infatuated by everything you do.

After brushing your teeth, you lightly pull at Bucky's arm to guide him to his bed, and he goes pliant at your touch. Before getting into bed, though, he goes to his wardrobe, albeit stumbling on his way, and pulls out one of his old jerseys for you.

"Here. You can't sleep in your clothes." You take it from him, thanking him, and you make a start to the bathroom until Bucky stops you. "Just change in here, angel. I think we've known each other long enough to get changed in the same room." He laughs as he says it, and you can't help but laugh too. You contemplate his offer for a moment, and then you remind yourself that he probably won't even remember this tomorrow morning, so you set the jersey on the bed and begin to undress yourself. You notice Bucky not-so-subtly watching you, so you clear your throat to get his attention.

"No peaking, pervy. Cover your eyes."

"Alright, alright. Don't get your panties in a twist." He uses his hands to cover his eyes, and you continue to get changed, and soon enough you notice that he's looking through the gaps in his fingers, but you don't bother to tell him you can see him, too tired to deal with that shit at 2am. You do your best to ignore his watchful eyes, but you can't, however, ignore the quiet intake of breath that comes from his direction when you take your shirt off, exposing your bra clad chest. Not wanting to encourage his ogling, you quickly slip the jersey over your head.

"Alright, you can look now." You tell him, and he removes his hands from his face and pulls back the covers of the bed, and you climb in beside him. You've slept in the same bed before, so being this close to Bucky shouldn't feel weird, but as you settle down in the bed and he shuffles closer to you, the feeling of his breath fanning on your neck, and the arm that's somehow circled your waist and pulled you into him all in the span of 10 seconds has you feeling slightly overwhelmed. You've had a crush on Bucky since you moved in with him and the others, which was a year ago. So being this close to him has turned the butterflies in your stomach that you feel when you're around him into a zoo enclosure of elephants and zebras and giraffes, and they're all chasing each other and causing your insides to flip around all over the place. It's fucking annoying. You're pulled out of your thoughts by Bucky's voice breaking the silence in the room.

"Thanks for tonight. Sorry you have to deal with this." His words are quiet, and you don't really know how to respond, because frankly, as much as you may complain about having to deal with Bucky when he's drunk, part of you doesn't mind taking care of him when he's like this.

"Don't worry about it. I'm your friend, it's kind've my job."

"Correction: you're my best friend." You giggle and he doesn't say anything else for a while, and you've closed your eyes, ready to sleep by the time he pipes up again.

"Angel? Can I tell you something?" You crack open one eye as he moves away from your back and turns you over by the hip in the process.

"Sure."

"I think you're really fucking pretty." He whispers it, and his face is inches from yours, and blood rushes to your cheeks while the elephants, zebras and giraffes in your stomach to backflips off the walls.

"You, uh, you shouldn't say shit like that when you're plastered."

"I know. But drunk words are sober thoughts. Isn't that what you told me that time I told Maddie I didn't like her when I was drunk and then she got all pissed at me and I blamed it on the alcohol?" You nodded at his question. "I really like you. Like, really."

"I really like you, too, but I don't wanna do this when you're drunk, so we'll talk about it in the morning, yeah?"

"Alright. Alcohol doesn't change how I feel about you, though." You smile at him, and he tilts his head up and kisses your forehead. "Night, babe."

"Goodnight, Bucky." You turn around again and his arm wraps around your waist as it did before, and he pulls you flush against him.

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

The sound of Bucky's 8.30am alarm pulls you from your sleep. You slept well throughout the night, even though you ended up with a 6'2" hockey player lying half across you. When Bucky wakes up, though, he doesn't make a move to get off of you, and just makes his head more comfortable against your chest. You turn the lamp on beside his bed, and he groans, shutting his eyes even tighter and covering them with his arm, and you laugh at his actions.

"Don't laugh. I'm in pain." He says, dramatically.

"Oh, shut it. You're hung over. C'mon, lets get you some Tylenol and a coffee." He groans again as you try to sit up, and wraps both his arms around your waist to pull you back, and you're giggling at him again. "James, c'mon. It's 8.30. Your bio exam is in an hour and a half, and you need to be on campus in an hour to get signed in."

"Ugh, fine!" He rolls his eyes, but gets out of bed and goes to walk to the kitchen, and you stand up to follow him.

"Woah, don't get pissy with me. I'm not the one who thought it would be a good idea to get drunk the night before an exam."

"Shut up."

By the sounds of the conversation, it doesn't seem like Bucky remembers the confession he made last night, and you can't say you're surprised. The cuddling may have been an indicator that what he said was true, but the two of you have quite a touchy, almost flirtatious, friendship so it doesn't really confirm anything for you.

Bucky must notice that you seem lost in thought, and it's almost like he can read your mind.

"Hey, I remember what we talked about last night. We'll talk about it as soon as I get home, okay? Trust me, I wouldn't forget something like that." His words put you at ease slightly, and you nod, smiling. "And, for the record, I meant it. All of it."

You look up at him.

"Me too."

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

this has been in my drafts for like 6 months ngl but anyways here you go <3

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes college au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #marvel #jayne writes #bucky barnes au

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juunobox · 6 months

Text

──★ ˙ ̟ sitting on nikolai's lap and testing his limits by pretending oblivious. (nikolai gogol x gn! reader)

summary: enjoying ice cream while u sit on his lap, intentionally moving around in ways that'd turn him on but pretending you have no idea what you were doing to annoy him lol warnings: n/sfw. no actual woohoo scene , just the teasing leading up to that, and i don't use explicit languages here but u can tell what's happening note: i have mixed feelings ab this one i think im having writer's block idk help me e i hope u enjoyed tho

"Me, oh my, looks like someone is enjoying themselves a liiittle too much," Nikolai chuckled whilst playfully tousling your [h/c] hair, causing you to nod with a laugh. "I didn't expect myself to enjoy it this much, either– carnivals are typically crowded places- but this was a pleasant surprise," you admitted with glee.

Initially, you hesitated to accept the invitation to go visit a carnival with Nikolai because you have a dislike for crowded and busy environments, but his company made a significant difference.

Whenever you started feeling overwhelmed, Nikolai, with his keen eyes would almost immediately notice it– immediately whisking you away into his arms; using his overcoat to move the both of you to a quieter spot nearby and stay there until you felt better before continuing the activities.

Nikolai was enthusiastic throughout, and although keeping up with his energy was challenging– seeing his beaming excitement warmed your heart and kept you going. His eagerness to explore every nook and cranny of the carnival while still making sure to take breaks just for you was a gesture you deeply appreciated.

Nikolai grinned, "See? I knew you'd enjoy it, dove!" You responded with another nod, mirroring his satisfaction in how today's events had turned out pleasantly. Leaving the carnival behind, the two of you walked in comfortable silence for a moment.

As the lively lights slowly faded into the dusky evening, you and Nikolai wandered into a nearby park. Typically bustling with activity, the park had now settled into a peaceful hush, possibly due to the approaching darkness. Nikolai's eyes suddenly lit up as he exclaimed, "[Y/N], look over there! An ice cream vendor with Halloween-themed flavors!" He pointed at the vendor with an enthusiastic grin, slightly jumping in his spot. "Wow, they have 'blood' flavor! We have to try it." He tugged your arm, coaxing you to join him. "Let's gooo!"

Even though you weren't in the mood for any more sweets after indulging in them with Nikolai in the carnival earlier– it was difficult to resist his gleeful enthusiasm, so you responded with a smile and a nod. The vendor appeared pleasantly surprised by Nikolai's striking excitement for the sweet, cold dessert. He ordered 'blood' flavored ice creams for both of you, but Nikolai's cone contained an unexpected swirl of vanilla.

