#still not as brain-melting as some of his other books but pretty good | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rubyreduji · 2 years

Text

the art of learning how to knock — csc

summary: seungcheol really should learn how to knock

tags: smut (minors dni!), idol!au, 14th member!reader, male!reader, side kmg x reader warnings: explicit unprotected sex, walking in on, masturbating, sex toys, anal play, taking and sending explicit photos, butt plugs, daddy kink wc: 4.4k an: i’m going to be honest this is pretty mingyu heavy oops but they are not the focused couple my bad. also booooo cringey basic ending that yall cant make fun of bc i still kind of like it LOL

Seungcheol wakes up and groans. Despite the rest of the group having a day off today, he, Soonyoung, and Jihoon have a meeting with the higher ups. Slowly Seungcheol gets up and starts to get ready.

When he’s just able to leave he goes to say goodbye to his dorm mates. Joshua bids him goodbye and good luck and Minghao just waves him off, too consumed in his book to truly say goodbye. That only leaves you now.

The little maknae who is far too adored by the group. Seungcheol can’t complain though as he probably dotes on you the most out of everyone. You deserve it though. Even though you’re the baby you make sure to take care of everyone and look out for them. In such a big group it’s natural that some people are closer to some than others, but it seems like you are genuinely close with everyone.

You’re probably still asleep but Seungcheol will just pop into your room and drop a kiss on your head before he leaves. He opens your door but you’re not sleeping. Instead you’re pressed against your wall, crowded up by Mingyu who has one hand in your pants while the other is trailing up your shirt. You gasp as Mingyu sucks at your neck.

Mingyu hears Seungcheol first and pulls away quickly. You whine as all contact is lost. Mingyu’s face is red as he stands, trying to put distance between the two of you like it will convince Seungcheol he didn’t see what he just did.

“C-coups-hyung!” Mingyu says. “That wasn’t- we weren’t- it’s not what you think.”

“So you weren’t just defiling our maknae?” Seungcheol glares at Mingyu, his voice coming out in more of a growl than he expects. Mingyu cowers away. “No, tell me Mingyu, tell me you didn’t just have your hand shoved down his pants.”

“Hyung, I’m so sorry!” You quickly stand and bow to Seungcheol. Automatically Seungcheol melts at seeing you.

“We’ll uh, talk about this when I get back,” Seungcheol tells you. He then turns to Mingyu. “Mingyu. Get out.” Mingyu nods and quickly scrambles out of your room and the dorm. You’re still bowed and Seungcheol walks up to you and lifts your body. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “You’re not in trouble. We’ll talk later, okay?” You only nod and Seungcheol leaves feeling a bit bad that he obviously scared you.

Seungcheol heads to the meeting, his brain still thinking about what he witnessed earlier.

Members hooking up wasn’t unheard of within the K-Pop world. Seungcheol has never experienced it in Seventeen but it was bound to happen. He just didn’t think it would be you and Mingyu.

Seungcheol lets out a long sigh. This is too much to think about.

“Are you okay hyung?” Soonyoung asks him as they ride together in the company elevator.

Seungcheol sighs again. “I caught Mingyu in Y/N’s room this morning.”

“Mingyu and Y/N?” Jihoon pipes up. “You’re joking.”

“I wish.” Seungcheol drags his hands over his face. “I told him we would talk later but I honestly don’t know what I’m going to say to him.”

“Just tell him about the risks and how it’s his and Mingyu’s decision but to be considerate of the group and each other,” Soonyoung shrugs and Seungcheol can’t remember when Soonyoung became the intelligent one but he’ll take it.

After the leaders got done talking to the higher ups they decided to have unit meetings but this now means that Seungcheol has to face you and Mingyu in a room together, along with Vernon and Wonwoo. You guys are all together in Mingyu and Wonwoo’s dorm but nobody has said anything yet as Seungcheol keeps glaring at Mingyu.

“So…” Vernon says. “What did you need to talk to us about hyung?”

“Right uhm, we have a few photo shoots coming up. The company wants us to split up into units to take them. They also want us to do unit songs for our next album so we’ll need to work on that,” Seungcheol says. He’s still glaring at Mingyu a bit and you sigh.

“Hyung, should we talk now?” Seungcheol glances nervously at Vernon and Wonwoo. “They already know.”

“What?” Seungcheol frowns.

“You told Soonyoung, who told Seokmin and Seungkwan, who then told everyone else,” you explain and Seungcheol internally curses himself. Of course. The three loud mouths of the group. “It’s okay Cheol-hyung. We already know everything you’re going to tell us. It’s nothing serious and we’re going to be careful.”

“Still…”

“Can’t you trust me?”

“It’s not that Y/N.” Seungcheol’s brow furrows.

“Then what is it? It’s natural to have…urges. Idols do it all the time.”

Seungcheol doesn’t know how to tell you he doesn’t have an issue with the members hooking up with each other. He has an issue with the members hooking up with you. You seem to come to this realization on your own though.

“Hyung,” you say it like you’re scolding him. “I’m not a baby anymore! I’m twenty-three now. I can take care of myself. You guys act like I’m some innocent child but it’s not like that anymore.”

In theory Seungcheol knows you’re right, but it doesn’t make it any better. Sometimes he wants to just bundle you and Chan up and hide you two away from the world. You’re right, you guys are older now, but that doesn’t stop you two from being his babies.

“Coups-ah.” You stand and walk over to him. You grab his face and squeeze his cheeks in your hands, grinning as you do. “It’s okay~”

“If it makes you feel better hyung,” Mingyu starts.

“Shut up,” Seungcheol growls, which would probably be more intimidating if you weren’t squishing his face right now. Mingyu still shuts up though.

You’re now using your hands to shake his head around. “Relax. We won’t let it get out of hand. Now, is this meeting done?” You drop your hands from his face.

“Well…I guess for now…”

“Okay great!” You lean down and kiss his cheek. "Since everyone knows now though, we don’t have to hide. So maybe uh, don’t come into Mingyu’s room for a bit. Okay bye!” With that you grab Mingyu’s hand and drag him to his bedroom. Mingyu’s face is red as you do but he doesn’t stop you.

Seungcheol glares at your retreating backs. He barely even got to say what he wanted to, but then again he didn’t even know what he wanted to say. Now he has to live with the knowledge that you’re in Mingyu’s room being desecrated by the giant.

“Hyung? You’re a little red in the face,” Wonwoo says.

“I’m fine,” Seungcheol snaps.

“I didn’t say you weren’t! I’m just pointing out your face is a bit red. You know they’ve been doing this for like months now,” Wonwoo says casually.

“What?!”

“No need to snap. Yeah Y/N typically comes up here. I mind my business but I had a hunch on what was happening.” Wonwoo is a little too calm for Seungcheol right now. “Why does it matter so much anyways?”

“Because, it’s Y/N.”

“Hyung…do you…?” Wonwoo doesn’t finish his sentence but Seungcheol understands what he’s implying.

“What? No!” You’re the maknae, that’s all. He doesn’t have feelings for you or anything. Nope, not at all.

“If you so say hyung,” Vernon and Wonwoo mutter.

Seungcheol really needs to learn how to knock.

The members are having a fourteen member dinner together tonight and you haven't read the group chat yet so Seungcheol volunteers to come get you. He thinks you’re taking a nap and he walks into your room to wake you up. But just like last time you are in fact not sleeping.

“Ah, ah, ooh~” your moans fill the room and Seungcheol stops in his tracks, his face turning red at the sight.

You’re draped across your bed, your shirt is pushed up so your stomach is revealed and your pants are just barely pushed down around your thighs. A clear dildo is being thrust into your wet hole and Seungcheol watches the way the puffy pink muscle grips onto the toy as it disappears in and out of you. Your dick is being gripped in your other hand as you pump yourself rapidly.

Seungcheol coughs a bit and you suddenly realize his presence. Seungcheol is looking at the wall by the time you pull the covers over you, face red.

“Oh my god Seungcheol! I’m so sorry.” You bury your face in your hands. “Why does this keep happening?”

“Uh, dinner’s ready,” Seungcheol mumbles.

“R-right. I’ll uh, be right there.”

When you finally sit down at the dinner table your face is still red and Seungcheol still has the image of your puckered hole burned into his brain. The only seat open is the one next to Seungcheol and you two can’t meet each other’s eyes as you sit down.

The rest of the night you two try to avoid each other and you even jump when his leg accidentally bumps into yours. After dinner is finished you split from the group quickly, stating you have a headache. Seungcheol wants to follow after you but decided against it.

Later while laying in bed Seungcheol can’t get you out of his head. The erotic noises you were making and the tantalizing pieces of skin he saw. He can barely fall asleep with his brain running so hard but he eventually is able to get himself to sleep.

Unfortunately for him while he sleeps his brain decides to betray him again. He dreams of your naked, flushed, willing body under him, panting as he runs his hand over your pliant flesh squeezing you in all your soft areas. Your eyes are begging for him to fuck you while small whines leave your throat. You need him.

Seungcheol wakes up with a start, his body drenched in sweat, his cock uncomfortably hard in his boxers. What the fuck is wrong with him. He shouldn’t be having these kinds of thoughts about you. You’re the maknae, the baby. Seungcheol is the leader and the oldest. He was literally yelling at Mingyu the other day because of this.

Then Wonwoo’s stupid words creep into the back of Seungcheol’s head.

Hyung…do you…?

Does he?

Seungcheol has always had a soft spot for you, everyone knows this. It’s evident in the way he teases Chan but dotes on you. He’s close with the other members but he has a special bond with you. He’s never put too much thought into it but maybe now he should.

Seungcheol is aware he’s glaring. It’s not going to stop him though.

You guys are at the photoshoot and you’re waiting for Vernon and Wonwoo to get out of hair and makeup. Your body is pressed into Mingyu’s as he whispers something in your ear and Seungcheol has never wanted to strangle Mingyu more in his life.

Okay, so maybe Seungcheol likes you. Whatever. The realization just makes him want to kill Mingyu even more.

He also wants to kill whoever is your stylist. You’re in oversized black jeans with large rips in the knees, revealing just enough skin where it’s not too distasteful. Your shirt is a loose fitting mesh tank top with a blue cropped zip up hoodie over it. You look hot. Sinfully hot. You have black eyeliner smudged around your eyes and your hair is styled with gel to make it look wet as it hangs in your face.

“Coups-ah!” You call and Seungcheol meets your eyes. “Are you ready?” When he looks he sees that Vernon and Wonwoo are ready now. Seungcheol nods and follows the four of you to the photographer.

The photoshoot goes by fairly smoothly, other than the fact that the photographer is upping your sex appeal and it’s making Seungcheol’s dick hard. He catches a glance at one of the photos where you’re staring at the camera, your piercing eyes on display, your plump lips parted just slightly. You look like an incubus ready to pounce on your next victim.

“Are you okay hyung?” You ask him as you and Wonwoo switch out to take solo pictures. “You look a little flushed. Are you feeling sick?” You press the back of your hand to his forehead. “You’re hot too. Are you going to be able to finish the photoshoot?”

“I’m uh, fine. It’s just a bit hot in here,” Seungcheol lies.

“Hmm well if you get feeling worse don’t push yourself.” You smile kindly at him before going to sit next to Vernon, falling into a quick conversation.

The rest of the day Seungcheol tries to ignore how you and Mingyu hang off of each other and how at one point you take your jacket off so your whole arms and chest are on display and it makes Seungcheol feel like a pervert.

By the time the group gets back to the dorms Seungcheol is annoyed and sexually frustrated. He contemplates just taking a cold shower but he is just a man and instead he jerks off alone in his room thinking about you. Not that it’s anyone’s business.

Seungcheol is going to kill Mingyu. He’s actually going to do it.

Seungcheol is sitting in his room when he gets the notification that someone texted the Seventeen group chat. What Seungcheol sees when he opens the message makes his blood boil (and his dick stir).

Mingyu: Look at what a good boy he is

Attached to the text is a photo of you. No, not just a photo of you, a nude.

Your whole body is bare and your face is shoved into the bed as your ass sits in the air. The picture is taken from a back angle so your puckered hole is on display, one of Mingyu’s large hands is spreading your asscheeks to show it off. Between your legs is your hard cock, red and dripping, begging for release. There’s a white splatter of cum on the small of your back and Mingyu’s dick hangs just barely in frame at the bottom.

What the fuck. What the fuck.

Seungcheol is torn between being appalled and being turned on.

He decides he can be both and gets up to storm to your room. What is Mingyu doing pulling shit like that?

Without much thought Seungcheol barges into your room. Mingyu is sitting on your bed with his legs spread as you kneel on the ground, your mouth stuffed full of Mingyu’s dick.

“Kim Mingyu, what is wrong with you?” Seungcheol growls.

“What the fuck hyung!” Mingyu squeals. Mingyu quickly pulls you off his dick so he can cover up his bare lap. You on the other hand take a second to realize what’s happening.

Your lips are swollen and a bit of spit drips down your chin. There are tears in your eyes as you look around confused. You're still naked and your cock is still hard, still not taken care of. Seungcheol pushes the thought that he could treat you better away in turn to glare at Mingyu again.

“Why did you send that picture to the group chat?” Seungcheol hisses.

“What picture? Oh shit. Did I send that to the main chat?” Mingyu scrambles for his phone. “That was uh, meant for just Chan.”

“Chan!?” Seungcheol whips around to face you. “Are you sleeping with Chan as well?”

“N-no,” you sniffle a bit. “Don’t be mad at me Cheollie please.”

“Shit baby, I’m not mad at you,” Seungcheol assures you.

“Chan wishes he was sleeping with Y/N,” Mingyu pipes up. “And it seems like some of the other guys do too.” Mingyu’s startled manner has been replaced with a cocky one as he scrolls through his phone. “Too bad I got to him first.”

Seungcheol fumbles to pull his phone out and look over the chat. All of the guys seem to be responding positively to the photo. A little too positively.

“It doesn’t matter what the guys think. That was very stupid of you. What if the wrong person got ahold of that photo?” Seungcheol frowns.

“You can’t even see his face!” Mingyu argues back.

“Get out of this dorm, Mingyu,” Seungcheol growls.

“Who’s going to take care of poor Y/N then? Look at him.” Seungcheol does. You’re wiggling your hips around, your hands just twitching to be able to touch yourself. Mingyu pulls you up onto the bed and places you on his lap. He brings his hand down to finally bring relief to your aching cock. “Are you going to take care of him hyung? What were you saying the other day about ‘defiling the maknae’?”

You’re letting out small high keens as you Mingyu continues to work at your cock. You can barely pay attention to the conversation the two men are having, too busy burying your face in Mingyu’s neck.

“You’re the only one who has a problem with this hyung. Why is that? It can’t truly be because you’re a prude. Are you just that protective of Y/N’s innocence? Or…are you just possessive of Y/N? Want him to yourself? Shame if that’s the truth because it looks to me like he’s under my thumb and not yours.” To emphasize his point Mingyu digs his thumb into the slit of your cock and you moan and grip onto Mingyu tighter.

Seungcheol can’t find his words. He can’t take his eyes off your leaking cock. His own cock stirs around in his pants, his anger at Mingyu the only thing keeping it at bay. Mingyu’s hand works at your fast, rougher, and soon you’re cumming, spurting your cum across Mingyu’s hand and your stomach. Your face is blissed out and you’re letting out the most sinful sounds Seungcheol has ever heard.

“Do you still need something Seungcheol?” Mingyu asks. Seungcheol tears his eyes away from you to meet Mingyu’s gaze. “Because if you don’t I suggest you leave.”

Seungcheol wants to yell at Mingyu. Curse him out and scream at him and go into a rage but he sees the way you’re starting to fall asleep in Mingyu’s arms and decides to hold off. Only because of you though. He’ll just yell at Mingyu later.

Y/N: gyu is on some date right now and im just so needy

Y/N: can someone please come help me 🥺

Holy shit.

The text throws Seungcheol off.

It’s sent to the main chat after practice one day. Seungcheol can barely even comprehend Mingyu going on a date because you just asked one of the member to come help get you off. Seungcheol knows the other guys find you attractive and he knows them well enough that a handful of them would gladly take this offer.

He rushes to your room to find he doesn’t even have to barge in, the door is already wide open. His initial idea was to stop any of the guys from going in, and to stop you as well, but when he peeks in from the door frame to see you fisting your cock all of his resolve brakes. Your breath comes out in small pants and a pink flush covers your body. When you look up and see Seungcheol you start to whine.

“C-cheollie~ help me,” you beg.

Swiftly Seungcheol closes your bedroom door and locks it shut.

“Wan’ you so bad. Wan’ed you even before Gyu,” you admit. “Touch me please.”

“Fuck baby, holy shit. You’re so pretty.” Seungcheol slowly approaches the bed as you continue to yank at yourself. “W-what do you need me to do?”

“Fuck me please. Touch me. Anything,” you beg.

Seungcheol hesitates for a second. Is this a bad idea?

Fuck it, he’s already come this far.

Seungcheol surges forward and pulls you into a kiss. Your skin is fevered and soft under Seungcheol’s hands and it drives him feral. God he’s wanted to touch you like this for too long. You kiss at his lips hungrily as he swallows up your moans and whines. Seungcheol drags his hand down your torso and to your crotch.

The wiggling of your hips spurs Seungcehol’s movements on even more and he grabs you in his palm and starts to pump at you. Seungcheol swallows up your soft pants as he kisses you even harder, getting drunk off just your lips.

You break away for a moment so you can speak. “M-more. Please.”

“I’m already touching you baby. You need more than this?”

You nod. “Need something more inside.” You wiggle out of Seungcheol’s grasp so you can turn around, presenting your ass to the older man. There’s a butt plug seated in your hole and Seungcheol has never seen anything hotter in his life.

Seungcheol is barely thinking as he strips himself of his clothes and grabs the bottle of lube on your bedside table. He kneads at your ass with one hand while he pumps his own length with the other.

Gently Seungcheol removes the plug from your ass but you still whine at the feeling. Seungcheol tries to soothe you as he pours lube onto his cock. He lines himself up to your hole and starts to push in. He can barely fit his tip in to begin with. You’re tight even with all the preparation you did beforehand.

“Shit Y/N,” Seungcheol groans as he shallowly thrusts into you, trying to get you to take more of him.

“H-hyung,” you whine.

“How are you so tight?” Seungcheol groans. “Mingyu not fuck you good enough?”

“Uh uh, not as good as you would,” you say. “G-gyu acts all p-possessive, but he isn’t. P-plays a part to r-rile you up.” You stumble through your words. “He was helping me get your attention.”

Seungcheol played right into you and Mingyu’s hand. Well shit.

“A-are you mad d-daddy?” You ask, the name slipping out of your mouth. Seungcheol embarrassingly finds it hot.

“Fuck baby. Could never be mad at you. Should have just told me though. Daddy would have come and fucked you nice and good,” Seungcheol tells you as he ruts into you even more. Your hole loosens a bit and he’s able to shealth his full length into you. “Good boy, taking me so well.”

Seungcheol’s grip on your hips is tight as he starts to fully rock into you. Your body is already trembling under his and you’re mewling out with every hit of Seungcheol’s tip. Seungcheol picks up his pace to something that could only be described as animalistic. His hand presses between your shoulder blades, pushing you down into the mattress even more. Your whole body is nearly pushed into the bed, your hips grinding up against the sheets.

You’re babbling nonsense as Seungcheol fucks you. Your drool is dripping down onto the bed and tears are starting to form in your eyes as well. Seungcheol can’t focus on anything other than the way you're wrapped around his cock, squeezing him so tightly as he pounded into your ass.

“So good for me. Such a pretty boy. Yeah just like that baby,” Seungcheol coos. He can feel his balls tightening the more he plows into you.

Everything about you is intoxicating. Your skin is soft and warm under his palms and he loves how it feels when he squeezes at the pliant flesh. The noises you keep making are doing nothing but spurring on Seungcheol’s orgasm, the high pitched whimpers going straight to his dick.

Seungcheol has never been an overtly sexual person but he thinks he might become one if you keep it up like this. His mind floods with different scenarios where he could have you. A quickie backstage before a performance. Crowding you up after rehearsal in the dance room. Bent over in the car right before you guys catch a flight. He wants to do everything with you. Try new things with you.

“Daddy!” You cry out. “Need’a cum.”

“I got you baby.” Seungcheol reaches around your body to grab your cock in his hand. It’s heavy and he can feel the veins along it as he starts to pump you in his fist. “Cum whenever you want. Shit. Gonna cum too. Where do you-”

“Inside!” You call out. “Please. Need to be stuffed full with your cum.”

