#I just want to teach at the college level but all I have left is this EDtpa and student teaching to get my k-12 teaching degree | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mydearzero · 10 months

Text

Lisztomania | Spencer Reid x Reader

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: Years after joining the BAU, you thought you'd gotten past your little celebrity-like infatuation with Spencer, the whole reason you applied for the BAU. A case involving the murder of several groupies of an up-and-coming indie rock band is bound to prove you wrong.

Contents: NO Y/N, fem!Reader, BAU!reader, co-workers, friends to lovers, smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie. If I missed any warnings please tell me!

4.7K words

It wasn't an everyday occurrence that Spencer would be the one to deliver the profile to the public. He looked a lot more stoic on TV than in real life. You never failed to be amazed by how he could still surprise you over the years. He looked confident, and it was a good look on him.

"-The man we're looking for is between the ages of 25 and 40. He is of an average build. He's likely socially inept and doesn't mingle well with his peers. Please be on the lookout for anybody who fits this description and contact the FBI through the local Police Department. Thank you."

"Someone's gawking." Emily's words startled you out of your Spencer-induced trance. You crossed your arms and grumbled.

"No, I wasn't..." You bit the inside of your cheek as Emily pat your shoulder and scoffed a laugh.

"Sure, you weren't. I gotta give it to you. TV does Boy Wonder well." Emily said as she watched the head of the local Police Department take over the press conference as Spencer left the screen.

"I guess I'm just amazed at how different he looks while doing press. Compared to how he usually carries himself, I mean." You shrugged. Emily turned to look at you, no longer interested in the TV screen.

"Guess that's the profiler in all of us. You can't help but compare. But you're right. Reid does have a certain je ne sais quoi about him, I suppose."

_________

That was several months ago. It wasn't until you saw Spencer in front of a classroom that a familiar, uneasy feeling returned to your stomach. Emily was right. He did 'have a certain je ne sais quoi about him'. You just couldn't put your finger on what it was.

"-Which is why it's crucial we always discuss the details of the COD with the coroner's office. COD being the Cause of Death, of course." Spencer spoke with an air of juvenile enthusiasm. You were glad he still had that part in him, despite everything that happened previous to his teaching.

He finished the class and was about to walk over to where you were leaning against the wall, waiting for him to finish. But when he was nearly done packing his satchel, a small group of college girls formed around his desk. The soft smile he'd directed at you was quickly cut short.

You stared in amazement at the girls' shameless flirting. Spencer had turned this group of brilliant and educated girls into giddy schoolgirls, all by just being himself. They all wanted a piece of him, and you started to have peace with the fact that you didn't blame them. You were in the same boat.

_________

The final straw was during a case concerning a string of murders involving groupies of an up-and-coming indie rock band.

"I mean, I get the urge to throw your panties on stage at an attractive man. I do. Even I would've taken the bait with Nick Carter, given the chance. But to follow a random stranger down a dark alley in the hopes of meeting your idol? That seems a bit far-fetched. Girls this age are smarter than that, especially with the media frenzy." JJ flipped through the details described in the case file.

"There's been several cases of fangirls going to great lengths to get what they want from their idol. The earliest case would probably be with Hungarian composer Franz Liszt in 1841.

The term 'Lisztomania' came about in 1844, describing an intense level of hysteria demonstrated by fans, a bit like the treatment of celebrity musicians today – but in a time not known for such musical excitement.

A more recent example would be Beatlemania, or even the so-called 'Bieber Fever' or 'One Direction Infection'. There have been several studies that explain this behaviour, but I won't get into that." Spencer trailed off.

"I know someone else who had a case of that. But I think that was just called a hard-on." JJ joked, jabbing at Spencer's short-lived fling with Lila Archer over ten years ago. Spencer grumbled something along the lines of "Can we please let that go," but it fell on deaf ears.

"It's still strange they would follow someone down the alley unless the person they're following has been established in the girls' minds as someone with authority, like a crew member connected to the band," Rossi mentioned.

"Garcia, look into all the current members of the band's crew along with the people working at the venues. We're going to need you at the scene, too. There's a lot of social media involved. Thank you. Wheels up in 30." Hotch stood up, signalling the meeting was finished.

You walked with Emily back to the bullpen, Spencer following close behind.

"You know, I get it. There's something attractive about a man with a platform, even if you put him on that pedestal yourself, to begin with." Emily said as you leaned against her desk.

"Yeah, for sure. It doesn't have to be a pop star or actor. A celebrity, even. Could be anybody under the right circumstances." You agreed. You could see the appeal in having an unrelenting devotion to someone like that.

You put Spencer on a pedestal like that, in a way. You watched as he gathered his things into his go-bag. You knew he was a flawed person, like anybody. Yet, in your eyes, all his problems could be explained or ignored. You didn't notice the curious glance Emily sent your way.

While on the jet, you contemplated the case. Would you have fallen for the ruse? Maybe if you had been a bit younger? You'd had your own little celebrity obsessions. You wouldn't have ruled it out if free tickets and a meet & greet were in the picture.

It was a quick but convoluted catch once the profile was made. Thank you, Penelope. The UnSub was most likely one of the band's crew members who used to date the bassist. They'd broken up due to an increasing number of groupies getting in the way of their relationship. Go figure she'd go and murder them.

The catch happened right in time with the start of the show, the bustling crowd missing all of the mayhem that had gone down backstage due to the support act. How the gigs hadn't been cancelled yet was beyond you.

"You can stay and watch the show from the VIP area if you want. It's the least we can do, really. Though, maybe ditch the FBI gear." The lead singer had a charming smile. You could see how the crowd waiting for him could be captivated by his energy.

After Hotch checked with the hotel and pilot, the team decided to take the band up on their invitation. After a quick shower and change at the hotel, you drove back to the venue in groups.

You were escorted to a barricaded area near the front of the stage. The energy of the crowd was exhilarating. An electric tension hung in the air as the 30-minute change-over between the support was filled with soft music from a playlist.

JJ and Rossi came bearing gifts, both carrying several drinks to hand out to the team. You thanked them as you took one, taking a sip of the ice-cold drink. You deserved to relax and enjoy a night like this after the gruelling case.

You watched unabashedly at Spencer, red overhead lights casting down on his face. You'd like to see how he'd do on the stage, perhaps in an alternate universe, and with a different wardrobe. He was undoubtedly eclectic enough to pull off the whole rock star gig.

He felt your gaze and made eye contact, working his way past a wildly gesturing Emily as she told a story. He lightly grabbed your upper arm when he reached you.

"Hey." You saw his mouth move, but his words got lost under the chattering crowd. You smiled and leaned closer.

"Hi! Fancy seeing you here!" You shouted. Spencer winced as he laughed. You'd obviously overestimated the volume of the crowd. You mouthed a quick apology before taking another drink.

You nearly choked when Spencer leaned even closer, invading your personal bubble (that was already narrow), to talk directly in your ear.

"Did you know that typical movement behaviour at large events like these increases the risk of spreading infectious diseases?" You bit your lip as you stopped yourself from laughing. Leave it up to Spencer to break the tension like that.

"It makes sense, I guess. Lots of people, lots of bodily fluids. Kinda gross, now that I think about it," you replied.

Just as he was about to speak again, the lights dimmed, and screams filled the stadium. You gave him a small smile, which he returned, afterwards turning to look at the show. He stood behind you for the majority of the show, and while you would've loved to admire him in the gorgeous lighting a little longer, you couldn't have asked for a better person to have rubbed up against you for an hour and a half.

After the show, Hotch, Rossi, and JJ decided to return to the hotel for some much-needed rest ahead of their early flight the following day. The rest headed out to a bar just around the corner of the venue. You walked quickly, the cold of the outside being a jarring change from the heat at the concert.

You were a few drinks in when Penelope brought up a subject you'd somehow managed to avoid all these years.

"If I hadn't joined the FBI, I would've liked to be some sort of celebrity," She mentioned, taking another sip through her straw.

"Considering the type of psychos we encounter on a daily basis, I'd rather be less known, not more." Emily shuddered. You were quick to agree. Although fame was attractive on some level, you wouldn't want to risk situations like those you'd witnessed these last few days in exchange.

"What made you want to become an agent in the first place?" Penelope turned to you before continuing. "I didn't have much of a choice, to be honest. It was jail or the FBI, and I'm not jail material. I mean, look at me!" She gestured wildly to herself.

You chuckled and decided to pick an opt-out answer. "I just saw it as the right thing to do, you know? Make the world a better place, even if it's only little by little." You shrugged.

Spencer squinted as he ran his eyes over your face. "Bullshit." He determined. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his callout.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You questioned genuinely. Sure, you hadn't been entirely honest, but it wasn't a lie.

"You're lying, I can tell. You do that thing with your face. Besides, that's the most basic answer ever. Surely a person with as much integrity as you do would have a better reason than a moral superiority complex." Spencer stated matter-of-factly. You gaped at his accusation.

"He's right, though. You have no connection to the Bureau. Reid is a wunderkind, Garcia is basically an ex-con, and I'm a child of nepotism. What made you apply? And for the BAU of all places?" Emily wondered out loud.

You recoiled as you realised there was no getting out of this. If you were going to dance around the subject, Penelope would get too curious, anyways. She'd have your application and its details pulled up in no time. That, along with cross-referencing the BAU with your college, it wouldn't take a mastermind to figure out what happened.

"I actually followed a lecture on sexual sadism and the Mill Creek Killer back in college that made me wonder if I'd be cut out for it." You admitted, omitting some key details.

The one secret you'd sworn to take to your grave was that Spencer was the sole reason you were with the FBI in the first place, having followed one of his guest lectures a few years back.

He hadn't even left the room before you'd turned in your online application to the Academy.

"Why not mention that in the first place? God, no need to be so secretive about it." Penelope whined. You didn't answer as you tentatively sipped your drink, feeling busted for no reason.

You glanced up to look at an overly smug and amused Spencer. Blood rushed to your cheeks when you realised you were most definitely caught.

"You know, when Hotch first introduced us to you, I thought I recognised you from somewhere. But the memory I have of that lecture is actually overshadowed by this kid who was also there, Nathan Harris. He ended up killing some prostitutes. But now that you mention it, you did go to Georgetown, didn't you?" Spencer knew he was right. He just wanted to see how you were going to talk yourself out of this one.

"Oh, you gave that lecture? I never realised..." It was a pathetic lie, and there was no hiding it. Emily snorted out loud. She'd clocked your little 'thing' for Spencer long ago, you knew that much.

"Aww, you looked up to Spencer? That's so cute!" Penelope gushed. That sure was one way to put it. You made a face that must've said as much.

"What, you didn't look up to me? I'm offended. Here I thought I was your favourite professor." Spencer joked. He excused himself as he walked to the bathroom. Great timing, as it gave you time to rid your cheeks of the flush you were sporting.

"Be honest with me. And don't bother lying because we've all seen the heart eyes you throw at Pretty Boy. Were you genuinely interested in joining because of the subject matter? Or..." Emily encouraged you to answer.

You sighed as you brought a hand to your face. "Honestly? I wasn't sure if I wanted to be him or be with him. But at least I signed up for the class out of genuine interest! There were plenty of girls there that were there purely for the hour-long eye candy!" You defended yourself.

"And you applied for the Academy after the lecture? At least it must've been interesting." Penelope wondered out loud.

"Actually..." You winced. "He'd hardly even been done with his introduction before I'd filled in the online application. But I was very single, okay? And he'd already built up this celebrity status on campus." It felt nice to admit to it after years of harbouring it.

"Oh! You naughty little fangirl!" Penelope exclaimed.

"I'm not a fangirl! It's been years!" You groaned. You took it back. It didn't feel nice. You should've kept it to yourself.

"Who are you a fangirl of?" Spencer asked, putting a new glass in front of Emily and sitting back down by your side.

"You! She's a total groupie." Penelope betrayed you. You shot her a nasty look, but it went ignored by her drunken, self-satisfied glee.

"Is that so?" Spencer turned to you with his eyebrows raised.

"Oh yeah, total Reidiac. You should give her an autograph." Emily winked. Spencer laughed and shook his head at their antics.

The conversation moved on, but you felt the dynamic between Spencer and you had changed, even when unspoken. When Penelope and Emily were caught up discussing cats, Spencer leaned against your side, whispering in your ear once more. Unlike last time, he didn't break the tension, even when telling another fact.

"Garcia called you my groupie earlier. Do you know the textbook definition of the term 'groupie'?" His voice was huskier than usual, coated with the alcohol and late hour. You shook your head timidly, urging him to continue.

"A groupie is typically explained as a young woman who regularly follows a celebrity, especially in the hope of having a sexual relationship with them." His lip brushed against your ear as he whispered the words. A cold chill went down your spine at his insinuation.

"You're no celebrity, Spence." You answered apprehensively. He didn't move, still leaning into your side, out of sight. You couldn't gauge his expression.

"Maybe not in the classic sense of the word. But I have a Wikipedia page. Surely, that amounts to some celebrity status." He joked. You closed your eyes, tension slowly disappearing after the vibe of the conversation changed back to casual banter.

Was he insinuating what you thought he was?

You got your answer as soon as the four of you headed to the hotel. You bid your goodbyes to Emily and Penelope before turning to put the keycard in the door to your room. You heard a couple of doors close, and just when you turned the handle, there was a hand on your shoulder, pushing you inside and closing the door. You whipped around, only to be faced with Spencer.

"Spenc-"

"You deflected earlier." He interrupted.

"Deflected what?" Your heart was racing. Whether from the shock of his sudden intrusion or the proximity, you weren't sure.

"The definition of a groupie. And how Garcia is right, you totally are one."

You gaped at the insinuation.

"Don't look shocked now! You are totally one of those girls who audit my class." He grinned.

"You wish! I'll have you know you were scrawny at best when you gave that one lecture I attended." You huffed, crossing your arms.

"Were scrawny? Past tense?" Spencer egged you on.

"Shut up. You know you've built up some muscle since then. Hell, maybe you even grew a couple of inches." You rolled your eyes.

Spencer decided to ignore the comment and put his hand in his pocket, fishing for something. He finally pulled something out, looking way too smug for his own good. "I brought a Sharpie. You know, for your autograph."

Fine. If he wasn't going to stop this ridiculous teasing, you were going to cross the 'groupie' line.

"Oh my god! I like, totally want your autograph, Spency!" You started, looking him dead in the eyes as your hands made their way to the hem of your shirt.

"Will you sign my tits?" You challenged, lifting your top far enough to expose your bra to its fullest extent.

Spencer obviously hadn't expected that, struggling to come up with a quick-witted response. You shrugged as you took the shirt off.

"I see. You require a larger surface area. I get it. Big ego, bigger signature." Spencer finally broke when you reached behind your back to unclasp your bra.

"Hey, hey. Stop. I can sign them like this just fine, sweetheart." You knew he was simply going along with the rockstar act, but the nickname sent blood rushing to your cheeks either way.

"Okay, hot shot." You smirked, pushing your chest out. He hadn't expected you to actually let him sign your chest. He scrambled to take the cap off. He stepped closer and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against him.

"Stand still. You want it to come out perfect, don't you?"

You held your breath when he brought the Sharpie up to your breasts. You looked at his face as he appeared laser-focused on giving you the best autograph of your life. Why was it that such a stupid joke felt like the most sensual experience of your life?

The tip of the Sharpie tickled as it danced across your chest. He finished the signature with a dot on the I in Reid.

"There, perfection." He whispered, but his eyes were no longer glued to your scantily clad upper body. You searched his face for hesitation but only found his determined gaze settled on your parted lips.

He made eye contact as if asking permission. You'd barely nodded before his hands cupped your face, and lips were on yours, sucking all the air out of your lungs. His body pressed up against your own, frantically shedding the layers keeping you separated. You kept kissing him while desperately reaching for his belt.

You hadn't noticed you'd slowly made your way to the bed in the back of the hotel room until Spencer pulled away to remove his tie. You let yourself fall onto the sheets, ridding yourself of your bottoms. They got stuck at your ankles as you forgot your shoes.

"I got it." Spencer's voice was unrecognisably hoarse. He kicked off his own shoes and made his way over to the bed in only his boxers. He tugged at your shoes after undoing the laces and discarded them somewhere in the room.