He happily accepted it, paid the vendor, took your hand in his before leaving.

"He was so kind, wasn't he? Giving me the vanilla flavor as well," Nikolai giggled softly while savoring the ice cream. You agreed with a small giggle, "Yeah, I think he appreciated your excitement. It's not every day you see someone this thrilled about getting an ice cream."

"Hahaha! I hope that's true," Nikolai laughed before taking a taste of the ice cream. "Oh, turns out this is strawberry jam," he remarked, taking another lick of the dessert. "Just the right amount of sweetness! What do you think, dove?"

You tasted your own ice cream before replying, "Mmm, it's good, I agree!" You glanced at Nikolai, who was enjoying his treat with repeated nods in silent approval. "Can I taste the vanilla flavor, Kolya?

"Sure thing!" Nikolai smiled and lowered his hand, offering you a taste of the vanilla. You leaned in to taste it- approving the taste, "The vanilla is so creamy," and returned to enjoying your own ice cream.

Unbeknownst to you, his gaze lingered on your lips for a little longer. "Isn't it? Sooo good!" he forced a grin on his face, promptly looking away– pretending that the sight of you tasting his ice cream earlier didn't make him feel nor think of certain things that shall remain… unspoken. At least for now.

As you both strolled a little further, you came across an unoccupied bench. Nikolai abruptly halted and turned to you, saying, "Let's sit here for a bit!" He tugged your arm, guiding you to the bench before taking a seat himself.

Leaning back against the wooden bench, he savored the taste of his ice cream; legs spreading slightly as he relished the treat. It was difficult not to look at his legs— his thighs, his lap. Your eyes remain fixated on his lap, and a familiar desire stirred within you.

You often fantasized about sitting on his lap; his thick thighs looked incredibly alluring. Or, perhaps you just yearned for something more. You wanted to feel them… on you, against you– experience that closeness in some way or another.

That's why now, instead of taking the empty space beside him, you boldly plopped down on Nikolai's lap.

He was taken aback by the sudden contact, his eyes widening in surprise. It nearly caused him to drop his ice cream. "[y/n], what would you do if I dropped my ice cream?!" he proclaimed theatrically, a small laugh accompanying it.

Despite his words, you chose to ignore them and continued to enjoy your ice cream while making yourself comfortable on his lap.

Nikolai, maintaining his playful tone, remarked, "Someone's feeling a bit daring today, I see~?"

With faux innocence, you replied without even sparing him a glance. "What? I just wanted to sit here. Your lap always seems like a comfortable seat to me." Not giving him any chance to respond, you continued by shifting your sitting position on his lap.

He chuckled, "Suuure. Comfortable, is it?" Nikolai said smugly, clearly seeing through your intentions but didn't make a comment on it. "But we're in a public space, [y/n]. Don't you think people might find this… at least a teeny bit inappropriate?"

Nikolai wasn't wrong. You knew exactly what you were doing at this moment: teasing him– but this time, you intended to play the innocent. After all, he was always the one poking fun on you. This would be a sort of payback. Fair, right?

"Kolya, I'm just sitting on your lap, trying to find a good position. These hard wooden benches aren't very forgiving," you responded with mock ignorance, enjoying your ice cream and continuing to shift your position on his lap, pressing down against him even more.

Nikolai's words caught in his throat at this, feeling your movements. Oh, his expression was priceless – if you could see it. He's trying so hard to pretend he's just as oblivious as you are; but his flushed cheeks, the glistening sweat on his forehead, and the way he nibbled on his lower lip– revealed everything.

There was a brief pause before you heard a response from Nikolai in the form of a soft hum. "Hm~ well, if you insist." He leaned back, trying to relax again and enjoy his ice cream that's starting to melt a little.

What you were doing was clearly having an effect on him, but he was valiantly attempting to maintain his composure. You looked around, spotting a dog passing by in the distance. You jumped a bit on the spot, intentionally pressing down on him even more. "Oh, a cute dog," you exclaimed, "Kolya, look!" you extended an arm and pointed in the direction where the dog is, deliberately ignoring his reactions as you continued to shift on his lap.

The clown's eyes widened once again, sucking in a sharp breath as you moved. He almost let out a moan. Almost. In his mind, you were practically grinding on him, because, well, that is exactly what you're doing– it's just that you're pretending clueless to it.

Nikolai's hand drifted to the edge of the bench, his fingers gripping it tightly as you continued to move. He blinked slowly at the sensation, releasing a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh. It was becoming progressively more challenging for him to keep his composure.

"Dove... You're moving a bit too–" he said in a hoarse, unsteady voice. But before he could finish what he was trying to say, you quickly interrupted, "Oh! That really sucks. I wanted to see the dog's face up close; it already looks incredibly cute from here!" You continued to move, undeterred by his pleas.

Nikolai's blush intensified, "[Y/N]," He swallowed, transitioning from gripping the bench to placing his hand on your hip, attempting to keep you from moving...

But you just continued and kept going.

"Aaah," you gasped, posing disappointment as your eyes followed the dog racing away. You kicked your legs and held onto Nikolai's thighs even tighter, leaning back, "The dog ran away." You murmured, maintaining the feigned innocence to the impact of your actions on him up until now, but finally putting a stop to it.

Nikolai was noticeably sweating, his breathing slightly heavier. You were in such close proximity to him, practically pressed against his body– you could feel the heat emanating from him.

Just as you were preparing to rise from his lap, he finally spoke up. "Nope. Come back here," Nikolai's grip on your hip suddenly tightened, leaving you with no choice but to remain in close contact with him. You were caught off guard by the sensation, your eyes widening as a soft gasp escaped your lips.

"Hey," you began, attempting to speak and make eye contact, but Nikolai swiftly nuzzled your neck and slid his hand beneath your shirt, gently caressing your skin. His touch sent shivers down your spine, accompanied by a flutter in your lower stomach. "Kolya, wait," you squirmed, trying to stop him; but instead– ended up losing your balance. Your ice cream tumbled into your lap, the creamy substance sliding down in between your thighs.

Nikolai paused and leaned back, assessing the mess with a small pout. "Hm, your ice cream spilled... What a waste." His hand swiftly ventured further upwards, tugging onto your shirt. "If you remove this, then I can use it to wipe the ice cream off your thighs," he suggested with a mischievous giggle, slipping a finger underneath.

Your cheeks turned red at his words. "I'm not doing that," you held onto his arm, preventing him from going further. "Not here-"

"Oh, my prettiest dove, you were the one who initiated this... I knew what you were doing, moving around on my lap like that!" he chuckled, "But, fine." Nikolai finally withdrew his hand before gently helping you get off his lap before standing up.

"Let's head over to that alley instead. I'll help you clean that up!" Nikolai chirped with a sly grin, his cheerful tone contrasting with the true intentions behind his proposal.

You nodded and walked alongside him, the stickiness from the ice cream made walking a bit uncomfortable– but the prospect of getting rid of the sticky feeling soon was somewhat relieving.

Then, you suddenly felt Nikolai's hand on your thigh, where the ice cream had spilled. You jumped at the sudden touch, turning to glare at him. He met your gaze with a playful giggle, licking the ice cream off his fingers.

"Did you just—"

"It's called not wasting food, [Y/N]!" He giggled, eyeing you suggestively, "I'll clean the rest of it too, don't you worry~"

#idk how to tag this one.#bsd x gender neutral reader #nikolai bsd x reader #nikolai gogol bsd #bsd x reader #nikolai gogol x reader #nikolai x you #nikolai x y/n #nikolai gogol x you #help #bsd x y/n #bsd x you

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gojoshooter · 1 year

Note

Hi!! Thanks sm for your response! I'm glad you take requests since I'm such a fan of your work!