“Holy shit,” Seungcheol groans and he releases right then, spilling his load into your hole. The feeling of his cum inside of you drives you over the edge as well and you’re cumming all over Seungcheol’s hand. When you come down from your climax your body slumps onto the bed, out of breath.

Seungcheol pulls out of you and flops down beside you. He brings his hands up to play with your hair as you shuffle around to lay on his chest.

“You okay baby?” Seungcheol asks in a whisper.

You weakly nod a bit. “Feel good.”

“I’m going to be honest I don’t think this can be a one time thing for me,” Seungcheol admits.

“Good. I like you Seungcheol. Like, I really like you. I thought you just saw me as some kid though,” you say softly.

Seungcheol chuckles at this. “I think you’ve proven that you’re not just a kid anymore. So…you and Mingyu really weren’t…?”

“Ah,” you hide your face in his chest a bit, “that. We were talking one day and I kind of brought up how it’s hard to do anything as an idol and he agreed and then offered to help me out if I ever wanted. Then I brought up my crush on you and he said he could also help with that and well, you know.”

“Wonwoo said you guys had been doing stuff together for months.”

“Wonwoo…may or may not have been a part of it as well,” you admit sheepishly. “Mingyu and I did do stuff, just not to that extent. Everytime you caught us it was on purpose. Gyu knows you’re awful at knocking and decided to uh, use that to our advantage.”

Seungcheol stares at you incredulously. He has caught you guys…purposefully. That’s something he didn’t see coming.

“God you’re going to be the death of me,” Seungcheol mutters.

“Yeah,” you say sweetly, “but I think it's worth it.”

“Oh do you now?” Seungcheol teases and you nod, grinning back at him. “You’re lucky I think so too,” he says before swooping down to kiss you and he decides that yeah, maybe his habit of not knocking isn’t such a bad thing after all.

a/n 2: im not going to tag anyone for this fic just because most of my readers don't want to read male readers but i have updated my taglist to be more thorough so either refill it out or send an ask if there's content you do/don't want to be tagged for! thanks xx

join my taglist: here!

1K notes · View notes

midnightloversmusic · 7 months

Note

hii, for flufftober, what about muggle!reader doing poly!marauders halloween makeup looks?

(it can be platonic or romantic)

thank you, have a good day!

Face Paint & Kisses

Flufftober day 2

poly!marauders x reader

Hey anon! Thank you so much for requesting I loved this idea so much. I made it romantic, I hope that's okay :)

enjoy!

masterlist

"When he pulls away your brain is fuzzy and you feel so full of love you might just melt in his arms. He moves to sit back up on the counter and you retake your earlier position in between his legs.

“You ready to do it all again baby?”

————————————————————————

“Sit still”

“I can't,” James says in almost a whine.

The boys had asked you to do their makeup for the Halloween party Marlene was throwing. You had all your boys sit on the bathroom counter while you stood in between their legs.

Remus sat still the entire time, to be fair his make up only included some black face paint making triangles around his eyes and some black lipstick making his smirk more noticeable.

Sirius surprisingly also stayed pretty still. He's used to you doing his makeup and sat still as long as you agreed to kiss him after every step and have Remus hold his hand as somewhat of a reward. His makeup was black smudged eyeliner with shiny dark red lipstick. He wanted to be some sort of seductive pirate.

James on the other hand just wouldn't stop wiggling.

“James, baby, I love you but if you move one more time I might just leave you here with a half done face of makeup”

his pout makes you question your choice of words. You have tried everything from putting on a show behind you to kissing him after each step like you do with Sirius. But James isn't Sirius, he's James and James needs to move.

James wanted the most complicated look of all. He wanted the skeleton makeup look that Tate Langdon wore in American Horror Story. Doing this look on Remus would have been difficult in itself but on James? You really had your work cut out.

“Alright, new strategy!” you yell out after almost stabbing James’ eye with the brush you were using when he jerked his head to the side to see what Sirius was doing.

“Sirius,” He turns to you immediately looking at you with his puppy eyes waiting for instruction. He's adorable, you thought to yourself quickly.

“You go stand on the far wall of the bedroom”

“Yes ma’am," he replies, doing a soldier's salute on his way out of the bathroom.

“Remus,”

He looks up from the book he's reading,

“Yes, love?”

“Can you lay on the bed for me?”

“M’kay” he hums and he leans over your shoulder and places a light kiss on your cheek and a kiss on James's forehead on the way out.

“Now, James”

The poor boy just looked confused now, wondering why his boyfriends had been ordered to leave the bathroom. You find the crease between his eyebrows incredibly endearing.

“I’m going to set a timer for 3:00 minutes and do as much makeup as I can. You can play with my rings while I do it, just try your hardest to stay still. After the three minutes are done I want you to get up, run to the bedroom, go give Sirius a big kiss anywhere you see fit.” You see his eyes sparkle up with mischief “not that” “And then I want you to flop down onto the bed give Remus a hug and a kiss and then come back here and sit back up on the counter and give me a kiss. Sound good baby?”

James was already bouncing in his seat, already wanting to go do his new task. Seeing that you caved and said

“Why don't you go do a practice round real quick?”

“Can you time me please?”

“Of course baby”

With the confirmation he dashes out of the bathroom and promptly jumps onto Sirius who lets out a “hmph” in response to getting the breath knocked out of him. James decided to give him a big wet kiss right on the cheek and he pops off with a comical smooching sound. Right when he's done he runs to Remus, who is already bracing himself to be jumped on, and he flops down right on top of him.

James looked down at Remus with a lovesick expression and whispered a soft “Hi”

Remus just giggled and replied with a soft “Hey baby” although that's all that he could get out before James smothers him in kisses from his forehead down to his collarbones.

He must have remembered he was being timed at some point because he jumped up off the bed and ran full speed at you. You're a giggling mess before he even reaches you, and then when he does reach you he quickly grabs your waist and one of your arms, twirls you (yes he actually twirls you like you were in a romcom) then he dips you down and kisses you. A sweet long kiss that makes your head spin and frankly you're surprised that your legs haven't given out because of it.

When he pulls away your brain is fuzzy and you feel so full of love you might just melt in his arms. He moves to sit back up on the counter and you retake your earlier position in between his legs.

“You ready to do it all again baby?”

#remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader #poly marauders #sirius black #marauders x reader #poly!marauders #flufftober #sirius black fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #james potter x you #remus lupin blurb #remus fluff #james fleamont potter

187 notes · View notes

nariism · 10 months

Text

kiss me stupid!

pair. isagi yoichi x gn!reader

content: fluff, a little pda, mutual pining, college au

synopsis. poor isagi just wanted to study. unfortunately, you had other plans

wc. 0.9k

"can i ask you something?"

isagi gazes up tiredly from his book, silently gesturing for you to continue. the pen by your ear clicks again and again as you open and close it with your thumb. click. click. click.

you're not looking at him when you ask:

"have you ever wanted to kiss someone stupid?"

he sputters in response, because who wouldn't? and you're still not even looking at him. you seem more interested in your notes than the fact that you just misaligned the planets by about 40 degrees for him.

thick silence fills the air, save for the clicking of your pen. click. click. click. cl-

he's going to go insane. he's going to go crazy. his brain is melting. he needs a second — just one second to think about what the hell you just said.

isagi reaches forward across the table with a frown, grabbing at the pen in your fingers and snatching it away from you. "quit that," he scolds.

you finally glance up at him from your notebook when he steals it, eyeing him carefully. he feels his face heating up both in embarrassment and from being slightly flustered. your gaze is so scrutinizing right now. he's convinced you can hear the thousands of thoughts running through his mind.

"don't avoid my question."

isagi huffs. you're too good at reading him and it's not fair. not when you look so calm and indifferent to the way you're flipping his entire world upside down with some silly grade school question.

"i just—" he sighs, cheek falling into his palm as he rests his elbows on the table. so much for getting any productive studying done. "i don't get what you're trying to ask."

"like, kissing someone 'til your brain is all mush." your hands come up beside your head to emphasize, massaging your temples. "until you're both laughing and can't think straight. 'til you can't breathe."

you're being oddly descriptive and it's not helping his situation at all. heat rises to the tips of his ears and he's sure his flush is entirely visible now.

"have you?" he asks suspiciously, because it sounds like you've put some thought into it. you simply hum in response, reaching over to grab your pen back from him. the action causes your leg to bump against his under the table and he nearly screams.

“so what if i have?”

“stop trying to be mysterious and answer me!”

"i asked you first."

"no, i—" you look at him strange and he crumbles on the spot. the honest answer comes before he can stop it. "yeah, i have. happy?"

you smile at his red face and furrowed brows. "really? who?"

he wants to grab you by the shoulders and shake you aggressively and yell in your face: you, idiot! you! quit being a tease and kiss me already!

he just sulks in his seat instead, arms crossed and trying to hold onto his last bit of sanity. "like i would tell you, nosy."

you scoff in response, reaching back over the table and tapping his forehead lightly with the end of your pen. "promise i won't use it against you. please? pretty please?"

though you're still teasing him, there's genuine curiosity written all over your face. it's just mixed in there somewhere underneath that humour. and he knows you wouldn't tell anyone if he told you about having a silly crush. but the circumstances are... different right now.

he swats the pen away from his face. "no way."

you stand up, the chair you were sitting in scraping across the carpeted floor. your face leans in close to his. too close. he's going to have a heart attack. oh fucking christ.

you move in to examine him, eyes dragging all over his expression to read it. there's no way this behaviour is appropriate for a public library, but for some reason he doesn't shove your face away from his.

"i'm not dense, you know." your voice is quiet but it somehow feels like a million decibels ringing in his ear.

"i know that," he stammers out. he doesn't know how to handle himself when you're so close to him. he's never been good at steeling his nerves around you.

"then why are you acting like you don't want to kiss me stupid right now?"

"i- i don't- i—" he blinks at you incredulously.

"you don't what, yoichi? don't wanna kiss me stupid?"

"i didn't say that!"

"so you do wanna kiss me stupid?"

he leans in a little closer. "do you want me to kiss you stupid?!"

isagi notices too late that his voice is shaking, and that his involuntary increase in volume is earning him glares from other students.

whatever. he doesn't care any more. he can't focus on doing his project if you're distracting him like this.

for a split second you wonder why you're stumbling until the backs of your knees knock your chair. then you realize that his lips have crashed against yours rather clumsily.

it's only a few moments. for a beat you're convinced you're dreaming until his tongue lightly runs along your bottom lip and you get slapped in the face with reality.

you stare at him dumbly when he pulls back looking embarrassed to all hell.

what. just. happened.

he quickly sits back down again when he glances around and finds the other students staring and gawking at the both of you. he's completely red in the face, and he nervously buries his face back into his book. he can kiss you stupid later. right now, just this one should suffice.

"would you shut up and take your notes now?!"

4 my one and only 🤍

#— whispers in the wind ✧#in the mood for fluff today #tooth rotting fluff is good for the soul #blue lock #bllk #isagi yoichi #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi x y/n #isagi yoichi x you #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #blue lock drabbles #isagi fluff

271 notes · View notes

thesecondrabbithole · 4 months

Text

springtrap stuff

im like. thinking about my fnaf au with springtrap bc he’s a fantastic zombie rabbit furry with a lot of problems

so I’m gonna subject to you all with some facts and hcs

during the time he was springlocked, William had already injected himself with remnant which kept him alive and in a bit of a dreamlike state and in constant pain at the same time

springtrap goes into like a void?? his brain still functions even hours after getting springlocked and with the added remnant coursing through him, it forces him into a place where he relieves certain memories of his life

it goes back in forth, where one moment he’s remembering the first time creating the diner and cut back into another memory of his childhood

however these little flashes occur less as springtrap goes back to experiencing the pain of being impaled in every single possible way

remnant is not the only thing that keeps him alive, it is also his sheer will to survive and his anger/vengeance like this man refuses to die and continue to be angry (his agony, emotions are very strong)

over the years, the suffering and anger just kind of melts his mind a lil bit and he becomes more feral (he’s still william afton just a lot more,,,angry cat)

bro also has mushrooms growing on him

springtrap has tons of mycelium (thread like filaments) within him that basically suck out the nutrients of his body

shadow bonnie, in charge of keeping him in bay, eases him (I also have an idea that she’s the one to bring him good memories too as a way for him to move on kind of how in the frights books where jake is able to leave the stitchwraith body via remembering good memories)

that doesn’t work oopsies

springtrap has stitches all over his body, some were made by shadow bon or by himself in order to keep himself together (he made those after escaping the closed room and the horror attraction)

he absolutely loathes crows

the birds keep coming back to take a piece what’s left of his rotten corpse and at one point, many of them flocked towards him in such a violent manner he has ptsd from it that he reacts really aggressively at the sight or even mention of them

springtrap thinks quite highly of himself since he was able to cheat death

he’s no longer william afton he’s something MORE not the man he used to be, william is of the past now

but deep down hes pretty conflicted with it, since after living for so long he kinda just wants to end it all (tho his fear of death, i hc that springtrap is terrified at the prospect of it, prevents him)

he’s a gaslight gatekeep girlboss

springtrap sometimes loves toying with his victims but only if he considers them to be enough for his time and effort

other times he just kills them just for the remnant

he misses his family and henry more than he likes to admit it

he adores his wife very much!! but keeps trying to convince himself she’s just going to be in the way (she’s the identity of shadow bonnie btw)

doesn’t actually hate michael but is still angry due to the bite of 83 and the fires

#fnaf #springtrap #gonna do more definitely #tumblr finally works and now I can dump all the lore and stuff aaaa #william afton

23 notes · View notes

lovelylinnn · 5 months

Text

MY FIRST STEDDIE FIC WOOO

Title: make my brain go quiet

includes: fluff and slight angst. hurt/comfort.

eddie’s brain was in no way quiet. and of course steve knew that when he had met him, but he didn’t know the extent of it.

eddie knew in a way that other people’s brains did not work the same way his did. when he watched other people throughout his life, he didn’t even realize just how different he was. he just knew something was.. off.

from how much he talked, to the millions of thoughts running through his head, to the never sitting still; fidgeting, pacing, and late night walks when he couldn’t sleep. never having enough time during tests, struggling with making friends, figuring out how to read.

everything was a struggle. he hated himself. he thought he was stupid. everyone said he was, anyway.

the only person that made him feel better was his uncle wayne, and even then, he still didn’t ever feel smart enough. good enough.

that was, until steve.

they had been dating for a couple years now. eddie still thought about their first date, a month in. it was a movie night at eddie’s trailer, he had made popcorn, set out various chips, and rented the movie.

and then he talked pretty much the whole time.

he just couldn’t help himself. any time something interesting happened he had to make a comment. it was an impulse; an urge.

but steve hadn’t said anything in return.

and after the movie, eddie talked for maybe about 20 minutes about the ending of it. he hated cliffhangers, and of course it ended with one.

“that was complete bullshit! they killed off the main girl and we didn’t even know who the killer was? i mean, cmon!” he exclaimed, beginning to wash the dishes. steve stood next to him and nodded in response.

then eddie’s face fell. he realized it. he had been talking this entire time.

“sorry,” he mumbled, “i’ll shut up now.”

he expected something mean in response. it was always mean, so how could he not? it was always a, “i was hoping so,” or “good,” or “i thought you wouldn’t stop,”

but what steve did in response just melted his heart.

“keep talking, please. i like to hear your voice,” he said quietly in response, a small smile playing on his face, “plus you had a very fair point about the movie.”

eddie smiled brightly, a light pink beginning to dance on his cheeks.

“you’re not annoyed?” he asked. he was still unsure. he didn’t want to get his hopes up. his brain was still screaming at him to shut up.

“i’m being serious, i’m not annoyed at all, ed. i like hearing you speak,”

eddie’s smile got wider. he stayed silent for another couple moments.

“well, okay,”

and that was that.

about a year into the relationship, steve had come across his journal. eddie’s therapist had mentioned something about writing his millions of thoughts down, especially if they’re negative or something.

and eddie didn’t know why, maybe it was the weed, but he let steve read his journal.

eddie was always the talker in the relationship, yes. but steve didn’t really know just how much he thought until he read them. pages and pages of rants, ideas, drawings, anything that had popped up in his mind.

and he thought it was completely endearing.

eddie was honestly expecting something mean in response again as he flipped through the pages. his ears were red, and he was trying to play off his embarrassment as cockiness, but honestly it probably wasn’t working.

“you have a really cool mind, eddie,” he spoke after a few minutes, “some of this is really interesting.”

he blushed deeply and stammered, “th-thanks.”

steve closed the journal and handed it back to him, kissing him on the cheek, “of course.”

and fast forward to now. steve was staying as eddie’s trailer for a couple nights with a slight cold. eddie had always made him feel better. the time was around 4pm, which meant he would be home from school soon.

he sat on the couch by the trailer door reading a book, a blanket on his lap and he sat in silence.

he hated it. he missed eddie’s rambling, or humming. he needed something to fill how quiet it was. it was always way too quiet in his house. his parents were there, but not emotionally. especially not now, when he was an adult and didn’t need to stay there anymore.

eddie was the opposite. and he loved it.

he heard the door unlock, and his heart jumped a little out of excitement. he smiled and sat up, closing the book and waiting.

“hey, eds. glad you’re home,”

eddie looked at him and the other man immediately knew something was wrong.

“what’s up?”

he sighed heavily, rubbing his tired eyes and going over to him on the couch. steve sat back, letting him lay down on him in between his legs. his head sat on his lower chest, arms wrapping around him. steve played with his hair, which was something only he and wayne were allowed to do.

“you okay? what’s wrong?”

“brain’s being too loud today. everything was so bright at school and i hated it,” he said. his eyes closed and his arms wrapped tighter around steve.

“ah, i see. i’m sorry about that, eddie.”

“‘s okay,” he muttered, “i love you.”

“i love you too,” and he spoke again after a few moments, “so, laying on me helps i suppose?”

eddie nodded in his chest, humming an approval.

“yeah. you make my brain go quiet.”

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

20 notes · View notes

hansols-yoda-boxers · 1 year

Text

You Just Put the Dick in Your Mouth - Part 3

Yang Jeongin x Kim Seungmin

Word Count: 6844

Contents: innie’s self deprecating thoughts are getting worse, best friends to lovers, angst, jeongin crying, handjob, fingering, accidental confession

Previous | Next

Confused.

That’s how Jeongin felt.

Every day of the last nearly two weeks he and Seungmin seemed to be straying further and further from friendship. It seemed something about seeking comfort from Jeongin had changed Seungmin, or at least how they interacted. He was always nice and kind and caring towards Jeongin. He always had been. He had always checked up on him or helped him with things or just made sure Jeongin was okay.

But something about it all felt decidedly softer. Aside from the fact that Seungmin was seeking out cuddles from him every few days now and more than once they had fallen asleep in the other’s bed, Seungmin had taken to making Jeongin food, giving him more hugs, and even holding his hand once while watching a movie, humming out that it was a nice and comforting feeling.

Jeongin thought that at some point his heart wouldn’t be able to take it any more. It was almost painful, the way Seungmin would softly speak to him, asking “Did you eat yet?” or “Did you sleep well?” He really thought his heart would burst from hearing “Your hair looks good like that, Innie.” again.

His heart was aching in the worst way tonight as he laid in Seungmin’s arms yet again, fingers running through his hair while his mind contorted into horrid shapes. Everything felt so comfortable and right and it was all Jeongin wanted. All of the actions; the kisses, the cuddles, the sweetness and softness and care was like a dream come true.

But…

Seungmin wasn’t his and he wasn’t Seungmin’s. Wouldn't Seungmin say it if he wanted to be with him? Wouldn’t he have asked him outright if he felt the way Jeongin did? So what was he doing? He couldn’t stomach the idea that his friend was taking advantage of him for sex or comfort or even all the benefits of dating without exclusively dating. Seungmin wouldn’t do that to him. He couldn’t.

So it left the lingering question; why was he doing this?

“You okay, Innie?” Seungmin’s voice was soft in the way that made Jeongin’s heart melt no matter how many times he heard the phrase, filled with sweetness and gentle concern.

“Yeah,” Innie knew he sounded far away because he was. His body felt so comfortable but there was dull pain in his heart and his brain couldn’t keep quiet and still for more than a second. He wanted too badly for this to be his life, his everyday, his everything.

But Seungmin wanted his friendship and asking the question or making the admission to get what he wanted jeopardized that, maybe it would even destroy it.

