#my drawing mood has been a little dead but it's slowly coming back | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strangemagicc · 6 months

Text

WADWSH | Chapter Two - The Date

masterlist | <prev | next>

pairings: 2000s!actor!Steve x fem!Reader, 2000s!bestfriend!Eddie x fem!Reader, love triangle, (based loosely on the movie Win a Date with Tad Hamilton)

summary: your date with Steve Harrington 🩵

author’s note: Are any of us surprised that Steve won the poll? No. Does that mean I will reveal who steals reader's heart? Still no, we're on this ride together 😉 but you might get one final chance to persuade me

w/c: 6.4k - this one got away from me lol

warnings: pining / angst, mentions of parental death, living in poverty, let me know if I missed anything!

The trailer was warm, fans blowing high in anticipation of the nearing heatwave. Sweat clung to your chest as you paced your small kitchen, the microwave hummed, kernels heating in small spurts. You waited for the popcorn to finish, head in the clouds as the seconds ticked down. It had been nearly a month since you entered the drawing to win a date with your favorite Hollywood hunk and still you heard nothing. It felt silly to think you had a chance among the thousands, millions, of fans who had probably entered more times than you could afford. You were slowly coming to terms that your dream date was a figment of your imagination. The microwave beeped loud and shrill, the tone dying at the end of its last alert. The clunker was on its final leg. You shook the bag of popcorn, hoping the butter would stick to each kernel instead of the paper bag, and plopped the contents into a communal bowl. You grabbed more snacks, cherry Twizzlers for Eddie and mini-butterfingers for Holly who were both over for movie night and griping about what exactly the three of you would watch.

“Eddie we are not watching Friday the 13th again and plus you chose last time,” Holly rolled her eyes and made grabby hands for the remote that Eddie was holding just out of her reach.

“Excuse me for not wanting to spend ninety minutes watching Steve Harrington struggle through his lines,” he mocked, remote still lifted away from the blonde’s reach. You swooped in from the kitchen with the bowl of popcorn in one hand and grabbed the remote from his outstretched grasp with the other.

“Hey,” Eddie whined, head thrown back onto the couch.

“Sorry Ed, majority rules,” you stuck your tongue out as you climbed over his outstretched legs and settled into the cushion beside him on the couch, coils squeaking as you did. Eddie grabbed a handful of kernels and chucked them at you as he spread his legs wider, thigh brushing yours as he got comfortable. You returned the favor and watched the popcorn stick to his curls, tangling in his hair. He huffed a small chuckle, untangling them and plopping them into his mouth with an exaggerated crunch, eyes trained on you as he chewed obnoxiously.

“Ugh,” you rolled your eyes and focused on the opening credits. Mood shifting as you anticipated the moment Steve’s face appeared on the screen. The movie was a period piece set during World War Two. Lovers torn apart by war and time, never destined to be. You held in your sobs as Steve’s character confessed his love before he boarded a train. A passionate kiss and a final goodbye. His character dead before the end of the war. Eddie watched you from the corner of his eye as you shed silent tears, wiping at them to no avail as they left splotches on your shirt.

“Oh brother,” he griped around a mouthful of licorice, watching you and Holly sob as the credits rolled.

“Wasn’t that so good?” The blonde asked, eyes jumping between you and the grump at the other end of the couch.

“The last twenty minutes were my favorite,” he nodded, a knowing grin situated on his face as he looked at the two of you. The last twenty minutes Steve was noticeably absent.

“You just don’t appreciate true talent,” you wiped the remainder of your tears as Eddie laughed at you.

“Babe, I have more talent in this little pinky than Harrington has in his whole body,” he argued, grin a little smug as he stared you down, pinky wagging for emphasis.

“Oh really, I don’t recall seeing your name in lights or in any magazines,” Holly chimed in.

“That’s because I won’t sell my soul to the Hollywood machine, baby girl,” and she scoffed at the nickname.

“Sounds a lot like an excuse Munson,” she said his name as though it were a swear word.

You hopped from the couch as they bickered, tiny jabs poked into each other while you cleaned their snacks from the coffee table. Their voices were muffled over the noise of the sink but you watched as they argued, animated hands emphasizing their opposing points and chuckled to yourself. The three of you had been friends since you were kids and every Thursday night since middle school played out the same. Arguments over what movie to watch, Eddie sardonic and a little condescending whenever your latest celebrity crush was the focus of that week’s movie night. He was into blood and gore, slasher flicks from the eighties. Anything that didn’t include Steve Harrington on the cast list.

“What’s that?” Eddie’s voice was loud above the sound of the sink, grabbing your attention. You looked at him first and saw the question in his gaze before looking to where his finger pointed. Bright lights showed through your curtains casting shadows along your walls. You turned the sink off and wiped your hands with a kitchen towel, eyebrows pulled inward as you walked closer to the window.

“I have no idea,” you muttered and pulled the curtains back. A news van was lined up in front of your trailer, rows of people facing your front door and you turned back to your friends.

“It’s the news,” you stated, still unsure of why they would be at your front door.

“Eddie, what did you do?” Holly accused, shooting a side-eye his way.

“What makes you think it was something I did?” He questioned, tone only slightly offended by the accusation but the conversation was cut off by a sharp knock at the door. You stood still, eyes bulging as you looked at the door unsure of what to do.

“Well, are you going to answer it?” Eddie asked and you looked at him, panic rising. He rolled his eyes, moved off the couch with a huff, and flung open the door.

“Good evening, I’m Alexa with Fox59 is (Y/N) home?” Eddie turned to you, nodding his head in the newscaster's direction and you stared at him with a slack jaw. Unable to move or form a sentence. He shook his head at you, moving the few steps it took to grab your hand and bring you to the front door.

“Are you (Y/N)?” The newscaster asked, white teeth framed by a bold pink lipstick. You recognized her from TV, nights spent watching the late-night news. You nodded rapidly at her question still unable to find your voice.

“Congratulations!” Her voice was loud, exaggerated excitement and you weren’t sure what she was congratulating you about. Eddie took in the scene, neighbors standing in your small slice of a yard and gawking at you. The newscaster with her big red hair and overdone face smiling at you waiting for your response. The lights of the cameras were bright, almost overwhelming under their beams and Eddie could feel the heat rising to his neck at the amount of eyes that were currently on the both of you. Not to mention all those who were watching from home.

“Uh, what is this about?” He asked Alexa quietly.

“She just won a date with Steve Harrington!” The newscaster explained and Holly screamed from her place on the couch, running toward you to celebrate. Grabbing your arm as she jumped up and down at the news. Eddie stood statuesque, face a mask as he processed the news.

“Oh my god, we are so excited!” Holly screamed once more but you were stunned silent, unable to process your fortune. You’d never thought you’d call yourself lucky. The world kept spinning, Alexa talking at what felt like a mile a minute detailing your prize.

“You’ve won a first-class flight to LA, all expenses paid suite, and a shopping spree to prepare you for your date night with one of America’s biggest stars.” Your eyes grew wide as you gulped at the news, realization finally creeping in.

You won a date with Steve fucking Harrington.

“Tell me why I have to go on a date with someone from my hometown?” Steve scoffed as he turned off his TV, eyebrows set in an angry scowl.

“We need to remind everyone that you are the boy next door, that you have blue-collar roots, and that you’re not just some playboy running around tinsel town,” Jones stated as though this were obvious.

“My dad worked as the COO for a Fortune 500 and my mom got to retire early, not exactly blue-collar,” Steve huffed.

“Details schmetails, all they need to see is a big-time star returning to his roots in small-town America even if that’s just a date with a girl from Hawkins, Indiana,”

“What’s her name again?” Dennis told him, patience wearing thin.

“Oh she sounds real cute,” Steve muttered sarcastically, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he poured himself a drink.

“It doesn’t matter if she’s the next Angelina Jolie or if she looks like something from the county fair, you’re going on a date with her and you’re going to be nice,” Dennis hung up before Steve had time to argue.

“H-hello?” Steve stammered into the dead tone before throwing his earpiece off and taking a large gulp of whiskey, wincing at the sting of the alcohol. He repeated your name to himself, checking how it felt on his tongue. Steve rolled his shoulders as he thought about your date, frustration settling into his muscles.

“You have to give me every detail, how he smells, how bright his eyes really are in person,” Holly grabbed your hands as the three of you stood outside of the TSA line.

“I’ll tell you everything,” you promised.

“I want a report so good that I can smell him too, and if you kiss-“

“I doubt that’s going to happen,” you laughed, nerves settling into your stomach.

“Oh please, he’ll get one look at you and have to.”

“Don’t go wishing hell on her,” Eddie scoffed and nudged Holly out of the way pulling you into his arms. His lips settled by your ear, warm breath fanning against your skin. He smelled of bergamot and tobacco, a small hint of the spearmint gum he was chewing so he could try to kick the bad habit.

“Just have fun okay? Don’t let him be a creep or try anything slick. I will drive to Hollywood and kick his ass if he does, I promise,” you laughed against his chest knowing that he was sincere, and nodded at his words.

“I’ll try my best,” Eddie’s eyes started to turn into saucers, “to have fun.” You corrected. The time to take off was ticking down and you still had to get through security. You turned to check the line and back to your friends.

“I guess I should go before I miss my flight,” you pointed a thumb at the throng of people.

“We’ll see you Sunday,” Eddie nodded and waved you off, looking at you with a gaze you didn’t recognize. Holly watched him as he watched you, a knowing grin finding its way onto her face.

“You loooove her,” she teased after you disappeared into the line, poking at his side and Eddie guffawed. Laugh forced as his cheeks blossomed pink.

“Like a friend,” he corrected.

“Friends don’t look at each other with hearts in their eyes, you look like one of those Looney Tunes characters. Heart practically hammering out of your chest,” she was on a roll and Eddie began to walk away.

“Do you want to walk home?” He asked, attention still trained on the exit and she immediately shut up. The click of her heels light against the linoleum floors as they left the airport.

You walked off the escalator, eyes trained on the sunny streets of Los Angeles. Smile wide and eyes full of excitement. You couldn’t believe that you were here, that this was real, and that you finally made it out of the Midwest even if just for one day. There was a line of drivers situated by the exit doors, signs with last names printed on them of their lucky passengers being driven around LA. You noticed a limo behind the line of them. Black and sleek. What a dream, you thought as you continued to walk towards the front door. You stopped in your tracks, your brain finally catching up with what you had seen. You turned back around and noticed your name on one of those signs. You looked up to the burly man who held the paper and pointed to yourself.

“That’s me!” Your voice was an excited squeal.

“Right this way, miss,” and he moved to the side, hand pointed to the stretch limousine parked along the curb, the same one you had been gawking at.

“Holy cannoli,” you muttered, following him in a stupor.

“Can I take your bags?” He asked you, pointing to the only one you had with you.

“Oh you don’t have to,” you waved him off and he chuckled.

“I insist,” and he moved to grab your belongings. Freeing you of carrying the heavy weight on your shoulder. The sun’s rays were warm against your skin, air mild and cool against your cheeks. The airport was busy, cars and shuttle buses scurrying by like a little city within a much larger one. The sounds of it all were nearly overwhelming. The driver opened your door and showed you in.

“What was your name?” You asked, not noticing a name tag anywhere on his blazer.

“Anthony,” he smiled politely.

“Thanks, Anthony,” you grinned and slid into the car. The dark roof was dotted with white lights to give the illusion of the night sky, black leather seats curved on your right with a small bar situated on your left. Fully stocked with snacks and champagne, a small TV with a built-in DVD player beside it.

“This is amazing,” you beamed and looked at Anthony through the opening between the front cab and the rest of the limo. He chuckled at your enthusiasm.

“Your first time in a limo?” He asked even though it was very apparent. Still, you nodded in response.

“And LA, I’ve never been out of Indiana before,” you mentioned.

“Well, welcome to Hollywood,” he greeted. “Looks like we’re going to Noell’s. Fancy place, you have a big event tonight?” Your heart fluttered at the reminder.

“A date,” you started, “with Steve Harrington,” you squealed and it was the first time you’d said it out loud. The driver whistled at the news, eyebrows perked high on his forehead.

“You be careful with them actor types,” he suggested and you nodded wondering exactly what he meant.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence as he drove through the congested streets and you gawked at the sights. It was the first time you’d seen the ocean and you watched fascinated as the deep blue glimmered with the reflection of the sun. Dogs wore costumes, kids were dressed to the nines, and everyone had a cell phone. It was the talk of the town when the first shipment arrived in Hawkins but it seemed the norm here, like no one batted an eye at the arrival, and it’d be more of an oddity that you didn’t have one. The car slowed to a stop, idling in front of a boutique with beautiful gowns displayed in the front window.

“I’ll be waiting out here until you’re done,” Anthony stated, looking at you through the rearview as you looked at the shop and the busy sidewalks filled with people. You slid out of the car, the bright sky greeting you again. You’d imagined the air would smell like the ocean or a floral breeze, but the reality of it was far from pleasant. The smell of tobacco and stale urine filled your nose as you walked the short distance and through the front door of the shop.

“Hi there, welcome to Noell’s! I’m Amy. What are we looking for today?” The associate was petite, her small frame barely seen above the front counter she stood behind. She had a heart-shaped face, vibrant green eyes, and brunette hair down to her shoulders.

“I have a date tonight and just needed to get something to wear,” you shrugged and played absently with your hair, suddenly shy.

“Are you (Y/N)?”

“Uh yes, that’s me?” You weren’t sure how she knew your name.

“They told me the lucky girl would be stopping by today. We already pulled a few choices for you,” she waved you on and walked toward the back, assuming you would follow. Your steps were quiet behind the clack of her heels against the hardwood floors. The store was massive, a rainbow of tulle and sequins that left you gawking as you followed her through rows of dresses organized by color. Amy stopped in front of a dressing room, a large rack of dresses situated next to it with what appeared to be a dress in each color.

“We pulled these for you, but feel free to look around. You can have anything you’d like,” your eyebrows shot up as you watched her walk away and retreat to the front desk. You stood in front of the dresses and ran your hands along the fabrics, the lace of the bodices, and the intricate details of each. You wanted something that would make Steve’s jaw drop and leave him at a loss for words. Be the hot, mysterious date you told Eddie you would be. You giggled to yourself in the silence, giddy with the prospect of shocking the Steve Harrington. You pushed through the dresses they provided, but none of them were quite you. You looked outside the dressing room to the sea of dresses to choose from and began wandering the aisles, admiring the purple and blue fabrics, until your eyes stumbled upon a dress that you knew was the one. You pulled it off the rack and admired the details. It was a long deep red dress that hung from one shoulder with a black mesh overlay and a high slit.

“Would you like to try that on?” Amy was walking towards you, brunette curls bouncing as she did.

“Uh, yeah,” you nodded and handed her the dress. She walked you back to the dressing room, placing the dress on one of the hooks inside the small space.

“Just let me know if you need anything else,” she stated as she sauntered away. You stared at the dress, a little intimidated by the high slit that would reveal your upper thigh. You shook your head and swallowed your fears away as you pulled off your jeans and your shirt. The dress was smooth against your skin as you pulled it on and closed the zipper. The silk and mesh hung over your curves and fit like a glove, accentuating the fat of your ass and the size of your boobs. It was more daring than anything you had ever worn, but you felt beautiful, and this was how you wanted Steve to see you.

“How’s that one working for you?” Amy asked through the door and you unlocked it to gauge her reaction. Her green eyes widened and she smiled up at you.

“That dress was made for you,” she commented and it didn’t sound like a typical sales associate spiel.

“I’ll take it,” you affirmed as the nerves unfurled and in their place butterflies took flight.

You sat on the edge of your hotel bed, a large king-size mattress situated in the middle of the suite you were provided. The room was dipped in luxury, with a crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceilings, and a plasma TV placed on an intricate entertainment stand surrounded by cream-colored couches. You felt like Cinderella, like you were walking in a dream, and at any moment you’d wake back up in the four walls of the small trailer you’d always lived in. The butterflies were in your chest now threatening to strangle the little air you could get to your lungs as you took deep breaths and ran sweaty palms against the fabric of your dress. You’d have thrown yourself into the soft fabric of the blankets to hide if you weren’t worried about ruining the makeup you’d spent so long on. Your lips were a deep red that accentuated your pout, eyes framed by a dramatic smoky eye that made the color of them all that more intense. There was a knock at your door that broke through your thoughts and you craned your head towards the noise, eyes glued to the wood frame. Unable to will your feet to move. Another knock came, more urgent, a little less patient, and finally your feet moved. You rushed to the door, pulling it open a little klutzy and almost catching your dress on the handle. You looked down to pull it away, not even noticing the hazel eyes roaming over your frame.

“Wow,” Steve breathed, shocked by your appearance. How stunning you were. You looked at him, a small smile forming on your lips as the butterflies moved into your throat and cut your vocal cords from working. You were full-on malfunctioning.

“Hi, I’m Steve,” he extended his hand towards you and you nodded, nervous giggles erupting from your lips as you slipped your hand into his warm grasp.

“You look amazing,” he motioned to your dress as he pulled his hand from yours. Your cheeks turned a shade darker at the compliment, your smile widening.

“Y-you do too,” you stammered, having trouble not being star-struck. Steve was even more handsome in person. His hazel eyes were framed by the longest lashes you’d seen, freckles dotting his cheekbones and the line of his jaw. His sun-kissed skin was draped in a white dinner coat, a black button-up underneath only buttoned to the middle of his chest revealing a smidge of hair. You swallowed hard at the sight resisting the urge to run over fingers over the muscled flesh. Not wanting to look like one of those stalker weirdos. Steve tilted his head to the hallway, thumb pointing behind him and you finally noticed the security guards who were standing nearby.

“Should we head to dinner?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” you breathed. The words were coming easier now as the two of you walked down the hall and to the back entrance of the hotel.

“I should warn you,” he started and began digging in his jacket pockets pulling out a pair of sunglasses and handing them to you. You looked at them curiously, unfolding them and looking up at him for an explanation.

“It can get a little bright, a little intimidating.” He slid a pair of his own over the line of his nose, eyes hidden behind the dark lenses. You didn’t know what he meant but you slid them on as you descended the stairs into the private parking garage. At the bottom of the steps you were met by a swarm of photographers, the bulbs of their cameras flashing and nearly blinding as you tried to maneuver around them. Steve grabbed your hand, pulling you through the mass of paparazzi and towards the waiting limousine. You slid against the leather seat, breath coming out in anxious spurts as he closed the door behind him. Still, the photographers continued, cameras flashing and pressed against the windows for a secret shot.

“Is it always like that?” You asked, listening to their muffled voices and watching as they swarmed the car. Steve removed his sunglasses, playing with the temples but not meeting your gaze.

“Yeah, it is. The sunglasses don’t really block the lights out but at least you can hide behind them you know?” And you understood, a little hedge of protection in a flood of people wanting to intrude.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized sincerely, just now realizing how the photographers got those candid shots of Steve you always gushed over.

“Don’t be,” he smirked and looked at you, “'s what I signed up for right?” And you knew that was the common consensus, celebrities took center stage so they wanted the nonstop attention right?

“Seems pretty intrusive is all,” you shrugged and looked at your fingers resting in your lap. Steve watched you, scanning the length of your legs and the way the material hugged your curves once again.

“Let’s just have fun tonight,” he suggested, not wanting to dwell on the downside of celebrity.

“Let’s,” you agreed with a broader smile.

The restaurant was fancier than any of the ones Hawkins had to offer. The ceiling boasted an intricate pattern of hexagons and copper chandeliers, the lights set dim to create an ambiance. On one side of the restaurant, there was a glass case of wine bottles stacked from floor to ceiling, and in front of the case was a large granite bar with bar stools scattered around it. The other wall was floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, the lights of the skyscrapers like constellations. You were shown to your table by the maître d’, a private table in a room away from prying eyes. The two of you settled across from each other, a rolling table brought over with a chilled bottle of champagne and a flute filled for each of you.