I was thinking about a scenario wherein Gojo Satoru always had the impression that reader hated his guts because they always bicker even at the pettiest of things. But one day, Satoru overhears reader gushing about having a crush on him (reader could be talking to Geto/Shoko/both etc) and they keep rambling about how much they like him and all. Meanwhile, Satoru's just 🧍‍♂️leaning by the doorframe with the biggest smug grin on his face (he actually secretly likes reader back). How it ends is entirely up to you if you'd take this request hehe

Just basically lots of fluff and the occasional comedy lol thanks so much for listening to my rambling (I just love him sm)

hi, thank you for the praise robynn! ’m so glad to know my works interest you, luv u & here's your req hc <3

Deer caught in Headlights : Gojo

Pairing : frenemy!gojo x highschool!y/n

A/N : here's another set of hcs about gojo bullying you like the jerk he is. ps. i tried to be serious

WARNINGS : gojo is a tease, but so are you

“i don't like him like that. absolutely fucking not, what the hell?” you whisper, mouth stuffed with icecream in the comfy bed of Shoko's room as Geto copied her bored expression—sitting & listening to your endless rambles on why you're not attracted to Satoru like that

seriously, they've lost the count of reasons why you gradually became a Satoru simp but oh have you

“goddammit! i hate him, i hate him and his dumb voice and his stupid muscles and his awfully attractive face! it's all on my desserts he ate to look li-... Geto, are you sleeping?”

you stop your very important discourse to give the best friend of your enemy & your thought dump a pointed look

“no, please keep talking. i only yawn when i'm super fascinated”

says him, that talk-back king of a bitch you're sure he got that from is best friend

he lies down the bed with a soft huff and if he notices Satoru’s tall presence by the door, he does nothing—nothing but a hint of evil amusement making his lips curve into a subtle smile to the thought of your pathetically obvious crush being exposed

he does nothing to stop you who's back faced the door, nothing when his best friend approached slowly with his hands inside his sweatpants as your embarrassing tirade continued

“-and Shoko, trust me. I'd have let him known about his ridiculous eyes that i dreamt last night if he wasn't such a jerk like h-”

“...what about my eyes?”

you flinch... no, no no no, fuck. even Shoko burst out at your comical whip of the head

with a stifling laugh that she tried to fight so hard, Shoko gets out along with Geto who may have wanted to stay just to watch the drama commence

“um-” you almost landed face first trying to drag your panicked little self out of bed as the slanting white brows raised at you amusingly

“mhm, and you hate these stupid muscles” “no! i mean- yes, n-”

“y/n, i expected more”

god fucking damn, what was his cursed technique? to flatter people? you pulled a passive-aggressive face in defence of your shattering pride, and begin “h-how long have you been standing there?”

Gojo answered your question with the teasing smile on his face, and he chuckled before asking with a tilt of his head to watch your reaction “correct me if i've been reading this all wrong but.... you like me”

your figure shrinks at the claim and that definitely satisfied Gojo, his breathy hum confirming it further

“mm?” he hums slowly, as if coaxing a child to admit their wrong doings “cat got your tongue y/n?” just say it, say it, say it. you breath in.

“i like you” “say that again” “...i like you”

you know he would not let you live that down even if you were to end up having kids—but fuck that, you thought, the cat's out of the bag anyway.

“dunno i had such a weird taste in men but i just really enjoy spending my time with you and you've really become someone special to me and-”

“don't even tell me, i already know. i just needed to get that out.” he knows he shouldn't be mean, not when he feels the same about you, but can he help his obsession with your flustered red mess of a face?

you know he's trying too hard to tease you. cruel fucking bastard. “wait until i kill you”

“yeah?~ what're you trying here? to make this seem like a lovers' quarrel?” he chuckles, prolly wants to redden your puffy cheeks a little more before giving in.

“i'll punch that smirk off your face, Satoru!” “try me, i dont need to try getting you on your knees before me”

“oh, do you think of that image a lot?” you say lifting an eyebrow, perfect chance to make him taste his own medicine.

oh. Gojo blushed.

“w-well, what i think is... maybe our feelings are mutual” says after clearing his throat as he slowly regains his composure. “i have this weird feeling when i'm with you, can't explain it, but it's a good feeling...”

your usual instinct of fighting began to fade at his words as both of you stood in middle of the room in an awkward state, trying to fight the urge to smile

“hah, can't believe i never noticed it before, but you're kinda hot when you're angry. maybe that's why i loved pissing you off”

yes, that's when Gojo managed to break your last straw and make you blush at the same time “well then, take this!” his infinity stopped your little punch

“meanie!” he chuckles again, holding your fist softly

“okay little baby, no sulking. if a punch makes you feel better you can punch me. lightly.” he said in his silvery voice as he turned his infinity off, kissing you nice and soft...

(you ignored his last word)

A/N : i hope people this is one ^-^ i personally enjoyed this heheskks likes & reblogs are appreciated! ♡

Tags : @robynnnhooddd @nanamikentoseyebags @luckimoon @dazailover1900 @jspenft @tamakin7 @daquila @jkhlhjkjkjhkl @horrendous-introvert

#highschool gojo x y/n #highschool gojo #gojo is a tease #gojo satoru #gojo headcanons #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x y/n #jjk headcanons #gojo fluff #gojo hcs #gojo satoru x reader #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x female reader #spoiler free headcanons #gojou satoru x you #jjk fluff #jjk 221

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klbwriting · 2 months

Text

Finally Home - Jason Todd Blurbs

Jason Is Sick

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Jason has the flu so you spend the evening taking care of him

Note: These just keep getting cuter to me

You were shocked that Jason was actually taking a night off, at least you were when he called you at work. He seemed fine, telling you that Bruce and the others were going out and that he was staying in. It worried you, why would he stay in? He loved patrolling, protecting the city, taking out the bad guys, and even sometimes, he liked hanging out with his brothers, even if he wouldn’t admit that. So you were expecting the worst when you got home from your day job. And it was smart for you to be suspicious.

Jason was on the couch, three blankets over him, head on a pillow and the normally neat coffee table was covered in tissues. You closed the door, and he looked up, eyes red and watery, nose rubbed raw from tissues, his face pale and sweating. He looked terrible and your heart ached.

“Jaybabe, what happened, you were fine earlier?” you asked, setting your stuff from work aside and going over to kneel by the couch. He sniffled and shrugged. “Did you take anything?”

“Nah, nothing’s in the house to take and I can’t move, everything hurts,” he groaned. You sighed and kissed his head. He had a little fever; you assumed the flu was running roughshot through his system.

“I’m going out, I’m going to get you some flu meds and then I’m coming back and making you soup, ok?” you said. Normally Jason would get up, say he was fine, and he would do it, so when he just stayed there and nodded you knew he was going to be laid up for at least another day. Jason Todd was one of the strongest men you had ever met, and you hated seeing him like this, completely unlike himself. You kissed his head again and ran out to the corner store, getting everything you needed. You were met halfway home by a costumed Dick Grayson.

“How is he?” Dick asked. You could see his concern despite his mask.

“He is fine Nightwing, I’ve got meds and soup stuff, and he will be back patrolling soon,” you said. Dick nodded and handed you a bag.

“Batman thought he might want this,” he said. You took the bag and peeked in, smiling softly.

“That was thoughtful, I told him he shouldn’t have left it behind,” you said. Nightwing hopped back on his bike and took off and you headed home.

