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#again! a conversation that was supposed to be about setting boundaries!
the-everqueen · 2 years
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but like if a bipoc tells you, a white person, “sometimes you put me in positions that make me feel marginalized,” and your response is “i’m disappointed to hear that because i think i try really really hard to be Woke uwu” and the bipoc says “okay but your response makes ME the problem, which is racist” and you say, “i just think there should be space for MY feelings”
you deserve to have your kneecaps kicked in
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baeshijima · 1 year
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— perfect
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your parents believed you were destined for each other, though it would seem they hadn't taken into account your differing ideals.
CONTAINS : gn!reader, 1.2k wc, fluff, arranged!marriage au, basically arranged partners-to-strangers-to-lovers, jing yuan in denial until he can... no longer deny it
A/N : this was supposed to be a one paragraph brainrot. what happened.
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when you first heard of your prospective marriage partner, you didn't feel all that much for him. granted, there was only so much you could feel when listening to your parents ramble on. he was supposedly the son of a family friend — the ones who served the realm-keeping commission. he was set to graduate the academy in a few months, but that's all you really paid attention to before tuning out.
it wasn't long when you finally met, and you soon discovered you didn't mind him as much as you'd thought. well, that was until you took note of the clear lack of interest he held for you (for anything since you saw him, for that matter). he was aloof, never speaking more than a couple words before turning away and focusing on something else. with the boundaries clear alongside his lack of interest, you decided it wasn't worth the effort. your parents will just have to deal with it.
the next you heard of him was a few months later, the day after his graduation. apparently, he had enlisted into the cloud knights and was now part of their ranks.
your parents called it rebellious, you called it escaping his fate.
you don't see nor hear from him for a couple of years, instead finding out his achievements through gossipmongers and the occasional exaggerated tales you hear on your strolls. at least he's out there making a name for himself and doing what he loves, free and unshackled at the hands of fate.
he bumps into you when he's on patrol on the luofu, and at first he thinks it to be you trying to reach out again, only to be stumped at the uninterested — dare he say, annoyed — look you give him before stalking away in the opposite direction. but he shrugs it off thinking you had a bad day, returning to his duties in maintaining the peace of the luofu.
he runs into you again when you're out food shopping. it's a complete and utter coincidence you're both in the same place once more; you out on errands while he is on duty. oddly enough, he's doused in a wave of peace and content from just watching you from afar, the knowledge that he is capable of protecting you has him prouder than he'd like to admit.
that doesn't last for long, however, for you suddenly shift in place, your expression now more clear than it was earlier. jing yuan's heart stops then, plummeting into an abysmal pit as his eyes zero in on the new expression. your smile is far more beautiful than anything he could ever hope to imagine.
(in a trance, he wonders if you would ever direct that smile towards him.)
it's not until a little later he finds himself wondering about how you're faring, having half the mind to reach out through a letter before ultimately scrapping the idea. after all, he has to focus on his training, not over his arranged partner who probably doesn't even want him after that stunt he pulled all those years ago (he wouldn't either, if he were in your shoes).
and so he ignores the ache in his heart when he spots you from his peripherals. he ignores the urge to abandon his post and remove the bags from your grip and transfer them into his own. he ignores the desire to have a proper conversation with you, one that doesn't result in him being tongue-tied and you annoyed. he ignores the desperation surging through his nerves to hold your hand in front of everyone, wondering what your skin would feel like against his calloused palms.
he ignores it all, and he ignores it well.
so why is it now he finds himself breaking into a sprint after catching a glimpse of your side profile, ignoring the calls of his fellow knights in fear of losing you — the chance to finally speak to you and settle this once and for all because screw it. screw his hesitation, screw his yearning — screw it all!
when he finally reaches you he's at a loss, the words which once seemed so clear in his mind now fizzled out on the tip of his tongue. it's laughable, really, how he's praised for being quick-witted and yet he's reduced to nothing but a gaping mess in your presence. so he just stares at you with a heaving chest, your furrowed countenance making his heart stutter more than it really should.
it's not until you turn to leave that he panics, latching onto your wrist in a last-ditch attempt as a strangled "wait!" flies past his lips. you don't recoil from his touch, so he supposes that's a good thing, even if your glare is anything but that.
"i... i want to apologise for how we started off," he stutters, tripping over his words as he lays himself bare, exposing his heart for you to judge; for you to determine whether he is worthy enough to be by your side. there's so much more for him to say — so much more he wants, no, needs to get off his chest before you slip away yet again.
should he start off with how he could only speak a couple of words when you first met because he feared stumbling over his words and making a fool of himself? or should he say he wanted to build up his courage before facing you, and that part of his reasoning to join the knights was in hopes of finding that? (although it was a bit of a belated realisation, but no one's keeping track!) oh, or should he start off with—
"is that all you have to say?" your voice is smoother than he last remembers, though maybe it's the fact he's only ever heard you speak directly to him a couple of times, having heard your voice when on patrol more than he has face to face. if it weren't for you clearing your throat, jing yuan would have forgotten to answer.
he quickly snaps himself out of his trance, pushing down the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck. "if it's alright with you, would you..." he gulps in apprehension, chest constricting as he fumbles to regather his thoughts. he sucks in a breath and lifts his head to meet your gaze, revelling in your slightly widening eyes. "if it's alright with you, would you like to start over again?"
silence ripples between you after his words. can you hear his heart hammering behind his sternum? can you see his breaths quicken in anticipation? can you feel his hand become unbearably warm against the skin of your wrist?
oh god he hopes not.
but then your voice ceases his thoughts, your amused smile doing little to help his above mentioned symptoms. "i'm [name]. it's nice to meet you," your voice trails off a little, and he doesn't bother hiding the growing smile when he realises what you're doing.
and so he eagerly plays along, losing himself in the warmth you provide when you slip your hand into his.
"i am jing yuan. and... likewise, [name]."
(jing yuan decides the sensation of your skin against his calloused palms is unlike anything he's felt before. if he had to put it into words, he would say it's perfect.)
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if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33
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ickadori · 4 months
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++ 𝐘𝐔𝐉𝐈 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 — 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆
[summary] Yuji knows that he could never have a normal, healthy relationship with you, not with Sukuna inhabiting his body and his line of work, and he accepts that. He’s content observing you from the sidelines, watching as you go about living your life, none the wiser of the spectator watching from the shadows. VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST.
[cws] yandere -> yuji. fem reader. stalking. voyeurism -> peeping tom. masturbation. reader is mentioned to be a virgin but doesn’t lose it. blood/tending to a wound -> yuji was hurt by a curse.
[an] this was originally for the valentines event i mentioned, but that won’t be out on time so im just gonna post as i finish these up!
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Yuji is content with watching you from afar.
He’s not delusional enough to think that the two of you could ever work out—perhaps in another world. One without curses, one where he’s not putting his life on the line every day to protect people that are none the wiser of the monsters that lurk, one where there’s not one of those same monsters living inside him.
Sukuna is a liability, and Yuji loves you too much to put you in a position where you could possibly be harmed. He has good enough control over the curse, but there’s still a chance, a tiny, minuscule chance that things could go wrong, and he just wasn’t willing to take that chance.
So, he kept his distance.
Or tried to.
At first he tried to forget you even existed. To avoid seeing you in the morning on the commute to work, he took a later train, resigning himself to having to run a few blocks to keep from being late. That had worked, for a bit, but then you had found another job, one that required you to come in a bit later, and the both of you had wound up on the same train once again.
He turned to ignoring you - he didn’t so much as turn to look in your direction when you stepped through the train’s doors, acting as if you were some inconsequential thing, and that worked, too, for a bit. But it seemed as if everyone was suddenly going to work a bit later than usual, bodies filling all the seats until eventually the only available one was the one adjacent to him.
He could have still chosen to ignore you, but then you had spoken to him, a simple ‘Crowded today, huh?’ that was more rhetorical than anything, but the only thing Yuji was capable of controlling was Sukuna, not his desires, and he had answered you with a love-stricken smile.
‘It is, isn’t it?’
And it went from there.
He went from pretending you didn’t exist to anxiously waiting for the moment he’d get to see you in the morning. He’d greet you with a smile and a grandiose gesture to the empty seat beside him, and you’d sit down with a sweet ‘thank you’ and an even sweeter smile.
Your conversations went from common pleasantries to something deeper, something more…intimate. Because what other word could he use to describe the way you vented your grievances about work, friends, and family to him? You were allowing him to see a glimpse into your life - a private, special thing that he hoped many weren’t privy to - but he soon learned that a glimpse couldn’t sate him.
Yuji found that the forty-five-minute commute wasn’t enough—how could it be? Twenty-four hours in a day, and he was supposed to make do with not even one? That was wholly unfair! He had already given up so much - the possibility of a romantic relationship with you for your safety-, he deserved a few more moments with you, didn’t he?
But Yuji knew that any more time spent with you would lead to him abandoning the boundary he had set for himself…but as Gojo had taught him, there’s always a loophole to be found.
~
You like to collect trinkets.
Anything that catches your eye and you’re toting it up to the register - it’s a problem. Cute, but a problem. Your mother agrees.
“Yes, mom, I know I just bought a set of pens last week.” You groan, phone tucked between your ear and shoulder as you attempt to organize the multitude of things on your desk. Pens, pencils, stress balls, notebooks, stuffed animals, vinyl figurines. “But these were themed after one of the shows I watch…yeah, that’s the one! You remembered!” You laugh through a smile. “It’s not an obsession. It’s a hobby!”
Yuji shifts in his spot where he’s seated across from your place and looking into your baywindow, one earphone in his ear, the other carefully placed in the drawer of the desk you’re currently standing at. Your voice is filtering in through the earphone, and he thanks the advancement of technology that’s allowed him to effortlessly be able to listen in on your conversation instead of having to rely on reading your lips...although he wouldn’t have minded that too much.
Your lips look inviting; soft, plump and coated in a shiny gloss. You have a habit of sinking your teeth into your bottom lip when you laugh, something he finds insanely attractive, and you do it now, laughing at something your mother has said. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, nose scrunching up just a tad, and Yuji finds himself struggling to suck in air as he watches you.
“I’m laughing because you’re absolutely ridiculous. I’m not letting you set me up on a blind date, mom.” His teeth gnash together, a frown quickly overtaking his features. Date? “I’m more than capable of finding a boyfriend on my own, thank you very much.” His pulse, which had quickened to a mildly alarming level, slowly goes back to normal as you shoot down the suggestion. Good girl. You didn’t need a boyfriend - not if it couldn’t be him.
Your mother meant well, he’s sure. She likely just wanted her daughter to have someone to keep her company, to give her a shoulder to cry or lean on whenever she needed it, to have someone in the city to look out for her. While Yuji couldn’t be your shoulder to lean on, nor keep you company past a short train ride, he was looking out for you. The world was dangerous, people were murdered left and right. Curses killed indiscriminately; men, women, children, the elderly, it didn’t matter to them. They killed as easily as they breathed, and if you didn’t have him watching over you, it was possible that you’d meet that same fate.
“God, mom, that is none of your business!” You grip your phone in one hand, your eyebrows pulling together as your mouth turns down. “So what if I am? It’s a social construct anyways! It’s not that big a deal—no, I’m not waiting for marriage...I’m not into women, either!”
Yuji lets out a shaky breath. You’re a virgin. He’s never been one to harp on a person’s sexual history, or lack thereof, it didn’t make any difference to him, all he cared about was getting a resounding yes before he got down to business, but the thought of you being untouched sent a swirl of something hot, electric, and exhilarating down to his gut.
His body warmed further in the already humid air, cock fattening up against his thigh, and he clears his throat as he tries to keep his thoughts clean.
“I’m hanging up the phone now, mom. Love you lots, bye—oh! And no dates. If I find some man at my door with roses and chocolates like the last time then I’m going to phone the police and get him put on a list, okay? Okay!” You quickly end the call, your phone flying through the air before it lands on your couch, and cover your face with your hands as you let out a muted scream.
Yuji chuckles.
~
He shouldn’t be here, he knows that, but he had just gotten through with a mission not even two blocks from your place and figured he could just check in on you. He hadn’t seen you this morning, his work taking him to the other side of Tokyo, and it wouldn’t be exaggerating to say he was going through a bit of a withdrawal.
I’ll just look in to make sure she’s alright, he tells himself. Just a quick peek to confirm that you were in your home for the night and okay. He’d be two minutes tops...
That’s what he had said, so how had he ended up like this? Cock in hand and panting as he watched your fingers furiously flick back and forth over your clit. You were sprawled on your couch and facing the window, panties hooked around one ankle and legs spread. Your nightgown, something too thin to offer you any real warmth, was pushed up under your chin, the hand that wasn’t desperately rubbing at your cunt pinching at hard nipples.
This is the sight he had been met with when he turned onto your street, and he only had a second to be angry at the fact that anyone could have walked by and saw you like this, before the need to touch himself outweighed the want to reprimand you. It was late, well into the hours of the night where the streets were usually deserted, so he figured he couldn’t place too much blame on you, especially when this all worked to his benefit.
The notion that this was wrong, so incredibly wrong, floated around in his head for a bit, but it was squeezed and siphoned out with the dollops of pre-cum that landed on the steps leading up to your place.
Blood fills his tastebuds as his teeth sink into his lip in an effort to keep quiet. His nostrils flare as he breathes hard through his nose, hand practically a blur as it flies up and down the length of his cock, eyes trained on the way you rub at your clit in a circular motion. Around and around, up and down, the both of you quickly work yourselves up, and Yuji grunts, hips jerking up into his hand, long lashes fluttering when he sees your hips raise up and your thighs snap shut around your hand.
He finishes soon after, balls tightening and veins in his neck and on the back of his hand protruding as ropes of cum dirty his fingers. He squeezes as he nears his tip, making sure to milk out every last drop, and he huffs and pants as he lets his lip go free. He harshly swallows, knees giving out as he plops himself down onto your stoop, jittery hands working to stuff his now soft cock back into his pants and boxers.
He looks down at his hand and groans at the sight, his head tipping back, only for a loud thump to sound as it knocks against the wood of your door. Yuji curses, quickly scrambling up to his feet as he draws his hood over his head and hurries down the street.
~
A groan slips out of Yuji’s mouth as his weary body crashes down into the seat of the train. The car is empty, expected due to how late it is -nearing midnight-, and he’s thankful for it as he lifts the hem of his sweater up with a grimace, revealing a slash right above his belly button, the dark blood matted in with the hair of his happy trail.