“Compliments of the house,” the waiter stated and Steve smiled politely as he looked at you scan the menu with a creased brow.

“I’ll be back in just a moment to get your orders,” the man stated and walked back through the doors of the private dining area. You stared at a page of the menu, French words you didn’t understand, or entrees you’d never tasted. It was…a lot, and you felt like you were over your head.

“Not sure what to get?” He asked and you shook your head before placing your menu on the table to look at him.

“You know what I haven’t had in a while?”

“What is that?” You rested your chin into your palm as you waited for him to elaborate.

“A good burger.” Your eyebrows shot up in surprise at his cheeky grin.

“You mean to tell me,” you opened the menu, “that foie gras isn’t your cup of tea?” You looked at him over your lashes as he laughed and took a sip of champagne.

“Not really into eating liver.”

“That’s what that is?” You couldn’t hide the horror of his revelation and his chuckle grew louder.

“Want to get out of here? Get something that isn’t a filter?” You nodded your head, eyes big and full of alarm. Steve stood first extending his hand toward you to usher you out of the dining space and into the main restaurant. Just as he opened the door the waiter returned.

“Will you not be dining with us today?” He asked, concerned.

“Not feeling it tonight, but thank you for your hospitality,” Steve responded and placed folded-up bills into the guy’s shirt pocket before extending his arm for you to take. Anthony was waiting for you where you left him, a little surprised by your sudden reappearance.

“That was a fast dinner,” he commented, looking at you through his rearview to make sure nothing went awry.

“Fine dining just isn’t for me,” you assured and he nodded with a knowing grin.

“Where to?”

“Know a good burger joint?” Steve asked him as he poured the two of you more champagne from the bar.

“There’s the Seaside Kitchen right near Venice Beach,” Anthony offered with a shrug of his shoulder.

“Oh, the beach, I've never been!" You clapped excitedly.

“Let’s go there,” Steve smiled and watched your giddy excitement the entire drive.

The air smelled of salt, and the noise of the waves covered the sound of the lingering seagulls overhead. You took in your surroundings, noticing that there weren't many tourists roaming the sands with the sun long set. You spotted a bonfire in the distance, a small group crowded around it. The beach was dark and only illuminated by the nearby lampposts that glimmered a bright white. It was serene, the first quiet moment since you stepped off the plane. You and Steve wadded through the sand barefoot, feet sinking into the cold as you walked closer to the water.

“Sorry it’s not much of a view since the sun isn’t up,” Steve remarked setting a blanket he got from the limo down onto the sand as you held a box full of burgers, fries, and two cokes. Your stomach was grumbling, hunger roaring and making you queasy. You looked around once more and smiled to yourself before turning back to Steve.

“It’s perfect, I never thought I’d get to see it,” you told him and sat with your legs stretched in front of you, feet buried into the sand.

“You and your family never vacationed anywhere when you were young?” You shook your head as you chewed the bite of burger you took, swallowing it down to explain.

“My mom and dad passed when I was young so my grandma took me in. Not much you can get on social security let alone beach vacations,” you laughed and sipped on your coke. You were used to explaining and answering any child or adult when they questioned why your parents weren't at a school function or recital. Why your grandma was the only one in attendance. The sting of their deaths was now a dull wound, one that didn't make you choke back tears or want to hide behind closed doors like before.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered and you shooed his apology.

“Don’t be sorry, I didn’t have a lot but my grandma loved me and this is extra special since I’m experiencing it with you,” you took another bite and looked off into the waves. Dark blue, almost black, pushing against the white of the sand. Steve looked at you and traced the line of your cheekbones to your jaw with his gaze. A little struck. Entranced by how beautiful you were.

“Hawkins any different from when I lived there?” You looked up thoughtfully and thought of what was different.

“Well the grocery store is open until ten now but other than that I’d say it’s much the same since you left,” you giggled. Steve chewed on some fries and thought of his hometown. Thought of Hawkins High and his time as King Steve, the drives to Lover’s Lake, the nights spent at house parties or drinking by the golf course at the country club until the sun came up.

“You ever miss it?” You questioned, taking another bite as you waited for his response. He swallowed his food and took a sip of soda.

“Believe it or not sometimes this all gets old,” he waved around the scenery. “Sometimes I just miss being home in my own bubble, hanging out with friends without prying eyes and just the lack of sound. It’s so loud here.”

“It really is! I don’t know how anyone sleeps,” you chuckled around your food, holding your hand in front of your mouth so he didn’t catch sight of your chewed food.

“I didn’t sleep for the first few weeks until I adjusted to the noise, now I don’t know how I’ll sleep if I ever leave,” he shook his head and the two of you continued to eat in comfortable silence.

“What about you? Do you ever wish you could leave?”

“Sometimes, but I don’t think I’d be away for long. There’s nothing like feeling at home somewhere and that’s what I have,” you thought for a moment, “but I would get something better than what I have if I could.”

“Something better?”

“I live in the trailer my grandma left me when she passed a few years ago, and it’s cozy but I’ve never had anything that’s mine. Everything has been passed down or thrifted. Always belonged to someone else first.”

“Ever thought of your ideal place?” You dabbed the napkin against your mouth and wiped your hands, squeezing the napkin as you gave a thoughtful nod.

“Pretty sure I’ve thought of it every day since I was twelve,” you sighed as you thought of those daydreams, “My parents used to have a spread of land, acres that seemed never-ending. I used to play all day and get lost in the trees. I miss that. If I ever got my own land I would fill it up with animals and have my own garden. Maybe a library if I was lucky,” you pushed your lips together as the silence settled over you, your dreams on display for him to see.

“Like little goats and pigs?” He shared in the picture you painted, adding his own details.

“Cows too. Heard there’s nothing like snuggling one,” he choked on the soda he drank, laughing at the image of a cow lying on top of him.

“I don’t know about the snuggling,” he dismissed the idea.

“Ugh, but the little babies? Especially the furry ones? How could you not!” He stared at you with a wide smirk, eyes glimmering at your enthusiasm. A wave of embarrassment flooded through you as to how you might sound to him. The big Hollywood star who had already experienced so much, things bigger than a farm with baby cows and goats. More than you could dare to dream. You rubbed awkwardly at your hair suddenly self-conscious.

“Sorry, I must sound so small town,” you apologized and he shook his head at you reaching for your wrist so that you’d look at him. You looked where you were connected, his warm skin against yours, electricity wherever his fingers grasped.

“Don’t do that,” he chided softly, “it’s refreshing. Like I said, this gets old. I have the same industry conversations every night droning on about the next project or award season. Even in interviews I’m asked the same questions but no one really cares about the answers anymore,” he laughed as he cut his ranting off.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered, flashing an awkward smile in your direction. You placed your hand over his, rubbing your thumb against his knuckles.

“What did we say about sorry?” You chided and he nodded with a slight roll of his eyes.

“Plus, I care about the answers,” you added nonchalantly. He beamed, taking your hand as he stood and pulled you to your feet.

“Let’s dip our toes in,” he suggested and began peeling off his shoes. You kicked off your heels leaving them beside the blanket as the two of walked near the shore. The sound of the waves grew louder as you approached, the sand cold and wet but easier to walk through. You waited until the water drew closer and dipped your toe in squealing with the temperature.

“Holy shit, it’s freezing,” you turned to him but he was already watching you enthralled by your childlike wonder.

“You can’t just dip a toe in, got to go in feet first so you can’t second guess it,” he suggested but you were nervous. Afraid of the shock of the water and Steve noticed.

“Here, take my hand,” you looked at his outstretched arm, palm face up in an offering. A life raft before you plunged deeper and you took it, twining your fingers with his as you took the leap. Jumping feet first into the cold waves, squealing only slightly as they crashed over your shins and dampened the bottom of your dress. You jumped and Steve held you closer, your back to his warm chest as your toes sank into the ocean floor gradually. You could feel his heart hammering against you, felt the way his eyes were trained on you and you turned. His face was illuminated by the moon, bronze skin a little less vibrant in the evening glow. Eyes trained on your lips, face inching towards yours. Your eyelashes fluttered as you moved closer to him, your noses brushing, and his lips were a whisper against yours. He pressed fully into your pout, his lips soft and warm against yours as they moved gently. A small gasp escaped as he learned the shape of your lips, the way you liked to be kissed. Sweet and sensual. You tangled your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, chest pressed into his and his warm palms traced the line of your waist until they rested just above your ass. Steve brought your bottom lip into his mouth sucking gently and releasing it with a small pop. You hummed against his mouth, kissing him deeper and swiping his bottom lip asking for entrance. He opened for you, tongue darting against yours as he kneaded the dough of your ass. The kiss turned needy, a different kind of hunger settling into your gut but you pulled away looking into Steve’s wide gaze.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked, hands moving back up to the middle of your back. You rubbed your nose against his fondly and shook your head.

“No, no. I just,” you sighed. You didn’t want this to be a one-time thing, a speedy hookup on the beach. You wanted more and you knew you had no right to it.

“It’s getting late, and I just thought I should head back to the hotel. Get some rest. Think your agent has me on the first flight out,” you grinned at him apprehensively and worried he’d be mad.

“Sounds like the bastard,” he shook his head and nodded towards the car.

“C'mon I’ll make sure you get back,” you cleaned up your makeshift picnic and settled into the back of the limo, sitting a little closer to Steve than when the night first started. His hand settled on the skin of your exposed thigh. Rubbing circles, creating goosebumps.

Anthony pulled into the private garage and it was a relief when you saw no sight of paparazzi around you. Steve turned his attention to you after scanning the lot, hazel gaze fixed on yours.

“I had a really fun time tonight, thank you,” and he meant it, sincerity written on his face. You smiled at him, less shy than before, and placed a chaste kiss on his pinked lips.

“Thank you,” you emphasized and turned to open the door. Steve squeezed your hand one last time and watched you walk back up the stairs the two of you had descended at the beginning of the night. He was wrapped in his thoughts and completely struck by you.

tag list: @halflifejess, @allthingsjoeq, @wiltedflowersundertowers, @redbarn1995, @Thatsscarylookin, @sweetdazequeen, @the-side-blog777, @eddiesguitarskills, @hitoshislut, @slutty-thevampireslayer, @my-little-secret-diaries, @nailbatanddungeon, @mopeymopeymouse, @palmtreesx3

*if you requested to be tagged but were not listed it was because: your blog did not pull up to verify your age or there was no indication that you are 18+.

click here to be added to tag list 🩵

126 notes · View notes

cross-crye · 8 months

Text

𝖘𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖙

neuvillette x gn!reader

hurt/comfort

wc: 0.6 k

a/n: Fontaine brought me back from the dead and my new fictional bf saved me from the writing slump ive been in for months. So enjoy this hurt/comfort fic w Neuvillette. To be honest he may be a bit ooc but this is entirely self indulgent so it's fine.

For a few days now it had been drizzling in Fontaine. Anyone who had attempted to step outside their home would find themselves to be rained on ever so lightly by the suppposed tears trieckling from the Hydro Dragon's heart. To some the scent of freshly fallen rain was comforting while others' mood had only been dampened by the uncooperative weather.

The Chief Justice of Fontaine was glancing at the rain outside from the window in his office. His view was ever so slighlty obscured by the tears slowly rolling down his cheeks. Hisbittersweet moment of peacefull silence was interupted by the creak of his office door opening as his concerned lover stepped through.

"Oh mon beau... What has gotten you so down?" They asked in a sombre tone adressing the judge. Despite not seeing his damp cheeks due to his turned back they were certain of the state their lover was in.

"I simply missed you is all." Neuvillette responded, attempting to dismiss his beloved's worries. Upon hearing his repsonse their concern for the man grew tenfold. They slowly approached him, moving to stand in front of him, offering his hadns a comforting squeeze.

"We both know thats not it Neuvi" they said hoping that the endearing nickname might help soothe him even a little. "You don't have to worry about burdening me with your thoughts. Please tell me what it is that truly saddens you so I can help." they continued.

Neuvillette hesitated to answer for a while, his expression betraying his inner turmoil. Eventually he decided to give in to his conflicting thoughts and confide in his love, after all he would trust them with anything. "The last trial I judged didn't qo quite as I expected it to…" he trailed off, still hesitating to look his partner in the eye. "A man had murdered his brother's wife in a jealous fit of rage. As the gruesome details of the case were revealed during the trial I couldn't help but think of what I'd do if something like this ever happened to you. I had previously thought I understood humans but I grow more and more unsure of that with every case. Its truly something to have to see people go against what I had previously thought to be human nature, becoming so overtaken by wrath that they do teh unspeakable." Neuvillette said sadly. "Cases like this make me realise that I now have something to loose to the unreliable nature of humanity. You. Im not used to that, so when the thought becomes apparent again I… I don't know what to do about it. So I end up overtaken by emotions I don't truly understand struggling to navigate my own thoughts and feelings." He finally declared dejectedly.

"Oh love… You worry far too much my dear. Now come here" They said as they moved to embrace Neuvillette. One hand was drawing patterns on his skin through the fabric of his clothes, the other softly carding through his hair as he wept silently into their shoulder all while maintaing their embrace. They'd lean down occasionally, leaving a kiss on his forehead or cheek soothing Neuvillette with affection.

The rain was letting up as Neuvillette calmed down, his thoughts regaining momentary stability. He lifted his face from his lover's damp shoulder hands moving to trace his jawline. Those hands moved up his soft skin, moving to wipe the remaining tears from the corners of his eyes. Now that the Chief Justice was no lpnger leaning down, standing at full height his lover would lean up, slightly raising on their tip tops to kiss the tear tracks adorning his pale cheeks.

The two remained in Neuvillette's office in a comfortable silence, preffering to let their actions do the talking instead of words, showering each other in affection, love shining brightly in both their eyes.

no reposting, stealing, copying or translating my works.

reblogs, comments and likes are all highly appreciated

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #fontaine #genshin neuvillette #hurt comfort #genshin hurt comfort #genshin impact oneshot #genshin oneshot #neuvillette oneshot #x reader #reader insert #neuvillette x gn reader #genshin x gn reader

288 notes · View notes

gethoce · 1 year

Text

A Knightmare in the Underworld: Dragged Along

[Prev] - [Next]

[First]

Slowly waking up by the sound of his armour scraping against the ground Galacta Knight opens his eyes just wide enough to spot two bright orange butterfly wings located directly next to him. Startled, he pushes himself onto his feet wide-eyed.

"Morpho Knight? Where are you taking me?"

"Oh. Ye're finally awake. Pure dead brilliant, mah arm wis getting tired."

Still struggling to believe what he's seeing he looks the other warrior up and down just to make sure what he's perceiving is real. It has been a long time since Galacta Knight last met Morpho Knight. As a matter of fact, he hasn't seen them since he was sealed away aeons ago. Something feels off about them, but Galacta Knight can't quite tell at first glance.

"Come on this way. We need yer help."

They begin to pull Galacta Knight by the pauldron again using I one of their floating disembodied hands. Upon realising that Morpho Knight has no arms he feels even more uneasy.

"Help with what? What makes you think I'd be willing to help you after all that happened?"

Protesting Galacta Knight presses his heels into the ground to slow down Morpho Knight's pulling. The butterfly-winged warrior turns back to him with a deadpan expression and answers softly.

"Because I likely broke th' spell used to seal ye for ever. Galacta, pal, I've been trying to fin' a way to set ye free since th' moment th' spell connected wi' yer being."

"Took you pretty damn long if you're sincere. Besides, you clearly owed me that one."

With a flap of their wings Morpho Knight jumps behind their horned friend, grabs him by the pauldrons with both hands and begins to push him ahead.

"Ye see, mah dearest friend, all I had to work with were mere theories as to what might do th' trick, each a wee bit harder to achieve than th' next."

Reluctantly Galacta Knight walks ahead with an annoyed expression on his face. At very least he's free! Somewhat. He still feels an immense pressure weighing down on him, a cold chill in his back and an odd electrical sensation on his skin. This isn't an ordinary dimension they're in, this much is clear. Morpho Knight continues to be jolly, which does help ease the mood just a little bit.

"Foremost I hoped to convince mah dear brother to undo his spell. As ye kin see that didn't end well for me! For neither o' us pure. Only he kens the spell he used 'n' after his death he lost all his memories. For years I tried to get him to remember. Nothing!"

What could they possibly mean by that? Didn't end well for them? Swiftly Galacta Knight pushes against Morpho Knight's grip and turns around to them with anger in his crimson eyes, his voice a low growl.

"Morpho. By the stars, where are we?"

While keeping one hand on Galacta Knight's pauldron the butterfly warrior flutters into the air and gestures towards the landscape that surrounds them.

"This is th' Underworld! Allow me to show ye around!"

As quickly as they made their way into the air they land once again and begin to eagerly drag their friend along with them. Galacta Knight now feels even more confused than he did before.

"Why are we here, Morpho? … What is it you need my help with?"

At that moment Morpho Knight suddenly draws their sword and slashes it against a creature that snuck up on them, while still holding Galacta Knight with one hand. The fiend is quickly taken care of regardless.

"Damn soul eaters don't realise they're dealing wi' th' Greatest Warrior in th' Galaxy here!"

Then they turn back to Galacta Knight satisfied with their victory.

"I need yer help beating someone up. In return I'll show you how to get out of here."

"You're summoning me for another battle… of course."

Disappointed but not surprised, Galacta Knight frowns. If Morpho Knight is sincere, this may be the last time he is being summoned just to be used as a weapon. The ever-growing hope drags a nasty sense of anxiety along with it. What if things don't go as planned? Only one way to find out. Morpho Knight appears to put a lot of effort into trying to cheer him up, he notices.

"Believe me one thing, I would have wished to summon ye to hurl a few pints wi' me instead o' this no nice fankle! th' thing is, this kinch has been goin' on for few years. That I managed to fin' 'n' free ye merely coincidentally happened some time after we originally lost control o' th' situation.

Somewhat relieved Galacta Knight takes a deep breath that is very quickly released once again as Morpho Knight suddenly begins to pull on his hand again dragging him along.

"Let's have a go to think positively! it isn't everyday that ye git to see th' underworld! that is 'til ye die… then that's th' only thing ye see."

#Galacta Knight #Morpho Knight #A Knightmare in the Underworld #My Terrible Writing #Gethoce #I should have a wee bit more time than expected to draw the thing that comes after that so here is the thing that comes before the next

23 notes · View notes

giurochedadomani · 2 years

Note

My random prompt: halloween

write the boys doing something for halloween, I wish to see it

I think you may have been aiming for a way fluffier thing, but I was thinking about how the other day I wrote some nonsense about Eddie putting Billy in make up for Halloween. Cause Billy's forced to babysit Max and El, and Eddie's lame ass hasn't gotten any party invitation (and one of the Corroded Coffin members is with his girlfriend, the other has a trip with his parents, the other doesn't have anything to do on the 31, but has a party on the 30, so he's going to be so tired, and perhaps another year, you know? And so on and so on) so Billy and Eddie have a bit of a back and forth: perhaps they agree to meet after Neil and Susan come back, perhaps Billy mentions how much it sucks to have a parent-less house and dedicating it to a middle schooler sleepover, perhaps Eddie mentions that 'whatever, man, show up whenever you like, it's not as if I plan to leave the trailer this afternoon', until they finally connect the dots, and Billy blurts: how about you come over? Thinking that it's the lamest plan anyone has offered Eddie ever just for Eddie to go :DDDD yes!!!! Halloween!!!!! Of course!!!!!

And he brings a bit of decoration, a some candies, and chocolates, and his face paints!!! And El adores him, and Max is slowly becoming less wary of him (because he's Billy's friend) and more fond (in a way that is hauntingly similar to how Billy's quicky warming up to this weirdo). Although Billy has been insisting in how he won't be caught dead in a costume cause that's for middle schoolers (said to Eddie's face as Eddie puts on a very good improvised vampire costume cause Billy loves to mess with him), Billy ends up giving in to Eddie's puppy eyes and general joyful hyperness and let's him put on him some make up.