You'd never seen a sight quite like Spencer leaning over you as he rested one knee on the bed. He put his hand beside your face and you met his eyes. His head blocked the dim yellow ceiling light, lighting him perfectly from behind. It was ridiculous how angelic he could look, even in these stereotypically sinful circumstances.

"Are you sure about this?" Spencer asked. Always considerate. What a gentleman.

"I've been sure ever since that stupid lecture, dork." You joked. Spencer smiled and leaned down, placing a kiss under your ear. His breath was hot on your neck as he left a trail of kisses down your neck, down to his crudely placed signature.

You leaned on your elbows as Spencer reached behind your back to finally unclasp your bra. You let your back meet with the sheets again as he pulled the straps down your arms. You heard him take a deep breath as he took in the sight before him.

You pulled him down for another kiss, unsatiable now that you'd gotten a taste. His hands reached for your chest and experimentally pinched a nipple. You inhaled sharply through your nose. The combined sensation of his mouth and large hands on your body, as his hips sought more and more friction, was delectable.

His hands slowly reached further down, toying with the edge of your underwear.

"Don't tease." You whined, already too riled up.

"Patience is a virtue," Spencer murmured against the skin of your jaw, hooking his finger under the elastic band.

"Patience, my ass, Reid. I need you." It came out more desperate than you intended, but it seemed to do the trick. He yanked the underwear down your legs, followed by his own.

"Condom?" He asked. You shook your head.

"Don't care. I'm clean, and God knows you are. Wanna feel you." You answered, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Spencer laughed, taking his cock in his hand and running it through your folds.

"Have you met yourself? You won't even shake hands, Doct-oh, oh Jesus Christ." Spencer interrupted your banter by sliding inside in one go. You closed your eyes as you pulled him close, begging him to kiss you.

He slowly started moving as you regained your ragged breath. The low grunts falling from his lips against yours were magical, but you wanted more. Your fingers made their way up to his hair, tentatively tugging at the roots. Your grip tightened at a particularly harsh thrust, and Spencer's response was everything you were searching for.

"Holy fuck, oh my God- Uh-" His grunts slowly tuned whinier as you kept your grip on his hair. He brought a hand to your clit, rubbing circles in tandem with his thrusts.

"Look at me, baby." He moaned in your ear. He leaned back, and your eyes fluttered open, though with difficulty. Your instinct was to squeeze them shut with pleasure. He looked ravenous, pupils blown wide, panting with the physical effort.

You lazily wrapped your legs around his waist in an attempt to pull him even closer.

"Shit, Spencer," you moaned as the new angle reached a spot inside you you'd only ever dreamed of. Your eyes squeezed shut again, unable to keep them open. Spencer removed the hand rubbing your clit and moved it to your chin, placing a small kiss on your lips.

"Eyes on me, come on. I know you can do it." He encouraged. Something about his coercive tone let you know there was a side to Spencer you had yet to see. You opened your eyes and were met with the sight of his eyebrows furrowed with effort.

The noises coming from Spencer sped up along with the desperate pace of his hips. The combination of his whines with yours and the sound of skin on skin was anything but serene. You felt yourself nearing the edge, clawing at his back in an attempt to ground yourself.

"Spencer! Fuck, oh my god," it was hardly distinguishable what you were saying, mumbles of pleasure stringing together into an unintelligible mess. His cock slid again and again and- you couldn't take it.

Your hands left his hair in favour of running your nails harshly over his back. Spencer was seemingly a glutton for pain, moaning at the sensation.

"I- Shit, I'm gonna cum. D'you want me to pull out?" Spencer's thrust faltered. You knew you had to answer fast. You tightened your grip on him with your legs.

"Please, Spencer. Please come inside me. Want to feel you cum." You begged.

"Fuck, okay. Okay. O-" His head dropped down to your shoulder as his unrelenting hips sped up one more time, bringing you both to your high. You felt his cock twitch as your walls tightened around him.

"Spencer!" You shouted as you came, feeling him spill inside you.

"So good for me. So gorgeous. Perfect." Spencer mumbled as he peppered you with kisses, hips slowing down as he came down from his high. Your chest heaved, trying to catch your breath.

Spencer carefully pulled out, making sure not to spill anything and soil the sheets. He stepped off the bed and spread your legs, before leaning back down and licking a drop of cum threatening to spill.

"Shit, Spencer! Too sensitive!" You pushed his head away. He laughed before heading to the bathroom, returning with a dampened towel.

The nighttime routine that followed felt domestic. You peed, brushed your teeth, ignored the sight of his signature and hickies on your boobs, and headed to bed.

"Can I borrow your toothbrush?" Spencer asked from the bedroom. He hadn't asked to stay. But then again, you hadn't asked him to leave. You didn't want him to.

"You just licked your own cum from my vagina, and you ask if you can borrow my toothbrush? Be my guest, Reid." You scoffed, lying down under the sheets.

"Hey, people have their preferences, okay? Didn't want to overstep." Spencer said as he returned from the bathroom, lying down beside you.

Against your better judgement, Spencer stayed. You knew the entire team would be up and around, bright and early. But you didn't care. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you close as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

He left early the following morning. You were sure he hadn't had nearly enough beauty sleep. He could nap on the plane, you shrugged. There were no regrets from either party over the loss of sleep.

You hadn't thought too much about your outfit before heading down to breakfast. An honest mistake one can make when staying up late and getting up early. You were exhausted, let alone hung over. You realized your mistake when the ever-stoic eyes of Aaron Hotchner immediately snapped down to the tank top you were wearing the second you stepped out of the elevator, the words 'Spencer Reid' still obscenely sprawled across your chest, accompanied by several suspicious bruises.

Your eyes went wide as you followed his gaze, quickly zipping up your hoodie. How could you possibly have forgotten that part? You met Hotch's eyes. Before you could try to babble yourself out of this one, he held up a hand to stop you. "I don't want to know."

You clenched your lips as you nodded. "Noted, bossman."

The small smile tugging at the corner of his lips didn't escape you, and neither did the exchange of money between him and Rossi not 5 minutes later.

2K notes · View notes

asteroshearts · 6 months

Text

My Type

Oh no! Nanami's wife is just Itadori's type!

Or the story of how, upon meeting Nanami's wife, Itadori just can't take his eyes off her.

Nanami x Reader

Tags: this story was referenced here, but can be read completely alone, she/her pronouns, discussions of body types, Itadori's a bit of a pervert here (but he doesn't actually see anything!! Nanami, however, ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)), typical anime flashing

Hey Ken: How are you feeling?

You: Like shit My fever got worse after you left

Hey Ken: I'll be home soon. Please take ibuprofen, drink lots of water, and rest as much as you can. I'm finishing up now.

You: I just checked our cabinet We ran out of Bufferin UGHHHH I feel terrible I fucking told Daiki from accounting that he should go home if he was coughing but he said it was fine AND COUGHED IN MY FACE And now look at me

Hey Ken: We're out? I'll pick some up on my way home while I grab our other groceries. Please wait for me until then. Take a nap if you can. You're just going to get more exhausted thinking of the idiots in your office.

You: I looked online, delivery is going to take over an hour I'm getting dizzier I don't want to wait I'm going to go to the Matsukiyo near us to get it myself

Hey Ken: What?

Hey Ken: Don't go. I'll pick it up.

Hey Ken: Darling. Read my messages.

Hey Ken: Pick up the phone.

(10) Missed Calls

Several moments ago…

Itadori already thought that today got off to a weird start.

To begin with, it wasn't Ijichi in the driver's seat to pick him up today, but Nanamin. It also wasn't the Jujutsu Tech standard vehicle, but a nice, sleek, and expensive Porsche.

"W-Woah! Nanamin!" Itadori called then. Eyes wide and bright at the polished paint that glistened in the heavy sunlight. "Nice ride!" he said giddily, running his fingers across the aerodynamic doors. Popping his head up toward Nanami's window, he said, "This must've cost you a fortune!" And he thought that Gojo-sensei spent crazily.

"It was a gift," Nanami flatly said. The boy gaped at him like a fish. But who would just give away a car like this? They had to be really close — or maybe he had saved some rich guy and he thanked Nanamin by giving him a brand new car! The boy's eyes shone. Maybe one day he could get a nice gift like — "Get in." The doors unlocked.

"Hiya, Ijichi-san! Must be nice not driving for once, huh?" While marveling at the car's clean interior, he hopped into the back seat, feeling the leather under his hands and the cool blast of the AC hit his sweaty hair after being in the summer sun.

"Good morning, Itadori-kun," the dark-haired man said with a nervous smile. The car rumbled beneath them as Nanami turned the engine back on. "Nanami-san is surely giving me a nice change of pace — "

"Our duties will not change," Nanami stated, turning the wheel. "Ijichi-san is still required to do his job, as well as you, Itadori-kun. Don't get distracted." The pink-haired boy pouted in the backseat. "It just so happens that I have urgent errands to run after this, so time is of the essence."

Turning into an alleyway, Nanami smoothly hit the brakes and put the car into park. "Let's go."

Luckily for him, the curse was a low-level one mostly used for teaching Itadori the ropes, and the two of them managed to exorcise it in record time. For someone who was just thrust into the world of curses several weeks ago, he was doing well. As well as anyone could in his situation.

The boy was still a bumbling newbie, but he had a good head on his shoulders and was a strong opponent for most curses that they dealt with on a daily basis. Lips twitching into a frown, the blond thought that if Gojo didn't poison the youth's mind, surely Yuji would continue having a nice and mature head on his shoulders.

Nanami had to drop Ijichi off at his next assignment, but other than that, all he needed was to drop Itadori off at the college and then he could return to his sick wife. Paperwork still needed to be done, but luckily he could finish that at a later time. Unfortunately, last night you had a major headache and showed signs of an upcoming sickness this morning.

He had just barely convinced you to not do remote work and just take the day off to rest instead. However, as he checked on his messages with you, he found out that you were insisting on double — no, triple mask to go to the pharmacy yourself. All while you had a 37.5-degree fever.

He tried to call you once, thrice, and all of them were left for voicemail.

Cursing inwardly, Nanami leaned his head back on the headrest. Normally, the blond man was the arbiter of restraint and level-headed thinking, but all of that went out the door at the mere thought of his sickly wife dragging herself out in the street to get some medication. Why did you have to be so stubborn?

"My apologies, Itadori-kun." Nanami pushed up his glasses. "I need to take a detour before I drop you off at your dorm. I apologize for the inconvenience."

The boy blinked owlishly. "Oh that's alri — GH!"

Without another word, Nanami quickly turned left, jolting the teen to the side from the momentum, increasing the speed of his vehicle, and raced down the streets.

Within five minutes, Itadori felt like a dog left in the car as his "owner" raced into the nearest grocery store to grab medication, vegetables, and grains for the upcoming, proverbial storm. Even as the cashier tried their hardest to ignore the intense stare of the tall blond man before them, every second that ticked by as they scanned his purchase felt like hours.

As soon as he nearly threw his money on the tray and took all of the grocery bags under his toned arms, Nanami was off again, shifting into drive and ignoring the speed limit all the way back home.

Nanami could've nearly run into his apartment's chain-link garage doors if it had lifted any slower, allowing him access to his own underground parking before he landed in his designated parking spot within three seconds.

Racing out the car, he took all of the grocery bags over one muscular arm and was prepared to run off until he remembered he had a teen in the backseat.

"Itadori-kun," he said hurriedly. "Can you — " The man stopped himself short.

He originally planned to tell the boy to wait for him in the car, but caught sight of the boy's skin gleaming with sweat, reflecting one of the garage's low lights. Summer was brutal right now, with insane humidity that made Itadori's hair damp as if he had just taken a dunk in water. Even though the parking garage was cooler than it was outside, it was still unbearably hot, not to mention cruel, if he had forced the teen to just sit here and deal with it. Itadori had already waited in the hot car when he went out to grab groceries, and although he rolled the windows down, suddenly Nanami remembered all of the articles of puppies and toddlers dying in the back of cars during the summer.

Sighing, the man pushed his glasses up. "Behave yourself. Come with me."

"Ken?" Eyes wide, you held the door open. Keys were lifted up in the air in the man's hands, but you had beat him to the chase and opened the door before he managed to get the key in the keyhole. "Oh! I didn't know that you were bringing a guest." Stepping back quickly, you realized another person was standing behind your husband. "If I had known, I would've worn a surgeon mask!" Alert, you said. "Hold on, I'll go grab one right now — !"

"No need. We'll make this fast." He was about to take a step forward, but then realized that the student hadn't moved an inch ever since you opened the door. "Itadori-kun?"

As still as a statue, pink slowly rose from the boy's neck all the way up to the tips of his ears. He couldn't rip his gaze from you for even a second. Although your hair wasn't done and your face was covered, he could tell just how beautiful you were.

Furthermore, you looked just like the pin-up models he had in his room — you were just his type! Your little chemise barely ended at the middle of your thigh, and although everything important was covered up, it left little to the imagination with how the fabric hugged your waist and hips. As you held the door open for them and leaned forward, the loose triangle top of your nightgown was teasing him with the exposed curves and valleys of your chest.

You were too hot!

"Itadori-kun," Nanami repeated, irritated.

Way too hot for Nanamin!

"Nanamin! You didn't tell me that you were married!" Eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets, Itadori almost thought they had gotten the wrong apartment when you had just opened the door. While his mentor was an attractive man, it was like a mountain and a molehill to the teenager. Not to mention that this strict and serious ex-salaryman was hitched! To a babe no less!

Certainly, you didn't marry for personality!

He couldn't imagine what your daily life was like while Nanamin talked about doing the bare minimum and never smiled.

Raising an eyebrow, Nanami followed Itadori's stare to your state of dress. You weren't even wearing your indoor slippers, and you were absolutely breathtaking even if you had a dark clay mask over your face. He wasn't an idiot, and he could feel his blood vessels pumping harshly. Trying to remind himself with mantras of how Itadori was just a stupid, hormonal teenager, and you could dress how you wanted, and that he especially couldn't beat up Itadori. Pinching his nose bridge, the man couldn't even look at the boy. "My personal life and my work life are completely separate. I wouldn't anno — !"

"But you don't even wear a wedding ring!" Itadori insisted.

"Why would I wear my rings when my daily job involves fighting and getting messy?" Nanami rhetorically asked, stepping through your door with all the groceries in one go. "Wedding and engagement rings are investments, and I'd be damned if I lose my rings and be forced to inflate the wedding ring industry any more than I already have."

Grinning, you beamed at Itadori. Only you really know how seriously Nanami took the "three month's salary on rings" tradition, especially on his sorcerer's salary. "Now you know, Itadori-kun! If you catch him committing adultery while he's out without his ring, you'll shank him for me, right?" Placing both of your hands on your husband's waist, you laughed when you playfully tried to shake him. Of course, that didn't do much. Your man continued to stand there like a stone statue, as if you tried to rock a brick wall while he remained wholly unamused.

From your weak roughhousing, all that managed to do was drop your spaghetti strap from your shoulder. With your dress threatening to slip, Nanami sighed and quickly stood in front of you, blocking your body from Itadori's gaze. He carefully and slowly pulled your shoulder strap back up your body before you managed to flash the poor teen. When you looked up, his brown eyes met with yours.

Gently rubbing your bare shoulder with his large hand, he asked, "I thought you said you were going to Matsukiyo?"

"I was," you rasped out, voice raw from all the coughing you did. "But then I took one step outside and it was too damn hot." Laughing weakly, you said, "I slunk back like a vampire the second the humidity hit me."

The man sighed deeply, and his shoulders dropped in relief and exhaustion. While he ran around like a chicken with its head cut off from worry, he was glad that you ended up not going out after all.

"Why didn't you pick up my calls?" he said deeply, leaning in close enough for you to feel his breath on your ear.

"I was making okayu with kombu," you explained. "Sorry," you said genuinely, "that's all I managed to make for our dinner today."

"I'm upset that you cooked in the first place," Nanami scolded. "You should be resting. I said I'd take care of it. Why were you in the kitchen when the hot fumes could make your fever even worse?" Turning away from his nagging, you pouted.