That thought was even harder to bear.

“You seem lost in thought.”

Like an open fucking book. He thought. It was worse that Seungmin knew his body language, his expressions, his mind. He had no poker face with him. Utterly defenseless without any hope of putting a guard up. What was the use of a shield when Seungmin could disarm him so effortlessly with a single look from his soft eyes.

Putty, he thought to himself. A pathetic little ball of putty in his hands.

Maybe that was the worst part. No matter what Seungmin truly wanted, Jeongin didn’t know that he had the strength to turn it down. He would, all too easily, take anything Seungmin was willing to give him, whether it was what he truly wanted or not. He just wanted to be close to him like this, even if it didn’t include a pretty title. Even if he wasn’t Seungmin’s Innie.

“Yeah,” he hummed, snuggling into Seungmin’s chest a little more. “I guess I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Jeongin hesitated, biting down on his lip while he contemplated what to say and how to say it. He didn’t know that opening up about it all was the best of decisions. Or maybe he was just a coward, too scared to ask for what he truly wanted. Unable to properly face his own feelings and put it out there.

How asking to give his friend a blowjob was easier than asking him to be his boyfriend he didn’t know. All that he knew is it was, in fact, much easier.

Seungmin’s fingers curled into Jeongin’s hair and tugged back very gently, only enough to urge Jeongin to look at him. Jeongin relented, unable to resist Seungmin’s sweet coaxing. He leaned back, feeling the warmth rise under his skin as Seungmin gazed at him with concern, again brushing his fingers soothingly through Jeongin’s hair.

“What’s going on?” He asked with the type of gingerly careful tone Jeongin was sure he’d only ever heard in dramas.

“Just…” He wasn’t sure what to say, knowing he would never in a million years get a confession off his lips. He didn’t think he would ever in his right mind be able to convince himself to express his true feelings, even if they were sitting in the back of his throat like if he was careless he might just cough them out. “Just stuff. I-I have some things on my mind and I’m not sure what to do about them.”

“Do you need some advice?” Seungmin hummed.

A smile tugged at Jeongin’s lips, if only he could ask Seungmin. This was perhaps the one matter in the whole world in which he couldn’t seek advice from him. “Maybe in the future? I think I need to really understand my own feelings first.”

“Okay,” Seungmin gave him a kiss on the nose. “You know you can come to me whenever, yeah?”

Not about this.

“Yeah, I know,” Jeongin hummed, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against Seungmin’s lips. “Thanks for being there for me.” Another kiss.

“Of course,” Seungmin smiled into the kisses. “I really care about you.”

Jeongin tried hard to quell the way the butterflies in his stomach got caught up in the tornado-like storm that was originating from his heart. “I care about you, too.” So close to what he wanted to say. If he wasn’t such a wimp maybe he would actually be able to take a leap of faith. “A lot.”

Seungmin nuzzled his nose against Jeongin’s in a way that made Jeongin utterly melt. It was all too sweet and it made his heart hurt worse and worse.

“I’m glad I have you around, you know,” Seungmin murmured. “I mean, I’m glad you’re in my life.”

Jeongin ducked his head, sure that his heart was about to burst. It was bad enough that he was so sweet and soft these days but the sweet nothings that had started leaving his lips as of late when they cuddled were really going to be Jeongin’s undoing. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could survive. He didn’t know how Seungmin could say something so sweet with purely platonic intentions. He didn’t know how he was managing to hide the way it was tearing his heart into little tiny pieces.

“You’re too nice,” Jeongin mumbled.

“I just like you too much,” Seungmin chuckled. “You’re so warm and comfy I can’t help myself.” He coaxed Jeongin’s face out from his neck only to pinch his cheek gently. “You’re just too cute. I feel like I have to tell you.”

“Shut up.” The words were muffled against Seungmin’s lips as Jeongin kissed him in some futile attempt to escape the way Seungmin’s words were messing with his head. The whole gesture made Seungmin laugh but he returned the kisses anyway, hands slipping down to wrap around Jeongin’s waist and hold him close.

“Can’t,” Seungmin hummed. “It’s much more fun to tell you. You get even cuter.”

Jeongin kissed him harder, pressing against him like the very act would calm the butterflies down when it, in fact, did just the opposite. It was like the sweetest torture that could ever be. Like heaven and hell colliding into a perfect little pocket of space and time just for him and he couldn’t stand it.

“You can’t say those things,” Jeongin whined between kisses.

“I can express myself all I want,” Seungmin chuckled.

“Not like that,” Jeongin pulled back.

“Yes I can,” Seungmin snorted.

A frown was pulling at Jeongin’s lips now as his frustration grew and his tone became whinier. “You can’t.”

Seungmin searched his face for a moment before his expression softened. “I can’t?”

“No,” Said Jeongin simply.

“Why not?” He asked, grinning slightly in amusement at Jeongin’s seemingly childish responses. His fingers started to work their way up Jeongin’s sides, almost tickling him.

“Because,” Jeongin squirmed in Seungmin’s grasp.

“Just because?” Seungmin quirked an eyebrow at him and smirked. “Just because, I can’t call you cute and tell you that I like you so much?”

“Yes,” Jeongin knew how whiny he sounded and that it was only making Seungmin more amused but he didn’t quite know how to stop it. All he knew is he couldn’t take much more of Seungmin’s sweet nothings. It was going to drive him completely mad. The tickling wasn’t helping either, making him start to giggle as well.

“Just because isn’t a very good reason to not say you’re really precious to me,” Seungmin said.

“Shut up!” Jeongin could feel his face burning and the butterflies fluttering and his heart breaking all at the same time as he threw a leg over Seungmin and pushed him onto his back. He grabbed the hands that had been tickling him and pinned them down to the bed next to Seungmin’s head. Seungmin gazed at him, dazed and unfocused for a moment as a blush crept up his cheeks.

“This- ah- I’m guessing this has to do with that thing you don’t want to talk about?”

Jeongin felt the pang of panic rip through his heart at just how close Seungmin was to figuring him out. He leaned down quickly as his face burned, the desperation making him more bold as he kissed Seungmin hard until he was out of breath. Seungmin returned the kisses eagerly, squirming a little under Jeongin. Something about the sudden desperation creeping into his reactions helped Jeongin’s confidence.

He pulled back just enough to see Seungmin’s face as he panted from the kisses, eyes fluttering open.

“We’re not going to talk about it,” Jeongin breathed. He rolled his hips down hard into Seungmin’s earning a groan from him. “Okay?”

Seungmin met his gaze with sweet eyes, but not in a gentle and caring way, in a desperate way. “O-Okay,” He stammered.

Satisfied, Jeongin closed the distance between them again, meeting Seungmin’s lips with a kiss. Seungmin’s lips greeted his needily as he squirmed under Jeongin, his wrists wiggling a little in Jeongin’s grasp. He was a little more pliant, so easily letting Jeongin’s tongue past his lips and moaning at the sensation. It all might have gone to Jeongin’s head were it not already full.

As his nerves slowly calmed, the shock of Seungmin’s near-revelation fading, Jeongin started to move his hips. It felt more and more natural each time he did it, feeling Seungmin’s warmth under him as he moved slowly, mind very slow to clear of stresses as his body started to enjoy the sensations, brain sluggishly catching up. Even when he gave Jeongin a myriad of butterflies something about Seungmin and his scent made him feel just a little more calm.

Jeongin shifted his hips, angling down just a little more and letting out a groan at both the way the sensation and rushes of pleasure intensified and how he could tell how quickly Seungmin was growing hard underneath him. Despite how he was enjoying being on top of Seungmin, and just how responsive Seungmin was all of a sudden, the feeling of him getting harder by the second was only serving to fill what little space was left in Jeongin’s brain with thoughts of Seungmin sinking his cock into Jeongin and fucking him positively dumb.

The thoughts sent a shiver through him that had him grinding down against Seungmin more roughly and squeezing his wrists a little tighter. He welcomed getting lost in the purely physical feelings as the thoughts in his mind slowly faded in the background, one by one. He let Seungmin’s scent, the taste of his lips, the sound of his moans, the feeling of his tongue and hips and wrists fill up his mind along with the fantasies that were becoming nearly impossible to hold back.

As Seungmin started to match his movements, rutting up with his own hips, Jeongin felt the desire to get even closer. His hands let go of Seungmin’s wrists, instead coming to steady himself as you pressed down as close to Seungmin as he could. It was inevitable; the kisses and dry humping and every damn thing about Seungmin was making him needy once again.

Seungmin’s hands slipped down to Jeongin’s waist, holding him firmly. Jeongin hummed at the contact, grinding down a little more slowly and enjoying the sensation, savouring it while Seungmin squeezed him.

He could feel it in the kisses, as his own movements showed more desperation and Seungmin seemed to recover from whatever it was that shocked him at the outset, that the dynamic was shifting. Seungmin took control of the kisses and set the pace of their hips, slowing it down and urging Jeongin to grind down on him harder and painfully slowly. He swallowed the whimpers that started to make it off of Jeongin’s lips at the arousal igniting inside of him with each movement until he tightened his grip and smoothly flipped him over. Jeongin gasped as his back hit the bed, eyes flying open to look up at Seungmin watching him as sat between Jeongin’s legs.

“Since you don’t wanna talk,” Seungmin murmured. “What do you want to do?”

Jeongin’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he tried to parse through the fantasies that had played behind his eyelids. He knew what he wanted to try but the words to say it seemed too embarrassing of an admission. He didn’t exactly have to admit to every detail of his fantasies, but still.

Seungmin tutted at him as the seconds passed. “Are you going to make me guess?”

“N-No,” Jeongin managed, face starting to burn. And then. “M-Maybe?”

Seungmin chuckled, bringing a hand up from his waist to cup Jeongin’s cheek in a way that made his heart burst as he leaned in a little closer. “Well, which one is it? No or maybe?”

Jeongin averted his eyes to look over Seungmin’s shoulder at nothing in particular. “I-I- It’s not really- It’s um-”

“Innie,” Seungmin’s voice was so gentle as he called Jeongin to meet his eye again. “Is it something new?”

Jeongin didn’t say a word. He simply clamped his lips shut and nodded.

Seungmin’s thumb smoothed over his cheek soothingly. “You don’t want to say it out loud?”

Jeongin shut his eyes as if that would somehow let him hide from his own feelings as embarrassment and shame washed up inside him. It wasn’t as if Seungmin would laugh at him or think it was weird.

He might.

Jeongin tried to hush his brain as he formed a response. “It’s- It’s a bit different. It’s new. S-So maybe you don’t- maybe you wouldn’t-”

Jeongin’s breath hitched as he felt Seungmin lean in closer, lips brushing against his own. “I’m pretty open, at least for you.” There was a light, teasing tone to his voice that did Jeongin’s heart no good. “Try me.”

“C-Can you- W-Would you-” The words were still sticking in his throat like tree sap, stuck to one another in a big heap that was nearly impossible to dislodge. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth again and felt Seungmin pull back just a little.

“Innie, look at me,” Seungmin said softly. Jeongin wondered if Seungmin knew he simply couldn’t seem to refuse him. His eyes flitted open to meet Seungmin’s. A hint of a smirk was on his lips but his eyes were warm and inviting and expectant and it was like, without even realizing, they drew the words right out of him, warming the sticky sap until it flowed.

“Will you finger me?” The words tumbled off his lips quickly and not as sweetly as they could have but Seungmin didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, the smirk was starting to spread across his lips, eyes glinting mischievously.

“Hmm, so you’ve been thinking about my fingers, then?”

You have no idea how right you are.

Jeongin shut his eyes again, this time to hide from the man who was so clearly amused by him. Was he just being flirty or did he guess that that easily? Was anything in Jeongin’s mind a secret? Could he keep even one thing hidden? He felt his face burning and he squirmed a little, even more embarrassed that Seungmin’s words sent a rush of arousal through him.

“N-No.”

Very convincing.

“Are you sure?” Seungmin leaned in, past his lips to nip at his ear. “Did this idea simply come out of thin air or have you thought about it before?”

All Jeongin could do was squirm, letting a soft whimper fall from his lips. The warm, velvet tone of Seungmin’s voice murmuring to him was only serving to make him harder all before he’d even been touched. The whole ordeal was mortifying and his hands found their way to his face, covering it in his embarrassment.

Seungmin pressed a kiss under his ear. “You poor thing.”

Jeongin weakly jabbed his knee into Seungmin’s side with a pitiful whine.

“Innie,” he hummed. “I promise I’ll be nice if you look at me.”

Jeongin spread his fingers, peeking through them at Seungmin. His smile was warm and comforting once again as his hands moved to rub Jeongin’s sides.

“I’m sorry,” He offered. “I told you you’re too cute. I can’t help myself.”

Jeongin wrinkled his nose. “Bad apology.” He muttered.

Seungmin snickered and leaned down, pressing a kiss to his burning cheek before finding his lips. He kissed Jeongin slowly, with a low burning passion that made his heart clench tightly in a horrible way. He did his best to ignore that, enjoying the kisses and helped along when Seungmin pressed the heel of his palm into the bulge in Jeongin’s sweats.

Jeongin gasped into the kisses, moans started to slip past his lips. Seungmin swallowed every last one, deepening the kisses and pressing closer to him. Jeongin did his best to follow the kisses despite the way his head was starting to spin from the sparks of pleasure. It was so simple, the movement of Seungmin’s hand, but it was quickly working him up and making him needier.

Seungmin’s free hand snuck its way under Jeongin’s shirt and his breath hitched at the gentle touch against his skin. He felt warmth spreading through him and a painful yearning in his chest at the intimate gesture. His thoughts twisted painfully at the reminder that none of this was as permanent as he wanted it to be. He’d end up back in his own bed, alone and missing Seungmin’s touch and comfort and presence every single time.

Jeongin tried to swallow the feelings down; they mixed with everything else in his stomach in an uneasy way. Despite that he didn’t want Seungmin to read into it too much, didn’t want him to stop. If Seungmin never fell in love with him at least he could have him like this.

Seungmin’s lips moved from his own and Jeongin let out a whimper in response. His eyes stayed closed as he felt Seungmin’s lips move across his jaw. His fingertips slid down Jeongin’s stomach in a way that made his breath hitch as Seungmin’s lips found home in the hollow below his ear, sucking lightly on the sensitive skin. His hips pressed up of their own volition against Seungmin’s hand and he felt Seungmin’s lips curl into a grin against his skin.

“I like having you like this so much.” An admission that would have served to make Jeongin more embarrassed if it left his lips seemed to carry confidence when it came from Seungmin’s. And rightly so since it drew a quiet whine from Jeongin’s lips. He shifted up, pressing against Seungmin’s hand again.

“You’re so sweet.”

A whimper fell off of Jeongin’s lips at Seungmin’s words. He was only falling in deeper with each word and he wished he could feel any other way than so in love and turned on from his words. If it were easy to pull away, if it were easy to not want this so badly he’d stop. He’d go back to an easy friendship and forget all of this ever happened.

If only it were that simple.

“Seungmin,” the name fell so quietly off his lips but he felt Seungmin’s lips press a lingering kiss to his neck before his answer.

“Yes?”

“C-Can you- can we…?”

Seungmin pulled back and Jeongin forced his eyes open, breath hitching at the intensity of Seungmin’s gaze, the way it was drenched in desire. Jeongin felt caught in it, like a deer transfixed in place. He swallowed hard, squirming a little underneath Seungmin and trying to resist the urge to grind up against the hand that was still against his clothed cock.

“You want to move on?” He hummed.

“I-Is that okay?”

Seungmin kissed his nose in such a sweet way that made him feel like he’d been punched in the gut. “Of course, Innie.”

Seungmin sat back on his knees, hands on Jeongin’s waist and tugged at him, coaxing him to sit up too. Jeongin would have followed anyway, Seungmin was like his sun, with his own gravitational pull just for Jeongin. He leaned in to meet Seungmin’s lips again, stealing a kiss. And then two. And then three. Seungmin didn’t seem to mind, in fact he seemed more than pleased to let Jeongin steal as many kisses as his heart desired.

When Jeongin did pull away Seungmin was giving him an easy smile with puffy, kiss-swollen lips, so tempting to steal just one more. His cheeks were a warm, rosy pick and his soft hair falling into his eyes. The soft, enticing image of him so utterly perfect and making Jeongin love him more with every passing second. Those three little words felt like they were sticking to the walls of his throat. So secure and yet so easy to dislodge. He let out a slow breath, arms still loosely hanging around Seungmin’s neck.

“Do you have any particular position you’d like, Innie?”

His voice was warm and it warmed all of Jeongin upon hearing it. He was sure his cheeks were flushing at the question as he hid his face in Seungmin’s neck, not quite sure how to answer. Did he want to admit to his preferred position of ass in the air and face smushed into his pillows. Could he even manage to say that out loud? What was the best position when it wasn’t just him? Would Seungmin find that weird, or not like it?

“U-Uh anything is okay, I-I think?” He mumbled.

Seungmin snaked a hand between them, gripping Jeongin’s chin gently and pulling his face out of hiding to look at him. “Have you done this before?”

Jeongin refused to meet his eyes, feeling the embarrassment filling him more every second and wondering if there would come a day where these kinds of things wouldn’t fluster him. “M-Maybe a couple of times.”

Seungmin chuckled, leaning in for a soft kiss before murmuring against Jeongin’s lips. “You’re so cute.” Another kiss. “Can you lay over my lap on your stomach for me, cutie?”

Jeongin wasn’t sure if it was just purely to tease him or because Seungmin liked the sound of the pet name but either way it was making his head spin. He nodded without saying a word, not trusting his own voice for a second as he did as Seungmin asked. He thought this might be the best position, able to hide in the pillows and muffle his moans and grip the sheets and not unlike what he had done himself.

It didn’t stop him from feeling shy, heart beating wildly as Seungmin’s hands ran up the backs of his thighs before hooking into the waistband of his sweats. Jeongin squirmed a little, fingers digging into the soft duvet tightly as he let out a shaky breath.

“Can I take these off?” Seungmin toyed with the soft fabric with one hand, the other rubbing Jeongin’s back. Surely it was meant to calm him but it was only making him feel more turned on.

“Mhm,” the sounds came out very high in Jeongin’s voice but he held back his whine of embarrassment. Seungmin gave his thigh a little squeeze before slowly slipping his sweats and boxers down his legs. Jeongin took in a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to quell the thoughts that were washing over him of what Seungmin might think of this part of his body he had yet to see.

“It’s unbelievable that every inch of you is so pretty, Innie.” The words fell so easily off of Seungmin’s lips, as if they didn’t make Jeongin’s heart burst like fireworks had just gone off. Jeongin couldn’t help the giggle that fell off his lips as he hid his face fully in a pillow, if for no other reason than to try and hide how warm his skin had gotten. He shook his head a little bit, trying to refuse the compliment but apparently Seungmin wasn’t having that.

“I mean it, cutie,” his fingers dragged slowly up the back of Jeongin’s thigh. “You’re just so pretty.”

Don’t let that go to your head.

It might be the only time he was in agreement with his inner thoughts, trying not to like the new pet name too much. He couldn’t get used to such things, he couldn’t let himself think it meant anything or that Seungmin meant anything by it.

He did anyway.

Seungmin reached to the side and Jeongin could hear the bedside table slide open and the closed. He bit down on his lip, trying to keep his breathing even as he heard the quiet sound of Seungmin squirting lube onto his fingers. He couldn't seem to help his nerves and excitement as butterflies fluttered their wings against the walls of his stomach.

“Just relax for me, okay?” Seungmin murmured.

“O-Okay,” the word came out choked and definitely not relaxed and Seungmin chuckled.

“You know if you’re tense I can’t do this, Innie.”

“I know that,” he muttered into the pillow.

“Can you take some deep breaths for me?”

Jeongin nodded. His breaths were a little uneven but he did his best. Seungmin ran one hand over his back soothingly while the other gently coaxed his legs apart a little more. With each breath he felt a little more tension leave his body, relaxing against Seungmin’s lap and soft bed.

“Just like that,” Seungmin hummed. “Keep taking deep breaths for me.”

Jeongin did just as he said, though his breath hitched when he felt Seungmin’s finger start to run in gentle circles around his entrance. He curled his fingers further into the duvet as a rush of arousal ran through him from the gentle touch.

“So good for me.” The reassuring words fell off of Seungmin’s lips and Jeongin shyly burrowed into the pillow a little more, muffling his whimper. He didn’t dare say anything, not trusting his voice to carry his thoughts effectively, especially as Seungmin pushed the tip of his finger inside him.