And he's in a very good mood!! He was so sure that it was going to be the worst afternoon ever and look at him, half under Eddie as he carefully puts him in position and keeps him where he wants him. And it's so nice, Eddie's so gentle as he carefully draws the skull on Billy's features. It's so nice to have him this close. And this is all so very gay.

And then a cursed thought passed through my mind: what if Neil arrived earlier.

Cause we know what he thinks about Billy, and Billy's someone who tries really fucking hard to pull off a strong, masculine appearance. Eddie, on the other hand... Well, Neil is going to think about Eddie what your average conservative douchebag thought in the 80s about metalheads.

"He's--", a friend doesn't seem the wisest course of action. "He goes to class with me". He thinks about Hellfire, and then about Max' lame group of friends, and he finally settles for a very vague, not hundred percent false: "He knows the Chief".

--And tries to ignore the vicious grip around his chest when Neil snorts and sneers: "I bet he does".

"--That way I didn't have to worry about Jane's curfew". He forces himself to take a breath. He pushes his hair out of his face and only remembers about the facepaint when his hand comes off in a darkish white. He continues cleaning, methodically, and tries not to think about grabbing the little, spilled pumpkin basket and smashing it against the floor.

"So not only weren't you capable of taking care of your sister and her friend on your own". Not smashing the pumpkin basket is harder by the moment. "You had to invite that weirdo over to prance around half naked--".

"--It was a costume--".

"--And put some make-up on you all. What are you, some kind of clown now?".

Billy wants to scream.

"--It was face painting!"

"Don't use that tone with me, boy".

Billy forces himself to take a breathe, and then another, although it doesn't seem to get past his throat. He throws the last of the candy in the basket, and the basket in a bag, in which it automatically spills again, except this time is definitely not Billy's fucking problem. "You didn't want them to go to the movies. You didn't want them to go trick or treating. I wanted to keep them entertained. So face painting it was".

The thing is.

The thing is, Hopper's a bit paranoid, but he's cool with Jane being a bit late if she calls, and has put enough of effort in getting to know Max that Jane showed up earlier with a bunch of Max' favourite chocolates. The thing is, Wayne tells Eddie to behave, but he's cool with Eddie messing up the living room for any short creative endeavor, and always makes sure to leave them some change for a pizza. And those are things that happen, but for some strange reason not to Billy.

He tears down the garlands and is not in the slightest bit surprised when Neil says: "I don't want to see you with him ever again, understood?"

#Mungrove #billy hargrove #Billy realizing that he's going through some fucked up things at home cause he's got a FRIEND and can make comparisons is my jam #Tw: abuse

19 notes · View notes

what-youd-expect · 2 years

Note

*falls in and slams on the floor*

I NEED TO KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS ON THE SKELETON GUY FROM THE CHRISTMAS MOVIE

anyway uh jack skellington for c, e, f, q, t, and y?

Alright here is yo food fellow

Jack fan!!

(For a little context Jack is DEFINITELY a borderline switch)

C for Chase!:

As a Lee Jack would definitely start by slowly backing away while most likely bable and plead before you go in for the attack. Almost always something along the lines of "w..wait y/n! pl..please rethink this!" Now with jacks spindly legs he is pretty fast. Put if you can somehow manage to do it you can topple him over with just a squeeze to the ribs causin easy pickins! He may have a 50/50 chance of getting away but if you dont wanna let him go just yet, then the cycle just repeats itself.

But as a Ler, OHOHOHOHO Is it a different story when you're the Lee. Again referencing the top text, Jack has long legs and can run pretty fast. If your running you most likely will be caught 100% of the time. You'll be l scooped up into his arms or on his lap and he'll just go to town on ya! But if you're hiding than that's a different story. He may be the king of all scares but he has a hard time if you hide really well. Just make sure the hiding spot isn't a dead giveaway, or you'll wish you'll be dead all over again. All and all Jack is pretty ruthless when it comes to being the chaser.

E for Expression!:

Jack hasn't been tickled alot ever since he was a just a kid. So he doesn't really know how to express when he's in a Lee mood only Sally can understand when he wants it. Especially when he's overworked by his job as king. When he's a ler he actually make it so that he perilously makes sure to annoy you throughout the day. Squeezing your sides as you walk past him, blowing on you neck and ears while your looking down or just straight up attacking you unexpectedly you honestly never know what his next trick is. He's one crafty king!

F for Fight!:

You DEFINITELY do not want to get into a tickle fight with this skeleton. He'll definitely give you a run for your money: those long boney fingers can do so much damage not to mention the endless onslaught of teases and jerks towards you. But if you switch places he immediately starts to sing another tune trying to get away in anyway possible! He babbles like a child and begs for mercy all the while cackling his signature pumpkin king laugh. He'll definitely try and win the battle but usually he gets tired almost immediately causing a draw.

Q for Question!:

When Jack is asked the mighty question "Are you ticklish?" He will immediately shut his mouth and become flustered with a deep orange shade (I know he's a skeleton don't fuckin judge me) He'll obviously lie poorly through his teeth...lie poorly and then immediately regret doing so as soon as you start to skitter your fingers onto him. He hates being caught in a lie when it's about how ticklish he is. Because he knows in the long run he's going to regret ever saying anything.

T for Teasing!:

Jacks favorite way of teasing his Lee's is that he likes to start hovering his fingers over the area he wants to tickle and start verbally teasing. "Im gonna tickle yooooou~" And stuff like that. But when he desires to be the Lee in the situation he doesn't really have a discrete way of showing he wants it. All I can say for certain is that only Sally really knows when he's in a mood.

And finally

Y for YOU!:

Honestly yes I do have my fantasies about both Ler and Lee scenarios, (as one does) but I'm currently in the process of writing a fanfic about one of my old tickle monster ocs (that I revamped a while ago now) catching Jack and tickling him. I won't spoil much but it may be a little long and wordy but it's still in the editing faze. I won't spoil alot but I'll say that I'm currently happy with it and how it's being processed!.

So stay tuned for that!

So thank you for reading this long winded reply. Once I do more of these I'll gladly make them shorter.

Thank you for the ask! @skeleton-of-a-lesbian

#wye discusses!#wye rambles onward!

19 notes · View notes

silence-the-barking-monk · 3 months

Text

Rainy Weather

Hermann Hesse

It is trying to rain, over the lake the gray and flabby air hangs anxiously. I am walking on the beach, near the inn where I am staying.

There is a kind of rainy weather that is refreshing and cheerful. Today's weather is not. The dampness falls and rises endlessly in the dense air. The clouds constantly fall apart, and new ones are always there. Irresolution and a bad mood prevail in the sky.

I thought this evening was going to be much more pleasant for me, dinner and a night's lodging at the fisherman's inn, a walk on the beach, bathing in the lake, perhaps a swim in the moonlight. Instead of these, a morbid and dark sky nervously and ill-humoredly releases its morose shower of rain into the lake, and I creep along, no less nervous and ill-humored, through the changed landscape. Perhaps I drank too much wine last evening, or too little, or else I dreamed about troubling things. God knows what it is. The mood is devilish, the air is flabby and tormenting, my thoughts are gloomy, and there is not a gleam in the world.

Tonight I will have baked fish, and drink a good deal of the local red wine. We will soon bring something gleaming back into the world, and find life more bearable. We'll have a fire in the tavern fireplace, so I won't any longer have to see or bear this lazy, slack rain. I will be smoking good long Brissago cigars and holding my wine glass up to the fire, till it glitters like a blood-colored gem. We will make it all right. The evening will go past, I will be able to sleep, tomorrow everything will be different.

In the shallow water along the beach, raindrops are splashing; a cool and moist wind fusses in the damp trees, which glow leadenly like dead fish. The devil has spit in the soup. Nothing comes out even. Nothing sounds right. Nothing rejoices and warms. Everything is desolate, sad, foul. All strings out of tune. All colors faded.

I know why this is so. It is not the wine I drank yesterday, and it is not the bad bed I slept in, and it is not even the rainy weather. Devils have been here and shrilly untuned me, string by string. The anxiety was there again, anxiety from childhood dreams, from fairy tales, from the things a schoolboy had to go through. The anxiety, the being trapped by the unalterable, the melancholy, the aversion. How insipid the world tastes! How dreadful that one has to rise again tomorrow, to eat again, to live again! Then why does one go on living? Why are we so idiotically good-natured? Why didn't we jump in the lake a long time ago?

There is no escape. You can't be a vagabond and an artist and still be a solid citizen, a wholesome, upstanding man. You want to get drunk, so you have to accept the hangover. You say yes to the sunlight and your pure fantasies, so you have to say yes to the filth and the nausea. Everything is within you, gold and mud, happiness and pain, the laughter of childhood and the apprehension of death. Say yes to everything, shirk nothing, don't try to lie to yourself. You are not a solid citizen, you are not a Greek, you are not harmonious, or the master of yourself, you are a bird in the storm. Let it storm! Let it drive you! How much you have lied! A thousand times, even in your poems and books, you have played the harmonious man, the wise man, the happy, the enlightened man. In the same way, men attacking in war have played heroes, while their bowels twitched. My God, what a poor ape, what a fencer in the mirror, man is -particularly the artist - particularly the poet - particularly myself!

I will have baked fish, and I will drink Nostrano out of a thick glass, and draw slowly on long cigars, and spit into the glowing fireplace, think about my mother, and try to press a few drops of sweetness out of my anxiety and sorrow. Then I will lie down in the inadequate bed beside the thin wall, listen to wind and rain, struggle with the beating of my heart, wish for death, fear death, call out to God. Until it is all over, until doubt wears itself out, until something like sleep and consolation beckons to me. So it was when I was twenty years old, so it is today, and so it will go on, until it ends. Always, over and over, I will have to pay for my loved and lovely life with days like these. Always, over and over, these days and nights will come, the anxiety, the aversion, the doubt. And I will still live, and I will still love life.

Oh, how meanly and maliciously the clouds hang on the mountains! How false and tinny is the flat light mirrored in the lake! How stupid and comfortless everything is, everything that comes into my mind.

***

1 note · View note

scuttling · 3 years

Text

Lean on Me

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Gender Neutral Reader Word Count: 4,717 Tags: SFW, Fluff, 5+1 Trope, Obliviousness, Mutual pining, Aaron Hotchner deserves good things, Canon typical injury Summary: Five times you want to kiss the frown off of your boss's face, and one time you actually do it. *Requested by Anon. Link to AO3 or read below! “It doesn’t make sense.”

You stick a tack in a photo of a murdered woman—unfortunately one of many you’ve stuck to this board—and turn to face Hotch, who is looking over your handiwork with a quizzical expression.

“What doesn’t?” He takes a few steps closer, crosses his arms in front of him.

“Why would the unsub leave his comfort zone? The first six abductions occurred within five miles of the college, so why did the seventh and eighth happen almost twelve miles away?” He reaches for the board, traces his finger along the circle Reid had colored in on the map. “We profiled that he’s disorganized and far from confident, so why would he do that?”

He looks over at you, frowns, and not for the first time your gaze is drawn to the little crease between his eyebrows that always forms when he is puzzled, worried, confused, stressed, or otherwise unhappy. In short, it’s there kind of all of the time.

For the first time, though, you think of how easy it would be to lean over, press your lips there, smooth it out, and maybe even get him to smile for a change. He has a great smile, when he lets people see it.

You shake the daydream, rewind back to the question he asked, and wrinkle your nose in thought.

“Maybe his circumstances changed? It's summer now, and there are still classes, but students aren’t living in the dorms. Maybe he moved back home or got an apartment off campus that’s within that area—or a job.” He sighs, runs a hand over the back of his head, nods.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. That’s good. I’ll mention it to the others.” He pulls out his phone, and you grab another photo, another thumbtack, but something stops you and you lay a gentle hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to think of everything, you know. That’s why you have us.” He exhales, his shoulders losing a little of their tension, and that forehead wrinkle gets a little less deep.

“Sometimes I forget that not everything needs to be done the hard way. Or by me.”

“What? You, Aaron Hotchner, doing things the hard way?” you tease, and you are gifted a glimpse of his rare, unfiltered smile.

“Okay, enough pointing out my flaws,” he says with a raised eyebrow, though he’s still smiling, and as he looks down to type out a text, you remember to pull back your hand.

“I would never.” He looks up from his phone at that—maybe at the conviction in your voice, which you hadn’t exactly intended—and his expression softens further.

“I know you wouldn’t.” You hold eye contact for a moment, and then turn to finish preparing the board, pinning up another photo of another woman and reminding yourself that they need you to focus on the task at hand. Two weeks later, you knock on Hotch’s office door, a stack of completed consults in your hand. He looks up, that familiar notch in between his brows, a scowl on his face; when he sees that it’s you, he tones it down a little.

“Draw the short straw?” he asks, and you figure that’s because everyone knows he is in a bad mood and they’ve been avoiding this office all day. You shrug.

“It was rock, paper, scissors, but yes.” He huffs a short laugh, and you smile, step toward his desk. “Anything I can do to lighten the load?”

“Technically you’re adding to it,” he says with a glance at the files in your hand, and you set them on one of the chairs with a purposefully loud thump and then take the other seat.

“Technically. But technically, you only need to review my consults; I can review theirs. Right?” He mulls it over a moment, like the thought never crossed his mind—of course Aaron I have to do everything myself Hotchner would never suggest such a thing, even as the team sits in the bullpen with nothing to do, seeing who can throw M&Ms into Spencer’s mouth from the furthest distance.

“Technically,” he agrees, and you pluck a pen out of his pen cup and take the first file off the pile, open it in front of yourself, careful not to cut into the workspace he’s occupying. You both smile softly down at your work, and you actively do not think about that wrinkle between his eyebrows.

About an hour later, he reaches for his mug out of habit but finds it empty; you stand, take it in your hand, and he makes a noise of protest.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you say, and you walk toward the door. “I need some too. I’ll be right back.”

You pass through the bullpen—apparently the M&M contest led to a sugar crash, because Spencer is laying with his head on his desk—and grab your cup off your desk, take both to the break room to fill them.

Derek appears next to you as you’re stirring your sugar in.

“Coffee date with the boss?” he asks with a curious expression, and you shake your head.

“Of course not. I’m helping him with the overwhelming amount of paperwork on his desk so his mood improves, instead of just ignoring him.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and Derek scratches the back of his head.

“Never thought of that,” he admits, and you pat him on the arm and take your coffees back upstairs.

Hotch looks up at you as you set his mug down, says a soft thank you, and you grab the pile of files you brought up, separate them, and head back downstairs.

“You review mine,” you say to Derek, handing him a stack, “Emily take Spencer’s, Spencer take Derek’s, I’ll take Emily’s.” They look at you like they have no idea what to say, and you just smile, tap the top of Spencer’s head with a folder. “I’ll come back down and grab them in a little bit.”

“Yes, boss,” Emily says, and you grin on your way back upstairs. Hotch is standing when you arrive this time, looking out the window over the bullpen.

“What did you do?” he asks, turning to you, frowning again. You’re so close that kissing that wrinkle would be effortless. All you’d have to do is lean in.

You smile.

“I delegated, Hotch. You should try it some time.” You put your hands on his arms and guide him back to his desk. “Now what can I help you with?”

By the end of the day, his desk is clean and his bad mood is long gone. He closes the last of his files, sighs deeply, covers your hand with one of his, and says thank you.

The next morning when you come in, there is a steaming latte and a cookie on your desk, and you can’t stop smiling the rest of the day. Your next case is draining, children abducted and left for dead, and everyone is on edge, but no one more than Hotch. You’re fairly certain his face hasn’t relaxed since the initial briefing, and he’d be a prime candidate for the old ‘your face will get stuck like that’ joke, if anyone was up to joking.

The team catches the unsub, saves one child, but not until after three are dead; you take a late flight home because no one wants to stay another night in a town it feels like you’ve failed, and everyone curls up to get some rest except you and Hotch.

You try to read the book you brought along—a science fiction dystopian novel, something to get you out of your head and away from real life problems—but you’re a little distracted by Hotch’s sighing. It’s become an every-five-minutes thing, and while you’re definitely on board with sighing as a way to decompress, he’s not decompressing. He looks like he’s in pain mentally, exhausted physically; you’re not sure how everyone else was able to ignore it and go to sleep, but then you figure everyone else may not be as in tune with him as you are. As observant.

As in love.

Not that that matters: you know your issues, and some of his issues, and there’s the whole superior/subordinate thing which doesn’t really do anything for you except give you a stomach ache. It would never work out, even if he somehow, miraculously, were to love you back—and that’s a pretty big if in and of itself.

But still, you notice him, can’t help it, and the sighing is getting to be a little much. You sigh yourself, put your finger in between the pages of your book, and walk over to take the seat next to him; he looks over at you, frowning just like always, and you carefully close his file and set it aside.

Neither of you say anything to the other, just look each other over for a moment, and then you lean lightly against his shoulder and flip back to the beginning of your book.

“I still dream of the island. I sometimes approach it across water, but more often through air, like a bird, with a great wind under my wings. The shores rise rain-coloured on the horizon of sleep, and in their quiet circle the buildings: the houses grown along the canals, the workshops of inkmasters, the low-ceilinged taverns.”

You keep your voice low and soothing, and you are just turning to page fifteen when you feel the weight of his head drop onto your shoulder.

The crease between his eyes melts away in sleep.

You read until you make it home, and you wake him up with a gentle nudge before the rest of the team drifts back to consciousness. He looks at you, blinks slowly like he’s trying to remember where he is, and then gets a little sheepish when he puts two and two together, realizes he fell asleep on your shoulder.

You just shake your head, give his arm a squeeze, and head back to your seat to gather your things. You, Hotch, and Emily are catching the elevator to the parking garage—after staying two hours later to work on some rush consults straight from Strauss—when he looks at something on his phone that makes him groan aloud. You and Emily share a look, and you ask what’s wrong.

“I just remembered I’m supposed to have a treat for Jack to take to school tomorrow and it’s, what, seven thirty?”

“So just stop at the supermarket on your way home; no one can tell the difference anyway,” Emily says, but you and Hotch both shoot her a skeptical glance.

“It’s all about the treats at a school like Jack’s,” you supply, and Hotch looks over at you like he’s surprised by your comment. “If they’re not homemade, the parents talk. Plus there’s probably an allergen list a mile long: no nuts, no eggs, no soy, no dairy. You have to pick him up from Haley’s tonight, right?” You’re pretty sure, but when he nods he confirms it. “So pick him up, go home and get some dinner, put him to bed, and I’ll text you when I’m on my way over with the goods. I have a great recipe for vegan apple cinnamon muffins that will go over really well.”

“You really don’t have to do that; I’ll figure something out,” he says, but you just shake your head and pull up the recipe on your phone.

“Forget it, it’s already done. I have everything I need at home already; let me help,” you murmur softly, and when he looks at you with the furrowed brow that comes with accepting kindness from someone else, you almost forget it’s not just the two of you in the elevator. It’s only when Emily clears her throat that the eye contact breaks. He nods.

“Okay. Thank you; I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” The elevator dings and it stops at the parking garage; the three of you get off and head in separate directions for your cars. “I’ll text you.”

“Goodnight,” Emily says with a grin, and you wave at her, hop into your car, and head for home.

About two hours later, you show up at Hotch’s door with two dozen apple cinnamon muffins, and unbleached, whole wheat flour in your hair, and he has coffee brewing, a smile on his face.

“You don’t know how grateful I am,” he says as he ushers you into the kitchen, takes the boxes of muffins from your hands, and pours you a cup of dark, delicious coffee. You sip it slowly, savoring the taste—you should have known he’d have incredible coffee—even though it’s far too late for you to be indulging. Unless you’re working a case, you usually switch to decaf by three.

“I know you are. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you’d appreciate the gesture.” You lean forward, open a box, and pull out two muffins, handing one to him. “I made a couple extra so we could taste test; if I accidentally put salt in instead of sugar, you’re on your own,” you joke, and you wait for him to taste it before taking your own bite.