It’s not life threatening, but fuck does it hurt. A curse had turned out to be a higher grade than the report had said, and Yuji had gone in a bit too hot, resulting in a few too many scrapes and cuts, but no broken bones, thankfully.
The bag on his back is pulled off, and he undoes the zipper and rifles through it, hand closing around a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a few gauzes. He stuffs the hem of his sweater in his mouth and bites down, simultaneously twisting off the cap to the bottle, and he counts to three in his head before pouring the contents on the cut, a muffled curse sounding as his muscles tense and flex.
The train slows to a stop as it comes to a station, and Yuji is too focused on wrapping the gauze around his midsection to hear the sound of heels clicking against the train floor.
“Ngh, shit.” He pulls the gauze tight as he rips it with his teeth, quickly tying the two ends together in a small knot after. It’s a half-assed job, but it’ll do until he makes it home where he has more suppl—
“Yuji?”
His head snaps up at the familiar voice, and two sets of wide eyes clash as the both of you fall silent. Your gaze falls to the dressings on his stomach, which are already tinged red with his blood, and you gasp before you’re quickly rushing over.
“What happened?”
“Why are you out so late?”
You both talk over each other, but Yuji repeats his a bit louder, because his question is clearly more important at the moment. Don’t you know how dangerous it is to be out this late? What were you doing? Where were you? Why are you so dressed up?
“I’m coming from a friend’s housewarming party, it ran a bit late, too late if you ask me. I was ready to go hours ag—wait, that doesn’t matter! You’re bleeding, Yuji. What happened?” You sit in the seat beside him and turn your body, your knees brushing against his, and he suddenly finds it a bit harder to breathe. “Oh my God, you’re pale. You need to go to the hospital.” Your hand reaches out to touch his forehead, your fingers pushing away the strands plastered to his damp forehead to touch the cool skin directly.
“No... no hospital, I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.” He says, and compared to all the other injuries he’s gotten, this could be passed off as a scratch. You give him a disbelieving look.
“It could get infected.”
Your concern for him makes his chest swell with nothing short of love, and he reaches a hand out to gingerly rest it on your knee, the tips of his ears heating when he realizes this is the first time he’s touched you. “I’ll be fine, okay? It just looks bad, but it’s only superficial.”
You frown, teeth worrying at your bottom lip, and the action nearly puts Yuji in a trance. He wants to bite your lip. Not hard enough to seriously hurt you, but enough to pull one of those cute little gasps forth and paint a look of surprise on your face. He’d kiss it better afterwards, of course.
“…okay.” You relent, still looking as if you want to argue. “But at least tell me what happened? Were you attacked?” You take a cautious glance around, as if whatever did this to him is lurking nearby and not dead.
“Yeah,” he nods, and your eyes widen. “Some asshole tried to rob me. Guess he didn’t like that I left my wallet at home.” He gives a chuckle that he hopes puts you at ease.
“Oh my God, Yuji, we have to call the police! He could have killed you!” Guess not. You rifle through the purse in your lap to retrieve your phone, and before you can punch in the number and make this situation more complicated than he wants to deal with right now, he’s slipping your phone from your hand and dropping it back into your bag.
“I’m fine, really.”
“You’re bleeding.” You pointedly look to his stomach, and Yuji smooths his sweater back down, jaw clenching as he fights back a wince when he agitates the wound. “I saw that!”
The train comes to a slow stop, his stop, and he gives you a sheepish smile before standing to his feet. “Really, thanks for worrying, but it’s nothing serious. I’ll be fi—” His words get caught in his throat when you stand up beside him and curl your arms around one of his, a determined look plastered on your face as you keep him rooted in his spot.
“Since you’re refusing to go to a hospital, then you’ll come back to mine and let me patch you up properly - and if you get any worse, I will be calling an ambulance, got it?” He turns his head to the side in order to hide a dopey grin into his shoulder.
“...got it.”
~
“Luckily, it’s not deep.” You say from where you’re kneeled on the floor, Yuji laid down on the couch cushions in front of you. His shirt is discarded, neatly folded and placed on your coffee table, and your brows are furrowed in concentration as you gently dab at the wound on his stomach.
The bleeding has slowed considerably, and while it’s still incredibly sore, the stabbing pain from before has gradually subsided as well. It’s not deep enough to need stitches, which is the same conclusion you come to after yet another careful observation.
“Told ya I was fine.”
“I would hardly call this fine, Yuji.” Your eyes slide over to meet his, and the hairs on his arms raise as he basks in the sound of you saying his name. Oh. He wants you to keep saying it, in different connotations even - he wants to hear you cry it out while his face is buried between your thighs, wants to hear it choked on a gasp when he slides in for the first time, wants to hear it between sobs as he finds your sweet spot, wants to hear it screamed out when he’s made you cream all over his cock, he never wants to stop hearing it.
Won’t you say it for him again?
“I really do think you should go to the police, Yuji…if not for yourself, then for the next person at least. What if they hurt someone else?” You say as you smooth the last butterfly stitch into place. “You’re not… you’re not in trouble or anything, right?”
“Trouble?” He frowns, and when he takes in the cautious look on your face, he realizes what you mean. “No! I’m not! I haven’t...” He can see you retreating, hands curling in your lap as you lean back from him, and he quickly sits up, teeth gritting as he does. “Hey, I’ll go to the station in the morning, okay? I just.. my uncle is a cop, and I know he’s gonna go on some crazy manhunt once he finds out what happened.”
The lie comes out smooth, and Yuji would feel bad if you didn’t immediately relax after hearing his words. You’re so gullible, he thinks to himself. Would you have believed the same lie if someone else had said it? Or did you believe it because he, Yuji, had been the one saying it? Did you trust him that much?
“That’s a good thing. The person who did that should be arrested.” You frown again as you look at his stomach. “Are you sure you’re okay? I think it looks agitated—”
“Hey,” his hands move to cup your cheeks, an action that’s far too intimate for two people who haven’t talked outside of a train ride to work...but you had invited him here, hadn’t you? You had clung to him on the walk over, your arms wrapped around one of his as you questioned him over and over again on whether he was growing dizzy, nauseous, tired.
You had guided him to sit on your couch and helped him take his shirt off — you had touched him with those hands that could do no wrong, tended to him so tenderly, fueled the fantasies playing on repeat in his head.
“Yuji?” You call, breath fanning over his lips, and he harshly swallows, adam’s apple bobbing as he does. His eyes flit around your face, unable to focus on one particular thing; eyes, nose, lips, brows, the little hairs at your temples, the dark freckle-like spots underneath your eyes, the length and curl of your lashes, the shape of your hairline, he finds himself taking it all in, greedily.
He leans in just, giving you ample opportunity to move away or tell him no, but you only wet your lips, lashes fluttering and breath quickening, and he doesn’t waste another second before he’s leaning in.
Your lips meet and his chest tightens, hands slightly trembling as he basks in the feeling of you, which is all he can do, all thoughts effectively cleared from his head. Your lips move hesitantly against his, slow, unsure, but he has no problem taking the lead.
One hand moves to clutch at the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss, teeth gently nipping at your bottom lip and pulling forth a soft sound. He takes the opportunity to delve inside, tongue sliding alongside your own as he groans at the taste of you.
Heaven.
The two of you only part to suck in a shuddering breath and then you’re back on each other, your hands hovering over his chest, hesitating. Yuji kisses the corner of your mouth and gently grabs your wrist, guiding your hands to his chest. “Touch me.”
You jerkily nod, hands roaming his chest, prodding and squeezing and rubbing. Your thumbs skim over his nipples, and he hisses through clenched teeth as they immediately harden. Your eyes dart up to him, wide and twinkling, and you do it again. “Shit,” he grunts.
“Can I…?” You trail off with a whisper, and he mindlessly nods, cock throbbing in his pants as he spreads his legs wider to give you more room. Your head leans forward, and he intently watches as a pink tongue peeks out from between swollen lips to flatten over one of his nipples.
His dick jumps in his pants, and he sinks his teeth into his tongue to stave off the overwhelming urge to come in his pants. Your tongue flicks over the bud, and blood fills his tastebuds before he’s pulling you up to straddle his lap, tip leaking drool at the dejected look on your face.
“Sorry, sweetie,” he kisses at the corner of your mouth, hands moving to palm at your own chest to return the favor. “But I’m not ready to come yet.” He squeezes, jiggles, tests the weight of your breast in his palms, pinches at your nipples through the thin fabric, all the while his hips are rocking up into yours, throbbing cock knocking into your clothed sex. He can feel the heat of your cunt - sweltering, inviting, and he wants to dip his cock in and never pull it out, but not yet, not now.
Your back meets the cushion, your head bouncing off the seat from the suddenness of it all, and one of Yuji’s knees plants itself on the couch as his foot gains purchase on the floor. He makes quick work of your pants and underwear, mouth running dry at the sight of your wet pussy.
Fuck.
He wants to eat you out - bury his head between your thighs and lap up your slick until the sun rises, but he knows the tip of his cock is turning purple even without looking at it, and while he usually has no problem putting his own needs aside when it comes to you, he feels like being a bit selfish tonight.
Your eyes are wide as he pops the button on his pants, your blown pupils tracking the movements of his hand as it tugs his cock free before tucking the elastic of his boxers under round, full balls. You gasp, a low sound that makes his cock jump, and you marvel at the sight. So cute. He catches a bead of pre-cum with his finger and brings it to his mouth without thinking, pink tongue swiping out to lick it up before his hand is returning to his cock.
He shuffles closer, a shuddering breath leaving him as he slaps it against your folds. “Yuji,” you whisper out, and he hums, eyes focused on the way the shine of your slick transfers over to him as he slides himself back and forth against you.
Fuuuck.
Yuji doesn’t miss the way you tense as his cockhead parts your folds, drool pooling in his mouth as he watches the way your hole —untouched, un-stretched, un-fucked— clenches around nothing.
“I won’t ... I won’t put it in.” He assures. While you hadn’t divulged your lack of experience, Yuji was still well aware of it, and he doesn’t think he could live with himself knowing that your first time together was when he had a gaping wound on his stomach limiting his movements. You deserved his best, and he’d give it to you, in time, but this would do for now. “Just hold yourself open for me. Can you do that?”
You meekly nod, but your hands fumble as they move down between your thighs. Yuji licks his lips and smiles, his hands moving to cover yours as he places them where he wants them. “Good - just like that.” Your fingers keep your lips spread, your hole and clit exposed, and he licks his lips again, a groan bubbling up out of his throat as he slots his cock right up against you. You gasp, body jumping, and he slowly cants his hips forward, length sliding up. His tip nudges against your clit, and your eyebrows furrow as your thighs move to close, but his hands keep them pinned open. “You okay?”
“It’s—oh.” You gasp again when he pulls his hips back, cock heavy against your cunt as it easily glides thanks to the ample amount of slick and pre-cum mixing together. The fat tip catches on your hole, and he has to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from popping it in and fucking it in deep. “Yuji.”
Your eyes are locked onto his face, lips parted in an ‘o’ and eyebrows pulled together - he nearly comes at the sight and ends this all too early. “Look, sweetheart,” he rasps, his eyes moving down to where you’ve got his cock nice and wet, and he knows you’ve followed his gaze when he hears your sharp intake of breath and sees your clit twitch. “There you go. Watch what I do to you.”
He keeps your thighs spread wide as he rocks into you, hips rolling and tip drooling as he goes through the motions of how he will fuck you. He’ll go slow at first, like how he is now, give you time to get adjusted to the feeling of a cock filling you up and stretching you wide. He wants you to feel every inch of him, every vein and curve, wants you to feel him dragging along your walls and brushing against that secret little spot hidden away inside of you.
Then he’d go a bit faster, give you a taste of what it felt like to really be fucked, show you what you had to look forward to for the rest of your life, because there was no way he could go back to how it was before, not after you invited him into your home and kissed him and let him between these soft, sweet thighs.
Oh no, you were his now.
Completely.
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steddiehyperfixation · 6 months
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don't you forget about me (part four)
(part one)(part two)(part three)
Eddie wakes from a thankfully dreamless sleep, his head on his pillow now, which is somehow far less comfortable than Steve’s solid chest. Speaking of… Eddie looks around; Steve isn’t there at all anymore, and Eddie is alone. He’s disappointed, though not entirely surprised, that Harrington’s left him again despite his promises. 
In fact, he’s honestly more surprised when less than two minutes into his wallowing in the empty room, the door is pushed open by none other than Steve Harrington carrying two trays of food, one balanced on each hand like a goddamn waiter. It’s kind of adorable, actually, Eddie thinks, and that thought surprises him a little too. 
“Oh, you’re awake! Good morning.” Steve sets one of the trays on Eddie’s lap. His smile is bright, though there’s a slight, uncertain wobble to it. “Shitty hospital food and shitty hospital TV, right?” 
“Right.” Eddie’s face breaks into a grin, something light unfurling in his chest. He glances at the plate of gross food on his lap then back up at Steve, and he admits, “You know, for a second there I thought you’d left again.” 
Steve shakes his head as he settles into the chair beside the bed with his own tray. “I promised you I’d hang out today. I’m a man of my word.”
“Good.” Eddie smiles and grabs a remote off the bedside table, turning on the TV. “Now for our mealtime entertainment, let’s see what’s on the shitty TV today.”
The television starts blaring some old black-and-white rerun of I Love Lucy. Eddie’s immediately about to change the channel, but then he notices the way Steve’s eyes have lit up. “Hey, that’s not shitty TV!” Steve says. “I used to watch this with my mom all the time when I was a kid.” 
Eddie snorts. “Of course you did.”  
Steve gives him an indignant look. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 
“Nothing.” Eddie shakes his head evasively, shoveling a forkful of rubbery scrambled eggs into his mouth so he doesn’t have to say anything else. 
Steve just rolls his eyes, almost affectionately, like they’ve had conversations like this before. He chews on a flimsy piece of bacon and makes a face, nose scrunching up. “Ugh, you really weren’t kidding about the shitty food, though.” 
“Nope,” Eddie laughs, “I really wasn’t. Thanks for catering it though.” He swallows down another mouthful of food, and then adds with a little less levity, “And, uh, thanks for last night, too - for calming me down. Don’t think I’ve said that yet.”
“Oh, yeah, of course.” Steve gives a small smile, shrug, slight shake of his head, a tiny pinch between his brows like he doesn't quite get why Eddie even feels the need to thank him for that. “That's what I’m here for. I just hope I didn't cross any boundaries or anything, holding onto you like that.” 