"I'm hungry though…" you mumbled, far too much like a spoiled child, and Nanami was sure, in some way, that you were spoiled, of his making too. He always prioritized you and let you have your way. "And I already ate the miyeok guk you made."

"You could've ordered delivery," the man countered.

"Nothing interested me there."

Inhaling deeply once more, Nanami tried to calm the upcoming headache he felt. There was no point in arguing with you, not when you were coughing and sick like this. "Stay here. I'm going to whip up a bowl of okayu to have with your medicine," the man ordered before he picked up a blanket you had draped over one of your couches and wrapped you in it like a burrito. When you opened your mouth, your husband only sternly repeated, "Stay."

Playfully rolling your eyes when he left to go to the kitchen, you puffed out your cheeks in mock irritation. Closing the door to your apartment so the AC couldn't escape anymore, you turned to the teen who was standing awkwardly in your home.

"Aw I'm sorry," you said, voice sounding like sandpaper again. "You know, Kento's kinda strict, but I assure you he's a good man," you said gently. "Thank you so much for taking care of him."

"M-Me?" Itadori sputtered. "I'm not the one taking care of him! He takes care of me! Um…" The boy grew demure when he realized he had no way to address you.

"Oh," you realized you didn't introduce yourself. "I apologize! I totally forgot! I know you since Ken talks about you and Ino all the time, but I didn't realize you didn't know me!"

Itadori gasped. "He talks about me?!"

"Of course! All good things!" you assured. "Even though Kento seems like a meanie, he's a genuine person and wouldn't exaggerate, so he wouldn't praise you unless he absolutely meant it." You knew that this was the teen that hosted Sukuna, the King of Curses. It was a heavy burden for someone who wasn't even an adult yet, and your heart grew heavy at the thought of this boy's fate.

"Before I forget…" Quickly, you ran to your bathroom and cleaned off your clay face mask before you returned with your bare face wet and a cloth Pompompurin headband keeping your hair out of the way. "I need to introduce myself."

Now Itadori was sure that you two were married with the way you introduced yourself nearly identically to your husband. With your back straight and shoulders squared, hands flat, and arms straight at your side, you closed your eyes and bowed.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Itadori-kun." You acquired your business card out of thin air and held it out for the boy. "My name is Nanami [Name], and I'm a senior project manager at Yurukawa Corp. If you or your friends ever get tired of exorcising curses and want to look into engineering, you can ask me!"

Huh?

It was too silent.

When you rose and looked up, you realized that your husband had suddenly materialized out of nowhere. Standing in between you and Itadori, your husband's stern expression could freeze hell over as he stared down at Itadori with a frown, arm outstretched and his hand held up — right where Itadori's eyes would've seen your cleavage when you bent over to bow.

"Itadori-kun."

"Y-Yes!"

"We are going. Now."

The car was completely silent the entire way to the dorm rooms. Quickly shifting the car into park, Itadori jumped at the sudden stop.

No one said a word. The entire ride felt like the air was heavy enough to drown in.

"Itadori-kun." Nanami's eyes were hidden by the reflection in his glasses.

"…Yes?" the boy squeaked out, pressing his index fingers together.

"Never ogle my wife again."

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk nanami #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #nanami

849 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 9 months

Text

savanaclaw light novel: the importance of introspection

I’ve previously discussed how TWST benefits from telling us the same story across different mediums. Different mediums provide different benefits over others, and some can “patch up” rougher bits of story or add more detail to them. The game is interactive and serves as a baseline for most new content. The manga is able to have far more freedom of movement and expression due to being visual-heavy. And last, but not least, a light novel, which is mostly text, has the boon of letting us see more of each character’s thoughts and feelings. We can elaborate on what the game already established and understand the characters on a deeper level.

I would say that the light novel’s format will most benefit the OB boys, as they are the ones who will go through the biggest character arcs in the main story. Because the game’s story is told via mostly dialogue and some sound effects, we rarely, if ever, get a clear understanding of what the OB boys are truly thinking and feeling outside of their brief post-OB flashbacks. The same goes for the manga, which has limited pages to tell its story, so it has to keep a certain pace. But a light novel? Well, you can go ham there with an omniscient narrator.

Today, I want to talk about Leona’s expanded post-OB introspection in the second volume of the light novel as an example of this. Then I will combine it with the information we have from the game and see how the light novel complements what already we know of his character thanks to hindsight. (I’ll be referencing this fan translation if you want to read and follow along!)

First thing’s first! From the game, we know that Leona enrolled in Night Raven College one year late (and then got held back a year, which makes sense considering he is 20 in the main story present). He didn't find a use in attending school since he, by royal birth, was able to afford all the best tutors in the world and didn't think NRC had anything left to teach him. In Leona's Birthday Boy vignettes, he further specifies that he decided to enroll at NRC after Cheka was born. As Leona says in his post-OB flashback in-game, Cheka's birth means "the despised second son loses what little claim he had to the throne forever", essentially putting an end to his hopes. This would imply that this specific change in circumstance was the push that made Leona want to physically distance himself from home. Furthermore, it's supported by Leona's other behaviors: he does not take calls or read letters from home if he can help it (implied by Cheka asking why Leona doesn't answer his letters and Cheka calling on Halloween night to catch up with him; Leona lies and quickly hangs up), he makes excuses to avoid going home (as Kifaji states), etc. If we want to extrapolate even more, how is it that Leona, second born prince, initially crossed paths with Ruggie, who was born and raised in the slums (which, I imagine, must be quite some distance away from the royal palace)? This makes me think that even before Leona enrolled at NRC he would leave his housing and roam around, finding alternative places to stay because home just felt too uncomfortable and suffocating for him. There's also the implication that Leona often brooded over his circumstances, as he confesses to thinking about it and going to NRC to get his mind away from the tired cycle--although he also acknowledges that he's running away from "the pain" of having lost the throne.

The distancing would prove itself to be beneficial to his mental health, as Leona cites that his heart started feeling lighter, his restlessness dulled, and his pain numbed. With the throne out of sight, so, too, was it out of mind, and his longing softened. But that same haunting despair returns when another group starts to place expectations on him. This time, it's no longer the palace servants, but his own dorm members. Instead of fear and derision, his new pack looks at him, their "king", with desperateness--and, more importantly, hope. Speaking about the future with sparkling eyes. That, in turn, made Leona hopeful too. He can't let these people who look up to him and rely on him down, so he must do anything to win. That's all he ever wanted: to win, just this once. No matter what, he wants to win.

But when Leona's plans crumble, that crushing sense of despair rears its ugly head. He fails. And he suddenly understands that all his efforts will always amount to nothing, that they will always be meaningless, that there is no future for him. Leona's hopes have been dashed. He has been struck down by the world once again, just as he had started to climb up, fighting tooth and nail, to prove himself. Yet when defeat came, he also claims it doesn't bother him as much as he thought he would--perhaps because he's so accustomed to not winning, because maybe this is the outcome he had expected all along in the deepest recesses of his heart. That familiar disappointment begins to hurt him once more, and Leona wants to forget it all, to retreat to the shadows and to lick his wounds, to be far away from that pain.

One interesting new detail we glean from the light novel is that Leona is terrified by his dorm mates staring at him with hopeful eyes. It's not their expectations he's inherently scared of, but what those expectations can do to him. Leona is scared of himself, of being motivated by others to act, to never give up hope, when he still anticipates being beat down again and again by a world that rejects him and denies him. He even goes so far as to say he would be pathetic if he let his dorm mates' words inspire him and keep his waning hope alive. Ruggie, who had wanted to turn the world upside down together. Jack, who was inspired by his play three years back. All the mobs putting faith in their futures on him, their one and only leader. With so many people looking to him, how can he not be swayed by that positivity that had once been so elusive to him? How could that not ignite what little spark of hope is left in him? And that's exactly what Leona finds so dangerous about it. He's lived almost his entire life being put in his place, hurt every time he tried to demonstrate what he could do, how he could contribute--yet time and time again, here comes life, tempting him to try again, just to inevitably be compared to his brother and kicked down, delivering another blow to his pride and his self-image. Leona truly seems to hate himself for not being able to let go of that small fragment of hope he has left. He wants so badly to give up and not have to worry anymore about something he can never obtain. He's so tired of struggling and suffering for nothing. If he just caved, then he would never be hurt again. He can't be hurt if he doesn't care about anything. Yet no matter how much he wishes or tries, he can't run far enough away to detach himself from those expectations of grandeur, of being something more.

There's been many fan theories about Leona's mental health in circulation well before the release of this light novel, many of which mention self-loathing in spite of how proud and confident he typically presents as. You'd have to read in-between the lines of dialogue from the game to draw these clues out, whereas the light novel lays it more bare to you. It hits very differently reading hateful statements made by the character to himself. Leona calls himself all sorts of things: a fool, pathetic, insignificant, boring. That he isn't strong, that he isn't wise, that he's not loved. (In the in-game flashback, Leona also talks in a self-deprecating way, but to a far lesser extent than in the light novel; we also see that Falena does his best to discourage Leona from this kind of behavior.) That this is who he is, that it's the one thing he's afraid to admit and accept--but he also says he lacks the "strength" to give up. That's why Leona would rather run away than confront that potential truth. The option to embrace complete nihilism just isn't possible for him, because he can't just quash that pesky little thing called hope. This is much more complex than what's explained in the games and demonstrates a maturity and degree of self-reflection from Leona that we've never seen before. What's more, this gives us brand new context with which to view many of his other seemingly mundane actions mentioned in the game. At face value, Leona often acts very callously and doesn't care to help others unless he gets some kind of benefit from it (like agreeing to poof the contracts in book 3 just because he has his own deal he wants to get rid of). We see this time and time again when he instructs others reliant on him or less knowledgeable than he is in various matters where he is well-read and experienced with. For example, he takes note of his club members' strengths and weaknesses and offers tailored advice to help them improve their play. He tells others how to mine magestones of an adequate size in Vargas Camp. Maybe he's just doing these things to make the circumstances easier for himself (so he can put forth less effort to leading them in a game, or so he can nap heartily). But from what we've just learned from the light novel, now I'm suspecting a different secondary motive.

What if... Leona is, in part, encouraging and helping others to hone their own skills to subconsciously compensate for what he doesn't believe he himself is capable of? Because there's still so much hope for his dorm mates, for his underclassmen... (and, let's not forget, it was those in Savanaclaw that first motivated Leona to "try" again for the first time in forever) but he doesn't have that same amount of hope for himself. I get these vibes as late as book 6, when Leona and Jamil have a talk. In their conversation, Leona directs many pointed, blunt words at Jamil--words that could very easily also be thrown back at Leona's face and be applicable to his book 2 self. He accuses Jamil of making excuses so he won't have to actually act, just as Leona has continuously run away from uncomfortable situations to put himself at ease. At one point, I believe Leona event states that Jamil “*isn’t like [me]”, Here, again, it can be argued that we're seeing Leona's self-awareness on display, as well as a willingness to warn others to not follow down the same path he once treaded, to lose all hope in the future. Again, it's done with a double purpose: the other one being to get Jamil out of his way while they're exploring. And (of course) Leona's way of expressing his message is gruff and not very warm, not to Jamil and certainly not to himself. He's become prickly and defensive himself after all of his experiences--but that just adds to the complexity of his character when we synthesize what we know of him from TWST multimedia.

I really wish a lot of what was in the light novel post-Leona OB was also in the game. It would have helped to flesh out Leona's motivations and fears, which book 2 was sorely needing. As he is presented now, he appears shallow and selfish in his goals, and we don't fully understand the emotions spurring him on, a lot of which is genuine self-loathing and the sinking despair that comes with thinking you're not enough and you'll never be enough. That would have been so much more relatable than the in-game Leona having himself a pity party with a great amount of emphasis on the throne--a throne which, in actuality, just symbolizes a desire for recognition, love, and acceptance. It was never about explicitly being king. It was about being seen as his own person and appreciated for it instead of being admonished and compared to his exalted older brother.

Now, as an adult, Leona has become someone who pushes away those who try to give him that which he craves. He sees a lot of people--his own family and his dorm mates, the closest thing he has to friends--as dangers to his own mental wellbeing. He's scared to let them in, so he's built up these emotional, arrogant walls around himself. Think at how often he rejects advice from Falena and refuses Cheka's affection for him. Look at how this behavior extends beyond those who are keeping him from a literal throne and to his classmates. They instill hope in him, hope which scares Leona. The things he has wanted all his life are now poison that chips away at him. Considering all of that together, it makes Leona's story far more tragic than how it was initially shown to us in the game alone. But guess what? That can also become his strength, fuel for his character arc. Leona isn't running anymore. He's actually returning home for winter break in book 4. He's determined to not get held back again. He's committing to an internship in a field (an energy lab) which will immensely help his country (which is rich in natural resources). All of this, coming from a young man who once acted bitter when his older brother suggested that there were many things Leona could do with his intelligence to benefit their homeland. Leona is making slow strides and steady progress toward a future he used to think was unattainable for him. From that darkness, he's rising anew--like the sun upon the savanna.

710 notes · View notes

dotster001 · 9 months

Note

It makes me want to read something sad. For example, there is a celebration at the college, but Remshekle does not participate in it because it is not official. Crowley tells MC and Grim that they can't participate in the preparations for the holiday and come to it because they are banned. MC agrees, but is still upset. What happened next I can't think of, but I would like some angst. How will the dorm leaders react to this?

That's What Friends are For

A/N: Hopefully this is what you were looking for. I got some angst in there, but also comedy and a nice ending, even if it's not the expected ending. I'm not super good at solely angst 😂

3k follower Masterlist

"Due to budgeting constraints, we cannot allow unofficial dorms to participate in founder's day activities."

"Oh. Okay. I understand. That's fine. I get it."

"I appreciate your benevolence with this decision."

You stood up from your seat, and left Crowley's office.

You knew that you were living here for free, in an unofficial dorm, nonetheless, so really that you could even be allowed to attend the festival at all was generous in itself. But your friends had been going on and on about the stuff they got to present, and the new costumes they would get to wear that represented the icon of their dorm.

You were honestly more upset that you'd have to tell Grim. He had been so excited to have a cool new outfit. His sad little face would just devastate you.

But you'd get through it. And maybe he'd understand. One day.

….

"Where is my child of man?" Malleus asked. He had finally been informed about a housewarden meeting, and was distraught that his favorite person seemed not to be present.

"Ramshackle is not participating in the founders day parade," The headmage said off hand as he continued to inspect the paperwork Azul had brought forth regarding the founders day buffet menu.

"Pardon?" Riddle seemed startled.

"With having to feed, house, and teach them on our dime, the Ramshackle budget, which was nearly non-existent as an unofficial dorm, is completely drained."

"But it's founders day. Ramshackle was there at the opening, wasn't it?" Leona said with a glare, sparking some widened eyes around the table.

"Yes, but-"

"You only have an 800th anniversary once!" Kalim burst out. "I can pay for their outfits and exhibits if I need to!"

"As could any one of us at this table. And everyone of us would without a second thought," Vil mused. "So I think something else must be going through that bird brain of yours."

Crowley stood from his place at the table, feathers clearly ruffled.

"How dare you insinuate anything less than benevolence on my part! I am simply trying to care for this school-"

"You didn't think about it, did you? Lmao," Idia's tablet cackled.

Crowley's jaw opened and closed a couple of times, before he said, "I am aware of the monetary situation of our housewarden, I just did not wish to infringe upon-"

"Damn, the turnip was right. You really didn't even think about it," Leona laughed.

"So we'll fund their part of the festival. What is our next topic?" Malleus sighed out in relief. He didn't want to even be part of this festival without you. The stares and whispers without your gentle reassurances would be overwhelming.

"No, no, the decision is final. Besides, Ramshackle doesn't have a known founder. Whoever they are was lost to time!" Crowley snapped, clearly embarrassed, and also very stubborn.

"-They can just dress in the Queen of Hearts' inspired attire-"

"-Obviously they will borrow clothing from my grandmother's collection.-"

"-They would look fetching in the fairest Queen's robes.-"

Three voices spoke up at once, and all three turned to glare at each other.

"See! This is why they can't participate! Ramshackle's participation will only sow dissent amongst you. Now let's move on!" Crowley cried, beginning to sweat from the rising hostility levels.