After giving Jason his meds, you went about making soup as Jason fell asleep watching Food Network. You finished and tasted it, still a little peeved it never would taste as good as Jason’s did when you were sick, but you got him a bowl and some crackers, along with water and set it on the coffee table, gently coaxing him awake.

“Come on baby, let’s sit you up,” you said, gently helping him sit. He crossed his legs and tried draping the blankets over him still. You laughed and set the soup in his hands and then wrapped the blankets around him yourself before going and getting what Dick had given you.

“Bruce sent this over, thought you might want it,” you said, gently offering him the stuffed Teddy Bear. He stared at it for a moment before reaching out and taking it, setting it in his lap as he ate your soup. You sat down on the end of the couch, putting on The Lord of the Rings, knowing that Jason would love a good comfort movie. He ate silently, almost finishing the soup before setting it down. He scooched and laid his head in your lap, and you started gently petting his hair, glad to feel that he was no longer warm to the touch. You hoped the meds worked overnight and he would be back to normal in the morning.

“Your soup was good,” he said softly. You smiled. “Not as good as mine though.”

“Bat brat,” you called him, gently smacking his shoulder. He laughed and snuggled into your lap more.

“I love you YN,” he whispered sleepily, eyes closing. You leaned down and kissed his head again.

“I love you too Jason.”

#jasontodd #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #redhood #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #jasontoddblurbs

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little-emerald-snake · 6 months

Text

Kinktober Day 19

Double Penetration - Sebastian Sallow X Ominis Gaunt X F!MC

🔥NSFW 🔞 MDNI

1.7k words

Sebastian was hot on her heels as she quickly made her way from the quidditch pitch toward the castle. Her face was red with shame as Seb tried to calm her nerves and get a grip on her robes to slow her down. “Hey! Would you slow down love! Seriously, it's no big deal! I’m just surprised is all! Look, I’m sorry for embarrassing you! Slow down so we can talk about this.”

They’d been hidden away under the quidditch stands alternating between kissing and telling each other fantasies when Sebastian had coaxed a rather juicy one out of his girlfriend.

She’d admitted to liking the idea of having two men fill her at the same time. She’d wanted to try two in one hole but said she wasn’t sure if she would be able to take it and would settle for one in her pussy and one in her ass.

Sebastian had admitted it would be rather hot and immediately went to teasing her about which friend he’d ask to help fulfill her fantasy. She’d gone bright red and bolted, leaving Seb trailing behind, trying to apologize for scandalizing her.

Once he’d caught up to her, finally snagging a hold of her robes, he pulled her around to a part of the castle wall where they could talk without being overheard. “Love, please. I’m sorry for teasing you. But I really do want to do this with you if you’d really be interested.”

She was quiet for a moment, milling over who they would possibly choose and what that person would say about their ‘extra curricular activities’. She finally grasped his sleeve anxiously and nodded. “F-fine. But only if we find someone to agree…someone who won’t out us to the whole school preferably.”

Sebastian chuckled, pulling her close and rubbing her back gently. “Love, you do realize half of this school's population would kill to shag you, right?”

She pulled back, playfully punching his arm. He only laughed, pulling her close for a hug before taking her hand and leading her inside and castle. “Would you like to hear my first idea?”

She was toying with the hem of her sleeve nervously as they walked. She was clearly anxious but she nodded, looking up at him with a question in her eyes. “I think Ominis would…he definitely wouldn’t say a damn word about it if he didn’t want to at the very least.”

She thought for a moment and had to agree that she could never see Ominis doing something like that to her or Seb, even if he was totally scandalized by the idea. “I-if you’re sure. Would you mind asking him by yourself? L-like I’m just nervous to hear the conversation…in case he is shocked.”

Sebastian nodded and assured her that he would take care of it. He was fairly confident that Ominis would be game for it. They’d never shared a girl before but in a drunk conversation one night he hadn’t been opposed to the idea Sebastian had brought forth randomly.

He made his way to his dorm room where he knew his best friend would be at this time, slowly knocking and entering to see the blonde leaned back in his bed against his pillows with a book in one hand and his wand in the other, tip pressed to the page as he looked up towards the door. “Sebastian?”

Sebastian stepped inside and shut the door behind him before walking to sit on the side of Ominis’ bed. “Hey, Om. I actually have a pretty personal question. Do you have a minute?”

Ominis’ brows lifted but he closed his book and placed it to the side, sitting himself up and looking in Seb’s direction. “Of course. Is this something that’ll make me want to hit you or will we be okay?”

Sebastian chuckled a bit, running a hand through his brown curls. “Ha, about that. You may want to hit me but I don’t think it’ll be for the reason you’re expecting. It does involve my girlfriend though so don’t be too mad.”

Ominis inhaled and nodded. He wasn’t sure what to expect but he was preparing for anything. After all, it was Sebastian.

Sebastian nervously picked at the hem of his robes and sighed. “Well, me and her were talking…about things we’d like to explore. One we both landed on was…a threesome…or more specifically double penetration…”

Ominis’ brows raised again but he said nothing, giving a curious look. “Are you asking for advice? An opinion? I don’t exactly see how I’m invol…oh! Oh shit! You thought of me?!”

Sebastian swallowed hard, plucking the fuzz from the blanket beneath him anxiously. “Yea. Figured we both agreed on you and even if you weren’t down for it you wouldn’t air out everything for the whole school.”

Ominis was surprised but nodded, looking down and contemplating how that would go. “Well, you are correct. I won’t tell anyone, that’s for sure. I guess you both don’t have a second option picked out do you?”

Sebastian shook his head even though he knew his friend wouldn’t see it. “No. You were our first and only choice really. I honestly thought you’d be kinda into it…since I know you had a crush on her before we started dating and all.”

Ominis nodded again, a grim expression on his face. “Yes. That’s true. Well I suppose I’ll agree. If nothing else it could be some fun to take my mind off of the increasingly hard school work as of late. Plus it’ll satisfy a craving for all of us. I can hardly see the harm.”