It didn’t matter that he’d done this to himself before, it didn't matter how many times he’d imagined what it could be like, something about Seungmin’s finger pushing into him, his warm legs underneath him, his hand rubbing his back made it all very different. He felt so much more sensitive and needy when it was Seungmin, even more so than in his own daydreams and it came with a fresh wave of emotions. His breathing was a little more shallow as Seungmin carefully worked his finger in deeper. He took his time, squeezing at Jeongin’s waist and keeping his movements slow.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Jeongin could only let out a whimper, a slight nod even as he couldn’t quite get a deep breath. Even with his face in the pillow he squeezed his eyes shut. The waves of pleasure from each little movement of Seungmin’s fingers just felt like so much and it had far too many feelings filling him nearly to the brim. Lovely, wonderful, horrible, confusing, and painful feelings.

“Are you sure?” Seungmin asked with so much tenderness it made Jeongin tremble a little, everything from his breath to his heart feeling uneven. Maybe it was how turned on he was and how much more sensitive he felt with Seungmin. Maybe it was his new acceptance of the love he felt. Maybe it was his own shyness and how big of a step this felt like it. Or maybe it was some mix of everything but his head and heart were full to the point of bursting that Jeongin was biting down on his lip and trying to swallow down the lump that was rapidly forming in his throat.

“Y-Yeah,” his voice was shaky and within seconds Seungmin pulled his finger away, leaving Jeongin whimpering.

“Innie, what’s wrong?” His voice was laced with concern and embarrassment started to mix with everything else inside of Jeongin, feeling as if he was overreacting to this overwhelming onslaught of emotions.

“N-Nothing,” he muttered unconvincingly. He felt Seungmin gently pushing him over and it took a few seconds before he blinked his watery eyes open to meet Seungmin’s worried ones.

“What happened?” Seungmin leaned over him, cupping his face with his clean hand. “Did I hurt you? Was it-”

Jeongin shook his head, shifting his gaze. “No n-no. J-Just- I don’t know.”

“Do you want to just cuddle for a while?” Seungmin offered but Jeongin shook his head again. He knew he wanted to do this, he wasn’t sure why he was feeling so many things all at once, unable to keep things from spilling over.

“I want- We can- I wanna do this. It’s- It’s just different when I do it alone,” he managed.

Seungmin fixed him with a soft smile. “How about a different position? Maybe you’ll feel comfortable if we’re a little closer.”

Jeongin answered with a nod, sucking in a shaky breath and trying to steady himself. Seungmin didn’t let him think about it too much before he kissed him deeply. Some of the thoughts became a little fuzzy in his mind and he was thankful for any reprieve from them.

Seungmin helped him to lay back on the bed properly before fully pulling off the sweats that had been bunched at his ankles. Seungmin settled between his legs before leaning over him and pressing another kiss to his lips. Jeongin relaxed a little more into the kisses, feeling Seungmin’s hands on his thighs before he slowly pushed his legs up towards his chest.

Jeongin gave Seungmin a wide-eyed look as he pulled back from the kiss, heart beating fast at the new position, so much more open than before, but Seungmin just kissed his nose with a grin.

“I need your legs back, Innie,” he hummed.

“I-I know that,” he muttered, thankfully at least that Seungmin was close enough that he didn’t feel too exposed.

Seungmin leaned in to kiss him again, this time lingering and deepening the kiss while adding more lube to his finger. He started to tease Jeongin again. Slowly circling his finger before pushing it in halfway and moving in shallow thrusts and slow curls. At the same time he dragged Jeongin’s bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled back from the kiss, letting a moan fall freely from Jeongin’s throat.

As he worked his finger deeper Jeongin let his eyes flutter open and immediately regretted it. Seungmin was watching him, gaze intense and a ghost of a smirk on his lips while his free hand ran gently over his chest and stomach. He was taking in every little reaction that Jeongin had and along with a rush of arousal that made his cock jump against his lower stomach a sudden shyness overtook him and he groaned, covering his face.

“Y-You can see me like this,” Jeongin mumbled.

Seungmin kissed the backs of his hands. “I could see you before.”

“Not my face.”

“This is much better,” he murmured. “I like your face.”

Jeongin peeked through his fingers, trying to fix Seungmin with a glare but sure that he didn’t quite pull it off. A grin tugged at Seungmin’s lips in response to whatever expression he’d managed as he curled his finger in a way that forced a moan from Jeongin.

“See, it’s not so bad.”

Jeongin carefully moved his hands away, biting down on his lip to try and stifle any more sounds and feeling his face burning. His eyes finally left Seungmin’s as another moan managed its way past his lips and he felt the embarrassment welling up inside of him from something so close and intimate. It was making his dizzying array of emotions all the more confusing, not helped by his brain growing sluggish from arousal and pleasure.

Jeongin did have enough wherewithal to grab at Seungmin’s shoulders, fixing a pout onto his lips as he pulled him closer. He felt barely able to form one coherent thing to say to Seungmin with the array of feelings whirling through him but he knew he wanted to feel close to him.

Seungmin obliged with ease, managing to kiss him even if Jeongin’s kisses were messy. He never seemed to mind what kind of kisses Jeongin gave him, content with whatever his lips were met with.

Jeongin desperately tried to rid his mind of that one clear thought by kissing Seungmin harder.

It seemed to work for a while at least. Seungmin’s tongue slipped past his lips and Jeongin let it in with ease and moans. He noticed Seungmin’s finger slowing but couldn’t manage to think about what that meant until he felt the slow push of two fingers into him.

His head fell back in a wanton moan as Seungmin moved his fingers shallowly. He pressed kisses to Jeongin’s cheeks as he kept his movements gentle and slow through Jeongin’s heavy breaths and arms locked around him. Pleasure coursed through him from every little movement of Seungmin’s fingers and he squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the tightening starting in the pit of his stomach.

“Is that alright, Innie?” Seungmin’s voice was far too pretty and the sound was purely dizzying. It was all Jeongin could manage to nod, biting uselessly on his bottom lip in a way that kept no sounds from escaping him.

He felt like every feeling he’d ever had was welling up inside him all at once as his pleasure rose slowly towards its peak. He couldn’t make much sense of any of the disjointed thoughts in his lust-addled brain, just that with each passing moment he felt more in every sense of the word.

And still a moan of the word “more” was falling off his lips, like they had a mind of their own, not that he disagreed. Quite the opposite in fact as Seungmin’s fingers reached deeper inside him, brushing past a spot that had his hips trying to buck up and cock jump against his stomach.

“You want more, cutie?” There was almost no teasing in Seungmin’s voice but the way he leaned in to murmur in Jeongin’s ear was only making more arousal run down his spine. He nodded desperately as his fingers dug into Seungmin’s shoulders. His whimper just barely resembled a “please” as he felt like everything in him was about to overflow. But he wouldn’t stop, nothing in the world could make him want to stop.

Seungmin shifted a little, and then Jeongin felt a hand wrapping around his cock. He let out a broken moan as his back arched off the bed, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from the amount of everything he was feeling, whole body starting to tense and hips trying to rock for more sensation in every way.

“Gonna cum for me, cutie?” Seungmin murmured and it was all Jeongin could do to nod and whimper out an affirmation at the way his high was fast approaching. His thighs tensed, stomach tight and nails digging into Seungmin’s skin as Seungmin pressed a kiss below his ear, fingers moving just a little more roughly, putting a little more pressure on the spot inside him that had him seeing stars behind his eyelids.

“Such a good boy. Can you cum for me, Innie? Please?”

Seungmin’s sweet request would have been enough to have Jeongin cumming in his pants completely untouched. It was more than enough to send him over the edge, a cry of Seungmin’s name falling from his lips as he released, feeling his cock pulsing in Seungmin’s hand as hot strings of cum landed on his lower stomach. An absolute tidal wave of pleasure crashed over him, making every inch of his body shake and were his eyes open, Seungmin would have seen them roll back as his body experienced the pure bliss he’d been given.

A soft curse left Seungmin’s lips and at the moment Jeongin didn’t manage to realize that it was because of the sight of him. He was too encompassed with the slow movements of Seungmin’s fingers, working him through the last of his high, and then the rough kiss on his lips. He didn’t register the wetness on his own cheeks from the tears that had flowed over. And he didn’t know he was saying words between the kisses. The same three words over and over like a mantra.

“I love you.”

Another kiss pressed to his lips before he’d even finished the last word, too breathy and quiet to properly hear.

“I love you.”

It was as if everything that had been hidden in his heart was tired of being in the dark. It felt like everything inside of him had released all at once.

Tears.

Cum.

And…

“I love you.”

Seungmin’s fingers stilled before pulling out of him. The words falling off of Jeongin’s lips one more time as the bed shifted and Seungmin didn’t come back down for another kiss. Only then did he blink his eyes open, still blurry from tears, confusion fogging his brain as he cleared his vision and fixed his gaze on Seungmin, eyes wide as he stared back at Jeongin.

Jeongin shakily pushed up onto his elbows, brain still too slow to understand why Seungmin was looking at him like that.

“What-” Seungmin just blinked at him. “What did you say?”

“I- I…”

As if liquid nitrogen had been shot through his veins he felt as if everything went cold. His mouth hung open with no explanation as his heart squeezed painfully in his chest while his own words caught up to him.

Stupid! How could you be so stupid!?

The tears welled up quickly in Jeongin’s eyes, mouth clamping shut and bottom lip quivered. No smile, no laugh, not even an awkward joke. Almost no reaction at all to his words other than shock from the man sitting over him. Jeongin shifted away from Seungmin quickly, dropping his gaze. He couldn’t burst into tears. Not now. Not after that.

Such an idiot! How hard is it to keep your mouth shut?! How did you manage to fuck it up this badly?!

“Jeongin…” Seungmin’s tone was… apologetic? Confused? Upset? Jeongin couldn’t tell but he didn’t want to dwell on it. As fast as he could manage he rolled off the bed and grabbed his sweats. He didn’t care about the cum dripping down his stomach and onto his thighs, he could clean it up later. He just needed to get the fuck out of this room. “Jeongin, hold on-”

“Sorry.” He said it quickly, keeping his eyes trained on the floor and far too scared to look at Seungmin, lest his expression be even worse than what he’d already seen. Maybe anger. Maybe disgust. Maybe pity.

“Innie, just-”

“I’m really sorry.” He could hear his own voice breaking as he crossed the room to the door. “Just- Just- sorry.”

He ignored the way Seungmin called after him, his fear carrying him down the hallway and to his room as fast as he could run, far too scared of Seungmin’s reaction to stay any longer, in far too much pain to bear another second. His tears spilled over finally as he slammed his door shut, sliding down it and crumpling into a heap on the floor, humiliated, heart broken sobs wracking his body.

#oops i made it real sad #i promise itll get better #but it had to hurt first #in imgines #in smut #jeongin imagines #jeongin smut #yang jeongin smut #seungmin imagines #seungmin smut #kim seungmin smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #stray kids angst

69 notes · View notes

lost-between-letters · 1 year

Text

Study Sessionus Interruptus

Requested by: @lelapine

Pairing: stanford!Sam Winchester X Reader (she/they)

Word Count: 888

Summary: studying. Y/N's current life summed up in exactly one word. Luckily there is also Sam who makes sure that they don't get too lost in it

Beta: the lovely @fallingintolife thank you so much!

A/N: … you still remember me? I am so sorry for letting this sit so long, the request is literally from September last year (when i originally deleted all requests because i was overwhelmed. But this one was already started and i finally finished it). Hope you still enjoy

Her eyes were burning and the words were dancing. With a sigh, Y/N grabbed the book tighter and forced themself to absorb the meaning of the text.

Something about literature of the 13th century, then the author... Her stomach was growling.

Shit. She had forgotten to take notes. There was a pencil somewhere on this table, Y/N was pretty sure of that. Yawning, they stretched until their fingers met something remotely close to pen-size. Should work.

Only for it to reveal itself as the rolled up paper she had been playing with three hours ago. Dammit.

"Are you still studying?"

Y/N jumped in her seat. She hadn't heard Sam approaching, much less him leaning up against the wall next to their desk.

At their lack of answer, Sam merely sighed. "Baby, we talked about this."

"Just one more paper and I'm done." They shrugged guiltily and subtly scanned the desk for an actual pen. If they could just finish that one thing-

But Sam was already shaking his head. "Nope."

"What?"

"You're overworking yourself, Y/N," he stated and leaned over to spin her chair to face him, "and I'm stopping you now before it gets worse."

"I'm not-" they interrupted themself. Yeah okay, maybe she was stressing a little too much already. Didn't make the mountain of homework shrink out of existence though.

Not that he cared. Sam crossed his arms and gave them his best I'm-not-mad-only-disappointed-look. It was scary how good he was at that one.

"Okay maybe I could take a break," she amended to which Sam's expression immediately brightened up.

"Great! Let's get you some food."

He got up from his crouch in front of them and held out his hand. Y/N took it wearily.

On the one hand, the mention of food had their stomach pitifully whining but on the other hand, they really needed to finish that essay…

But food.

And Sam.

"Just a snack please. I don't have time for a full blown meal." she requested and attempted to grab the papers and her pen to take with her to the kitchen.

Sam sighed.

"If you promise to leave all your things in this room," he amended, a pointed look towards their full hands accompanying the words.

"But-"

"Babe, your brain will melt if you keep this up."

He was kind of right. Unfortunately.

Now Y/N sighed. Oh, she hated it when he was right.

"Fifteen minutes. Not more."

Sam rolled his eyes and started walking the short distance to the kitchen. "You're impossible."

"Passing all my classes is impossible," Y/N said dryly and went for the pantry.

Only to be pulled back by their waist and picked up. Y/N squealed in surprise as Sam sat her down on the counter. His glare didn't match the soft grip he had on her hips.

"Don't."

"What?" They asked and glared back. Two could play this game.

Sam dropped his forehead against theirs unexpectedly and Y/N caught themself just short of flinching back. Their head was starting to spin from all the mood changes she was witnessing.

"You will pass all your classes," Sam said with so much conviction that Y/N almost believed him.

Almost. So she chuckled a little uneasily and pulled back. "Yeah and the man on the moon is going to come to my graduation ceremony."

"I'm sure Dean can arrange something," Sam mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing," he waved off, "but seriously, you will. And d'you know why I know that?"

"Because you're so in love with me it makes you stupid?"

Sam snorted. "Yeah that too."

Y/N did her best to fight the blush. She had the sneaking suspicion that it wasn't working. But she was also a sucker for praise so she kept needling him, "Why do you think that I'll pass all my classes, Romeo?"

"Because I know that you're smart and hard working. You'll be stressing over every detail but in the end you'll get it perfect," he shrugged as if he was just stating facts, "I'm just here to make sure that you don't run yourself into the ground while doing that."

"... you said something about food?"

Sam laughed loudly and buried his face in her neck. "You're cute when you're flustered. Pancakes coming right up!"

So Y/N busied themself with fighting off the blush and Sam busied himself with starting the batter. Pans were clattering as he rooted through their cupboards to find the ingredients he needed and he turned to do a little apologetic shrug at a particularly loud noise. She giggled, almost against her will and just stopped herself from reaching over and dragging him into a kiss. It was domestic and Y/N kind of never wanted to leave this moment.

Twenty minutes later they were cozied up under a mountain of blankets, Sam tugged into their side with his head resting on top of their chest.

Y/N was so tired that she almost forgot about the paper.

Almost.

Not that Sam was having any of that. Before she even could think of getting up, he wrapped his freakishly long arms around her waist and pulled tight. "No."

"No?" They repeated amused.

Sam nodded. "No. We're sleeping now."

Y/N couldn’t argue with that. And she didn't really want to.

Sam Taglist: @tiggytaylor, @danzalladaggers, @lelapine, @baby-banana , @borhapparker, @maddiebwrites , @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes , @AlohaStitch0626, @jayheartswritting, @cinderellacauseshebroke @winnifredburkleismyhero , @xoxokiaraaxoxo @theslawstee @thecubanator2 @i-pray-to-cas

Join a Taglist

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam x you #sam x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction

93 notes · View notes

atsadi-shenanigans · 4 months

Text

Feeding Alligators 17 - Panties!

You and Gale chat about linguistics. Astarion has elf ears and thus, elf hearing. Ruh-roh.

Rated M for language and violence. Still not for smut, because when I said this was a slow burn, I meant it and also Eleanor is demisexual, so does not compute for her (yet).

On AO3.

You don’t make it much further before calling quits. Between your horror vomiting, Lae’zel’s brush with acid, and the rest of the party being generally wrung out from killing a wholeass owlbear, y’all are beat.

Camp is in a pretty, little clearing just off the trail. The grass is soft—and joyously free of ticks—with patches of pretty, yellow flowers. It’s a clear night; the moon is a great, big silver plate, and the spray of unfamiliar stars overhead shine bright and crystalline.

While Lae’zel scrapes the brains out of the skull of the owlbear, the others hunker down for a good and proper soup. It’s mostly vegetables, with sliced sausages, and you’re so, so fucking thankful Gale kept spices in his magical go bag. More than salt and pepper, too. You’re picking up traces of chili powder, paprika, and even a taste of cumin, you think. Not bad at all.

After your meal, y’all sit around for a bit. Astarion returns from scouting and takes his bowl back to his tent. Mr. Fancypants doesn’t like eating with commoners. It’s the first night everyone’s free, not working on spells or meditating or sulking alone. But the mood is still heavy and subdued.

Fucking cults will do that.

You wonder if your group’d listen to White people ghost stories—the Cherokee ones you do not tell at night out in the open.

You kick back and stare at the red line dancing around the edges of the embers.

Your stomach is still sore; throat still scratchy. And your headache is a constant grind. Must be the brainworm chewing on your gray-meats. The others hide their own discomfort pretty good—though that might just be the whole “not human” thing. Except Gale is human. Does he have wizard ibuprofen?

You stare into the fire some more and resist the urge to palm your right eye and press until you see sparkles.

The next thing you know, everyone has moved around the fire.

You sit up. Look around. Shadowheart and Lae’zel are arguing over the importance of keeping trophies (which Shadowheart dismisses as barbaric nonsense). Astarion is now standing outside his tent with a book propped open on one arm. You literally blinked and they all moved. What the fu—

“Are you alright?” Gale says. He was opposite you on the whole other side of the fire. Now he leans on the same fallen log you rest against with his own book sitting in his lap.

“I,” you say. You lost time. You completely lost, at minimum, several minutes. You try to breathe normal, instead of panting like a sick dog. “Yeah. I just…zoned out pretty good right there.”

Gale frowns. “’Zone?’ How would you use area as a verb?”

God, your head hurts.

You flap a hand. “Means I wasn’t paying attention, is all. D’you, you got anything for a headache? The stress has got my neck wound so tight it could crack a walnut.”

“Mmm, I don’t think so. Shadowheart may have an easier time of it. Are you…?”

He pauses. There’s more than confusion etched into his brow. It looks suspiciously like concern.

“Are you having any other symptoms?” he says in a low voice.

You look at him until it clicks. The whole face melting thing. All the stuff he’s described.

“No, no,” you say. “I don’t think it’s any of that. I woke up with this back on the butthole—I mean, the nautiloid.”

But his eyebrows have already shot up to his hairline. “The what? I’m not sure that translated accurately.”

Oh shit.

You groan. “No, it probably did. It’s what I been calling the nautiloid, before I learned its name. The doors on there looked like, well, buttholes. So I just went with it.”

His mouth opens. No words come out. You’ve shocked Mr. Verbose into silence. You almost give yourself a high five.

“I named all you’uns,” you continue, a bit more of Uncle Randy’s vernacular slipping in. It feels nice, letting your tongue slide back into that cadence. Feels like relaxing. Once you’d moved away, you tried to soften your country accent, fold it up into neat, shortened northern.

“I can only hope it was more sophisticated than your naming convention for the ship,” Gale says.

“You were mumu.” You wait. His expression doesn’t change, so the dirt potion must not’ve had a decent replacement for that. So you explain it, and by the end, he’s got a wry sort of smile.

“I can state with full confidence I’ve been called much worse,” Gale says. “Though it is a slight blow to my ego that I couldn’t impress any of my more noteworthy traits over my wardrobe.”

“It was either that or mullet.”

Having explained that, he proceeds to quiz you on the others, stumbling only over “goth.” But educated on that, he agrees with you on all counts.