"Oh, shut it!" Leona snapped, before turning back to the housewardens. "It's obvious they'd look the best in an outfit designed after the king of beasts."

"Imagine how op they'd look designed after the god of the dead!" Idia mused behind the tablet, seemingly not realizing he hadn't muted himself.

"Probably not as "op" as if they looked like an octo mer," Azul hissed through a tight smile. "Imagine the radiance and brilliance of-"

"Both of you are gross," Vil snapped.

"Why are they gross?" Kalim asked.

"Because they don't care about the festival, anymore. They just want to see Y/N in looks they find hot, and can slobber over" Leona grinned.

"Like your intentions are oh so pure!" Idia's tablet screeched.

The table erupted into shouts, the meeting long forgotten as Crowley curled up in a ball in his chair.

Meanwhile….

"We've all discussed it," Ace said as he sat on your bed. It seemed he was the appointed spokesperson of the first year crew.

"We aren't going to let the two of you wallow in despair while we have fun. So we aren't going to have fun either," he said with his signature grin splitting his face.

"None of us are going to participate in the festival!" Ortho interrupted, clearly too excited to wait for Ace to be dramatic.

"Damn it, Ortho! I was supposed to say it!" Ace pouted.

"Language! He's a child!" Sebek hissed.

"He's in advanced potionomics with the third years. He'll be fine," Epel rolled his eyes.

"But you were all so excited to participate," you said, covering Grim's mouth to keep him from immediately agreeing to their thought process without a second thought.

"It's not fun without you," Jack muttered, looking anywhere but you.

"Look, like it or not, you've woven yourselves so tightly into our lives that we wouldn't enjoy ourselves if you weren't a part of it!" Deuce stated factually, his cheeks turning red as he realized what he said.

"So, like they all said, we aren't going to wear any cool costumes, or work at an exhibit, or eat at an all you can eat buffet-"

"IT'S ALL YOU CAN EAT?" Grim screamed.

"Because we're gonna boycott the whole thing and have fun doing something else," Ace finished with a glare.

"Forget it Y/N. Forget them!" Grim cupped your face with his paws, looking earnestly into your eyes. "There's an all you can eat buffet! I don't need a fancy costume! Let's go to the buffet!"

You gently shifted Grim to your lap, and scratched his ears. "You guys, I don't know what to say. That's so sweet of all of you!"

"Yeah, we're pretty cool," Epel grinned.

"Buffet…" Grim sadly trailed off, knowing he'd lost.

"And we can find even cooler outfits while we're out!" Ortho cheered, excitement clear as he buzzed quickly around the room.

"Honestly, it was less about the outfits, and more about feeling left out," you said with a sad smile.

"We know," Ace grinned, playfully nudging you with his shoulder.

"It's alright, we can beat up Crowley so he lets you participate next year," Deuce grinned maniacally, wrapping an arm around your other shoulder as he sat next to you, nuzzling his head against yours when you set it on his shoulder.

"Besides, if I let my Liege's dearest friend be sad, what kind of knight would I be!" Sebek said with a grin.

"Dude, don't pretend this is just about Malleus. You totally were about to cry when you heard they were sad."

"NO I WASN'T!"

You giggled, watching as your idiot friends began to yell at one another. This was what you really would have been disappointed to miss. But luckily, thanks to how amazing they were, and how much they cared about you, you wouldn't have to miss it.

#3k followers #twisted wonderland

495 notes · View notes

thewulf · 1 year

Text

Absolutely Gorgeous || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Anyways what if they meet a teacher from base like she teaches at the school on base at the bar but she’s not drinking just hanging out! Like how do you think that would go? Read Rest Here

A/N: Back at it with my favorite man!! Hope you guys enjoy! As always, thank you for the request!!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 3.1k +

“Finally!” Your co-worker, Molly, squealed as she put the overflowing binder down on her desk, “Three months of freedom!”

Grinning you nodded your head along with her, “They’re not that bad, Molls.”

She had to suppress the eye roll she wanted to give you, “You had a class of little fourth grade angels. I had those sixth-grade demons all year long.”

Your laughter filled up Molly’s empty classroom, “Fair. They were probably my best class yet.”

She nodded her head, “Sometimes you get lucky like that. Was not my year.”

“Maybe next? What grade are you teaching anyway?” The two of you began to walk out of the building for the last time this summer. That was until you needed to get the decorations hung for the next school year.

She shrugged, “Haven’t been assigned yet.”

You nodded along thinking to yourself. The school on base was… tiny. Itty bitty. It was a miracle it even functioned. It was another miracle there were enough students to keep the place running. But they did. And it kept you employed. You’d only been teaching for the last three years, still trying to find your groove. You’d stumbled upon this job in your search and couldn’t believe it actually paid a decent wage. So, you took it and ran.

“Hey, are you coming to the Hard Deck tonight?” She asked once the two of you got to the almost desolate parking lot. Just your two cars and the principals left.

You shrugged, “Wasn’t planning to.” It’s not that you hated going it was just horribly overwhelming for you almost every time you went. It always ended the same damn way every single time. You’d get all dressed up, put too much makeup on and then get ignored. The friends you’d come with would always, always, find a man to talk to leaving you in limbo. It wasn’t for a lack of trying either. You tried so hard to just strike up a conversation with anybody only to be left or once again, ignored.

It hurt at first. Then you got used to it. You’d, unfortunately, had gotten used to being alone in a really crowded place. So, you just started going out with them less and less. You loved them. The group of friends you’d found in San Diego was like nothing you’d had before. You didn’t even think yourself as unattractive. It’s just when you stood next to them you’d looked incredibly average. Average and boring. Which was fine, it just got a little old when the hot pilot would be chatting up everybody but you.

“You should come!” Molly squeezed your bicep trying to convince you with a cheerful gaze crossing her eyes, “It’ll be so fun. All of the teachers are planning on coming!”

You had to bite your lip from the instant scowl that wanted to cross your face, “I’ll have to think about it.”

She shook her head, “That means no. Come on Y/N! Please?” Hey big blue eyes turned down as she gave you a silent pout.

It was really hard to say no to Molly. She was so kind, sweet and so damn infectious you just wanted to say, “Yeah, sure. I can come for a little. You know I don’t drink though, right?”

She nodded, “I know, it’s still nice to have you there. You keep our heads level and in check.”

You only laughed a little. You decided to call off drinking back in college. You’d had too many hospital visits for alcohol poisoning that even you got embarrassed. You just never seemed to be able to control yourself. You’d tried. For years you’d tried. But you’d always, always, without fail would take it one step too far. That’s when you decided to quit. You became an entirely different person that you hated when you drank.

“Somebody has to.”

She squeezed your arm. That’s who she was. She loved giving physical affection. At any chance she could she’d give a hug or squeeze an extremity. Only if you were comfortable with it though. She made sure of it though.

“I’m so glad you’re coming! We’re meeting at six. A bunch of pilots just got back from a mission too. Shelly told us last night.” She clapped all too excitedly.

Great. Just great. Hopefully Penny was working. That’d give you somebody to talk to. Giving her a slight head bob, you hoped it would come off as excited, “That’ll make for an interesting night.”

She shot you a wink, “You don’t know the half of it. Alright, see you tonight?” She headed for her car after stopping at yours to finish up the conversation.

“Yeah, see you tonight.” You hopped in your car already feeling the dread of tonight. You’d just leave before the sun set. That’s all you needed to do. It’d be alright.

You were already regretting committing once you parked your car. Maybe you could just bail now? Fake an illness? But then the literal two hours you spent getting ready would be for null.

Sighing you decided to just walk in. It’d be fine. You looked nice. Opted for a pretty floral sundress. It was far too hot to even contemplate putting shorts on. So, a dress it was. This time a sigh of relief escaped your mouth seeing Penny behind the bar with a few other bartenders.

“Y/N!” You spotted Molly waving at you frantically. The three girls already sitting at the bar with a drink in hand. They all looked beyond beautiful. It came naturally for Molly. You knew you were slightly jealous of the girl, who wouldn’t be though? Shelly brought her friend Erin. Who both looked stunning. It wouldn’t be long now before each girl would get plucked. Might as well enjoy the time you had with them all.

“Hey pretty ladies.” You hugged each one before sitting next to Molly. You jumped right into the conversation with the girls finding yourself quickly engaged with the drama Erin was telling the group about.

Not long after you finished your first soda Shelly was getting chatted up. That was quicker than normal. The sun wouldn’t even be setting for another few hours yet. Maybe you’d have to make your great escape far sooner than you planned too.

Being so wrapped up in your own thoughts you hadn’t even heard the pilot slowly approach the bar next to you. He’d even ordered and all before he attempted to grab your attention. You caught Jakes attention almost immediately when he heard your friend call for you. He’d never been so entranced by somebody so damn quickly. He knew immediately he’d have to approach you.

He'd watched you for longer than even he’d care to admit. But how could you blame him? Your smile nearly took his breath away. His attention was so drawn away from the conversation that he didn’t even hear rooster make a snide remark. His eyes remained on you from across the bar. He was being beyond creepy, and he knew it. But for the first time in his life, he almost felt nervous at the thought of approaching you. Nervous of the thought of you rejecting him. He honestly didn’t know if he could take it. He’d never felt anything so strongly before without even talking to you.

“Whatcha drinking darlin’? I can get you another one.” Jake smiled softly. He’d decided to play down his usual overt flirtyness not wanting to scare you off. As often as it worked sometimes he did get turned down

You looked down at your glass realizing you were out. Then you decided to look at the face that the voice came from. He was handsome. So very handsome. That was without question. But he surely wasn’t talking to you. Nobody ever talked to you. So you turned away waiting to hear the conversation go on.

You waited a second not hearing a response but turning back to the pilot who was looking at you like he was waiting for an answer, “Me?” You’d asked with the utmost confusion.

He chuckled softly, “Yeah you. Who else?”

You peaked around and shrugged, “Not sure.” You’d admitted.

He brushed it off, “So? A drink?”

You nodded, he’s harmless you were sure of it, “Sure. Soda.”

A smile broke out onto his face as he tried to flag down a bartender, “Mind if I have a seat?” He asked you, not wanting to assume like he had so many times before. He had a feeling you were different. Whatever the hell that meant. But he knew one thing. He felt different. Nervous. Anxious.

You shook you head quickly. Almost on instinct, “No, not at all.” He didn’t seem to judge you in the least for your drink of choice. That often alienated people even further. What weirdo orders a soda at the bar? You. You did. You just pretended it was a jack and coke or something. It was easier that way.

You felt an elbow to your side. It had to have been Molly pushing you along. When you turned to snap at her she was walking away, waving, “We’re going to sit outside!” She winked knowing you were trapped. You were far too cowardly to run away so quickly so you decided to stay. But you felt far too cowardly to stay too. It had to be a sick joke or something now. Why would this gorgeous man want anything to do with you? Especially when Molly and Erin were right there.

“Thanks sweetheart.” He only smiled seeing you look straight ahead. Either you were shy or incredibly standoffish. He had to assume the earlier. Especially with how seemingly friendly you’d already been to him. It wasn’t all that often that beautiful women were shy Jake had noticed over time.

You nodded your head thankful your head decided to fall over your ear shielding the rising blush for him, “Sure.”

He sat down quickly turning himself towards you. This was going to be difficult he decided. He wanted to be forward, so you knew his intentions, but he didn’t want to be too much. Or worse, make you uncomfortable. He knew that there was no coming back from that. You just seemed shy though. Like you didn’t know how to proceed. So, he’d take the reins and steer the conversation.

“Haven’t seen you before. You from around here?” He tried to break the ice. He didn’t know if it’d creep you out. He’d never been this fucking unsure of himself and it was beginning to drive him mad already.

He seemed genuine you thought. Like he was actually trying to strike up a conversation. You’d still refuse to believe it was anything legit though. Likely a bet with the other khaki uniformed people in the corner of the bar.

Fuck it. May as well entertain it. Even if it was a joke at least it was a conversation. Not like you’d had your friends to fall back on, “Yeah, teach at the school on base. Live close by. Just don’t get out that much.”

He hummed contemplating what to say, “That’s too bad.”

“What’s that?” You asked him all too curious at what he meant.

He shrugged trying to play it off nonchalantly. It felt like he was in seventh grade all over again trying to learn how to flirt all over again, “Could’ve met you weeks ago darlin’” He grinned scooting ever so slightly closer to you.

Was he being serious? Even if he wasn’t you couldn’t stop the reaction that came with the conversation with him, “Well,” You decided it was time to be confident. What’d you have to lose? “I’m here now.” You finished wanted to suck in a breath. These flashes of confidence came around occasionally.

His smile turned down into a low smirk. His eyes darked just a tad as he leaned in. He took that as an invitation. You’d more than invited him in now, “That you are beautiful. And I am so thankful for that.” He almost whispered in your ear.

You still shivered. He was laying it on thick now. So would you. Or throw it back in his face, “Are you?”

He nodded, “Very. Means I can ask you out on a date.”

The laugh that left your mouth was inescapable. It had to be a joke. In your twenty-five years on this planet this had not once happened to you. It happened to all of your friends, sure, but not you, “Yeah, sure.” You voice was oozing sarcasm that wasn’t lost on Jake.

He tilted his head as he observed you, “What?”

“Is this some sort of joke or?” You looked around waiting for somebody to point at you, laughing. That’d be horrifying.

He shook his head, “Not at all sweetheart. Why would you think that?” He asked with all the sincerity lacing both his face and his expression.

You took a breath. Because nobody had ever done this before? Because why would he, the most handsome guy you’d laid your eyes upon, have any interest in you? Because this was the last thing you expected tonight. Not that you were against the thought. You just couldn’t believe it.

“No reason.” You tried to play it off as coolly as possible, but you knew you failed. You were fidgety and anxious. Not attractive at all.

“So, what do you say?”

You looked around. Why did he pick you? It just didn’t make sense. There were so many beautiful women. When you were constantly picked last it just didn’t compute when you were one of the first to be picked, “Are you sure?”

He studied your face before his smirk dropped into a frown, “Yes darlin’. I’m positive. Why do you keep trying to check?” He turned the question around on you.

“I mean, there’s women in here like Molly.” You pointed to your blonde friend who was sitting at a bench outside near the beach.

Ahh, that made sense to him. But it didn’t at the same time. You were beautiful too. Just as beautiful as the other women in the bar. If not even more beautiful. Something about you just got his mind going crazy and he wasn’t quite sure what the hell it was. But damn was he determined to figure it out.

He looked over to the girl you pointed to and shrugged, “She’s pretty but not really my type.”

You took your time looking over his features making sure he wasn’t lying to you, “Erin?”

His eyes flicked to the other blonde-haired girl you were pointing too. He shook his head, “I think you’re beautiful. She’s pretty but you’re… you’re absolutely gorgeous. What’s that mean?” He needed to get you to stop thinking about everybody else. He needed you to think about you. To stop comparing yourself. It had to have come from somewhere. Self-doubt always came from a place of neglect. Whatever it was he wanted to help you. Hell, he wanted to go on a date and then ten more with you already. He could just tell you were so layered, had so much to you. He was more than fascinated and needed to find out more. For the first time ever, Jake wanted to get to know the person he was talking to instead of getting into their bed.

It was slowly starting to click into place for you. Maybe he did actually find you attractive. He was certainly being adamant about it, “Really?” You were aware how cringy it actually was to look so daft and clueless. But on the other hand, you were genuinely mystified by the entirety of the situation. It’s not like you never ever got male attention. It just never came in this form. It always seemed to come with a catch.

His softer smile retuned as he reassured you, “Really. I’d love to take you out on a date…” His eyes went wide as he trailed off, “I don’t even know your name.” Looking away in slight embarrassment it was your turn to gain a little confidence now. You were pretty sure that he was actually into you. He was as handsome as ever. And he seemed a touch nervous to talk to you. This was your chance.

Returning his soft smile, you sat up a little taller in your barstool as you turned to him just a little, “Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He repeated committing it to his memory. He got that exiting feeling that you’d be in his life to come for a long while. Taking a second to really remember this moment in time. Your soft smile, the light blush that danced across your cheeks, the way the sunset seemed to gleam off your glistening eyes. He was a sucker already. He’d hardly known you, but he was ready to dive right on in.