Sebastian cleared his throat and blew a relieved breath before they made a plan. This Friday after classes they’d take a bottle of firewhiskey to the Undercroft and fulfill their little fantasy for her.

~~~

By the end of the week she was anxious, hugging her books to her chest as she peered around, making sure none of her classmates spotted her heading to the Undercroft.

But after just a bit of teasing and two shots of firewhiskey they had her undressed on the large bed Sebastian had conjured, big enough for all their group activities.

Ominis was fully undressed, laid out on the sheets as Sebastian laid his girlfriend across his best friend's chest, using his fingers to tease her open and get her ready.

Once he was satisfied he helped her straddle Ominis and sink her hips down onto his pale girth before climbing behind her, between his best friend's legs and using a lubrication charm to begin stretching her other hole.

She lightly rocked her hips on Ominis, driving strained groans from the man below her as Sebastian’s fingers stretched her. “Fuck, Seb…just want you now. Feels so good, need to be fucked…”

Sebastian growled, eager to give into his pretty girlfriend's cries. He pulled his fingers out, lined up to carefully slide into her. She whimpered and moaned at the stretch. One felt good but two were intense. She’d never had any feeling like it before but it excited her and she could hardly wait till they both moved inside of her.

After allowing her to adjust a but, Sebastian wasted no time in slowly sliding her hips forward and back onto them. Both men groaned as she molded perfectly around them. Holes tightening as she experienced the new feeling of being so incredibly full.

Sebastian gripped her hips and rutted gently into her, eliciting a pleasured sigh to fall from her lips. Ominis pulled her down with a hand on the back of her neck and swallowed the whimpers she made as Sebastian’s thrusts continued, rocking her back and forth so that both men were sliding in and out of her at the same time.

Before long she was hyper fixated on the small space between their cocks, how incredibly full she felt between her legs. She clenched and tensed around them in utter bliss as her holes swallowed both cocks greedily.

Ominis had taken to holding her hips in place and thrusting up inside of her while Sebastian took advantage of the position and fucked into her with fervour. She was a moaning, soaking mess between them.

She was absolutely on cloud nine. Both holes spasming around them. She cried out loud when she finally caved to the delicious friction of them and came hard, tightening impossibly so around them both.

It had been the most intense orgasm she’d ever felt but neither man slowed their pace which only drove her further into a frenzy. She was spasming so intensely around both of them that Ominis fell apart next, cum flooding her tightness as she came once again around him.

Sebastian wasn’t far behind, grinding out his pleasure as long as he could before he finally groaned with release, hips stuttering against her round ass as he collapsed over his girlfriend, still mounted on his spent best friend. “Oh, fuck…”

She laid across Ominis chest, hair in her face and tits pressed against his pale chest as Sebastian finally sat up and gently slid out of her perfect body with a sigh, toppling over to one side of the bed and reaching for his wand to clean up.

Ominis wiggled to the side and gently rolled her off to lay between him and Seb. She whimpered when he slid out but made no other protests. Ominis kissed her temple gently and pushed her hair out of her face with care.

She let a sweet smile across her lips as Sebastian leaned up on his elbow on her other side with a blissed out smile. “Damn, you guys are hot. Was it as good as you thought it would be, love?”

She turned to look at Seb and smiled, giving a small nod. He could tell by the glow of her cheeks that she had thoroughly enjoyed the experience. He gave a wolfish grin, leaning in close to her ear. “What if we convinced Ominis to make this a more…permanent arrangement?”

Her eyes widened and so did Ominis’ from her other side. Seb smiled at the reaction from them both as he leaned back and took in the moment of himself, his beautiful girlfriend and his beautiful best friend together in bed. “Yea. I think this is something I could get used to.”

Kinktober Prompt List

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #writing challenge #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt smut #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow smut

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mariasont · 29 days

Text

Our Minds Entwined-----------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10

MDNI----------------------------------------------------------------

pairings: aaron hotchner x oc x spencer reid

summary: in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest, brightest member

warnings: implied smut, evelyn annoying the fuck out of hotch pt 2

Chapter Nine:

The morning light filtered in Evelyn's bedroom, casting a lazy glow across the room as Spencer's kiss melted into Evelyn's lips. She stretched languidly across the bed, the soft fabric of her lounge set--a cozy ensemble chosen for the day's travels--wrinkling beneath her. The scent of mint lingered in the air, a fresh reminder of her morning routine now complete. Spencer stood, the sheets sifting, his departure slow and reluctant.

"You're not leaving me already, are you?" Evelyn's words were a playful whimper, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal a hint of feigned distress. Her hand lazily patted the empty space beside her as if to say there was no good reason for him to get up just yet.

"I'm going to engage in a necessary biological process commonly referred to as 'using the restroom'," Spencer said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile. "You're very needy in the morning,"

"'M not," Evelyn protested with a drawn-out whine, but she puckered her lips in a pout that begged contradiction, her hands pulling on his sleeve. "Round two?"

Spencer's laughter was a soft rumble, his lips grazing the delicate spot beneath her chin, causing a ripple of giggles to escape her. "Tempting as it is, I should get out of here before Hotch shows up. I'm not sure 'we were just analyzing sleep patterns' would fly as an excuse."

"Yeah, I doubt he'd buy that."

As the bathroom door closed behind Spencer, Evelyn sank back into the pillows. Casual was a term she had never associated with sex before--yet here she was in a no-strings attached arrangement. The simplicity of it all was good and so was the sex--god the sex was good. Evelyn never knew it was possible to want to have it all the time, yet here she was feeling like she could jump his bones at every minute of the day.

Spencer re-entered the room, his eyes sweeping over the space with an inquisitive glint. The room was a reflection of Evelyn herself--unapologetically girly, with walls adorned with soft pastel shades and shelves lined with an array of romance novels. He paused at the collection, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

Evelyn shot him a look, her arms crossing defensively. "Listen, not everyone finds the dictionary to be a page-turner."

"I didn't say anything," Spencer replied, his hands raised in surrender, the ghost of a smirk on his face.

"You didn't have to," Evelyn retorted, "I could hear you thinking it."

Spencer's fingers grazed the spine of particularly worn novel. "May I?"

"Hands off, pretty boy!" Evelyn's protest was cut short as she bounded from the bed, trying to intercept Spencer's reach for the book.

Spencer's chuckles echoed in the room, the book just out of Evelyn's reach as she hopped in vain. With a quick, fluid motion, he captured her wrists with one hand, and with a gentle firmness, her pressed her against the wall. She stood on her tiptoes, the top of her head barely reaching his chin.

"Spencer Reid, if you don't put that book down this instant, I'll--" Evelyn demanded.

"Patience," he replied, the pages flipping rapidly under his gaze. "I'm conducting research."

"Research, huh? In that case let me assist," she trailed off, her hands catching the hem of his shirt, coaxing him back to the bed.

With a laugh, Spencer closed the book. "Evelyn, Hotch will be here any minute. Are you even packed?"

"Of course, I am," she replied, "I'm just gonna miss our nights together while I'm gone, Dr. Reid."

"I'll miss you too," Reid admitted. "Did you know that the heart doesn't actually 'miss' in a literal sense? It's a brain colloquialism for the activation of the brain's reward system, particularly the anterior cingulate cortex and insula, which respond to emotional stimuli..."

Spencer's lecture on the heart was cut short by a sudden, firm knock on the door. Evelyn's eyes widened as she darted a glance through the window, spotting the familiar black SUV outside.

"It's Hotch," she hissed, a note of urgency in her voice. "Please tell me you parked in the garage."

"I did," Spencer assured her, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Okay you stay here," Evelyn directed, her gaze flickering from Spencer to the door as she snatched up her suitcase. "Make sure you wait until we're gone to leave, mkay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Spencer replied, a soft chuckle in his voice, punctuating his words with a gentle tap on her ass as she made her way out.