Now it's Eddie's turn to give him a confused little smile and a head shake. “No, of course not. That was exactly what I needed.” He attempts to add some humor back into the conversation, jokingly quips, “Although, to be fair, I never did think that King Steve would ever be caught dead in a bed with The Freak.”
Steve had hazarded another bite of his breakfast, trying the eggs this time, only to choke on it at Eddie’s comment. He coughs, hits his fist against his chest, and hurriedly takes a sip from the water bottle on his tray. 
“Jesus.” Eddie tries not to take offense, assuming Steve’s reaction to be one of disgust at the double entendre. “That bad of a thought, huh?” 
Steve shakes his head and clears his throat, face flushed. “No, no, it’s not that, man. Food just went down the wrong pipe, is all.” 
“Uh huh…” 
“Seriously.” Steve gulps down some more water, quiet for a moment before adding, “You know I’m not King Steve anymore, right? Haven’t been for a while now, since even long before your memories end.” 
“Yeah, I know. You ditched Tommy H. and Carol your junior year, and then Nancy Wheeler dumped you and Billy Hargrove stole your crown and bashed your face in your senior year, I remember,” Eddie recalls. “But for the most part you were still well-known and well-liked, still this popular, pretty, rich boy jock all the girls still drooled over, so.” He shrugs. “Always figured ‘King’ still fit.” 
“Right…” Steve raises his eyebrows as Eddie lists off these events of his life, looking at him with a smirk of barely-hidden amusement. “I forgot you were obsessed with me.”  
Eddie’s jaw drops in exaggerated offense. “I was not obsessed with you.” 
“Were too,” Steve taunts.
“Was not.” 
“Were too.” 
“Was not.” Eddie chucks a piece of bacon at him. 
Steve gasps indignantly as the bacon slaps him in the face and tumbles onto his lap. “You child!” But he’s laughing, retaliates by flinging a forkful of eggs back at Eddie. 
The conversation devolves into a full-on food fight, shrieking and cackling as they pelt each other with flying bits of eggs and bacon. It turns out shitty hospital food serves far better as ammunition than it does as anything actually edible. 
A nurse chooses the exact wrong time to decide to come in and check on Eddie, walking into the room at just the right moment to be caught in the crossfire and hit with a stray chunk of egg. Both boys freeze. 
“Uh oh…” Eddie mutters under his breath. Just his luck - it’s not the young, nice nurse, Katie, who always laughs at his jokes, but Nurse Margaret, the old, mean one who he’s never once seen crack a smile. She flicks the egg bit off her shoulder, leveling them with a stern frown as she marches over. 
Eddie casts a furtive glance at Steve who looks back at him, lips twitching like he’s trying not to laugh again, and Eddie feels mirth bubbling back up in his own chest too. He has to look away from Steve again before he loses it. 
He sucks his lips in, clamping them together between his teeth to hold in his laughter, and he stares up at Margaret with a thin-lipped, guilty, upside down smile as she chides them both for making a mess and scolds Eddie for exerting himself and risking reopening his wounds. Steve mumbles an apology and starts cleaning up the scattered bits of food strewn about the room while Margaret double checks that Eddie hasn’t, in fact, reopened his wounds or gotten worse in any way. Once the nurse is satisfied with both the state of the room and the state of Eddie, she whisks away what’s left of their food trays and stalks out of the room with one last disapproving look over her shoulder.
Then and only then does Eddie risk eye-contact with Steve again, and the two of them immediately burst back into laughter. Steve nearly doubles over with it, leaning against the trash can where he’d just been dusting off his hands. “Oh my god,” he chuckles out. “Her face when I hit her with that egg? I was so sure she was gonna kick me out.” 
“Nearly gave mean old Margaret an aneurysm, and that was just from hitting her shoulder,” Eddie snickers. “Imagine if you hit her in the eye or something.” 
Steve does his best impression of Margaret’s angry scowl and reproachful huff, and Eddie cackles. He laughs so hard his sides ache and his injuries hurt, wounds aggravated by the movement of his laughter, but he doesn’t care, the pain far too distant beneath the cushion of painkillers and positive emotion he currently feels so high on. 
“You’ve still got some egg in your hair,” Steve notices with another amused snort as he pushes himself away from the trash can and approaches Eddie’s bed again. He plucks the offending bit of food out of Eddie’s curls and smooths down the hair where it had been stuck. “There.” 
Steve’s fingertips brush ever so lightly against Eddie’s cheek when he fixes his hair. It sends a pleasant sort of shiver down Eddie’s spine, turning his laughter to breathless giggles just for a moment. “Thanks.”
Steve flicks the egg chunk into the trash before sinking back into the bedside chair with a soft sigh and a warm smile. “God, I missed this,” he says, “just laughing with you.” 
“Yeah.” Eddie returns the grin. For him, of course, this is the first time they’ve laughed together like this, but he has to admit he’s already rather fond of it. “Can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed that hard.”
Steve’s smile turns nostalgic, like he can remember the last time Eddie laughed like that, like he was there for it. “It’s a good look on you - laughter,” he says, so quietly Eddie almost feels like maybe it wasn’t meant for him to hear. And Eddie can’t help but think that laughter is a pretty good look on Steve too, all rosy cheeks and shining eyes.
“How did we become friends?” Eddie asks, before his previous thought can take any sort of root. 
The nostalgia in Steve’s expression only grows. “It was the beginning of June, start of summer, probably only a few weeks after your memories stop. I was working at the Scoops Ahoy in Starcourt, that new mall that had just opened, and you wandered in,” he says, looking at Eddie with a teasing glint to his eyes, “because you were obsessed with me-”
“Was not,” Eddie protests immediately.
“Were too,” Steve laughs. “Anyways, you saw me in my stupid little sailor uniform trying and very obviously failing to chat up a girl at the counter, and you came in just to laugh at me, actually.” 
“Okay, that does sound like me,” Eddie concedes with a grin. He probably walked in there just for the sailor costume alone, if he’s being honest with himself. That’s something he’d kill to see - just for a good laugh, of course. “Do you still have that uniform? It might, you know, jog my memory a little if you were to bring it in one day,” he suggests slyly. 
“You and that uniform, man,” Steve scoffs and shakes his head like this is something they’ve talked about many, many times before, enough for it to become a predictable sort of annoyance, a longsuffering inside joke. “No, I don’t still have it. Threw it out first chance I had, not to mention it got totally ruined when the- uh, when the mall burned down.” 
Eddie’s eyes go slightly wide. “The mall burned down? While you were there?” 
“Yeah- well, sort of,” Steve falters, a shadow falling over his expression, and he shakes his head again. “It’s kind of a long story, and not the one I’m telling right now.” 
“Right, yeah, shit.” Eddie waves his hand as if to erase everything he’d said before. “Forget I mentioned it.” He, more than anyone, understands not wanting to relive bad memories right now. “Continue the other story. How did we go from me making fun of you to us being besties?”
The shadow lifts as Steve returns to that memory. “Oh, yeah. I told you the show wasn’t free and that you needed to order something or leave. So you bought a milkshake, which I somehow managed to end up completely spilling all over the both of us when I tried to hand it to you. You were livid,” he chuckles, “thought I’d done it on purpose, even though I definitely hadn’t. I felt so bad I insisted on helping you clean up. You were icy about it, but you let me show you to the sink in the backroom and accepted the jacket I lent you so you wouldn’t have to walk around with ice cream stains on your shirt all day.” 
“That’s quite the meet-cute,” Eddie jokes. “Are you sure you’re describing our friendship and not some rom-com chick flick you watched last week?” 
“Nah, true story, honest. It wasn’t a rom-com,” Steve says, and though he smiles, there’s an odd sadness to it too. He shakes his head and continues, “Anyways, you clearly warmed up to me after that because you came back the next day to return the jacket and apologize for being a bit of a dick before, and then you gave me this whole ‘you’re actually a good dude’ speech and told me to give you a call if I ever wanted to split a joint or something. I took you up on it that same night; it had been a rough day at work and I figured why not, so I came over and we smoked and we talked and we got along like a house on fire - better than either of us expected, I think. And that was our thing, then, after that - smoking and talking. Sometimes weed, sometimes just cigarettes, and sometimes we just smoked and didn’t talk, and then sometimes we just talked and didn’t smoke; until eventually we started doing other things together too besides just talking and smoking, we were just hanging out. At that point we were friends, practically inseparable, and then we-” Steve stops himself, a shade of melancholy reentering his dim smile once more. “We only got closer from there.” 
“That sounds nice…” Eddie tries to remember it, really digs deep in his mind for any sort of spark of memory or recognition in Steve’s words, but it’s empty. It all just sounds like a story to him, doesn’t settle anywhere real. It’s a good story, sure, one he’d like to experience, one he aches to connect with, but a story nonetheless, only words, only fiction. “I wish I could remember that.” 
“Me too,” Steve says, and Eddie hates how sad he looks, hates even more that he’s the cause of it. 
“Well, I guess we’ll just have to make new memories, then!” Eddie declares with a theatrical amount of enthusiasm as he flashes Steve a bright grin, all in the hopes of chasing that sadness back off of his face. “Won’t we, my friend?” 
Success; Steve seems a little startled by Eddie’s sudden gusto, but he laughs and smiles, the real kind this time that shines in his eyes again. “Yeah, I guess we will.”
Eddie does his best to keep the conversation away from their past after that, not only in an attempt to keep the light in Steve’s expression but for his own sake too. It’s a strange thing to be reminded of the fact that he shares a history with someone and has no memory of it, to be around someone who seems to know everything about him while he feels as though they’ve only just met.
For the most part, hanging out with Steve is nice and fun and easy - there’s something so natural, familiar, about the way they talk, the way they banter, the way they sit together even in the silences. But sometimes Eddie will say something that makes a sadness flicker in Steve’s eyes again, or sometimes Steve will say something that makes Eddie wonder just what secrets this guy knows about him and his skin crawls with that old discomfited itch. They’re both quick with a joke, a redirection, whenever the other’s expression falters, though, like Steve is trying to make sure Eddie doesn’t feel uncomfortable just as much as Eddie is trying to make sure Steve doesn’t feel sad. 
Other visitors come in and out of Eddie’s room that day too: Dustin stops by with a portable cassette player and some newer heavy metal albums that came out during the period Eddie no longer remembers, which brings more than one source of entertainment as it also incurs Nurse Margaret’s wrath again when they listen to it too loud. Wayne drops in with some actually edible fast food for lunch and a deck of cards, playing a few rounds of a few games. Nurse Katie checks in on him to redress his wounds and she laughs at his stories of annoying Margaret. Even Steve has to leave a couple times, says he has errands to run or needs to pick up Robin from work, but he promises to be back each time and each time he is. 
Night has fallen now, and it’s just Eddie and Steve again, Steve sitting, as always, beside Eddie’s bed as they watch whatever cheesy old movie is playing on TV while Eddie fights off sleep. He fears it still; each wave of drowsiness that washes over him is met with a shiver in his heart that breathes ice into his veins and freezes him awake. 
After about Eddie’s hundredth attempt to suppress a yawn, Steve turns off the TV and looks at him. “Are you tired?” 
“No,” Eddie says, only for his lie to be almost immediately undermined by another traitorous yawn. “Alright, yeah, I am, but- I don’t want to sleep,” he admits. “I don’t want to dream.”
“Oh.” Steve’s gaze softens, sympathetic. For the first time unprompted, not waiting for a nightmare or for Eddie to ask like he always had before, Steve moves closer and takes Eddie’s hand. “I’ve got you, you know,” he says, the statement fierce in its sincerity. “It’ll be alright. I’ll fight off your nightmares with my bare hands if I have to.” 
Steve’s hand is warm against the chill in Eddie’s blood, the heat of his skin seeping in to thaw his fear. “I don’t think a nightmare is something you can fight,” Eddie says, cracking a smile, but looking at Steve now, he can almost believe it. 
There’s a new sort of spark in Steve’s eyes, protective, devoted, and it burns the way a fire in the hearth of a home burns, like something dangerous made safe just for him. Eddie suddenly doesn’t doubt, somehow, that Steve could fight off anything, even something as intangible as a nightmare, if it was threatening Eddie. With Steve here holding his hand, he somehow doesn’t doubt that not a single thing can hurt him. Not a single thing would even dare try. 
And not a single thing does. 
No nightmares make their way into Eddie’s mind that night, no bad memories stir in his subconscious. That night, instead, he dreams of Steve.
(part five!) taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies. please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list)
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pippin-katz · 8 months
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Alright, I have mostly restrained myself, but I cannot stay quiet any longer. There is a question that has been eating at me...
Whose fucking idea was it to have Henry (Nicholas) constantly grabbing Alex's (Taylor's) hair?!
Note: I'm adding this in after finishing writing this because this was supposed to be a relatively short post, and then it spiraled out of control, so if you want to listen to me gradually lose my sanity over this question, feel free to keep reading, cause it is admittedly funny lmfao
Another Note: This is me being overly sarcastic and hyper cause it’s funny for me to think about that situation. This is supposed to be a funny post. I said that at the end, but I’m adding it here too.
Listen, remember what they said about the intimate scenes: they were planned down to every detail. Remember what Nicholas said about having conversations with Taylor, Matthew, and Robbie about boundaries, what was okay, and not okay. Remember that they have A LINE IN THE FILM ABOUT HENRY GRABBING HIS HAIR (iconic).
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Do you see it? Do you see where this is going?
The hair pulling/grabbing is not random. It doesn't happen in just the New Year's kiss to set up a funny line later.
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It happens all the time.
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Even in soft moments, Henry has a hand in his hair.
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The hair grabbing gets its own shot in their love-making scene.
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Consistent small actions (twisting a ring, biting nails, drumming with fingers, etc.) are character habits. They're things that they do all the time, subconsciously or for a decisive reason, usually if you know that action causes a specific response that you want for any reason.
There's a coworker that drives you crazy, so you purposefully hum really loudly whenever they're in the room to piss them off. Your friend has a sensitivity to the color red, so on days you know you're going to see them, you avoid wearing it. Your partner has muscle cramps, so you massage their shoulders whenever you're standing behind them.
These habits usually start as conscious decisions, then gradually become subconscious, hence the term "habit". You've been doing something for so long or for frequently enough that you do it while on "autopilot".
I think it's pretty obvious why this action happens. It's because A: Henry likes feeling of his hair, and/or B: Alex likes when someone touches his hair. Note: This could be in any context, not just sexual; running fingers through it, washing it, styling it, etc.