You hummed taking a sip of the Diet Coke you’d ordered waiting on his name. You weren’t the most talkative in general, so this was a task for you, to say the least. Words never seemed to come all that naturally to you.

“Jake.” He leaned in closer feeling the pull.

“Jake.” You repeated just as he did, “You look like a Jake.”

His smile grew a touch, “Is that a good thing?”

You nodded your head, “I think it is.”

He was full on grinning now, “They say third times the charm. How about a date? Me, you, tomorrow, 5 PM?”

You had to admit you were more than a little excited to be asked. Let alone by him, “Sure, I’d be down.” You cringed internally at that. Why’d you accept like that? You were trying to come off cool not like a sixteen-year-old girl getting asked on her first date ever.

He pulled his phone out in lightning speed, “Well then darlin’, that calls for me getting your number.”

You’d have to put a pound of makeup on tomorrow from how much he was already making you blush. Taking his phone from his grasp you could’ve sworn you felt the butterflies explode when you touched his fingers with your own. With you unusually shaky hands you put your number in before handing the phone back to Jake.

Your phone chimed after he rattled off a text, “And now you have mine sweetheart.”

You didn’t want to admit how smooth that was but your cheeks flaming up gave that bit away. When you didn’t respond he knew he needed to, “As much as I want to stay and talk with you all night sweetheart. Your friends are staring, and I know mind are to. I’ll pick you up at 5?” he stood from the barstool next to you.

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

He sent you another wink before grabbing his beer, “I’ll see you tomorrow gorgeous. Can’t wait.”

“See you tomorrow Jake.” You waved. With that you spun making a beeline for your friends who were nearly squealing by the time you made it to their table.

“Tell us everything!” Molly was smiling from ear to ear truly thankful you’d given somebody a chance.

Taglist: @loving-and-dreaming

641 notes · View notes

ladykailitha · 3 months

Text

Across a Crowded Room Part 2

This has five parts and is complete. It will be released every Saturday.

In this we has Steve's friends be dim, Eddie bringing breakfast, and Steve be a lovable dork.

Part 1

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

Steve had been shocked by the greeting of Eddie spinning him around. But not as flabbergasted as when Eddie kissed him on the lips just for saying that he missed him.

After Eddie left, Steve felt three pairs of eyes on him and he squirmed a little under their gaze.

“What?”

“Look,” Maria said, “you have been talking this guy up for weeks. Ever since you announced he was coming to stay for a week. And yeah we knew you had a crush on the guy, but this was holy shit fastest levels of yearning to relationship I’ve ever seen.”

Jarren nodded. “I mean, he’s hotter and cooler than you said he was. Like an actual record deal for his metal band? So cool. Long curly hair and doe eyes? So hot. But that’s not the point I’m trying to make here.”

“It better not be,” Steve groused. “Mine!”

Jarren laughed. “All yours, Steve. I promise. But the point I’m trying to make here, is that you kinda blindsided us with this one. Why didn’t you tell us about him before.”

Steve looked over at Robin. “I talk to him all the time. Like prior to him coming out to Chicago, we’d constantly call and text. He’s always commenting on my socials. Like I know I’m slow, but that is extreme levels of dense.”

Jarren and Maria glanced at each other in confusion.

“Wait,” Maria said, “you’re telling me that your ‘stalker’ is that guy?” She pointed toward the door.

Stalker was the name Steve’s friends called Eddie because he would always have commented or liked Steve’s posts by at least the end of the day. Faster than even Robin most days.

“You guys didn’t know?” Robin asked. “Like how many Eddie’s do you think Steve knows?”

Jarren held up on finger and then deflated. “Fuck. Yep. We’re idiots.”

Maria tilted her head back and forth and then shrugged. “Yeaaahhh.”

“I’m going to head home,” Steve said looking at his watch. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

They all waved him off with Maria promising she’d get Robin home safe. As he walked to the door he checked his state of drunkenness. He ran his tongue over his lips and decided that an Uber was a better idea than driving home.

He scheduled the ride on his phone and lit a cigarette. He had graduated from college with a bachelor’s degree in education and basically had the whole summer off to get ready for the major change in his life.

Robin was moving out to New York to get her master’s degree and with any luck an internship at the UN as an interpreter.

She was super excited, but it would be the first time since they became friends that they would go their separate ways.

At first she had tried to convince him to do his last year of school in New York so that he could get his teacher’s certificate and teach there.

But as much as Steve was on board with the idea they both realized too quickly that Steve would be miserable in New York.

But Robin?

Robin would thrive.

So they had packed as much time together as they possibly could as they got used to the fact she would be leaving come summer’s end.

His thoughts were interrupted by the driver pulling up. After both of them triple check they were the other’s right person, Steve slid into the back of the car.

“Music or no?” the driver asked, looking at Steve in the rearview mirror.

“No music tonight, man,” Steve said. “I just want a little quiet tonight.”

The driver nodded and directed the car back to the main road that would take Steve home.

Steve made sure to tip well as the ride slipped by in blissful silence.

He thought that he would be thinking nonstop about Robin. About Eddie. About that kiss. But the quiet hum of the car in the darkness soothed Steve mind and while he didn’t sleep, he felt groggy when he got home as if he had.

He thanked the driver and began the slow trek up to the apartment he shared with Robin.

Steve stuck his key into the lock and sighed. Half the apartment was in disarray as it was nothing but half filled boxes and rolls of packing tape and bubble wrap.

Robin had already packed up her stuff and it was sitting in storage waiting for her to tell them to ship it cross country. The only bit of her things that remained was her clothes, which she had been living out of her suitcase, her daily stuff like toothbrush and shit, and her cellphone and laptop.

She had been sharing Steve’s bed because they needed to be next to each other. To hear the other breathe in their sleep. To know that their person was still there.

Yeah, okay so they weren’t handling it as well they had hoped they would.

He had taken off his shoes and flopped face down into the bed when got two messages.

The first was from Robin saying that she was staying the night Maria’s. Something they often did when they got too drunk. The second one was from Eddie.

-Sleep well, angel

Steve blushed. He didn’t even know why. There was just something so sweet about it.

-Night, Eds

He set his phone to the side and rolled over onto his back. He draped his arm of his eyes.

His plan was always going to be telling Eddie he was in love with him. It was also the plan was to move out to California with Eddie after the week. He was going to give up everything to be with him. Because he didn’t think he could live in Chicago by himself.

He had friends here. But without Robin to put a buffer between him and others when he got overwhelmed, he wasn’t sure if he could keep going out. He would become a hermit.

But now that Eddie was going to move out here, Steve knew that he would have other outlets for social interaction. He got along well with the other members of Eddie’s band and it would be great to see them again.

He got up and stripped down to his underwear. He preferred to sleep like that even in the dead of winter, but with Robin sharing the bed with him he had at least been wearing sweats to bed.

He slipped underneath the sheets and wondering what it would be like to feel Eddie’s skin between these sheets.

He fell asleep to the thoughts of Eddie curled up behind him.

****

The next morning was disturbed by the sounds of his soulmate coming home.

“Come on, dingus!” she hollered. “Up! I have coffee and breakfast.”

Steve was up and throwing on a pair sweats, hopping on one foot as he scrambled out to the kitchen.

He skidded to a stop and blinked at the sight before him.

“Look who I found on our doorstep?” Robin greeted cheerfully.

Steve smiled. “Hey, Eds. I’m guessing you are the bearer of breakfast and coffee?”

Robin squawked her outrage, but Eddie grinned. “Sure am, sweetness. Got you that caramel macchiato you love so much, an iced mocha for the lady and a dark roast, cream and two sugars for me.”

Robin glared at him.

“I kid I kid,” he said and handed her the black coffee. “It’s as dark as your soul, Buck.”

She took the coffee and sipped happily. “Yeah, you can keep him.”

Steve laughed.

“If that’s all it took to get soulmate approval,” Eddie teased, “was a single cup of coffee, I would have bought you one years ago.”

Robin pushed at him and then dug into the bag of breakfast sandwiches.

“What’s this?” she asked pulling out a sandwich in a plastic container.

Eddie snatched it out of her hands. “Mine!” He clutched it to his chest and hissed.

Robin held up her hands in surrender. She went back to her digging. She pulled out a breakfast burrito with peppers, onions, mushrooms, eggs and sausage.

“And that one’s mine...” she said sing-song, setting it to the side.

The last one she pulled out was a simple egg, cheese, and sausage on a buttery croissant. She handed it over to Steve.

“Is it creepy he knows our breakfast order?” she asked as she settled into to her coffee and breakfast.

Steve scoffed. “Robin you have posted about that same burrito almost every Sunday for the last two years, if he didn’t know what you liked, then I would be concerned.”

“Oops!” she said around a bit of food.

Eddie just shook his head and dived into his breakfast.

“What did you get, Eds?” Steve asked.

Eddie had just taken a bite, so he didn’t answer immediately. But he moaned happily around his bite.

“That, my darlin’,” he said once his mouth was clear, “is an eggs Benedict in a breakfast sandwich and I’m in heaven.” He wiped his mouth with his fingers and sucked on them to lick them clean.

Steve’s eyes went wide as he followed the movement. He licked the bottom of his lip and forced himself to look away before the situation got uncomfortable.

“It’s almost as good as the eggs Benedict Uncle Wayne used to make. I see why you guys love that place so much.”

“Yeah...” Robin said, “I’m gonna talk to Kendra and see if I can sleep on her sofa this week...”

Eddie and Steve’s heads snapped her direction.

“What?” Eddie asked, oblivious to Steve’s torture.

Robin rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to be around when the tension finally breaks and you fuck like rabbits on every surface of this apartment. Just clean up after yourselves, yeah?”

She hastily finished her burrito and kissed Steve’s cheek. She walked down the hallway to their bedroom to change out what she was wearing and to shower.

Eddie chuckled at her swift exit. “I didn’t realize I was being that obvious.”

“I think it was the moan that got her,” Steve muttered going back to his sandwich.

Eddie leaned forward and whispered, “Why, darlin'? Did it get you?”

Steve blushed all the way to the roots of his hair. He chewed on his bottom lip and then nodded.

Eddie wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

“Eds!” Steve groaned, pushing the other man’s shoulder. “At least wait until she goes to work, yeah?”

Eddie cackled. “All right, darlin’. I’ll be good until then. But after that, all bets are off.”

Steve felt like heat slid down his spine to pool in his gut.

He gulped and went back to his sandwich. Eddie and Steve were finishing up their breakfast when Robin came back out. She had her bag thrown over one shoulder, ready to go.

“I’m off at five,” she said. “So if you two wanted meet somewhere for dinner, just text me before then.”

She kissed both of them on the cheek goodbye and sauntered out the apartment with a cheerful wave and a “Don’t do anything I would do!” said over her shoulder.

“I’m not sure which of us the menace anymore,” Steve chuckled, shaking his head fondly.

Eddie pulled Steve in for a kiss. “Babe, you share the same brain cell, I’m pretty sure the answer is both of you.”

Steve snorted but couldn’t deny that Eddie was probably right.

“I’m going to miss her when she moves to New York,” he said softly.

Eddie held Steve tightly. “I know, sweetheart. Have you thought about what you want to do after she’s gone? I mean I know you were planning on moving out...” he makes a vague hand motion at the mess around them, “but where were you thinking?”

“Originally or now?” Steve asked after a moment or so just staring at him blankly.

“Is the plan different now that I’m in Chicago?” Eddie asked, pulling back so he could look Steve in the eye.

Steve pursed his lips and nodded.

“Stevie...” Eddie said warningly.

“What?”

“What was your original plan?” he asked dryly.

“Throw myself at you and move to California with you when you went back at the end of the week?” Steve said with a grimace.

Eddie blinked a moment. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Steve asked tilting his head.

Eddie steered him over to the sofa and sat him down on it. “Let’s talk about this for a minute, because even though we want the same things it seems like we’re not on the same page yet.”

Steve furrowed his brow but nodded anyway.

“Hey,” Eddie said firmly. “I’m not saying that’s a bad thing or that I don’t want to be with you. I do, but we need to have a talk about what being together means, okay?”

Steve let out a rough sigh. “Yeah okay.”

“So tell me about this plan of yours.”

Eddie settled himself on the sofa, twisting his body so he was facing Steve. He leaned one arm against the back of the sofa and laced his hands together, giving Steve his full attention.

“I was going to confess my feelings for you tonight over a fancy dinner at my favorite Italian restaurant,” Steve began. “Which I’m still taking you to, but maybe not tonight.”

Eddie smiled encouragingly. “Sounds good so far. What’s next?”

“And then if you told me you felt the same,” Steve continued, ducking his head, “I’d spend the rest of the week trying to convince you to let me go back with you to California.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “And what would you do back in Cali, baby?”

“I’d bartend,” Steve said with a shrug. “It’s what I did when I was going to school here anyway. Then during the day I’d get my teaching certificate in LA.”

Eddie blinked and then his expression softened. “Oh, Stevie. That sounds like a great plan. Too bad I blew by getting a record deal out here, huh?”

Steve laughed. “Nah, it just means I didn’t waste my money getting my teaching certificate for here.”

“So now what’s your plan?” Eddie asked after kissing him fiercely.

Steve shrugged. “Well, you’re here apartment hunting, so I figure I can tag along. Because something that might not work out for you...”

“Might work out for you instead,” Eddie finished. He licked the top row of his teeth thoughtful. “Sounds like fun. Let’s do it!”

“Today or later this week?”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s wrist and hauled him to his feet. “Go get dressed, baby, I want to go apartment hunting with you.”

Steve kissed him deeply and then went and did as he was told.

****

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Tag List: @counting-dollars-counting-stars @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes

131 notes · View notes

st4rb3rr13s · 10 months

Text

1+1=2 chp 1

Eren and you get assigned to do a math project together.

Warning: fingering

Me actually writing?? During writer’s block?? That’s actually crazy. Snippet link

Everyone hated Mr.Ackerman’s class. If you asked the average student on campus what was their least favorite class and teacher, it would be math with Mr.Ackerman. He was a cold teacher who didn’t care about anything but his paycheck, students would say. If you were late to class he’d give you a scowl before finishing his lesson. Or if something was happening in your life and needed to get an extension, he’d tell you life is hard and to make sure it’s done by the due date because they’re presenting it to the class. He was on another level of evil. Most students tried to switch out of his class or find a different math teacher but he was mandatory. If you didn’t pass his course, you’d fail the whole year. Knowing this most students paid attention and took his class very seriously. Eren never took his class that seriously, though.

Eren was the average frat boy who’d walk into class late with a new girl. Mr.Ackerman would give him a glare, but Eren would always shoot him a smile before walking to an empty seat. He’d always talk about anything and everything while Mr.Ackerman was teaching. If he wasn’t talking he was sleeping through his lesson, not caring what he missed. He could just ask his blonde friend, Armin, later. No one honestly knew how he was passing, really any of his classes because he acts the exact same way, until he explained it. His friend Armin would just give him the answers, being in the same frat as him. But unlike Eren, Armin actually took college seriously.

When Eren was paying attention though, you always catches yourself staring at him. The way his mouth would bite onto his pens while his face was planted onto the palm of his hand. He looked so ethereal while paying attention to the lesson.

Although he was cute, you saw the way other girls looked at him. All of them wanted, no needed Eren. The way their legs would pinch together when he walked into the room. Their eyes glued to Eren’s figure, wanting to touch all over him. His personality always entertained these girls, so you just thought he was like every other frat guy.

Additionally, you friend got with his best friend, Armin, and that turned out horribly for her. You’d think a guy who is good with grades, is so gentle and soft spoken would be good to you. You friend was left to cry on your shoulder while eating ice cream and cutting her hair shoulder length. Which suited her well, honestly.