Evelyn moved to the door with a fluid grace, pulling it open to find Hotch in an uncharacteristically casual stance. He was dressed down for the flight in a soft, gray henley that accentuated his build, paired with jeans that were a far cry from his usual suits. She found the sight disarmingly attractive. Hotch, in turn, was struck by how Evelyn's casual outfit clung just right, only seeming to enhance her natural elegance.

"Morning, sunshine," she chimed, her smile sharp and gleaming as she tore her gaze from his body.

Hotch's gaze fell to the overstuffed suitcase at her feet, one brow arching higher than the other. "Planning to move in, or is that all for three days?"

"Oh, Hotch, you wouldn't last a day with me as a roommate. I'm a handful and then some," Evelyn teased. "And this," she gestured to herself, "takes a suitcase full of effort. It's not sorcery, but it's close."

Hotch watched her with a measured gaze, finding himself momentarily lost in thought. Inwardly, he doubted the necessity of her suitcase's contents. She hardly needed meticulous preparation to look the way she did. It was a thought, he chastised himself for having, he was her boss, and such considerations were definitely beyond the scope of the role.

Evelyn made a move for the suitcase, but Hotch was already one step ahead, effortlessly hoisting the luggage before she could. Side by side, they walked to the car, their footsteps in quiet accord. With a swift motion, Hotch stowed the luggage in the car, and they both climbed into the car.

Evelyn settled in and her gaze fell to a coffee cup awaiting her. "Hotch, is that for me?"

Hotch started the engine, feigning indifference. "Let's just say I prefer my mornings peaceful, and a caffeine-deprived Evelyn is anything but."

She grinned, noting the vanilla scent wafting from the cup. "And you got my favorite?"

"I make it a point to remember the important details--unlike like someone."

"You know, I had a feeling you'd bring that up," Evelyn said with a roll of her eyes. "A girl's entitled to one coffee mishap, isn't she?"

The early morning drive to the airport was a quiet affair, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional melody that Evelyn couldn't resist singing along to. It seemed that every song on the radio was her 'favorite,' and she serenaded Hotch with a gusto that was inversely proportional to her musical accuracy. Hotch's expression might have read as mildly pained, but in truth, he found her off-key notes unexpectedly charming.

Evelyn navigated the narrow plane aisle with a practiced grace, sliding into the middle seat. On the window side, Hotch had already claimed his spot, his gaze fixed on the world outside. The aisle seat remained vacant but not for long. A man, older and with a certain disheveled charm that bordered on sleazy, soon occupied it.

His suit was a tad too shiny, the kind that tried too hard to impress, and his hair was slicked back in way that seemed to defy both age and gravity. Evelyn, ever the person she was, didn't seem to mind as she offered him a polite smile, the kind that was courteous yet distant. The man returned the gesture, revealing a gold tooth that glinted in the cabin light.

"Well, isn't this cozy?" the man started, "I must say, you make our cramped quarters seem rather pleasant."

Evelyn flashed a polite smile. "That's very kind."

Hotch sat quietly, his gaze fixed on the exchanged with an intensity that betrayed his calm exterior. His protective instincts were fully engaged, a subtle tension visible only in the slight clench in his jaw. He watched as Evelyn navigated half the flight with her usual poise, responding to the main's veiled advances with nothing more than polite nods and neutral smiles.

Oblivious to any underlying intentions, she carried on with an air of kindness, her attention occasionally drifting to the window. Hotch, ever watchful, noted the subtle cues--the way the main leaned in, the too-warm chuckles, the searching glances. Yet, Evelyn seemed unaware.

"Your choice of material is quite... enlightening," the man remarked, his knee brushing against Evelyn's for the umpteenth time.

"Oh this?" Evelyn remarked casually, holding up the romance book. "Just a little light reading for the flight."

The man chuckled, his tone dripping with innuendo. "Careful, those can set quite the mood. Might be more than you bargained for."

Confusion flickered across Evelyn's features, failing to grasp the full intent behind the man's comment. Hotch, however, was all too aware, his patience wearing thin with each 'accidental' contact between the man's knee and Evelyn's.

In a moment of quiet resolve, he leaned towards her, his voice a soft murmur meant only for her ears. "You said you prefer the window seat, correct?"

Evelyn's eyes widened, the corners of her mouth curving into a smile of genuine surprise. "Are you offering it to me?"

He confirmed with a simple nod, his eyes holding hers with a gentle firmness.

She lowered her voice, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "You're just full of surprises today, aren't you? I better start taking notes; the team's never going to believe this."

Evelyn stood up, her movements betraying a slight reluctance as she moved to switch seats. Meanwhile, Hotch stood from his seat, his stature filling up the limited space between them. As Evelyn edged by, the proximity caught her off guard, sending a surge of warmth through her, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

"Oh, sorry," she breathed out, barely audible, as a wave of crimson flooded her cheeks, her mind chastising her for the clumsy encounter.

Hotch offered a silent nod, his own heartbeat imperceptibly faster.

Time stretched on and as the drone of the engines filled the cabin, Evelyn rose yet again, her movements fluid yet mindful in the confined space. The narrow space forced Evelyn to turn her back as she edged by, her focus solely on the beckoning call of the restroom. Hotch, his composure momentarily slipping, masked his distraction with a cough that sounded almost strained against the quiet chatter.

Hotch was a man of control, yet as Evelyn moved past him, her presence was undeniable and quite literally right at eye level just like her ass. The fabric of her attire accentuating her every move, leaving an imprint on his watchful eyes that lingered longer than necessary. Hotch's gaze followed her every move, tracking her discreetly until she merged with the aisle.

The man beside Hotch, leaned in closer than necessary. "Quite the view, huh?" he commented in a hushed tone, a sleazy grin spreading across his features.

Hotch's expression hardened, his jaw setting a firm line. Facing the man, his eyes were steely, his voice a low rumble of warning, "I'd suggest you keep your observations to yourself. It's a long flight, and I'd hate for it to become any longer for you."

The remainder of the flight passed without incident, the earlier tension dissolving into the cabin's recycled air. Evelyn, none the wiser to the exchange between Hotch and the man, mused to herself about the sudden peace.

As they disembarked in Miami, Evelyn and Hotch were greeted by the warm air that wrapped around them like a welcoming shawl. The hotel loomed around them, a sprawling resort nestled amidst lush gardens and shimmering waters.

"Hotch, look at this place! I think the Bureau's expense department got their wires crossed," Evelyn gushed as they entered the lobby, where her attention was swiftly stolen by the sight of the pool through the floor-to-ceiling windows. "I half expect to see a celebrity or two lounging by that pool. Speaking of which, how strict do you think they are about conference attendees taking a 'research break' in the water? Asking for a friend, of course."

"Evelyn," he began, "what you do in your free time is at your discretion. However," he continued, his gaze locking onto hers, "we have a dinner engagement this evening with some key figures from the conference. It's an informal setting, but impressions matter. I trust you'll bring your usual insight and professionalism to the table."

"Professionalism? Oh, you've got it, boss man. I'll be the picture of professionalism--so much so, they might just mistake me for you," she teased, her grin suggesting she was only half-joking. "As long as you keep me on the guest list for these conferences."

Hotch's gaze lingered on Evelyn for a moment, a silent warning conveyed in the briefest of looks. "I need to meet with some representatives from the BSU," he said, "Here's your room key," he added, handing her a small envelope with a practiced hand. "Remember, 'be good' isn't just a suggestion, it's an expectation."

"Oh, Hotch, when have I ever been anything but good?" Evelyn asked, batting her lashes with an exaggerated innocence.

Hotch offered nothing but a deadpan look in response to Evelyn's words, the unamused mask firmly in place as he turned and walked away with measured steps.

Evelyn's delight was unmistakable as she made it to her room. The space was more than nice--it felt luxurious. From the plush bed to the breathtaking view that beckoned from the window. But the room couldn't contain her restless energy for long. She swiftly changed into a comfortable pair of jeans and tank top.