“That’s delicious. There’s really nothing unapproved in here?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“Nope, it’s all healthy and allergen free, except for the flour, but that wasn’t on the list you sent.” He reaches a hand toward you, and you don’t realize, at first, that he’s brushing the flour out of your hair.

“Messy baker,” he teases, and your heart feels really full, being in his kitchen like this, warm muffins and fresh coffee, even if your hair is a mess. You smile, and he smiles back before dropping into that serious expression, eyebrow wrinkle and all. You think about brushing your lips there tonight, but this feels like two steps forward, and you don’t want to risk taking that step back. “Next time I’ll help you.”

“Oh, next time? You plan on needing my baking expertise again? Fair warning, this is the only recipe I know, so I hope you like apple cinnamon muffins.” You take a sip of your coffee, look up at him, and he takes another bite, nods his head.

“I do. Especially these.”

In a perfect world, what comes next would be a cinnamony, coffee flavored kiss, but the world’s not perfect, and you yawn instead. You look down at your mug like it’s betrayed you, and Hotch chuckles low.

“It’s decaf. I know you usually stop in the afternoon; I wouldn’t forgive myself if you were up all night because of me.” You have always been a person who falls in love with all the little details about someone, so the fact that he’s noticed this, remembers this, makes your heart beat a little faster. “I should let you go. You’ve done so much today, between staying late and baking for Jack—for me. You need to get some sleep.”

He’s right, it’s nearly ten, and you should be getting back home, but this is a moment you never want to end.

You just nod, though, and he reaches out to brush his hand over your back when he walks you to the door.

“Thank you again. I really appreciate that you did this for me,” he says, soft, like he still can’t imagine you would.

“You’re welcome, Hotch. Any time, really; I’m happy to help.”

You get home, clean your kitchen, and have a very late dinner, and the smell of good coffee and apples and cinnamon is still in your nose when you drift to sleep. “You didn’t hear what he said,” Hotch snaps almost a month later, with one hand splayed on his hip and the other on the table in front of him. The moment you saw him engaged in an argument with a member of the Sheriff’s department, fire in his eyes, you’d grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a small conference room, shutting the door behind you. It took almost three minutes of staring at each other for him to say something instead of just glaring at you for interrupting the pissing contest.

“I don’t need to know what he said. I know you, and I know you handle people like that with a quick, sharp remark and then you wash your hands of it. You don’t argue back and forth, you don’t draw it out. You would have regretted it if you did that today, so I stopped you.”

“You think you know me so well, do you?” he asks in an unkind tone of voice you can’t identify, haven’t heard from him before; the expression on his face is familiar, though, a scowl that only puts emphasis on his handsome features—it’s unfair, really.

You exhale, cross your arms.

“Yes, and I know you well enough to know you’re irritated with him, not me, so cut the shit.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever been quite that direct with him, and certainly the first time you’ve ever sworn at him; your immediate instinct is to apologize, but he surprises you by huffing a laugh. The angry lines of his face smooth into something softer.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. He just—I can’t stand people like that.” He scrubs a hand through his hair in irritation. “We’re here to work—to do a job they couldn’t finish on their own. Not to be… objectified.” He mutters the last word, so low you almost don’t hear it, and then there’s a knock at the door. Derek enters.

“Sheriff wants a word, Hotch; do you have a sec?” With one last look at you, he nods, brushes past him to leave the room. Derek gives you the barest hint of a smile. “He was defending your honor, you know.”

You frown. You didn’t know.

“That jerk was talking about me?” you ask, clarifying, and he nods.

“Something about assuming you’re an athlete because he likes your ass. Set the boss man off.” You walk over to him and leave the room together, heading back to your workspace.

“Well Hotch is right, we’re here to work, not to be objectified. I can see how he would get angry.” Derek shoots you a flat, questioning glance.

“You think he’d be getting that worked up if it was my ass that guy was talking about? Or Emily’s?” The two of you stop outside the conference room, and you cross your arms, lean against the doorframe, frown.

“So what are you trying to say? That he sees me as being weak, thinks he needs to defend me? I'm as capable as either of you.” That may not be strictly true, because you’re a little more brains than brawn, like Spencer in that way, but you can hold your own and you thought Hotch knew that.

Derek just laughs, shakes his head, and ducks into the room. You follow, so confused.

“I thought you were just playing it close to the vest, but you’re oblivious, aren’t you?”

“Oblivious about what?” Emily asks, pen between her teeth, feet kicked up onto a chair, and you shrug.

“I’m still not sure. Hotch got into an argument with a deputy about me, and I asked Derek if Hotch thinks I’m weak and that’s why he felt like he had to defend me.” She smiles broadly around the pen, pulls it out of her mouth with a grin.

“Oh, honey. That’s not it. You know that’s not it, right?”

“I clearly don’t know what’s going on at all, so no, if you’d care to enlighten me,” you say, sinking into an empty chair. “I hate it when you guys are cryptic.” You love your team, but they have a habit of doing this all the time, saying things to each other with their eyes, or just a few words that don’t have any sensible meaning that you know of. It’s like they live to talk over your head, to say things without actually saying them.

“Okay. Hotch has a thing for you,” Emily says simply, and you blink.

Well that’s the very last thing you’d expected to hear.

“He absolutely does not.” You look at Derek, who’s making a face like you’re the one being crazy; you laugh out loud, can’t help it. “He does not. I’m pretty sure Hotch doesn’t have things, and if he did, he wouldn’t have a thing for me.”

“Why not? Because that would be too convenient, since you have a thing for him too?” Derek asks, taking the seat across from you, and you grab the nearest case file, flip it open and focus your attention on it.

“I care about him, the same way I care about all of you, and he maybe needs a little more care—but you guys are reading into things.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to say anything more, because Hotch, JJ, and Spencer return, and you all have a lead to work.

You can’t help but wonder if you’re being obvious about your feelings, though, especially later, when you get back to the hotel and the group decides to have a drink at the bar.

JJ and Emily hit the pool table while Derek and Spencer head up for drinks, and you are left sitting with Hotch at the table, pressed together in the inside corner of a booth.

“Tired?” you ask him, because he does look worn out, his tie a bit loose, his eyes a little red. You know he doesn’t get much sleep when you travel, and you can’t imagine he’ll go to bed even when this little detour is over.

“Always,” he sighs, but when he looks over at you, he smiles, just a little. “Just can’t wait to get out of this town.”

“Yeah, it gives Southern hospitality a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?” The people you’ve interviewed today are, on paper, quite respectable, but there’s a Desperate Housewives, ‘everyone is sleeping with someone else's spouse’ kind of thing going on, and it’s honestly exhausting. To your surprise, Hotch laughs.

“It really does. I don’t think I’ve ever missed the quiet solitude of my apartment quite this much.” You lean back against the vinyl of the booth, sigh.

“I miss my apartment, but it’s been too quiet lately. I prefer the sounds of someone else sharing space with me: the coffee maker percolating, the news in the background, the shower running, the sound of flipping the pages of a book or magazine.” You look down at your hands, because you’re getting a little more emotional than you usually let other people see. “Sorry. I’m not typically this open about being…”

You trail off, but Hotch looks over at you, concerned, the wrinkle between his eyebrows even more noticeable when you’re sitting this close. You think, just briefly, of running your thumb over it, but with your luck, Derek or Emily would see, and you’d never live it down.

“Lonely?” he finishes softly, and when you nod your head, he covers your hands with one of his own, bumps his shoulder against yours. “I get lonely too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” You look up at him, feeling a little vulnerable, and his expression softens. “When we get back, maybe you could come over for dinner some night. Nothing fancy,” he clarifies, and you smile, “just two lonely people being a little less lonely.”

“That would be really nice.” You can see Derek and Spencer approaching out of the corner of your eye, and Hotch must too, because he removes his hand, slips back into the slight, persistent frown you have come to know and love. Derek looks at you, raises an eyebrow, and hands you your beer. You try to tell him to shut up with your face, plan to follow up later to see if that actually worked. “We have an agent down on the second floor,” Spencer says into his comms, and you immediately want to slap him in the back of the head.

“Don’t say agent down, kid; I’m like, slightly wounded at best.” You hold a hand against the stab wound on your side—the unsub honestly just grazed you, and you’d knocked him out with a single punch, which made you feel pretty awesome—and reach out the other so he can help pull you to your feet. Your hand comes up to your own walkie button. “I’m not down, I’m fine—just slightly stabbed,” you add, and Spencer is getting his cuffs on the unsub when Hotch and JJ burst through the doors.

Well, Hotch bursts. JJ follows behind looking strangely winded for one of the most naturally athletic people you know.

“What happened? Are you alright?” he asks, and you lift your shirt to show him the sluggishly bleeding gash.

“I’m fine, see? It’s not even deep. Spencer saw blood and got a little ahead of himself.” You turn to Spencer, who sticks out his tongue, then back to Hotch, who looks haunted and pale, with that goddamn wrinkle between his eyebrows again. He’s bent down, looking over your wound seriously—you’ve had worse, so much worse, that you don’t understand why he’s so worried about it—and then he leans up, presses a hand to your cheek, and pulls you close for a soft, tender kiss.

If this were a movie, right about now a camera would be panning around you in a circle, as you wrap your free hand around his neck, pull him closer, melt against his body like it’s all you’ve been dreaming of for months, and the two of you would break apart smiling, maybe even kiss again.

It’s not a movie, though, so you just bleed out against your hand and freeze, because Hotch is kissing you at a crime scene and you almost got filleted, so you’re not sure if this is a you got hurt, so I’d better kiss you kiss or an I’ve been wanting to kiss you forever, and you got hurt so I have to kiss you kiss.

When he breaks the kiss, you’re both breathing a bit heavily, and you don’t know what to do, so you just lean in and press your lips to that wrinkle between his eyebrows that you’ve been thinking about so frequently since the first time you noticed it. You brush a hand through his hair, and when you pull back, he’s smiling.

“What was that?” He covers your hand on your side with his own and helps get you toward the elevator so you can be patched up by the EMTs; JJ and Spencer are left staring, open-mouthed in your wake, with an unconscious unsub at their feet, but neither of you are concerned about that.

“I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now: to kiss that spot between your eyes so you’ll stop frowning for a change. Since I couldn’t, I decided to find other ways to help you stop frowning so much. It kind of became my life’s mission.” He sighs, puts his arm around you and holds you close while you wait for the elevator to bring you to the ground floor.

“I stop frowning when you’re around because you’re around, not just because of the things you do for me,” he tells you, and he presses his lips to yours for another warm, soft, perfect kiss. “I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now.” You tilt your head, make a sound of contemplation, and he chuckles softly. “What is it?”

“I think those cryptic idiots we work with might be onto something,” you say with a grin, and when the elevator lets you off and Hotch helps you toward the ambulance to be patched up, Derek and Emily are waiting with concerned looks on their faces. They must be pretty confused to see you’re grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, you guys were right; Hotch does have a thing for me!” you call as you walk past them, and when your wound is properly dressed and wrapped, you put your arms around his neck and let him kiss you until the frown and accompanying wrinkle are nothing but distant memories.

*The novel excerpt is from The Weaver by Emmi Itäranta.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt #aaron hotchner x gn reader #hotch x gn reader #request

525 notes · View notes

theneondemonx · 3 years

Text

MY TYPE | JJK

One Shot

▽ summary: you’ve never liked fuckboys, especially one Jeon Jungkook. But when you find yourself late at night playing a game of seven minutes in heaven with your college friends, things take a different turn.

▽ genre: porn with very little plot, college au

▽ pairings: fuckboy|jk x fem!reader

▽ words: 2192

▽ warnings: implied alcohol use, jk jerked off to your insta pics (y/n living the dream), oral sex (m receiving, deep throating), unprotected sex, lots of cum, dirty talk, nipple play, jk has a big dick

A chorus of ooohs filled the messy living room in which you and your friends were sitting in circle. It was late and most of the party guests had already gone back home, leaving just a small bunch of you and a pile of garbage all over the house. You would have gladly leave the place way earlier if it wasn’t for your best friend Se-mi, who you promised to drive back home. She insisted in staying longer to hit on Min Yoongi, one of your fellow classmates from the same major, but the guy seemed to barely notice. He might even been interested in her for all you knew: there was no way of telling, since he was always so introverted. The only person he spoke to was his disaster of a friend, Jeon Jungkook, the campus playboy.

How do they even get along? They have literally nothing in common.

And you knew this, since you had been often paired with Yoongi for some group projects during the years. The guy was cool. He was really smart and funny when you actually got to know him. He just didn’t open up easily. That’s why, even though you’ve had the opportunity to chat with him several times, you couldn’t really say you two were friends.

But back to the ooohs. The reason behind that childish reaction was to trace in the empty bottle of beer who had just stop spinning, pointing at you and the infamous Jeon Jungkook, who was having the time of his life – judging from the mischievous grin on his face.

You weren’t blind, you knew he was hot as fuck, but he was way too aware of his good looks and terribly overconfident. He was known to have slept with most girls on campus, and you were pretty sure he was more dedicated to keep his record than to actually graduate. Which, for a good student like you, was infuriating.

You had always found him annoying and obnoxious. And on top of that, you couldn’t figure out how girls seemed to fall for his cheesy lines every single time, throwing themselves at him like he was the only guy with a dick.

Sure, you didn’t really knew the guy, but in your opinion there wasn’t much to know about him. He was a cliché. And you couldn’t help but roll your eyes every time he tried to hit on you. Because he did. Of course he did. You were just his favorite type of prey: one that was not easy to catch.

“Well, you know the rules, guys. The closet is right at the end of the corridor. You have to stay in there for seven minutes. If you get out earlier, you have to kiss in front of everybody for the remaining time. And if you don’t get out.. well.. good for you.”

“Don’t worry, Jimin. Seven minutes are more than enough.” You said with a sarcastic tone, giving him a fake smile while you got up and adjusted your skirt.

Jungkook scoffed, getting up and leaning closer to your ear to talk in a low voice, but loud enough for the others to hear.

“You must have had some pretty lame sex if you think so. Hope I’ll change your mind.”

“You’re disgusting.”

And that’s how you found yourself sharing the tightest possible space with a known fuckboy like Jeon Jungkook.

As soon as you entered the closet, you pushed your back against one of the walls, folding your arms to your chest to make him understand in every possible way that you weren’t going to give into any of his shenanigans. Stupid move, since your shirt was a bit low-cut and that only made your tits pop up even more, looking like a four course meal to the blatant gaze of Jungkook.

“No class to run to this time, mh?” he immediately uttered, giving you a malicious smile while leaning with his shoulder against the door frame.

“Unfortunately.”

He rolled his eyes, darkened even more by the dim light of the small space you were both trapped in.

“Oh come on, do you really want to turn this game into seven minutes in hell? You don’t necessarily have to be a mood killer.”

“I just don’t like you, Jungkook. I know you are not used to hear it, but that’s just how it is.”

Your comeback didn’t seem to affect him at all. If anything, he just made him chuckle and slightly shake his head.

Seriously? You are that full of yourself?

“Ok, so it’s another Y/L/N Y/N who liked my photo at the gym from three years ago and then changed her whole profile in a ridiculous attempt to hide it.”

Your eyes widened and your cheeks turned suddenly red. You got caught.

“It was a mistake.” You tried to explain yourself, knowing too well that there was nothing you could say to go back from that.

He raised his eyebrow, looking straight at you from underneath his eyelashes.

“You scrolled through all my Instagram profile by mistake?”

No you didn’t. You just got curious. That’s the kind of shit you did at three in the morning when you couldn’t sleep. You just find yourself looking for weird stuff on the internet and scrolling through profiles of people you barely knew for no apparent reason. It was just a bonus point the fact that Jungkook’s profile was full of pictures of his body sculped by the gods. Sure, you were annoyed by his attitude, but you were still a woman.

“And you did it so very late at night, if I might add.” He said, taking a step forward towards you. “What were you doing, Y/N? Looking for something interesting?”

You blushed so hard that you were pretty sure he could see the redness in your cheeks even despite the poor lighting in the closet. But you couldn’t help but stare at him in the eyes like a deer caught in headlights, unable to look away from his hypnotic gaze.

“I wasn’t.” You murmured, defensively.

“You don’t have to feel ashamed, you know? I was awake too – thank God, if I might add. I would have missed it otherwise. I would have found myself locked out of that mysterious profile, unable to look at your cute pictures.” He paused, leaning way too close to your face. “Don’t tell anyone, but I had some fun with those.”

Normally, you would have told him that he was sickening, but for some reason you felt a pleasant warmth irradiating in your belly. You couldn’t help but picture him jerking off to your photos, and it wasn’t sickening at all. If anything, it was weirdly enticing.

He rested his palm on the wall, right next to your face, and looked down at your body like he was ready to devour it in one bite.

“I recognized the skirt, you know?”

You didn’t remember wearing it in one of your pictures, but it was plausible: that skirt was one of your favorites. Cute and short, but not too revealing.

“Well, I hope you saved the picture, because that’s all you’re gonna get.”

This was your response, when you actually found the courage to talk. But your voice was so low and shaky that you found it hard yourself to believe your own words. Of course he didn’t fall for it.

“Are you sure?”

You bit your lip, nodding in a last ridiculous attempt to give yourself a standoffish look, which again he didn’t buy at all.

He got even closer, slightly pressing his body against yours until your heavy breaths were melting into one another and you could feel his hardness on your stomach.

You did not respond. You were brain dead. All you could feel was your core painfully clenching around nothing and your blood flowing down to your lower belly, emptying your head of any thought beside those filled with the desire to feel his body.

“Mh.. okay..” he said, gently resting his hand on your thigh and starting to go further up with an excruciating slow pace. “So you don’t like this.”

It wasn’t a question, but it was clear he was looking for a reply you were unable to give. A soft moan escaped your lips at his gentle touch, which you didn’t move away from. A silent green light for him to go even further up, taking his caress under the hem of your skirt until his digits were brushing the damp fabric of your underwear.

“You want me to stop, Y/N?”

His words were a mere whisper against your lips to which you couldn't help but faintly gasp.

“No.” You found yourself saying, right before being cut off by the kiss he gave you, pressing his lips against yours and spreading them open for his tongue to enter your mouth.

You moaned, melting like pudding against his body while his fingers started drawing slow circles on your sensitive clit.

“For someone who finds me disgusting you got yourself soaking wet pretty fast, princess.”

His provocative words only got you wetter and needier, pushing you to the edge of your psychological barricade. Your hands rushed to his belt, unbuckling it with fast and sloppy movements until you could zip down his jeans, letting his hard cock spring free in front of you.

Fuck he’s big.

He seemed to have somehow read your thoughts in your eyes, since he chuckled, guiding your hand to wrap around his width and slightly moving it up and down while letting out a raspy moan.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and take me in your mouth, princess?”

You licked your lips, looking up at him with your eyes filled with lust while you slowly got to your knees. You never broke eye contact, pumping him slowly but steadily before swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock, covered with precum.

“Tastes good?”

“Mhmh.” You nodded with a mischievous smile on your face.

Your mouth soon wrapped around his cock, taking it all in until you started gaggin a bit for the length. A reaction which made him moan loudly and grab your hair, steadying his grip in order to guide your head in the increasing pace.

“Fuck your mouth feels so good.”

“You like it? Is this what you pictured while jerking off to my photos?” You said during a small pause, not even giving him the time to respond with anything but a loud moan, since you immediately got back to deep throating his cock like it was your last meal.

“Fuck I’m close.”

Those words only made you move faster, keeping your eyes locked with his to take in every ounce of pleasure you could get from him. And at that point there wasn’t much he could do to hold back. You suddenly felt his hot semen spilling down your throat.

However, you only had the time to swallow before he leaned down, wrapping his arm around your waist and lifting you up with ridiculous ease.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, letting him push you against the wall and move your wet panties to the side to sink deep inside your throbbing core.