Either you figured out what I am going to say, and you're wondering why I'm blabbering on so much, or you're just confused about where I'm going with this at all, so here's where it all clicks together.
When you have a character, habits are something you give them to give them more personality, more insight into their mentality through subtle things they do. It's something the director/writer/actor chooses to give to the character.
BUT - nothing in the intimacy scenes happen without being discussed and agreed upon.
This isn't like Nicholas fidgeting with the signet ring to show Henry's nerves. This isn't like Taylor frequently making little hand gestures (peace signs, finger guns, tapping the side of his glass, etc.) because Alex has undiagnosed ADHD and that's one way to physically imply it.
They can do those things without being told or given "permission" because it's their portrayal of the character, it doesn't effect anyone else, and small details like that are typically up to the actors, unless the director is incredibly strict.
BUT - AGAIN WITH FEELING - NOTHING IN THE INTIMACY SCENES HAPPEN WITHOUT BEING DISCUSSED AND AGREED UPON.
That means that someone, one of the four of them, brought up grabbing his hair as a suggestion, and further more, Taylor (and Nick, but obviously Taylor's consent is more important in this specific case) was fine with it.
Think about it. Think about them sitting around a table discussing the kinds of stuff that Matthew and Robbie would want to see, and what Nick and Taylor would be okay with. Think about the fact that one of them was sitting there, and looked at the other three, and said: "What if Henry grabs Alex's hair a lot?"
And then the four of them had to sit there, and talk, in depth, about what that would mean.
*inhale*
Who... the fuck... said it?
WHO SAID IT?!
Did Matthew and Robbie present it as part of the initial planning?? Or did one of them look Taylor and Nick in the eye and say it?? Did Nick throw it out there as something he thought Henry would do?? Was it Taylor??? Since it's his hair???
Cause it's not just like, running Nick running his fingers through it, combing it during some tender moment, like when Alex talks about his father being an immigrant.
HE FUCKING GRABS IT.
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What the fuck were these conversations like?! I cannot think of a single way to have that conversation where someone wouldn't have to say something that would make me make me go UHHH-
What? So - Matthew's like "how do you guys feel about touching each other's hair?" -and they're like "what, you mean like running our fingers through it?" -and he's like "nah yanking it while you're making out"
Like... what do you say to that?! - "oh which one of us would do it to the other?" -and what, did Taylor fucking volunteer?? Just like - "he can pull my hair, it's chill" - WTF?!
Or did he suggest it in the first place, like they were discussing things that would that could be part of Alex and Henry's dynamic and he's just like - "he could pull my hair?" -and the other three just stared at him for a second, because wtf that's a intensely intimate action to suggest?!
Hair touching in general is really intimate, in like, every context, at least I think to most people, and definitely to me. Most people wouldn't just let someone, even someone they were friends with, start playing with their hair or touching their head. I wouldn't even let my best friend randomly touch my head; I would instinctually try to bite their hand off (not a joke). Maybe I'm a slight bit more touch-repulsed than most, but I feel like it's safe to say that the majority of people don't want their hair and head being touched, grabbed, or played with unless they say so.
And again, they do it CONSISTENTLY. It's not a one and done scene. It is an actual dynamic between Alex and Henry they chose to establish.
SO I ASK AGAIN: WHOSE IDEA WAS IT?!
I'm looking at you four, Matthew, Robbie, Taylor, and Nicholas. I know it was one of you cheeky bastards that suggested it. One of you brought it up, and the rest of you were like "sure".
I will be forever haunted by this mystery, as I doubt I will ever get an answer.
Note: Please don't take this super seriously. I'm not trying to imply anything; I'm literally just joking around cause the concept of having that conversation boggles my mind lol
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maikissed · 11 days
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and the day after that, and day after that part 3
jude bellingham x reader in honor of this a-hole for scoring tonight and winning la liga (scandalous, cuz i'm a barca fan, don't jump at me) i'm turning sloppy with these continuations, not a fan of this one tbh. but i hope you'd like it a bit sorry for typos
! sexy times here
Blissful, sharply clutching at your heart but making you light in your limbs, almost tingling at the skin of your neck and your chest as you focused on it. But when you lingered there, trying to catch it to correctly define it, it stumbled you over, crushed everything in it’s path, like a sudden wave sinking you down, with the great power to swallow you whole. Something so gentle and delicate turning into a potent and striking feeling of absolute infirmity. The funniest and trickiest thing about these sensations was that they turned, switching places, changing their courses, making you fall and fall all over again. Like at the end of it, at the moment when the sweet feeling was supposed to end for the other, the more prominent one, to take place, you took a minuscule step and stumble. Fell into it. An elation. That how you’d call it, you realised, as you noticed your chest rising sharply under your sight. Your eyes on him this whole time, innocently observing him making a simple conversation with his friends just few meters away. He smiled at something and it took you a short moment to realise that the corner of your mouth rose a little too at the sight. That’s when he looked back at you, his bright smile turning into a more tender one when he caught your eyes. And those mad stirs fumbling inside of you turned violent so unexpectedly, tickling, no, hitting you in your gut, making you almost stop breathing.
He winked at you then. And your smiled turned bigger. You reached for your phone.
still can’t wink, mate
You watched his expression change as he read your message. A smirk slowly appearing on his face.
Yeah? Can see you blush from here
You chuckled to yourself, biting your lip as you typed a response. Placing your phone back on your thigh you waited.
take me home?
It didn’t take him long to approach you, of course. His hand extended to you to help you stand.
There were boundaries set at the very beginning of the new course you decided to take your relationship on. You had been indisputably terrified of many repercussions that might came if you made a mistake. Still not many knew, it was just Mia, really, but your trip to Madrid has already spoke volumes. At least you suspected it has. Wanting to take it as slow as you can you put the boy in a constant state of suffering, denying him too much physical contact in these last few months. You perceived it wise, he considered you cruel.
“Want something to drink?” Jude asked as you entered the saloon.
“I’d love some lemon water” you answered softly, taking your shoes off “Iced, if you please”
“Yes ma’am”
You sent him a playful smile, heading to the balcony. Of course one fell quickly in love with the pleasant weather in this country. Though the midday heat was a lot for you, you enjoyed the still lukewarm, now almost refreshing breeze coating you after the sunset. You hummed at the contact of your bare feet with the still warm tiles, resting on one of the chairs.
“Don’t rock on your chair” you could hear Jude’s voice when he joined you, your head thrown back as you succumbed to a peaceful night coating you soothingly.
You smiled at his reprimand. Then you heard him placing your glasses on the table, and then you loosed your balance. A sharp yelp left your throat at the feeling of falling, but when you opened your eyes you spotted Jude’s wide, playful smile centimetres from your face, his hand at the back of your chair. You gasped quickly realising he tricked you, pulling the chair further back. And of course it wasn’t the first time you let him fool yourself like that.
“You prat!” you swat at his hand and he just laughed at your reaction.
“Oh is it so funny?” you jumped from your sit to throw more punches his way.
“Yeah, your little squeak was ridiculous” your eyes widened at his comment.
You swung your hand with intention to hit his bicep once again but he blocked it before you could reach it, grasping your wrist in is grip. Being stupid enough you brought your other hand to action but he captured it too, stopping your attack altogether. When your heart slowed down a little you just huffed, feeling laughter filling your lungs as well. This time you didn’t stop to consider, simply leaning in to kiss him on the lips sweetly, your hands still in his hold, close to your head. But you had no intention to continue, pulling away from him when he begun to chase you.
“What?” he laughed and you beamed at the joyful glint in his eyes “You consider this a payback?”
“Yes, I always win, Bellingham”
“Oh, we’ll see about that” he lowered your hands but still kept his fingers wrapped around your wrists.
With a gentle push he forced you to step back and a chuckle left your lips uncontrollably when your back collided with the railing behind you.
“What are you doing? You’re not getting a kiss this way or another” you said feeling him stepping into you, the closeness fogging your brain just a tad.
“I’ll take it different way then” he bit back with a smirk and you hummed with a sneer.
You flinched and giggled when he started peppering barely there kisses on the skin of your neck. And when you curled your neck to make this task difficult for him, and because of the reason that his nose quickly following the trace of his lips on your skin made you incredibly ticklish, he let go of your left hand, using his fingers to remove one of the straps of the dress you were wearing. So when he reached your collarbone he slowed down, using his tongue at the swell of your breast that appeared after the top of your clothing slipped lower. He took his time, you realised with a deep breath, moving to the other side. The feeling of a scrape of his teeth on your shoulder surprised you, so you looked down to spot him biting on the material of the other strap of your dress, slowly dragging it down your arm. You giggled.
“I’m happy to keep you entertained” he murmured between kisses he caressed your skin with on his way up.
“Oh, I love watching your attempts” you bickered.
A bright blink in his even darker eyes made you shiver and you were mesmerized. Your eyes glued to his beautiful face, full lips just slightly parted, all his attention on you.
“Oh yeah?” he smirked “You look a little breathless, love”
Something in your chest squished at the way he accented the sweet little name he called you and you swore to hell you blushed right now. You could feel your cheeks heating up. What were you? Twelve? Maddening, at this point.
And any words you wanted to voice out, you didn’t even remember them, died at your tongue as you realised his hands were lower now, slowly grabbing another fold of your long summer dress to reach your skin underneath. You anticipated, focusing on the sensation of light air kissing another part of your legs as the material rose up with another grasp of his hands. You blinked, keeping your eyes keen and hard in contact with his when his fingers reached the delicate skin on your thighs. He hummed, content with the feeling, bringing his attention back to your neck and chest.
“Suddenly so quiet now” he muttered into your skin.
“’m waiting for something interesting” breathless, indeed.
That’s when his hands glided up to sharply grab your bum, pressing you tight against him, the feeling of his hard on prominent on your stomach. And the movement met with the lick of his tongue in the valley between the top of your breast. You moaned grabbing the railing behind you with one hand, the other placed on the crook of his neck. So when he kissed your throat you opened your mouth for him, ready, wanton for him to kiss you now. He did, and it was rough and forceful and you loved it. With a quick grip on your thigh he hiked up your leg to rest highly on his hip, the skin uncovered now. You rose slightly on your left feet, searching for him, yearning for the right contact. He groaned into your mouth when you pressed against him, using your pelvis and your right leg now, almost wrapped around him. You worried for a moment that someone could see you this unveiled since you were out in the open. The property was well separated, but there still were neighbours in some distance and even worse, Denise on the other side of he villa.
“Ah, fuck” he sighted against your lips “Aren’t you a delight?”
You would answer to that, but he didn’t let you, using his hand placed on your lower back to press on you harder, grinding against you, and you whined pitifully, closing your eyes in the meantime. Chasing the pleasant feeling to wash over you. Your hands started wandering, slipping under his shirt, desperate to feel his skin, his muscles hard under your touch.
“Will you let me tonight? Will you let me fuck you tonight?” he mumbled when you pressed your chest against him, your lips centimetres away.
Your eyes opened, a little smirk dancing on your lips when your fingers grazed delicately his skin, just above the button of his pants.
“Take me to bed, Jude”
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sovasleepy · 1 year
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behave, wingman
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[ gekko x gn!reader ] in which gekko’s little buddies rat him and his feelings for you out
a/n: hi !! this is my first time posting on this blog so interaction is super appreciated! a continuation of this fic can be found here!
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the scratch of gekko’s skateboard against the floor alerted you of his presence long before you heard him speak. it was a somewhat familiar noise to you now, despite how much the others would scold him for it.
“i thought you weren’t supposed to be skating inside,” you said with a smile.
without turning around, you could hear him step off and put weight on the back of the board, then the slight crck of him picking up the board from the ground. finally turning around, you were met with his ever-bright smile. wingman was perched on his shoulder and he whirred happily at the sight of you.
“mm, something like that, but the others don’t have to know.” he responded, giving you faux puppy-dog eyes and a matching lip quiver.
you just smiled at him once more and ignored the flutter in your chest. it was your turn to cook breakfast, after all. you turned back to busy yourself with the food at hand as he walked off again, skateboard tucked snuggly under his arm. he returned a few moment later, absent of the skateboard and the jacket that was thrown over his t-shirt.
“need any help?” he offered, but with the tone of his voice it felt more like a ‘let me help you’. who were you to deny an extra pair of hands?
“you could get a start on the dishes if you’d like.”
“your wish is my command,” he chirped. he attempted to brush by you, but wingman jumped from his place on gekko’s shoulder to yours. he nuzzled into your cheek and chirped; if he were a dog you’d see his tail wagging, you thought.
“wingm- hey!” gekko reached to scoop the critter up, who jumped out of his hand until gekko picked him up again and placed him on the ground. “sorry about him…”
gekko’s ears burned red and he avoided eye contact with you. you saw him mouth something to the little guy, but you didn’t quite understand what he said and you weren’t about to ask. wingman whirred in defiance.
“can you watch this?” you asked, setting the spoon you were using down. “i need to grab something, i’ll only be a second.”
“sure thing.”
it didn’t take you long to grab the needed item, but gekko’s voice stopped you before you opened the door back to the kitchen. you caught the tail end of his sentence, met with a squeak by wingman.
“i’m- don’t look at me like that. i think they’re very pretty, and they’re very nice, but you can’t do that stuff, wings.”
a sad hum.
“i’m sorry, buddy. we just don’t wanna cross any boundaries, ok?”
a squeak of acknowledgment.
you pressed against the kitchen door, letting it swing open and then closed behind you. gekko’s eyes were wide and his whole face burned red now, but he swallowed thickly and simply hoped you hadn’t heard the conversation. you thank him, and then grab the spoon back from gekko. you make sure to brush his hand and don’t miss the choked noise he makes.
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theamberfist · 10 days
Text
How I Met Her Mother | Part 3 | Tighnari x Reader
Romantic: Tighnari x Collei's Parent! Reader
Description: When Collei and the traveler discover Tighnari's feelings for her adoptive parent, they make it their mission to get them on a date together through a (maybe unnecessarily) elaborate plan.
(Notes: none) (gender neutral reader) (reader is Collei's adoptive parent) (Part 3 of How I Met Her Mother)
Words: 2526
Part 1, Part 2
"Y/n!" Aether called as he came into your medical tent, looking like he had some important things to talk about. You stood from where you'd been mixing new medicines at a table.
"What is it?" You asked, a little worried he'd gone and gotten himself badly hurt again. Luckily, that didn't seem to be the case and you sighed in relief at the fact that he had no blood visibly on his person.
"We heard news! Big news!" Paimon exclaimed like she was about to burst if she didn't tell you what it was.