But what you didn’t know was, Eren wanted you too. When he saw you on the first day, he had a tent in his pants, watching as you walked to an empty seat. Your clothing wasn’t anything like the girl’s who flirted with him wore. Your clothes weren’t obnoxiously modest, it’s just you didn’t show a lot of skin, but definitely enough. It was like you were teasing him, knowing what to show and what not to show. It left him thinking about how your body looked. The way your hair would be in these cute hairstyles that you most likely found on Pinterest. He wanted to take a handful of your hair, forcing your mouth to take more of his dick while your spit made a mess. Your big round glasses, falling from your nose that you’d have to push back up. He wanted those glasses to fog up as he kept your legs up. Seeing the way cum would be all over your glasses as you looked up at him. The way your voice sounded as you spoke to others around you who needed help. He’d think about that voice as his hand was running over his cock. He wanted you so bad and you showed no interest.

But when he overheard Mr.Ackerman and you talking, it was over. It was a normal Wednesday evening, and he forgot to give the teacher a worksheet he had finished. He was about to go in when he heard your voice.

“Levi, dead ass you need to lay off. I have other classes and you just keep adding a ton of shit to my list.” You spoke.

“That’s college, and don’t cuss at me. We’re in school right now.” Levi sighed.

The two of you were talking so casually, it led Eren to come up with multiple conclusions. That was until he heard you say brother. Mr.Ackerman and you were siblings. The nicest girl and the meanest teacher on campus. From that point on he knew he had to have you.

The next day when Mr.Ackerman assigned partners for the next project, and he assigned the two of you. Your heart started to race. You were gonna be partnered up with Eren, the frat boy everyone is holding onto. Everyone is somehow talking about. The guy in your class who never pays attention but looks hot when he does. That Eren.

Eren’s lips curved into a smile, knowing he wouldn’t even have to try too hard. He knew this project meant the two of you would have to work by yourselfs with no one else around. It seemed like there was someone on his side. As he walked up to you, he felt his dick start to harden. You couldn’t hold eye contact for more than 2 seconds. He planted himself next to you, seeing you finally look at him.

“Hi, we should work on this project in the afternoon, 5 through 6, if that’s alright with you?” You asked him.

“Fine with me.” Eren smiled.

It was from then on every weekday you two would meet at the library to work on your project. It was always quiet in the library with a good amount of student. You two always found an area to work without many people. Eren would always say It’s to help us focus, and Wouldn’t you want to work in a quiet place, but what he really was trying to focus on was how to fuck you without people noticing.

Eren sat with his palm holding his head. His eyes lingered to your crew neck. He couldn’t see much, of anything, on your upper body today. But if his eyes lingered down fast enough, he could see the way your thick thighs come together. Eren thought of himself as a titties man, always looking at a girl’s tits when they talked to him. But whatever he could see from you, was what he was that day.

“Eren?” You question.

His eyes looked back at your face, to see your glasses capturing your beautiful eyes perfectly. The way your lips jutted out, begging to be face fucked. He wanted you more than you knew.

“What was that princess?” Eren asked, not bothered to paying attention

“I was just reading the Google document. You need to start paying attention, because I can’t afford to fail this project.” You explained, looking back at it. Eren took a deep breath, looking at you. As you started to read again, his mind started to linger about other things. It was like every time you were around he couldn’t stay focused. “Eren.”

“This is so boring, you wanna try something?” He asked. Your face looked at him in question, making him smile. His hand took your face, before his lips were right in front of yours. His viridiana eyes staring back into yours. “Is this alright?”

Although you knew this was wrong, you knew if your brother saw you now he’d be disappointed, you nodded. His lips entrapped you with soft kisses. His hand slowly slithered down to your waist, pulling you in closer. His breath was minty, while his cologne was hypnotizing. You pulled back, taking a couple breaths before he pulled you back in. He took his other hand, pressing your neck to deepen the kiss.

He bit your bottom lip softly watching as your voice left out a soft moan. His tongue swirled against yours, earning quiet whimpers. Your eyes shut from the way he’s got you already pinned, no hooked. Just by the way his scent smells makes you pull back into him. His hand squeezed your thigh, making you squeak into the kiss.

He went back, chuckling before kissing your neck. His lips planted soft kisses onto multiple places on your neck, making you whimper his name. Pleasure was starting to fill your sense, a hazed feeling starting to bubble within you. His tongue slowly licked a stride on your neck, keeping eye contact with you.

“Want more.” You moaned, looking at him.

His hand touched your clothed pussy, feeling the damped spot. He massaged your clothed clit, feeling how your body tensed to the feeling. He could tell you barley had sex, or played with yourself even. He wanted to dominate you, no make you his. But that would have to be next time.

His finger moved your panties out the way, dipping his middle finger into your pussy, feeling how warm and tight it was. It was better than he could imagine, better than all those other girl’s he’s fucked before. God, he was so hypnotized by you already, and he hasn’t even fucked you. Your sweet moans started to get louder, he knew he had to silence you.

“Baby, can you read the document please? Try not to let everyone know what we’re doing, Kay?” He whispered, going to plant a sweet kiss on your neck.

Your eyes opened, nodded before looking back at the document. Soon as you opened your mouth, another finger plunged in. Your mouth has an o-shape as his finger kept prodding in and out of your pussy. It felt way to good, as soon as you shut your eyes, it came to a stop. Your head swiftly looked at him, seeing as his eyes stayed on you.

“Didn’t I tell you to read?” Eren asked.

Your head quickly turned to your computer, starting to say what was on the Google document. His fingers start to move faster. The rough pads touching every part you couldn’t get to. All the men you’ve been with, which wasn’t a lot, haven’t been able to make you feel this good. The way his finger’s scissored your pussy, made tears of pleasure start to form. Your voice started to go lower as his touch started to overwhelm you. An overwhelming sensation started, making your hips buckle into his fingers. His tongue, his scent, it was all getting too much.

A knot in your stomach was going to come undone in any minute, and he knew it. He could tell by the way your tight pussy held onto his fingers, making it hard for him to move. His thumb touched your neglected nub, starting to rub it in fast circle. That was it for you, a loud moan shrieked from the walls of the library as your cum coated his fingers. His fingers let you ride out your high, making you see stars. You couldn’t imagine how his dick could feel. How it would encapsulate you into abyss.

His fingers left you, before going into his mouth. Your eyes opened to see Eren sucking his fingers, moaning against them to your slick. His eyes was shut, wanting to taste you so bad. He wanted to eat you out so bad. Seeing the way you’d coo from his tongue and fingers. The mess you’d make on his cock too. Eren wanted you so bad, he needed you so bad. His eyes opened, seeing yours wide eyed, staring at him. A tent was in his pants, just thinking about how good your pussy tastes. His fingers fell from his mouth, before he lick his lips.

“It’s 6, I’ll see you in class.” Eren smirked, watching as you watched him leave.

#eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren x reader #eren aot #aot x black reader #aot eren #eren x black reader #snk x black reader #aot x black y/n #aot x reader #st4rb3rr13s approved #aot smut #eren smut #snk smut #st4rb3rr13s

341 notes · View notes

morningstargirl666 · 6 months

Note

what are your top ten favorite klaroline fics?

Ooooo let me think... in no particular order:

The Lost Prince & The Eternal Queen by @3tinkgemini /3tingemini

Oh this is a beloved favourite. Caroline's a werewolf alpha and Klaus, fresh from breaking his curse, searches her pack out to turn them into hybrids. Instead of forces them to turn, Caroline makes a deal with him, teaching him what it means to be who they are, offering him a place in her pack and if by a certain amount of time her pack want to become hybrids, he may turn as many as he wishes. It's got some great lore and delves nicely into Klaus' werewolf side. I adore it.

The Stubborn Grace of Being Loved Regardless by @helpless-in-sleep / perfectpro

Also an all-time favourite, this fic is beautiful. Caroline isn't turned into a vampire and when Klaus rolls into town, she's still human. That doesn't deter his affections. AND DID I MENTION YOU GET TO SEE HIM IN WOLF FORM? NO? WELL YOU DO AND I AM STILL NOT OVER IT 😭😭😭

Wisteria by @little-miss-sunny-daisy / sunnydaisy

Caroline meets Klaus before he comes to Mystic Falls, without realising he is in fact, The Klaus, The Original Hybrid. A beautiful love story unfolds that leaves you all soft and gooey inside.

The Howling by @bellemorte180 / BelleMorte180

I LOVE the idea of this two-shot. It's a werewolf mate au - wherein both Klaus and Caroline are werewolves. There's also ✨Damon murder✨ Need I say more?

From The Eastern Mountains by @cupcakemolotov / Cupcakemolotov

Read this not too long ago actually and kicked myself for not finding it sooner. In between grieving her mother, travelling and finding her own place in the world, Caroline keeps bumping into Klaus. The scene at the market haS changed me on a fundamental level, i even don't know why that scene's the most vivid for me but it is. There's just something so mundane about it. AND HELL YES WE GET KLAUS IN WOLF FORM!!! Go forth and read.

Their Nightly Ritual by bellamywinchester

A fic from my ffnet days, this has got to be a contender for my favourite kc fic of all time. Again, there's just something so mundane about it, even with all the supernatural shenanigans - I guess I have a type? I NEED THE DOMESTICITY OKAY? Caroline and Klaus exchange phone calls while she's in college, diverging from season 5 canon.

Blood and A Quick Murder (and isn't that how it always is?) by @ks-caster / KS_Caster

A beautiful character study on how Caroline will always come first in Klaus' books. It explores a really unique idea I've never seen before, and if you like this one-shot you should definitely check out ks-caster's Red Queen series too, which diverges from canon at season 4.

Till I Tasted You by @kirythestitchwitch / KiryTheStitchWitch

GOD this fic is a favourite because never have I ever been ruined so severely by one line of dialogue: “As if I could be jealous of a boy who has no concept of what it is like to touch the sun and then spend a millennium looking for daylight in every strangers’ face.” YOU SEE??? HOW WILL I FIND LOVE NOW THIS IS MY STANDARD???

[muffled screaming]

Wicked Schemes by willowaus

This one is probably on every klaroline rec list, but eh, I don't care. It's a good classic. I love that its set in New Orleans and Caroline gets her own powers. It also has Klaus in wolf form and any fic that has that instantly earns my seal of approval, as you should know by now.

the fate makes for a lousy poet by @stars-and-darkness / for_darkness_shows_the_stars

I binged this in a morning and after I finished it I was left shell shocked, in that high state after a fic has completely changed you on a spiritual level where you don't know how to move on with your life. I just remember lying atop my bed and staring at the ceiling like??? What do I do now??? What was I doing before I read this??? Fuck if I know. It's an amazing fic, canon divergent from season 3, a tattoo soulmate au with brilliant appearances from Kol, Elijah and Rebekah as well. And hey, in my shell shock after reading it I left an essay-length comment on the fic and now I'm best mates with the author. Our tastes literally align so perfectly it's like we share the same brain cell, so I could probably make a top ten klaroline fic list out of Ella's fics alone - every fic of hers takes all my hopes and dreams and weaves them into art. So check her stuff out, and not just the popular ones either (she's also got an amnesia au in the works which has me FERAL so come help me pester her to finish it)

#klaroline #klaus x caroline #fanfiction #klaroline fanfiction #fic recs #fic rec #fanfic recs #caroline forbes #klaus mikaelson #anon ask

148 notes · View notes

cookinguptales · 19 days

Text

God, so. This is a story I haven't told in a while, so it'll probably be new to a lot of my followers.

This morning I got my kudos email and saw one for a fic I didn't recognize. I puzzled over this for a few minutes, then clicked on it and immediately remembered everything I'm about to tell you.

"Oh right," I said. "This is what happened the last time I fell down a research rabbit hole while writing original fiction."

The long and short of it is this: I used to do a Halloween fic exchange every year, and one year someone requested "dinosaur ghost." I was immediately like "that sounds fun!" and then, approximately three seconds later, remembered an article I'd read recently.

(This is me, unfortunately.)

A long time ago, there was this kind of mad rush for dinosaur skeletons to put in museums. (The Bone Wars, if you're familiar.) The Carnegie Museum ended up finding an Apatosaurus skeleton, but at that time, no one knew what that skeleton was supposed to look like. The researchers argued quite a bit about it and, despite the fact that they'd actually found the correct skull during the dig, attached the cast of a skull of a Camarasaurus to it instead. This skeleton had the wrong skull for decades until the mistake was realized and eventually switched out for the right skull in the 1970s.

This left me with an appealing, sort of whimsically romantic idea: what would it be like, if dinosaur bones are haunted? And what would it be like if two ghosts were being forced to inhabit the same dinosaur skeleton?

So I decided that I wanted to write this story about this mismatched skeleton and the ghosts that haunted it, but in order to do that properly, I had to find out what happened to that Camarasaurus skull after the Apatosaurus was properly reassembled.

Friends, I fell down the fucking rabbit hole. I looked at the museum's website. I was looking in journals. I was on Google looking at families' vacation photos so I could get a better look at the exhibits in the museum.

I was down bad.

In the end, I gave in and emailed the museum. Like... this is a weird question, but is there anyone who could tell me what happened to the Camarasaurus skull that used to be on display with the Apatosaurus?

I wasn't expecting a reply, really. Maybe an intern would email me back with an apology. If I got really lucky, a docent might actually know what I was talking about.

Imagine my surprise when I get back an email from an actual fucking paleontologist. He is not just happy to tell me what happened -- he is thrilled. He was excited that someone was even asking these questions, and I didn't even almost have the heart to tell him why I'd asked.

Now... I'll take a moment here to say that I am actually interested in museum studies. I'm super interested in the way we teach science, the way we teach science history, and the history of how we've taught that history. I took classes on it in college, in fact. I tried to take paleontology, too. I even took all the preqs and everything. I just couldn't get it into my schedule in the end.

So when a literal fucking paleontologist emails me to talk to me about these things, I sit up in my seat. I want to seem like I am On The Level. I reply to this man with my academic email address.

OH MY GOSH, he says. YOU WENT TO PENN? I WENT TO PENN!

Oh no. Oh no. I am in too deep. I am in way too deep. This kind, charmingly enthusiastic paleontologist cannot know that I am writing a quasi-homoerotic dinosaur ghost love story. He can't.

So I talk to him about my own field of study because I desperately want to sound like a real scholar and not like this is research for my AO3 account. (Even though it is.) We have a very nice conversation. He tells me everything I need to know and then some.

Apparently, I was right when I'd suspected that I'd seen a Camarasaurus skull in some of the photos of the exhibit. He was pleased I'd noticed. But it wasn't the same one that was on display with the Apatosaurus skeleton.

The real Apatosaurus skull was too fragile to be put on display, so they made a cast of it instead and mounted that on the skeleton in the exhibit. The real skull is being kept in the Big Bone Room, which is what they call their fossil storage. The cast of the Camarasaurus skull? Even though it was just a cast, it was still kept for posterity. It is also being stored in the BBR along with the skull of the Apatosaurus. And the real Camarasaurus skull that the cast was based on is now displayed near the Apatosaurus skeleton in the exhibit.

So both parts of the skeleton are now with a new version of their old friend, and they'll never be alone again. I don't think I could have designed a more romantic, bittersweet ending if I'd tried.

I write my fic. It's lovely, in my opinion, and exactly what I wanted it to be. It's about love and friendship and the sort of wistful affection you feel for friends who have gone and those you have just met.

I do not speak to the paleontologist again.

To this day, I am deeply relieved that he never found out what I was up to, but also sort of curious to know if he would've liked it if he'd read it. I took some extreme scientific liberties while writing my quasi-f/f dinosaur ghost fic (shocking, I know) so probably not. lmao

You never know, though! Some academics are into some super weird shit! Like me!

So I guess I always feel kind of wistful about the fic, too.

Anyway... Here's the Carnegie Museum's page about the Apatosaurus/Camarasaurus skeleton.

And here's the story I wrote about them:

Something Borrowed 💜🦕

#original fiction #long post #paleontology #dinosaurs

30 notes · View notes

raccoon-eyed-rebel · 2 months

Text

Part 23

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 22 🟣 Part 24

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: Fluff, ongoing vampire shenanigans, a little ace-angst...

Word count: 2k

A/N: More vampire feels for everyone!

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @summersong69 @mis-lil-red @sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld @proud-aroace-beastie @plaidcat4815 @wa-ni (Fucking dumblr won't let me tag y'all)

“Darling, can you come to the kitchen for a moment?” Sherlock asked calmly. You rounded the corner and looked at them suspiciously — the way they were all sitting around the kitchen table with serious looks on their faces made the whole thing… just kind of sus.