“We’d been calling you Tav,” he says. At your blank face, “It’s a name used for orphans or someone whose name isn’t known, usually due to illness or injury. Quite common.”

Tav. It’s…their version of Jane Doe?

Then Gale’s face twists up. You can’t tell if it’s some flavor of perplexed, or if there’s a hint of amusement around his eyes. “Though I am curious how you’d gotten a glimpse at Astarion’s pants?”

You stare. Twist to find Astarion lounging on a nest of pillows he’s somehow managed to collect—he stole them from the tieflings, didn’t he.

“He’s wearing them?” you say and gesture with your thumb.

Gale’s whole face opens in surprise (relief?). “Ah! Another translation quirk. We call the outer garments trousers. The inner clothing is called pants, or smallclothes.”

You sit there. He’s definitely amused, now. Because you’ve been calling Astarion ‘Fancy Underwear.’ Good god. You’re so glad you figured that one out with Gale.

“Right,” you say. Your face definitely doesn’t feel warm. Not at all.

“Apologies for the distraction, and back to your headache. So you have no other symptoms.”

“I mean.” You gesture to your face, which as far as you can tell by touch is still your face. Goddamn, you haven’t had a proper bath in days. At least y’all are camped next to a stream; you can keep on dunking yourself as best you can. Still, no moisturizer or shampoo. Your elbows are getting rough.

“It’s all rather odd,” Gale says. “We should be halfway through the gestational process, yet none of us—aside from possibly you—have shown any sign of it. Either your being from a different plane has made you more susceptible, or our own physiology has shielded the rest of us. But Lae’zel isn’t a local, either, and even you aren’t following the standard process, as I understand it.”

He studies you a long moment. His lips press thin. But then he sighs and shakes his head.

“No, I don’t think you alone are going through the melt-change-condition.” You catch the vague shape of the actual word he uses behind the magical translation, but can’t suss it out. “I think it safe to assume this is merely the stress from all of this. I would suggest you find a way to relax, but, well.”

Lae’zel has finished both her scraping and her argument. She settles down next to a big, stone wheel that starts to spin as her foot taps a pedal. You watch, curiously, until she lifts her brains-scraping knife and you realize that sumbitch is a fucking grinder.

The noise shoots right through your eyeball to lodge deep in your aching brain.

“Nice talk, Gale, I’m getting out of here,” you say.

He winces next to you. Nods. “I’ll retire to my tent and see if I can’t come up with something in my stores to help with that ache of yours. In your head. That you mentioned.”

He rolls to his feet super spry for someone with gray streaks in his hair. He gives a little bow with his head, which you return with a nod as you make your way to the opposite side of the camp from Lae’zel.

Which happens to be where Astarion has set himself up for the night. Almost like he didn’t want to be around someone scooping out a dead owlbear head.

He glances up as you near. Watches you sink down into the grass nearby. You pause for a moment, considering, and flop onto your back in a full sprawl beneath the stars.

You don’t say anything. Neither does he, for a long moment. He flips a page. The pounding in your brain begins to unclench. Turns another page.

“So,” he says in a fucking tone.

“Oh god,” you say preemptively.

“You think my pants are fancy?”

Fucking elf ears. Of course he fucking heard you. Of fucking course.

You cover your face with one arm. “Would you stop if I said it was a mistranslation and I meant your trousers?”

“Whyever would I do that?”

Whyever would he. The man is a fucking menace.

Thing is, you’ve been so polite and quiet this whole time (until today, really). But Mother and the other leadership saw something in you, even as a child. And they weren’t exactly wrong about it (just the part where it was bad bad sinful bad the devil shame shame bad).

You turn to squint at him through the throbbing in your skull. “Are they?”

“Are what, dear?”

“Your underwear. Are they fancy?”

Bitch doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. He wants to give some, he better be able to take some.

You almost miss his hesitation, it’s so fast. Then his malicious smirk is back on and he snaps his book shut. Spins to face you. “They are, actually. I would ask the same of you, but I’m rather sure you’re not wearing any.”

“Nope,” you say, popping the “p” and waggling your legs back and forth in the grass. Outbrazen that, chucklefuck.

His mask doesn’t even crack. Not a flinch, not a micro expression; the man is stone cold fucking with you. “Are those not a norm in your realm, either?”

“Oh, they are, I just didn’t have them on me when I got grabbed.” Let him wonder about that. Dare him to fucking ask. The reason is you were asleep, but he doesn’t know that. “Unless we find some kinda clothing store soon, I think I’m gonna have to make some myself.”

He leans forward to rest an elbow on his bent knee. “I could help you with that, you know.”

You…can’t tell if he’s being serious.

“I ain’t wearing your drawers, fancy man. You only got the one pair anyway, unless you’re walk around with spares in your pockets.”

To this, he grimaces. “I didn’t need the reminder. All the material we’ve come across has been roughspun, mildewed, or both. Not a scrap of silk to be seen anywhere.”

You turn your head to frown at him for a long moment. Because yeah, that tracks. Of course this floof-haired, ridiculous city man wears silk drawers. You should not be so surprised at this. But also…

“You expecting to find you some silk out here in the boonies?” you say.

Now it’s his turn to frown. You watch his lips form the word “boonies.”

“Outside the city,” you say. “Back woods, back water, the sticks, wilderness, middle of fucking nowhere.”

“Hmm. No, I suppose I didn’t. People travel through here, but not the sort to own any apparel worth salvaging, would they? No, you’re correct.”

You say nothing to that. Content to lie beneath the moon and let the conversation about y’all’s panties die a quiet, natural death.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch his head tilt. He’s watching you.

“That was a clever little plan, back there,” he says after a moment. “I dare say, you thought further ahead than any of the others regarding those cultists. And regarding how to deal with them. It was very clean—efficient, even if their deaths were very much not. It’s a shame you had to leave us so quickly back in that den.”

To vomit.

You’re not gonna out-edgey the edgelord here. Simpler to go for the boring answers. “Ain’t used to seeing something like that. Horror is a normal response to people getting torn up back where I come from.”

“Mmm. Sounds terribly dull. And yet, for someone so inexperienced,” he makes some gesture that either their version of air quotes or him just being a theater kid, “you came to that conclusion quickly and you saw it through. Against some objections, even.”

Objections from half of them. Or only Gale, really, as the only part Lae’zel hadn’t liked was the sneak factor. She seemed pleased as punch when then owlbear turned on y’all and she got to hack it to pieces.

And Gale got over it all well enough to come hang out with you at camp.

These fucking people.

And goddamnit, you’re fitting in.

You find him with his chin propped up, his gaze fixed on you.

“I have never, in my life, had to deal with this kinda shit before,” you say. “I’m just…getting ideas as we go along and trying not to die.”

“Quite vicious ideas.”

Your neck is hot. You turn away, point your face at the sky as if the cold starlight will chill the head building over your cheeks.

He’s not wrong. You have a ruthless streak, you know. Part of your whole healing process was recognizing and accepting that part of yourself. And you had. And now, you wonder if that is part of the problem. If you hadn’t just gone down into your mental basement to feed the monsters there, but you’d pulled up that cellar door and leapt in yourself.

You feel guilt, for sure. But you already know you’d do it again. You’d put up that ruthless streak in a shoebox and set it up on a tall shelf in a back closet in your brain. But now you went and you opened that up, and it’s working for you. It’s a tool and a weapon, and it might be your best shot at surviving all this.

“Your ideas got you out of that crash,” Astarion says. “They kept you with all of us, saved you from that bandit, and effectively took control of our little band of miscreants.”

“What? I’m not—”

You didn’t take control. Did you? They went along with one horrible idea. Or two, actually, with Kahga. Except there were several ideas involved in that—

You’re not the leader.

You’re not.

“And even now, that mind of yours is plotting out our continued survival, isn’t it?” he says. “You might be a useful person to know.”

“Well thank you, darlin,’” you drawl.

He makes a sound that forces your attention back to him. You catch his eyebrows raised, eyes round. The laugh is more of a snort, and he seems as surprised at it as he does at…whatever caused it.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

“That’s just a saying,” you start.

But he’s already waving it off. “Not to worry. I believe I’ll leave you to your little respite away from that cacophony. Take a walk and get some air, myself.”

Oh shit, you weirded him out. It’s just a phrase. Old, southern ladies you’ve never met call you “sugar” and “honey” all the time.

He stands. Sweeps the wrinkles out of his clothes—mostly his silly, frilly shirt. Then he gives you some ridiculous, over-the-top, one-arm-in-the-air courtly bow. “Do sleep tight, darling.”

He wanders off. The wind hisses in the trees. Lae’zel’s grinder screeches like a thousand souls of the damned, and your brain worm nibbles contentedly at a piece of your pre-frontal cortex.

“Jesus christ,” you say and roll over to lie face down in the grass.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 #fanfic #astarion #astarion x tav #it's a goddamn isekai #i'm not sorry #no betas we die like men #feeding alligators fic #tavstarion #plus size tav #demisexual tav

15 notes · View notes

grumelot123 · 1 month

Text

Part 17 of "I'm trying so hard to hate you."

Lets get into itttt

Short chapter, but uh ANGST WARNING!

(yea that's what you're about to read)

Crowley pov bc yea

We drove home in silence, Aziraphale kept drifting in and out of sleep. In the background I had queen playing quietly, not worried about it bothering my Angel but just so I could hear my own thoughts.

I know we weren't supposed to be worried about this whole Armageddon thing till tomorrow but it was still rolling throughout my brain. Like what if I end up losing my Angel? Or if we don't get to see each other again?

No. Right now, I'm thinking about tonight and tonight only.

I pulled up to the bookshop to see no lights on whatsoever so I'm guessing Muriel was off with Maggie and Nina.

Perfect. So me and Aziraphale have the place to ourselves tonight.

I got out of the car and grabbed everything out and brought it inside. Turned on the lights, and started some tea for me and Aziraphale.

He's making me go soft.

After doing all of that I went outside to go wake him up.

"Aziraphale." I tapped his arm.

He started to stir awake.

"Hmm?" He looked up at me with those sleepy eyes.

"We're home."

He laughed. "Home? Thought this was my bookshop?"

"For fucks sake Angel, I might as well live here too. I mean I did while you were go-"

He got out of the car and kissed me.

"We aren't talking about anything sad tonight, yea?"

"Yessss sirrr."

Did I really just say sir? I know he can tell somethings off.

"Sir?"

"Nothinggggg."

He gave me a confused look, but walked past me and headed inside. I followed.

"Are you making tea dear?"

"Yep!"

He smiled at me, with that warm smile of his. The smile I could just melt into.

He walked towards me and put his hand up to my cheek.

"Thank you."

"For what? Doing my job?"

"It's not your job to take car of me Crowley."

"We're dating, of course it is. And there's no way to stop me."

"Hmm, ok. If you say so."

He walked towards a desk and grabbed a book, then sat down on the couch.

We were back into a routine things, sitting in silence, talking, then me going home. But now? It's different. We are dating. I can stay for as long as I want too. I don't have to watch what I say or think because now he can just listen freely. Because now we have us. Just us.

But maybe not this time. What happens next? Well spoiler alert, I fucked up.

I walked over and sat by him.

"What happens if this all fails?!" I blurted out.

"I thought we weren't talking about anything sad?"

"Yea yea sorry..."

"No, I understand you're worried about this Crowley. I want you to talk to me and express your feelings, so...why do you think this is gonna fail?" He seems genuinely concerned like he wanted to hear what I thought.

So? I told him all of it. Everything. How I was worried he might choose Heaven over me. How I didn't think he'd love me anymore after this. And..since I had to go fuck everything up I even started my concerns on how maybe he just thinks he loves me because the worlds going to end.

Fuck.

"What?"

"Aziraphale I didn't mean it I just wasn't thinki-"

"Exactly! You weren't thinking! Why would you even say that stuff? That I just love you because the worlds ending?! That I'd just choose Heaven over you?! I promised you that I wouldn't let Heaven come between us every again, and I've done a pretty damn good job at it haven't I?!"

"Well I-"

"No. I don't want to hear it. I'm hurt, I'm tired, mentally and physically exhausted. I cant do this right now, at all. I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

"Well that's not fair Aziraphale?!"

"This isn't fair? How. No seriously Crowley. How the 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸? Is this not fair to you?!"

He started crying. Looking at the ground, refusing to even turn towards me.

"Aziraphale I'm s-"

"Don't."

He walked upstairs.

Fuck.

What have I done?

so sorry for the angst, dw I'm already writing a make-up chapter

thoughts?

#good omens #good omens angst #screaming crying throwing up #sorry guys

5 notes · View notes

summercourtship · 4 months

Text

stay to burn (only to drown instead): chapter seven: enigmatology [part I]

masterpost | ao3 link

jonathan crane x reader; bruce wayne x reader; edward nashton x reader | warnings: canon typical violence, sexual content | word count: 5969 words

DISCLAIMER: these chapters are not meant to be read alone. not every chapter has content for one of the three pairings listed. this is an ongoing fanfiction that I am cross-posting here on tumblr, not a series of one-shots.

chapter one |previous part

You stared at the words in your textbook, the information on the burning of Richmond in 1865 not absorbing into your brain. Of course it wasn’t, the ambience of Arkham Asylum wasn’t exactly conducive to good studying. Someone was yelling in the distance, screaming nonsense in rhymes. You sighed, closing your book. Tetch was clearly agitated and you’re pretty sure you knew the reason why.

At that moment, Jonathan rounded the corner, a file folder tucked under his arm. Despite his previous patient’s obvious distress, he didn’t seem to be frazzled at all. You supposed his inability to be shaken up was why he was a good psychiatrist for the asylum. Even if it was unnerving at times.

“Do you purposely antagonize your patients?” You placed the book aside, standing up behind your desk as he entered the small room that led to his and another of the doctor’s offices. You had only met the other doctor, a physician named Dr. Karlsson, briefly but had quickly decided that she was much nicer than any of the other doctors or nurses you’d met. But she was rarely in her office when you were in the asylum, too busy attending to her patients, making sure they were getting the care they needed. It was more than any of the other doctors seemed to do.

“Not on purpose, no.”

“I see.” You smiled, even though you knew that his disinterest should unnerve you. But you couldn’t help the small smile that crossed your lips whenever you saw him.

You’d been at Arkham for little over two weeks, working an average of twenty hours per week. That, combined with the bi-weekly stipend you got from your TA position, was enough to hold you over, to pay your rent and get groceries with little left for anything else. When the semester was over, you told Jonathan, you would move to working full-time. Just for the summer, and just so you could save up some money in case everything went to shit again.

But better than the improved pay or the steady hours (with none at night, either) was being able to continue working closely with Jonathan. You didn’t have to worry anymore about what would happen when the semester was over and you were no longer his teaching assistant, if your relationship would fizzle out without it. You could continue to smile at him everyday and long for the day when he would return it with his own.

You were well aware that your feelings for him were slowly morphing into something else. You'd spent too many nights alone and unable to sleep because all you could think about was Jonathan Crane- his eyes, his touch, his ability to make you feel like it was just the two of you who mattered in the world. Your thoughts lingered on how, to everyone else, he was a cold professional but to you he was everything. You saw brief glimpses of kindness from him, in the way he always got you coffee or whispered words of pure desire against your skin late at night. Even though he was still cold with you, you couldn’t help but hope that he was slowly melting for you.

You resisted naming the emotion coursing through your veins though, or even fully, truly admitting it to yourself. The moment you let the words I love him enter your mind was the moment that everything would come crashing down around you. You were certain of it.

Because when you started to let yourself think about telling him that, you were gripped with the sudden fear that he didn’t reciprocate. (Because of course he didn’t). That he would laugh at you, or worse be disgusted. (Because of course he would). You were afraid of being branded a fool for reading far too into what could just be a casual fling for him. (Because of course you were).

Besides, you weren’t even sure that’s what you were feeling. You’d never been with someone like this, in a relationship that you had no idea how to define. And more than that, how do you define a relationship where half the time you felt like you were blindfolded, being led deeper into a tunnel where you didn’t know the end? That he was constantly siphoning information from you and giving little in return?

And what do you call it when you’ve started to like it? When you can see everything that should make you run but it instead makes you creep closer because some part of you needs to know what happens next?

“Papers?” You cleared your throat, holding out a hand for the folder. You accepted Tetch’s file as he handed it to you, a thick thing that was bulging with post-its and other scraps of paper. You peeked into it before shutting it again, putting it down on the desk gently so as to not disrupt the papers inside.

“This-” You gestured to the folder, “is very disorganized.”

The same could be said for each and every patient at Arkham’s folder and it was clear that the turnover rate of psychiatrists was high due to the variation in handwriting and note-taking styles present in each one.

“The whole asylum is.”

“Why don’t you try to fix it?”

“I’m just a doctor.”

You sighed. You knew that Jonathan held more sway at the hospital than he liked to admit, for whatever reason. But you weren’t going to press it, instead dragging the folder across your desk closer to you.

“I can try to digitize-”

Jonathan brushed past your desk, interrupting your quiet question as papers ruffled in the breeze he created. A stray post-it note flew out from the file, landing on the floor. You bent down to pick it up, only for Jonathan’s pale hand to beat you to it. He snatched the note up, looking at it briefly before crushing it in his fist, the faded yellow folding into a small ball.

Seeing your curious gaze, he shrugged.

“It was unimportant.” He tossed the ball in your waste-basket, the soft sound of it hitting the plastic bag inside following the end of his statement. You drum your fingers on the top of Tetch’s file.

“Can I at least organize the file before I give it back to you?”

Jonathan pursed his lips slightly, clearly thinking about it.

“What else are you doing today?”

“Nothing. Well, unless you need something.” You kept your voice even, void of innuendo.

“That’s fine.” He paused, turning back to you from the doorway of his office. “And I‘ll think about letting you digitize them.”

Surprised but not displeased by his decision, you nodded enthusiastically even though you knew that he wasn’t able to see, the door already clicking closed behind him. Sitting back at your desk, you opened Tetch’s file again, taking a deeper look at his information. Taking a sip of the coffee that Jonathan had gotten you- which was, again, not your usual order but he seemed determined to push you to try new things by getting you a different order every time- you pushed down the nerves that hovered around the back of your mind. You had work to do and didn’t have time to waste by focusing on your unprompted anxiety.

It was probably just a side effect of working here, nothing else.

You stared up at the chalk menu of the small cafe, mulling over their iced seasonal offerings before ultimately deciding to go with the safe option. Ordering was quick, the barista clearly experienced and well-into his shift, moving with practiced ease behind the counter as he rang you up and began to prepare your order. Stepping back from the register, you observed as he made your drink. Briefly, you turned to look behind you at your table, at your friend.

Marie sat at a booth, concentrating on something on her phone. Her own tea was already half-empty as she had arrived at the cafe ahead of you, ordering well before you’d arrived. She looked essentially the same as when you’d seen her last, her dark hair in twin braids down her back, wearing a practical yet fashionable outfit that painted her as a responsible and matured college senior. In comparison to your outfit- comfortable pants and an oversized t-shirt- that told the world you were too stressed out or tired to care about your outward appearance. Which was correct, but you couldn’t help but feel lesser than when you looked at her, like you were behind in a race you didn’t know you were running.

The barista called your name, and on your way back to your seat you took a sip of your coffee, your usual order that you hadn’t tasted in weeks since Jonathan was always getting you your coffee now. You wove through the tables crowding the small cafe, doing your best to get back to your seat without spilling or knocking into anything. When you reached your table, you slid back into your seat, placing your phone face down to the table.

“So… Dr. Crane?” Marie leaned towards you, her eyebrow raised. Nervously, you laughed, wondering if you were going to start regretting letting her know about your illicit affair (her words, not yours).

“Is it bad?”

“Eh, Bridgit’s dating someone who frequents the Iceberg Lounge, if you know what I mean.” Marie wiggled her eyebrows, taking a sip of her tea before clearing her throat. A deep pang of loneliness echoed through your heart at hearing she was still friends with your old group. Of course she was, why wouldn’t she be? You were the one who pushed them away. “So I apologize that dating your professor isn’t as impressive.”

It had taken you two phone conversations with her to finally admit that you were, in one way or another, involved with Jonathan. You knew that you hadn’t done the best job of describing your relationship if Marie had simply boiled it down to “dating”. But how else were you supposed to concisely describe a relationship like the one that you had with him if you couldn’t even explain it to yourself?

Well, we have sex frequently, he has found his way into every aspect of my life, but I think if I was to imply I cared about him in any meaningful capacity it would ruin everything.