You let out a sharp moan, welcoming his size between your tight walls with pleasurable pain. One of his hands got under your shirt and bra, squeezing your breast and tracing circles with his thumb on your hard nipple.

“Look at you. You got so wet just by sucking my cock, baby?”

His words were again a lustful whisper against your parted lips, but you were unable to respond – your voice cut by the deep thrusts he was torturing you with. You were sure, however, that the lewd sounds of your wetness were enough of an answer to him.

“Such a pretty little slut. What are you gonna tell the others when they’ll see my cum dripping down your thighs?”

You moaned loudly, helping his pace with the movements of your own hips to take him even deeper.

“I’m gonna tell them that this lame sex little slut made you come twice in a row.”

He groaned, thrusting harder in you.

“You are so fucking hot.”

The pace got quicker and quicker until you found yourself out of breath, calling his name in between moans while your legs started shivering, signaling your forthcoming orgasm. And when it came, it hit you like a train, making you grab his hair and moan loudly while your walls clenched around his cock. You felt him twitch inside you until he sank deep with sloppy thrusts, releasing his orgasm inside you with a raspy moan.

You two took some moments to relax your racing heartbeats, leaning against each other's forehead with eyes closed and heavy breaths.

When you felt again capable of speaking, you let out a pretty laugh, pressing your palm against his cheek.

“Hope this memory will serve you well for your future lonely nights.”

He laughed, caressing your nose with the tip of his.

“Trust me, this won’t stay in the past.”

“Jerkass.”

“Nerd.”

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jk #jjk #jungkook oneshot #jungkook college au #jungkook fuckboy #smut #college au #yoongi #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts college au #fanfic #oneshot #bts x reader #bts

1K notes · View notes

joansiefics · 3 years

Note

Hey!! I just saw your prompt post and I was wondering if I could request prompts 2 and 4 from the angst section with Steve Rogers? Fluffy ending? I'm just really in the Steve mood rn. Thanks❤️😘

No Bed Of Roses

STEVE ROGERS X READER

Prompt 2: "don't you hurt a single hair on her head"

Prompt 4: "I don't know where I am... please help"

SUMMARY: You get kidnapped on your way home from running errands and Steve comes to save you.

WARNINGS: Explicit Descriptions of Torturing (Cutting, Dislocations...), Kidnapping, Chloroform, Blood, Mentions of Death, Guns

A/N: The expression "no bed of roses" means not pleasant at all. And seeing that this fic is about an anniversary I accentuated and incorporated flowers in the fic. I'm sorry it took so long to write your request, but I hope you like the final product.

MARVEL MASTERLIST || PROMPT LIST

REQUESTS are OPEN

Add yourself to my TAGLIST

~Flower #1: Peony - means Marriage~

You just finished decorating - roses strewn over the tablecloth accompanied by lit candles and fairy lights hanging by the entrance. It was your first marriage anniversary and you wanted it to be special. There were still three hours left before Steve would be home and you were almost done, you just needed to make your famous pumpkin pie. "Dang it!" you spoke aloud when you noticed your flour wasn't enough for the recipe. You rushed to the door and grabbed your keys on the way out.

------

You payed for the flour, thanked the cashier and rushed back to your car. A few meters away from your car, you searched your purse for your keys and unfortunately didn't notice the two men creeping up on you.

~Flower #2: Aconite - means Be Cautious~

A calloused hand enclosed around your mouth, muffling your cries for help, as the other arm snaked around your waist, preventing you from escaping. Another man's hand came into your peripheral vision, a torn rag in his hand. You struggled against the arm around your waist, screaming against his filthy, sour tasting hand and kicking your legs wildly. The rag was forced into your face, even though you twisted your head from left to right, holding your breath and doing everything in your power to escape the drowsiness. After about five minutes of useless struggling, black spots started to cloud your vision, the fight fully escaped from your body and you fell numb into your attacker's arms.

------

~Flower #3: White Rose - means Silence~

When you opened your eyes, the dark was exchanged for more darkness. You relied on your hearing to inform you of your surroundings - a dripping faucet, the roof's thermal expansion and contraction and silence. The sudden presence of a fluorescent light directed directly into your eyes had you squinting. "Sleeping Beauty finally awakes" a loud voice booms from somewhere in front of you. You try opening your eyes against the bright light to find the source of the goosebump-eliciting voice. "Who are you and what do you what from me?" you strenuously ask. A dry cough threatens to escape your parched throat and makes you gag, before you collect the most possible saliva to swallow. "We'll leave our identity a riddle for you to figure out while we wait for your Captain to show up"

'No, no, no, no...HYDRA...Steve fought so hard against them, he'll be devastated' you think "Well, then I'll have all the time in the world, he's not coming to save me" you say, hoping that it came across more convincing than it felt "We both know you're lying princess" "Don't call me princess" you seethe. "We need to do something about your snarky remarks, princess." he tuts as he walks to the corner of the room and for the first time you see the trolley decorated with tools. "With what do you want to start?" he asks fake politely. "You choose" you say with fake bravery masking your utter terror. "Let's see if we can shut your pretty mouth up first." He picks up a knife and slowly stalks towards you.

~Flower #4: Marigold - means Pain~

When he gets to you, he forces your mouth open - his long fingernails digging into your soft, rosy cheeks. He musters up all his saliva, stores it at the tip of his tongue and spits the ball of slime into the back of your throat. You choke on the warm liquid, traveling down your throat as he shakes your head to ensure that you swallowed all the given saliva. Once you swallowed everything you look your kidnapper in the eyes "thank you so much, I was so thirsty" "Let's see if you'll be so outspoken when I cut your tongue" he digs his nails deeper, drawing blood as you try to close your mouth. He forces the knife's blade into your mouth.

The cut is made at the tip of your tongue - not deep enough to cut the tip off, but just deep enough to let it bleed profusely. A scream escapes your lungs and the tears sting behind your eyes. "Not so brave now sweetheart, huh?" he mocks. He takes a phone out of his pocket and clicks on a number. The phone rings once and then the other person picks up "Hello?" the person, you recognize as Steve, unsurely greets. "Captain, we have your pretty little wife over here" "Don't you hurt a single hair on her head!!" Steve yells fumingly. "Oops, too late" "let me talk to her" Steve urgently orders, hands clenched into fists. "No, no, no captain...why don't I show you" your kidnapper switches the call over to video call and focuses the camera on you. He grabs your cheeks again, forcing your mouth open. Then he grabs a pair of pliers and pull at the tip of your tongue, to show Steve the damage that has been done.

You don't know when your tears started falling - maybe when you saw Steve or maybe when your tongue was cut into, but they were now flowing down your cheeks, stinging in the crescent shaped cuts of your kidnapper's nails. "Just hold on sweetheart, I'm going to get you out of there okay?" 'He is probably still at work... how long have I been here? Less than three hours?' You attempted to speak but you rather hissed at the pain when your tongue touched your upper palate. Steve's heart clenched at the sight of your fear stricken face, contorting in pain. "Here's the deal, we let your pretty princess go free when you hand yourself in" the kidnapper speaks up. "Deal, but I swear if you hurt her even more I won't hesitate to kill you" and with that Steve hangs up.

------

~Flower #5: Balsamine - means Impatient~

"I think he forgot about you princess" the kidnapper says, impatiently looking at his watch and walking the room up and down. When nearly twenty minutes have passed since the phone call, your kidnapper lost patience. He harshly yanked you up, by your hair, from the chair and pulled you after him - your feet sweeping the floor clean. At the other side of the room he let go of your hair and kicked you over onto your stomach. He gripped your tied up wrists and cut the rope loose, only to secure your wrists with a much stronger and longer rope. You could feel the sisal rubbing over your already lacerated wrists and feel the blood trickling down your fingers.

When your kidnapper was sure that you could not escape the bonds, he hauled you up by holding the other side of the rope. He lead you to a contraption where he made you climb the three stairs upwards. He positioned you that your back was to the pole-like-contraption and then tied the longer end of the rope (behind your back) to it. He quickly got off and pulled the handle which made the platform disappear from your under your feet and you fell with a big force to the ground, being pulled back by the rope just before your feet could touch the ground. You screamed as you felt your shoulder pop out of its socket - the pain electrifying every cell in your body.

------

~Flower #6: Iris - means Faith & Hope~

You have no idea how long you've been hanging from a rope - a shoulder dislocated, probably a broken rib, lacerated wrists and a slit tongue. The distant sound of gunshots alert your kidnapper, but you hang numbly and exhausted. 'Where's Steve? I know he'll come for me, it's just a matter of time' you try to talk some sense into yourself, before you completely think that Steve has abandoned you. "Don't let them get the girl, she's our only leverage!!" your kidnapper yells through his comms to the soldiers, but he is met with static. "Your captain has come to rescue you... and now we have him right where we want him. He'll pay for all the destruction he caused." he has a disgusting smirk on his face, eyes glowing with evilness. "Sir, we need you on the field, all our backup is dead!" a panicked voice makes its way through the static and over the comms. "Stay right here you filthy female and don't make a sound or I won't hesitate to cut out your entire tongue out when I get back" he snarls before running out to the battlefield.

'If I yell someone might hear me and save me, or that freak will come back and cut out my tongue. Maybe I'll die when he does that, then I won't have to suffer anymore... it's worth a try' and then you start yelling with every ounce of energy and air left in your lungs. "Heeeeelp!!!" you cry out. The sound of your cries echoes through the room and into the hallway just outside the room. "Y/N?!" it takes a moment before you realize that it's not your echo boomeranging but someone calling out to you. "I don't know where I am...please help me!!!" you yell.

Steve follows your voice as the other Avengers fight of more HYDRA agents. When he enters the room and sees your hanging figure his heart breaks into pieces, shattering on the floor. "Y/N?" he carefully asks, to make his presence known. He slowly walks closer to you, purposely making his steps louder for you to hear and not to startle you. You lift your head up a bit, seeing Steve, before your head falls back down, your chin touching your collar bone. Steve assesses the entire contraption as he takes a few more steps closer to you.

~Flower #7: Gladiolus - means Heroism~

When Steve is standing in front of you, he carefully lifts your chin to make you look him in the eyes. "Steve" you whisper, throat dry, lips sticking together and tongue aching. "I'm here sweetheart" he comforts you, because he knows you'll need it to pull the next part off. "Sweetheart, I need you to listen to me" "hmn" you acknowledge him. "I'm going to cut the rope from this contraption and I'm going to hold you so you don't fall, I just need you to trust me and work with me" "okay" your small voice, make tears burn at the back of Steve's eyes and he has to fight hard to suppress them. He snakes an arm around your waist and cuts the rope, making you fall over his broad shoulders (fireman style carrying). A disgruntled sound leaves your throat when your shoulder flops around limply. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" Steve apologizes.

He carries you to the middle of the room and lays you down. He takes of his jacket, folds it and put it under your head as a pillow. "Sweetheart?" he lightly shakes your uninjured shoulder to get your attention. "Can you tell me where it hurts?" you nod your head 'no' before closing your eyes again. "I know you're tired, but you gotta stay awake just a little while longer okay?" You open your eyes again and Steve asks the same question "can you tell me where it hurts, sweetheart?" "my tongue" Steve knows about your tongue, but he lets you finish. "my shoulder" he saw your shoulder was out out of place when he cut the rope loose. "my ribs and my wrists" "Is that all?" Steve asks, and you just give him a simple nod, too tired and sore to talk.

"I'm going to first take a look at your shoulder" Steve says. He quickly informs the team of your whereabouts and then focuses all his attention back to you. He lifts your arm up, supports your shoulder with his one hand and pulls as hard as he can towards him. A high pitched scream leaves you, once again. "It's done, it's done" Steve cooes as he rubs his hands over your arms.

Just them Bucky and Natasha arrives at the scene. "It's all clear" Bucky relays to Steve. "Thanks guys" Steve thanks, gently picking you up bridal style and carrying you to the Quinjet.

------

At the compound you were professionally taken care of. And later that night, you woke up to the soft 40's music playing in the background, Steve holding your hand and flowers next to your bed, with a note attached to it - "I love you so much Y/N, and nothing will ever take you away from me" You lightly tugged at Steve's hands and he woke up, but before he could speak you put your finger over his lips. "Just lie with me, please"

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

TAGLIST: (if your name is crossed out, I couldn't tag you)

@buckyzzrogers @buckyandstevesbitch @ooopsthiswasnotsupposedtohappen @marvelouslyriddikulus

#steve rodgers x reader #steve rodgers imagine #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #hurt comfort #injured reader #husband!steve x wife!reader #anniversary #flowers #fiction #fanfiction #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes mention #torture

244 notes · View notes

not-wholly-unheroic · 3 years

Photo

Favorite Images of Hook (Part Two - Disney’s Return to Neverland, 2002)

1. Image in the Clouds - This was SUCH a creative way for Disney to recap the first film without using any words, and I LOVE it--the star in place of Hook’s eye and the smaller ones that trace the line where the edge of his cravat would be are perfect. Even Tink’s trail of pixie dust forms the shape of a hook!

2. Hook in Jane’s Room - One of the things I love most about Hook is his grandiosity, and this image shows that part of him perfectly. He looks so proud of himself. The mustache twirling seems to be a habit of his when he’s either thinking or feeling rather smug. Definitely the latter going on here.

3. Hugging Smee - This is another scene that I really like because of the vulnerability it shows as well as further highlighting his relationship with Mr. Smee. Hook seems to seek out physical touch for reassurance when he is afraid both in the first film and the sequel. Heck, here he doesn’t even wait for Smee to come to his aid but reaches out in desperation and drags Smee into a hug. This man is so clearly touch-starved that it breaks my heart.

4. Dinghy in the Mist - This shot...y/all, this looks like it belongs in a Pirates of the Caribbean film. The lighting and the mist give it such an eerie, mysterious mood as Hook slowly comes into focus.

5. Hook’s Close-Up in the Forest - This is probably my absolute favorite shot of Hook from either film. It would be a hard choice, but if I had to pick just one, this would be it. Some shots of Hook look rather silly, but this one feels very human. His eyes are soft and warm. His smile is charming. And while he might be acting in the moment, we see who he COULD have been if he’d chosen a different path in life.

6. Giving Jane the Whistle - This is sort of cheating since it isn’t actually an image of Hook himself but rather a close-up of the claw and his hand as he passes off the whistle to Jane, but I think it holds a lot of significance. Jane is drawn to Hook because of their similarities and, quite possibly, the similarities she sees between him and her own father--a military man. This gesture of handing over the whistle is done so tenderly that it might well have reminded Jane of Edward giving her something special to hold onto as he went off to war. Again, I recognize that Hook is using this connection to his advantage, but I think it also offers another glimpse of the man he might have been.

7. The Bosun’s Chair/Dead Man’s Cave - I love everything about this shot--the elegance of his perch on the bosun’s chair, the little smirk on his face. My only question is...what the heck are the ropes attached to???

8. Hook Laughing - I’m sure by now you’re probably sensing a theme... Look, I know this is supposed to be a villainous laugh, but I just like it when Hook smiles, okay?

9. Jane Tries to Get the Key - This scene is almost upsetting to me because let’s be real, Hook NEVER stops moving for very long. He’s a super active character, and seeing him laid out on the deck in the midst of battle, well...quite frankly, it looks like he’s dead. It’s unsettling and unusual, and while I don’t like the thought of Hook dying, I like the image because it brings a bit of gravity to his potential plight.

10. Final Showdown with Jane - There are honestly several scenes from the final showdown that I really like, and it was hard to choose just one. This Hook is far more dangerous than the one we see in the first film. When he first pops up from being knocked unconscious, he has the hook around Jane’s wrist and nearly lops HER hand off, then quickly makes a stab at her (barely missing) and eventually ends up pinning her to the past with the claw around her neck. This is pretty intense stuff for a Disney film. But I think my favorite moment is when he’s up on the spar, drawing his sword as he slowly backs Jane closer and closer to the edge. His hair is blowing across his face in the wind and he has this wild, dangerous look about him that too often we forget exists in the moments of comedy.

#captain hook #disney #peter pan #return to neverland #disney peter pan #disney captain hook #captain james hook #james hook #disney villains

232 notes · View notes

obiwanobi · 3 years

Note

Catch me thinking about sith Anakin who got in a fight w/ Palps (did Palps cross a line? Did Anakin decide he had nothing to lose? Idk), barely managed to win and is now seriously hurting and a little freaked out winding up outside Obi-wan's quarters and Obi-wan doesn't have time to draw his saber let alone figure out how a sith lord managed to get so far into the jedi temple unnoticed and Force is that blood? before Anakin's passing out with only a murmered request for help.

LISTEN you can’t keep sending me perfect prompts, how do you know I can’t resist bloody men on their knees begging for salvation, how do you know me so well??? anyway here’s 2.3k of always-a-sith!Anakin who could have been the new ruler of the empire but said ‘no thanks, this is too much responsibility, I would like to be pampered by my favourite jedi now’ (with a bit of Ahsoka as Obi-Wan’s padawan!)

He didn’t mean to kill him.

Well, not at first.

He didn’t mean to kill Sidious, but pulling his lightsaber from his lifeless corpse only felt like complete satisfaction. A weight on his shoulders he didn't know he carried disappeared, letting him stand up above the body of his master— former master, and gaze upon what was left of him. A shapeless form on the ground. A dark cape around an old man playing at being a god. A begging mess of futile promises when he realised it was the end for him.

As mindless fury leaves him, his ragged breathing slows down and his fist unclenches around his saber. Sidious is dead. Now that the adrenaline rush is gone, his knees start shaking. His Master is dead. His face is wet with sweat and blood and tears. Dead and now Anakin has no one.

And then... And then fear.

"You know," Ahsoka groans as the water starts boiling, "I don't understand how you got your reputation of Cool Jedi Master. Other padawans think I'm lying when I tell them you wear the ugliest slippers at home and gets excited by new tisanes."

"You gifted me those slippers."

"As a joke. And you still wear them."

"I'm not going to throw away perfectly good slippers." Obi-Wan wiggles his toes under the red and yellow fuzzy monstrosities, just to see his padawan rolls her eyes. "And they're really comfortable."

"So you're just going to stay there, then? Your whole battalion is out celebrating our first day of leave since forever, but you prefer to drink your tea alone and go to bed at 22:00?"

"No one wants an authority figure around when they're letting loose and celebrating, Ahsoka," Obi-Wan says, pouring hot water in his cup. He raises the kettle towards his padawan as a question, to which she shakes her head. "I thought you would be happy to see me putting sleep before work for once."

"I am, Master, but I thought it could be..." She trails off, fidgeting with the hilt of her sabers. For once, she looks like a typical padawan, just like he was at her age, dying to enjoy one night away from the temple and any kind of responsibilities.

"It's alright my dear," he sighs, "you can join them if you want."

Ahsoka suddenly perks up. "I can?"

"If you're old enough to be sent to the front, I think you can handle yourself for one night on Coruscant."

"Thank you Master! I promise I'll be careful and not come back too late!"

"You do that, and-- wait, Ahsoka," he adds as she's already halfway through the door, "make sure to stay around Cody! And no alcohol of any kind! And don't lose your lightsaber at sabacc again!"

"That was you!" she yells from the end of the corridor, "don't worry, I'll be fine! Don't wait for me to go to bed! Goodnight Master!"

Obi-Wan smiles, blowing on his cup. He already sent a message to Cody earlier to keep an eye on her, so he knows she's in good hands.

He has his herbal tea, his ugly slippers, no reports to read or write, and no immediate Separatist menace to plan for. For once, a perfectly good night to catch up on sleep and meditation.

So, of course, something has to be wrong.

The Force is bright. The Force is lighter than it has ever been for the past few years.

And Obi-Wan can't understand why.