“Did someone die?” you asked as you joined them at the table. This was not a nice way to spend your time after the lovely shower you’d just taken.

“Oh, no! Nothing of the sort,” Sherlock reassured you. That was comforting, at least.

“We just wanted to ask you…” August started, only to be interrupted by a very excited Mike.

“We want to take a little trip!”

“In fact,” Sherlock clarified, “we would love for you to spend the summer with us… with our family.”

“You mean,” you replied slowly, “I’d get to meet the others?”

“Yes,” August answered. “There’s only two of them, no worries.” You had been wondering how big their coven was, and it was nice to hear there weren’t too many introductions to be made.

“And one of them would be Charles, correct?” It was more or less a guess, but an educated one.

“Yes. There’s a chance my brother will show up — it is quite a nice house we have…”

“Then why live here?” If they had a nice house somewhere, then why did they share this apartment?

“Sherlock moved here to teach, Mike moved here to go to college,” Marshall answered.

Mike interrupted again: “Marshall missed me too much.” You raised your eyebrows and rolled your eyes, but Marshall chuckled and shook his head.

“He’s not lying,” he said. “It took me nearly a century to be able to live apart from Sherlock. What Mike neglects to mention is that he missed me, too.”

“Did not!” Mike faux-protested. “I only called him up on the verge of crying three or four times a week!”

“At the risk of sounding completely insensitive… What? Why?” you wondered.

“We suspect it’s a way to protect new vampires, and people,” Sherlock explained. “The very young ones can be unpredictable. It’s not as much of a problem these days; there are special feeding programs for juveniles — they feed more often for the first year or so… Anyway, before feeding became legal the way it is now, it was important that youngsters learned to… well, to be quite frank about it, they had to learn to not kill everyone they bit.”

“A hungry young vampire left unattended can — and will — kill a grown man in about three minutes,” August helpfully added. “Supervision was very necessary.”

“Especially during those times when secrecy was of utmost importance,” Sherlock continued. “One wrong move… It can be tricky to gain full control over the new levels of strength and speed.”

“Not to mention those damn fangs,” Mike noted. “Just getting the bite right is tricky in the beginning.”

“You don’t just… bite?” you asked.

“When we’re close to you, princess,” August said with a strange smirk, “we can feel every vein in your body.” Did that have to sound so… ominous? “That’s the easy part. The hard part is aiming. It makes sense to have someone teach you.”

“Most of us feed exclusively on their… let’s say ‘mentor’, for the first six months,” Marshall added. “Then, by the time they move on to human blood, they’ll have something resembling restraint. Usually.” He glared at Mike.

“Okay, my first human was not a success, but…”

“It was a disaster, Mike,” Marshall said, rolling his eyes.

“He didn’t… you didn’t… right?” You could only hope they understood what you were trying to ask.

“No, she was fine. But it was a bloodbath,” Marshall grumbled. “A waste of perfectly good food.”

“Says the one with the knife kink…” you blurted out.

“I wouldn’t have dreamed of wasting a drop of blood back then. Remember that feeding was mostly illegal during that time,” Marshall reminded you. “I almost lost a very willing volunteer that night.”

“How did that conversation even go? ‘Hello, would you mind if my intern performed the procedure today?’” Everyone laughed.

“Something like that,” Marshall said eventually. “I told Manu — her name was Manuela — I had a friend, someone like me… She jumped at the chance to be his first human.”

“She was great,” Mike remembered. “Very solid about the pain…”

“She got off on the pain, genius,” Marshall laughed.

“I know that,” Mike sighed. “But even then. Stop making me look like an idiot, I know you know what I mean!”

“The difference between enjoying the bite and enjoying the aftermath of the bite,” August guessed — and judging from the looks on Mike and Marshall’s faces, he was correct.

“Sherlock?” He was gone. Suddenly. Not that that was so strange for him — you knew what he could do — but to leave like that, without warning?

“He’s in his room,” the guys said at the same time.

Of course, you were the last one to reach the door — but the first one to knock.

“Come in,” Sherlock said reluctantly, and you opened his bedroom door. “I’m sorry I disappeared.”

“What’s going on?” you asked, sitting down on his bed, and reaching for him in a silent plea for him to join you. He did, wrapping an arm around your shoulders almost painfully tightly.

“I remember this time so very differently,” he whispered. “Many… volunteers, back in the day, were exactly as they describe. But many weren’t simply in it for the pain…”

“I mean, of course there was a sexual edge to it for many of them, but…” Mike’s eyes went wide. “Oh. Right. Shit…”

“It was particularly difficult to find volunteers willing to forego the…”

“Boinking,” Mike suggested.

Sherlock looked up at him. “You can’t possibly think that would have been my choice of words, Mike.”

“Fine, amorous congress, better?”

“Marginally,” Sherlock chuckled. “Even the ones who seemed content with such an arrangement at first often became bored with the lack of…”

“Boinking,” Mike said again. “Ow! Joke, people. Joke!” He rubbed the back of his head, where August had hit him.

“What did you do?” you asked, both concerned and curious.

“I had to eat,” he answered plainly. “There weren’t too many options. Telling people what I was, was dangerous enough in and of itself. I simply viewed the” — his eyes shot up to look at Mike for a second — “intercourse as payment for the service rendered. I should add that, during this phase of my life, I was far more repulsed by the concept of sexual activity than I am now.”

“That… changes?” you asked carefully.

“There is some fluidity to it, yes,” he replied quietly. “Completely involuntary and ungovernable, of course.” He sighed. “So far, the height of my interest in physical relations has been the willingness to please a trusted romantic partner. Which is not a state in which I find myself at this current time — regrettably, I might add. I’m sorry.”

Was he apologizing? “You are not apologizing to me for being who you are, Sherlock,” you said sternly. “I swear I’ll have one of them kick you!” You gestured at the others.

“I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not enough for you,” he whispered.

“Look at me,” you said, placing your hand on the side if his face. “You are more than enough for me. Our relationship is… whole. It’s not lacking, it’s not incomplete, it’s everything it’s supposed to be.”

“If that were true,” he said, “you wouldn’t have wondered why we weren’t sleeping together.”

“Oh, good God,” you sighed. “That was because of some misaligned expectations on my part, and you know it, Holmes! If you desperately want to apologize for something, apologize for not managing those expectations sooner.”

He gave you a kind smile that was unable to hide the pain in his eyes, and took your hand, gently rubbing his thumb over the back of it. “I still wish it were different.”

“Well, I don’t ,” you snapped. “Because I love you. Now, tell me more about this trip we’re taking, please.” You threw an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. “Who is this mysterious coven member I’ve never heard any of you talk about? And are my, ehm… services expected to be extended to them? I mean, I—”

“No,” August snarled unexpectedly aggressively. He calmed down slightly when Marshall put a hand on his chest. “No,” he said again, this time whispering so softly you could barely hear him. Now, August having a strained relationship with Charles wasn’t exactly news to you, but even then, this reaction seemed a bit extreme…

“August, I know you don’t like him much, but we both know the most likely scenario,” Marshall replied to August’s outburst.

“And what is the most likely scenario?” Mike fidgeted with his own fingers, clearly nervous.

“That I will want to,” you said without thinking. “That’s it, right? What everyone is thinking? That I’ll want to feed them?”

Sherlock nodded slowly. “Though the agreed upon parameters of out contract do not extend to them, and you will not be responsible for keeping them alive.”

“So, by all means,” August hissed, “refuse him service.”

“August,” Sherlock warned, and to your surprise, August relaxed immediately. “Play nice.” There was an edge to his voice, almost a kind of buzz. The words felt fuzzy in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“Remember the hierarchy, love?” Marshall reminded you.

“Right…” You’d almost forgotten about that — probably because Sherlock never really pulled rank — just like you’d forgotten about the fact that…

“You can boss us around too, princess,” August said with a smile. “Although I’m quite glad you… don’t.” At least not to him…

“Mystery coven member, guys!” you reminded them of your other question.

“Ah, right,” Sherlock said with a smile. “He is the man who turned me and Charles, nearly a millennium ago. His name is Melot.”

“He’s close to, what? 1400 years old now?” Mike asked, more than said.

“Give or take,” August shrugged. “It doesn’t come down to the century once you start talking about those kinds of numbers.”

“His history is interesting, but you’ll have to ask him about it,” Marshall said before you could voice any of the questions that popped into your mind. “Pack your bags, love.”

“Don’t you have to, like… call them? Let them know we’re coming? Or did you guys plan this whole trip without ever letting me know?” It wouldn’t have surprised you, but you would have had a thing or two to say about it, for sure.

“He knows we’re coming,” August said plainly. Why was he suddenly holding your suitcase? “Anything already in here stays in here.”

You glared at him, getting up off the bed and closing the distance between you with a single step. “August Walker, you… you…”

“Use your words, princess.” He grinned, and you caught a hint of his fangs. It was infuriating.

And then you felt it.

Heat. Strength. Power.

“You insolent jackass,” you growled. “If you know everything so well, then why don’t you pack up the rest of my stuff. And you had better get it right the first time.”

A low growl escaped him before he disappeared from the room, and the strange feeling disappeared.

“Wow,” you said. “Never thought I could actually make August my bitch…”

“You may have won the battle, darling,” Sherlock said. An amused smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “But I doubt you’ll win the war.”

“I, for one, doubt you’ll be able to sit when he’s through with you,” Mike chuckled. “He wanted to spank the shit out of you as soon as he sensed the shift, but he couldn’t. Because hierarchy…”

“You did nothing wrong, love,” Marshall, as always, managed flawlessly to put your unspoken panic at ease. “If anything, I’d say he had it coming.”

“I’ll talk you through the etiquette during the flight,” Sherlock chuckled, no longer trying to hide his smile. “You’ll learn to control it, eventually.”

“Okay hold on for one teeny tiny little moment there,” you said. “What do you mean by ‘during the flight’? Where the hell are we going?”

“Home.” Mike said with a big smile.

#mike hellraiser fic #mike hellraiser #mike (hellraiser)#hellraiser mike #mike hellraiser fanfiction #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #walter marshall #hc sherlock #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes #august walker #august walker fanfiction #natural fic #naturalfic

44 notes · View notes

yourdyingwish · 10 months

Note

Hi! I saw your post about the blue curtain thing and I was wondering what was wrong with their interpretation. I haven't taken an english/lit class in years so a lot of it has slipped my mind, and the way they explained it seemed to make sense to me (especially because I tend to intentionally do something similar for imagery in my own writing).

I just posted a pretty long explainer a second ago about this because obviously I was being flippant when I posted the original screenshot, but basically: there's nothing inherently wrong with using an author's biographical details to inform an interpretation of a piece of literature. Death of the Author is something else entirely. Some people who have never read Barthes' original essay and have maybe only heard the phrase or concept seem to think that Death of the Author is a methodology in which you ignore the author's life in favor of your "own interpretation," which is somehow always right. This could not be more wrong. But to step back, let's talk about why that original post was limiting to the practice and art of criticism (I'm going to use this instead of 'wrong') because that was your question. At the core of that original post is, in fact, basically the same limited line of thinking present in the post I was talking about. (Btw no shade to OP–I care more about the 40k people who seem to agree with them, they might have changed their mind or not articulated themselves well, I've been there). Let's look at the original curtains are blue post and this post side by side.

Putting the rest of this under a cut because it gets long

The left is a version of the original idea in the "curtains are blue" post, and the right is the post I had an issue with which seems to basically be saying that real academic literary analysis doesn't actually try to match color symbolism to meaning, and instead focuses on autobiographical details of the author's life.

If this is true to OP's experience or the experience of those reblogging the post, I hope they high-tail it out of whatever program they're studying in. The issue with both of these posts, besides their general anti-intellectual undertone, is actually their emphasis on "correct" or "real" interpretation of a text, or one that is understood as "right" by some kind of invisible cabal of criticism-theory referees who all want to tell you "what the author really said." This is, among other things, a very juvenile approach to criticism. I think the reason that this type of sentiment is so popular on tumblr is that, frankly, a lot of people on this website are in high school or early college, and have an adversarial relationship to their English teacher/professor, who grades them on how well they can analyze a text based on sometimes arbitrary criteria. It makes sense that they would see themselves being graded on their criticism as "right" or "wrong" and interpret that there is such a thing as a single interpretation of a text that is "right" or "wrong."

However, that's not really what is or should be happening in upper-level/higher education. A high school English teacher trying to teach their students about color symbolism in the Great Gatsby is simply trying to impart one possible methodology of criticism to their students and enable them to repeat the same basic critical moves that one critic, at one time, has made, because grasping the basic ability to adopt a methodology and employ it is a foundational skill for analysis. However, public schools in America can't and don't take the time to explain that this is a methodology, so many students who are tumblr-aged walk away with this idea that their English teachers or even their professors have an extremely narrow view of what is "true" in a text. Often, exposure to one methodology will leave them with the idea that this is the correct methodology, when what they should have been taught first is that obsessing over what is "correct," especially related to truth from the author, is the one thing you shouldn't do. This is why the second post is just as bad: it says that actually, it's not symbolic interpretations from the author that matter (as in 'the author meant for the curtains to just be blue'), but an author's biography which, buried under psychoanalytic layers, can be revealed as a generator of meaning (as in 'the author's mother died in a room with blue curtains'). Both of these things are irrelevant because they, probably through the above process of intellectual alienation caused by grades I mentioned above, are focused on what the author intended as being a source of truth within a text.

This is what Death of the Author makes an attempt to deconstruct, and why I mentioned it in my original post. Barthes wrote his essay at a time when theory and criticism in general was undergoing seismic shifts following two major world wars & a huge variety of other cultural undercurrents in middle of the 20th century. Many things that had been taken for granted up to that point were suddenly being reconsidered, in particular the idea that texts, art, or even language itself has a central "truth" or meaning. Massively simplified, this is one of the core tenets of post-structuralism, and you can definitely say that Barthes was a post-structuralist thinker. When Barthes wrote that the death of the author is the birth of the reader, he was simply pointing out that the assumption many centuries of Western criticism is built on–that the author is the primary meaning-maker within a text, simply because they wrote it–is wrong. I believe this is true. Some people say death of the author is a "methodology" of criticism, but to me it's actually more like a door you have to walk through in order to do really good criticism. If you free yourself from the idea of a "correct" interpretation of a text driven by authorial intent, what you're left with is the really thrilling, life-giving work of criticism: drawing connections from within and without the text, and treating it as a living document whose meaning changes over time. What I think people don't realize is that poststructuralism, either formally or in practice, is the basis for most of the literary theory we embrace and consider valid. That is NOT to say that some French dude in the 1950s invented feminism or post-colonial theory, or even paved the way for it. Instead, you could easily say that marginalized people were already approaching critical analysis in a variety of ways based on their lived experiences, and it was the academy which had to catch up. There are a lot of more complicated theoretical thoughts people have had on this, which aren't relevant here really. But I think it's worth pointing out that Death of the Author is, by my measure at least, very good to do, and is VITAL to do if you've spent most of your adult life having weird, watered-down versions of symbolic, biographical, or psychoanalytic theories of interpretation pounded into your head by overworked English teachers. I feel like I should make it clear, BTW, that what I'm saying about why I think Death of the Author is a useful text or concept and what Barthes is saying about authorship in the essay itself are two slightly different things. Barthes' investment in overturning authorship at least within the confines of this brief essay is a lot more related to him proving out his theories of poststructuralism in general than it is to opening doors to totally new forms of interpretation. In the essay he is essentially saying that the nature of texts is the nature of language itself, which is that they are completely constructed, culturally determined, and therefore open to endless interpretation. This is a beautiful idea and one I embrace fully. A lot of Marxists, queer theorists, and others rail against this at least in part, because if you stop there, you're still functioning within a very limited paradigm. You've probably heard it before, the move is basically: "everything is a construct, so nothing matters" as opposed to the feminist, critical race theory, queer theory approach, which is to say "the things we consider to be true are constructs; what narratives or modes of being exist to disrupt those constructs?" or a more Marxist/materialist approach which is to say "this is a construct, and someone constructed it because it benefitted them to do so."