“I don’t think we’re technically dating-”

“Okay, well whatever. My point stands.” Her smile faltered, a look of concern flitting across her features. “I just hope you know what you’re doing. His RateMyProfessor score isn’t too great.”

You gave her an incredulous look, though you’re not sure if your disbelief came from her looking him up in the first place or from her trusting RateMyProfessor as a way to gauge someone’s quality as a romantic partner.

“You looked him up? When?”

“When you went to order.” She said it casually and you supposed she equated it to going through someone’s Instagram or Twitter to determine their validity as a boyfriend.

You held back a sigh. How can you defend him to your friend when you don’t even disagree with some of the complaints people have about him? Yes, he’s harsh, yes, he doesn’t simplify things for easier understanding, yes, he only gives you two absences and docks points if you don’t show up after that. But, for you, these weren’t necessarily bad things. Just hard to justify in front of someone who seems to want to see him as a villain.

“He’s a good professor, he just doesn’t coddle his students.”

“Like he coddles you?” She laughed, and it was much easier to just laugh along rather than point out that your experience with Jonathan Crane has not been very coddling.

No, every conversation with Jonathan was like he was picking your brain for something, like he had you figured out and was waiting for you to catch up.

“And because of him you’re working down at that insane asylum?” She took another sip of her tea.

“The psychiatric hospital, yes.” You corrected, nodding anyway as she spoke.

“The one with criminals?”

“Yes.” Immediately, you knew where she was going with this line of questioning. Neither of you brought him up, but his shadow hung over your conversations, the unspoken force that had caused your friendship to drift apart for over a year.

“The one where the-”

“Yes.”

Marie is silent, her eyebrows pinched and her eyes crinkled in worry.

“Oh. Is that smart, you know, for you? What if you have to see him?”

“Well, I’ve already met him so-” You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth.

“Hold on- you met him? Like, you had a conversation with him or you just saw him across the building?”

Both, technically. But only one was actually interesting enough to tell her about.

“I’ve spoken with him.” You bit your lip, debating if you should tell her what he had revealed to you when you’d spoken- that you and Marie had, in fact, briefly met him at the mayor’s funeral. Then you thought about how she would take the news that he had remembered you well enough to recognize you and comment on it.

He’s obsessed, don’t talk to him anymore! You don’t want a guy like that interested in you. She’d say something like that, on the verge of telling you to quit your job.

And you would sigh, roll your eyes, and say: It’s not like I purposefully sought him out. But he’s not obsessed, he just remembers things. Even though you yourself weren’t quite sure how well that particular excuse holds up, even after Jonathan told you about it himself. Because he could very well have made that up to ease your discomfort.

On the other hand, Jonathan hardly ever lied to make you feel better.

“And?” Marie was watching you expectantly. “What was that conversation like?”

“Uninteresting.” The lie slipped off your tongue easily. You realized as you spoke that you felt very much the same way about Edward as you had about meeting the Batman. That it was a secret you didn’t want anyone to be privy to. “He didn’t say anything important. Unnerving, sure. Important? No.”

You knew she didn’t buy your lie when she pursed her lips into a small pout but you were saved from further questioning by her phone ringing. Tearing her eyes away from you, she groaned and made a comment about it being her boss before she got up and went to step outside to take the call.

You released a breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding, staring into your coffee cup. Of course, Marie would come back and immediately begin questioning you again, trying to pry information about Edward from you. But at least her phone call had granted you a few minutes of relief, a brief respite for you to figure out how to continue avoiding her questions.

Picking your phone up, you swiped it open, ignoring the fact that you once again had no notifications. You never did, considering you stopped posting to social media after Gotham Square Garden and had essentially cut out everyone but your own parents. But even with them, you’d grown distant and had only recently started trying to mend your relationship.

It was a spur of the moment decision to reach out to Marie, but it was one that you were glad for. And you were not going to admit to her that the person who had lit the desire to reach out to her in the first place was the god-damn Riddler.

Absently, you checked your email, scrolling past too-enthusiastic promotional emails from companies you didn’t buy from anymore, heart stopping when you saw an email from the internship coordinator of Wayne Enterprises.

“Oh my god.”

Here it was, the rejection you knew was coming. With a hand over your mouth, you began reading, your eyes scanning the text of the email rapidly, ready to read the fake apologies of a corporation that deemed you unworthy to work for them.

Dear applicant, After reading over your submitted documents for the Solomon Wayne Archival Internship we have decided to move your application forward.

Please respond letting us know when you are available to interview on any of the following dates…

The short email ended with a series of dates and times and subsequent congratulations.

“What happened?” Marie was back from outside, sliding into the booth with ease. Worry pinched her face again, but it immediately disappeared as soon as you put your hand down to reveal your smile.

“I got an interview at Wayne Enterprises!”

Her mouth dropped open in surprise before morphing into a smile wider than your own.

“What?! When?”

“I’ll have to choose a time but it’s sometime next week.” Oh my god. Oh my god.

“That’s awesome!” She seemed genuinely happy for you, and it was like you’d never pushed her away, like you’d stayed friends for the past year.

But more importantly, the news had taken her mind away from the Riddler and you weren’t going to bring the conversation back to him, or Jonathan, or your job at Arkham. Instead, you spent the last half-hour of your coffee date asking her questions, reveling in getting to know her again.

Ever since you found out that the Scarecrow was taking shipments from the cargo ships that come into the Port of Gotham, you’d had a tab open on your laptop to a tracking website. Lists of ships, their ports, the serial numbers of their containers. With that information, it was fairly easy to just plug it into a different website and find out what those containers were for.

Though your Intelligence professor stressed that state surveillance and lack of privacy was not a new thing in history, you did give a silent thanks to technology for making the information so much more accessible to the public. With just a few keystrokes, you were able to find out that in two weeks, another shipment of pharmaceutical chemicals was arriving in Gotham’s harbor.

Jotting it down in your notepad, you snapped it shut, biting back a smile.

Just like a real detective.

Of course, you told yourself, you weren’t going to do anything with the information.

But then again, you’d become very good at lying to yourself.

Office hours were largely unchanged from when you began your TA’ing position. You still came in, sat across from Jonathan, pulled out any work you needed to do, and worked in silence until he broke it. It was the same routine, every week. The only difference was now you left with him.

You pondered then, as you sat and flipped through a random assignment you were working on for one of your other classes, about the fact that you now spent a good amount of your life with Jonathan. Where a few months ago, you were starving for any scrap of attention he would give you, aching for him to look your way, you were now overwhelmed by it, spoiled with it.

Even as you sat separately, doing your own work individually, there was energy thrumming between you.

The two hours he allotted for office hours passed quickly- you were typing up your most recent notes from Psychology of Fear to send to the students. Jonathan had made a comment about how you would help grade their final papers, which you readily accepted. You barely spoke to one another the entire time.

Soon, you were walking across campus with him in the misty drizzle of the early evening, the streetlamps haloed with their own light as you passed through the illuminated circles they cast on the ground. As summer approached, the days were becoming longer, the blue twilight that currently enveloped Gotham lasting longer each day. You knew that he was leading you to the university’s largest parking garage, which was nestled in the center of campus. It was five stories tall, but extended down into the earth a few floors as well.

The parking garage was emptying out, now just a humid, cavernous space with no use. Jonathan had parked at the far side of the bottom level, the furthest corner from the entrance. Yellow lights cast long shadows over the garage, the shadows pitch black voids. Normally you would never come down here, especially never by yourself, but with Jonathan by your side you saw no reason to be nervous.

His hand lingered over the small of your back, as you noticed it often did when he was walking with you somewhere. While you enjoyed his gentle guidance, you also knew that it was reckless of him. No one, in the history of the modern world, has ever put their hand on that part of the human body without also having put their hands elsewhere. It was an indication of your intimacy, a silent admission of guilt (even though you’re sure that Jonathan had no guilt about his frequently fucking you). But you also didn’t care enough to ever brush him off.

Besides, you were alone now, the only sound in the parking garage was your footsteps.

When you reached his car, and instead of letting you go to your side of the car his hand flexed, maneuvering you to face him. Jonathan tilted your chin towards him, looking down into your eyes. Slowly, he pressed you against the car, his mouth capturing yours in a gentle yet passionate kiss. Though, in your experience so far, there was nothing he physically did with you that wasn’t passionate. Every time he touched you, it was like he was trying to stain your skin with his touch, to mark you forever as someone he once knew intimately so that any of your future lovers would know he once held you.

His hand slowly snaked down your body, slipping under the hem of your pants. His finger slipped through your folds, which were quickly becoming wet, playing with your clit as you whimpered.

You parted from him, gasping against his mouth.

“Anyone can see us-“

“It’s okay,” he hushed you, the tight circles he was drawing over your clit sending bursts of pleasure throughout your body, “no one will look down here.”

And unlike when he felt you up at the Gala, this time you threw caution to the wind, nodding quickly, breaths of yes, please, escaping your mouth. Let someone come down, let them see. As long as his touch continued, you didn’t care.

Jonathan slipped two fingers into you, the heel of his palm resting on your clit as he began to thrust his digits, creating a scissoring motion inside of you and dragging them against your inner walls as he brought them down. With each movement of his fingers, the pressure on your clit shifted, sending bolts of pleasure through your body.

You knew what he was trying to find when he was brushing against you, the sensitive spot inside you that would make your mouth gape and your breath catch. And with each pass of his fingers, he brought you closer and closer to your finish and your breath was filled with a litany of begging and pleading nonsense that he paid no mind to until, with a final gasp and murmured praise against your ear, you came, clenching around his fingers as he continued to work them inside of you.

As aftershocks of pleasure twinged your body, twitches running up and down your legs, he removed his fingers from your pants, bringing them to his mouth before sucking them off. You could only watch, eyes half-lidded as he brought them out of his mouth with a pop.

Panting, you pressed back against the door, leaning against it as you fought to regain your sanity and your breath. The heavy bursts of air coming from your mouth seemed deafening in the parking garage, like it was echoing on every corner before coming back to you.

You reached down, wanting to help Jonathan but he brushed you off. He opened the driver side door, turning back to look at you before he climbed in and started the car.

“Get in the car, it’s getting late.”

To his apartment, then. You had a feeling that you would not be getting any rest until much later in the night.

Wayne Enterprises, unsurprisingly, towered over you. It towered over much of the city, the building a staple of Gotham’s skyline.

You took a deep breath, straightening out your blouse, before pushing open the door. A blast of cold, clean air hit you as you entered the lobby, which was multiple stories tall and completely comprised of windows on the side of the doors. Natural light streamed in, basking the narrow room in its light. On the opposite side of the lobby were a few escalators and a row of elevators with a steady stream of people entering and exiting.

The whole building was a more corporate environment than you ever imagined yourself existing in but you also never imagined yourself working in an insane asylum. Life was full of surprises, it seemed.

Worrying your lip between your teeth, you searched the lobby for the receptionist. When you saw her, you wondered how you managed to miss her.

She sat at a long ornate desk, two monitors and an iPad sitting on the top. In her ear was a bluetooth earpiece, which she was listening to and responding intently as she typed rapidly on the keyboard. She smiled as you approached, giving you a finger signal that clearly meant “please wait one second,” which left you awkwardly shifting your weight from one foot in an uncomfortable shoe to the other foot in an uncomfortable shoe, looking at the room around you while trying not to purposefully eavesdrop on her conversation.

Finally, the receptionist smiled at you.

“Hi, welcome to Wayne Enterprises, how can I help you?”

I wonder if she feels like a drive through operator, probably saying that same thing to every person who comes into the building and needs help.

“Um, hi, I’m here for an interview? For the archives internship.”

“Who is your interview with?” She asked, already typing something, clicking at her mouse as she pulled up god-knows-what.

“Oh, shit.” You pulled out your phone, grimacing as you cursed your unprofessionalism, quickly pulling up your email app and scrolling for the confirmation email. “Oh! It’s here, um…”

The receptionist smiled. You wondered what she was thinking.

“Elizabeth Miller?” You grimace when it comes out sounding like a question, but the receptionist doesn’t seem to mind. She simply nods and types into her computer.

“Alright, I’ll tell her that you’re waiting for her. You can have a seat over there while you wait.” She gave you a bright smile which you returned with your own meek version, your nerves kicking into high gear now that you officially had no way out of the interview.

You pulled out your phone, selecting a random social media app to scroll around on while you waited. You knew that nothing you saw on the app would distract you from your impending interview, but it was better than staring into space and waiting. Which you did end up doing once you grew bored of your phone a minute later, slipping it back into your pocket.

Drumming your fingers on your knees, you watched as the elevator doors opened and closed, spitting out a few people at a time. None of them were who you were waiting for, though every time a woman walked out you perked up before deflating when she didn’t look your way.

Finally, a blonde woman who looked like she was in her mid-forties came out of the elevator, smiling widely with incredibly white teeth when she saw you waiting. When she was about a yard away, she held out her hand and began speaking, clearly used to the fast paced environment she worked in.

“Hi, I’m Elizabeth and I’m the internship coordinator here at Wayne Enterprises.”

You introduced herself, your voice breaking slightly. Clearing your throat, you repeated yourself. She smiled, gesturing for you to follow her. She led you into the elevator, pressing a button. The entire time she occupied you with small talk, inconsequential comments about the weather and questions about your semester.

When the doors opened, she immediately began walking again, leading you to a small conference room. Opening the door, she allowed you to walk through first before shutting the door behind her.

“The writing sample you submitted to us was great.” She said, gesturing for you to sit down. “I would love to read the whole thing. Jeremy thought it was a bit too topical to be applicable for an archival position but I thought it was a good example of how you write about your research.”

“Thank you.” You hadn’t expected to be complimented like this from the get-go. You were expecting the type of interview where the person interviewing you didn’t smile or respond to your answers and this was a pleasant surprise.

“And it does connect to the company’s history because, as you are well aware, the Riddler was the catalyst for us going in and re-examining our records of the Renewal program.”

She didn’t even sound uncomfortable as she relayed this, ever the professional.

“Right.” You had no idea what else to say, aside from I know, I wrote about it. It had been a risk, submitting a sample from your unfinished paper but you knew that it was some of your best work, commentary on the then-current political landscape of Gotham combined with the rise of vigilantism, how the two were symbiotic forces.

“Anyway, let’s get into it.”

You smiled, shifting in your chair. You could do this. In less than an hour, you’ll be back out on the street and making your way home.

The rest of the interview passed quickly, with Elizabeth smiling and nodding during every answer you gave. You wondered if she was like this with all of the interviewees to make them more comfortable or if you were actually succeeded at the interview.

She asked the usual types of questions one could expect from an interview: describe a time you solved a problem independently, how does your education supplement your experience, tell me about your philosophy when it comes to the archival process. Well, maybe that last one wasn’t exactly a normal interview question.

You left the conference room buzzing with confidence in yourself and your chances in actually getting the internship. And if you did, you would have done it without outside help.

As you left the building, you pulled your phone out, scrolling through your recent call log. Which was really just comprised of your mother (every call around ten minutes long), Jonathan (his calls averaged around two minutes, usually just to inform you of something or that he was waiting for you), and Marie (all of her calls were at least fifteen minutes long, and filled with comfortable banter and complaints about the day). You hit your mother’s number, bringing the phone to your ear as you began walking down the street away from Wayne Enterprises.

She picked up after three rings.

“Hey! What’s going on? How are you?” Your mom’s voice was loud and you’re not sure if it was because of your phone’s volume or because she was just so surprised to see that you were calling her that she couldn’t control herself.

“Hey, mom.” You turned the volume down on your phone anyway. “Just calling because I just finished my interview.”

You’d told her in a text a few days ago about your interview, which had resulted in a slew of emojis that only middle-aged moms used. But it was endearing and you’re glad that for once she was supporting one of your Gotham-related decisions instead of just immediately asking you to return home.

“Yay! How was it?”

“Good! I feel like I have a good chance of getting it, though I have no idea how many other people were interviewed.” You pushed down the urge to say something self-deprecating, to put yourself down. As far as you knew, you did have a good shot at getting it because nothing happened in the interview to indicate otherwise. You didn’t fumble on any of your answers, none of the questions tripped you up, and the woman you were interviewing with seemed genuinely interested in the things you wanted to say.

“That’s great!” You smiled at the phone even though you knew she couldn’t see it. “Maybe then you can work there instead of at that asylum.”

Your smile faltered, then, but it wasn’t an unexpected comment. When you’d told your mom about your new job, she was less than thrilled that you had gone from one dangerous job to another dangerous job, albeit dangerous for different reasons.

“It’s just an internship, it doesn’t mean I’ll automatically get a job offer when it's done.”

“Well, it’s a step up. You’ve got your foot in the door.”

You were quiet, unsure how to respond. After a few more seconds of silence, your mother changed the subject.

“Do you have any plans for tonight?”

“Not really.” You wracked your brain, trying to think of anything that you could do to tell her about. Certainly not scour the internet for information on Gotham’s latest masked criminal. “I guess I could watch some TV? I haven’t really done that lately, I’ve been so busy.”

“Well, whatever you decide on, I hope you have fun- Oh! I almost forgot,” You could hear her shuffling through something, puzzle pieces from the sound of it. “Did you want my old car? Your father and I have been discussing getting a new one since my current one doesn’t run as well. I figured since you wouldn’t be driving too much in that city and it’s old so now one would break in, it would fit your needs well enough…”

You were silent, shocked. You didn’t even notice that you had stopped walking in the middle of the sidewalk until someone walked too close to you, their shoulder hitting the side of your body as they failed to completely go around you. Shaking your head, waking yourself up, you started walking again.

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want it. It’s not a nice car, you know this-“

“What? Yeah!” You cut her off, a bit too loudly. You took a deep breath and calmed yourself back down. “I mean, I’ll probably still walk everywhere but yeah. Having a car would make getting to work easier and just… it would be nice. Yes!”

“Okay, we’ll see about coming to the city to bring it. And we can get a nice lunch, or something.”

“That’s perfectly fine with me, thank you so so so much.”

You finished the conversation quickly, hanging up and barely containing your squeal of excitement. A car! You’d have a car! And that meant that you could stop relying on Jonathan to take you to and from work, that you’d have more independence in the city.

As you continued your walk home, you couldn’t contain the smile that spread across your face. Everything was looking up. You had a new job that you didn’t completely hate, a relationship with your captivating psychology professor (who was also kinda your boss, but that’s fine), a possible internship at one of the largest companies in Gotham (that you would've gotten without said professor’s help), and now you had a shitty car to get around in.

Compared to your life at this time last year, you were doing infinitely better. Now you just had to put in the work to keep it that way.

next part

#I've gotten behind in posting it over here!#stbotdi #stay to burn only to drown instead #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #batman fanfiction #batman x reader #reader insert fic #crossposting from ao3 #my fic #my writing

9 notes · View notes

youvebeenlivingfictional · 2 years

Text

You Spin Me Right Round Part One

Masterlist | Next Part

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Rating: M

Notes: Set after the series because Eddie is fine he graduated no worries. Not beta-read

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of w e e d, fluff, some angst, negative feelings toward Reader’s father; Reader's father is an absent figure.

Summary: It’s not like you’re glued to the counter of the record store, but you’ve spent most of the last two years working at least 6 days a week. You know the regulars, and they know you.

Originally posted by shedaresthedevil

You try not to notice him, but it’s impossible. He sticks out like a sore thumb. His hair is longer and shaggier than his neighbors probably like; his shirt—the drawing, and the words Hellfire Club—are surely more than enough to rouse irritated grumblings from the more curmudgeonly, conservative residents; you’d caught the flash of his ringed hands as he’d shoved the door to Uptempo open (a bit too hard, and accidentally, if you had to guess—his shoulders had pulled up around his ears as the base of the door had loudly whacked into the stop on the wall).

Besides, anyone new to the shop tends to stick out to you. It’s not like you’re glued to the counter, but you’ve spent most of the last two years working at least 6 days a week. You know the regulars, and they know you.

You lower your eyes back to your book on the counter as you see his shaggy head turn toward you. You shift from foot to foot, trying to refocus on where you’d left off. You hear the thud of his boots, the rattle of his chain against his jeans. He strides past the counter, and you think, for a second, that he might stop to speak or ask you a question. But he just sails on by. You hesitate before you glance after him again, turning your head just slightly. When you see his head tip back toward you again, you hurriedly avert your eyes to a cup of pens that you keep on the counter for signing receipts and checks, shuffling a few around until you no longer feel the guy’s eyes on you.