"Tell me!" You ordered with a smile.
"We heard Tighnari is throwing a party this evening!" The pixie explained, "For you and Collei!" At this, you frowned in confusion.
"Me and Collei?"
"Yes!" Paimon replied, "It's supposed to be a surprise but we couldn't let you show up to a party not looking your best so we thought we'd tell you anyway! Just please don't tell Tighnari we told you!" Aether had to admit that her acting had gotten better throughout the day; he almost wanted to applaud her for this performance.
"Why would he be throwing a party for us?" You asked, "Doesn't he already have so much to do as head forest ranger?"
"He said there's no better cure than celebration!" Paimon replied, knowing full-well the fox-eared ranger would never say that, "Plus, he wants to thank you both for all you've done as a trainee forest ranger and doctor here! We already told Collei, so we wanted to let you know to look your best this evening and come to this location at sunset!" She handed you a map with a marked area on it that was just outside the village but on the opposite side from your medical tent; near yours and Collei's hut.
"Oh, thanks!" You exclaimed, "I promise, your secret is safe with me. I'll take this to my grave." Your tone was dead serious but there was a smile on your face as Paimon nodded in agreement.
"Us too!" She decided.
"I guess I'll have to wear one of my nice outfits tonight," you decided, "And find a host-gift for Tighnari! I don't think he's ever hosted a party that I've been to before, so what do you think he'd like as a gift?"
"Flowers!" Paimon exclaimed, "Potted plants, to be specific! Paimon thinks that's a common tradition in Gandharva Ville at parties, too." Aether gave her a knowing glance but said nothing, simply nodding in confirmation.
"Good idea!" You replied. You hadn't been living among the forest rangers for very long, so any advice these two could provide was very valuable. They nodded, letting you get back to work now as they headed out of your medical tent. The second they were fully out of your sight, they turned to one another and high-fived over a job well-done. Things were almost ready to go.
..........
Meanwhile, Collei was having an almost identical conversation with her mentor.
"Master Tighnari," She spoke casually, "did you hear about the party this evening?" This made him arch an eyebrow as he set the box of Padisarah's near your medical tent. They always left herbs outside in case you had sleeping patients there; the process of moving them in could be rather loud.
"I didn't." He admitted, "Who's throwing it? Is it here?" Parties were not his think but you'd always seemed to enjoy them enough; even during your Akademiya days. He'd gone to a few with you and Cyno and always found that you were a surprisingly good friend to have around for them; respecting everyone's boundaries when it came to social situations and making sure they all stayed safe. As a result, he'd had a shockingly pleasant time whenever he did agree to go with you.
Collei gestured towards your medical tent silently now and the fox-eared forest ranger immediately seemed to get more interested. Collei lead him far enough away so that you wouldn't be able to hear from inside before speaking.
"Between you and me, they're throwing it for you." She admitted, "I'm not supposed to say anything but I know surprises like this make me nervous so I thought you might appreciate a warning beforehand." Tighnari could practically feel his heart melt at that but he kept his cool in front of the trainee.
"I see," he replied, "But why is Y/n throwing a party for me? They don't need to do anything extra for anyone around here when they already work so hard-"
"I think they just want to show their appreciation for you," Collei smiled, ignoring the fact that she'd just interrupted her teacher for one of the first- and likely only- times in her life. "You help us both a lot, Master Tighnari, and we're really thankful for it!" The forest ranger had to look away to hide his touched expression.
Finally, he composed himself before turning back to the girl. "Thank you for letting me know, Collei." He told her with a smile, "I'll be sure to get Y/n a gift for their trouble and attend the party I'm not supposed to know about on time." Collei nodded, taking out a map where she'd marked the 'party' location.
"It'll be here at sunset!" She informed him before heading off to get back to her work. Then she stopped, "Oh, and they love flowers, as a suggestion!" With that, she was gone before he could say anything else.
Tighnari chuckled and shook his head. Flowers, huh? For anyone else, that might have helped give him an idea of what to give you. But as a botanist, that did not narrow the choices down at all.
Away from everyone else's sight, Collei met back up with Paimon and the traveler, silently high-fiving them. They'd done everything they could to set up a date between you and Tighnari; now all that was left was to wait and hope it all turned out alright.
..........
Tighnari checked the map Collei had given him one more time to make sure he was heading for the right location. It looked like this party of yours was supposed to be not far from your home, which made sense; given that it would make it easier to set everything up.
He still wasn't sure how you'd expected him to end up in the right location at the right time if he wasn't supposed to know about it, though. No one had come and asked him to do anything that might be related- was he just supposed to have read your mind and shown up?
Either way, he wasn't about to question your intentions. Kind acts like this had always been your specialty, and despite how stressed you might have been, he wouldn't have put it past you to do one now. However, when he finally arrived at the location with potted flowers in hand and the very green suit he'd conveniently bought today, there was no one else around.
The place Collei had told him the party would be at was by the river just outside of Gandharva Ville but right now it was completely void of decorations or any other typical party-related items. And on top of that, you didn't seem like you were anywhere to be found.
"Tighnari, hey!" A familiar voice finally spoke behind him, making relief wash over him like a wave. He turned around to see you in attire equally as formal as his own; the colors would even look perfect together if you two stood next to one another. "Am I too late? Is the party over already?" A look of confusion bloomed over his face.
"...I was going to ask you the same thing?" He admitted, glancing back at the map provided by his trainee, who had also written down the time by which he needed to be here.
"What do you mean?" You asked, though there was a hint of knowledge behind your eyes; as if you'd somewhat expected this outcome when you arrived, "Aether and Paimon told me you were hosting a surprise party here tonight."
"Collei told me you were doing the same thing..." The forest ranger replied as he crossed his arms. There was a pause, but then your smile widened.
"I think I know what's going on here." You admitted as you headed over to a few boulders that rest by the river. Careful to avoid getting your nice clothes dirty, you took a seat on one of them.
"Oh?" Tighnari asked with slight amusement. Though he didn't know what was going on, the fact that you still seemed happy was likely a good sign. "Do enlighten me then, Y/n." Your grin widened.
"I heard Collei chatting with the traveler early this morning," You explained, "She'd gone outside in the middle of the night, and as her parent, of course my instincts kicked in and I went to listen. I wasn't sure what they were talking about then, but it makes more sense now..." You trailed off but the forest ranger just arched an eyebrow, urging you to continue. "They mentioned something about a plan, and then both Collei and Aether made sure we would be here at the same time."
"...This was their plan." Tighnari finally said, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly in embarrassment. He couldn't believe he'd been played so easily by his own student.
"It seems that way." You chuckled, shaking your head as your gaze lifted up to the sky, "I suppose when those three get together, they become quite the meddling bunch." The forest watcher rolled his eyes at that.
"No kidding," he replied, "We'll need to talk with Collei about not getting involved in other people's private affairs later." You nodded as he took a seat on the boulder next to you and looked out at the river, which seemed to sparkle in the setting sunlight.
"Definitely," you replied, "But I suspect she still had good intentions."
"I'm sure," Tighnari told you, "Though, going as far as to set the two of us up on a date was still an overstep." As soon as he said it, he regretted it. He didn't even need to see the surprised, slightly red look on your face to know he'd messed up. So, rather than having to look over, he immediately stood from the boulder he'd been resting on and cleared his throat. "I should be going," he said quickly, "I wouldn't want to keep you from your patients with something this trivial."
"Actually," You spoke up before he could walk away, "They're all taken care of. I had a suspiciously small number coming into the medical clinic today." This made the forest ranger's ear perk.
"Really?" He replied, "That's interesting; I had a suspiciously small amount of work to handle today, as if someone had gone out of their way to get it done for me."
"...How peculiar." You grinned, knowing exactly whom was behind that. Tighnari let out a dramatic groan but plopped down on the boulder again. He couldn't help but feel more and more like an idiot with every part of Collei's plan that came to light.
"If it helps, you don't have to actually consider this a date," you spoke up now, turning your gaze back to the pretty river, "You don't even have to stay, if you don't want to." Despite the fact that you were trying to take as much pressure off him as possible, you still felt a flutter of hope in your chest at the idea that he might see this situation the same way.
"I didn't say I didn't want to..." He replied finally, still not meeting your eyes, "But a first date planned by someone else- the daughter of my friend, no less- feels insincere." You chuckled at that.
"Fair enough." You paused for a moment, "Then we could call it a...Half-date, if that makes you feel better." By now, it seemed to have become clear how you both felt about one another and you weren't about to back down from making this happen if he wanted it too.
"A half-date?" Tighnari repeated with an unamused expression but you could tell he didn't hate the idea.
"Yes," you told him with a grin, "Like a trial run. That way, I can properly ask you on a real date later." His face grew red at that but he immediately shook off his nerves.
"Who says I won't ask you first?" Your smile widened.
"Well, then I guess we'll just have to see who beats who to the punch." You decided. Tighnari crossed his arms at that but a playful look rested on his face nonetheless.
"You're on, Y/n." He replied and you laughed.
After that, conversation started to flow much easier. You two had been close friends for years now; since even before you'd adopted your daughter. Despite the initial awkwardness of admitting you both had feelings for one another, you fell back into your regular dynamic and ended up spending much longer by the river than expected.
You didn't come home until late that night when the forest ranger insisted on walking you back to your house. Luckily, the lights were all off so it seemed like Collei was already asleep and wouldn't see you returning from a half-date the way a teenager might have.
"Well, I'd say that was an enjoyable experience." You grinned as you and Tighnari stopped in front of the door to your home, "I'd go one a half-date with you again." His own smile, though still a little awkward, widened.
"What about a full date?" Your heartbeat quickened but you feigned thinking the idea over.
"Hmm...I suppose a full date with you wouldn't be so bad either." You decided finally, "I accept, but I'm not happy that you asked me before I could ask you!" This made the forest ranger chuckle.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Y/n." He said, letting go of your hand that he'd been holding this whole time.
"Bye, Tighnari!" You replied quietly enough that you hopefully wouldn't wake your daughter before opening the door to your home and stepping inside. You closed it silently behind you, once again feeling like a teenager that had snuck out of the house when they weren't supposed to, but the second you turned around you were startled by the sight of a green haired girl laying on your couch.
She seemed to wake up now that you were back and rubbed her eyes sleepily. "You're back..." She whispered. Your heart melted, as it always did around your kid.
"Have you been waiting out here for me this whole time, sweetheart?" You asked, going over to the nearby closet to grab her another blanket since she was shivering slightly. Collei just nodded but then seemed to realize what time it was because she looked out the window seeing it so dark.
"Were you on your date with Master Tighnari this whole time?!" She asked excitedly, seemingly not tired anymore.
"So it was you that was behind that." You commented, gently tossing the blanket her way. Seeing that you didn't deny it, her excitement seemed to grow.
"Is Master Tighnari going to be my new dad?!" She asked eagerly as your face turned beat red.
"Collei!" 
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valentine-writes · 9 months
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Hello hello! Been downright dying over how much I love your AtSV work!! So I thought I would feed into it >:) If you're feeling up to it, whats been brewing in your mind about The Spot x reader? Take it platonic or romantic, either has so much potential for fun in my opinion and I guess I'm just interested in what ideas you might have?? Not a lot to work off of from what I'm asking but I hope you're able to have fun with it anyways ^^; Whether youre able to get to this request or not, thanks for reading! Love what you do :)
collision.
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「 tws + notes: possibly ooc, unedited, he's kind of pathetic little meow meowified im sorry, first bit inspired by @//submurged-into-clouds !! <3 」
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↳ ft. the spot
「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」
author's note: first, AUWJHEJSBS thank u so much!!!! im glad u like what i've written so far– and i am SUPER excited to write for the spot becuz im gon b real,,, there was a momentary lapse of insanity where i was scouring for any content of him at all. SO TY 4 UR REQ!!!! ( /)u(\ ) i hope this is ok!!! i got carried away and stuff so,, i hope this is at the Very Least coherent! leaned for platonic stuff with romantic undertones that intensify throughout so,, read it how u like ^_^
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▸ we're going to start this by establishing that bro has literally No Friends anymore. you met him after the collider incident and by some miracle, some sort of mercy from a higher power in the multiverse– you ended up becoming friends with him
really, meeting him was an accident. wasn't supposed to be anything more– just him messing around with his new abilities and slipping into a random universe with no idea where he was.
and there was you.
just you. out, alone at night. just taking a walk– disrupted by someone falling out of a weird portal from the sky.
this is the day your paths crossed, the day your fates intertwined, the moment that your world collided into his.
to put more literally: the day he crashed into you very unceremoniously.
im now re-reading the title and remembering his backstory and giggling at my unintentional joke. he is not catching a break. even from me.
▸ after recovering from a random stranger from another universe tumbling into your own, you began to talk.
now– you don't remember how the conversation started, but you were glad to listen. the way which he rambled to you, words tumbling out of his mouth like they'd been on his mind for a while– you felt like he needed someone to hear him.
he's surprised. you're not bothered. not frightened. not even weirded out. but you're not indifferent. you nod along, you comment on things here and there– but you listen. you actually listen to him.
eventually, when he leaves, you're sat there for a moment. just frozen– processing whether that had really happened or not. you see the indent his body left in the grass where the two of you sat. it's evidence enough for you.
a few weeks pass and you're certain that you were just fated to meet once and never again. you were fine with this.
▸ until he randomly popped up in your living room one day.
yes, he had been actively trying to find your universe again– and as casually as he can be, is now peeking from out the portal he created, head leaning in to get a better look at you.
you're not sure how you can tell considering he has no face,,, but he's definitely smiling.
he waves to you, awkwardly, (noticing that you're just staring at him while not saying a word), "thought i would say hi, so– ...hi."
you blink at him tiredly. "dude, it's 6:30 in the morning–"
he's treating this like it's normal for people to just show up in your house. he missed you– and it's very evident.
▸ no matter what type of relationship you're in with him: you GOTTA set boundaries. being one of the only people who cares to hang around him anymore means that you're gonna be seeing a lot of him.
while he certainly hasn't completely lost grasp on the concept of privacy, it's definitely been altered by the fact he's got powers that allow him to pop up wherever he wants. he's just a teeny bit invasive.
"hello!" he'll greet, randomly poking his head through a portal he made to your bedroom.
on instinct, you throw the closest thing to you. he's just glad you reached for the pillow and not the alarm clock also at your arms reach on the bedside table.
definitely a good idea to remind him that if he wants to hang out, he should probably message you, and if he wants to show up at your house for whatever reason, he should give you a heads up.
he has nearly walked in on you changing. and has apologized a million times every time it's brought up. it fr keeps him up at night.