But I think the original essay really is beautiful. I'm going to quote from it here:

Once the Author is distanced, the claim to "decipher" a text becomes entirely futile. To assign an Author to a text is to impose a brake on it, to furnish it with a final signified, to close writing. This conception is quite suited to criticism, which then undertakes the important task of discovering the Author (or his hypostases: society, history, the psyche, freedom) beneath the work: once the Author is found, the text is "explained," the critic has won; hence, it is hardly surprising that historically the Author's empire has been the Critic's as well, and also that (even new) criticism is today unsettled at the same time as the Author. In multiple writing, in effect, everything is to be disentangled, but nothing deciphered, structure can be followed, "threaded" (as we say of a run in a stocking) in all its reprises, all its stages, but there is no end to it, no bottom; the space of writing is to be traversed, not pierced; writing constantly posits meaning, but always in order to evaporate it: writing seeks a systematic exemption of meaning. In summary: the reason I think we should engage with texts at all is not to find a single meaning. It's not to prove out what the author said or what they didn't say. Instead, when we engage with literary criticism, our goal should be to simply say something as clearly as we can, based on the methodologies available to us. To ask "What is this? What is it doing? How is it doing it, and why do we care?" is a fundamental, beautiful question and the source of pleasure to me as a reader. Art isn't autonomous, and exists in our lives criss-crossed with social and political forces which change over time. When we can untangle the knots around a work of art, we discover ways to articulate ideas that might be impossible in other contexts. To only untangle the knot of authorial intent does ourselves, and the text, a disservice.

#mouseiero

130 notes · View notes

madlysage · 2 months

Text

my stardew valley bachelorette headcanons… again super niche and definitely just me being insufferable

leah

- grew up in the south and still has a little twang when she speaks

- loves fleetwood mac and all 70s rock

- tried to make her own wine and elliott made harvey give her a stern lecture on botulism

- a serial dater with a string of bad ex-boyfriends in her wake (she was just a lesbian all along but that wasn’t accepted where she was growing up)

- a baby gay who still gets flustered when flirting with girls

- befriended the hat mouse and is still trying to convince elliott that he’s real

- dyes her hair but insists she’s a natural redhead (her mom was one and she always wanted to emulate her)

i always picture kennedy walsh (icon that she is)

haley

- the closet is glass babe (lesbian/possibly pan)

- wanted to go to college for photography and studio art but was worried it would put financial strain on emily

- secret little crush on leah because she loves her art and her artistic eye

- her and emily were raised by a single dad who passed away unexpectedly- it’s part of the reason she has a hard time opening up to ppl

- left anonymous mean notes about clint on the town message board for WEEKS after she found out he was hitting on emily

- uses her dad’s camera: it’s very sentimental to her

perf- would def be into clean girl makeup

emily

- nobody is quite sure about emily’s sexuality… including emily!

- very into spirituality- crystals, spirits, astrology, luck etc.

- makes alex uncomfortable anytime he comes over: she doesn’t realize she’s starting contentious political debates with him

- makes all her own clothes and hasn’t bought anything new in 3 years

- writes sweet notes to shane on the bar napkins when she can see he’s rlly going through it

- wears crystals in her bras

- stole haley’s diamond earrings for a gem mediation (it did not go over well)

- makes elliott quills with her parrot’s dropped feathers

but picture the hair blue ya know: don’t cast elle fanning as a character in a fandom challenge level impossible bro

penny

- bicon

- my image of penny is Filipino… stardew needs more diversity gonna be so real

- went to college for education and got her teaching license but had to move back home because of the debt

- learned how to do maru’s hair after she complained about how long it took

- watches old movies with maru every weekend and they do a book swap once a month

- sam is the only one who will eat her cooking (but he’ll eat anything… especially if penny made it)

- lets maru come in and give guest teaching sessions in science and math to jas and vincent

-started drinking coffee just to have an excuse to drop some off to maru and harvey at work

likeeeee beabadoobee just makes the perf penny i can’t explain it’s the vibe

maru

- lesbian queen

- my autistic love

- graduated highschool early: got a full ride to school and double majored in nursing and engineering before going to nursing school (graduated early from that too ofc)

- lives off of coffee and gets a daily lecture on caffeine consumption from harvey

- is harvey’s wingman (neither of them have any rizz…)

- goes to the bar just to quiz emily on astrology

- sets up ferris beuller type traps when she wants to sneak out and not deal with demetrius

-used to sneak into sebastian’s room during thunderstorms and still does sometimes

laura harrier my love my light… just picture her with glasses

abigail

- straight but likes to makeout with girls when she’s drunk

- goes to college online (majoring in business for pierre but double minoring in classics and anthropology) - her parents wouldn’t let her go in person because she’s too “reckless”

- brought home a squirrel once and hid it in her room for weeks

-used to do competitive irish dance as a kid (seems like something caroline would make her do)

- has a huge crush on sam and will flirt with sebastian to make him jealous

- pierced her own ears six times at once and made caroline faint when she saw her

- has a tattoo on her thigh that’s she’s desperately hiding from her parents

-helped emily dye her hair for the first time

- hooked up with alex once but will never admit it

can’t explain it she just gives kiernan - with purple hair ofc

#stardew valley #sdv headcanons #sdv #stardew fanfic #i know i’m crazy #i think way too much about this #can you tell i’m a bit of an abigail hater…#maru and penny r in love change my mind U CAN’T

23 notes · View notes

suddenlybambi · 1 year

Text

as long as you stay here [12] ♥ kyle broflovski

pairing : kyle broflovski x reader

college AU - 18+

tags : strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst, alcohol, afab reader, she/her pronouns, eventual smut

words : 2.1k

chapter 12

previous | next | alaysh masterlist

a/n - couldn't leave y'all on that angst 😭 also please drink some water for me if you see this 🥰

Kyle and Y/N had fallen asleep together on the bed after eating the brownies and talking for a little while until she drifted off with him soon following after. At some point, his mom must have gone in and retrieved the plate without disturbing them. Y/N hoped that Sheila wouldn’t say anything about the two of them sharing a bed but had a feeling she’d bring it up some way or another.

Once she had woken up, Y/N managed to slip out of bed and downstairs without waking Kyle. Her plan was to make him a cup of coffee and bring it to him in bed as a thank-you for comforting her the night before.

Her heart sank when she was joined in the kitchen by Gerald only a minute later. She considered abandoning the idea altogether, but she was already brewing the coffee. Weighing out her remaining options, she wanted to stay silent, but at the same time, she didn’t want there to be a bad atmosphere over Thanksgiving.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” She offered, hoping to break some of the growing tension.

“Yes, please,” Gerald confirmed, settling down at the kitchen table. “About last night-”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m sorry, I probably overreacted,” She shrugged it off quickly, hoping they wouldn’t talk about it any more and further complicate the issue. She didn’t like to apologise when she felt she did nothing wrong, but it was easier to just make peace while she was staying there and feel her feelings about it once home.

“No, it wasn’t you,” He shook his head and sighed. “I was out of line, and for that, I am sorry.”

“Thank you,” She poured the coffee and walked it over to him, placing it in front of him. Kyle had told her his dad liked his coffee black with one sugar, so that’s how she made it. “In all honesty, I’ve never really had a fatherly figure in my life, so I’m never sure how to react or behave around them. I probably did overreact to what was said, and that is something I need to and will work on in future.”

“You’re a good fit for Kyle,” Gerald took a sip of his coffee and smiled. “You seem like a very mature and level-headed young woman… And this coffee is perfect, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Y/N decided not to touch on the phrasing that she was a good fit for Kyle. She knew what he was implying, but she didn’t want to complicate their relationship by delving into that. She couldn’t risk losing the best friendship she had ever had. “I think I heard Kyle moving around, so I’m going to take his coffee up to him.”

“For the record, if you ever do want to learn how to drive, I am more than happy to teach you,” Gerald added just as she was walking out of the kitchen. “Ike destroyed four mailboxes just trying to turn left. If I can teach him, I think I can teach anyone.”

“Four mailboxes?” Y/N laughed, looking back. She was thankful that the tense atmosphere had dissipated. “Two walls, a fire hydrant, a stop sign, and I blew out three tires.”

“Mom said dinner will be ready in an hour,” Ike yawned from the doorway, having only just gotten up at midday. “But knowing her, it’ll be two hours.”

“Thank you, Ike,” Y/N smiled from her position on the bed. Kyle had set his laptop up so they could watch a movie together without having to go downstairs since Sheila had demanded that everyone leave her alone while she was cooking. “Wanna watch a movie with us?”

“And listen to the two of you flirt the whole time? Gross,” He cringed and turned around to go back to his own room. “I’ll pass.”

“He’s lucky he’s too big for me to kick him now,” Kyle mumbled, looking over at the door. He got up and pushed it so it was just slightly open a crack. “That’s technically still open, right?”

“I’d say so,” Y/N grinned, flicking through the various movies on Netflix. “What are you feeling? Horror is a no for you; gross, sappy romance is a no for me… should we-” She was cut off when her phone started to vibrate on the bed in front of her.

“You getting a call?” Kyle asked, looking over from where he was still standing by the door.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she read the name. “Shit, I’m really sorry!” She sat up straight, glancing over at Kyle. “I need to take this. Do you want me to step outside, or can I just-”

“No, it’s fine! Go for it,” He nodded in confirmation that it was all good with him, and she accepted the call.

“The fuck do you want?” She asked. Kyle would have been concerned had it not been for the playful tone in her voice as she spoke.

“Turn your Facetime on!” He could hear the other voice, clearly male, despite the fact that Y/N was holding the phone up to her ear. She looked over at him, knowing that it would mean her audio would be playing out loud. He nodded again to confirm that he didn’t mind, especially since whoever was on the phone was loud enough to have been heard anyway. It wouldn’t make much difference. Plus, Kyle was nosey and wanted to know who she was talking to.

“If I go blind from seeing your ugly mug, I’m suing you,” She teased whoever was on the phone as she switched to Facetime. Kyle could just about see from the corner of his eye that it was a man with the same hair colour as Y/N. She pretended to shield her eyes, groaning dramatically. “It’s so awful! So much worse than I expected! I can feel my eyes melting away!”

“Ah, there she is!” The man on the phone laughed along with her teasing. “The Bean Queen herself!”

“I swear if you call me that one more time, I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Kick my ass? I’m in Belgium, sis! Your short legs could never reach!” The nickname ‘sis’ and the mentions of Belgium connected the dots for Kyle. Y/N had spoken about her brother being in Europe with his fiance, and the man did share some similarities in looks from what Kyle could tell. “Where are you?”

“Bedroom,” Y/N answered with a simple shrug.

“Okay, smartass, you’re in a bedroom, but that’s not your bedroom, is it?” Her brother pointed out. “Not unless you’ve suddenly gotten really into… What is that poster for? Basketball?”

“Oh yeah! Totally! I love when they….” She looked around for some sort of inspiration. “Bounce the ball and do that… throwing thing into the… the ball basket holder?” Kyle couldn’t help but laugh at this. He made a mental note to try and teach her basketball terms at some point.

“Wait, who is that laughing?” Y/N’s brother asked loudly, causing Kyle to stop laughing immediately. “Is that a boy? Are you in a boy’s room? Why is my baby sister in a boy’s room?”

“You do remember that I am an adult woman now, not the little kid who used to cling to your legs whenever you tried to walk, right?” Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically. “But if you must know, I’m staying at my friend Kyle’s house with his family for the holidays because I apparently have no family of my own!”

“Hey! I am right here!”

“You are in Belgium!”

“Okay, fair point….” He paused. “Are you going to introduce me to this ‘friend’ of yours?” Y/N looked at Kyle, who was still standing by the door, worried about moving and interrupting the call. He nodded to confirm he was okay with being introduced, trying to hide his nervousness. What if her brother hated him? She patted the bed, so he joined her on it, making sure to sit far enough apart so that they weren’t touching. He didn’t want her brother to get the wrong idea and jump to conclusions.

“Henry, this is Kyle,” She turned the phone around so the two could see one another. “Kyle, this is my asshole of a brother, Henry. Happy now, dickwad?”

“Yo, Kyle, what is she paying you to stick around?” Henry asked, a smug grin toying at his lips. “Gotta be something good to put up with her.”

“Terrible fries and even worse company,” Y/N joked. She had picked up that Kyle wasn’t comfortable answering the question, unwilling to insult her but not wanting Henry to think he took his question seriously. “Now, why did you decide to grace me with your horrifying presence?”

“It’s Thanksgiving for starters…” Henry sighed, telling her it was something more than that. “Uh… Did Mom tell you?”

“That she’s moving?” Her mood dropped instantly. Kyle looked at her in concern. “Telling me is giving her too much credit. She sent a shitty text saying I need to get my stuff out, or she’ll dump it. Though I guess a text is more than I’ve gotten from her in months. I was starting to think that she had just lost my number.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask you, but… I’m in Belgium,” Henry sighed, looking away from the screen. “I can’t get back in time to get my stuff… Do you think you could grab and store it for me, please?”

“Where do you expect me to keep it?” She shook her head, a mixture of disbelief and disappointment clearly present in her voice. “I don’t have the space to store your shit as well as my own. My apartment is tiny, and I can barely move in it as it is!”

“Please, bean? I’m begging you!” He pleaded, looking around. “Dylan and I just adopted a dog, and we can’t bring it on a plane yet-”

“You adopted a dog, and you didn’t tell me?” Y/N gasped, sitting forward more. “I demand to see this dog right this second!”

Kyle noticed how her entire demeanour had changed at the mention of the dog. He couldn’t tell if Henry had done this on purpose, knowing his sister would get distracted and no longer be upset with him. He hoped he hadn’t but couldn’t shake the feeling that he had. Either way, he didn’t want to upset Y/N by pointing it out.

“This is Cranky Gordon!” Henry lifted up the cutest beagle puppy they had ever seen. “He only bites a little bit!” As if on queue, the dog tried to turn around and snap at him. “Okay, okay! I’m putting you down! That is why he’s called Cranky Gordon.”

Y/N had stayed on the call with her brother until Sheila announced that dinner was ready. The spread was incredible, and she went back for thirds… and fourths… and fifths. Sixths were considered, but then pudding was announced.

After it was all done and Y/N felt like she couldn’t move, Kyle was mortified when his mom pulled out the photo album.

“No! We are not doing this!” He jumped up as fast as he could, considering how full he felt from the meal, and tried to pull the album from his mom’s hands. “Y/N doesn’t want to see the baby pictures!”

“Y/N definitely wants to see the baby pictures!” Y/N grinned deviously, Kyle glared at her in a plea to get her to stop, but she wasn’t backing down.

“Bubbie, it is a family tradition!” Sheila sighed, holding a firm grip on the book as she settled down on the couch next to Y/N, who looked over her arm eagerly when the album was opened. “Here is Kyle taking his first bath. Look at him! His little scrunched-up face! He was such an ugly little baby, but we loved him.…”

“The hair!” Y/N gasped, grinning up at Kyle as he stood over them in disapproval. “I didn’t realise babies could be born with that much hair!”

“Neither did I! It was quite a shock when he popped out!” Sheila laughed. “I thought he had something stuck to his head… Oh! This is the first time he used the potty all by himself!”

“This is humiliating…” He groaned, giving up and sitting on the arm of the couch next to Y/N.

“What’s wrong, bro?” Ike teased. “If you didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of your girlfriend, you shouldn’t have brought her to Thanksgiving.”

“She is not my-” Kyle started to protest, but Sheila spoke up before he could finish.

“Don’t worry, Ike; we’ll get your album out next.”

a/n - let me know if you would like to be on the taglist for this fic

current taglist - @n0tangeliccc @solana-central @charqing-qing @eiizabeth-torres @hand-writxen @audiliah @cosmicbroenies @himoutolikesjojo @katnipkoffee @desertofdessert @inkedintothepaper @ky-uwu @quackyfae @marwvy @baubub @kiahapologist @novalforfeb @da-extroverted-introvert @welp030

#alaysh #alaysh suddenlybambi #kyle broflovski #as long as you stay here #kyle broflovski fic #south park fanfiction #south park kyle #south park fic #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle x reader #sp kyle x reader

109 notes · View notes