Evelyn's casual stroll through the hotel brought her to a halt outside a bustling conference room where Hotch stood, surrounded by a circle of professionals. One woman in particular caught her eye--a vibrant figure with a small tattoo adorning her exposed shoulder, her proximity to Hotch just shy of intimate. Her laughter rang out, a decibel too high, piercing the hum of conversation. The sound seemed to echo in Evelyn's ears, stirring an unfamiliar jealously as she watched, a sense of possessiveness she hadn't anticipated washing over her.

"What am I doing?" Evelyn questioned herself, a frown marring her usually carefree expression. She shook her head, trying to scatter the unexpected feeling that clouded her thoughts. She was already with one coworker. With one last look at Hotch and the woman, she turned, her footsteps echoing through the hall.

The evening had settled over the resort, casting a soft glow of the evening lights. In her room, Evelyn stood before the mirror, draped in a black dress that embraced her form with an almost immoral familiarity. The neckline offered a glimpse of the swell of her breasts that made her second-guess the appropriateness for dinner. She pondered if the dress crossed the line from chic to scandalous, especially since Hotch had left the dress code to her imagination.

As she reached for her lipstick, a knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

Opening the door, she was greeted by the sight of Hotch. His dark suit was crisp, the lines clean and authoritative, setting off the steely look in his eyes. For a fleeting second, Evelyn found herself at a loss for words, her usual quick-witted banter deserting her. She marveled at the sharpness of his jawline, the intensity of his gaze.

She blinked, a rush of warmth flooding her cheeks as she took a moment to appreciate the man before her. Regaining her composure, she greeted him. "Well, if it isn't Agent Hotchner, looking sharp enough to cut through red tape."

His eyes softened as his gaze dragged up her figure. It was rare when words, typically his steadfast ally, seemed insufficient. Clearing his throat, he allowed a genuine smile to touch his lips. "Evelyn, you look beautiful."

The unexpected warmth in Hotch's voice sent a flutter through Evelyn's stomach. A blush crept up her cheeks as she stammered. "Oh--uh, thank you, hotch," she managed, her voice a notch higher than usual. She stepped aside, gesturing him in. "Just give me one sec, I need to... uh, apply my lipstick," she said, her hands fumbling for the cosmetic.

As Evelyn carefully twisted the tube of lipstick, she began to speak. "So, who exactly is going to be at this dinner...?" She trailed off, focusing on the precision of the crimson shade as it glided over her lips, forming an 'o' shape. "And the seating arrangements, I hope they're not too formal. It's always so awkward to make conversation when--"

Hotch found himself unexpectedly transfixed, leaning casually against the doorframe yet entirely absorbed by the scene before him. Evelyn's lips, parting and pressing as she spoke, were all he could see. She was speaking--something about the dinner, the guests--but the words seemed to drift away. All of it was drowned out by the delicate precision with which she painted her lips, the occasional catch of her teeth against the plush red, the way he could imagine those same lips wrapped around his cock. The mundane task, one he had never given much thought to before, suddenly seemed the most fascinating thing in the world.

Evelyn caught the distant look in Hotch's eyes and paused, her lipstick hovering mid-air. "Hotch?" she probed, a note of curiosity in her voice.

He snapped back to the present with a slight start. "Huh? Oh, yeah, sounds great," he mumbled, almost as if on autopilot.

Evelyn eyed him quizzically for a moment but then shrugged it off with a smile. "Well, I'm all set," she said, slipping her lipstick into her purse. "Shall we?"

The restaurant was a cocoon of warmth and subtle elegance, its walls adorned with tasteful art and tables set with crystal and fine china that caught the glimmers of the chandeliers overhead. As Evelyn and Hotch made their way through the hushed conversations and the soft clinking of cutlery, she felt a flutter of anticipation mixed with the slightest edge of nerves.

As Evelyn neared the table, a sharp pang of recognition coursed through her--the woman from before was there. The woman who had flirted with Hotch, her casual elegance now a sharp thorn in Evelyn's side. The closer they got to the table, the more Evelyn felt the bitter vine of jealously winding its way up, tightening around her voice. It made it all worse as she realized the same woman that was flirting with hotch was the infamous Lillian Lewis, best-selling author and behavioral analyst. She was a legend in their work.

Hotch, ever composed, acknowledged the table with a subtle nod. "Professor, gentlemen," he began, "this is Special Agent Evelyn Gideon."

The men at the table, both influential benefactors of the BAU, received her with a warmth that melted away some of her stiffness. "Agent Gideon, a pleasure," the man, Thomas Weller, remarked, his handshake warm and reassuring.

Dr. Reeves greeted her with a thoughtful nod and a smile. "Welcome, Evelyn. It's always good to see new faces in the field."

Evelyn mirrored their greetings, her smile unfurling effortlessly, softening the formality of the moment. Her voice turned to one of admiration as she tried to push aside the knot of discomfort in her stomach. Despite her confusing feelings to Hotch, game recognizes game. And Professor Lewis was one of the best.

"Professor Lewis, it's an honor. Your work on micro expressions has been a game-changer in high-stakes negotiations."

Professor Lewis gave a curt nod, her 'Thank you' slicing through the air, sharp and devoid of the earlier warmth. Her eyes, a steely grey, seemed to appraise Evelyn with a scholar's critical gaze, flickering over her with an air of polite disinterest.

As they took their places at the table, Hotch smoothly slid Evelyn's chair out for her. As she eased into it, she shot him a teasing smile. "Such attentiveness, Agent Hotchner. I wasn't kidding about taking notes, the team will need a full briefing when we get back."

Hotch leaned in, his breath a whisper against her ear. "Remember how I said being good wasn't a suggestion?"

The warmth of his breath left her momentarily dazed, a tingling sensation lingering where his words had landed. She shrugged softly at his words, shooting him a quick wink.

As the dinner conversation ebbed and flowed around them, Dr. Reeves leaned forward, drawn by the familiar ring of her last name. "So, your father is Jason Gideon?"

Evelyn affirmed with a modest tilt of her head. "The one and only."

With a scrutinizing look, Professor Lewis cut into the conversation, injecting dryly. "Must've been nice having that as your golden ticket."

The comment hung in the air, and Evelyn felt a momentary discomfort. She recovered quickly, though, with a light-hearted retort. "Well, it certainly wasn't a Wonka bar, but it did come with its own set challenges," she said, hoping to deflect the tension with humor.

Without missing a beat, Hotch offered a measured nod in Evelyn's direction. "Evelyn has earned her place on the team. Her record stands on its own."

Evelyn managed to navigate the rest of the dinner with grace, her laughter blending seamlessly into the restaurant's hum. It was easy for her to charm the benefactors just like Hotch assumed she would: the way she remembered personal details, the easy way she joked about the appetizers, or how she gracefully deflected any praise to her team, specifically her unit chief.

As the clinking of glasses subsided, Mr. Weller nudged Hotch with a knowing look. "The bureau's lucky to have someone like her," before shooting a wink to Evelyn, he added, "And hey, if you ever get tired of this guy, give me a ring, huh?"

As they prepared to leave, Hotch's hand found its way to the small of Evelyn's back, guiding her through the crowd. The warmth of touch sparked a cascade of tingles down her spine, and she couldn't help but press back against his palm, a subtle gesture not lost on the observant eyes of the professor.

"Did you hear that, Hotchner?" Evelyn teased as she pressed closer to him. "The bureau is lucky to have me."

Hotch's fingers gave a gentle squeeze on her back, his voice low and teasing. "I knew that would go to your head."

The hotel's quiet corridors echoed with the soft tread of their steps as Hotch accompanied Evelyn to her door. The distant hum of the air conditioning lent a subtle rhythm, while the floorboards yielded a soft protest against their weight.

Evelyn paused at her door, her palm grazing the cool metal of the doorknob. Her gaze flickered up to Hotch. "Guess I'm not high on Professor Blake's list, huh?"

A smile of quiet assurance played on Hotch's lips, his gaze steady. "I wouldn't quite put it that way," he murmured, his voice low. "That's just her way."

Evelyn exhaled a breath tinged with mock amusement, her gaze honing in with accusation. "Well, she sure seemed to have a different way with you earlier," she insinuated, her words just loud enough for him to catch.

"What was that?" Hotch asked, an eyebrow raised in silent invitation for her to elaborate.

"Nothing," Evelyn retorted with a swift dismissal.

Hotch shook his head, a silent chuckle in his throat.

He lingered, his eyes savoring her--the contours of her face, the curve of her beck, the line of her shoulders. Hotch found himself captivated, unable to divert his attention. As the hallway seemed to condense around them, Hotch found his gaze on the delicate bow of her lips, the color seeming to tempt him in more ways than one.