It's not just him that can feel it: Ahsoka has acted chipper since, more like the teenager she is, laughing with the clones and playfully teasing him the whole fly back to Coruscant. The temple has felt livelier than ever when they arrived, Jedi from all ages going about their day with a new spring in their step, greeting each other warmly in the corridors. Even Master Yoda has taken a few minutes during their Council meeting to note the shift in the Force. No Master could pinpoint the origin of this change, but all agreed that something good happened somewhere in the galaxy, and they were just feeling ripples of the effect in the Force.

Still now, the whole temple feels a bit more like it used to, before the war, and all Jedi are a bit happier without knowing why.

Only Obi-Wan feels like a noose tightening around him. Whatever it is, it's slowing making its way around his presence in the Force. Focusing on him and him alone. Doesn't matter how much Obi-Wan tries to hide himself, it's getting closer and never slowing down or losing interest.

Needless to say, Obi-Wan has a bad feeling about this.

But after almost three years of war, sullen faces and grim expressions, he doesn't feel like dampening the sudden good mood around the Temple just with a few words. He can probably deal with whatever it is by himself.

His tisane is cold when he finally emerges from his meditation. Nothing is clearer than when he started: the Force is deaf to his questions and inquiries, still light as a breeze. An airy unconcern for his restlessness. And yet, a thick pressure still looms around him, getting heavier each passing second now.

His fingers start pulling on his collar.

The clock on the wall indicates that he lied to Ahsoka when he said he was going to bed at a respectable time today. No diurnal Jedi would still be up right now, but he still considers going out to knock at Mace's door. Narrowed eyes and a very long sigh will be his first answer, but Obi-Wan knows that Mace would never refuse to hear him out. Yes, he finally decides when the pressure seems to creep even closer to him, it's worth waking up Mace.

He opens his door, wondering if he should take his robe with him, and instantly stops walking.

There, in the empty corridor of the Jedi Temple, at his door and on his knees, is a Sith. He knows it's a Sith only because he recognises this specific mass of hair, the large shoulders, the dishevelled dark robe. He knows it's a Sith because he has crossed path with this one enough times on the battlefield to recognise him anywhere. Outside of it a few times too. He isn't sure it's a Sith when the Sith raises his head up, bloody and bruised face torn in an agonizing expression, and his eyes are blue.

"I— I didn't know where to go," Darth Vader says quietly, with the kind of voice expected from a lost child. It gives Obi-Wan a second shock to hear his voice, making his presence suddenly real. "You said... You said if I ever wanted to, if I needed help one day, you would— I could—"

Obi-Wan remembers it. He remembers all the times he offered his help. His pleas for him to stop the violence, the appeals to reason, the multiple suggestions of a gentler path. His hand continuously outreached but never taken. He remembers the burning gold of the Sith's eyes too, and his black cape floating above the dead clones at his feet.

His laughter the first time Obi-Wan brought up the idea of lowering their blades and talking around a cup of tea. His sneer the third time Obi-Wan tried to change his misconceptions about the Jedi Order and play-flirt with him in the same breath. The silence the fifth time Obi-Wan asked him his name, his real name, the one a parent gave him.

The tears the last time he gave it to him.

"And you're always trying to save me," Vader adds more forcefully now, like the words anger him, "you're always here, showing up almost every time I'm sent somewhere with your stupid smile and stupid words, and you're always nice, and... and teasing, and disappointed when I kill someone, like you expect me to be better, and I don't understand you, but..."

Vader raises his hand towards him, and it's only this sudden move that shakes Obi-Wan out of his stupor. Before the Sith can touch his leg, Obi-Wan calls his lightsaber to him, ignites it in one fluid motion, half-expecting Vader to be up and swaying his saber in his face by now. But the Sith is still on his knees, and it's only now that the blue light of his blade is above him that Obi-Wan realises the state he's in. His face isn't the only thing bruised and battered: his dark tunic is stained with blood and ripped in more than one place, one of his arms is bent in an unnatural way, and it looks like a cut above his hairline is still bleeding, making his curls stick to his face in a mess of wet hair and burned skin.

"Vader," Obi-Wan says slowly, when his thoughts finally regain a semblance of coherence. A rapid investigation through the Force assures him that no other enemy is around and the calm and quiet of the night in the Temple isn't a prequel for a storm. "How did you get in here? What are you doing here? How—"

Vader's hand, stuck in the space between them, reaches once again for Obi-Wan. Foolishly, Obi-Wan lets him. His fingers twist themselves in the fabric of his pants.

"He made me killed them all.” Vader wobbles on his knees for a second, the hand on Obi-Wan's leg gripping it tighter. “No platoons, no battle droids. Just me. He sent me to the power station and I cut through them so easily, so quickly, they didn't even fight back, and I didn't think that..." he trails off, panting. "Until.... until I saw the electro-whips."

"Are you talking about Naphtla?" he asks when Vader doesn't seem to be able to continue.

Naphtla. Outer Rim. Barely on the Republic radar until this afternoon, when nearby troops answered a distress signal and found a hidden Separatist power station operated by slaves. A third of them were dead, killed only a few hours before, and the survivors turned to the Republic for immediate support. Slaughtered like animals, the rescue team reported to the Council only a few hours ago, by one single man wielding a red lightsaber. According to witnesses, the darksider cut through the slaves like bantha butter, killing everyone in his path without discrimination, until he stopped for no apparent reason and abruptly left.

"You were the one who killed the people at the station there," Obi-Wan realises out loud, horrified, "the slaves from Zygerria."

Vader snaps his head up and his fingers tighten painfully around Obi-Wan's knee. "I DIDN'T KNOW!"

All Obi-Wan's senses and logical thoughts urge him to back out, put an end to this nonsensical charade, raise his lightsaber between them, get away from the dark, hungry void Vader generates in the Force.

But his eyes are looking up to him. Gripping his gaze with the same intensity as his hand on his leg. Bloodied face and pleading, on his knees. Full of tears.

Obi-Wan doesn't push Vader's hand away.

"I didn't know they were slaves, I didn't!"

"Vader."

"He never said! He sent me without telling him, he knows I don't—" A small noise sounding suspiciously like a sob swallows the rest of his words.

"Vader, who sent—"

"When I came back," he tries again, quieter. Obi-Wan opens his mouth to ask about this he, but Vader's head lolls for a second, too heavy to support, before butting gently against Obi-Wan's leg. Vader makes no effort to move, content to stay there, and after a second, a small, almost timid nuzzle against his thigh sends a series of shivers through Obi-Wan's spine. It shuts him up instantly. "When I came back, he looked at me for so, so long, before saying that he knew, he knew I was going to fail, that I was... just like them after all, and that I could never... And I was so mad, so angry at him, so I... I..."

The last words are muffled by the fabric Vader clings to. Hides into. There's blood on Obi-Wan's pants now.

"What have you done, Vader?" Obi-Wan asks, softer than he intended. "Vader," he asks again when no reply comes, without success. The hand not holding his lightsaber moves, hesitates for a moment, then settles lightly on Vader's hair, mindful not to touch any open wounds. His fingers nudge him to tip his head back, gently, carefully, and settle on his cheek to hold his face up, looking at him. "Anakin." His name, his true name, makes him blink a few times. "Anakin, what have you done?"

"I killed him," he finally admits, barely audible. He looks exhausted, more like a child in need of rest than ever.

"Who did you kill?"

"My master."

"Dooku? You killed Dooku?"

"No," Vader— Anakin frowns, like Obi-Wan should know better. "Sidious."

It's a bit much to process in one day. Another Sith Lord, Vader's master, concealed and kept a secret, now dead, killed by his apprentice —and does that make Vader the ruling Sith Lord now? Do Sith have rulers?— the lightness in the Force the same day, a half-dead Vader begging for help in the middle of the night in the Jedi Temple, and all of that while Obi-Wan is still wearing his ugly slippers.

He's so glad he sent Ahsoka away for the night.

Anakin doesn't let him time to feel the migraine coming.

"I can't do it, I can't be my master, I can't— and Dooku hates me, he will never help me, even if I let him have it all, he will never..." Vader seems to run out of steam, and lets his eyes close as his head falls once again against Obi-Wan's thigh. Closer. "You said you could help me. You said I could come to you at any time. You said you would always be there if I didn't want to... do this, anymore."

"I did," Obi-Wan assures him, his hand lightly petting his hair again.

Anakin lets out a long breath. His fingers tighten on the fabric of Obi-Wan's pants, loosen, and tighten again.

"You're the only one I trust," the Sith quietly tells the Jedi, and it's the saddest thing Obi-Wan has ever heard.

#appleslakesandeuchre #(I changed the end of your prompt a bit I hope it’s fine with you)#asks #obikin #clem's aus #fic i will never write #always a sith anakin au #ahsoka the next morning is HORRIFIED to find a sith on the couch #like 'I knew you had a huge soft spot for him but really master? REALLY?'#obi-wan 'shh don't raise your voice at him'#fic i did write

2K notes · View notes

bottoms-movie · 3 years

Text

SAMBUCKY FIC RECS PT. 2

The first part did really really so I decided to make a second part of sambucky fic recs. Just as the last one: the fics are split into three categories: based on tfatws, canon divergence, and au. CHECK OUT PART ONE HERE All fics are completed and all are on AO3.

BASED ON TFATWS

The Truths Beneath Our Ribs | Mature | 6,742 words

5 times Bucky wears Sam's things +1 time Sam wears something of Bucky's

anything you can do, i’ll do you better | Explicit | 5,526 words

Steve is going to kill them if they don't learn to get along, but did they have to take it so far?

making amends | Explicit | 8,645 words

“Not Cap yet,” Sam said. He looked a little ruefully at his hands, which were covered in nicks and cuts. He could already feel his palms bruising from that last shield catch, but at least nothing was broken this time.

“I respect that,” Bucky said slowly. Sam raised an eyebrow, but didn’t respond. Bucky flexed and unflexed the vibranium fingers of his left hand, a nervous habit that Sam had clocked ages ago. “And you’re right.”

“Thanks, I know.” Sam waited a beat. “About what?”

Barnes sighs, and it’s a deep, soul-weary thing. “Maybe no one ever told you this, but I’m telling you right now. You don’t have any obligation to care about me because Steve did. You don’t have to pretend.”

Sam blinks, taken aback. He has to think, really think, about what he says next, because it’s - it’s either going to build or break something.

You’re My World | Explicit | 6,585 words

“I… oh, I get it now.” Sam tilted his head, perceptive as ever, goddammit. “All this flirting with my sister, that was just to get my attention, wasn’t it? I know it was. Say it.”

“That wasn’t—” Bucky croaked, but Sam wasn’t having it.

He huffed a low laugh, and bulldozed right through Bucky’s feeble pretense. “You like it when I pin you against the wall? Take away all that power you have, that strength that your arm gives you? Make you feel small, maybe?”

Call Me By Your (Pet) Name | Teen | 6,928 words

“You got a list of the nicknames available to us lesser mortals?” Sam continued, staring straight ahead at the seat in front of him. “The ‘you’re not Steve Rogers, so don’t even think about it’ collection?”

“Yeah, sure, there’s a list,” Bucky replied, pausing long enough to draw a pointed look from Sam. “Bucky,” he finished, gesturing broadly with his arm to convey the obviousness of the answer.

5 times Sam and Bucky used pet names as a joke + 1 time they used them in earnest

That’s not very gunkle of you | 2 parts | 4,325 words part 1: Bestie Vibes Only | Teen | 1,822 words

“What’s buzzin’ cousin?” Says Bucky, sitting down next to Sam on the docks.

That’s the moment that Sam realizes he needs to change tactics, no more subtly looking up definitions for his weird old person slang, it’s time to fight fire with fire.

“Not much bro, this view is highkey just hitting different TBH” he says, casually looking out at the water.

There’s a beat of silence and then,

“That’s swell doll, I just ate some four-o cackle jelly with side arms, and I’m looking for some kicks, you dig?

Oh, this means war.

misunderstandings | Not Rated | 3,167 words

Sam thinks Sarah and Bucky had a date, and he's Not Okay

you walked into my life to offer me a better view | Teen | 2,534 words

He was standing twenty feet away at the edge of the docks, chatting with Sarah, and Sam couldn't take his eyes away. Bucky's smile was warm, wide, and when he tipped his head back and laughed, his nose scrunching up and eyes crinkling at the corners, Sam could feel it vibrate straight to his heart.

falling, falling, flying | Teen | 2,778 words

Bucky had kissed him.

And Sam had pulled away, because that beautiful golden sunset made Bucky’s hair gleam with the faintest touch of blond, that rare summer breeze hissed like a dying missile past Sam’s ears, the kiss was so familiar, too familiar, and Sam was falling, falling—

(“Let yourself be happy, Sam. Please.”)

lonely boy, you are my world (and i could be anything you need) | Teen | 5,747 words

It all starts with Sam, a shelter, and this sweet kitten that reminded him far too much of a certain century-old, grouchy super soldier.

too dangerous to fall | Explicit | 3,466 words

Bucky Barnes is a one-armed menace. He has murder eyes and no care for basic safety protocols. His jokes are terrible and his bad moods are worse. He’s a godawful roommate who leaves his wet towels on the floor and his combat knives in the linen cabinet. Sam can’t stand the sight of him.

What happens in Louisiana | General | 3,478 words

But just then, in the engine room of the Wilson family boat, away from prying eyes, it felt like something they both needed. The closeness. The warmth.

Steve would laugh at them. Two grown men not being able to get it together. He would roll his eyes at Buck, nudge him with his elbow and tell him “you’re sweet on Sam Wilson so make a move already, punk.”

keep the ashes from my heart (and walk away) | Explicit | 4,412 words

“Jamie asked me out on a date,” Sam says. Bucky swallows. “Took him long enough,” he says, keeping his tone light. He bumps their shoulders together for good measure. “You should go for it.” “You really think so?” Sam asks, looking at him. “Yeah, man,” Bucky says. He fixes his gaze on Torres, high up in the sky, sunlight glinting off his wings. It hurts Bucky’s eyes. He blinks, rapidly. “You should be with somebody who can make you happy.”

(In which Sam starts dating someone who is not Bucky, and Bucky pines, gets seriously injured, and proves himself wrong.)

Hey Samuel | Teen | 3,223 words

"Bucky."

"Yeah?" He looked up eyes wide. Did he say something out loud?

"We're walking the wrong way."

"Oh." Right. Um. "Let's get ice cream."

"I don't know about you, man, but if I eat ice cream in this weather I will get sick."

Bucky was at a loss for words. What now?

OR Ride along Bucky's journey of figuring out when exactly did he fall for Sam Wilson.

Anyday, everyday | General | 6,735 words

He moved his head and locked eyes with Sam. "D'you- can you.. help me cut my hair?" He asked. He forced himself to look away, feeling embarrassed for asking him to come all this way just to give him a haircut.

His stomach dropped when he felt Sam let go of his hand to stand up. Of course he was about to leave. Who wouldn't want to leave Bucky?

"C'mon, Buck. Let me cut your hair." Bucky's eyes snapped up to Sam's. He had a small smile on his face and his hand was reaching out, waiting for Bucky to take it.

Or; the five times Bucky fell more and more in love with Sam, and the one time he finally got the guts to tell him.

If You’ll Have Me | Teen | 4,779 words

Sam casually shrugged, although there was an intent look in his eyes, "Yeah, well it's getting late and I didn't feel like flying anymore so I was wondering if your old man self is okay with-"

"You can stay here." Bucky quickly finished for him.

I like Bucky, Sam I am | Not Rated | 2,653 words

"I would kiss you on the boat. Or in Wakanda by your goats."

Static in the Dark | Teen | 4,989 words

So prompt idea, some bad guy follows Bucky to the docks for revenge (over whatever you can decide) and Sarah gets to see how protective Bucky really is over Sam when he gets in the line of fire

CANON DIVERGENCE

A Different Kind of Problem | Explicit | 7,616 words

“Do you know what it feels like to be insatiable?”

Two months ago, an interrogation gone wrong left Sam with Bucky’s explicit words seared into his brain and body.

Now, Bucky is living in the Avengers Compound, making pancakes and wearing Steve’s huge sweatshirts, fluffy haired and a little shy, seemingly completely content to be on house arrest — and Sam has never been more confused. Whatever Steve thinks, Sam doesn’t have a problem with Bucky. This domesticity is just so at odds with the feral sexuality Bucky had used to rattle Sam during his interrogation. Where did that side of Bucky go? And why can’t Sam stop thinking about finding it? Maybe Sam does have a problem with Bucky… it’s just not the problem Steve thinks it is.

Bucky’s Choice | Not Rated | 4,753 words

When Bucky enters Westview to try to help Wanda Maximoff, he is confronted with something he never expected- Steve Rogers, back from the dead and ready to start a life with Bucky in Westview. It's everything that Bucky ever wanted, everything that Steve abandoned when he went back in time to live his life with Peggy Carter. But Bucky and Sam have been involved for months, and Sam is waiting for Bucky outside of the Hex. Bucky has to make a choice- the life he always wanted with Steve, or a new start with Sam?

tonight i’ll need you to stay | General | 2,227 words

For once, Bucky wants to stop leaving when things are finally looking up. And he wants people to stay with him, too.

(or, 3 times bucky needed an excuse to stay with sam, and the one time he didn't)

How to Win a Supersoldier in Ten Days | Explicit | 14,901 words

When they realize that all the Winter Soldier's interactions with Sam are just him trying to Awkward MurderBot Flirt (TM) with the sexy man, Steve, Tony, and Nat convince Sam to play the honeypot and bring Bucky in.

Sam's pretty sure the honeypot isn't supposed to fall in love with the target, but what can you do?

at the end of the war (what’s mine is yours) | Mature | 4,290 words

They don't talk about it: that's how it works.

warm blood (feels good, i can’t control it anymore) | Explicit | 4,492 words

Sam's just chilling watching TV one evening when Bucky comes in and stares at him silently for a minute or two before sitting down on the couch. He's pretty close to Sam.

Okay, he's really close to Sam. Like, Sam would be using the word 'cuddling' if it wasn't so bizarre.

"What," he says, carefully not looking at Bucky, and Bucky huffs a sigh.

"Steve's not here," he says as if it's obvious. "Don't make it weird. Just- shut up."

Caught With Their Pants Down | Explicit | 3,539 words

“Sam, this guy is not coming, the intel was false,” Bucky replied. “I get this whole ticking boxes and what not, but Rogers got it wrong, and for the love of God I need a fucking toilet.”

“You need to learn to plan your water intake better, is what you need. You’re a damn fool and I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Because you love me,” Bucky replied, and Sam could hear the smile in his voice.

“In your damn dreams, Barnes.”

They’d been fucking for about six months, but Sam didn’t want Bucky to go getting a big head about it.

sharp teeth, soft heart | 3 parts | 17,866 words part 1: you touch me within and so i (know i could be human once again) | Explicit | 12,444 words

It’s inevitable, the way it goes. He’s my friend, Steve says, and he is, he is, he must be. Sam’s best friend is Steve, and Steve’s best friend is a werewolf, that’s just how Sam’s life works now.

But once he realizes he’s attracted to Bucky and Bucky can tell, everything becomes, like, a thousand percent more difficult to negotiate. Sam’s just trying to live his life, that’s all, and he keeps getting confronted by Bucky Barnes in a soft flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair all soft and shiny. Bucky glances over at him and smirks, and this is really very embarrassing, how Sam can’t hide his attraction even if he keeps a totally straight face.

I’m so into you I can barely breathe | Explicit | 6,515 words

Sam Wilson had a long day dealing with morons, so he decided to finally go to the famous club in town. There he meets someone who just might get him back in a good mood. And then some.

twelve ounce steak (boxers in briefs) | Explicit | 3,753 words

Sam has pretty lips. Bucky seems to think so, too.

caught it bad (i’ll be on the way) | Mature | 4,830 words

Sam constantly gets roped into doing dumb things with Steve, but this time, it works out perfectly for him.

meet me in the a.m. | Teen | 3,147 words

Steve accidently starts a fire and Bucky's tired. When unbelievably hot firefighter Sam saves the day, though, he can't really be that mad.

i wanna savour, save it for later | Not Rated | 6,419 words

"It's his damn ratings, man," Sam says. "It's weird 'cause when you read the reviews, he seems to like our food and all. Nothing but praise for days. And then you get to the rating, and it's always the same. Three goddamn stars."