▸ everyone in his life leaving him def messed him up a bit. he can deny it all he wants, but he's terribly anxious that you're gonna grow tired of him and leave.
constantly like "oh my god what if they leave for someone who has a face" and itz like,,, boy,,,, stfu itz 3am
he needs reassurance, even if he never explicitly says. but you're kind to him. patient. you're pretty much an angel in his eyes.
which is why he feels comfortable texting u in the dead of night like:
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(im gonna b real i dont even know why i have this image)
▸ he's dismissed by most people around him– but you've given him your time. you've shown him that you care. he's doing everything he can to be certain you'll still care for him.
the random waves of "oh no but what if they hate me" hit him HARD. especially if he hasn't seen you in a while, if you take longer to respond to his messages, if you haven't been answering his calls– bro will jump to a conclusion
"hypothesis: they dont love me anymore :("
☝️🤓 SORRY HAKJWOENDOEND he would NOT say that. im just clowning on him itz a part of my luv 4 him </3
needs to be needed. wants to be wanted.
eventually you have a long talk about this. he's got a bit of an ego after realizing how much power he truly possessed– but you gently encourage him to let it down. a simple heart to heart. and while you're certain these things aren't going to dissipate with a single conversation, you've let him know he doesn't have to deal with it alone.
▸ physical contact is a need for him. bro's touch starved. he likes linking his pinky with yours or just intertwining your fingers together. if you ever let him rest his head on your shoulder or hugged him he'd actually have to fight tears. he hasn't been given affection in a while :(
▸ he doesn't really feel like he has to hide anything around you. he really doesn't have much of a filter when you're talking to him which makes for some amusing conversation. he finds your laughter the sweetest sound in the world– he likes making you laugh :] it makes him feel like he's accomplished something
▸ the alterations to his body have caused some weird little changes that most people don't notice. one of them most noticeably to you– he'd cold. not frigid or like icy, but a lot colder than normal people tend to be.
you first notice this when you're hanging out in your bedroom. you're sitting on your bed, while he paces back and forth, rambling about another failed villainous act
(you haven't questioned his whole obsession with villainy considering that he seems pretty harmless with what he's been attempting– no matter how much he tries)
"and then– ohh, and tHEN THEY JUST—" you notice how he's gesturing frantically, exasperated, annoyed– and out of instinct to provide some sort of comfort (or at least calm him down) your hand grasps his wrist
there's a moment of silence.
his voice dwindles into a more soft, subdued tone, watching as your fingers wrap around his wrist. "wh– if you wanted me to stop talking, you could've just... just said or...."
his mind is going blank, trailing off at your touch. he doesn't remember the last time someone has held his hand or even brushed up against him without freaking out.
"you're cold." you comment, now taking his hand between both of yours, as if you were trying to heat him back up. you don't meet his eyes, simply staring at his hand.
"oh– yeah, yeah, it's just– a thing with now. came with the holes–"
the sensation of your hands gently squeezing his shuts him up. you raise his hand to your lips and gently blow hot air onto it.
your brow furrows, nose scrunching up. "you're still cold..." you mutter, more to yourself than to him. quietly, your gaze returns to his face.
"does that bother you?" you ask him, after a beat of silence.
he shakes his head. your hands let go of his– but he quietly reaches back to hold it again.
"hold on a second. why don't you try again?" he suggests. you laugh softly, knowing it's obviously just an excuse. still, you humor him.
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defectivevillain · 1 year
Text
ruffled feathers
pairing: Hawks x reader
reader’s pronouns: unspecified but masc-intended ;)
summary: You’re an ordinary barista at an ordinary cafe. One day, when you’re working, you find Hawks—the pro hero himself—standing in line. His eyes shift about anxiously. His shoulders are drawn up tight. There are several people near him, whispering under their breath. You take one look and, before you can think about what you’re doing, you’re walking over to him. 
warnings: claustrophobia/ anxiety triggered by crowds
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You feel bad for pro heroes sometimes. 
Heroes are constantly swarmed with crowds of paparazzi whenever they’re in public. It doesn’t matter if they’re out of uniform and waiting in line for a coffee or fighting crime—they will be noticed and likely bothered by fans. To be fair, it’s what they signed up for. Even so, some people—some fans—are batshit crazy. Heroes have little to no privacy whatsoever. It’s hard for you to conceptualize just what that is like. Every waking moment of their day is spent in the spotlight. It must be exhausting.  
This thought rattles around in your mind every so often, but it’s far from your biggest concern or priority. You have a life, after all. You’re just trying to survive that first. You work at a hole-in-the-wall cafe in the city, a few blocks away from several hero agencies. Thankfully, the cafe is rarely busy. You’ll occasionally get a big rush of people early in the morning, but it’s not unmanageable. Sometimes, even heroes will visit after patrols or early in the morning. You try to treat them as normally as possible, refraining from gawking or staring like some people are wont to do. 
One sunny afternoon, a hero walks in. To your surprise, it’s Hawks—the number two hero. He’s stiff and tense in the face of hushed whispers and heavy looks. Your thoughts from before—concerning heroes and their lack of privacy—occur to you once more. 
These thoughts bounce around in your mind as you make some drinks behind the counter. You take a few haphazard glances at the hero. He looks nearly the same as he does on all the billboards and magazines. His wings are a beautiful crimson red. Hawks appears to be off duty, as he’s not wearing his costume. There’s something a bit too familiar to you in the shiftiness of his gaze, the way he seems a bit unsettled. You finish the drinks and set them off to the side before deciding to look over at him again. 
A few girls walk over and stand close to him. It’s evident from the tight set of his shoulders that he's immensely uncomfortable. You try to focus back on the coffee you’re supposed to be making, but you can hear the conversation between them. Hawks says something about being off duty and wanting some off time and the girls still try to get him to take a picture. 
Your hands are shaking—not from nerves, but from frustration. Can’t they just respect his boundaries? It’s not that damn hard. You take a deep breath and set the mug down on the counter, coming to a decision. You walk around the counter and head over to the hero. The girls turn to look at you and you cross your arms over your chest, manifesting a glare. It isn’t exactly hard to do. 
“Hey, give him some space, will you?” At that, Hawks turns to look at you. You pretend not to notice and turn to the girls, who are blushing from embarrassment. They apologize and walk away. You turn to the hero, who is staring at you with an expression far too close to awe and appreciation for your liking. “You alright?” He blinks once, twice. Despite the reestablishment of boundaries, he doesn’t look any better off. 
“Yeah,” Hawks replies blankly. Despite the reassurance, he looks on the verge of a breakdown or panic attack. You try to think of a way to help him. An idea finally forming in your head, you spontaneously put a hand on his sleeve and pull him towards you.
“Here,” you tug him along lightly, making sure your grip is loose and lacking in pressure. The hero follows along pliantly, but there’s a confused expression on his face that suggests that he’s just following instinctually. You turn down the hall near the back and into the storage closet at your left. Once the both of you are inside, you close the door and sigh. 
”We should be safe in here for a bit,” you say, glancing through the window on the door for a moment before turning back to the pro hero. He’s breathing a little raspily and he’s staring at the ground with glassy eyes. “Hey, are you sure you’re alright?”
”Yeah, of course,” Hawks responds, his gaze unmoving. His arms are crossed over his chest as if he’s shielding himself. Despite the confidence in his voice, the hero doesn’t look to be alright. You mentally berate yourself for the stupid question. Of course he isn’t alright. You take in his twitching hands, restless wings, and blank expression for a moment before doing something spontaneous.
”It’s okay,” you whisper, nodding your head and taking the most minute of steps forward. You’re still several feet away from him and you extend an open palm.  “You’re safe here.” 
The hero looks down at your hand for the longest of moments. You immediately feel utterly stupid for making the movement. Just as you’re about to let your hand fall back to your side, however, Hawks takes it. His grip is tight, but not unbearably so. Hopefully, your touch is grounding him to reality a little bit. 
“You're okay,” you say again, squeezing the hero’s hand momentarily. An immeasurable amount of time later, his hand slips from yours and Hawks looks significantly calmer. He blinks at you, as if seeing you for the first time. You tilt your head to the side, amused when he mirrors the motion. His wings spread out a bit further and knock into a few of the jars spread across the shelves. You wince and he averts his eyes, something like a flush rising on his face. 
“Thanks,” Hawks murmurs, a small smile slipping onto his face for a fraction of a second. He addresses you by name, which kind of surprises you. For a long moment, the two of you simply stare at each other in the dimly lit storage closet. 
“Wait, how’d you know my name?” You realize aloud, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at him. The hero raises his eyebrows for a moment. 
“It’s on your name tag,” Hawks responds, pointing at your uniform. You roll your eyes at him. The confidence and smugness in his expression you initially notice fades in the blink of an eye. It’s as if the nonchalant attitude is all a performance. You look at him in disbelief. One moment, he was smirking, but now, his face is entirely blank and emotionless. 
“Hey, so...” the pro hero starts, looking ruffled. His wings are almost twitching, you notice. You stare at him in bewilderment and Hawks continues to speak, scratching the back of his neck in what must be a nervous tick. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”
“Don’t worry about it,” you interrupt, before he can continue apologizing needlessly. The hero visibly freezes, a confused expression on his face. His gaze is rather intense as he looks at you. It almost seems as if he’s searching for something. You take a deep breath.
“I get it. I mean, I don’t. But I do...? I don’t know. It must be crazy being a hero. They treat you like an object or something, not a real person. I just- It must be overwhelming. That’s why I brought you in here. 
“Anyway. I have to get back to work, but you can stay in here as long as you’d like.” You don’t bother to stay to see his reaction, instead leaving the room and closing the door behind you. Before long, you’ve returned to work and are entrenched in making drinks. 
After about twenty minutes or so, the crowd dies down and the cafe is back to a normal level. You look around, surprised to meet the watchful gaze of Hawks. He’d already been staring at you, evidently. He's sitting at a table tucked away in the corner of the space. You smile at the expression on his face—a far more peaceful one than before. You want to wave, but you don’t want to draw attention to him either. Frowning, you return your attention to the drinks you’re making. 
When you get the chance to look up again, moments later, Hawks is gone. 
author’s note: ohohohohohohhhhh.. this was very fun to write. I must say, as much as I like suave, confident hawks.... I love exploring his character in a more unapologetic and honest way. it may seem a bit out of character for him, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. I don’t think it’s super realistic for him to bounce back to being cool, calm, and collected after stressful experiences. hence, he’s a bit frazzled throughout this particular snippet. 
I have PLENTY of ideas for future parts, so lmk if that’s something yall would want 🙏🙏
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bengiyo · 9 months
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Only Friends Ep 4 Stray Thoughts
Last week, Boston played to win and achieved his goal of hooking up with Top again. Nick moved in with Sand and secretly recorded audio of Boston's hookup with Top. Boston convinced Top that Mew is lying about being a virgin and playing games with him and Ray. Mew is playing this virgin card too hard and is now losing. Ray continues to play hard for Sand, but threw him away to run to Mew. Cheum is the only one properly focused on their project. Yo is the only person in a stable relationship.
Yes, show. Remind us about how loudly Top was moaning in that car. He was present for that.
"Emergency Contact." Loving the names of these episodes.
I like the choice to use a 4:3 aspect ratio for the past sequence. Khaotung would have been just as beautiful in the 90s.
Man, I hated calls like this. You feel so powerless, but you feel like you have to do something when you think your friend is going to harm themselves.
Oof. We called that Ray has been like this for a while, and this was as sad as I thought his depression would be.
I feel bad for Mew. It couldn't have been easy to reject Ray when he's in a constant emotional spiral. You want to help your friend, but you also don't want to give him false hope.
Boston is such an ass for recording them. I get the curiosity and how it probably felt like a joke at the time, but he used it in such a malicious way.
Mew is unsubtle, but you end up being that way when you have a friend who's always intoxicated. They miss cues.
Mew needed to set that boundary with Ray. He can't get used to taking advantage of him like that.
We didn't get to see Mark and First work together much in Moonlight Chicken. I like the rapport they built for these characters. Sand is like, "Boston? Really?"
Okay this 80s style synth track sent me into orbit. I'm obsessed.
Top is good at this game they're playing.
Big bass drop on the question about the model plane.
It's interesting in this A-B shot with Ray begging Sand to let him spend the day with him that they put Sand center frame when we see his face, but he's almost offscreen when we see Ray. It feels like Ray is crowding him.
I hate that I'm getting used to Ray being drunk all the time.
I like that Sand can clearly state how he feels. Sucks that he knows he's falling for a problem.
Damn, Top destroyed Boston in that elevator, and not in a way Boston hoped for.
Top is still getting his on the side, but he's not messing around with Boston anymore. Mew really think he has this man on lock because he wants that virgin ass so bad.
Unsurprisingly, Nick is not afraid to go through this man's phone.
So, Boston gave a reasonable proscription against taking photos, but that only makes Nick more jealous because of the Top photos. Boston says Nick is always welcome, but that's dependent upon Nick being nice and lovely. He ain't ready for Nick.
He said, "It's Mr. Nick, if ya nasty."
Top is so fascinating. As soon as he understood what Nick wanted he took total control of that conversation, and he literally ends the meeting looking down on Nick.
So Top definitely fucked one of Sand's boyfriends. That beef felt specific and personal.
Thank you for confirming that, Sand.
Ray really came over here to piss with Mew after trying to snuggle back in with Sand. This man is a mess.
Yes, Mew, share your big secret that your friend still has a crush on you and you kissed once.
"I'm not an addict." Gurl.
Now, Mew. You already have an addict as a friend. Why would you even consider using transactional sex to encourage your would-be boyfriend to quit? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.
Top is rich. He does not care about the little hit he just threw away. It's a small price to pay for victory.
No penetration? Oh lord I'm about to get trampled by the disk horse.
"I only have you." Top is now winning.
Damn, I can't even really believe that Top actually cares about Mew's feelings.
Oh, Sand. You know, and yet he's just too charming. I get it.
Looks like we're setting up for the spiral next week.
TOP IS BACK TO LIVING UP TO HIS NAME! Incredible week for him. He decimated every single character he encountered.
Mew, you lost, baby; he played you.
Nick and Boston, both of your half-formed plans looked tired this week and you both need to retool.
Sand and Ray, you are the only two straightforward characters and I am so looking forward to the havoc you will wreak when you are finally pushed over the edge.
Sand, you in particular will be my champion; you keep telling everyone exactly who you are and they keep fucking with you. Let me know when you need your bat, king.