You glance after him, leaning forward a little bit to see where he’s stopped. It’s pretty rare that someone’ll steal cassettes, but it’s happened a time or two, and it always comes out of your paycheck.

You turn your head as the door opens again, and your tight-shouldered concern melts at the sight of one of the regulars. He’s got a mischievous smile on his lips, a glint in his grey eyes. His cheeks are pink from exertion—he looks like he ran there.

“Hey Cliff,” You nod to him.

“Still reading, dorkazoid? Working those brain waves?”

He raises his hand to flick your forehead as he passes by, and you lean back, batting at his hand before he can make contact. You watch him trail in the direction that the other guy went, and you lean back as the two crow greetings—you vaguely register the other guy teasing, “You’re late, man, didn’t think you’d show.”

It’s a relief. You can relax a bit. If the guy knows and is friends with Cliff, there’s, like, an 87% chance that he’s not a complete dick. You let yourself zone in on your book then, secure in the fact that you probably won’t have to eye the new guy’s jeans and jacket for tapes on his way out.

You startle a touch at the slam of a tape against the counter. You look up at the guy, and go still for a moment.

You’d never gotten a good look at him when he’d come in, and now you’re stunned. The man’s eyes are wide, round, and dark. There’s a bashful little smile on his blush pink lips.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

You straighten up, shaking your head.

“You didn’t,” You offer. “Just this?”

“Yah.”

You turn to the register, eyeing the cassette cover and punching in the cost.

“Seven bucks.”

The guy fishes into his pocket, brow furrowing, then fishes into another.

“You already lose the cash I gave you, Munson?” Cliff snickers behind him.

“Nah, I’ve got it, it’s uhhhh…” The guy—Munson—pats down his front pockets, then jacket pockets, then back pockets—“Ha! Ah-ha! It’s here.”

He draws out a crumpled $10 with a triumphant smile, holding it up. You raise your brows, holding your palm out, and he drops the crumpled bill into your hand. You unfold it patiently, careful not to pull too roughly, mindful of any rips in it. In front of you, Cliff leans against the counter beside his buddy, plucking up the tape.

“Somewhere In Time? Jeez, Munson, really wasting that profit.”

“Shut up, man,” Munson scoffs, reaching out and shoving at Cliff’s shoulder. Cliff shoves back. You turn from the playful scuffling, making change and drawing out three singles. You turn toward the guys and find that the play-fighting has escalated. You arch your brows as Cliff loses his balance and wobbles. His elbow knocks the cup with pens, and you reach out, catching hold of it before they can spill out onto the counter. You glance at the other guy as he gives you a nervous smile, taking his change.

“Thank you, pretty lady.”

The casual compliment makes your stomach flutter. You manage to give a small nod, mutter a “Sure,” as Munson takes the tape up from the counter. You reach for your book as he turns to Cliff.

“I gotta go, I’ve got that other…Meeting.”

“Sure. Thanks, Eddie.”

“Yeah! Yeah.” He knocks on the counter twice, making you look up. He flashes you a quick smile, waving his hand. You raise yours hesitantly in turn, giving a single wave as the man turns and leaves. You glance after him, lowering your eyes when he turns back, presumably to look at Cliff. It’s a pause, the rattle of the door opening, and then closing again.

“Friend’a yours?” You ask, looking down at your book.

“Uh-huh.” A pause, then—“Hey, if you need a hookup, that’s your guy.”

“A hookup?” You frown.

“Yeah, you know, like…” When he trails off, you glance up at him and find him miming smoking. Your brows raise, and your eyes drift curiously back toward the back of the shop, where Cliff and his friend had been.

“...Cliff, I know you didn’t just tell me that you scored weed in the back of the shop.”

Cliff is quiet for a long moment, then. “...Nah. No. Just, you know. If you ever—Not here, pff, no. No. Obviously.”

You blink dumbly at Cliff for a moment before you shake your head, looking down at your book again.

“...But if I did tell you that—”

“If you did tell me, I didn’t hear it,” You say flatly. “Just…Be careful, you know. Andrews tends to pop up unannounced. If he catches you buying weed, his head’ll pop, and I’ll get fired, and if his head pops and I get fired, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“Copy.” Cliff pushed away from the counter, getting a few steps away, then stopping. “If you want me to share—”

“Cliff—”

“Okay! Going. Going.”

The sun has long since sunk into the horizon by the time you finish locking up Uptempo. You push at the door a couple of times to ensure it’s locked up, then turn away, shoving the shop keys into your pocket. You glance down the street, shifting your bag over your shoulder as you head for your car—your little shitbox car, as you affectionately think of it. You tug the door open and slide in, tossing your bag onto the seat beside you. It’s a cruddy little ‘65 emerald green AMC Rambler Marlin. You sigh softly, turning the key in the ignition and glancing into the road before pulling out.

It’s a quiet drive to your apartment. You find yourself sitting up in your seat a touch hopefully as you reach your block, then sinking back in your seat as you don’t see the car you’re looking for. It’s not surprising, but it’s disheartening. You park your car outside of the complex, grabbing your bag from the seat, and grab your mail as you head inside.

Like your car, your apartment isn’t exactly the nicest. You’ve done your best to make it homey. You’ve put up a few posters from the shop, framed a few pictures that you’ve liked from Better Homes & Gardens, and National Geographic.

You toss your backpack onto your patchy pink pastel loveseat and head over to your kitchen. You reach out to your radio, flipping it on. You slide the dial from left to right, gnawing at your lip as you look for something to listen to. You hesitate, settling on a baseball game before turning to the fridge. You yank it open, eyeing the inside. Its contents make you grimace. There isn’t much there—half a dozen eggs, a staling loaf of bread, a half stick of butter, and a nearly-empty container of orange juice. God, why did you even put the orange juice back? You reach for it, hesitate, and then turn from it. Maybe you’ll just drink that in the morning.

You walk over to the cabinet, opening that next. Beans…Rice…Yeah, that’ll probably have to be it. You sigh softly, reaching out and taking the two down. You zone to the baseball game in the same way that you zoned to the book. Your kitchen starts to fill with tasty scents, and your stomach grumbles impatiently.

You lean back as the two cook, and glance hesitantly toward the radio. You straighten a touch after a moment, walking toward the radio. Your hand hovers over the dial for a moment. Your fingers twitch with nerves as you switch to FM. You slide the dial back and forth a little, settling when you hear the steady strumming of guitar.

Babe, tomorrow's so far away

There's something I just have to say

I don't think I could hide what I'm feelin' inside

Another day, knowin' I love you…

The song makes your lips twitch to a smile, and as you listen on, you find yourself swaying back and forth a touch. You straighten up, humming a line of the song after it plays, a lagged, personal echo. You walk over to the mail where you’d set it down on the counter and take it up, shuffling through the letters.

A bill…A bill…Another bill…

I'm gonna take you by surprise

And make you realize, Amanda

I'm gonna tell you right away

I can't wait another day, Amanda

I'm gonna say it like a man

And make you understand, Amanda

You flip to the last bulging envelope and go still. Your heart drops into your stomach at the familiar handwriting. There’s no return address—but of course there wouldn’t be, he’s never in one place for long. You turn the envelope over and hesitantly open it. You draw a postcard out, eyeing the beach scene, skimming the words Greetings from the Oregon Coast!

You flip it over, and your eyes sweep the cramped writing, brow furrowing a touch.

Kid—

Show just stopped for a two month break. Staying on the West Coast. Tour picks up again in SF, CA. Cash in the envelope. Spend carefully—won’t be sending any for a while.

—Dad

You set the postcard down on the counter before peering down into the envelope. There’s a stack of cash there. You turn to the counter, reaching in and drawing out the bills. Fanning through them, you find mostly tens and twenties, and a few fives. You roll it up before you reach out, taking a coffee can out of the cabinet. You open it, drawing out the other cash your father has sent. You’ve been able to sock away most of it from the last few letters. You consider putting it all away, then glance toward your pitiful fridge. You draw a twenty from the roll, then tuck the rest away, putting the can back in the cabinet. You shove the twenty under the breadbox, and then turn to the postcard.

You don’t read it again—it hurt you enough the first time. You swipe it from the counter and wrench open the drawer where you keep the other postcards from him, cramming it aside before shoving it shut in anger.

Your ears catch on the radio again, and you turn to it, quickening in your step to reach it. You flip to AM, slide the dial back and forth, and relax as you find the baseball game again. You realize then that your face is hot, and your belly is twisting with irritation and disappointment. You turn from the radio and walk over to the stove, pursing your lips as you lower the heat beneath the beans.

You’ve no reason to be upset, you tell yourself. You’d been certain he wouldn’t come back over the break, but in his last postcard, he’d—well, you’d thought…At least you’d hoped—

Well. Whatever you’d thought or hoped, you know the truth of it now. It’s not unsurprising, it’s just such a…Fucking bummer. You sigh softly, flexing your hands on the counter before turning to get a bowl. You’ll move on. Hell, by morning you won’t even remember how disappointed you were, or why.

Taglist: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @paintballkid711 ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @nolanell ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce

#Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson/You #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson imagine

121 notes · View notes

caliawen · 1 year

Text

Overwhelming Love

Pairing = Fëanor x reader

Genre = General audiences

General ratings = fluff & angst

Content warnings = none

Reader’s gender = afab!reader, but no explicit gender (only pronoun used to describe reader is ‘you/your’)

Word count = 2,9k

Notes = second fic!! 🥳🥳🥳 I hope you enjoy it! Here are some words you should know before you read = m��lonya means ‘my friend’, lomba means blind, melinya means ‘my dear’, lissëhón means sweetheart, vanimelda is the highest word of praise for beauty (beautiful and beloved, elven-fair), ammë means mother and finally, yonya means ‘my son’

Fëanor had always felt insecure with the love people gave him. Since his mother died and his father remarried to have other children, he felt as if he wasn’t enough. Why would his father want other children if that wasn’t the case? And so, he outdid himself in everything he did to have his father’s attention. That was how he found his passion for writing and smithing.

One day, in the palace’s library, he felt for the first time that type of love he read so much about. You were browsing the shelves, Laurelin’s rays were caressing your skin gently, making you seem ethereal. For the first time in all of his life, Fëanor was speechless. Your beauty seemed to exceed that of Varda Elentári. Seeming to feel his eyes on you, you turned and looked in his gaze directly, before he abruptly tore his eyes away and faked reading. His cheeks were hot. You caught him looking at you like a creep! Of course you didn’t know that he was admiring your beauty, you didn’t know him!

Fëanor was torn out of his thoughts as he heard books being delicately put down on the table in front of him and a chair scraping against the floor. He snapped his head up and his eyes grew comically large as he saw you smiling at him. You spent a good hour reading with him, before leaving with a small ‘goodbye’. He couldn’t believe it. You had sat with him! Even if you hadn’t talked, you had supported his presence enough to stay seated with him for an hour.

The next few days passed in the same manner. Fëanor seated himself at his usual table and you arrived later, picking a few books before seating yourself in front of him. You gave him a shy smile and then you read in silence until you left after murmuring goodbye. Fëanor became used to this routine, so he was shocked when one day, in the middle of reading, you cleared your throat. He looked up at you and saw you shyly looking into his eyes.

“My name is (Y/N)”

He looked at you dumbly, before he realized he was supposed to introduce himself.

“I’m Fëanáro.” He said, awkwardly. He mentally beat himself, for that was his first impression of him to you. Awkward and not knowing how to converse. Normally, he didn’t have any difficulty talking, but you seemed to make his brain melt so that the only thought left was you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Fëanáro.”

You went back to your book, smiling gently and blushing. He was perplexed. After his mediocre introduction, you still didn’t mind his presence? You must be the incarnation of patience..

“What are you reading, if you don’t mind me asking?” He said, after searching for a long time for something intelligent to start a conversation with.

You looked up from your book, surprised, but also seemingly happy.

“Well, you see…”

That was the day Fëanor made his first friend. You were kind and patient, even with him. You listened as he rambled on and on about one of his discoveries or a topic he was passionate about. It seemed with each day, your beauty became more and more all-consuming. From the tip of your ears to your boots, Fëanor thought you were pretty. Your fëa was the cherry on top of the cake. You were so gentle and funny and respectful, he couldn’t imagine what ’perfect’ was if it wasn’t you.

One day, Fëanor saw you talking to another ellon at the ball his father threw for his coming of age. He didn’t understand why he felt so jealous. You had the right to pursue anyone you liked! So why did he covet your love like he did with his father’s? He ended up feeling angsty for a good amount of time, his jealousy making him snappy and insecure. What if this ellon didn’t like him and wanted you to stop being his friend? The rational part of his mind told him that you were probably only talking to him, flirting at most. You wouldn’t abandon your friendship for someone you weren’t in a relationship with.

He went outside, brooding in silence. A few minutes passed before he heard someone come his way. He looked out the corner of his eye, choking on air as he saw you. You looked concerned and he disliked himself for it, but he felt a strange sense of satisfaction at the fact that you left that ellon to go check up on him.

“Are you alright málonya?” You asked him, your brow furrowed in confusion and worry.

“I… am not..” he confessed hushedly.

“What is wrong then, Fëanáro?” You seemed to be truly concerned now, for he never admitted to being anything other than ‘perfectly fine’.

“I wish for something I probably cannot have..”

You looked deep into his eyes, seemingly searching his fëa. He turned his gaze away, afraid of your reaction if you were to find out.

“Fëanáro… tell me. Please..”

He felt the words of admission come out of his heart and up his throat, in his mouth, he only had to open it and he would be free-

“Why don’t you go back to that ellon you were talking with? You seemed happy with him.” He snapped instead, shame curling inside of him at his cowardice.

“Are you…jealous?” You quietly asked.

Fëanor flinched, not expecting you to see through his words, but then again, that was underestimating you, for you were the smartest elf Fëanor had ever come across. His silence seemed to be enough of an answer for you, because you took his chin in your hand and turned his head so that he was facing you.

“Oh, you lomba man..” you sighed, something like fondness taking over your features.

“I have loved you for a very long time, Curufinwë Fëanáro Finwëyón. You have a brilliant mind, you make me feel all fuzzy inside and meeting you at our spot is like coming home. I cannot tell you how many times I daydreamed about kissing your lips and holding your hand. You make me irrationally happy, Melinya. If you would have me, I would be yours..” you confessed, looking at his mouth towards the end of your last sentence.

He put his hands on your hips and tugged you towards him, kissing you passionately. To know that you felt the same way as he was a relief to Fëanor.

“I wish to court you properly, lissëhón. Can I?” He asked, breathless from your kiss.

Your enthusiastic nod and kiss is enough of an answer for him.

~~~

Your wedding was the biggest and most beautiful of the century. Everyone was in high spirits. It was fun to dance with you, but what was most wonderful was seeing your constant smile as you talked to guests.

Fëanor tore his gaze away from you as he saw your parents approaching. You were the exact copy of your mother, except for your smile. Your father had ginger hair and he had given you his smile. They were wonderful people and he was more than happy to have them as his in-laws.

He was teased by your father for his constant looking, but Fëanor couldn’t stop. You seemed to be radiating happiness as you walked towards him and your parents. It was incredible how Fëanor found himself falling deeper in love with you every day that passed.

~~~

The birth of your first son was a joyous occasion. Maitimo, you called him. Well-shaped one. You were absolutely right, for your child was beautiful. He had inherited his grandfather’s ginger hair and freckles, the eyes of his father and he had your ears, nose and lips. He was the joy of both your hearts.

The birth of your second son was an even more joyous occasion, for Maitimo was the one who had asked for a sibling. He bounced up and down, excited at the prospect of having a brother to play with. Makalaurë, you named him. Forging gold. Once again, you were dead on with the name, for little Makalaurë seemed to make songs more powerful than the Valar, spinning them from gold and leaving all hearts who had heard his singing aching for more. He had inherited his father’s hair and face and your eyes, nose and smile. He was magnificent.

The birth of your third son was followed by exclamations of joy and happiness. Makalaurë and Maitimo were ecstatic at the thought of another brother. Tyelkormo, you named him. Hasty-riser. He was a bundle of energy and woke you up at ungodly hours so that he could play. He was also quick to anger, filled with insecurities and quick to defend his loving family. He had Míriel’s hair, his father’s eyes and your ears, smile and nose. He was breathtaking.

The birth of your fourth son was a cacophony of delight. Everyone had waited long for this little one and he was finally here. Carnistir, you named him. Red face. It had surprised you all that your fourth son had a permanent blush on his face. It was however clear to all that it was adorable. Kisses were pressed on his cheeks constantly and hands caressed his hair. He had inherited the hair of his father and of his eyes while he had your smile and personality. He was calmer and more solitary, preferring to spend time with you than with other kids his age. He was your bliss.

The birth of your fifth son was filled with amusement. This little one looked so much like his father, it was comic. Atarinkë, you named him. Little father. It was more than fitting, for your fifth son attached himself to Fëanor and never let go. Everything his father did, Atarinkë had to do. He looked to Fëanor with awe in his little eyes and wanted to be held by him all the time. He loved his brothers and his parents more than anything in the world. You had no doubt you were heroes in his eyes. He was your euphoria.

The birth of the twins rocked the house. No one had really expected two babies when you had announced you were pregnant. Ambarussa you named them. Top-russet. It was fitting, for they both had the ginger hair of your beloved father. Your reasoning for giving them the same name was because they were born together and were fated to have one name. You still decided to give them separate names anyway. Minyarussa, you named the first one. The first. It was in relation to their birth order, for Minyarussa was the first one to see the light of Telperion. Umbarto, you named the second one. The fated. You had seen something, yet refused to tell Fëanor, which worried him, but at the same time, he didn’t want to push you. They were your rapture.

~~~

The rational part of his mind wailed in despair at what he had done. The Fear, however, was too strong. He had lost his father, he couldn’t lose his sons too, was what It whispered to him. And so, he bound himself and them to an oath. He was leaving Valinor to avenge his father and protect his sons from the Valar, they who hadn’t taken the menace that was Melkor seriously, they who had failed to protect them, they, who in a sense, were a part of the reason his father died. He would protect his sons, at all costs.

You weren’t in agreement with The Fear. You told him that this was madness, that he couldn’t do this, to abandon the oath and go back to how things were before. The rational part of his mind screamed at him to not do this, that you were right and that he would lose you if he didn’t heed your pleas. The Fear, however, was too strong. It killed the rational part of his mind with It’s fists and screamed at him to get away from this place. You didn’t come with him to Arda.

~~~

In his final moments, Fëanor thought back to what you had said and the rational part of his mind rose from the dead to tell him you were right.

~~~

Fëanor didn’t know how many years he spent in the Halls of Mandos. Time passed strangely there. Or more accurately, time had no meaning in these halls. When he was released after he had repented for his crimes, he learned that his sons were also free. He learned that Maedhros had married Fingon and that the former had adopted twins with Maglor. He had a second grandson, another one than little Celebrimbor, named Elrond.

You came to see him shortly after he was released. You both looked at each other, strangers again. He desperately wanted to go back in time and undo his mistakes. Oh, how he longed to wake up with you in his arms, to create you new jewelry and to brag with you about your sons’ accomplishments to other parents. He knew he had lost this privilege and that it was his fault. He knew he had lost you.

However, a glimmer of hope appeared in his chest as you slowly came forward, inches away from him. He raptly listened to what you had to say.

“I do not wish for us to separate our fëas, Fëanáro. What you did was cruel and pure madness, and I do not think I can ever forget what you put our sons through. However, our sons vouched for you. They explained to me that at the time of the oath, you weren’t yourself and that you weren’t okay mentally. I want you to heal, my love. Then we can see where we stand, as you are yourself again.”

“I promise I will heal, vanimelda. I promise.”

~~~

Fëanor kept his promise. He went to Lórien to work on his mind and fëa. It was an arduous journey and he sometimes wanted to give up. The rational part of his mind screamed each time he thought about that to not waste his only chance to win you back. His sons sometimes came to visit him. He apologized to all of them and to Celebrimbor. He was miraculously forgiven.

Fëanor had the pleasure to meet Elrond and his wife, Celebrían, along with their sons, Elladan and Elrohir. It was awkward at first, but slowly, they all warmed up to him. This gave him hope that one day, you could welcome him back into your arms.

~~~

The first time he met his mother in millenia, he cried. He fell into her arms and she hugged him to her chest, crying too. Torrents of tears fell down his cheeks, joy and hurt mixed together. He felt like Nienna had struck him down with grief as he could feel her lips kissing the crown of his head. Míriel rocked him back and forth, humming a tune he remembered was from his childhood.

When he had calmed down, he met his mother properly. They talked for days on end, taking back the time that was cruelly wrenched from them.

“Do you think she’ll ever take me back? Do you think she could love me again, ammë?”

His mother looked at him with love overflowing her eyes.

“Of course, yonya. Please let me meet her when you have won her back!”