Bucky tips his beer bottle from side to side, lips pursing slightly. "I see. And that's… a bad thing?"

"We are not a three-star joint," Sam says flatly.

Or, the one where food truck owner Sam gets caught up in his quest to unmask an anonymous food blogger. Falling for one of his regulars was never on the menu.

we were a fire with no smoke | Explicit | 15,295 words

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes. Take the boys out of New York but they’re still Brooklyn Catholics, that’s clear enough. Bucky catches the gesture, smirks hard enough Sam can see his eye teeth. It should be dangerous but he’s beautiful, pale and charming and recklessly easy.

“You wanna come in?” Sam asks, ignoring the noise Steve makes, and Bucky’s smile gets wider.

“Yeah,” he says. Steps up close to Sam. “I do.”

my house of stone, your ivy grows | Teen | 9,042 words

When Sam Wilson inherits the manor of the old man he once took care of, it feels like his luck is finally looking up. It's an opportunity for a fresh start, something he's in desperate need of. When he arrives, however, it becomes clear that an easy transition into estate living is not exactly a possibility. The house is run-down, nothing like Sam remembers it, and the groundskeeper — who Sam apparently has to share the house with, wants nothing to do with him.

You Smiled Because You Knew | Teen | 3,754 words

"You've got the wrong address," the man who'd answered growled. He had long, scraggly hair that had mostly escaped his attempts to pull it away from his face. He had nice eyes, and wouldn't have been unattractive, especially with a shave, except for the scowl. "Nobody here wants or needs your . . . services."

It was apparent by the tone the man did not appreciate Sam's hard work.

Well, that was tough shit.

#marvel #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky #tfatws #sambucky fanfiction #sambucky fic rec #fic recs #usermarcy #usersof #usersmile #usersamanne #sambucky fanfic #tusersammy #tusernini #my fic recs

448 notes · View notes

makeste · 3 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 317: My Boy Was Just Like Me

Previously on BnHA: AFO randomly blew up Lady Nagant as a good reminder of why you should never make a deal with this fucking guy, smdh. Hawks was all “well if it isn’t my two best friends, Deku and Lady Nagant, both of whom I respect and love tremendously.” Everyone was all “??” and Horikoshi was all “shh... just pretend” because it was too embarrassing for him to admit that he forgot to write a couple of set-up flashbacks I guess. Anyway so Hawks got Lady to tell them where AFO was hiding out, and everyone said goodbye to her and Overhaul, who never did get to see his boss (sorry buddy, I’ll send you a vial of my tears in the mail), and headed out to a house in the woods. AFO was all “hello Deku :) :) it sure is fun making you suffer :) :) :) anyways this is a trap”, and blew up the house. Yeah, we all here are getting reaaaaaaaal tired of your shit, AFO.

Today on BnHA: The Hawksquad and Edgeplatoon meet in a warehouse and are all “what should we do about the fact that everything sucks?” Mt. Lady is all “here’s a thought, what if we tried battling AFO with more than six people.” Hawks and Endeavor are all “great initiative, but just a friendly reminder that our friends also suck and would probably betray Deku which would suck further still.” Shouto is all “ANSWER THE PHONE DAD” and Endeavor is all “[IRONICALLY DOESN’T ANSWER THE PHONE].” Meanwhile over in Sadtown, capital of Sadland Prefecture, Japan, Deku is all “All Might, as you can clearly see I am completely fine and good, never been better in fact, definitely not caught up in the throes of an epic mental breakdown which is shutting me down emotionally, anyway so on that note I would like to leave you now goodbye!!” All Might is all “[can’t actually form any words because he’s too distraught].” Fandom is all “o(╥﹏╥)o.” Horikoshi is all “(*＾-’) 乃 [pew pew finger guns and barrel rolls into the darkness].”

sweet jesus lord

this literally doesn’t even look like Deku anymore?? this looks like Dark!Deku who shows up to fight you in that one room in the Water Temple. he looks like he’s about to crawl out of my television set and murder me with his psychic powers good lord

holy shit lmao Horikoshi is really just shrugging his shoulders and resolving last week’s cliffhanger with a single line of dialogue

fire is no one’s weakness. idk what other options you’ve got, AFO, but you’re gonna have to go back to the drawing board. maybe try bees or something. I’m just saying. we’re all expecting fire at this point but nobody is expecting bees

anyway so now they’re all sitting in some warehouse somewhere chatting about it I guess. shoutout to Horikoshi for finally giving my man Edgeshot some more dialogue at long last

well, Edgeshot, to answer your question, she exploded. so naturally she’s fine

nah just kidding, Hawks says she won’t be able to help them out much because she’s recovering from being exploded. this is the part where we all ignore the fact that Hawks got set on fire for like a full ten minutes back during the War arc and was only in the hospital for a day. anyways enjoy your temporary plot hiatus Nagant

man there’s a lot of dialogue here and I’m trying to figure out where to insert commentary but it’s kinda difficult lol. basically, Edge and the others are saying that they should gather up the other remaining heroes and get them all caught up on the whole OFA situation. which, hmmmm

like on the one hand, these guys definitely aren’t going to cut it on their own, so it’s a reasonable suggestion on the face of it. but on the other hand, do we really want to entrust the OFA secret to a bunch of other people, most of whom shat the bed during the War arc to be quite frank? is it really worth the additional risk? especially given that any one of them might go spilling the beans to the public -- or worse, betray them to AFO??

also just a quick side note here, Mt. Lady’s character development never ceases to delight me. she’s become so committed to her responsibility as a hero these days, and it fucking suits her. I genuinely consider to be one of the elites now. I mean it doesn’t hurt that all the other elites are fucking dead lol but still

wait what? Death Arms retired??

Death Arms as in the guy who was too afraid of a little fire to try and save a terrified 14-year-old kid who was slowly suffocating right before his eyes?? that Death Arms???? color me surprised. shocked, I tell you

...okay but holy fuck

Death Arms. bro. my expectations for you were low but holy shit. like I’m sorry, but I don’t even have it in me to try and pretend like I feel the slightest bit of sympathy for him or Old Man Samurai or any of those other guys today. thanks for a whole lot of nothing my dude. good riddance

(ETA: so I’m rereading this the next day and realize this comes off as kind of harsh, so let me just try to clarify. it’s not the fact that he’s quitting that bothers me, to be honest. it’s the fact that he’s quitting specifically because he feels like the public is being mean to him. that’s it.

seriously. it would be one thing if he was quitting because he was scared, because now that is human. nobody wants to die, and I doubt any amount of training can ever fully prepare someone to go up against that fear. but the thing is, he never once mentions that, or talks about the danger aspect. instead, I got the distinct vibe from this speech that Death Arms is one of those people who only became a hero because of the limelight. and I just don’t have any patience for that. if all you care about are likes and subscribes then go become a fucking youtuber or some shit. nothing wrong with that! but you didn’t; you signed up to be a hero and protect these people. they gave you their respect and admiration because they trusted you to protect them. and now that they’re no longer in the mood to worship and applaud your every move on account of them being scared shitless because they’re living in the literal end times, you decide to dip. so like okay, fine then. don’t let the door hit you on the way out. anyways lol sorry for the rant.)

anyway so yeah. perfect example of why I don’t exactly have a ton of faith in most of the remaining heroes out there lol. also let me just once again give a shoutout to my best girl Mt. Lady whom I suddenly find myself appreciating all the more

“please calm down makeste. drink some water and enjoy this fresh new jeans pun” listen Horikoshi don’t tell me what to do dammit

fine. it is a nice pun, I guess

-- damn so now Endeavor’s saying that the media is already being fed info by the retired heroes. so for some of these guys it wasn’t enough for them to abandon all the people they swore to protect and to leave their fellow heroes out in the cold; they decided they might as well actively make things worse for them while they were at it, huh. like I get wanting to spill all the dirty secrets from your old job that you just quit, but this isn’t Jeff Bezos you’re screwing over, this is a sixteen-year-old kid

-- like, yes!! this, right here!!

exactly!! let’s not forget that there are already two prior instances of this happening. Endeavor arguably deserved it, but Katsuki not so much

huh. Endeavor seems to have a more optimistic outlook regarding this than I do lol

I mean, this is the same public that didn’t hesitant to blame a kidnapped child for his own kidnapping, and then later on for being the downfall of the Symbol of Peace. but okay then

anyway so blah blah blah, more talk about how they need to use Deku as bait, which basically puts them back at square one, and then they’re all just trailing off into silence and sitting around in the dark lmao this is getting very depressing

SKDJFLSDKJ:LFKJ

SHOUTO?????

NOOOOOOOO ARE YOU KIDDING ME

OH HOW THE TURNTABLES OMG. THE GHOSTER HAS BECOME THE GHOSTEE. Endeavor you petty son of a bitch. and what a brutal cut to that flashback too. “let’s stop Touya together” nah Shouto I’ve got a better idea why don’t I abandon you in U.A. and sally off with Hawks and Jeanist to found the “let’s pretend like we’re doing something to help Deku” club, which basically consists of us sitting around making terrible decisions all day long

Shouto, honey. you deserve better my little Coca Cola can. .........but if you really do have something important you need to tell your dad you could just text it to him. all the love and support, hugs and kisses, you’re doing amazing sweetie. but if you need to pass on any vital information you can just write it down and hit send honey that’s all I’m saying love

now he’s getting another call?? -- or, no, Hawks is getting a call from All Might

ARE YOU FOR REAL HAWKS OMFG

so while you all were sitting around talking about how useless you are, the kid you’re supposed to be protecting was battling another hired gun. I see. please pardon me for one second, I have a phone call to make. the phone call is to RockLockRock and Manual. the reason for the call is to apologize for calling them the worst bodyguards ever back during the War arc. the reason for the apology is because it turns out I WAS SEVERELY MISTAKEN OMFG

JESUS CHRIST DEKU DID YOU JUST KILL THIS MAN LMAO

shoutout to Horikoshi for offscreening this fight. we get it, lol. Deku strong and scary, villains ineffectual and feeble, and AFO... [checks notes] yep, still a dick. the angst arc continues

-- the angst arc continues, SIR

jesus christ I may have to rethink all of my opinions about Deku being framed for murder in movie 3 lmao. never mind. he did it, your honor

holy fucking shit Deku. “he might blow up, so please be careful” fdlskjflk jlskdjflk lwkejflk anyway so I’ve decided the explosion running gag can stay, actually

DEKU WAIT YOU FORGOT YOUR LUNCH!!

lol why do I get the feeling some serious shit is about to go down. ALL MIGHT NEVER MIND BACK OFF I THINK HE NEEDS HIS SPACE

OH MY FUCK I GASPED OUT LOUD

NO NO NO. I KNEW THIS WAS COMING GODDAMMIT BUT NO. NEVER MIND, I CHANGED MY MIND ABOUT IT, I’M NOT READY TO CRY TODAY

shit. shit shit shit shit and OF COURSE all I can fucking think about is that stupid fucking prophecy and gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Deku please. please please please if you really are going to leave All Might here, please be so very careful in choosing your farewell words to him now because have this sudden horrible fear that this might be the last time you ever see him alive and oh god. oh god oh god

DEKU NO, YOU’RE REALLY NOT!?!?

I HAVE NEVER SEEN ANYONE LESS FINE IN MY LIFE, ACTUALLY????

holy shit. and the fucking callback to the prophecy now. just in case we forgot. WHICH FYI, WE DIDN’T. but that’s basically confirming that this is all still very much on the table and HORIKOSHI NEVER FORGETS oh my god someone please hold me

and the fact that Deku’s flashing back to it now too, though?? because he never forgot either, because of course he didn’t, and now all this stuff is happening, and AFO’s words are getting to him, and this is literally his worst fear come to life and so of course he’s distancing himself from everyone, and now it’s finally come to even this. even the person he admires most

-- OKAY NO, FUCKING COME ON ALREADY I CAN’T TAKE THIS

I GET IT OH MY GOD, I ALREADY UNDERSTAND THE EMOTIONAL IMPACT OF THIS MOMENT WITHOUT ALL OF THE DEVASTATING FLASHBACKS THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH!! YOU ACTUALLY DO WANT ME TO CRY, HUH, IS THAT IT. THIS MAN THAT HE THINKS OF AS A FATHER, THIS MAN WHO HAS BEEN EVERYTHING TO HIM SINCE HE WAS A VERY YOUNG CHILD. EVERYTHING THEY’VE BEEN THROUGH, JUXTAPOSED AGAINST EVERYTHING DEKU IS UP AGAINST, EVERYTHING THAT’S AT RISK. LET’S JUST PUT IT ALL SIDE BY SIDE. LET’S JUST PILE ON ALL OF THE FEELS

(ETA: just a quick note that even though some of the posts I’ve read have described these as All Might’s flashbacks, I’m pretty sure they are Deku’s. most of these are scenes that only he was there for, so yeah. even though All Might is the one thinking the thoughts on the next page, the flashbacks are what’s running through Deku’s mind right now, and so we’re getting that emotion from both of them, which makes it extra devastating lol.)

wait, what???

WHAT??? do you really think that’s why he’s been so determined to protect you this entire time?? simply because you’re his successor?

-- oh no wait lol I think I got that mixed up, this is All Might saying that Deku feels the need to protect him. well that makes more sense lol

oh my god I cannot

his last words. his last words to him. and we can’t even see if he is smiling, like All Might always encouraged him to do. but what are the odds he can’t actually bring himself to do it. what are the odds he’s actually crying. oh god this scene is going to rip my heart out and STOMP on it in the anime isn’t it. Deku’s VA is going to full on murder me with emotion. not that there’ll be much of me left to murder after the thorough job that Horikoshi has already done here

YOU’RE CRYING. DEKU IS LEAVING ALL MIGHT AND IGNORING HIS OUTSTRETCHED HAND AND YOU’RE CRYING. AND BY “YOU” I MEAN “ME”, FUCK

nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope no words just feels just a big ol’ pile of feels. I do not have the strength. future me... [broadly gestures] good luck with all that

(ETA: LOL, WELL THEN.

what breaks my heart here is All Might. All Might, and everything he’s been through, and history repeating itself, and forcing him to live this moment from both sides because he wasn’t strong enough to fix things.

Toshinori had only just turned eighteen when Nana died. like, I feel like we don’t mention this enough. the All Might we know is a sixty-something-year-old man, and so everyone always talks about him like he’s basically been an adult forever. but he was a child when he met Nana. and he was still just a child when she died. barely a year older than Deku is now. younger than Mirio was when we first met him.

and we don’t talk about that. we don’t talk about how devastating that was for him. and we don’t talk about how the reason he grew up to become so reserved and withdrawn -- for all that he always tried so hard to outwardly project the image of a bold, confident, smiling hero -- was specifically because of what AFO did to him. because AFO targeted him in the exact way that he is now targeting Deku. because that’s what he does. he goes after every new user of OFA, and he finds out what’s most important to them, and then he destroys it. and for Toshinori, that was Nana. if you’ve read All Might Rising, you know that AFO basically killed her in front of him (and only killed her, while letting Toshinori and Gran get away). Toshinori (while crying) later says she was like a mother to him. and interestingly enough, during this same conversation, Gran tells Toshinori that he can see “that madness in [his] eyes” when Toshi talks about becoming strong enough to defeat AFO. madness in his eyes. sound familiar??

what’s happening to Deku now is the exact same thing that happened to Toshinori when he was a boy. AFO tried every bit as hard to break him as he’s trying with Deku now. “the path you’ve chosen is a thorny one. every battle grinds away at your soul with no end in sight.” we don’t talk about how Toshinori experienced this same thing for forty fucking years. and all the while isolating himself, exactly like Deku is doing now. pushing people away, exactly like Deku. because he never had anyone who was able to reach out and pull him back. and those words that he now finds himself frozen and unable to speak -- “don’t push yourself”; “you can rest” -- are the same words that no one ever said to him until decades later, when it was already far too late to make any difference.

everything that Deku is experiencing now is what Toshinori also went through. and it’s only now, as he watches it happen to his student, the boy he loves like a son, that he’s finally starting to realize the full extent of how wrong it was. you shouldn’t have to fight alone. you shouldn’t have to bear that kind of enormous burden alone. you shouldn’t have to push yourself, and you can rest. you can rest.

but it’s too late. just as he’s finally coming to understand it all, it’s all too fucking late. and he can’t say the words, he doesn’t know how to say the words, and then just like that, Deku is gone.

and he’s alone. again.)

I can’t. this can’t be their goodbye. I’m not ready. for this to be how they finally part, and then they never see each other again except in OFA. how is that fair. how is that fair. how is that fair

fuck me. lol. how many pages are left in this thing. let’s just wrap this up lol. so now of all the times for this fucking guy to finally show up

I can’t believe Stain has been here literally this entire time hiding behind this random wall and cutting onions. that was you who was cutting the onions, right. no need to answer that we’ll just say it was

HORIKOSHI JUST END THE CHAPTER PLEASE I’M OUT OF SPOONS. YOU HURT ME SO GOOD AND I LOVE YOU FOR IT BUT YOU NEED TO LET ME GO NOW SO I CAN BEGIN THE PROCESS OF TRYING TO PUT MY LIFE BACK IN ORDER HERE. SO WHERE ARE WE CUTTING TO NOW WHAT IS HAPPENING

Stain did you also let AFO give you a new quirk. what’s with you guys. do you like blowing up

oh nvm lol because they were talking about THIS GUY ohhhhhh my fucking god

THAT’S BECAUSE HE’S SAD, LINDA!! jesus

omfg. and so yes, good, the chapter is ending here now on page 15. for once I am FULLY on board with that lmao

anyway so tune in next week for more adventures of Werewolf Deku!! that is, assuming we don’t finally cut back to U.A. at long last, which is actually a strong possibility considering that this chapter will likely mark the end of volume 31. it sure wouldn’t kill Horikoshi to start giving us some hope after everything he’s just put us through lol. KACCHAN COME GET YA BOY

#bnha 317 #all might #midoriya izuku #and endeavor and hawks and mt. lady and all the rest of them I guess #literally forgot all about them by the end lol #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha meta #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #this wound up so long lmao I'm so sorry

368 notes · View notes

imaslutforremusandsirius · 3 years

Note

Its my 3rd request already? Well shit. Could you do a dom Sirius and James and sub Remus and fem reader.. Punishment. In a classroom.. For not doing their homework- And just like... Put EVERY SINGLE ONE of the kinks that you have- When did I turn into a kinky bitch😫

Why are you being bad?

Ft. James‘ and Sirius‘ big dick™️

Read the username and knew the request was gonna be good, Enjoy!! <3

Warning: 18+

---

You had been busy all afternoon yesterday, planning some prefect stuff with Remus. Both of you had been so engrossed in the planning, that the potions essay had completely slipped your mind.

„Fuck they’re gonna be mad. This is the third time we forgot!“ Remus panicked.

„Shit!“ you swore „I knew that we had forgotten something!“

„I don’t want to be punished“ Remus whined „I barely healed from last time. My ass fucking hurts!“

You sat down on the bed and buried your face in your palms, silently thinking of an excuse.

„What if“ you hesitated „What if we just lie and say we did do it. And – and we say that some Slytherins attacked us from behind, vanishing the essays?“

Remus gave you a hopeful look. „You think that’ll work?“

You bit your lip. „It has to otherwise we’re fucked mate.“

Remus snorted. „Don’t call me mate, I’ve fucked you before.“

You laughed at that and took his hand in your own. „Right, lets go.“

---

Remus and you were in your seats, behind Sirius and James. The two doms had been in a sour mood all morning, something about Quidditch being cancelled. Remus‘ hand was squeezing your thigh hard and your leg was bouncing a fucking mile a minute.