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the-everqueen · 2 years
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[more colleague drama in the tags]
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punkassbookjockey26 · 3 months
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Sleight of Hand, Part 4: The Kiss
I wrote this thing in like an hour, so it's probably pretty rough. Enjoy reading! I'm glad I am able to write again.
Rating: T, Warnings: Language
-------
Another week passed, and Aelin was ready to tear her hair out.
Rowan had been at her apartment almost every night since their accidental cuddle sesh the previous Thursday. He didn’t seem to realize what had happened, or if he did, he was taking the “it never happened” route. Which was fine by her. After all, he was the one who wanted to be friends, and friends didn’t have sleepovers that involved cuddling.
But for the past week, it became clear that whatever “just friends” meant to the both of them were two wildly different definitions, and it was slowly driving her mad. He texted her first thing in the morning to tell her he hoped she had a good day at work and punctuated that same workday with jokes, comments, or other silly things that inevitably led them down a rabbit hole of discussion. In the evenings, they watched movies, dissected TV shows, talked about their favorite books, and he even managed to teach her a card game that was somehow more ruthless than ERS.
Aelin couldn’t remember the last time she had so much fun with someone who wasn’t Lysandra and didn’t think she ever had this much fun with a member of the opposite sex. Too often, they were trying to get into her pants to really want to talk about her interests. Still, she and Rowan had settled into a casual intimacy more befitting of a long-term friendship than the brief companionship they had found in each other.
It pissed her off to no end.
They shared so many of the same interests. They could talk for hours, waxing poetic about the intricacies of their favorite books and the utter shit that some critically acclaimed movies were – their only constraint was time, and even then, he would pick conversations back up almost immediately when they were both awake and ready.  
In addition to the ease of their conversations, there had been the touching. So much touching. The soft grazes on her legs when they sat in bed to watch a movie; the hugs he mentioned that he hated but seemed to dole out to her at a whim; the casual grasping of her hands, her legs, her feet, her whatever body part he could get a hand on. Nothing salacious, but every time he brushed against her skin, Aelin couldn’t help the want that bloomed imperiously in her body.
The past week had been excruciating. Aelin felt on edge, torn between running away from him, knowing that devastation lay waiting in the wings, or confronting him about the confusing nature of their relationship, only to get rejected again. Aelin had been all ready to shut down her crush on him. She could respect the boundary he set – nothing said he was required to pursue a relationship with her, even if the feelings were mutual. She had worked hard to ensure she had her heart eyes under control when he was around. But Rowan had the complete and utter audacity to be charming, funny, gorgeous, and totally into her, even if he wasn’t interested in furthering their relationship.
She never stood a chance.
And really, if she spent longer than five seconds thinking about it, the whole situation scared her shitless. Here she was again, careening headfirst into a level of infatuation that was frankly insane. She shouldn’t have been surprised – it was her MO when it came to guys and dating, but she figured after the shit with Chaol that she would have been more discerning. Apparently, all it takes is for a guy to treat her with the slightest modicum of respect, and she was a goner.
That thought plagued her every time she opened his text thread, or he stopped by her apartment. What she had already felt for Rowan had eclipsed her supposed feelings for Chaol, and she had stayed with him for almost two years. All she could see was the end of the summer and the soul-wrenching pain of heartbreak. But she couldn’t stop herself. She found herself obsessing over the slight touches, the warmth of his body radiating into her as they sat next to each other on her bed, the infectious way he made her laugh, and the smiles he seemed to save just for her. It had only been two weeks since he slammed that wall down between them, but to Aelin, it had felt like a lifetime had stretched between them during those two weeks. He made her feel so much that it was already hard enough to walk away at the end of the summer. But right now? Even with self-preservation on the line, she couldn’t make herself do it.
Which was why she found herself standing at the door to his apartment that Friday evening. He had texted her earlier to let her know that his roommates were heading out of town for the weekend, and he had the whole place to himself if she wanted to stop by for a movie marathon. Aelin surmised that he probably didn’t intend the suggestive tone she read from his message, but heat had spread quickly throughout her body at the thought of being truly alone with him. She had her own room that allowed for some privacy, of course, but she was never without company in her apartment, not with the scores of friends who had unfettered access to her home.
Her skin prickled in anticipation as she knocked on the door. She shivered when the breeze brushed over her, definitely due to nerves; Rifthold was experiencing one of the hottest summers on record, so whatever wind was just as warm and sticky as the night that surrounded her. She heard the shuffling of footsteps from inside, a lock that thunked into place, and the whine of older hinges as the door opened in front of her.
Rowan smiled at her brightly, that smile that seemed to be only for her. Aelin hadn’t seen him interact with many people to know if there was a difference between what he gave to them versus what he saved for her, but she had the impression that smiles for him were rare. She savored those smiles. They were precious and, in her mind, meant only for her.
“Hey, Ae,” Rowan said warmly. She swore her heart fluttered at that single-syllable utterance. Two weeks, and he already had a nickname for her. Took Chaol several months into their relationship before he called her anything other than Aelin. Just another obvious tell that Chaol had not been right for her. Rowan’s presence in her life put all of Chaol’s shortfalls on blast, and she may as well have been keeping a running tally every time a new one popped up.
“Hey, yourself.” Aelin found herself returning his smile with a grin of her own and didn’t wait before entering his apartment. It wasn’t as spartan as she had expected – she had seen the interiors of some apartments with nothing but a chair and a TV – but the furniture was sparse, making the transient nature of its tenants obvious. A single couch lay against the wall opposite a TV on what appeared to be a rickety stand. A foldout tray stood beside it, holding up the latest gaming system. It was functional, but it was also evident that Rowan had never intended to put down any roots.
Swallowing the lump that rose unbidden in her throat, she turned back to Rowan. “You mentioned a movie marathon. What are we watching tonight?”
Rowan brushed a hand behind his head, that same nervous tick she had noticed from the beginning. “How do you feel about westerns?”
Aelin tried to avoid making a face, but it was almost instantaneous. Westerns were decidedly not her favorite thing, but they were obviously something that Rowan enjoyed. She knew she had misstepped the second his grin melted away into embarrassment, and he immediately started backpedaling.
“We don’t have to watch them,” he said sheepishly. “We can watch something else instead.”
“No, Rowan,” Aelin stepped towards him, laying her hand on his arm. The heat of his skin scorched her palm, and she felt him take a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry for making a face just now; I wasn’t trying to make any decisions or make you feel bad. What movies did you have in mind?”
Rowan’s demeanor brightened a bit at the concession. “You’ve heard of The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly, right?”
Aelin rolled her eyes. “Well, of course. I think everyone has.”
“Did you know it’s actually the third movie in a trilogy?”
She was surprised, even though there really was no reason for her to be. She didn’t watch Westerns, so why would she know it was part of a trilogy? She only knew of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly by name.
At her silence, Rowan continued to talk. “It is arguably the best movie in the trilogy, and obviously the most well-known, but The Man with No Name has many stories to tell.”
Aelin started. “I’m sorry, the who?”
Rowan chuckled at her. “Let’s start at the beginning.”
---
Three hours later, Aelin felt herself dozing. They had gotten through A Fistful of Dollars with little fanfare and immediately started For a Few Dollars More. But the second movie was almost twice as long as the first, and while she hadn’t hated the experience so far, it was a bit of a stretch for her to say that she was actively enjoying the movies.
Rowan, on the other hand, sat rapt next to her, his eyes never moving away from the screen. He mainly had been quiet throughout the first movie, only focusing on her when she had a question regarding the plot. Aelin could tell that this was one of his favorites, so she made sure never to give the impression that she disliked it, but after pausing the movie and declaring a need for a break, she found herself curious about something.
“So why Westerns?” Aelin asked. He was wearing a faded Nirvana t-shirt and another pair of ratty jeans. She was pretty sure the shoes next to the door were a beat-up pair of Chuck Taylors. Everything about him screamed alternative, so the Western thing was a bit surprising.
Rowan had paused for a moment, thinking. “My uncle loves them.”
Rowan took a deep breath, almost as if to calm himself down. Aelin prompted him to continue.
“My parents passed away when I was eight years old,” Rowan said quietly. “My dad had a heart attack when he was still young, and my mother followed soon after, consumed with grief.”
Aelin felt the tears welling up. “Oh, Rowan, I’m so sorry.”
Rowan waved his hand noncommittally, but it was evident that he still felt their deaths strongly, even years later.
“Afterward, I went to live with my uncle and my cousins. I have so many of them; having another child in the midst didn’t seem out of place. He watched Westerns whenever he had a chance. When I missed my parents or didn’t want to be around my cousins, I sought him out, and we would watch them together. He is a huge fan of the John Wayne ones, but his favorite is Once Upon a Time in the West. The director, Sergio Leone, also made the movies we’re watching, effectively creating the whole ‘spaghetti western’ sub-genre.”
Aelin wrinkled her nose. “What’s a spaghetti western?”
Rowan laughed. “Literally speaking, they're Western movies made by Italian directors,” he started. “But also as an antithesis to the traditional US Western. Most US Westerns depict a conflict between an incorruptible hero and a diabolical villain. Spaghetti Westerns turn that tradition on its head and are categorized by their rougher, bloodier, and more violent nature. You see that Clint Eastwood’s character isn’t a good guy, right? But he is still very much the protagonist of these movies.”
Aelin thought about the movie for a moment. She supposed that even if the film wasn’t her thing, she could appreciate the storytelling aspect of having a flawed anti-hero as the protagonist.
Aelin turned and smiled back at Rowan. “If Once Upon a Time in the West is your Uncle’s favorite, what is yours?”
Without a beat, Rowan responded. “Also Once Upon a Time in the West.”
“Well, why aren’t we watching that one instead?”
“Because,” he stated. “It’s an almost three-hour movie, and if you’re already fading this much with just A Fistful of Dollars under your belt, you’d never last.”
“I am not fading,” Aelin said indiginantly.
“Sure, you definitely weren’t dozing the twenty minutes before you called for a break.” Rowan’s eyes twinkled in the dim light, his joy illuminated by the TV screen. They commenced in a staring contest, neither one backing down from their asserted position. Time seemed to still in that moment, and Aelin felt like she was drowning in the warmth radiating from his emerald green eyes.
Moments passed before Rowan spoke again, this time softly, and Aelin might have missed it if she hadn’t already been so free with the attention she gave.
“Thank you.”
The soft comment broke her from her daze. “What are you thanking me for?”
“For watching them with me. I know it’s not your thing; your face spoke volumes earlier. But I still appreciate your willingness to watch them with me just because they’re my favorite.”
Aelin felt emotion swell inside, her face splitting into a wide grin. “Of course, Rowan. I want to learn about what makes you who you are.”
“Well, in that case…what is your favorite movie?”
Aelin chuckled. “We’re not answering questions about me right now.”
Whatever shadows had lingered in his eyes from his earlier conversation had cleared, and only a mischievous gleam remained. “But part of what makes me who I am is an insatiable need to know more about you. I actually can’t believe we’ve spent most of the last week watching movies, and this topic never came up once.”
Aelin smiled softly at his antics but quickly sobered as she noticed he was still expecting an answer to his question. “You’re going to laugh.”
“I absolutely will not,” Rowan said, crossing his finger over the left side of his chest. “Cross my heart.”
She sighed deeply before resigning herself to whatever happens.“It’s Beauty and the Beast.”
A deep laugh burst out of Rowan’s chest, and Aelin scowled at him. Chaol had done the same thing, and she supposed it left a sting behind.
“I swear, I’m not laughing at you. Okay, maybe I am, but only because you thought I would laugh at you for liking the first animated film to be nominated for a Best Picture Oscar.”
“Okay, maybe it’s not that embarrassing, but plenty of people have made me feel bad for enjoying a “kid’s movie” so much.” Chaol for sure had, preferring the over-the-top artsy crap that was always in the running for awards.
Rowan immediately stopped laughing and looked at her somberly. “Well, those people are dicks and wouldn’t know good cinema if it bit them in the ass.”
---
Rowan had pressed play on the movie not too shortly after their conversation, but Aelin couldn’t recall much of what had happened. She had tried to stay awake, but the stress of the week and the film that was most definitely not working for her led to her falling asleep. When she woke, the soft grayish light was peeking through the blinds in the living room, letting her know that it was still very early in the morning.
She and Rowan had fallen asleep on the couch together, it appeared. And much like the week before, Rowan had wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her into his body. She marveled at how well they fit together, that even though she was definitely on the tall side, he was still that much taller and broader than she was. She fit perfectly under his chin.
But unlike last week, she had difficulty extricating herself from his arms. She was comfortable, surrounded everywhere by his warmth and that pine/snow scent radiating off him in waves. It made her think of home, of Oakwald forest where she would play with other members of her family who had been lost to time, illness, and more. The forest was so close to the Staghorn mountains that when the wind would come in from the mountaintops, it mixed delightfully with the lush pine scent of the trees.
She would only allow herself a few moments of snuggling, but then she would work on removing herself from his arms again. She got lucky last week in sparing themselves the embarrassment, but she didn’t think she would be so lucky this time.
And she wasn’t. The second she turned her head away from the window, her eyes met a set of green in the dimly lit space. Her breath hitched. Aelin wasn’t sure how Rowan would handle being caught in this compromising situation, and she didn’t really want to stick around to find out.
However, neither of them moved. They both lay entwined, breathing each other in. The couch was not deep, and if not for how close they were laying, Aelin likely would have ended up on the floor at some point in the night. Rowan’s hold on her waist seemingly tightened around her, and Aelin swore he could feel the thunderous beat of her heart against his chest.
It could have been seconds or minutes that they lay there looking at each other, seemingly unwilling to move from this protective haven of warmth and comfort. And just as Aelin decided to remove herself, Rowan reached his hand to cup her cheek.
His palm was warm against her face, his thumb swiping across her cheekbone so softly that Aelin wasn’t entirely sure it was happening. Rowan’s fingers twined with the hair coming loose from the ponytail she wore last night as his gaze turned into something molten that caused a fire to spark to life inside her.
Before she could ask him what he was doing, Rowan leaned forward and placed a soft kiss against her mouth.
It wasn’t anything more than a chaste peck, and it was over before she even fully registered that it happened, but Aelin jumped in his arms at the touch, and without his arm around her, she started falling off the couch.
Rowan immediately shifted, trying to keep her from sliding off the edge, only to end up on the floor in the ensuing scuffle. Rowan’s hand cradled the back of her head as if he were trying to prevent a head injury in the half foot or so she fell to the floor. The other was wrapped tightly around her waist, and with the added bonus of gravity, Aelin could feel all of Rowan’s weight deliciously on top of her.