~~~

His mother’s words carefully tucked to his chest, he made his way to you. His heart beat-no pounded in his chest and his stomach had a weird fluttery feeling inside of it. The greatest elf who ever lived, Curufinwë Fëanáro Finwëion, was nervous. He knew his sons would welcome him, but you, he had no idea. He hoped, oh how he hoped.

When he stood before you, Fëanor found himself speechless for the second time in his life. You were a beauty to behold, your magnificence unable to be described with words ; you were a feeling, someone to look at. One could not describe your beauty, they had to see it and to experience it.

“Hello, Fëanáro.”

Oh, how he loved how his name rolled off your tongue!

“Hello, (Y/N).”

He had no idea where to start. He had so much to say, yet so little words came to him. When you looked at him and gave him that little smile that made him fall in love, he knew everything would be alright.

~~~

Fëanor woke up, feeling for once at peace. He looked into his arms and found himself smiling, for you were there. The day before, after a long discussion filled with tears, you had accepted him back. That night, you had rekindled your fëas and it felt amazing to feel you again.

That day, Fëanor took you to meet his mother. It was a meeting that made his heart swell with the love he held for the two of you. He invited his sons along and his heart almost burst at the sight of his mother hugging her grandchildren. He looked at you and knew that the overwhelming love he held for you was right. He now knew peace, reunited with his family, even if he missed his father. Yes, this was indeed where he was supposed to be.

@theelvenhaven

#fëanáro #feanor #fëanor #x reader #fëanor x reader #fluff #angst #happy ending #writing #fanfiction #love at first sight #children #family #character analysis?#this is from fëanor’s pov

32 notes · View notes

griseldabanks · 8 months

Note

For the count the ways ask game: Steve and Bucky, "You're my idiot".

Let Me Count the Ways ask game

“You sure you're gonna be okay?” Bucky asked for the fifth time.

Steve waved weakly at him from the mound of blankets he'd burrowed under on the bed. “Not gonna croak just 'cause you went to work,” he sniffled.

“I dunno, you sound pretty croaky to me,” Bucky said, wrapping his scarf around his neck and pulling on his gloves as he looked critically at his best friend's bleary-eyed gaze. It wasn't a good joke, and Steve didn't laugh. Not that he would have laughed even if Bucky had told the best zinger anyone had ever thought up, probably.

“Get outta here,” Steve mumbled. “I'll be fine.”

“Okay.” Bucky reluctantly backed out of the bedroom. “I left you extra water. And some books. And I'll come straight home from work.”

“I know, Buck.”

“Just...don't do anything stupid until I come back, all right?”

Steve started to reply, but broke into a coughing fit before he could finish. Bucky hesitated on the threshold, but Steve waved him impatiently away, so Bucky closed the bedroom door and headed out, chased by the sounds of Steve's hacking cough.

Bucky hurried down the stairs and down the street; he was already late, and he knew he would get an earful once he got to work. But he just couldn't shake the worry. All the way to work, in every idle moment throughout the day, his thoughts kept returning to Steve—especially when he glanced out the window at lunch and saw snow blowing past.

Maybe the worry was ingrained into him after all these years, like a habit he'd never be able to shake. Steve made it really easy to worry about him, notwithstanding all of his protests and reassurances. Besides, this had been a particularly hard year. This winter was bitterly cold, and money was tight. The summer had been brutally hot, as well—so hot you could feel your brain melting, and that hadn't done wonders for Steve's health either.

And...the other thing. The thing they never talked about. The emptiness in Steve's life since that awful, awful day.

Maybe we should talk about it, Bucky mused as he trudged back home at the end of the day, bowing his head against the wind that drove snowflakes like icy spears against his skin. Maybe it's worse because we never bring it up. If we could just...talk about her. Remember the good things. Maybe then...he could let her go. Move on.

Bucky knew nothing was ever going to be the same, not without Miss Sarah. But there was still a lingering deadness in Steve's eyes sometimes, like he wasn't really there. Like he was floating away, like he was going to meet his mother again in a place Bucky couldn't follow.

With a sigh of relief, Bucky stepped through the front door to the apartment he shared with Steve, which was dark and silent in the winter evening. He stamped the slush off his shoes as quietly as he could and didn't call out, hoping that the quiet meant Steve was sleeping.

But as he pulled off his scarf, he glanced up and froze. The door to the bedroom stood ajar. The room inside was dark, but Bucky could make out the blankets thrown back.

The bed was empty.

With a curse, Bucky turned on his heel and bolted back out the door. He tore down the stairs and back out into the street, squinting into the snow blowing harder and harder in his face. “Steve!” he called, but there was no response.

Picking a direction at random, Bucky hurried up the street. There weren't many people on the sidewalk, not in this weather. They all seemed to be hustling homeward, heads bent against the wind.

As the seconds ticked by and Bucky still didn't find Steve huddling in any of the doorways or alleys he frantically searched, dread filled Bucky's chest like the icy gasps of air in his lungs. Steve was sick. He'd been running a fever for days, and if he'd come out on a day like this, he could already be....

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Bucky screamed, “Steve!” He kept going, slipping and sliding on the ice forming on the sidewalk, running aimlessly and howling Steve's name as loud as he could, as if to banish the terror bubbling up inside him.

In place of the fear, anger clouded his vision as much as the sleet pelting him. What was Steve thinking anyway, going for a walk on a day like this? He wouldn't last long out here even on one of his better days, but he was sick! And now Bucky had to stay out here looking for him, and he was probably going to catch his death, and then....

Bucky came to a sudden stop. He didn't think he'd heard anything—it would have been hard to hear even someone who was shouting on a day like this—but something drew his attention to the alleyway he'd just passed. He turned back, trying to shield his face with his arm as he squinted into the darkness next to Mr. Botticelli's butcher shop.

Was that...a shoe? Sticking out from behind the garbage cans, which had been overturned as if someone had stumbled against them....

“Steve!”

Bucky rushed forward, dropping to his knees next to a very familiar form wrapped in a coat. He lay sprawled on his face in a pile of half-frozen trash, without hat or gloves or scarf, lying awfully still. As Bucky rolled him over, he saw the deathly pallor of Steve's cheeks, grey from the cold.

“Stevie!” he cried, shaking him by the shoulders. “Come on, pal, don't do this to me! I told you not to be an idiot!”

Sluggishly, Steve cracked his eyes open and let out a weak cough. Bucky had never heard anything more wonderful in his life.

“Come on, let's get you home.” Bucky shrugged out of his coat and wrapped it around Steve's shoulders before heaving him up into his arms. He hated how easy it was. Steve didn't even make a token protest as Bucky picked him up like a baby and hurried back the way he'd come.

It was marginally easier to get back home, with the wind at his back the whole way. Bucky barely even noticed the snow and ice pelting his back and soaking him through to the skin. All he cared about was getting Steve home as fast as possible.

Finally, gasping for breath and shivering all over, Bucky stumbled up the last few steps and fumbled with the door to their apartment. He realized he hadn't even closed it all the way, in his haste to find Steve.

For the next few minutes, Bucky bustled around. He stripped off their sopping wet clothes and replaced them with clean, dry ones, tucking Steve back in bed under his mountain of blankets. He heated water for tea and a hot water bottle, but even with those heat sources, Steve was still shivering.

Bucky wasn't a nurse like Miss Sarah had been. He couldn't tell if the shivering was from the cold outside, or the fever within. He wasn't sure if he should be trying to warm Steve up or cool him off, but he couldn't stand to hear the way Steve's teeth kept chattering. So he crawled under the covers as well and pulled Steve closer, wrapping his arms and legs around him.

“Gonna catch what I've got,” Steve mumbled, but the shivers were already dying down.

“You don't get to lecture me, idiot,” Bucky said fiercely, resting his forehead against Steve's clammy temple. “What the hell were you doing out there?”

“Going to Mom.” Steve blinked blearily at him, like that was a perfectly normal thing to say.

“In a blizzard?” Bucky spluttered at him. “The cemetery's a mile away! What were you going to do, just walk there? You've got a fever, Steve! You can hardly make it to the toilet without keeling over!”

“I know, I...I wasn't...th-thinking straight....” He broke into a coughing fit, weakly turning his head to the side so he didn't cough directly into Bucky's face. Then he started choking and wheezing around the congestion in his lungs, and Bucky hastily helped him sit up, thumping him on the back until the fit was past.

Easing Steve back down and carefully tucking the blankets back around him, Bucky eyed his best friend anxiously. He looked utterly exhausted—huge bags under his eyes, his cheekbones jutting out in his pale face, his hair still damp from the snow. In this moment, while his breath wheezed in and out, he looked like he was on death's doorstep. But that thin chest still rose and fell, and that was all that mattered.

Steve cracked his eyes open again and found Bucky's. “I...I know I'm...an idiot,” he whispered. “Sorry.”

With a sigh, Bucky lay back down and pulled Steve into his arms. “Yeah. But you're my idiot. So don't you die on me too, okay?”

Out of nowhere, tears flooded his eyes. Tears of the fear that had chilled him to the bone when he'd realized Steve was missing. Tears of relief that he was okay. Tears of grief, still so potent even after all this time.

Cold, trembling fingers brushed against his cheek. He blinked the tears away to find Steve watching him with concern, his gaze intent even through the haze of fever. “I'm not going to die, Buck. Not today.”

Bucky covered Steve's hand with his, hoping to warm it up. With a sniffle, he nodded. “Keep it that way.”

#ask and you shall receive #nerdychristianfanboy #ask games #let me count the ways #captain america #bucky barnes #steve rogers #brooklybros #white tree #this took me a while to figure out because my first idea was to make this about sometime when they're kids and steve confronts a bully #but since i was homeschooled i was never really bullied and i always struggle to make that sort of thing realistic and not too dramatic #so in the end i decided to flesh out a little scenario i've always imagined

4 notes · View notes

cannibalcreeps · 1 year

Note

You're getting so many hilliker asks and rightfully so but!! I'm here to annoy you with hills have eyes asks 🥰 what do you think Goggle, Big Brain and Chameleon would be like if they fell in love with someone? I can only see Goggle actually falling in love willingly but ya never know!

Love me some thhe bois, also ooooh a thhe 2 boi 👀 that's a rarity.

Should let you know I haven't watched it yet but I've got an idea on what Chameleon may be like (being as most the mutants are pretty much a basic bitches in the movies)

--------

Goggle: Is more for the lust than love, but can definitely reach the level of love, even if it's selfish love. Doesn't believe anyone would love him, no outsider that is, never really crossed his mind so it will definitely hit him like a wall of bricks if you decide to confess yourself to him. Though he seems timid, hidden away in the mountains, Goggle is still just as feral as the other clan members, so he will take advantage of any feelings between the two of you. It will grow into love though, more protective, more caring and desire than just lustful sexual wants. Will show how gentle and kind he can be, from sharing to holding but he's still very selfish and will coerce into things he wants, through manipulation under the guise of shyness.

Big Brain: This man doesn't believe anyone will love him, so he guards his heart and hides it behind sourness and cruelty, definitely someone that will take a lot of patience and determination to win over, especially dealing with his rude, hurtful words and threats. But if you somehow, someway melt this cold bitches heart he is oddly sweet, very power hungry and controlling, but sweet. In private that is. Around others he is just as vile as he usually is, not wanting to show he has gained feelings towards you, afraid it'll make him seem weak and everything is about control with Big Brain. So he can experience love, but he isn't a good lover (verbally/mentally) with his sourness.

Chameleon: Believes its love, but truthful it is lust he's experiencing and a carnal lust that has been warped into what he thinks is what love must be like, it's a warped view from what he has seen in picture books or movies, sometimes seeing it in how victims show it to each other. He thinks love is about him getting all the attention and just giving back physical affection, showing that who he is infatuated with that he likes their presence and will keep them alive but doesn't understand there is more to it. Also with Hades around, there is no chance he'll be brave enough to protect them from that brute. He's good to be around for a fun fuck, especially with that tongue of his, but you don't want a long-lasting relationship with a selfish man like him, unless you're willing to go through hell and attempt to 'fix him', but it's not Chameleon you need to watch out for.

#kinda wrote this at like 2am so my brains fried but hopefully you enjoy this one #i love thhe asks UwU even if our fave bois are mean as fuck lol #anon ask #anon answer #thhe ask #thhe answer

14 notes · View notes

cin-sarad · 2 years

Text

I got the book yesterday afternoon, and finished it 5 am this morning. It was a pretty good/easy read. I had wanted to write down my thoughts about the story when I finished it, but it was 5 am.

**major spoiler alert**

(also English is not my native language but I’ll do my best to be intelligible.)

For a long time I had been reluctant to read any of the new “canon” of Obi-Wan’s padawan years, because I had grew up with the Jedi Apprentice series, which is fundamental to my understanding of Obi-Wan’s character. The arcs with Bandomeer, Melida/Daan, Xanatos/Bruck, and Zan Arbor were pretty much ingrained in my brain. Personally, it is still a little unsettling to read stories that contradict the JA storyline, but I suspect that, with the help of some mental gymnastics, I might manage to meld the old and new stories into a semi-coherent head canon.

While the apprenticeship described by the Padawan is more TCW compliant, there are quite a few things in the book that are consistent with the JA series:

Obi-Wan as a teenager struggled with self-doubt, despite excelling at saber work and a lot of his studies.

A major part of it was due to Qui-Gon’s mannerism as a teacher (more on this later).

And part of it was likely because (allegedly) Master Yoda had been the one to push them together. Obi-Wan was never chosen.

Obi-Wan, even as a teen, was always, always ready to give his life in order to save others (*unhappy Cody and Anakin noises*).

The new characters as Obi-Wan’s fellow padawan (in particular, Bolla) were quite interesting. I was a little disappointed at the lack of Quinlan, but Siri has made it into this story with a less annoying (sorry) personality (I wonder if she is still a Tachi and if Adi is still her master). The author made it sound like they have different initiate friends than padawan friends, which is an intriguing concept (like going to different elementary schools and middle schools).

And I can’t help but find Padawan Kenobi extremely… cute, for the lack of a better word. In the beginning of the story, he was essentially a very polite ball of anxiety. His interactions with Aces (Aces! He nicknamed his droid Aces!) and the younglings on Lenahra were so endearing it melted my heart. His interaction with animals, plants, and the planet gave me warm, fuzzy Ghibli vibes. Obi-Wan’s realization that the core reason for his struggles were that he cared deeply about everyone and everything, and him making a mental list of useful skills to learn once he’s back in the Temple (and evidently he did learn them), made me smile because they were just so in character of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The part that everyone is talking about - the implication that Obi-Wan might be biromantic and asexual, or at least questioning - I don’t find all that surprising. At least in my head canon, Obi-Wan has always been somewhere on the ace/aro spectrum (though I do love a good ship story, and there are A LOT of those in the fandom), and I consider him more of a pan, in the sense that gender matters little to his attractions, than a bi. But it’s nice to have my head canon more or less confirmed. Also Anakin kinda gave him away in RotS.

The book has also done quite a bit of foreshadowing:

Dooku’s statement that Qui-Gon would’ve joined him if he’d been alive, and Obi-Wan’s conviction that no, actually, he wouldn’t, all made more sense now (the author had also wrote it in a way that suggests that Dooku and Obi-Wan were destined to not meet until AotC, which is interesting).

Upon meeting the inhabitants on the mysterious planet, the first thing Obi-Wan said was hello there and the first thing Obi-Wan did afterwards was losing his lightsaber.

It’s quite clear that Obi-Wan already had a propensity for negotiating (even when the opponents were trying to kill him) and inappropriate comments in life/death situations. As well as his future skill in animal bonding and mind influence. Obi-Wan was also already masterful in finding faults in himself and finding ways to self-recriminate (*frowning in Cody*).

The rumination about the Jedi Council (“they were old” lmao), and the disbelief that Obi-Wan could possibly have an apprentice “worse” than him… Oh he had no idea…

Obi-Wan giving himself to the Force instead of trying to use it reminds me of Dooku’s observation of him in the Force in RotS - a vessel of the Force, a window where light shines through. The part where Obi-Wan let go, is also reminiscent of him letting go in the midst of his fight with Vader on Mustafar, allowing the Force to dictate his actions.

Obi-Wan’s decision to dedicate his life to following the Force regardless of his status as a Jedi, his desire to help everyone in the galaxy, and his love of the Jedi, the Temple, and Coruscant… I didn’t know it’s possible for me to feel even sadder about his fate...

(Speaking of which, I was also curious about the ominous financier who had wanted to harvest the Power to use against the Jedi - was he Darth Plagueis?)

Okay. On the topic of Qui-Gon Jinn (apologies in advance for the long rant ahead). I severely disapprove of his attitudes and decisions in the JA series, but I didn’t hate him as a character, because we were made aware the underlying psychological trauma contributing to his flaws. Though it does not exonerate his mistreatment of the one child dependent on and looking up to him, I at least understand him to be emotionally compromised. The Qui-Gonna Jinn in Padawan, however, even though it was later attributed to Obi-wan’s misunderstanding, seemed just inherently (and frustratingly) inscrutable, without any good reasons beyond his personality and teaching style. There were indeed some good moments (and Obi-Wan was apparently secure enough to find him annoying (lmao), unlike the JA Obi-Wan), but there were also points at which I wanted to tell him to please just talk to your kid. I do get the let-the-child-work-out-their-own-issues method and even some of its potential benefits, but at least provide them with the assurance that they will have a place by you even if they do not succeed for the moment? So much of Obi-Wan’s anxiety and insecurity (and the resulting downward spiral that blocked him from the Force in the first place) were simply because he’d felt misplaced due to his perceived failure to connect with his Master - are they really necessary to teach Obi-Wan to trust the Force? After all, the two years of temple-bound meditation administered by Qui-Gon had done Obi-Wan no good, and he would’ve been stuck still if not for this self-imposed rebellious mission. It just seemed like lazy teaching. Also, had he no concern for the kid’s safety? I kept thinking that it was entirely feasible for Qui-Gon to track Obi-Wan to the planet; he’d told him which trial to follow and it would only take a trip to the Archive to find out. It seemed like Qui-Gon trust the Force so much that if Obi-Wan ended up dead, it would be the Will of the Force and therefore fine with him. And to think that, when faced with certain death, the two thoughts on Obi-Wan’s mind were 1) hoping his last act would help his friends, and 2) hoping Qui-Gon wouldn’t feel guilty about his death after he’d found out… I guess Qui-Gon did canonically enter a nine-year-old Anakin in pod race, so there is no way around his disregard for the safety of his charges. I don’t know if I like this version of Qui-Gon any better than the one from the JA series.

And a (major) part of it was because I severely dislike tardy people.

On the bright side, I like this version of Dex and Obi-Wan first meeting much more - a friend from a shared adventure and not just a friend of his master’s. I don’t remember if Dex’s former occupation as a weapon dealer was canon, so I was a little confused by him identifying as a miner in the book (though he was responsible for handling the mining bombs). I hope to read more of Obi-Wan’s adventures involving Dex because I really enjoyed his character.

The part of the story where Obi-Wan reflected on the power the Jedi were given, which necessitated the structure and rules they were bound by, I thought was really good. I know many people dislike the Jedi for their rigidity, specifically the no attachment rule, but there were practical and historical reasons for their implementations, namely to make sure the Jedi use responsibly the power they were given instead of wielding their privileges freely. No attachment simply means no attachment above duty, it does not equate forbiddance of love and compassion. And if one chooses something else over duty, they are free to leave and welcome to visit, just as what Qui-Gon had said about Dooku (which is another part of the story I really liked). It’s only when someone (*ahem*) secretly keeps a marriage vow on top of the Jedi vow that it becomes a problem. The downfall of the Jedi, in my humble opinion, had much more to do with its ties to a corrupt senate, than any one of its restrictions.

Overall, I liked the book. It’s well-paced and insightful in places. I think the most prominent and lasting impression I will have of the story is OBI-WAN INTERACTING WITH DROIDS AND YOUNGLINGS AND ANIMALS AND PLANTS AND A WHOLE PLANET OMG HE SO CUTE!!!

(sorry life is just really stressful rn.)

6 notes · View notes