„What if they know?“ Remus said.

„If you keep acting like a scared bitch of course they’ll know Rem!“ You whisper-yelled.

„Shut the fuck up, your leg is about to go into cardiac arrest!“ he hissed back.

You instantly stopped bouncing your leg and instead took his hand to calm yourself down. Remus gave you a shaky smile, gripping tight.

„We’ll be fine“ you said, not believing anything you said. Remus just nodded.

„Where are your essays?“ The Professor asked and it took you both a second to realize that he was talking to you.

You chose to answer. „Um- we don’t have it Sir. There have been some difficulties.“

The moment you said that the essay wasn’t done, James turned around to give you a hard stare, jaw already clenching. Sirius let out a small chuckle and nodded to himself, before he turned slowly in his seat to glare at Remus. Your fellow sub nearly crushed your hand.

„We can explain!“ Remus blurted out towards the teacher, but his eyes were trained on Sirius as he spoke. „Could we talk after class, Sir?“ The question was actually directed to Sirius and James.

Sirius just gave him a tight smile and turned around. James didn’t though, he kept staring at you until the Professor told him to turn back to his book.

„Alright, stay after class then.“

---

You told your teacher the same lie you wanted to tell your angry doms and nearly cried with relief when he said that you could hand it in the next day. The moment you two were alone in the classroom, James and Sirius came bursting through the door and threw their bags in the corner. James locked and soundproofed the room, before he stood next to Sirius, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

Sirius took a breath to calm himself and cracked his neck. It was dead silent.

“We know you lied.”

Remus nearly fainted next to you and you chewed your lip anxiously.

“We didn’t lie, Sir.” Your voice was somehow steady and you kept eye contact, shivering a little.

James lost his cool and Sirius had to hold him back from slamming you against the nearest surface. Believe it or not, Sirius was the cold and detached type during punishments, while James lost control of his rage.

“I’ll give you one last chance to tell the truth.” Sirius said, voice still calm.

This time Remus steeled himself and responded. “We didn’t lie, Sir.”

“Alright” Sirius said, a little anger laced his voice now and he turned to the other dom “James, they’re yours.”

Not needing to be told twice, James ripped his belt and tie off and barked out a “On your knees, head down.”

You two dropped to your knees and bowed your heads. James took the belt and tied it around Remus‘ hands, pulling so taunt that the boy winced. Moving towards you he bound yours with the tie and stood up.

“This isn’t gonna be a fun punishment like you’re used to.” Sirius said as he made himself comfortable on the chair, crossing his arms, legs spread wide. He had the regal confidence of a king, looking down at you nonchalantly. “We will stay here as long as it takes for you to confess.”

James took over. “Forgetting your essays after you told us that it’s already done is one thing, but to look at us and lie twice?!” James voice was getting louder with every word and you both trembled “That’s blatant disrespect. We’ve been to lentient lately.”

He took off his blazer and unbuttoned his shirt, rolling up the sleeves. He crouched infront of Remus and grabbed his chin. Remus raised his head but kept his eyes casted on James’ chest out of respect.

“I know that she can be a brat” James mused and gripped harder, bruises already forming on Remus’ chin “but you should have known better baby.”

Remus sniffled and you saw his eyes gloss over, not because James was hurting him, but because of the scolding. Remus hated being bad.

“And you” James yelled, voice hardening when it came to you, knowing he could treat you a little rougher that the werewolf “just can‘t stay out of trouble huh? Do you like making us angry?”

Heaven knows why but James’ tone irked you, sometimes punishments made you feisty. It’s not like everything was your fault. Yes it had been your idea, but you never forced Remus to play along.

For now you decided to keep your mouth shut, not wanting to make it worse for Remus, you loved him too much for that. So you took the blame. Sighing, you nodded, albeit with attitude. James noticed and took off his ring.

Slap.

Your head whipped to the side and you bit your lip from making any noise, but you couldn’t help the little hiss that escaped you.

“Lets try that again” Sirius said this time, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. You glared at him from under your lashes, forcing out a “Yes. I understand.”

Slap.

You bit your lip harder and James noticed and slapped you for the third time. You heard Remus‘ distressed sounds and reigned yourself in. Bowing your head you let out a meek, “Yes, Daddy.”

“Yes Daddy, what?” James sneered.

“Yes Daddy, I understand that it is my fault and I will take my punishment like a good girl.”

“Atta girl” Sirius laughed “Stop trying to play tough.”

The biting undertone made you want to get up and slap them back, but you just clenched your jaw and swallowed your anger.

James stood before you two with his legs spread and hands behind his back. He was oozing dominance and the powerful stance turned you on and scared you at the same time. Remus was affected as well, not daring to move a single inch.

„We have decided to let you do the work“ James grinned menacingly „Skirt off and bend over the desk.“

You stood and flipped your skirt up, struggling a little with your bound wrists.

„God, can you do anything right?“ James groaned and flipped the skirt up, pinching your skin. He couldn’t help it, you just made him lose his mind.

As James was taking off your restrains Sirius took something out of his pocket. You felt him press the toy on your clit and whined a little, pushing back against him.

„Stay still greedy girl“ Sirius muttered and pressed the toy inside of your wet cunt, pushing it in so deep that it pressed against your sweet spot.

Your hands were free and you stood up straight again, gasping when the vibrator turned on. You knees buckled and you had to steady yourself on the desk behind you.

The two doms watched you, biting their lips, veins in their arms flexing as the balled their fists. Sirius and James just wanted to fuck you so bad, but they had a point to make.

„Look at her“ Sirius teased „can‘t even hold herself up.“

James chuckled, licking his lips as he watched you throw your head back and moan loudly.

„Well she is a slut Pads, m‘not surprised.“

You looked at them again, wincing when the vibrations got worse and your legs trembled.

„Don‘t you dare come little girl“ James warned „you‘re already in enough trouble. C‘mon get up, time to pay attention to Remus.“

„Yes, Daddy“ you whimpered, voice breaking.

„Up, boy“ Sirius commanded and Remus scrambled up, head still bowed. He quickly unbuttoned Remus‘ pants and pulled them down, forcing him to bend over the teachers desk by his neck and held him there.

„We have a little game for you.“ Sirius drawled. „Our darling girl is going to punish you with the belt Remmy.“

Remus whimpered softly as Sirius dragged his palms across his sore ass, the skin still red from another punishment. „Hush, I‘m not done. Your Daddy is going to put your favorite vibrator in your tight litte hole.“

Remus was panting now, the way Sirius was whispering in his ear made him leak precum on the table. „If your cum, she doesn‘t get to.“ James finished, giving you a mocking smile when you gaped at them.

„But Remus can‘t hold back for shit-“

James had your head bend backwards in a flash, your neck cracking with the sudden movement as you were forced to look up at the ceiling.

„I‘m done with your fucking games“ James roared at you and your eyes glossed over because of the painful tilt of your head.

„Daddy-“ Remus tried but Sirius spanked him hard.

„I‘m sorry! I‘m sorry! Please, I‘ll be good“ you wailed as James bit down hard on your shoulder, sharp canines drawing little pearls of blood.

„If I hear one more complaint out of your whore mouth we won‘t touch you for an entire month. You won‘t get our attention at all. Do. You. Understand?“

„Yes!“ you sobbed „Yes! Please don‘t!“

He let you go and you knelt down in front of the dom, leaning your head against his thigh as you cried for forgiveness.

„I didn‘t m-mean to“ you hiccuped and James stroked you head lightly. „Prove that you‘re a good girl and your daddies will forgive you.“

Yes, you would prove it. You would make them proud. That was all the motivation you needed and you got up, wiping you tears as you made your way over to Remus. Taking his face in your hands you gave him a slow kiss, whispering a secret „I‘m sorry“ and bend him over the table again.

Remus grit his teeth when he felt the first punishing slap of Sirius‘ belt on his already sore ass. He wasn‘t weak by all means, he is a goddamn werewolf, it was the pleasure he was worried about. See, Remus had a thing for pain.

Both of your vibrators came to life at the same time and you let out simultaneous moans. You nearly dropped the belt and your knees buckled, Remus forhead banged against the table as he groaned from the back of his throat.

„Keep going“ Sirius commanded, the doms watching you closely.

You started to spank Remus again, the other boy was a whimpering mess, sweat dripping down his back.

„Ah please“ he begged, legs clenching to hold his release „please, enough!“

„Five more Rem“ you pleaded „please hold it, five more then you‘re done!“ Youe own voice cracked with the threat of an upcoming orgasm, the vibrations so strong you felt them on your clit.

„I can‘t!“ Remus cried, words garbled. „Ah- no!“

The belt had directly hit his swollen balls from behind and Remus came hard, his cum coating the teachers desk.

„Fuck“ you whined when James arm wrapped around you waist and pulled you back to his chest. His other hand slid inside of your clenching hole and pulled out the toy, taking away your privilege to cum.

„Please“ You were a mess, dripping tears and shaky legs.

James directed you to sit on Sirius lap, the latter cooed and kissed your tears away.

„Hush baby, you know Daddy hates crying. I‘m gonna give you a choice now“ Sirius said, a dangerous glint in his pretty eyes.

„Either we punish Remmy again and you get to cum“ you heard the boy plead in the background, not able to handle another punishment „or we don‘t and you won‘t get cummies. What will it be baby?“

The doms knew that they weren‘t being fair. They were far to agitated to play nice, angry because of the cancelled game and your disobedience. They wanted to be merciless.

Through the fog of your despair you glanced back to make sure Remus was alright. Seeing him all bruised and teary made your heart ache. Fuck, you thought, fuck you Remus Lupin. Fuck you and your cute face.

You decide to not cum and spare him.

„Don‘t punish him“ you said with a heavy heart „I won‘t cum.“

Sirius gave you a pleased smile and kissed you hard. James dragged Remus with him, sitting down and made Remus kneel on the ground at his feet.

„Good choice puppy“ Sirius said, stroking your cheekbones with his thumbs „only good girls put others needs before their own.“

Youwere confused as you stared at your dom. „Daddy?“

„Cum whenever you like“ Sirius said and you felt him push inside of you with a hard thrust.

You gasped, holding onto his shoulders as he pushed up inside of your hot pussy, groaning at the feeling of being so deep inside of you.

„You gonna tell Daddy the truth now?“ Sirius pressed, wanting to hear you confess.

„I‘m sorry Daddy!“ Your voice was high pitched and it was difficult to breathe with the force behind his thrusts.

„Try again“ Sirius moaned, pushing you down to meet his thrusts and you shrieked when his cock hit your sweet spot brutally.

„We lied!“ you wailed „We‘re sorry please!“

They had been torturing your body and mind the entire afternoon and you just wanted to cum. You just wanted to sink into the haze of your release.

„Good girl“, Sirius growled before his hand came down to stroke your clit swiftly. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as you screwed your eyes shut, cumming hard around him. Sirius‘ balls tightened at the sight and he came inside of you, teeth biting over the same spot as James did.

„God puppy“ Sirius praised, his voice trembling „take my cum fuck yes-“

You heard James let out a shout and saw him cum in Remus‘ mouth, forcing him down so deep that you couldn‘t make out his face from the side.

„Swallow or m‘not lettin‘ you up boy.“

Remus‘ choked as he swallowed eagerly, pulling away to show James his empty mouth. James gave his cheek light taps as he murmured a „Good bitch“

Grabbing him under his arms James pulled Remus up, cuddling him against his chest. You sat there for a while, enjoying the manly smell of your doms and their hands tracing your bodies.

„What have you learned?“ James voice still had an edge to it, but it wasn‘t as aggressive anymore.

„We won‘t lie again.“ Remus and you said in unison.

„And?“ Sirius pressed.

„We will tell you when we can‘t finish our essays on time.“ You said, hiding your face in his soft neck.

„We forgive you.“ James said now, reaching over to coax your face out of its hiding. „You did good.“

James‘ praises were always comforting because the dom was a lot harder to impress that Sirius. His voice was completely relaxed now and you saw Remus already fast asleep on his chest.

Maybe lying wasn‘t the best idea after all.

#sirius x remus x james x you #hp marauders #marauders era x reader #marauders smut #sirius x you #remus x you #james x you #smut

607 notes · View notes

shanksbaby · 2 years

Text

Mihawk x Reader - Breaking up ( pt 2 )

pt1

Summary: after you two break up, you see each other

. ‌ ‍‌ ‍ ‌ ‍　‌ ‍ ‌　　　　　�� ‍ ‌it's been about two years since you left Mihawk, the hardest choice you've ever made. You loved him, indeed you still love him, but unfortunately the loneliness on that desert island mixed with the fact that your ex seemed to be there very little and never had led you to this terrible decision.

. ‌ ‍‌ ‍ ‌ ‍　‌ ‍ ‌　　　　　‌ ‍ ‌you often wonder if the decision was right or not, if it was better to act or wait for things to improve, but the past cannot be erased: you cannot go back, however much you still want to be in his arms.

. ‌ ‍‌ ‍ ‌ ‍　‌ ‍ ‌　　　　　‌ ‍ ‌in the last two years you have joined a crew of semi-unknown pirates, after all you did not have a great reputation and you certainly could not join the Shanks crew the red as he was his friend even though you always admired them.

. ‌ ‍‌ ‍ ‌ ‍　‌ ‍ ‌　　　　　‌ ‍ ‌however, you must say that your crew is slowly increasing fame, also thanks to your swordsmanship skills (you should thank Mihawk, for these skills of yours) although you still had a long way to go.

. ‌ ‍‌ ‍ ‌ ‍　‌ ‍ ‌　　　　　‌ ‍ ‌right now you are on your boat heading towards the South Blue, because you have to do a couple of refills. And it is while sailing that you meet Mihawk, who had just been woken up from his nap by you, and therefore decided to cut the boat in two.Luckily for you, you are near a port, so you are shipwrecked there.

. ‌ ‍‌ ‍ ‌ ‍　‌ ‍ ‌　　　　　‌ ‍ ‌apparently he always has his old bad habits, tsk.

<< Hey, you! >> yells the captain of the ship at your ex, obviously unknown that he is the Best Swordsman in the World << Come here, you idiot. Look what you've done. I'll make you pay >>

. ‌ ‍‌ ‍ ‌ ‍　‌ ‍ ‌　　　　　‌ ‍ ‌although you try to shut him up because you know your ex is capable of killing, especially if he is in this mood unless he find someone of interest. And you know that none of the crew can hold their own or be considered interesting.

. ‌ ‍‌ ‍ ‌ ‍　‌ ‍ ‌　　　　　‌ ‍ ‌obviously Mihawk has not pulled back, and approaches his boat to your now divided one. He doesn't notice your presence yet, or at least he doesn't seem to.

<< How pitiful,weak one. >> sentenced the swordsman, getting off his boat to join your captain.

. ‌ ‍‌ ‍ ‌ ‍　‌ ‍ ‌　　　　　‌ ‍ ‌now is the time to act if you don't want your crew to no longer have a captain. You know well the negative reaction or the non-reaction (which is the one that hurts you the most), and you know that you deserve all his hate, and you also know that you are in danger of being cut too but hey, this and more for your own companions!

<< Wait >> you say approaching and whispering to your captain << Trust me, there's no need to challenge him. He is too powerful >>

. ‌ ‍‌ ‍ ‌ ‍　‌ ‍ ‌　　　　　‌ ‍ ‌in that moment Mihawk notices you, his yellow eyes scrutinize you, so much to put you a certain embarrassment. You don't know his emotions about him, as he has always been good at masking it behind a stoic face, but you can only imagine it. As much as he hurts you, you know that what he probably feels is probably just hate.

<< Mihawk >> you say is time addressing your ex, with a lump in your throat << Excuse my captain's behavior, please >>

. ‌ ‍‌ ‍ ‌ ‍　‌ ‍ ‌　　　　　‌ ‍ ‌you don't want this to be your first meeting since the breakup, you would like it to be another one, where you can apologize for how things went, and maybe even explain to him. To solve everything because you miss him so much.

<< No >> says the yellow-eyed man and then draws his great sword << When one man throws a challenge, and the other accepts, the challenge must be made. Or, would you like to fight instead of him? >>

. ‌ ‍‌ ‍ ‌ ‍　‌ ‍ ‌　　　　　‌ ‍ ‌blink several times, surprised by what your ex said. Take a quick look at your captain, and you know that with the raven maybe you could last longer than him, but if Mihawk really were serious you would be dead in seconds: you have already seen the power of his sword.

<< Eh? >> you say hoping in any case to dissuade him <<W-wait---- >>

. ‌ ‍‌ ‍ ‌ ‍　‌ ‍ ‌　　　　　‌ ‍ ‌but before you can finish the sentence, you see him running towards you with the sword above his head, intent on attacking you. You should have known that he only knows one language: that of swords.

. ‌ ‍‌ ‍ ‌ ‍　‌ ‍ ‌　　　　　‌ ‍ ‌luckily you are able to avoid the first blow, you draw your sword and use it to restart from his attacks, which are ferocious unlike the previous times you have seen him fight (normally his blows are elegant.

<< Mihawk! >> you scream trying to parry his blows, more and more intense << Are you trying to kill me? >>

. ‌ ‍‌ ‍ ‌ ‍　‌ ‍ ‌　　　　　‌ ‍ ‌ok, he had every reason in this world to be mad at you but try to kill you. . . Although if he really had that intention he probably would have done it already, in any case he still intends to hit you.

<< Have you spent two years getting this kind of strength? How pitful. >> now he's moved on to insults too, in the meantime it's cornering you more and more.

. ‌ ‍‌ ‍ ‌ ‍　‌ ‍ ‌　　　　　‌ ‍ ‌bam, in parrying your ex's powerful blows you fall to the ground and find his sword under your chin. You raise your eyes to meet his, who fail to hide anger and pain. And you can't help but hate yourself right now.

<< I am sorry >> you murmur still on the ground.

<< I know >>

<<Leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever done >>

<< It doesn't seem like how you left >>

<< You didn't seem hurt when I left you either>>

. ‌ ‍‌ ‍ ‌ ‍　‌ ‍ ‌　　　　　‌ ‍ ‌he doesn't answer you, he just watches you with honey-colored eyes and the tip of the sword still pointed at your chin. Be silent for a good few seconds before you decide to speak.

<< I really mean it, I didn't mean to leave you. But I had no choice: I could no longer be alone on that desert island>>

. ‌ ‍‌ ‍ ‌ ‍　‌ ‍ ‌　　　　　‌ ‍ ‌he is still scrutinizing you, is he perhaps trying to understand if what you say is true? You decide to keep talking, as this may be the last time you see him.

<< You had your things to attend to, while I couldn't leave the castle because I was alone and weak. I know I should have taken it into account when I chose to be with you but. . . I felt alone and left behind >>

. ‌ ‍‌ ‍ ‌ ‍　‌ ‍ ‌　　　　　‌ ‍ ‌in his eyes the anger and pain seem to disappear, leaving room for a soft look, or at least that's what you interpret. He removes the sword from your chin and then puts it down and offers you a hand to get up, which you gladly accept.

. ‌ ‍‌ ‍ ‌ ‍　‌ ‍ ‌　　　　　‌ ‍ ‌after helping, he turns and walks slowly towards his boat.

<< It's not true that it didn't hurt that you left me >>

<< I know.You always hated showing your feelings >>

<< See you next time, Y/N >>

. ‌ ‍‌ ‍ ‌ ‍　‌ ‍ ‌　　　　　‌ ‍ ‌and in your heart the hope of being able to mend a bond with him lights up again, you know that it will not be easy and that you will probably see him again in years but you will wait.

i hope this make sense bdbdb, idk if do a part 3 o leave like this

#mihawk icons #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #mihawk x you #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #one piece #one piece x reader #mihawk x gn reader #one piece x gn reader #op mihawk #mihawk imagine #one piece imagine #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #mihawk x y/n #one piece x oc

115 notes · View notes