They both stared wide-eyed at each other – Rowan’s were mixed with a level of surprise and concern, whereas she was confident that hers were just surprised by the unfolding of events that occurred. A moment passed. Another. A third one before Rowan finally put them out of their misery.
His lips pressed against hers once again.
This one was not the chaste kiss from mere moments ago. This one had a hunger to it that left Aelin breathless. She registered his soft, firm, demanding mouth against hers and moved hers in whatever way he directed. She felt the soft slide of his tongue against her lips, and she gladly allowed him entrance to her mouth. Their tongues sensually moved against each other, and his hands tightened around her waist. He had pulled her fully against him, not that there was anywhere else to go between his hard body and the floor. Not that Aelin even wanted to move.
The rational part of her said that they needed to stop and talk about what was actively transpiring at that moment. But the other part of her brain was content to keep this boy in her arms for as long as possible.
Rowan had moved from her mouth down the column of her neck, placing little nips in the sensitive skin before trailing back up and doing it all over again. Aelin carded her fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, the same spot he went to when he was nervous. He sure didn’t seem nervous now. In fact, Rowan seemed completely capable of kissing away the breath in her lungs.
But as he nibbled down her neck, she couldn’t help asking. “Rowan, what are you doing?”
“Kissing you” was the only smart-alec response he got from the man currently ravishing her.
“But…what about…,” Aelin drew in a sharp breath as Rowan found a particularly erogenous zone right at the base of her neck, where it met her collar bone. Aelin attempted to stifle the moan that slid up through her throat, but she was not entirely successful. She heard Rowan groan in response as he continued to place sucking kisses against her sensitive skin.
Aelin tried again to get his attention. “Rowan…I’m-…we’re not supposed to be doing this.”
Only then did Rowan stop. He pulled back from her throat, his arms braced against her head as he stared down at her. She watched as he licked his lips as if savoring the taste of her mouth inside his, and she practically melted right into the floor.
Never in her wildest dreams had a man look at her the way Rowan looked at her then. Like she was fierce and passionate, a warrior, but also someone capable of taking his breath away. He sighed, reluctantly relenting just a tiny bit of space to say his piece.
“We can do whatever we like. And you’re right; we probably shouldn’t. But now that I’ve started this, I can’t seem to stop.”
It didn’t hurt her ego to hear him say that. She had practically been in a whirlwind of emotion for the past week, analyzing and reanalyzing their interactions, and it was nice to hear that he had been experiencing a similar kind of hell.
“We can be friends who kiss, right?” Aelin asked tentatively. She didn’t want to do it, but she also knew that this would only ever be a summer fling, so if she wanted him, she needed to meet him where he was and be okay with what happened after.
She didn’t have to wait long. Rowan quickly returned to what he was doing before she interrupted him. He even responded to the question she asked about friends who kiss. However, despite the shiny golden light unfurling within her like a newborn star, his response to her question left an ominous sense of dread in its wake.
“We can be friends who kiss, but I still have to leave at the end of the summer."
---------------
Tagging those who might still be interested in this ancient fossil of a fic:
@highqueenofelfhame @shyvioletcat @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @morganofthewildfire @mariamuses @1islessthan3books @superspiritfestival @jesstargaryenqueen @chieflemming @swankii-art-teacher @rowaelinismyotp @booknerdproblems
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aqua-dan · 3 months
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What advice would Mera and Arthur give teenage Garth if Roy was bullying him
Sorry that it has taken me so long to answer this, but to be honest, I've had a hard time formulating a response to it. I feel like there's so many different nuances that I have to explain and I don't even know where to start...
Okay, I suppose I'll try to answer the base ask first: They probably wouldn't have much advice for him. It would probably be something along the lines of "ignore him" or "try not to worry about it." Unfortunately, I doubt that either Mera or Arthur would have much good advice for him in a situation like that.
Beyond that, it really makes me want to ramble about Roy and Garth's early relationship because it is so messy and complicated. To be honest, Garth really wasn't around Roy all that much during his teenage years. They converged on a few missions through the Teen Titans, sure, but after Roy joined the team permanently, there wasn't all that many times that Garth got to interact with him. (Retcons have changed this a little bit, but.... I prefer this version...) In those few interactions they had, most of them were negative. Roy had a lot going on in his life and that caused him to lash out at people. This wasn't fair to them, mind you, but he did it to just about everyone.
Eventually, Roy started to grow a lot as a person and stopped being so much like that. The other Titans got to see his growth and they all grew pretty close. But since Garth was absent most of the time, he didn't get to bond with Roy the same way the other Titans did.
Because the very limited interactions they had were mostly negative, Garth held onto the idea that Roy was a total jackass and specifically didn't like him.
On Roy's side, that's not at all true. Yeah, Roy was definitely a douchebag when he was younger, but he does not hate Garth. The things he said to Garth that came off negatively weren't specifically about Garth. He would have said it to anyone in those situations.
When they started to interact as adults, they held two VERY different views of how their relationship was. Garth thought Roy not-so-secretly hated him (and also thought he was racist towards Atlanteans), and Roy probably felt fairly neutral towards Garth but also had a little bit of nostalgia about him by proxy when talking about the old Teen Titans. I think that he WANTED to be closer with Garth, so he defaulted to the old jokes and jibes that seem to have worked for the other members regarding Garth.
Garth... wasn't fantastic at standing up for himself when he was younger, so he didn't make it very clear how much those comments upset him. He would tell Roy to stop, but never really enforced it much, thus allowing Roy to think it was all part of the little "game" between them. He thought he was coming off as affectionate in his teasing, and Garth never set the boundaries in an adult fashion to make it clear how much he didn't like it. (That isn't to say that Roy shouldn't have stopped when asked-- he just didn't understand HOW serious it was.)
That was until Gargoyle manipulating their emotions sort of forced them to confront this whole thing. I very much wish that comics meta hadn't made it so the confrontation became slightly moot after that point. Regardless, Roy's reaction to Garth actually telling him what he thought about him/his actions is VERY telling about Roy as a character and how he viewed all of their interactions.
They still clashed after this, but also had some very interesting conversations where they were able to meet in the middle.
If I were in charge of writing for them, I would LOVE to go and explore their relationship more and build off of that conflict. I would love to set up a situation where they are forced to confront this stuff again.
I'm off topic now tho.... But my point here being that Roy really didn't bully Garth in the classic sense. He absolutely DID put Garth down and make him feel awful, but the vast majority of it came from misunderstandings, miscommunication, and simply not being around each other much. So many of their issues could be resolved if they just TALKED.
So idk if the opportunity for Garth to ask Arthur or Mera advice on this would even arise, necessarily? Garth didn't really talk to them about this kind of stuff, and also the situation was far more complex than your typical childhood bullying.
I hope this provides at least a somewhat satisfactory answer! And sorry that I don't have more specific things to say on the Arthur/Mera front!
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stoned-eren · 1 year
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shy!armin headcanons
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a/n: ok so this was supposed to be shy!armin but i guess i just made him awkward??? so hope you like shy awkward armin fluff t/w: maybe slight suggestive at one point?
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meeting armin was, interesting, to say the least. you met him at a mutual friend's house party. he seemed out of place, a nice young man surrounded by a bunch of sweaty, boozed up people. he simply stood to the side, awkwardly speaking now and again while your mutual friend, eren, shotgunned a 16 oz tallboy. the night for you two ended once eren got too drunk and needed to be taken care of by armin.
you would definitely say he was polite, kind, and thoughtful. it just seemed as though he had little to say.
armin was admittingly, very shy. and when he saw you it just made it ten times worse. he was stammering and tripping over his sentences, running out of things to talk about. the mere sight of you made him beyond flustered. his mind was like a broken record, repeating the thought "oh my god they're so cute and they're talking to me what do i do what do i say oh my god"
he hoped he would see you again, just to make up for last time. he made sure that next time he saw you, he had things to talk about, even if they led no where. he even looked up some conversation starters online.
ever since your first meetup he's been crushing hard!!! at first it was really bad, he could barely let a sentence out. but as time goes on armin realizes you mesh with his temperament, and is more willing to talk to you about practically anything.
fidgets with his fingers. usually is standing like the "had to do it to em" guy. he just doesn't know what to do with his hands
mumbles!! trails off of his sentences bc he isn't sure if what he's saying is interesting
if he has something to say in a group setting, he usually waits until people are done talking to speak. most of the time this causes him to wait a little too long, and the group has already moved on with their conversation. because of this, he can be especially quiet with large amounts of people.
you think he's quiet with friends? just wait until you see him interacting with a stranger. that boy can't hold a conversation. usually says a grand total of three sentences to somebody before he can't come up with anything else to say. he'll quickly shuffle away before there's an awkward silence.
he also has a hard time making prolonged eye contact. (especially with you!!) doesn't know how long and when to make eye contact, so he usually is looking away from people when he speaks.
the more you're around armin the more he comes out of his shell, especially when it's just the two of you. he's even confided in you that he wishes he had more confidence so he could do the things he wants. (*hint hint* you)
touch starved!! usually pulls away instantly the second he feels someone's skin touching his. however, if you accidentally touch him, he reciprocates the affection instantly. if you brush your hand against his, he'll brush his hand back with a playful smile on his face. if you lean into him, he'll place his hands on your shoulders and pull you in closer.
wants to buy you gifts but isn't sure if that would be overstepping his boundaries. he has bought a few things here and there to give to you when if you two start dating. he keeps them wrapped up nice and neat in his closet, hidden from anyone just in case they were to ask.
armin talks to you the most out of everyone. despite this he's still rather quiet, choosing to spend his free time with you by writing or doing work. occasionally he'll ask you for tips. he loves the creative energy you two bounce off of each other.
definitely has looked up "how to get a person to like you" and "how to know if someone likes you" on google after meeting you
has written out a script for what to say when he confesses feelings for you. he's revised it three or four times at this point. (though, in reality, he's probably just going to accidentally admit he likes you)
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bullet-prooflove · 5 months
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LittleMouse!Series Part Six: The Hours In Between - Alden Parker x Reader
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Tagging: @mandy426  @neapolitantoebeans @yezzyyae
LittleMouse!Series
Don't... - Alden hates what your doing.
Waiting - You leave your ex waiting.
In Sickness & In Health - Alden and your ex sit down to discuss you.
Bordeaux - You come home to an unexpected surprise.
Acts of Violence - Alden walks into a nightmare.
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The next few hours flash by in a haze of chaos, noise and florescent lights. There’s too much commotion around you, too much activity. You can’t make sense of what’s happening because all you can focus on is the pain that emanates from the place where Kristof had stabbed you with the stem of a broken wineglass. You slip in and out of consciousness during this time, snatching at pieces of reality.
“You’re in the hospital.” Alden tells you during a brief moment of lucidity. “They’re prepping you for surgery.”
The darkness is already rushing back in again before you can open your mouth to respond.
You keep going back to that moment in the apartment, the one where everything changed. You can’t believe how quickly it escalated. There’s never been a threat of violence from Kristof before, not until tonight.
“You can’t just break into my apartment and make yourself at home.” You’d snapped at him when he tried to hand you the glass of Bordeaux.
“What else am I supposed to do?” He’d asked you, setting it down on the coffee table. “You won’t meet with me, take my calls, answer my texts...”
“You aren’t picking up the hint?” You return, running your hands through your hair in frustration. “I do not want to speak to you.”
“Not even after what Parker told you?” Kristof asks incredulously, his hands coming to rest on his hips. “Because he did tell you, didn’t he?”
You’d sank into the armchair then because you’d begun to see where this pathological desire for contact comes from. The thing about Kristof? He’s a powerful man, he’s used to other people doing his bidding and when they don’t, he acquires leverage, he forces them to bend to his will. This diagnosis isn’t something you can combat and that makes him feel helpless. You can see that he’s spiralling, he’s used to being in control and now that’s been snatched from him.
“I’m sorry that you’re sick.” You tell him, gesturing for him to take a seat on the couch across from you. “It must have been a shock.”
“It was.” Kristoff tells you as he sits down. He picks up the Bordeaux, his thumb chasing along the curvature of the wine glass. “In that moment it’s like the world just stopped and everything I had done up until that point it didn’t matter.  It feels like I’m staring down the barrel of a gun and I…”
He’d shaken his head then before his gaze flickered up to meet yours.
“This is the first real conversion I have had about it. You are then only one I can let see this part of me, the only one I trust to be vulnerable around. That’s why I need you…”
You see your mistake almost immediately. You’d forgotten what it was like to be around Kristof, how he manipulates the situation to suit him. He’s intentionally pulling on your heart strings, strumming them the same way he did back then. The difference is you’ve grown now, moved on, you know how to set boundaries.
“That’s not going to happen Kris.” You say firmly. “We’ve been divorced three years now and it took me a long time to recover from what you did to me. You’ve never held yourself accountable for any of it, not the games, not the women…”
“You want me to say I’m sorry?” He interrupts you, his voice filled with ire. “Fine I’m sorry, but you were sad all the fucking time. What was I supposed to do when you decided you didn’t want to put out?”
You lose your shit then because the audacity of this man astounds you.
“My friend had just died. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to go down on you to help ‘relieve’ a little stress before the Congressional Dinner.”
“That’s not…” He trails off, the muscle in his cheek twitching because the reason the two of you had gotten divorced was because you’d walked in on him fucking a Whitehouse Aide in your bed after picking up his tuxedo.  “That’s not what I came here to talk about. I need you to come back…”
“And I need you to get the fuck out.” You were on your feet at that point already heading back to grab your phone. “Fuck, I’ll call Metro myself.”
It’s the threat of a scandal that tips him over the edge. The idea of him being dragged out of his ex-wife’s apartment in handcuffs for breaking and entering. You suspect in that moment he saw his future, declining health, his reputation in tatters and he blamed you, the woman who refused to be controlled by him anymore.
It had become a fight for your life after that because you had no doubt that he wanted to kill you. You could see it in his eyes.
When you wake up, it’s with an intense agony in your left side and a dry mouth. You try to move your hand to pull off the oxygen mask on your face but Alden’s already intervening. His fingers gently curl around yours, guiding your hand back down as he raises to his feet so that you can see his face. You can’t describe how comforting you find his presence so instead you squeeze his hand lightly.
“Welcome back, sweetheart.” He says fondly, his lips brushing over your hairline. “Trust me, you’ve been missed.”
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