"Goodnight, Evelyn," he finally managed.

"Goodnight, Hotch," she voiced evenly, her words smooth and controlled, a veil over the wild drumming of her heart.

With a final nod, Hotch turned and walked away. Evelyn retreated into her room, the door's click sealing her inside, its sound a faint punctuation in the quiet. She exhaled a deep, satisfied breath, a serene smile playing on her lips. She moved with a soft deliberateness, preparing for bed, her slow and purposeful movements discarding the dress.

She pulled out her pajamas, the fabric soft and familiar between her fingers. A shade of blush with tiny hearts, the material hugged her just right. Dimming the lights, she climbed into the plush bed, the sheets cool against her skin.

taglist: @nonamevenus @aceofspades190

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oneofafew · 28 days

Text

@morelikeravenbore inspired me with their Sebastian Fluff Alphabet and I’ve done one for our perfect boy Ominis.

I am currently battling a fever so my brain is slightly more foggy than usual so bear with me if the details aren’t as in depth as I would have liked to go. I may revise!

Disclaimer: purely my own head canons based off my own perceptions and writing

Without further ado

🐍 Ominis Gaunt Fluff Alphabet 🐍

A - Attractive - what do they find attractive about their partner?

Being blind Ominis is going to base his attraction to touch and smell as well as the sound of your voice, there is nothing he finds more adorable than the sounds of his love ones laugh, he’s attracted to someone with similar values as his and finds himself inexplicably drawn to those he feels need taking under wing and providing guidance to.

B - Body - what is their favourite part of their partner’s body?

Their hands without a doubt, it’s his gateway to the world so he is always found holding or kissing them especially in private

C - Cuddle - how do they like to cuddle?

Despite being relatively reserved he insists on being the big spoon, purely so he can burrow his head in their hair and inhale their intoxicating scent, don’t let him always have his way though that boy needs some comfort even if he won’t admit it he secretly loves being held by his partner.

D - Dates - what does their ideal date look like?

Raised in higher classes his dates may be somewhat old fashioned and stiff to begin with, formally asking you by letter rather than verbally, always the proper gentleman he needs some time to relax and come out of his shell before he’s doing anything spontaneous

E - Equal - are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Ominis absolutely lives by the trope he should take care of his partner, he has strong opinions and this often materialises as dominance

F - Fight - would they find it easy to forgive their partner? how are they fighting?

He is well versed in navigating arguments in a mature and gentlemanly manner, he would never raise his voice and is an excellent communicator though can become quickly frustrated if his partner isn’t seeing his side of things and is prone to giving the cold shoulder now and again, though he quickly melts under their touch and sincere love

G - Gifts - how do they feel about gift giving? what are their habits when it comes to this?

Ominis is a sugar daddy and has no idea that he is, growing up with the Gaunts he has absolutely no concept of the value of money and will buy ridiculously expensive gifts “just because” which may require some gentle talking to, however he becomes very easily flustered when given a gift himself.

H - Holding Hands - when / how do they like to hold hands?

Ominis loves his partners hands so any opportunity to hold hands is always welcome even publicly though he’s mostly subtle about it

I - Injury - how would they act if their partner got hurt?

Given his childhood and family Ominis is fiercely protective of his loved one, if they’re hurt or sick he’s at their side day and night making sure they’re comfortable and they make a quick recovery, he’s always projecting an air of calm (though he’s paddling like mad beneath the surface like a swan)

J - Jealousy - do they get jealous easily? how do they deal with it?

Ominis is fairly self assured and isn’t quick to get jealous, but if he does happen to find himself feeling that twinge he will bottle it up and opt to be extra attentive rather than actually talk about his insecurities, it takes a fair amount of coaxing to get him to speak up.

K - Kisses - how do they like to kiss their partner?

Ominis loves to kiss their hands, given any opportunity his bringing them to his lips, actually kissing though takes a lot of courage for him, it takes him awhile to open up and relax but rest assured once he’s found his confidence he’s not afraid to make a move, though he is always gentle and rarely messy

L - Love Language - what’s their love language?

Acts of service and gift giving are his two go to love languages when he’s smitten, the later can become somewhat problematic if he’s not reigned in fairly quickly given enough patience physical touch becomes another one of his favourites

M - Mornings - how are mornings spent with them?

Ominis is always up early, no matter what the day he rises with the sun only to take little cat naps throughout the day, he finds lie-ins tedious and pointless and will insist his partner rise with him.

N - Nights - how are nights spent with them?

Despite being up early Ominis rarely sleeps at night, whilst he takes pleasure in going to bed early he often finds himself laying awake for hours listening to the strange sounds around him unable to settle he finds comfort in having someone beside him to take care of whilst they sleep and finds it easier to sleep with company

O - Open - when would they start revealing things about themselves? how would they do it?

Ominis would take his time to open up to someone, given his nature he’s not the most forthcoming of people but once he does open up he’s prone to dropping random tidbits of information into every day conversation like it’s nothing, he doesn’t like talking about himself or his past and prefers to focus on his partners needs.

P - PDA - how comfortable are they with pda?

Ominis values his personal space, he doesn’t like being touched without his consent or prior knowledge, he’s very gentlemanly so PDA isn’t really on his radar though he’s very affectionate in private the most you’d get from him out in the open would be hand holding until he’s fully opened up to you

Q - Quirk - what is a random ability that helps the relationship?

His patience and gentle nature, despite his life he’s a very caring soul and enjoys being the caregiver in the relationship, his ability to sit and talk for hours until an issue is resolved helps smooth out any problems the relationship may face

R - Romance - how romantic are they? cliche or creative?

Ominis is very cliche in the romance department, roses and jewellery, having learnt it from books rather than example, he needs a creative partner to balance him out

S - Security - how protective are they?

Immensely protective, without being overbearing, Ominis will follow you into the shadows if it meant keeping you safe despite not wanting to go himself, his protectiveness is a cause for a majority of your arguments especially if as a partner you tend to be quite reckless

T - Talking - what do they like to talk about?

Ominis has the ability to converse on almost every topic known to wizard kind, he has a broad knowledge and is happy to debate and share his beliefs, though his guilty pleasure is gossip that boy cannot resist eves-dropping on his class mates and relaying the juicy details to his partner afterwards

U - Understanding - how well do they know their partner?

Ominis takes his time to get to know someone before opening up himself so he knows his partner very well probably better than they know themselves right down to their little mannerisms

V - Vaunt - what are they proud of? do they like to show their partner off? He prides himself on being able to take care of his loved one so will happily let anyone who asks know exactly who their partner is, whilst he believes he’s very subtle about it it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

W - Whole - would they feel incomplete without their partner? Ominis had learnt from an early age to be by himself to rely on no one and take care of himself so he tends to regress into his shell without his partner around becoming withdrawn and quiet if he goes a long period of time without them.

X - XOXO - are they affectionate?

In private Ominis can be very affectionate given time, kissing playing with hands, gentle touches are his go to, he often becomes flustered however if he’s not the one to initiate it.

Y - Yearning - how well do they cope when they’re separated from their partner?

Ominis fares well by himself and would never openly admit he yearns his partner’s presence despite missing them, his protective streak however lends to him feeling anxious without them and he’d often be found pacing until he knew they where safe again.

Z - Zzz - what are some sleeping habits of theirs?

He’s well known for his intermittent cat naps throughout the day, he very rarely sleeps at night but enjoys being close to his partner whilst they sleep and is always the first to suggest they go to bed.

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #headcanon #fluff #fluff alphabet

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